It was a quarter past noon when Inkley heard a knock on his door. He had spent the past hour watching highlights of recent turf wars, hosted by the Squid Sisters, of course. Rising from the couch, Inkley went to the door and opened it.

Brine stood there, hands stuffed into his pockets. He grinned at Inkley. Brine was near exactly the same height as Inkley, with a thinner build and bright orange tentacles. His eyes were dark blue, and seemed to constantly move from one thing in another. Much like the boy they belonged to, they never sat still. He stood on his tip-toes and tried to peer over Inkley's head.

"Hey, man." Brine said quickly. "So? Let's see it!"

Inkley huffed at Brine's rush, but stepped aside to let his friend in. "It's upstairs. Come on."

Brine surged up the stairs without a second thought. Inkley closed the door and followed him as quickly as his sore legs would allow, eager to show off, and just as eager to keep Brine from going through his things. When Inkley entered his room, he was relieved to find Brine simply standing in the middle of his room, looking around.

"You still have that poster?" Brine asked, jerking a thumb towards the door.

Inkley furrowed his brow. "Yeah. So? Shut up." Shaking his head, he went to the closet and opened his bag.

Brine appeared over at his shoulder. "It's in there? Why?"

"To keep it hidden." Inkley replied. "You know how my mom is about this kind of stuff." Ignoring whatever else Brine had to say, Inkley fished out his Splattershot Junior and its tank.

"That's a Junior." Brine said suddenly. "I thought it was a normal Splattershot."

"Did I say it was a normal one?" Inkley asked him.

"No. But you didn't say it was a Junior, either."

"Well it is."

Brine huffed, but extended his hands. "Lemme see it."

Inkley was hesitant to hand it over. "Don't break it." He said.

"I'm not gonna!" Brine replied, taking the shooter when it was offered. He turned it over and over, examining it for several minutes. "I have one just like this." He announced eventually. "But it's newer. And a different color."

"And not just like this," Inkley replied.

After a moment, Brine returned the shooter. "You know what I mean. I have a Junior kinda like that. Jet gave that to you?"

"Yeah."

"I never saw her use it before. Even when we were younger."

"I think it was her first shooter."

They stood in silence for a moment. Brine stretched and yawned noisily. "I'm bored." He said afterwards.

"TV?"

"TV."

The day, and then the week, passed uneventfully. Inkley noticed that his mother occasionally came home up to two hours late, but made nothing of it. She seemed not to notice his soreness, and the week progressed like it usually did. Wednesday night she came home early, they went out to eat, and bumped into Synthia. The encounter was excruciatingly embarrassing as usual, but wasn't anything new. Thursday night, Jet called, and wanted to talk to Inkley.

"Heya, Squirt." Jet said, her voice filtered through her phone. "How've you been?"

"Fine." Inkley replied. "What do you want?"

"Can't a loving sister call her little brother to check in on him?"

"You don't."

Jet huffed, audible even over the phone. "You're a little jerk, you know that?"

"Learned from the best."

Jet laughed. "Feel like hanging out with me this weekend, Squirt?"

"Yeah!"

"Mom's not listening, is she?"

Inkley looked over his shoulder and saw his mother sitting on the couch, reading. "No."

"Bring your shooter. I'll start training you how to use that thing right this weekend."

"Sweet."

"Alright Squirt, I'll be over to pick you up tomorrow afternoon. Have your crap ready."

"'Kay. See you then." Click. Inkley walked into the living room and handed his mother her phone. "Jet's gonna pick me up tomorrow."

His mother smiled at him and nodded. "Alright. You have everything you need for the weekend?" Inkley nodded. "Alright sweetie." She went back to her book.

Inkley went back to his room and couldn't help but pack all his things away in anticipation. The wait was already killing him, and later that night, for the first time since he had grown, he dreamed about being in a Turf War.

Though the day passed with excruciating slowness, Inkley eventually heard a knock on the door, and he raced downstairs to answer it. Jet was there, and blinked at Inkley as he threw the door open.

"Oh, hey." She said after a moment. "That was quick."

"I'm excited." Inkley said quietly.

"Jet?" Came their mother's voice from the kitchen.

"Hey mom." Jet called back. "Just picking Inkley up."

"Come here for a minute."

With a frown and a shrug, Jet walked past Inkley towards the kitchen. "Go get your stuff."

