In Rebecca's opinion, securing this Dome had been more trouble than it was worth.
Or, more accurately, all the trouble they went through wasn't worth it.
They had gone through all the effort of bringing an entire platoon, not to mention a Great Octoweapon, only to find the place utterly abandoned. No life whatsoever, no force to fight. There hadn't even been a token response from the Inklings. She half-believed they hadn't even noticed their encroachment.
Instead of an intense battle for a new foothold, it was just her platoon and Octarian fodder to dust off the cobwebs instead.
She would've loved a good fight. It had been too long since she had put her training to use, to get the blood pumping. Back at the canyon, they rarely had the chance to simulate any real fights. Energy was still in short supply, and wasting it on any needless respawning, ones outside of accidents, was in poor taste.
Their skirmishes with the Inklings was the closest she had to the Inkling's so-called "Turf Wars". As much as she might've disliked the Inklings, it did sound like a fun sport. To try to take over as much territory as possible; it appealed to something primal within her. Much more fun than trying to just splat enemies.
Wasn't like these battles even mattered much, seeing as Respawners were in wide use.
Turned everything into such an inconsequential game.
On that thought…
She felt at her waist, feeling for the reassuring little device resting there, its small light a steady green. A brilliant emerald, one that signified she was tethered to their respawner.
No one had been able to breathe easy until they had set up their own respawner, even if it had proven unneeded. Not having to fend off a bunch of Inklings while doing so was nice, she supposed, but now...
It. Was. So. Boring.
She and her sisters in arms had been "patrolling" the dome for the past several hours. Patrolling, in this case, was exploring the decrepit Dome. It wasn't like they had any real guarding to do. The only entrance they had found was a large utility elevator from the surface to the base of the Dome. It made getting a Great Octoweapon down here easy, at least.
But, seeing as they had met no resistance, it was gathering dust.
Suffice to say, the regular Octarians could handle guarding the entrance. That, and they couldn't properly explore the Dome's architecture. Whoever built this particular one was obsessed with stairs.
Feh. She would've preferred guarding the elevator, but no, as an (aspiring) leader, she needed to set the example. Guarding may have been boring, but it would have gotten her out of mapping the place out. This Dome gave her the creeps.
...Did that make her a bad (aspiring) leader?
Eh, maybe.
With how many Octolings had been deserting the past few years, there had to be a problem within the leadership somewhere. Perhaps even at the top levels of their military? Octavio himself?
Common denominators.
But that could be relegated for later. She needed to focus.
She and one of her sisters swept down another hallway, weapons always at the ready. This Dome may have been abandoned, but what could be hidden within? A new technology to add to their hoard? Previously unknown knowledge?
But, the former two could help advance her career, perhaps.
She could see it now. Their scientists praising her for a new discovery, adding to their knowledge, their armory, their collective worth. Finally being recognized by her superiors, getting to-
"Clear." Her comrade said, snapping her back to reality.
She blinked; they were at the end of the hall. Thankfully, her goggles had prevented her sister from realizing she had been daydreaming.
"Right," She replied, re-adjusting the grip on her Octoshot. The hallway itself terminated into a split, a stairway up, and another hallway branching off. This place was a warren.
"Split up?" Her sister suggested, "We can cover more ground that way."
Oh, responsibility!
Rebecca chewed her inner cheek, thinking. Sticking together would be safer, and while she would ordinarily say they do so… but what was the harm? This place had shown no iota of life for hours now, and really, what were the chances that something was living here? The place had been sealed air-tight when they first cracked the Dome entrance open.
Of course, if she did discover something, all the credit would go to her. It would be worth it, even if she had to endure the isolation.
"Yeah, sure."
While her sister went down the new hall, she went up the stairs.
A new level, yet unexplored. Lit up in an eerie fluorescent glow, the slight humming she could barely hear. More wood doors, concrete walls, and steel supports.
Liminality.
She was already beginning to regret her decision to split up.
Em…
She cautiously made her way through, trying each door. Locked each time.
"Totally not creepy…" she muttered under her breath. Unease had already settled in her stomach. Her weapon and armor were paltry reassurance at best.
Still, at least they had new armor. Their old gear had been too revealing. And cold. Even if their new gear reminded her of the armor of the accursed agents, but protection was protection.
And snug, as well as warm. Very nice.
But such small comforts did little to make her feel better. The Dome may have been a blessing, yes, but equally, did it have to be so creepy?
It was so much like the domes back in the Canyon, yet so different all the same. Familiar, yet warped, in a sense.
She kept down the hallways, trying more and more doors, only for more and more locks to greet here. It was starting to become more annoying than off-putting. The balance had yet to tip, though.
Back to the Dome.
For one, it was much smaller, much smaller. The ones back home could house small cities, be as liberating as the outdoors, but this dome could barely hold… she wasn't exact, half a city block? The walkways around the dome were another. And the complex encircling the Dome itself. Levels upon levels of hallways and rooms, many collapsed.
An odd simulacrum, a mockery of their Domes. This place wasn't built for housing populations or military forces. It felt more like… a bunker, of sorts. Maybe? Or… she didn't know. It was all so perplexing.
