Location: depths of Sol Castle, Rose Kingdom capital Farbanti
Beowulf π could scarcely believe it with her own eyes.
The days, if not weeks, of painstaking meticulous research and examination, on top of everything else already on her busy hands, had finally bore fruit. Periods of futile progress, and only recently had she and Beowulf v made the most tremendous of breakthroughs. Progress. It was hard to believe that her exclamation of "Eureka!" was only mere minutes ago.
They had finally cracked the code behind their final "gift".
Looking at the feast of sights before her, it was hard for Beowulf π to imagine how the clues were in front of her all along. Of course! And once she got the first piece, the rest of the puzzle all fell together. To think that the submarine was convinced that they were barking up the wrong tree…
At the laboratory, she and her partner were as busy as bees compiling preliminary reports of their discovery. As much as it appealed to them, there would be no time for thorough tests or practical experiments. The sun was setting on this war, and all they could do was hope for the best.
But one thing was certain: Tanager was going to love this.
Location: Sol Castle
A gentle breeze blew through the windows of an open chamber, large in scale but only relatively modest compared to other grand rooms. But besides the luxurious view from atop Sol Castle's mighty spire, "modest" described the appointed chamber for the Kingdom's strategy room well, for from its restrained architecture and austere accommodations save for a grand table did the temper for national and military interests blossom.
But Dysnomia felt anything but enthusiastic for discussing war. As she glared at Tanager seated opposite to her, she already knew why.
"The throne which is Sol Castle shall function as our stronghold; so long as its walls stand, so too shall the capital. Even if Farbanti is but ash..."
Next to her, Geofon stepped forward to occupy the large table, the map on top reacting to the movements of her fingers. "As such, defenses will be centered around Sol Castle. Aegir and Rán elements will form lines around the Castle to await the enemy. They will without a doubt employ all of their strengths in this battle."
Dysnomia slowly tensed up, like a coil steadily being wound. "And I suppose my fleet will be made to draw their fire? Is this why I have been invited?"
Tanager chuckled. "Have you not learned from the wretched city that was San Salvacion? If we had suffered from unfortunate… miscommunications then, it would do us no good to repeat such a debacle. I had hoped that by inviting you here, you would see the truth."
Dysnomia kept her gaze on the battleship, her frustrations not subsiding. The way Tanager sat, slouched on the chair as though bored; the way she talked, like they were friends - everything about this wretch screamed unusual, suspicious even. Whatever the reason was, it only infuriated Dysnomia.
She looked away in spiteful disgust. "So it was only when we lost that last battle that you finally decided to learn your lesson..."
"I would consider you no different from I in that regard," her rival replied courteously. "Perhaps I could ask whether you have learned a similar lesson in entrusting untried allies… But as we both know they had willingly forsaken you."
Dysnomia glared at Tanager in steaming silence. Though she loathed to admit it, the words did much to wound her. She exhaled sharply through her nose.
"... What are you so damn cheerful about?"
Tanager looked up. "Hm?"
"Don't play coy with me, I know you heard my question."
Under Dysnomia's dagger-like gaze, Tanager merely laughed softly. "Of course. If you must know, I have been bestowed the most intriguing of news."
The battlecruiser stared at her with misgiving. "Another of those worthless ideas of yours? I'm well acquainted with how underperforming they were at granting us victories. First those oversized toys of your 'benefactors', then Stonehenge… Here's a better idea: why don't we consider terms?"
Up until this point, the battleship had never looked her in the eyes, never shared to her a sense of respect. She had treated her with the conduct of a disinterested child, giving Dysnomia the slightest of her devotion.
But this time, Tanager's eyes shifted right onto the battlecruiser. They locked onto her like missiles, with all the intent that suggested.
Instantly, the mood evaporated.
"Come again?" she demanded slowly.
Dysnomia scoffed. "You heard me. Why do you insist on keeping up with this damn war? What motive do we have left to persist? How much more humiliating defeats must we - must you - suffer before you even realize that-"
"SILENCE!" Tanager shouted shrilly, now leapt to her feet. "The hounds gather outside our capital and you talk of surrender?! Watch that slovenly tongue of yours, for you now speak heresy. To cede here is to demonstrate fear, fear of our enemies and our doubts! The Rose Kingdom is be ruled not by doubt, not by usurpers! Let my will be made clear, you witch - there is no greater instrument of the world than the drive to dominate, to do unto others as they would unto you! Once one learns the taste of taking, beneficence becomes submission!"
Not to be outdone, Dysnomia too rose from her seat. "Oh really? And who was it that botched our opportunity of victory? Who was it that lead our enemies to gaining the upper hand? Look where we are now, you insufferable Aegir scrap! Or do you not see?"
Suddenly, in rage Tanager gripped the table before lifting it with a furious bellow. The wood gave out a sickening squelch as she decapitated the table from its very foundations before tossing it over. A cascade of paper, splinters, and sparks rained on Dysnomia before the table's great shadow loomed over her. She reacted, but its breadth engulfed her, trapping her as it fell on top of the battlecruiser.
Dysnomia groaned as she struggled to lift the boulder-like weight off from crushing her. But right as she budged the obstruction, she became deafened by the table suddenly exploding into pieces right before her eyes. Although it absorbed the impact, Dysnomia felt the blast overpower her, slamming into her like a wrecking ball. She vaguely felt a liberating sensation before she felt her back crash against a hard surface - a wall with such force that it left an indentation. Dysnomia could scarcely guess what else broke as she lay limp, her whole body numb. In between painful gasps, she faintly heard the sound of footsteps.
A hand lividly snatched her up by the neck and between lapses of consciousness, Dysnomia was face-to-face with Tanager, her expression the most furious she had ever witnessed. Cannons of her rigging flanked by her side; if they had faces, they too would mirror her livid visage.
"Not only have you dared to slander me, you Rán junk… you have also chosen to speak ill of the Kingdom! For a fleet leader to utter such treacherous thoughts in the presence of a queen, this shall be my retort…"
The first volley. In such close confines, the blasts enveloped everything in fire and smoke. But Tanager took no notice, only that they tortured the ship she despised in front of her. "... This was for spitting on our nation with your defeatism!"
Another round of shots. "... This was for daring to suggest that we yield to our foes, to betray the crown in its hour of need!"
And then out of malice, Tanager fired off another volley. "And this… was for being my object of hatred! Long have I sought to rid my hands of you for your incompetency and for your indignation!"
Not once had her grip around Dysnomia's neck ever let up. Not once had Dysnomia attempt to resist, her limp form bruised, scarred, and in tatters.
In the moment of cease-fire, Tanager carried her rival - now a nemesis - toward the ragged gap in the wall where the windows once were.
