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One Good Alibi
Marie finds a good perch. An Octoling patrols below. “You ready, Agent Two?” Lucky asks over the coms.
Marie nods. “These areas haven't been properly patrolled in months,” she says, aiming her charger away from the octoling as she prepares to remove the hypnoshades. “We need to know why.”
“So we need to question them. Not—”
Marie spins and shoots. The Octoling screams, clutches her face, and stumbles three steps forward.
Right off a cliff.
“Guess we're not questioning that one,” Lucky says.
Marlin's been practicing non-splatting confrontation techniques with Ashti and Lucky for weeks. When the Octoling isn't looking, Marlin inks a single spot and drops into squid. When the Octoling turns, frowns, and moves closer, Marlin surges out of the ink, leaping over the pink ground and shoving their hero shot right in her face. “I need information.”
The Octoling faints. Collapses to the ground, smacking her head hard enough it makes Marlin wince. They stare at her limp form in shock. “Uh... Four?”
“Yeah Three?”
“I think I need an ink-aid kit.”
Alibi's sector is the stupidest, dullest, most out-of-the-way mushroom farm. She hates the smell. Hates the civilians with mud-covered clothes and downcast eyes. Hates her fellow soldiers avoiding her at meals and whispering when she walks by. The hypnoshades are a relief. They keep her from being alone.
But the fantasy function is disabled on patrol. She reaches the end of her route, turns, and starts back. As if the NSS would come to this mudpit. Before command enacts any of the plans she wasn't supposed to overhear. She knows all about the plan to free DJ Octavio, just like she knows Commanding Elite Puffin has Soldier Heron sleeping in her room and that's the real reason Heron's getting all the good patrols, like she knows no one will believe her if she says Elite Salt cornered her after drills yesterday.
Alibi snorts. As if she'd be that careless about aiming her octoshot when she's got a full ink tank!
Running footsteps behind her. Alibi turns and aims in the same motion.
The inkling running towards her stops at the edge of her ink. She's wearing some sort of eye covering and... unarmed? “Great DJ, it's good to be here.”
Alibi keeps her Octoshot aimed, but she can't bring herself to shoot.
“Are you one of the DJ's great soldiers?”
Slowly, Alibi nods. She keeps her octoshot aimed. “Praise the... DJ?”
“I am Octavio's Siren.” She steps forward, onto Alibi's ink, close enough for her to see the Inkling is wearing some form of shade. “It took ages to throw off Agents Two and Four. I have information.”
Information?
Alibi's skin prickles, and she lowers the octoshot slightly. Returning the siren, in her new hypnoshades, will make her a hero. Maybe an Elite. Still, she heard nothing about this. “Those don't look like hypnoshades.”
“They used a new design, to keep the NSS from noticing.”
That makes sense. Maybe she doesn't hear everything.
Alibi lowers her octoshot as the Inkling takes another step forward. She digs in her pocket with one hand. “Forgive me, Siren, but I'll have to radio—”
“May I shake your hand first?” she asks, taking another step and holding her hand out. “I wish to thank you, for believing me.”
Alibi smiles, holds her octoshot in one hand, and grabs the Inkling's in the other, only for the Inkling to pull her forward and wrap both arms around her in a tight hug. Alibi holds still for a moment in pure shock, but as the Inkling squeezes tighter, relaxes into the grip. How long has it been since she got hugged?
Hesitantly, Alibi returns the grip, as much as she can; the Inkling's arms slip lower, trapping Alibi's arms at her sides. Still, after a dozen heartbeats, that's enough. “We should go now.”
The Inkling's grip only tightens. “Yes,” she says. “We should.” And she lifts Alibi off the ground.
Alibi squawks. “What in the—”
“You should hear Four,” she mutters, rubbing her cheek against Alibi's, knocking the hypnoshades askew, then off. “She's been shouting in my ear this whole time, convinced this wasn't gonna work.”
She's been—what?
“Come on,” says the Inkling, hoisting Alibi further in the air; Alibi tries changing forms, then again, but the Inkling keeps a firm grip and all she manages to do is get turned around as she loses her Octoshot. “We need to talk.”