I'm a bit late to upload, didn't anticipate to be so busy, nor did I expect FF to refuse to upload my file yesterday. It's here now though, so enjoy this one-shot.
Monday. He thought with a grimace as his alarm roused him from his sleep. He sat up, fumbling his phone as he tried to turn the alarm off. As its piercing tone cut out, he sighed, shivering slightly and pulling the covers closer to himself. Monday mornings this late in the year were the worst. But he had a job to do, and he most certainly was going to do it.
His morning routine was simple, and he had gotten to the point where he could probably do it with his eyes closed. He sat on the edge of his bed, sliding his feet into slippers to keep them warm, and pulling his dressing gown onto himself, again for warmth. From there, he went straight to the kitchen, taking from his cupboards bread, a toaster, two eggs and a frying pan. Moments later the pan was heating up, and the two slices of bread were being toasted. In the meantime, he poured himself a glass of chroma gel, touching the surface so that it turned to his naturally orange colouration. Next came the pill, the daily pill he took to help stave off the pain in his throat. He swallowed it with ease, albeit with the assistance of the chroma gel. By the time he had finished the glass, the pan was ready, and he cracked the two eggs into it, waiting for them to be cooked through. The toast popped up, and at the same time, he lifted the eggs from the pan; perfect timing.
Already on the table was his laptop. He opened it as he sat down, navigating to a news site to check the events of the world. He noted that most of the headlines today all shared a similar trend- that the famous idol Callie had finally been found, and was currently recovering at home with her other half, Marie. From what she was recovering was not specified, and Marie had stated that the recovery may take some time. He hummed to himself as he ate, the classic tune of the Calamari Inkantation. He was happy for them, truly- many news outlets and private investigators had attempted to locate Callie when the initial missing persons report came out, all of whom were unsuccessful. Her finder had not been named for their own privacy, nor had the Squid Sisters' current lodging been disclosed- the last thing they needed was paparazzi.
He finished his breakfast at exactly one minute to eight, and at exactly eight, the email came through.
From: 3R Administration To: Marune, Tor
Cc: 3R Management
Mr. Marune,
Your assignment today is as follows:
0900-1000: KD
1000-1100: MT
1100-1200: PM
1200-1300: HBPT
1600-1800: MFF
Please note that during your slot at MFF you will be tutoring new recruit Arin Coran.
3R Administriation
Marune rolled his eyes, groaning to himself. Tutoring meant that he would need his interpreter. He had already clicked "compose" and was typing at a rapid pace.
Dear Val,
My assignment today involves tutoring a recruit at 1600 at MFF, I am going to need you to interpret for me, if you're free.
Thank you,
Tor
Marune sat back, letting out a sigh. When he had taken on the role of a head mechanic at 3R, he knew tutoring was part of the job description. Truth be told, if he had had an alternative, he would have taken it, but the salary was too good to let go, even when he had early starts. His computer beeped again, another email having arrived. It was from Val, and she was confirming that she'd help him later. He smiled with relief, confident he'd be able to complete all of his tasks today. He tidied his plate away, placing it in the small dishwasher he had before showering and dressing. His work clothes would not be considered fresh by any sense of the word- insulated gloves and boots, thick warm trousers, and a parka that could have been fashionable had it not been covered in a high-vis jacket. The weather was icy today, and as such all of his clothes were waterproofed to help stave off the discomfort water brought. He lifted his work backpack, adjusting the straps as it rested on his shoulders before securing the waist strap- the large amount of equipment inside it gave it considerable weight, and he would prefer not to damage his shoulders. Checking himself in the mirror exactly once, ensuring he had not forgotten anything, he nodded to himself and left his apartment, locking the door behind him. The walk to his car was a short one- he was on the ground floor, after all- and moments later he was on his way to the Kelp Dome.
Based on his estimates, he would get there with about ten minutes to spare- he would have to wait for the rotation to end before he could begin his work, but he didn't mind- his job allowed him unique angles from which to watch the last few matches in the rotation. His job as part of 3R- Respawn Repair and Regulation- was to maintain the sensitive respawn pads in each of the arenas. As a chief mechanic, he was given a selection of arenas to work in immediately after they left rotation, and he would perform checks on both pads, ensuring that there were no faults in either of them- a check normally took about ten minutes per pad, and if there were no problems, that was all he needed to do. However, when there were problems, they were often subtle- they would need to be, otherwise they would trigger an emergency stop in the arena. The usual problems were electrical faults which could deliver a shock to anyone using the pad, a problem with the fluid levels in the pad, which could give one team an unfair advantage, or something as simple as the grating being damaged, preventing maximum kick-off speed or posing a cutting risk. All minor problems, all uncomfortable to experience. Major incidents were few and far between- in his seven years of work, Tor had only ever seen two major accidents occur, and a total of three in his life. All three had disturbing results.
