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Chapter Text

H4CK3R ducked a flaming ball of pure lime-green light, and it hit the white wall behind him. The Chosen One - or NO ONE, now, he mentally corrected himself with renewed satisfaction - tried his best to lean as far away as possible, but, since he was tied to a chair, that was not very much. H4CK3R hoped he was fearing for his life as Mitsi had probably been as he'd ended her. He deserved this. He more than deserved this.

The orange hollow-headed kid in front of him growled in fury as he realized he had missed again.

H4CK3R forced a grin onto his face. "I'm afraid you're going to have to try harder than that if you want to rescue your dear little friends," he called out, baiting his younger brother.

He growled again. "Touch them and I'll fucking destroy you!"

The only reason H4CK3R was doing this, risking his life, was to test the kid's incredible power. Not only was it severely destructive, but it could also bring people back from the dead, or so The Dark Lord had told him. She'd told him a lot of things, actually, but that was the only thing that had stuck.

The only reason he was doing this was for Mitsi.

Lost in his thoughts, he was almost too late to notice that his foe had risen into the air, his head grazing the ceiling of the Box, his eyes glowing even brighter as lasers shot out from them both towards him.

Almost.

He thrust both his hands out, blue lasers of his own shooting outwards to meet the green ones. A white ball of light appeared at the point where they met, and H4CK3R snarled, the force of the green lasers pushing him back slightly. 

The kid was strong, no doubt about it, but he had to be stronger.

Failure was not an option.

Not when he was so close.

The light between them grew, adopting a turquoise tint. He heard Agent's voice from outside the Box, but both the thick walls and the unnatural sound of the lasers swallowed the words whole.

The white walls of the Box suddenly flashed red, almost making H4CK3R lose focus. The mistake cost him a few more inches.

That can't happen again.

The kid let loose a roar of fury, and his bright lasers increased in thickness.

The turquoise-white light grew and grew, until H4CK3R could make out nothing else. He fell to his knees with the effort of holding his own, the power gradually draining.

No...

No!

Need more power!

A world of white consumed everything, forcing H4CK3R's eyes closed.

Chapter Text

Who was he?

He didn't know.

The only things he knew were the pounding in his head and the impenetrable darkness that he was currently trapped in.

You have to get up.

He heard nothing, so the words were probably just his thoughts, but he felt incapable of stirring. The darkness was nice. Peaceful. Surely a few more minutes wouldn't hurt...

Get up.

The thought was louder this time. A small crack appeared in the dark, casting light over him. He could make out a bright blue sky, could see the clouds drifting lazily without a care in the world, could hear the muffled sound of traffic and music. It seemed so loud out there...

GET UP.

Chosen opened his eyes, gasping. Where was he now? Was he still bound to that chair? Was Victim about to beat him to a pulp again?

He sat up, his fight or flight reflex screaming at him. And right now, flight was winning.

Deep breaths.

That bright sky probably meant he wasn't in that Box anymore, but that didn't make sense.

And yet, the sweet, fresh air on his face suggested otherwise.

Deep breaths.

Chosen looked down. He noticed that he was lying on dark grey tarmac, a circle of three white arrows painted around him. Were they meant to be a target? Was this some sort of sick joke?

Deep breaths.

He looked around. He was surrounded by tall, light grey blocks of flats, washing lines that sagged slightly under the weight of colourful clothes strung up between a few of them. Train tracks - which hung in the sky, he realized with shock - curved gently off to the right and out of view. Even as he watched, a long train bearing an assortment of stickers and graffiti tags sped across them.

He was also surrounded by people -

He frowned.

He didn't know what they were, but they weren't people. A few of them had masks connecting their eyes, while others bore white circles sticking out of their moist-looking hair.

His frown deepened.

That was not hair. They looked more like... tentacles?

Fear swelled within him.

What were they?

One with green tentacles approached him tentatively.

"Hey, uh, you okay?"

There was something off about their voice, and Chosen quickly scurried backwards, as far away from them as possible, until his back met a solid wall.

He leapt to his feet and took off running instead.

"Wait! Where are you going?!"

He didn't look back, just kept going.

These... these creatures were so abundant, and as he sped past, many shouted after him, all asking if he was okay.

Only when he was sure he was alone, Chosen stopped and leaned against the nearest wall, chest heaving. It was a positive that he wasn't in the Box anymore. But in its place were strange creatures that resembled sea creatures.

Just great, he thought.

He brushed his dreads out of his face -

Wait. Why did they feel slimy?

No, no, no, no, no.

He pinched one between two fingers, the slick texture making him cringe, and studied it. Curiously, it was white on the inside, but the outside was black, fading to red at the bottom. It also had the white circles he'd saw earlier.

Shit.

Why was he one of them? Was this some sort of simulation that Victim had forced him into?

No.... that's preposterous.

The fresh air felt too real, the sound too loud, the texture of his tentacles too wet. So, where was he?

A loud, musical sound suddenly echoed across the city, spooking Chosen and making him want to run again.

Instead, he found himself following it as it transitioned into upbeat music until he saw the colossal screen on the tallest tower in the city. It showed a black and white circle, the background splashed with bright yellow, dark blue and pale grey.

Two words flashed across the screen: ANARCHY SPLATCAST.

Like a news broadcast? he thought.

The background vanished, revealing three people, a bright yellow-tentacled girl without circles, a dark blue one with them, and a pale grey and white manta ray.

Explains the colours.

"Listen up, it's going down," began the blue one, tapping her white fan against the wooden box in front of her. "Repping the Splatlands, we are DEEP CUT!"

"Anarchy Splatcast, we're live!" exclaimed the yellow one, throwing her fists into the air.

The other swung her fan to the left. "You lip-synch, we drip ink..."

The manta ray spoke for the first time. "Ay-ay-ay!" The subtitles read, 'Shiver, Frye and Big Man!'

"Ay-ay-ay, ay-ay-ay!"

'Breaking news, this just in!"

"Oh? Got something good for us, Big Man?" asked the blue one. Two pictures appeared on the screen, replacing the reporters. One was of the tower with a huge blue catfish-looking thing curled around it, whereas the other was just the tower, how it looked now.

