Southern Docks, Brockton Bay

Missy Biron, the thirteen-year-old Parahuman named Vista, warped space in front of her. She was at her limit. Since the sinking of the Coast Guard ship, none of the Wards had been allowed to work. Worse, from what she had been told, the PRT appeared to be on edge, expecting some sort of retaliation. From what she could tell, the entire country wasn't particularly happy with them right now. You couldn't turn on the television without hearing some reporter bringing up ongoing issues that the governmental agency had so far failed to stop, both large and small. And at this point, no one expected Director Brown to keep her job, as there were a lot of calls from Congress, even from her allies, for her to resign. Triumph had commented that the attack on the Coast Guard boat was, at least for many, the straw that broke the camel's back. Even his dad was getting some flak; thankfully, clearing the wrecks had brought the Mayor a lot of goodwill.

However, people didn't understand that because she couldn't work, Missy had to spend time at home with her parents. And today had turned out like so many others. Their family outing had been a disaster; her parents couldn't even get out of the door without fighting. Dinner ended up being a frozen pizza, eaten in her room alone while her mom and dad screamed at one another. It really made her want to punch something or someone.

As soon as it got dark, with her parents asleep , Missy got dressed, climbed out her bedroom window, and went looking for trouble. Frankly, she didn't care who she ran into—Kaiser, Lung, Hookwolf—it didn't matter. Part of her screamed, 'It was a stupid idea,' but she didn't care as she drove deeper into the docks.

Now a little frustrated at finding nothing, a flash of blue on top of a building caught her attention. Full of rage, Vista plunged forward, only for the anger to disappear as she landed next to a friendly-looking girl. Cute, petite, around her age, with white hair accented by blue streaks, she wore a blue shark hoodie and just smirked as Vista landed on the roof.

"Sup."

"Err, hi," the young Parahuman hesitantly replied.

"I see you found a friend, Spinner," a voice called out in the darkness.

Surprised, Vista squeaked, spun around, and stumbled backward but was caught by a pair of strong arms. She then squeaked again. The unearthly beautiful woman who held her had long white hair and piercing blue eyes. On top of her head was a black baseball cap, one of those military ones with the name...

"OH, you're Archerfish," she laughed, relieved.

"That I am," the shipgirl said, helping Vista stand back up.

Archerfish then turned towards the other girl. "The two guards have left to get dinner, so we have an hour."

"Ready when you are, ma'am."

"Wait, can I ask you what's going on?" Vista implored, confused. She had expected a fight, not to run into some weird thing the shipgirls were doing.

Spinner puffed up her chest and explained, "Oh, we're going to be hunting Nazis."

Archerfish raised a finger, "We're robbing Nazis, not hunting them."

"Robbing them of what?" Vista grinned. Now, that was something interesting.

"Well, see," Spinner began. "We have a friend who really needs to get to a meeting next week. But she won't go unless we rescue a bunch of dogs from the Nazis."

Archerfish nodded. "The E88 plans to set up dog fighting rings inside the city. Our friend works with the local shelters in the area. Apparently, in the last few weeks, they and at least two pet stores have all been robbed of their dogs."

"Dog fighting rings," Vista said in disgust.

Spinner nodded. "I know, frankly, punching Nazis would be a lot more fun, but we really don't have orders to do so."

"Yes, well, I would rather not explain to the Secretary of the Navy why I am firing naval ordnance inside an American city," Archerfish added dryly.

"Yeah, that too," Spinner laughed.

"Just curious, Vista, as you're all alone. Why are you out so late?" the submarine shipgirl questioned.

Vista immediately pointed to the shark hoodie girl as if getting caught with her hands in a cookie jar. "She's just as young as me."

"That's right," Spinner puffed up. "The date of my commission is April 11, 2000."

"That makes you younger."

"Oh," she then started to jump up and down. "Hey Vista, want to join us? I bet returning to the docks will be much faster than Newfoundland's ambulance."

"Can I?" Vista asked hopefully.

Archerfish sighed. "Alright, however, once we're done, I want your promise that you'll go straight home. You're out here without backup, which is never a good thing. Now, can you follow my orders?"

Vista looked up at the shipgirl named Archerfish. Any thoughts about getting into a fight had vanished long ago. It was stupid for her to be out so late, and part of her wondered why she did such a thing. However, she really wanted to help the two girls. It seemed the right thing to do.

And speaking to Archerfish, it felt as if she were speaking to one of the senior commanders of the PRT. "Yes, ma'am."

"All right then, let's go."

The heist itself ended up being rather anticlimactic. Taylor had scouted the docks the last few nights as Archerfish and U-511. Thankfully, E88 had made it easier by bringing all the dogs to one central location. And with the two guards getting a late dinner at the diner down the road, the group slipped into the warehouse, grabbed almost thirty dogs, and quietly disappeared. Of course, not before looting the place of any intel that they could pass to the Brockton Bay Police. Vista ended up being a big help, too. With her ability to warp space, the trip from the city to the docks was considerably shorter. Sure, Archerfish having to stuff so many excited animals inside her hull and on her deck had been a bit of a squeeze, but at least her fairies were amused.

Afterward, the young Parahuman quickly returned home as promised but not before trading cell numbers with Spinner and plans to meet on the boardwalk. Vista also said she wouldn't say anything about tonight's activities so as not to get into trouble herself but to also keep the E88 in the dark with how their dogs vanished. Archerfish, too, promised to keep an eye on things. Finally, with Vista gone, Newfoundland was then able to check on every dog, and what she found didn't make the shipgirls or Rachael happy. At least by the time the shipgirls reached the no-kill shelter in Boston, the animals would all be in fairly good health.