Though, when she was suddenly floating in the hall, bereft of all her weight, some feelings of home did shine through. She simply fired her Octoshot, the force pushing her out of the space. It left a purple splotch of ink on the floor.
Despite all the differences, the Dome and the area around it still had patches of null gravity. They were common enough back home, but for some to manifest outside the canyon and valley was quite strange. Did this indicate they had something to do with the Domes, rather than the locations?
Maybe? She should pitch the idea to the scientists when they were done here.
More doors, more locks.
Another observation. Like the other domes, they had needed Zapfish to power the place. But, for whatever reason, one Zapfish hadn't been able to do the job. Four were needed. Four. They were lucky enough to have brought an extra, but they still needed to scavenge two more from their UFOs to make up the difference. And all just to turn on the lights, and the din of the archaic life support. It was surreal, plain and simple. Was there more going on behind the scenes?
Another idea to pitch to the scientists.
Well, when she got out of here. Cod, she hoped that was soon. Even with the lights on, the encircling complex was unsettling.
Everything was off. This dome wasn't a city, but then, what? The few spaces they found were intended for living, yet all they missed were the occupants. Liminality.
There was still so much they didn't know about the domes. All she knew was that the Octarians hadn't built them. If High Command knew, they weren't speaking.
If it wasn't Octarian built, did it make them squatters, technically?
But, such questions didn't keep her distracted for long. She had a duty, and she would not tolerate being called a slacker. Her career would not allow it. Even if it meant swallowing the unease she felt. That was the definition of bravery, right? No fear was foolish?
She hoped so. Could be a good line to use for her superiors. Might make her look very commendable.
Mhmm… This whole operation could look very good on her record, if she played her cards right. And with the little resistance they had encountered, she might as well have come across her once in a lifetime chance for recognition.
She moved from door to door, trying the handles of each. Still a boring task, seeing as each one so far was locked.
And thankfully, her unease appeared to be unearned. More locked doors, more levels, more halls, but still no life. They'd have to get the doors opened later, but for a first sweep, everything was going well.
Almost too well. Seeing as they had encountered no resistance, many of their forces had returned to the canyon, leaving a smaller platoon (including herself) behind. It was a risk, yes, but one that was much less conspicuous than bringing a full army.
More of a chance to prove herself, she supposed.
Maybe she could- *click.
Eh?
She broke from her thoughts, looking down at the knob she had twisted. Unlocked.
...And there was the unease again.
She hefted her Octoshot, gently opening the door. The light from the hallway spilled through, illuminating the room. A sparse, small space occupied by a plain, wooden wardrobe and bed, unmade. A patterned carpet. A comfy chair in the back. A dead, potted plant.
Huh.
She had been expecting something more… spartan, she supposed. With how minimalist and dense this dome was, seeing something so… ordinary, felt off.
Regardless, might as well check through everything.
Under the bed… Little storage cubbies, locked.
Bed, just unmade, nothing under the thick, fraying sheets.
Wardrobe… she rooted through the drawers, finding a few articles of clothing. Nothing special, nylons, fabrics, pants, shirts, shoes. All non-descript, and, oddly frail, like they were falling apart?
Was anything here, anything at all containing a shred of personality? Minimalist utilitarians, whoever made this place. The thought was annoying, but not uneasy. She preferred that thought. Made everything here feel so much, much less threatening.
She opened the bottom-most drawer. More clothing, the same as before. She barely spared it a glance, but something glinted from within. She dug it out, curious.
It was metal, heavy, cold to the touch. An intricate, odd-shaped splattershot? A short, stout dualie? She held it to the light. It's grip fit comfortably into her hand, yet was quite heavy. Her finger naturally fell within the trigger well. It felt wrong in her grasp, yet so right.
Was it a weapon? It wasn't like anything she had ever seen, yet it seemed so much like a splattershot. She messed with it, trying to uncover its secrets. Pulling back on the topmost bit of metal revealed a small space filled by a little, metal capsule. More fiddling caused a long, narrow rectangle to fall from the bottom, holdin more of the aforementioned capsules.
Strange.
Eh…
She'd figure it out later. For now, she slipped it into her waistband. Not the best spot, but there weren't many other options. Who knew? It could prove valuable. Something the scientists would enjoy, that much she knew.
Could it be what gets her that promotion? Maybe? The thing seemed useless, but who knew? Still, the discovery gave her a nice flurry of tingling in her stomach. Excitement.
She got up from her crouching position, stepping out of the room.
Discovery aside, she still had the rest of the dome to look around.
For the past fifteen minutes, he had been sitting in the closet, almost in a daze. Minor, flawed thoughts raced through his head, plotting, trying to digest the current situation.
Mhmm…
A few stray thoughts had snapped into place a while back. This place was familiar, and he had figured out why. But, he never thought he would see it in person.
This place was, impossibly, one of the Shelters. Or… he couldn't remember what they were called exactly, just that "Shelters" was the unofficial, slang name for them. Bomb shelters built during the Fourth World War, rendered obsolete by the construction of the Emplacements. Kept at the ready, just in case, yet unused.
That they survived was an extremely good sign of life, yet quite twisted by the presence of the pseudos.
They defiled this place.
