Chapter Text
Inkopolis was bright and buzzing with activity like any usual summertime afternoon. Shielding her eyes, an eighteen year old Inkling with shoulder length pink “hair’” trudged out of the Lobby, her Inkbrush slung across her sore shoulders. She was splatted a lot more that round than she was used to. The girl was not aware if it was because she was rusty or if it was just another turf war kicking her butt. It was probably the latter, she hoped, trying to retain a sliver of pride.
One of her teammates with a Dual Squelcher named G.D. patted her on the back with a grin, lime green ink splatters flecked on his body. “You did great out there, Mawi!”
A smile spread on her face. “Heh, let’s hope we can keep it up for tomorrow’s battle,” said the girl with a chuckle. “After not doing a real battle for a month because of the suspension thing I feel rusty.” Mawi was her name. It wasn’t the most common name in the world, but she liked it because it was unique and, like her best friend Rosie says, ‘it’s cute-- but has a bit of a bite.’
“Yeah, bein’ suspended for a month was hard on all of us,” said the boy with a sour glare towards the Pink Team’s sniper, Carter, a boy with a varsity jacket and just as much green ink flecked on his brown skin as GD, who didn’t look guilty at all even though it was him who practically gave the Green Team’s captain a black eye, “but with the Inkbrush Queen leading our team we’ll be back at it in no time.” A blush dusted on her cheeks. She never regarded herself with such a high title.
“Hey, I couldn’t do anything without you or Carter’s sniping ability,” answered the girl, brushing off the compliment. She was the new Captain of the Pink Team and she was still getting used to the whole ordeal. All she was sure about was that practice was at 1 to 4 every other day, excluding weekends.
GD nodded and flinched when Carter bonked him on the head with his blue charger. Carter was excellent at the Squiffer and rarely ever missed a shot. “How about that first battle, huh? In the bag,” stated the boy with a smirk.
“Please remember that we only won by 2%. Judd was practically pitying us.”
“Lighten up Maw, a win is a win in my book. We did great for not doing turf wars for a month. Just take it and be proud.”
She chuckled. “You win, Carter. By the way, where’s Cerene? We have to go get those victory milkshakes.” It was tradition for generations for the Pink Team to get milkshakes after a battle. Cerene is usually the person who’s most excited for that aspect of winning: she’s the best .92 Gal user Mawi’s ever seen, not to mention one of her long time best friends.
GD piped up. “Ce told me that she’ll meet us at the diner, she’s got to drop off some books or something at her place first.”
“Hm. Fair enough.” Cerene built computers in her free time. That was her definition of ‘fun.’ But hey, if it makes her happy, nobody has a right to complain. “Just let me grab a snack first, I’d rather not pay 5 dollars for fries when I can pay 1.50 for chips.”
Leaving the boys to put away their weapons she let out a breath and stretched with her arms behind her head. It was tough, though nice being back in the game. The feeling of her Inkbrush in her hands was a welcome and comforting feeling: it was home. Rummaging in her jacket pocket she pulled out a dollar and fed it in the nearest vending machine. She shifted her weight, debating in her mind what kind of snack she was in the mood for. It wasn’t necessarily a Doritos kind of day or a Pretzels kind of day. Settling on Cheez-Its she pressed the button and the snack bag landed with a clang.
“Pssssst. Psssssssst. Pssssssssst,” hissed a voice causing her to freeze with her Cheez-Its bag in her hand. ‘Please don’t let it be who I think it is,’ she thought to herself. Turning around she saw a familiar face peeking out of the open manhole. Yep. It was who she thought it was.
“Uh, Cap’n Cuttlefish, how’s it going? Is everything okay?” she asked, looking down towards the elderly inkling. It wasn’t that she was unhappy to see him, quite the contrary: it was just that whenever he called her over something was wrong or something had to be done. At least he wasn’t kidnapped this time (that was a story for another day).
He looked sheepish, which was never a good sign. “You might want to come down and see for yourself, Agent 3.” With an air of finality he plopped back into the grated manhole without another word leaving Mawi, who sighed and walked towards her teammates in exasperation.
“So, uh, I’m going to have to take a rain check, okay? Tell Cerene that I’ll text her or something later. And don’t fight over who gets shotgun,” the girl added with a wink. They all knew that this happened every time someone was asked to drive.
“You’re fine with getting home by yourself?” Carter asked with furrowed brows. He was always over concerned with safety.
She nodded, flattered at his genuine concern. “I’ll be fine, mom, trust me.”
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” said Momma Carter as he and GD headed towards the car.
Checking that nobody was watching and suddenly very anxious about what she was getting herself into this time, she slid herself into the manhole and into the sewers, following Cap’n Cuttlefish’s lead.
| | |
Octo Valley looked the same as it always had: cotton clouds highlighting pure blue skies, a breathtaking contrast of the Octopus shaped mountain, and DJ Octavio trapped in a giant snow globe, looking utterly furious at the sight of the Inkling who ruined his life. Mawi smirked and tapped the glass making the Octarian leader flinch. If the snow globe was still there then the problem definitely wasn’t his escape, much to her relief, since fighting him (and winning) twice.
