Ayla couldn't believe she'd let Gavin talk her into this.
The ex-scout stared up at the rusted maws of Grizzco Industries, steeling her nerves with an unsure gulp. The building's littered walls and stained steel assured her that the company lived up to its skeevy reputation…and the rusted beer can she almost tripped over wasn't helping. But her bank account was plummeting faster than a lead ball from the Leaning Tower of Squisa and she needed something to plug the hole; so when Gavin had approached her looking for a fourth Salmon Runner to sign up with, Ayla—against her better judgment—took the spot.
The Octoling caught sight of Gavin's mohawk as he waited by the shuttered ticket booth with the rest of his team. She could see an Inkling boy with his tentacles tied into a mild-mannered bun, and…
…Oh no.
Ayla absolutely couldn't believe she'd let Gavin talk her into this.
"Hey!" Gavin called to the ex-scout before she could sprint to the nearest bunker. "Glad you could make it. This is my friend Quinn, the guy I told you about." He clasped the Inkling boy's shoulder and gave it a hearty shake, "and this is—"
"We've already met." Agent 4 only offered a small nod, shifting her indecipherable gaze towards Gavin. "Long story." She mouthed something Ayla couldn't hear and Gavin's beak replied with a silent, enlightened "oh"—then Delta's blue eyes were back on the newcomer. Ayla quickly averted her gaze; the absolute last thing she wanted to do was threaten Agent 4 before they sailed to a remote island far removed from the outside world. Including emergency services.
Gavin's shoulders shrugged his mistake away. "Sorry, didn't realize you two knew each other. Come on; the staff should be waiting for us." The pink mohawk swung around and Gavin began to lead the group into Grizzco's dim lobby.
"Relax." Ayla barely had a moment to breathe before Delta slid beside the Octoling's shoulder with a smooth sidestep. "I'm not gonna come after you anymore."
"…You are not?" Ayla risked a breath after a few surprised blinks; half from Agent 4's proximity and half from Delta's sudden cut to the chase without any sort of small talk.
"You spend sixteen hours working at the cafe, two hours running errands and six hours sleeping." Delta's shoulders rose into a tiny, dismissive shrug. "You don't seem like you have the time to be a problem—and any sheepdog worth half their ink only bares fangs when there's actually a threat. But mark my words—" The all-too-familiar fire flashed across her eyes in an instant. "If you dare try to hurt the city, I will be the first to come after you." And then Agent 4 was off, catching up to Quinn with an effortless jog.
The ex-scout was left with an uneasy exhale and two takeaways. Takeaway 1 was a relief; she didn't have to worry about sudden death thanks to a certain NSS agent. Takeaway 2 was dear cod she needed to delete her transaction history before sudden death thanks to a certain NSS agent.
Ayla had been desperately trying not to overthink the insinuation that Delta had been spying on her for cod knows how long when she bumped into Quinn. She quickly glanced away in a fruitless attempt to escape the embarrassment, noticing that the soon-to-be Salmon Run team had stopped at the front desk of Grizzco Industries.
Although calling it a "desk" would've been generous. It was more like "bear statue on a bunch of coolers," and it wasn't even manned by anyone. Ayla watched Gavin look around the office for a staff member, then scan across the coolers in search of a bell to ring.
"Hey, kids." A low, grizzly voice reverberated through the office. "How'd ya like to help shape the future of Inkopolis?"
Gavin's red eyes danced around the cluttered, rusted lobby as he searched for the voice's source. "Uh, wh—"
"Welcome to Grizzco Industries." The voice carried on as if Gavin hadn't said a thing. "I'm Mr. Grizz." Ayla's trained ears tracked the sound to the statue on the coolers, and the scout finally noticed the antenna poking out of the bear's back. The bear. The bear was Mr. Grizz…and it was speaking to them.
This was normal. All of this was normal.
