Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The cloaked, hidden figure, with her dark green jacket and black, spandex mask that covered her entire head, kept her finger trained on the trigger of her charger. She had a tight grip and steady breath; Deep inhale, then soft exhale. She saw the world through the lens of her charger's scope, overlooking the alleyways of the quiet, isolated Port Mackerel in Inkopolis from her vantage point atop the large, green container. Finally, the three trucks she was watching out for slowly drove into view within the alleyways below her.

The first truck drove slowly and quietly until they found a place to park, and up to six Inkling men, in black suits, got out. In response, the next two trucks drove up a moment later from the opposite end of the lane, parking in such a way that they faced each other, and the next Inklings, in gray suits, got out.

Two of these Inklings, one from each of these different parties, walked toward each other and met each other halfway through the walkway.

"Your price is too steep." The black-suited man told the other.

"It's the cost of the changing turf war." The gray-suited man, with a cigarette in his mouth, replied. "The Hodgson Syndicate is pretty much gone, and their territory is up for grabs. I don't even wanna know whatever the hell is going on with those Senators. Or that manhunt that's going nowhere. But if you're really gonna be insistent… we can bring it as low as 10 million."

Even hearing his lowered price, the black-suited men glanced at each other and let out annoyed sighs.

"Do you want the stuff or not?" The gray-suited man continued as he took the stick out and exhaled all the smoke.

The black-suited men hesitated before they went back to their trucks, and soon came over with large bags of cash. In response, the gray-suited man motioned to his own cronies, who turned and opened up their own trucks. This revealed the entire rows of weaponry and gear inside, which some of the black-suited men came over to look through. There was Ammo Knights weaponry, and specialized New Squidbeak Splatoon gear, with bits of Octarian technology that were worth millions in the black market.

As one of these men leaned forward to study it all, he reached forward to feel some of it, making sure he was looking at the real deal… before he was suddenly splatted as a line of white ink struck him.

Just like that, chaos erupted in a violent shoot-out as these two different gangs turned on each other and opened fire on each other with their different ink colors, stepping back an taking cover behind their own trucks. The black-suited men, however, were halted from their escape as more white charger shots rained down on them, splatting them instantly one-by-one.

In the chaos, a couple of these gray-suited men were able to close in on the large bags of money that were left on the ground in the panic, and grabbed them with tight grips before they ran back to their own trucks. "Go! Go!"

The hidden, masked sniper watched through her scope as these gray-suited men successfully escaped back to their own trucks, where they slammed their doors shut and started driving away with all of the money and the gear. Before the black-suited men could give chase, she again opened fire, splatting them with her white ink.

She jumped as one of these escaping trucks suddenly exploded from underneath and collapsed onto its side, before grinding into a yellow container in a fiery spectacle. Another explosion went off in the street, this time missing its target, which allowed the other truck space to drive away.

The sniper frantically pivoted her scope to find where the explosions were coming from, and finally spotted the suited Giant Isopod man that stood on-top the black container on the opposite side of the alley, with a grenade launcher gun in just one of his six different arms. As she fired some of her own shots at him to distract him, with her ink doing nothing against his tough shell, it only took a moment for him to turn and locate the source of her shots. He turned his grenade launcher in her direction.

The sniper was forced to transform to her Squid-form and super-jump out of the way as a grenade hurled at her and exploded instantly upon contact, destroying the container she perched on. As the container gave out, it collapsed onto the pavement below, even at the cost at crushing the screaming black-suited cronies below.

As smoke and sparks filled the air, the Giant Isopod walked down the container he stood on to get a better look at the scene below. Just like that, the deal had gone completely south; The sniper figure had gotten away, and the gray-suited men had just escaped with all of that gear, and 10 million of his money. A loss that would certainly set him back in the ongoing turf war. He clenched his arms together in fury as he overlook the situation, absolutely yet silently seething.

Now, the question was: Who would he go to to resolve this?

Operation 4

The white-skinned Inkling Dylan Schultz, with his green, slicked-back hair, a nice black suit and green tie on, and his winning yet somewhat awkward, dorky smile, was doing his absolute best to keep his cool as he stared on at the interviewer at the desk ahead of him. With his hands together, and an unstraight posture he couldn't quite get right as he adjusted his butt and his legs in his seat, he didn't dare take his eyes off of the interview, or wipe that smile from his face, even if the interviewer wasn't returning it.

The interviewer would glance from his computer, then at him, only to be met with Dylan's unbreaking smile. After a moment, he nodded. "This is… quite the resume, Mr. Schultz."

Dylan held his finger forward. "Quite in a good way, am I right?"

"Yeah, I just have-" He held his own finger up, briefly hesitating. "A few questions about that."

Again, Dylan nervously adjusted himself. "Great, the questions are what I'm here for, so, ask away."

The interviewer glanced back at the computer, clicking back onto and scrolling through his resume. "It says here that you worked at the Krusty Shack for three weeks until you got fired for, and I quote: 'Hissing racial and sexual slurs, among other swears, in the presence of customers, including young children.'" He turned back to him. "Can you explain that?"

"That-" Dylan awkwardly chuckled, holding his hand forward. "T-That was a flub. Or, I should say, a big, big misinterpretation. I-I think that they drastically misheard what I was actually saying, as it does say that I was, you know, hissing, and… I'm actually a pretty clean-mouthed guy, when you get to know me." He desperately nodded, loudly clearing his throat. "So, you know, I-I wouldn't worry about that."

The interviewer looked back at the computer. "It also says you got terminated from Grizzco Industries for unlisted reasons, which is… I'll be honest, I didn't even know that was possible."

"We had…" With sweat building on his forehead, Dylan again put his hands together, squeezing them. "D-Different interests, overall, and we, in the end, decided it was best to part." He nodded.

"Uh-huh." The interview nodded with clear insincerity. "Ok. I'd also like to ask you about what's not on your resume, if that's quite alright. And I hope you'll answer honestly."

"Of… course." He gulped.

"When were you planning on letting me know that as far as just over a year ago, you were Agent 4?" He looked him dead in the eye. "For the New Squidbeak Splatoon?"

Dylan froze. God dammit, he thought. As per usual, he had no idea how to really talk himself out of this. "Can I ask… where this is coming from?"

"I do thorough research on everyone we hire, Mr. Schultz. Even if it requires looking through the Splatoon leaks that happened a couple years ago."

Dylan sighed, giving up. "Yeah, uh… I was Agent 4, for a good few years, but… the job wasn't really for me. It just… I wanted to do something different, genuinely different with my life, and find other ways to help people, and I just…" He sighed again, thinking. "I just really need a job like this, to help straighten my life out. To help pay the bills. I promise you, that whole, Agent 4, Splatoon thing… it's the old me. It's in a past life, and I don't even look back on it. I just… I know this may sound like a lot to ask, but just… please, please, look the other way on it. And it never even has to be brought up again. I'm a good fit for this job, ask anyone in my life, and they'll tell you."

