Chapter Text
Amy sat on the hard train seat, listening to the wheels clatter against the rails. She had her backpack sitting in her lap, her suitcase between her feet, her wallet in her pocket, and literally nothing else. She let out a deep breath and tried not to think about the future.
She picked a discarded newspaper up off the train floor to try to distract herself, but found the front-page headlines to be unamusing. They were all about politics, or foreign relations, or other bullshit that she couldn’t care less about. She flipped to the sports section, and was greeted with some girl holding up a trophy and smiling way too smugly at the camera. With nothing better to do, Amy sighed and began reading.
18-year-old Lynn Lothamer set records today as the youngest Inkling to ever win the National Turf War Championship, along with the other three representatives from Inkopolis: Jane Eywall, Harriet Tremors, and Jackson Derrymore, all long-time staples of the Inkopolis turfing scene with much more experience under their belts compared to their young teammate. While Inkopolis taking home the gold isn’t much of a surprise, Lothamer took the championship by storm, proving that experience isn’t everything. In a post-finals interview, she mentioned that she will likely be forming a turfing team of her own after this event, stating she has some friends from her private high school, Inkblot Academy, that know their way around an arena.
Amy stuck out her tongue and dropped the newspaper. Ugh. Private schoolers; what assholes. Amy bet she could wipe the floor with this ‘Lynn’ prick with one hand behind her back. What a load of shit.
“Not to pry,” said a voice from behind her, “but shouldn’t a kid like you be in school right about now?”
Amy turned to the elderly inkling sitting next to her and made a face. “Shouldn’t a fossil like you be dead right about now?”
The old man looked at her and laughed through his beard, which was not the response Amy was used to receiving when she insulted someone to their face. “I’ve still got a few years left in me. Headed to Inkopolis, are you?”
“What are you, a cop?”
The man laughed again. “Not exactly. I’m going there, too. To visit my grandchildren.” He leaned on that bamboo cane of his, and smiled to himself. “I don’t get to see them in person very often these days. Our jobs keep us busy.”
“Uh huh.” Amy really hoped this wouldn’t continue for the rest of the train ride.
“Mmm. Maybe surrounding myself with such youthful energy is what had been keeping me so spry over the years. I should get back in touch, if only for my skin health.”
Amy squinted at him. “…Right.”
She let his talking fade off into the background, and turned to look out the train window as the scenery flashed past. Well… this was it. Inkopolis or bust. She certainly couldn’t go back home, so she’d have to make it work.
And she could totally make it work! It’d be fine. She’d get a job, and an apartment, and it’d be fine.
Amy could not make it work. It was not fine.
As it happened, landlords didn’t rent out apartments to sixteen-year-olds with next to no money. So she’d had a great first night in the city, sleeping on the roof of the apartment complex.
And then because her life was simply going far too fucking well, and obviously the universe had to balance out all the good fortune she’d been showered with this past week, the Great Zapfish himself had gone missing, so now they were running a third of the normal turf war blocks due to spawn power management. So now she couldn’t even fucking turf. And don’t forget that she still had nowhere to live. Because she didn’t. And she only had enough money to eat for another week or so.
At least she didn’t have to see Mom.
Grabbing her bags, she super-jumped off the roof of the apartment building and dropped down onto the street, scaring a nearby couple half to death. She shoved her hands into her pockets and began stomping towards Inkopolis Plaza for breakfast.
And then she saw that old man from the train poke his head out of a sewer grate.
What the fuck.
He looked around a few times, made eye contact with Amy, and shlurped back down though the hole.
What the fuck.
Amy really wanted to just keep walking and try to forget about it, because, as stated: What the fuck. But her body had other plans, apparently, and she found herself peering into the grate.
It did not lead to the sewers. This was not a normal grate. There was some… weird light inside it, that seemed to warp and distort the more she looked at it. Like a picturesque skyscape had been ripped out of reality, balled up, and thrown inside.
Three sighed, prepared for the worst, and jumped.
