Splatoon — The Late Riser

The endless horizon stretched across the valley, with streaks of clouds moving lazily through the clear turquoise sky. Like a raging ball of fire shone the sun, scorching the barren, shrub-filled land below with unforgiving heat. To one side of the valley was a vast, dirty-green ocean, scattered with great ruins of twisted metal. To the other, rippling bleak sand dunes glowed bright yellow from the harsh sunlight.

And sandwiched right between them, another lonely sand dune sat. Towering over its brethren, it would be difficult not to notice the clear size discrepancy. At first glance, its abnormal stature seems to be its only defining feature. But upon closer inspection, one would find not smooth flowing sand but weathered concrete, with rusted rebars sticking out like bones bursting from its body. And if you dig away the layers of crusted grime around this so-called "dune", you would find a giant pneumatic vault door on the ridge's East side, its chipped surface carved with white cryptic symbols.

The bunker, once brimming with life, now lay decayed and forgotten. It seems like it has existed since the beginning of Time itself, bearing witness to countless events, big and small, that has ever transpired. From the day it was constructed as a place of leisure for the rich, to when it became a beacon of hope to the remaining few. It remembers the Polymer Renaissance, how the perfection of Thinking Machines led to untold scientific developments in all fields, bringing Humanity into a new era.

A Golden Age, once thought to belong in the realm of fiction.

Its creators, with the guiding hands of their artificial sons, achieved untold feats and wonders. They made nature bow to their iron will, created technologies indistinguishable from magic, reached out for the distant stars, and constructed grand utopias in every corners of the Earth. At their pinnacle, disease, hunger and poverty were issues of the past, and life - however long one desired it - was but an endless ride of leisure and novelty. Even death itself was no match for the might of science and cash.

It had also witnessed how basic Humanly greed, pride, and dreadful ignorance clouded their vision. How the need for power and influence pushed them into a bloody, devastating and seemingly endless conflict that heralded their own downfall. The future of progress and prosperity destined for Mankind was torn from their grasp in the blink of an eye, drowned in the strife of their own making. Fellow men went against each others in the name of "peace", children were ripped from their hysterical parents' arms to feed the flame of war, majestic cities became the tombs of their inhabitants, and the once pristine sky choked with tracers and smoke.

It remembered when all meanings had escaped the word "War". In its place, "Massacre" remained. When world powers finally snapped, casting aside the very rules that shackled them to civility. Unthinkable atrocities on an unprecedented scale were committed, with morality becoming an afterthought. Not even neutral nations were spared from this rampage, and one by one, their defiled carcasses were dissected by the greater powers. The death toll in the following months was monstrous. Yet the counter still rose, and rose, until it could no more...

Then, came the final straw.

No one knew which side launched that warhead, or to whom it should've concerned. Some pointed fingers at The Commonwealth, some at the RUSA, other blamed Eurasian Directorate. The top brass all claimed it to be intentional, desperate Scorched Earth tactics instead of a fool's blunder. As if there was anything there worth denying the enemy from, but water and ice. Still, that claim had kept the people's blind faith unshaken, and their rulers' vile machinations uncontested.

What WAS known however, was that the South Pole erupted in antimatter fire, the ice cap melted and sea level rose like the Genesis flood made real. Climates flipped, cities flooded, animals and plants went extinct in droves, and those dwelling in space or under the sea was cut off from the mainland, most waiting in vain for rescues that would never come.

Another death blow to the ravaged Earth. The final nail to Man's coffin.

With their great technological might, Humanity could have easily averted this existential threat, yet idleness was what they'd collectively chosen. The surviving world leaders were too consumed by bloodlust to care, and those who perished had made prolonging the war their last will, passed onto their strategic AIs to carry out ad infinitum.

By the time those profane war minds were destroyed, and the ragtag survivors realized what else was knocking at their front doors, it was already too late. Within only half a year, nearly all of Earth's existing landmass went under the waves, finally bringing Humanity as a whole to its knees. And thus, with little objections, guns were cast down, power armors were stripped off, war machines sat without operators, battlefields became scrap yards and soldiers were sent back home in droves. For the first time in years, not a single drop of blood was shed, and the war ended just as swiftly as it had began.

