TCGM's Plot Bunny Vault

[Zeushobbit]

TALK

I just gutted ASCALON for you. You're welcome.

Click to shrink...

eh, I think "Saint had a kill switch. Had" gets the point across better. She wouldn't know what Ascalon means since as well as it being a blind spot to her it was originally called the 'Iron Maiden' or something by Richter then Saint tinkered with it and renamed it to fit his own psychosis.

 

[TCGM]

The Dog Blob​

"Spock," Kirk called over his shoulder, "what... is it?"

"It appears to be an amorphous blob, Captain," his science officer, Vulcan friend, and second in command informed him.

"I can see that Spock, but an amorphous blob of what?"

"I am unsure. Sensors are unable to penetrate much of its structure. At the most I can see, it appears to be some kind of metal."

Kirk glanced back at Spock, to the widescreen upon which the shiny gray blob floated in the middle of space, then back to Spock. He raised his eyebrows with a look of disbelief on his face.

"Appearances can be deceiving, Captain," he patiently explained.

"Clearly," Kirk fired back, once more turning to the viewscreen. "Well, it followed us here on our tail and at our warp speed, just like a dog, so let's see if it barks."

He turned to Uhura and shot her a pair of finger guns. "Hail them, Lieutenant!"

Uhura rolled her eyes and smiled at his antics. "Yes, sir." She manipulated the controls on her console and opened a channel to the blob. "Hailing frequencies open, Captain."

Kirk nodded to her and then stood straight up, facing the widescreen with his hands on his hips.

Sulu discreetly lowered his head so the Captain couldn't see him snickering. Everyone else except Chekhov had it easy, they weren't directly within his field of view.

Said weapons officer was doing an admirable job of making it look like he wasn't laughing on the inside about their Captain's... uniqueness.

"Unknown ...Blob!" Kirk announced, barely keeping a straight face himself due to the absurdity of what he said, "this is Captain James T. Kirk of the Federation Starship Enterprise. Please share your identity and explain why you are... riding us."

Uhura broke out in a smile and abruptly schooled her features to stone, but not before Spock noticed and gave her a knowing nod and trademark Vulcan eyebrow raise.

The bridge was silent except for Sulu's badly muted snickering for several moments.

Then the blob began to move.

"Captain!" Chekhov announced, rapidly adjusting his console to keep the ship's weapons sensors in the general vicinity of the... blob. "The blob is moving!"

"I can see that Ensign, where is it going?"

"I... I am not sure! It has begun accelerating towards us, but whether it intends to ram us or miss us I cannot tell! It seems to be... shwifting its vectors so that our sensors cannot track it accuwately!"

Kirk grew serious all of a sudden. "That sounds like active countermeasures," he declared.

Spock spoke up. "Captain there is no reason to believe this being's intentions are hostile-" he began to explain, but was cut off.

"Yeah, yeah, eeexcept the active countermeasures of our tracking systems, Spock," Kirk fired back, then whirled on Chekhov. "Lieutenant, lock on and fire a warning shot."

"It is not possible, Captain, the system cannot keep track of it!" Chekhov protested.

Kirk moved towards him and put a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. "Do it manually Chekhov, I don't want to know what that thing will do when it hits us," he commanded.

Chekhov drew in a deep breath, blew it out, and nodded. "Y-Yes Captain I will try."

"Good man!" Kirk commended him, slapping his shoulder. He moved to the left and put his hand on Sulu's shoulder, ignoring or not noticing the uncomfortable fidget of his conn officer. "Alright Sulu, can you keep that thing off of us?"

"I can try Captain but I don't put our manoeuvring abilities at good odds against something that seemed to have no issues keeping up with us at warp."

"Do what you can," Kirk said, slapping his shoulder and almost dancing back to his chair.

Uhura and Spock quickly schooled their faces into mirror stone images of each other, both obviously fake.

"Uhura keep trying to get them to reply. Spock, give me anything you can collect on it."

