2. Escape To The City
Inkers' POV:
Cooler heads. I've always liked this store. Or I would if it weren't for a certain clownfish who can't keep his mouth shut.
"GET OUTTA HERE!" Moe bellows as I step through the automatic doors of the shop.
"Watch it, you overacting sardine," I say, narrowing my green eyes at the fish sitting atop Annie, the inkredibly shy shopkeeper. I then move my gaze to meet hers, reserving a kinder, more gentle look for the young lady with coral-like hair. She blushes slightly and looks at the floor while Moe opens and closes his mouth silently, presumably making rude comments under his breath.
"W-welcome to Cooler Heads," Annie says in her usual shaky tone, straightening her glasses, but still not looking directly at me. "What can I do f-for… um…"
"WHADDA YA WANT, BUB?" Moe demanded, speaking for his owner.
"I was just wondering if you have any of those trucker hats in stock yet?" I say politely, resisting the urge to grab that stupid fish and flush him down the nearest toilet.
"We… We should have some in by tomorrow," Annie says meekly, looking sincerely apologetic. "I'm s-sorry for any… any inconvenience," She looks like she might cry. I walk slowly over and place a hand gingerly on her shoulder.
"Hey," I say softly. "It's okay. I can wait. Thank you for your honesty, Annie."
"FLIRTER ALERT! FLIRTER ALERT!" Moe shouts wildly, yelling loud enough for the Octarians in Octo Valley to hear. I roll my eyes and vacate the premises, but not before giving a warm smile and wave to the young shopkeeper, acting as though that little obnoxious aquarium exhibit on her head isn't trying for all it's worth to embarrass us both. She manages to return my smile very fleetingly and then turns away and begins to rearrange the hats on display. I hear Moe yell, "YOU'LL BE BACK, HOT LIPS!"
I swear I'm going to get that clownfish one of these days. Why couldn't he be more like that clownfish from that movie? That one about finding… something. It was written on a Sunken Scroll we studied in history class. I shrug, pushing all thoughts of loudmouthed marine life aside while I leave Inkopolis Plaza behind, catching the monorail to Blackbelly Skatepark. There are no Turf Wars here today, for they're being held in Saltspray Rig and Urchin Underpass. Thus, Inkling teens like myself are free to go skateboarding. As soon as I move off the station platform, it's straight onto my board and I'm up the nearest half-pipe before you can say 'Escape From The City', and that's exactly what I start to sing joyfully. It's an ancient song recorded on a primitive transmitter that was unearthed by archaeologists a few years back. Once it was translated into Inkese, all the kids were singing it for months. It's not as popular now, but I still like it.
"Follow me. Set me free.
Trust me and we will escape from the city.
I'll make it though, prove it to you... Follow me!
Oh, yeah!"
The beings of old had good taste, even if some of them probably ate… well, us.
"Hey, hot shot!"
I look around at the sound of that familiar voice. In my moment of distraction, my board ploughs roughly into the nearest wall and I'm ejected from it and sent sprawling. I quickly shift into squid form to cushion the landing. I flop around clumsily for a few seconds before returning to human form with a light pop. I grin sheepishly at Squelch, my best friend, as she stands there, her usual toothy grin having faltered to be replaced with worry.
"I'm okay!" I assure her quickly, getting to my feet and picking up my board. She chuckles with relief and flicks one of her bright orange head tentacles over her shoulder.
"Never a dull moment, eh, Inkers?" she asks knowingly.
"Ah, you know me; living life like there's no tomorrow," I declare smugly, doing a perfect ollie with my board and throwing in more singing just to amuse Squelch.
"You're priceless, Inky!" she exclaims, laughing.
"Hey, don't call me that!" I plead, feeling my cheeks redden with embarrassment. That nickname is just so silly. Squelch started calling me that a few years ago and it makes me feel so awkward for some reason. I'm not even sure why. Whenever she calls me Inky, I get embarrassed and she can't stop giggling.
