What was Rebecca's life? Some sort of cautionary tale?
There was an old saying in Octarian society, something that more or less translated to 'better the devil you know.' Rebecca had never quite understood it; for all her life, there had only been one eternal enemy, the Inklings, and by extension, those who stood by them. Who else was there to fight? The Salmonids?
Was the first Stranger, and… whoever this new Stranger was the answer to that question? Was the true enemy these beings who lurked in the shadows, unknowable and beyond comprehension?
If nothing else, they had opened her eyes on the subject. Only recently had she realized that 'enemies' didn't just have to be just the Inklings, or even people, for that matter. First, she had learned that there were enemies aside from the Inklings, and secondly, that said enemies could also be environments, such as the creepy forests she'd opted to get herself lost in. In hindsight, she should have just taken up the Agent's offer to stay under their protection, or swallowed her pride and returned home. But nope, she just had to choose her new enemies over the Agents, and they were much, much worse.
Rebecca usually wasn't this philosophical, but what could she say? As of late, there had been little else to do but think. It staved off the mind numbing boredom, and of course, kept her distracted from her terrifying new reality.
Like yesterday, waking up had not been fun. While waking up next to a slumbering Agent was terrifying, waking up bound and gagged in a dark cave with a splitting headache and a nasty leg wound was much, much worse. And yet, as the hours dragged on with nothing much happening after that, the situation went from a terrifying one to one that quickly left her exhausted and bored out of her mind. All she could do was think and feel, waiting for something, anything, to happen.
To pass the time, Rebecca ran through a little mental checklist of all the things currently wrong with her.
For one, her bonds and gag were sloppily tied, the tight rope chafing her skin. Her wrists, ankles, were bound by the rope, and worst, one segment compressed her torso to prevent her from transforming; she couldn't flex properly to do so, on top of the partial restriction of blood. Her right leg was bandaged, noticeably much more carefully than how she was tied up.
Thankfully, it seemed like she could still crawl, which led to her second discovery; the floor was rocky and uncut, uncomfortable to crawl on, and combined with the dank, earthy smell, told her that she was in a cave, a natural one to boot. As the sun rose, a small beam of sunlight fell through a small skylight, slowly illuminating the cavern.
It reminded Rebecca of home, one she should never have left.
Scratch that; she never should have returned to these woods. She may have avoided her new captor otherwise.
After what felt like an eternity, the new Stranger ambled into Rebecca's earthy prison, dragging her out and unceremoniously dropping her at the edge of a small fire. From there, she was forced into a seated position, a plate with bits of cooked fish laid out on her lap.
With that, the Stranger huffed and sat across from her, on the other side of the fire. She shifted nervously under their piercing gaze, appetite gone no thanks to the sloppy bindings constricting her torso.
They were the one enigma that she couldn't figure out, the one piece out of place. Even the Stranger hadn't been this obtuse; they at least had a presumed reason to have been at the Dome. What excuse did her captor have to be out here, and what were the odds that she would run into them?
And why capture her? Clearly, they had been intent on killing her, initially, at least. Their small weapon had carried the same, fearsome potency of the Stranger's own, they very much could have ended her life. And almost had, what with at least one tree falling on her and all.
They were connected to that first Stranger somehow, that much she knew.
And, in a way, they might give her more clues as to who they were. Or, more accurately, she might give Rebecca more clues.
Because, at the current moment, her captor was sitting across the fire from her, unmasked.
She was a woman, about her height, much of her body concealed by a maroon and white jumpsuit of sorts. Her face was sharp and angular, almost bird-like in the uncertain light of the fire.
And unlike anyone Rebecca had ever met, her slightly sunken eyes had no highlights or masks whatsoever. It somehow looked natural on her. As did her ears, which were smaller and less obtrusive than Rebecca's own. And as she took bites from her own plate of fish, Rebecca noted the lack of any plated fangs or a beak, instead seeing a grouping of small, flat, individual teeth.
They could pass as an Inkling or Octoling from a distance, maybe? Well, until one factored in her dirty blonde hair, was it? She knew some of the creatures on the surface had hair, most notably the Salmonids and all, and she had also heard the stories of the 'cat' the Inklings kept around and how it had something similar, except all over its whole body. Was her captor like that 'cat?'
Just… what was she?
