Ink as Red as Blood; a Dual Fates Side Story

A Splatoon Fanfic

By The Impartial Hand

Inkopolis, 23 years ago

With one last push, Merlot, only son of the Rouge family, heir to a fortune worth millions, was born.
Born healthy, he was allowed home after only a couple days, and his parents, Cardinal and Rose were thrilled... initially.
For him, they had decided, a future of luxury awaited; they had already arranged for him to attend the finest schools, preparing him for a posh job at their Power Egg farming business, and they were already in talks with other wealthy families to arrange his hand in marriage to one of their daughters.

Merlot was six, nearing the end of his "young" stage. He hadn't yet gained the ability to change forms, but… his parents believed he just wasn't trying hard enough. His father claimed he had been able to change forms as early as four, and his mother supposedly had memories of doing so at five. At the time, there had been a shake-up in how Power Eggs were allowed to be collected; a massive cut to the company's profits, a number of employees had to be laid off, and, importantly, Cardinal was incredibly stressed.
Rose had just gone out to shop for wine; no servants were allowed in the house, for Cardinal and Rose worried they would steal, and Rose didn't trust anyone else's palate to pick out wines for her cooking. Cardinal had calls to make, so he left Merlot alone in the Sitting Room, believing there was nothing in there Merlot could manage to break.
There was, however, an antique, a Great Turf War Mk I Bamboozler, from when they were still made of actual bamboo. It was the same one that Lt. Seymour V. Rouge had used to break the Octarian line in the battle of the Calamari Canal, and had been passed down from generation to generation. An antique hung, with care, about the fireplace mantle, in the same place it had rested for the past ten years. Cardinal had said, at some point, that he would mount it to the wall properly, at some point, but had forgotten- it rested only on thin, tin hooks.

His father had just gotten off the phone when he heard the tell-tale snap. A snap that wasn't wood or plastic. A snap that definitely came from above the mantle. He ran to the Sitting Room, his face initially full of panic, before being overwhelmed with anger. Merlot was standing there, trying desperately to put the now-bent Bamboozler back up on its hooks, the barrel cracked and splintering. Cardinal approached his son, and the door swung shut.

When Rose got home, he told her of how he caught Merlot playing with it, how it had broke while he was putting it back and had tripped. He didn't tell her about the bloody nose Merlot had, or how he didn't get it from falling. Nor did he tell her about the bruises on Merlot's back. Merlot was young enough, he assumed, that he wouldn't remember.
But Merlot never forgot.

Merlot was now thirteen, regularly attending school a prestigious charter school. His performance, though, was... far lower than his parents had hoped. They blamed it on the television. Turf Wars. It was all anyone ever seemed to care about, but for their son, it was rubbish. He wouldn't become some Turf War ruffian, they said. Merlot would soon find his television taken away, and his parents continuously reinforced that he would never partake in them- they were for the common folk. Those who had nothing else to aspire to in life. Company Presidents did not play Turf War, they played Golf, they painted with brushes, they avoided respawn pads like the plague. Having ensured their son had no way to fixate on Turf Wars, Cardinal and Rose patted each other on the back. The problem was solved.
Then, he failed his first test. No matter, they reasoned. Their son would do better on the next one. But... He didn't. He failed that one too, though by less. And his third test, also failed, though barely. Their confusion was immense. Their son was in his room, studying, for hours at a time; how was he doing so poorly? And so, they began to monitor his studies- his grades improved, and so they stopped monitoring him, only for his studies to decrease again. Peculiar, they thought- Until one day, when Rose caught him in the act of sneaking out when he was supposedly studying. His slipping grades, it seemed, had been caused by him sneaking out to go to the mall- in itself, not terrible, as Rose was initially excited at the prospect that her son had a social life- until she found what mall he had been going to, and why.
Arowana Mall.
Her son had been sneaking out to go see Turf Wars.
She flew into a rage, dragging her son home by the arm, and once home, she saw to it he wouldn't even think of sneaking out again.
The bars Cardinal put on his window caged his body, but the burns on his wrists caged his spirit.

