The Launchpad

           Amber, André, Marjani, Felicity, Caroline, Moruga, and Jolokia were all organized in a circle around the perimeter of Caroline’s kitchen – with too few chairs to go around for everyone to be able to sit at her sizable kitchen table, they had all simply opted to stand. Moruga’s arms were crossed and a sullen grimace creased his face, breaking up the dark scar lines below his eyes and on his chin, and Caroline was next to him, tapping her foot in agitation with her arms likewise folded.

           André and Jolokia were standing next to each other, with André keeping his arms folded like his former captain and teammate, and Jolokia holding her hands together, almost as if she wasn’t certain what to do with them. She was observing André intently, her expression fraught with worry. Amber and the other Outcasts each fell somewhere between Caroline and Jolokia’s expressions, with Marjani leaning more toward Caroline’s barely-contained rage and Felicity more closely resembling Jolokia’s delicate concern.

           Moruga clenched the sleeves of his Forge Octarian Jacket in his hands, as if he was trying to prevent himself from being able to use his fists to physically lash out and smash something within arm’s reach. He gritted his teeth as he looked to Caroline, hoping that her gaze would help him maintain his cool. “Well, Captain?” he asked. Caroline looked to him and nodded slowly. André unfolded his arms and looked to Caroline, trying to avoid frowning as she turned back to him.

           “We came here to meet with you guys because we were hoping you can help us do something about it,” he continued, having just finished his retelling of what had happened to him two days earlier: After a tactless thug of a man claiming to be an acquaintance of Spice Splat’s fourth member, Butch Fontina, had attempted to intimidate André into throwing any Turf War matches against his replacement, he learned that his dismissal from Spice Splat two years ago had, in fact, been fraudulently manipulated by Butch’s uncle, Salvatore Fontina.

           “We don’t have any pull with the League,” he explained, “Not as a first-season team with two rookies in the lineup. We need you guys to help us investig–” Caroline raised her hand to stop André, cutting him off. “I’m gonna level with you right now,” she started once he had paused, but before an awkward silence could set in, “We are way ahead of you.” “Way ahead of… you what?” asked André, flabbergasted at her response.

           “Did you guys know about this shit already?!” shouted Marjani, pointing an accusatory finger at Caroline, “And you didn’t tell him?!” Caroline shook her head, having lowered her hand and leaving her arms unfolded. “No, I mean we already started an investigation into this whole thing,” she revealed, “Right after it all happened, almost two years ago. We all suspected something was off, so Moruga and I went to the League the day after André left and voiced our concerns.”

           “De League found reason enough to believe us an’ handed over what dey could to help,” Moruga added, “We have all de original complaint submissions an’ security footage of de days where dey were dropped off at de League offices.” Felicity raised her hand, as if in a school class. “You don’t have to do that,” replied Caroline. “I-I just didn’t want to interrupt,” insisted Felicity, “Didn’t André say that the League wouldn’t let you know who submitted the forms, so that no one could retaliate?”

           “That was the League’s ‘reason enough to believe us,’” Jolokia finally spoke up. Moruga nodded before Caroline continued. “That’s the thing: There was no ‘who,’” she explained, “Every single form was submitted anonymously.” Amber and Marjani both looked to each other, a mixture of surprise and skepticism on their faces. “Moreover,” continued Moruga, “We compared handwritin’ an’ wordin’ across dem, and it was all nearly identical, like dey had been mass-produced by a small group of people.”

           “You guys didn’t take that back to the League?” asked Amber, “That’s unbelievably suspicious! We even thought of that before coming over here!” Jolokia shook her head. “The League was only able to investigate while the case was still open,” she replied, “Since André was already… since we had solved the issue the complaints were about, the League couldn’t open an official investigation of their own. That’s why they left it to us. Well… mostly to Caroline and Moruga.”

           Moruga released his sleeves from his vice-like grip and began to dig in his left pocket. He removed a small hard drive from it, along with a cable for connecting it to a computer. “I spent hours editin’ de security footage down to just de people going in an’ out of de offices an’ droppin’ off anythin’,” he continued, “But wit’ no names on de forms an’ no one we recognized in de footage, we hit a wall.” “Let me watch the footage,” André proposed, “If that guy from the other day is in there, that’s evidence he wasn’t lying.”

           Caroline folded her arms and looked over to Moruga. “Even if he’s in there, that still might not be enough,” she pointed out, “For all we know, he might’ve just been a courier. Even if we could track him down – without knowing who he even is, I might add – there’s a chance that his handwriting might not be on any of the forms, and that’s a waste of time for everyone involved.” She breathed in and out slowly to calm herself and turned back to the others. “We need to go deeper,” she continued, “We need proof, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that all this stuff really was Don Fontina’s doing.”

           “And for that, I think we need an audience with the man himself.”

           “An audience?” Moruga questioned his captain incredulously, every muscle on his face creasing into a scowl, “Yuh think yuh can get an audience wit’ Salvatore Fontina, one of de richest men in de city, an’ ask ‘im nicely to confess to committin’ fraud, just like dat?” Caroline smirked at her second-in-command, a hint of her inner irritation showing through the cracks. “Oh, it’s not gonna be nice,” she retorted.

           Moruga set the hard drive down on the table and put his hands together behind his back, taking a step toward Caroline, maintaining his stoic and skeptical expression. “Are yuh suggestin’ what I think yuh suggestin’?” he asked in a hushed tone, “If I know what yuh’re thinkin’, Captain, dat is a very dangerous idea.” Caroline glanced to André, who was raising his eyebrow, as if he could tell where she was going with this line of thought but didn’t dare ask if that was the case, before looking back to her right-hand man.

           “Fontina won’t let us near him if we don’t, and we don’t have enough solid evidence of meddling for the League to intervene, just some suspicious complaint forms, André’s testimony that no one else can corroborate, and footage that may or may not have one of Fontina’s lackeys whose name we don’t even know in it,” Caroline explained, “Without absolute proof, he’ll deny everything, unless we get him to slip up, and if Butch takes after his uncle, the easiest way to do that is to piss him off first.”

           “Piss him off?” asked Amber, taking a step forward, “What exactly do you have in mind to piss him off?” “Don Fontina and Butch live in a mansion over on the east coast of the city,” continued Caroline, locking eyes with her junior captain, “We’ve been over there a couple of times before, courtesy of Butch. It’s this big old place with a huge foyer, a courtyard, and two main wings, an east wing and a west wing, full of valuables, all kinds of–” “Dammit, Humboldt, what are you thinking?!” shouted Amber, “You can’t possibly think it’s a good idea to–”

           “–To trash the place?” replied Caroline, “It’s the only way I can think of to catch the guy with his pants down. I’ve met him; we all know he’s a scumbag with one of the biggest reputations in the criminal underworld, and he knows he has enemies. But he thinks his mansion is the safest place in the city for him; he’s even got respawn points installed in the foyer and the staff quarters at the back of the mansion, just in case. It’s the last place he’d be expecting us, and that’s our best bet at getting him angry enough to admit to anything.”

           “An’ den what?” asked Moruga, leaning in toward Caroline, “We just shake hands an’ go home? Report ‘im to de League? What will dey do?” “We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it,” replied Caroline staunchly, “Right now, we need to take some kind of action, and I don’t know about you, but I feel like letting off a little steam.” Moruga gritted his teeth and loomed over his captain even more, getting almost uncomfortably close to her face as his glare was menacingly shadowed by the way he’d angled his head.

           “De consequences will be severe, Caroline, even if we get ‘im to admit to it. Yuh have no exit strategy, only an axe to grind,” he argued, “Dere’s no version of dis where we smooth things over wit’ de authorities after de fact. We’ll be vandals; we’ll almost surely be banned from Turf War entirely. If I may speak freely, Captain, dis has got to be de single most half-baked idea dat yuh’ve ever had.”

           “I’m open to suggestions if you’ve got any better ideas, crabcakes,” replied Caroline, standing her ground despite Moruga’s attempts to talk her down, “But it takes a lot to piss me off, and having my team’s Roller taken away from me qualifies.” Felicity shifted uncomfortably, almost as if she were going to raise her hand again, before clearing her throat to speak up. “Um… what about Butch?” she suggested, “He might be able to arrange something.”

           Amber shook her head. “But he might get defensive if we start throwing accusations at his uncle. If we have to resort to more drastic measures like what Caroline’s suggesting, telling Butch at all might ruin our chance to get to the Don,” she responded, “We have to consider that once we let Butch in on all this, we can’t undo that. We don’t know if he knew about this, or where he’s going to stand if he didn’t. I hate to say it, but I think we can’t tell him what’s going on.”

           “Either way, he probably won’t be happy when he finds out,” interjected Jolokia. Marjani scoffed, nonchalantly itching her ear as she spoke up. “Yeah, well, he’s an ass, anyway,” she argued irritably. “Hey, now, chill out. You guys don’t know him like we do,” retorted Caroline, “He puts on a tough face, but he’s just trying not to look like a weakling.” She glanced over to André to see his reaction.

           “He’s always talking about you, you know,” she added. André’s eyes widened slightly, taken aback by her comment. “Me?” he asked, unsure of Caroline’s meaning. “He practically never shuts up about you. Always going on about wanting to earn your respect. I think he just wants you to acknowledge him as a worthwhile replacement,” explained Caroline, “He’s been in a funk ever since that match we had at Walleye, just after the Splatfest. I don’t know what happened between you two there, but he’s been kicking himself over it since then.”

           André scratched his head awkwardly as his expression fell slightly, his mouth contorting into a half-frown and his eyes betraying a sense of guilt. He sighed and lowered his arm. “…Maybe I had him figured wrong,” he admitted. “Even so, we can’t assume he’ll be on our side,” added Amber, “If we go through with this… there’ll be no going back.” Moruga shook his head. “…None of dis will end well, Captain,” he pointed out again.

           Caroline shot Moruga an irritated look, as if she was somehow surprised that he yet thought she was unaware of her own folly. “We’ve wasted two years not being able to do anything about this, Moruga!” she argued, “I’m done waiting for a legit way to set things right! We finally know that it was all fraud and who’s responsible for it! Do you want us to just do nothi–?” “–However!” Moruga interrupted her sternly, silencing her in shock with his tone.

           “Moruga Oaxaca is no coward,” he continued, “…I will not back out an’ let yuh do somethin’ so reckless alone. If I cannot convince yuh otherwise, I swear to make certain yuh do not get yuhself killed doin’ dis. It is not a good idea by any stretch, and we’re hardly justified, but I have just as much a bone to pick wit’ de Don as any of us. If I cannot quell de winds, I will be de eye of de storm.” Caroline smirked slightly at Moruga’s conclusion and turned to the others, specifically Amber.

           “Amber… You three don’t have to be a part of this,” she urged, “This is something that happened to the four of us. Your Turf War careers are just getting started; you shouldn’t risk what you guys have for our sake.” Amber simply stepped forward, shaking her head. “Listen here, Humboldt,” she asserted, looking to Marjani and Felicity for their looks of approval before continuing, “Like it or not, André is an Outcast now. We wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for him, so we’re gonna be there for him.”

           Marjani and Felicity exchanged glances and nodded to each other. “Count us in,” agreed Marjani, “The more, the merrier, right?” “André’s like the big brother I never had,” added Felicity, “I can’t chicken out now.” André turned away from the others, gulping quietly as he blinked back the tears, trying to avoid drawing attention to himself. “André…” Jolokia whispered softly, putting her hand on his arm as he controlled himself.

           Turning back to face his friends as he quieted his breathing, André could see that they all had their eyes on him. “Alright, big guy,” Caroline consulted him, “You’ve got the final say on this. I know you might not want us to go through with this, but we’re not gonna let you take the entire weight of the world on those big shoulders of yours. Not again.”

           André smirked, shaking his head. “If Moruga can’t convince you, what hope do I have?” he asked, “Truth be told, I’d rather avoid you guys all getting wrapped up in this, but we’re at a stalemate with making this right if we don’t do something. I’m tired of having to hide how I feel about this. I want Don Fontina to know he messed with the wrong team.” “Then it’s settled,” replied Caroline, “We’re all in? Moruga? Jolokia?”

           Her teammates both nodded in unison as she glanced between them. “Alright,” she continued, “Moruga, Jolokia, the three of us will get back together here around seven. You four get together at André’s and meet us at the mansion about half an hour after that. Everyone, bring your Turf War weapons and your A-game. We’re gonna make Don Fontina regret ever crossing Spice Splat.” The others each nodded and made their way out of Caroline’s kitchen to the apartment door, leaving the room one by one.

           André, the last one out, looked back into the room, leaning down slightly so that Caroline could see his head under the door frame. “You’re absolutely sure about this?” he asked. “André, you guys were the ones who needed convincing,” replied Caroline, “It’s not smart, but I don’t care anymore. It’s been too long, and we went through too much to just take it sitting down and try to get past a bunch of red tape.” André nodded. “If you’re sure,” he relented, “We can’t afford to hesitate. Tonight, it’s no-holds-barred.” He rose a few inches back to his full height and followed the others down the hall toward the apartment building’s exit.

           Caroline inspected the pieces of her Refurbished Mini Splatling, still laid out on the table after she had disassembled it for cleaning earlier, before the arrival of André and the Outcasts had delayed her planned routine. “No-holds-barred…” she murmured contemplatively as she picked up and stared at a small screw that still bore a small trace of blue ink on its end from Spice Splat’s match that morning.

             Marjani breathed out a cloud of smoke upward, tilting her head back as she did. “Slow down there, luv,” Spyke chuckled, “S’not goin’ nowhere. ‘Ere’s still plenny where ‘at came from. An’ yer gonna ruin my poor, lovely rugs blowin’ it up at ‘em like ‘at.” Marjani grinned. “Sorry, it’s just…” she muttered, “I got places to be, people to see, you know?” “Oh?” asked Spyke, sipping whatever alcoholic concoction his associate Nico had mixed up for him, “Now you’ve gone an’ piqued my interest. What’s goin’ on, luv?”

           Marjani paused briefly, wondering if she should tell Spyke the truth about what the Outcasts and Spice Splat were planning. “No, wait, lemme guess,” interrupted Spyke before she could speak, “S’a boy, ain’t it? You’ve got yourself a date, I bet?” At this, Nico, sitting adjacent to the two with his own cigarette, raised an eyebrow and looked at Spyke skeptically. “Wot?” protested Spyke, “S’a good guess, ain’t it?”

           “It’s not a fuckin’ date,” laughed Marjani, before taking another puff from the joint Spyke had rolled for her, “We’re, uh… well, we’re gettin’ together over at the Fontina mansion.” “‘We?’” asked Spyke before taking another liberal sip of his drink, “An’ who, pray tell, is ‘we?’” “My teammates,” replied Marjani, “And, uh… Spice Splat.” “Spice Splat?” Spyke pressed, “I fought you an’ yer teammates hated Spice Splat. At leas’, I know you do.”

           “S-somethin’ came up,” replied Marjani, dodging the question as best as she could as she realized that perhaps she’d said too much, “Things have, uh… changed. So we’re all gonna get together tonight and trash– uh… get trashed over at the mansion.” Nico glanced back and forth between Spyke and Marjani, his eyebrow raised once more. “Nico’s right,” said Spyke dubiously, shaking his head, “Yer not tellin’ the whole story.”

           Marjani’s face contorted slightly at Spyke’s accusation. “That obvious…?” she admitted, “Alright, fine… can you guys keep a secret?” Spyke grinned, looking to Nico with his head lolling. “Can I keep a secret, she asks,” he chuckled, “Well, I know I can, but I don’t know ‘bout ol’ Nico ‘ere.” Nico narrowed his eyes, looking at Spyke in confusion, as though he either didn’t understand the joke or at least didn’t find it nearly as humorous.

           “Alright, so…” Marjani started, “…We’re actually gonna fuck the mansion up. We found out the Fontinas were behind André gettin’ kicked off of Spice Splat a couple years ago, so we’re gonna get even.” “The Giant Squid?” asked Spyke, sipping his drink again. “Kraken,” Marjani corrected him. “Right, Kraken, same fing,” replied Spyke indifferently, waving his hand at her response. “No, it’s not, a Kraken’s bigger,” insisted Marjani.

           “No, it ain’t, ain’t it?” Spyke argued, “‘Sides, ‘e’s a giant squid an’ a Kraken user, wot’s it mattah?” “‘Cause that’s not what people call him!” replied Marjani, “They call him ‘the Kraken’ because his Kraken’s fuckin’ huge! I mean, like, seriously, you ever seen that thing?” Spyke shrugged. “Only on TV,” he conceded. “Dude, gotta say; it scared me the first time I saw it, but it’s awesome when he does that,” continued Marjani, grinning once more as her voice trailed off. Nico simply looked between the two and shook his head as the conversation lulled to a sudden stop.

             Felix straightened out his skirt as he inspected himself in the mirror. He took several deep breaths as he tried to calm himself. He was scared out of his wits at what he’d gotten himself into, but he couldn’t let that stop him, not anymore. He knew he couldn’t get cold feet now; André and the others – the people who had accepted him upon learning the truth about his dual life – were counting on him to fight alongside them, and he would never forgive himself if he backed out and one of them got hurt because of it.

           The others had all been trying to hide it – except maybe Caroline – but Felix could tell that they were as nervous as he was about what they were about to do. Still, he wanted to look his best. Mafia or not, he had no plans of going in looking disheveled and terrified. He had redone parts of his makeup a couple of times already to make sure it was perfect. He inspected his work in the mirror again just to be sure.

           Feeling mentally prepared, Felicity turned away from the mirror and adjusted her outfit one last time. She made her way over to her bedroom door and reached down to pick up her Squiffer in its tote bag and sling it over her shoulder. A sudden unexpected knock on the door caused her to jump slightly. “Sweetie?” asked the soft voice on the other side of the door. Felicity cringed as her heart skipped a beat – how was she supposed to explain all of this to her mother?

           The door began to swing open before Felicity had prepared her alibi, and she could barely react in time before she was face-to-face with her mother. “Are you–?” Ms. Quinn began to ask before seeing Felicity before her, “–Sorry, I thought you’d be more dressed down by now.” The two paused for a moment as Felicity froze up, her voice catching in her throat.

           “Actually…” continued Ms. Quinn, “You look more like you’re getting ready to go out somewhere.” “I-I…” stuttered Felicity, “…I a-am.” “At this hour?” Ms. Quinn questioned skeptically, leaning against the doorframe and crossing her arms, “And when were you going to tell me?” “J-just now,” replied Felicity. “A little last-minute, don’t you think, sweetie?” asked her mother. “Y-yeah, sorry,” murmured Felicity sheepishly, “I-I almost forgot.”

           “Where are you headed?” asked Ms. Quinn, standing back upright and stepping back into the hall so that Felicity could follow her. “W-we’re, uh… getting together with André’s old teammates,” Felicity explained. “Team Spice Splat, right?” Ms. Quinn continued, following Felicity down the hall, “Is that why you’ve got your bag?” “Mm-hmm,” Felicity confirmed, struggling to keep her cool, “Moruga’s gonna… teach me how to disassemble my Squiffer and put it back together.”

           “Moruga is their sniper, right?” asked Ms. Quinn as the two descended the staircase from the loft balcony overlooking their living room, “The tall, dark, and handsome one?” “Oh my gosh, Mom,” giggled Felicity as they reached the living room, “Please don’t say that again. Moruga is… well…” “Oh, don’t you say it,” Ms. Quinn jokingly warned her, “…You are right, though, he’s much too young for me. And I can do just fine on my own, anyway.”

           She paused, folding her arms. “…What about you?” she asked casually. “M-me?!” stammered Felicity in surprise as the two neared the front door, “Mom!” “I-I’m sorry, sweetie,” Ms. Quinn suddenly retracted her insinuation, “I-I didn’t mean to assume. Y-you just don’t talk about dating much. I don’t know if… well…” Felicity sighed, hanging her head. “I don’t know, either…” she admitted, “I’m just… still kinda trying to figure me out.”

           She turned to face her mother and looked up at her before glancing down again and taking a step forward to embrace her mother. Ms. Quinn reciprocated the hug, smiling warmly. “But I do know that I love you, Mom,” Felicity continued, “Th-thanks… for everything.” Ms. Quinn squeezed her child just a little more tightly. “Aww, sweetie…” she fawned, “I love you, too. What’s this all of a sudden?” Felicity pulled away, trying to avoid crying so that she wouldn’t have to waste time doing her makeup again.

           “I-I just felt like I needed a hug, that’s all,” she reasoned. “Well, there’s more where that came from when you get home, if you want,” replied Ms. Quinn, her hands still on Felicity’s shoulders, rubbing them affectionately. “Mm-hmm,” Felicity smiled as her mother lowered her arms back to her sides. Felicity turned to open the front door.

           “B-bye, Mom,” she stuttered, keeping up her grin as best as she could, “I-I’ll… try to be back before curfew.” “Say hi to everyone for me,” replied Ms. Quinn as she smiled back. Felicity closed the door behind her, sighing once on the other side as she set out to return to André’s apartment, where the two of them were to convene with Amber and Marjani.

             Amber swam up through the thin ink trail she had painted on the side of the building swiftly and stealthily, making sure she hadn’t been seen as she leapt out of her ink at the top and landed on the stone-covered rooftop. She made her way over to a small water tower located on the building and dug her left hand into her hoodie’s pocket. Producing a tiny metal box with a magnet on one side, she opened it up and unfolded the piece of paper she’d placed inside to re-read it one last time:

 Maverink, I don’t know when you’ll get this, and I don’t know where I’ll be then. If things somehow go really, really wrong, I might even be dead. I hope not, but it might happen. If I get out on the other side of this okay, I’ll leave another drop to let you know as soon as I can, but you’ll probably come check up on me at my apartment before then. But if something happens to me, I want you to know that I’m sorry for everything that happened. For disappearing the way I did without telling you; for not being there after Commander Haliphron was KIA; for trying to run again when you found me.

 I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye on everything, and I regret never apologizing to the Commander for that, either. But it’s like you said; I’m all you have left of Mother and Father, and ever since I saw you again, I’ve been realizing that you’re the same for me. I’m sorry that I forgot that and tried to leave it all behind. If I can’t see this through, I need you to do something for me.

 We’re going to be taking on Don Salvatore Fontina and his mafia at the Fontina mansion tonight. Two years ago, he wronged one of my teammates by getting him kicked off of his old team with fraudulent complaints, and we’re going to get back at him for it. I know, it’s stupid and petty, but he’s gone too long without paying for the things he’s done, not just this. If we can’t do it, I need you to step in. We’re going to try and do this our way, but if that fails, I need you to pull out all the stops.

 I already risked drawing attention to myself with the incident with Felicity’s dad. “Miriam” has to lay low now, and that limits what “Amber” can do to try and get Fontina. But you have the means to operate outside the law more freely than I do right now. Please do whatever it takes to bring him down. Find whatever you can to help someone nail his ass for all the criminal activity he’s done. You found me through investigating Felicity, so I know you can find something on him. If you have to, just splat the bastard, but I’d rather that be a last resort. If we can avoid it, I don’t want anyone to die for this, not even him. This should be about justice, not revenge.

 If something happens, I want you to know that I love you.

Miriam

             Amber sighed as she refolded the note to her brother before placing it back inside and closing the box. Reaching underneath one of the supporting struts on the water tower, between two of its four legs, she used the magnet to affix it to an inconspicuous spot on the inside, where it would wait for Maverink to find at some point within the next few days.

           She stepped back, checking to see if she could see any part of the box at a glance in case, for whatever reason, someone other than Maverink came up to that rooftop first, and stuffed her left hand back into her now-empty pocket again, her Octoshot shaking in her right. Her bottom lip quivered as she fought back the tears, turning around to leave the rooftop and rendezvous with the others back at André’s apartment.

             André led the other Outcasts as the sun set behind the city’s skyline. It was an unusual change of pace for the team, whom he often lagged behind to avoid overtaking them, but today, he and the others all walked with purpose and resolution. Taking the back roads to avoid drawing stares, the group made their way down the sidewalk, the outer wall of the cliffside Fontina Mansion on their left.

           Spotting Moruga and Jolokia ahead, André glanced back over his shoulder. “You guys ready for this?” he asked, “…Last chance to go home.” Marjani rolled her eyes in annoyance. “How many times do we gotta fuckin’ tell you?” she repeated, “We’re not goin’ home!” “Language, Marjie,” Felicity reminded her teammate, “…Though you are right. We’re not leaving you here to do this yourself.”

           Amber breathed in deeply and exhaled softly, trying not to draw her teammates’ attention. “Right, Cap?” asked Marjani nonchalantly. “H-huh?” Amber stuttered, clearly distracted. “Yo, you okay?” asked Marjani. “Y-yeah,” replied Amber, “It’s just been a while since I saw… actual combat. I’m… I need to psych myself up for it again.” “Oh, geez, that’s right,” Marjani realized, looking back to André.

           André stopped and turned to look Amber in the eye. “You’re sure you’re up for this?” he reiterated. “Oh, don’t you give me that look,” Amber rebuked him in a hushed tone, her confidence now clear in her voice, “I’m the only one of us with real combat experience. If anything, I’m the only one here who shouldn’t be nervous. I’m trained for this. I just need a minute to get myself back in that mindset, and then you guys will get to see what I’ve been holding back in Turf War.”

           André turned back and continued the last short stretch down the sidewalk to where Moruga and Jolokia were waiting, looking around in confusion. “Where’s Caroline?” he asked, “I thought you three were all coming together.” Moruga shook his head. “She sent us on ahead to do some scoutin’,” he replied, “Wanted us to confirm dat Don Fontina is even here tonight.” “And?” asked Amber.

