Salvage site- 500 nautic miles off of the shore of Ireland.

The helicopter flight merely took an hour- as it set down, Yureka opened the door again to be greeted by a breeze of air, right from the salty sea. They had set down on an average sized tugboat, currently equipped with some diving equipment and many crates of... emptiness- presumably the contents were used below. Thirty soldiers with submachine guns were guarding the area and greeted them cheerfully.

Right then, one of the lower officers that had command over the thirty troopers approached Yureka for a status report.
"Ah, Leutnant Espada... we`ve been waiting for you. The charges have been set off seven minutes ago, the salvage ballons are filling up nicely. If calculations are correct, HE should surface in about ten minutes... we`d rather have a slow ascent than a quick one, the pressure the wreck has to withstand is insanely high."
Nodding once, Yureka came over to the railing to look into the water, where some bubbles began to surface.
"Everything about the Millenium is insane, Rottenführer. what about the divers?"
"We got them right here!" One of the soldiers called out, gesturing over to a group of about fifty people- ten of which were lined up against a wall, with a soldier loading through his submachine gun.
In an instant, Yureka rushed over and knocked the gun down, making it fire into the deck instead.
"Did i say anything about killing them, you bloodthirsty morons?!" She hissed, holding back against her urge to knock him overboard. "These men and women worked seven days and nights for the glory of our Batallion... they deserve to see this moment, at least! Besides-"
She turned away, huffing angrily, to look into the water again.
"I`m not looking forward to cleaning the sediment, seaweed and mud out of this huge biodome. The men may be whimps, because if they weren´t they would`ve served in the army, or at least put up a fight rather than this... but the women deserve respect. They did the same work that these so called men did. Make sure the women recieve a chip and a simple vampire treatment once we´ve got the time."
With that she fell silent again, and watched the frequency bubbles gradually increase. Something big was coming up, alright.

Salt wind lashed at Walter's hair and clothes the moment he stepped off the helicopter and onto the tugboat's deck. Not for the first time, he began to wonder just what he was doing here. His physical strength was superior to the average FREAK's, but where they could go on lifting for days on end, the butler grew weary when exerting energy for any significant period of time. Besides strength, the only weapons he had available were his wires - near-useless when the wind was so harsh. The rank-and-file soldiers feared him, without a doubt, but they also hated him, limiting his managerial ability.
Curling his lip, he resolved to standing by Yureka's side as she barked orders. He blinked in genuine surprise when she saved the divers' from a quick, leaden oblivion.
"I remember when the Bismarck sunk," he told the yellow-haired officer, straining to be heard over the roiling of the ocean. "It was all over the news. More propaganda for the British Isles. I never thought I'd be helping to repair it."

Yureka nodded in response, quiet at first until she was sure nothing major would happen in the next couple of minutes. The wreck was 4700 feet under the water, it would take a while at least.
"For half a century, the british claimed it was one of their torpedos that sunk this behemoth- until recently Cameron prooved that the sailors themselves sunk it with shaped charges. Just imagine what that thing could´ve done if it wasn´t hit in the only place no armor can protect, right away..."
For a second, she held her breath as something rose to the surface- but as it came into sight, it turned out to be the command bridge, which had been seperated from the rest during the sinking. Following that, two anchors and four massive cannon towers, upside down, rose to the surface- their inner structure exposed with many winches and loading mechanisims dirty and muddy, but intact, they already dwarfed the tugboat they were standing on- each of the double barreled cannons was bigger than a two story house. The main hull had to be on its way.
The bubbles increased with each passing minute.
"Come on... come on... Move your ass!"
A boneshatteringly loud metallic groan went through the area, and Yureka thought this was it- the wreck couldn´t stand it and broke apart- but as it turned out, that was just the greeting the ship gave them. Its handshake was a twenty feet high fountain of water, sprayed up by the forecastle bursting out at much higher velocity than intended- it hit the waves hard enough to make a big wave of its own, and with that, the rest followed suit, all in one piece, surrounded by bright yellow floatation devices like a swimring.
As it turned out, the divers had already fixed the broken piece of the stern into place, as a steel gurtle around the underside pooved- the deck was still broken and splintered around the area it broke off.
Masses of water were flowing down the deck and out of every hole, every bullseye, everywhere as slowly, the tides calmed down and the shadow image of the Bismarck was lying calm in the water, its medium artillary still pointing at the sky.
It was rusty, muddy and dirty, but for a wreck that was nearly sixty years old, it was in a fantastic state.
Exhaling a sigh Yureka had held in all this time, she saluted the ghost ship that had appeared out of Davy Jone´s locker room just now.
"Welcome back."

( http://www.bilder-upload.eu/upload/749234-1374320021.jpg Side view of the wreck for better imagineation. Its about the same size as the Titanic, only made out of much, much better materials.)

Walter watched with little more than morbid curiosity. The sight was chilling: those ghostly decks, colours faded by salt and stone, roiling with sea water as the entire boat groaned and swayed. Cockles and clams clung to the metal of the Bismarck, stuck fast, with no doubt thousands more on the inside. The repair effort would be long and hard, Walter realized - but they were immortals, after all. They had all the time in the world.
"That cannon is archaic," was all the young butler could tell Yureka, his voice hushed. "I'll invent some alterations, if you give me permission. It could have the capacity to fire much, much bigger shells at a much longer distance."

(By the magical rule of 48 hours, we`re skipping ahead.)

Yureka smirked a bit at the ingenuity of the butler, but shrugged it off. "Maybe later. We need to get moving as soon as we can- if someone spots us out here, all the effort will be for naught. But you´re right, the people who built these turrets didn´t think about vampires who can lift and load the grenades with their bare hands."

