Ayla's alarm clock howled its depressing violins at two in the morning. Two. In. The. Freaking. Morning. She didn't know what possessed the others to take a "night shift" past 12 AM, but neither did the ex-scout really complain when Gavin filled her in; even Salmonids should know hours this early were meant for sleeping. Maybe they could just sneak in, skip the whole tennis-except-frying-pans-and-you're-the-ball part, and get out before the Salmonids turned her into an unrecognizable pile of scrambled eggs.

The Octoling slid a hand under her pillow and felt around for her shellphone, pulling it out and silencing the saddening music with a tap of her thumb. Ayla gathered what little energy she had with a determined sigh, pushed herself into a plank…and then crashed face-first back onto the mattress. Five more minutes.

…Thirty minutes later, Ayla had finally dragged herself out of bed and into the bathroom. She thanked her lucky stars for last night's foresight of hanging already picked-out clothes on the towel rack—all she had to do was make sure they weren't inside out. Once she'd changed into leggings and a purple octo tee, Ayla pulled a grape Takoroka windbreaker from the coatrack and was out the door…after grabbing her black bandanna for good luck.

The ex-scout wasn't far from the hotel when trained ears detected footsteps crunching through frosted grass. Ayla whirled to her left as hazel eyes scoured the darkness, finally recognizing the outline of an Octoling wearing a mohawk and a leather jacket as he slid towards her.

"…Sorry." Yuri spoke in Octolish as he slowly, cautiously, lifted a placating hand. "Didn't mean to spook you, fellow traitor."

Curiosity got the better of the refugee as her shoulders began to relax, tilting her head ever-so-slightly to the side. "Fellow…traitor?"

"Mm-hmm." Yuri slipped his hand into the pocket of his dark jeans and advanced a few steps. "That's what we are, aren't we? Traitors abandoning our loved ones to thrive in the city of our enemies?" The Grizzco manager paused for a breath as he caught up with her, pulling the hand back out to motion for the girl to walk with him. "Hope you don't mind if I tag along, headin' to the office myself."

Ayla spared an overwhelmed blink, finding herself already walking alongside him. "I-I guess not."

"But 'thrive' is a pretty strong word for what we ended up with." Something tumbled out of Yuri's pocket and clinked against the dark cement. He scooped up the vial of clear liquid and carefully slipped it into the inside pocket of his leather jacket before carrying on as if nothing had happened. "I mean, you've experienced it, right? Breaking your back just to find a foothold in this expensive-as-carp city while the Inklings do nothing but obsess over four hundred different kinds of shirts and hats and shoes? Not even a single shred of welcome, I'm telling ya."

Ayla kept staring at the last spot she saw the liquid. The refugee might not have been perfectly familiar with Inkopolis culture, but she definitely knew that water didn't come in a sealed test tube.

"You're stuck toiling forever or some rich Inkling comes along and bails you out." The sound of Yuri clearing his throat brought the girl back to their conversation. "Either way you have no control over your own success here."

Ayla deliberately stayed quiet this time. Her fellow Octoling had hit the nail on the head; it had been over a year since she'd fled to the so-called promised land and Ayla was still dependent on the only relief program available, and even that had to be set up by another refugee. But even Marina's deep pockets couldn't provide for every Octoling's finances, so covering the rest was still left to each refugee with little option besides unskilled labor.

"Ah, well…" Yuri let out a sigh, slowing his gait to a halt just outside Grizzco's main office. "I guess we got what they'd intended for us. Traitors never win, am I right?"

"At any rate…" He spared a quick, apologetic glance at his companion. "Duty calls. Good luck on your shift today." Yuri vanished deeper into the office, leaving Ayla alone in Grizzco's lobby.

She took a breath and pulled herself to the girls' room, grabbing a key and opening one of the lockers to a pair of fishing waders, green gloves, and a cap topped with two halves of a tin can. Why did a hat need such ridiculous accessories? The Octoling had no clue; Yuri might've reasoned that it "protects against the local environment," but Ayla could personally confirm that conspiracy-grade tin foil hadn't helped at all when the local environment slammed a frying pan into her face.