           Jolokia nodded. “He’s here,” she revealed, “…But so is Butch.” “What do we do about him?” asked Felicity, “Wh-what if he… he wouldn’t… would he?” Moruga shook his head. “Butch values what we have,” he stated, “I doubt we’ll end up against him. If we see him, we need to take precautions not to hurt him.” “Ugggh,” Marjani grumbled. “Do not even think about it,” Moruga emphasized, pointing to Marjani sternly. “Fine,” she relented, “But if he shoots at me, I’m not gonna just sit there and take it!”

           “He won’t,” retorted a voice behind the Outcasts, “I have faith.” André and the others turned to see Caroline, just as she was arriving. Her usual smirk had returned, perhaps due to what she was lugging with her: A massive Splatling, far larger than her usual Refurbished Mini Splatling. The Outcasts’ jaws dropped as André began to reciprocate his former captain’s grin. Moruga simply shook his head with a small smile of his own.

           “The old Hydra. How long’s it been since I’ve seen that?” André asked, “Does it still work after all this time?” “I needed a little extra time to get her back together,” replied Caroline, “But she’s oiled up and ready to spit fire like the old days. I figured it’s as good an occasion as any to bring back the Reaper.” “Auggh!” shouted Marjani, “No fair! I was gonna make a joke about how my Splatling’s bigger when you got here!”

           The others each burst into laughter at Marjani’s unexpected quip, the sudden infectious hilarity even causing her to join in. As the group’s amusement subsided, they felt a wave of morale and unity wash over them, as if their thoughts were all synchronizing with each other at once. Caroline kept grinning. “Amber, can I ask something of you?” she inquired. “Shoot,” replied Amber, “Just not literally, please.”

           “I want you to lead us,” Caroline confessed, her grin softening. Amber raised her eyebrows, stunned by the proposal. “I-I, uh…” she stammered, “W-why me?” Caroline glanced down to Amber’s Octoshot, causing her counterpart to lift it to her chest somewhat defensively, as if she meant to hide it. “You’re a Splattershot-type user,” explained Caroline, causing Amber to exhale quietly in relief.

           “Moruga told me your story about that Octoshot Replica of yours, which makes me think you’re better than you give yourself credit,” she continued, “And…” She took a few steps forward, smiling at Amber as she tried to make eye contact through the junior captain’s opaque Tinted Shades. “I’ve seen firsthand the kinds of gambits you can think of under pressure,” she concluded, “That play back at the Splatfest still sticks with me as one of the single greatest daredevil comebacks I’ve ever seen.” Amber tried not to blush at Caroline’s compliment.

           “Plus, there’s something I like about your style,” added Caroline, “There’s something… rigid to it. You give orders, and that’s that. You adapt when needed, but you rarely hesitate. You know what needs to be done, and you do what’s necessary to execute it. I don’t even know how you got Marjani to listen; even Butch was more obedient than her early on. If we’re going all-out tonight, we can’t go with my style, just letting everyone do their thing as best as they can. We need organization, and, frankly, you’re better at that on the fly than I am.”

           She looked over to Moruga. “Any objections this time, crabcakes?” she asked jokingly. Moruga shook his head. “I trust yuh judgment, Captain,” he replied, “Yuh logic is sound to me. But if things go wrong…” He made eye contact with Amber, who nodded at him. “I will be more den willin’ to take over. We cannot afford stubbornness,” he finished, “Dere is no clock on dis match. We must fight to hold de line indefinitely.”

           Caroline stepped forward, into the middle of the group, just in front of the gate. “Alright, guys,” she murmured as she set her Splatling down momentarily to pull her Squid Nordic’s goggles down over her eyes and fit them into place. She picked her weapon back up and smirked at the others, all eyes on her.

           “Who’s ready to bring the heat?”

             The brightly-lit foyer of the Fontina Mansion gleamed, its immaculate white floors and walls reflecting as much light as possible from several elaborate chandeliers to create a regal, heavenly effect. If not for the darkness through the windows on either side of the large main doors, one wouldn’t even be able to tell the time of day. A large, ornate staircase extended upward on the path straight from the door to a balcony overlooking the foyer. Doors present on both levels of the floor led to the east and west wings as well as out onto the balconies overlooking the open courtyard area beyond the staircase. A single respawn point, normally only found on official Turf War grounds, was located front and center in the room, though the foyer was devoid of anyone to use it.

           A faint siren began to wail throughout the mansion and the grounds outside, signaling the beginning of the combined assault from the two Turf War teams. After a few moments, a few muffled shouts could be heard outside of the entrance, followed by loud thuds. The doors to the foyer swung open, André, Amber, and Caroline leading the charge inside while taking care to step over the now-unconscious security guard at their feet just outside the door.

           As the group filed into the room, Caroline pointed to the respawn point and the group wordlessly made their way over to it, though André and Moruga stopped to close the doors behind them, locking them to slow any of the guards trying to come in from outside. One by one, each one of them transformed into their squid forms to splash into the pool of synthetic ink filling it, starting with Caroline, whose dive tinted it her signature red shade, causing each of the others to have their tentacles changed to her color in turn, save for the tips, which maintained their natural hues.

           The now scarlet-tentacled group lined up side-by-side, with Amber doing as Caroline had requested and stepping in front of the other six to speak to them all. “Alright, we’ve only got a couple of minutes before security gets here, so listen up,” she instructed, the others all standing at attention, “We need to find where Fontina’s holed up and regroup there. No one confronts him without the rest of us, understood?” Her comrades each nodded silently, awaiting their orders.

           “Now, we don’t really want to be slapped with property damage charges when this is over,” she continued, “I know we want to get back at him and piss him off, but we may have already made enough of a splash just by barging in here. Let’s try and make sure our targets are the security guards. Caroline, you said they have a respawn point of their own, right?” Caroline nodded. “Yeah, in the security center at the back of the mansion,” she replied.

           “Then we don’t have to worry about holding back,” continued Amber, “But that also gives them the advantage of attrition if they can keep coming back.” “Not exactly,” interjected Moruga, “Dese are low-power models; dey’ll bring us and de guards back from a splat, yes, but not in de best shape.” Felicity gulped. “Wh-what do you mean by that?” she asked hesitantly. “It means we’ll probably be unconscious after respawning,” explained Jolokia.

           The others each traded nervous glances. “That’s fine, that’s okay,” Amber reassured them, pushing her sunglasses up slightly, “That’s perfect, actually… So long as we splat more of them than they do us. Actually…” She breathed in deeply and sighed with relief, briefly looking away from the group. “If anything, it means we’ll all get out of this alive,” she murmured, “…Probably.” She turned back to the others.

           “But that just means we have to protect this area as best as we can,” she continued, “Caroline, Marjani, you’re our Splatlings, you’ve got range and firepower. That makes you our best bet to hold this foyer so we can use that respawn point safely if something happens to any of us.” She then turned to Felicity and Moruga, pointing at the two of them as she spoke their names.

           “Felicity, Moruga, I want you guys in the courtyard on the second-level balconies. If we can keep them out of that area, they’ll have to take the long way around to get into the wings and won’t be able to flush us out while we search,” she directed before turning to the last pair, “André, Jolokia, I want you two searching the east wing, off to the right side of the stairs there; I’ll take the west.” “Whoa, whoa, whoa, hold up!” interrupted Caroline, “You’re going there alone? No, I’m going with you.”

           Amber crossed her arms. “Caroline, we don’t have an even number of people. Marjani needs the Reaper here with her to hold the line, and her mobility isn’t ideal for searching rooms. The same goes for Moruga and Felicity; we need to make sure we have enough of us here in the foyer and the courtyard to keep those areas on lockdown,” she argued, “And as nice as it would be to have André backing me up, I’m not sending Jolokia to search an entire wing without him there to keep her safe.”

           Caroline stared down Amber, her sternness almost masking her uncertainty. “Please…” added Amber, “…Just trust that I can handle it solo.” Caroline frowned and closed her eyes with a loud, deep exhalation, seeing the logic in Amber’s decision and realizing the futility of arguing it. “Y-you’re sure about this, Amber?” asked Felicity. “Definitely,” replied Amber, nodding, “…I’m not sending anyone else in alone.”

           She looked down the line of her friends standing before her – André, Jolokia, Felicity, Marjani, Moruga, and Caroline, and nodded solemnly. “Alright, you have your orders,” she concluded, “André, Jolokia, if you find Don Fontina in the east wing, reconvene here to back up Marjani and Caroline and make sure this point is secure before we go after him. Figure out a way to round the rest of us up and get over there as soon as possible. He may try to run instead of hide. Do what you can to keep him in one place. I’ll do the same if I find him on the west side. Now, let’s get out there!”

           Felicity and Moruga rushed up the stairway as Marjani and Caroline began to rev up their Splatlings, covering the foyer in as much ink as they could to gain a preemptive movement advantage once the security guards arrived. André and Jolokia moved toward the door off to the right side of the staircase, with Amber heading toward the left side on her own.

           “Everyone!” shouted Caroline over the roar of the two Splatlings, causing everyone to turn back and look at her. After a brief pause to make sure she had everyone’s attention, she smiled. “Good luck out there,” she said. André nodded and smiled. “Same to you,” he replied, before turning back and heading through the door after Jolokia, his Roller slung up on his shoulder.

             Butch rushed down the hall as the sirens blared, wearing his usual White Inky Rider, though his usual 18K Aviators were absent at this time of night, leaving his gray eyes exposed. “Da hell’s goin’ on?!” he murmured as he made his way toward his uncle Sal’s office, hoping to find him there and make some sense of what was happening. Just before he could put his hand on the handle to the large double doors, he heard it turn and the door swung open, leaving him with his hand outstretched. “Butch!” hissed a voice.

           Standing behind the door with a solemn expression on his face was Butch’s uncle, Salvatore Fontina. He stood only a little taller than his nephew, his short, orange tentacles graying around his ears and tied back on the back of his head, and a smaller, far grayer goatee surrounding his frown. His face was covered in an abundance of stress-induced wrinkles, giving him a hardened, aged look, and his sunken, gray eyes met Butch’s with a piercing gaze. His white suit and black tie matched the color scheme of the mansion’s own interior.

           “Oh, thank cod, you’re already here!” he rumbled, his husky voice simultaneously easing Butch’s fears with its familiarity while also leaving him on edge with its urgency. “Uncle Sal, what da hell’s goin’ on?!” Butch asked agitatedly. “No time to explain!” growled Salvatore, grabbing Butch by the wrist and dragging him into the office, “Get in here, I’m lockin’ da door!” “Uncle Sal!” shouted Butch as his uncle released him to bolt the door shut.

           “Dere’s a break-in goin’ on,” continued Salvatore, “Security’s takin’ care of it, but youse and I are gonna stay in here ‘til it’s blown ovah.” Butch’s eyes widened and his jaw dropped slightly. “A-A break-in?!” he asked in shock, “Who da hell would dare ta break inta here?” “I’m not sure yet,” replied Salvatore, “I’m pullin’ up da security feed on my computah right now.” Walking over to his desk, Fontina leaned down to inspect the computer screen that could fold down into the desk itself as part of its surface.

           “Dey’re all ovah da place…” he growled, “Dese fuckin’ kids came right in da front door. What da hell do I pay dose numbskulls for?” “Kids?” asked Butch, joining his uncle. “Yeah, seven of da little shits, by da looks of it,” replied Salvatore, “Buncha vandals or somethin’, I don’t care why dey’re here.” He reached up to press a button on a small device clipped onto his suit’s collar. “You fuckwits bettah round dose kids up! What am I payin’ youse for?!” he shouted into the microphone, “You hear me?! I. Want. Dem. Gone!”

           Butch studied the live video feed, his eyes and jaw even wider than before. “What da fuck…?!” he wheezed in surprise, “D-dat’s Spice Splat! Dat’s my teammates! And da Outcasts are wit’ ‘em! What da hell?!” Salvatore looked over his shoulder to his nephew, bewildered. “Youse know dem?! Your teammates?” he shouted, “Den what da hell are dey doin’ here?!” “I dunno, lemme go out dere and talk to dem!” protested Butch, “Maybe I can find out what–!”

           “–Fuggedaboutit!” bellowed Salvatore, “If youse know dem, chances are dey’re here fuh some reason relatin’ ta youse! You’re stayin’ put right here wit’ me, hear?” Butch gritted his teeth. “Uncle Sal, I might be able to stop all dis if you let me–!” he began, only to be interrupted again. “–Absolutely not!” Salvatore roared, his voice growing hoarse as he continued to maintain his volume, “I’m not lettin’ youse go out dere and get hurt in all dis!”

           Butch sighed. “Alright, fine!” he backed down, “But when security rounds dem up, I wanna talk to dem an’ find out why da hell dey’re doin’ dis.” Salvatore huffed angrily, his enraged snort reminiscent of that of an irate bull. “Fine,” he snapped, his volume finally lowering, “Aftuh security rounds dem up.” He and Butch looked back to the security footage feed to watch as the battle between the Fontina security forces and the combined might of the Outcasts and Spice Splat unfolded.

           “Oh, shit…” murmured Salvatore, “Youse said dose Outsider kids were here wit’ your team?” “Yeah, I don’t know why,” answered Butch. “Dat’s da team wit’ dat giant squid kid, right?” asked Salvatore, “Da one who was on your team before youse?” “Yeah, André,” Butch confirmed. Salvatore covered his mouth with his hand in shock, falling silent pensively as he watched André and Jolokia on the footage.

             André swung his Roller with all his might, hooking it around one of the security guards who’d gotten too close before spinning around, throwing the unlucky man a few meters into another guard. He dove into the red ink and retreated backward, dodging the fire of several other guards who were spraying their orange ink toward him and Jolokia. “André, this way!” shouted Jolokia over the noise of the numerous Splattershots and whizzing ink bullets.

           André sprang out of the ink and flicked his Roller to send a wave of ink and the guards before turning to follow Jolokia through a large glass door as quickly as he could, outside of the east wing and onto a large, concrete patio area, presumably reserved for parties. Driven away from their goal of searching the rooms of the east wing for Don Fontina, they took cover behind a series of immaculately-trimmed potted hedges on the far end of the patio, inking as much of the ground as they could on the way there.

           As the two stopped to catch their breath, André glanced over the nearby railing, realizing that this side of the mansion rested on a cliffside overlooking the harsh waters of Inkopolis’ bay. He hadn’t realized it when the group had arrived; the road that they had taken to get to the mansion in the first place eventually led to a beach, but he didn’t think the descent from the mansion itself was going to be this harsh. The drop was at least thirty feet, and he couldn’t even see what rocky dangers hid just below the surface of the churning waves.

           He breathed deeply, releasing a guttural sigh. “Well…” he muttered, before jokingly pointing out the obvious, “This is terrible.” Jolokia simply looked at him, the fear in her eyes twisting his gut. “Didn’t think… they’d have this many guards in one area,” André panted, “Think they figured out why we’re here? If they know it’s because of me, it would make sense to send more of them after me than anyone else.” Jolokia furrowed her brow.

           “Stop it!” she cried. André nearly jumped at her reaction, the ocean spraying up the cliffside and filling the air around the two with a light mist. “Stop trying to take the blame for everything!” Jolokia shouted, tears welling up in her eyes, “I-I can’t do it anymore! I c-can’t watch you keep letting yourself get hurt for the s-sake of everyone else around you!”

           André was speechless at his former teammate’s sudden emotional outburst. “You said yourself t-two years ago that it was never about you, it was about the team! It w-was about us!” Jolokia continued, “What happened to that? What made you give up, André?!” André wasn’t sure what to say. “I-I did what I thought I had to, Jolokia,” he stammered. “Didn’t it mean anything to you?” Jolokia sniffled. “Oi, we know youse two are out here!” shouted one of the guards’ voices from the other side of the patio, “Drop dose weapons an’ come out wit’ yer hands where we can see dem!”

           Jolokia’s breathing quickened. After glancing in the direction of the guards, André looked back to Jolokia. “Of course it did,” he finally replied, “I-I just… I…” Trying to figure out his response, he sighed. “Look, Jolokia, can we… can we talk about this later?” he asked, “Now’s not really the best time–” “–There might not b-be a better time! We’re pinned d-down out here!” Jolokia wailed, “I-I’m scared that I’ll never be able to tell you–”

           “–Don’t,” André interrupted her, “Don’t say that. We’re getting out of this, okay?” “But what if they–” Jolokia attempted to speak again, only for André to simply put one of his massive fingers to her lips to quiet her. “That wasn’t an ‘if,’” he asserted, “It’s fact. We are getting out of this. And we are going to talk about this later.” He leaned in and planted a brief kiss on her forehead, before pulling back and looking her in the eye. He stood up, leaving his Roller on the ground as he remained slightly hunched behind the hedges, before turning around, rising to his full height. “After all…” he rumbled.

           “…I still owe you a coffee.”

           André stepped out from behind the hedges, his arms at his sides. Jolokia’s voice caught in her throat, as much as she wanted to scream for him to stop. “Easy dere, stretch!” shouted one of the guards, standing at the front of the group while the others kept their Splattershots aimed at him. André took one brief look at the man before his mouth curled into a snarl – it was the same lackey who’d tried to confront him two days earlier, sparking this series of events. The man smirked. “Alright, we got da big guy,” he spoke up, making sure he could be heard above the crashing water below the cliffside, “Now where’s dat pretty little…”

           The man’s voice trailed off as he and his allies watched André, who had begun growling angrily, his voice rapidly deepening. Their gazes all slowly traveled upward as André’s shadow morphed and swelled to envelop the group, transforming into the familiar shape of his colossal Kraken. Jolokia watched in shock from behind the hedges as a few of the guards began to back away. The guard in front was petrified as his face twisted into a reflection of his fear, attempting to stutter out some sort of threat – or any response, for that matter.

             Moruga took aim with his Splatterscope and fired, splatting another one of the Fontina guards. He scanned the courtyard, watching carefully to try and make sure no guards could get through. Felicity was off to his right, doing the same with her Squiffer. Other than the occasional shot or the sound of the security alarm still going off, the ink-coated courtyard was quiet, with tension hanging in the air as if frozen in time.

           “Hroooaaaaar!”

           Moruga jumped as he suddenly heard a distant roar off to his right, far past Felicity and outside of the courtyard itself, in the direction of the east wing. As his head jolted to look over that way, he could see that Felicity had had the same reaction. The two watched in stunned silence as one of the Fontina security guards flew through the air, screaming as he tumbled uncontrollably before landing in a bush in the courtyard with a rather painful-looking splat. “Huh,” the bewildered Moruga mused, just loudly enough for Felicity to hear.

           “I guess somebody made André angry.”

             The resounding thunder of André’s roar could barely be heard on the other side of the mansion, where Amber was currently huddled down behind a tall, rectangular pedestal with an expensive-looking vase set on top of it. Ink bullets flew by her as she tried to regain her breath. As she’d been trying to check each room in the wing for Fontina, she’d been accosted by more security guards than expected, and a firefight had broken out the moment they spotted her.

           “Oi, youse numbskulls, don’t hit dat vase!” shouted one of the guards over the cacophony, “Or it’ll be comin’ outta your paychecks!” Amber clutched her arm, trying to regain her breath. She was no stranger to wounds on the battlefield, but that didn’t mean they stung any less. There was barely any part of the floor covered in the red color that everyone had set, so her options for movement and mitigating the damage done to her arm using the ink were limited.

           Time was running out for her to make a choice about how to proceed, but as much as she tried, she couldn’t come up with a good plan. “Dammit!” she hissed to herself, fighting the urge to start crying, “Dammit! This wasn’t supposed to happen!” She lifted her Octoshot and stared at her reflection in its ink tank. “What would the Commander do?” she asked herself quietly.

           She thought back to what Maverink had told her, how their adoptive father had died a year earlier fighting an escaping prisoner in the chaos following Grand Admiral Octavio’s downfall, and shook uncontrollably in fear at the thought of that happening to her. What if Caroline and Marjani were in trouble? What if the respawn point was no longer active, and the squids weren’t safe from being splatted for good? She couldn’t get the thought out of her head, as much as she tried.

           “Hold it!” shouted the apparent leader of the security guards, causing the others to stop firing and merely keep their weapons trained on the area where they knew Amber was taking cover, “Alright, girlie, we’re gonna play nice an’ give youse to da count o’ three ta come out wit’ your hands up, see?” Amber gripped her Octoshot and held it close to her chest. She knew she couldn’t trust them not to hurt her, but trying to catch them off guard by going on the offensive would be far too risky and likely fruitless, given their numbers.

           “One!” shouted the leader, the guards around him beginning to close in on Amber’s location, “Two!” he continued, “Come on, don’t make dis harder, girlie!” Amber gulped as she pushed her back up against the pedestal, fighting her hastening breaths. This was it; she had to make her stand now. She began to push herself back to her feet, as much as her knees wanted to buckle. She held her Octoshot firmly in one hand, trying to push her sunglasses back up her nose with the injured arm, only to wince in pain.

           “Last chance, now!” continued the guard, “Thr–oof!” Amber heard the guard’s voice get interrupted by the sound of him being splatted. Startled by the noise, she waited a few moments as the other guards began to scream and open fire. She covered her ears in terror and slid back down the pedestal. One by one, however, the chaos of the guards quieted down with a few thuds, until one finally fell on his back next to Amber, shocking her out of her stupor.

           The guard, still conscious, looked over to Amber, a look of pure horror on his face and an open gash on his chest. He reached toward her vainly before suddenly splatting in an explosion of purple ink, being sent back to the security team’s respawn point. “That’s the last of them,” mused a voice suddenly, causing Amber’s eyes to widen behind her shades, “Now, then…”

           A pair of expensive-looking brown shoes poked around the corner of the pedestal, along with the tip of an all-too-familiar golden blade. A pair of black pants rose from the shoes to a matching suit coat as Amber looked up at her savior. Her eyes met those of her older brother as he smiled down to her. “Maverink!” she shouted in surprise, “You’re here?!” “I said I’d be around to keep an eye on you, didn’t I?” answered her brother smugly, extending his off hand to her, “Now, on your feet, soldier, you’re not getting sloppy on me yet.”

           Amber dropped her Octoshot and took her brother’s hand, holding back her tears of relief as best she could and allowing him to pull her to her feet. “You know I’m not a soldier anymore,” she insisted. Maverink clicked his tongue in mock realization. “Oh, right,” he replied sarcastically, “So would you rather I call you ‘deserter?’ Or perhaps ‘traitor?’ Or just ‘Amber?’” Amber glared at her brother through her shades, taking a step back to pick up her Octoshot in her good arm again.

           Maverink sighed and rolled his distinctive green eyes. “Sorry, forgot you can’t take a joke, Sis,” he conceded. “A joke?!” asked Amber incredulously, “It’s not funny when you damn near tried to kill me last time!” Maverink narrowed his eyes, his smile vanishing. “I did nothing of the sort!” he protested, putting his free hand on his chest, “Not one thing I did was done with any sort of lethal intent!”

           Amber broke eye contact with her brother, realizing he was right. “Alright, fine, maybe I’m exaggerating,” she admitted, “Sorry… I guess I’m still a little bitter.” Maverink’s gaze softened as he took a step forward to put his hand on his sister’s shoulder. “I’m not much better…” he agreed, “‘Traitor’ was a bit harsh of me. Sorry.” Amber stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her brother. “It’s okay…” she muttered, “…It is kind of true, after all.”

           As the two separated, Maverink looked his sister in the eye quizzically. “…What are you doing here with no backup, Mimi?” he asked, almost as if scolding her. “I-I’ve got backup,” countered Amber, “I’ve got you.” Maverink raised an eyebrow. “Your tone doesn’t make it sound like you knew I’d come,” he contended. “I-I didn’t…” Amber confessed, looking down again, “I didn’t think that you’d get the dead drop this quickly…”

           She looked up at her brother again, her expression one of mild irritation. “Or that you’d come here instead of doing what I asked,” she continued. Maverink smirked and shook his head. “Who said I didn’t?” he retorted. Amber’s jaw dropped. “You found something on Fontina already?!” she questioned. “Something like that,” replied Maverink vaguely, turning away from his sister, “…So, you came to search this wing alone. Any particular reason?”

           “I-I can clear rooms faster on my own than with the others,” stuttered Amber, sidling up next to her brother, “They don’t have the same kind of training we do. It’s easier for them to keep up with each other than with me.” Maverink was silent for a moment, not making eye contact with his sister again as she stood next to him. “…You wanted to prove you could handle it yourself,” he concluded, “…Am I right?”

           Amber fell quiet. “Miriam,” Maverink continued, looking to his sister once more, “You don’t have to prove anything anymore.” Amber looked away from him and shook her head. “…I’m not trying to prove anything; not that it should’ve been me that day. It’s to make sure none of them are alone here. They’re safer in groups of two,” she insisted, “…I’m not trying to beat my regrets, Maverink. I’m just learning from them.” Maverink nodded slowly in understanding.

           “…I see,” he acknowledged, “…You’ve grown.” The two finally began to make their way down the now-empty hallway, opening each door and making sure that Fontina wasn’t behind any of them. Finally, Amber arrived at a pair of large, double doors near the very end of the hall. “Hold on,” she whispered quietly, “This one might be it.” She placed her hand on the handle, finding it to be firmly locked. “That’s likely to be it,” agreed Maverink, “Unless we’re dealing a man so wealthy that he needs his broom closets to be as ornate as his master bedrooms.”

           He put his hand on his hip and let his other arm, holding his Fountain Saber, dangle freely. “But let’s not be too hasty,” he continued. “We should go back and help the others,” replied Amber, “We need to confront him together, and they might be in trouble without us.” “I wouldn’t worry about the others,” replied Maverink, shaking his head, “After all, what good would I have been as backup if I was as alone as you?”

