"They're breeding with human males."
"Unfortunately... yes, Ma'am," William confirmed, trying to suppress the horrifying implications of his discovery.
"How? You stated that Sirens are incapable of reproducing themselves due to their infertile nature," Bunker Hill-76 said, her voice laced with disbelief.
William interjected, "That was regarding Elite-Sirens. We are discussing Siren-Minions. I believe they were bred for the purpose of labor."
"Then why are we only discovering this now? We meticulously reviewed all the records in the Library concerning the Sirens. We found no mention of Siren-Minions," Enterprise-80 said, still struggling to accept the information.
"Okay... let's momentarily disregard their supposed infertility. Now, what is your explanation for this...?" Enterprise-80 gestured towards the file in her hand.
Gears turns in William's mind as he formulated an explanation. "According to my recent findings, Sirens possess extremely low fertility, but they are not entirely infertile. It is simply that their reproductive capability is significantly reduced. The only plausible method for them to breed with human males is through the intermediary of their Siren Minions."
Bunker Hill-76 cut in, her expression grim. "So they are utilizing 'captured' male humans as their sperm banks?"
William found it difficult to voice the abhorrent truth. "Yes. In short, they are being used in that manner."
"I believe everyone should be made aware of this. This information is crucial for all of us to know," Enterprise-80 stated, her voice firm.
Bunker Hill-76 rested her chin in her hand, deep in thought. "Recalling when we questioned Adm. Nimitz and Yorktown about this previously? They remained silent, as if deliberately avoiding the topic."
William added, "Ma'am... I suspect Adm. Nimitz and Yorktown may have already possessed some knowledge of this."
Enterprise-80's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as she grappled with this disturbing revelation. She had anticipated that the Sirens were capable of unimaginable horrors, far beyond the comprehension of human conscience. However, the notion of using human lives as their breeding stock was beyond anything she had conceived.
It took her a moment to compose herself and formulate a plan of action to address this appalling situation. She took a deep breath and turned to face William.
"William... I grant you full permission to delve as deeply as necessary into this matter. I am lifting any restrictions imposed by the Scientific Community regarding any form of experimentation related to this. Employ any means required to uncover the Sirens' secrets. That is an order."
"Ye-Yes Ma'am," William responded, sensing a chilling shift in Enterprise-80's demeanor. He had not anticipated her rescinding the ethical boundaries on life experimentation that had been established by the Scientific Community back on Earth.
Bunker Hill-76 placed a comforting hand on Enterprise-80's shoulder, also sensing her friend's altered state. "Ma'am... do not allow anger to cloud your judgment. We will retaliate against this Siren menace with the full force of the weaponry humanity created to destroy itself. We simply need to remain calm."
Enterprise-80 understood the catastrophic implications of unleashing the power of the sun against an enemy, even one as vile as the Sirens. Succumbing to her rage could render vast swathes of the world uninhabitable for decades, if not centuries.
"I know, Bunker Hill, I know..." she said, letting out a heavy sigh, the weight of this new burden adding to the existing problems in her mind.
"For now... let us keep this a secret." She returned the files to William. "I want this information concealed until we have a more solid understanding of our discovery."
"Right."
As they concluded their discussion and slowly walked towards the Main Building, they heard the distinctive roar of a modified hotrod approaching. They turned to see their Heavy Modified Hotrod, with Frigate Belfast at the wheel.
"How was your date?" Enterprise-80 asked as the hotrod screeched to a halt in front of them.
Frigate Belfast let out a long, exasperated sigh. "That fellow was incredibly persistent. He constantly interjected playful and utterly ridiculous remarks into the conversation," she said, her disappointment evident.
"Perhaps you should bring Bunker Hill along next time if you wish to deter a suitor," Enterprise-80 suggested dryly.
"Nah. I am quite adept at rejecting them myself," Frigate Belfast retorted with a confident smirk.
William spoke up, his tone curious. "So, the rumors are true, about Bunker Hill-76 having rejected two-thirds of the Naval Commanders at the Base?"
Bunker Hill-76 let out a weary sigh, the memories of those awkward encounters flooding back. They were the typical hopefuls, their attempts at courtship resembling a group of high-schoolers nervously confessing their crushes.
