Siren Base, Southern Pacific
July 20, 1942
8:00 AM
The Siren Base was a maelstrom of twisted metal and panicked energy, each relentless salvo from Azur Lane tearing deeper into its defenses. Modern Kansen, acting as nimble eyes and floating radar arrays, precisely guided Battleship main guns with their advanced electronics, turning the bombardment into a devastatingly accurate rain of destruction.
Amidst the ongoing assault, the Siren Minions responsible for the base's defenses cautiously emerged from cover. Some immediately began the arduous task of repairing the widespread damage, while others surveyed the wreckage, their expressions grim as they assessed what was beyond salvage.
These Siren Minions, eerily reminiscent of Executor-Class units stripped-out of their formidable rigging, moved with a determined urgency.
Siren HQ
Inside the command center, the metallic clang of Tester α's fist against the table echoed the raw frustration radiating from her. Executor-Class Sirens stood silently around her, their defeated postures mirroring their leader's despair.
"Damn it all! Where in the abyss are the Arbiters when everything is falling apart?" Tester α's voice cracked with unbridled anger.
Strategist Mark-III hesitantly offered, "Ma'am... perhaps there's still a sliver of hope, a chance to reverse this tide?"
"A chance?" Tester α scoffed, her gaze sharp. "Are you oblivious to the reports? Our bases are under constant siege, day in and day out! Harassed relentlessly by Azur Lane!"
"But, Ma'am..." the Strategist began again, his voice barely a whisper.
"The Arbiters offer no support. Observer α has descended into a fractured madness, truly deserving of the label 'insane.' And Purifier... that annoying head is a constant, irritating reminder of our failures," Tester α spat out, her patience clearly at its breaking point.
A cheerful, if somewhat unhinged, voice piped up, "HAHAHA! But I'm still useful, you know! HAHAHA!" Purifier, the disembodied head, was as grating as ever, now carried around by Tester α like a bizarre, unwanted accessory.
Tester α's eyes flickered with annoyance towards the head perched precariously close to the edge of her command table. She recalled the strange circumstances of Purifier's continued existence.
Before Omitter could extract Tester α and the traumatized Observer α from their near-demise, she had stumbled upon Purifier's severed head bobbing in the ocean, still spouting nonsensical phrases.
"I almost forgot you were even there," Tester α mumbled, a hint of weary irritation lacing her tone.
"Hey! It's rude to ignore someone you know..." Purifier chirped back, oblivious to the tension in the room.
With a groan of utter exasperation, Tester α slammed her head onto the unforgiving metal surface of the table.
"Ouch! That actually hurt!" then chuckles.
The Executor-Class Sirens exchanged worried glances. Their sole remaining leader seemed to be teetering on the brink, the immense pressure of responsibility and the daunting task of formulating a counter-attack plan clearly taking its toll.
The door hissed open like that of sliding door, and Omitter slipped into the room. The Executor-Class units shifted to allow her passage as she approached the visibly stressed Tester α.
"How is Observer α? Is she showing any signs of recovery from her trauma?" Tester α asked, a flicker of genuine concern in her voice.
Omitter shook her head sadly. "Still the same. The nightmares about that 'Carrier'... they haven't stopped."
A barely audible murmur escaped Tester α's lips, a single word filled with bitter recognition. "Enterprise."
Omitter nodded grimly. "I also received an encrypted transmission... from Zero."
Tester α's head snapped up, a bewildered expression washing over her face. "What?"
"Zero will be sending Compiler... and..." Omitter paused, allowing the weight of the information to sink in.
"And?" Tester α pressed, her anxiety mounting.
"And Arbiter: Strength VIII is currently in full retreat... here, in the Southern Pacific."
Tester α instinctively clutched her head, the news hitting her like a physical blow. She hadn't anticipated any direct support from Zero, but even the arrival of a retreating Arbiter was better than nothing. However, a knot of apprehension tightened in her stomach. Dealing with Arbiters was always... complicated, especially when considering Empress III's destructive rampages.
Suddenly, a swirling purple portal materialized in the center of the room. The atmosphere grew heavy, charged with an unseen energy, as the portal expanded. From within its depths emerged a pale woman in a pristine white dress, flanked by two unsettling energy tentacles that pulsed with an inner light, and a dome-shaped hexagonal shield that shimmered with power.
