Chapter Text
They had been fighting for nearly an hour now, and Eight was once again exhausted beyond belief.
When it came to fighting, Eight could do the bare basics. But she was far better at running away or devising a plan to avoid conflict. If she could compromise with the enemy instead of confronting them, she would do so in a heartbeat.
She knew something was amiss as soon as the elevator to the surface halted. At first, she was just annoyed - she had spent hours trying to get to the elevator in the first place and only made it alive thanks to the power of pure adrenaline and Off the Hook’s guidance. Running from enemies without a weapon, dodging lasers, scaling walls with an inkjet, and defending a giant battery from constant fire was something she probably will never be able to replicate again. She only just managed to wind down, but she couldn’t say she was surprised at least.
She heard a lot of shuffling and shouting from Cuttlefish’s end of the microphone on her way there, and while she tried to ignore it so she could listen to Pearl and Marina’s commands, she had a horrible feeling that whatever was going on was going to make her life a lot harder. Because everything just loved to do that to her, it seemed. Nothing could ever be easy for Agent Eight, because life was difficult and a pain in the ass.
As the elevator’s hum came to an end, even Pearl and Marina went silent, like whatever stopped it could hear them too.
Eight scolded herself for not investigating further. Instead, she stood still, like a terrified deer, waiting for something else to move. And now here she is, fighting - or rather, running away from - the strongest inkling she could think of. Although this inkling wasn’t technically themselves right now, Eight could see why those in the Valley saw them as a monster to be feared, even if they had no real memories of them.
Eight was starting to slow down. She had been throwing bombs and running for far too long now. The wound on her back from countless test failures had opened up along with a slew of new ones burning through her skin. Her leather shirt stuck to her skin wretchedly, making moving difficult. Her nose was bleeding heavily after she tripped and promptly landed on her face at one point, and some of the blood had already dried and crusted over her face. She wished she wore her null armour this time, but there was no time to change when she was about to be blended to death and she didn’t have any chance afterwards. She didn’t anticipate nearly dying so often. Nonetheless, she wished she had been more observant. She should have seen this coming.
The adrenaline kept her going, but fatigue was catching up quickly. She had a limit to reach eventually. ...Does this inkling have any limits, though? Can they even get tired in a state like this?
She heard a bomb being tossed in her direction and briskly rolled out of the way, hiding behind one of the two boxes in the arena to catch her breath. She tried to ready another bomb of her own. There was an inked escape route to her left that she could take if she needed to run again, but not the right.
The floor was freezing to the touch and she almost sat back up upon contact. There was no way to escape the actual elevator, with it being nothing but a large rectangular platform high into the air. There was no way down, as far as the octoling was aware of. It was only up from here, and she certainly couldn’t get access to the controls with a mind-controlled inkling on her tail.
She gripped the handle of her Octoshot as if her life depended on it - scratch that, her life did depend on it - and listened to the sound of the inkling’s growl as they regained the turf around them. Eight was almost tempted to close their eyes and wish the inkling away. Her heartbeats sounded louder than the rest of the noises around her.
“You’ve almost got her, Eight,” Marina whispered over the headset. “You’re so close. She’s weak.”
As am I, and I don’t think I can keep it up much longer.
Another bomb went off. She gasped, shooting a sloppy path to her right this time and swam away. Once she assumed she was a safe distance away, she got back up, only to be greeted by the inkling standing a foot away from her. Far too close for her liking.
Three’s eyes were glassy and unnaturally green. Their irises were shaped like lens apertures.
Oh, well aren’t I lucky.
Eight took note of how little of the mind-controlling goo was left on the other’s face. She aims slowly but leaves herself open in the process. Three, with a snarl, quickly tackles her to the ground with a booming thud .
The octoling felt a sharp burst of pain scale up her back as she hit the cold floor and restrained a yelp. Her weapon had slipped through her hands and flew a few feet away, it’s landing echoing through the elevator’s seemingly endless room.
She panicked and tried to shove Agent Three away, but they had one hand pinning her wrist to the ground and their hero shot to her throat in the other. Eight grabbed the other’s wrist with her free hand and managed to at least push the gun away from her, but the inkling was stronger than she was and this only seemed to make them angrier. Three growled, loud and deep, like some kind of animal. Nonetheless, Eight continued to try and struggle free and wiggle out of their grasp.
