Ayla stared out at the ocean waves lapping against the Manta Maria's pier. The sailboat was a lot bigger than she'd imagined—and one of the oldest ships in the city, she'd overheard enough tours to lead one herself at this point—but then again considering she'd lived eighteen years without ever seeing a ship, pretty much anything that floated on water would've been enough to impress the Octoling.

A light but pesky breeze swam through the shrubs and flicked the scout's purple tentacles as it swept by. Ayla raised a hand to straighten her side bangs, gripping her handheld notebook in the other as she repositioned herself on the iron garden bench. Then the notebook was back in her lap, pencil in hand and ready to continue her poem, and…nothing. No words; why was the last line about seaweed again? Since when was that a good a good idea? She twirled her pencil around and rubbed its eraser against the offending text.

Ayla dropped the pencil and looked around for inspiration, her hazel eyes halting on a small fishing boat past the Manta Maria's stern. It had stopped in the middle of the ocean as if its four passengers were waiting for…something; Ayla was horrendously confused on what that could be until a steel-cased submarine sprouted from the water before them. They anchored their vessel and climbed onto the huge sub to greet the blue-ringed silhouette standing on the conning tower, leaving Ayla's brain racing to process.

…There were ships that floated underwater too? Holy carp, that was the first time she'd seen something like that. Ayla blinked the surprise out of her eyes, then went back to scanning through the vibrant hues of lush greens, crystal clear blues, and pure whites in front of her. The refugee definitely hated her new life in Inkopolis when it came to making ends meet, but the scenery was…

…Incredible.

Holy carp, the view in front of her was almost worth the baggage. Octo Canyon had offered only dim skies, suspiciously purple waters, and one big giant wall—which Ayla could confirm was excruciatingly boring after twenty minutes of guard duty. And that was the luxurious outdoors; the majority of Ayla's eighteen-year stay was spent inside kettles with cramped clay pots for buildings, stalactites that Ayla was sure would fall any second, and a pixelated sun on a dome of monitors for a sky. Not to mention that every Octoling had to wear their eyewear at all times so everything was green until the government finally upgraded the goggles to shades. Then everything was just depressingly dark.

But this? The cement underneath her feet was the whitest cement Ayla had ever seen. It was one thing to stare at a beach on a screen, but it was another entirely to inhale its salty air, hear its clear blue waves roar against the earth, feel its wind tousle through skin…it just couldn't compare. Ayla would often find herself in public spaces whenever she needed to get away, and not a single color of Manta Maria's quadrant had lost its zest after an entire year.

A buzz from her pocket made the Octoling pull her shellphone out and give it a tap to wake the screen. A text from the name in Cephalon HQ had come through:

"How many times do I have to tell you?! WE. DON'T. WANT. YOUR. MONEY. We've got his back, and I'm sure he'd rather deal with this squit himself than accept help from a traitor like YOU. Go back to your cowardly little hidey-hole and let his real friends handle his expenses."

…Almost. The scenery was almost worth the baggage.

Ayla pursed her lips and stowed the shellphone back into her pocket. She and her twin brother were very close, so his friends were her friends. And while she was grateful that they banded together to take care of things when he fell ill, the fact they now detested her stung something fierce. And she seriously doubted they had the funds, so the costs of moving to Cephalon for full-powered medical care plus the procedures themselves was undoubtedly more than a band of friends could handle. Ayla herself absolutely would've stayed in the Canyon if she'd known he was sick, but his symptoms didn't show until long after she'd already left. Now she was stuck far from home when her brother needed her most.

And to make matters worse, Ayla couldn't help but feel like her absence was a detriment to his care. The Octarian government obviously didn't like soldiers defecting to the enemy's side and instated major repercussions if anyone tried to desert. Those punishments extended to the now-traitor's family, so maybe her brother wouldn't have been waitlisted if Ayla hadn't fled. And that meant she felt responsible. And that meant she felt obligated to help. And that meant taking unhealthily long shifts and sending the majority of her salary just to be constantly called a traitor by ghosts of her past life.

Beautiful beaches weren't worth that kind of pain.

"Hey!" Ayla looked up to find Gavin and Quinn jogging up to her bench. "There you are, we've been looking all over for you."

"You have?" The Octoling pushed her thoughts away as she stashed her notebook into her pocket, turning a quizzical gaze back to the agent. "Why?"