"Hi… Mr. Grizz." It was Quinn's turn to step forward—despite nearly stumbling on his shoelace. "Yeah, we'd like to uh,… 'help shape the future of Inkopolis'––couldn't have said it better ourselves. In fact we already set up a recruiting appointment with the manager."
"Ah, good to have ya onboard!" The…bear…statue…rasped back. "Yuri's ready for ya. Just follow the TVs 'round the bend and he'll be waiting in the back room."
Ayla turned around to follow the team's gaze at the aforementioned bend…and was greeted with a sickly, orange-green hallway poking out of shadows that clung a little too densely to the corners. The girl felt a shiver crawl up her shoulders as she realized a grand total of three minutes inside Grizzco Industries had done nothing but confirm her suspicions about the company. Ayla's periphery happened to catch Delta defensively raise one arm across her vulnerable chest and a hand to her chin, rolling her shoulders in a quiet but aggravated huff.
"…Right." Quinn uttered as he shook the stillness from his frame—steeling his own nerves. He turned back to the statue with a cordial smile scratched onto his beak. "Thanks, Mr. Grizz!"
"Mr. Grizz" didn't respond, but Quinn took it in stride and ushered his soon-to-be teammates past the TVs––an entire wall of them actually, for some inexplicable reason Ayla couldn't comprehend––until they came to the rusted-iron door at the end of the hallway. Delta halted at the left side of the door and gestured at Gavin, who nodded and spun the nautical latch—and Delta led the others inside.
"Welcome." An Octoling with more earrings than ears sat before a rusted desk, illuminated only by a single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. "Name's Yuri; I keep track of Mr. Grizz's Salmon Runners. Which one o' you is Gavin?"
"That's me." Gavin pointed an unsure thumb at his chest. "We spoke on the phone earlier about signing up."
"…Like the 'do." Yuri slowly flicked his own dark-green mohawk with a slender finger, leaning in to stack a series of papers on the desk. "Take a seat––we've got some legal mumbo jumbo to get through." Ayla happened to glance at the purple cooler beside Yuri's chair as she sat down. She stifled an unsure gulp when the foreign letters on its label spelled "Dir. Inhibitore"—or at least, that's what she'd thought they spelled. The ex-scout wasn't sure if the "h" was actually a "b" or if the "b" was actually an "h" or if that long jumble was even supposed to be all one word—because it sure as squit didn't make any sense. And she was supposed to read her way through legal text?
…Good cod, Ayla was about to sign her entire life away.
"Alright." Yuri took a second to reposition the oily, leather jacket over his gray w-3 shirt. "I know Mr. Grizz already said you're in, but you still gotta answer a few questions before we officially employ you. The law says we need to have some sorta criteria, so if it's cool with all o' ya, I'll just run through the questionnaire and decide who's in." Yuri fished a black pen from his pocket and clicked it open with a slim thumb. "Question one: are you breathing?"
Ayla had to sneak a glance at her diaphragm. Was she breathing? Between her earlier conversation with Agent 4, the talking bear statue that was about to become her boss, the front desk of coolers, the twelve TVs and the sketchy-as-squit hallway––Ayla wasn't 100% sure if she was still alive. But a small pinch on her arm confirmed she wasn't a ghost and the Octoling nodded with the others.
"Then congrats!" Yuri tossed the paper over his shoulder after scribbling "yes" down. "Welcome to Grizzco Industries: where we become our own agents of change." Ayla's new manager spared a sly snicker at his wording as he plucked four packets from the stack of papers, sliding one to each cephalopod. "Up next is signing the contracts. Go ahead and read 'em at your own pace, and if you can't read I can…" Yuri's words trailed off as a ringtone buzzed through his pockets.
"Sorry, gotta take this for a sec." Yuri pulled his shellphone out to check the caller ID, then held it up to his ear. "Hello? …She's here now? I need it for training today, can't you use yours—…Fine. I'll be right there, but you owe me." He tapped the red circle on his screen with a frustrated sigh.
