Prologue

March 4726, PF

A light breeze blew through the trees, and a quiet hush fell over the forest. The hush was quickly disrupted as a lone male inkling burst through the bushes, nearly stumbling over his own feet. He sprinted through the trees, breathing heavily. His right hand was clasped tightly over his left shoulder, and yellow ink seeped between and stained his fingers. In his limp left arm hung a Heroshot, badly battered and cracked, now rendered inoperable.

The moonlight shone down, dimly illuminating the ground before him. He heard shouts behind him, and glanced back to ensure he was out of sight. This action led to his foot catching on a lone tree root, and he tumbled to the ground with a yelp. Quickly, he covered his mouth and rolled behind the tree that tripped him, leaning against it to catch his breath. He winced with each breath as the pain from his shoulder began to spread down into his chest.

"Hayak!" he heard somebody shout in a language unknown to him, and a light shone in his direction, casting his shadow onto the ground. More shouts followed suit, tailed by a volley of magenta ink. He ducked further behind the tree while he plotted his escape. After a short while, he darted out from cover and threw his Heroshot in the general direction the volley previously originated from. A cry of pain was heard, the light fell away, and he sprinted off, weaving between the trees in an attempt to lose his pursuers.

The inkling quickly grew weary and began to stumble more frequently, before eventually slumping to the ground, rolling onto his back and panting heavily. He heard the shouting far off in the distance, and determined that he was safe for the time being. There he lay for a short while, taking his time to rest up.

"Three!" he heard a female voice call out. He strained to look in the direction the sound came from, and saw an inkling woman running towards him. "What happened to you?!" she cried.

"I was...spotted," Three grunted, making an effort to sit up, but ultimately failing. The woman bent down and helped support him. "The invasion...is underway...you need to...tell the others."

"Can you walk?"

"Not...a chance in hell...I've lost too...much ink. I'm stuck here...for the time being."

It was at that moment that the woman noticed the yellow stain on Three's shirt. "Holy shit, what did they do to you?!"

"Nothing worse...than I've been through...before, Marie," he assured her. "I'll be fine...after a while."

"I need to get you back to-"

"No," Three replied firmly. "You go...I'll be fine...tell the others."

"But-"

Three moved himself to where she wasn't supporting him anymore. "I'll only...slow you down. Go. Now."

Marie hesitated for a moment, then turned away. "Alright. I'll trust you. But you promise to get back safely."

"I...promise."

Marie nodded, then took off in the direction she came from. After she departed, Three made another attempt at sitting up, this time successful, and ripped off his shirt.

"Oh, fuck…" he groaned, seeing the extent of the damage. There was a gash roughly five centimeters long, and the skin around it was deathly white with a large ring of inflamed yellow around it. Yellow ink oozed out of the wound. Three took his shirt and tore it to ribbons, packing the wound. The last ribbon he tightly tied around his shoulder to the best of his ability.

After sitting there for a while, he stood up with a groan and staggered over to a tree nearby. With all of his strength, he grabbed a small branch above him, and pulled down sharply to snap it off. He leaned against it and determined it would make a good enough crutch, and began to hobble his way towards Inkopolis. Three had a grueling 15 kilometers ahead of him, but he was determined to make it, and pressed on through the night.

Josiah Brach shot up in his bed, drenched in a cold sweat. He ran a shaky hand through his long, green tentacles, breathing heavily. "Every damn night…" he muttered. For as long as he could remember, he'd been haunted by his past. The memories flooded his mind night after night, resulting in sleep deprivation, night terrors, and anxiety. All he wanted was for them to end.

After calming down, he looked at the figure next to him. Aileen Brach, an octoling with pink and white tentacles, slept peacefully, not even stirring at his violent awakening. Seeing her calm figure put him at ease, and he smiled softly. Silently, he slipped out of bed, and tip-toed out of the bedroom, trying his best to not wake Aileen. On his way out, he glanced at the bedroom clock, which read out 03:22.

In the bathroom, he turned on the light and looked at his face: thin jaw-line, lightly tanned skin, and blue-green eyes. He stood a solid 180 centimeters. His eyes, sunken back into his head, had dark rims around them, larger than usual. His skin, normally smooth, was wrinkled with worry. 'God, I look so tired,' he thought to himself.