"... I, Tanager of the Rose Kingdom, Aegir Fleet, deem you guilty of high sedition. How do you plead?"
Despite the savagery inflicted on her, Tanager was not surprised to see that the battlecruiser still clung to life. What excruciating breath she could take was hampered by the noose around her neck. She could resist, but there would be no escape. In a hearing such as this, there would be no trial, no mercy, no absolution - only futility awaited her.
Even if she was about to die, Dysnomia was not about to take it lying down.
Tasting blood in her mouth, Dysnomia mustered all her strength and all her vitriol to leave behind one last curse for the battleship. "... Hard to believe that a disloyal bitch like you ever took the throne."
Without hesitation and without a reply, the battlecruiser was thrown from the window. With her gone, Tanager could see the view: the great Sol Castle, the crater-strewn harbor sea that made its moat, and the city of Farbanti. From up high, she truly possessed the commanding view of her domain, grasping the city and her kingdom's history all in one picture. All the blood that had been shed, and of more bloodshed to come.
From up high, there was no need to concern herself over her rival's fate. Like trash, she had been discarded. Now she had other important matters to attend to.
But for now, Tanager let herself bask in the beautiful sight of Farbanti, wondering if the experience would have improved had there been Dysnomia screaming to her death in the background.
Location: outskirts of Farbanti
The glares of the sunset continued to pierce into Fort Grace's eyes, forcing her to shield them with a raised hand. In the growing dusk, the world took on an orange hue; this far west it was as if nature wanted to remind or warn them of the coming threat: the still-beating heart of the Rose Kingdom that was their capital.
Despite this, she was far from deterred. If anything, she felt the opposite. Scarcely had she ever thought that one day she and the Delta Coalition would ever be on the enemy's doorsteps. What seemed like months of fighting - the prelude of retreats, the desperate defense, and the slow crawl of progress - all felt like a blur of faint memories. To have made it this far was almost surreal.
This was it: the final battle to end this war.
"Sol Castle dead ahead, twelve klicks and closing," announced Andromeda. "I was right, they've concentrated their defenses around it. This may be one heck of a fight they'll put up."
"No surprise that they'd also be aware of its importance," Fort Grace remarked. Then she smirked. "All the more reason to take it!"
"And once we do, they'll have to surrender and end this war..." murmured Kestrel.
"A checkmate no matter which way they slice it," added Buzzard, a small smile crept on her face.
Vulture playfully ribbed her elder sister from the side. "Heh. You sound downright ecstatic."
"Eh. Kind of sad that this'll be my last gig if the fightin' stops," White Valley commented. "... At least I'll be walking away with a fatter bank account."
A haughty scoff was heard in response to the mercenary carrier. "Hmph. Keep your blood-stained pilferages," said Arquette. "I'll be content with returning to my proper estate once this ends."
As much as she looked forward to the final decisive battle, Tennessee also thought of the future. "I'd imagine that California will badger me about sharing my experiences here... Heh. Can't wait to see the look on her face when I tell her everything."
Ark Royal gazed off into the distance, a merry daydream written on her expression. "Heh heh… those destroyers won't get away this time!"
The outline of the city, already having come into view long ago during their approach, began to wax in size and detail to the allied armada. At the front, Fort Grace made out pillars and mounds of steel and glass, towering over them like battlements of a castle. Nothing stirred from within, but she sensed their stare, a host awaiting the guests come to the capital city of the Rose Kingdom with unwelcome flags.
The buildings and the adjacent sea shone under the setting sun, giving the Kingdom its majestic jewel. But just past the urban jungle, she could just make out the true gem nested deep within: Sol Castle, its walls and peaks still flying the royal colors in persistent defiance.
But not for long.
Fort Grace opened up her comms and already everyone tuned in to listen. "Alright, people. This is it. The outcome of the war rests on all of us, from those who call this land home to those who simply believed in freedom from oppression no matter who or where. We've all come this far so let's stay focused on what's at hand. Good luck to us all!
"... And, with how lovely a day we've had, a victory would certainly cap things off."
Acknowledgements filled the channel. It was enough of an ovation to the carrier; she felt speeches weren't her thing. But as modest as the response was, everyone's enthusiasm was felt. They too were eager to see the end of the war, to finally reign triumph after so long.
And perhaps, once the guns fall silent, they could ascertain any truths about the war that lay behind the curtain. Even after this time, Fort Grace and the others had not forgotten: the Rose Kingdom's sudden drive to war and their Siren impetus. She possessed her own theories, how far the rabbit hold could go… but she shook those distractions from her head.
They had a war to end.
"Fort Grace, engaging!"
The wailing of alarms soon gave way to piercing blare. Within the walls of Farbanti, the moment had arrived.
Herne snatched her rifle as she ran outside, stopping only by the doorway. Her hand moved at a blur as she motioned and prodded her fellow ships. "C'mon, c'mon! They're here!"
Fenris whizzed past her, her fluffy brown hair brushing by. "They're here they're here! Lemme at 'em!"
"Yarr, let there be blood-lettin' on this day of glory!" hollered Beluga. The others - Kolga, Thiassi, Taisch, and Lazuli - tumbled out after her, the urgency giving their feet wings. With them accounted for, Herne's gaze swung back inside. There was another thing she needed to take care of.
"... Orders to sortie! That means you too, you Rán hag!"
Thalassa stamped her feet in indignation. Behind her, the rest of her fleet shared her feelings. "J-just who are you calling 'hag'?! Why you-!"
The stare of a muzzle bought her to silence. "Shut up and get your rears in gear!" the sniper threatened.
"You and what army?" bemoaned Enyo. "Just because Dysnomia's gone missing doesn't mean we're doing squat!"
Thalass sniffed. "Oh to think that my poor Dysnomia could be discarded so ignobly, like litter on the street..."
The remaining Rán ships all began to protest. They were not so angered by the forced cooperation of their adversarial fleet so much as they were vexed by the unexpected development. When the Kingdom's leadership finally returned, Dysnomia's absence was made conspicuous. The suspicions and fears of the Rán Fleet only reached a new zenith when Tanager had announced their consolidation under her rule.
Herne continued to wave her rifle in their direction. "If you bozos don't get moving to the fight, then I'll make sure you get moving to the firing line instead!"
Enyo shoved her way to bring her face right up against Herne's. "Just try it, pipsqueak! There's a fleet of us and only one of you!"
Suddenly, they heard a yelp. Enyo whirled around to find herself and the rest of her fleet staring down the bores of battleship guns. "'Only one'? Hmph. Fool," Tanager mocked.
