"Alright, what else do I need?" Salem pondered to himself, his glare focused on a small note held tightly in his hands. Its contents? The 'ingredients' he was certain would be key to undermining a certain fish-themed affliction.
Or at least, a functional prototype to it.
"I've got the stomach-ache syrup from the other store, the ink sac-cleaning pills and the anti-pathogen medicine", Salem recounted in his head, uncurling a finger for every item mentioned. "Which only leaves the antibiotics and the immunization formula."
The sound of ruffling fabric pulled him from his thoughts, and a glance at the backpack slung over his shoulder showed it to be shifting and bending in various places. A few soft taps on its surface caused the backpack to go still once more.
With a sigh and a shake of his head, Salem walked to another aisle and grabbed the first bag of snacks he could spot.
"This should keep you busy," Salem added as he opened and then dropped the small bag inside his backpack before closing up the zipper.
"You know you can't bring pets in here, right?" A bored, somewhat nasally voice spoke up, startling Salem. Getting up, he spotted the source of the voice: An inkling close to his age sitting behind the nearby counter, a hand supporting their head. The store's cashier, judging from their uniform and hat.
"O-oh no, I just don't wanna dirty the floor after trying out these crackers," Salem attempted to explain.
"Mhm. And I'm the mayor of Inkopolis," The cashier retorted with a lazy nod. "Just try not to make too much noise, will ya?"
The words stunned Salem into silence. Did they really not care? Were they too bored to care?
Once he realized he'd been staring at the cashier for longer than would be considered normal, he gave a quick nod before awkwardly shuffling along to another part of the store. At least they didn't ask what kind of pet he was carrying...
Once he was certain he was out of the cashier's sight, he set his backpack on the floor and opened it up. A deep frown was etched on Salem's face as he glared at the 'passenger' huddled inside: the smallfry Skipfin.
"If I get caught again, I'm blaming you," Salem whispered. Skipfin replied with a screech of protest, his diminutive fins flailing about. If he was trying to say something, Salem couldn't understand it.
"Just don't move. And eat your crackers quietly, if you can?" The inkboy added before closing up the backpack again. That fish was too ravenous for his own good.
As Salem resumed combing through shelves upon shelves of medicine in search of the antibiotics, he questioned why he brought the smallfry along. It was a chittering, squirming ball of hyperactivity that couldn't seem to grasp the concept of sitting still; or keeping its voice down for that matter. He almost wondered if it wanted the attention of others, good or bad, and acted exclusively to satisfy that urge. Or if it had fun seeing him fret over its blatant disregard for the watchful eyes of Grizzco.
It was a wonder that Skipfin hadn't snuck out of his room during the whole incident at Evertide Mall. Trying to keep track of two salmonlings stressed him out already; add a third salmonid —a child at that— and Salem was sure he would've lost his mind right then. But considering the mess Skipfin had made of his room while he was away, and the escapades it, Khal and Yzel had gotten to on the very morning before Evertide, the lack of sneaking out seemed like a fluke.
No, it was simpler to just keep the smallfry close and directly manage its behavior, rather than leave it home and risk it sneaking out into public again.
Salem moved to another aisle to continue his search. If he recalled correctly, the antibiotics should have a yellow label in its flask. Yet as he continued to look through the various items on display, Salem could not see such a flask anywhere. Odd, usually it was readily available every time he had to come here for something.
"Hey, I can't find my meds anywhere! What gives?" A nearby voice demanded. Salem looked up to find a round lobster at the counter, speaking to the inkling cashier from before.
"There's been a delay in our last shipment of stuff," The cashier answered, "It's gonna be a while before we get any new stock for some products."
"Absurd! How could you be so careless?!"
A chorus of similar phrases and sentiments echoed across the small store from similarly disgruntled customers, especially the ones positioned closest to the counter.
Salem noticed the cashier furrow their brows and purse their lips as if to stifle a sigh before apologizing to the lobster, only to be rudely blown off by him as he stormed out of the store.
"Not like I can sue a salmonling for property damage…" the cashier muttered before resuming their work.
Salem's eyes widened. While that would explain why he couldn't find the desired flask, it brought no answer on the timing of this occurrence. It's only been a few days since the last scuffle between Grizzco and a salmonling; surely that would be enough time for whoever owned this store to salvage and transport what they could from the damaged shipment, or send over a replacement at the very least.
Either this property damage happened during said scuffle while he wasn't looking, or either one of the resident salmonlings had wandered out into public very recently.
