Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“And that’s about all the time we have! Until next time...”

“Don’t get cooked!”

“Stay Off The Hook!”

“Cut!” Marina sighed, sliding out of her chair to turn off her equipment. Another announcement of stage rotations, another Grizzco ad, and the end of another day. It was around 8PM, and clear that only a select few serious battlers were still in the square. Pearl let out a loud groan as she sunk deeper into her chair, her pink tentacles drifting upwards.

“Sheesh! What a day. Yo Marina, up for anything, or are we just heading home?” Pearl’s slouch had reached uncomfortable levels, as if at any moment her chair could collapse. Marina snickered, but continued closing up.

“Not really. I might stop by Eight’s place to check up on her, she probably could use some company… But… No, I don't think so. I am super tired.” It had been awhile since Agent Eight had managed to settle in to an apartment of her own, in the same building as Agent Three, but Marina feared that living by herself still might be too much. As much as she wanted to stop worrying, to tell herself that Eight was a hardened soldier and could handle herself, she couldn’t help but feel a tinge of motherly attachment to the poor Octoling. A tap on her shoulder roused her from her work, looking up at Pearl's chin as she looked outside.

“Oh Marina, the local Octo Squad is here for autograaaaphs.” Pearl said, in what was quite possibly the sweetest, sing-songiest voice Marina had ever heard out of the living sub-woofer that was Pearl. Marina looked over the table, towards the large window looking out into the square, and sure enough, a trio of Octolings were staring into the room, all smiling and holding up signs of encouragement, in that large, messy scrawl Marina had seen all too often.

“Heheh, alright. Pearlie, please finish up the mixer for me while I handle them. DON’T touch any buttons, alright?”

“It was one time, dude!”

“Pearl.”

“I know, I know, go say hi to the nice Octolings.” Marina sighed, and made her way to the door, hearing the squeals and laughter behind what was meant to be soundproof glass. Leaving the studio through a side door, she took a moment to breath in the crisp winter air. Refreshing, it was, natural and lovely, no matter the temperature. She continued into the square proper, only to be met with even more eager Octolings than she had seen, all giddy to meet their 8-limbed idol.

“Marina! Could you please sign my Octobrush?!”

“Elite tentacles! Where were you stationed?!”

“Can I get a picture to shove in the face of my Inkling friends!?”

Marina had gotten used to this routine. She went around to each one, signing autographs, taking selfies, and dodging personal questions. The group eventually split, leaving Marina to lean on the front of the studio window, exhausted. It felt good, seeing all of them adapting so well to the surface. It had been a long, hard journey for her, but now? Now the gap between Inkling and Octoling was getting shorter and shorter, Her quiet contemplation was cut short, however, by a muffled “MARINA!” from within the studio. Pearl had finished, the mixer packed into it’s case, and the lights had been turned off. Marina gave Pearl an awkward thumbs up, one which was met with rolling eyes, and turned back into the side street and the studio.

Pearl could hardly carry the thing, and was struggling to haul it out as Marina walked in. “Anything special?”

“The uh… usual. Signings, questions, pictures.”

“Right on. Oh those Octolings, so plucky and full of life. Almost reminds me of a certain someone…”

Wha- “PEARL!” Pearl, the big meanie that she was, almost doubled over laughing, nearly dropping the mixer that Marina held so dear, as the the two exited the studio. The large moon hung high over the both of them, their idol outfits covered in jackets and hoodies, as the left the square for the parking lot in relative silence.

Pearl’s car was… something. That was a word for it. Considering everything else Pearl owned, her car was the most… normal looking, and that was only after prolonged protest from Marina. It was white, had pink trim, and an exposed supercharger which, let’s be clear here, Marina was 100% for. HOWEVER, that was where she drew the line. No sparkly paint, no stickers, and no flashing lights. Thank goodness, she would not let Pearl’s touch ruin this glorious machine anymore than it already had, even if she owned it. Pearl handed the mixer over to Marina, with it being set down gently in the backseat, and slid into the drivers seat easily. Marina had to duck into the Inkling-designed car, and cracked an admittedly goofy smile as Pearl turned the key, bringing the steel beast to life. While Marina loved being in cars, and machinery in general, she couldn’t shake the feeling of giddiness enough to actually focus on operating one. After the third drivers test fail, she had settled on just letting Pearl chauffeur her around. Which was fun, but frustrating when she had to beg Pearl to go anywhere.

Pearl leaned back into the seat, and turned to look up to her partner. “So uh… are you sure you don’t want to go anywhere? We could go to a restaurant, or hit up a movie, or… I don’t know, something?”

Marina looked at her feet, sighing. “No, no. I need some time to rest. Today’s been a bit too much.” She turned to see a rather distraught looking Pearl, and quickly backpedalled. “W-well, if you want to go somewhere, that’s fine! But... but I just want to rest.”

Pearl, always one to lift her spirits, smiled back in that cute way she did. “Right then! I need to pick up some stuff at MakoMart, but I’ll drop you off first. Sound good?”

Marina nodded. The apartment they shared was running out of food, and the store should stay open for a little while longer. “Yeah… yeah that sounds good.” Her smile reappeared as the car made it’s way out of the square’s large parking lot, now nearly empty. Pearl drove fairly skilfully, though this was, of course, Marina’s opinion, the Octoling who had not seen a car for half of her life, and got her driving knowledge from movies, games, and Pearl. Most Octarian domes were small enough that everyone walked, or, if necessary, had some hover platform as public transport. Only in the largest domes were simple vehicles like bicycles or roller skates provided. Marina made a mental note that she would spend her next major break learning how to ride those funky things with Eight, seemed like good exercise. As she pondered what Pearl would think about teaching her yet another facet of Inkling life, the car pulled into the parking garage under 6841 Flatworm Street.

Stretching behind the seat, Marina grabbed her mixer and exited the vehicle. Just before she could close the door, Pearl pushed one of the buttons next to her, lowering the window. “Partner, Sista, Octobro, you look terrible. Anything you uh… want to tell me before I head out.?”

Marina turned on her heel, breathed in, and put on her best PR smile. “I could be worse but… I’ll be fine. Don’t let it bother you.” Pearl sighed, sent the window back up, and put the car in reverse, backing out of the garage. Before she could fully leave, another car came screaming past the entrance, and even through the insulated windows, Marina could hear the string of muffled expletives streaming out of Pearl’s mouth. Marina giggled, called out “No swearing Pearlie!” to the still disgruntled Inkling, and turned to the elevator.

Their apartment was one of the larger ones in the building, available on the 5th floor, which Pearl had very easily paid for. Pearl had paid for the entire thing in cash, with half of the money being what she made doing Off The Hook and turf wars, and the rest coming from her parent’s “allowance”. It still baffled Marina that one squid could have that much money, but Pearl was very adamant that she was a special case, that she came from a rich family, and that this didn’t even make a dent in her father’s account.

Despite the “Pearl Touch” being clearly present, Marina found pride in her ability to inject a little Octarian formality into the Inkling chaos that was their apartment. The messy living area opened up into an even messier kitchen, which Marina 100% blamed on Pearl, with a pair of bedrooms just down a small hall. Just from a single glance you could see who’s room was who’s, with Pearl’s stuffed animals, canopy bed, and flat screen TV forming the complete opposite to Marina’s stiff military bunk, drafting table, and well-organised motorcycle and car parts. With all the chaos of Agent 8, Kamobo, and the latest Splatfest, she had little time to even touch most of this stuff. Schematics for Hyperbombs, improved sprinklers, weapon upgrades of questionable legality, all covered the large wooden drafting table, nestled in a quiet little corner she held so dear. Marina put the mixer down beside her bed, and hopped in from the side, grabbing the slab of a laptop that had been resting there.

Marina quickly logged in, made her way along the web to see what she had missed. No new emails, save for a few scams and ads, a couple Instaclam comments, nothing crazy. This didn’t matter though, as all of the hectic Splatfest cleanup had left her with little time to check up on her own little community. thelightofinkopolis.inet, mercifully shortened to just "The Light", was Marina’s grand project, expertly crafted with coding provided from Agent 3’s anemone friend, and was an aspiring Octoling’s gateway to the strange, fresh world of Inkopolis. Not every Octarian had a Pearl of their own, and The Light was a treasure trove of information and teachings for all the intricacies and oddities of Inkling culture, even though it wasn’t exactly the freshest looking webpage around. The site consisted of two parts: The Squidopedia and the discussion board, both fairly self explanatory. Marina entered the boards, and as it’s self-proclaimed head moderator, began to peruse the latest posts and messages. A few caught her eye:

6:53 - //Veemate (O)// looking for squid friend (S_+3_)
hello, i am octo looking for suid friend to help find housing/food. Will hep with turf wars/cleaning.
>//makliava (I)//
I’m looking for a roomate myself! Meet me up at Arowana Food Court, I’m sure we can set something up!
>//Veemate (O)//
Thank

Marina couldn’t help but smile. Seeing Octarians find friends was always a fantastic feeling. Another post came up, this one seemingly marked by a moderator:

3:24 - //GET_OUT_8 (N)// GET OUT 8 LIMBED FREAKS (S_-26_)
REMOVE OCTO MENACE, #NOTENOUGHTURFFORTHEBOTHOFUS
[this post has been removed by a moderator. Reason: spam, botting, broken rule]

Ah… Right. There were always a couple, some rowdy kids looking for attention, a Great Turf War veteran or two, or the occasional spam bot, Marina understood, she really did. Change was hard, and turf was limited. But these Octolings were all just trying to help. The Great Turf War was over, the Great Zapfish was back, and according to MC Cuttle- sorry, Craig Cuttlefish, DJ Octavio wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. Let’s see, what else… Oh!:

12:27 - //Kelpmuncher (O)// No Hairminions pls! (S_+36_)
Ok so, my inkling mates want to go out to style their tentacles, and they want to take me with them. As much as i want to go with, they’re still unaware that I’m Octarian, and if I get my tentacles cut, they might become Octarian grunts in front of everyone! Is there anyway to stop my cut tentacles from becoming my own private army?
>//kevmadneri (A)//
Hey Kelpmuncher, I run a barbershop close by The Reef, proudly serving both Octolings and Inklings. Cephalopod tentacles naturally repel water, but using a water-based cleanser on them will cause them to shrivel up and lose their nerve endings! Hope this helps ;}.

Marina used her face cream for her tentacles, specifically the front one, to give it that droopy, heavy look, and reluctantly was reminded of her first haircut from Pearl being interrupted by a trio of stout Octotroopers. Pearl screamed so hard at the sight of them that Marina was certain that any higher of a pitch would’ve shattered the mirror they were using. Good times. Rough, strange times, but good times. She snapped back to reality however, with the familiar ping of a new notification, a message:

8:42 - /M O D /ikkan (I)//
hey. youre online finally. all done for the day?
8:42 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
Heeey Ikkan. Yeah, shutting down everything for Splatfest really took it’s toll on me. Thank goodness our week break is coming up. How’s Warabi treating you?
8:42 - //M O D ikkan (I)//
siiiick. warabis cool, we gettin stuff done, some nice beats. i actually messaged you cuz i want to give you a heads up.
8:42 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
Oh? What is required of me, oh messenger from the seas?
8:43 - //M O D ikkan (I)//
never call me that ever again. had an octoling fella in a business suit come by today, wanted to meet up with you. called you miss ida, said you were a combat engineer too, not a dj. must be important.
8:43 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
Oh… my. That doesn’t sound good. Thanks for letting me know Ikkan. Does he have an account on here? Phone number?
8:44 - //M O D ikkan (I)//
no phone on im, and he was strugglin to speak inkling. told him to wait by ur studio tomorrow. around noon. that cool with you?
8:44 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
I uh… think I can pop over. No work tomorrow, so I’d have to either get Pearl to drive me over or take the bus. Think he’s OK?
8:44 - //M O D ikkan (I)//
doubt he’s a cop, looked like he was ready for a board meeting or sometihng. give it a shot, maybe bring pearl, she’s tough.
8:44 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
Right. Thanks for telling me Ikkan. Will keep you posted. See ya.
8:44 - //M O D ikkan (I)//
tight. best of luck.

Marina closed the chat window, noticeably rattled. An Octoling was looking for her? The Combat-Engineer her? Surely, Octavio was gone, there was no way she was still on the slate for treason, and there would be peace. Yes, yes, now was peacetime, not wartime. The Zapfish was fine, everything is fine. Breeeath, breeeath Marina. He probably just wanted to check up on her, maybe he was one of the members of her old flooder research team, Mack or What’s-his-face, here to make up for loss time. Breeeath. Ok, calm now. Marina needed to talk to Pearl about this once she got back, but for now, she needed something to drink.

She shut her laptop, and made her way over to Pearl’s kitchen, still covered in dirty dishes that had yet to be cleaned from the craziness that was Splatfest. Now that it was over, Marina would have to clean- no, Marina would have to force Pearl to clean it! All the mayo stained plates were clearly hers, and Marina always cleaned up after herself no exceptions none whatsoever. She pushed aside Pearl’s step-stool, and grabbed some orange juice from the fridge. Before she could pour a glass, the sound of her cell beeping notified her of a text from Pearl:

Pearl
Whadya want fo dindin?
Marina
Something quick, you still have to clean up the kitchen.
Pearl
Maaaaan, alright. Burg for me, nice little baby salad for you
Marina
Sounds good. Be sure you get that nice pecan one.
Marina
OH ALSO, we need to talk about something when you get here. Very important!
Pearl
You didn’t find my fanart did you?
Marina
…?
Pearl
NOTHING BE HOME IN 15 LOVE YOOOU

That was awkward. Marina took a light sip of her juice, the sugar giving her just enough energy to stay awake, and pulled back into her room with her laptop. OK, distraction, distraction, Marina needs distractions. Luckily, the Internet was distraction central, and Marina soon found herself deep into a rabbit hole of Squiddit and FreshTrash.

12 minutes into a rage compilation on Huetube, the entire building shook with the SLAM of the door… Pearl’s back. Rushing into the kitchen, Marina saw her stout friend drop the groceries onto the counter, pulling out a large paper bag and a small plastic container which she effortlessly tossed to Marina without even looking. “I’m baaaack gir’friend! Let’s eat!”

Marina, refusing to acknowledge such accuracy, moved to the dining room. “R-right. Thanks for the stuff.” "Dining Room" was pretty hyperbolic, being little more than a small table which rested next to a window that provided a good view of the surrounding area, even now as it was shrouded in the darkness of the night.

Pearl hopped up onto her seat at their dining table man, struggling slightly to reach the tall stools, and began to tear into her double cheeseburger like a rabid animal. “Sho, whash thish impohan hing hou waned oo alk abou?”

Marina set her salad down and began to pick at it. “Well, Ikkan messaged me on The Light, and-”

“Oh! Howsh he doon?” Pearl interrupted, halfway through her burger and with a hand full of fries.

“Pearlie, please finish chewing your food before you speak. He’s alright, him and Warabi are doing well, but the important thing is that he said an Octarian is looking for me.” Marina took a proper bite of her salad. Good stuff.

Pearl swallowed, and raised an eyebrow. “An Octarian? Marina, you have hundreds of Octarians looking for you! You’re like their biggest star!”

Marina rubbed her arm nervously. “No it’s not like that. He’s not looking for Marina the DJ, he’s looking for Marina the Octarian combat engineer.”

Pearl froze, fry falling from her hand to the grease-covered paper below. “...Ah. That changes things. What did Ikkan say about him?”

Marina shook her head. “Just that he was a business type, and seemed like an OK guy. He was gonna come by the studio around noon tomorrow. Think I should check it out?”

Pearl crossed her arms, pondering the situation. “I say you go, meet the mystery Octoling. Worst case scenario he splats you, slash kills you, middle of the day, middle of the square, in front of hundreds of squids and octopi. Best case, you meet a new friend. And hey, I’ll be there, so you have nothing to worry about, ya dig?”

A faint smile crossed Marina’s face. Yeah, Pearl would be there, everything would be OK. “S-sure, that sounds alright. I trust you.”

Pearl got that look, that look of being all high and mighty. Marina asks that you stop that, little miss 4’9”. “Sweet! Now let me polish off the rest o’ this borg, while you continue nibbling your weak plants.”

Eck-scuse me, these “weak plants” are packed with nutrition and taste, and are conveniently lacking in the disgusting grease that covers everything you eat, Pearl. Marina swore that Pearl’s taste buds were muted somehow, or something. She blamed the mayonnaise.

The two finished their meals in relative silence, and with a wave Pearl shut the door to her room, leaving Marina to her own devices. It was past 9- she knew she shouldn’t be staying up any longer- but there was no way she could sleep. Too many questions were rolling through her head. As Marina got into the Octo-print PJs that Pearl had got for her as last-years Frostyfest gift, she looked back at her closed door. Pearl was right. There was nothing to worry about. Shutting off the light, The Light, and slipping into the covers for protection against winters chill, Marina was left in a comfortable darkness. Maybe this would be the start of another adventure, like with Eight.

Like Pearl said, Best case scenario, Marina met a new Octarian in need, and as she fell asleep, that was enough for her.

Chapter Text

Inklings.

Are stupid.

That was what Marina was going with as the reason why Octarians were able to integrate so easily. Even Pearl, who met Marina in full combat armour, goggles and everything, still thought she was some funky looking squid in an un-fresh outfit. As the others started rolling in, the more learned and observant caught on, but for the most part the Octolings were little more than your average Turf Battler with a fresh hairstyle. Now, their defection and presence was more apparent, but be it through Inkling hospitality or idiocy, nothing had really changed around here.

The square was teeming with marine creatures of all shapes and sizes as the 10AM rotation of stages was nearing a close. Marina and Pearl had spent their break normally for the first half of the day, lounging, eating, discussing how WRONG Pearl was about salsa, and other such things. Now, with 5 minutes remaining on their Octo-meeting timer, The two had gotten into casual clothes and sat down at a table just in front of the studio. A few odd looks had been sent their way, but for the most part, they were incognito. And no, regardless of what some might say, no autographs were signed that day. None. Shush.

A nudge to her hip brought Marina out of her relaxation. “Business suit Octo, 11 o’clock.” Marina squinted through the midday sun, spotting a tall figure approach through the entrance to the square. He was clearly an Octoling, sporting the standard-issue one-strand hairstyle in a deep dark purple hue. There was clearly an urgency to his movement, as he attempted to weave through the crowd of rowdy teens and jellyfish, large metal briefcase in hand. “Think he’s the guy? Seems fairly nervous for a spooky stalker” Pearl said, smirking confidently.

Marina kept her eye on the character, passing The Shoal and stumbling towards the studio window. A look of stress and exhaustion came across his face as he saw the empty seats. Ikkan was right, he was no cop or soldier, but this was still something that had to be approached slowly. “Go up to him P. Act like a fellow fan, try to get his story out of him.” No risks were to be taken. At least, none to her self.

Pearl hopped out of her chair, stretching her arms. “Heck yeah, Undercover Octo-questioning GO!” Donning the pair of shades around her neck, Marina watched as Pearl waddled her way towards her Octo-stalker. That had a nice ring to it, but Marina stopped herself, unwilling to jump to conclusions yet. Pearl reached the studio, tapping the Octarian in the shoulder, and the two began discussing… things. Marina could not read lips. There was… a fair amount of pointing, some odd gestures... The Octoling steadily became more relaxed, and as he straightened out, Marina noticed that he was squinting very hard in the harsh midday sun. Pearl motioned towards the side door of the studio, seemingly leading the Octoling in, and silently waved Marina over to follow her. Good plan Pearl, let the dude inside their studio. Where were these planning skills when the world was about to end?

As Marina opened the studio door, she could see down the mostly empty hall to a lit meeting room with Pearl standing in the doorway. As she began to approach all stealthy-like, Pearl’s conversation became a little clearer. “...now you just wait right there Mr. Cephlino, I’ll make a call and she’ll be right with you shortly to discuss things.” That right there was Sweet Pearl, the cute little girl that Pearl only brought out for the cameras. To Marina it seemed that no pop idol could get anywhere without developing multiple personalites, herself included. Pearl turned out of the door frame, and brought Marina into a huddle two doors down, demeanour instantly changing back to Princess Pearl. “Alright sista, sitrep. We have a Mr. Nolan Cephlino, here to make a ‘deal’. Seems to be offering something some kind of gig, though it's not super clear. He knows you're a DJ too, so no worries about that.” Consider her questions answered, though she had still never heard of a Nolan before. A musical gig, huh? That sounds... remarkably normal, for all the mystery surrounding the guy, though she still had more concerns.

“Alright, let me go in to meet him. If it’s just to book a gig, we’ll be OK.” The pop pair nodded to each other, and made their way back to the meeting room, where the Octoling was still sitting, dazed and laying on the casting couch across the room, clutching his briefcase to his chest. At the sight of Marina, he did his best to straighten himself out and look professional.

The Octarian, Nolan, if Pearl was right, cleared his throat, and held out his hand. “(A pleasure to meet you M-miss Ida.)” Marina knew she should have expected it, but it was still a shock to hear Octarian spoken so clearly towards her.

Marina calmly took his hand in a shake and oh carp it’s so sweaty. “(The pleasure is mine. Did you come all the way from the mountains? That must have been rough.)” Clearly, it was like 10 degrees outside how was he this drenched bluuuh.

Nolan dropped back into the couch, letting out a raspy sigh. “(Yes, it… was something. Stepping into a whole new world to find you was a trial. I-if I may be so blunt, could I get some refreshment? The brightness of the surface is terrible compared to the screens in Valley Sector 4.)”

Marina couldn’t help but agree. Moving out of the domes into Octo Valley was terrible, the noonday sun glaring on what was essentially a cave-dweller. The Squidopedia recommends that all Octolings bring or retrieve sunglasses, caps, or hoods as soon as possible to block out the heat and light from the big yellow pain ball. “(Of course.) Pearl, could you go get a drink for our guest?” Pearl gave Marina fingerguns, and wordlessly made her way out the door. “(Now, about what you wanted to meet me about…)”

Nolan bolted upright, seemingly trying to retain his air of business amidst the sweat and aching. “(O-of course, allow me to elaborate.)” Nolan cracked open his briefcase and brought out a set of papers and forms. “(To uh, be blunt, the Octarian domes are crumbling, with particular damage to Octo Ridge’s domes.)” Yes, Marina knew that. Even back when she was still in the domes of Slimeskin Garrison, the structure was showing it’s age. Now that the years had passed, she could only imagine the state they were in now. “(Because of this, and in the absence of DJ Octavio, many Octarians, who have either heard the song or simply have had enough with their life, are jumping through security to move to Inkopolis.)”

Wait. She knew about the Inkantation, but Octolings just… had enough? Just, snapped? That was unsettling. She’d have to update the Squidopedia when she got home. “(Isn’t this a good thing? They’re leaving their oppression into a world of freedom, shouldn’t that be good for the Octarians?)”

Nolan shook his head. “(One word: Turf. With more Octolings leaving, the domes will eventually crash. When it happens, there will be no going back. And if Inkopolis has to take all of the lost Octarians, there’s gonna be a fight for space. I’m fairly certain you remember the last time we had a fight for space…)” Ah… right. The last thing anyone would want is a second Great Turf War, and with even less space to fight for, it would be terrible. No more wars, no more theft. Peace.

Marina sighed, taking a seat in the corner of the room. “(And you have a plan to stop this? One that needs my cooperation to work?)”

Nolan adjusted his collar, clear that this was the question he was waiting for. A set of images were pointed to, one being of the kettle leading to the set of Octavio's fight with Agent 3. “(I call it the Three Act Plan. First Act: Bring The People Together. If that Inkling I met the other day is correct, you’ve gone into music, yes? With the DJ gone, the music of the domes has gone... stale, save for a few breakout acts. I want you to gather some people together for a concert, right in Octo Valley. Don’t need too many, just an extra act or two. It’ll bring Inklings into our world, along with money and awareness to the issue. We’ll provide the stage and payment, but we’ll need your group of artists, basic equipment and…)” He stopped, attempting to clear a lump in his throat, and continued, his nervous stammer returning. “(...A-and at least one Z-zapfish.)” Ah. That… would be difficult. The electricity in the domes was always in short supply, and an entire concert with lights and music would be hard to power, if not impossible with out the rare, electric fish that Inkopolis relied on. Marina looked bewildered to Nolan, still sweating, his eyes wide. “(L-look, it’s going to be huge drain. This is the diplomatic part of things: an offering of c-continued peace! Twice we’ve taken the G-great Zapfish out of desperation, and twice we’ve l-lost it, but a singular zapfish will not o-only cover the concerts needs, it will keep us going for just a little while longer while we work out the other t-two phases of the plan!)”

This was clearly taking a toll on him, as his breathing was getting raspier. Marina had been a part of the first Zapfish theft, and distinctly remembered how good life was, for those brief few weeks when power was plentiful. A single Zapfish was not a serious ask, compared to the blatant theft of a whole bunch of them, but Marina and Pearl had none to their name, and even with Pearl's funds, it was not the kind of thing someone just... received. As the two looked at each other in awkward contemplation, the silence was broken by Pearl, reappearing from the hall, carrying 3 cans of apple juice. It was an awkward sight, seeing the DJ in her chair with the sweaty Octoling sprawled over the couch, Pearl couldn’t help but let out a snort. “You look terrible Mr. C.. Here, Apple juice. Should cool you off.”

Nolan accepted the drink, downing almost half of the can in one gulp. “Th-thank you… g-good.” Ah, his Inkling speech must not be the best. He turned to Marina, calmer now. “(Is she an associate of some kind?)”

“Pearl... (is a good friend of mine, and a partner. We perform together, and she personally helped me adapt to the surface. Don’t worry about her height, we uh… don’t like to talk about it.)” Nolan gave an understanding nod, while Pearl looked on, confused.

“Yo, you guys aren’t talking about me behind my back are you? Marina, you know I’m out of practice when it comes to Octotalk.” Marina shook her head with a chuckle, and turned back to Nolan. The whole thing would probably take longer than their week long break allowed, but their producer could stretch the time for the greater good if persuaded. A concert in Octo Valley, a chance to see her old home again as a free Octoling, and the possibility of continued, solid peace between their species intrigued her. But, the effort to perform in a place like Octo Valley… what would all the locals think? Spending such precious resources on a display of decadence…

No. If they could save one world, they could save another. “(We’ll do it. For Octo Valley. For everyone. We’ll need a bit of time, but Pearl and I know some people. We’ll get to the other steps of this plan of yours once that’s done. Thank you for bringing this to us, Mr. Cephlino.)” The two Octolings stood up, exchanged a handshake, and went about sifting through the paperwork that had been laid out in front of them.

As Nolan sipped the rest of his juice, Pearl joined Marina in filling out forms. “Alright, how’d it go? We got a gig in Octoland?”

“Octo Valley, yeah. The plan is to have a huge concert to get money and recognition into the domes. We’ll need some extra acts. Any ideas?”

“Ah sweet! We’ll have to get Ikkan & Warabi in, that Octo pride will be a big plus! Uh… Who else…” Marina considered their options, as she signed her name for the umpteenth time. There was Ink Theory, who were getting pretty popular, but their attitude and style were a little too… rich, for a poor region like Octo Valley. On the other hand, there was ω-3, but… Marina didn’t think any concert of peace would benefit from a Salmonid appearance. The two of them had done work with Chirpy Chips before, they could be given a call- SLAM! “OH OH! MARINA!” Pearl! Nolan almost choked on his drink! “What about the Bottom Feeders? They’ve got tons of variety, a great sound, and they’re tough enough to go anywhere! They should be our other act!”

That… sounds interesting. “Can’t say I’ve heard much of them, other than seeing their names on the Ranked playlist. Are they any good?”

Pearl gave made a noise like she’d been stabbed. “Are they any good?! They may only play in small bars and stuff, but they are gold! Even if all we do is meet them, we have to try the Bottom Feeders.” Riiight. There was no way they were gonna have a Splatfest over this, so Marina decided to agree with her. Besides, this whole adventure would be a new experience, whats one more to the pile?

Marina filled in the final line of writing and handed it over to Nolan, who stuffed the documents into his case. “Hahaha! Chill Pearlie! We’ll go find Bottom Feeders after we get Ikkan and Warabi on board.” She turned to her 8-limbed comrade, who looked much more approachable than the wet mess he’d been at noon. “(The day is still fresh. If you’ve already had lunch, we can go meet up with Diss-pair at their place. You already talked to Ikkan yesterday, so you should know the place.)” Ikkan used to be the bassist for Squid Squad, a rock band that was pretty big back when Marina was still getting a hang of Inkopolis. They didn’t talk much at first, but once she got into Off The Hook with Pearl, the two of them became friends over text and chatrooms. After Squid Squad fell apart, Ikkan ended up forming a new group with a fresh Octarian DJ named Warabi. With the help of Marina, Ikkan became the Pearl to them, and their music had been improving greatly ever since. Marina held a sense of smug satisfaction over the fact that she had played matchmaker between two star-crossed musicians.

As they stepped outside of the studio, the glare of the sun hit them once again. Marina heard Nolan groan as he attempted to cover his eyes. She unhooked her sunglasses and held them out to him. “(Here, cover them. It’s very harmful for Octarians to be without eye protection on the surface.)” Nolan nodded, putting the admittedly feminine looking glasses on, impressed with the protection they provided. The group moved slowly through the crowd, with Nolan trying as hard as he could to keep up, and exited the square into the parking lot. The Pearlmobile rested in their spot, standing out from the basic sedans and trucks around it like a sore thumb.

Nolan passed Pearl, stopping to admire this strange alien craft. “(So this is one of your…)” He stopped as he attempted to find the word. “Kaas… (Was that right? I’ve seen plenty on the way here, but I’ve never ridden in one before.)” Pearl tried her best to hold in a laugh, while Marina just watched as the Octoling reviewed the vehicle, trying to drink it every detail. She'd seen SUVs around the domes occasionally, but they were little more than props and cover.

“(Close,) Caaarrrs. (It’s Pearl’s, and it’ll take us to Ikkan’s place. Just… don’t freak out when it starts up. Compared to Octoling hover tech, it gets loud, and the ride is a lot bumpier.)” Nolan nodded, like a child being lectured by his teacher, and followed her into the back seat. The student now the teacher, Marina grabbed for the seatbelt, and motioned wordlessly for him to follow her lead as they buckled up.

Pearl adjusted her rearview mirror to get a view of the pair, a wide grin appearing on her face. “Awww, look at you Rina! You know Nolan, this gal learned all of this from me. First time I turned on this bad boy, she was practically salivating at the mere sound!” With a touch of dramatic flair, Pearl turned the key, bringing the beast to life and startling Nolan. More sweat began to appear on his face, as the mad little inkling took off out of the lot, into step one of the Three Act Plan.

