Chapter 3: Shakedown

The Next Morning

It was in his own nice, medium-sized, one-bedroom apartment that Lieutenant Johnson was stepping out of the bathroom and into his bedroom, slipping on the white button-up shirt that was to go under his police coat. The time was barely after 6:30 AM as he got his shirt buttoned up and then grabbed his dark-brown tie from the nearby dresser drawer. He was just in the process of wrapping it around his neck, when all of a sudden, someone stepped up from behind him and grabbed it.

"Hmmm, it's so earrrly…" The bare-naked Inkling woman behind him, with healthy white skin and long, light blue, quite messy bedhead hair, pulled the tie from his grasp and hugged him from behind.

Johnson chuckled. "You're not gonna let me get dressed?"

"You're not gonna give me ten more minutes in bed?" She kissed his neck.

He turned toward her and took the tie back. "Those ten minutes are precious, because if I push it, I'll be late, and Hertz will bite my head off again."

She frowned, putting her hands on his chest. "Why do you always gotta come at me with that 'job comes first' shit?"

"Because it's true?"

She then reached up to help straighten his shirt collar. "'Ten precious minutes' to get to work… when are you gonna put ten minutes aside to discuss wedding plans?"

"Stop trying to seduce me first and we'll get around to it." He pecked her lips.

"Mm. Hard not to, you're out so much that you leave too much to fantasy." She kissed him fully on the lips.

He tenderly returned it, putting her hands on her hips.

As they broke off, she moved her hand to look at the engagement ring that was still placed firmly on her right ring finger. "…It's been almost a year, Grant."

He nodded. "I know."

As she rubbed around his torso, she took the tie back from him and wrapped it around his collar. "And if I recall correctly… I agreed to marry Grant Johnson, not… faceless police Lieutenant number 6."

"They're one and the same, aren't they?"

"...Guess I just wish there was more of the former and less of the latter." She got the tie all tied up, tightened, and straightened. "But I also guess this is what I signed up for."

He held her close and looked her in the eye, uncaring of her bedhead hair. "There's an important case going on right now… and as soon as it's over, I'll make more time for us. I promise."

She stared back with a sudden agitated expression. "You've already used that one."

"I just…" He sighed. "I really promise this time. Ok?"

She reached to tug on his collar again. "Ten minutes in bed. Maybe even a quickie. Then I'll believe you."

He put a couple seconds of thought into that. Ultimately, he shook his head and gave her another kiss. "Sorry, but no quickie right now."

"Mmmm…" She moaned with a whiny tone. "What's wrong with just ten minutes?"

He showered her face with kisses as an apology before he let go. "Love you, Ros."

"Love you…" Rosalyn let go and stepped back as Johnson finally turned to get the rest of his things. She watched as he got his brown police coat on, and then grabbed his gear, including his high-pressure Splattershot and his IPD badge.

The look in Rosalyn's eye was almost vacant, almost distant, as she followed Johnson to the door to see him off with a smile and a wave. He gave a smile and wave right back, before he opened the door and disappeared for the day.

Rosalyn sighed before she walked right back to bed. She and Grant were still building their life up, even if it was rather slow, pretty much one baby step at a time. However, they both had steady jobs, they both had income, and they both loved each other. So she knew in her hearts that one day, they would get there. Assuming he kept coming home alive, at least. She knew she couldn't really expect much more than that for now.

And who had sex in the morning, anyway?

Jessica's Apartment

Morning light crept through the bedroom windows as Jessica's moans filled the room, and Bridgett's hands clamped down hard on her sweaty hips, squeezing her. The bed was rocking and squeaking beneath them as Jessica, who was leaned forward on all fours, rocked against Bridgett's pink strap-on dildo that repeatedly and rhythmically thrusted into her womanhood. With both her and Bridgett bare naked except for the toy, all her skin was glazed and shiny from her sweat, her lips and chin were wet from both Bridgett's saliva and her own drool, and her fists was gripping and pulling on the bedsheets.

"Ah! Oooh!" Jessica sunk down as Bridgett rose a leg and leaned over her to get a better angle, getting the strap-on in right where she liked it. She reached down to rub her own clitoris. "Oooh, I'm gonna cum again!"

