In Corporal Rebecca's opinion, securing this Dome had been more trouble than it was worth. Or, more accurately, all the trouble they went through wasn't worth it.
They had gone through all the effort of bringing an entire platoon, not to mention a Great Octoweapon, only to find the place utterly abandoned. No life whatsoever, no force to fight. Nothing. There hadn't even been a token response from the Inklings. She half-believed they hadn't even noticed their encroachment.
Instead of an intense battle for a new foothold, it was just her platoon and Octarian fodder wasting their time dusting off cobwebs for Cod knows how long instead.
She would've loved a good fight; It had been too long since she had put her training to use, to get the blood pumping. Back at the canyon, they rarely had the chance to simulate any real fights. Energy was still in short supply, and wasting it on any needless respawns that weren't caused by accidents was not something they could afford to do.
Their skirmishes with the Inklings were the closest she'd had to the Inkling's so-called "Turf Wars." As much as she might've disliked the Inklings, it did sound like a fun sport. To try to take over as much territory as possible; it appealed to something primal within her. Much more fun than trying to just splat enemies, if nothing else.
Wasn't like these battles even mattered much, anyway, seeing as respawners were in wide use up there. Turned everything into such an inconsequential game.
On that thought…
She felt at her waist, feeling for a reassuring little device resting there. A respawn anchor, its indicator light glowing a brilliant emerald, one that signified she was tethered to their local respawner.
No one had been able to breathe easy until they'd set up the all-important machine, even if it had proven unnecessary by how dead this Dome was. Not having to fend off a bunch of Inklings while poking around was nice, she supposed, but now...
It. Was. So. Boring.
She and her sisters in arms had been "patrolling" the dome for the past several hours. Patrolling, in this case, was code for simply exploring the decrepit Dome. It wasn't like they had any real guarding to do, anyway. The only entrance they had found was a large utility elevator from a surface facility to the base of the Dome. It made getting a Great Octoweapon down here easy, at least.
But, seeing as they had met no resistance, it was off sitting in a corner gathering dust.
Suffice to say, the regular Octarians could handle guarding the entrance. That, and they couldn't properly explore the Dome's architecture. Whoever built this particular one was obsessed with stairs.
Feh. She would've preferred guarding the elevator, but no, as an (aspiring) leader, she needed to set the example. Guard duty may have been boring, but it would have gotten her out of mapping the place out. This Dome gave her the creeps.
Did that make her a bad (aspiring) leader?
Eh, maybe.
With how many Octolings had been deserting the past few years, there had to be a problem within the leadership somewhere. Perhaps even at the top levels of their military? Octavio himself? She wasn't sure where the problem was, but worrying about that could be saved for later.
She needed to focus.
As Rebecca and one of her sisters swept down another hallway, Octoshots at the ready, she pondered what they might find down here. This Dome may have been abandoned, but what could be hidden within? A new technology to add to their hoard? Previously unknown knowledge? A terrifying creature, resistant to ink? It wouldn't have been the first time, if the rumors were true.
The latter wasn't exactly something Rebecca wanted to think about, but the former two could help advance her career, perhaps.
She could see it now. Their scientists praising her for a new discovery, adding to their knowledge, their armory, their collective worth. Finally being recognized by her superiors, getting to-
"Clear." her comrade said, snapping her back to reality.
She blinked; they were at the end of the hall. Thankfully, her goggles had prevented her sister from realizing she had been daydreaming.
"Right," She replied, re-adjusting her grip on her Octoshot. The hallway itself terminated into a split, a stairway up, and another hallway branching off. This place was a veritable maze.
"Split up?" Her sister suggested, "We can cover more ground that way."
Oh, responsibility!
Rebecca chewed her inner cheek, thinking. Sticking together would be safer, and while she would ordinarily say they do so… but what was the harm? This place had shown no iota of life for hours now, and really, what were the chances that something was living here? The place had been sealed air-tight when they first cracked the Dome entrance open.
Of course, if she did discover something, all the credit would go to her. It would be worth it, even if she had to endure the isolation.
"Yeah, sure." she said, "I'll take the stairs, you take the hallway?" A nod in return.
While her sister went down the new hall, she went up the stairs, gear clattering about as she did so.
She reached the top, peering into a new level, yet unexplored. It, much like every other hallway in this creepy Dome, was lit up in an eerie fluorescent glow; the slight humming of the lights she could barely hear. More doors, concrete walls, and steel supports, as always. Perfectly lit, perfectly safe, but it still felt so wrong.
Liminality, she had heard someone call it.
Rebecca was already beginning to regret her decision to split up. Logically, she knew she was perfectly safe, but emotions were a fickle, overriding beast. She cautiously made her way through, trying each door. Locked each time.
"Totally not creepy…" she muttered under her breath. Unease had already settled in her stomach. Her weapon and armor were paltry reassurance at best.
Still, at least they had the new armor. Their old gear had been way too revealing. And cold. Even if their new gear reminded her of the high-quality body armor the accursed agents had, protection was still protection.
And it was snug, too. Warm. Very nice.
But small creature comforts like those did little to make her feel better. The Dome may have been a blessing, yes, but equally, did it have to be so unsettling? It was so much like the domes back in the Canyon, yet so different all the same. Familiar, yet warped, in a sense.
She kept down the hallways, trying more and more doors, only for more and more locks to greet her. It was starting to become more annoying than off-putting. The balance had yet to tip, though.
While she tried doors, almost on autopilot, her mind wandered back to the Dome.
For one, it was much smaller, much smaller than the ones back home. Those could house small cities, be as liberating as the outdoors, but this dome could barely hold… she wasn't exactly sure, half a city block? The walkways around the dome were another strange new addition, not to mention the complex encircling the Dome itself. Levels upon levels of hallways and rooms, many of them either collapsed or utterly empty with no inbetween.
An odd simulacrum, a mockery of their Domes. This place wasn't built for housing a sizable population or military personnel. It felt more like… a bunker, of sorts. Maybe? Or… she didn't know. It was all so perplexing.