Chapter Text

Ikkan lived fairly far off, in one of the few proper houses in Inkopolis. The building was clearly on the older side, with the outer paint beginning to peel and the iron gate beginning to rust, but it had a certain rustic charm to it, compared to the more stylish apartments Pearl preferred. The lawn was half dead in the late winter, but Marina got the feeling that Ikkan wasn't the kind of person to care. She had given him the heads up over text that they were coming over, and even though he was as chill as always, Marina still felt like she was intruding. The two had rarely met in person, and now she was barging into his home with a business opportunity? She couldn't even bring herself to ring the bell, with Pearl sliding around her to do it on the small step. A few seconds passed, before the door opened to reveal a scruffy, gangly looking Inkling, with a light purple goatee and baggy pants to go with his baggy eyes. “Heeey, whole gangs here today. Come on in, Warabi’s still out on an errand, but he’ll be here soon to help.”

The group made their way into the cosy little living room, leaving their shoes in the entrance. The inside of Ikkan’s home practically resonated comfort, with the fire running, a large, fuzzy couch, and soft music playing from a radio somewhere downstairs. Next to the fireplace rested Ikkan’s prized bass, the one that had netted him money and fame in Squid Squad, and still jammed out in Diss-pair. Ikkan rubbed his eyes, as if he had just woken up, and motioned for the group to sit down. “Sooo, can I get you guys anything before I get the lowdown on this 'master plan' of yours?”

Pearl, who was already slouching in a plush armchair by the fire, raised her hand. “Hit me with a grape soda if ya’ got any dawg, need me some sugar to keep me going.” Ikkan nodded, and shuffled into the kitchen. Pearl let out a dramatic sigh, and turned to Marina. “How come you never told me that your bassist boyfriend lived in a cosy house for grandparents? Cuttlefish would love this place!”

Pearl no he is not her boyfriend they are only friends please never say such slanderous things again. “Wha- Pearl! We’re just e-buddies, nothing more! And you never asked. Ikkan got this place from his Dad, and he’s been working hard to keep the place from collapsing.”

“She’s right” Ikkan said, reappearing from around the corner, can of Tentakola in hand. “Sorry P, Warabi’s on a health kick, so we only got diiiet Tentakle Grape. This ones from my secret stash, you owe me." He threw the soda over to Pearl, who caught the soda in her lap, a disgusted look on her face.

“DIET Tentakle Grape?! What kind of sick twisted- Cola will do though, thanks man.” Pearl cracked open the soda, and chugged it down, satisfied.

Ikkan made his way over to a creaky rocking chair by the fire and sat down, before gesturing to Nolan. “Right. Well. Octo-fella. Ahem. (Nice to see you again).” The accent was a little off, but the pronunciation was on point. It was enough to make Marina smile, proud to see how far he’d come in dealing with Octolings.

Nolan, a little caught off guard, regained himself. “(Y-yes! I am terribly sorry for springing on you like that, but I couldn’t have done it without your help.) My… name's… Nolan Cephlino. (Why didn’t you tell me you spoke Octarian? It would have made our initial meeting go a lot smoother.)”

Ikkan shrugged. “(Never needed to after Warabi got the hang of Inkling, sorry man.) Now, what’s all this talk of a plan for Octarians?” Nolan and Marina both took turns elaborating, as Pearl and Ikkan both looked on in deep curiosity. Before they could get to the finer details, their attention was drawn to the sound of a key turning in the front door.

“Ikkaaan! I got the stuff you wante-” In the doorway, an equally lanky, tanned Octoling dropped a pair of grocery bags at their feet. The soft red and teal-dyed tentacles matched their eyes, with the front two being pierced multiple times. While Warabi looked and sounded somewhat like a girl, they were pretty adamant that they were 100% dude. His sloven fashion sense was clearly the result of living with Ikkan, with a signature skeleton print shirt that hardly stayed on his shoulders. Warabi’s eyes widened at the sight of the four of them, focusing on Marina. “Maaan! If I’d’ve known we’d have Off The Hook over, I’d have dressed a little better! What the hell is all this?”

“If you, like, put the groceries away, we can tell you everything Warabi” Ikkan said with a smug look. Warabi groaned, reluctantly grabbing the bags before carrying them over to the kitchen. Ikkan chuckled, and turned back to Nolan. “(My other half. I helped him get into Inkopolis after the old gang broke up. He does the DJ portion of our music, and is pretty darn good at it.)”

Nolan nodded in understanding. “(I see. So do you think either of you would be opposed to participating in this event?)” Ikkan shook his head as Warabi returned, free from the clutches of the grocery bags.

“(What event? We are short on work at the moment.)” He took a seat on the couch beside Marina. “(And where does Off The Hook come in?)”

“(We have devised a master plan to fix the crumbling Octarian domes within Mount Nantai, and step one of that plan is to get publicity, get it noticed. We’re going to do this with a charity event, a concert right in Octo Valley! Marina and Pearl have-)”

“...What?”

Marina turned to the Octarian, who was staring motionless at the floor. “Warabi?”

The Octoling beside her had clenched his fists in anger, as he tried to control himself. “I am not going back there.” Uh oh. When Octolings first came to Inkopolis, the very notion of going back underground, for any reason, was as much of a blow to them as being informed a loved one didn’t make it. It had been a while for Warabi, but this was not going to be easy.

“It’s OK Warabi, times have changed. We can-” Marina tried to put an arm on her friend’s shoulder, but it was promptly tossed off.

“NO!” He was genuinely angry now, tears in his eyes. “I lived through h-hell on earth, where I was nothing more than just another number to anybody! I fought my way up here, into the blinding sunlight, to be picked up by a washed up bassist to fulfill my dreams!" Warabi shot up from the couch, an accusatory finger pointed at Nolan. "And now you’re here, an Octarian in my house, my place of fucking safety, telling me I have to go back! I will NOT set foot in Octo Valley again, and I will be staying right the FUCK here!" With that, Warabi turned on his heel, and stomped down the stairs.

The room was a silent for a moment, not sure how to handle the situation. Marina looked to Ikkan for help, as he put his hands to his face. “Aaaaw crap.” Did Ikkan’s foul mouth rub off on Warabi? Inklings, no respect for manners in a situation like this. “This might take a bit of convincing. He tends to get upset whenever I mention Octarians from back home.”

Nolan meekly slumped down into his side of the couch. He probably hadn’t understood a word of it, but even he knew the gravity of the situation. “(That… was not the reaction I was expecting. Oh dear… oh dear oh dear oh dear...)” Whoa whoa whoa, we can’t have two people breaking down now! They couldn’t just drop out at the very beginning!

Nolan began breathing dangerously fast beside Marina, prompting Pearl to get out of the armchair and rush over to help. “Don’t worry, I am an expert in Octo-freakouts. You two see if you can get Warabi to relax, I’ll stay with sweaty boy here.” Ignoring the Octo-freakout comment, Marina shared a silent agreement with her comrades, and got up to follow Ikkan into the house’s basement.

While the main floor of the house could’ve fooled someone of the house’s age, the basement told the truth. Water damage, hurriedly patched woodwork and an odd smell dotted the hall, as they went through the bowels of the house. Through a lit door at the end of the hall, Ikkan & Marina came across what Marina assumed was Warabi’s room. It was fairly bare-bones, with only a few posters and a mirror on the walls, clothes strewn on the floor, and the cream-coloured paint and sheets of everything made a decade or two ago. On top of the bed, Warabi had wrapped himself in his comforter, and was sitting on the edge of the bed, shivering staring at the wall.

“We’ve gone so far Warabi. I haven’t seen you cry in years.” Ikkan moved, slowly and deliberately, and sat down beside the sobbing mess of blankets and tentacles. Marina couldn’t help but find the scene heartwarming, and as the two sat there silently, she snapped a picture with her phone. Once this was all over, it would make the perfect album cover. Warabi sniffed, and leaned onto her partners shoulder.

“I *hic* I don’ wanna go Ikkan. I wanna stay Warabi, I don’ wanna go back to being V3-8557.” Alright Marina, now’s your chance, deep analysis time. V3-8557. Valley Sector 3, 8500-8600 were… Support Company C. Marina couldn’t think of anything wrong with Support Company C, but it was just a step above front-line grunt work, a boring logistics job, so it wasn’t like he was living a life of luxury down there. Marina slid over the bed to the other side of Warabi, causing him to jump a little.

“Support Company C. Not something you’d want to go back to is it?” Warabi narrowed his eyebrows, and gripped his blankets tightly.

“How *sniff* how do you know that?”

“Because I’m not just Marina Ida. My…” Marina paused, her memories slowly reawakening, “ ...my designation was C4-8911-F. Chief of Flooder research and development. And combat sapper.” There were a select few that were bright enough for the team, but Marina was still a soldier, no matter the intellect. “But that doesn’t matter anymore. None of it does. Whether I’m up here or down there, I’ll still be Marina, and you’ll still be Warabi.”

Ikkan nodded in agreement. “The domes may have changed for the worse, and Octarians have apparently, like, changed for the better. But you, you don’t have to change. You’re the best Octoling friend I could ever want.” Warabi remained silent, as Marina took a hold of his hand.

“Warabi. You are NOT a number, and you will never be a number, ever again. You are a respected DJ, a citizen of Inkopolis, and you’re our friend. Octavio is gone.” Warabi eyes grew to the size of tennis balls at the mere mention of DJ Octavio, as he tried to push away, but was pulled back into a tight hug. “(Octo Valley couldn’t control you even if it tried. If we do this, we can save Octo Valley from collapsing, and if all goes well, prevent the theft of any more Zapfish and keep peace between us.)” The two stayed in a bear hug as Warabi calmed down for a almost a minute before they managed to pull away from each other. Warabi wiped the tears from his eyes, and met Marina’s with his own.

“You… *sniff* you’re right, I can’t just leave those assholes to rot.” Yes, that’s it. Breath in, breath out. “You said DJ Octavia is… is gone?”

“Yep!” Wow! Pearl actually managed to sneak up on something for once. “No worries! A, uh, friend of ours, showed us King OctoDork stuck in a big snowglobe! Hehehe, he won’t be getting out anytime soon. I’m Pearl, by the way, don’t think we’ve met properly.” Warabi got up from the bed, and took Pearl’s hand, emphasising the size difference between the two of them.

“A snowglobe? Pffhaha, of all the places- Alright, that’s... good. I’m fine." Warabi let the blanket hit the floor, as he looked around the room. "Thank you. All of you.” Hugs! The solution to everything. Pearl had taught her well. A few more hugs went around, before they returned upstairs to a still slightly rattled Nolan.

Nolan attempted to straighten himself out as best he could as he stuttered out an another attempt at Inkling. “E-everything… OK?” No, not really, but it’d do for now.

“...Yup,” Ikkan said, lying. “Warabi’s calmed down now, and has agreed to at least give it a try. (Hit me with those papers Mr. Cephlino, let’s get to work.)” Nolan nodded, and the three moved into the dining room, to go about filling out all the necessary forms. Pearl and Marina stood to the side, watching eagerly. Pearl took out her phone and began tapping away, enough to pique the curiosity of Marina.

“Thank goodness that’s over. What have you got there P?”

“I juuuust need to check if, uuuuh… There!” Pearl brought up a webpage, showing a menu for a seedy-looking restaurant near Sturgeon Shipyard downtown. “‘The Salty Seaweed Pub and Grill is hosting the Bottom Feeders at 8PM tonight!’ We should totally bring Ikkan and Warabi over there for dinner, and to get the Bottom Feeders on board! The Octo Valley Squad will be complete by tonight!”

“Good job Pearl! Hopefully they’ll agree to come along easier than Warabi. Though… are you sure about this place?” If this was going to be a concert of diplomacy, they were going to need acts with at least a little more class than Pearl’s solo career. Pearl returned to that smug expression that told Marina that something was up.

“Before I became the resident Octo-babysitter and renowned pop idol, I did a couple of… OK performances there, and it was a great place to be. If nothing's changed, I should be good friends with the owner, too!” Aw, nice. Pearl wasn’t particularly keen on sharing info about her past, especially when compared to the entire therapy sessions that Marina went through, telling Pearl about her's.

The two looked on, as the final handshake was made, and Nolan stood up. “(Alright, we have everything sorted out. Thank you for considering. And Miss Warabi, my deepest apologies for causing you such emotional distress.)”

Warabi nodded, patting Nolan on the back. “(It’s coo’ Mr. Cephlino, I… I can get a little emotional. I’m sure Ikkan has dealt with me breaking down, like, more than a few times when I first came to the surface.)” Ikkan just sighed, and as Marina looked him in the eye, it was almost as if a year's worth of stress came back in a second, before silently disappearing. “So, where do we go from here?”

Pearl stepped in. “We can chill together for a bit, and around 7 we’ll head down to the Salty Seaweed Pub to meet up with another potential act: the Bottom Feeders!”

Warabi’s mood took a complete 180 as soon as Pearl mentioned “BOTTOM FEEDERS?! No freakin’ way! Are they gonna be in this act too?!”

“If everything goes well, yeah. They got a gig going at a pub downtown, and we’ll try to intercept them once the show’s over to talk. You also a fan?” Pearl raised a hand for a fistbump, which Warabi gleefully accepted.

“Yes! Those guys were, like, all I listened to when I first got to the surface…” Warabi paused and looked down at his feet, seemingly embarrassed. “...Well, them and the Calamari Inkantation.” He cleared his throat, before going back to Pearl. “Aight, I think you’re a pretty cool squid, short-stuff.” Marina only rolled her eyes as Pearl began angrily shouting up at the Octarian, something about how size didn’t matter. Marina had learned to tune it out after the 5th or so time it was brought up. But she didn't care about Pearl's Napoleon Complex right now. Now, she was proud, proud that they were all getting along, and proud that they might be able to pull it off, a grand concert in the homeland.

With Pearl finished, and everyone in good spirits, the group gathered into the living room to pass the time before they were to go to the pub. Pearl, still miffed about her height, was talking with Ikkan by the fire, as he played the bass part to a song they were working on. Nolan had resigned to the kitchen, having been given permission to help himself to some comfort food. The two Octarian DJs had taken over the couch, with the much calmer Warabi resting his head on Marina’s lap. “So… are there any others we’re bringing in on this?”

Marina shook her head. “We picked you guys for how close you guys are to Octolings, and the Bottom Feeders on Pearl's recommendation. I was thinking we could try to get the people from Sashimori in on it, with Paul being a good pick, but I checked on the ride here, they’ve got their own show in a week.” Warabi nodded, his piercings digging into Marina’s stocking, before sitting back up, arms behind his head.

“Can’t say I’ve personally heard them. Who’s Paul?”

“You haven’t heard? He’s becoming an Octarian prodigy, a skilled DJ at only 10, still in his midshift phase.” Marina hadn’t personally met Paul, but it was hard to miss in the music world when a 10-year old tops the charts. A part of her wanted to though, if only to collab. Definitely not because he was a cute little kid. Definitely.

“No shi- shoot, sorry.” Now that’s more like it. “A midshift Octoling mastering the mix. That is something. So it’s just 3 groups huh? Not that much of a concert is it?”

“For a society that’s listened to nothing but Octavio for years, we don’t want to overwhelm them. Pop, that funky EDM-metal fusion you guys do, and whatever Bottom Feeders do, something-rock, should be more than enough.”

Warabi raised an eyebrow. “What if the Bottom Feeders don’t agree to join? Got any backup plans? Someone like uh… Wet Floor! Or… ! If we’re going to Octo Valley, what about Turquoise October! Once we get there, we could set something up with them!” Huh. A good point. Wet Floor were a pretty fresh rock band that were the main sources of music for basic Turf Wars nowadays, and while they were enjoyable, the people who made up the band were exactly the kind of “slimy little hipsters” that the Octarians wouldn’t be cool with. Turquoise October on the other hand, were a pure-Octarian band, made of semi-intelligent Octotroopers. Despite their music being of the generic, bland Octarian variety, it actually was very well made. With Octavio gone, their music became much more widespread, and according to Agent 3, were actually doing quite well.

“I think Wet Floor won’t really work, but we can try for Turquoise October! Something safe and simple. Problem is that we won’t be able to contact them ‘till we get there. Bottom Feeders will have to do for now, at least.”

Warabi nodded. “Fair points, I’m down with that. Still, pretty hype that we’re going to be meeting up with the Bottom Feeders. Did you know one of their guys is a sentient pile of seaweed in a skirt?”

What. “... Is… is that a metaphor or…”

“No no, I’m serious! Tangle Bottom is a bunch of Mozuku seaweed that sings! And he wears a plaid skirt!”

What. “I’ll really have to see that to believe that.”

Warabi gave a sly grin, and fished a set of coins out of his pocket. “500C says I’m right.”

“You got yourself a deal.” The grin persisted as Warabi stuffed the coins back into his pocket. There was no way… right? Marina flipped on her phone, and decided to pass the time with some time on The Light. Well… she didn’t suppose a little teaser would hurt...:

6:43 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)// !!!Big announcement for Octo-kind!!! (S_0_)
Heyooo all! Squids and Octos alike, just checking in to give you all fantastic news! Off The Hook is teaming up with Diss-Pair for a grand concert! Where will it be hosted? Who else is performing? Weeelll, I can’t tell you juuust yet >;9. But it’s gonna be one big surprise! Keep you posted :D!

There we go, that’ll get the fan’s riled up. Now, what else was going on…:

6:13 - //w_o_o_m_y(I)// Resident Octoling having nightmares, need help! (S_+43_)
We recently found out our friend/roomate of 3 weeks was an Octoling, and in the last few nights they’ve been waking up screaming about the number 3, Anybody know what this means?
>//RIPSquidSquad (O)//
Three is a boogeyman to us Octarians, supposedly a secret agent that took down the entirety of Octavio's regime in the First Zapfish Heist with nothing but a roller. Take them aside, give them some tea, and let them know that they're on the same side now. Hope this helps.
>//M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
Just to add to this: Yes, 3 is real, and 3 is dangerous. Buuut, I have personally spoken to them, and despite their cold attitude, they’re a good friend. Please do what you can to stop the spread of Octarian misinformation over defenders of peace like 3!
>//w_o_o_m_y (I)//
ASDGFHAD Marina! Thanks for everything guys!
>//RIPSquidSquad (O)//
Woah woah woah, I knew you had friends in high places, but you’ve met 3?! WHAT!? How did that happen?
>//M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
That’s a story that’s both long and classified, sorryyy. Maybe give it a couple of years for interspecies relations to cool, and I’ll write a book on it!

“Yo M., the Internet will rot your brain you know! Hehehehe…” BLUH PEARL WHEN DID YOU GET HERE? “It’s 7, we should head out if we wanna catch the Bottom Feeders! C’mon! Get up!” Nolan had returned from the kitchen, desperately trying to wipe crumbs from his suit, while Ikkan had packed up his bass, and was headed for the door. Warabi got up from the sofa, so full of life compared to the sobbing mess he had been hours before, and pumped his fist in triumph.

“Alright! Let’s go get ‘em!” Warabi took three long steps past Marina before freezing awkwardly, and sheepishly turning back around. “Um… uh, can we ride with you two? Ikkan’s thing is uh… kinda in the shop.”

“Heck yeah, we got just enough space for everyone! You guys are gonna have to be in the back with Cephlino though, and I warn you: he get’s very sweaty!” Pearl chuckled, as Nolan came up behind them, face bright red.

“I’ll… be fine. Shut.” Warabi snorted out a laugh as the gang made their way back onto the lawn of the old house.

The lanky Octoling let out a whistle as he he crossed in front of Pearl’s car. “Well Pearl, Your wheely box isn’t exactly discreet. This thing just screams ‘Rich rapper with white tentacles’.”

Pearl shrugged. “Hey, what can I say. Ya girls got a style to stick to. Also, what the heck is a ‘wheely box’?” … Oh no. He didn’t.

"You know, the wheely box, the thing you ride in?” … Oh my goodness he totally did.

“WOHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAHAHAHA!” Ikkan threw his head back in laughter. Oh he absolutely did.

Marina rested her hand on this absolute monster, and may or may not have put his shoulder in a vice-like grip. “Ikkan. My good friend. Please tell me you did not tell Warabi a car was called a 'wheely box'. I’m begging you.” Ikkan tried to steady himself, on the verge of tears from how hard he was laughing like the big meanie jerk he was.

“Aw man. S-so much for keeping that up. Sorry Warabi but… Pfffff it was just too funnehehehe...” Pearl joined Ikkan in the cavalcade of laughter, while Warabi, poor innocent Warabi, was left looking like his entire life was a lie. Nolan tapped Marina’s shoulder and oh yeah he’s here.

“(Sorry to intrude, but I am not understanding what is so funny. Aren’t we going?)”

“(Yes Nolan, we are going. And Ikkan will be sitting in the middle seat. Any longer and it’ll be the trunk)”

“Ohohoho-k, I’m going, I’m going. Dome Saviour Squad roll out, and all that. *snfrt*.” … That’s not half bad a name…

Chapter Text

The car pulled into the lot of the Salty Seaweed, which had a surprising amount of cars for what looked like little more than a small pub off of a large shipyard. The salty smell of the sea permeated throughout the place, with the distant sound of a far-off horn completing the scene. Despite her thick winter jacket and thick Octarian skin when it came to cold, the winter night still cut into Marina, shivering slightly. She would do her very best to reserve her judgement about the the place, but if Pearl and Warabi said this was a good choice, she’d see it through to the end.

The second Pearl opened the door, Marina was hit with a wall of noise. Rowdy marine life of all types were eating their meals and drowning in drink, while rock-and-roll played through the radio. Most of the wall decorations and even a few of the tables were made of old ship parts, some rusting and and nearly falling apart. Lighting was provided by flickering candles at every table, and industrial electric lamps. At one end of the building, a pair of Jellyfish were engaged in a heated game of pool, with a raised platform- a stage, judging by the various instruments covering it- taking up the other end. The group left their outerwear on a set of coat pegs in the entrance, before steadily following the shortest member into the cloud of noise and warmth.

Pearl made her way up to the bar, struggled onto a stool, and in usual Pearl fashion, began to yell. “HEY-YO DOUGIE! I’M BACK AND I’VE BROUGHT FRIENDS!” A few mutters and whispers were heard throughout the crowd, but for once, Pearl was not the loudest thing in the room. Truly, a miracle. A large, muscular looking… crab, Marina thought, appeared from around the corner. His shell was much larger than Sheldon’s or Sean’s from the square, and his claws were huge! His small, grey eyes lit up at the sight of the short squid on the stool.

“Little one! It has been of the sooo long! Had I not heard music on radio, I would have thought yuo were kersplat! Come here!” The two shared a hug over the bar thanks to Dougie’s enormous arms. The crab spoke in a thick, foreign accent, and let out a raspy laugh as he turned to Marina. “Yuo must be octopus. Pearl has said many things of yuo.” He held out his hand for a shake, which Marina cautiously took, impressed by how soft his grip was, even with the claws that looked like they could crush shells. Pearl had talked about her to this guy? Little weird, but Marina decided that it wasn't worth thinking about. “Welcome to Salty Seaweed! Is there anything I can be of getting for yuo?” Nolan and Diss-Pair came up behind them, with Nolan marvelling at the huge crustacean before him. “Oho! More octopus! Yuo have grown quite circle of friends, even as yuo have not grown self!” … Whoa, nothing? Pearl didn’t even flinch at the short comment! Dougie must have some kind of friendliness aura emanating off of him.

“Yeah! Guys, this is the owner, bartender, and good friend Dougie, the dunguness crab! I’ve know the big fella since I was rolling solo, but we haven’t been able to meet up since Marina came round!" Handshakes and fistbumps were had all around, all Octarians equally wary of the size of him.

“Haha! You have look of musicians to you, are yuo of here for Bottom Feeders?”

Warabi took up the stool beside Pearl. “Hell yeah! I’ve never seen them live, so this is gonna be a real treat for me!”

Dougie turned to work the taps for another customer, his attention still on Warabi. “I am not of music critic, but they are fantastic performers, good patrons, really get place going. Does party of 8 limb want drink?”

“Just some OJ is OK.”

“Get me the usual!”

“... Diet Tentakola, please.”

“Well… One drink won’t hurt. I’ll have a glass o’ Lechtwasser.”

“Um… OJ. (Is that right?)” Dougie nodded, and went to work while everyone else took their seat. Marina took the other stool flanking Pearl.

“So, first impressions?” Pearl grinned slyly. Marina rested her elbows on the bar as she watched Dougie do his work at lightning pace.

“It’s… alright. Not my style, but it’s certainly comfy. I can definitely see you in those high black boots rocking out on stage.”

"You know it sista! Still, I’d much rather be singing Ebb & Flow in front of thousands than !@#$ Dudes Be !@#$ Sleepin’ in front of a pub, hehe...” A pair of glasses and a bottle were slid in front of them, one of orange goodness that had no pulp in it, PEARL, while the bottle and other glass were filled with “CheepCheep Cherry Ale”. “Woah, a whole bottle Doug? What’s the occasion?”

“A gift! For friend I have not seen in many ages! Consider all on house!” Wha- How?! How on earth did this place stay in business if it could just throw alcohol at people like Pearl, while leaving all it’s furnishings rusting?! Ugh, even now, the surface was finding ways to confuse Marina, still. She did her best to keep alcohol out of the house, as the only thing worse than Loud Pearl is Drunken Pearl, and generally the only time that Pearl ever got to go out for drinks was when she was the Splatfest winner, which she wasn’t. Marina won! Marina won 0-3! HAHAHAHAHAHA! But. This would be OK. Everything would be OK. They were going to wait patiently for the show to start, and grab food afterwards, right?

It took all of 5 minutes for Pearl to be four glasses down and woozy. Another 5 and she was becoming the dreaded Drunken Pearl, destroyer of worlds, slurred speech and all. “Reeeenaaaa, heeheeee, ish sho good tha’ we ge’hoo go on ano’her a’ven’hure a-*hic*-ghain! Marina tried her best not to lose her temper, as the others looked on in curiosity and horror. “We gonna’ do a ghiiig an’ sing sooongsss an’ saaave the wooorl’, heeheeee!”

Ikkan, still on his first glass, chuckled. “I take it P is a bit of a lightweight?” No Ikkan, stop. There is no fixing this, only making it worse.

Case and point, “WHOH THE FACH A’ YUO CALLIN’ LIE’WAYH YUO BAISH-PLAYIN’ BISCH!?” Uuugh… “I AM FOW FOO’ NIH’ HAN-A-HAFF INSHES O’ PYOO FACHIN’ POWA!” Pearl please people are staring stop.

Marina glared at Ikkan. “Is that enough of a yes for you?”

Ikkan kept trying to take another sip, but couldn’t fight back his laughter at the drunken shortie. “Hoh-*wheeze*-Ohohoho, yes, that’ll do. Aw man, even if this whole thing fails, I’m having the time of my damned life.” The rambling and yelling continued for what felt like years, and before long Pearl was groggily napping on the bar, with Dougie providing a blanket for comfort. Poor guy, must not be the first time. All of a sudden, the electric lights shut off one by one, leaving only the candles to illuminate the tables. Spotlights hidden in the ceiling’s rafters were turned on, illuminating the small stage. Opening a cupboard in darkness, Dougie took out what looked like a telephone, and began to speak into the pub’s crackly speaker system.

“Gentlemen and ladies, My pleasure is great to introduce yuo all to tonight’s main event: Bottom Feeders!” The whole pub burst into applause, causing Pearl to snap awake, a little tipsy but much more manageable. A few hoots and cheers were heard, the loudest coming from Warabi, who had long since finished his cola. From a back room the performers came one by one, and- Oh you gotta be-

“Seems like someone owes me some moooneeey~” Tangle Bottom did indeed fit the description of seaweed-in-a-skirt that Warabi had described earlier. His “head” was just seaweed arranged in a vague circle shape, with round eyes appearing out of two of the strands, and two more to hold up his glasses. Coming out of his black T-shirt were even more strands of seaweed, acting almost like tentacles as they moved. He did indeed have some kind of large skirt on, though it definitely looked more manly than what one would attribute to a skirt, and his boots were so big that Marina could feel the floor shake slightly with every stomp.

Coming up behind him was a shark in a tiny hat and tight pants, a pufferfish in a similar skirt to Tangle, a scallop in suspenders and an old-fashioned getup, and last but certainly not least, a beautiful tropical fishfolk. When she had first arrived on the surface, Marina had spent a ton of time on the internet, researching the new and diverse species of the surface, and the red, flowing hair and black skin of this fishfolk made her one of the few classy things in the room. The group met on the stage, grabbing their respective instruments. The pretty fish grabbed a violin, the shark a large bass guitar similar to Ikkan’s, and Tangle… a microphone? “Warabi… the seaweed is their singer?!”

“I told you so! Just watch!” Instruments were tuned as the crowd hushed themselves to silence. The shark cleared his throat as he gripped his bass.

“Thank you all fer comin’ to the show! Who here's ready to 'ave a good toim?" More hoots and hollers were had as the band steadied their instruments. "Roight then! ONE, TWO, ONE TWO THREE FOUR-” Marina was suddenly hit by an utter cacophony of noise as all 5 band members started the song, which was... really good, actually. Despite Tangle being, you know, seaweed, he still managed to sing by vibrating the strands in his head like a string instrument, though it wasn’t entirely recognisable words. The violin was the star of the show, fiddling at speeds Marina hadn’t even seen before, all the while gracefully dancing and jumping about the stage. Some of the patrons had gotten up to dance as well, including Warabi, who had dragged poor, poor, confused Nolan out onto the floor and was practically throwing him around to the beat. Pearl could only clap along from the sidelines, still feeling funky from her nap. Marina could hardly keep up with everything, as Ikkan reached over and tapped her shoulder, face slightly red.

“Not your thing!?” he yelled, trying to speak over the crowd.

“N-no! It’s very good! I’m just… overwhelmed is all!” Ikkan simply nodded understandingly and went back to… wait, was that still his first glass? How was he that red halfway through a light beverage? “Interesting how you call Pearl drowning herself ‘lightweight’ while you can hardly stomach half a glass!” Ikkan only grinned, putting a finger to shush her, and turned to the music, which began to slow down to a stop after a good 4 minutes. As the band took a bow, they were met with uproarious applause and raised glasses. Nolan stumbled back to the bar, dizzy from Warabi’s mad moves, and let out a sad groan as he plopped back onto his stool.