"Ay-ay-ay-ay! Ay-ay-ay-ay-ay!"

'It's a disaster! The Great Zapfish is missing!'

"What?! Again?!" the yellow one - Frye - yelled incredulously.

"Well, there goes our power source," the blue one - Shiver - replied disappointedly.

Power source?

"Ay-ay-ay-ay!"

'Once again, call us if you find the Zapfish!'

Shiver stood up, tapping her fan against the wooden box. "And that's all the time we've got. From Splatsville, that's a wrap."

Frye stood up too, and they swung their hands in front of them, three fingers extended on each hand. "Catch ya later!"

The screen went black.

Power source...

Chosen thought he knew who could've taken it, but it was based off a heavy load of speculation.

If he was here, in this strange new world full of strange new creatures, was it a possibility that the others would be here too?

Dark, Second...

Victim.

He was the one who was the most obsessed with power that Chosen knew. If he was here too, then it was most likely that he had made off with this ginormous city's power source.

Not that he understood how a catfish could power a single mobile phone, let alone a city of this size, but if it did, and Victim had it, these people were going to suffer.

If he stood by and let that happen, he'd be no better than the catfish thief.

But we've only just escaped, a small voice complained inside his head. We can't be expected to save a whole city!

But didn't we promise to be better? another argued. Would you have us break that promise?

"Fuck," he muttered, running a hand through his tentacles.

He agreed with them both - on one hand, he was so, so tired, but on the other, he had to help.

He couldn't explain it, he just had to.

But where would he begin?

Chapter Text

Marie held the two cups of scalding hot coffee with as few fingers as she could manage, because her black gloves were not thick enough to protect against the heat.

One was for Gramps, and she'd thought she might as well pick herself one up while she was there.

Because a dehydrated floating squid casually purchasing coffee would raise more than its fair share of awkward questions, and she did not feel like dealing with that today.

"God knows why that stupid overweight bear had to dehydrate him in order to launch a rocket to space. And of course the Great Zapfish is missing again," she muttered to herself.

After all, DJ Octavio has our trust for helping take Mr Grizz out. Of course he'd take advantage of that. We were fools to not have anticipated this.

She started heading back towards the grate that would lead back down into Alterna.

But something made her pause.

Perhaps it was the unfamiliar Octoling that stood in the middle of the square, staring up at the now black screen that had hosted the Anarchy Splatcast mere moments ago. His tentacles were a dark onyx black, highlighted with red. His chin was in his hand, and he was seemingly lost in thought.

Was it possible that he knew where the Zapfish was?

Don't be stupid, she thought. He was clearly new to this turf. Probably had never even heard of DJ Octavio.

Those deep crimson eyes met hers, slightly wide with fear. She waved with an awkward grimace before transforming and hopping down into Alterna.

                                                - - - - -

Where was she going?

To Chosen, that woman seemed older, more mature, more serious than any of the young-looking people hanging around the square.

She looked important, with her white coat with the green slits, the black, fingerless gloves, the black boots, the short white tentacles. The tired looking eyes.

She looked like she'd be able to help him search for his older brother.

She lifted one of her hands and waved as he stared at her, then she...

Chosen rubbed his eyes, suddenly sure that he was dreaming.

Her body collapsed, ink sloshing around her, to form as a small white squid on the ground.

How in the actual FUCK did she do that?!

The squid slipped down through the orange-rimmed grate and out of view. Chosen hurried over, testing it with his foot.

He had to talk to her. Which meant he had to get down there.

As that last thought finished forming, his legs suddenly gave way like jelly, and he yelled with shock as he became smaller, thinner. His chest and legs were suddenly much more sensitive to every loose rock on the ground.

Huh.

Guess I can do that, too.

While it was new, and scary, and felt uncomfortably weird, it was also cool to know that he could become smaller at will. It must be one of the perks of being one of the strange people that lived here. If only he'd had this ability back home, he could've-

Then, Chosen was falling.

The diamond-shaped holes of the grate tickled his moist form as he fell through. He was in free fall, and as he instinctively tried to use his fire, his human form returned.

His fire didn't work

Why didn't his fire work?!

His scream was smothered by a face full of snow. It didn't taste like snow, though - oddly enough, it tasted lukewarm, not cold, and salty instead of watery. He spat it out and pushed himself up off the ground, brushing his tentacles out of his face.

That was going to be a pain in the-

"What's the matter, kid? Never slipped through a grate before?" a sarcastic voice called out.

He looked around for the source, noticing four figures up ahead. One was the white-clad woman he was following, one was a floating orange-brown squid, and the other two were the same species as the first, unfamiliar to him. The squid and the first woman both held a yellow cup of coffee; Chosen was surprised to learn that those thin strips of flesh hanging from the squid could hold anything.

He stood up, brushing the snow off his body, and walked over. "You could say that, yeah. That was my first time transforming at all."

She spat out her coffee, which didn't soak into the snow like it would normally. "Shut up."

"I'm serious. I didn't even know we could do that until I saw you do it." He stopped in front of the quartet. "But enough about that. I know who stole your Great Catfish or whatever, and I need help looking for him."

The squid spoke in a high-pitched voice. "Yeah, we know who stole it: that rascal DJ Octavio! He's stolen it twice - twice! - before! Last time, admittedly, was not him, but this time, oh yes, you can bet all your food tickets it was him."

The white one rolled her eyes at his undoubtedly confused expression. "Basically, some octopus chump stole our Zapfish after gaining our trust by saving the world."

"That's not what I'm confused about. You see, before I came here, I was fighting this guy who is kind of obsessed with power. He's teamed up with someone who is also obsessed with power. If anyone stole it, I bet it was them. And I'll help you find them."

The one on the left, with long black tentacles tipped with yellow, clapped her hands together excitedly. "Oh my cod, another agent already! So exciting!!!"

Chosen shook his head. "No, I don't want to be one of your agents, I need to find -"

"Well, unfortunately, we gave Agent 3 our last uniform," the squid interrupted.