…Which was still gonna happen tonight, wasn't it.

"Nervous again?" Delta walked in and casually began fiddling with the adjacent lock, tugging its key out of the hole.

Alya looked up; she hadn't expected the Inkling to strike up a conversation, let alone read her out of the blue. "…Yes?"

"Well—if you can't beat fear, do it scared." Agent 4 opened the locker's door with a smooth pull as she stashed the key inside her pant pockets. "It's not like fear can stop you, anyway."

Ayla stared back at the agent as her brain whirred into overdrive in a frantic attempt to logic its way through the agent's words.

"Ok, look." Delta paused her rummaging through the locker's contents, pivoting a half step toward Ayla when she noticed the metaphorical steam coming out of the Octoling's rounded ears. "Think of it like this: what're you afraid of?"

Ayla's brain managed to pause with enough RAM left to hazard a guess. "…Not…liv-ing?"

"Looks like you avoided that fine last time." Delta spared a hand to gesture at the Octoling as she grabbed the orange waders inside her locker.

"No, no no no." Ayla scoffed, remembering the 745 splats and huddling in her bed to hide from all the aches and pains. If her last shift could be graded, she was certain her performance would net her a gigantic F—and that certainly didn't stand for "fine."

"Are your hearts still beating?" Delta dipped her nose at the Octoling as she pulled the waders over her leggings, feeling for the buckle near her shoulder and fastening it with a click.

"Yes?"

"Your lungs still breathing?" Other buckle.

"Yes…"

"Then you've survived." The agent shrugged as she reached into her locker for the Grizzco hat and gloves; one more once-over and she was ready. "There's no need to make it so difficult; you'd be surprised how little you actually need in life." And with a supportive fist-to-shoulder-bump, Ayla's old enemy was on her way to the company's docks.

Ayla blinked her way through the next few seconds. Agent 4 was…right? Yes? No? Maybe so? Surely things couldn't be that simple; everyone else ran around like a headless chicken fish over 98 million other concerns. And avoiding the painful limp back home would help the staying alive part…right?

…Apparently not. The agent was definitely right about one thing: Ayla was in fact still alive. And with Grizzco's private network of respawn pads—which were ten times more numerous than the entire Octarian government's—was that really going to change anytime soon? No; so did she really have to be afraid of whatever the oversized crocodiles could throw at her?

…No? Was that what Delta was trying to tell her? The Inkling's words were hard to believe, but…the refugee also couldn't argue with them. They nagged at the back of Ayla's mind throughout the entire boat ride to Marooner's Bay, the entire shift itself, and the entire walk back home until she settled back into bed for the other two hours she was supposed to be asleep for. But it wasn't until the Octoling's amber eyes had begun to close that something began to stir deep within her soul.

Pain may be pain, fear may be fear; but neither could kill. And for some reason Ayla hadn't noticed their harmlessness until now.

"So wait," Delta planted a foot on the sensor to keep the station's door from sliding into her; the day's agenda dictated the early morning Salmon Run had to be followed by observing Ares' interrogation at the police station. "Run that by me again?"

"Last year we hid in Octarian territory until the perfect opportunity to strike." Marie twirled around to face her, not bothering to close the yellow parasol resting over her shoulder. "The Lightfisher hides in our city and waits for the perfect opportunity to strike." She adjusted the parasol to the other shoulder as they began walking toward the back of the lobby, taking care to keep it between the crowded reception desk and the idol's very recognizable face. "When we went for a stronghold, we moved quickly—attacking out of the blue and retreating long before their superiors even knew the place needed reinforcing. The Lightfisher strikes out of the blue and is long gone before the police even know they need to respond." Marie slid ahead to plant a hand on the doorknob, facing her protege. "Does any of that seem a little…odd to you?"

Delta thought for a moment but shrugged. "He could just be sneaking around—most civilian murderers are skittish and stealthy. He might not necessarily be copying our old campaign." Marie's golden eyes trailed off and her beak eventually frowned into an admitting grunt.

