Splatoon: The Drafted Squid

The Roadblock

It was a mildly day with plenty of clouds in the sky with a fresh, cool, comforting breeze whistling among the sweet droplets of water sitting on the many blades of grass below. Ophi was sweating frantically.

Of course she had to be given the greatest responsibility. She of all people. Probably one of the only Inklings left alive. Given the title of commander. She had not even shot anyone yet. All throughout the rest of the day, she tried to convince herself that Sumera was just delusional.

Sumera. She knew the commander's name after just a few days.

Ophi shook her head. "She just needs rest," She reassured herself for what felt like the hundredth time.

She glanced towards the tent. Portic was already set on folding it back until a flat, compact package, unhooking the stakes from the ground quickly. As the tent began to collapse, Rinse emerged from the inside, with their commander slung over his back.

If it were any other situation, Ophi might have stood in terror as a shifty, lean Inkling sabotaged their tent while a larger, burlier one carried the woman to their doom. The thought might have been comical, had it not been for the fact that this was her squadron.

Portic was thin, but the way he hopped from place to place like he so often made her wonder if he hid a stack of candies under his sleeping bag. She wondered whether or not he was willing to share. Then there was Rinse. It was not hard to believe that he would volunteer for a war of this magnitude. He was not exactly a heavy-set guy, but he just radiated...anger? Terror? Something like that. Plus, the way he carried the commander over his shoulder was also unnerved Ophi.

"Hey." Speak of the devil, Rinse spoke up right next to her, thoroughly startling Ophi who spun around to meet him with a smile plastered on her face.

"Yes?" Ophi squeaked much more timid than she would have hoped.

Sumera murmured something as she laid across his shoulder. He stretched his left arm somewhat and the commander's lips curled into a smile.

Across from them, as he folded up the flaps of the tent, Portic shouted, "I think she likes you, Rinse!"

He turned around and glared straight at the scrawnier Inkling. Portic paused and stared at him with a hint of worry. His worries melted when he noticed a very small smirk on the side of Rinse's face.

"Ah." Portic grinned with a nod as he returned to his duties. "Let me know when the wedding starts."

Rinse rolled his eyes and pivoted back towards Ophi. She looked akin to a deer in the headlights as he stared at her. "We're heading out soon."

Ophi blinked and shook her head. "Right, right."

Almost as if he could read her mind, Rinse gave her a smile, albeit much smaller than his amused smile. That worried her. "You'll be fine."

She bit her lip. As Rinse walked off towards the extinguished campfire and sat down by the ashes, Ophi hummed and searched around for something to do. She took note of the sleeping bags strewn about the ground. With a glance, she watched as Portic, now finished with his work, the tent now folded up into a small flat package, picked up the tent and walked off to join his buddy.

That left Ophi to herself. She stooped down and picked up her own raggedy sleeping bag that laid in the grass. She paused, then glanced at the other's knapsacks, then back to the other two Inklings. Rinse had laid their real commander down on the ground between him and Portic. The two conscious Inklings chatted amongst themselves, though Portic still looked somewhat shaken.

Ophi pursed her lips and glared down at the rest of the bags. "Alright."

She walked over to the pair of ruffled sleeping bags behind both Rinse and Portic. She crouched down and reached towards them both while she attempted to carry her own. Through a miniature struggle, she ended up with a stack of three sleeping bags stacked as neatly as she possibly could manage. It leaned over her head shakily.

Now with three sleeping bags in her grasp, she turned her attention towards the last one sat upright with an Inkbrush that stuck out, the ink dried and faded. She scowled and shook her head at the mess. As she walked over towards the sleeping bag, she briefly wondered how she would manage to incorporate it into her budding tower of comforts.

"No, wait!" Phish called out.

Ophi blinked and spun around slowly, a cautious eye on her sleeping bag pillar. Phish rushed over, his tie dangled around in the wind as he ran. He stopped down right next to his bag and lifted it himself, although he appeared to have some difficulty doing so. Ophi just stared at him in confusion.

He checked the insides of the bag, then breathed a sigh of relief, though the exasperated expression he wore was hardly glad to have his bag at all. Ophi continued to stare at him until he shot her an incredulous glare. "...What?"

