The Muffled Sounds Below: Roller Beneath the Tides

Rider managed a small groan as he woke up. His head hurt like no tomorrow. About a month had passed since the incident known to the world as the Square Jokers Cup, and Rider had, ever since his meeting with the strange Inkling known as Agent Three, decided to go on a bit of a journey of self reflection.

… With the added possibility of finding the truth to the claim that he might still be able to get his friend back. But mostly the self reflection thing.

His journey had, at some point, taken him around the area of Mount Nantai, not far from where the legendary Octo Valley was. In fact, he had started heading in that direction for some sight seeing. Not often an Inkling was in that general area, after all.

Then... what? His mind was a bit of a blank at that point. He was pretty sure he hit his head on something, but after that... nothing. Did he fall into the valley, or something? That would be... pretty bad, all things considered.

He took a look around. He was in a room of someone's house. Definitely not the bottom of a valley. Maybe. He really hoped so.

He stood up from whatever he was laying on. Closer inspection told him it was a bed, but the mattress couldn't really be called that. It was too thin; almost cardboard, even. He turned his gaze to the window nearby, and saw, despite everything, a fake sky.

"Where the hell am I?" Rider asked himself.

"Octarian Dome," came an aged voice in response. Rider turned quickly, and was face to face with an elderly Inkling, dressed in... was that the Old Timey Gear? That certainly brought back a few less than pleasant memories. "Finally awake, lad? How're ya feeling?"

"Confused," Rider responded. "Did... you say this was an Octarian Dome? I thought those were extinct."

The old man gave a dry chuckle. "Extinct? That's a bold claim to make. Yer suppose to be a smart one, Rider."

Rider took a step back. "How... do you know my name?"

"Well, ya gave my pupil a hard time a while ago," the old man chuckled again. "Name's Craig, by the way. Craig Cuttlefish. You've already met my protege, Agent Three."

"That guy?" Rider muttered, thinking back to his brief interaction with them. "So, why are you here? If this is an Octarian thing, then... are you trying to eradicate stragglers?"

"Eradicate? Buddy, what year do you think it is?" Craig whacked him over the head with his Bamboozler. "I ain't here to 'eradicate' no Octarians; I'm here to help the Octolings move into Inkopolis!"

"What?" Rider asked in confusion. "But... but they're the enemy, aren't they? Didn't you fight them? I mean, you're THE Captain Cuttlefish!"

"Seems someone's a history buff," Craig mentioned. "Regardless, no fan of the Inkantation is a foe of mine. I don't see species."

Rider opened his mouth to comment, but paused briefly. "I... think I'm missing some context here."

"Boy, you're missing all the context!" Craig shouted. "Come along, now. I'ma dispense you some learning."

"That..." Rider slowly followed along. "That wasn't a proper sentense."

The first thing Rider noted about the Octarian Dome when he stepped outside was the fact that it looked much like a green house. The second thing was that the social atmosphere was not unlike Inkopolis Plaza back in the day. The Octolings, as he was informed, all looked at him with almost child-like curiosity. They looked at him, an Inkling, and didn't see an enemy, but more an interesting stranger.

Rider took that as an incentive to do the same thing.

Captain Cuttlefish lead him to a decently sized building in the centre of the green house. Out front, an male Octoling with his tentacles in a mohawk stood, and waved them in.

"Mr Cuttlefish, sir. I'm glad to see you again," the Octoling spoke. "Is this the Inkling that 96247 found?"

"That it is, kiddo," Craig responded. "Meet Rider. He's a skilled Turfer. Rider, meet Octoling Soldier 4444 of the front lines division."

"Nice to... meet you?" Rider said hesitantly. It was the polite thing to do, but he couldn't shake the weird thought about calling someone by a number. "If you don't mind me asking, do you... have an actual name?"

"Oh, no sir," 4444 replied. "Soldiers as low ranked as me don't get names. You need to have a particularly high standing to earn a name."

"That's..." He really wanted to say 'sad', but found himself stopping short. He just couldn't begin to understand the ways their society worked.

