Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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Darkness now shrouds the chamber around him, the larger lamps having lost all power. While there are still the glows of thousands of lights, they are tiny, only showing their own presence without illuminating their surroundings, and so the darkness is only truly broken occasionally by his dying flashlight. His careful footsteps and slow breathing can barely be heard over the ever constant whirring of fans.

"I don't suppose there's much time left, now," he says, clearly afraid of what's to come, but accepting his fate. "There are many things I regret. I only hope it will be different for you."

As he exits, he seals the entrance behind him, leaving only the tiny glows and the constant whirs.

140520515062511-H08

At a glance, the Deepsea Metro may look exactly as it did before. The trains continue to bring Workers and Subjects alike to their destinations, and the changes have not yet reached many of these places. The ruthless battle happening above has gone unnoticed, the destruction of the NILS statue mistaken for a minor earthquake.

Down here, time goes on, as it always has.

Two figures lay on the ground at Station H08—an inkling and an octoling. They were carelessly dropped on the ground by a group of Soldiers at almost the exact moment the telephone ceased to function. In its current state, Kamabo Corporation will not bring in any more test subjects, making these two possibly the last of their kind.

The inkling is the first to awaken.

Nothing they open their eyes to is familiar to them. The individual pieces of what they see might be—the smooth stone pressing cold against their chin, the rusted metal of the pillar in front of them, the torn wires hanging from the ceiling, sizzling with electricity—but the place as a whole, the way everything combines, is nothing like what one would find on the surface. The room is tinted in a greenish tone by the flickering ceiling lamps, far, far away from any sunlight. They struggle to breathe the stifling underground air, possibly because of panic rising in their stomach as well. Their hoodie is dirty and torn in places, revealing bruised skin below.

As they painfully push themself up, just enough to turn their head the other way, they see what their back has been brushing up against—the back of the octoling, currently unmoving, but breathing. The short pink tentacles on his head feature prominent suction cups, and he is wearing one of his species' uniforms—a padded black crop top, shorts, and boots.

Like other octoling Subjects, despite not coming from the surface, he still finds himself so far below his home. When he awakens a while later, he attempts to stand up right away—only to be hit with intense pain in his head. Still, he tries to scan his surroundings as quickly as possible. His gaze falls upon the inkling now sitting against the wall a good distance away—they did not try to wake him, instead simply sitting there waiting for something to happen. Their expression is difficult to read, one eye mostly hidden behind their purple, chin-length tentacles. When they notice him staring at them, they anxiously transform into their more compact squid form.

The octoling reaches for his weapon. But there is nothing there, as it has of course been taken when the cephalopods were captured.

"Y—you. Don't move!" he shouts, in Octarian language—though because of how similar it is to the Inkling language, the squid may understand it just fine, assuming they hear through the unusual pronunciation and slightly different grammar.

Either way, they do not seem to have any intention of moving.

"Where are we? Did you bring me here?!" he asks.

The squid stays silent.

"Speak!"

After another bit of hesitation, the squid finally speaks, with a voice that is raspy, but soft, indicating it has only rarely seen use. "What... What did you say?" they ask in Inkling.

"Huh?" The octoling looks confused, taking a moment to realise. "Oh." He repeats himself, speaking more slowly and attempting to sound more Inkling-like, though not quite succeeding in doing so.

"Where are we?"

"I don't know," the squid replies, speaking equally slowly.

The octoling hesitates, pressing his hand against his forehead with a pained expression. "Yes—" No longer talking to the other cephalopod, he speeds up and takes on a heavier accent again as he mutters to himself. "I was knocked out, but why—"

He continues to mumble as the inkling slowly returns to their humanoid form, standing against the wall now.

The octoling stares at them suspiciously for a moment, making them visibly uncomfortable. Unsure where to look, they briefly peer into the octoling's eyes, then at the ground, then the empty kiosk to the side behind him, then his eyes again, then back to the ground. Eventually, they speak, breaking the awkward silence. "Are you an octoling?"

The octoling takes a moment to process what they said, through the accent and weird grammar. "Yes," he replies, confused at the question as if he thought this was obvious. "Never seen one?"

