Work Text:
“Don’t get cooked… stay Off the Hook!”
Agent Eight watched from the glass of the recording studio with awe as the two idols struck a pose while saying their catchphrase.
Multiple squids around her called the catchphrase back to them as well, clearly big fans like her.
Once the two idols sat down to talk, Pearl caught Eight’s glossy stare through the window and nudged Marina.
With beaming smiles, the two posed for her - a secret pose that they’d shown her in the following weeks after she had escaped the Metro - and winking in a way that made Eight feel special.
Fangirl would be a generous label.
Eight practically rolled around on the concrete sidewalk in front of the studio in pure glee.
Heads turned, even from the previous fans.
Pearl and Marina, though dedicated members of the Squidbeak Splatoon, spent most of their time performing and recording.
Eight had gotten some time to spend with them directly after she had left the Metro, but the two settled back into their normal routine quickly.
Which made any time Eight got to spend with the celebrities, waving through a glass or not, feel particularly special.
Most days, Eight wandered around Inkopolis, taking in the sheer liveliness of it all.
Bustling chatter from passersby, the alluring smell of fried food, the catchy melodies that wafted from the games planted in front of The Shoal, the bright neon lights of Deca Tower.
It was all so overwhelming and exciting and scary and incredible.
In the two weeks it had been since she had escaped, all Eight had done was enjoy the way Inkopolis lived in its day-to-day.
She took it all in with pure amazement, and somehow, even after two weeks, her amazement still hadn’t faded in the slightest.
(She wouldn’t admit that she did feel a little lonely, though…)
She sat at a table just outside of the Galleria sipping a Special-Charge Shake, just watching.
She watched as a pair of squids ducked into Headspace and came out with goofy hats, laughing at each other.
She watched one squid come out of Ammo Knights with a new weapon, a slosher, with eyes that could only mean revenge for a lost match.
A whole group of squids came out of The Shoal bickering over who really won their match, playfully arguing over weapons they deemed too “op”.
A familiar voice reached Eight’s ears, coming from the direction of the back alley where Grizzco nestled.
“I can’t believe you do that every day for a living. Damn grillers…”
She recognized it instantly, despite not having heard it since the day she escaped.
“The job might pay well, but Mr. Grizz is definitely kind of sketchy, right? Four, are you listening?”
Eight threw a bright grin as Agent Four waved at her and Agent Three froze behind them, only moving when Four pulled her along.
Eight frequently hung out with Four, doing Salmon Runs with them whenever they asked, but she hadn’t seen Three since the day she’d saved the latter from being blended.
Four had implied that it was because Three still felt awkward about the whole… brainwashed fight situation.
Eight had all but forgiven Three for the fight (Eight never even had a grudge to begin with) but she felt it was better if she let Three approach her first regardless.
The two sat down at the table with her - rather, Four sat down at the table and Three awkwardly lingered around the table, seemingly unwilling to actually sit down yet.
(Four shot her an incredulous look, but Three seemed to ignore it.)
Out of friendly instinct, Eight held up her shake to Three and offered it to her.
Three looked like a deer in headlights, the way she froze up, unsure whether to take the drink or not.
“Want a drink?” Eight asked, pushing the drink more towards Three. “There’s like, half left. You can have the rest.”
The way Four nudged Three’s side with their elbow suggested that there was some unspoken conversation that they’d left off on, but neither seemed willing to continue it out loud.
Three’s face flushed slightly, and she quickly snatched the drink out of Eight’s hand and planted herself down in a chair across from Eight without a word.
In an attempt to cover her fluster, Three cleared her throat and spoke, eyes aiming down at the table rather than Eight’s, “So… I guess you’re adjusting well to society…”
Four jabbed Three’s arm, though Three seemed to already be wincing at herself before Four had even moved.
She tried again swiftly, “Splatfest is coming up in a couple days.”
Despite the sudden change in topic, Eight perked up.
“Splatfest?” she repeated, excitement rising in her voice. “What is that? I’ve heard the word around recently.”
Three blinked, finally meeting Eight’s eyes.
