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Rita Ma	Right out of the artificial warpgate, the atmosphere is suffocatingly tense. Harpoonists are packed onto the Union Busan's deck but none of them breathe a word. Sea Monkey, the one in the full-body suit, stands in the shade near the garden dome and checks their gun over and over. Brune and Sonia stand silently together facing the ocean, his arm around her shoulders- one last moment of tenderness.      A hundred feet from the Union Busan, to the left and right, are Floating City New York's New Jersey and Manhattan: the former a cargo ship refitted into a bulky troop carrier, the latter a relic of the US Navy with a few guns and missiles left and Clark Miller at the bow. Smaller than those are Union Benin's mid-sized ships at the flanks, mostly just vehicles for the brightly-clad harpoonists within, and a few deck guns if they're lucky.      And smaller still are the meager fishing boats of former Akroma and Port Oasis, carrying fatalistic harpoonists with electric mines at the fore and terribly undergunned villagers at the rear. Fielding boats like that at all, barely bigger than a single sea monster, feels like a terrible admission. Putting some at the front feels even worse.      Everyone here, after all, is "dead until proven otherwise".
Rita Ma	That isn't where Bota and Kana (both in their 'new', more flowing battle dress over the casual clothes of Trash Island) are looking, of course. A thousand feet ahead is a different formation.      Rita, unfurled, is perched on the Tarrasque's back- a vast spike-studded sea-turtle-like thing, still with unhealed wounds from its prior battle. On one side of her is the rounded, scarred, silvery hump of something others might remember as the ghoulish Semitone monster. On the other, an orange blob with strangely mechanical protrusions churns the water.      A procession of dozens of metallic shark fins advance ahead of them, and a tiny menacing speck orbits just over her shoulder. A half-dozen "little" space whales circle far overhead, like friendlier vultures; a black goldfish and a white goldfish orbit below them, swimming through the air.      "-to us when she's ready."      "Doesn't she know it might be our last chance?"      "Bota, I think that's why."      "Mmm. I still don't feel good about her being in front."      "It's not as if we could catch up to her."      Past her, on the horizon, is what could be mistaken for land. Really, it's just the ocean frothing with millions of bodies even in broad daylight, stretching from left to right as far as the eye can see. Kana had said, before, that there's no point trying to thin their numbers- only in ramming through to the objective. It might've hard to visualize what that actually means until now.      Your arrival turns heads, but Kana's the first one to speak and approach. "Just a minute or two, now. If you can protect the other ships, do, but in the end they're all expendable. The Union Busan will deploy its bombs when we're directly above the nest."
Angela	Lobotomy Corp has provided two Abnormalities for this venture to assist Rita. One of them doesn't have a name and is in fact two Abnormalities combined, the Abnormalities Yin and Yang.They take the form of two Koi-style fishies on their own but they combine into a great Celestial Serpent. It will be a great day for it no matter how events proceed because it'll get to swim through the sea and soar through the sky (they don't seem to have combined yet!). Rita Ma has already eaten its meat so its ready to obey her commands. The other one, also a WAW Abnormality, may be a bit more interesting. Also similarly bound to Rita Ma, it is a strange creature--like a shark that someone tried to draw without ever seeing a shark before It has two black eyes practically dripping down the side of its face and two big mouths with countless teeth comparable to even Leviathans with multicolored tongues dangling out of it. Its gray body ends in two legs but despite having legs--it doesn't seem like it has any trouble swimming. There are numerous puncture wounds in its hide that look like haphazardly placed injection sites with blood already pouring out into the sea around it--it's showing up 'wounded' as 'wounded' is its base nature. One syringe remains embedded in its body, filled with clearish pink fluid and jammed into its back. Yaaay! The ocean is so big! Wow! Do you think I'll get to see a REAL SHARK? He says--Rita knows that it's actually a He. He sounds like an excited boy to her. I've never seen a real shark before... My mommy and daddy left me behind in a facility but all the people there were really nice and kept giving me candy. Are you my new mommy? A pause, a happy splash in the water. Would you like some candy, mommy? I don't mind sharing! He splashes more in the water. He's having the time of his life too. Abnormality could have provided enough Abnormalities today to cause extra Ecological Problems but elected to stick to the two most suited.
Angela	There's not just Abnormalities that are present. Nonon and Shajo are here as the backbone of the Disciplinary department but there's also newer Agents Max and Ceri as well as Tweed. Less is known about them but they are here to support their fellow Agents. Tweed is carrying a rifle with ...teeth along the topside of it (Hornet), Ceri is a pink haired woman wielding Sanguine Desire Ego Gear, a former Fixer of the Cinq Association. Max wields big fluffy Bear Paws as HIS Ego Weaponry and he seems to be firmly attached to Ceri and a bit of a Fixer fanboy. Lobotomy Corp is pulling few punches on this mission. Clark Miller is someone both Nonon and Shajo despise but together they are on the same side and they aren't the kind of people to betray someone on their own side. They hope he'll focus on the current Queen before worrying about Rita. Nonon even more than Shajo. Shajo is carrying the Angela and Gebura (they're sharing today) video pads. Gebura seems stern, Angela looks as calm as ever (she isn't). Shajo looks to Bota, "Hey," He says to him. "She'll be fine. I won't tell you not to worry, but you can trust her. The best thing you can do for her is to fight your hardest so she can fight less." He manages an awkward smile, "We will be." Nonon nods to Kana and then turns to face Disciplinary. "YO YOU LOT! We protect the Busan, Rita if she needs it! We get this done and we can claim we felled something bigger than any of the Five Calamities! Rest assured whatever happens, your name will be whispered in awe by seamen across the Multiverse. But don't fight for that! Fight because you'll get Paid Time Off if you make it back! And that's way more important than being a Legend, GA HA HA HA!" Nonon punches her fist into her gauntlet. She's prepared as best she can. She's settled her regrets and made her promises. All she can do now is dive into Armageddon and hold her determination Steadfast. Watch over us, She thinks. This is for you as much as it is for them. Gebura crosses her arms silently.
Combaticon	Something cracks the skies above Union Buson that those on the ship might have never seen in their lifetimes; a jet fighter, sleekly gray and purple, soars overhead at high speed, banking above the ship formation in a lazy turn that shows its wings and the Decepticon insignia emblazoned upon them.     "This doesn't look good at all, boss," Blastoff notes to his passengers, "Are they meaning to fight a war with a force like this?"     "It is not a war in the traditional sense," Onslaught notes, his silhouette cast in shades of red within the jet's cockpit. His hands are not touching the controls, instead laced neatly in front of his face. He reclines in the forward pilot's chair, red eyes narrowed, "Wars are fought over ideals. This? This is a fight for survival."     "So this is what desparation really looks like..." Circling around to the rear of the formation and continuing on forward again, Blastoff lets out a pensive sound, "Looks like the organic transformer is here already, too."     "Wow!" Onslaught's relaxed seating is disrupted when Vortex lunges over the back of his seat to get a better look, "Look at them all! She amassed a huge force-- what's that big thing? Is that what trashed Depthcharge?"     With an annoyed buzz, Onslaught shoves her back over his headrest, "Jettison, transform, and get into position."     The jet performs a roll, ejecting a person as it does so. Mid-fall, this new figure flips and unfolds; the body expanding as it reconfigures into that of a sleek black attack helicopter. Rotors spin up, arresting the fall. Vortex banks sharply and moves ahead of the ship formation with Blastoff and Onslaught still circling.
Ishirou	Catching up to Bota and Kana, Ishirou takes a look out over the water to see Rita going ahead with the Tarrasque.  The massive sea creature native to his home, and Ishirou swallows.  Even on the same side as the creature, that thing still brings back bad memories of what happened around it, and the fact it's a monster in and of itself.   Dressed in RESCUE already, Ishirou nods to Kana, and gets ready.  He deploys an exoframe, connecting the RESCUE to it, before connecting that to a set of armor that enhances his movement and flight capabilities.  Standing, ready to go, he waits... it's about all he can do right now, as they head to the queen and her seat of power. The underwater volcano.   Ishirou lifts off from the Busan, smiling once more to both Kana and Bota, before heading towards the sky to get a better sight of what's going on.  His sensors, enhanced visual suite, and even POD go on scan just how big the swarm is, and try to get some advanced warning on where they might head to first.  If at the very least try and predict and give some early warning to the other ships in case something happens that wasn't expected. They might be wild beasts, but they're wild beasts being guided by a firm hand.
Redshift Operators	In a poorly-lit ready-room for harpoonists, four figures with gleaming green optics sit in darkness, checking their equipment. Heavy pouches, bags, and plating adorn their body, intensive additions of carrying capacity and protection that they don't usually bring out. Guns adorn each, even those who don't use them. Ship-bounced radios guarantee communication in the worst blackouts. The leader, nearest the exit hatch, breathes strangely, an even but unrelaxing pace. They never left this place. He speaks up. "Final checks. Ten incendiary C-20r mags, six Dragon's Breath shell drums plus one slug drum, one spare L6 box mag, two standard bandoliers with the heavy incendiaries, four stechkin incendiary mags, and the backup boxes. All accounted?" "My parts are accounted." "I have what you gave me." "Six marksman magazines, two penetrator, heavy bomb beacon, toolset for fieldwork. All accounted?" "Yeah, my gear is here too." "Enhanced HL-blade, medical loadout with Epinepherine, Omnizine, Leporazine, Atropine, defibrilator, contusion and laceration kit, chemical and burn kit, and combat hypospray. All accounted?" "I've got my parts of that. WD?" "Accounted for." "Giant, you finish the project?" "It's done." "Alright." "..." "Kill anyone, anything, that'll stop you from saving this world and coming back home with me, alive. Understand?" "Of course." "Mmm." "Yeah." "Good. We're arriving as soon as Rita breaks it for us. Get ready."     They're all ready to deploy. As soon as the ships meet the front lines, that's what they'll do: Rush out of the hatch and bring fire and death, in the hope of carving a path for life. The precognitive among them begins to whisper a countdown, a predicted moment where it will be ideal to rush and strike to defend these ships and the final hope of humanity that they carry.
Rena	Despite her best attempts, Rena couldn't figure out how to bring a literal tank through the artificial warpgate without dumping it in the water, which to her seemed like a guaranteed way to lose a perfectly good tank. Red Wolf is waiting, on the other side, in case an opportunity arises *and* she can figure out how to do it without immediately sinking it. But she could bring herself, and so she did. Herself, and a whole lot of guns. Rena has never shown up so heavily armed in her life. She has her two favourite pistols she always carries, and two rifles, both of which look weirdly technological in different ways and also both of which look like they've been subject to patchwork repairs in the past. A cylinder is hooked to a clasp on her belt like another weapon, the inside of her duster is lumpy from the grenades, extra ammo, and other odds and ends she's shoved in every available pocket, pouch, and tie. And she's carrying a break-action grenade launcher loose, having run out of places to carry weapons on her back or holsters. She brought a few spare guns for locals, but being limited to what she could carry in a big bag, none of them are very large or very numerous and they barely make a dent in arming villagers or harpoonists that wanted them. Rena said they were all basic, but Rena's idea of 'basic' doesn't match a lot of other people's; in addition to UZIs and pistols, there was a sonic rifle, a laser beamer, and a pistol-sized plasma flame thrower with no obvious method or need to reload, all of which look patchwork and often jury-rigged. A few other odds and ends round it out. Pochi does not appear to be here, though he might be hiding out on the main ship. Rena is very attached to Pochi - but Pochi, though perfectly fine in a skirmish, and downright useful against monsters, is not someone she wants on a battlefield. Especially not a battlefield over water, where he can't just run away. "I'll do what I can," Rena promises Kana, and immediately switches her grenade launcher for one of the technological rifles. It is unclear what it does - it's not fire bullets, it has some sort of emitter rather than a bored barrel - but Rena busies herself adjusting it so it does whatever that is better (or possibly at all) before hefting it up. Then she uses her other hand to put the goggles she usually wears around her neck actually over her eyes. They work as binoculars, apparently; she looks ahead and lets out a low whistle, which is more to cover fear than anything else. Her gaze lingers on Rita and her escort before looking past them, and - Rena takes the iGoggles back off. She thinks she was happier before she used them.
Sarracenia	Above the battle formations were formed on the ocean's surface, another line of battleships has been deployed. These aren't even metal ships. They are the wooden Spanish-style galleon airships of the Royal Sundew Navy. All are some 200 feet long, their broadsides bristling with dozens of old world navy cannons. All the ships that helped bring Tarrasque here simply remained. They are a few dozen strong, but judging by the expressions of the piranha plant crew morale is not good. How could it be when the sea is boiling with enemies and these soldiers and sailors have rarely if ever been in a fight where it actually felt like their lives were in danger.      Sarracenia stands on the prow of the Sundew Sovereign, a slightly larger and more gawdy airship with a golden figurehead of her on the front. And she looks about as worried as her warriors, having been in about as many serious fights as them. Why is she even here? Why did her parents agree to sending the navy out to help? In truth she had been hoping they would deny the request. She likes to fight...for pride and honor. For actual life and death? Not so much.      But, despite the fear she is here. In her actual battle dress and not her usual bright red outfit. It is a leather dress with red armor plates rivetted on in a few places. It looks nice, but in an actual fight it doesn't do much to protect her. She stands with her hammer resting haft down, surveying the scene with probably the only grim expression anyone here has ever seen on her face. And the suffocating tension in the air isn't helping. Nor is her acute awareness of those around who probably hate her, or that most everyone here is a friend of those people.      Despite that, her ships offer transport to any who wish it. From the air the view of the battlefield might look even more imposing.
Kale Hearthward	The East Wind is in formation, above the armada. Kale's got his whole crew assembled, and the ship stocked with as many medical supplies and facilities as will fit on it. ... Including a lot of cold storage. It's... *technically* a morgue. But the intention is that the cold storage of intact bodies is *temporary* - until such time as Kukuru can come by and work her magic. Kale himself is perched on the top of the craft, magnetic locks and magic keeping him comfortably stable. He's the last part of the setup - offense, but also retrieving the injured. And the 'injured' - Kukuru's patients-in-waiting. All the same, intrusive thoughts keep him wondering how much more of the latter there is going to be than the former... and if some of the opponents they're facing today will even leave bodies in their wake. ... He has to wonder if there'll even be a body of *his own* at the end. No. Today's the day that the world ends, and Kale's been building his crew and his skills specifically for today. Optimistic thoughts only. Nothing's going to go wrong.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine rolls over in the master bed of her sanctuary, blinks herself awake, leans over to the bedside table and tears a sheet off her page-a-day calendar. Only one thing on her schedule for today, represented with an inward-curved H - the mark of Pisces. "But what to wear," the huntress asks herself aloud as she sits upright. One of her faceless attendants enters the bedroom and opens a large wardrobe for Madeleine to view her options. She briefly considers her old wartime dress uniform before settling on something more practical.     Emerging from the warp-gate, Madeleine is clad in an all-black wetsuit, plus some kind of leather body harness. At each joint and the midpoints between, a leather band projects a ring of heavy chrome spikes. She is eating what appears to be some kind of chocolate bar, and carries a mostly-empty bag of peanuts in her other hand. "Forgot about breakfast", she says to nobody in particular, as if that's sufficient explanation. Walking up to Kana and Bota, she offers a brief introduction in between bites. "I'm Madeleine. Friend of Rita's. Here to help." Without waiting for an answer, she walks off toward the prow of the main ship.
Tamamo	Relying upon preparations has long been Tamamo's strong suit. That extends to those she made some time ago, in extending her power to the harpoonists by means of rituals, performed and anchored by the 'shrines' she requested be made. It's at odds with her stance of not taking the conventional position of a god -- that is, a being to be worshiped and to rule over others -- but it was something she could do, and this hadn't seemed a time to hold back. The end result was that her requests for 'priesthood' and rites have been very light. They can't be 'none,' or there'd be no means by which to transfer the power of the Sun to the harpoonists, after all.     Pragmatic, utility-focused approaches simply don't work with 'magic,' is the simple explanation she's given. If pressed, she'd only say that there was a need for 'mystery,' with odd emphasis.     Penetrating the waters with that burning light remains a problem, but it's the best means by which she has to provide a naturally distributing, wide-area effect to protect as many people as possible, regardless of the number of their opponents. In that sense, it's perfect. It doesn't even have a significant risk of harming the humans involved, so long as they don't expose unprotected skin long enough to burn. Talismans can be used by human wielders or placed against hulls, activated by easily-taught hand-seals or triggering phrases.     Curses are a trickier business, for the greater ease of harming the people using them, which is why Tamamo has spent less of her time preparing them. Freezing has worked well, previously, for how it spreads, pierces, blockades and kills, and she's reserved paper talismans for those purposes for herself, for Lilian, and for Kana, making sure in the little free time they have available that there is an accurate understanding of concepts equivalent to 'safe distance' in their use.
Dysnomia	When the call goes through, and the rest of the elites filter through the warpgate, Dysnomia is already there. Has already BEEN there. Prowling across the Union Buson, multitool in hand. She could taste the tension in the air. She double checked the fortifications on the hull, eyes sharp enough to pick up the smallest imperfections, limited only by the limits of her focus.     Death lingered in the air, like physical thing. A promise, behind every eye. A payment for a wager against inevitable fate, paid in mass-death. She triple checked.     Quadruple checked.     She's in the middle of the fifth pass, when their arrival is imminent, marked by the march of harpoonist boots, toward what would almost certainly be their final post. Their last stand.     Her own boots clank as she joins the others, her multitool phasing out of reality as smears of color leak from her body, like steam rolling from a spring. As she stared over the water, the teeming mass of monsters they approached, the desperate harpoonists at their flank, she felt more blind than ever.     She found herself smiling. There was no joy it. "I wondered why she was willing to go so far." Dysnomia murmured, her eyes finding Rita, abreast of her own war legion. "But I think I get it now. She's trying to match all of you, isn't she...? Put her everything on the line. Just like you." She said to Bota and Kana, never taking her eyes from the ocean. In a horrible way, it's almost beautiful, isn't it? I'm jealous.     "We'll get you there."
Candy	Upon arrival, Candy takes up a post near Sea Monkey. He looks like he could be a harpoonist, albeit one with unusually stylized (and antiquated) armor. A tough grey jumpsuit sports thick, riveted armor plates in burnished bronze. His brown eyes sweep over the flotilla of small fishing boats, and his mouth twists into a tight-lipped frown, as he drags a knapping stone across the obsidian head of a spear.     It was all he could do, upon the last engagement, to protect the fishing boats with that spear of his. Perhaps 'more than all,' considering the exhaustion after the fact. This will be worse; an invasion, rather than a 'river' crossing. His armored gloves creak as he squeezes the haft of his spear anxiously.     The Queen is clearly pictured in his mind, even before the engagement has begun. It's her fault that these people should sail into Hell; that there should be such a thing now as 'dead until proven otherwise.' That even if he spent himself down to his last thread, some of these people still wouldn't make it. Years of stories, of connections, severed by glassy-eyed, apathetic--"Fucking thieves."     He looks, then, towards Rita, and her menagerie at the front. Candy hasn't the faintest idea what any of those creatures are, where they might have come from, or what they're like--only the aching hope that their help will be enough.     Candy lifts the spear, holding it high. Moisture from the sea air forms on its bladed tip in little beads. The droplets lift up, congeal, and swirl around the tip in a slow helix. "You know," he says to Sea Monkey, "I used to think about a moment like this, ever since the first time I met that Queen."     "About, ah, how hard I would fight, what I would say. What songs we would sing after." He doesn't look happy to have had those thoughts, even if he might have felt differently a year ago. "Now I look out, and I see a navy of fishers and handyfolks and mothers and fathers, and I just want it to be over."      The farmer sighs. "This is gonna be ugly." Still, he steels himself, looking out at the distant 'island' ahead. "But I'm not going nowhere."