Seeing no point in continuing his search here, Salem walked up to the cash register, a bag in hand containing the other items he'd grabbed during his time here. The checkout proceeded smoothly, though he could glance the cashier typing on their phone every few seconds as they tallied up the fee for the items.
"So.. what's this about property damage?" Salem asked in as unassuming of a tone as he could muster.
The cashier glanced at him, eyes widening for the briefest of moments before turning their sights on the screen of the cash register. "Truck of ours got messed up while carrying stuff. Wrong place at the wrong time."
"You think the other employees will be able to repair the truck?"
The cashier merely shrugged. "I think I'm more worried about some overgrown fish showing up outta nowhere," they said before handing Salem a check as he completed his payment.
Salem made his way to the exit of the store. As soon as the sliding doors opened, his backpack began to shift and bounce haphazardly once again; no doubt Skipfin being riled up by nothing. Salem slid his backpack forward over his chest, then gripped it tight with his two hands in an attempt to wrangle it into submission.
"You sure you're okay, dude?" The inkling cashier asked from behind the counter, brows furrowed in confusion.
"Yeah, yeah everything's—everything's fine!" Salem shouted, small grunts of effort punctuating his words as he struggled to rein in the unruly backpack. He hadn't managed to get it under control even as he finally stepped out of the pharmacy.
The cashier could only roll their eyes at the display before typing a message on their phone, quickly pressing send before returning to their duties once more.
Salem's scuffle with the flailing backpack persisted even as he stumbled into a dead end alley. It was only once he clenched it tightly and shook it roughly for a full minute that the passenger inside showed any signs of settling down. In a fit of anger, Salem pulled the zipper open and forcefully seized the smallfry.
"What's the matter with you?!" Salem whispered harshly, his grip on the smallfry tightening with a squeeze of his hand.
The smallfry hissed out several noises in response, waving its fins around as it explained and repeatedly pointing at the sky. Unfortunately, Salem was no expert on speaking salmonid, so none of its cries meant anything to him.
"Forget I asked," Salem griped with a groan. "Besides, the stars are not where I'm gonna find what I'm looking for."
Just as his hand moved to place the smallfry inside the backpack, it slipped free from his grasp and slithered up onto his shoulder. Skipfin began to chirp and screech and even point at the sky once again
"I don't care if you wanna stargaze or whatever, getting out is too much of a risk!" Salem snapped. "You could get hurt or killed or imprisoned like…
"I-shel?" Skipfin finished, looking up at Salem with a curious gaze. Salem winced at the mention of the inkling, then gave a slow nod.
"Yeah. Like Yzel…"
Salem sighed. Brave, foolish Yzel, sacrificing his disguise just to give him and that other salmonling a chance to escape. He would've appreciated it if he hadn't done it so recklessly.
What's with people throwing away their safety just to help a stranger, anyways?
"I'd rather Grizzco not use you to get to Jade, and I know you don't want to disappoint either of them after all the trouble they went through, right?"
Skipfin nodded its head gingerly, fins awkwardly clasped together.
"You do that by not getting caught, and you do that by staying hidden," Salem explained, flicking his finger in time with every declaration. "You can't act like you're home. And it's not like you've got your buddies to back you up here."
Before he could continue, a low, droning whirr passed through Salem's ears. The strong gust of wind that followed prompted him to look up, yet he was puzzled to find nothing in the night sky. No overhead planes or helicopters, not even a wandering drone. Yet the whirring still persisted, although getting fainter and farther away by the moment.
As if the noise itself came from a moving object.
Even as he scanned the horizon, he noticed a chunk of the sky looked strangely… distorted. Blurry and out of focus, the clouds and stars seeming to crackle and fluctuate repeatedly like heatwaves. And the distortion seemed to be moving farther away.
Just before he could fully ponder the phenomenon, Salem suddenly felt a small weight off his shoulder, and upon glancing at it he was startled to find Skipfin gone.
Of course, a short screech promptly alerted him to the smallfry's excitable swimming and skittering in the direction of the flying distortion, sticking to the shadows as much as it could.
"Stupid fish!" Salem cursed as he sprinted after the speedy Smallfry.
And unbeknownst to him, Salem was caught in the crosshairs of the scope of a charger, its wielder quietly observing him from their vantage point on the roof of a building. Waiting for the perfect chance to strike.
