The splatfest was in full swing, the topic being the Sun versus Moon. Appropriate decorations were hung all over the plaza–inklings in their splatfest tee's and fancy sun and moon themed outfits clamored to the shops to get discounts and more fresh looks based on their teams. There was a big stage–all the guest hosts happily broaching the subject and amping up their quirky attitudes to eleven to preach about which team was better. It was everything she'd hoped for and more.
Waverly. That was the name she'd chosen once she slipped her big GrizzCo contract and finally got her freedom. As far as she was concerned, Seela was gone. Buried. She'd cut her teeth doing work for Barazushi, making her way up to being a proper model, leaving her old life behind. From there, her popularity in the fashion world only grew. Her eyes, were something they always sought after. Red, but cloudy, like unknown depths of a blood red sea. She always claimed they were natural–not wanting to taint the mystique that came with them, nor explain that she'd gotten them on a Salmon Run gone wrong, where she was nearly bludgeoned half to death. She shudders, looking ahead. Waverly was mid-match; currently struggling to carry her team duking it out on Starfish Main Stage. She was doing a gig for Toni Kensa–sporting a slick black moon-themed jacket with white star patterns down the back, tentacles swept back with white shades. She was mid swing, when both her, and the opposing splatana user stopped. The music was cut. The spawners trigger, bringing them all back to the lobby, emergency lights on.
"Eh…?" Waverly hears banging on the windows of the lobby, and her team and her opponents form a close circle.
Crash!
Glass breaks–and in come the salmonids. A huge horde, racing towards them. She stares, horrified, as they become clearly in view only as the red rotating lights go over them. Her breath quickens.
"These aren't going to be enough!" She says, "Anyone do shifts at GrizzCo? Get your work gear!" She yells, racing to her locker and breaking formation.
She couldn't focus. Her mind was racing, her breath quick. She grabs the splatana, and is hit with the image of a pan slamming into her head. She cries out and flinches at the memory, before shaking her head to regain her senses and returning to help the teams. Her ink had gone all red, even her eye-mask to that neon green, pink tinged hue. She wasn't in Inkopolis any more. Not in her head. She was in the field–surrounded by enemies, and the only thing she knew how to do was fight. Fight, and to survive, by any means. With every swing, every splat, she was copying a move she'd seen in a video, long ago. She was covered in ink and bile, and didn't even notice. Someone grabs her shoulder.
"Waverly!" They yell. She looks at them, shocked to see a fellow octarian, squinting as reality sets in. She'd gone ballistic. It was one of her teammates, concern on their face. "The crowds outside are getting attacked. We should help."
"R-r…right." Waverly agrees. "Let's do that.
In the square, security was working to keep the crowds safe. The stage was abandoned. Waverly struggled to see things for how they really were still, head aching a bit, as she was led outside. Her agent for the event found her and breathed a sigh of relief. "I was worried sick about you!" He says to her. "When we saw them attack the lobby, we thought you were a goner!"
Waverly stares blankly at him, "Priam, I want to go home." She says, deadpan.
"You're covered in ink, a-and there's bound to be another wave coming soon." Priam smiles nervously. "Are you having an episode? You'd mentioned that was a possibility."
Waverly looks at her distantly and simply walks off, wandering the square, dragging her splatana alongside her, sitting by a pile of boxes. There's a whooshing sound gently coming from the manhole cover beside her, and, curious, she gingerly looks inside. Something about it seemed familiar to her.
"This is an old unusable evacuation route." She remembers her squad lined up there during training. "As cadets, you won't partake in the fight. If it gets that bad, you'll be the first responders, getting people to safety–which doesn't include here."
Was there anyone down there still? She wonders. She didn't smell salmonid. She knew this one spot, they weren't using..so why couldn't she go and check?
She leans down, starting to, when she hears someone approaching and turns to look at them. She looks familiar, with her knit cap and jacket, but she couldn't be sure.
"Wanna help me put those boxes back on the grate?" The inkling asks. "We don't need anyone wandering down there that shouldn't be there."
"And me?" Waverly asks, watching the mystery inkling cover the grate beside her.
She looks her up and down before shrugging. "I think you'll work out where you belong."
For some reason, that resonates with Waverly. "...yeah…maybe I will…" She says absently, starting to calm down, if only a little. Things would be okay…
[Elsewhere…]
They had a hunch they'd find her here. And they were right.
It was Ray's old place–where Fynn had her heart crushed by the two of them. Where their little motley crew lost a member. The door was practically torn open, a trail of…something, leading inside. Mara and Ray were in rough shape–they had to fight through practically the entire city to get there.
"Fynn..?" Mara calls out, stepping in front of Ray. "We're coming in, Fynn. This has to stop."