"Sorry." The manager rose from his chair as he reached for the purple cooler, and a faint golden glow leaked from its lid as he hoisted the container to his chest. "I've got something I need to deal with right now. Go ahead an' read the contract, sign it, and I'll be back in a bit." Yuri closed the door with a silent clang, and any promises of help with reading had left with him.
The four cephalopods were left to their own contracts—and the other three had already begun to read in silence. Ayla thumbed her way to the least intimidating part—a section titled "Liability Wavier"—and started her read there:
"Employment as a Salmon Runner comes with natural risks." The section began. "You acknowledge that Grizzco Industries cannot guarantee the safety of the aforementioned jobs and is not responsible for the maiming, splatting, bodily trauma, psychological trauma, blunt-force trauma (particularly from a frying pan or otherwise weaponized cookware), mild/moderate traumatic brain injury, ink stains, ink burns, exposure to boiling ink at high velocity, exposure to open water, severing of limbs, embedding of teeth in flesh, transmittance of salmon-born diseases via saliva or open wounds…"
Ayla skipped a bit.
"…and you hereby waive Grizzco Industries of any liability from injuries that may or may not occur as a result of employment."
…And she thought this was the easy one.
Now "injury" was a term she knew. But this "trauma" thing that kept coming up? Not so much. But understanding what it meant implied asking the squid sitting next to her…which happened to be Delta. Ayla tried her best to swallow the nervous lump in her throat. She still felt trepidatious around the agent, but she needed to learn what she was agreeing to…right?
"Um…" Ayla ventured a questioning whisper at Delta. "Translation?" Delta leaned over, her royal blue eyes darting back and forth as the read the text.
"We're gonna get totally pulverized out there." She concluded, turning back to her own papers. "And we can't sue Grizzco for it."
"Oh…ok." Ayla wasn't entirely sure if that was okay.
…But wait, didn't Delta have to sign the same thing Ayla did? Wouldn't that mean whatever "pulverized" meant would also have to come after her? Delta didn't seem worried about it—but then again she was Agent 4, so she probably didn't have to worry about anything within their entire plane of existence at all. But then that means…
If Ayla had missed anything bad in Grizzco's contract, couldn't she just glue herself to Delta? And then Delta would just obliterate it, which would mean that Ayla wouldn't have to worry about anything within her entire plane of existence. At all. Sketchy legal documents and scary risks included.
Ayla signed her name at the bottom with a bright grin. Was this what invincibility felt like?
"Sorry about that." Yuri (finally) came back into the room, shellphone in one hand and closing the door with the other. "Under normal circumstances this is when I'd ship you guys out for training and walk you through the ropes, but our one training boat is, uh…" he gave an awkward cough, "…no longer available." The dark-green Octoling glided back to the desk and pulled a spreadsheet from the still-thick stack. "So just write down your name, address, and bank details––and I'll put you in the system when I can."
"Sounds good." Quinn fumbled the paper to him. "Do you want us to come back for training before we start the actual job?"
"Your first shift is tomorrow, so…no." Yuri shook his head as he pushed the rest of the papers at the new team. "But you'll learn fast on the job. These handbooks'll explain what to do; but the bottom line is shoot Salmonids, collect Golden Eggs, and not die. Pretty simple."
Ayla was feeling at lot better about that last part.
"Okay, let's just…start from the top again." Marie huffed as she paced her way back to the front of the table, much to everyone's groan. Delta was sure the entire NSS had been "starting from the top" for the past two hours, only to fall hopelessly lost in evidence and theories over and over again. Judging from the sighs and rubbed temples that collectively swept through the conference hall, she could tell the other agents were as exasperated as she was.
"Elizabeth left the bar and walked into her building with friends." Gavin read from his notes after shuffling back to the first page. "They left around 3:05 to retire to their own places where they slept the rest of the night. One of those friends was sent to look for her the following morning when she didn't show up for work, who called the police after finding her dead. The body was still present at the scene when paramedics arrived; later the forensic autopsy estimated Elizabeth's time of death was 3:18."
