Ayla stared out at the ocean waves lapping against the Manta Maria's pier. The sailboat was a lot bigger than she'd imagined—and one of the oldest ships in the city, she'd overheard enough tours to lead one herself at this point—but then again considering she'd lived eighteen years without ever seeing a ship, pretty much anything that floated on water would've been enough to impress the Octoling.

A light but pesky breeze swam through the shrubs and flicked the scout's purple tentacles as it swept by. Ayla raised a hand to brush her side bangs away, gripping her notebook in the other as she shifted her weight on the iron garden bench. Then the notebook was back in her lap, pencil in hand and ready to continue her poem, and…nothing. No words; why was the last line about sand again? Since when was that a good a good idea? She twirled her pencil around and rubbed its eraser against the offending text.

Ayla dropped the pencil and looked around for inspiration, her hazel eyes halting on a small fishing boat past the Manta Maria's stern. It had stopped in the middle of the ocean as if its four passengers were waiting for…something; Ayla was horrendously confused on what that could be until a steel-cased submarine sprouted from the water before them. They anchored their tiny vessel and climbed onto the sub to greet the blue-ringed silhouette standing on the conning tower, leaving Ayla's brain racing to process.

…There were ships that floated underwater too? Holy carp, that was the first time she'd seen something like that. Ayla blinked the surprise out of her eyes, then went back to scanning through the vibrant hues of lush greens, crystal clear blues, and pure whites in front of her. The refugee definitely hated her new life in Inkopolis when it came to making ends meet, but the scenery was…

…Incredible.

Holy carp, the view in front of her was almost worth the baggage. Octo Canyon had offered only dim skies, suspiciously purple waters, and one big giant wall—which Ayla could confirm was excruciatingly boring after twenty minutes of guard duty. And that was the luxurious outdoors; the majority of Ayla's eighteen-year stay was spent inside kettles with cramped clay pots for buildings, stalactites that she was convinced would fall any second, and a pixelated sun on a dome of monitors for a sky. Not to mention that every Octoling had to wear their eyewear at all times so everything was green until the government finally upgraded the goggles to shades. Then everything was just depressingly dark.

But this? The cement underneath her feet was the whitest cement Ayla had ever seen. It was one thing to stare at a beach on a screen, but it was another entirely to inhale its salty air, hear its clear blue waves roar against the earth, feel its wind tousle through skin…it just couldn't compare. Ayla would often find herself in public spaces whenever she needed to get away, and not a single color of Manta Maria's quadrant had lost its zest after an entire year.

A buzz from her pocket made the Octoling pull her shellphone out and give it a tap to wake the screen. A text from the name in Cephalon HQ had come through:

"How many times do I have to tell you?! WE. DON'T. WANT. YOUR. MONEY. We've got his back, and I'm sure he'd rather deal with this squit himself than accept help from a traitor like YOU. Go back to your cowardly little hidey-hole and let his real friends handle his expenses."

…Almost. The scenery was almost worth the baggage.

Ayla pursed her lips and stowed the shellphone back into her pocket. She and her twin brother were very close, so his friends were her friends. And while she was grateful that they banded together to take care of things when he fell ill, the fact they now detested her stung something fierce. Ayla seriously doubted they had the funds, so the costs of moving to Cephalon for full-powered medical care plus the procedures themselves was undoubtedly more than a band of friends could handle. Ayla herself absolutely would've stayed in the Canyon if she'd known he was sick, but his symptoms didn't show until long after she'd already left. Now she was stuck far from home when her brother needed her most.

And to make matters worse, Ayla couldn't help but feel like her absence was a significant detriment to his care. The Octarian government obviously didn't like soldiers defecting to the enemy's side and had instated major repercussions if anyone tried to desert. Those punishments extended to the now-traitor's family, so maybe her brother wouldn't have been waitlisted if Ayla hadn't fled. And that meant she felt responsible. And that meant she felt obligated to help. And that meant taking unhealthily long shifts and sending the majority of her salary just to be constantly called a traitor by ghosts of her past life.

Beautiful beaches weren't worth that kind of pain.

"Hey!" Ayla looked up to find Gavin and Quinn jogging to her bench. "There you are, we've been looking all over for you."

