The view from up here was amazing.
He had perched himself at the top of the metal island, looking out at the distant city. Despite the toxic sea and wreckage, it still was a beautiful evening. The wispy, evening-tinged sky highlighted the bright metropolis in the distance, while churning waves striking the island provided a pleasant backdrop of sound.
…It was peaceful, in a sense. Him, alone, just sitting on the top of this structure, feet dangling over the edge.
Far away. On the outskirts of the world. Isolated from all contact.
...oh.
Right.
His previous elation may have been premature, now that he was really mulling it over. On one hand, yes, there was civilization off in the distance, but on the other, there was the small, insignificant fact that it was across a vast expanse of water. For all intents and purposes, an ocean. A very deep, very large ocean, full of very real unknowns.
He was stranded, plain and simple. Great!
Retreat back to Polaris was impossible; how would he even find the airlock in all that muck, nevermind what else may have lurked in those depths? And even then, what was left for him back there? The city was his only real chance, but how would he even get there?
The issue of being cut off from Polaris was much more… significant than he was treating it, but it was the least of his worries for now. If he actually gave it more than an iota of thought to the issue, he was fairly certain his mind would irreparably fracture from panic.
To compound these issues, his PDA was registering interference of some kind across much of the electromagnetic spectrum, rendering any communication options he had useless. Both deaf and mute, on top of the whole ocean problem.
(It did explain the Borealis loss-of-contact thing the Polaris warden AI was talking about, though. Small reassurances. But then again, how did a signal even break through in the first place? Perhaps it had just used a high enough frequency? Hell if he knew, chemistry was his domain, not physics)
It felt hopeless. The view had morphed into a vindictive picture, mocking him. His savior, the city, so close, yet so far, across that damned water; an uncrossable, poisoned void.
Cautiously, he slipped off the ledge, dropping to the level below. His knees ached in protest, but he was beyond caring for such trivial things. He… just couldn't stand being up there, being trapped by an endless expanse.
His head fell into his hands, lips mumbling a belligerent, silent prayer.
I… I just… can't do this.
"So… where did they go?" Rio asked, curiously gazing around the now empty platform, "Could've sworn they were up here."
Before they had jumped, the person had been on the top level, clear as day. Yet, somehow in the space of the jump from the ship to the worksite, they had seemingly disappeared, much to their dismay. The other three had broken their loose formation upon landing, and were looking about to no avail.
"Yeah, me too," Marius replied, "It's like they just vanished. Rather spooky, if you ask me."
They fanned out a bit on the platform, weapons held at the ready.
"I'm sure they'll turn up once the wave starts, I guess." Celia snorted. She had begun spraying her tangerine ink across the terrain. The others soon copied her, spreading out in their own direction..
Vista rolled her eyes, "Of course. Don't sound so happy, Celia."
Not one to waste time, Vista had begun down one of the ramps, leaving a trail of ink with her roller. Celia let out a huff, following behind. Unknown person aside, they still had a job to do.
Beforehand, they had agreed that it would be best to work in pairs for this shift. Rio and Marius as one pair, while Celia and Vista worked as another. Celia and Marius would provide fire support from behind for their respective partner, while the other would keep them protected. That was how their plan was to work, and it usually did, but in the madness of Hazard level MAX, who knew.
It was with furrowed brows that Vista and Celia worked their way down the ramp to the water's edge. They stopped at the edge of the water, which had already started bubbling.
"Well, here goes nothing," Vista mumbled, her roller held in a white knuckled, vice grip.
"Yep," Celia apathetically stated, glaring at the waves, "Let's just get this over with."
"Just keep me safe," Vista nervously said, looking back to Celia, then up the ramp.
"Will do." Celia grunted, hefting her Splattershot. Her gaze raked across the bubbling sea, "Will do…"
A pause. Vista stood frozen, still staring up the ramp.
Celia frowned, expecting an answer, "Vista? Earth to Vista?"
No response.
"Vista?" She turned to check on Vista, tearing her eyes off the sea, and-
"...S-stop! Act natural!" Vista whispered, the words out of barely moved lips.
Vista's tone caught Celia off guard, "What? Why?" She shot back, keeping her own voice low. In all her life, she had never heard Vista sound so, for lack of a better term, scared.
