id: 328
name: Fankasia: Subanon
author: IsekaiSS
date: 16th March 2021
text len: 49091
views: 326

Anon looked across the sea through his binoculars. Waves lapped the sides of the submarine. The hangar’s door lay open beneath him, missing one plane. His first mate, Terry was also on lookout. 
"i still can't believe the Kataclysm left these islands untouched." Terry said, trying to break the monotony of crashing waves.
"Me neither, It was rather convenient that there was no landmass for them to merge with." Anon replied
"these bastards are all about convenient coincidences." grunted terry.
Anon sighed and stowed his binoculars, leaning on the guard rail. this was the worst part of his job, waiting for intelligence. Was this really a Job? it wasn't really mercenary work, but they could keep whatever treasures they found, so that was kind of like pay. The new world’s technology almost completely eliminated the expenses usually attributed with running such a massive craft as an I-400 submarine. A sudden realization hit Anon like a torpedo.
"My God! We're pirates, aren't we?" He slapped his forehead for dramatic effect.
"Did you only just realise hunting and killing people, then taking their stuff is piracy?" Terry smirked
"I always thought of us as self employed mercenaries. Besides, we only kill people that deserve it" 
"Paying yourself to go kill people is retarded. Principled piracy is still piracy" 
"when did the plane say they'd be back?" anon changed the subject, pushing the desire to fly a jolly roger to the back of his mind. 
Terry pulled a map from his breast pocket. It showed most of the New Americas, a twisted parody of its former self after the apocalyptic world-merging that had happened three years prior. Unfortunately, most maps were incomplete due to exploring being difficult and dangerous. But aviation was coming back into full swing, so Anon figured the world had another year or two of mystery before it was mapped out.
“James said that he’d meet us here at midday” Terry said, pointing to a point on the map. “We are where we have to be, so he should be around in the next hour or two. Then, we can fold his plane back up, and get underway”
Anon nodded, and continued looking out at the ocean. Below him, the men were out on the deck, soaking in the sun, enjoying the open air, chatting up some goddamn mermaids that showed up at some point. Anon was not a fan of mermaids. Between getting caught in his propellers, sucked into the ballast tanks and all the sexual harassment, he had just about written off the species as pests. The bastards had gotten wary of the submarine, so there hadn't been any casualties in a while, but that didn’t let the fish-faces off the hook. A few racial slurs flung from the conning tower sent the mermaids retreating into the ocean. The men weren't impressed, but they should have known better than to consort with mermaids within Anon’s sight. He scowled and retrieved his binoculars, staring out to the horizon again. 

He doubted their quarry could have shot James down, both because of the Quarry’s inability and James’ ability. Without serious flak, they couldn’t hope to take his flying ace. Fortunately, Old-world elites were too cowardly to have gunfire so close to their little pleasure domes. Anon felt giddy with just the thought of finally ridding the world of that scum. So far, He had hunted a drug trader, a slaver and a kidnapper. Their final confessions had each given him little bits of string that had led him this far, and the time was nigh to use that string to hang the bastards.
“Finally.” terry sighed, putting down his binoculars
“What? Where?” anon whirled around, spotting the dot hovering just above the horizon.
“Hangar crew, get ready to receive our scout” Terry called some of the men. 
The Seiran torpedo bomber touched down a hundred meters away, letting its momentum carry it the rest of the way to the I-400. James stood in the cabin and waved. The hangar crew swiveled the submarine's crane into position to begin the retrieval process. Some remarked with disappointment that the 250kg bombs were still present on the plane's underside. 
"There'll be plenty of opportunities for painting victory marks, very soon” James laughed, patting his already numerous marks. Once the seiran had been hoisted onto the sub, james and his gunner climbed the conning tower to deliver his findings to Anon. 
"Did you find them?" anon asked before james had even finished climbing the ladder.
"Yes, in fact they're on a party cruise at this very minute" james said proudly while helping Andrew, his brother and rear gunner, up the last rung of the ladder.
"Excellent" Anon beamed at the news.
Andrew handed Anon a map similar to Terry's, but with some hand drawn course and location details.
While anon studied the map, Terry conversed with the two airmen about their trip. James had enjoyed the straightforward flight.  Andrew hadn't got to shoot anything, and had to draw the map. They had found the yacht exiting the port that their latest victim had pointed them to. Andrew had noted their location, speed and heading, then headed back before the yacht got suspicious.
“Its not going too fast, its a cruise after all, so we can head them off around here” Anon rejoined the conversation, pointing to an island between them and the yacht.
After the seiran was stowed, Anon gave the order for everyone to get below deck and get underway. 
The Rune Engineers in the engine rooms started the engines, drawing on massive reserve crystals for fire energy. New world 3ngines were greatly varied compared to the internal combustion engines of the old world. There were many ways to utilise magic to drive a vehicle, it just depended on the elemental specialty of the magician. A fire-driven engine like the i-400s was similar to an old world engine. Fire runes were engraved on the ends of the pistons which, when fired, drove the axle. The fuel crystals used to contain the fire energy were scaled up versions of crystals used by low level mages. Anon’s favourite part about this system was that the magic energy required for operation was generated by the crew. Fortunately, in merging with the new world, the ability for magic was bestowed upon them as it was with the humans of the new world.
The sun was high above as the I-400 set sail for their interception point.

