Rule courtesy of TheBudgieAdmiral
9788: There will be no more beach excursions for the purpose of, and I quote "appeasing the readership with a beach episode".
It was an exhaustingly hot day at the west coast of northern America, and San Diego Naval Base was a mess of sweating, exhausted and frankly suffering men and women. ACs and fans were working overtime to provide relief, to no avail. Unsurprisingly, the heat was starting to take its toll on the sanity of the shipgirls stationed in San Diego.
"I tell you, this is the wrath of the readership!" Fletcher's voice broke Providence's absent and almost zombie-like stroll through the base's corridors in search for a cool spot she could sit in and rest. She was hot, nauseated, thirsty and tired from her recent voyage across the Pacific. An Abyssal carrier force had made its presence known in recent days, and numerous cargo ships had already fallen victim to air attack. Therefore, Providence had been ordered to escort convoys across the Pacific and into Pearl Harbor, as her anti-air armament was amongst the best in the fleet. The downside of these runs was that they were utterly mortifying, more so than normal in the extreme heat that seemed to currently reside over the Pacific.
"And I tell you to shut up already!" wailed Wiliam D. Porter at Fletcher's words. "Reality is a simulation and a bunch of adolescent teenage weebs are watching our shenanigans over the internet? Bitch please."
"It's not a simulation! It's a collection of stories! Like, a book, y'know?"
Providence scowled at that. What on earth could have made young Fletcher think up such crazy theories? Maybe she should alert Vestal after all.
"Yeah, whatever. I don't believe it. And now leave me to my agony, if you will."
"But I can prove it!"
Providence's interest was… Not really peeked, it wasn't even looking up from it's work. It just decided that listening to the destroyers' argument could potentially distract her from her suffering. And so she entered the room, making sure to announce her presence beforehand by knocking slightly on the door frame.
Inside she found William D. Porter sprawled onto a couch, a fan blowing hot air into her face, and Fletcher frantically gesturing with her hands and desperately trying to get her sister's attention.
"… And all we need to do to prove me right is go to the beach."
Now Providence's attention jolted awake.
Slowly, William D. Porter sat up and looked at her sister with flat eyes. "Go to the beach." she repeated slowly.
"Yes! Did you never hear of the beach episode? Every show needs one! It shows that the protagonists also do something else besides, I dunno, saving the world or whatever."
"Um, excuse me?" Providence said shyly. "Did you just say beach?"
v
It had not been easy to convince Admiral Holloway of the idea. Especially considering it came from Fletcher. Conversely, it had not been easy to convince Fletcher to, for once, keep her conspiracy theories to herself and just roll with the plan. But ultimately, it had worked, and so the majority of shipgirls in San Diego had received permission to visit the nearby Rendondo Beach, under strict supervision from Titanic and a couple of Coast Guard cutters. Conveniently, they had also forged a deal with the city's mayor and had locked down the beach for civilian beachgoers, as to prevent any onlookers from disturbing this rare moment of R&R.
That meant that Providence could now, for the first time ever, enjoy lying in a sunbed, wearing a bikini and slurping a cocktail, while having an excellent view of all the attending male (and, if she was being honest, female as well) personnel and officers. They, too, were scarcely clothed, after all, and oh boy, did Providence appreciate that fact.
For the time, her focus was on a group of recruits that were busily playing volleyball not far from her position. Because Providence had wisely invested in a pair of gigantic sunglasses, she could easily embrace the muscular beauty of the men without them noticing her stare. How had she not thought of this sooner? And beautiful they were indeed, especially one young man, who seemed to have abs capable of grating cheese and a very appealing tone of skin, seemingly from regular sunbathing and exercising. As she thought so to herself, she made sure to just ever so slightly adjust her position so that the men could in turn appreciate the beauty of her blue bikini.
She had just ordered her second cocktail when a high-pitched scream erupted from the water. Out there, a group of Fletchers had been happily indulging in an almighty splash fight. Now however, they came running for the dry land as fast as they could, screaming something on top of their lungs. Now, seeing as Providence had just been focused on gaping at the nicer specimen of the male base personnel, one might understand that her mind took a while to comprehend exactly what the destroyers were yelling. When it did however, she froze in shock.
"SHARK!"
Providence was on her feet faster than a Terrier missile and frantically looked around. Where were the lifeguards? The shark spotters? Why had no one seen the damn thing coming? It took her a moment to realize that, since the beach had been sort of confiscated by the Navy / Coast Guard, all the lifeguards had gone home. And the Coast Guard cutters? A glance over her shoulder revealed that the two of them were sitting at the bar, quite obviously shitfaced. Fucking fantastic.
Just as she considered summoning her rigging and blasting that pesky shark to kingdom come, Titanic ran past her, seemingly in slow motion, and then launched himself into the water in what Providence would later describe as "the manliest jump she'd ever seen". He swam past the group of Destroyers (again, in the most manly fashion) and then stuck his arm deep into the water. When he brought it back up, his hand clasped the swimsuit of Harder. The submarine was holding a waterproof camera and had a nervous grin on his face, at least as far as one could tell with the snorkel in the way.
"Uh, hi?" He tried.
v
"You did what?!" Admiral Holloway, clad in boxer shorts and a Hawaiian shirt, was visibly (although also very comically) enraged. Because, apparently, the camera that Harder had used to take the pictures had instantly uploaded them to a cloud. A cloud that he shared with Aoba of all people.
"I swear I did not take any lewd pics, feel free to check!" He said, hands gesturing defensively. Then, he hesitatingly added "… Okay, maybe a few slightly lewd ones. But not of the destroyers! I'm not a fucking pervert!"
"Why are you here in the first place?" That was Titanic, water still dripping from his body, much to Providence's joy. Gosh, he was just so manly! She blushed, and under her sunglasses, she stared starry-eyed at the British liner.
"You kiddin' me? Aoba will pay in gold for these pictures!"
"No. No she won't, because Goto will make her wish she'd never been summoned!" Holloway's head was flushed red and, had he been a shipgirl, his ears would have been venting steam by now. "Tell me why she wants these pictures!"
"Gossip! Relationships! Confessions! DUH!" Harder responded as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
"Uhh, Admiral sir?" A bikini-clad Wright walked up to Holloway, holding her smartphone in hand. "Seems we're too late. Aoba published her article a few minutes ago. And it's already got a good hundred thousand views and counting as we speak."
In the absence of a desk to bang his head against, Holloway instead elected to bang it against his hand.
"The news will eat us for fucking breakfast…" he sighed.
Wright scrolled futher down on her phone, and then seemed to do a double-take. Then she looked at Providence and blushed.
"What?" Providence demanded, rapidly becoming uneasy with the current situation. Wright looked at Admiral Holloway, then at Titanic. Both were busy lecturing Harder. She slowly walked over, and, blushing redder than a chili bean, handed Providence the phone.
There was a picture of her, in her blue bikini, standing on the beach. In the foreground, Titanic was darting through the water, while Providence's eyes seemed affixed on the liner's… lower backside. And her sunglasses did jack shit to hide it.
"Heeey~"
Providence turned around to come face to face with Olympic and Canberra, her elder half-sister, both nothing but shadowy figures encased in an aura of pure anger. Oh, and their eyes were shining bright like stars in the night sky.
"You have been a bad Providence." they chorused in eerie unison.
"Eep." Providence squealed as she desperately tried not to cry.
