Chapter 107: A Fun Minigun
Looking up at his father, Midoriya could already see his displeasure. As the roar of a Boeing 777X's engines deafened Midoriya's ears, Snake was busy fighting against the MSF's dress uniform he currently wore. It consisted of a rather plain black button-up coat and pants, adorned with golden trimmings along the wrists, arms, and chest. Underneath the coat was a plain light blue dress shirt with a plain black tie. To finish everything up, a black beret with the MSF's logo rested atop his head.
"Damn you, Kaz," Snake muttered to himself, the man battling against the tie around his neck. Next to him, Midoriya just snickered. He hadn't been privy to the entirety of his father and uncle's conversation, but the basics of it had been that Miller wanted Snake to dress well. Snake could care less about meeting the President, but Miller was damn sure everything had to go smoothly. So it was either a dress uniform or a plain suit. If it was truly such an issue, why did he have to wear it now, Midoriya mentally wondered.
With a muffled grumble, Snake looked back down at Midoriya, the teen swiftly halting his snickering. With a sigh, Snake stepped to the side and crossed his arms.
"Alright, you know the drill," Snake stated slowly, "No staying up too late, no getting into trouble, do whatever UA's staff tells you to…"
Trailing off, Snake's eye drifted downward to the ground. Midoriya's eyes did the same, as they both looked down at Eri. The girls had done what they good during their clean-up session. Eri's once tangled mess of a head, her hair being described as comparable to bacon grease, was now straightened out and washed. Dirt and grime that hadn't been dealt with were thoroughly scrubbed away, and thanks to Yaoyorozu, Eri had been given a clean new outfit.
Nothing overly complex, just a plain white t-shirt and a pair of black athletic shorts, along with a pair of velcro sneakers. Which reminded Midoriya that they'd need to get Eri a new wardrobe. The girl in question, meanwhile, looked up at both of them quietly. Only to shrink back as she felt their gazes. Seeing this, both Snake and Midoriya looked away, not wanting to put Eri under any more pressure.
"And watch her. I'm counting on you while Kaz and I are gone," Snake told him, with Midoriya smiling back.
"I will," Midoriya replied simply, "I won't let you down."
Smiling back, Snake soon ruffled Midoriya's hair, before his arm dropped back to his side.
"I'll be back Wednesday," Snake said finally, turning toward the plane. As he walked, Midoriya waved toward him, and Snake waved back. Eri, seeing this, didn't know what to think of everything. She'd practically just met the man, and he was leaving. It felt odd. But, rather hesitantly, she copied Midoriya and waved back at Snake.
"...Bye," she said softly, watching as the plane's door closed. Rather swiftly, the plane soon took off, leaving both Midoriya and Eri quiet. After a few moments, Eri turned toward Midoriya, her small red eyes looping up at him.
"...When is Wednesday?" she asked, unsure.
"Three days from now," Midoriya replied calmly, only to pause as he saw Eri look back, puzzled.
"Oh… how long is that?" Eri asked, confused, with Midoriya clicking his tongue. How did she not know? The length of a day was practically common knowledge. Some might not be able to describe how long it feels, but they know how long it is. So Eri should know how long three days would be… unless her entire preconception of time was… wrong. She didn't know how long three days would be, because she didn't know how long one was.
Her bright, pale skin shouted that she rarely saw the sun. And with no sun, how could one know the differences in time between night and day? When sunset arrives and when sunrise occurs. The body had an internal clock, but that clock could always be thrown off. Even now, he found Eri slowly beginning to yawn, even though she'd just had breakfast. And back during her rescue, Midoriya realized she'd been wide awake. That… that's worrying, Midoriya thought.
If Snake ever got around to questioning her, and he asked Eri how long she'd been stuck with Night Owl, would she even have an answer? Did she know how many days or nights she'd been trapped, if she didn't know the length of either? Midoriya didn't know what to think about that. Instead, with the friendliest smile he could manage, he crouched down to her level.
"A while," Midoriya told her calmly before he looked at the area around them. The airfield's tarmac had been vacated temporarily so Snake could take off. Now that he was gone, the air crews were getting back to work swiftly. Seeing this, Midoriya knew better than to get in their way. So turning back toward Eri, he said, "Hey, you want to get a snack?"
Hearing the word snack, Eri's eyes instantly lit up, and the girl nodded her head quickly. Laughing slightly, Midoriya stood back up and quietly led the way to the dorms. Within a few minutes, the two had reached the massive building. Stepping inside, Midoriya took a quick glance around and saw that the common area was mostly vacant. Jiro and Kaminari sat on the couch watching TV, while bickering over… something.
"How is he not peak to you?" Kaminari asked surprised, as Midoriya spotted exactly what the two were watching. At the moment, they'd seemingly decided to watch John Wick. Which John Wick, Midoriya wasn't fully sure yet. It seemed to be the original, though it could also be the reboot or the remake. Considering Kaminari's tastes, however, he suspected the first choice.
"I'm sorry, but all his lines are just aggressive and flat whispers. One of his most iconic lines is just, yeah," Jiro replied, the girl giving her best attempt at a Keanu Reeves impression, "It's very flat acting. Anybody could do the same job-"
The movie interrupted her as she spoke, though, with Kaminari quickly turning up the volume.
"Your son took that from me. Stole that from me. Killed that from me!" the TV played loudly, as Kaminari looked toward Jiro with a grin. Somehow, Midoriya could feel it getting smugger by the second.
"But now, yeah, I'm thinking I'm back! So you can either hand over your son, or you can die screaming alongside him!" the TV added, with Kaminari turning the volume back down.
"...Ok, that part had some emotion," Jiro conceded, while Kaminari pumped his fist in the air. At the same time as this happened, Midoriya spotted Ashido, Uraraka, and Hagakure huddled around the common room table. In front of them, Monopoly was spread across the table.
"And that's Boardwalk," Uraraka called out, as Ashido placed her piece on the board, "Two thousand dollars, please."
"Oh, come on! Can't I have an exception?" Ashido exclaimed, the girl holding onto her last hundred-dollar bill. Her eyes moved between Uraraka and Hagakure, before both her opponents looked at each other.
"Hmm… What do you think, Hagakure?" Uraraka inquired, a smug look on her face.
"I don't know, our pockets are rather empty," Hagakure replied, an unseen, but equally smug look on her face. Seeing there was no way out, Ashido slumped into her chair before passing Uraraka her money. The only other person in the common room was… Todoroki. Midoriya paused for a second as his eyes met the half-and-half teen. The son of Endeavor had moved into the dorms with the rest of 1A once he'd gotten back, but he hadn't been around all that much.