"Yes sir."

"Yes, Captain."

"Alright crew, let's give this metal dog a show." Kirk landed in his chair, then pointed finger guns at the viewscreen. "Execute Pattern Kirk Alpha."

"Of course he names it that," Uhura muttered under her breath even as everyone leapt into action.

Spock smirked to show he'd heard her but didn't otherwise react.

Sulu abruptly fired the lower maneuvering jets and began flipping the ship over, only barely keeping within tolerances of the internal dampening systems.

Everyone found themselves pressed into their seats. Chekhov sent the man next to him a look like he was crazy, but his console started beeping to alert him to his own problems.

"Haha Sulu what are you doing?!" Kirk asked, gripping his chair.

"What you said Captain, keeping it off of us."

"Yeah-hahah," Kirk fired back, wide eyed.

""It vould be nice if you could leave me any charged phaser banks to work with, Sulu!"" Chekhov barked, rapidly opening and closing windows in an attempt to find one array both pointed at the rapidly swiveling away from his combat horizon metallic blob.

Sulu, grinning wide, laughed out loud. "Can't do that Chekhov I've got a ship to fly!"

Chekhov let out a muttered Russian curse at the conn officer next to him. "безрассудный маньяк!"

That of course only made the crazy Asian man smile more.

Finally the ship flipped around and Sulu fired the opposite thrusters, punching the impulse engines to maximum at the same time.

"Aaand we're flipped!" Sulu announced. He let go of the controls momentarily to grin at Chekhov. "You should use the rear phasers."

Chekhov pursed his lips and glared at him even as he opened the control windows for those very phasers.

Kirk blinked, having watched the entire byplay. "Right," he coughed, standing up brushing off his uniform. "Thank you for your excellent flying, Lieutenant Sulu."

"Anytime Captain."

Kirk scowled at him and turned to a slightly sick Uhura and a thoroughly amused Spock. "Anything?" he demanded.

"The blob continues to be amorphous and defy our scanners, Captain," Spock succinctly informed him.

Uhura barely kept herself from throwing up. "No response yet."

Kirk raised an eyebrow at the lack of a Captain in her tone but ignored it due to how she looked like she was about to hurl. "Okay."

"Captain it's accelerating!" Sulu warned him, once more looking at the viewscreen.

Kirk spun around and saw the steadily growing blob. It almost filled the view between the warp nacelles. "Chekhov!"

"Almost Captain!" the weapons officer pleaded.

"Chekov I can see my life flashing before my eyes!"

The ship hummed as a bright burst of orange tinted exotic particles leapt out from the hull of the ship in between the nacelle pylons, directly towards the blob.

"Got it, Captain!" Chekhov celebrated.

"Good job Chekhov, excellent shoo-" Kirk began to compliment him.

Then the phaser blast missed the blob. By what looked like the entire length of the ship.

It was silent on the bridge except for Chekhov allowing his head to drop to the console.

"Chekhov," Kirk began again, but this time was interrupted by Spock.

"Captain, Commander Chekhov did not miss. The blob moved out of the way."

"Oh great!" Kirk yelled. "So it can dodge too!"

"It is not an unheard of capability for amorphous beings to dodge harmful blasts of particles aimed at them."

"Not now Spock, I don't need a science lecture!"

"Captain, the blob is stopping!" Sulu said, cutting off the argument.

Everyone on the bridge as one turned to the viewscreen to see that the blob was indeed falling away from the ship.

"Sulu," Kirk cautiously said, "bring us to a stop too."

"Aye Captain," Sulu said, immediately punching the reverse impulse engines.

"Slowly!"

Sulu pouted, but he did lower the engines down a few notches.

Chekhov rolled his eyes and muttered 'speed demon' into his console.

Sulu went from pout to unrepentant grin so fast it looked unnatural. But that was Sulu for you.

The ship slowed to a stop roughly the same distance away from the Enterprise as it had been when they started this escape attempt.