Inkley heard muffled talking as he jogged up the stairs. He slowed near the top and tried to listen, but found he still couldn't. They're whispering. Inkley sighed as he shuffled into his room and slung his bag over his shoulder. Pausing for a moment, he looked around his room, checking to make sure he had everything he needed, and that everything was in its proper place. Satisfied, he walked out, closed his door, and went down the stairs. He stepped softly, and shuffled to the kitchen. Leaning through the doorway, Inkley spied Jet leaning on the counter, her arms crossed and a somewhat irritated look on her face. Their mother had almost the exact same posture.

"You know-" His mother began, but she seized up slightly, and Inkley knew she saw him. "-You know how important it is." She finished quickly. She huffed softly. "Have a nice weekend, you two."

"Yeah." Jet replied. "Right. Let's get going, Inkley."

Inkley followed Jet out the door, stopping only to shout "Bye mom!" before he closed it.

Jet led the way to train station, but seemed distracted as she did so.

"What were you guys talking about?" Inkley asked.

"Huh? Oh - uh, nothing really. Grown-up stuff." Jet told him. Inkley was about to respond when she shook her head. "Boring stuff, Squirt. Bills and junk like that."

"Oh."

"Yeah." She sighed, and looked away for a moment. Inkley thought about how sad she looked in that instant. It was gone in a second though, replaced by her usual smile. "But enough about that. Tomorrow, we're gonna teach you to splat like a pro."

Inkley thought it was weird that she said we, but ignored it. The ride to jet's neighborhood was quiet, and in what seemed like no time at all, they were at the door to her apartment. Jet didn't even have to unlock the door, which Inkley found strange. She usually locked her door when she went out. Her apartment was messier than usual, which was just as strange, because Inkley knew for a fact that Jet had a certain level of mess she liked to keep. An open pizza-box with a half-eaten pizza sat on the table in front of the couch, and over an armrest, a pink jacket was draped. Inkley's stomach sank.

"Looooook who I brought." Jet said, closing the door behind her.

"Ohmygosh, Inkley!"

Inkley looked to the right, towards Jet's kitchen. Synthia was standing there, hands clasped together. And then she came at him. Synthia embraced Inkley, and he knew it was useless to fight it. All he could do was groan into her shoulder as she squeezed the breath out of his lungs.

Nearly two minutes passed, and at length, Synthia released Inkley. "It's nice seeing you again." She said.

Inkley looked at the floor and mumbled a response. Jet slapped his shoulder and laughed. "Don't look so down, Squirt." She told him. "Think of it like this; there's at least one person guaranteed to not hate your guts."

Inkley huffed and looked at his sister. "Thanks."

Jet smiled innocently. "What? Don't look at me like that. I said at least."

Inkley sighed and went to the couch, dropping his bag next to it and flopping down. Jet and Synthia said something to each other, laughed, and then moved to join him, sitting on either side. The TV was on, and Jet picked up the remote from the table and idly flicked through channels.

"Wait. Was that..?" Jet said, sitting up suddenly. She went back a few channels. "Holy crap, Splat Hard! I didn't know this was on TV already."

Synthia cocked an eyebrow at Jet. "Isn't this movie a little… Risque for Inkley?"

Jet laughed and smirked at Inkley. "Risque? Oh, Synth, you've never seen what Inkley here has tacked on his door. It's super naughty."

Synthia smiled deviously, and at once, Inkley knew they were both against him. "Is that right? No, my sweet little Inkley could never be naughty, could he?"

Inkley leapt to his feet. "I-I need to ink!" He shouted, and ran for the bathroom.

Slamming the door, Inkley slumped against it and sighed. The whole world's out to get me. Inkley suddenly found that he did actually have to ink, and quickly relieved himself. While washing his hands, he looked at himself in the mirror. Inkley stuck his tongue out at his reflection, and decided it was time to let his tentacles down. Flicking the water from his hands, he removed the band from tentacles, and they fell limply against his cheeks. With a smile and a thought, Inkley watched as he left tentacle twitched, and wormed up to scratch at the tip of his nose. Being able to do that is great.

Taking a breath, Inkley exited the bathroom, ready for whatever awaited him. Both Jet and Synthia seemed fairly busy with the movie they were watching. They paid him little heed as he went to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Only when he started routing through her food did Jet seem to notice.

"Hey, Squirt." She said, craning her neck to see over Synthia's head. "What're you doing?"

"Food." Inkley replied, not bothering to look back.

"Pizza."

Inkley turned to look at Jet. "How long's that been sitting out?"