He splashed some cold water on his face, figuring he was too awake at this point to go back to bed regardless. He then proceeded to exit the bathroom, go down the stairs, and walk into the kitchen. There, he poured himself a cup of water, and sat down in the living room with a book. Tonight's read: A Brief History of Cephalopods.

Reading was something he deeply loved. He found he could easily get lost in a book for hours, imagining himself in the world laid out in the novel. His collection managed to fill an entire room in his house, and it continued to grow with every paycheck he earned. Of course, this was within reason, or so he told himself. There were definitely a few choices in his collection that were questionable in price. His prime example of this was his original English copy of Dune, by Frank Herbert. While he could understand very little of the book, the fact he owned one that survived from the Human Era was enough for him.

Some of his favorite books were ones penned by humans, translated from their original language into ones spoken by inklings. These novels included, but were not limited to, The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien, Starship Troopers by Robert Heinlein, and A Game of Thrones by George R.R. Martin. Fantasy was by-far his favorite genre, with science fiction being a close second. The imagination of the humans impressed him, as many of the whimsical creatures featured in those stories were completely made up, and that creativity was something he couldn't help but admire.

The sound of a female clearing her throat snapped him back to reality, and he looked up. Aileen stood over him, a slight frown on her pale face. She was on the shorter end of the spectrum, topping out at 165 centimeters on a good day. Light freckles dotted her face, and her eyes were a deep emerald green. She squinted at him, having left her glasses in the bedroom.

"I've been standing here for ten minutes, Josiah," she said with a pout. "I don't understand how you do it, but you continue to impress me with your ability to completely ignore me when you're lost in a book."

"S-sorry," Josiah apologized sheepishly. "I didn't see y-"

"'I didn't see you there,' yeah, I got that much. What are you doing up so early? It's nearly 4 in the morning."

"I...uh...couldn't sleep." He'd kept his nightmares a secret thus far, and wasn't about to spill the details just yet. Knowing her, she'd just worry too much about him, and he didn't want that for her.

"You could've at least been quieter getting out of bed," she snorted. "I laid there for twenty minutes, hoping you'd come back. It's cold without you."

He smiled softly. "Alright, I'll come back. I'm sorry I woke you." He stood up, placing the book on the coffee table, and gave her a small kiss. He then placed his arm around her small frame and walked her back upstairs. As they walked down the hallway, he looked at the pictures of them on the wall: there was one with them at the beach, on their first official date; another with the two of them atop Mount Nantai on their senior trip in high school; and his favorite, the two of them at their wedding two years prior.

Josiah led her to their bed, and climbed in after she did. Aileen quickly shut her eyes with a yawn, drifting off at a speed that would make a baby seem slow. Josiah, on the other hand, laid awake, staring at the ceiling, deep in thought. After some time, he dozed off as well.

A loud crash woke the two from their quiet slumber. The bedside clock was dark. Josiah attempted to turn the lamp on, which resulted in a whole lot of nothing. "Shit, no power," he grunted.

The two could hear scuffling downstairs, followed by another crash. "Nit hayak!" a voice declared in a language Josiah couldn't pinpoint. Josiah thought he heard two sets of boots, which was followed by an assault of crashes. Josiah quickly got out of bed, retrieving a small, high-pressure ink gun from under the bedside table. He then moved towards the door, peering down the hallway.

"What is it?" Aileen asked, pulling the sheets closer to her.

"I don't know," Josiah replied. "We gotta get out of here though, that's for damn sure." He ran over to a window on the opposite side of the room and opened the curtains. "Shit!" he swore again, and Aileen clambered out of bed to look out, too.

On the street below, he saw multiple cargo vans, each painted black. Octoling soldiers were running up and down the street, going into every house. Each octoling held an Octoshot with a flashlight attached on the end, and was equipped with a high-capacity ink tank. Josiah looked up to the sky and saw a squadron of helicopters flying overhead a few klicks away. The city itself was pitch black, save from the flashlights each octo held.

