Chapter Text
Faye was woken by the obnoxious rattle of old pans – a now-regular occurrence she was starting to despise – and adamantly buried her head under the pillow to try and block it out. She’d praised Eight for learning how to make pancakes one time and the octoling had insisted on making them every day since. It had been a month. Faye was sick of pancakes and the grating noises this ancient cabin created in the process of making them.
One day she’d have to go home, face her mother after being gone for so long, and hope the older woman would be in a decent enough state; the stench of cigarette smoke had finally faded from Faye’s clothes, and she wanted them to remain that way. It was going to be a horribly messy encounter, whenever it happened.
At the very least, Eight deserved to have some space to herself. There was only one bed in this place, shitty as it was, and Faye had been given mattress rights when she was recovering from what that phone had done to her. A few months had passed now, though, and while she didn’t feel perfect, this was probably as recovered as she was going to get. Eight had been sleeping on a two-cushioned couch every night, and though it probably wasn’t a huge step down from the awful lumpy mattress, it wasn’t great for her, either. Every time Faye tried to suggest they swap, though, Eight was adamant that she was fine.
Eventually the clattering stopped, and with the sleepy feeling of relief, Faye shoved the pillow back under her head and curled up to try and get more sleep. She had just about drifted off when a plate was enthusiastically placed on the bedside table with a painful-sounding clink.
“Pancakes!” Eight cheered, the floorboards creaking a little as she hopped back up to full height and rocked excitedly on her heels.
Faye stifled her irritated groan as much as she could. It wasn’t that the octoling annoyed her, just… she wished Eight would leave her alone more. Faye was not a social inkfish, and Eight was definitely evolving into more of one the longer she was on the surface. “You can have ‘em. I’m not hungry.”
The creaking stopped. “Breakfast is important. Captain says so!”
“The Captain says wearing your hat backwards is a trendy fashion statement,” Faye huffed. There was no sound of retreating footsteps, though, and she knew Eight was only going to stand there and stare at her until she agreed to eat. “Alright, fine.” If anything, the octoling’s presence was prompting her into eating a healthier number of meals per day. Perhaps she could force herself to be optimistic with that.
Eight seemed content with her victory as Faye sat up, and the octoling clapped her hands together before skipping over to the old wooden table where her own plate sat. It was piled high with such a mountain of pancakes that it made Faye feel a little nauseous just to look at, and she started to wonder if maybe octopi had a secret second stomach.
Looking down at the plate on the side table, despite it being a much more manageable portion, Faye didn’t feel like eating. She started concocting various plans in her mind as to how she could dispose of these things without Eight noticing or catching on, without much success, but her brainstorming was interrupted as she saw the notification light blinking on her phone. Her brow furrowed in confusion as she plucked her phone from the table, pulling out the charging cable she’d left in overnight. She rarely ever got messages from anyone and she’d turned off notifications for the group chat ever since the Captain sent her on unofficial leave from her unofficial job, so who…?
The screen flashed up, and Faye just about managed to stifle a noise of surprise as she tapped on the almost spiderweb-looking cracked screen to open her messages. She hadn’t expected any further communication from this contact, but there was a small part of her that felt glad to hear from them.
Well, until she actually saw the message, at least.
[09:47] Hey sorry to bother you but 4 has been bugging me for your number so he can contact agent 8
[09:47] something about wanting her to meet some friends of his who are looking for a fourth member of their team
[09:51] ofc you don’t hat to do anything sorry if this is an inconvenience
[09:51] have** sorry its 9am
Faye decided to not mention that it was almost 10am when she sent this and rolled her eyes. Of course Marie wasn’t messaging her because she wanted to talk to her; why would she? There had been a time when Faye actually had the vaguest feeling of friendship with the Squid Sisters, but their busy lives had drawn them all apart and she’d started to doubt they ever saw her as anything more than the squid that’d helped them save their grandfather once.
[10:24] I don’t like giving guys my number. If he wants me to pass a message along I can
[10:24] and dw ur not a bother
[10:24] I highly doubt he’d try to hit on you but sure I’ll ask for a message
[10:24] not like he wouldn’t because of you or anything he’s just not into girls
[10:24] can’t relate
[10:24] o wow really??