They really are some kind of monster, Eight caught herself thinking. No - no, no, they aren’t themselves. This isn’t who they are, I’m sure. But what are they capable of when they have their own free will…?
The two struggled for control of the situation, close enough to each other that Eight could feel Three’s uneven breathing. Eight was slipping fast. She was weak and in pain and at this point, she was clearly losing. I’m going to die here.
Without much of a choice left, she let her fight or flight instincts take over. She wasn’t the biggest fan of fighting someone without anything other than a bomb or ink weapon, but she didn’t have much choice now, and they weren’t playing fair either…
Eight took a deep breath and shut her eyes, slamming her forehead against the other’s with as much brute force as she could muster. Three howled, lifting their hands to their head to attempt to ease the pain. It wasn’t enough to get them off though. Eight ignored her own throbbing pain and used this time to lift a leg as high as she could and kneed the inkling hard in the stomach. Three croaked, finally stumbling off Eight and onto their back. The goop appeared to be melting off their face at this point as if someone put fire to a candle and watched the wax drip to the floor. It fell loud and quick.
Oh my. Perhaps that was overkill.
E ight scurried backwards, not taking her eyes off the other, grabbing her weapon back just in case.
“Eight, Eight,” She heard Pearl shout, her voice full of anxious excitement. “That stuff on their face is gone. It’s A-OK, they should be free now.” Despite Pearl’s reassurance, Eight didn’t give herself a chance to relax just yet.
The octoling gulped, sitting still. She kept her gaze trained on Agent Three. They had flipped themselves onto their hands and knees now, coughing aggressively, as if something was stuck in their chest and they couldn’t get it out. Eight felt a wave of guilt rush over her despite all that had just happened. There must have been a better way to have handled that, I’m sure…
She stepped forward a few steps, curious but cautious. The inkling’s ink colour had lost all signs of the sanitized green, and was now back to what Eight assumed was their natural ink colour aside from the tips of their mantle - a very light blue, like chilling ice. They were shaking violently now, and Eight felt a new wave of fear overcome her. How much damage did that do? Surely a kick to the stomach wouldn’t do that to a normal cephalopod. What’s wrong with them?
Three’s head turned, making eye contact with Eight again. For a split second, Eight almost stumbled backwards. Their right sclera was completely black, with their iris the same sea green as before, complete with the aperture shape. Their left eye was completely normal now, with white sclera and normal, orange iris. The inkling’s eyes were glossed with pain, pleading for some kind of help from Eight, with no signs of hostility like minutes before. Eight felt awful .
She crouched down next to the wheezing agent, hesitantly reaching her hand out to offer some kind of assistance. But before she could close any gaps between them Three turned their head and gasped, then fell into another fit.
At this point, they were hyperventilating, struggling for air until they made a loud gagging noise. Eight reached out again, concerned. The inkling followed this up by vomiting both ink and bile. Surprised, Eight stood up and stepped back a little bit, just enough to give them space but also rub the other’s shoulders in a very awkward attempt to comfort them.
Three threw up for 2 more minutes, wheezing and gagging in between, but it felt like an uncomfortable ten before they began to calm down and stop. Their breathing was still ragged and heavy, but the worst seemed to be done now.
Eight was crouching behind them now to avoid the mess. The smell was bad on its own, but the addition of sanitized ink only made it worse as it stung like the smell of cleaning products. The stench was like someone had tried to take a corpse and douse it in bleach.
Eight got to her feet, wobbly before she caught her balance. Her whole body was sore, but she pushed the pain aside for the agent in front of her, reaching a hand out to help them stand.
Three didn’t even seem to notice her, unfortunately. They tried to keep themselves steady on their arms, but let out a few weak coughs and collapsed.
Eight squeaked and quickly got to her knees to grab the other, pulling their body up towards one of the boxes on the elevator. She checked their wrist quickly for a pulse.
Fortunately, the inkling seemed fine now aside from the mess. Their breathing was calm and steady like they were taking a deep and relaxing sleep. The octoling sighed in relief.