Though, when she was suddenly floating in the hall, suddenly bereft of all her weight, some feelings of home did shine through. She simply fired her Octoshot, the force pushing her out of the space. It left a purple splotch of ink on the floor.
Despite all the differences, the Dome and the area around it still had those strange patches of null gravity. They were common enough back home, but for some to manifest outside the Canyon and Valley? It was quite strange. Did this indicate they had something to do with the Domes, rather than the locations?
Maybe? Rebecca wasn't sure. She should pitch the idea to the scientists when they were done here.
Back to the doors. More doors, more locks. Nothing new, yet.
Another observation. Like the other domes, they had needed Zapfish to power the place. But, for whatever reason, one Zapfish hadn't been able to do the job. Four were needed. Four. They were lucky enough to have brought an extra, but they still needed to scavenge two more from their UFOs to make up the difference. And all just to turn on the lights, and also to wake up the archaic life support systems. It was surreal, plain and simple. Was there more going on behind the scenes?
Another idea to pitch to the scientists.
Well, when she got out of here. Cod, she hoped that was soon. Even with all the lights on, the encircling complex was really unsettling. Everything was off. This dome wasn't a city, but then, what?
The few spaces they found were intended for living, yet all they missed were the occupants. Liminality, once more.
There was still so much they didn't know about the domes. All she knew was that the Octarians hadn't built them. If High Command knew, they weren't disclosing anything.
If it wasn't Octarian built, did it make them squatters, technically?
But, such questions didn't keep her distracted for long. She had a duty to her people, and she would not tolerate being called a slacker. Her future career would not allow it. Even if it meant swallowing the unease she felt. That was the definition of bravery, right? No fear was foolish? Something like that?
She hoped so. Could be a good line to use for her superiors. Might make her look very commendable, indeed.
Mhmm… This whole operation could look very good on her record, if she played her cards right. And with the little resistance they had encountered, she might as well have come across her once in a lifetime chance for recognition.
Rebnecca continued her walk from door to door, trying the handles of each. Still a boring task, seeing as each one so far was just as locked as all the other doors she'd tried today.
And thankfully, her unease appeared to be unearned. More locked doors, more levels, more halls, but still no life. They'd have to get the doors opened with lock-break kits later, but for a first sweep, everything was going well.
Almost too well, actually. Seeing as they had encountered no resistance, many of their forces had returned to the Canyon, leaving a smaller platoon (including herself) behind. It was a risk, yes, but one that was much less conspicuous than bringing a full army.
More of a chance to prove herself, she supposed.
Maybe she could-
Click.
Eh?
She broke from her thoughts, looking down at the handle she'd twisted. Unlocked.
…and there was the unease again.
She hefted her Octoshot, gently opening the door. The light from the hallway spilled through, illuminating the room. A sparse, small space occupied by a plain, wooden wardrobe and bed, unmade. A patterned carpet. A comfy chair in the back. A dead, potted plant.
Huh.
She had been expecting something more… basic, she supposed, or empty. With how minimalist and dense this dome was, seeing something so ordinary felt off.
Regardless, she figured she might as well check through everything.
Under the bed… little storage containers, locked.
Bed itself… unmade, nothing under the thick, fraying sheets.
Wardrobe… nothing special (nor in her size) inside; nylons, fabrics, pants, shirts, shoes. No graphics on them, no hint of color. Not a shred of personality in them. Weird.
Whoever made this place had to be minimalist utilitarians, with how utterly bland everything in this place seemed to be. The thought was annoying, but it didn't really unsettle her. She preferred that thought. Made everything here feel so much, much less threatening. If everything was bland, Rebecca figured, any potential threats would be just as bland.
She opened the bottom-most drawer. More clothing, the same as before. She barely spared it a glance, but then something partially hidden under a folded up shirt caught her eye.
Whatever it was, it was metal, heavy, cold to the touch. Tugging it free from its prison of clothing, she studied the strange rusty artifact in her hand, holding it up to the light shining in through the open door.
An intricate, odd-shaped splattershot? A short, stout dualie? It's grip fit comfortably into her hand, yet was quite heavy. Her finger naturally fell within the trigger well. It felt wrong in her grasp, yet so right.
Was it a weapon? It wasn't like anything she had ever seen, yet it seemed so much like a splattershot. She messed with it, trying to uncover its secrets. Pulling back on the topmost bit of metal (albeit with difficulty, the rust was stubborn) revealed a small space filled by a little, metal capsule. A button on the side of the grip caused a long, narrow metal box to fall out from the bottom, holding more of the aforementioned capsules.
Rebecca felt like she'd seen this before, somewhere. An old special weapons project, maybe? Something she got brought in to test, years ago? She wasn't sure.
Eh. She'd figure it out later. For now, she slipped it into her waistband. It wasn't the best spot, but she didn't really have any options here. All that mattered to Rebecca was getting in the hands of the scientists, anyway. Sweet, sweet research and development…
Could it be what gets her that promotion? Maybe? The thing seemed useless, but who knew? Still, the discovery gave her a nice flurry of tingling in her stomach. Excitement.
She got up from her crouching position, stepping out of the room.
Discovery aside, she still had the rest of the dome to look around.
For the past fifteen minutes, he had been sitting in the janitor's closet, almost in a daze. Minor, flawed thoughts raced through his head, plotting, trying to digest the current situation.
First things first, the Shelter.
This place was one of them, as far as he could tell. They were scattered all over Japan, as well as many other countries. After the Intercorporate War (or Fourth World War, if you weren't a history geek) many nations constructed them to withstand all manner of apocalyptic scenarios.
Nuclear armageddon, asteroid impact, climate change, if he could name it, a Shelter could survive it. Granted, he didn't think they'd make it over twelve thousand years (if that log date was true), but the fact that this one survived was an extremely good sign of life. Though, the presence of the pseudo-humans really put a dent in that 'sign of life' thing.
Ugh.
If nothing else, there was one thing he knew for certain, thanks to all the briefings he had to attend before the flood: every shelter held a "black box" of sorts, something to record events and store all the data accrued. Something like a warden AI, but even less intelligent. In a time of crisis, the recording intelligence would catalog anything and everything on the Shelter's internal network, including incoming and outgoing communications from other facilities.