But, if nothing else, there was one thing he knew for certain. Every shelter had held a "black box" of sorts, something to record events and store all the data accrued. Held somewhere at the base, one random fact he could remember. The Shelter's control room, probably. He knew each one was situated at the base of the Dome, somewhere.
It was a long shot, but it was a possibility. If the pseudos hadn't found it first, though.
Something didn't sit right, though.
This place was one of the Shelters, yes, but that discounted two important details.
One: They were always, without fail, built closer to the coasts, not nestled within the land like this one was. Difficult to construct, yes, but in a situation where seconds could mean saved lives, close proximity to coastal cities was a must.
Two: The shelters were supposed to be larger. Much larger. Large enough as in to have their own weather patterns, support entire city populations. The main dome here was certainly massive, yes, but they were built on a relative scale. By comparison, this one was small, puny, even. It could maybe support… he didn't know, five hundred? A thousand?
He had no idea.
It begged the question; What was this Shelter doing here? And of such unconventional design as well.
The thought didn't help one bit. Yet, it was oddly comforting, in a way. This was a mystery that wasn't caused by this new world, but some forgotten remnant of his own time. When did conventional conspiracy become a reassuring pastime to him?
He was losing his mind.
Ok…
…
He could do this!
...
...
…
...He couldn't do this.
From his perch, he had counted at least fourteen of those curly tentacled pseudos, not to mention the abominations wandering about on the floor of the Domed expanse. Monsters of tentacles. True aberrations. And here he was, thinking that those fish from the island were abominations.
But, that wasn't the point.
Rather...
What had he been thinking!?
He… he wasn't some kind of action hero. In the past, he may have thought he could have taken on this challenge, that he could do this.
Everything that had happened since the Flood had beaten that out of him.
And as much as it hurt his very soul, he was outclassed here. Badly.
Those four from that fishy horde were using those odd paint weapons. Who was to say those were the only weapons they had? He had been lucky enough that his suit was specifically meant to keep foreign contaminants out. The same couldn't be said for bullets, magnetic slugs, plasma, essentially, any modern weapon. It could maybe stop a bullet from penetrating due to the specific weave used, but that wasn't for certain. But it certainly wouldn't stop the kinetic force!
Really, what had he been thinking? That he would just go in guns blazing like some kind of Rambo? That he could single handedly free this bunker's inhabitants from what amounted to a small army? He was a scientist who had never spent a day in combat, the worst stress in his life from anxiety of tomorrow, of his work, and the constant threat of a ICBM strike before the Emplacements had been erected.
And from coyote howls at night, but that didn't count.
He wasn't a hardened soldier; he was injured and hungry, absolutely weary from this journey, little energy left for even just walking about.
What he wouldn't get for some Tomato Basil Soup...
But each pseudo down there was in prime fighting condition. Each one trained and presumably well cared for. Healthy, uninjured, well fed…
He didn't have a chance in Hell.
He had only one shot at this. If he failed, it was all over. If he was captured, it was all over.
They might have been benevolent, maybe, but that was a chance he couldn't take. He had been going off of his gut this whole time, and it told him that these pseudos were bad news. And if his captive humans theory were true, what would stop them from locking him up as well?
He just wanted to talk, to drop the facade.
...
...For now, make a hasty retreat, rest, then come back tomorrow. Even if he had no more groceries to pilfer, some sleep could help. Maybe a solution would present itself. Or… something would change? He was grasping at straws.
He wasn't ready for this.
But, what choice did he have?
...
This wasn't the end, just… a tactical retreat. He didn't know what his next move was, but… he could adapt. That was what he had been doing all this time, right?
Didn't stop the bitter taste in his mouth.
...
He began his way back through the escape tunnel, feeling his way through. Slow, yet sure. No need to waste battery life when touch would suffice.
He had been through once, he could do so again.
It wasn't choking in the darkness; just… peaceful, in a way. He liked it. Gave him a chance to mull things over.
He needed to break in, but how? He wasn't a soldier, but a scientist. His job had consisted of working on complex chemistry, finding an ideal solution. For the most part, theoretical issues he wouldn't personally have to see through. Test, fail, test again, repeat.
This problem was much simpler in theory; break into the military base, free everyone, avoid capture. It wasn't like he was messing with molecular structures or complex applications. Yet here, he was way out of his depth. There was no room for trial and error, no mistakes. The stakes physically weighed down upon him.
This wasn't an issue he could try over and again and again. He had only one chance to test any hypothesis, and if it failed… he didn't want to think about it.
Seriously, what was he going to do? Be a one man army? He didn't want to murder anyone, even if there wasn't a choice He wasn't a monster!
Right?
Right.
…
As he continued back, the tension slowly bled from him, only to be replaced by a deep-seated realization that this problem wasn't going to be going away. He was only to begin comprehending just how screwed he was, as uncouth as the phrase was.
In a way, he preferred the existential dread.
Three was beginning to regret exploring this tunnel.
Not because it was long, or dark, or even boring. It may have been a dull place, but the mystery around it was enough to keep her interest.
No, it was Four. As per usual.
"Should we really be doing this?" Four whispered, failing to keep her voice level. Nervous. Quite surprising. Or maybe not. She couldn't entirely blame Four for being jumpy, but equally…
"Yes."
"Why do you sound so-"
"Yes."