           “Wait, what?!” asked Amber, whipping around and turning to face her brother, “You didn’t come alone?! Who else did you bring?!” “Someone else with a… personal investment in tonight’s events,” Maverink hinted with a smirk. “Personal…?” Amber mused, “Oh my cod, did you bring someone who shouldn’t be in this kind of danger?!” “To be fair,” argued Maverink, “None of you should be in this kind of danger, either. Don’t worry, he’ll be alright.”

           “I’m going to back them up!” declared Amber, heading back down the hallway, “Hold this location until we get back!” “Who are you to give me orders, Lieutenant?” joked Maverink, “I still outrank you, you know!” “I don’t go by those ranks anymore,” quipped Amber, spraying a path of red ink in front of herself before swimming off. Maverink sighed. “I’ll just… stay here and see if I can’t get this lock open, then,” he mused.

             “Hraaah!” Marjani screamed in frustration as she fired her Splatling across the foyer’s balcony, causing the security guards up there to stop for a moment, slowed by the ink splattering around them or purposely avoiding being hit more squarely. Only one of them was splatted by her volley, but she was followed up a moment later by the roar of Caroline’s Hydra Splatling as it fired across the same area, splatting the remainder of the guards.

           “They just keep comin’!” Marjani shouted over the engine of Caroline’s Splatling. “Maybe their respawn isn’t low-power like this one!” replied Caroline, “They might have the advantage of not being unconscious when they come back!” “They already have an advantage!” protested Marjani as she revved up her Splatling, more of the guards beginning to enter the room, “There’s more of ‘em than us!” “I haven’t seen anyone twice, though!” argued Caroline, “I think they just have a lot of manpow–errgh!”

           Caroline stopped as a shot hit her in the leg, causing her to fall to her other knee. “Shit!” Marjani muttered as she fired across the balcony, missing the guards as she slowly moved toward her ally, “Caroline!” She couldn’t get over to her in time, however, as a second barrage of shots rained down from above, overwhelming and splatting her ally. “Fuck!” shouted Marjani, dodging the hail of ink as she moved over to the respawn point, placing herself between it and the stairs as she fired at the guards on the balcony to splat them.

           She turned around as Caroline reformed from the ink in the respawn point, unmoving. “Shit, shit, shit, fuck!” she muttered incoherently, turning the other Inkling’s limp body over, “Come on, come on, coddammit, wake up! Fuckin’ fuck!” Caroline’s eyes remained closed, and it was clear that she was out cold. “Fuck, fuck, shit!” Marjani hissed again, about to turn around before a sudden, sharp pain in her head caused her to fall over on her back next to her unconscious partner.

           As she shook her head, trying to recover from her momentarily foggy vision, a foot was suddenly planted on her chest forcefully, causing her to gasp for air and grab the leg of the offender. She gritted her teeth as she tried to throw the tall security guard off of her, but his weight was too much. He pointed his Splattershot in her face. “Dat’s enough, now,” he spoke forcefully as she struggled, “We’re not gonna do anythin’ to dis spawn point, see?”

           “Fuck you!” growled Marjani. “Watch your tongue dere, missy,” retorted the guard, leaning in to push his Splattershot closer, “If dere’s one thing I hate more dan havin’ to deal wit’ little pricks like you, it’s havin’ to deal wit’ da bodies. I am not in the mood to do dat tonight, so just calm right da hell down an’ I won’t deactivate dis spawn point.” Marjani continued to grip the guard’s leg. “If you think I’m just gonna–” she started.

           “–Don’t make me…” the guard interrupted her before noticing an odd sound. Marjani barely heard it over the guard’s voice and her own frustrated grunts, not caring as to what it was. The guard looked around the room, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise, before facing the front door and realizing that the noise was coming from behind it. His eyes narrowed in confusion as he cocked his head slightly, keeping his Splattershot aimed at Marjani.

           “What da–?”

           BOOOOOOOM.

           A wave of sound blew the front doors wide open, utterly obliterating the lock in the process. In the blink of an eye, it continued through to the guard’s position, and he only had a moment for his expression to change to one of realization and shock before it splatted him into a mist of orange ink that flew through the air and covered a sizable portion of the staircase, though traveling just above Marjani and Caroline and leaving the two of them unscathed, save for a bit of the guard’s orange ink that splattered across the two harmlessly.

           As the blast stopped, Marjani flopped back on the ground in relief, her arms wide open as she tried to catch her breath, her eyes as wide as her mouth, before she turned her head to see what it was that had rescued her. A Killer Wail rested just outside the doors, dying down as the room finally fell silent other than Marjani’s quiet panting. “Who…?” she tried to ask as she breathed heavily, looking over to the doors.

           A head poked around the corner of the doors, purple tentacles shining in the light of the foyer. The dark-skinned young Inkling inspected the damage done to the doors in surprise as he removed his noise-cancelling headphones. “…Did I do that?” he asked sarcastically, with a grin breaking out on his face. Seeing her brother there, Marjani scrambled back onto her feet and stumbled over to the door, leaving her Splatling on the ground where it was. “Dodge!” she shouted.

           As Dodge began to walk into the room, he was suddenly met by his sister throwing her arms around him. “What are you doin’ here?!” she cried, gripping her brother. Dodge laughed as he patted Marjani on the back to comfort her. “Savin’ you, apparently. You know, the next time you throw a party in an awesome mansion like this, you really oughta remember to hire a DJ,” he joked as she finally let go of him, “…Also, Mom and Dad are totally gonna kill us for this, you know that, right?”

           “I know, I know, I’m just glad you’re here…!” murmured Marjani, pulling her brother in again. “Sorry about the Killer Wail,” Dodge apologized, “I… don’t have anythin’ else I can use.” Marjani pulled back again, stunned at what he’d said. “Killer…” she repeated as she looked over and remembered the Killer Wail next to the two of them. “I-I…” she stammered as she tried to think of the right words, “Th-that’s okay. I was… kinda preoccupied anyway.” She turned back to her brother. “How’d you know about this?” she asked.

           “I’ll explain later,” replied Dodge, “For now, we gotta help Caroline.” Marjani turned back to the unconscious captain. “R-right,” she agreed, rushing back over to her ally’s side. “Come on, Caroline,” she muttered, lifting the other girl’s head, “Wake up, dammit!” Dodge knelt down across from Marjani, the two of them on either side of Caroline. “Think it would help if I did CPR?” he asked. “Dodge!” shouted Marjani, “Not the time!”

             Felicity took aim with her Squiffer and attempted to fire, only to realize she was low on ink again. “Moruga!” she shouted, and her counterpart responded by shifting his aim over to the guard she had been trying to splat and firing while she quickly transformed into her squid form, ducking into a puddle of her red ink to refill her ink tank.

           “Damn!” Moruga cursed under his breath as he tried to readjust his aim back to another guard, finding himself low on ink, as well. “There’s too many!” cried Felicity, taking a shot at the guard and missing, “I-I can’t keep up!” Moruga took aim at the guard, counting the seconds until his shot was fully charged as the man made his way through the courtyard unimpeded by either.

           Suddenly, the guard on the other end of Moruga’s scope exploded in a shower of green ink, causing Moruga furrow his brow in confusion – the Fontina guards were exclusively using orange as their ink color, while Spice Splat and the Outcasts had set theirs to Caroline’s signature red. Why had the guard left behind a pool of green where he’d been standing?

           Moruga pulled back from his scope and looked around, bewildered. Suddenly, he spotted his and Felicity’s deliverer on the rooftop of the mansion’s west wing, their own Hero Splat Charger pointed at the courtyard below. “Who in de…?!” Moruga’s voice trailed off as he recognized the telltale gas mask. “Oh my cod!” exclaimed Felicity with a smile, “Isn’t that… VX? That was his name, right?” “De freelancer?” asked Moruga, “Why is he here?”

           VX simply looked over to the two and waved briefly before taking a second dead-eyed shot at another guard in the courtyard with no hesitation, signaling for the two to continue their own fire. “I think he’s here to help!” replied Felicity, “But… how did he know what was going on?” “Whatever his reason, I won’t complain,” retorted Moruga, “It looks as though de security forces are slowin’. Let’s mop up de rest of dese guards and regroup wit’ de odduhs!”

             Amber led the group down the hall back to where she’d left Maverink, with the others not far behind. “You sure you’re going to be okay, Humboldt?” she asked worriedly. Caroline smirked, though she was clearly exhausted, leaning on Moruga for support. “Come on, it takes more than that to keep the Reaper down,” she insisted, “I’m nursing a wicked headache, but I’ll live.” “Thanks again for the save, Dodge,” Amber continued, “I’m grateful, but you shouldn’t have–”

           “–I don’t wanna hear it,” interjected Dodge, shaking his head with a smile, “Just because I can’t ink doesn’t make me useless. A Killer Wail’s right up my alley.” “…I was going to say you shouldn’t have come here and put yourself in danger,” replied Amber. “R-right,” Dodge stammered, putting his hands behind his head sheepishly, “But when that weird octo guy told me Marjani was in trouble, I couldn’t just stand back and not do anything.”

           “He came to you, then?” asked Amber, “What for?” “It’s a surprise,” Dodge beamed as he put his hands in his pockets, shooting a look to Felicity and raising his eyebrows knowingly, to which she simply rolled her eyes. Amber sighed as they arrived back at the doors leading to what they had concluded to be the Don’s office. “Hey,” Amber greeted Maverink as they stopped, avoiding using her brother’s name in front of the others for his sake as much as her own.

           “My thanks to yuh, whoever yuh are,” added Moruga, “Yuh ‘backup’ arrived just in de nick of time. Dodge rescued de girls and VX helped us out.” Maverink raised an eyebrow, taken aback by Moruga’s statement. “‘VX’…?” he asked, “Who’s ‘VX?’” VX responded by stepping forward and cocking his head slightly. “He’s not with me,” asserted Maverink. “Wait, he’s not?” asked Felicity, “Then why is he…?” The group’s gazes all fell on VX, who simply replied by shaking his head, shrugging, and letting out a muffled gravelly noise that vaguely resembled a chuckle.

           “Well, anyway, at least everyone’s still in one piece,” mused Maverink. “For the most part,” quipped Caroline. “Right, well, the best-laid plans of kids and squids, hm?” Maverink replied, avoiding looking over to Amber as she glanced down at her feet, “At least there were those respawn points to prevent any… major collateral damage.” Regaining her composure, Amber looked back up to him. “Any luck with that lock?” she asked.

           “Unfortunately, no,” replied Maverink, “It seems to be deadbolted from the inside.” André stepped forward, the others parting before him as he neared the doors. Maverink stepped aside with a smirk as André hefted his Roller onto his shoulder and lifted his right leg. With a temperamental grunt he threw as much of his weight behind his foot as he could and pounded it into the door, knocking it open in one swift movement with a loud crack as the bolt buckled and split the wood holding it back.

           “Cripes!” shouted a voice on the other side as the group filed in through the now-open double doors, the ten of them arriving in Don Fontina’s office opposite the man himself, standing with his hands and a surprised Butch behind his back, both of them still standing at his desk. Butch’s eyes darted through the crowd of intruders, completely flabbergasted at the turn of events. “Wha-what da hell is all dis–” he began.

           “–Butch!” snapped his uncle, “…Let me handle dis.” He took a few steps out from behind his desk to stand at its side, taking one hand from behind his back to run it through the tentacles on his head as he sighed, shaking his head as he let his arms fall to his sides. “Boy, youse little shits sure did a numbah on dis place, huh?” he mused, smirking, “How much damage did youse cause? A couple grand, I imagine? Now, don’t make any sudden moves, kids… I just turned off dose respawn points remotely.”

           Maverink glanced over to an expectant Dodge before nodding subtly. Dodge nodded back and adjusted his visor as the two looked back to Salvatore. “Now den…” the Don muttered, “To what do we owe dis… little get-togedda? I mean, surely youse little twats have a reason for trashin’ my mansion.” Marjani scoffed. “Cut the shit, Fontina!” she shouted. “Marjie, don’t,” interjected Felicity, putting her hand on Marjani’s shoulder and holding her teammate back.

           Salvatore laughed. “A little firebrand, dat one,” he acknowledged, shaking his finger at the group, “You’ve got moxie, girlie. Youse coulda worked fuh me someday.” Marjani sneered disgustedly at the thought, but held her tongue. “Fat chance…” she muttered quietly. “But now all youse kids are gonna be doin’ is some hard time,” continued Salvatore, “Once I’m through wit’ youse, of course. Youse picked da wrong man ta mess wit’.”

           Caroline, Moruga, and Jolokia each stepped forward, taking their places at André’s side in front of the rest of the group. “Two years ago, I was dismissed from my team, Spice Splat,” André explained, “An inordinate number of complaints had been filed against me for my gigantism. Two days ago, I found out from someone working for you that it was all faked by your men on your orders, just to open up a slot on a popular team for your nephew there to take.”

           Butch’s jaw dropped as André spoke. He stared at his uncle, unsure what to make of André’s accusations. Salvatore shook his head, his smile breaking out again as he began to chuckle. Soon, the empty halls of his mansion echoed with the sound of his raucous, seemingly-endless laughter. Failing to see the humor, the others simply looked back and forth between each other. Salvatore placed his hand on his chest as his laughter finally slowed to a stop.

           “Dat?!” he asked, still grinning, “Dat’s why youse felt it imperative to break into my mansion, clobbah my security force, and break down the door to my private office?!” He continued to chuckle slightly. “U-Uncle Sal…” Butch whispered. Salvatore raised his right hand to silence his nephew without so much as a look. “It’s alright, Butch,” he assured him confidently, before shaking his head and chuckling again.

           “All dis… over a fuckin’ sport?” he continued, “Youse wouldn’t happen ta actually know who it was who told you all dis crap, would youse? A name? Any proof whatsoever dat dis guy was workin’ fuh me like he claimed?” André frowned. “He called himself ‘a friend of Butch,’” he admitted, “Never said his name.” The Don pursed his lips and nodded, as if seeing that his suspicions were correct. “So youse kids took da word of someone whose name youse don’t even know…” he assessed before shaking his head, “…And decided dat was reason enough to do what you’ve done tonight?”

           “Enough!” bellowed Moruga, “De complaint submissions were all anonymous! De handwritin’ was de same set of four! An’ dey were all submitted around de same time! Yuh think dat isn’t enough for us to be suspicious when combined with yuh lackey’s story?” As the others began to speak up, Salvatore’s mouth curled into a frown, showing his age lines. “Shaddup!” shouted Salvatore. He folded his hands behind his back again.

           “Youse kids have no idea how fuckin’ petty dis whole thing is,” he replied, “Do youse have any idea who I am? I’ve done far worse den all dis… so much worse. I’ve got ties all over da city, hands in drug traffickin’, rigged casinos, loan sharkin’, prostitution; all of it is mine. Youse ask any pimp in dis fuckin’ town who he answers to, an’ he won’t tell ya, ‘cause he’s too afraid of what I’ll do to him if he does.” He slammed his hand on his desk next to himself.

           “I am da single most powerful an’ feared man in da entire criminal underworld, an’ youse stupid fuckin’ little shitheads come here and trash dis mansion because of a fuckin’ sport?” he ranted, “Oh, yeah, of course, no, I forgot dis stupid shit’s all youse little shitheads care about! Oh, boo hoo, big ol’ mean Don Fontina spread a little gossip about a fuckin’ freak of nature. Yeah, I rigged it all! So what? So long as youse ain’t got da evidence to back it up in court, you’ve got nothin’. It’s your word against my money, an’ dat ain’t a fight you’re gonna win.”

           Maverink took a few steps forward, a smirk on his face. “Actually…” he interjected, “…It’s our word and the eyewitness testimony of Inkopolis now.” Salvatore furrowed his brow. “An’ who da hell are you? Whaddya mean?” he questioned, pointing at Maverink, “…Oh, I know youse, you’re one o’ dem Octo-freaks comin’ around here an’ causin’ trouble in da city ‘cause of da war, ain’t ya?”

           Maverink shook his head, chuckling. “Well, that was a bit uncalled for, but I suppose we can’t really add ‘racist prick’ to the list of charges,” he replied before looking Salvatore in the eye once more, “…Congratulations, Don Fontina. You just broadcasted your confession to the entire city of Inkopolis.” The color drained from Salvatore’s face as his confident expression dropped. “Y-youse what?!” he asked.

           “What are you talking about?!” Amber questioned in confusion, “What’s going on?!” The others all murmured amongst themselves as Dodge stepped forward. “Allow me to fill in the blanks here,” he offered, adjusting his visor again. “Dodge, you were in on this?!” asked a bewildered Marjani, “What did you guys do?!” “Just let me explain,” Dodge reassured his sister confidently.

 Some time earlier…

             Dodge was late to leave the studio; he’d stayed behind at the top of Inkopolis Tower to help prepare everything for the following morning’s Turf War battles. Being the last one there, he’d be locking up for the night. Ever since he’d proven his professionalism with the Squid Sisters recording session months earlier, he’d been entrusted with more and more responsibilities at his job, managing video and audio feeds for Turf War matches and being given a set of keys to the studio.

           As he made his way to the exit, he slung his bag over his shoulder and pulled his set of keys out of his pocket. He turned off each set of lights one-by-one until the studio was dark before reaching for the door handle and turning it. As he opened the door, he was met by a figure standing on the other side of the door, shadowed from the front by the darkness in the studio. “Wah!” Dodge yelped as he stepped back.

           “Turn on some lights in here, it’s pitch black,” the figure grumbled dryly. “Wh-who the heck are you?! Don’t scare me like that!” shouted Dodge. The man reached into the room and flicked one of the light switches back on, illuminating his face. Dodge could now clearly see the man’s features, including his short, ruddy tentacles and the attention-grabbing purple marks around his striking green eyes.

           “A-an Octoling?!” Dodge stammered. “That’s not going to be a problem, is it?” asked the man, finally making eye contact with Dodge. “N-no, I-I just don’t know any Octolings, is all,” replied Dodge hesitantly, “Who are you? Wh-what’s goin’ on?” The young man folded his arms as he stepped into the studio and closed the door behind him. “Let’s make this quick,” he stated plainly, “I need access to the broadcasting system.”

           “The broadcasting system?!” Dodge asked, his jaw dropping, “No, no, no, no, no way, I can’t do that. My boss will kill me. Seriously, he will, the dude’s a shark.” The man shook his head. “I don’t have time to argue this with you,” he reiterated, “The Outcasts are in danger, and I need to hijack the broadcasting system if I’m to have any hope of helping them get out of this one.” “W-wait, the Outcasts?!” Dodge asked, “What do you mean, they’re in danger?!”

           The man took a few more steps into the room and sat himself down in the chair Dodge had been using until a few minutes earlier, turning it to face the console once more. “H-hey, you can’t mess with that!” protested Dodge, “Slow down, what do you mean the Outcasts are in danger?!” “Your sister, the foul-mouthed one with the Splatling, right?” asked the man. “Yeah, Marjani,” replied Dodge, “What’s goin’ on?”

           “The Outcasts and their peppery friends are en route to take on the Fontina mafia family tonight,” explained the man, “And they have no means of actually taking them down and coming out on top. I want to use this system to goad Don Salvatore Fontina into telling the whole city about his crimes. If nothing else, it should hopefully take the heat off your sister and her friends.” “The Fontinas?!” asked Dodge, “Who are you, anyway?”

           “Would you stop questioning everything and just help me with this?” retorted the man impatiently, turning the system back on and pressing a few of the buttons, “I can just hack it if you don’t, but it’ll be easier and faster if you help me get this hooked up to an inconspicuous camera of some kind so I can go help them!” “Hacking the broadcasting system?! That’s totally illegal!” argued Dodge. “Technically, the reason I’m in the city at all is illegal,” replied the man, continuing to fiddle with knobs and buttons.

           Dodge sighed, crossing his arms. “You’re really not gonna tell me who you are?” he conceded. “Nope,” replied the man. “…You know, the vague hints only make me more curious,” insisted Dodge. “Yep,” the man agreed, though remaining tight-lipped. “…What about after this is all over?” asked Dodge. The man glanced over to him before returning to his work. “…No promises,” he acquiesced. “Alright, look, I’ll help you with this,” replied Dodge, stepping forward, “On one condition.”

           “If it’s to tell you who I am–” the man started. “–No, not that,” interjected Dodge, “I’m coming with you to help.” The man shook his head. “It’ll be dangerous,” he refuted Dodge’s assertation, “I don’t think you’re up to the task. You’re, what, a DJ?” “If my sister’s in trouble, I’m up for anythin’!” insisted Dodge. The man sighed in resignation. “Alright, what Turf War weapons do you have?” he asked. “I-I… uh…” Dodge cringed sheepishly, “I… can’t play Turf War.”

           “You can’t play Turf War and you want to help?” the man questioned as he turned to Dodge with an incredulous look on his face, “What, pray tell, do you plan on doing, then?” Dodge looked at his feet, wracking his brain as the man looked back to the console as he continued to try and prepare it. “Wait!” Dodge suddenly spoke up again, leaning on the desk next to the console, “I do have one thing I can use…”

 Don Fontina’s office…

             Salvatore stared at the group, dumbfounded, as the veins on his head began to bulge. “I attached the camera to my visor where it would be inconspicuous, and we headed on over,” Dodge explained with a smirk, “We only took so long to help out because we had to get it hooked up to your mansion’s Wi-fi. Thanks for the three bars, by the way.” Salvatore gritted his teeth. “You’re bluffin’,” he challenged the two on their story.

           “Well, the police should already be on their way here,” replied Maverink nonchalantly, “Then you’ll see we’re telling the truth.” Salvatore began to growl angrily, as if speechless. The group’s reactions were varied – Felicity, Marjani, and Dodge all exchanged glances, while Amber and the others simply stared at Salvatore. “I’ll kill youse!” he finally exploded, “Where’s my coddamn Splattahshot?! I’ll kill all o’ youse before da cops even get here! I’ll even pay da fuckers off ta get ridda your bodies for me! You hear me?! I own dis city!”

           Salvatore turned to his right, reaching around his desk and grabbing a drawer before yanking it open. He stuffed his hand inside before taking a second look to realize that his Splattershot wasn’t in the desk. He leaned over the drawer, trying to find his weapon. “Where da fuck is it?!” he screamed. He suddenly caught a glimpse of something out of the corner of his eye and looked up to see Butch aiming the Splattershot at his face.

           “So, Uncle Sal…” Butch murmured, clearly pained, “When were youse gonna tell me dat I didn’t make da team ‘cause of my own skills?” Salvatore stood back up, sneering at his nephew. “Butch…” he hissed, seething with rage, “Put down my Splattahshot.” Butch took a step forward, holding the Splattershot at arm’s length. “All I wanted was somethin’ I could do myself!” he shouted, “Somethin’ dat would make you proudda me, like all dose years ya’ve put inta raisin’ me were worth it to ya!”

           “Butch!” with his nephew not listening, Salvatore attempted to shout him down. “Oh, but nooo, fuggedaboutit, Don Fontina’s gotta flex his muscles and be all influential-like!” Butch continued his tirade, “What else did ya do, eh? Threaten anyone else who tried out fuh da team? Bribe da boss? How much do I really owe ta your stupid little power trip, Uncle Sal?” The rest of the group was silent, not daring to step in without a clear picture of whose side Butch was really on.

           “Do you have ANY idea what I’ve thrown away and sacrificed fer your sorry little ass?! I’ve gotten my hands dirty all over dis city, all of it, fuh you!” shouted Salvatore, “Ya remember dat time I came home wit’ ink on my favorite white suit, Butch? Dat wasn’t some stupid neighborhood kids playin’ Turf War like I said, dat was some poor schlemiel’s brains dat I had ta blow out when he couldn’t pay up!”

           He threw his arms wide open, red-faced and the sweat beading on his head. “All o’ dis, dis whole mansion, my whole legacy, was s’posed ta be yours! You were s’posed ta get it all when I kick da bucket, and live a happy, comfortable life, doin’ whatever da fuck you wanted!” he continued, “But your stupid little friends had ta come in here and tear da coddamn place up, and why?! Because I got youse on a high-profile team, like you deserve!”

           “Ya fuckin’ screwed André outta somethin’ he earned! Somethin’ I thought I earned after he was gone!” continued Butch, taking another step forward to get in his uncle’s face and now pressing the barrel of the Splattershot into his uncle’s chest, “I thought I was good enough ta live up ta what he left behind, and now I find out dat none of it’s true ‘cause of you, and I’m not even half da man he is!”

           “Ain’t dat da fuckin’ truth,” Salvatore muttered, shaking his head in disappointment at his nephew, “Go on, den, ya gonna fuckin’ shoot me or what? Like I said, dose fuckin’ respawn points ain’t gonna save nobody now. Come on, I bet you ain’t got da guts, Butch! I bet I could strangle ya right here in fronna all your stupid little friends and none o’ ya little fuckwits wouldn’t do shit about it!” Butch fell silent as his uncle derided him and the others, the Splattershot dropping to his side with his arm.

           “So ya wanna find out, do ya, ya little fuck?!” shouted Salvatore, “Never shoulda taken your sorry ass in after your whore mother died! I always told Germano he was a fuckin’ idiot fer marryin’ ‘er!” Salvatore raised his hands, veins visibly bulging on the backs of his knuckles as he moved them toward Butch’s neck. Butch’s eyes widened simultaneously as those of everyone else in the room as everyone began taking a step forward to stop Don Fontina and pull him off of Butch.