The command room was dimly lit with red light as Anon, Terry and their officers prepared their plan of attack.They wouldn't torpedo it immediately, that would destroy valuable information and equally important slaves. They would board the ship, however, this presented a huge problem as they had no idea of the internal layout of the yacht beyond having "three or four levels and something like 200m long” according to Andrew. Where flak was out of the question, armed guards were like air and water in importance for the survival of Elites.  Anon disliked these situations, even his assault team could take casualties in the maze-like corridors of a ship. But, he would have to deal with that risk, that's why they got a bigger share of the spoils after all. Anon slapped his head again.

“We were seriously paying people in shares and I didn't realise we were pirates?”
“To be fair, you never had much of a hand in the finances”
Anon nodded and reviewed the plan
"We'll board from the back of the yacht, off our inflatables. the combat team will clear the tower first, with me following. If we find the head honcho up there, we'll interrogate and brain him, then free whatever slaves they've got aboard. If we don't find him that quickly, Terry will have the sub circling with orders to blow away anything that tries escaping. Hopefully we find him before Terry does, but what happens will happen.“
“With any luck, he can lead us to his friends, these sorts of people like keeping dirt on each other” said Terry

“Well, if that’s sorted out, i’ll go and brief the Assault team”

The assault team gathered around Anon in the bunk room. They were in various states of preparedness. Anon had standardised most equipment, rune enhanced K3-3 helmets and body armour made them nigh indestructible from the front, while ks-23 shotguns were able them punch holes through the hide of orcs and other tough races that tended to be bodyguards these days. Where the food was somewhat lacking, Anon spared no expense when equipping his boarding troops. 
Anon informed them of the plan. They were excited just to get to do something for the first time in a while.in celebration Medicinal pervitin was had by all. Anon decided to leave, as he did not have as good armour as the assault team and a negligent discharge was not the way he wanted to go. As he walked back to the bridge, he listened to the soft humming of the submarine. It was fortunate that machines like his I-400 were being produced, mostly for the Lord General’s militias. But fankasia was a world of opportunity for men of motivation. 
Anon thought about what he would say to the people he would interrogate as he walked down the claustrophobic corridor. The dull red lighting of the submarine made him think of more violent interrogation methods. He wasn’t big on torture, but he would do what had to be done to rid the world of the evil he’d set out against. The distorted voice of Terry echoed through the P.A system to let the crew know the Enemy had been sighted. 

A few minutes later anon burst onto the deck, pulling on his “going-out clothes”. The Hangar crew were preparing the inflatables for the boarding party. 
“Captain” nodded the Supervisor.
“Good evening, is everything ready?”
“Ready within the minute, Sir”
Anon looked to the well-lit ship that was their target. It was big, bigger than the I-400 even. Such a craft had to have been at sea for the konvergence, because it would have been destroyed if it was in port and only the Lord general had the industry to build such great machines anymore. 
It would sell for a ton
They were soon joined by the Assault team, fully equipped and looking like a true goon squad. With their arrival, and the inflatables completion, the operation begun

The stern of the Yacht was a party, as always. Everyone, including and especially the Orc guards, were drunk. The guests had been partying since the yacht left port. There were many people on the stern deck, but only one managed to notice the dark shape of another vessel, one that curiously had no lights.Amarille, one of the servant girls, managed to spot the I-400’s silhouette in the darkness, Elves had better senses than humans, and it was because of that, she managed to hear a mechanical roaring passed the thumping music. She wandered down to the lower part of the deck to get a better look at the sea. There she heard what were definitely engines, getting closer very fast. Out of the darkness sped five small boats. The light from the yacht allowed her to see black-uniformed soldiers, their faces concealed by bulky helmets. Before she could do anything, the boats slammed into the yacht right in front of her. Immediately, the soldiers thundered past her, knocking her off balance. Before she could fall off the deck, a hand caught her hand

"Don't fall in there, the mermaids will get you." Anon warned


Anon pulled the servant girl safely back onto the deck, then quickly followed his men up the stairs, where the devastating power of the ks-23 shotgun was shown firsthand to the orcs. Some were managing to return fire with an assortment of machine pistols even with massive wounds.  
Anon smiled at the panicked screams of the yacht’s guests as they ran for cover. The orcs’ sturdiness amazed anon, they were still fighting even after incurring massive damage. Like a P-47 or B-17, they refused to allow mere bullet holes to take them down. Such tenacity was admirable, he thought as an orc caught a slug to his chest, but futile. The orc fell, blood gushing from his newly opened ribcage.

“Excellent work, be careful in there.” anon said, as what was left of the defenders were killed or retreated.

Anon surveyed his men’s handiwork. Where there had been guards or clusters of guests were lay ruins and bloody pulp. Metal, wood and flesh alike had been destroyed. He nodded in approval. The servants on deck had largely been spared, one could not control the spread of buckshot unfortunately. He looked over the survivors. Anon could tell they were servants by the little collars they all wore, probably some sort of mind control device. They were all scantily clad women of varying race, though humans and elves seemed to be the favourite. The elf girl he had saved from mermaid molestation finally came up the stairs. She looked like she wished she hadn’t as she seemed distressed at the scene.
Watching the elf girl break down made Anon wonder if he’d become a bit heartless when it came to seeing the rent flesh of his fellow man.