Bridgett only sped up as, against the backdrop of their slapping flesh, Jessica broke down into a hard orgasm, twitching and shaking as her upper body collapsed entirely. Her face dug into the pillow as she rode out the orgasm all the way to its end. She tilted her head to the side, absolutely euphoric.

Bridgett panted for air as she slowed to a stop. Before she even bothered to pull out, she leaned forward to plant soft, loving kisses on the back on her neck, and grope her left breast at the same time.

"Oooh, fuck…" Jessica shivered from the sensation.

As they both panted, Bridgett finally pulled out and undid the strap-on. She threw it toward the open closet, which already stored their growing collection of sex toys on the bottom shelf.

She collapsed on the bed behind her, wrapping her arms around her waist. She rubbed her abdomen. "Why did we even bother taking a shower before?"

"You were the one who kept giving me sexy looks in there." Jessica brushed her hair out of her face as she cuddled with her, putting her hand on Bridgett's arm and rubbing it.

"Mmm... sorry." She replied half-heartedly as she kissed her neck again.

After they rested there for a few minutes, Jessica slowly sat up and then got out of bed, ignoring her weak and shaky legs as she walked to the door.

"Hey. Um…" Bridgett slowly sat up and played with her fingers as she looked at her. "You mentioned the Executioner last night just before we started?"

Jessica's hearts sank. After another great night, good sleep, a shower, and another great morning that negated that shower as pointless, she had almost forgotten about that. Of course, the great sex could only distract her for so long. She leaned against the bedroom doorway. "Yeah… Johnson reached out again."

"And?"

"And… he's worried there's another big thing going on out there. Someone that hired the mercenaries I fought, and these other guys Daniel gunned down."

Bridgett sighed. "Goodie."

"Whatever it is, I'll deal with it." Jessica replied.

Bridgett shook her head. "The Senate and KRAKEN are both getting really riled up, Jess. I don't know how much longer we're gonna be able to keep this up before they really start to interfere with us."

Jessica sighed, thinking about that. "…Maybe if I go out there, find Daniel, and stop his rampage, they'll start to trust us a bit again."

"So this is what it's gonna keep coming around to? Another fight between you two?"

Jessica didn't respond to that.

Bridgett looked down. She hesitated on her next question. "…Do you want to fight him?"

"...Hey." Jessica walked back toward her. Bridgett looked at her as she cupped her cheek. "However it goes, it'll be ok. Daniel… wasn't even in my life for a long time. You know that."

She nodded. "I know."

Jessica leaned toward her. "I'm happy where I'm at now. The only people I need in my inner circle right now are you and Dana. And Gramps via occasional phone calls."

Bridgett pulled Jessica's hand from her cheek and squeezed it with her own, entwining their fingers. "And I believe you. But that doesn't mean you ever resolved everything that happened with Daniel. Or Vanessa."

"Finding Daniel again… is purely a part of my vigilante life." Jessica continued. "Not this one."

Bridgett sighed. "As if those lives are different? Come on, don't start fooling yourself again."

She squeezed her hand. "I'm trying to say that my life as it is, is perfect. And as long as it stays even remotely the same… Daniel, or KRAKEN, or Senator Dickless aren't gonna be able to throw any kind of wrench in it, even if they try. I promise."

Bridgett, although still unsure, couldn't help but smile at her. Smiling back, Jessica leaned in for another tender kiss, which she returned.

As they broke off, Bridgett looked her in the eye. "I might be busy the next few days… so I don't know if I can help yet with Daniel. But I'll still give you whatever emotional support I can."

"Well… if I've still got you here for a while… we both smell like we were in an orgy. We could use another shower." She smirked at her.

She smirked back and tickled her hand. "I'm down for that~"

Jessica broke off and went back to the doorway. She pointed back at her as she walked into the hall. "And no sexy looks!"

Bridgett playfully threw her hands up in surrender. "No sexy looks!" As she followed her into the bathroom, she suddenly grabbed her from behind, tickling her. "But you didn't say acts!"

Jessica's squeals and giggles echoed through the apartment before they even got back into the shower.

?

The soft hum of the green Octoling's voice rang through this dark room she now sat in. This Octoling, with her unnatural green skin, was strapped to a chair in the corner of this room, unable to really see her surroundings, with all four of her limbs completely bonded by rope that wrapped around her body and the chair.