If she was another Stranger, then what did the one from the Dome look like?
Did they have the same, piercing glare that she was currently subjected to? Were their eyes sunken and unmarked, their teeth flat and individualistic?
Her captor quirked an eyebrow with a 'hmph,' having grown tired of being stared at. Even her dry and raspy voice was similar to the first Stranger's, albeit higher in tone.
Rebecca took the hint. There wasn't much else to look at around the small area, though.
The cave they were situated in was a small one, only lit by the small cooking fire in the center, as well as a tiny, natural skylight the smoke was drifting out of. Yet, it was far from empty. All kinds of miscellaneous junk was scattered around the cave, some more interesting than others.
Spare bits of lumber and metal, discarded food wrappers, and tools of all kinds littered the ground. Some of it had been used to construct the ramshackle door that presumably led to the outside, or at least Rebecca thought. Her own prison was a branch off of this main room, a place that had an equally ramshackle door to secure her in.
And to cause her further internal grief and curiosity, a suit of charred, black armor was piled against one wall. The plated, yet flexible material looked as if it had been worn through an inferno, and the mask of the suit was eerily similar to the Stranger's own.
Meanwhile, her captor's weapon was within an easy arm's reach, able to be scooped up in an instant. It was short and bulky, a graceless shooter that hurt her eyes to look at. It reminded her more of a dualie, the more she looked at it. A singlie, perhaps? She didn't really know. It was a foreign weapon, one that gave off an imperceptible glow, and an equally hidden hum.
What wasn't foreign was the strange angular scythe strapped to her side, still lightly stained in her blood. Was her leaving it unclean some sort of threat?
The two ate in a strained silence. One tepidly eating bites of fish, the other devouring her own share of the meal, all the while studying the Octoling.
Eventually, however, all the fish was gone.
Rebecca's captor put her plate down, and forcefully plastered a smile onto her face. Rebecca cringed slightly; it was far from convincing, more akin to the grimace. It unnerved Rebecca, even when all her captor did was bring out a notebook and pen.
So that was why she had been given fish, to butter her up, put her at ease! Rebecca knew an interrogation when she saw one. Instinctively, she gulped, hands balled against her lap.
…
In retrospect, 'interrogation' may have been a strong word.
"...I'm not sure what that is. An Inkling brand?"
Like the first Stranger, her captor was just as inept with the Aquatic language. Rebecca couldn't understand her, and vice versa. As had already been proven, however, words weren't needed to convey information.
"That's just a zapfish. Why are you showing me this?"
And as Rebecca expected, there was no answer.
As if she would be getting any soon. She was already reeling from the madness of the whole scenario; out of everything she had been expecting, being shown a scrapbook was low on that list.
Her captor was flipping through a grimy notebook, each page containing a smattering of symbols, either crudely drawn, stickers, or outright stolen advertisements.
And for each one, her captor pointed and asked the same phrase. By now, Rebecca was fairly sure that in her language, it translated to 'and this?' And for every time Rebecca tried to answer, all she did was mark something down in the notebook.
It was dull, and boring.
Well, except for the fact that due to their close proximity, Rebecca could get a better look at her captor, this new stranger. The two, the old and new Stranger, were connected somehow, could they both be the same species? They both had a similar feel, as strange as the concept was. Something her gut recognized, not necessarily her head.
Still, quite dull.
Until...
The new Stranger flipped to the last page of their scrapbook, a triangular logo sketched on it. Two swooping lines cut into the middle of the triangle, a familiar design to many an Octarian.
"That's… Kamabo? Where did you find that?!"
…
Everything after Kamabo was a blur.
Rebecca could only stare numbly as the book was put away, the fire extinguished, and she was returned to her makeshift prison. She didn't put up any resistance when her hands were re-tied, nor when her legs were untied.
Even the newly provided electric lamp and blanket did little to snap her out of the funk.
She knew about Kamabo! HOW!?
Kamabo Kamabo Kamabo, it was all she could think of.
How did this Stranger know about Kamabo?
Kamabo was an enigma, a malicious legend buried deep within the subconscious of Octarian society.
Rebecca knew almost nothing about what it truly was, but the name's power still forced fear into her heart. The whispers and rumors were quiet, yet spoke of kidnappings, a hell made manifest, shapeless. Its symbol always popped up on the lower levels of the Domes, graffitied by lowlives who thought they were funny and tough. Or, that was the explanation that let her sleep at night.