There's a stirring in the shadows of the door. Glowing eyes, in the dark, red with hurt. With anger. "You people don't make any sense to me." Fynn says. "You made me…took care of me…then threw me away. You kill my kind for what…fun? A paycheck? You steal our eggs…"
"Fynn we know it isn't right, damn it." Ray quips. "It happened. People can change! We have changed!"
"Don't give me that garbage!" A shot whizzes inches by his face. Ray curses under his breath. "You both abandoned me! You left me to struggle!"
"We both looked for you for ages Fynn! You ran away, we didn't leave you!"
"You should have known! You should have found me!" They chuckle darkly, the eyes in the dark rising to the ceiling now "But maybe it's a good thing that you didn't…" They growl, voice low. "It's time I repay the favor for what you've done to me and my people all these years."
Any slower, and they would have died–Mara and Ray leap to either side, as Fynn lunches at them, revealing their new form in its full, monstrous glory. It was like some sort of serpent–a long, slick, green scale covered eel-like lower half, and a bulkier, stronger upper half, almost familiar to how they remembered her. Her eyes were pale, and seemed to glow in the light–her charger still was in hand, and she was already twisted around, taking aim at Ray. She fires, and at such close range, he can't dodge–getting nailed in the side. He winces, and Mara aims
"Fynn, I don't want to hu–" She's smacked away through a wall by Fynns tail, the apartment building creaking as its structure starts to weaken.
"Mara…!" Ray calls, clutching his side and racing after her
"Where are you going, murderer?" Fynn hisses, slamming them to the side, pinning them against the wall. "You're going to die alone. And so is she." They take their charger and aim the barrel directly to his head.
The building rumbles.
Plaster from the ceiling falls down, smacking them in the head, making them drop Ray in surprise.
He takes this chance to race to Mara getting her on her feet. "Are you hurt?" He asks. "We have to tire her out."
"I didn't want to shoot." Mara says, troubled.
"We don't have a choice." He takes aim into the dark, trying to track the sound. "Part Coho means she can take more than a few hits. So let's get this show on the road."
Fynn was recovering from the building starting to fall on them, and turns to face the two, coiling around themselves. "It's cute how you think that you stand a chance…" They say, leaping upward through the ceiling hole.
"Outside!" Mara yells, rushing towards the door. Fynn's tail whips down, causing more of the building to collapse, leaving them in darkness.
"Did you know salmonids can see in complete darkness?" Fynn says, voice seemingly from all around. Mara and Ray close rank, back to back. "It's an evolved trait." They continue, hearing slithering. "Years of overfishing and assaulting them, forced them to evolve. Their brains are smaller…but their sensory organs were improved. Do you know what that means?"
The room is silent
"It means it hurts so much more when you kill them. That they suffer when you leave them injured. That chopping them up into little pieces? They feel every. Agonizing. Second. That's the kind of pain I want to inflict on you all."
"Not all of us are like this." Ray says, "We're just trying to survive."
"And so are we."
There's more slithering.
Ray whispers "Get your ink armor ready. I'm going to do something stupid."
Mara, presumably nods.
There's a rush of movement, and Ray leaps straight up, slamming his fist into the ground for a splashdown–ink flies everywhere, and Fynn cries out in pain, as some of the rubble near the entrance is cleared. Maras ink armor kept her entirely safe
"Now run!"
They sprint towards the exit, the rubble had closed the entrance to nothing more than a crawlspace
"Go, go!" Ray pushes Mara through the hole and starts going through himself, back into the light.
"GO ON THEN!" Fynn cries. "ABANDON ME AGAIN!"
Ray pauses for a moment.
"LEAVE ME IN THE DARK ALL ALONE..!"
"Mara, stay outside. I have to do something."
She starts to object, and he pushes rubble to close the hole. He can hear her cursing outside, and only hopes it's covered enough to give him just a few moments alone with Fynn.
"Kid." He says, dropping his charger. "Look, I'm here. I'm unarmed." He spreads his arms, looking into the dark. "I can't see a damn thing in here. I can't drop another splashdown. No tricks up my sleeves–lost those in the fight to find you here, in fact." He chuckles, then carries on "If you want me dead…if you hate us that badly, and think that this is the solution, that this will fix all your problems…then go for it. Because all we ever wanted was for you to be happy–and to feel safe. Kinda why we didn't talk about our past so much–even with each other."
There's no answer, so he takes that as a sign to continue
"I'm not a good person, Fynn. I never have been. But-" He pauses for a moment, choosing his words carefully. "I'd been working the job to get by, and I didn't stop to think about what it was I was really doing. You changed my world kid. Taught me to trust again, when I thought there was nothing left in the world for me. I was left behind by people I thought cared about me and I-"
Ray's voice trembles, "I'd never wish that on someone. Ever. It kills me to know that's how you've felt this whole time. I don't deserve your forgiveness Fynn, just know I never meant to hurt you."