"It's no problem, really," 4444 said. "If anything, I'm excited to be coming up with one once we're surface-side." He opened a door behind him. "Please, come through. I'm sure 96247 would love to meet you, too."

Rider and Cuttlefish stepped inside after 4444. The room they found themselves in was well lit, with a low sitting table in the middle. On one side of the table sat a girl not much older than Rider, dressed in a pink kimono, with amber eyes.

"Welcome once more, Sir Cuttlefish," the girl said, "and to you, new guest. I am Intelligence Operative 96247. But please, call me Serra."

Serra, huh? A strange name, in Rider's opinion, but then again, who was he to assume naming conventions? "Nice to meet you," he replied.

"Howdy there, lass," Cuttlefish stated. "This here's Rider; a skilled Turfer, but introductions can wait a while. I take it things are going smoothly?"

"Thankfully, they are," Serra responded. "The evacuation is progressing at a grand pace. We should be ready to leave by night-fall."

"Evacuation?" Rider asked. "What do you mean?"

"I take it you haven't explained it to him?" Serra asked Cuttlefish, whom responded with a shake of his head. "Very well. Simply put, Mr Rider, this Dome does not have long left before it falls into the abyss below. Sir Cuttlefish has been helping us with the evacuation plans."

"Dome's run on electricity, and for Octo's, that's a finite resource," Cuttlefish elaborated, "Once that runs out, Dome's fall."

Rider hated the fact that they were using the word 'fall' literally. "So, what? We're just trying to get out of this place? Where would you go?"

"Where do you think?" Cuttlefish asked. "Surface-side. Inkopolis. Surely you've seen the Octo's around."

Rider tried to say that he hadn't, but realisation slowly dawned on him, telling him that he had, in fact, seen Octolings before.

In fact, he had the strange feeling that he had managed to piss off all the Octolings he knew in some way.

A strange, uncomfortable sound echoed across the air. It was a sound not unlike metal straining against itself. Judging from the looks on Serra's and Cuttlefish's faces, it wasn't a good thing.

"Seems we're out of time," Cuttlefish muttered darkly. "Come on, let's skedaddle."

Serra nodded, while Rider followed along in absolute confusion. The moment they stepped outside the building, though, his questions were answered.

Scaffolding from high above was coming loose and falling. In shock, Rider could only give off a weak 'what the hell' as he ran to keep up with the others.

After a minute, he noticed the giant door that they were heading towards, where the rest of the Octolings had gathered. Before the Inkling cleared the threshold, though, a small scream caught his attention. Rider turned back, to see an Octoling child had fallen over. With no time like the present, he broke out into a sprint, managing to scoop the Octoling up before a mangled mess of steel bars hit the spot she was previously occupying, and making it through the door before it closed.

Rider let out a small groan, as the child was taken off his hands (well, off his chest, really). "If I was just the littlest bit out of shape," he muttered to no one in particular.

"Still mighty courageous of ya, kid," Cuttlefish stated. "Can't say I expected it, but I welcome the surprise all the same."

"What are you on about, Gramps?" Rider asked. "Inkling, Octoling, I can't exactly care about the difference when I need to step up."

Cuttlefish gave a small smile. "You know, yer a lot like Agent Three, squiddo. Shame you got off on the wrong fin."

To Rider's knowledge, roughly five hours had passed since they narrowly escaped with their lives. At least, that was based on what his watch was telling him. He couldn't quite remember the time he woke up, but he made a rough estimate, considering the time right now was roughly 7:41 PM.

From the time they escaped the dome, they had been following Cuttlefish's lead down innumerable corridors and doors, claiming to 'know a way up'. Rider wasn't really sure how much they should be trusting the sense of direction that a man as old as he had, but it was better than nothing.

The convoy had set up camp in... come to think of it, Rider wasn't sure where they were. It reminded him somewhat of a run down train station, if the station was made for people between the heights of regular Inklings and giant ones, in any case.

