Delta had never seen Callie move so fast.
Golden eyes had snapped to the doorknob. Pink-swathed hips twisted to the entrance.
The front door exploded open without a single chance.
The pink squid might've been a natural speedster, but nothing—absolutely nothing—could hold a candle to the desperate indignation that fueled her steps now. Delta's brain had only a single, hearts-stopping second to process the situation…and then the hall quaked under the intolerant fury of Callie's determination. Caution had been hurled to the wind as the acrophobic actress leapt over the fifth-floor stairwell with unflinching speed—there was simply no room for fears, hesitations, or phobias. Every fiber of her being had aligned towards one goal and one goal only: get to Marie as fast as possible.
…Marie.
Oh, carp.
Panic struck, time resumed, and Agent 4's body moved less than a second later. She raced out the door and spammed the elevator button, only to huff and follow Callie's example down the staircase. Posters and bulletin boards blurred together as the Inkling slid down the railing, dropping her hips to hasten her descent along the makeshift inkrail. Brown Moto Boots hit the ground floor, and as she sprinted through the lobby, Delta's still-processing brain had finally begun to understand why the Lightfisher had used a timer at the boutiques…
...Because she was the bait, not the target.
He was there to intimidate Delta, goad her into calling for backup, and then measure the NSS' response time—so that when he finally went for his real target, he knew exactly how much time he had to finish the job. That meant the agents needed to scramble even faster to save Marie—because he was well-prepared to ensure that help would arrive too late.
All because Delta couldn't help but fall right into his trap, and deliver the exact intel he'd needed.
So Agent 4 pushed harder, raced faster—did all that she could to reach her mentor even a second sooner. Guilt-ridden hands smacked against cement as she stumbled into the parking lot, where Agent 1 hadn't even waited for her. The idol had already pulled her cousin's car up to the curb and kicked the passenger door open—which, considering who was driving…
"I don't even want to hear it." Callie's tone left no room for talkback. "Get in and update the others. Now."
Agent 4 didn't need to be told twice. She leapt into the passenger seat and Callie slammed the gas without hesitation, speeding them along the six-mile trip to Marie's radio station; the car was definitely the fastest choice, but it left the centerfielder twiddling her thumbs. There was no time to twiddle thumbs.
So in the meantime, Delta's mind raced to conjure a plan. The timing of Marie's late-night gig meant that Agent 4 had never visited this particular studio, so she'd have to make entry without understanding the building's layout. What floor would Marie be on? What room would she be in? Where were the stairs—or would the elevator be faster? Did her rescuers need any sort of access keys, or was just about anyone allowed to waltz in? How long had her coach mentioned a close-quarters fight lasted? Eight seconds? …How long had it been already?
"Marie's an NSS agent." Delta reasoned aloud. "She knows hand-to-hand stuff. She can hold her own until we get there, right?"
"I…" Callie smacked an agitated hand against the wheel. "Technically yes, but she's never been good at it. Marie's too much of a thinker—she keeps tryin' ta think her way through a fight, and…" she paused for another frustrated huff, "…strategizing won't do squit when the bad guy's right in front o' you. I'm supposed to be the fighter."
Agent 4 kept quiet. Their next best hope would've been Marie's near-flawless aim, but chargers weren't ideal for a close-quarters ambush—and Delta doubted there'd even be one at the studio. This wasn't shaping up well, and with a powerful neurotoxin thrown into the mix, the agent began to wonder if they were rushing into the same scene that Ayla had witnessed—just with Marie's body instead of Valerie's.
Delta tried her best not to think about that.
"Cod damn it…" Agent 1's growl was laced with that same erratic agitation that had erupted right before her big argument with Marie. "I can't let this happen again. If he's there, and I can't even…" She trailed off with a deeply, heavily pained fist, one that carried two different loads of the same agony. Delta was wrapping her head around the word "again" when the elder cousin pursed her lips, slammed the gas, and swerved onto a one-way avenue.
"Whoa, whoa!" Agent 4 grabbed the ceiling handle as Callie spun the wheel, narrowly dodging the oncoming truck by a hair's breath. "Take it easy, you barely have your permit!"
"To squell with permits!" Callie nearly shouted at the road with a panicked rake through her tentacle bow. "Even if I knew the rules of the road, do you think I'd care right now?!"
