"Okay, last night was…nothing like we'd expected." Quinn dropped a flabbergasted palm onto the Cabin's conference table…and a wayward picture slid onto the floor.

"And everything we hadn't." Gavin tore his blank, overwhelmed stare from the litany of disorganized notes scattered across the table. He stayed like that for another second, swore with an agitated huff, and began frantically ordering the papers into a neat row.

"How is a map marked with thumbtacks, a bunch of harpoons, and a list of numbers supposed to tie into a murder case?" Delta plucked her own notes from Gavin's hand—a slim packet one-thousandth the size of his. "I've been really trying, but I don't see how any of this could prove that Yuri's been killing cephalopods as the Lightfisher." Agent 4 looked to Cap'n Cuttlefish's seat at the head of the table. He had dozed off.

"Well," Quinn crossed his arms and flicked a fang across his lip, lost in thought. "The thumbtacks could be, uh…where he makes his weapons? OR—" he excitedly snapped his fingers, "—or maybe that's where he starts tailing the victim!"

"…I don't think so." Gavin slowly shook his head. He opened his second overweight binder—which, to Delta's weapon-oriented brain, could probably kill somebody if thrown with enough force. "The Lightfisher probably tailed Elizabeth from the bar the night she was killed, and that wasn't on of the locations marked on the map."

Delta's ears finally noticed the distinct lack of input from her left. She glanced across Marie's empty seat to check on Agent 1…only to find the pink squid staring into space, slowly swaying to some absentminded tune in her head. Delta suppressed a half-relieved smirk at how quickly the distractible idol had detached from the conversation—after the last migraine, an inattentive Callie was a welcome return to normal Callie.

"To be honest," Gavin continued, licking his thumb and flipping through a few dozen pages, "I'm not sure everything we found even relates to the murders. None of my statistical analyses predicted harpoons, cryptic lists or anything like that. In fact—assuming he was the Lightfisher—we had an 86-percent chance of finding the poison in Yuri's apartment…and that's with the 95-percent confidence interval. Numbers don't lie," the Octoling agent paused as he crossed his arms, "so if we didn't find the poison, then are we sure that Yuri's the Lightfisher?"

"Wait, harpoons?" Callie sprung from her inattentive trance. "The heck was he doin' with those?"

"That's a good question." Agent 8 chuckled back, until his eyebrows slowly began to furrow. "Uh, wait, it actually is. What is he using a harpoon for, anyway? Aren't those a bit obsolete now?" Delta was about to ask how on earth the Octoling had gotten through life without learning what a harpoon was, but shut her mouth when the words "amnesia" and "literally living underground" hit her like a train.

"DON'T WORRY, EIGHT!" Sheldon exploded out of the room that housed the Cabin's water tank. "I can tell you alllll about harpoons!"

Callie's eyes went wide and her tentacle ribbon drooped in dread. "Wait, no—"

"Harpoons were invented well over ninety thousand years ago so ancient hyoo-mans could catch fish more effectively—but in order to understand why our ancestors reverse-engineered the design, we have to go all the way back to when the universe first exploded in an event known as the Big Bang…"

Callie's head thunked against the table with an agonized groan. Cap'n Cuttlefish, on the other hand, was still snoring away.

"…Anyways," Agent 4 tried to wrangle the conversation back into something more productive. "What Eight said makes sense. I've got two jars of peanut butter in my pantry right now, and that's got nothing to do with the fact that I'm an NSS agent." She glanced between her wafer-thin packet and Gavin's two binders; sometimes Delta couldn't help but wonder if she was actually supposed to be writing as much as him…he seemed to come up with all the good points, anyway.

Quinn stretched an arm across the table, accidentally skewing Gavin's neat ordering. "Yo Four, can I see that list of numbers you found?" Delta obediently flipped to the page and slid her notes over.

"…the modern fishing industry now loads harpoons into deck-mounted launchers to hunt much larger fish and sell their meat to grocery stores. Because we all gotta eat something, right?" Sheldon barely even paused for a breath. "And bigger fish mean bigger portions per catch, so big-game fishing is popular for crews with enough guts to go toe-to-toe with a Maws in her home turf…"

"A Maws?" Gavin disbelievingly turned to Agent 3. "Is that even legal?"