Trailing behind her was another woman, her skin a stark dark-grey, clad in minimal attire that accentuated her imposing physique. Massive metallic arms extended from her shoulders, and a robotic shark-like tail, edged with pulsating blue lighting, swished ominously behind her.
"How is the base holding up?" Compiler's voice was low and serious, cutting through the tense silence.
Tester α's anger still simmered beneath the surface, but her weary expression conveyed the grim reality. "Bad. Very bad."
"I see..." Compiler's gaze swept across the room, taking in the damage and the demoralized Siren units. "We've brought an additional fleet of Mass-Produced Siren Ships to bolster your defenses and repel the next attack."
A visible spark of renewed hope flickered amongst the Executor-Class Sirens at the mention of reinforcements. The devastating losses they had sustained in the recent battles within the Sakura Empire's territorial waters still weighed heavily on them.
"Who will be in overall command?" Tester α asked, a sense of foreboding lingering. She knew this wasn't the entirety of the news.
A slow, almost predatory smile spread across Compiler's face. "We will be taking charge of this operation."
After a string of disheartening failures, a wave of relief washed over Tester α as she was effectively relieved of command over the remaining forces in the Southern Pacific. In truth, she would have preferred the erratic but familiar presence of Observer α over the often-unpredictable and occasionally cruel authority of the Arbiters.
Omitter leaned closer, her voice a low whisper. "Do you think they'll use us as mere cannon fodder? Just like the Executor-Class?"
Tester α's reply was quiet, laced with a grim resignation. "Yes. In their eyes, that's precisely what we are."
Unseen by the chattering Executor-Class Sirens, a silent battle of wills was taking place. Arbiter: Strength VIII and Tester α were locked in an intense, unwavering stare-down, a silent power struggle that only Omitter and Compiler seemed to notice.
Enterprise Carrier Strike Force
Across the vast expanse of the Southern Pacific, a formidable armada of warships sailed in a precise formation, reminiscent of the large-scale RIMPAC Exercises. At the heart of this powerful fleet were eight Fleet Aircraft Carriers from the Eagle Union and the Royal Navy, spearheaded by a colossal Ford-Class supercarrier: CVN-80 USS Enterprise.
Battleships, Cruisers, and Destroyers formed a protective screen around the carriers, the Aegis-Equipped Ships providing an intricate web of detection and defense for the entire Task Force.
LHA-12 USS Essex sailed with her own dedicated fleet, tasked with transporting a division of mixed Union Army and Royal Army Troops. Many of these soldiers were woefully inexperienced in Amphibious Warfare, a significant portion being recent high school graduates thrust into the realities of combat.
Onboard the USS Enterprise CVN-80, in the ship's briefing room, a diverse group of Shipgirls and largely 'green' Commanders gathered for a crucial strategy session. The objective was clear: drive the Siren forces out of the Southern Pacific. This ambitious endeavor had been a long-held aspiration of Admiral Nimitz ever since the Enterprise Strike Group had joined forces with Azur Lane.
"Alright, listen up," Enterprise-80 began, her voice commanding attention. All eyes turned to the projected image on the whiteboard as her laser pointer focused on a specific structure.
"What you're looking at is a Siren Weather Tower. Intelligence suggests this tower is capable of summoning localized storms and generating dense fog or other weather phenomena to severely hinder our aerial reconnaissance."
One of the Commanders spoke up, his brow furrowed. "We initially thought those were just advanced spotter towers?"
"Yes, that was the initial assessment. However, recent intel strongly indicates its true purpose as a weather manipulation device," Enterprise-80 confirmed.
Another Commander inquired, "How exactly are they generating these fog banks and storms?"
Enterprise-80 shrugged slightly. "I'm not a scientist, so I can't provide a detailed technical explanation."
"How are we going to neutralize them without alerting the base to our approach?" Enterprise-6 asked, her expression thoughtful.
The commanders and shipgirls new to such high-level strategic discussions found themselves momentarily disoriented by the presence of two Enterprise units in the same room.
"I'll dispatch a squadron of F/A-18 Hornets equipped with anti-radiation missiles to deal with these towers. Following their neutralization, the battleships will commence a heavy bombardment to soften the Siren defenses, and the carriers will provide continuous air cover and close air support for the ground troops," Enterprise-80 outlined the initial phase of the operation.