           They all stopped as the sound of the Splattershot going off rang out in the silence. After a moment, Don Fontina fell to the ground, howling in pain and clutching his left leg, which was bleeding out a mix of his own blue blood and the orange ink Butch had fired from the Splattershot. His nephew simply stood where he was, stunned and still staring straight forward in silence for a moment. “Don’t talk about my father like dat,” Butch finally murmured.

           “My leg! My fuckin’ leg!” shouted Salvatore, “You coddamn fuckin’ ungrateful little shit! C’mere, I’ll fuckin’ kill ya fer dis!” The disgraced Don attempted to latch onto his nephew’s leg, only to be incapacitated by his pain, his face contorting in agony. Other than his unintelligible shouting, the rest of those present in the room were silent as time seemed to slow to a stop. Before they knew it, adult Inklings in blue uniforms were flooding into the office, drawing their weapons and shouting for everyone present to drop theirs.

 Later…

             The eight cephalopods stood nervously outside the mansion next to a police car, each speechless at the turn of events that had occurred in Salvatore’s office. Even Dodge was silent despite having known about his and Maverink’s plan to take down the Don beforehand. Their weapons confiscated by the entirety of the police force that had arrived on the scene, they all looked back and forth between each other, all of them unsure of what to say.

           Finally, Marjani spoke up as she surveyed the group. “Hey, where’d, uh… that Octoling guy go?” she asked, avoiding using any terminology that would suggest familiarity in front of her brother or Spice Splat. “An’ VX?” asked Moruga, “Did he vanish before de police arrived, as well?” “Looks that way,” commented Caroline, “I guess whatever reason those two had for helping us out, they didn’t want us to know. Shame; I wanted to thank them.”

           “You say that like they were together,” interjected Dodge, “But I’ve never seen VX in person before we all met up.” “Well, whatever,” replied Marjani, “I don’t really like him anyway. Dude creeps me the fuck out.” “Language, Marjie,” whispered Felicity, eliciting laughter from Caroline, Jolokia, and even Moruga. “Even at a time like this?” asked Caroline. “Someone’s gotta keep Marjani in line,” joked Amber.

           “Hey, I keep myself in line!” protested Marjani. “Sure,” agreed André, “You just draw the line in a different spot.” Marjani huffed as the group laughed again, finally feeling some relief as the reality of their unexpected victory sank in, regardless of what was to come next. Somehow, despite the odds, they had conquered the entire Fontina “security force” – though they were all more than likely self-trained goons rather than professionals – and actually brought Salvatore Fontina to his knees in front of the city.

           As their laughter died down, they were approached by a pair of police officers, the younger of the two a well-built man with dark blue tentacles hidden beneath his cap and the older a moustached veteran with graying tentacles. Felicity fought the urge to hide her face behind her tentacles as she recognized them as the two officers who’d come to her aid the night of the incident with her father a few months earlier.

           “Alright, everyone, there’s no easy way to do this,” started the younger officer, “I’m going to need names from all of you kids, and–” “–That’s enough, son,” interrupted the older of the two with an exhausted tone in his gravelly, aged voice, putting his hands on his belt and shaking his head. “Sir?” questioned the younger officer, looking over to his superior.

           “We’ve got bigger fish to fry,” continued the older officer, “There’s gonna be a lotta upheaval with this Fontina business. These kids got caught in the middle of something bigger than themselves, and they didn’t even realize it.” “With all due respect, Chief, we’ve got these kids on trespassing on private property, at least a few grand in property damage, assault against the security force–” the younger officer attempted to stand his ground.

           “–Son, just don’t,” the older officer interrupted again, “You wanna go through all the extra paperwork yourself, be my guest. But Sal Fontina walked free after his brother died, despite having instigated that incident, and I’ve been trying to nail his ass for eighteen years ever since. Far as I’m concerned, these kids just took down an entire crime syndicate, and on accident to boot. They’ve had a long night; let’s just make it easier on everyone and let ‘em off with a warning.”

           The younger officer sighed. “Really, sir?” he asked. The older officer crossed his arms. “Really,” he maintained, “They had their reasons, and I don’t blame ‘em.” The younger officer turned to the group, sighing a second time. “You’re all free to go,” he conceded, “Your Turf War weapons are all being held by the officers over at the armored car. Go home and get some rest, kids.” The group all looked back and forth between each other, flabbergasted that they weren’t being arrested.

           “What’s going to happen to Butch?” asked Felicity. “Basil’s going to have to stick with us for a little while. He shot his uncle in the leg, after all, but we know that it was only in self-defense,” revealed the younger officer as the older one furrowed his brow looking at Felicity, “What we’re interested in is finding out how much he knew about his uncle’s criminal empire, and if he participated in anything illegal.” The older officer snapped his fingers, as if realizing something.

           “Ms. Quinn!” he barked, causing Felicity to yelp and blush. The officer chuckled quietly at her reaction. “You certainly have a knack for getting yourself in trouble, huh, little missy?” he joked, “How’s your mother doing? She alright?” Felicity exhaled in relief at the officer’s casual reaction to recognizing her. “Once she f-finds out about tonight…” she stuttered, “…I don’t know how she’s going to react.” The officer nodded in understanding.

           “Thank you, officers,” Caroline finally spoke up as the group began to collectively turn to leave, “We’ll stay out of trouble from here on out.” Jolokia nodded. “We can’t thank you enough for cleaning up after this mess we’ve made,” she added. “Come on, everyone, let’s get going,” Amber beckoned to the others, “Most of us… probably have some explaining to do when we get home.” “We’ll most likely have to contend wit’ de League now,” replied Moruga.

           “Well, whatever comes next, we face it together this time,” asserted André. He held his hand out to Jolokia, who was walking next to him on his left. She smiled as she put her hand in his, her slender form engulfed in his giant fingers. Felicity giggled at the two before putting her arm around Marjani, who was walking next to her. “No matter what twists life throws at us, right?” she asked. “Yeah,” admitted Marjani, rolling her eyes, though smiling and reciprocating her teammate’s gesture, “I still need you losers, after all.”

           Dodge sidled up next to Amber with a grin on his face, feeling bold at having seen the displays of affection her teammates were making. “So, Amber…” he started, adjusting his visor, “Seems like you guys owe me one. How about you make it up to me with a–” “–Don’t even start, Dodge!” Marjani interrupted, “Don’t make me come over there!” Amber laughed. “Marjani’s right, Dodge,” she added, “I don’t think that Octoling guy would approve of you hijacking how you helped us out as an excuse to flirt.”

           “Eh, what does he care?” protested Dodge, “Dude never even told me his name, he won’t find out.” “You don’t know that,” disputed Amber, “After all, how did he know you were Marjani’s brother, anyway? He might have eyes and ears everywhere, for all you know.” Dodge gulped nervously at this thought and glanced around, as if trying to spot the Octoling somewhere in the vicinity, watching his every move.

           As the group arrived at the armored car where their weapons were being held, the officers standing nearby stepped aside to let the group take their respective armaments. Marjani and Caroline lifted their Splatlings up off the ground, while André hefted his Roller up onto his shoulder with his free hand. Amber inspected her Octoshot for any damage before letting her arm dangle at her side, the adrenaline of the night finally wearing off.

           “You guys all ready to go?” asked Caroline. Her teammates nodded silently, satisfied that their weapons were all intact. The group of eight set off once more, leaving the scene of the mansion behind them, the police lights flashing more and more distantly as they made their way back up the sidewalk leading away from the night’s events. As they walked, Amber turned to Caroline. “Listen, Caroline,” she addressed her senior quietly. “Hm?” Caroline looked over to the younger captain.

           “Tonight, we came together for each other,” continued Amber, “I’m grateful to all of you guys for having each other’s backs back there, really. But I just want you to know that… this doesn’t change anything. If we’re all still allowed to keep playing Turf War together, chances are we’ll see each other on the battlefield again. And if that happens, you’d better not start slacking off, Humboldt.” She smiled, eliciting a knowing grin from the red-tentacled girl.

           “Because next time, you’re gonna lose to the Outcasts!”

 SPLATOON: THE OUTCASTS

Two years ago…

             Caroline, young captain of the renowned Team Spice Splat, panted heavily as she sprinted along the lower left side of Urchin Underpass, her Mini Splatling in hand. She adjusted the goggles on her face before looking around: Off to her right, her trusted right-hand man Moruga, identifiable at a distance by his signature Special Forces Beret and Squidstar Waistcoat, was aiming his Kelp Splat Charger at the opposing team’s sniper, an orange-tentacled girl with a standard Splat Charger of her own, the two trading and dodging each other’s shots. Their teammate, Jolokia, was nowhere to be seen, as usual, living up to her reputation as an untraceable “ghost” on the battlefield.

           Only about a minute had passed in the match, and Caroline was off to a rocky start; she was just recovering from having already been splatted once. Spice Splat had been having a hard time finding their footing against their opponents – Caroline couldn’t even remember the last time they’d gone up against Vitamin INK. As she descended a ramp into the center area of the battlefield, she heard a loud voice call out. “And where do you think you’re going?!” it shouted at her.

           Caroline made a sharp left to duck behind a corner and up against a high wall as a barrage of ink rained down from a higher ledge and through the spot where she’d just been standing. “Quick movesh, pimenta!” added the voice as its bearer, a taller boy Inkling with dark skin, a pair of Tinted Shades, and a button-down White Shirt came from around the corner, his Heavy Splatling already roaring and ready to fire again at a moment’s notice. “To be fair, you kinda telegraphed it,” retorted Caroline, “Not really one for stealth, are you?”

           “It’sh been a while, Ceifeira,” her opponent grinned, “What happened to your Hydra Shplatling? That Mini looksh more like a children’sh toy than a weapon.” “Hi to you, too, Jonquil,” replied Caroline, rolling her eyes with her own grin plastered on her face, “Don’t you know it’s rude to greet a lady like that?” “My mishtake, pimenta,” Jonquil apologized, mock-bowing slightly to his opponent, though cautiously keeping his eyes on her, “But how’sh that shaying go? All’sh fair in love and Turf War?”

           “I don’t think that’s what they mean by that,” continued Caroline, “As for the Splatling, I’m trying something new. Hope you don’t mind.” “Not at all!” exclaimed Jonquil, taking a step forward as he took aim with his own Splatling, “Not if it makesh it eashier for ush to win thish match!” “I wouldn’t count on that, Don Juan,” Caroline smirked as a shadow suddenly loomed over her head, its source leaping off of the higher side pathway that ended at the top of the wall Caroline was backed up against. She didn’t even flinch as a massive Inkling crashed down into the ink before her, splatting Jonquil under the weight of his Krak-On Splat Roller before he could react.

           The huge squid before Caroline slung his weapon up onto his shoulder and took a deep breath before letting out a deep, guttural roar that transitioned into hearty laughter. “Alright, big guy, take it down a notch,” Caroline prompted him, stepping forward next to the Inkling who’d come to her rescue. “Sorry, Captain,” replied the larger Inkling as he turned to her, revealing his soft, golden-yellow eyes beneath the brim of his Takoroka Mesh cap, which was adorned with a sewn-on patch of Spice Splat’s iconic pepper-shaped logo: André Dorado, the team’s resident giant and Roller expert.

           “Just got a little fired up,” he continued as the two began to move forward, André flicking ink off of his Roller to cover up the opposing team’s color while taking care not to accidentally hit Caroline with it, “Felt good, you know?” “To splat him or to rescue me?” asked Caroline, “I’m flattered if it’s the latter, but you know I can take care of myself.” “Oh, don’t I know it,” joked André, “Personally, I just liked the one-liner more than anything. You knew I was up there?”

           “Of course I did,” assured Caroline, “Now come on, there’s not a whole lot of time left. Moruga might need your help with Clem over there. Where’s Jolokia?” “Their new guy with the goggles just got her before I could stop him,” replied André, “Watch out for him, that Custom Jr.’s got–” “–Disruptors and an Echolocator,” interrupted Caroline, “Yeah. I was worried Angelo would give us trouble with a record like his, but he’s even faster on the draw than I thought if he tracked down Jolokia this quick.”

           “At least I got the jump on him afterward,” added André, “He was too preoccupied with keeping Jolokia from disappearing the way she does that he didn’t watch his own back.” “Yeah?” asked Caroline, “That new shirt must be doing wonders. You used to kick up a wake like a jet ski.” “Remind me later to thank her for this again,” André replied as he tugged at the shirt briefly, “Finally feels like I’m not…” Caroline’s grin softened slightly as André’s voice trailed off, his face falling the same way.

           “…Go after their sniper, you said?” he quickly changed the subject. “You’ve got Ninja Squid now, you might have a better chance than me,” replied Caroline, “I’m going to try and find Citrón, if you don’t mind. I’ve got some… issues to work out with him…” “Try to leave him in one piece, Captain,” André chuckled before diving back into the team’s signature red ink and making his way in the direction of Moruga’s adversary.

             Moruga exited the convenience store’s front entrance, silently praising the inventor of automatic doors as he held his own coffee in one hand and the grape soda he’d picked up for André in the other. The others were waiting for him nearby; as André noticed his teammate’s return, he held out his hand, signaling for Moruga to toss the soda over to him, which he did with a subtle upward curl to the corners of his mouth.

           André caught the drink and opened it, chugging down a few massive gulps of it before Moruga had even fully rejoined his teammates. “What, nothing for me?” asked Caroline with a mischievous grin. “Yuh didn’t ask ‘fore I went in,” protested Moruga, “I’m no mind-readuh.” Caroline folded her arms, but couldn’t contain her beaming. “Oh, come on, girls just love surprise gifts,” she insisted. André raised an eyebrow and glanced down to Jolokia, who reciprocated the look before they both rolled their eyes almost simultaneously.

           “Den yuh’ll just have to be surprised next time,” Moruga replied flatly, finally deflating Caroline’s playful joke. “You’re no fun, crabcakes,” Caroline frowned. André and Jolokia quietly chuckled as the group turned to leave, continuing on their route back to Caroline’s apartment, where they planned to hang out and hold a post-match meeting, a practice that had started incidentally but become routine for the popular team.

           André continued guzzling down his soda as the group walked along together, his trusty Roller hanging from his shoulder in its carrying bag. His eyes glanced about the sidewalk, lazily examining the various other Inklings who were loitering about as they made their way along the street. Was it just him, or were an inordinate number of them watching him until he spotted them, only to turn the other way upon making eye contact?

           As the group passed by a pair of Inklings, a boy and a girl, he could overhear their hushed conversation. “I heard they’re getting a lotta flak lately,” murmured the boy. André slowed his walk slightly, perking up his ears and listening to what the two had to say. “What for? Those guys are awesome,” mumbled the girl. “Shh,” replied the boy, hushing his friend and glancing over his shoulder in André’s direction as quickly and inconspicuously as he could.

           “It’s the big guy,” he whispered, thinking André was far enough past them that he had gotten out of earshot, “The Kraken. A lotta people think it’s not fair that someone his size is allowed to play in the junior leagues.” André slowed to a stop as he realized the two were talking about him, fighting the urge to turn around. “Really?” asked the girl, not noticing André had stopped, “That seems kinda… stupid.”

           “Not everyone feels that way, I guess,” murmured the boy, “I heard that there’ve been a lotta official complaints from teams they’ve beaten, saying that the team’s basically cheating by having him.” André began to look over his shoulder, beginning to turn around, when he felt a hand on his arm and stopped. He breathed in sharply as he shifted his gaze back forward to the hand’s owner – Jolokia. “Don’t,” she pleaded softly as André looked further up the sidewalk, seeing that Caroline and Moruga had stopped a short distance ahead of the two and were now looking back to them, as if they knew exactly what was going through their teammate’s head.

           “It’s not cheating,” Caroline asserted as she looked André in the eye, though a little loudly as if to let the other Inkling know that his callous gossiping had been overheard. She walked back toward André and crossed her arms firmly. “It’s a hundred percent pure skill,” she continued reassuring him, though a little more quietly than before, “And we’re going to prove it to them; don’t let it get to you. Come on.” André inhaled deeply through his nostrils to steady himself as Jolokia and the others turned back around, before taking another drink of his soda and following after them.

             André sprawled himself out across Caroline’s two-seater couch as he fell back onto it, his trunk-like arms spanning nearly the entire back. He exhaled loudly, as if decompressing his entire being, as Jolokia sat down next to him gingerly, her balanced, demure mannerisms standing in stark contrast to his weighty movements. Caroline placed her Mini Splatling’s bag on the floor along the wall, just adjacent to where André, Jolokia, and Moruga had also set their respective weapons down by the door.

           “I’m gonna go pick up my mail before we get started,” she stated, adjusting her Squid Nordic hat slightly, “You wanna tag along, crabcakes?” Moruga uncrossed his arms and smirked, wordlessly making his way to Caroline’s side. “You two play nice, now,” Caroline added, winking at André as she opened the door to her apartment again, “We won’t be gone long.” André scoffed as Jolokia began to turn a bright shade of red. “Sure thing, Mom,” he joked, giving the captain a facetious thumbs-up.

           Caroline held the door open for Moruga to walk past her before closing it behind themselves. André relaxed and breathed out deeply again as his teammate shifted uncomfortably. “You okay?” asked André, noticing her nervousness, “Am… am I taking up too much space?” “N-no,” stammered Jolokia, “It’s alright. I’m just… Still a little shaken up from the match.” André nodded as he dropped his arms from the back of the couch.

           “Ah… yeah,” he murmured pensively before perking up again, “Oh, that reminds me.” Jolokia turned to face her teammate inquisitively. André tugged at the front of his White Anchor tee. “Thanks again for the shirt,” he smiled, “Still can’t believe they made one custom-sized.” “It was nothing, really,” Jolokia replied, finally loosening up and smiling back, “I just called in an old favor, that’s all.” “Well, it was great in the match,” insisted André, “I’ve never felt so… small.”

           “I noticed,” Jolokia agreed, finally smiling back, “You kept them on their toes. I don’t think any of them expected you to be able to hide like that.” “We both did. I learned from you, after all. We… uh…” insisted André, “…We make a good team.” Jolokia nodded. “I agree,” she concurred, “The four of us are–” “–I-I meant…” André stuttered as he interrupted her before lowering his volume slightly, “Wh-what I mean is… you and I… the two of us…” Jolokia looked away from André sheepishly, her blushing intensifying as his voice trailed off.

           After a few quiet, awkward moments, she composed herself enough to talk again and looked her teammate in the eye once more. “Th-this is… nice,” she mumbled, “W-we don’t get a lot of chances to talk like this… n-not without Caroline and Moruga around… J-just you and me.” André nodded, now avoiding eye contact with his teammate as he could feel his ears begin to burn in embarrassment. “M-maybe we oughta do it more often…” he muttered, before adding, “…This, I mean.”

           Jolokia was slightly taken aback by this comment, and remained quiet in her momentary daze. “I-I…” she sputtered. “W-we could maybe… get together outside of team-related stuff,” muttered André, stumbling over his words, “Th-the two of us.” Jolokia couldn’t tell just from looking at him, but her teammate’s heart was pounding just as quickly as her own. “Wh-what do you… what would you suggest?” she asked hesitantly.

           “N-nothing big or anything…” replied André, “Not so… not so suddenly. Just… something casual, I don’t know… what about…” André fell silent as he tried to think of something. Jolokia cleared her throat before finally speaking up again. “…Coffee?” she asked, her voice squeaking slightly out of anxiety, “Would that be… casual enough?” André smiled weakly and nodded, regaining his composure. “Coffee… yeah,” he murmured, “Yeah, let’s… let’s do that. My treat.”

           Jolokia giggled quietly. “You don’t have to do that,” she replied. “I… no, I want to,” insisted André, “After all, I still owe you for the shirt.” Jolokia nodded and smiled sweetly. “Alright,” she said, “Coffee it is, then. When are you–?” Jolokia was suddenly interrupted by the door reopening and Moruga re-entering the room ahead of Caroline, a grim look on his face. André and Jolokia suddenly sank back into the couch again, simultaneously realizing how close they’d gotten to each other during the conversation.

           “Looks like we’re goin’ to be havin’ dat meetin’ early,” Moruga declared.

             André could feel the sweat beading on his forehead as he, Moruga, and Jolokia sat around the circular table in Caroline’s kitchen, their captain still on her feet to turn on the light over the table. As the faces of his teammates were illuminated from above, he studied each of their expressions. Moruga was resting his elbows on the table, with his hands folded such that they obscured the lower part of his face, an intense look in his eyes as he stared into nothingness, clearly lost in his thoughts; Jolokia had a troubled look as she glanced between the others, as if she was struggling to maintain her poise; and Caroline’s signature grin had vanished, leaving her looking stoic, though with a hidden ferocity behind her eyes.

           Caroline sat down across from André, with Moruga on her right and Jolokia to her left. “Let’s not mince words now,” Moruga asserted, “We all know what dis is about.” In the center of the table, Caroline reluctantly placed an envelope that she had been carrying since her and Moruga’s return. The logo of the Turf War League was stamped on the upper-right corner, and it had clearly already been opened. “This is from the League,” started Caroline, “It’s about the complaints that have been filed against us about André’s size. A lot of them are saying that it’s like having a natural form of Defense Up and makes him harder to splat. I call bull.”

           “Regardless, dey’ve grown more numerous dis past week,” added Moruga, “An’ it’s only taken about three weeks for it to get to dis point. Dis is unprecedented.” Jolokia cleared her throat for a moment before speaking up. “Do… do we know who’s been filing them?” she asked hesitantly. Caroline shook her head. “We’re not allowed to,” she explained, “Not officially. The League doesn’t want people retaliating against anyone for things like this.”

           “But it’s only been three weeks!” protested Jolokia, “Something isn’t right here. It doesn’t make any sense that everyone would come forward all at once, not without some sort of collaboration between them that we don’t know about.” Moruga unfolded his hands and laid his arms across each other in front of himself. “I agree, but dere’s nothing we can do about dat,” he retorted, “An’ wit’ it bein’ dat way, de League has taken notice.”

           Caroline nodded as she leaned in and rested one of her elbows on the table. “Moruga’s right,” she conceded reluctantly, “A few isolated incidents here and there wouldn’t have gotten their attention, but this has gotten out of control fast. This is an official notice from them. If we don’t do something to address the complaints, they’re going to take action against us. I don’t know what they mean by ‘action;’ it’s probably decided on a case-by-case basis.”

           André rested his clenched fist on the table with a quiet thud in response. “What do they want us to do?” he asked through gritted teeth, “What do they think we can do? Magically shrink me down to the size of a normal Inkling? If I could do that, I’d have done it years ago!” “André…” Jolokia reached over to put her hand on her teammate’s arm, eliciting a rumbling, discontented sigh from him.

           “Given de circumstances, I think dey don’t expect us to be able to do anythin’,” replied Moruga. Caroline nodded again, breathing slowly and closing her eyes to try and relieve her stress. “The most likely outcome is that they’ll resort to the extreme, the only method they’ve got that can solve a problem like this,” she explained. André’s expression fell, the resentment in his eyes quickly turning to despair. “You mean…” he began to say quietly, too despondent to finish his sentence.

           “A flat-out ban from Turf War,” confirmed Caroline. “They can’t do that!” protested Jolokia, “He hasn’t done anything wrong! It’s not his fault!” “Dat won’t change what people are sayin’, Jolokia,” insisted Moruga, “If dey think it’s unfair for André to play, it doesn’t matter if it’s true, de League has to do somethin’ about it. Even whoever had to write dis blasted letter would probably agree wit’ yuh.”

           Jolokia’s expression began to match André’s crestfallen look as she realized that Moruga was right. The teammates fell silent, their expressions once again echoing the apprehension they’d each displayed in their own way before the conversation had started. Caroline finally closed her eyes and sighed again. “There is one way we might be able to make it out of this without having to let the League get involved,” she revealed.

           The others each turned to her, listening intently. “There’s a chance you’d still be able to play the sport, André,” she continued, before reopening her eyes and looking into his, “But… none of us are going to like it.” André leaned forward. “Where are you going with this, Captain?” he asked suspiciously, having an idea of what she was hinting at. “Let’s face facts: More than likely, no one really cares about your size,” explained Caroline, “We’re good, and complaining about something that might seem unfair is the perfect excuse for them to mess with us and our record.”

           André leaned back into his chair again in realization. “They’re not really targeting me,” he said, “It’s the entire team they’re after. They want to mess with what we’ve got.” Moruga nodded, folding his hands again, though keeping them on the table. “Precisely. People make money from dis sport – more if dey win; sabotaging a high-rankin’ team like us could be seen as a way of tippin’ de scales in their favor,” he continued, “An’ yuh’re de easiest scapegoat for dem.” Caroline breathed deeply as she contemplated how to word her next thought carefully.

           “Which means… what we have to do is show the world that you’re not our unstoppable secret to success,” she continued, “For that… We have to keep being good… without you.” Jolokia gasped and looked back and forth between André and Caroline, both of them clearly in distress over Caroline’s last statement. “No!” she finally argued, “We can’t just–!” “–That’s one option,” continued Caroline, “But if we don’t, we’ll most likely have to take on the League, and who knows what will happen if it comes to that?”

           The group fell silent again, each staring downward as they contemplated what was happening to them right before their eyes. André gritted his teeth and took a deep breath, looking back up as if he was about to speak up before he was suddenly cut off by Moruga. “Let’s put it to a vote,” he grumbled, “We’ll all vote, either for André to stay on de team, or against it.” “There are four of us, though,” protested Jolokia, “What about a tie?”

           “If it ties, we’ll treat it as a victory,” replied Caroline, “And come hell or high tide, we’ll fight the League together.” André sighed again as he looked back down. Caroline stood up and walked over to a countertop next to her fridge, pulling open a drawer underneath it and reaching in. “I think I’ve got some index cards in here…” she muttered, pulling out a stack of blank 3" x 5" cards and a few pens, counting out four of each.