"But still…" She finally turned the knob, allowing Delta through the door before letting it swing to a close behind them. "It's the way he does it that gets me. Regular murderers tend to see the victim as their enemy, and usually their kills are out of convenience or impulsivity; they're not this hyperaware of the police and the bigger picture. But with the Lightfisher, it almost feels like he waits until it's tactically advantageous against the cops—and then he moves tactically. Almost like it's intentional."

"Ok so…he might be adapting some sort of guerrilla maneuver." Delta conceded a slow nod as they walked through the blue-tinted hallway. "Don't most refugees have some level of military experience? He could be building off of what he's learned from the army."

"Four." Marie's serious tone made the Inkling pause and face her mentor. "The Octarian military isn't known for guerrilla hit-and-run tactics. That's us, not them."

"…Really, I wouldn't worry about it so much." Delta pulled the door open. "It's just too much of a stretch right now." Marie opened her beak to speak, but…

"There they are!" Quinn waved to the girls from inside the room; Captain Cuttlefish extended a wrinkled hand over the agent's shellphone on the table. "You guys have good timing—One's got her earbuds in and she's ready to go." Marie's beak closed into a clenched jaw.

"You're right." Marie tapped a hand on Delta's shoulder as she slipped past the agent and into the room—and the Inkling was back to business with a huff. "All right; let's see what we can get outta this guy." She glanced back at Agent 3, stopping in front of the window overlooking the interrogation room. "You reminded Cal about the disguise, right?"

Quinn nodded as he passed a radio transmitter to the idol.

"Good." Marie inspected the radio. "The more he thinks we're cops, the better."

"Three," Gavin glanced up from his laptop. "Your shellphone needs some babysitting."

"…Hm?" Quinn turned a shoulder, then made a mad dash towards the table. "Whoa there 'cap, what do ya need my shellphone for?!"

Marie smirked and Delta turned back to the window, watching the Octoling on the other side of the glass bounce his knee under the table.

"Hey!" Delta watched a familiar, black-tentacled Inkling burst through the door across from the Octoling—clad in a black police suit and sunglasses. "You're Ares, right?"

Ares only replied with a scoff, flicking a thumb under the flap of his green jacket; Delta could see the wispy black lines peeking over his wrist. She'd seen enough of that in Echo's Edge to know what it meant: this guy had a whole sleeve of tattoos.

"'K, cool!" Callie shut the door with a chirpy chirrup, entirely unfazed by Ares' attitude. "Sorry to bring ya in like this, but we just gotta—wait what happened to your hand?"

The Octoling glanced at the bandaged knuckles on his right hand and quickly slipped them under the table. "…Smacked it. In training."

"Trainin', huh?" Callie's tone was casual, as if she was just carrying small talk. "What kinda trainin'?" The squid slid into the chair opposite his, opened a bag of chips, and offered him one.

"Ring fighting." Ares declined her offer with a stern flick of his hand; Callie shrugged and popped the chip into her beak. "You punch a lot of squit there; that's all it is. Just get on with this so you can stop wasting my time." Callie lifted a placating hand, still chewing.

"Here we go—watch closely." Marie's hand rested on Delta's shoulder as her voice dipped into a quiet, stealthy whisper. "This is how you do an interrogation."

"Uh…" Callie patted her pockets until she froze, lifting a sheepish finger into the air. "Just a sec—I forgot something. I'll be right back, promise!" Callie excused herself from the room with another apologetic chuckle, reappearing a few seconds later with a composition notebook. She paused to flip through its pages, swear, and run out the door again.

"Well…" Marie winced as her cousin left to retrieve the second thing she'd forgotten in the span of two minutes. "…This is how Callie does an interrogation."

"Okay, third time's the charm!" The sound of a door blasting open brought Delta's senses back to the interrogation, watching the disguised idol barrel back into the room with both the notebook and a manila folder. "So! I'm Detective Chippu with Inkopolis PD, and we need a lil' bit of your help in figuring out what happened. I'm sorry for your loss," Callie ended with a sympathetic pout.