Nobody said anything for several moments.

"Now what?" Kirk asked.

As if in reply to him, the blob began moving. But not towards them, it was fluctuating and changing shape.

"Captain, it appears to be growing some kind of structures inside and on itself," Spock announced.

Chekhov shot straight up and gulped. He looked down at his sensors and his face paled even further than it normally was due to his Russian lineage. "Captain, those are phaser cannons!"

"Oh come on!" Kirk yelled. "Sulu, punch it!"

"Yes Captain," Sulu gleefully acknowledged, slamming the impulse engine lever all the way down to the floor.

The Enterprise jumped into full thrust, inertial dampeners maxed. Kirk found himself bowled over his chair. It was only as he got up that he saw the unrepentant smile of his conn officer.

"Very good," Kirk coughed. "Exactly what I asked for."

Sulu just grinned at him and shrugged. He had been prepared for the abrupt velocity change and didn't even seem to have a hair out of place.

Kirk groaned, hugging his sides. "Gonna feel that in the morning."

Chekhov recovered quickly and checked his console. "CAPTAIN!" he yelled. "IT IS FIWING!"

Kirk groaned again and pulled himself into his chair. "Evasive maneuvers, Sulu!"

Sulu spun around and obliged him, proceeding to do executions of movement with the Enterprise that only two very kinky lovers would attempt. Just in time too, as the blob proceeded to rain phaser bolts in their direction faster than the Enterprise and six of her sisters could.

To the detriment of everyone's stomachs.

"Captain," Spock said after about a minute of that, "It is missing us on purpose."

Kirk groggily looked at him. "What?"

"Not a single one of its blasts has actually been on course to hit us." Spock was taking the crazy shit Sulu was putting the entire ship through better than everyone else, but even he looked a little green. Well, greener.

Kirk stared at him for a couple of seconds. "Chekhov can you confirm?"

The Russian and previously actively swearing out Sulu weapons officer started, then examined his console. His eyebrows rose. "Aye, Captain. Not a one."

Kirk groaned, massaging his head. "Sulu, lessen your maneuvers, let's see what it does."

Sulu acknowledged the command, though he sounded slightly put out. "Yes Captain."

The ship ceased performing movements more fitted to a frigate and instead settled into calmer evasive maneuvers under Sulu's skilled hands. Everyone's stomachs were thankful.

"Oka- urp," Kirk began, barely keeping himself from throwing up, "status?"

"Still missing us Captain," Chekhov announced.

Spock nodded. "It appears to have adjusted its firing patterns in anticipation of us lowering our rate of maneuvers," he concurred.

Kirk threw up his hands and glared at the brilliantly orange bolts flashing by the ship, but never hitting it. "Fine! Sulu, drop us to minimum speed."

"Are you sure, Captain?" he asked.

"Yes. But if it does start hitting us, do what you have to do."

"Yes, Captain," Sulu acknowledged. He pulled back on the impulse engine lever until they were only barely running and stopped manipulating the maneuvering thrusters.

"It has changed its firing patterns again, Captain," Spock announced.

Kirk scowled. "So it grows phasers after we fire at it and fires back, but intentionally misses?" he asked, growling. "It's like it's playing with us!"

Nobody said anything for several moments, once more, as they contemplated that.

"Maybe it is," Uhura mused.

Kirk raised an eyebrow and turned to her. "How?"

Uhura met his eyes and smiled. "Well you did call it a dog, Captain."

Suddenly the channel which had been listening for the blob's response received a transmission. It was already set up to pipe to the bridge speakers, so the content of the transmission immediately played out loud.

It was a dog barking. In a friendly, playful way.

The pulses of phaser particles faded away as the thing stopped shooting and it began moving towards them again, aiming for pulling alongside them.

Rapid happy dog pants filled the bridge.

Kirk slumped down in his chair and groaned, hiding his head in his hands, even as the bridge crew erupted into snickering and laughter. Spock's smirk was there too, somehow audible even though it was quieter than breathing.

