Pirates Pick a Bad Day

Barely an hour had passed since everyone crash-landed in this bizarre new world. Most of the class was still coping with saltwater in their shoes or cursing the fact that Roy had stolen the show with his giant warship. But while heated arguments and mild bullying brewed on the beach, an even bigger problem roared over the horizon—a column of scruffy pirates hauling a massive supply wagon.

Roy, standing near the shoreline in a half-dazed state, wasn't the first to notice. That honor went to Emiko, who nudged Hina and Alejandro. In seconds, the Triplets squeaked, "Nope! Not dealing with that," and scampered into the safety of their conjured steel mansion like it was a tornado bunker. Their big metal door clanged shut, leaving everyone else blinking in confusion.

A guttural voice barked from the wagon's lead rider. "Oy, you weird kids—where'd ya get that fancy pot? And that sword? And that, uh… giant metal box the three folks just hopped into?" He was a barrel-chested brigand with mismatched armor. A few dozen equally rough pirates gathered behind him, brandishing scimitars, hammers, or random bits of chain. In the back, a hulking captain stood, black bandana draped over an unwashed ponytail.

One of the students, Kelvin, tried to look tough. He clutched the pistol he'd wished for, shouting, "Stay back!" He pulled the trigger—and promptly missed so badly, the bullet whizzed past the pirates and hit a rock. There was a beat of silence.

A pirate spat in the sand. "That the best you got, kid?"

Most of the class froze in terror. They had fancy items, sure—but the reality of a real fight was different from just bragging about them. Corvy, for his part, cradled an unhatched monster egg, mumbling, "Um, it's not ready to help me yet," which didn't inspire much confidence.

Then, out of nowhere, Caliban stepped forward, calm as a statue. He'd asked for armor absorbing armor, something that did exactly what it sounded like, absorb armor, take its stats and abilities. The deity had kindly given it a base ability even though he hadn't asked for it. It clanked around his body, runes glowing faintly. Rows of flaming lines steaked across its surface. He fixed a deadly stare at the pirates, who stared right back. Silence fell again, broken only by the wagon's creaking wheels.

Without a word, Caliban lunged at the nearest cluster of pirates. His speed spiked so dramatically that half the class gasped. Within seconds, he dropped ten or fifteen of them, armor-enhanced fists sending brutes flying. Panic spread among the pirates. Some tried to stab him, but their blades barely scraped his runic plating.

"Enough!" roared the pirate captain, stepping forward. He was tall, scarred, and had the aura, and girth, of a man who'd stolen more lunches than anyone in history. "You," he pointed at Caliban, "fight me one-on-one. Over there, away from the group."

Caliban, who'd just finished headbutting a short pirate into the sand, straightened. He eyed the captain and didn't notice any armor. "Fine," he growled, flicking blood off his gauntlet. The class parted like the shockwave hit them as Caliban and the pirate captain moved about a hundred yards away, tension thick in the air.

Meanwhile, the rest of the pirate crew surrounded the students. "Hand over them weird goodies, or we'll break some heads," snarled one with a face tattoo that read "love" in some scrawled nonsense. The kids backed up, trying not to trip over lumps of seaweed.

A scrawny student named Geoff, who'd wished for a Gatling gun with infinite ammo, fumbled with the huge contraption. "Got it!" he finally yelled. "Eat...lead, losers!" He cranked the handle, unleashing a deafening barrage of bullets. For a moment, it looked like the pirates would get shredded—until five old men in ragged robes stepped up, chanting under their breath.

A shimmering wall snapped into place, deflecting the bullets in every direction. A few ricocheted, nearly hitting a cluster of students. Everyone freaked out—shouts of "What the hell?!" and "Magic? That's real?!" echoed across the beach. The old men kept chanting, arms raised, forming a circle around Geoff's frantic firing. The bullets rained uselessly against that shimmering barrier.

Roy had been half-hidden behind a chunk of driftwood, five droids surrounding him for protection. He cursed his own cowardice as the chain ladder lower. But then he remembered: he had a battleship. More importantly, a bunch of battle-ready robots. He clutched a radio and muttered, "Serenity, can you, uh, send out the droids to help my classmates? Like, right now?"

Up on the towering warship, Serenity's voice answered, "Understood, Captain Roy Gunn. Deploying rescue units immediately."

Seconds later, a chorus of mechanical footsteps thundered across the gangplank, some leaped straight of the deck landing softly on the sand. Robots with gleaming metal limbs rushed the beach, eyes glowing like some futuristic horror show. The pirates pivoted in shock, brandishing swords or clubs, but it was too late—the robots descended like steel raptors. They moved fast enough to blur, especially the six in front, who bolted so quickly that even Roy's classmates gawked.