After marvelling it for a couple of minutes, Yureka jumped off the deck of the tugboat and onto that of the Bismarck- nearly slipping and falling over due to the slick sediment covering it, but she managed to catch herself by bending her knees a bit.
"Woah. Slippery." She muttered, then proceeded to catch the crates of supplies and tools the other soldiers tossed her while the tugboat slowly approached the wrecked ship.
As the crates were loaded on board, drums of oil and water followed, as well as one full of cleaning solvent... the boat was then tied to the battleship, and the humans were escorted aboard with the soldiers behind them, weapons drawn.

"Welcome aboard the Battleship Bismarck- the flagship of Millenium´s naval forces." Yureka proclaimed, tearing off the cover of one of the crates, which revealed.... the contents of a broom closet, multiplied by twenty. Handing the men and women mops and brooms, she smiled a bit.
"Well then, i spared your lives. Now its time to pay me back- scrub the deck, all of you. The men will then proceed in sanding down the turrets- we got some tools for that, don´t worry- and the women will come down to the engine room with me, where we`ll acess the damage on the boilers and fix what can be fixed. We need at least one to work- the tugboat can`t handle this ship alone."

After the humans got to work, due to the machine guns pointed at them, Yureka instructed the rest of the crew.
"As for you- ten people for each one of the main turrets. The lower turrets first, the topmost ones can be fitted easier that way. Just let the weight do its work- the rust will break off and before you know it they´ll be sanded down and nice again. The remaining ten people take care of the chimney- its gotta be around here somewhere, in pieces. You´ll need to weld it back together. Same goes for anchors... once you`re all finished, take care of the command bridge, its not heavy but its cumbersome. Once all of that is complete, there`s a one hour break for everyone."

Gesturing Walter to follow, Yureka took a flashlight from the tool chest and forced the door in front of her to open, slowly and carefully entering the ancient building.
A few steps in, she turned tail and went to her men once more.
"Oh and one more thing- if you find any corpses, and you will, throw them back into the sea. Thats where they belong... we wouldn´t want to disturb those heroic souls for too long."
Saying that, she slowly entered a being from the past- a world of rust, human despair and mud.

(Back from my camping trip, with no sleep for 3 days. Yaaaaay.)

Walter couldn't help but smile when Yureka jumped and slipped on the ancient, salt-sloughed deck - but not out of schadenfreude; he admired the yellow-haired warrior's involvement with the crew, her willingness to get her hands dirty and reward compliance, and he found himself nodding as she gave her speech. Millennium's other officers were wont to sit around and watch their lackeys do business, exerting themselves only if a similar-ranking enemy should turn up; but this Yureka was different. She knew honor, and honesty. Walter hoped he was right to believe she would keep her promise, and not kill the captives when their task was complete.

In his easy, stage-actor's gait - almost comical when performed by a boy who could barely pass for fifteen - the butler followed her into the Bismark's rusted iron gullet, slime guttering down around them through ceiling panels and fried cables.
"Were you telling the truth?" Walter asked quietly, his eyes looking everywhere but at her. He made himself sound as though he didn't really care what happened to the captives, but his body was young, and inept at concealing emotion.

Throughout the darkness they were passing through, they nearly didn´t find any damage- corpses, plenty of them, but no impact holes. Remarkable for a ship that had been battered for two hours straight, by a fleet of battleships and a squadron of bombers.
"Of course. The women will join our ranks, chipped and turned into vampires- the men will serve us as humanoid blood bags in a room i`m planning to build near the water supply. Think about constantly being drained of blood, while they`re force fed in a state of artifical coma... they produce free, easy to use blood for us. Something we absolutly need if we aren´t to result to cannibalisim."

It might seem cruel, but Yureka had no remorse for these wimpy men.
"Its gotta be somewhere down here... the absolute lowest deck. Legend has it they blew it up to sink the ship so that the allies don´t get it, but if it was then we´d be knee deep underwater now."
Sure enough, they eventually got to a large hall deep in the guts of the ship. A metal plate near the door said "Kesselraum 1" - Boiler Room 1. Then those massive husks, devoid of life, must be the boilers they were looking for. Each one was taller than a three story house and the pipes attached to them reached out into the darkness above, no light coming from it- some twenty meters further up had to be the remains of the chimney, something they´d weld back together later.
"They`re intact... at least they haven´t been blown up. Have you ever seen machines like these...? The ship has twelve of these, and they produce 150 400 horsepower.." Yureka marvelled, her body shivering a bit from the coldness of the room. They were underneath the waterline, and the water was cold this time of the year.

Mostly satisfied by her answer, Walter nodded. Something about Yureka's homicidal sexism gave him the chills, but he supposed giving half of the captives some quality of life was better than giving it to none of them.

He could tell they had passed underwater when the noises of the soldiers working above faded to a dull hum. Curious, he peeled off his gloves and flexed his fingers, trying to figure out whether the cold still affected him. Though it didn't sting quite so much as it had when he was human, he still shivered with the frosty snap in the air. He barely noticed his partner talking until she was almost finished.
"They could produce a lot more," Walter shrugged, peering up into the darkness. "Keep the outsides of the boilers, but refit the insides with modern technology. We can get the ship moving faster while keeping its authentic feel." He paused and grinned. "That is, if you care about that kind of thing. It's your decision."

His suggestions being sound, but unnecessary, Yureka went over and touched one of the boilers with her hand, feeling every wave and tidal movement the ship produced vibrating and resonating in the large hollow cylinder. It was covered in rust that flaked off to the touch, but it wasn´t thick. While she wouldn´t trust this pressure vessel to work long, it might just work long enough for them to reach their destination.

"Actually, Millenium aquired a replacement- a pair of nuclear reactors from a Nimitz class aircraft carrier. Its designed to move a ship bigger and heavier than this one with more than thirty knots... faster than those. So not only will this ship be faster than ever, but it´ll have unlimited range. And since we produce the blood on board, we`ll never have to stop and restock anywhere...  thats the plan. We can stay afloat forever, they have to stop hunting us at some point."