The first major accident he had witnessed in his line of work had occurred during an incredibly heated League match. The pads had been under heavy stress all day, with nearly constant use and relatively little fine-tuning- the fault occurred in the quarter-finals. The unfortunate soul in question was in the process of reforming when the pad exploded, lodging several shards of metal in their body, miraculously avoiding any vital organs, but leaving them with severe nerve damage.
The second was during a generic ranked match, and affected two people irreversibly. The two victims had respawned at the same time, and a malfunction led to them becoming conjoined at the shoulder. The match was quickly terminated and 3R summoned, resulting in the pad being replaced completely.
The other incident occurred when Tor was a child, and he was participating in a turf war. In hindsight, he knew he had gotten off lucky, but a malfunction of the pad had caused his vocal chords to dissolve, and as a result he could no longer speak. That had been about the worst day of his life, but after countless hours studying sign language, he could still communicate. While he did have a text-to-speech device, he disliked using it- he had found that people didn't take him seriously when using it, and he assumed it was to do with the fact that it was very monotone and pronounced many words strangely. He personally disliked it because it wasn't his voice. And so he had taken on Val to interpret for him. Even without words, arms, hands and facial expression were all effective ways of portraying emotion.
Tor had arrived outside the Kelp Dome at 08:50, and the sounds of battle were impossible to miss, even from inside his car. Parking up, he slid his backpack on and made his way over to the maintenance entry, already attempting to locate the correct key from the considerable keychain he carried at all times. Upon opening the door, the sounds of battle and the humidity of the dome erupted from within, the stench of the spices growing inside causing his eyes to water. He shook off the initial shock and made his way to a vantage point from which he could watch the battles before the end of rotation. He noticed, with some disappointment, that it was only turf wars happening in the Dome at this time. Despite that, he leant on the railing, keeping an eye on one of the snipers of the blue team.
Check behind you, you're getting flanked, come on, look- hmmm.
A brusher from the green time outflanked the sniper and dispatched him with very little effort. It seemed the rest of the green team were equally skilled, as the majority of the ground was green, giving the blue team very little space to move in. The match quickly ended with a green victory, to no-one's surprise. The next two games that were played out in the Dome were much closer, and Tor reckoned the final match had a couple of percent in it at most. The rotation klaxon sounded, the pads flashing to allow the participants to super jump back to the Inkopolis Square. Once the final battler left, Tor jumped from his vantage point, landing on the grating in front of one of the pads. That was one of the things he hated about the Kelp Dome- elevated spawn pads that were difficult to reach when you had equipment that would almost certainly not survive a super jump. That's why he had a ladder.
Before Tor could begin his work, the pad had to be unlocked. As soon as a map moved out of rotation, the covers that each pad had closed, protecting the fluid inside from vandalism or sabotage. As a maintenance worker, Tor had the keys for the pad, and with some effort prised them open so he could do his job.
He began to drain the first pad, watching as the blue colour leached out of it, leaving the metallic chassis dry and the components accessible. He first checked the pressuriser, reading from the dial and seeing that it was well within acceptable parameters. Next came the fluid purifier- this part ensured any grit or impurities in the respawn pad were removed before they ended up inside someone. Opening its casing, he replaced the filters inside and checked that the sterilising solution was at an appropriate level- again, it was well within the acceptable range and would not need replacing for a while.
The next part was the pigment chamber. Respawn solution did not work like chroma gel; while the latter permanently changed colour to match that of the first ink-based lifeform to touch it, the respawn solution was more complex. Its main distinguishing feature is the fact that its colour can be changed an almost unlimited number of times, as long as the appropriate pigment was used. As well as that, it caused the colour of ink-based lifeforms touching it to change to its colour- perfect for battles and much quicker than one person transferring their colour to everyone else. The downside was that the pigment had to be restocked fairly often.
Tor opened the lid of the container, revealing the four vials within- earlier models of the respawn pad had separate vials for each colour, and such a system was prone to error. When it had been discovered that the same basic colours used in printers could also be used in respawn pads, the old model was phased out in favour of the much simpler and easy-to-replenish Cyan-Yellow-Magenta-Black system. All four were running low. Tor rolled his eyes and opened his backpack, taking four bottles from it along with four pipettes. He quickly refilled each chamber, taking care not to use the wrong pipette in the wrong solution. He stowed his equipment and closed the container, quickly testing the projector and fault alarms before refilling the pad and pulling the protective covers into place and locking them, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from his forehead. He hated the Kelp Dome with a passion: far too humid for his liking.
He made short work of the next pad, working as quickly as he could so he could leave for his next assignment. All evidence of the previous battle had faded, leaving the dome as clean as it could be when considering the sheer number of plants in there. The check up had taken him half an hour. He ensured his equipment was stored correctly before making his way to the exit. Moray Towers were next, and he was certain it would take him longer than the dome due to either cold fingers or the difficulty of working with gloves on.
