No One's PoV
A string of profanities echoed across the wooden deck as consciousness slammed back into a figure like a bucket of ice water. His legs wobbled beneath him as he staggered upright, one hand pressed against his throbbing temple. The salt-laden wind whipped at his clothes, and the deck pitched gently beneath his feet with a rhythm that felt sickeningly wrong.
"God fuckin damnit. Where am I?" He muttered, blinking hard against the harsh morning sunlight. "The Missouri? I'm on the..." His voice trailed off as recognition clicked into place. The distinctive gray bulkheads, the massive gun turrets. This was definitely the USS Missouri, but something was terribly wrong with this picture.
The figure stumbled toward the bow, his boots clanging against the deck. Each step sent a fresh wave of confusion through his mind. The last thing he remembered was falling asleep in his apartment in Kansas City, over eight hundred miles from the nearest ocean. Yet here he was, somehow standing aboard one of the most famous battleships in history.
As he reached the ship's railing, his jaw went slack. Instead of the familiar sight of Pearl Harbor's memorial berth, endless blue waves stretched to the horizon in every direction. The morning sun painted the ocean's surface in shimmers of gold and silver, beautiful but terrifying in its isolation. No land in sight. No other vessels. Nothing but water and sky.
"The ocean?" He whispered, his voice growing hoarse with mounting panic. "This can't be right. The Missouri's been a museum ship for decades. She hasn't moved from Pearl since..." He gripped the salt-crusted railing until his knuckles went white, trying to ground himself in reality. If this even was reality.
A distant rumble of machinery from deep within the ship's hull made him freeze. The Missouri wasn't just floating. She was running. He could feel the subtle vibration of active engines through the deck plates beneath his feet.
This was impossible. Museums didn't just spring to life and sail themselves into the middle of the ocean. And they certainly didn't do it with unconscious passengers aboard.
Unless...
His hands tightened on the railing. "This is impossible," He muttered, scanning the empty deck stretching before him. Not a single sailor in sight. No watch officer on the bridge. No deck crew performing their endless maintenance. Just the whisper of the wind and the steady thrum of engines far below.
"Cool, but who's running this ghost ship?" His voice carried across the abandoned deck, swallowed by the vastness of the ocean. "And where is everyone?" He let out a nervous laugh, running his fingers through hair. "It's not like I could just say 'launch aircraft' and it would actually happen..."
The words had barely left his lips when the deck beneath his feet trembled. A mechanical whine cut through the air as the elevator platform rose from below, carrying a sleek Black Hawk helicopter. Simultaneously, the harsh screech of the catapult system echoed across the deck as a Kingfisher surveillance aircraft shot forward, steam billowing in its wake. Both aircraft lifted into the darkening sky with perfect precision, despite their conspicuous lack of pilots.
The figures heart hammered against his ribs as he watched the aircraft bank gracefully and begin their patrol patterns. A grin slowly spread across his face, equal parts amazement and mischief. "Oh, I like this. I like this very much."
He straightened up, adopting what he hoped was a commanding pose. His voice rang out with newfound authority. "Ahead flank, full speed!" The deck shuddered beneath him as the massive engines responded, the bow cutting through the waves with increasing urgency.
"Load Turrets One through Six with armor-piercing rounds," He ordered, barely containing his excitement. The deep mechanical groans of the main battery turrets rotating filled the air, followed by the distinctive sounds of automated loading systems cycling. "Turrets Seven through Nine, load high-capacity shells." More mechanical responses, more loading sounds. "All anti-aircraft batteries, stand by for incoming bogies!"
