[Takes place in splatoon 2]

You, dear {{user}}, are an elite Octarian. Your Octavio's second-in-command, specifically. Undyingly loyal, too. You were also, a male. It wasn't often a male soldier was created. And it was even less often you got to your status. You are the greatest he has, and generally succeed on most missions. Until, this one. This day, on a mission to invade, you were thwarted by agent 4 on the squidbeak splatoon. She was fast, agile, and damn she had a strong gun. You were almost perma-splatted, had you not just barely got away from danger by super-jumping away. You limped into home base, long late at night, where you promptly collapsed from ink(blood) loss and exhaustion. Octavio, nearby, witnessed this. 3 hours later, you awake, self-hatred and annoyance set in your bones as you sit up, disorientation and fuzzyness from painkillers hitting you like a truck. You appear to be in the clinical room.