The interviewer sighed. "I'm sorry, Mr. Schultz. Even if you were otherwise hireable… we don't hire former terrorists in this organization."

Dylan froze up again. He was even fighting back tears. "We weren't terrorists."

He clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Tell that to KRAKEN. With the whole manhunt that's been going on."

Dylan stared ahead with a sad, teary-eyed gaze.

The interviewer stood up, prompting Dylan to slowly do this same. He put his hand on his back as he led him to the door. "For what it's worth, I'll give you this piece of advice. Be honest at your interviews. I'm sure that there are places out there who will be looking to hire you, but… being honest, you'll have to look much harder. But just keep working hard, and… I'm…" He paused. "…sure something will come to you."

Dylan didn't respond, staring blankly at the floor. He turned to face him as he stepped out the door.

"Well…" The interviewer feigned a smile as he moved to close the door. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Schultz."

Later

"Mr. Schultz?" Dylan heard that familiar, growling voice in his ear, even if he wasn't quite processing it. "Mr. Schultz!?"

Dylan blinked as he finally broke from his trance at his sink and turned to his Inkling boss, who approached him in this medium-sized restaurant scullery room that was lined with sinks and other minimum-wage dishwashers just like him. He furiously held a stained plate up toward his face. "Do you call this an acceptably clean dish, Schultz?"

Dylan, in his drenched apron and water-protective gloves, blinked again as he stared at it. "Uh…"

"You've been paying so little attention, that somehow, we keep getting these contaminated plates all the way in the kitchen!" He shouted as he thrusted the plate forward. "How do you keep managing that!?"

Dylan, once again, froze up. He had been mentally drifting off again at the one job he was even able to keep… quite a lot, to be honest. "I-"

"No, no, save it! This is the fifth dish! Fifth! Not to mention that you've consistently not been making quota anyway, which would've warranted a chew-out on its own! You're fired!"

He gulped. "Please… Please, I need this jo-"

"I don't wanna hear it! You're done! Put your apron in the bin and get out!"

Dylan stared on as his boss took the plate, turned, and walked away. With a couple blank blinks, he slowly backed up. His boss was already out of ear-shot by the time he decided to respond. "Yeah… Yeah, just so you know, I never liked this job anyway! Not to mention that it's too damn moist for a Squid in here anyway! So I actually quit! Huh!? That's right! Not what you were expecting, huh!? I QUIT!" He yanked his apron off and angrily threw it in the bin, shouting to no one except for his confused co-workers who glanced at him. "How do you like that!?"

This day couldn't possibly get any worse. Dylan figured that much, at least. Sure, he hadn't been able to snag an actual good job, and was now once again jobless entirely, but that didn't change the fact that there were still tons of other minimum-wage jobs out there that he could shoot for the time being… as if… that would help his money issues… and his constant debt that was piling up. He just had to stay calm, keep moving forward, and re-strategize.

…Then he walked back up to his apartment, right here in Inkopolis. Upon arriving at the door, his attention was nabbed by the slip of paper that had been taped over the peephole, which he frantically ripped off to look over:

EVICTION NOTICE! It read in bold, red text. Due to consistent failure to meet rent, management has made the decision to pull your lease, effective immediately. Please gather all belongings and vacate the premises within two weeks… Blah, blah, blah… Dylan didn't even bother to finish reading the whole thing before he frantically pulled out his keys.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK!" With shaky hands, Dylan opened the door and rushed inside. He slapped the notice on the coffee table before he pulled out his phone and dialed the number for his landlord. He paced around the room as he held the phone to his ear and waited patiently to be answered. "Yes, hi, Mr. Ditkovich, I just wanted to assure you that- that the money is coming and-… Yes, no, I promise, I-…" He sighed. "…Ok. Two more weeks max. Got it. I… thank you. I… I won't waste it." He sighed and hung up in defeat.

He dropped his phone onto the edge of the couch as he plopped down onto the cushions, and it in turn slipped off the edge, slamming onto the floor. He rubbed his hands together as he stared ahead at nothing. Even if his landlord was willing to give him one last chance, there was no way he and his half-sister were going to make rent in the next two weeks, not at the rate they were going. They were fucked. Not only did he need to find a fast way to sort this out… he also needed to start looking for alternative options, for the likely scenario in which they were about to be homeless. That one word alone, homeless, terrified him.

He leaned back and slumped down, thinking. He didn't know where to go, what to do… it looked like he was gonna have to use this start of the clock to really think things over, and figure out his next move. And what about his sister? What was he going to do about managing this for the both of them?

The Reef

The summer sun shined down upon this familiar plaza, and all the shops that stood proudly here. The respawn points on either side of the stage were set and waiting, as the Inklings and Octolings on top held their weapons in anticipation of the countdown toward the inevitable ink battle. One team sported green ink, and the other pink.

Most of these contestants were around 14, maybe 15, and were in their early years of their participation in these ink games. Then, over here in the pink team… was Samantha Schultz, with her short, pink hair, tan skin, white tank top, and her Dark Tetra Dualies in hand, who had now pushed her way into adulthood. Her 18th year, that was. Yet, there was a youthful smirk on her face, and a tight grip on her weapons, as finally, the buzzer went off and Inkoming blasted through the speakers. With that, she and her team rushed into action, closing in on the Splat Zone in the center of the stage.

It was a somewhat lengthy battle as she and the others battled the green team for supremacy over the Zone, with many splats and revives over its time, as Samantha battled and splatted her way through the enemy team. Her aim had gotten pretty good, leading her to get many splats, but she in turn still got splatted quite a bit herself, even as the match went into overtime.

As they got deeper into overtime, and the pink team fought desperately to hold the zone just long enough to advance their score and take the lead, they started to get really close to catching up. They were a mere few points away. Yet, through it all, there was one person on the opposite team that Samantha had her eye on: A guy. An Inkling guy, with nice, healthy skin, green hipster hair that draped over his right eye, and brown, doughy eyes, that seemed considerably older than any of the kids here. As she fought to defend the Zones and earn those extra few points they needed to win, Samantha found herself frozen as she came face-to-face with this guy; She even lowered her guns at an angle. This guy stared back at her, and for that moment, they locked eye-contact, before-

SPLAT! He raised his gun and opened fire on her.

A moment later, Samantha woke back up at her team's respawn point, where she shook herself off. "Man-" She watched on as the green team swiftly took back the zone, and with that, the whistle went off to signal the end of the match, cementing her loss.