"I'm just saying…" Four mumbled, trying to get the last word in. Not that Three minded; it was always entertaining to see her try.
They returned to silence. She supposed Four did have a point about them inspecting this place now, but there were too many variables at stake. They had to get to the bottom of this; a wildcard in this mess could truly ruin everything.
And, personally, she was itching to get this done with.
She swept her light off the path, along the walls. And just like the other times, the same support beams greeted her. Meticulous, evenly spaced. There was a metaphor hidden somewhere.
Balance, perhaps?
Footsteps, coming down the tunnel.
She and Four both reacted instinctively, turning off their flashlights and flattening themselves against the tunnel wall and freezing.
The footsteps continued for a moment, then stopped. A beat. Shuffling in the dark. And just as quick as it had come, the footsteps raced away.
A minute passed.
Three let out a held breath, stepping away from the wall. In the almost imperceptible glow of their equipment, she could see how pale Four's face had gone. She didn't dare turn her flashlight back on.
But how to turn off their equipment's glow?
...This was new.
"...Maybe we should go back?" Four asked, voice shaking, "Get some backup, at least?" Both their ears pricked at a faint electrical hum, but decided it wasn't important.
"That's not an option. We have to see this through." Three stated, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"But why? Three, is this how you normally-"
The hum grew into a small whine. A flash.
Crack!
The air distorted, blowing wildly, the echoing deafening them.
A second passed before Three reacted, belatedly falling to the floor. Her mouth clenched shut, fangs grinding. Four yelped and followed suit.
It felt like the world was falling around them.
The shot's retort soon faded away, leaving them in true silence, save for the maddening beat of their hearts.
...
Three forced her racing heart to slow, her thoughts melding back into control. A rational perspective.
She swallowed the bile in the back of her throat.
…
Life and death.
Something was fired at them from down the tunnel. Not any ink based weaponry could have done it. It felt familiar; then again, after the incident, many things did. Deja vu.
There had been a strange hum before the attack? Something to do with electricity? She had no idea what else it could be.
Further investigation was required. After her legs complied.
Four was lying next to her, breathing heavily, eyes fixed, looking down the tunnel. Still paralyzed from the shock. Like always, Three didn't blame her.
Ignoring the fact that they almost died…
Soon after, slow footsteps, not long after the ringing in their ears had faded. Three remained stockstill, as did Four. No light.
To finish them off, perhaps? To make sure their vile weapon did its job?
Ametuer.
It would be their downfall. Three's grip on her Hero Shot tightened, a knot forming in her sternum. The footsteps grew closer. She couldn't see, but her hearing was more than enough.
Little more…
Almost…
…
Now!
She sprung up, flashlight pointed at her attacker, other hand holding her hero shot aloft.
A blur. Something tall, grey, indecipherable shrieking. Jittering, shaking. Blanching.
Screaming.
Chaos.
Horror.
Before she could even pull the trigger of her weapon, it was gone.
…
She stood still, an unnatural calm over her. Minutes past without incident.
They should be safe for a while.
Now then…
...
Three fell to her knees, violently regurgitating the bile in her stomach.
Oh cod, she almost died! She almost died!
The thought fueled her retching. The one time she was bold and a bit careless about her mission, and she almost died! They weren't synced up to any respawners, it would've killed her! And she didn't even know who attacked her!
Grey, twitching, her memory broke beyond that. It was like nothing she had seen before, that much she knew. Did it cause the explosion?
It… reminded her of the briefing from earlier. The destruction.
It was a long… no, it wasn't a coincidence. The destroyed facility, this dome, it… this was all connected. Somehow. And that-
And… and she had almost died at the hands of the culprit. The one behind it all.
She was sure of it.
Her world shifted, eyes scrunching shut.
Hah…
She spit out the rest of the bile from her mouth, forcing the rest back down.
Push down the feelings, worry about them later.
As much as it hurt, she couldn't afford to be weak. She needed to focus. Luck had saved her once, but that grace wouldn't be extended a second time.
Calm, objective. She could do this.
She stayed low to the ground, feeling around for Four. There hadn't been an explosion of ink, so she should've been fine. That person's weapon felt like a charger in function, yet entirely different in execution. One shot. A sniping weapon? Presumably. How fast it could fire was still unknown. If it had hit Four, there was no chance she would have kept her form.
Besides, it had never fired when she ambushed it.
But that first shot...
Seeing as the tunnel behind them had collapsed, it must have missed them and hit a support instead. That would explain the earth shattering vibrations she felt right after.
Was it intentional, or accidental?
Regardless, it had cut off their only way back.
That… was very bad.
...
And there she was, still lying on the floor.
No response from Four. Knocked out, likely.
From shock, stress and surprise? Probable.
Three flipped Four onto her back, feeling for her face…
Still breathing. Good, good.
Safe and sound, just unconscious.
Hmm...
A part of her considered leaving Four behind. Let her rest while she continued onward, securing the site, finding out what attacked them. She knew Four would object, that they should delay their attack. But Three knew, deep in her cartilage skeleton, that they needed to strike. Strike now.
It might throw her into the boiling pot, but at the same time, this went beyond the command structure. She was in the field, in the thick of it. She could take the initiative if need be. She had earned that right.
Equally, was it right to leave Four behind, defenseless? =
…
Damn her heart.
