AN: Hello, sorry for the delay, I had horrible writer's block. Furthermore, I had a bunch of good ideas but was unsure of how to fit them into the overarching story of ACT 1. This chapter was originally planned for over 7000 words but I decided to cut it in half since the second part completely ruins the tone and pacing of this "filler chapter". Nonetheless, try to enjoy or if you have criticism, please leave it as a review.
The loud and angry steps from Van Persie and Commander Petraeus marched through the corridor of the Azur Lane command centre, directly heading for the Joint Operations Centre where the pissed-off duo sought to confront Commanders King and Overmars. Van Persie was furious and Commander Petraeus was livid. The slender and dead-eyed commander pounded heavily. Van Persie and he shared a look before nodding and crashing the door open.
Commander Petraeus immediately recoiled back upon entering the room due to the smell.
"What the fuck is that? Smells like a fucking dead goat," Van Persie commented, covering his nose. He looked forward and saw Cmdr. Overmars, sitting down in the commander's chair with a phone to his ear. "What the fuck were you thinking Overmars!" The normally cool Dutchman shouted.
"The Supreme War Council gave you actionable intel that enemy aircraft were closing in!" Petraeus charmed in.
"Are you this stupid man?" Van Persie aggressively said.
"Firstly," Overmars began with a calm tone which Van Persie found odd. "I did not receive any such actionable intel from The Council, and second, I had my own intel and it informed me that the skies were clear,"
"Bullshit," Van Persie instantly responded. Petraeus waited but doubt filled him too.
"Here, a report from Commander Graves indicating the listening posts established no contact and the skies were clear," Overmars said, producing a report. Handing it over to Petraeus, and for a quick glance, the report seemed legitimate.
"Gentlemen," a voice popped out. Cmdr. King and Mr. Berkely had entered. "Is everything settled?"
"Yes sir," Van Persie admitted with great difficulty.
"Great, Myself and Gregory have been up to planning a new offensive operation. Here are the briefs," King stated. Van Persie closely scrutinized the initial plans and discovered them to be, actually competent.
[][][]
"Unbelievable," Van Persie muttered to himself after thoroughly analysing the plan. He had retired back to the hanger, and leaned in against the landing gear, supporting his back. Yorktown was awake and was soon to be discharged from Vestal. "This is a well-thought operation. Unbelievable. Breakthrough fleets to attack in various positions, with fast cruisers as reserves and carrier-ops in the rear to provide air support and CAPs (Combat Air Patrol). Ultimate objective = control over Johnston Atoll. This really could work," Van Persie surprisingly said. The Dutchman's mind wandered as to how did Cmdr. King suddenly become competent? But, the largest concern for him was how the suspicious attack earlier today. It could be a coincidence but the timing was too perfect. That needed to be investigated. However, those thoughts were silenced by a cough, shattering the relative quiet.
"Master…" The watchful maid announced.
"Yes, Belfast!" The pilot immediately stood up, saluting the maid in a serious tone.
"I am your personal maid, there's no need to salute," Belfast replied with a smile.
"Sorry, force of habit. Old squad leader was strict," The pilot responded, materializing a slightly embarrassed and troubled look. "Is something wrong Belfast?"
"Your troubled look was so… It caught me off caught," Belfast giggled, and a slight blush grew on her face.
"What did you just say?"
"I'm here to escort you to lunch," Belfast cheekily responded, giving a curtsy.
[][][]
The weather was still bright, despite it being mid-afternoon. The gentle wind served as a reminder that an atmosphere of peace could still be held before the fighting continued. Belfast had set up a table in the royal garden, near the Royal Navy dormitory. It was a simple set-up with a single chair, table and a white large parasol. Van Persie happily ate away as Belfast stood some distance behind him.
"Is this meal to your liking?"
"Fantastic. It's so good," The pilot responded.
"This is something I made using the connections I have to the fleet," she responded with a smile.
"Honestly, thank you much Belfast," The eager pilot said and continued eating, genuinely enjoying the food while Belfast stood ready to serve and secretly delighted to spend time with Van Persie. Belfast's tenure during the Azur Lane coalition was, tumultuous, to put it nicely. The continued debacle of King's leadership, Overmars, and the general war situation were wearing heavily on the girls. Belfast still could not understand the madness of how some still supported King and sensed danger from Overmars. But Van Persie was the explosive spark of hope in an otherwise empty universe.
[][][]
Later during the evening, Van Persie was summoned by Oppenheimer. When the pilot arrived, he was greeted by an ecstatic team of scientists, with Oppenheimer even growing a smile.
