Work Text:
There's only one reason Pearl's father ever tells her not to enter the demonstration room: either there's a lot of boring business talk going on, or there's something decidedly fucking awesome she's not supposed to touch. Since he and eight other inklings, two jellies, and a crab are in the First Meeting Room sipping champagne and discussing the upcoming seahorse races, there's no reason she shouldn't go investigate.
Sure enough, on the tall table by the projector screen is a weapon's case. Pearl's hands itch. She just graduated from Splattershot Junior to her first roller (too slow), charger (bo-ring), blaster (BOOM, SQUIDDY!), and inkbrush (has potential). Of course, the table is actually too tall for anything useful. To get her hands on the case, Pearl has to jump, grab the edge with her fingers, and hoist herself up like she's dangling off a cliff in that one movie. Booyah. Super fresh. She grabs the case, jumps down, and kneels on the floor to claim her prize.
Double guns. One for each hand. Oh, sa-weet. Pearl picks one up and inspects it: sturdy build. Each one light, but together they've got some heft. There are some cool buttons by the thumb grips, one on each, she's not sure what. Doesn't matter. Now she can finally shoot two people at once. They've even got wrist-straps, so she can't drop them.
Pearl shrugs on the inktank, grabs them, and goes to the center of the room. She can't quite shoot the walls from here, good. Time to aim for the portraits. Let's shoot at Grandpa, walking forward, and Uncle Cod, on the left. Oh, spin around and run towards Aunt Marge, now let's...
Pearl's thumb slips and hits the button, and the weapon shoves her sideways. She lands on her side, on the ground, and, what the fuck?
Pearl picks herself up and tries shooting again, staying still, and pressing the button. Nothing. But when she moves forward and presses it, a blast of ink shoots out of the gun on the side she pressed, shoving her forwards, head over heels, until she lands on her back on the floor.
“Holy squit,” Pearl whispers. She tries it again, and this time almost lands on her feet before pinwheeling sideways. “Holy squit!” That one was louder.
Pearl runs forward and hits the button, tumbling head over heels and back on her feet, and whoops and hits the button again, sending her forward in a roll that goes until she smacks the wall with her butt and both legs and looks straight up as Grandpa's portrait starts to fall.
Oh, squit.
Pearl scrambles back, pushing the button again which propels her both on and off and on her feet again, then towards the door, the guns dangling by their straps around her wrists, just as her father opens the door. “What is going ON here?”
Pearl grabs the guns and presses the button one more time, catapulting her under her father's arm and into the hall as crashes echo from the room.
She loves these things.