"Only, like, five hours."

Inkley made a disgusted noise and continued to dig through Jet's fridge.

Jet groaned and rose from her seat. She came up to Inkley and planted a hand on his shoulder. "Why do you always gotta eat my food? Doesn't mom feed you?"

"Yeah." Inkley replied, closing the fridge and looking up at Jet. "But you usually have better snacks."

Jet scoffed, putting on a hurt look. "Are you implying that I don't have the best snacks?" She rustled Inkley's tentacles and stepped over to the cupboard beside the fridge. Opening it, she removed a bright red bag and handed it to Inkley. "I got these because Zoom said he liked them. But he didn't come over today, so screw him. Go nuts, kiddo."

Jet went back to her seat. Inkley looked down at the bag. Cuddlefish brand coral chips. Nacho cheese flavored. Inkley licked his lips as he pulled the bag open, stuffed his nose into the opening, and breathed in deeply. The smell was almost intoxicating. He immediately stuffed a handful of chips into his mouth, and though he had trouble actually chewing, he was very satisfied by the outcome of his snack-hunt.

He went back to his seat between Jet and Synthia, and watched the movie with them. It was an action movie, containing quite a bit of profanity and violence. Inkley knew Synthia was right that he probably wasn't the movie's target audience. He also knew even more that his mother would be mad at him for watching it, and even more mad at Jet for letting him watch it. But, of course, that was the allure of spending weekends at Jet's.

Inkley had finished nearly half the bag of chips when he believed the movie was coming to a close, though both jet and Synthia helped him by taking the occasional handful. The hero had rescued his girlfriend from the villain, blown up the warehouse, and won a fist-fight against the villain's most loyal goon. In the background, as the hero and his girlfriend walked away from the burning warehouse, the villain was being manhandled by two men in police uniforms. The hero stopped suddenly, spun his girlfriend around, and kissed her. And then -

Synthia slapped a hand over Inkley's eyes. "Jet!" She hissed. Inkley groaned.

"Whoa, I think that's enough of that!" Jet said quickly, and Inkley heard the channel change.

Synthia's hand fell away from Inkley's face. "What was that for?" He asked, looking between Synthia and Jet. Jet huffed at him and looked to the TV, while Synthia blushed and looked away.

They watched a documentary about the Great Turf War for a while. Inkley was bored to tears by it, and could tell that Jet and Synthia were, too. But no one said anything for the longest time.

"Hey, Squirt." Jet said at last. "Synthia here's gonna be helping me teach you."

"Huh?"

"Yeah. I was thinking, it'd be good for you to learn from more than one person, you know?" Jet shrugged. "I mean, I'm great and all, but Synthia's not half bad, and she uses shooters more than I do. Since you've got a Splattershot Junior, I figured she could help you handle shooters better."

Inkley thought for a moment. "'Kay." Was the best response he had.

"Zoom's supposed to be there to teach you about rollers and how to deal with them, but he's probably going to ditch again. Jerk." Jet continued. "I've got a little room booked in the Dojo, all day tomorrow. By Sunday morning, you're going to be sore, and better than you are now. It's gonna be-" Jet paused as her phone rang. With a sigh, she picked it up and looked at it. Standing, she answered. "Hey, Cherry. What's up?" Jet walked away from the couch, casually moving towards the kitchen. "Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Nooooo, that's totally fine. It's cool; I'm happy for you, really. Oh? Yeah, that sounds great. Sunday afternoon? Sure. Yeah, I'll see you later, too, bye." Jet dropped her phone on the counter and slapped her open palm against her thigh. "Splat!"

Synthia stood. "What's wrong?"

Jet looked at her. "Come here for a sec; we need to talk about Cherry." She looked at Inkley. "You can watch whatever you want, Squirt."

Synthia went to Jet, and Inkley picked up the remote and flipped the channels. While doing so, he heard snippets of their conversation.

"Remember, she was dating a Tangerine? Well..."

"... Can't quit! She was our final member… Has my favorite top!"

"Match on Sunday… What else could I say?"

"... Not a full team…. Can't compete…"

"What else could I say, Synth?"

Inkley quit channel-surfing, and looked over at them. They were both huddled together, their backs to him. Suddenly, Jet cast a look over her shoulder at Inkley.

… "Got an idea…"

Synthia followed Jet's gaze. "Really?"

"Either that, or we bail and admit to Cherry that she's better." Jet replied. "Remember, Cherry, the girl who cried when she won her first match? The girl who has your favorite top."