It was a long shot, but it was a possibility. If the pseudos hadn't found it first and already screwed with the data, he could get down to the black box and get a much bigger picture of what the hell's going on.
Something didn't sit right, though. This place was one of the Shelters, yes, but that discounted two important details.
One: They were always, without fail, built closer to the coasts, not nestled within the land like this one was. Difficult to construct, yes, but in a situation where seconds could mean saved lives, close proximity to the coastal cities was a must. There were exceptions, of course, but nothing like this.
Two: The shelters were supposed to be larger. Much larger. Large enough as in to have their own weather patterns and support entire city populations. The main dome here was certainly massive, yes, but they were built on a scale relative to how many people the facility could support. By comparison, this one was small, puny, even. It could maybe support… he didn't know, five hundred? A thousand?
He had no idea.
On top of that, he hadn't seen any iconography denoting who owned the place, with the only hint to its origins being the Japanese text he kept seeing here and there. If it was built by the Japanese government, he saw nothing that supported that theory. Same with the theory of this place being of military origin, too. No corporate logos either. Great.
This was a completely unmarked Shelter, as far as he saw. As such, it begged the question; what was it doing here? And of such unconventional design as well…
The thought didn't help one bit. Yet, it was oddly comforting, in a way. This was a mystery that wasn't caused by this new world, but some forgotten remnant of his own time. When did conventional conspiracy become a reassuring pastime to him?
Christ, he was losing his mind.
Ok…
He could do this!
…
He could…
…
…he couldn't do this.
He'd tried the catwalks again, but once again heights won out against his nerves.
From his place of relative safety in the doorway, he had counted at least fourteen of those curly tentacled pseudo-humans, not to mention the weird new tentacle things wandering about on the floor of the Domed expanse. Monsters. True aberrations. And here he was, thinking that those fish from the island were abominations.
But, that wasn't the point.
Rather...
What the hell was he going to do? What the hell was he even doing?!
He wasn't some kind of action hero! In the past, he may have thought he could have taken on this challenge, that he could do this.
Everything that had happened since the Flood had beaten that out of him.
And as much as it hurt his very soul, he was outclassed here. Badly.
Those four he fought off the fish horde with were using those odd paint weapons. Who was to say those were the only weapons they had? He was lucky enough that his suit was specifically meant to keep foreign contaminants out, but he couldn't say the same for bullets, magnetic slugs, directed energy; essentially, any modern weapon. It could maybe stop a bullet from penetrating due to the specific type of materials used in the ERA's undersuit, but that wasn't for certain. It certainly wouldn't stop the kinetic force!
Really, what had he been thinking? That he would just go in guns blazing like some kind of Rambo? That he could single handedly free this bunker's inhabitants from what amounted to a small army? He was a chemist who had never spent a day in combat, the worst stress in his life from anxiety of tomorrow, of his work, and the constant threat of an ICBM strike before the Emplacements had been erected.
And from coyote howls at night, but that didn't count. Great Uncle and his family didn't count as stressful either.
He wasn't a hardened soldier; he was injured and hungry, absolutely weary from this journey, with little energy left for even just walking about.
What he wouldn't give for some tomato basil soup…
But each pseudo down there was in prime fighting condition. Each one trained and presumably well cared for. Healthy, uninjured, well fed.
He didn't have a chance in Hell.
He had only one shot at this. If he failed, it was all over. If he was captured, it was all over. Polaris would be screwed.
Sure, the ones he'd run into earlier might have been benevolent, maybe, but that was a chance he couldn't take. He had been going off of his gut this whole time, and it told him that these pseudos were bad news. And if his captive humans theory was true, what would stop them from locking him up as well?
He just wanted to talk, to drop the facade.
For now, though, he had the mind to make a hasty retreat. Get some rest, then come back tomorrow. Even if he had no more groceries to pilfer, some sleep could help. Maybe a solution would present itself. Or… maybe something would change? He was grasping at straws at this point.
He wasn't ready for this.
But, what choice did he have?
This wasn't the end, just… a tactical retreat. He didn't know what his next move was, but… he could adapt. That was what he had been doing all this time, right?
Didn't stop the bitter taste in his mouth, though.
He began his way back through the escape tunnel, feeling his way through. Slow, yet sure. No need to waste battery life when touch would suffice. Granted, the batteries he had would last a long time, but damnit, he needed to feel tactical.
He had been through once, he could do so again.
It wasn't all that bad fumbling about in the darkness, just… peaceful, in a way. He liked it. Gave him a chance to mull things over.
He needed to break into the rest of the Shelter and find any captive humans, but how? He wasn't a soldier, but a scientist. His job consisted of working on complex chemistry, finding an ideal solution. For the most part, theoretical issues he wouldn't personally have to see through. Test, fail, test again, repeat.
This problem was much simpler in theory; break into the Shelter-turned-military base, free anyone he finds, then avoid capture. It wasn't like he was messing with molecular structures or complex applications. Yet here, he was way out of his depth. There was no room for trial and error, no mistakes. The stakes physically weighed down upon him.
This wasn't an issue he could try over and again and again. He had only one chance to test any hypothesis, and if it failed… he didn't want to think about it.
Seriously, what was he going to do? Be a one man army? He didn't want to murder anyone, even if there wasn't a choice. He wasn't a monster!
Right?
Right.
…
As he continued back, the tension slowly bled from him, only to be replaced by a deep-seated realization that this problem wasn't going to be going away. He was only to begin comprehending just how fucked he was, as uncouth as the phrase was.
In a way, he preferred the existential dread.
Three was beginning to regret her decision to explore this tunnel.
Not because it was long, or dark, or even boring. It may have been a dull place, but the mystery around it was enough to keep her interest.
No, it was Four, as usual.
"S-Should we really be doing this?" Four whispered, failing to keep her voice level. Nervous. Not exactly surprising, honestly. She couldn't entirely blame Four for being jumpy, but equally…
"Yes."
"Why do you sound so-"
"Yes."