"…You have?" The Octoling pushed her thoughts away as she stashed her notebook into her pocket, surreptitiously wiping a tear before turning back to the agent. "Why?"

"Remember what One said yesterday?" Gavin stuffed his hands into the pockets of his Octarian Forge Jacket. "We're supposed to be keeping an eye on you, so we had a mini heart attack when we stopped by your room—and then your cafe—and you weren't there. I'm a little surprised; Four mentioned you're almost always in one of those two spots, did you take a day off or something?"

Ayla confirmed with a nod, turning her gaze to her hands in her lap. The ex-scout could tell her mind hadn't restored her hotel room to the same security it had before yesterday's incident—after all a serial killer murdered her next-door neighbor and could very well be coming for her next—so Ayla understandably hadn't been comfortable spending her time alone, in a room, less than ten feet away. She felt much better sitting outside the Manta Maria with other witnesses in broad daylight.

"I get that." Quinn replied with a sharp, understanding nod. "Well, there's no safer company than a couple of NSS agents." The Inkling paused to check his smartwatch, tapping his foot like a stocks broker. "And—to make things even more murder-proof—Eight and I have a couple errands at the police station that happens to be bursting with cops ready to whoop the Lightfisher's hide. How about you tag along with us?"

So Ayla had found herself beside Quinn and Gavin as they stood in front of the city's police station. At first glance the place looked like any other corporate building—square frame, grey walls checkered with office windows, green vines covering the glass wall on the side—of course until the ex-scout glanced up and read the giant letters spelling "INKOPOLIS POLICE DEPARTMENT" on the blue panel above the sliding doors. That was a bit of an obvious tell.

"Hey guys!" Ayla's hazel eyes flicked downwards to find a familiar Officer Esteban waving in front of the entrance. "Didja miss us or something? Why're you guys back so soon?"

"Hey, dude." Quinn greeted the rookie with a handshake turned shoulder bump. "That detective on-scene yesterday told us Valerie's toxicology would be done by now." The Inkling agent lifted a hand to adjust his tentacle bun before running a finger through his side bangs. "Is he in today?"

"Detective Alex? Yeah he is." Esteban replied with a nod, turning a shoulder to point at the lobby through the glass behind him. "He was in the detention offices last I saw him—through the leftmost hall in the back when you walk in. I'd show you myself but my buddy asked for help with a troublesome detainee." He dropped his hand. "Something about a noise complaint turned physical altercation and her rowdiness isn't helping the crab figure out who did what."

"It's no worries." Quinn offered a thumbs up. "I'm sure we can find the guy." Esteban nodded again and jogged off with a final wave. Gavin led the trio through the lobby and into the hall, which opened into a room filled with large communal cells and rows of small desks.

"Good morning, agents." A tall Inkling pushed his hands off the desk he'd been leaning over, then his green eyes flicked to Ayla. "Ah, and a newcomer as well." He pressed a hand to his chest with a slight bow. "My name is Detective Alex, and I'm here to serve. What brings you to the station today?"

"Yo, 'Lex-o!" Gavin had opened his mouth to respond, but the detainee that had just arrived beat him to the punch. "Wassup? How're the kids?"

Detective Alex's shoulders slowly sagged and he pulled his glasses down the bridge of his nose, gathering his withering composure. "…Good morning, Miss Pearl."

"Pearl?" Quinn and Gavin both whipped around to face the detainee, who—on closer inspection—was the famous tiny rapper; Ayla never thought she'd run into a celebrity at a police station of all places.

"Apologies for the intrusion." Detective Alex sighed as he pushed his glasses back into place. "She's one of our regulars. We usually find her fleeing whatever rave we've been called to break up."

"Hey!" Pearl jammed a finger at the detective as Esteban led her to the detention cell in the corner. "I'll have you know I would've left you slowpokes in the dust on any other night. But uh…" She burped, patting a hand on her stomach. "Warabi made some good seaweed dumplings."

"Sure." Officer Esteban shrugged as he turned the key in the cell door. "I'll pretend those tiny little legs could outrun a squad car." Pearl's features darkened more than an ominous solar eclipse.