           “Moruga, could we use your beret for–” she began as she turned back around, the cards and pens in hand. “–I’d rather not, if possible,” interrupted Moruga. “Right, sorry,” replied Caroline, sitting back down. She clicked the end on one of the pens and began to write on each of the cards. “I’m gonna put down two checkboxes on each card with ‘For’ and ‘Against’ next to them. Just so we’re clear, ‘For’ is for us to stick together; ‘Against’… isn’t,” she explained, “But no matter how this turns out… we shouldn’t know who votes which way.”

           “A sound idea,” agreed Moruga. As Caroline finished, she passed out the cards. “André, your Takoroka…?” she requested, since Moruga had refused to allow his beret to be used. André nodded and removed his hat, placing it down on the table’s center on top of the letter from the League. Each of the four looked down to their cards pensively, pens in hand.

           Moruga was the first to fold his card in half and place it into the hat with his decision made. He tried to avoid watching the others so as not to make them self-conscious. The second was Jolokia, who confidently placed her card, likewise folded, into André’s hat with Moruga’s. Caroline was third, almost hesitantly placing her decision in with the others. Finally, André folded his card pointedly and placed it in with a quiet rumble, clearly agitated that it had come to this, and knowing that his fate rested squarely on this vote.

           With all four votes in the hat, Caroline picked it up by the brim and placed her hand over it, jostling it lightly to try and mix up the votes enough that no one would know which card was whose. She then quietly extended the hat over to Moruga, who silently reached in to take out the first of the four cards. He unfolded it and read the vote. “Against,” he stated sternly before setting the card to the side, causing Jolokia’s expression to fall; it seemed as though she had been hoping no one would vote that way.

           “For,” Moruga continued as he read off the second of the four cards, before reaching in to take out the third, “…Against.” With an unsettled look plaguing her soft features, Jolokia glanced over to André, who appeared to sense her distress but simply continued watching Moruga as their teammate took out the fourth of the votes. He unfolded it, knowing that it came down to this – the vote would have to tie now for André to stay. Moruga closed his eyes and sighed one last time in resignation as he processed the result of the vote.

           “…Against.”

           Jolokia looked to André, blinking in a dumbfounded stupor as he exhaled quietly and avoided meeting her gaze. He reached over to take his Takoroka Mesh back from Caroline and stood slowly, turning away from the eyes of his teammates and simply heading for the front door. Jolokia started to stand up, as if to follow after him, only for Caroline to reach over and put her hand on her teammate’s shoulder, stopping her. André picked up his Roller’s bag, slinging it over his shoulder while leaving his hat dangling from the fingers on his other hand.

           As André opened the door, he stopped as he heard a voice behind him. “André,” Caroline spoke up, causing her now-former teammate to stop silently in front of the door, without turning to look at her. “I just want to say…” Caroline’s voice trailed off momentarily, as if she was looking for the right words, “…Good luck out there.” André hung his head slightly and paused, almost as if he was going to turn around and acknowledge her, but decided against it and continued out the door.

 The present day…

             André exhaled loudly as he concluded telling his story to his teammates. Amber simply shook her head as she and Felicity tried to think of what to say. “Rough, man,” Marjani finally spoke up, crossing her arms, “But we knew about the vote, you know. We already knew all this. Back when we first met Spice Splat, they said they all voted you off the team.”

           André shook his head before looking to Marjani. “No, they said I lost a three-to-one vote,” he corrected her, “Never said they outvoted me.” Marjani scratched her head for a moment in confusion. “Uh…” she murmured, “Isn’t that just the same thing?” “Not quite,” Amber interjected, shaking her head, “He lost the vote, but we can’t assume we know how everyone voted based just on that.” A look of understanding came over Marjani’s face as she turned to Amber. “Wait, so you’re sayin’ that–” she started, springing off of André’s bed and onto her feet.

           “–He wasn’t the one who got outvoted,” Felicity finished her teammate’s sentence. “You voted against yourself?!” asked Marjani, still trying to understand the revelation, “But if the one vote for you wasn’t you, who was it?” “Didn’t think it would have been Moruga,” explained André, “Talked to him about it at the last Splatfest, when we were on a team together, and he confirmed it. Between the other two, if I had to guess, it wasn’t Caroline, either.”

           “Moruga, I understand; he’s the kind of guy to prioritize the greater good, like the whole team’s well-being. But why did Caroline vote that way?” asked Amber, gesturing with her hand idly as she spoke, “Every time we’ve met up with them, she doesn’t seem like the kind of person to make that decision. I mean, she’s the captain, so it would make sense for her to want to protect the team’s reputation, but I get the impression she cares too much about her teammates as friends.”

           “I think Caroline knew what I was planning,” André speculated, folding his arms and sitting back in his couch, “She might not always seem like it, but she’s no slouch; she could probably tell how all of us were going to vote, and she knew that it came down to her to either let me go through with it or to fight me and Moruga on it by tying the vote with Jolokia. I would have quit the team either way, but she could’ve made it harder. In a way… it was her blessing for me to quit voluntarily.”

           He took a deep breath before continuing. “If she had voted the other way, though, I think she knew Jolokia would’ve thought it was mine. And if that had happened, Jolokia would’ve felt like the vote was the two of us against the two of them,” he explained, “Caroline and Moruga have been on the team longer than either of us, so it would’ve just fractured the whole team and made things worse, especially if the truth came out afterward.”

           Marjani folded her arms. “Poor Jolokia…” murmured Felicity, “It sounds like you two were… close.” André closed his eyes and nodded. “Yeah…” he mumbled. “Is that why you don’t date?” asked Marjani, “Because of her? Really?” “It might not mean a lot to you,” argued André, “But for me… I blew my chance with her by doing what I did. I broke her heart with that vote, and I can never fix that. What right do I have to run off and date someone else after doing that to her?”

           “You kiddin’ me?!” protested Marjani, “Have you seen how she looks at you whenever we run into those guys? She’s still head-over-heels for you, man! You passed that up because you felt guilty? You still coulda dated her anyway!” André shook his head. “It’s not just that,” he argued, “I had to distance myself from the team, and cut off contact with all of them. Any interaction, and quitting would’ve been pointless. If the League came after me even after quitting the team, I couldn’t risk taking them down and dragging their names through the mud with me.”

           He leaned forward again, resting his elbows back on his knees. “I took a year off from Turf War just so the dust could settle, so the whole thing would have a chance to die down,” he continued, “I ran tests over at Ammo Knights to figure out if people were right about my size being an advantage. I must’ve put a straight hour into every single weapon kit they had available, and still never proved anything concrete. So when the next season was finally over, I started looking for a new team to join.”

           “As soon as the next season was over?” asked Amber, “But…” “Yeah,” replied André, “I started trying to find someone – anyone – who would hire me on.” Marjani uncrossed her arms again and raised her eyebrow as Amber leaned forward just a little more. “But when we met you,” Felicity quietly pointed out, “That was… toward the end of the summer…?” André nodded dolefully.

           “It hadn’t been enough,” he continued, “I was too well-known. Everyone either did a background check on me when I applied, or just remembered me from having been around when it all went down. I wanted to avoid drawing attention to myself, and had hoped that preventing the League from getting involved would help me slip under the radar, but by quitting the team, I’d turned the gossip into a full-blown scandal story.”

           He paused for a moment before speaking again. “I knew that if no one wanted me on their team because of the complaints from last time, I definitely wouldn’t get hired by anyone as a freelancer,” he continued, “Toward the end of the summer… I won’t lie, I was getting pretty desperate. But I got accepted into a completely new team. No tryouts. No background check. No questions asked.” He looked over to Amber with a small smirk growing on his face, which she began to reciprocate.

           “It was just what I needed to be able to get back into Turf War,” he admitted, “A new team that no one could have heard about, no reputation to speak of. Two members who were complete rookies and had never even heard of ‘André the Kraken.’ I was skeptical at first, when you told me you hired the first three people who applied to join your new team, but I realized… I wouldn’t have been able to get back into Turf War if it wasn’t for that. I owe you for it, Amber.”

           “I don’t think any of us would be here if I hadn’t been so hasty about getting this team put together,” replied Amber, “I owe you guys just as much for sticking with me, even when my brother showed up.” “Mm-hmm,” agreed Felicity, “And me, for when I told you all about… the real me.” André looked over to Marjani, an almost-expectant look on his face as she glanced between the others. “What?!” she asked. André chuckled. “It’s fine, you don’t have to admit it if you don’t want to,” he joked. “Ugh, fine,” Marjani relented, “Same. I… I need you guys. Not for that lovey-dovey friendship crap, though. I just need the cash and bein’ a freelancer blows.”

           “We’ve all got our reasons,” agreed Amber, “But that doesn’t change the fact that we’ve gotta stick together.” André sighed pensively, getting the attention of his teammates once more. “Now, more than ever,” he acknowledged, “I need that to be true.” “What do you mean?” asked Felicity. “Because… because the story doesn’t actually end there,” replied André, looking back up to her, “I decided that it was time to finally tell you guys this because of what I learned just a few days ago.”

           “I’m telling you guys this now because it might not be the whole truth.”

 Two days ago…

             André stretched as he walked down the sidewalk, hefting his Roller’s bag up on his shoulder. The Outcasts had just finished a practice session at Flounder Heights, near Felicity’s residence, and André was making the long trek back to his apartment. After months of playing Turf War again, his oversized body had finally begun to reacclimate to the repeated stresses and was stiffening up less and less after each practice session or match. It was a bit late coming, considering the season was close to its end, but André had begun to acknowledge that “better late than never” really was an acceptable philosophy sometimes.

           He breathed the fresh air deeply. The cooler early-year weather had finally broken for spring to return, and with it, the Outcasts seemed to have been rejuvenated. Other than the recent incidents with Felicity’s father and Amber’s brother, things seemed to be turning up for the team. Perhaps they would end their first season on a high note, even if they had struggled to find their footing as a team for some time after their formation.

           As André passed by a thin alleyway between two buildings, he heard a sudden voice hiss at him. “Hey!” it buzzed in an annoyingly hoarse and nasally tone, “Hey, youse! Stretch!” André stopped and grumbled under his breath, knowing that no one else was around for whoever was speaking to be addressing. He adjusted the strap on his Roller’s bag and rolled his eyes.

           He turned to look down the alley and spotted a squat, slightly overweight Inkling, probably in his late twenties, his tentacles orange, though with purple tips betraying his true natural color. A thin, barely-noticeable scar could be seen stretching across his left temple. His outfit was comprised of a black leather jacket and likewise dark pants and shoes; simple, but clear on its message of wannabe intimidation.

           “Yeah, I’m talkin’ ta youse,” he continued haughtily, as though he perceived himself as clever, “Youse is dat Giant Squid guy, right?” “Kraken,” André corrected him, “And you are?” “Yeah, whatever, same thing,” sneered the Inkling indifferently, scratching his ear momentarily as André raised his eyebrow and crossed his arms. “I’ll ask again,” he reiterated, “Who are you?” “Dat’s not important,” insisted the Inkling, taking a step forward, “What’s important is dat I found da right giant freak.”

           “What do you want?” asked André, taking a step forward himself at the squid’s backhanded insult, causing the Inkling to stop and momentarily look as though he was going to back up. André thought that he could see the other Inkling gulp before steeling himself. “Listen up, ‘cause I’m only gonna say dis once, an’ I ain’t repeatin’ myself if I go too fast fuh youse,” he continued, “I’m… a friend of Butch.” André glowered slightly at the mention of Spice Splat’s grandstanding Inkbrusher.

           “Ah, yeah, dat got your attention, eh? Yeah, we all know how jealous youse is ‘bout ‘im,” continued the Inkling, smirking slightly at having gotten a reaction out of André, “So anyways, Butch has been… talkin’ about youse, Giant Squid, an’ he ain’t been happy. Not at all. An’ me an’ Butch’s other… friends don’t like dat. See, we like it when our friends’re happy, ya know? Youse can relate ta dat, I bet?” André grumbled and unfolded his arms. “Get on with it,” he snapped impatiently, “Or I’m out of here.”

           “Alright, alright,” the other squid complied nonchalantly, “I’ll get ta da point. Here’s what’s gonna happen, Stretch: When youse and your little Outsiders, or whatevah youse punks call yourselves, go up against Butch’s team, we want youse ta keep a good distance from Butch. Steer clear. Dat means stay away from ‘im.” “I know what it means,” interjected André, growing increasingly annoyed.

           “Oh, and ya know what?” continued the Inkling, “If youse could be so kind as ta, eh… heh… go easy on Butch’s team, we’d appreciate dat, too.” “Hold up,” interjected André, his mouth curling into a snarl, “You want me to throw matches against Spice Splat? We’ve lost every match we’ve had with them as it is.” “And it’s gonna stay dat way,” retorted the Inkling, “It was hard enough gettin’ Butch on da stupid team. So don’t think youse can mess wid him fuh replacin’ youse widdout pissin’ off da wrong people.”

           “Or what?” asked André through gritted teeth, folding his arms again. “Or else youse and your Outsiders… might get some more complaints filed against youse,” replied the other Inkling, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin, “An’ dis time, we’ll make sure youse nevah play Turf War again. Capiche?” André’s eyes widened as he realized what the other Inkling was implying. In only a split second, he could feel the gears in his head whizzing up to speed as everything he knew suddenly turned upside-down and all the pieces of the puzzle fell into place.

           “Yeah, I bet dat’s got youse sca–waaaah!” the Inkling’s smug attitude faded in a moment as André grabbed him by his jacket and lifted him clean off of his feet, stepping forward to drag the squirming, helpless man into the alley and forcefully hold his back against the nearest wall. “Put me down!” shouted the Inkling, “I swear, I’ll get da attention of every coddamn Inkling on da block! Dis is assault!”

           “What do you know about those complaints?! Who sent you?! Who do you really work for?!” bellowed André, his deep, gravelly voice resounding with fury the likes of which he hadn’t felt in a long time, “Talk! Now!” “Alright, alright!” whimpered the Inkling, shaking in terror at what he’d inadvertently unleashed, “J-just put me down!” “Not until you tell me what I want to know,” growled André, gripping the Inkling’s jacket even tighter, “Not risking you running off.”

           “I-it was two years ago!” continued the other Inkling, “Li’l B-Butch was lookin’ ta get into Turf Wars, see? So da D-Don – dat’s his uncle, see – Don Fontina… he came up widda plan ta get Butch on one o’ da best teams in da League easy. H-he did a little research an’ found a team he could use, dose Spice kids. Only dere was one problem; dey had four members already. So he had ta… open up a slot on da team, and youse was da easiest one ta target.”

           André growled and lifted the Inkling higher. “I-it was nuttin’ personal, I swear!” the Inkling shouted in fear, “Da Don had us write up a buncha fake complaints, some bull about youse bein’ too big fuh Turf War, an’ bring ‘em in ta da League. Aftuh a coupla weeks, youse were off da team an’ da Don slipped a mention of it ta Butch. Butch tried out an’ made da team, no problem.” André dropped the Inkling, who stumbled slightly as he landed, falling onto his side before haphazardly scrambling back to his feet.

           “It was all rigged…” he murmured, trying to get himself under control, “It was… damn it!” The Inkling backed away from André, terrified that the larger squid was going to explode with rage once more, before turning tail and beginning to run down the alley in fear when André glared at him once more. “Don’t let me see you again!” shouted André, gritting his teeth as he tried to process what he’d just learned.

           As the older Inkling vanished from sight, André readjusted his bag back onto his shoulder and turned the other way, his voice still snarling with each exhalation. He had a lot to think about; this revelation changed everything he thought he’d known about what had happened a year before, and he had no idea how much of this the members of Spice Splat might’ve known. One thing was for certain: It was finally time for him to figure out a way to tell Amber, Marjani, and Felicity about all this. He’d kept the story of his dismissal from them for too long.

 The present day…

             André hung his head and tried to release the tension filling his entire being as he recounted what had happened. His jaw was clenched as he remembered the callousness of the Inkling who’d tried and failed miserably at intimidating him into submission, only for the attempt to backfire and reveal his involvement in manipulating the shameful events of two years past. Amber, Marjani, and Felicity all exchanged shocked glances as they tried to figure out what to say to console their teammate.

           “So now you know,” finished André, lifting his head again, “…If what he said was true… then it was all a sham. One big lie to get Butch on a famous team, and we fell for it.” Amber shook her head and sighed, taking in the surprising truth as she stared down at her feet. “What the fuck, man?!” shouted Marjani, “You’re tellin’ me that fuckin’ self-centered twat got you kicked off of Spice Splat so he could take your place?!” “Marjie, language,” interjected Felicity quietly, “…I think.”

           “Truth be told, I’m feeling kind of the same way myself,” André rumbled with a frown. “Why did you wait until today to tell us?” Amber finally asked, looking back up at André, “You should’ve called us on the spot. I think only Felicity would’ve gotten home already by then; Marjani and I could’ve turned around and we could’ve gotten back together over at Felicity’s.” André shook his head, folding his hands as he rested his elbows on his knees.

           “I needed time to cool off and process,” he replied, “I… I couldn’t be sure if that guy was telling me the truth. I thought maybe Butch had asked him to rile me, get me to do something stupid that he’d be able to use against me. I didn’t want to act on a gut feeling alone.” Marjani crossed her arms. “Sounds to me like the wimp was practically wettin’ himself when you yelled at him. Kinda hard to lie like that,” she noted, “Still, if he pissed you off that much, you shoulda told us sooner, even if his sorry ass was lyin’.”

           “Marjie’s right,” added Felicity. André nodded and sighed again. “I know, I… wasn’t thinking straight,” he agreed, “I spent all yesterday here thinking it through and trying to figure out what to do next.” The others fell silent for a moment, each deep in thought before Felicity spoke up and broke the silence. “What do we do next?” she asked. Amber removed her sunglasses and pinched the bridge of her nose.

           “We could… um…” she muttered, trying to think of the best course of action, “…We could bring it to the League. What the Fontinas did counts as fraud of some kind; the League might be able to do something about it legally.” “The Fontinas are the fuckin’ mafia, Cap,” argued Marjani, “Sal Fontina’s practically untouchable; I bet he’s probably got half the League board on speed dial.” André crossed his arms and sat back into his couch again.

           “Not only that, but we have no actual evidence,” he added, “It’s just our word against his, and for all we know, he could just buy his way out of the whole thing and turn it right back on us under the table if we tried. No one would take us seriously. Even if he’s already found out that his lackey messed up and told me everything, he probably hasn’t done anything yet because he knows he has the upper hand if we try something. We need proof. Solid proof.”

           “What proof is there?” asked Marjani, “I mean, like, if they did somethin’ like that, there’s gotta be, like, a paper trail somewhere, right?” André nodded. “The original complaint submission forms,” he proposed. Amber nodded slowly as she realized what he meant. “Right… If we were able to get our hands on all of those, we could find whatever connected them – handwriting, similar wording, something – and show that to the League as evidence that they had all been filled out by a small group of people,” she said.

           “Won’t turn the tables overnight,” continued André, “But if we can bring it to the League’s attention and get them investigating it, it couldn’t hurt to have them in our corner.” Felicity twiddled her thumbs anxiously before speaking up again. “But… do they… does the League file those away or anything? It’s been two years; would they still have them?” she asked.

           André furrowed his brow and frowned. “Probably not,” he admitted, “More than likely, even if they were filed, it’s been long enough that they might’ve just been thrown out or shredded by now.” Marjani moved her weight from one foot to the other and unfolded her arms. “First, we’ve gotta get that far,” she pointed out, “We’re a buncha nobodies. The League wouldn’t just hand those over to us, especially if they think André is just tryin’ to get back at the people who brought ‘em in.”

           The four fell silent as the reality of the situation settled in; their hopes for vindication were quickly being dashed by their own insignificance. They remained quiet, each shifting uncomfortably as they wracked their brains for a solution. Something had to be done to exonerate André, but the Outcasts were hardly in a position to do anything. Finally, Amber looked up, glancing between her three teammates. “We don’t have that kind of pull,” she said in realization.

           “…But I think I know who might.”

 SPLATOON: THE OUTCASTS

EPISODE END

             Caroline put her hands on her hips and inspected her work laid out on the table before her: She had finally finished disassembling her Refurbished Mini Splatling and was mentally preparing herself for the next hour or so of carefully cleaning each part. It was a personal ritual of hers after every match, to make sure her weapon stayed in perfect condition. Every piece was systematically organized to ensure that she knew exactly where each one was at any given time.

           As she turned to collect her cleaning tools, she heard a knock on her front door. Groaning quietly to herself at the unexpected delay in her meticulous routine, she made her way out of her kitchen and over to her apartment’s front door. A strange sense of apprehension suddenly washed over her as she put her hand on the knob. Shaking it off not a moment later, however, she twisted it and pulled the door open.

           Much to her surprise, her visitor was not one, but four other Inklings – André, Amber, Marjani, and Felicity, the Outcasts, with her gargantuan ex-teammate standing in front of the others, a serious look on his face that the other three each echoed in their own ways. Stunned at the sight of the motley group showing up at her apartment of all places unannounced, Caroline failed to produce a greeting of any kind.

           “Caroline,” André spoke simply, his gold eyes looking unflinchingly into his former captain’s, “We need to talk.” Caroline folded her arms and sighed, closing her eyes for just a moment before shaking her head and smirking slightly. She looked up to André, her expression softening to one of relief, though not without a hint of annoyance as the curl in her lip receded.

           A slim, black-suited figure knelt at the edge of a rooftop looming over Inkopolis Plaza. His red tentacles gleamed in the sunlight as he squinted and pursed his lips, scanning the area below with a quiet sigh. His green eyes, prominent W-shaped pupils contracting ever-so-slightly, darted back and forth as he looked between each and every young Inkling in the plaza. He’d grown accustomed to seeing a number of those who frequented the area regularly in the time he’d been there, but not one of them had truly caught his attention.

           That is, until today.

           The giant sliding doors to Inkopolis Tower opened once more, possibly for the last time in the evening; the day’s Turf War matches were coming to a close. The Octoling sitting on that rooftop had been waiting and watching all day for this chance. Determined not to make even a minor mistake, he had patiently held himself back from taking action when the two teams now exiting the tower had first arrived. “That’s them…” he murmured to himself, watching as one of the two teams split away from the other.

           “…The ‘Outcasts.’”

           “Agggggh!” growled one of the four teammates loudly, a dark-skinned girl with a black leather jacket and striking purple tentacles, drawing a few stares from nearby Inklings, “I can’t believe we lost by one fuckin’ percent!” The shortest of the four, a pink-tentacled girl in a school uniform, turned around as she skipped along a short distance ahead of the others, walking backwards carefully as she spoke up. “That’s the closest loss we’ve had so far, though!” she chimed in, grinning in spite of her teammate’s frustration, “We’re getting more consistent!”

           “We coulda won, though!” protested her teammate, “I just needed, like, half a second to aim my Inkstrike right! I inked all around myself instead ‘cause the damn clock ran out!” The tallest member of the team, a gargantuan young man with light blue tentacles draped down behind his ears instead of tied up, chuckled while shaking his head. “What, you think it’s funny?!” asked the first girl, a distinct snarl in her voice.

           “Nah, just surprised you’re beating yourself up over it than anything,” replied the boy, “That’s not like you.” “Hey, if you wanna take credit, big guy, I’m not complainin’,” replied the girl, beginning to cool off, “Least I know I did my best.” “Hey, now, come on,” interjected the team’s captain, her yellow tentacles shining brightly as her tinted sunglasses reflected the sunset, “We’re a team. If we didn’t win, we all share the blame.”

           “Chain’s only as strong as its weakest link,” added the boy, “We can give it all we’ve got, but if we can’t pick up each other’s slack, it’s pointless.” “Yeah, yeah, we’re gettin’ close, though,” replied the first girl, “Think we’ll be winnin’ more often before the season’s over?” “There isn’t a whole lot of time left,” replied the second girl, having turned back around and fallen back in with the rest of the group, “The season’s gone by so fast.”

           “We’ve still got a few weeks left,” retorted the captain, “There’s still time for things to change. Well, a little, at least.” The boy adjusted the bag containing his Roller on his shoulder and nodded in agreement. “Eh, I’m not holdin’ my breath,” replied the first girl. The four teammates sighed nearly in unison as they made their way down the street, unaware of the young man watching them from above.

           The Octoling boy rose to his feet, grinning. “Took me long enough to track you down,” he whispered to himself, “Now then… let’s have a chat with the captain, hm?” He stretched his arms slightly, flexing his hands to make sure they were limber before taking off along the rooftop, keeping his eyes on the four teammates below as he followed after them. One by one, the group split apart as they went their separate ways, each heading home for the night.

           The Octoling kept his eyes on the yellow-tentacled girl, following her through the streets and vaulting from rooftop to rooftop as needed to keep her in sight. As she came to an apartment building, entering through the ground floor’s front door, the boy made his way over to a nearby fire escape on the side of the building next to it. He clambered down quietly, arriving at the door a reasonable distance behind her, trying to avoid attracting the attention of any passersby in the area.

           As he stepped into the hallway on the base floor of the building, the boy watched closely as the girl entered the stairwell at the other end, making sure to remain unseen. He looked back and forth as he walked down the hallway, listening closely in case of any tenants leaving their apartments. He entered the stairwell behind the girl, counting the seconds in his head since she’d entered and taking note of the speed of her footsteps above him.

           As he heard a door above open and close, the boy began to climb the steps quickly, hoping to catch up to the girl before she was out of his sight for too long. His mental math flashing through his mind, he deduced from the pace of her steps and the time she’d been in the stairwell to estimate the floor on which she’d exited. As he reached that floor, the boy peered through a small window in the door out of the stairwell, spotting the girl as he’d expected, just as she entered one of the apartments on the floor.