“Are you alright?” he asked, already knowing the answer

“No! Very clearly no! How are you alright? You Humans are meant to be a little empathetic arent you!” she screamed, showing a decent handle on English, to Anon’s surprise.

“We’re less empathetic towards evil humans, and removing them from the world is our responsibility” Anon said, turning to follow his men into the Yacht’s superstructure.

“Stay out here, We’ll be done before the sun rises, and you'll be free.” he called over his shoulder.


Half an hour had passed since boarding, and the troops had made excellent progress. they only got more effective as the environment became more constricted. 
Anon strode down a hallway lifted with shell casings and bodies, listening to his radio as the boarding crew cleared rooms and presumably, came closer to the capture of their target. The radio reported that they believed they had found the room where the target was, in the hull of the ship. Anon took off running at that, there was a considerable distance to where he had to be.
By the time Anon arrived, the boarding crew were stacked up at the door to the suspected room. 
“Let ‘em have it!” Anon shouted as he joined the stack.

The leader shot the handle to the door, pulverising it and allowing the door to be thrown open, The lead man was shot three times in the face of his helmet as he stepped into the door. The leader stumbled out of the doorway, only to be replaced by the second and third of the stack. Screamed threats and the rest of the stack rushing in prompted a quick surrender. Anon walked in last, observing a scene exactly as he’d imagined.
Copious amounts of drugs, alcohol and illegally young girls. Anon’s face scrunched into a look of absolute disgust. 
“Geoffrey Stepstein, I am utterly displeased to have made your acquaintance. And i expect you will feel similarly very soon”

After removing the girls, drugs and most of the alcohol, Geoffrey, their target and another man were tied to chairs in preparation for interrogation. Anon sat in his own chair across from them. Each of the pedophiles were flanked by two of Anon’s heaviest hitting men each. Anon ensured neither the glass or whiskey he had found had anything suspicious about them before
“I have some questions for the both of you, but first...”  Anon said as he took a quick sip “...Who are you?” he pointed to geoffrey's accomplice.

"Go to hell, you dumb-" the man began to spit in a nasally voice.
Before he could finish, the soldier standing behind him slugged him across the face. The two soldiers flanking the unknown man took turns punching him, Tactical gloves colliding with flesh in time like a drum beat. Anon waited for him to be suitably tenderized before he signalled for them to stop.
"Who are you?" Anon asked calmly.
The man struggled to talk past his tenderized face.
"Gowdbwerg" he spluttered

"A Jewish pedophile? That's a rather anti-semetic stereotype don't you think?" Anon said as he took another sip of whiskey.

"Anyway, do you have anything you want to tell me?" Anon's eyes bored into his prisoners.
The two shared a quick look, but neither seemed willing to say anything. Anon shrugged and his soldiers began working the two over. Anon listened to the dull thuds as he slowly drank. Once he had finished, he signalled to stop again. Anon repeated his question. When he again received no answer, anon sighed

"You know things I want to know.  My men will only beat you until I finish this second glass, then we will start taking fingers" anon held up his refilled glass, and a rusty butter knife. 

"Jesus Christ..." Geoffrey squeaked from behind a broken nose.
"I doubt he'll get you out of this, but your mouth just might." anon stated, flicking his knife for dramatic effect.
"Okay okay. I'll talk" Geoffrey whimpered, earning an angry look from Goldstein.
 
Anon inwardly smirked. The rusty knife always worked, nobody wanted to lose their fingers or get tetanus.
"Go ahead" Anon waved his hand.

"The World Order is going to have the Lord General assassinated in three months" 

Anon choked mid-sip, causing the whiskey to go down the wrong way, burning his throat.
"WHAT" Anon spurted

"Isn't that what this is about?"

"It is now! Tell me everything or so help me God I will cut you to pieces" slammed his knife into his chairs armrest.

Geoffrey spilled the beans, throwing Goldberg into a fit of rage. Anon had him shut up almost instantly. 

After the Konvergence, the dimension housing the Old World crashed down on top of the New World, merging the two planets. This brought about an apocalyptic few months as landmasses overlapped, suddenly engulfing cities and villages in mountains or seas. Then came a tectonic freakout, earthquakes and tsunamis shaking up whatever was left. Anon knew that much, but what he didn’t know was the remnants of the CIA, Mossad and many other intelligence agencies and shadowy world figures formed a little club for world domination. The wrench in their plan was the Lord General. He slipped into the new world a few years early, and became a very powerful warlord with his knowledge of modern technology. After the konvergence kicked in properly, his territories remained mostly intact, cementing him as a world power. That is to say, his stuff was a lot less banged up then  everyone else’s, so he was marginally stronger than the other forces of the world. The World Order's problem with him was that he was not controlled by them, and was extraordinarily good at foiling their plots through sheer stubbornness. He could not be politically maneuvered around due to his dictatorship and was a tough opponent for even skilled assassins. But not even he could not do much about a cruise missile, which was the current iteration of their plan. All Geoffrey could tell them about it was that it was very big and was to be launched from a ship setting out from Israel. 