"Only in history books," the inkling says nervously, almost sinking into the wall behind them.

The octoling, still standing in a battle-ready pose, seems to recognise that the inkling is equally afraid of him as he is of them. He then looks around him, at the subway station they have found themselves in—the thing that the both of them fear. He loosens up just a little bit.

"Wow, we get all those How to spot an inkling videos drilled into us and they can barely recognise one of us," he mutters mostly to himself.

The inkling simply looks at him confused.

Not bothering to repeat himself, he moves on. "What is your name?"

"...Fen."

"Mine's Neon."

There is a moment of silence before Neon speaks again.

"So... how do we get out of here?"

It is then that the two cephalopods begin to take a closer look at their surroundings. Neon walks up the small ramp towards the train platform in front, all while keeping an eye on Fen, who is turning their attention towards the glass doors behind them. Several posters are attached to the glass, half of which feature stylised pictures of eyes, while the other half show images of security cameras. Both varieties share the same text.

Kamabo Corporation is under 24 hour surveillance.

Though all of the posters at this station are written in Octarian, Fen does not seem to have much trouble understanding them with the added context of the pictures. For just a moment, they look up at where two walls meet the ceiling, eye to eye with one of the cameras. Of course, it still functions.

Neon, after skillfully leaping over the caution tape blocking the ticket gates, stands in front of a broken train taking this station as its final resting place. Next to it, on the seats where passengers would have waited to board, he spots an old newspaper written in Denizen script, which he cannot read, though the front page clearly features a black and white image of an octoling wearing shades, a baseball cap, and a pair of headphones. Heading inside the train, he finds nothing of value, aside from a rear exit leading directly into the subway tunnel.

As he returns to the lower area, one of the posters in particular catches his interest.

Ey yo OCTO! You ready to YEET out of here and into the PROMISED LAND?
Check out CENTRAL STATION for more info, yo!

Between the lines of text is a picture of a telephone box, featuring two bells and a speaker that, together, look very much like eyes and a mouth.

"This place is weird," he mumbles, though he is clearly intrigued.

Fen has meanwhile opened one of the glass doors and is examining the space behind them. Past the corners on each side are stairways, winding around rectangularly with small gaps in the centre, one set leading down and one set leading up. Both are in poor conditions, rubble obstructing the way and rust overtaking the crude handles. Fen carefully leans over to see between the stairs leading down, but they go so deep into the ground that they cannot make anything out aside from an endless spiral of concrete, the dizzying sight causing them to pull away quickly. The other set, the one leading upwards, is entirely blocked by debris, so they return for now.

"What is over there?" asks Neon.

"Uhm—" Fen is startled by the octoling's presence. "Stairs... They lead somewhere, but they're very long and blocked by debris."

"Debris?" Neon repeats the Inkling-exclusive word with a heavy accent.

"Uh... Large pieces of stuff. Concrete, I think. And metal."

"Ohh. Debris." Though referring to the same thing, this word is different.

"Debris?"

"That is what we call it in Octarian."

Fen mouths an Oh, as if they wanted to say it out loud but forgot to put enough strength into their voice.

"There is a train over there. Broken. But the tracks are free. The poster says there is a central station. There could be people there. We should go that way."

Fen looks sceptical, unsure if they understood the octoling correctly. "You mean... walk on the tracks?"

"Yes. I will, at least. You can follow, if you want, but stay where I can see you. I do not trust you fully yet."

"...What if a train comes?"

"Bad luck." Neon shrugs, relatively unfazed by the idea.

Fen says nothing else, simply looking back and forth between the train in the background and the still open glass door leading to the stairs behind them. Both of the cephalopods seems more convinced of their path, but with the differences in language and Fen's general disposition, there isn't much of a discussion to be had.

The octoling sighs. "If you want to go that way, it's up to you."

As Neon begins to make his way back towards the tracks, Fen stays still for a moment, fingers still grabbing the handle of the glass door. Their expression reads uncertain, looking at the corners behind the doors hiding the ruined stairwells, then glancing over at the octoling walking away from them. It seems like, in this moment, their instinct is to go alone on their own path, but they can't ignore whatever it is that draws them towards the octoling.