"Remember what our superior said yesterday?" Gavin stuffed his hands into the pockets of his Octarian Forge Jacket. "We're supposed to be keeping an eye on you, so we had a mini heart attack when we stopped by your room—and then your cafe—and you weren't there. I'm a little surprised; Four mentioned you're almost always in one of those two spots, did you take a day off or something?"

Ayla confirmed with a nod, turning her gaze to her hands in her lap. "I, ah, needed a break after yesterday. And my room has been a little…scary." The ex-scout could tell her mind hadn't restored her hotel room to the same security it had before the incident—after all a serial killer murdered her next-door neighbor and could very well be coming for her next—so Ayla understandably hadn't been comfortable spending her day off alone, in a room, less than ten feet away. She felt much better sitting outside the Manta Maria with other witnesses in broad daylight.

"I get that." Quinn replied with a sharp, understanding nod. "Well, there isn't safer company than a couple of NSS agents. And—to make things even more secure—Eight and I have a couple errands to run at the police station that just so happens to be bursting with cops ready to whoop the Lightfisher's hide. How about you tag along with us?"

So Ayla had found herself beside Quinn and Gavin as they stood in front of the city's police station. At first glance the place looked like any other corporate building—square frame, grey walls checkered with office windows, green vines covering the glass wall on the side—of course until the ex-scout glanced up and read the giant letters spelling "INKOPOLIS POLICE DEPARTMENT" on the blue panel above the sliding doors.

"Hey guys!" Ayla's hazel eyes flicked back downwards to find a familiar Officer Esteban waving at them in front of the entrance. "You miss us or something? Why're you all back so soon?"

"Hey, man." Quinn greeted the rookie with a handshake turned shoulder bump. "That detective on-scene yesterday told us Valerie's toxicology would be done by now." The Inkling agent lifted a hand to reposition his tentacle bun before running a finger through his side bangs. "Is he in today?"

"Detective Alex? Yeah he is." Esteban replied with a nod, turning a shoulder to point at the lobby through the glass behind him. "He was in the detention offices last I saw him—through the leftmost hall in the back when you walk in. I'd show you myself but my buddy asked for help with a troublesome detainee." He dropped his hand. "Something about a noise complaint turned physical altercation and her rowdiness isn't helping the crab figure out who did what."

"It's no worries." Quinn offered a thumbs up. "I'm sure we can find the guy." Esteban nodded again and jogged off with a final wave. Gavin led the trio past the sliding doors and through the hallway in the back of the yellow lobby. And sure enough, the white hall deposited them into a room filled with large communal cells and rows of small desks.

"Good morning agents." A tall Inkling pushed his hands off the desk he'd been leaning over, then his green eyes flicked to Ayla. "Ah, and a newcomer as well." He pressed a hand to his chest with a slight bow. "My name is Detective Alex, and I'm here to serve. What brings you to the station today?"

"Yo, 'Lex-o!" Gavin had opened his mouth to respond, but the detainee that had just arrived beat him to the punch. "Wassup? How're the kids?"

Detective Alex slowly straightened himself out and pulled his glasses in the direction of Esteban's detainee, gathering his withering composure. "…Good morning, Miss Pearl."

"Pearl?" Quinn and Gavin both whipped around to face the detainee, who—on closer inspection—was the famous tiny rapper; Ayla never thought she'd run into a celebrity at a police station of all places.

"Apologies for the intrusion." Detective Alex sighed as he pushed his glasses back into place. "She's one of our regulars. We usually find her fleeing whatever rave we've been called to break up."

"Hey!" Pearl jammed a finger at the detective as Esteban led her to the detention cell in the corner. "I'll have you know I would've left you slowpokes in the dust on any other night. But uh…" She burped, patting a hand on her stomach. "Warabi made some good seaweed dumplings."

"Sure." Officer Esteban shrugged as he turned the key in the cell door. "I'll pretend those tiny little legs could outrun a squad car." Pearl's features darkened into a look more ominous than an unnatural eclipse.

"Yo, whassat?" Pearl's crown snapped towards the rookie as she cupped a hand to her ear. "Do I hear a tiny, eensy-weensy peasant tryna step to the Baroness of Bars?" The detention cell shook with a sharp rattle as she gripped the bars and climbed—yes, climbed—above his head. "You better watch yo' beak before 'these little legs' spit a diss track roastin' ya so hard you'll run crying to daddy 'fore I'm even done. Then we'll see who's tiny—once you've curled into a ball in the corner an' I'm counting my brand-new stacks!"