Patting the huge machine for a moment, she left it as it was and turned away.
"Well, thats that. What i want to do now is go to the command center and set up an operational base there... it took a hit from a 16 inch shell, but from the looks of it it only grazed off of the armor, peeling it away... we can fix that easily."
Yureka climbed up the stairs once more, leading ahead and illuminating the area ahead of them... she wasn´t afraid of being stabbed in the back by him, nor was she afraid of the dark. What she was afraid of was to slip off of this staircase and tumble down in an embarressing manner, but that never happened.

-----

They went outside once more, where things were proceeding nicely... with the force of twenty men, two gigantic turrets were heaved into position, down into the holes they belonged in, and Yureka had to smirk as Bridgette had hoisted the Reichskriegsflagge at the stern end of the ship. Playful little girl. She took a short time to marvel the massive machines of destruction. Cannon tower "Anton", the foremost one, was missing the aiming devices installed on each side of the other cannons due to a malfunction of them shortly before the Bismarck was sunk. The barrels were shot, and rusticles were hanging from them, but standing next to one of them, being taller than even the tugboat itself, one had to imagine what kind of calamity these things could create.
They´d find out soon, as soon as the new barrels would be delivered.
"Enough fooling around." She muttered, going to the massively armored structure directly behind the gun which had a rather large, spear shaped hole on the starboard side, jumping up onto the upper deck- There she forced the door open and water came splashing out of the armored room, having nowhere else to go.

The thought was...gruesome, to say the least: a self-sufficient, underwater engine fuelled by factoried blood and raw, vampiric manpower. It would be like something out of a horror novel born from the world's most twisted mind. It would be vast, unwieldly, and terrifying. And it would be powerful. As bad as it made him feel, Walter couldn't find the will not to respect that.
He followed her dutifully, taking the time to measure his footsteps, making sure his sleek, smooth-soled shoes never slipped on the wet iron grating.

Once they emerged from the Bismarck's groaning gut, the young butler took a moment to breathe the freezing salt breeze. This...might work. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Certainly, he didn't want to initiate the Blitzkrieg II, destroying thousands upon thousands of innocent lives; but when coupled with the prospect of getting closer to Alucard, all his reservatioons washed away in a heartbeat. London could burn, for all he cared...

...Then why did his chest hurt so much..?

Barely paying notice to the way Yureka looked at the girl Bridgette - she had been giving her fledgling similar glances ever since they had left the zeppelin - Walter walked up alongside her, deftly avoiding the sudden rush of water.
"Is this the weapons room?" he asked. "I can't read German."

Arriving in the command center, it looked a bit like a lagoon more than a room where powerful decisions were being made. The large impact had brought the water in, and the things that used to be in this room had been mostly destroyed.
Wiping one of the consoles near the window clean, she took some time to study the ancient barometers and speedometers.
"No, more like a general control room for all operations. The weapons control was directed from various positions, it wasn´t easy to control twenty guns on each side of the ship, not counting the smaller guns that were mounted everywhere.  From here the staff gave orders to the people at the aiming devices, which then gave orders to the cannonieers. Things were tough back then, when the most advanced technology they had was an intercom."
She pointed upwards, to the cieling where fresh air was coming in.
"Above us is one of the three stations from there the ship was steered by the way- interestingly enough the engines seemed to be controlled from here. Looks like they didn´t want to overwork the people who were doing their job up there."

Taking a gaze out the window after she had swiped it clean with her arm, the view was stunning to her- the sea ahead, splashing waves against their oversized toy, the men heaving the heavy cannons into position, the guns themselves which seemed to have almost no end, and the paled out, giant swastika near the front end of the ship, undoubtfully reminding everyone what this machine was designed to do- kill. Yureka wasn´t one to have thoughts like this, but she shivered a bit as she reminded herself that this beautiful device they were standing on was made to destroy lives and spread terror across every seafaring nation of the earth.
With that impression weighing her down, she turned back to Walter.
"I know you´ve got a lot of experience in the field, more than i do... i´m not sure if i`m fit to be the captain of this vessel. Either way it would only be temporary, until we recieve our full crew in the german harbor of Kiel, but... it seems like a large burden. And the men that we´ve seen down there just reminded me what can happen when that burden is placed on the wrong shoulders."
Taking a breath, she regained her composure.
"So if you know anyone who´d be more qualified for the task of commanding this ship, name him or her, and i´ll make the arrangements."

Walter began to inspect the spacious interior as soon as enough water had rushed out, his shoes producing wet lapping sounds as he strode through the ankle-high flood. The machinery seemed to interest the butler more than the wide open sea, and he began to move about peering at every control bank, every work surface, every air duct. Dated technology, yes, but...workable. Already, Walter found himself planning for the coming days. He would need a small workforce - obedient, if not particularly loyal. With enough iron and zinc for galvanization, he could change the control room into a soundproofed, not-rusting headquarters. He said all this to Yureka as he searched the machinery, scraping away old rust with his nails and dislodging seashells from the devices' innards.

He blinked when she began to speak again. Something cold twisted his gut. "I've never sailed a ship before," he told her, smiling reassuringly. "I'm sure you know more about navigation than I do. For now, let's...let's just work together, and see how it goes. If there's a problem, we'll sit down and fumble with the machines until they're fixed, and we don't even know how. That's the English way of doing things."

Yureka didn´t even blink, she just turned back to the control panel to study it, getting used to the bars and diagraphs they displayed.
"Fine. If anyone asks, it was your idea. Besides, it looks like we`re about ready to recieve our shipment..."
She spotted something in the distance, a crab fishing boat- bigger than their tugboat, but still nowhere near as huge as the Bismarck, approached them. The mast had their cursed flag hoisted, signaling that it was indeed the transport they were looking for.
"Yeah, thats it. They´re bringing fresh supplies, gunpowder, modern replicas of the gun barrels and authentic reproductions of the shells used back then. Things we`ll need to get this thing moving to St. Naizaire, where we`ll do a complete overhaul for one week. You´ll get your workforce there, don´t worry, and plenty of supplies. We´ll install some modern anti aircraft weapons, internet and telecommunication, refurniture some of the rooms and maybe redesign some rooms for comfort, like a pool or a movie theater."
She explained her planning for the next few days in detail, while the ship pulled up near their portside. Yureka groaned a bit, reminding herself that the soldiers could have an hour off once they finished fitting the ship together.
"Well, i`ll better get my hands dirty unloading that ship."

