Chapter Text
Pale summer moonlight shimmers on the seafloor. An Octopus, unaware that dawn will bring capture, rests within a trap, dreaming fleeting dreams…
“Ahoy! Octoling!” A grating voice called.
The aforementioned Octoling's head pounds as they slowly open their eyes. The figure above them was blurry, a mish-mash of color and shape.
“Up and at ‘em, ya lazy whiffle-waffle!”
‘Whiffle-waffle’? What did that mean? They couldn’t think on the term too long, as their vision cleared up.
Two big eyes peered at them from behind oddly shaped glasses.
“This fight ain’t over! Prepare for a royal whoopin’!” The elderly man standing over them exclaimed before pausing for a moment. “But there’s no honor in defeating an unarmed opponent…and you seem to have lost your weapon somewhere around here.”
The old man stood up straighter, glancing around for a minute.
They made a mental note of the green tracksuit, adorned with medals. War medals of some kind? The old man also wore a pair of headphones around his neck, silver ones and he used a cane to keep himself upright.
The man leaned back down towards them. “And just where is…here…anyway? Last thing I remember, you were battling my protege, Agent 3, in Octo Valley…when both of you were suddenly attacked by someone.”
‘Agent 3?’
“And somehow we got marooned here… So, uh…how’s we call a temporary truce while we find a way to escape?” He proposed.
All of this was so sudden, they hadn’t even found their bearings yet. Their head still pounded lightly, the headache they came to with still there.
“But where are my manners… I haven’t even told you my name! I’m Cap’n Cuttlefish, leader of the legendary New Squidbeak Splatoon! And you are?...”
They lay there on the ground, staring up at Cuttlefish with a near-blank stare, unable to give him an answer. What was their name? Why couldn’t they remember it?
The silence was a little more than uncomfortable, and it went on for a couple more moments as they stared at each other before Cuttlefish spoke again.
“This is..the part where you tell me your name.” He tried to prompt, but after another moment, this one quicker than the last, he realized, “By kraken…you lost your memory when you hit the ground?!”
This wouldn’t be inherently surprising to the Octoling, but it put them into a silent feeling of distress.
“You can’t remember anything about yourself? Anything at all?!”
They closed their eyes, trying to dig up something, literally anything about themself, but they could only draw a blank. They opened their eyes again as the old man they’d just met continued to speak. It seems he was a chatterbox. They didn’t like it.
“Most interesting…I noticed you were humming the Calamari Inkantation right before you came to…” Cuttlefish observed.
The song sounded familiar to them. Song? How would they know it's a song?... They shook off the feeling of deja vu as he continued to speak.
“Could it be? Has this heavenly melody been etched into your very soul?!”
They both sat there in silence, Cuttlefish seeming waiting for an answer and the other sitting there, a bit stunned by the notion. Their mind drifted, near tuning out the old squid. He rambled on about ‘Octarians whose souls were etched by those squidtastic grooves’, ‘DJ Octavio’, and such. The one thing they did catch was his apology.
“In any case, sorry for siccing Agent 3 on you back there.” He expressed, though, to the Octoling, it sounded nearly half-assed. “Any fan of the Squid Sisters is a friend of mine!”
They inwardly cringed at that. They did not consider him a friend in any capacity, and probably never would, but he didn’t need to know that at the moment.
“Now dust yourself off and find your land legs. We need to get moving!” Cuttlefish prompted urgently, motioning dramatically to what looked like a subway platform entrance that was blocked off with caution tape. “Let's find a way out of here!”
The Octoling carefully pushed themself off of the dusty, cool ground. As they stood up, they felt dizzy and really did have to find their balance. They took a quick glance around at their surroundings, idly twirling one of their tentacles around their finger.
The area was dark, having a couple of seemingly rusty industrial supports holding the place up, Caution Tape being wrapped around them, along with a couple of stickers or posters. They didn’t bother to try and see which was which.
Dusting their skirt off, they made their way to the only subway terminal gates that were open to the left. Walking through them, they approached the train, peeking in before actually stepping onto it. The doors to their right were closed, but the ones on their left were wide open.
The Octoling trotted down each train car, taking the scattered newspapers, discarded cans, and other trash, though they never stopped to look at them. The last train car opened up in the back and oddly enough had a couple of puddles of paint that then led deeper into the actual subway tunnel. Shifting into their octopus form, they swam through the ink, making their way down the tunnel.
After a while, the ink had ended, and they had to resort back to walking. The area they’d entered was a mess, seeming either in the middle of construction, unfinished, or just flat-out partially destroyed. In their way was a box, a black one with a glass casing that had a lock symbol.
The Octoling was startled by hearing Cuttlefish’s voice in their ear, but as they reached up, they realized it was a communication earpiece in their ear. Was that there before? Unsure, they kept it there.
“Hey- that’s an Octarian vault! You need a key to open it.” The old codger seemed to point out the obvious.
On the bottom of the vault was etched a key symbol. Obviously, it needed a key, but they said nothing, simply giving a soft grunt of acknowledgment.
They noticed a small raised, circular platform that blinked red with feet symbols. The Octoling went over to stand on it and it suddenly filled with pink ink as it activated the zipline that went over whatever was blocking the next hall over.