“(Is… is this what all music does to you up on the surface? That was utter madness, and please, please tell me that if we do bring them in, I never do that ever again.)” As if on cue, Warabi came up behind him, squealing like a deranged Squid Sisters fangirl.

“THAT WAS AWESOME! Seafoam Shanty is my favourite song of theirs, and I got to dance to it LIIIIIVE!” Warabi please, you are approaching Pearl volumes. Blurgh, so much for staying low. As the crowd went back to their meals and drinks, the band began to pack up their things. Marina turned to Dougie, who was serving an anemone a small, fruity drink, and waved him over.

“So Dougie, now that the show is over, where are the members going?”

“Private room upstairs! We have meal being sent up. Why? Do yuo have business with them?”

Yeah, cat’s out of the bag huh? “That obvious? We were hoping to recruit them for a big concert. Would it be possible to meet up with them?” Dougie scratched his… chin?... and went back to the phone again, this time dialling a different number. A few minutes later, a jellyfish in a chef’s hat leaned around the corner and nodded to him. Dougie put the phone back down, and returned to Marina's side.

“Is good! Bring business octopus and fanboy. I will watch little one, needs rest, and purple one seems content” Marina couldn’t help but giggle at ‘business octopus’, and motioned for Warabi and Nolan to follow her down a hall. Turning a corner and climbing a flight of stairs, the three were met with a pair of large double doors. Knocking on the door, a peppy “Come in!” brought them into the private room, large enough for events. The band members had spread themselves out throughout a big table, which conveniently had 3 open spaces for them.

The fishfolk waved them over. “Don’t be scared now luv, ‘ave a seat! We won’ bite!”

Marina was taken aback by their hospitality. Weren’t they intruding on their dinner? “O-oh! Thank you.” Each of them took up a seat, as the fishfolk extended a hand across the table.

“The name’s Fin Bottom, but for formali’y’s sake, Fiona will do. An’ you?”

Marina took the hand. “Marina of Off the Hook. Thank’s for having us on such short notice.” At the mention of her name, there were a pair of gasps from opposite ends of the table.

The shark spoke first, still in that accent of his. “Roight, you’re one o’ them news folk in the squa’e? A’ve ‘eard ye was musicians, neva seen ye’ in concert, let alone in person.” The scallop seemed to have grown nervous, tugging at the tight collar of his old-timey shirt.

“Um… I’m a big fan… I-is Pearl with you?” Alright, scallop’s a little weird, good to know.

“She’s… had too much to drink. My friends here are Warabi of Diss-Pair, and Nolan Cephlino, who’s visiting from Octo Valley.” More handshakes were had, Warabi shaking with excitement, Nolan with nervousness.

“A pleasure to meet you all. So, what’s this ‘business’ you’re on about? We’ve no’ go’ any more gigs lined up for a long while, if that’s wot ye’ wonderin’.” Nolan nodded, popping open the briefcase to pull out more forms for the each of them. As they were looked over, Nolan handed the case over to Marina.

“(Sorry, you’ll have to handle this one.)” ...Right. Nolan still needed Inkling lessons. Ok, breeeath.

“Alright. To put it simply, Octo Valley is crumbling. With all the Octolings coming into Inkopolis, it’s issues are becoming more known, but nothing is being done. Our goal is to bring a group of artists together, and organise a concert in Octo Valley, bringing Inklings, money, and attention into the domes. We already have Off The Hook and Diss-Pair, and we were hoping if you could join us in our endeavour to add some more .”

A few glances were exchanged, before Tangle spoke up, vibrating the strands in his head like vocal chords. “Weel whaur is this glen steid anyway? A've ne'er even heard o' it.” … Um… huh. This was their vocalist?

Fiona sighed. “Sorry, ‘e’s a grand singer, but nobody can understan’ a lick of wo’ ‘e’s sayin’.” Tangle crossed his arms(?) and leant back in his seat.

“Tis nae mah fault a' o' yer glaikit.” This… this is going to mess with our team communication a bit, wasn’t it? Blurgh. Fiona only giggled sweetly, and continued.

“Wo’ ‘e’s tryin' ta say is tha’ we don’t know where this ‘Octo Valley’ is. And ye’ mentioned somethin’ about domes?” Whoa whoa, what? Warabi’s awe had been replaced with a mix of confusion and sadness, as she said what her fellow Octarians were thinking.

“You’ve never heard of Octo Valley? Land of the Octarians, the other side of the Great Turf War?! Where do you think all the Octolings are coming from?” A few uncomfortable glances were exchanged, as the shark rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Oi don’t mean ta offend, but all’a the squids think ye’ some koinda’ fashion trend. You fink all the ova sea creata’s know about ye ‘omeland, let alone ye’ me’ existence?” Warabi sheepishly nodded in agreement, the atmosphere in the room now considerably more depressing than the jovial tone it had started in.

Marina continued. “Well… having lost the Great Turf War, Octarians were forced to move underground in the valley behind Mount Nantai. I’m from Octo Canyon, while Warabi and Nolan are from Octo Valley. There’s also Octo Ridge, Octo Cliff, and… I think Octo Falls is way out there. The domes are the many small environments in which they live. They’re steadily losing structural integrity, and by doing this concert, we can get the proper resources moving through them.” The looks of confusion around the room were steadily turning to looks of concern, as Fiona put her chin in her hands, taking it all in.

“So, let me get this straight: A society is crumblin’ beneath us as we speak, and to get the issue known we ‘ave to perform there?”

“I mean, when you say it like that…”

The shark held up his hand to stop her, than turned to his bandmates, an excited look in his eyes. “Le’s fakin’ do it, ma’e! A big gig loik this’ll give us the dow we need to go further! If all we go’a’ do is play a di'y a few ‘undred feet down under, we save a civilisation an’ we get ‘andsomely rewarded. Wo’s the big deal?” Mumbled agreements were had throughout the table, Shark-man turning back to the party of Octolings. ”Oi’m in, who’s wif me?

“I hear th-they have some real strong cuties d-down there. Let’s go”

“Ah'ament yin fur hingin aroond, tis braw ”

“Tha’s three o’ foive! Wo' abou' you Polly?” The pufferfish drummer, who had remained silent through the entire meeting, looked up from her phone.

“Sure.” Woman of few words.

Fiona clapped her hands together. “Then it’s decided! Pass those papers… Nolan, was it?... and we’ll do it!” Nolan nodded, sliding the forms across the table, along with a set of pens. As Marina marvelled at how effortlessly the shark wrote without fingers, her phone vibrated.
3
sup

That was rare. Three almost never texted first. Either something very bad happened, or they just had absolutely nothing better to do than surf through their contact list until they landed on Marina.

Marina
Three? What’s up dude, how’ve you been?
3
bored
tired
you?

Yep, it was the latter. Well, if it concerns Octarians, perhaps the agents should at least be made aware of it.

Marina
Me and P are actually setting up a big concert in Octo Valley, hoping to raise awareness for Octarian suffering. Would you be interested in coming?
3
...srs?
im pretty sure i wouldnt be getting back in there without an inkstrike and a face transplant
no dice
Marina
...Shoot. Any word from Eight? And that new guy... Four, was it?
3
8s cool
4s stupid
all is normal
and boring
just wanted to check in
glad to see u making fun
gotta go, grizz is opening soon
Marina
Alright pal, see you soon :3!

Oh sure, text Marina to start a conversation, then just leave to go do a Grizzco shift. Marina was so sick of that place, not because she disliked the company or work, but just through the sheer amount of ads she had to do for it. Oop, Another notification, this one from The Light. Who's this?:

8:15 - //CraigCuttlefish (I)//
HELLO MARINA
Oops cap button sorry
Are you well?
Please respond miss Ida
8:36 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
Heeey Cap! Sorry it took so long to respond, am pretty busy right now. I’m doing well though ;9!
8:36 - //CraigCuttlefish (I)//
Wonderful I hear you are having an event of some kind
8:37 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
Yeah, It’s a concert in Octo Valley, to help keep the domes from crumbling! Would you be interested in coming?
8:37 - //CraigCuttlefish (I)//
OCTO VALLEY eh? I sure hope you are not doing this becus you have fallen to the siren song of that DJ are you?
*because sorry
8:37 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
NO NO NO, it’s not like that! Regardless of how you feel about Octavio, we can’t just let Octarian society be destroyed! We’re just going to raise awareness and money, that’s all. No brain remixing or anything.
8:37 - //CraigCuttlefish (I)//
I believe you I don’t see species I don’t think I’ll be able to come though these old bones cannot handle that kind of travel
8:37 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
It’s fine. MC Cuttlefish can be their in spirit, cheering us on! ;}
8:37 - //CraigCuttlefish (I)//
In spirit? Don’t you Octarians think you can get me that easily!!!
8:37 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
No Craig just… see you around, you old geezer.
8:38 - //CraigCuttlefish (I)//
Goodbye Marina!

Marina sighed, shutting off her now near-death phone. The Captain was a good friend and GTW vet they met through Eight, but sometimes he let his wartime opinions get in the way of that friendship. Though he was old-fashioned, Craig was still surprisingly full of life at over 100. He was also one of Marina’s few links to the Squid Sisters and there was no way that was changing. The Bottom Feeders had just finished up their paperwork as the double doors to the room burst open, a pack of jellyfish streaming through it, carrying all manner of food and drink. Nolan hurriedly pulled the forms into his case, as it’s place was soon taken up by an enormous roast. Fiona picked up her fork and licked her lips. “Well, now that we’re all chummy, would you lot care to join us fo' dinna'? They always give us too much anyway.”

“Oh, we’d love to, but we should just-”

The shark, always one to take authority, raised his hand again to stop her. “Mate, if we’re goin’ta be octo-buddies or somefink, we gotta' unwoind togever, yeah? We insist!” Not wanting to go against what the large, scary shark asked of her, Marina sat back down in her chair, and began to pick at some of the potatoes in front of her. It was a wholesome scene, everyone tucking in to the mountains of food in front of them, Nolan doing his best to converse with Tangle, and Warabi attempting to get his phone case autographed by Fiona. She decided to pack some away for Pearl and Ikkan, who, like the foolish fools they were, got drunk. Like fools. It would’ve been the perfect end to a day… unless…

“Now, about that 500 you owe me…”

Ugh.

Chapter Text

The rest of the night had gone smoothly for the newly-christened “Dome Saviour Squad”. Bottom Feeders had said their goodbyes and packed their things into a rather large van, and Pearl, though upset that she had yet to meet the 5 of them in person, had sobered up enough to drive them out of there. Out into the distance, Marina could see ships of all shapes and sizes, hulking steel beasts lit up with spotlights and warnings. Way off, she could just barely make out the silhouette of the Kamobo statue, still standing slouched in the water, a constant reminder of past trials. It was half past 9 by the time they stumbled out into the parking lot, stomachs full and spirits high, and even Nolan looked particularly pleased… Wait, speaking of Nolan… “(Nolan, do you have a place to stay?)”

Nolan nodded in response, his single braided tentacle flopping on his head. “(Don’t worry about me Miss Ida, I’ve been provided with public accommodation for the duration of my stay. It’s close to the square, so I should be able to get my bearings about how the place works.)” He seemed a far cry from the sweaty mess he had been just this afternoon, Marina’s sunglasses still hanging from his collar as he strode over to the car, briefcase in hand. The gang managed to squeeze themselves into the Pearlmobile once more, as Pearl pulled out of the lot and onto the quiet night road. Marina looked back at the two tired Octolings and the half-asleep Ikkan, who was doing his best to fight off going to sleep after what Pearl claims to be a whopping two light beers! What a fighter!

She cleared her throat, cautious not to spook Ikkan. “(Care for some music?)” Three nods of approval greeted her, as she turned to her phone. Alright, quiet… quiet music, let’s see… she had downloaded some Turquoise October stuff off the internet that might be good, but… Oh! “(Have any of you heard of an artist named ‘Dedf1sh’?)” After the whole Kamobo thing, Eight had let Marina borrow her CQ-80 device for a bit. While the tech itself wasn’t special, fairly bog-standard Octarian stuff, she still managed to copy off some mp3’s that Eight had heard throughout the facility, each with a number and a corresponding simple title. She'd never heard of them before, but Eight said they were alright.

Warabi shrugged, nudging a groaning Ikkan. “(Can’t say I have. Put on some stuff, let’s here ‘em.)” Marina plugged her phone into the car’s radio, and scrolled through what she had. Hmm… #9 party sounded upbeat, and at the very least it wasn’t #13 regret. She pressed play, and was immediately greeted with a pulsing electronic beat coupled with what sounded like... banjos? It… wasn’t bad, per se, had a nice rhythm to it, but it was very reminiscent of the music back in the domes. Just kind of… there, like the background of a how-to video. Nolan seemed fairly into it, but Warabi, ever one to distance himself from dome life, gave an awkward grimace a minute in. “Blargh, it’s just Octo-junk, no thank you. Man, where did you get this stuff from?”

Marina obliged, moving the sound from the car’s speakers to her phone’s. “A friend of mine. I get what you mean though, it is pretty much designed to be monotonous.”

Warabi rolled his eyes. “I swear, every time I here some tidbit about you, it’s always surrounding a ‘little friend of yours’. How many of these ‘little friends’ do you have?! There somethin' you're hiding from me?” Marina couldn’t help but agree. If it weren’t for Pearl, Marina would be in a lab in the domes, slightly adjusting viscosity levels of ink for the ten-thousandth time, and there would be a lot less excitement in her life if she’d never gotten to know Eight. The land of Inkopolis certainly brought with it strange and exciting opportunities. Maybe Eight and Warabi should meet...

She let out a sly giggle. “Sorry dude, classified~.” Warabi answered with a smirk of disbelief, but kept his thoughts to himself as the car drove under the night sky, the roads almost entirely quiet. Ikkan’s place was the first stop, closer the pub than the square. Diss-pair got out and said their goodbyes, with Warabi having to almost drag the woozy Inkling up the path to the front door as he lazily waved to the others, before disappearing inside. Then, with the help of Nolan, Pearl was directed back towards the square where he was staying, which turned out to be the respected Borealis Hotel, an enormous building which loomed over the shops and restaurants next to it.

As he gathered up his things to leave, Pearl stared up at the gargantuan hotel beside them. “For a guy struggling to make it through the day, you sure have some fine accommodations.”

Nolan looked confused, his Inkling still rusty, as Marina elaborated. “(How did you afford to stay in a place like this for what we assume will take a week?)” Nolan nodded understandingly, a little bit of his nervousness getting through.

“(My, uh, employer is taking measures to ensure I am treated well up here. Compared to the beds of the domes, my room feels like heaven. It’s just a means of keeping me close to everything.)” Nolan waved, and turned to walk into the lobby, where a bellboy waited by the door. Employer? So he wasn't the mastermind behind all of this? Hmm, once they got back together, some questions were to be had. Marina stroked her chin in thought as... hey, wait a minute… he still had her sunglasses on him! Oh well, it wasn’t of too much concern. Nolan needed the eye protection, and that was one of what had to be about 16 pairs that Marina had waiting at home.

As Nolan disappeared out of sight, Pearl let out an exhausted sigh, her arms sliding off the steering wheel. “For 10 hours he’s up here, and we’ve already been contracted to save the world with music. What a freakin’ day.”

“So much for a break after Splatfest, huh?”

“Right!? Let’s get some shuteye, I am pooped, dawg.”

The car finally pulled into the parking garage at around 10PM, Pearl holding the hefty takeout box with her as they rode the elevator up. Once they entered their apartment, the two of them too tired to do anything else, Marina waved her partner good night, and left Pearl to gorge herself on meat and potatoes as she closed the door to her room.

Beeeed. It wasn't a pretty bed, or the comfiest bed, but a bed was a bed, and Marina loved her stiff bunk, no matter what Pearl said. Marina tossed her coat to the floor, and leapt onto the cotton sanctuary face-first. Almost immediately, she regretted it, as her chest slammed into the laptop hiding under the sheets. Ow. A few pained groans later, the laptop had been grumpily set on her night stand, and Marina had already given into sleep, clothes still on, blankets haphazardly covering nothing more than her legs, and worries soaring through her head. But now was not the time for worry. Tomorrow, the planning would begin… tomorrow…

…

…….

Marina sprung up from the table, eyes crusty from a long sleep. Looking around, the the room had already been reduced to Power Lvl. Minimum. She had dozed off on the job again! The lab was incredibly dark, with only the lights of the few open vidscreens permitted to illuminate her surroundings. Where was everyone? Surely someone would have woken her up to inform her of the shutdown. Marina’s lab coat slid off of the stool as she stood up, analyzing the situation. Something was very wrong. Even at Minimum, the lab still had a distinct hum from all of the electronics, but even the dimmed vidscreen on the table emitted no noise whatsoever. The room was deathly quiet. A few strides away from her desk, Marina spied a small figure, sitting on another stool and near impossible to make out in the low light. As she inched closer, the figure began to take shape, looking similar to… someone? Their name was on the tip of her tongue, but Marina could not for the life of her remember. The figure turned to her, face half illuminated by the vidscreen in front of her, and opened their mouth to speak.

“It’s not going to just work.” What? Flooder development was going along smoothly, the prototype was nearing completion, and she hadn’t been approved of anything else recently. What on earth was she talking about? How did she get in here anyway? This was a restricted area. Marina tried to open her mouth, to tell her off, but for some reason her mouth didn't seem to want to open.

“This place is not your home anymore.” This girl was incredibly rude. The lab wasn’t her home, yes, what is it to you? The figure opened their mouth to speak once again, but before it could say any more, the building began to violently shake and buckle, tossing Marina off balance and onto the floor. Large chunks of ceiling began to crumble, falling mere inches away from where the two stood, while cabinets full of jars and test tubes toppled over and smashed, spilling their hazardous contents all over the floor. Marina had evacuation plans set, the team had prepared for the end, but her body wouldn't listen to her as another vidscreen toppled to the floor, it's projector shattering. Marina couldn’t run, her legs locked in place, gaze transfixed on the blank faced figure that now stood atop the stool.

“What will Clara think when you come waltzing in? Will they even remember you?” Stop this! The lab is being destroyed! This was no time for riddles! She had to get out, get out, get out, get out, get out-
“How much of you is you?”

...

Marina awoke in a cold sweat, her hands shivering as they hurriedly gripped the blanket. Her eyes darted around the room, settling on the half-finished motorcycle in the corner, and the clock on her nightstand: 2:13. It had been a dream, that was it, just a dream. She had been back in the lab, and then something happened. Pearl was there, and then- Something. It had only been a few seconds ago, but already the details of it all were starting to fade from her.

But now everything was real. Her covers, her laptop, even her chest pains, which were still persisting even after this long. Breeeath. Marina sighed, and pulled the cover up and over herself. She had gotten plentiful nightmares when she first arrived on the surface, when it was still new, confusing, and treasonous. A part of her wondered if she could get Pearl up, not to baby her or anything, just… something. That reassured her, the fact that no matter what, Pearl was always there for her. The nightmare was chalked up to the stress of the day, and Marina resigned herself to another attempt at sleep, dozing off in minutes.

...

Sunlight seeped through the windows of the bedroom, as Marina found herself waking up slumped on the floor, with her blankets and pillow having come with her. Marina groggily got up and peered over the bed at her alarm clock on the opposite side. 9:41 AM. Alright, not the most restful sleep. Or the most comfortable. As she slowly made her bed back up, there was a loud knock at the door to her room. “REEENAAAA! You okay in there?! It’s been like half an hour since your alarm went off!” Wait, her alarm was still on? Shoot, with their extended break she’d need to change that. At the very least, if the electronic alarm didn’t wake her, she could always rely on the Pearl alarm. “MAREEEEEENAAAAA!” Speak of the devil.

“Pearlie pleeease, you’re going to wake the world if you scream any louder. Gimme' fifteen.” The tap-tap-tap of Pearl’s footsteps signaled her exit to the kitchen, as Marina forced herself to stumble over to the mirror leaning against the wall. Woof. her tentacles were all over the place, and some of her clothes were barely hanging on. Marina sifted through her wardrobe, setting aside her idol costume, her rap outfit, and an assortment of 3-star equipment. A quick change later, and the clothes from yesterday had been tossed to a hamper in exchange for a lazy hoodie and cargo shorts. It wasn’t the freshest outfit, but for the meager act of eating breakfast, it’d do. Marina grabbed her laptop from the nightstand and opened the door out into the apartment proper.

Pearl had already set some bread to be toasted, and had taken out her personal jar of Swee-Nut. “There you are, you garbage fire of an Octarian. What kept you?” Marina shrugged, and grabbed a box of Kelp Flakes from the cupboard. After that horrid sleep, she was going to have a healthy breakfast, one that was not filled with sugar, Pearl. As she poured herself a glass of OJ, Marina popped open the laptop, and logged onto The Light. Pearl slathered her vile sugar spread over the toast, and sat down beside Marina. “Whatcha doin’?”

Marina tapped away at her keys, responding without looking away. “We need to establish proper communication with everyone. I managed to get Fiona’s number, but if we want to do this proper, I’m going to setup a group chat for us.” Marina clicked the appropriate button, and a chat window popped up:

==========<Dome Saviour Squad Group Chatroom>==========

“And done! I’ll invite Ikkan and handle things from there. What else do we need to do?” Pearl took a bite of her toast, and Marina swore she saw her pupils dilate the second the Swee-Nut touched her tongue.

Pearl swallowed, and leant back in her chair. “Right now, we got a week or two to contact our producer, create music, practice our choreography, get everyone organized, and nab a Zapfish.” Pearl took another bite of her toast before continuing. “We’ll also need to get transportation ready, as we’ll pretty much be dragging 10 people and a ton of band equipment over a mountain. You think the heli will do for that?” Marina stroked her chin. The big twin-rotor helicopter could easily carry the Octo squad there, but any more than that could cripple the thing, and the last thing she wanted was to harm such a lovely machine.

“Bottom Feeders has a van, so they can drive all their stuff over, while the rest of us will settle on the helicopter.” Pearl nodded, popping the last corner of toast into her mouth. “Also, if we’re going to be in Octo Valley, you’re going to have to get back into learning Octarian.”

Pearl snapped her fingers. “True that. Don’t want to be the odd one out. Speaking of which…” Pearl grabbed her phone from her pocket, swiping it open as she continued. “You got Warabi’s number? I think we can get some stuff done today.” Marina nodded, sliding her own phone to Pearl as she tapped away. The familiar ping of a notification grabbed her attention:

>//M O D ikkan (I)// has entered the chat
9:50 - /M O D /ikkan (I)//
present and accounted for. glad to see you like the name.
9:50 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
It has a certain ring to it, I have to admit. Is Warabi around?
9:50 - //M O D ikkan (I)//
He’s tuckerd out from yesterday, but he’s up. I told him about the group chat, and he’s grabbing his phone now.
>//sp1neless (O)// has entered the chat
9:51 - //sp1neless (O)//
Hey Marina! Wazgood?
9:51 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
All good over here. I hear that Pearl wants to hang out with you today, you busy?
9:51 - //sp1neless (O)//
Well, wanted to get working on a new song, but I can hang with P for a bit, yeah.
9:51 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
Great! I’m going to be working on my stuff today as well, along with getting Bottom Feeders into the loop. Have fun!~

As Marina closed her laptop, Pearl had cleaned herself up, and was putting her coat on by the door. “Heading out already?”

“Yeah. You good to hold down the fort?”

“I’ll do what I can. Stay safe!” With that, the door slammed close, leaving Marina alone. Alright, with Pearl gone, it was time to get some things prepared. Marina drank the last bit of milk from her cereal, and went back into her room. Opening her closet and sliding aside her clothes, a large chest was revealed beneath all of her shirts and jackets. Marina let a grunt escape her as the chest was dragged out to the center of her room. As she undid the clasps and opened the lid, time seemed to slow as she spied the familiar glint of steel inside.

The chest was filled with much of her old Octarian equipment, still collecting dust from years ago. As much as Marina wanted to leave all of this junk behind, they were going into the belly of the beast, and she’d need to look the part. Marina reached down and grabbed the metal goggles that she had neglected for so long. All Octarian soldiers had a pair, for communication and strategizing, and even some civilians wore them, if they could get their hands on them. However, according to Three and Eight, the soldiers had switched to a newer, sleeker sunglasses design, making these old things a piece of the past.

Marina undid the buckle on the back, and slowly pulled the goggles up to her face. The soft padding pressed against her face, getting tighter as she pulled the strap. Despite their tactical advantages, when deactivated, the lesser field of vision was undeniably annoying, and Marina was curious as to how the sunglasses would improve things. Alright, breath, breeeeath, you can do this. “Activate. Code Maelstrom.” All at once, the heads-up display began to light up, and a low, pulsing sound began to play in her ears. As soon as the sound reached her, Marina started feeling woozy, but she was ready. “O… override! Code Hyperfresh!” The sound suddenly cut, making her disoriented as she looked around the room. Unlike the Hypnoshades, designed to take complete control over someone and keep them under, her old goggles had more of a numbing effect, making one more open to suggestions to pre-programmed superiors. A simple system, but one that kept it's people in line. Once Marina had gotten to the surface, mind free thanks to the Inkantation, she had programmed an override into the goggles, allowing her to use them as she saw fit. The display featured a variety of widgets, including time, a motion sensor, and options for night and thermal vision. Good for night ops, such as... stealing Zapfish. Getting up off the floor, Marina attempted to walk around the room, stumbling and fumbling as she tried to get her bearings. It had been a long time since her vision had been filled with information.

After she had become satisfied with her capacity to walk, Marina knelt back over the chest. Next item: her old Octoshot. She let her fingers curl around the grip as she lifted it out, it’s edges worn down over time. Unlike the goggles, absolutely nothing had changed around the Octoshot. It was still just a simpler Splattershot, nothing fancy about it. Perfect for a soldier, one of thousands. Looking to her mirror, Marina got up, adopting a fighting stance, Octoshot ready to fire at her reflection. It would’ve looked quite threatening to any old agent back in the day, but Marina’s sloven outfit was not doing it any justice. She had no beef with the standard issue, but once she had discovered Brellas on the surface, she had a new love. According to Eight, the funky teal Octolings did have SplatBrellas, but she was unaware if the Octarians caught on to trends as fast as a telephone in a research facility.

Underneath her weapon, her old armour. Well, “armour” was an overstatement. It was little more than a molded piece of sheet metal held in place by thick brown straps, which even then only covered the chest. You want protection for your stomach? Haha! Too bad. You get an undershirt. Compared to the prototype “Null” armour Eight had showed her from the test facilities, it was frankly pathetic. Tossing the hoodie aside, Marina adjusted the straps of the chestpiece so they could fit her adult self, and slid into it. The undershirt was, admittedly, a little smelly, which had to be fixed, but it was comfy and airy. Looking into the mirror, she now looked like a proper Octoling soldier, primed to fight. Well… she would look like that if she was a few inches shorter and lost a little weight. But hey, what can you do.

A few items remained under the armour, including a few old meal tickets from Sector 4’s mess hall, a certificate or two, her Octo Canyon ID card, and a pair of photographs. The first photo was just a head shot of DJ Octavio in shuttershades, tentacles crossed. There was no way Marina was going to let that creep into her life anymore, and the photo was tossed aside. The second showed Marina, several years younger, in a lab coat, along with several other Octarians in similar gear, all smiling in front of a Mark I Flooder. Though the photo had faded somewhat, the words “(Congrats Flooder Team)!” written in marker were still clear as day, and Marina could make out some of the faces.

Marina herself stood in the center, smile beaming at the camera. Beside her was Clara, her assistant, and while being in weapons development restricted just what one could do with their spare time, she was the closest thing to a friend Marina had had. On their flanks was Rita, Felix, Dew, Mack, and that one dude in the back who’s name she could never remember, all highly-achieving engineers tasked with the development of an efficient turf clearer like no other. Memories, pun entirely intended, came flooding back to her, and she couldn’t help but crack a slight smile as she lay on the floor of her room, fully decked out in Octarian gear. The domes were terrible, crumbling messes full of soldiers and powerless outlets, mind numbing music and propaganda. But, if she could’ve brought her friends with her when she escaped, she absolutely would have, no matter the risk.

Marina continued to reminisce for what felt like days, but alas, duty calls. She got up, stowed everything but the goggles back in the chest, and slid it back into the bowels of her closet. Sliding the hoodie back on, Marina decided to test if her goggles still did their job. “Maelstrom, status.” Over her left eye appeared a small list of statistics, showing a healthy, fight-ready Marina. Perfect. Next: “Maelstrom, thermal.” The whine of a bootup filled her ears, as the light green of her room had turned to deep blues and greens of a thermal image. Alright, what else… “Maelstrom, zoom 3.” Marina couldn’t help but feel a little ill as her sight was pulled forward for a 3X zoom. Marina had never touched a charger, and as an engineer was never used for recon, so there was little use for the feature, and she hadn’t gotten used to it. Marina tried to pull off a few more commands as she reached for her laptop once more. The concert was still in the planning phase, so she'd try to contact a few more people and get the word out. First on the agenda...

Marina
Heeeey, you there G?
Glenna Nailra
omg Maria! It's been aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaages! How are you?

Glenna was the chill vocalist and synth player of Chirpy Chips, a chiptune-style band that was pretty popular. Marina and Glenna had become good friends, and had even collabed once or twice. She was a pretty laid-back anemone, but... she seemed too laid back, often missing practice, slurring her words. and holding a suspiciously silent and still fish in her hair. Marina didn't want to mention it, but if the poor thing falls out during a concert, that's a scandal and a half for everyone involved.

Marina
I've been good. I wanted to text you about a big gig we've got coming up. We're going to be working with Diss-pair and Bottom Feeders, but we could use more people. If you can, maybe bring your group by the square whenever you're free?
Glenna Nailra
ooooooooooo. lemme go ask Noijī.

As Marina waited for her friend, she opened up The Light. If this was official, she felt it was time to pull the trigger and let the world know.

10:16 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)// !!!BIG ANNOUNCEMENT FOLLOW UP!!! (S_0_)
Hey all, Marina again! About that big concert, I think it's about time I let y'all in on a little secret >:}! Though we're still in the early planning phases and getting people together, the location that was presented to us was... get this... O C T O V A L L E Y!!! The intention is to get tourism and investment in the domes, and we're going to need YOUR HELP! The situation and facts are still fairly vague, but a few things I'd suggest:
- (O) See if you still have your ID Card. No matter the pain attached to it, it'll make getting in a lot smoother.
- (I) Try to get some help from your Octarian friends to learn Octarian. Even a few phrases will help!
- (Oth) The Domes of Octo Valley are a far cry from the splendor that is Inkopolis, and not only will transport for non-Inklings/Octolings be difficult, but please exercise respect, and know that many Octarians have not even seen certain species.
I'll keep everyone posted as this develops! This is a big opportunity, not only for us, but for Octarians as a whole! Don't Get Cooked! Stay Off The Hook!

