A PAJAMA-YAWN EEL HUNT

A dull, briny wind tugged at Roy's pajama shirt, sending little ripples through the faded cotton as he stepped onto the battleship's deck. He hadn't even bothered to brush his hair or wipe the sleep from his eyes, and the half-lidded squint he wore looked more fitting for someone rummaging through their kitchen at three in the morning. Yet, here he was, at the cusp of dawn, confronted by the lazy crash of waves against iron hull plating and the screech of gulls overhead.

Roy had always believed he wasn't a morning person. In high school, he used to oversleep so often that even his mom started to mercilessly bullied him.

Now, in a new world, commanding a futuristic battleship no one else understood, it seemed his morning routine had changed not a bit: wake up, drag himself outside, grumble about the day. Only difference was that, in this realm, he was the unstoppable force who never had to worry about tardy slips.

He popped a jaw-cracking yawn and pulled up his pajama pants—decorated with little cartoon whales—before noticing a faint greenish shape undulating near the shoreline. The sun was half a fist above the horizon, bathing the water in pale orange, but the creature's dark silhouette was unmistakable. Long, serpentine, and crowned with faint, spiky protrusions, it moved with an unsettling grace as it circled a small fishing boat moored just off the coast. Even from the battleship's deck, Roy could see splinters of wood scatter as the monstrous form slammed its tail against the hapless vessel.

He blinked, shook his head once to clear the lingering fuzz of sleep, then heard an all-too-familiar melodic chime in his earpiece.

"Captain," came Serenity's crisp voice, cool and calm as always, "I'm detecting a large aquatic life form near the eastern shallows. Mana signatures around it suggest abnormal mutation or demonic influence."

Roy let out a resigned sigh, running a hand through his messy hair. "Please tell me it's just a big fish," he muttered, though he knew better. A dread swirl of tension coiled in his gut—he'd been in this world long enough to recognize that "abnormal mutation" rarely meant anything harmless.

"The scanning array pegs it at around 120 meters in length," Serenity continued. "Vital readings are… robust, and it's giving off what you might call a 'corrupt' aura."

"Great. First thing in the morning, too," Roy grumbled. He turned and stared at the horizon, where the shape now rose partly above the water. "What do you even call that?"

On the far end of the deck, a couple of Base-Model Presidroids were mopping away the night's salt spray. They didn't so much as glance up from their chore. Roy envied their single-minded efficiency. If only he could focus on one trivial task and not think about demon eels or unstoppable nuclear warheads for a day.

"Captain," Serenity said gently, "I have to advise immediate action. The fishing boat is at risk, and if this creature is as large as the sensors claim, it could easily capsize them."

Roy frowned. "Fine, fine." He stretched his arms overhead in another giant yawn. "But mark my words—I'm going back to bed right after."

He trudged across the deck in his mismatched pajamas, practically ignoring the urgency. He found his way to a small control console near the forward railgun station. A stiff sea breeze ruffled his shirt, sending goosebumps skittering across his arms.

Leaning over the console, Roy tapped a few keys, transferring power from the battleship's idle systems to the main guns. Lights blinked from green to amber. "Serenity," he said, "can you confirm if someone's on the fishing boat?"

A brief pause. "Heat signatures indicate one occupant. Possibly unconscious. There's also a high chance the boat's hull is compromised."

Roy winced. He pictured some poor fisherman caught in the crossfire. Another wave of guilt twisted inside him, reminding him that, despite all his advanced weaponry, he was often just as helpless emotionally as any of the townsfolk he came across. Even so, lives were at stake.

"All right, let's try not to blow the fisherman up along with… that thing." Roy keyed in a targeting protocol. "We can manage some precision, yeah?"

"Yes, Captain," Serenity said. "Locking on."

The hulking warship let out a low hum as the deck-mounted autocannons came to life. Two large barrels pivoted on motorized mounts, water dripping off them from the overnight condensation. Roy tapped a button, and a gentle recoil thrummed beneath his feet as the first shell spat forth.

Far away, perched atop a worn stone tower overlooking the bay, a man in regal attire set aside his half-empty goblet and peered into an aged brass telescope. He'd awakened at dawn, drawn by the commotion of that monstrous eel thrashing about the coastline. It had plagued his domain for decades, devouring fishermen, upending trade, and undermining his already tenuous hold on commerce. Yet this morning, as he squinted into the scope, he saw something even more unexpected.

An iron monster floated out on the waves. And on its deck stood a scrawny figure in… whale print clothing?

