Joey - I had a lot of fun writing those parts. When I saw DJ Octavio return at the end, I was so hyped. Ah, the story mode was phenomenal.
It was obvious that Frye was worried about Agent 3. She never stopped talking to him as they all waited for the Octobot King to touch down. His voice was weak, and they knew it was taking every last bit of strength to speak, but Frye continued to speak. It was a painful scene to watch. Although they won the fight, they might have suffered one casualty.
Frye paced back and forth. She did her best to hold back more tears. Her chest was heavy with fear, her soul praying for Agent 3's safe return and full recovery.
"Don't forget what you told that bear. You and I have some unfinished business. We can't do business if you conk out on me, Hotshot. C'mon, let me hear it."
No response.
"Syrus!" She yelled.
"…I'm thinking," he replied weakly.
"Don't think, just talk," she stated, basically pleading with him. "You have to rizz me up at any moment."
The group congregated at the first site in Alterna.
"Rizz is a stupid term," Syrus sighed. The softness of his voice did not fill Frye with hope. She wanted to scream at DJ Octavio to hurry up, but she kept calm. Gradually, though, she was starting to lose it again.
'Calm down!' she chastised herself. 'He's not gonna die. Hotshot can make it.'
Everyone saw the pain in her eyes and let her be Syrus' anchor to the living realm.
'Please, stay strong, Syrus. Stay strong.'
As she paced back and forth while lending Syrus her beautiful voice to lean on, she reflected on the hurricane of feelings she developed over the past month.
Frye was a tomboy in every sense of the word. She loved to play rough, she loved getting dirty, and she scoffed at the notion of romance. But, life had a way of throwing curveballs, and here she was, standing on the edge of something she never saw coming.
'He's barely alive, and I can't keep myself together. Why am I so weak when it matters the most?'
She spent her life avoiding mushy feelings. Frye loved her friends. That much was extremely obvious. Syrus was more of a rival. He was a friendly rival but a rival nonetheless. Instead of taking the direct approach like so many suitors tried, he chipped away at her defenses with more finesse than brute strength. Their very first dance, the event that started all of this for her, was perhaps the greatest night of her life. He grabbed her attention, and now he had more than that.
Syrus proved to her that he was not so easily rattled.
"Like you don't have any," she teased back. "What about our 'playful bantering?'"
No response.
"Don't think, Hotshot. Off rip, you gotta let the words flow," she told him.
"…"
"Hotshot?" She got nervous again.
"I'm drawing a blank," he replied, relieving Frye of some of her worries. "It's not that easy."
"That's rich coming from you. You never had problems performing before. What if I asked for a compliment? Or what if people start asking what you like most about me? If you gotta think about it, it's gonna look bad for you. You should be ready to say how hot I am or how great a dancer I am."
"But there's a lot I love about you that I can't pick just one."
Frye's brain shut down for a moment. She inhaled and looked to the sky.
"See? That's what I'm talking 'bout. Just let it flow."
Mortality had a way of humbling even the toughest souls. As she talked to him, Frye couldn't help but feel a knot in her chest - a knot that was equal parts fear and something else, something she wasn't ready to admit yet.
'It's that easy for you, huh? Why can you say it while I get embarrassed thinking about it?'
It had to be the fragility of the situation that forced these feelings to the surface. The realization that Syrus could be taken away from her at any second, that her greatest adversary's life was dangling by a thread. And in the tumultuous chaos, she was scared - scared she wouldn't get to say the words she held close to her three hearts.
She was the resilient one, the gatekeeper to the emotional garden, but now those gates were opening. She wanted to stay strong for him, yet the ache inside grew stronger. She didn't want to lose him, not after everything they had been through.
"You do make a great partner," he responded, and Frye knew he was smiling, teasing her like they so often did. "I also like your forehead, in all its massive glory.
It was getting harder to keep her composure. She didn't know it would hurt so badly. The impending loss, the possibility of a love never fully realized, was a bitter pill to swallow. Whether she was ready or not, she couldn't escape the truth: love, in all its complexities, had found its way into her heart.