And yet, this Stranger knew about Kamabo, this enigmatic organization that was barely understood. Even knowing their symbol was a red flag; it simply never could have left Octarian society. Could defectors have spread the word about it?
Somehow, she didn't believe that.
What this Stranger wanted with Kamabo, she wasn't sure, but the mere fact that Kamabo was involved at all was horrifying. The Strangers had proven to be exceptionally dangerous and alien, and with this one's interest in Kamabo, the implications were potentially terrifying. Kamabo was powerful, that much she knew, and with someone like this Stranger trying to abuse that, who knew what could happen?
The thought brought an odd sense of clarity.
Rebecca huddled against one of the cave walls, sitting on her blanket, staring at the blocked off entrance. Any plans of biding her time here, patiently waiting to escape were out of the window now. She was not tangling with anything related to Kamabo. The only sensible thing left to do was to get out of dodge.
She needed to get to Inkopolis. Her pride has long since fled her, and compared to the current insanity she was in, living amongst her enemies was sane by comparison. She wouldn't have allies in the City, but at least she'd be able to blend in, to hide from the Strangers in the city streets where they wouldn't dare to tread.
Getting to the city was one thing, but getting out of here was another, though.
The earthy prison she was in wasn't exactly solid nor secure, in theory. This Stranger clearly didn't have too much to work with, seeing as Rebecca's little cave was only sealed off by a ramshackle door made from bits of scrap and lumber. It was the only obstacle between herself and freedom, if she didn't account for the Stranger's very probable presence. And even when her captor was factored in, she was only one person, someone who was injured, tired, and utterly terrified.
Her mind spun in overdrive, thinking about how many ways her escape could fail. Somehow breaking down the door, only to find her on the other end. Getting out, waking her up. Every interaction resulted in death, or something worse. And if Rebecca somehow did get out, she had no idea where she even was! And without a way to get out of her bindings, she was essentially crippled.
Rebecca was certain that this Stranger knew that. She didn't have any way to physically secure her at all times, so she had set up this twisted psychological prison for her instead. This Stranger wasn't a fool. These new amenities weren't for her comfort, it was a show of force, her captor's confidence in this prison's security.
Somehow, Rebecca would outplay this Stranger at her own game.
Deep beneath the earth, a lone soul walked, oblivious to the danger she was in.
…
Despite the freakiness of the so-called 'Deep-Sea Metro,' Sally still had high hopes.
The lone Inkling girl slowly crept along, sticking to the grimy walls of the abandoned subway tunnel. Her eyes carefully swept the area in front of her, the weak beam from her cheap 'squidkid's first' flashlight barely enough to light up the floor in front of her. It strained her eyes to focus with such little light, but without it, she was totally blind.
As much as she wanted to run full steam ahead, a stinging burn on her leg convinced her to keep her slow pace. The very space of this place was warped and dangerous; getting away with a small burn had been lucky. Taking it slow was boring, but anything to avoid another sudden random flame blast.
The pace wore on her. How long had she been walking, now? Time felt… strange down here, as if her mind wasn't firing properly. Even glancing at her watch was disorientating; hours would pass in what felt like seconds, yet seconds dragged on like hours.
Not that time mattered much down here. There would be no one coming to save her, even if her friends and family noticed that she was missing. The thought made her feel… icky inside, a foreign feeling that weighed real heavy on her hearts.
To her left, the ruined subway route branched off into a sub path, a sickly teal glow emitting from it. Sally instinctively inched away from it, putting as much space as she could between herself and the glow. Teal was not a good color, down here. Teal was death. A very acidic and painful death.
Whatever was in the tunnel had been reduced to a soupy solution, now a blistering array of acidic welts in the rock. It bumbled ominously, fiercely hissing. Even though she was backed up as far away from it as she could be, the destructive fumes made her feel all puke-y and woozy. Ugh.
Weird blasts of fire were far from the only danger down here. Far from the only 'anomaly,' as the Conductor had called them.
Sally sniffled, wiping the streaming snot from her nose. Even a small breath of the acid tunnel's fumes had driven prickly tears to her eyes.