"And what proof do you have that this is real, documents or anything" Anon asked

Geoffrey nodded to the corner of the room, where a briefcase had been discarded. Anon retrieved the case, opening it with great caution in case of booby traps. When the briefcase failed to explode, he started withdrawing papers. The first page he drew out was a list of agents in proximity to the Lord General that needed to be informed and extracted. Anon skimmed through the papers, looking at seals and signatures until he was satisfied.

Anon turned to Goldstein "anything you want to add to that?"

"No" he spat

"Okay" Anon drew his walther P38 and shot Goldstein in the knee. 

Goldstein screamed and thrashed about. The soldiers had to grab him to stop his chair toppling over.

"You've still got another knee, Goldstein, don't squander it on this" Anon chastised 

"I once told a German I was a holocaust survivor to get money out of him!" He cried

"This isn't a confessional, retard" hovered his pistol over Goldstein's other knee.

"I was the guy behind Bill Nye's netflix series!" Goldberg screamed, apparently in complete hysterics.

"Okay, I don’t have time for this. Fuck you" anon drew his pistol up to goldbergs face and pulled the trigger.

Geoffrey swore, eyes fixed on the P38 in fear.


”H-hey, I told you what I know man, you’ll let me go right?” he stammered.

"Unfortunately, No. I believe that this new world is like a new home, why would you bring trash from the old home into the new? Long live the Lord General, scumbag" Anon calmly stated, bringing his pistol to bear.

Geoffrey's face twisted with anger as he spat his last few curses. 

Anon took a few deep breaths, then finished his whiskey. He picked up the briefcase and holstered his pistol, his mind trying to pull together his next step.

"Looks like we went hunting for kobolds and found a dragon" he half heartedly joked to his soldiers.


Anon marched back out of the yacht superstructure to find the remainder of the soldiers. Anon had planned to have a few of his men and the servants sail the ship to port, where it could be sold. Unfortunately, Anon doubted he could sell it or even bring it back to port without drawing the attention from the illuminati wannabes. He reasoned that the best course of action was to make the ship disappear at sea.  Anon quietly spread news of the change of plans, and addressed the servants.

"If there is anything you want on this boat, now is the time to take it. Circumstances have forced us to sink this vessel."

A few servants rushed off, presumably to retrieve keepsakes or such. They were quickly followed by the rest after anon confirmed 'anything' included their former master's possessions. While  non radioing Terry to bring the sub in to retrieve everyone, ferrying the hundred or so servants with the inflatables was not something he wanted to waste time on. As Anon talked with Terry he had a feeling of being watched. He stared out at the dark form of the Sub as it began to move closer and holstered his radio. He turned to see the elf servant girl from earlier looking at him, as if wondering how to approach him. Anon kicked his boot on the deck, wondering the same thing. Eventually the Elf caved and sidled over to a bench next to Anon. 

“Who are you people?”she asked, staring out at the dark form of the submarine

“Just some thugs cleaning up the low-lifes that deserve it” 

“Does that mean I'm a hostage now?”

Anon looked at her concerned face in confusion. Then he vaguely remembered some political conflict between the elven nation and the General.

“No, what happens outside of my submarine is none of my business, we’ll drop you off back at port.” 

"What's a sub-muhreen?" The elf cocked her head to one side at the unfamiliar word.

“It’s a ship that can sink when it needs to”

“So it's cursed” she concluded

“It's not cursed, it was made that way to be stealthy.”
“It seems like you got sold a cursed ship, and now you’re pretending it was worth the money.”

 “It’s not! It takes in water to reduce buoyancy, allowing to to sink in a controlled-”  Anon was beginning to get frustrated

The elf smiled. She seemed to enjoy Anon’s discomfort, her smug expression reminded him of a goblin that had stolen a shiny button. Anon sighed as he felt the I-400 pull alongside the yacht. 
Anon never felt comfortable around elves at the best of times. They were a strange race, with perfect faces that seemed to have never known damage or age. They also possessed a great sensitivity to magic, and some developed powers strange to even by New World standards. And, though he hadn’t heard anyone else talk about it, Anon thought the way they moved was weird. With humans it was fairly easy to see how their body took the shock of each step, a slight bobbing of the head and such. But with elves, they just seemed to glide from one foot to the other like a wind was blowing them smoothly across the ground. It all added up to an uncanny image. An image that anon was not a fan of.
Anon stood and excused himself, he had captain things to do.

Anon retreated to his troops as they were placing a gangplank from the I-400 to the yacht. To his dismay, he was followed closely by the elf, doing that weird elf walk. 

With the briefcase tight in his grip, Anon crossed the gangplank. He greeted the men on the other side and gave the order to begin the evacuation of the yacht. Anon told the elf to stay and follow the soldier's orders because he had to go do important captain things. She reluctantly stayed behind, but he could feel her eyes on him as she climbed the conning tower to the bulkhead. 
Anon felt relieved as the bulkhead clanked closed above him. Now that he was back in his territory, he had a clear head to weigh his options. Terry was stalking around the the bridge crew, ensuring the various systems of the ship were functioning and nothing was out of order while the servants were boarding 

“Terry, we’re in the deep end this time.” Anon patted the briefcase

“Isn’t that the point of a sub?”