"Esteban, rule number one about handling Miss Pearl;" Detective Alex gave up on his glasses entirely. "Don't try to joke about her height because…that…happens."

"Dang straight!" Pearl dropped from the bars. "Now hurry up and call my ride 'fore I start rapping 'bout how small your family jewels are. To your boss."

Esteban was out of that room faster than anyone could blink, shouting "you tricked me you stupid crab!"

"Why am I always surrounded by celebrities…" Detective Alex let out a sigh, turning back towards the trio. "But I digress—you're here for the late Valerie's toxicology report, correct?"

"Uh, yeah." Quinn scratched at the back of his head with a chuckle. "I should've known you'd be able to guess."

"Being a detective does have its advantages." Detective Alex gave a small smile before opening the drawer in the desk and extracting a thin manila envelope. "However I'm sorry to disappoint; her results are the same as the others."

"Seriously?" Gavin took the folder and opened it up, his red eyes scanning through the text. "It's inconclusive again? What on earth is tripping your scientists up so much?"

"Our forensic team is definitely detecting something." Detective Alex clasped his hands behind his back. "But evidently whatever it is doesn't match anything in our database. Your department may have better luck; perhaps your scientists have a more specialized knowledge that ours don't."

"That's the thing…" Quinn turned to Gavin, pursing his lip. "We have a weapons guy but I don't think he'd know anything forensics wouldn't. I don't think we have the kind of scientist that could advise on this kind of thing."

"…Wait." Gavin's sight had trailed off towards the row of detention cells. "We might."

"I'm sorry detective," Gavin hastily shoved the report back into the envelope. "But could you leave us for a moment?"

"Of course; I'll be in my office proper if you need me." Detective Alex gave a courteous nod and retreated out the back door. Gavin wasted no time in hustling to Pearl's cell.

"Psst, Pearl!" He whispered through the bars. "We need your help with something."

"…Eight?" Pearl turned around from her seat facing the wall. "And Three too? The heck are you idiots doing here?"

"I can explain in a minute." The Octoling waved her query away. "Listen—is Marina free today?"

"Oh, you genius!" Quinn clapped his friend's shoulder. "You're totally right; Marina's Octarian background could mean she knows tons of stuff the cops don't!"

"…Why you askin'?" Pearl raised a defensive eyebrow. "'Cause she 'knows tons of stuff the cops don't?' If you want her to join some sorta new crime ring ya got then I'm gonna fight—"

"Whyyyy am I always dragged into sketchy-looking stuff…" Ayla leaned her head against the wall, but her eyes flew wide open when she noticed three dumbfounded heads staring back at her. Had…she just said that out loud?

"WHO THE CARP ARE YOU?!" Pearl bellowed at the ex-scout, who ran for cover behind Gavin. "She some sorta secret girl of yours, Eight? You better open your beak an' start talking 'fore I smack it open—"

"PEARL!" A turquoise-tipped Octoling barged through the door, barely dressed in a sweatshirt and pajama pants. "What on earth did you do this time?!"

"'RINA!" The rapper shoved her beak through the bars. "I'm innocent! The cops shoved me in here and now our buds are tryna indoctrinate you into their crime ring—"

"Stop calling it a crime ring!" Quinn finally got a chance to speak. "We're trying to stop a serial killer, okay? Ayla's a witness that we're protecting, and we need Off the Hook's help."

"…Oh." Pearl shrugged, her shoulders deflating back into her usual calm swagger. "Well why didn't you say so before?" Gavin's palm hit his forehead.

"I'm so sorry." Marina walked over to the trio. "She can be such a handful sometimes; picking her up from the station is almost a weekly errand." She cocked her head into a curious tilt, tapping a finger on her hip. "But apparently you guys were saying something about needing my help?"

"Y'know what…" Quinn began, glancing around the room that was slowly beginning to fill with other passerby. "Let's talk about this someplace else. The Deepsea Metro isn't far from here; let's meet there."

The appropriately-named Deepsea Metro was…weird, to say the least. Ayla had first assumed deep-sea living would've felt similar to the Canyon kettles—what with the whole below-surface part and all—but she quickly learned that couldn't have been farther from the truth. The entire subway was driven by a tiny little blob named CQ Cumber, which raised a few questions about how exactly he pilots the thing and whether Ayla should trust her life with his ability to see the rails over the control panel; Gavin was a little too quick to answer that she shouldn't trust CQ Cumber with anything even remotely related to her life.