Well, I’m certainly glad I didn’t kill someone today. That’s not something I’d like to deal with for the rest of my life.
She stood back up and took a few steps back, making sure not to wake Three up. When she saw no reaction, she made her way to the box on the other side of the elevator and settled down in front of it. Eight kept her gaze on the inkling, though, just in case they showed any more signs of pain.
At least the past three months were almost over.
I just need to get to the top and things will be fine. No more crazy zombies, no more brainwashing, no more talking telephones...I can finally have some peace.
“Well uh,” Pearl said for the first time in a few minutes. She and Marina must have been watching too intently to say anything, or Eight just didn’t hear them. “That was nasty.”
“Pearlie…” Marina scolded.
“What? It was.”
Eight craned her head upwards, staring at the light above. “No, she’s right,” She let herself giggle, hoping to ease the tension despite the waves of pain. “ That was so gross. Absolutely not fun at all, I wouldn’t recommend fighting a brainwashed inkling.”
The elevator finally began to hum and move up again. Eight pushed her glasses up. I’m surprised these are still intact.
“Anyways...Take a moment to breathe, Agent Eight. You’re almost out of there, you did amazing,” Marina said, sounding just as exhausted as Eight as if just watching put her in heaps of stress.
“Yeah! That was awesome, Eight. We knew you could do it.”
Eight sighed, too tired to celebrate now. She had to admit, she was surprised that they had faith in her considering her record of terrible fighting skills. But she was just happy to be done.
She was alive. She was going to the surface. Nothing else seemed to matter right now (well, except the worrying state of Agent Three across the room).
The sunlight on this particular morning was warm and comforting. Though to be fair, Eight didn’t recall feeling genuine sunlight in the past, so this could be cold by normal standards for all she knew. But after all, she’s gone through she welcomes it, letting the sun warm her skin and relax her muscles at last. She sat on the edge of a platform being held by one of Pearl’s many helicopters, her tentacles flying in the wind, far above the ocean just off the shore of what she assumed was Inkopolis. Eight almost wanted to reach down and dip her hands into the water, just to feel what it was like, but they were clearly far too high in the air for that.
For the first time in three months, Eight felt good. She felt like she was on top of the world.
She stretched her arms above her head and yawned. Behind her was Marina tackling poor Pearl to the ground, the two giggling incessantly while the captain cheered. She was too tired to shout and dance with them, but she made it clear that she was just as proud and excited.
After her escape from the fight with the brainwashed agent, she didn’t think things could get any crazier than it had been. But she was clearly, so utterly wrong in that department. It turned out that the telephone was a crazy AI who wanted to wipe out all modern humanity, and Eight had to put all she learned to the test to stop it. Covering an entire statue of a human head in her ink was difficult on its own, and she did it rather clumsily, but she had managed thanks to Marina’s help and Cuttlefish’s hype. Pearl even got to scream at it, which, now that Eight thought about it, was an incredibly silly way to die. She was sure glad she wasn’t on the receiving end of the idol’s voice.
H er train of thought was interrupted by a loud grunt behind her.
Oh, right. Agent Three.
She had completely forgotten that the inkling had passed out earlier and slept through all the chaos of the past hour. They must be in a lot of pain to sleep through a scream like that…
No one else had noticed them except for Eight. She turned, watching them carefully. They had been cleaned up at one point. Eight was too distracted to know when, but she was glad they were tidy now at least. They lifted themselves up with their arms, looking around with tired, puzzled eyes. Their eyes were normal again, she noticed. At least as normal as they could get since Eight was pretty sure that the heterochromia was new. Their right eye was a bright teal and the other remained a soft orange, but at least their sclera was normal and the odd lens-iris shape was gone now.
Eight’s tentacles stilled as she made eye contact with them. Without any awful brainwashing in the way, Eight had to admit that Agent Three was… Quite cute, actually. They had large, expressive ears that Eight hadn’t seen because of their headset before - though one seemed to be torn up a bit, presumably because of the ink. Their bangs looked like they were meant to be straight but had been haphazardly forced into a side-swept position, and long blue tentacles - the right had a large bite mark near the end, too, that she didn’t pay attention to before now.