Before the Rán Fleet could react, Geofon and the Aquila Vanguard appeared from Tanager's flanks, encircling them. In the presence of the queen and her cohorts, the Rán ships faltered, animosity in their minds and weapons within reach but with nothing coming out of them. Sensing their hesitation, Tanager sneered at them.
"Now, remind me what is troubling all of you. The enemy has dared to arrive at our doors and your compatriots have sortied to meet them. Why do you linger so?"
The two lieutenants of the Rán Fleet stayed quiet. Under the gaze of the battleship and all her guns, they knew not to express their insubordination, let alone utter an answer. Even Enyo was uncharacteristically reluctant and tight-lipped. The other members likewise held their silence, glancing nervously at the guns implicitly holding them hostage.
It took only seconds for Tanager to break the eternity-long silence with a scoff. She motioned to Herne who prodded the ships with her rifle.
"Let's move it! You've wasted enough daylight here already!"
The Rán ships shuffled their way out in bitter quietness. They found their backs accompanied by the Aquilas and the continued presence of Herne's gun barrel. There was no one to lead the way, only to herd them out against their will.
The destroyer was about to step out until the peculiar sense gave her pause. Turning around, Herne saw that neither Tanager, Geofon, nor the Aquilas had moved an inch. Herne opened her mouth to ask but Tanager was quicker. "Partake in the defense in our stead, my dutiful knight. The Castle requires a garrison and the throne here demands my presence lest the enemy seizes it."
Herne glanced toward the carrier. "Even she stays? Will we get air cover?"
"What few we could offer will be but an ineffectual spit on our foe's faces. It would now be a futile endeavor and it is for that reason that I cannot guarantee solace from the skies. But do not be afraid, for I have something awaiting our enemies. Even if I am not by your side, you have my full blessings, my little Herne. Now go!"
Herne looked doubtful, but pushed the thoughts aside out of trust in her queen. Securing her grip on her weapon, she sped off without a word or a look back.
If she had, she would have noticed Tanager's expression decay to a sullen look. This did not escape the notice of Geofon who readily understood all too well what brewed in her head.
"Hmph. To think that I make such an egregious lie as that…" muttered the battleship. "The apparent lesson we faced in our last battle had done more than to move my hand; it forced it."
"Indeed," her advisor agreed. "With them besieging Farbanti, it is to be expected that they will brandish their full power to repeat their success. With inadequate air support, attempting to meet them on equal terms will only repeat our mistakes."
"Yes..." Tanager softly seethed between her teeth. "They will without a doubt attempt to drown us with the power of their aircraft carriers, like the cowards they are. And with the promise of victory laid out before them, they will come with all imprudence..."
Her frown remained, but when Tanager lifted her head, Geofon knew what was coming.
"Return to Beowulf π and Beowulf v. The time has come."
The carrier snapped an obedient salute before quickly leaving her presence. It was as if even she was looking forward to this.
Without thinking, Tanager drew her great sword and held it before her. The blade was spotless just as she had ensured it so. Caressing the edge, an apology was whispered.
"Your moment of glory will not be this day. The worthy blood you were to taste must go unquenched, for it must spill by another hand. It is for the good of the Kingdom. Your glorious work... will be atoned for in time."
Tanager wasn't sure if the words did come from her lips, but in the light the sword glowed an unearthly blue in response. An unnatural spirit, but that came with its unnatural origins. From among the stars that rained death, so too was the blade, its metal forged from the fires that rained in their coming. It was denied its time of glory, but Tanager could wait.
Death and destruction will arrive all the same.
The city had come to life, once again buzzing with activity. But where there would be traffic and commerce flowing through the streets and harbor, there was only a storm of ordnance. Sights of tracers and smoke swelled the air; sounds of cannon fire and explosions ruled the atmosphere; the dusk turned to night as aircraft filled the skies.
The fighting had only just started and the battle of Farbanti was already won.
It was undeniable. The sensation spread among the combined allied armada like electricity, energizing them as they battered the enemy. The center of the allied offensive became a maelstrom of air power as defense after another were seemingly burned away before the overwhelming force granted by all the allied force's aircraft carriers. Fighting against so many was one thing - fighting against them as a concentrated group was another.
The power was quite the luxury for them. "Phantoms launch! Weapons free!"
Fort Grace's blue birds shot towards the enemy ships. Their formation was for the first time an active amalgamation presumed to have been brought together for a united defense. But such combined power paled to what they faced as her Phantoms were joined by other planes of other shapes and colors, too many for the Rose Kingdom to equal.
She watched as ships from the Aegir and Rán Fleets scatter from the attack, breaking rank before the missiles even made impact. And in their void came the ones responsible for maintaining the onslaught.
This was different from the operation at San Salvacion. There was to be no subtlety, no deception, no subterfuge; the allied offensive was as clear as its method. They were no longer on a crusade to liberate. All of the coalition's power was honed into a single striking head and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. A force of an avalanche that could split apart the kingdom itself.
The finale of the show demanded the best of all performers and the allies were going to upstage everyone with their last grand act.
"Hmph. Look at them run," taunted Tennessee, accompanying the main assault as the only non-carrier warship. "They might as well be hurling stones at us to save their sorry city."
Amid the battle, Kestrel made out glimpses of their foes, their unusual composition noted as was their hopeless predicament. "It is their city that they're fighting for..."
"Desperate enough that they will put aside enough differences to stand together, although their coherence is still very lacking," muttered Buzzard. "If anything, it looks to me that their defense is only improvised, with no clear goal other than to throw themselves in between us and our objective. But where's their air support? Where are their Ironblood allies?"
"Wherever they are, sucks to be them," quipped her tomboy of a sister. "Just because they're having it rough doesn't mean I'm gonna go easy on them."
"Indeed," Arquette concurred. "I have no love for a nation that had brought offense to my sovereignty."
"Not complaining here either," White Valley brushed off without sympathy in her voice. "A kill's a kill after all."
However Fort Grace frowned. "Buzzard's got a point. There's something amiss. Stay sharp and stay focused. Andromeda?"
"You're making very good progress, but you got enemy contacts on your flank, snooping around the city itself."
The carrier nodded. "Understood. We'll continue with the attack… it's their turn to shine!"
Calypso remained still where she stood. Camped behind the foundation of one of the many ubiquitous high-rises of Farbanti, its concrete exterior weathered by exposure of sea salt, she waited and bided her time. Then, sensing an almost arbitrary lull, she popped out. Who or what she locked onto, she did not know for by the time she quickly fired off her missiles she vanished behind another piece of cover.
Now beside her sharing the same piece of cover, Ceto glanced at her fellow destroyer with a disapproving look. "Shoot 'n scoot… Never my style."