Kukuru	Even after getting thrashed around just some hours ago, Kukuru is already standing with those upon the Union Busan's deck. Her black/dark gray jacket looks like it's seen better days, but she hasn't had much time to fix everything from the day before beyond just slapping some patches on the jacket and swapping the shorts and blouse out for bright green wetsuit to aid in rescues later. Or recovery, but she's trying not to think too hard about that. Her parents haven't stopped thinking about that. She's brought snacks, too, but it's different from the usual fare. Instead of fried meat, fried shrimp balls, or fried other things, Kukuru's snack of the day is far more practical: A calorie dense, but light-feeling and slightly wet bar that still manages to taste meaty. There's no room for distractions today, and having someone die because they felt a little too heavy after eating wouldn't sit right with her even if she could recover the body for revival later. Better to make sure some of those bodies won't need to be recovered in the first place with something functional for once. "The ships aren't gonna last long, huh? Hmm. But I'll keep everyone alive." Kukuru replies plainly to Kana, closing her eyes as she briefly considers adding something on there and then not. No qualifiers, no time restraints, just a firm declaration, impractical and impossible though it may be. "We'll all see her again after this, even if it it takes a while." She affirms to Bota and Kana with a slow nod, almost ready to step off the bridge before remembering something else she needs to do first. A dark cloud appears in front of Kukuru, and she steps through it to reappear besides Gebura, stumbling just a bit in her step before exhaling softly. "Gebby? I'll be keeping an eye on everyone today. If I need to change my approach, though..." Kukuru pauses, looking across all the Agents and Abnormalities that have been brought along, then over at the mass of people on board all those ships. She takes a deep breath to compose herself, then finally smiles softly while looking back at Gebura again. "You'll let me know, won't you?" Kukuru reaches into her pockets, draws out her claws to get them secured over her hands, and then she waits to get to work just like she was originally hired for.
Aidan Proudpick	The 'headquarters' of the People's Knights is more of a barn. It is a barn. Guns are stacked on haphazard racks. Small Breath Weapons, baubles really that they've cooked up to do simple tricks, lie around tables. A dozen animals stand around in leather armor, quiet. Cole, the lead 'engineer' skunk, grabs Aidan by both ears and yanks him downward. "This is stupid. And if you go out there and don't remember that you have to come back to everyone that loves and cares about you, you are stupid too. But since you gotta do it, remember, you ARE a knight." Being on the wooden airship of Sarracenia's makes him feel like a Knight. He feels in command! A captain! That moment is soured by the fact that there is a HUGE GOLDEN FIGUREHEAD on the front of the airship and that the Princess will only use him to one up someone else. But he will take what he can get. Aidan looks like he does every time. He tried hard to think of anything extra to bring. But all he has is his Breath Weapon, his gun, and himself. He bounces up and down on his paws, trying to keep himself from feeling the lethargy that still brings him down. He'd be here if he had a gaping flesh wound. He can't NOT be here. Part of it to save a world. Part of it to prove himself. It's a lot to let himself feel that second part. To allow it. He does need to prove himself. But not just himself, all of Quicknest. That said, he is having to compartmentalize. Thinking of every horrific monster, every Abnormality as just another weapon. Not a fleshy beast about to die in service of them. The fact that the Shark starts to shout threatens to make a As the USS Not Compensating For Something rides close to the USS Even More Not Compensating For Something, Aidan turns his head. He cups his hand around his mouth and draws in a bit of wind so that his voice can carry over the noise. "SIR HEARTHWARD! YOU BETTER NOT DIE! I STILL NEED TO BEAT THE WIND OUT OF YOU!" This should be enough to prove that Aidan is in good spirits and ready. He erects a wind barrier with a spread of his hands, spreading it over the front of Sarracenia's Airship.
Stanley Padgett	<J-IC-Scene> Kana takes a little breath. "The sea monsters use volcanoes to spread their eggs. If we don't destroy their nest before that, our world is over. Our objective is to get the Union Busan over it, then deploy our bombs. Their Queen is an unknown factor." <J-IC-Scene> Kana says, "That's the info. This is the advice:" <J-IC-Scene> Kana says, "Most of you are probably going to die. Most of us too."     Stanley sits on the prow of Sarracenia's lead ship. He's wearing the suit he got from the Harpooners and Bota the last time he took up arms against the Queen's forces. The slick suit reflects what sun it can, as Stanley watches the fleet and armada approach the contact point. "'To be... or not to be?' No. Too moody, done to death." He furrows his brow, and taps his sabre against his palm, the shimmering toxins on the blade slipping into view as he concentrates. Behind him... Mercutio, the giant representation of his Inner Soul, hovers and observes as well, faceless and impassive. "'One sees more devils than vast hell can hold'? Too on the nose, not appropriate." A shake of his head, and he pulls down his diving goggles again, his rebreather hanging from his neck.     "Polonius then. To thine own self be true. A Fool's platitude for a Fool, and all's the better." Stanley takes a breath, and looks back to Aiden and the Princess. "Your Majesty, let's follow the Busan in, get those guns to clear a path, I say. Get me in position and I'll drop in."
Hibiki Tachibana	"...It sounds like it's finally time. I gotta go. ...You know, right?" "Do you?" ". . ." "You're saying that like you're not totally sure you'll come back." ". . ." "...And I won't let go of you, if you won't. Not again. So you have to promise." ". . ." "Promise." "...I'll come back. Even if I die, I'll come back alive." "I promise."     . . .     The first, unavoidable sight stepping out onto the Busan's deck can't help but be Rita, well away yet still entirely discernable. With her fleet in miniature of monsters under her control, taking the fore and separate from all of the rest of them. Obviously, Hibiki already knew well ahead of time that this would be the case. But still, seeing her on her homeworld, yet still so distant from her family right here, feels strange.     Or... no, seeing her readying herself like this evokes a feeling she can't quite place period. "...Rita... you really have come a long way from when you were asking to be taught how to fight. It might not be 'like humans do', but I don't think it has to be."     And after that, it has to be the innumerable, unthinkable mass occupying the horizon. Hearing just how ridiculous the numbers will be doesn't hold a candle to seeing it in person - but it's not fear of that which she has to push back into place. It's not that she's not afraid of the sheer difference in scale and body count here. But...     She looks off to the left, over the railing. And then to the right. And finally, she steps closer to the bow, enough to look over the undersized and undergunned fishing boats that have had the misfortune of being put up front. ...in the end they're all expendable.     "I'll protect as many of them as I can," Hibiki says, an offhanded response to Kana as much as it is a swear to bolster her own resolve for everything ahead. "...And the ones I can't... ...I'll bring them back." Whether it's in a state Kukuru can bring back from death, or even just something for someone else to remember them by...     That's probably why she's transforming before they hit the tide - and making a massive leap from the Busan's deck to lightly come down on one of the forefront fishing rigs.     If Tamamo has any solar talismans to spare that aren't already being used, she'll ensure there's at least a couple distributed between them. Since they're going in ahead, it might help to ward them out of the Busan's path for a precious few extra moments.     But in her mind, she thinks they'll need all the help they can get. She'll do what she can for as long as she can, but she's just one girl.
Lilian Rook	'I'll save everyone I can before then. But making it back will be their own responsibility. When it comes to the Queen, I've already decided that I'm going to focus everything I have into defeating her. That's the only way it won't be too much.'     Those are Lilian's own words. She'd meant every single one of them, but it'd been reluctance mixed in with the relief of carefully abdicating responsibility, back then. Now the second half of that promise is seared into her mind, and seeing those pathetic little boats at the vanguard, it feels like bile instead of respite to have said them. The leadup is sufficient time to cycle through mute disgust, meditative repitition of the tenth code, guilt for hiding behind it, the cold realization that she can't help them anyways, and finally a different kind of mute disgust.     'At least, just a tiny bit, it feels good when everything wrong takes the shape of a monster you can hit back and kill. That doesn't always happen.'     She'd said that too.     Armed and armoured, Lilian arrives at the top deck rather than taking to the sides; this isn't the crossing, so the enemies will be coming from all directions anyways. It's indicative of the gravity of the situation, probably, that she's made such a departure from her usual as to have a few workers help her cart in crates of ammunition like she used to use years ago. The desperate need to save Rita's home outweighs an inch or two of her ideal. But she still doesn't look happy about it.     Idly, the familiar shape of that hideous sea creature at Rita's flank makes her remember something else, too. The blind promise she'd made that she would entrust Rita with that kind of power, even if they came at odds again later. Lilian silently wonders if Rita remembers it too. Now that she's gone and done it by arming Rita with that terrible light . . .     "I haven't forgotten." Lilian says to Kana. "I feel even less good about them being in front than her. They've already accepted death; she hasn't, so she'll fight against it." Breathing out, Lilian lets all the air empty from her lungs, and then so much from her blood that it starts to make her feel dizzy. Only then does she allow breath back in, and with a glowing fingertip to her throat, begin calling out.     "Ishirou; you'll be providing me all the spare energy you can channel through. Redshift team; I've sourced separate supplies, at the coordinates I'm uploading to you now. What you're carrying won't be enough. Hearthward; wind forward, behind us and against them, let the reverse wake bottleneck them and speed us up even a little. Tamamo . . . for once, I need to ask you to help me first and support whoever else you can second. Candelario; have one of your friends spot for Rita, and we both know why. Tachibana; do your job. The rest of you; if you plan to leave after dropping these bombs, Rita needs to be there to take over the keys once we neutralize the queen; ensure it or find out."
Petra Soroka	The battle for the fate of the world will be fought by a thousand grim chibis packed shoulder to shoulder.     In addition to the expected equipment-- EGO suit worn over a wetsuit, black spear in hand, other gear strapped to her waist in lieu of having her compact mirror-- Petra also wears goggles, distinctly different enough in tech level and design to obviously not just be for the water. Anyone who's seen them at Lobotomy Corporation recognizes them as the Cognition Filter, for chibifying people, gentling gore, and cutifying monsters. Petra keeps Rita just out of the corner of her vision, while adjusting to moving through the distorted crowd, then slowly, slowly lets her head turn to barely see a sliver of her: a cartoonish representation of the girl Petra knows, with a few unsettling details about her eyes, on top of a big green turtle.     Petra sighs heavily in relief, dropping her head, and then notices that the grey of the water is comprised of a seething mass of bodies she hadn't immediately recognized as bodies, distorted as they are. She shifts closer to the other agents, or maybe Angela on their wrists, while Kana finishes up her announcement. The atmosphere, more than the task at hand, is what makes her chest feel heavy and grip tighten around her spear, because the task, a *war* against a force of nature, is still too big to really wrap her head around, with it right in front of her. "Fight because you'll get Paid Time Off if you make it back!"     Petra finally notices the other agents, the ones less important in her mind than Nonon and Shajo. Remembering Angela's admission that they were almost surely going to die, Petra opens her mouth as if she's going to say something to them, then doesn't, letting her spear-hand sink back down to her side. Instead, she says to Nonon, voice low and sticky from the salt air, "... You know, I really wonder if anyone will really know what happened today. It's not like we brought any journalists."     On that thought, Petra quietly unclips Pence from her waist, floating it up in the air from her hand. A series of lenses, omnidirectional, flicker on on the ratbot's chassis. Then, bracing herself for the potential scolding of making a really horrible decision, her radio comes next. A cheap one, not her usual, which she says a few words into before dropping it and the earpiece off onto a table, expecting not to get them back. <J-IC-Scene> Petra Soroka says, "I, um, won't have my radio. If you really, really need me, for whatever, say it to the ratbot."     Between tactical coordination and risking overhearing something she shouldn't, the choice is clear. Pence the ratbot floats up above the ocean, serving the dual-purpose of being a last-ditch route of reaching Petra once the Elites are scattered, and also-- recording the battle, just so someone is, so it's possible for it to be known and archived, heroes or not.
Meika Kirenai	Chevalier Vermillion doesn't have the heart to let her footfalls make any sound, as she joins the procession out of the warpgate. 'Be fine' was the sentiment her sister left her with, but it aches to not yet know if a promise is a lie. It's a struggle to squeeze past the sardine-packed harpoonists, out towards the edge of the deck, where there's any breathing room- anything to not have to choke on guilt in a crowd.     It's nearly the same as hopping the wall of a rink-side bench, vaulting the deck's railing, and standing firm on nothing but thin air. A hand still clutches it, keeping momentum steady, giving Vermillion a surface for her fingers to restlessly, silently tap against. Her other hand- befitting the similarity in motion, clutches her old hockey stick. It's silly that I even brought a gun, right? I'll never have enough bullets. Nobody could.     Worse, even still there, with the wind blowing through hair and ribbons, it still feels like somwhere down the line a trespass to be bothering at all. It's selfish, right? To risk things, or to want not to? What's the right call? She blinks, and turns her gaze around, finally trying to take stock of the surroundings through more than the sense of overwhelming weight.     The Harpoonists. The civilian-soldiers. The- Huh? That's the ratbot..? In an autopilot motion, Vermillion waves the blade of her hockey stick in a gesture towards the sky-high rodent robot. It's too hard to laugh now, but the ghost of a giggle fades in the back of her mouth.     The wall on the horizon, and the paired formations between here and there, draw the most attention, grim and aching. It's horrible to watch her, out in front of everyone. What's after this? Is there an after? Vermillion's heart twists in her throat, as she tears her eyes away from Rita's swarm, and the milling fishing boats atop the waves.     "...It's just a straight central push. That's the kind of play you always wish would work, right? Easy and down the middle. Planning without the other team in mind. Aha.." Her throat siezes weird, when she realize's she's saying anything- not to anyone in particular, still, as she hears the minute-left warning from Kana. "I used to wing for my old team, too. I was good at it.That's funny. It's like a teammate's a boat." And monsters, too. Absentmindedly, where Vermillion is clutching the railing, her grip crushes and indents the shape of her hand into its metal- silently. She doesn't even notice.     "...I kind of never thought I'd miss pre-game speeches. Isn't that funny?" Vermillion looks down, still talking mostly to herself. With nerves as jittery as hers are, though, biting her tongue more than she's been trying to isn't in the cards. A moment later, she pulls her hand up from where she'd been squeezing the railing- Oh. Oops.. With a tiny flinch, and a larger inhale, she grabs back at it- gentler, and tucks her posture lower, akin to a sprinter's crouch. Count the rest of the time- there won't be a whistle, there won't be a buzzer. A brilliant glowing aura of metal-trembling sound starts to blare up around her.
Rita Ma	Kana, by now, has a small empty hip pouch just for Tamamo's charms; she listens in laser-focused silence. The skeleton crew of engineers left on the Union Busan hurry to apply sunlight charms to the hull. Benin's harpoonists on the flanks still have their healing and sunlight charms she gave them months ago.      Ishirou: Billions. They are stacked from seafloor to surface in a school miles in diameter, with barely enough room for water to breathe.      In the distance, Rita makes contact. The froth on the horizon grows more frenzied: her influence wrestles with the Queen's, turning one in three of the sea monsters against their neighbors in complex shimmering bands of competing loyalties. It's like a magnet making ripples in a sea of iron filings. In the chaos, her new pets can make all the difference.      You're too far away to hear it when the Tarrasque launches its spikes or the fragment of Mors Caelorum starts to decohere sky from sea from flesh, when space-whale calves telekinetically cavitate the water like artillery pieces. It's a spectacle on mute, a mirage on the horizon, barely seeming real. The only aftershock is a murmur passing through the crowd of tense fighters. "I guess it's true." "She's still our angel." "Maybe we'll--"      "Kukuru. It's good to see you again. I've been meaning to ask you something, since the island. I can't get used to fighting with two eyes now, but..." Kana reaches up and taps her eyepatch. "After all of this is over. Do you think you could--"      "Yeah?" Sea Monkey says to Candy. "War always looks worse up close. Never ready for how much worse. Sometimes I think I've got to have amnesia, staying in this--"      Something whale-sized surfaces and blooms on the horizon. "GET DOW--"      ----      The air whistles. Dozens of wriggly sharp symbiotic 'teeth' strike the Busan's hull and deck, along with any flying craft. One hits Sea Monkey's helmet, shattering the tinted glass. She screams and falls back. Then each one detonates with staggered timing, a deafening staccato. There's chaos on the deck.      Rita's aquatic monsters plunge after it, including the two goldfish merged into a serpentine flying dragon, but it's already submerging. (Strangely, she keeps that colorful shark back and hops onto it instead- an excuse to protect it, maybe.) "Vajra," Kana hisses, picking herself up from the deck. "Seventh Devil."
Rita Ma	https://youtu.be/AVjqVMV4SPA      The ship's groaning shudder that follows all-too-soon after is familiar to a handful: the Union Busan physically impacting a nearly-solid wall of leviathan flesh. Off the bow, the leading fishing boats crewed by the remnants of Akroma struggle just to survive long enough to deploy their electrical mines. Their craft are being shredded apart like cows skeletonized by piranha: the only way to save any of them is to simply get them out.      Manhattan opens fire with ancient guns. Flares of sunlight start to reactively pop from Benin's transports and the Union Busan's hull. The missile racks Lilian had installed in the retrofit roar to life, arcing over Rita's formation to carve more of a path.      The Union Busan slowly grinds forwards. Sea monsters start to surge up its sides, piling on top of one another in waves until they can clamber onto the deck. Crustaceans with too many limbs, tentacled beasts in every shape, bone-plated snapping sharks like something a hundred million years extinct, all wash over in a writhing pile and threaten to capsize the ship with their sheer weight. The harpoonists hack them back like trailblazing a path with machetes. One chomps Sonia's arm, and Brune lunges to stop it a little too slow.      Over the groaning and metal-shrieking and concussion of bodies and froth of water and roar of munitions, the screams almost aren't audible. Losses pass in a haze.
Redshift Operators	"Three... two..."     Every hand in red squeezes tight.     The precognitive doesn't say "one". She lets the monsters speak. All four are rushing to the hatch as soon as the shuddering impact is subdued enough to stand safely. A gunman with a hefty rifle, a ninja with a long blade, an astronaut with a marksman rifle, and ahead of the gang...     A seven-foot giant with four burning green optics.     White Dwarf plunges a heavy stimulant dose into Red Giant. All eyes are open. He takes the last hit of an inhaler and tosses it aside. The new optic patch on the right side of his helmet shines, a thick and ruggedized apparatus that bristles with targeting systems. No struggling breaths, no disorientation, no question about why he's here. The giant surges with unbelievable speed while the other three leap onto his back, weapons brandished.     When he charges across the deck of the Union Busan with the sound of pounding metal, and slams into a cluster of crustacean threats, it sounds like someone just landed a heavy artillery shot on the Busan. Barring something unimaginable, it'll spray boneand blood in every direction like a bomb went off. And without hesitation, the other three on his shoulders start their work. Incendiary grenades. Incendiary bullets. Marksman shots that bounce between foes and plunge into eyes. Slices that sweep a dozen bodies in zig-zagging rushes, so fast you could almost head a vacuum collapse behind the blade.     Listen close. Listen over the sound of metah shrieking. Listen over the sound of water and bodies and guns. Listen over the sounds of screams and roars. Listen, listen closely.     Can you hear the sound of that breathing, steady and unwavering?     In. Think.     Out. Act.
