The War of the Worlds - By Bridgette (A Splatoon Story of Martian Invasion)

Chapter 8-The Return of The Soldier

Chapter 8—The Return of The Soldier

I persisted through the cold, hellish environment of the apocalyptic world that is the red weed as I trampled over debris, branches of red weed, and occasionally abandoned belongings and even mutilated corpses of fallen victims to the invaders. I was weary from the event that had occurred just moments ago. Those who belonged in the same species as I were about to cannibalize me, and in a surprising turn, the invaders—those who caused all the suffering for all of us—accidentally saved me from my own.

I look up and see a squad of Martian flying machines zooming by, possibly a scout group meant to search for refugee hubs to extract. But then it hit me; it finally got into my mind. The era of Marinekind is now over, and a new era has dawned over us—the era of Martian domination. My kind is no longer a master of this world and is now reduced to merely being a puppet for the invaders. To be farmed and feasted on for them, disregarding our own lives, interests, and dignity.

As stated before, the Martians are intelligent yet simple-minded, with every kind of suffering eliminated from their home world, diseases extinct, bacteria's gone, and even mental differences. Their society restricts individual thoughts, feelings, and desires to only one thought that could be compared to that of an ordinary intellectual. They don't desire sexual relations with one another or any kind of sexual attraction that might come between two consenting adults. To them, it only exists to fill up vacant spaces in their organized society.

These Martians—an organized society with no free will and nimble fleshy bodies—managed to crush our marine spirit and subject us to slavery for their colonial future.

I continued staggering along, hoping to find anywhere to stay for the night, with my tiredness slowly getting onto me as I began to daydream about my moments in life. But then, I was suddenly slapped out of it when an inkling voice called out to me, saying, "Halt, who goes there!?"

Instantly, I knew his voice; it was the soldier from the pit, still standing despite all the odds around him. I soon responded to him weakly due to my low energy, "I know you."

"Hey, it's you. Your that purple octoling from Inkopolis. Have you found where you're going?" He said this as he approached me.

"No," I said, disappointingly, "I need a place to stay for the night."

"Well, you're lucky, lady, cuz I just got the place for you. Follow me; I'll show you where it's at."

Again, together, I followed the soldier, relieved to have someone I knew to help me after such an awful day. Eventually, we arrived at an abandoned, large white home situated near a large road filled with abandoned vehicles of all shapes and sizes. They're lights inside the house. I stopped for a moment and questioned him about it, and he quickly reassured me that it was just "friends like him" camping inside.

"They are cooking dinner, lady. I bet your mind is tingling from those words."

He was right; my mind was indeed feeling a great sensation with just the word dinner. We entered the crepit home, and there I met three other men of different shapes and sizes. They may be different in side and species, but one thing in common is their appearance: a ripped and dirty, infested military uniform.

"What have you got here, boy?" Said a shellfish soldier as he got up after sitting down to heat up marshmellows.

"Why did you bring a girl?" Added one of his friends.

"Chill out, gentlemen. I knew her. Remember that sort I told you some hours ago?"

The friends looked at the solider and each other, dumbfounded, until they hauled in memory.

"OoOoh, that story."

"Lady, say hello to Jerry, Billy, and Terry. Sit anywhere you want." He then turned to look at his buddies and said, "Can I fetch a nice bowl of soup for her?"

Reliefed, I sat on a small wooden chair and was immediately gifted a blanket by one of the soldiers friends. I thanked him quietly, and I leaned closer to the campfire. There, I talked to them about my experiences, even giving my own perspectives about the future, and that was enough to get them ranting about their own plans toward me.

"Lady, do you really think it's all over? Take a look around you; be happy that you found a place to stay."

"But this war..." I uttered.

"There was never a war between snails and apex players. We are the snails, and they are the apex players."

"So you agree with me?"

"No, not really. It's not over yet. That's why I thought of a plan, lady." He then pointed towards the open window projecting onto the outskirts. "It's the rebirth of our new world, where we are pests to them; they will attempt to kill us systematically, so that's where we thought of a plan. We will build an underground world, hiding from the Martians. That's how we will fight back. Guerrilla warfare style."

"We will construct a new society down there."

"Where we will teach the new generations, place traps, even one day, obtain their advanced knowledge, and even take control of their tripods, where we will reverse engineer them to reclaim our world. Our marine spirit will keep us alive!"

The friend group celebrated the soldiers plan. I thought it was ambitious and amusing, yet I doubt it could ever happen as it was a wild dream. I pretended to laugh along when they made eye contact with me. Right after, one of the soldier friends gave me a bowl of warm soup, which I would drink right on the spot as my desire for hunger was great. Their conversation regarding the new world continued as they drew on their plans and their position in the reconstructed society. They even suggested I be some kind of secretary, to which I played along. The moment I get my needed rest and food, I'll be abandoning my old partner so I can continue my search for my friend.

In an hour, after drinking a mass amount of soup, the campfire was put out with a small bucket of water infested with small branches of red weed, and the lights were off. We all said goodnight, and soon I went off to sleep on a ragged mattress.

The next day came, and I was woken up by the sounds of digging underneath me. I got up, put on my boots, and investigated to find the whole friend group—with shovels on their hands—digging a large hole in the walls of the basement of the building. I took a good look at their progress; I could have dug that hole in much of a day without needing any help from others. It was pitch black and appeared to have no exact end to it.

It finally took several seconds for the male group to notice me, stopping their shoveling and greeting me "good morning."

"This shoveling can get a survivor tired, alright," said a soldier, believing to be Jerry.

"You know what, guys? Let's rest for a bit and play that bored game I found upstairs. Who's with me?"

"Flop yeah!"

They dropped their shovels and suggested that I join them. Confused yet curious, I accepted their request, and I was off walking up stairs to enter an abandoned bedroom, where they would grab the bored game underneath the bed and set it up. It was called Skip-Em!, where the main goal of the game was to reach the end of the game by rolling dice, and if the player lands on a black question and answers it correctly, they can skip the number of blocks stated on the card. A simple yet engaging game.

We spent minutes upon minutes playing the game, with myself answering most of the questions and even beating them. I was proud of my own small achievement in a world falling on itself and having a bad future for my kind. I felt a sense of betrayal to myself and my kind for continuing to stay long enough with a bunch of dreamers.

So when the game is over, I will abandon them when the chance arrives. An hour has passed since the game ended, and the group assigned me to search for supplies to continue their futile effort. I went out and grabbed anything I could take and finally left them, once again on my own in the hellish daylight of the wasteland infested with red weed, with some suspiciously starting to turn gray as if they were dying out. I didn't take much, as if it were just a small portion of the vast, thriving environment of the invasive plants.