The raw panic in Callie's voice had only deepened Delta's sense of culpability. She turned around and saw Ancho-V-Games whiz past her window—they were almost there. Marie's radio station was the next block over; her car screeched to a halt outside the entrance and the agents scrambled out, yanking the glass doors open and sprinting into the complex's lobby.
"H-hey," the large security crab moved to block their path, confused. "You need to sign—"
Callie straight-up decked him in the face.
Delta ran right past the downed guard. Her surroundings faded into a blur as she diverted all her energy into moving as fast as possible—reserving just enough attention for charging past the downed security guard, breaking into the station's lobby, and racing through the hallway…until the protege barged a desperate shoulder through the door to Marie's office, panting heavily.
…Tick, tock, tick, tock—the clock steadily counted along as frantic blue eyes zipped across the room. She could spot Marie's coat stowed neatly in the open closet, Marie's papers lined across the desk, Marie's green shellphone on the cocktail table…but no Marie. And no signs of struggle.
"Over there!" Delta glanced to her right and found Callie running towards a tiny, unassuming gap in the door to the storage closet. The idol kicked it aside and barged in, with Agent 4 hot on her heels.
She was met with nothing but darkness and the racing of her own heartbeats. A pale film of moonlight seeped through the far window, illuminating little but the petrified dust in the air. At first she thought the room was empty, but the air was quiet—too quiet, as if the whole universe was holding its breath.
Delta flicked the lights.
Dark green ink was everywhere. Headsets and speakers littered the ground where shelves had been knocked into. Wired containers spilled microphones that dangled like hung squids. Delta could see the empty outline of an Inkling—matching Marie's height—in the abused racks where someone had once thrown her. It was way, way too akin to Valerie's murder.
A faint, throaty gurgle came from somewhere behind the shelves. It was so pitiful, so grotesque, that Delta almost didn't want to know what lay on the other side; but Callie slipped right past her without hesitation. Agent 4 followed her around the central shelf and stared at the floor…
…where the Lightfisher had one hand crushing his prey's throat as his blaster fought against her weakening resistance, the barrel aiming closer and closer towards a barely-conscious Marie.
"GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF OF MY COUSIN!" Callie roared with the fury of a protective Cohozuna. She slammed a foot into his ribcage—and the Lightfisher's flinch squeezed his finger around the trigger. A shot of fresh ink exploded against the far wall as the kick catapulted him clean across the room; the hand vanished from Marie's throat and her back arched into a deep, desperate gasp—before failing into a series of sputtering coughs.
Agent 1 dove in to neutralize the threat, while Delta quickly knelt beside her mentor. The Lightfisher's accidental shot had missed by just a few inches, and the protege didn't know if the ink was laced with TTX. So she looped her arms under Marie's shoulders and dragged her to a clean spot on the wall, drawing solace in her labored coughs all the way; her mentor's breathing might've been unstable, but she was still breathing. She was alive.
Holy carp, she was alive…
But right now it was Delta's job to keep it that way. She propped Marie against the wall and knelt beside her for a quick checkup. Life had returned to the strategist's eyes, but they were wide and unfocused. Bruises had begun to form around her face and collar, most of which were large enough to match the edge of a blaster. The coughing fits were sharp, violent, and frequent—only allowing for a few gasping wheezes before starting up again. Delta didn't want to waste Marie's breath with an "are you ok" that she already knew the answer to.
"Easy, easy." She instead laid a hand on her mentor's shoulder, just like what Marie had done for Agent 4's Octo Shower injury. "Just breathe. We've got the rest."
Marie's eyes had focused onto her agent, then closed with an unsteady nod. They reopened towards the far corner of the room, where the Splatoon's top grappler was blow-for-blow against the well-practiced Lightfisher. The Octoling had grabbed her from behind and thrown her against the countertop; Callie immediately spun around and channeled the momentum into a well-chambered hook. He slipped out of range and landed a double combo that Agent 1 interrupted with an uppercut to his ribs. The Lightfisher tried to trap her head into a guillotine choke, but Callie's nails dug under his shirt and twisted without mercy. He broke off with a pained cry and feinted a hook—except she burst forwards, slamming two palms directly into his face.
And then—out of nowhere—Callie popped the most devastating elbow strike that Delta had ever seen. The hit connected with the underside of his chin and his head snapped backwards with a sharp, crisp clack; his spine locked out and body had begun to tip away when Callie grabbed the back of his neck, wound herself up, and threw the mother of all knees directly into his groin.