"I'm just saying…" Four mumbled, trying to get the last word in. Not that Three minded; it was always entertaining to see her try.
They returned to silence. She supposed Four did have a point about them inspecting this place now, but there were too many variables at stake. They had to get to the bottom of this; a wildcard in this mess could truly ruin everything.
And, personally, she was itching to get this done with.
She swept her light off the path, along the walls. And just like the other times, the same cracked concrete and metal support beams greeted her. Meticulous, evenly spaced. There was a metaphor hidden somewhere.
Balance, perhaps?
Suddenly, she heard it.
Footsteps, coming down the tunnel.
She and Four both reacted instinctively, turning off their flashlights and flattening themselves against the tunnel wall and freezing.
The footsteps continued for a moment, then stopped. A beat. Shuffling in the dark. A muffled curse. And just as quick as it had come, the footsteps raced away.
A minute passed.
Three finally exhaled, stepping away from the wall. In the almost imperceptible glow of their equipment, she could see how pale Four's face had gone. She didn't dare turn her flashlight back on.
But how to turn off their equipment's glow?
...This was a new issue.
"Um, maybe we should go back?" Four asked, voice shaking, "G-Get some backup, at least?"
A faint electrical hum reached her ears, but in the moment, she decided it wasn't important.
"That's not an option. We have to see this through." Three stated, her cheeks flushing slightly.
"But why? Three, i-is this how you normally-"
The hum grew into a small whine. A flash, farther down the hall.
CRACK!
The air distorted, blowing wildly, the echoing deafening them. Something snapped between them, sparks flying further down the hallway as whatever it was tore through a metal support with ease.
A second passed before Three reacted, belatedly falling to the floor. Her mouth clenched shut, fangs grinding. Four yelped and followed suit. Everything started shaking and rattling, rocks hitting the floor all around them.
It felt like the world was falling apart.
The rumbling of the earth soon faded away, leaving them in true silence, save for the maddening beat of their hearts. That, and the tinnitus whatever weapon that was left both of them with.
Three forced her racing heart to slow, her thoughts melding back into control. A rational perspective. She swallowed down the bile rising to the back of her throat. Life and death. Get it together.
Something was fired at them from down the tunnel. No ink based weaponry could have done that. It felt familiar; then again, after the Metro, many things did. Deja vu.
There had been a strange hum before the attack? Something to do with electricity? She had no idea what else it could be.
Further investigation was required. After her legs complied.
Four was lying next to her, breathing heavily, eyes fixed, looking down the tunnel. Still paralyzed from the shock. After that, Three didn't blame her.
Soon after, she heard it again.
Slow footsteps, not long after the ringing in their ears had faded. Three remained stockstill, as did Four. No light, beyond what they couldn't smother on their agent gear. She shut her eyes, trying to hide the glow she no doubt figured the armed stranger saw.
She heard whoever it was murmuring to themselves, voice muffled and raspy… and familiar, strangely enough.
A whisper, at the back of her mind. One language becomes another.
- don't get up… please, just don't -
Oh. Her little gift from the Metro had kicked in. Lovely.
No time to freak out about it. Worry about who was talking later. Put it to use, Three. Had they come to finish them off, perhaps? To make sure their vile weapon did its job?
Amateur.
It would be their downfall. Three's grip on her Hero Shot tightened, a knot forming in her sternum. The footsteps grew closer. She couldn't see, but her hearing was more than enough.
Little more…
Almost…
…
Now!
She sprung up, flashlight pointed at her attacker, her other hand bringing her Hero Shot to bear. A blur. Something tall, gray, indecipherably shrieking. Jittering, shaking. Blanching.
Screaming.
Chaos.
Horror.
Before she could even pull the trigger of her weapon, it was gone.
…
She stood still, an unnatural calm over her. Minutes passed without incident.
They should be safe for a while.
Now then…
...
Three fell to her knees, violently regurgitating the bile in her stomach.
Oh cod, she almost died! She almost died!
The thought fueled her retching. The one time she was bold and a bit careless about her mission, and she almost died! They weren't synced up to any respawners, it would've killed her! And she didn't even know who attacked her!
Grey, twitching, her memory broke beyond that. It was like nothing she had seen before, that much she knew. Did it cause the explosion?
It… reminded her of the briefing from earlier. The destruction.
It was a long… no, it wasn't a coincidence. The destroyed facility, this dome, it… this was all connected. Somehow. And that-
And… and she had almost died at the hands of the culprit. The one behind it all.
She was sure of it.
Her world shifted, eyes scrunching shut.
Hah…
She spit out the rest of the bile from her mouth, forcing the rest back down.
Push down the feelings, worry about them later.
As much as it hurt, she couldn't afford to be weak. She needed to focus. Luck had saved her once, but that grace wouldn't be extended a second time.
Calm, objective. She could do this.
She stayed low to the ground, feeling around for Four. There hadn't been an explosion of ink, so she should've been fine. That person's weapon felt like a charger in function, yet entirely different in execution. One shot. A sniping weapon? Presumably. How fast it could fire was still unknown. If it had hit Four, there was no chance she would have kept her form.
Besides, it had never fired when she ambushed it.
But that first shot...
Seeing as the tunnel behind them had collapsed, it must have missed them and hit a support instead. That would explain the earth shattering vibrations she felt right after.
Was it intentional, or accidental?
Regardless, it had cut off their only way back. That… was very bad.
...
No response from Four. Knocked out, likely. And there she was, still lying on the floor.
From shock, stress and surprise? Probably.
Three flipped Four onto her back, feeling for her face… Still breathing. Good.
Safe and sound, just unconscious.
A part of her considered leaving Four behind. Let her rest while she continued onward, securing the site, finding out what the shell attacked them. She knew Four would object, that they should delay their attack. But Three knew deep down in her cartilage that they needed to strike. Strike now.
It might throw her into a boiling pot, but at the same time, this went beyond the command structure. She was in the field, in the thick of it. She could take the initiative if need be. She had earned that coddamn right.
Equally, was it right to leave Four behind, defenseless?
…
Agh. Damn her heart.