The awkwardness, though not all dispersed, seemed to lift a bit.
“Oh, um, it’s this event where you pick between two teams and play Turf to win points for your team to win,” Three explained.
Eight went quiet suddenly, fidgeting her fingers.
Four gestured to her, asking what was wrong with a tilt of their head.
Eight scratched her cheek sheepishly as she admitted, “I… don’t know how to play Turf War. But, I’m sure I can manage. It can’t be too hard, right?”
Four vigorously pulled at Three’s hoodie as Three inconspicuously sipped at the shake, avoiding Four’s eyes.
Eight had thought to ask Three how to play earlier, seeing as how Three was a master at the game, but Three seemed hesitant, so Eight considered ways she could learn.
“Off the Hook plays all night on top of Deca Tower, the day of Splatfest,” Three added, pointedly ignoring the way Four shook her shoulder.
Eight’s eyes lit up, and Three’s only darted around the square, desperate to look at anything other than the two she sat with.
Eight turned to Four with hope in her eyes as she asked, “Four, do you think you could teach me how to play?”
Four quickly shook their head, pointing a thumb back towards Grizzco before nodding their head toward Three, who was ducking her lightly red face down to stare at the metal table.
Eight would have been content to even just hang out with Three, let alone learn a game with her, but Three’s hesitance was clear, and Eight didn’t want to bother her friend, so she assured with a dismissive wave and a shake of her head, “That’s okay. I think I can gather the basics.”
Four sunk down, clearly unsatisfied with her answer before they took to glaring at Three.
Eight hurried to try to take the heat off Three.
“The splatfest comes around pretty often, right? There’s always next time. I should have figured out how to play sooner. In the meantime, I guess I should start learning all of the games, huh? I’ve been missing out.”
She smiled, though her deflation was obvious.
Three’s face only seemed to get redder as she sunk down in her chair, ignoring Four’s gaze and instead watching the condensation of the drink trickle down into a small puddle on the table.
Eight wasn’t sure how to cheer her up, but she figured leaving was probably the best course of action.
She stood up and tried not to look too worried as she said, “In fact, I should probably go practice right now! I’ll see you guys later.”
As Eight scurried off toward Deca Tower, she could have sworn she heard Three groan, “Stop looking at me like that, I know!”, but she didn’t risk a glance over her shoulder.
Eight learned three things in the two days she was learning the games.
One: Turf War itself was a relatively simple game.
Aside from spending time inking the walls, she barely made any mistakes once she caught on.
She found herself pretty good at the game, too. She’d used a variety of weapons in the Deepsea Metro, but she became particularly comfortable with the Octobrush.
She’d even found some kind players who had Inkbrushes and drew with her on the ground rather than play the match.
Turf War was very easygoing and relaxing, especially when:
Two: Ranked was full of players who played to win.
Eight had little time to learn the games of Ranked. She could grasp the general gist of the rules for some, but she would find no drawing parties within the Ranked games.
In fact, she would only find hardcore players who would happily target her just when she thought she was doing well.
Despite how much she struggled to keep up with the pros at first, she still found herself relatively able to hold her own. Most of the time. She was always a pretty keen learner and quick to adapt, after all.
Which is why she was shocked when:
Three: Tower Control threw her for all kinds of loops.
The moving platform reminded her too much of the Metro, being on top of the tower made her a huge moving target for the other team, and though she found teamwork in Salmon Run easy, she found it a bit harder to coordinate with her serious, rigid teammates.
And those serious, rigid teammates, only reminded her of her fellow octolings she had to leave behind to gain her freedom, those brainwashed and trapped in the Metro.
In fact, speaking of three, Eight had found herself face-to-face on the opposite team to the agent in the one round she played of Tower Control.
Neither of their teammates made any remark of either of their shocked expressions. Three’s expression didn’t last long, anyway; she jumped right into the game at the start of the timer.
Eight, meanwhile, hung back slightly from her team, trying to focus on what Three was doing to understand the game, but once the tower started moving, Eight suddenly felt dizzy and slightly nauseous.