“Shut up, this is important. We have some S-class illuminati bullshit we have to deal with. First though, it's better if this yacht is “lost at sea”.

“Alright, send word up to Torpedo rooms 1 and 2 to man battlestations”

After the servants had boarded and been safely received in the bunkrooms and wherever there was free floorspace, Anon began issuing orders to the engine rooms to back the submarine away from the yacht. Anon felt the calming roar of the engines shake the frame of the submarine. With some small adjustments of the rudder, the sub lined up the yacht. Anon felt a knot in his stomach, knowing such a vessel was practically irreplaceable in this day and age. The first time he tried to give the order, his voice cracked, forcing him to have a coughing fit to cover it up. Anon calmed himself and cleared his throat.

“Tubes 1 and 2 , Fire”

Anon watched through the periscope as two streaks of bubbles sped away towards the yacht. The torpedoes crashed into it a minute later with twin explosions at the bow and stern. Water was thrown high into the air as the sea shook with the impact. The Yacht listed to the side as water gushed through the ruined craters in the yacht’s hull. Anon watched for a while as it inched further and further underwater. For A second Anon worried that the Illuminati people might get suspicious if one of their buddies goes missing along with all that important paperwork. Then Anon remembered that the New World’s oceans housed far more awful creatures than mermaids. And there were more than a few capable of taking such a craft as the yacht, especially if it had no protection runes as it seemed to.
The mere thought of the great beasts of the new world's deep sea made anon's skin crawl. He had seen one, once, in the sunken Mexico city. through his binoculars, it looked like someone had resurrected the USS Iowa, but Anon knew as well as anybody the tidal wave that hit LA swept away everything in the waterfront. But there it was, a bit rusty where the paint has peeled off, but very much afloat. Anon tried to radio them a few times, but with no answer. Then as he got closer he noticed some things, the way it moved, the odd pattern of the wake, and still wet algae growing on the conning tower. Anon knew something was very wrong and turned the sub around at full bore. The Iowa turned on the spot, and increased its already formidable speed. Because of the speed, the front of the hull rose out of the water. Anon saw the underside of the battleship, a fleshy mass, with a great shark-like maw pointed directly at him.

"Anon?" A voice forced Anon to snap back to reality

His eyes refocused to see the elf from before waving her hand in front of his face.

"Gah! What the fuck are you doing on my bridge?" Anon Jerked back, knocking his head on a low hanging radio box. "Fuck!"

"She wanted to talk with you,so we let her in." Terry interjected "and the yacht has fully sunk while you've been spacing out"

"Okay,what was it you wanted to talk about? And I dont think I got your name." Anon recovered quickly.

"My name is Amarille" she moved in closer so that she wouldnt be heard by the others "i have heard you work for the Lord General"

“That we do, Its my job to kill men like Stepstein, otherwise, i can do whatever i want”

Amarille did not look happy with that. 

“Was he the one who gave you this weird, metal, cursed ship?”

“Yes, and it's not cursed, you just lack basic knowledge of the world around you”

“I bet he got sick of you and sent you away on this sink-ship”

“This command is an honour and a privilege, this is the single most powerful ship to grace the New World’s oceans. And i will put you in a torpedo tube at depth if you continue to insult it”

“Aww did i hurt your feelings because your General got sick of you sent you away on a suicide boat” she giggled

The entire bridge crew looked at the interaction between the now-irate Anon and the smug Amarille. He quickly seized her wrist as she was distracted laughing. He gave the order to dive to 100m and with her in tow, he marched out of the bridge. He dragged her down ladders and along corridors, giving a monologue as they went

“Did you know that at 100 metres down, the pressure makes it so that you can’t even breath normal air anymore, even if you had the gear necessary to breath underwater. The pressure isn’t enough to crush you, but you can easily get disorientated. But you try to get to the surface too quickly, you get the Bends, where nitrogen gets into your bloodstream, and you get sick underwater, pass out and drown. Or die before you even get to surface anyway” Anon recalled everything he possibly could about how fucked a person stranded deep underwater was.

They hadn’t got halfway to the torpedo rooms before Amarille went from smug to incoherent crying mess. The deep ocean was enough to scare anyone, let alone a elf, who, to anon’s knowledge, didn't do much more in the ocean than fish in shallow waters. 

“I’m sorrrrryyyy, please don’t kill meeeeeeeeee” she blubbered.

Anon sighed.

“I wasn't actually going to kill you, but my job is serious business, and I absolutely cannot allow such blatant undermining of my authority on my own ship, and especially on the bridge. It could lead to a mutiny down the track if i’m seen as weak and the situation is desperate enough.”

“o-okay, i’m sorry” Amarille sniffled

“I’ll let it slide, just go find somewhere to sleep, and we’ll be in port tomorrow, alright?” he patted her shoulder and went back to the bridge.

“Smooth as sandpaper, Captain” Jack the Sonar guy remarked as Anon stepped back into the bridge.

“Fuck you Jack” Anon kicked the back of his seat.