"Pathetic," was the only word she could muster to describe them, as she had rejected them all, mercilessly. "What about you and your... Teachers?"
"Wait! I have mail?" William exclaimed in genuine surprise, the thought of correspondence from his Female teacher admirers completely unexpected.
"Wait. How is it that you were unaware of this?" Frigate Belfast asked, as she was usually the one who collected the mail.
William pondered for a moment, racking his brain. Then, a flicker of realization crossed his face. "Ah, yes, I recall now..."
"You recall what?"
"I instructed a group of my Manjuus to only retrieve the important mail, specifically those pertaining to scientific matters. They must have discarded those Teacher's letters, deeming them insignificant."
"You have got to be kidding me," the three women exclaimed in unison, their surprise evident. He was so engrossed in his scientific endeavors that he had completely forgotten about the letters from his admirers.
William, oblivious to their astonishment, simply shrugged, as if the letters held no importance whatsoever. "Anyway... we still need to attend the meeting," he said, redirecting the conversation.
"Alright, let's head inside. Everyone is waiting," Enterprise-80 said, leading the way.
~At the meeting room~
Queen Elizabeth greeted Enterprise-80 and her escort as they entered the room, which was filled with Commanders and their Flagship Shipgirls.
"It is good to see that you have arrived in time, Miss Enterprise."
"There is no need for such formality, Your Majesty. We are aware that we are somewhat late for the meeting," Enterprise-80 replied.
"Actually... we were just about to commence," Adm. Nimitz said, unrolling a detailed map of Madagascar, with a specific area of the African Sub-Continent circled. The circles indicated the location of a hidden Siren Base.
He then produced an envelope containing high-resolution photographs taken by Arizona, Sheffield, and Minneapolis along with Teams of Manjuus during their recent reconnaissance mission in the African Sub-Continent.
The Commanders each took a photograph, their eyes analyzing the sophisticated defensive layout that the Sirens had established at their newly fortified base.
Cmdr. Elena spoke, her tone concerned. "This is far more sophisticated and powerful than the defenses we encountered in the Southern Pacific."
"I believe Sir William can provide some insight into that," Adm. Nimitz said, prompting everyone to look towards the man in the lab coat and captain's cap.
William took out a cigar, preparing to offer his explanation, but he was interrupted by one of the Royal Maids, Edinburgh, who stood beside him, holding out an ashtray, motioning for him to extinguish the smoke.
"Her Majesty does not permit smoking in the room," she said, her voice slightly trembling under William's annoyed gaze.
William looked from the Maid to the Queen, who sat with her Corgi, and then back to Edinburgh. He sighed, reluctantly putting out his cigar and placing it in the ashtray.
As soon as Edinburgh moved away to dispose of the ashtray, William immediately pulled out a fresh cigar, lit it, and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke.
Everyone in the room was dumbfounded by his blatant disregard for protocol. He had openly defied the Queen's no-smoking rule, thoroughly embarrassed a Royal Maid, and was now smoking directly in front of the shocked monarch.
William met the Queen's gaze, attempting to convey a silent message. "Try to stop me from smoking, and I'll smoke you."
"Preposterous!" Queen Elizabeth exclaimed, her authority as the head of the Royal Navy being openly flouted.
Warspite gently restrained her Queen, preventing her from erupting in a tantrum in the middle of the meeting room. "Your Majesty, please compose yourself. Do not allow such a minor insult to get the better of you."
Enterprise-80 spoke, her tone dismissive. "Just let him be. I have authorized him to do whatever is necessary to accomplish his tasks."
William took another puff of his cigar and began to explain the various Siren defense emplacements. "Ladies and Gentlemen," he said, glancing around to ensure he had everyone's attention.
He continued, "What you are observing are high-powered anti-air defenses primarily designed to engage high-altitude Fighters and Bombers, as evidenced by the length of their barrels."
Cmdr. Elena raised her hand. "Umm... excuse me, Doctor?"
William removed his cigar from his mouth and pointed it at her. "Alright, what is it?"
"How can you be certain that those weapons are specifically designed for an Anti-Air role?"