           Exiting the stairwell silently as the girl closed her apartment door behind her, the boy could hear the faint clicking of her door locking. He grinned and shook his head. “That won’t stop me,” he whispered to himself as he reached down to his belt, where a thin, cylindrical device was hanging. He took it in his hand and pulled it upward to free the clip from the belt. He pressed an elongated button on the other end against the palm of his left hand, causing it to quietly click and lock in place.

           At the top end of the device, a steady stream of purple ink suddenly began to flow out, quickly solidifying into an elongated shape. As it formed a pair of sharp points with a thin gap between them running down the length of the blade, the ink faded from its purple color to a shiny golden hue. The Octoling brandished his weapon as he stood in front of the door to the girl’s apartment. He breathed deeply. “Seven months,” he muttered to himself, pointing the blade at the door and closing his eyes, “I’m so close…”

           He sighed and aimed his blade downward, squeezing the clip on the handle with his index finger. More of his purple ink swirled inside a round hole in the blade located at the bottom end of the split that started at the tip, almost immediately gliding up through the gap and spewing out from between the two points to form a small puddle at the base of the door that began to leak underneath it and into the apartment.

           After a few moments, the boy released the trigger and pressed the button on the end of the blade again, causing the blade to break back down into its ink form and retreat into the handle. He clipped it back onto his belt and took a deep breath to center himself, before transforming into his octopus form and dropping down into the small patch of ink he’d created.

             Amber sighed as she stretched before opening her apartment window with her free hand to let in some of the fresh air from outside. She pulled at the zipper on her bag, opening it up and revealing her Octoshot Replica inside. She cradled it gently in both of her hands, holding it by the handle with her right, and inspected it, as if to make sure it hadn’t been damaged during the Outcasts’ earlier Turf War match.

           She let go of the weapon with her left hand to move her fingers up behind her signature Tinted Shades and rub one of her tired eyes. As she lowered her left arm again, she stared contemplatively out the window, her Octoshot now hanging at her side. The Outcasts had improved a lot since the Turf War season had begun, but their progress was slow and they still had a long way to go. Their future was shrouded in uncertainty, least of all not Amber’s own.

           “So… this little dump is where you live now, hm?”

           Amber’s eyes widened behind her sunglasses and she gasped loudly in surprise as she suddenly heard an all-too-familiar voice speak up behind her. She whipped around, her jaw dropping in shock as she saw a red-tentacled young man in a black suit leaning up against the inside of her apartment door, a small pool of purple ink at his feet. His arms were crossed and a smug smirk was plastered on his face. His alien-looking green eyes with their distinctive pupil shape and purple marking surrounding them struck fear into her heart, causing it to skip several beats.

           Amber’s voice caught in her throat as she began to tremble. “M-Maverink!” she finally managed to force out a word, trying not to speak too loudly out of shock, “Wh-what are you doing here?!” The Octoling boy shook his head, his smirk widening as he stepped forward out of his nonchalant posture and into a fully upright position. “Now,” he murmured, “Is that any way to greet your big brother…?”

           “…Miriam?”

           A chill went down Amber’s spine as the young man, Maverink, spoke a name she hadn’t heard for almost a year – hers. “It’s been quite some time,” he continued, “…It’s been what, nine, maybe ten months since your last dead drop? You completely and utterly vanished on us.” Amber swallowed hard and tried not to sweat as she felt her head spin and throb to the rhythm of her heartbeat, her greatest secret standing before her, confronting her over her attempt to conceal it from Inkopolis and the world at large. She had prayed that this day would never come, even though she had suspected for months that her older brother was in the city looking for her.

           She took a deep breath, causing Maverink to raise an eyebrow, his sharp-toothed grin widening, as if he could already anticipate what was going through her mind. “M-Maverink, I can explain…” she began, “I-I was… I was ordered to stop the dead drops. I-it was supposed to be a deep cover mission. My orders were to continue the drops for six weeks and then cease communication until extraction.”

           At this, Maverink scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t lie to me, Mimi. If that were the case, I wouldn’t be here. This isn’t a pleasure visit. I’m not here out of curiosity, or because I think the Council knows something about your mission that I don’t; they sent me,” he revealed, his smile beginning to fade, “…I saw that Turf War match earlier.” “Th-that’s part of the cover,” Amber stammered. He was seeing through her lie, of course; he was her brother, after all.

           “And… doffing your disguise to rescue one of your new teammates from her father?” asked Maverink again, taking a step forward while keeping his arms crossed, “Was that part of your cover, too?” Amber’s heart skipped a beat again; he had found out about the incident with Felix and his dad a few weeks earlier, and how she had intervened to protect her teammate from Fingal’s instability, though he seemed unaware of “Felicity’s” true identity.

           “…I imagine you’ve already figured it out, but that’s how I finally found you. As you can tell, I was… delayed somewhat, but I figured it out eventually. When I first began investigating your little friend, she didn’t appear in the Turf War League’s registry after I managed to obtain the files,” Maverink continued, “I had a few theories; I even considered the possibility that she was you, and that it was all just another layer to your grand ruse; but I ruled that out after I found some footage of her dancing onstage at that festival a couple months back.”

           He turned to his right, as if staring at the blank wall of Amber’s apartment. “I was about to give up on my hypothesis that you came to her rescue because she was one of your teammates, but I realized that she could be registered under the surname of that errant father of hers mentioned in the news report,” he sighed, recounting how he had tracked down his sister, “With that, I was finally able to find the listings and official ID pictures for her, her team, and the captain… What was it you call yourself now? ‘Amber Blaine?’ Now, why would you drop your disguise to help her like that?”

           Knowing that the jig was up, Amber sighed and decided to begin answering her brother’s questions honestly. “I-I… had to avoid drawing attention to myself,” she murmured, “I don’t want Inkopolis’ eyes on me for something like that.” “…And why not? A selfless act of heroism would have cemented her trust in you. Isn’t that what I taught you?” asked Maverink, turning his head to look at his sister.

           “…I was never supposed to be seen. I just wanted to keep an eye on her and her dad while keeping the alias away from it all just in case I had to intervene,” replied Amber, “It… would’ve raised too many questions, opened a can of worms. People would’ve been asking too much about me – how I knew to do something, how I had the skills to do it, why I was even there in the first place – that would’ve risked it all. That… it’s not who ‘Amber’ is.” Maverink turned back to her, uncrossing his arms and squinting ever-so-slightly. “And who is she, then?” he asked simply.

           Amber was silent, unsure of how to respond to this retort. Maverink could see that she was at a loss for words and crossed his arms again, his expression growing even more dour. “You know, it’s been seven months since they asked me to find you, at least nine since your last drop. You vanished right after the Grand Admiral was captured by the enemy. Do you have any idea what else happened around that time?” he asked, his tone becoming more accusatory.

           Amber broke eye contact with Maverink, having a terrible feeling that she knew what he was going to say next. “Things went to shit. Without the Great Zapfish, the energy crisis is no closer to being solved, and without our leader, the Council was in chaos for a while, and loss of morale has led to several desertions among the ranks. Mimi…” Maverink started, before swallowing a lump in his own throat, “Miriam. The Commander… he’s gone.” Amber felt her heart rate skyrocket again as Maverink’s words hit her like a train. “Wh-what?!” she blurted, “Th-the Commander…?! Haliphron…?! He– What happened?!”

           Maverink took a deep, ragged breath and breathed a long sigh, the memory of what had occurred in his sister’s absence clearly paining him. “They were keeping a high-security prisoner at Cephalon HQ, a Squidbeak that had been captured following a covert attempt at stealing the Great Zapfish back,” he explained, “Commander Haliphron had been interrogating him for about three weeks when four other Squidbeaks suddenly showed up, guns blazing, and tore the place up.”

           “They dismantled the Octoweapons and took down Octavio himself. When they took the Great Zapfish back, it caused a massive power outage at HQ, and the prisoner’s security system went down,” he continued, “The cameras went out with the power, so we don’t know exactly what happened, but it seems that the Commander went to make sure the Squidbeak didn’t break out. As far as we can tell, the prisoner killed him in order to escape.”

           “…The C-Commander…” Amber whispered, “…I can’t believe it…” Maverink sighed again, looking down at the floor glumly. “You missed the funeral… He was buried with full honors,” he recounted, before looking up to the ceiling wistfully, “The passing of Commander Septimus Haliphron, the Seven-Armed Samurai himself.” “I-I’m sorry…” said Amber quietly, “I know how much he meant to you.”

           “I suppose it might not be as hard for you, since you and the Commander were never as close,” conceded Maverink, “But to me, he was… like a father. A second father, anyway. He and Dad were as different as night and day, but they were always close. I don’t know if you remember that.” Amber hung her head, feeling tears well up in her eyes as Maverink had brought up their late father, and by extension, both of their parents. “…I do,” she said strongly, her voice unwavering.

           Maverink’s mouth curled at the corners at this, his ire overtaking his composure. “Then why weren’t you there? The man who raised us after Mother and Father were killed is dead,” he snarled, “And you just went AWOL! You used the state of chaos we were in to slip into the shadows thinking we’d forget about you! You’ve been playing a bloody sport for half a year when we needed you back home!” “Because that’s who ‘Amber’ is!” retorted Amber, “She’s selfish! She just wants to live in peace and play Turf War! And she isn’t a damn child soldier!”

           Maverink unfolded his arms once more and furrowed his brow, his teeth showing more than they had up to that point. “You were not a child soldier!” he bellowed, “You graduated from the academy with flying colors, and were immediately granted the rank of lieutenant – skipping ensign entirely, I might add!” Amber looked up at her brother, her own expression now just as bitter and angry as his.

           “I didn’t want a rank! Especially not one with responsibilities like that, straight out of the academy!” she yelled, “And you’re forgetting that I graduated two years early, when I was still a minor, and only because you and the Commander were already training me years before I even went to the academy!” Maverink gritted his teeth and inhaled sharply. “Miri–!” he began, before his sister interrupted him once more.

           “–Our entire lives have been nothing but war, Maverink! We grew up in a military state! Our parents were KIA when I was just six!” Amber ranted furiously, “All I want is to live a normal life, where the worst battle I have to fight isn’t a life-or-death situation; where my teammates actually respect me, and are more than just subordinates who won’t get themselves killed on my orders! Why is that too much to ask?!”

           “Enough!” hissed Maverink, “What happened to Callisto was not your fault, Miriam! You had no way of knowing what was going to happen!” Amber gritted her teeth as she felt the muscles in her limbs tense and lock up. “What’s done is done,” continued Maverink, “You can’t change what’s in the past. And you can’t run from it, either.” He began to step forward toward his sister. “My orders were to bring you back,” he said, “…By force, if necessary.”

           Amber tried to control the pace of her breathing as Maverink neared her. She took a wary step back as her brother tried to force a weak smile. She had never seen him struggle to control his conflicting emotions like this before; he had always maintained a level head. It seemed that confronting her after so long for her absence following the death of their adoptive father had caused the feelings that Maverink had been suppressing to well up once more, and the confirmation of his suspicions that she had indeed selfishly abandoned not just her mission, but her past life – him included – had to be tearing him apart inside.

           “I… can’t…” Amber whispered, shaking her head. “…I-I’ve already burned that bridge.” Maverink’s expression twisted once more, as if he could anticipate what was coming next, but couldn’t move quickly enough to prevent it. In one swift movement, Amber turned away from her brother and leapt out of the open window behind her, pointing her Octoshot, still in hand, at the wall of the next building over.

           Maverink rushed over to the window, watching as Amber swam up a trail of ink that she’d left on the adjacent wall as she fell. “No, you don’t!” he growled, leaping out after her and removing his Fountain Saber from his belt once more. He activated it in midair, spraying his own stream of ink up the wall next to his sister’s, and transformed into his octopus form before landing with a small splash, giving chase as Amber made her way along the rooftop above.

             Amber frantically dialed on her cell phone as she raced across the rooftops of Inkopolis, vaulting over alleyways as she tried to outpace her brother. “Come on, pick up, pick up, pick up!” she muttered as she held the phone to her ear, praying that the untimely arrival of yet another spam e-mail wouldn’t interrupt her call, “Please, please, please!” After a few seconds of ringing, she heard a voice on the other end, feeling her heart leap in relief as she did.

           “Yo, Cap, what’s up?” Marjani’s voice greeted her, “You forget something?” “No time to explain!” shouted Amber, “I need you in that one alley near the café, now! If the others are still nearby, try to find them and bring them, but I need backup over there ASAP!” “‘Backup?!’ Cap, what’s going on?!” questioned Marjani, clearly frightened by Amber’s tone. “Just go, Marjani!” yelled Amber, before hanging up to focus on her flight.

           She raised her Octoshot and sprayed the ground in front of her to create a path of ink, using the momentum of her swimming speed to leap across a wider gap in the buildings, landing awkwardly and stumbling as she transformed back and continued running. “Miriam!” she heard Maverink call out behind her, “Get back here!” Amber glanced over her shoulder, spotting her brother only a rooftop away – she was out of his blade’s firing range, but he was gaining on her. Turf War had kept her skills sharp for the most part, but Maverink was older and more experienced, outranked her, and had always been more serious about staying in top form.

           Amber continued running west, toward the setting sun, as Inkopolis Tower grew closer and closer, hoping that her sunglasses would give her an advantage and the bright light would affect her brother’s vision more than her own. Finally, she spotted the place she was looking for, and, nearly out of breath, dashed toward it, dropping down into the remote alleyway and firing downward to create a small puddle of ink for her to land in safely.

           Amber waited a few moments to see if Maverink had seen which direction she’d gone before transforming back and stepping out of her ink. Hunched over slightly, she looked left and right to see if her brother was nearby, before suddenly straightening herself out to her full height to dodge a small spray of Maverink’s purple ink. “Miriam!” he barked, barring the exit to the alley. Amber turned away from him and sprayed her yellow ink up the wall of the building at the alley’s end, ducking into it to swim up and away.

           Maverink saw what his sister was attempting and quickly responded, pulling the trigger on his blade and before sweeping it sideways to splatter a horizontal line of purple ink through the entirety of Amber’s vertical yellow trail. As the swimming Amber hit her brother’s color, the ink forced her to transform back into her humanoid form. “Wahh!” she yelped as she fell off of the wall and back down onto the hard concrete of the alleyway.

           Amber winced in pain as her Tinted Shades fell from her face from the impact. Out of breath and off her feet, she reached for her sunglasses as she reopened her green eyes, marked with a distinct purple shape around them and W-shaped pupils, now laid bare for the world to see for the first time. She looked up at her brother, their identical pairs of eyes seeing each other unobstructed for the first time in a year, as he advanced on her. She rose to her feet, leaving her sunglasses on the ground where they were, and began backing away from Maverink.

           “It’s over, Miriam. Even if you could elude me, you’d have to leave the city and start over again somewhere else. And we both know that I would still find you, eventually. It’s time for you to come home,” Maverink urged her, recomposing himself despite how winded he was and extending his hand outward to his sister, “…Please, don’t make me drag you back. I’ll do what I can to smooth it over with the Council, make them understand that you want out. But I need you there with me.” Amber bumped into the wall, her fear finally beginning to overtake her.

           “Hey!”

           Maverink glanced over his shoulder at the source of the sudden third party. Amber looked past him, seeing none other than Marjani, Skull Bandana up over her face, Splatling at the ready, and her ink color altered to match Amber’s yellow, other than the tips that remained purple as always. “Oh, come on, who–?” Maverink began to ask before Marjani shouted another interruption. “–Hands off our captain!” she shouted, before firing her Splatling at the Octolings.

           Maverink swiftly jumped out of the way of Marjani’s ink bullets, allowing Amber to be harmlessly hit by her own ink color and leaving a path of yellow straight from his sister to her irate deliverer. Amber took the opportunity to duck into the ink and swim over to Marjani as the latter stared down the Octoling boy confidently, despite clearly being beyond bewildered at the situation. As she rose back out of the ink, Amber stood side-by-side with her teammate, breathing heavily.

           “Sorry it took so long, Cap,” murmured Marjani. “Right now, I’m just glad you guys found me in time,” replied Amber, “Is it just you, or did you find the–” “–You’ll have to do better than a sluggish Splatling if you’re trying to hit me!” shouted Maverink, dashing forward at top speed before his sister could finish her question. Marjani attempted to rev her Splatling up again, only for Maverink to deliver a swift roundhouse kick to it as he arrived at her location, knocking her off balance.

           Amber quickly began retreating from Maverink now that the corner of the alleyway from which Marjani had appeared was no longer blocked. “Marjani, come on!” she shouted as her teammate struggled back onto her feet. “Let’s not start this again!” shouted Maverink as he began to pursue his sister. After only a step, however, he spotted a laser sight aiming in front of him and skidded to a stop before a single echoing shot of yellow ink covered the ground in a line, separating the siblings.

           Maverink looked around the corner toward the alleyway’s exit onto the sidewalk and spotted Felicity, her Squiffer in hand and her tentacle color the same yellow as Amber and Marjani, save for the pink ends. Maverink smirked as Amber used the brief opportunity to put a little more distance between herself and her brother. “Missed me, darling!” Maverink mocked the would-be sniper while pointing his blade in her direction, preparing to create his own ink trail to continue his pursuit.

           “Wasn’t really aiming at you, creep,” retorted Felicity with a smile as smug as her foe’s. Maverink’s smile disappeared in realization as he looked down to the ink trail before him, just in time for a massive figure to leap out of the ink – André, Roller in hand and his tentacles likewise the same yellow as his teammates. Having not expected the giant Inkling to get close by using his shirt’s Ninja Squid ability, Maverink had only a split second to look up at the midair figure as André brought his Roller down.

           “…Oh.”

           Maverink raised his blade just in time to block André’s strike, his knees buckling from the sheer force as he tried to push the Roller away. “What the hell is this behemoth?!” he asked, grinning condescendingly despite his predicament, his pained expression betraying the effort he was exerting, “You looked smaller from the rooftops!” André growled as he placed his other hand on his Roller’s handle, pressing down with more force as his foe sidestepped out of the way. He raised his Roller to his right as Maverink struck back with his own blade, blocking the strike, pushing back in response to try and throw the nimble opponent off balance.

           The two continued to duel, striking and blocking back and forth as André slowly pushed Maverink back. “I’m impressed!” Maverink commended André as he stopped the Roller over his head once more, “For someone who does this for sport, you can hold your own in a real fight. Though I must say, your size seems to make up for your deficiencies.” The corner of André’s mouth curled into a smile as he tried to keep Maverink pinned down.

           “No,” he murmured, “It’s my teammates that make up for it.”

           Maverink suddenly felt a sharp strike to the back of his head, stunning him long enough for André to raise his Roller and swing it into his opponent’s side, sending the Octoling sprawling a few feet away further into the alley and disarming him of his blade. Standing just out of the Octoling’s haphazard flight path, her Splatling held slightly awkwardly, was Marjani, having just hit Maverink with it from behind.

           Maverink shook his head and tried to ignore the throbbing pain as he reached for his now-deactivated saber a short distance from where he’d landed. Before he could grab it, however, he felt a powerful grip on his right leg and suddenly found himself being pulled away from the saber and into the air. Now dangling upside-down, he looked upward to André, who had him by the leg in his off hand while he continued to grip his Roller in his right.

           “Enough!” bellowed André, “No more! I’ve got half a mind to splat your head against the wall there!” Maverink simply smiled. “I’m surprised you’ve even got half a mind at all, you giant oaf! Now put me down!” he retorted, causing the latter to growl angrily. “Who are you? Why are you chasin’ after Amber?!” asked Marjani as Amber and Felicity rejoined their teammates. “‘Amber’,” Maverink scoffed, “The girl you think is ‘Amber’ isn’t who she says she–”

           “–Maverink, no!” shouted Amber suddenly, interrupting her brother and pointing her Octoshot in his face. Maverink smirked and shook his head. “…Looks like you led me right into your cunning little trap. I should’ve figured when you left behind such an obvious ink trail that it was so your lackeys here could find the both of us and help you outnumber me. And now… what, are you going to kill me, your own flesh and blood, to try and keep your secret?” he asked rhetorically, grinning, “…Perhaps you’re a better soldier than I thought.”

           Amber hesitated, her hand shaking as her teammates watched her in stunned silence. “Well, go on, then, splat me and keep on hiding,” Maverink goaded her mockingly, “The Council will send more when my reports stop. And those who follow won’t be nearly as… talkative as me.” Amber took a deep breath and sighed before letting her arm drop to her side. “…Put him down, André,” she ordered quietly. Looking down at his captive, André quietly hesitated for a moment before following his captain’s orders.

           Maverink stood back up and dusted himself off, now surprisingly indifferent at the situation. “Well, now that the melodramatic banter is over and you’ve got me at your mercy, I’d like to request parley,” he mused rather nonchalantly. “Uh, we don’t exactly have herbs in our pockets, weirdo,” Marjani replied in confusion, “Not that kind, anyway.” “You’re thinking of ‘parsley,’ Marjie,” Felicity corrected her, “He wants to talk.”

           “And here I thought a term like that would be foreign to… squids such as yourselves,” Maverink responded with surprise. With the four teammates watching him, he walked over to his saber and picked it up, walking back to them and holding it out to Felicity. “If you don’t mind, darling, could you hold onto my sword for me while your captain and I negotiate?” he asked. Felicity warily took the weapon in her hand. “What for?” she questioned him.

           “So that we know he’s not going to attack again,” explained André. “Exactly,” Maverink confirmed calmly, “I may be resourceful, but even I know I wouldn’t be able to get out of that one with everything I came for.” Marjani crossed her arms, her brow furrowed in irritation. “What are you here for, anyway?” she asked. “I’ll leave the explanation of that to your captain…” responded Maverink, turning away as Amber walked up to him, “…Just as soon as she’s finished explaining it to me.”

           The two siblings walked a short distance, out of the others’ earshot, into the end of the alleyway where the ink they’d splattered on the wall was already dissolving. “…You were gambling just now, weren’t you?” Amber asked softly as they were walking. “Hm?” Maverink hummed, pretending not to know what she meant as he avoided looking at her. “When you said I’d be a better soldier if I shot you to protect my secret, even though they already know now,” continued Amber, “You knew that’s the last thing I want, so you used it against me, to keep me from going through with it.”

           “…I suppose I did, yes,” replied Maverink after a thoughtful pause, “Though it was more of a white flag on my part, in a way; I don’t believe you’d have done it either way.” “You already know why I don’t want to leave, don’t you?” asked Amber quietly. Maverink sighed and nodded slowly, knowing that his sister was right. “…You never did have the heart for war,” he acquiesced. “Lack of heart,” Amber corrected him. “Yes, lack. That’s what I meant, of course…” Maverink murmured. He turned to his sister, looking her in the eye, standing squarely with his arms folded behind his back.

           “Mimi, when your dead drops stopped, I feared the worst. I didn’t want to believe you had gone AWOL on us, but the Council insisted you were too good to have been found out and captured, even as just a lieutenant. After all, they did originally intend for your mission to be a bit of a test, to see if you were ready for promotion,” he explained, “They didn’t just send me in; I volunteered to be the one to look for you. They thought it was because I would have the best chance of recognizing you. I know you can tell it wasn’t just that.”

           Amber nodded, a lump forming in her throat. “I know I don’t always seem like I care, but I’ve been worried sick about you,” Maverink continued, his eyes softening as Amber quietly realized just how much he looked like their father, “I had to know for myself. And if you’re set on staying here, I’m the only one who… who would let you.” Amber continued to nod as she finally lost control of her emotions and began crying, the tears flowing freely as she pulled herself into her brother’s embrace.

           “I am so sorry that it came to this, Mimi. I should never have drawn my weapon on you. It just… hurts to know that you don’t want to come home, that you’ve made a better life for yourself somewhere else. And that you didn’t find another way to tell me. You’re all I have left of Mother and Father…” Maverink consoled her, “But if things are better for you here – if you’re sure you want to stay – I’ll hide this from the Council as best as I can. I’ll keep telling them that I haven’t found you until they terminate the mission and call me back.”

           Amber pulled herself away from her brother, wiping her eyes on her hoodie’s sleeve. “Thank you…” she whispered, “…Inky.” Maverink chuckled, putting his hands on his younger sister’s shoulders as he looked down into her green eyes. “It’s been too long since the last time I heard you call me that,” he quipped, “The more things change, hm?” Amber smiled as her brother turned his gaze up the alley to her teammates, who were quietly conversing among themselves while glancing over to the two siblings to make sure Maverink wasn’t going to try anything.

           “You’ve got quite a team with you here,” Maverink continued, “They seem to be downright misfits, and they’re… well, a little rough around the edges, but it looks like you’ve been whipping them into shape quite well, Captain…” Amber shook her head. “I like ‘em the way they are,” she retorted. “They’re not like your old platoon, are they?” asked Maverink. “Couldn’t be more different,” Amber confirmed, nodding.

           “They respect you. They trust you. They’re loyal to you. And they’ve got your back when you need them,” Maverink continued, “You’re right; your old squad wasn’t like that at all. But…” His voice trailed off as Amber looked up to him. “But… what?” she asked. “Can you say you’ve earned it?” Maverink inquired, looking down to his sister. Amber broke eye contact and hung her head glumly. “You have been lying to them about who you are, after all,” added Maverink, “Who is it they really trust? ‘Amber?’ Or Mimi?”