[10:24] same honestly
[10:24] wlw solidarity
[10:26] haha
The final message came after a slight delay, as Faye absently picked at the food Eight had made for her. Eight had developed an extreme sweet tooth since reaching the surface, and the pancakes were drenched with so much sugar and syrup that it was a little sickening, but Faye managed to at least force down one of them in the hopes that the young octoling would be content that she’d eaten something. One of these days, Faye really needed to put her energy into an overzealous compliment on the toast-making skills Eight may or may not have, and pray that would prompt a month of nothing but toast for breakfast instead. She could stomach toast.
It wasn’t long before her phone buzzed again.
[10:32] He said meet them at the crust bucket at 1400
[10:32] You sound just like the captain saying time like that. Does being a big dweeb run in the family
[10:32] oh shush
[10:32] I’ll ask but it’s probably fine. Eight doesn’t do anything other than play turf war all day as far as I know
“Hey,” Faye spoke up, and Eight glanced over with interest and cheeks stuffed with pancake. “Four wants you to meet some people. Friends of his, or somethin’. Sean’s at two. There’s your agenda for the day.”
Eight swallowed, and tilted her head. “Four’s friends?”
“They’re looking to make a team or something, I don’t know. You’re good at turf. Go make some new friends.”
“Do I need new friends?” There was a hint of worry in the octoling’s voice, as if she thought Faye was kicking her out. Honestly, Eight needed to move on sooner or later, but not until she was ready to.
“Never hurts to have more.” Faye shrugged, stating an ideology she didn’t believe in. “It’ll be fun.”
Eight prodded at one of the few remaining pancakes on her plate. The tentacles of her hair twitched and curled, as if she was in deep consideration. “Can you go also?”
Faye looked back to her, chin resting on one hand, hoping the disdain didn’t show on her face. She didn’t want to go anywhere today; she just wanted to sleep. “Why?”
“I don’t knowing Four well. Don’t want to go alone.”
“Can’t Marina go with you?”
“She has work today.” Eight shook her head. “Pearl also.”
The suggestion of the one other person Eight knew fairly well died before it could even enter Faye’s mouth, as she pictured the Captain attempting to converse with today’s youth. The octoling still wasn’t entirely fluent in the Inkadian language either, and Faye wasn’t sure she trusted Four to stand up for her properly…
Perhaps her role of babysitter was starting to get to her after all.
Faye let out an overdramatic sigh. “Okay, fine. I’ll go for, like, five minutes, just to make sure they’re not buffoons like Four.”
The warmth of the sun and the freshness of the city breeze were things Eight had grown accustomed to after a few months, but didn’t take for granted. She followed her friend through the city, detouring onto the paths with the least shadow and pausing to watch a few late autumn leaves flutter down to the pavement. Inkopolis wasn’t too different than the underground city she’d lost all memories of, but it was so bright out here that the new chill in the air didn’t bother her, and the world changed throughout the year like one giant lifeform. It was so fascinating.
Three didn’t seem quite so enamoured by trees and sky, watching with a blank expression whenever she waited at the next corner for Eight to catch up. From the few times they’d been into the city together, Three had caught on that Eight liked to observe everything on their journey, and had given them a whole half hour to make the ten-minute walk from the plaza to the square where the meeting was. That, Eight decided, was one of the reasons Three was her very best friend.
She caught up to Three at the last small stretch of the route, which was mostly alleyways and therefore nothing much that was interesting to look at; this one didn’t even have art sprayed on the walls like some of the others did. Disappointing.
“Four better actually be here so we can even find who we’re looking for,” Three muttered, her voice quiet in such a way that Eight couldn’t tell if it was something she was expected, by inkling conversational standards, to reply to or not.
Three always seemed to shift into a different demeanour when outside of Octo Valley. Instead of her agent gear – it would draw attention out in the city, especially the cape – she was wearing what Eight was pretty sure was turf gear; a white sailor shirt she kept fumbling for pockets on the front of, and red hi-tops. A straw boater covered her head, pulled at an angle to shadow the massive scar on the right side of her face in an attempt to make it less noticeable.