"What about the Elite-Sirens and Executor-Class units that are undoubtedly guarding the base?" Formidable inquired, her voice laced with concern.
"We'll handle them," Enterprise-80 stated with unwavering confidence.
Bunker Hill-67 then changed the projected image to a detailed map of the Siren Base. The entire island was a complex network of trenches, reinforced bunkers, watchtowers, and strategically placed plasma cannon emplacements.
"Listen closely," Bunker Hill-67 instructed, her glasses sharp, her tone serious. "Our immediate objective is to breach a small but significant gap in their defenses to allow our ground troops to penetrate the Siren Base. They will be accompanied by Lucas and Essex as they spearhead the assault on the main Siren buildings, securing any available intelligence."
A palpable sense of doubt hung in the air amongst the commanders and shipgirls in the room. They remembered previous amphibious landing attempts, undertaken when they had seasoned commanders both on land and at sea.
The prospect of launching another such operation with largely inexperienced Commanders and raw Troops felt akin to a desperate, suicidal Hail Mary pass directly into the enemy's waiting arms.
"I am aware that many of you harbor doubts about this endeavor," Enterprise-80 acknowledged, her gaze sweeping across the room. "But I assure you all... we will reclaim what is rightfully humanity's... no matter the cost."
Her words did little to dispel the underlying apprehension, but they did instill a measure of resolve, a flicker of confidence in this audacious attempt to wrest the former Azur Lane base from Siren control.
LHA-12 USS Essex
Hangar Deck
Lucas paced before the assembled troops, delivering what he intended as a motivational speech, though his every sentence seemed punctuated with a colorful array of slurs. The Azur Lane Army Troops, a mix of bewildered Union and concerned Royal Personnel, exchanged uneasy glances at his abrasive language
.
Equipped with standard M4 rifles and body armor drawn from the ships' armory – a provision authorized by Enterprise-80 to ensure their basic protection – the troops stood in apprehensive silence.
"Do you ladies understand?!" Lucas barked, his voice echoing through the hangar bay.
A Royal Army Trooper hesitantly raised his hand. Lucas spotted him and pointed a rigid finger. "Yes, you. What is it, princess?"
"Sir," the young man began politely, "do you really have to... call us that? I mean, I know we might curse sometimes, but why the constant... slurs in every single sentence?"
"Were you born into nobility?" Lucas shot back, his eyes narrowing.
"Yes, Sir," the trooper replied proudly, puffing out his chest slightly. Several other Royal Army soldiers around him straightened up in shared pride.
That single word was all the fuel Lucas needed to unleash his particular brand of "motivation." He took a deep, theatrical breath, preparing to verbally dismantle the unfortunate Royal Army Recruit.
"I don't give a flying fuck about your fancy noble titles!" he roared, spittle flying.
"To me, you're all just pieces of shit! This is your last goddamn chance to prove you're not completely useless! I want you to fight like rabid animals, so the enemy shits their pants at the mere sight of you! We're not here for some dainty gentlemen's tea party; we're here for some ungentlemanly tea-bagging of the Siren's sorry asses! Do you understand me, you worthless piece of shit?!"
The Royal Army Troops looked as though they might genuinely soil their trousers at the Marine's furious outburst. Veins bulged in his neck, and his eyes held a predatory intensity as they locked onto each individual soldier.
Essex-12 watched Lucas's tirade, a mixture of amusement and exasperation on her face. He reminded her of a particularly aggressive father scolding a group of unruly children. Having just completed her inspection of the Assault Combat Vehicles (ACVs) slated for the amphibious assault, she walked towards the tense group.
"Okay, that's enough, Lucas," she interjected, her tone firm but not unkind. "You're going to make them cry like babies before the operation even starts."
"Just giving them a little... encouragement," Lucas grumbled, though a hint of a smirk played on his lips.
Essex-12 glanced at the terrified Royal Army Troops and the stifled laughter of the Union Army contingent. "Yeah. By the looks of it, they were probably all pampered rich kids back home," she muttered.
"Ma'am, we may have been born into nobil—" the same Royal Army trooper began, his voice trembling slightly.