Merlot had been feeling off for a few years before he figured out what it was. Once he had, he knew he needed to speak with his parents about it. He had no idea how they would respond, but he needed to get it out. He watched nervously as they came in, Cardinal arguing on the phone about something and Rose ordering something online- probably another expensive car that would never be driven. They took their seats, he took his, and he took a deep breath...
"Mother. Father. I have been... lying to you."
His mother... rolled her eyes? An action very unbecoming of her.
"We are aware. You used your allowances to purchase a Cellular Phone. It does not bother us, as it has not impacted your studies."
Merlot held his tongue- it would be incredibly rude to interrupt his mother, and... he knew where poor manners would get him.
"Yes, well... I have been using that phone to speak with people online. I have been feeling... something, something I could not put words to, for some time, and I wanted to find answers."
Cardinal was still arguing on his phone, not listening, and Rose looked... bored.
"Get to the point, Merlot, we haven't all day."
Here it goes.
"My point is..."
"I... I am not your son."
"I am... I am a girl. I have been speaking to the most wonderful people online, and they helped me sort through how I was feeling, and we figured out that... I am not a boy."
"I have been using the name Carm-"
She was cut off by her mother's hand striking her face, hard. It was so sudden, so unexpected, even as she had seen her crossing the room, that Carmine bit her lip in the process.
"...Your phone. Give it to me, Merlot. And don't you ever speak of this again, to anyone, do you hear me?"
Her father still arguing on the phone, Carmine handed her cell over to her mother. Her parents left the room and, in solitude, she felt a tear roll down her cheek.

Carmine was seventeen. And before she could intercept, Rose found a cheque in the mail containing her winnings from her first month of Turf Wars. Carmine had never stopped talking to her friends the year before; while her mother had thrown her phone out, she apparently hadn't accounted for her daughter being willing to dig it from the trash. They had, in secret, formed a Turf War team; something she had been expressly forbidden from doing so very, very many times. She was good at it, too- her teammate, Morado, had said she was a natural. She felt on top of the world, until-
Back to the moment. Rose was screaming at her, throwing things, waving the cheque around before ripping it to pieces. Carmine yelled back, crying, begging to know why she couldn't just be happy, why they wouldn't let her be happy. Eventually, Cardinal forced her to her room, where they locked her in- in the morning, they said, she'd be taken away by a group who said they could "fix" her, turn her back into their son.

They didn't anticipate Carmine's friends.

In the middle of the night, Carmine bolted awake. She looked around her room, then out the window. Rain. A downpour, in fact- the only light from the occasional flash of lightning.
She stood up, trying the door- bolted shut, from the other side. Even if she could get it open, her father had likely pushed the bookcase into the way again, anyways. Assessing her other options... nothing. The windows were barred, and with the rain she wouldn't be able to change forms to get around them. The A/C vents had been moved to the ceiling years ago, and there was nothing in the room to ink a path up to them. There was nothing. No escape. She went back to bed, and cried.

Outside, three cloaked individuals stood, assessing the manor. A high exterior wall, with electrified barbed wire on top. Even if there wasn't any rain, they figured the current would fry them. No matter. One of the figures drew a weapon, a sword made in the shape of a human relic, and in one clean strike, sliced the lock off the side gate- the main gate was secure, electric locks and a motor-driven gate mechanism, but the side gate, leading to the garden, only had a padlock. Their path now open, the three proceeded in, the rain splashing off their waterproofed cloaks as they moved in unison through the night. Locating Carmine's room was easy- the only room on an above-ground floor that had bars on the window. After that, they moved to the garden shed, retrieving the ladder they knew was there and setting it below the bars. One of the two without weapons climbed up, drawing a crowbar and waiting- a flash, and then, the third counted down... on the third's mark, the one with the crowbar heaved, bursting the bolts holding the bars free of the wall as a crack of thunder masked the sound. He moved to the other side, waiting, and the same as before, pried against the bars. As the crack of thunder faded away, the bars fell, hitting the ground below, and the figure opened the window and stepped through.