And again.
And again.
…Finally, after she'd delivered her fill of vengeance, Callie flipped him over and dumped the once-frightening Lightfisher onto the harsh tile. Cold, uncaring eyes regarded her handiwork for less than a heartbeat—only to spin on her heel and abandon his crumpled, mewling form in the corner.
She instead gripped her cousin's shoulder and knelt beside her, eyes full of tense concern. "Are you okay?"
Marie had recovered enough for a stronger nod, still panting.
Delta could physically watch the relief wash over the pink squid. Her entire body slumped as everything—from the sudden realization, the panicked six-mile-rush, the endolphin-fueled fight against a legitimate murderer—melted off of Callie with a deflating exhale. Tense shoulders deflated into a sag, combative arms dropped to her sides, and even her eyes had begun to roll; she instantly pulled Marie into a tight, thankful hug.
"Thank cod…" She muttered over her cousin's shoulder, eyes squeezed tight; the relief in Callie's voice was almost identical to Marie's when they'd rescued the pink squid a year ago.
Once there was another pair of eyes on her mentor, Agent 4 heaved herself off the floor and moved to secure the threat, fighting the same adrenaline crash she'd witnessed in Callie. A brown Moto Boot rolled him onto his stomach; she'd braced a knee against his back when a slamming sound snapped her head towards the door.
"…You guys okay?" Quinn's green eyes bounced across the scene as he poked his head around the central shelf. The Valley agent took one look at Marie's bruises and stormed towards the Lightfisher, twisting the killer's wrists behind his back with a little extra fervor. "You're a right piece of squit, you know that?!"
"Emergency services shouldn't be too far behind us." Gavin strode in not long after Quinn, stepping between survivor and perpetrator. "Esteban and Alex are on some other call, but we should get a couple cops and EMT's."
"Good, we'll need both." Agent 4 reached into the nearby shelf and felt around for something to tie the Lightfisher's hands with—although with the hits that he just took, Delta was fairly certain that the Octoling wasn't going anywhere anytime soon. Her hand closed around two slim wires and she shoved them at Quinn, then returned to her mentor's side. "How're you feeling?"
Marie's desperate gasps had since calmed into hoarse wheezes. Somewhat steady hands patted her scuffed arms as she began inspecting herself, pausing for a pained swallow. "…Wonder how much time I can get off for this."
"Oh my cod, can you not…" Callie's head hit the wall, quietly chuckling with relief and bewilderment. "Really? Really?! You get attacked by a serial killer and your first thought is the paid vacation?"
Marie gestured at "what" back to her cousin, but then her features softened into quiet rumination. She tapped a light fist onto her cousin's shoulder.
"I guess…" the green squid rattled through a throaty cough, her voice raggedly hoarse. "I guess this makes us even, huh?"
That was when the second, much more secretive weight had begun to lift off of the pink squid. Callie's eyes began to glisten as she hugged her cousin again, finally free from a burden that Delta hadn't even known was there. "Might be a year late, but it's better than never."
Delta couldn't help but crack a small smile at the sight…and then Cap'n Cuttlefish entered the room.
And he was not happy. The entire room fell quiet as he scoured the scene, aged eyes storming with the fury of a thousand monsoons. His exterior was calm, collected, and ominously silent—but the Bamboozler wobbled hurriedly towards Marie when he saw her propped against the wall.
"…You alright?" The old charger stomped to a halt at her feet; Delta could spot a tensely worried frown hidden beneath the battle-worn beard.
Agent 2 gingerly rubbed at her throat and swallowed with a wince.
"I…" she shut her eyes, holding her breath to quell the rising coughs, "…I'm fine." Marie reopened her eyes with her best reassuring nod, her voice still hoarse. "Really. Looks worse than it is."
Cuttlefish dropped his shoulders in relief. He kissed her on the top of her head…then brown eyes shifted to the Lightfisher in a silent, bubbling rage. Delta instinctively gulped as he stormed towards the offender—not a single agent dared protest as he elbowed his way through. Anger electrified the air with the chaotic stillness of an imminent storm.
"…So." The captain stared at him with icy formality, gripping two hands onto his Bamboozler with icy formality. "You're the slob behind this."
