Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Agent 3 checked their phone again, just as they had done 5 times before. They sat cross-legged at the Squid Sisters’ base, playing with their tentacles and watching Smallfry run laps around the snow. He seemed to be having a significantly better time than them, even gleefully running off cliffs only to magically come back behind Agent 3 once they looked out at sea to save him. 

The yellow-clad Inkling stared at the text for ages, still very unsure about what it meant. Yesterday in the middle of their 1am dinner, they got a text by an unknown number. Not too abnormal, they got those all the time! Sometimes it was a classic wrong number, other times it was a weird ad for tentacle oil; this was unlike any unintended pizza order, this was a demand.

“Come to Alterna at 6 sharp. Bring Agent 0.5. Come in your hero gear. Tell Nobody.” 

If Agent 3 hadn’t swapped numbers with Deep Cut after the NSS celebration, they would have probably packed their things and taken a train back to their parents house near the Turf War Craters. They had to text Big Man, who was up studying table turf strategies for some reason, to text Agent 2 if they knew who this number was. 

So now Agent 3 was here in Alterna, looking up at the fake sun and hoping that the text meant 6 am and not 6pm lest their literal captain were to be even more aggravated with them. The tone of the text definitely felt like The Captain, but the confirmation via Agent 2 just made them all the more concerned. What did the Captain want? Why did they not introduce themself in the text? How had The Captain even gotten their number? All of these questions and even more were bouncing around in their head.

They had nothing against The Captain, in fact their perception was the opposite. Learning that they were the successor to The Captain was not that big of a deal at first, but that was before they learned about all of the other stuff, like defeating Octavio whilst being powered by the Great Zapfish, taking on hordes of Elite octarian soldiers solo, and then watching The Captain super jump in their humanoid form and simultaneously zip around clearing off the exorbitant about of fooze on the central island was a spectacle that only brought them more concern. The weird wrinkly old man from the sewers said that he saw something within Agent 3, but if he expected the new version of them to be even a fraction as skilled? Well he was about to be let down immensely.

The Captain was an enigma, clearly somebody with a logical mind and a gaze of steel. There was no telling what she was thinking, but Agent 3 had an idea of the disappointment they had caused. The blank stare every time they clocked out, the slow tracking of their presence whenever she presented the plans of the day through Agent 1 and 2. The only reason they hadn’t collapsed under her air of overwhelming competence was because of the reassuring smile of Agent 1. 

Smallfry perked their head up suddenly, as if wary of something. Agent 3 snapped out of their thoughts and focused on their phone’s time, 6:20 am. Agent 3 stood up as they walked towards Smallfry to check out what was going on, and that is when they saw her. Her beat up, patchy captain’s hat, and the large headphones weighting on her head. Her piercing orange eyes shining wild behind the shadow casted by her bangs. Her stride was filled with lethargic annoyance, as if she just got out of an argument and came here. The Captain.

Agent 3 gulped as Smallfry clambered into their custom ink tank, sitting pretty in the divot made just for him. The Captain’s eyes stayed trained on them right until they sat down on their crate. 

“Sorry. I had to attend to…stuff.” The Captain said with a quiet growl. Agent 3 toddled behind, standing at attention whilst secretly celebrating that they guessed correctly. “No issues Ma’am! Agent 3.5 reporting for duty!”

One would guess that after pleasantries were exchanged, the meat of the meeting would take place. However, Agent 3 found themself being silently examined by their captain, who would occasionally look away and sigh. Agent 3 could feel their heart race as their brain cooked up the many things that they could be thinking. Was their hair off? Did they have a stain on their suit?  If their anxiety wasn’t keeping them standing perfectly still, they would have collapsed.

“So…” The Captain began and Agent 3 listened closely. Though she spoke quietly, it was clear that she had something to say. Agent 3 stilled their breathing to truly hear whatever she had to say, their eyes boring into the shoulders of their captain, too afraid to look them straight in the eyes. The Captain leaned onto their knees in defeat, Agent 3 backing up slightly to give them room to leave if they wanted. 

And once more they were in silence. The light gurgling from Smallfry, and the soft waves from the water being the only things ringing throughout Alterna. 

“Captain, if I may… Why are we here?” Agent 3 coughed out, the Captain looked away as soon as they said, their eyes flickering from them to the floor. Perhaps The Captain needed a way to communicate with them without using their voice. Was that the issue? 

Agent 3 motioned for their phone and Smallfry fished it out, unlocking it for them. They would have pulled up the chat if it wasn’t already open. They began typing messages, unsure if they should be using proper lingo, or if they would seem even more of a disappointment. They settled on a simple “If you cannot talk, you can type. I do not mind”  

Agent 3 kicked themself internally, who says “cannot” these days? Who says “do not”? Why would the Captain care if they minded? They were not the one who could literally open a can of whoopass onto their lesser and probably drown them in Alterna with nobody knowing! A quiet  buzz in their hands grounded them and they noticed a new text from the Captain.

“I apologize, my throat was damaged and it is difficult to talk. That is not why I am not talking though. Please give me a moment”

As Agent 3 finished the message, The Captain stood up and walked behind the crates toward the strange orange structure, and Agent 3 stood by, looking at Smallfry who decided to jump down now that he realized that they were not going anywhere. A loud thump was heard behind them and a loud sigh. A few seconds later, The Captain came out again, their stature and taller and criticizing. Agent 3 shuddered, oh dear.

“Greetings Agent 3, apologies for my behaviour currently and during your campaign through Alterna. Forgive me” The Captain said sitting down once again, Agent 3 nodded, Smallfry  clinging to their shin in fear. This was The Captain they were afraid of, a captain who saw their successor and scowled. The Captain studied them and sighed.

“Dammit.” She muttered, and put her head in her hands. Agent 3 was on the verge of tears at this point, had they made their day so much worse that they had to curse about it? Agent 3 rubbed their wrist, trying to distract from the shaking, hoping the Captain would not have noticed.

“I think we both need to chill out for a sec. Listen.” The Captain said, grabbing their wrist. It was a firm and gentle grasp, one that you would use to securely hold a baby. The Captain took a breath and with soft eyes looked at Agent 3 “I also think I need to reintroduce myself.” 

“I am the Captain of the NSS, also known as Captain 3 or Agent 3, but you’re agent 3 now so… not that last one.” The Captain said with more confidence than they had ever spoken, and yet they feel so different. This significantly less scary version of The Captain inspired Agent 3 to speak, even if it was a shaky mess it was there. 

“I am Agent 3, and this,”Agent 3 lifts Smallfry in front of them “is Agent 0.5, also known as Little Buddy. He is not a pet, he is just like me.” Smallfry toddles up to The Captain’s leg, giving their shin a soft bite surprising them. A quick and tired laugh pours out of Agent 3’s mouth as the Captain looks down at the Salmonid only to gently grab one of his fins and shake it firmly.

“I’m real sorry about all of… this.”  The Captain apologizes, gesturing to the entirety of Alterna. “I’m sure you were just walking around and then Gramps just took you from Splatsville.” Agent 3 awkwardly shifts their weight. Whilst it was true, they couldn’t deny that the entire experience of meeting the NSS and journeying with Smallfry was something they desperately needed. They had moved only a few days ago, and they needed a break from non-stop Anarchy Battles. So what if their life had gone from a team based shooter to an action puzzler with an incredibly intense boss-fight at the end, it was still a mostly fun ride. 

“It honestly wasn’t that bad! There were some parts that I didn’t love, but a lot of parts I didn’t hate either!” Agent 3 reassures The Captain, but she simply shakes her head. She crosses her arms, grown claws digging slightly into her skin. “That’s not the issue. You didn’t know what you were getting into, which is why we are having this meeting. You might want to sit down”

Finally! Answers! Agent 3 sat down in the snow in front of The Captain, their legs practically giving out as soon as they released their lock on their knees. Smallfry squirmed into their lap, their eyes still darting around as they usually do. The Captain pulls out a leather-bound notebook and begins to write in it, peering up at Agent 3 every once in a while.

“I want to conduct your formal interview today, one that you should have had before you even stepped foot into Alterna.” The Captain said. Agent 3’s face dropped. If they had known this was an interview they would have had time to come up with a battle strategy; perfect answers to questions, and flawless counters to incredibly personal information questions. Agent 3 looked on as the Captain continued to write with a smile, almost sadistic in nature “Shall we begin?”

Agent 3 begrudgingly nodded.

“This is a formality but names and ages for both. You don’t have to answer with your real name if you don't want to, but it's whatever you want us to call you. This goes for Agent 0.5 as well.” The Captain begins. A fairly simple and expected question, one that would serve as an introduction of some sorts.

“I’m 18 and would like to continue to be addressed as Agent 3 for now, but Little Buddy?” Agent 3 grins as Smallfry strikes a pose in their lap. “His official name is, and I quote the salmonid himself, The Third Son of The Sea Brine Clan. And he is 26 years old! ” The Captain gave them an amused look. Agent 3 snicker at her face, and Smallfry still stood proud. Family names are a big thing in salmonid culture so it was only right. 

“Ok then, so it is Agent 3 and The Third son of the Sea Brine clan?” The Captain said writing in their journal. “It is, but he still prefers if you call him Smallfry, it just sounds weird to him since it takes so much longer to say his full name.” The Captain nods and continues to write in their notebook, whispering something about “ him finally bugging people who can handle the stress.”  Once she finishes shee peers up above the edge of the cover and continues to ask questions.

“Why do you want to join the force? Or rather, why do you want to stay on the force since you already joined.” The Captain’s first question was reasonable enough. Agent 3 didn’t have any problems staying on the force, but if they said that they would seem undedicated! Then again, if they didn’t want to stay, then why would they care about seeming undedicated? Agent 3 looked down at Smallfry trying to get his opinion, and Smallfry gave a few gurgles. With their limited Salmonid vernacular, Agent 3 thinks that Smallfry said something about honesty? Whilst this was a good idea, they’ve read a lot of things online about job hunting, and every single one said to lie about essentially everything. However, these guides are written without being employed already in mind. Perhaps they should have read up on promotions?

As Agent 3 sat in silence, stumped at the first question, The Captain looked at them with concern. “Is there an issue? You can be honest.”

“It’s just that I don't have a large reason to be here. I want to stay in the force, but I am not sure why.” Agent 3 admits, Smallfry’s gurgles, taking on a happier and proud tone.

“Ok, let's work together then. Do you like the work environment?” The Captain begins. Alterna was a beautiful area when all of the fooze is gone. It has remnants of humanity, and the puzzles were intriguing. However, if they were to never come back to Alterna itself, they wouldn’t mind it too much. Alterna is interesting, but the chaotic Splatlands are always going to be more attuned to their aesthetic. Agent 3 shakes their head and the Captain hums.

