Socket exhaled as he stared out across the gauntlet that was waiting for him. A tradition, they told him. The authentic experience. Sure, there were far easier ways to get into Inkopolis, but this was the route that was bound to give you the best experience. Or so every adult in Socket's life had told him. Nearly all of them had encouraged him to choose on his own, but the way they spoke of it, Socket knew they all wanted him to go the way they had gone.

He had been all too eager to follow in their footsteps, despite the fact that he knew absolutely nothing about what the so-called road to Inkopolis was, or what kind of perils awaited him along the way. All he knew was that it was the freshest way to enter the city as a rookie turf-fighter.

On his fourteenth birthday, as Socket gawked at his new form in the mirror, his parents asked him if he was absolutely sure he wanted to go to Inkopolis. When he told them he was sure, they asked him how he wanted to go. The question was completely open, and Socket was sure if he had said bus, or train, they would have bought him a ticket and helped him packed his bags. But instead, he had said "I want to walk the road to Inkopolis", and the way they smiled made Socket's heart soar. They had never been more proud of him than at that moment. They celebrated his birthday, and told him to get a good night's sleep.

Socket's father had woken him up early in the morning, sat him down in the living room, and told him about the tradition of walking the road. Ages old, the road was originally a military training ground during the Great Turf War. When the war ended, it was turned into an obstacle course for young people interested in turf fighting. As the sport became more popular, and as a result, easier to get into, the obstacle course was abandoned, but never properly closed down. Parents would tell their children of their time at the obstacle course, and they would in turn sneak off to find it. Someone discovered one could jump over the walls of Inkopolis at the end of the course, and thus the tradition of walking the road was born.

Socket's father explained to him that he would have to walk alone, with nothing but the clothes on his back, a shooter, and whatever money he could carry with him. It was a code of conduct, or sorts. A pit had formed in his stomach, but it was far too late to turn back.

His mother gave him her very first shooter; an aged Splattershot Junior, painted lime green with several stars placed around the body. His parents took him out to eat, bought him a new outfit for his new life, and they set off on the two hour drive to the outskirts of Inkopolis.

They dropped him off outside what looked like an abandoned warehouse, gave him enough money to keep himself fed, and after he promised to call as soon as he was able, they wished him luck. Socket pulled on the tank to his shooter, squared his shoulders, and marched towards the large metal door with as much bravery as he could muster. His parents were watching, undoubtedly beaming proudly as he went, and he had no intention of disappointing them.

With all his strength, he had opened the door, and stepped inside. The building was dimly lit by skylights, and absolutely filthy. The door closed behind Socket with a resounding boom, and the finality of it all made him quake in his sneakers. He was suddenly far more apprehensive than before. The knot in his gut returned twofold, and he struggled to keep himself upright. Across the building was a square of light; a door leading outside. Socket just barely kept himself from bursting into tears as he stumbled towards the door. After tripping over his own feet, the floodgates opened, and Socket sobbed into his palms for a solid fifteen minutes before he found he simply couldn't cry anymore.

Wiping the tears away with his shirt, Socket picked himself up off the ground, sniffed, and stepped out into the light. He found himself at the top of a staircase, with five balloons floating in the air. To the right, bolted to the wall was a large, cylindrical tank with a hose attached to it. Scrawled in blue on the face of the tank was the word "ink". Though his eyes stung and his chest was tight, Socket checked his tank for a port that would fit with the hose, and he quickly filled up.