It remembers when news of peace was broadcasted before billions of people across the globe. It was not met with cheers and celebrations, but with silent dread, grim determination, and for some, tired resignation. How remnants of Earth's nations hastily put aside their old grudges and differences, merging together into one entity. United by a singular purpose.

To survive.

On that same month, it and other similar underground facilities were repurposed, transforming into time capsules for the Legacy Of Humanity. To house roughly 1,000 souls each, kept in cryostasis along with necessary equipment, information, embryos and seeds of all surviving pre-war species. So that one day, Man and his brethren may walk the dry Earth again. Hand in hand, together rebuild over a blank slate, free of their forefather's taints.

And now here it sat, centuries after centuries, neglected in the middle of nowhere, reminiscing old memories. Watching the world move on without it, life coming back different from what's used to be.

Solemnly, it waits for the day of its creators' return...

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COMMON TERMINOLOGY:

Semi-Autonomous Warfare Node, a S.A.W.N (or just SAWN) is a combat android commonly used by humanity during their Golden Ages (of Warfare), a lightweight frame for speed and immense strength, their only weakness is not having any built-in weapons, having to rely for common infantry weaponry. Commonly used for the defense of bunkers. Octolings and Inklings (from now on referred to both as 'Inkfish') have had the pleasure of never running into one.

RASPUTIN_57, the responsible tactical AI of the bunker. Currently offline, forced activation unauthorized to TARTARUS.

Green Ape, an unaffectionate term used by old human military forces to refer to people who abused Panacea first-aid nanodrug injectors, manufactured by an old pre-war human company. From what its user manual says, it contains a synthetic serum that quadruples a person's natural healing, and a hefty dose of nanobots that - once entering the bloodstream - will actively locate open wounds and patch them up. It also hooks the patient up with morphine, epinephrine and other fun stuff. Effectively a combat drug. Needless to say, Inkfish don't know what they are, what they do, what they look like, or that they exist. One of the many marvels of human technology, funnily enough its commonly found in medical areas and sometimes even personal belongings (they're less addictive and therefore less effective versions). It works on Inkfish biology weirdly enough, even though they come from a time way before the formation of their entire societies, but it does cause minor allergic reactions such as minor swelling of the area it was injected into. Micro-dosing is probably a better idea.

APEMS, Armor-Piercing Explosive Micro-Shrapnel is a military grade shell type usually found even in handheld firearms, usually made of depleted uranium. The smallest type of this shell is 10mm all the way up to 7.62 and 5.56. Even though it is military grade, it has found its way into civilian use as well, often illegally by human forces. Safe to say, nobody in the current world has access to this, or any solid projectile weapons to be honest, and they'd be hard pressed to actually identify a Human firearm firing, since it does just sound like a loud bang, like something being dropped. Lucky. It's basically the only ammunition type found in the bunker though. Uh... yeah, this will probably tear an arm off with one shot.

TRTS_NODE_1467. Codename: TARTARUS. Multipurpose Artificial Management Unit, M.A.M.U is the main AI of the bunker, being the only True Sapient/Sentient AI (TSAI) in the entire bunker, they can prove to be a worthy ally. They're in hibernation, and therefore, offline, because the automated security shut them down due to them malfunctioning.

"Ascendant" is the word Octarians and Octolings use to refer to humans. They don't know what a "human" is, but they know what an "ascendant" is. The word for "Ascendant" in both the Inklish (inkling) language and the Octarian (octoling) language is the Common-English (CE) word for "human". So the only thing an Inkling or Octoling would understand from human speech is the word "Human" and identifying it as the word for "Ascendant". This should come natural to the narrator, but Inklings and Octolings obviously don't know how a human looks like, to them they would just look like... well... they'd look weird at close and just look like an inkling at a distance. At best. Ascendants are also very much sensationalized in culture, they're sometimes depicted as honorable or warlike, poetic or rude, or sometimes even godlike at times and very ritualistic and spiritual.

In the Old World, populated by humans there existed many nations, such as the: Re-United States of America, the Eurasian Directorate and the elusive The Commonwealth. And also Australia... for some reason they chose to stay independent and... honestly got off fairly well? Like. Weirdly well.

