In a nightmare made flesh, an environment that didn't conform to normality, the mundane horror was what stood out.

Down in this deep dark, Sally had seen many odd sights, phenomena that tore reality at the seams. The abandoned camp behind her. Anomalies littering the hallways and tunnels. Her brush with that horrific teal ink and schizophrenia. The Metro itself.

And yet, this simple Inkling(?) remains trumped every one of them. She stood transfixed, eyes glued to the ghastly sight, to this effigy of mortality.

Finally, self-preservation instincts kicked in and shook her from her dazed state, forcing her legs back, away from the horror in front of her. Even as her feet froze up and she fell over, she shimmied backwards, flashlight erratically illuminating the space, until her back hit the cavern edge.

She sat there, breathing heavily, panic overwhelming her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, tears threatening to spill out. Sally, for possibly the dozenth time, cursed herself for wanting to come down here, into the Metro. She was very quickly beginning to think that this wasn't worth it, at all.

Eventually, the panic began to abate, a thin thread of determination reeling it back.

I-it was just a… body. A body.

What would her dad think of his daughter cowering at such a simple thing? Just down here alone, she had faced fractures of space-time, an unending labyrinth, and a body was what broke her?

She had seen her father excavate human ruins, she had seen their skeletons, how was this any different? Aside from a solid body, it would just be the soupy remains and whatever the poor Inkling had been wearing. It was dead, it couldn't hurt her.

Anger diffused through her limbs, driving away what little fear remained. Anger at this situation, anger at herself, anger at the world, it fueled her. She got up to her feet, shining her flashlight onto the body once more.

In a moment, her newfound anger fled, retreating at the sudden onslaught of uncertainty. But, that she could conquer.

Marshaling what little remained of her courage, she slowly stepped towards the body, her flashlight shakily trained on the head. She had watched plenty of zombie movies with her dad, and she was not gonna be one of those brain dead heroes. If there was any sudden movement from the corpse, Sally would be gone in a flash; after all, she totally thought she could outrun a zombie.

The thought did little to comfort her. It was one thing to watch this kinda scenario on the big screen, and it was another to actually live it. She should've been thankful that they were wearing that strange hazmat suit; she didn't have to see any of the liquid body, nor smell that dead body smell everything had, but it only heightened her paranoia. Could there be something else inside of it?

Nothing good, probably. Little of anything ordinary could thrive down here, and someone wearing a hazmat suit couldn't be a good sign. If their presence and the gear they wore was a bad sign, she knew the implications of it were so much worse.

Sally wasn't a fool; she knew what a government agent was. Her dad always had been fighting against the suits, whether it was getting the rights to a dig site, or in more recent days, keeping his research afloat, bypassing the Institute to get funding right from the source. Was this person sent by some government firm?

It was the only explanation that made sense to her. Because, really, there was no way that the government didn't know about this place. Why else would the Statue have been guarded so fiercely, while simultaneously giving diddly squat information to the public? This was some kind of conspiracy, the kind her dad had always talked about.

She would take a dead government spook versus a monster any day of the week.

"Now, what do you have on you…?" Sally mumbled, her curiosity getting the better of her. This wasn't some sort of monster thrown at her by the Metro, just a dead government agent. And even if the Metro had twisted it, they were still dead. It still wasn't a pleasant thought, but one she could work with. And who knew? What they had on them could prove useful.

Sally knelt down next to the body, looking it over with a critical eye. Were there any patches or markings she could try to identify?

The suit had a series of markings on it at first glance; white text in a language she couldn't recognize running down the left leg, as well as a little square logo on the chest just below the neck. A series of faintly glowing green lights were on the shoulders and thighs, seemingly wedged into little seams on the suit itself. However, beyond that, there was nothing that served to indicate who owned this suit.

Now, Sally figured she could roll them over on their back, to see if they had anything there, but the thought of touching a corpse wasn't exactly appealing to her. The thought of feeling all the dead corpse fluid inside was just… eugh! But! The backpack they were wearing, however? Fair game.

…if she could get it off.

For some reason, the backpack seemed to be integrated directly into the hazmat suit, the straps slinking underneath another layer of plastic-y covering. Great for keeping it on, she supposed, but getting it off was another story entirely. However she was going to do it, it was going to suck.

Roll the dead guy over it is then, she reluctantly decided.

Sally tugged on the straps of the backpack, trying to avoid touching the body itself as much as possible. To her shock, she encountered solid resistance, something liquid couldn't provide. She let go of the straps in shock, staggering back away from the body a bit. Was… the body mummified somehow? By the Metro, perhaps?

What else could it be? This was clearly an Inkling, and no other species had a similar body type to this one, save for the Octoling. It had to be the Metro keeping the body solid, somehow.