Tor emerged from the Humpback Pump Track, walking at a steady pace towards his car. He unlocked it, opened the boot and placed his bag inside before sitting behind the steering wheel and and taking a deep breath. The final pad had been a chore- one of the pigment cylinders had ruptured, and it had taken a long time to replace the spawning fluid and pigment chamber. His fingers were sore from the day's work so far, and his empty stomach was gnawing at him. On the upside, he now had three hours to kill before his final assignment, during which he would get lunch and meet up with Val. He already knew what he was going to have- there was a cafe a short walk from the Inkopolis Plaza. The very fact that it was still seeing heavy business despite almost all services being moved to the Square was telling of its quality- in his personal opinion the cakes were to die for.
Having found a free parking spot, he walked into the cafe, wrote his order in the notebook he carried at all times and handed it to the server before sitting down at a free table. A few minutes later, his food was brought out, and he smiled and nodded to the server. Tor had developed quite the taste for the old world, and his occupation enabled him to indulge. Historical digs had found tattered parchments with recipes used by the ancient humans. Many of the meats used were long extinct, but the fruits and vegetables were not, and Tor found Leek and Potato soup much better than the more commonplace fast food. The freshly baked bread was a bonus, as was the cafe's signature cake. He made short work of his lunch and paid before leaving the cafe and checking the current battle rotation. He did not intend to battle, only to watch- battling during an assignment was prohibited, regardless of rank.. Rainmaker was currently active in Musselforge Fitness, so once again he got into his car and set off driving.
The ongoing match when he arrived was between two B-rank teams- it was nothing spectacular, but it was nevertheless enjoyable. It was the later matches that snared his attention, in which S and S+ rank teams battled with a coordination that may have led him to believe the combatants were telepathic had he not spotted their earpieces and microphones. Very often the battle was decided by the opening move, the Rainmaker's first shield breaking and then the match ending about one minute later as it was slammed down on a podium.
Tor was watching one of the final matches when he realised something- one of the girls on the team had been a constant for the past hour or so- and this struck Tor as odd. Normally, upon reaching A+ and higher it was easier to form a squad rather than to go solo, and yet this young woman was absolutely crushing the competition, supporting the Rainmaker carrier with highly accurate Dualie fire. She was subdued a few metres from the podium, but she had done enough- the carrier had scaled it and slammed the Rainmaker down. So engrossed in the game that Tor hadn't noticed Val arrive, the Inkling sneaking up on him and clapping a hand on his shoulder. He flinched, and she burst out laughing.
"Found something good then?" She asked, digging a teasing elbow into his side. He looked away, feeling the tips of his ears begin to burn. "Kidding, kidding. So how's work been so far today?"
Tor turned to face Val- she stood at the same height as him, sky-blue tentacles tied back over a formal suit. Equally-blue eyes met his gaze from behind a silver set of half-frame glasses. He began to sign his answer.
"Mostly good. Only one issue at HB, damaged pigment chambers."
"Good, good. So what do we know about the trainee today?"
"A-r-i-n C-o-r-a-n." Tor hated signing names- he had to do each letter individually. "Octoling, male, nineteen years old. Joined 3R four weeks ago. Does not know sign language."
"Well that's why I'm here. I'm sure he'll be easy to spot if he was to wear all that garb like you do. Does 'Stay Fresh' not mean anything to 3R?"
Her mocking was cut short as Tor threw a high-vis at her. She looked at it with disdain.
"Company regulation." Tor signed, flashing a cocky smirk. Val grimaced as she pulled it on, the orange of the high-vis clashing horribly with her navy suit. She pointed out another figure approaching, also wearing a high-vis. The man matched Arin's description, and Tor waved him over.
"Are you Mr. Marune?" He asked. Arin was just shorter than Tor, well-built, and had the characteristic red tentacles of an Octoling. Tor nodded in affirmation, glanced at Val and started to sign. Val translated for Arin.
"Yes, I'm Tor Marune. I'll be showing you how it's done once rotation ends in…" Val stopped while Tor checked his watch. "Ten minutes. So feel free to grab a snack or something while we wait."
Another match started, and already the Rainmaker's shield had been broken. Arin asked no questions in the meantime- Tor expected he would be asking plenty once they actually got to the pads. Tor turned his attention to the match, watching as it quickly hit a rare stalemate, the Rainmaker actually exploding on its carrier. Tor shook his head.
A klaxon signalled the end of the rotation, and the three of them made their way towards the pads amid the crowd of climbers waiting to use the building. The protective cover was already in place. Tor gestured to it, and Arin did not need Val's translation to understand that he was to open it. Tor watched intently as Arin opened the pad and began to drain the fluid. The Octoling then checked the pigment chamber, topping off the magenta before making to close the chamber. Tor stopped him, and signed his explanation.
"If you top one off, it's better to fill them all up, then they should be used up at about the same time."
"Right."
