Chances

Agent 2, what are you doing?
You had several opportunities,
But you wasted them.
If this had been a real mission,
Your caution would have ruined everything.
You cannot second guess yourself,
Not when everything's on the line.

"So we're decided," Marie says, looking up from her laptop. "The four groups we should recommend to audition to be the next news hosts, to announce the news one morning or afternoon a week all fall."

Callie grins. "We've got some great names on here," she says. "All have at least one turf war track. Wet Floor, Squid Squad, High Tide Era, and Chirpy Chips." She points at Marie with her lollipop. "And you're hoping Chirpy Chips wins."

Marie shakes her head, but doesn't deny it. "They're just so good! The music's so happy, and peppy, and cheerful and gets your ink pumping, and then you listen to the lyrics and they're just so dark. It's like getting a killer wail quad only to be splatted by an ink mine while it's going off."

Callie stares at her. "I, uh... what?"

"The amazing peppy music sets you up for Awesome Happy Adventure and then the words are all SAD and DARKNESS and VIOLENCE and then the song is even HAPPIER and more ENERGETIC and the words are more VIOLENT and ANGER and EVIL and yet it somehow works out to be so happy!" Marie hugs herself. "I could listen to that dissociative lyricism all day. The voice distortion just makes it better, so the music can mean anything they want, no matter what they say."

Callie keeps staring at her, lollipop still in her hands. Finally, she shakes her head and gets her feet off the table, so she stops leaning back in her chair and can shake her head properly at Marie. "I don't understand you sometimes."

Marie shrugs. "You don't need to. We'll start meeting with the groups to invite them to audition in a week, and they'll start hosting the news next month." She sighs happily. "And the four of them'll do it every Friday and Saturday so we'll have Friday, Saturday, and Sunday off."

"You? Take it easy?" Callie asks. She points at Marie with the lollipop again. "I bet you've already got an audition for that radio program you've been talking about, the classical music one."

Marie's cheeks burn. "Maybe."

Callie laughs. "I'm trying for a small part in the next season of An Unforeseen Yet Fortunate Betrayal (With Bones). I've devoured every episode for years."

"I know, I've seen your squidflix account," Marie says. "You just want to design a fashionable villain's lair and spend a season anonymously sending glitter-filled packages that serves as a periodic distraction."

"Yeah, but I'll be a minion—not the season's ultimate bad-guy, who's of course a lackey to the mysterious Mr. Fish, but one of the Lovable Yet Misguided Assistants." Callie kicks her feet up on the table again. "So all the glitter'll be color-coordinated with the season's bad guy and I'll accidentally-on-purpose help them half the time. Also, I wanna lock Dr. Troutley and Eileen Din in a room together."

"Who?"

"The fishing-line expert who appears, like, every third episode."

Marie rolls her eyes. "Inkopolis is progressive, but they've been pairing Dr. Troutley with the aloof Mr. Finster for ages, if they make a same-sex interlude squiddor will run out of ink."

Callie sticks her lollipop in her mouth and looks smug, but doesn't say a word.

Marie laughs anyway and pulls out her phone. These are easy days: no more splatfests to worry about, and eternal long weekends coming up. She'll have to go with Callie to personally invite all the groups, which means she'll have to get a hold of herself and not fangirl when they talk to Paruko and Raian; they may get to talk to the whole band, but those two are definitely the leaders, the ones to pitch it to first.

And they should probably come up with an alternate, in case one of the bands doesn't accept. It's hard to imagine, since being on the news almost always kickstarts long-term careers from smaller bands, but between the contract terms and the grueling schedule—not to mention the stress of splatfests—it's always a possibility.

The 'no dating' contract irks her. Marie finds herself thinking about that a lot as she checks her favorite music site. Under a year until they're free of that. Maybe she could set up a fishing account? Or talk to people in turf? Starting a relationship online is probably easier, since they won't know she's famous until they meet in person, but she could give the in-person thing a go. It's getting harder and harder not to spend her time in here ogling the older girls with their tentacles in that fresh new style, or the boys with their shades and sometimes the sunlight catches on them just right to highlight a guy's cheekbones, like that guy across the street, with his spiked tentacles and...

Marie realizes she's staring out the window and looks back at her phone. Very quickly.

Hmm. Looks like DJ Lee Fish gave an interview yesterday. And there's an article doing style critiques on five upcoming bands... an expose on Off The Hook, who were just added to the turf war song list (Good for them, Marina's the only good Octarian and she deserves some success, and Pearl's not bad either). Rumors about whether the splatfest'll tear her and Callie apart, pass. Squid Squad Singer Scandal... what?

Marie clicks on that one and almost drops her phone. The article itself is almost certainly nonsense, no way a band with their synergy would have that sort of falling out, but it says Squid Squad is breaking up. And—Marie swipes to another site, and a third, and, squit. "Cal, we need to revisit the list."

"No we don't," says Callie, not even raising her head. In the time Marie was on her phone, Callie'd retrieved a pillow just the size of her forehead and is resting her head on the table. "We've got four, it's nap time, you perfectionist."

Marie rolls her eyes. "Squid Squad's breaking up."

Callie doesn't move. "Squit." She raises her head at last and blearily stares at Marie. "Didn't they write Now Or Never? We'll have to contact our agent to see what happens with our individual splatfest variation."

"I think that's under the news's jurisdiction, since they bought rights for the song to be played at the end of every turf battle, and for the variations to be made to begin with," Marie replies. "And we're final owners of any songs we make during our time on the news, for whatever reason, so we should be fine."

"Okay, then it's still naptime." Callie plops her head back on the table.

Marie groans. "We need to start talking to these people next week, and now we're short a band."

"It's not like we have many to choose from," Callie says, and even though she's still got her head down, eyes closed, Marie can tell she's thinking. "Any group that's gotten popular enough for fair consideration has been offered the chance to be featured in turf, and if they don't have a track that means they've been refused. We start there unless you're really confident one of your indie favorites could take off."

Marie sighs. It's sound logic, the base Callie set up yesterday that gave them a solid framework. The problem is, there are only so many bands, and Marie would rather kiss DJ Octavio than invite Bob Dub. That leaves—

"Pearl and Marina."

Marie's thoughts trip over themselves. She stares at Callie. "What?"

"Their group, I can't remember what they're calling themselves." Callie sits up and waves a hand. "They got a song made into a turf track right after splatfest."

Marie opens her mouth to tell Callie it's a stupid idea but finds she can't. Because it's not.

They're popular enough, sure, and both young and healthy enough that they'd be able to cope with splatfests and the rest of this job's nonsense, but even more than that, Marina is an Octoling. No one but she and Callie seem to realize it, since most people think Octarians are extinct, but it's important.

Marina is an Octoling, and she came to the surface after being a model Octoling, which means others may defect and join the surface if their goggles malfunction. Checking them, and making sure they're safe, will be easier if they have a successful Octoling to look at and contact... and any Octolings that assume Marina isn't here by choice, or want to drag her back, will still give the agents advance warning something's going on.

Plus, if enough Octolings come to the surface, people may realize they're not really Inklings. Having one Octoling to point to—successful, popular, and well known from the news and music—will go a long way towards reassuring people. Particularly since she and Pearl are living proof they can live and work with inklings.

Marie makes a note. "Have I told you lately you're brilliant?"

"Nope," Callie says, grinning. "Can I nap now?"