At a bridge, over the spiraling Octo Drop, an explosion. Grand lights flashing as the bridge sways before breaking into thousands of pieces under the pressure, newly unable to support its weight.
The bridges inhabitants yell as they are dropped, supportless, into the ravine below. Two of them, best friends, reach out for one another, but miss.
Bright lights rush by. Falling, falling, and gaining velocity. They tumble without hope deeper and deeper, feeling as if it will never stop - barely able to make out anything, or anyone, as they go.
She sees the ground. It grows closer.
Splat.
….
A large pile of rubble amidst the ruins of a deep, lost city is perturbed as an arm reaches out of it. The arm pulls its owner out, a heavily battered Inkling with long, green hair, a pierced nose, and perhaps most importantly, countless scars over her body.
This is Agent Three of the Squidbeak Splatoon.
As she removes herself slowly from the carnage, deep green ink pours from her wounds. She clutches at them meekly, using all her remaining strength to try and keep the ink in. She is certainly safe - ink loss is rarely fatal unless large amounts are lost, and she can recover eventually - but she feels better masking her wounds.
Agent Three is understandably befuddled by her surroundings. Her vicinity resembles neither that of a normal Inkling or Octarian city; rather, it looks just like a human settlement. Of course, she is well read on the history of humanity, as were her friends. The incidents back in the Deepsea Monorail left them all curious about the creators of the station. Still, to see actual, mostly surviving human ruins is unheard of.
She is not entirely able to appreciate this, however; her wounds are a much more pressing issue. They would likely take several days to recover, and Agent Three was not known for being particularly patient. She can't take the wait, and begins to slowly crawl down from the pile of rubble, quietly whimpering through her pain
It dawns on her that she truly has no idea where she is. In fact, she has no recollection of anything in the past days at all.
Agent Three begins to peer into the distance, toward what could be described as a horizon, despite being fully subterranean. Small amounts of light peer out from far away, likely artificial. Tilting her head as directly upwards as she could, she is barely able to see a skinny slit of light. Likely, the surface.
She begins to remember, again, back to her experience with the Deepsea Metro, being stranded underground, and having to free Agent Eight and Cap'n Cuttlefish. She wonders if getting back up to the surface this time would be just as hard, or if-
How could she forget?
Agent Eight, her best friend, had been with her. Oh, she remembered now… they had been on a mission, up above the Octo Drop, when they had plummeted. She hated herself. Agent Three hated herself for forgetting Agent Eight. Eight could be anywhere right now, injured or worse… and yet she had waited for hours trying to heal.
She should've started searching for her immediately.
Of course, some deep part of her knows that waiting to heal is safer, that she needed all her strength. But Agent Eight… is so important. Ever since they escaped the Metro, they had been working together, doing missions to try and stop further tragedies. Agent Eight couldn't exactly transition easily into Inkling society, so they had even lived together. How on Earth did she forget about her?
Agent Three rushes away from the rubble towards an opening in the buildings nearby. Her rushing, though, is closer to a walk, having to drag her mangled right leg behind her. Every so often she has to pause to catch her breath and then forces herself to continue.
She doesn't know what she would do if anything happened to Eight. As she pushes herself further, she recalls her last couple of months working with Agent Eight. They were perfect partners - as Agents, of course. They were only friends. Agent Three has to keep reminding herself of that. And Eight was always watching out for her, trying to protect her. Three returns the favor, now and then. So she will push on, even if she has to drag her leg. Even if she is beginning to lose feeling in her left foot.
She would do it, for her.