Splat
Devote yourself to King Octavio, DJ Octavio, leader and ruler of all.
Love him, for he is as a father to every Octarian.
Obey him, for he, above all of us, knows what is best.
Hate the Inklings, for they are our sworn enemies, and King Octavio's in particular.
Splat Inklings at every opportunity.
If you see an opportunity to hurt them, take it.
And in doing so, you shall make King Octavio proud.
Pearl scribbles her autograph in the little girl's book, then hands it to Marina. Marina turns to a clean page and writes, her grip on the pen steady as she curls her signature and hands the book back to the tiny squid. Pearl spent a month working on her signature with her, assuring Marina that everyone famous has to practice a signature, making her practice writing Pearl's name, too, so their partnership would be distinct. She tried to get Marina to put her last name in there, but Marina refused.
Even if this isn't real, some things she needs to keep to herself. Someone'll slip someday, and she'll get out for real. But right now, with the release of their second single and two jobs as opening bands behind them, things are looking up.
Even if she is being described as the 'tall, exotic girl standing next to Pearl.' And people always go for Pearl's autograph first...
"So, which side are you planning on this splatfest?" Pearl asks, leaning back on the bench and glancing at the sky. "Fancy Party or Costume Party?"
"Fancy, definitely," Marina says. She's practically in a costume already; everyone mistakes her for an inkling, and several of them have made comments about her goggles being like a mask. She tells herself it's better this way every time her stomach squirms. "Everyone just looks so elegant and beautiful. I'd like to try wearing clothes like that, just once."
Pearl snorts. "You don't need the clothes to look beautiful, Rina, and you'd get tired of it real fast if you had to deal with my parents. I'm costumes all the way. It's loads of fun when no one knows who you are. You can be anyone."
Marina grins at Pearl, then the first sentence catches up to her. "Wait, did you just call me-"
"Ah, shoot, is it two already?" Pearl groans and hops off the bench. "Go tear up some turf. I've got to deal with obligations." She says 'obligations' like Octolings would say inklings. "I'll catch ya at rehearsal tomorrow. Don't get cooked, k?"
"Stay off the hook, Pearl," Marina replies, and waves as Pearl moves towards the lockers to drop her dualies. Splat battling is more fun with Pearl; no one even tries to splat her with the rapping hyperactive munchkin around. And the roller's fine, sure, but it's nothing like her old octoshot. If only she could have a shield of some sort...
Still, Marina needs the money, and Moray Towers is on rotation. She can just ink on her side and stay away from all the inklings.
Five wins, three losses, and one splat later, Marina is more than ready to be done for the day. She stows her weapons in her locker, shrugs on her coat, and heads for the lobby.
An inkling falls in step beside her. "You're a bit cautious for a roller player, huh?" Marina swallows hard-she hates being approached by inklings after matches-and glances over without thinking. An inkling girl grins at her. She's got on a pink shirt, sunglasses, and a warm pink hat with a star on it that looks so nice Marina kinda wants her own, pink or no. "You're strong, fast; you could've just mown us all over. Splat!"
Marina winces. She should've pretended her headphones kept her from hearing the inkling in the first place. "I don't want to actually hurt anyone," she mutters. There, she said it. Now they'll see she needs harsher treatment to conform, and the hypnoshades will-
"No one wants to really hurt anyone, but splat battles don't really do anything," says the inkling. "It just kinda stings a little. I use roller myself, mostly." Her grin gets wider, and she tilts her head to one side. "It's just so much fun, waving that thing around!"
Marina recognizes this inkling's voice, she realizes. But she can't place the clothes, or... anything else, really. "Were you on the other team?"
"Yeah," she says. "My cousin and I were on opposite sides last splatfest, and I lost. We had a bet. I can only use a charger until the next one."
Marina can't help it: she splutters a laugh as they go out into the street. A chilly wind whips around them, but the morning's rain has stopped. "Really, now."
"Yeah. I had you in my sights a couple times but you never came close enough." The inkling skips a few steps. "It was nicely done, though. Want to get some food? My treat!"
Her treat. Pearl has told her she is stupidly overcautious and ridiculous, but Marina's whole life has been paid for with service, loyalty, and lies. Nothing is free unless it's unwanted, unless it's Pearl. "What's the catch?"
Marina trips. The inkling grabs her arm and pulls; Marina swings over and lands in an alley, rolls like she's been taught, ends on her knees with a charger touching her hypnogoggles. "Just some curiosity," says the inkling holding the hero charger. "We'd love to know what an Octoling is doing in Inkopolis. Care to explain?"
Marina's mouth goes dry as she looks up at the second inkling, in a green t-shirt and hat, a white facemask covering her features. This is it. She's going to be splatted. She knew it was coming; she's been courting it for ages, dancing around it, going on her merry way without contributing.
"I," she stutters out. Tears prick her eyes, and she fights them back. She will not have the domes' last memory of her involve sniveling and begging like a coward.
"You," says the inkling. With a jerk of the charger, she yanks Marina's goggles, jerking her head back, snapping the cord, knocking her headphones off. "You what? Make it good, octoslob."
Octoslob. They're right. "J-just make it quick," she gets out, squeezing her eyes shut.
She holds her breath. Nothing happens; she doesn't even hear anything. Then, "There will be no need to splat you," says the inkling behind her, "if you answer our questions."
A sound escapes Marina. She isn't sure if it's a laugh or a sob. "Like I believe that," she says, opening her eyes. One tear slips down her cheek, and she reaches a hand to wipe it, stops partway through, the charger still close enough to touch. "If an inkling showed up in the domes, and I didn't deal with it? I'd be splatted myself, no hope for respawn, and they'd make it last. But I-I can't go back." She tears her eyes from the weapon to look up at the inkling in green. The inkling's eyes are wide now, not narrowed with hate, but between the hat and the facemask, Marina can't tell anything else. "They'll just make it take longer. So just-get it over with." She tries to laugh. "I'm surprised I made it this long, really."
"Cod," mutters the inkling behind her. Marina closes her eyes, bows her head, and braces herself. "Were you expecting this, 2?"
"I think we need to try a different tact," says the inkling with the charger. Marina holds her breath. This is it. Any moment now...
The silence, the stillness, stretches on around her.
And when Marina finally opens her eyes, both inklings—and her goggles—are gone.
On her hands and knees, mud clinging to her tentacles, Marina cries for the first time since leaving the domes.