"...Nothing." She murmured and walked off with a smirk. "I don't want to interrupt you."

Phish blushed and attempted to hide his face behind the messy knapsack. "I don't think you need to do that. We can all carry our own."

"Yeah, but, you know." Ophi shrugged to herself as she balanced the sleeping bags. "It sort of helps keeping everything in one place."

Phish sighed and carried the bag off with him towards the other two Inklings that sat in front of the ashes of the campfire. Ophi huffed and would have probably crossed her arms if her hands were not already full. She followed behind and the both of them eventually sat next to the other Inklings in the squadron. Rinse inspected his Bamboozler carefully while Portic kicked his legs up at the air aimlessly. Sumera just laid on the ground unconscious.

"...and that's basically my opinion on clouds." Portic finished neatly as he played with his Bamboozler.

Rinse scoffed as he finished. "Whatever floats your boat."

He grinned in response. "It totally does."

Portic laughed, though the way he shivered made Ophi wonder if he needed a jacket. It was not exactly the epitome of chilly out here. Though she supposed that if he irritated Rinse, there would be a good reason to shiver. Phish walked over towards the two and sat down next to Portic and laid his sleeping bag upright in front of him by the debris left by the flames. Finally, Ophi swallowed and jogged over with the stack of knapsacks. She positioned herself by Phish's side and caught him in the middle of rolling his eyes as she moved past him. In response, she gave him a light tap with her boot on his back which prompted Phish to check the back of his shirt; he rubbed the back as if it were stained with a grimace.

As she promptly fell on the grass next to the Inkling that fidgeted with his tie, Portic gazed at the makeshift tower she had and whistled. "Wow! For me?"

She rolled her eyes in response. "No, Portic. This is just to help keep everything in one place."

"I think it would've been easier if we all carried our own, honestly." Portic shrugged and laid back on the grass comfortably; the Inkling nestled his head into the plumes of green behind him and worked up a Portic-shaped groove.

Rinse nodded as he checked the barrel of the bamboo weapon. "Yeah. We could have carried them on our backs."

She bit her lip. Ophi stared at the ground in embarrassment. "Oh."

"...Er, I'm fine with that." Phish spoke up next to her.

Portic blinked and his head rose from the grass. "Hm?"

Phish gave the other two a look. The lean Inkling laid out in the grass perked up then tapped Rinse on the shoulder. He arched an eyebrow at him and through a brief though, Portic eyed the weapon he cleaned as if it would blast him afterwards.

Instead, Rinse just coughed and muttered, "Nevermind."

"Yeah, yeah, it's a pretty good idea." Portic grinned, "Why didn't I think of that? Genius idea."

Ophi perked up and glanced at Portic oddly. Just then, she noticed Phish turn away. A smirk crossed her face as Phish acquired a newfound interest in the dust and debris of the fire.

Across from them, Rinse cleared his throat. "...So...the western front?"

Sumera shuffled among the ground in her sleep somewhat uncomfortably as if she were tuned in via dream. Ophi cleared her throat. "Yeah...any ideas where it is?"

She looked among the group of Inklings, most of which just stared at each other cluelessly.

"...West?" Phish muttered under his breath.

A smile curled upon Sumera's face. Great, even their unconscious commander was getting a hoot out of this.

Before Ophi could respond, Rinse raised his hand. Motionless on his palm, he carried a flat, circular compass with two arrows that pointed north and south shakily.

Ophi blinked, rubbed her eyes, then stared in awe. "Rinse, where did you get that?"

He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, then stared down at Sumera, who still napped on the ground next to them. "...Her pockets."

"Oh." Ophi murmured with a cautionary glance toward Sumera. If she could hear them through her sleep, she did not want to take chances. "Well, that's great! Assuming that the western front is just west of here, if we start now, I think we'll get there quickly enough!"

Phish frowned and glared at the ground. "We still don't know where the front is exactly. It could be close to Inkopolis-" He stared at the buildings being slowly constructed in the background wearily. "Or they could be farther ahead."