"Okay, now you're pushing it," absentmindedly slid a piece of hair behind her ear. "But thank you."
Xxx Bolero xxX
The Octobot King's colossal form violently breached the atmosphere, crashing down upon Alterna with a deafening roar. The enormous feet pulverized the ground, creating a seismic impact that sent shockwaves through the artificial landscape. As the massive machine landed, a frigid, oppressive aura enveloped the surroundings.
DJ Octavio, urgency etched on his face, clamored out of the cockpit and rushed to the hatch. Ken the Smallfry darted out, but his caretaker, a quiet and motionless Octoling, remained unmoving. Octavio, with a sinking feeling, reached for the still form. The Octoling's body, once full of vigor, now sent chills through Octavio's core – a coldness that covered Syrus' body.
The Octarian Leader hopped down and laid the agent on the tarp his team rolled out for him.
"He's freezing," he said. "If not for his mate, he would've passed out long ago."
Syrus' once dark skin now wore an unsettling pallor, the biting cold claiming its territory. The cloth wrapped around his missing stub had transformed into a frozen shroud, a chilling testament to the frigid battle he had endured. Despite the team's attempts to pry the Splatana from his grasp, Syrus clung to it, an unyielding grip fueled by a soldier's determination.
Agent 9, the group's muscle, proposed a solution, "Okay, let's try this. I'll open his fingers, and you guys grab the blade."
But Agent 2, with a sharp intuition born of battle-hardened experience, screeched, "NO! Take him inside, get him warm, and then take the sword away. You'll snap his fingers off!"
Amid the urgency, Agent 7 swiftly draped his jacket over Syrus, joining forces with Luke to carry the soldier inside the mobile home. The door closed behind them, shutting out the biting cold that sought to claim them all.
As the safe haven enveloped them, Frye stood outside, her gaze fixated on Syrus's lifeless form retreating into the shelter. The wholesome yet haunting image of his peaceful face burned into her memory. The chill of worry gripped her heart.
Shiver approached and rubbed the girl's back with a comforting hand.
"How do you feel?"
Frye scoffed. "Stressed. I wanna take a nice hot bath and sleep."
"Ay? (What time is it anyway?)"
Marie checked. Heaven knows she wanted the same things Frye mentioned.
"It's past nine. That's not too bad, I guess."
Callie's hands enveloped Frye's, forming a bond of solidarity in the face of uncertainty. Her determined expression held the weight of unspoken promises, a beacon of hope amidst the unknowns.
"This isn't the end," Callie declared, her voice carrying a resolute undertone. "Syrus is going to pull through, and the two of you will perform the greatest dance in history. Stay strong."
The words hung in the air like a melody of optimism, a rallying cry that echoed through the confines of their shared resolve. Frye, her spirits lifted by the maiden of love's conviction, felt a surge of determination coursing through her.
The promise of a dance, a celebration of life yet to unfold, held a profound significance. Syrus, the agent of stealth, had vowed to make it an unforgettable experience. Frye embraced the optimism, her grin reflecting the spirit of a dancer ready to conquer the stage.
"You're right," she affirmed, the glint of determination in her eyes matching the intensity of Callie's encouragement. "I gotta keep my moves fresh."
Callie's beaming smile shined like the sun, a radiant acknowledgment of the strength found in unity and the unwavering resilience sparked by the prospect of a future dance, a dance that would transcend the confines of the present challenges. She could not wait to see the fruit of Syrus' planning.
"Everyone!" a worried cry filled the island.
From the sky, an orange squid landed close by, an orange puddle formed upon landing. Emerging from the orange puddle, Mother Sabrina ran to the group and enveloped her precious children in back-breaking hugs. Frye, Shiver, and Big Man grunted from shared pain as the mother pillar squeezed them tight.
"I was so worried about you guys. Don't you ever pull this kind of stunt again!"
She let them go and turned to the three Inkadians: Clora, Callie, and Marie.