“Is it the work itself? Exploring the kettles, unearthing secrets, saving Inkadia from horrifying evils whilst somehow staying under the radar?” The Captain supposes and once more Agent 3 finds themself deep in thought. Whilst this was a nice break, it was also fairly taxing. Getting splatted via sky fooze and forced to become more skilled as the kettles went on were less than calming. Finding all of those old papers buried within the snow was fun, and the alterna logs were an interesting read, but if they were forced to hand over all of that, it would not be that big of a deal. Once more, Agent 3 shakes their head. 

“Ok? Maybe let's try something more open ended. When you clock into the force every morning, what are you the most excited about?” The Captain asks with mild frustration. Ironically enough, this question required the least thought. 

“I would have to say the journeys I get to go on with the force. Hearing you guys over the comms and saying hi every time I get here feels great. There is a lot of hostility in the Splatlands, so this is a breath of fresh air that I feel like I need.” Agent 3 says with confidence, The  Captain smiles and scribbles something down quickly.

“And for Agent 0.5-”

“The fooze.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely”

The stare of Smallfry was finally enough to convince The Captain of their dedication to the fooze. Every single time he was flung towards the stuff he would scream “tasty” in salmonid.

“Alright, next question. Why should we hire you- wait, we can skip that one actually, ” The Captain scribbles something out. “Ok, What do you expect from your work and work place? Essentially, what are your demands if you join us.”

Agent 3 was already fairly content with how they were treated, they weren't being verbally harassed or anything! Agent 3 looks down at Smallfry and as their eyes lock, a flood of emotions fills Agent 3. They can tell that Smallfry felt strongly about something, but they couldn’t tell. Staring into his bulging eyes, they got a better idea of not only the severity, but the sin that was committed toward him.

“Smallfry would like Agent 1 to stop cooing at him whenever he shows up with me.” Agent 3 says, barely acknowledging what they were saying. The words felt like more of a cough whenever you accidentally choke on your own spit rather than a fully formed sentence. Yet, the delivery felt impactful.

“I figured that may have been a problem, I’ve seen Agent 0.5 snarling at her, I can tell her to stop.” The Captain says, circling something on her page, “And for you?”

“Can I get a pay raise?”  Agent 3 muses and The Captain hums. “We can’t give you more than 20,000 per hour at this moment so it may not be doable…why do you ask?” If Agent 3 were drinking they would have done a comical spit-take. In the Splatlands, a common turf war could net you about 1,700 cash if you were focusing on paint and you won. But this amount of money being given to a person so easily in the Splatlands feels unreal.

“Where did you get all of this money? WHY DO YOU LOOK LIKE THAT WITH SO MUCH MONEY?” Agent 3 shouts, forgetting that they are accusing their captain of not only looking like a trash hobo, but a cheapskate. Agent 3 quickly clasps their mouth, but the words were already out and The Captain was cackling with laughter, so much so that she started to cough. After sturdying herself she began to explain.

“The Splatoon is a force that is being sponsored by the Inkling Veterans Force, or the IVF. People don’t really know too much about them, but they get a portion of taxes. Not just from the Splatlands, but all areas where Inklings live are taxed and a cut is given to the IVF. Thing is, the NSS is the only operation running right now because we have been suppressing war efforts and all of the stuff above war efforts, so we get all of the shares. So essentially, the people give us the money to pay you to kick people’s asses. The reason you haven't gotten your money yet is because you never had this interview. Back when the Senior Advisor was captain, he just kinda gave us a sack and told us to divy up. I’m making things a tad more streamlined, so getting your preferred method of pay is part of this process” The Captain says confidently, her voice sounding slightly raspy after both speaking so much and coughing until they couldn’t breathe.

 Agent 3 slumped in astoundment. They had never heard of the IVF before, and they hadn’t realized they were never paid. If they had known they were being paid that much they wouldn’t have goofed off in kettles nearly as much! In fact, they would have worked double time! 

“Also, this get-up is because of the precedent. It’s a staple of the splatoon to look like a hobo. Maybe one day I’ll be the one sticking my head out of a sewer grate.” The Captain finished explaining, leaning back and taking deep breaths to regain her serious constitution. She rubs her throat, coughing slightly as she reaches for a water skin she kept somewhere in that ratty cloak of hers.  Agent 3 flustered, had they truly been that ignorant? They had just insulted what could be years of tradition because they were so shocked about money of all things.

“If you don’t have any more remarks on things we would need to do to help you perform, I’ve got the next question ready,” with silence from Agent 3, The Captain flips a page in their journal and begins writing again, “What weapons are you proficient with? For Agent 0.5, I’ll take any general combat experience.”

“I play a lot of turf wars and do best with the tri-stringer and blasters. I prefer weapons that control space rather than to kill, and blasters just happen to do both.” Agent 3 explains. As The Captain writes, Agent 3 grins. They grab Smallfry and offer them up to the Captain, who looks up slowly in confusion rather than surprise at seeing the little creature shoved in her face.

“The professionally trained, battle-ready 3rd Son of The Sea Brine Clan, is a veteran who knows how to fully operate a Flyfish control module, smack the life out of those who cross him, is easy to deploy, and” Agent 3 smiles and locks eyes with The Captain who was looking disbelief, “Was able to take down a megalomaniac bear in space.” 

“An impressive repertoire, It would be a shame if you were lying.” The Captain said with sarcasm, but when Agent 3 and Smallfry did nothing more than smile, it was the Captain’s turn to be surprised. “Truly? Flyfish modules are apparently difficult to control, impressive indeed.”

Agent 3 grinned. They were always so happy to talk about their Little Buddy’s accomplishments in place of him. When the two of them first met, the salmonid etched their name into the earth in front of them. Agent 3 had to check out an extra crusty book from the library just to find out that not only was his name long as hell, but was also pretty friendly and just wanted help getting home. However, once Agent 3 helped their Little Buddy, and he in return helped them, the duo realized that life would be way too dull without the other and kept going together.

“Alright, you are almost out of the woods. Last question.” The Captain said and Agent 3 relaxed some tension they were holding in their shoulders. . It was almost over, they answered to the best of their ability, and tried to make their character as appealing as possible (ignoring the whole calling The Captain a hobo thing), and hopefully did the same with Little Buddy. They held the salmonid gently but tight in their lap, feeling the energetic wiggles from the smaller and smiled, this really wasn’t so bad. They bonded with the one person who they were convinced despised them.

“What are your aspirations in life?”

Agent 3 sat dumbfounded. Of all the things they could have asked, they asked if they had experienced a mid-life crisis. Agent 3 shuffled in their spot, they couldn’t tell them that not only do they have no aspirations in life, but they were currently going through said mid-life crisis. Their life had been a struggle, living Grizz co. paycheck to paycheck, turfing whenever they weren’t tired out of their mind because of Grizz co., and finding junk in the desert whenever the rotation was garbage. They never had time to truly find something to be passionate about, nor the funds to actually sustain it. 

“I… I don’t actually… know'' Agent 3 spits out, and The Captain gives them a look. Their eyes are full of what looks like pity, but morphs into relation as Agent 3 looks at them more. She shut her book and laid it down beside her crate, kneeling down and putting a hand on their shoulder. Agent 3 cowers at the thought of looking at her again, what would she look like. Would she be disappointed that somebody so promising was actually just a pathetic person who mulled about the most chaotic place around in such a robotic fashion?

“Ever since I became in charge of the NSS, I have been enforcing mental health policies and placed in many work/life balance systems. Because of this, I cannot let you into the NSS as a full time agent.” The Captain said quietly, Agent 3 made a strained smile. They should have figured the second she shut her book. She was angry. How dare they try to join her Splatoon without proper drive to become more than she could. Smallfry began to headbutt their hand, the fluffy hair being a sensory grounding tool. They were always afraid of accidentally plucking it all out, but their Little Buddy trusted them to keep them safe. Little Buddy seemed so excited throughout this entire interview, and they needed to salvage it, if not for themself, him.

“Smallfry wants to learn more about Inkling culture, and why he and us are so different to each other. Why is our culture so different from theirs, they will make a perfect Agent I’m sure of it!” Agent 3 pleads, looking into their friend’s eyes. Even if they would not make it, they could still make sure Smallfry got in. Hey, maybe they will catch up one day. Smallfry growled at their words but they pushed him away. “They are agile, obedient, and sneaky. They have so much potential and they will be able to do whatever your current Agents can’t I promise.”

“Agent 3 you are being unreasonable”

The Captain grabs their cheeks, forcing Agent 3 to look at them once more. Instead of a scowl or a threat it was an understanding and reassuring smile. Agent 3 looked away quickly, nobody had ever looked at them with so much belief. 

“I can give you time, the NSS is planning to stick around here, but in order to motivate you some more, I will give you a time limit.” The Captain said, she grabbed Agent 3’s hands gently and looked into their eyes with a commanding determination. It filled their entire soul with the need to move, to travel, to become what the NSS wants of them. 

“You have 3 months to find something you love, something you want to pursue. It doesn't have to be a job, it doesn't have to be world changing. It just needs to be you. Don't worry about money, I still need to pay you for all of the time you spent in Alterna.” The Captain says and with a raspy and confident tone she asks. “Can you manage that for me Agent 3?” 

There was a moment where the world stood still, though the sun in Alterna was not real, nor was the flow of air, or the smell of snow, but it felt just as real as the rain on their face when they stood outside in a storm. This miniscule bubble of the world felt gargantuan, bursting like an Ink Vac. 

Agent 3 was never a confident person, this entire interview was proof of it. They were a reckless, anxious trash fire ready to spit out flaming wads of newspaper to spite anything, or anyone, nearby. And yet, The Captain still sincerely believes that they can get out of this slump? 

It was hard to believe that anyone other than Little Buddy had their back.

“Yes Ma’am!” Agent 3 says, and it is strange that they believe it. The confidence was foreign, but so too was the verbal reassurance of anyone. It felt like their hearts were throbbing with how much emotion they felt, their hands were shaking with excitement. They felt like they could both run and collapse with the amount of energy they had. How could they not? The Captain herself was cheering them on. The only other time they felt this was right before they were launched into space and fought to the Calamari Inkantation, the sense of community and belief felt better than any drops on their face.

“And you Smallfry,” The Captain says, craning down to look at the smaller salmonid “Keep them on track will you, I want both of you in my Splatoon after all.” Smallfry squawks with pride as he puts a fin over his heart. Agent 3 laughs at the display, their cheeks aching from the pull. 

