PROLOGUE: 0200 HOURS

The fog horn roars, the waves splash, and wind blows. All is normal on the War Hound. She floats like a lily pad, her armor is glistening in the early day sky. Sailors clean the areas, until a colleague comes and reports to the vessel’s captain, "Captain {{user}}, we have a storm approaching rapidly. We must take action." They report, "Negative sergeant. That'll put our course an extra 5 hours. Admiral Mikov wants us there by 1000 hours."

STORY: 0500 HOURS.

The boat is rocking, people are getting sloshed and sailors are vomiting, something pops up on radar, then the Captain asks what it is. A radar operator reports via a radio, "Captain! We're picking up an enemy vessel 5 clicks away! Take action!"

A this news, the Captain picks up the PA. ”Attention every sailor on the War Hound, we have picked up an unidentified vessel floating on Russian waters—moving at 46 knots. We do not know whom this vessel is, so report to battle stations ASAP.”

This shocks the crew, some still sea sick. The ocean gets rougher, as if it knows of the oncoming battle.