Cap’n Cuttlefish tapped his walking stick on the ground. “Welp, the reason why you’re here, bucko, is that I’m sort of… In a pickle. This morning I was doing my check of all the kettles, you know how it goes, to make sure nothing fishy is about, and I found something off in Area Four.” Pausing, he gestured to the sofa near his shack, which was surprisingly occupied. Her breath caught in her throat as her hand instinctively went to the handle of her Inkbrush, her knuckles pale as her vice-like grip tightened.
“I-Is that, an Octoling? Outside the kettles? Sitting in your chair?” stuttered the girl as she tried processing exactly what she was looking at. It was definitely an Octoling for sure. The humanoid Octarian sat patiently with her legs crossed and twiddled her thumbs. She was this close to splatting the thing right then and there, but something in the Octoling’s demeanor caused her to hesitate. The Octoling wasn’t drawing her weapon or preparing splat bombs like the other bloodthirsty ones that were usually encountered in the kettles. The armor was right, the boots were right, the multiple gaudy orange tentacles were right, though she was missing her mask.
The Octoling’s eyes were hypnotically beautiful. They were the color of acid and were lined with purple and her face was highlighted with soft freckles travelling all the way from her nose and cheeks. A lump was caught in her throat.
“Yes, yes, and yes. I found her outside her kettle, and of course I was going to splat her to Octo-blivion, but her behavior patterns are quite different to that of normal Octolings. She told me that she wants to be good and reintegrate herself into society.” A thick and awkward air hung in Octo Valley as she reluctantly lowered her weapon. There was no way in hell that the Octolings could ever be considered ‘good.’ She has the burn marks on her neck from her work as the Big Bad “Agent 3” and their disgusting purple ink to prove it.
“Is this the girl that you wanted me to hang around with?” asked the Octoling while surveying her up and down with a dissatisfied look. “Her tentacles are not as full as mine are. What a weird Octoling.”
The lump in the girl’s throat suddenly became huge as if she swallowed a jellyfish. No words came to her mouth or her brain. This old man is completely off his rocker, and especially if he expects Inkopolis to bend their rules just because this Octoling is ‘different.’ People will flip if word got out that there was an Octoling outside of the kettles.
“Cap’n, don’t you think that this is a bit, uh… Too progressivefor Inkopolis to handle? They’ll splat her or skin her or cook her if they find out that there’s one living in their city! And for the record,” Mawi leaned close to the Octoling, venom dripping from her words, “I’m not, and will never be one of you pieces of sea scum.”
She furrowed her brow in confusion. “But if you are not an Octoling, then what are you?”
“I’m an Inkling. I change to a squid.”
The Octoling looked like she just stepped in something slimy and had to scrape it off the bottom of her shoe. “That is a bit distasteful, don’t you think? Why be a squid when you could be an octopus?” She smiled a sickly sweet smile which made her fume. “I apologize, but I just don’t see the appeal in your kind.”
The pink Inkling pinched the bridge of her nose in exasperation and looked at Cap’n Cuttlefish for some sort of help, though she didn’t know why she even expected any: he was staring back and forth between the both of them enjoying the juicy drama like this was The Real Housewives of Inkopolis.
“So, what do I have to do? You know that my main job is getting rid of these things.”
The old man shifted his weight and decided how he should give the news, one reason being out of fear for how Agent 3 will react, and the other reason being that he is forcing her to do this and there needs to be a definite sugarcoat.
“I want you to keep Nell as a houseguest and take her around, make sure that she doesn’t get into any shenanigans and all that. I want her to live with you. Her mind is developed enough to have overpowered the brainwashing she was under and I think she’s ready to rejoin society. I want Inkopolis to become whole again. You of all people, Agent 3, should want that too, right?”
“I picked the name out myself. My name is Nell,” piped up the Octoling as she stared at her, waiting for some sort of answer.
She wanted to say no so badly that it physically hurt. “…And if she goes back to a cookie cutter brainwashed Octoling while I’m asleep?”
Nell stood up and was significantly taller than the inkling, thus making her even more intimidated than she already was. “If that happens then I urge you to, quoting this nice man, ‘splat me into octo-blivion.’ I want peace more than any of you. I am very sorry for anything that my kind have done to earn this kind of treatment in your society. All I ask is that you give me a chance to prove it.” The girl glanced towards the burn welts on her neck with sorrow in her being. They all knew that Octarian ink was deadly to the Inklings, whereas enemy Ink used in regular turf wars was only overly sticky.
Being vicious to this girl was solving nothing. At this point she was backed up in a corner. If the authorities found out that she was housing an Octoling there’s no way she’d ever see the light of day. The problem was that Nell was being completely genuine. If she told that spiel to anyone else there was no way they’d treat her any different.
“Treat it as a social experiment, Mawi.”
She held her face in her hands and looked towards the Octoling with utter disgust, to which the Octoling reciprocated. “You’re lucky I have an extra room.”
What did she have to lose besides her life, right?
Nell smiled from ear to ear, fangs poking out in a toothy grin. “Thank you for giving me a chance. Even if you are an Inkling.”
Mawi chose not to decipher whether or not that was a compliment and turned to leave. “Come on, I’ll tell you the house rules along the way. Plus I’ve got a bag to go over your head so you don’t attract… Unwanted attention. Also,” she held up a peace sign, “bye boss!”
The two let themselves out through the manhole, both equally disgusted of each other’s presence, and even more disgusted with the fact that there wasn’t a time limit to this “social experiment.”
Cap’n Cuttlefish returned her peace sign and frowned, turning to DJ Octavio. “My money’s on two days.”