At the moment, though, he and Soldier 4444 were currently taking their shift on the night watch. In Cuttlefish's words, 'there's no telling if there's still creepies around'.

He honestly wasn't sure if he was more off-put by 'creepies' or 'still'.

"So, Mr Rider," 4444 spoke up, "how are you holding up? I can't imagine this is something you're use to."

"Well, it's not the worst thing I've experienced," Rider replied. "Definitely up there, though. Can't image how that Agent Three guy handled it."

4444's face basically lit up at the mention of the Agent. "You know the Tri-ticle hero?"

Rider gave the Octoling a look of confusion. "I... guess? Can't say I've heard him be called that."

"We have many names for him," 4444 explained. "The Nameless Wanderer, Koyo Raito, Hero's Breath, the list goes on. Ever since he defeated Octavio two years ago, he's been regarded as one of the greatest heroes of our time."

"That's... certainly something," Rider mused. "Although, 'Hero's Breath' sounds like a dental problem." Rider turned his gaze up to the high ceiling. "Any case, I wonder what built this place? I'm no expert on Octarian tech, but I'd hazard a guess this ain't it."

"You'd be right about that," he replied. "Can't say I know the answer, though. These tunnels have been around longer than even Octavio, I heard."

"Sheesh, sounds like this place is just a shoe in for being haunted. Try not to get too spooked, Quads."

"Please, I'm a soldier. It's not like I'll..." 4444's voice trailed off a bit, as realisation dawned on him. "Sorry, what did you call me?"

Rider flinched slightly. "Sorry, was that a bit much of me?" he asked. "I just thought calling you by a number was too... impersonal, I guess. If I'm overstepping, then I can just drop..."

Rider found his voice die out when he noticed that 4444 -now christened Quads- had stars in his eyes. "You're... giving me a name?" he asked in his bewilderment. "Just like that? No strings?"

"I... guess?" Rider rubbed the back of his head. "I mean, if you don't like it, then we can just forget..."

"This is the best day ever!" Quads shouted in glee. "I... I've never had a name before! This is amazing!"

Rider could only blink in surprise. Granted, this was mostly to do with the fact that he, as an Inkling, took the idea of having a name for granted. "well, I mean, if you really like it..."

"Like it? I love it! This is probably the best day ever!"

Rider did his best to suppress a chuckle as Quads ran off to the main camp, no doubt to tell the others the news. It was cute, in its own way, reminding him somewhat of...

"I wonder," Rider muttered quietly, so that his voice didn't echo. "Would you have done the same?" He let out a small chuckle, as his hand rested on the Pilot Goggles around his neck. "Of course you would have. Heck, you'd've probably run off to share the news."

It wasn't often that Rider felt joyfully melancholic these days, but he found this feeling rather welcoming. He really did miss that unbound, innocent joy that Goggles once emanated, which he now saw in Quads. Even in a situation like this, he could at least find relief in this much.

A shame, however, that his calm joy was cut short by a sickening squelch-like sound.

Rider stood at attention, Dynamo Roller at the ready. He couldn't help but note just how cliché it was. Of course the thing would happen when he was alone, and of course it would happen when he was just starting to feel good about his day.

Creeping around the far corner, Rider was met with a sight he honestly couldn't quite describe. It was, upon first inspection, a puddle of off-cyan ink, but he immediately knew that there was something fundamentally wrong with it. Normal ink, regardless of colour, glittered even in the faintest of lights. This ink, by comparison, seemed to sort of... pulse. No, perhaps 'pulse' isn't quite the right word. Whatever the word for it was, it was just wrong.

So, of course, Rider did the one thing any person would, logically, do when faced with something so unnatural: he grabbed the nearest, longest object (a thin piece of copper piping. He wasn't about to use his Roller for the job) and began poking it.

Suffice to say, he was more than a little shocked when a hand slowly began to form from the puddle.

Well, 'form' might be too definitive a word for it. It was more that it was trying to take shape, yet lacked enough layers of skin to keep it without dripping.