"It's…questionable, but that doesn't stop the sketchier companies from fishing it." Quinn's eyes widened with an exasperated huff. "I mean look at Grizzco and their Golden Eggs." He glanced through Delta's photo of the "Legacy" notes. "See here's the thing: you could make the peanut butter argument for the harpoons, but this—" he accidentally flicked the page, "—isn't the sort of thing that cephalopods scribble for funsies. This has gotta mean something."

Callie resurfaced from her puddle on the table, lifting her chin onto her hands. "Then wha'd'ya think it means?"

"Uhh…" Quinn's confidence evaporated quickly. "Okay, I might not have thought that far ahead." He stared at the thing for another second, then shook his head with a chuckle. "…Yeah, no—unless it's a bunch of phone numbers and this is all some sort of lover's quarrel, I got no clue how it relates to the murders."

Delta leaned away from him. "Considering how there's eleven murders in total, I'd hope it's not a lover's quarrel."

Marie walked in through the doorway.

"Oh cod," Callie covered her mouth to stifle a joking snicker. "Eleven dead lovers? How would that even work? Is this whole thing comin' from some sorta company-wide orgy—"

Marie turned around and walked back out.

"WAIT NO I CAN EXPLAIN!" Callie sprang from her seat and charged after her cousin. "It was a joke, I swear!"

"I'D LIKE TO KEEP MY SANITY, THANK YOU!" Agent 4 could hear Marie frantically scrambling up the ladder. "I don't care whatever context that was in, I'm not having any part of it!"

Delta glanced across the table. Between Marie's late night at the radio station, Sheldon's still-ongoing rant, Cuttlefish snoring in his chair, Gavin's double-binder notes, and Callie's out-of-context line…she couldn't blame the idol for turning tail and bolting straight out the door.

But apparently Marie's sanity wasn't good enough for Callie, who'd retrieved the renegade cousin within moments—complete with an arm twisted into submission. She deposited Agent 2 into her chair and plopped beside her, staring up at the green squid with wide, innocent eyes. "So! What now, Miss Strategist?"

Marie wasted no time in glaring at the still-rambling horseshoe crab. "Sheldon. Shut up or I'll snipe you." The crab froze mid-sentence, eyes as big as saucers; his tiny little legs couldn't have sped out of the room faster.

Cap'n Cuttlefish woke with a snort, tuning back into the conversation as if he'd been listening all along.

"…Anyways, I'm starting to agree that Yuri might not be our guy after all—for all we know, those harpoons and thumbtacks could just mean that he's part of those fishing gigs that Sheldon mentioned." Quinn began to stand, but smacked his knee on the table and stumbled back into his chair. "The idea that the Lightfisher is a Grizzco employee never made sense to me. Killing Salmon Runners means fewer Golden Eggs each shift, which means fewer profits or whatever the carp Grizzco is doing with them. You guys have seen how Mr Grizz gets about his Golden Eggs," he flicked a hand to Delta and Gavin, "I don't think the guy would jeopardize his quotas like this. We might've misunderstood the Lightfisher's motive; until we have actual, solid proof that directly links Yuri to the Lightfisher, we should hit the drawing board again."

"And y'know what," Quinn swept his fingers through his ponytail, not even daring to stand again. "while we're at it, can we just drop this whole facade that we know what we're doing? Because we don't—we really, really don't."

Delta turned her surprise to the boys on the other side of the table, pointing a finger at herself. "It's…not just me?"

"Oh thank cod…" Gavin's relieved head smacked against his open binder.

"Yeah, no." Quinn shook his head with a scoff. "We're military ops, not police detectives—and it shows. Heck, we started this investigation arguing over the simple basics of how to catch a killer. We don't even have an official forensics team; Eight had to think fast to get Marina's help for the poison, and even then she's a DJ instead of a forensic scientist. At some point we gotta admit that we just…don't know what to do here."

Delta couldn't agree more. The Echo's Edge native was a sheepdog through and through; she'd spent a good chunk of her life training for the military, which meant trekking far from home and hunting enemy wolves in a very obvious uniform. Even though joining the NSS had been an unexpected change of plans, she had defended her flock by running through kettles and shooting at enemy wolves in a very obvious uniform. The line between friend and foe had been crystal clear, and Agent 4 hadn't needed to worry about who was a wolf and who was a sheep.