Sarracenia	Sarracenia's grim expression turns a bit more annoyed as Stanley tries to find the right epic words to mark the occassion. Eventually her head snaps around and she gives him a look just after the Polonius line. He proposes a strategy, and she hmphs softly. "Naturally. Just make sure that the number of my sailors who are likely about to give their lives is worth it." she says, trying to hide her nervousness behind her typical arrogant princess routine.      Aidan looks as he always does. That's a problem as far as Sarracenia is concerned. So, she has a set of the piranha plant's conquistador armored chestpiece and a man-o-war helmet brought out for him. The armor is made for the piranha plants, so it should fit on him more or less. It is properly polished to a silver shine. Gregory, her piranha plant butler, holds it up to him and Sarracenia looks sidelong at Aidan. "Put that on. Quickly. If we are going to risk death I will not have someone in my entourage who claims to be a knight looking like a squire." she says, then turns her gaze back out to sea.      Rita starts the attack. It is hard to make out just what all is happening down below, but the Sundew Navy ships put their plan into action. The hull of the Sundew Sovereign opens underneath, and a cannon big enough to fit a car is deployed. It starts firing similarly sized Bullet Bills in an effort to act like an ice breaker for the Union Busan, attempting to clear out the path in front of the ship below. The Sundew ships form up in a flying V around the Sovereign, and with a wave of thunderous cannon shots explosive shells rain down, aimed out just enough to keep from hitting the Busan in an attempt to stem the flood of creatures over its sides.      "Get going, you two!" Sarracenia shouts at Aidan and Stanley, though she has no doubt she doesn't have to.
Ishirou	Right now, Ishirou realizes where he needs to be the most.  In the air, providing up-to-date intelligence for the group.  He does what he does best, gets information, and spreads it around... but in that data, he can send it to people who need it, to provide them what information they need to make their attacks stronger, and more accurate... `Ishirou; you'll be providing me with all the spare energy you can channel through.' "Roger!" he signals back, and when the casualties start coming in he signals people.  "The boats that have the remaining crew from the Akroma are struggling!  They need anyone who can be spared to get them out and get them to a more sturdy ship!" An OPTION deploys and immediately goes for Lilian, Ishirou dives to try and help the crew of the fishing boats by deploying more OPTIONs to try and carry them to either the Union or the Manhattan.  Anywhere that isn't where they are at.   Through the OPTION that Lilian gets, she can feel energy transfer from Ishirou to herself, aiming to provide her both up-to-date information resources, but also energy to perform whatever it is she plans on doing.  RESCUE, right now, however, is living up to its name trying to recover those on the lighter ships that are being shredded.
Kale Hearthward	> "SIR HEARTHWARD! YOU BETTER NOT DIE! I STILL NEED TO BEAT THE WIND OUT OF YOU!" "... What?" Kale looks over. "Is that - Proudpick? Here and now, of all places? Where the heck was he two weeks ago?" > "Hearthward; wind forward, behind us and against them, let the reverse wake bottleneck them and speed us up even a little." "Right. East Wind, in and down." The ship dips. Kale casts, using his ship as an area amplifier, putting his all into altering the wind. Favorable conditions for the armada foremost, and pushing the enemy forces away and out as much as possible. Deep breaths. Focus- - one of the flying 'teeth' slams into the side of the East Wind, and detonates a second later. The ship lists for a second before righting itself. The wind falters. I'm going to die here. Focus. This isn't the time to lose your nerve. The wind picks back up.
Dysnomia	<J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "You, the rest, everyone here. Don't try to pace yourself; we're already at the final sprint. If you collapse before we're done, someone will come and get you. If the Queen has a last ditch trump card up her sleeve-- and she likely does-- then we don't need dozens of half-spent Elites on deck; we need our remaining strength concentrated as much as possible in the few we have with experience fighting far outside their weight class." <J-IC-Scene> Dysnomia says, "Copy that, Dame Commander." <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "Shirk that responsibility at your own peril. Getting us there is what most of this group excels at." <J-IC-Scene> Dysnomia repeated, almost to herself, "No holding back."     Dysnomia's gaze lingers on Rita for a long moment. Her eyes close, her hands' grip tighten on the railing railing.     Colorful, uncanny smears menace the air around her, heedless of the wind, or even the inertia of her approach. There's a feeling that tastes the same way that unlocking sounds. She breathes in. Out.     Then. Her body dissolves into color.     Teal and violet interweave above the Union Busan the same way a child might daydream of dancing colors through a car's window on a long drive. Its shape is long and serpentine, flowing not like rolling clouds or mists, but like the spiraling arms of a nebula.     Its shape is long, featureless and serpentine, a half-formed idea. With glowing spots where its eyes should be. Dysnomia surveyed the battlefield from above, relishing a moment being free to breathe. But only a moment.     There is a gust, strands of color spinning about the battlefield, before Dysnomia finally begins to move.     Her claws seize symboite after symboite as they strike the hull, dozens upon dozens of trails of what could pass for smoke reaching down to seize them--When did she get claws? And why are there so many?--She opened her mouth, a spiraling cloud of a throat with a bright light behind--That thing didn't have a mouth before, did it?--and breathed a line of burning plasma in front of the Union Busan, hot enough to make the sea boil as Sarracenia's bullet bills crashed into the waves, filling the air with a crackling ozone smell, in hopes of assuring the Union Busan a journey of plowing forward through boiled, dead flesh, rather than thrashing monsters.
Tamamo	Lilian had asked her to focus, and to some extent, that's difficult, knowing how much pain and death is about to occur, and in another sense, it's--     --easier than Tamamo would like anyone to realize. To think of her as 'focused' is one thing, but if all knew just how easily she could steel her heart against sacrifices of everyone else, wouldn't that lend full credence to the legends? Shouldn't there be a limit to one woman's selfishness? So long as her love is--     --fine. It's fine, and there's no time to think about anything else. When the first impact hits, and she takes to her feet to regain her balance, rather than risk being bowled over, her robes are replaced with her gold-banded wetsuit, pouches available for her to draw forth her talismans in place of prestidigitation with sleeves. The goal was made clear, to drive forward as quickly as possible, to give even less time for all here to die. She'd already done what she could for the advanced boats, and hasn't the mobility to rescue fishermen while also heeding Lilian's words. She knows what to do.     "And the fourth great naraka was Hahava, where lamentation was all that remained, and the heart shall beat but once an eon, to slowly consider the weight that remains in death."     The talismans drop through the water ahead in two lines, small and unnoticed as scattered seeds against the root-like spikes of cursed ice that burst from them. These aren't likely to last an eon, but the cold of their touch is not only similarly deadly, but saps the spirit in accordance with the frozen hell from which the curses are empowered. They reach deeply, intertwining and breaking up the solid mass of hostile flesh, leaving open only a lane through which to take the ships.     Others will have to deal with the attacks already striking them.
Angela	Gebura's eyebrow twitches at 'Gebby'. "The human beings, save 'em as much as you want. Rita, ditto. Clark Miller, if you have to." She says quickly and lowly to Kukuru. Petra does offhandedly question the idea that the story will be told at all and Nonon says, "Sailors will share what they think happened if nothin' else. But you aren't wrong." to her. It's pretty clear Nonon isn't above a little storytelling to lift spirits. "Though I'll remember if notin' else." Nonon also made a promise to a girl that she'll 'go somewhere with her' afterwards so she's feeling pretty invincible now. She also just is the most invincible of the Lobotomy Corp team. If she goes down it'll probably mean the whole team is a wash. Not that that's impossible. "THEY'RE HERE!" Gebura shouts, moments before the monsters reveal themselves. Naturally one Disciplinary Team agent gets eaten immediately. The other members of Disciplinary don't even comment, they all knew Will was going to be the first to die. He was just trying to pay off his student loans. DISCIPLINARY TEAM MEMBERS REMAINING: 7 Wow, there's so many fishies! Dreaming Current excitedly chatters. It lets out 'Shark Roar' despite sharks not having the ability to roar because this is a DREAM of a shark. RAAARR! I'm a shark!! The legs kick up and down, spinning in circles for a moment because Rita is holding him back. It's the safest and also the most dangerous place to be in this battle. Ceri is a duelist by nature. She goes straight for the biggest fish monster she can reach, aiming for critical points like eyes and softer parts of the beasts to cripple them rather than going in for the kill whereas Max has strength, and better situational awareness, so he covers for Ceri--protecting her from beasts with Bear Fists. Because Max is present, Ceri can fight the way she knows how to fight. Shajo swings his axe, slicing coolly across the piranhas--having the mission awareness to focus on protecting the ship rather than going for anything like glory. His axe slices apart beast after beast like he's still searching for something amongst the carnage and he just isn't finding it. He sees Sonia take a bite in the arm and he takes a moment to draw out a gun and fire a single HP Ampule (don't worry, the Harpoonists are aware) towards Sonia. It's filled with delicious Regenerative Juices! Well maybe it's delicious if you drink it. Shajo wouldn't recommend it. "Got plenty of Ampules left!" He shouts. He's carrying them today because Nonon is definitely not in the mindset for it. Tweed just fires aimlessly. Her bullets have homing and there's too many beasts around to bother with aiming. She is saying things but they're pretty much all censored out.
Angela	Nonon is the one who fights more or less alone because she has to. She sees Rita in the distance and takes that as incentive. She dives right into the thick of a mass of Leviathan beasts. Every third punch, an explosion of light explodes out of her fists. Each blow feels like getting hit by a car but every third blow feels like getting hit by the Hell Train, scattering Leviathans around her with each strike. She swings that Gas Harpoon around like she's been wielding one her whole life but it's her offhand weapon today. "Come on, COME ON, COME ON! This isn't enough to satisfy me yet!" She shouts. This is the kind of battle she most excels in which is explains why the Disciplianry Team has centered their hopes on her, for the most part. That Gold Rush is not WAW Gear. It's Aleph Gear, as powerful as the EGO Armor Petra has earned but focused on offense. Her EGO Armor is SPECIALIZED against 'Red Damage'. Teeth break off against that suit, tentacles smash against it and she yet endures, grinning more and more with every blow she inflicts-- --and receives. She tears off a tentacle with her bare hands and flings it back onto her boat. "Not this ship!" Nonon cackles. "You won't take THIS SHIP!" Angela is forced to watch by Managerial Order. She sees a man being chomped to bits with horrible slowness. She sees the flesh break, the organs puncture, the bones snap. She hears the screams enlongated over hours. She hears the roars and cheers and it's so much. Even for her, it's so much. She tries closing her eyes but it's worse that way so she opens them again. Her hands shake at the edge of her desk. This is new so it's harder to just...file it away. Reports filter in through her head and out of it. Occassionally she says something, directs an Agent somewhere, but gives Shajo a warning. But it's like someone else is saying it. Every piece of the Union Busan ripped free is an eternity of horror and suspense. Even the violence against the monsters themselves is with agonizing detail. That sloooow rip of a tentacle, those harpoons puncturing flesh and sinew. Each moment is etched upon her mind. Forever. Wow, mommy! I didn't know the ocean could turn red!
Combaticon	"Blastoff, deposit me on the Buson and then take spearhead position."     "On it!"     The aircraft swerves in midair again, diving low over the Union Buson such that the roar of jet exhaust. Ejected from the cockpit is a robotic humnaoid armored in dark aqua colors with green accents. Some two meters of metal, Onslaught hits the deck of the ship with a resonating, heavy sound. Immediately he turns as he straightens, facing the prow, while Blastoff soars ahead once more.     Something huge surfaces in the distance. Projectiles fill the air. The fighter jet breaking into the formation's lead banks sharply into a spiral, trailing explosions from spines that the maneuver dislodges, "Yeow! I ain't the only one who brought fireworks!"     Vortex's solution to wide-area fire is to--revert to robot mode, presenting a significantly smaller target at the cost of slowing herself down. Keeping herself prone in midair, shielding her face with one forearm at an angle, spines slice off her armor at sharp angles, "Primus willing, they won't have too much more of that..."     Vortex reverts back to vehicle mode, accelerating once more. Ahead of her, Blastoff trails smoke but does not slow down. Bays on the jet's underside slide silently open, dropping half a dozen bombs one at a time -- As they descend, the explosives shatter into countless fist-sized bomblets, splashing into the water and detonating a second later.     The slower helicopter swings sidelong, as if watching the smaller lead boats getting torn out from beneath the human passengers. Inwardly she cringes, because her vehicle form only has two seats.     > <J-IC-Scene> Ishirou says, "The smaller ships are being shreded, far too fast too! Their crews need to be evacuated to larger ships if you can spare the time!"     She decides she doesn't care.     The gunpods under her wings unlock and swing out on turret mounts, along with the turreted gun under her nose. The attack helicopter descends, autocannons stirring up the water around just one of the boats. Through an external speaker, she shouts over the chop of her rotors: "Ventral cargo hook! You know what a chain is? Make a human chain! I can't carry all of you on my own, you'll have work together if you want to live!"     "Vortex." Onslaught's tone isn't negative. It isn't positive either. From the deck of the Union Buson, he stares down at the churning water. The noise of something climbing the outer hull draws his attention. Without looking he snaps his right arm up, a blaster flipping out of his forearm and into his waiting hand. Violet-tinted energy perforates the very first sea beast to crest the handrail.     "Organics and gentlemachines, we are being boarded," the Decepticon announces, "Fight as though your lives depend on it. They do."     Without further comment, his torso splits open and folds back. With a distinctive sound, ratcheting down in octaves, Onslaught's body unfurls and expands into a large Roadmaster truck with a heavy turret in the bed. Anchors extend and swing down into the rusted deck, causing a thundrous sound and kicking up oxidized dust. Only then does the turret rotate, aiming forwards.     Soon, it isn't just the Manhattan with a gun turret; Onslaught's artillery fire from the Union Buson joins the fusillade with bolts of violet-tinted explosive light.
Stanley Padgett	<J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "It's not about confidence, Padgett." <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "How would an intolerable teenager say it?" <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "AoE, let the single target do their job?" <J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "Trust the sea monster experts." <J-IC-Scene> Stanley Padgett hup. "Full force out of the gate, then."     Cannons roar. Seas boil. People die. Harpoonists and boats alike, evaporating in a boiling writhing mass of watery death. Stanley's false confidence a few moments ago over the radio fizzles away like dandelion fluff against a hurricane wind. The pit of his stomach churns. "No, hell really is empty. I should have stuck with Theseus."     Aiden is presented with armor, and Stanley isn't going to disappoint there either. His fencing tabard shimmers in over the top of the wet suit in a digital haze, before he pulls the rebreather down over his face. "Sorry, Your Majesty, next time the words will be mine, I promise. See you soon!" And with a flutter of cloth and a flash of steel, Stanley steps over the side. <J-IC-Scene> Ishirou says, "The smaller ships are being shreded, far too fast too! Their crews need to be evacuated to larger ships if you can spare the time!"     And immediately starts to skip across the surface of the monsters, for there are far too many of them to say there is clear water anywhere close to dance across. But he is fast and he can do fast and if he can't be in there are the fore smashing demons to pieces, he can damn well save those who have been doing that their whole lives.     Dead until proven otherwise? Stanley will making it his goal tonight to prove that a lot. Trust the sea monster experts? Rescue them all, Stanley Padgett.
Rena	Rena's palms itch as she waits, looking into the distance (now without the iGoggles). She can see, with no detail, the battle beginning far ahead, and she's anxious. If she's being honest, she likes no part of this. Rena is not used to working with so many people; she's never seen an army like this in her life. She's not used to fighting on the water. And waiting is hard, but she has no way to charge forward even if she wants to, as she certainly isn't going to swim in *this* water. It's a weird combination of anticipation and terror, if she's being honest. She manages to keep the terror off her face, though not all the anxiety. Rena wipes her hand on her hip, through the jacket - "GET DOW--" Rena gets down. She's fast - not inhumanly fast, just regular human-fast, but she's battle-tested and she knows how to take cover. She hears something (bullets? are these biomechanical too?) hit the deck near her, the side she's hiding behind, before they explode. Chaos erupts. She feels something zip past her head close enough to ruffle her hair. Only then does she pop back up. For all her anxiety about the situation, Rena shows no fear at all when she vaults up, her boot impacting a shark's flank as it half-climbs, half-is forced onboard by sheer volume of meat, uses it to spring herself further upward, and begins to fire. Rena's weird technological gun is revealed, a moment later, as a sonic cannon. In an expanding circle around her, little fragments of paint or rust vibrate right off the metal of the deck, accompanied by a loud but not painful thrum - but almost all of the force is directed in a broad cone forward, shaking the very air with enough force that the vibration is *visible*, a heat haze of disturbance accompanied with a piercing howling sound for anything in it that isn't immediately deafened by the assault. Rena fires it three times to try to clear a momentary gap, slides forward, and fires it downward off the side of the ship, at an angle. The Busan is not in the cone, but monster meat sure is. She can fire it one-handed, and with her other hand she draws a grenade from one of the duster's pockets, manages to pull the pin with her thumb in exactly the way you're not supposed to and throws it as far as she can into the water. There's nothing she can do for the other ships right now, and it's a struggle to realize that. It hurts; she's never had to fail like that before. She's not a one-woman army without her tank, merely a one-woman combat squad. But she can do her damnedest to keep them off this one, and with a yell that is inaudible behind the sonic cannon, Rena tries to do just that.
Aidan Proudpick	Like a good scrub, Aidan knows one trick. Oh sure, he's TRIED to pick up new tricks, but he always falls back on that one trick. Making barriers. Wind walls and arrows. He has never fought an entire army at once. Oh sure, he's been in a BATTLE. He's had a few skirmishes with the Empire. But never anything like this. It's a dawning realization that even with his shield, he MIGHT be able to plow a hole straight through those beasts. The thought occurs to him. Rush down there like squirrel artillery. Worse yet, Aidan has to watch people die enmasse. Watching boats get carved up by beasts. He takes a step forward out of reflex. To dive right down there. 'And do what?' That train of thought is interrupted by Sarracenia. He looks down at the armor thrust into his hands, then over at Sarracenia. He scrutinizes her face briefly, looking for any stray emotions. A dig at Lillian. No. No, this isn't, is it. A grand smile spreads over Aidan's face as the Piranha Plant helps him bolt on the chest piece. Aidan slaps the helmet on, snapping the leather strap into place, then grins at Sarracenia. "Thanks." He says, geniunely, only to pause, and correct himself, "Thank you, Princess." He gives a slight bow. Not enough to show reverence, but to at least respect her station exists. "And you are right. I should be a proper Knight out there." He gives Sarracenia a brief salute, smiling over at Stanley. "You got this." Then he leaps over the edge of the boat. His body quickly accustoms itself to the weight of the armor. Arms and legs spread wide. His tail acts like a rudder, piloting this way and that, all to aim himself towards the fishing boats. He hefts the Breath Weapon Aegis forward and in front of him, letting it widen into full size with but a single rush of breath. "LEAVE THEM ALONE!" The Lion's Head roars to life, mouth and eyes rushing out with energy, sending Aidan hurtling like a comet at the beasts. Air rushes around him as the squirrel speeds up, propelled by the shield. It burns red, flickering around the squirrel. Then the air itself begins to bend, to whine. A cone of air ripples behind Aidan until- BA-BOOM! He and the shield plow into the sea monsters to give the fishers a fighting chance.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine leaps into action as the tide of monsters crests Union Busan's decks. Sprays of blood herald her passage across the front-line as she spreads out her attacks, striking more to cripple and maim rather than to simply kill. A gaggle of crustaceans, many of them missing limbs from her assault, converge on her - and she is gone, the decoy left in her place torn to shreds in seconds. She falls like a thunderbolt from an upper deck, caving in a lobster-thing's head and driving her spear into a gap in another's shell.     As she fights she works her way toward the elite harpoonists on deck. Some kind of tentacled shark hurls itself forward over the railing toward Sonia, and Madeleine intercepts it with a knee strike directly to one of its bulging eyes. Brune finishes the creature with a mighty blow, and Madeleine pauses her assault for a split second of eye contact with each of the pair.     Madeleine ponders the duo as she fights, her movements in battle flowing like a river with little need for conscious direction. Humans were perplexing, sometimes. Their frailty and short time in this world only seemed to inspire them to live more boldly, and to strive all the harder to give their existence meaning. An immortal could never be so careless. Time and again Madeleine has seen humans fight with everything they have against all odds and against the bleakest of fates.     And she has seen them *win*.
