7101a: WHO VIOLATED THESE RULES? WAS IT A BRIT? I BET IT WAS A BRIT! - USS Iowa
7101b: Worryingly for my blood pressure, the USS Constitution has left port after having a conversation with some modern British and French warships. She left a note. "Going for a walk." You may panic now.
7101c: Do not ask the USS Constitution why she now has a small fleet of Abyssal destroyers and a princess. Or why they are all wearing 1800's naval uniforms with American Flag bandanas. She has already told us the answer.
7101d: "Because they said I couldn't fight for shit! WELL GUESS WHO JUST CAPTURED A SMALL FLEET FOR THE GOOD OLD US OF A?" - USS Constitution, "Old Ironsides" and self proclaimed queen bitch of the sailshipgirls.
konnigvanmessen said:
7101e: While we appreciate the defectors, the British sailing ships are starting to take exception to that.Norfolk Naval Base
November 21, 2017
"Happy birthday, Connie!"
The old frigate started and nearly summoned her rigging at the sudden shout, but she tamped down that reaction when she realized that the shout was for joy rather than alarm. When her nerves calmed, she turned to see practically every single one of the shipgirls stationed at the base filling the corridor behind her, sans those who were currently sortied. The Iowa sisters (sans Iowa, herself) were at the front and Wisconsin, specifically, in front of everyone else holding a cake before her.
"Aw, you did not have to-"
"But we wanted to. This is a big milestone for you, girl."
A tear came to the old frigate's eye, and she brushed it away, futily trying to disguise the act as brushing a stray lock of gray hair from her temple back behind her ear. "Thank you. Thank you, everyone."
"That's better." New Jersey turned to the assembled crowd. "Let's head to the mess, where Connie can enjoy this, properly."
When they arrived at the mess hall, one of the Fletcher or Gearing destroyers (Honestly, there were so many that Constitution couldn't keep track of them all.) produced a lighter and lit the candles on the cake, three of the "number" variety that spelled out the number of years since USS Constitution's commissioning: 220.
"I… I honestly don't know what to say, girls, but thank you, again. Thank you."
Wisconsin patted her on the shoulder. "Hey. You're one of the original six. You're practically the mother of us all."
The tears of joy flowed freely, this time. "You all know how to warm a woman's heart. I feel so gay at this moment, surrounded by such love."
At that moment, two visiting foreign ships walked by. HMS Hawke, a never-completed Minotaur-class light cruiser, looked over at the group and scoffed. "220 years old? Why's a granny like you at this base? Shouldn't you be in a retirement home, somewhere?"
Before any of the American ships could admonish the British ship, her companion, MN Clemenceau, a similarly incomplete Richelieu-class battleship, spoke up. "Honestly, it's shameful keeping such a relic in service. Even your Indefatigable and our Droits de l'Homme have modernized themselves to stay relevant. But Constitution? Nothing." The Frenchwoman scoffed as she walked away.
"I know, right? She can't fight for shit, anymore," Hawke agreed as she joined the other European.
As the vast majority of the Americans broke off to mete out some much-deserved justice to the pair, USS Savannah and Wisky stayed to comfort the slighted shipgirl. "It's al-"
But that was as far as their consolation got.
"'Granny?'" The frigate twitched. "'Can't fight for shit, anymore?'" Another twitch, and then she stood up sharply enough to rip the cafeteria bench from its mounting, a dark aura swirling around her body. The cruiser and battleship took an involuntary step back as they watched Old Ironsides* manifest. Constitution took a deep breath, and the aura dissipated, at least externally. When she opened her eyes, the younger, heavier ships shuddered as they saw that aura swirling behind those eyes and the dissonantly serene smile plastered on her face. "If you will excuse me, I am going for a walk. Be back in a jiffy."
Savannah and Wisconsin stared after the frigate's retreating form as she walked out of the building. After she left, the cruiser spoke. "Should we… try to stop her?"
The battleship barked a mirthless laugh. "Not a snowball's chance in hell that we could stop her."
Savannah nodded. "I thought as much."
Approximately 100 miles off the East Coast of the United States
It was quite a rarity to see an Abyssal Princess outside of home territories, but the Destroyer Princess (Seventh of Her Line; May the others rest in peace.) often had a need to get away from the inanity some of the other Abyssals could get up to. When those urges would arise, she would pester the Volcanic Ridge Princess for permission to join the next convoy heading out of Iceland. Every time, Ridge would grudgingly acquiesce to her request, but not without issuing her a substantial bodyguard unit.
