“Hey! Hey, Drum! Look what I found~!” Lionfish waved her arm wildly over her head, trying to get the Gato-class submarine’s attention. 

Her voice bounced around Drum's head like a bag migraine. While she couldn’t really consider Lionfish a “friend”, per-say, the Balao-class was the only other returned submarine in Mobile, Alabama, so Lionfish tried to hang around with Drum as often as she could, to Drum’s dismay. 

“Lionfish, I really don’t have time for whatever you’ve gotten into, today.” Drum put down the report of recent Abyssal activity in the Gulf. “You really should be reading this report, yourself.” She held the folder up. “Maybe you’ll actually be able to sink some more tonnage for yourself, for change.”

“Yeah, whatever, sink ships, gotcha.” Lionfish hurriedly waved Drum’s concerns away. “You’re gonna love this!” Lionfish rushed over to her comrade. Drum finally noticed something was in Lionfish’s waving hand. 

“What is it...” Drum sighed, resigning herself to her comrade’s antics.

“So,” Lionfish panted, stopping at Drum’s table. “Remember Halloween, last year? When Massachusetts and Captain Casey went out on that date?”

“...Yes?” Drum arched her brow. Suspicious as she was of Lionfish’s intentions, it was probably best to hear her out, just in chase this led to trouble she could potentially cause elsewhere. Better to nip such things in the bud, after all.

“Here! Look! Look!” Lionfish shoved her hand in Drum’s face. 

“Fine! Fine!” Drum huffed, pushing the other girl’s hand down, and taking the slips of paper. “What’s so damn import-oh.”

Drum felt her cheeks instinctively flush red as Lionfish giggled maniacally. “Wh-what are these!” Drum demanded.

“I snagged ‘em from Casey’s computer when I went to go drop some of Alabama’s reports off.” Lionfish snickered. “He didn’t even try to hide them!” 

Drum swallowed, quickly sifting through photo’s of Massachusetts in various costumes. Massachusetts as a French Maid, a biker, a witch, and many, many others.

“You can’t just take stuff like this!” Drum tried to keep her voice down. “Do you know how much trouble we’d get into, if Commander Casey or Massachusetts found out?”

“What’s ol’ Big Mamie gonna do?” Lionfish giggled. “She doesn’t know I have them. And besides, Casey's a big softy, anyway.” 

“I don’t know what?”

Drum’s blood ran cold. Massachusetts’ thick Bostonian accent reverberated in her skull.  She glanced over to Lionfish. The over submarine had also frozen in place. 

“What don’t I know?” The Battleship repeated the question, looking over their shoulders. “What are you two looking at-” She cut off. The room grew chilly, and Drum began to shiver, then sweat.

“Where did you get those...” The temperature in the room seemed to swell with Massachusetts' demand.  

The two subs remained frozen in place, as if staying still would hide them from her.

Massachusetts’ voice was a low, dangerous growl. “I said,” she repeated. “Where did you get those.”

Drum panicked. “Lionfish! Lionfish stole them!”

“What?” Her cousin shouted. “No! I didn’t steal them! I-I-I-found them!”

The submarines shied from the anger radiating hotly from Massachusetts. Drum considered running, but she knew Massachusetts could outpace her by a good margin. Her eye’s screwed shut. This was the end, she and Lionfish both were sunk. 
_

Massachusetts sipped her coffee. “You missed a spot.”

“Yes Ma’am.”  

Massachusetts glared over her mug at the two “maids” cleaning the hallway. Drum and Lionfish hurriedly tried to mop up any errant particle of dust the Battleship may have been referring to.

“This is your fault.” Drum hissed at Lionfish, as they mopped in rhythm.

“Shut up...” Lionfish whispered, rubbing at the knot on her head.

“Did you say something?” Massachusetts asked, taking another sip of her coffee. Her large paper fan tapped dangerously against her hip. 

“No Ma’am!” Both submarines replied, hastening their cleaning down the empty hallway.