She continued forward, hanging right and leaving the acid pool behind. She hadn't found anything groundbreaking so far, but she still held out hope. This place was definitely human made, and wherever untouched human structures were, there was bound to be artifacts and treasures. And if that strange Conductor's words were to be believed, this place hadn't seen much in the way of Inkopolis' finest archaeologists doing anything down here.
She'd thought that the dangers he spoke of was a total fib, something she could easily handle. After all, she managed to make it down to the upper Metro in the first place. That spoke for something, right?
As it turned out, the harrowing journey up to this point was only a warm-up. Everything down here in this lower Metro was… twisted, impossible to follow. And she thought the regular, populated Metro was bad.
This was worse. It utterly confounded her. Tunnels seemed to go on forever, looping endlessly, while some spaces looked… jacked up, for lack of a better term, like her younger cousin had mashed two glass light bulbs together for some weird reason.
It had been nothing but broken subway tunnels for what felt like hours. She knew that with subway tunnels came stations, and from there, ruins. Yet, where were the stations? Why would humans build this place? And more importantly, did they have something against subway stations, because this was ridiculous! What'd something as normal and friendly as a subway station do to humans?
There had been plenty of stations on that other subway line, the one that she rode into this place on! Ugh. Sally decided to just blame the weirdness of this place, whatever was causing it. Perhaps that's what the Conductor was referring to?
"Space is… strange, down there, and that's not to mention the spatial anomalies. Are you really sure you want to go down there?" the diminutive sea cucumber asked.
Even now, her answer was still 'yes.'
The location was dangerous, yes, but that meant it was untouched. Well, untouched if you didn't count the stray Salmonids, or even the hobos and squatters, none of which she had run into yet, thankfully.
Regardless, she wasn't leaving until she found something, anything that could help her family. She had already come this far, and her parents hadn't raised a quitter.
…
Much later, she leaned herself up against a dusty wall, twirling a strange rusty wrench between her fingers.
To keep, or to not?
…
Eh, why not?
And so it found a home in her backpack. The pickings down here were slim, and besides, it might be human made? Maybe?
She was beginning to have her doubts.
This Lower Metro… it was getting to her. Was it really made by humanity? It felt like something they would make, but at the same time it felt all wrong, and not because of its… unique choices. Her father had shown her pics of old human ruins, or at least, what he thought were human ruins.
Skyscrapers shrouded in rusty metal, buried deep in the ground, only the top levels exposed to the elements. Tunnels and underground facilities, revealed by Inkopolis infrastructure projects. A human statue in the bay of Inkopolis, having seemingly just risen from the waters overnight.
All of those felt more or less 'human' enough, to her. This Metro, though, she swore there was something off about it. Was it some kind of fake? Some kinda illusion, hiding something much scarier and weirder?
Maybe it wasn't even human-made? Something to do with the Octarians, perhaps? There were some pieces down here that definitely belonged to them.
Sally couldn't quite tell, either way. The place was a mess. If nothing else, whatever she pulled from here had to be worth something, human or not.
Aside from the wrench, the small maintenance room was bare, save for the sickly yellow light illuminating the space. Sally had found the room purely by chance; she had almost missed the side door, having been covered by all manner of grime and rust. Thankfully, the room beyond the door was much cleaner, much to her satisfaction.
She had been resting here the past few hours, finally being able to catch up on a bit of sleep, as well as eat a bit of food. It had only been a day or two, yet it felt like years since she had been able to let her guard down.
Sally shifted against the wall, trying to find a comfortable position. Already, her head was slumping onto her shoulder, exhaustion already gripping her consciousness. It was humid and warm, as if she were wrapped in a blanket.
With that, she drifted into an uneasy sleep.
Psychological manipulation was quite fickle, Rebecca knew that much.
It was a game of bluffs and counter-bluffs, lies and anticipation. In short, qualities in which Rebecca lacked. Some of the soldiers in her squadron had played their card games, none of which she was any good at. She did have luck with her patent pending 'Maximum Chaos Route,' however. All their careful planning and lies easily fell to her unpredictability. If even she didn't know what was going on, then could her opponents?
The Strangers were unpredictable, yes, but she could be as well.
She just had to pray that her luck held. For as much fun as the route of chaos was in a card game, it didn't always work out. And with the stakes so high, her nerves were on fire.
