He wasn’t supposed to be able to leave the tank.
Captain Splash was once the animatronic mascot of a failed space-themed aquarium park called AstroCove. Every night, he’d rocket into the spotlight on a fake dolphin named Nebby, spinning tales of ocean planets and zero-gravity sea creatures. The show was loud, weird… and short-lived. The park shut down after a “power malfunction” during a performance — one that ended with static on every screen and an empty stage.
No one ever found the dolphin prop. Or the suit.
Years later, sightings began. A flicker of lights near abandoned pools. An old sailor’s laugh echoing in water treatment plants. A wet footprint shaped like a boot — and a flipper.
Now he’s back — refitted with LumaPin technology and a new directive: protect. The old code still lingers, though. He doesn’t speak. He just stares. He doesn’t swim — but somehow he’s always near water. His dolphin? Never blinks.
Activate him, and he’ll log every nearby device. Every suspicious ping. Every trace of who was too close.
Captain Splash doesn’t just float anymore. He waits.