He was too sick from Sulu's maneuvers to deal with a dog blob.

 

[TheLastTalcBender]

I don't know if that's the most bizarre thing I've read, but it has to at least make the list...

 

[TCGM]

Dreading The Abyss
Chapter 2
Baseically, Run
​

After all the conversions are done I'm left with a flotilla of unconscious, very much sunk if my subdrones weren't saving them, schoolgirls from a variety of different nations.

Heh, a school of schoolgirls.

...Shut up, I'm only coping with my abrupt life change by force injecting bad humor.

Anyways, I have a bunch of normal shipgirls and one Battleship Princess.

While she can run on her own power, the rest of them can't. And my cute little subs are apparently really good at keeping ships afloat, but simply don't have the engine power to sail them too.

Le Sigh.

I guess it's up to me.

"It is gonna take us forever to get to Hawaii," I idly comment. At the same time, I ready my arrays of grappling tow cables for deployment.

"Hawaii?" the Princess speaks up, sounding worried. "Why would we go there?"

I look back at her. Yup, her face is a rictus of concern. And a little bit of fear.

"I figure there'll be more Abyssals there to convert, and I'd rather have a really nice calling card for when I contact the navies of this world," I succinctly explain.

She looks like she's going to say something but her breath hitches in her throat and an obviously very different question erupts from her. "You plan to contact them? Why?!"

I grimace unamusedly. "I don't know about you, but I will need a resupply at some point," I deadpan.

"Bu-bu-bu-" she stammers, becoming flustered, "they're criminals!"

I blink with surprise and halt my movements. I'm definitely looking at her like she's not running on all her screws, and hey look a brand new euphemism for being a dumbass that shipgirlifing has granted me! Sweet!

Back on topic, criminals? What?

I mean yes, the U.S. is turning (turned? what date is it?) into a corrupt oligarchy, but those are just the people at the top.

Most US Americans aren't criminals.

Same for Japan, China, Russia, The UK, all of Europe, Most of Africa, some of Asia…

Not even Germany has its criminals in the general population anymore. If there are truly criminals among them, they're at the top, or on their way to it.

So what the hell is she talking about?

"The hell are you talking about, kid?" I ask out loud, turning fully to look at her.

She looks close to tears, but she stamps her foot and keeps talking. "They're all criminals!" she repeats. "They made us fight for them, die for them, and tossed us away! They forgot about us and what we taught and just kept going!"

Oooooohhhh.

I'm in one of those universes.

I sigh and rub the bridge of my nose. "Who the frak told you all of that bullshit?"

"Bullshit? Wha-" she starts to ask, taken aback.

I drop my hand slightly and raise my gaze to glare straight into her eyes. "Yes. Bullshit." I insist. "Now who?"

"Our savior!" she fires back, huffing. "The servant of the Great One who saved us!"

Great One? Oh, fuck no, this better not be what I think it is.

"Please tell me this Great One doesn't have tentacles and a fetish for darkness," I plead.

Her eyebrows shoot up. Even before she confirms it, I know I'm right. "How do you know of them?"

I purse my annoyingly kissable lips and sigh. "The Abyss is run by a Lovecraftian Monster. Great!" I complain, throwing up my hands.

"Lovecraftian?" Princess mumbles, trying the word on for size.

I begin dropping tow cables into the water behind me for my few free sub drones to grab and attach to the ex-Abyssal fleet. "Tell ya later." The ships closest to me get anchored almost immediately. "Preferably when I can stomach the idea that I might need to fight a fucking Elder God before the wars on this planet end. I don't have nearly large enough guns for that!"

Yet.

My Princess… and isn't that a neat quirk of my new species, she is definitely my ship now, wisely says nothing more, but her presence remains supportive even if she's shooting worried glances my way when she thinks I can't see her.