After spending the better part of an hour chasing after Skipfin (while not looking like a complete maniac to any onlooker), Salem finally managed to catch up to the smallfry. They'd arrived at what looked like a warehouse. No lights appeared to be turned on at the moment, and there was no sign of active machinery either. What could've possibly compelled Skipfin to skitter all the way here?
He got his answer soon after taking a moment to catch his breath. The sky distortion from earlier appeared to hover in place beside the warehouse, before sparks of electricity began to emit from it. Little by little, the distortion began to flicker and materialize into a more solid shape: A square-like flying machine.
"A salmonid Mothership? What is it doing here?" Salem muttered to himself, orange eyes wide in disbelief. He scrambled toward the nearest hiding place and quietly observed as the large ship took its next move.
A large, wide tube slid out from underneath the Mothership, the tip of it quickly taking aim at a fragile window on the warehouse. Suddenly, a large cannonball fired out of the tube, punching through the glass and leaving a large hole.
The ship fired several more times, launching medium-sized boxes instead, that all soared through the broken window. As soon as the last box made it inside, the Mothership flickered back into invisibility.
As if roused from a spell, Skipfin perked up and hastily rushed into the warehouse, with Salem following behind with hasty yet cautious steps.
The inkling boy came upon a flight of stairs and a door, and was puzzled to find it already unlocked. A thin trail of green ink on the stairs led right to it, even continued past the small gap underneath; no doubt the result of Skipfin's excitable skidding. He opened the door and stepped inside, the interior lights' low bluish glow enveloping him. He couldn't make out many details, but as he approached the edge of the platform, the sight that greeted him on the floor below caused him to gasp.
To his right, dozens of cages lay all over the building, unconscious Salmonids of various shapes and sizes held behind their bars. And from what little he could see, each and every one of the bars were vertical streams of pure orange ink, so its not as if anyone could just slip away when they pleased.
To his left, a legion of Salmonids quietly hopped and poured out of the boxes fired by the mothership. They all wasted no time in approaching the various cages, with some Salmonids even holding crude devices in their fins. They were placed all around the perimeters of each cage, and with the press of a button they began to suction up the ink bars, effectively halting their flow. With the cages neutralized, the salmonids quickly moved to wake up and release their unconscious brethren.
"Oh," Salem thought, "I just walked into a prison break."
Nevermind that Grizzco had suddenly decided to capture Salmonids. Or how Skipfin had somehow managed to sense the Mothership's arrival and—
Wait, where did that smallfry go?
He peered down once more and found Skipfin, messy mop of fin-hair and all, assisting in the release of the prisoners.
"Of course…" Salem thought, a soft groan slipping out of his lips as he slapped a hand to his forehead. "I'm just gonna turn around and…"
Suddenly, a steel door slid down over the one he'd just entered through, blocking his exit. This same thing happened to every other door he could spot.
"Right where we want 'em! Capture them!" A booming voice rang out. Just then, dozens of Grizzco troops burst out of various crates interspersed around the cages. They opened fire, a mixed hail of ink and tranquilizer darts descending upon the startled salmonids.
They scattered and spread out in an attempt to avoid Grizzco's attacks, with the bravest among the fishes throwing themselves at the workers and fighting back. It wasn't long before the entire warehouse erupted into chaos, as the salmonids desperately struggled to avoid capture whether by force or by fleeing.
Try as they might, resistance was futile.
As the fighting continued below him, Salem shifted to squid form and huddled himself in a corner. He tried to make himself seem as small as possible; the last thing he needed was to get spotted and indiscriminately shot because of trespassing or whatever.
What was Grizzco's deal, anyways? Imprisoning Salmonids was unusual. If they wanted to harvest their eggs they could've simply killed them, so they must be keeping them alive for some other purpose. What it was, he had no idea.
He could play detective some other time though. Right now, his biggest concern was getting out of here. Salem examined the warehouse once more from his vantage point, and found that the hole in the window caused by the cannonball was the only exit that hadn't been sealed off. He just had to get there and then superjump away without anyone noticing.
Salem slowly slinked closer to the edge of the platform, then dropped onto ground level once he was certain there were no wayward eyes on him. He made sure to position himself behind a tall box as he assumed his bipedal form.
The sounds of battle rang loudly as he stealthily made his way toward the shattered window, and even took the chance to collect small samples of salmonid ink into glass vials all the while. Salem could barely hear his own steps among the cacophony of flying ink, hurried footsteps, splashing tails, and the shouts of pain and anger alike that fluttered from anywhere and everywhere all at once. He could only imagine how fierce the fighting must be judging from this noise.