Candy	Candelario; have one of your friends spot for Rita, and we both know why.     "Yeah," says Candy flatly, gravely, nodding once. *If any of you see him give her so much as a funny look, you buy me some time. Even if I'm 'broke.'* Dangerous! Bad! *Tough shit.* Don't try to pace yourself; we're already at the final sprint. *See?* War always looks worse up close.     Part of Candy wants to chastise himself for not being more ready--for mythologizing, or whatever trick of the mind had conspired to repaint his past experiences. For every corrido telling stories of gallantry in times of war, there is a real, unflattering, bloody event behind it. He knows, deep down, that every triumphant taking of this hill, or that church, or this town, is built on the backs of bodies; lives, taken quickly and ignominiously, without care for the dire transgression of the act.     The other part of him is ready to hit the deck, from the first instant of that bellowed warning. His stomach strikes uncompromising metal. Then, the explosions happen. For Candy-- --there is silence, after the first two or three. The comfort he usually takes in this silence is hollow and cold. Beside him, Sea Monkey is frozen in a backwards stagger. Spread out below, above, all around, are teeth. Candy gets up, turns to face Sea Monkey, and rips the 'tooth' free of her helmet, hoping that she survived the initial impact. He turns and tosses it with superhuman strength; it flies, quickly, then halts after scarcely an inch, as if waiting for permission to continue. Though it's daytime, the armor plates on his suit are radiant for the wrong reasons, reflecting distorted images of explosions suspended in time. He gives a quick glance over to the Manhattan, to Clark, then to Rita. Just making sure. *There's gonna be a lot of that.*     Time resumes; chaos reigns on the deck. Sea Monkey's cracked visor seems to forcibly eject the 'tooth' before it detonates, flinging it safely overboard, but Candy isn't looking to see if she survived having her helmet pierced. Another few seconds pass, his eyes frantically scanning the battlefield as his mind holds a finger over a very costly button.     Slavering jaws, grasping tentacles and beaks skeletonize fishing boats--but Ishirou's OPTIONS are on the way. He turns, towards the shape of the whale, as explosions rock the ship and rattle his chest. Candy shouts and hurls the spear. He can't muster the sort of force that Lilian and Rita could, but he has help.     As it sails through the air towards Vajra, the weapon's magical imbuement agitates the sea with its passing. The water which the monsters depend on becomes their enemy; the wake of the spear creates highly pressurized, wafer thin ribbons of seawater that shred skin and bone alike. When its trajectory ends and its obsidian tip touches the water, the sea seems to briefly implode around it.     In the blink of an eye, Candy is away from the garden dome and onto the maindeck proper, surrounded by several boxes of supplies and heralded with the cacophony of temporally-compressed construction.
Kukuru	Kukuru knows she doesn't have to worry as much about catching corpses with Kale's airship and crew ready to retrieve the injured and dead. She still does, even though she knows that won't matter if this mission fails, but those worries seem just a little more distant when she sees so many of her allies, close family members, distant family members, and family friends coming to face the menace presented by the end of the world. She sees Hibiki going towards the front, and she diverts some nanites that way. There's a lot of those little things flowing around today, and Kukuru even made sure to eat more than she usually does to keep the blood flowing, keep the calories high, fuel more of those nanites to keep reproducing and replace the ones that are going to be lost later. "If I have to." Kukuru repeats after Gebura, wrinkling her nose distastefully before sighing. She knows he's going to be useful for this battle, even if he won't be later. "Gotta prioritize just like Lili said, mhm." Kana's interrupted question is one Kukuru's already prepared to say yes to. "Hmm? Oh, of co-" She only manages to smile and start to answer when something surfaces, and the warning is cut off by the Busan's deck getting struck head on by the one designated Vajra. There isn't enough time to sort out who and isn't getting hurt already, and the impact knocks her right on her ass in a brief daze that gives her just enough time to realize she doesn't have enough time to figure out who to heal at first. Everyone needs healing right now. Everyone's getting hurt, but despite her desire and declaration to save everyone, even Kukuru knows that isn't possible in the way she'd like. There just isn't enough time, and spreading her nanites too thin to those that would just fall from one little bite would just be dooming the operation to failure. They're counting on her not to let them fall, and she feels her heart sinking as she realizes what she has to do. It might not be the nicest thing to do, but... She has to prioritize. She has to play favorites, if anyone's going to be able to get through this alive and save those that aren't after the fact. The nanites flow in a pale green cloud, floating out briefly before shooting outwards to those bearing the brunt of the first waves of bodies. Sea Monkey needs to live at least a little longer than this. Sonia needs her arms working so Brune can fight without clouded vision. Bota and Kana, too, get their own pre-surge of nanites to keep that adrenaline flowing and to help them shrug off lesser injuries that would otherwise bleed too much. Rita's too far to tend to right now, but Kukuru knows where she is. She can reach her quickly enough later, and heading closer into the fray means she can keep an eye on Rita along with everyone else up front.
Kukuru	Red Giant's arrival is explosive, and that gets Kukuru's attention easily. Big as he is, she doesn't know how much he can take. She makes sure he can take more. Dynsomia's presence is grand enough that it's only a matter of time before she becomes a target of the sea monsters as well. Kukuru's nanites feed her enough juice to make sure she can boil even more of them until that happens. Nonon's endurance is impressive in that armor, but Kukuru still has to worry about making sure she can outlast the EGO armor rather than the other way around. Madeleine is a new face, but she shows promise in fighting so hard for these people she might not even know. Kukuru throws plenty of nanites her way to make sure that she can see more of that promise later. Rena's face is a new one as well, but Kukuru doesn't have to think about whether or not she's someone to prioritize or not. She just is. Candy is close enough to Sea Monkey that Kukuru doesn't even have to redirect the nanites too far to keep him juiced up as well. She might not know what it is he's doing, but she knows he's doing it well enough that she doesn't need to worry past that. Hibiki's presence is a given, and Kukuru knows just how much danger she's willing to throw herself into. With enough quantity, the nanites will make sure she's able to keep throwing herself forward even longer. This is already getting to be a huge drain on Kukuru despite her prep. Too far, too many. As much as she hates to admit it, she still needs to recharge, and she'll have to count on Tamamo, Petra, and Ishirou to support Lilian for the time being while moving into a better position herself. It's a calculated risk, but Kukuru is already devouring one of those meat bars as she makes her way closer to the front of the spearhead that's crashing into all those sea monsters.
Meika Kirenai	<J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "AoE, let the single target do their job?"     "A-oey? That's- Oh! The gamer term!" A momentary bright satisfaction, in recognizing an unexplained acronym. "That makes sense. That's- that's a good plan. I'm..." Vermillion looks down at her hockey stick's blade, its temporary metal filligree reflecting the bright caustics of her summoned-up magic. "...I'm definitely A-oey, aha..." At least it worked, last time. That was the problem.     Vermillion holds her breath, as the distant fighting starts. The time between it, and what's coming, is too short- and drags on like eternity. Her hand lets go of the railing she's been clutching, and-     A small percussive blast of her sound magic knocks her a dozen meters up and away from the hull, poorly dodging the rain of spikes the second she spots them start to fly in. Raising her gauntlet-covered arms to cover her face doesn't do much- they plink and crack against her armor, and only when the needle-like tips of them puncture and stick does Vermillion's magic get the chance to pop them like balloons- even as they themselves do so too. She cries out- but it's only visible on her face, sound doesn't escape. How many seconds? Will it be a wave like last time? Will I-     "° Vermillion Thunder : Crack the Sky !°"     The words don't come naturally, still, but they do come unnoticed. Vermillion turns, midair- and falls off to her left, clutching her hockey stick with both hands. It's just a moment to build momentum, before the waves part for the ceaseless hordes.     As she bends her plummet into a sky-tearing curve, as the aura surrounding her grows brighter and far, far louder, drumming off the hollow spaces of the Union Busan's hull, she skirts the rim of ever-encroaching monsters, and makes contact like an artillery barrage.     Well. 'Contact' is at best an approximation. Static charges don't need direct touch to snap-exchange energy, and nor does Vermillion's built-up nova of sound. Each clash from her is like a cracking peal of thunder, compressed to a single instant- the wreath of red energy pours out of the magical girl in droves, with force enough to drag air with it. Each sea-monster that gets close enough becomes just another point of contact, another transmission vector, even as their innards emulsify. Onwards and onwards, faster and more violent the denser the sea monsters climbing up the hull pack themselves.     That her magic is so violently red, is appropriate, for the sheen she's painting on the Union Busan's hull. This time, at least, Vermillion remembers to close her eyes, and keep them that way. The clearer, the better. Guard who's got the puck. Just get them to the goal. Squint-shut eyes still feel the splatter, and Vermillion can only hope the rushing wind will take care of it.     "This won't stop, will it..?" Vermillion's answer carries on the wind easily, between breaths, between gore-erupting dives into the fray. Blows and teeth marks she takes are numbed by the pressure of building up that resonance within her, but it's hard to tell whose blood is what. "That's- that's fine, right? I can do this forever. Who can't..."
Petra Soroka	<J-IC-Scene> Lilian Rook says, "Don't get killed."     That being the last thing Petra hears from the radio, before it's replaced with the tense conversation, shouts, and churning ocean of only whatever's nearby, is enough to calm her nerves. It's an order, so she'll follow it. And it's a little bit of acknowledgement, too, that she'll be useful here: 'get killed', rather than passively risking 'dying'. A little bit of treatment as a soldier goes a long way for Petra. "Though I'll remember if nothin' else."     "Mmm." Petra hums, turning over the comparison between word of mouth and journalistic record in her mind. Coincidentally, her thoughts also drift to the girl she'd be spending that reward of PTO on; she imagines excitedly retelling it to Cinder, though in a moment of failure to generate creativity, the scene in her mind is set at Applebee's, for the second time. 'There were billions, really, like a solid mass of them filling the ocean as far as we could see...' Petra snorts quietly to herself. It sounds like one of Captain Hook's stories, really.     "I guess... yeah. More of us we get back, the more word of mouths there are to spread, haha." In addition to Petra's own recording, though no matter how mobile Pence is in the air, a battlefield that spans the horizon just can't be captured by it alone. Especially not when Rita is given a wide berth by the cameras, recorded only through implicit refusal to record, in the channels of dark red seawater she's carved and the unnatural discord of the sea monsters conflicted at her presence. "But no matter what, we--"     By sheer coincidence, at the angle that Pillar of Creation hangs readily in her hand, one of Vajra's teeth impales itself on the end, very nearly knocking it out of her hands from that alone. She stumbles, and ducks, avoiding the following volley of teeth but putting herself right near the tip of the spear when the skewered one detonates. She's knocked flat, explosion blunted concussive by her EGO but still solid enough to feel like a punch to her entire front, jaw-aching.     She's only scrambled to her knees by the time the leviathans surge over the side of the boat, not steady enough to stand and fight and not mobile enough to back up. Fumbling at her belt for her transteam gun, process made slower by trying to slip it out of wet leather instead of her absent mirror, she manages to point it up and over her head just as the monsters are starting to reach her and pull the trigger.     Glittering-dark steam pours out, tumbling to obscure her like weighted smoke, before exploding outwards to pulverize the monsters just about to swarm her. Clad in black and pale-yellow armor, morphmetal rivulets running down from channels in her shoulders, Petra as Sting Silver swings Pillar of Creation in both of her claw-gauntleted hands, spearblade cutting through swathes of monsters to at-best compare to half a Nonon.
Petra Soroka	Behind her, a two-thirds halo of morphmetal rings the air at chest height, stretching like razor wire to slow down any possible monsters coming at her out of sight. With the area in front cleared by a STEAM BREAK from the transteam rifle, an explosive line that sends the monsters flying, Petra takes a look around to assess how everyone's doing. The army of chibi-Harpoonists is still jarring to be confronted with, as well as the infinite hordes of cute, colorful monsters, but what makes it even more jarring is the one, exactly-as-normal-looking girl skating through the air detonating hundreds of them at once. Petra stares blankly at Meika, like the one human actor in a muppets episode, and then processes the reason why shortly.     That feels like another thing that's not polite to look at, for Petra, even though Meika actually told her about it already. Or, told her somewhat, at least-- it's still off-putting to see it herself. Choosing to look anywhere else, she squints through her mask at the purple cloud floating through the air, surrounded by cartoonish depictions of dragon heads and claws, with a glowing impression of a face in the center of the fog. "... What the hell is that?"
Hibiki Tachibana	Tachibana; do your job.     "...I know what I'm here to do. Don't worry."     The response comes after Hibiki has already left the Busan; after she's already on the deck of one of the small fishing craft. The weight of that responsibility is overwhelming. Looking out at the sheer amount of creatures ahead of them, it's heavier than ever. Even her 'best' isn't enough to put more than a temporary gap in the tide that'll get filled back in within seconds.     Her 'best' isn't even enough to save these few couple boats, but she nevertheless makes hop after hop, making sure each doomed vessel has at least one talisman between themselves. Something to give them even the most minor of spare moments when the time comes. It's not just for the sake of her own conscience. Every second - every little hope - counts.     When they hit the tide, her blood still runs cold.     In the next instant, Hibiki is at the front of the ship she's currently on, manually ripping back the hydraulics in one gauntlet so that when she throws her fist forward into the onrushing mass of bodies, the following /slam/ entirely eradicates everything for several meters in front of it. It barely matters. Once the mines are overcome, they'll be coming in from all sides.     "Hold on tight!" She's not gentle with how she grabs at every crewmember she can get her arms around. Wind will be knocked out of them, there'll be bruising. But it's necessary to get her grip on them tight, scoop them up, and hit a running sprint down the length of the undersized fishing rig to leap off of its back. All the way back to the Union Busan.     The landing is messy. Hibiki tumbles, diverts most of the force to her own body, and has to leave her passengers where she lands on the combat-filled deck of the flagship. "You dropped your payload, so you did your job! Don't give up on living that easily!" That's all she can do for them right now. She's already breaking away to fight her way across the chaotic Busan, shoulders a beast near Brume away so he can focus on continuing to protect Sonia--     She can see everyone fighting their hardest. Trying their hardest. Rita isn't holding anything back. Dysnomia isn't either. Even Lilian, past all of her feelings, she knows how strained she has to be.     --and physically bulldozes a dozen more out of the way and back overboard, so she can leap back out to another suicidal boat. If those talismans let even one survive for long enough for her to get to them too, then that's enough for her.     But that's all she'll be able to do, if even that. It hurts. Every second is painful. Every scream strikes her somewhere deep. But she has to do it. Even if it's only in the single digits. That'll be enough to keep her going for the real fighting ahead.
Lilian Rook	The air whistles, and Lilian reacts from spinal reflex to the sound. A quarter circle step away from the shriek lets a barb streak past her side, a kick back from the deck dodges one that lands where she stood, and a sharp reversal of course carries her back towards the first; the sound is all at once, so she intuits a carpet burst and not continuous fire. A fraction of a second later, something like-unlike intuition catches up to her, and she draws Night Mist in the same motion as cutting a sweeping circle around her, lopping the upper halves off the closest barbs just before they react and detonate. She crouches and shelters her eyes behind her arm from the further blasts, shaking the deck and whipping at her hair.     'Vajra, Seventh Devil.'     "Tch. I'd hoped-- No, it must have been sharing the Queen's territory all along. Otherwise it'd have reached us before, or Rita would have taken it out." Lilian spits, standing back up. "With a name like that, of course it's her bodyguard." she says, as if forgetting that humans must have come up with it.     'The boats that have the remaining crew from the Akroma are struggling! They need anyone who can be spared to get them out and get them to a more sturdy ship!'     §You could do it. You could do it safely, and make it look easy. You're the best one to do it. But you said you wouldn't. And you shouldn't. That'd be 'minutes' you'll need later. Don't forget the crossing. You're not stupid. It's already twice as bad as that, and you're not thrice as strong as then. Let someone else do it. If you don't believe in your own instructions, who else will?§     The shaking sigh passes just before the monsters arrive. Lilian is braced again by the timing of the second impact. The OPTION arriving at her location along with the use of blessings and talismans means she can begin right away; a task to focus on immediately. Inwardly, the last thing she thinks about before clearing too much mental room to idly contemplate, is that she's glad she can't hear them this time.     Lilian closes her eyes and thrusts out both hands. Palms against the invisible wall of her reach, her armoured fingers softly tick with the precise motions required to reach, grasp, and pull what only she can visualize. Rings within rings of black-gold un/light, subtly seething and crackling, bleed into existence as if absorbed through a layer of thin air.     Twisting her wrists, swiping her hands, flicking her fingers, Lilian shuffles and rearranges them into partially overlapping stacks. Intuitively tactile gestures clench and grip, pull and push, flick and snap together, as if working something precisely mechanical, though it is magic that pulses out of her each second, on the dot. When examined in that density, the appearance of runic calligraphy; suitable magical characters and designs; is merely incidental. The air is gouged vantablack and seared infragold by every other trailing finger, scarring the math of her private logic into the array.     The flow of energy on the upper deck increases multiplicatively with each second. The more that's poured in, the larger, stronger, more definite, the magical assembly becomes. All the way up until it reaches the limit of what Lilian can hold; in mind, in spirit, in terms of skill.
Lilian Rook	Then a second pair of §hands?§, both instinctively identical and nonvisually perceptible, begin drawing new circles and dragging additional pieces out of space. Bright energy from another time. Dark voids of where it was seized from here, until it reaches another plateau, no longer that dense assemblage Lilian can keep in front of her, but a curved wall ahead of her.     And then the mirror-black plates burst from her hands up to the wrist, and one more pair much larger than hers, reach 'through', from 'there' to 'here', with a bassy thud of instantly displaced air. Fingers broken into a hundred pieces, guided by the trailing fragments of wrists suggesting arms; black metal-skin and flashes of dull, dusty golden core, like unbandaged cuts, sign and draw and cast the largest circles of power, finally fully surrounding Lilian with a continuous halo of dark-bright magic pinned into precariously stable form.     Like completing a circuit, the last design locking into place causes one to turn, and the rest to follow in wave-like cumulative sequence. Fitting, that the last time she did this was fighting Rita over the Semitone; outdoing herself to this degree versus Rita's mortal enemy is just like her.     Without looking, Lilian slices her hand level across her right side, and the sacred geometry flares up at her touch. Along a perfectly drawn arc, out from her position aboard the Union Busan, the churning froth of a thousand bodies splits visually down the middle, disjoints, then violently snaps back, and same-hued distortion flashes out along the entire plane of collapse; a thin, perfect line that splits apart flesh and water, and leaves the smoking two to fall two centimeters out of brand new thin-air.     It's least effective near the ship. The nature of an arc means the destruction is most widespread out to its edge. There are countless defenders to repel the boarders, and so Lilian has evidently chosen to maximize the clearance she can generate for the Busan.     A conductor's diagonal down slash cleaves a wave of leviathans from the port prow, only to be replaced by another in seconds. §Her§ hand claws and drags down through the air, and a field of meteoric lines streaks from above and perforates an entire region of water out to starboard. Lilian gestures sharply out ahead, and shears through the ocean surface from the prow. Something else slams both hands together in time with her, and thin-air marbles, sparks, and blows apart; a point distortion hurls chaotically flayed mass far away from a million twisted micro-vacuums.     This magic is usually reserved for a finishing blow. Using it over and over again is only permissible by the grace of several other Elites. But there's still absolutely no way she can defend herself from Vajra like this; if her focus lapses, the invested energy will collapse. It's a lot, for her, to trust anyone else with.