The passenger cars carried occupants ranging from mass blobs to heads straight out of a failed science experiment, including the largest isopod Ayla had ever seen. The others in the group had introduced him as Iso Padre and seemed fairly friendly with the giant pill bug, but Ayla kept her distance. She couldn't tell which part of the isopod was sketchier—the fact he was sitting by himself with a suitcase brimming with Octarian children's toys or that he introduced himself in nothing but riddles—but either way she elected to keep a wide berth as their car sped through gallons upon gallons of dim, empty nothingness. One time the Octoling spotted a tiny submarine speeding in the direction of the Canyon, and every once in a while wisps of intricate colors faded through the open ocean—only to vanish until another responded. No wonder Haikara Walker was so fascinated with the otherworldliness of this place, and no wonder the residents dismissed their queries about a peculiar lightshow; peculiarity seemed an everyday occurrence in the Metro.

"So, let me get this straight." Marina's voice brought Ayla's thoughts back to the present as the DJ lifted a turquoise finger to her chin, finally dressed in her jeans and crop top. "The NSS is working on the Lightfisher case but you have about as many leads as the police do. And there's this toxicology report that's stumped the both of you."

"And hold up, this dude actually manages to kill cephalo's?" Pearl burst to life on the Metro seat to Ayla's right, but the Octoling was too busy trying to comprehend the passenger with 24,839,574,839,348 jellyfish heads to really care. "Do you know how stupidly hard that is?"

"Do you speak from experience?" Gavin raised an eyebrow from Ayla's other side.

"I, uh," Pearl mumbled, crossing her arms and looking away. "…No."

"Pearl's right." Quinn held onto the standing rail between them, only to yelp and tumble into the seat next to Marina once the subway hit a bump. "It is hard to kill somebody around here; squids and octos tend to splat when they're injured enough, but they can't actually die as long as they're within range of a respawn pad."

"Dude." Marina cast a sideways glance at him. "You lasted five minutes standing."

"…Shut up."

"Both Elizabeth and Valerie were in range of respawn pads." Gavin reached into his bag and pulled a manila folder into his lap, sifting through its contents until he found the paper he wanted. "So Elizabeth should've respawned at the Reef and Valerie should've respawned at the top of New Albacore Hotel. But neither victim even splatted at all." Ayla decided there were things in this world beyond understanding and turned her attention to the page on Gavin's lap, preferring to leave the scary murder talk to the profreshionals.

"That's…so weird." Marina's brow furrowed in consternation. "My only guess is that the Lightfisher messed with their body's ability to splat, but that's something you see out of dying cephalopods—not perfectly healthy ones that were shot." A long jumble of letters halted Ayla's reading, and she squinted her eyes to try and make sense of the foreign symbols. Were they supposed to mean "rescuatory failsafe?" "Restrainatory fracture?" What the heck?

"Um…" Ayla whispered to Gavin as she pointed at the super long phrase on the paper in front of him. "What does that say?"

"'Respiratory failure.'" Gavin whispered back. "It basically means they died of suffocation…wait." The Octoling froze, and Ayla could almost hear the gears in his head spinning into overtime. "Wait, you're a genius."

"…I pointed at two words." Ayla blinked back at him. "That I didn't know."

"Guys." Gavin spoke louder, grabbing the paper. "Both autopsy reports state the cause of death was suffocation, not the shot from the weapon. That's gotta be connected to how the Lightfisher got around the respawn pad."

"Suffocation?" Marina furrowed her eyebrows. "How? Why would you even shoot at all?"

"It's about sendin' a MESSAGE!" Pearl punched the seat cushions with a little too much enthusiasm. Ayla scooted away just a tad.

"That's the part that's been so aggravating." The Octoling's eyes flicked back and forth as he scoured each line of text with a frustrated huff. "It's just mysterious, sudden respiratory failure. The toxicology report is supposed to give us a lead—but apparently nobody knows how to figure this out."

"C'mon, it's gotta be easy!" Pearl turned to Marina, tossing a crumpled piece of paper at the Octoling with a proud grin. "Yo, resident brainiac, what's something that could suffocate somebody and stop a respawn at the same time?"