The two teams got together, shaking themselves off as a couple Jellyfish referees announced the results. They rolled their shoulders, did some stretches, and most of them walked off to prepare for the next match. Taking the opportunity, Samantha sat down on the edge of the bridge just above the Splat Zone, where she set her Dualies down at her sides, huffing as she stared off at the distance. She had that match, she knew she did… if she had just managed to stay alive a few moments longer…

"Sorry about that." She heard a voice call out to her from behind.

She rose her head in confusion, then turned to see that same, handsome guy walking up to her.

Her hearts about skipped a bit as she frantically stood up. "Oh! I- woooah-" She lost her balance, flailing her arms and her right leg as she just about fell backwards off of the bridge. Before she could fall, however, she was steadied as the guy reached forward and grabbed her right hand, then pulled her back onto the bridge. "Woah! Uh, t-thank you." She blushed as she smiled at him, patting his hand. "But, uh… what're you sorry for?"

"For stealing your win. That was real close. Seriously. You almost had it. Doesn't mean I was just gonna stand by and let it happen, though." He chuckled.

She chuckled as well, waving her hand. "Naaah, that's all good, I just got a little, uh… distracted."

"And gotta say, I don't exactly see a lot of adults still playing Ranked these days."

Again, Samantha's hearts started to flutter. She was pretty sure this guy was of age, but still, she decided she'd better make sure. "You're also an adult."

He nodded. "19."

"18." She smiled. "Woah, uh… nice to meet someone like-minded!" She awkwardly punched his shoulder.

He chuckled. "Mike."

"S-Samantha." She gulped. Now, it was both her hearts and her mind that was racing. "Um… a-are you… gonna keep playing matches, or-?"

"Uh, actually, with how hot it is out today, I figured I might call it here. Before I bust my winning streak."

Samantha hesitated greatly, and stuttered doubly so. "D-… D-You… D-… Do…" She awkwardly pointed behind herself, motioning to nothing behind her.

"Uh… sure." He smiled. "Ice cream?"

"Ice cream! Sure! Uh… L-Like…" She loudly cleared her throat. "D-Date ice cream?"

Again, he chuckled. "Whatever you wanna call it, sure." He patted her arm and started walking. "C'mon."

Samantha watched as he walked past him. Did… she really just do that? She just scored a date? With a really attractive guy that was her age? By herself? Holy shit… Now she just had to make sure she didn't blow this.

"Yeah-ha-ha!" She hissed to herself as she pumped her fist, did a little bounce and a skip, and followed after him with speedy steps.

As their date began, they stopped by a small ice cream shop, got some good-sized bowls for themselves, and started walking through the streets of Inkopolis as they snacked on them.

"Soo…" Samantha licked her spoon clean. "What's still got you playing Splat Zones?"

"Well, I've just always liked the game." Mike shrugged. "We've still got young bodies, right? Why not take advantage of it? It's good exercise, it's healthy competition… it's just good for us. You know?"

"Mm, I know. Amen, dude." She nodded as she got another scoop with her spoon.

"What about you?" He asked. "You got a reason you still like to play?"

Samantha paused a couple moments, dangling her spoon in the air, as she thought over her words. "You could say I'm… training, for something. Training hard."

"Heh. For what?"

"Oh, that just may be classified."

He chuckled. "What, as if to imply you're a secret agent or something?"

Samantha turned toward him, walking backwards with careful steps. "Let's just say you wouldn't believe me if I told you." She smirked. "Or believe half the shit I've seen."

"Oh, try me." He playfully shrugged. "There's already so much weird shit going on these days, what, with that thing that descended from the sky? That they were saying was a space station?"

She pointed her spoon at him. "It was Octarian." She then abruptly turned around to walk straight again. "Not that… I know that, but that's the heaviest speculation."

"Well, for all I know, if you're a secret agent, you were actually there and saw it all." He remarked.

Samantha didn't respond… but she couldn't wipe that wide grin off her face as she brought her gaze down to her ice cream, which she kept eating.

"Seriously, though. What're you training for?" Mike continued. "Professional ink battles? That'd be pretty cool."

"I…" She wanted so badly to tell him more, but… she relented. At least, for the time being. Maybe one day... when things were on better grounds… and she had truly earned her place as Agent 44 of the New Squidbeak Splatoon, the very same team she had already joined on some crazy adventures, before deciding to temporarily walk away to make sure she got better at fighting? Maybe then she could tell him. For now, though… she just playfully shrugged. "Maybe. Who knows?" She then held her finger to her lips.

He chuckled. "Alright, whatever you say. Whatever it is, though… Hope it works out."

"Thanks." She smiled at him. "Uh… same for you. You know… if… you have something you need to work out."

"Thanks. Well… I guess, in one way or another, we all have our own things."

"Yeah." Samantha looked back down. "There… are definitely things I've been dealing with."

"Oh, really?"

"Yeah. Um… Me and my brother… we've kind of been in hot water. Money wise." She scratched her head. "That's… admittedly, it's another reason why I've been playing so much ranked. Helps bring in a little more dough."

"Oh, I'm sorry. You struggling to find a job?"

"Well, we've been struggling to find jobs that… will actually help."

"Oh. Well… maybe if you need any kind of help…" He pointed to his own chest. "You can ask me."

"Really?"

"Sure." He smiled at her. "I mean… this was a good first date. Why say there won't be a few more?"

"R-Really?" She stopped entirely as they faced each other. "I mean… really. More dates sounds so great."

His smile grew wider, and with that, he pulled out his phone to exchange numbers with her. "Well, I'll definitely call you."

She smiled widely in response. "Yeah, definitely, s-same on my part, f-for you. Oh my god, this is really happening." She chuckled eagerly. "So, when's the part where we have sex?" Hearing the words that just exited her mouth, she immediately took a step back and held a hand forward. "Oh my god, I'm so sorry."

"Hehe…" He just chuckled awkwardly. "It's… fine."

Samantha gulped. "Well… I'll call you later, I guess."

"Yeah. Definitely." He smiled once more.

"Yeah." She nodded, waving her off as they went their different directions down the street. Well, really, Samantha found a spot to stand still where she leaned against a pole, staring onward as Mike kept walking down the street and then turned the corner. She lazily and absent-mindedly rubbed her fingers against the metal, until finally, she found it in herself to break off and walk her way back to her apartment. Her brain was buzzing, her hearts were racing, she couldn't even get that smirk off of her face. Today was just… great. A genuine change of pace, all for the better. Life was gonna be great from here on out.

She was even giggling a bit to herself as she finally made her way back into her apartment, where she walked in, imagining all the best scenarios with her new potential boyfriend. Her brother didn't seem to be home, which gave her all the opportunity to daydream as she walked through the living room. Hopefully, it was a potential boyfriend that would work out for once. She imagined all the kissing, the cuddling, the comfort… and having a great life-partner by her side when she was eventually a Splatoon agent again that would be out there fighting to save the world… It was the dream. Nothing could possibly break her mood now, she thought, as she came up to the table, where she noticed the EVICTION NOTICE laid on top.