"You're welcome to try your own thing," Calypso answered without looking at her recent-promoted division leader in Dysnomia's absence. Now out of sight from enemy guns, she returned to her chosen tactic, repeating the cycle she had done before.
Behind their positions, a trio of missiles sailed overhead, their destination intended to some target out on harbor. Ceto followed their trails to find Kolga, Beluga, and Lazuli as their origin points, their rivals resorting to a similar tactic. The Rán cruiser couldn't tell if her displeasure came from the cowardly methodology or from the sight of ships from the fleet she disliked.
"Hey! Why don't you get your skinny butts over here? Shows us some of that Aegir spirit you brats are all about!"
"Har har, here be a right comedian!" Beluga hollered back. "And here I thought ye Rán bilgerats wanted to win some glory fer once!"
Ceto scoffed. Past the insults, she already knew what the truth was. Wherever their common enemy was, the stares of Aegir guns would always crawl on their backs. It was either take a missile to the face or from behind.
At least one option was something she could always see coming.
Calypso peered around the corner only to retract back in a flash with a scowl. "Their advance isn't slowing. We're not getting their attention enough."
Ceto grit her teeth. Elsewhere, her fleet-mates were was facing the full brunt of the entire carrier assault and all they achieved was barely a drop in the bucket. She grabbed her fellow destroyer by the shoulder. "Alright, forget this 'sneaky-breeki' crap, we need to go balls in!"
The Rán destroyer pondered for a moment. Her frown stretched slightly at the thought of such a direct course of action. "... So be it. You move to intercept while I strike their backs and- Hm?!"
Ceto whirled around to follow Calypso's shocked look. The small rumbling of thunder was the only warning she got before she raised her arms, her rigging soaking the impacts of shells suddenly raining on her position. She recoiled from the surprise, of both the attack and of the intruders that raced toward their positions.
The light cruisers of Eagle Union barreled through the city narrows, their guns ablazed. As Ceto weathered the storm of lead, Calypso tried to slink out of view behind her, only for her missile alert to blare in her ears. Already she realized where it was coming from - they were being pincered between two directions. She wasted no time urging Ceto with a hand on her shoulder before spiriting her away deeper into the urban jungle.
The two allied groups rendezvoused. Leading one, Cleveland shared a quick nod with the other, Sheffield, Edinburgh, and Tea Time. Wordlessly, they followed their enemy's trail, quickly letting themselves be enveloped by the narrow city waterway. Although not a stranger to peculiar sights, the cruisers found their environment unusual.
"I know this ain't the time an' place, but what's up with these buildings?" inquired Columbia. " Some of them aren't even straight."
"They look awfully dilapidated," Sheffield observed.
"I suspected you would notice," Tea Time sighed. "I have no doubt this part of the city would have been majestic were it not for Ulysses..."
The dawning implication shown on the faces of everyone. "Woah. So if an asteroid did this, where's the crater?"
"We actually passed by it," the Delta maid answered. "That body of water near here? That was Ryker Crater. It's hard to notice unless you have a bird's eye view."
The impromptu tour was cut short when a missile cut in. The allied ships caught glimpses of their attackers before they vanished. Their attempted attack only beckoned the allies who were too glad to take the bait. "Split up. We'll turn this maze against them!"
The cruisers all branched off, each passageway seeing pairs or trios whizz by. Remaining on course, Cleveland kept her eyes peeled for the next ambush. She speedily eyed each crevice and shadow for one yet a missile still managed to get the drop on her, coming from above. She powered through the blast, coming inches away from Beluga.
"Think fast, blondie!" A swing from her rear-mounted fishing crane, and suddenly Cleveland found herself enveloped by a net. It constricted her like a snake, unable to budge her arms and worse yet neither could her main batteries.
Beluga beamed at her ploy. She took aim with her missiles. "Wave ye farewell!"
"Oh I don't think so!" While Cleveland couldn't move her main cannons, she could move her secondaries. AA fire lit up the air, scything through the net with ease. Now free, her smirk widened. Her now-liberated guns eagerly sought their target and now the fight was on, this time on more even terms.
Though having been deprived of an easy kill, Beluga remained sprightly. Amidst the fighting and close calls, her boisterous laughter rang out. "Yarr, this do be like old times! Back when we first clashed!" It did not take two guesses to know that the destroyer, even when warring for her country's fate, was enjoying herself.
Pushing her foe back with her sporadic shooting, Cleveland confronted Beluga in what looked to be the sunken district's former city square. With nowhere left for her opponent to run, the young Eagle knight grinned. "Looks like you wound up catching the wrong fish in the end!"
The pirate destroyer gave a genuine guffaw at the joke. "Aye, that be some good ribbin'!... But ye should've left the fish jokes to me if you know what's good for you!"
Before Cleveland could even react, a figure popped in behind her, missiles already locked. She turned just in time to recognize the blue theme of the new opponent.
Even with the gambit going according to plan and with an elementary shot lined up for her, Lazuli couldn't help but deliver her one-liner with a squeak. "E-eat this!"
A flash. There was smoke. But not in a way either of them thought. The missile launched with a hiss but only grazed past its target thanks to Lazuli's aim being thrown off-center right at the last moment. Eyes were drawn to scorched marks now on her rigging.
The intervention was a surprise for Cleveland but it immediately wore off. "Knew you guys had my back."
Suddenly, the crevices, shadows, and sidepaths that would have housed concealed assassins for the Rose Kingdom only proved to be populated by fellow Knights of the Sea. Farbanti's very own terrain had been exploited on its defenders.
"Having your back is what we do best, big sis!"
"Yeah! Let's go get 'em, knights!"
"Yee-haw! Here we go gals, surround 'em!"
Beluga's face went white with shock. But right before the light cruisers could finish it right here, a wild missile sailed high over everyone, colliding with the peak of a building and sending loose debris showering all over them. Dropping all pretense of gutsiness, Beluga used the opportunity to make a break for it, snatching Lazuli as she went.
Denver yelped before coughing at the sudden cloud of dust that swamped the area. "H-hey, what gives?!"
"Fensalir..." Montpelier accused with an unamused look.
"Nuh-uh! That was Folkvangr!"
"As if! I saw you launch that missile!"
"How do you know that was the one?! I saw you launch one yourself!"
"Are you like blind?! I shot mine like literally ten seconds before yours!"
Cleveland and her sisters decided to try their best to drone out the bickering. But a new voice thankfully cut in.
"Are you guys alright? I heard an explosion!"
"We're good!" Cleveland announced, assuaging Helena's worries. "Got Beluga and Lazuli on the run."
A sigh of relief. "Reno and I ran into Kolga but we drove her off. Sheffield, Tea Time, and Edinburgh are still engaged with the remaining enemies."