"And our last Hero Shot," the white said.

"What's a -" he began.

"Oh wait, don't we have that Splatana?" the black asked.

Chosen didn't bother asking this time.

"Good point, Callie, hold on. Gramps, hold this." The squid took her coffee as she ran into the tall orange building behind them.

He cast about for something to say. "Who are you all, anyway?"

"I'm Callie," replied the black one. "This is the Captain." The one sat down to her right raised their hand in a peace sign. They wore a blue cap and yellow rags bearing different coloured patches. "That's Gramps - but you can call him Cuttlefish."

"Or Craig," suggested the squid.

"And that was my cousin Marie," she finished. "We're the NEW New Squidbeak Splatoon."

"Right," Chosen replied. He was completely lost, but didn't know where to begin.

Marie reappeared, carrying a thin, black long thing. The handle was round, with a limb extending out to the side, upward and then back again to be directly above it. Attached to that limb was a white, paintbrush-looking material. "Know what this is?" she asked.

He shook his head.

"I thought so. It's a Splatana Wiper. Know how to use it?"

He shook his head again.

"God fucking damn it, do you know anything?! No, don't answer that. Just give it a swing."

She handed over the Wiper. It was so light, he thought. It balanced perfectly in his hand. He flipped it so the white part - which black had seeped over to cover - was facing the ground.

"Well, at least you know how to hold it," Marie admitted.

"Well done!" said Callie.

He swung it, and a horizontal curve of black ink shot out in front of him before dissolving.

"You can swing vertically too."

He did so, charging forward and slashing upwards. This time the ink was vertical. He grinned. He was starting to get the hang of this.

He'd been holding it for a few seconds and yet he already loved the Wiper. Perhaps it was the lightweight feel of it, or maybe how it quickly cut through the air. Whatever it was, he was glad this had been his introduction into this kind of warfare.

"You hit someone with a fully charged shot with that and-" Callie flared her hands, mimicking an explosion.

"Where should I start searching?" asked Chosen. "I'm not familiar with these parts. Knowing Victim, he probably set up his operation in an ordinary building, hiding in plain sight. I doubt he's down here."

"Hmm. Maybe try searching the suburbs?" Marie suggested.

"You'll have to put that away, though," added her cousin. "It's illegal to carry a weapon around casually."

"Of course it is," he muttered.

Marie grinned. "Good luck with your search, Agent 5."

Chapter Text

An involuntary groan left Second as he opened his eyes, causing the pounding in his head to intensify. At least there was no bright light his eyes had to adjust to.

Bright light...

He remembered that light. That bright teal light that had formed between him and Victim.

He remembered the fight. Somehow activating his powers after being told that his friends were in danger.

But they hadn't been. They'd broken in to save him, and he remembered losing focus as he'd watched them with gratitude.

And then... there was nothing.

He sat up, eyes adjusting to his dark surroundings. Ahead of him was a line of broken-down ticket barriers, and black wires hung loosely from the ceiling. Around him, Red, Yellow, Green, Blue and Purple were laid on the ground, unconscious.

But... they looked different.

They had black masks connecting their eyes, and their hair looked slick with moisture. It was white on the inside, coloured on the outside, with lighter spots at the bottom.

Second's confusion transitioned into fear. What were they?

There was something about this place that made goosebumps crawl along his arms. Something seemed... off about it.

He got the impression that bad things happened here, and he didn't like it. Where even were they, anyway? Some kind of underground train station?

"Ugh... What happened...?"

He looked back around and noticed that Red was sat up, hand on his head. The others were starting to stir as well, sitting up, looking around in confusion.

Second's shoulders slumped with relief. They weren't dead.

"Hey, guys," he said.

Yellow's eyes narrowed and he adjusted his glasses, as if someone was off. "Sec?!"

"Yes...?"

"Sorry, you just look... um..."

"Different?" Red supplied.

"Definitely," Blue agreed.

He touched a hand to his face.

"No, your hair," Green whispered, touching his own before pulling it away in confusion. "What the hell?!"

Second felt his own. It was wet and... lumpy.

"Guys... Something tells me we're not at home anymore," said Purple.

"Yeah, why is our hair wet?" exclaimed Red.

"What are we?" muttered Yellow, looking down at his hands.

"Don't worry about that. For now I think we should just focus on getting out of here," Second replied. "This place gives me the creeps."

"Agreed," they agreed.

Second approached the line of ticket barriers, pushing on the metal bars. They didn't budge. Then he noticed the one on the far left was open. 

As they passed through it, a large domed ceiling took the place of the low tiled ceiling of the first area. They seemed to have arrived on some sort of huge train platform.

"Woah," Red murmured, seemingly in awe at the sheer size of it.

"Wait, what's that?" Yellow pointed at a tall pile of smashed glass and black plastic ahead of them, at the other end of the platform. It looked like the remnants of some great machine.

They hurried off towards it, their fascination with machinery no doubt overtaking, and the others followed, leaving Second to run after them.

He didn't like the idea of being separated from them down here. 

The wreckage seemed to have four major components: a thick, black disc, a four-pronged blade, a glass container of some sort, and a black base with a dial sticking out from it. Yellow twisted the dial and, when nothing happened, twisted it the other way. Still, nothing happened.

"Looks like some sort of massive blender," Blue commented. 

Yellow tilted their head, studying it curiously. "I think you're right, you know."

Second noticed a smaller, white device beside the pile, with a red control stick and a singular button. "What's this?"

Red knelt beside it, reaching for it.

"Oh no you don't," said Green, grabbing his friend's arm. "Remember what happened last time you touched a strange device?"

"Oh, c'mon Green, that was ages ago!" he whined.

Yellow snatched it up, and almost dropped it in surprise as a huge blue square appeared in front of them, colourful lines marked with different stations curving under and over each other in an intricate pattern that Second couldn't understand. In the top corner, an option said: RESET MAP?

Yellow fumbled with the control stick and selected it. The device reset itself, and by the time it was done, the map only had one line, the yellow one. It told them they were at Central Station.