Arin double-checked the pipette tips before refilling the remaining chambers. Once the chamber was securely shut, Arin checked the pressure gauge, reading off the meter and nodding to himself, glancing at Tor for approval. Tor did nothing, merely watching as the Octoling swallowed nervously before checking the sterilising solution. It was running low. Wasting no time, he took a colourless syringe from the bag, checking that the seal was intact before twisting, hearing the seal break. He then opened the solution's hopper, emptied the syringe into it and closed it quickly, placing the spent syringe into a ziploc bag- boxes were unnecessary as the syringe was not equipped with a needle. Finally, he checked the filters, and found that he did not need to replace them. He began to fill the pad again, and stepped back as he closed the doors.
"It was good." Val translated. "But you should always check the filters before the sterilising solution, otherwise some of the solution is wasted on whatever is in the filter."
"Right."
"Onto the next, you've plenty of time left to impress me."
When six PM finally rolled around, Tor was exhausted. It didn't matter how competent a trainee was, they would always leave Tor mentally spent. He was certain Val felt the same way, as she had to translate his sign language, and the terminology he used often didn't come across correctly.
They had waved as Arin left for his home, and as soon as he was out of earshot Tor had run a hand down his face and groaned.
"Such a long day."
"I don't understand why management are giving you so many trainees. It's not fair for you."
"Or you."
Val snorted as she suppressed a laugh.
"Listen, I don't have a problem with doing this. I have a problem with management telling you to do so many training things. I may send them a letter, you know."
"Don't do that. It'd probably make me look bad."
"Can't do anything about an outside opinion, Tor."
Val laughed. Tor smiled. Val stretched and yawned, running a hand over her head and setting a tentacle behind her ear.
"Well, I've got to go. Maybe you won't have to call me too soon. Seems like so much effort."
"Stay safe."
The next week of work flew by for Tor- very little maintenance required, and one of the other chief mechanics was to train Arin for that week, leaving Tor free to work without having to stop to speak to his trainee. He agreed with Val, the number of times he was called to train someone was far too high for his liking, and he had half a mind to bring it up with the administration. He was certain his complaints would fall on deaf ears, and so he put up with it; a job was a job, after all, and training someone got him an increased rate.
And yet despite that, he still found himself distracted.
The woman from the other day seemed to be appearing everywhere, on maps about to be rotated out or waiting for the map he was working on to be rotated in. It felt like every time he turned around she was there with her pilot goggles, Annaki drive tee and punk whites, tearing a swathe through the battlefield with her dualies- the actual set of dualies varied, but he never saw her without that weapon type. She was incredibly skilled- he had no doubts she would reach S rank, whether she was alone or in a group.
Tor had just finished repairing a spawning pad aboard the Manta Maria when his phone alarm went off, warning him that he had ten minutes before the Maria came into rotation. He gathered his equipment, making sure each component was in place before closing the pad. He sighed, swing his bag onto his back and freezing up as he caught a faint flash of blue in the corner of his eye- the moment he turned it was gone, out of sight behind the mast. Tor thought nothing of it, quickly retreating out of the field of play to watch the match- his next assignment wasn't for another two hours yet. He wasn't surprised to see the same woman he'd been seeing everywhere appear at the green spawn, and Tor's heart froze in his chest when she turned and made eye contact, despite him being hidden away far above the arena. She couldn't possibly have known where to look first time, and yet she hadn't looked elsewhere first, she had simply turned and looked at him. Tor could just about make out the smirk on her face. He quickly ducked out of sight, his heart hammering in his chest. How had she known? He controlled his breathing, consciously slowing it down and his heart followed suit. He could feel the tips of his ears burning. He decided that his next assignment would take two hours to get to and hastily left the ship.
Two days had passed, and Tor had once again had Arin Coran dropped into his rota with very little notice, and once again he had had to panic-text Val to meet him within the hour, once again causing her to wax poetic about how 3R Administration was, as she put it, a heap of shit. It had been a long day, and Tor was glad to be able to stretch and have a sit down once Arin had left. Val had taken a flask from her pocket and was taking a swig from it. Tor stared at her. She glared back, swallowed, and capped the flask.
"What? I don't have to drive home."
"But you do seem to be drinking a lot recently. Are you alright?"
"Work stress. I'll get over it. I plan to switch jobs soon." She held up a hand as Tor brought his up to sign. "Don't bother asking, since I don't know yet."
She stowed the flask and nudged Tor with her shoulder.
"Well I'm going to go, I need my bed. Besides, you seem to have company."
"What do you mean by that?"
Tor turned around, his heart freezing in his chest when he saw the approaching woman. He faced Val with a pleading expression, only to find that she was already walking away.
"You enjoy yourself now!"
Social interaction in real time with an unknown party oh no I can't I have to leave I
He clenched his hands into fists, taking several steadying breaths to slow his racing heart. The tremors in his hands faded, and he neutralised his expression before turning around. He waved. She waved back. He felt sick, and he wanted to run. He was aware that his breathing had slowed drastically, and he wasn't hearing any background noise from the street. He was sure his vision was blurring at the edges too.