"Did your mother never teach you not to interrupt adults when they're talking?! You speak when you're asked or spoken to! Do you understand?!" Essex-12 snapped, her authoritative tone mirroring Lucas's intensity, catching both the Union and Royal Army Troops completely off guard.
"If you all act like a bunch of delicate princesses, how in the hell are we supposed to land in enemy-held territory?! Think about it!" she challenged, her gaze piercing.
The Troops from both factions lowered their heads, a dawning realization washing over them. Most of them had been stationed at relatively safe home bases, their combat experience limited to routine guard duty. Parental complaints had often shielded them from being deployed to forward operating bases.
Ironically, some of the elites within the Royal Navy had actively sought to have their sons included in this particular operation, hoping to leverage their participation in the prestigious Enterprise Carrier Strike Group for political gain back home.
The intercom system onboard the amphibious assault ship blared to life, cutting through the tense atmosphere. "Operation will commence at 0100. All personnel report to their designated stations."
"Everyone! Get your asses on the ACVs, now!" Lucas barked, his earlier fury now channeled into urgent command.
"Move! Move! Move!"
The Union and Royal Army troops scrambled towards the rear hatches of the waiting ACVs. At the well-deck, Landing Craft Air Cushion (LCAC) Vehicles were being slowly loaded with M10A2 Booker Mobile Gun Platforms, ready to provide heavy firepower for the ground assault.
The M10A2 Booker Mobile Gun Platform, an upgraded version of its predecessor, boasted a 120mm smoothbore gun, streamlining ammunition logistics with compatibility with the M1A3 Abrams.
Notably, the M10A2s were currently being crewed by Manjuus. The limited timeframe of the operation had prevented adequate training for the Union and Royal Army personnel on these advanced vehicles.
Those personnel with basic driving skills were assigned to JLTVs and 6x6 MRAPs. The desert camouflage of these vehicles remained unchanged, deemed relevant to the anticipated terrain of their current operation.
Above them, F/A-18 Super Hornets, armed with AGM-88 HARM Anti-Radiation Missiles, streaked towards the Siren Weather Tower, the primary obstacle to the Fleet Carrier's crucial air support. With a series of violent explosions, the Siren Weather Tower began to crumble. The intricate antenna array responsible for generating the disruptive fog and storms tilted precariously before collapsing into the sea.
As the antenna vanished from atop the Weather Tower, an immediate shift occurred in the sky above. The oppressive clouds and thick fog that had obscured the sun began to dissipate, revealing a clear, azure expanse.
Illustrious gazed upwards, the sun's rays bathing the scene below in a golden light as the last vestiges of mist dissolved. She clasped her hands together, a silent prayer on her lips.
"May the light guide us to victory." A prayer for everyone's safety, and found light.
From the decks of the Carriers, Aircraft roared into the sky, laden with ground attack bombs. Simultaneously, the Battleships offshore swiveled their massive main guns towards the heavily fortified island. Fifteen-inch, Sixteen-inch, and Fourteen-inch shells rained down upon the Siren Base, a deafening prelude to the ground assault.
Queen Elizabeth watched the unfolding operation from the USS Enterprise CVN-80's Combat Information Center (CIC), her gaze fixed on the chaotic war displayed on the monitor screens.
"Where are the Executor-Class units?" she mused aloud, her brow furrowed. "They've always been deployed to counter invasions of this scale in the Southern Pacific."
"What do you mean, Your Majesty?" Enterprise-80 inquired, her curiosity piqued.
"Every time Azur Lane has launched an attack in this region, those Executor-Class Sirens have been the first line of defense," Queen Elizabeth explained.
"Don't worry, Your Majesty. I have a few tricks up my sleeve," Enterprise-80 replied with a confident smirk.
Queen Elizabeth, increasingly bewildered but also slightly amused by the Modern Kansen's slang, decided not to press the issue. She found herself, much to her own surprise, slowly absorbing their peculiar vernacular.
Cruiser Belfast, ever the observant attendant, couldn't suppress a small worry at Queen Elizabeth's gradual adoption of modern slang.
Siren Base
"Our cover is compromised! What do we do now?" Omitter exclaimed, watching as the sky cleared with the destruction of their Weather Tower.
"We face them as we always have, before this... Compiler arrived," Tester α stated, her voice betraying a deep distrust of Compiler's strategy of allowing Azur Lane ground troops to land.