Walter, too, hunched over a dead panel of machinery. There was a squid inside one of the cracked surfaces, staring up at him with gelatinous eyes. Pursing his lip, the butler stepped away and towards the door, leaning with a hand against the iron frame.
"A pool and movie theater sound...good. So does a soft bed, now that you mention it. Is there any chance of the Major getting annoyed when he sees those things on our list of expenditure?" He turned to Yureka, resting his back against the doorframe now, thin arms folded over his stomach. "If so, good."
Before the yellow-haired girl could move to her task, Walter was standing in the way, lighting up a cigarette. "Before you go out there... Just remember that you're the boss. Feel free to sit down a while if you need it. We can share our breaks." Again, he smiled at her. "They told you about me, didn't they? Strength and speed beyond most FREAKs, but cursed with a human level of energy. I can carry heavier crates than your men, for about a tenth as long. Isn't that ironic?"

"Share our breaks? I`ve got a better idea. You`ll do something too for a change and help me."
Human level of energy, huh? That´d be plenty, together they would only need an hour. And an hour was all she needed since thats how long their men wound rest...
Walking out of the command center again, she was delighted to see the tall command tower standing proud right behind that armored structure, and that the chimney was nearly finished being welded back together.
As such, she hurried to make herself useful, tossing a rope over to the other ship to pull it to them so that they could unload with ease...

------------

An hour later, their supplies were neatly stacked up on the deck, ready to be used, when the bribed fisherman started talking nonsense about how dangerous his job was and- well, basically he demanded more money. From a squad of heavily armored, bloodthirsty men.
"You know, thats what i like about you humans. The morons never die out. Get em, boys."
The soldiers, having finished their break, jumped at them like feral animals, feeding after having finished thei rest, tossing the bodies overboard and into the sea before they started taking the ship apart, anything that wasn´t necesssary might be useful to them. The ship itself was left intact, they could use it to tug the Bismark a little faster....
"Greed is a sin, young man." She said to the twitching corpse bleeding onto the deck of her ship, before she nudged him overboard with the heel of her boot.

With a grimace, Walter stood aside and let Yureka pass. He was much smaller than her, and her mass would have been able to bowl him over, no matter how strong he was. It wasn't as though he really felt like protesting, either; a fight was the last thing he wanted from what was - realistically - the only acquaintance he had in Millennium where there wasn't yet any tension or hard feelings.
Following her out, he stared down at the sloshing deck - and winced again as he leapt down to work.

-----------

Dress pants soaked to the hips, Walter waded almost knee-deep in water. Moonlight glittered on the roiling surface of the flood, fading gradually as the soldiers delved buckets underwater and bailed it, bit by tiny bit, over the edge.
When he looked up, the breath caught in his throat for just a moment. FREAKs had piled atop the captives and were just eating them, blood arching out against the floodlit night. His fingers flexed instinctively; splaying out as though unfurling his wires - but he wasn't even wearing his gloves, and he had to remind himself that he was on their side now.
Looking away from the crimson feast, Walter dragged himself up from the lowest deck to stand beside Yureka. His entire body burned with exhaustion: especially his shoulders, which felt close to snapping like twigs from the sheer volume of the crates he had been lifting.
"Hah...hah..." he breathed, trying to compose himself. "Your men...hah...get bored easily... We should arrange...a water-polo competition...or something."

Yureka, while being exhausted to the limits herself, didn´t show any sign of panting, sweating or tiredness, instead she watched the others have their fill of blood. She desired none of theirs- drinking any of that impure sailor blood would just make her vomit. As Walter returned to her side like a puppy returning to his owner, she could see what he meant with "human stamina". He was close to passing out by the looks of it, but it didn´t matter right now, they were right on schedule. Less than twenty hours passed and they were ready to fire up the boilers.
"I`m sure something like that can be arranged if you´re into that sort of thing, watching musclebound men wrestle in the water to drive a ball from one side to another.." She joked, while remaining deadpan serious. Some who had finished feeding were using the anchor chains of the ship as tuglines, attaching them to the crab vessel and the tugboat, then they went over to start the engines. Not much later, they started to move, evident by the current of water going to the opposite direction. "We´ve set sail, it seems." Yureka pointed out, tempted to sick her hand into the water to feel the pressure of it streaming the other way, but... it was twenty feet down. Her arm wasn´t that long, and she didn´t feel like swimming.
"Schulz, Görlitz, get some of the humans down to the boilers and fire them up. Be careful not to use any of those that are leaking, you´d blow us to smithereens." Yureka ordered to her two subcommanders, then turned to Walter.
"Got any ideas what part of the ship to explore first? Personally i´d be interested in the admiral´s cabin."

The butler had been expecting Yureka's comeback. He folded his hands behind his back, smiled politely, and cast a glance in the direction of the female captives. "Who said anything...hah...about the men? I think we'd both...prefer it the other way...
Refusing to explain, he looked out to the ocean as the Bismarck's enormous mass began to scythe through the salt water, lugging itself forwards inch by inch, a great ghost of the seas just now beginning to stir from death's slumber.
"Your idea sounds...better. In fact, anywhere with a bed...chairs...benches..." He grinned through his weariness. "Just don't ask me to swim."

