Chapter Text
Fatale
A take on post-Octo Expansion life
Friday, 7:00 p.m.
Outside, the weather was comfortably cool for a summer evening. The sun was beginning to set, and the clear sky revealed purplish hues that were slowly fading toward red. Throngs of people streamed up and down the sidewalk, chatting about their weekend plans. Eight tucked her chin to make it harder for security cameras to catch her face and headed in the direction opposite her intended destination. She stopped outside a florist, pretending to look at the flowers behind the window rather than the reflection in it, and quickly memorized all the bodies nearby. One left turn later, she looked into another window. After yet another stop, the Octoling felt confident nobody was following her. Standard counter-surveillance measures. Not really necessary, she told herself. Not anymore.
She entered a cafe and sat down at the bar, trying her best to feel comfortable. The barista came over and took her order. Eight managed to mumble the words "iced" and "coffee," but she didn't really want one. Her brain was already sending her warning signals. Bad spot to sit in. My back is toward the entrance. Can't see who's coming in or out. Had she been conducting surveillance or waiting for a contact, Eight would have put her back to the wall, sitting somewhere out of sight. Poor field of view here. I should move. Need to move. But she wasn't, of course. She was trying to find somewhere to relax after another long day at work, and most people in this city did that in some cafe or another. Apparently, iced coffee was the fashionable drink of choice among young adults. When in Rome...
The barista came back with her drink, placing it on a cork coaster in front of her. Eight instinctively scanned every individual she could see. Only a trained eye would have noticed what she was doing—the ex-assassin could make detailed observations while looking pretty natural. There's a couple behind me, talking loudly and oblivious to everything else around them. One old man to their left on his phone. Mr. Barista is relaxed. Guy on my right is sturdily built and looks like he can take care of himself in a fight. Door opening. Two more coming in, but I can't get a good look at them. The nagging warning signals from her brain finally got the best of her, and she turned around. These two are young, too young to be dangerous. Eight paid for her drink and left. She wouldn't have been able to relax in there. Her training just wouldn't allow for it.
Eight had wanted to leave her old life behind. Now a resident of Inkopolis, she wanted to begin anew. Her memories were gone, anyway. But she had a very particular skill set, and Captain Cuttlefish had no intention of letting it go to waste. It was a pipe dream, thinking you could ever lead a normal life.
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