Frye and Big Man frantically sprinted up and down the streets of Splatsville in hot pursuit of Shiver, their scrunched up expression one of equal parts exhaustion and panic.
Glinting droplets of sweat permeating from their slicked skin dripped down the ridge of their brow and along the contours of their necks. Their limbs burned with an agonizing buildup of lactic acid with each step taken as they did their absolute best to track down Shiver and haul her back before they lost her to the cloying silk-gloved hands of circus life forever.
It wasn't hard, there were roller skate skid marks left behind all over the place amidst her trail of petty crimes. It seemed in her insanity Shiver had decided to take out her despair upon the world that shunned her, even if all it really amounted to was negligible acts of vandalism, disturbing the peace and skating around in public areas with blatantly obvious 'no skating allowed' signs.
There was no time to waste. They needed to be quick about apprehending Shiver, for down the long twisting road laid her final destination: Cirque Du Scylla. Its magnificent red and gold trimmed tent emanating sweet orchestral music belied a sinister atmosphere akin to gilded gates leading straight to the sulfurous depths of the underworld itself welcoming the dregs of society into its fold.
"We... need to... catch Shiver... before she reaches... that circus tent! Our friendship... depends on it!" Frye strained between each heaving breath, dragging her feet along every step of the way. She brought up a hand to wipe away the sweat on her prodigious forehead, unsettled by how much moisture she had wicked away. "Phew... Whoa, boy. Gimme... G-gimme a couple seconds, I'm cooking in my own juices over here."
"Ay... ay... ay... (We... can't keep this up... on foot...)" Big Man panted heavily, his tongue feeling more like a leather belt than anything. "Ay... ay... ay... (We need... to get... mobile.)"
"But how?" Frye queried, coming to a full stop to catch her breath. "I can't summon my eels in broad daylight."
"Ay... ay... (Don't you... worry about it...)" Big Man replied, stopping as well as he reached for his headdress. "Ay, ay, ay. (Perhaps it's finally time to demonstrate the fruits of my training and show you exactly why I am head of the Manta Clan!) With a resolute twinkle in his eyes he grabbed onto the headdress and opened a secret compartment within, eliciting a bright flash of light that exuded sheer unfettered might and ironically made him the center of attention.
"Ay, ay, ay: ay, ay, ay! (Secret of the Manta Clan: number twenty-five of the one hundred and eight bandit tools: different identity kit!)
Big Man was immediately enveloped by a plume of stinky smoke, causing Frye to avert her eyes. When the smoke cleared and the dust settled Big Man was gone, replaced by a totally different manta ray with a handlebar moustache that looked to be drawn on with a magic marker wearing a cheap police officer's cap that Frye could've swore came from the local party supply store.
"Ay, ay! (Follow me, my deputy!) Big Man declared before rushing on out to the streets and stopping an Inkling boy as he was speeding down on his e-scooter. He flashed the bemused Inkling his badge, a flimsy plastic thing with lustrous electroplated gold that was likely found as a prize in a box of cereal. "Ay! (Freeze, citizen!) Ay, ay, ay! (I'm an officer of the law! I need to commandeer this vehicle!)"
He wasted no time in abusing his newly acquired authority and wresting control of the e-scooter away from the Inkling who was protesting the whole time. With a set of wheels and a full battery charge Big Man gestured for Frye to join him on the vehicle, she hopped on without so much as a second thought. They immediately buzzed off into the distance, leaving behind an irate Inkling who had formed a newfound distrust for the police.
With their new ill-gained set of wheels Frye and Big Man achieved speeds that wouldn't have been possible through athletics alone, if marginally.
It was still just an e-scooter after all. Out of all the things they could've hijacked, it was this ugly environmentally conscious thing.
The e-scooter was undeniably cramped with the two of them on board seeing as it was never meant to accompany more than one rider at a time, not to mention Big Man's sheer surface area gave them phenomenal wind resistance making the ride slower than they would've been if Big Man was standing on his side. It also didn't help that he drove like someone's grandma.
"...Hey, maybe I should take the handlebars?" Frye suggested.
"Ay, ay, (But you don't have a license,)" replied Big Man.
"You don't need a license to drive a flippin' e-scooter, Big Man," Frye scoffed.
"Ay, ay, ay! (Be that as it may I'm not taking any chances if we get pulled over!)"
"By who?! You're already impersonating a cop!" she argued.
"Ay, ay! (It's the principle of things, Frye!)" Big Man retorted. "Ay, ay, ay. (You should've gotten your license back then, it would've made everything so much easier on us during public outings.)"
"Why would I need a license? I mean, Shiver doesn't even have one! Think about it, neither of us own a car, we just run everywhere, ride our beasts or at worst just take public transportation to get to where we need to. Besides, dealing with the DMV is a pain," she huffed with her cheeks puffed out.
"Ay, ay. (You're just afraid of flunking the written portion of the driver's test.) Ay, ay, ay, (If you can't handle that then I pale at the thought of seeing you behind the wheel of anything with an engine,)" he quipped.