"Good evening Lieutenant," the revered scientist began. "Apologies for the late hour,"
"Yeah, no problem. What happened?" The pilot responded.
"Two large breakthroughs in wisdom cube technology. The first and more important is that we are nearing a complete breakthrough with the radiation cube," Oppenheimer eagerly said with his usual gravitas. "We've confidently determined that the radiation cube is indeed suitable for Azur Lane ship-ladies. We still need to run diagnostics,"
"That's great to hear!" Van Persie energetically said. The pilot was genuinely glad as this venture could potentially win the war.
"Secondly, we have collected enough data to summon another aircraft," Oppenheimer added.
"Wait what!" Van Persie shouted. "What are we waiting for, let's go to the airfield!"
Everyone from Sunk Works hurried over with a few women following the commotion. Oppenheimer presented the wisdom cube to Van Persie and the pilot graciously gripped it, holding it out for everyone to see.
"Now, Lieutenant. Focus all of your energy onto your palms and then release and channel that feeling into the cube,"
"Right," the pilot responded. Taking a few deep breaths, Van Persie closed his eyes and meditated. Focusing his inner energy on his hands and palm, letting it escape through and into the cub. All of a sudden, a great white flash blinded the immediate surroundings and within seconds, the flash disappeared. There it stood, a new aircraft. The others were amazed.
"Wow, look at the shape and size of the thing," one commented.
"The thing is absolutely massive!"
"Well fuck my boots," Van Persie responded. "Good to see you, BUFF."
"BUFF?"
"Big Ugly Fat Fucker,"
[][][]
It had been a few days since the sudden attack and most of those days were spent refining the new offensive. Spearheaded by Cmdr. King and Petraeus with Overmars offering criticism and comments. Van Persie was also present, even though he himself admitted that he had no proper qualifications.
"Lieutenant," Cmdr. King began. "How far can your new bomber fly?"
"Don't even worry about that,"
"How easy is it to pilot? As you mentioned, that bomber is quite old. Can you train some guys that fly B-29s?," Cmdr. King asked.
"Yeah, it's the H model, but the thing came out in the 60s, No problem to re-train some guys,"
"What about air defence? How can we protect it?" Cmdr. Petraeus asked.
"Don't worry about that. The Siren jets aren't advanced enough to reach the altitude at which modern planes fly. It's untouchable. But if you really want, I can fly my F-14 as an escort," the pilot explained.
"Are you we have enough supplies Overmars?" Cmdr. Petraeus asked. "King's operation is huge, do we have a good logistics train too?"
"Yes, our stocks of supplies are to a level of handling large ops. I oversaw everything myself," Overmars confidently said. The others felt reassured as he was the best with numbers. "We can press the advantage for… three months before we need to cool things,"
"Sounds great Overmars,"
"I'm going to sortie with four fleets: Hornet Reserve Group, Mikasa Breakthrough Group, Kronshtadt Breakthrough Group and King George V Breakthrough Group,"
"Woah, don't you think that's a bit too much?" Van Persie asked. He still had the grim events of Tehran fresh in his memory.
"Frankly, I'm with King on this one," Petraeus added. "We've been too defensive. POTUS and MacArthur have been pestering us to attack. Thankfully Ike has been favouring more restraint and caution,"
"Everyone understood what needs to be done?" King asked.
[][][]
Cmdr. King and Overmars sortied three days ago. The ladies on base felt strange as so many of their comrades had left. Furthermore, Cmdr. Petraeus headed back to Washington D.C. for an extended time to brief the President as well as the Supreme Allied War Council. Van Persie flew sorties multiple times a day. There were other pilots, yes, but Van Persie was the only one skilled enough to operate modern equipment. The others were scared to.
Today was a lady's night. Enterprise, Belfast, Vittorio Veneto, Richelieu, Yorktown, and Bismarck all huddled together in the Iron Blood's premier brewery. They were all excited, minus Enterprise who'd rather be at the frontline. They all shared a pint of the finest beer Bismarck had in stock. They laughed, conversed and most importantly, gossiped. Vittorio Veneto, chief among them. Belfast appeared to be graceful, but she was just as guilty in spreading and acquiring rumours. She loved it. Bismarck was simply intrigued and happy to loosen up from her duties as leader of the Iron Blood. Richelieu and Yorktown were the two reasonable voices, but Yorktown occasionally slipped in a rumour or two. Enterprise, however, was a different story. Being the introvert that she is, she didn't know what to do. Of course, she was more than welcome to join but she focused all of her efforts on trying to enjoy the lovely pint she was given. Unsurprisingly, the two main driving forces of the scuttlebutt were, Van Persie and the mysterious and scandalous Gregory Berkely.