Vista turned back to her.
"Just… look over my shoulder," Vista muttered, trying to wrangle her voice back under control, "No sudden movements."
"They?" Celia asked, though she complied, carefully turning to face Vista. "Now, what am I looking… for…" She stammered the last bit, catching what Vista spied.
A figure, silhouetted against the setting sun, a strange charger in one hand.
Initially, Celia had missed them; in the rapidly darkening dusk, they blended in quite well with the metals that made up the Ark. But fortunately for her, the figure hadn't accounted for the ramp to put them against the horizon. And… how close the person was to Vista and herself. Even then, she couldn't make out any fine details, something about their silhouette felt… unnatural.
Was this the same person they had seen from the boat?
A foghorn sounded off in the distance, startling Celia out of her concentration. She jumped back, Vista flinching as well. It startled the stranger as well, causing them to flee from view.
Celia stared at where they had been, "...Vista, any ideas?"
Instead of answering, Vista was already running up the ramp, leaving her in the dust. Her brow was creased in worried determination.
"For the love of- we still have a shift to work!" Celia shouted at her retreating form.
What… were they?
Nevermind of how they had appeared out of nowhere. Or, for that matter, how he had missed a boat that had seemingly materialized out of nowhere.
He had worked his way lower down the tower. In truth, he had been looking for something, anything, to distract himself from this current dilemma, and the churning water had caught his attention. He had descended to catch a closer look, but that was when he saw them.
While he was covered head to toe in the ERA, he couldn't say the same about his observer. At his distance, it was quite easy to make out their features. Or rather, her features, if his instincts were correct.
She was dressed in a type of work clothing; thick, orange, overalls, teal gloves and boots, topped off with a white and orange fabric cap. That was a very good sign. She also appeared to be holding some ridiculously oversized paint roller, which was less so.
Though moving beyond her clothing and closer scrutinizing her face was… disturbing.
She. Was. Not. Human.
Not human! Not human!
Not! Human!
He stood there stunned, all thoughts blown out of his mind. Like a cold front, however, a rush of newborn introspection burst forth.
She could pass from a distance for a human, easily, in fact; similar body structure, similar proportions, even if the semblance gave off a strange feel. But up close, and having a chance to study her face?
Completely alien.
Purplish-black highlights around her wide eyes. Three prominent fangs visible in her open mouth. Very outward, pointy ears. The first three were a bit odd, perhaps cosmetics of some kind, but the third glaring difference couldn't be so easily ignored. Curly, orange tentacles came out of her scalp, tampered down by her hat.
Tentacles. Not hair, tentacles.
(Just as the doctor's sketches within that little book showed, he distantly remembered.)
He… he just couldn't compute the sheer impossibility in front of him. It was... surreal. But… no, this couldn't be right. This couldn't be right!
There. Had. To. Be. An. Explanation.
He would not accept anything less. The mere thought was burning out his neurons. Just… focus on the present, forget the ramifications.
As she turned back to the sea, her companion had her turn to gawk at him. Similar orange tentacles, though they appeared to be braided in the back, and her highlights appeared to be more of a thin, black mask around her eyes, like a raccoon. Instead of a paint roller, however, she held a plastic water gun…?
He took a small step back. Then another.
Whatever that boat was, it was his only escape.
He needed to get to it.
Now.
As the stranger ducked out of view, Vista's body tensed like a coil, full of potential energy. When her eyes met Celia, they were firmly dilated.
"This is bad. Stay here."
And with that, she went sprinting up the tower after the person.
"Vista! Wait!" Celia shouted, running after Vista. Without her, she'd be a sitting duck for the Salmonids, and the last thing she needed was to be splatted over and over and over…
"Vista!"
About halfway up the ramp was when the screams started. Not from any of them; but… something else entirely. Distorted, raspy shrieks that grated against her ears. She had never heard the Salmonids make that sound, much less her team. They barely sounded like something an inkling could create, and the only real culprit behind them had to be that figure.
It was disconcerting, but only served to further her confusion. This person definitely wasn't affiliated with Mr. Grizz, but then, why else would someone be out here? The retail value? Or perhaps the Salmonids, who were practically swarming at the bottom of the ruins? She could already feel them nipping at her heels.
And suddenly, with one last push up the ramp, everything laid before her.