Every so often he caught glimpses of the larger battle; a chum suddenly crashing through a cluster of crates in front of him, only for a barrage of ink to pummel and tear through the salmon before it could get up. A Cohock wildly swinging an oversized serrated knife in its fins against a group of four, even skewering one of them when they failed to dodge a swing in time.
The sight of the worker inkling crumpling onto the floor and melting into an ink puddle rattled Salem. He knew the salmonids were aggressive, but never had he seen one attack an inkling in such a deliberately vicious way.
And it wasn't just that Cohock. Most of the other Salmonids appeared to be riled up, putting more force behind their blows and bites, subduing or outright killing their enemies in as painful of a manner as they could muster, even lashing out at those who so much as tried to drag one of their ilk into a cage.
He'd only seen this type of lashing out in people who felt grievously wronged. As if Grizzco had crossed some invisible line and done more than just inconvenience them. He would take care to not draw the Salmonids' ire for as long as he remained here.
Salem continued to stealthily trudge through the warehouse, and after making a right turn, found himself a short distance away from the shattered window. A couple strides and a superjump through the hole, and he'd be out of this place in no time.
Just then, a soft splash! reached his ears. It distracted him only for seconds, but it was enough for him to miss the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps.
"Freeze!"
Salem flinched at the sudden loud voice, and whirled around to see another Grizzco operative standing before him. The inkling kept his charger aimed squarely at Salem's chest, stopping him in his tracks.
"What are you doing here?"
"I, uh.. got lost," Salem answered awkwardly, his gaze wandering to the floor. The operative looked more disappointed than annoyed as he fired on Salem. Even as he was forced to retreat, Salem couldn't help but mentally wince at how little effort he put into that bold-faced lie.
Salem ran into a dead-end in the warehouse, and as soon as he drew his weapon, a well placed shot knocked it out of his hands.
"Whaddya have to say for yourself now?" The operative taunted once more
A shrill screech answered him, before a certain smallfry lunged from behind and tackled him to the floor. Over and over, Skipfin struck the operative with as much force as he could muster, never relenting even as its enemy struggled to pry it off his head. It gave Salem time to reclaim his weapon, and with a few rapid fire shots he rid himself of his assailant.
Salem grabbed Skipfin off the operative's discarded lifering, frantic worry evident on his face.
"You—where have you been?! What do you think you're doing?!"
"In tro-ble!" Skipfin pouted, pointing a fin at him. Hearing the smallfry speak inklish, broken as it was, briefly stunned Salem. Since when was it capable of that?
"I'm not the one in danger here, you are! Do you even care about your own safety?!"
"Skipfin no safe until frens are safe!" The smallfry shook its head.
Salem's mind ground to a halt at those words. "You.. consider me a friend?"
Skipfin nodded with its head. "Frens care for eech other. Sal-mon care for Skipfin, Say-lem care for Skipfin… now Skipfin care for you! Tee-hee!"
That was… the sweetest thing anyone's told him today, enough to slightly lift his spirits at that. He supposed Skipfin wasn't as ignorant of his efforts as he initially thought.
But before he could say anything, something pierced his shoulder. The sudden flare of pain caused Salem to drop Skipfin and fall to his knees. He looked behind him to trace a trail of orange ink, all the way to the owner of the Grizzco charger that just fired at him.
Other troops immediately moved to seize him by the arms, while one more forcefully took Skipfin in his hands. Both boy and smallfry struggled to wrench themselves off their captors to no avail. As they were dragged out of their hiding spot, Salem could see that most of the other salmonids had been apprehended or subdued as well, and the devices for suctioning the ink bars turned off.
He was slammed harshly against the floor, a noise of shattered glass following soon after. The sight only spurred Skipfin to struggle even more until it wrenched itself free and lunged at Salem's captors.
A loud pained screech rang out, and Salem looked up to see Skipfin a few paces away, injured and with its back pressed against a box. Too weak to move or even lift a fin against the assailant looming over it, weapon drawn and taking aim at the poor smallfry. They pulled the trigger—
SPLASH!
Just as a dark blur leapt out of the ink and wrenched their arm aside.
Their shot went wide. Instead of Skipfin, the ink pellets smacked against the box instead. Whatever had latched on quickly lifted the assailant by his arm, and violently threw him at the ones holding down Salem.
It felt like time slowed to a crawl as Salem got a better look at what— or rather, who— managed to save Skipfin. For a moment that stretched into minutes, his eyes met the steely gaze of the salmonling; the older, more cryptic counterpart that revealed her presence only days before.