"What if she just really wanted pizza?" Callie suddenly snapped herself back to reality—but froze when she noticed the confused stares. "Oh, we started over? Sorry."
"So yeah, I was right." Delta shifted her weight to face Marie. "There weren't any signs of a break-in and the time of death is really close to when Elizabeth's friends left. Are we sure one didn't stay behind?"
"All three of them seem to have good alibis." Quinn leaned over to peek at his friend's notes, only to grab at the table in a panicked attempt to keep his chair from falling over. "Two live together while the third has a witness. Their word checks out."
"…Does it?" Callie scratched at her forehead.
"Yeah, plus the police collected the footage from the camera in Reefside's lobby. They all left at the same time." Gavin turned a page. "Not to mention that the string on the fishhook was tied in a sailor's knot, and none of their dossiers mention a background in sailing."
"So…let's just recap." Agent 2 stopped at the head of the table, rubbing at the back of her neck. "We have a fishhook tied with a sailor's knot—that points to a sailor," Marie's other hand raised to count on her fingers. "The glowflies on the fishhook could mean they frequent Salmonid nests—which lines up with the whole sailing thing, they somehow knew when Summers' friends left her alone, and for some reason she suffocated instead of burst."
"And don't forget the weird bruise on her right temple." Quinn dropped his pen with an overwhelmed huff. "Or the fact Grizzco isn't talking. Or the toxicology report that had to be redone four times and it still can't define any of her ink abnormalities. Or that there's no break-in yet all her friends have good alibis." The Inkling leaned against his chair's backrest as his hands raised to re-tie his tentacle bun. "It feels like we know too much and too little at the same time. We've got more clues than we can handle, but there's no way in squell they fit together in any sensible way."
"'Cept they have to fit, 'cause it happened." Cap'n Cuttlefish finally spoke with a kindly chuckle. "So it looks 'ta me yer missing some important info tha' ties this all together. Intel is the most important thing you could 'ave on your enemy; if ya don't know how they operate then ya can't find 'em. So how do ya fix that?"
"…We need to find out." Marie tapped her nails against the table's oak in realization. "Because you can't attack what you can't find. So we need to get that intel and learn exactly what makes this Lightfisher tick." Cap'n Cuttlefish tried to hide it, but Delta could watch the delighted grandfather burst into a proud grin.
"So why don't we just go after this idiot?" Callie finally spoke up again, restlessly shifting in her seat. "After all—wouldn't watching 'em react to stuff tell us more than just sittin' here thinkin' thoughts all day?"
"Okay, that's ridiculous." Gavin scoffed. "We wouldn't be in this position if we could do that."
"…Cal has a point." Marie conceded, dipping her chin into an ever-so-slight nod. "Time is of the essence; we shouldn't be wasting it by picking the killer's mess apart like custodial bottom-feeders. We should be doing something to slow the enemy somehow."
"Wait, you agree?" Gavin turned back to the green squid, eyebrows scrunching in bewilderment. "Think about this logically. Just who would we be 'going after?'"
"I'm not saying we go out there and try to arrest them." Marie laid her arms back onto the table. "Or go after anyone at all. Just stir the pot a little and see how they react. You can learn a lot about someone by watching them handle the unexpected."
"You can also learn about them by analyzing the evidence they leave behind." Gavin tersely rebutted. "Besides, what's your operational definition of 'stirring the pot?' Right now we have no idea of what that pot would even be, and if we do the wrong thing we easily run the risk of scaring the Lightfisher off before we can catch them."
"Eh, Marie can figure something out." Callie shrugged the Octoling's concern away. "She's really good at this! You should watch her—"
"—Sit back and read a book and do nothing." Marie uncomfortably cleared her throat.
"Um," Sheldon's brown glove poked over the table, followed by his shell and goggles. "Baiting a response worked for us last year. Marie used that to run circles around the Octarian military." Delta heard the quiet, weighty tap of the captain's Bamboozler to her right; but the aged grandfather said nothing.