She shook Four, mumbling various nothings under her breath. Four was just out due to shock, not a concussion or anything worse. Her crude methods would have to do.
Her hands fell to Four's shoulders.
No turning back now.
Nope nope nope! Nada! Zilch!
His insides were splitting apart, writhing like snakes, burning. His ears rung like damnable bells. With a final push, he collapsed within the damnable storeroom, forcing the broken door shut behind him.
He was trapped! Trapped! Boxed in!
He had messed up. He had messed up badly. His one shot of freedom, literally speaking, and he blew it!
What had he been thinking?!
What was wrong with him!?
He had almost killed someone! And for what? A quick escape?
Fuck!
And now what? A pissed off pseudo cutting off his only way out, and an entire base of pseudos in front of him. The latter didn't even matter, seeing as he accidentally collapsed the tunnel!
Calm down, CALM DOWN DAMMIT!
Ok, think, think!
Clearly, going up against one pseudo was better than any entire bunker full. That was mathematically sound. The pseudo had ambushed him, yes, as well as knew he was here now. Yet, their only option was either to continue along the tunnel or hold their position.
But even then, escape via the tunnel wasn't even an option anymore. He had heard the collapse! Why did he think of firing his rifle in there at all!?
But, there was still hope.
More likely than not, the rifle discharge wasn't heard from within the bunker. It had been a fair distance away, and from the din in the dome, it was likely not heard. A small comfort, yet it did little to warm him.
After all, he was still reeling from the past few minutes.
Only one way forward for them, a long tunnel, a chokepoint, a killzone. From an empirical standpoint, a simple equation to solve. But that disregarded the human element.
He couldn't kill them. He physically couldn't pull the trigger.
Thou shalt not kill.
Thou. Shalt. Not. Kill!
Even to save his life, his species.
Those monstrosities that assaulted right after he got out of Polaris, that was different. Feral, mutated monsters intent on murdering him and those pseudos.
But this… he couldn't do it.
As much as it scared him, they were too much like humans.
He took a deep, shuddery breath. There were… other options he could pursue.
Gently, he cracked open the door. Light spilled into the darkened tunnel, chasing back the darkness. And, consequently, illuminating a very angry, female pseudo at the edge of its reach, wearing an odd, bright vest and holding a highlighted, glowing pistol, futuristic in design.
Nope!
He slammed the door shut.
What kind of weapon was she holding? Magnetic, plasma!?
What else could it be? Why else would there be all sorts of lights on it?! Style!?
She could blow him away before he could even raise his rifle! He was supremely lucky to still be alive! All thoughts of fighting her flew from his mind.
He rushed from the door, from the room into the hall. She was ready for him, knew he was here. A soldier, no doubt. Soldiers beat scientists almost every time, and he was most definitely not bulletproof.
He rushed into the Dome, throwing all caution to the wind.
"What in the-?"
Rebecca craned her neck upwards, looking near the top of the dome. She had just finished sweeping another hall when she heard it. The running of something on the walkways, way above them. She could barely hear it over the ambient sound of the Dome.
That couldn't be right. Had one of her sisters begun exploring the upper levels already? If so, why would they be running? They were a disciplined force; it was unprofessional to run outside of combat. Wasteful of energy and vigor. Suffice to say, her own spurts of energetic running had been thoroughly removed during her training.
Still, something was off.
Against her better judgment, she made her way to one of the winding stairs along the edge of the dome. So far, they had proven to be the only way to traverse between the various catwalk levels within the Dome itself, save for super jumping. And that in and of itself was terrifying, trying to land pinpoint on a thin walkway over an abyss. The fact that the surface was grated didn't help. Some of her sisters had already fallen through on accident.
The running became louder and louder. She had almost made it up the stairs when she got a clear look. A… someone concealed entirely in grey, a blur. It didn't look anything like an Inkling, but it clearly wasn't with them either. An intruder…
-Who promptly ducked into the complex through one of the level's doors.
What?
She cautiously reached the top level, weapon at the ready. She wasn't afraid, exactly, curious, perhaps? A strange mixture of the two?
Someone was trying to sneak around, but who? Not one of the accursed Inklings, obviously. They would never resort to such a low browed move. They were too proud.
That suspicion was confirmed when a different door, not far from her, burst open, spilling out two very real, actual Inklings. And…
She stopped in her tracks. They made eye contact.
She unclipped a small radio from her belt, her eye contact never breaking.
"We have Agent Three and Four- yes, the Three and Four -on the top level. Could I please have some support to combat them?" Her voice was calm, monotone. A safe mode she had defaulted to. She had reclipped the radio back to her belt before she could hear the chorus of questions.
The spell broke.
The agent, Three ran at her, her splattershot aimed right at her.
Oh! There was the panic.
She had barely screamed before she exploded into a violent shade of green.
"Did you really have to splat her?"
Three lowered her splattershot, "Yes."
"But… why? You could have at least given her a warning."
"And…? She's the enemy," Three said, condescension dripping from her voice, "If we left her, she would've flanked us later on. Not every Octoling is like Eight, Four."
"But-"
"No buts. We have a golden opportunity here, and we're not wasting it."
"Wha-" Four stammered, running dangerously behind on events.