Anon transferred the papers from the briefcase to a safe where he kept other important documents, like letters from the Lord General and Terry’s divorce papers that say he doesn’t have to pay alimony (no matter how hard his bitch Ex-wife whines). 
Anon took his time ensuring the yacht was all underwater, with only some small bits of floating debris to show it was ever there. He and Terry plotted a course to Miami port, they couldn't drag all the servants halfway to Europe and back.. They may have the fuel, but not the food. Anon then started harassing the sonar and radio people for anything they needed. Eventually he just started playing with the periscope. Anon jumped as a hand clamped down on his shoulder.

“Anon, you’ve done enough tonight. I can take us back to port, go get some sleep” Terry said

“alright" anon reached for some maps. 

Terry's grip tightened

“No, no more working, we’ve got a long few weeks ahead of us.” Terry slapped his hands.

Anon raised his hands in surrender and shuffled out of the room, trying to steal any bit of paperwork that was lying around, but to no avail.

Anon had to step over servants as they lined the floors and right about every horizontal surface. Some of the assault team stuck around as guards to make sure they didnt fiddle with or steal anything. Anon walked past them with a quick greeting.
It took Anon a little longer to get to his room than usual due to the excess of people in the hallway.

He slowly opened the door into the dully lit room. A small desk and a cramped bed was all that could fit into the tiny room. He put his holster and plate carrier on the desk and took his boots off. He had only just begun settling into bed when there was a knock at his door.

“Come in” Anon called, thinking it was Terry that needed him to do something after all

When the door opened however, it was Amarille that stepped in.
“Hi Anon, I there doesn't seem to be space anywhere for me to sleep, I was wondering if I could stay here with you?” She tapped her fingers together as she nervously waited for his answer.

Anon sighed. He wasnt sure if it she was fucking with him again. There were a lot of servants from the yacht on board, and it's not like subs are very spacious. He decided there was no harm in letting her stay one night.

“Sure, i won’t make you sleep on the floor, but stay on your side of the bed” Anon said, shifting over in the already small bed

He felt bad about the scene from before, so he was willing to be nice for now. He felt Amarille slip into the bed beside him. Despite the unfamiliar presence, he still went to sleep very quickly. The engines hummed a lullaby that always seemed to work on him. The previous few days without sleep also aided his quick passing out.

As Anon dreamed, he could still hear the drone of the submarine engine. It had become a constant that anon could not relax without. His dreams were never interesting, usually just flashes of what he’d seen that day, James coming in to land, catching Amarille on the back of the Yacht, interrogating Stepstein and Goldberg, then the stuff he did on the bridge.

Anon woke when he heard the engines cut out. He found Amarille to be wrapped around him. He sighed, from what he’d got to know over their few interactions, it was to be expected. Maybe next time he would tell her the opposite of what he wants her to do. The door creaked open slightly. Terry poked his head in

“We’ve reached Miami, Capitan” Terry smiled and gave a thumbs up from the safety of the hallway. 

Anon glared at him from his position wedged in Amarille’s chest. They both knew that Terry didn’t have to wake him up to tell him that. Terry just wanted to see anon had got up to. He squinted in the darkness at the clock, it was still in the very early morning. Anon closed his eyes, Port days were Terry's problem. He settled back down. Realising he had the chance to study an elf up close, he tried his best to evolve night vision. Overall, elves seemed to be a more elegant form of humans. Her features were well defined, her skin was smoother then anyone anon had seen. They could be as pretty as they want, elves are still weird, he concluded.

Eventually Anon was forced to get out of bed, there were big things that had to be done. Terry would see the submarine getting restocked, but Anon would have to go report to the General. He disliked having to meet the General, partly because he didn't like leaving the I-400 to begin with, and then there was the added trouble of the general’s formalities and asshole sidekick. Amarille stayed asleep as Anon pulled on his dress uniform, a pre-konvergence relic from his reenacting days. While the patches and pins were different now, his black SS uniform had found its place as his most uncomfortable form of dress. While gabardine is comfortable when worn in Europe, or in the cool breeze of the open sea, it was unacceptable in Floridian heat. 

Anon was soon back on the desk, basking in the equatorial climate. His hand was sweaty around his briefcase’s handle. He had changed the papers out for the one he took off stepstein, Anon was not going to let the enemy be tipped off because he was too lazy to find a different case. The car was late. Because of this, Anon knew who was going to be his driver, and he didn’t like it in the slightest. Just as anon was about to retreat back into the shade of the conning tower, A rough looking car screamed to a halt in front of the gangway. 

Strangely, rune engineers had a harder time building small vehicles then large ones, and the car before anon was a perfect example. It was bulky, the engine was exposed, along with all the mana lines to the equally bulky energy crystal at the rear of the vehicle. In a larger vehicle, this wouldn’t have been a problem, but runes can only be downsized so much before their effect becomes useless. And worst of all, this vehicle did not have air conditioning, and was, in fact, a degree or two hotter inside then outside. At the wheel of the vehicle was Anon’s least favourite person, a small, green runt of a creature called Gnoblin.