Nods were shared among everyone, their enthusiasm still running hot. Cleveland turned back to her radio. "Gotcha. We're heading over ASAP!"
They shot off down a flooded street, one after another in a narrow formation. From one won battle onto another. The desolated city that still belonged to their enemies no longer hinted of threats or concerns. It no longer felt like unfamiliar territory, one to be navigated with caution.
Here, their enemies were made unwelcome in their very own domain.
Swirling winds, acrid smoke, the rumblings of thunder that beat like the heart of battle.
In Farbanti, only two extremes coursed through the city like blood in water, opposing sentiments that could be felt in all corners of the city, from the maze-like veins of streets and waterways to the glowing haze-filled sky that burned an everlasting orange brought upon by dying embers of the last sun.
Caught in the thick of the action, Herne felt one particular sensation, one she felt in her soul no matter how much she wanted to admit and how much the evidence gazed at her like the endless missiles that sought her and and everyone that still dared to don the Rose Kingdom emblem, that still dared to resist the unyielding tide that overwhelmed them like a tsunami. No desperate defense could hold it back, engulfed by a raging vortex of destruction.
What Herne felt was the dripping acceptance of defeat. And she could not be the only one.
Kolga, Beluga, and Lazuli from the flooded district had returned from their rout, only to find themselves in another hell that was the city center where the tip of the enemy's spear was aimed. Thiassi was intercepted by the too-many vigilant eyes of the carriers. Fenris nearly got herself killed in the face of a massive air assault and so was Taisch when she had to cover her retreat. The Rán Fleet was not faring any better, their numbers only inviting proportional attention from the birds that ruled the air. Missiles seemed to plague the very air they breathed in.
The foreboding sense of defeat truly was suffocating them. Try as she might to resist, Herne found herself choking in the enemy's strength.
The allied aircraft now came in steadily greater intensity, migrating ever onward, ever closer to the sniper than she liked. The frontlines had already crumbled - they were being pushed back yet again. Herne made a run for it, not caring that she was fleeing, much less care how panicked she looked. She ran as fast as she could, running from the action, but it was futile seeing the many planes outpace her up above. Their missiles came, ever hungrily seeking targets.
Below, the carriers could feel satiated by their planes' efforts. Their reach was everywhere, and they could see it all; the fruits of their hard-worked labor now made manifest after so long. For some, Fort Grace among them, the feeling could never be more sweet. Seeing it all play out was a feast to her senses, the sights shown to her indisputable proof. The city seemed smothered in missile trails and fires, a headstone for a nation whose vain defense would be its epitaph.
What Fort Grace felt was the surging emotion of victory, flowing and flooding without limit. And she was not the only one.
The flooded district and its surroundings effectively under their control, thanks to their support fleet. A sly attempt at flanking attack via the sparkling sea foiled by Buzzard and Kestrel's careful watch. Vulture, Ark Royal, and Arquette catching some Aegir destroyers in a near-fatal pincer. White Valley, Tennessee, and Fort Grace herself bringing the skies down on the heads of the Rán Fleet, the weight of fire almost crushing them.
Victory, for a war no one had expected nor had wanted. But as ugly as it was now, it was necessary.
Fort Grace reminded herself that this was about ending the war, about bringing justice. She would make sure there would be no vengeance once peace was signed.
As if they were on a similar wavelength, Kestrel brought the subject to the airwaves. "... Should we ask them to surrender?" There was tentativeness in her tone.
"We could," Fort Grace answered. "But not as long as Tanager persists. Andromeda, status on Sol Castle?"
"Zero activity, nothing coming in or out. If Tanager's around, then she must be in that castle, along with Geofon, Beowulf π, Beowulf v, Dysnomia, and the Aquila Vanguard."
Tennessee was not amused. "Tch. Must be bigger coward than she let on, surrounding herself with walls and an entourage."
"No matter. The plan remains the same," said Buzzard. "It'll only be a matter of time before we force a surrender out of them. Since we're ahead of schedule, that may be much sooner than we think."
A hearty laugh broke out. "Ha ha! Looks like our victory celebrations gonna be 'round the corner! Kestrel, Buzzard, think of something to eat 'cuz I'm buying!"
"Vulture, I don't think you should-"
"Alert! Movement detected in Sol Castle!... It's Tanager!"
Heads of all ships were raised. Weapons lowered, the mood of war had made an unexpected turn. In light of the news the advance had ceased; for the first time since the beginning of the siege, the guns had fallen silent.
Were they nearing the end?
Fort Grace willed all her Phantoms to a singular direction with one clear objective. No longer seeking the enemy to fight, she saw the city with renewed clarity. She took note of what little ground there remained of the Rose Kingdom combined fleets. So little, yet far enough that Sol Castle remained just outside their grasp. She could bear sight of the towers and spires, but they only served to tempt her.
This time, she wanted to cut straight to the chase.
The planes dove, coming close to the castle. Eyes in the sky, the carrier absorbed all of Sol Castle within her vision. The pristine stone walls, columns, halls, ornate spikes and poles, and of course the multitude of flags; she saw everything.
There! Among the thicket of stone and mortar, standing on the great arch for all the world to see - Tanager.
Fort Grace saw the queen in the flesh, finally entering the stage. Only a ruined city and her forces in disarray would be her audience, but Tanager strode out in the open. Her steps were without doubt, as if she somehow saw something different in her kingdom's last stand. There was a small smile on her lips. For what purpose the battleship had to finally show herself, Fort Grace could only guess.
As she watched, Tanager glanced up. Through her planes' eyes, Fort Grace's gaze was met. She could tell her foe was aware of her silent observation.
Then, Tanager's smirk widened.
"Alert! Unknown bogey detected!"
Fort Grace snapped her eyes away from Tanager in time to catch a fleeting blur emerge from the depths of Sol Castle, shooting up high in the sky like a rocket. Her eyes tried to follow, shocked at the speed and zeal at which the object moved. And when it slowed at the zenith of its jump did her eyes widen.
A figure in gray, armor like a knight's. Graceful in shape but bold in form, curved and smooth along the limbs and waist but sharp at the bosom and joints; all a brilliant luster of silver with traces of orange. Angled fins and edges accompanied the figure's contours, a prominent pair on the back like wings. With the height at which this person had jumped, could she fly? But even with an subtle ethereal glow radiating from the unknown armor's surface, without a halo this figure was no angel. Its design was relatable… but wholly alien.
If the sudden appearance of the bogey surprised Fort Grace, then it stunned her even more when she realized what - or who it was wearing the strange armor.
"... Geofon?!"