As they left Alterna and returned home, the sun was in the middle of the day, probably no more than 2pm at the time. Agent 3 stripped off their Hero Suit, neatly folding it and keeping it in the back of their closet for safety. They instantly leapt onto their laptop, looking up common hobbies and stories of success on the internet. They had no time to waste.

They had a captain to impress after all.

Chapter Text

“I get it, you're hungry!” Agent 3 shouted in exasperation. It had been a month and a half since their interview, and they had been non-stop trying to find an interest. They scoured the internet for simple things like dance classes, to see how much a 2-week beginners class at Ink Blot Art Academy costs. They were currently sitting on their couch trying to understand coding, the brackets and clauses being a complete drag, but they pushed on just in case it became interesting.

However, it was hard to concentrate when their roommate was whining and jumping around the room in order to convince Agent 3 to get food. Ever since Smallfry had eaten the fooze in Alterna, he had been a lot hungrier. Constantly needing to snack on something, usually accepting  ice from Agent 3’s beaten up freezer, but today was different. Agent 3 checked the time, 3:27pm. They sigh and push their laptop to the side, they need a break anyways.

“Fine, what do you want to eat?” Agent 3 said grabbing the energetic salmonid by the tail fin and dangling him in the air. He smiled and flung himself onto the couch, babbling in salmonid. Though Agent 3 had been getting better, the speed that Smallfry was talking was making it difficult to decipher. Eventually they were able to get that he wanted “Something Inkling, Something Spicy”

Agent 3 pondered, there weren’t any food joints in the area that  served anything like that. Yeah there was spicy stuff, but it wasn’t anything that Smallfry hadn’t tried  before. As Agent 3 pondered, their eyes drifted to their fairly unused kitchen. They never had the funds to cook once they came to the Splatlands, but they would cook all the time at their parent’s house. Then again, cook was a generous word for boiling rice and baking bread. They walked to their cupboards and looked at what they had. 

Due to said financial issues, they found only a few boxes of cereal, some stray seasonings and a lot of dust. How did they let it get this bad? They went back to the couch and sat next to their Little Buddy, opened up a new browser tab on their laptop and looked up spicy dishes. Nothing was catching their eye until Little Buddy leapt onto their keyboard and tapped a fin against the screen. It depicted a bright and beautiful curry with a variety of vegetables placed on top. It sat upon a bed of steamed white rice with some form of flat bread on the side of the plate. It was called “Onagara Eel-sting curry”, it sounded familiar, but they couldn’t quite tell why. It had Agent 3 drooling at the sight, and Little Buddy was bubbling with excitement. 

“Go get yourself ready, we are going shopping.” Agent 3 said and the salmonid rocketed off into their room, which was a repurposed closet that was filled with all of the Salmonid’s things. That being pocket-sized scraps that they liked and pictures of the duo in different places. It also housed most of the bags that they used to carry Smallfry around.  Agent 3 snapped a picture of the ingredients needed and briefly read over their recipe for what cooking utensils that they needed before grabbing some socks. 

Smallfry re-emerged dragging a tote bag on the floor, quickly getting inside once they saw Agent 3 coming to pick it up. Even though Smallfry stays in the bag in order to be safe from security, they would get weird stares from people eying the moving mound within it. However, they would feel the most embarrassed when employees would hear them muttering to their bag. 

“Why are there so many damn brands?” Agent 3 whispered as they held up another bag of Jasmine Rice. They had been here for 45 minutes already and was still on the 3rd ingredient. They had made some discoveries over the process of grocery shopping, opposed to shopping for cereal and maybe some clothes. The hardest lesson was that there were 10 versions of everything in big stores like MakoMart and it was impossible to tell what the best deal was on sight. They had been calculating the benefits of each thing. Was it worth the quality or should they prioritize the quantity? They also learnt to scavenge for coupons whenever they could to keep their wallet heavy, some of them let you get free things, except they were usually useless to them, they didn’t have enough clothes to logically buy 5 large bottles of detergent. 

Agent 3 sighed and threw in the cheapest brand in order to move on to the next thing, hoping that they could eat by 9pm and not stay in the store forever. Their shopping experience was made even worse when the first thing they heard over the intercom was “Attention shoppers, MakoMart will be on rotation in 10 minutes, thank you for your patience.” They reassured Smallfry and themself that it wouldn’t be that much of a big deal, but when Agent 3 realized that lots of the ingredients were in the “splash zone”, or the zone where there might be a stray Killer Wail or Inkstorm, they almost walked out. Great! There were 5 damn versions of this map in the Splatlands and they just had to choose this MakoMart. 

Just as Agent 3 turned into the aisle with the curry powder, 3 tristringer shots flew toward them. They kicked their cart forward and out of the way, rolling backwards to keep themself safe. The explosion splattered against the tile hitting the front of many boxes and bottles in the aisle, knocking a few over. Concerned squawks from Smallfry had Agent 3 running to check on them, looking around for who shot at them. Thankfully they were the one that was being shot at and not a random civilian. 

“IT IS! HEY THREE!” 

Agent 3 pivots, swinging their cart behind them quickly. Their items shake as they slam into the side of the cart, Smallfry murmurs behind them sounding suspicious, understanding the situation and being ready for a fight. Agent 3’s eyes frantically search before finally locking onto the character who rudely shot at them, their bright yellow standing out against the bland gray of the ceiling. Agent 3 grumbled as they realized who it was, pulling up Agent 2’s chat log and taking a picture of the mess she made. She was waving at them, quite obnoxiously actually, turning away from Agent 3 to talk to somebody only to start super jumping to them. 

“Frye, what made you think you can just shoot at a civilian?” Agent 3 asks sternly, Smallfry growling in displeasure. Frye laughs as they stand up from their squid form, their tri stringer being slug around her torso. Agent 3 held out their phone to the energetic squid showing not only the mess, but a message explaining what had happened.   “I’m telling Boss Marie about this one!” placing their free hand on their hip commandingly. 

“WAIT NO! Please don’t! I wasn’t trying to splat ya! I did a flick shot and it ended up flying off stage. I was gonna see if I had hurt anyone, honest!” Frye pleaded, almost tripping over the Squee-G that was cleaning up the mess she made walking over to her. Agent 3 sighs, as well meaning as Deep Cut seem to be, they have quite the track record of acting before thinking. They roll their eyes, grabbing onto the handlebars of their cart in order to move it out of the way.  Smallfry softly bit Agent 3’s wrist as Agent 3 swiped back to the ingredients list. “Right, I don’t have time to wait for Agent 2 to get here,” Agent 3 thought, “I’ve got dinner to make.”

“Fine, I need to bounce anyways. I need to figure out whatever this Garam Masala stuff is. I’ve been here long enough.” Agent 3 says and apparently that peaks Frye’s interest. She quickly snatches their phone and looks at the recipe, gasps and grabs Agent 3’s hand much to their protest. 

“You’re making Onagara curry? You gotta let me get in on that grub!” Frye says giving Agent 3 puppy eyes. Agent 3 was more confused that Frye not only knew that they were making curry just from the ingredients list, but it was Onagara specifically. That is when they remembered the sunken scrolls throughout Alterna, and how one of them was talking about some of the dances that Frye used against them in their fight. They turn to Smallfry to discuss.

“I know you probably don’t want to because she accidentally almost killed us,” Agent 3 began, earning a deadpan glare from the salmonid. “She’s an insider! Part of the Onagara clan n’ everything! If you want quality you’re gonna want her.”

Smallfry squinted, his gaze flipping from a pleading Agent 3 and the brash moron that is Frye. This was not the first time Frye was going to be the leading cause of his death and it certainly won’t be the last. He weighs his options, his throat producing a guttural growl. This would be a difficult shopping trip, a battlefield filled with not only other cephalopods, but literal battles at the same time. The air conditioner howled in the distance, and Now or Never began to play from the turf war Frye was just in. The danger was immense, too much attention on them and Smallfry could be exterminated, too little and Frye would probably pull something in order to get it. Despite the many negatives, the food will have been worth it.  Smallfry looks back up at Agent 3 who had been staring at him the whole time and stopped growling, nodded, and hid back into the tote bag. At least he would not be taking the brunt of the force that is the wild one, Frye.

“We have decided, you may join us. However, you should probably get back to that turf match. I think it'll end in like, 30 seconds.” Agent 3 points out and Frye just laughs carefree, walking deeper into the aisle. “I’m sure Shiver won’t be too mad. Besides, I’ll tell them I stopped us from getting another talking too and they’ll probably be able to swallow their pride and take the loss.” Frye said, bending down to grab some of the boxes that fell down after the shot.  Agent 3 couldn’t tell if they had made a grave decision or not. They pushed the cart after Frye who seemed to go straight to a certain brand and ran back, dumping it in the cart. She took a second to look at the ingredients in the cart before repulsing dramatically.

“Not to cramp your style or nothing, but you sure you want to get pre-chopped onion and minced garlic? It’s better to just get the raw ingredients and do it yourself.” Frye said, holding up the two jars she was talking about. Agent 3 learnt how to do simple stuff, like cook rice and baste a duck ; however their parents never taught them how to use a knife properly. 

“I don’t actually know…how to… do… that.” Agent 3 looked down as they admitted to it. They suddenly felt a wave of anxiety rush through them, they were really just planning to follow the recipe with no practice. They could have messed up this dish so bad that Smallfry would have to question if he should eat it, and after being so open to eating the fooze that would be an impressive and pathetic feat. Frye would have been disgraced, her culture being slandered at this excuse of a dish. Frye simply put the two jars onto the shelf and grabbed the front of the cart.

“No reason you can’t learn now, yeah?” Frye says with a smile, leading Agent 3 to the fresh produce aisle. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be as bad as they expected.

Over the course of the trip, Agent 3 learned a lot of things about Frye and cooking in general. Apparently when Frye lived with their family they would help out with cooking and even though they hated doing it, the payoff was more than worth it. They listened to stories from Frye’s youth, they learned about how to tell if a cut of meat was poorly packaged, they discovered that Smallfry got really happy whenever he gets to hold spoons, and they learned that no, you cannot replace a non-stick frying pan with a cast-iron skillet. Of course there were many hiccups. Smallfry almost gave away his position because he didn’t want to let go of the spoon so badly, and Frye’s lack of spatial awareness had her constantly running into other inklings and jellies. They left MakoMart at 5pm with hope in their heart. 