She shook Four around a bit, mumbling various nothings under her breath. Four was just out of it due to shock, not a concussion or anything worse, thankfully. Her crude methods would have to do.
Her hands fell to Four's shoulders.
No turning back now.
Nope nope nope! Fuck this! Fuuuuuuck this!
His insides were splitting apart, writhing like snakes, burning. His ears rung like no tomorrow. With a final push, he collapsed into the damnable janitor's room, forcing the broken sliding door shut behind him.
He was trapped! Trapped! Boxed in! By his own goddamn hand! Fuck!
Oh, he'd messed up. He had messed up bad. His one shot of freedom, literally speaking, and he blew it!
What had he been thinking?!
What was wrong with him!?
He had almost killed someone! And for what? A quick escape?
Fuck! God damn it!
And now what? He's got a pissed off pseudo cutting off his only way out, and an entire base of probably equally pissed off pseudos in front of him. The latter didn't even matter, seeing as he accidentally collapsed the only way out!
Calm down, CALM DOWN!
Ok, think, think!
Clearly, going up against one pseudo was better than going up against the veritable army of psuedos in the Shelter proper. That was mathematically sound. The lone pseudo had ambushed him, yes, as well as knew he was here now. Yet, their only option was either to continue along the tunnel or hold their position.
But even then, escape via the tunnel wasn't even an option anymore. He had heard it collapse! Why did he think of firing his rifle in there at all!?
But, there was at least one silver lining to this.
More likely than not, the rifle discharge wasn't heard from within the bunker. It had been a fair distance away, and he figured it was likely not all that audible past the din of the Shelter's central dome. A small comfort, yet it did little to ease his nerves.
After all, he was still reeling from the past few minutes.
There was only one way forward for him now; a long tunnel, a chokepoint, a killzone. From an empirical standpoint, a simple equation to solve. But that disregarded the human element.
He couldn't kill them. He physically couldn't pull the trigger.
Thou shalt not kill.
Thou. Shalt. Not. Kill!
Even to save his life, his species.
Those monstrosities that assaulted him right after he got out of Polaris? That was different. They were feral, mutated freakshows intent on murdering him and those pseudos.
But this… he couldn't do it. Actual living, breathing beings.
As much as it scared him, they were too much like humans.
He took a deep, shuddery breath. There were… other options he could pursue.
Gently, he cracked open the door. Light spilled into the darkened tunnel, chasing back the darkness. And, consequently, illuminating a very angry pseudo woman at the edge of its reach, wearing an odd, almost high-vis vest and holding a highlighted, glowing pistol, sleek and futuristic in its design.
Not to mention the eyes. Two teal irises, glimmering in the dark. Boring directly into his soul.
Nope! Screw that!
He slammed the door shut, mind already racing. What kind of weapon was she holding? Magnetic, plasma!? Why else would it be glowing? No one tricked out their weapons with luminescence, not unless they were threatening their intent.
Fuck! What else could it be? Why else would there be all sorts of lights on it?! Style!?
She could blow him away before he could even raise his coilgun, let alone charge a shot in the damn thing! He was lucky to still be alive!
All thoughts of fighting her flew from his mind. He had to bail, now!
He rushed from the door, barging out the janitor's closet door into the hall. That pseudo was no doubt about to barrel through the place right behind him. A soldier, no doubt. Soldiers beat scientists almost every time, and he was most definitely not bulletproof.
Throwing all caution to the wind, he tore through the door out to the Shelter's central room. His only shot out of here was going to be down that maze of catwalks, past all the pseudos and their little abominations. Could he really sneak past them?
Regardless of his fears, he had no choice but to try.
"What in the-?"
Rebecca craned her neck upwards, looking near the top of the dome. She had just finished sweeping another hall when she heard it. A bang, like something heavy and metal dropping. Then, the sound of something running on the walkways, way above them. She could barely hear it over the ambient sound of the Dome.
That couldn't be right. Had one of her sisters begun exploring the upper levels already? If so, why would they be running? They were a disciplined force; it was unprofessional to run outside of combat. Wasteful of energy and vigor. Suffice to say, her own spurts of energetic running had been thoroughly removed during her training.
Still, something was off.
Against her better judgment, she made her way to one of the winding stairs along the edge of the dome. So far, they had proven to be the only way to traverse between the various catwalk levels within the Dome itself, save for super jumping. And that in and of itself was terrifying, trying to land pinpoint on a thin walkway over an abyss. The fact that the surface was grated didn't help. Some of her sisters had already fallen through on accident; the rare scream always caused her to flinch.
The running became louder and louder. She had almost made it up the stairs when she got a clear look. A… someone concealed entirely in gray, the gear all but unfamiliar to her. It didn't look anything like an Inkling, but it clearly wasn't with them either. An intruder…?
Who promptly ducked back into the complex through one of the upper level's doors.
What?
She cautiously reached the top level, weapon at the ready. She wasn't afraid, exactly, curious, perhaps? A strange mixture of the two?
Someone was trying to sneak around, but who? Not one of the accursed Inklings, obviously. They would never resort to such a low-brow move. They were too proud for that. Also stupid too, she amended.
That suspicion was confirmed when a different door, not far from her, burst open, spilling out two very real, actual Inklings. And…
Rebecca stopped in her tracks. They made eye contact. It was them. Training and drills took over where emotions failed.
Without missing a beat, she grabbed her radio and made the call.
"All units, be advised; Agents Three and Four have entered the Dome. I repeat, Agents Three and Four are in the AO. Requesting immediate support at my position, highest catwalk level. Over."
Her voice was calm, monotone. A safe mode she had defaulted to. She had reclipped the radio back to her belt before she could hear the chorus of questions.
With that, the spell broke.
The taller agent, Three, ran at her, her shooter aimed right at her.
Oh! There was the panic!
She had barely screamed before she exploded into a violent shade of green.
"Did you really have to splat her?"
Three lowered her Hero Shot, "Yes."
"But… why? Y-You could have at least given her a warning."
"And…? She's the enemy," Three said, condescension dripping from her voice, "If we left her, she would've flanked us later on. Not every Octoling's like Eight, Four."