"We 'face' them, huh?" Omitter mumbled, a hint of skepticism in her tone.
"If I fail... I want you and Observer α out of this base. Head directly to our main operational headquarters," Tester α commanded, her gaze fixed on some unseen point in the distance.
"Are you planning to die here?" Omitter asked, her voice laced with concern.
"No. I-I have a plan..." Tester α insisted, but a tremor in her voice and a flicker of fear in her eyes betrayed her forced bravado.
Omitter, a keen observer, noticed the subtle shift in Tester α's demeanor, the defiant mask cracking to reveal the frightened creature beneath, cornered by an unseen predator. "Don't die then..." she said softly, a plea rather than a command.
"I won't," Tester α replied, the words barely a whisper.
Omitter turned and left, heading deeper into the base, towards the reinforced bunker where Observer α was confined. The scene that greeted her was disturbing. The walls of the bunker were covered in bizarre, alien markings scrawled in what Omitter recognized with a shudder as Siren blood.
Observer α herself was a picture of utter disarray, her once-sleek black tentacles now regenerating unevenly, her hair a tangled mess. Her eyes darted around the room with unfocused intensity, muttering incoherently.
"Looks like I'll be stuck here with you for a while," Omitter said quietly, her voice tinged with a mixture of pity and resignation as she took in Observer α's broken ass state.
Above the Skies of Siren Base
F/A-18 Super Hornets screamed through the air, releasing BLU-118 Thermobaric Bombs upon hardened, fortified bunkers that overlooked the vulnerable amphibious landing zones.
Siren Minions below watched in stunned disbelief as one of their supposedly impenetrable bunkers, designed to withstand direct battleship fire, erupted in a cataclysmic explosion.
The subsequent shockwave ripped through the ground, throwing Siren personnel sprawling. Immediately, the base's anti-aircraft guns opened fire, a furious barrage aimed at the incoming Azur Lane aircraft.
F-35B Lightning II fighters, armed with GBU-39 Small Diameter Bombs accurately targeted the Siren AA gun emplacements. Buildings across the base were struck by devastating 2,000lb JDAM bombs, collapsing in plumes of smoke and debris.
Strategist Mark III units launched their own complement of Siren aircraft, attempting to intercept the incoming Azur Lane planes and the Modern Kansen. A fierce dogfight erupted in the skies above, the whine of jet engines and the whoosh of missiles filling the air as two distinct generations of aerial warfare clashed. Below, Siren Minions watched in grim fascination as some of Azur Lane's older propeller-driven aircraft were swiftly shot down by the Siren planes' advanced missile technology.
However, the F-35Bs and F/A-18 Super Hornets, with their superior maneuverability and advanced weaponry, were overwhelming the Siren fighters by a significant margin. Many of the intercepted Siren planes, crippled or destroyed, plummeted back towards the base, becoming fiery projectiles that further ravaged the Siren infrastructure.
Strategist Mark III units activated their personal energy shields as they were strafed by the lethal 20mm Vulcan cannons of the Azur Lane Aircraft. The high-velocity, depleted uranium rounds managed to crack one of the hexagonal shield patterns, grazing a Strategist Mark III in the right shoulder.
"Ahh... I've been hit!" the injured Executer-Class exclaimed, clutching her bruised shoulder.
"Deal with it! We need to keep them out of our airspace! Our ground troops will be overwhelmed by the humans if they have free reign above!" the lead Strategist Mark III unit commanded, launching more Siren planes in a desperate attempt to counter the relentless F-35Bs and F/A-18s.
Emboldened by their leader's words, the two Executor-Class Strategist Mark III units intensified their efforts, launching their own squadrons of interceptors.
"Right! Let's push them back!"
Sea near Siren Base
LHA-12 USS Essex and DDG-125 USS Lucas advanced towards the shore, escorted by the Cleveland-Class light cruisers USS Birmingham and USS Biloxi, joining their sisters in a formidable sortie.
Birmingham and Biloxi, mirroring their sisters' actions in the previous engagement against the Sakura Empire, were clad in Kevlar vests and helmets, armed with issued M27 IAR Rifles.
"Do you really have to wear this bulky vest into battle?" Birmingham grumbled, adjusting the ill-fitting straps of her body armor.
"You'll get used to it. This is just a safety precaution, for our own well-being," Cleveland replied reassuringly.