The explanation was enough to satisfy her, so she got back to work. It was slowly working, as she managed to get the body on its side. It was really stupidly heavy for a body, but Sally wasn't exactly somebody who handled bodies on a daily basis or anything. How was she supposed to know?

Gritting her teeth, Sally pulled as hard as she could. Just one more good tug to get the body face-down, and the contents of that weird bag were hers-

The body shifted.

Sally froze. Her heart leapt to her throat, but she tried to reassure herself. It was dead, it was just a body!

No sooner had she finished the thought, the body moved this time, limbs awkwardly splaying outwards in a sudden movement. It caught her off guard, knocking her off of her feet, onto the body.

She was on top of it.

Sally shrieked, her own body flooding with fire and adrenaline. With strength she didn't realize she possessed, she threw herself off the body, rolling across the stony floor. No pain registered in her mind, just raw information. The body was moving, it was alive, and it was going to kill her.

It was going to kill her. It was going to kill her!

IT WAS GOING TO KILL HER!

Sally finished her roll, getting back onto her feet in one smooth motion. Without waiting, she ran for the tunnel exit, feet pounding against stone. Purely on instinct, she turned back for a moment, flashlight weakly illuminating the sight behind her.

It was only for a moment, but what she saw ingrained itself in her brain.

The body was staggering to its feet, gait unsteady. The mask concealing its face leered back, empty lenses staring into her soul.

Sally's stomach flipped, but she stayed her course. No conscious thought split through her skull, subconscious instinct blocking it completely. Get away, you can run faster than a zombie!

The tunnel passed by in a blur. She tripped over an errant construction thing, but scrambled to her feet in an instant, not even feeling the pain. Nothing would stop her. Not when there was a scary-as-absolute-SHELL zombie probably chasing after her!

And yet, it could never be that simple. As she gained ground on the zombie, a familiar pressure was slowly mounting in her skull, pushing down on her brain.

No! Not now!

A headache was quickly blossoming, growing worse and worse by the minute. Her free hand went up to massage her head, Sally grunting at the mental pain. Before she could register it, she'd smashed into what felt like a metal cart, crashing to the half-finished concrete floor underneath.

This time, she felt it. The adrenaline in her system was being sapped by the headache, her movements quickly growing sluggish. As she picked herself up, she looked ahead. Ahead of her, at the mouth of the tunnel, an ethereal, teal glow was coalescing, growing brighter and brighter. And as it did so, she could feel the pressure in her head grow unbearable.

A weight was forming on top of her, growing heavier and heavier by the second. She tried to force herself up, but the strength in her body was quickly failing.

Her head sagged to the ground, something pressing her consciousness into fine paste.

Towers lining the coast. Weapons of last resort.

A trail, snaking through the woods. Escape route.

A dining room, family all around.

A last meal, before the waves took them all away.

Sally couldn't quite remember when the pressure on her consciousness lessened. Everything felt… fuzzy, and minty.

There had been a trail deep in the woods, a boy? Her brother? Did she have one of those? A dining room? How long had she been standing there? And why did she feel so constricted?

A gnawing pain in her skull was slowly growing, slashing the shifting scenery around her.

Sally violently woke up, practically coughing up a lung. She winced, her eyes clenched shut at the violent pain in her head. There was something in there, squirming about. Something that was losing its grip, being dragged out of her mind.

And as the pain and pressure faded, her wits slowly returned.

Did… that glow again? What was it?

Why did it feel like she was being held? There was a sensation of movement, a staggered, yet rhythmic gait, and ragged, muffled breathing coming from above her.

Sally should've thrashed out, fear overwhelming her rational part of her mind, but… she didn't. Her mind felt calm and placid, save for the pain. That alone should have been a cause of concern, yet… she didn't particularly care. Not at the sensation of being held, not at the breathing, not even when she cracked her eyes open, and in the dark, see the mask of the government spook.

And the mask was staring right back at her.

A dull glimmer of emotion broke through her unnatural calm, and as they walked further down the tunnel, the cracks grew. Terror sprung forth, first a trickle, but growing in ferocity, twisting her face into a grimace.

And just like that, the person put her down. Not gently, but quickly, and onto her feet. Sally's knees buckled under her, and onto them she fell. The shock was enough to displace the terror, replacing it with surprise. And while she dealt with the emotional whiplash, the person turned around, keeping an eye on the tunnel behind them.

Sally, after a moment, followed their gaze. She could just barely make out the glow, and it was slowly fading.

Only when it had fully dispersed did they look back down at her, and after a long moment, offer a hand. Without thinking, Sally took it, and was pulled back to her feet.

With every ounce of courage she had, she tried to speak.

"W-who… Who are you?" She wanted to ask more, but the remaining words died in her throat.

For a moment, they stared, seemingly uncomprehending. Then, they shrugged, and turned back to continue up the tunnel.