She had zero experience with a wolf in sheep's clothing.

"…Yeah, you're right." Marie's voice was low, quiet, and resigned—Callie immediately dropped into a sympathetic pout. "We're really floundering in the dark here, aren't we." She gave a defeated huff and reached into her kimono.

Cap'n Cuttlefish's eyebrows furrowed but he kept quiet.

"'If your opponent is of choleric temper, seek to irritate him.'" Marie recited as she set a purple-sleeved book onto the table. "So when I saw how Valerie's resistance forced the Lightfisher into leaving more clues, I thought we could use Ares' interrogation to irritate the Lightfisher and force him into making a mistake. But Duncan's murder was as calm as a sea cucumber—because why would the Lightfisher feel threatened if we'd questioned the wrong Octoling?"

"Um," Gavin quickly raised a protesting finger. "Sea cucumbers are not—" he froze at Delta's silencing glare. She could tell that her mentor needed a venting session instead of an argument.

"And meanwhile, the Lightfisher's done nothing but run circles around our own incompetency." Marie flicked an exasperated hand. "He strikes at bedtime—so the trail's frozen cold before someone even notices the victim's missing." She paused for a breath and Callie tore her gaze away, angrily crossing her arms and grumbling to herself. "But neither can we track the murder weapon because not only is it unregistered, it's also custom-made for the black market. And we can't depend on sightings either; because the Lightfisher's attire betrays nothing but a male Octoling with a mohawk. That's…" she gestured at Gavin's head, "…so many Octolings around here."

Gavin quizzically looked to Agent 3.

The tactician ran a hand through her silver tentacles with an overwhelmed sigh. "The Lightfisher's attention to detail is clearly one of his best qualities, and he's using it to box us out of useful clues. An experienced detective with ten years on would find this case difficult to crack—let alone a military unit that only dabbles in law enforcement once every few years."

"At some point, I just gotta face it…" Marie's fang bit at her lip. "Last year's ace-in-the-hole is today's failure, and none of my tactics have lifted the stranglehold the Lightfisher has on the investigation." She tapped a disheartened finger against the book's purple fabric. "Maybe…maybe this isn't as reliable as I thought."

"Oh come now, don't be so hard on yerself." Cap'n Cuttlefish's gentle support sounded like a parent comforting their hatchling; kind but determined eyes skipped across the other agents. "Workin' wit' the law's a different board game—'course you folks ain't gotten the hang o' things just yet. But jus' 'cause ya know checkers don't mean ya can't learn chess; keep addit, an' we still might learn enough 'bout this guy 'ta catch 'im." Marie eventually sighed with a reluctant nod, and the captain nudged his chin at the analog clock on the Cabin's earthen wall. "But ya oughta check the time."

Marie glanced up. "Oh, yeah. Cal and I have to get to the studio." She swept up a few papers and Callie began bouncing excitedly. "I guess we'll stop here for today, then." The green Squid Sister stood up, stretched her legs with a petite yawn, and finally meandered her way towards the exit—where Callie was already waiting like an excited puppy eager for a walk.

"I wanna go make things." Callie poked her cousin along with a bright grin. "Can we go make things? I wanna go make things."

"Alright, alright—I heard ya the first time." Marie swiped the prodding finger from her kimono with the beginnings of a smirk. "Let's go."

"Yay!"

"Hi there, can I get a largesse green tea frappuccino with three pumps of skinny mocha, soy to the second line, three pumps of caramel drizzle, two pumps of hazelnut, four very heaping scoops of matcha and about five organic sugars—but not the fake regular ones because those are the devilfish incarnate…"

…And that was the point where Ayla began to regret her return to the cafe. She didn't even need to glance at the size display—right in front of this customer's face mind you—to know that Icthy's Cafe didn't stock largesse-sized cups. No cafe in this city did. Because it doesn't exist.

The Inkling mom rambled on about how the bourgeois was poisoning everyone with unpure sugar, while Ayla stared her smug little kid down from across the counter. Why? Why did she do this to herself? The NSS stipend was more than enough for her finances, the Salmon Run bonuses could cover her brother's, her father's debt collectors couldn't follow her to Inkopolis, so why did she feel the need to drag her bum off the sofa and return to this hellhole? Why couldn't she just allow herself to be lazy for once in her cod-damned life?!