They sigh, release the handle, and turn around to follow their companion into the broken down train, then out onto the tracks. As they catch up to him just before disappearing into the tunnel leading out of Station H08, Neon glances behind him for a moment, flashing the slightest of smiles.

Chapter Text

140520515073259-A00

A single, monotone tunnel leads from H08 to Central Station, only joining up with another line shortly before reaching it. The two new Subjects walk this path mostly in silence, with Neon attempting to start a conversation a few times before giving up, though he himself seems unsure if its appropriate. When they finally step through the opening leading into Central Station, they are almost blinded by how bright it is compared to the tunnel they have just spent slightly more than an hour traversing.

A rounded glass ceiling with noticeable cracks and a sizeable hole in the middle can be seen from below. Leaping up from the tracks they are standing on, Neon easily makes it onto the platform above, letting an astonished "Whoa..." echo through the room as he sees it in its entirety.

Fen, already on shaky legs from the journey, struggles to reach the platform until Neon offers to help them, grabbing both their wrists and pulling them upwards.

"There you go."

A soft "Thanks" comes in response.

The station continues to be fully functional, well lit and ventilated, the monitors announcing the upcoming arrival of a train, once in Octarian and once in Common Denizen. But the otherwise orderly appearance is disturbed by the enormous pile of debris directly below the hole in the ceiling.

Approaching the rubble, the cephalings can make out its components. Chunks of concrete, metal, and other materials, covered in spots by a slimy, sickly green substance that still drips from the ceiling. And in its center, partially buried, a telephone.

Its speaker is deformed, one of its bells is missing, and its insides now stick out—broken circuity, severed cables, and more of the same green substance. It is a truly disturbing sight. The telephone is beyond repair.

"Is that—the thing from the poster?" asks Neon. Fen seems to be unsure, staying quiet. The two of them simply continue to stare, until they hear a rumbling noise in the distance coming ever closer and an automated announcer repeating "Line A service train is arriving now at platform one. Please stay clear of the platform edge" in several different languages, one of which they can recognise as Octarian. Then, a train enters the station, coming to a stop with a high-pitched screech before opening its doors.

Neon, while suspicious, wastes no time at this opportunity, only giving Fen a quick glance that says something like "I guess that's where we gotta go" before making his way towards one of the carriages.

Until now, the two cephalings had not met another living soul down here aside from each other, so they seem startled by the relative crowdedness of the subway train. What's more, no one inside the car they entered looks remotely like them. Some share similarities—the creature sitting on the bench near the door is bipedal, wearing a suit, calmly reading the newspaper he's holding with his humanoid hands, but his head features a long snout and large eyes unlike any species they might have seen before. The two gulper eels opposite him lack any legs, sitting on their tails while conversing with each other through their wide mouths in a language exclusive to their species. Several jellyfish are present, likely familiar to the inkling, though these ones feature elongated—or in some cases, multiple—heads.

Neon looks around warily. He notices Fen is still standing just outside the subway, peeking in through the doorway.

"You coming?"

The inkling seems even more wary of the situation, but slowly steps into the car after some hesitation.

"I was going to ask someone where we are, but," Neon mutters as the two of them carefully walk past the unfamiliar creatures, "maybe won't be so easy."

Eventually, they pass by a large, thoughtful figure, who has been watching them since they entered.

"Excuse me?" he asks in Octarian, startling the two.

They turn around to see a gentle crustacean twice their height, wearing tinted glasses and a collared shirt, crossing his six arms at them. A hard shell stretches across his back and antennae sprout from his face.

"They call me Iso Padre. I have been on this ride for a long while now, so I tend to notice new arrivals such as yourselves." He looks over at Fen, now taking on a bit of a different accent. "Mmm, I must apologise if my speech is difficult to understand for you, I have been mostly talking to octolings as of late. Do you need me to repeat that?"

"Uh." Fen clears their throat, unsure how to react to being asked a question. "I understood most of it. I might need to practise Octarian anyway."