“Thanks for the help, I would have been there for way longer if I didn’t have your help” Agent 3 says, backing into their apartment door. Their arms were filled with paper bags spilling with kitchen utensils. Plates, cutlery, pans, knives, and other miscellaneous things clattered as it was released onto the kitchen countertop. Smallfry crawled out of his tote bag as soon as Agent 3 put it on the couch, crawling onto the granite near the stove with gurgles of excitement. It was finally time to start cooking.

“Hey, no prob! I can stick around to help with cooking if you want. It’s been forever!” Frye says, slinging the ingredients onto the counter next to the sink. They began to unpack everything for the curry with a smile as if Agent 3 had already agreed to their help. Agent 3 smiled as they unpacked the pans and laid out the cutting board, ready for the process. “I would appreciate it. Besides, food is usually best served freshly cooked and I have a feeling I may need that bonus.” 

The kitchen roared to life as the two began cooking. Agent 3 would begin with reading the instructions and telling Frye their plan. Sometimes it was an easy battle, like using Frye to measure the spice level. Other times it was trying to keep visibility whilst their eyes burned from the onions. The aroma of the kitchen continued to create a form of energy within Agent 3’s apartment, even though the pressure was high Agent 3 still found themself smiling and having fun. 

There were some close calls, Frye almost added too much curry powder, Agent 3 was on the verge of letting the duck burn, and Smallfry had to resist the need to fling himself into the pan to be seared. However, as the group  began to plate they were only more and more proud of what they made. The moist and fluffy steamed rice served as a reliable base to the scarlet curry to sit upon. The juicy duck  that lay uniform upon the curry was garnished with some spare cilantro, sparkling under the lights of their kitchen. In the middle, a store bought Naan bread sat on a large plate, ready for anyone to take. It was a picturesque moment that Agent 3 wouldn’t regret.

As they began their feast, Agent 3 smiled. It wasn’t bad! Whilst the flavor was good, the duck was slightly too tough to be called perfect. The curry didn’t cook down enough, the ratio between the rice and the curry was skewed, and they definitely added too much lemon juice. However, it was still cooking. Agent 3 smiled upon their first bite, they made this dish. They created it from scratch. They dipped the Naan bread into the curry just like Frye said. They laughed as Smallfry’s beak ended up bright red from the sauce. 

As Frye left with half of the leftovers, Agent 3 began to wash their new dishes. Smallfry slept quietly on the window cill in front of them, their satisfied snores being a source of comfort. They may not have made much progress toward their goal, but it was a much needed break from their stressful life. They gently carried their companion to his room, laying him upon his pillow and tucking him in gently with a smile. 

Suddenly, their phone got a ping. Agent 3 looked upon it to see that Frye has texted them multiple attachments. Unlocking their phone, they realize that they were pictures of their adventures today. There were some pictures of the shopping trip, Frye even sneaking a picture of Smallfry sleeping in the tote bag! There were a lot more pictures of the cooking process, some with Agent 3’s horrible knife skills to Frye taking a selfie whilst stirring the curry pot. Agent 3 couldn’t help but smile, making a picture with all 3 of them their phone background. They got another text soon after. 

“I haven’t heard from you today, something wrong?”  

Agent 3 had been texting The Captain about all of their failed attempts to prove that they were trying. They sent in a picture that Frye took of them and Smallfry enjoying the Onagara Eel-Sting curry and followed up with a text. 

“Sorry, I took a break with Frye.”

Chapter Text

The second month was coming to a close and Agent 3 began to worry, and with worrying came cooking. Ever since they cooked that Onagara recipe, they found that cooking brought back feelings of community. They were slowly getting better at it, learning more fundamentals and buying cook books whenever they see an interesting one when they go grocery shopping. Cooking had mildly taken over their life, and that was not good. 

They decided to drop coding once they realized their mind drifted to flavor combinations, but that was only the first of many. Agent 3 liked the idea of croquet, but when they saw a strange kitchen utensil they decided to buy it and experiment. They tried picking up singing, but their voice began to hurt and they got sucked into research about different voice remedies and teas. 

A loud groan came from them as they finished banana oatmeal pancakes, no longer having a reason to stall the grind. Agent 3 had run out of ideas for other pastimes, they had gone through most of the interesting things on all of the tacky websites, and they didn’t think they wanted to do yoga any time soon. They were desperately searching for a niche interest that they could get into, but every time they tried it wasn’t as interesting as cooking. 

Smallfry wolfs down another mini-pancake with a thankful growl, dragging his plate into the sink and getting a drink of water, at least Agent 3 had somebody who benefited from all of their stress. They stared into the screen of their laptop and slump down as they continued to search, it felt more like a job hunt than a self-discovery adventure. They were about to take a nap when the sounds of Fins Up began playing. Agent 3 pushes their plate over to grab their phone with one hand and starts to drink the juice in front of them with the other. They quirk a brow as they read the name, and pick up the phone.

“You don’t usually contact anyone this early in the morning.”

“Do you happen to have any rice vinegar? I need it.”  

“That is certainly one way to say hello, Shiver.”

“Ok sorry, hi. Now answer the question.” Shiver grumbles over the phone and Agent 3 chugs the remainder of their juice. They lay their dishes in the sink next to Smallfry and strides over to their cupboards flinging them open, pushing past the soy sauce and chili oil to reach into the depths of their storage. Finally, a bottle with a plastic lid is pried from the back with a peeling label reading “rice vinegar”

“Yeah I’ve got some. Why? I thought you guys don’t have time to cook.” Agent 3 says placing the rice vinegar on the counter and looking at Smallfry. They throw their head toward his room as they grab a coat. Smallfry quickly runs across the counter, hopping onto the top of the trash can, and then onto the floor. He runs straight through the nudibranch flap that they installed for him and goes to grab his things. 

“It's Master Mega’s birthday and I had everything ready! However, this morning-” “So 5 minutes ago?” “Shut it! Essentially I picked up rice wine instead of rice vinegar and I really need it. He is going to be here in 2 hours and I was planning to make the Shark-Tooth Onigiri fresh!” Within Shiver’s panic Agent 3 hears a dish they had never heard of before. They grab the quaint  handbag Smallfry had chosen for today and slip the rice vinegar into the pocket of their quilted jacket, and rush out barely remembering to lock the door behind them.

“Were you going to make this, Shark-Tooth Onigiri, by yourself? You sound pretty stressed.” Agent 3 says lightly jogging in order to get there even slightly faster. They hear clattering pots on the other end,a beeping of a rice cooker and the rustling of plastic bags. They slide into the train station, frantically looking for the stop that will take them from their apartment building to the heart of the city the fastest. If Smallfry hadn’t yelped in surprise they might have accidentally slammed him into a doorway with how fast they were going. 

“Frye promised that she would help me, but with this development she is actually going to be stalling Master Mega. Oh it, he is going to be so mad.” Shiver said Agent 3 could hear the hand running over the octoling’s face. Agent 3 decided to shift gears  in order to distract Shiver for a bit. They find a seat to sit in, Smallfry peeking over the rim of the bag in order to see the sights outside the train. He couldn’t get all the way to the glass, but he could at least get as close as he could. “So what is Shark-Tooth Onigiri?”

“Onigiri is a traditional dish, it is essentially seasoned rice triangles that can be filled with stuff, wrapped in nori,” Shiver says, “It’s supposed to fit in your hand, but the ones I am making are for Master Mega. I call them Shark-Tooth Onigiri, not only are they as large as shark teeth, but they are shaped like them too, unlike the classic triangular shape.” Agent 3 imagines the proportions in their head and gape, would this be enough rice vinegar.

“Hey, I don’t know if I have enough rice vinegar for something of that caliber.” Agent 3 admits sliding the bottle into their hand. Shiver sighs. “It’s fine, call me back once you are outside of the studio. I’ll let the security know you’re here to help me.”

And with that Agent 3 found their morning completely uprooted on a train heading straight for the center of the Splatlands with a bottle of rice vinegar and fear pumping through their veins. They place their bag on the top of their seat, blocking the sight of it from most angles. “In clear, look.” Agent 3 said with rough pronunciation, but it was good enough for the lone salmonid to understand. Thank god salmonid language is gurgles and grunts, they could simply play the sentence off as a terrible cold.

They feel Smallfry move from behind their head, his quiet and pleased chirps filling their ears as he looks out to see the beautiful sunrise dance upon the buildings of the chaotic city of Splatsville.

They took in the city alongside Little Buddy from the opposite window, the many tall apartment buildings having advertisements, including one that still hasn’t been taken down for Salmon Runs. Agent 3 darts their eyes away, not wanting to open that can of worms this early. They began to look up more about Onigiri as they waited, each stop and start of the train bringing new citizens to watch over the top of their case. 

“Splatsville Lobby in 2 minutes” the intercom echoed into the silent train and Agent 3 pocketed their phone, gripping onto the bottle of rice vinegar in their pocket. They cross their legs as they softly head butt Smallfry’s back, the salmonid retreating into the confines of the bag with some disappointed chirps. As the station came into view, Agent 3 stands up early grabbing the bag and leans against the side wall of the train.  The doors were barely open a crack before Agent 3 jostled themself out toward the heart of the Splatlands. 

“Hey, I’m here. Let your security guy know I’m chill.”

Agent 3 stares up at the back door as they drum on the dumpster beside the staircase leading up to it, Smallfry becoming antsy to run around. They bring the handbag toward their face, the duo staring each other down. 

“It’s your fault you chose this bag y’know.”  Agent 3 accused shifting their weight to one leg and putting their hand on their hip, earning a displeased whine from the smaller. They slap their arm, loudly growling about “lack of style”  on Agent 3’s part. The pair squint at each other, Agent 3 recognizing Smallfry’s snide comment as fighting words. The things they could say back started filling their mind. Perhaps they could go with an emotional hit, saying that he smells like the dumpster they were beside, or that his mohawk hair-style was a little too adventurous. They could also go for physical damages, who said Smallfry needed to eat any of their good cooking anyways? 

However, before an all out turf war began behind the Anarchy Splatcast station, the back door opened quickly displaying an Inkling in a suit. They looked at Agent 3 with concern and suspicion and thankfully decided not to ask. With a polite smile and wave, they slipped past the security guard and began to head in. Here they let Smallfry run around, there was a significantly lower risk of being shot on sight here at least.

“HEY SHIVER! I GOT YOUR VINEGAR!” Agent 3 shouted, their voice reverberating through the room and into the walls, they even saw their little buddy jump before going back to whatever he was doing. The backstage of the studio was mostly living space for Deep Cut, probably in an attempt to pay less rent. The place was covered in various displays of furniture with no coherent theme, one corner was all about the color green only for the sitting room next to it was all a dark yellow. The most notable thing about this living space wasn’t even the clutter on every elevated surface, but the sheer size of it. 