"Yo, whassat?" The rapper's crown snapped towards the rookie as she cupped a hand to her ear. "Do I hear a tiny, eensy-weensy peasant tryna step to the Baroness of Bars?" The detention cell shook with a sharp rattle as she gripped the bars and climbed—yes, climbed—above his head. "You better watch yo' beak before 'these little legs' spit a diss track roastin' ya so hard you'll run crying to daddy 'fore I'm even done. Then we'll see who's tiny—once you've curled into a ball in the corner an' I'm counting my brand-new stacks!"

"Esteban, rule number one about handling Miss Pearl;" Detective Alex gave up on his glasses entirely. "Don't try to joke about her height because…that…happens."

"Dang straight!" Pearl dropped from the bars. "Now hurry up and call my ride 'fore I start rapping 'bout how small your family jewels are. To your boss."

Esteban was out of that room faster than anyone could blink, shouting "you tricked me you stupid crab!"

"Why do I always get the celebrity cases…" Detective Alex let out a sigh, turning back towards the trio. "But I digress—you're here for the late Valerie's toxicology report, correct?"

"Uh, yeah." Quinn scratched at the back of his head with a chuckle. "I should've known you'd be able to guess."

"Being a detective does have its advantages." Detective Alex gave a small smile before opening the drawer in the desk and extracting a thin manila envelope. "However I'm sorry to disappoint; her results are the same as the others."

"Wait, seriously?" Gavin took the folder and opened it up, his red eyes scanning through the text. "It's inconclusive again? What on earth is tripping your scientists up so much?"

"Our forensic team is definitely detecting something." Detective Alex clasped his hands behind his back. "But whatever it is doesn't match anything in our database. Your department may have better luck; perhaps your scientists have a more specialized knowledge that ours don't."

"That's the thing…" Quinn turned to Gavin, pursing his lip. "We have a weapons guy but I don't think he'd know anything forensics wouldn't. I don't think we have the kind of scientist that could advise on this kind of thing."

"…Wait." Gavin's sight had trailed off towards the row of detention cells. "We might."

"I'm sorry, detective," Gavin hastily shoved the report back into the envelope. "But could you leave us for a moment?"

"Certainly; I'll be in my office proper if you need me." Detective Alex gave a courteous nod and retreated out the back door. Gavin wasted no time in heading to Pearl's cell.

"Psst, Pearl!" He whispered through the bars. "We need your help with something."

"…Eight?" Pearl turned around from her seat facing the wall. "And Three too? The heck're you idiots doing here?"

"I can explain in a minute." The Octoling waved her query away. "Listen—is Marina free today?"

"Oh, you genius!" Quinn clapped his friend's shoulder. "You're totally right; Marina's Octarian background could mean she knows tons of stuff the cops don't!"

"…Why you askin'?" Pearl raised a defensive eyebrow. "'Cause she 'knows tons of stuff the cops don't?' If you want her to join some sorta new crime ring ya got then I'm gonna fight—"

"Why I always in the sket-chy…" Ayla groaned as she leaned her head against the wall, but her eyes flew wide open when three dumbfounded heads stared back at her. Had…she just said that out loud?

"WHO THE CARP ARE YOU?!" Pearl bellowed at the ex-scout, who ran for cover behind Gavin. "She some sorta secret girl of yours, Eight? You better open your beak an' start talking 'fore I smack it open—"

"PEARL!" A turquoise-tipped Octoling barged through the door, barely dressed in a sweatshirt and pajama pants. "What on earth did you do this time?!"

"'RINA!" The rapper shoved her beak through the bars. "I'm innocent! The cops shoved me in here and now our buds are tryna indoctrinate you into their crime ring—"

"Stop calling it a crime ring!" Quinn finally got a chance to speak. "We're trying to stop a serial killer, okay? Ayla's a witness that we're protecting, and we need Off the Hook's help."

"…Oh." Pearl shrugged, her shoulders deflating back into their usual calm swagger. "Well why didn't you say so before?"

Gavin's palm hit his forehead.

"…Help with what?" Marina tapped a finger against her hip and cocked her head into a curious tilt, until her eyebrows began to scrunch into concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah everything's fine." Quinn raised a placating hand, then glanced around the room that was slowly filling with other passerby. "But let's talk about this someplace else. The Deepsea Metro isn't far from here; let's meet there."