"Definitely priceless!" Squelch declares, cackling mischievously. "Ah, what would I do without you around to give me a good laugh?"
"Well, you've got a mirror, haven't you?" I say cheekily.
"Ooh, you're going to pay for that!" Squelch says, running at me and playfully slugging me in the shoulder. We then both get into a playful scuffle, ending with me pinning her down and letting out a loud belch right in her face.
"Oh, well put, blue tentacles!" she exclaims, giggling madly. "You got more pizza breath to share with me or is that the full extent of-?"
"BURRRP!"
"WHOA! Brush your fangs much?"
"Oh, what's it to you?" I declare teasingly, tickling her under the chin. She laughs and pushes me off of her, getting to her feet and grabbing her board.
"I'm going to skate circles around you!" she cries, a wild, feral look in her eye. I know that look all too well. She's about to get crazy. Crazy awesome, that is.
"Then all you'll achieve is making yourself dizzy!" I insist, leaping onto my own board and hitting the nearest grind rail.
After a whole afternoon of competitive skateboarding - friendly competition, of course - we start to head back to the plaza, looking to grab something to eat before turning in. I love hanging out with Squelch. She says that I make her life fun, but in truth, it is she who makes things awesome for me. We've been best friends since long before we matured. Our respective mothers raised us in the same ink pool. I think it's safe to say that there's scarcely a closer pair of Inklings in the world. Together, we look at life as an adventure.
And yet, as much as I love my life in Inkopolis, I'd like to experience something new, something that hasn't happened to any Inkling boy before. I want to make a difference.
But above all, I want to have fun, and I want to share that fun with people who need it most. It's just who I am.
I'm a kid. I'm a squid.
And I'm alive.
Violet's POV:
I can hear voices. Nearby voices. I need to be cautious. I can't afford to get noticed. Not here. Not now.
I'm standing below the sewer hatch that leads up into Inkopolis, the home of my natural enemy: Inklings. I'm playing a dangerous game being here, but it's too late to back out now. My stomach's still rumbling, and the sensation's starting to hurt. I will surely perish if I don't find food soon.
I lift the hatch slightly, peeking out at the streets of Inkopolis. This area's not very crowded. The full moon is rising over the city and neon lights are starting to switch on all over the place. This plaza-like area is almost devoid of life, save for a couple of Inklings walking by. They don't appear to be armed, but I'm not taking any chances. These fiends can be as crafty as they are lucky. I need to choose my moment carefully.
Running a hand through my tentacles, I brace myself, backing up a bit. It's time to see if my training has paid off. I look down at my black boots, barely visible in the minimal light flowing down into the sewer. These boots are part of the standard uniform of an Octarian warrior trained in Turf War combat. Together with my armour and goggles, they offer light movement, night vision, moderate protection and are ideal for stealth. I listen intently to make sure no one is passing by directly above. Taking a deep breath - an action that I instantly regret as the stench of raw Inkling sewage swamps my sinuses - I run forward and unleash a flying kick upward.
The hatch goes flying straight up and I instantly leap out after it, front-flipping through the air to land on the sidewalk in a fighting stance, gun strapped to the canister on my back. The grate lands neatly back where it belongs behind me and, satisfied that I wasn't seen, I run, slipping in and out of the shadows, the dark colouring of my uniform helping me to blend in with the darkness. I take care to never falter for a moment in the light lest I meet a sticky end should someone raise the alarm. I slink along the front of the display window of a recording studio, crouching behind a mailbox as an old Inkling man with a beard and beady eyes shuffles past slowly, leaning precariously on a walking stick that looks like he carved it himself. I recognise him as Cuttlefish. I scowl, wishing that I could ink the old fool into next week. I continue onward, slipping into a back alley, finding a pair of large containers with glass windows on the front. They are full of packaged foods and beverages. I allow a smug grin to slip across my face. I can take what I need, slip away quietly and no one will ever know I was here.