"We're taking this location. They only have about Fourteen soldiers here, and we've bypassed their entrance fortifications. This is the perfect opportunity." She failed to mention the unknown amount of regular Octarians present, but they were pushovers.
"Um… Callie is fine about this, right?"
"Yes." Technically, they had failed to establish contact since entering the tunnel, but Callie would surely approve. Especially now, as the green of their respawn anchors shined.
Three might've been bending the rules a tad (a lot), but this opportunity was one she simply couldn't pass up. They were getting the chance to take this Dome for themselves, before the Octarians established a solid foothold. And the mystery of who attacked them? Two birds with one stone. Two incredibly dangerous, difficult birds brought to heel.
Efficiency was always something to strive for. And standing around, talking, wasn't efficient. Even if their attacker had disappeared, it was still probably around here somewhere. And every prospective moment not hunting it down, nor securing this Dome was time wasted.
"We're burning time, let's continue." Three solemnly stated. "C'mon."
They had to keep moving, keep the pace up.
She had known they would be assaulting a new Dome, but… it didn't feel like an Octarian one, not by a longshot. And she wasn't referring to the lack of stickers or other inane decorations. They had the larger, singular light bulb illuminating everything, and the general structure of Dome, but the details were all off. Much smaller, walkways instead of floating platforms, it all felt more… compact. Official.
Non… Octarian.
But they could worry about all of those small details once the Octarians had been expunged. And for all intents and purposes, they had upset the nest. Already, a group of Octolings were ascending to greet them. Taking the stairs, of course.
"Hope you've been training," Three said, her voice growing grim, "You're going to need it."
"That's… ominous. They're just a few Octolings. We can take them."
"Have you not seen what we're standing on?"
Four looked to her feet, seeing the grating under them, and the level under them, and finally, the distant floor.
"Oh. I see the problem."
"Good. Conserve your ink. We're in for a rough fight." If nothing else, it was a challenge. The thought was a… nice one.
It had been too long.
Three was already well on her way to the winding stairway, Four not far behind. The Octoling force had begun up the stairs, no sense of tact or formation. Sloppy, but it made her job easier.
Three shouted, jumping down the stairs, weapon firing rapid globs of ink into the oncoming horde. They didn't stand a chance; none stood in her way by the end, their only remainders staining the grated ground.
Now, thirty seconds before they were back. They fought a losing battle, going uphill against a superior foe. A gritted smile came to her face.
This wouldn't be easy, but was entirely doable. Something to break up the boring, repetition of her usual life, even her double life as an agent.
Now, how long would this mission take to grow stale?
If it did, she could always let Four take over. Well, maybe. They had linked up to the respawner the Octarians had set up, so theoretically, they were safe. Would make all of Four's blunders ultimately consequence free. Though granted, if they did get splatted and respawn there, they would probably just be splatted over and over again. That would… not be good.
Oh look! They were back! And they were even organized better than before!
Cute.
"Yahhhh!" Three shrieked, charging forward.
They could only slow her down.
Once again, Three dispatched the horde of Octolings, sending them back to their respawner. Move forward, and by then, they were back. Splat. Rinse, repeat.
All brutally efficient, little hiccups.
And, excluding Four. She was in an awkward spot, just watching from behind, holding her own Hero Shot. She had yet to fire a single shot, and Three had given her no chance to help. So much for teamwork. They simply weren't trained to work together.
And why should they have been trained like that?
After all, this was her and Three's first, true joint mission.
Truly, a fluke they were together on this. It just kinda… happened. Had this method of attack not opened up, Three would have forced her way in through the main entrance, leaving Four on standby in case things went pear shaped. And knowing Three, the situation would never have looked to resemble any fruit.
But this? The Octolings ran up again, this time throwing a cluster of bombs their way. Three backpedalled to avoid the explosions, then ran forward, ink flying. And since the Octolings had wasted all their ink on the bombs, they were defenseless. Once again, they were sent back to the respawner.
It was actually starting to become boring, relatively speaking. This place definitely wasn't an Octarian Dome, and that encompassed their base designs. No inkrails, lines, superjump pads, or even the iconic Octarian, floating platforms! Just boring, restricting grate walkways.
They didn't even have any pretty scenery to admire, seeing as none of the Dome walls had any screens. Just boring grey.
Ugh.
Three smacked down the Octolings, again.
Four stopped briefly, leaning on the railing. Below them, she could see the squad rejuvenate back to life, popping out of their respawner. Just as quickly, they were climbing up the stairs again to greet them.
Did respawning restore their energy, or something? Or was their physical conditioning just that good?
She looked up to bulb lighting the Dome, rolling her eyes.
The world may never-
Her eyes came back down, brushing along the upper levels, alighting on someone above them.
...
Who happened to look suspiciously familiar.
Even from a glance, she knew who it was. The same, grey mask was etched into her memory, as much as their boot's pattern was etched in her foot.
Even if her innards had begun to buzz in surprise, she kept her external posture indifferent. It took all her willpower not to stare, but if they realized that she knew they were here…
Well, it wouldn't be good, that much she knew. Why were they up there?
They were like a vulture, watching the carnage. Waiting to swoop in to feast on what was left...