"Did you hear about the Bal yesterday?" Richelieu asked.
"The one organized by this Berkely ragazzo (bloke, guy, dude, &c)?" Vittorio Veneto responded.
"Several maids were present, chaperoning and providing service. They reported the Bal had turned into a 'clusterfuck' as one would say. Belfast replied with a smile.
"Really? I don't believe it," Bismarck added, adding some hint of scepticism.
"When Mr. Berkely gave the welcoming speech, the maids reported that he used such foul language that many of the ladies... found him controversial, let's say," Belfast said.
"Explain?" Enterprise said succinctly. She tried her best to add to the conversation.
"Lady Newcastle swears by the queen that after he gave his ending remarks, half of the crowd were either supportive or drawn to him and the others found him repulsive,"
"That makes no sense," Yorktown said. "How is that even possible? And what did he say?"
"He exactly said: 'I only make decisions when my stomach is full or my balls are empty. And I like to fuck like tigers,' very… picturesque," Belfast said.
"He said that!" Bismarck shouted. She couldn't believe her ears. The rest had similar reactions with Enterprise's jaw dropping on the floor.
"Jack told me after that joint meeting a while back, it was something to do with his eyes. Do you remember Hood? She couldn't stop staring at the man!" Vittorio Veneto exclaimed.
"Makes me wonder what her night-fighting capabilities are," Belfast added, coyly.
"Belfast!" Richelieu said, spitting out her drink. The rest laughed.
"Speaking about that, how's our favorite all-star?" Yorktown asked.
"Master has gotten incredibly popular, thanks to his accomplishments," Belfast said, being genuinely proud of the pilot.
"He does a lot of us. Air patrol, bombing runs… we should all be thankful for him," Enterprise stated.
"Didn't you blow him off the first time he tried to talk to you?" Vittorio Veneto stated.
"You got me there VV. At first, I thought he was going to be a free-loader, but he's proven himself," Enterprise explained.
"I'm worrying for him though," Bismarck said.
"He's been taking more and more rests since he's trained some of the other bomber pilots to operate the new aircraft. But still, once I caught him sleeping on the wing of his fighter craft!" Belfast worryingly said.
"We have to find a way to get Jack to rest more often. Any ideas?" Vittorio Veneto suggested.
"We could make an appeal citing combat fatigue," Yorktown started. "He has literally put the war effort on his back. I'll ask him about it when he's awake. Speaking of Jack and how to distract him, unofficially… Enty?"
"Yes, sister?"
"You know, you should try to talk to him. He's interested in you, he directly told me that you're pretty…" Yorktown cheekily added.
"My my… he's having eyes for someone else, what a rascal," Vittorio Veneto jokingly said.
"Damn, I need to up my game," Belfast quietly said. Whereas Enterprise dug her face into her hands. She was about to die from embarrassment.
[][][]
It was late morning. Belfast and Yorktown's efforts to suspend Van Persie's frontline duty were successful, receiving stamps of approval from both Cmdr. King and Petraeus. The other bomber pilots all took turns, creating a well-oiled system that prevented pilot burnout and combat fatigue, with regards to the B-52H.
Belfast stood outside the pilot's room, holding a package wrapped carefully in paper. She had come for her daily duties. First things first: wake the pilot up. She opened the door and saw the large Dutchman sprawled across the bed. Blissfully asleep. She took a brief stop and analyzed the man. Belfast's first thought was how much of a giant he was. At least 185cm. He towered over everyone at the base. His hair was within regulation. A short yet poignant look with his ice-cool black hair. Belfast smiled at the moment before quietly leaning over.
"Good morning Master, it's time to wake up," she said, before lightly shaking his shoulder and upper torso.
"It can't be morning," he groggily said.
"You can't simply lie in bed all day," she replied. The pilot responded by turning on his side. A lightbulb suddenly clicked in Belfast's mind as his side was exposed. She leaned in closer and blew into his ear. Van Persie immediately jotted awake.
"Wow, low blow there eh?" Van Persie muttered before he tossed the blanket aside. Belfast simply giggled.