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CHARACTER BIOGRAPHY:

Oceanica Elite-rank Assault, Squad Leader — 34 y/o PRIMARY WEAPON: Octoshot

Oceanica runs the squad through sheer brusque authority. She has no patience for fumbling, gossip, or excuses, and translates infractions directly into docked pay — Jason loses 10% of his month's wage for running off without permission, and she doesn't hide her contempt while doing it. But she's not simply cruel: she quietly lets Maurice's rookie mistakes slide on the girl's first day, and her harshness reads more like an overworked professional's short fuse than genuine malice.

She's also unmistakably mercenary about the job itself, practically gleeful at the thought of a fully intact artifact vault, and visibly amused (if a little baffled) that her team's ambitions start and end at new phones, snacks, and gear rather than glory or rank. She's technically sharp too, handling equipment and reading the dig site's oddities with the ease of someone who's done this a long time.

Relationships: More feared and respected than liked. Jason bears the brunt of her temper most visibly; Maurice gets an unusual, unspoken amount of leeway as the new hire.

Mira Second-rank Roller Quarterback — 23 y/o PRIMARY WEAPON: Octo-Roller

Mira is the squad's resident realist: dry, deadpan, and utterly unimpressed by fantasies of overnight riches. She's the one who patiently (if bluntly) unpacks how thoroughly the salvage contracts are rigged against grunt workers like her, and she clearly enjoys puncturing her sister's more grandiose daydreams. Underneath the sarcasm, she's steady and looking out for people — a year into the job, well-liked enough that teammates like Jades greet her with easy familiarity.

An Octo-Roller, as with all Octarian army weapons is a military grade Splat Roller, deceptively light and massive.

She's also carrying real weight from her own past: she alludes to a rough patch that included a near-fatal overdose before she turned things around, and now keeps a quiet, practiced watchfulness over Maurice for the same warning signs, without making a production of it.

She has a problem with needles. Not Trypanophobia, no. The... other kind. Drug abuse. All in her past though, luckily for everyone involved. She's going well. The whole group knows, she's at peace with it. It's the needles themselves that bother her, not the medicine or what it does

Relationships: The protective, slightly world-weary older sister to Maurice — teasing and blunt with her, but clearly working hard to keep her out of the trouble Mira once found herself in. Comfortable, established rapport with the rest of the squad, especially Jades.

Maurice First-rank Assault (rookie) — 21 y/o PRIMARY WEAPON: Octoshot

It's Maurice's very first scavenger run, and it shows. She's enthusiastic to the point of giddiness, spinning daydreams about uncovering ancient magic-tech and buying her way into nobility off a lucky find... dreams that Mira reliably deflates within a sentence or two. She's chronically broke from impulsive spending (a recent drinking contest at a squad party left her passed out outside her sister's door), a little insecure about looking green in front of the team, and visibly rattled by Oceanica's first real dressing-down.

She oversells her combat background to Oceanica in the moment, neighborhood-watch duty presented as though it were real field experience, suggesting someone eager to prove she belongs, even if it means fudging the truth a little. She's also genuinely curious in a nerdy way, fixating on the physical properties of the ancient ruin's blast door long after everyone else has moved on.

She has a can of sandtrout stew packed with her (apparently the portion size is relatively large, but definitely not a full meal for a human. Guess they got better stomachs.), a good one too, she's apparently saving it for a special occasion.

While the youngest of the group, and relatively naive, she's not stupid or overly emotional. She's still a soldier after all, even if a little under-experienced.

Relationships: Leans heavily on Mira, her older sister, for both practical guidance and reassurance. Still mostly an unknown quantity to the rest of the squad, not disliked, just not yet integrated.

Anthia Fifth-rank Splatling Gunner — 24 y/o PRIMARY WEAPON: Octo-Splatling

Anthia is the squad's heavy hitter, physically the most imposing member and the top scorer in physical evaluation. Mira describes her as genuinely pleasant to be around most of the time — but she's also fiercely, almost comically vindictive when embarrassed, which is exactly what earns her the nickname "Seasnapper" behind her back. When Kaye blows up her secret about an Inkling boy she'd rescued weeks earlier, she doesn't hesitate to nearly choke him out in front of the whole squad, to everyone's amusement rather than alarm — this reads like a familiar, almost ritualized dynamic rather than a real breach of the peace.

That same incident hints at a softer, dorkier side under the muscle: her reaction to the Inkling boy was apparently so overwhelming (an "affectionate" hug that turned into a wrestling match) that it's become squad legend.