“Hey Anon! Ready to go?” the little goblin called

Anon scowled as he marched across the gangway. Despite his cheery demeanor, anon knew that gnoblin was a little demon, whose only desire was to mess with him and steal the shiny buttons on his jacket. Anon got into the back seat, safely away from gnoblin's thieving little claw hands. 
It was a mystery to Anon as to why such a creature was one of the Lord General's closest aides. 

As they rolled through Miami, Anon stayed mostly silent while Gnoblin happily chattered away about what he had for breakfast and his frustration at being forced to use a baby seat to see over the dashboard of the car. Anon stared out at the city and its strange medieval block housing and factories. Before the konvergence, The General was preparing for war with the Elven Nation after some sour trade deals and “knife ear” comments had sufficiently angered the wood elf leaders. Due to their “tree hugging hippie”nature, the elves’ navy consisted of three fishing boats, so the general decided to push his engineers’ sanity to the limit by ordering the rapid expansion of the city’s shipbuilding industry. Using technology already in use in other factories, work was begun of pounding out a shiny new navy, which made the elves collectively shit their pants, no amount of armour piercing fireballs could save them from coastal bombardment. The arms race was still ongoing, but the elves were starting to realise the new humans were not as primitive as first believed.

The car passed through a bustling marketplace where vendors hawked produce, dire gator skins and other post-konvergence floridian specialties. I seemed that even in a modernised city, the new world markets still thrived in the relatively cramped streets. The smell and sounds of the market wafted through the poorly sealed cabin. Apparently the General wasn't as interested in good cars as good submarines. The smells of the spices made anon want to sneeze, but he grit his teeth and suppressed the urge. He was determined not to show weakness in front of Gnoblin, even if it meant busting a blood vessel.

While anon was struggling with his nose, the factories and block housing gave way to small houses and they reached their destination, a stout, yet dignified building constructed of solid concrete. Gnoblin pulled in passed a perimeter fence, guards and some angry looking civilians.

“The Democratists are at it again” Gnoblin sighed.

Anon just shrugged, he had better things to do than get involved in land-politics. He pulled his cap down over his face as best as he could, that crowd was an excellent hiding place for spies. He was out of the car as soon as Gnoblin switched it off, and through Bunker House’s thick wooden doors as fast as his boots would take him. Gnoblin led the way through windowless hallways lit by luminescent runes. Down underground the hallways branched and twisted in ways Anon was certain was not spatially possible. Hundreds of unlabelled doors lined the hallways but gnoblin seemed certain as he waddled onwards, his little goblin-sized wizard stick in hand. The only way anon knew they were progressing was the light runes getting dimmer and dimmer and the temperature slowly dropping. Anon breathed easier in the cool air, finally relieved from the oppressive heat of the surface. Anon almost tripped over Gnoblin as he suddenly stopped in front of a door, completely identical to the hundreds before it. Opening the door revealed a well lit room centred around a large wooden desk covered in paper. At the desh slept a  figure in a rough tunic. 

“Lord-General Maxwell, Sir!” Anon announced his arrival with a salute

The General snapped up, revealing a face that hadnt been shaved in days, and pitch black bags under equally worn out eyes.

“You’ve let yourself go, Sir” Anon smiled

“You would too if you had to do this job day in and day out” The General retorted

“I’m sure i would, anyway, are you absolutely sure there is no way someone could be listening to our conversation right now?” Anon tapped the briefcase.

“Yes, Anon, nobody but me and Gnoblin can even get to this room” the general waved his hand, as if trying to slap away anon’s paranoia.

Anon shot a sideways glance at Gnoblin and drew out the documents.

“Yesterday, we intercepted and boarded a yacht belonging to Geoffrey Stepstein, and upon trying to get more information on the pdeophile rings operating on the eastern seaboard, He divulged that there is a shady assassination plot to kill you.”

The general perked up at that, the tiredness seemingly melting off of his face.

 “He had documents that seem to confirm this plot, along with a list of spies they have in this city. Their plan is to kill you, and seize miami as liberators to establish a major foothold in America. It looks like your factories have not gone unnoticed.”

“Aw hell yeah!”the general jumped out of his seat “It’s been fucking ages since a proper assassination attempt! Where are they? I’ll rip them apart!”

“Unfortunately sir, you can’t stab a missile. Its on a ship, apparently from Israel. We have the general idea of its course, and we will set out tomorrow to intercept it. Meanwhile, please do not let those spies know we’re onto them. Leave them alone until the missile ship is sunk, or take them out quietly, i’ll leave that to you” 

The general’s look faded, his chance to kick ass snatched away from right beneath him.

“Fine, i’ll leave it to you, it's not like i want to go on a kickass adventure or anything” The  General whined.

Anon handed over the spies papers and finished his report. After politely refusing to take the general as a stowaway, Anon left. There was no point in staying longer, and he had to get underway as soon as possible. It was only a matter of time before the General or that wretched goblin let the plan slip and put him under the clock. Neither of them had any sense of subtlety and it was probably about a month or so before a spy was publicly executed. 

Gnoblin dropped him back at the I-400. Anon walked back up the gangplank to find Terry corralling Soldiers of the assault team, preparing to go on shore leave. He made sure to stop by and remind them that if they pass out in an alleyway and delay setting off, they will be used as a suppressor for the deck gun.