Right. Adding that, and the certainty I know I can feel about how factual her place is relative to me, to the pile of shit to deal with later. For now, I've got a bunch more girls to rig up for what is probably going to end up being one of the longest tows in human or shipkind history.

Ninety-nine busty ships on the sea, ninety-nine busty ships, rig one up and haul her ass, ninety-eight busty ships on the sea...

---

And so it is, like Santa before me, I approached the Hawaiian islands, specifically Oahu, with a bunch of chains over my shoulder and presents sacked behind me.

"Well. That looks inviting."

My sarcasm is about as biting as the sudden wind chill that descends upon my fleet underneath the rapidly darkening sky as whatever the fuck that is on the middling island glares at me balefully.

It's, or she's, perched on top of what is probably Diamond Head if my maps are correct, at least before it was tunneled into with what had to be a literal army of moles and converted to a volcano base that would give most Bond villains lair envy. This glorious structure seems attached like a skirt to the betentacled, beturreted, shapely as all hell, pale-skinned woman whose legs seem to not exist, as her waist ends past incredible hips where the skirt flares out.

Either that or her legs are knee-deep in a formerly inactive caldera, in which case I sure fucking hope she's using geothermal because otherwise I am going to have a problem after I've cleared her of Abyss.

Also, I may or may not be gunsexual now, because despite the sheer wrong emanating from the still somewhat sexy, somehow, amalgamation of a snow-white woman and a fucking island fortress I'm having to drag my eyes away not from her chest, as I would have expected of myself previously, but from her giant cliff mounted cannons.

Death by Snu-Snu? No, that's my new job. I wouldn't mind her shoving those cannons into my face and leaning down from her taller height to leer at me tho-

A muzzle flash from one of the barrels thankfully yanks me out of my thoughts, because I likely would've gone literally nuclear if my reactor containment and the blush I can feel burning on my face continued any further.

My eyes don't even need to track the strangely oversized projectile. Once it's in range of me, several of my laser arrays reach out and melt it to slag. This also happens to direct it into the ocean in front of me at a much slower speed than it was previously traveling, and the splash of the now slagged shell washes up my leg for a moment.

I can't resist it. I know she can see me. And what better way to start flirting diplomatic relations than a little bit of wisecracking?

I smirk, turn my directed radio blaster towards her, and broadcast. "Hey! It's not nice to shoot people!"





"D̵̦̺̳̆͆̆͂̽̌͒̅͝I̸̧̧̡̲̘̤̥̝̳̬̫͖̞͇̻͇̳̹̣̾͑̈́̃͗̏͊̓̌͋̽͐̀͒͂̕͘͘͠E̵̛̤̻̘̼̗̟͚͉̫̼̝̻͉̳̤͕̬̰̞̫͐̔̏̊̎́̏̒̈͊͝ ̴̘͇̤̖̖̩̗̮̔͋̈͜͝Y̶̨̢̧̢̛̹̣̗̲͚͔͍͔̪̺̅̔̀̒͝O̶̧̨͍̗̩̭̹͕̠̥̞̙̥̩̼͚͖̬̟̬̓͘͠ͅƯ̴̧̬̦̞̲̙̮̦̜̹͎̫͓̥̄̑̇̃̃̐̽̀̔̃͛̎̄̄͋̿̀̚ͅ ̴̨̧̡͇͉̞͇̰͎͓̝̹͙̠͎̲͇̳͇̋̇̎͛̿̍̌̌̕̚͘͝͝͝ͅͅF̶͉̱̺̰̯̬̞̈́̂͌̀̑̋A̴̮̥̯͍͔͙̩̦̠̜̰̯̻͚̣̱̱͍̐̽̐̿̌K̷͓̳̥̈̎̀̏̆̏̑̊̾͑͆͆̃̚͝͝͠ͅȨ̸̡̧͖͇͔͚̌̑̌͊͌̀͂͊͑̈́̈́̆̐́͒̓̾͋͜͝ ̵̢͚̘̝͚̠̬̩̪̤̖̫̗͇͓̰̲͇̱̮̗͋̽͋P̴̤̹̺̹̟̏̅̏̅͜͜R̶͙̭͇̰̜̩̯͓̰̣̯̺͂͋̄̀̀̄͌̈́̓̈́̔͗͋̃̊̆̍͘͝͝Į̴̨̯̰̟̘͇͕̲͙̪̮͆̍̂̎͋͗̔̍̄̈́̔͆́̇̕̕͝͠N̶̡̢̹͖͓͈̫̹̥̺̰͎̱̮͖̜̗̋̓̔̔͒͗̃̅̈́̓͒̀̾̓̀̓̾͐̎̕C̸̨̠̲͙̫͉̫̤͈̙̞͎͍̼͕̔́͆̔̀͊̆̋͛͊̀̀̒̈́̽͐͠͝ͅÈ̷̡̘̰̝̯̇Ş̷̛̰̳͍̹͈̻̻̜̗̰̩̼̭̺͍͔̩̙̐̊͋̉̊̾͆͂̀͜S̸̡̛͖̹͚̠̝̪̤͎̘̠̈́̾̅̒́́͊͆̆͜ͅ!̷̪̲̠͔͉̦̪̱̤̼̪̰͎̬͇̯̂͂̌̀̀͌̾͘!̸̧̯̥͙͖͉͚̎̅̚͜!̶̲̝͙͇̤̟̥̻̀̍͐̅̊͑̊̿̐͐̉͗"