She simply shrugged in response. "If we do get lost out there, it won't matter much, will it? We'll still be camping somewhere. The important thing is finding the others."

"She's right." Rinse chimed in while he holstered his Bamboozler at his side of his shorts. "...Nothing's going to stop them from coming except for us."

"And preferably a whole bunch of other Inklings." Portic added as he stepped by Rinse's side.

Phish stopped and stared down at his legs crossed over each other as he sat. He closed his eyes for a bit and murmured wordlessly. After a few seconds, he shook his head with a sigh and got to his feet and kicked a few of the ashes of the fire away.

"I really hate these plans." He muttered, then stopped to adjust his tie fruitlessly.

Ophi smiled, then crouched down and hefted the sleeping bags in front of her. "Then it's settled. Let's head west!"

The only one who cheered was Portic. He took his Bamboozler and ran off with it and practiced swings at the ground. Rinse shook his head, stood up, and followed Portic, presumably to tell him he sprinted north by mistake. As Ophi lifted herself and three Inklings' worth of portable bedding, she noticed Phish peer into his own snooze sack, a miffed expression plastered on his face as he peeked inside.

"Hey," She attempted to wave, which was hard all if the plush comforts were to be considered. "You know, I can still carry that one if you need help."

Phish attempted to say something but fumbled somewhat uncertainly with his comforter. "Uh, I don't think that's the best idea."

Ophi frowned on the other side of her miniature tower. "Weren't you the same guy who said that THIS was fine?"

"Hey, I didn't say anything." Phish shrugged while he kept a careful eye on his own knapsack. "It's just that...er...I'm carrying at least half of our armoury in here."

She noticed the Inkbrush that jutted out of the top of the bag, the green ink left overnight dried. Perhaps she should not ask. "I guess that's...convenient?"

"Yep." Phish muttered as he hefted the bedroll.

Ophi was not sure why he was going to the trouble of carrying their weapons and she wanted to point out that there were only five of them, but something in his unnerved irises that glanced into the bag occasionally prompted her to simply ignore it. The both of them followed after Rinse and Portic up ahead as they charged towards the west, the duo ahead rushed without a second thought and kicked up grass as they sprinted.

Along the way, Phish wiped a bead of sweat off his head and sighed. "That was close."

"I'll say." Mai's voice called out from his sagged bedroll. "You almost screwed the pooch. Namely me."

"The shell's a pooch?" Phish asked his sleeping bag with a frown.

The six of them saw nothing but a bright brilliant blue and a healthy green canvas for about an hour and a half since they had packed up and left. Rinse looked more like a pack mule than anything (if they knew what pack mules had looked like) as he carried practically everything else aside from their sleeping bags. The tent, several weapons, and their downed commander stretched across his shoulders. Several of the weapons bounced up and down as he walked as well as Sumera's dual tendrils that draped down from her head onto the grass. Phish hoped that she did not mind grass stains.

Portic marched alongside him merrily in contrast with a fine tune whistled on his lips. Instead of any swing of the sort, now the lanky Inkling tossed and spun his Bamboozler as if it were a baton in a parade and Rinse were some kind of chaotic float. Phish turned around and noticed Ophi as she trailed behind the lot of them. She carried everyone's bedrolls dutifully, which Phish barely managed to suppress a smile to.

Then again, she is not in charge of carrying an Octoling stowaway and multiple, heavy weapons.

Speak of the devil, Mai spoke up, "It's a good thing your excuses don't entirely suck."

Phish furrowed his brow and stared down. "I didn't have a lot of choices! What if Ophi saw you?"

"I'd take chances if it meant landing me on top of that pile over there." She pointed out in a muffled voice.

From behind them, Ophi took a brief moment to attempt to wave again. Though somewhat wobbly, she held on to the the pillar of pillow substitutes with her left hand as she greeted Phish with her right, then quickly held on with both. As the tower righted itself just in time, she sighed to herself then continued on.

Phish sneered at the bedroll. "Then I hope you like falling."

Mai laughed, reached out, and tapped Phish on the nose again much to his annoyance. "Sure! Maybe I'll call you out for being my partner in crime."

"Why do I always lose in these scenarios?" Phish muttered and shook his head.