"You speak our languages?!" Neon butts in.

"I have learned many things from the travellers I've met on my journey, including the way they communicate."

"You've met other octolings? And inklings?"

"Many of your kind find themselves down here for reasons unknown. As faded as my memories may be, I remember seeing many inklings come and go back when I began to travel this facility. But nowadays, most Subjects are octolings."

"Subjects? Wh—Um, can you tell us what this place is? Why we're here?"

"Mmm, so I'm assuming you have not received an introduction from the telephone?"

"The what?"

"It resides outside, in the center of the station, providing guidance for those seeking the promised land. Though it was... more lively the last time I saw it."

"Oh. In the pile of trash."

"You are not responsible for its current situation, are you?"

"Huh? No, it was like that when we got here."

"I suppose that makes sense." The isopod strokes his chin with three of his hands simultaneously. "It must have been that octoling and the elder squid that left for the promised land just earlier. I was sensing something inside them ever since I first spoke with them. Either way, this may mean this place is going to change. At the very least, this ride will be delayed."

He turns his head towards the window, signalling the cephalings to follow suit. They direct their attention towards the broken telephone outside, which is now being examined by a small, translucent blue creature.

"The Conductor has left the train."

The sea cucumber bears no face, so its expressions are difficult to read. But it seems as if it's thinking deeply.

It senses Iso Padre approach, followed by Fen and Neon. "This is concerning," it says in its high-pitched voice. "I do not know what happened to the Commander."

The isopod responds calmly. "Something must have happened after 10,008 collected all the thangs, but we can only speculate as to what."

"That is possible."

"What's the telephone about? The Commander? Something about a promised land?" Neon asks.

"Commander Tartar led passengers to the promised land, communicating with them and the rest of us through this very telephone. But more so, he is responsible for this entire facility. He is an artificial intelligence who created much of what is the Kamabo Corporation, including myself." The cucumber curls up just a little bit, solemnly. It looks at the isopod, who returns a thoughtful, reassuring gaze.

"...But I must not dwell on this. My passengers are my duty, and I must get them to their destination, wherever that may be." It turns to face the two cephalings. "Given the current circumstances, the promised land may be unavailable until further notice. My sincere apologies."

"What is the promised land, anyway?" asks Neon.

"It has been described in many ways, from a utopia of light to a land of dreams. However, I am unaware of what exactly it entails. Passengers would collect the four thangs to prove themselves worthy, so that the Commander would take them there."

"A land of dreams... That sounds amazing."

Fen does not seem as convinced as Neon does, intently observing the wreckage while the others talk.

"Do you think it'll be available again soon?" asks Neon.

"That is uncertain. Only the Commander knows how to reach it, and we are unable to contact him now."

"Hmm... Oh well, thank you, uh"—he takes a look at the Conductor's name tag—"Mr. Cumber."

"You are welcome. Now, I would like to return to my duties as the Conductor of this train. I take it you two are Subjects?"

"Um, I dunno? What does that mean?"

"Are you here to reach the promised land?"

"Oh! I'd like to."

"Then you are a Subject. And you?" The Conductor turns its head towards Fen.

"Uh... I'm not sure."

"Well, in either case, anyone may join us on the train if they wish. There is no fare to ride." He crawls away.

Iso Padre turns to the cephalings before following the Conductor. "The subway has brought many to where they needed to be. And I don't mean just the promised land. I do hope you will find your destinations as well, young squires."

The giant isopod and the tiny cucumber return to the carriage, the former picking up the latter to help cross the small gap between the entrance and the station platform. Neon turns to Fen, with a shrug that says "Not like there's anywhere else to go." Fen presents no counter-argument, and so the train departs with all of them on board, heading deeper into the facility.

140520515074103-DM1

Fen stares intently out the window of the moving train, the sights causing their eyes to widen—giant, mostly empty chambers aside from massive pillars and precarious staircases in the distance, objects of all kinds floating with no explanation, other trains passing by on an incomprehensibly long bridge, and sometimes, water all around them, as the subway becomes submarine for a moment before returning into a dry, narrow rock tunnel.