Most of the time, he stayed in his room, only ever popping out for dinner. But right now, the teen was sitting on a stool by the kitchen's island, not really doing anything. Midoriya didn't say anything, though, instead walking up to the counter quietly. Swiftly, he pulled out a stool, a few chairs to Todoroki's right, and Eri sat down. It earned a curious look from Todoroki, but like Midoriya, he said nothing. Stepping into the kitchen, Midoriya looked over everything quietly, his hand soon reaching for the fridge's door.
"Alright, what should we get…" Midoriya muttered to himself before yanking the fridge open. Courtesy of the MSF and UA, the thing had been fully stocked with whatever they may need. That said, Midoriya couldn't help but stare at all the options and think of nothing.
"Uh… anything specific, Eri?" Midoriya asked hesitantly, still looking over the fridge's contents.
"Can I have some chocolate?" Eri asked, with Midoriya thinking it over.
"Maybe later," Midoriya replied, only to feel regret seconds later. He couldn't see Eri's face, but he could feel the disappointment radiating from her. Don't cave in, don't. She can't have chocolate every day, it's not healthy. Silently, Midoriya kept searching, only to be dissatisfied with everything available. With a sigh, Midoriya stepped back, slowly bringing a hand to his chin.
Ice cream is a no-go, Midoriya mentally remarked, it's too sugary, like chocolate. Same for anything cookie or brownie-like. And giving Eri anything junk food-based is definitely a bad idea… Could try making something, but what? As Midoriya questioned this, his eyes shifted over the fridge again. After what felt like an eternity, he spotted an apple sitting in the fridge. It was bright red and about the size of a baseball.
An idea soon came to Midoriya's mind, and the teen grabbed the fruit. Maybe Eri would like a pie, Midoriya thought. It'd be healthier than all the other options… probably. With it decided, Midoriya looked into the fridge again and began grabbing every apple he could. Once that was done, he pulled out his Idroid and placed it on the counter. With it out, Midoriya slowly began scrolling through recipes.
Not sure which one's best… this one seems good though, Midoriya commented. Now all that's needed is a few pans, a couple of knives… how uh… how does this stuff work? Looking over one of the kitchen's ovens, Midoriya couldn't help but become confused. Each appliance had a million different buttons and light-up timers. And… to be honest, he'd never actually cooked anything before.
Most of his meals were either made by Mother Base's mess staff or were an MRE he just needed to heat up. So… I'm sure this will be fine, Midoriya thought, before looking back at his Idroid. First things first, he began prepping the pie's crust. The pantry thankfully had a box of premade pie dough, so Midoriya took it out and got it set up after. After a while, the crust had been placed into a pie tin.
Next up was the filling, so Midoriya got to work washing and cutting up some apples. In an orderly fashion, he began laying them out across the crust. Only to stop, his eyes going back and forth between the pie tin and his Idroid. The recipe says six apples… but the tin only has room for three… would that affect how much sugar is needed? Because the recipe called for a half cup of sugar and two point four six four four… wait, that's the metric system…
But the recipe was using imperial before… Midoriya tried to rake his brain around it, his eyes going back and forth between the pie tin and the Idroid. It didn't make any sense. Was the half cup of sugar supposed to be in metric? Or was the amount of cinnamon supposed to be imperial? It-
"What are you doing?" a voice called out, the tone cold and uncaring, but curious. Looking up, Midoriya found Todoroki watching him quietly, the teen's icy gaze soon switching to the Idroid's hologram.
"Trying to make a pie," Midoriya replied tiredly, before slowly grabbing another apple. He could get a bigger tin, but he'd already made the pie crust. As Midoriya thought this, Todoroki turned to look at Eri. By now, the girl had gotten bored. So instead, she began drawing on a piece of paper, with crayons she'd gotten from somewhere. There, he watched her quietly, seeming to take note of her presence.
"Do you know how?" Todoroki asked, turning back toward Midoriya.
"Do you?" Midoriya asked in return, only to cringe at his tone. He didn't mean to sound snappy. If anything, Midoriya hoped Todoroki knew how to do this better than he did. Todoroki's gaze somehow went colder, though, before Midoriya could try to apologize. Moving on, Midoriya grabbed a small measuring cup and a bag of sugar. Carefully, he began pouring out some sugar, little by little. Reaching half a cup, Midoriya moved to dump the sugar.
"I don't think that's right," Todoroki called out, Midoriya holding the measuring cup an inch away from the tin. Looking back at Todoroki, Midoriya pulled the cup back.
"It said half a cup of sugar," Midoriya told him, as Todoroki looked between the Idroid and the tin.
"For a pie twice that size," Todoroki countered, with Midoriya quietly grumbling. If only Victoria were here. Stepping back from the pie tin, Midoriya placed the measuring cup on the counter.
"It says one-half, or two-thirds," Midoriya argued, "It won't change much."
Todoroki's eyes merely squinted in response, with Midoriya staring back quietly. After a second, he looked away and poured the sugar back into the bag. This time, he slowly poured out one-fourth of a cup and dumped it into the pie. Now done, Midoriya moved on to the next step. Where the recipe called for two cups of… allspice… two… two cups!? Midoriya wanted to slam his head onto the counter. Raking a hand over his face, Midoriya turned toward Todoroki, desperation clear on his face.
With a deep breath, Midoriya asked, "Can you help me?"
Staring back at him, Todoroki stayed quiet. Eventually, he stood up from his stool and walked around the kitchen's island. Taking it to mean yes, Midoriya scooched to the side, letting Todoroki more easily see the recipe. There they both got to work. Swiftly, Todoroki grabbed a container of nutmeg and held out a measuring spoon in front of him.
"Do we add half a teaspoon of nutmeg or three milliliters?" he asked, with Midoriya looking back unsure.
"Why does it say both?" Midoriya muttered, with Todoroki shrugging. They moved on, though, pressing forward. Eventually, Todoroki looked over the recipe again and called out, "I think you were supposed to preheat the oven."
"Ah… crap," Midoriya replied tiredly grumbled, "Can you start it up?"
Todoroki simply nodded and moved to turn on the oven. Only to speak up again a few seconds later.
"...There's another problem. The recipe has the temperature in Kelvin," Todoroki pointed out, with Midoriya running sugar-covered hands to his hair.
"Why!?" Midoriya yelled out, annoyed. Please, no more issues. It's all going to be fine from here on, Midoriya told himself. Only to be wrong seconds later as he looked over the recipe again. Where, for whatever reason, the recipe called for sour cream… why!? None of this makes any sense!? Why is it using Kelvin and Celsius!? Why does it keep flip-flopping between the Imperial and Metric systems!?