What the shell was this!?

Her emotions waged a Turf War with themselves in her head, threatening to rip her apart. What was real, what wasn't? Why did that glow give her psychosis? What was the deal with the government spook? Were they just as crazy as she felt?

Why were they down here? Why was this place so mind-bendingly INSANE!? WHY DID SHE COME DOWN HERE?!

Sally broke.

She fell to the ground, quietly sobbing into her shirt. Every emotion and thought was forged into her tears, leached out of her overburdened mind. It was a raw, primal flood that sapped her core, yet… helped. It wiped her mind, eased her of her weary burden, even if it was for a little bit.

The flow slowly trickled to nothingness, leaving behind little in her emotional reservoir. It was exhausting, but in a way, relieving. An unfelt knot in her torso had unfurled.

At this point, Sally was beginning to notice a pattern.

Whenever she had those schizophrenic fits, the vile ink always could be found nearby. Nearby, in this case, being surprisingly far into the tunnel. Whatever was leaving it must have gotten bored, thankfully. She did not enjoy the thought of being cornered back here.

Wiping the last of the tears from her face, Sally got back up. She wanted to rest and sleep, but this place was far from safe. For now, she needed to grit her teeth and keep going. Unfortunately, the only way out was the way the Spook (as she'd decided to officially name them) had gone.

Not that it would be necessarily bad, just that… she would prefer not to run into them again. Even if they weren't a threat, something about them made her skin crawl. In a way, they fit in well down here. Then again, the government was an eldritch abomination, she shouldn't be too surprised.

Reluctantly, she made her way up the tunnel. There was no time like the present, and like her dad always said, fortune favored the bold, in part because the government had yet to find a way to tax it.

She strode forward, Splattershot Jr in hand, spraying her own ink over it to walk across. Before it was covered by her purple ink, she spotted bootprints imprinted into the substance. Did that hazard suit protect against the stuff? Her father always claimed the government kept the good technology for themselves, that was probably it. Still, with no ink trail from the Spook to avoid, she would need to be more careful.

Why couldn't they leave an ink trail like she did? Or, like whatever coated the tunnel did? It was weird, yeah, but it gave her signs that she could avoid.

Not that there was much way to avoid them, she thought. It was all just long subway tunnels down here, with little deviation and plenty of danger. It would make this ink more useful.

There was so much so close to her. She swore, it was watching her.

Sally had never been one to believe in magic or new age trash, but she was beginning to reconsider her stance. The ink had some bad juju, something she couldn't understand. The sooner she was out of here, the better.

Which didn't take too long, thankfully. The ink hadn't even evaporated by the time Sally made it back to the abandoned hobo camp, though, with such an open space, the ink told a story of its own. Rather than the entire room being coated, a large trail, about maybe three or four meters in width, had been smeared across the floor, leading away from the tunnel she left into a different exit.

It was… an uncomfortable thought.

One that got quickly dashed by movement from inside the camp. Who else would it be but the Spook? They were hard to make out in the dim lighting of the place, but their distinct shape was unmistakable, no doubt wandering about looking for supplies or information. Not that Sally expected them to find much.

But then, why would they be doing so? If they were back in that tunnel, they would have needed to pass through here? Why would they be searching through it again, as if they had never seen it?

Carefully, Sally crept back into the tunnel's entrance, taking care not to step into the corrupted ink. If at all possible, she wanted to avoid capturing the Spook's attention, so she didn't use her Splattershot Jr, and for now, she would be content to wait them out.

Crouching against a far wall, Sally kept low, slowly inching back.

She stopped soon after, however. She squinted her eyes, looking closer. Sally could see something swimming in the ink trail within the cavern, slight ripples rapidly moving through the ink. In the deathly silence of the cavern, they echoed without regard for subterfuge. Sally gasped, stepping back in surprise…

…right into a wall covered by vile teal ink.

Sally's back sunk into it, as if she had fallen into a soft patch of snow. Unlike snow, it was gooey and burnt like fire.

Instinctively, she shouted in pain, jerking forward. But, the damage had already been done. From her spot in the tunnel, she saw the Spook's head shoot up, almost immediately zeroing in on her position. Her hand clamped over her mouth, her back forgotten.

Instincts taking over, she transformed into her squid form, diving into her own ink. Internally, she sighed as the burning feeling dissipated, but her tension was still high, as she could see the Spook approaching, walking on the vile ink as if it weren't there.

Only then did the ripples make themselves known again. The Spook stopped in their tracks, confused by the slick sound of something moving through the ink. But, it was too late for them.

The ripples reached their feet, then disappeared. For a moment, everything was still.

A jaw of diseased, flabby flesh exploded out of the ink, closing around the Spook in one, fluid motion. For a second, Sally saw the thing's eyes, animalistic and tinged with insanity.