Stop.
Tor willed himself to breathe normally, hoping the thin film of sweat on his forehead would go unnoticed.
"You know, a high-vis isn't the best thing if you wanna watch a match without gettin' spotted." She came to a stop within touching distance. Pilot goggles were perched on her forehead, and there was a sliver of skin visible between her Punk Whites and thermals. A weapons case was held in her left hand- no doubt in Tor's mind that it contained a pair of Dualies- and she held her right hand out. He shook it.
"I'm Mattock. You?" She grinned, her drawl stretching the vowels.
He pulled his hands away, signing his name. Her grin faltered slightly and he realised, as he expected, she did not know sign language. He held up a finger, pulling his phone from his pocket and typing in what he wanted to say into the text to speech program.
"Tor. Nice to meet you."
He cringed internally as the obviously fake voice placed the emphasis incorrectly. He was worried by the amount of recognition he saw in her expression.
"Oh! Are you that kid? Dodgy respawn pad? What, it must have been 10 years ago now?"
"You know about me?"
"Of course! Well, people don't know your name, but most people know about you. I was like 15 and just getting into battling when it happened. Put me off for years." She chuckled, the green of her eyes vanishing as she blinked. "Can't imagine what that must have felt like. They only said that you lost your voice, but…. It's more than that, isn't it?"
"I would prefer not to say." The sweat was growing, he could feel it across the small of his back.
"Oh, I'm sorry. First conversation and I'm draggin' up sensitive topics." she scratched the side of her neck nervously. "Sooooooooo, you like watchin' battles?"
"Yes. I stick around where I can between assignments. Fun to watch. Fun to see where people go wrong."
"Oh yeah? An' I suppose you're better?"
Tor forced a smile.
"I like to think so."
"Fine then. Where do I go wrong?"
"You don't support your team very much." Had he had a voice he was sure it would be wavering. "You run ahead to annihilate the enemy, and that leaves an opening for the enemy to flank you and your team."
"It works 80% of the time!"
Tor's smile became genuine, and he snorted in a half-laugh.
"With a team you could easily make S+, I think."
"Don't tempt me. I've seen some of these teams. It ain't exactly sunshine an' rainbows with these big players."
"Pray tell."
"Well, there's been massive hostility between teams and their followers, which gets worse the higher the rank. Bits of superiority complex, or even full-on discrimination. People being total wankers, basically."
"So you don't make a team to avoid all of that?"
"Pretty much."
They lapsed into silence. In the distance, a whistle sounded, signalling the end of a match.
"You sound like you know what you're talkin' about. You'll have to battle me at some point."
"Really now."
"Yeah! Totally! I want to see if your tactics are better than mine since you seem so keen on passing judgement on 'em!"
That is the absolute worst idea do not do it it will be the end of you she'll know you'll lose everything
"When?"
Mattock smirked.
"You free next week? Come on, I'm sure there's someone else who can repair pads next sunday."
Tor opened the timetable on his phone and dragged his finger across the appropriate day, the green blocks on the timetable turning red. A few moments passed before the screen flashed with the word "approved". The blocks vanished- a day off. Instead of talking he just showed Mattock the screen. She grinned.
"Excellent. Fairly sure Walleye will be open then! Alrighty gotta bounce see you bye!"
He held up a hand as she super jumped, watching her arc into the distance. His hand slowly sank back down to his side.
You've done it now you've ruined yourself she will ruin your career and life and
He placed a hand on his forehead, perhaps a tad too quickly to be painless, stopping the that train of thought before it festered.
I suppose I better dig out my weapon.
Tor was stood a few metres from Mattock. Unsurprisingly, she was armed with a set of dualies- they appeared to be Dapple Dualies. Tor cringed internally- he was rusty enough as it was, and he didn't fancy contending with her accelerated dodge rolls. His own weapon was still in its case across his back. Mattock stretched and grinned.
Is she doing that on purpose?
"Good day! So what have you brought to the field?"
"A brush." his text-to-speech droned. Mattock traced circles with her hands.
"Any particular brush?"
"You will see. Fair warning- I'm not the most orthodox battler."
"Oooh, bringing something fresh and spicy to the battlefield? I like it." She leaned forward. "So, respawn pads are on, got some permabeacons here, straight up duels?"
She is definitely doing that on purpose.
He gave a thumbs up. Tor opened his case, lifting his brush and allowing it to fill with ink, the tip filling with orange ink. Mattock's grin faltered slightly.
"That ain't a regulation brush."
The brush tip was that of a standard inkbrush, with the addition of a nozzle down its centre. Just behind that that was a second ink tank, and further down was another trigger.
"It is not. Come at me when you're ready."
"You took the words right out of my-"
She cut her own sentence short and rolled forward twice, swiftly dispatching Tor within a second. He was quite taken aback by such an assault. He soon landed back in the centre of the warehouse, and played the only response that came to mind.