Geofon's armor moved to life, the slanted wings unfurled, unveiling their full length and appearance. No longer were they the elegant shapes she once saw, but terrifyingly majestic nonetheless. Before she knew it, Fort Grace's vision went to black.
"What the hell?"
"What's going on?!"
Andromeda was at a loss at what she was witnessing. She watched as the blip on the map dashed across the grid, hurtling at an unreal speed. The readings were unprecedented, the new enemy's inimitable capability made implicit. And with the reactions all spreading like shockwave, the fear was more than confirmed - it was surpassed. Already their gains were being undone.
It was all hard to believe that this really was Geofon.
The Aegir carrier burst through the city block, her newfound speed briefly giving her wings as she did. And with wings already on her back, she was now practically flying. Coming in at such high speeds, Geofon caught the sight of her foes, their faces of shock and astonishment almost frozen in the moment as they attempted to keep up with her. Heads were barely turned her way when she went to work.
The Aegir carrier shot off towards her closest victim, her change of direction instantaneous and surreal. Arquette barely had time to scowl a curse before she was sent careening off into the urban environment by the impact, disappearing within the bowels of a building front with a sickening crash. Geofon's eyes crept to her next target: the carrier Vulture, still behind on comprehending the massacre that was beginning to play out before her eyes.
She was upon her in a flash. Unlike Arquette, Vulture had just enough time to recognize the pain she was about to endure before she joined the Delta carrier in the unconscious realm, courtesy of the blunt end of Geofon's natural rigging, still retained even after her augmentation. She caught movement in the corner of her vision, already having determined her next plan of attack even as the others began scrambling for retaliation.
Ark Royal already had her rifle aimed towards the unknown enemy - unknown only in what the enemy carrier had become. A monster? If so, the Royal carrier had every intent to help slay one. She wasted no time pulling the trigger, but then Ark Royal blinked.
There was nothing before her. Where did she go? Was she-
Missiles slammed to her side and Ark Royal's world snapped to black, collapsing with her rigging a smoldering ruin and a smoking wound pointed towards Geofon. The savage attack did not escape Tennessee's attention. With gritted teeth, she and all 14 in. guns whirled towards the enemy ship.
"Bastard!" She and her guns yelled with great furor, blinding all in a great flash before the world vanished under smoke. Acrid scent flooded Tennessee's senses but it was a familiar handiwork. It all happened so quickly but Tennessee had witnessed it. She was sure of it. She had hit! With everything she had!
The smoke barely cleared when a shadow darted right by her. Tennessee recoiled back with a harsh expression, recognizing the telltale whisper of a sharp blade. The smoke cloud was sliced apart, revealing Geofon with nary a blemish on her exterior. Tennessee regained her footing but as she raised her cannons again, she found them strangely silent. Sparing a quick glance, Tennessee was left gaping at the sight of her guns, once mighty, now reduced to stumps, unweathered steel gleaming where they were cut. She looked back enraged, only to see a flash of light. Instantly, her whole body felt like fire, her nerves shocked and tortured. She tried to stand, but the pain was too much. It dragged her down like an anchor, an infection that made her limbs sluggish. Tennessee could only vaguely recall a similar near-death experience before her world faded to black.
Geofon now stood in the presence of four defeated foes, her sword in hand. But where it would be her familiar spike-like rapier, there was instead an ornate longsword, anointed by the same augmentations that befell her.
As satisfied as she was with her performance, Geofon was more satisfied by how she felt; the power that coursed through her. Although having already experienced this when the two Beowulves had made their breakthrough hours ago, the carrier had to admit that the sensation was peculiar. They only understood the "gift" recently and as unaccustomed as it was to her, Geofon felt an allure of belonging, a familiarity - as if it was meant for her. Like the right piece of a puzzle. The power, the speed, her senses… the world now seemed insignificant to Geofon. She found it all nearly intoxicating.
A sensation snapped her back into focus. Geofon turned, instantly zeroing in on the lone witness to her slaughter who had no doubt been furtive with her observation. Until now. From where she stood, Buzzard nearly lost her composure at the inhuman reaction.
"... Damn," was all she could mutter before she darted away with uncharacteristic urgency. Buzzard didn't need to look to know that Geofon was already hot on her heels, already feeling her gaze on her back. And very soon, something painful as well. Buzzard spared a brief look behind with the intent of attack but was shocked to find Geofon's shadow already upon her, sword poised to strike.
Before the blow could be delivered, a volley of missiles cut across Geofon. In a blink of an eye she reacted to the attack, her schemes for Buzzard's destruction now put on hold. From the side, Kestrel, White Valley, and Fort Grace appeared. Their missiles took the place of apprehension against their opponent.
A storm of projectiles moved to envelope Geofon but even when it embraced her, the carrier emerged unharmed. Fort Grace looked in shock. "What did she even become?!"
"That's what I'd like to know," Buzzard riposted. "Andromeda?!"
"Don't ask me, my database's got nothing on her! Her configuration is unlike anything we've ever seen!"
White Valley gawked at the armor, her jaw dropped in stunned realization. "Aw hell I'm getting real deja vu here," she cursed under her breath.
Kestrel's ears piqued at the words, her mind connecting dots and drawing conclusions. "Do you think… the Rose Kingdom had found a way…?"
"Well screw me if they did," the mercenary muttered.
Additional commentary was cut short when Geofon vanished in flash, her image now dashing among them as a grey blur. The four carriers scattered like leaves to a wind; their foe now the great gale that judged the flow of war.
"Keep your distance!" Buzzard barked. "Don't stay in position for even a second!"
The warning, though well-founded, did little to relieve them from the threat. The Kingdom carrier moved like a bullet, pouncing upon whomever she could lay her eyes on. She shot herself towards the bespectacled carrier, intent on finishing what she had started. But like before, missiles from her flanks thwarted her. Geofon traced their origins to Kestrel, determined to defend her sister. Another wave of incoming projectiles came from the Silver Star Idol. Geofon leapt aside, letting the guided munitions dive onto empty air, before bolting towards her new target.
Geofon moved fast, but not quite fast enough to catch Kestrel with her blade. She stabbed again in a flash, only to bury her rapier in water. Cartwheeling aside, Kestrel called upon her raven planes, descending upon Geofon in her aid. The Aegir carrier slipped out from under the shower of missiles but it was not long before the air became filled with more birds, following Kestrel's example.
Though robbed of an easy victory, Geofon found no time to applaud the allied's stiff persistence. Gripping her scabbard the rigging shuddered into action. Her own air wing shot forth, quickly taking the familiar arrowhead shape as they rapidly climbed into the sky.
And then their wings extended, mimicking those of Geofon's.