Three’s team was already at the tower by the time Eight’s swam to the middle, and Three took position at the top instantly.
While ink began flying between the two teams, Eight held the Aerospray close to her chest, head spinning with panic.
She looked to Three for… what, she wasn’t sure. Help, maybe? Something to ground herself?
But there was a fire in Three’s eyes.
Eight had considered Three to be a tad shy, pretty reserved, and noticeably nervous around Eight, but the Three that played Ranked was just as steadfast as all the players she’d encountered before, if not more.
Eight absently wondered what Three’s rank was.
“I’m not going easy on you, Eight!” Three called from the top of the tower, drawing Eight’s attention back to the match.
Before Eight could give any kind of response, Three aimed her E-Liter at her and shot without a second’s hesitation.
“Well, that was…” Three trailed off, seeming to bite back a snarky remark as she noticed Eight’s downtrodden expression.
She cleared her throat softly instead, mumbling out a weak, “Sorry.”
Eight perked up slightly in an attempt to shake the thoughts from her mind.
“Sorry for what? You’re an incredible player,” she said with half-hearted playfulness.
Three rubbed her arm awkwardly, eyes cast down at the street in front of Deca Tower.
“I was a bit intense. You were probably just practicing, right?”
Eight shook her head quickly.
“Ranked is intense, you were just playing normally. I… probably won’t play Tower Control much anyway,” she said with a light chuckle.
(What Eight wouldn’t have given to simply spectate Three in a match, though.)
Three didn’t answer, only focused her eyes down at the ground.
The setting sun painted the sky in hues of oranges and pinks, low chatter of Inkopolis Square filling the brief tense silence the two fell into as Eight struggled to find something else to talk about.
“Oh!” Eight exclaimed, making Three jump slightly.
Digging into her shorts pockets, she pulled out a handful of meal and drink tickets and offered them to Three.
“Do you want one?” she asked, holding the tickets out to Three. “As… apology for bringing the mood down.”
Three’s eyes widened slightly, eyes shifting from the pile of tickets in Eight’s hands and Eight’s strained smile.
Three’s eyes flicked towards the Crust Bucket, but she turned back to Eight with a more determined expression.
Pulling Eight by the wrist back towards Deca Tower, Three said, “I have a better idea.”
They sat in Snapper Canal; Eight, against the tarped ramp and Three atop a ledge over the water.
It was quiet, save for the distant sounds of construction and occasional cargo trains passing by over the bridge.
They’d played a couple friendly rounds of Turf, but both were too exhausted to play for too long and resorted to just loitering around the area.
It helped clear Eight’s mind, at least.
Three gave her tips and tricks to Turf, showing the best areas for sniping, places where Eight could make a quick escape if needed, and areas to be careful of slipping into the water.
It was all very interesting information and only proved to Eight how much of a master Three was.
She had defeated Three while under control of the Telephone, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t stand a chance against a fully in-control and all-out Three.
“Hey, uh…” Three trailed off, bringing Eight back to the present.
The sky was a deep red now, sun on the verge of dipping behind the oceanline.
With her back to the sun’s warm rays, Three’s expression was hidden in shadows.
Eight lifted her head from where she leaned against the tarped ramp to acknowledge the start of the conversation.
Three scratched her cheek nervously as she eased into her question, “I know I wiped your team in Tower Control, but I realize now that you, uh… weren’t really fighting back in the first place.”
Eight breathed a weak chuckle.
“Yeah.”
Three opened her mouth like she wanted to say more, but seemed unwilling to make the push, so she simply pulled one of her knees to her chest and left her part of the conversation there.
Eight decided she should probably say something, else it would only get more awkward.
“It just felt a little…” she trailed off, unsure how to put it into words. “Too close.”
Even if it wasn’t at all an explanation, the way Three lifted her head seemed to say she understood.
“Sorry,” Three apologized. “For… well.”
The apology was laced with sincerity, a genuine regret that apologized for far more unspoken than just a game, and even though Eight didn’t think it necessary, she still appreciated it.
“I liked playing Splat Zones,” Eight offered with a small smile. “Ranked players are no joke, though.”