           Amber looked back up, toward her teammates, and began to take a step forward when Maverink put his hand on her shoulder, causing her to look back at him once more. “Earn that trust. Earn their loyalty,” he concluded, “I’ll stick around for a while to keep an eye on you. Leave a dead drop at the usual place if you need something. Or if you just want to talk again. I’ll come let you know when they call me back to the valley.”

           Amber nodded again as Maverink stepped past her and up to Felicity, who returned his Fountain Saber to him. He pressed the button on the end of it, reactivating the blade, and aimed it at the alley wall, spraying his purple ink upwards in a trail. Before he transformed into his octopus form, he looked back at his sister one last time, giving her a sad smile and a weak nod that she reciprocated.

           Maverink dove into his ink and swam up the wall and away as the others watched. Amber turned away from the Outcasts, fighting the urge to put her hoodie up to hide her eyes from them, even knowing they had already seen them, as she made her way back over to the end of the alley where her Tinted Shades still laid. She knelt down to pick them up and sighed as she decided not to put them back on her face just yet. As she stood back up, she turned back around to face her teammates, who had returned their ink colors to normal with Maverink gone.

           “I… guess I’ve got some explaining to do, huh?”

             “So, let me see if I’ve got this all straight,” André started as he and the other three Outcasts all sat together back at Amber’s apartment, “Your real name is ‘Miriam Stiles.’ You’re actually an Octoling soldier. That guy, ‘Maverink,’ was your older brother. And you’ve been hiding out here in Inkopolis for almost a year now as ‘Amber Blaine,’ trying to keep people from even learning that last name so that they don’t find out that there is no ‘Blaine’ family.”

           “That’s… the gist of it, yeah,” confirmed Amber, fiddling with her Tinted Shades as she continued to resist the urge to put them back on her face, consciously reminding herself that it was now pointless, at least in front of her teammates. “I don’t get it,” grumbled Marjani, “Why hide it like that? It’s not like Octolings are rare around here.” Felicity nodded. “Marjie’s right,” she agreed, “I mean, there are some racist people, but you’ve got us to back you up.”

           Amber shook her head. “It’s not the Inklings here in the city I’m worried about,” she answered, “The Octarian Council of Admirals is looking for me. That’s why they sent my brother here last summer. He’s been looking for me since then. Officially, I went AWOL. I’m a deserter, and they probably plan to court-martial me and lock me up back home in Octo Valley if they find out where I am. I doubt even my brother could convince them to let me just quit the military and keep living here. Commander Haliphron might’ve been able to vouch for me, but…”

           “Who’s Commander Haliphron?” asked Marjani. “Septimus Haliphron, the man who raised me after my parents were KIA; he had been in a platoon with both of them when they were younger. He was practically the right-hand man of the Grand Admiral, Dofleini Julius Octavio. They called him the ‘Seven-Armed Samurai’ because of how he’d wield his Roller with one hand and have his other arm slung up in his robes,” explained Amber, “He took me in when I was just six and raised me and my brother to join the military like our parents had. But after what happened to them, the idea just… terrified me.”

           “Did… did something happen to him?” asked Felicity hesitantly. “…Yeah,” Amber admitted after a quiet moment, “He… I just found out from Maverink earlier that he was KIA around the same time that I went into hiding.” “…Sorry to hear that, Captain,” added André. “Yeah, I-I haven’t exactly been keeping up with what’s been going on in Octo Valley since then,” replied Amber, putting her head in her hands and sighing, “Today’s… kinda been a lot to process. I’d hoped they’d just forget about me, some nobody, but… it seems like I’m more valuable to them than that.”

           “What for?” asked Marjani, “Er, uh, not that you’re, uh… not valuable or anythin’.” Amber looked up at the three. “Because of what I am,” she explained, “I’m not just any old soldier. I’m a mimic Octoling. My family – the Stiles family, that is – we’re a long line of mimics, capable of blending in with natural camouflaging abilities that other Octolings don’t have. It’s part of why they had me skip the rank of ensign and made me a lieutenant right out of the academy. And my brother is officially a captain, a rank above me, but he gets sent on solo missions more often than not because of his specialties.”

           André nodded with a quiet, gravelly grunt in realization. “Explains my last question,” he murmured. “What do you mean?” asked Amber. “You said earlier that you were the one who rescued Felicity from her dad,” replied André, “But the Octoling she described looked nothing like you. White-and-brown-striped Octoling tentacles is a pretty stark contrast from an Inkling in yellow.” Amber blinked a few times as she realized that she hadn’t completely shown her true appearance to her teammates.

           She stood up. “Y-you’re right,” she stammered, “Here, I’ll… let me show you guys what I really look like. I’ve had to maintain this look for a while, I really only let it loose when I fall asleep and the doors are locked. Maverink trained me pretty well to use our family’s abilities for extended periods of time.” She closed her eyes and breathed deeply as the others watched, relaxing her tentacles consciously for the first time in months.

           The plump ends of her two elongated tentacles slimmed down and curled upward as the muscles shifted and redistributed their mass further upward onto her head, and a series of visible suckers appeared along them. The two shorter tentacles on the back of her neck unfolded from their imitation of the shape of four short tentacles, draping down to their full length and revealing themselves as much longer, though less numerous than they had previously appeared. Finally, her familiar yellow coloration faded away, revealing the telltale striped pattern that Felicity had described.

           “Whoa…” murmured Felicity as the three all leaned forward in surprise. “That’s… a big difference,” added André. “Dude!” exclaimed Marjani loudly as she sprang to her feet, “That looks awesome!” Amber tried not to blush as Marjani rushed up to her and took one of the tentacles in her hands. “Man, that’s crazy! Why would they want you to hide that?” Marjani’s jaw dropped as the fawned over the pattern, “You think I can get somethin’ like this done on mine, like, with tattoos or some shit?”

           “Language, Marjie,” murmured Felicity. “I really wouldn’t recommend trying,” added André, “Getting your tentacles tattooed probably isn’t a good idea.” Marjani backed off in a huff, crossing her arms as Felicity walked up to Amber before taking the captain’s hand in between hers. “I guess I need to thank you,” she murmured quietly, “For that night… with my dad.” “Y-yeah,” stuttered Amber, “Listen, about that… the police are trying to find me after what happened. Officially, it’s still an open case; I trespassed to draw attention and then assaulted your dad. A-and now that you know that it was me… I need to ask you–”

           “–Don’t,” interrupted Felicity quietly as she shook her head, “Between you and me, I… I had my suspicions when I remembered that you use an Octoshot and hide your eyes all the time.” “Y-you figured it out?” asked Amber, “Wh-why didn’t you say anything?” “Because I know what it’s like to keep a secret like that,” whispered Felicity, “…And how horrible it feels when you learn that someone figured it out, and puts you on the spot about it.”

           Amber sighed and smiled. “Thanks, Felicity,” she said gratefully, turning to the other two, “C-can I trust you two not to let all of this leave this room?” Marjani rolled her eyes, scoffed, and smirked. “Hey, come on, have a little faith, wouldja, Cap?” she asked, holding up her hand as if swearing an oath, “Scout’s honor.” “André?” asked Amber. “Don’t even need to ask,” André assured her, “You’re my captain. I’m not betraying your trust like that, especially not after you risked everything to protect Felicity.”

           “Thanks, guys,” replied Amber, sighing again, “This… means a lot. I… I don’t know how things are going to turn out from here. I guess I just have to hope the Council decides finding me is a lost cause…” “So, what next?” asked Marjani, “Do we just… go back to the way things were?” “I… I guess?” Amber spoke hesitantly, “I know one thing, now more than ever; how much this – you guys, the team, getting to live this life – means to me. It’s not perfect, but if I could have it my way…” She smiled.

           “…I never want this to end.”

 SPLATOON: THE OUTCASTS

EPISODE END

 One Month Later…

             André closed the door to his apartment and sighed, the rumble of his voice filling the room. After a few moments of hesitation, he turned around to face his three teammates: Amber was sitting backwards in his desk chair, leaning forward with her arms folded atop the chair’s back as she watched her second-in-command intently. Felicity was on the edge of his bed with her legs dangling off the side, next to Marjani, whose feet were on the floor, as though she was apprehensive to make herself comfortable. “Thanks for coming,” André murmured quietly, before glancing over to Marjani in particular, “…And for being on time.”

           “What’s this all about, anyway?” asked Marjani, “Don’t tell me you’ve got some kinda secret identity, too. Seriously, if I’m the only one of us who isn’t hidin’ their real name, I swear I’m gonna…” Her voice trailed off as she shook her head, failing to think of a way to finish that sentence. André moved into the center of the room, facing the three of them as he stood in front of his couch. “No, I’m definitely who I say I am,” he reassured her, “I called you guys here for a different reason. With Amber and Felicity’s secrets coming out these past few months, it’s had me thinking about my own.”

           André sat down on his couch, hanging his head slightly and avoiding eye contact. “I know I’ve… dodged the questions a lot around you guys, but we’ve known each other for a while now, and I think you all deserve to know,” he continued, pausing for a few moments before looking up to the three once more, “I wanted to tell you sooner, but I wasn’t sure we were going to last as a team. But as my teammates, you should know the whole story, and why I kept quiet on it all.” He breathed deeply again as he prepared himself for the tale he had to tell.

           Felicity yawned as she finally made her way up the path to her condo, opening the unlocked door on arrival and walking inside with a smile. The Outcasts had just had a late-day match and gone out for dinner together afterward. Though the match had been a landslide victory for their opponents, the Outcasts were, for the most part, trying to remain positive about their continued streak of losses, which had remained rather consistent since the beginning of the season.

           It had been about five months since they had first met each other, and a lot had happened since then: They had met André’s former teammates, Spice Splat, who had made rivals of themselves for the Outcasts, putting the newer team to shame repeatedly throughout the season, yet always pushing them to get better. Marjani temporarily quit the Outcasts following an argument with Amber, the captain, before the two apologized to each other and she was accepted back into the team.

           And around a month ago, just before the Splatfest that had provided the Outcasts with some much-needed camaraderie, Felicity herself had taken the spotlight when André stumbled upon her greatest secret: her true identity as Felix O’Bryne, a revelation that took the team a little getting used to afterward. Although Marjani still didn’t quite know how to handle Felicity knowing “she” had really been a “he” all along, Amber and André had adjusted rather quickly as if nothing had really changed.

           “I’m home, Mom!” Felicity greeted her mother, smiling as she closed the door behind her. Although her mother didn’t immediately respond, she could hear her speaking in the living room. “Ah, sorry, I’ve got to go, Felix is home,” she overheard, her smile suddenly fading in response, “…Yes, I’ll talk to him about it.” She set her Squiffer’s bag down next to the front door and kicked her shoes off her feet before walking down the hallway and into the living room, just as her mother hung up her cell phone.

           “…Mom?” she asked, “Who was that?” Ms. Quinn briefly looked over to Felicity before her eyes darted away guiltily. “…Mom?” Felicity repeated, “…Who were you on the phone with just now? You called me ‘Felix’ to them, so it’s someone who knows me, right…?” Ms. Quinn stood up and breathed deeply, looking her child in the eye and composing yourself. “That… it was your father,” she admitted. Felicity furrowed her brow in surprise and anger. “Mom!” she shouted, “We– we’re supposed to be– how long?!”

           “Sweetie, please,” interjected Ms. Quinn calmly. Felicity quieted down, though not without adding a disconcerted pout to her expression. “He first called a few days after the Splatfest last month,” continued Ms. Quinn, “We’ve just been talking for a few weeks, staying in contact. It’s… it’s just been a while.” “Mom, we…” Felicity started, trying not to speak too harshly, “We were supposed to be done with this…”

           Ms. Quinn took a few steps forward and knelt down to put her left hand on Felicity’s shoulder while the latter lowered her head. “I know, honey,” she whispered, “I’m sorry. I should have told you sooner.” Felicity sighed as her mother moved her hand to her cheek. “Your father misses you, sweetie,” continued Ms. Quinn, “It’s been a whole year that he hasn’t seen you. He misses being a part of your life.”

           “I don’t want Dad in my life…” muttered Felicity, glancing up to her mother’s eyes dejectedly. “I know, sweetie,” replied Ms. Quinn, sighing, “…But it’s… it’s just a little more complicated than that.” “It shouldn’t have to be,” argued Felicity. Ms. Quinn was silent as she contemplated how best to respond. “I know you and your father didn’t get along as well as you should have,” she continued, “But… he’s not some big, bad boogie man. I married him in the first place for a reason. Things got… difficult… but I believe that the man I fell in love with is still in there somewhere.”

           Felicity sighed, putting her hand over her mother’s lightly. “Yeah…” she said, “I just… I don’t know. I know it’s not right to want him gone forever, but…” “It’s hard,” replied Ms. Quinn, nodding tearfully in understanding, “But… we’ve got a chance to maybe… I don’t know, patch things up with him, at least a little.” She smiled weakly, as if she was worried that any slight change in her behavior would upset Felicity again. “What do you mean?” asked Felicity, raising her eyebrow.

           “Your father is… well, he’s going to be in town tomorrow,” replied Ms. Quinn, caressing Felicity’s cheek lightly with her thumb, “And he… well, he wants to spend some time catching up with you, some bonding time.” Felicity looked down again with an extremely uncertain look on her face, wordlessly betraying her feelings on the matter. “It’s alright if you don’t want to, sweetie,” continued Ms. Quinn, “I’ll just call him back and let him know.”

           Felicity was quiet for a few moments before closing her eyes and sighing deeply. “Alright,” she murmured, “I’ll go.” “You’re okay with it?” asked Ms. Quinn, “Are you sure?” Felicity nodded. “Maybe… I don’t know, maybe things will be different this time…” she said, “Dad’s not perfect but… no one is. I think I’ve kinda been learning that from my teammates. Maybe if I just give him another chance…”

           Ms. Quinn stood up, nodding. “I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do, sweetie,” she assured Felicity quietly. “No, I… I think I should do this,” maintained Felicity, “I might not get a chance like this again if I pass this up.” “…Okay,” Ms. Quinn conceded, “If you’re okay with spending tomorrow with him… I just have one thing I want to ask of you.” Felicity looked up at her mother. “…Yeah?” she asked. “Could you… would you be alright going out as ‘Felix’ instead of ‘Felicity?’” asked Ms. Quinn.

           Felicity’s expression fell again and she looked back down at her shoes. “I… I probably should, huh?” she admitted, “…Dad’s probably not ready to… meet ‘Felicity’ yet, I bet.” “He… he might never be, honey,” replied Ms. Quinn solemnly. Felicity sighed again. “I… yeah, I guess,” she muttered, “Yeah, okay.” “Thank you, sweetie,” replied Ms. Quinn, kneeling down again to embrace Felicity. Felicity buried her head in her mother’s shoulder, reciprocating the hug.

           “Did you and your friends already have dinner?” asked Ms. Quinn, standing back up again as the two separated, “I can make you something if you’re hungry.” “We already went out,” replied Felicity, “We were all pretty hungry after the match.” “Oh, right, the match!” exclaimed Ms. Quinn, “How did it go?” Felicity sighed. “We lost again,” she murmured, her voice filled with resignation, as though she’d anticipated the result from the start. “Aw, I’m sorry, sweetie,” Ms. Quinn consoled her.

           “We did better than usual, though,” replied Felicity, “Amber’s getting a lot better at thinking on the fly, and Marjani’s learning not to get herself splatted all the time.” She began walking past her mother, toward the spiral staircase leading to the second floor of the apartment. “I hope you win the next one,” replied Ms. Quinn, unsure of what else to add. “Yeah,” replied Felicity, starting up the stairs, “I’m gonna take a shower and go to bed soon.”

           “I’ll bet you’re exhausted,” replied Ms. Quinn, “Go ahead and get some sleep.” As Felicity reached the top of the steps, she smiled at her mother from the loft. “Night, Mom,” she said quietly. “Good night, sweetie,” replied Ms. Quinn. Felicity turned away and sighed quietly as she made her way toward her bedroom.

             “…son…”

           Felicity hurried down the hallway to Amber’s apartment, adjusting the strap holding her Squiffer’s bag on her shoulder and nervously increasing her pace. She was running late for a strategy meeting again; she’d let herself get too distracted with getting her makeup just right. She stopped in front of Amber’s door and knocked lightly. “Who is it?” questioned Amber’s voice from inside. “It’s me!” replied Felicity.

           After a few moments, the door to Amber’s apartment swung open, and Amber was standing there. “Hey,” she said simply, stepping aside so Felicity could enter. “Sorry I’m late,” murmured Felicity sheepishly as she entered the room. “Makeup again?” she heard, seeing André waiting with his arms crossed, “Ever thought about trying a simpler look?” She blushed and took her bag off her shoulder, leaning it against Amber’s bed.

           “…I… a…”

           “We were about to start without you,” added another voice, and Felicity turned to her left, spotting Marjani rolling her eyes with an annoyed look on her face, “Come on, let’s get this over with.” Felicity sat down on the edge of Amber’s bed. “So, our next match is with Team Sugar Squids,” Amber started. “Wait, who?” asked Felicity, “I’ve never heard of–” “–Shh,” interrupted Amber, “So, like I was saying, we’re up against Spice Splat in the next–”

           “–Wait, didn’t you just say we’re up against Sugar Squids?” asked Felicity. “Will you stop interrupting me?!” snapped Amber, “Geez, you’re a handful.” Felicity rose to her feet. “What’s that supposed to mean?!” she questioned angrily, “What’s wrong with you today?!” “You heard her, cupcake,” replied Marjani as Amber turned around and took off her Tinted Shades, pinching the bridge of her nose.

           “…raised…”

           “Quit interrupting the captain,” added André, “This is an important match.” “Yeah, just shut up already, would you, Felix?” Marjani interjected. “Marjani!” Felicity protested. “Just sit down and listen!” continued Amber, turning back around. Felicity nearly jumped as she saw Amber’s eyes, stark-white and completely devoid of irises.

           “You-your eyes!” she stuttered, falling back on the bed. “What about ‘em?” asked Amber, taking a step forward, “Cod, you’re a mess. I’m starting to think it wasn’t a good idea to bring you onto this team.” Marjani took a few steps forward with a snarl on her face. “Yeah, if we’d known you were a fuckin’ transvestite from the start, we’d never have let you join!” she growled.

           “…I raised…”

           Felicity glanced back and forth between her two teammates, doing everything in her power to not cry as she tried to process what was going on. She looked over to André, her voice caught in her throat, as if she was pleading for support. André simply shook his head and turned away. “You’re on your own, freak,” he rumbled.

           “Wha-what’s going on?!” Felicity stammered as Amber and Marjani closed in on her. “Isn’t it obvious?” sneered Marjani. “We don’t want you on this team anymore,” added Amber, “It was a mistake to let you join. You can’t carry your own weight in Turf War. You won’t just be quiet and listen to us. And you’re always fussing over your makeup – which you shouldn’t even be wearing, since you’re just a boy, after all.”

           “…a son…”

           “Stop!” shouted Felicity, clutching her head as she burst into tears. “Aww, did we hurt your feelings?” scoffed Marjani, “What kind of boy cries, anyway?” “Please, stop it!” wailed Felicity, before leaping to her feet and running over to the door. She grabbed the knob and began to yank on it, trying to get the door to open. “Come on, just man up and face your problems, would you?” insisted Amber, “Stop running away from everything!”

           “…I raised… a son…”

           Felicity turned back to her teammates, who were all standing with their arms crossed and disgusted scowls on their faces. “Quit playing dress-up and grow up already,” sneered Marjani. “You can’t just pretend you’re something that you’re not,” added Amber. “You’ll understand when you’re older,” added André. Felicity simply shrank back against the door and slid to the floor, shielding her face from the others and trying to halt her crying.

           “I raised a son!”

           Felix bolted awake on his bed, sputtering and gasping for air. He could still feel the hot sting of tears on his cheeks as he sat up, burying his face in his hands as he continued to shake and cry softly. He hugged himself as he glanced over to his clock. It was 7:58, a mere two minutes before the alarm he’d set was supposed to go off; just his luck.

           Felix sighed as he swung his legs over his bed, trying to make sure he’d stopped shaking. He reached over to turn his alarm off before it even rang, stepping out of his bed tiredly and walking over to the full-length mirror behind his bedroom door. He groggily rubbed his eyes before glancing up and down at his reflection and the pink squid-patterned pajamas he was wearing. He sighed once more as he began unbuttoning the shirt, beginning his process of getting ready for the day ahead.

             Felix adjusted his Zekko-brand Backwards Cap as he walked out of the bathroom. His tentacles, grown long for the sake of his more frequent feminine style, were tucked neatly and comfortably beneath it, concealing their true length completely. His Camo Layered LS was fitting just a little tightly, though it was to be expected as he didn’t wear it particularly often. The laces on his Mawcasin shoes were likewise somewhat tight; it had been some time since Felix had last worn them, and he was having trouble readjusting.

           Felix sighed as he rubbed his eyes again. His shower had woken him up a little more, but he was still sleepy; it had taken some time for him to fall asleep the night before, and the nightmare he’d had afterward didn’t help. He could feel the bags under his eyes; bags that he’d normally be able to mask with his makeup, but not today.

           As Felix made his way down the staircase, he breathed deeply and smelled his mother’s cooking. “Morning, Mom,” he greeted her, reaching the ground floor with a smile. “Morning, sweetie,” replied Ms. Quinn from the kitchen. Felix yawned as he sat down at the table, just in time for his mother to set two plates of pancakes out, one for each of them. “Your father’s going to be here soon,” she said gently, sitting down across from Felix as his smile faded.

           “Are you sure you’re okay with it?” she continued. Felix nodded as he picked up his fork to start eating. “I’m not just gonna bail on Dad now,” he contended, “I made a choice, and I’m sticking to it.” Ms. Quinn smiled at her son. “That’s the spirit,” she agreed, smiling, “Just remember to try and see it from his point of view, too. It’s an awkward position for him to be in. I’m sure he wishes things could’ve gone differently, so please don’t be harsh on him.”

           Felix swallowed and nodded again. “I know, Mom,” he replied before taking another bite. Ms. Quinn giggled quietly. Seeing his mother’s serene features calmed Felix; he returned her smile and the two continued to eat in silence. As Felix finished his breakfast, he sighed and stood up. He adjusted his cap again, trying to make absolutely sure his tentacles wouldn’t unexpectedly fall out at any point during the day. “You look fine, sweetie,” Ms. Quinn reassured her son.

           Felix breathed deeply. “I’m just worried I’ll–” he started, before being interrupted by the doorbell. “That’s probably him,” Ms. Quinn remarked, standing up, “He’s early.” As his mother walked out of the kitchen, Felix took another deep breath and followed a short distance behind her. “You ready to go?” she asked, glancing back over her shoulder, “Got your phone and everything?” Felix nodded. “Yep,” he said, nodding. Ms. Quinn placed her hand on the knob and turned it slowly, opening the door and standing in the way as she did.

           Standing on the other side of the door was a tall, thin man wearing a black leather jacket over a button-down plaid shirt and blue denim jeans. A pair of black steel-toed boots poked out from underneath the ends of his pants. His short, dark-green tentacles, tied back at the base of his neck rather than on the top of his head, gleamed in the morning light, though not the two small tentacles on his chin, obscured by the shadow cast by his face. His bright blue eyes were wide with an almost childlike hopefulness, and below those, his prominent cheekbones stuck out, giving his visage a striking, chiseled look.

           “G-good mornin’, Sh-Shelley,” Fingal stammered, “S-sorry I’m so early. I j-just got anxious and didn’t w-want ta be late or nothin’. F-Felix probably isn’t even ready yet, I bet.” Shelley simply stepped aside with a smile, revealing Felix to his father. Fingal’s eyes widened as he sputtered, unable to formulate a sentence at seeing his son again for the first time in a year. “H-hi, Dad,” whispered Felix, taking a few tentative steps forward. Fingal simply put his hand over his mouth and nodded quietly, his eyes beginning to tear up.

           “Cod, l-look at ya,” he stuttered, choking on his own words, “Look at ya… ya’ve grown so much. I missed so much.” Felix nodded as he approached his father, who knelt down and opened his arms. Felix cautiously hugged his father for a few moments, and was swept up in the long-forgotten scent of his cologne. As the two separated, Fingal wiped his eyes before putting his hands on his son’s shoulders. “Cod, look at me,” he sniffled, laughing dryly for a moment, “I promised myself I wasn’t gonna turn inta some kinda blubberin’ mess.”

           He stood back up, keeping one hand on his son’s shoulder as he turned to his ex-wife. “Thank ya for settin’ this up, Shelley,” he said, beaming with a mixture of pride and humility, “Thanks fer lettin’ me see him again.” “Don’t thank me,” insisted Ms. Quinn, “Thank Felix.” Fingal smirked at his son, who reciprocated his father’s smile. “Thanks fer givin’ me a second chance, son,” he repeated thankfully, nodding slowly before his smile dropped, “…Aw, cripes, I didn’t even bother ta ask if yer ready ta go yet. I showed up so early, ya probably haven’t even had a chance ta eat breakfast.”

           “I’m ready, Dad,” replied Felix, shaking his head, “It’s alright, you weren’t too early.” Fingal nodded again, his smile returning. “Alright, then, what are we waitin’ fer?” he asked rhetorically, “Let’s get goin’. The public museum’s gotta new exhibit on the Great Turf War.” “The Great Turf War?” asked Felix as he followed his father through the front door. Ms. Quinn stood in the front door as she watched the two walking to the driveway. “Aye,” replied Fingal, “Apparently someone dug up a buncha lost documents ‘bout the war an’ donated ‘em all ta the museum; ‘The Sunken Scrolls,’ ‘ey call ‘em.”