Midoriya had hoped Todoroki would be of help, but if anything, the teen was as confused as Midoriya. For an hour, they moved about the kitchen, unsure of what to do. Cinnamon covered Todoroki's hair, bits of nutmeg dotted Midoriya's face, and apple juices stained both their clothes. The kitchen was no better, having been doused in pie dough as Midoriya gave up and tried starting a new pie. Meanwhile, the counters were covered in allspice and sour cream.
Why is this so difficult, Midoriya mentally screamed. He should have just given Eri chocolates! It took four painstaking hours, but Midoriya finally pulled a finished pie out of the oven. And it was charcoal black. Both teens slumped to the ground, leaning against the counters for support. Neither said anything, but they could smell the burnt pie. Midoriya couldn't help but gag.
"We are bad at this," Todoroki muttered, with Midoriya smiling nervously.
"I'm… sure it tastes better than it looks," Midoriya told him, only for Todoroki to give him a deadpan look. Yeah, I didn't believe it either, Midoriya thought to himself. Might as well try again, he remarked, before slowly standing back up. As he did so, he heard someone loudly gag nearby.
"Ugh! The hell is that smell!?" they cried out, a spiky-haired blond stepping around the common room's hall. As he looked into the kitchen, the explosive teen froze. His eyes went wide as they slowly traced over every inch of the kitchen.
"Bakugo," Midoriya calmly greeted, noting Bakugo's shifting gaze. Every few seconds, he'd stop on some part of Midoriya and Todoroki's mess. And with a slowly growing fury, Midoriya found that gaze falling onto him.
"What the fuck are you two doing!?" Bakugo yelled, with Midoriya nervously chuckling.
"Akatani was trying to bake a pie," Todoroki replied, now pointing at their burnt dish.
"For Eri," Midoriya clarified, while Bakugo turned toward the charcoal pie. He went quiet for a moment, his face morphing into a look of surprise.
"...That, sure as shit is not a pie," Bakugo muttered, with Midoriya again chuckling.
"It's… not our best attempt," Midoriya told him, Bakugo's head whipping back toward him.
"Oh? I couldn't tell!" he yelled sarcastically, with Midoriya flinching. Rude and unnecessary… but not wrong, Midoriya relented.
"What did you even do to the kitchen!?" Bakugo demanded, taking extra note of their clothing, "It's like you've never cooked a day in your lives!"
With a nervous chuckle, Midoriya found himself avoiding Bakugo's gaze. At the same time, Todoroki took a slow step back, his head turned so Bakugo couldn't see him. Realizing what the silence meant, Bakugo's fury slowly began to rise.
"You utter, fucking, dumbasses!" he shouted, as Midoriya held out his hands defensively.
"I thought it would be simple!" Midoriya tried to argue, only for Bakugo to loudly grumble. Turning around, the explosive teen walked toward a nearby closet. Grabbing a broom, he rushed back to the kitchen and began shoving Midoriya and Todoroki.
"Out! Both of you!" Bakugo demanded, ignoring both teens' small cries of protest, "Two of you can't be trusted with a damn spoon!"
Now outside the kitchen, Midoriya turned to see Bakugo step back angrily. With the broom in hand, he began to sweep. All while he muttered under his breath about being unable to make lunch. Well… that couldn't have gone worse, Midoriya remarked, before turning toward Eri. By now, she'd gotten bored with drawing and ended up falling asleep. Her head rested on the counter, and Midoriya cringed as he saw bits of cinnamon inside her once-clean hair.
With a sigh, Midoriya pulled out a stool and sat down next to her. So much for getting a snack-
"I doubt you could do better," Todoroki called out, with Midoriya slowly looking toward the teen. Bakugo, who had been sweeping the floors, froze.
"...Better?" Bakugo questioned, his head slowly turning toward Todoroki, "Better… I'll show you better Icy Hot!"
Before Midoriya could offer up any protest, Bakugo had already moved. He'd washed his hands, grabbed a fresh pie tin, preheated a fresh clean oven, put on an apron, and tossed out the burnt pie. From there, Bakugo got to work creating dough from scratch.
"Damn extra," he muttered to himself, while busily mixing the pie dough. As this happened, Midoriya could only watch in surprise. Bakugo moved around the kitchen with an odd, aggressive grace. He didn't stay in the same spot for long, always rushing to cut up more apples, add more sugar, grab another mixing cup, or wipe down the counter.
"How are you so good at this?" Midoriya asked him, surprised as Bakugo shoved a newly made pie into the oven.
"How the hell are you so bad at it!?" Bakugo snapped, with Midoriya not having an answer. After a few minutes, Bakugo pulled the pie out of the oven. The second it was out, Midoriya felt the smell hit him. Compared to the burnt mess his pie had been, this smelled heavenly. Without a word, Bakugo grabbed a plate and set it on the counter. He cut a piece of pie from the tin, placed it on the plate, and sprayed some whipped cream on top.
With a quick glare at Todoroki, Bakugo slid the plate toward Eri. The sudden noise jostled the girl awake, and she looked at the pie, confused.
"There, squirt," Bakugo muttered, before passing her a fork. Hesitantly, Eri grabbed the utensil, her eyes going back to the pie.
"...Thank you," Eri told him, slowly cutting a piece of pie for herself. It was a bit clumsy, as she nearly stabbed the counter. It was as if she hadn't used a fork in years. Midoriya mentally added it to his list of things she needed to relearn. Eventually, she got the hang of it and had a small bite of pie ready. With her usual cautiousness, Eri carefully ate the pie. Instantly, her eyes lit up. She didn't smile, but now Midoriya saw her wolfing down the pie.
When it was finally gone, she reached out, and Bakugo passed her another slice. Somehow, the small girl finished half the pie. The sight caused Midoriya to smile, the teen now chuckling lightly.
"Well… hate to say it, but you've beaten me this time," Midoriya commented, still chuckling. Hearing him, Bakugo merely scoffed, annoyed, before slowly going quiet. Looking at Bakugo, he could see the other teen thinking about… something. Eventually, he began moving again, now cleaning the kitchen. But not before yanking the half-empty pie tin from Todoroki.
In what was becoming the modern age of heroics, it was becoming clear to many that range was yet again the defining factor of a fight. Now, for some of class 1A, there were plenty of options. Ashido's quirk lets her fling acid, Todoroki could effectively "throw" a glacier or act as a flamethrower, Bakugo was a walking howitzer, Aoyama had a high-energy laser, Mineta had his hairballs, Sero had… tape… and to some extent, Dark Shadow was Tokoyami's ranged weapon.