"Safety precaution? I thought he hated us! He's always yelling in our faces. How can he possibly be worried about our safety?" Birmingham retorted, a hint of disbelief in her voice.
"He's always like that. You'll get used to him. He's a good guy, deep down," Cruiser Denver offered, a knowing smile on her face.
"Yeah, he barks like a dog, but his caring like a puppy," Columbia added with a chuckle.
"I can't believe you all respect him so highly," Biloxi said, still new to Lucas's... unique personality.
"You'll see in this battle what I mean," Cleveland said with a confident smile.
Birmingham and Biloxi exchanged puzzled glances and shrugged.
USS Essex Well-deck
Essex-12 gave a final, encouraging address to the assembled Troops before they hit the landing beach.
"Alright, listen up! The first wave of the amphibious landing will focus on creating a secure pathway for our heavy armor to deploy. The second wave will be an aerial assault. Everyone in the Ospreys will follow Lucas and me as we storm the main Siren building and secure as much data as possible. Do you all understand?"
A silent chorus of nods indicated their understanding. "Prepare yourselves. This will be humanity's greatest triumph against the Sirens."
The well deck of the amphibious assault ship began to flood, the roar of the LCAC engines filling the cavernous space as their fan blades spun to life. The massive ramp door slowly lowered, revealing the vast expanse of the ocean. Two LCACs, each carrying Heavily Armored Vehicles, slowly hovered out into the water, leading the way.
They were followed by a steady stream of ACVs emerging from the Essex's well deck. Above, on the flight deck, V-22 Osprey Tiltrotor Aircraft began to lift off, carrying the second wave of the amphibious assault force.
As the troops were transported towards the landing beaches, Lucas and Essex-12 activated their formidable rigging, following closely behind the advancing Amphibious Vehicles.
The Cleveland Sisters provided a protective screen along the flanks of the entire landing force, guarding against any potential Siren counter-attacks from the sea.
Within minutes of setting sail, the LCACs and ACVs slammed onto the sandy beach of the fortified island.
The two lead LCACs deflated their skirts, allowing the M10A2 Booker Mobile Gun Platform and M4 Sherman tank to roll down their ramps onto the shore. The M10 Booker Assault Breacher Vehicle immediately launched a Mine Clearing Line Charge (MICLIC) towards the fortified walls of the Siren Base.
Siren minions huddled in the trenches watched in bewilderment as a line of white ropes, propelled by a rocket, snaked its way towards their position. They stared at the innocuous-looking rope, unaware that it was impregnated with 7,050 pounds of high-explosive C4 – affectionately known amongst some circles as "Uncle Sam's Sirius putty."
"What is this? A rope?" one of the Siren Minions exclaimed, his confusion evident.
A split second later, the fortified walls and the trenches around them erupted in a series of devastating explosions as the C4 detonated. Siren Minions were thrown into the air amidst a shower of dirt and debris, the protective barriers of the Siren Base now breached.
With a unified battle cry for humanity, the Union Army and Royal Army Troops surged forward, storming through the fallen walls. They were met with immediate and stiff resistance from the remaining Siren minions.
The two sides exchanged a furious barrage of gunfire. The M10s positioned themselves in front of the advancing Azur Lane troops, their 120mm Smoothbore Guns roaring as they fired M1147 Advanced Multi-Purpose (AMP) rounds at Siren Minions taking cover behind the ruined walls.
Lucas, with his expert marksmanship, began systematically picking off any Siren minion who dared to expose themselves in the rubble. Essex-12, meanwhile, unleashed a torrent of 40mm grenades from her MK-19 grenade launcher, the explosive rounds tearing through the Siren ranks.
"Eat grenades, bitches!" she yelled over the din of battle.
The Union and Royal Army Troops instinctively ducked as a volley of heavy artillery shells, fired from the Battleships offshore, screamed overhead.
"I'm never going to get used to this," one of the Royal troops muttered, his face pale.
"What do you mean?" a Union soldier asked, his weapon still trained on the enemy.
"Her! She's always shouting just like him!" the Royal trooper exclaimed, gesturing towards Essex-12.
"I know!" the Union soldier agreed, a wry smile on his face.
"Quit chatting, ladies! Return fire!" Lucas barked at the two soldiers.