Second patted Yellow on the back. "Nice job, Yel."

They pushed the stick up again, and it switched from "The promised land awaits!" Central Station" to "Looks like the real thing..." Fake Plastic Station".

"Fake Plastic Station?" asked Green. Yellow shrugged their shoulders and selected the new station.

Nothing happened.

"Um, is a train supposed to appear or something?" Red leaned over the edge of the platform, peering down the dark tunnel to their left.

A train whistle echoed up from those dark depths, and Green barely pulled Red back in time as a train sped towards them before slowing to a stop with an awful sound.

"For God's sake, Red."

"What?! I was just checking!"

"You nearly died!"

Their arguing was interrupted by the loud sound of the trains's doors sliding open."

"Welcome to the Deepsea Metro," a high-pitched voice sounded from inside the train. Second peered in, confused. He saw no one.

A sigh. "Down here."

Second looked down and realized that he was stood on a small, dark blue piece of jelly wearing a conductor's hat. "Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't see you there."

"Clearly. All aboard."

The six of them exchanged cautious glances before boarding the train.

As they all sat down, he asked, "Where are we? And, uh, what - who are you?"

The blue blob looked at up him with what he imagined would be frustration if it had eyes. "My name is CQ-Cumber. And you are in the Deepsea Metro. I take it you don't know how you got here, or what to do next?"

"We just woke up down here." Purple crossed her arms defensively.

"Just like the last one," CQ-Cumber muttered to itself. "It's quite a surprise to see a group of Inklings down here, however."

"Inklings?" asked Yellow, frowning.

"Yes. Usually we just see your kind down here - that is, Octolings." It directed that comment to Second.

"Oh, that's why you look different to us," exclaimed Blue. "You're a different species, by the sound of it. Am I right?"

"Indeed. Well, in that case, you'll be wanting to head to the surface, correct?"

The surface! They'd probably reunite with Chosen if they made it up there.

"Yes," Second replied, his voice firm.

"Then your mission will be to complete the tests at the different stations, as they will lead you to the elevator that shall take you there. I believe our destination now is-"

The train began to slow down with an ear-splitting screech, until it stopped completely. The doors slid open.

"- Station A05, Fake Plastic Station," Cumber finished. "After you."

The group hopped off the train.

"What now?" asked Red.

"Now you must select one of you to do the test, as only one is allowed in, and receive a weapon from the equipper in front of you."

"What kind of weapon?" asked Blue excitedly. "I hope it's a bow!"

"What's a bow?"

Her jaw dropped.

"No, the only available weapon for this test is the Splattershot, a rapid-fire shot-class gun, paired with the Splat Bomb subweapon."

"I'm sorry," began Red, "but what the actual hell are those?"

CQ-Cumber was definitely getting pissed now. "Just use the damn equipper."

"Right, who wants to do the test?" asked Green. Everyone shook their heads.

"I think Blue should do it because she has the most experience out of all of us at shooting things," said Red.

"What - no! Red should do it! He's the bravest out of all of us!"

"I'm not, Green should do it!"

The sound of them arguing made Second want to bang his head as hard as he could against the metal side of the train. "Oh my God - I'll do it, since you lot won't decide." As he stepped onto the raised circle in front of him, a tube shot up from the ground, enclosing him.

An image of the Splattershot appeared on the screen, and he selected it. It dispensed the weapon into his hands and disappeared, leaving him stood there, confused.

He held up the weapon -

"You're holding it backwards," said Cumber. "Have you even held a Splattershot before?"

He adjusted his grip. "No...?"

"Then I'm assuming you don't know that you can transform into a mini octopus to refill your ink?"

Second's jaw dropped this time. "No! How do I do that, then?!"

"I don't know! I don't have that ability."

Second tested the weapon. It shot out a glob of orange ink. It had decent range, too.

And as he was wondering how to 'transform', his body suddenly collapsed and he found himself surrounded by a world of orange.

"I guess that's how," quipped Purple.

Second was terrified. How had he done that? And how did he go back?

He stood up, his human form returned.

Huh.

"Just step through the gate to begin the test." Cumber sounded like it couldn't wait to be rid of Second.

"Good luck, Sec," called Green as he approached the gate in question.

He took a deep breath and stepped through.

Chapter Text

The gate launched Second forward, the momentum forcing him into a roll.

The station seemed to be set in a foggy forest, but the trees looked too shiny, too bouncy to be real.

"That explains the name," he muttered to himself.

He moved forward cautiously, Splattershot raised, finger on the trigger. The atmosphere out here was even more wrong than that of the platform.

He wondered if he'd encounter any more 'Inklings' or 'Octolings'.

The brick walls, coated in a thick layer of glass, were mossy and covered in stickers, crumbling in places. This place was losing its shine, no doubt about that.

An eerie laugh snapped him out of his thoughts. He looked up, seeing a tall pillar built out of the same bricks. And atop that pillar was a figure.

They had pale, mint-green skin, dark blue tentacles highlighted with bright turquoise, and black sunglasses that had a red glow about them.

"Target sighted."

As he watched, they leapt from the top of the pillar, performed a series of front flips and landed in front of him.

He stumbled backwards in shock, pointing his weapon at them, but something stopped him from pulling the trigger. 

Perhaps it was the fact that they were another living being. He'd watched the Dark Lord murder his friends right in front of him, and he couldn't put someone else through the terror he'd felt.

His older siblings might be able to kill without guilt, but Second wasn't like them. That had become clear long ago.

They used the curved end of their own weapon to knock his out of his hands, and he backed away, his hands raised.

His back met the smooth trunk of a tree.

They pulled the trigger, their ink stinging his face, and suddenly Second was back at the start, Splattershot back in his hands.

"What... What just happened?"

"You respawned," called out Cumber. "Don't let your enemy corner you this time."

"So what, you want me to just shoot them?!" he retorted angrily.

"Yes." It sounded exasperated. "You won't be able to pass the test unless you defeat them."

"Try and find another way around!" suggested Yellow.

Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.