With such high stakes, she could concentrate, right?
Right.
Or, at least stay awake. She was ready for action, and felt like she could explode.
Waiting for night to fall was agony, to say the least. She wanted to fight, to do anything, but she had no choice but to bide her time. Everyone had to sleep at some point, or at least go outside, and Rebecca was certain that her captor wouldn't be content to sit around; she was planning something, clearly. And where would she have gotten everything in the cave? She had to go out to get them from somewhere.
And night was the only real time her captor could do that. Really, would she risk doing these clear thefts in the daylight? It was Rebecca's best bet, and she wasn't wasting it by waiting. Riskier, yes, but when it came to Kamabo, she was taking every chance to get away.
Her captor knew about Kamabo. There was no such thing as "too much risk" here.
Which was good, because her plan was quite risky. Some parts, at least.
There was a sharp stone outcrop jutting out of one of the corner walls, an innocuous spike hidden by the shadows. Rebecca had found it only by chance, while looking over every inch of her cell with the lantern. It was a dull edge, but she could work with dull.
And as the night properly fell, she acted.
The rope constricting her hands was some kind of rough twine, not impossible to cut, but difficult. Though, she had nothing but time, even if it took an hour to wear through the bindings. And with her arms free, it was easy enough to force the rope from her torso off.
The easy part, done, and the point of no return, passed. She couldn't imagine what would happen if her captor caught her with her bindings off.
But with any luck, Rebecca would be long gone by that point. Which, of course, tied back into her plan.
She could maybe slip under the ramshackle, wooden door with her swim form, but that was still too risky, even by her standards. Not that she wouldn't resort to it, but she had a much better option. And all it had taken to find it was to look up.
Her prison had a skylight, a small one, but large enough to shoot out through with a properly aimed super jump. Landing would be an issue, but compared to trying to sneak out the 'conventional' way, she would deal with it. It certainly was chaotic enough for her. Simple, but chaotic.
Rebecca sighed, steeling her resolve. Slowly, carefully, she walked under the skylight, lining herself up for the perfect shot. There was very little room for error here; clipping the edge of the skylight could actually kill her. She frowned, holding up an arm to judge the trajectory; a very steep angle would be best.
Satisfied, Rebecca morphed into her swim form, building up more and more pressure within her. Not enough for a true jump, but enough to get through. The skylight was all she focused on… get that perfeeeeeect angle…
And release!
She shot through the skylight, into the free night.
For a moment, she was suspended in the air, moonlight streaming across her body. The land was nothing but forest for kilometers around, with Inkopolis' lights faintly glimmering in the distance.
Even with a weak jump, she had flown high in the air. But not for long, as gravity was more than happy to reclaim her. And reclaim her it did, pulling her down through the foliage and into the ground. She crashed through the brush painfully, rolling for a moment before slowing to a crawl.
Rebecca laid there for a moment, staring up at the night sky.
It worked…
It worked! YES!
Rebecca sat up, energy coursing through her body at the thought. She had been partially expecting for something to have gone wrong, after the whole Dome debacle, and actually having her plan work perfectly felt… strange. Something still felt wrong.
She scrambled upright, taking cover behind a tree. Rebecca rapidly thought over her jump, remembering which way the cave had been. It was downhill from here, actually. Which… meant it was between her and Inkopolis, if she was correct.
…great.
Still, though, she could work with this.
Inkopolis was still far. Very, very far by foot, and she had nothing but the clothes on her back. Could she even make it? Why hadn't she considered that?
Rebecca already knew the answer, and what she had to do. A tight feeling constricted her core, her vision dimming slightly at the thought. She was unarmed, and the trek to the city would be nigh impossible in the cold night, especially if an angry Stranger's afoot. She needed supplies, anything.
With nothing else to do, she slowly crept down the steep hill, sticking to the shadows as best as she could. Every flicker of motion sent terror through her hearts, every sound amplified to a ludicrous degree.
Somehow, somehow, she made it down back to her prison skylight. Looking down through it was… strange, to see it from this perspective. Terrifying, too. Being so close to this den had overwhelmed her sense of fear. It took everything in her to not just make a break for it, to run for Inkopolis and never look back.
Rebecca was a trained soldier. Intelligence gathering was something she had to do. Anything to have a shot against the Strangers.