"My boys?"
Callie pointed to the mobile home. "Syrus is resting in there. Zane and Luke just took him inside."
The two agents in question returned just in time to be crushed by the mother figure.
"He was freezing to the touch," Marie stated with an uneasy expression. She didn't know if he would make it, or if the epic space battle took more than its toll on the agent. "I couldn't clean his wounds yet."
Sabrina released a heavy sigh.
"So much happened in a short time. I need a vacation. Can someone give me a status report on Splatsville?"
"Affirmative," responded the omniscient artificial intelligence, surprising Sabrina with her answer.
"Whoa! Who is that?"
"That's O.R.C.A," Luke introduced her. "She's basically the guardian of this place."
"The damages caused by the fuzzy incident were intermediate. There were no casualties, but many buildings have been severely damaged. Those encapsulated in the fuzzy ooze will survive, but it will take time to shed their cocoons. Some were injured but nothing life-threatening."
Sabrina breathed another sigh, one of relief.
"That's great news. Thank you, O.R.C.A," she then whispered, "I'm talking to a robot," and waved it off. "Anyway, Chase and Olivia are fine, but their hair isn't changing. They passed out right after Syrus defeated Mr. Grizz, I guess. Tobias is taking care of them as we speak. I'm going to tend to Syrus. I'm sure I can work around his frostbite, and then Tobias and I will head back to Splatsville."
Sabrina left the group to their musings.
"A pillar's work is never over," Agent 7 commented. "What is our next step?"
"Taking care of the fuzzy ooze left in the other sites," Agent 2 answered for her. "There's still some traces left."
"When Deep Cut told you guys to meet up for a final brawl, we had to leave the sites dirty," Callie pointed out.
"And stop Agent 3 from doing overtime," Marie muttered, but everyone still heard it. "But, the main threat is over, we rescued Gramps, and now, we can go at our own pace."
"We still have to free the Great Zapfish," Frye pointed out. "The GZ is waiting for us."
The group brainstormed. As they did, DJ Octavio and Cuttlefish found themselves perched atop the Octobot King, exchanging banter like old pals who hadn't skipped a beat.
"Thanks for the backup, Octavio," Cuttlefish said with an unseeable smile. "I'll admit, I was a bit worried about ya."
Octavio scoffed, waving a tentacle dismissively. "Worried? Please, no overgrown hairball was gonna mute my spicy wasabi beat. Now, I've got bigger fish to fry – my soldiers should be free of their mind-controlled trance."
Cuttlefish raised an inked eyebrow, "What are you going to do now?"
Octavio sighed heavily. "Don't know yet. Might take Phantom up on his offer to explore Splatsville," he admitted. "All this time, I've been trying to find a way for my people to live comfortably. If only I'd known about the Splatlands sooner."
Cuttlefish, ever the sarcastic Inkling, commented, "Aye, it's a charming place. Too hot and dry for my liking, but to each their own."
Octavio chuckled, acknowledging the truth in Cuttlefish's words. "What's a little heat? You've got some impressive soldiers yourself."
If Craig had a full body, he would have proudly puffed out his chest. "You're darn right. I've got the best team in the world."
Octavio chuckled, "Please, the only reason they succeeded was because Phantom did most of the work. Out of all your agents, he's definitely the best."
Cuttlefish mockingly gasped, "Now hold on a second! Don't be dissin' the new captain. She's the OG 3."
The banter continued as the two old friends shared a laugh, the tides of battle having left them weary and ready for retirement, but Cuttlefish studied his successor carefully. He was proud of her and her team's performance. Without him to guide them, the team pulled together and got the job done better than he could've hoped for. However, he also saw a distinct look in Clora's eyes and immediately knew what sort of thoughts she was having.
Later that night, when everyone settled down and resided in the mobile home for a well-deserved rest, the old squid found his successor sitting under the stars. It was well into the night, seeping into the very early morning, and the fake sky of Alterna revealed the stars and constellations.
