December 15, 1941

The coast of Singapore was ablaze with the fury of war. The combined might of the Azur Lane and ABDACOM fleets rained destruction upon the entrenched Japanese and Siren forces in the north. Battleships and cruisers unleashed relentless bombardments, their cannons roaring as they tore through the heavily fortified defensive positions. The sky above was a chaotic battlefield, filled with the distant whine of aircraft engines and the thunderous impact of anti-aircraft fire.

Amid the chaos, Zumwalt, sailed through the smoky waters with Javelin, the energetic Royal Navy Destroyer, by her side. Their mission was precise but crucial: eliminate high-value enemy targets with railgun bombardment to clear the way for ground forces.

Zumwalt’s advanced drone system hovered above the battlefield, scanning the terrain. Her targeting systems marked several enemy strongholds in red—armored bunkers, artillery positions, and hidden supply depots. Japanese defenders and Siren constructs manned these positions, desperately holding their ground against the overwhelming assault.

Her railgun cannon hummed as it reloaded another hypervelocity round. With a calculated breath, she locked onto the largest enemy bunker and fired.

A blinding streak of light cut through the smoke-filled sky. The kinetic projectile struck its mark with devastating force, obliterating the bunker in a thunderous explosion. The shockwave rippled across the battlefield, sending debris and bodies flying.

"Target eliminated." Zumwalt muttered, watching as more enemy positions were marked on her HUD.

Javelin, standing beside her, adjusted her grip on her twin-mounted cannons. "Whoa! That was awesome, Zummy!" She cheered, flashing a grin. "At this rate, the ground troops will have an easy time mopping up the rest!"

Down below, ABDACOM ground forces, composed of British, Dutch, Australian, and American troops, were already securing most of Singapore. The streets were littered with burning wreckage—Japanese Chi-Ha tanks reduced to smoldering husks, Siren automatons sprawled lifelessly on the cracked pavement, their glowing cores dimmed forever.

Despite the overwhelming firepower of Azur Lane and ABDACOM, the Japanese forces fought with unyielding determination. Even when outnumbered, they executed well-planned ambushes, held strategic choke points, and refused to surrender. But they were being systematically outmaneuvered.

The defenders faced relentless bombardments, airstrikes, and amphibious assaults from all directions. The beachheads had fallen, the key supply routes were severed, and their morale was breaking.

Zumwalt observed all of this through her drone feed, a small smile creeping onto her usually composed face.

"If this keeps up, the Japanese will think twice about continuing the fight." She mused aloud. "They might even seek a peace treaty."

Javelin perked up at this, tilting her head. "You really think so?"

Zumwalt folded her arms. "The Pacific front could be settled quickly. If Japan surrenders, we can shift our full attention to the war in Europe. The sooner we end that stalemate, the better."

Javelin let out a thoughtful hum, kicking at the deck playfully. "That’d be nice. War’s been going on too long, and I just wanna go back to having fun, you know?"

Zumwalt nodded, understanding her sentiment. "We all do. But for now, we finish the fight."

As if to punctuate her words, another enemy artillery position was marked on her HUD. Without hesitation, Zumwalt raised her hand, locking onto the target.

"Engaging."

Another railgun round screamed through the air, striking deep into the enemy lines. The siege of Singapore was nearing its end.

...
....

George kept her eyes locked on the radar screen, her fingers tense over the console. The blips were multiplying—300 enemy air units surging southward from Indochina. Her heart pounded, but she steadied her breath. She had been expecting this.

"Admiral, we have a situation," She said into her headset, keeping her voice level despite the mounting pressure. "300 enemy aircraft inbound from the north. I'm moving to intercept."

There was a brief pause before Admiral Halsey's voice crackled over the comms, firm yet laced with concern.

"Understood, George. Be careful. Enterprise and Hornet are en route to assist. Hold the line until they arrive."

"Roger that, sir."

She exhaled sharply. Her air formation—over 60 F-35Cs—was already primed for engagement, their air-to-air missiles loaded and targeting systems online. George didn't hesitate.

"Break into three squadrons and prepare for BVR engagement." She commanded. "Lock onto targets and fire at will."