And so, there he stood, a tank full of blue ink, moisture in his eyes, and a very unsure future. Breathing in to steady himself, Socket took careful aim at the nearest balloon and depressed the trigger. It bucked in his grip, spraying blue ink in a wide arc in front of him. Before he knew it, all five of the balloons had popped, leaving even more ink on the concrete. Feeling a little more confident, Socket trotted lightly down the stairs and to the right, where more stairs, and even more balloons were waiting for him. The path laid out was straightforward, and Socket had little trouble following, popping the balloons he encountered as he went. Passing a seemingly useless set of railing, he rounded a corner, and stopped to look through the glass panels that he nearly ran into. It looked like a skatepark. Turning, he gunned down a balloon in his path, and it exploded, showering the area in ink. Enough to swim in…

Socket threw himself forward, changing form midair and landing neatly in his own ink. Swimming forward, he jumped out of his ink, landing heavily in the lower recesses of the skatepark area. There was another handful of balloons scattered about, and Socket busied himself with popping them, swimming to an fro to do so.

With all the balloons gone, Socket made his way over to a ramp on the far side of the park, swimming up it and onto a raised platform. Across a gap floated another balloon, and what looked like the rest of the path. Jumping across in squid form, Socket popped the balloon and traveled to the left, slipping through a chain-link fence. Dropping off a ledge and landing in purple ink that made his feet stick to the ground, Socket gazed up at a giant metal disc that looked like some kind of movie prop.

Grunting in irritation, Socket painted a path through the purple and around the disc, towards an area clear of ink. There was a grated walkway hanging above a stack of wooden crates, and Socket was suddenly reminded of something his parents told him about. Slipping a hand to the bottom of his ink tank, Socket pressed against a triangular protrusion, and it pushed back, dropping a splat bomb into his hand. Tossing it, he stepped back and watched as it exploded, smashing the crates to pieces. Conveniently, it also painted a majority of the wall, and Socket quickly painted himself a path up it. Scaling the wall made muscles Socket didn't know he had stiff, but he made it to the top nonetheless. On the wall to his right was a sign with an arrow pointing up, with "INKOPOLIS" painted in bold beneath it. The thought that he was growing near filled Socket with determination, and despite how tired he suddenly felt, he made a path up the wall and climbed.

At the top was a small, swirling blue pool, and in front of that, was a plastic and metal table, with a glass case sitting atop it. All the tension drained from Socket as he approached, and he gazed into the case. Within it was a large, leather bound book, with "Guestbook" written across the front. It was old, weathered and beaten, but still held together fairly well. Socket was suddenly filled with pride as he set his shooter aside and flipped the latch of the case, opening it. Socket lifted the book, almost reverently, and flipped it open. A pen fell from the cover, and he stooped to picked it up before flipping through the pages.

He spent nearly half an hour looking through it. He didn't recognize most of the names, but eventually, he found what he was looking for. Emma Splotch. Andrew Redston. His parents had both signed the book, but Socket was surprised to find that his mother had signed it first. He had never know that his mother was older than his father; or at least, that's what the signatures implied.

Something caught Socket's attention, past his parents' signatures. Some of the signatures had dark thumbprints beside them, including his father's. After a moment he realized that the prints were in blood. Flipping to the last signed page, Socket scrawled his own name, and after a moment's hesitation, bit his thumb hard enough to draw blood before pressing it to the paper beside his name. He blew on the print until it dried, closed the book, and put it back, using the pen to mark the page. Closing the case and latching it, Socket stepped around the table to the swirling pool.

His parents never told him about the book, but they did talk about these pools. Super jumping. Socket's heart soared, and tears welled in the corners of his eyes.

"I walked the road to Inkopolis…" He said quietly. He had never done anything like this before, and wondered if he ever would again. "I did it. I can do this."

Socket dropped into squid form, and felt pressure build up inside him. Suddenly, he was soaring through the air, flying over buildings and inklings, some of whom stopped to gawk as he passed over them.

He flew for several seconds, before he saw the ground coming up to greet him. Socket panicked, and changed back into a humanoid just before he landed. Instead of landing on his feet, however, he belly-flopped onto the concrete and bounced hard enough to knock the wind from his chest and make his teeth rattle. The weight of the tank on his back was suddenly a massive burden, and he couldn't gather the strength to stand.

"Holy crap, you alright kid?"

Socket could do little but groan in response.