Ayla doled out the change and turned around with a sigh, grabbing the nearest cup she could find and shoving it under the coffee pot. She opened the nearby matcha jar to grab a spoonful of the weird green powder; she had no clue what the stuff actually was, and had only learned to read the word by opening every jar until preppy customers stopped yelling at her. The barista dumped the fourth spoonful into the cup and turned around—

"Alright, missy." The rugged sea urchin flashed a set of crooked teeth as he lifted a totally-not-nefarious paper bag. "The princess wants her payment. Ya know what to do." Ayla glanced at the clock.

It was barely twenty minutes into her shift.

The octopus sighed in almost bored compliance, put her serving spoon down, and dumped straight mayonnaise into an empty cup. She unceremoniously capped the thing and held it out to the "customer."

"Pleasure doin' business with ya, missy." The urchin swiped her offering with another grin. Icthy's Cafe was right across the alley from Off the Hook's studio, and the rapper wasn't the sort of sane individual who'd send an intern on a coffee run. She'd send an underling for a shakedown. That made the lackey one of her regulars—and Ayla wondered if, one of these days, she should tell him that a dualie doesn't do much good without an ink tank to fill it with.

She watched the urchin leave with a swagger, but not before respectfully tipping his hat at a newly-arrived Marina. The DJ shyly waved back and turned her turquoise eyes to the barista—unlike the other studio members, the former elite would often walk the whole five steps down the street and order her own drinks.

"Hey," Marina's smile was warm as she approached the counter, but Ayla could detect a hint of concern in her voice. "I saw you through the studio's window and wanted to check in. What are you doing back here? I thought you were helping with the investigation and running Salmon Runs with the boys."

Ayla instead cocked a confused head at her acquaintance's decision to use Inklish instead of Octolish. It wasn't unusual for Marina to ask a question or two about the younger refugee's adjustment, but most of the small talk was in their native language.

"No, no, I know what you're thinking." Marina shook her head with a quiet chuckle, her voice like a gentle mother's. "We're using Inklish today. You need practice."

Ayla steadied herself with a breath. "…O-kay…"

Marina replied with an encouraging smile…but it quickly gave way to a subtle, worried frown. "Is Grizzco not offering enough work? Not enough pay? Three and Eight should be giving you something for your help, even if it's just to cover the hours lost from your job." She crossed her arms with a quiet huff. "Just let me know if they're too clueless to notice the inconvenience—I'll give them a stern talking-to."

"No, no." Ayla focused on capping the latest order, trying to hide her surprise at Marina's use of NSS codenames; she was still unfamiliar with Off the Hook's connection to the agency. "Tree and Eight…" she paused for the right word, "…help. It is that not."

"Three." Marina corrected with an amused smile, adjusting the headphones she'd stowed around her crop top's collar. "What do you mean by that last part?"

Ayla glanced out the window and watched an Octoling with an afro stuff his face with ice cream. "I worked in Canyon. A lot. My brother worked, too. My family was not having the money. So I worked. And now…I work. It is what I do."

"You have a brother?" Pearl's bandmate gave a sympathetic frown. "Did your parents plan for two kids, or…?"

"Not…will-ing-ly." Ayla shook her head, then pointed to her chest. "Twins." Thanks to the cramped space and growing resource crisis, Octo Canyon had enacted a strict one-hatchling policy after the Great Turf War; any family that broke it was immediately saddled with fines. Those who did so intentionally weren't liked by their neighbors, but an impromptu instance—like twins—won the forgiveness of the community, though the family still had to pay the fine. The government needed the money…or at least, that's what Lord Octavio had said.

"Yeah." Marina pursed her lip with an understanding nod. "That's what I thought. But…" The former elite crossed her arms, her tone gentle but firm. "None of those fines could've followed you to Inkopolis. So come on—I can't help if you don't tell me the truth. What's really brought you back here?"

Ayla swallowed a surreptitious gulp, scouring her brain for another explanation—Marina really was as smart as they said. "…The hotel was having too much quiet."

"The hotel is too quiet." Marina corrected as the sterness melted from her voice. "How is it too quiet?" Ayla opened her mouth to respond, but froze when she realized she actually didn't know that answer.