Rita Ma	Bota's like a whirlwind, economy of footwork and volume of blows making his reach a bubble of calm in the storm- no wonder Kana likes working with him. Kana herself is almost impossible to track, a flutter of loose sleeves and a snowstorm of sunspots-glinting-off-blades that heralds searing clean bisection. Off in the distance, Clark Miller holds his own on Manhattan's prow, painting flowing brushstrokes with his spear in red-and-blue blood.      They're used to this. But even they aren't used to this.      Mia's briefly fired upon by other ships' deck guns before they realize she isn't with the Queen- even if they don't know what she is, they don't have time to waste on anything that isn't an immediate threat.      The rescue efforts for the Akroma boatsmen go surprisingly well- Akroma's harpoonists had fully resigned themselves to dying like their sunken home, but they won't turn down a chance to live. A good handful of them are able to cling to Vortex's cargo hook, and the electrocuting mines and the general onslaught keeps the monsters mostly clear for Hibiki.      Rescue operations are interrupted by Vajra, pursued by Lobotomy Corp's serpentine dragon, briefly surfacing to fire another volley of explosive squirming 'teeth', shredding through the garden dome and threatening to do the same to Vortex and Sarracenia's airship. Candy's spear dazes it with the aquatic pressure wave, and then Rita's dragon and metal-finned sharks plow it under for an unseen struggle. Knowing the Devils it probably isn't done for.      Sea Monkey pries herself up from the deck, spared by Candy's quick thinking, and gurgles while ripping off her broken helmet. The blood from her temple blends with her red hair; she grabs for her gun and enfilades the monsters crawling over the rail. Brune imitates Red Giant's moves in miniature and pulverizes the monster chewing on Sonia. She pulls her arm free and is astonished to see it intact (again), though Shajo will have to be contented with breathless thanks. The two of them form up around Lilian as protective sub-Heathers, intuitively sensing her total focus on offense.      The wholesale coordinated slaughter, 'AoE' and otherwise, slicks the deck a vivid purplish-red. Blood like water cascades down the sides of the Busan, polluting the sea and turning even the white foam a sickly pink. Meika's question gets an unspoken answer: no.      But annihilating the monsters ahead with esoteric breath and blade, then smoothing the way with barriers, provides a momentary reprieve. For several long seconds, the Busan makes smooth forward progress. How many miles are left to go? How many minutes has it been already? It feels impossible to keep track.
Rita Ma	The radio is a fugue of attrition, impossible to wrap your head around. "--Sao Paolo's engines are--" "--New Jersey can't extinguish--" "--frontal losses at fifty--" "--need resupply on--" "--captain overboard!--" "--Manhattan compartments flooding--"      It is going very badly. It is going as planned.      Then something big strikes the Union Busan from below, just off-center. The entire ship lurches and tilts- fifteen, thirty, nearly forty-five degrees. People fall off the blood-slicked deck and barely cling on at the railings, or find former walls to stand on for stability.      At first it seems like it must be the Queen. But no. A pale rounded shape looms up beneath the ocean's surface as it strains to capsize the Busan. Sunlight talismans flare and scorch its skin, but it's too big for them to sear deeply enough.      'Vajra' is a symbol of power; the scepter of deities. This is a mythical symbol of a different kind: the white whale. The name 'Gordic' bubbles up through panicked cries on the radio. Five Devils were accounted for. This is the Queen's last card. Manhattan opens fire on it, but so close to the Busan they can't use their missiles, and their guns don't draw blood.      Kana and Bota make a split second of eye contact. He nods, and she sprints uphill, vaults the railing, and slides down the Union Busan's tilting side towards Gordic. But the water down there still froths with snapping monsters. Surely she can't plan to handle it all by herself.
Ishirou	Ishirou gets some warning about the whale before it crashes into the Union Busan, just enough to warn them to brace, but not enough to avoid the strike.  Not that they could even if they tried with everything being thrown at them.  Ishirou has a new priority, given that the Union Busan /has/ to make it.  He drives away from rescue efforts, which were more or less complete enough.   Teeth are shot at him, but he manages to fly higher, letting gravity work for him this time.  It makes for some very close calls, but not enough to directly hit the RESCUE itself.  He dives down, swapping gear from flight to underwater, and jumps in after Bota and Kana.  He stays at a distance but supports the two by firing a barrage of torpedoes at the monster, aiming to catch it from where they aren't hitting.   While all of this is happening, Lilian gets another surge of energy through her OPTION, as he keeps up with his instructions the best that he can.  Energy and data, every bit of telemetry he has to help make sure she can keep swinging at them, to try and put a dent in these numbers... All they need is to get the Busan to where it needs to go..!  Data also is sent to Bota and Kana, trying to make it so they know just where to send their spears.  Every bit of time counts against these foes, and the less time they can take killing them the more they can focus on getting the bombs where they need to go.
Sarracenia	Sarracenia nods to Aidan's bow, and pauses a moment before returning his salute. "You're welcome." she says. Only to nearly fall over as her ship and the rest of her fleet is rocked by those symbiotic teeth explosions. Each and every ship is hit, and flaming wooden planks rain down below. "Heads up!" she calls over the radio to whoever might hear her.      Every ship in the Sundew armada now has several more entrances than before. But, this is actually an opportunity! The call goes out for rescue and retrieval of those on the small boats below, and in formation the entire V of wooden airships lowers down so that hundreds of ropes can be lowered down. The ropes are quite long and the ships are now low enough that they can hover above those quickly shredded boats to let survivors grab on and be quickly hoisted up by crews of piranha plant sailors above. Or used by Stanley (or anyone else) as another way to move about the battlefield.      The Sundew Sovereign, also sporting some new windows, continues its efforts at clearing the way with that giant Bullet Bill cannon, and the rain of cannonfire from the broadsides of the dozens of ships continues. From her spot above, Sarra has a great view of all the amazing things the others are doing. She feels kind of powerless compared to the others. Sure, she has a bunch of airships, but she doesn't really have that flash, that power, that the others below have.      It makes her think of that time a few years back when she went to Lilian's world to get qualified to fight Antigents. That power rating stone had shown almost nothing for her. And even in the practical skills tests she didn't do well at all without her hammer and other items.      Of course, looking down at the battlefield brings reality to the forefront as well. So many people down there...dying. Sarra has been a bit out of the loop so she doesn't entirely understand just what is going on with this world, but if this many people are dying just to try and stop this Queen...how much worse will it be if they fail?      Another wave of exploding teeth, and the Sundew armada is even more breezy than before. A large number of them are looking like they can't take another volley like that, and Sarracenia and her plant men are really not equipped to stop that kind of firepower.      Or...maybe they are! Sarracenia gives the command, and the giant cannon on the underside of the Sundew Sovereign takes aim at Vajra. They can't really fire on Gordic without risking hitting the Busan. But, they can fire a proper Bonzai Bill at Vajra! There's a loud KA-THUNK as the massive shark-faced projectile is loaded in to place, then with an even louder KABOOM it launches. Unlike the Bullet Bills this one has a yellow spinner on the back and flies just a bit slower.      It tracks its target relentlessly, and when it hits...the explosion is pretty massive! Shrapnel from the outer shell pelts the creature, then a series of explosions go off with a staccato like a machine gun firing, followed by a final bigger explosion that leaves a proper mushroom cloud!
Kale Hearthward	The Union Busan gets hit, and tilts. Kale shouldn't show favoritism. The people on board are not any less expendable than those that are on any of the other ships. But... ... Well, there's the 'but', isn't there. Kale spares a bit of focus to cast another spell - a wind wall, acting as a soft cushion, stretched along the area of the Busan that those aboard are at risk of falling into - and then getting the East Wind to swoop in and pull out any that have fallen. Those alive get dropped unceremonisously back on deck. Those that are merely intact get ushered into the East Wind's interior. Those that are not both 'alive' and 'intact'... There's not much to be done for them.
Aidan Proudpick	Aidan ripples through the water, crashing into the seabeasts. The shield pays little attention to inertia, or water resistance. Or the bouyance of a creature. As teeth and tentace slice up along Aidan's side, he RIPS through the beast, plowing through ichor and gore. He comes out the other side, muscles and tendons and viscera coming with him, mixing with his own blood. The shield keeps the water away from his face, but that air is going to get stale quick. He has to stop, then awkwardly swim in the water. He has a moment to see what he plowed into. Creatures with faces, human teeth, or eyes where they shouldn't be, too many eyes. Terror fills his heart. A stray tentacle, large enough of a creature to hardly register him as more than a minnow, sweeps along his leg. The muscles of the tentacle reflexively pull around. Aidan had never considered how fragile his bones could be before his tibia and several small but important bones in his feet simply snap. All the air in Aidan's lungs bubbles out in a cry of pain. Shouts go out over the radio. <RADIO>: Kayoko Kirenai says, "There's people's lives at risk. 'Trying' isn't enough." Aidan gets his shield up in front of him, letting himself focus only on the act of survival. Again, the Aegis flares to life. Again, his ascent from the water ignores foolish and weak laws of physics like 'water resistance' and 'inertia' and 'the rider is being held by a limb'. 'Thankfully' Aidan's foot stays attached, more crackling of bones as it slips free. He breaches the water, trying not to think of the limbs of those he failed to save as he comes above. Only the Vajra. The many eyes, those potent missiles. Pain shoots up Aidan's leg at every movement. He pulls it in and up, trying to hold the pose as he orients himself. In a coffee shop, the mouse and Kale's Crewmember Hazelthistle and Aidan sits across a table. "So. You going to show them?" Aidan slaps the Burning Sun Talisman to the front of his shield. The kanji on it burns to life before flaring into a brilliant yellow. It's a brilliant yellow flash on the front of the bludgeoning comet crashing into the Vajra. "I said... LEAVE THEM ALONE!"
Angela	Shajo has little more time than to give Sonia a nod. He has Four HP Bullets left but he is saving them for people who could use it because if he dies, the other Agents know to take it and start using them instead. He doesn't consider it pacing himself, he considers it saving them for those who actually will need it. The next Agent to die is Sammy. Angela sees them knocked off the Union Busan and in agonizing slow motion is torn apart by sea beasts. They wanted to make their mother proud but she passed away while Sammy was still stuck in the Time Loop. SIX DISCIPLINARY TEAM MEMBERS LEFT! She instead turns her attention to watch Petra henshin. It is a welcome breather for her in the battlefield but before long Shajo's positioning pulls her away from being bale to watch. Nonon grins at Petra in the moment. She finishes the sentence over the Lobotomy Corp comms. "--We will live!" The Team takes it as a rallying cry rather than something she is specifically telling Petra. The team takes a breath--not a breather, they don't have time for a breather--and then the problems occur again. Wow, that's a biiiig fishie Dreaming Current tells Rita. Raaaar! Still as childlike. Nonon is about to head in one direction but she hears the name Gordric over the band and--- She sees it. A tear clears out the red and blue blood absolutely caking her body and it is not an unhappy tear. The Pallid Whale! No, not quite big enough, but almost... Must be Gordric. "Shajo, I'm going after it, don't follow!" Nonon shouts, running to meet up with Kana, flinging herself over the railing and sliding down with her, laughing because it's better than screaming. She brings her GasHarpoon up, and aims it as she moves. You served the wrong Queen! She aims for one of those glowing eyes and fires off her GasHarpoon, hoping to use that to bridge the gap. She'll worry about how to get back ONTO the Union Busan later! If she can get that hook in and pull herself towards the Whale she's going to keep on punching with that Gauntlet through thick and thin. "FUCK YOU I'M A WHALER!" She screams with fury and joy. Last time I didn't have EGO Gear, last time I didn't have EGO Gear!!" The other Agents focus on clearing the massing throng underneath as best they can. Not all of them have the best gear for beasts below. "Dealing with one Calamity for a Color would be a feat, but two..." Gebura murmurs to Angela who is only half listening. "This wouldn't have even been possible without Rita already." Shajo's axe probably can't puncture that whale's hide so instead he takes a break from fighting to lift the sailors up from the railing, helping pull them free back up to the boat, losing track of Bota for a moment. "Get 'em back up topside if you can't handle whale hide!" Shajo shouts.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Madeleine has the ill fortune of standing on the same side of Union Busan as Gordic's sudden attack. The deck slams into her, catapulting her through the air well past the other side of the ship. For a moment she hangs at the apex of the arc, just long enough see whereabouts she'll be landing. Deep inside the frothing mass of sea monsters. The huntress smiles; this is going to be *interesting*.     She crashes into the water spear-first, in a remarkably elegant dive given the circumstances. Batting a few monsters out of her path, she catches sight of her real target under the surface - Vajra. Madeleine catches the dorsal fin of a passing Sharkticon and rides it down, under the waves and toward the colossus. She pushes forward off the cyborg shark-monster and into Vajra's path.     By the time Vajra surfaces again, it's skewered another decoy on its 'beak' and Madeleine is clinging to the rim of Vajra's armored maw. Her entire front side is sprayed with blood as she rams her spear into the gap between tentacle and shell again and again, probing for nerves or ligaments which, if severed, might hinder the creature's next explosive barrage.
Kukuru	With her breath caught and the meat bar already starting to work its magic, Kukuru's able to get her nanites flowing again. She refocuses on those she wasn't able to aid before, throwing out even more of those nanites and spreading them indiscriminately while chastising herself for what she had done moments ago in being selective. Of course she has to save everyone. That's what she promised, after all, and Kukuru isn't willing to let go of that so easily. With things seeming to settle down for a moment, she's even able to start throwing out those nanites more indiscriminately to aid those that she didn't have a chance to heal earlier. The way everything settles isn't enough to convince Kukuru to drop her guard like she had done mistakenly just a few nights ago, however, and she's already shoveling more bars into her face to get ready for the next wave.She can't really trust the radio with so much extra chatter coming from the other ships, too, and her heart aches at knowing she can't go to aid them. Not yet. The Busan needs to break through, or those ships are dead anyway. Telling herself that doesn't make the ache go away, though, but it's certainly easier to forget about them when the Union Busan lurches from that impact from below with a more immediate threat. When people start to slide off the deck, Kukuru doesn't try to chase after any of them. She'd be wasting her time getting one, and then she'd be spending more time and effort trying to heal everyone else she ignored. Instead, she starts healing them all now. The nanites continue bursting outwards until she's pushed them all out of her body, letting the swarm of regenerating bits attach to so many people she doesn't even know the names and faces of. She doesn't need them all to survive, of course, as long as they can fight and keep those sea monsters off of those making that downwards charge at Gordic itself. The food isn't enough to have the nanites regenerate naturally in time to keep up with what Kukuru needs. She forces them to draw from herself instead, using her blood, using her body to sustain and duplicate themselves, all to add yet more layers of healing and power to those ablative warriors that might only be remembered in Pence's recordings outside of this world.
Rena	Rena lands. Even when she's not firing the sonic cannon in her hands, she feels the tingle of the vibration there; too much, too fast. She's not sure if the weapon is overloading or if she's just shaken her hands so much that the nerves are giving her phantom tingles, but either way she swings it back behind her and refixes it on the harness she's wearing. Coming back up with a pair of grenades, Rena pulls one and then the other with her teeth, blanketing part of the deck with a blast of cryogenic gas and then a different part - empty of humans - with a stinking, stinging gas. And then she sees something. Rena lets out a sharp whistle and starts to run across the deck even as it begins to tip. Ten degrees, and she can still run. Thirty, and she's more skidding than anything else. Forty-five, and she can't *not* skid - When Rena said she couldn't get her tank on board, she was entirely truthful. But she never mentioned anything else, nor did she mention the Dog System (no relation to Pochi) that lets her vehicles drive autonomously, to a known waypoint - or, in this particular case, to the locator shoved in her pocket. So a goddamn motorcycle - blue, Harley-like, and with several weapons bolted on in a manner to make Mad Max enthusiasts proud - tears across the deck of the Union Butan, going downhill and picking up speed, directly toward Rena. Rena vaults onto it mid-skid 'downhill' in a single practiced movement, banks it about twenty degrees and opens up with the heavy machine gun mounted forward. It looks like she's firing near Lilian but she's firing *past* Lilian, an arc of bullets to keep clamberers away from her that she holds down the trigger for until it needs to cycle. But it *also* means Rena suddenly has back-mounted weapons. Back-mounted weapons that were originally designed for a tank. She hadn't brought them out against the swarm because, frankly, they're not very good weapons against a swarm; her sonic cannon was a better choice. But they are a *perfect* choice for a single hard target in the water, and that's what she's using them at. The vertical-launch Sea Hunter motorcycle-to-air-to-underwater missile-torpedoes fire a trio of missiles straight up... and they arc *backwards*, dropping at Gordic as it hefts the entire ship upwards. The Manhattan can't use its missiles. Rena *can* use hers; she's used them in closer proximity than this. Overriding the automatic reloaders, Rena repeats the process, dropping another trio before it should have cycled from the first - then a third, though the missile tubes are steaming afterwards, water that splashes on the bottom of the tube bubbling immediately. Rena does not expect this to kill Gordic, not immediately - she's only trying to convince it to duck to stop the missiles from landing on its head. Rena herself is still driving forward (she doesn't have a whole lot of choice) - but if Lilian, Brune, or Sonia need a lift, she's about to pass by them. Though without her sidecar, she can only really take one. "HOP ON," she yells, without being clear about which one she means.
Dysnomia	Dysnomia feels the strikes from the other ships, momentarily pausing in her work to assess them, but it doesn't seem to do much to her. It's like striking a cloud, or smoke, the displaced air drawn back in as it passes. Solid when she wants to maim something, but wispy and insubstantial when it doesn't.     She's grateful, when they stop. When their intent to harm stops battering at her will. This will already be hard enough. Her body shivers and shifts.     It's difficult to track her movement. At first, it seems like idle twisting of the colorful fog and claws that Dysnomia released. But, the magnitude quickly revealed itself to be too much. It was like like she flew, and more like she flowed, like a stream overflooding its river banks and forming a new tributary. Her body arced down through the air into the Union Busan--no, through the union Busan--her shapeless head emerging from its side, beneath Kana.     "Let me be your bridge," Dysnomia's offer resonated through Kana's mind, and if she lands, she'll find her footing on her back strangely solid. Her maw opened wide, and she slammed into Gordic with incredible force, digging into it with her teeth(?), struggling to push it away from the Busan, or at least buy a few precious seconds.     Wispy limbs, halfway between tentacles and claws opened up underneath her, preemptively carving into the hungry monsters leaping up to get a taste of Kana, whipping wildly with limbs that burn with white-hot plasma that could carve through sea monster flesh like bony putty as she turns herself into a first-class Kana-delivery system!
Stanley Padgett	Stanley and Mercutio gleam like green fire as the Fool scampers from Busan to escort to the Sundew and back again, with as many souls as he can carry. Each time, there are more and more to carry, more and more that aren't there by the time he gets back.     And he keeps crossing paths with Hibiki, each time he scampers out across the water, enough that he's starting to share counts. "Four to the north!" "There's three more over there!" He's strong enough that he can start taking more than two at a time, but that's not going to last forever. Thankfully, Sarracenia wasn't lying when she said there would more ropes than he needed to get back up on deck. And one by one, those Harpoonists, the sailors who weren't ready to give up, will find themselves aboard Her Majesties ship.     Until tragedy. The White Whale. Gordic. Stanley pivots from his trip out to another boat, over the tops of monsters, to dash for the Busan. It's listing, there's no way there won't be people overboard. And if they're in the water, in THIS water, there's a hard time limit in seconds to help. <J-IC-Scene> Stanley Padgett says, "HIBIKI, THE BUSAN." <J-IC-Scene> Hibiki Tachibana says, "I'm coming--!" <J-IC-Scene> Redshift Operators | Red Giant says, "Expose tendons." Orders given, orders recieved. Stanley wheels in place, Mercutio rises up, and the Fencer flashes forward across the waves. Green fire and digital haze in his tracks as he burns himself, going full throttle into the side of Gordic, Mercutio's massive longsword slashing toxic gouges into the thick hide of the Whale. "SHOVE OFF! TOXICRON!" And Stanley levels his flintlock, blasting a raging torrent of poisons inside of the beast, trying to loosen it up for more attacks.