"Oh, just shut up and drive, you walking sandwich platter!" Frye snapped exasperatedly.
A gaggle of bored children laid strewn about on the shady sidewalk beside the local skatepark, clad in all manner of colorful sticker laden helmets and safety pads as they mulled about their predicament.
They had gotten all geared up for a day of shredding on the half pipes and bowls and overall have a totally tubular time only to be sorely disappointed when they finally arrived on the scene to see the skate park flooded with water from a ruptured hydrant nearby.
It could be hours, days or weeks even before city service workers would drain the place dry. They had tried to make up for this unfortunate bout of bad luck by skating on the streets, only to realize that the various ledges, stair railing and benches had been capped off to deter the local hooligans from turning the city into their playground.
Thus, they opted to simply lay in the shade and verbally voice their frustrations instead of doing anything productive.
"Man, this bites," muttered the sky blue Inkling girl with the bangs covering her eyes.
"You can say that again," said the pudgy sea slug boy, idly spinning the wheels on his penny board.
"I wish something cool would happen," the brown sea urchin boy wondered aloud.
As if on cue, a blue blur in the distance rushed down the street and caught their attention.
Shiver, still wearing her disguise, rocketed along the sidewalk at great speeds with her roller skates, a long trail of bright yellow sparks trailing behind her. She wore a manic grin on her face as she launched herself high up off a peculiar ramp shaped graffiti sculpture, sailing across the air like a majestic dolphin whilst performing a jaw dropping 1080* backflip that would've given a normal Octoling whiplash.
She landed on the other end with a mad cackle sown in the winds, ripping a blackened streak along the concrete before vanishing as quickly as she appeared.
There was a brief moment of silence as the children took the time to process what they had just witnessed. They then immediately broke out into excited cheers, scrambling up to their feet (or foot in the case of the sea slug) as they cheered on what was quite possibly the most bodacious thing they've seen all day.
Thus, the urban legend of the 'The Siren Who Shreds' was born...
Tres let out a pained grunt as he was flung straight into an open dumpster, slamming right into the lid before landing with an unceremonious flump onto a revoltingly pungent pile of black garbage bags. He tried to pull himself out, only to have Quattro to crash right into him like a fastball to the gut shortly after. The ruckus caused the lid to tilt forward then shut the dumpster on both of them, leaving the Inklings to stew in the funk of the dank darkness like the trash they were.
"...Okay, after that harrowing experience I think I can safely say we've earned ourselves another well deserved break," Tres's muffled voice echoed from the confines of the dumpster as he punched the lid open and trudged on out of it.
Quattro followed shortly behind, stumbling out while wearing an expression of utter defeat upon his visage. "...What am I doing with my life?" he mumbled sullenly to himself as he brushed away all the loose garbage hanging off of him. "I have a doctorate in natural sciences. I can make way more money in a safer environment by staring at a stinking plant for hours at a time than running around playing secret agents."
"Yeah, but that sounds boring as sticks," Tres remarked as he shook off all the excess trash clinging to him.
"Well, those Octoling boys were especially hostile to you two," Sheldon quipped as he casually sauntered into the scene with Little Buddy sitting atop his shell. The two of them saw everything go down and did nothing but watch as Tres and Quattro were relentlessly hounded by a mob of furious Octarians across two city blocks.
"Waaah!" Little Buddy added.
"Gee, what gave it away? Was it when they ganged up on us or when they formed an angry mob to chase us down the streets?" Quattro snarked.
"You think you'd have learned not to question them in groups anymore," Sheldon remarked.
"Oh, yes. Because questioning an isolated individual worked out so much better," Quattro huffed sarcastically, pointing to the mark on his forehead left behind by the taser barbs.
Tres sighed heavily, bringing up a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as he quietly contemplated their time spent mucking about in the Xtapodi district.
Between every beating they've taken, every vicious spanking, macing and tasering, there has only been one constant throughout this entire debacle and that was every Octarian they've questioned. Every. Single. One. Regardless of gender, age, occupation, subrace and socioeconomic status, were doggedly determined to keep this taboo ritual hidden to themselves no matter what, just as Marina has said.
He had wished she had mentioned that they would resort to violence in an instant if they'd so much as mildly broach the subject before figuring it out the hard way.
And yet, there was still something else.
Something that he and Quattro have noticed but haven't yet been able to identify.
It happened when he was talking to the biker gang. There was something undeniably distinct about their change in behavior, something small, especially with the gang leader, that he couldn't put his finger on. Unfortunately he lacked the book smarts to have it pinned down, and he doubted Quattro did either despite being the more learned of the two. Which meant their sorry butts were still glued directly to square one and weren't going anywhere anytime soon.
"Look, we can have all this jibber-jabber later. Let's just grab a bite before we try anything stupid again," Tres suggested.
"Of that, I have no objections," replied Quattro. "Hopefully a hot meal will take the edge off."
"Luckily, when it comes to local cuisines that'll fill ya right up I know just the place..."