Yet, here she sat and sang her tune from the world of her childhood, unbothered, unwhining. Just… waiting. Her head was eerily tilted in a still position, and her eyes blankly stared ahead into the darkness, barely ever blinking or moving.

After what felt like an eternity, she barely even winced as the lights started powering back on, revealing the claustrophobic garage she sat in the southeastern corner of. Against the backdrop of the gross, unpainted and uncleaned walls, there was a small, twin-sized bed in the northwestern corner, and a make-shift kitchen with a grill, some pots and pans, and a portable fridge in the southwestern. On the eastern side, a few feet away from her, there was an entire wall that was lined with military equipment: An assortment of guns and bombs, and a bulletin on the wall, that displayed a map of Inkopolis with several marks on it, along with other photos and data that were pinned to it.

She looked ahead as the garage door in the northern wall opened up to reveal the familiar, black truck. Shining its headlights through the room, it slowly pulled into the center, where it came to a stop and powered down. The garage door shut again, and the truck door opened. Out stepped the Executioner, with the same exact gear and mask that covered his face.

"Hey, you're back." The Octoling smiled.

The Executioner barely glanced at her before he moved over toward the wall with his military equipment. He opened a large plastic box in the corner that he started sorting through, lowering himself onto one knee.

"Been a while. I haven't been fed." The Octoling continued. She looked around the room. "I see you took refuge in one of the many Underdog bases that was hidden in the city… never to be found by the police. Clearly abandoned…" A mocking frown formed on her face. "By everyone but you. So lonely."

The Executioner paused as he heard that, before he continued with his business.

"You don't need the mask, Daniel." The Octoling continued anyway. "I already know who you are."

One more pause as the Executioner rested his arm on his knee. After some consideration, he got back on his feet, and reached up to pull his mask off, finally revealing the pale face of Daniel Murdock, with his blue, top-knot hair.

The Octoling smirked. "There he is."

Daniel set the mask on one of the crates as he turned to face her. His trigger finger was twitching rapidly, he was breathing heavily out his nose, and his eyes held an intense, burning, ink-lust as he stared her down. "You can't fool me."

"With what?"

"This green skin." He stepped toward her. "I tracked that truck down to get a package. But the only thing that was there was you. Where is the package?"

"I was the package."

He back-handed her firmly in the cheek, hard enough to tilt her head.

Sighing, she looked back at him. "So much pent-up anger…"

"Zodiac. The package was supposed to be Zodiac. Where is it?"

"Sooo in over your heeead…" She sang. "Laaa… laaa… laa, laa, la, li li laaa…"

"Where!?" Daniel shouted, smacking her the same way.

As her head flew to the side, she started staring off at nothing.

Fed up, Daniel moved over toward one of these tables and picked up a high-pressure charger, cocking it.

As the Octoling watched, she suddenly broke down into laughter. "Are you gonna shoot me, Daniel?"

"You think I'm joking?"

"I just don't really think you know what you're-" She screamed as Daniel indeed suddenly shot through her right thigh with more high-pressure blue ink. "Hmm!" She groaned as she leaned forward, looking at her wound.

"Nothing about this is funny." Daniel continued. "You need clarification? There's been talk on the streets about something called Zodiac. Some new drug. Scratch that, a bio-weapon. A dangerous one. I know the Hodgson Syndicate has been trying to revive their drug trade through the city with all these new drugs that have been showing up… and when I heard on radio that Zodiac was being transferred by people they hired, I tracked down the truck and all I found was… you." He held the charger toward her face. "So talk. Where is Zodiac?"

The Octoling only let out another ominous laugh, up until Daniel fired into her left thigh this time.

"Huh!?" Daniel continued.

The Octoling paused, hissing for a moment… before… "Young little Octoling sleeping tight…" She sang in a soft whisper. "May the screens and domes bless your night… in this underground wooorld… with but a flickering hope in sight…" She turned and looked Daniel in the eye, smirking. "Occius bless this underground wooorld… May he comfort you with hope and light."