But that was just when it came to basic quirks. Give anyone the right equipment, and their quirk could become a decently ranged attack or aid them in using a ranged weapon. And to Yaoyorozu, this lesson was practically clear as day. In effect, she had a nearly limitless number of weapons she could use, due in part to her quirk and her parents… well, rigorous tutoring. Archery lessons had made her proficient with compound bows and crossbows, with arrows being simple for her quirk to manufacture.
A spear was perfect for a javelin throw. A blowgun was cheap and easy to use, as were slingshots. Throwing knives, darts, shurikens, tomahawks, and boomerangs were all viable choices. Even excluding ranged options, there were swords, axes, hammers, tonfas, maces, whips, and nunchucks that Yaoyorozu could use proficiently. However, there was just one item Yaoyorozu lacked experience with: firearms.
Yaoyorozu had hoped to ask Akatani for help in this endeavor. Unfortunately, he was busy trying to make something for Eri. So, Yaoyorozu gave the girl a piece of paper and some crayons and left to find option number two. It, of course, was not difficult to find Grizzly. What was difficult was dealing with his squad's differing opinions on firearms. As Yaoyorozu found herself standing in a lone firing range, while Grizzly argued with Eagle.
"No, no, no, this is not the kind of gun you want," Grizzly told her, Yaoyorozu looking over the bulky gun resting on the table in front of her.
"And why not?" Eagle inquired, motioning for Yaoyorozu to pick it up, "It's got a powerful caliber, it's semi-automatic, its bulky design doubles as a bludgeoning tool, and most importantly, it's flashy."
"What does flashiness have to do with any of this?" Ape asked in return, with Grizzly bringing his hand to his face.
"Well, she's training to become a hero, and last I checked, style is a pretty big deal," Eagle reasoned, while the ex-hero among them groaned in annoyance.
"And that somehow makes dual-wielding Desert Eagles chambered in fifty AE a good idea?" Grizzly questioned, Eagle now rapidly nodding his head.
"It's a perfect idea! The most iconic '80s action hero gun in the hands of a would-be hero," Eagle explained, with… well, Yaoyorozu somewhat agreeing. Style was still a major part of heroics. Depending on the design, a hero's costume tended to bring hope to those who saw it. It was an internalized message that they would be safe. On the flip side, there were the costumes solely designed to strike fear, mainly employed by underground heroes. Whether the MSF liked it or not, heroics had a lot of theatrics that existed for practical reasons.
"The recoil will tear off said hands," Ape soon countered, with Eagle rolling his eyes.
"Besides, Akimbo is dumb and you know it," Grizzly pointed out, Eagle now looking at him with mock shock.
"It is awesome," Eagle argued, while Grizzly crossed his arms. Before he could say anything, though, Gecko spoke up.
"Then why do you only have one gun?" Gecko inquired, the lizard man sitting off in the corner with a car magazine. Hearing the question, everyone saw Eagle hesitate to speak. A few times, he opened his mouth ready to answer, only to stop.
"...ammo prices make getting a second unwise," Eagle finally replied, while Grizzly looked at him incredulously.
"Before coming to Japan, our last contract netted us all four hundred grand. The fuck do you mean ammo prices!?" Grizzly exclaimed, soon grabbing and shaking Eagle. Ape seemed tempted to do the same, while Gecko's eyes shot up away from his magazine.
"What did you blow your money on?!" Gecko cried out, with Yaoyorozu now curious as well. Grizzly had explained parts of the contract his squad had taken on. The main gist of the contract was that an animal preservation group contracted them to rescue some endangered animals in Africa. Villains and poachers were supposedly in the area, so the group found it too dangerous to do it themselves. In the end, they paid forty to seventy thousand dollars per endangered animal. Mainly large elephants, hippos, and rhinos.
Which netted the MSF around forty million dollars. The MSF's commanders took sixty percent to pay for fuel, vehicle repairs, some R projects, and, of course, the command staff. Which left Grizzly's forty-man platoon with four hundred thousand dollars each. It was shockingly lucrative. Still, they all began getting off track, and Yaoyorozu's curiosity began to subside.
"Ahem," she called out, the four soldiers looking back. After a few seconds, Grizzly let Eagle go and stepped back.
"Right, right," Grizzly muttered, before walking forward and grabbing the Desert Eagle off the table.
"No akimbo Desert Eagles," Grizzly stated, causing Eagle to grumble.
"They worked fine for Yak," Eagle muttered, with Ape sighing next to him.
"Yak had both his arms blown off and replaced with prosthetics," Ape argued, "I have the distinct feeling that won't work in her case."
With this sight, Grizzly walked off to grab another gun. At the same time, Yaoyorozu heard someone hmm next to her.
"Are they always like this?" Kirishima asked with a nervous smile, while Yaoyorozu glanced toward him. When Yaoyorozu left to find Grizzly, Kirishima ended up running into her. He, also wanting to try more ranged weapons, decided to come along. Which Yaoyorozu was quietly grateful for. Now she wouldn't be the only person unsure of what they were doing.
"On occasion," Yaoyorozu soon replied, right as Grizzly came back. Thankfully, she didn't need to translate anything for Kirishima. It turned out Marston had been fully capable of translating Japanese the entire time. Of course, being the cheeky bastard he was, he didn't bother to tell anyone. That, or he forgot. Both possibilities seemed plausible to Yaoyorozu. So as Grizzly spoke up, a nearby Idroid began recording everything he said and played it back in Japanese.
"First things first, the rules of gun safety. Do you know them?" Grizzly inquired as Yaoyorozu noted the two pistols in his hands. Both she and Kirishima thought it over for a second. And became stumped. It wasn't a difficult question; just don't point the gun at someone. But… Yaoyorozu felt she was missing something.
"...Don't… point them at people," Kirishima replied, with Eagle, Ape, and Gecko murmuring to themselves.
"Not wrong," they heard Gecko mutter, which gave Kirishima a small sigh of relief. Still, it wasn't the full answer, so Grizzly went on.
"Treat every firearm like it is loaded at all times. Do not point it at something you are not willing to kill. Keep your finger off the trigger unless you are ready to fire. And I cannot stress this enough: pay attention to your surroundings," he explained, both Kirishima and Yaoyorozu nodding along slowly.
"We do not need you accidentally shooting someone in the head, because some dumbass decided to walk by you at the wrong time," Grizzly further clarified, soon giving Yaoyorozu a mental picture. With that done, Grizzly placed one pistol on the table. Turning toward both teens, he held the other pistol out for them to see.
"Now, we're going to start simple," Grizzly told them, soon loading a fresh magazine into the weapon, "This is an M1911, chambered in forty-five ACP. It has a seven-round magazine, but can hold an eighth round in the chamber."