It was Marina who beat her to the realization. "…You're lonely."

The barista closed her mouth with a nod. She had to admit that a guilt-inducing work ethic might not be her only reason.

Company was a constant confound in the Canyon, but Inkopolis had the luxury of privacy. The Octoling was accustomed to cramped spaces and seven other roommates under one roof—someone was always around even when she didn't want them to be. But up here the expectation was to live alone, sleep alone, cook alone, and only meet with friends during some R&R. The silent solitude in the ex-scout's new life was a difficult adjustment in and of itself, and the squid girls that giggled with whole cliques of friends weren't helping…because once she could actually stop and watch, Ayla realized she never had the time to find friends of her own.

"…I understand." Marina glanced at the counter with a tiny nod. "It takes a while to get used to the silence."

Ayla paused wiping a newly-returned expresso cup. The younger refugee was grateful to hear she wasn't the only one with this problem. Loneliness was even more painful when it was unfamiliar; she needed company, even if it was filled with frustrating strangers instead of true friends.

"Well, this just won't do." Marina rapped her nails across the counter, pensively gazing out the cafe's window. "We need to find somebody for you to hang out with…" Her turquoise eyes lit up and realization dawned on her face. "I know! Who's somebody that you really really look up to, but don't have the courage to approach?"

Ayla froze again, this time out of mild terror.

"Because I was pretty lonely at first, too," Marina excitedly chattered on, "until I formed Off the Hook with Pearlie! But I'd still be alone on that mountain if I hadn't forced myself to swallow my fears and actually pitch the idea of starting a band. Inkopolis is too big to let friends come to you, and admiring from a distance still keeps them at a distance. Sometimes you gotta be the first one to ask!"

Ayla gulped. She somehow doubted if that was a good idea with Agent 4. Pearl might've been scary in her own right, but Delta didn't even need a Hero Shot to pummel the ex-scout into a mangled puddle, steal the kettle's Zapfish, and just…dip. That alone made the "hey can we be friends?" conversation a tad awkward—and even though the last few talks with the supersquid were less pain-inducing than anticipated, she didn't want to push her luck.

"…Too shy for that right now, huh?" Marina's features melted at the sight of the nervous Octoling. "Well, I've got a few more things to do at the studio before my break is up, but I'll keep thinking of ideas. Don't worry, we'll find somebody for you to hang out with." The DJ was halfway out the door when she turned around and pointed a finger at the barista. "But think about what I said, okay?"

Ayla allowed a polite smile as the other Octoling grinned and left. The barista had a few quiet moments to herself and she served drinks as normal, but it wasn't long until her eyebrows began to furrow in consternation.

Why did it feel like someone was watching her…?

"Remind me why we're doing this now, in the middle of your lunch break?" Delta huffed as she hastened her pace to match Marie's brisk walk. She had not expected to deal with her mentor's side mission on one of Marie's busier days…and the agent wasn't entirely happy to be dragged into more internal conflict than she was mentally prepared for.

"Because this is the only time I can slip away without Cal noticing." Marie quickly glanced over her shoulder as she sped-walked towards Icthy's Cafe. "The squid's as distractible as a bumblebee, sure, but I swear she's got a radar on wherever the carp I go. I left her with two extra helpings of Triple-Fried Galactic Shwaffles just to make sure she wouldn't dive-bomb our chat with Marina."

Delta blankly stared back at her, processing the sheer number of calories. Two extra helpings? She could barely finish one of the gigantic food towers—and sometimes even Dylan had to help. What was Callie's normal serving of Triple-Fried Galactic Shwaffles? Did Delta even want to know?

…

How does she stay so thin?!

"She. Never. Stops. Moving." Marie nodded back with a tiny, knowing smile. "I wasn't kidding when I said she flies off the walls from the second she wakes up to the second she passes out on the couch. I swear something is wrong with that squid." The idol's smirk quickly faded and she glanced ahead, back to business. "Ayla said that a major general gave her the orders, right?"

"Yeah—and that major general is Octavio's second-in-command." Delta's irritation quickly returned and she yanked at the tentacle stubs above the nape of her neck. "So why do we need to talk to Marina at this point?"