It was looking right at her.

Only then did it dive back into the ink, as if it and the Spook had never existed. The massive ripples the beast left behind then began to wave their way towards her.

She should have moved immediately, should have retreated to a better location. But, she was rooted in the ink, frozen like a fish in the headlights. She barely did any Turf Wars, and never participated in one of Mr. Grizz's Salmon Runs. She lacked the battle instincts, plain and simple.

The ripples shot closer and closer, reaching her in what felt like a heartbeat. Just as it reached the tunnel, the monster leapt out of the ink, right at Sally. She shrieked, involuntarily reverting to her humanoid form.

It skidded on her ink, sliding right into the tunnel. Or, tried to. The head made it into the tunnel, but its sides caught in the narrow tunnel, causing it to become stuck. It was mere feet from her, thrashing and shrieking its raw fury. Sally could feel a familiar pressure growing in her mind, pushing her down, blinding her senses. It felt weaker, somehow.

Sally shouted, pushing against the pressure, forcing it out of her mind. Her Splattershot raised on its own accord, and she pulled the trigger.

She forced her eyes, opening, still shouting all the while, shouting down the monstrosity in front of her. Her ink was coating its face, burning the infected flesh, covering it, suppressing it.

The beast shrieked, thrashing wildly away, popping out of the tunnel as it tried to shake off her ink. Without thinking, Sally followed suit, running into the cave proper, laying down an area of her own ink, her own turf. The pressure was still there, but dull and blunt. She could deal with it.

Her fear was giving way to anger and adrenaline, sharpening her mind, blocking out the malignant influence.

She could… she could beat this thing.

And as she saw the ripples converge on her position again, she didn't hesitate. She shot her Splattershot Jr at the oncoming monster. It fought against her ink, slowing down as it lost momentum. It overwrote her ink, but with her furious volley as an answer, it couldn't keep up.

Submerged entirely in her ink, it was forced to the surface, and Sally finally got a good look at the creature.

She may never have worked for Mr. Grizz, but she knew plenty about the Salmonid species. It was some kind of Maw, except warped and twisted by the Metro. Its normally pink flesh was teal and devastated by decay and disease, some parts outright replaced by the same glowing, vile ink, whispering into her soul.

It was larger, too, easily able to swallow a small car.

Sally faltered at the sheer scale, but re-asserted herself, spraying at the Maw with everything she had.

Abruptly, her gun stopped spewing ink, instead making a pathetic clicking noise when she pulled the trigger. Sally's heart froze; she was out. She dove back into the ink to replenish her supply, but the momentary lapse in fire was enough. The Maw shook off the ink, screaming in pain all the while. With a horrific screech, it sprayed the contents of its stomach everywhere, corrupted teal ink splattering onto everything around it.

Sally desperately dodged the vomit, swimming back up her own ink trail into the tunnel.

Not a moment later, it dove down into its bile, disappearing from sight. Sally could see the ripples its retreat left behind, slowly wavering away into nothing

It was…

It was gone.

Sally eventually resurfaced, her knees shaky. She almost threw up from the smell of stomach acid, but marshaled her self control at the last minute.

The damage from the acidic puke was quite obvious. Almost everything in the cavern had been covered in the bile, and was slowly dissolving the standing structures into nothing but soupy rubble. She had barely gotten out in time, having retreated to the small tunnel to weather the attack.

What stood out, however, was the Spook. They were lying near where the Maw had vanished, somehow clean of vomit despite being all but bathed in the stuff. They were easy enough to pick out; the one thing that was gray, rather than glowing teal. Already, they were slowly stumbling back to their feet, knees as shaky as her own.

They looked around, confused and dazed at the destruction. Noticing her standing there, they pointed at her, then gestured to the whole cavern, muttering something she couldn't make out past their mask's muffling nature.

She was being asked something. 'Did you do this?' most likely? We'll go with that.

"Yeah, I…" She froze for a moment, a stupid grin growing on her face, "I… I did this." She began to giggle quietly, despite her attempts to stifle it.

The Spook nodded, a quiet, raspy laugh coming from them as well. After a moment of thought, they walked closer to her, not minding the bile they stepped through. As they did so, they spoke something of their own, something she couldn't understand at all.

They clapped as they walked, the material on their hands muffling the sound, but it gave Sally a sense of victory, of triumph, as it echoed throughout the cavern.

She did this. She did this.

They reached her after a minute, standing in front of her. They were distinctively less threatening now, doubly so when they extended a hand to her.

It didn't smell of anything, not even the bile.

She took the hand, shaking it.


Far above, back on the surface, Agent Four stared into a smoldering cave, Hero Shot at the ready.