More and more irritated, he reached forward to grab her armor. "WHO HIRED YOU!?" He yanked her forward, as far as she could be with the ropes and binded her. "Where is Zodiac!? Why were they carrying you in that truck, and what were they doing!?" As the Octoling kept singing non-chalantly in response, he started shaking her. "WHERE IS ZODIAC!? URRAGHHH!" He shoved her back as he let go and stood up.

The Octoling once again started laughing at him. "You'll need to do a lot more if you want to interrogate u-"

Without thinking, completely taken over by fury, Daniel reached the charger forward and fired into her chest this time, right into her hearts.

Cut off, the Octoling choked, barfing up some ink onto her own chest. She twitched slightly in her bonds, and then slowly slumped forward. Her head drooped lifelessly.

Shaking, Daniel stared at her as he took a couple of steps back. Tears started to build in his eyes, and even his breath was unsteady as he wiped some of her ink that had splashed onto him. He examined the ink on his glove, and stared back at the body, hyperventilating. "Dammit…"

Lowering his head in defeat, he turned back around and walked back toward the nearby table. He was about to put his charger back down, when he heard the Octoling twitch behind him, spitting up some more ink onto her lap. Then… she started singing again. He turned back toward her, confused.

Stretching her neck, the Octoling rose her head and looked at him. "That hurt."

Daniel just stared at her. He took slow, shaky steps back toward her, where he grabbed her jaw with one hand, and angled her face in multiple directions to determine whether or not this was an hallucination. With his schizophrenia… touching her was how he made sure she was even real.

As soon as he let go, the Octoling again stretched her neck. "Don't worry so much about finding Zodiac… it will find you. I promise."

Daniel stepped back from her. He took slow breaths to keep himself calm as he stared her down.

She chuckled. "Look at you… so lost on what is even real and what isn't. Are you sure you even know what you're doing?"

Indeed, the buzzing and the chorus of voices that Daniel heard so often were on full attack in his head. Voices that whispered at him to kill her, tear her head off, or tear his own head off. To burn down the garage and find a new hideout, as he had been exposed. His plan had been threatened.

"If you want to find Zodiac…" The Octoling continued. "I can perhaps give you… one hint."

Daniel looked at her, confused. "Then what? What's the hint?"

"There is… something, going on in this city. And everyone is in on it… Gangsters, charity, police… Politicians… who seek the Splatoon themselves." She smirked. "Particularly, there is one guy, up in his biig, large building... The man on top~ If you find him… you'll find Zodiac."

Daniel stared at her. "Where do I find him?"

"Uuuuuhmm…" She darted her eyes around, seemingly thinking. "You already mentioned the Hodgson Syndicate. The ones who are trying to run drugs. I'd start with them. And… there's your hint!" She smirked. "Go for it. Go be a hero, Daniel Murdock."

Daniel stared at her one more moment, before he turned away from her.

"But be quick!" The Octoling cut him off one last time. "The evidence will be disappearing soon."

Daniel looked at her one last time before he finally walked away toward his gear to begin preparations.

Inkopolis Police Station

Deep in the hallways of the police station, Richter, with his bruises and all, had been sitting at the same cold metal table, in the same dark interrogation room that he had been in and out of for the last week. Today, he had been here for a few hours straight, with nothing but the different interrogators and the one-way mirror to keep him company.

As he played around by tapping his fingers against the table, he looked up as the door buzzed. As it opened, a police officer came in with tray of mashed potatoes, gravy, and some veggies, which he set down in front of him. He then simply stood there, staring at him.

Richter looked the food over, then looked up at him. "No utensils?"

"Bon appétit, you piece of shit." He walked right back out. The door buzzed a second time as the door was shut again.

On the other side of the one-way mirror, a team of other police officers, led by the aging, balding Inkling Captain Hertz, watched as Richter started slowly eating his food with his fingers.

Lieutenant Johnson, carrying a medium-sized manila folder with all the files they had on this case through the dark hallways, came into this room as well, where he joined by Hertz's side. He stared through the mirror alongside everyone else. "He say anything yet?"

"Still hasn't even asked for a lawyer." Hertz responded. "Whoever hired him must have him petrified shitless. Won't speak about them, Agent 3, nothing."

"Well, we've got new bits of evidence." He held the folder up toward him. "Think I can get another crack at him?"

With a healthy slice of cautious optimism, Hertz took the folder, opened it, and briefly looked it over before he smiled. He handed it back. "If you like talking to a brick wall, be my guest."