Her giggle and smile both slowly subsided as she picked it up and read it over. "Hehe… oh, shit."

Meanwhile

Dylan had never been much of a drinker. Today, however, he felt like being anything but sober. He had to drown all of this out somehow. Now here he sat, in a random local bar in Inkopolis, with a beer in his hand, alone at a random table, with himself, his phone, and his thoughts. He took occasional sips as he lazily navigated social media, until he eventually dropped his phone entirely, and proceeded to stare ahead at nothing.

As the overhead TV that was pinned to the wall just above the bar continued to broadcast the news, he glanced over as they eventually brought up the same report that he and everyone else in the city had been hearing quite a bit about lately:

"As we speak, investigations are still deeply underway over the terrorist attack at Senator Keller's secondary office." The newscaster woman continued. "The manhunt for New Squidbeak Splatoon Agents 3, 8, and the Executioner, who were involved with the incident, is still underway as well. We have no real updates to share about that, but KRAKEN's search remains diligent and we expect an update in the coming days or weeks."

Dylan stared up at the screen as the images of Agents 3 and 8 came up, before he looked away again, sighing. He himself had left that life behind a long time ago, now… and he still had no real interest of getting back into it. Even if… with everything going on… he could feel the guilt in his chest that such a thought gave him. Would things have gone differently there if he had never left the Splatoon?

No. No, he couldn't think about that right now. He had other issues to worry about. He leaned back and took another sip of his drink, just as a suited Inkling man, with a black suit, tie, and hair that contrasted his white skin, suddenly approached his table and then sat across from him without warning. "Mr. Schultz. Do you mind if I sit?"

Dylan blinked at him. Why ask if he could sit after he already sat down? He shrugged that off. "Can I help you?"

"I can see that your eyes were on the news just now." He continued, not breaking eye contact as he put his hands together. "And let me be blunt. I'm fully aware of your former role in the team those agents were part of."

He sighed. "I've already told KRAKEN, I don't know where they are. Nor have I tried to contact them."

"I understand that one Agent 8 was helping you and your sister with your financial situation before this all went down."

"For a bit. Not like they're made of money themselves."

"And now, with Agent 8 on the run, I understand you and your sister are facing eviction."

Ok. This was getting weird fast. Dylan reached to pull out some money for his drink, which he slapped on the table. "Half-sister. And we're done here." He stood up.

"Please, Mr. Schultz, if I may, I have something really important to discuss with you." He motioned to Dylan's seat. "I think you'll both want, and need to hear it."

Dylan hesitated before he sat back down.

He motioned his hand to the TV that was still playing the news. "As you can see, the city is in chaos. And your own days of being a hero is still behind you. That doesn't feel right, does it?"

Dylan's gaze went down. That was probably the first time he heard someone outside the Splatoon call them heroes, rather than terrorists or some other fancy word.

The man leaned forward. "Now, what if I told you that I work for an organization that will save you and your sister from all your imaginable debt, hell, even exponentially increase your overall quality of life, under the one simple condition that you come work for us?"

"Sounds…" He raised his eyebrows. "Fishy. Like… sea-water fishy."

"It's perfectly legitimate, I promise." The man pulled a black card out of his suit pocket, which he slid on the table. "I represent a private military firm that is funded by the Inkadian government. And we are interested in recruiting someone with your abilities."

Dylan took the card, which, in bold, white text with a modern flair, read: SWORDFISH, along with a phone number. He had never heard of it before, but, there were still red flags in his words. "Government. So, like KRAKEN?" He looked at him with an unconvinced gaze.

"We're not like KRAKEN." He shook his head. "KRAKEN does the public, boots-on-the-ground stuff. They're the anti-terrorism operations. Swordfish's operations are much more similar to what you may be used to with your former Splatoon. Covert ops, infiltration… the secret stuff. Considering your reputation, we're eager to invite you on without all the training, straight to duty… and you will be given a chance to become that hero again I know you are. Without ever having to worry about money again."

Dylan leaned back as he stared at him. "Where's the catch?"

"No catch. Except, you may be expected to provide Swordfish with whatever former Splatoon gear that you have, which we understand… is of quite advanced technology."

With that, Dylan scoffed. "Ok. There's your angle." He leaned forward. "You're just like those Senate guys who have been pestering my old team for their assets for months. I don't even know how many times the Splatoon has said no. But you're not gonna get that out of me this easily."

"Mr. Schultz, I assure you, I wouldn't be reaching out to you like this if things weren't so dire right now. As I said, the city is in chaos. There are gang wars running rampant, and recently, a sizeable amount of money has been stolen. Our current operations involve setting things straight… but we need that kind of technology that the Splatoon has been hoarding. Help us, and I promise you… you will be compensated beyond your wildest dreams, Agent 4."

Dylan didn't respond. He couldn't respond… he had too many back-and-forth thoughts to everything he was hearing. This all sounded so fishy, but… he also… needed that money… no matter how much he thought otherwise…

The man stood up and buttoned up his suit jacket. "Please, think it over, you'll be given ample time to do so. And… in the meantime, please keep this conversation between ourselves, as well." He pointed toward the card. "Feel free to call at any point, you'll be answered immediately. We look forward to potentially working with you, Mr. Schultz." With that, he walked away, and exited the bar.

Dylan was left in silence as he stared at the card in his hand, his mind racing all the while. As the moments went by, he slowly dropped it onto the table and leaned back, but his eyes didn't break from it, and he even considered reaching for his phone. Neither yes or no sounded like a good answer, so… what other option did he have?

Chapter Text

When Dylan finally returned home after an evening of drinking, drunk and tired, the first thing he did was shut himself in his room. He dropped his newly acquired black Swordfish card that he had been carrying in his hand onto the floor, and then plopped into bed, falling asleep on top of his covers and drooling onto his pillow.

Upon awakening in the morning, he was first greeted with the hungover headache he had kind of forgotten to anticipate, and groaned to himself as he sat up. His clothes were wrinkled, his hair was an absolute mess, and there was a line of dried drool on his cheek, which he lazily wiped.

It took him a moment to come to grips with everything that happened yesterday… He got fired… He and his sister were about to be evicted… and… there was something else… What was it?

He looked around. He felt like there was supposed to be something important in his hand, but at the moment… eh. He knew the saying, if he couldn't remember, it probably wasn't important. His stomach was meanwhile rumbling, screaming at him to be filled, so, he set his sights on getting some cereal, and pushed himself out of bed.