The smoke had been visible for miles, a thin trail of black smoke ominously rising up from the forests north of Inkopolis. The sight certainly didn't do her morning any favors, considering how poorly it'd been going so far up to this point.

For one, she had been woken up at four in the morning, her phone blasting Ink Me Up at an uncodly volume; her ringtone for Agents One and Two. A phone call at night was never good. It wasn't good when she got the call about her grandpa dying, nor when they got the news that Eight had gone missing.

"WAKE UP, THE WITNESS HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED!"

It was Callie, her shrill voice shrieking from the speaker.

Certainly, it was… one way to wake up. In her drowsy state the words didn't quite register to her. Her clock stated that it was three-thirty in the morning.

"W-wuzza?" she had slurred.

Callie sighed, but repeated, "The Octoling got kidnapped!"

Adrenaline slapped her squarely on the cheek.

"What!?"

"Me and Three are already on our way over. We're like, ten minutes out. Be ready by then, 'kay?"

With the last of her sleep thoroughly banished, Four feverishly flew around her apartment, digging through grocery bags and her school books in her closet to find her Hero Equipment. She threw it all on, then a pair of sweatpants and a sweatshirt for good measure. Partially for warmth, partially to conceal the armor.

Four was out of her apartment by the eight minute mark, in the lobby by the ninth, and out into the cool dark of the early morning by the tenth. The street was dark and deserted, unlike the hustle and bustle it usually experienced at noon. She knew about the old stereotype of her species being late risers, but to this extent?

The only sign of life were the street lamps with their cold glow, and of course, the idling car parked down the street. Callie's car, to be specific. A small bit of apprehension knotted her stomach; she had been hoping to not see it for a while.

Sighing, she approached and knocked on the driver side window. Callie nodded, then unlocked the car doors. Four took a seat in the back.

It was warm in the car, almost uncomfortably so. While Callie was behind the wheel, Three was in the passenger seat, crutches awkwardly held against her. As soon as Four was situated, Callie started driving.

"So…" Four said, buckling herself in. "What exactly are we looking at?"

"About two hours ago, Rebecca called me. She was freaking out, babbling like some kinda lunatic. Then, the line cut abruptly. We're going out to where the cell towers say she was when she called." Three answered, her tone suspiciously neutral.

Four slowly nodded, staring out the window as the scenery flew by. Nobody but them was out at this hour. The city this early in the day was just a blur of motion and muted colors, with nothing else interesting to see. A good canvas to digest Three's statement on.

Four knew the girl's tone quite well; she was hiding something. Three, for all her attempts to stay perfectly serious on the job, wasn't quite the freaky glowy-eye'd robot she wanted to come off as. This actual neutrality was a conscious effort on her part.

"Avanna, what did she really say?" she said, fixing Three in one of her patented Stares.

Three didn't reply, instead staring out the window, eyes flickering slightly as she bit her lip.

"A Stranger took Rebecca." Callie said, her voice strained. "Well, what Three believes to be one."

Initially, Four didn't understand. A stranger took Rebecca, who else would? Someone she knew?

Then, she understood. A spike of fear pierced her heart.

"I'm sorry, what?"

"Now, we're not entirely su-" Callie started, but Four cut her off.

"Like shell you're not sure!" Four all but shouted, the revelation overriding her inhibitions and logic. "What else would take her!?"

Four could still remember the Stranger they had encountered at the Dome. That one had been a nightmare to deal with, and now, there were more of them!? How the shell did Rebecca get kidnapped by one? She saw the other one die, nothing could come back from that fall!

The more she thought about it, the more the pieces fit together. Aside from the Agents, Rebecca was the only one who they knew had witnessed a Stranger, and if there were more than a single Stranger, it stood to reason that they would be in contact with each other. Some sort of alien paramilitary organization, perhaps?

Were they even aliens? Four couldn't tell, and it terrified her. What even were Strangers?

Were they trying to silence Rebecca, study her?

The knowledge of another Stranger being involved thoroughly sapped any nervous energy she had, leaving a numb sense of quiet terror in its place.

It was an odd thing to stew over, but distracted her as the city gave way to the countryside. Four barely paid attention to the passing scenery, painted fiery orange from the early morning. A small portion of her subconscious filed it away as a bad omen.

What couldn't be ignored was the mission. Rebecca had been kidnapped by a Stranger, and for all they knew, might already be dead. The words sounded like some sort of nightmare, as if she were dreaming, and even now, everything felt surreal. She shouldn't be up at this hour, going on a mission like this. Not even during her stint in Octo Canyon had things gone this off the rails.

"One?"

"Yeah?"

Four scratched the back of her head, feeling slightly awkward, "This whole Stranger business… what does it mean for us?"

"For the mission, you mean?" Callie asked.

"Uh… sure."