There was a long pause. "Fine. Let's do it."

Jet grinned, and suddenly hugged Synthia. "I knew you'd be cool, Synth! We'll talk about it during training."

The two of them huddled closer and continued whispering, but Inkley found he couldn't make any of it out. He turned his attention back to the TV. Callie and Marie were on either side of the screen, pointing out plays and highlights of the most recent professional turf war. Inkley watched with vague interest, finding himself just as interested in the hostesses as the subject of the show. Time passed in a blur, and before he knew it, the credits were rolling. Blinking, Inkley sat up, and a cascade of crumbs rolled down the front of his shirt. With a groan, he stood and brushed himself off.

"Well, I'm gonna head home now." Synthia said, standing at the door. She and Jet embraced quickly, and Synthia sent a wave to Inkley. "I'll see you two later."

"See you tomorrow, Synth." Jet called as Synthia walked out the door.

Inkley looked on the armrest of the couch, and realized Synthia's jacket was still sitting there. "Wait!" He shouted. "You're-" Slam! "-jacket." Inkley turned to Jet.

She just shrugged and sat down. "What? We can just give it to her tomorrow. I'm too lazy to chase her down, and so are you." Inkley shot her a look. "What? We're related. Don't think I don't know."

Inkley sighed and flopped back onto the couch. Once more, time passed in a blur. At some point, Jet went to her room, and stayed there for the rest of the night. Not too long after, Inkley found himself drifting to sleep, his body splayed awkwardly out on the couch.

He had been here before. Yes. He had definitely been here before. He heard laughter not far off, and he rose from wherever he was seated. Glancing back, he saw that his chair no longer existed. Not a moment later, he realized he was outside. On the beach. His feet were bare, and the warm sand felt amazing. He was only wearing a pair of baggy trunks. The sun was high in the sky, beating down on him, but a cool breeze rolled through. It felt amazing.

The laughter grew louder. He followed it. After walking for what seemed like an eternity, he spotted figures in the distance. They were in a pool of ink as blue as the sky, swimming and splashing while laughing with glee. This place was like some kind of oasis. He approached slowly, vaguely aware of the fact that this was really weird. The faces that were splashing in the pool seemed vaguely familiar. He had seen all these faces before, he was sure of it. Everyone gathered around the pool seemed not to notice his approach, and as he slid into the ink, they behaved as though he had always been there. The nearest inkling, a girl with long red tentacles, splashed him and dove under to avoid any counter attack. He spat out a glob of ink that had gotten into his mouth and laughed.

Time passed quickly, or so it seemed. He suddenly found himself lying on his back in the shallow end of the pool, while the others played. Something slid into view, blocking out the light. It took him a moment to adjust to the darkness, and he stared up at Luma's face. She look down at him, her tentacles draped over her shoulders and onto his chest. Her face moved closer to his.

"Inkley…" She said softly. "I need you to do something for me."

"What?" He replied, utterly entranced.

"Wake up…"

"H-huh..?"

"Wake up!"

Inkley nearly leapt out of his skin. He bolted upright. Jet stood there, her arms crossed, looking down at him. He groaned, and felt as though he had been here before…

"C'mon, kid." She said. "It's nearly noon."

Inkley rubbed the side of his head as he stood. "Seriously? Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

Jet scoffed. "Oh, so it's my fault?"

"Something like that." Inkley mumbled, crouching to dig out a new outfit from his bag. He stumbled towards the bathroom.

"Hury up! We're supposed to be at the Dojo in forty-five minutes!"

Inkley closed the bathroom door behind him, and went to splash cold water in his face. It rejuvenated him almost instantly. He relieved himself, brushed his teeth, and changed. Slouched over the sink, Inkley looked at himself in the mirror and grinned. He was feeling fresh. Today's a tentacles-down kind of day, he decided. He didn't bother putting his tentacles up like he normally did, and left the bathroom with his dirty clothes bundled under his arm.

"Hurry up." Jet told him. "We're gonna grab breakfast on the way there."

Inkley stuffed his dirty clothes into his bag, threw it over his shoulder, and stood. Something came to him, and he snatched up Synthia's jacket off the couch, carefully putting in his bag, in a different pouch than his dirty clothes. Satisfied, he followed Jet, who had her own bag with her, out the door. Not a minute later, they were out the door of Jet's apartment building, and on their way down the street. Inkley once again felt like he had been in this position before, and he suddenly realized why. Not too far down the street, he spotted the sign for Fishy Frank's.