"Okay... go on," William said, intrigued by her question.
"Well... my Flagship, New Jersey, and I encountered similar weaponry in use in the Southern Pacific before the planned invasion even commenced."
"Huh, interesting. Anything else?"
"Yes. We initially assumed they were Anti-Air defenses when we dispatched reconnaissance planes to confirm. However, those weapons suddenly realigned their firing arcs towards our position. Before we could fully react, one of our Escort Cruisers sustained a direct hit to its rear Main Turret. Thankfully, there was no magazine explosion."
"A multipurpose cannon, huh?" William muttered thoughtfully. "Thank you for providing this crucial information, Commander."
"I am glad to be of assistance, Doctor," Cmdr. Elena replied with a smile.
New Jersey, observing her Commander's unusually polite demeanor towards the older man, muttered under her breath, "What the hell is wrong with you, Commander?"
"Alright, change of plans..." William announced, drawing everyone's attention. "We need to prioritize the destruction of these defenses before we deploy any troops to the Siren Base."
"How? Naval Artillery and Aerial Bombardment are not viable options," Cmdr. Aldrin interjected.
William sighed, rubbing his temples in exasperation. "Dude. We have Missiles, for fuck's sake."
"Ohh..." Cmdr. Aldrin's face registered dawning comprehension. "My bad, I am still acclimating to this Modern Warfare thing."
Enterprise-80 leaned towards Adm. Nimitz and asked, "Is he fresh out of the Azur Lane Navy Academy?"
Adm. Nimitz replied, "No. He is a highly capable Commander who was stationed in the North Sea. He is an expert in Naval Gunnery and Aerial Warfare against Iron Blood and the Sirens lurking in the North Atlantic, but..."
"But what?" Enterprise-80 pressed.
Adm. Nimitz searched for the right words to avoid causing offense. "He has a slight... tendency to frequent the red-light district. He is frequently in the news because of it."
Frigate Belfast overheard their conversation and muttered, "Good thing I rejected him."
"Good for you," Enterprise-80 replied dryly.
"I truly despise his presence here," Adm. Philips grumbled, recalling the numerous calls he had received regarding one of his Commanding Officers' escapades in the red-light district.
The worst part, in his opinion, was that the Azur Lane Higher-Ups believed that involving the Press and Journalists would generate positive news for the Alliance. Little did they know that Azur Lane Main Base, Pearl Harbor, was teeming with eccentrics and outright lunatics.
And the Press and Journalists were constantly on the lookout for scandalous scoops and sensational stories. Most of the news revolved around the exaggerated relationship between Lucas and JS Maya. A rarer, but equally popular, topic was the Bunny Girl who had sent numerous 'low-tier' perverts in the Base infirmary with broken bones, shattered faces, and crushed spirits.
Cmdr. Aldrin glanced around the room, his eyes lingering on the two Belfasts. He had hoped to catch a glimpse of the other Modern Kansens. He was disappointed to find that they were not present, instead encountering the two notoriously unapproachable women.
His intuition told him that pursuing Enterprise-80 and Bunker Hill-76 would be akin to facing the final bosses in his personal harem-building aspirations. The looks they were currently giving him suggested that they were more likely to make his body holier than the Pope, with extreme prejudice involving bullets.
He quickly abandoned any thoughts of pursuing those two, having heard enough rumors about their merciless efficiency on the battlefield. If he inadvertently incurred their wrath, he would likely be reduced to a fine mist.
"Are you alright, Commander? You seem to be deep in thought of some sort," Howe asked, noticing her Commanding Officer's unresponsiveness.
"Oh... it was nothing. I was merely contemplating the next operation," he stammered.
Wales spoke, her voice knowing. "Cmdr. Aldrin, I know you have been thinking about your dream Harem."
Cmdr. Aldrin began to sweat profusely, as if caught red-handed. "Huh, me? Thinking about that in the middle of a meeting? No way."
"Commander, you have been staring at Miss Enterprise and Miss Bunker Hill for the past minute. Did you truly believe I wouldn't notice?"
Prince of Wales had been tasked by Adm. Philips to keep a close eye on their resident idiot. The Eagle Union Journalists had embraced the freedom of the Press to such an extent that they would stop at nothing for a sensational story.