Three sat up slightly, butting into the conversation. "Sheldon and I have been working on some countermeasures in the unlikely event we run into another Stranger… amongst other reasons." She broke eye contact, looking down at her feet.

"What Three means," Callie interjected, "is that she and Sheldon rigged up a kind of portable respawner, which is in the trunk right now. 'Case you run into trouble, it won't be the end of the world."

"...that's it?" Four couldn't keep the disappointment from her voice. "Don't you have something more…? I mean…" She faltered as she thought over her question. "You guys gotta have some kind of anti-Stranger weapon, at this point."

"It's only been a few days, we're working on it." Three replied, her voice tinged with annoyance. "You try dealing with magnetic sciencey squit and deciphering alien technology."

"Oh, right, how is that going, anyways?" Four hadn't exactly… well, done much after the Dome mission. She had more or less puttered around her apartment, not doing much. Her motivation had been sapped, for lack of a better term. She had been thinking about what had happened back at the Dome. It had broken something in her. What, she wasn't sure.

"Sheldon already has a few ideas from what he's seen," Three replied, "I can't really say more than that. It's just a lot of energy and magnets."

"Uh…. alright," Four banished the thought, "While we're on the subject, how are we gonna do this? The mission itself, I mean."

Callie bit her lip. "We're gonna drop you off close to where the call came from, and from there, see what you can find."

"There's no telling what's out there, so the respawner is there in case things go pear-shaped." Three finished. "So, be careful."

"And… what if things go wrong?"

"You'll be linked up to the Respawner. Callie and I will be driving around, and if you get splatted, we'll be getting out of here." Three said. "You'll be going alone to minimize our footprint here."

"I see…" Four laid back, trying to steady her nerves. She closed her eyes, "Just… let me know when we get there."

Of course, she bitterly reflected, there had been little reason for her nerves. It hadn't taken much walking from the drop point to see the smoke, and from there, to find the burning cave. Thankfully, the fire was well contained, but still, why was there a fire in the first place?

Well, obviously, it was a result of this new Stranger, but, again, why the fire?

It did remind her of one of the pictures that One and Two had shown her before the Dome mission, of someone walking out of the burning doorway. A Stranger, clearly. Did they have a penchant for this type of thing?

She had called it in, of course, but Callie and Three had just as much of a clue as she did. Not much, unfortunately. With the Stranger seemingly long gone, the only thing they could all do was sit and poke around to see if they left anything - or anyone - behind.

Not that Four expected much else. The Stranger had to know that Rebecca's call would be answered, and as such had made themself scarce before backup would arrive. Which… might explain the fire, actually.

Could this have been their hideout? It was a bit far away from Inkopolis, yet not too far to walk. Not to mention, almost no one would come around these parts. And if the Stranger's cover had been blown, could they have destroyed their little hidey-hole to cover their tracks? It wasn't a happy thought. How many Strangers were holed up in these hills, just waiting to strike?

It was… not something she wanted to consider right now, especially while she was in their potential, prime territory. How many could be in the trees, watching her every move, her head lined up in a charger scope? Or, what kind of spyware could they have? Was anywhere safe?

This was a lost cause. She was too exposed out here.

Four withdrew the radio from her belt. "One, it's Four. I can't find anything else. Let's call it a wash and get out of here."

"Copy that. We'll get back on the road we dropped you off on. Meet us there?" Callie said, voice crackling through the radio.

Four began walking, radio still held to her ear. "Yeah. I'm on my way. Out."

She took one last look at the burning mess, felt the radiant heat on her face.

Dink!

A small rock hit her shoulder.

Four whipped around, Hero Shot immediately shouldered as she dropped to a crouch at the same moment. In a frenzy, she scanned the treeline looking for any threat. Seeing none, her stance softened.

Wait… is that?

Fourr almost didn't see her at first, but Rebecca was at the edge of the treeline. Though, not exactly in the best of shape. She was quite bruised and bloodied, her body armor cracked and scratched up in multiple places. Fearful tears were running down her face.

"Y-you came…?"


"A-after she saw me with the phone you gave me, I… can't really remember what happened after that. Just… me waking up… I guess?"

Even now, Rebecca felt physically ill, a kind of raw weariness that permeated every part of her. An uncomfortable heat resided as well; probably a cold. The medicines she'd taken and the bandages wrapped around her arm and leg wounds helped, but not much. They amounted to little more than clean clothes on a dirty body.

She wanted to rest, to recover from her ordeal, but the wispy desire was wiped out by the iron in her heart; she had seen behind the mask. She wouldn't, she couldn't rest until the Agents knew what she had seen, to prevent another tragedy like what had happened at the Dome.

It was for this reason she was at a small, hidden home at the Octo Valley, rattling off everything she could remember, rather than asleep or recovering. The Agents had insisted she do rest first, but Rebecca refused. They needed to know as soon as possible.