Johnson dangled the folder in his grasp as he made his way over, unlocked the door, headed in, and locked the door again. Richter simply looked up at him as Johnson walked over toward the table.

"Well, your guys have made quite the buzz." Johnson held the folder up, playing with it in his hands. "Whoever hired you, you've even got the Executioner on your case now."

Richter scoffed and turned back to his food.

"Yeah, you wouldn't want the Executioner reaching them before the police, would you?" He stared directly at him. "I'm gonna give you only one more chance to answer honestly. Who hired you? And why did you target the senate?"

"Scumbag senator was corrupt." He looked up at him. "Just like KRAKEN."

"Scumbag? Wow, ok." He nodded. "Always something to hear a scumbag accuse others of such a thing. So were you trying to be another vigilante, is that what this is?"

Richter again didn't respond.

"Well, as long as we're getting somewhere." Johnson opened the folder, sorted through, and pulled out the files they had on the trucks that the Executioner previously crashed. "Some new developments happened. The Executioner created quite a buzz crashing a whole bunch of trucks along Bonning Avenue and stole something from one of them. Not unusual, I know, it's the kind of thing that's going on all the time these days. But, guess what, we were able to trace the trucks, and the gear that your mercenaries had, back to…" He set the next file down in front of him. "The Hodgson Syndicate."

Richter glanced at the file.

"Yeah, I remember those guys." Johnson patted the file with a sarcastic grin on his face. "They used to be the king of the drug trade in Inkadia. Then the Underdogs incident happened and they got dethroned… but looks like they're trying to make a comeback." He put his hands together as he paced behind the table. "So. If these guys hired you… what did they want with Senator Garrett? And those buildings?"

Richter briefly tilted his head to the side, cracking his neck. "I told you. Scumbag senator was corrupt."

Hearing that, Johnson suddenly put his hands on the table as he hunched over it, angrily leaning in toward him. "You jammed a knife into his neck. Leaving him to be found tortured and dead by KRAKEN. You tortured and threatened a pregnant woman. What kind of sick vendetta could you possibly have that would justify that?"

Richter stared into his eye, smirking in an unthreatened manner.

He squinted. "You think this is funny?"

"Very."

"You wanna share why?"

"I just think that you don't really have any idea what's going on in your own city." He suddenly coughed. "It's amusing."

He paused, glancing back at the one-way mirror. He turned back to him. "That's funny. We don't know what's going on with you, either. So let's not play games."

With the smirk still on his face, Richter turned back to his food and kept eating.

"Hey." Johnson abruptly pulled his tray away. "Talk."

Richter wiped his fingers on his pant-legs as he looked up at him. "Yeah, Hodgson has been reviving their drug trade. New drugs that are out that are giving them the edge. But they didn't hire us. You're not gonna find the people who did. They'll show themselves when they're ready."

"Ok, so if the Executioner stole something from them, was it one of these new drugs? What drugs? And where'd they get them?" He awaited an answer, only to get nothing. "Hey. Why did they hire you?" He pressed him, becoming steadily irritated. "Why did you kill Garrett?"

He stared at Richter, as Richter stared at the table. His hand started to twitch a bit.

"Do you wanna eat or not?" Johnson continued.

No response. Richter's eyes now held nothing but a thousand-yard stare, and his breathing remained slow.

After a couple moments, Johnson picked the tray up entirely. "Fine. You'll get this back when you decide to talk."

Richter glanced up at him as the buzzer went off, the door opened, and Johnson was let out.

As Johnson joined with the others behind the one-way mirror and set the tray down, Hertz gave him a sarcastic shrug. "I told you."

Johnson put his hands on his hips as he stood by the Captain's side, and they stared through the window together. They all fell into silence, as he put more thought into what Richter had just told him in there. "…History of mental illness?"

"Who knows? I told you, we don't have shit on him, he's like a ghost." He glanced at him. "In either case, you don't take crazies at their word, Johnson. He's just another wannabe who doesn't like the system as it is. His hints and his threats mean nothing."

Johnson didn't respond as he stared ahead. He watched as Richter reached to grasp his own abdomen.

Hertz couldn't help but chuckle. "Looks like he's got an upset tummy."