Marina felt nervous as the post popped up on the feed, just staring at the text as her clock ticked away. There were plenty of Octarians like Warabi who wouldn't be able to even consider going back. Would they hate her for this? Would they call her a traitor? Again? Some kind of, double-traitor? No. It had to be done. Her worries were proven unnecessary, as the first replies began rolling on screen.

>10:17 - //H34rtBr34k3r (O)//
YOOOOOOOOOOOO Let's go! My Inkling friends are going to FLIP!
>10:17 - //phunkzilla (I)//
uhhhh. (Neet)? Shoot, I gotta get practice
>10:17 - //semAnta (I)//
More OTH! Booyah! i'll go anywhere for you guys!
>10:17 - //Snappes (C)//
Think they'll be cool with a crab? I'd love to check the place out.
>10:18 - //Kettle8Os (O)//
I get to see my friends again, and watch an Off The Hook concert? That would be incredible! I think I still have my ID card in my closet somewhere.

So it was alright. Encouragement and cheers kept flooding in, cephalopods and crustaceans and anemones alike. More than deserters, more than rebels, they were her fans, and no amount of Octavio's trash would change that. In the bliss of her relief, Marina nearly missed the reply from Glenna.

Glenna Nailra
kay, it's a nooooooooooo. im going off with Raaaaaai for a trip, and Noijī's sick. sooooory

Shoot. Well, that's another of their options down. Marina knew that they shouldn't overdo it, but the more the merrier, and the more variety in the Octarian's exposure to surface music the better. Well, if three-quarters of the band were away and Glenna couldn't be there to collab, then nothing could be done.

Marina
It's alright, thanks for checking! Have a fun trip!
Glenna Nailra
yaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

Marina sighed, shutting off her phone. She was especially glad that Glenna had such good friends, because there was no way that anemone could get anything done otherwise. Marina looked back up at the clock: 10:20. She still had plenty of time to get to work on music and preparations. The fans were ready, her friends wer ready. The Dome Saviour Squad had a week to prepare, two tops, and none of that would be wasted. Let's do this.

Chapter Text

...

The car pulled to a stop in front of Ikkan’s place, still just as lame-looking on the outside as it was yesterday. Never trust a book by it's cover, especially when that book holds such god-like armchairs. Pearl whipped out her phone and opened up her text convo with Warabi:

MC PRINCESS
YOOOO YA RIDES OUT FRONT NERD
Octoedgelord
Loud evrn in text, eh? Ill be out in a sc
MC PRINCESS
Cash, we got work to do

The door to the house creaked open as Warabi jogged out onto the stone path, now clad in a leather jacket and jeans. It was a good look for him. Or her. Warabi’s hair and voice didn’t provide much of a hint, and at this point, Pearl was too afraid to ask. They were enough of a dudebro that she had decided to stick to him.

Warabi popped open the door, ducking under the roof due to her freaky Octo-height. “Ahhh, feels a lot better to sit up here than with a buncha' groggy dudes layin’ on me. What’re we doin’ today P?" Straight to the point. Pearl was starting to like this guy.

“First, we’re gonna’ grab some snacks. Crucial step, very important.” Warabi nodded, the prospect of food uniting all species. “Next, one of the things we’ll be needing for this gig is a Zapfish, so we’re gonna’ go meet up with my pop at his place.” Mostly she had wanted to check up on her dad, see how he was doing, but she knew that when the need arose, the summer boat could go powerless for a while.

Warabi gave a look like a curious jellyfish, one that Pearl had seen all too often in Marina. “We’re getting a Zapfish? Like... without stealing it?” The general concept of what must’ve transmitted through her face pretty well, as Warabi quickly backpedaled. “I-I mean, aren’t they super rare?!”

“No! Well, they are pretty rare, but my family’s got a couple to their name, and a bit of persuasion is going to net us some fishy gold, ya dig?” Zapfish had really weird growing conditions, and while they lived super long, getting them to reproduce was an absolute nightmare, or so she had been told in high-school Biology. As Pearl put the car in Drive and pulled away from the sidewalk, Warabi leant back in his seat in thought.

“Is that it though? Anything else?”

“Weeell… I was hoping you could kickstart me on my Octarian. Marina’s a pretty fresh teacher, but sometimes she can be boooring.” Warabi scratched his chin, then shrugged.

“Meh. Usually Ikkan teaches me things, but I’ll give you a hand. Hey, mind if I turn on the radio?”

“Go for it man, slosher controls the music.” Warabi reached for the dash, flipping through stations. As the music and news went by, Pearl managed to catch a few snippets here and there of juicy info.

“Reports show that the ‘outer sucker’ trend has nearly-”
“Despite her absence, Callie does intend to finish-”
“Tentatek. Fresh, sturdy, reliable, and-”
“Grizzco representative Sheila Mc-”

“Ah, here it is!” Warabi had tuned into the next station just as the song playing had reached it’s end. A second passed before a sick guitar riff ripped through the car, catching even Pearl off guard as a gruff voice hyped it’s listeners up. No way, it can’t be-

“ROCK ON WITH 93.2 THE SHELL! ONLY THE HARDEST WILL DO!” Oh snap! Marina never let her listen to this station!

Pearl struggled to keep her eyes on the road as she leaned towards Warabi. “You listen to The Shell?!” Warabi only gave a sly smile, as the next absolute banger began to play. “This station was all I listened to before I met Marina!” This noise will rot your brain Pearl! I’m going to go deaf Pearl! It’s just screaming Pearl! Wah wah wah! Well guess what Marina!? I got the cooler Octoling in my passenger seat today! Hahahaha!

“Hell yeah man!” Warabi’s voice dropped, giving it the low rumble of a metal singer. “THE SHELL GOT THE SOOOUL-” Oh we doin’ this? Oh we doin’ this.

“OF HARD ROCK AND ROOOLL!” Never challenge the Speaker-Breaker to a sing-off son! Warabi looked taken aback at first, but after a bit of friendly laughter, the pair of metal-heads got into the music, forgetting about the worries of the day. Pearl was a rapper, and she could hit those growling notes just as good as any other college kid at a talent show, but Warabi seemed made for this stuff, growling and screaming like there was no tomorrow. The two were making quite a scene too, as every stoplight had a new reaction: a fishfolk couple who looked at them like they were crazy, a disgruntled middle-aged Inkling in an SUV that flipped them the bird, and one magical moment where a pair of Octolings had a messy sing-along with them from their truck.

The 30-minute trip to the closest Mako-Mart felt like it was over in seconds, as Pearl managed to slide in through the crowded lot to the single open space she could find. The two of them got out of the car, Warabi donning a slick pair of aviators to keep out the morning sun. Stylish. Pearl needed a pair of those. Mako-Mart was incredibly busy, even for a Tuesday, as all sorts of people made their way around and through the entrance. The stage rotation didn’t have Mako-Mart on until 2 in the afternoon, so the two rockers had all the time in the world to get snacks, the most crucial step of any operation.

As a blast of warm air greeted them as they walked inside, Pearl nudged Warabi in the ribs to get his attention. “So, Octoboy, whaddya wanna get, snack-wise?” Warabi contemplated for a moment as Pearl went to grab a basket.

“For drinks, lets just stick with some fruit juice or water, no sodas or anything.” Oh right, healthy boy here with his blasphemous Diet Tentakle Grape. “...Maybe some popcorn? What do you think?” Ah yes. Popcorn. Master of fingerfoods, bane of dentists. That’d do nicely for their lil’ shindig.

“Sounds like a plan. Don’t want to stuff ourselves before lunch. Let’s roll.” Warabi nodded, and the two of them dove into the crowded shop.

...

Half an hour later, and Pearl's mood had significantly soured, and it had nothing to do with the popcorn bag twice her size she was hauling back to the car. They had seen pastries, sweets, and all kinds of stuff, but nooOOoo, he’s on a sUgArlEss diiIIiiet, he's trying to cut down on sweeEEets. Ugh. They had finally gotten a huge bag of boring, salted popcorn without butter or flavoring, but popcorn nonetheless. Warabi, carrying a 12 pack of sugar-fucking-free fruit punch in his arms like a wittle baby, was snorting out laughter as he watched what looked like a bag of popcorn with legs. “You, uh, like, want me to carry that?”

Pearl wanted to spin around dramatically and glare at Warabi, but the popcorn was more important than her theatrics. “I’m fine, ya big freak. How do you Octolings get so fuckin’ tall anyway?”

Warabi rubbed the back of his neck, a bit off-put by her change of tone, before quickly putting his hand back under the shaking 12-pack. “I guess it’s genetic? Maybe we’re just overcompensating for our 2 less limbs, eh?” He shrugged his shoulders, frown appearing towards the grumpy popcorn bag. “Hell, I should be asking you the opposite. Ikkan’s my height, but I’m like a freakin’ head taller than every other squid around me, and you’re even shorter.”

This fuckin- sonova- UGH, fine. “I… I’m special. Not the good kind of special, just… fuckin' special. I got to see your dark past, but if we’re going to be friends, you’re going to shut up, right now.” She’d tell him. Not today though.

Warabi looked concerned, but knew that he had overstepped a boundary. “Um… r-right. Sorry, I get it.” Bam, master wordsmith Pearl dodges fucking personal trauma again! Pearl gave an angry nod, and Tall and Short went back to their trek through the lot. Both corn and drink were haphazardly tossed into the back seat, as the two took their seats. Pearl silently seethed in the drivers seat, not looking at a still concerned Warabi, trying to figure out how best to comfort her new friend.

“Hey-” At the sudden interjection, Pearl whipped around, ready to tell this little jerk what for, and got a face full of hand in the process. Wait, when did Warabi put his hand on her shoulder? She… she couldn’t even feel it… just a… tingle… where the fucking hand should be! Wha- Fu- No-no-no...

…

…….

“... Only time will tell Mr. Hime. She’ll be treated for shock and given extensive therapy, but we’re not quite sure how deep this goes mentally.” Mr. Hime? Dad? Pearl struggled to open her eyes, the world a blur around her. Whoa, the room was so white… this wasn’t the community center… did she win? There was some guy in a white coat and goofy blue mustache standing over her, Dad with his silver tentacles and fancy suit, and another funky looking squid with red tentacles. Who was she?

“... And the physical? She can still sing and Turf, am I correct doctor?” Doctor? But her checkup wasn’t for another few months... And what’s physical mean?

“... She’ll live. Nothing damaging to locomotion or speech, she’ll not lose any of her signature volume, I’ll tell you that much. However, I’m afraid she did not escape entirely unscathed.” Locomotion? Like a train? And were they talking about her? Was this her dying? Pearl didn’t feel very good all of a sudden, but her body didn’t seem to do what she wanted to do. She was so tired.

Dad moved towards the bed, face streaked with tears, while the red person stood at the foot of it, still staring at her. It was really creepy. “Tell me, What will it cost?”

The doctor flipped over a sheet of paper, as he let out a sad sigh. “T-the shock struck her just below the neck, making it a miracle that she’s still going. But… her shoulders took the brunt of the hit, plenty of burns, and fried her nerve endings. The burns will heal, the pain will disappear, but the sense of touch in her shoulders is gone, and there will be a scar, I’m afraid… ”

Dad let his head drop, hiding his face from the rest of the room. “You’re not done, are you?”

The doctor adjusted his collar, cleared his throat, and continued. “A-as invertebrates, we do not have a spinal column to rely on for growth. With the damage to the nervous system... “ He paced to the other side of the room, seemingly ignoring the still-staring red weirdo. “I’m… sorry, Mr. Hime. She’ll mature and grow stronger, but that’s as tall as she’s going to get.”

What? B-but she had to get taller! Dad promised! I-if she didn’t get taller, she couldn’t go on the Ferris wheel at Wahoo World! She wouldn't be able to get as big as all her friends! She… she… was so tired. The room was starting to spin as Pearl kept trying to force her eyes open. While her Dad began to sob, the red lady finally began to move, coming up to the side of the bed and leaning towards “Pearl?”

Wh-what? Who are you? What do you want? Pearl just wanted to… to rest…

“PEARL!”

Pearl blinked. Her vision much clearer now, she was staring Warabi directly in the eyes, his hands clutching her arms from the passenger seat of her car. It was late winter, they were in the Mako-Mart parking lot, and they were going to see her father for the first time in years.

A look of sheer relief came over Warabi’s face as he let go of Pearl, long arms still stretched as if she would shatter any moment. “Holy… holy fucking shit dude, w-what the hell was that?! I- I touched your shoulder and you just, like, fucking broke man! And you just- just started crying, right there! I was shaking and shaking you awake but you’ve been out for minutes!” Pearl didn’t raise a hand to her face to check for her tears. She could feel the moisture on her cheek. She could feel it.

Instead, she used the sleeve of her jacket to wipe it away. “I’m… I’m good now. Sorry-” Warabi raised a hand to stop her, and reached behind his seat to grab the first of their drinks. The tab was popped open, and the can of juice was thrust into her hands.

Pearl let her hands caress the cold aluminum as Warabi folded his arms. “Cowshit, no. Drink first, Trauma later… or never. Whatever.” She obliged, drinking down the unsweetened liquid. Disgusting. She loved it. Warabi continued. “No numbers, no shoulder-touching, no garbage music, no crying. We’re going to meet your dad, and we’re going to be legally taking a Zapfish from him. Got it?” Pearl nodded meekly in agreement. The two of them couldn’t keep doing this. She put her can into the cupholder, her other hand smoothing over the leather steering wheel. Texture. Feeling.

She had to be sure. “Punch me in the face.”

Warabi looked at her like she was crazy. Which, in all honesty, was a fair judgement. “W-what? Pearl-”

Pearl glared at Warabi. “I have to know. Do it.” The Octoling looked at her, then to his hands, then to his fists, then back to Pearl. Without a word, a right hook slammed into her cheek, somehow managing to still surprise Pearl even though she asked for it. Pain. It wasn’t a good feeling, something anyone wanted, save for some internet freaks, but it was still a touch, a feeling.

Pearl fumbled a bit to regain her balance, focusing on Warabi as he covered his face with his hands, regretting what he’d done. But it was alright. MC Princess was back. “P-Pearl? I wasn’t too hard was I?”

“No, no I’m good, I’m good, I’m back. Thank you.” Warabi gave the biggest sigh of relief that Pearl had ever heard, but no mention of it was made as Pearl began to pull out of the lot, beginning the journey to the family home.

Conversation was light and awkward between the two as the car left the main city and moved into the outskirts. The houses were becoming fewer as the road stretched on and on, forcing them to break out another can of juice for Warabi and begin to munch on the bore-corn. Eventually, the Hime estate came into view, the white columns of it’s porch looming above the hedges that acted as a natural fence for the large property. Though Pearl was looking at the house, she could practically hear Warabi’s jaw drop. “Holy shit, your dad lives in a mansion?! No wonder he’s got a bunch of rare power sources just fuckin’, like, lying around!”

Pearl let her smugness get to her, forgetting about her breakdown as a wide grin broke across her face. “Yeah, he’s kind of a big deal in Inkopolis. Owns a lot of shares in the local businesses and much more in Splat Battle brands.” The car pulled into a short portion of driveway, the entrance proper cut off by a large gate. Beside the drivers-side window was an intercom, which Pearl activated. “Heya, it’s Pearl! Is Pops in?

A few seconds passed before a familiar crackly, cheery voice came from the other end. “Pearl?! Is that you? Come on in, I’ll open the gate for you.” As the intercom shut off, the gates slowly groaned open, and Pearl let the car cruise inside. Warabi simply sat dumbfounded as he did his best to take everything in. The route up to the front door was covered in evergreens and leaf-less trees, while the front of the house was an imposing sight for someone who was holed up in a place like Ikkan’s. In front of the porch was a large fountain, just as she had last seen it, with a stone Inkling soldier raising a Bamboozler to the sky. Even the chip in the left cheek and missing left eye was still there. Either Dad was sticking to authenticity, or he was getting lazy.

The car stopped just off from the front door, and the pair got out, Warabi gawking at the whole thing. Before Pearl could gloat, the front door was thrown open, a woman in a maid outfit and round rimmed glasses running outside, her large, neon green ponytail bouncing behind her.“Peeearl! It’s been so long!” Bella almost tackled her as Pearl was hugged to death, feet dangling off the ground. The maid dropped her, only just noticing Warabi’s presence. She straightened her dress out, before dipping into a curtsie. “I’m terribly sorry! My name is Bella, I’m the Hime family’s maid. I was unaware that Pearl had brought company!”

Warabi stood awkwardly, unable to process the situation, before instinctively awkwardly saluting. “Um… Warabi. Nice to, uh, meet you.” Sheesh, you’ve been up here for a year or something and you’re still fumbling greetings like a moron?

Bella gave him a strange look, but shook it off like a professional. “Well, come on in, the both of you, it’s cold out here.” The three of them followed Bella, her ponytail continuing to bob as she walked into the foyer of the house. The large room, clad in a kinda bluh dark green paint, opened up into the other rooms, with an enormous spiral staircase leading up to the second floor. Once they had taken their shoes and jackets off, the house was almost entirely silent, save for the tapping of Bella’s dress shoes and the occasional “Wooow…” from Warabi. The group were led through a large dining room, covered in fine silverware likely meant for a big dinner tonight, and finally into a small living room, fire burning brightly in it’s place, with a figure in one of the two comfy armchairs reading a paper, their back turned.

Bella cleared her throat, signalling their presence. “Mr. Hime? You have some company.”

Dad closed his paper, sighing and rising from his chair. “Bella, please, I told you that we had to prepare for th-” His eyes widened at the sight of Pearl. “Princess!” Pearl was not afraid to admit that an awesome hug was had. “It’s been so long! Are you doing well? I hear the last Splatfest went along nicely!”

The two of them finally separated, Pearl looking up into the golden eyes of her father. “I’ve been doing great Dad! Marina’s still a fresh roommate, and even though I lost the Splatfest, we’ve got us a big gig booked that we need your help for!” Dad nodded understandingly, motioning for the two of them to join him by the fire, as Bella left them to continue her… whatever the hell she was doing. With only two seats, Warabi simply folded his legs on the floor next to her, catching the attention of Mr. Hime.

“Are you another friend of Pearl’s? I don’t believe we’ve met.” Warabi, still trying to take in everything, snapped out of his waking dream at the acknowledgement.

“Oh! Uh, my name is Warabi. We’ve just- um, met recently, and, uh, we’ll…” Woof. Ya meet one guy in a suit and suddenly all your social skills evaporate.

Pearl butted in. “She’s from another band. We’re going to be performing together for this but…” Alright, Princess Pearl time is over, time for Business Pearl. “But we’re going to need extra funding. Funding I’m hoping you can provide” Pearl’s father didn’t get to sit in that chair by doing nothing, and was immediately wise to the change in tone, shifting in his chair and crossing his legs.

“A collaborative effort? Interesting, now, what kind of ‘funding’ are we talking about here?”

Time to let Judd out of the bag. “One Zapfish.” Pearl could almost see him as the final boss of some obscure video game, health bar and everything, as Loving Dad turned into Mr. Hime, Master of Business. Game time pops, let’s do this.

Mr. Hime, Lord of Investment
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MC Princess, Rapmaster
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“I’ve seen and heard many, if not all of your shows, Princess. Not once have you come to me like this. What’s so different this time?” Alright, set up. Lay it easy on him.

“Dad, I’m sure you know of the Octarians, yes?” Start with a question, let’s go. Mr. Hime raised an accusatory eyebrow, one that seared into Pearl’s soul. Regrettably, before even saying anything, Pearl knew that the Lord of Investment would win this one.

“Know of them? Not only have I made purchases of Octarian merchandise stocks, not only was this house a bastion of defence in the Great Turf War, but if I’m not mistaken…” Mr. Hime said, turning to Warabi. “... there is one of them sitting on the floor of my sitting room.” Warabi shifted uncomfortably under Mr. Hime’s authoritative glare. In classic Dad fashion, he wasn’t mad; just disappointed.

Mr. Hime, Lord of Investment
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MC Princess, Rapmaster
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Keep it going P, no retreat. “Yeah, Warabi is an Octoling, but it shouldn’t matter. Not anymore.” The Lord turned his attention back to Pearl, poker face back in play. “For how much you are used to the Octarian people, how much do we know about their current situation?”

Dad leaned in, intrigued. “All I know is that more Octarians are coming up from their homes in Mount Nantai. Judging by your tone however, I’m missing the big picture here?” A draw, but a slight victory for the rapmaster! Full forward!

“The ‘homes’ of the Octarians? Are enormous, climate controlled domes deep underground. And with everyone leaving? These domes are dying, dad. The literal structure of their entire society is falling apart. And we’ve been approached by the Octarians to help.” That got his attention. Point Pee-Dubya! Woomy!

Mr. Hime, Lord of Investment
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MC Princess, Rapmaster
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“And they want a zapfish. Just one.” Dad got up from his chair, beginning to pace in front of the fire. Power move, mad respect. “Why? Considering how still unknown Octolings are, just how much communication are you having with them?” An accusation disguised as a question, clever pops, but not clever enough!

“The Octarians came to us. I don’t know a bunch about Octo Valley, aside from what Marina tells me, but things have changed.” Dad stopped pacing, and stepped beside the fireplace, pointing towards the painting above it, depicting the shadow of an male Inkling among a blazing wreck Though difficult to make out through the smoke, Pearl could just make out the shape of a cooking pot on his head and the GTW-Era Slosher in his hand..

“Do you know who this is?” Pearl wasn’t entirely sure, but she had backup, as Warabi clapped a hand to his forehead.

“Hime… This house... “ Warabi outstretched her legs, resting against the side of Pearl’s armchair. “Shit. Mathias Hime was your father, wasn’t he?” Who? Pearl wasn’t really big on the family history. Call her a bad daughter, but history bored her, plain and simple

Mr. Hime nodded. “Grandfather. So you do know. And now you understand why this is difficult. The very house you sit in was built on the ruins of Stonestream Citadel, the first line of defence in the Great Turf War from the Octarians streaming down the mountain towards Inkopolis.” Scratch that last comment, that actually sounded dope. Well, history was still boring, but whatever.

Warabi rose, seeming to slowly piece the story together in his head. “I’ve heard only the stories in history classes. 200 soldiers went down the cliff, Brushes, Rollers, Sloshers, even a few coveted Heavy Splatlings.” Warabi paused for a moment, before getting his thoughts back together. “Three? No, Two came back, the Citadel burnt to the ground, and it’s sole protector in their arms, breathless.” Oh. Shit.

Mr. Hime said nothing for a while, staring into the fire, before replying, his voice shallow. “500. It was 500 Octolings. 125 Splatoons, one elite each. The Citadel crumbled from the sheer force of the attack, and Mathias, instead of being splatted and humiliated, let the building collapse on himself. No respawn.” With that, Pearl’s father dropped back into the chair, eyes locked on Warabi. The cards had been laid out, and by bringing family into it, he had made it personal.

Mr. Hime, Lord of Investment
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P & W, Metal Warriors of Mental Trauma
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Pearl pondered what next to say, but Warabi was once again on top of things. You go man! Get him through diplomacy and negotiation! “Whoa whoa, Mathias wasn’t fully gone! His body was crushed and burned, but the last two Octolings had carried him back for medical assistance, however hopeless. Even with our loss streak, the Octarians still recognise the achievements of Inklings, and we weren’t monsters! One, single Zapfish for the Octarians, and this fragile peace can be mended! Our concert is going to bring money and Inklings into the domes, don’t you want to be connected to a society’s revival?”

If the speech had at all moved Mr. Hime, he was not showing it, now looking fairly cross. “You expect me to throw a rare source of power, worth millions, to the shuffling husk of a nation of thieves and aggressors? I expect one good reason, right here, right now, or you will get nothing from me.” Warabi looked to Pearl, concerned that their plan may fall apart any moment. Come on, think! Then, just like that, Warabi walked to the fire and sat down right beside Mr. Hime on the floor.

“DJ Octavio has been imprisoned for his crimes of theft and aggression, the people are free of his tyrannical control. And I’d say that same picture of one Lt. Hime in the Museum of Dome V3-21 are more than telling of the Octarian attitude towards Inklings these days. It’s time for change Mr. Hime.” No reaction. Nothing. Pearl was almost ready to throw in the towel as Dad got up, eyes still glued to Warabi, and made his way to the door, until…

“Give some time… to think about this, Princess. You two can explore if you want, call for Bella if you need anything” Victory? Maybe? Jury’s out, Pearl decided, as the pair watched Dad leave the room.

Mr. Hime, Lord of Investment
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P & W, Metal Warriors of Mental Trauma
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Warabi let out another sigh of relief. He did that a lot, huh. “Wow, that was… something. Think that’s a yes?”

Pearl could only shake her head, knowing how poker-faced Dad became in his dealings. “It’s a maybe, as far as I know, but don’t get your hopes up. Still, how do you know so much about our history and junk?”

Warabi shrugged. He did that a lot too. "Wasn’t really my thing, but classes were mandatory back in the domes, and once Octavio was failed and got captured, the topics started being more… open, I guess?” Powerless militaristic poverty? Pearl could live with that, she was one tough cookie. But mandatory history classes?! Ugh, she could now clearly see why the Octarians wanted out.

Pearl got up our of the chair, stretching her arms from all the sitting around. “Well, we’ll just have to wait and see. Wanna’ take a look around the place with me?”

Warabi stretched his legs and made for the door, mood somewhat lifted at the prospect of exploring. "Hell yeah man. This place is huuuge, and we've only been on the first floor!" Pearl couldn't help but agree. As much as she loved her apartment, there was no way it could compare to the freedom she felt when she was young, just running and screaming all over the place while Bella tried and failed to keep her from breaking things. As the two left the living room and made their way back to the foyer, Pearl was hit with a sudden realisation.

"Yo, if we head upstairs, there's a great view of Mount Nantai from the deck up there." Warabi nodded in agreement, as he followed closely behind up the large spiral steps. The whole place was just as Pearl had left it, save for a few minor changes. The door to her old room had been left ajar, and a quick peek inside revealed nothing more than dusty cardboard boxes and a new coat of paint, a storage room, she guessed. It had been quite the host of what Marina called the "Pearl Touch", tons of pretty pink and stuffies all over the place. Pearl tried to be humble, she really did, but maaan money was good. A few spare guest rooms, the upstairs bathroom, and a conference room passed them as they continued down the hall, before reaching a pair of glass doors leading to the deck. Nothing had changed with the 2nd floor deck, save for a different set of flowers in the pots, and in the noon-day sun, the mountain was a gorgeous sight.

Warabi simply stood in the door frame, in awe at the sight. "Wooooow... That is something, isn't it? Huh, guess you could say I can see my house from here, eh?" Pearl let a smug grin grow on her as she moved behind one of the lounge chairs to retrieve a long box. Time to blow this kid's mind. "What's that?"

"Telescope. Wanna' get a closer look at the mountain?" Got him, Warabi's eyes growing to dinner-plate-size. The telescope was a gift for her 10th birthday, and she was glad to see it still sitting right where she left it. Pearl doubted that Dad used it for anything, but Bella might've given a peek from time to time, as it was still in good condition. After setting it up, Pearl stepped aside, presenting the completed telescope to the giddy Octoling. "Be my guest."

Warabi bent over to look into the eyepiece, once again flexing that height of his, and slowly adjusted the focus. "Yooooo, this is crazy! I can see the trees! Every one of them! And there's a bird over there, a patch of snow, an Octarian Recon Te-"

Wait what. "Wait, what?"

Warabi's face turned cold, steadying the telescope and adjusting the nobs. "Shit. Shit shit shit, that's a full Recon Splatoon. And they've got a telescope too."

Pearl had to see this. If this house used to be an old bunker, and the Octarians were spying on them, this could be trouble. "Gimme' that! Lemme' see!" With a little adjusting, Pearl could make out 4 figures in on the top of one of the hills that surrounded Mount Nantai, clad in sunglasses, sunhats, and leather-clothing. On the ground around them lay various crates and equipment, including what looked like a radio. Sure enough, one of the figures was surveying the area through some form of telescope, similar in shape to Pearl's. "Uh oh. What are we going to do? You know more about Octo-stuff, how do we get them to shove off without letting my Dad know?"

Warabi pondered for a bit, before reaching into his pockets and retrieving a thin strip of shiny stuff from his wallet. "Hold up. I gotta' credit-card mirror in here. We signal 'em with the sun. Keep an eye on 'em while I do this." Pearl obliged, looking back into the eyepiece. Everything stayed the same for a few seconds, before one of the sitting Octarians seemed to take notice of them, pointing and seeming to shout something at the others. Telescope-nerd began to swivel wildly before settling on the two of them, and... Ohoho, was that fear? That was a good look. The 4 of them each took turns gazing into the telescope, each coming out with varying unsettled looks.

Pearl looked away towards Warabi, using the mirror to reflect the sun at the hill. "Look pretty spooked to me! Wave to your old comrades, let 'em know we see them." Warabi nodded, waving to the splatoon on the hill. Pearl quickly looked back into the telescope, just in time to see a relieved-looking Telescope-nerd talk to Box- and Radio-nerd. Those were their names and that was fact. Reluctantly, the Octarians one by one began to wave back, a little less tense than before. If they were going to go in there, maybe the two of them could kickstart things and make some early friends? "Wait, is there anyway you can speak to them? Like, some kind of OctoCode or something?"

Warabi shook his head. "None I can do wordlessly from this distance... but... hold on." Pearl pulled away from the telescope to see Warabi wave his arms around in some kind of charade. Pulling back, she could see Telescope-nerd relay the message to their friends. "Pearl, the guy by the radio is gonna' flash a few numbers. Tell me them in order." As if on cue, Radio-nerd began holding up his fingers in a pattern.

"Kay... Five-Two-Three-Three-Five. That right?" Looking back at Warabi, Pearl saw the Octoling input the numbers into his phone. Wait, was that their radio frequency? Her theory was proven correct, as a crackling sound began to emerge through the phone, followed by some words in Octarian Pearl didn't understand. Warabi responded, also in Octarian, and the two of them seemed to go back and forth for a bit, Warabi getting noticeably upset at one point.