The stranger, shakily backing away from an approaching Steelhead. Vista, roller raised above her head. The water, still bubbling dangerously.
"What in the…?" She mumbled, finally getting a quick look at this stranger. Or more accurately, what they were wearing.
From what she could tell, it was a gray, sealed environment suit, covering them from head to toe in dull plastic. A backpack, in similar design, was on their back, and they were holding an odd, white charger, alien and utilitarian. She wasn't quite sure, but… it didn't look like any type she'd ever seen.
Not that any of it mattered, seeing as the figure was paralyzed by apparent fear, if their muffled shrieks were of any indication. Even while the Steelhead inflated one of its grotesque bombs, they moved at a crawl, still screaming all the while.
Celia didn't have time to watch, however. A smallfry had snuck up behind her, whacking her in the back of her knee with its frying pan. She grunted, falling to a knee. The smallfry's victory was short-lived, as it was quickly splattered by her gun.
She turned back just in time to see the Steelhead lob its bomb at the Stranger. Another high pitched shriek, but still, they were paralyzed. Almost like they'd never seen a Steelhead. A greenie, perhaps?
...and that would explain a lot. A damn newbie wanted to be the new hot stuff, and thought it would be a good idea to try and be the big hero who took on a shift by themselves. They probably rustled up that odd suit, and stowed away to get here.
What was wrong with them!?
(Or… no, that wasn't right. None of this was right. There was no way this guy was a shift worker.)
...and that would mean they didn't have a life preserver, either.
Oh no.
Vista must've realized this too, as she had ran up to them, to try and jerk them away from the bomb.
"Wait!" Celia shouted, running as well. She grabbed their shoulder, heaving back with all her mi-
The inky projectile exploded.
No!
Celia stood with lead legs, helplessly observing. Vista was down on the ground, covered in the Salmonid's ink. Not splatted, but barely. As too was the Stranger, who was lying face down in the ink.
She tore her eyes from the display.
Damn it damn it damn it-
Later! Now wasn't a time to stand around slackjawed!
She turned back, wildly firing her weapon at the oncoming horde.
Deal with them, then she could help Vista.
Head jerking back, he felt his body grow weightless for a moment. And in the next, he crashed to the ground.
His front screamed at him. He was screaming. He was facedown on the ground, dazed.
He marshelled his senses enough to get back to his feet. The world felt… shiny, shaky… his ears were ringing. Everything felt… slow... disconnected.
A few more uncertain steps were taken away from the horrid beast behind him, only for him to trip. Whatever he had tripped on let out a pained groan.
One of the weird humanoids was faceup on the ground, the nauseous green covering her. Her purple highlighted eyes were still open, staring up into the air, a somewhat glazed look over them.
...they really did look a lot like humans, huh?
They were still genetic misfits, but compared to the hulking behemoth behind him, they were practically natural spawn of the world.
Her friend was behind her, shock and disbelief written across her own face. Her expression quickly morphed to anger as she raised her water gun at the monster in front of them. Several globs of orange paint spat out from it, splashing off of the beast like water off an oily surface. It roared in defiance, quickly generating another one of those plastic, tarlike bombs.
He glanced at it, then back to the prone form on the ground, then back to the quickly forming bomb… Genetic aberration or not, he couldn't stomach the thought of leaving her there. They resembled humans just enough...
While her friend shouted a sort of bubbly battlecry and launched a volley of shots at the beast, he grabbed her friend under the arms to drag her. It was… difficult, considering his tipsy state, but he managed to drag her back, away from the monster. As they went up the ramp, the green goop gave way to the orange ink. The residual green on his boots hissed and fizzled on contact, quickly burning off, the rest simply bouncing off of the ERA's hydrophobic surface.
As soon as they hit the paint, she… distorted… somehow, slipping from his grasp and into the paint in a fluid motion, like she never existed.
What.
She emerged a second later, the green paint completely gone from her, as well as an oversized paint roller clutched in her hand.
...Did he have a concussion?
An odd glance his way was sent by her, followed by a bubbly blurb of what he could presume was speech. Before she could dash off, the monster from earlier finally crawled up the ramp, glowering at them. Her friend was nowhere to be seen.