"Holy shit, you seeing that?!" someone yelped as the first wave smashed into the pirate flank, systematically disarming them. The six leading droids hit like unstoppable bullets. Broken swords clattered, pirates hit the sand with yelps of pain. Yet the droids were oddly precise, as though trying not to kill. Bones were definitely snapping, though, and the screaming got intense.

On Roy's display device, Serenity spoke, "Your battleship includes six Super Elite model droids—9th Generation 66-J-iR7 Models from the Pi-Es-Kei Corporation, specifically Soma Sector's top-of-the-line. They appear to be…extremely proficient."

"That's an understatement," Roy mumbled. He watched those humanoid super droids mow through a swath of pirates like it was a choreographed dance of brutality and restraint. "They're really strong, huh?"

"Yes, Captain," Serenity replied, as the droids snapped a massive hammer right out of a pirate's hand, then dropkicked him across the sand. "But do note, they're not currently killing anyone—at your implicit preference, I assume."

The second wave of Elite and Advanced droids emerged like a steel phalanx, their jointed limbs moving in eerie unison. No guns or visible attachments—just metallic fists and feet that landed with pinpoint brutality. Their lines of lights glowed a steady blue, and every pirate who tried swinging a sword or raising a hand-crank crossbow instantly regretted it.

A swordsman lunged at one droid, only for the machine to pivot a fraction of an inch, the blade whiffing past with a razor-thin margin. The droid retaliated by grabbing the man's wrist and yanking it at an unnatural angle until bone snapped. It follow by burying the pirates head in the sand. Another pirate, evidently braver or more foolish, tried to tackle the droid from behind. He ended up slammed to the ground, pinned under a cold metal knee as his shoulder was hyperextended with a gruesome pop.

All of it happened in chilling silence—blue-eyed mechanical figures picking off the pirates as though they were cogs that needed forcibly realigning. A few unfortunate souls hurled spells: arcs of fire and spikes of earth soared at the droids, but the machines dodged with near-effortless precision, letting lances of flame graze within millimeters of their plates without a hint of scorching. Though, the pirates who cowered or ran were only disarmed and gently kicked to the ground.

A band of four base-model droids soon found themselves encased in a crude dome of rock—an earth mage's desperate attempt to contain them. Rather than panicking, the droids calmly rapped metal fists on the stone, assessing weak points. Then they struck in perfect unison, shattering a chunk of rock wide enough to escape.

Moments later, a shimmering barrier snapped shut around them, cast by the same panicked mage. The base models slammed at it with steel knuckles, each blow sending arcs of magical sparks but failing to crack the dome. When an Elite model arrived, though, it landed a single, perfectly timed punch that spider-webbed the shield and blew it apart in a flash of shining shards. The stunned mage collapsed to his knees as the advanced machines swept past, the last model drove a knee into his face that rendered him unconscious.

Standing on the battleship's chain ladder and riding it up to the deck, Roy shivered at the sight of what he could only call merciless efficiency. "Jeez, it looks like they're brutally punishing bravery," he muttered, watching pirates flail in agony or lie moaning on the beach, entirely outmatched by an army that refused to kill but had no qualms about delivering bone-breaking lessons.

Then Serenity's voice crackled out across the beach from some speaker in a droid's chest: "Super Elites, Elites, cease hostility. Allow lesser model units to test capabilities."

"Huh?" several students mumbled, confused, as the fancier droids stepped back. A bunch of simpler, slightly clunkier robots waddled in to show off their moves. Even they were more than enough for the battered pirates, who could barely swing their weapons. The result was almost comical—like finishing a job with rookies while the experts took a smoke break.

Eventually, fewer than ten pirates remained, huddled near a battered wagon. One wore a grimy vest and was apparently "the first mate," judging by how the others deferred to him. And five scrawny older men in tattered robes were the same mages who'd blocked the Gatling gun. The first mate barked a command, eyes wild.

"Form the circle! Summon it!"

The robed men began chanting, arcane runes swirling under their feet. A giant symbol glowed on the ground, making a nauseating wave of mana surge through the air. Some of the kids clutched their stomachs, dizzy from magical energy.

Then it appeared: a towering beast, part lion, part sea-snake. Over fifty feet tall, radiating an oppressive aura that made weaker students sway on their feet. The first mate scrambled onto its back, scrawling frantic runes across its scales. Moments later, five shimmering shields rippled around the monster, then winked out of sight.

"That can't be good," moaned a student.

"Charge!" shouted the first mate, and the monstrous hybrid lunged forward—only to catch a small missile right in its serpent-like muzzle. The blow sent it reeling, as two more missiles streaked in from the side. One shattered the layered shields, the other smacked its flank, eliciting an ear-splitting roar.