The square was always loud, with music playing through various speakers as the buildings competed with one another for attention, and the bustle of citizens as they went about their day. Eight always felt a little dazed by all the sights and sounds and smells in this area, and it felt like something she’d never adjust to no matter how many times she went here; from the way Three quickened her pace and kept her head down, maybe she felt the same, and Three had lived in Inkopolis for years.
Fortunately, there was a relatively clear path to where Crusty Sean’s food truck was. The tables were mostly full at this time of day, but scanning over them, Eight realised with a small wave of relief that she did recognise one of the inklings in the distance; the fancy-looking jacket and (in Three’s words) silly-looking fringe of Four. Two other inklings were at the table with him, a short orange one with sliced hair – wasn’t that painful? – and another that she soon realised was also familiar, mostly clad in green with a facemask obscuring their identity. That’s Marie! Eight hadn’t quite mentally prepared herself for meeting one of her idols today, even if they had met in the past – in slightly dire circumstances, but still.
“I don’t know why she’s here, but don’t tell anyone who she is,” Three warned, noticing Eight’s starstruck glance.
Perhaps one day Eight would get to gush to the Squid Sisters about how much their music meant to her, but today would not be that day. Aw…
When he noticed them approaching, Four lifted one hand in a wave, beckoning the two agents over. Three let out an overdramatic sigh. She didn’t seem to like him much; Eight didn’t know him well enough to form any strong opinion, but he was tall and older than them and seemed confident, and that was enough to intimidate her a little.
The small inkling with them paid no attention to the new arrivals yet, taking a bite from her shwaffle and fixing Marie with an intense gaze. “Are you sure we haven’t met? You look familiar somehow.”
Marie’s eyes creased a little from an unseen grimace at the younger squid talking with her mouth full, instinctively leaning away. “Yeah, I… get that a lot. People tell me I just have one of those faces.”
“I can barely even see your face. You got a mask on.”
“Allergies.”
“Ohhh. That sucks.” The orange inkling nodded wisely. “Is it peanuts? I bet it’s peanuts. My little sister is allergic to peanuts. You can’t even think about eating a peanut around her or she might just, like, explode.”
“Uh… something like that.” Marie held a slightly overwhelmed look as she glanced at Four, and followed his gaze to the new arrivals. She froze when she saw Three, blinking a few times and giving a small shake of her head. Eight didn’t know enough of the inkling mannerisms to know what that was all about. “Wow, you’re early.”
“It’s only five to,” Three shrugged. “I didn’t expect to see you here.” She nudged the single empty chair further from the table with one foot, glancing back at Eight and giving a small motion that it was okay for her to sit. The octoling glanced between her and the chair a few times before taking the offer, placing her weapon case beneath the seat. She felt incredibly alone, suddenly, even though she was far from it.
“Agen—err— Rollo wanted me to come along.” Marie threw a sharp glare at Four, saying his real name as if it were a foreign word she wasn’t used to.
He grinned back at her, the meaning behind his expression lost on Eight. “I thought you might enjoy lunch with friends! You’re usually so busy at work.”
Marie rolled her eyes, muttering quietly. “I knew sacrificing my day off for you was a terrible idea.”
“Aww, I love you too—ow.” The table jostled a little as Marie kicked his leg. Four gave her a hurt look, probably not an entirely genuine one, as he reached down to rub his shin.
The other inkling was ignoring their bickering, and as she shoved the remainder of her food into her mouth, she watched Eight curiously. It was… a little unnerving, but not with the same intimidation Eight felt from Four. Her gaze didn’t falter even when Eight managed to meet it for a few seconds, and she swallowed before opening her mouth to speak this time – and whatever she’d been about to say was immediately lost as she caught sight of Three. “Whoa! What happened to your face!?”
Marie and Four both winced. Eight looked at Three in surprise.
It was the first time she’d seen any semblance of fear in her eyes. Three’s gaze darted to each side as if checking nobody else was looking at her as she self-consciously reached up a hand to tilt her hat slightly more to the right. “None of your business.”
“Harper.” Four said with warning in his voice.
“What?” The accused blinked innocently at him. “I was just asking how she got that really cool scar. Was that rude?”
Four sighed and held a hand to his face. “Oh boy.”
Harper seemed to realise she’d done something wrong, tilting her head a little before she looked back at Three again. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you! I think it looks real hardcore.”
Three just gave a small huff, not acknowledging the small inkling any more than that.