With the first gun loaded, he held it out to Yaoyorozu. Cautiously, the heiress reached out and grabbed the gun. The second she did, her brain screamed, her nerves telling her to put it back down. Instinctively, she pointed it down range away from anyone she could accidentally hurt.
"It is one of the most common handguns in the world," Grizzly continued, now loading the next 1911 carefully. Once it was done, he passed it to Kirishima, who, like Yaoyorozu, pointed it down range.
"When you shoot, there will be recoil," Grizzly clarified, before motioning for Kirishima to move, "However, you are going to overestimate how much recoil. So don't hold the gun with a death grip. If you try to overcompensate the recoil, your aim will be off, and you could accidentally misfire."
After saying that, Grizzly had Kirishima step into a booth next to Yaoyorozu's. There he moved between the two teens, adjusting their posture little by little.
"That said, hold the gun too loosely, and it'll fly out of your hand. Hold it tight, but not too tight," Grizzly added, stepping back once he believed both teens were ready.
"Got that?" he asked, and both teens nodded.
"Yeah," Kirishima replied, while Yaoyorozu answered, "Yes."
"Good," Grizzly stated, taking a step back and popping on some earpro. Looking down range, Yaoyorozu took a few shoddy breaths. This would be simple, very simple. Just pull the trigger. Slowly, her finger moved into the trigger guard before stopping. It… it'll be fine. Grizzly has shot these things a million times. Akatani has shot these things a million times. Just… calm down. This is no big deal, Yaoyorozu told herself.
Only to jump when Kirishima fired.
"Ooh! You weren't kidding about recoil," Kirishima called out, as Yaoyorozu removed her finger from the trigger guard.
"It's like I was saying. Don't overestimate it, but don't underestimate it," Grizzly told him, "Now that you've fired, you should know how it feels."
"Yeah, ok," Kirishima replied, a nervous yet excited chuckle escaping his lips. A few seconds later, Kirishima fired again, his round striking the targets at the other end of the range. Slowly, he sped up, firing faster as he emptied his magazine. With his last round fired Kirishima couldn't help but laugh.
"That was kinda fun," Kirishima commented, before Yaoyorozu heard him turn toward Grizzly, "Can I go again?"
"Sure, got a few more mags left," Grizzly replied, before walking toward him. See, Yaoyorozu told herself, perfectly fine. Kirishima had no issues, and neither should you. With a deep breath, Yaoyorozu put her finger on the trigger. Just… just do it. Count down from three. One… two…three. Silently, Yaoyorozu pulled the trigger. Instantly, she felt the recoil kick back. For a moment, Yaoyorozu registered the feeling. The force of the gun, the smell of smoke drifting from its barrel, the grip's cool metal.
Unlike Kirishima, she didn't wait to fire again, instead pressing on. She fired again in a calm, rhythmic pattern. It felt… intoxicating. It was the best way Yaoyorozu could describe it. Just the noise, the smell, the feeling… it was like that wrestling match back in the MSF barracks. Back then, there were no expectations. There were no worries of having to pass a lesson or impress a tutor.
It was… it was liberating. Just letting loose without all the prim and proper worries. It's why when Grizzly held out another mag, Yaoyorozu swiftly grabbed it. Trying to mimic Akatani, she'd flicked the empty magazine out of the gun and shoved in the fresh one. The slide moved forward, and with a satisfying click, Yaoyorozu found it reloaded. Swiftly, she fired again, whittling down her target.
Seven rounds became six, then three, then one. Grizzly passed her a third mag, and Yaoyorozu started the process all over again. When she finally stopped, Yaoyorozu took a deep breath. Smelling the smoke in the air, she found that intoxicating had been the right word. What was this again? A 1911? It… It's nice. Setting the gun down, Yaoyorozu took a step back and found Grizzly standing off to the side.
"So, ready to move on to something else?" Grizzly asked, with Yaoyorozu thinking it over.
"...I would like that, yes," Yaoyorozu replied, as Grizzly stepped to the side. Walking forward, Yaoyorozu found a small selection of firearms resting along a gun rack. Most were assault rifles, mainly the MSF's standard M7. But there were a few extra weapons. A Type 20 confiscated from the Ninth Circle, an H 416, an M4 Carbine, a G36, an IWI Tavor, an MSBS Grot, an FN Scar, and a Steyr Aug rested along the rack. As Yaoyorozu looked over the weapons, a loud boom emanated from Kirishima's booth.
Turning around, she spotted him holding a long pump-action shotgun, a Remington 870 to be exact. A Benelli M4 sat along his booth's wall as well, a box of shells sitting with it.
"Your buddy moved on to some shotguns. Want to give those a try?" Grizzly offered, with Yaoyorozu giving it some thought. However, she had something else in mind. There was much she saw during the massacre. And as vicious as it had been, it had given her some ideas.
"Maybe… I had something else in mind. I just…" Yaoyorozu began, slowly trailing off, "...One moment, I'll be right back."
Without another word, she rushed out of the firing range, leaving Grizzly confused. He turned toward his buddies, who merely shrugged. Quietly, he went back to dealing with Kirishima, the teen discovering how to slamfire his 870. To Grizzly's surprise, he tanked the recoil like a champ.
"I'm back," Yaoyorozu eventually called out, the girl walking back into the room. When everyone turned toward her, they immediately noticed something new.
"Huh… What's with the exo?" Grizzly inquired while Yaoyorozu walked back to her booth. With a nervous smile, Yaoyorozu looked over the mechanical system carefully.
"I wanted to try something more… invigorating, I guess," Yaoyorozu replied, admiring Melissa's handiwork. She'd gotten it done shockingly fast, and everything had so far exceeded her expectations. It was comfortable, and it moved fluidly, but most importantly, the robotic arm portion was just as she requested. Along her right forearm was a small screen. Tapping it, Yaoyorozu found the arm bending around her.
As this happened, Grizzly watched confused. Kirishima, now noticing Yaoyorozu's new gear, carefully placed his weapon down. Curious, he stepped to the side to get a better view, now standing next to Grizzly.
"Ok… still doesn't explain the ex-" Grizzly stated, before trailing off and averting his eyes. By now, Yaoyorozu had lifted up her shirt. And ever so carefully, an M134 minigun began to emerge from her torso. When Kirishima and Grizzly finally looked back, they spotted Yaoyorozu connecting the minigun to the robotic arm. It came with some awkward difficulty, mainly by having to juggle the large gun.
But soon it was on. With the robotic arm holding up the weapon, moving it around was a breeze. Pulling up her right sleeve, an ammo link soon popped out of Yaoyorozu's skin. Pulling it, Yaoyorozu connected it to the minigun and began creating 7.62 rounds.