"I… she was watching you, Four." she said, shakily.

Rebecca remembered what had happened with a delirious clarity. She and the Stranger had been just out of sight of Four, who had been examining the burning cave. She had seen the Stranger light the fire earlier, having shot several bursts of white hot matter into the cave from her weapon. Rebecca was fairly certain that the Stranger had waited until Rebecca was conscious to do so.

An intimidation attempt, perhaps, seeing as the same weapon was soon aimed squarely at the back of her head.

Only when Agent Four was about to leave did the Stranger act. She had kicked Rebecca out into the clearing, then thrown a rock at the Agent.

And just like that, she had vanished.

In a way, Rebecca was glad that she was still in shock about what had happened. It still held a dreamlike quality, one that made her question if it had happened at all. It let her deliver what she had learned in a dull, monotone voice, rather than one wracked with sobs.

"She let me go for a reason, so… just take what I said with a grain of salt." Rebecca said, finally finishing her tale. Sighing, she leaned back on her chair, hands coming to soothe her face.

She looked across the small table to the four Agents, and an elderly Inkling wearing tattered rags and an old, military hat. Despite his small and demure frame, he emanated a steely resolve, one that was infectious and helped put her at ease. Agent Two was typing away at a laptop, notepad and pen beside her.

Behind them, she could see the Valley proper, bathed in the early evening light. It was oddly nostalgic.

"So… any questions?" Rebecca weakly clapped her hands, trying to pep herself up. It didn't work.

Three was the first to speak, not that Rebecca expected anything less. She had been as tense as a whipcord while Rebecca recounted what had happened, hanging onto every word she said. Were the situation less grim, she would've enjoyed it much more. There was something about engrossing Three in the story that she liked.

"What does she know about Kamabo?" Three practically blurted out, those weird glowing eyes of hers flickering again. She stumbled slightly over 'she', the word rolling awkwardly off her tongue. "Do you think it's just some kind of cover or red herring?"

Rebecca bit on her inner cheek, thinking.

"I… couldn't tell you, honestly," She admitted, "Though, I think she knows what Kamabo is, or, what the stories are, at least. I think she was genuine, if nothing else."

"What do you know about Kamabo, anyways?" she quickly added. Rebecca had no doubt the Agents knew about it, but to what extent?

Three, instead of answering immediately, made direct eye contact with Rebecca, who squirmed slightly.

"It's real, and it is Hell."

Inwardly, Rebecca shuddered.

Four butted in, adding, "Well, technically, Kamabo doesn't exist as a corporate entity anymore, but the Deepsea Metro's still around."

Corporate entity?

"Nevermind that." Agent Two said, noticing her confusion. "The point being, and without getting into details, a Stranger showing an interest in Kamabo is very, very, bad news. Even if it's some kind of ruse, this could be serious."

"Aye." The older Inkling spoke, hand running through his beard. "The Metro isn't nearly as bad as my Agents make it out to be, but there are some things that are best left buried there."

"...Like?"

He waved a dismissive hand. "Sorry lassie, but that information is on a need-to-know basis."

"I see…" It was disconcerting, but Rebecca pushed it out of mind for now. Kamabo, while a serious topic, was not the point right now. Though, she made a mental note to inquire more later. Granted, as long as it didn't drag her back into this quagmire; she just wanted this all to be over.

"Aside from that…" Agent One started, "you keep referring to the Stranger as a 'she.' Why is that?"

Rebecca blinked, "Oh… right," Only now did it occur to her that she had left out a major detail, "Well… I may have seen her face. And head. And body."

A stunned silence overtook everyone, a collective shock written on her audience's faces. Rebecca couldn't help but enjoy it; she had caused that. Engrossing the enemies of her people, what a story to tell.

"They're really, really strange looking." she continued. "Like, they look a lot like us, but at the same time, not really? It's… hard to describe. I could try drawing it, if you wanted, if you don't mind me borrowing a pen and paper."

Wordlessly, Agent Two ripped a paper from her notebook, then handed it and a pen to her. Just as she took them, the questions exploded forth.

"Are you sure you saw them correctly!?"

"Why did she let you leave then?"

The torrential flood of questions nearly bowled her over. Despite that, Three, Two, and the Captain stayed silent, favoring to look at each other, an unspoken conversation carried between the two. She couldn't help but notice that the two looked… concerned.

She didn't like it.

A verdict between the two was reached.

"Kids!" The older Inkling yelped. "Let the lass be, let her draw." His tone left no argument, shutting down the questions in an instant.

It was surprisingly awkward to draw in silence, especially with the rapt attention of the Agents on her. Her mediocre skill didn't help either, but it didn't need to be perfect, just… good enough.

No eye rings around the eyes… That was easy enough, but it just… looked strange without them. The proportions she drew were all off.