"But-"
"No buts. We have a golden opportunity here, and we're not wasting it. C'mon!"
"Wha-" Four stammered, running dangerously behind on events.
"We're taking this base, like it or not. There's only a few Octolings, and I know damn well we can take 'em." She failed to mention the unknown number of regular Octarians present, but they were complete and utter pushovers.
"Um… Callie's going to be cool with this, right?"
"Yeah." Technically, they'd failed to establish contact since entering the tunnel, but Callie would surely approve. Especially now, with how brightly their respawn anchors were shining that satisfying green glow of theirs..
Three might've been bending the rules a tad (a lot), but this opportunity was one she simply couldn't pass up. They were getting the chance to take this Dome for themselves, before the Octarians established a solid foothold. And the mystery of who attacked them? Two birds with one stone. Two incredibly dangerous, difficult birds brought to heel.
Efficiency was always something to strive for. And standing around, talking, wasn't efficient. Even if their attacker had disappeared, it was still probably around here somewhere. And every prospective moment not hunting it down, nor securing this Dome was time wasted.
They had to keep moving, keep the pace up.
She had known they would be assaulting a new Dome, but… it didn't feel like an Octarian one, not by a longshot. And she wasn't referring to the lack of stickers or other inane decorations. They had the larger, singular light bulb illuminating everything, and the general structure of Dome, but the details were all off. Much smaller, walkways instead of floating platforms, it all felt more… compact. Official.
Non… Octarian.
And yet, very familiar.
But they could worry about all of those small details once the Octarians had been expunged. And for all intents and purposes, they had upset the hornet's nest. Already, a group of Octolings were ascending to greet them. Taking the stairs, of course. Small blessings.
"Hope you've been training, Four." Three said, her voice growing grim, "You're going to need it."
"That's… ominous. They're just a few Octolings. We can take them."
"Have you not seen what we're standing on?"
Four looked to her feet, seeing the grating under them, and the level under them, and finally, the distant floor.
"Oh. I see the problem."
"Good. Conserve your ink. We're in for a rough fight." she said. If nothing else, it was a challenge. The thought was a… nice one.
It had been too long.
Three was already well on her way to the winding stairway, Four not far behind. The Octoling force had begun up the stairs, little sense of tact or formation. Sloppy, but it made her job easier.
Three shouted, jumping down the stairs, Hero Shot firing rapid globs of ink into the oncoming horde. They didn't stand a chance; none stood in her way by the end, their only remainders staining the grated ground.
Now, thirty seconds before they were back. They fought a losing battle, going uphill against a superior foe. A gritted smile came to her face.
This wouldn't be easy, but was entirely doable. Something to break up the boring repetition of her usual life, even her double life as an agent.
Now, how long would this mission take to grow stale?
If it did, she could always let Four take over. Well, maybe. They had linked up to the respawner the Octarians had set up, so theoretically, they were safe. Would make all of Four's blunders ultimately consequence free. Though granted, if they did get splatted and respawn there, they would probably just be splatted over and over again. That would… not good.
Oh look! They were back! And they were even organized better than before! One of them even had a charger now!
Cute.
"Yahhhh!" Three shrieked, charging forward.
The splatterscope fired, yet with the grace of an acrobat, Three twisted out of the way. They could only slow her down.
Once again, Three dispatched the horde of Octolings, sending them back to their respawner. Move forward, and by then, they were back. Splat. Rinse, repeat.
All brutally efficient, little hiccups.
And, excluding Four. She was in an awkward spot, just watching from behind, holding her own Hero Shot. She had yet to fire a single shot, and Three had given her no chance to help. So much for teamwork. They simply weren't trained to work together. That and it didn't help the walkways were rather thin as well; not enough room to stride forward side by side.
Regardless, why should they have been trained like to work as one?
After all, this was her and Three's first, true joint mission.
Truly, a fluke they were together on this. It just kinda… happened. Had this method of attack not opened up, Three would have forced her way in through the main entrance, leaving Four on standby in case things went pear shaped. And knowing Three, the situation would never have looked to resemble any fruit.
But this? The Octolings ran up again, this time throwing a cluster of bombs their way. Three backpedaled to avoid the explosions, then ran forward, ink flying. And since the Octolings had wasted all their ink on the bombs, they were defenseless. Once again, they were sent back to the respawner.
It was actually starting to become boring, relatively speaking. This place definitely wasn't an Octarian Dome, and that encompassed their base designs. No inkrails, lines, super jump pads, or even the iconic Octarian floating platforms! Just boring, restricting catwalks.
They didn't even have any pretty scenery to admire, seeing as none of the Dome walls had any screens. Just boring gray.
Ugh.
Three smacked down the Octolings, again.
Four stopped briefly, leaning on the railing. Below them, she could see the squad rejuvenate back to life, popping out of their respawner. Just as quickly, they were climbing up the stairs again to greet them, shouting war cries and barking orders to one another.
Did respawning restore their energy, or something? Or was their physical conditioning just that good? Certainly would explain some things about Eight.
She looked up to the bulb lighting the Dome, rolling her eyes. The world may never-
Her eyes came back down, brushing along the upper levels, alighting on someone above them.
…who happened to look suspiciously familiar.
Even from a glance, she knew who it was. The same, gray mask was etched into her memory, as much as their boot's pattern was etched in her foot.
Even if her innards had begun to buzz in surprise, she kept her external posture indifferent. It took all her willpower not to stare, but if they realized that she knew they were here…
Well, it wouldn't be good, that much she knew. Why were they up there? They were like some kind of bottom feeder, watching the carnage to see what they could scavenge out of it.
Motives aside, if they played this out correctly, perhaps they could be captured along with the Dome?
She got up from the railing, huffing as Three dispatched the Octolings again. Perhaps it was good that she was around. A charger couldn't operate without a spotter, right?
"Again!"
Rebecca barely spared a look at their superior as she and her sisters ran back up the walkways.