Cmdr. Aldrin sighed in defeat, knowing that Wales was often strict when it came to Royal Navy Rules and Regulations. "Yes, you have me. I was considering adding them, but... I have just realized... I am merely a small fish in the presence of these 'Big' Hawks."
Wales nodded in agreement, relieved that his lecherous thoughts had not extended to these two Modern Kansens. They might possess beauty, but they were forged in a world where war was far more brutal than their own. They had been trained and drilled to eliminate their enemies without hesitation, making his casual flirting unthinkable. Many had tried, and all had failed spectacularly.
"It is wise that you have thought it through, Commander," Wales said, a hint of approval in her tone.
"By the way... who is currently managing your Shop, Howe?" Cmdr. Aldrin asked, changing the subject.
Howe smiled confidently. "I have my two best employees taking excellent care of it."
"Aizen and Lucas," Wales uttered, the names rolling off her tongue.
"Aizen and Lucas?" Cmdr. Aldrin asked, his curiosity piqued.
"Yes. Lucas and Aizen (Arizona)," she confirmed, a subtle undercurrent of concern in her voice regarding the potential exposure of Arizona's true identity.
Enterprise-80 had strictly instructed those privy to Arizona's real identity to remain silent or to refer to him solely by his chosen alias, 'Aizen.' While she personally found- but hey it was the guy's name pick. Maintaining his anonymity was paramount due to his specialized espionage capabilities. Should the press or any media outlet uncover his true identity, it could have disastrous consequences for his upcoming missions.
Cmdr. Aldrin harbored a slight suspicion regarding Howe's unusual choice of employees. While Lucas being a Modern Kansen made sense in terms of reliability and strength, this 'Aizen' exuded an air of mystery that went beyond his ominous-sounding name. He possessed an undeniable charm that seemed to captivate the girls, and remarkably, his mere presence and gaze were enough to keep Ark Royal at bay – a feat no one else at the Base had managed when it came to the Destroyers.
"Who is he?" he muttered to himself, the question echoing the enigma surrounding the man.
Howe's Cookie Shop
Inside the quaint shop, the two unlikely employees stood rigidly at attention, awaiting the arrival of customers. Each tick of the grandfather clock in the corner felt like a countdown to the inevitable erosion of their already dwindling concentration. Yes, they could maintain the posture, but the agonizingly long period without a single customer was bordering on unbearable.
"Perhaps I should have pursued the Security Guard option," Lucas muttered under his breath, his lips pressed into a thin, tight line.
"Maintain your composure. We are not quite there yet," Arizona countered, his tone even.
"I am currently facing the most formidable adversary known since the dawn of humanity, and now the Marines. This... is torture," Lucas declared dramatically, his voice laced with theatrical suffering.
"We are not dying... we are merely bored," Arizona corrected, his pragmatism unwavering.
"It can be both," Lucas insisted with a sigh.
Just as the relentless passage of time began to feel like a slow, agonizing decay, the hanging bell above the door *Clanged*, a sound akin to the chime of salvation gracing their weary ears.
They both subtly adjusted their posture, then offered a synchronized greeting to the entering customers, their chests puffed out and their feet spread in practiced attention.
"Welcome to Miss Howe's Cookie Shop, dear Customers," the two greeted in professional unison.
The customers who entered were none other than the Queen herself, accompanied by her escorts and Lady of the House. The initial greeting was met with warm appreciation, as if they had stepped into a place of genuine hospitality. However, as soon as their gazes landed upon the two employees, their earlier admiration quickly dissipated.
Queen Elizabeth's eyebrows shot up in surprise upon seeing the two, particularly Arizona. She was utterly perplexed as to why he was even working here. Enterprise-80 had assured her that he was undercover – yet here he stood, dressed in a simple employee's apron and a polite smile. This was hardly the image she had conjured of the man with the cold demeanor and piercing gaze she had briefly encountered.
"Oh great... Royalty...." Lucas muttered under his breath, his expression utterly devoid of enthusiasm.
"Judging by your face, it seems Royalty is a common sight for you," Arizona observed, noting the palpable shift in Lucas's demeanor.