Arms reached beneath Socket and hauled him to his feet. He was in a busy part of the city; there were bodies everywhere, talking, looking through windows, a pair of girls were dancing almost perfectly in-sync, while a nearby boy watched, one hand resting idly on a boombox blaring music. Socket managed to look to his right, at the boy who stood him up. He was tall, with green tentacles and amber eyes.

"You landed hard, man." The boy said, laughing. "You alright?"

Socket groaned, but gave a slow nod. "Maybe. I'm gonna be covered in bruises, and my mouth hurts. But I'm standing, r-right?"

"Great attitude!" The boy replied, grinning. "You know, no one's made an entrance like that for a while. Hey, everyone! Fresh meat!"

The city seemed to go dead as the words echoed from the buildings. People looked away from windows, the two dancers stopped, and the boy at the boombox pressed a button to stop the music. Almost completely at once, the crowd cheered and gathered around Socket and the boy beside him. They grabbed him and lifted him from the ground, shouting things Socket couldn't make out thanks to the sheer volume of the crowd. Socket found himself carried towards the unmistakable, looming shape of Inkopolis Tower, where the crowd deposited him, and pushed him through the doors.

"What's happening?!" Socket called as someone dragged him towards a desk with a peppy-looking clerk.

"Your first turf war, greenie!"

Socket stumbled out of the tower, sore all over and short of breath. His heart was racing, and despite how awful he felt, he felt amazing. His team had won, and even the losing team had congratulated him on winning his first turf war.

The boy who had helped him up, Tommy, stopped beside Socket, took his wrist, and lifted it into the air.

"The new guy won!" Tommy shouted.

The entire plaza stopped and roared congratulations to Socket before going back to what they were doing.

Tommy laughed and slapped Socket on the back. "Well, what're you gonna do now?"

"I gotta call home." Socket replied quickly.

Tommy nodded thoughtfully. "Alright, man. Don't be a stranger; Inkopolis is the friendliest city there is!" And then he disappeared back into the tower.

Socket searched around the plaza and eventually found a pay-phone. He slid one of his hard-earned coins into the slot and dialed his home-phone. Something about using his own money made him feel a lot better about himself.

"Hello?"

"Oh. Uh, h-hey. Mom..?"

"Socket? Honey! It's Socket! How are you? Did you make it?" His mother sounded excited and worried at the same time.

"Yeah, mom." Socket replied. "I made it. Even signed the book, and had my first turf war."

"Oh, did you win?"

"Yeah. It was weird though. Everyone in the plaza stopped what they were doing and carried me off to fight."

"Turf war is serious business, honey. And people want to be helpful when it comes to new squids."

"Right… Well, I-I just wanted to call and say I made it."

"That's wonderful, dear! Your father and I are so proud of you. I won't keep you from your exciting new life, but make sure you call often, okay?"

"Okay."

"I love you, Socket."

Socket felt his cheeks color. "Love you too, mom. Bye."

And the call cut out. Socket hung the phone up and turned around, eyes scanning the plaza. Shaking a few cloudy thoughts from his head, Socket walked to a nearby vending machine, bought himself a soda, and drained it as quickly as he could. With a cold drink in his belly, he felt even better, and decided to sit himself in the shade, near the two dancers, who were back at it. The nearby boombox was manned by the same boy. Socket watched them dance and listened to the music, finding himself caught up in both.

"You gonna say hi, or just stare?"

Socket blinked as he realized the dancers stopped, and were looking at him. The one on the left, with red tentacles and green eyes, watched him expectantly.

"I-I'm sorry." Socket said quickly.

Both dancers laughed. "Don't be. You're the new guy?" Socket nodded. "You like to dance?"

Socket shook his head. "Not really. I-I like to watch, I guess."

"I'll say. Maybe I'll let you buy me lunch when I'm done."

Socket's stomach dropped away but he tried to remain composed. "I think I'd like that."