"Forcing the girls to water-polo would be just cruel." She said, as if using the males as blood vessels wasn`t cruel at all. Casting a glance at the deck plan of the ship that one of her men had pinned onto one of the armored steel walls, her eyes scanned it over with mechanic precision before pinpointing the location of it.
"There... rearward bridge deck, second level. It almost seems small from this floorplan, but we´ll see."
Not waiting for him to comply, she turned on her heel and moved towards the other end of the ship, where the said deck was and hopped over its rusty, crumbled reiling, waiting for him there before kicking the door open... another splash of water came out, smaller than the last one, as well as a murky smell of a room that hadn´t been used in a while.
"Brilliant. That´ll be comfortable to rest in..." She groaned, but still stepped inside, mud squirting out between the rubber profile of her boots,her eyes gazing around in the room that must´ve once looked like the first class of the Titanic. It was bigger than a hotel room, with a whole bathroom attached to it, windows with shutters on them, a desk to work on.... which had a book on it that near instantly went into Yureka`s pocket, a bookshelf, a large, king sized bed with brass accents on it, a dining table, some bookshelfs and drawers as well as.... a paled, muddy, but unmistakeable picture of Adolf Hitler on the wall above the bed.

Rolling his eyes, Walter Dornez followed. He seemed to do a lot of following, these days; but not as much as he had for the last seventy or so years.
When he stepped precariously over the burbling, frothing water rapidly draining into the fluffy carpet, Walter found himself smirking at the sight. "I don't suppose I can 'call dibs'?" he asked innocently, almost immediately planting himself down on the side of the bed and tilting his body backwards, hitting the duvet with a satisfying spout of dust. Beneath his waistcoat, his chest rose and fell strenuously, fingers twitching by his sides. "I don't seem to be able to get up," the young butler grinned. "Would you mind checking for skeletons? I don't feel like sharing this place with its former occupant."

She stared at the picture for a while. Millenium didn`t have much to do with the original Nazis, they didn´t have pictures of their great Fuhrer hanging everywhere, the only thing they had in common with them were the uniforms, the ranks, the insignia and their flag... this man, she couldn´t relate to. She knew who he was, what he did, for what purpose, and while she found it admireable that a single man accomplished so much, it was the same as with those fisherman- greed led to his demise, underestimation, selfishness, insomania. The death of the skeletons on this ship was due to this man´s orders, and for that she couldn`t forgive him.
Pulling out her P1 pistol, she checked the chamber, aimed and fired at it, shooting the picture square in the forehead, which caused it to fall off of the wall and land next to Walter. It didn´t make her feel the least bit better.
"There won´t be any skeletons here. The man who occupied this cabin had a duty, you can find him in the command tower." She responded in a dull fashion as she holstered her pistol and plopped down on the bed next to him, tossing the picture out of the broken window before she stared at the cieling.
The comfort of this room was acceptable, for a captain, but the Major deserved better. She would create a different room for him, somewhere with a better view of the ship.

"Hn?" Walter grunted, muscles tensing up when he heard the gunshot. To his vampiric ears, the sound was deafening - and the lingering, ringing sound afterwards didn't help one bit. Despite all this, he couldn't help but smirk. A Nazi, shooting Hitler between the eyes? The teenaged butler decided he liked Yureka a lot more than he had five seconds ago.
"Hellsing can keep its coffins," he murmured under his breath, closing his eyes when the other commander placed herself beside him. "I can see why you people prefer this to real vampirism. Efficient and comfortable."
Opening his eyes to slits, Walter tossed his cigarette packet into a dry corner. They were pressing too hard in his pocket, and he didn't want them to get wet while he was working up above.

There she was, lying on the bed, staring at the cieling... idle. She had nothing to do. She could call Bridgette to entertain them, make her do a funny dance, make her strip, anything, but that would be short lived entertainment and she didn´t want to abuse the girl like that..
"...I feel like i`m rusting away along with the rest of this. giant scrapheap." She commented, a loud, blowing whistle outside confirming that yes, they´ve set the boilers ablaze and they had steam power now... amazingly, shortly after, a few dim lights came on in the room, old as dirt but still working despite everything.
"Hah.. take that, modern technology. Sixty years underwater and they just come right back on." She pointed at the lightbulb surrounded by a half rotted lampshade. The room had clearly seen better days... the colors of the walls were murky and dirty, the windows could barely be called such as filthy as they were and the bed they were lying on was basically a mass of... something, which emitted dust, apperantly.
Yureka sighed, long and deep, before gazing to Walter.
"Well, i´ve done what i could for now. What do you suppose we should do from now on? Just wait until the next night?"

Frowning at the ceiling, Walter let himself relax the whole way. Not a single muscle tense, he lay shoulder-to-shoulder with his assigned partner, his firm chest rising and falling in slow, useless rhythm: He didn't quite need to breathe, but over seventy years had developed a habit of it. When Yureka sighed, he caught the slight shift of her own chest in the corner of his vision.
Musky, dusty and drab, the room didn't present an ideal location, but...
"Let's slack off," he suggested, with a lazy, halfhearted grin. "It's been a while since I've done something like that. Any suggestions for what we do? I'm an avid Chess player, but that doesn't mean I can't play cards."

"Doubt i will find either one in this junkyard. Though..."
She got back up, then started to go through the the various drawers of the room. Most of them were filled with what used to be dry, clean laundry, and was now merely a moldy mess..
Leaving them for a moment, she went through the books on the bookshelf- the typical assortment of ideologist books: Mein Kampf, a printed version of Triumph des Willens.... they could keep those. An interesting book was one written by Erwin Rommel, which was more of a guidebook for soldiers than anything else... unfortunely she could recite it in her sleep, which didn`t make it very interesting to read anymore. So she passed on that one too.
She briefly took Mein Kampf into her hands and flicked through it, though as it turned out it wasn`t signed or anything... worthy about ten bucks if she would be lucky. So, it was flung out of the window as well.
"The rats can have it." she said, tossing it out of the same window that the picture flew out of earlier.

