Splatoon: The Drafted Squid

"What's the plan, Stan?"

Phish woke up suffocating via sleeping bag.

He had fallen asleep and stayed asleep throughout the whole night, tossing and turning in the grass. There was no washroom to clean up in and there was no mirror to reflect him, so he assumed that he looked much more green than he did blue. He woke up with a yawn, attempting to get up and stretch. Instead of feeling air filling his mouth, instead he was treated to a quick snack of sleeping bag fabric. He choked, feebly pushing the knapsack off his body until he managed to spit out part of the intrusive slumber material. Phish always assumed that breakfast in the army would be some generic ration that tasted pretty awful, but never assumed anything about knapsacks being on the menu.

A gaggle of laughter erupted from behind him. Spinning around, he rubbed his tired eyes, glancing at a sleeping bag that looked as though it were beaten up. One smiling Octoling greeted him, waving one hand out of the mess.

"Hey, Phishy. Good morning." She waved slowly, somehow able to move in the constricting bag, her short tentacles wrapped up above her head, making her head look somewhat like a dragon fruit.

Of course, just in case Mai had any hidden animosity directed towards him, he waved back slowly. "...Good morning, Mai."

Much to his surprise, she managed to pop out of the bag with no issue, switching from an octopus back into an Octoling within the span of a few seconds, stretching her arms in the open air once she had escaped from the comfortable fortress she had created. Phish scowled at the mess, unsure of whether or not it would be salvageable.

"...Great." He muttered, eyeing an Inkbrush sticking out of the top, dripping violet on what he assumed the bottom was on the knapsack. "Remind me to never lend you my sleeping bag again."

Rolling her eyes, Mai just kicked at the bag with her boot. "Good luck trying to clean out your sleeping bag then."

The two cephalopods shot glares towards one another, the sleeping bag sagging to the side thanks to the several Inkbrushes sticking out the top. With a heavy sigh, Phish just shook his head and walked over towards the sleeping bag, Mai leaning on the tent behind it. She glanced over at the still snoozing Inkling squad-mates and hummed, arching an eyebrow at a few stained faces.

"Hey." She murmured suspiciously, arching an eyebrow. "Where'd you guys hop off to yesterday? I heard an explosion."

"Oh, we just murdered one of your kin." Phish thought to himself. "We splatted an octopus."

He then wanted to punch himself just then and there. Briefly, Phish wondered whether or not he could call it off as a bluff, but the disturbed stare on Mai's face pretty much set it in stone. He just screwed over the only friendly relationship with the enemy he had ever gotten the chance to have. Before he could say anything in an attempt to change her mind, the octopus just sighed, raising her hands in the air with a shake of her head.

"Yeah. That was going to happen regardless, I guess." She spoke in a nonchalant demeanor, though her pained expression betrayed her voice. "So, how'd it feel?"

"Whoa, what?" Phish blinked in shock. "No, I wasn't the one who did it! It was- Uh…"

He hesitated, taking in consideration the slumbering squids laying on the grass behind him. If relations grew sour with this Mai character, he might not be walking away with a full squadron of four. Worse came to worse, he could at least attempt to fend her off. He might be able to-

"Gruesome, huh?"

Once again, his train of thought was stopped short. "...What?"

Leaning on the side of the tent, the Octoling just crossed her arms and closed her eyes, taking in a breath in the brisk, morning air. "Not a fan of that, really. Sure, I'd beat someone up if they'd get too close for comfort, but…"

All of a sudden, it started to click. "You...don't like war?"

Mai laughed a single time before she shot him a smirk. "I'm not too fond of shooting people or being shot at, you know. I can't imagine anyone fighting to the death for fun. Sure, maybe like the occasional beatdown-"

Shaking his head at the mention of a 'beatdown', Phish just cocked an eyebrow at her curiously. "So then, why are you here?"