Carmine bolted awake again to see him standing there. She almost freaked out, about to screech, before he lowered his hood. Morado, one of her teammates- the one who said she was a natural. Quietly, he spoke.
"Carmine. You weren't answering your phone, and Naranja said he saw your parents talking to... certain unsavoury people. Are you alright?"
Both of them knew the answer before she responded. The streaks of tears were still visible on her cheeks.
"...No. No, no it's- Morado, it's-"
She broke into tears again, and he closed the distance, pulling her into a tight hug.
"Shh... Carmine, you're going to be okay. We're... we're all here. Naranja and Vermillion are waiting outside. We... we can get you out of here. You can be safe."
Carmine seemed to cry even more at that, at the notion that it wasn't just Morado here to check on her. It took her a few minutes to calm down, to catch her breath, before...
"...Let's g-go."
Morado nodded, pulling a cloak from the same bag he had put his crowbar in. Carmine took a few moments, getting dressed, before putting the cloak on. The two of them were gun about to leave when they both tensed up. It had been almost indiscernible, amidst the sound of the pouring rain, but they swore they heard the sound of a charger reaching full power. Neither of them moved, as time seemed to slow around them, until- Morado shoved Carmine out the window, sending her tumbling into the arms of Vermillion and Naranja, her other teammates, as Morado spun around to confront the charger's wielder.

A few minutes earlier, Cardinal had awoken due to a buzzing... an alarm. The alarm that told him if the bars on his son's room had been tampered with. A quick glance at the security cameras showed two figures outside, and a third in his son's room, speaking to him- those Turf-War ruffians, the ones who had corrupted his son. With silent fury, he crept through the house, grabbing the Bamboozler off the mantle- cracked, perhaps, but still functional, still dangerous. He waited for the sound of thunder to quickly push the bookcase aside, opening the door to see the two of them about to leave, and took aim. The Bamboozler had just finished charging when he saw Morado punch Carmine out the window.

Cardinal pulled the trigger as Morado turned to face him, hoping to hit the younger Inkling dead in the chest, but Morado had other plans. Seeing the cracks in the barrel, Morado ducked to the left, rolling as the damaged weapon sprayed wildly in a cone to his right, before leaping out of the roll, tackling Cardinal and knocking the weapon from his grasp. Cardinal had an advantage of age, perhaps, and strength, but Morado had the advantage of skill, and of experience. As the two got up, he took the opportunity to land a few jabs at Cardinal's face before getting into a defensive stance. He had a plan to lure Cardinal towards the window, away from his weapon, so that he could then escape safely into the rain. Cardinal got up, letting out an enraged growl before swinging wide from the left, giving Morado plenty opportunity to land a couple jabs to his exposed trunk before weaving under the punch and shuffling back. Cardinal followed, as hoped, still swinging wildly as Morado jabbed again and again, not aiming to injure the mature inkling, just to piss him off. Before Cardinal knew it, Morado was back against the window, giving him one last jab to the face before flipping backwards out the frame and into the arms of his teammates. The group ran off into the rain, where Cardinal couldn't follow, only watch as they disappeared into the night.

A few hours later, the group had arrived- by foot- to the same place they met for Turf Wars- The Sleepy Manta Cafe. Morado nodded to the owner, a kindly old man who had been good friends with his father, as the group headed into the basement, where the private rooms were located. Vermillion locked the door, and once inside, they four of them planned. Once the planning was done, they swore themselves to secrecy, and left.

The next week, Carmine turned 18. The first thing she did was go into the Inkopolis Police Department and dispute the missing persons case her parents had filed. With that out of the way, she went to sign with Morado and Vermillion for a cozy apartment not too far from Arowana Mall. After that, she and Vermillion went to the banks, to ensure her financials were in order- which they were. The account that she had went with Morado to make was perfectly safe now, the only concern having been if her parents had found out about it prior to her becoming an adult, which the hadn't. All that was left, then, was for her to go to city hall, file the paperwork, and, officially, Merlot Rouge ceased to exist; Carmine's name was, legally, changed, and she was free.

Inkopolis, Present Day

Carmine sighed, reclining on the couch of a safe house- the very same safe house she had used to hide for a week back before she turned 18. Scrolling through her phone, she waited for the signal from Morado that it was safe to return to their apartment, but it had already been three days since she had heard from him, or Vermillion for that matter. Naranja still stopped by, to assure her that everything was under control, but having been around him for seven years, she could see through his mask, and tell when the usually-stoic inkling was lying. Flicking off the 8-o'clock alarm she had woken up long before, she sighed, getting up and taking a look out the window- just in time for the sky to start falling.

To be continued in Dual Fates: Chapter 8

Author's Note: Hopefully, this isn't as hot garbage as the version I wrote some 5-odd years ago. Kept the Kirby, though. (^.^) (^w^)