After a few minutes of chatting, Warabi shut off his phone, pushing past Pearl to take a quick look into the telescope, before letting out a sigh of relief. "Well, that's them gone. Seemed like alright folk too."

"Well, what did they say? My Octarian is still messy, remember?"

Warabi took up one of the lounge chairs, as he began his speech. "Splatoon V2-R5 was sent to take a look at the area surrounding the hill. Less of a recon mission and more of a training mission to get them some fresh air or something. The Elite, the guy on the radio, is named Oscar, and he's leading them through the place, though they're trying to lay low, out of sight and all that." Pearl nodded as Warabi continued. Reconnaissance training and nothing more? Seems a little sketch but she could deal with it. "They asked for my name, said Warabi, then they asked for my number, told them to go splat themselves. Aaand... yeah, that's it. I told them that their position was compromised and they cleared out."

Pearl scratched her head. That was... good? Maybe? "Well, that's... a win for us, I guess. We need to keep this between us, yeah? Octarian's are already on a fine line with my Dad, if he finds out they're watching him-"

"Who's watching what?" GUH! Bella had seemingly warped behind them, a platter of sandwiches in her hand. "Oh goodness! I'm terribly sorry, didn't mean to scare you Pearl!" Oh shit how long had she been standing there.

Pearl turned to Warabi, her new diplomacy master, but was sorely disappointed. "We- Um- It's just- There- No-" UGH. Wordsmith time.

"I um, was just showing Warabi my old telescope! Yeah, he thinks it's crazy that, uh, he can see all the trees on Mount Nantai with it!" Warabi furiously nodded in agreement, while Bella put on a caring smile. Oh Bella, still so gullible. Boom, point for Pearl. Consider it payback for the thing with Dad, Warabi.

"I see! I made sure to keep it in good condition in your absence, good to see you using it again." Bella held out the platter to Pearl. "Care for some lunch? I made a few too many for the company dinner tonight." Pearl nabbed one of the sandwiches, having eaten nothing but toast and popcorn since she woke up. Tuna. Niiice.

As Pearl dug into the fishy heaven that were Bella's tuna sandwiches, Warabi began to reach for one, pausing as he remembered his manners. "Uh, may I, miss?"

Bella nodded, moving over to the seated Octarian and presenting the platter with a touch of theatrical flourish. Considering how many corporate jerks ran through the place, she was a fantastic actor, even better than Pearl even. After taking one for himself, Bella set the platter down on the deck's table, nibbling on her own. "It's a lovely view isn't it? To be honest with you Pearl, I... kind of miss moments like this."

The three of them continued to munch on their food in peace, eyes on the titanic mountain in front of them. Pearl leaned against the wall, watching Warabi awkwardly try to get a conversation going with Bella. It felt good. Knowing that she could be with such great friends. Seeing Bella and Dad again made it feel like almost yesterday when a lil' elementary schooler sprinted through the backyard, her maid chasing her in a game of tag, all while her father presented numbers she never understood to men she never knew inside. But now, she had people like Warabi, people she could share freak-outs with, people she could get punched in the face by, and people she could eat tuna sandwiches with.

This. Was. The. Life.

..........

"Hime! The man of the hour. You are quite the master of hospitality." Mr. Hime adjusted his tie as he entered the room, keeping a dignified look in front of the Annaki representative. The party was steadily beginning to settle down, everyone taking their seats as he moved to the end of the table. This was it. Pearl and the Octarian had opened his eyes, and it was time to take a risk for his Princess. He had done his research, seen the website that Pearl's friend developed. Mary, was it? No matter. It was time to focus. Time to act.

Mr. Hime raised his glass, the rest of the dining room following suit. "Gentlemen, thank you all for coming. Though this dinner was originally little more than celebration, I greatly appreciate your support in my sudden announcement. May this toast be to your adaptability, to your generosity, and your success. Cheers." Bottoms up, and back down. Let's do this.

Now then, gentlemen, how would you like to invest in the future of an entire species?"

Chapter Text

Nolan was conflicted.

Even with Octavio gone, he was no traitor. This job had been taken just so he could help keep the domes from collapsing in any way possible, no matter what, and that once everything was said and done, he would be going back to his homeland, perhaps with a few souvenirs and a hefty report for his comrades. The Surface was confusing, loud and bright and painful, full of hipsters and crazies a-and... just stuff. Too much stuff.

But.

He was walking to an Inkling's house, under a real sky with real clouds, eyes covered in a pair of fancy, girly sunglasses he had yet to return to an Octarian DJ that wasn't Octavio, with a lovely warm drink in his hand that he could have never obtained down in the domes, all after taking public transit powered by solar energy and a combustion engine. Sure, he had friends down there, you had to have friends if you wanted to stay sane, but it felt... different, somehow.

Nolan didn't belong at all on the surface. His suit from the other day had been so stained in sweat, both hot and cold, that he had been forced to switch to a less-formal outfit he had purchased for an emergency such as this, a comfy brown "bomber jacket" and some functional cargo pants to keep him covered. What a jacket had to do with bombs, Nolan had no idea. Perhaps it was some form of splatoon bombardier outfit? Nolan pondered on if Inklings even still had a proper military as he reached the gate leading up into Ikkan's house.

From what information he could gleam from the group's Inkling conversations, Ikkan seemed to be the most collected of the group. Marina, despite her formality and position as leader of the group, seemed a bit unhinged, very worried despite her strong engineer and soldier background. Pearl, the short one, was in typical Inkling style, absolutely mad. Octarian's knew fairly little of fashion, you got what you got, and you didn't complain, but even he knew that Pearl had zero- no, Pearl had negative taste, somehow. The other Octoling... Warabi, was it?... seemed respectable, but with the breakdown, and the dancing, and... Actually, Nolan wasn't even sure what gender that Octarian was! It was a bit of a mess. And it's not like he was above criticism either! Quite the opposite in fact, he was about as fish-out-of-water as an Octarian could be, not to mention the constant state of stress he was in at all hours of the day.

Ikkan, however, was the biggest enigma of all, if only for how relaxed he was amidst all of this. Despite being an Inkling, he was well versed in Octarian, the same height as Warabi and Marina, and living in simple accommodations. Could he somehow be... Surely not. There was no way. Was there?

Nolan tapped the door a couple times, and after a few minutes of no feedback, the slapping of barefoot feet against hardwood floors began getting closer, the door opening to reveal a slovenly-dressed Ikkan. "(Oh, hey man, what's up? Digging the new look, by the way.)"

Oh sure, now you speak Octarian. "(I'm well, mind if I come in? I admittedly have little to do today.)" Ikkan seemed to stare Nolan down for a bit, before face-palming with a groan.

"(Shiiit, we did kind of leave you in the dark, didn't we? Come on in man, Warabi's out but I can get you set up.)" Nolan nodded, taking off his leather shoes inside. The inside of the house had changed little since his visit yesterday, save for a bowl of half-eaten potato soup and can of cola on the coffee table. Ikkan disappeared into the kitchen for a few seconds before returning with a portable computer. "Laptop", it was called, if Nolan remembered correctly. With no concern for damage to his technology, the laptop was haphazardly tossed into the couch cushions before Ikkan followed suit, leaning around the edge of the furniture to see Nolan, still in the doorway. "(C'mere man. You eaten yet?)"

Nolan nodded, taking a seat beside Ikkan on the couch. "(Yes, I have. I stopped at a cafe before I took the bus, where I got this tea.)"

Ikkan only gave a half-hearted "Mhm." as he proceeded to type on his laptop at lightning speeds. "(What about tech. Did you bring any with you from down under?)"

Nolan rubbed his shoulder nervously. The equipment he'd brought hadn't been much use to him on the Surface, and it might be touchy to out and say he had brought what he did. If it was Ikkan, it would be okay... right? "(Well, I do have an Octarian PDA and radio back in my hotel room, but I've been disallowed from using the radio due to privacy reasons, and Octarians run on a separate network. Why? What are you typing anyway?)"

Ikkan nodded. "(Alright, good to know. I juuust have to pull up thiiis... There we go.)" Ikkan turned the vidscreen over to Nolan, settled on a netpage which featured a list of some form. In simple bold text at the top of the page was written:

[SIMPLE STEP_BY_STEP GUIDE TO HELPING OCTARIANS INTEGRATE]

Before Nolan could read further, Ikkan turned the vidscreen back to himself, and began to tap at a square of material below the keyboard. Touch controls, most likely "(Okay. Transportation, Communication, Relocation, Relaxation, aaand... Understanding. Pff, wait to go Marina, ruin the rhyme scheme like that.)" Ikkan shut the laptop and got up off the couch, stretching his arms to the ceiling as he did. "(Alright. We can skip Relocation and Understanding. You've got a place to stay, and you were allowed to come here, so you've no serious trauma or anything. Unlike most of us, now that I think about it. Lucky bastard.)" Alright. Lot to take in there. How about we slow down a bit?

Goodness, without the others around, the man spoke a mile a minute."(Wait-wait-wait, slow down! From the top. What was that netpage you were on?)" Ikkan looked puzzled for a second, the pieces coming together in his head, before he sat back down and grabbed the laptop again.

"(Right, sorry, you're still fairly out of the loop huh?)" Um, yeah. "(Marina and a friend are working to develop an online resource for Octarians moving to Inkopolis, called The Light. I'll show you the full thing later, but right now, if you're only going to be here for a while, you'll still need some basics.)" Ikkan turned the vidscreen back to Nolan, the words now in clear Octarian, thankfully, and handed it to him.

[Step 1: Transportation]
Without outside influence, Octarians will almost always be arriving without proper transportation. That's several kilometres from Mount Nantai to Inkopolis purely on foot! Helping your Octarian friends with mobility first is a good way to build trust and keep connected over long distances.
- Check footwear. Standard-issue Octarian boots can take a lot of punishment, but if they are too worn, consider providing a spare pair, or buying new ones.
- Get Octo familiar with public transit. There will come a time where taxis, buses, or trains are necessary! Bring your new friend on a trip and demonstrate the proper etiquette involved.
- Provide light transport. A bike is best for this, but anything works! After a prolonged stay, a personal drivers license can go a long way as well!

Huh. These were all... pretty sensible, actually. The Inklings were... what to even call it escaped Nolan in the moment. Harbouring Octarian traitors? Some kind of conversion? Whatever it was, there was a taste of... bittersweetness, to it. "(You said Marina made this?)".

Ikkan shrugged. "(The writing is her, but the coding was done by an anemone named Annie. She runs the SplatNet2 shop online, and they're apparently friends. Apparently.)" Another one of Marina's friends, eh? Warabi was right, Marina did have too many "little friends". Sounded like someone was hiding something.

"(So, where do I come into this? It doesn't entirely affect me, to be honest.)"

"(Right, sorry, was just getting to that. By 'Transportation', I just mean getting over to the shop and picking up my truck. For the other two... How much spending money you got on you?)" Nolan fished through his pocket for his wallet, and retrieved a sleek black card from inside.

"(I got this card from my associates in Octo Valley. It's meant to be loaded with enough money to get me whatever I need. I don't quite comprehend how it works, is there something I need to buy?)" Ikkan nodded, searching his own pockets for a much smaller vidscreen in the shape of a squid.

"(One of these, a smartphone. By connecting it to our Internet, we can get you real-time communication with everyone in our little group. Doesn't have to be a pretty one, but I think it'll help you out a lot up here.)" Pocketing the "smartphone", Ikkan continued. "(As for Relaxation, well... again, no trauma, but I think you'll like what I'm thinkin' of.)" Alright, Nolan could work with this. Inkling tech would be a blessing for the researchers in the dome, and anything to wind down the stress of it all would be greatly appreciated.

"(Well, I do like the sound of that. Are we heading out now?)" Ikkan closed the laptop, setting it on the coffee table, replacing it with the bowl of soup in his hands.

Ikkan shook his head. "(I still need to finish eating and hop into something more... acceptable. Once I'm done, we'll take the bus down to the garage my truck is in, and work from there, yeah?)" Nolan silently agreed, waiting patiently in the simple home as Ikkan polished off the bowl in record time, and retrieved a large hoodie and ripped jeans from his basement, along with a large duffel bag. After the two left the building, they began the short, quiet walk through the neighbourhood towards the stop. Little talk was had as they climbed onto the vehicle, nearly empty compared to the bus he had arrived on. Sitting down in the back seat, Ikkan turned to Nolan. "(Right, we're getting off around Arowana, so just to have you keep up with the rest of us, if there's anything you're curious about, ask away.)" Oh, an open ended question? He had so many, Nolan didn't know where to begin. Alright, start small.

"(How did you get into music?)"

Ikkan merely rolled his eyes. Clearly this was one he got often, but he relented and told his story. "(Played bass in high school, became a fan of it. Started a band with my classmates, but...)" Ikkan paused, looking out the window as he reminisced about his past. "(We broke up, a year or two back. It was rough but... but we just couldn't keep going. I didn't like how fast we were going, Ichiya didn't want us cramping his freedom, and the urchin, lil' one named Murasaki, was just too young for it all. Namida was heartbroken, and we went out separate ways.)" Oh. What... what does one even say in response to that?! Oh that's terrible, all your school friends are gone, BUT HEY, at least you have a pair of crazy DJs to have your back! Huh, speaking of crazy DJs...

"(And Warabi? When did he come in?)"

Ikkan let a small smile seep through the grim facade at the mention of his partner. "(We met in an alley after one of Squid Squad's last practices. He seemed really freaked out about everything, so I took him home. I told Marina online about him, found out he was an Octarian like her, and we just kind of... I don't know, is roommates the right word?)" Nolan could only shrug. This wasn't his story, how would he know? Ikkan shook it off and continued. "(When he found out I was a musician, I let him borrow some old equipment so he could try it out. A few Huetube tutorials later and... man he was putting his heart and soul into it. We decided to start our own group, a small one, to put actual effort into, and the rest is history.)" Well, that's one loose end tied up.

"(And Marina? How did that happen?)"

"(Musicians talk, you know? She was a fan of my old stuff, and she needed someone other than Pearl to unload her problems onto. I brought up the subject of her being Octarian first, which caused a bit of a ruckus, but I kept the secret. It was after Marina helped me with Warabi that she mentioned a help site for Octarians, and she's still working on it to this day. Websites are hard work, man.)" The bus pulled to a stop at a large station next to an enormous building, likely the "Arowana" that Ikkan had mentioned.

"(I see. Do... do you like Warabi?)"

Nolan followed Ikkan off the bus, who was pondering over the question, as they plodded through a crowded parking lot towards an unknown destination. "(Warabi, he... he just makes me feel like I matter, you know? Like... like I have unfinished business until I can help him become the next Marina, until he succeeds. Even when he's freaking out, an-and we're arguing, and he's breaking shit... it means I'm doing something wrong, I feel. You get me? Not like a lover, I'm straight as an arrow, brotha', but... like a father, almost.)"

Nolan couldn't say he related personally, but he got it, giving a nod of solemn understanding to Ikkan, who returned the nod as the two continued to the garage.

This 'Garage' was immensely underwhelming. Octarians had garages for repair and storage of Anti-Grav tech and Yuefo platforms, but they were generally large buildings, brightly lit by neon lighting and bustling with activity. This, however, was a grimy little building, a pair of rusting overhead steel doors marking it's front, with a small office off to the side. In large writing above everything were the words Arbacio's Fix-em / Oil & Tires. The pair opened the door, a bell signalling their entrance. Sitting at the desk in front of them was a creature who's grey head was covered in black spikes. If Nolan's research was correct, this one was an Urchin. At the sight of Ikkan, the Urchin jumped to his feet, a goofy grin on his face. "AAAY Issa yooou! My good friend, how a' you?"

Ikkan shook the hand of the rowdy urchin, switching to Inkling. "The pleasure's mine, Arb. I'm here for the pickup." Arbacio nodded fervently, leading Ikkan into the garage. Once again, a disappointment, lacking the distinctive hum of Anti-Grav technology and smelling of Power Eggs and crude oil. Two cars sat lazily in the middle of the large room, one large and a muddy white, the other a rusting blue and missing the back roof. Compared to Pearl's car, these were utter jokes. Arbacio briskly walked to the blue one, giving it a hearty slap on the side, the sound echoing through the room.

"I tell-a you Iggy, this sonuva brine's no'-so-good no more. Brakes replaced-a, transmission-a tuned, and-a the oil changed-a." Wait, that was his car?! A quarter of the entire cabin was missing! The paint was chipped, sections of exposed, rusting metal could be seen, and one of the headlights was held together by tape! And this was it fixed?! More questions just kept piling up. Ikkan moved to take a peak under the vehicle, before giving a whistle and turning to Arbacio.

"Everything looks to be in order. Now... the price, my man. What's this gonna' be?" It was subtle, but there was glitter of... malice?... in the Urchin's eyes. Leaning against the white car, Arbacio began to count on his fingers.

"This-eeeh, kinda' thing'll be-a somethin' like-eeeh... 50,000C. I's steep-a, yes, but I got-a de' bills to pay-a, and kids to feed-a, yeah?" Both Ikkan and Nolan were taken aback at the figure, but while Nolan began to, in typical Nolan fashion, sweat, Ikkan quickly regained himself, letting his arm rest on his car as he stared down Arbacio smugly.

"Well Arb, I'm in the middle of renovations, and I've got a lot of stuff lined up, so I don't think I can do that price." The Urchin stared back at the Inkling as he continued, pacing between the two cars. "We got that Splatfest recently you know? Me and Warabi had a great time there, got quite a bit of clout too..." Arbacio's frown twitched slightly at the mention of "clout". What it was, Nolan had no idea, but it was clearly important. "Pretty sure we both reached Defender, and W. even got King from a few games by himself!" Ikkan then leaned in dangerously close to the now somewhat nervous Arbacio. "Do you know how many Snails that gets us?" Wait, snails? As in, Super Sea Snails? Oh my, this was a revelation, and absolutely warranted a report.

Under all the spikes, Arbacio had gone from a dark grey to a deep red. "Y-ya... You're-a bluffing. T-there's-a no way."

"I've got no need for them, my gear's right where I want it. But... you work with me here, and there's 10- That's one-zero- 10 snails with your name on it, in 1-2 business days." An incredible offer! Despite his poor condition and mannerisms, Ikkan just had 10 Super Sea Snails lying around! What is this man?!

Arbacio was salivating at the prospect, before snapping out of it and letting a wide smile cover his face. "You-a are a crafty one Iggy, I'll tell-a you that. 5,000, and all 10 of those snails. No more-a, no less."

"Deal. Glad you could reconsider Arb." The two shook hands, Arbacio almost trembling at the prospect of Super Sea Snails, and the group were brought back into the office. Nolan only sat in stunned silence as Ikkan filled out receipts and forms while Arbacio kicked his feet up onto the front counter, his mood now back to it's earlier cheeriness,and kept a close eye on the two of them. Once the final I had been dotted, he fished under the counter for a set of keys, lazily tossing them to Ikkan.

"She's-a yours, my friend. But I expect-a those snails in a day or two-a yeah? You're-a not dodgin'-a this one Iggy!" Ikkan only winked at the spunky Urchin, and beckoned Nolan to follow him back into the garage towards his mess of a car. As Nolan steadily made his way into the plush passenger seat, the door in front of them began to slowly crawl open, revealing the light of the afternoon to the poorly-lit interior. Ikkan clicked his keys into the dash, causing the engine to roar to life with a low rumble. Unlike Pearl's car, there was nothing elegant about the startup, nothing smooth. Though assured by Marina that they were OK, Nolan was beginning to have his doubts about cars, as the simple act of leaving the garage was causing the car to pitch and shake uncomfortably.

Ikkan, noticing the increase of sweat coming from the terrified Octarian, piped up, oddly cheery despite the rickety death trap he was operating. "(It's, uh, not exactly the ideal driving experience, but it's, like, all I got man. Car's are expensive, and with the band, housework, and Warabi, I don't have the cash to get a new one.)" Okay. Thank you for the explanation. Still, surely there were alternatives? The bus ride was cheap and effective at delivering them to their location, but it looked like a slight breeze would cause this vehicle to disintegrate.

"I-I understand that Ikkan, but how-*wheeze*-how is this thing even f-functional? A-and what do you mean you don't have t-the cash, if you can just throw S.S. Snails around like they're nothing!"

Ikkan kept on the task at hand, eyes darting all over to ensure that the car kept in motion. "(It's an old clunker I got from my dad, and unlike the cheap plastic shit of today, this baby refuses to die. And I got the Snails as a reward for the Splatfest. Really, I only use them for dealing with-... Oh shit, right. Splatfests. Uh. I'll explain in a bit, let's get the other stuff outta the way first, it's a lot.)" What!? Was this some form of sacred Inkling ritual? Whatever happened to "ask away."? Ugh.

The car continued struggling back in the direction of the mall, pulling in to a lot with a large gathering of other vehicles. The purple pair dismounted, Nolan still somewhat rattled, and made their way towards the entrance. The mall appeared to be an enormous roof-less market, a large conglomeration of shops and vendors lining the sides of a wide brick path. The space was home to an enormous variety of species, all chattering and going about their day. Nolan could make out a few he recognised, anemones, urchins, jellyfish, and various fishfolk all over the place, going in and out of the shops as Nolan followed Ikkan to their destination deeper inside. In the distance, Nolan could hear the shrill shriek of a whistle, followed by the cheering of a crowd. Was there some kind of event going on? He wasn't sure how Inkling's handled shopping, but surely procuring socks and fresh produce didn't warrant a crowd of people screaming.

Ikkan came to a stop in front of a large map. Pondering for a moment, the Inkling turned back to Nolan, a grin on his face. "(The shop's on the other side of the mall. I want to get this done, sooo... you know how to Superjump?)" Nolan only nodded in response. He knew how to do it. He had done it. But the domes used by civilians were usually so closely knit that Superjumps were either unnecessary or flat out disallowed. And, in general, changing forms out in the streets without reason was frowned upon.

At the thought of changing forms, Nolan was suddenly keen to the fact that Ikkan had dissapeared from his vision, now a 2-foot violet squid relaxing next to the display. Pointing one of his ten tentacles to the display, Ikkan began to elaborate, his voice shaky in squid form. "(We want to go right there, by the fountain. Think you can make the jump OK?)" With another confirming nod, Nolan watched as the little squid leapt off into the distance, disappearing behind the roof of a trendy clothing shop. Alright, time to do this. Nolan relaxed as his body shifted into it's octopus form, and took another look at the now much taller map. Luckily, the thing came with distance scales, and a couple ground rules to keep Inklings from jumping all over the place, and Nolan placed the area at about 600 meters to the west. Letting the strength build in his appendages for a moment, Nolan gave a mighty push, shooting into the air. In the brief moments airborne, adrenaline and wonder took over, as bright colours and textures flashed by in a matter of seconds. He seemed to pass over the source of the cheering, but at the speed Nolan was going, the purpose was too blurry to ma-

S L A M!

Ow.

"(Woof. A for effort, but that landing can't have been comfortable.)" Nolan looked up at a now-humanoid, rather blurry Ikkan, leaning down to offer a hand. The jump had gotten him to his destination, but the distractions must have been overwhelming, and instead of following proper landing procedure, he had slid across the stone floor a good metre or so from his intended spot. Shifting to humanoid himself, Nolan took the hand of Ikkan, struggling to both straighten himself out and ignore the throbbing headache he had received. A few worried glances were sent his way, but for the most part no one cared that an Octarian had essentially crashed into the middle of a crowded shopping center. Ikkan, coming more into focus, only chuckled. "(Must be outta' practice huh? You should be good to keep going though, yeah?)"

Of course. Nolan was no soldier, but an Octoling could take a bump or two. "(I'll... I'm good. Just a bit woozy. You said the store wasn't far from here?)"

Ikkan pointed across the plaza they had entered to a brightly-lit store punctuated by walls of flat colour. "(Right there, my man.)" Nolan followed Ikkan to the entrance, politely crossing the path of an Urchin family on their way. Ikkan held his hand out to stop Nolan before he could open the door. "(Okay, you want a decent smartphone with internet connection. I'll let you pick, but don't ask the fella's in nametags anything. They'll try to sell you the pricey ones, and as much as an expensive phone would be nice, I highly doubt your boss or whatever would appreciate an enormous 90000C charge on the usual bus fares and lunches, yeah?)" Nolan nodded, the concept of salesmen universal. Pushing open the door to the ting of a small bell, Nolan was presented with a multitude of vidscreens, ranging from the size of a chocolate bar to the equivalent of half a car! Surely there was no reason for such excess! Even in the light of day at the distance he was, the largest one was beginning to hurt Nolan's eyes, through Marina's sunglasses. Nolan slowly took everything in, moving to a display of vidscreens similar in size to Ikkan's, undoubtedly smartphones and his current objective. There were many to choose from, all in different colours and shapes and size, and each glowing with a small presentation of it's features and power. One in particular caught his eye, it's case similar to the bulbous head of an octopus. The short video boasted an "indestructible case" and "long battery life", all good for service in the domes.

"(Is this one okay?)" Ikkan looked up from his own smartphone, walking up beside the curious Octarian to peer at his choice.

"(That one'll be perfect for ya'. Not the best performance, but hey, just don't overload it or anything, and it'll serve you well.)" Nolan nodded, unsure what "overload" referred to, and made his way to the counter, manned by an incredibly bored-looking anemone. Ikkan took him through the process, getting him a nice purple octopus case and clear "screen protector" to go with it, and a few minutes later, Nolan walked into the sun holding a proper piece of Inkling technology. Sliding his finger across the screen brought him to an image of flowers with various applications on top. Ikkan led him to a nearby bench and pointed to his own smartphone, the flowers replaced by a picture of himself along with a pair of other Inklings and a young urchin.

"(First things first, go to the Internet- that button there, and touch that top bar.)" Nolan followed along on his own device, pressing his finger to a blue sphere and being greeted by a white netpage with an empty address bar on top. Ikkan continued "(You're going to type in 'The-Light-Of-Inkopolis-Dot-I-Net' in there, that'll take you to Marina's website.)" Nolan was presented with a keypad upon tapping the address bar, and proceeded to enter what Ikkan had instructed. Upon entry, he was greeted with the familiar soft green of Marina's netpage. Ikkan proceeded to demonstrate the creation of an account, and "sent an invite" to the group's chatroom. Once accepted, a second netpage opened:

==========<Dome Saviour Squad Group Chatroom>==========

>//businessoctopus (O)// has entered the chat
2:35 - //M O D /ikkan (I)//
hey guys, nolan got his phone up and running, say hey.
2:36 - //Finnegan (F)//
Hey, it's you guys! We got into the chat, but everyone else seems busy! What's up?
2:36 - //businessoctopus (O)//
HEllo. I've just purchased this smartphone, and Ikkan is going to bring me to something relaxing. Good to see communication up and running. Are you well?
2:36 - //Finnegan (F)//
I can tell you're not used to this, underground dude, but you learn fast! We're all just winding down from practice, and getting more information on Octo Valley. Tangle says hey!
2:37 - //businessoctopus (O)//
Excellent. Thank you for everything.
2:37 - //Finnegan (F)//
OH WAIT! Before you go, we may have another act! The guys from Hightide Era called me up, they saw Marina's announcement and wanted in! Think you could let them into the loop?

They were getting approached by prolific Inkopolis talent? That sounded great! One more wouldn't hurt, after all.

2:37 - //businessoctopus (O)//
I'm booked for the day, where and when tomorrow?
2:38 - //Finnegan (F)//
We can meet at the Salty Seaweed for lunch! Our treat, of course.
2:38 - //businessoctopus (O)//
Sure. See you then.

Ikkan gave a confident snort, smirking as Nolan turned off the phone. "(Fiona's right, you do learn fast. Now c'mon, we got one more thing to do.)" The pair got up, beginning the walk back to the car. Nolan pulled off another Superjump to cut the distance, landing much smoother with practice, while Ikkan followed closely behind. Ikkan's drive-able mistake stood out like a sore thumb in the lot, and the two got back on the road in the direction of the square.

Inkopolis Square perfectly demonstrated the key differences between Octarians and Inklings that Nolan had noted. Chief among them, stuff. There were Inklings of all ages running around the place, their fashion and tentacles creating an enormous sea of colour before him. A large car stood in the center, the crustacean inside serving food and drink to a growing line of impatient cephalopods. Alarmingly, almost every Inkling and Octoling he could see was armed, an ink weapon on their hip or back, with everything from tiny Shooters to enormous Splatlings. Billboards and vidscreens covered the tall buildings, while admittedly "okay" pop music played through unseen speakers. Before Nolan could question the situation, Ikkan was already walking towards the large tower at the rear of the square, emblazoned with a pair of arrows and glaring eyes. Nolan dutifully followed, not wishing to get lost in the sea of squid, and soon found himself in a lobby of some kind.

The enormous room was covered in vidscreens and lights, moving to depict happy squids floating upwards. Various vidscreens showed groups of Inklings compared against each other. Was this for some competition? Rankings and scores flanked the images, along with pictures of... arenas, perhaps? They seemed to be the right size, but the architecture was all over the place. Surely this wasn't for basketball or anything. Inklings in pairs and fours drifted about, chatting and shouting in their own language. Nolan could make out the words, but not the terminology.

Ikkan turned to Nolan, snapping him out of his sightseeing. "(Alright, so this is going to be a lot to take in, but... Do you understand the concept of a Turf War?)" Nolan did. How could he not? When Octavio was still around, Great Turf War grudges were all anyone cared about. Nolan felt it unnecessary, and found relief in Octavio's absence, but he knew all about it. Nolan nodded, as Ikkan continued. "(Good. See, Inklings have taken Turf Wars and turned it into a kind of... like, sport, if you will. It's great fun, good for blowing off steam, and you get paid for it. That all understood?)"

...No. No, not really. "(So, hold on. While Octarians seethed and grumbled in underground domes for a century over the war, Inklings... made it into a sport?! I- Wha- How would that even work, anyway?)"

Ikkan only shrugged. "(Cultural thing, I suppose. After the Great Turf War it became tradition. Small space, you fight for turf for, like, 3 minutes. Simple stuff. If you want to get in with the 10-limbed crowd, you should at least give it a try.)" Nolan wasn't sure how to respond. To just throw yourself into combat for 3 minutes, for sport... perhaps...

Inklings had no need for a proper military.

Inklings were the military. Millions strong. And always ready to fight.

Still trying to comprehend this revelation, Nolan responded shakily, once again beginning to produce enough sweat to fill several lakes. "(I- uh, see- the thing... Huh... Oh alright. I'll try it. B-but questions first.)"