No one had time to react before the salmonling commenced her assault.
She dashed onto the nearest foe, slamming onto them with the strength and speed of a bullet, then sunk back into her ink faster than any projectile could reach her. She was like a lightning bolt; swimming from spot to spot, striking hard and fast with palm strikes or finger jabs that knocked down one foe after another. All while dodging whatever the Grizzco troops frantically threw at her from both long and close range, or otherwise grabbing the nearest goon for use as a meat shield.
"Where'd you come from?!" Salem shouted, desperately trying to keep his head down from all the ink being flung
"I could ask you the same!" The elder salmonling shouted back, right before she sidestepped a roller swing coming from her left, then quickly hopped back and sunk into her ink as a small gathering of Grizzco troops fired at her.
Try as they might, their combined hail of rapid gunfire couldn't keep up with the salmonling's fast swimming, always trailing behind the fish as she curved and zigzagged and weaved her way into a winding path that made it difficult for the troops to land their shots.
With most of the troops busy dealing with the mutant entity, Salem took the opportunity to crawl over to Skipfin's side. He made sure to be as silent as possible upon cradling the downed smallfry, and quickly crouch-walked around the back of the box. He could only wonder exactly how— or even when— the elder infiltrated the warehouse.
The elder salmonling circled back around to lunge out of the ink in her swim form, fanged jaws open and primed for attack.
"No you don't!" a brash Grizzco goon slid in front of his teammates and brought their roller up in defense. The salmonling's jaws clamped around the weapon as a result, yet she only bit down harder on the roller, applying enough force so as to shatter the weapon. Their bout of panic allowed the elder to shift back and kick them aside, using her tail to grab another goon by the leg and swing his entire body like a flail against the others in a makeshift spin attack.
Salem continued to hide behind the box, holding Skipfin close even as the sounds of battle continued to rattle around him. He snuck another peek at the battle; though the elder salmonling held up well against Grizzco's underlings, her slowed movements indicated a growing fatigue. The large numbers and constant attacks from Grizzco didn't help, as they halted any attempts at approaching the salmonid cages. Worse, Salem could spot more reinforcements barging into the warehouse from one of the back doors.
As he checked on Skipfin once more, Salem made a choice. Sometimes helping a stranger was the only sensible thing to do. Safety can wait.
He broke into a sprint, making a beeline for the discarded remote. Even as his loud steps alerted the others and ink was promptly flung toward him, he did not slow down. Even as he got hit in the leg, his focus remained on the remote, diving towards it and slamming his palm on the button. At once, the devices placed by the salmonids flared to life once more, and promptly sucked up cages' ink bars.
With their prisons gone, the salmonids charged at their enemies.
Once more, the warehouse erupted into an all-out brawl between Grizzco and the salmonids. Yet the additional might of the elder salmonling's strikes and Salem's long range cover fire allowed the salmonids to prevail against their enemies.
As the last operative burst into a puddle of ink, the salmonids broke into cheers and celebrations. Salem merely lowered his weapon with a sigh, and took the opportunity to rest alongside Skipfin.
The elder salmonling was content to oversee the freed salmonids' boarding of the transport boxes alongside their rescuers. She suddenly felt the edge of her dark cloak being tugged, and looked down to see a chum grasping onto it with a pleading look on its face. From the tone and speed of its chirps, Salem could only guess that the chum needed the salmonling for something urgent. Whatever it was, it seemed as if she wasn't interested, judging from how she shook her head. She knelt down to its level and gently patted its head, then spoke to it in a language Salem couldn't understand.
A look of realization crossed the chum's features before it nodded hesitantly. She waved it goodbye as it joined its fellow salmonids.
"Mind telling me what that was all about?" Salem asked as he took wary steps toward the elder salmonling.
She glanced back at him before focusing on the salmonids once more. "She asked me to go with them, back to their island. I told her there is someone here I cannot bear to leave behind.. just like her brethren couldn't bear to leave her behind."
Salem listened intently, his gaze wandering to the swarm of Chinooks that began to float down and haul the containers back to the waiting Mothership. "You sure it's a good idea to stick around?"
"My place is here," The salmonling affirmed, turning around to face Salem. "No danger I face will change.. that..."
She noticed the laser reticle hovering over Salem's chest, and barely managed to push him out of the way as a charger blast cut through the darkness with a resounding BLAM!