Rider wasn't entirely sure what to do in this situation, so he took the humane (well, squid-ane, but that's a stupid word to write) approach. "Are... you alright?" he asked.

A head slowly began to form from the puddle, and Rider could make out the tentacles of an Octoling from it. The eyes, though, struck him as wrong. They were an unnatural teal colour, with black where there would normally be white.

For some reason, the teal colour seemed vaguely familiar.

Rider held out his hand to the puddle-person, who seemed to try and do the same. Upon contact, however, the puddle person's hand seemed to slip through Rider's like water, leaving a sort of tingling sensation on his palm.

"Found one of the Sanitised ones, have ya?" Captain Cuttlefish's voice cut through the silence. "Can't help but feel sorry for 'em."

"What the hell happened?" Rider asked. "Why is this person... like this?"

"That's the Kamabo group for ya," Cuttlefish answered. "Been doin' some weird stuff to the Octos for a long time. Was only until I found Agent Eight that we brought them down."

Rider wasn't sure how to process the information. Mostly because he had a more present matter on his mind. "So, what should we do about this one?" he asked. "I mean, we can't just leave them here."

"'fraid there's not much we can do," Cuttlefish responded. "Unless yer planning to put 'em in a container."

That... wasn't an awful idea. Rider just had to wonder where he would find such a container.

As an answer he felt was so blindingly obvious dawn, Rider smacked himself on the head, pressed a button on his ink tank, and emptied it down the nearest drain. Cuttlefish raised a brow at the action, as Rider knelt down by the puddle-person, the lid of his ink canister open, and the auto-fill turned off. "Here. It's not much, but I can still get you out of here like this."

Cuttlefish watched in bewilderment as the puddle-person climbed into the canister. "Ya... sure you want to be doing that?" he asked. "I mean, not only are ya depriving yerself a weapon..."

"I know," Rider cut off. "But, I think it's the right thing to do. At least, it's what that guy would do."

"That guy?"

"Yeah. Agent Three."

Cuttlefish had to suppress a smile. Not too difficult, with his beard in place. "So, you've started looking up to that kid? Anything in particular, or do ya just have a thing for heroes?"

"Very funny, old man," Rider shot back. "If you must know, I've just come to respect his view on things."

"'Always give others a chance', huh?" Cuttlefish chuckled. "That kid always was a bit of a softie."

Two hours pass, during which camp breaks, and progress begins once again.

Just as quickly, though, it came to an abrupt halt, as they stood before a towering metal door.

"It appears we have reached another dead end," Serra stated. "Perhaps we've missed something?"

"Don't think so," Cuttlefish responded. "Any other path was already blocked off."

"Then, what should we do?" Quads asked. "Just sit here and twiddle our thumbs?"

Cuttlefish gave a rather confident chuckle. "Lad, you don't know how this works, do ya? In situations like this, the hero always show right... now!"

Two seconds passed, and nothing happened. "Right... now!" the captain tried again. Once again, nothing happened. "... Now!" This time, the door began to creak and move. "Ha! First try, every time!"

"That... that was three tries," several people commented, among them including Rider.

The door stopped about half Rider's height. "Oop, hold on," someone on the other side said. Rider could have sworn he heard that voice somewhere before. The sound of something sparking was heard, and the door dropped a quarter of an inch. "No, not that one," the voice muttered. Another spark, and the door rose that quarter inch back. "Okay, was it blue plug into green outlet?" A click, yet nothing happened. "No, not that one. Blue into red, maybe?" Two clicks, and the door went back to rising, until it was fully open.

An Inkling stepped out from around the corner, looking rather exhausted. "I knew I should have brought Ida along. She'd have figured this out in no time," he sighed.

Rider got a good look at the Inkling before him. A hi-vis jacket over a black sweater, shorts, yellow shoes with lights on them, a pair of LED headphones, and what looked an awful lot like an older model of the Heroshot replica. All that, and a rather tattered cape.

He knew, without question, who this was.

"Yo, Agent Three," Captain Cuttlefish greeted casually. "You made good time."