He finishes speaking, having teared up a bit during the whole thing. His arms were starting to get tired, holding them out as he still was. More shifting. More movement. Then warmth. Big…somewhat slimy warmth.
Fynn was hugging him.
"I'm so sorry…" She whispers, claws tightening around him.
He says nothing–just holding her, and trying to give her some reassuring pats on the back
"I…everything…I've hurt a lot of people…"
He shushes her gently, "Hey…none of that. There's time for that later…"
Mara finally breaks through the rubble, cursing loudly.
"If you're not fucking dead, I'll kill you myself, Ray!" She says, light shining through the entrance, illuminating Fynn and him. Her expression softens, and she runs over to join in on the hug. "Oh, Fynn…! Are you okay..? He didn't hurt you, did he?"
"I mean, she shot me…"
"Shut it."
"I'm okay." Fynn sniffles, looking up at her "I promise." The hate in their eyes seems gone, replaced with a lot of regret. "I…"
"We'll talk about this at home." She says, "Can you call off the invasion?"
"I…can try?" Fynn says, "If they'll listen to me."
"Trying is all we can ask for." Mara says.
"But we definitely are hoping for this to end with no more violence." Ray adds on, "So please, try your hardest. We love you."
"...love you both too. I need a second. Meet you outside." Fynn says, slithering away, and back up through the hole in the ceiling. Ray helps Mara outside, and limps along beside her.
"Does it hurt?" She asks. "Badly, I mean."
"I've had worse." He says through a pained grin. "It went through pretty clean–she's a hell of a shot."
"Wonder who taught her how to aim?" She gently punches his arm. "If you ever try to close me out again…"
"I won't, dear. I won't."
"Dear?!"
"What, I can't call you dear? Darling? Ho–" She punches his arm again, harder this time. "Message received."
Up above, Fynn was getting up to the roof of the building beside the apartment–one of the taller ones in the city–and once there, they took a deep breath, and let out a blood curdling screech that echoes loudly over the rooftops.
There's a cacophony of cries in return, and slowly, Ray and Mara see the streets fill with retreating salmonids, returning to the water. The jump in sewers, slip down drains–anywhere that leads back to the sea.
Fynn returns to the two, and is still sniffly, teary eyed and crying. "Alright I…think that did it."
"Your singing voice is…uh…"
"Wonderful." Mara says, hugging Fynn again, "And you've gotten so big…!"
"It's the power eggs. The big golden ones. A lot of them won't actually hatch, so…" She shrugs, unsure of how to really explain her transformation, "I shouldn't go home like this."
"While Mara here'd fight anyone that said anything about it, you're probably right." Ray agrees, "So…can you do anything about it?"
Fynn looks at themselves and thinks, "It's…sort of like activating a special, so I guess if I just…" They're shrouded in energy a moment as it all disperses, back to their old selves, albeit, without clothing. Ray immediately looks aside
"Mara!" He says, gesturing, "Give her your shirt or something!"
"Its a dress you dolt." She pinches Ray, "Give her yours. Its your own fault for ditching the jacket earlier."
Ray, still pained a bit, works the shirt off and gives it to Fynn who quickly slips it on, Mercifully it's pretty baggy, and he had a tank top on underneath it, although it was practically swiss cheese.
"I look ridiculous." He says, cracking a grin. "But I think we can get through the city now without any issues."
"Hopefully they didn't damage the house too badly." Mara says, frowning.
"Oh nah. I told them not to touch it." Fynn says, "When we took over the city I was just gonna take it."
Ray's jaw drops. "You little twerp!" He laughs, pulling Fynn into a headlock suddenly and giving the a noogie.
"Hey! Heeey! Stoop!" Fynn laughs a bit, and Mara breathes a sigh of relief. "I would have taken good care of it, old man!"
"Oi!" He lets her go, "I'm not old! And even if I was, man, would I look good!"
The three share a good laugh.
Things were definitely still rocky.
But their family had reunited.
The city reeled from what's now being called The Big Run Incident . Where an unknown King Salmonid led a full scale attack on the surface world, and just as quickly pulled out. Nobody knows why, or how it started. And quite frankly, most people blamed GrizzCo–claiming they manufactured the incident so that people would continue to tolerate their aggressive ad campaign and awful work conditions.
…and somehow, it worked. GrizzCo remained entirely unaffected.
Fynn struggled to adapt to living at home again. They'd made a lot of friends–met a lot of family, even–while with the salmon. It was hard to leave it behind. So, while it took a lot of back and forth, Mara and Ray reluctantly agreed to let her go visit them every so often. Not that they could stop her if they'd not agreed; that was abundantly clear.
And so it was–that the big run had come to an end.