Another moment passed, and suddenly Richter grunted as he violently hunched forward. Trembling and groaning, he reached a hand forward to grasp the table, staring at his arm as it twitched. As he shakily stood up, barely holding himself up, he then vomited on the table.

Johnson lowered his hands. "The hell?" He glanced back at the tray of food that he himself had confiscated. Had it been laced?

Things only grew weirder as Richter started mumbling to himself and then, without warning, he slammed his own head into the desk as hard as he could, bludgeoning his own face.

"Fuck! Go grab him, now!" Hertz shouted.

Johnson joined with the army of officers that ran over toward the interrogation room entrance. It took a moment for them to get it unlocked, and by the time they finally got it opened and poured inside, Richter had already managed to slam his head down up to five more times, and then promptly collapsed, sliding awkwardly off of the table.

Johnson knelt down and grabbed Richter to pull him upright as he cradled him. His face was now completely swollen, and drenched in his own vomit and bled ink.

"Get a medic!" Johnson shouted as he examined his condition.

In Richter's last moments of life, vomit and ink was oozing from his mouth as he silently choked on it. "Z-… Zod-… i-… a-…" His voice barely came through before he went limp.

The medical officers arrived too late, but by the time they did, Johnson was still knelt over the body, staring on in horror and confusion. He hesitantly stood up to give the medics space, and took a few steps back, glancing around the room. He looked back at the one-way mirror, knowing that on the other side, Hertz was staring right back at him, probably just as confused as he was. He looked back at the body, rubbing his own mouth.

That Night

The chattering ringing of the red desk phone went off, and was swiftly answered by the large, heavily tattooed Inkling man, with a business suit that contrasted his complete gangster look, complete with six golden rings on his fingers. He held the phone to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Richter's dead." The growly, deep voice responded on the other end.

He raised his whiskey glass, taking a sip. "Which one of ours got to him?"

"Nobody. He beat his own head in and died in the interrogation room. Police think his food was laced, but it wasn't us."

The man's calm demeanor melted away as he set his glass down. He hesitated. "…Did he talk?"

"Don't know. I'm looking into it."

Without further conversation, he hung the phone up, tapped his desk as he looked around his office, and then stepped out into the other room.

It was a large, somewhat run-down room that he walked into, with brick walls, rock music playing, and a pool table in the corner. There were several gangsters, all of the Hodgson Syndicate in here, of Inkling, Octoling, and even Great White Shark variety. All of them hanging out, chatting, drinking, or playing pool. As he walked in, he looked everyone over. "Richter's dead!" He announced.

Everyone paused as they looked over. Another one of them shut off the music, allowing them to talk in quiet.

"It sounds like one of Lincoln's men might've gotten to him." The large man continued.

Whispers and small chatters continued through the room as everyone took that in.

"But it was always going to happen!" The large man cut them off. "Richter and his mercs, just another sacrificed pawn in the game." He walked up toward the bar, where he grabbed yet another large bottle of whiskey, and poured himself a glass. He took it and held it up as he turned to everyone else. "Today… should be a cause for celebration."

"The hell is there to celebrate?" Another one of them responded. "We didn't even do anything."

"We have been doing something." He pointed at him as he turned to him. "By sitting by and allowing our enemies to tear each other apart. The Splatoon? Even they're getting chastised by the Senate as we speak. So this is the day that we're gonna stop taking orders and we're gonna start doing something for ourselves."

No one responded, awkwardly glancing at each other.

The large man looked at his glass. "…I think some of you are starting to forget… that there used to be a time when we ran this city. Before the Underdogs. Before Lincoln. We used to be the only ones with skin in the game. And we got chopped down. Axed. We've been at the bottom of the food chain ever since. No one's denying that. But the tide is turning again. A hole is slowly but surely growing, and the bigger it gets, the more of a vacuum it forms. And we're gonna be able to fill it. With one more step." He looked everyone over, with serious, rageful eyes. "We claim Zodiac."

Again, the room erupted into whispers and chatters.

"And the Octo-freaks that have been bossing us around?" One of them asked.

"We'll use them to get to Zodiac." He replied. "Then we cast them aside, like we always do. And once again, we'll be the only ones with skin in the game. We'll be the top of the food chain again. Because I'm tired of being anything less!" He hissed, flinging his saliva into the air. "We're gonna make this our time!"