"This major general might call the shots in the military, sure, but does she have political power as well?" Marie shrugged back at her protege. "Somebody forgot to ask that. We need to sever the snake at its head, not its midsection—if this Jane is just an army officer, then the real decision to squidnap Callie would've come from the Canyon's governing body. We still don't know what that is."

Delta bit her lip, hard. She'd hoped that the information from Ayla's questioning would coax this mission into a close, not embolden Marie further. And the encouragement had come from her own mistake, no less.

"Hey, there she is." A black kimono nudged Delta out of her frustration, then pointed at the DJ that had just stepped out of Icthy's Cafe. "Let's go."

Marie jogged ahead but Delta hesitated, one foot warring with the other. Her gut wanted to run to Callie and stop this vengeance-filled mission before it was bound to backfire…but…that would disobey Marie's direct order for secrecy, and Delta's militaristic upbringing had forged the former centerfielder into an unquestioning follower. Besides, Marie's high rank within the NSS meant there were only two superiors that Delta could confide in: Agent 1 and the captain himself. She agreed with Marie's hesitancy to involve Cap'n Cuttlefish; and although Callie had already squeezed some details out of the young agent, Delta had to wonder if the conversation had sparked the idol's migraine later that day. Did Agent 4 really have to drag the cousin into an already—and understandably—emotional situation for her…?

Her mind raged with itself for a few more moments before her upbringing won out—and Delta found herself plodding towards Marie with a quiet growl. Gathering information should be harmless, and Marie still had time to snap out of it on her own…right?

"Hey, Marina." Marie sidled up to the DJ with a sly nudge. "Mind if we borrow you for a sec?"

The Octoling turned towards the Squid Sister and her eyes saw stars. "Oh! Hi! Oh my gosh of course, you can grab me anytime." She took a couple seconds to think about that sentence, then shot a hand to her mouth. "Wait, no, I didn't—"

"Relax, I'm used to it." Marie waved her off with a lazy scoff, beckoning for her fan to follow. "You have no idea how many cephalopods trip over their words around me. It's almost as if I'm famous or something."

"Oh thank goodness." Marina's shoulders drooped with a relieved sigh. "I'm just…I don't care what it is, I'm super super excited to help. This is like a dream come true…" Delta's blue-eyed gaze caught the Octoling subtly pinching herself on the arm.

"…Good." Marie glanced over her shoulder, flashing Delta a knowing smirk. She opened the studio's side door and poked her head inside. "Hey, Dan! Mind if we steal a room real quick?"

A lanky spider crab turned in his director's chair. "Oh, 'sup Marie! Sure—Off the Hook's on break right now, so…" he skimmed through each clipboard in his many long arms, "…looks like the conference room down the hall is open."

"Got it, thanks." Marie opened the hallway door, then pointed a finger at the nearest intern. "Latte. Extra cream and one sugar."

The intern crab recited the order to herself and bustled out of the studio. Marina dashed into the conference room and had already seated herself in one of the chairs before Agents 2 and 4 had even made it down the hall.

"Someone's eager." Marie cracked a smirk as she walked into the room; Delta closed the door behind them and leaned against it. "So. Four and I need your help piecing together how Octarian politics work."

"…Mmm." The stars faded from Marina's eyes for just a split second and the DJ quietly nodded to herself; she was a smart Octoling, and surely sensed the NSS nature of Agent 2's question. "Okay. What do you want to know?"

"As someone assigned to Octavio's personal detail," Marie leaned a hip against the conference table, "you should've been up close and personal with his government, yeah? Is there an office that gains emergency powers in his absence?"

Marina crossed her arms and glanced away, gathering her answer with a pensive stare into space.

"It's…not really an 'office'," the former elite began. "More like a council. They're a group of seven Octolings called the Board of Advisors; each member's like, the top expert in their field. Their job is to act as Lord Octavio's, well, advisors—basically use their expertise to give opinions on the Canyon's current needs…kinda like a king's council."

"Who are the members?" Marie's terse follow-up hadn't skipped a beat.

"Well," Marina glanced at her feet as she drew another breath, "There's the two Major Generals—Jane Royale and Kaliff Quasar. Jane's in charge of the Canyon army while Kaliff oversees the Valley's forces; they'll work together to advise on military stuff during meetings."