"Only because you still have that old radio from when you met Agent Eight," Agent Three responded. "Otherwise, you guys might have been down here a lot longer." At that moment, he painted an arrow on the ground, pointing back the way he came. "Alright, folks! Just follow the arrows as you see them, and you'll reach the surface in no time!"

There were cheers among the Octarian people as they began to move on. Rider took note of the fact they were calling Agent Three 'Koyo Raito'. A small part of his mind felt like he'd heard that label before, but couldn't quite pin down from where (despite the fact that it was two hours ago).

Regardless, before long, it was just him, and the agent left at the door.

Agent Three finally noticed him. "Ah, Rider. You're here too?" he asked, seeming somewhat surprised.

"Yeah. Took a trip down a hole on accident," he replied, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "Guess I owe you another one, huh? After that whole Sharkfin thing."

"Don't sweat it," Three waved off. "The 'whole Sharkfin thing' was actually rather personal."

"I see." Rider took note of the calm smile the agent had. "By the way, what took so long on the door, anyway?"

"I'm not the best engineer on the block," he admitted. "Ida taught me the basics of rerouting power from place to place, but it's not as easy as she make it seem. Doesn't help that I forgot both my contacts and glasses."

"You need prescriptions?"

"Yeah. Kinda sucks for an agent, huh?" Agent Three laughed a little. "I could have sworn I brought my spares, though. Musta dropped them on the way."

As the two began their walk back to the surface, Rider made several notes about Agent Three. First, there was the fact that he was a very easy going kind of squid. In fact, it really did feel like he'd seen this guy before, or even multiple times, when he was off the clock, but he just couldn't pin it down.

Rider felt his foot touch something loose. A quick examination revealed he had just found a lost pair of glasses. Topical, huh?

"Hey, Agent," Rider spoke up. "I think I found your specs."

"I thought that guy was still surface-side?" Agent Three retorted. Rider's brain registered that the agent had just attempted to make a joke, yet it was so unimaginably weak, that Rider couldn't help but suppress the memory of it as he handed the glasses to the agent.

"Well, they don't look too scratched up," he observed, placing the eye-wear on his face. "Ah, proper vision; how I've missed ye."

Rider got a good look at Agent Three again, and once more, that sense of familiarity reared its head, this time with a greater intensity, as if a puzzle quarter done was now half finished, but the image was still unknown.

Agent Three, glancing at Rider, took notice of his ink tank. "Are you... carrying a Sanitised Octo?"

Rider shifted his footing. His Roller may not have had ink in it, but he was ready to throw down if he had to. "What about it?" he asked. "You gonna try to tell me not to?"

In response, Three smiled. "Not at all. If anything, you're just helping in one of our side projects." This answer served only to confuse Rider. "Aside from bringing Octolings to Inkopolis, the B-team and I have been working on helping the Sanitised as well. Considering the amount of success we had with Ahato, we know it's not futile."

Rider felt himself relax, before a figurative light went off in his head. Ahato. He knew that name, without a shadow of a doubt. She was a member of the newly formed Team Octo Bolt, which was 75% people who worked with Team Bangaichi during the Square Jokers Cup.

Many dots began to form a line in his head. Captain Cuttlefish had fought alongside Team Bangaichi during the finals of that Cup. The captain was Agent Three's mentor. Agent Three had ties to people who fought alongside Bangaichi. Agent Three also had that somewhat teal scar over one eye, similar to a certain someone who also wore glasses.

In the end, there was only one person who Agent Three might be. After all, between those two teams, there were only three males, two of which being Inklings, and only one that fit the Agents freshness.

"Say, Agent Three," Rider said slowly. "You mind if I ask you something?"

"You already did," Three responded, "but go ahead."

Rider took a deep breath, steeling himself to speak. "Are you... really Timey?"

Agent Three looked mildly surprised, yet not as much as Rider had expected. "You know," he began, "that took you an awfully long time to realise."

"O...kay. Not the reaction I was expecting."

