A man can be seen waking up on his bed as the early morning daylight is shining through the window frame of his two-story home. Removing the blanket, the man in his fifties sits up with his feet lowering onto the wooden floor. Looking over his shoulder after rubbing his eyes, the man is unsurprised to see his long-time wife is already up and about. Most probably already cooking breakfast downstairs.
Nodding to no one in particular, the man then goes to the washroom to freshen up, rehearsing the daily routine he has so used to whenever on shore leave or is posted in the vicinity of their capital Farbanti. This ends with him putting on his navy coat and attaching the necessary accessory and the commendations on it. After that, he makes sure his appearance is up to a proper Admiral standard before he joins his wife down below. He walks across a neatly organized cabinet, atop which is a case containing battle awards and medals he received in his tenure for the Royal Navy. Sparing it a glance, he gently rearranges a badge to be in line with the rest, then, he resumes his walk.
By this point, the man's wife has already laid down a carefully wrapped breakfast for her husband to take to work. Seeing the package on the dining room table, he smiles. "Aida Rowe, my love, what have you cooked up on this lovely morning?"
Hearing the voice of her husband, Aida, who has been washing the cooking utensils, turns around with a gentle smile while wiping her hands dry. "I packed you some nice and crunchy fish and chips for you to enjoy whenever you're free."
The pair then comes closer for a hug and a morning kiss. "Just make sure to find some time to finish it before lunch, John."
The man, full name John Tovey, chuckles. "Fish and Chips, made by my wife, of course, I will devour it as soon as possible."
Rolling her eyes, Aida replies. "Not soon enough for a homely breakfast, as per usual." She said it in a fake complaint.
"You know me, love, can never get myself to wake up in time for breakfast at home these days." John said with a wry smile.
Smiling understandingly, Aida rests a hand on her husband's chest, tracing the ribbons he earned in battles. "I understand, dear, you have your duty to uphold and I will be a bad wife to stop you from fighting the good fight. I just wish that you would have taken that cushy desk job."
John laughs before saying. "And risk a mutiny from my men again? Please, I have had enough to last a lifetime."
Aida giggles along. "I still can't believe Lucas managed to orchestrate a parade to convince you to stay and lead the Home Fleet personally."
Nodding with a nostalgic smile, John says. "It's unconventional, but it worked. And now," He then reaffixes his officer cap before picking up the food package on the table. "I have to go and lead the men at sea."
Frowning worryingly, Aida replies. "If only you would have to deal with only the Sardegnians like usual. But now, with Erusea joining the war against Belka, I can't help but think about your safety."
Laying a kiss on Aida's cheek, John confidently answers. "Aida, I have fought with the Belkans before, and me in a destroyer back then couldn't be killed by them, much less me with an entire fleet at his disposal right now. Don't you worry, the Belkans won't be able to lay a scratch on my battleship as right now, King George V is the best in the Royal Navy."
Suddenly, a car can be heard honking outside their home. Peaking out the window, John can see his chauffeur and personal aide, Lucas waving at him in the personal car allotted to him by the Admiralty. Smiling apologetically at Aida, John is about to say something when Aida beats him to it. "Go, dear, you don't wanna let the men tease you for being late after a long vacation. Hell, they would soon be sending me flowers if you allow them the chance once again."
Hugging his wife, John says gratefully. "I will wrap up my sortie in a jiffy, after that, I will request the resuming of my vacation. Baby making is more important than being a skipper in my book."
Giggling with a blush on her face, Aida smacks her husband in the chest before pushing him out to the door. "Just go, you bloody buffon!"
Laughing all the way, John says over his shoulder. "With any bit of luck, this mission will be no trouble whatsoever, honey! Remember to keep my bed warm!"
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*RATATATATATATATATA*
"FUCK YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!" A very enraged voice could be heard shouting amidst the sonorous orchestra of anti-air armaments being fired into the sky. The person behind that voice is, shockingly to anybody but the crew of the Reina Regente, the Captain of the Spanish cruiser, Captain Giraud.
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After his cruiser and her escort, the destroyer Espaina, have picked up survivors of the HMS Hood and HMS Prince of Wales. The pair of vessels have been sailing a fair distance behind the Bismarck, namely 60 km away just in case they have to pick up any more sinking sailors. Admiral Torres has explicitly assigned them to aid the Belkan warships in rescuing any sailors and that's what they fully intended on doing. If they weren't suddenly targeted by a flight of Swordfishes all of a sudden.
*RATATATATATATATATA- CLICK*
The clicking of an empty ammo belt frustrated Captain Giraud, having been firing his Belkan-make 20mm anti-air autocannon nonstop. But nonetheless, he did score a few good hits on one of the bombers that snuck a torpedo into the aft of his cruiser. He then watches as the Swordfishes fly away outside of their effective range, very pissed about the uncalled-for attack. Though the feeling is vindicated when one of the more heavily damaged Swordfishes seems to have a dead engine before losing enough to plow into the ocean.