"It's whatever." Ares brushed her off with a stern flick of his hand. "I didn't really know her that well, we weren't friends or anything."

"…Really now?" Callie raised a skeptical eyebrow, flicking her notebook open with a well-placed finger. "How'd ya know her?"

"Work." Ares was quick to reply. "We'd only hung out a few times; I wasn't even around when she died."

Callie paused for a surprised blink, unclicking a pen and poising it over the notebook. "Where were you?"

"In Grizzco's armory, waiting for the last Salmon Run shift to bring their weapons back so I could clean 'em up and put them back into service." Ares replied with a slower, indifferent nod. "You can ask my buddy Lars, he was with me."

Callie started scribbling. "Who's Lars?"

Ares gave a sharp scoff. "My buddy."

"What's his phone number?" Callie ignored him and popped another chip into her beak—a lifetime with Marie must've made her immune to sass.

"That's...odd." Marie furrowed her eyebrows on the other side of the glass. "He's already providing not only an alibi—but also someone who can vouch for him—before we even ask. They don't usually do that."

"Does that mean he's guilty?" Delta curiously turned to her mentor. "Eager to cover his own hide?"

"It means he's walked into this with a game plan," Marie offered a small shrug. "But even the guilty ones aren't so prepared—they'll talk but they'll be very reserved about it. This guy barged straight into the details like an orca in a coral reef."

"…Huh." Delta turned thoughtful blue eyes back to the glass, running her lip across a fang. "But the fact that he even has a plan seems suspicious."

"It fits the Lightfisher's profile too—I wouldn't be surprised if the guy's already spent months on what to say if he ever was brought in." Marie nodded along. "But as for the alibi itself…" Marie pressed a thumb against the transmit button on her radio. "Grill him on that." Callie acknowledged her cousin with a discreet wink over the rim of her sunglasses.

"…Let's just go back to what you were doin' that night, real quick." Callie began as she crunched into another chip. "Hangin' out at the armory is something you do while you're at work?"

"Of course it is." Angry brown eyes bore into the pink squid. "I already said I'm the weapons guy. Pay attention."

Delta could watch Callie's cheek bulge with a clenched jaw, but the idol otherwise didn't break her cheer. "Cool, so when was your last late-night shift?"

The Octoling glanced away to think about it—which was the first time he'd stopped glaring. "About a week ago."

"Oh so I guess it was Lars' shift the day Valerie was actually murdered and you were just hangin' out with him?" The disguised idol slid her arms onto the table, interlocking her fingers and locking eyes with Ares.

Ares froze, his dumbfounded brown eyes staring back at Callie before the Octoling regained his composure. "U-uh, yeah of course—I said that already. Are you deaf or something? We're just going in circles; move onto something actually productive."

"M'kay—my bad my bad." Callie raised a placating hand. She spent several seconds finishing her chips, then casually reached down and opened a second bag, popping another few into her beak. "What's Lars' job?"

Ares paused for a moment before deciding to answer. "He's a warehouse worker for Grizzco."

Callie couldn't help a baffled blink this time. "…You mean the Grizzco ones by the shoreline?"

The Octoling nodded without thinking.

"What does he do there?" Callie realized her pen had been upside down the whole time, flipping it around to actually start scribbling into her notebook. Marie rolled her eyes with an exasperated "finally."

Ares paused to furrow his eyebrows. "He tallies all the Golden Eggs that come in and makes sure they're going to the right place. But what does that have to do with Val's squit?" Callie instead snuck a knowing look at the camera over the rim of her sunglasses.

"Yeah yeah, I saw that too." Marie muttered back, holding down the transmit button on her radio. "Why on the pinkfish's green earth would a warehouse worker have a shift at the armory the night of Valerie's murder. Good job, Cal."

"Ohh…" Delta's eyebrows raised in understanding. "That's what she was doing with all those questions. She was poking holes in his alibi."