"...Holy shit kid," was all Grizzly could mutter, while Yaoyorozu took a deep breath. With everything hopefully ready, Yaoyorozu aimed down range and held the trigger. For a solid minute, all she heard was the brrt of the gun. Round after round went through the minigun, each one tearing up her once pristine target. When she stopped, Yaoyorozu stayed quiet and took a deep breath. After a moment of silence, an adrenaline-filled laugh escaped her lips.
It was incredible! It was exhilarating! It was intoxicating! She was pretty sure she smelled like smoke and ash. She was sure her ears would be ringing for a week, even with the ear protection. And Yaoyorozu didn't care. Still laughing, Yaoyorozu pressed a button on her forearm, and the robotic arm began folding back up. Carrying the minigun, the arm slotted itself into place along her back.
"That… that was manly," Kirishima eventually muttered. Turning toward him, Yaoyorozu found tears in his eyes. Quickly, the red-haired teen wiped them away and rushed toward her.
"Please tell me I can try," he commented, his hands clasped together in front of him. Her adrenaline slightly wearing off, Yaoyorozu looked back at him, unsure. Slowly, she turned to Grizzly, only to find the man still staring dumbstruck.
"...Now that's just unfair," Grizzly muttered, the soldier running a hand through his hair, "The big guys get to use M2s as assault rifles, and now the teens get miniguns as primaries."
"Welcome to my world, frosty!" Eagle yelled back from across the room, with Grizzly waving him off. Looking back, Grizzly found both teens still waiting for an answer.
"Go nuts, kid," Grizzly relented, while softly chuckling. With that confirmation, Yaoyorozu wasted no time disconnecting the minigun. Passing it to Kirishima, Yaoyorzu then created a small canister-like backpack. She loaded it with ammo, connected it to the minigun, and Kirishima put it on. Rushing back toward his booth, the maliest of 1A began firing down range. And while Yaoyorozu needed the exo, he just used brute strength.
Hardening his skin, Kirishima found it far too easy to keep the M134 on target. As this happened, Yaoyorozu decided to move on to something else. Ideas ran through her head, and as if she were an addict, Yaoyorozu scrambled to find another weapon. But what to use? What would she stick to in the field? What-
"No akimbo Desert Eagles," she remembered Grizzly stating, the conversation coming back to mind.
"Yak had both his arms blown off and replaced with prosthetics," Ape had argued, as Yaoyorozu slowly looked down at her arms. They were still very much fleshy and human. But she twisted her arm around, spotting the mechanical brace of the exoskeleton. It… It's close enough, Yaoyorozu reasoned. It might not be the most practical or smart option… but it did have style.
And if the Desert Eagles didn't work, then there were always two 1911s… custom 1911s… I might be going down a rabbit hole, Yaoyorozu realized.
"I am telling you, they fuckin' knew!" was the only thing Ben needed to hear before groaning to himself. He was close, so close to getting through one normal conversation. But Olivia just had other plans. His roommate, coworker, and friend was… to be honest, a bit of a crackpot. She'd been an ardent conspiracy theorist for years and normally brought up odd theories she had when the two worked. This wouldn't normally be an issue; most of her theories were harmless.
But her recent tangents were a bit concerning. For the sole reason that Ben and Olivia worked at the Boston Navy Yard. Now, one may wonder why. The Boston Navy Yard was closed down centuries ago, with the yard soon being considered for demolition. But fifty years ago, around 2234, a large shipping magnate called Atlantic Cargo had bought the place. After a few modernization and expansion efforts, the yard was soon reopened and was dedicated to building new three-hundred-meter-long cargo ships.
And for years, that's how things were, until a couple of years ago. As in 2281, for reasons Ben didn't fully know at the time, the US Navy came to the yard offering Atlantic Cargo contracts for the construction of new naval vessels. Now again, Ben hadn't questioned it at the time; he'd only been nineteen when the deal was made and was a completely brand-new hire. But with recent events, things were becoming a tad bit fishy. Of course, that wasn't something he wanted to deal with when he was on the clock. His coworker, Gabe, seemed to share his sentiments as the man grumbled to himself.
"Not this again," Ben muttered, slowly shaking his head, annoyed.
"Seriously! Think about it!" Olivia called out, ignoring the sparks flying over her head as Gabe began welding the ship they were all working on, "Not one peep from the government about needin' any new ships. Nothin', not a word. Then outta the blue, they come in callin' corporate, sayin' they need an entirely new fleet!"
Lowering his welding helmet over his face, Ben couldn't help but grumble again. Not out of annoyance, but because he knew Olivia had a point.
"Goin' on about helpin' coastal heroes more effectively, and replacin' old rusty ships," Olivia muttered aloud, the woman soon refocusing on the ship near her. Only to ignore it a few seconds later.
"Except, four years later, and what do we see on the news? All the ships the Navy says they still have, floatin' off the coast of Japan and in the hands of foreign mercenaries!" Olivia exclaimed, causing Gabe to flinch, "They knew all that equipment was missin' for years, and didn't say a word! We weren't supplementin' heroes, we were replacin' the shit they lost!"
And it was here that Ben couldn't help but agree. He didn't question it before; the reps the US government sent said they were building new ships to better aid heroes. The vessels were to act in supplementary roles and disaster relief when needed. Which should have honestly set off multiple red flags. Because the ships the US Navy had them building were several thousand-ton warships.
Not the usual cutters the Coast Guard would request on occasion, but full-blown warships. The ship he was working on now, in fact, was a warship. To be specific, it was a newly christened Indianapolis-class cruiser. A two-hundred-and-ten-meter-long and twenty-meter-wide ship. Now, Ben knew almost nothing about why the US Navy was building these ships. He didn't know why they were designed, the politics behind it, how many other shipyards were building them, how many the US Navy wanted, or practically anything else. But what he did know was the ship's armament.
Just one Indianapolis-class cruiser had one hundred and fifty-eight vertical launch systems, each having anything from anti-air to cruise missiles. It had two dual-purpose five-inch guns, one positioned at the ship's bow, the other at the stern. And then there were the four Phalanx 20mm CIWS guns and two high-energy lasers. Two Phalanxes were positioned on the ship's port, the other two on the starboard. The lasers, meanwhile, were positioned on the bow and stern as well.
There were other weapons, of course, a few fifty cals, torpedo tubes, and some smaller autocannons, but they didn't stick out as much to Ben. It didn't fully matter, though. Because all this firepower was being placed on one ship, for the goal of supplementing heroes? He was beginning to feel like an idiot for not seeing it sooner. Hell, the government had them building three of the things a year, for nearly three years straight. In what world did the likes of Star and Stripe need nine ships with fifteen hundred missiles?