She found the other skylight, the one used to filter smoke out of the main cave. Cautiously peering down through it, she saw the fire was out, and after a careful bit of looking, she also noticed that the Stranger wasn't home. The only source of light was the moon.
So she was out. Perfect.
Rebecca carefully dropped down into the cave, spryly landing on the rocky ground. There was no time to waste.
She began looking around, digging through everything she could. The armor was gone, as well as the Stranger's weapon. While she would've appreciated being able to get the drop on the Stranger for once, she was also alright with confirmation that they were out and about and not here in the cave with her. For that, she was thankful.
Like she had seen previously, most of the scrap here was just that, scrap. Bits of wood, a stolen sign (what?), construction tools of every variety, nothing that she had use for. There wasn't even any food, or, well, any that she could find. Not for lack of trying, either. Everything was piled up haphazardly, as if the Stranger hadn't cared about the arrangement at all. That wasn't right.
Was this some kind of distraction?
Maybe she was looking at this wrong. Every second spent here was dangerous, but curiosity was at least a little warranted here. Anything to help her figure out just who the Stranger was.
Rebecca retrieved the lantern from her previous prison, and took a better look around the main cavern. And with an actual source of light, she spotted the anomaly right away. A conspicuous-looking pile of wood was piled up against one wall, dense and impenetrable. Rebecca knew chaos, and she knew fabricated chaos.
Pulling aside several of the planks revealed her prize; a small, metal box, locked.
Rebecca almost laughed at the futility of the pathetic thing. Grabbing a miniature crowbar from the tool pile, she easily pried the box open.
Inside was nothing but photos and paper, but thrown right on top of them-
Her communicator! Yes!
Rebecca snatched it from the box, immediately turning it on. The warm glow of the screen brought a small smile to her face. She wasn't one to call for a rescue from the Agents, but this was an exception.
Within seconds, she had opened the contacts and selected Agent Three. She was easily the strongest, and the most hated, but those were admirable qualities at this particular moment.
She waited with bated breath, hearing each ring of the phone. While it dialed, she shifted through the contents of the books. There wasn't much, folded letters, documents, neither of which she understood, but what she did understand were the photos. They were printed on some kind of glossy paper, which was strange, but the contents trumped even that.
Photos of more people, dressed in science-y looking outfits and posing for the camera. None of whom were Aquatic in nature.
There were more Strangers!?
She recognized her previous captor in a few of them, happier and healthier too, surrounded by other… whatever their species was. Rebecca was looking through them when the call finally got through.
"Uh, Rebecca, is that you? Why- why are you calling at this hour?"
"Three!" Rebecca all but shouted, trying to hold her energy down, "Listen, I'm in a lot of trouble right now, I need some help."
"Are you safe?"
"Kinda? I'm in over my head, Three. There are more Strangers."
Silence.
"Three?"
"...could you repeat that?"
"Please, just get me-"
The door behind Rebecca creaked open. A fully armored Stranger stood in the doorway, staring at her from behind her mask, a helmet mounted flashlight lighting her up.
The two stared at each other for but a moment, before the Stranger acted. The scythe was unsheathed, and the Stranger all but leapt at her.
Shellshellshellshellshell-
She had to say something. Anything. She had no time!
A quick inhale, and then-
"THREE, THEY KNOW ABOUT KAMA-"
WHAM!
Her world went black.
The whispers woke her up.
Sally's eyes shot open, her skin prickling from the icy air.
W-where was she?
The faded copper scent brought her back. She was still in the Lower Metro, still lost. Yet, something was off. An uneasy feeling in her gut, and a quiet prickling on the back of her neck confirmed it.
The quiet hum of the lights was gone.
She cautiously stood up, uncomfortable in the tense air. Nervously, she drew her Splattershot Jr, the cheap plastic doing little to comfort her shaky grip. There was an unfamiliar feeling in her third heart, one that she intuitively understood; something massive was close.
Sally leaned against the front wall, close to the door. She bit her lower lip, failing to force the tremors from her hands. This was beyond her.
She screwed her eyes shut, mumbling small nothings, trying to be anywhere but here.
Something was on the other side of the door. A silent slithering, both in the real world and in her mind. The world around her shifted as Sally fell to a knee, a hand clutching her head.