He lazily cruised out of his room and into his kitchen, with slow, stumbling steps and his eyes half-closed like a zombie, where he reached into the drawer to find… no clean bowls. Great. He reached for the dishwasher, aaaand, there was nothing clean in there either. Excellent. Sighing, he reached to pull a dirty bowl out and take it to the sink, when he jumped-

"You know, with how drunk you were last night, I'm not sure that you noticed, but… we're boutta be homeless." His own half-sister Samantha, whom Dylan had failed to notice, was already sitting at the dining table. She held up the eviction notice in her hand.

SMASH! The bowl in Dylan's hands dropped to the floor and shattered into several pieces, which slid across the floor across the entire kitchen.

Dylan glared at her. "God dammit, Sam."

"Sorry, I just didn't realize that the solution to eviction notices was drinking yourself silly. Huh… you know, really makes you not so different from Dad."

"I'm working the problem." He reached down to pick the pieces up. "I don't even know where the hell you were yesterday."

"Getting us money, dipshit."

He shook his head. "I've told you a million times, any rewards you're gonna get from Ranked are not gonna cover this."

"Well, then, I guess we were both goofing off. Oh, but I do have some questions." Fumbling the black card in her fingers, she held it up for him to see. "What's Swordfish?"

Dylan's hearts just about skipped a beat as he finally remembered that important thing he was trying to remember. He lunged forward to yank it from her hand.

"Hey!" Samantha tried taking it back, only to end up chasing him into the next-door living room.

"This isn't your business!" Dylan shouted as he slipped the card back into his pocket.

"Why not, huh? That first question was rhetorical, by the way. I looked it up. Private military firm, funded by government, super cool black-ops teams, all that jazz." She folded her arms. "Glad to see you got an invitation and weren't even gonna tell me."

He turned back to her, squinting. "Are you jealous?"

"I didn't say that."

"Look, a shady guy came up to me, and I never said I was gonna accept the invitation. They wanted our Splatoon gear and everything. It was all too forward, too out-of-nowhere, too weird. So drop it."

"Dylan, it's money!" She outstretched her hands as if to strangle him. "We need the money!"

"I'll get the money, I promise!"

"Yeah, I've heard that one before. If you're not gonna call, gimme the card. I wanna try my hand at this." She reached her hand toward his pocket.

"No." He backed up to keep it from her.

"And why not!?"

"Because the invitation was for me!"

"Oh, look at you, the super cool hero who won't even do anything heroic anymore! Big woop!"

"You know what, don't act like you've been doing anything to help with this! You've been spending your days all out there, playing Ranked all the time, playing video games, and being a brat! You're 18 now, Samantha, I'm not the only one who should be holding us up!"

"Because it's not all about us!" She shouted.

"The hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the world!" She motioned out the window. "Because the world needs us!"

Dylan squinted as he looked out the window, and the nice, cloudless, summer day that encompassed it. "The world looks fine to me."

"Are you serious? The criminal element has never been higher. The Splatoon just got axed in half, again, because Bridge and Jessica are out there somewhere on the run. And what the hell are you doing? Going out there drinking and going 'oh woe is me' over an eviction notice, while seeking out and getting rejected from every dead-end office job out there? I want to do more than that!" She stepped forward. "I've been playing Ranked, because I want to get better, and improve myself, so I can help the Splatoon again! Or Swordfish, if that's who will have us!"

"The Splatoon doesn't pay and you almost died last time you were an agent! I don't want you to go through that again!"

"That's why I'm getting better! Improving myself! And yeah, in case you haven't noticed, I am getting better!"

He scoffed. "Then you know what, just go back to the Splatoon, and take on that whole Agent 44 mantle again. No one's stopping you."

"You think I haven't tried? You think I haven't tried to stay in touch with Marie and get another invitation? You think she's been answering either of our calls?"

"Ugh, because Marie's out there monitoring the Octarians after Octavio escaped his snowglobe again. She's just busy."

"You know, you could try contacting her the other way."

"No. No, I'm not bothering her with this. Look, whatever's going on out there in the city right now is not our concern. We've already been through it, we've already… done our part. Now our current mission, is not getting evicted. Ok? That's what I've always been focused on, is the current mission. And it doesn't always have to be about fighting Octarians and going to space and dodging lasers. Because we've earned our peace. And we're siblings. If you don't want to be homeless, I need you on the same page as me."

Samantha didn't respond, glaring at him with folded arms.

He sighed. "Sam? Are you listening?"

After one more pause, Samantha suddenly turned and ran toward Dylan's room.

"Sam! No!" He ran to chase her, as Samantha ran in, yanked open his closet, and reached to open the suitcase where all of Dylan's Agent 4 gear was hidden. As she zipped it open, Dylan was barely able to catch up with her, where he wrestled her for it.

"You said Swordfish wanted our gear, so I'm giving it to 'em!" Samantha replied.

"No, you're not!" He wrestled it from her grasp and threw it back into the closet before he pulled her away. "It's all confidential gear, Marie ordered us to never share it!"

"So you're just gonna let us get evicted!?" Samantha shouted with outstretched hands. "And continue to sit out on the streets on your ass, doing nothing!?"

"I'M FIGURING IT OUT!" He finally exploded. Samantha, disturbed by the absolute height of his voice, fell silent and stepped back.

Dylan, taking a moment to calm back down, panted in an attempt to catch his breath. "I'm gonna talk to Dad. Ok? It's a last resort, but… please, just give me these two weeks to figure this out."

Samantha scoffed. Tears were subtly building in her eyes. "You know Dad's not gonna help us, he doesn't even give a shit about us."

Dylan ignored that. "Two weeks. Please."

Giving up, Samantha groaned. "Two weeks. Then it's the streets, I guess."

"You want the vigilante life so badly, I'm sure you'll love the streets."

Samantha stuck up her middle finger as she backed up toward the doorway. "L plus ratio, plus you're a cuck, plus Agent 3 is better." She collided with the wall on the way out. "Ow." She corrected herself and stepped out, keeping her middle finger up all the way until she stepped out of view.

Dylan stood there, squinting at the doorway, as he wondered what the hell half of that even meant.

As he turned back toward the closet, where his Agent 4 gear was now peeking out from within the suitcase, he found himself staring at it, while his finger simultaneously fumbled the Swordfish card that was hidden in his pocket. Did… Samantha have a point? To some extent?

That mere thought filled him with anger. He didn't owe anyone anything, and he had other things to worry about. He angrily knelt down to zip his suitcase back up, then slammed the closet door shut.

As the minutes passed, Samantha plopped down on the couch in the living room, where she checked her phone. She supposed for the moment, she should just think about getting back into her Ranked matches for the day, which meant she better check up on the schedule. As she contemplated whether to turn on the news or just to check the schedule on her phone, she checked the time and date, which in turn prompted her to remember that today was actually a special Inkopolis News broadcast; They were going to announce the first Splatfest of this year's Splatfest season! And it was gonna be on soon! That was gonna be a good way for her to own some dough, right?