Motives aside, if they played this out correctly, perhaps they could be captured along with the Dome?
She got up from the railing, huffing as Three dispatched the Octolings again.
Perhaps it was good that she was around. A charger couldn't operate without a spotter, right?
"Again!"
Rebecca barely spared a look at their superior as she and her sisters ran back up the walkways.
The sneak attack by the two agents had caught them off entirely off guard. They had somehow gotten into the Dome through the top level, effectively taking the high ground. And with their superior equipment, they had no problem beating the Octarian forces back. Combined with how the narrow walkways restricted their movement, and the grating, they were sitting targets, unable to get an attack in edgewise.
It was a situation they had never encountered.
But, some things they knew; The agents had to run out of ink at some point. If they kept up the pressure, she had to run out at some point.
Though, in her opinion, it was futile.
They simply couldn't count on that.
Which was why, instead of rushing up the stairs, she ducked into the complex. It may have been disregarding the orders of her superior, but equally, if she actually managed to splat them, it could mean all sorts of commendations for her in ingenuity, intuition, initiative, and other words that started with an 'i'.
Thankfully, it wasn't too hard to ascend quickly. She was retreading old ground, and before she knew it, she was up on one of the higher levels, above the agents. They had already made good progress, about halfway down.
She had just stepped out onto the catwalk, when her plan hit a snag. Specifically, a large one.
One in the shape of another person, covered head to toe in thick grey, who had just finished levelling a strange, white charger at her chest. An emotionless mask stared her down.
She hadn't done much to muffle her footsteps.
Whoops.
...
One.
The person didn't move, just holding the charger, keeping it level at her chest. The charger shook in their grip. Their whole body twinged like a leaf.
Two.
Both stood at a brittle impasse. Both didn't want to be heard, obviously.
Three!
With lightning speed, she dove back through the door, swiftly rolling to the side. In an instant, she was up against the wall, out of sight thanks to the door frame.
No shot followed.
She breathed out in relief, only for her to suddenly choke on air as the person followed in after her.
There was no point in taking chances now. Just after they crossed the threshold, about to see her, she leapt out of her spot, wildly spraying them with ink.
The same ink which bounced off their suit, not even leaving a stain.
...
W-What!?
The elbow that followed broke her shock.
…
…
…
The tight feeling around her wrists and ankles was what brought her back.
She blinked the bleariness from her eyes, trying to shake the fog from her mind. The side of her head stung from the blow, and her brain prickled in pain. She tried to move her extremities, and found she couldn't.
A cold spike pierced her heart when she saw them. They were tied!
Not by rope, but by long, spindly, yet strong wires that bound her wrists and kles.
And the same person stood over her, securing the bonds further.
Ow ow ow ow ow…
She hissed in pain. The tightening relented, only for her to be staring down the masked figure, who stared right back. The mask was emotionless, but… she could've sworn there was an air of regret? The slouched back, the stance? The harsh and alien, yet apologetic mutterings? The head pat?
How had this night become so insane so quickly?
And then, they were gone, their fleeting footsteps slipping back into the Dome.
No matter.
She easily slipped out of the bonds via her Octopus form. One simple morph, and the bonds practically fell off. Did they really think that would work?
Maybe. They hadn't even bothered with a gag.
Practically everything about them raised questions, but for now, repelling all the invaders was more important than any answers.
She unclipped her radio from her belt.
"There's a third, unidentified infiltrator here. Walkway level three. Can I get some support to deal with it? I'll be on the walkways in a moment; superjump to my position."
She paused.
"Oh, and bring a splatling, please."
The rest of her brothers and sisters could handle the Agents. She, on the other hand, would take down this unknown target with the help of the summoned posse. A gamble, but one she knew would pay off in the end.
She had waited a few moments before stepping back out into the Dome, and fortunately, she didn't repeat her previous mistake. The person stood away from the door, a good length of catwalk between them. Still watching, still observing.
If they played this right, they could take out all three.
This was SO getting her promoted.
The Octarians had begun to prove a challenge.
For one, they had begun deploying a few of their flying Octochoppers now that they were close enough to the ground. The sudden torrent of ink and bombs had proven irksome, yet with a graceful dodge, they were quickly equalized. Unfortunately for the Octarians, they were well within range of her Hero Shot.
Classic Octarian goof.
The stingray hadn't been fun either. One of the Octolings had unleashed the vile beam from the base of the Dome. Thankfully, it didn't split the thin walkway apart, yet the beam still forced her to give ground. Until it stopped. The brief reprieve the octoling troops had felt was cut off by her weapon. Did they really think it would work?
Well within boundaries.
They were becoming smarter with their tactics, but it was of no concern. For now, she and Four had some breathing room.
Everything was fine, until suddenly, three Octolings superjumped past their position, onto the walkway level above them. She saw them land precisely; meaning someone else had to be up there, guiding their jump. Four Octolings in total, at least.
But, she caught a glimpse of one more person. One wearing gray…
So, there they were…
"Four!" She barked suddenly, "cover for me!"
Without waiting for a reply, she pushed past a surprised Four. She could hold back the tide for now. Three had faith in her. The Dome could always be reconquered; this person was an elusive target.
A thrill trilled through her body.
This was her chance!
This was her chance!