She… she could hear it…
Footsteps, heavy and metallic. Something huge, clambering its way through the halls beyond the door. The grinding of metal on concrete. Whatever it was… well. She could run from something tangible, but what came next wasn't something she could just run from.
A legion of silent voices followed behind the other thing outside, pressing themselves against her soul, her very being held in a vice grip. Mint flooded her taste, while tears crawled down her cheeks. Sally's hands pressed hard against her ears, trying in vain to block out the deafening noise.
They regurgitated madness, a clamor of unending voices screaming over each other. They spoke of raw feelings and memories, meshed into a horrific mass of insanity. She felt it all; all the rage, the fear, the sadness.
Memories that weren't her own flooded her mind. Or maybe they were hers? She didn't know. Couldn't figure out which was which.
Running, exhausted. Alarms.
The clicking of computers. Machines building machines.
A group of people in lab coats, faces obscured.
The sun. Clear blue skies.
Screaming.
Sally collapsed to the ground, spitting out her purple, ink-ish blood from her mouth.
She could barely move, she could barely breathe…
…
Suddenly, the pressure lessened. Sweet relief.
She coughed, rolling onto her back. Bit by bit, she could feel the oppressive presence lift up, easing off of her brain. As her soul uncrumpled itself from its balled-up state, she sat up, immediately regretting it.
Her whole body was sore beyond belief, as if she had been overstretched for hours on end. And her head hurt something fierce. Her fingers dug into the ground, desperately trying to center herself, fighting a war for her very being.
A fight she slowly won.
Sally blinked the confusion from her eyes, nausea threatening to win out against her will. Her mind still screamed in pain, her thoughts fuzzy and muddled, as if someone had jammed a bunch of cotton balls directly into her mind. Even in her messed-up state, fake memories dancing around in her head, her sense of self tried to put itself back together.
She was Sally Ashens, here to…
Her heart skipped a beat. Why couldn't she…
Here to… She was here to…
What was she here to do?
She looked down to her arms, finding nothing. Then her legs. Her shoulders. Only looking into her backpack was what re-centered her.
Here to help Dad.
Right, she was here for Dad.
…
Eventually, she had scrounged up enough courage to leave the small safe room, and it took every bit of remaining iron will in her to not flee back.
It was as if she had entered some bizarre, alternate reality. Every surface, once drab and dark, had been absolutely coated by some kind of… ink? Or… no, not ink. Sally recognized it as the same stuff she had seen around the Metro, the glowing, sickly green 'ink'.
Every inch of the walls, the sloped floor, even the ceiling dripped with the vile substance, blanketing the tunnel in its dim glow.
…what caused this?
Sally brought up her Splattershot Jr, and with several quick bursts, inked a path she could walk across. Regardless of what had happened here, she couldn't stay holed up forever. As such, she continued down the tunnel, laying down ink to form a path forward.
As it turned out, the mystery ink wasn't quite as permanent as Sally thought it would be.
Eventually, it began to just evaporate into the air, as if it had never coated the tunnels in the first place. She remembered learning about that in school, something about ink eating microbes in the air. Were they down here too?
Regardless, the 'trail' she had been walking along was gone now. Sally hadn't been following it, exactly, but it had been the only way forward; there had been a few other pathways, but they had been impossible to get through. They had all been cluttered by anomalies, fields that she would prefer not to navigate.
She didn't know how many of those anomaly clusters there were, but throwing rocks into them had only resulted in more geysers of fire, lightning, or the complete and utter removal of the thrown pebble from reality.
Yeah, she wasn't going to take that risk. Getting deleted from the world was not something she wanted to experience, at all.
On a stranger note, these same anomalies had completely vanished in this tunnel specifically. Or, at least she hadn't run into any yet.
It was a clear path forward, and she hated it. For this route to be relatively safe and constricted, it set her on edge. This place was ancient, and she couldn't help but think that it was alive, toying with her now like she was some kind of little Inkling-shaped toy.
Sally sighed; there was little to do but push forward. It more and more felt like she was in the intestines of some great beast, and not playing its games could very well end in her death.
Ugh. This sucked. She didn't like being… well, corralled like this.
On the other hand, did the Metro want to show her something? It might explain what she'd just found.