"Exactly." Marie took her thumb off the radio, giving her protege a sideways glance. "The trick is to get them to walk right into it on their own. But you gotta be sneaky about it—because a guilty one will only talk for as long as they think they can get away with it." Marie folded her arms with a tiny, proud smirk. "Cal in particular likes to play her faults up to lure her victims—I mean, interviewees—into a false sense of security."

"Is that why she forgot the notebook at the start?" Delta curiously turned to her mentor.

"It's why she made a bigger stink out of it than usual." Marie's reply shifted into a knowing chuckle. "But nah, she genuinely forgot the darn thing." Delta smirked and turned back to the window…classic Callie.

"Okie-dokie!" The disguised Agent 1 began gathering up the papers. "I'm all set now—you can get outta here and go back to punching things with your buddy Lars."

"Finally." Ares rose with a low groan. "Thanks for wasting my time."

"So…" Gavin's beak finally emerged from the hand that had been stroking his chin. "Is it just me or did Ares botch that whole thing?"

"Oh, totally—Callie straight-up slaughtered him in there." Quinn leaned in his chair with an amused grin, hands clasped behind his head. "His alibi is absolute bullsquit."

"And I couldn't help but notice how certain things lined up." Marie twirled a pensive finger through her purple hairclip. "Ares mentioned he's Grizzco's armorer and that he likes combat sports; that means he's very familiar with weapons and he knows how to smack somebody hard enough to bruise their temple."

"And his hand." Delta thought aloud. "Didn't Ayla's official statement mention that the Lightfisher tried to hit her but wound up punching a wall?"

"I'm pretty sure, yeah." Quinn's orange eyebrows furrowed deeper. "And with Ares' pre-prepped alibi, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone else who fits the bill this closely."

"Right." Marie crossed her arms. "Cal just made him squirm big time—and Valerie's murder shows us that the Lightfisher switches from careful to hasty when he's uncomfortable. So," she tapped a finger against her elbow, "if Ares and the Lightfisher are indeed the same Octoling, then we should start seeing hastier murders. And if we're lucky, he might make just the kind of mistake we need for a guilty conviction."

A sunglasses-less Callie slipped into the room, quietly sidling beside Marie.

"Hey," she elbowed her cousin with a whisper, "what'd I miss?"

Marie's response was immediate: "Vampire mermaids have taken over as our great overlords and now the sun is about to explode."

"Oh okay cool." Callie nodded along with a casual shrug, turning back to the conversation to figure it out herself.

"You squiddos might be forgettin' a few things." Captain Cuttlefish hoisted himself out of his chair, planting his Bamboozler cane onto the tiled floor with a deep thump. "Time fer a little pop quiz—if the Lightfisher goes outta his way to cover his tracks, then why hasn't he made a move on our only witness?"

Delta kept quiet; a look at the others told her they were just as stumped as she was.

"…No takers?" A knowing smirk crept through the old captain's beak. "Why do most o' the victims yap 'bout missing bonuses 'fore they die? Why's the tyke even killin' ta begin with, and why's Grizzco so connected to all this? What's the most important thing tha' we've forgotten in all o' this excitement?"

Silence.

"Know. Thy. Enemy." Captain Cuttlefish stomped his cane against the floor with each word. "If ya can't figure out what they want, then ya won't know when they've been beaten. And everythin' is connected; all o' these loose ends tell us there's somethin' bigger goin' on than just who killed whom. I wanna hear less 'bout who killed whom and more o' why he's killin'."

"So!" The old Inkling leaned against the conference table, brown eyes scanning expectantly across his splatoon. "Which one o' you whippersnappers wants 'ta take a stab at the Lightfisher's motive?"

It was several moments before Marie crossed her arms and muttered, more to herself than anyone else. "What do Elizabeth and Valerie have in common…?"

Agents 3 and 8 glanced at each other, perplexed.

"They're both girls?" Quinn shrugged his shoulders.

"They're both Salmon Runners?" Gavin scratched at his mohawk.

Delta narrowed her eyes, drawing her hands to her chin. "…They're both asking the same questions."

Cap'n Cuttlefish's brown eyes glanced at Agent 4 and a small, encouraging smile curved its way through his beard. "Why d'ya say that?"