Thin, wispy hair instead of tentacles… Several quick pen strokes emulated them quite well.

Rounded ears… just, rounded ears, nothing to it. The shape was difficult to get right, though.

"So… how does this look?"

Rather than receive an answer, Rebecca was given another dose of tense silence. The drawing was horrible, yeah, but was that reception deserved?

After a long moment, the older Inkling spoke, addressing Agent Two.

"Dear, would you pull up a picture of the statue?"

"But, wouldn't that-"

"Do it, we need to be sure."

Reluctantly, Agent Two began typing into her computer, and after a moment, turned her computer screen so that Rebecca could see. A picture file was open; a large, almost marble statue jutting from the ocean surface. A torso and head, heavily damaged and sagging off center, a mess of electronic guts spewing from the mouth.

"If you would, take a look at this." The older Inkling said. "Does it look familiar, by any chance?"

"I don't think so-" Rebecca hesitantly said, only to freeze as realization hit her.

He wasn't referring to the statue itself, but its form.

It was the face of a Stranger. Albeit, a weathered and destroyed one, but the form was unmistakable.

"H-how- what is this?" Her confusion contrasted sharply with the Agents, whose faces had gone pale.

The old man sighed, almost sadly, before looking up at her with determination. "Tell me, lass." he began. "Did the DJ tell any of you about humanity?"


He didn't know where the hell he was.

Why he was. Who he was.

What he was doing.

God, everything hurt. Everything that wasn't hurting was trying to talk to him, voices at the edges of his mind and hearing, and he didn't want any of it. He ain't buying what these people were selling.

He was going nuts. Off his goddamn rocker. The crazy train's just fucking derailed.

There… there wasn't any anchor for him to grab onto. Not even the pseudo girl who saved him from that freak of nature back there at the shanty town.

How'd he even survive that fall? They shot him, didn't they? Last man standing, shot in the back and dropped down a hole. He should be dead.

Can't worry about that now. They're watching.

Thousands of eyes. Cameras. Antennae. Sensors. He didn't know. All he knew was that they were all trained on them. On him.

Voices whispered in the dark. In his ears. In his mind.

Nothing he could do about it.

Only one option for them. Keep moving. Keep moving forward. Get anywhere but here.

They were going to get outta this one alive.

Any means necessary.

YOUR LIFE, IN MY HANDS

A PAWN IN FATE'S GRAND DESIGN

MY VICTORY, SWEET


/ REWRITE A/N: /

Falk's back, back again! We've arrived. Metro arc time.

So, the content of the Metro has two major problems.

One, it's confusing as fuck. That's the point of it, yeah, but the execution was just as confusing as the Metro itself. If you read the original version of this chapter, you may notice the 'structure' of it being massively shuffled around. POV shifts are being toned down massively, in favor of longer-form sections that should hopefully be easier to keep up with.

Two, it got rushed. What was really paced and made out to be the overarching story of THE POLARIS PROJECT ended up being massively cut to be over by chapter 20. We all got sick and tired of trying to slog through it, so we put the hard cutoff at 20. Now, notice we're on chapter 13.

Lots of stuff's going to get moved around in order to improve the pacing of this arc as well as tone down all the weird esoteric stuff you're about to experience over the next few chapters. The plot events will remain identical, goofy (IMHO) decisions and all, but hopefully our rewrite grind will make what you're about to read much more engaging and interesting, as well as less of a total slog to get through.

With that, it's over to either 2023 or 2021 Piston, whichever comes first. He's started adding his own A/Ns to chapters after mine, so I'm just going to keep repeating that last line until I'm no longer writing A/Ns. Gotta be all modular n' shit, y'know?

Speaking of modular, that final little cheesy haiku thing was 99% AI generated. I know we all hate the machines here, but it's a stylistic choice on our part: you'll see why soon enough.

I hope you're having a good day, and on behalf of THE POLARIS PROJECT's writing crew, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Hope to see you in the next one!

/ ORIGINAL A/N: /

The truth has finally been revealed to the Agent, and they seem to be taking it surprisingly well, all things considered. Imagine the reaction a human militia would have if they discovered aliens existed, after all; absolute pandemonium, and probably the breaking of a few laws. What the Agents do with this information, well, you'll have to wait and see.

Aside from that, it's time to bring the Human back into the story proper. The pieces have been properly set, and we can continue his journey through this dark hour.

Aside from that, I've been doing some thinking, and perhaps it's time to try another experiment, like this story originally was. I've created a simple Discord server for this story, as a kind of place to hang out and talk. The invite code is qCMxkGzzBg, and I hope to see you there!

Again, I apologize for how long it took to get this chapter out, life has been quite busy as of late.

Thanks for reading, feel free to leave a review, and see you next time!