Anon went belowdecks. The engines no longer shook the submarine with their roar, but the soft hum of the generators could be heard if he focused a little. It had a much calmer atmosphere than usual, with nobody running around or yelling about maps, sonar or engine power. He was torn between liking the quiet and disliking the lack of productivity. He milled around the corridors, thinking of what he could do tonight to prepare for the mission ahead. He wandered into the bridge, inspecting the maps laid out on the table. None of the maps he could find on the bridge seemed to have explored the Atlantic. He sighed. They knew that the enemy ship was going to make a beeline straight for miami as soon as they left the medditeranian. Which, if the captured documents were to be believed, would be in about two weeks. The goal was to get as close to the mouth of the sea as possible and catch them as they leave, or at least spot them and hunt them down with the torpedo bombers. But without any information on the state of the atlantic, there could be a whole new continent in there, or a great island chain with impassable reefs. While those are worst case scenarios, its not impossible, and he would have to come up with a plan around such eventualities. He spent a while on the maps with markers and compasses, calculating top speeds, routes and the ranges of the Seiran bombers. He was drawing up potential reefs and islands when he heard a knocking on the bulkhead. He looked to see who was there. It was the elf. Wasnt she meant to have left now? Or been kicked off the sub? The crew were too soft when it came to fankasia women.

“Hi Anon, working again?” she asked

“Yes, and you are still on my ship”

“Yes, I am. Outside-sub politics, remember? I wouldn’t last a night in this city.”

Anon did have to concede that. He froze as a sudden thought occurred to him. She couldnt get off now, and there was no way they were going to stop at the elven nation. She was going to be on the sub for the entire trip. He didn’t like that idea, but it seemed unavoidable. He would have to deal with the elf for at least the duration of this expedition. 
He explained their lack of time, and the basic outline of the mission: a quick trip to the european continent, which, if everything went perfectly, would be three weeks there and back. Anon asked if she had anything that she was good at, so he could assign her to a job to keep her busy. Amarille said she knew a little healing magic.
Anon shuddered, they had a doctor aboard, but he was weird, and Anon didn't like interacting with him that much.. 
“We might have a place for that kind of skill, remind me or terry when we’re underway”
Anon hoped she would go to terry.
They continued talking for a few hours, anon answering Amarille’s many questions about his maps and the submarine. In turn, Anon asked about elf things, mostly about why they moved so weird. Eventually anon decided it was a decent hour to go to sleep, his efforts to decipher the elven question mostly in vain. Anon locked away the maps and excused himself. When Amarille tried to follow him, he gave her a confused look
“Aren’t we going to your room?” she asked
“Well, I am, .”
“Aww, did you hate my company that much?” she pouted
“No, not really, i just-”
“I guess i could sleep somewhere else, but who knows what kind of distraction that would be to your men.”
Anon sighed. Having her run wild was definitely a bad idea, so he might as well let her stay with him. Right? For the good of the ship. Yes, it was his duty as a captain to have this very cute elf stay with him. Something about that didn’t sound right, but he was just going to roll with it.
Alright, Stay on your side of the bed this time or i’ll kick you onto the floor

Anon managed to get a few hours of sleep before dawn. Disturbing Amarille, who groaned something about not getting enough sleep. He donned his uniform and made his way to the bridge, making a note to rev the engines extra loud just to mess with her. First, he had to go and do the exit ceremony.

The I-400 was an impressively large ship in its heyday, only being beat out once the cold war kicked off and nuclear submarines became a thing. People liked to see it enter and leave port, old worlders because it was a reminder of before the konvergence, of old military power. The new worlders liked seeing it because they’d never seen a craft like it. Either way, the General had Anon make a little show of leaving. Something about needing some good PR. play some music, stand up on the conning tower, smile and wave.

A cool wind was blowing through the port, so standing out in the open wasnt as bad as usual. The loudspeakers played a recording of “der magiste konig im luftrevier”, the only submarine-related song that he knew. It was nice and upbeat though, and thats what the general wanted, so its what he got.

Smiling and waving with Anon was Terry, waving a lot more enthusiastically than him. 

“Sooo, you and that elf huh?” Terry smirked and nudged Anon with his elbow.

They both kept waving to the crowd. Anon sighed

“Nothing has happened"

"There's Lots of time for something to happen though"

"There is, but we have a lot of stuff to do that doesn't involve elf women"

Out on the open sea, the I-400 crashed through the waves. It was a mercifully calm day, letting the ship sail at its full speed. Anon didn’t have a lot to do beyond checking the course. He stood at the top of the conning tower, looking out at the horizon. There weren't many other ships around. New world seafaring technology was still in the era of timber ships, . Anon had seen some decent sized merchant ships, but they only ran along the coast. In the open ocean, it was sea monsters he had to look out for. As bad as mermaids were, he really didnt want to get caught off guard by a kraken, or the Iowa. he heard the hatch open behind him.

“Good morning captain” a muffled voice came.

Anon’s spine tingled. The Ship’s doctor, Josef rose from the hatch. He was a lanky figure, always in a greatcoat and gas mask, even in the heat. He didn’t talk much outside of important work matters, and He was a generally unsettling person to be around. But when it came to his skill as a surgeon, he was a miracle worker.