Fiddling with her Octoling Goggles dangled around her neck, Mai sighed. "Look, Phish, I'm not exactly sure who is in the wrong or the right here. But because of someone's dumb decision, now we all have to play a game we don't wanna play. You guys aren't the only one with a draft."

Phish stood across from her, flabbergasted. "How did you-"

"Mentioned something about it in your sleep." She pointed out.

"...You listened to me sleep?" He asked with a frown plastered on his face.

Mai smirked back, tousling her short tentacles. "It's easy for me when I have to listen to someone who speaks as loud as you."

"You know, I'm starting to regret the whole, 'spare you' thing." Phish muttered, adjusting his tie.

"You know you love me." She chuckled, leaning back on the tent. "Besides, I was the one with the gun."

Shaking his head, he just sat down on the grass, legs stretched out lazily. "Alright, you were saying something about a draft?"

"Hmm?" She muttered, flicking the bristles on an Inkbrush sticking out of the sleeping bag. "Oh, right. So, obviously not all of us are bloodthirsty. I mean, just look at me-"

A skeptical glance was shot in her direction. As she pursed her lips, Mai laid a hand by her side and continued, a smug grin fired back in response.

"Like I said, we're not all looking to splat people. A few of us are still pretty fond of Inklings, actually. I think a few used to be best buds." She smirked while staring at the bright blue sky above them.

A brief memory of the Octoling wearing her goggles properly back on the battlefield crossed Phish's mind, and he shuddered in remembrance. "Hard to imagine."

"Yeah, well, war does that to people. Screws them over, sets bad examples." Mai scowled, crossing her arms. "If I were in charge of this whole war thing, I'd just make it so that at the most, you can fistfight."

"I don't think I'd really enjoy sitting in the ring with you." Phish muttered, glancing at the sky alongside her. "Being punched doesn't seem like something I'd rather do than sit on grass."

She just smirked, petting the sleeping bag as if it were her own little furry companion. "I guess that's true. If we do get out of this alive, then maybe I can challenge you to a rematch."

"No." Phish answered simply.

That seemed to elicit a few giggles from the other cephalopod. Phish could not help but give a small smile. She was not exactly the most...sympathetic, but at least she was not plotting to tear him limb from limb. At least, he hoped.

As he sat there on the grass and continued to hope, out of the corner of his eye, he could notice someone stirring. Gulping, he noticed Ophi's wooden creature necklace jiggle slightly, whether it was due to the wind or the Inkling waking, he certainly did not want to test it. Glancing back at Mai, he could see alarm clear in her eyes.

"Hide!" He whispered frantically.

With a nod, Mai turned around towards the tent and shrunk into her violet octopus form, curly tentacles propelling her up into the air. She sunk into the comforts of Phish's sleeping bag, hiding herself inside instantly.

Phish started scowling as ink began dripping from the bristles of the rustled Inkbrushes. "Not what I had in mind, but you whatever. You'd better pray that it works."

"Morning, Phish." A sleepy female voice yawned from behind him.

Perking up somewhat, Phish spun around, greeted by a messily organized pair of long blue tentacles drooping down from the sides of a squid girl's head. Ophi looked disheveled, as if she had jumped straight into a hurricane. Subconsciously, Phish remembered that there was no mirror around, and wondered if he looked even worse.

"...Who were you talking to?" Ophi asked, adjusting her necklace so that the animal did not have to suffer staying on its back for the rest of the day.

Phish hesitated, taking a quick glance back. The Octoling was hidden, to be sure, but his knapsack was a disaster zone in itself. Grimacing, he repeated in his mind that he would never lend her that again to make sure he would never forget.

He turned back around, facing Ophi, and cleared his throat. "The sleeping bag."

Even as sleepy as she was, Ophi still cocked an eyebrow in obvious suspicion. "...You were having a private conversation...with your sleeping bag?"

Phish bit his lip. He was starting to sound like Portic. "...Yes."