He moved forward, this time sprinting around the brick pillar. As he passed it, a huge pair of metal double doors came into view, adorned with bars and the heads of bolts.

He threw his full weight against them, but they wouldn't budge. He turned around and saw his enemy inking a turquoise path towards him.

He frantically grabbed one of the bars, pulling himself up off the ground, and began climbing. Shots of ink bounced off the metal around him, and a few hit his legs, but he didn't stop until he reached the top.

A triangular bomb landed beside him.

Nope!

He tried to scurry away, and ended up slipping over the edge of the doors.

He landed on his back on the other side. Hard.

But at least he hadn't had to take their life.

Second sighed with relief, then noticed two figures identical to the one he'd just escaped, carrying weapons he didn't recognize.

They both aimed at him, and he quickly got to his feet. He barely got out of the way in time.

Through the fog, he could make out an identical pair of doors, and a pile of crates to their left.

Ducking and dodging as he went, he pushed the crates in front of the doors and began to stack them in a straight, vertical line.

His foes began shooting the crates.

"No! Don't!" he shouted foolishly, waving his arms. His stack of crates wobbled precariously.

Shit, shit, SHIT!

He didn't want to have to fight them.

He bent down and, with as much power as he could manage, jumped upwards. 

His fingers barely reached the top, but they did, and he pulled himself up, chest heaving.

Too close.

He hopped down, expecting more enemies, but instead, all he saw was a strange, floating, metal rod that glowed light blue. "Umm... what now?"

"Shoot it," replied Cumber.

He did so, and as he touched it, he found himself suddenly back on the train. His weapon was gone, too.

"You did it!" Blue smothered him in a hug.

"Well done," said Cumber, "but you can't avoid your enemies. In some of these tests, it is impossible to move forward without splatting them. Some are timed, and you fail without shooting them."

"Well then we'll just have to get someone else to do those ones," Green replied angrily. "We're just kids - of course we're not gonna want to kill people!"

Cumber sighed. "Very well."

Yellow pulled out the device that had the map. The line had extended, to include a new station on either side of the one Second had just cleared.

"Hey, talking sea slug, what's a Baller?" they asked. The objective of station A04 was to "get to the goal in the Baller before time runs out".

"A Baller is an example of a special weapon. It is an inflatable ball that you run around in, with the option to explode in a huge blast of ink."

"Sounds cool!" said Red, rubbing his hands together.

"Guess we're going there then," replied Yellow, selecting the Roll Out Station.

The train started moving again.

Chapter Text

Victim didn't have his powers in this strange new city. That had soon become apparent after he had woken up.

Dark has also been stripped of her powers, much to her own wrath. At least she has those Burst Bomb things to fuck around with to keep her distracted.

Victim had, too, been angry at the instant removal of his newfound power, and if he had kept it, stealing the Great Zapfish would have been much, much easier.

Now, he watched as the Octoling soldiers secured the Zapfish into a machine that he'd ordered them to build in a pit in the ground, resting against the metal railing.

It had been quite easy to hack into the mind-controlling shades they wore, and change their orders so that they served him instead of whoever they had previously.

Strangely, the Great Zapfish offered no resistance. In fact, the only signs of life it showed were to breathe and to blink. He found this slightly perplexing - after all, it had been kidnapped by a strange person and was being forced into a strange contraption.

Not that he was complaining. If, at any point during its retrieval, it had chosen to weaponize the vast amount of electricity that pumped through its body, his mission would have been much more difficult.

Soon after he'd woken up, he had noticed that he was also an Octoling - not that he had known what they were called at the time - and was mostly just confused.

Where was he, why did he look different, and where were his captives?

But after Dark had woken up, they'd... asked for more information from a random person in the street.

Dark hadn't taken the news of their evident world-hopping very well.

He felt a slight smile creep along his face at the memory of that green splat mark on the ground.

Three knocks echoed around the vast chamber, and Victim stood up straight, turning. "Enter."

Agent Smith strode through the door. Being an Inkling suited him. His usual full head of brown hair was now a half-shaved head of grey tentacles, tipped with a blue-grey, that were barely chin-length.

The others, who were also Inklings, followed, but it was Smith who spoke.

"I have news for you, sir."

Victim nodded and motioned for him to come closer. He did so, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a few pieces of paper. "What is it, Agent?"

"We received this proof today from the Octoling troops that The Chosen One, the orange kid and his friends are all here as well." He held out the pieces of paper, and Victim took them. Two were of The Chosen One, running down a street, and three were of the others on a train, a strange device in the orange one's hand.

Shit.

This was bad.

If they were running free, then there was an almost certain possibility that they would be searching for him. They'd probably want to return the Great Zapfish too, after the broadcast that stated that they needed it back.

And he had not been strong enough to survive the ordeal his Creator had put him through, suffer the loss of Mitsi, and now been forced to adapt to this strange new world and climbed that tall tower to take their power source just to fail.

Life had been cruel to him, and he had come out on the other side. He would not let that go to waste.

Then again... Maybe it was a good thing. Now that he thought about it, he needed his brothers for the execution of his plan...

"Thank you for letting me know. Now, I have another task for you."

"Sir?"

"I want you to bring them all to me. I don't care in what condition, as long as they're alive."

Agent saluted. "Yes, sir."

Then they departed, leaving Victim alone with his thoughts.

He was surprised that he had agreed. After all, they no longer had access to their toolbars, nor their individual abilities. It must be at least a little unsettling, despite how skilled they were.

But he wasn't one to question their loyalty.

Chapter Text

Agent Smith led his fellow Mercenaries towards the back door of the building, exchanging a few curt nods with the Octolings who lingered around as he went.

Not that he knew where to even begin searching for the Chosen One and the orange kid, but they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

The sun was currently positioned in front of the building, painting the back alley in shadow. Agent still had to get used to the warm weather here - he hadn't so much as seen an angy-looking cloud since their arrival. The worst weather he'd experienced so far was a gentle breeze.

The photos had depicted The Chosen One on a street in the suburbs, so they headed in the general direction of the exit of the town square. This place was pretty chaotic, he thought - busy and vast and dominated by skyscrapers so tall that a few were obscured by what few clouds drifted by.

