Chapter 4: Back in Action

"Whenever duty calls, guess who's steppin' in."


"Checkmate." Craig declared, celebrating his sweet victory by pumping his fist into the air.

An elderly inkling sitting across from him—his opponent—let out a frustrated sigh. "How do you keep winnin'? This is your fourth victory in a row! You cheatin'?"

"Cheating? 'Course not. I'm just that splat-tastic," Craig gloated with a cheeky smile, which was carefully hidden beneath his puffy, white, tentacled beard. He leaned back in his seat, looking at all the defeated chess pieces.

His friend squinted with suspicion before huffing. "Bah! We're goin' again. This time, I'll get you for sure!" The elder blabbered, filled with determination, as he started setting up the board for the fifth time.

Craig chuckled. "Sure, sure. Whatever ya say."

He let out a relaxed sigh, placing his hands behind his head.

Craig took this time to observe his surroundings. While the early morning rays of the sun shone on their board game, other old inklings trekked around the brown-colored room. Some moved to the back table to get a cup of coffee, whereas others sat and engaged in their own conversations. Others were more or less asleep, but there was no judgment there. Not everyone was an early squid.

Craig had his own little shack he could sleep in. But every now and then, he would visit Inkopolis's newest nursery home to socialize with the residents that were his age. Well... somewhat close to it anyway.

"Alright!" The inkling announced, notifying Craig he was done. "This time, I make the first move."

Craig waved his hand absentmindedly. "Sure, go ahead. Won't make any difference when I beat you." He taunted with a snicker, inciting a muffled growl from the inkling.

Before the elder made his move, he did a double take to his side, staring off at something. Craig didn't notice his mind was no longer on the game until he spoke. "Ay, ain't those your gransquddies?" Craig sat up in his seat before turning to where the inkling looked.

Mounted on the wall was one of those large flat-screen TVs, the kind that usually strained his eyes if he stared for too long. He had completely tuned the noise coming out of it, but the elder was right. On the screen were his lovable granddaughters, Callie and Marie. Craig couldn't help but smile.

"Sure is." He responded, noticing the first words on the screen were 'Youth-Folk Singing Contest.' It was a shame; he was going to be their number-one supporter, but he couldn't make it due to some unforeseen circumstances. But maybe they won first place and made headlines? Craig wouldn't be surprised. He knew the girls had it in them to be great.

He leaned in towards the TV, listening closely. The more he listened, the more his happy expression fell away.

Missing? Possible squidnapping? What... what was this?

The sudden news flabbergasted Craig, but it didn't take long for him to spring into action.

He stood from his chair abruptly, garnering his opponent's attention. "Craig?" Instead of receiving a response, Craig grabbed his bamboo cane and began hastily wobbling away. "Craig! Where are you going?"

"To take care of something." He said with finality, leaving the nursery home.

Craig didn't stop moving until he made it back to his shack on the outskirts of Inkopolis. He busted through the front door before ripping off his current attire.

Then he crazily rummaged around his wardrobe before finding what he was looking for. "Yes..." His eyes looked his old war uniform up and down.

It had certainly seen better days. One of his brown shoes had holes, and the blue jean shorts were slightly torn. His physical appearance didn't help either. He was so dried out, the loose patchwork adorned with hard-earned medals would hang rather than fit on his torso. But this was his legacy. His history. His identity. He'd wear it, no matter what.

It took some time to get everything on, but once he did, he grabbed a loose red band sitting on his desk before tying it around his bamboo cane. "Hope you got enough juice in ya for one last fight, ol' girl."

He patted his cane before turning to an old and dusty dresser. Craig opened one of the drawers, and there it was—His cap of legend. He dusted the hat off, causing the golden Squidbeak Splatoon logo to glimmer.

Craig nodded before putting the cap on. "That's better." Now, he needed one last thing. A lead. And he knew exactly where to get one.

He turned to an old black-squid-shaped phone. It was similar to the phones used by Inkopolis's younger inhabitants, but obviously predated the city's youth. It was so old that Craig had to plug it into a nearby socket and wait for it to catch a signal before sending a call in.

He only waited a few minutes before someone picked up. "Attention caller, you are calling an authorized personnel-only channel, and this number isn't on the registry. Only verified units may use this line." A familiar voice barked with authority. "You are to identify yourself and handover this claimed property immediately or else—"

"Don, it's me."

"C-Craig?" The authoritative tone faltered before the man cleared his throat. "You've got a lot of nerve calling this line. What would you have done if somebody other than me answered?"

"Don, I need your help."

"It's funny you say that because, last I checked, you were excommunicated. So I believe this conversation is officially over."

"Don, please!" Craig raised his voice, gripping the phone tighter.

"I'm not spouting nonsense again! I... I really need some help right now. It's my granddaughters; something happened to them, and I need to find them as soon as possible." He pleaded.

"I don't see how this is my problem."

Craig clenched his other fist, resisting the urge to punch something. "Please. Think about everything we've been through together!"

"We've been through a lot, that's true. But remember, you're the one who got yourself in trouble."

"I did what I had to do. For my people. You know that."

"You disobeyed orders, Craig!"

"Because what they wanted us to do was wrong, and you know it!" There was silence on the other end. "Don... please. They're my family; it's all I have left. And you're the only one who can help..."

A slight groan came from the other end before Don responded. "How... many...?"

"Two." Another groan came from the phone, this one being a lot louder; Then more silence. "Don?"

Finally, Don spoke again, this time in a quieter voice. "Listen, me and my team were investigating some... let's say, disturbances. While we were snooping, we picked up some encrypted transmissions last night. We've only been able to decode them now, but apparently, a group of hired thugs acquired two kids somewhere in Calamari County. It might be them..."

"Where are they?!" Craig shouted, needing to know more.

"Hey! Keep it down! I'm risking my neck by just talking to you," Don said, hushing Craig. He sighed before resuming. "As I was saying, we triangulated the transmissions and managed to pinpoint the thugs' location at a shore in Inkadia. But all our units are preoccupied, so we haven't been able to send anyone." There was a pause in the conversation. But before Craig could say anything, Don continued. "I...can send these coordinates to your device. But they might not even be there anymore."

"That's fine." Craig nearly jumped for joy at Don's cooperation. "Thank you, thank you, thank you! You have no idea how much this means to me."

"Don't mention it."

"I knew I could—"

"Ever." Don interrupted, shutting Craig up.

"And one more thing," Don said seriously. "For your own safety, don't call this line again." With that, Don hung up the call. Shortly after, the phone beeped as a set of coordinates had been sent. Now he was on his own.

Craig smiled. "Thanks, Don. You're always there when I need you the most." He placed the phone in between his waist and brown belt, then stepped outside his shack. "Don't worry, kids. Gramps is comin'."