Eight realized that she was genuinely curious about the inkling. She certainly didn’t expect to want to learn more about them, but her brain was already forming hundreds of questions at a time.
How did they lose a part of their tentacle? Was it in Kamabo? Where were they when I was doing those tests? How did they end up there but get separated? Are they the same inkling from one of my mem cakes? ...Are inkling ears always so expressive?
So many questions filled her mind that she didn’t notice she was staring, and Agent Three was staring back. They weren’t making eye contact anymore, but they were certainly confused as to why an octoling was staring at them for so long.
Oh! You’re awake, Agent Three,” Marina’s voice interrupted, apparently done cuddling Pearl to death by now. “Captain Cuttlefish cleaned you up earlier, but I still need to check your wounds before we reach solid ground. You too, Eight.”
“My...wounds?” Three sat up, slowly, wincing. “ What wounds? I feel...fine, ish.”
“There’s no point in lying, you know,” Eight said. “You’re clearly in pain right now.”
Three’s ears flattened. So instead of their tentacles moving, their ears do instead?
She watched Marina guide them up the ladder to the helicopter attached above. As soon as the two were out of sight, she rolled her shoulders forward and finally took her ink tank off.
Eight had completely forgotten about her own wounds. While most seemed just a little sore, like her nose, the ones on her back stung against the humid air and she grimaced. It had formed pretty quickly when she got to the metro since having a bomb full of chemically-filled ink exploding so often wasn’t exactly good for your back. She bit her lip and held back the pain for now. Marina will help her with it soon.
She angled her bag towards herself and opened it, reaching inside and pulling out 3 mem cakes and a strange golden trinket. She lay them on the ground in front of her and double-checked that she wasn’t too close to the platform’s edge just in case. When she was satisfied, she began to examine each one by one.
The first was of an inkling that she now knew for sure was Agent Three. This was the first mem she remembered getting, and one of the many she wasn’t sure how to decipher (though, looking back, she should have asked Captain Cuttlefish…). She figured out quickly that each cake vaguely represented a significant memory, so clearly, this meant Three was important for something in her past. The only guesses she had so far were about how she got here in the first place. Eight remembered Cuttlefish mentioning something about an ambush and losing Three, so maybe that happened beforehand…
The next was an Octoling in standard soldier gear, with deep blue tentacles styled in a mohawk. The ones in the back were longer than those in the front. This was actually one of the few that jogged some kind of memory in her, but only vaguely. There had to be more to discover with it. The octoling was her sister, and clearly, she was an important part of her memories and life. Eight felt her gut sink when she tried to remember anything more specific though. It wasn’t her fault she had no recollection of her sibling, but it made her feel guilty nonetheless. She had no attachment to her because of this. How could she, after all? She had no memories to cling to, just the idea. This only made her feel worse. If she ever managed to reunite with her again and still lacked anything significant, things would surely be awkward.
The third was of a salmonid in a suit. Eight actually didn’t know what a salmonid was until Pearl explained it to her, and this was apparently a golden variation of them. There were plenty of other kinds as well. She hadn’t quite deciphered this one besides that, unfortunately, but it and the octoling cake were the last two she had received before the blender fiasco. She still had 77 more to go through and take notes on...It would take a while to comb through everything, and they could change each other so quickly. With every new memory, there was a new note to take, and with every new poem, he wrote she would have to go back and edit the last. She wanted to make sure everything was perfect and consistent. She couldn’t risk not getting her own memories right.
Thump.
Eight’s study time was interrupted by Pearl plopping herself down right next to her.
“Whatcha got there, Eight?” Pearl said with her hoarse voice. Eight had to strain her ears to make sure she heard over the loud helicopter.
“My mem cakes,” Eight replied. “And this...thing.” She lifted the golden trinket - a golden takoyaki on a stick.
“So the usual stuff with something fancy?” Pearl took the takoyaki and examined it. “Where’d you find this? I don’t remember you mentioning it.”
“Oh...It was near the lockers at the main station. I was going to take it to the lost and found but…” She let her voice trail off, knowing that Pearl would understand what she was alluding to. “I believe it was good luck anyways.”