After a while, Ballista asked the question he had been pondering. "So where are we going? Are we just walking aimlessly, or...?"

Agent noted the frustration in his tone, and he couldn't disagree with it. They had been walking for a good while now, with the sun beating down upon them and no idea where to begin searching.

It wasn't like last time; last time, they had had their target's blazing path of destruction to lead them right to him. This time, however, they had been dumped into a huge city that they were extremely unfamiliar with, and the only leads they had were the backgrounds of the pictures brought to them by the brainwashed Octolings.

He reminded himself that they weren't just after the black hollow-head. They had to find the orange one and his friends, too. It might be best to split up.

"Alright, here's the plan. You two -" he pointed at Ballista and Hazard "- find a way underground and search for the orange hollow-head and the colourful full-heads. Primal, you will stay with me out here, we'll search for The Chosen One."

Ballista shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

"Where do we start, though?" asked Hazard.

"Unfortunately, I don't know. But surely, if we were all transported here from the same location, then a way underground can't be too far away."

"You could always try asking the civilians for directions," suggested Primal. "And it's not like we're unarmed."

This was true. They'd found some strange objects lying around the base that they'd been informed were weapons. Not proper weapons, but a single splatter of ink that was a different colour to yours in this world could cause serious damage, and these weapons shot out ink. 

Agent had an umbrella that was attached to a rifle - the black, transparent umbrella acted as an ink shield, and the rifle had reminded him of his gun back home.

Primal possessed a bow that could be charged. It also shot out three explosive capsules of ink that could stick to surfaces and enemies, which she had thought a significant upgrade to her old bow.

Ballista wielded a mini gun-type weapon that also had to be charged, which took a while, but had a high rate of fire and long range, which he had considered an acceptable replacement for the loss of all his other weapons.

Hazard wielded a rolling paintbrush with a wide coverage and could fling ink at a long range. 

The two pairs split up, with Hazard and Ballista turning off to the right while Agent and Primal headed straight on. They continued in silence, both watching their surroundings carefully.

The busy roads were gradually replaced with streets that looked familiar to the one in The Chosen One's pictures, but not identical.

Doubts started to clog his mind, much to his surprise. He wasn't usually one to question himself; he just got the job done.

Then again, what was usual about this situation?

Would they even be able to find their target? Surely black was a common tentacle colour, and this place was so big, he could be anywhere!

If we were all transported here from the same location, a way underground can't be too far away...

That's right. That's what he'd told Hazard. Their target couldn't be too far away.

But, still...

"Do you think we'll be able to find him?" Agent was shocked to hear himself ask. "He could be anywhere."

Primal remained silent for a while, seemingly lost in thought.

"Yes," she replied slowly. "Yes, we can. We did before. We always find some way to complete our missions."

He nodded. "Right. But... don't you think this is different?"

"Why would it be different? We're still hunting The Chosen One."

"Yeah, but last time was easier. We're familiar with Stick City. We had way more leads last time -"

"We'll find him," she interrupted, voice somehow both firm yet reassuring. "And besides, the knowledge of my superior senses should be enough to put your mind at ease."

Was that... a joke? Was Primal joking with him?

"I can't tell if you're messing around or not."

She bared her fangs at him in her impression of a grin.

                                               - - - - -

They had been walking for a while now, and Ballista was starting to feel impatience with the lack of a way underground.

"Surely there's supposed to be a staircase or a... a ladder or something?" he muttered.

"It is most likely," replied his partner, Hazard. "We just have to keep searching. I have faith we'll find it."

"Well, I don't," he grumbled.

The sun was starting to sink behind the horizon, and Ballista was pretty sure he could hear the sound of the ocean in the distance. They were still in the main city, tall towers surrounding them like a futuristic interpretation of an ancient forest. 

Try asking the civilians for directions...

He remembered Primal's advice. It was good advice. She usually gave good advice, considering that she was the oldest of them all and was naturally gifted at hunting down her prey.

It was why Ballista liked her so much; she had taught him a lot since they had been put in the same group after the Merc tryouts.

He noticed a pair of young-looking Octolings walking down the shop-lined road, laughing at something on their arrow-shaped phone.

"Hey, they might know where to go," he said, pointing.

Hazard nodded. "Good shout."

They crossed over and approached them. They both looked up from the phone, their expressions suddenly nervous.

"What do you want?" the one on the left asked, a girl with lilac-coloured tentacles.

"To tell us we're not welcome?" asked the other, a boy with bright magenta tentacles.

"No," replied Hazard.

"We just need you to tell us how to get underground," said Ballista.

"U-Underground?" the lilac one stuttered.

"Why do you want to get down there?" asked the magenta, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"We're looking for a group of people who are evidently down there," replied Hazard, voice steady.

"Riiiiiiight. Well, if you must know, if you keep going that way -" he pointed in the direction they'd previously been heading in "- you'll reach the sea. If you turn right and look closely, you'll see a circular trapdoor on a black platform that leads down to the elevator that will take you deeper, to where you want to go."

Hazard thanked him, and the two pairs continued in their own direction.

"Well that was easy," commented Ballista as the sounds of waves breaking came closer.

Hazard hummed his agreement. As the second oldest of the group, he didn't tend to speak much, whereas Ballista, the youngest, talked a lot.

"Is it just me, or do the Octolings seem more shy than the Inklings?" he remarked. "Like, the Inklings are more talkative, but the Octolings just seem to want to keep to themselves."

"Perhaps you're right."

The sea came into view, the pale orange-yellow sun casting its bright light over the gentle ripples of the waves and painting it a beautiful dark orange. And a little way off to the right, just like that kid had said, was a small platform bearing a circular trapdoor.

"Hm? What's this?" muttered Hazard, drawing his partner's attention away from the small island.

"What's wha -"

And then he saw it.

The huge statue of a human man with curly hair, half submerged in the ocean. The right eye - their left - was a dark opening.

"Wonder what happened there," mused Hazard.

"Forget about that. For now we should focus on reaching that ladder."