Redshift Operators	Amidst all the combat, even the precognitive has trouble predicting the unexpected turnabout. Why wasn't this whale's attack clear in the thread of fate? That might be a mystery forever. But the Redshifts only have a few seconds before the impact to brace. "Hold on-- heavy impact!!" They hold tight as the ship is thrown and the deck rocks chaotically. They slam back onto it and roll chaotically, bruising and battering, but the giant is more alert than he's ever been. He punches a hole into it, snatching up the others as they tumble. "Fuck! Bastard's trying to capsize us!!" "Hold on! Hold on, don't let go!" "We need an approach! We don't have anything *big enough* for that!" "...We have the Busan." "The hell are you talking about?" "It's grappling. We need to grapple back." "I'll get on the radio with the bridge." "Expose tendons."     They could try to harpoon this creature. They could try to lash something around it. But how long would that take? How many people would die? Maybe in this case, there is enough cabling already. This monster... is so huge. So, so huge. And as spoken by a wise man idolized by the leader of the Redshifts, that means its insides have to scale the same way. "I'm covering! Move, move!!" The gunman leader slides to the rails of the deck with the marksman astronaut, and both open up wildly on the remaining deck-side monsters.     The ninja and the giant begin to fall, the latter snatching stray heavy cabling from the Busan as he does, and swinging it -- first forward, then entirely around the bow of the Busan. The ninja darts forward, zig-zagging aerially through monsters and smashed debris and the capsizing side of the Union Busan with a trail of red light behind her, struggling to carve Gordic's flesh and hoping that the others will do so as well. They've called out for help, for exposing of the tendons.     The tendons for a creature this size must scale with it. They must be so deeply connected, so widely rooted, as to effectively allow grip between the muscles and the skeleton. And the giant rushes to land in the gore and violence, and snatch an armful of likely near-human-sized tendon.     "Angle rudders port, hard reverse, *right now*, full circle and resume the course!" The astronaut still at the rails calls out, between marksman blasts. If the plan was right, if the idea was sound, and if the massive giant has enough personal strength... Then it'll be a judo maneuver that involves Red Giant effectively hoisting the entire whale all at once. It should turn Union Busan's capsizing into a gigantic, cable-and-tendon judo maneuver that flips Gordic over entirely, grinds Union Busan's turbines against its face, and swirls them around 360 degrees to resume their charge towards the bombing zone.     If all that works, if Gordic can keep up the assault after something like that, that'll be all hope lost. Won't it?
Meika Kirenai	Mid-air as she is, the impact that echoes out from the Union Busan is felt through its percussion washing over her, not the underfoot lurch surely felt by those on board and on deck. Vermillion *thinks*, just for that first second, that maybe it's been her that was hit- with the ship's list taking her sense of direction and perspective with it- until harpoonists start to fall into the water. Her heart falls with them-     It's not the first time falling's been a danger to those she's fighting to protect. And it's not the first time that there's been too little time, attention, or any other factor to pick them up and carry them to safety herself. Nothing Chevalier Vermillion can do is the kind of helpful, peaceful rescue magic that'd help in a clean and good way, but that's not to say she can't do anything. "I'm sorry! This is going to hurt!"     Vermillion's voice carries, whether the dangling and mid-air harpoonists can process thoughts enough to make sense of it- but in the fractional moments between speaking, she's already launching volleys of ethereal, shimmery needle-like shards of sound at them, pinning them to the metal of the ship. Each shard hurts, on impact and momentum-shuft and for each infintessimal moment longer it sits intangibly through flesh, but it doesn't draw blood.     She hopes, prays they react enough in the moment she can give them, to make their own handholds, to buy their next seconds themselves. Because with the endless hordes below, with the blows of the horrific white whale, seconds are hard to come by.     Kana's dive, intentional as it is, is shocking enough for Vermillion not to throw a spike of sound her way. The teeming depths below her are all too full of teeth- Vermillion can't help her impending fight with Gordic in any significant way, but the hordes she's been fending off on the hull are no different than the hordes beneath the waves. The magical girl dives, too- "I'll help clear you a path-! Be careful, please!" Not careful from the monsters- from her magic.     Right. There is a difference, actually. It's worse for them, beneath the waves. Vermillion's magic is akin to thunder in air, but closer to bombs at the water's surface. When she's close enough to inflict that plague of body-jumping sound, water roils, and jumps, and *recoils* at the force. Bones and flesh hit resonance frequencies, meat risks becoming more like a slurry. Vermillion doesn't dare dip even the blade of her skate into the water, as the red of her magic pours into the pink of the water.
Petra Soroka	". . . for once, I need to ask you to help me first and support whoever else you can second."     This wasn't actually directed at Petra. Petra wasn't even given any specific instruction other than to avoid being killed, though the density of leviathans swarming over the deck is so much that she could be fighting without break without even moving ten feet from where she's standing, so the need for directions is less than usual. No matter how much she prefers having them.     When Lilian stands still, diagrams of arcane circles being traced out in concentric radii around her, Petra very quickly decides that there's a kind of help that Tamamo provides, and a kind of help that Petra provides, and that right now Lilian would be best off with both. Matching Brune and Sonia as subheathers, Petra pulls up a rippling sheet of morphmetal in the air in front of her, sweeping her halo around and spreading it flat. The transteam gun, trigger held down and spewing smoke, is drawn in a level arc against the wall, the quicksilver absorbing the smoke and crumpling inwards around it. When the arc is complete, gun held straight out by her side, Petra releases the trigger, and the morphmetal explodes out in a cone of charged flechettes, crackling with the same energy that fuels her transformation.     The plastic gun's gritty shoutout of SILVER STEAM sounds a bit like 'shut UP, Heather!', as said by green to yellow. With a wide spread of leviathans turned to purple-red scrap and gore from the attack, Petra passive-aggressively positions herself in front and between Brune and Sonia, claiming implicit priority among 'those who defend Lilian'.     This is where the Cognition Filter becomes a detriment, rather than a benefit. Not in combat, even though the revision of the sea monsters as cute does dull her fear-instinct to survive occasionally, and the goggles aren't entirely accurate about portraying the most threatening and grotesque aspects of their physiology, but that's nothing she can't compensate for by forcing herself to fight even harder. No, the problem is, that *Lilian* became chibified too, as does her magic, and Petra feels deeply robbed by the result. Up in the air, small enough to have avoided Vajra's missiles and sturdy enough to withstand anything not directed clearly at it, Pence takes some time to focus on recording Lilian, unaffected by the cognition filter.
Petra Soroka	Gordic slams into the hull, and Petra, despite the catastrophic tilt of the ship, maintains her footing. She even runs across the incline without slipping as it pitches, scooping up Brune or Sonia if either of them fell first, then scattering globules of morphmetal that stretch into pillars to grab as anchors for anyone else. Once steadied, Petra gives Lilian one more look to make sure she's clear to do her own work, whipping out her spear while sliding her hand down its haft for more reach to bisect one last monster that wasn't knocked off by Gordic's impact, before she scampers up the slope of the deck herself too.     Vaulting up over the railing, a pulse from the jets in her armored boots gets Petra the rest of the way to Gordic. Landing on the whale beside Nonon, as support and as a ride back when Gordic starts sinking below the water again, Petra lands fist-first in solidarity with Nonon's gauntlets. Blunt punches might be ineffective against the Devil's tough skin, especially compared to the spear Petra also has, but even besides the fact that her own gauntlets are spiked with ridges of black armor strong enough to puncture an inch deep, she's got a reason for it even besides the fact that it looks really cool, and makes her feel like she looks really cool.     Veins of morphmetal down her arm pulse with heavier flow, draining over her fist and down her knuckles, jabbing deep into Gordic as a spike carrying all of her momentum from the punch. When she pulls back, that spike of morphmetal peels down its length inside the whale's flesh, iron filament-like shredded scraps of surface forming backwards-facing hooks, buried inside like barbs. Enhanced strength from the armor lets her heave up to standing and tear it all out, gouging a car-sized cavity out of its head where she landed, which hangs on her fist by the spike still skewered a dozen feet through.
Candy	The ship lists onerously to the side. Candy's assembled supplies tumble end over end, over half of the crates shattering as their contents splash into and sink below bloodied water. "FUCK!" Another spear is formed, just in time to dig into the deck as the farmer slides down it. Sparks strike up as the weapon is buried into the deck, halting his descent.      One box is caught, awkwardly, by the corner, plated gauntlets digging in so hard as to set the grains of wood creaking. The thundering of Manhattan's guns rises above the chaotic din of battle. *Half the parts for the gun just went into the fucking drink. But maybe with these I can still do something.*      The suit's exoskeleton makes it possible--but not easy. With a determined growl that steadily grows into a shout, Candy draws the box closer. One hand brings it up, falters, then both legs wrap protectively around it. His fist smashes through the lid, digs inside, and procures a live artillery shell. A turbine at the back of his armor spins up, and a pair of back-mounted rockets carries him up the slanted deck with the shell in tow, tucked under his free arm as the spear is wrenched free of the deck.      From his position above the listing ship, Candy drops the shell. The tip of his replacement spear is wreathed in fire-- *All-out. Right.* Candy puts his augmented strength to use, lowering himself so that he's level with the frozen shell. Hovering over a frozen sea; a portrait of carnage, he places both hands on it and moves them as if to spin it, hard. Then, he strikes the copper plate at the base of the shell with a haymaker punch--      The shell rockets forward, on a trajectory for the mass of monsters between Rita and the Busan. After a second of airtime, it detonates. A spread of playing cards is flung from the burst munition; each one sharp as steel and impossibly hot, yet maintaining their shape without even burning.      Swooping down for a pass between the Busan and the Manhattan, Candy holds the spear in both hands, as a near-constant stream of fire is spewed from its point--to match the stream of adrenaline-fueled profanity escaping from his lips.
Combaticon	"There it is again!" The Eigth Devil surfaces again. Blastoff wheels around in midair, a turn impossible for human pilots, and rockets in its direction. The beast is already beset upon as it fires off another wave of spiked, exploding teeth. A pair of harpoon missiles are fired before he swings away, trailing explosions all over again. The smoke plume in his wake grows that much darker.     He throws himself into a roll, shedding shards of Cybertronian metal and smoldering components, "These exploding spikes are really kicking my can up here, can we do something about this guy?" The turn puts him on approach to the Buson--     Vortex swings around, tilting forward and ascending with her human cargo while using her body and her rotors as a shield against the second spine barrage. One impacts the crimson glass just beneath the arc of her blades, blasting out the window and revealing the complete lack of a pilot despite the pained sound from the vehicle.     Wheeling about, Vortex sails clear of the Buson, dropping her rescue-ees off on the roaring Manhattan instead. There really is no ship here that is 'safe', so 'afloat' will have to do, and a battleship might just be a little more likely to survive than something else.     Onslaught's guns smoke from the most recent barrage, examining the results; adjusting his aim. Spent power cell casings eject like old artillery cartridges, clanging on the Union Buson's deck, forming two neat little piles of black and purple refuse. > "Union Buson! From below-- Brace!"     Without hesitation, there's a loud KACHUNK and hisses of steam from the anchors stabilizing the blue and green artillery truck. Even that isn't enough to keep his back end from sliding when the vessel is slammed into and the deck tilts to an almost irrecoverable angle. Tires squeal, carving black lines of burned rubber in concentric arcs. The rusted metal supporting his left-side anchor tears, twisting the entire truck across the deck as he strains to resist gravity.     When the right-side anchor's docking plate twists free of the deck entirely, Onslaught gives up on vehicle mode entirely. The truck smashes through the railing in the middle of conversion, fast enough for the Decepticon to take to the air, glowering down at the listing Union Buson.     Others are dealing with Gordic, he presumes that to be the name of the creature that's causing the list. So he will deal with the Buson itself. Raising a hand to his head, he taps his commlink.     "Chevalier Vermilion," the young girl who gives his Combaticons so much childish grief, "I will attempt to stabilize the Union Buson while others contend with the one causing this list. I will rely on you for cover. This will put me precariously close to the water." Her talents in this fight cannot be ignored.     With that message fired off, the Decepticon descends, whirls, and slams himself against the Buson's precariously leaning hull with all of his considerable strength. Bearing the weight across his back and shoulders, he deploys his blaster from his forearm once more to assist in protecting himself while pressing back against the ship's list.     On the other side, Blastoff dives low, strafing the great whale with a stream of autocannon fire before ascending up and away, "What do they even make these out of?!"
Hibiki Tachibana	'Better than expected' is already too greedy to get in a mess like this. Expectations so low even when the heart is set makes every single life saved feel like a rush of fortifying adrenaline, even when there's no guarantee things will stay that way. She'll have to thank Candy for the mines later, and the Combaticons when she has any spare breath to give. Any she has right now is already being expended with quick bursts of thanks to Stanley, every time he keeps her going where she needs to go.     And it's his warning that snaps her out of her haze of movement that leaves her able to crane her head up in the middle of one last evacuation, struggling to angle her landing on the Busan to one of the that the shift in angle has turned into a floor before offloading her cargo. "What the hell--"     It's a whale. After already running into one Devil, she hadn't thought there'd be another.     Her wide eyes aren't just from surprise, or fear though. With her heart pounding in her ears and her mind racing a mile a minute, the only thing in her head right at that moment is: what's the best way to make sure this damn thing doesn't take anyone else?     What that ends up being is moving off the 'ground' and sliding down the Busan's tilted deck, and get to the far side of the ship opposite of Gordic. Downhill. As soon as she clears the railing, rather than plummet down into the swarming ea below, Hibiki turns around and slams her hands into the Busan's hull hard enough that her fingers embed into metal. At the same time, the boosters on the back of her Symphogear's armor fire up.     She doesn't have anything to stand on for support, so raw thrust and strength will have to do. When what she has isn't enough, both gauntlets morph and scale up in size, trading out hydraulic pistons for oversized rocket turbines--which make one flaring blast of forward propulsion turn into three, all of which is put to use in directly fighting against the force that Gordic is trying to use to capsize the Busan by pushing against it from the opposite direction.     It's very simple. It also works, if only as a temporary stopgap to give the others time to deal with the white whale directly. When raw power is one of the only things she has to her name, she has no hesitation using it to try and force the ship to stay on track.     "Make... that two... who are gonna be wide open! I won't let this thing--send anyone else into that hell...!" Turns out Onslaught won't be alone in his attempt. Two is always better than one, and one can only hope it's enough.
Tamamo	Ordinarily, perhaps, using finishing attacks over and over wouldn't be possible. It's the nature of such a thing to leave someone drained after its use, or you wouldn't think of it as a finisher. Such would be open for a continuation, if one held back, but to exhaust oneself means that, toward one end or another, a 'finish' will be reached.     However...     One thing Tamamo has going for her is her sense of balance. Even as the ship tilts, she can leap, land, and continue climbing higher, sure-footed even when the deck shifts under her. Higher, now, and higher still, until she's as far above the waves as the Busan will allow her, as if she's only thinking to come closer to the sky. She reaches up a hand, and her wetsuit shifts as her outfit is again replaced, returning to the far more elaborate version of what she'd gifted the harpoonists, all those months ago. She reaches up to grasp the sun and draws down a point of light to her chest.     Of course, the Sun is still where it was, nearly straight above them.     A single, seemingly slow leap of fluttering cloth lands Tamamo down behind Lilian with a crash more in keeping with her actual speed, trailing pale gold in a long, thin arc and coming to a three-point landing, geta and finger-tips, one hand held high. Another moment has her behind her target, and she presses that contained light to the point of Lilian's armor beneath which she bears that Solar design.     There could hardly be any more direct connection than this, any more thoroughly prepared, even without mentioning the presence, aboard this same ship, of a shrine constructed to Tamamo's specifications. To someone whose blessings deal with drawing threads closer together, it matters.     "Truly, you are loved. Someday, I will carry these feelings to Her, as well. For now, let these carry you through."     There are a lot of other things happening, but they're notably less important to her than this is. It will all work out as long as Lilian can do what she wants, surely.
Lilian Rook	The OPTION is siphoned of an alarming amount of energy. Even though its primary job is to maximize efficiency, Lilian is drawing so much catalyst through it, as the bottleneck to the ambient energy it can collect, that she's at risk of burning it out all the way through. The talismans she could afford to place beforehand burn up one by one with each cast of her many hands §one for--§ It's clear by now that she'd even drawn a ley-circle, too, now searing holes into the grass of the garden done as it gathers what it can from the sea, now that the ship is moving so slowly it can work.     But her eyes are still closed. She's still surrounded by that cosmic belt of semisacred abstract machinery, and still fighting from a position only an ironclad vanguard can afford her. Vajra's attacks puncturing the dome is frightening, but Lilian has intentionally dissociated so deeply that she almost doesn't notice. She won't respond to anything but a direct causal relationship to immediate future harm, because she only has her eyes closed so that she can operate on pure precognitive instinct. She's filtered out the present and completely surrendered herself to the white-water flow of madly forking probability.     A twitched finger interdicts with a singular beam on Brune's behalf, a half-second before he was in mortal danger. Another on the opposite hand slices two Vajra projectiles seemingly arbitrarily from the air, aimed at the air fleet. §She§ arcs both hands dance-like two one side, and a rolling chain of popping flashes go off just under the water to the Union Busan's listing side, blowing up an enormous explosion of expanding steam that counterbalances a portion of its momentum. It swings a hammer blow down on the wave of bodies, briefly free to spill up its railing, visually fragmenting a flat plane of air with imaginary impact and spewing thousands of lethal shards of magically fractured spacetime into the rising tide.     Her heart rate spikes by twenty at Gorcic's appearance; the lines effervesce at their edges, then recohere. There are people here helping her. Some of the very few she trusts implicitly, and some she'd never expect. She'll process it later. She is dimly aware of Tamamo's warmth, Petra's determination, close by, the synaptic hum of Rita's psychic presence, and the pinprick Mors Caelorum, in the distance. Instinct bids her join force with Kana and Bota, and so she does.     "Six seconds. Twelve degrees. Thirty six hands. The white whale stays before the return of the diamond devil in . . . Got you."     At just the right moment, it decisively brings down a plunging knife gesture on Gordic Lilian vehemently twists it parallel with its flank, and §she§ lasciviously drags it along the Devil's glistening length. The air cleanly breaks along a diagonally vertical plane, and is wrenched wider, marbling sky and sea-spray within its bounds. Energy flows from the entire array, hissing, shrieking with the effort, grinding against itself and overheating, to emit a continuously massive ray of boiling light downwards into the whale Devil's upper side. Space breaks in clockwork increments to twist it sideways, and then fractures along a curving horizontal to slice the beam like the stroke of a sword. Whether or not she'd heard the requests to expose this and that, she's doing it.     True to her own word, she's burning every last drop of magic she has to plough forward, conserving only enough to take one more shot at Vajra. She can resort to ammunition after that. And then it'll be up to the stamina of her body and the tolerances of her wish to carry her.
Rita Ma	Kana slides down the Busan's blood-slicked side like she's skating, kicks smoothly off of it, and then uses her blood-lubricated boots to slide along Dysnomia's head too. Mia's lunge boosts Kana's momentum- and the compressed air flare of Kana's blades boosts Mia's, too!- but she leaps off and twists for an aquadynamic profile just before hitting the water. That lets her rocketing speed go directly into raking bloody slashes all the way down Gordic's side and mangling one flipper to fulfill Red Giant's request, just before Nonon impacts to gouge out the whale's eye.      That this strands Kana thirty feet underwater in the middle of the piranha-swarm doesn't seem to bother her. She either trusts Mia, Vermillion, or herself enormously. Naturally, she's right to do all three.      The Busan, stabilized by heroic effort, manages to achingly slowly make the wrenching maneuver that Red Dwarf calls for. The collective beating delivered to Gordic, and the lines hooked thoroughly into its flesh, all it can do is writhe uncoordinatedly as it's spun around into the propellers, lining up with the existing horrid gouge made by Lilian. The entire ship jars with a deafening crack-crunch. To anyone who's ever felled a redwood, the sound is familiar.      Kana wrenches herself up on Red Giant's cables to escape the same meatgrinder fate, and if needed, gives Nonon a hand up too.      Vajra tries to dive again. Among the sheer bulk of the Queen's other minions, that's a potent strategy: it can just emerge, fire, and disappear over and over. But it doesn't account for having other enemies beneath the waves. The bulky, one-eyed Semitone monster, nearly a match for Gordic in size, slams into it from below and forces it back up to the surface. There it's gouged by Madeleine, shot by Sarracenia's artillery, slammed and burned by Aidan and Tamamo-in-proxy, and finally blasted by Lilian's magic. It squirms in its death throes, and then the little spark of Mors Caelorum in the distance rakes its weakened body with a needle-thin eerie beam, and it 'splashes' apart like so much seawater.