“Good luck, eh? Figures you’d be into that kinda stuff.” Pearl snickered, handing it back to her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Eight grumbled. She began to put her mems away but kept the takoyaki on her lap. “I think I went through enough to believe in miracles.”
“Good point. It’s just, ya know, a nerdy thing to do. And nerdiness seems to run in octarian blood.”
“Believing in good luck and being hopeful does not equal being a nerd. It just means that I…” Eight hummed. ”I...Uh…”
“Mhm. Neeeerd.”
“Shush. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
Pearl chuckled, holding back any real laughter for the sake of her throat. “Ya got me there, Eight. You nerds are cool as hell.”
“Although I’m not quite sure what to do with it just yet,” Eight fumbled with the takoyaki between her claws. “It would look nice on a shelf, I suppose. But I would rather keep it with me somehow.”
Pearl leaned forward with a hand on her chin in an exaggerated manner. “Oh! I gotcha,” She took the item from Eight again and leaned upwards, carefully placing it through the kelp holding Eight’s tentacles up. “What about this?”
Eight smiled and ran her fingers over it. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of that before. Thank you.”
“Eight!” Marina’s voice shouted from the helicopter above. “Come here a sec, let me see your back.”
Pearl nodded. “You should get to that, your back looks nasty.”
“Thanks, Pearl.”
“Just pointing out the obvious,” Pearl got up with a bounce in her step. “I need some water, so I’ll be right behind ya.”
Once inside, Marina closed both the helicopter door and ushered Eight onto a box in the middle. As expected, Three was still there on the other side of the room. They now had multiple new bandages covering their face and entire right eye, and their hands had been wrapped up tightly as well. Most likely because they had rammed themselves into a glass ceiling, Eight assumed.
Marina examined her back while Pearl appeared with a glass of water (Where did she even get that?). “Yeesh. It’s worse than I thought, Eight. You might need to take your shirt off for a minute.”
Eight complied and Marina began to examine her back further. At one point Pearl decided to sit down and help, handing Marina whatever she needed while making a few comments every so often. Marina had tried to wash off as much of the remaining sanitized ink as she could with a wet cloth, but apparently, her back might be stained. She could try to clean it in the shower herself when they get home, Marina had said, but she wasn’t sure how much could be done or how long it’d last. The stain went from the bottom to her back all the way up the back of her neck and a small portion of her chin.
When Marina was done, her whole torso was wrapped in bandages. Instead of putting that awful leather suit back on, however, Eight reached into her bag and opted to grab the top portion of her null armour instead. It would be too warm to wear for long, but it was better than wearing that . The leather sunk deep into her skin and burned into her wounds and she simply didn’t feel like putting up with it for the next few hours. The armour not only gave her an extra layer of protection but also fit snug around her body.
" Thank you,” Eight said. “ For that and...Everything.”
“Aww, Eight. There’s no need to thank us,” Marina smiled.
“Yeah, we just did what was right. But you’re welcome anyways,” Pearl said. “We’re always happy to help you out.”
Eight leaned forward, tiredness hitting her like a hard wave. “And I’m happy to have met you all in person, finally. I don’t know what I would have done if I was stuck there by myself. I’d go crazy, most likely,” she joked.
P earl chuckled uncomfortably. Marina just raised an eyebrow and smiled.
“Maybe you should rest a bit before we get to Inkopolis. It’s been a long night, after all.” Marina began, stretching. “I’m getting really tired myself. I think I’ll take a nap in the front.”
Pearl nodded. “I agree with Mar. I’m tuckered out.”
“Alright. Can you let me know when we’ve arrived, please?”
Pearl gave a quick thumbs up and vanished behind a curtain with Marina that separated the front of the helicopter from the rest.
Agent Eight turned around to Three, who had their back completely turned to her. They were hunched over, ears flat, looking uncomfortable.
" What are you looking at?” Eight spoke up.
The inkling jumped, their ears perking high. When they turned around to her, their face was puzzled. “Uh...me?”
“Yes, you. Agent Three.” Eight scooted closer. Three turned their body around and shuffled a little back.
“I was...er...looking away, ‘cause you were changing. To be polite.” Three said, avoiding eye contact.
“Oh,” Eight said. “Well thank you, I suppose.”
