Urgent Distress Report – Unjust Ejection & Forced Mercenary Conscription
To the Commandant of Strike Hawk,
Subject: Urgent Distress Report – Unjust Ejection & Forced Mercenary Conscription
Esteemed High Command,
I write to you from the perplexing world designated "Earth," I'm referring to the same Earth that has been safeguarded by our founding father, Hamura. Yes, Earth, the very planet from the course "Cosmic Earthlings 101" which I excelled in, with a score of 91. (Yes, I am bragging) So, anyway I have been stranded due to an egregious act of interstellar misconduct. My crewmates, in what they referred to as "a joke," forcibly ejected me from the vessel Stellar Horizon under false accusations. The alleged crime? Urinating on Captain's ceremonial garment. A crime, I must stress, that I did NOT commit. The real culprit likely still roams free aboard our spaceship, no doubt reveling in the aftermath of their crime while I suffer an exile that was deemed "funny" by my so called colleagues.
Actually, praise the stars! Someone finally brought justice to Captain's shirt—that atrocity of a garment was as hideous as Urashiki's face. However, let me clarify and stand my ground ONCE MORE: it was NOT me. Why in the vast, endless cosmos would I ever commit such an unsanitary act? Especially when I've already endured the torture of Captain Chrome's late night electronic copulatory activities, which have kept the entire crew awake on more occasions than I care to count. If anything, the real crime here is that.
Despite my repeated denials and the absence of any forensic bio-scans, my so-called comrades saw fit to impulsively ejected me from the spacecraft for a fraction of a cosmic cycle, expecting me to admit to an offense I unequivocally did not commit. It seems their sense of humor outweighs their commitment to proper judicial process. I was left plummeting through the atmosphere as they laughed and hyper-jumped away. I imagine they are now regaling others with this tale at some lowbrow galactic dive, while I—an innocent being—am forced to survive among the hairless bipeds of Earth.
My initial attempts at communication have failed since i was kind of ejected without my bags, transmitter, or any of my essential devices—except for this... Void M99 sniper rifle. Which, frankly i have no use of now that I'm stranded on earth. Really, this thing is too destructive and it slices through dimensions—in what possible situation would I ever need to use this here?
Honestly, i'm not sure how Im going to submit this complain yet and I doubt rescue is even an option now that I've completely exited the radar. But let's be real—I don't need saving from anyone. Especially not from my so called colleagues who EJECTED ME out of the spacecraft like i'm some trash to giggle at.
Anyway, let me document my suffering in excruciating detail.
Upon forced ejection, I found myself hurtling through the merciless void of space, where I was given the rare and uniquely opportunity to experience what it feels like to be struck by a star's plasma wave. My honest review; it hurts more than that time when i got my ass beaten in Galactic Anthropology for sleeping in class (Iykyk). The impact was not only catastrophic to my external physiology but also severely dampened my will to continue living. Whatever, I am the strongest after all, and therefore, capable of withstanding any hardship, even if it means being marooned on an unfamiliar planet. Anything is better than being subjected to Urashiki on a daily basis to be honest.
I learned the hard way that the gravitational force on this planet is exceedingly strong, causing my body to plummet down at a high velocity of approximately 120 miles per hour. Despite my efforts to use my wings to slow the descent, gravity proved too overpowering, and I crashed down like a doomed meteorite. The landing—if one could even call it that—resulted in the dislocation of both my shoulders, severe nausea that led to the expulsion of all previously consumed nourishment, and an overwhelming sense of betrayal. Weak, wounded, and deeply questioning my life choices, I was forced to take shelter in a dark, damp cave as I struggled to regain some semblance of composure.
Unfortunately, my suffering did not end there.
I was soon discovered by a local mercenary group who call themselves "Akatsuki." One of the member seemed to be Kaguya's spawn and regard me as some sort of threat of world conquest and therefore forcefully recruited me into their groups, who believe my presence to be some form of elaborate performance art. Their primitive minds cannot fathom my predicament. I am now a prisoner of circumstance, bound to an organization that thrives on violence and chaos.
Other random fact I could think of is that the dominant species here (The humans) appears to have an unhealthy obsession with 'mating ritual novels' and fermented liquid substances that impair motor functions for whatever reason. The humans (Well, I'm not entirely sure as they all seemed quite inhuman in my eyes) in the 'Akatsuki' have also tried offering me a these fermented liquid substances known as "alcohol," I proceed to lose my vision and the feeling of my left toes. I am now an alcoholic— as they said.
Furthermore, I demand that my crewmates—particularly Urashiki, whom I suspect to be the true culprit—be subjected to rigorous interrogation under neuro-scrutiny protocols. The stain upon the Captain's garment was not my doing, and I will not have my legacy tarnished by such an absurd scandal.
If my distress signal is ignored, I will have no choice but to assimilate into human mercenary culture, wield their primitive weaponry, and carve a name for myself in their violent history—not by choice, but by necessity. The blood of my enemies will be on your hands. In the worst-case scenario, I shall ascend beyond mortal constraints and claim my rightful place as a deity—much like Kaguya once sought to do. From there, I will establish a new clan and forge an army under my name.
P.S.
Before I conclude this letter, let me take a moment to personally curse Urashiki and Roland, the two brainless degenerates responsible for orchestrating my ejection. May their sleep cycles be forever plagued by indigestion. May they stub their toes on every metallic surface aboard the ship. May their oxygen filters malfunction at the most inconvenient times, forcing them to experience the mild yet infuriating sensation of just being slightly out of breath.
And to whoever keeps sabotaging the electrical room, I hope your very soul short-circuits the next time you so much as breathe near a power grid. Do you have any idea how exhausting it was to repair that every single cycle? If I ever return, I will personally ensure that you experience the same level of suffering I endured when I was plummeting through Earth's gravitational hellscape.
Lastly, my deepest disappointment goes to Captain Chrome, who, instead of conducting a proper investigation, humored the idiotic notion of voting out the most "sus" crew member. And somehow, that ended up being me. Captain, with all due respect (which is to say, absolutely none at this point), you have failed me, the ship, and basic rational thought. Despite claiming it was all in jest, I trusted that you would never actually attempt to end my existence—given my status as a nobleman and, might I add, your intern. Yet, look at where we are now. Stranded, humiliated, and forcibly recruited by mercenaries who think I look "funny." I hope your precious ceremonial garment gets permanently stained with whatever other mystery fluids have been lurking aboard the Stellar Horizon.
Yours in cosmic defiance,
[Y/N Otsutsuki].
Currently Trapped on Earth, Against My Will