“Being and Octarian and all…you sure this place doesn’t look familiar?”
They were irked by the question, for an unknown reason but chose to ignore him as they climbed the zipline and hopped onto another platform. This one they recognized somehow, a weapon terminal. As the cylinder sides raised up, it granted them only one option, a Splattershot Jr. and a Splat Bomb, two of the most basic weapons that could be acquired.
They chose it and was then pushed into the next area. Out of instinct, they broke the large wooden crates blocking their way with the Splattershot, and behind it was the room they needed to get into. They went up the ramp, initially noticing the targets all around the room, but what really caught their eye was what was contained in the room. Medical equipment, IV drips full of blue liquid; disposal units. It felt out of place but they didn’t linger on it for too long. They had no time for that.
It took a while (a while being an understatement) but the Octoling had found the key, being glad to get out of that room as it had been giving them the heebie-jeebies.
They stepped onto the contraption they’d stepped onto before that had given them there weapon, and it almost automatically took it from them. Their face had shifted to one of disappointment as, once again, Cuttlefish pointed out the obviously obvious as he waited for them at the Octarian vault.
The Octoling had lost their memory, not their common sense.
Zipping back over the zipline, they tapped the vault with the key they acquired, and it opened, disappearing and opening up the path so they could continue down the subway tracks they’d been following; Cuttlefish pointed out how it looked just a little sketchy
“Well, we found a way out…” The old inkling muttered as they came out to a large subway platform. “Sort of…uh…”
The Octoling looked around, behind them being some kind of dispenser with around 10 lockers in 2 rows of five near it. But infront of them, further down the platform was something, illuminated by a beam of light, presumably coming from the surface.
As they approached the thing, they could hear it ringing, identifying it as a telephone of sorts. It was an old looking model, kinda resembling a face.. They reached out, ready to grab the receiver to answer the phone curiously before it..spoke?
They jumped back, startled as it talked.
“[Searching for User ID…]” It trilled robotically. “[User 10008 Confirmed.]” And it began to play a jingle, short and simple.
For the first time since waking up here, the Octoling spoke, their voice only a soft mutter. “User…10008?”
The telephone spoke again. “Greetings, 10,008. Your current location is: Deepsea Metro Central Station.”
They tilted their head a bit, waving Cuttlefish over to listen too. This might be more important than it seems.
“My primary function is to facilitate your journey to the promised land. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” It trilled again, the jingle looping softly seemingly in the background. “[Assessing communication efficiency…] [Efficiency: 12.42%] [Enabling Contemporary Speech Mode.]”
The next words out of the telephones mouth (receiver?) made their skin crawl as they cringed silently.
“What is crackalacking, home skillet? Let us bounce to the promised land fo sho. I am bout it bout it, so listen while I [SLANG_NOT_FOUND] you the facts. You have spent your entire life in the dark. Your eyes closed to the new hotness that awaits.”
God, they would rather listen to Cuttlefish ramble on about whatever he was waffling on about earlier than endure this, but they stayed silent, only sighing through their nose loudly.
“The promised land, a utopia of light beyond your wildest dreams. It is all that and a bag of cool beans. I will take you to the promised land now. NOT! HA HA HA. Psyche out. Only cats who have proven themselves can [ERROR] the promised land. Do you dig, dog?”
The Octoling pinched the bridge of their nose, sighing again as they nodded. “Yeah, go on.” Their voice was quiet, nearly inaudible to the Inkling near them as Cuttlefish squawked.
“You can sp-?!”
“Shh. It’s speaking.”
The telephone continued. “There have been 10,007 applicants so far, which makes you applicant 10,008. This opportunity comes once in a lifetime, yo. Good luck and [SLANG_NOT_FOUND]. This is the Deepsea Metro Central Station, the realio dealio central hub of the facility. Here is your CQ-80 and CQ card. They are so bad.”
The telephone dispensed a card and what looked like something vaguely phone shaped onto the ground, carelessly. “Guard them with your lizzife, because if you lose them, you will be [ERROR].”
The Octoling deadpanned like this thing didn’t just drop both onto the ground.
“Now come on ride the train. Outie 5000.”
Thank god, that thing finally shut up. They were getting a headache just listening to it speak, honestly worse than what Cuttlefish was giving them. And speak of the devil.
“Applicant 10,008, eh? That’s a beakful. I think I’ll just call you Agent 8.” Cuttlefish stated, before going on about what the “promised land” could be.
But the now-titled Agent 8 wasn’t listening, thinking about the name they were given. I guess it’s better than calling them ‘the Octoling.’
“C’mon, Agent 8! Grab those new dealie-dos and get moving!”
The said ‘dealie-dos’ Cuttlefuck was referring to were the items previously dropped on the ground by the phone, the CQ card and CQ-80. As 8 picked them up, the blaring sound of a train could be heard approaching, announcing its arrival. It pulled up, stopping right at the station Cuttlefish and the other were on, the backmost doors opening.
As Agent 8, hopped onto the train, Captain Cuttlefish followed suit and the doors closed behind them. Looks like they were in for quite the ride, no pun intended.