Going back to the drawers, she found what she presumed to be a metallic pen, something that might be worth-
Her thoughts stopped as she opened the slightly rusty metal case and discovered two glass capsules full of fluid in them. That wasn´t anything to write with. It was a container for cyanide tablets. Suicide pills.
Shivering a bit, she placed it aside, carefully, as if she was afraid breaking one of them might do something to her. What was she afraid of? Cyanide wouldn`t kill her, right?
Still, it... somehow it gave her the creeps and send shivers down her spine, one after another. She couldn´t imagine someone being desperate enough to break one of these between his or her teeth just to die as quickly and painlessly as possible..
Shaking her head, she attempted to get her mind off of it. And found something to distract her with- a full uniform of the Admiral, including the cap, which she promptly put on for fun, and a leather holster, which, upon closer inspection, had a Luger P08 pistol in it, with a long nickel plated barrel and rifle sights. One of those special ones the high ranked officers liked to show off.
"That might be worth something... even though i just lost every respect for the man i might`ve had for prefering a Luger over the Walther P38."

Walter sat up and shrugged, peering out the circular windows and into the ocean murk. Froth still clung to the cracked glass panes, with the squishy undersides of clams sucked against the surface. He could hear the soldiers continue to work outside; they had picked up a sea shanty, and were singing coarsely in German.
"I thought you were concerned about respecting the dead, and now you want to sell the man's clothes?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow. "It's just a cap. There's no way to prove it's the real thing, in any case; the governments will do everything they can to cover up the return of the Bismarck."

Yureka scoffed a bit, but didn`t raise any objections to him... instead, she explained her actions.
"I wouldn´t be the commander of this ship without the hat to proove it, would i? Besides, that man no longer has flesh, blood or organs that would require clothes. His soul is in another place, all thats left is his bones. Spirituality aside, he has no need for these things."
Government coverup... that was another thing. She`d love to see the headlines about the Bismarck`s disappearance, but that would have to wait... for now, they would need to go to their destination at top speed.
The sea shanties were annoying, but they couldn´t be helped. Her soldiers had their fun, she had hers. Now she would just have to make sure the butler would have some fun.
"Now really, what would you like to do to pass the time? I`m game for whatever you might suggest."

As much as Walter was enjoying the ludicrous situation: laying on the bed of the Bismark's captain's cabin, chatting with a modern-day Nazi about spiritualism, he couldn't help but think he should be putting his focus somewhere more useful.
Sitting up, Walter quirked his brow and cricked his neck. "Baseball?" he suggested jokingly. "Shooting seagulls? You know, I really should make a weapon for myself one day. Guns are better than wires if it's windy or raining."

"I haven´t seen any balls around, and pitching heads around would just be tasteless. As for seagulls- haven´t really seen any either, they aren`t common in the open sea. Birds lurk around the beaches, thats where they find their prey and they can return easily to solid ground.
She looked out the window.... nope, no birds.
No wind either, and no sun, so she wasn´t tired.
"Oh for crying out loud- we´re two adults, we should be able to come up with something. What the hell was this admiral doing in his spare time? Reading books he was required to own to stay in his post? Never."

"I don't suppose you like fishing?" Walter teased, stretching his legs out over the edge of the bed. "That wouldn't be very fair, would it? I cheat." He gave his fingers a demonstrative flex, as though commanding his wires. Of course, his gloves were neatly folded into his breast pocket, minimizing the danger.
"What do you do for fun, when you're aboard the Deus Ex?"

Yureka began to think, sitting down on a chair near the workdesk, counting down on her fingers. She didn´t have many hobbies, so those would be enough.
"Well.... shooting deserts and defatists, ordering gang-rapes, commanding airstrikes, drilling the troops... oh, and... building scale models."
The slightest hint of a blush appeared on that last one and she looked away.
"But i don´t have any models with me, nor do i have the tools necessary to make some out of scrap material."

The way Yureka casually listed her 'hobbies' made Walter desperately hope she was joking. Instead of calling her out on it, he gave a half-amused smile and turned to face his commanding officer, sitting cross-legged with his hands in his lap.
"What do you like to build?" the butler asked her. "At least it's a safe hobby. I used to build houses out of matchsticks."

She looked back at Walter, slightly surprised to hear some curiosity regarding her most boring hobby, but unlike her he was the kind of guy who would sit around for hours, arranging matches and sticking them together with a tiny drop of glue. Still, hers was a bit more sophisticated.

"A 1/100 scale of the Deus Ex Machina II, fully functional with all primary, secondary and teritary guns useable and rotational- its got a 2,4 gigahertz radio control unit and fourteen 0,2 horsepower engines to propell it... still looking for V-1 bombs of that scale but i think the best i could manage is flinging them out with a bit of rubber. I think i´ll try my hands at a Bismarck replica next, since we´re pretty much seeing the real one as it is."

With that said, she was deeply in thought about what level of realisim a 1/100 Bismarck could archive and what it could be used for in their war.

Walter had been hoping for an engaging, insightful conversation into Yureka's state of mind. He got more than he bargained for.
"You weaponized a model?" he blinked, skeptical. "And it flies, too?" He had expected Yureka to be a stern commander with a gentle heart, but it appeared she was iron all the way down to her core.
Feeling suddenly exhausted, the butler flopped back onto the bed, gazing up at the ceiling.
"On second thoughts, I think I'll try to sleep," he mumbled, images of tiny zeppelins flashing through his mind. "Tomorrow, I'll have a look at those guns. I'll see if they can be upgraded somehow." He turned his head to face her, smirking. "You should rest, too. It's a good excuse to not do any work. If anyone asks, you can tell them we were having rampant sex or something."
With that said, Walter turned onto his side and shut his eyes.

Yureka glared at him for a moment- partially due to his betrayal of letting her figure out an activty on her own and because of his comment.
"No, i will not tell them that. I don`t have such... relationships with my subordinates. Besides, you´re fourteen."
Grumbling something, she finally decided to put the cap down and toss her coat onto a nearby chair before she fell back onto the bed, closing her eyes to get some shuteye- her armored bodysuit absorbed the heat of the bed nicely and provided enough warmth so she didn´t need a blanket.