Thankfully, for Taylor's mom's blood pressure, it wasn't a school night, being Friday. Not that it made her any happier with her daughter's weekend starting with robbing Nazis. Even if they deserved it. Still, at least her mom understood that Taylor had been putting off meeting with the Navy in person and traveling to Boston would kill two birds with one stone.

Now well after midnight, with the dogs comfortable, the pair headed out with an eight-hour trip ahead of them. HMHS Newfoundland wasn't the best choice to make the trip though. It would take her almost twelve hours at full speed. So, Taylor switched to Yūdachi, who was only a few knots slower than Spinner's 36 knots. Not that the two shipgirls planned on sailing that fast, but now there would be enough time to drop off the dogs before meeting the Coast Guard. However, a little over two hours outside Boston, something once again told Taylor to switch to the Astoria, but it wasn't because of the threat of surface combat. No, it was the presence of another shipgirl who, although obviously exhausted, was relieved to find friendly faces as she traveled in the dark.

The ship in question was the USS Eagle, a United States Navy World War I-era patrol boat. Whose last memories were of towing targets for bomber practice back in April of 1945 when an explosion amidships ripped her in two. Over sixty years later, after being awoken by the sound of naval guns firing in anger, to say she was surprised to find herself standing on the ocean was an understatement.

When Eagle finally joined Astoria and Spinner, she had been traveling all night, leaving the coast of Maine around the same time the pair departed Brockton Bay. For the three to run into one another in the middle of the ocean was nothing but providence or magical shipgirl stuff that Taylor found happening far too often.

The three, after dropping off the dogs, were now sitting at the small mom-and-pop diner, which made the owner's morning after they already put away enough breakfast to feed ten grown men. And they didn't appear to be stopping. Unfortunately, it was not that Taylor was unhappy with the food, it was rather good, but the need for a meal was unexpected. Earlier plans had Newfoundland just grabbing takeout for her and Spinner before returning home. However, for the newly raised shipgirl, it became an absolute necessity.

Of course, Taylor understood bringing her small command into a diner would draw a lot of unwanted attention. Frankly, she half expected the PRT to suddenly show up, which would bring unneeded complications to her already busy morning. Nor was she particularly pleased with the other customers taking photos with their phones. Still, it would be better if either Newfoundland or Archerfish were in attendance, as it would at least serve as an alibi for their dog heist earlier. But Taylor's feelings hadn't changed, which told her to remain as an American Heavy Cruiser.

"How are you doing?" Astoria leaned over and asked Eagle as she watched the new shipgirl set another plate aside.

Appearing not much older than Spinner, with bright blue eyes and light brown hair pulled back into a bun, which gave it an odd, feathered look, Eagle stood slightly shorter than Yūdachi's five feet one (Spinner being 4'11). She was also dressed much like the heavy cruiser sitting next to her, wearing a short blue Navy jacket over a white blouse and skirt combination, trimmed with golden eagles. On her hip would be a Navy cutlass, but it, along with the rest of her rigging, which consisted of a respectable pair of 4" guns, a single 3" gun, and two .50 machine guns, was stowed away.

Looking up with a smile, Eagle said, "Alright, ma'am, it's just that everything is so strange, different."

"Besides the fact that you are now standing on land."

"And now I have hands, which I got to pet a dog," the shipgirl laughed, grabbing a piece of buttered toast before popping most of it into her mouth. The animals were thrilled to find another shipgirl to play with when Astoria dropped them off into the hands of the shelter employees on a small beach near West Line Park just north of the University of Boston.

"I know, the best day ever," Spinner pointed out, finishing off her third plate of eggs and bacon, plus another glass of milk.

Eagle turned to face the window and said in wonder, "And Boston's so different from when I last sailed into the harbor. Thank goodness the war's over though, although it would have been nice to see its end. I was commissioned right after the end of the first."

"I was commissioned in 2000, so it's all ancient history to me," Spinner pointed out.

Eagle nodded, then asked her flagship. "Did you know, ma'am? Weren't you sunk early in the war?"

"Yeah, back in '42 off Savo Island," Astoria replied. "But let's say my situation is a little different. Don't worry, you'll catch up quickly; Spinner will also be of great help."

"Yeah, grandma doesn't even have decent radar," the Coast Guard shipgirl chided her superior with a grin.

"Excuse me," a voice called respectfully from behind the trio.

Turning, Astoria found an older gentleman approaching the table. With sun-kissed skin, weathered by time and the sea, he held the hand of what she assumed to be his granddaughter.

"Are you three perhaps friends with Yuudachi?"

Taylor looked at her companions, then back to the old sailor. "Yes, sir."

Nodding, he smiled. "See, us old-timers, been talking. A few keep in touch with our fellow net-pullers from Brockton Bay. We also hear other, let's say, official things beyond what the news hasn't been saying. Of someone who fits your description at the second battle of Point Judith."

USS Astoria nodded. "I was there."

Now, with a full smile, making him appear much younger, the old sailor said, "Thank you."

For a moment, the shipgirls could see a shadowy figure replace the man. Old age had vanished like the wind, now young, strong, like a memory, wearing a familiar-looking uniform, manning a fifty-cal sailing on a brown river.

Astoria then stood up, reaching for and shaking his hand. "And thank you, sir, for your service."

To the surprise of everyone in the diner, the group, which included the granddaughter, replied, "Hooyah!"

As Eagle watched the pair leave the diner, she nodded to her two new friends. "You're right, Spinner, best day ever."