The one he dragged up threw the paint roller forward, launching a line of orange paint at it. The monster shrugged it off, like the paint shots from earlier. Nothing was working!
Oh God, it was up to him now, wasn't it?
He awkwardly brought his rifle up to his shoulder, flipping the safety off. A low hum emitted from the weapon as the coils charged up, mirroring the dread building up inside him. As the capacitors built up charge, he peered through the digital scope, lining up the reticle with the center of the oversized fish thing's head. Considering the abomination had stopped at near point-blank range, it was easy enough to keep a bead on it (his hands were shaking too much, god, where had he gone wrong in life?)
Deep breath in…
Jam the trigger down!
CRACK!
The rifle kicked back against his shoulder, the air distorted as the hypervelocity projectile tore through the air. In an instant, the salmon-shaped beast all but exploded in a shower of green goop, leaving behind nothing else. Except… a few glowing bits in the bile? Eggs?
She (he was going to refer to her as Curly) stared blankly at him for a second, before running forward to grab one of the eggs, then diving once more into the paint. While he stood there, utterly confused by the insanity around him, a life preserver made its way up the ramp they had previously ascended. It was bouncing up and down, to and fro.
Curly returned a second later, flinging more paint onto the preserver from her paint roller. A peculiar sound, followed by her friend (who he was going to refer to as Braid) bursting up from where the life preserver was. Braid, despite her miraculous appearance, looked surprisingly angry, shouting something at him in her odd language. While he couldn't understand, he was fairly certain that it wasn't anything pleasant.
(For just a moment, he almost raised his rifle against her. Who the hell did she think she was?)
It was interrupted by several soapy screams coming from the top platform, effectively cutting Braid off. She and Curly shared a quick look, before both vanishing into the paint.
He could barely wrap his mind around what was happening. The little island had gone from an abandoned place of peace to an all out war zone. Though instead of blood and bullets, it was instead explosions and paint. And these monstrosities as well…
What the actual fuck was going on?!
Celia ran to the basket, golden egg in hand, cursing viciously under her breath. It hadn't even been five minutes, and things were already going pear-shaped. The Salmonids had been riled up into full force, more so than they expected.
They always seemed to become more aggressive at dusk, but this was ridiculous! She held nothing but pity for the work crews that staffed these particular shifts, but damn it all, this was ridiculous!
And that one other person, too, she supposed, even if they were infuriatingly stupid.
She slipped the egg into the Grizzco Egg Basket™ with a huff. Turning around quickly, she ran down the ramp, passing the unknown figure. They still stood where they had shot the Steelhead, shaking slightly, strange charger still in their death grip. She eyed it with apprehension.
What was wrong with them?
"Celia! Help!" She heard Marius shout from the top platform.
Celia grabbed the last golden egg off of the ground, reversing to swim back up the platform. She deposited the egg as she sprinted past the basket. Just in time, too, as Marius and Rio were quickly becoming overwhelmed by Chums and Cohocks. With her help, their combined firepower was able to push back the Salmonid charge, but that same, dry scream pierced through the air.
Again!?
Marius and Rio followed Celia's mad swim to the source of the scream. She arrived at the ramp just in time to see a Maw snap up from the ink, engulfing the Stranger in one fell swoop, swallowing them whole and descending back into the inky abyss.. Her heart spiked. They weren't wearing a life preserver!
One didn't float up from the ink, but… there wasn't an explosion that indicated someone was splatted. That wasn't good!
"Celia! Get your head in the game!" Marius shouted, splatting another chum. She shook her head, refocusing.
The Maw was now back in the ink, all but its bobber. And now it was coming right for her. She made her way back to the basket, the Maw in tow.
Ok… and-
She ran over the bobber, leaving a splat bomb on top of it. The Maw shot up to engulf its prey, not realizing its mistake.
Splat!
...
Wait… No, that couldn't be right.
Lying amongst the Golden Eggs and residual ink was the Stranger, facedown, green and her own orange ink sliding off of their apparel.
Were they… swallowed by the Maw? But they're…
Who the shell was this person!? Not even the best equipment Grizzco had could just let someone survive in the belly of a Maw!
She'd just… figure this out later.
For now, they quite literally had bigger fish to fry.
Reality had devolved into a living nightmare.