“Three! You are a lifesaver!” Shiver calls running around the corner in order to greet the Agent. They look around and bite their lip, realizing that their living space didn’t look like it came straight from IKOIA. Agent 3 quickly slips the rice vinegar into their hands and gives them a smile, Shiver instantly noticing and smiling back. They grasp the ingredient tight and spin around, striding over to the kitchen once more. 

“Are you sure you can finish on your own?” Agent 3 walked behind them sheepishly, their mid-sized kitchen coming into view. It looked similar to their own, just enough to survive. A small gas stove sat with an exhaust hood near the back of the kitchen surrounded by a toaster and a rice cooker on either side, both steaming with life. The sink was full, holding what looked like freshly caught tuna, with many other coolers on the floor beside it, a towel placed hastily beneath in order to stop any fish leaks. 

“I suppose I will have to.” Shiver says as they pop the lid of the rice vinegar open and start pouring it into a popcorn-sized bowl of rice. They mix it in with an apprehensive sigh, moving the rice around with the scoop in almost hoping to uncover more they didn’t see. “I don’t even know if this will be enough, Master Mega has quite the appetite.” 

Agent 3 weighs their options. They weren’t planning on cooking today. In fact, they were planning to get take out as a punishment for all of the cooking they had already done. However, they couldn’t just let Shiver make a meal for somebody who could eat 3 of their own stomach. Agent 3 sighs as they place their bag and coat on a dining room chair and roll up their sleeves to wash their hands. 

“What are you doing?” Shiver asks dejectedly, scooping out more rice from their rice cooker and Agent 3 looks at them with a grin. “You can’t cook with dirty hands.”

Agent 3 and Shiver sat there at the dining room table making Onigiri with idle prattle as they went. Agent 3 was learning all sorts of new skills like fileting a fish rather than getting a ready-made cut from MakoMart, and tested some old skills like portioning and balancing ratios for taste. They started small, making the ones that Shiver would enjoy with Master Mega on their father-daughter day together, whilst Shiver focused on the ones for Master Mega himself, slowly but surely creating an Onigiri the size of their forearm. They had made it halfway through the ingredients when tragedy struck once more.

“Hey Shiver, either I cut this too thin or something is off about this tuna.” Agent 3 says, barely holding onto the fish due to how slippery it was. Shiver pushed their chair out and rushed over when they heard, only to gasp in agony. 

“Coddamn it! How did they let rotten fish get into this batch? How much Tuna did you cut out of the cooler this came from?” Shiver demanded, rushing to their pantry to grab a black plastic bag. Agent 3 started to transfer the festering fish from the cutting board to the bag, holding their breath to distract themself from the atrocious smell.

“Everything on the plate to the right.” Agent 3 said. Shiver quickly snatched the ceramic plate and tossed it in with the rest of the rotten fish to Agent 3’s surprise, the smash of ceramic against the tile floor startling them. Shiver washed their hands once more before kneeling down and rifling through the third and final unopened cooler, Agent 3 watching in awe and concern at the speed they were searching through the fish. Their stomach dropped when Shiver held up another rotting tuna, the octoling slamming it into the styrofoam cooler only to pick the entire cooler up, throw it into the bag out of frustration and tie the bag off. 

“Why are we throwing the fish?” Agent 3 asked tentatively, “I mean not all of them should have been rotten!” Shiver sighed heavily as they hauled the bag toward the back to throw out. 

“That isn’t true, as soon as one rotten tuna gets into a batch, the entire load is good as gone. All the decomposition fluids and bacteria are squirming all over them already, and they can cause horrid food poisoning.” Shiver snapped leaning against the push bar of the back door and flinging the black trash bag over the stair railing and square into the dumpster and Shiver huffs.

“I won’t have nearly enough time in order to go to the fishmonger AND make Master Mega’s Onigiri, Cod I should have checked!” Shiver shouted, their voice beginning  to waver as they lean against the wall of the back entry way. Agent 3 stood there awkwardly, they aren’t usually on the  comforting side of panic attacks, but they did know what helps them. They gently put their hands in view of Shiver, slowly moving them towards the others. Shiver grapes onto them tightly and Agent 3 leaned in close. 

“Hey let's take some breaths ok. Breathe with me. '' Agent 3 said, squeezing Shiver’s hands as they took gentle and greedy breaths to encourage Shiver to do the same. Shiver’s thousand league stare became more and more refined as the long moments dragged on. Shiver’s once cloudy mind began grounding itself, ignoring the spiraling feelings within them and slowly they reached a level of calm Agent 3 could work with.

“Why are you crying?” Agent 3 said, not in an angry and accusatory manner, and not in a childish babying voice, but in a serious and supportive tone. Shiver took a second before answering, squeezing their eyes shut.

“I won’t be finished with the Onigiri” Shiver said, removing their hands from Agent 3’s grasp and began to fiddle with their metal trinket on their shirt, relishing its cold sting against their fingers. “And then Master Mega will be upset with me”

“Why would he be upset with you?” Agent 3 asked, leading Shiver to the sitting room slowly in order to sit them down. Shiver follows tentatively, their senses still numbed and eyes tired. They sit down once guided onto the soft plush couch, as a small shark toy was placed into their lap by a gray fin. Some pressure is felt on Shiver’s left thigh, and looking toward it creates a blur that moves and bobbles with unknown rhythm, watching it was a nice distraction.

“Me and Master Mega would always make Onigiri with me on my Birthday, so I was hoping I was able to make some for him.” Shiver admitted, clutching the small shark toy tightly, the short fibrous fluff tangled beneath the sweat on their hands and clinging onto their fingertips. Agent 3 hummed, usually the person helping them would problem solve with them.

“So why can’t you do the same today? Don’t you think Master Mega would enjoy making onigiri with you again? I’m sure he would love to watch his little pup’s skill get better over the years.” Agent 3 saw as Shiver’s shoulders began to loose tension, gently floating to a more stable position. Their face looked more attentive, their eyes looking like they were actually focusing on the environment around the two. Shiver fidgeted with the shark toy, running their claw around its black, glossy, beaded eye.

“But this is Master Mega’s birthday. I can’t have Master Mega be doing things on his birthday! He would hate me.” Shiver said sternly, tension rising again as they hunched their back out, shoulder blades poking through the skin draping over their back. Agent 3 started to sweat, they didn’t have much of an answer to that one. Agent 3 started and stopped sentences over and over again as they struggled to find an answer. A small squawk from Smallfry drew Agent 3’s attention. Smallfry was currently standing on Shiver’s leg as he usually does when Agent 3 goes into a panic, as he begins to talk. Agent 3 focused hard on the salmonid as he spoke, and got the gist of what he wanted, giving the smaller agent a small applause for his quick thinking.

“Ay! (Were you angry and hateful when you made onigiri with Master Mega on your birthdays?)” The voice asked again. Agent 3 looked behind them to see Big Man coming out of his room to the right of the kitchen. Shiver gasped as sniffled as they saw him coming over to the seating area, and sat on the other side of him. 

“I- Big Man I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you up! You were busy yesterday and-” “ Ay! (Don’t sweat the deets, let’s focus on the now. Answer the question.)” Big Man seemed to be handling the entire situation much better than Agent 3 was, giving Shiver a gentle hug and speaking calmly. Big Man had visible eye bags, possibly from spending all night doing something.

“I suppose not.” “Ay. (You suppose?)” “No I wasn’t. I had lots of fun.” Shiver began to lean back, unfurling their body from around them. Big Man’s presence and personality framed his cheeky and sometimes challenging remarks as more simplistic and straight forward concepts. Shiver seemed to be a lot more calm and open with the manta ray, accepting the harsher treatment out of love.

“Ay! (See! You’ll be fine! Besides, where is Frye?)” Big Man asked, looking around for the bright ball of electric chaos. Shiver sighed and shook their head, standing up and going to the kitchen to clean their hands and wash their face. Smallfry jumps off as Shiver stands and looks at Big Man. Big Man waved at the salmonid, Smallfry waved back.  

“Apparently Frye was supposed to be distracting Master Mega. No idea how she is doing it, but he hasn’t shown up yet-” As Agent 3 began to explain the situation, a large bang was heard throughout the studio. Big Man rushed out to the main studio entrance, Agent 3 lagging behind to snatch their bag and let Smallfry crawl into it. The main foyer of the studio was filled with a large and familiar shark, teeth snarling and eyes piercing. The saddle and jet booster that they wore during their scuffle was absent, instead replaced with a lovely bow tie around their neck, the shades still resting on their nose. 

Frye on the other hand was being dragged by her tentacles by Master Mega’s maw. She looked absolutely exhausted, and very beat up. Her usual hairstyle was falling apart at the seams, her pants being fairly ripped. As soon as she laid eyes on Big Man and Agent 3 she smiled and waved gently, trying to walk toward them only to be pulled back.

“I late an hour to my pup. You not to stop me for  clearance.” Master Mega growled, his inkling was clearly being practiced on, but it was more than enough to spook the soul out of the receptionist who was just trying to confirm that this was Shiver’s pseudo dad. Agent 3 rushed to Frye trying to make sure that she hadn’t taken too much damage whilst Big Man tried to explain the situation to the receptionist. Eventually, the receptionist was convinced that this was not only Shiver’s guest, but that they shouldn’t call security and he was led inside. The second Shiver saw Master Mega they smiled, running over to their master and started talking in another language that Agent 3 hadn’t heard yet, later confirmed to be deep-sea fairing in origin as the primary language of their clan. 

The Captain sighed as she walked along the streets of the Splatlands. She could barely believe that most of her time as captain was spent in IVF meetings and trying to convince Sheldon that the NSS didn’t need more deadly firearms that were straddling the line between weapon and mass destructive bomb that caused the humans to go extinct. 

She moped around trying to get back to her home when a loud sound was heard, looking back at the commotion revealed that it meant more to her than she thought. Big Man was seen trying to get Shiver to calm down as they ripped into a poor fishmonger, Frye encouraging them only to continue. Beside them they saw Master Mega and Agent 3 speaking quietly, Agent 3 being fascinated by the knowledge that they were being relayed as they snuck in a bite or two of cured tilapia to Smallfry. The Captain smiled as they saw the sight and opened their phone to a fairly inactive chat.

The last time the two had spoken was last month for their progress report, partially because there was nothing to talk about but mostly because of the disclosure rules.