"Hmm…" Marina's fingers were back to her chin, thinking. "If it couldn't have been a mechanical obstruction, then…maybe some sort of chemical agent? But what kind of antagonist would impact not only respiration but multiple autonomic functions in one fell—OH!" The Octoling bolted upright, snapping proud fingers into the air. "A CNS depressant!"

"…The heck did you just say, girl?" Pearl dipped her furrowed eyebrows at the DJ. "I ain't from Planet Nerd." Ayla snuck a silent sigh of relief; the ex-scout was grateful she wasn't the only one who didn't understand.

"Okay, uh, how do I explain this…" Marina settled herself back into her seat. "So you know how your breathing and splatting are both things that you do without thinking, right? That's because your brain can just send some chemicals to tell your lungs to breathe, and then it can move onto other things pretty easily. But if a toxin blocks these signals before they reach the lungs, then the lungs won't breathe. Then the victim suffocates. And because the brain uses chemicals to move practically every organ in the body, it's probably a toxin that blocks both breathing and splatting—which can only happen at the neuronal level."

"…So it's a poison that stops all functions." Gavin ventured. "Including the ones you need to stay alive."

"Basically." Marina swished a hand at the agent. "That's probably a better way to put it. It's a neurotoxin that paralyzes important parts of the body."

Iso Padre's head snapped up to fixate his beady sunglasses onto the DJ.

"Then yeah, that fits the murders." Gavin nodded along. "So the Lightfisher is using this mysterious neurotoxin to kill his victims—which means he has to have access to it. If we can identify the poison and figure out where it comes from, then he should be just a stone's throw away."

Quinn rubbed at his chin as he stared into space. "…Isn't poison a woman's weapon?"

"THE HECK YOU TRYNA SAY, YOU LITTLE SQUIT!?" Pearl flew out of her seat and barreled toward the already fleeing Inkling. "I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT A GIRL CAN REALLY DO!"

"I'MSORRYI'MSORRY!" Quinn reached the back of the Metro's car only to be tackled to the ground by an enraged tiny rapper.

"PEARL!" Marina's shout got the idol's attention, and a shake of her head called Pearl's wrath off. Iso Padre tersely folded his many arms and shoved his gaze back to the suitcase of stuffed Octotroopers.

Gavin rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Marina. "What's the poison called?"

"That…I can't say." Marina replied with a wince. "Sorry—there's a lot of toxins that could fit that bill. I might be more of an engineer than a biochemist, but I'm happy to try and help figure out what it is. I'd just need a detailed breakdown of its physical properties and a chemical structure at the very least."

"Sounds like a job for the detective's forensic team." Gavin nodded. "This piece of squit—" he flicked the paper onto the Metro's floor "—is about as dumbed-down as a third grader's science class. But they're the ones with the actual samples, so I'll see if I can get them to produce something technical for once."

Delta's boots skidded across familiar indigo ink. There––she'd seen it: the telltale glimmer of gold as her opponent tried to sneak through Arowana Mall's main ramp. The enemy team was obviously pushing; assuming the two teammates guarding Delta's spawn would splinter under their three frontliners.

But they hadn't counted on Agent 4's sentry from the side alley, perfectly positioned to flank the enemy's defenseless rear. And they definitely hadn't counted on her boyfriend waiting to tag along.

"Ready?" Delta pressed a finger to her earpiece.

Dylan's tentacle bun slid into view as he poked half his head from the opposing parapet. "Ready."

And just like that—his head was back behind cover as if nothing had happened, making Delta crack an endeared smirk. Dylan often ended up goofy whenever he tried to be secretive—she didn't know if it was her NSS experience or if he was just plain bad at it…but she'd always thought it was adorable.

The member bringing up the opponent's rear passed the central billboard; time to strike.

"Go, go, go!" Delta leapt off her ledge, aiming her Splash-o-matic at the golden shimmer. Three shots of indigo left the player splatted and the Rainmaker surfaced from the green ink, shield already engaged. A quick Burst Bomb was all the attention Delta gave the startled frontliners and she set to work on the Rainmaker's shield.

Flecks of green whizzed past her periphery as the nearby N-Zap began to fire at her, but a single shot from Dylan's Tenta Brella made short work of the player. His canopy deployed moments later––protecting them from the other two opponents as the Rainmaker's shield grew and grew.