The sneak attack by the two agents had caught them entirely off guard. They'd somehow gotten into the Dome through the top level, easily taking the high ground. And with their superior equipment, they had no problem beating the Octarian forces back. Combined with how the narrow walkways restricted their movement, and the grating, they were sitting targets, unable to get much of anything in edgewise. Even with their chargers, the limited range and poor angles they had to work with made them impractical at best.
It was a situation Rebecca and her fellow siblings had never encountered.
But, some things they knew; The agents had to run out of ink at some point. If they kept up the pressure, they could win this by ink conservation. A battle of attrition.
Though, in her opinion, it was futile. They simply couldn't count on that.
Which was why, instead of rushing up the stairs, she ducked into the complex. It may have been disregarding the orders of her superior, but equally, if she actually managed to splat them, it could mean all sorts of commendations for her in ingenuity, intuition, initiative, and other words that started with an 'i'.
Thankfully, it wasn't too hard to ascend quickly. She was retreading old ground, and before she knew it, she was up on one of the higher levels, above the agents. They had already made good progress, about halfway down.
She had just stepped out onto the catwalk, when her plan hit a snag. Specifically, a large, vaguely cephalopod-shaped one.
A person covered head to toe in thick gray, pointing a strange, white charger at her chest. An emotionless mask staring her down, a pair of lenses hiding faintly visible eyes.
She hadn't done much to muffle her footsteps. Whoops.
...
One.
The person didn't move, just holding the charger, keeping it level at her chest. The charger shook in their grip. Their whole body twinged like a leaf. They murmured something, shaking their head.
Two.
Both stood at a brittle impasse. Both didn't want to be heard, obviously.
Three!
With lightning speed, she dove back through the door, swiftly rolling to the side. In an instant she was up against the wall, out of sight thanks to the door frame.
No shot followed.
She breathed out in relief, only for her to suddenly choke on air as the person followed in after her. There was no point in taking chances now. Just after they crossed the threshold, about to see her, she leapt out of her spot, wildly spraying them with ink.
The same ink which bounced off their suit, not even leaving a stain.
W-What!? That couldn't-
The elbow that followed broke her shock.
…
The tight feeling around Rebecca's wrists and ankles was what brought her back.
She blinked the bleariness from her eyes, trying to shake the fog from her mind. The side of her head stung from the blow, and her brain prickled in pain. She tried to move her extremities, and found she couldn't.
A cold spike pierced her heart when she saw them. They were tied up! She got captured!
She wasn't bound by rope, but by long, spindly, yet strong wires that bound her wrists and ankles. They cut into her flesh, close to drawing blood.
And the same person stood over her, securing the bonds further.
Ow ow ow ow ow…
She hissed in pain. The tightening relented, only for her to be staring down the masked figure, who stared right back at her. The mask was emotionless, but she could've sworn there was an air of regret? The slouched back, the stance? The harsh and alien, yet apologetic mutterings? The… head… pat? Huh?
How'd this night become so insane so quickly?
Just as suddenly as they'd arrived and whacked her upside the head, the gray suited stranger was gone, their fleeting footsteps slipping back into the Dome proper.
No matter. She easily slipped out of the bonds via her Octopus form. One simple morph, and the bonds practically fell off. They hadn't even tied them properly! The trick was to restrict the torso, not tie the legs and wrists. Did they really think that would work?
Maybe. They hadn't even bothered with a gag. Though, those bonds had been tied well enough…
Practically everything about them raised questions, but for now, repelling all the invaders was more important than any answers.
She unclipped her radio from her belt.
"All units, be advised; there's a third hostile intruder here. Requesting reinforcements to the uppermost catwalk, once again."
A pause. What does she need, this time…? Oh!
"Bring a splatling, too. Over."
The rest of her brothers and sisters could handle the Agents. She, on the other hand, would take down this unknown target with the help of the summoned posse. A gamble, but one she knew would pay off in the end.
She had waited a few moments before stepping back out into the Dome, and fortunately, she didn't repeat her previous mistake. The person stood away from the door, a good length of catwalk between them. Still watching, still observing.
If they played this right, they could take out all three.
This was SO getting her promoted.
The Octarians had begun to prove to be a bit of a challenge, shockingly enough.
For one, they had begun deploying a few of their flying Octochoppers now that they were close enough to the ground. The sudden torrent of ink and bombs had proven irksome, yet with a graceful dodge, they were quickly equalized. Unfortunately for the Octarians, they were well within range of her Hero Shot.
Classic Octarian goof.
The stingray hadn't been fun either. One of the Octolings had unleashed the vile beam from the base of the Dome. Thankfully, it didn't split the thin walkway apart, yet the beam still forced her to give ground. Until it stopped. The brief reprieve the Octoling troops had felt was cut off by her weapon. Did they really think it would work?
They were becoming smarter with their tactics, but it was of no concern. All within acceptable bounds. For now, she and Four had some breathing room.
Everything was fine, until suddenly, three Octolings super jumped past their position, onto the walkway level above them. She saw them land precisely; meaning someone else had to be up there, guiding their jump. Four Octolings in total, at least.
But, she caught a glimpse of one more person. One wearing gray…
So, there's that asshole…
"Four!" She barked suddenly, "Cover me! I'm going up!"
Without waiting for a reply, she pushed past a surprised Four. She could hold back the tide for now. Three had faith in her. The Dome could always be reconquered; this person was an elusive target.
A thrill coursed through her body.
This was her chance! This was her chance!
And if those Octolings got in her way, they would take a few more hard knocks.
She was almost up the steps when she heard a distant yell come from the gathered Octolings, and the sound of a heavy splatling wind up. And luckily for her, she had the perfect view.
Three watched as the stranger was assaulted by heavy splatling fire. The ink bullets bounced off of them, making meaty impacts and forcing, well, frankly, unnatural screams from them. Yet they pushed forward, one arm shielding their face against the ink fire. Not splatting.
That was new. And concerning. Some new, prototype armor? She knew they existed, but to be one hundred percent effective against enemy ink?
Regardless, they were softening up her target. How nice of them.
An Octoling shouted, seemingly just as confused as to why the splatling wasn't working. Then, another came up next to the splatling user with a Stingray in hand.