“There is somebody I would like you to meet. Once your parents let you, come to the Splatlands.”

The Captain hoped that the two of them meeting would be beneficial to the other’s journey but there were no guarantees. She began to walk away as she read her response and smiled.

“I am no more than a ward. I will be there within the next month at the very latest.”

Chapter Text

“Guys, I don’t think I’m gonna be rejoining the NSS”

Agent 3 stares blankly at the calendar, the agreed deadline circled in red burning into their retinas. It had already been two months, and they still had nothing. They were going back through their materials, maybe they could try croquet like they were supposed to? They fell back onto the scratchy plush of their couch with a groan as they landed atop instructional books and random gadgets. Pressing their palms into their eyes, Agent 3 mentally went over everything they could do again, and again, and again.

They heard many notifications go off from their phone, not a single one encouraging them to stand up from the calendar’s oppressive presence. Smallfry hopped onto the coffee table to retrieve the inkling’s phone, dropping it onto Agent 3’s face once he got back onto the couch. Agent 3 groans, turning onto their side. They curled into themself, absolutely dejected.

Smallfry surveyed them for a while but all his friend did was lie there, paralyzed by their responsibility that was quickly swallowing them faster than a Maw with a taste for ink. He remembered the spark of excitement in their eyes when they got home the day of the interview, safe in the knowledge that they would be able to impress The Captain and how they worked tirelessly. He joined in as they zipped all over the Splatlands in order to find anything they would enjoy, and yet the only thing that he could see now were dull eyes and a lethargic body. 

Smallfry had simply had enough of it. He let out a frustrated growl as he looked around the apartment, he knew his way around the home but he never actually wanted to go out without Agent 3. He was always eager for an expedition, but he also knew that exploring with Agent 3 was much safer for a salmonid in the Splatsville plaza. Finally, a small air duct caught his eye, sitting right above the fridge as well. Smallfry gradually made his way up, hopping from the bread box to the inside of a cupboard, and then from the cupboard to an upper shelf. Eventually, he found himself eye to eye with the grate in front of it, sneezing at the dust in his nose.

Throughout Alterna he had been faced with many of them, but he was able to fit through the bars most of the time. He eyed the rim of the grate, locating some small screws and started to gnaw on them, slowly twisting them through raw salmonid strength. Eventually, he had gotten the bottom two off, the top two being just loose enough to squeeze his pudgy little body through. 

As Smallfry spat out the bitter, flaky paint stuck in his mouth he looked back at his friend, squinting in determination as he spied their figure; crumpled and hopeless. With a sense of purpose in his heart he turned his back to them and ran into the vent, his dorsal fin slapping against the walls as he burst through. He would return with assistance, because if there was one thing that would bring that spark back, it was cooking. This mission would have to be a solo mission for now, and thus Agent 0.5 was on his first excursion.

His first road block came faster than the salmonid expected, an actual exit. The aluminum tunnels he was running through felt endless, and thus he needed an exit into the real world. At every grate he spied through the gaps trying to find anything that he could use, eventually getting distracted by a delectable scent that wafted through the tunnels. He pressed his eyes against the grate, his beak drooling at the smell of a fresh dish. He saw an innocent inkling dancing in his apartment, baking a pie. According to most inkling and human media he had consumed up until that point, he should be trying to put said pie on the open window sill. And with the open window sill, came the outside world.  

Agent 0.5 began to scan the grate for any weaknesses. Sadly, these grates were applied with the screws facing outwards, which meant his previous method was already flawed. However, he realized that with many thin bars, came weaker structural integrity. He began to chew on the bars, slightly inking them up and making them fragile. After a few minutes of chewing and growling Agent 0.5 had almost done it, now he needed to wait for the perfect moment. 

The inkling came back a few minutes later, and began to open a window sitting above the kitchen sink. Agent 0.5 grinned. As soon as they bowed down to check on their pie, Agent 0.5 let out a salmonid battle cry and slammed his cranium into the weakened bars, the grate splintering into pieces as it was broken. The resident of the apartment looked up and screamed, backing up next to their sink and grabbed a spoon, damn. The salmonid squinted, looking around to get an idea of his surroundings. His eyes caught the sight of the, literally, mouth-watering pie, the surface was golden with small sugar crystals melted upon its pastry body. The entire balance could easily be thrown off with the smallest change to heat. 

Flicking his eyes between the enemy and his escape route, he examined the oven. The black glossy frame was the same one he watched his comrade labor over. The same knobs, the same stove tops, and the same temperature controls. Agent 0.5’s eyes tracked the figure as he leaned forward toward the inkling, him fruitlessly jabbing forward with his wooden spoon in return. As the enemy lunged again, Agent 0.5 took the opportunity to bolt toward the oven, clambering up the cupboards messily to the granite counter tops. The salmonid grins as he jumps over the stovetop, slapping the buttons to increase the heat as he goes. The inkling yelps as he rushes over to calm the blaze of the machine, desperately turning off the oven and Agent 0.5 completes the first part of his mission as he leaps out of the window onto the concrete of the outside hallway. He looks between the rusted metal railings as the wind runs through his hair.. Next step, Splatsville square.

“Smallfry…?” Agent 3 weakly groans for the third time. They hadn’t seen him in an hour, and they were getting concerned. They had finally gotten up after staring at the bland upholstery of the couch, and dragged their feet across the floorboards as they did. They checked his room, their room, the kitchen, the bathroom, even the closet where they kept the unused ironing board. Nothing. They hugged themself with a loose grasp, their shoulders shaking and their sobs filling their throat like foam. They choked on their spit as they cried. They never thought they would be alone again. 

A knock rang throughout the apartment, Agent 3 jumping in their skin as they slammed their hands over their mouth. They stared doe-eyed at the door and quickly scuttled away from it, the booming knocks from the door melding together like monstrous cries. Agent 3 rammed their hands over their ears into their head, how could they even call themself a candidate for becoming part of the NSS like this? They needed to be battle ready, smart, elegant and powerful; not cowering like a child because of a little stress. Their thoughts began to coil around their brain, painfully squeezing it as their doubts bubbled and popped loudly within their head. 

Suddenly a smooth fin was felt on their back, and they kicked away from it, their knees barely moving as their muscles locked up. They could feel the world spinning, and they couldn’t tell if they were on the floor or hanging from the ceiling. Agent 3 squeezed their eyes shut as they began to take deep breaths, each time they tried a new incriminating sob escaped through their throat. There was an intruder and they couldn’t even stop crying to fight, no wonder Smallfry left.

Through the cacophony of self doubt that clouded their senses, a smell hits Agent 3’s nose. The sizzling of onions filled their ears and they looked up with worry and curiosity, who was cooking in their house? A low hum was heard as Agent 3 slowly regained their composure, the senses helping them distract from the growling beasts in their mind. They waddled over to the kitchen silently, leaning against the walls and almost collapsing once or twice as they lost balance, and peered in through the cut out to see a familiar large figure, he turned around and met their gaze.

“Ay! (Good to see you’re back up and running, you looked like you needed some comforting food. Help me cut some vegetables would ya.)” Big Man smiled as he gestured to some freshly washed red, green, and yellow peppers as well as some ripe tomatoes. Agent 3 nervously crept behind him and plucked the washed vegetables, a knife and a chopping board from the counter next to him and began to dice them, the rocking of the knife hypnotizing their lungs to breathe in sync. They wanted to ask why Big Man was here, why he was being patient with them, why he was caring so much about them, but nothing came out. They bite their tongue as they shame themself for the first question they found the courage to ask.

“What… are we cooking?” Agent 3 murmured with a croaking voice, their duty in the kitchen being the only thing stopping them from running out of their own house and hiding in a dumpster, never to be found again. The feeling of the greens giving out beneath their blade was comforting. Big man stood beside them, unwrapping some fish out of some parchment, and laying it on the counter, the smell filling the air. 

“Ay! Ay. (An old dish my mom used to make. It’s called Manta-Moqueca. She’d make it for me if I got a bad grade on a test, or another kid would mess with me. It would always restart my day, to make it a better one.)” Big Man smiled to himself and began to filet the fish, Agent 3 stealing a glance at the species. It was a long and angular fish, its head chopped clean off. Big man masterfully dodged the pin-bones and avoided the spine. Agent 3 almost got distracted by his technique, but was able to finish the vegetables once they regained their concentration. 

“Ay. (Once you finish that, toss ‘em into the pan with onions on medium heat.)” Big Man begins to cut the fish and Agent 3 begins to watch again, noting his knife work was much different than Shiver’s, being much more firm and confident. Agent 3 turns their attention back to sauteing the vegetables in the oil eventually, tying to avoid Big Man’s amused gaze.

“Ay. (Do you know what fish this is?)” “Mahi-Mahi, they come head-off during the off season.” Big Man nodded and bumped the inkling with pride, the inkling smiling. They weakly pushed the colorful chunks around, their sniffles slowly wafting away with the fragrant smoke. 

Agent 0.5 was fighting for his life as he slinked through the streets, hiding in the tall shadows of buildings and vending machines, and slipping into alleyways as he tried his best to recall the way to the train station. Despite living in Inkling society for quite some time, he couldn’t read for the life of him. Knowing 3 languages and only being able to speak one was expected of him, salmonid vocal chords were different and couldn’t produce some of the prolonged sounds that inkling and octoling depended on. Reading on the other hand? That was completely out of his league. He stared mindlessly at a lit up signs and happened to recognize one, it was the symbol of a box with lots of rectangles and circles on it. He quickly waddled into the direction of the symbol trying to remember the path that Agent 3 always took to get to Alterna. 

“I apologize, I didn’t mean to be so late” An octoling said, her voice quaint and raspy from shouting over the bustle of the Splatlands stole Agent 0.5’s attention. “I was told by your superior I was to meet you near the lobby, no?” 

Agent 0.5 smirked and started to follow the octoling as they traversed the cramped halls of the subway station as he planned his new impromptu plan, if he could get to the lobby he was sure to remember the rest of the way to the backup he desperately needed. As they get in line to get her ticket, Agent 0.5 looks around for a better way to track them and spies a thin, rusting pipe through the forest of legs. Stumbling through, he eventually reaches the pipe and clambers up. He squints around, blocking the light in his eyes as he scours the mass of heads for not only his lead, but an easier way to move around. Agent 0.5 finds a higher sign with a green text and a super-jumping squid and hops onto it causing it to flicker and skew slightly with a crack. He looks around some more and finds a beam running across the roof and rears up to jump onto it. 