The appropriately-named Deepsea Metro was…weird, to say the least. Ayla had first assumed deep-sea living would've felt similar to the Canyon kettles—what with the whole below-surface part and all—but holy carp it made the move to Inkopolis look like a simple trip down the street. The subway carried occupants ranging from mass blobs to heads straight out of a failed science experiment; and it was (apparently) driven by a tiny little blob named CQ Cumber, which raised a few questions about how exactly he pilots the thing and whether Ayla should trust her life with his ability to see the rails over the control panel. Gavin was a little too quick to answer that she shouldn't trust CQ Cumber with anything even remotely related to her life.

And then there was the giant pill bug. The others had introduced him as Iso Padre and seemed fairly friendly with the oversized isopod, but Ayla had made a mental note not to be caught dead with the guy. She couldn't tell what was creepier: the fact he'd introduced himself in nothing but riddles or—was that a stuffed Octotrooper poking out of his suitcase?

Why.

Just…why.

Why did he pat it on the head.

"So, let me get this straight." Marina's voice was a welcome brain bleach as the DJ lifted a turquoise finger to her chin, finally dressed in her jeans and crop top. "The NSS is working on the Lightfisher case but you have about as many leads as the police do. And there's this toxicology report that's stumped the both of you."

"And hold up, this dude actually manages to kill cephalo's?" Pearl burst to life on the Metro seat to Ayla's right, but the Octoling was too busy trying to comprehend the passenger dangling from the luggage rack with 24,839,574,839,348 jellyfish heads to pay much attention. "Do y'know how stupidly hard that is?"

"Do you speak from experience?" Gavin raised an eyebrow from Ayla's other side.

"I, uh," Pearl mumbled, crossing her arms and looking away. "…No."

"Pearl's right." Quinn yelped and tumbled into the seat beside Marina when the subway lurched. "It is hard to kill somebody around here; squids and octos tend to splat when they're injured enough, but they can't actually die as long as they're within range of a respawn pad."

"Let me guess." Marina cast a sideways glance at him. "You didn't think to hold onto something if you were gonna stand in a moving subway, did you?"

"…Shut up."

"Both Elizabeth and Valerie were in range of respawn pads." Gavin reached into his bag and pulled a manila folder into his lap, sifting through its contents until he found the paper he wanted. "So Elizabeth should've respawned at the Reef and Valerie should've respawned at the top of New Albacore Hotel. But neither victim even splatted at all." Ayla decided there were things in this world beyond her understanding and turned to the page on Gavin's lap, preferring to leave the scary murder talk to the profreshionals.

"That's…so weird." Marina's brow furrowed in consternation. "My only guess is that the Lightfisher messed with their body's ability to splat, but that's something you see out of dying cephalopods—not perfectly healthy ones that were shot." A long jumble of letters halted Ayla's reading, and she squinted her eyes to try and make sense of the foreign symbols. Were they supposed to mean "rescuatory failsafe?" "Repetitory foolproof?" What the heck?

"Um…" Ayla whispered in Octolish as she pointed at the super long phrase. "What does that say?"

"'Respiratory failure.'" Gavin whispered back. "It basically means they died of suffocation…wait." The Octoling froze, and Ayla could almost hear the gears in his head spinning into overtime. "Wait, you're a genius."

"…I pointed at two words." Ayla blinked back at him. "That I didn't know."

"Guys." Gavin spoke louder, grabbing the paper. "Both autopsy reports state the cause of death was suffocation, not the shot from the weapon. That's gotta be connected to how the Lightfisher got around the respawn pad."

"Suffocation?" Marina furrowed her eyebrows. "Then why is he shooting his victims?"

"It's about sendin' a MESSAGE!" Pearl punched the seat cushions with a little too much enthusiasm. Ayla scooted away just a tad.

"That's the part that's been so aggravating." The Octoling's eyes flicked back and forth as he scoured each line of text with a frustrated huff. "The toxicology report is supposed to give us a lead—but apparently nobody knows how to figure this out."

"Those cop dumbos don't have a 'Rina!" Pearl turned to Marina, tossing a crumpled piece of paper at the Octoling with a proud grin. "Yo, resident brainiac, what's something that could suffocate somebody and stop a respawn at the same time?"