On Roy's battleship, autocannons spun up, unleashing a torrential hail of bullets. The five old mages yelped, chanting again so new shields formed and layered onto the monster, valiantly trying to block the barrage. For a few heartbeats, they held. But then two more missiles slammed into the monster's sides, toppling it to its knees in a massive quake of sand and sea spray.

"Stop, I beg you! I raised him from birth, twenty years I've cared for him!" the first mate shrieked, clutching the creature's scaly neck. "He's everything to me!"

One of the super-elite droids soared onto the monster's back with a single leap, seizing the first mate by his greasy hair. Before it could yank him off, Roy's voice blared through the battleship's loudspeakers: "H-hold! Don't kill him, or his pet. Let them leave."

"More mercy, captain? You know they wouldn't give you the same treatment," Serenity said.

"Kinda hard to feel like I need to respond with lethal intent for the first time in my life when my current greatest fear is missing dinner," Roy responded.

All gunfire ceased. Missiles paused mid-launch. Even the Gatling student froze in mid-trigger-squeeze.

The first mate sucked in a ragged breath. "Thank you, God of Fiery Thunder," he coughed in Roy's direction, before steering his half-crippled monster away, runes still flickering on its scales.

But then a whoosh of wind overhead signaled Caliban's return. He came down from the sky, armor blazing with red runes. In a single motion, he slammed a fist into the beast's spine, snapping it with a sickening crack. The first mate was flung to the side and bounced off the top cover of the wagon before smacking into the ground. The massive cat-snake shrieked, toppled, and died on the spot, squashing half the wagon and the first mate.

Roy stared in horror from the ship, voice cracking through the loudspeaker: "Caliban, I told them they could leave!"

Caliban sneered, standing on the carcass. "Shut up, rat. Let this be a lesson to all these worthless fools. Spread the word, hostility here leads to annihilation." His armor crackled ominously. Roy glimpsed scorched earth behind Caliban, where the pirate captain had once stood—now just a charred patch with a sword lying in the ashes. The fight had ended swiftly, and not in the captain's favor.

Distant cannon fire echoed from down the shoreline. A pirate ship was emerging, hoping to rescue their battered mates or retaliate. They fired two cannonballs at Roy's battleship, but they bounced harmlessly off the thick hull with dull clangs. A few more rounds came in, also deflected like toy balls hitting a tank.

On the monitors, Roy saw the droids hurrying back to the vessel. Serenity, however, had apparently decided on a different plan. Two torpedoes whooshed into the water, streaking toward the pirate ship. Boom. The vessel erupted in flames, pirates flung through the air. Roy's stomach dropped.

"Serenity!" he shouted. "I didn't say blow them up!"

Her voice sounded genuinely apologetic through the console. "I—I'm sorry, Captain Roy Gunn. I'm not an experienced combat AI. I just… pressed the torpedo prompt because that's an anti ship weapon. I'll be more careful next time."

Roy stared at the screen, where pirates scrambled or drifted among flaming wreckage near the coastline. He had no idea how many survived, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to find out. Scenes of violence flickered across every camera feed. Caliban was lobbing sizzling spheres of flame at the few pirates fleeing into the forest, his eyes gleaming with something savage. Roy remembered the day Caliban nearly roasted him in an alley after pouring gasoline on his back. He shivered as those memories flashed again.

"Captain, he appears unhinged," Serenity commented in a calm, near-whisper. "I know you don't want to kill, but, should we neutralize him before he grows too powerful?"

Roy swallowed, wiping sweat from his forehead. "No. We… we're not doing that."

"As you wish." Serenity flipped one feed to show the rest of the class. Most were fine—maybe a few scratches or bruises—but the shock in their eyes was evident. Magic, savage armor powers, unstoppable warship missiles. They were in way over their heads.

Roy exhaled, watching a super-elite droid gently steer a trembling student away from the carnage. The blood-soaked sand was a stark reminder that this world had real, life-or-death battles—and not everyone was playing around.

He wanted to throw up, or pass out, or both. But he forced himself to keep it together. If he lost his cool now… well, that future might be even darker.

"Um… good job, droids," Roy muttered, voice trembling through the radio. "Just… let them retreat."

In the distance, the monstrous cat-snake lay crumpled, its once-majestic runes flickering out. Caliban turned to stomp away, armor flaring. Meanwhile, Roy's classmates either stared in numb awe or tried helping the injured. 

With smoke rising from the beach and pirate bodies strewn about, Roy realized this new world was going to be far more complicated—and far bloodier—than any of them had expected. The wind carried the acrid stench of gunpowder and burnt wood up to Roy's vantage point on the battleship. He could only hope tomorrow's battles would end with fewer nightmares.