Azur Lane: Under Development

Chapter 1: Departures

"We think we've found the candidate."

"... Nope. Not good enough."

"What do you mean?"

"You've got much of the requirements. Good tactics, good work ethic... but look at this psychiatric test! It won't do."

"So... back to the drawing board."

"Indeed."

"Not only do you want a dude with an impeccable service record, you also want him to have strategic genius, charisma, leadership, and all these other buzzwords you'd see on job applications. Plus he or she has to wrangle the attention of a volatile group of anthropomorphized ships to save the world from a mysterious and alien force which seeks nothing but destruction of this planet. And of course, have perfect mental health. I don't believe for a second that this hypothetical person exists outside of fiction."

"Yes, that's precisely what we've hired you to do."

"Does my contract have medical coverage? I think this aneurysm of mine is about to burst."

"I have a bottle of Tylenol."

"I hate this job."

"From the depths of the entire committee's hearts, we thank you for your sacrifice."

"In any case, have his file. I don't give a damn what you do with it."

"You know... this is actually quite promising. It isn't everything that we're looking for... but we can make do until we find the guy in the prophecy."

"..."

"..."

"God, do you remember when we didn't have to deal with shit like aliens and prophecies and talking ships? I'm so done."

—

On a bright Thursday, where the sun was at the perfect angle to glare into everyone's eyes and be a general nuisance, a young man hopped out of his ride bearing his clothes, personal effects, and a name. His name would soon not matter, because absolutely nobody would use it for the near future.

The Commander squinted to try to see through the unpleasant glare that reflected off of all the buildings. He winced at the bright light; the ride hadn't been smooth and he felt quite nauseous and felt the beginning pains of a migraine. A fountain with an anchor was splashing clear water in a gentle stream, creating a pleasant ambient sound of water flowing. Some water got on his trousers from walking too close, and he cursed. Thankfully, no one was around, so he continued to drag his suitcase by himself to where he assumed the commander's office was. The entire place was eerily empty, it seemed. But that was just fine. Nursing a headache and a wet pant leg, he dragged his stuff in, and was ready to sleep on any kind of furniture with a flat surface. He spied a sofa, and cheering internally, collapsed into it.

But there was an open window letting light right onto his face. He muttered, "Damn, if only the window blinds were closed..."

And as it was said, it was done. The blinds were closed.

The commander shot his eyes way open, despite his persistent migraine. And his vision focused on a figure. A figure with a maid outfit.

The maid curtseyed. "Who may you be, stranger, who walks into an officer's quarters uninvited?" The smile on her face was polite but screamed nothing but imminent danger.

Between the feelings of shock of sudden company and a death threat, the commander felt that there was no better option than to jump up and yowl like a cat.