Chapter Text
A tragedy above the ground
A vanquished foe from underground
Will a happy ending be found?
Even in the silence, there is a beat.
Even in the chaos, there is a pattern
Even in the darkness, there is a light.
Not that she would know… or care.
There's not much left for her to care about, after all. Not much left of… her. But that's okay. She's okay. She's fine here, with her music. That's about the only thing she had left anymore. Not that it mattered. Not that she’d care. It may be boring, but she’d never know. The void was all she’d really needed, all she’d really known. Everything before that was… well, an inky mess.
So, she’d keep mixing. She’d continue her unending task. She’d remain unaware of what could be…
...that is, until, what would be would come barreling in.
He continued to rap away at the desk.
His Octoling Shades had been discarded on his cot, humming their dull, monotone beats. He didn’t know when he grew discontent with the sound… he didn’t care. What he did know was that the beats on those glasses were absolute GARBAGE, worse than rusted scrap. He could do better.
...or he would be doing better, if he knew anything about music.
It was embarrassing, and frustrating. He was a goldfish when it came to stuff like this. Weeks and weeks of practice within the confines of his soundproof bunker, and only NOW was he finally figuring out how to layout a basic beat on his repaired sound machine. Sweet cod above it was exhausting, but it was all worth i-
* knock knock knock * OH FOR COD’S SAKE!
“Ikimono!” a loud voice rang from the other side, “Your shift starts in 5 minutes! Get your scrawny ass out here!!” Frick, it was her again. Without wasting a second, he quickly pushed a button underneath his desk, causing several panels to shift as his sound machine was carefully hidden. He dove for his Octoling Shades, ignoring the return of the familiar throbbing headache as he slapped them on his face. At this point, he should have carefully, respectfully opened the door, saluted his superior, and quickly made his way out to his post.
...but he didn’t want to be late for his shift, and Commander Mokaiso was. The WORST .
He’d probably get splatted for it later and go through the painful process of revival (stupid Inkopolis with its perfected respawn tech and energy…), but he opted to boot open the door and Super Jump in rapid succession to the tower post. If he was lucky (he rarely was) he could beg for forgiveness and yet again humiliate himself in front of the rest of the squadron.
What else was the Bottom Feeder of Pincer Creek supposed to do?
Agent 8 was… worried.
She really didn’t have a reason to be. She was free. Inkopolis was wonderful. Her fellow Octolings were slowly making their way back up to the surface, having been freed themselves. It was all so incredible, almost too good to be true, so why…?
“Octavia? You good?”
She nearly jumped at the sound of her name (well, new name, she couldn’t remember her old one) being called. After letting out a shrill squeak and promptly turning a shade of pink, Octavio looked to her side. There stood Agent 3 (real name Beatrice… she preferred Three), arms crossed, leaning against Cuttlefish Cabin, her cape hanging still. Agent 4 (real name Quartia, funnily enough) was out doing some last minute reconnaissance with Agents 1 and 2, which left the two of them alone in their devices.
“I’m fine, Three,” Octavia tried, not looking her in the eyes, “It’s just… I’ve been thinking.”
Beatrice quirked up an eyebrow, a rare look of expression upon her face. She pushed herself off the wall of the cabin, walking over to Octavia and sitting beside her. “Thinking?” she repeated, her voice even, but tinted with a hint of curiosity.
Octavio nodded hesitantly. “Y-yeah… it’s- it’s nothing, really.”
Beatrice shook her head. “It’s not nothing, Octavia. You don’t have to be ashamed of it.”
“W-well, I…”
“Take your time,” Beatrice assured her, “You don’t have to go faster than you want to.”
Octavia inhaled, letting her nerves settle. After a brief silence, she began to speak.
“I… I’m worried about the Octarians. Left in the Octarian Domain, I mean.”
Castaway lost in foreign land...
...runaway trying to find ground…
...is what was lost left to be found?