"Oh, shoot." Samantha threw her phone to the side as she lunged for the remote on the coffee table and flipped the TV on.

She only had to wait a couple minutes before that familiar logo came on the screen against a colorful, stylish red and yellow background, with the lovable, cheery Solar Flair jingle that accompanied it. Then, it transitioned to the beautiful, Inkling musical duo themselves: Dawn, with her long red hair, and Sunny, with her shorter, curled up yellow hair. Their black attires that contrasted their white skin both consisted of skin-tight, mid-riff shirts that lit up and glowed, skin-tight shorts, fingerless gloves, and high heels, along with little glowing lights that were attached to their belly buttons.

Dawn, with her cleavage that showed off some of her larger breasts, pointed at the screen. "Sun's up! You know what that means!"

"It's Inkopolis News time!" Sunny continued with her seductive smile.

"I'm Dawn-"

"I'm Sunny-"

"And we are SOLAR FLAIR!" They cheered in unison as they arched their backs and struck their sexy poses, waving their fingers toward the camera.

As Sunny straightened herself, she brushed back her hair. "Man, it's been a while… but as the brighter one of the duo, I just have to say: It is just a bright, beeeautiful day today."

"Darn right you are, Sun. It's a perfect day to get things started. Because as we get into Summer, you know what happens next…"

"What? What happens next?"

"Another Splatfest season is upon us!" Dawn stretched her hand into the air as the music cut off, and was replaced with the typical printer sound that started in the background.

"YES!" Sunny smirked. "We're back, baby!"

"Unfortunately last year, with the horrible, destructive incidents that took place in Inkopolis Square and elsewhere in the city, Splatfests in Inkopolis couldn't commence, and the season was canceled entirely."

"But this year, we're back, and brighter than ever!" Sunny pointed at the camera. "And Inkopolis has bounced back and built itself back up!"

"Don't know what we're talking about yet?"

"And wondering where these new Splatfests are even gonna take place?"

"Well, allow us to show you."

"I'm sure you've already noticed the new studio we're standing in, no?"

"That's right, we're standing right here in-" They both motioned to the television screen behind them, which brought up an image and logo that was plastered over it, of: "The NEW Inkopolis Square!"

"Wooow." Sunny mused, smiling. "Even from just a picture, it's so pretty."

"You wanna take a look around?" Dawn asked.

"I sure do."

"Well come on out, and we'll show you what it's all about!" As Dawn and Sunny both motioned outward, the camera zoomed in toward the picture, and the screen faded to white.

The New Inkopolis Square, in spite of its name, was more of a plaza, with an infrastructure that was inspired directly by both by the former Inkopolis Square and Inkopolis Plaza. It was complete with a fountain in the center, and the many brand new buildings that surrounded it.

The square, and all of the buildings that were a part of it, wasn't open to the public yet, but it was regardless bustling with color as Dawn and Sunny, with multiple camera crews from different news stations that followed them, walked around to give the tour.

"Right here in the center to greet all visitors, we have our lovely Inkopolis Fountain." Dawn motioned toward it, then motioned toward the memorial plaque that was inscribed into the small, curved wall that surrounded it. "Complete with an inscription for the memory of all the civilians and law enforcement officers who lost their lives in the station attacks last year."

"Over here, we have our new Galleria!" Sunny next led them to the line of assorted shops that traditionally stood on the left side of the lot. "Clothes, headpieces, and shoes for ink battles, all right here, as per usual. Along with the Ballista weapons shop, and their new, state-of-the-art selections."

"Now, here's our very own Solar Flair studio!" Dawn next led them to the red-and-yellow studio that stood on the lot's right side, with a sloped walkway that led up to the usual window where the Inkopolis News studio could be seen. "Don't be afraid to stop by and take a peek, maybe we'll even give you a wave back!" She winked.

"And of course…" Finally, their tour led them up to be tall, art-deco building that stood in the back of the Square that stretched up many stories into the sky. "Lincoln Tower! Inkopolis' brand new icon, and the latest center of our very culture!"

Dawn pointed toward the entrance, and the circular sliding doors that slid open to grant access. "Of course, here on the first floor, we have our brand new ink battle lobby. Designed in collaboration with Glen Fiddler and the Fiddler Corporation."

"And from the balcony up there, we will be hosting our Splatfest celebrations!" Sunny pointed toward the concert stage that stood on the balcony, similarly to Deca Tower before it.

"Oh, but Sun, with all this excitement, I think we almost forgot to announce what the first Splatfest we'll be hosting here is even gonna be." Dawn interrupted.

"Right you are, Dawn!" Sunny pointed toward the large screen that stood over the stage. "Why don't we take a look and see what shakes loose?"

From the speakers throughout the square, five dramatic, singular electronic notes counted down to the Splatfest's reveal, growing higher with each one. Finally, as the fifth one erupted, the screen turned on to reveal the logos for the new Sun vs Moon Splatfest.

"Oh!" Sunny erupted.

"A rather simple Splatfest theme to start out this season, that everyone can join in on and enjoy!" Dawn continued.

"I think it's fair to say that, this time around, the both of us will actually be representing Team Sun." She chuckled.

She shrugged playfully. "Just can't swing the other way. Sorry."

"But I'm sure of course that Team Moon will be garnering plenty of its own representation from people throughout the entire city!"

"We're counting on you!"

"Until we take you down, anyway." She winked.

"And well, for today… I think that's it."

"As always, we are the Solar Flair in the sky-"

"And we'll be beaming down on you-"

"Until next time!" They struck their same poses.

Celebratory Solar Flair music continued to blast through the Square as Dawn and Sunny concluded their Inkopolis News broadcast, then walked off toward their studio.

One of these Inkling reporters in the crowd turned back to her own camera crew, smiling as she held her microphone toward her mouth. "And there we have it! Even after the mysterious, horrifying destruction of Deca Tower last year, Inkopolis has bounced back and is once again as lively as ever! In no small part, of course, to Dennis Lincoln, Glen Fiddler, and our beautiful Solar Flair in the sky! No matter what horrible news we have to report on these days, it's always good to see that Dawn and Sunny's smiles, which first made their beaming debut on Splatoon Island years ago, are still shining as brightly as ever!"

As Dawn and Sunny retreated into their studio, retreating from the crowd and closing the doors behind them, their smiles immediately morphed into annoyed frowns as soon as they were sure no press could see them.

"God, it's too hot for this shit. I'm sweating all over the place." Sunny muttered bitterly as they walked through the studio lobby.

"Couldn't stand that reporter bitch with the blouse who kept giving me those demeaning looks." Dawn replied as she walked with her. "Like she can't handle some fucking cleavage."