She had considered stepping in, but at the sight of the Stingray she stepped back, ready to dodge the pressurized blast. They might not have been aiming for her, but who knew how accurate they were?
Heh. They really were doing all the work for her.
After they were done, it was her cue to move.
As her brother let the Stingray pulse out, Rebecca couldn't help but smile. It may have been petty, yes, but her sore wrists and ankles called for blood. This may have been disproportionate retribution; like she cared.
Payback, nerd!
What made it even better was how panicked they were. The rising shriek of building pressure clearly terrified them. They were stuck like a bird in a spotlight, one hand on the railing, bracing themselves.
Like that would help.
Glorious, truly.
Her euphoria furthered when the beam fired. Finally, revenge!
...
The smile quickly fell from her face.
The Stingray shot was perfect. A direct hit.
But, it didn't splat them.
It sprayed wildly against them, pulverizing them, but they withstood it, just barely. Their grip on the railing loosened.
Then, the Stingray petered out. As soon as the force stopped, they dropped to a knee, exhausted.
Rebecca was taken aback.
What? How did- what?! Stingrays could pierce through even the best Octarian armor! Through concrete! How was this person still standing?! How, in all of the seven seas, did they survive a direct Stingray hit?
She watched in horror as they forced themself back onto their feet, shakily picking their charger back up off the metal grating below. The same charger was now leveled at their little group, but was not fired. The figure holding it seemed almost hesitant, unsure of what to do. They were angry, no doubt, but they weren't acting on that anger.
It was a weakness she was all too happy to exploit. If a Stingray couldn't rend them to pieces, then ink and blunt force trauma had to do.
Raising her Octoshot, she was the first to leap at them, shouting a warcry as she ran.
Yet they still didn't fire, didn't attack.
The same couldn't be said for the solid charger buttstock that slammed into her face. It knocked her down, throwing her into a daze.
Yet, her sacrifice wasn't in vain.
While she writhed on the catwalk in pain, she heard ineffectual weapons fire from her sisters and brothers, followed by shouts of surprise.
Forcing down the pain, she got back to her feet, just in time to see a few of them pile onto the intruder, trying to wrestle them to the ground. Yet, they weren't able to restrain them. They couldn't get a grip due to their flailing, and said flailing was quite effective at knocking them off. However, they were still entangled in the mass of bodies. Not even their struggling could get them out.
The stranger was desperate, acting like a cornered animal. Luck was on the Octarian's side, though, as purple ink covered their eyes and her unit kept them down through sheer numbers.
Eventually, their struggling ceased, degrading into panting and small spasms. The bottom of an Octoling pile, subdued.
Yes!
She cautiously knelt down, staring at them through its nearly opaque mask. It was petty, yes, but a little gloating never hurt.
"Not so tough now, are ya?"
But they weren't listening to her words; rather, they were fixated on the old dualie-like artifact tucked into her waistband. She followed their gaze. Did they recognize it?
Her question was quickly answered, as all shell broke loose.
The stranger's struggles renewed, far more desperate than ever, along with un-cephalopod shrieking, like a fork on a plate. The animalistic yowling startled her squadmates, who were thrown off their target's back as they forced themselves up with a roar.
She stepped back as they reared onto their feet.
On pure instinct, she pulled the strange weapon from her waistband, pointing it at the struggling person's head. Point blank. They were scared of it, she knew.
Anything to take them down.
Time all but stopped for them.
They made eye contact. Emotionless goggles met opaque lenses.
A moment of peace in a sea of chaos.
She pulled the trigger.
/ REWRITE A/N: /
Once more, Falk returns!
Pardon my French, but this is where shit gets real.
Proper fight scenes, action, mayhem, it's all kicking off here. There wasn't all that much that needed to be done with this chapter, mostly because all the work's going to going in the next two chapters or so.
For those of you who're new to THE POLARIS PROJECT, buckle up. For those of you who are rereading, and especially if you're the guy on FFN who we lost because 'it got too HFY for you,' hopefully what'll be coming next will be better than what was there before. If it's not, then, uh… crap. I dunno. We tried.
Anyway.
Other than that, there's not much else I can really talk about when it comes to rewriting this chapter, other than changes to Rebecca's dialogue (bringing it more towards proper military communications, versus the very casual original lines) and the introduction of yet another Chekov's Gun (a newfound obsession of mine) so I'll be letting 2021 Piston take over the A/N for this chapter.
We hope you enjoyed it, and we're looking forward to seeing you in the next one! Have a good one!
/ ORIGINAL A/N: /
This will be a longer Author's notes. Apologies.
Another chapter is down! It was going to be longer originally, but it grew, way, way too messy for a single chapter. Sometimes, sacrifices have to be mad, but believe me, it was for the best. As fun as a 10k chapter would be, I don't want to dump too much on you all at once.
I'm hoping this chapter makes up for six, though. It was fairly rushed due to personal reasons, and I'm beginning to regret that. I have half a mind to go back and improve it, yet equally, it could backfire. Do you think I should? It's more soulless the rest of the story, at least in my opinion.
The point being, thanks for sticking with me so far, even if this story is far from perfect. It truly means a lot, and hopefully, with what comes next, it will meet your expectations. We'll see what happens.
Or, if nothing else, trying to fix this mess going forward. Any criticism or improvements you may have would be greatly appreciated.
Onto other things. Truly intriguing that we'll be receiving a third game in the series, no? I suppose we'll be seeing a new era of fanfictions come around as a result. It's funny, in a sense. We can categorize many stories on this site based on which game had been out at the time. I like to think of them as the S1 era, the S2 era, and soon enough, the S3 era. I wonder if this story should've been written in the first era. Might have made it better, I'm not sure. It would be nostalgic, that much I know.
Suffice to say, we'll probably be sticking with the Splatoon 2 setting. Technically, this story takes place about 2 or 3 years after the events of 2, so we're in the S3 time period, but I digress.
Thank you for reading these inane ramblings, and as well for the kind words you have all left! I'm not sure why you're doing it, but thanks! See you in the next chapter!
This may be a bit informal, but shit will be going down next time.