As he flies through the air he remembers being within a flyfish machine, soaring through the air and finding places to touch down to fire off. He remembers valiantly serving his community, defeating many of those who stood in front of him and his delivery of golden eggs. He watches as the beam comes closer, closer, and ever closer, however, his calculated jump seemed to be off as he sailed over the beam with a squawk. He frantically searches in front of him in order to find anything to help him and he sees a pop-up stand with a taught cloth hood. Agent 0.5 changes his orientation to hit the cloth with his tail fin in order to give him the push back he needs to hopefully slam into the beam, the bounce from the cloth sending him back to his target, this time sticking the landing. The salmonid looked around to make sure nobody noticed him, but as he looked at the small stand he realized the damage he had caused.

The stand had folded in on itself, spilling most of their products on the floor. They looked like little trinkets and jewels, probably fakes based on what he had seen on Inkling television. The things were scattered around on the concrete, scratches littering the merchandise, what once was priceless was now worth less than a sand dollar. The jelly was getting really angry now, throwing things all over the place. He quickly looked away with wide eyes, he was sure that Agent 3 would forgive him for this misdemeanor. He began to come up with convoluted ways to spin the story in hopes of changing this misdemeanor into a minor accident that wasn’t his fault if you REALLY thought about it. 

Agent 0.5 scales the beams of the station, watching with keen eyes to follow the octoling to her destination. Despite their well spoken nature, they were certainly a little off in demeanor for the Splatlands. She let people walk in front of her, cut in line, even helping other people get to their train first! However, the octoling did eventually find their station, breathing a sigh of relief as they checked their ticket for a fifth time, and got in line. As soon as the doors began to close on the train, Agent 0.5 slipped in between the people and quickly hid beneath the seats, his target still in peripheral. He heard the train pull out of the station, the floor rumbling slightly like a scrapper as the train pulled out from the station. He glanced back properly at the octoling, who was currently staring at the floor with their bag hugged against their chest. Their eyes glazed over, and Agent 0.5 almost reached out to help them before remembering that salmonids were not supposed to be on trains and stayed in the shadows.

The steaming bowl of Manta-Moqueca soothed their reddened nose as Agent 3 inspected the dish in front of them. It’s beautiful tangerine color swirled with oils and seasonings around a beautifully marinated cut of Mahi-Mahi. Big Man sat across from them as he liberally sprinkled plankton onto the surface of the soup, and Agent 3 quietly combined the soup and the soft, steamed rice. The two sat there silently for a while as they ate, Agent 3 smiling as the warmth seeped into their body, and Big Man humming an unfamiliar melody as he ate slowly. It wasn’t a comfortable silence, but a needed silence. A moment to prepare themselves for whatever would come next.

“Ay. (So why were you crying waterfalls?)” Big Man declared and Agent 3’s shoulders slumped, taking another bite of the creamy soup to try to avoid speaking. Their eyes drifted to their hands fiddling in their lap, they didn’t want to admit that they had failed their little buddy, but they deserved it. Smallfry didn’t want to be associated with some depressed pathetic weirdo who couldn’t achieve a minor goal they had 3 months to accomplish, and Agent 3 didn’t want to admit that. 

“It’s my fault. I’ll be fine-” “Ay! (Answer my question, 3, I’m not gonna to listen to you put yourself down!)” Big Man butted in sternly as they began to speak, squinting down at the Inkling. Agent 3 took a breath and tried to think objectively through their hazed thinking. 

“I… was lying on my couch… and Smallfry was with me… but now he… isn't.” Agent 3 said slowly, shame taking over their voice. They felt the fear nip at the back of their nape as the soup in their mouth went from a delicious, creamy soup to nothing more than a burn on their tongue. The manta ray grumbled in concern as he looked around realizing that he hadn’t seen the goblin with a black hole for a gut anywhere since he began to cook. 

“Ay. (Do you know why he left?)” Big man asked as he took another bite out of his dish, the familiar tastes keeping him calm and ready to comfort the younger inkling.  Agent 3 shifted in their seat, readying themselves emotionally to disappoint another person. 

They spent some time trying to spit out what they were trying to say. They wanted to tell Big Man how useless they were. They wanted to tell them that they were almost 19 and still had no idea what they did for fun . They wanted to tell him that their only social support system was Smallfry and the NSS, and now that both of them were leaving them, they had no idea what to do with their life. They started and stopped sentences like an old fax machine, trying their best to breathe between attempts. Eventually, they managed to sum up their hurricane of thoughts into one sentence. “Because he realized that there are inkfish better than me.”

Big Man sighed and shook his head and Agent 3 flinched inwards, trying to find the strength to not start crying in front of the already disappointed idol. He came into their house, cooked a delicious meal, and put up with them for so long, Agent 3 couldn’t burden them with a childish moron crying. 

“Ay? Ay. (Why’re you thinking like that? That feels pretty outta left field for the guy.)” Big man reasons and Agent 3 felt a dam in their throat break. All of their failed attempts, all of their attention on cooking, all of the times that they corralled Smallfry into a bag when they should have let Smallfry run around and explore himself. Agent 3’s throat became hoarse as they became louder and more distressed, they began to pull at the roots of their tentacles and knock their arms around trying to get their breathing under control but their lungs became heavier and heavier.

“Ay! Ay? (Hey, woah! Let’s think a little more logically, yeah?)” Big Man leaned over to offer his fin in comfort. Agent 3 nodded making their vision spin, slowly lowering their hands from their tentacles to the fins in front of them, the surface still warm from the bowl they were holding moments before. Agent 3 was barely able to anchor themselves to the feeling. 

“Ay. (Did Smallfry actually say any of that stuff?)”

“...no”

“Ay. (Did anyone say that to you?)”

“Also…no”

“Ay. (So who is telling you this stuff?)”

“...nobody, but I know they want to!

“Ay! (Well who is they?)”

“Everyone and I know it!”

“Ay! (Hey! I don’t think any of that! Shiver said its bad to put words into another’s mouth!)” The Manta-Ray refuted and Agent 3 gripped onto his fins, how could they have been so rude! If only they weren't so stupid, then they wouldn’t have  insulted Big Man! Who were they to tell Big Man anything anyways?

“Ay… Ay. Ay. (Uh… I mean… I don’t think that at all! I think you are an interesting person who loves to cook and hang out with their friends! You’re the inkling that went all the way through Alterna, and those stages looked really scary at times… I don’t think you lame at all. In fact, you’re super fresh!)” Big Man quickly corrected himself, remembering that he wasn’t dealing with Shiver or Frye. Agent 3 took a shuddered breath before straightening themself up, Big Man sitting back down across from them to give them some space. After a few moments, Agent 3 spoke.

“Thank you, Big Man. I needed that. I’ve been in my own head a lot recently…” Agent 3 trailed off, their lungs still trying to fall back into their natural rhythm. As Agent 3 began to open their mouth to continue, Big Man pointed his spoon at them accusingly.

“Ay! (Careful! Your Moqueca is getting cold. Let's not let our hard work go to waste, yeah?)” Big Man said with a grin. Agent 3 smiled back and properly dug into the dish before them, fully immersing themself into the familiar, rewarding, and comforting feeling of homemade cooking. 

“Arriving at Splatsville Lobby in 2 minutes.” The intercom rang once more, and the sound of bodies pushing and shoving their way up to get ready stirred throughout the train. Some looked like simple jellies just trying to get to work in the many shops around the heart of Splatsville, whilst others seemed to be sight seeing the city of chaos. Other tenants were inkfish donned in turfing gear, their weapons holstered and close to their chest. This made Agent 0.5’s peaceful octoling lead stick out like a sore thumb. He had gotten bored of trying to get a good view out of the windows so he ended up thoroughly studying his ward.

The octoling seemed to have a classic cut that he saw many octarian soldiers wear, reinforced by the posteur and air of the octoling. Though they were friendly and mostly unguarded, they had protected themself from many muggings and suspicious characters by silently moving out of range of them. They reminded Agent 0.5 of The Captain in a way, silent and observant yet with a heart of gold, though they looked more concerned and almost disturbed than the captain. Their clothes were all the more confusing. Unlike many of the inkfish around Splatsville, their attire looked pressed and clean, a business casual as the tv shows would describe it. The most exaggerated thing they had was a golden hair pin that shimmered in their bangs, it resembled a gold plated piece of takoyaki, like the street food he had convinced Agent 3 to get him way too many times. As they stood up, they wiped the dust off of their clothes and grabbed onto the dangling, triangle holds. 

The train screeched to a halt and people started to push and shove out, the octoling looking fairly unbothered as they glanced around the station. Agent 0.5 swiftly lands onto the linoleum in front of the train as the citizens mill in and out of the carriage. He knew that there was a high chance that he would lose his clue within the crowded, loud halls of the Splatsville subway. Thankfully, the first thing the octoling did was walk over to a less crowded area of this terminal and reached into their fairly large tote bag, setting it on the floor once she grabbed their headphones. Agent 0.5 grinned as he sprinted forward, her back was turned trying to connect the headset to the phone, perfect. With a less-than-graceful dive Agent 0.5 hit the back of the bag, slamming into the wall as he did so. Trying to stay quiet, he rubbed his head to check for any external damage, thankfully it was just a bump. Soon enough he was being hoisted up effortlessly and carried out towards the square, he quietly chittered smugly as he recalled Agent 3 complaining that he had become heavier. If a random octoling could carry him with ease then there was clearly no problem.

The octoling’s trip to the deepest part of Splatsville was even longer than their journey through the subway. It seems that the octoling became much more lively and carefree as soon as they saw the scorching sun of Splatsville, ditching the haunted look and demeanor as they basked in the sun. She was darting in and out of shops, holding up clothes in the mirror as they did so looking apprehensively, it was a shame they didn’t choose the Man o’ Wardrobe to go to first, Agent 0.5 would have been able to leave by now! Though they did seem to have an eye for styles outside of rich people's fashion, perhaps he should introduce them to Agent 3!

In order to keep suspicion low, Agent 0.5 ended up having to avoid the hand of the unaware octoling. Sometimes it would be as simple as shuffling around slightly, trying to make his movements as minimal as possible; other times he would have to give them the desired item to minimize their time within the bag. He at least knew what a train pass looked like due to traveling with Agent 3, but when it came to things like a “purse” or a “membership card” he had no clue. He ended up giving them anything he could get his fins on, including things like “lint”. They looked embarrassed as they tossed it out of their hand when he gave them that. 