The once-possessed Octolings remained unconscious and were placed under Octavio's supervision. As Sabrina said about her colleagues, the fuzzy hair didn't disappear.
"Penny for your thoughts?" he floated close to the Inkling girl.
"…hey, Gramps," Clora said softly. "I couldn't sleep."
"I know that feelin'. It's taken me some time, but I've gotten used to this dehydrated form. It's actually not that bad. I can move much faster than I used to."
To demonstrate, he swam around the captain with good speed and control. There was no cane to keep him upright, and his legs didn't lag behind. He no longer had legs, but he felt sprier than a spring sea cucumber.
The new captain giggled, "I'm glad you're safe."
"There's that smile. I know what's ailing ya, dear. You don't need to hide it from me."
Clora's face hardened, and she looked away from the elderly squid.
"You think you failed," he told her. "I know that's what you're thinking by the look in your eye."
She frowned and lowered her head. "I might as well have," she mumbled.
Captain Clora stared out over the ancient civilization, a heavy weight settling in her chest. Her eyes, tired and burdened, betrayed the toll of command.
Among her soldiers, one face haunted her thoughts – Syrus. She had made the gut-wrenching decision to send him on into space. It was a necessity, but the guilt clawed at her conscience. She couldn't escape the image of Syrus' unresponsive form being carried away to the mobile home. The knowledge that he may not make it weighed on her heavily.
Torn between duty and empathy, Clora questioned her choices. The burden of command, the responsibility of making decisions that could lead to the sacrifice of her own, gnawed at her soul. She had justified it as being the most optimal choice, but the personal cost felt unbearable.
"I almost lost you too," she said. The image of Cuttlefish's dehydrated body haunted her as well. Before their tears of life revived the old sea captain, she firmly believed he was dead, and it was her tardiness that caused it. Even now, she blamed herself.
"If I was faster, we could've saved you. Instead, I sat by and advised from afar. If I took more initiative…"
"The events wouldn't have changed," Craig interrupted her. "I still would've wound up like this, but that's okay, dear. I do not hold you accountable one bit."
"But you should!" She rounded on her predecessor.
Guilt washed over her like a relentless tide. She clenched her fists, fighting back the tears that threatened to betray her resolve. The weight of leadership pressed upon her shoulders, reminding her that sacrifice was an inevitable companion in the pursuit of safeguarding the world.
"It's my responsibility to lead the group. It's my responsibility to make sure everyone survives. It's my responsibility to…" Clora took a steadying breath, her jaw set in acceptance.
Cuttlefish took a deep breath and exhaled.
"There is no such thing as a good war, Clora," he said. "In our line of duty, people's lives hang by a thread, our comrades included, but the only thing we can do is fight. You of all squids should know that. When you first joined the Splatoon, you found out that the stakes were high, and failure may result in death. That's why I gave you tips. That's why I guided you as best I could because I couldn't bear to see a young girl like yourself meet your end before your time. My granddaughters as well.
I've seen my fair share of loss, Clora, and trust me, the rages of war do not heal immediately. The price is steep, and it affects everyone. However, protecting our world and the countries within will require painful sacrifices, and Agent 3 was ready to do just that, just as you did all those years ago when you held the same title."
The haunting specter of guilt lingered in the shadows of her mind.
"Like me, be proud of your soldiers, Clora. Let them know that they will always have you in their corner. I know Agent 3 will survive. He's the only one aside from you with a fire stronger than anyone else I've come across."
Craig reached over and placed a tentacle on Clora's shoulder.
"Stand proud, Captain Clora. Your team is strong."
She couldn't hold back the dam any longer. All her bottled-up grief exploded, and fresh tears flooded from her eyes like a waterfall. Clora cried.
"I'm sorry, Gramps," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."
Cuttlefish wrapped his appendages around her head and placed her close to his beard.
"Hey hey hey, it's okay, dear. It's okay. I'm still living. I ain't going anywhere just yet. My wish now is to see you girls start your own families. I need some great-grandchildren to spoil."