"Yeah but that's the military." Quinn fidgeted with his side bang. "This is forensics, and the first time I've heard of a group of detectives baiting a suspect like this. How much do we wanna bet that the tactic works outside of the military?"
"Violence is violence no matter its form." Delta could feel her shoulders begin to tighten; Marie and Gavin often debated with different opinions, but it was unusual for them to get so heated…and she couldn't quite understand why it was happening now. "The cousins are right; the longer we sit here the more permission we give the Lightfisher to kill someone else. I'm for whatever decision lowers the body count."
"Look." Marie huffed an aggravated sigh. "All I'm saying is we try to flush 'em out so we can study their reaction. If you're so hung up on evidence, we can analyze whatever they leave behind. But letting them keep control of the situation won't give us what we need."
"But there's no evidence to say that'll work!" Gavin pulled at his mohawk in agitation. "I really, really don't understand why you're so hung up on taking such a huge risk—"
"Maybe it's not such a huge risk." Marie interrupted, folding her arms across her chest and staring Gavin down. "Maybe I've done this before. Maybe I know what I'm talking about. Maybe there's such a thing as waiting too long. Maybe that's called losing."
"Okay, guys." Callie's hands raised in a subconscious surrender. "Let's try to—"
"Quiet!" Gavin snapped back before locking eyes with Marie again. "Don't you think it's a bit misguided to follow the advice of someone who's barely listened this whole—"
"I think it's a bit misguided to treat my cousin like that—"
"ENOUGH!" Cap'n Cuttlefish slammed his Bamboozler into the ground, and the entire Cabin shook with the force of his bellow. Everyone froze in place—quickly dispelling the visceral snarl that had swept through Marie's beak. The head of the NSS took another breath, lowering his voice into something calmer. "Enough, both of you. Agent Eight, your diligence is one of your best qualities but for the love of cod stop questioning every single little suggestion. You're gonna drive all o' us nuts, including yourself."
"Thank you." Marie muttered, pushing her hands off the table.
"You too, Agent Two." The captain turned his beard to his youngest granddaughter. "Relax, he's just trying to do his job. Eight didn't mean any hard feelings."
But Marie didn't say anything, plopping back into her seat with a disgruntled huff.
"The cap'n's right." Gavin ran a sheepish hand along his mohawk after a pause. "I guess I got carried away. I didn't mean to offend anyone. …Sorry."
"Apologize to Callie, not me." Marie's shoulders were still stiff, and Delta could tell she was doing her best not to glare. "She's the one you—"
"It's fine, don't worry about it." Callie silenced her cousin with a gentle nudge.
"Did either o' ya stop 'ta consider you're both right?" Cap'n Cuttlefish repositioned his cane closer to the table's edge. "Yeah, we need more evidence. And yeah, we need 'ta poke the tigerfish a lil'. So here's what we're gonna do: our operation in Grizzco is gonna be our bait. You lot—" he pointed his cane at Quinn, Delta and Gavin. "You lot are gonna be just a tad more obvious with yer questions. Just enough pressure to make the Lightfisher squirm a bit; we might not know much about 'em, but we do know Grizzco is close 'ta home somehow. But tha's just our first front."
"We're also gonna be doing a lot of the ol' siftin' through evidence." The captain continued. "I keep hearin' 'we don't know this' or 'we don't know that,' so you folks need to be findin' out instead of squabblin' like hatchlings at a birthday party. And 'ta keep this from happening again—" the retired sailor sent a pointed look at Marie and Gavin. "—I'm splitting all o' ya into teams. Eight, Three and Sheldon—you folks cozy up to the police and see what kinda new evidence ya can find. Feel free to contact Pearl and Marina if you need help figurin' out how the Lightfisher does the deed."
"Understood." Quinn gave an affirmative nod.