A majestic voice, belonging to Illustrious, filled the shop. "My... quite a greeting you have... I was expecting something from the two of you," she commented, her tone casual yet undeniably elegant.
"Um... Thanks..." Lucas mumbled, feeling increasingly weary of being surrounded by British individuals after his recent days working at Howe's Cookie Shop.
-Quite a true horror for the Americans-
"I deeply appreciate your kind words, Miss Illustrious," Arizona said, his tone and posture embodying that of a true gentleman.
"My... thank you," Illustrious returned graciously.
However, the subtly tense atmosphere suddenly shattered like fragile glass under immense pressure and abrupt force.
"Ahem." Queen Elizabeth scoffed, the sound not overly loud but perfectly audible to the two employees. A collective groan, barely perceptible, escaped both of them.
"What is the meaning of this disguise? I have heard that you were undercover and currently occupied, and yet here you are, dressed as an employee," her voice resonated with regal authority.
"Your Majesty, I am undercover...." Arizona gestured to his attire with a flourish. "I am Aizen, the Shop Employee," he stated with a suggestive, wavy eyebrow.
"I am not convinced," Queen Elizabeth replied matter-of-factly. While his appearance might suggest a simple employee, his eyes and senses were clearly alert, constantly observing their surroundings.
"I acknowledge your concern, Your Majesty. Now then, how may I provide you with the finest services of Miss Howe's Cookie Shop?" Arizona inquired, his tone reminiscent of a commercial advertisement enthusiastically persuading its target audience.
Lucas leaned closer to Arizona and whispered, "Nice diversion. It will take at least a minute before I can even convince her to choose something from the chiller display."
Lucas really took him a minute or more to just divert the conversation back to her goals of picking delights.
Queen Elizabeth's frown remained etched on her face as she stood before the two, her regal authority seemingly failing to elicit the expected deference. To Arizona and Lucas, she was a familiar figure of authority within the base, not a monarch wielding true, absolute power.
"Your Majesty, perhaps we should proceed with our true intention and not become sidetracked by the antics of these two," Warspite suggested, her tone pragmatic.
"Your Majesty, Miss Warspite is correct. Perhaps we should focus on the purpose of our visit," Illustrious added with her gentle smile. "We are straying from our objective."
Queen Elizabeth sighed, a hint of reluctant agreement in her expression, and nodded to her subordinates. "Arg... I suppose we must." She straightened her posture and then squinted at the chiller display, scanning for any palatable sweets that weren't excessively sugary.
Warspite and Illustrious also leaned in, assisting the Queen in her selection as if the fate of the realm depended on her choice of confectionary.
Arizona and Lucas, adopting the helpful demeanor of retail employees, also offered assistance and advice, carefully pointing out which cookies were lower in sugar and healthier for the young monarch. Like enthusiastic Walmart employees in a high-end dealership, both meticulously explained the ingredients and precise cooking temperatures of each cookie.
"I trust Your Majesty finds these less sugary options to your liking?" Arizona inquired, observing the monarch's selection of sweets.
Lucas leaned in, eager to hear the Queen's assessment of their service. Her admission and commentary would be valuable.
Queen Elizabeth struggled to mask her true feelings. A faint blush crept up her cheeks, betraying her reluctance to openly acknowledge any merit in their service. Her pouting lips and low grumble indicated a battle with her pride.
"She's having a hard time admitting it," Lucas whispered to Arizona.
"Nah, give her time... during my time in the Royal Navy, she would eventually soften up and offer her genuine opinion of our efforts," Arizona countered confidently.
Lucas glanced at him skeptically and whispered back, "I doubt that. She won't admit it."
"Bet?" Arizona challenged, a glint in his eye.
"Bet," Lucas agreed, a small smirk playing on his lips.
The two had placed a wager on whether the Queen would concede that their shop service was commendable. They also harbored a secret hope that a positive review from the monarch might translate into a much-needed raise.
Queen Elizabeth raised her head, her gaze meeting theirs. She slowly opened her mouth, having taken a moment to compose herself. She was determined not to readily admit that the service at Howe's Cookie Shop was exceptional; she would draw it out.