A chorus of robotic affirmatives rang through her earpiece as the modern jets took position, their stealth coatings gleaming under the sun. Within seconds, the sky was alive with streaks of fire. The F-35Cs launched their AMRAAMs, sending waves of destruction toward the oncoming Japanese fighters. The antiquated Zeros, Hayabusas, and Ki-27s never stood a chance—before they could even close the distance, dozens were torn apart in the initial salvo.

But George knew it wouldn’t be that easy.

Then, the sky rippled.

An eerie hum reverberated through the comms as a hundred unfamiliar aircraft materialized, their sleek, almost unnatural designs cutting through the clouds. Their movements were precise, their formation impossibly coordinated.

"Siren fighters!" Someone from radio shouted.

George clenched her teeth. She had read reports about these spectral enemies, mechanical wraiths that defied conventional strategy. She even face few of them couple of day earlier. Unlike the outdated IJA and IJN aircraft, these were cutting-edge—possibly beyond even her own. Her F-35Cs had gone from hunters to the hunted.

"Keep formation! Prioritize evasion and counterattack where possible!" She ordered. But she could already feel the nervousness on her planes, as if they scared. They weren’t just fighting history—they were fighting the unknown.

Then, a familiar voice cut through the comms, light and confident.

"On your right!"

A streak of blue and white zipped past her bridge, followed by a formation of F4F Wildcats. The aircraft were old, but the way they moved was anything but. And leading them—her silver hair flowing, eyes sharp as steel—was Enterprise.

George’s lips curled into a smirk.

"Heh, thanks for the help."

"Hey, anything for My dear Junior." Enterprise’s voice was playful, but the way she maneuvered her aircraft was nothing short of lethal.

A second formation roared into view—Hornet, her golden locks catching the sunlight, leading another squadron of Wildcats. The sky erupted into chaos as the KAN-SEN joined the fray.

Side by side, they cut through the enemy ranks, tearing apart Siren fighters with relentless efficiency. George took a breath, pushing one of her F-35C into a tight roll as she lined up her next shot. The battle wasn’t over yet, but with these allies at her side, she knew they had a fighting chance.

And in the storm of missiles, bullets, and burning wreckage, one thought burned in her mind.

This war was far from over.

...
....

Cleveland let out a long sigh, adjusting the high ponytail she had styled her blonde hair into. Usually, she kept it tied to the side, a more casual and carefree look, but today was different. The debriefing with General Maxwell loomed ahead, and she needed to look sharp. Her American Army Officer jacket, borrowed for the occasion, fit snugly over her frame—petite for a grown woman, but her presence more than made up for it.

She gave herself one last look in the mirror, straightened her collar, and nodded. Satisfied.

As she stepped out of the bathroom, she immediately spotted Corporal Reyes leaning against the wall, waiting for her. Reyes, dressed in her standard-issue Army combat uniform just without armor plate, cut a striking figure. The olive fabric suited her well, complementing her tanned skin and sharp features. Her dark hair was tied back into a low ponytail, though a few stray strands had escaped, giving her a slightly unkempt yet effortlessly confident look.

Cleveland smiled. "Corporal, you ready?"

Reyes let out a breath. "Honestly? No. Who’s ever ready to meet the leader of the division?" She scoffed, though the slight smirk on her lips betrayed her nerves.

"Hey, you're my XO. Of course, you’re coming to this debrief." Cleveland shot her a mock scowl.

Reyes rolled her eyes, arms crossed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Let’s just get this over with. Don’t want to keep the General waiting."

They fell into step, walking side by side through the hastily secured hallways of the Singapore mayor’s building—now serving as General Maxwell’s temporary headquarters. The scent of dust, gunpowder, and sweat still clung to the air, remnants of the battle that had only just begun. They passed several soldiers from the 25th Infantry, their uniforms dirtied from the fighting, and a few of General Johnny’s Marines who offered brief nods of respect.

Cleveland returned the gestures, but her mind was already shifting to the debrief. She knew what she had to say, but would Maxwell see the bigger picture? The Siren research facility they had uncovered could change everything.

Before long, they arrived at the General’s office. The door was already slightly ajar, and inside, General Maxwell sat at his desk, scanning over several reports. He looked up as soon as he heard the knock.

"Ah, good. The two people I’ve been waiting for. Corporal, Sergeant—take a seat." His voice was calm but firm, the weight of command evident in his tone.

The two women sat across from him, backs straight, expressions composed. Cleveland cleared her throat before speaking.