"Agents One, Two and Four." Cap'n Cuttlefish turned back to the left side of the table. "You three look at the evidence we have an' see if those brains o' yours can find any new threads to chase. Try 'ta learn what kinda killer we're dealing with while yer at it."
"You got it, Gramps." Callie flashed a fangy smile with a thumbs-up. "…Ooo, we gotta come up with team names!"
"We'll meet back here and discuss what each team found every now and then." The captain turned back to the center of the table, ignoring Callie's excited proposal. "But fer now I want each team 'ta spend the rest o' the meeting on their own. Got it?"
"Understood." Delta mumbled with the rest of the room.
"Good." Cap'n Cuttlefish shifted his weight onto his Bamboozler. "Dismissed, get your sorry hides to work." Delta was about to stand when a wrinkly hand pulled at her jacket.
"Keep an eye on them." Cap'n Cuttlefish spoke low as he jerked his head at his granddaughters; Callie had mouthed a gentle "you ok" to her cousin, who replied with a tiny nod. "Understand?"
"…Yes, sir." Delta's reply was more instinctive than conscious. She hadn't expected a personal mission of her own nor the captain's change in tone.
"Good." The NSS captain grumbled. "Now help me outta this chair."
"I got it Gramps, don't worry." Marie's kimono swooped in to help Cap'n Cuttlefish stand. "…Sorry about earlier."
"Ah p'shaw, don't worry about it." The old sea captain waved his granddaughter's apology away; any hint of sternness had vanished from his kindly features. But Marie still hugged her chest, almost like she was nursing a wound deep inside. Cap'n Cuttlefish pursed his lips, tapping two fingers on his Bamboozler before humming in realization.
"Oh, I almost forgot." He took a hand off his cane to rifle through the pockets of his green jumpsuit. "You 'ave a special task for this investigation, Agent Two: yer gonna profile this Lightfisher and tell us how to catch 'em."
The green squid took her eyes off the floor to stare at her grandfather for several seconds. "…Okay, but how on earth do I do that?"
"You already know how. But ya can borrow this if you need a refresher." Cap'n Cuttlefish produced something purple from his pockets and passed it to his younger granddaughter.
"This—" Marie waved the book in her hand, gripping its cover a little too tightly. "—is only for military campaigns. Not civilian cases."
"Where's a war really fought?" Captain Cuttlefish straightened his cuttlebones, patiently resting both hands on his Bamboozler.
"Between two minds." Marie's reply was nearly instantaneous from years of study. "Learning your opponent well enough to predict their movements and exploit them."
"And what do we need 'ta do here in order 'ta catch our killer?" Marie's mentor raised an expectant eyebrow.
Marie silently stared at him for a good few seconds before shrugging unsure shoulders. "…Learn about them?"
"…Enough to predict their movements…" Cap'n Cuttlefish's beard bounced in an encouraging nod.
"…in order to exploit them." Marie's own eyebrows raised, her jaw dipping into a silent realization. "Profile the killer, learn the motive, predict the next victim and intercept to arrest."
"Tha's my girl." Cap'n Cuttlefish burst into a proud grin. "Everything is connected. This investigation is still a war between two minds, just in a different battlefield. You already know what to do."
The idol's beak cracked into a sheepish grin. "…Thanks, Gramps."
"Anytime." Cap'n Cuttlefish arched his back into another stretch, but this one came with a yawn. "Well, I'll leave ya girls to it—there's a cot upstairs with my name on it…"
"That sounds like a great idea, Gramps!" Callie whisked her way into the conversation, grabbing her grandfather by the arm and leading him out of the room. "Let's get you settled in, ok?" She glanced at the other agents over her shoulder. "We can head back to the apartment to chat—I'll meet you guys there."
"Make sure he takes his multivitamin!" Marie called after them with a nod, then nodded at her protege. "All right, let's go."