Delta drew a breath that quickly caught in her throat. Ayla had mentioned a Major General Jane, and the more Agent 4 thought about it the more familiar the name grew—the messages she'd intercepted last year were signed by a "Maj. Gen. Jane," weren't they? Finally connecting the dots prickled goosebumps down her arm.

"Then there's the Master of Energy, Director of Research, and Master of Foreign Policy." Marina flicked a pink tongue across a fang. "That's Alistair Sarnos, Anastasia Inhibitore, and Zenith Alexium. The Master of Energy monitors the nation's electrical consumption—so with the energy crisis and whatnot, he's got a lot of pull in the Board's discussions." The DJ reached inside her boots and scratched behind the giant zipper. "The Director of Research is the head of Cephalon Labs; and since science is super important to Octarian culture, Anastasia advises the Board on scientific matters while conducting her own research. She never got along with Zenith—" Marina's black headphones shook with a reminiscent chuckle, "—but his role on the Board should be kinda obvious."

"Yeah." Marie grumbled as she dipped her head to glance out the window. "I'm sure he's all about attacking the enemy aliens."

"…Actually, he's against it." The DJ lifted a corrective finger. "Master Zenith is the head diplomat, so every skirmish with the Inklings makes his job a lot harder. Major General Jane usually agrees, along with the Masters of Domestic Affairs and Finance—that's Katherine Dione and Kazimir Arredelis." A knock rapped on the door behind Delta, and she turned around to spot the intern through the window.

"So, wait…" Agent 4 paused to open the door and grab the latte. "If the majority of the Board doesn't want to anger us, then how come they keep skirmishing with the NSS?"

"You're right—most of them don't." Marina nodded as she watched Delta pass the latte to Marie. "But the Valley's general and the Master of Energy are the two exceptions. Kaliff likes to fight things, Alistair's dying for the Great Zapfish, and Lord Octavio is an…aggressively sore loser." The Octoling broke eye contact and nervously rubbed her chin; bad-mouthing her leader must've still felt uncomfortable after several years of brainwashing. "It doesn't take much to convince him to act on old grudges. And he's got full power over the Board—so once he's decided, there's nothing the others can do."

Marie gave a pensive hum as she brought the steaming coffee cup to her chin. She took a long, savory sip of her latte, then exhaled into a contented sigh. "Then what happens when he isn't around to do his job?"

"Well, that's when the Board gains emergency powers to act in his stead." The stars hadn't left Marina's eyes. "They'll continue their meetings, but whatever suggestion has the majority vote becomes the Canyon's next move."

"…Huh." Marie's beak curled into a thoughtful frown as the tactician scratched under her tentacle bang. "A democracy. That's…not the backup plan I'd expected out of an autocratic, brainwashing control freak." Delta managed an agreeing smirk and Marie took another sip. "Do you think these members are still on the Board today?"

"Oh, yeah!" Marina nodded emphatically. "Yeah, none of them were even close to retiring when I left. The Board of Advisors is, like, super important to the Canyon's governance—they can't just…up and leave the darn thing. And there's no way that any of them became refugees; each member is well-guarded and often kept away from the NSS, let alone the Inkantation."

"…Alright then." Marie set her latte on the table, lips pursed into a thin line. "So which one of these Board members thought it was a good idea to capture my cousin?"

Delta swore under her breath.

Marina froze like a fish in headlights. She glanced to Delta, who tried her level-best to keep a straight face. "Um, the majority of them?"

"Who specifically was the majority?" Marie insisted, crossing her arms. "Was it the two major generals? The Master of Energy? Gimme a target." Delta's stomach dropped at her mentor's use of the word "target."

"I...don't actually know." Marina had crossed her arms, ending her sentence with a sheepish shrug. "I can take a guess, but..."

"I'll take whatever you can give me." Agent 2 insisted with a dismissive, unflinching shrug. "I can't let it happen again."

"I...can understand that." Marina exhaled the breath she'd been holding. "But I really don't think you need to worry. It's super, super unlikely for them to try the same plan twice—especially if it failed miserably the first time."

"Let me be the judge of that." Marie kept insisting, this time with a low desperation in her voice. "I need to see for myself."