"General, sir, may I begin?"

Maxwell gave her a nod. "Please."

Taking a deep breath, Cleveland launched into the report.

She recounted everything—from their covert landing with a small unit of ten soldiers, including Reyes, to their infiltration deep behind enemy lines. She detailed the destruction of Japanese naval and anti-tank artillery, the harrowing encounter with the hidden Siren research facility, and, most importantly, the capture of a Siren scientist.

Maxwell listened intently, his fingers steepled as he absorbed every word.

General Maxwell sat back in his chair, the leather creaking as he digested the details of Cleveland's report. The dim lantern light flickered against the war map spread before him, casting long shadows over the room. The strategic situation was evolving faster than expected, and the Siren facility captured in yesterday’s battle only added another layer of complexity.

Cleveland stood firm before his desk, her uniform slightly disheveled from the movement of her body. Despite being a shipgirl, she carried herself like a seasoned officer—disciplined, alert, and always ready for the next fight. Beside her, Sergeant Reyes was noticeably more nervous, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. She wasn’t as accustomed to standing in the presence of a general, but she kept her composure as best she could.

Maxwell's eyes softened slightly as he exhaled. "Well done, Cleveland. You make me proud." He said, offering a rare smile. "You want another promotion"

Cleveland blinked. Then, realizing he was serious, she grinned. "About damn time, sir."

Reyes merely nodded, still a little stiff in her stance. She wasn't used to promotions happening so casually. Cleveland, on the other hand, was more relaxed—perhaps because she had been Maxwell’s assistant for some time now.

"That's more or less the situation, sir." Cleveland added, finishing her debriefing.

Maxwell leaned forward, clasping his hands together. "I understand the broader picture. Now, let’s set that aside for a moment—I have another assignment for you both."

Cleveland and Reyes exchanged glances. Maxwell wasn’t the type to hand out tasks without good reason.

"Sir?" Cleveland prompted.

"I want you two to select the 30 best troops from the 25th Infantry or the ABDACOM forces stationed here." Maxwell said, his tone firm yet composed.

Cleveland furrowed her brows. "What for, sir?"

Maxwell met her gaze. "We're sending a specialized unit to assist the guerrillas resisting the Japanese occupation. We have sympathizers embedded throughout the islands, and this is a perfect chance for sabotage, espionage, and possibly locating other Siren facilities."

Reyes stiffened slightly. "Sabotage and espionage?" She echoed skeptically.

"You two have a good working dynamic." Maxwell continued, unfazed by her concern. "You already know each other and can adapt to the situation. And don’t worry—you won’t be alone. ONI agents and other Allied intelligence units are already operating in the field. The Japanese won’t see it coming."

Cleveland crossed her arms, processing the mission parameters. Something still felt off. Then it clicked. She narrowed her eyes at Maxwell. "Let me guess… I’m being sent in case we run into a Japanese shipgirl?"

Maxwell grinned. "Bingo."

Cleveland let out a slow breath. "I figured. Right now, Infantry has no weapons capable of taking down a shipgirl. So… fire against fire, huh?"

"Exactly. The Japanese have their own Kan-Sen operating in the region, and we can’t afford to be caught unprepared. You're one of our best assets, Cleveland. If things go south, you’re the only one who can level the playing field."

Cleveland glanced at Reyes, who still seemed unsure. It was a high-stakes mission—one that could get them both killed if they weren’t careful. But that wasn’t anything new.

After a moment, Cleveland sighed and nodded. "Alright. Give us a few days."

Maxwell nodded approvingly. "Make the most of them. We need to disrupt Japanese operations before they can consolidate their hold on the region. This is our golden opportunity."

He reached into his desk and handed Cleveland a thick dossier, the Allied insignia stamped on its cover. "This contains the full operational details. Study it well."

Cleveland took the file and gave a sharp salute before turning on her heel. Reyes followed suit, albeit with a bit less confidence.

As they stepped out of the command tent, the humid night air wrapped around them. The faint sound of distant artillery rumbled in the background, a grim reminder that the war never truly stopped. Cleveland, holding the dossier under one arm, nudged Reyes forward.

"Come on." She said. "We need a place to sit down and go through this."

They made their way through the camp, weaving between soldiers tending to equipment, medics treating the wounded, and mechanics repairing vehicles under dim lanterns. Their destination was the mess hall designated for Allied shipgirls—one of the few places where Cleveland could strategize without being stared at like some mythical being.