The unknowing cephalopod might've assumed that middle-class Inklings owned the Squid Sisters' apartment. Aside from the cast-iron shelf of awards, the place was decorated modestly with basic-but-fuzzy carpets, ironwood chairs, and the occasional poster—Delta could spot a couple promotional ones from prior concerts. She had quickly learned that while the cousins had billions of coins to their name, they definitely preferred to upgrade furniture instead of curating acres and acres of land overflowing with expensive yet useless curiosities. But it was also what Agent 4 enjoyed most about the apartment; it made her stop and appreciate just how little one needed in their life in order to complete it.
"I know Gramps just dumped a lot of extra work onto all of us today." Marie closed the door behind them. "Hope that doesn't inconvenience you too much."
"It's fine." Delta walked past the pearl-white kitchen as she shrugged her mentor's words off; she knew it was one of Marie's more subtle ways of apologizing. "Dylan's not coming for another few days, so I've got time."
"You guys are still going strong, huh?" Marie's beak curled into a haphazard smile, dumping the papers onto the kitchen table and spreading them around. "That's good. I'm happy for you guys."
Delta nodded as she watched Marie organize the papers, then her eyes wandered to the composite couch in the living room. Marie's laptop sat open on the navy-blue cushions, surrounded by paper after paper of scrawled text and diagrams. The agent found herself wandering over to investigate, and closer inspection told her that the idol hadn't been working on her day job—or even the murder investigation. The young Inkling scooped up the nearest paper to discover it was a sketch of Octo Canyon of all things, complete with notes scribbled between each sector and a rough timeline at the bottom of the page. The one for Tentakeel Outpost was particularly interesting:
"Octo Oven shipped out within 24 hours of Zapfish theft." The annotation read. "The process of building an Octoweapon must've taken multiple days of Zapfish use in order to test it…so how were they ready so quickly?"
Delta began to frown. She remembered this. The Octo Oven was the first Octoweapon she'd fought against last year, and its presence had taken Marie completely by surprise. The giant machines had concerned Marie enough to recruit Sheldon, sure, but Delta hadn't heard two words about it since. So why was it suddenly on her mentor's mind a year after the mission?
"What's all this?" Delta found herself asking.
"Oh, don't worry about it—just looking through a few things." Marie was quick to bound over and scoop up the evidence. "Just looking for ways to improve." Her words only fueled Delta's curiosity—she'd learned repetition was one of the idol's antsy behaviors—but Agent 4 was the one who was snooping, so she politely kept quiet.
"Okay!" Callie burst her way into the apartment. "Operation Naptime has been successful, so that means…" The pink squid was at the kitchen table in an instant—complete with a cheery fist pump. "Boot-Rockin' Variety Squid Crew, assemble!"
Marie didn't budge, staring at her cousin with a baffled blink. "…What?"
"What?" Callie feigned a hurt pout. "It's our team name! Or maybe I should've gone with…" She scratched a thoughtful finger across her chin. "Oooh! How about The Lady Warriors––"
"Let's just get to things, yeah?" Marie stepped back into the kitchen with a stressed huff, leaning over the clutter of papers strewn across the small dining table. "We've got a lot to get through today, and I want to have everything at least read by the end of tonight—maybe a lead or two if we can." Callie's cheer paused as she eyed her cousin with a suspecting brow.
"…Okay, what's up?" Her hands went to her hips, narrowing inquisitive eyes at the green squid. "You've been actin' really…off."
"I…" Marie's shoulders rose into a dismissive shrug, but fell into an unsure one. "I guess it's Gramps' task—I know that both strategy and forensics are about getting inside your enemy's head, but his book only analyzes it from military maneuvers. The Lightfisher—" she swept a hand over the papers, "—obviously isn't attacking the city with an army. So I don't know how I'm supposed to apply my tactics here."
"Oh that's what you're worried about? That's easy-peasy!" Callie gave an incredulous scoff as she vaulted onto the table, sitting on its surface and swinging her legs off the edge. "You don't learn about somebody just by watchin' how they use an army, silly. You've been a pro at this ever since your judgy teen years; don't just look at what somebody does, look at why they're doin' it."