Xxx Bolero xxX
Alterna proved to be a technological wonder as the first rays of dawn painted the sky with hues of pink and gold, creating the perfect representation of sunrise.
Frye was the only one awake. She was used to getting up before the crack of dawn. Normally, she would use the extra time to get a good workout in or practice her dance moves, but after the whole ordeal with Mr. Grizz, she chose to simply enjoy the peace and quiet. While the group continued to sleep, Frye sat in silence, staring at the sole occupant of the bed directly beside her. She should've slept on the floor like Shiver and Big Man, but she was compelled to stay by Syrus' side.
Standing from her chair, the dancing squid stretched her lithe and flexible body. The first rays of artificial sunlight painted the room, and Frye's gaze, like a brushstroke, lingered on Syrus' sleeping countenance. His peaceful countenance, healing from the turmoil of their recent ordeal, bestowed upon him an ethereal allure. In the soft morning light, he seemed to embody a serenity that transformed him, rendering him more than just an agent, but a figure of quiet strength.
Frye, captivated by the spell of dawn and the tranquility that enveloped Syrus, found herself drawn to the subtle details of his face. His calm demeanor, etched in the peaceful lines of repose, added a layer of refinement that made him undeniably handsome in her eyes.
"I'm not handsome," she could almost hear him protest in her mind. But Frye, with a conspiratorial glint in her eyes, countered with a whispered declaration, "You're very handsome."
As if the room itself held its breath, Frye adjusted the sheets with thoughtful precision, tucking them around the agent as her face hovered slightly above his. In that intimate proximity, she leaned in, her breath mingling with the quiet rhythm of his peaceful slumber.
Listening to his breathing, soft but frequent, Frye found a reassuring cadence. The delicate symphony of inhales and exhales played like a melody, each note attesting to the unbroken rhythm of life. The absence of sporadic skips, the steady flow of breath, whispered a comforting truth—Syrus was fine and very much alive.
The weight of the revelation pressed against Frye's chest, threatening to burst forth in an overwhelming tide of emotion. A great big smile, radiant and unrestrained, painted her face, a stark contrast to the torrent of feelings swirling within.
She glanced around, relieved to find the others still lost in the embrace of sleep. Shielded by the stillness of dawn, she allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. With a silent step, she lowered her head onto Syrus' chest, her teary eyes hidden from the world.
The sheets, now a clandestine canvas for her silent tears, absorbed the waves of relief and joy that washed over her. The magnitude of the moment, the weight of the unspoken fear lifting from her shoulders, proved to be an overwhelming force. No words could capture the crescendo of emotions that enveloped her, drowning her in a tidal wave of happiness.
The room, a cocoon of secrets and shared stories, bore witness to the dramatic tableau. In the grip of her emotional tempest, Frye clung to the sheets as if anchoring herself to the reality of Syrus' heartbeat beneath her.
"Thank you," her muffled whispers bore into the sheets. "Thank you for coming back to me."
More time passed, and finally, the group started to stir from their slumber.
Big Man and Zane were the first to rise, followed by the Octoling couple, Luke and Shiver. Soon, the Squid Sisters woke up and joined the others in morning stretches. Their collective gaze fixated on their still unconscious friend. The air held a tense anticipation as if the mere act of opening their eyes could alter the reality they faced.
In the quietude of the morning, the scene unfolded much like a hesitant dream. He lay there, still, in the same position they had left him the night before. A part of them half-expected him to rise with the sunrise, as if the challenges of the previous day were a mere illusion. Yet, the reality lingered – even the bravest needed time to rest after enduring the crucible of battle.
His face, once pallid and marked by the ordeal, now bore the returning flush of vitality. The steady rise and fall of his chest signaled the rhythmic dance of breath, a lifeline connecting him to the realm of the living. In the hushed atmosphere, relief washed over the onlookers like a soothing tide.