Or been led to, rather.
The tunnel she had been traversing fell into a semi-built state, as if it had been abandoned mid construction. And not officially, either; scaffolding, tools and materials were still scattered about, abandoned. Like all the workers had just up and left the job site, leaving all their equipment where they were.
Was this the end of the Lower Metro?
Maybe?
Sally continued onward, watching the walls slowly fade to a completely natural layer of rock. And not long into that tunnel…
She found herself entering into a colossal space, lit by a multitude of jury rigged flood lights positioned around the area. It was dominated by threadbare tents, precariously positioned around half-built structures, forming some kind of small shantytown, of sorts. And as Sally walked in further, she noticed it was deserted, empty. But, it didn't feel abandoned, not like the construction site.
This place felt lived in, it had a beat to it, as if a whole group had been living here. But now, there was no one left. Something happened here, and whatever it was had driven off the inhabitants of this place.
Or, if the broken ink tank she just walked past with any indication…
Something bad must've happened here.
Poking around didn't unearth anything too exciting, save for grimy, packaged food and what few possessions the previous inhabitants had owned. None of it was of any use, however, just sentimental scraps of a former life.
Another shattered ink tank here, a charger with its barrel bent to uselessness there, a pile of dirty clothing over there…
This was some kind of armed hobo camp, or, what was left of one, it seemed.
The camp was one thing, but there wasn't much that was useful to Sally here. Not anymore, at least. What really interested her, however, was a small side passage away from the camp, one that led to an underground river. It wasn't a large space, a bit cramped if she had anything to say about it, but it felt oddly peaceful. The camp probably got its water from here.
And maybe how they ended up in this place as well? How else could have people gotten down here, through the hell she had barely survived? Surely there were a few paths running along this river to the surface?
Before she could begin looking for a way up, however, something glinted in the dark as she swept her flashlight around, catching her eye. Closer inspection revealed a shape, blending in with the gray rocks around her.
Finally, she was able to get a good look at it, bringing her light to bear.
Sally gasped.
Before her laid a person, clad head to toe in a gray hazmat suit.
/ REWRITE A/N: /
Falk here, yet again.
It begins. The Metro arc.
The reason why we're even rewriting THE POLARIS PROJECT's first act in the first place.
With this chapter, we start a descent into a schizo nightmare funhouse world of technological and supernatural horrors, where our hapless new friend Sally Ashens and the strange hazmat guy she just found will have to go toe to toe with man-made horrors beyond our comprehension.
This 'arc' makes up the remaining 7 or so chapters of this fic, and these will be the single hardest parts of the rewrite that we'll have to do. The original versions of these chapters are serviceable, but they're a chaotic mess of POV shifts and weird esoteric concepts and God-knows-what else.
The statistics don't lie - readership nosedives once this arc gets into gear, and while that can't exactly be fixed per se, we hope that the updated version of this arc will at least be more tolerable to read than the original. Worst case scenario, at least it's over by chapter 20, and the second act will hopefully be completely normal and fully coherent.
Maybe, who knows. I don't. I also do, but that's spoilers, so I can't say anything. Instead, I'm going to hand this back over to Piston for whatever he has (or had) to say. Take care, and we hope to see you next chapter!
/ ORIGINAL A/N: /
It was never in the plans to kill him. Granted, I handled everything revolving around that poorly, apologies for that. It was not wise to pretend I actually killed him off. This fic's original question will be answered, that I can promise. Of course, I'm also being obtuse with this chapter too, but I promise they will be explained!
So,we've had the proper introductions of two new characters this chapter, the last, I promise! (hopefully) Sally is the brainchild of Ancient, whom I kinda adopted for this story. The plan is flexible, and the one we've come up with has proven to be much better than the previous version. The other, the human, was actually thought up last New Years. I swear her debut lining up with this New Years was a complete coincidence. We'll be learning more about them soon enough.
With that out of the way, I'd like to thank you all for sticking around to this point. I know I haven't been the best author in the world, or the most transparent, or someone who can make an actual plan, so it really means a lot to me. And so, we can finally begin the beginning of the end of what I've begun to refer to as the first arc. Everything has been leading up to what's to come next, and I hope you all enjoy it. It's time for things to finally pick up again.
Thank you for reading, as well as the reviews, and see next year!