"Well, I wasn't exactly subtle about it," he continued. "Heck, even the captain wasn't subtle."

Rider tried to counter, but realise that, yes, no one was being that subtle about it. Heck, there was that entire exhibition match where he and one of his teammate, Shades, had teamed up with the Squid Sisters, and aside from Agent Three -Timey, those three had worn the Hero Replica set. It was like they weren't even attempting to hide it!

The small voice in the back of Rider's head reminded him that the best place to hide something like that was, in fact, out in the open. In this case, it was like they painted the truth in neon on the side of the Great Zapfish, and everyone just thought it was a trendy tattoo.

"So, does that mean the rest of your team is..?"

"Not entirely," Timey cut in. "Shades and Kashimi are Agents Four and Eight, respective, while Callie and Marie are One and Two. The rest are more... honorary members of the Splatoon."

"It... goes deeper than I imagined," Rider muttered. "Wait, so that's why you use to call Kashimi Eighter?"

"Well, that, and the fact that no one actually knew her name for the longest time," he replied. "Amnesia's a real pain, you know?"

"Guess that was a thing, huh?" Rider muttered. "So, what happens now that I know your 'secret identity'? It may be an obvious secret, but I get the feeling you don't want it in common knowledge."

"Now?" Timey gave a small, almost sinister chuckle, accompanied with a sly grin. We say 'almost', because it came off like a child trying to be the villain in a school play, and just can't deliver his lines with a straight face. It is for this fact, that he instantly drops the facade when he turns to face Rider. "Absolutely nothing. I mean, you're not the only one outside of the Splatoon to know our big secret. Heck, Shades has been poking around town, just to see who believes the New Squidbeak Splatoon actually exists."

"The results?"

"Jury's still out, but generally? Half the population thinks we don't actually exist, and the other half think we're LARPing."

If Rider's jaw could drop any more, it would have gone through the floor. Heck, he was fairly certain the Octoling in his tank had as much a bewildered look as it could muster.

'Octoling in the tank'. That sounds like such a euphemism.

"Ah! Look," Timey shouted, pointing towards the light that bled into the underground. "We're almost out."

Rider let out a sigh of relief. "Finally," he muttered. "It's been a very long day. Or, has it been two?"

"Day and a half, actually," Timey answered. "That's how long ago we lost contact with the captain."

There was something to be said about feeling the sun for the first time in days. Previously, Rider had never given it much thought, but now, he would say he appreciates the feeling of light upon his skin more than ever.

Both Timey and Rider let out a groan of relief. "Glad to be out of there again," the agent muttered. "That place always smelt like death to me."

Rider hadn't given much thought about the smell of the Deep Sea Metro before, but thinking about it now, he didn't think he could argue that point. "So what happens now?" he asked. "In fact, what's going to happen to the Octolings?"

"The captain's probably taken them over to reception," Timey answered. "The people there are in the know. Once all that's sorted, they'll be good to go about life how they wish."

Rider was about to make a comment of 'just like that?', yet paused when he noticed that, sometime between the first and second things he had said, during the few seconds where Rider had taken his eyes off him, Timey had changed his attire. The cloaked Hero set (plus glasses) had been swapped out for the Old Timey headgear, SRL Coat, and the Neo Octoling Boots. How the heck did he pull that off? There was like, a span of maybe a few seconds to do that.

"Mesh happens to be one of the smart ones," Timey continued, seemingly not noticing Rider's confusion. "At the very least, among those that know, she's among the welcoming types."

"There are types?" Rider questioned. Really, though, he wasn't all that surprised that there were.

"Oh yeah. There are types." There was something in how Timey said it that seemed to set off a flag in Rider's mind. It was like someone tried to apply a passive-aggressive undertone, yet failed so badly at the 'undertone' part that it came close to sounding like sarcasm. "Thankfully, those that know and have problems also know to keep their damn mouths shut."

Well, if Rider learnt anything about Timey from the previous tournament, it was that when he swears, you know it's a pretty big deal. "You feel... strongly about this."