As they entered, only a few other Kan-Sen were present, either resting or quietly talking amongst themselves. A faint haze of cigarette smoke lingered in the air. No one paid them much attention.

Cleveland dropped the dossier onto the table and pulled up a chair. Reyes sat across from her, still looking a little uneasy.

"So." Cleveland exhaled, flipping open the file. "We need to pick thirty of the best. No rookies, no second chances. If this mission goes wrong, we won't get reinforcements."

Reyes swallowed. "You think we’ll run into one of them?"

Cleveland didn’t need to ask who she meant. The Imperial Japanese Navy’s shipgirls were deadly, disciplined, and utterly loyal to their cause. If one of them appeared, things would escalate fast.

"We prepare for the worst." Cleveland said. "And if we run into one? We take the shot."

Reyes hesitated but eventually nodded.

Cleveland smirked slightly, trying to lighten the mood. "Besides, I've been itching for a good fight."

Reyes chuckled dryly. "Yeah… let’s just hope we get to pick when that fight happens."

Cleveland glanced down at the classified documents in front of her, the weight of the mission settling in. This wasn’t going to be a simple operation. If they failed, the Japanese would tighten their grip, and the war in the Pacific would take a turn for the worse.

No pressure.

With a deep breath, Cleveland pulled the file closer. "Alright. Let’s get to work."

As Cleveland and Reyes pored over the thick dossier from General Maxwell, the dimly lit mess hall hummed with the quiet murmurs of other shipgirls and officers enjoying a rare moment of rest. The scent of coffee mixed with the distant smell of oil and gunpowder that never seemed to leave the air.

Then, the soft click of polished boots against the wooden floor signaled the arrival of someone new.

A tall, regal woman strode toward them, her presence immediately commanding attention. She was stunning—short blonde hair framing her sharp yet elegant features, piercing blood-red eyes that held an air of authority, and a noble red shirt that contrasted with the practical black skirt she wore underneath. She exuded both the grace of the Royal Navy and the battle-hardened confidence of a warrior who had seen her fair share of combat.

"Cleveland! I finally found you here." The woman greeted warmly, her lips curling into a refined smile.

Cleveland looked up, blinking in surprise before grinning. "Ahh! Wales!"

She quickly turned to Reyes, gesturing toward the newcomer. "Reyes, this is my friend from the Royal Navy, HMS Prince of Wales—a King George V-class battleship and one of Britain's finest."

Reyes immediately straightened in her seat. "Miss Wales, Nice to meet you." She said quickly, though her nervousness betrayed her formal tone.

Wales chuckled, shaking her head in amusement. "No need to be so formal, Miss Reyes. Cleveland’s friends are my friends as well. No need to be so tense."

Reyes let out a small breath, her shoulders relaxing a bit. The Royal Navy battleship had an air of nobility, but she wasn’t unapproachable.

Wales turned back to Cleveland, her gaze shifting between her and the thick dossier. "So, Cleve, what brings you to the mess with the… Corporal?" She squinted slightly, spotting Reyes’ rank insignia.

Cleveland hesitated, fingers tapping the edge of the file. "I, uh… I don’t know if I can tell you that, Wales."

Reyes gave a small nod, reinforcing the need for secrecy. A covert mission was a covert mission, regardless of alliances.

Wales, however, only smiled knowingly. "Oh, come now. You don’t have to be so secretive." She paused, then tilted her head slightly. "Let me guess—General Maxwell of the 25th sent you on a mission in Indochina?"

Cleveland’s eyes widened in shock. "How do you know?!"

Wales let out a soft, amused laugh. "Simple. I received the same order from General Percival. We are allies, remember?"

Cleveland and Reyes exchanged embarrassed glances, feeling momentarily foolish for trying to hide something from an ally who had already been briefed.

Reyes cleared her throat, composing herself. "Apologies, Miss Wales. We didn’t mean to play games with you—we just didn’t know you were included in this operation."

Wales waved a hand dismissively. "It’s quite alright. I merely came to offer cooperation. It’s better to work together in situations like these, don’t you think?" She placed a gloved hand on her hip, her sharp eyes scanning the two women before her. "Besides, I’ve already secured a few men from the British Army who might prove useful for the mission. They can be ungentlemanly but the enemy won't care, right?"