"(Shoot.)"

"(D-don't... say shoot, while we're s-surrounded by children with weaponry. Please. D-disregarding that, is it safe?! This is literally splatting for sport!)"

Ikkan pointed behind him to a bright yellow pad. "(Spawnpoint. Each team gets one, and no matter what happens, they can't shut down. Squidforce- The people who run these- have only had one accident where a Spawnpoint didn't trigger, and that invoked a shit-ton of regulations and changes back in the day. No one will die.)" Well, that was... comforting? Not exactly, but at least Nolan wouldn't die. That was a plus.

"(And what of my weapon? I didn't bring anything, and I'm not a soldier!)"

Ikkan pointed over to a Launchpad off to the side. "(Newbies get a free one for doing the tutorial. If you do that for a bit, I'll be back with mine, and we can get a proper match going.)" And with that, the purple-haired Inkling left, exiting through the door he came in, leaving a confused, dripping Octoling in the middle of the lobby. Well, there really wasn't any way to escape this now, was there? If Nolan was to discover more of Inkling culture, a delve into their main form of entertainment would be enlightening. Cautiously approaching the launchpad, Nolan could feel stares on his back. There he was, a 27 year-old Octoling, jumping into the training for a sport that most Inklings were already mastering at 14. Slowly, Nolan shifted to octopus-form, and slid into the Launchpad. Unlike Superjumps, Launchpads let an Inkling or Octoling travel to a set destination, with increased range over Superjumps under one's own power.

Once again getting the hang of landing, Nolan found himself at the beginning of some form of walled-off back alley, covered in posters and graffiti. To his immediate left sat a tall female Inkling, in a bright yellow windbreaker and sporting long lime tentacles that draped over the table she rested at. At the sight of Nolan, the Inkling hurriedly sat up, her metal chair scraping against the ground. "Oh, hello there! Sorry, we don't get many people doing the tutorial this early! Usually everyone comes once school gets let out. Are you here to sign up for Turf War?"

Nolan nodded, taking up the seat opposite. Shoot, Inkling. Hopefully he wouldn't be doing too much talking. "Y-yes. It's a bit much to t-take in. What d-do I need to do?"

The Inkling smiled. "It's alright!. Just fill out this small form, then we can get to to the fun bits." Nolan was then handed a pen and the mentioned form. All basic information, name, age, birth colour, the works. Once completed, the Inkling got up, retrieving a one of many small cases behind her. "Here you go, your first Ink Weapon. I won't bore you with the specifics, but the Splattershot Jr. takes less ink than the average Splattershot, so it's good for beginners." Nolan opened the case, revealing a cylindrical ink tank and a boxy-looking Shooter, the same colour as the Inkling's tentacles. So, the average teenager was literally given a Shooter just for filling out a-

No! No, he'd reserve his judgement until the end of this "tutorial".

Nervously, the tank was slid on, backpack style, while the Shooter was linked to the tank, and began to fill up. The Inkling got up from her table, and motioned for Nolan to follow. Pulling from her coat a large remote, she pulled back from the alley entrance. "I'll speak to you through the speakers, I imagine you're past needing a chaperone for these things. Just keep moving forward and don't let yourself get cold feet. And don't worry, we get plenty of late bloomers." Nolan merely nodded again, only understanding the gist of the conversation. Just keep moving forward. Easy enough.

Nolan sped up to a brisk jog as he admired the area he had found himself in. Even in the middle of winter, clouds beginning to roll in to cover the afternoon sun, the alleyways even managed to exude colour and cheer. The hustle and bustle of the square was muted by the buildings around him, and he could hear the chirping of birds, something he had never heard before, all around him. When met with a pair of crates in his path, Nolan took aim with his new Splattershot Jr. and fired. The recoil was so minimal it didn't even register that he had pressed the trigger until the box exploded in front of him, a puddle of muddy-red ink in it's place. A few more obstacles presented themselves, some jumping, a Superjump, climbing a wall covered in ink, before finally he was met with a dead end. Was this it? Surely there was-

A speaker above him crackled to life, the Inkling's voice coming through. "Not bad for a first timer! But now, let's get those reflexes going! Gonna' release a couple balloons, try to pop all of them with the Jr.." A horn sounded, and a trio of lime-green balloons floated into view. Was this some kind of colour theming, Lime equals easy mode? Regardless, he had a job to do. With each POP, Nolan felt a great sense of satisfaction. Perhaps this whole Turf War thing wasn't so bad after all. He didn't know how long he spent in that alley, just popping balloons, one after another, but eventually they stopped coming.

The speaker crackled once again, as clapping could be heard from the other end. "And there we go! All done! Come on back, and we'll finalize things." As the speaker shut off, a hatch opened up in the ground in front of him, revealing another Launchpad. Despite his initial uncertainty, and the glowing goalpost before him, Nolan didn't want to leave. Everything just felt... peaceful here. Less noise, pretty sights, a means to warm up in the cold weather... and this was an alleyway, of all things. Was everything backwards on the surface? And this tutorial had been mercifully short! No, if he was going to be fighting, he'd stay a little while longer.

"D-do you... mind if I walk b-back?" Nolan said, to no one in particular. It occurred to him that perhaps their communication was one-way, but his doubts were quashed as the speaker once again crackled to life.

"Sure. I'm finished here, so don't take too long!" Nolan nodded to no one in particular, and began to retrace his steps back to the entrance. After finally climbing the slope back to the entrance, he was met with the Inkling, sitting back at the table with a what looked like a credit card and a large duffel bag in front of her. She perked up as Nolan approached, holstering the Splattershot Jr., and presented him with the contents of the table. "Congrats! You are now a certified splat battler! First, your ID card." The small black card was thrust towards Nolan, which he took carefully. The card was similar in size and shape to the one he kept his funds on, but was completely black all over. As the card touched his hand, a display popped up, a number of bars and images covering the previously black surface, most notably one which read:

Level 1 0/1000

Sliding the card into his pocket, the duffel bag was then zipped open, as the Inkling continued cheerfully. "This is some starter equipment to get you going, all only One-star, but as you rise in the ranks, the shops around the square will open up better stock for you. Also, a small rule book to get the gist of how these things work, and a water bottle, stay hydrated!" Clothing took up a large part of the bag, a bright yellow sweatshirt, a pair of white sneakers, a white athletic headband, and a pair of tight black pants with a single pink stripe down the side. Picking up the sweatshirt, Nolan noticed a 2 small tags on the waist, one with the image of a Splatbomb and up-arrow stitched into it, the other flat black.

"Pardon, what is this, here?" The Inkling slid beside Nolan to see, before smiling.

"That's it's abilities! The clothes you have on right now are Casual, so they don't get abilities and can be purchased anywhere. Turf War clothing, though, are on a rating system of One to Three-star. The Squidmark Sweat you have there is a One-star with Subpower Up, so your Splatbombs and such are more powerful, along with a blank slot that can be revealed the more you use it! Usually the starter equipment we give is the Basic Tee with Quick Respawn, but there's no way I'd send you into a Turf War in winter in a T-shirt!" Thanks for that? Nolan was still somewhat lost, but simply accepted the gifts. Thanking the kind Inkling for her time, Nolan made his way back to a Launchpad at the beginning, jumping back into the crowded lobby, peace and quiet properly broken.

"(So, was the tutorial girl cute?)" Oh, right, Ikkan was here! The squid seemed to have returned from his outing, the duffel bag he owned slung over his shoulder.

"(W-well, I now know what I'm doing, at least. Do we start a Turf War now?)"

Ikkan shook his head, pointing to a set of stalls off to the side. "(Change into your new gear first. The pants don't offer any stat advantage, so don't bother in this weather. I'll do the same, then we meet up in one of the lobbies down the hall.)" Nolan nodded, as the two separated once more into the change rooms. The two emerged together, Nolan in his starter yellow, while Ikkan was clad in a flannel hoodie, dark gray shoes with thick soles, and some kind of purple hat with flaps that matched his hair. Following his advice, neither party had changed out of their more comfortable legwear. In Ikkan's hands lay a thick olive-green slosher, that seemed to radiate heat from the bottom.

"(What on earth is that thing?)" The pair set off in the direction of the lobbies as Ikkan answered.

"(This? It's an Explosher Custom, just got it. Do you not have them in the domes?)"

"(I wouldn't know, though I've never seen one before personally. What's the hot section in the back do?)"

"(Sloshers just toss ink all over the place, but the Explosher heats the ink up and lobs an explosive ball of it a longer distance. I like Sloshers, but I also like, like, not exploding.)"

"(That's understandable, I guess. So, are there any rules that I should keep an eye out for?)"

Ikkan scratched his chin. "(Well... Definitely no physical assault. Warabi brought 2 matches to a halt after socking some poor fool in the mouth, once with her fist, the other time with the butt end of her Splattershot. It was funny until she got a 6 month ban.)" Ikkan approached one of the glass doors, and pressed a card to a nearby pedestal, causing the door to open. Nolan mirrored his actions, but was presented with a screen appearing on the pedestal, and a keypad.

First time? Please enter a name to represent yourself! [_________________________________]

Uh. Okay. Nolan didn't want to just enter his name into the strange terminal if he was representing himself, it would look kind of weird. This was most likely a username, something to add to the system, nothing else. The name he had used for his Light account stuck to him, but it felt a tad bulky for such a sport. After inputting the username, the door opened once more, allowing Nolan inside the small room. On one side, Ikkan sat on an empty couch, hands in his pockets. The other side held another couch, this time occupied by a pair of young Inklings, one boy and one girl, who were gossiping with each other. On the wall opposite the door, a list of some kind was displayed on a vidscreen:

Lvl 22 ikkan
Lvl 23 Sliquer13
Lvl 45 Kjadfm
Lvl 1 businessocto
Waiting...
Waiting...
Waiting...
Waiting...

Sitting down next to Ikkan, Nolan watched as the pair across from them whispered and giggled. Oh, if only to be young again... Nolan decided to follow suit, leaning over to Ikkan and tapping him on the shoulder for his attention. "(So)- *ahem* So, anything else I should know?"

"Just shoot the ground to win, man. Ink is slow so aim ahead of your opponent if they run, and... uh... Just- read the rule book for etiquette, I guess. There's not a whole lot to it. These lobbies fill up fast, so just sit tight for a bit." Nolan sighed, as he fished into his bag for the small paperback he had been gifted. While his "Level" was somewhat behind the two across from them, he assumed that Ikkan would have at least something more to tell him, more than "Shoot the ground and don't punch each other."

As he opened the rulebook, Nolan frowned. The book wasn't much different, detailing different subweapons and specials and providing a brief list of restrictions. No non-ink weapons, no contact, everything must be licensed, all what he had been told before or that he had assumed. Looking up, he realised that the room had suddenly gotten full, 3 more Inklings, and surprisingly enough, an Octoling, had taken up the remaining seats. Looking back at the list, he now realised that the groups of names had been sorted by what bench they were on, and by extension, their team:

P U R P L E

Lvl 22 ikkan
Lvl 1 businessocto
Lvl 36 BustaBrown
Lvl 9 SquiSisfan94

G R E E N

Lvl 23 Sliquer13
Lvl 45 Kjadfm
Lvl 16 Exdeee)))
Lvl 96 Manaia012

Well. Nolan wasn't quite sure how the levels measured skill, but this seemed entirely unfair. He glanced to his temporary allies, an Inkling with brown tentacles that matched his skin tone who held the largest Roller he had ever seen. The Octoling, holding a sleek silver Shooter, peeked back at him and sheepishly waved. Nolan returned the gesture, before stowing the rule book away and sliding the bag under his seat. According to the book, this was when... boom. A purple launchpad appeared in front of their bench, while a green one appeared opposite. 6 cephalopods made a mad dash to the pads, shooting off into the revealed sky, leaving only a nervous Nolan and a relaxed Ikkan.

"C'mon man, just slide into the purple one. It'll be a lot easier once we get in there." And with that, Ikkan shifted forms, rocketing off into the sky to join the others. Not wanting to be left behind in what he was told was a timed event, Nolan quickly followed suit, tentacles changing colour to match the pad, and felt himself tumble through the air. The whole trip took only seconds, but those seconds felt like bliss, Nolan finally perfecting the landing on the purple Spawnpoint with his teammates.

He had a few more seconds to realise the situation he found himself in. The group had found themselves in a large, cut off section of Arowana Mall, one that seemed to blend the market style with that of a skatepark. The cheering of crowds could be heard, and overhead, a display showed the same team list as in the lobby. Wait... this was what he heard! They had Turf Wars in the centre of malls! As Nolan struggled to collect himself with his latest revelation of Inkling madness, a booming voice rang through the speakers, sounding strangely foreign. "TURF WAAAR! READY?"

No. Not really.

GO!

Inkopolis' crippling stuff problem reared it's ugly head once more, a whistle blowing as Ikkan and the "Busta" character began running off to the centre of the stage, covering ground in purple ink as they went. Alright, game time. Just shoot the ground. Nolan joined his fellow Octarian in covering the ground the others had missed, steadily making his way up over the skate ramps as they stoically continued their work, pop music blaring through the speakers at them. Nolan did his best to tune out everything, to keep his eyes out only for the flashes of green that mattered, but it seemed that the Surface just didn't want to work with him today. Approaching the center, Nolan slid into cover behind a plant display. Spawnpoint or not, longevity was his goal, and the now much closer patter of ink weapon combat was a growing concern. The Octoling cut to the right...

SPLAT

...and almost made it down a ledge before exploding a brilliant shade of green. Nolan froze, conflicting feelings rising within him. Nervous? Absolutely, considering the stains appearing on his new sweater at 5 degrees. Grief? Undoubtedly. Soldier or not, regardless of Spawnpoint, one does not simply sit back while their comrade gets splatted. Above all else? Determination. Determination to swat down the Inkling that appeared from below the ledge, dressed in an appalling coat of colours that was painful to look at, and wielding a Bamboozler. No weapons knowledge needed, that was the scourge of all Octarians and it needed to be put down.

Nolan was not stupid however, and quickly shifted into an octopus to hide within the puddle he had created around the plant. The scourge continued to advance, slowly walking to control the kick of the Bamboozler as he covered up all the work the 8-limbed pair had made. Suddenly, a hot glob of purple flew over the nearby wall, exploding a foot away from the Bamboozler. Splashed and disgruntled, the scourge quickly fired another shot to the side in an effort to dodge the next glob as it came flying over the wall. Shifting out of squid form, the scourge backed away from the wall in order to approximate where the next shot would land...

...Backing right into a shifted Nolan. There was screaming and struggling on both sides, but the result was inevitable.

Splatted Sliquer!

Huh. That did feel good. Nolan had no time to relax, as his next opponent sighted him, this time a girl with long tentacles, wi-

PAPAPAPAPAPAP!

Okay! No time to assess! This is the part where you RUN! Nolan booked it across the stage as fast as he could, covering up the mess the "Sliquer" fellow had made along the way, sliding behind the plant opposite to dodge the bulky Shooter fire. Luckily, another saviour came to his rescue, this time in the form of BustaBrown, appearing from a trail of ink that had lead back into their Spawn. Before the girl could react, the enormous Roller was brought down with a thunderous crash, tossing an equally enormous quantity of ink at the poor Inkling. Another threat down.

"You good, Newbie?" Realising he was being addressed, Nolan looked over the plant to see a triumphant Brown, swinging his Roller in the same manner that Warabi had swung him around at that pub.

"Could be better! What now?" This was... strangely fun!

"Just shoot the ground bro! And don't do too much hidin'! We only got 3 minutes!" And with that he left, dragging his gargantuan Roller behind him instead of using it to paint the ground. Too heavy, Nolan supposed. But Ah yes! The time limit! Nolan surged forward down the middle of the map, before a familiar face dropped from a platform above.

"(Sorry about that! Did you get the guy?)" Octarian? Nolan turned to see the plucky Octoling jogging beside him, shiny Shooter covering their surroundings.

"(Guy got got, thanks to Ikkan. Are you alr-)" Their conversation was cut short at the sight of a mechanism sliding over the edge of the incline ahead of them. Curling bomb.

"(SPLIT!)" Squisis practically screamed, the two Octarians shifting and swimming in opposite directions to stay out of the explosive's radius. Once it was gone, there was little rest to be had, as two more figures approached over the incline, this time very much Inkling. One was the vile scourge, looking, for lack of a better term, pissed. The other was a new face, or at least it would've been a face, had it not been obscured by the black umbrella that suddenly opened in front of them, spraying ink out it's tip at the hapless duo. Dodges and weaves were made to the side as Nolan slid behind a post advertising cereal, but not before a Bamboozler shot got him in the chest. Ouch.

Okay. Panic. THINK-Panic. Ow. Jr. Short. Hurt. Bomb. Owie. BOMB. Reaching behind his Inktank, Nolan let a Splat Bomb materialise in his hand, filled to the brim with purple ink, just as the Bamboozler jumped around the- PANICDUCKTHROWGOGOGO! The second shot just barely missed his octopus form, and before another one could be let off, a triangular pod of destruction had rolled in front of his feet, the two combatants backing off at high speeds as the ensuing explosion attracted the attention of two more teammates.

As Nolan pulled off to assist Squisis with her umbrella problem, a third Inkling materialised from the ledge above them. Big coat, Dualies, and bright gree- INK ARMOUR! Nolan immediately disengaged, firing off the Splattershot Jr. to no avail as the Inkling moved at lighting speeds, almost rolling through the combined shots of both him and Squisis. With a flourish, both Dualies met mere inches from Nolan's face, a menacing grin on his opponent's. "Gotcha'."

"U-um... I surrender?"

SPLAT

Darkness.

Brightness. Nolan opened his eyes. At his feet, the Spawnpoint spun, signalling it's success at bringing him back. Before Nolan could collect himself and charge back into the fray, the Spawnpoint spun once more, a disgruntled looking Squisis appearing. "No fair!" Noticing Nolan, the Octoling grabbed his hand, practically dragging him back onto the field. "(Times ticking, Suit-n-tie! C'mon! I'm gonna' shove this Aerospray right in that Dualie's face, and you're going to help!)" Not wanting to go against what the fiery teen had to say, Nolan only obliged, looking out to the center to see a retreating Brown struggling to ward off his opponents with his Roller. Ikkan was still nowhere to be seen, but the constant din of small explosions and occasional shout of "SON OF A-" told him the tall Inkling was around somewhere.

Covering up the small splotches of green that peppered the front of their spawn, the pair made made their way back to the front. Brown had long since ditched the idea of fighting back, and was fleeing in squid form, the Dualie user hot on his tail with an odd-looking explosive in their hand. At the sight of the two Octarian's charging towards her, Overcoat tossed the bomb forward, splatting Brown in the process, and broke into a full sprint to meet the challenge, her teammates barely keeping up. Rolling twice, weapons steadied...

...and stance broken, by the sudden introduction of more Explosher shots. Not willing to waste the opportunity, Nolan readied his own explosive, tossing the Splat Bomb at his opponents feet. Without faltering, Overcoat simply rolled backwards, the bomb exploding harmlessly as Nolan recklessly charged forward. Amidst the Explosher blasts, Bamboozler shots, and loud pop music, a new source of stuff appeared, Squisis' having activated her Curling Bomb Launcher and beginning to wildly fire it. At the sight of the approaching doom discs, the Brella user backed off, still cowering behind his fabric shield, but not for long!

Splatted Kjadfm!

Next, the bulky Shooter girl! As it was apparently Special Hour, the Shooter chucked a large machine in Nolan's general direction, the casing shattering and releasing a dense green cloud into the sky. Inkstorm. Nolan struggled to navigate through the stinging drops, his charge significantly slowed as the bulky Shooter tried to take aim through the hail of Explosher blasts. Suddenly, a high-pitched whine tore through the stadium, a pillar of purple erupting out from the direction of their spawn. With some difficulty, the Stingray managed to buy Nolan the time he needed to free himself from the storm, and jump the struggling Shooter. Another one for the Dome Defender!

Splatted ExDee)))!

Now all that remained was Overcoat and-

"Missiles Bro! Get outta' there!" The Bamboozler. Shifting to octopus, Nolan just barely managed to evade the cavalcade of guided Tenta-Missiles that flew out of the sky and slammed into the ground he was standing on but a moment ago. Ahead of him, Squisis had disengaged, pulling further forward as she ducked and weaved around the Inkling's swift rolls, Dualie shots, and sub-weapons.

"Stay still you little scrub!" Unfortunately for the Inkling, her Octarian opponent had no intentions to comply, bringing the lot of them closer to the center of the stage. Nolan kept up the rear, covering as much ground as he could as he struggled to keep a lock on the fight occurring in front of him. Brown appeared from a ledge above the warring pair, but with his slow speed was quickly shot down by the approaching Scourge. Nolan lobbed another Splatbomb towards the direction of the shot, but judging by the lack of second explosion, he supposed he'd missed, until a later second, then third explosion followed, a muffled scream cut short. It was just Squisis, Nolan, and Overcoat in the immediate area, and as the whistle sounded the approach of the ten second mark, Nolan decided it was time to end this.

"Hey Overcoat! You smell worse than me!"

10.

At the insult(?), the Inkling whipped around, quickly manoeuvring to Nolan as he struggled to reach the button on top of his Ink Tank. Ink Armour flared up, colouring his vision a light purple, before instantly shattering as a harmless explosive slammed into him.

9.

Met with the prospect of a 2 vs. 1, Overcoat swiftly rolled back to reorganise themselves, unaware of the small click under their feet. Brown's Ink Mine took her off guard, damaging the Inkling and presenting a giant glowing beacon to the heavens. Everyone knew where the girl was, including their friendly neighbourhood Explosher.

8.

Even Overcoat knew this, and quickly shifted into a squid in order to avoid the globs of ink that were now being hurled at her. As her confidence quickly turned to panic, she failed to notice the Suction Bomb that had been placed in front of her.

7.

Unfortunately, with the Suction Bomb's long fuse, the Dualie user managed to turn the other way, shifting back into her humanoid form and running face first into the silver Aerospray. Splat.

6.

Unfortunately, the time to satisfy the victory was short lived, as a green circle erupted around Nolan's feet. The poor Octarian could only let out a disheartened "Aw..." as the Splashdown descended upon him.

5.

Darkness. Brightness. No slowing down!

4.

Storming down the ramp back into the fight, Nolan sprayed any of the new green spots as he sped by. No time to make it look good!

3.

Off in the distance, Nolan could see Brown and Squisis tussling with the less experienced fighters. Nolan was left inquiring as to where Ikkan was this entire match, until he saw it.

2.

A large, clear ball rolled off the ledge above the center, and despite the distance between the two, Nolan could here Ikkan inside, screaming as he flipped and flopped around, unable to regain his balance as he disappeared into the unseen melee. Codspeed you magnificent squid.

1.

BOOM.

GAME!!!

With that, Nolan froze in place, before Superjumping back to spawn with the rest of his teammates. Ikkan adjusted his somewhat smooshed hat, while their two compatriots highfived, eagerly staring at the screen above them. Said screen lit up, showing a clear, top-down view of the entire stage, now covered in green & purple ink in every crack and crevice. The screen darkened, with some... fuzzy creature covering the map as a drumroll sounded. The CGI was incredible, that creature almost looked real! The Results?

Purple - 62.2% / Green - 36.7%
PURPLE WINS!

Huzzah! Success! The Spawnpoint beneath them gave way to a Launchpad, and the 4 leapt off back to the Squidforce lobby. Surprisingly, Nolan found themselves back in the little lobby room, the list in front of him now featuring scores and statistics for all participants involved. Ikkan had, despite going unseen for almost the entirety of the match, netted himself an incredible 2193 points! Below him was BustaBrown, now back to his birth colour, at 1872 points thanks to the sheer size of that roller. Nolan and SquiSisfan94 were both around the same 1600-area, Nolan just barely squeaking above the girl. Feeling an odd vibration coming from one of his many pockets, Nolan reached down to retrieve the fancy black card. The vidscreen lit up once more, this time displaying two key differences:

businessocto | Level 2 400/2800
Cash: 1057

Nolan had cash already, his credit card still resting in his other pocket, and more than enough of it, if what his superiors had said was true.

But man seeing that number go up felt good.

All 8 cephalopods exited the room back into the lobby proper, a full spectrum of emotions at play. Ikkan had descended into full on belly laughing at his last-second flop with the Shooter girl, Squisis was jumping up and down with excitement, and Brown had a good chuckle along with the Brella user from the other team. Overcoat seemed upset, but kept her cool amidst the guffawing and squeeling. Scourge, meanwhile, was livid.

"You! You purple coward! Can't fucking fight me one on one so you hide behind walls the whole match, eh?! You fucking prick, why don't you fight like a man, you grease-trap, stick-bug-lookin' fuckwit?!" Scourge pointed a trembling accusatory finger at the tall Inkling, who broke out of his laughing fit to look down at the angry, colourful teen. Outside of the match, Nolan could now clearly see the small green earphones and heavy boots the Inkling was wearing, and the vile Bamboozler on his back. Perhaps this encounter could be used as a lesson in Inkling curses, Nolan already taking notes in his head.

"Well, even the Bamboozler has to slow down to shoot, huh? The Explosher is good for dealing with Chargers anyways, and it doesn't help that you kept getting hit by my Sensors. What's the matter pal? That jacket cutting off the circulation in your head as well as your fashion sense?" Scourge's face had become a fiery red, glaring daggers at the smug bassist in front of him.

Nolan feared that a fight would erupt until Overcoat stepped in. "Drop it Mack, let's go do some Splat Zones, blow off some steam." Mack paused to consider his options, before turning and stomping deeper down the hall in a huff, all the while mumbling to himself. Overcoat slammed a hand to her face as her other partners ran after him. Turning to the two Octarians, Overcoat allowed a smile to creep across her face. "You guys did good for single-digits, even managed to get me once! Mad props. Though I gotta' say..." Nolan shrunk a little as her smile slowly became more malicious. "Business, you have a serious B.O. problem. When you raised your hands in surrender... woof!" Aw. That hurt more than the Bamboozler he had taken to the chest. It didn't help that Ikkan and Brown had begun to once again break into taunting laughter, though he supposed he deserved it for taunting her earlier. Overcoat's smile returned to genuine as she turned to Squisis. "But still, GG. Now I gotta go before Mack kills somebody. Toodles!" And with that she was gone, trotting down the hall after her associates, leaving the rest of them to talk amongst themselves.

Brown extended a hand to Nolan. "She's right, Octo-dude, how was your first game? It's Buster, by the way, and the weird-looking squid is Kay."

Nolan took it as he watched Ikkan converse with Kay in Octarian, her eyes lighting up. "Nolan. It was g-great fun, and I a-appreciate your support! What next?"

Before Buster could respond, Ikkan cut the pair off. "I say we do a few more rounds with these two, but with your immense wealth, is there anything you want to get before we go again?"

Nolan knew the answer to that question, looking back down at his 1057C.

"I need to fill my water bottle, get my own pair of sunglasses..." Nolan paused, once again wise to the puddles forming under his arms. "...and some deodorant."

Maybe the stuff of Inkopolis wasn't so bad after all.

Chapter Text

"(UUUUUUUUUUUUGH.)" Thunk.

Marina looked up from the magazine she was reading at the blob sitting at their dining table. Pearl had returned from her outing with Warabi, filled with stories of her return to the family home and the impromptu Octarian lesson they had along with Bella, the maid that Marina had never met before. Unfortunately for Pearl, holding the lesson with Bella meant that, as Pearl said, "her stupid teacher-side came through", and that Pearl had returned home with that dreaded word.

Homework.

Marina couldn't help but stifle a giggle at the sorry state of her friend "Well, I'll give Warabi one thing; That groan of distress was perfectly accented." Pearl stirred slightly, but refused to move from her slumped position, merely letting out another groan.

"Whyyyy...? I haven't had homework in years, and then Bella, in her infinite wisdom, just had to send me home with a packet. A fucking packet. Warabi- he helped her make it! I... ugh. Marina, how do you say "Fuck" in Octarian?"

Marina pouted as she turned the next page of the magazine, a list of popularity ratings for various Dualie variants. "Pearl, you know how I am about you swearing. That's already 50C for the swear jar, and we can't have you in a foreign land cursing up an Inkstorm."

Pearl turned over, a frown stuck to her face. "Either you tell me now, or I'll get Warabi to tell me later."

Unfortunately, that was 100% true, and Marina knew it. "*Sigh*. It's (fuck), happy now? And don't forget that Octarian curses go towards the swear jar as well."

Pearl only grinned slyly. "(Fokc), eh? And how would one spell that?"

"Pearlie. You have homework to do, don't you?" Another disgusted groan, and Marina was left in silence, no sounds left in the room but the ticking of the clock and Pearl occasionally scratching something onto her paper. Oh, it looked like Glooga Dualies were coming back in style, with the Dapple's taking the top spot once again with Squelchers coming in at a close second. The page turning was interrupted by a vibration coming from Marina's pocket, revealed to be a Light notification:

8:52 - //businessoctopus (O)//
Hi there. Just getting the hang of this program and checking in. Are you alright?
8:52 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
Nolan! I'm doing great, just relaxing with Pearl. I hear you had a good time with Ikkan today?
8:52 - //businessoctopus (O)//
I had great fun today. Met a few new friends, and I am now a level 5 splattler, thanks to Ikkan. Tomorrow will be business, however, as Hightideera will be joining us on the plan.
8:53 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
Glad to hear you had a good time! And I completely forgot about Hightide Era, good work! Now, with everyone together, do we have a set date for our departure?
8:53 - //businessoctopus (O)//
To be honest, Feona was approached by them to join, since they saw your post online. I believe we'll have sevral more days to prepaer before moving to Octo Valley, and there we'll handle advertizement, practise, and set up for a few more weeks, perhaps even a month or two, considering the sityuation. Do you think that will do?
8:54 - //M O D DJ_Hyperfresh (O)//
Sounds perfect. We won't let you down!

Marina had admittedly been reading to distract herself from the Internet, but with her website already open, she figured a few more threads wouldn't hurt...

2:50 - //MorieB (O)// BONESSS (S_+29_)
Before I got to the Surface, my most prized posession was a necklace with a rare human bone. It was one of the few things I took with me when I heard the Inkantation, but now that I'm on the surface, my Inkling Splatoon-mates are telling me that human bones are all over the place! Is this true?! To commemorate the few months I've been with them, I'd like to make them similar necklaces as gifts, does anyone know where I could find any?
>//Hafneylee (U)//
Human bones r super cool! U can find em all over the place, usully in forests, around the more poor areas of inkopolis, sometimes even in ur backyards! U can either purchase them from stores (craft shops, pawn shops, the works), or go on a little expedition urself! Tho CAREFUL!!! the law says that the larger ones (the ones you wouldn't want for crafts, like the leg an stuff) need to be turned in fer study! Hv FUN!