"Well... based on my observation and the performance I have witnessed from both of you, I would say...."
The two held their breath, awaiting her verdict.
"Meager," she declared, her pride firmly intact.
'Oh, Come-on!' the inner thoughts of the two collided.
The efforts of the two fell short at the Royalty's taste, they strip down themselves into a Walmart Employee to explain at the young monarch about the breakdown of each sweets, yet they have meager review.
"She didn't even acknowledge our patient breakdown of the ingredients," Lucas muttered in disappointment. "But hey, I won."
It is still a win for Lucas non the less.
"God damn it," Arizona cursed under his breath. He reached for his wallet and handed Lucas the agreed-upon sum. "I guess she's still as salty as a biscuit."
Lucas took the Benjamin bills and held them up to the light, scrutinizing them for any imperfections. "Yup, genuine Benjamins," he said with a sigh of relief.
"Why would I even give you a fake one? I'm not permitted to use counterfeits off duty," Arizona retorted.
The Royal Navy Shipgirls, along with the Queen, were taken aback by the casual exchange between the two employees. They were surprised by the audacity of their wager concerning the Queen's opinion. She was mouth gapped at the bluntness of their wager of her.
"What is the meaning of this! Did the two of you just place a bet on me?!" Queen Elizabeth exclaimed, her surprise tinged with indignation at their boldness.
"It appears they did, Your Majesty. They wagered on whether you would appreciate their services – a sentiment with which I quite agree," Illustrious mused, a thoughtful expression on her face.
"How insulting." Warspite said.
"Do they have to really do that?" Queen Elizabeth mused, clearly not amused by the two's antics.
"My apologies, Your Majesty, but this is simply how things operate for the two of us here," Arizona said with sincere politeness. "We are, shall we say, experiencing a certain lack of stimulating activity."
"Considering the reports of the two of you causing trouble with the Rookie Commanders, this behavior is hardly surprising," Warspite commented dryly, her gaze fixed on Lucas.
"Indeed," Queen Elizabeth murmured flatly.
"Hey! Those bastards couldn't keep their hands off things they shouldn't have. We couldn't very well stand by and do nothing," Lucas retorted with a smug smirk.
"Our methods may not be as... gentlemanly as the Royalties might prefer, but a well-placed fist to the face can be a remarkably effective call to attention for certain... individuals," Arizona added with a hint of a wry smile.
"Men only truly speak and act with their fists when dealing with other men. It's a common language," Lucas elaborated.
"You two are insufferable," Queen Elizabeth stated flatly.
Men, even manifested as Kansens, often resorted to the primal language of fists when dealing with other men, a form of communication that often perplexed some and utterly bewildered others. These two were clearly attempting to provoke a reaction while maintaining an air of nonchalance, their interactions resembling the tense stand-offs of their old world.
The concept of a 'Cold War' wasn't entirely inapplicable to their behavior of subtle intimidation. Lucas seemed to be an active participant, his instincts almost autonomously seeking to intervene in perceived injustices. Arizona, on the other hand, acted as a more reserved observer, ready to step in only when his direct assistance was required.
The combination of their personalities was undeniably chaotic, and their mere presence together often spelled trouble. Yet, despite the underlying tension, they refrained from an outright brawl within Howe's Cookie Shop. Instead, Her Majesty found herself facing the two individuals who were subtly pushing her to the very edge of her royal patience.
She sighed, realizing the futility of attempting to alter their peculiar dynamic. "As long as the two of you refrain from engaging in any actual physical altercations... I suppose this is preferable to the stack of complaint papers regarding you two, and you." She directed her gaze pointedly at Arizona.
Arizona, during his previous undercover assignment as a disguised Royal Navy Officer tasked with rooting out a mole, had certainly generated his fair share of paperwork.
"Too much pain," she murmured, a knowing recollection in her eyes.
Arizona's lips tightened, recalling that period. He had witnessed her exhaustion firsthand, the dark circles under her eyes and the stray curls escaping her usually impeccable hairstyle. "Well... at least it wasn't Miss Warspite generating all those papers," he said dryly.