While he conversed with the Octoling, he neglected to notice the wall that seemed to come out of nowhere. He bumped into the alloy the wall was constructed of then backed up and groaned.

"What the-?" Phish muttered as he rubbed his forehead.

"...That's a big wall." Portic muttered next to him.

As Phish looked up, he could not help but agree. He did not quite enjoy smashing his head into the metal, but the wall standing tall is impressive. Separated patches of metal, some black, others gray, assembled in a patchwork fashion made up the wall. It was tall enough to obstruct their vision ahead of them, but they could see a few hills in the distance.

Which made Phish wonder, "How did we not see this?"

Rinse's eyes narrowed. As if personally offended by the very existence of this obstruction, he started to kick the wall until his whaling created a dent while everything on his back shook from his movements.

"Whoa, whoa!" Portic chided and raised his hands.

He spun around and glared at the rest of them. Immediately, both Portic and Ophi backed away. The glare he gave them was definitely not as friendly as they had hoped. So unfriendly in fact, that Ophi accidentally dropped the stack of sleeping bags, the bedrolls unfurling messily onto the ground.

"Aw." She frowned and crouched down.

As she began the clearly momentous task of placing bedrolls on top of each other in a neat pile, Phish glanced over at the sides of the wall, his tentacles swiveling as he turned. "Yeesh. Are we really supposed to walk around this?"

"Welp," Portic grinned merrily, "Looks like we'd better get started! See you on the other side, guys!"

Before he stepped away, the group could hear a shrill scream. Portic's foot dropped back down on the grass slowly.

"Ophi, dear, I know it would be a crying shame if I left, but someone's gonna have to get around this first." Portic spoke with a smirk.

Ophi rolled her eyes as she lifted the collection of bedrolls up, the ends drooping off of the sides of her arms. "That wasn't me."

He crossed his arms. "Well, I'm pretty sure that Rinse doesn't have such a high voice. Unless…"

Portic slowly pivoted towards Phish, who still held onto his sleeping bag and Inkbrush that leaked on it. The impish sneer that started to grow on his face also started to bother Phish. His tie brushed past in the wind and he raised his bedroll as if to throw it at him. That was when the piece of metal smacked into the back of his head.

"Aaugh!" Phish yelped and immediately dropped the bag to rub his head.

Luckily, no one seemed to notice the fact that the sleeping bag attempted to punch him. Instead they all stared up at the top of the humongous barricade. Rinse grimaced as they noticed the Octotrooper at the top.

She held another shard of metal in her tentacle-like head albeit shakily. Large yellow eyes with green irises shivered and jittered in their sockets as she stared at them all. As Rinse raised his Bamboozler from his side, he gritted his teeth and prepared to shoot. All of a sudden, she squeaked and ran off, but not before she dropped the scrap of metal down next to them. It embedded itself and left a sizable mark. Phish was glad that it was not like that the first time.

"I think she's willing to let us in." Portic suggested hopefully.

The large wall shifted slightly. A set of metallic pieces creaked, sparks flew out as they adjusted themselves. As if they were a set of doors opened to greet a monarch, the metal split apart and revealed three large openings in the wall. The rest of the landscape was no longer obscured through the three of them and it revealed, surprise, more sky and grass. A new addition was added, however.

Several robots.

Gray, metallic objects that closely resembled Octotroopers stumbled out slowly on platforms just like the vehicles the real ones used. Smoke erupted from the top of their tentacles. For a moment, no one moved. Not until the droids settled their mechanical sights on them, at least. Each mechanical Octotrooper oozed violet ink and glared at the group with glowing red eyes. Now, the five conscious members (four considering Mai was squirming back into the recesses of Phish's bedroll) might have regarded them as amazing works of technology. If they were not gazing at them with intent to kill.

"...Nice welcome." Portic commented.

As if the entire armada of robotic soldiers were listening, they all took his comment as a personal offense and began charging towards him, the platforms revealing several turret guns on the front while shuffling forward.

AN: Apologies for the delay. I haven't been feeling up to writing for whatever reason.

Thanks for reading, this is ThePizzaLovingTurtle, see you.