Marina sighed. The collection of human bones was seen as enjoyable as collecting stamps or bottlecaps by the Inklings, but the idea was just too macabre for her. Bones should be left alone, let the humans rest after all, but she understood the need for scientific research. Those who used the bones for "art"... weren't bad, per se, but Marina wasn't that type. Next!

6:13 - //jackybannon (O)// Where'd the DJ go? (S_+69_)
With all this talk about Octavio disappearing, stopped and captured, whatever, does anyone know where he actually is? The Leader of all Octarians, a high-profile war criminal, and the leader of BOTH Great Zapfish heists, you think there'd be more fanfare, wouldn't you? I smell conspiracy...
>//corneliusss33 (A)//
Nice.
>//LK7 (O)//
Nice.
>//heyhey56 (U)//
Nice.
>//M O D ikkan (I)//
Nice.
>//surfsupMMM (F)//
Nice.
>//jackybannon (O)//
C'mon guys, grow up. Can we keep the replies serious?.
>//fishfarmer81 (A)//
Nice.
>//i0yable (O)//
Wherever he is, I hope it's in a damp cell devoid of sunlight. After all he's done, that bastard doesn't deserve any.

As Marina moved to set the record straight, she stopped herself. She had been invited to see Octavio, grumpy and stuck in his snowglobe, after the adventure with Agent 8, by Captain Cuttlefish as a gesture of friendship. It would be rude and potentially dangerous to just release the whereabouts of a captured military dictator to the Internet. In fact, now that she was thinking about Octavio, did he know anything about... well, anything, regarding Octo Valley at this time?

The DJ had been freed from the snowglobe just long enough to capture Callie, steal the Zapfish again, and make some changes to Octarian society, before almost immediately being recaptured, though this time with tighter security. Perhaps... perhaps if they were going to shake up the place with their music, Octavio should at the very least know what his people felt. Marina wracked her brain, conflicted at the prospect. To leave the sole leader of the people unaware of an immense change he had missed, or to leave the old jerk to shrivel up and die in that snowglobe as the world moved on without him...

No, it would be wrong to not at the very least inform him, if only to shove it in his face. The only question remained: how to get to him? The only route she knew was the grate outside Ammo Knights that lead to the old Kettle hub for Octo Canyon Sector 1 where he was being held, but she was running out of time, and at 9PM there would still be Splat Battlers out and about, though there would be less of them. And Pearl... no, this kind of matter was not of Pearl's concern, and besides, she was not the most... subtle of people when it came to dealing with DJ Octavio. What she needed now was an opening...

"Grrrrrrr, FORGET IT! I'll finish this tomorrow! I'm going to bed early Marina, you just do... whatever, I don't care. Good- fuckin'- (Gud Nihgt)." And with that, Pearl dropped her pencil to the floor and stormed off, muttering curses under her breath before slamming the door to her room. Thank you Pearl for being awfully convenient when Marina needed it most. Slowly placing the magazine on the coffee table, Marina crept into her own room, careful not to distract Pearl from her bout of whining and groaning. Octarians might have lacked the limbs of their Inkling opponents, but they had a knack for espionage, stealth, and escaping from even the tightest of confines, a trait which Marina used to her advantage as she slowly approached her closet.

Then came the issue of transportation. The Square wasn't crazy far, a good 30 minute jog would get her there no problem, but...

It was so faaar, and her legs huuurt, and Pearl had the caaar, and-

Marina had to hold herself back. She could already see the head line: "Pop Star Disappears for 3 Days! Reappears in Crashed Car of Best Friend!". Yeah, she could deal with going on foot. Donning a hefty trenchcoat and wide-brimmed hat she used to avoid the paparazzi, Marina silently glided across the apartment, Pearl now out like a light and snoring, and exited out the front door. She continued down toward the elevator, but was stopped as the door opened with a *ding*, revealing a tired young adult Inkling with a bulging bag of groceries. The two stared at each other for a good 5 seconds before the Inkling spoke up.

"Uh... you Marina?" Uh oh. She wasn't about to be compromised before even leaving the building!

"Naaah, I get that a lot. I just gotta' snag a drink from the gas station down the road, yeah?" The Inkling, satisfied, smiled weakly before trudging past her.

"'S cool bro, I've been there. Have a good one." And with that, he walked off down the hall, swaying as he went, leaving Marina to enter the empty elevator down to the ground floor. The disguise worked! No more interactions were had as she left the building, breaking into a light jog towards the Square. Even on a winter night like this, Inkopolis was still bustling with activity, people of all types roaming the streets while only their silhouettes could be seen against the street lights. Marina could feel sweat forming on her brow as she pushed past a senior anemone couple. Despite attempting to look incognito, now that she was running across the sidewalk in a trenchcoat, she looked like some kind of Octarian spy, hellbent on chaos. Or perhaps she was simply out of shape, but she didn't want to think about that.

The whole route took only 20 minutes, using a few back alley routes to get into the square in record time, as Marina stepped into the one open entrance at that hour. Just as she thought, there were still a few stragglers around, even an Inkling or two who had fallen asleep on one of the benches around the tower. Her eyes darted around, keeping an eye out for anyone that recognised her, but the trip to the grate was clear until-

"Ah Marina! You're here awfully late! I thought you were on break!" A short horseshoe crab looked up at the trenchcoat-ed figure before him, keys to his shop at hand. Everyone in Inkopolis knew Sheldon in some capacity, be it for his technical know-how or for his weapons store in the square, Ammo Knights. Despite being shorter than even Inklings, Sheldon was a huge deal. Any Splat Battler worth their salt got their weapons from Sheldon, but Marina hadn't considered that he'd be closing the place early! Okay, breath. Breeeath... Say something to him, anything!

"H-hey, Sh-sheldon, mind keeping it d-down a litte? I'm kinda' incognito right n-"

"SHELDON! DON'T CLOSE UP YET! I REQUIRE YOUR SERVICES!" Sheldon let out a quiet groan as Marina turned around to see... some kind of kelp monster running towards them, holding a Range Blaster on his shoulder.

Sheldon reluctantly put on a false smile as the monster approached. "Is something the matter August? And with all due respect, please control your voice at this hour."

August, now revealed to be an Inkling covered in kelp for camouflage, snapped to attention before saluting towards Sheldon. "Sir, the stock on my Blaster has become worn down Sir! I'd like to request a replacement Sir, if I am to perform to the best of my capacity as a soldier, Sir!" Sheldon only nodded, reopening the store and leading the eager Inkling inside, waving goodbye to Marina as he did so. Silently thanking the determined Inkling, Marina shifted into her octopus form, and checking to make sure the coast was clear, she slipped into the grate.

Kettle technology was still fairly misunderstood by Octarians, let alone other species. Even as an engineer, Marina's understanding started and stopped at "ink portals". While the domes were physical entities that were "bigger on the inside", the kettles weren't connected by anything physical. The last time someone in R&D had tried to take one apart, their entire department had been smothered in a kind of "hazardous sludge", and all of it's inhabitants had been seemingly warped to random spaces in Mount Nantai. One in Ridge, one in Valley, one in Canyon, another... No, Marina didn't want to think about him. Just imagining the smell made her want to retch. The experience of travelling through one was even more mysterious. Pearl likened it to "falling sideways, but swimming", and Marina couldn't help but agree.

As Marina approached her destination, doubts began to swell up within her. Would Octavio even give her the time of day after all the tension between them? Was this even worth it? The DJ wasn't exactly the type for conversation. After his escape, there might have even been added security, possibly even one of the Agents standing guard! Then again, Three would never agree to staying up this late, Eight didn't want anything to do with Octavio, and the Cuttlefish family were either too busy or too old to stand vigilant. That only left Four, but Marina knew next to nothing about the groups newest addition. Still, Marina felt that her actions had been too rash, and as the exit grate came into view, Marina shifted back to her Octoling form and stopped herself, grabbing the grate with a loud *CLANG*. She held herself against the current behind her, ear to the grate as she attempted to discern any shift in noise beyond the soft wooshing of the tunnel behind her. Nothing. As Marina turned to leave, a hushed voice broke the silence.

"(...heard something...)" Marina froze, slowly moving back to the grate. Someone was speaking Octarian, and the voice was clearly too feminine for the gruff DJ. It also wasn't nearly bored enough to be Three, and Marina had heard the Squid Sisters more than enough times to know how they sounded. This was someone new, in the Squidbeak Splatoon secret hideout. Straining to stay hidden while also listening for a response, Marina finally heard snippets of muffled mutterings, this clearly being the trapped DJ.

"(...nothing...settling...how...day?...)" What? Were... they having a friendly conversation? It clearly wasn't Eight then. The girl replied, a little clearer now that the supposed intruder was gone.

"(I had...fun! Met...Nolan, and... Turf War! Do... him?)" And the girl had met Nolan! What was going on?! Was she a spy for the DJ?

Octavio laughed, his voice retaining the usual shakiness of his constant octopus form, but spoken loud and confidently, cutting through the glass. "(Kid, if I knew all my subjects, maybe I wouldn't be here! What was he like?)"

The girl, however, remained hushed, making it difficult to hear all of it. "(Nice...pretty good with...smells bad...)" Marina decided that it was time to get to the bottom of this, and shifted back into an octopus for a moment to slip through the grate. Tentakeel Outpost remained just as she'd remembered it, with it's large stone arch leading into the main Kettle Hub, but there had been a few adjustments made by it's current occupants. Most notably, a wooden shack had been erected near the arch, clad in cozy looking pillows and paper lanterns. To her left, a trio of balloons lazily rocked in the breeze, each one painted with little caricatures of Octotroopers of varying strength. It would've been cute, if not for the fact that they were surrounded in a bright yellow ink that covered the ground. Training dummies.

Turning around, the culprits came into view. DJ Octavio, stuck in his snowglobe, still wore his golden helmet, along with a pair of shuttershades. A pair of wasabi roots rested at the bottom of his containment, as the octopus listened intently to what the figure seated in front of him had to say. The figure, sure enough, was a red-haired Octarian female, dressed in One- and Two-star Turf War equipment and an Aerospray resting at her side. Marina took a step towards the two, unknowingly getting the loose sole of her boot stuck in the side of the grate, and with all the grace of a Dynamo Roller, fell flat on her face. Struggling to regain herself, she could now much more clearly hear a mix of horrified screaming and strained laughter. Pushing off the ground, Marina got a better look at the young Octarian's face, who couldn't have been over 17, and that of the DJ, arms crossed and eyes narrowed at her sorry state. "(Well. It appears you were followed. Jokes on me, I suppose.)"

The Octoling let out a high-pitched squeak as she snatched her Aerospray up off the ground, rushing behind Octavio's snowglobe prison and taking up a defensive position. "(Don't move! What are you doing here!? WHO DO YOU WORK FOR?!)" Feisty! Marina would've been impressed by her dexterity had she not had a Shooter pointed at her.

Marina scooted backwards on her rear, hands raised in surrender. "(Whoa whoa whoa wait! I'm unarmed!)" The girl refused to budge, but Octavio just shook his head, motioning for the jumpy Octoling to stand down.

"(Put the toy down kid, I know this one. I'm disappointed in you Ida, you'd think as a proud Octarian you'd at the very least get a better disguise.)" Dang it.

"(Well, I thought it was a good one...)" Removing her hat, Marina let her trapped tentacles flop out around around her, to the shock of the girl.

"(MARINA?!)" The DJ for some reason found this hilarious, bursting into muffled laughter.

Regaining himself, Octavio levelled his gaze onto Marina. Not a muscle moved in her as she returned the glare. Can't scare this Octarian, can you? "(Guess that's what happens when you get a reputation, hmm? Take it from me Ida, you don't get privacy when you're as popular as me. Now...)" Octavio drifted across the snowglobe to address the girl, jumping up and down at the sight of her idol. "(...She's been invited here by her 'friends' before, you haven't. So why don't you respect your superiors and introduce yourself to our 'follower'?)"

The girl nodded frantically, before running over to grab Marina's hand in an incredibly overblown handshake. Dougie had a softer grip than her! "(Ohmygoshohmygoshohmygosh, I love your stuff! Uh- um- my name is Kay Skeena, uh... Designation V2-8391 and- um-, Occupation V2-R5! It's an honour to meet you!)" Kay let go of her hand, saluting towards Marina, who was rubbing her wrists from Kay's vicious grip.

A recon team? AHA, Marina did outrank her! "(Well, would you mind telling me what you're doing with Octavio? Tentakeel Outpost is supposed to be off-limits to us.)" The usual fire in Kay seemed to have died, as she rubbed her arm awkwardly.

Octavio sneered, his eyes peering over the shuttershades. "(Oh yes, please tell Ida how you 'fell' into my life, kid! Trust me, this is a good one.)"

Marina shot a glare of her own at the DJ, but Kay relented. "(I... um... was sneaking around the square as an octopus at night, 'cuz I wanted to get a Seanwich, and...I fell in.)" Well, that wasn't all that unreasonable. To be fair, the fact that she was the first to slip into the grate was a miracle. It was right beside the busiest shop in the equally busy Inkopolis Square.

"(I see. It's alright, I'll need to ask about some kind of lock for this place but... Hold on, once you fell in, then what?)"

"(Well, there was a lot of screaming, then I popped out here! And then I saw Octavio, and there was more screaming and-)"

Octavio groaned, interrupting her. "(Get on with it kid! She wanted Inkling lessons, and I wanted to know what I was missing up there, so we struck a deal in secret. She's been coming here every Tuesday and Thursday, when the Agents are away. There, simple! Remember what I told you kid; When you speak, do it quickly and clearly!)"

Kay looked down at the floor, put down by the lecture. Marina stepped between the two, angrier at the DJ than ever before. "(You're in no position to be ordering her around Octavio! Let her speak!)" This jerk was imprisoned for kidnapping and theft, did he think he deserved any respect, at all?!

Clearly he thought so, as he held up a tentacle to shut her up, eyebrows narrowing further. "(I am her teacher, Ida, and my style of teaching is strict. Now that you've heard our story, let's hear yours. After all, you don't seem to have brought any weapons or Agents with you, so it's not like you're here to taunt me again with that gremlin of yours.)" Marina kept her eyes on the rude DJ, but supposed it was inevitable, and let herself drop into a ratty couch that rested behind the Kettle.

"(Well... in the interest of fairness, Kay, my designation is- was. My designation was C4-8911-F, Flooder development. I am here because... You know Nolan?)" Kay nodded in confirmation, as Marina continued. "(Well, he approached us with a proposition to help fix the domes' poor structure, so we're gathering a bunch of musicians to perform there. A concert. I came here because I felt like you should know, Octavio. I'm beginning to regret it though...)" Marina turned to Octavio, and wow he looked mad, shaking in the snowglobe and causing the sparkles that rested on the floor to swirl around him. "(What's the matter Octavio? Are you upset that people no longer want to listen to you?!)"

Octavio said nothing, seething in his prison, as Kay began to once again jump up and down in excitement. "(Ooo-Ooo-Ooo! Can I come? I want to show Buster the Valley! Where's it going to be held?!)"

Marina shrugged, motioning for Kay to join her on the couch. "(Well, for familiarity's sake, Nolan proposed the arena from V5 that Octavio fought Three in, but now that you mention it, I might try to get Shifty Station back up and running, if only for practicing.)" Kay's excitement was cut by a loud *THUNK* from behind them, turning to see Octavio slamming his head into the glass.

"(Of course. Of course, it has to be in that blasted dome! It has to be about that fight! It has to be about THREE! That... UUUURGH! FORGET CALLIE, FORGET CRAIG, THE NEXT TIME I GET OUT OF HERE I WILL PERSONALLY DUBSTOMP THAT STUPID SQUID INTO THE DIRT!)" Marina shot up from the couch, Kay following her as Octavio continued to pummel the glass with his tentacles. "(That orange trash-heap ruined everything! We had power, for once we had power, and in my moment of victory, I was HUMILIATED! The ultimate weapon of the Octarians destroyed by a ROLLER!)"

*SMACK*

"(And then there was FOUR. 9 TIMES! HE DID IT NINE. TIMES! JUST TO TEST HIMSELF!)"

*CRACK*

As Octavio continued to rant, Marina suddenly remembered the large crack beneath a bandage atop the snowglobe. As Kay tried and failed to calm the DJ down, Marina rushed behind the prison, only to look on in horror as the crack became bigger with each strike.

"(WHAT. AM I. DOING. WROOONG!?)" Before she could yell to Kay, another solid punch shattered the DJ's prison in a shower of glass and glitter. Octavio, fury turning to shock at his strength, then fear, surfed out of the remnants of the globe, covering his head with his tentacles to avoid being speared by the shards shooting every which way. Kay hit the dirt at lightning speed, but the other two were not so lucky. Octavio was hit in a few areas, one dangerously close to his bright green scar and another knocking off the shuttershades to reveal his fearsome green eyes, while Marina, unable to move quickly in the large trenchcoat, felt a spike of pain as a piece of glass struck her in the abdomen. Nothing vital, and the coat softened the blow, but a small patch of blue was beginning to appear below her clothing.

To quote Kay, there was a lot of screaming.

While Marina clutched her chest to contain the bleeding, Kay jumped off the ground, equipment drenched in liquid from the snowglobe, and rushed to the assistance of her superiors. "(I can help, I can help! Don't pull them out, I have an aid kit! And please stop shouting DJ!)" Marina stumbled over to the couch, breathing becoming strained, as she watched Kay hoist a groaning, flailing Octavio to over to join her. The Octoling used her reconnaissance expertise to mend their wounds and stabilise the shards to keep them from doing anymore harm. Marina gained a large wrapping around her waist, while Octavio became a mummy, wrapped in bandages all over the place. So much for outranking the little fireball.

Finishing the last bandage on a grumbling Octavio, Kay got back up, stowing the small aid kit into her pockets, and stepped back to admire her work. "(Alright you two, don't move a single muscle! Can I borrow your phone Marina?)" Keeping one hand on her wound, Marina tossed her phone to the quick-footed Octoling, as she bounced over to the grate. "(Thanks! I'll be back as fast as I can with help! Keep pressure on the bandages and don't hurt each other!)" And with that she was gone, shifting into an octopus and dropping through the grate, leaving the two Octarians alone in silence.

Marina looked over to Octavio, who was wrapped up like a pretzel as he continued to mumble to himself. "(Too old for this... rrrgh... screw this.... gonna... hah... hah...)"

Marina attempted to gesture to get his attention, but the sting in her stomach refused to relent, so she instead cleared her throat. "(So. This is something, isn't it?)"

Octavio ceased grumbling, but didn't respond for a long while, as the two stared off into the night lit only by the stars and the few paper lanterns around the hut. Eventually, the DJ sighed, resting his head on the couch. "(If we're going to be here for a while with glass in us, I figure we might as well... catch up. How's the gremlin?)"

"(Oh! Well, we're doing well. I beat her in the last Splatfest 0-3. But, I will admit, organising this event and talking with other people is good. As nice as Pearl is, sometimes we have our issues.)"

"(Pff, at least the Octarians win something. I don't know how you- ow- stand that squirt.)"

"(Pearl started out as my mentor, you know. The first Inkling I met. I guess she just grew on me.)"

Octavio shrugged, immediately regretting it as he growled in pain again. "(Grrragh... alright, alright. Yeah, that's the problem with being a king like me. Got no heir, got no second-in-command... it's lonely at the top.)" Octavio sounded softer, usual gruff demeanor drifting off as he kept himself still. Maybe it was the glass in his tentacles.

"(Well. you did get Callie for a little while there...)"

Octavio chuckled, shaking his head before stopping himself once more. "(Hah... hahow... Callie? Callie was a collab artist, a motivational speaker, and an incredible boost to morale. I could never see her as my own, or even as a friend. She was just... leverage to me, a means to get back at Craig for everything. I didn't think the people would end up liking her more than me...)"

"(That's... harsh. What happened?)"

"(Well, first she was revealed, full costume and everything, shown off like a trophy...)" Ugh. No matter how soft he was now, and how many shards of glass were sticking out of his tentacles, this was still DJ Octavio she was talking to. "(Hmph. Just because I can't turn my head in these bandages doesn't mean I can't see the look you're giving me, Ida. It was a metaphor.)" 'Kay. Still didn't change anything. "(The public instantly fell in love, and while I schemed and planned in Cephalon HQ, she would go out and interact with my subjects, sign autographs, and just all around spruce up the place. Octo Canyon, if what I'm told is true, is now host to what has been referred to as a Callie Syndicate, or a 'SyndiCallie', as they've come call it.)"

What. "(What on earth is a 'SyndieCallie'?)"

"(I asked the same thing! It's bordering on a cult, every one involved just getting... happier. It's the strangest thing, one day your neighbourhood just gets brighter and covered in stickers and artwork. The morale of Octarian society has sky-rocketed, and it's all thanks to Callie Cuttlefish! Now there's something I never though I'd say in my life.)"

That sounded incredibly strange. Marina pondered as to whether Callie herself knew of this, but decided it best not to push the issue on her. "(Well, maybe if you didn't spend so much time 'scheming', you'd be able to get the same results!)"

"(HA- rrgh, ow. I'm flattered you think I have the same effect as Callie, but she's a pop idol and a movie star, and I'm a grumpy old dictator.)" Octavio's conversation was cut short as the grate of the Kettle began to shake a little, signalling the entrance of another. "(Sheesh, took you long enough kid! Small talk with this one i-)"

In an incredibly rare instance, Octavio froze in fear. Instead of the red Octarian the two had been expecting, a flash of orange shot into the sky from the grate, coming back down in the form of a caped Inkling, the distinct shine of the Hero Suit reflecting the moonlight. Rising from their landing, the Inkling brushed aside their light-orange tentacles to reveal a large turquoise stain over their right eye. Marina gulped, her memories of Eight's terrified shouting coming back to her from the fight the two had had. Though they lacked the Hero Roller Marina often saw them using, Agent 3 was an imposing figure, turning around to see the two Octarians slowly bleeding on the couch.

Three took one look at the two of them, and in an instant transformed from the frightening hero Octarians heard of only in stories, to what Marina knew her to be: a tired, grumpy mess, dropping to her knees and groaning. "Uuuuuugh, I get called in the middle of the night for this? You're splattin' me here Marina, haaah..."

Marina tried her hardest not to laugh at the distressed blob in front of her, less for the humour of seeing what was her worst enemy reduced to a sleep-deprived trainwreck, more due to the glass shard in her stomach. "Wait, you were called he-"

Agent Three clutched her stained face, holding out the other hand to stop her. "No, no no nooo, shut uuup, I'm askin' the questions Marina." Getting off her knees, Three put her hand on her hip, revealing the Hero Shot that rested in it's holster, and marched menacingly towards them. "I gotta' actually do stuff tomorrow, so let's get this over with real quick; Why are you here Marina?"

"I-I wanted to let Octavio know about the plan! You know, t-the concert in Octo Val-"

"Yeah yeah, I know. Next question, chop chop. Why's he out here, and why's the snowglobe FUBAR?" Still, as much of a slob as Three was, she didn't get to do what she did by sitting around and doing nothing.

"W-well, when he heard what I was d-doing, he got mad and smashed the globe wi-"

"-with his tentacles, causing the glass to shatter and the both of you to get shanked, yadda yadda... Well, at least you managed to patch yourselves up... Look, there's probably a lot that I'm missing here, but I can't be bothered to give a fuck at this hour. So Marina, tell Squidbeak before you decide to pull shit like this, 'kay?" Marina could only nod, Three turning to Octavio, who tried to sink into the couch as the agent unholstered her Hero Shot. "And you. You've been a royal pain in my ass, so I'm going to keep this brief: Fuck with anything up here, try to jump ship before the new globe comes in, or mess with the Cuttlefish's again, and I will personally shove this Shooter so far up your rectum, you'll start shittin' orange. Are. We. Clear?"

The usually stoic and gruff Octarian could only retreat so far into the couch, struggling to keep his wrappings steady as he shivered at the sight of the Hero Shot. "(C-crystal- hah- clear.)"

Three returned the Hero Shot to it's holster, returning to her messy self as she backed towards the Kettle. "Uuugh, I just want to sleeeep. Marina, I want you outta here by... I'dunno, midnight, or something. Fuckface, you're not gonna' move a fuckin' inch. I hate both of you, good night." With a flourish of her cape, Agent 3 disappeared into the grate, gone as quickly as she had arrived, leaving the Octarians alone in silence once more.

Octavio coughed awkwardly, unfolding himself from the couch. "(Sheesh, haven't seen Lil' Miss Liberator in a while. That was an experience.)"

"(Three's... kind of a jerk, yeah. But she's been through a lot. No thanks to you. But, back to Callie, have you ever considered... quitting? Just... putting all of the grudges and leadership away and just... stopping?)"

"(Hahrrrgh, not yet. I may be an old, tired failure, being beaten out in popularity by a brainwashed popstar, but I'm not dropping this crown for anything. Craig, Three, not even the shards of glass in my tentacles are going to stop me from taking back what's mine Ida, no matter how long it takes! Either I'm going to prove myself to the people, or I'm going to... fade to black, whichever comes first.)"

Before Marina could respond, the grate rattled again, this time revealing the red tentacles of Kay in a much less impressive entrance, Aerospray on her back with what appeared to be a large toolbox in her arms. "(Oh thank goodness, you're both okay! I did everything as fast as I could! How are the wrappings?)"

Octavio groaned, unable to respond as he continued to shift uncomfortably, leaving Marina to do the talking with her far less grievous injury. "(They're working as intended, thank you for your help. Did you call a doctor?)"

Kay nodded, dropping the toolbox in front of Octavio with a loud *CLANG*, and tossing Marina's phone back to it's rightful owner. "(A Dr. Rhine is waiting back in the square for you with a stretcher! And I don't think Octavio would be alright in the square itself, so I'll try to fix him myself! Can you walk by yourself alright?)" Marina sheepishly nodded, watching as Kay's toolbox opened to reveal a variety of medical supplies, including vials of glowing liquid and a flimsy sky-blue pillow, which she placed behind Octavio's head to rest. It was somewhat disheartening, watching her spin around at the speed of light. While Kay had the medical skills, the speed, and the reliability of an Octarian scout, Marina's military expertise had only really been put to use in Turf Wars with Pearl and in her experimentation, locked up in her room for hours on end with blueprints and research up to her forehead. Reluctantly, Marina stumbled off of the couch, slowly walking towards the grate as she clutched her stinging wound.

"(Hold on Ida! Before you go!)" Marina turned to Octavio, looking panicked as his wrappings started to fall away thanks to Kay's quick fingers. "(Hold on... just two questions before you leave.)"

"(Oh sure dude, why get medical attention when I could talk to you more!?)"

Octavio winced as another dab of the glowing liquid was placed on his wound, but retained a scowl. "(It's a serious request Ida, and while I'm not your leader anymore, I still ask that you hear me out. Will... will the Squid Sisters be going with you?)"

Marina had to seriously ponder it for a moment. The Squid Sisters, though past their prime, were still immensely talented, and the fact that a cult was forming around one of them was more than telling of their popularity. But Marina doubted, after everything they'd been through, and since Callie's last visit wasn't exactly of her own volition, that they'd want to even touch a Kettle for a while. "(We weren't planning on it, no... Why?)"

Octavio breathed out a sigh of relief, but briskly inhaled again as another wound was cleaned. "(AHRRGH- KID! Kid! Stop that!)"

Kay looked up from her work to her very angry patient. "(I need to fix you DJ! It's only going to sting a bit!)"

Octavio shook his head, looking back to Marina, who was already sick of Octavio's presence and on top of the grate. "(A-and if I might make... a request... Don't play the Calamari Inkantation. I'd like to... have something to go back to. That's all I want.)"

"(...Thanks for the suggestion. Now if you excuse me, I still have glass in my stomach, so I'll be taking my leave.)"

Octavio narrowed his eyebrows smaller than Marina had ever seen. "(To quote that sloppy usurper you call a friend, I hate you Ida.)"

Slipping halfway into the grate in her octopus form, Marina figured it was only fair to return the favour. "(Hate you too Octavio)"

Emerging from the other side, Marina was met with an adult inkling waiting for her, with a faded blue moustache similar to Craig's and a tan sweater vest over a set of pajamas. Beside him was a small gurney, covered in a plush blanket, most likely meant for her. As she shifted back to her Octoling form, stumbling off of the grate, Dr. Rhine hurried over to her, the slap of his slippers reverberating around the now miraculously barren square. "Goodness me! Such a vound at zis hour! Kome kome, ve need to fix zis." he insisted, in a distinct accent that made his Cs sound very harsh.

Marina struggled onto the gurney with the assistance of the doctor, covering herself in the blanket to cover her exposed waist from the winter night. "Ah, I...um, I broke a vase in the night. Sorry..."

Dr. Rhine began to push the gurney towards the half-open entrance from the square, moving slowly as to not jostle his patient. "No, zere ist no need to explain. Ze red vun told me. Just be shtill, ze klinik ist just a short trip from ze sqvare." Marina sighed as she stared up into the night sky, covered in clouds with just a few stars poking through. The glass in her stomach gave off more spikes of pain as the gurney rattled along on it's journey to the Inkopolis Central Clinic.

When Marina had first arrived on the surface, trips to the doctor had been fairly common. From the strange new world bringing new sources of pain, having her early creations with Inkling tech blow up in her face, and the occasional overprotective Pearl made it so that the hospital practically knew her by name. She was getting better, and her Octarian tough skin kept her from exploding, but the occasional scientific hiccup did warrant a trip to the doctors. The clinic was much smaller than anything she was used to, it's walls a faded green and only holding a trio of petite rooms for it's patients. The gurney was moved into one of the rooms, Dr. Rhine leaving Marina to her own thoughts as he left the room to change into more suitable attire. Looking around the place she found herself in, Marina could see various pieces of medical equipment, a few nice paintings, and copies of the doctor's various degrees. One in particular caught her eye, a degree in... Humanity? Singular?