----------------

The next morning Yureka woke up rather late- it seemed like she was tired afterall, but didn`t recognize it as she overworked herself with her schedule.
"Good evening, Oberleutnant." The formal voice of Bridgette finally woke her, and she rolled over to find that Walter was gone already, presumably working on the guns like he spoke of. Good- they would need those if they`d get in trouble with the coast guard or something.
"Hey Bridgette.... seems like i overslept, huh." She told her Adjutant, stretching a bit before sitting up. "I suppose i´ll have to keep this suit on for a while, i don´t think i´ve got any-"
She stopped as she noticed that Bridgette had fixed and washed one of the admiral`s uniforms and handed it to her, wordlessly. A smirk appeared on Yureka`s face and she patted her apprentice on the head, before stripping out of her bodysuit and trying the uniform on instead. "What would i do without you sometimes. Come on, lets go and check what Walter`s doing right now... you can give me a sitrep while we go there."

Bridgette nodded and, as soon as Yureka finished dressing up, left the room, holding the door open as the two were greeted by a clear sky and fresh air... with the slight scent of burnt oil, coming from the smokestack.
"Walter Dornez is in the middle forward gun, Ma`m."

In the middle forward gun was the right phrase. Walter lay on a curve of cold iron, sloped in darkness, clutching a small flashlight between his lips as he took measurements for the enormous barrel's circumference, testing the rust with a rube of universal indicator, plastic palette resting on his belly. Outside, his workers were snickering, and speaking in rough German tongue of which Walter knew only a few words: enough to know they were joking about firing the gun with him inside of it. Luckily, he had taken extra precautions to make sure the ordnance-loader was empty, but it was still wet, smelly work. Seaweed was plastered flat with salt all around him, a few slimy leaves drooping and brushing his forehead whenever he moved. It was enough to make him just a little nervous, but not as much as sleeping beside a trained killer had. In retrospect, this was almost a reprieve. Almost.

"Ah, there you are."
Her voice called out into the deadness of the gun battery, before she slid down a ladder to meet him in her "new" uniform.
"Its not nice to leave a lady alone in bed, you know." This phrase, meant as a joke, sounded rather matter-of-factly from her mouth, and she looked down to see what he was doing with a stern gaze.
"I´ve had a spark of inspiration back then, Walter. Our Schedule might be tight, but i`ve got an idea that i´d defintely want to go through with during our one-week dock time- we`ve still got half a catapult and a crane to lift airplanes out of the water, but we haven´t got airplanes and it would be silly to launch them when those Arados would just be shot down in seconds. How about making a small, but comfortable fast submarine and launch it from that point? We could intercept enemies from a greater range, stealthily."

Bridgette, who stood behind her, said nothing, she merely looked over Walter`s work and took note of what he was doing. Personally, her heart was shivering thinking about this place, but at the same time, she desperately wanted to fire one of those guns to see what it would be like.

"I'm glad I'm so inspirational," was the butler's immediate response. It was uncomfortable inside the cannon tube, and his back was starting to ache, so, with a series of kicks and wriggles, he crawled up and dropped down onto the deck. Seaweed fell from his soaked clothes.
"I'm a gunsmith, not a marine engineer," he told her, matching her matter-of-fact tone. "I could design some of the weapon systems, but not much else. Unless you can build a fast, high-tech submarine out of the dated equipment we have?"
Walter grabbed a clipboard from a nearby crate and scribbled a few lines down, noting the faults in the gun battery, then passed it to a worker for delivery to the supplies officer. "We don't have the resources to replace the guns entirely, so we'll have to settle for scraping away the rust and coating the iron beneath with zinc. Once we know the new circumferance, I'll be able to start commissioning new shells."

Yureka huffed a bit and crossed her arms, annoyed by his bratty behavior. Well, his body`s age suited that behavior, but for crying out loud, the man was in his seventies.
"Of course i didn´t say YOU should build it. I was just saying that we could attempt it. You could design it, if you like, but thats it... i doubt that idea will even make it past planning stage. Just like the other idea thats scurrying around in my head."
Still, she chuckled a bit as he mentioned refurbishing the gun barrels and comissioning shells.
"Also, i`m not quite sure if you paid attention.... judiging from your exhaustion yesterday i`d say you didn´t, but that cargo ship that arrived brought eight new barrels for the eight main guns as well as 200 shells build to old specs... waiting for you in the cargo bay, also known as the mensa. ...as for the medium artillary, we´re gonna have to get back to your idea, i don´t think we could get new ones for those. Same as with the AA guns, though i got some ideas of my own for those."
After that lecture, she croutched down, peeking through the enormous breech of the secondary gun with a light grin before patting Walter`s dirty shoulder.
"I´ve been lonely there without you. You should be ashamed of yourself, after i opened up like that."

In the background, Bridgette, getting the wrong idea, was getting a bit flustered.

Information swirled through Walter's head, new ideas sparking then fading. As with any great number of things swirling around in a relatively small space, they all got mixed up, and he ended up without any ideas at all.
"You mean I didn't need to crawl in there?" the boy groaned, rubbing the back of his head and stretching the flexibility back into his young limbs. "Two-hundred shells," he repeated almost as an afterthought, licking his lips. "I hope they're new designs. I don't want them blowing us all up because of faulty wiring."
Walter twitch at the touch to his shoulder. "Oh?" he said curiously, throwing a grin at her. He was tempted to say, very loudly, You mean opening up about your model-building?, but he knew that would end badly for him. Instead, he added a warmer smile onto the end of his grin, arms folding over his chest. "I'm sorry. We'll catch up later."