The Lightfisher flipped onto his side with a grunt. He didn't say anything, but his Octoleet Goggles watched the elder intently.
"I'd start sayin' my prayers right 'bout now, if I were you…" Cap'n Cuttlefish slowly, slowly, knelt to the killer's level without breaking eye contact. "'Cuz you're 'boutta get locked up for a long, long time," he dipped his head into a low growl, "and we're gonna make su—"
"Pfft," the Lightfisher interrupted with an unbelieving scoff. "Come off it, fossil. I'm not afraid of some old squ—"
"Oh you will be." Delta had never heard a chuckle so eager, so angry, as the one that came out of the usually-kindly grandfather. The Great War general rolled his old shoulders, fangs glinting like a snarling shark. "I commanded the front lines at Bluefin. I led the charge down Mount Nantai. It was my orders that defended Echo's Edge from the Octarians. My squad that crumbled Arowana's walls. You think you're hot stuff when my weakest soldier could rack up twice as many kills—in just one battle." He leaned closer, his voice lower. "And the only reason you're still breathing is because you're gonna answer some coddamned questions, before I call in a few favors an' have ya smoked to ash by several dozen airstrikes."
"So you're gonna open your mouth, and you're gonna tell me…" the captain's hand shook with rage as he grabbed the Lightfisher by the chin, "…what kinda messed up, piece o' squit tries 'ta kill such an innocent little granddaughter. And you're gonna tell me now."
Cap'n Cuttlefish squeezed harder; Delta could spot the tiny outline of a mobula ray tattooed onto the killer's collarbone.
"The kind that's done with your bullsquit." The Lightfisher slipped free to return the glare. "We're refugees, not Octarians—we're the ones who betrayed Octavio, but the dried-out fossils in your generation can't see the difference. Why else would the government keep us in 'temporary' housing?" He spat the shards of a fang onto the floor, no doubt from Callie's earlier elbow. "So guess what—if you'd done more to help us out, we wouldn't have turned into messed-up pieces of squit that kill innocent little granddaughters."
"Playin' the pity game was the wrong move, boy." Wrinkled fingers latched onto Octoleet Goggles with unexpected speed. "Les'se if yer that bold without the mask."
The Lightfisher tried to pull back, but Cap'n Cuttlefish didn't care. The goggles were off in just a few seconds.
"…Wait, what?" Quinn's green eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "It's Ares, of all cephalopods?"
"That makes no sense." Delta took a step back, brows furrowed. She'd thought the Octoling was outside the police station at the time of Duncan's murder, but a closer look at his gray sleeve revealed the same wispy tattoos from Ares' interrogation; it was definitely him. So did Officer Esteban misidentify who was at the station? Or was there some other explanation?
Ares' brown eyes flicked through the agents, then twinkled into a knowing smirk. "You guys really don't get it, do you?"
Cap'n Cuttlefish opened his mouth to respond, but Marie's latest coughing fit rang across the room—this time heavier, more wet. The idol withdrew the hand from her mouth and stared at the blue flecks of blood that splattered her palm. She was quick to hide the evidence from her grandfather, while Delta hovered an ear over her mentor's throat and listened to the harsh rattle that came with each wheeze; she wouldn't have been surprised if the Lightfisher's grip had damaged something.
But the sound of several heavy footsteps turned Delta's attention to the entrance. Four uniformed officers rushed in, followed by two EMT's and a very upset security crab—still massaging his jaw.
"…Either way, it's game over for you." Cap'n Cuttlefish snarled one last growl at the Lightfisher; Ares returned the glare as he shut his mouth. The captain shot a no-nonsense glare at the incoming cops, flinging an angered arm back at his quarry. "I want this slob in our jail an' locked up tight 'til we know what to do with him. You three—" he barked at his own agents, "—make sure he gets there. Medics, we're gonna get my lil' squiddo checked out by a doc. Right now."
"I'm comin' with." Callie was up instantly, while Cuttlefish was already waiting by the door. The cousin helped lead Marie to the stretcher and swept a hand at the remaining agents. "You guys know what to do—hold the fort down while we're gone."
Marie left with the rest of her family, while the remaining agents split up to follow their commands; the boys hoisted Ares to his feet while Delta spotted his blaster resting on the tiled floor. She walked over to collect the weapon, giving it a once-over in her hands.