Some of them started to nod in agreement. Although many of them were hesitant, one-by-one, they all started to grow more confident upon seeing their boss' new mood. They could do it, they realized. They were closer than ever before.

A couple of them, looking around, started to notice a new smell. Wondering what it could be, they looked around, then up toward the vents. What appeared to be a small amount of gas was pouring inside.

Unaware, the large man pointed at the ground, shouting: "So starting today, we're turning the tide. We're gonna take these Octo-freaks, bend 'em to their knees, and get them licking our toes! And we'll make Inkopolis ours again!"

The crowd cheered as some of them raised their glasses.

As some of them downed their drinks, more and more people were starting to quietly notice the smell, and looked around in confusion. One of the sharks, upon smelling it, suddenly growled, turning toward one of the nearby Inklings as if he could smell ink in the air.

Some other people that were close to the vents groaned, and one of them even vomited onto the floor. As the cheering continued regardless among those who hadn't yet noticed, another Octoling, starting to hyperventilate as he breathed in the fumes, darted his eyes around as he pulled back his coat and reached for his gun.

Unbeknownst to all of them, just outside of their warehouse at that moment, the Executioner's van was pulling into the parking lot, its headlights cutting through the darkness. As it quietly found a hidden spot behind the corner to park, the car deactivated and its headlights switched off, leaving it blended in with the shadows.

Inside, Daniel shoved his way into the back of the van, where he turned on his flashlight and held it with his beak. He quickly sorted through all of his gear, opening crates, grabbing his weapons, assembling them, and filling them with his blue ink. He even equipped his bombs and grenades, making sure he was as stocked up as possible. He equipped his own personal high-pressure charger that he typically relied on for the most gunpower, a high-pressure Splattershot for quicker use, and a longer, scoped rifle charger for ranged use.

Then, finally, he slipped on his Executioner mask, and secured it around his head. A wave of comfort and confidence washed over him as he switched on its voice changer, and his breath audibly sounded through it. He opened the back of the van and climbed out, not even bothering to close it up again.

He laid down his extra weapons in secure spots by the bushes and walls that he could easily reach again in a pinch, before he took his trusty charger, cocked it, and walked around the corner to find the entrance. He didn't necessarily care if he lived or died, in any of these confrontations as it happened, but he regardless took slow and cautious steps as he aimed his gun ahead of him, ready for anything.

Then, disrupting the quiet and the distant choir of cricket chirping, loud gunfire suddenly rang out from inside the building. He jumped as he looked up toward the windows, where he could vaguely see some ink splashing inside. Screaming, more rapid gunfire, and even Splat Bomb explosions pursued, signifying an entire active war that was happening inside. Some more red ink splashed directly on the window as Daniel passed.

Breathing heavily, Daniel pressed on anyway, until he reached the door and kicked it down. He pointed his charger ahead as he came down the dimly lit, narrow hallway, kicked down the next door, and finally came into the main room.

He was already too late, and even he couldn't help but feel shocked by the ink-soaked massacre he had walked in on. All around the room, dead Hodgson Syndicate gangsters laid, after apparently getting into a large fight among… each other. For seemingly no reason, they had all whipped out their guns, and just started firing upon each other with lethal, high-pressure ink, in a brutal free-for-all shootout. By the time Daniel came in, only a few of these gangsters remained, and even they quickly took each other out with final ringing shots before they dropped dead.

Only one of these Great White Sharks remained, and he was violently eating the remains of the gang leader's corpse, leaving some of his fingers with the golden rings left behind on the ground. He tore through his lifeless flesh with his teeth as if he was desperately trying to get rid of his very existence, and leave no evidence that he ever lived. Upon smelling Daniel, he sniffed and stood up, facing him to reveal the high-pressure shots he too had taken to the chest, and his blood that was steadily oozing down his torso.

Daniel pointed his gun at him, hyperventilating under his mask as they stared each other down.

The shark tried taking a couple steps toward him, before he finally succumbed to his wounds; With one last breath and faint growl, and some ink and stray flesh that he barfed back up onto his own chest, he collapsed backward and hit the ground with a thud, leaving the place in an deathly silence.