Waiting a few more seconds for any kind of response, Harper eventually gave a small shrug and turned back to Eight, reaching her hand across the table. “Hi, I’m Harper!”
Recognising the gesture, Eight hesitated only briefly before shaking her hand. “… Eight.”
“This isn’t who I wanted you to meet, by the way,” Four explained. “Harper’s just nosy and likes meeting new people – and making terrible first impressions.”
“I like making friends!” Harper protested. She grinned; one of her top canines was missing, leaving a big gap in her mouth. “Delilah used to hate me. First impressions aren’t everything!” She crossed her arms, sitting back on the chair as she glanced at Marie. “I’ve known you for like ten whole minutes and still don’t know what your name is.”
“Uh—it’s Marin. People tend to call me M.” That was obviously a lie, but at least Eight now knew what to call her if necessary.
“That still kinda sounds famili—oh! Oh, oh!” Harper hopped in her seat, and for a moment Marie looked afraid. “I remember! You were at the last splatfest! With Rollo and Jake! And… uh… someone else, I forgot her name. She had a kensa dynamo. I like her, she squid partied with me!”
Marie let out a small sigh of relief; her identity hadn’t been breached yet. “Yeah, that was my cousin. I’ll tell her we saw you again.”
“Sweet!” Harper punched the air. She looked expectantly at Three. “What’s your name?”
Three stood apprehensively with her arms folded, a slight scowl on her face as if she really didn’t want to interact with this squid anymore. “…Faye.”
Harper beamed. “That’s a pretty name!”
Her compliment was met with a deadpan stare. Flattery didn’t outweigh what she’d blurted out earlier, it seemed.
“Oh, hey.” Four interrupted the awkward atmosphere, watching something in the distance. “They’re here, finally. We’re saved.”
Eight felt her curiosity grow and the beginning of an uneasy feeling in her stomach as she realised she was supposed to try and make her best impression on these new people. She tried to follow Four’s gaze, her attention lost in all the movement of the square before she finally noticed three inklings who seemed to be heading their way. The one at the front gave a small wave, looking in their direction, which further proved her theory.
Leading them was a pale purple-haired inkling with a denim cap and striped shirt, carrying an oddly-shaped case that, from a glance, Eight guessed must have been some variation of slosher. Following closely behind was a slightly shorter inkling, with hair that was mostly black other than the orange at the ends, long on the left side and much shorter on the right. A bulky case with thickly padded straps weighed on her shoulders; a heavy splatling, most likely. She had dark skin with some lighter patches on her hands and face, something Eight hadn’t seen before and couldn’t help but cast a glance towards Harper for any reaction of, but she was just waving to them in the distance, so it was either something that wasn’t uncommon or something Harper was used to seeing, and that was why she hadn’t called attention to it like she had with Three.
Looking at her close friend, remembering how uncomfortable she’d seemed at the time, Eight could understand why pointing things out like that would be considered rude. She hoped that wasn’t a common trend, suddenly feeling out-of-place with all her octoling features in the company of so many inklings.
The last inkling, a little distance back from the others, reminded Eight a little of Four. His teal hair was layered, three parts held up by a backwards Takoroka visor and the remaining longer three tied below it. With his hula punk shirt and punk whites, Eight couldn’t help but wonder if he was the picture of what the squids considered ‘fresh’, or if he was trying too hard. His weapon case was the type that carried some kind of shooter; a lot of them were too similarly-shaped to identify just from the case alone.
Eight wasn’t sure if she was supposed to try and greet these new inklings or not; she was supposed to meet them, but she hadn’t met them yet and didn’t know them, so which was it!? She ended up sinking a little more into her seat to make herself smaller, waiting for permission to do anything.
“You made it!” Four greeted them with a smile, and Eight couldn’t tell if he was joking or if he actually hadn’t expected them to show up. “Only, like, two minutes late.”
“Fashionably late,” the black-haired inkling gave an amused huff. “You got quite the crowd here, Ro. Who’d you want us to meet?”
“Okay, okay, so,” Four nodded, and motioned towards Eight, on his right, with one hand. She tried to not shrink away more without success. “This is Eight. She’s kinda new, but she’s good at turf.” He pointed to each newcomer in turn. “Mercedes,” the splatling one, “Chance,” the slosher, and then motioned to the unspecified-shooter-type wielder… “annoying dipshit.”