"Rude."
"All fair in war mate."
He gave no quarter in the second round- placing himself in range and giving two swift strikes, sending Mattock floating back to her respawn pad. She landed back with a marginally soured expression.
"Hmm. 1-1. Shall we count in this time?"
Tor nodded.
"Three…. Two…. One…."
Tor tightened his grip and prepared his stance, and he saw Mattock do the same.
"Go!"
Tor swung immediately, sending forth a splash of ink to prevent her from rolling towards him. She darted to his left, and he blocked the incoming barrage the best he could, breaking right and thrusting at her. He felt the brush connect, and he flicked the brush upwards, watching as she exploded and floated away. He healed himself before she returned.
"Three, two, one, go!"
This time, Mattock backed away and spread a wide covering of purple ink. Tor put the tip of the brush to the ground to quickly close in, but quickly lost sight of Mattock as she sank into the ink, moving slowly to avoid detection. As such, he was unable to defend against the attack that came from his right, and he was soon emerging from the spawn pad.
"Don't tell me that's all you've got."
They had been sparring for the best part of an hour now. The score was still even. Both Inklings were breathing heavily.
"Shall... Shall we make this the last round?"
Tor nodded. There was no countdown, and Tor squeezed the trigger on his brush as he swang, sending a much larger wave towards Mattock. She twirled out of the way, firing back in an attempt to pin him down. He merely disappeared into his ink, sneaking up on Mattock from behind. She anticipated his move and fired on him, forcing him to dart left to avoid it. He wasn't quite as spry as he used to be and combined with his exhaustion he took several hits to his leg. He missed his counterattack, and put some distance in by swimming away. Mattock gave him no room, so he decided to throw his sub- a disruptor. Mattock caught the full brunt of the toxin, thoroughly stalling her advance. He followed up with a leg sweep, and he held the tip of his brush just under her chin. She grimaced as her body attempted to expel the disruptor toxin.
"U-u-u-unorthodox fightin sty-yle, huh?" She shuddered as the poison left her. "Shall we call it a draw?"
Tor lowered his brush and held out a hand, hauling Mattock to her feet.
"A disruptor, huh? Thought they weren't fair game anymore."
"They aren't. I only use them in private."
"Cheeky." She checked her watch. "Well, that's me done. I've an hour or so to prepare before more ranked matches."
"Even after all that?"
"No rest for the wicked, mate. I'll see you around!"
She turned away from him, shoving the dualies into a carry case before leaving, leaving Tor alone in the warehouse. He sighed. He still had the rest of the day off. Before he could make his way out of the warehouse, his phone pinged- a text message. It was a notification telling him that his computer had been repaired.
Ah, finally.
He would have to head into the centre of Inkopolis. He dumped his battling gear in his car and drove into the city, mentally reprimanding himself for forgetting how much it cost to park. His digital receipt in hand, he made the short walk to the tech store to collect his machine and was about to walk out when a particular monitor caught his eye. It was on sale, and was far better than his current one.
Hmm… I have done quite a lot of hours this month…"
Two minutes later he was walking out of the store with his computer under one arm and his new monitor under the other. He found himself returning to the store with the monitor when it wouldn't safely fit inside his car with the computer or his battling gear. One brief written conversation with a cashier later and he had arranged for it to be delivered the following day.
The next three weeks passed slowly, and throughout them there was a noticeably increasing chill and a considerable increase in the number of festive lights on display. Tor had had to use de-icer on his windows for the past four days, and the persistent cold was starting to lose its snowy charm. He stuck with his work though- he was having to use more energy for heat after all- and there would be battles happening as usual. Arenas would need de-icing and extra attention would need to be paid to the respawn pads- years of data collection had shown that most faults happened in late winter, where the sheer cold caused dangerous contraction of components. Tor was very thankful for the existence of hand warmers in such months.
Tor was not surprised to see Mattock battling as usual, flipping and dashing across the battlefield with a finesse that was almost unnatural. She had surveyed the maintenance areas of The Reef, and had glanced at Tor before her first match started. He felt like the note saying "wish me luck today!" had been planted specifically for him. He chuckled to himself as he watched her take on a brusher, who swiftly drove her back with a flurry before closing in and attacking again, managing to knock one of Mattock's dualies from her grasp. A metallic glint caught Tor's eye before she was dispatched, the sunlight reflecting from a metallic object on her wrist. He frowned.
That wasn't a watch.
He put it out of mind, sticking around to watch the rest of her match before quietly withdrawing from the arena, hand warmer clutched firmly. He shivered before leaving for his car at just three in the afternoon.