The barrier finally popped and a wave of indigo crashed into the last two green players. Delta dove for the Rainmaker, scooping the familiar weapon onto her shoulder and giving its fin a quick flick. A tiny, indigo inkball burped from the Rainmaker's pearl to carve an avenue in the sea of green. Dylan was already ahead of her, firing his Tenta Brella to lengthen the route towards the enemy spawn––and Delta knew what he wanted her to do.

Delta wasted no time in dipping into squid form and swimming up Dylan's path. The couple had made it past the first ramp when the Bamboozler player started taking potshots at the secret agent—but Dylan was quick to distract him while Delta charged another shot. One giant splat later and they sped across the square turf…until two opponents flanked the couple from above.

"Go!" Dylan gently pushed Delta ahead of him. "You bring this match home; I'll take care of these two!" Delta barely had time for an acknowledgement before racing up the final ramp.

The N-Zap player had found her at the top of the final ramp. He raised his toy's sights onto Delta's chest––but he didn't know he was dealing with Agent 4 and her prized Rainmaker. She dodged his line of fire with a forward flip she'd performed waaaay too many times against Octavio, and Delta's scarred palm slammed the fin against the tigerfish's flank. A huge, shimmering ball of ink sailed into the opponent's wide eyes, splatting him in an indigo explosion.

But Delta wasn't done. Her flip had covered just enough ground, held just enough momentum that maybe if she really reached…

…She could land by slamming that Rainmaker into the goalpost, just like she'd driven it into Octavio's face in their final battle.

In fact it had felt so familiar that Agent 4 found herself pushing the fin again—and was even surprised when no ink came out; it wasn't until the whistle that Delta remembered she was in a League match and not a high-stakes NSS mission. She released her grip on the un-modified, un-stolen Rainmaker and stood to watch Judd close the match. The others began to disperse to their respawn pads for the trip back to the Deca Tower, however Delta began to look for Dylan instead—but she didn't find him until she left the opponent's base and saw him returning from their team's respawn pad.

Delta slowed to a stop in front of him. "…Did they get you?"

"Yeah." Dylan brushed his splat off with a shrug. "But don't worry about it. It was what you needed."

Delta leaned in for a kiss. "Thanks. Glad you've got my back."

"Anytime." Dylan smiled back. "Now, all that shooting made me hungry. I say it's food court time."

So they ducked into one of the nearby restaurants and bought lunch—Delta ordered a catfish burger while Dylan got a hot sea dog—and the couple settled at one of the tables near the window to watch Arowana Mall's next match.

"So," Dylan began, dipping one of his fries into the tiny ketchup cup. "I definitely learned something new today; don't give the girlfriend a Rainmaker."

Delta hid a shy smile behind her burger. "…You saw that before you were splatted."

"I don't think I could've missed that even if I was." He chomped on his potato fry, wiping the slippery salt off his fingers with a napkin. "You jumped so high I wouldn't be surprised if somebody could see it from the other side of the stage. Why do you have to be so showy sometimes?"

"Because it's fun." Delta bit into her burger with a smirk. She wasn't lying; her final battle against Octavio might've been stressful, but the thrill of dancing around an enemy's attacks and returning fire with an explosion-launching statue was easily one of the best moments of her life.

"'Because it's fun…'" Dylan echoed with a knowing chuckle. "Well, I now know how to advise Kai on the Rainmaker schedule: don't have them while you're around."

Delta set her burger down in favor of the chips along the side of her plate. "How is his project coming along?"

"Actually, not too bad." Dylan replied with an approving shrug. "With a little more stage equipment, a little more know-how—and Echo's Edge will have its first Ranked Battles pretty soon." He dipped his chin but his green eyes stayed on his girlfriend. "Entering League matches with you helps the know-how quite a bit."

"Well, any time you need a showoff––" Delta flicked his forehead, "––I'm around."

"Ow." Dylan feigned a wince, bringing a hand up to rub at the nonexistent injury. "As you wish, violent-but-beautiful lady."

Delta smirked at the compliment, but a familiar voice bellowed from the loudspeakers outside. The couple looked out the window to find two Turf War teams––one sporting orange and the other purple—gearing up as the announcer finished their introductions.

"…That looks like a Nationals match." Dylan spoke what Delta was wondering. "Wow, I guess it really has been that long. Now other teams get to run the gauntlet."