The royal felt his breath catch. The eel was a legend, a horror no one had managed to slay in 100 years, not even the best of his knights. But the scene through the telescope's lens showed this "pajama man" pressing some levers and pointing some strange metal tubes at the water, all with the casual air of someone watering a garden.

Then it happened: a thunderous salvo erupted from the iron vessel, and explosive shells bombarded the demonic eel in quick succession. The royal's telescope shook in his grip, nearly flying out of his hand as the creature shrieked. Even from this distance, the sheer destructive power was unmistakable.

He saw the eel's tough hide shred under the barrage, chunks of scaled flesh blown skyward in a grisly spray. Within heartbeats, the beast was floundering, pinned in place by repeated blasts. Eventually, the monstrous shape gave one last heave before it sank, its blood darkening the waves around it.

"What in…" the royal breathed. The entire confrontation, something that should have been a grand, weeks-long campaign, was over in the span of a few unstoppable cannon blasts. And the figure on the ship, that scrawny man, was yawning. Yawning! Like this legendary terror was beneath his notice.

The royal let the telescope dip. Ideas swarmed in his head—some opportunistic, some desperate. If a single shot from that iron vessel could do that to the eel, what else could it destroy? Rivals in the Umbral Consortium? Rebellious neighbors? Perhaps entire armies? The royal's heart hammered, half in fear, half in excitement. He had to get in contact with whomever commanded that war machine, no matter the cost.

On the battleship's deck, Roy let out a relieved sigh, stepping back from the console. The autocannons smoked faintly, pungent with spent propellant. The ocean lapped at the remains of the eel, swirling red in the morning's rising sun. Roy checked the sensors one last time.

"All clear," Serenity confirmed. "The fisherman's boat is heavily damaged, but the occupant's life signs are stable. I can dispatch a drone to assist if you wish."

Roy paused, considering. "Yeah, do it. But keep it light—just nudge them to shore. I'm too tired to greet someone this early."

Serenity relayed the order. A small rescue drone—a little more than a floating platform with robotic arms—slid off the battleship's side and skimmed across the water, heading for the battered fishing boat.

"Hey, Captain," Serenity said after a moment, "you want me to prep coffee? Or something else that's on your phone's 'infinite pantry recipes' list?"

Roy's shoulders slumped with gratitude. "Anything, that'd be great." A breeze wafted in from shore and Roy's neutral face turned sour. "God, I'm sick of the smell of this world. I swear everything here smells like raw shrimp, a boys locker room after a deodorant-less basketball game, and stale urine."

He made his way toward the stairs leading to the interior of the ship, ignoring the Base-Model Presidroids that continued to mop in their monotone, mechanical manner. His mind drifted. Another morning, another lethal threat. Another day in paradise?

Truth be told, Roy felt lonely. Despite having an army of robots and a hyper-advanced AI for company, he craved real human connection, one that wasn't a servant-master relationship like Serenity's and his. But hey, at least Serenity never judged his weird quirks.

A short while later, Roy stood in the battleship's cramped lounge, sipping steaming coffee out of a metal mug. Serenity's avatar flickered on a nearby monitor—a calm, cool-faced woman, digital lines accenting her cheeks and hair.

"Captain," she asked softly, "would you like to watch something? You mentioned last night that you'd share more of your 'movies,' I thoroughly enjoyed the docufilm 'Abeyance: The First 40 Days'."

Roy managed a small grin. On his copy of the phone a classmate brought, something Roy personally called the All-Internet phone, it stored countless films from his original world. It had become a nightly ritual to show Serenity old sci-fi flicks or comedic romps, the kinds of things that reminded him he was once just a bullied kid who found solace in imaginary worlds.

"Sure," he said. "Let's put on something light. It's way too early for an action film."

He fiddled with the phone's interface, sending a signal to the ship's central console. An old black-and-white comedy queued up on the lounge monitor. For a few minutes, they watched scenes of slapstick humor—actors pratfalling, trading witty banter. Roy found himself chuckling, letting the tension of the eel fight melt away.

"Captain… you appear happier," Serenity observed, her voice tinged with gentle curiosity. "You only laugh like that when it's pure comedic nonsense."

"Can't help it," Roy said, propping his feet on a low ottoman. "I grew up on stuff like this, I even did theater for like 7 years. Makes me forget this world's insanity for a bit, you know?"