Rita Ma	The defense of the Busan's deck is going surprisingly well, between Kukuru's healing and the efforts to keep people from sliding overboard. The extra manpower rescued from Akroma's boats makes it almost a sure thing, if still a nauseating crush of bodies that leaks human and monster blood like a squeezed orange leaks juice. Brune and Sea Monkey stay steadfast in their defense of Lilian, but Sonia hops into Rena's sidecar just on adventuresome instinct: "Where the hell are we going??"      The defense of the other ships might leave something to be desired. It's hard to see anything else through the smoke, and the radio transmissions are dying down. That's probably a bad sign in itself. But the dedicated efforts to clear the way ahead of the Busan let it forge forward almost smoothly still.      Rita entrusts the rainbow shark Abnormality to the care of her space-whale calves, which delicately levitate it into the air- the safest place to be, with Vajra gone. She herself soars on Lobotomy Corporation's serpentine dragon, ascending to a particular spot just ahead of the Busan and then circling in the air.      Bota intuitively takes the signal. "WE'RE HERE!" he yells, and wrenches his blade free of a monster to turn and wave up to the bridge. "GET THE BOMB DOORS OPEN!" And he leaps off the Busan's front to make it so.      But that's easier said than done. The door to its near-water-level cargo bay hinges forwards, and it's only a fraction of the way open- deploying the racks of bulky bombs any other way is a big ask. A press of sea monsters still holds it shut with their bodies, likely frantically coordinated by the Queen. The Busan's side-mounted giant flamethrowers fire to boil the water and ignite spilled oil on either flank, but that can't quite make the final push either. It's only a little bit more...
Ishirou	There is only so much energy that the OPTION can transfer, and Lilian is sucking so much more... and THEN some.  It's turning red hot, systems are starting to flatline, before it just EXPLODES.  The last of the energy it can give is sent, but the OPTION itself is gone due to being overloaded sending that energy and trying to optimize.   Ishirou can feel it, but is already in deep with the fight he's at right now and can't see what's going on directly.  All he knows is that Lilian is okay, but doesn't have time to send another option out.  Instead, he sends that energy into Kana, while she fights the giant sea monster, but... The monsters are trying to hold the bay doors closed.  Torpedoes fly out, trying to lessen the numbers around the bay doors that are trying to open, but it's like shooting into a wall of meat that just fixes itself... So instead, Ishirou reaches out, using his electromagnetic powers to try and grab one side of the doors, and PULLS with all of his might to try and open up that side, hoping that others can do the same to the other side.  It's going to take time, trying to force the doors open so that the payload can be released!   During all of this, another OPTION is sent out to Lilian, but it's going to take a moment for it to get there..!  More than that, he's forced into a tug-of-war with the bay door, and it's taking everything he has to not let go.  He sends a message out for support, and to let people know where help is needed right now.
Aidan Proudpick	The Aegis simply does not care about water. Vajra is not safe from Aidan underneath it. Though, Aidan isn't safe from IT either. As it explodes into Seawater, Aidan crashes down onto one of the wreckages of boats, panting. He quickly scrambles one leg onto it, dragging his other leg behind him. More searing pain lances up the limb. He turns his head away from the film of gore and body parts floating near by, those who haven't been dragged down as so much chum. Aidan cracks an eye towards the Busan. If he gets in there again, he may lose an entire limb. "Come back alive." "Trying isn't enough." Put everything into it. No pacing. No one said he had to come back whole. Struggling to stay conscious through the pain of his broken foot, Aidan grabs the edge of the boat, holding up his shield. He doens't need to be ablebodied to use it. He needs one arm and his lungs. He skims on the top of the water like a torpedo, energy pushing the water out and around, creating a great bow wave behind him as the sun ahead bears down on the beasts to simply shake one off the doors!
Kale Hearthward	Kale digs deep. He's been pushing hard, but he can't let up right now. Not right before the end. He unbuckles himself from the ship, and dives, sword drawn. "Periactus!" The drill sword spins up, and Kale goes to carve a path of destruction - trying to clear even just a little bit more of the mob so that the doors can open, darting between the literal incoming fire on one side and the sea monsters on another- I'm going to die here. Shake it off. This isn't the time to give up. Kale pushes further. Dive in, and then get back out. Repeat.
Dysnomia	Dysnomia's body quavered in the air as she felt Kana's intent, before the woman even hit the water. Dysnomia is many things, but aquatic she is not. She thought again of those harpoonists, watching the Union Busan close. She felt Kana, still burning with that same determination. To forge forward, even if she died.     No. Streaks of color wind down and into the water, as rear claws manifest to seize hold of the hull for leverage, leaving intents in the metal. Sea monsters tore through her as she reached. With every bite, pain recoiled through her soul, and she said; No. A great beast bisected her claw at the wrist, and Dysnomia's body roiled like jupiter's storms. No! A pack of eels seized her fingers, devouring them with uncanny, distended jaws. NO!     She trembled. Each time, she said 'no,' and her body became itself again. Each time, they would dig into her. Again and again. But the spark of Kana's determination--Her trust--Held like a lamp in the night, and at last, her claw seized hold of the cable she'd clung to.     With a sudden, sharp yank, she pulled the cable--And Kana--from the water, back into the air, before the gnashing jaws of the sea monsters could find her. "Reckless," she seethed at the Harpoonist, but Gordic was sinking beneath the waves, and the Union Busan persisted.     With a snort that shook the air her body, began to flow once more, this time into the Busan.     Her presence filled the bomb room, flooding with color. Tendrils of nebula pushed against the door, hard enough to make the metal bend. And they're all over; the bottom, the top. Even pushing through the gap, trying to shove aside the monsters blocking the path.
Combaticon	While Onslaught is stabilizing the Union Buson alongside Hibiki, the whale monster Gordic is handled by a combined effort from multiple angles. A new problem presents itself. With a buzz of frustration, the robot kicks himself free of the ship's hull and swings around, blue armor splattered with red. Spent capacitors are ejected from his blasters, either weapon twirled back into his forearms, then back out with a fresh magazine in place.     The Combaticon commander lays into the sea horrors currently assaulting his side's doors with bolts of violet-tinted light. Once he's calculated the safest way to clear them out without the blast radius risking the ship's explosive payload-- Onslaught's back cannons fire, arcing explosive artillery on twin parabolas right into the teeming mass.     "Vortex. Starboard side doors. Assist me."     "Already on my way!"     The damaged helicopter Vortex, having dropped off her human cargo, re-enters the fray. Soon, the rhythmic thrum of Onslaught's blasters is overtaken by the louder, persistent chatter of multiple turreted autocannons. Strafing from left to right and then left again, Vortex saws along the ship's side in a back-and-forth motion with all three gunpods, raining spent brass into the roiling sea beneath her. Like this, it's easy for anyone on board the Union Buson to see that the pilot's chair is empty.     Coming about in a pilot-pulverizing turn, Blastoff soars past overhead, dropping a series of small bombs. These explosions interrupt Onslaught's blaster fire as he shields his face and optics-- and he only floats back further when Vortex runs out of bullets and opens up with the rocket pods; mercifully, aimed at the water, not the hull, to pulverize any sea creatures trying to breach the surface.     They'll have to leave the port side to the others.
Rena	Rena fires another triple shot from the Sea Hunters once they've managed to cool enough that she feels safe doing so - this time not to make Gordic submerge, but to simply stun it while it grinds into the propellers. She *feels* that one through the motorcycle seat, up through the wheels. 'Where the hell are we going?' "Up!" is Rena's answer. She's brought the motorcycle around - now that the Busan isn't quite so tipped back she can maneuver a bit more easily. 'Easily' is relative, of course; the ship's damn near a floating city (it IS a floating city). There's no sidecar today so Sonia has to sit behind her, but there's enough room, at least. "Hold on!" Popping a wheelie, Rena drives recklessly up a flight of stairs, the bump-bump-bump of tires on steps familiar to her and more comfortable than the whole rest of this 'fighting on top of a ship' thing is. At the top she swerves, the motorcycle tilting as she skids it through a brutally sharp ninety degree turn to actually get going the direction she wants to: up near the front of one side of the ship. She has to make smaller maneuvers to avoid fallen people; Rena makes no such attempts to avoid driving over dead sea life, crushing them under Outlaw's wheels. "Behind you, there's a straight bar. Pull it when I say so. I'm going to do something stupid," Rena informs Sonia, about two seconds before she does something stupid: another wheelie, but this time she pops up *onto the railing of the Busan*, driving on a narrow bar thinner than the wheel on it, still driving on a single wheel. It's halfway to skateboard grinding, except she's doing it on the back wheel of a motorcycle while applying power to it. She should not be doing this. It's the only way she can actually lean forward enough to see the cargo bay doors. Rena's angle on the motorcycle lets her aim the lower-mounted missile launchers, down near her knees - not at a sea monster but at the doors. Better they be broken open than held closed, and she aims at the inside of the far door, trying to lock on in just a very specific way. As she does this, the Outlaw gets wobblier and wobblier, unable to keep grinding along the edge of the Busan, until: "PULL IT," Rena yells - and when Sonia does, the boosters on the back wheel fire, sending the whole motorcycle up in a ten-foot jump. At the apex of the jump, Rena fires, the missiles launching in a very specific pattern to try to smash the door open, blasting against the flood of sea life. A moment later, and the Outlaw lands on the deck itself, not the edge. Rena nearly spins out, but manages to recover from her impossible drive, straightening out and slowing down a bit.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	As Vajra falls to pieces around Madeleine, the huntress seizes the opportunity to dive into the gore-strewn water. A few deft kicks bring her to the center of its spreading entrails, and she shifts her focus from the physical world to the dispersing spiritual essence of the creature. As the smaller beasts flee the Semitone monster, she asks Vajra's remains a single, pointed question: "Where is the Queen?"     Moments later Madeleine is at the surface again, bounding from one floating monster corpse to the next back toward Union Busan. The great ship's flame-cannons open up on the tangle of monsters by the bay door, and Madeleine rushes heedlessly into the fire. She comes out the other side of the cloud of incendiaries like a meteor, crashing into the densely-packed beasts at the door itself. With no room to maneuver around one another the creatures are nearly helpless against her assault, and their shrieks are terrible as she assaults them with her spear and her own burning body.     Those elites with a view of her see a grisly sight at the center of the flames and spraying blood - a normal human would have immolated by now, but Madeleine is *still going*. Across every patch of exposed skin, her innate regeneration trades territory back and forth with charred flesh. The stars in her eyes shine brighter even than the burning oil that coats her wet-suit as she pushes the limit of her power. Only when Madeleine reaches the opposite side of the bay door, a path of seared and shattered bodies in her wake, does she finally dive into the water and douse the fire completely. More beasts rush in to replace the fallen, but the damage is done - so many now lie dead that the nearby monsters can only partially rebuild their flesh-barricade.     And after a long moment, Madeleine breaches the surface again. Gasping for breath as her charred skin smooths itself out and her hair regrows from nothing, she hurls a grappling hook up the side of the Union Busan and begins, slowly, to climb free of the bloodbath.
Kukuru	Somehow, someway, the Busan survives getting almost flipped the whole fuck over. Kukuru's healing push can't go out fast enough, but she does get another chance to breathe and recover as Bota calls out what she and many others have probably been waiting to here: They've reached their destination, and it's time to send the bombs in. It should be easy at this point, right? Not really. With the crush of monsters still trying to keep the bomb doors shut, Kukuru still can't quite relax even with the knowledge that the flamethrowers are broiling all those sea monsters alive. If anything, it's vaguely sickening to see so many throwing themselves at it just to keep it shut rather than trying to preserve their own lives. Even with her nanites eating her own body to fuel their replication, though, Kukuru can still teleport just as easily as she usually does. Joining Bota through a cloud that deposits her nearby, she fights off a painful shiver before turning her attention towards the door itself. "Too many... Pulling it open's gonna be such a pain even if they're..." Wait. Why pull it open at all? She might not have enough in her to get back to healing just yet, and trying to wade through the flamethrowers to tear apart the monsters would be a death sentence even for her, but Kukuru knows one other way she can still aid in getting those doors open. Another cloud appears behind her, and she falls backwards into it to reappear on the other side of the doors. Dysnomia won't be the only one trying to get the door open, as Kukuru starts pushing against it from the inside. She all but rams her claws' tips into the opening, gritting her teeth with never-before-seen exertion as she puts her all into wrenching those giant doors open with brute force. Her body resists her through the process, though, between all the prior activity in throwing out so many of her nanites out that those that have regenerated still aren't enough to keep up with the force she's putting into the door. She's out of meat bars. She'll just have to hope there's still some sea monster parts left once the door's open.
Meika Kirenai	'I will rely on you for cover. This will put me precariously close to the water.'     Picking out speech in the middle of this battle is painstakingly difficult- but Chevalier Vermillion recieves loud and eerily clear, like always. "Don't touch it! Seriously! I'm doing what I can, but- but you need to keep yourself-" Cracking an eye open is a bad idea, this close to the water's teeming froth, with all the teeth and fragments of chitin- both attached to sea monsters, and violently, explosively, deafeningly amputated from them flying to and fro. "Fine! Sure- just, I'm doing what I can, Mister!" Evidently, she's too distracted to come up with an insulting name for Onslaught.     Fending off the hordes underwater, without being underwater, is a challenge. Vermillion relies on the chaining nature of her sound magic to penetrate the surface, especially while Kana remains in the water nearby- and even once she's hauled free. She skirts the perimeter, circling and circling, doing her best to cordon off a wide enough to let the combatants who'd focused on Gordic try their best to get out safely. When she dips low enough to feel teeth wrap around her bad leg, Vermillion's face forms a scream-     The teeth sink in, cracking against the metal of her armored boots, crunching through- but the jaws they attach to no longer connect with a body. Interrupting the full force of her magic's flow vaporizes the back end of a sea monster, like the exit wound of a fist-sized bullet. Still, it takes a moment of her focus, adrenaline-fueled and staving off the onset of pain, to crack and pry the remnants of a sea monster's head from death-grip clamping around her limb.     She snaps it at the mandible, and pours her magic into it, instead- the dead sea monster's tissues being both ammunition to throw deep into the waves, and to carry the concussive force deeper and further in than otherwise. Vermillion isn't planning this out- it's an act of angry, instinct revenge, as her mid-air posture shifts to favor her other leg on habit and necessity both. As she tries to call up more of that sickening red glow, Vermillion starts to f-f-flicker at the edges with every heaving breath. Soon. The bombs are coming soon. Center's nearly there, the shot is lined up. Come on. Come on. You've done this a thousand times, it's just like-     Her stick's blade crushes through the chitin of a crab-like monstrosity, spiking it back down into the water and the pile of rushing monsters that turn the waves less-than-liquid. Each drop of blood trailing down her boot's cracked metal into the waves serves, too, both to pinken the water- and make it roil and seethe with angry amplified concussion. All vectors of touch, through air and liquid and solid, are a hazard. Even as the call comes to try and wrench open the bomb bay doors, Vermillion dawdles further from there, staying to stem what she can of an unceasing tide- It's fine. I've got this. I have so much more blood where that comes from. Aha..
Redshift Operators	Red Dwarf is breathlessly shouting over gunfire and monsters and metal screaming, "Almost! Almost!! We're so damn *close!!*" He and Neutron are running, and shortly overboard, jetpacking down and blasting away. They're joined fast by a bedraggled, strained White Dwarf and Red Giant, the former riding the latter like a vehicle. She leaps off to dive into the fray with the melee combatants, and he snatches up the pair that just jumped overboard, passing the hefty LMG that he's been carrying up to the gunman.     They all slam into the fray, hardsuit boots stomping over a thick floor of monster bodies. White Dwarf darts among the surface, running on water like one of her ninja shows, buoyed by diced flesh. Red Dwarf and Neutron grapple over Red Giant's shoulders, firing from either side with a light machinegun and a heavy-caliber rifle respectively. And Red Giant smashes his way through the horde, tiring and battered and bruised but still carving a bloody path with his hands. He yanks out teeth and chunks of bone, plunging them into other foes. He tears through flesh with horrible wrenching sounds. He gouges eyes and rips jaws apart.     He is beginning to slow down. The burning light in the newly-enhanced right side of his helmet is beginning to fade. But they're almost through. They're almost through. So close. Once he's Cleared a decent bit of space for himself, he shouts, "KEEP ME SAFE!" The others oblige as he starts to try to wrench the doors open himself, to simply crush the fish beyond, turning away from the horde for this final moment...
Lilian Rook	The metaphorical decapitation blows against Vajra is finally enough to exhaust the very last of the gigantic magical investment Lilian has prepared. The array of magical constructs, made to interface with esoteric mechanics, has been worn down to its absolute limits, and finally collapses as her magical output plummets below the minimum baseline to sustain the reaction. The leycircle scorches itself black and goes out. The last talisman in the ring burns to dust. She barely notices the OPTION exploding. She'd anticipated that.     Lilian's isn't the kind that is arbitrarily pulled from metabolic energy; she's exhausted mystical power, not physical, but she still drops to her knees, sweating from sheer exertion, and stares at the sky to catch her breath. The sky is the one place she doesn't have to see blood and destruction. It makes it no less hard to hear bedlam below.     §I should have brought Sword Unit. Arina and Satsuki would want to be here for Rita. Thirty or forty more bodies, plus those two; wouldn't that make a difference? Wouldn't they save many more people than just me? They could have killed hundreds of those things by now. Right now, they could be down on the deck, forcing those bay dors open. I know how good they are. I've trained them partly myself. But . . .§     Visions of the harpoonists dragged screaming overboard before she could even blink pass through her mind. Lilian swallows.     §I've been weak. I wonder . . . when was it that I started being afraid for people? It was so insidious that I didn't notice.§     Lilian hauls herself to her feet, wipes her brow, and quickly squeezes Tamamo's hand in the moment of breezing past her, checking over her shoulder to see that Petra-- even Brune and Sea Monkey-- are okay. Jogging, then sprinting, to the stockpile she'd left, Lilian snatches up and buckles the prepped MOLLE she'd left on top as she runs, and grabs a trailing case along with her. Leaping decks at a time to reach a clean view of the bay doors, she stands out in the open with Vajra gone, and makes for a blur of hiss-pop-click-slap-clack in the moment of retrieving and arming her old Immunes issue magnetic assault rifle, sidearm, and grenade canisters.     They feel unfamiliar to the touch. Cold and heavy and awkwardly shaped. Inarticulably wrong in some slight ergonomic way. She can't help but notice that the harness sits poorly on her armour, compared to her old combat skin. Or was it that her figure had changed?     Lilian shifts her grip and draws Winter Crow, settling the assault rifle into the crook of her arm and swiping up a row of grenades all at once; two rings for each finger, detonators armed in the same stroke. Casting them like seeds into the thrashing mess before the bomb bay, Lilian slids the assault rifle into a one-handed brace against her shoulder, checks the ¦¦¦x124 rendered in the holosights, extends Winter Crow at the full length of her reach, and stabilizes the rifle over her forearm.     The percussive whine of rapid automatic fire grates on her ears, but the strobe-flickering stream of off-white tracers is no less dangerous than it ever was, the weapon model up-powered for people with superhuman strength. The incendiary pop-shriek of Winter Crow, and its familiar magic circle muzzle flash, joins in on the same arc, throwing hot flashes of light against the cold tracer radiance, exploding where the custom-made bullets land. Pencil-thin charcoal black casings spew all over the deck, joined by the solid gold ejected with each burst of waste-aether from the handgun's action. Lilian isn't a gunfighter by any stretch, but it doesn't matter at all if she dual wields; she can't miss here.