Thank Cod for stupid excuses. Ophi just shrugged and shot him a smile. "Well, come on. You'll be late for breakfast if you keep chatting with your bag."

A tinge of worry crossed his hearts. "Breakfast?"

For a brief moment, Phish sniffed the air, expecting a bonfire. Had she heard more than he had thought? However, his nostrils picked up nothing but the scent of grass and outdoors. He gave Ophi a deadpan look.

The female Inkling just blushed and rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. "Well, if I had started, you know."

Rolling his eyes, Phish gave her a small nod of acknowledgement. The female Inkling walked over to the long inactive fire pit, smouldered with soot and ash, the wind brushing the bits of debris away. Nearby, a still snoozing Portic and Rinse rolled aimlessly in their knapsacks, possibly captivated by the hold of a dream or two.

Without hesitation, Ophi crouched down by the fire pit, taking hold of a fistful of grass. "Hope you like canned fish." She spoke up, glancing at Phish's sea-life adorned tie.

From behind her, she took out a small, flat, cylindrical can with cartoon-styled fish swimming around almost as aimlessly as the other squids did. Phish frowned, adjusting his tie almost bashfully.

"Better than nothing, I suppose." He muttered, sitting down by the pit as Ophi worked to set it alight.

Portic dreamed that he was flying. Floating around the clouds with nothing but his clothes and a big old smile, he drifted among the cloud layer without a care in the world. He flew over a budding city skyline, he flew over a generic river somewhere unimportant, he flew across a giant question mark, he flew across a random hooded dude, and he flew over some other references I could not be bothered to add. There was also an orange, heavy-set bird who would flap by and yell, "Tweet, tweet!" at the top of its lungs periodically.

He was having the time of his life.

"I'm having the time of his- Uh, I mean, my life!" Portic shouted in a cheer.

Then he was blasted out of the sky. A blue, thin bullet blasted straight through him, puncturing his lungs. He coughed, and suddenly, he began to fall straight towards the ground. He yelped, attempting to flap between fits of coughing. A glint on the ground below managed to catch his eye throughout the freefall. A Bamboozler was pointed at him, taking aim, expertly poised. Each shot that rang out met its mark, smacking Portic's limbs off as if they were wet clay attached to a weak mannequin. Finally, after his head was knocked off of his body, still screaming madly, mind you, his face began to gain acceleration as it sped up towards the ground below him.

"Ow! Jeez!" He yelled as he smacked into the floor unceremoniously.

Head still rolling, he was starting to get dizzy. It was one thing to completely detach his brain from his body, but it was another thing to not catch him as he fell. Shaking the daze off, he just stared up at the marksman who so rudely sniped him to pieces. His eyes still attached to his head grew wide.

Aiming down at him, finger on the trigger, was Rinse. A puff of smoke burst out of his nostrils as he spoke, "See you."

"Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuugh!" Portic screamed, hopping straight out of his sleeping bag.

Once he had left the comforts of his knapsack, he began to brandish it similarly to his Bamboozler, as if he were waiting for yet another pitch. However, the lack of any backbone to begin with in the sleeping bag just caused it to flop towards the ground. Nevertheless, he swung it around, spooked at the prospect of his friend sniping him in his sleep, with a shout each time he attempted to smack anything.

As soon as he edged close to the center of the camp, however, he was stopped with a familiar, "Whoa!"

Portic paused mid-swing, staring down at a pair of Inklings sitting around a bonfire, waiting for a fish suspended over a fire on a stick. Phish and Ophi sat cross-legged, the both of them leaning towards the fish, an empty can discarded by the fire.

"...Oh! Hi guys!" Portic grinned, a torrent of sweat dripping down his face.

Phish eyed the beads of sweat curiously. "...You sleep alright?"

Portic gulped, tossing his bag to the side away from the flames. "Oh, oh yeah! Had a great dream. A killer dream."

"Glad to hear it, Portic." A voice boomed behind him.