Serenity's avatar nodded. "It must be nice, to recall your home. I… only have the data you provided, but I find it fascinating. The people, the sets, the humor derived from such simple acts. This is a classic from your 1930s?"

Roy barked a laugh. "Thanks for calling it 'classic.' You make me sound so cultured."

They sank into comfortable silence, broken only by the occasional sizzle from the coffee pot and the black-and-white comedic antics on-screen. Roy realized, in a flash of introspection, how odd his life had become: one moment he's obliterating a monstrous eel, the next he's showing a super-advanced AI a century-and-a-half-old movie while sipping coffee in pajamas.

He checked the time. Barely an hour had passed since his wake-up call. "Guess I'm not going back to bed," he muttered, draining the last of his coffee. "What about that fisherman, by the way? The drone still out there?"

"Yes," Serenity said. "It's escorting him back to shallow water slowly. He's shaken but alive."

"Good. And the eel's remains?" Roy asked.

"Mostly drifting, though some local scavenger fish have shown up. I detect a handful of onlookers at the city wall. Possibly knights from that city over there."

At the mention of a nearby city, Roy sat up straighter. "City?" He'd spotted it from the deck earlier but hadn't given it much thought in his grogginess.

"Correct. And there appear to be fireworks or flares being launched from that wall," Serenity explained. "No projectiles inbound, so I believe it's more of a signal than an attack."

Roy blinked. "Wait, fireworks? Now?" He set aside his mug. "Are they congratulating me for nuking their local monster. Or could they be, uh, warning me away for killing their guardian?"

A flicker crossed Serenity's avatar. "I cannot parse intent, Captain. However, scanning reveals no ballistic arcs, no aggressive posturing. Perhaps they wish to draw you in."

Roy felt a jolt of anxiety. People. He wasn't sure how to handle them in the regular world, a new world seemed much harder. But part of him still yearned for real connection.

He exhaled. "All right. Let's see what they want. But I'm not stepping foot in that city without caution."

Steeling himself, Roy climbed up to the bridge. The panoramic windows gave him a full view of the coastline, where faint bursts of colored sparks rose from the distant walls. He toggled the controls for one of the smaller drones—a palm-sized contraption with a camera and speaker—and set it to fly toward the source of the fireworks. If they were trying to talk, this was the safest method.

The drone zipped off, disappearing from view in moments. Roy tapped a console to link his phone feed to the drone's camera. "Okay, let's see if they attack it."

At the city gate, a cluster of guards scrambled in confusion as the "tiny iron bird" landed near them. Roy's voice crackled from its built-in speaker, startling them so badly that one dropped his spear.

"Testing… testing… Hello? I'm Captain Roy Gunn of the, uh, ship boat out here. Your fireworks woke me up… Do you have business with me?"

The guards exchanged nervous glances, then, with shaking hands, beckoned the drone forward. The one in charge swallowed hard before stammering, "W-We shall direct you to the baron. He w-wishes to speak with you—th-thanks for killing the Ferveneal eel."

"Captain," Serenity said gently, "they might also see your power as a threat—or a tool they can exploit. Should we proceed?"

Roy clenched his jaw, fighting off the wave of tension that welled up. "We'll go. But let's keep a safe distance. I'll take four of the Super Elite Presidroids on the dinghy with me. No one boards my ship."

Serenity's avatar nodded. "Understood. Shall I prepare additional drones for recon?"

"Yeah, do it. And… Serenity?"

"Yes, Captain?"

He gave her a small, wry smile. "Thanks for the morning movie time."

Her digital gaze softened. "I enjoyed it as well, Captain."

Roy squared his shoulders and stared out the bridge window toward the city's gray walls. He could just barely make out the shapes of people scurrying atop the battlements, likely gawking at his "demon ship." Part of him wanted to crawl back into bed and watch comedies all day. But he was here, in this world, with an iron fortress no one else understood. If the baron wanted to talk, so be it—Roy could handle it.

He stifled another yawn, pajamas still rumpled, and made a mental note to change clothes before meeting them. Some vestige of his old world politeness told him you don't greet a local lord while wearing whale-print pants.

He set a course in his mind: First, get some real pants, maybe a jacket that made him look a little formidable. Then, gather the Super Elite Presidroids, descend to the dinghy, and see what this baron had in store. With any luck, it would be a quick meet-and-greet, a courtesy, maybe a reward for saving their fishing routes. Still, a gnawing sense of dread tugged at his gut.

"Serenity," he said, forcing a note of confidence he didn't quite feel, "let's begin the approach."