Even in the serenity of slumber, he fought against the encroaching light, a testament to the resilience that lay within him. Ken the Smallfry, ever vigilant, bounced on the bed with a burst of enthusiasm, settling close to his caretaker. Refusing to leave his side, the tiny companion dove into a bag, briefly appeasing his hunger in a lively display of companionship.
The morning unfolded as a delicate interplay of hope and recovery, a vivid reminder that even in the face of darkness, the promise of a new day held the potential for renewal and resurgence. As such, the NSS and Deep Cut climbed to the surface to check up on the city.
The once vibrant heart of Splatsville now lay in disarray, broken debris and shattered glass strewn across the streets like remnants of a chaotic tapestry. The cleanup efforts were underway, a symphony of determination as Splatlandians, a bustling sea of industrious souls, darted back and forth with tools and materials to reclaim their beloved Square.
Mother Sabrina and Uncle Tobias, the unwavering pillars of their community, led the charge. Their tentacles, usually symbols of guidance, were now extensions of their commitment as they issued commands and lent their strength to the arduous task of rebuilding.
"Everyone's hard at work," Luke remarked, his sleeves rolled up in preparation for the impending labor. "I'm going to be called in anyway, so I might as well grab a hard hat and get to work. I'll see you guys later."
With a fist bump between Luke and Zane, and a playful chin tickle for Shiver, the group dispersed. Agent 9 seamlessly integrated into the city repairs, while Clora and the Squid Sisters in disguise followed Deep Cut to replenish their energy. Agent 7, carrying the weight of recent events, embarked on a mission to update Syrus' little sister on the truth.
In the wake of their recent battle, the world had witnessed the fight play out, but only a select few— the NSS, Deep Cut, the Parental Four, and perhaps Maya—knew the intricate tapestry of truths woven beneath the surface. Agent 7 spent the short ride contemplating how he was going to explain the news to his surrogate little sister. Thankfully, the fuzzy ooze didn't reach that far, and the twin's home was unharmed.
When he arrived and entered the yard, the father was just setting out to assist in the cleanup. He saw Zane walking up and yelled to the girls inside, where the duo immediately heard a stampede increase in volume.
"Good luck, it's good to see you," he said and moved out of the way.
Maya burst through the front door, hair ragged like she just woke up, and scanned the yard, a force of nature. Sophia and Isabella emerged soon after, spotted Zane, and sprinted toward him.
Hugs enveloped the scene as Maya and her friends embraced the older Splatlandian, their combined force knocking the agent of speed off his feet and onto his bottom.
"Glad to see you all too," he chuckled. "How is everyone?"
Isabella, the first to recover from the joyous reunion, voiced the concern that had lingered in their thoughts. "We were worried about you. We heard you were attacked."
In response, Zane, a comforting figure in their lives, ruffled Isabella's head, a small gesture that carried the weight of reassurance. A toothy grin adorned his face as he sought to alleviate their fears. "Yeah, someone thought they could get the drop on us, but we showed them. I feel bad for the poor fool who got destroyed by Syrus."
As the words lingered in the air, a subtle shift in atmosphere descended upon the trio. Isabella, her inkling hair shifting hues like a living canvas, noticed the absence of her brother.
"Where is Syrus?" she asked.
Maya's face lit up, a radiant burst of joy, and without a moment's hesitation, she and the twins darted back inside to gather their belongings. As Zane waited, the twins' mother emerged from the house, approaching the young man with a mix of concern and curiosity etched on her face.
"Maya told us what happened? Are you okay?" she inquired, her eyes reflecting the parental worry that transcended mere words.
"Oh yeah, I'm doing great," Zane replied with a nonchalant grin. "It was hectic. I was asleep and woke up to being strangled. I had to smash the robber's face in with my lamp, and while I was being gunned down at Eeltail Alley, Syrus came to give me a hand."
The parents could only shake their heads, a mix of disbelief and admiration lingering in their expressions. Zane explained the best he could without revealing too much info. He explained the mystery of the old man in the sewer and spun a tale of treasure lurking in its murky depths and how another opposition sought to kill them for taking what was theirs.
They seemed to buy it.