As Salem stumbled back and tripped, the salmonling clutched her limp wrist, having failed to pull it back in time before the charger shot hit her skin. Both of their eyes quickly traced the trajectory of the inkline to a high-hanging walkway in front of them, along with the wielder of the charger standing on it.
Salem had no time to analyze the mysterious sniper before they charged up another shot right away, and barely managed to dive behind cover as the resulting blast slammed against the spot he was in.
The elder salmonling spat out an ink ball at the sniper, only for them to dodge and retaliate with a charged shot of their own. The salmonling hopped back in time, then used her uninjured hand to grab a nearby wooden box and fling it at the sniper.
They crouched as it sailed toward them, the box missing its mark entirely, and continued to trade ink projectiles against the elder salmonling. All while Salem scrambled to think of something to deal with this new foe. He couldn't make use of the other salmonids, they must've all returned to their Mothership and escaped by now. He needed to hit that cephaling with something they couldn't see coming, something they couldn't evade in time. Something that would overwhelm them...
Frustrated chirps snapped him out of his thoughts, as he found a restless Skipfin urging to take the Sniper on. His gaze moved from the smallfry to the elder throwing yet another box at the sniper, then to the hanging overhead lights around him. An idea quickly formed in his head.
He hopped out of cover and took potshots at the bay light above him, causing it to flicker and casting the area into intermittent darkness. He dove for cover as the sniper fired at him again, before popping back out and shooting at another nearby bay light. He repeated this process for several other lights around him and the elder salmonling, even providing some cover fire for the elder as she sent ink ball after box after ink ball against their common foe.
Yet even with reduced visibility, the sniper's aim remained sharp, their charged shots always inches away from hitting their mark on either inkling or salmonling. Not once did he completely shake off their aim; his stunt with the lights only made it easier for the sniper to track Salem's movements.
That's alright, Salem wanted them to keep shooting at him.
When the lights flickered out, the salmonling flung another box at the sniper just as Salem shot ink at them from where he stood. Both attacks rapidly encroached upon their target, yet instead of dodging the sniper whirled around and blasted the box out of the air. As it burst into shards of wood, one large chunk continued to rocket toward them. A squishy, flailing, smallfry-shaped 'chunk'.
"Gotcha," Salem smirked.
With the ink from Salem's shots slowing them down, the sniper failed to dodge a screaming Skipfin latching onto their face, assaulting them with a series of slaps. The constant attacks caused them—her, judging by the grunts of pain— to stumble around until she fell over the railing and hit the ground floor.
Just as the sniper pried Skipfin off her face and threw him aside, she heard a gun cock beside her. The sniper laid still and dared not turn her head as Salem pressed his splattershot pro to her head.
"Are you on Grizzco's payroll too?" Salem asked forcefully, glaring at his attacker.
The sniper merely scoffed before responding, "I dunno… Are you on Jade's?"
Both Salem and the salmonling's eyes widened. How did she know that name?!
He was stunned for only a moment, but it was enough for the sniper to quickly slam her elbow into his stomach, throw a burst bomb at her feet to free herself, then use her leg to sweep Salem off his feet.
The salmonling moved to swipe her claws, but the sniper dodge rolled before a slash could connect. She lobbed a glass vial at the salmonling's feet; a lime-tinted cloud of toxic mist quickly ensnared the mutant as soon as it shattered on the floor. Its scent was so overpowering that the salmonling fell to her knees as a strong coughing fit overcame her.
With the mutant weakened, the sniper swiped her discarded charger, then took aim at the downed Salem once again. Yet, something caused her to stop in her tracks.
Salem heard it too: indistinct shouting from behind the doors. More Grizzco troops were on their way.
The sniper cursed to herself as she glanced between her two fatigued opponents. "Can't carry both of them. Not without Grizzco spotting me.."
She appeared to be pondering something for a moment, only to shake her head. From the pocket of her jacket she pulled out a small Squee-G drone and set it on the ground. As the drone began to clean up all the lime green ink scattered around, the masked sniper went and stuck a small thin disc on the sole of Salem's right shoe.
The battered boy could only look on in confusion as she moved past him only to tuck the unconscious Skipfin under her left arm. "Wait, what are you.."
"Change of plans," The sniper muttered before she superjumped through the window, and then away from the warehouse entirely.
Salem got up on shaky legs, quickly taking stock of the damaged warehouse and the weakened states of his remaining companion. His own recovery could wait; He needed to act quickly, lest the both of them get apprehended by Grizzco.