This time, said bodyguards were a Re-class aviation battleship and a Nu-class light carrier, on top of the Destroyer Princess' normal retinue of half a dozen elite, late-model, Na-class destroyers. Complete overkill against anything other than a premeditated assault by every kanmusu on the entire East Coast of the U.S., but Ridge had insisted.
She was brought out of her reverie by the Re tapping her on the shoulder. Once she had the Destroyer Princess' attention, the battleship pointed toward the human territory, from the direction of which a single shipgirl was sailing toward them.
"Just the one?"
"Yes."
"...Truly no signs of any others? Not even submarines?"
"Not a one."
The Destroyer Princess considered the situation for a moment before shrugging. "Eh, her funeral. Re, you have permission to blat her out of existence the instant she's in range."
The small aviation battleship rubbed her hands together. "With pleasure." She contracted her tail, causing the various runway segments to solidify into a solid airstrip, down which half a dozen planes slid before the tip angled upward to catapult them into the air.
Now, they only had to wait for the fireworks.
The ones the Abyssals got weren't the ones they expected.
From the shipgirl's rigging came the discharge of sixty two cannons. Their accuracy was truly unimagineable to the Abyssal Princess, as they detonated precisely where they needed to to knock all of the planes out of the air. Not one managed to drop its payload. Through it all, the shipgirl did not drop her speed.
At this point, more of her form became distinct, allowing the Destroyer Princess to determine that she was, of all things, one of the sail-ships. After a moment of abject shock, the Re-class swung her tail around and opened fire with her six primary and three secondary guns.
No one expected the result. The volley, all armor-piercing, simply… bounced off her hull. A second volley, this one high-explosive, wreathed her in flames and smoke, but she sailed out of it scorched, but otherwise completely unscathed.
Now, the Re growled, both her humanoid and tail jaws gnashing their teeth. "That's it! I'm gonna tear her apart!" The Abyssal battleship steamed off at full speed.
The shipgirl was close enough, now, for details of her form to become visible. Brown hair going grey at the temples, lines of age on her face, rigging painted a resplendent black with a white stripe along the sides and a red keel, and the early 19th-century naval officer's uniform adorned with decorations. The Princess's eyes widenend as she recognized the shipgirl, and, more importantly, the aura surrounding her. "Wait-!"
The warning came too late. With a roar, the Re-class's tail surged forward, only to be caught by the fist of Old Ironsides. An attempted punch by the Re's main body slipped under the shipgirl's armpit, where her arm pinned the limb and yanked upward, shattering the bones in the Abyssal's arm. The battleship's scream ceased for a moment as she was punched to the water's surface by Constitution, who ignored the tail's continued attempts to bite her. The Destroyer Princess gulped as she saw the old frigate's expression, a placid smile that was entirely out of place.
Before the Re could push herself upright, Old Ironsides stepped onto her back, gripped the base of her tail, and pulled. With a series of sickening wet snaps and a small geyser of ichor, the appendage was ripped free, but the shipgirl wasn't done. Uncaring for the crippled Abyssal's mixed screams and whimpers and cries, she swung the now-limp tail into the air and brought it down on its former master. With each blow, the tempo of the swings increased until the turrets at the tail's mouth were reduced to mangled scrap metal, and the Re-class's main body was broken, battered, and sinking.
Still brandishing her improvised flail, Constitution resumed her course, reaching speeds no sailing ship had any right to. The Destroyer Princess's Nu-class escort launched all of its planes, but they met the same fate as the Re's. A second volley planted dozens of explosive shells in the Nu's hangar bay, where they assisted the aviation fuel and munitions in turning the light carrier into a shredded bonfire.
Her destroyers hurled themselves forward, launching torpedoes and firing their guns with reckless abandon, but Old Ironsides treated them the same as daylight in an Icelandic winter: nonexistent. Return volleys of solid shot battered them to the brink of unconsciousness.
Desperately, the Princess threw herself into hard reverse, opening fire with everything she had, but it was not enough. In moments, the older ship was upon her and knocked her down with a single blow from the Re's tail. A boot with a wooden rudder-shaped heel planted itself on her chest, and Constitution leaned down. "You will be coming with me." She looked around. "All of you."
"That bitch!"
Droits de l'Homme winced at Indefatigable's outburst. It was never a good thing when that happened. She looked over, where the third rate was clenching what looked like an after-action report. "Who are you talking about?"
"Constitution!" She slammed down the paper. "She captured an entire Abyssal fleet! By herself! We need to step up our game and show that we're the queen bitches of the sail-ships, not her!"
Droits de l'Homme could only rest her face in her palm and shake her head.