"What're we doin'?" Inkley asked, looking up at Jet.

"Grabbing breakfast." She said matter-of-factly. "Duh."

"At Fishy Frank's?"

"Yeah." She looked at him like he was an idiot. "Frank makes some of the best cinnamon rolls in Inkopolis."

Inkley scrunched up his face and said nothing else. They entered Fishy Frank's, which Inkley was surprised to find half-full. Despite this, Fishy Frank leaned over the counter to wave at Jet.

"Hey, if it isn't my favorite customer." He said jovially.

"Thanks, Frank." Jet replied.

The jellyfish laughed. "I was talkin' to the little guy." The look on Jet's face made Inkley snort with laughter. Fishy Frank stabbed a tentacle in Inkley's direction. "See? He gets it."

Jet sighed and shook her head, though her smile betrayed her. "Alright, alright. We're just here for breakfast."

Fishy Frank nodded. "The usual?" Jet nodded. "Alright. The next batch'll be up in a few minutes. You two'll be gettin' the freshest rolls." He leaned over the counter and glanced around. "Don't tell anyone else, though." He added with a good-natured wink.

Jet and Inkley took a seat on the stools at the counter. Inkley set his bag down by his feet. They sat in silence for a moment, and Inkley was content to spend the time idly kicking his feet in the air. Jet glanced at him from the corner of her eye.

"You have a good week, Squirt?"

Inkley was suddenly very tempted to tell her everything that had happened. He knew she would never tell mom, and even more than that, he had the feeling she would even encourage his behavior. But then he remembered where he was. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to tell her, but knew that the counter in Fishy Frank's probably wasn't the best place to spill his heart out.

"Yeah. It was alright." Inkley finally replied.

"What'd you do?"

"Not much. Hung out at home, mostly. I watched some stuff online about shooters and turf wars. I showed my Splattershot to Brine, too."

"Hm." Was all Jet said for a moment. "Brine? That's the one around the block, right?" Inkley nodded. "He still all…" Jet paused for a moment, at a loss for words. "Twitchy?"

Inkley smiled at the way Jet phrased it. Before, he never would have called Brine twitchy, but it suddenly seemed to fit him very well. "Yeah."

"Synth used to be like that."

"She still is."

"Yeah. Folks never grow out of it." They both laughed.

They sat in silence for another minute. In that short period, Inkley became increasingly aware of the amazing smell that was drifting from the kitchen. Not long after, Fishy Frank emerged from the kitchen, carrying a plastic tray with nearly two dozen steaming cinnamon rolls on it. He set the tray down on a metal tabletop behind him, and busily wrapped two in wax paper, before setting both down before Jet and Inkley.

"There you go." Fishy Frank said. "That'll be four coins."

Jet dug in her pocket, and fished out a handful of coins. "See you later Frank."

They took their rolls and left for the nearest train station. Inkley immediately began unwrapping his cinnamon roll.

"Careful." Jet said casually,eyeing her own. "They're hot."

Inkley ignored her and took a bite as soon as he was able. And immediately regretted it. His tongue burned, and he chewed as carefully as possible before swallowing.

"Hot!"

"Yeah, dumby?" Jet asked, sending a sidelong glance at Inkley. She was silent for a moment. "But it was good, right?"

"Totally." They shared a laugh.

They made it to a train station not long after. The ride was short and uneventful, and they took the chance to eat while seated. The walk to the Battle Dojo was just as quiet. Among the crowd, Inkley could easily pick out Synthia's bright pink tentacles and apparel, with a bright red duffel bag at her feet. She waved happily as they approached, and Inkley hurried to dig out Synthia's jacket.

Synthia saw the flash of pink and beamed as Inkley presented her jacket. "Oh, how sweet of you!" She cried, taking the chance to sweep Inkley up in a tight hug. "So very chivalrous. Or something."

There was a ring from Jet, and she pulled her phone out of her pocket. She read something and shrugged. "Zoom said he'll be here in around half an hour. Let's get started without him."

Synthia nudged Inkley with her elbow. "Be a dear and carry my bag?"

Inkley huffed and rolled his eyes, but picked up her bag anyway. It was lighter than he expected, and he nearly tumbled onto his rear when he lifted it from the ground.

"Careful, Squirt." Jet told him, though neither she or Synthia stopped walking.