Neon, meanwhile, is studying the other passengers. Iso Padre appears to be napping in his seat across from them, unbothered by the noise of the moving train. The other Denizens don't appear to pay the cephalings much mind, and to him, they seem to be as mystifying as ever. There are no inklings or octolings to be found.

He sighs, turning to his neighbour. He has a question to ask.

"Why don't you talk?"

Fen, forced out of their own head and back to the inside of the train, looks over at Neon, who meets their gaze with his own, prying eyes. They hesitate, taking a moment to prepare themself to speak.

"I don't know?"

"Is it because of language problems?"

"Not really."

"Just shy?"

"Maybe?"

Frustrated by vague answers, Neon turns away. "...I'm gonna talk to the cucumber instead."

"Hey, Mr. Cumber? How do—did—people go to the promised land?"

The Conductor, who happens to be passing by their seats in this moment, responds dutifully. "They travelled to a variety of test facilities using this metro, in search of the four thangs."

"Thangs? What are those?"

"Various objects. I have only caught glimpses of them and I am unsure how they work, but combined they open the way to the land."

"So if someone found them, could they still go there? Even without... what's his name?"

"Commander Tartar. It can't be said for certain. It may be possible, but it may also require the Commander's help to find the way."

"Where are the test chambers?"

"They are on our route. New Subjects must start with Station A05, and additional stations become accessible when an adjacent one is cleared. Consult the map on your CQ-80 for reference."

"My what?"

"Ah, right. I take it you two did not receive any devices due to the—unresponsiveness of the telephone. Protocol says they should be handed out by the Commander, but—this situation may call for alternative measures. One moment, please."

The Conductor crawls towards the back of the train, returning soon after with two devices almost matching his own size balancing on his body.

"These are CQ-78s, an older model than the current standard. However, they still fulfill all the basic functionalities needed for testing, and they can even communicate with each other. You each receive one CQ Card as well, pre-loaded with 1,000 CQ Points. Please take them."

The two cephalings each take one of the cards along with one of the dusty, but functional devices. Lacking the holographic display, these models simply show a map of each station relevant to testing on the small built-in screen in monochrome colours, navigated with an array of buttons below it.

"...Take care out there. Good luck." He crawls away.

Soon after, in the midst of studying the map, Neon's CQ-78 buzzes, indicating an incoming text message.

'I'm sorry for not talking much,' it says, in an attempt at Octarian grammar that clearly still requires some work. He looks up at the inkling still sitting awkwardly in the seat next to him.

"Oh, uh, it's okay."

The inkling gives a slight, unsure smile before returning to their device.

'Do you really want to find the promised land?'

Neon opens his mouth to respond, but any words are drowned out by an increase in noise from the train as it passes a more poorly maintained section of track. He decides to join them in typing instead.

'yeah. you don't?'

'I want to go home.'

'doesn't a land of dreams sound better?'

'Maybe. If it's real.'

'you don't think it is?'

'I don't know. But I know home is real.'

The octoling thinks for a moment.

'what's your home like?'

'It's'—Fen pauses while typing out the sentence—'quiet. I mean, Inkopolis is a busy city, but I don't go out much, so... it's mostly quiet. But I like that, I think.'

'that sounds nice'

'What's yours like?'

The octoling hesitates. 'it's okay i guess'

The Conductor comes by once again while making its rounds. Neon jumps at the chance to change the topic and ask it a question.

"Hey, um, if someone wanted to leave the facility, how would they do so?"

"Kamabo Corporation does not have any exits that I am aware of, aside from the promised land. The Subjects visiting us are the only indication that a life outside here even exists."

"Ah."

After listening to the two talk, Fen begins typing on their CQ-78 again.

'But those Subjects have to get here somehow.'

'oh true'

'It could be possible to find a way out by learning more about this place. The tests might be a place to start.'

'you're doing tests too? are we a team then?'

'If you want?'

Just then, the train comes to its first halt at station A05, many of the passengers needing to hold on to the handle bars at the somewhat abrupt stop. Neon leaps up from his seat, turning to Fen.

"Let's go."