Demonic, metal faces in the shape of fish hounded at his heels, trailed by a shower of toxic goop behind it. The same substance rained down from the heavens, working hard to wash away the orange ink of the pseudo-humans. Small impacts and explosions from all directions ground him into the dirt.
No! Stay back!
CRACK!
He fired shot after shot into the fishy horde, expending his first mag rifle magazine of the day in short order.
CRACK!
During a small lull in their numbers, he had retrieved a few more magazines from his backpack. If he let up... God knows what they'd do to him. His time on this world was not about to end just because of mutant fish.
He took careful, albeit shaky aim from his perch on an upper ramp, his target being a motorized vehicle lurching towards him. The transparent window in the center of it revealed it was driven by one of the smaller mutants. Even though it was made out of nothing but scrap, it still ran all the same.
Of course, he was about to fix that.
CRACK!
His shot punched a hole through the crude vehicle, utterly liquidizing the occupant and tearing the machine apart, debris scattering all across the metal platforms they were fighting on.
As the remnants of the vehicle fell from the heavens, he was reminded of his Great Uncle's favorite saying...
"God created Man, and Samuel Colt made them equal."
Of course, in this case he wasn't sure if God created these psychotic nightmare fish or not, but he was all but certain ol' Colt would've been proud of him and his magnetic rifle.
Suddenly, he was shaken out of his maniacal thoughts by a bubbly shout hitting his ears. One of the pseudo-humans, the guy of the group, was shouting and pointing at something. What was he on abo-
An immense pressure hit him square on his sternum. It knocked him down, pinning him to the ground, all in the blink of an eye. A high pitched whining, almost like a tea kettle boiling deafened him as he focused every fiber of his being on breathing.
He slammed against the metal wall behind him with a shout, some sort of high-pressure 'beam' of green liquid lancing through the air and pushing him into the wall.
All he could do was focus on breathing, as the onslaught of green crushed his chest and forced him to his knees.
Rio, despite her eccentricities, was a squid who had seen much in her still budding life. Some, delightful, others disturbing, and a few she couldn't fathom. She was fairly sure she had stumbled upon the last type, that much she knew.
Let's review the facts, shall we?
She had emerged onto the main platform to drop off a few golden eggs into the basket and head down a nearby platform, only to run into the unknown person. They were already wearing some kind of hazard suit, mind you, which was odd enough. But then, she witnessed them destroy a Scrapper.
Not an odd occurrence, but it was how the person did it. Not by flanking it to take out the driver, or inking the scrap vehicle to damage it.
Rather, they took the more… direct route of shooting the front with their charger-like weapon. Instead of simply incapacitating the vehicle, it outright destroyed it.
Like a snap.
One moment, it was approaching them. The next, a CRACK, and an explosion of golden eggs and Salmonid ink. While Rio wasn't the biggest weapon aficionado out there (that was Marius's pastime), she was fairly certain that regular weapons weren't supposed to do that. Was it one of Mr. Grizz's special chargers?
And while that was a strange- no, an insane event, a Stinger was about to prove it to be an inconsequential one. It had risen out of the waves, a Salmonid sniper on top scanning for a target. And it found one in the stranger. Like any Stinger that had come before it, it built up a massive pressure well of ink, and-
SHIIIIING!
Ordinarily, a Stingray beam was enough to eviscerate Inkling and Octoling alike, and in a few very unfortunate cases, many other species. But this one wasn't wearing a life preserver, and she had a feeling that they weren't linked to the emergency respawn pad onboard the ship. She shouted a warning to the person, but as they turned to her, the beam struck the individual full force.
They were slammed onto the ramp, pinned, mere meters from her. Being so close, she could hear the alien gasps and shrieks of pain, muffled by the mask and the Stingray's ambient scream. Despite the traumatic scene, a part of her mind noted that the Stingray beam wasn't emerging from their back.
That… wasn't normal.
She ran to pull him from the beam's path, but cringed back as she almost came in contact with the Stingray. Just as she reached out again, the Stingray Beam suddenly ceased. Even with it gone, her ears fiercely rung.
She staggered to the ramp edge, looking down below. A notable lack of the Stinger, and a noticeable addition of Celia and orange.
One last, long pitched foghorn blast rolled across the tower. And just like that, the wave was over.
Thank Cod.