"Bandits in the air! Engage!"
Phantoms, Tomcats, Flankers, and Hornets ascended after their opposite number. Like the carrier they came from, they were unrecognizable: curved surfaces but with sharp edges, their forward-swept wings an instant characteristic. Like Geofon, their gray hulls belied their unprecedented nature. The combined flock gave chase but their quarry outpaced them. They ascended, surpassing far from the reach of the allies. Then, against the glare of the orange sun they circled back down and transformed their escape into a power dive. Their lower fuselage revealed their talons.
"Break, break!"
The planes of the coalition broke rank, their formation dissolving like solute. This was little solace as half met their end from the vicious attack, and those that survived found the new assailants thundering past them before looping back around before their eyes, their wings returning to their forward-swept configuration in presence of their stable speed.
Before, the combined allied air power had been unrivaled, their reign uncontested. This time, it was Geofon who held the crown. Her planes were the kings of the sky.
No one could believe their eyes. All the battle-earned experience and instinct they had were little comfort for the nightmare that played out before them.
From the side, with no choice but to be cowed from Geofon's might, the allied cruisers and submarines could only watch in horror. "This… this can't be happening…!"
"No no no! How is this possible?!" Cleveland shouted in disbelief.
"This is like, totally not good!"
"Like, holy mackerel I want to get out of here!"
Tea Time ran ahead, radio in hand. "Your Grace! Hang in there, we are en route to assist!"
"Negative, do not engage! I repeat, do not engage!" the Delta carrier shouted back. Sounds of battle and desperation crackled from her end of the radio. "You'll just be fodder for her. See to the wounded!"
The lesser ships stood frozen, wanting to pitch in and intervene but at the same time, they all realized how hopeless their contribution could be against a monster. Finally, a clear head relented.
A bitter sigh escaped from Cleveland. "... Who's down for the count?"
"I can't reach Tennessee, Ark Royal, Vulture, or Arquette," Helena answered with worry.
"Then what are we waiting for?" the young knight of the sea demanded. "Let's roll!"
Following after Cleveland, the second fleet followed close in her wake. They sailed with haste, but the tension was clearly written on their bodies; with a fearsome beast stalking the city as well as the skies, the mood for triumph had entirely disintegrated. They kept their heads down so as to not draw unwanted attention, but lingering doubts already sank their claws in them.
At the front, Cleveland scanned her surroundings, her head on vigilant watch. "Okay, they shouldn't be far now, let's pick up the pace before-"
*Bang!*
The entire group flinched, scrambling behind cover as Cleveland crumpled backward, a smoking mark on her forehead. Her unconscious form was swiftly dragged to safety, but the unexpected attack was only a prelude for a greater threat looming into view.
Sheffield drew back into cover with a deep frown. "It's the Aegir and Rán Fleets - all of them! They're counterattacking!"
Folkvangr and Fensalir shared an infuriated groan. "Oh great, now of all times?!"
Tea Time looked over the wounded Cleveland with worry, her expression mirrored by her friends who gathered around her. Even though she remained breathing it was little respite for the situation. The maid looked to the group, her gaze meeting others: swirling mix of fear and frustration. She put on as calm of a tone as she could. "Retreat is not an option. We have no choice but to engage."
The circumstances fell on every ship, adding weight on their shoulders. But they gathered their courage, enough to share a grim nod. The battle was still on and they would continue to fight until then. But their faith had been strained; they were no longer assured of winning this day.
Then the missiles began raining.
Tanager found her grin never more wider, never more maniacal as she watched.
She watched as the grand scheme of her adversaries grind to a screeching halt. She watched as her lieutenant slay their once-presumptuous bravado, spilling chaos and disarray among the enemy ranks. She watched as her subordinates swarmed the enemy lines, liberating the city even with visages of terrified awe at the display. She watched it all - and she savored every second of the moment.
The tides had turned; the power shifted in her favor. And yet, it did not specifically rest on her hands. When her brightest minds unraveled the truth behind their enigma, Tanager had been aggravated by it. It vexed her to think that she was not to be destined for such terrible gifts, to be the hand that dealt calamity to those she despised. She had sought slaughter.
But to witness one as a captive audience was suitable enough for her. Geofon was the butcher and her handiwork was a banquet for Tanager's eyes.
And it wasn't just her's alone. Standing beside her, Beowulf π and Beowulf v were equally rapt at the scene.
"Unbelievable… Just unbelievable…!"
"Nu, this is far more than we had anticipated!" Beowulf v exclaimed as she scanned her tablet, her eyes swimming through the initial data they had collected compared to the those being observed from Geofon, their subject. "The speed, the strength… we were optimistic with our calculations but even they pale before the results playing out right now, nu! The armor is functioning at 100% capacity and she's like… 200%!"
"And those new aircraft!" Beowulf π marveled. "The way they move unlike anything we've ever seen before, their wings moving to rapidly adapt to every speed, internal weapons bay, features all shared by the armor itself... It's no wonder that it was intended for our only carrier. The equipment must not only empower its user but also augment their air power! All this time, that wisdom cube was not a vessel for creating new life, but rather a radical evolution for an existing one! Yes, there's no doubt about it… this is the true power of what we were left with, our last gift...
"This… is what the X-02A Wyvern is capable of!"
An amber sky, almost on fire. Air choked in black smog. Fumes of exhaust. The sound of her own pounding heart rivaled by that of the nonstop alert that blared in her ears.
If there was any place in the world she could pick, Fort Grace would deem Farbanti the closest thing there was to hell on earth. The city burned, but it was not from the surroundings that made her swelter.
A great explosion rang out in the midcity, enveloping a city block in a fireball. Witnessing the spectacle, Fort Grace quickly sped off in silent grimace. As unsettling as the sight was, that was not the reason why she chose to make herself scarce.
She zoomed down an urban corridor, the watery road and ruined landscape indicating that she was now in Farbanti's flooded district. Were circumstances different, she would have imagined whether the same route she was in was the same one friendly forces had barreled down almost moments ago. The time when they had swept resistance aside on exhilarating wings, with dreams of peace resting on their shoulders.
But she had no time for such dreams. Not when her senses were plagued by the chronic screams of her alert system.
Fort Grace swerved to the first sidepath she could find, shots whizzing by behind her like an assassin's bullet. She maintained her speed - already at the max - as she ran, ducking and weaving down other sidepaths and around sunken structures. Soon the alerts stopped, and her ears had finally been greeted with silence; it was almost disquieting. In the brief moment of calm, Fort Grace brought up her comms.
"Fort Grace to all ships. Status."
"Still holding..." Kestrel murmured.
"Same here," Buzzard reported, her calm demeanor strained. "Damaged, but nothing severe."