"Aah!" He yelped, immediately smacking the person behind him, eyes shut.

Eye cracking open slowly, he noticed that his hand had left quite the intimidating mark on an even more intimidating Inkling. Rinse blinked, puffing his right cheek out under where he had been slapped silly. Immediately, the torrent of sweat that was dripping from Portic's face began to shift into a waterfall. He smirked towards Rinse, rubbing his face nonchalantly.

Yawning quite a hefty yawn, he just took up a seat by the fire, the other two Inklings already seated glancing at each other worriedly. Their worries were just put to rest (though for Phish it just raised more questions) when he simply stretched his arms and said, "Thanks for helping waking me up, Portic."

Portic then froze in place, glaring at him with a nervous mien. "..."

Rinse frowned, eyebrow cocking up in interest. "What?"

"Nothing!" The lean Inkling shrugged, a smile reemerging on his face. "Just- Glad to be alive! I mean awake! Let's have some breakfast, shall we!"

Once he finished, he just sat down on the grass, beaming as politely as Inkling facial structure could manage. Rinse turned towards him, about to ask something. His immediate answer was Portic nonchalantly sliding away from him, folding his hands together tightly.

"...Portic?" Rinse spoke up, towards the other Inkling, embers hopping underneath the unfortunate fish being roasted on a spit.

Portic turned his head slowly and cautiously, as if he wanted to keep it firmly stuck where it belonged. "...Yes?"

"Are you sure you're fine? You look somewhat pale." He muttered, eyeing the nervous-looking Inkling.

"Uh...overexposure to moonbeams?" He suggested with a goofy smirk, contradictory to his uneasy posture.

Phish coughed in the background and muttered something under his breath. Rolling her eyes, Ophi just scolded him and smacked his shoulder with the back of her head and whispered, "Hush." much more clearly than Phish's speech.

Instead of the others' initial reactions, Rinse just shook his head. "No. Had any trouble sleeping last night?"

"I had a nightmare." He blurted out, though it seemed much more relaxed as it escaped from his mouth compared to how the rest of him felt.

Instead of smirks and glares, most of them just stared at him, interest piqued. He coughed, smirking in their stead, attempting to shrug as if it was no big deal.

Rinse leaned on the grass, still facing Portic. "What about?"

Portic pursed his lips. "Is there a rule against telling people your dreams or something?" But try as he might to keep it silent, he just blurted out once more. "I was shot?"

Rinse nodded in understanding, sitting back up straight. "Yeah, I suppose if you're in a war, that will plague your dreams for some time. Don't fret. I'll protect you."

The other Inkling felt as though he should nod. But considering that he was the one who technically shot him, that was probably not the best reassurance to use.

After the fish stopped cooking, it was divided into four pieces, one that each of them gobbled up in an instant. For something so small, it was surprisingly filling. Though, whether that was thanks to the fish or just their imaginative appetites. While they munched, Phish noticed that his sleeping bag was getting somewhat restless. It hopped up and down, the others hardly noticing the bizarre activity. While the others ate around him, he glanced down at the remaining slice that was left in his hands. With a sigh, he just tossed it off towards the bag, where chewing noises ensued.

Wiping her face clean of any remaining crumbs, Ophi sighed in content, clearing her throat slightly. "Hah…."

The sound of grass rustling followed. Blinking, Ophi found herself seated around a circle of Inklings who stared at her eagerly.

"...What?" She asked, arching an eyebrow.

"Yeah, what?" Portic repeated, "What's the plan, Stan?"

Ophi blinked again with pursed lips. "...What?"

"The plan." He reiterated, leaning forward. "I mean, you're like the leader at this point, you know that?"

All eyes were set on Ophi, and each head that carried said eyes nodded in response, a unanimous agreement passed in the form of murmurs. An uneasiness grew in her chest as she looked from each face. It was as if the awkwardness that Portic carried moments prior had been transferred directly to her. Quite frankly, she did not like it in the slightest.