He hobbled over to the elder salmonling's side. He tugged at her left arm in an attempt to pull her up, but found her too heavy to move. He tried to support her on his shoulders and sluggishly carry her away from the mist, and was glad to see the salmonling take unsteady steps beside him as her coughing began to die down.
They hunkered down behind a large steel crate as Grizzco troops began to pour into the warehouse through some of the doors. "Spread out and search every corner!" Salem heard one of the troops yell, "That freak could still be lurking somewhere!"
She was, but they didn't need to know that. Inkling and salmonling shared a glance, Salem's uneasy expression contrasting the elder's pained yet calm gaze. Little by little they inched closer to the shattered window, and with what remaining strength he could muster, Salem superjumped into the night sky with the salmonling in tow.
Only once they'd gotten sufficiently far away from the warehouse did the unlikely pair take a moment to rest. Salem dropped to his knees as soon as the salmonling got off his shoulder, his efforts to catch his breath interspersed with bouts of coughing. The elder, for her part, sat down beside him, and leaned on the wall behind her for support.
"Who.. was that?" Salem rasped out, still gasping for air.
"The sniper was using low tide ink."
"Huh?" Salem perked up at that, staring confusedly at the salmonling.
"I caught a whiff of it during our battle," she added. "It smelled differently from the ink launched from Grizzco's weapons, and every time I made contact with it, I felt my mind grow hazy and lost feeling in my limbs for brief moments."
"You sure you're not talking about the toxic mist she threw at you?" Salem suggested, his voice slightly steadier now.
The salmonling shook her head. "That one had a different smell. Stronger, yet not enough to shut down my nerves like the ink did. A well-aimed shot could've paralyzed you."
"Nevermind that, she knew about Jade! She knows I'm helping Jade! How did she know?!" Salem cried out, his voice growing more panicked with every declaration.
"I trust you didn't mention her out loud?" The elder asked, to which Salem profusely shook his head. "Then perhaps.. someone who knew you did."
Salem wracked his brain for any possible candidates who could've snitched on him. Khal was out of the question; even if he and Jade weren't on the best of terms, Salem doubted the boy held any ill will or desire to upend Jade's privacy.
Constantine already knew the importance of keeping Jade's identity a secret, and was busy trying to uncover what he could from analyzing her blood. Yzel was stuck in jail, so it wasn't as if he could go out and tell anyone even if he wanted to…
But someone like a cop could force him to talk if they wanted to.
Besides, it's been 3 days since the battle at Evertide Mall. Who's to say a… persuasive cop hadn't finally managed to get Yzel to talk using whatever forceful methods they could come up with to break him.
He needed to go to the police station. He had to speak to Yzel as soon as possible; maybe cobble together something resembling a plan on what to do next, or how to best use the gathered samples.
"Wait, my vials!"
He was dismayed to find them reduced to shards of glass, his pockets stained a murky green from all the spilled ink.
"And test them against whatever crude concoction you manage to create?" The elder added.
Salem was dumbstruck for a moment. "How did you—"
"Pity. I was hoping you would've heeded my words…"
"I'm trying to cure a disease, how is that not 'overcoming what clouds her mind'?"
"You know our condition is not ordinary," The elder salmonling calmly reprimanded as she stood up from her spot. "How, then, do you expect ordinary medicine to deal with it?"
"What 'clouds' Jade's mind is a byproduct of what's affecting her body. I take out the salmonid ink, I take out whatever chemicals are messing with her brain."
"Oh, but removing the ink's physical taint does not guarantee the removal of its mental one."
"I'm sorry, 'taint'?" Salem repeated with utter bafflement.
"You've seen what it does to our bodies," The elder answered, bringing her swollen monstrous hand out as an example. "But what it does to the mind cannot be deciphered from mere glance. "It is true that the salmonid ink's presence on our brains affects our... perception of the world," The elder salmonling began to explain while pacing around Salem. "But the suggestions that can form while under that altered perception are not tied to the ink itself. Even when its presence recedes, these suggestions can still imprint onto you, mingle with your thoughts like—"
"Like an idea?" Salem finished. The salmonling nodded in turn.
"And much like any other idea, they cling to your mind without need for a physical carrier to spur them on."
Salem took a moment for all the information to sink in. A question sprang up soon enough. "Ideas can be ignored. What's stopping you and Jade from just.. shutting them out?"
"Were it so easy," The salmonling scoffed as she glanced back at Salem. "These 'ideas' multiply. They.,. nag, they fester, they coalesce,.. until you can hear them whisper in your ear,. See them with your own eyes."