"Hmm…" Marina's fingers were back to her chin, thinking. "If it's not a mechanical obstruction, then…maybe some sort of chemical agent? But what kind of antagonist would impact not only respiration but multiple autonomic functions in one fell—OH!" The Octoling bolted upright, snapping proud fingers into the air. "A CNS depressant!"

"…The heck did you just say, girl?" Pearl dipped her furrowed eyebrows at the DJ. "I ain't from Planet Nerd." Ayla snuck a silent sigh of relief; the ex-scout was grateful she wasn't the only one who didn't understand.

"Okay, uh, how do I explain this…" Marina stared at the tiny submarine that flew past the Metro's window, rubbing her fingers together. "So you know how your brain controls things like your breathing and splatting, right? It does that through chemicals called neurotransmitters; but if a toxin blocks these chemicals before they reach something like, say, the lungs—then the lungs won't breathe. Then the victim suffocates. And because both breathing and splatting are affected, it has to be a toxin that impacts things at the cerebrospinal level."

"…So it's a poison that stops all functions." Gavin ventured. "Including the ones you need to stay alive."

"Basically." Marina swished a hand at the agent. "That's probably a better way to put it. It's a neurotoxin that could paralyze the body as a whole."

Iso Padre's head snapped up to lock his beady sunglasses onto the DJ.

"Then yeah, that fits the murders." Gavin nodded along. "So the Lightfisher is using this mysterious neurotoxin to kill his victims—which means he has to have access to it. If we can identify the poison and figure out where it comes from, then he should be just a stone's throw away."

Quinn rubbed at his chin as he stared into space. "…Isn't poison a woman's weapon?"

"THE HECK YOU TRYNA SAY, YOU LITTLE SQUIT!?" Pearl flew out of her seat and barreled toward the already fleeing Inkling. "I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT A GIRL CAN REALLY DO!"

"I'MSORRYI'MSORRY!" Quinn bolted to the back of the Metro's car only to be tackled to the ground by an enraged tiny rapper.

"PEARL!" Marina's shout got the idol's attention, and a shake of the Octoling's head called Pearl's wrath off. Iso Padre tersely folded his many arms and shoved his gaze back to the suitcase of stuffed Octotroopers.

Gavin rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to Marina. "What's the poison called?"

"That…I don't know." Marina shrugged with a wince. "Sorry—there's a lot of toxins that could fit that bill. I might be more of an engineer than a biochemist, but I'm happy to try and help figure out what it is. I'd just need forensics to run some more tests and see if they can come up with the chemical structure."

"All right." Gavin nodded. "I'll see if I can get them to produce something helpful for once."

"So what's up?" Delta rapped two knuckles against the Cabin's tunnel wall. It didn't make any sound and left her wondering why she'd knocked on dirt to begin with.

"The Canyon." Marie didn't look up from the three monitors she'd plugged into her laptop, fingers still clacking away at her keyboard.

"Glad to see you're as sassy as ever." Delta overturned an empty bin and kicked it to Marie's desk, mildly surprised it held her weight as she sat down. The whole alcove was originally extra storage for rations and emergency flares, but had since turned into Marie's makeshift office as the piles of evidence grew and the analyst slowly moved in. "What did you want to talk about?"

Marie froze as the clacking halted to a stop. Delta heard her draw a deep breath as she rose from her chair and leaned against the front of the desk.

"I've been thinking a lot about what Callie said a few days ago." Agent 2 started fiddling with her collar—something she always did when anxious. "Remember when she mentioned the Lightfisher couldn't be McNotme? Because the police had already detained him the night Summers was killed?"

Delta nodded, encouraging Marie to continue.

"Well…" Marie's hand went to the back of her neck. "Remember how we always thought Octavio was responsible for Callie's brainwashing? …How is that possible if he was in the snowglobe the whole time?"

"I…" Delta's voice trailed off as she tried to think. Octavio's snowglobe was held at Octo Valley's Cabin before last year's campaign, but the Octarians couldn't have found found him without inside help from the NSS. So Callie had to be brainwashed before Octavio was rescued—that's how Delta knew the idol had been working for the enemy to begin with. But Marie was right; how could he have brainwashed Callie if she needed to be brainwashed in order for Octavio to brainwash her?

…What even was that last sentence?