I browse the buttons that line the glass barrier that stands between me and my rudimentary dinner, furrowing my brow in puzzlement. I lift my goggles up to gaze at them with my own pink eyes. Reading the inscriptions, I realise that these machines require payment to access their contents. Drat! I lack currency, for it is not a necessity on the field of battle. Frustration getting the better of me, I grab one of the food dispensers and start shaking it wildly, hoping that some of its contents might spill out.
"Hey, easy, small fry!" a voice calls. I gasp and whirl around, drawing my firearm to aim it at a teenager with the most bizarre head coral I have ever seen. It looks as though it was doused in purple ink and struck by lightning. The boy connected to it is no different; strange as can be, surrounded by a pile of Super Sea Snails. I'd wager that he actually lives in this alleyway.
"Get back!" I bark, ready to fire at the spot right between his eyes. He seems unfazed by the weapon as he gets to his feet, one of those disgusting Sea Snails in his right hand.
"Don't point that thing at me, sister," he exclaims disapprovingly. "No sense being edgy and uptight just 'cause you're a little hungry. Here," he continues, producing a coin from the pocket of his tattered clothes and inserting it into the machine. "It's on me." I watch as he pushes one of the buttons so that a packet of salted sea cucumbers drops into the retrieval chute. "Don't say I never did anything for you."
This Inkling is clearly out of his mind. He probably hasn't even noticed that I'm an Octoling. Whatever he does with those Sea Snails, it must be affecting his common sense. I snatch the packaged snack out of the machine and back away slowly, never moving my gun away from his direction.
"You never saw me," I say warningly.
"Whatever," the Inkling hermit mutters, going back to his pile of Sea Snails. The instant he sits down, he falls asleep. Definitely not all there, but he could still be dangerous. I retrace my steps to the sewer hatch…
…In time to see Cuttlefish climb down into the drain, closing the hatch behind him and locking it. I stare at it, mortified. I'm trapped in enemy territory! Ugh! I let out a frustrated groan. Honestly, what else could go wrong?
"Hey, are you alright over there?"
I spin around to see someone approaching me. It's someone with white hair, wearing a somewhat extravagant outfit.
I stare at her.
She stares at me.
I raise my gun.
She bolts, shouting her head off. "OCTARIANS! THERE'S AN OCTARIAN IN BOOYAH BASE!"
And just like that, everything is falling apart. Shouts begat shouts. Panic begats panic. And I'm standing there in the midst of it all. I can see Inklings running away from me on all sides, but I know it's only a matter of time before they come running towards me, heavily armed. And sure enough, I can see a blue tentacled Inkling boy nearby, calm and collected amongst the panicking citizens, raising one of those Inkling-made Charger weapons. I'm about to be inked into next week. I can't stand up to that kind of firepower. He's too far away and my weapon has limited range whereas he can easily blast me without moving an inch. I do the only thing I can do.
I throw up my arms. That's right; I'm surrendering, not that I think it'll make a difference. These Inklings won't show me any mercy. They didn't show any mercy for DJ Octavio. They-
Wait a minute.
DJ Octavio is... still alive.
The Inklings didn't finish him off when they easily could have.
So what does that mean?
The Inkling boy stares at me, looking alert, but also curious. He seems surprised about something.
He stares at me.
I stare into his green eyes.
An Inkling girl with orange head tentacles runs up beside him, tugging at his arm gently. He turns to face her. She looks at him imploringly before glancing at me. He nods, lowering his weapon and the two hurry away. For a moment, I'm left in disbelief.
He had me right in his crosshair, but he didn't go for the kill.
And I've been taught that an Inkling will always, always go for the kill.
I don't have time to dwell on it, however. Someone in the panicked crowd cries, "There it is! Get it!" and points at me. I take that as my cue to run, fleeing into the city, fleeing deeper into enemy territory.
Fleeing into the future, and who can say what it will hold?