Inkley jogged to catch up to them, and as a trio, they entered the Battle Dojo.

Inkley was immediately struck by how welcoming the place seemed. Though plain, everything was set up in a way that welcomed relaxation. There were two benches to either side of the entrance, both of which were fully occupied by six inklings all wearing similar clothes. A trophy case sat on the left side of the room, filled with various trophies, medals, and beside that hung a strange set of electronic devices. In the center of the room sat a large, arc-shaped desk, with three inklings sitting behind it. One of them stared at the screen of a computer, another busily flipped through a hefty ledger, and the third, an overly-enthused yellow inkboy seated in the center of the arc, seemed to simply wait for someone to approach.

The center clerk beamed at Jet. "He-ell-low! Welcome to the Battle Dojo. How can I help you today?"

"I've got a training room booked for Jet."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, but I need the full name."

Jet sighed and rolled her eyes. She hates our last name. "Inkelton."

Inkley couldn't blame her. He couldn't help but cringe whenever people brought up his initials.

"Thank you…" The clerk said. "Ah, yes, there you are. Room thirteen. Take the elevator down, the room will be down the hall, on your left side." And as they walked away, the clerk called "Thank you for choosing the Battle Dojo!"

"What a squid." Jet huffed.

They walked to the elevator and pressed the call button. The wait, though only a minute long, felt like an eternity. Eventually, the doors slid open, and a trio of inklings with splotches of ink of their clothes, and full-looking bags on their backs filtered out of the elevator. Jet, Synthia, and Inkley took their place, and the elevator went downwards. The ride lasted longer than Inkley would have expected, and he found himself wondering just how deep the actual Dojo was.

The downward plunge did eventually end, and the doors slid open to reveal a rather barren hallway, where everything but the numbers on the doors was a uniform white. It strongly contrasted the entrance building above, and Inkley was immediately reminded of how it seemed sterile, almost like a hospital. The hallways stretched out for quite a while. It was lined with white doors, and each door had a number on it. Door One was on the left, Two on the right, and it went in such a pattern all the way down. At the far end of the hall was a heavier door, with what looked like an outdated computer monitor in the wall beside it.

"What's that?" Inkley asked, pointing to the end of the hall.

"That's the Battle Room." Jet replied. "Most famous part of the Dojo. Hard to book though. It's really neat; they run a simulation that rebuilds a few popular turf war spots, and two squids can go head-to-head and try to score points by popping balloons. It's as dumb as it sounds, but it's really fun."

"But that's not what we're here for." Synthia said, jabbing an elbow into Jet's side. "Try not to get carried away."

Jet put on a hurt look. "Me? Carried away? As if." She shook her head and pointed down the hall. "Our room's down here. Hurry up, little squiddies."

Jet led the way towards room thirteen. She slid it open without effort, and all three of them entered. Synthia, being the last to enter, closed the door behind her.

The room was solid white, just like the hallway. There were no decorations, nothing other than the spotless white. Two rows of overhead lighting fixtures lit the room, and the artificial light it produced was harsh enough to make Inkley squint as he entered.

"I don't like this." Inkley said suddenly.

Jet laughed. "What? The room? Yeah, they make them like this on purpose. It's supposed to make you want to paint it a bunch of different colors. Psychology, or some crud like that." She shook her head. "It certainly works, though."

Synthia grinned from ear to ear. "Well, let's make a mess already."

Jet patted her bag. "Sounds like a plan."

Inkley set Synthia's bag down for her, and quickly set to work on digging out and preparing his splattershot Junior. Jet and Synthia did likewise, and in just a few moments, the three of them stood with their weapons at the ready. Synthia had a fairly new-looking Jet Squelcher, painted neon pink.

"I've had this thing for a month or two. It's great." She said, adding a wink at the end.

"Quit talkin' and put it to use, then." Jet interrupted. "This white's starting to hurt my eyes. Heck, right now, I'd even prefer Inkley's gross shade of green to this."

Inkley huffed and stuck his tongue out at Jet. But he said nothing, and instead transformed into a squid. For a moment, all he could do was flop about uselessly, but a small pool of ink formed beneath him, and at length, he sunk into it. A few seconds later, he could feel that his tank was full, and he resurfaced, changing back into humanoid form as he rose. With a glance, Inkley could tell that both Synthia and Jet were doing the same thing he had done. He waited for them to resurface.

Jet looked at him and gave him an all-too-familiar grin. "Well, what are you waiting for? Let's make a mess!"