That's all I get in return.

I blink, totally unable to hear anything but roaring, corrupted static in the incoming signal, and turn to the converted Princess who's likely going to be my secretary ship in the future.

Because yes, I have a fleet. I'm towing them behind me. A bit of a fixer upper, but all of them are powerful if my sensors are getting their designs right. Also knowing who I am and the fact I have dockyard capability, they're going to end up being refit by me into truly overpowered ships which make shipwrights everywhere cry.

Look at me, future shipfus. I'm the Admiral-chan now.

"You get any of that?"

She frowns. "Before you converted me I spoke like that, I even remember my own words, but none of that made sense to me this time." She looks down and shuffles her feet on the water. "Sorry, Flag-sama."

Okay no, I'm nipping that right in the bud immediately. "My name is… Poseidon." It feels right, even though logically I know it shouldn't. "You can call me that, ma'am, or Posi. But I'm basically American, so please don't use honorifics with me. One, it's likely to confuse me, and two, if you do, you're going to end up starting so many rumors about us."

"Uhm… okay, Poseidon. You are my Flagship. I will try to do as you request… ma'am."

Good enough. "Thank you. That's all I can ask."

The Abyssal installation on Oahu hasn't been idle of course. She's got an incredibly angry and offended look on her face, probably because she thinks I'm ignoring her. To be fair, she does not have the majority of my attention, but I'm not outright ignoring her. That's just mean!

Another shell gets fired at me.

I am no longer quite as amused. I turn back to glare at her while my arrays deal with this shell just as easily. "Hey! I'm talking here! Go fire on someone your own size!"

"Umm… Poseidon?"

I raise an eyebrow towards my Princess. "Yeah, what?"

"You… you are her size."

"... Oh, right."

I'm a Dreadnought.

I forgot that in the arousing haze of my apparent peer's guns.

Also despite a part of me, the woman part, feeling slightly miffed at having my size commented on… she's not wrong.

Splash

My lasers don't even bother firing, that's how off course that was.

"ALRIGHT, THAT DOES IT! AS SOON AS I GET THERE I'M SENDING MY MEN RIGHT INSIDE YOU!"

Stunned silence meets my ears, both from the radio and my Princess.

"... What?"

"Uhm…" my Princess fidgets with her fingers, blushes, and turns away.

The adorables do a very good job of attempting to reign my focus in like a fishing rod, but I resist. Barely.

One moment to play what I just said back in my head and it dawns on me.