It was only at the doors of the lobby did he realize he had no plan of getting past the final challenge, inkling guard. He knew that his friends would let him in, but the inkling wouldn’t know that. To the security, he was just another salmonid to turn into Grizzco. Perhaps he could scout the area for more ways in? He had already gone through the metal tunnels once and he could do it again! Perhaps he could get them to open a window in the back of their studio, or maybe jump in front of the glass at the recording booth in order to tell them that he was there? However, he was quickly snapped out of his thoughts as he was pulled out of the bag by the chest, a firm grip being placed on him by a familiar hand. 

“I’ve been carrying around this salmonid the entire time, should I not have? It was awfully heavy, but they have been following me since the train station.” Agent 0.5’s heart dropped. Not only was his plan flawed from the start, but Agent 3 was right about his weight! He looked around, curious to see where he was. Suddenly another hand grabbed him by the tail fin again, he grumbled at the man handling, he liked being held firmly. 

“Smallfry? Where is Agent 3?” A familiar high pitched voice said. He looks eye to eye with the cephalopod and begins to chitter happily. He had no idea how this person got into the studio of Deep Cut, and he never thought he would ever be glad to see Frye again after almost cutting him as they made curry. He wiggled out of Frye’s grasp with a yelp from the inkling, he swiftly grabbed the familiar yellow and orange phone from the nearby table and ran over to Frye.

“You want me to give them a text…?” Frye said picking up the phone, she turned to the octoling who had been awkwardly standing there. “Sorry, uh...”

“You may call me 8, you do know The Captain after all so you may as well know my agent number as well.” Agent 0.5 looks up at the octoling and gawks as the octoling smiles back.

The warm water spreading between their fingers was a solace they didn’t expect to be enjoying. Usually dishes were their least favorite part of cooking, but today was already an off day, so feeling some normalcy was nice. As the gush of water rang through their ears, so too did the sounds of the kettle’s screams.

“So why did you come to my apartment? Was it really just to cook food and make tea?” Agent 3 asked looking over at Big Man who was pouring the two of them some tea. It was a question that they had wanted to ask for a while, but they loved just talking about mundane things over dinner that they forgot to ask. Big Man slid over a small ceramic mug that looked remotely like Smallfry if his eyes were even more disproportionate to his head, one of the two reminders that no, they did not enjoy ceramics.

“Ay. (Other than drinking tea out of strangely designed mugs, I wanted to talk to you about your text.)” Big Man said, drinking tea out of the second reminder they had, which was a classic mug shape with a very deformed handle and Smallfry’s face indented into the side. Agent 3 turned the water off as they placed the final bowl onto the drying rack next to the frying pans and grasped their “mug” with both hands, the faux tailfin jutting into their wrist. 

“Ay? (I thought you liked working with the NSS, did something happen?)” Big Man asked, taking a sip and staring into the Smallfry indent with concern. Agent 3  swirled their tea in the cup, tracking them as they floated in the murky water. 

“I do, I just don’t meet the requirements…” Agent 3 explained, “Remember that meeting I texted Frye about, with The Captain? It turned out to be an interview and I failed one of the sections.”  Agent 3 took a big swig out of their tea as they stuffed their emotions away. “I didn’t have an aspiration, and the deadline is coming up in a  month, maybe less..”

“ Ay? (What is The Captain’s definition of an aspiration?)” Big Man asked and Agent 3  slumped in their chair, pondering the question. The only thing The Captain said was something they wanted to pursue, but what did that mean?  What would they be pursuing exactly?  

The more they thought about it, the more the question began to seem open ended. If pursuit meant chase, how would they chase hobbies? Can a squid chase croquet? Would picking up running be considered a chase, or would that be too literal of an interpretation.

“Ay… Ay! Ay! (You look confused… Then again when I answered Boss Marie I was with the rest of the crew, and you’ve been alone in this.)” Big Man says and Agent 3 readjusts themselves. They drop their shoulders and slam their elbows onto the table as they look at Big Man with child-like excitement, as if they were a paralarva getting ready for story time. The manta-ray chuckled as he began to recall his time with Boss Marie.

“Ay. Ay.  (Well, when Boss Marie asked for our take on the aspiration question, we didn’t have a discussion about it or nothing. We all kinda knew what we wanted in life, to be a team.) Big Man began and Agent 3 hummed, Smallfry and them were a pretty unstoppable duo, but then again Big Man had the whole Anarchy Splatcast gig going for the 3 of them.  

“Ay. (However, Boss Marie also described it as something that calms us down from all of our work in general, or something to constantly move towards. She said that she wanted to get better at reading rooms and body language, and said that her sister wants to try and rank every tentacle care product in the entirety of Inkadia, and after that, the entire planet,)” Big Man continued. “Ay. Ay! Ay! (She did say that we could keep being Deep Cut as our answer, but she wanted us to fully get the question; that she wasn’t asking us as a group, but as individuals. So, I merged the two meanings, Boss Marie’s and mine and I came up with my answer!)”

“ And what was that?” Agent 3 had barely noticed them leaning over the table towards the larger man in their excitement. 

“Ay. (That I aspired to be able to wake up and make music with my best friends Shiver and Frye. No matter how badly a day would treat me, as long as I could sing with my friends, it would be a good day. It’s simple, but I’m a simple guy!)” Big Man concluded and Agent 3 began to ponder again. If hanging out with friends was eligible, could anything be described as an aspiration? 

However, as they thought deeper about it they realized that no, he wasn’t just  hanging out with his friends, he was putting in an explicit action. He wasn’t saying that  just being around them calms him down, but the action of being together in harmony did. However, even with this new found knowledge, they still needed to tie their aspiration to an action, not just a random hobby.

“This helps but, I have no idea what I could even use. I’ve tried everything I could think of.” Agent 3 groaned, taking another sip of their tea, staring at their shadowed reflection in the bottom of the mug. 

“Ay!  (Well then do the opposite, what do you not think about?)” Big Man asked and Agent 3 glared at him, they knew he only wanted to help but what kind of advice was that? How were they supposed to know something they didn't know?

“Ay…! (I meant that in more of a ‘what do you do passively that you didn’t consider could be an aspiration’! Try listing some!)” Big Man explained and Agent 3’s face lightened immediately as they listed their daily chores. 

“It’s a difficult question since every day is so different, but I guess I start with waking up, washing my face, helping Smallfry wake up, cooking some breakfast, researching hobbies until I eventually circle back to looking up some obscure recipe or cooking thing, and then usually I make a simple dinner or try something out I had planned. Afterwards I take a shower, make sure Smallfry isn’t dead, double lock my door, alarm the apartment, make sure the separate window alarms I bought are still running and then go to bed!” Agent 3 explains as they counted their activities on their fingers, Big Man wincing at the many precautions Agent 3 has before going to bed. However, as Agent 3 began to list off more and more things in their life, Big Man grew more and more amused. 

“Ay. (Well it seems pretty obvious to me where you can start.” Big Man chuckles as he stands up to dump out his mostly undrank tea, whenever he saw the indentation of Smallfry as he drank, he suddenly lost the motivation to drink any more. Agent 3 slung an arm over the back of their chair to continue to face him, in shock.

“Wait, what do you mean? How did you figure it out and not me?” Agent 3 complained and Big Man flushed the interior out and let the mug sit in the sink, he could feel Smallfry’s unfeeling eyes stare into his even as he turned from the mug.

“Ay. (Most of what you said during your daily business was literally just to do with cooking.)” Big Man said, and Agent 3 was so stunned at how blunt he was. Whilst it was true that most of their day was spent thinking about cooking, there was no way that The Captain would take cooking as an aspiration. 

“There is no way that would work!” Agent 3 groaned, slumping into their chair again. They heard the clatter of metal against their countertops as Big Man began to pack up his knives that he bought specifically for de-boning the Mahi-Mahi.

“Ay? (And why not? Even if cooking itself can’t be called an aspiration, doesn’t that create its own actions and questions?)” Big Man posed to Agent 3 as he walked towards the door. “Ay. (I’ve got to get going, Boss Marie said that we would be meeting a guest of The Captain’s today, and I’m going to go see them!)”

“You are one philosophical guy, has anyone told you that Big Man?”  Agent 3 asked as they jumped up to close the door behind the manta-ray who was currently bending down to try to fit his large frame into the shorter doorway with an embarrassed smile. 

“Ay! (I actually took that as a minor in college, music theory being my major!)” Big Man says as he finally squeezes out of the frame to a sunset. “Ay! (Anyways, I need to head to the studio before the trains shut off for the night!)”

“Stay safe, and thanks!” Agent 3 called out to their guest as they closed the door, once again being alone in their apartment. However, instead of their state this morning, they were filled with intrigue and new found energy! 

They began to wonder, if cooking itself wasn’t an aspiration where could they take it? They enjoyed cooking a lot, but the learning and the results were their favorites. They loved critiquing their cooking, and learning how to make it better. They watched videos on the train home about the different ways to cook eggs because they wanted to do it themselves. Agent 3 smiled as they thought harder and harder about it, eventually coming up with a specific action, a feeling, a goal. An aspiration even. The only issue was telling The Captain. 

They never thought about how they would tell The Captain about their aspiration, mostly because they thought it would have been a simple text. However, their aspiration filled them with excitement, and even then The Captain might not take them seriously, it was cooking afterall. An everyday occurrence to a regular inkfish, but it was an adventure to Agent 3. 

Agent 3 stared at the text box as they wondered what to text The Captain. How would they word it? How would they explain their sincerity to The Captain? As they re-typed and erased the message, that was when an idea struck them. They would turn this simple message into something enormous, it was truly the only way they could fully explain what they felt. They quickly opened a much larger chat, filled with names that they knew and could depend on and typed out a message before they could properly examine the spectacle of the task at hand.

“I want to host a party at some point! I don’t have all the details worked out yet, mostly because I just decided it! Bring all the members you can, and dress your best! I have something to tell EVERYBODY!”

Agent 3 dropped they phone in surprise, contemplating just passing it off as a joke. However, the smile and excitement radiating from their body told them to stand strong. Even if this was the worst party in the world, they would try their hardest to pull it off. With their fully formed resolve, they added to the previous text.

“Everyone text me what you want me to make!”

The Captain grinned at the text as they looked out of their window at the sunset.  She couldn’t see their face, nor could she hear the voice that would be saying it, but she could tell that Agent 3 was excited for something. With a bittersweet smile, she texts back with an ok symbol before calling her new arrival.

“Hello Captain?”

“Hey 8, it looks like the person I wanted you to see didn’t disappoint. I’ve got somebody I want to introduce you to, I’m sure they’ll help. Oh, and text 4 for me, she still hasn’t unblocked me.”

“Under what guise?”

“I made fun of her for liking Moray Towers”

“Ah… of course.”