They had regrouped near the basket to tend to their wounds.
"And you're saying that they," Celia said, gesturing to the stranger, "managed to survive a Stingray shot? They also survived a Maw attack! And don't any of you help them until we sort this out!"
"And why?" Marius dryly asked, "That doesn't seem too kind. And you always stress about kindness." He shot her a smarmy grin.
"Because… look at them!" Celia huffed, "Rio, tell us!"
"Yeah, they survived a shot! It was crazy! It went like 'shiiiiiiiing!' and that person was pressed up against the wall and everything, you had to be there!" Rio recounted enthusiastically, "I've never seen anything like it!"
"And you're… ok with that?" Vista tepidly said, "I imagine you'd be a bit more… freaked out. I mean, if what you say is true, I sure am." She had only gotten a few short glances at them.
Just who was that under all that plastic wrapping? Why did it feel so familiar…?
"I mean…" Rio made a circling gesture, "well… they didn't try to splat me, and they seem to hate the Salmonids, so I... think they may be on our side?"
"And you were concerned about them splatting you… why?" Marius asked.
"You know why, Marius," Rio replied, "I'm more surprised you aren't scared. You remember that one time."
"It was just one time! I don't think that it would happen again."
"We're getting off topic! And judging by those glowflies…" Celia said.. The yellow hue and bodies of the glowflies were all around them; it was easy enough to see, especially in the dusk. "We're probably in for a Chum Rush."
"Oh… oh boy," Vista mumbled, "I'm up front, right?" She hefted her splat roller.
"Yep, and Marius in the back. Rio and I will cover you." She supposed it was best that it was just a Rush; a Griller ambush would have been much worse. "Speaking of… look alive, cephalopods."
The sea had begun to churn near the island once again. Many, many chums (the regular, base salmonid, for the uninitiated) were emerging from the waters, eyes blood red. Charging in an insane rage, they climbed their way up the site.
Vista whispered curses to herself, but brought down her roller, gaining a running start down the ramp. She hit the horde head on, running over the rioting chums. But as she would roll down one, three would pop up to take their place like the heads of a Hydra.
Celia stood behind her, further suppressing the oncoming horde, but also to support Vista. As much as she hated to admit it, the girl was still wet behind the ears when it came to the art of the Salmon Run. She figured her downright lethal skill in Turf Wars would translate well here, but Vista just kept hesitating. Facing down the frenzied hordes with nothing but a roller could be quite intimidating, and a lapse in concentration could lead to her being splatted.
Marius and Rio, on the other hand, were struggling more than a little. Rio was doing fine; she was in her element with the dualies. The real issue was with Marius; while the Bamboozler was great (in the few hands that could use it properly) for turf wars and single target takedowns, handling swarms was not one of its strengths. She supposed it was better than a regular charger, or Cod forbid, an E-Liter, but he was still struggling. Still, they kept the mob back.
Her head caught a glint amongst the crowd… Goldie!
A well aimed Splat Bomb took it down, releasing its Golden Egg Payload. Without time to waste, she leapt over Vista's Roller, firing her Splattershot the whole time. Nimbly moving, she snatched a few of the eggs, one in her carrying net, and a few others in her arms. Technically against standard regulation, but this was far from a standard shift.
"Hold on!" She shouted to Vista, who grimly nodded . More and more chums went 'splat!' against her roller while Celia ran to the basket. She threw the eggs in, but paused when she saw the stranger.
How did they get up here?
They had gotten up back onto their unsteady feet, still clutching their odd charger. While she couldn't tell, it looked as if they were perturbed by the glowflies buzzing around all of them.
Every single one had quickly converged on the stranger, practically covering every inch of them. Wha-
Vista suddenly shrieked, having run out of ink. The Chum horde ran over her, splatting her into her life preserver, while the mass rushed forward to the stranger, splatting Rio and Marius in the process. Before she could even start firing, the rush reached the stranger, barely missing her.
Another shriek erupted from the Stranger as they fired their charger into the Salmonid mass; a CRACK, followed by several chums being reduced to ink.
It wasn't enough, even with Celia's help.
They swarmed the Stranger, pulling them to the ground. While some were content to beat upon them with their frying pans, others jumped up to restrain them.