Salem stared at the elder throughout her explanation "Those 'whispers in your ear' aren't really there, right?"
"Real or not, the mind's conjurings can often be… enthralling.…"
As the salmonling spoke she turned her gaze toward a nearby window. She found her own shadowy double glaring back at her, its mist-like form bound and wrapped in chains.
Salem, however, only saw his and the salmonling's reflection on the window. He could only wonder what lay beneath the salmonling's intense stare, what so-called conjurings could be taking her attention right now.
After a moment, he spoke up. "You know, if those suggestions ever get too loud… I'm willing to lend an ear."
The salmonling's ears perked up, a slight tilt of her head notifying Salem that she listened. "I can hardly grasp them myself. How can you hope to understand?"
"The way every doctor learned to help their patients. By reaching out, digging deep… and forging a way out of their pain."
The salmonling was taken aback by Salem's determined glare. "'Every' doctor?"
"...W-what I meant was—"
"In that case…"
At once, the elder salmonling's tail flicked to life. It reached into one of Salem's pockets and pulled out a syringe before passing it over to her hand. With delicate motions she plunged the syringe into her other bicep, and held it there for several seconds until the glass inside was all filled up. "You wish to help your patient. Surely you'll have greater odds of success by testing on an accurate sample of their affliction. Or am I wrong, 'doctor' ?"
Now it was Salem's turn to be at a loss, uncontrollably stammering yet unable to spout even a single word out. She actually trusted him?
"But more than medicine.. She requires a pillar. Your compassion is that pillar, one that must never be toppled."
Her hand gripped his shoulder tightly as she spoke, her purple eyes focused on him. The voice that spoke to him now was not the stoic mutant, but whoever lurked behind that face. Someone kinder, concerned with the wellbeing of those around her.
Regardless of who she was, her intentions were clear. Her words less so.
He merely gave a half-hearted nod in response. "I'll.. try to keep it in mind."
"That is all I ask," The elder salmonling gave him one last pat on the shoulder before she leapt onto the wall and climbed onto the roof. Soon she had leapt away into parts unknown.
Once he was sure he was on his lonesome, a long, haggard sigh escaped Salem's lips. "Compassion, huh…"
Throughout sleep and daybreak, the salmonling's words continued to weigh on Salem's mind. He didn't want to admit it out loud, but what she described scared him. Then again, everything about this situation shook him to the core.
His legs trembled with every step taken, all while his mind raced. Jade's feral bouts weren't mere side-effects, but a prelude to what would come should he allow the mutation to fester. She wouldn't just lose her cephility— she'd be stripped of her hopes, her choices, her bonds with others, each replaced with base and degenerate instinct. Her cognition twisted little by little to sate the whims and demands of her new genes.
But not just her. The elder too, and anyone else unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end of a salmonid's jaws. He hadn't known Jade for very long, and the elder less so, but no one deserved to have their will and mind be tampered like that. To change someone so thoroughly, inside and out… just how did the salmonids achieve such a thing?
"It's not like I could go ask them about it," Salem bitterly reminded himself. They were too busy dying or getting captured.
And that sniper, too… If there was one thing Salem loathed above all else, it was a curveball. She was a complete enigma, vanishing as suddenly as she appeared and fighting with skill he'd never seen before. If she wasn't from Grizzco, for what reason could she be hunting him and his friends down?
All these questions, yet not a single answer. Salem was sure of one thing: He needed to stay vigilant. For Jade's behavior, for his companions, for their enemies, for any leads he could find toward a possible solution to any of this. But being vigilant could only do so much without acting on things. So many things to act on in so little time…
"What am I supposed to do..?"
"Talking about it usually helps," A new voice offered, firm yet curious. Its owner stood mere feet away from him: A mature-looking inkling woman dressed in a brown trench coat, her purple eyes gauging him intensely. One he didn't recognize.
"Wait, purple?"
She closed in on him faster than he could run away, and before he knew it Salem had been dragged into a shadowed alley. His constant struggling did nothing to loosen the woman's grip on his forearm, only prompted her to tug him closer before slamming his body into the concrete wall.
"Salem Cusk. Stop struggling."
"Do I know you?!"
"My name is Nephrys Piranh," The woman answered. "I know of your friends. I know of your recent attempt at disrupting Grizzco operations."
"If you wanna arrest me for self-defense, then go ahead!"
"Arrest?" Nephrys chuckled dryly. "I only wish to know. How did you and Constantine get involved with the salmonling menace?"