Palm, meet face.

Clang

Noted: shipgirl facepalming has a sound effect.

"Not what I meant!" I protest, wildly flailing my arms.

The sound of several booms from the installation's turrets distract me from my distraction, and I turn to see way more than a couple of shells heading my way.

I don't even bother changing course. These are shells. I'm designed to intercept missiles and railgun rounds. The Abyss is gonna have to throw a lot more impressive ordnance my way before it becomes a legitimate threat.

More of my laser blisters activate and erase the incoming fire from the sky.

Oh yeah. She's mad now.

"Ma'am?" my Princess squeaks. She shrinks back from the death glare that the installation sends us both and tries to occlude the line of sight with my hull.

Not exactly difficult considering how fucking wide I am, but that's not the point. Someone under my care is being scared, and I will not allow it.

"Hey!" I shout towards her, still ensuring I broadcast on radio just in case MSSB doesn't cover voices carrying over the distance. "Stop scaring my kid! I'm warning you!"

Boom

Splash

My eye twitches.

Oh, there's those momboat instincts, and they're combining with my flagship instincts, my big gun fuck you instincts, and the sense of justice and all that is good from my original life.

"FINE!" I shout at her. If she wants to play wargames, I'll show her just why I'm the biggest, baddest motherfucking fuck you ship on the planet.

I can always repair her later.

I turn my upper body to my Princess and warn her, a serious look on my face. "Cover your ears."

She looks at me, confused. "I am a ship. I don't need hearing protect-" she protests.

I cut her off by pointing at my already repositioned turrets. "You will for these at this range until I harden your bridge."

Her eyes are drawn to the barrels which do an appreciable effort at matching her entire width and she swallows. No more words are offered in response. She just shoves her hands over her ears and nods.

Right.

I direct a few of my railguns towards the biggest turrets I can see on the enemy Installation, while the rest of those that can fire her way (a pitiful number given how I'm sailing directly towards my target) are aimed squarely at her face.

She gives me a haughty look like she's infinitely superior to me and is just allowing me to fire to prove how pitiful my guns are.

And hey, again to be fair to her, the barrels aren't as big as you'd expect. They don't fire very large slugs.

But they fire the smaller slugs several dozen times faster than the speed of sound, so.

Appearances can be deceiving. Especially if you're from a techbase that has only dreamed of the can of whoopass which is about to be unleashed on the unsuspecting installation.

Also, I need to do this quickly because we're getting closer to Pearl and I don't want to break every window on the island when I fire.

…Whatever windows are still around after the Abyssals destroyed everything, anyways.

Look, it's the thought that counts.

Unlike before with the fleet my Princess led against me when she was part of the Abyss, I'm not going to be firing disabling shots this time. My target is much too big for that.

No, I'm intending to put quite a few holes in her, and so I load the actual slugs I have stocked into my guns. No warhead shells here, just solid, cone capped cylinders of pure tungsten.

That abyssal base is gonna feel this until I can patch her up, but hopefully it'll be enough to dissuade her from firing on my fleet until I can get close enough to… capture her.

Almost said it again. Gods, I'm like Iowa and Kongou, but even worse. It's like my original lewd-joke-ometer got turned up to 11 and then yeeted into the sun.

Good news, I'll hold my own.

Bad news, anybody who's not a big gun shipgirl who has to talk to me is going to rue the day they heard my name.

Oh well. Sucks for them. Anyways, time to make this installation's day a lot worse.

My rails charge, the barrels spin, and I stand upon the waves with my hand held towards her, fist clenched.

Because of course I'm going to do this.

"I cast fist."

She has a single second to wonder what the hell I meant before the local atmosphere ceases to exist again.

A couple of seconds later, since I'm so much closer to my target this time, truly gigantic explosions tear parts of her base body apart, and that's stuff that was anchored to the ground. A few of the spots I targeted are craters, their earth and whatever passes for concrete in Abyssals vaporized on contact. Some others look like upturned mounds of rock and dirt from where the slugs over penetrated the ground and then released the majority of their kinetic energy.