"Hell yeah! Take that you Erusean scum!" *PTUI* Captain Giraud shouted victoriously, alongside the rest of his men, before spatting his spit over the deck. They don't know why they were attacked by these Erusean pilots, especially when the Kingdom of Erusea has started to support the Spanish Inquisition's cause, putting behind old blood debt according to their diplomats. But that's the least of their concern right now. What matter now is to report this up the chain of command. The Erusean's arrogance must be made clear!
Suddenly, an Ensign in charge of communication runs up to Giraud before handing over a slip of paper. Ignoring the look of utter disbelief on the Ensign's face, Giraud takes a look a the paper before he too sports the same look.
"Sorry for the kipper, Captain. We mistook you for Belkan warships..." Giraud repeated the words, two, then three times, even his men look at each other in shock at the sheer audacity of the message. "WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD IS THIS!?"
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"The mission is filled with trouble, dear Aida." Admiral John Tovey said to himself in a lamentable tone. He is now using his binoculars to see a squadron of beaten Swordfishes landing on HMS Ark Royal. The news they brought back has been disheartening to the officers of the Home Fleet, and ludicrous to the lower-rung seamen. The Swordfishes did not find a single trace of Vice Admiral Holland's squadron, much less any Belkan vessel, but instead, they torpedo-attacked a neutral Spanish patrol to a crippling effect. And now, John Tovey can just about imagine the pilots to be grilled by not just the officers of the Ark Royal, but also the court of the Admiralty when they come home.
After all, despite both Erusea and Spain having been enemies a couple of years back, the bad blood was pushed aside with Sardegna came crashing. So, the King and Prime Minister Churchill endorsed the Spanish, letting them fight with their former master. Hoping to gain not just influence in the region but also an ally of sorts. In other words, Erusea can mobilize its force against the threat that is Belka when Spain and Sardegna duke it out. But now, they risk pushing the Spanish away altogether due to this mishap. Apparently, the Spanish have been very vocal in their condemnation of their acts of interfering with the Belkan supply convoy. This will probably be the droplet that overflows the chalice for the Spanish.
Sighing, John reassesses his situation, walking back to the tactical map of the regional sea. After repeated search attempts, as much as it pains him to do so, he and the rest of his peers must accept the truth that Vice-Admiral Holland's Capital Squadron is lost at sea, most probably with all hands. As such, they're now left with whatever the vessel that Home Fleet has in the region to go and intercept the Belkan battleship of unknown capability and her escort.
Right now, the Home Fleet of John Tovey has:
* 2 aircraft carriers: HMS Ark Royal, HMS Hermes
* 2 battleships: HMS King George V, HMS Rodney
* 1 battlecruiser: HMS Repulse
* 1 heavy cruiser: HMS London
* 2 light cruisers: HMS Sheffield, HMS Edinburgh
* 4 destroyers: HMS Cossack, HMS Maori, HMS Zulu, and HMS Sikh
With smaller detachments spreading out across the open sea to scour the area for any Belkan vessel. However, the dwindling daylight and stormy condition of the Atlantic have rendered any search attempt void. Meaning, they risk losing track of the Belkan warships by tomorrow evening. By that time, they could have been anywhere.
Nonetheless, John is unwilling to give up just yet. They have presumably paid a steep price in lives out there to stage this fiasco. And John is compelled to force this mysterious warship into the light. As such, John spends most of the night brainstorming with his officers, even calling for the pilots from Ark Royal and Hermes onto his ship to be interviewed. By extrapolating and compiling the data from previous search attempts, John comes up with locations where the two Belkan warships could be and their hypothetical routes, based on the premise that they're sailing for Belkan water. Hopefully, by morning, they can send in aircraft to verify the sites. John even makes a sort of handshake patrol pattern, one that allows a vessel in distress to immediately be reinforced by another nearby. John has come to the conclusion their radio is being tampered with, hence it's imperative that each perimeter vessel must be able to carry out a search without being isolated from the rest of the fleet, just in case of another communication blackout.
Interestingly enough, John did think up one strange possible route that the Belkans could have taken. The route that leads directly to him, and by extension, the Home Fleet. But surely, there's no way in Hell things would develop in such an easy manner for John, no? If they do that, then they will be trapped in the middle of the Atlantic with the finest of the Royal Navy. As such, he only sends a token of aerial scout to survey the route. Regardless of where the Belkans will go though, John is full of confidence that they will be able to find where the enemy is. And then, things will be finally put into motion.
If not, John can kiss his baby-making vacation goodbye.
What John and the rest of the Home Fleet don't know at the time though, is that it's not Bismarck that is locked with them in the Atlantic. It's them that are locked with Bismarck with no way out.