"There was more reporters than I was told about, for sure."

As they headed back into the studio's make-up rooms, with their individual mirrors, desks, and lights, they met back up with their stylists, who immediately got to work with helping them out of their outfits.

It wasn't long after they got changed when they were met with the large, Giant Isopod man, with his fancy white suit, and the rings on his arms. He walked into the room with a towering presence, using his six arms to button up and straighten his suit as he pushed his way in from behind the curtains. He was none other than Solar Flair's producer, Dennis Lincoln.

"I thought we discussed the two of you siding with the same team." He spoke with a deep, gravelly voice.

"Yeah, well, we agreed to have a say in creative decisions, remember?" Dawn asked. "You wanted the sun vs moon theme, like hell one of us was gonna side with moon."

"And in turn, you both missed the point of siding with the different teams. The both of you have legions of your own fans, and fans who would side with both of you. It divides them more evenly, like a Splatfest should."

Sunny sighed as she lit a cigarette and leaned against her own make-up desk. "Look, we get you like to play 4D chess with literally everything, but, it's just a Splatfest."

"This won't be as simple as the last Splatfest season you two hosted." Dennis continued. "Things are different this year. And this next Splatfest is going to help guide the people of Inkopolis along to the future we're carving out. This is going to be a make-or-break moment. I need you both to follow my orders closer than that from here on out."

Dawn and Sunny side-eyed each other.

Sunny was the first to clear her throat. "Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir." Dawn echoed.

Stepping toward them, Dennis reached over to tenderly brush Dawn's hair. "You remember that. The future of our city is in our grasp."

Dawn nodded. "…I know."

He turned to leave the room the same way he came in. "Then keep up the good work."

"Sir." Sunny stood up.

Dennis turned a shoulder toward her.

"Preparations are going well for the Splatfest, right?"

"We've ran into hitches. Bumps along the road just like with anything in life. But we're handling it. Operation Spotlight is still on track for this first Splatfest."

"Which means Operation 4 is, as well?" Dawn asked.

"It will be on track one way or the other." He nodded. "For now, you girls keep doing what you're doing."

"Yes, sir." They both repeated.

As Dennis finally walked out, Sunny moved to lean on Dawn's desk next to her, folding her arms. "How are you feeling?"

"Nauseaus." Dawn replied.

Sunny reached a hand over to feel her hair. "Well, you did good out there."

She smiled back at her. "You too." She looked back outward. "Thanking god every day that the people out there still love us."

"Of course they do." She reached to squeeze her hand. "Because we take their attention and their love in a way the Squid Sisters never did."

Dawn shook her head. "Fucking Squid Sisters… haven't even had to think about them lately. Not after those fuckers nearly destroyed our career."

Sunny smirked. "Well, we got the last laugh. So let's make sure we never fall into irrelevancy like they did. And we'll never have to think about them again."

Dawn smirked back at her, leaning in for a kiss.

Sunny tenderly returned it, before she broke off with a smile. "See you at the next rotation announcements, babe."

"See you." Dawn held her hand even as Sunny pulled away, and they let go, allowing her hand to sink back down on her lap. As Sunny walked away, however, Dawn interrupted her. "Hey, Sun?"

As Sunny turned back toward her, she nervously rubbed her own arms. "Are we still sure about this? About… Operation Spotlight? And Lincoln's plans?"

Sunny shook her head. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"It's just…" She looked down. "A feeling."

Sunny stepped back toward her, cupping her cheek. "Remember that no matter what… we are gonna be in control of the situation. And you know that the situation will benefit us. So let's just keep doing what Lincoln excepts of us for one more Splatfest season…" She kissed her head. "And we'll get everything we've ever wanted. Don't ever forget that."

Dawn replied with a nod and a small smile.

With one more kiss, Sunny again turned to walk out.

Left alone, Dawn's smile sank back down into a frown, and she folded her arms, kicking her feet forward as she leaned back further against her desk.

The Suburbs

Dylan's cheap, green car drove through the quiet streets of this quiet, average neighborhood, where he pulled up to th curb outside a particular house, parked, and proceeded to just… stare at his destination. He turned off his ignition and leaned back, fumbling his keys in his hand. He should just turn around right now, shouldn't he? Before he made an ass out of himself and just ruined his day further?

No, fuck it, he had to do this. He opened his door and got out, walking up to the house before him. He knocked on the door and stepped back, waiting with a nervous fidget in his feet.

It took a couple moments for the door to open, answered by the middle-aged Inkling man, by the name of Owen Schultz, who looked almost like an older version of him. He blinked. "Dylan."

"Uh… hey, Dad." Dylan replied sheepishly, standing unusually stiff.

"What're you doing here?"

"Just… wanted to see you."

He stared at him. "What're you really doing here?"

Dylan sighed. "I… Samantha and I… need another loan."

He sighed and leaned against the doorway, looking down. It wasn't even that he was surprised, he was more… annoyed.

"Sam and I are about to be evicted." Dylan explained. "We have just under two weeks before we have to vacate. And… And we're already heavy on debt, the rent has gotten too expensive, and-"

"I haven't seen you at Squidmas the last few years." Owen interrupted. "Or Thanksgiving."

Dylan fell silent.

"And then, I had to find out the hard way that, all along, you were a part of that… vigilante group." Owen continued. "The ones who keep getting mixed up in all this terrorism shit."

"I left the group, I'm not a part of them anymore."

"Yeah, damn lucky that you didn't just yourself killed first."

"...The hell do you mean by that?"

"I checked the obituaries every day after that Splatoon leak happened. Every day, I watched the news, wondering if you had, once again, gone out and done something stupid. And now… you come back asking for money."

Dylan sighed. "I… I tried to leave. Multiple times. I did leave until the Square attack last year. And then after all that, I finally left for good."

"Well, then, you could get a job, right?"

"Well- I- Uh- Well- Uh-…" He sighed. "…No. Apparently, being an ex-Splatoon agent these days is like… the equivalent of being an ex-con."

"You are an ex-con."

"Not, like… legally, I don't believe." He replied sheepishly.

"You were a vigilante, vigilantes are illegal, and you got arrested for it at one point. It's not complicated."

"Dad, would you just throw me a fucking bone?" Dylan suddenly snapped. "I need help!"

Owen just stared at him.

As they stood there in silence, Dylan soon gave up, and instead turned back toward his car. "Never mind. But you know, Mom never would've thrown me aside like this."

Owen stood straight. "Hey, don't you throw shit like that at me!"

"Why not!?" He held his arms out as he turned back to him.

"Do you think it didn't eat me up inside when your Mom died? Do you think it was easy for me when Samantha's mom just up and left?"

"I'll give you three guesses why she did!"