"Grizzco's lack of cooperation with the police has always bothered me." Delta drew a breath, emboldened by the captain's encouragement. "Someone's been murdering their employees and they don't seem to care. In fact, they seem to care more about keeping their secrets a secret—especially from the cops. And then this 'acquaintance' from the company shows up at Valerie's house two days before she's murdered?" She turned to Gavin and Quinn. "Remember that boat captain who was so tight-lipped that he barely answered innocent questions about the Restricted Zone? Remember all his emphasis about keeping quiet and not asking about the company?"

Gavin and Quinn nodded.

"What if…" Delta leaned forward. "What if Elizabeth and Valerie weren't keeping quiet? What if they were shoving their noses in places Grizzco didn't want them to be?"

"Oooh, look at Detective Delta over here!" Callie looped an arm around Delta and shook the younger agent's shoulders. "That makes sense. We'd have to do some digging to make sure it checks out, but we can totally run with this."

"Awrighty—then we're done fer today." Captain Cuttlefish tapped the floor with his Bamboozler. "Dismissed, go on an' git outta here." The steel-walled room filled with sounds of fidgets and shuffles as the NSS began gathering their things before dispersing.

But Callie began poking her cousin's shoulder instead. "Hey, do you have any change for the vend—"

"Shut. The. Carp. Up." Marie whisper-hissed back with a haphazard swat at the annoying finger. "How do you still find the worst times to ask me that even when we're off the air; I just watched you casually eat two bags of chips in front of a potential serial killer. Which—by the way—isn't normal. You're not allowed a third."

"Hey!" Callie feigned a hurt pout. "I'm normal sometimes!"

"Ah yes," Marie deadpanned back, "attempting to write a whole page before realizing the pen is upside down is a perfectly normal occurrence that I find myself in daily."

"…Shut up." Callie mumbled dejectedly, and then she was distracted by her grandfather's yawn. "Ya lookin' sleepy there, Gramps. How 'bout we head home for a nice little nap?"

"Did you say 'rap?'" Cap'n Cuttlefish scratched at an ancient ear—much to Callie's abject horror. "Oh yes, I'd love to workshop some rhymes—"

"NONONONONO I said nap!" The pink squid was bustling her grandfather out of the room as fast as geriatrically possible. "N-A-P; the thing where you lie down and take a snooze and don't make a sound."

"But there's still forty-five minutes 'til naptime…" Delta could hear the captain's faint protest as they disappeared out the door.

Marie watched them leave with an amused smirk, then her golden-eyed gaze turned back to the only other agent left in the room. "So—you know what to do with Ayla now?"

"…I think so?" Delta's answer was very tentative; she had zero confidence in deliberately working with the subtler undertones of conversing with an opponent. "Ask questions and look for holes, right?"

The green idol nodded as she swiped the notebook and folder that Callie had forgotten to take with her, then glanced at Delta's obvious unease with a knowing half-smile. "Don't worry, we'll get you good and ready for this."

A/N: So you might've noticed that some of these author's notes have changed with the rewrite and some haven't, and that's because I honestly don't know what to do with them XD. Some of the original ones are super funny to reread, and others wouldn't make sense in an updated version, and this was one of the latter.

However I did save most of the old comments about the chapter:

-Callie and Marie's talk towards the end is a reference to one of their dialogues during Inkopolis News Time, where Callie would suddenly ask for change for the vending machine and Marie would just be like "…you do know we're still live, right?"

-According to a little sleuthing through Inkipedia, there's about 446 pieces of gear in Splatoon 2—hence the line "over four hundred different kinds of shirts and hats and shoes"

-A headless chicken fish is an actual thing that exists—it's a nickname for a specific genus of sea cucumber but DON'T LOOK IT UP, I've learned my lesson from last time XD

-I'm not sure I want to know what a vampire mermaid would look like. Or how they'd manage to enslave a species that can't touch seawater…

-Also, according to Google Translate, "chippu" is Japanese for "chip." Callie literally named herself after one of her favorite foods.