Josiah flung the curtains shut, turning back to Aileen. "I don't know what we do," he said. "The city, it's all-"

He was interrupted by an octoling bashing in the door. In one swift move, he pushed Aileen to the floor and fired a few shots off at the intruder, splatting them almost instantly. Another quickly jumped up in its place, firing a shot at Josiah, splatting his right arm. "Fuck!" he shouted, clasping his other hand over the stub that used to be his arm, green ink gushing to the floor. He dropped to his knees, groaning, and his vision began to grow dim.

The octoling raised their weapon, aiming for Josiah's head this time around. "No!" Aileen yeled, jumping out between the two, hands in the air. The two began shouting at each other in the octarian language, and before long, Aileen had turned around, putting her hands behind her head. Josiah could see small tears in her eyes, and she mouthed "I love you," before getting knocked out by a swift blow to the head. She crumpled to the floor, and the octoling raised her weapon at Josiah again.

Josiah looked up at her in shock and anger, struggling to his feet and diving at her. The two tumbled to the ground, and Josiah pinned her down and began to pummel her face. Her goggles cracked and fell off, revealing pained, purple eyes staring back up at Josiah. He kept going, tears stinging his sight. "HOW COULD YOU?" he roared, beyond furious. She had hit Aileen, and he wasn't about to let her get away with that. He felt his strength waning quickly, and began to feel limp. The octoling took advantage of his weakness and threw him off of her. His head collided with his bed's frame, and he knew no more.

Sergeant Allopo scrambled to her feet, leveling her weapon on the inkling. He laid still, and she breathed a sigh of relief. He had certainly given her trouble. Not only had he splatted her partner, he was quite close to doing the same to her.

"What's going on here?" she heard a voice demand, and she turned to the doorway. There stood a male octoling wearing a uniform similar to hers. While hers was black and chrome, his was all jet black, with a gold bar pinned on his shoulder.

Allopo snapped to attention and rendered him a salute. "These two put up a fight, sir!" she replied. "The male managed to splat Sergeant Lypo, but I neutralized him shortly thereafter."

"Your goggles, Sergeant, where are they?"

"The inkling put up a fight, and were it not for severe ink loss, I must admit that I would have been defeated. He managed to pin me down and get in a few punches before he grew too weak." She aimed her Octoshot at the inkling's head. "I can finish him off if you like, sir."

"No need for that, he'll bleed out on his own. He'd just make things more complicated for us." He walked around Allopo, and his eyes widened in surprise at the sight of an octoling lying on the floor. "Another octoling?"

"Yes, Captain, and it seems to me that she's been in Inkopolis for quite some time. There are photos of the two of them downstairs that I estimate to go back at least three years."

"Cuff her and bring her out to the van. We have some questions to ask her." He turned and walked out of the room.

"Yes, sir!" Allopo replied with another salute.

Three limped up to a small shack in Octo Valley, collapsing to the ground with a relieved sigh. He had finally made it, and he felt more exhausted than he'd ever felt in his life. A pair of footsteps ran up to him, and he looked up to see an orange inkling girl looking down at him, wearing a uniform similar to his. Or at least, what was left of his.

"You're still alive!" she exclaimed, bending down to help him up. She supported most of his weight on her body, assisting him to the shack.

"Did we...win?" Three painfully asked.

The girl laid him down on a couch inside the shack, then proceeded to get him a glass of water, silent. Three could tell from her body language that something wasn't right, and something definitely needed to be said about it. After gulping the water down, he grabbed her arm and looked her in the eyes. "Four...answer me...did we win?"

Four looked down at the floor, then back at him, sorrow in her eyes. "No…" she whispered. "The city has been taken."

Character Profile

Code name: Agent 3

Real name: Bradley Idio

Age: 26

Primary color: Yellow

Hobbies: playing turf wars, basketball, and skateboarding

Dislikes: water, fake personalities

Description: Bradley Idio, code-named Agent 3, is a 26 year old male inkling. He grew up in Inkopolis, and as such, knows nothing other than city life. He is 190 centimeters tall, has spiky tentacles, chocolate skin, and sky blue eyes. He has no remaining family members, and lives with a friend from college.