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Chapter Text

The ‘thangs’ that 8 collected were complete. They had formed into an object that looked eerily like a blender, but 8 did not think much of it. “[DISABLING CONTEMPORARY SPEECH],” The telephone piloting the blender first and foremost spoke, “This is it. It is time to enter the promised land.”

“Well, then! This seems to be it,” Cap’n Cuttlefish, the old guy standing next to 8, said. 8 nodded in agreement.

“I cannot help but feel like… wrong hangs in the air…” 8 spoke, feeling a strong sense of unease, “Why not go first?”

“I suppose I will,” Cuttlefish was the first to walk into the contraption that the telephone had built. 8 wanted to follow suit, but the door closed before she could enter.

“Hey! What’s giving?!” They snapped at the telephone, which did not answer her at first… until finally, it spoke up.

“Through all those tests and trials, Test Subject 10,008… you have succeeded near-flawlessly,” the Telephone began, “That is why I cannot let you leave for the promised land yet… I have much bigger plans.”

“Hey, what’s going on over there?” Marina communicated to 8 over radio.

“Why’s Cap in a blender, and what does that telephone mean by bigger plans?!” Pearl added.

8 began to shakily back away from this phone. They didn’t know why, but she NEEDED to get away. They HAD to get out. Run, leave, go anywhere that this thing wasn’t around.

However… she couldn’t leave, something had grabbed them. A green hand… that of a Sanitized Octoling. A zombie… a pawn to whoever was running this.

“Shoot! Somebody’s gotta do something!” Pearl said.

“We’ll try to contact someone, Eight, hang tight!” Marina said.

The Sanitized Octoling carried a struggling 8 away, and 8 watched as the blender activated and an Inkling flew in to dismantle the blender and save Cuttlefish… but after saving Cuttlefish, the Inkling fell unconscious, unable to save 8 too…

Once 8 had been carried away from any interference, she waited for what felt like hours, daring not to move, lest the Sanitized Octoling nearby had a weapon at the ready. They weren’t connected to a respawn point. She couldn’t risk it.

Soon, an all too familiar telephone appeared… “You see, you are too valuable to just be… blended, Test Subject 10,008. Your power is invaluable to my plans of world domination. You will be sanitized, and added to my army. Do you accept?”

“NO!” 8 snapped, “I AM NOT DOING ANY ACCEPTING!”

“Hm… it’s not like you have a choice,” the phone said, “Sanitize them,” it demanded of the nearby Sanitized Octoling. The Octoling pulled out a needle filled with some green, ink like liquid, sticking it into 8, who tried to avoid it, and injecting the liquid.

“The process is quite simple,” the telephone explained, “The sanitization fluid enters via injection. There, it hijacks the brain. It erases memories and depletes capacity for free will, then spreads across the rest of the body, eventually ending a subject's life, before resurrecting them.”

“You… m-monster-“ 8 groaned, “I… won’t let victory obtain from you!”

“Translating… response found…” the Telephone spoke, “I already have won.”

“Ugh…” 8 felt an extreme headache, her heart feeling slower…

“Eight. Are you okay?!” Marina asked, “Please, tell us your location! We found someone we could send!”

8 didn’t recognize these voices. Who were these people, talking to them? “Wh-Who…?”

“Eight, c’mon! What’s happened to you? Snap outta it!“ Pearl half-pleaded, half-panicked.

Eight? Who… was Eight?

The Octoling looked at their arm… turning green… her hair… turning blue. What was this? They tried to form a sentence, to speak, but she… couldn’t remember.

All they remembered was a song. Two… female voices singing. That song that had touched the Octoling’s heart. What was it called? It started with a C…

It hurt a lot. What hurt? What was happening? Where were they? Who was she?

The Octoling began to feel faint… like they were dying. Were they, though? Perhaps it was… a new life?

Maybe. That’s what the Octoling had hoped, at least… before she drew their last breath, the green enveloping her entire body.

Before they woke up again. But she wasn’t the same.

They were empty.

Chapter Text

Every Splatfest, without fail, the statues would laugh. The laughs were strange, alien, they were not from an Inkling or any other sea life. This, of course, piqued the interest of a young inkling who often fought in Museum d’Alfonsino.