Huh. Strange name.
“Hey!” Visor guy scowled at him, ignoring the snickering from Harper and Mercedes. “That should be your name, dumbass!” He made a motion to swipe at Four’s head, but Four was more than prepared for it, catching his wrist and easily keeping him at bay. The younger-looking inkling snatched his arm free, and lightly swung his weapon case at the back of the chair as he walked past, holding a hand out to Eight. “Artemis. Friends call me Arty.”
Eight shrank away from the motion, looking up at him with round eyes. Her gaze darted from his hand to his face for a few moments; then she reached out to shake his hand at last. He looked a little relieved; perhaps she’d waited too long. Hopefully she wasn’t messing up the customs already.
“And some friends call you dipshit,” Harper snickered.
“Rollo isn’t my friend,” Artemis huffed, crossing his arms. “He’s just an acquaintance who thinks he’s cooler than me.”
“It’s a pretty low bar, Arts,” Four smirked, earning a kick to his chair.
“Hopefully Arty isn’t too offputting,” the slosher inkling – Chance – smiled kindly at Eight. She liked this inkling, she’d decided. She wasn’t too sure about the teal one yet. “It’s nice to meet you!” He was too far away to shake her hand, so he offered a small wave instead before looking to his other friend, Mercedes. “What are we doing, then?”
“Dunno,” she shrugged. “What you up for, kid? You got your ink weapon?”
Eight took a second to realise she was talking to her; she briefly opened her mouth from behind her skull bandanna to reply, then closed it again, not entirely confident she could form her words right. Instead she nodded, pulling her case out from beneath the chair.
“Sweet. I guess we could try and book some private matches to run through the ranked modes and see what you’re best at.” Mercedes rolled her shoulders, ready for action. Her gaze passed over the table. “We have enough for four-on-four here, if anyone wants in. A full room would be great.”
“Oh.” Four looked surprised at the suggestion, glancing around at his friends at the table. “I’m down if you are.”
Harper slammed her hands down on the table, causing the wrapper from her now-eaten food to briefly jump in the air. “Heck yeah I wanna fight!”
Marie, startling a little at the loud noise and the surface under her arms shaking, didn’t look quite as certain. “I don’t know—my charger isn’t turf standard anymore, I don’t have a weapon I can use.”
“Me either,” Three muttered. “I’m not even signed up anymore.”
Eight looked up at Three with hopeful eyes. It hadn’t taken long for her to sign up to play turf war, a few minutes at most, and she’d feel much better if Three was there with her! Plus, playing matches was fun, and Three rarely seemed like she was enjoying anything at all. That one self-assigned mission a few months ago seemed to re-energise her, just a little, even if she’d had to recover for a short while afterwards from injuries – but there were no injuries in turf war or ranked. There was equipment to make matches safe.
Three caught her gaze, taking a second to catch on to the silent plead – Eight really didn’t know anyone else here well – and when she did, she frowned more. Her expression looked a little uncertain, but she steeled it fast. “You know your puppy eyes aren’t going to give me the power to afford a weapon.”
Eight’s gaze fell back to the table, a little dejected.
“Ow!?” Marie exclaimed suddenly, casting a sharp glare at Four. She swivelled away from him a little as she reached down to place a hand on her leg; was kicking people just some kind of strange inkling custom Eight hadn’t learnt of yet? “The hell was that for, dude!?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Four said with obviously fake innocence. “But y’know, you are friends with Sheldon.”
“He let me borrow a charger for splatfest, I can’t keep pestering him to lend me stuff.” Sitting back normally, she pressed her thumbs together, taking in the hopeful look Eight was giving her and the insistent look from Four, as well as a few curious glances of their entourage. “I guess I can ask. Only if A— if— if Faye wants to join, though, ‘else I’d just make an uneven number.”
Three still looked a little reluctant; she sighed in defeat, though. “Sure, I guess. Not like I had anything better to do today.”
Eight’s heart lifted, beaming behind the bandanna. She’d wanted to play matches with Three for so long; now she finally could, and that gave Eight the burst of confidence she needed to feel ready to impress both her and the prospective teammates.