"Uh, Two to Four?" Marie's fingers snapped Delta's broken brain back to reality. "You still with me?"

"No," Delta confessed, still reeling from trying to follow logic far above her nonexistent pay grade. "That's some weird chicken-and-egg paradox."

"Exactly!" Marie snapped her fingers again—but this time her eyes gleamed with relief. "You see it too! Okay, phew, glad I'm not just going crazy. There's definitely something going on here."

"How…" Delta paused again. "How did Octavio brainwash Callie? If he was in the snowglobe the whole time?"

"I'm starting to think he didn't. At all." Marie was back to her monitors. "That's the only way this makes sense. We always assumed it was his idea since it's such a huge move, but…" It was Marie's turn to trail off as her mouse frantically scrubbed through a video. "…But I've been looking through your camera's footage, and Octavio never actually claimed credit for Callie's brainwashing. He didn't say 'I remixed her.' He said 'she's the best remix I've ever seen.'"

"So you're saying…" Delta began, tentatively. "Someone else gave the order."

"Bingo." Marie replied, straightening her back into a stretch. "And once they used Callie's knowledge of our bases to find and rescue Octavio, they handed control back to him and you know the rest." The sound of exuberant footsteps made the strategist freeze, closing her beak and clenching her jaw as the sound paused on the other side of the earthen wall. It was only once the footsteps had started fading from earshot that Marie continued talking. "But someone else had to have the political power to pitch the idea and send a unit to squidnap Callie."

"…Holy squit, that's huge." Delta shifted in her seat, almost blown away by how something so crucially obvious had slipped past them for so long. "But why bring all of this up now? Is this Octarian sending more forces our way?"

"Not…yet, at least." Marie tilted her head to the side as her eyes narrowed in consternation. "I've been watching the Canyon very closely and I've seen next to no activity—nothing indicative of an intent to attack. Attacking now would be very stupid of them, and whoever this is definitely isn't stupid." Her golden eyes flicked into a sideways glance at her protege. "This mystery Octarian would've had to organize rushing the Cabin and stealing the Great Zapfish; you remember how frighteningly well that went."

Delta said nothing. That was the first time she'd heard Marie had been "watching the Canyon very closely," and she wasn't sure if that was a good sign for the Squid Sister's sanity. Some of the old veterans back at Echo's Edge were still scanning the ground for Great Turf War mines out of sheer hypervigilance.

"But last year's campaign started with Octavio in custody, and it ended exactly there—with Octavio in custody." Marie continued, straightening her neck back out. "Whoever ordered Callie's abduction is still out there, and nothing's stopping them from doing it again."

"And if they dare try again," Marie jabbed an angry finger at the screen. "I swear to cod I will personally slice this octoslob into tiny little pieces and deep-fry them so hard even their grave will be caked—" The green squid stopped herself, regaining her composure with a deep, steadying breath. "…My point is we've eased symptoms. Not solved problems."

"That…makes sense." Delta had to concede. Marie wasn't exactly looking for boogeyfish; there was reason to worry, and plenty more reason to be upset about it. "So what do you need me to do?"

"Right now I need you on recon." Marie folded her arms again. "We need info, for starters: who's in charge when Octavio's not around, what kinds of stuff can they order, how those orders are carried out—yadda yadda. Then we can start figuring out what to do, but it'd be a crazily bad idea to plan an attack with no idea of what we're getting ourselves into. Besides…" The green squid paused for several seconds, fidgeting with her collar again. "I didn't realize all this until recently, and that really bothers me. I'd feel a lot better if we turned all this unknown into known."

"…Understood." Delta nodded, more to herself than to Marie. Her mentor's behavior was starting to make sense; getting blindsided by loose ends about the old campaign had to feel disquieting. "I can round up the other agents and observe Cephalon HQ from the Canyon's rim."

"No!" Marie was quick to protest. "No, I just want you—not anyone else. This isn't related to the case and I don't want to pull cephalopower away from the investigation. Don't tell anybody about this, okay? Especially the cap'n. If Gramps catches wind of even a single hint that I found a loose end in Callie's capture, he'll throw a fit and drop the entire investigation to focus on this. That's not necessary, and he feels enough guilt already."