Cleveland glanced at Reyes again, silently asking for her input. Reyes, though still a little hesitant, gave a small nod.

Cleveland turned back to Wales. "We accept your offer, Wales. Thank you."

Wales smiled, satisfied. "You’re welcome. Now… shall we go over that dossier together?" She motioned toward the thick file still in Cleveland’s hands.

Cleveland smirked. "Of course!"

The mess hall grew quieter as the trio delved into the classified dossier, flipping through pages filled with maps, intercepted communications, and intelligence reports.

Cleveland, Reyes, and Wales leaned over the document, their faces illuminated by the dim yellow light of the overhead lamps. Each piece of information they absorbed painted a clearer picture of their mission—one that would take them deep into enemy territory, behind Japanese lines, and into the heart of Indochina’s dense jungles.

"The attack will be carried out in multiple phases." Reyes murmured, tracing her finger over a marked map. "We’ll establish contact with the local guerrillas here, near the border of Laos and Vietnam. Their leader, a former officer from the French colonial forces, has agreed to support us in exchange for weapons and supplies."

Wales nodded. "It’s a fair deal. If we can bolster their resistance, they’ll serve as a useful distraction when we move in to sabotage key Japanese installations."

Cleveland flipped to the next section, detailing the enemy’s composition. "Based on reconnaissance, the Japanese have stationed roughly 15,000 troops in the region. Infantry, tanks, and a handful of artillery units—but that’s not what worries me."

She tapped the list of confirmed Imperial assets.

"Multiple Japanese shipgirls have been sighted in the area. Takao, Atago, and possibly Nagato herself."

Reyes let out a low whistle. "Heavy hitters. If Nagato is involved, that means the High Command sees this place as more than just a strategic foothold."

Wales exhaled sharply. "That’s not all. The dossier suggests there’s more than just Japanese military presence here—Siren facilities have been identified as well. Not just research installations, but fully operational military outposts."

Cleveland frowned, flipping through the grainy black-and-white photos taken by reconnaissance aircraft. The structures were unlike anything the Japanese could have built—massive metallic spires with glowing cores, surrounded by angular buildings that seemed to pulse with an eerie light.

"Siren bases… in Indochina?" Reyes muttered in disbelief. "That means the Japanese aren’t just fighting with the Sirens, they might be collaborating with them on something even bigger."

"Or worse." Wales said darkly. "They’re using the Sirens’ technology to bolster their war machine."

A heavy silence settled between them. This was no longer just about sabotaging enemy supply lines or assisting the resistance—this was about uncovering a deeper conspiracy that could tip the balance of the entire war.

Cleveland let out a slow breath, processing the implications. Then, something else caught her attention.

Wales, sitting across from her, had pulled out a cigarette and was lighting it with a small silver lighter. Cleveland raised an eyebrow as the smell of tobacco filled the air.

"Wait, since when do you smoke?" Cleveland asked, genuinely surprised.

Wales exhaled a thin stream of smoke, her expression unreadable. "Since Hood sank."

Cleveland felt a pang of guilt for asking. She glanced at Reyes, who remained silent, sensing the weight of Wales’ words.

"It’s a coping mechanism." Wales continued, her voice quieter now. "I was there when it happened. When Hood exploded. One moment, she was sailing strong, and the next… gone. Just like that."

The memory seemed to linger in Wales' eyes, a ghost from the past that refused to fade.

Cleveland hesitated before speaking. "I—… I’m sorry, Wales."

Wales gave a faint smile, though there was little warmth in it. "We all lose someone in war, Cleve. I just happen to have lost my closest friend at the hands of Bismarck."

She took another drag from the cigarette, her eyes staring at something far beyond the walls of the mess hall.

Reyes, shifting uncomfortably, finally spoke. "That just means we have more reason to fight, right? To make sure none of this suffering is in vain?"

Wales looked at her for a long moment, then nodded. "Yes. We fight, so others don’t have to endure the same pain."

Cleveland clenched her fist. "Then we better make damn sure this mission is a success."

She closed the dossier with a decisive snap.

Wales crushed her cigarette into a nearby ashtray, standing up. "Agreed. We move forward, together."

Reyes exhaled and nodded. "Then let's get to work."

TBC.