Stanley Padgett	Gordic Falls.     Vajra Falls.     Stanley isn't dead.     The Busan rights itself, he can hear screams and calls for the doors to get open, to crack open the Busan so they can do their job. Stanley still has a job to get back to. The green flame flashes again, first to Hibiki, to give her a little high-five, and then Stanley is right back to recovery efforts. Kukuru shoved more of her nanites into the air to help stabilize those who tumbled from the Busan, and that's Stanley's next move, searching for anyone able to be saved in that mess, anyone who's still fighting and drawing breath.
Sarracenia	With the ships so close to falling out of the sky, the evacuation orders are given. All but a skeleton crew are told to leave, and each survivor that comes up is given a strange wing with a flashing yello P on it. They are told to squeeze it, and in a puff of smoke they are given raccoon ears and a tail, and that flashing P is on their chest.      Soon a cloud of flying people and plants are heading back toward the main land or the closest warp gate. The only catch is, even one damaging hit and they will revert back to their normal flightless form. It is somewhat risky, which is why Sarra hadn't been doing this from the start. But, maybe with the creatures now focusing so hard on the Busan they can manage it.      Vajra is down! A cheer goes up from the many crews of the Sundew airships! But, they aren't quite done yet! Those bombs still need to be deployed! Sarra brings the Sundew Sovereign around while the other ships continue bombarding as closely as they dare without hitting the Busan. That massive underside cannon swings around again, and Sarracenia leaps off the front of the ship just as it fires. She lands on the emerging giant Bullet Bill and rides it down, guiding it herself instead of letting the large shark-faced projectile guide itself. She brings it in to just above water level, and rides it in.      "Get out of THE WAY!" she exclaims, and leaps off the Bullet Bill just as it smashes into the gathering of monsters at the doors. She lands inside the doors with her huge hammer in hand. She grips it, then goes into a spin. Faster and faster she spins, and like some kind of battle top she closes in on the doors.      A series of heavy clangs follows as she attempts to just brute force the doors open. Each hammer hit leaves a head-sized indention in the doors, sending creatures flying back from the impacts and hopefully smashing those doors open. And since it is a team effort, she makes sure not to smash any of them! "Open uuuuuuup!"
Petra Soroka	Gordic starts to sink, becoming unsteady terrain even for Petra. Her morphmetal spike softens and snakes its way backwards out of the impaled chunk of the whale, climbing back up her gore-slicked arm, while the meat itself sags and then slops off, falling into the water with a splash. One arm of her suit is drenched up to the shoulder in purple ichor, splattered across her chest and mask, while the other is still black and silver with only streaks of blood from the battle on the deck.     These are the two hands offered to Nonon, when she needs a lift back to the Busan. "Um." Even in her armor, Petra is completely dwarfed by the other agent. Holding her arm out looks more like she's asking for uppies, than offering anything. "I'm, um. Strong. Enough. To get back."     With their size difference, the only way for Petra to conceivably hold Nonon securely enough to leap the distance back to the Busan's deck is by supporting her legs with one arm, and her back with the other-- making Nonon the *third* agent from Lobotomy Corporation that Petra has had in a princess carry. This, too, is caught on Pence's camera; Petra crouches and propels herself off of Gordic's torn bodymass, double, triple-jumping with Nonon held in her arms, to transport them both back onto the righted ship.     It's not that long that Petra stays on the deck before it's time to disembark again. She hooks the broken heel-arch of her boot over the railing of the front of the Busan at Bota's call, teetering on the edge with an exhaustedly reluctant expression beneath her mask. Muttering some acidic complaints about somehow managing to have lost every machine that would've made this so much easier, from the Kana, to the Beauty of Ash, to her own nearly-indestructible and certainly-not-threatened-by-drowning body, Petra holds out Pillar of Creation to her side, wobbles, and then dives over the edge herself.     Morphmetal sprays in a liquid crater at her impact with the monsters scrabbling at the bomb bay doors, shredding every one within arms reach before retracting like footage played in reverse. With a moment of an open-air bubble around her, Pillar of Creation gets swung at its full length, slowly but steadily maintaining and increasing the size of the pocket of space.     Quicksilver runs down the haft of the spear, before Petra rears back her arm and hurls it like a javelin, slicing ribbons of fishy blood through the entire line of monsters with which it connects. At the end of its trajectory, it halts midair, suspended by the telekinetic grip on the morphmetal clinging to it. In the same instant, Petra wheels around, affixing the rifle extension to the end of the transteam gun before squeezing the trigger. It charges for a second, the momentary gap in offensive pressure letting the leviathans regain some of the ground Petra fought to open, before the shining black-light beam lances out of the end of the gun, swirling with smoke that disintegrates monsters on contact.
Angela	Nonon punches and she punches. She doesn't even notice the grinder is coming, so focusedd is she on punishing Gordric. Nonon excels at inflicting violence but there's a reason why Shajo is the Team Captain despite being weaker than her in a fight--the longer a battle goes on, the more trouble (Using that Gauntlet lowers Temperence which lowers Work Success Rate (ie: Doing her job). Notably, it doesn't weaken her ability to murder at all so long as that's the only job she has to worry about! But this also means she doesn't really realize that she's about to become blended. Maybe she thinks that someone will rescue her too, like Kana or Petra--No this is just an effect of the Gold Rush. But she hasn't lost all reason and can pick up Petra's voice from nearby. Um. I'm, um. Strong. Enough. To get back.'' Nonon stops punching and looks to Petra. There's a faint haze in her eyes and gore across her face. Then she blinks and she REALLY sees Petra there. And, uh, the blender. "Oh...hell yeah. Yeah. Good idea." She lets herself be hupped up. Despite being as big as multiple Petras, Nonon likes the idea of being carried like a ~princess~. Once she's set down she says, "Thanks, Petra. See you in a bit." Shajo has gone from fighter to medic, expending two more HP Bullets to save two more lives. He's down to two HP Bullets and he's saving one for Nonon. Nonon doesn't look like she needs it yet, though. Almost all the blood caking her body belongs to other creatures. She uses her Gas Harpoon to spear critters from a distance for a spell. Dreaming Current is left behind but fortunately, Dreaming Current is used to being abandoned and doesn't think twice about it! But even if he wasn't, having baby whales nearby is enough to keep him chipper. Bye mommy! I'll protect them Chomp Chomp! Some monster pirahnas get too close and his teeth go CHOMP CHOMP CHOMP, his legs swinging around like a fin. Moments after he's too high up to bite much of anything. He's a little disappointed he doesn't get to impress mommy more with his shsark skills but he still says, I love you! with innocent authenticity. As Shajo and Nonon are busy and Tweed is still shooting stray sea creatures, Ceri and Max are the ones that make it present first. "I certainly don't have the upper body strength for this!" She swings with her axe all the same, cleaving through sea creatures while Max decides to test the strength of his BEAR PAWS, pushing with all his might to try and get those bay doors open, crack by crack. Angela sees Lilian now, taking a moment to look at the sky. Minutes for Angela. She sees her neck twitch with the muscular effort of swallowing. She has no idea what she is thinking, she can only guess so she just looks at her, for a moment, with an uncharacteristically sorrowful gaze, a little more obvious than normal even for her.
Candy	WE'RE HERE! <J-IC-Scene> Clark Miller sighs. "Finally." *It's not over yet.* GET THE BOMB DOORS OPEN! <J-IC-Scene> Ishirou says, "They're trying to jam the door, we need people to help clear the monsters left down here and help get the doors open!"     One moment, Candy is flying overhead, his spear spewing a near-constant lance of flame. The blink of an eye passes, and he's in the Busan. Sweat beads on his brow, and his chest heaves with exertion as he quickly takes an inventory of the bomb bay.     His breathing becomes labored as more supplies appear noisily around him. Candy leans on his spear for a moment.     Time stops, again. In the still silence of the bomb bay, Candy nearly loses his balance, as a nagging pain begins to stab at his temple. The size of the work order before him doesn't help. Still, he toils, hurrying despite the instant he's stretched impossibly thin.     Candy's hair falls to either side of his face, damp with sweat as he catches his breath. His panting is drowned out by the sounds of rapid assembly--four industrial grade motors, big and bulky and antiquated, then power up and add their significant torque to the bay doors.     "That's right," pants Candy. "You sons of bitches. Every pig has his Saturday." He is gone, the moment after, back to the maindeck, to keep an eye on Rita--and Clark.
Hibiki Tachibana	With Gordic handled and the Busan forced right once more, Hibiki throws a hand up to grab onto a railing and throws herself over it. It's unceremonious and messy, with her coming down on her side and panting for air while collapsed against the bloodied deck, barely sparing a second to briefly touch palms against Stanley's. One breath. Two breaths. Three, four, with eyes scrunched tight. That's all she allows herself before fingers scrabble against the surface, clench into a fist, and push against it so she can get herself back to her feet.     "...Not enough... this isn't even the hard part yet..." Her voice is low and only to herself, teeth grit painfully tight as the momentum from rising back up is immediately transfered into a forward sprint. "You still have something to do... before..." She picks up speed. And more speed, still.     The bomb doors aren't open. If they don't do something about that, coming all this way was for nothing. And every second they don't do that is another second they're at risk of being overrun.     And she'll make sure that there's s few sacrifices as possible in the process of everyone else doing their very hardest to get those doors open. All of her running speed becomes a fist smashing into another creature that has just crested onto the deck, turning it into a bruised projectile to send several others of its kind back into the crimson sea. It doesn't slow her down for a second. Another one she grabs while passing by, flipping it over so that her metal boot can come down center mass and pierce through.     Bit by bit, she works her way to the far end of the ship. And when she has nothing else on the deck to pummel through right this second, when she's out of surface to sprint through in a haze of adrenaline borne of clearing the way--     --does she momentarily collapse again against the rail, wince, and then push herself back off of it at another angle to help ease the weight off of more harpoonists. It's a neverending battle, as long as they're here. But that's fine by her.
Tamamo	If Tamamo could see the other ships from where she is, maybe she could do something about it. Rather, if she were able to move her focus to them, and she wasn't concentrating on supplying blessings to Lilian -- but since that isn't the case, this is all hypothetical. They'll have to pray for a less direct deliverance. By now, the press of leviathans below or around the reach of her ice barrier, if not the mass that avoided destruction between it, may have already restored their pressure.     A thousand little tragedies play out unseen, while her eyes are warm for the one only dimly aware of her. The dangers still closing in around her demand her attention.     And then Lilian is falling, and Tamamo is moving to catch her, heedless of everything beyond her reach -- which is fine, because even Petra was making herself useful in clearing space. It's only a moment, and then a squeeze of her hand in passing before her knight is away.
Rita Ma	Is it Candy's imagination, or does Clark make eye contact with him for a moment? Surely he can't notice Candy looking from that distance.      Rita's monsters move in eerie coordination to help with the doors. Sharkticons seize leviathans with their teeth and drag them away; that orange amoeba extrudes metal projections that become guns and rakes fire just above the waterline, stuttering it to avoid the protruding metal fins; the Tarrasque is a crude instrument, but it snaps with massive jaws from below every time the sharkticons pull back.      They're all parts of a single body. Rita barely seems to be in her own body at all. Anyone sharp-eyed enough to see her face, hundreds of feet in the air, notices her eyes glassy and head almost lolling.      Sonia, it turns out, is a screamer once the adrenaline wears off. She keeps one arm wrapped around Rena's waist, eyes screwed tightly shut, and cheek pressed into her back. "Oh god. Ohhhhh god-- I'm pulling it, okay?!"      Vast heroic effort manages to clear the way and wrench the door open. Engineers readying the bombs in the cargo bay stand in awe of Kukuru and Candy; Bota throws his back into it too, for what it might be worth. The door starts to creak open. "Come on! Almost... almost--"      ----      Clark unholsters the harpoon gun at his hip, aims through the smoke between ships, and fires a long burst at Candy from the Manhattan's deck.      A split second later, the Manhattan's main guns fire on Rita.      She doesn't see it coming. Her smoking body plummets from the dragon's coils, and her monsters disperse in the chaos. Clark throws his spear on a cable to impale her mid-fall and reel her in.      "Finally. I've been waiting for the second we didn't need you," almost no-one can hear him purr. And almost no-one can see her look strangely, blissfully relieved. "Did you know you're the closest thing to--"      Rita Ma says tightly, "I love you. I'll be safe."      Liza Grier for possibly the first time, transmits full on dead air for something close to ten seconds.      Liza Grier says, "Okay."      Liza Grier says, "You will. Right?"      Rita Ma sniffles softly. Smiling: "Okay."      She seems to remember something. The relief vanishes. Impaled through the chest, she still wraps a tentacle around his throat and starts to squeeze.      "Where is the Queen?"      Madeleine's haruspicy warns not long before Ishirou's sensors and White Dwarf's precognition do: Right beneath. Too close. Far too close.
Rita Ma	https://i.imgur.com/jpwuPiw.png      CRUNCH.      Vast tentacles, each individually as thick as a house, burst upwards and effortlessly gouge through meters of solid steel. Munitions and fuel cook off in their wake, to devastating impact on metal and little effect on flesh. Up on the bridge, every alarm goes off at once; nobody hears them over the deafening shriek of tortured metal. Huge portions of the main deck are simply gouged off, leaving the cargo bay with its bombs open to air.      The Queen could rip the Union Busan apart with the slightest flex. Even withdrawing would utterly doom it to sink. It might take a second to realize that the only reason she doesn't is to keep its bombs from sinking too.      "Ah. There." The voice is soundless, inside your head, but you know that if it were audible it would rattle in your bones.      A thick, incredibly durable fleshy webbing wraps around the cargo door, holding it shut even where the metal yields.      "I wondered when you'd finally take care of that little parasite."      Another house-thick tentacle punches up through the center of the now-open-roofed cargo bay, then grotesquely blossoms open. It forms into a shape that some people have seen before, at Akroma: a grotesque hybrid of a pregnant woman and a hammerhead shark, trading legs for a fleshy stem and arms for white-and-red tentacles.      "But even though you've been so kind, I can't show you any further mercy."      There is, after all, something of Lisa in the curl of her lips.
Angela	Even Gebura figured Clark Miller would have the sense to wait until after one Queen was down before going for another. She catches a look and says, "Mother fucker!" but it's too late. Nonon's heart sinks in her chest when she sees Rita impaled. She's tough. She's a big girl. She has fought bigger monsters than Clark Miller, but he's a human monster and that's different, isn't it? Nonon's eyes slant towards Candy but it's just a moment before she starts running to the side of her deck, aiming wit her harpoon-- Make a new horizon and follow it. Let it carry you She flings it, catching it against the Manhattan, near Clark, just near him. She tugs and reels herself in. Hold on Rita, hold on...Not again, not again. Break his fucking neck, Rita. Shajo can't follow but he can toss an HP Ampule Nonon's way. She catches it in her gauntlet carefully. Shajo now has one HP Ampule left. Nonon has the other. Nonon rides the line, swishing along and snapping it bck at the height of her arc, allowing momentum to carry the rest of her way as she throws herself at Clark Miller, swinging out Gold Rush to the side in an attempt to clothesline him to the floor. "EAT SHIT YOU LOW RENT STEVE ROGERS!" She shouts. "THAT'S RIGHT TENANT SHOWED ME YOUR MOVIE! IT WAS MID!!" She is very mad, you see. This is the first time anyone's seen her this mad. Or even mad, really. Usually she's smiling pretty. BUt now she has the perfect pirate scowl. In the distance, Dreaming Current flaps up and down in the air angrilly but they're too far. Mommy!! Let mommy go you meanie!! And yet another monster was still biding its time. Jenna, a rising star in Disciplinary who wanted to fight alongside a Legend and become a Legend herself is gored up through the center of her body, the two halves sliding apart neatly as the tentacle spears through the center of the cargo bay. If it's any consolation, she didn't even feel it. FIVE MEMBERS OF THE DISCIPLINARY TEAM LEFT. Ceri and Max are the closest to the Queen who arrives, heralded by a shower of Jenna's blood. "Fiend. You meet your end today. Avec pitie ou sans." Ceri says, readying her axe. Max doesn't have any fancy words. He's shivering in terror but he remembered to go to the bathroom before they left.
Candy	Pain is an uninvited guest, screaming at the front of Candy's mind from the moment he feels the rapid impact of several sharp points on his chest. The armor keeps the injury from being lethal--     "Cock SUCKER!" Everything is quiet, but for Candy's anguished shout. Why? *Don't tell me I'm fucking dying right at the finish line.* Candy clutches at the wounds. Is your faith in your own craftsmanship, in my guidance, so feeble? 'Buy me time, even if I'm broke.' These were your words. Candy stands up, shakily. The Busan is held in stasis, but one wouldn't know, to see the farmer's almost drunken stumble. It would sssseem Lilian cautioned you wisssely. *Yeah. No shit.* His eyes hurriedly sweep the eerily motionless horizon, across halted plumes of smoke, to the Manhattan--then, to its guns, mid-recoil, a blossom of smoke and fire hanging suspended an instant before it dies. *Rita!* ...is 'fine,' in a certain sense of the word. With a settling of his jaw, Candy decides on a course of action.     --but it doesn't do anything for the pain. Candy rises from the railing--and the next level up, and from the railing near the garden dome. Only the last one is the genuine article, the other two not quite right in the face or the hair, respectively. The last one wields a bolt action rifle.      Candy doesn't wait for Rita to release Clark, before he lines up the harpoonist in the notched sights and pulls the trigger.
Madeleine Cadrasteia	Dozens of immense tentacles crash upward through Union Busan. The chunk of railing Madeleine grappled onto goes flying away from the body of the ship, and the huntress curses as her line drags her along, hanging below and behind. Twisted scrap-metal bounces off the Manhattan's hull as Madeleine vanishes into the water. Sea monsters rapidly converge on her location, tearing at her form in a feeding frenzy... and coming away with only decoy plastic, as she makes her way up a ladder to the Manhattan's deck.     Madeleine's just coming over the top as Nonon rushes Clark, but her eyes are fixed on Rita, desperate to see any sign of life or hope. A gunshot rings out - the huntress takes the opportunity to leap for the haft of Clark's spear, in an attempt to get the weapon out of his hands or out of Rita's body...
Rita Ma	Clark is no kind of pushover. He contemptuously locks eyes with Nonon even while being strangled, and tries to duck under her incoming blow a full second before-- but even though she's limp and glassy-eyed, Rita's tentacles lash onto the Manhattan's deck, holding him in place.      The unmitigated impact of the punch would crush a lesser man's skull. He reels from it, grits his teeth, and spares a hand to draw another handgun on her point-blank. He chokes out: "Bitch. You don't know what you're--" Another tentacle wraps around his arm and breaks his trigger finger backwards. None of his toadies dare to intervene.      He whips back around on her with a sharp hiss, readying what must be the coup de grace. But he's too perceptive not to notice Candy- several Candies- on the Union Busan. His eyes flick between them. They fix on the right one. He moves to parry the bullet with the Rita-impaling spear. He really might.      Madeleine halts his spear. His furious blue eyes turn on her, and he tries to kick her away just before Candy pulls the trigger- but yet another tentacle wraps around his forearm too, and something crunches inside it.      He looks at Candy one last time, as the bullet's in the air. There's wild contempt in his eyes. Candy knows exactly what that look means. Of course it would be someone like you.      The bullet makes a red halo on the ship's metal behind him. What-used-to-be-Clark slumps. And Rita, unspooling, falls from his spear to vanish beneath the waves. The sea's already too red for her to make a dent.