Queen Elizabeth grumbled at his remark, while Warspite felt a conflicting mix of insult and relief. Illustrious, however, couldn't suppress a delicate giggle at the awkwardness of the situation.
Lucas leaned closer to Arizona and whispered, "What do you mean by that?"
Arizona whispered back, "Warspite often handled Her Majesty's paperwork, and I distinctly remember a few occasions where she looked utterly drained with a relatively small stack of documents on her desk... and half of it pertained to my... activities."
Lucas chuckled softly. "Ah, yes. She certainly bore the brunt of the Nuclear Submarine's capabilities and all its associated 'issues'."
Having a Nuclear Submarine under one's administrative purview undoubtedly came with its own set of unique challenges, and with Arizona's involvement, Queen Elizabeth had likely been subjected to the same recurring complaints, akin to a song stuck on an endless loop.
"I... I..." Queen Elizabeth stammered, her composure visibly shaken. "I cannot believe the two of you."
With a swift turn, her golden curls swaying dramatically, she marched towards the door, her steps deliberate and heavy with indignation. Her escort Corgi followed closely, matching her rapid pace.
"Oh dear... here she goes again," Illustrious murmured, watching the Queen's hasty retreat. She turned back to Arizona and Lucas, offering a polite farewell.
"I thank you for your services. I apologize for the Queen's... willfulness," she said sincerely. "As for my own opinion, I found your service to be quite good. It would have taken us considerably longer to make Her Majesty's selections without your detailed explanations and suggestions."
The two absorbed her kind words, feeling a warmth and sincerity that resonated deeply. Illustrious was known for her gentle and considerate nature.
"Farewell, gentlemen. I must take my leave," she said before exiting the confines of the shop.
The bell above the door *clanged* as it opened and closed, leaving a moment of silence that was soon shattered by the booming voices of Arizona and Lucas.
"YEAH!"
Both men executed a resounding high-five, the sharp clap of their palms echoing through the shop, followed by their triumphant roar.
"We did it!" Lucas exclaimed, a wide grin spreading across his face.
"Yes, we did!" Arizona echoed.
"Woah... I can't believe it actually came from her," Lucas marveled, still processing Illustrious's positive feedback.
"We finally received our well-deserved recognition," Arizona said, mirroring Lucas's overjoyed tone.
Like children who had just received long-awaited praise, the two grown men erupted in boisterous cheers. The monotony of their earlier, rigidly maintained attentiveness, which had felt like hours of torture, was instantly washed away by this validation.
*Clang* went the bell as the door opened once more. To their surprise, Lafayette and Friends entered, abruptly cutting short their celebratory mood like a hot knife through butter.
An awkward silence descended upon the shop.
"Well.... That was awkward...." Lucas said, his voice trailing off.
"So. What can we do for you?" Arizona inquired, regaining his composure.
Lafayette, looking tired and utterly lacking in enthusiasm, got straight to the point of his visit, asking about a particular sweet he couldn't quite describe.
"Do you have any sweet like... sweet?" he asked, shrugging helplessly, clearly confused by his own request.
"Sweet like sweet?" the two echoed in unison, mirroring Lafayette's bewilderment.
"It was Laffey's order, okay? I don't know the details. Just don't ask; I don't know it either. She just gave me instructions for sweets... a sugary sweet."
"YOU ARE CONFUSING ME, FRENCH-MAN," Lucas said, cutting off his own frustrated muttering.
Lafayette winced, expecting any insult but that one came out of nowhere. "What?"
"If it were a liquor, I would at least understand her needs, but a sweet? What hocus pocus is that!" Arizona exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
Lafayette simply shrugged again. "I don't know. She's been acting odd lately. She's been in her quarters all day."
"That's hardly unusual. She rarely leaves her quarters, except for sorties and the occasional need to replenish herself with alcohol" Arizona pointed out.
"Not this time, though," Lafayette insisted, a hint of something unusual in his tone.
The two employees exchanged curious glances. Laffey-200 acting strangely was indeed out of the ordinary. What transformation awaited them tomorrow, would it be a mind-boggling change that even DARPA would struggle to comprehend, or simply the peculiar whim of a singular mind of a man. Only time would tell.