A Bulldog's Legacy REMASTERED (USS Oregon in Azur Lane)

Chapter 4: Back From The Grave

"There's nothing a few well-aimed tons of iron and explosives can't solve," Oregon remarked as he turned to examine his ship once more.

"It's been so long since I've worn this paint scheme. 80 years at the very least..." He murmured to himself.

The Azur Lane ships were still hesitant. Quietly they murmured amongst themselves, wondering if this ship really was the former barge they had been transporting, marveling over the fact he was male, etc.

They were quickly jolted from their discourses when Oregon suddenly spoke again, this time not very kindly.

"Don't you know that it's rude to talk about someone who is listening?" he snapped. "Since you have evidently and already forgotten that I am right here, I felt obligated to remind you of my presence before I heard something I don't like."

Vestal was the first to react to this unexpectedly long-winded outburst. "S-sorry, s-sir! We're just...surprised that you are...w-well-"

Oregon scoffed. "That I'm male? Please. What you should really be concerned about is how a 130-year-old scrap pile could turn highly advanced enemies into ocean fodder before a group of 'modern' ships could pull themselves together."

In a gentler tone he added: "Try working on your reaction times first. Trust me, it'll come in handy more often than you might think."

"A-are you really that barge we were towing earlier?"

"Wrong tense. I was that barge, yes. Being like that is equivalent to being paralyzed. Good thing I restored myself when I could, heh. Otherwise you gals might have ended up as mincemetal.

"And as for my name? It doesn't matter much, but I am Battleship Oregon, the third numbered battleship of my nation's glorious Navy! I have traversed seas that would make Captain Nemo afraid to be in!"

Once again the name was familiar. "We once knew an Oregon, but it was so long ago that I cannot remember..." Baltimore was the first to voice this similarity.

Oregon grinned. "Perhaps all you need is a bit of mind jogging, and I can provide it. You were part of Operation Magic Carpet, the enormous process of shipping home millions of US soldiers after WW2 ended. On one of your trips you stopped at Guam, where I (in my former barge form) was kept. We spoke for a while, and I can remember some of the people you were carrying lamenting over how I had been reduced to such a state."

Baltimore was surprised at this revelation. "That...that's actually right! I remember seeing an old barge at Guam! That was actually you that entire time?!"

"Heh. Yep. That was me. I can still recall the war stories you gushed."

Oregon addressed everyone present. "That goes for all of you. I know how each and every one of you fared during and after the Great World War 2. Give me your name, and I can name your fate."

"Isn't that...a bit creepy though...? Knowing how we died, but yet your own file is blank aside from some basic info?"

Oregon's expression became one of bemusement. "Ah, so you looked me up then? Of course my records would be blank. The circumstances regarding me were not so...publicible."

Oregon cracked his knuckles. "Unfortunately now is not the time or place for storytelling. Shouldn't we continue our journey to your base?"

"That's right. We really should be getting a move on."

Oregon turned to his ship. "Righto. Let's see if me old boilers can still fire up."

Smoke began coming from his ship's dual funnels, but other than that, nothing seemed to be happening. Then a dull, reverberating thud boomed from it, followed by the clanks and groans of machinery.

Oregon winced and briefly clutched at his chest. "Ack...I was afraid of that...Damn machinery is frozen again..."

He turned back to the shipgirls. "Unfortunately I have to perform some very overdue emergency maintenance on my engines, and until that is done I am stuck here."

"Can I help in any way?" Vestal offered.

Oregon held up his hand in refusal. "I appreciate the gesture, but right now you'd only be wasting your time. My technology is from a period well before yours, and it'd be likely too archaic for your experience.

"And as I hate to make others wait because of me, you all should get going. You have a home, friends and family to return to."

To himself he murmured: "While I have nothing..."

"But what will you do all alone?"

Oregon pointed a thumb to the smoldering heaps of metal beyond his ship. "I think I can take care of myself if they were any indication. And if necessary, I have my own ways of concealment."

Baltimore and Bremerton winced when Oregon added: "Besides, if you found me heavy to tow as a hollowed-out corpse, imagine how much heavier I'll be now that I have all my innards back.

"Now get a move on. You're wasting valuable daylight standing around like this. Give me the coordinates of your base, and I'll head there when I'm ready and able to."

"If you insist..." Baltimore then gave Oregon the requested coordinates.

"Excellent. I will see you there...eventually."

As the shipgirls headed home, Oregon teleported inside his ship and proceeded to begin fixing his machinery.

He found that most of his internals were in the same state they had been when they were removed: rusty, unkept and badly needing oil and other lubricants.

"Ughhhh...This is going to be a while..."

A couple of hours later he had almost finished. The process was infinitely easier since he could test his own machinery on command when he had to.

But as the workload lessened his mind drifted to what Baltimore had said about his blank personal file.

"They really deleted everything about me, hmm? Cowards..."

Oregon scowled to himself. "They brought it upon themselves. Half-scrapping a museum ship, beloved by his namestate, only to be left to rot. I showed them several times what happens when you mess with something you know very little about.

"They sold me to Japan after the war, as if they had been any more responsible with their ships. Only then the Japs didn't do anything! Left me to rot and rust, festering away like the plague my own superiors thought I was. And a flood and a falling building got to have the last laugh...

"Ungrateful bastards. The whole lot of them. I never want to interact with any humans again. Ironic, since I now have the body of one."

Only then did Oregon remember that he was completely alone, or at least was supposed to be. He had this odd feeling that someone was nearby, but his equipment didn't show anything above or below the ocean for miles around.

Shaking these thoughts away, Oregon refocused on his machinery. He had to get moving, soon. Night was falling, and under normal circumstances this was not the safest time of day.

"Just...a little...more..." He grunted, as he unstuck the final rusted bearings.

He could feel the difference in his own body as well. He felt...looser, his joints not so stiff.

He stretched. "Ahhhh...feels good..."

With his boilers hot and full of steam, he carefully attempted to accelerate.

While still a bit stiff and jerky, his engines creaked and groaned to life, the stiffness quickly wearing off as his speed began increasing.

"Who ever knew coming back from the grave would feel this great?" Oregon declared as his ship set off into the darkness, the setting sun behind him.