"My mistake, you are correct. Do you reckon we'd be able to pull off a... what was it called... a 'Super Jump'?"

A Super Jump, or so they'd been told, was a manouver where you transformed into a squid, then jump where you wanted to go. It had a lot more range and height than a regular jump, apparently.

Ballista nodded. "Let's do this."

Chapter Text

Chosen had been walking all of the previous day and all of today, yet still, he had found nothing. He was on a street that looked identical to the ones he'd already passed, tall apartment blocks peeking over the roofs of the houses.

That's not unusual, he thought to himself. He couldn't be expected to find what he was looking for in two days. Especially when he knew that it'd be well hidden. He'd been trying not to let his impatience get to him.

At least he was finally free. That knowledge had quelled it somewhat. It was nice to roam around freely, on his own accord, without having to destroy anything or fight anyone. Even if he didn't have his powers anymore.

The sun had set, and the first stars had started blinking in the aegean sky, bringing with them the peace and quiet Chosen had learned to associate with night.

He had always preferred this time of day, when the world went to sleep, and he could just relax. He had been fond of lying atop his and Dark's roof at night, watching the stars wink at him from above. Sometimes she had joined him, but more often than not, he'd snuck out when she had already fallen asleep.

Dark...

After the showdown, he had found himself yearning for what they had had before. She had been the first one in this cruel world he'd ever gotten along with, even if their relationship had had a bit of a bumpy start.

It had been fun at first, wreaking havoc on all those websites, exercising their newfound freedom, but after a while, it had lost its novelty, and Chosen had begun to feel guilty at all the lives they'd taken.

And, no matter how much he'd loved her, he couldn't allow her to go through with her plan concerning the Virabots.

And now she'd teamed up with Victim.

It had been quite a shock to see her still alive after what Second had hit her with, and Chosen had hoped they could have tried again. Live as normal siblings.

But it seemed she had other ideas.

Lost in his thoughts, he felt himself collide with something. No, someone, he realized as they stumbled backwards.

"Sorry -"

His apology died on his tongue as he took in that half-shaved head of white and black tentacles, those rectangular sunglasses. And the one behind him, with long, brown tentacles. At a glance, he almost wrote them off as strangers. However...

"Greetings, Chosen One," the white one said. "Any chance of you coming quietly this time?"

He took a step back, unpleasant memories clouding his head. The relentless chase. Those awful pixel guns. And the shock pins...

"I'd argue there's an even smaller chance now that I know your boss just wants to beat the ever-loving shit out of me," he retorted, drawing his Splatana Wiper.

He sighed. "That is to be expected." The pair of them drew their own weapons, an umbrella and a bow.

"What are you going to do, whack me with that umbrella?"

Agent raised the thick canopy of the umbrella. It snapped open with a metallic clack, a shield of hardened plastic. Beside him, Primal raised her bow, aiming directly between his eyes.

Chosen hefted his Wiper, raising it in a defensive stance. He knew from last time that these guys were powerful. But, like last time, he wasn't going down without a fight.

“However, our orders are to bring you to Victim. So you'll be coming with us, whether you want to or not.”

“Try me.”

Primal didn't wait. She pulled on the string of her bow.  Three glowing arrows of brown ink shot out, leaving sizzling trails in the air. Chosen barely had time to react, bringing the Wiper up in a cross-guard. The ink exploded in a shower of sticky droplets.

The force of the impact staggered him, and a hot, searing pain erupted as a splatter of ink caught his left arm. He bit back a shout.

He charged forward, spinning the his weapon in a devastating horizontal arc, a wave of onyx splashing toward the pair. Agent’s Brella deflected the majority of the blast, but Primal had to leap backward to avoid getting inked.

"Hold him steady!" Primal yelled, already charging her next shot.

Agent rushed Chosen, the Brella now used as a battering ram. Chosen tried to parry, but his foe's weapon was solid. It smashed into his ribs with a sickening crunch. He gasped, the wind knocked out of him, and stumbled back against a wooden fence. 

This isn't working.

As he fought to draw breath, Primal's second shot landed. It was a perfectly placed, full-charged blast. The three ink arrows struck Chosen squarely in the chest.

The impact was catastrophic. A flash of brown, a suppressed cry of pain, and Chosen was thrown backward through the air, skidding across the road until he slammed into another fence.

Agent advanced, pointing the rifle attached to the umbrella at him in a menacing threat that didn't go unnoticed. “Stay down, Chosen One. It’ll be faster.”

Chosen knew he couldn't afford to lose focus, so he tried his best to ignore the blinding pain from his ribs.

"Agent 5!" came Marie's voice through the headset she'd given him. "What's going on over there!"

"Things... aren't looking good," he replied, wincing with pain.

Agent smirked. "You got that right."

"Use your special weapon!" Callie yelled, her voice dripping with panic.

My special weapon...

They'd told him about this. If he focused hard enough...

What little ink he'd shot out during the conflict rose up off the ground, returning to his hands. His head began to pound with the effort of controlling it, but he stayed focused, manipulating it, moulding it. It took the shape of a larger, elongated weapon.

Agent halted his approach. "What are you-"

He had a split second to recognize the form of Chosen's Trizooka. He frantically tried to deploy the full protective shield of the Brella, but it wasn't fast enough or strong enough.

The first shot hit the Brella, shattering it into a thousand pieces and sending Agent flying into the wall of a nearby house with a thunderous CRASH. The second hit Primal right in the chest, exploding in a blinding flash of black ink that caused her to join her partner.

Chosen dropped the Trizooka, the phantom weapon dissolving as quickly as it had appeared. He was swaying, barely able to keep his knees from buckling as he approached the pair.

The wall was covered in Chosen's ink, which he felt a bit bad about, but surely, in a city like this, they must have many ways to fix that.

The pair were on the ground, leaning heavily against the wall. Chosen pointed the end of his Wiper at them.

“V-Victim,” he wheezed. “Where is he?”

He didn't get an answer.

With a shared, urgent nod, Agent and Primal collapsed into their squid forms.