"What can I say? I hate people that judge others for something they have no control over."

"Yeah, that's fair," Rider admitted. He'd like to say it wasn't out of some deep set guilt from a while back, but then he'd be a liar. "So, what should we do about this one?" he shifted his weight, emphasising his ink tank. "As much as they aren't weighing me down, I don't think I can easily explain to people that I'm carrying an Octoling."

"Oh, that's easy," Timey exclaimed. "While I'd like to say it's 'quick and simple', it's really not. It's actually quite a long process."

"The point, please," Rider snarked.

"Sorry," he quickly appologised. "Basically, though, we just need to take 'em to Ida. Just follow me a bit longer, 'kay?"

'A bit longer', as it were, ended up being little more than ten minutes of walking through multiple back alleys, until they found a rather nondescript door. Rider couldn't help but feel just the slightest bit nervous as he followed Timey through the door.

"So, who is this Ida, anyway?" Rider asked. "You've said their name many times, but that hasn't exactly answered anything."

Timey shot Rider a glance that basically said 'are you kidding me'. "Really? That should be obvious," he responded. "Heck, it should be more obvious than me being an agent."

"Well, we've already established the whole 'hiding in broad daylight' thing."

"Touche, buddy," Timey conceded. "Well, to answer that, it's..."

"Yo, kid!" a loud, boisterous womans voice shouted. Instinctively, Timey and Rider snapped to attention, as if they were soldiers. Rider was somewhat bewildered by this instinct, as he had never been a military person, or had family that were.

When the speaker came into view, finally, Rider noted two things. One, she was an Octoling, and two, she was a very, very big Octoling. By the Gods, her biceps were as wide as he was tall! (note: this is an exaggeration)

"Commander Cruise, good to see you again," Timey said, seeming to drop the sudden militaristic atmosphere. "Been well?"

"Damn right we have," Commander Cruise smirked. "Almost too well, I'd say. Kinda been missing the heat of battle."

"As I've told you, you can join the giants league if you want," he replied in exasperation.

"I could, but then I wouldn't be able to fight you folks." She finally took notice of Rider, and in particular, his ink tank. "I take it your friend here has a Sanitised one for us?"

"That he does," Timey stated. "Commander, meet Rider, ace turfer. Rider, meet Commander Cruise Crusher, former Octo military. She's the security detail for this joint."

"N... nice to meet you, ma'am," Rider stammered, removing the ink tank. Commander Cruise took it from him in one hand, as if holding a drinking glass. "So, can you guys actually fix them? Undo this Sanitising thing?"

"I don't know the science behind it all, but yeah," she responded. "By the by, kid," she turned back to Timey, "'Rina got that thing of yours up and running. Dunno why the heck you had another guy inside your head like that, or why she seemed... less than pleased with him, but it's done."

"Got it, thanks," Timey responded.

In Rider's mind, though, puzzle pieces were falling into place once more. Before, he could only say with 40% certainty that he knew the name 'Ida', but adding even as small a nickname as 'Rina' told him all he needed to know.

"Timey," Rider started, "are you telling me that your tech support for the Splatoon is Marina Ida?"

Timey gave a slow clap. "Took you long enough. Honestly, at this point you should just assume certain things."

Rider let out a sigh, as Commander Cruise laughed loudly. "Ah, don't beat yourself up too much about it, brat," she said. "Not everyone's as bright as these Squidbeak folk."

"That's still up for debate," Timey argued. "Honestly, I'm still surprised that our species won the Great Turf War."

"Mystery of the ages, that one," Commander Cruise agreed. Slowly, she turned her attention to the ink tank in her hand. "Still, this is a damn young girl to have gone through that gauntlet. Where the heck did you even find her?"

"Behind a massive door, from his perspective," Rider answered, pointing to Timey. "How... old is she?"

"By my guess? Barely eight."

Rider felt his stomach churn. She was still a kid, for Gods sake. He took a glance at Timey, who's expression had become something unreadable.

"Commander, where did you say that project of mine was left?"