"Yes, Sir!" they replied in unison, snapping back to attention.
ACVs rolled onto the beach, their GAU-19 Heavy Machine guns and MK-19 Grenade Launchers raining down a hail of lead and explosives on the entrenched Siren minions.
The Cleveland Sisters, advancing alongside the ground troops, returned fire with their issued rifles and the surprisingly potent MK16 Naval Guns mounted on their rigging. The firepower of the Clevelands alone was enough to significantly supplement the M4 Sherman and M10 Bookers, providing crucial mobile fire support for the advancing Union and Royal Army soldiers.
Siren Bunker
"Ma'am! The outer walls have fallen to the humans! What is our next course of action?" Explorer Mark III reported, her voice tight with urgency.
"Let them in," Tester α replied calmly, a strange glint in her eye.
"What?!" Explorer exclaimed, taken aback by the unexpected order.
"You heard me. Let them advance into the heart of the base. Arbiter: Strength VIII will personally handle these pesky humans," Tester α stated with an unsettling certainty.
"Yes, Ma'am," Explorer replied hesitantly, a sense of unease creeping into her voice.
Tester α thought to herself, "You truly underestimated them, Arbiter: Strength VIII. You will pay dearly for your arrogance."
~Back at the Fight~
Lucas moved with ruthless efficiency, pinning down an injured Siren Minion and firing a precise shot into its head without a trace of mercy. The Union and Royal Army troops were now advancing into the heart of the Siren Base, an eerie silence hanging in the air, broken only by the distant thunder of naval artillery and the closer sounds of small arms fire.
Lucas gave a subtle hand signal, and the troops cautiously took cover behind the thick pillars that lined the central area. The lack of any significant Siren counter-attack within the base itself felt deeply suspicious.
Unaware of the signal, one M4 Sherman tank continued to roll forward into the open central area. Lucas frantically radioed the lone tank.
"What are you doing out in the open? Return to the rear! Now!"
"Sir, there are no enemy units in this sector. We are moving to secure the central buildings," the Tank Commander radioed back, his voice confident.
Before Lucas could unleash a scathing reprimand, a massive figure plummeted from the sky above, landing with earth-shattering force directly onto the unsuspecting M4 Sherman tank. It was Arbiter: Strength VIII.
The impact was catastrophic. The thirty-ton tank crumpled like a tin can under the immense pressure. Lucas, along with the Union and Royal Army Troops, were thrown backwards by the violent shockwave and enveloped in a cloud of dust and debris.
The M10A2 Bookers immediately opened fire, their 120mm SABOT Rounds streaking towards the Arbiter. Arbiter: Strength VIII reacted with lightning speed, activating her Force- Field just as the rounds impacted. The force of the impact still sent her hurtling backwards, slamming into the nearest building.
Royal and Union Troops unleashed a furious volley of fire at the building where the Arbiter had crashed, grenades and rockets exploding against its structure. Lucas raised a fist, signaling for a cease-fire.
He glanced at Essex-12, a silent communication passing between them. He gave a subtle nod, conveying his intentions. Essex-12 nodded back in understanding, then turned and led the main body of the Royal and Union Army troops towards the imposing Siren Main building.
Lucas and the Cleveland Sisters remained to face Arbiter: Strength VIII. "Ladies, do you remember the battle plan I taught you?" Lucas asked, his voice calm amidst the chaos.
"Yes, Sir," the Cleveland Sisters replied in unison, their expressions determined.
"Good. Now, position yourselves."
Cleveland and Montpelier took up positions to provide covering fire, while Denver, Columbia, Birmingham, and Biloxi stealthily moved to find concealed sniping positions.
Arbiter: Strength VIII, enraged by the unexpected attack, unleashed a powerful blast of energy, obliterating the building she had been thrown into. She glared down, her eyes locking onto Lucas, who stood defiantly pointing his M27 IAR Rifle at her.
Without flinching, she opened fire with her twin turret plasma cannons, each barrel unleashing a blast of energy comparable to a Battleship's main gun caliber.
Lucas, Cleveland, and Montpelier dove for cover, narrowly avoiding the devastating attack. The building behind them, which had stood moments before, was instantly vaporized, leaving behind a patch of molten slag.
Lucas and the Cleveland Sisters returned fire in a coordinated barrage, pinning the Arbiter in the same exposed position where she had crushed the M4 Sherman.