"I'll be lucky if I get out of this with all my parts," White Valley interjected. "I really hope the paycheck's worth it!"
"We've got other problems… " Andromeda warned. "News from our escort fleet is not looking good. They're trying to hold back two fleet's worth of ships! They're losing ground and in desperate need for support!"
"But we still have Geofon to deal with," the older Federation carrier reminded. "We can't let her keep running wild through us. Unless we have a good plan, we're never going to put her down!"
The Delta carrier narrowed her eyes at the shared sentiment. She considered what options remained. "Our chances are far from good but we won't stand a chance if we're scattered. Kestrel, support our cruisers in however way you can. Buzzard, White Valley, form up at my-"
An explosion, heard and felt but strangely not seen. The commotion drew Fort Grace's eyes ahead, her mind on full alert for the familiar blur of the enemy carrier, the telltale hiss of an incoming missile, the whisper of a sharp blade.
Then a building in front of her began to move.
A great shadow crept over Fort Grace and her wide eyes as she swerved to the side. Too fast to stop, she instead applied full throttle. She outraced the collapsing structure, swearing that she felt it brush the top of her head as she did. The earth rumbled from the building's weight and as fast as Fort Grace was, the ensuing ash and dust cloud swallowed her. Her world became a muted white before she shot out from the smoke, glad to see and breathe again.
Then a missile alert trilled in her ears.
How she had the foresight to dodge the unseen missile that screamed past her head without conscious thought, Fort Grace had no idea. A more pressing question in her mind now was how she intend to survive another encounter with Geofon, rushing past her from the side.
The Delta carrier dove into a sidepath. This did not escape Geofon's notice and she gave chase. Rounding the corner, she found herself beset by Fort Grace's Phantoms, trails of white under their wings in an attempt to give the Kingdom carrier pause. But with her armor, they were only a mere speedbump to Geofon, and as she and the planes zipped past each other she ignored them, her gaze locked onto only one goal: the leader of the Delta Coalition.
'Figures…!' thought Fort Grace as she ran. With Geofon catching up to her, there was little time to come up with something. Missiles from behind lanced out, some swatted from the sky with fortunate crossfire but still many that survived to extend Geofon's reach.
Plumes of smoke and light popped in Fort Grace's wake and as anticipated, the many projectiles spiraled aimlessly around their target. But in the confines of an urban sprawl, the errant missiles were only destined for the surrounding landscape, flooding both parties in a colossal cloud of dust and debris. The din of impacts only preceded the discordant reverb from the environment now made unstable. The haphazard attack had given birth to a chain reaction as the whole city block began to crumble.
A thick shroud swamped the flooded district. Mists of dust hung in the air, before they gently fell to earth in lazy stupor like snow. The land momentarily became ash and from it, Geofon stood. She shook off the rubble pieces, revealing her Wyvern armor the pristine gray it maintained. The cleanliness was not a priority in Geofon's eyes but it symbolized the equipment's resilience which remained a pleasant surprise.
She surveyed the scene, finding only flattened ruin. Fields of twisted wreckage and mangled skeletons of derelict buildings now laid bare filled her view. She had survived, an outcome attributed to her almost enchanted armor, but she had no doubt her foe had as well. Her gaze was held level, her eyes on the lookout for any sign of life. But the ruins were as still as a graveyard. Even her radar and HUD failed to pick up anything.
Movement. She turned but the sign of life was not from within the destroyed city. Aircraft came from the horizon, revealing the presence of Buzzard and White Valley. No doubt they noticed an entire city block vanish and deduced it to her. Geofon sprang off to meet the new threat, but not before leaving the ruins with one last glance - kill confirmations could always wait.
It was only when the sound of another battle, one far away, reach her ears did Fort Grace finally exhale and relax. Tucked deep under the cover of a collapsed building wall, she had never expected to successfully hide from her adversary, thankful that whatever enhancements Geofon got did not apply to her sensors. Nevertheless, she made sure to avoid the light, as a pest would under the scrutiny of an exterminator. And dwelling in the dark, calling Geofon an exterminator was becoming more and more apt.
"Bloody hell," sighed Fort Grace. With Geofon gone, she regained her courage to consider stepping out. But doing so would mean facing that monster of a ship again. This time, there was a chance that Fort Grace would not be so fortunate next time - the idea of using the collapsing buildings to hide in was nothing short of luck.
She made her way to an opening, tentative to reach light. But suddenly, an object rolled into view, obscuring the egress like an eclipse, draping her path in shadow. Fort Grace paused mid-step, unsure what to anticipate. But what intrigued her was when the object… stumbled before falling.
Fort Grace did not know what to expect, but stepping forward she was caught off guard by who she saw. But in the light, there was no mistake.
Resting against a wall, her appearance an absolute mess of ragged clothes, singed skin, and bloodied wounds, Dysnomia managed to shoot Fort Grace a frigid look. "... Could you… make any bigger mess?"
"Certainly," the carrier retorted. "This part of the city could certainly do some renovating. But looking at you, you're a bigger mess than this place."
A bitter laugh came from the battlecruiser. "Ha… Real funny. You can thank... that bitch queen for how I turned out."
This puzzled Fort Grace. "How you turned out? What do you mean?"
"... Betrayed. Simple as that…" Dysnomia sighed. "All because I could see the writing on the wall. Of course, Tanager couldn't… wouldn't. But I never expected her to have that… thing up her sleeve."
"So even you have no idea about whatever Geofon's become," muttered Fort Grace. "I suppose there's no golden opportunity to turn this battle around."
A hand reached out to the carrier and Fort Grace was surprised by the gesture. "... There's still a chance."
She gave Dysnomia a weird look. The meaning was understood but Fort Grace still found it difficult to swallow. "... What are you scheming?"
Dysnomia found it within herself to smirk. "I see we're about to strike our first bargain."
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
HistoricHippos:
And now the secret of Geofon's "gift" has finally been revealed! It wouldn't be an Ace Combat story without any of their fictional super aircraft factoring in. And in a crossover such as this, I wouldn't dare miss the chance. But truth be told, I originally had no real idea how to properly include AC's fictional jets for the story, let alone have them play an integral part in later events. It was only thanks to a certain guest reviewer that gave me the idea on how I could incorporate them into the story (if you're reading this, you have my thanks).
As a reminder, the Wyvern in play is the original variant as seen from AC04, AC5, and ACZ, the X-02A. It's not the Strike Wyvern so no EMLs (not yet at least so expect that to turn up in future events!).
For further context on White Valley's reaction to first seeing the Wyvern and what she meant by "deja vu", see chapter 23 "(FILLER) The Crimson One".