"I didn't," she responded. "It should be in the second room to the right."

Timey began walking off, with barely a word. "Hey, you alright there, bud?" Rider asked. A stupid question, really.

"In a moment," he replied, rolling one of his sleeves up. "I've got some scolding to do."

The door opened, slammed shut, and was locked. Barely a few seconds later, Timey had shouted "Tartar, what the actual hell!"

"Um, should I ask?" Rider questioned.

"Not me, buddy. I'm as confused as you are," Commander Cruise replied. "Anyway, don't you have friends to be getting to?" She handed him the ink tank back, which he noticed was now empty. He looked around, and saw that at some point during the conversation, the Commander had transferred the Octoling into a different container.

"Guess I should, huh? It's been a while," Rider agreed. Before he opened the door, he turned to face the Commander. "By the way, you wouldn't happen to know a guy by the number 4444, would you?"

"Curious as to how close Octolings are?" Commander Cruise asked. "Sorry to say, but those number in the 4000s weren't ever under my command. Bit before my time. I've only ever worked with people in the triple digits before I retired."

Rider let out a small hum. "Guess there's still a lot to learn about Octarian culture, huh," he muttered. "Well, guess I'll see you around?"

"You can't miss me," the Commander shouted, "I've very large!"

By the time Rider made it back to Inkopolis Square, the sun was already starting to set. What a long day it had been for him. Rider was more than use to spending most of a day on his feet, but those times had always been broken up with meals and being able to sit on only mildly uncomfortable benches, not minimal food and hard floors.

He was definitely not going to miss that feeling, that was for sure.

"Rider!" a familiar voice called to him from the distance. Rider looked towards the Lobby, and saw the welcoming sight of his seven squid team, Team Yellow-Green.

Rider gave an exhausted smile. "Hey, guys," he said weakly. "Been a bit, huh?"

"'Been a bit'?!" Headphones repeated incredulously. "It's been two days! I know you've really sold yourself on this whole 'pilgrimage' thing, but couldn't you have at least answered your phone?"

"My phone?" Rider fished his phone out of his pocket. First thing he noticed was the new crack that ran along one of the corners. Second thing was that it was out of power. At that point, Rider could only laugh slightly.

"Geez, way to make us worry," Specs muttered, seeming somewhat annoyed. "What the heck were you doing these past few days, anyway?"

Rider had to think for a moment. How would he explain it to them? Heck, how would they react to the knowledge that not only are Octolings more than just a facet of history, but walking among them right this very moment? Heck, in the time it took him to get from the Metro to that 'underground' base, to here, he noticed that he had passed no less than forty Octolings, and some of them even looked Sanitised.

Well, when in doubt, best think: What would Timey do?

"I... ran into some migrants," he answered. Yes, that's what he would do: half truths and ambiguous answers. "After that, we met that old man, Cuttlefish, and I got roped into helping them move into Inkopolis." The team all looked at him as if he had grown an eleventh tentacle. "Hey, you asked what I was up to, not how realistic it sounded." He blinked briefly in surprise of himself. "Huh. Two days on my feet, and I still have it in me to sass. I surprise even myself sometimes."

"No kidding," Specs stated. "Hah. Guess there's nothing else to it." He adjusted his glasses. "So, you manage to find what you were looking for?"

Rider paused for a moment. What had he been looking for, anyway? Before long, he concluded it was 'a sense of moving on', and thought about whether he'd found that.

Considering the images of both Serra and Quads appeared in his mind the moment he thought of the idea, he knew the answer.

"Yeah," he said. "I found it, and then some."

A/N:

Well, this took a bit longer than I had expected. Regardless, here we are, all caught up to The Splatocalypse Cometh.

On top of that, a Rider focused one was certainly an experience in its own right. Then again, fics that focus on the opposing force (I'd hazard to call Rider and co the 'antagonists', though it is a fitting word) for previous works is always a barrel of fun.

Well, the only way we can go from here is forward!

… Actually, we could also go further back.

… Maybe, maybe not.