"I'm sorry master but I have my duties,"
"Fine, I'll go hit the shower,"
"Before you go, Command has sent you a new uniform, besides the combat gear. Please try it on," Belfast said. Van Persie nodded and accepted the package and headed to the bathroom. The water rushed through the showerhead. Belfast waited patiently in his room, cleaning up and making the bed.
"Ra ra Rasputin! Lover of the Russian Queen! They put some poison into his wine! Ra ra Rasputin! Russia's greatest love machine! He drank it all and said, 'I feel fine!' Ra ra Rasputin! Lover of the Russian Queen! They didn't quit, they wanted his head! Ra ra Rasputin! Russia's greatest love machine! And so they shot him 'till he was head!" Echoed from the shower. Belfast couldn't help laugh a bit before returning back to work.
The door opened from the showers maybe eight minutes later. Some steam rushed through the opening and floated across the room. There stood Van Persie, awkwardly, in his new uniform. It was a U.S air Force uniform. The trousers and 4-buttoned blazer were a mix of navy-blue and dark blue. On each arm, sat the insignia of Azur Lane. Underneath the blazer was a light blue shirt with the same mixed navy-dark blue coloured tie. Belfast walked over and placed the officer's cap on him, completing the look.
"What do you think Belfast?"
"I think you look dashing Master. Here, I'll put these on," She said, before revealing two medals. The Air Force Bombardier Badge and the Naval Aviator Badge. "There we go,"
"Mmm, I'm starting to like this uniform," Van Persie confidently said. He then tugged on his blazer and his medals clicked together. Belfast chuckled at the comment before they departed to the cafeteria.
They arrived.
And were instantly met with a large commotion. Definitely a shouting match.
[][][]
There were two distinct groups engaged in the war of words. The so-called, "Aristocrats" against the "Republicans" (both dubbed by Van Persie accordingly). Leading the brawl was the characteristically elegant and ladylike Hood against Richelieu.
In his first few days at the base, Van Persie could sense a rift between many of the ladies on base. The Aristocrats were mainly comprised of the Royal Navy, Sakura Empire and the Sardegna Empire. With notable exceptions. Unlike the Republicans, nothing besides being a part of an empire and opposing the Republicans with their proposals. Furthermore, each faction within the clique had different visions and ideologies. Many did not like Commander King but some liked him, especially Akagi. While others, mainly Hood, were staunch supporters of Overmars. However, bizarrely, they all seemed to enjoy Berkely's company. A major controversial point for the ladies on base.
The Eagle Union, Dragon Empery, Iris Libre, Vichya Dominion, and Northern Parliament were considered a part of the Republican clique. The Republicans meanwhile were unified on a standard set of ideas. Perhaps a little too motivated to achieve their ideas, especially with regard to the Northern Parliament. They despised both Commander King and Overmars. They still took orders from either commander but with heavy disdain and distaste. Commander King was a near-constant point of criticism, with his incompetence, not helped by the sudden arrival of the mysterious and extremely scandalous Berkely. In fact, many of the Republicans were convinced that King had simply become a puppet and in fact, Berkely held the real power. At first, the Republicans were indifferent to Overmars but after a series of unpopular decisions, especially the one to hire Shadow Company private military contractors and the appointment of Cmdr. Graves as Head of Garrison and Security for Azur Lane ticked them off.
"I simply do not understand the issue with Mr. Berkely," Hood reiterated.
"The issue is that he is simply a pig!" A furious Richelieu retorted. "Having someone with his reputation on base is completely unacceptable. Not to mention the cult he managed to create in a few short days in Honolulu city!"
"You're the cardinal Richelieu, why is that such a problem?" Hood asked.
"It is a problem because it's unsanctioned. This Berkely fils de putte (Son of Bitch) is a disgrace to the reputation of Azur Lane! You cannot have a crazy, drunken, beardy, lewd, scandal-ridden, self-proclaimed magic wizard man running around the place! It's common sense! And in your tiny mind, is not common!" Richelieu shouted. A passion and rage within Hood ignited and her eyes emitted a fiery aura.
"You have to understand him, he's not from around here. He's not accustomed to our traditions. And if Shikikan King likes him, then he belongs here," Akagi said.
"AHEM!" Van Persie shouted. "As the highest-ranking officer on this base currently, I order you to cease this farce immediately and return to duties at once!" His authoritative voice hounded the room silent. Many simply obeyed.
"And what are you going to do about it?" Akagi answered back. Sensing the potential escalation into a real melee, Belfast stepped closer to Van Persie, almost hugging the man, readying her gauntlets.
"I'll sink your ass faster than what Enterprise did at Midway,"