"You know," Delta glanced down at her plate as she remembered Marie's advice a couple days prior. "Have you ever thought about bringing the team back together and entering in other competitions?"

"I have, once or twice." Dylan turned his attention back to his girlfriend." But I don't think Kai or Addam are interested anymore. And besides," he glanced away. "I don't think it would be good for me anyway."

Delta looked back up, caught entirely off-guard by his answer. "Why's that?"

"All this time away from Entrenched has made me think about a lot of things." Dylan's tone lowered into something more somber. "And watching everybody with their new hobbies has made me realize something. You're here in the city doing your own thing, Addam's all over the country doing his own thing, Kai might be back at home but he's still doing his own thing, but…" His lips pursed into an upset line, looking away. "But what's my own thing?"

Delta set her burger down but said nothing, deciding to let Dylan finish his vent before butting in.

"I mean, what am I doing?" Dylan pulled at the tiny tentacle buds at the back of his neck. "I'm helping Kai keep his squit together––exactly what I've been doing since the two of us have been friends. Everyone's moved onto new phases of their lives but I feel…stuck." He dropped his hand with a sigh. "And I don't like it. I want to find something new where I feel like I can make a difference; rebuilding Entrenched would just push me backwards instead of forward."

"How long have you been feeling like this?" Delta asked, because she honestly had no idea. She'd always thought Dylan was perfectly content with his job as Kai's second-in-command, and she would feel like an especially bad girlfriend if she'd missed something that had been bothering him since their Turf War days.

"A few months, at least." Dylan shrugged as Delta silently breathed a slight sigh of relief. "I haven't talked to Kai about it yet because I don't want to ditch him either, plus I have no idea where I'd even go. Where can I really apply myself and contribute to this world?"

"Hey, don't ask me." Delta held her hands up. "I got my own answer from a tigerfish that I beat half to death with a rock. I have no idea how to answer that question normally."

Dylan burst into laughter. "You're unique, I'll give you that." He finished the last of his sea dog. "But not for nothing, a lot of folks travel to Mount Nantai's summit to reflect on themselves—maybe a hike there would do me some good. I'll just be sure to stay out of tigerfish-occupied caves."

"It's not fun." Delta mumbled back. "Trust me."

Dylan wiped his beak with a small smile. "But that'll have to be some other time—my train's gonna arrive pretty soon so we should get moving. Let me just head to the bathroom first." He stood up and disappeared behind the door labeled "men's," and Delta was busy cleaning up their table when her shellphone buzzed with a new text. She pulled it out to find one from a familiar phone number named "2":

"Meet me in the Cabin tomorrow night—but don't tell anyone and make sure you aren't noticed. We need to talk."

A/N: I swear I'm nice to Ayla later. I swear.

Thank you to everyone who's read and/or reviewed the last chapter! This chapter started off as one that I just wanted to get out of the way so we can move onto other things, but by the end of the revision phase I was genuinely fascinated with all the little intricacies it ended up weaving—and things never came together in the way I'd expected them to. This was an easy example of how you never 100% know your own story until you try to write it.

But I digress! Here are the rants for today:

-I love how absolute chaos ensues whenever Pearl starts talking XD

-For clarification because a lot of people get these confused: being detained is not the same as being arrested. Being detained means being put in a time-out corner while the cops figure out what happened, and being arrested means they've done the figuring out and you're going to jail. So Pearl getting detained doesn't mean she's in trouble per se, it just means the cops want to keep her in one spot until they know what actually happened.

-Detective Alex's comment about celebrities is because he was also the detective in charge of Callie's missing person case during Caught in a Lie. I didn't want to make a new detective and then realized I'd saddled him with two difficult cases involving the idols XD.

-Also shoutout to Moon for noticing the shift in Callie's behavior—I always thought that was a minor detail so I'm pleasantly surprised that's actually noticeable to the reader and not just the person who put it there. Yes, her attitude was intentionally calmer post-Finale but now that she's had a year to recover she's (more or less) back to catapulting off the walls every other second.

-And yes, we've also got the token neuroscience rant! I probably just gave Caught in a Lie people Aftermath flashbacks…Hopefully this one's a lot less in-your-face and a lot easier to understand. Maybe it's a good thing that I scrapped the Octo Expansion rewrite, because I probably would've turned everybody's brain to mush with all of that sciencing XD

And that's enough of that. Y'all remember to drink water.