Standards

Calling a classmate names—
You know better than that.
I don't care what they did first.
Don't make yourself less
To get even with the world's bullies.
That only makes you just as wrong.

Marie closes the tupperware, tucks it into her insulated bag, pulls on her mask, and leaves. She doesn't exactly stomp as she makes her way to the plaza, but she comes close. She had a wonderful day: slept in, watched first High Tide Era and then Off The Hook cover the news while she had a late brunch and an entire pot of coffee, played turf, and continued learning all about the different radio equipment and how to que up different songs. Donald Caballo mentioned that, after she's off the news permanently, she should ask for her own program; she's looking forward to it.

But none of that makes up for now, when she squids down the drain and emerges in the valley, and turns to glare at DJ Octavio.

Octavio glares right back. "What is it today, you slimy hipster?"

"Food," Marie retorts, opening the bag. She pulls out the feeding slot, shoves the tupperwares in there with one of the many sparkling waters kept in the hut for him, and closes it.

Octavio opens it and scowls at her. "Macaroni and cheese? Hot dogs? Again?"

"Would you prefer another mystery soup?" Doing that's actually kinda fun. She's even set up rules for it: choose six items from the kitchen, chop them up to appropriate soup-size, simmer it for twenty minutes and serve. The last lot was tofu, garlic, bananas, spinach, walnuts, and a red squiddymelon. Still, it feels a little mean to make him eat it, so she tries not to do it more than once a week. "I'm not leaving until you're finished and return the dishes, again, so you may as well get on with it."

Octavio uses the plastic spoon provided to shovel some into his mouth. As soon as he's swallowed, he fixes her with an even worse look. "When I am free of this prison, you will regret every moment of this."

Marie rolls her eyes. "Just keep telling yourself that."

"With two of your number away—"

"We're more than capable of handling you without them." Marie settles to a seat and watches him eat, pulling faces the whole time. "Agent One and I have Captain Cuttlefish's and Agent Three's phones, so we'll still get the alerts." She has Gramps on her bedside table, and Callie has Three's hung by her sunglass collection. "They're in secure locations further from this place than our associate will ever be, so if you actually do manage to crack the thing—"

"And I will," he interrupts, pointing at her with the spoon.

Marie snorts and leans back on the couch, tucking one leg up and letting the other swing. "A direct hit with a dynamo might crack it," she says, eying it; she looked over the specs with Sheldon more than once. "If Agent One were wielding it, definitely, but she's an accomplished roller main. The average Octarian wouldn't even leave a mark. Actually getting you out would be two, maybe three solid blows, and by then all the alarms'd be going off." She leans back on her hands. "They can't even be turned off unless we're within visual range of your cage. You escape, we'll be on you before you can get past the first kettle."

He throws the empty macaroni container at her; it hits the inside of his snow globe and slides down. "My loyal subjects will—"

"Your brainwashed subjects will have their goggles removed, by force if necessary, and we'll see how loyal they are when they have a choice." Marie can't pretend indifference now; she gets to her feet and presses her hands to the glass, where she leans forward until they're face to face. "I can't think of anything more despicable than what you've done, and I swear, you'll pay for it if it's the last thing I do."

He spits at her. It hits the globe's edge and slides down, but Marie is shaking with rage, because she knows the intent. "You are a fool," he says, his eyes boring into hers, his voice soft with conviction. "Few of my subjects would abandon me, or our cause, even without their goggles. And those who would?" His smile makes her tentacles pull in close to her skin. "We have more effective measures for them."

Marie stares at him for several long moments.

Then she turns and leaves, leaving him with his empty containers and plastic. She just... she...

She'll talk to Callie. Callie never gets this angry with him; it rolls off her like ink on a bubbler. If she takes over building the new base in Octo Canyon, surely Callie will feed this monster breakfast and supper, not just breakfast.

Because Cod, Marie can't any more.