And if those Octolings got in her way, they would take a few more hard knocks.
She was almost up the steps when she heard a distant "Fire!" come from the gathered Octolings, and the sound of a heavy splatling fire. And luckily for her, she had the perfect view.
The ink bullets bounced off of them, making meaty impacts, knocking them back. Yet they pushed forward, one arm shielding their face against the ink fire. Not splatting.
That was new. Some new, prototype armor? She knew they existed, but to be one hundred percent effective against enemy ink?
They were softening up her target. How nice of them.
"It's not working!" One of them shouted, panic beginning to seep into his voice.
"Using a stingray!" Another suggested.
She had considered stepping in, but at the mention of the stingray, she stepped back, ready to dodge the pressurized blast. They may not have been aiming for her, but who knew how accurate they were?
They really were doing all the work for her.
Yeah, she'd step in after they were done.
As her brother let the stingray pulse out, Rebecca couldn't help but smile. It may have been petty, yes, but her sore wrists and ankles called for blood. This may have been disproportionate retribution; like she cared.
Payback, nerd!
What made it even better was how panicked they were. The rising shriek of building pressure clearly terrified them. They were stuck like a bird in a spotlight, one hand on the railing, bracing themselves.
Like that would help.
Glorious, truly.
Her euphoria furthered when the beam fired. Finally, revenge!
...
The smile quickly fell from her face.
The stingray shot was perfect. A direct hit.
But, it didn't splat them.
It sprayed wildly against them, pulverizing them, but they withstood it, just barely. Their grip on the railing loosened.
Then, the Stingray petered out. As soon as the force stopped, they dropped to a knee, exhausted.
...
What?
How did-
No, that didn't matter right now.
What mattered was that a very exhausted, irate individual who was holding their charger in a firing position. With shaking legs, they forced themself back onto their feet.
The same charger was now leveled at their little group, but was not fired. The figure holding it seemed almost hesitant, unsure of what to do. They were angry she thought, but equally, were still.
It was a weakness she was all too happy to exploit.
She was the first to run at them, shouting a warcry.
Yet they still didn't fire.
The same couldn't be said for the fist that struck her shoulder.
It knocked her down, throwing her into a daze.
Yet, her sacrifice wasn't in vain.
While she writhed in pain, she heard ineffectual weapons fire from her sisters and brothers, followed by shouts of surprise.
Forcing down the pain, she got back to her feet, just in time to a few of them pile onto the intruder, wrestling them to the ground. Yet, they weren't able to restrain them. They couldn't get a grip due to their flailing, and said flailing was quite effective at knocking them off. They were entangled in the mass of bodies. Not even their struggling could get them out.
Desperate, like a cornered animal.
But, numbers were on their side.
Eventually, their struggling ceased, degrading into panting and small spasms. The bottom of an Octoling pile, subdued.
Yes.
She cautiously knelt down, staring at them through it's opaque mask. It was petty, yes, but a little gloating never hurt.
"Not so tough now, are ya?"
But they weren't listening to her words; rather, they were fixated on the old dualie-like artifact tucked into her waistband. She followed their gaze. Did they recognize it?
Something was wrong.
All hell broke loose.
The being's struggles renewed, more desperate than ever, along with un-... cephalopod shrieking, like a fork on a plate. The animalistic yowling startled her squadmates, who were thrown of their target's back as they forced themselves up.
She stepped back as they reared onto their feet.
On pure instinct, she pulled the strange weapon from her waistband, pointing it at the struggling person's head. Point blank. They were scared of it, she knew.
Anything to take them down.
Time stopped.
They made eye contact.
A moment of peace in a sea of chaos.
…
She pulled the trigger.
A.N.
This will be a longer Author's notes. Apologies.
Another chapter is down! It was going to be longer originally, but it grew, way, way too messy for a single chapter. Sometimes, sacrifices have to be mad, but believe me, it was for the best. As fun as a 10k chapter would be, I don't want to dump too much on you all at once.
I'm hoping this chapter makes up for six, though. It was fairly rushed due to personal reasons, and I'm beginning to regret that. I have half a mind to go back and improve it, yet equally, it could backfire. Do you think I should? It's more soulless the rest of the story, at least in my opinion.
The point being, thanks for sticking with me so far, even if this story is far from perfect. It truly means a lot, and hopefully, with what comes next, it will meet your expectations. We'll see what happens.
Or, if nothing else, trying to fix this mess going forward. Any criticism or improvements you may have would be greatly appreciated.
Onto other things. Truly intriguing that we'll be receiving a third game in the series, no? I suppose we'll be seeing a new era of fanfictions come around as a result. It's funny, in a sense. We can categorize many stories on this site based on which game had been out at the time. I like to think of them as the S1 era, the S2 era, and soon enough, the S3 era. I wonder if this story should've been written in the first era. Might have made it better, I'm not sure. It would be nostalgic, that much I know.
Suffice to say, we'll probably be sticking with the Splatoon 2 setting. Technically, this story takes place about 2 or 3 years after the events of 2, so we're in the S3 time period, but I digress.
Thank you for reading these inane ramblings, and as well for the kind words you have all left! I'm not sure why you're doing it, but thanks! See you in the next chapter!
This may be a bit informal, but shit will be going down next time.