"I was the only one who was taking care of you two!" He stepped forward, pointing his finger toward his chest. "And I'm sorry we drifted over the years. But you need to take accountability for what you did for this family when you and Samantha left to Inkopolis Square."

"You call that taking care of us?" Dylan growled in return, slowly tearing up. "You spent your days on the couch in a daze drinking booze. Or out on this porch with those stupid cigarettes that I worried would just end up killing your lungs. And yeah, what Sam's mom did, leaving you and her at the same time, was shitty. But you also gave up after that." He pointed his finger back at him. "So I had to step in and start taking more care of my own sister. Because you sure as hell weren't."

Owen fell into silence as he heard those last words.

With watery eyes, Dylan stared back at him, waiting for any kind of response… before he turned back to his car once again. Indeed, he should've trusted his gut before.

"Dylan." Owen called out.

"Forget it!"

"Dylan!" He shouted, only to watch as Dylan just got back in his car. Sighing, he slowly turned back toward his house.

Dylan slumped down at the wheel in defeat, sighing. Ok, so maybe coming here was indeed just a bad idea, but once again, he figured things couldn't get much worse. He grabbed his keys, plunged them into the ignition, aaaand… his car started to flood, as the engine refused to turn on. He looked over the amount of gas he had, and at the battery status in confusion. "Are you kidding me?" He again tried turning his key to no avail.

That was it. Dylan had now given himself permission to lose his shit. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. "Grrr-RAAAAHHHHH!" He whined as he repeatedly slammed his palms down on the steering wheel, while kicking at the pedals with his feet.

Squinting as he saw Dylan's car shake slightly, Owen turned and watched from his porch as Dylan threw his tantrum, then shoved his door open, walking around the car to pop the hood.

As Dylan looked everything over in silent fury, Owen gulped before he stepped forward off of his porch. "Dylan."

Dylan ignored him at this point.

"Dylan!" He shouted.

Finally, Dylan glanced at him.

"Do you need help?" He held his hands out.

A couple minutes passed as they grabbed some copper battery cables from the house's garage, popped Owen's car's hood as well, and hooked up their batteries to each other. Owen got into his own car, started it up, and peeked his head out the car window. "Ok, go!"

From his own driver's seat, Dylan again turned his key in the ignition, and lo and behold, his engine started, announcing itself with its roar. Relieved, Dylan sighed and leaned back in his seat. "Thank god…"

As they got everything put away again, and Dylan closed his car door, Owen walked up to his car window, peeking inside. Dylan glanced back at him, but was too afraid to say anything after that argument they just had.

"Look, I don't… know about giving you a loan." Owen continued. It was audibly like he was choking back his words. "But if you and Samantha really do get evicted, you're… you're welcome to come back here."

Dylan looked at him, but still didn't say anything.

"You and Samantha will got back on your feet. I know you will." He continued.

Dylan didn't really believe that at this point. And… although he felt he should, he didn't really like the idea of moving back in with his dad. Not right now. Sure, if he and Samantha became homeless and had no other choice, he'd accept the offer, but… was it set in stone yet? Thinking about this, he broke eye contact with his father and gazed back at his steering wheel.

Sighing, Owen lowered his head and backed up, allowing Dylan space.

"...See ya around, Dad." Dylan shifted into drive, pressed on the gas, and slid his window shut as he drove away down the street.

Owen watched all the while until Dylan turned a corner and disappeared.

As Dylan returned home, he avoided contact with Samantha as well, who was sitting on the couch on her phone as he strolled past her toward his room. She turned her left shoulder to watch him pass, but didn't say anything.

Dylan again locked himself in his room, where he looked around. There were a lot of thoughts going through his head and of course, limited time to process it all. He did tell Samantha… he was going to give his Dad one more shot and then he was going to consider… the other thing. He pulled the Swordfish card out of his pocket, which he again looked over.

As the moments went by, he opened up his closet as well, and then zipped open the bag with his Agent 4 gear, letting it into the light.

What were his options? He had already said it himself to Samantha, he had been unable to reach out to Marie to ask her for help while she was so busy. His own Dad was only willing to help as a last-ditch… And a handsome man in a nice suit had given him his third option on a silver platter, even if he didn't really fully trust it.

Then again… what if there wasn't really a reason not to trust in that? What if he was just overthinking this all? What if it really was just this easy?

Looking over the Swordfish number one last time, he plopped down on his swivel chair by his desk, and got on his phone to type it out. Setting the card on the desk, he swiveled his chair back toward the Agent 4 gear in his closet. The call only rang for a moment before he was answered. "Yes, this is Dylan Schultz. Just wanted to call to let you know… I'm in."

Chapter Text

Hey, everyone. So, I fell off the face of the Earth for a while again. Oopsies. But hey, I'm still alive, and I figured I'd drop in real quick and drop this to let you know of it, if anyone's been curious.

So, this one is weird. I've done rewrites before and have had to go out of my way to fix stories up after they were previously rushed, or just weren't clicking with me, you know how it goes. In this case, though, we're referring to a story I had just started and had only gotten two chapters into. The reason for this particular rewrite is not because I was unhappy with the story as it was, but when I was working on another recent rewrite, I was left with a lot of time to further brainstorm this one and, yeah, I ended up with new ideas for it. The kind of ideas I'm kicking myself for not coming up with sooner. So, while I was working on the rewrite for my other story as well, I decided, hell, why not just give this one a redo as well? It didn't really cost me as much time as the other stories did and I do think the story will be better off for it.

The reason I didn't announce this sooner is because for a while there, I was unsure of how extensive the other rewrite would be and what all the rewrite even needed, or whether it would even ever be finished, but if you're reading this AN, that means I figured it out and am planning on publishing the new versions of this story and Agent 3: Intransient sometime soon, replacing the original versions. (See A3:I's AN for that rewrite announcement too). Like I did with the NSS:A rewrite, the new chapters will probably be published one at a time a day or two apart from each other to hopefully draw in some new readers and also give myself extra time to make adjustments. After that, new chapter updates should continue like normal.

To everyone who's already read the story so far and was waiting for an update, I'm really sorry about this, but at the end of the day, I just wanna make this story the best I can. Granted, this was indeed a fledgling story so there are worse times to suddenly drop a rewrite, but still, I'll try not to make a habit of it. Promise.

For anyone who cares, yes, Into the Splatlands still exists, I haven't forgotten it. I've admittedly been struggling with the next 3 chapters on that one too and have had reduced time to work on it, but, it still is being worked on. For my FNAF story Behind Purple Eyes, uh... yeah, that one might actually be dead in the water. But, for the time being, it's still not cancelled, as I may still find the time and motivation to work on that one later on down the line, we'll see. Regardless, keep your dreams alive and stay healthy, and hopefully, I'll see you soon. *waves*