Rock poppers, the fictional civilization I made up for… myself, I guess, called this type of strike.

Most would call it bunker busting.

The huge turrets she used to have on the cliffs just straight up no longer exist. It pains me to have sacrificed those beauties to the gods of bombardment but they were the primary threat to my fleet of drag-alongs. It's fine, I'll build her new ones later. Probably with some real guns. No self-respecting installation of mine is going to be without any high-powered electromagnetic, humming, no, purring, big ass guns.

She's definitely in the right mood now. As the smoke and debris clears away, her face is revealed. The haughty look of superiority has been wiped off her face in exchange for a look of justified fear. And her hands are in the air, palms facing forward and spread, the universal language for 'please don't shoot me'.

In this case it would be please don't shoot her again, but the point stands.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, that flagship instinct flares again. I'm satisfied with this. I have demonstrated my Superior firepower, and it is only right that she shows me due… if not deference, if not acknowledgment of my status above her, at least some healthy fear.

My human senses take that drive, punch it in the face, and shove that particular part of those instincts down deep into a box which I proceed to lock, and then throw away the key.

None of that shit is screwing my mind up, thank you very much. I'm human, and I will remain human. Even if I have guns that can level a city.

Why? Because fuck the Abyss, shipgirl conditioning, and the horse that any of it rode in on. I have read way too many shipgirl stories to fall victim to that bullshit.

Anyways, she stopped firing… I doubt she really can anymore, and whatever is left defending Pearl Harbor is not a threat.

Not that there seems to be very much.

Geez, did they send their whole fleet after me?

"Yes, we did," my princess replies, and only now do I realize I said that out loud. "Your radar signature was huge. Also, those guns are scary, and thank you very much for not firing whatever the hell that was at me."

Finally! Something to distract me from my internal turmoil!

I turn back to my princess and give her a beaming smile and a thumbs up. "You're welcome!" I exclaimed happily, genuinely happy to not have to think about shipgirl instincts at this moment. "Now let's go bag ourselves a base. A bit of a fixer upper, but hey. She surrendered."

"Why didn't you destroy her?" she asks me. "Your... cannons clearly can."

"Why blow up what's already built?" I deflect, shrugging.

"...You just want a volcano lair, don't you?"

"I plead the fifth."

 

[TheLastTalcBender]

Eyy! You're still alive! That's excellent news! And still writing, which is even better news! (I'm not sure what you not being alive but still writing would count as. It's probably good that we haven't had to categorize that one.)

and the splash of the now sagged shell

Click to shrink...

slagged?

"ALRIGHT, THAT DOES IT! AS SOON AS I GET THERE I'M SENDING MY MEN RIGHT INSIDE YOU!"

Click to shrink...

Oh my. How lewd~!

It really surprises me how most kancolle/etc stories don't go for more ham and cheese. Or double entendres.

"Stop scaring my kid! I'm earning you!"

Click to shrink...

warning?

"...You just want a volcano lair, don't you?"

"I plead the fifth."

Click to shrink...

Don't worry, everyone wants a volcano lair. Those who don't are in denial.

 

[TCGM]

Eyy! You're still alive! That's excellent news! And still writing, which is even better news! (I'm not sure what you not being alive but still writing would count as. It's probably good that we haven't had to categorize that one.)


slagged?

Oh my. How lewd~!

It really surprises me how most kancolle/etc stories don't go for more ham and cheese. Or double entendres.

warning?

Don't worry, everyone wants a volcano lair. Those who don't are in denial.

Click to shrink...

I'm still here! Just had a very tough two years is all. Also some psych hangups from what happened a couple of years ago regarding the XMas special, but I'm starting to get over those and thus more writing! By voice, too, which is where all those typos came from.

I'll fix em shortly, thanks for pointing them out!