Delta opened her mouth but paused. Marie's words sounded outrageous, but…then she remembered the heavy tone in Cap'n Cuttlefish's directive: "Keep an eye on them." There was an invisible, guilty weight on the grandfather's shoulders when he spoke those words; perhaps it did make sense that the captain's reactions would be a concern.

"But I still don't think I should do this alone." Delta calmly rebutted; just because she agreed about the captain didn't mean she liked Marie's idea. "I know it worked last time but we shouldn't tempt fate twice. Waltzing into Cephalon myself isn't a good idea."

"Right, and I don't think we'd find much info spying in the Canyon anyway." Marie nodded back. "So I'm not sending you into Cephalon again. Our best bet is Inkopolis, actually."

Delta didn't respond, letting her raised eyebrows do the talking for her.

"Our best source of information isn't someone currently in Octarian service." Marie explained with a tiny, proud smile. "They're too hostile and too inaccessible—like you said. We'd have better luck with an Octoling who's defected and no longer under Octavio's influence. As far as I know, Callie's the only one who's lost memory of their service."

"Oh…" Delta smiled in understanding…finally. "You want to farm the refugees for inside information on their old superiors. That's smart."

"But we run the risk of getting outdated information; politicians tend to change things up faster than a game of musical chairs." Marie circled back around her desk to grab her latte. "Someone who's just heard the latest Calamari Inkantation would be best. Like that Ayla girl—she might be perfect." She paused for a sip. "Marina too. She might've come to the city after Three's mission, but Gramps' dossier states she was in Octavio's personal guard. If anyone's seen the inner workings of Octarian politics, it'll be Marina."

"Um, how…" Delta lifted a hesitant hand. "…How am I getting this info?" Agent 4's formal NSS training hadn't begun until Cap'n Cuttlefish returned from the now-pacified Deepsea Metro, and only touched on military interrogations in case an enemy soldier had been captured. Civilian questioning was an entirely different boardgame—about as similar as chess to the game of go.

"Right." Marie glanced to the ground with a smirk. "I forgot you prefer to shoot things instead. Catch 'em alone—ask for a hangout or something. Ask who's in charge when Octavio's not around. Who gives the orders? How were they carried out? But be discreet." Marie sent a stern glare back to her agent. "I wasn't kidding when I said Gramps'll freak if he hears about this, and I don't want our interviewees snitching on us."

"Understood." Delta rose to her feet. "At least I don't have to wear the stupid yellow jacket for secret missions."

Marie smirked warmly at the old memory. "…You still haven't let that go, have you."

A/N: I CAN FINALLY TALK ABOUT THIS NOW

Holy smokes, you have no idea how long I've been waiting to post that paradox reveal! Caught in a Lie's last author's note mentioned that there were secrets in the story that I hadn't gotten the chance to talk about, and this is one of them. Octavio's availability to brainwash Callie in the game was already a big stretch to begin with, but my adaptation made it straight-up impossible. So, instead of trying to sweep the plothole under the rug, I leaned into it:

Octavio was never really the main antagonist of Caught in a Lie. It was always someone else who set everything into motion.

I'd hinted at this a few times but never fully came forward with it until now. I'm so excited to talk about everything this little subplot is going to cover, but I'm gonna save it for when the story gets there.

For now, here's some of the notes from the pre-rewrite Chapter 6:

-I swear I'm nice to Ayla later. I swear.

-Detective Alex's comment about celebrities is because he was also the detective in charge of Callie's missing person case during Caught in a Lie. I didn't want to make a new detective and then realized I'd saddled him with two difficult cases involving the idols XD.

-I love how absolute chaos ensues whenever Pearl starts talking XD

-Also shoutout to Moon for noticing the shift in Callie's behavior—I always thought that was a minor detail so I'm pleasantly surprised that's actually noticeable to the reader and not just the person who put it there. Yes, her attitude was intentionally calmer post-Finale but now that she's had a year to recover she's (more or less) back to catapulting off the walls every other second.

-And yes, we've also got the token neuroscience rant! I probably just gave Caught in a Lie people Aftermath flashbacks…

Hopefully this one's a lot less in-your-face and a lot easier to understand. Maybe it's a good thing that I ended up scrapping the Octo Expansion rewrite, because I probably would've turned everybody's brain to mush with all of that sciencing XD