“A kid?” Agent 1 exclaimed. “Gramps, you hired a kid to fight an army?”
“Yeah, and I’ve been doing a damn good job of it, you incognito motherfucker.”
Agent 2 looked at Three. It was hard to discern her expression past her face mask. “She’s got one hell of a mouth on her, that’s for sure.”
“You wanna go? Gonna run away and shoot me like a charger-using coward?”
“Okay, you seriously need to chill,” Two said flatly.
Agent 1 sighed and put her hands on her hips. “Can she even legally work for us? She’s like fifteen!”
Three crossed her arms. “I’m sixteen so you can shut the fuck up.”
“Three here cleared two areas in the Valley today,” Cap’n Cuttlefish said.
Agent 1’s jaw dropped open. “No way. In a single day?”
He nodded. “In about six hours, yes.”
“Both bark and bite, I guess,” Agent 2 noted, starting to give Three a closer look. “Who are you?”
“Not the one wearing a mask is who,” Three said. Seriously. They were asking her all sorts of questions, but didn’t even have the balls to show their faces? Pussies.
Agent 2 gave a sharp laugh. “Fair enough, I suppose.”
“You never answered my question,” One said, frowning. “Regardless of her abilities, is this even legal?”
“Fourteen is the legal working age in Inkopolis,” Cuttlefish said simply.
“Yeah, but this is—”
“Hey, is it okay if I crash in your cabin tonight?” Three interrupted. “That way I can get started smashing octo ass right when I wake up.”
“Sure thing,” Cap’n said.
“Do you need to call anyone?” asked Two. “You can use my phone if you want.”
“No,” Three said.
Agent 3 walked into the cabin and practically slammed the door behind her.
“Well damn,” Marie said. “I was just asking.”
Callie frowned. Something was off here. “Gramps, who is that kid? Like, where did you find her?”
Gramps shrugged, adjusting his cap. “Sat next to her on the train when I was coming back from your parents’ place in Calamari Country,” he explained. “I felt like she was exactly what we needed, and we were exactly what she needed.”
“Oh, I think I get it,” Marie said. “Maybe you should be a bit more vague, though. Just in case.”
“Marie’s right,” Callie said, cocking a hip and looking dead into her grandpa’s eyes. “Don’t you know anything about her? Name? Origin? Why she’s apparently a good enough battler at sixteen to take down multiple Ancient Octoweapons in series?”
“Nope.”
Marie gave him a look. “Not even a name?”
“Nope.”
Callie rested her face in her hands. “And we’re depending on her to beat Octavio?”
“Well, we can probably help her with that part, but yeah.”
“Gods,” Callie said.
“To be fair,” Marie said, “she recovered eleven zapfish in the time it took us to recover six. That’s almost twice as fast, and there’s two of us.”
“I’m not questioning her abilities,” Callie said—though, that was frighteningly impressive. “Just… how do we know we can trust her?”
“We can.” Gramps began. “Agent 3 is a great many things, from what I can tell. Hurt. Angry. Desperate. But she’s, I think, the furthest thing from a bad person you’re gonna find around here.”
“How would you know?” Marie asked. “You’ve only known her for a day. Less, even.”
Gramps smiled. “She reminds me of someone.”
Three was standing outside the Octarian headquarters with Agents 1 and 2. This was it. After this, DJ Octavio would be defeated, Cap’n Cuttlefish and the Great Zapfish would be rescued, and Three…
Would have nowhere to live again.
Cool. So, anyway.
“I hope the captain was right about you,” Agent 2 mumbled under her breath.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Three asked. “I’ve carried your sorry asses this far, haven’t I? I’m not gonna drop the ball here and fuck all this up for us.”
“That’s… oddly sweet of you, Three,” said Agent 1. “And we’ll be right behind you. We’ve got a trick up our sleeves.”
“Lookin’ forward to it,” Three mused, raising her hero shot. “Let’s go kick some DJ ass.”
