The Suckling

EX1 - Agent 3 Dossier: Temper

"Captain's log.

Wait, no. That makes me sound old.

Blech! That may be fine for Craig but I don't roll that way.

Let's try this again with a fresher take.

Ahem!

Captain Kuki of the New Squidbeak Splatoon here.

This is a personal report- Personnel? Personnel.

Yeah, that's the word.

This is a personnel report about the newest member of our team, Tres, AKA Agent 3, AKA Neo-3, AKA Mr. Relic Hunter. (Addendum: AKA Shiver's new boy toy.)

While Tres has yet to divulge many personnel- Personal!

Personal details about himself to me, something he is well within his right to keep private, I've managed to glean a few things about his personality through my amazing observational skill during our time working together in the Alternan depths.

At a glance Tres is a friendly Splatlandian Inkling, well mannered and competent if a bit dim in certain areas. He's someone who's taken charge of his own destiny as evident by his humble enterprise and surprising choice of company, success as an agent notwithstanding.

As much as I've grown to like the guy and am grateful for all he's done and continues to do for us I can't just sit here and sing his praises.

I would like to continue this report by addressing some of his more egregious negatives, namely his contempt for authority figures, callous disregard for protocol and questionable eagerness to act on aggressive impulses, all things Marina has hypothesized are a part of his Splatlandian origins.

His overall attitude as an agent, even if it has admittedly gotten better recently, has been a consistent source of friction for the team ever since Craig brought him on.

However, it is important to note the aforementioned friction are thankfully infrequent enough or spaced out at odd intervals that I can look past them and that our interactions throughout the past several months have been nothing but respectful and supportive on both ends.

That isn't to say when his less flattering traits do flare up they don't cause trouble for the rest of the splatoon.

I'm reminded of a particular incident some time ago about a petty argument between friends that rapidly devolved into a harrowing situation involving a soda bottle..."

Quattro hummed to himself as he stepped into the kitchen of the mansion, a particularly smug grin worn on his face after having bested Pearl, little miss self proclaimed tableturf master, at the game using a deck composed almost exclusively of trash cards. The sight of her reddened face upon defeat and the shrieking demands for a rematch that came after was worth the pain of nearly having his eardrums ruptured.

Satisfied with his victory he decided to fix himself up a mighty tuna sandwich as a way to celebrate, practically skipping his way over to the refrigerator before he started methodically rummaging through its contents to gather the ingredients needed. The fridge was packed with just about everything he could want, including several rare and expensive local delicacies Pearl wanted to try, because of course she did. It was honestly overwhelming at times.

"Come on, where are you? You can't have a sandwich without mayonnaise, it'll be all dry," Quattro muttered beneath his breath.

It was then as his fingers barely graced the lid of the mayonnaise jar that a muffled noise caught his attention. It sounded like a muffled high pitched cry, though in all likelihood it could've been anything really; the squeak of an unlubricated hinge, a chair scraping along the floor. But the sound continued anyway