This brought up another issue: Indianapolis's predecessor, the Ticonderoga class, only had a hundred and thirty missiles. Was the government increasing missile production as well?
"And this matters, why?" Gabe soon questioned, earning an annoyed glance from Olivia.
"Ain't it obvious!? This MSF organization is nothing more than an illegal government-sponsored black ops group!" Olivia exclaimed, with Ben slowly shrinking into himself, "That equipment was never missing! We gave it to those mercs free of charge to bomb whatever shit hole we wanted to! That way we look like the good guys, and still bomb minorities across the globe!"
She had a good run, a few reasonable points here and there, and then it went out the window.
"You really need to get off the internet," Ben muttered, while Olivia looked back at him exasperated. Honestly, she acted like the US occupation of Haiti was still going on, or that the 2090s Quirk Riots were still happening. Crap like that just didn't happen anymore, not in an age of heroes. Of course, Olivia's ramblings began to get on Gabe's nerves, and the man soon grumbled loudly.
"Can we please just get back to work?" he asked, as Ben gave him a quick glance. He'd normally be their voice of reason, egging them to stay focused. So Ben wasn't entirely surprised by his request. However, he was surprised by his tone. Normally, Gabe tried to stay calm. Right now, he sounded more… anxious. Watching him work, Ben noticed the slight shaking of Gabe's arms.
He moved about somewhat rushed, welding the ship as best he could, but was impatient with the process.
"You act like the fate of the world's at stake," Ben commented, before covering his ears as Olivia piped up again.
"It is!" she yelled, earning a few glances from nearby coworkers. Ben ignored it, though, as his gaze stayed focused on Gabe. Hearing the comment, Gabe continued to work but shrugged ever so carefully.
"You've seen the news," Gabe muttered, with Ben raising a brow, confused. News? There hadn't been anything from Japan yet, still, the occasional attacks, but nothing overly groundbreaking. Europe hadn't heard anything from Humarise in a long while either, so Ben didn't know what he… Europe… oh…
"What? About the Russkies?" Ben inquired, with Gabe slowly nodding. Quietly, Ben waved him off before continuing to weld the ship carefully.
"It's political posturing," Ben told him, "There hasn't been a war in decades."
And there likely wouldn't be a war. That cult in Japan just had everyone all paranoid, the Russians too.
"Everything's just tense at the moment. Give it a few weeks, and everything will be back to normal," Ben added, hoping to provide some small sense of comfort. Because really, why would there be a war? What reason did the Russians have to start a war? The economy, while turbulent, was doing perfectly fine for decades. Europe-Russia relations had been going strong for years, with only the occasional scuffle. Yet Gabe had every intention of crushing that belief.
"...The Russian President threatened to bomb Finnish border towns. Said they were harboring alleged villains," Gabe revealed, with Ben freezing. Stuck in shock, he barely had time to shut off his blow torch before nearly burning a hole in the ship's hull.
"That's absurd!" Ben cried out in shock. Things had been cooling down for centuries. To have him just… threaten an innocent population on live TV, couldn't be anything but absurd! Why would he do any of this?
"I can send you the clip, he said it live on TV," Gabe added, with Ben still not believing it, "He claimed Russia's security was at stake due to the supposed lawlessness of the West."
Lawlessness of the West? What lawlessness? Ben wanted to believe it was just a lie. This was an age of heroes, for crying out loud. Conflicts between nation-states just didn't happen anymore. Wars became more economical or political rather than physical. But… here was the Russian President threatening another country. It earned a small hmm from Olivia, though, the woman slowly welding two bits of hull together.
"I'm more concerned with what the Chinese are up to," Olivia muttered, while Gabe glanced toward her.
"Why? Something happen?" Gabe asked, with Ben hoping that nothing had occurred.
"Not yet," Olivia replied, before clicking her tongue, "Heard their President was making some threatenin' remarks towards their opposition though. Might not be a war with us, but I'll tell you, somethin' could be comin' in fast."
Somehow, that didn't feel all that comforting, the longer Ben thought about it. If Gabe was right, and war was on the horizon… then what? How long would it last? How many would die? Would he have to fight? He was still young, and last he checked, the military stopped recruiting at age thirty, not twenty-two. He… he didn't want to die, but… no, he'd be fine. The US Navy needed shipbuilders, he was a shipbuilder. He'd be fine, he'd be safe, he'd… be the target of a missile…
"Can we talk about something else, please?" Ben asked, his thoughts slowly becoming more anxious, "I'd rather not sit up awake at night, wondering if we're all gonna get drafted tomorrow."
Quietly, Olivia shrugged in response, while Gabe slowly nodded. For a moment, they all stayed silent, no true conversation coming to mind.
"You see Harry's girlfriend? Could have sworn she's got the biggest fucking tits-" Olivia suddenly commented, before Ben interrupted her.
"Why is that what you bring up!? There were limitless topics, and you went with that!?" Ben exclaimed while Olivia began laughing madly. Quickly, she playfully slugged him in the shoulder while Ben shook his head, annoyed. Gabe did the same, while he seemed to remember something.
"You see the price of LEGO went up again?" Gabe asked, with Ben's eyes going wide.
"Again!? What's it now?" Ben inquired, with Gabe thinking it over quietly.
"Last I checked, the Might Tower architecture set was… about three hundred bucks," Gabe answered, Ben now going slack-jawed.
"Seriously?" Ben asked again, sure his ears were messing with him.
"Yeah, I-Island set went up to four hundred as well," Gabe added, with Ben now grumbling. He had a habit of splurging on LEGOs. Once all his bills were paid up, the rest would go straight to his collection. And he truly meant the rest of it. The small bricks of plastic crack were getting expensive as hell.
"I swear they're trying to drain my bank account," Ben muttered while Gabe snorted in response.
"Not getting them then?" Gabe inquired, with Ben waving him off.
"Oh hell no, those are limited edition," Ben replied, "They are going on my shelf, price increase be damned."
He may not financially recover, but he was getting those sets… might help to ask Olivia to loan him some cash, though.
"I doubt there's even room on your shelf," Olivia argued, chuckling, "Or did you forget the ten thousand piece Statue of Liberty sittin' on our coffee table?"
Never mind the loan, then, Ben thought, both his coworkers still chuckling to themselves. As this happened, he opened his mouth ready to argue back, but the ring of an alarm beat him to it. The loud horn's noise blared loudly across the shipyard, signaling the shift's end.
"And that's lunch," Ben commented, carefully dropping his blow torch into a small toolbox. Clapping his hands together, Ben stretched as he followed Olivia and Gabe to climb down the scaffolding they stood on.
"I'm feeling hot dogs today, anybody else?" Ben asked, with Gabe giving him a nod of agreement. Olivia, however, slowly shook her head, a fond smile on her face.