"Told ya," the father, an Inkling man of few words, commented, his expression a mix of subtle triumph.
His wife scowled, her warning clear, "If I catch you dumpster diving, you will never set foot in our house again." Yet, her stern gaze hinted at a different concern. The memories of the space battle played in the wife's mind, and she couldn't hold back the pressing question any longer.
"Zane," she began, her voice carrying the weight of suspicion, "I need you to be one hundred with us. Were you guys involved in that space fiasco?" The gravity of the situation reflected in her eyes, a silent plea for honesty.
The casual smile on Zane's face wavered, nearly faltering. But, in a moment of composure, he appeared confused instead, deflecting with practiced ease, "I don't know what kind of shenanigans you think we get up to, but space travel is a little pushing it. We saw the news feed elsewhere."
But the parents were not swayed by the diversion. The mother, arms crossed, pressed further, "Zane, how many Octolings do you know with a pet Salmonid? What Octoling could make Maya and my daughters hysterical?"
Zane, realizing the futility of denial, surrendered to the truth, his expression turning serious.
'Yeah, no point in hiding it.'
He checked the entrance for any signs of Maya and the twins. The girls were still getting ready as Zane turned his attention back to the parents.
"Okay, I'm not gonna lie, it got really bad for us," he confessed. "We all nearly died, including Deep Cut. I'm talking riddled with holes, nearly ran through with sharp objects, and walking into mine fields. Syrus got the worst of it. Yeah, that was him in space, and yes, he's still alive. Missing an arm and confined to a bed, but he's breathing. Luke is helping with repairs, and Deep Cut is doing their own thing."
A whistle escaped the husband's lips, a colored expression of impressed acknowledgment for the team's resilience. Meanwhile, the wife, feeling as if the ground had shifted beneath her, promptly fainted and fell in her husband's arms.
Xxx Bolero xxX
As Maya and her friends walked towards the train station, questions swirled in their minds like an untamed tempest. Yet, for the sake of her sanity, Maya chose to push aside the inquiries, prioritizing the imminent reunion with her brother. A bounce in her step mirrored the excitement building within her.
A full twenty-four hours without seeing Syrus had felt like an eternity, and the prospect of being reunited with him fueled Maya's eagerness. The ride back to the Square, however, unraveled a grim reality—the damages wrought by the fuzzy ooze. Encased in cocoons, the affected were cordoned off, a visual testament to the aftermath of the viral onslaught.
"This is awful," Sophia, the timid twin, voiced the shared dismay, her eyes tracing the boundaries of the quarantine.
Her bolder sister, echoing the sentiment, added, "I know, right. What was that thing?"
The trio turned to Zane, the secret agent among them, hoping for insight. The news buzzed with tales of the space phenomenon, the mysterious fighter becoming a topic of speculation. The mere mention of a fighter with a pet Smallfry easily connected the dots for most Splatlandians.
"Beats me," Zane openly lied to them, his eyes avoiding direct contact with the trio. "We were knee-deep in the sewers when it all went down, you know, deep underground, the whole nine yards."
They exchanged a skeptical glance, sensing the deception. Like the twins' parents, the girls weren't buying Zane's story.
"I don't believe you," Maya declared without hesitation, her hair turning a stormy dark blue. Zane couldn't help but chuckle at her boldness.
"I had to give it a shot," he said, his tone softening. "I was kind of hoping he'd wake up and spill the beans himself, but the guy hasn't cracked open his eyes since he got back."
The atmosphere shifted abruptly, and the girls' bubbling excitement evaporated, replaced by an uneasy air of fear and paranoia. The memory of the battered state in which they last saw the fighter haunted their minds.
Zane led them to the grate leading to Alterna and dropped the splatbomb of telling them to squeeze through.
"I'm not going down there," Maya declared, her voice filled with apprehension.
"If you want to see your brother, you don't have a choice," the green-haired speedster retorted sharply, leaving no room for hesitation.