The doctor reappeared in the doorway, a bag in hand and out of his pajamas. "Zere ve are. Sank goodness I vas able to stay avake for zis... Now, I'm going to need some of your ink, so ze Inkaid can mix und match your hue, ja?" Marina nodded, shivering as the cold metal of a small tank was placed against her left shoulder, slowly filling with her black ink. Dr. Rhine set about his work, bringing out a pack of glowing vials similar to Kay's. By connecting the two, a few drops of black ink slowly dripped into the vial, swirling around and consuming the entire space in a bright darkness. Spinning it around to complete the mixture, Dr. Rhine turned to his Octarian patient. "Zis vill shting, unfortunately, but it ist necessary. Hold shtill, please." Marina felt herself tense up as the vial was pressed against her undressed wound, before relaxing as the pain steadily retreated into nothing more than a slight tingle. The process was completed several times, each application providing more relief, as the shard was slowly but steadily removed.

Not wanting the room to remain uncomfortably silent, Marina cleared her throat, bringing the doctor's attention away from his tools for just a moment. "I-if I might ask, what does a degree in 'Humanity' entail?"

"Vell, I took zat as extra credit for my medical license, as ze subject intrigued me. As a doktor, I need to understand ze inner vorkings of a multitude of species. Since much of our evolution mimiks zat of our ancient ancestors, ze biology of it all ist fascinating, ja?"

"I- mmph- I see! So you studied humans?"

Rhine nodded, acquiring a set of tweezers and another glowing black vial. "Jup! Zere ist still so much ve do not know about our predecessors, und a Humanity Degree has a multitude of different options for your kareer path. Biology, History, Kulture, all important faktors of ze past. Now, zis should remove ze foreign objekt fully, so please shteady yourself." With a final tug, the shard was torn from her stomach, half covered in a thick blue. The doctor applied the final vial, before covering the stinging wound in another bandage, this time much more professional than the basic field dressing that Kay had performed. Marina slowly sat up, but was urged back down by the doctor. "Not yet, my freund. Ze healing takes time, but you should be out of here before midnight, zat Inkaid ist very strong. Iz zere anyvun I should kontakt?"

Shoot. "Um... I can call my friend to drive me home..." Dr. Rhine nodded, leaving the room to allow Marina some privacy. Fishing around for her phone, Marina paused with baited breath before she could press the call button. She'd snuck out without telling Pearl, gone to an old enemy, and gotten stabbed. How would she even react? Letting the phone ring, the sound of it being picked up brought a lump in her stomach. Breeeath... "H-hello? Pearl?"

"Buh? Whoziz?" Must. Not. Laugh. At. Sleepy. Pearl.

"Uh... Um... Could you... p-pick me up from the Central Clinic? I... got hurt."

"WHA-?" A loud *WHUMP* could be heard through the receiver, along with the fluttering of papers and various slurred expletives from Pearl. Oh no... "I'll be right over!" Click. Her groan must've been pretty loud, as Dr. Rhine came back through the door way, a concerned look on his face.

"No, I'm fine! My friend can just be... overprotective." The doctor gave a knowing nod, revealing a pair of steaming mugs as he sat down beside her.

"Hm! I kan relate! Tea?"

Marina shook her head. "No thanks, I don't need any." The doctor shrugged, placing the second mug alongside his tools and taking a cautious sip of the green liquid. Keeping scalding liquid anywhere near medical equipment seemed completely unprofessional, but medicine was the work of scouts and doctors, not engineers, so Marina kept her judgements to herself. "Do you also have overprotective friends?"

Dr. Rhine finished another sip of his tea, satisfied. "Not a freund no, my daughter. She vishes to bekome a doktor like me, yet... perhaps she ist too invested in her trade of choice, ja?" Marina nodded, feeling more relaxed as the pain slowly subsided and the mood of the room lightened. "She keeps me in ze praktice, but she ist shtill a child. Just today, she kame talking to me about some musikal event und begging me to go vith her." Um. "Apparently it's held in someplace kalled Okto Valley..." Uh. "...Rings a bell, but I kannot for ze life of me place it." ...Whew.

It occurred to Marina that the doctor had made no mention of her appearance or character. Perhaps he didn't feel it necessary to be brought up, perhaps he was toying with her in some way... Marina stopped herself. She had said herself that Inklings were stupid, and as educated as the doctor was, he probably just... forgot. It was... a little depressing, knowing that an entire society that they had been enemies of for years just didn't remember they existed. If anything, it made her more determined to see the Plan through, if it meant nice Inklings like Rhine would learn of their plight.

Doctor and patient sat engaged in small talk for a few more minutes, mostly on the subject of Dr. Rhine's daughter Lucia, who was apparently doing quite well in school. Their chat was cut short however, by the sound of screeching tires outside, followed by a series of slammed doors. Iiiit's Pearl. The door to the room was thrown open to reveal Marina's messily dressed partner, breathing heavily as she leaned against the frame.

"HOHMYFUCKYOU'REOK!" Pearl rushed over to the gurney, bringing Marina into a hug that was just a little too rough considering her condition. "Never scare me like that again 'Reena! Why are you out here this late?!" The doctor, seeing their embrace, respectfully left the room to allow the two of them to catch up.

"It's alright Pearl, I'm fine, relax! I... I wanted to t-tell Oc- *ahem* the DJ about the concert, and I didn't tell you because I thought you'd upset him..." Huh. Looking back on that line of thinking, it didn't really matter that much did it?

Pearl looked to Marina, then her bandage, then back to Marina. "And he fuckin' stabbed you. Lotta' good that did you huh, you moron."

"No no no, It's not like that! When I told him, he got mad, a-and-"

Pearl brought Marina into another tight hug, a little lighter on the wound this time. This stuff really did work fast. "Apbapbap, shush. We're both tired as fuck Marina. Let's get back home, get some sleep, then you can tell me everything. Are you feeling alright to head back?"

Marina nodded. The cut was still there, still open and dangerous, but the bleeding had stopped along with the stinging. "Yeah... yeah, I'm good." Marina slowly sat up, the blanket drifting off her body onto the floor, and slid off the side of the gurney. Folding the blanket and placing it back on the gurney, the pair went back into the lobby of the clinic to meet up with Dr. Rhine, who had placed himself behind the front desk with his tea still in hand. Pearl swiftly paid for the treatment, along with some extra medical supplies, "just in case", and before long the two were in the car on the ride home. Marina looked up into the pitch black sky as they rolled down the road, the stars invisible due to the lights of the city. The concert couldn't come soon enough.

...

Nolan flicked on the light in his room, revealing the brilliant comfort before him. He had gotten much to carried away in his spending, and what had began as an outing with a friend had turned into a night time shopping spree. It was nearly midnight, and as he dropped the duffel bag into his closet, the adrenaline of the Surface finally crashed, giving way to fatigue and exhaustion. Turf Wars- no, "Splat Battles" was the general term- were much more enjoyable than he had expected.

Slipping out of his Turf War gear into a cosy undershirt, Nolan passed by his bulky portable radio, resting on the desk beside the tea kettle. He had expected to provide constant updates to his associates back home, but with the hotel's rules in place, he wasn't even permitted to turn it on, lest the radio waves interfere with... other radio waves? Nolan didn't understand it 100%. but such rules were usually put in place from experience, so he hadn't pushed the issue. Still, to have no contact with his employer...

His train of thought was broken at the sight of a large, flat, brown object resting on his bed. He had made his bed before leaving and locked his door, where did that come from? Did the hotel leave him a gift of some kind? Sliding on to the bed, Nolan cautiously tapped at the object. Paper. An envelope, to be precise, bearing his name in bold, black letters along with "URGENT" written along the bottom. Nolan didn't want to have to spend more time awake in a shower, but as his nervous sweating returned, he felt like he'd have to. Before that, though, if this was truly urgent... Nolan slowly tore open the top of the envelope, revealing a folded, cream-coloured letter. His eyes drifted across the paper, dread creeping into him as he read out the thick blocky Octarian type:

V3-8261 NOLAN

WHERE ARE YOU

THERE IS NO TIME FOR SIGHTSEEING

RESPOND TO THESE QUESTIONS BELOW ASAP

ONE DID YOU FIND MARINA IDA YES OR NO

TWO IS YOUR RADIO WORKING YES OR NO

THREE YOU ARE BACK HERE BY FRIDAY NIGHT YES OR NO

WRITE DOWN YOUR RESPONSES AND PUT THIS LETTER IN THE ENVELOPE

PLACE IT ON YOUR WINDOWSILL FOR RETRIEVAL

THE PLAN CANT FAIL

C.B.

Oh dear. The lack of communication was clearly screwing things up, if Octo Valley had resorted to using snail mail. How the letter had even made it into his locked hotel room was beyond him. One could cut the tension in the room with a kitchen knife, Nolan's grip on the letter shaking. Rushing over to the desk, Nolan fished around in one of the drawers for a complementary pen bearing the hotel's name. Looking back over the paper, Nolan circled his answers.

Yes, he'd found Marina. Her sunglasses were still in his bag.

Yes, his radio was working, though he could not use it, so he wrote a short reply. Tomorrow, perhaps sometime in the evening, he'd attempt to operate the radio elsewhere.

And... Yes, yes they would be back by Friday. The closest Kettle Hubs in the Square had been taken over by Inkling Agents, so in order to get everything and everyone into the domes, there would have to be some travelling closer to Mount Nantai. K12, Humboldt Hold, would suffice for their purposes, but it would take a good two hours by car, if the Inkling Map application on his phone was correct. The logistics of everything would be an utter nightmare though! Such an important move in two days! Circling the final answer and dotting the final I, Nolan diligently placed the letter back into it's tough envelope, but not before going over it once more.

"(Place on windowsill for... retrieval?)" Nolan whispered to himself, slowing moving over to the window. He wasn't very high up, but the view was incredible from up there. Sliding open the glass, Nolan took a cautious look around. No cameras or anything, just AC units and windows all the way down to the brightly lit ground. Slowly, Nolan placed the envelope onto the edge, careful that the wind was incapable of blowing it away. A few seconds passed in silence, before in an instant a gloved hand appeared from below, snatching the letter. Nolan poked his head out of the window, and froze in fear at the pair of bright red lights looking up to greet him. Hooked to one of the AC units was an Octoling in full combat gear, rappelling downwards with the envelope in their clutches. They stopped as their eyes met, lifting a finger to their lips.

"(Tell no one. We're counting on you.)" Swiftly descending two more floors, the Octoling pushed off of the wall and swung into the open window in front of him, leaving Nolan in his undershirt staring at the lights below. Slowly backing up, Nolan dropped back into his bed, a mix of exhaustion and fear stuck smothering him like a woollen blanket. Alright. Just get all of them prepped and packed in 2 days. Simple, right?

Right?!

Chapter Text

48 Hours Remain

"TWO DAYS?!"

Marina looked up from her laptop to the shocked Pearl, sighing. "That's what the message says. We leave for Octo Valley on Friday, so we'll need to pack and get ready before then."

"Well what the heck are we doing sitting around here!? We still need to secure that Zapfish, tell the producer, get the heli off of Sheldon, all that!" Stuffing the last corner of toast into her mouth, Pearl made a mad dash for her room, leaving Marina and the pancakes Pearl had made for her in the dust.

"Pearlie, calm down! We can do everything once I've finished breakfast!"

Judging by the ghastly screams coming from the bedroom, Pearl would not be calming down for a while.

...

47 Hours Remain

"Uuugh... Friday? Like, for real? Can't this wait?" No, blob of blankets that sounds like Ikkan! This cannot wait!

Warabi dug in as he tugged on the sheets, a groaning and moaning Ikkan hiding underneath. "Come- hrrrgh!- ON! There's a ton of trash that we need to do! Neither of us are prepared for this! Get- arrgh!- UP you lazy jerk! If I'm going back to Humboldt Hold, I am going to do it- gaaargh!- RIGHT, and you are coming with me!"

"Just... 15 more minutes Warabi. Just gimme' 15, 'kay?" Giving up, Warabi dropped to the floor, panting in exhaustion from trying to dislodge the Inkling from his bed.

"Inklings... hah, hah... so lazy... hah..." Once recharged, Warabi shot up, jabbing a finger at his bundled partner. "You get 15, than we are mobile! Got it, you blobfish?! I gotta' get my ID card and clean Lucy, and I'll need something actually decent looking... you too, if any Octolings see you shirtless you are DONE!"

'Aye-aye, Captain Warabi... now go away iss sleepy time."

...

46 Hours Remain

"Team meeting! Everyone 'ere for a team meeting!" Fiona clapped her fins together, summoning the rest of her bandmates to the van as she stood atop it's roof, the rising sun illuminating Fuka's little blue shack on the beach. One by one, the group stopped what they were doing, leaving half-tuned basses and unpacked drum-kits along the ground. "Right! Ah've just go'en a message from tha' Nolan fellow! We leave on Friday! So I want all of ya's to finish up here, and get packin'! Nolan an' I are going to meet up with Hightide Era, so I'll be out for a long while! Any questions?"

A mix of nervousness and excitement flashed through the band, as Fiona let her legs dangle over the rear doors. "Any at all?"

Fuka raised his fin in the air. "Wot's th' food loik down the'e? Ye' know 'ow Oi get when Oi don' get moi meat fix..."

Truth! The rest of them could handle a change to a local diet, but a shark without meat is not a happy shark. Unfortunately, the website Marina had sent her had provided a snapshot of the Octarian situation. "The food's no good down there luv. There's ye' job for the day then, stock up on some cured meat!" Fuka reluctantly nodded, not 100% on board with being denied the fresh stuff, and went back to cleaning the van. A very tired Blow and Murutā joined him, while Tangle held back and raised his own hand.

"Kin ah breng-"

"Sorry, answer's still no, luv." Tangle didn't need a mouth to look dejected, and joined his fellow bandmates in packing the equipment away. Fiona looked down at her friends as the dutifully packed everything away, and began daydreaming what that Octo-Valley place would be like. Playing in pubs was getting old, time for an adventure!

...

45 Hours Remain

The pub was much quieter during lunch, brighter too with the large windows letting plenty of natural light in. Sunlight, a symbol of hope for Octarians like Nolan, who had informed the others of their new departure date to much disappointment and groaning, and was now entering the Salty Seaweed to meet up with Fiona and Hightide Era. Despite the volume of people in all shapes and colours, the bright flowing hair of a tropical fish like Fin Bottom stood out like a sore thumb. Seated across from her in the booth was a trio of different species, of which Nolan only recognised two. Herring were incredibly common everywhere, even a few had taken up residence around Octo Falls, if what he had been told was true, and seated next to the window... a Stonefish!

Few species warranted express warning for Octarians, but in his briefings on the surface, one of the slides was on the Stonefish. Said to be an evolutionary trait to ward off predators, Stonefish were the most venomous fishfolk in the known world, their spines injecting more than enough venom to spla- no, kill! Inklings splatted, but there had been cases of threatened Stonefish killing their opponents in an instant! No matter how laid back they appeared, Nolan still kept his distance as he observed them chat with their associates. The fishfolk between them, Nolan couldn't quite tell, but his mind was completely focused on the Stonefish. He would have stayed there for a lot longer had Fiona not noticed him and waved him over.

Nolan took his seat, setting the thick briefcase down beside him as he warily kept his eyes on the Stonefish. "H-hello there. Thank you for joining us."

The mystery fish extended a hand for Nolan to shake, which he cautiously took. "'Course man! Thanks for lettin' us in this late in the game! This sounds like a big opportunity, and I'm not gonna' let Ink Theory beat me out this time!"

The Herring shook his head. "Taka, come on man. Can't we just have a normal discussion without you mentioning Ink Theory?" The mystery fish Taka folded his arms in a pout, while the Herring put his own hand out for a shake. "Sorry about him. I'm Nishida, the guitarist, Taka's our pianist and vocalist, and the big guy is Kuze, our drummer. A pleasure to meet you."

Kuze, the Stonefish, followed along with another handshake, but Nolan recoiled, still fearing the venom. Kuze looked confused at first, before catching on, a warm smile forming. "Relax mate! I'm not goin' to 'urt ya! You're not the first to get spooked, no worries!" A little calmed by his reassurance, Nolan took his third handshake today.

Fiona clapped her hands to get their attention. "Right! Thank you all for comin' 'ere! All we need to do is give you the specifics and fill some paperwork. Sound good luv?" A trio of nods greeted them. "Perfect! Nolan, the details!"

Of course. Time for business.

...

44 Hours Remain

"You stole her hat?"

Octavio stretched out along the couch, the smug Octarian despot he was. The snowglobe still had to be replaced, so he had been left to lounge on the couch as Squidbeak waited for a new prison. Agent 3 had been ordered to check up on the slimy dictator in the meantime, a position she was not happy with. So imagine her shock when the bleeding bandaged mess she had witnessed last night had mysteriously gained the new beige accessory in less than 12 hours.

Octavio shrugged, more relaxed now that Three wasn't actively pointing a Hero Shot to his head. "What? It was a bad disguise, she left it here, and the crown tends to get itchy if I leave it on for too long. It's not like you people are giving me any luxuries..."

How this... thing ruled over anything was a mystery Three would never solve. "Luxuries?! You're practically a prisoner of freakin' war! If I got my way, you'd be rotting in the rusting hold of an old cargo ship after everything you've pulled!"

"Prisoners of war still deserve some manner of respect. I am a general, an-" Oh... oh for the love of-

Three let her near-empty cup of coffee hit the floor and reached for the trusty Hero Shot Mk 0. Sheldon may have improved the design, but nothing beat the original. "Listen here you grimy, barnacle-sucking fuck, do you want to know what you are? You're a joke. You're not a 'general', you're just scum to scrape off the bottom of my boot. After all the shit I had to deal with in Kamobo, I can't even call you the biggest threat I've faced, you utter stain on Octarian kind." Octavio visibly recoiled at the Agent, an imposing presence as Three came dangerously close, eye to eye.

"A. Joke."

"Ha."

"Ha."

"Ha."

Three, rant over, dropped down into the chair in front of Octavio, who was practically sinking into the cushions. Several more minutes passed by in complete silence, as the two stared at each other in mutual distrust. Three couldn't help but notice that Octavio had grown softer, less blatantly obnoxious when they had first met on the battlefield. As grumpy as she was, maybe... maybe it was time to slow down a little. "DJ... what's wrong with you? Are you so delusional that not even gettin' jailed twice will stop you? Are... are you OK man?"

The DJ breathed slowly, wise to the change in tone. "Well... not while I'm here, no. I need to go back down there Agent. I have a duty to fulfil, to lead my people to victory for once in my life. You wouldn't understand, all you've done is win."

Three squinted at the audacity of this octopus. "Are you saying I've never lost? I'm a mess of caffeine addiction and bruised joints, thanks to your troops. I was thrown into a dark test facility without any instruction or direction for several weeks. And my face." Three slid off her chair, leaning into the DJ with her Hero Shot at her side, jamming a finger into the stained half of her face. "Look at my fuckin' face. This shit here is irremovable, and this is a constant reminder that I almost killed my friend while I had my head filled with some stupid brain sludge. Fuck. You, man. Do I get fanfare? Do I get flowers and confetti for saving the Zapfish and then indirectly the world? No. I get nothing for my work but a pat on the back from Agent 1 and a signed Squid Sisters album." Three backed off, rubbing the turquoise stain as her sour expression slid off. It was gross, the affected skin had become wrinkly and wet. She didn't even know if she was fully cured... The phone could still be in her head...

Octavio adjusted Marina's hat slightly, sitting and silently listening to Three as the two were once again locked in a heated staring contest. Even more time passed before he dared open his beak again. "S-so... how about that Ida and her big plan, huh? Will you be going, to splat more of my subjects?"

Three squinted in bewilderment. Everything she'd said must've gone in one ear and out the other. "Excuse me? And... are you accusing me of splatting innocents?"

"Well, I assumed she told you. That concert thing she's planning. You know, where she's going to steal my audience and insult me, and such."

Three refused to let her guard drop, continuing to glare at Octavio, "And why should I tell you? If you're planning something, it's not going to work."

Octavio shook his head, Three's aura of fear not fully quenched. "N-no, no! Sheesh, can't a guy be curious?! It seems like a big deal, and you two look to be pretty buddy-buddy n-."

The nosy little cephalopod got a face full of Hero Shot in an instant. "Shut. Up. It's time to play the quiet game Octavio. 15 minutes before Agent 4 gets here, so that I can go home, and you can get fed. Does that sound good to you? Because that sounds great to me."

That shut him up. Three silently prayed that Four would also have an extra cup of coffee on them.

...

42 Hours Remain

"Welcome to Ammo Knights!"

Nolan had just come off of a rather upsetting loss alongside Kay and Buster, but all of the grief over the failure was tossed aside the second he was led in by Kay. Now Level 8, he had been curious about a replacement for the trusty Splattershot Jr.. Though admirable in combat, he had been using it since Level 1, and with the variety of weapons that were being encountered, it was time for a change of pace. The shop he had entered, Ammo Knights, was a sight to behold. Weapons and equipment of all shapes and sizes lined the walls on all sides, while tools for cleaning and maintenance sat in glass cases in front of the counter. Despite the shop's fairly small size, the place was bustling with activity. Inklings, Octolings, even a few Fishfolk browsed the wares for sale, chattering about terminology which Nolan was still unable to understand.

Buster lazily hung back with Nolan while Kay bounced about grabbing random weapons off the racks "So, you got a style you prefer bro?"

Having not touched a weapon since... yesterday, wow... "Not really. I'm enjoying the Jr., if that says anything. I just want to switch things up."

"'s cool man. You're only level 8, don't gotta' commit to nothin' yet. I'm sure Kay's got a nice selection goin'. Speakin' of which, think she's done..."

Sure enough, the redhead Octoling had returned with an entire arsenal of Ink Weapons in her arms, appearing as a pile of Rollers and Splattershots with legs. "Alright! I got a whole bunch right here, so let's get to the firing range quick before Sheldon notices I took more than one! Come on you!" Torn away from the sensible half of the pair, the two Octolings entered into a bright green Launchpad near the rear of the store, dropping them off in the so-called "firing range". The area was a simple metal enclosure, with a trio of balloons to his immediate front among a series of catwalks and ramps. The ground was a hard black concrete, periodically cut with dotted white lines, implying distance. If it wasn't for the sun shining down on them, Nolan would've felt at home.

Kay, hair now the same green as the launchpad, fished out her own silver Shooter from the pile, which Nolan had been told was called an Aerospray, and motioned for Nolan to grab one for himself. "(Since you're level 8, you don't have the biggest selection, but I got everything you can use right now. Pick your poison!)" The next half hour was spent calmly popping balloons in more ways than Nolan had once thought possible. Though many of them clearly weren't his thing, most notably the Chargers and Blasters, a few caught his attention.

First, as an upgrade to the Jr., the standard Splattershot was not as bulky or as heavy as the Octoshot, but with it's Burst Bombs and Splashdown, it was a notable improvement to the Jr.. Next, unlike Buster's enormous "Dynamo" Roller, the much smaller Carbon Roller was incredibly manoeuvrable, and while admittedly weak in the damage department, the easy-to-use Specials and the capacity for an instant splat with a downward strike made for a potent weapon. As a third option, the new concept of "Dualies" interested him. The weapons were only just being introduced to the Octoling soldiers in specialist roles, but as Nolan got used to the rolling, and with memories of Overcoat-whatever-her-name-was walking all over him, the prospect was looking increasingly profitable.

Once satisfied with their experimentation, the pair left the range, returning to find a very bored Buster on his phone and an upset looking... some kind of really short crab. Was this the "Sheldon" that would get upset with- Oh. Probably.

"Kay, we talked about this. Bring the weapons you want to purchase to the front, but I want all the rest back in their proper place, understood?"

Looking back at the pile, Kay sheepishly scratched the back of her head "S-sure thing, sir."

...

41 Hours Remain

Pearl loved videogames. She'd played tons, especially when she was younger, for hours on end, much to the dismay of her father and guardian. While her job left her with much less free time, video games had left her with many valuable life lessons.

Most notably, when presented with a large wooden chest, there will always be goodies inside, no exceptions. Just like the one she had just discovered in Marina's closet.

Her partner had left the apartment to pick up some stuff for the trip, along with some food for dinner, so in a show of friendship, and perhaps as an apology for her outburst that morning, Pearl had resigned herself to cleaning up the apartment. One misplaced sweatshirt later, and she was staring at a big dark-green trunk just behind a stack of jackets. Now, Pearl was not one to snoop, buuut...

"Boy howdy I sure hope nobody sees me breaking into Marina's stuff and messing with her privacyyy!" ...Nope, nothing. Perfect.

Struggling to free the chest from it's clothing-covered prison, Pearl dragged the treasure to the center of the room. Upon closer inspection, the chest wasn't really of the ancient, treasure-filled variety, more an "antique", the kind you'd get at a thrift store for 1000C after a theatre company had no use it for it anymore. In fact, a quick inspection of the reverse of the box revealed the hurriedly peeled price sticker. 1069C. Not far off. The latches had no padlock, and with an experimental shove, the top was thrown off, revealing Marina's secret stash.

Admittedly, Pearl had been going in with high hopes, so at the sight of the shining steel outerwear, Glee had turned to disappointment, then curiosity. What even was this stuff anyway? Some kind of metal underwear, black, smelly cotton clothing, and a pair of scratched... goggles! This was Marina's armour! Ohoho, the plot thickens! It had escaped her, but looking back at their first meeting, the "metal underwear" was now clearly Marina's chestplate from back then.

Beneath the armour was that big funky-looking Splattershot. It looked really sleek and chunky, a shiny black instead of the iconic lime-green plastic. Beside it was an Ink Tank, similar in size and shape to what Inklings used, and a bunch of pieces of paper covered in Octarian. Tickets of some kind. Setting the papers back inside, Pearl gave the goggles a closer inspection. The things were pretty industrial looking, heavy padding and small slits to look through, but they had a style to them. Putting them on took a bit of adjusting, with her... compact form, but once again, she was met with disappointment. Marina used to fight in these? Maybe there was a way to turn them on...

"Start program!" Nope.

"Abrakadabra!" Nuthin'.

"A-A-A-A-A... 1-2-3!" ...Darn. That should've done something... Maybe there was a button that she had missed..

"Activate. Code: Maelstrom. Override. Code: Hyperfresh." Oh! That worked! Thanks Marina's disembodied voice!

.....

WAIT.

Apparently, Octolings were as good at sneaking in as they were at sneaking out. Marina leaned on the doorframe, looking down at the compact Inkling covered in her clothes. Huge plastic bags full of groceries in her hands, and a ratty brown cap on her head that still had the price tag on it. Oh Marina, this is why you don't shop by yourself. "Pearl. Wh-... why are you in my stuff?"

There really was no benefit of the doubt, Pearl in the goggles with the open trunk and armour all over the floor. "S-sorry... I was cleaning up the place, and I found it in your closet. Why didn't you tell me you kept your armour? This stuff is pretty cool!" Admittedly, she was kind of exaggerating. The stuff wasn't her style, but with all the neat tech in the goggles and the hardcore Splattershot, not even mentioning the sentimental value that Marina had in it, Pearl was considering getting her own somehow. Maybe if the goggles were gold...

Marina clearly didn't think so, waving a hand in front of her face. "Deactivate. Code: Maelstrom. Take them off, Pearl. And give them to me." Pearl reluctantly obliged, removing the inactive goggles off her face, disoriented from the lack of bright green text in her face. Marina let her bags drop to the floor, motioning for Pearl to stand up. Sliding the eyewear back to their rightful owner, Pearl looked up into her solemn partner's face, who had begun to put them on herself. The scratches and scuffs, the way the strap hugged her tentacles... Just like back then.

"So you remember? That night on the mountain?"

"Duh! How could I forg- Grrk!" Pearl was cut short by a tight squeeze, as Marina's hug lifted her into the air.

"Thank you... I never got a chance to say it, but thank you. For everything. You're the best friend an Octoling could have." Hugs... solve... everything...

"Marina-..."

"...Yeah Pearl?"

"...Choking-...me-..."

"Oh! Sorry!" Marina finally released her iron grip on Pearl, leaving her to gasp for air on the floor. "I'll- um... I'll start dinner."

"Sounds...hah...good... I'll... finish cleaning... hah..."

...

37 Hours Remain

"Remind me again why we're in the middle of the woods this late!?" Ikkan grumbled, shambling through the trees after Warabi.

"We're here because I need to grab something very important, and you have a truck. I don't. Now shush you, I need this." Batting away the leafless limbs and crashing through the shrubs, Warabi marched deeper into the forest. It had to still be there.

Ikkan only shook his head, continuing to stomp through the dead leaves in the darkness, flashlight in hand. "I'm sure you do man, but couldn't this wait? It's... what, like, 8 o'clock? And a little information on this 'very important thing' would be appreciated!"

Warabi's breath became raspy, beginning to break into a jog. "I... hah... need to find it now! We're running out of... hah... time!" That rock looked familiar, it had to be here.

The Octoling's advance was halted by a hand grasping his shoulder, spinning around to reveal a thoroughly upset Ikkan. "Stop right now, and tell me. I know this Octo Valley thing has got you riled up and breaking down again, but I need you to be 100% with me, man."

"I... I..." There... Shining... "...I found it. Put the light over there again." Ikkan begrudgingly obliged, pointing the flashlight back where it had been a moment before, the light bouncing off of something metallic buried beneath the leaves. The cargo container was rusting and still, it's Anti-grav functionality completely kaput, but if everything was still there...

Warabi slowly approached the metal crate, it's very presence a reminder of what he'd done, and would soon do. The memory of the escape. The journey. The rebellion. Anger turning to fear, then joy, then fear again. And then Ikkan met him in an alleyway. The crate's destination had been to the Canyon, but it was his ticket out of that dump. A beautiful mess it had all been. Fumbling in the darkness, Warabi managed to find the lock that held his secrets within.

"Warabi. Steel boxes don't just appear in the woods. Either this is some funky Octarian supply drop, or this is your doing. Explain. Right now." Ikkan said, moving closer to the lock as Warabi retrieved the key from his pocket, opening the obstacle with a satisfying click, and slowly lifted the heavy stuck-on lid. Inside... was garbage. It had been a food shipment, emphasis on had, and all that was left of it's original contents was an assortment of jars and moldy packaging. But, on top of the garbage, lay a small piece of coloured plastic, displaying the picture of a red-haired Octoling. Beneath the layer of trash, the glint of steel in the darkness glowed. Ikkan took a closer look at the card beside Warabi, grumbling replaced with awe. "Oh. Oh shit. I don't think I've ever seen you without piercings before."

Warabi Watanabe. V3-8557. Logistics Officer, Support Company C. The old life he had quite literally thrown with the trash, staring him right back in the face. Time to try again. "Ikkan. Help me carry this to the truck. I've got some work to do."