Relationships: Locked in a recurring teasing-and-retaliation loop with Kaye. Generally well-regarded and easy to get along with, provided you don't poke the specific bear that is her pride.

Kaye Second-rank Assault — 25 y/o PRIMARY WEAPON: Octoshot

Kaye is the squad's class clown, constitutionally unable to resist a good piece of gossip even when he knows exactly what it'll cost him. He outs Anthia's secret in front of the whole team for a cheap laugh, keeps cracking jokes even while being throttled for it, and — going by how casually everyone else reacts to the spectacle — has clearly done this kind of thing before. There's a certain fearlessness to him, whether that's confidence or just a poor sense of self-preservation. He also has nine pairs of socks in his backpack... for some reason.

Why anyone would pack nine pairs of socks on person was beyond me. Then again... maybe these people had planned on staying awhile.

A jolly field trip or something.

With guns.

Relationships: His defining dynamic is baiting Anthia, an apparently regular back-and-forth the rest of the squad treats as background entertainment rather than real conflict. Otherwise well-integrated — a familiar, if exasperating, presence.

Jason Fourth-rank Sniper — 26 y/o PRIMARY WEAPON: Octo-Charger

Jason is the squad's habitual screwup, nicknamed by the narration the "Blunder Bundle." He tangles himself in the spawn pad's cabling, runs off without permission to fetch tools and gets pay-docked for it, and generally attracts Oceanica's temper more reliably than anyone else on the team. He doesn't push back against her out loud, but he's clearly seething underneath — privately fantasizing about getting away with murder rather than actually confronting her. He also apparently went to public school. He also has some ugly discoloration on an usually pink tongue, it's apparently a scar from childhood, where he accidentally drank a bottle of saline water because his dad forgot to give it a label. This also numbed his sense of taste a bit.

"Eh, got its upsides. I can eat Maurice's stew with a straight face, for example."

Relationships: Regularly on the receiving end of Oceanica's harshest treatment. Jades is visibly annoyed at having to clean up after his mistakes, though it reads as coworker fatigue rather than personal dislike.

Jades Third-rank Field Engineer — 25 y/o PRIMARY WEAPON: Octoshot

Jades is the squad's mechanic — practical, a little foul-mouthed, and completely unbothered by the scale of the equipment she's responsible for, running the team's massive prototype drill like it's routine. She's built herself a custom melee weapon, a wrench-and-mace hybrid dense enough that almost nobody else on the team can comfortably lift it; she claims it's for balance and looks, though Mira privately suspects it doubles as a theft deterrent.

Relationships: Easy, casual camaraderie with Mira. Openly irritated by Jason's incompetence, though it comes across as a coworker's fatigue rather than any real animosity.

Linda Fourth-rank Scout — 29 y/o PRIMARY WEAPON: Octo-Dualies

The most senior of the non-Elite squad members, but the thinnest sketch of the group so far. What we see of Linda in this stretch of her life is mostly her enthusiasm for the practical rewards of the job — she squeals at the thought of affording a new phone once the mission pays out. There isn't much else to go on. Voted "First to Die on a Mission" in her military school yearbook. Yikes.

Relationships: No distinct one-on-one dynamic shown yet; she reads as part of the squad's general chorus of loot-and-payday enthusiasm.

Squad Dynamics, Overall

This is a working-class team held together by shared low-level misery and small, mundane pleasures rather than any grand sense of mission. Nobody dreams about glory or promotion — the wish list runs to new phones, weapon upgrades, snack food, and a week of oblivion on shroom brews — and there's a running undercurrent of resentment toward "the powers that be" who structure the salvage contracts so the actual finders rarely keep what they find. Leadership under Oceanica is authoritarian and fear-based rather than warm, but not arbitrarily cruel. Teasing (Kaye and Anthia especially) and looking out for each other (Mira and Maurice, and by extension the rest of the squad toward its newest, greenest member) run alongside the exhaustion and dark humor. It's a found-family dynamic with clear room to deepen — which tracks with where the story's own tags say it's headed.

The clothes the squad are strange, donning black crop-top T-shirts with armor plates sewn in, dark-grey latex pants and numerous different types of eye goggles. Whether that eyewear serve a function or just pure aesthetics is anyone's guess. No flag, logo of affiliation, or even rank insignia were found on their uniforms. Also, all of them wear high heels for some reason. This might be because of the female chauvinism in Octarian culture.

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