Meanwhile, in Alterna, a lone agent found himself floating. His body felt weightless, but his mind was heavy. He fought for control, trying to move his body, but it ignored him. It was too tired, too exhausted to do anything except rest.
The dim glow of sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting a serene atmosphere over the dark room.
As he began to awaken, a sharp inhale escaped his lips. His body, once weightless, plummeted from the sudden increase of gravity, and each breath became a laborious effort. He regained control of his body, his fingers flexing, and his arm twitching. His eyelids, heavy with fatigue, fluttered open, revealing mysterious crimson-red eyes that held a mix of weariness and bewilderment.
His surroundings slowly came into focus, and he became aware of an adjacent sound. The whimpering of a ravenous Salmonid. He recognized it all too well.
The soft embrace of a familiar bed cradled him, its scent infused with lavender and an assortment of various hair products. Another weight bounced on the bed with enthusiastic fervor. Ken, his favorite pet, unleashed a joyful wail, ecstatic to find Syrus alive and moving.
"Okay, okay," the agent chuckled, his voice a reassuring balm. "I'm happy to see you too, buddy."
With careful tenderness, Syrus shifted his arm, the only one remaining intact, to ruffle Ken's hair. The Smallfry cooed in bliss, reveling in the attention to his favorite spot.
Summoning strength, Syrus willed his tired and sore body to sit up, only to be met with an immediate jolt of pain that forced him back down. A rhythmic pulse of pain throbbed through his body, a haunting reminder of the fierce struggle he had endured.
"Exspectavi quod. (I expected that.)"
Taking measured breaths, Syrus closed his eyes, assessing the situation. The fight against Mr. Grizz was over; he had emerged victorious. Yet, the coldness of space had nearly claimed him. It was nothing short of a miracle that he survived.
"Estoy vivo. (I'm alive.)"
As he rested, and soothed his little buddy's anxiety, Syrus pondered Agent 6's haunting question—what was he? A query destined to linger in his thoughts until his last breath.
Surveying the room, he recognized the unmistakable signs of the Squid Sisters' on-the-go hideout. The pulsating beats of Inkopolis nightlife seemed distant, offering a sanctuary from the chaos.
During the flight back to Earth, Syrus had come to terms with his impending demise. Frye's valiant efforts to keep him awake with heated conversation had been in vain. The allure of sleep proved too great, and he succumbed to the peaceful respite, thanking his Amada and friends for their time.
The universe, however, had other plans, as he had defiantly declared to Mr. Grizz in the cold expanse of space. It seemed destiny had a final dance in store for him with the Inkling of his dreams.
"Everyone's out and about, huh?" he noted, finding the balance to lift his body without succumbing to the intense pain. The room was empty save for him and Ken, but soon, more visitors arrived.
The door burst open, startling Ken, but Syrus remained calm. He looked to the entrance and smirked.
"Hey there," he greeted his new guests. "You look like you've seen a phantom."
Maya's multiple hearts were bashing against her chest. She neared the bed, seeing her brother smiling at her. Tears welled up in her eyes as she took in the sight of him. Memories of laughter, shared secrets, and the comfort of his protective presence flooded her mind. The girl's trembling hand reached out to touch his, as if seeking reassurance that he was truly there.
"Big brother," she whispered.
Syrus held his sister's hand, squeezing it tightly.
"Back from space," he joked, but his gaze was filled with pain and fatigue.
The girl's eyes glistened with relief, and a choked sob escaped her. Without hesitation, she threw her arms around him, embracing him as if she could lose him again at any moment.
"I thought I lost you," she murmured into his shoulder, her voice a mix of gratitude and fear.
He gently returned the embrace, his hand soothingly running through her hair.
"I had a lot of help," he whispered. "Next time you see Frye, tell her thanks for helping me out."
"Frater!" the twins entered the room and gathered around the bedridden agent. Isabella and Sophia joined Maya in their embrace of Syrus. They were just glad he was safe.
Zane watched with a smile from the entrance, letting the girls let everything out. Their worries, their frights, and their joy.