Prologue - Bury Me Deep

I've always been strapped for cash, but this is just ridiculous.

Staring down at the digital bank statement on my laptop display, what I saw on the page devastated me to my core.

I have enough money to pay off my rent for the month, but… Tears began to stream down my face as I tried to find some solution, any way in which I could better my own financial situation. When I found none, I screamed out into the universe, seeking any sort of salvation from the gods above.

"I can't afford to buy all of this new Splatoon 3 merchandise!"

I slumped back into my seat utterly shell-shocked by this revelation, now simply trying to find a way to cope with the grief I felt in that moment. I knew very well that my coping mechanisms all kind of sucked, though, so the idea was abandoned about as quickly as it was introduced.

Anyone who knows me is well aware of my deep love for the Splatoon franchise. I bought the original game for the Wii U at launch and have played religiously ever since, also being an active member of the community over the years. I've as a result spent a solid heap of cash on merch, as reflected by my apartment being full of the stuff. Posters, keychains, plushies, clothing, if you name it I probably have it lying around somewhere. With that said, Splatoon 3 was coming out soon and my possibly unhealthy spending habits have come back to bite me in the ass. With all the money I'd been spending on said merch, my bank account had been suffering and I'd hardly had enough in it to make ends meet even with my low-end job. With student loans to worry about on top of that, it had been feeling as if I was teetering on the edge of washing out entirely for months on end, and that's not even to mention my medical and credit obligations on top of that still. No matter how I sliced it, something needed to change.

And I wasn't about to sell my Squid Sisters plushies for the cause, so I simply had to find a second source of income.

…

I decided to begin my search online, beginning to look for openings wherever I could. In between Splatoon 2 Ranked games I would fill out applications for any open position I could find, while looking into any postings I saw around my college campus as well. As rejection after rejection plagued my email inbox, I slowly but surely became less optimistic regarding my situation. I decided to open up art commissions on social media as well, hoping that I could score a bit more pocket money off of like-minded Splatoon fans hungry for content. When not many people took up that offer, I started to get desperate.

I had no clue as to what to do about my current situation, so I began to spend as much time as possible escaping into the world of which I found familiar; oftentimes I would simply boot up Splatoon 2 and idly walk my character up and down the streets of Inkopolis Square in a futile attempt to escape to a place I found to be better than the one I was in as of current. To be honest, it pained me that it was only a game, only something I could stare at through my TV screen. Maybe it was just because of my financial situation, but the world of Splatoon had always been a source of escapism to me. Whenever I felt down, I would try to imagine myself there, amidst the franchise's inklings, octolings, and beyond.

I know it sounds cheesy, but at times It truly felt as if I was born in the wrong world, that twelve thousand years in the future after my own species' extinction was where and when I was meant to be. It was something that saddened me to think about, so I tried not to let it weigh me down. It was a ridiculous dream, one that would only hurt the more I held on to it. Even then, though, I would never let go of Splatoon even if it was good for me to do so. Regardless of the reason, it's too important for me to simply release my grasp from it..

As for my actual life, I began to concede that I was simply screwed, that any action I took would be futile in the end. As I took one last look over the flyers tacked onto street poles, I began to consider that perhaps I would have to give up my happiness and well being after all.

Perhaps, God forbid, I would have to sell-

Before I could finish the thought, my eye caught a strange piece of paper. The cheap-looking Scotch tape binding it to the pylon looked as if it had almost come undone, a breezy stream of wind threatening its integrity. I squinted, and gave the sheet a read.

RESEARCH SUBJECTS NEEDED

Looking for individuals willing to participate in a cryonics experiment utilizing the newest technology and innovations of the industry. Subjects must be between eighteen to thirty years of age and willing to put their affairs on hold for a three-month period during the duration of the trial. Those admitted to the experimental program will be given round-trip plane tickets to and from Tokyo, Japan and complimentary lodging at the trial site, and will be compensated with a combined sum of $500,000 United States dollars-

Five-hundred thousand?

I nearly dropped the flier in pure shock at the large sum of benefits being offered. I was in disbelief at how perfect the offer was. Free housing and no obligations was already a great deal, and half a million dollars on top of that? It was even happening in Japan, so I could grab some Splatoon merch while I was there without having to deal with inflated shipping costs or having it sent from a secondhand distributor. It all lined up perfectly, so without even glancing at the wall of warning labels at the bottom of the page I entered the contact information given into my phone and stated my interest. Not even a minute later I received a response illustrating my acceptance into the trial program, and it wouldn't be long until I find myself where I am now, on a plane in flight high over the Pacific, replaying the Octo Expansion campaign mode once more as a way to ground myself before entering this next phase of my life.