"Is that the best you can muster... Azur Lane...?" Arbiter: Strength VIII's voice boomed, distorted by an alien resonance.
Lucas spoke a single, defiant word. "No."
Arbiter: Strength VIII let out a booming laugh, clearly amused by his apparent audacity. "Really now...?"
Lucas's eye remained fixed on the Acog scope of his rifle. "Yes."
"Is that so...? Then prepare yourselves, then..." Arbiter: Strength VIII began charging both of her twin turret plasma cannons to their maximum power, the air around them crackling with energy.
Before she could unleash the devastating blast, an object moving at hypersonic speed, far too fast for even modern radar to track effectively, slammed into her.
Arbiter: Strength VIII's perception of time seemed to slow to a crawl. She saw Lucas below, a grim smile playing on his lips. Her vision began to fade, the only thing she could discern was a blinding light streaking down from above, moving faster than anything she had ever witnessed.
At the point of impact, a colossal dust cloud, shaped like a grotesque mushroom, billowed into the sky. The entire Siren Base shuddered violently from the force of the strike, and everyone inside the Main Building felt the tremor. Essex-12 and the remaining Royal and Union troops instinctively ducked to avoid the falling debris.
"What...? What in God's name was that?" one of the Royal troops stammered, his face pale with shock.
Essex-12 smirked, a look of grim satisfaction on her face. "That... that is 'Freedom,' my friend."
The Royal and Union troops exchanged bewildered glances, utterly confused by her cryptic remark.
Lucas, Cleveland, and Montpelier quickly took cover behind a sturdy pillar, shielding themselves from the powerful gust of dust that swept outwards from the impact site.
"Gatcha, bitch!" Lucas exclaimed, a triumphant laugh escaping his lips.
The Cleveland Sisters joined in his laughter, relief and elation washing over them after their swift and decisive victory.
Arbiter: Strength VIII had been lured into the open by Lucas and the Cleveland Sisters, perfectly setting her up for a devastating attack that goes hypersonic speeds.
Miles away, Bunker Hill-76 stood on the ocean, the waves touches her heels, her Rigging active, she stood as silent sentinel awaiting orders. The comms crackled in her ears, Lucas's voice booming with urgency,
"Target in the open, send it now!"
Her gaze narrowed, her targeting systems locking onto the designated coordinates from afar. With a hiss of compressed air, the hinged doors of her Vertical Launch System (VLS) cells sprang open. The protective canister ruptured, and the pride and joy of the US Navy, a weapon system representing a hundred-million-dollar investment in potential destruction, shot skyward.
The sealed Prompt Strike Missile flew like a star injected with raw power, it ascended, seemingly defying the very limits of speed achievable in the era (1940s). The burgeoning light pierced the clouds, a spectacle of terrifying beauty for any who might have witnessed its ascent, unaware of the cataclysm it was destined to deliver.
High above the stratosphere, the booster stage detached, and the delivery vehicle began its terrifying descent. Plunging earthward at hypersonic velocities, it became a modern-day wrath of the heavens, striking down like a silent lightning bolt. The impact sent massive plumes of dust and debris erupting outwards, the entire island shuddering as if in the prelude to a volcanic upheaval.
Bunker Hill-76's devastating attack had come from the unseeing heights, a silent executioner delivering unimaginable force upon its target.
Arbiter: Strength VIII, for all her formidable defenses and heightened senses, had utterly failed to detect or evade the crushing spear hurtling down from the heavens. Her energy-based Force-Field, a barrier that had withstood countless attacks, shattered like fragile glass – feeling utterly insignificant against the sheer magnitude of this unseen assault.
It was a mere flash of searing light – followed by an instantaneous, deafening boom. Then, nothing. Just a void, all sense of being abruptly extinguished, the striking light from above the final image imprinted on what was once her perception of existence.
As the dust finally settled, the gruesome aftermath of the strike became starkly apparent. Fragmented chunks of the Arbiter's body and twisted remnants of her advanced Rigging lay scattered across the impact zone. Siren blood, an unnatural yellow in this instance, stained the churned earth, while the mangled remains of the M4 Sherman tank served as a grim monument to both the Arbiter's overwhelming power and her unforeseen, utter annihilation.