"Thats what they all say. Besides, you didn`t hear my second idea yet... Millenium has all this technology to create cyborgs to keep our veterans alive, but... why should we? Why not build a soldier from scratch, designed to suit our tastes and requirements?"
As she was getting more and more worked up about the idea which was esssentially modelmaking, completely not getting how Walter was holding back about teasing her, the image of her and a storic, robotic double of herself with machine gun arms crossed her mind. It was awesome. Too awesome, in fact.
She groaned.
"I really do need to... "get laid", i suppose. I`m turning into a nerd fast."

Walter stared at her for a long, long time. "Nazi robots," he slowly pronounced. "I'm not exactly sure what your, ah, 'tastes and requirements' would be. An enormous humanoid which can walk through the waves and punch our enemies into submission? Or more like those fighter drones the U.S.A is testing?
The more he talked, the more he began to think seriously about it. "Hm. The Major would object. He wants people who can bleed and scream to do his fighting - not robots."

Yureka huffed a bit, feeling the need to punch him into submission arise. However, she refused to, seeing how he actually considered it.
"Maybe not a fighting robot then.... guh, maybe i`m just lonely. It sounds like it."
Shaking her head a bit, she took the clipboard from Bridgette and looked over the timetable for today, nodding a bit in approval.
"We´ll be arriving in France in seventeen hours... could do some sightseeing there. Though i´ll be busy stealing a set of nuclear fuel rods for our new engine."
A smirk of glee appeared on her face, thinking about it.
".....maybe thats something we could use the robot for!"

The boy butler winced and prepared to dodge backwards, but Yureka's fists did not move. Letting out a breath, he stood next to Yureka and glanced over the clipboard.
"France?" he asked, blinking. "We're going to power this with nuclear fission? I...think the Major would approve of that. Transforming the Bismarck into a nuclear submarine..." Walter shuddered. "I don't think we can build a robot in seventeen hours, Yureka..."

Yureka grinned a bit as he began to get her point.
"Not a nuclear submarine, a nuclear warship. Like the american aircraft carriers- in fact, we`re bought one of their spare engines, without the fuel rods, for museum purposes... of course, they don´t know we`re putting it in place of our old boilers."
She grinned wider, beginning to rub her hands.
"All we need are some fuel rods to start it... it just so happens that a nuclear power plant is located not far from our dock. When the refit work is complete, we could hop in and pay them a visit, leave with a souvenier and fire up that monster..."

Bridgette, who remained quiet until now, raised her hand in objection.
"You`d have the entire french army on your behind, Yureka, you can´t just do that."

The vampire woman turned back to her, grinning in a triumphant manner.
"I remember a certain, 1000 men strong army i wiped out together with my commanding officer.. and keep in mind they`re not expecting us, they don´t have the manpower, the equipment and the morale that the germans had... "

Walter stared at the clipboard for a few more seconds before tearing his gaze away. It didn't bear thinking about - Yureka's childish fantasy wasn't going to come true. He wanted to leave it at that. Besides, her second plan was much more interesting. The butler had never been near a nuclear plant, but he knew the basic premise. Rods of uranium had neutrons fired at them, splitting the atom and creating vast amounts of energy. The boards were required to dispose of radioactive waste underground in vaults, where it could take thousands of years to become safe, but Millenium had no such restrictions. The ocean would prove a useful dumping-ground...

For the first time, Walter seemed to notice Bridgette. "I agree with her," he told Yureka. "We can't barge in, guns blazing." The boy paused. "Well, we could," he conceded, but a a plan might be useful. Ripping a volatile nuclear reactor right out of its chamber might not be a good idea.

(Just for your information- dumping it on the sea would be unnecessary as spent fuel rods are essentially raw ingredients for nuclear weapons- even if the mods would never let us have one, we could technically use those to make nuclear shells for the 38cm`s. Besides, it takes a long while for those to become "spent".)

Yureka sighed, but nodded in agreement about the second complaint he had.
"Yes, thats true. I heard those things get mighty hot when they lack coolant... but they`re bound to have a storage full of unused fuel rods somewhere. We should get those. Also... i´d like to redecorate the Admiral´s cabin."
That was without saying, half of the room was decaying while it was exposed to air. Bridgette`s nose cricked at the thought, and she tensed a bit.
"Afterall, i don`t want to discomfort my apprentice when i invite her to my room."
Blinking, the younger vampire flared up red at this comment and moved a step back... especially at the dead serious way Yureka said that.

Placing his clipboard down on a nearby barrel, Walter folded his arms over his chest and sniffed the salty air. The comment about inviting Bridgette to Yureka's room didn't exactly surprise him, but it knocked him slightly off-balance, and that irked him.
"Where will I sleep?" he grinned, stretching his arms out to the sides. "The crew quarters are filthy."

Yureka raised an eyebrow in an act of surprise, though she was just toying with him,

"What, you don`t feel comfortable sleeping with me? ... if thats the case, i suppose you can choose your own room on the officer`s deck and order whatever you like to renovate it. You`re doing enough for the ship to earn it.

Once again, Yureka started to grin at the capabilities of this giant war machine.

"Can you imagine the sound those cannons must make? I can`t wait to hear them.... as soon as they`re back to a serviceable state, we gotta fire some blanks, you know. To celebrate."

Bridgette nodded and noted that on her clipboard.
"Noted, Yureka. Does that come before or after the tanning session on the upper deck?"

If one looked closely, one might see Yureka blushing a little bit. "That one was a joke, Bridgette. Strike it and replace it with something useful... " Turning back to Walter, she smirked a bit, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. She´d have to look superior and proud now, or it would falter her domination.That little slip up of a mistake couldn`t undermine her power.

Walter furrowed his brow. "Perfectly comfortable, apart from your snoring. I figured you and Bridgette would be sleeping together. Having...whatever you do...keeping me awake would be unfortunate."
Seeming to agree with the new arrangement, Walter faced Yureka in silence, not returning her smirk but relinquishing no ground. He felt like there was already a tension between them, a subtle struggle for power. He was surprised to find he was okay with having a friendship with her, though the imposing woman definitely made him nervous.
"I hope we'll make a good team," he said, shifting his stance a little.