"Nah, got lunch with my girlfriend today," Olivia replied, Ben slowly nodding understandingly, "I'll be seeing you two later."
She gave them both a small wave, which they both quietly returned. Without another word and lunch on their minds, they all went their separate ways.
As the president's secretary, Mary Tipton had found herself shockingly busy in the last few weeks. With the Massacre's effects still rippling across the world, Congress and the American public had thrown themselves into a tizzy. Thousands of people were calling lawmakers and demanding they do something. And with 2284 being an election year, the majority started doing whatever they could to keep their voters happy.
Which had Mary swamped trying to keep everything organized for President Morrison. For example, right now, she was struggling to carry the new emergency budgetary plan Congress had whipped up. It was two thousand pages long and weighed like a brick. Practically barging into the Oval Office, Mary walked in swiftly.
"Mr. President, you really have to address this now," Mary muttered as she dropped the papers onto the desk. Looking up, she spotted Agent Matthews standing about quietly, but Morrison wasn't present. Instead, his black jacket clung to the back of his office chair. This… he better not be… Mary's eyes trailed over to Matthews, the agent standing tall. With a quiet glare, Mary looked up at the agent.
"Matthews," Mary greeted.
"Ms. Tipton," Matthews replied, the agent already knowing what this was about. Tiredly, the agent motioned to the couches across Morrison's desk. With a quiet thank you, Mary turned around and found Morrison napping. His legs were kicked up onto one of the Oval Office's cream-colored sofas. His arms crossed behind his head as he lay on a small coral-colored pillow.
"Of all the lazy…" Mary muttered, the secretary now walking toward Morrison. Standing above him, Mary couldn't help but glare. The country's most powerful man, lazing about in his office. Mary felt it was entirely justified when she slapped him awake. She was pretty sure it was illegal, but the Secret Service never did anything to stop it. Instantly, Morrison's eyes shot open, his hand moving to his cheek.
"Ow!" was the first thing to leave his mouth before he sat up on the couch. Rubbing his cheek, Morrison soon found the source of his pain and sighed.
"Mary," he greeted tiredly, while Mary pulled out a small tablet.
"Mr. President," Mary replied, now scrolling through the tablet, "Now that you're awake, I thought you should know that the new budget is on your desk."
"This again?" Morrison groaned, the man slowly stretching on the couch, "I've got ten days to go over the thing. There's plenty of time."
Ah yes. Ten days to read over the two-thousand-page budget. Ten days to decide whether it should be signed into law or vetoed. Ten days. With a sigh, Mary began to slowly shake her head.
"Sir, tomorrow's the last day to sign it," Mary told him, with Morrison looking back puzzled. Holding up his hands, he began counting his fingers.
"...What?" Morrison questioned, "No, it-"
Swiftly, Mary held out her tablet, pulling up a calendar.
"The budget was passed through Congress on May 19th," Mary explained slowly, "It is now May 27th. Counting the 19th, it has been nine days."
After he looked over the calendar, Mary pulled her tablet back.
"Tomorrow's the last day," Mary stated calmly. Slowly, Morrison's eyes began to go wide.
"So uh… where?" he questioned with a nervous chuckle, and Mary stepped to the side.
"Your desk, sir," Mary replied, allowing Morrison to see the budget in question. Without another word, he rushed to his desk and slumped into his chair. Again, Mary shook her head in disapproval but said nothing. If these past four years had taught her anything, it was that Morrison needed the occasional push to get things done. She'd call him what he is, a chronic procrastinator.
"Mary, what's the rest of today's schedule like?" Morrison soon asked, the man busily digging into the massive stack of papers.
"Let's see…" Mary trailed off, pulling up the schedule on her tablet, "Your meeting with the MSF is still at one. Around four, you're scheduled to attend the commissioning ceremony of the USS George W. Bush and the USS Washington. And at six, you have the diplomatic dinner with Director Konig."
The mention of the MSF seemed to raise his mood a little, but not by much. Instead, he buried himself in the planned budget. Flipping through papers, he couldn't help but read it aloud.
"Twenty billion dollars to replace the Marine Corps AH-1Zs, eight hundred million dollars to replace the UH-1Y… US Navy… thirty-three billion dollars for another fifteen Holsey class guided missile destroyers, eighteen billion for six more Indianapolis class guided missile cruisers, sixty-five billion for the final five Gerald Ford-class carriers, thirteen billion for twenty John Lewis–class replenishment oilers, and thirty-two billion for four Washington class… guided missile battleships…" Morrison muttered before slowly trailing off. Instead of flipping to the next page, he lingered for a moment.
"Washington class… guided missile battleships…" Morrison again muttered, now looking up from the paper, "They want to build another four of these things?"
"That would be correct," Mary confirmed, remembering the meeting in question. When the US Government learned the state of the military in 2281, the billions spent bringing it back up to code were used to… debatable effectiveness. One such case was the Washington class. A two-hundred-and-sixty-two-meter-long and thirty-two-meter-wide monster. They'd armed the thing with one hundred and ninety-two vertical launch missiles, eight Phalanx guns, four CIWS lasers, and two 155mm guns.
It was commissioned by Congress due to a belief that the newly designed Holsey and Indianapolis classes were not well armed enough. Which were both made to replace the stolen and or broken Arleigh Burkes. Even back then, Morrison did not believe the Washington class was a good idea. But if they weren't included in the budget, then Congress would bicker for another five weeks before any new equipment could be built.
So they built two of them, just two… until intel from the CIA arrived detailing a new class of Russian warship. Something called the Gromov class. Intel was spotty, and if anything, a few years late, but it said the ship was large and heavily armed. And that was all that was needed to send Congress into a spiral. Because now, the US Navy very clearly "needed" more Washingtons to counter this new threat.
"...I know I'm not a Navy man… but are these things even needed?" Morrison inquired to no one in particular, "Let alone wanted?"
If they needed more firepower on the seas, then they could just build more destroyers or cruisers. Why the hell would they spend all this money on one ship class? Carriers had the excuse of carrying aircraft. But the Washington class could be done by two Indianapolis classes, two Holseys, or even two Arleigh Burkes.
"I could schedule a meeting with the Admiralty," Mary offered, bringing her tablet up to adjust the schedule. But Morrison waved her off.
"It's already a bit late for that," Morrison replied, slowly bringing a hand to his face. The budget was already here, and by the time he figured out if these ships were a good or bad idea, it'd be too late to veto. Even then, it was the same case as 2281. If he vetoed it, then Congress would bicker for another five weeks, delaying more rearmament efforts. Procrastination and politics, how I loathe thee, Morrison thought to himself.