She threw another splat bomb at the group with a backup of rapid ink fire. She swore that the Stranger was screaming for help in whatever odd tongue they spoke, even if they sounded horrible.
The bomb went off, clearing the horde off of them. As a precaution, she threw another bomb at Vista's preserver, reviving her.
"Get out there! Revive the others!" Celia shouted. Vista, exhaling a shaky breath, brought her roller back down to block the chums. While Vista did so, Celia gave a quick glance to the stranger.
They're… they're still alive!?
Splayed on the ground, covered in green ink, yet alive, judging by the rise and fall of their chest. And… they weren't quite moving well, either. She brought a gloved hand to her forehead…
They didn't have time for this. As much as it pained her, she rejoined Vista. Her friends came before strangers.
"Are they going to be ok?" Rio asked, concern evident in her tone. The four were staring down at the prone, writhing form of the Stranger. The swarm had finally abated, giving them a bit of breathing time before the final wave.
"You mean, is he going to be ok?" Marius said, joining Vista in helping the suited stranger to their feet.
"He?" Rio replied, "How do you figure that? They could be anything under all that." She gestured to the suit, with all its straps and mask and weird clunky boots.
"He sounds like a guy. You heard him screaming bloody murder too. Tell me he didn't sound like a dude." Marius countered, helping the Stranger prop themselves up against the wall with a grunt. "Kind of looks like one too."
"I suppose…" Rio mumbled, "Though what's with their voice?"
"With 'his' voice. Perhaps it's just a throat injury or something else. No need to assume stuff." Marius said, running his hands over the stranger's mask.
"But… you're assuming they're a guy just on their voice," Celia butted in, "hypocrite."
"She has you there. Hypocrite." Vista jabbed, smirk on her face, though it quickly morphed into a look of concern while she looked over the stranger. "Do you think they'll be ok?"
"I think so?" Celia shrugged, standing straight, "They didn't splat from all those Chums beating them senseless. Do you think they're invincible?"
"Well, not invincible," Marius said, "Because just look at him!" Despite the situation, he let out a small chuckle, "He's going to be feeling this tomorrow."
"Uh… guys?" Rio muttered, staring off into the horizon.
"But still, do you get my point?" Celia asked, ignoring Rio, "It's like they're using some sort of permanent Bubbler shield or something. How else would you survive a Stingray Shot?"
"Guys?" Rio asked, a bit louder, but still went ignored.
"Equally though, it wasn't total invulnerability. I mean, look at him! Tell me he isn't injur-"
"GUYS!" Rio shouted, finally catching their attention. She was pointing at a turbulent portion of the sea, a large menace slowly rising from the depths.
"MOTHERSHIP!"
He… he was done. He was fucking done.
Reality had clearly broken down. Terrors from the deep, mutants running about, and now a giant goddamn ship crate floating high above them. Why did these freaks of nature have the technology to manufacture pulse engines? It just… it defied explanation.
For the first time in a long while, he felt a nameless fear enter his heart.
And as if to rub the insanity into his face, little mutant chinooks floated down from it courtesy of their tiny propeller beanies. They carried white coolers, and when placed down, spawned more of the terrors.
Nope, nope, nope nope nope.
It was as absurd as it was terrifying.
He was exhausted. He was hungry. He was thirsty, his head was killing him. His body had been battered, bruised, and he was fairly sure he had multiple concussions now from all those frying pans, and that floating crate was mocking him.
It was mocking him, and he was taking that thing down, even if it killed him. It was the antithesis of the utter insanity surrounding him.
Of its own volition, his hand went to his rifle's diagnostics panel, fidgeting with the settings. In response, the almost imperceptible, resting hum of the mag rifle pitched to a high whine.
In spite of the splitting headache and all manner of other pains, he managed to bring the rifle to bear, shifting himself from the wall to a kneeling position. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the pseudos, the guy who helped him up earlier, stop dead in his tracks and stare.
Line up the sights… and…
CRACK!
The supercharged, hypervelocity slug punched through the ship, throwing it back slightly. Smoke plumed from the modest hole, metal grinding against plastic. Vaguely, he registered bubbly shouts from the others, anger and fear evident in their voices.
Not the time! Not while that goddamn thing's still flying!
CRACK!