Having finished his assignments for the day, Tor decided that it was finally time to set up his own decorations. Every year, he bought a small pine tree to be outfitted with equally small ornaments. He simply did not have the space or time for a large Squidmas tree, nor did he particularly fancy cleaning up the incidental pine needles. Besides, he was not expecting guests. Next was the food- cooking a Squidmas dinner for one was considerably easier than cooking for a family, but was still a logistical and financial challenge. Birds were in short supply, making the meat more expensive than usual. His budget was well within tolerance despite this. It was the 24th of December, and his plan was to leave it roasting overnight- the easiest method. Everything was in order, he merely needed to wait. He decided against watching the news, as he didn't want anything to sour the festive atmosphere that was no doubt emulated across all of Inkopolis. He settled on a book instead, quickly losing time beside his heater and falling asleep in his chair.
Of all the things Tor expected to be woken by on Squidmas morning, it was not frantic hammering at his door at two in the morning. It was definitely abnormal, and the urgency with which the strikes were landing were putting him on edge. On top of that, he didn't know anyone who would be up at such a ludicrous time on such a cold night, and even fewer who actually knew his address. Frowning, he pulled himself from his chair and crept towards the door, breaking into a dash when he got close enough to recognise the voice from the other side.
"Tor?" It was an unsteady whisper. "Please be in please be in please be in…"
The knocks came in time with the words, and Tor almost ripped the door from its hinges he opened it so fast. The scene on the other side, he could not have prepared for. Mattock was stood outside his apartment, wearing her usual Annaki Drive Tee, with one nauseating addition- the hilt protruding from her right shoulder. Her expression was tearstained and agonised, and even in the dim light Tor could see the purple staining the shirt. He could feel his hands shaking. He could barely see or hear, his heart was beating too fast. He was going into shock.
Tor slapped himself a few times and beckoned for Mattock to enter, closing and bolting the door as soon as she was inside. He didn't want to know if her assailant was still hanging around. He hurried her into the kitchen, feeling a wrench in his heart with each of her heaving gasps. He sat her down and located a pair of scissors, giving her an apologetic gaze and grunt. She simply nodded. He cut her shirt away and rolled it into a ring, pressing it to the flesh around the knife. He took her left hand and guided it to the makeshift dressing, ensuring that she was holding it in place while he fetched tape to secure it. In the few seconds he was turned away, the dressing had almost slipped from her grasp. He pressed it back into place, wincing as she whimpered with pain, and taped the dressing in place. He breathed the word "sorry" to her, less than a whisper thanks to his missing vocal chords. Before he realised what he was doing, he was stood in front of her, signing.
"Who did this to you?"
He was even more surprised when she responded.
"I don't know. Some wanker on my way back through the m-market. Think he lost a bet or s-s-something, tried to put m-me outta com-m-mission."
"You… you can understand sign language?"
"Oh, that!" She forced a grin. "Figured it w-was the least I could do."
Tor barely heard her. His attention was fixed on her now- exposed arms and abdomen. There were a great many scars across her skin, some of them clearly thicker than others. Some of them carried a reddish-orange colour.
"Tor? You th-there?"
He blinked, raising his eyes to meet hers.
"Sorry. Let me move you somewhere more comfortable, now that you're not bleeding."
Her expression was that of confusion. Her sign language was not fluent.
"Sofa."
"Oh, r-right."
He helped her to her feet, ensuring that her shoulder moved as little as possible. He set her down in his armchair, making sure that she leant so that she could sit back without moving the knife. He pulled a chair from the kitchen, one that was not stained with spots of purple.
"Hot drink?"
"Decaf coffee, please."
Tor began boiling water, ducking back into his living room to ask if she took sugar and milk- no sugar. He made himself one while he was at it. He sat down across from Mattock, watching as her fingers struggled to lift the mug. He studied her arms as she drank, tracing the scars there, filling in the blanks of the puzzle. He was mostly certain he was correct, but he wanted to be sure. His drink sat untouched.
"How did you even find me?"
"Oh, w-well…" she turned away from his gaze as best she could. "I may have been peeking over your shoulder when you got that monitor."
I didn't even see her in the shop.
He facepalmed, taking a deep breath before looking up at her again.
"Your arms."
"Figured you'd ask. Unavoidable." Her shock-induced stammer had faded. "Suppose you heard of a respawn accident years ago now? Some poor sod having a pad explode on them? Well that was me. C'mere." She was holding out her left arm. "Feel about halfway up my forearm. Bit further left, there. You feel that? Metal shards. Steel. Some of the iron's leached out and stained me red in places."
"So that's why you wear the long shirt."
"I think I got what you said so I'll go with yeah." Another forced grin. "Maxie Tarrel, the only Inkling with a skeleton."
Her grin faded before Tor's sour expression.
"I mean I go by Mattock."
"Matches play. Digging in."
"Yeah, but I'm fairly sure that it was started as some sick joke about me being partially steel now."
"And your wrists?"
"Specially made brace for some specially modified dualies. Here." She kicked one of her guns over to him. "Try it."
Tor pulled the trigger and was astonished by how sensitive it was, leaving a substantial spray of purple all over his wall. Mattock- or Maxie- giggled.