Before Chosen could take another step, they launched themselves skyward, vanishing in twin streaks of white and brown.

“NO!” Chosen yelled, the word dissolving into a coughing fit, but it was pointless. They were gone.

He looked in the direction they had gone, the part of the city that wasn't quite the center, but wasn't close to the outside, either.

He took one more halting step before the world tilted. The severe loss of ink - blood - whatever from his injuries, the broken ribs, the sheer exertion of the Trizooka—it was too much. His vision tunneled.

He collapsed onto the cold, ink-soaked path, his eyes still fixed on the horizon, his mission the last thing on his mind before the darkness claimed him.

Chapter Text

"Well done, Purple!" congratulated Red as she arrived back on the platform. 

She had hesitated at her first enemy, but with some words of encouragement from Green, had found her way forward. It had been an Inkjet test, which seemed to be this world's version of a jetpack, so naturally, she had volunteered to do it.

Blue patted her on the back as she boarded the train, smiling reassuringly. Blue was starting to get sick of the seemingly endless list of test platforms, and the dark interior of the train. When she looked out of the windows, the only thing she could make out amid the sea of gloom were the blurred silhouettes of dead trees, and it was starting to do her head in.

Homesickness had begun to haunt her, more than she'd ever felt before. She missed how full of fun and peace their days used to be, safe on the computer. She missed not having to constantly look over her shoulder, thinking that, at any second, she was about to be attacked.

At least they were all back together again, though, and Blue was incredibly grateful for that. It had felt so strange, and so wrong, to have been separated from Second, and then Yellow, for that long.

A hideous sound came from her right, informing her that the doors were closing, but suddenly, it stopped. The Inklings exchanged glances, confused. When they still didn't move, Yellow approached them, frowning.

"What's going on?" they muttered to themself.

Blue leaned around, trying to catch a glimpse, wondering the same thing.

The round end of a Roller, coated in blue-grey ink, pushed its way into the tiny gap, forcing the doors open even wider.

"Hate to interrupt," boomed a familiar voice, "but you won't be reaching your next destination."

Everyone else stood up, their stances defensive. There was something about that voice that made it sound very hostile.

Two Inklings pushed their way into the train; a tall, broad-shouldered blue-grey one who wielded the Roller, and a short white one whose tentacles were slightly square at the end. He wielded a heavy-looking Splatling.

"What gives you that impression?" Red demanded, his tone bursting with defiance, his fists raised.

"Because you'll be coming with us instead," replied the short one, raising his weapon.

Blue suddenly realized why they sounded familiar. "You're the ones who took Yellow and Second from us before, aren't you?" she asked, voice cold.

"And if we are?" asked the tall one, sounding almost bored.

"You won't be making that mistake again," she spat. 

He sighed. "Ever the dramatic ones -"

She slammed her fist into his face. 

The impact was solid, the sickening crunch of cartilage echoing in the small space of the train car. He stumbled back with a grunt of pain, dropping the heavy Dynamo Roller momentarily to clutch his bleeding nose.

“You little-” he growled, the boredom instantly replaced with rage.

His partner had already charged his Splatling and opened fire. The heavy weapon whirred to life, spitting a dense spray of white ink that splattered the walls and covered the seats.

Blue didn’t need to be told twice. She ducked low and twisted, the ink showering the wall where her head had been moments before. She heard Red shouting his battle cry as he launched himself at him, tackling the smaller Inkling’s legs before the Splatling could wind up to full power again. As they both fell to the ground, he lost control of the remainder of the charge, the ink splattering the ceiling and the opposite wall.

Second sped towards the other, kicking the dropped Dynamo Roller away from him, sending it skittering across the train floor. 

Blue, already moving, pivoted on her heel and drove a quick, sharp kick into its owner's ribs, hearing a muffled oof as he doubled over. She didn't have time to celebrate; a barrage of charged shots from the Splatling whistled past her head. The shorter Inkling was on his back, but his aim, even while downed, was terrifyingly accurate.

She glanced to the side. Green and Purple were working together, one keeping the white one distracted with a flurry of feints while the other darted in to land sharp, precise blows. Green’s movements were fluid and quick, while Purple's were powerful, evidently and effectively weakening their opponent.

Red was back up, trading blows with the tall one, who was recovering fast despite his injuries. The train car was a chaotic blur of motion. Though unarmed, the six of them were relentless, their combined, focused assault wearing down the heavily armed mercenaries. Every hit they landed—a punch, a kick, a well-placed shove—was calculated. They would not be separated again.

As Blue turned again, a flash of movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention, making the ink in her veins run cold.

The white had managed to escape Green and Purple's assault and had redirected his aim towards Yellow, firing at them as he slowly approached. 

Yellow was cornered.

Trying to reach them. Being blocked by that thick stick. Seeing their desperate, yet futile, attempts to reach her as she was hit with that stick. Being slammed against the side of that huge van again and again. Too weak to move, too helpless to do anything but watch as they were dragged away. Being left with the knowledge that she'd failed them -

A tremendous burst of white ink erupted from the Splatling. He had charged the heavy weapon to its maximum, and the spray, thicker than before, slammed into Blue’s left side like a physical hammer.

The force threw her violently against the side of the train car. The ink felt like fire against her skin, stinging and spreading. She cried out with pain, but she wouldn't allow that to happen again.

She wouldn't fail Yellow again.

She tried to stand up, but her limbs were sluggish, pain digging its claws into them and holding them back no matter how much she tried.

And then, suddenly, a rough hand landed firmly on her arm in a grip of iron and pulled her up off the ground.

"Ballista! Enough! We take this one. Leave the others!"

"No!" she cried as he dragged her towards the doors, towards the black abyss that was the Deepsea Metro.

"Blue!" Yellow cried, extending a hand out towards her. She pulled against the Merc's hold, reaching out her free hand. At the panicked shout of her name, the others joined them, but it wasn't enough.

The doors of the train slid shut.

"No! Let me go!" She writhed and twisted, but still, her captor didn't let go.

"Hold still," he growled.

Pain exploded at the back of her head, and the darkness consumed her.