Another slug ripped a hole in the side of the ship, bits of metal and plastic showering the water and platforms below. And yet, it still flew.
Again!
CRACK!
Still up! God dammit!
CRACK!
Fall!
CRACK!
Adrenaline flooded through his body, giving him one final burst of energy. The others were screaming. He was screaming. His rifle was breaking apart from the sheer stress of each overcharged shot. He didn't care. It was that ship or him, and he had no intentions of dying today.
The ship, now riddled with holes, sparked and hissed, tilting dangerously to one side, but was still airborne.
That couldn't stand now, could it?
CRACK!
Perhaps gawking at the stranger's destructive antics was the wrong idea. Though granted, it was quite the show, or that's at least what Marius thought.
It wasn't every day you saw a Mothership having more holes than sea cheese, or the fact that it was inflicted by a mysterious person with a wholly unknown weapon. Seriously, even Mr. Grizz's souped up Bamboozler had nothing on it. He had to get his hands on that weapon at some point, regardless. Whatever that charger shot was punching through the Mothership like it was made from paper.
But, because of his utter fascination with the weapon (and his friends' utter horror, Vista in particular), they stood slack-jawed at the display.
Unfortunately, that had the effect of letting the Salmonid Chinooks place their payloads. And now, they were positively swarmed with Salmonids. Even with all four of them spraying as much ink as they could to counter, the swarm had reached a critical mass. They could hold back the tide, so to speak, but only hold them back.
They couldn't get to the spawn coolers, and the damage the stranger did to the Mothership only agitated the chinooks to work quicker. When one cooler was destroyed, another took its place almost immediately. A verifiable standstill. And to make matters worse, the heavily damaged Mothership was beginning its approach to sap the golden eggs they'd collected.
A small hum, followed by another imposing CRACK!
Another hole appeared in the Mothership, throwing the giant thing off course.
...oh, he was going to get his hands on that charger, even if it killed him. Oh, how he was going to cherish it.
CRACK!
The final shot hit the Mothership true. A small explosion ripped away much of its outering casing, exposing its delicate innards to the world. A larger explosion from the inside finally caused it to list downwards… towards the platform they were on. The stranger let out another one of their raspy screams, diving to the side of the falling ship.
The other three, mute horror written across their faces, looked away from the Salmonids, instead gaping at the falling wreck. The Salmonids had ceased their assault, watching what was once their proud Mothership fall from the sky.
It squarely impacted the platform, the burning wreckage collapsing in on itself. At the sight of this, the remaining Salmonids shrieked, fleeing back into the sea. And to finalize this impossible feat, the Mothership's remains were practically overflowing with golden eggs.
...this shift wasn't entirely bad after all.
And with the four of them scooping up eggs into the collection basket, Marius imagined Celia, Rio, and Vista would agree. Maybe. He had the feeling they were still partially shell shocked. Shell, he almost felt the same, if not for all the Golden Eggs and his utter fascination with the stranger's charger.
"Come on guys!" he shouted, "These eggs won't collect themselves!" He had begun scooping them up by the armful to fling them into the basket. Gawking at the broken Mothership was one thing; failing a shift was a whole 'nother kettle of fish.
"Oh… yeah, right." Vista mumbled, haphazardly throwing eggs into the basket as well, followed by Rio and Celia. Throughout all of this, her eyes never left his prone form.
This shift had its ups and downs, but he had to say, it all worked out in the end. Well, for himself at least. The others probably held a more negative view of the outcome, and the stranger…
They were down on the ground on all their hands and knees. One hand still clutched that charger of theirs.
Yeah, he was fine.
Allow me to apologize for taking so long to upload this chapter. I wasn't happy with how it turned out initially, so I rewrote the whole chapter mostly from scratch. It was an interesting experience writing these "fight" scenes.
It would also be worth mentioning that in this story, I'll be going off the assumption that humans and inklings/octolings are about the same size in this story. I've seen the scale fluctuate based on who's writing, and with no one canonical answer, figured I would just clear that up.
Speaking of, do you think I did an alright job of our protagonists finally meeting? It's something I really hope was not botched.
With this chapter out of the way, the story should finally begin picking up. I'm really looking forward to writing what comes next, and I hope you are as well. Thank you for reading, as well as your kind words. I really appreciate it!
I'll see you next time!