"Give it ten mins. But yeah, braces to keep 'em in my hands, light triggers so I can shoot. All other weapons are too heavy for the old hands to handle. Nerve damage is a bitch."
"I'm sorry."
"Not your fault. Hell, I figured you out when we first met, you came back wrong, lost your vocal chords. I'll take dodgy hands over no voice any day."
"Can't imagine why."
"Oi!"
Tor laughed- very quietly, as to laugh loudly requires vocal chords- as Maxie laughed at his insult. She winced as her shoulders shook.
"I should phone an ambulance."
"No." She cut in with an unexpected plea. "I don't want to go out there. It'll cost too much. He may still be there."
"Infection."
"You remove it. I trust you."
He anticipated that his next words would not be interpreted, so he opted to write them down.
"I can't do anything to stop the pain while I disinfect and stitch it."
"I can handle it."
Tor sighed and gathered his materials- antiseptic gel, a needle, some thread, a cloth, and the remains of Maxie's shirt. He also brought a number of small dishes. He lay a plastic sheet down and disinfected it, and then disinfected his hands and put disposable gloves normally reserved for metal polishing on. He then helped Maxie lie down on the sheet, rolling up the fabric of the shirt and placing it in her mouth. He then disinfected the skin around the knife, the needle, and the thread. She screamed as the gel burned the raw flesh.
"Ready?"
"Mmm-hmm."
She had screwed her eyes shut and was breathing heavily in anticipation. Tor took a few deep breaths before taking the cloth and using it to pull the knife out by the blade in one swift motion, taking care to avoid touching the hilt. Maxie wailed through her bit, not bothering to suppress her weeping. Tor bore down with his full weight, holding her still as to not disturb the wound further.
Oh God the pain the pain make it stop please the pain
The bleeding was mercifully minimal, and Tor set to work closing the wound, trying not to throw up himself as he pushed the needle in, the laceration closing as he pulled the thread tight.
It hurts Tor it hurts, it hurts…. it….
Her struggles ceased- she had passed out from the pain. He finished the suture, cutting and knotting the thread and dropping the needle into its bowl. Tor retrieved a bandage and dressed the wound again before cleaning the rest of her exposed skin. He took a moment to steady his hands before lifting her up and carrying her to his bed- he would take his armchair once he finished cleaning up the "surgery". He sat with his brush across his knees, and watched.
Maxie "Mattock" Tarrel awoke to three things- the sensation of being in someone else's bed, the burning pain in her shoulder, and the sensation of being curiously less dressed than she recalled being the night before. She bolted upright, using the backboard for support. Across the room, slumped in a chair with a brush, was Tor. Closer to her, on the bedside table, was a bowl of cereal. Painfully aware of her empty stomach, she began to stuff her face, her crunching waking up Tor. She stopped mid-shovel when she met his gaze.
"Afternoon." He signed.
"Hrrmf."
She carried on eating.
"Soooo… how much money did I save?"
"About three-hundred thousand."
"Yikes, I guess I should thank you that it only cost me enough pain to pass out."
"Quiet you."
Maxie finished the bowl and set it aside.
"Have you got any more? I'm starving. Wait, afternoon?"
"It is half past five. Squidmas dinner should be ready."
"Squidmas- oh. You-"
"I will not take no for an answer."
"But what about you?"
"Plenty."
"But-".
He held a finger to his lips and left the room smirking. Maxie rolled her eyes and finished the cereal, listening to the sound of food- hot food- being plated. She hauled herself out of bed, feeling a twinge in her shoulder. She was still in her undergarments, they hadn't changed. Frankly she'd have been more surprised if they had, given she brought no spares with her. Her undershirt had a clear purple tinge to it. She rolled her eyes again- bloodstains were difficult to remove. She padded barefoot to the kitchen, creeping up on Tor. She took the scissors that were on the side and approached Tor from behind. Tor heard a faint rush of air followed by a tearing sound as Maxie cut through his shirt. Before he could turn and push her away, she had dropped to her knees and pulled his trousers down, leaving him standing in his boxers with a burning glow spreading across his indignant face to the tips of his ears.
"What? You've seen me in nothing but my knacks, only fair."
He made to sign a response, but she grabbed his hands- she knew he could easily have broken her grip, and yet he did not. She leaned in towards his face.
"I won't take no for an answer." She whispered.
He pulled his arms up.
"Really now. I thought you asked if I wanted my shirt cutting off."
Maxie burst out laughing again, almost collapsing to the floor. Tor snorted and turned around, kicking his trousers away, continuing to plate their meal. Maxie's arms snaked around his chest, and he could feel her cheek between his shoulder blades.
"Thank you for helping me. And merry Squidmas!"
This is a person who I could spend the rest of my life with.
It was barely audible above the noise in kitchen, but Tor made the effort to make his words audible.
"Mer...ry...squid...mas."