"The Lightfisher is a serial killer," Marie dipped her head at the litany of forensic analysis as she began to collect papers, "not some catty preteen. If I'm not reading all of this right then the whole investigation is doomed from the—you're sitting on one of them."
"'You're sitting on one of 'em.'" Callie parroted back with a goofy, playful tone. She shifted a hip so Marie could sweep the paper away—and then plunked her weight right back down. "So! What does it say?"
"'Splatter trajectory doesn't match any known weapon.'" Marie read aloud. "'In addition, it substantially exceeds the velocity of any commercial weapon as well as illegal, unregistered ones. The power draw required to match these results is considerable—which begs the question of whether the murder weapon is personally customized.'"
"No wonder the police were having so much trouble…" Delta tapped her fingers against the table, lost in thought. "Making an arrest for a homicide relies on tying the murder weapon to a suspect—so if no weapon is found then the case usually goes cold. And sometimes even knowing which kind was used isn't enough to locate the actual one. Dealing with limited info on an unregistered weapon would be much harder to trace—and a custom-made one from the black market would be nearly impossible."
"You should listen to your hired gun." Callie swung her attention back to her cousin—Delta narrowed her eyes at the pink squid. "What does that tell ya about our baddie's strategy?"
"If that's intentional…" Marie hadn't stopped gaping at Delta. "…Then my cod that is genius." She finally averted her gaze to pace between the other two agents. "That's at least two different layers of protection that hobble the investigation considerably. Most criminals just…don't go to that kind of length to keep the police off their trail."
"…See?" Callie's golden eyes lit up in triumph, still swinging her legs. "So what does that say about the Lightfisher?"
"They like covering their bases, that's for darn sure." Marie spared a glance at her cousin as she kept pacing. "They're detail-oriented and as careful as they come—reminds me of the Octolings we saw out of the Canyon. This is no clumsy idiot."
"There's the Marie we know and love!" Callie's beak broke into her iconic grin—complete with another fist pump. "Not even the smartest of murderous refugees can hide from my cousin; we'll be ripping 'em to octo shreds in no time!" Her grin cracked even wider. "Feelin' better now?"
"Yeah." Marie admitted a smirk at her cousin. "I see your point. Thanks, Cal."
"Here for ya anytime, girl." Callie finally vaulted off the table, turning back around to face the rest of the papers. "Now—let's take a look-see at what else we've got…"
…And that was how Delta ended up staying the night at the idols' apartment.
A/N: Hello, I have persisted past paper purgatory…plus presenting plural presentations. Try saying that five times fast.
Remember when I said things would get a little longer? Heh heh…the first complete draft for this chapter clocked in at a whopping 8k words and my jaw hit the floor. I thought about splitting it into two chapters but nothing about that really felt right, and trying to move scenes into the next chapter really just delays the problem at best and exacerbates it at worst. So I went on a limb and took an ax to all the transitions, then went on another limb and tried a totally new tactic that (should have) consolidated all the subplot stuff into one cohesive section. I have zero clue if it actually worked, but I managed to shave almost 3k off the original—so at the very least the chapter should be much more enjoyable than it previously was. Aaaaand that pretty much sums up how revising works in general (Rereading this during the rewrite's revision makes this whole paragraph a mood XD)
Here's a bit of info for anyone who hasn't read Caught in a Lie:
-This Marie is very very book-smart, and she's a secret nerd for military strategy. That purple-sleeved book is a copy of the Art of War that survived human extinction…and it may or may not be her favorite security item XD
-This Callie is very very ADHD, and often struggles in tasks that require sustained attention and speedy cognition. She is, however, very emotionally intelligent and that's how she tends to navigate through her weaknesses.
I'm pretty sure that's enough of my inner Sheldon for now, so I'm just gonna wrap this up here. Huge shoutout to everyone who read, reviewed, fave'd and/or followed the last chapter, and I'll "see" y'all in the next one!