"I…okay." Marina finally conceded with a huff. She stayed quiet for several seconds while conjuring up her first guess. "Well, Major General Jane tends to play things defensively. Build a big fort, don't poke the shark—that kind of stuff. But she's a soldier through and through, and what's a soldier without her sovereign? Lord Octavio's capture could've changed her tune on things—and her vote with it."

"Now as for the others…" Marina narrowed her eyes, thinking hard. "…Major General Kaliff and the Master of Energy would've added to her vote, Zenith probably wanted to negotiate him back instead, but I really don't know about the other three. The Master of Domestic Affairs is basically everybody's mom; she might've wanted to make sure that Lord Octavio's okay, but risking a war with Inkopolis could wind up hurting her constituents. Lord Octavio's capture would've affected science the least, so I don't know how Anastasia would've cast her vote. And as for the Master of Finance…" the DJ gave a hopeless shrug, "…I have no clue how economics works. I really can't speak for him."

Marie stayed quiet for a bit, muttering the names to herself. "…So the two Major Generals and the Master of Energy, for now." The hand dropped from her chin and the Squid Sister nodded to herself. "Well, that at least gets me started. Thank you."

"Anytime!" The Octoling superfan beamed back. "Thank you for letting me help! But, uh…" she politely glanced at the clock on the wall, "…is that everything you wanted to talk about?"

"Yeah…" Marie's golden eyes skipped to the clock as well. "Yeah, that's good enough for now—" she motioned for Delta to open the door, "—I gotta get back to Cal before she spends the studio's entire budget on chips." Marina gave a knowing snicker as she followed her idol out of the conference room, leaving Delta to drag her feet into the hallway.

Marina might've relished the opportunity to help, but Agent 4 was seriously reconsidering whether she should inform Callie after all. The young agent could tell that Marie wasn't assessing the situation anymore…she was hunting for targets to eradicate. Delta didn't know if it was to sway the Board's majority from capturing Callie again, or simply retribution for the first time, but it was clear that Marie had already walked into this conversation with a game plan…and a massively destructive one at that.

Because there was no way the Board would let her assassinate its own members without unanimously voting to send the army in.

A/N: Yeah, uh, if somebody was trying to attack me, I probably wouldn't just sit there and take it either XD. Especially if I've got an entire army at my fingertips…

But I digress! Thank you to everyone who's reviewed, fave'd, followed, and read thus far. We're getting closer and closer to the really good parts of the story, and I. Am. So. Excited. I can't hint at much right now, even though I really really want to, so all I'll say is that something big is coming up.

What I do need to say is that a couple things in the rewrite changed with this update. It's really not much at all, in fact I doubt y'all will notice a difference, but I figured I'd just mention it for transparency's sake. Basically all I did was reintroduce 2 tiny scenes from the original version and do some quality control, because…yeah, that was kinda to be expected. There was no way I was gonna get that rewrite to work on the first attempt XD.

Here are the usual authorly rants:

-Quinn is a tree now. That is all.

-I can barely even find the coffee in that soccer mom's order, and that…bothers me

-The idea of Callie standing in front of a vending machine and spamming the chips button is hilarious

-Longtime readers probably know this by now, but that italicized quote is from Sunzi's The Art of War. Ergo, it's not mine.

-Gavin's logic behind questioning Yuri's culpability has to do with statistics. His stats (roughly) said that IF Yuri was the Lightfisher, then they should've found the poison in his apartment. They didn't, so maybe that if was wrong and he's not actually the Lightfisher. Not 100% sure that was clear in the text, and I doubt everybody's learned that in school

-And the Board of Advisors! Even though they're just getting mentioned now, they're actually as old as the first story. When I was designing Caught in a Lie, I actually developed two plotlines—one from the NSS perspective and one from the Octarian side of things. That way it would feel like 2 "generals" fighting against each other instead of just 1 constantly getting their way thanks to sheer plot convenience. I had originally planned to publish the Octarian perspective as a sister story to Caught in a Lie…but ended up scrapping it when I decided to go for a sequel that had totally new ideas. I'm really happy that Marie's sidequest lets that would-be story see the light of day, even if it's just a little bit…and that may or may not be partly why it's there haha

-And yes, they have last names. Almost all of my characters do but I usually don't mention the surname. I decided to change that for the Board because some of its members really are that extra XD, and it looks kinda weird if you do it for some members but not others.