It had started off as a regular Blaster—she could recognize that much. The suction bomb canister, barrel, and wire frame were all still intact; but the absent plating allowed Delta to see the metal box strapped just below the barrel. Four electrical wires hooked the modification to a tray of four capsules that gave off a faint golden glow in the shade. Agent 4 peered closer: there was some kind of…blended liquid in each capsule.
And judging from the sticker on the canister, Delta wasn't sure that she wanted to know what it was.
Another cop strode over, looking her in the eye as he snapped a pair of gloves onto his hands—she took the hint and handed the weapon over before ruining any more fingerprints. Delta gave a small huff and decided to focus on something that she was a little less likely to screw up, so she returned to their captive and focused on helping escort him out of the building.
Ares had silently slipped into the elevator when Delta's shellphone rang. Blue eyebrows furrowed when the caller ID displayed InkPD's number; she glanced at the officers following Ares into the elevator, then tapped "accept" and brought the phone to her ear. "…Hello?"
"Hey, we've been at the scene for two hours now and we don't see any of your agents." Esteban's voice came through the speaker, somewhat irritated. "Where are you guys?"
Delta absently noticed that their supposed Lightfisher had stopped talking.
"…What do you mean?" Delta glanced over her shoulder as the team stepped into the ground lobby; Ares had been watching her with calm, uncaring eyes. "We're just leaving the scene now—you and Detective Alex are the ones who are missing."
She could practically hear Esteban stop in his tracks. "…What?"
"Yeah, apparently dispatch said you guys were tied up in another call. Right?" Agent 4 turned to Gavin, who nodded in confirmation. "Where are you?"
"We're at the Lightfisher scene." Esteban replied tartly. "We practically coded over here when the call came in. Where are you?"
Delta glanced at the boys.
"We're at the Lightfisher scene." She patted a palm against her chest. "I've been here since before someone even called the cops, and that was less than an hour ago. We have the Lightfisher—he went after Agent 2." Ares dipped his head under the glass pane as they headed towards the exit, his brown eyes scrutinizing the starry sky.
"He…what?" Esteban sounded thoroughly confused. "Okay okay, hang on. We're at a homicide scene on Grancy Lane, where the victim is a Salmon Runner and the details perfectly match the Lightfisher's MO. Your scene is an attempted homicide against one of your lead agents, where you apprehended a suspect that fits the Lightfisher's description." The officer paused for a huff as Ares' escort stepped outside. "So, you're telling me…that this guy just attempted two murders in the same night. How?"
Six eyes drifted onto the suspect, but the Octoling hadn't even graced them with his attention. His gaze was nailed to the skyline just above the center of the city, completely ignoring the officer patting him down. Delta regarded him for an extra second; there was something…deliberate, about his stare.
"Did he rush from one scene to the next?" Quinn chipped a fingernail as he scratched at his ponytail. "Grancy Lane's towards the other end of the city—it's difficult to travel that distance in the time that he did, but not impossible. Maybe he meant to catch Two a lot earlier but got held up at his first homicide?"
"Or maybe one of the scenes is a copycat instead of the real deal?" Gavin twirled a finger around the tip of his mohawk, thinking hard. "But then…which one is which?"
"…C'mon." Delta overheard Ares mutter, still staring at the sky. "Do it."
Time seemed to slow as she stared at him, confused. The shellphone slowly left her ear as Agent 4 struggled to comprehend the words; Ares certainly wasn't referring to their conversation, but neither was he speaking with any of the officers. So what on earth was he talking about? Just who was doing what?
…That was when she finally noticed the tan earpiece lodged in his right ear—but it was already too late. A deep, reverberating boom rattled the air and Ares exploded into a burst of orange; cops ducked into cover, Gavin whipped his head around, and Delta wiped the stinging ink from her eyes to find an orange puddle where her captive once stood.
"E-Liter on the roof!" Agent 4's brain flew into damage control; she morphed into squid form and dove under the cruiser. "Watch your two o' clock!"
"The darn flounder splatted!" Quinn swore from his cover behind the trash can; he stared at the puddle for a heartbeat before whipping his head towards his fellow agent. "Ancho-V-Games is the closest respawn point from here—we've gotta beat heavy feet if we want any chance of recapturing Ares!"
Delta pursed a hesitant lip—but Agent 3 was right. Marie's would-be killer had traveled an entire block with just the pull of a trigger, and he was likely already on his way to cod-knows-where. Ares was guaranteed to be a lost cause if they let the sniper pin them down.