There was some new feeling of discomfort talking to the inkling before her now. Was this really the same person who tried to maul her a few hours ago?
Silence. Awfully awkward silence.
“Aren’t you tired?” Eight piped. She felt something in her chest tug her forward, wanting to talk to them so badly, to learn something about them.
“Yeah.”
I guess if I passed out for that long and woke up in an unfamiliar helicopter I wouldn’t want to sleep either.
Eight played with one of her tentacles, thinking. “Thank you, by the way.”
“Huh?” One of Three’s ears twitched. “For what?”
“Saving me from being chopped up and liquified in a blender for the sake of some crazy telephone’s horrible plan to wipe out all modern life.”
“...Oh. That. Right. Uh, you’re welcome,” Three replied. They held their uninjured tentacle in both hands like a comforting doll. “Thank you too, I think. Sorry, for...all of that. From before.”
Three looked ashamed. Hurt, even, but not by her. Eight frowned, unsure where to take this conversation. It wasn’t their fault all of that had happened in the first place. Plus, if it was anyone’s fault, it would be hers, wouldn’t it? She was the one who fell for the AI’s tricks in the first place…
“Don’t be sorry, Agent Three. It wasn’t your fault.”
Three nodded, tugging the end of their sleeves now.
Eight noticed something she didn’t before. The fabric on their shirt seemed to be torn or burnt in some way, and the little bit of skin she managed to see seemed to have burn marks as well. Not horribly, she hoped, but enough to look like it hurt.
“What happened to your wrists?”
“What?” Three quickly tried to hide their hands under their tentacles.
“Your wrists, they look hurt. Did you inj-”
“Oh. Those,” They interrupted. “It was from the blender.”
Eight furrowed her eyebrows. “The blender couldn’t burn you. That’s impossible.”
“No, I mean… Well…” Three paused, trying to find their words. “You see, when I came to the metro, I was separated from Cuttlefish… That, uh, telephone said I was classified as a guest. Which was okay at first, I guess, but when I started looking for the captain I was told I was dangerous or something. Somethin’ about potentially interfering with the test subjects.”
They paused for a moment to gather their thoughts, then continued.
“...So some weird octolings managed to corner me and put some bracelets on my wrists. They were really uncomfortable and crappy things. They made it so if I got within a few feet of you it would shock me. It got me pretty bad when I hit that blender…” They finished with a sigh, rubbing their hands together.
That’s the most I’ve heard them speak, but that answers one question.
“Is that why we couldn’t find you?”
“Yeah… I mean, I saw you a lot. Mostly through cameras, but a few times in the city. I tried to make sure you - the captain - were safe,” Three’s ears wiggled and they blushed.
“A little weird, but I understand,” Eight said. “I just hope you weren’t watching me for long on purpose.”
“I - what? No, no no no!” Three waved their hands frantically. “I would - no! I wouldn’t do that. I’m not creepy. I just saw you when I was investigating. I wouldn’t - I -”
“Calm down, I’m joking with you,” Eight giggled. “You’re a funny one, Agent Three.”
“Malibu.”
“Pardon? Caribou?”
“Malibu, my name is Malibu. I mean, you can call me that if you want.” They smiled, albeit a little sheepishly. Malibu had finally turned to face her properly, which Eight was grateful for. Talking to someone who wouldn’t look her in the eye was no big deal, but when their body is facing a different direction it can become a bit troublesome.
“That’s a lovely name, Malibu. I like it.”
“Thanks.” Malibu seemed to be warming up to her now, thank goodness.
Eight felt herself being drawn to the inkling more every second, wanting to ask a million questions at once. Some were very much of importance, but the more she thought, the more she wanted to know the little things…
“You’re Eight, right? That’s what you go by now at least?”
“Oh no, I’m Five,” She said, “I hope you weren’t expecting someone else, were you?”
“Five? I’ve never heard of an Agent F- Heeey. ” Malibu glared. “You’re messing with me!”
“Not at all!” Eight lifted a hand to her chest, feigning ignorance. “I would never. ”
For the first time, Eight heard the agent laugh. It was no more than a chuckle, but it was still a sign of amusement. She felt her face warm up and she almost leaned closer. She found herself wanting to hear more.