…

The alleyway was dark and gloomy, as if it had laid unattended for millennia. What little cracks of sunlight were visible did little but make the particles of dust that lolled through the air more visible, their subtle shine only making the locale seem even more aged.

As for the buildings, they looked about as derelict as one would imagine from such a dark side-street, and though my confidence that I had found the correct destination was waning, the address number before me told no lies.

Grimy would be an understatement of a word to describe the building before me, as the concrete shell of the structure had been covered in a thin stained coat of moss and mold.

Doubts raced across my mind. Had I been duped? Though I didn't want to admit it my desperation move seemed as if it were for naught after all, and as such I would finally need to face the music regarding my finances.

Just as these anxieties began flooding through my mind and clouding any sensible train of thought, though, the door to the building I previously examined opened with a creak. Out came a thin-looking man wearing a casual T-shirt. Before I can think to respond, he calls out to me.

"Crow McEnroe?" I jolted at the use of my name. "It's good to see you, you're right on time."

I attempt to form a response, stuttering slightly out of shock. "Y-yes, that's me."

The man does not wait for me to regain my bearings before continuing. "Come in! Make yourself at home."

I follow the man's instructions into a place that looks more run-down than how one would imagine a state-of-the-art cryonics facility to appear, but when I turn a corner and look more closely I discover what was meant in the application.

In the midst of the barren building is a mess of wiring coming from every direction, all linked to one sole vertical chamber. That chamber is surrounded in a bulky layer of some kind of metal, with what looks like a large door unlatched and open so that the machine's innards are visible.

Before getting the chance to examine it further, though, my eyes avert to the two others in the room. While one of them is wearing warm winter clothing, the other dons a sleeker outfit in a crop top, jean shorts and high socks. As if on cue, the two of them give me a slight nod to acknowledge my presence and go about their business.

"These are two, uh, interns of mine," says the doctor, "They've been… very helpful towards my goals in recent years."

Goals…? I once again brush it off as phrasing and address one of my more glaring concerns.

"So…" I state slowly, "Weren't there meant to be more than one person in this study?

The question clearly causes him to get a bit antsy, though it doesn't seem to affect the two interns. "Ah, yes, uh…" He pauses for a split second. "It seems as if you're the only one here so far! The others will come soon enough, I'm sure." He chuckles slightly, clearly uncomfortable with the subject

"All right…" I stammer, deciding to change the subject. "Also, why did you distribute physical fliers in the United States? If you're based here, why not just look for applicants there?"

"Ah, well, I'm from the States myself, you see…" The doctor once again pauses. "It is true that we are based here, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to bring fliers with me whenever I came to visit."

After another long mutual silence he adds, "To see family, that is."

Another twenty seconds of silence ensues, a period of time which I begin to doubt whether I had made the correct decision in coming here. Suddenly though, the researcher opens his mouth once more.

"So… If you'd like, we can get right started with the procedure, since you're here already."

I interject. "Really? Shouldn't we wait for the other test subjects?"

"No! No need!" he practically yells. "The study is extremely… independent, so there's no reason for us to wait!"

"Well, all right, fair enough."

"In that case, could you enter the capsule?" the man says, motioning towards the large device.

I hesitate, as the idea of putting myself into this small chamber needless to say makes me feel a bit uncomfortable.

Half a million dollars is a lot of money…

Knowing that my livelihood likely depends on it, I take a step forward.

I've come all this way…

Nearing the enclosure, the doctor and the assistant in shorts begin to fiddle with me, helping to undress me and open the latches to the chamber, helping me in. The other is nowhere in sight, having likely slipped off somewhere.

He and the intern then add numbing cream to certain parts of my body and inject what look to be IV drip needles at those sites. As they begin sticking electrodes to the surface of my skin the assistant in the winter coat returns with what seems to be some amount of syringes accompanied by vials containing chemicals. Them and their two associates each help fill the needles, and one by one inject them into my body.

Quickly afterward, my vision starts to blur and I become dizzy. I hardly notice when the doctor begins to speak again, and with the ringing in my ears and fog in my brain It becomes hard to parse words.

"We — be asleep — three months — will wake you when — safe and secure."

Seemingly finished talking, I can make out his vague figure turning around and walking away, as an assistant straps something in front of my nose and mouth. Suddenly a sense of heavy drowsiness is added on to my already dissociated mental state, and just before my eyes shut for good I can see the two interns shut the doors separating the chamber from the rest of the world.