"Well then what're you waiting for?" One of the cops propped a scoped charger onto the car door. "Go! We'll keep that sniper pinned with suppressing fire!"
The officers started firing at the roof, while Delta and the others slipped out of cover and took off across the street. They raced through the dividing grass and through the parking lot—Agent 4 planted her feet before the studio's entrance and yanked at the door, only to find that the lock had already been picked and the alarm disabled. Shadows loomed over the vacant lobby like devil rays eclipsing the sun, but the centerfielder didn't have time to see the sights. Gavin was already scaling the stairs two steps at a time, and the agents skidded to a halt in front of the spawn point.
Its engines whirred from a recent respawn…and the open window told Delta everything she needed to know.
Gavin's hands went to his knees as he slouched to catch his breath. Quinn rolled his shoulder with a minor groan, and Delta plopped onto the ground with a dazed sigh. A dreadful, foreboding silence weighed on the agents as they slowly, slowly, began to process the sudden turn of events. The earpiece. The working respawn point. The open door to a closed facility at 3am. Agent 4's gut sank further as more and more pieces began to line up, all painting a picture that loomed over the inexperienced agents. Ares' reveal as the Lightfisher might've come as a surprise, Esteban's news might've been unexpected, but there was only one way—one way—that such an ingenious escape could've been possible.
"…Hey, guys?" Quinn's voice was timid when he finally spoke, eyes as wide as a newbie who knew they were in over their head. The inexperienced amateurs might've spent weeks and weeks hunting for any kind of revelation on the case, but the one that stood before them proved just how outclassed they were from the very beginning:
"…What if there's more than one Lightfisher?"
A/N: Aaaaand that's it for the single killer arc! Merry Christmas, kingendlessflames—you were totally right. I know that at least a couple others had also guessed it, but it wasn't all of you, which means that I did my job. The twist existed, it was tangible to close readers, but still relatively hard to find. Not too bad for a first attempt.
And don't worry, you can think of my arcs as sections of the same plot rather than a totally new one—and the next arc isn't NEARLY as long. I'm not about to hit you guys with a totally new plot on top of an already hyper-complex one XD; the only reason I'm marking off sections is because this revelation creates a huge tonal shift in how the overall conflict is solved.
BUT—I can't talk about that for too long. We're about 2/3 of the way through the whole story, thanks so much to everyone who's come along for the ride thus far. Here's le notes for this chapter, and I'll see yall in the next one:
-Acrophobia = fear of heights. So Callie, who is afraid of heights, leapt from a fifth-story landing to save her cousin. Without hesitation. Oxytocin makes you do some absolutely crazy things when someone you care about is in danger.
- Disclaimer: no matter how understandable the circumstances may be, you should ALWAYS drive safely, not recklessly. You're of no use to the other person if you get bowled over by a tractor trailer.
-Why. Didn't. Any. Of. You. Little. Gremlins. Tell. Me. It's. Flounder. Heights. And. Not. Floundering. Heights. I have trust issues now XD
-A guillotine choke is a kind of chokehold that wraps an arm around the back of someone's head, usually when they're doubled over. I typically stay away from technical terms during fight scenes, but that was a case where I couldn't avoid it without breaking the flow.
-There's a part where Esteban says "we practically coded over here when the call came in"—"coded" is essentially emergency services speak for "booked it as if the world was ending and a giant eldritch dolphin popped out of nowhere to chase us XD" it's another technical term but I decided to leave it in because it's in actual dialogue and makes Esteban feel more authentic.
-You might've noticed that Cap'n Cuttlefish uses significantly fewer contractions in this chapter; that was intentional, because people tend to enunciate when they're sufficiently ticked off. I think Cuttlefish understandably qualifies here XD
-Callie's fight scene in this chapter is essentially why I spent so much time establishing her hand-to-hand prowess in earlier chapters—I had to make sure what she does here doesn't pop out of the blue.
-I also couldn't tell if this question would come up or not…but as for why Delta and Callie don't grab weapons on their way out, that's mainly due to respawn shenanigans. Both intervening agents use different ink, so both Marie and the Lightfisher would respawn somewhere else. They wouldn't be solving the problem, they'd just be moving it to Ancho-V-Games and would have to sprint all over again.