“I’ll be on your team next time,” Three assured, then seemed to pause, as if she had just realized what she’d said.
But before she could go back on it, Eight interjected, grinning for real, “I’d like that.”
Three’s eyes widened for a moment, but she quickly averted them.
Eight could have sworn Three’s face was slightly red, but decided it was the lighting from the sunset.
“Oh!” Eight jumped up excitedly, suddenly remembering one of her previous Turf War games. “Three, I wanna show you something!”
Three gave her a wary look, but watched as Eight ran forward, towards the blank spread of concrete just a step down from the tarped ramp.
Eight held her Octobrush steady and drew, recalling the nice drawing party she’d had with her Turf War teammates.
Three, unable to see what Eight was doing from her perch, moved to a closer ledge to get a better view.
Once Eight was done, she looked up at Three with a proud grin, stepping aside to show off the series of neatly drawn hearts.
This time, the sun had dipped below the water’s edge, dark blues replacing the reds and pinks, and Eight was sure of it - Three’s face was a deep red that spread all the way to her ears.
She attempted to cover it up by pulling up the collar of her Hero Suit to her nose, but Eight could still clearly see the deep coloration, even from where she stood below Three.
It wasn’t quite the reaction Eight had expected, but she wouldn’t deny that it was amusing to see such a rare expression on Three.
“Next time, you should bring a brush, too!” Eight suggested.
“...Sure,” Three mumbled through her collar.
Eight beamed, and just as she was about to suggest they start another round of Turf, voices over a loudspeaker from over in Inkopolis Square echoed throughout the canal.
“Y’all feelin’ fresh out there?!”
Eight perked up, looking around, confused as to what was happening.
She looked up to Three for guidance and found a loose smirk on her face aimed somewhere in the direction of the square.
“Sounds like it’s starting,” Three hummed.
Hopping down from the ledge and holding her hand out to Eight, she scratched the back of her head.
“C’mon, let’s go.”
At Eight’s bewildered expression, Three gave a light chuckle and a small smile.
“You wanna see Off the Hook perform for Splatfest, don’t you?”
( Three watched as Eight cheered and danced her heart out, singing along with Pearl and Marina’s song. She was ecstatic, eyes glistening in the neon lights.
She couldn’t help the smile that found its way to her lips as Eight fangirled, beaming brighter than Three had ever seen.
They were still holding hands, even with Eight bouncing wildly in the crowd and Three awkwardly standing next to her, enjoying the music but with eyes on her rather than the idols.
If their hands began to slip, Eight would wordlessly tighten her grip until their fingers were interlocked.
Though Three internally admitted it made her feel all warm and soft, she could only imagine Four never letting her hear the end of it if they saw, especially for all their nagging they’d done in getting Three to talk to Eight in the first place.
Three wondered if Four was in the crowd somewhere.
They didn’t often take many days off, but they did seem to enjoy Off the Hook to some extent, though it seemed like they enjoyed the competitiveness of Splatfest more than the show.
Four had pressured Three to play Tower Control earlier and disappeared afterwards, signing something about it being the lucky game of the day.
Turns out the game might have been lucky after all.
Three supposed she owed Four a meal, even if the whole situation was unintentional.
Actually, that reminded her…
“Hey, Eight,” Three asked as Marina and Pearl took a short intermission in between songs.
Eight turned to her, still full of energy like she hadn’t been screaming and cheering nonstop for the past hour.
“How the hell do you even have so many food tickets?”
Eight grinned, pointing vaguely in the direction of Grizzco.
“I do Salmon Runs with Four!”
Well, that made sense, Three supposed.
She had noticed a couple scars along Eight’s arms, likely from Salmonids.
“Speaking of, I wonder where they are?” Eight mused, “I saw them earlier, before I went in to play Tower Control. I don’t know sign very well, but I think they said something about it being lucky?”
Three took it back.
What she owed Four was a good old fashioned Splatfest ass kicking.
And if she kissed Eight on the cheek at the end of the night, she wasn’t going to say a word to Four about it. )