Zadie speed-walked across the metal catwalk towards the Octobot King’s hangar. She wanted to run, but safety regulations demanded that they not run on the catwalks. It was a dumb rule. Zadie had fantastic coordination and was confident she could run back and forth on these catwalks all day without falling to her untimely death and wasting spawn power—but Zadie was not one to break the rules, so she speed-walked.
When she reached the hangar, the DJ was there, his back to the door. He was talking with someone who, if Zadie remembered correctly, was the head engineer. S-01-A, she believed. They didn’t talk much. Or at all, really—Zadie’s squad worked with S-02, when they worked with sci-ops at all.
S-01-A noticed her and mentioned something to Octavio before grabbing a wrench and jumping inside the King’s plating. The DJ gave Zadie a nod, and she approached.
“Report, sir.”
He motioned for her to continue.
“Agent 3 cleared out Area 4 about half an hour ago. Our scouts say she and the rest of the Splatoon just arrived at the entrance to the HQ. Judging by Agent 3’s previous pace, she should arrive here in roughly two hours.”
DJ Octavio grumbled to himself, and slammed a boot against the ground. “Shit . We need more time before the Octobot King is ready. The damn fists aren't spinning like they're supposed to.” He turned to Zadie. “Take your squad, and any other squads you can find, and go slow down that hipster as much as you can.”
Zadie nodded, and walked off.
Squad F-02 was stationed just in front of the zapfish in kettle 27; it was the last zapfish they still had besides the Great Zapfish himself. Zadie stood in the back, the long strands of seaweed woven into her tentacles rippling behind her. Her three subordinates stood in front of her, and to their left, all of the F-01 squad stood at the ready.
“Agent 3 has hacked the third spawn point,” F-01-A said, next to her. “She’ll be here any minute. Keep your senses sharp. Our only spawns left are back at HQ, so if you get splatted, head to the arena to support the DJ once she reaches him.” She nodded at Zadie. “02-A and I are taking up the rear, so you all start the charge on my signal.”
No one expended the energy to acknowledge her; all was understood. They took their places behind the makeshift cover they’d placed around the area, and 01-A peeked out over the top of hers to track Three’s movements. Zadie heard the telltale squelches of Octarians getting splatted, and then not too long after, 01-A gave a shout.
All eight Octolings burst from their hiding spots and converged on the unsuspecting agent. “Shit! That’s a lot!” she cried in Inklish, retreating a few yards back through her ink.
“Cut off her paths!” Zadie shouted, chucking a splat bomb over the heads of her squadmates.
Agent 3 dropped a pair of seekers on the ground, then jumped back away from the bomb, dropping into her ink. Most of their team got out of the way, but F-01-D was caught by one of the seekers, and went up in ink. Not a second later, 02-B went down to Agent 3’s hero shot.
Agent 3 shifted her aim immediately onto 01-B with frightening precision, not wasting a single glob of ink. But just as 01-B’s body lost its form, 02-D nailed the inkling with a splattering of ink, and Zadie swam under 01-C’s feet, jumping out of her ink and firing down on Agent 3. She swore, and backed off, only to bump into 01-A, who had wrapped around behind her in the chaos.
“Eat shit,” 01-A said in crude Inklish, putting her octoshot to the agent’s head.
“Fuck you,” Agent 3 said, and dropped a slat bomb at her feet.
01-A pulled the trigger right as the bomb detonated. When the multicolor cloud of ink rained to the ground, neither cephalopod was anywhere to be seen.
“She’ll respawn soon,” 02-D said.
“Orders?” asked 01-C, looking up at her.
Zadie took stock of the situation. They’d lost the element of surprise, as well as all of squad 01 except for 01-C. Zadie’s squad was more intact, but she’d lost her second, and, to be perfectly honest with herself, she wasn’t very confident in her C and D to hold their own against Agent 3. She had a sneaking suspicion that the DJ wouldn't have enough time to get those arms working how he wanted.
But it’s not like they could give up. That would be unthinkable treason.