Then again, this could very well be her chance to shine. After all, the Portic and Rinse duo had done nothing but ignore her warnings. Clearing her throat, she stood up straight, each of the Inklings (and eavesdropping octopus) devoting their eyes and ears to her for lack of anything better to do.

"Alright, so, the second day in a war, and we've all survived." She sighed, managing a short smile. "How are you feeling?"

She was met with rather distressed and uneasy looks.

"Right." She murmured, tapping on her necklace nervously. "Well, we've survived, and that's the good part. The bad part is that there is probably a bunch of octopuses headed for us, if your guys' shirts are any indication."

Glancing down at his brown overalls, Portic rubbed the violet ink stuck to him with his thumb, scowling. "They attacked us first."

"They did," Rinse spoke up with a harsher tone, "We were just defending ourselves."

Ophi raised her hands and shook them rapidly. "No no, I'm not saying you DID anything, I'm just saying we're going to have to prepare or something. There's probably like a hundred Octarians headed towards us. One of the last defense for Inkopolis. Four teenagers."

Thus, the silence reentered the atmosphere, blanketing the group in a shroud of awkwardness, grass, and clouds.

"...You're doing a bang-up job of cheering us up, Ophi." Phish muttered, shaking his head.

Ophi frowned back at him. "It's not my fault no one else wanted to stay and help defend! We need more Inklings to back us up."

Rinse nodded in agreement and stood up, the wind blowing past his tied up tentacles. "Right. I don't believe that we can be the only defensive squad out there."

"Yeah!" Portic joined in, hopping up. "When Rinse and I were volunteering, we saw huge crowds! There was this one guy with like a crew cut or something, then there was this one guy with white tentacles and an Inkbrush, he was like some sort of master with it-"

"Okay, so then I think we're all set on what we need to do." Ophi cut in, much to Portic's disappointment. "We need to find more troops and fast."

She looked out at the other Inklings. Three nods responded back slowly but surely, each and everyone of them standing up. Portic beamed at her, giving her a thumbs-up, Rinse went off to find his weapon, and Phish gave her a reluctant nod. The single female Inkling in the squadron smiled. It seemed as though they were finally set on a game plan.

At least, until Portic shouted, "Whoa!"

The lean Inkling started gazing in awe across the hills. The rest of the Inklings whirled around, following his line of sight across the knolls. Their mouths gaped open. Limping across the hills was a young woman, her tentacles drooping down, swinging about without much enthusiasm to them. Beaten down and bruised, she walked across the land, staring at the ground, a helmet held close to her side. She was covered in a variety of ink, from the friendly blue to the dangerous violet. Her gaze eventually shifted from the ground, up to the camp, where her eyes, wrapped in the trademark Inkling black mask, grew wide, whether from shock, amazement, or relief was unsure.

"...Commander?" Ophi whispered, watching her limp.

Upon noticing the other Inkling's lips move, the commanding Inkling officer smiled. Then, she fell, face first, onto the ground, unmoving. They just stared at her for a minute, a newfound discomfort churning through their veins.

"...Well." Phish muttered despondently. "Looks like we'll have to make do."

AN: Apologies for the delay, yes, a rather hectic schedule as usual. I wish all I had to worry about, work-wise were these stories so that I could dedicate more time to pouring my attention in them. Oh well, life's life I suppose.

Life aside, let's take a look at some reviews. Thanks Deku Scrublord and CastilloBlanca for reviewing!

I guess I can't blame you, Deku Scrublord. I can't say Mai is exactly the most agreeable of archetypes for everyone. But I appreciate you taking an interest in my story!

Thanks for your detailed synopsis, CastilloBlanca. I'm really glad that I could capture something unique in my story. If I'm not referencing something, then I try my best to make things at least somewhat unique. So thank you for noticing all the little characters and the story.

Thanks for reading, this is ThePizzaLovingTurtle, see you.