After so long of hearing those laughs, they decided that there was only one natural conclusion to come to: they needed to investigate, to see what was going on. So, in the dark of night, the hour when any and all respawn points were disabled and all inklings and octolings slept peacefully in their beds, the curious inkling headed out of their house and to the museum. It was a long walk, but when they got there, they searched around for a bit.

There seemed to be an odd lack of sound, which disappointed the little inkling. They were hoping to hear the statues, but there was nothing. The statues just sat blankly, as stone should. And so, the inkling decided to waste no more time, and left. That was, until there was a voice, “Come here, come here.”

It was a voice that spoke with a gleeful inflection, as if it were simply giggling out all of the four words it had spoken. This caught the inkling’s attention. “Come here, come here,” it came from the statues. “Come here, come here,” it eerily repeated, each time it spoke felt identical to the last.

The inkling hurried over to the statue, no time wasted. It beckoned, and so they would respond, because naturally did they want their curiosity to be sated. When they reached it, once more did the statue speak, “Hello, hello! It’s been so long since I have had the chance to make a new friend!”

The inkling smiled at the statue, but didn’t say anything. They weren’t one to speak much, and the statue seemed to have a lot to say, anyways. “You’re quite quiet, new friend,” said the statue, “but that’s not a bad thing, it makes you a good listener! Would my good listener like to hear a little story? It’s very short, but you’ll enjoy it.”

The inkling nodded. They didn’t know why or how the statue was able to speak, but they decided not to raise any questions for now, because they wished to be a good listener, and also wanted to keep some intrigue so that they would be motivated to stay around the statue.

“So,” the statue began, never quite losing that glee, “our story begins with a little manta ray, one with big dreams. Let’s call him… Frybert.” The inkling cringed at the name the statue gave. The statue only laughed, saying, “Come now, I’m good at stories, not names! Would you judge a friend for such a superficial flaw?”

The inkling thought for a moment, before finally shaking their head. “I thought not.” the statue said.

Eventually, the statue continued, “Frybert wished to work at an amazing restaurant. When he got his job application accepted in the mail, he was amazed, his dream had come true! It was a shame, really. He never knew what the ingredient they used in their food was until it was too late.”

The inkling’s face scrunched up in confusion, they didn’t understand the implications. They found the statue a bit too vague. “Hmm, here I thought you would be a bit more clever. Oh well,” the statue sighed, “I will come up with another story, a simpler one. It should be ready by tomorrow night. Don’t tell anyone about me, okay?”

The inkling found that to be an odd rule. Leaving the museum, they went back home and slept the night away. The next day they would speak to their friend, an octoling named “Marsh.” They told Marsh about the statue. After all, there was no actual way the statue would know if the inkling actually told anyone, right?

The rest of the day was more of the same. They would compete in the current Splatfest until dark, and then hurry over to the museum. The statue was quite pleased by their presence. “Welcome back, welcome back!” the statue cheered. “I am oh, so happy that you returned! I have another short story for you today!”

“So, there was once an octoling, one by the name of Marsh.” the statue started. The inkling felt a chill run up them. That was the name of their friend, and there was little chance that this could be a coincidence. With caution, they continue to listen to the story. “Marsh spoke to a little inkling, who told her about a rare treasure somewhere. So, Marsh went out to that place to find it, in the dark of the night. Unfortunately for her, when she stepped on a stray splat bomb that hadn’t detonated during a Splatfest battle, and there were no respawn points to access, her fate was clear.”

The inkling’s eyes widened. It knew. How did it know? They had to run, this thing killed Marsh and now it was gonna kill them as well. So, they dashed for the exit of the museum. “Where are you going, friend?” asked the statue, yet it didn’t stop its friend from leaving.

A fog had rolled in since the inkling visited the museum, they found themself running aimlessly, trying to find their way. “There once was a little inkling, one who broke a rule.” How was the voice following them?!

“This inkling ran from their problems, like a coward,” the voice continued and the giggling wouldn’t stop, “and got lost in some fog.”

“Wandering around aimlessly,” their house had to be nearby, they could feel it, “they tried to find a place they knew was safe.”

“Unfortunately,” they lost their footing, “they didn’t know the way.”

“And the little inkling, in the hour where there was nowhere to ressurect,” they plummeted, “fell into the water below.”

SPLASH!