“Let’s advance on the spawn. Ink as much as you can along the way. Remember, we’re here to buy time.”
The rest of the octolings nodded, and they moved forward, erasing as much green ink as they could. It wasn’t long before they ran into Agent 3 once again, except this time, she looked pissed.
“You fuckers! I don’t have time to get splatted!” She bared her beak and snarled, weaving in between shots and gunning down the rest of Zadie’s squad with robotic efficiency. Zadie kept firing despite it all, but Agent 3 threw a bomb down, forcing her to retreat. When she resurfaced, Agent 3 was running towards the zapfish, completely ignoring her.
“Hey!” Zadie called. “Get back here, you ass-fucker!”
“No! I don’t have time to deal with another elite!” the Agent yelled over her soldier. “And what’s a ‘mikero’?”
Before Zadie could catch up with her, she’d popped the zapfish’s cage, nabbed him, and superjumped back to the kettle’s entrance.
Zadie swore. She’d finally faced Agent 3 one-on-one, and she just ran? No. This wasn’t over. Zadie morphed into her octopus form, pressed herself against the ground, and superjumped after the agent, landing in front of the kettle.
She hesitated for a bit. If she were splatted outside of a kettle, she wouldn’t respawn. They had orders specifically not to leave their stationed kettles for that very reason.
But this was different! She also had orders to slow down Three. She’d just lay low and catch her when she went into the boss kettle. With that plan in mind, Zadie jumped through the grate.
This battle was chaos. Fists and bombs and lasers and inkzookas were being volleyed back and forth at hectic speeds as Agent 3 chased the Octobot King in circles around the arena. Tons of octarians and octolings filled the stands around the perimeter, dancing along to Octavio’s music and cheering him on.
Zadie was having trouble getting close to Agent 3. The upside of this was that she didn’t think the agent had seen her yet, but, still, it was kind of difficult to kill her when she couldn’t reach her.
After Zadie was nearly splatted by a chain reaction of several balloon fish, she decided to run around in the opposite direction instead. She wouldn’t be able to come up from behind this way, but at least she’d have the Octobot King’s shield as cover until she got close enough to shoot.
It was only about a half a minute of running before the looming form of the Octobot King was before her. She could see Agent 3 on the ground beyond it, though she was distracted by several octobombers Octavio had thrown out. Carefully, Zadie snuck up on her, Octoshot at the ready.
Zadie’s first few shots caught the inkling’s cheek before she reflexively swam out of range. She fired a few shots in retaliation before leaping away from one of the King’s mini-killer wails and rolling behind a block of turf. Zadie, crouched against the ground, snuck up on the other side of the cover.
“Hey, guys, I could really use some support right now!” Agent 3 said from around the corner.
Zadie paused. This could be important to hear.
“Sure thing, Three!” said a chipper voice through Agent 3’s earpiece. “Get ready!”
“Radio override activated.” That was a different voice.
DJ Octavio’s mix suddenly cut out, and was replaced by static. And then, after a second, music.
“Agent 3! Can you hear our song?!”
Zadie could.
Oh man, Zadie could. She was standing directly in front of the Octobot King’s speakers. It was all she could hear. And it was… confusing.
The melodies of the song washed over her and those too-perfect voices latched onto her and pulled her up, up and away, and she soon was looking down at her body, standing there between Octavio and Agent 3.
“What… what am I doing?”
She saw, up from above, Agent 3 turn at the sound of Zadie’s voice. A few quick shots, and everything went black.
Zadie reformed atop the respawn point only seconds before she heard a cacophonous explosion in the distance, and the telltale sound of the spawn point’s power fizzling out. But it was all as if she were wearing muffling earphones; that song was the only thing she could hear.
Ya. Weni. Marei. Mirekyarahira. Juri. Yu mirekerason.
Zadie’s head was a swirl of inscrutable thoughts and emotions as she gazed around the Domes, but she knew one thing for certain: She wanted to be able to hear that song again someday.
She wanted out.