           He stopped, turning back to Ms. Quinn. “I’ll ‘ave ‘im back ‘fore… what’s yer curfew, son?” he asked. “Midnight,” replied Felix simply. “Midnight? Yer mum’s goin’ easy on ya,” laughed Fingal, “Alright, I’ll ‘ave Felix back ‘fore midnight, Shelley.” Ms. Quinn smiled as the two got into Fingal’s car, continuing to talk about the exhibit. Both of them stopped to wave to her from the front seats before Fingal turned the car on and began to back out of the driveway. Ms. Quinn waved back as Fingal’s car pulled away, breathing deeply and sighing as it drove out of her view.

           As she turned to head back inside, something caught her attention just out of the corner of her eye, and she stopped to glance and see what it was. She gasped lightly as she spotted Felicity’s teammates, Amber, André, and Marjani heading up the sidewalk toward the apartment. As Marjani said something to André that Ms. Quinn couldn’t quite hear, Amber glanced forward, looking up from her phone – no doubt habitually deleting spam e-mail as Felicity often described – and saw her standing in the doorway.

           “Morning, Ms. Quinn!” she greeted her, waving with a smile. “Good morning, Outcasts,” replied Ms. Quinn quietly, waving back to them. “Is Lissy ready, or do we gotta wait for her?” asked Marjani as the group arrived at the doorstep. “Ready?” asked Ms. Quinn, a puzzled look on her face. “For practice,” André rumbled, “…She forgot to tell you, didn’t she?” “Oh, dear,” murmured Ms. Quinn, covering her mouth momentarily, “She must have completely forgotten.”

           “That’s no problem, we can wait,” Amber reassured her. Ms. Quinn shook her head. “I’m afraid you’re a minute too late,” she continued, “Felicity’s father is in town, so she’s out spending the day with him. They just left for the public museum.” “Her dad…?” asked André, “Mr.… O’Bryne, right?” “Yes,” replied Ms. Quinn simply, her expression falling somewhat. “Was that his car leaving just now?” asked Amber, looking back over her shoulder, “I wondered if that was Felicity… uh, you know…”

           “Has Felicity told you three about… that?” asked Ms. Quinn before getting a look of realization, “Oh, that’s right, she told you before the last Splatfest, didn’t she?” André nodded, crossing his arms. “Does Lissy’s dad know about it?” asked Marjani. “No, I’m afraid not,” replied Ms. Quinn, “He never really approved of Felix wanting to live like that. Mr. O’Bryne had a bit of a conservative upbringing and struggles with being… judgmental sometimes. It was part of what drove a wedge between us.”

           “So…” Amber started, glancing over her shoulder down the road again, a pensive look on her face, “…Is it a good idea for them to be spending the day together, then?” “As long as Felix doesn’t bring it up, it should be alright,” replied Ms. Quinn, “He knows where his father stands and is trying to mend their relationship, so he’ll be conscientious of it, but I still worry.” André nodded again. “Only natural,” he agreed, before adding, “…For a mother to worry, that is.”

           Ms. Quinn sighed. “I’m sorry, you three,” she apologized, “Had I known, I would have asked Mr. O’Bryne to stop by on a different day.” Marjani shrugged. “Eh, if it means I get to go sleep in for another hour or two, it’s fine with me,” she joked. André scoffed. “Or go see Spyke, probably,” he retorted, “You’re about overdue, aren’t you?” “Nah, I took care of that last night,” replied Marjani nonchalantly. “Of course you did,” muttered André, smirking in resignation as he shook his head.

           “Well, thanks anyway, Ms. Quinn,” continued Amber as the group turned to leave, “I’ll get in contact with Felicity later; we’ll reschedule for tomorrow or something.” “Take care, you three,” replied Ms. Quinn warmly as they reached the end of the driveway. She re-entered the condo and closed the door behind her. “Alright, well, I guess that’s a bust,” sighed Marjani. She paused to look back and forth between her two teammates walking in front of her. “What, nothin’ about this bein’ my fault for bein’ late?” she asked, “Not that I’m complainin’, but…?”

           “You’re not worried about Felicity?” asked Amber, glancing back over her shoulder at Marjani. “What’s there to be worried about?” replied the latter, “So she’s spending the day with her dad, what of it?” “Doesn’t sound like they have the best relationship,” countered André, “Can’t really know unless I met him myself, but something just seems off.” “She’ll be fine,” insisted Marjani, “Lissy can take care of herself, right?”

           Amber nodded weakly, a thoughtful look on her face as though she was distracted, stopping and turning to face her teammates, who did the same upon noticing. “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she agreed, “But as for us… I guess we oughta just head home, then?” “You don’t wanna practice anyway?” asked Marjani. “It’s better for us if we’re all there,” replied Amber, “Besides, didn’t you have some sleeping in to do?”

           “Amen to that, Cap,” replied Marjani, stepping between André and Amber to leave, “I’ll catch you guys later. Call me if we’re gonna reschedule for tomorrow.” “See you around,” replied Amber. André simply harrumphed quietly and turned to follow her. “Tomorrow, then,” he grunted, “Take care, Captain.” “Yeah,” Amber echoed, “You, too.” Amber sighed once her teammates were out of earshot and looked back to Felix’s apartment, adjusting her Tinted Shades before turning to head down the sidewalk herself.

             Felix licked his cone of sea-salt caramel ice cream as he and his father made their way out of the ice cream shop, Fingal’s extra treat for his son after dinner, their day at the museum having come to a close. “Alright, so I’m still a bit confused,” Fingal admitted, following his son as he licked his own Irish coffee-flavored dessert down to the cone, “How was it ‘at the war got started in the first place?” Felix swallowed and glanced back over his shoulder. “Rising ocean levels,” he explained, “Land was disappearing and the Inklings and Octarians were running out of room to coexist.”

           “So what was all ‘at ‘bout the… what did ‘ey call it again?” asked Fingal, “‘The Splat Heard ‘Round the World’ or somethin’?” “The first shots fired in the war,” replied Felix, “Tensions were high and both sides brought weapons to a border dispute. Someone fired on the other side before they’d even met each other for negotiations and in the confusion, the first battle broke out.” “An’ ‘en… uh…” Fingal continued, “…‘Ow was it ‘at we won, exactly?”

           “The Octoweapons that had turned the tide of the war in the favor of the Octarians ran on too much power,” replied Felix with a smile, “They had put too much faith in them and wasted all their resources on it. The scrolls called it a ‘plug being pulled,’ but experts say that was probably just a turn of phrase.” “‘At’s my boy,” Fingal praised his son proudly through the last mouthful of his cone before swallowing, “Ya pay better attention ‘an yer old man.” “One of us had to,” retorted Felix, “You were practically falling asleep back at the museum.”

           “Aye, I suppose I was,” agreed Fingal, “I don’t ‘ave ‘at youthful energy anymore.” Felix laughed quietly. “I thought you were a history buff, Dad,” he pointed out, “What happened to that?” “Well, ya get old like me, ya start ta ferget things that ain’t as important in the day-ta-day,” sighed Fingal, “I’ve spent too much time prioritizin’ an’–”

           As Felix rounded a corner just ahead of Fingal, he suddenly bumped into a passerby, stumbling back and landing hard on the sidewalk as his ice cream tumbled forward out of his hand and onto the pedestrian’s white leather jacket. “Oomph!” he grunted as he landed. “Oh, fuh cod’s sake!” shouted the other party, “As if it weren’t bad enough dat Toxink damn near just wiped da floor wid us…!” Felix looked up to the other boy as he realized that he recognized the distinctive voice of Butch Fontina.

           “Now I gotta get dis dry-cleaned again…” muttered Butch as he glared down to Felix, his gray eyes peering over the tops of his aviators, “Who’s gonna pay fuh dat, huh, squirt?!” He began reaching down as if to grab Felix by the shirt. “Butch!” shouted another voice behind him as he stopped. Felix could see Caroline and the other members of Butch’s team, the scarlet-tentacled Caroline, the stone-faced Moruga, and the graceful Jolokia, catching up with him. “I told you to slow down,” Caroline chided her teammate, “Don’t you dare hurt that kid.”

           “I know, Boss, I was just… helpin’ him up,” replied Butch. “Oh, sure ya were!” bellowed Fingal as he shooed the teen away from Felix. He stepped behind Felix and grabbed him by his arms, lifting him back onto his feet. “Ya alright, son?” he asked. “Y-yeah,” stammered Felix, “S-sorry…” “Don’t apologize, tell the lad off,” replied Fingal quietly, “‘E didn’t apologize ta you, now did ‘e?” “D-dad, it’s f-fine, it was just a-an accident,” stuttered Felix, facing his father to avoid looking at the team, praying that none of them recognized him as one of the Outcasts.

           “That’s yer mother talkin’, boy. Now come on, son, yer an O’Bryne, man up an’ tell ‘im what fer,” growled Fingal insistently, “‘E knocked ya square on yer arse, an’ I bet it was on purpose ta look cool in fronna his friends here.” At this comment, Butch’s brow furrowed and his mouth curled into a distinct snarl. He took a step forward, pointing at Fingal. “Do youse have any idea who I am, old man?” he asked angrily. “Butch, that’s enough!” snapped Caroline.

           Fingal stepped out in front of Felix and stared down Butch. “Butch, eh? That’s not yer real name, is it? Come on, lad, what’s yer real name?” he asked, crossing his arms. Butch continued to glower menacingly at the taller Inkling, not budging from his position. “Basil. Fontina,” he growled clearly, enunciating every syllable of his name. “Butch, just let it go,” Jolokia finally spoke up forcefully. Fingal nodded knowingly and smirked. “A Fontina, eh?” he questioned mockingly, “I know yer kind, struttin’ ‘round like ya think ya own the damn city.”

           “Dad, please, just stop,” muttered Felix in embarrassment, though trying to keep himself hidden behind his father, “They’re a famous Turf War team.” Fingal didn’t break his eye contact with Butch and continued. “I don’t care who they are, ‘at doesn’t give ‘em the right ta act like they’re bedder ‘an you,” he continued unflinchingly before resuming his feud with Butch, “Ya know, when I was yer age, everyone knew the Fontina Brudders. ‘Ey thought ‘ey was hot shit, too, but look what ‘appened ta ‘em… One of ‘em, anyway.”

           Caroline’s eyes widened. “Moruga!” she shouted, glancing over to her second-in-command, who was already on the move, lunging forward to grab Butch’s left shoulder and right wrist before he could pounce on Fingal. “Grrraahhh!” Butch shouted angrily just as Moruga caught him, before realizing he’d been stopped and letting Moruga restrain him, “Don’t you dare talk about him like dat!” As Moruga held onto the seething Butch while the latter tried to calm himself, Caroline stepped forward between her teammates and the haughty Fingal.

           “Mr. O’Bryne, was it?” asked Caroline sharply, “With all due respect, I think it’s time we both just walk away.” Fingal glanced back and forth between Butch, who was now composed enough for Moruga to release him, and Caroline, before turning to look back and Felix and seeing how embarrassed his son was by his behavior. Looking back to Spice Splat, he nodded glumly. “…Aye, sorry, I let ‘at get outta hand, kids,” he agreed, clearing his throat, “I apologize if I’ve… struck a nerve. Just… tryin’ ta look out fer my boy here.”

           Fingal turned around and placed his hand on Felix’s shoulder, guiding him away from Spice Splat as Butch tried to wipe the ice cream off of his jacket. “Sorry ‘bout that, son,” Fingal whispered, “Ya want me ta get ya another?” “Nah, it’s okay, Dad,” replied Felix, “Let’s just… let’s go.” “A-alright,” replied Fingal somewhat disappointedly, “There’s one more place I wanted ta take ya today, someplace special. Ya up for it?”

           “Sure,” Felix replied, “Where is it?” Fingal smirked. “It’s a surprise,” he teased, “I’ll explain when we get there, alright?” Felix raised an eyebrow at his father, taken aback by the secrecy. “O-okay?” he stuttered. Fingal nodded. “Trust me, ya won’t regret it,” he continued, “Come on, let’s get ta the car.” Felix glanced back over his shoulder at the members of Spice Splat, who were still stopped where they had been a minute earlier. He breathed a sigh of relief to see they weren’t following behind and that none of them had seemed to recognize him before turning back forward and continuing to walk alongside his father.

             Felix tried to avoid panting as he and his father climbed upward, nearing the top of a grassy hill. “Almost there, son,” Fingal encouraged him, looking back over his shoulder to Felix, “Ya doin’ alright? Not too winded or nothin’?” “I’m okay,” Felix reassured his father, “But where is this? What’s here?” “You’ll see,” replied Fingal as the two reached the top, where a solitary tree awaited them. Felix looked around, taking in the view of downtown Inkopolis that now laid before him.

           “Nice view, eh?” asked Fingal, sitting down and leaning against the tree with a quiet grunt. “Yeah…” marveled Felix, “…Is… is that what you wanted me to see? This view?” “A little more ‘an ‘at,” replied Fingal, “Come on, lad, have a seat.” Felix sat down next to his father against the thick trunk of the lone tree, scanning the orange-tinted city as the sun began to set behind it.

           “Yer mum and I used to come up ‘ere when we were younger,” reminisced Fingal, “We’d ‘ave picnics ‘ere.” He laughed to himself as Felix turned to grin at his father. “It… heh,” chuckled Fingal, “It sounds so silly now ‘at I say it out loud. I mean, can ya imagine? Yer mum and me – me especially – up here, high school sweethearts, eatin’ bloody… heheh, I don’t even remember what we’d eat. It was always ‘er cookin’, ‘course; ya know I’m no good at it.”

           Felix laughed quietly at the quip as he continued to listen. “Actually, ya know, I wonder if…” Fingal craned his neck to look upward and behind himself, “Well, would ya look at ‘at. We ‘ad a claim ta this spot, we did. It’s ‘igher up ‘an I remember, but it’s still ‘ere.” Felix looked up the trunk of the tree and, after a moment of searching, spotted a heart shape with the gnarled letters “FO’B + SQ” inside of it etched into the tree. The years had taken their toll on the sharpness of the carving, however, and now it was little more than scar tissue in the bark.

           Fingal sighed. “We couldn’t come up ‘ere as much when we were in university,” he continued, “…An’ ‘en… even less after we got hitched. We thought ‘bout leavin’ ya wid a babysitter an’ comin’ up ‘ere again fer old times’ sake, but we never got to it. We talked ‘bout bringin’ ya fer family picnics when ya were a little older, but… ‘tween my work an’ everythin’ else, it… stopped bein’ a priority.”

           Felix looked away from his dad despondently. “Things… got so complicated,” Fingal reminisced, “I’m… sorry it all went so south, son. I wish it ‘adn’t ended this way. Yer mum an’ I tried so hard ta make it work. There’s no excuse fer bein’ outta yer life fer a year like this.” Felix breathed deeply and sighed himself as the two watched the sun setting behind the buildings. “It’s alright, Dad,” he consoled his father, “Maybe this is… I don’t know, a new beginning? …If we have more days like this, that… wouldn’t be so bad.”

           Fingal turned to Felix and nodded, smiling tearfully. “I’m so glad ta hear ‘at,” he whispered, “Ya’ve grown so much, son.” He put his arm around Felix and pulled his son closer to himself. “Yer more talkative ‘an before, an’ ya’ve matured with ‘ow ya look at things,” he added, “I’m so proud o’ ya. Ya’ve finally become the son I raised. No more o’ ‘at silly girly business ya were always goin’ on ‘bout.” Felix gasped quietly as the sun finally vanished behind the buildings, its fading orange light illuminating the city less and less as the street lights and windows slowly flickered to life, one by one.

           He sighed as he hung his head. “D-dad…” he stammered, swallowing hard as he tried to choke back his fear, “…If we… if this is gonna happen again…” Fingal looked down to Felix. “Hm?” he hummed, still smiling. “…Then… then…” mumbled Felix, “…You need to know.” Fingal furrowed his brow and his smile vanished. “Know… what, son?” he asked, shifting his head slightly in confusion, giving Felix a more sideways look.

           “…I-I…” Felix stuttered, “I-I d-didn’t stop… with that…” “With…?” Fingal looked away from Felix as he slowly realized what his son was talking about, “With… oh…” Felix sighed. “M-Mom… helps me with it…” he mumbled, “…With… with it just being the two of us… she’s been supportive… and… yeah… th-that’s why I’m like this now… because I finally feel like I’m not just hiding a part of myself anymore.”

           Fingal watched the lights in the skyscrapers of Inkopolis turn on, his eyelids drooping slowly. His mouth remained a relatively straight line, though the corners were slightly curled downward. Felix couldn’t bear to look at him and just kept his head down. After what felt like an eternity of silence, Fingal stood up. “Well…” he murmured quietly, “Sunset’s over. Probably ‘bout time ta be gettin’ ya back ‘ome, I reckon.”

           Felix stood up and dusted his pants off wordlessly, his father putting his hands in his pockets and setting off down the hill. He sighed again and followed a short distance behind Fingal, his father not stopping to look back at him all the while. The two remained quiet as Felix looked back one last time to the tree where his parents had once whiled away their hours with each other, before turning forward and keeping his eyes on the path ahead.

             Neither Felix nor his father had said a word since they left the hilltop. Felix sat quietly in the passenger seat of the car as Fingal drove along the highway, with few other cars in sight on the quiet road. Fingal refused to make eye contact with Felix again, and an eerily-familiar, drained look marred his previously-expressive visage. Felix stared out the window, watching as the buildings went by and trying not to think about what he’d done.

           The hypnotic waxing and waning of the street lights as they illuminated the road below them did little to ease the growing sinkhole in his stomach, and was probably making him even more nauseous. Why did he tell his father about his secret? The day had been remarkably perfect up until that moment when he’d decided Fingal needed to know the truth. Felix felt as though his very lungs were filling with his regret, and he breathed as slowly and quietly as possible, as if he were walking on eggshells and the slightest thing could set his father off.

           Finally, he decided he needed to say something. If he was going to try and reconcile with his father, it had to be now, before he got home. “D-Dad,” Felix mumbled. Fingal glanced to his son wordlessly, his quiet gaze acknowledgement enough for Felix to continue. “A-are you… okay?” he asked, still hanging his head. Fingal was quiet and sighed, seemingly unsure of how to answer his son. “I mean… are you…” Felix started again, “Are you… mad at me…? Or disappointed?”

           Fingal again remained silent. “Dad, please,” Felix insisted, “Please, just… answer me…” His father sighed again, his face contorting slightly as he tried to formulate his response. “I…” he started to say, “…I don’t know. Just when I thought ya’d finally outgrown all ‘at…” He sighed again, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “…Ya tell me yer mum’s not just… lettin’ ya do it… but… helpin’ ya with it. I mean… I… I tried ta…” His voice trailed off as Felix waited anxiously.

           “I… tried ta tell her all those times,” continued Fingal, “That I raised… a son. She just… wouldn’t listen, wanted ta indulge ya, coddle ya, let ya play dress-up an’ pretend ta be somethin’ yer not… It was s’posed ta be simple. Why… why couldn’t it…” Fingal began to choke on his own words, tears forming in his eyes. He shook his head as his breathing quickened.

           “D-Dad…” Felix wanted to desperately to try and comfort his father. “Why is it… too much to ask…” Fingal muttered as his knuckles began to turn white, “…For a normal life? Why?” “Da–” Felix started, before being interrupted. “Why, coddamn it?!” Fingal shouted, “I raised a son! Why is that so hard to understand?! Ya were born a boy, why can’t ya just be happy with ‘at?! Why’s it so hard fer ya ta just accept yerself?!”

           Felix shrank back in his seat. He wasn’t sure how to respond to his father’s outburst. “Bloody…” Fingal muttered, “I just…” The two were silent once more as Fingal gripped the wheel, staring straight down the road, unblinking. Felix suddenly felt the car lurch forward as Fingal floored the gas pedal. “D-Dad?!” Felix turned to his father in shock, to which Fingal didn’t respond, simply staring forward as he gritted his teeth, tears intermittently rolling down his cheeks.

           “Dad!” Felix shouted, “What are you doing?!” Fingal continued to accelerate, the street lights flashing through the car’s windows faster and faster as he did. The car’s speedometer climbed higher and higher, mirroring Felix’s heart rate as he grew increasingly frightened. “Dad, slow down!” Felix screamed, “Stop it!” Fingal glanced over to Felix before turning his gaze back to the road, his face now adorned with the same fear as Felix.

           Just as Fingal let his foot off the gas, a sudden resounding thud hit the front end of the car. “Bloody–!” Fingal shouted as he slammed his foot on the brakes, “What the hell?!” Nearly jumping out of his seat at the noise, Felix looked forward, spotting a pair of dark military-style boots on the hood of the car and a hand on the windshield. The slender figure connecting them was obscured in the darkness, though Felix could see some kind of metal plating on their chest and an exposed midriff. Whoever it was, their head was higher than the top of the windshield, preventing him from seeing their face.

           As the car screeched to a halt, the figure jumped off of the hood of the car to the driver’s side. “What the bloody fuckin’–?!” Fingal shouted as he aggressively shifted the car into park, unbuckled his seatbelt, and opened the door to the car. Before he could step out, however, a hand unexpectedly reached in and grabbed him by his shirt, dragging him out of the car in the blink of an eye. “Whaaa!” Fingal yelped as he landed on his knees in front of the figure who’d jumped on his hood.

           “Who the hell–?!” Fingal was interrupted yet again as the figure swung a weapon in their right hand, pistol-whipping him in the head. He fell sideways, dazed by the blow. He groaned as the figure caught his now-limp body, holstering their weapon on their belt, and dragged him to the side of the car. Felix watched wordlessly, unable to process what he was seeing.

           As his mysterious savior stood back up, leaving the passed-out Fingal leaning against the front tire, Felix got a look at their features. Based on their physique and exposed midriff, Felix could now see that his silent deliverer was a female. Four long, slender tentacles, slimming to points rather than the rounded ends usually found on an Inkling’s tentacles, draped from the figure’s head, adorned with a striking white-and-brown striped pattern, with distinctive rows of suckers running down each tentacle.

           Felix recognized the shapes of the tentacles as those of an Octarian, rather than an Inkling, a race of similar cephalopod people who were native to Octo Valley, a fair distance outside the city. While the two races had historically been enemies in the Great Turf War, Octolings weren’t a rarity in Inkopolis itself today. A number of them had taken a liking to the culture of the city and moved there, though some prejudice against them still lingered. This Octoling girl, however, was dressed in a military uniform rather than a casual outfit, with combat boots and protective armor.

           The Octoling girl watched Fingal for a few moments, as if to make sure he wouldn’t reawaken all of a sudden. “What the…?” Felix whispered quietly to himself, his heart pounding out of his chest at what he was seeing. Hearing Felix, the Octoling turned to look at him, allowing him to see the menacing metal visor covering the top half of her face. She locked eyes with Felix for a brief moment that seemed to freeze time itself before beginning to back away from the car, her expression cold and unchanging. “Wait, who are you?!” Felix blurted, unbuckling his seatbelt, “What’s going on?!”

           He quickly opened the passenger side door and hopped out, scrambling around the front end of the car and inadvertently blinding himself with the headlights. As he reached the side where Fingal was now sitting unconscious, he blinked a few times and rubbed his eyes to recover from the sudden brightness to which he’d subjected himself. “Who are you?!” he asked again as he regained his vision. He looked around, trying to make eye contact with the Octoling again, but quickly realized that she had already vanished as quickly as she’d appeared.

           Felix sank to his knees, heart pounding, as he tried to process what had just happened. What was an Octoling doing in Inkopolis in full military gear? Why did she stop the car and knock his father unconscious? What would Fingal have to do with the Octarians in any way? Questions flooded through Felix’s head as he tried to regulate his breathing. Whatever it was that had just taken place, he wasn’t sure whether he felt like hyperventilating, vomiting, passing out, or all three.

           He was shocked back to reality once more by the wailing of a siren, growing louder as a police car pulled up near Fingal’s parked vehicle. As the police parked, Felix’s head lolled in their direction, and he tried to maintain consciousness as two officers clambered out of the car and rushed over to Felix and his father. “What happened here?!” asked the driver, the younger of the two, a well-built man with dark blue tentacles hidden beneath his cap.

           Felix wasn’t sure how to respond, the words catching in his throat. The older officer, his tentacles greying with age, knelt down in front of Felix and placed his hands on his shoulders. “Hey there, son,” he murmured comfortingly, his years of experience audible in the gravel of his voice, “You alright? What happened?” Felix breathed deeply as he made eye contact with the officer and nodded weakly. “You’re okay?” asked the officer, “You’re not hurt?” The younger officer inspected Fingal, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him. “Sir?” he asked, “Sir, are you alright?”

           He placed his fingers on Fingal’s neck for a few moments, feeling for his pulse. “Unconscious,” he declared, “What the hell’s going on here…?” Finally beginning to breathe regularly again and realizing that it was all over – whatever it was that had actually happened – Felix couldn’t stop himself from sobbing, to which the older officer pulled him in to embrace and comfort him. “It’s alright, son,” he murmured, “It’s alright.”

             Felix inhaled slowly, closing his irritated eyes as he fought off the exhaustion from all that had taken place. He was wrapped in a soft gray blanket in the back of the police car, still trying to comprehend this strange incident, and why that Octoling had seemingly attacked his father the way she did. He hugged himself tightly with the blanket, trying to recover from the strange turn events had taken, when he suddenly heard a light tapping on the window.

           He reopened his eyes and looked out the window to see the older of the two police officers standing outside. The officer opened the door to the car and stepped aside so that Felix could see past him. Standing a short distance behind him, having arrived out of Felix’s view from within the car, was his mother, wrapped up in a long coat over her pajamas. At the sight of his mother, Felix leapt out of the car.

           “Mom!” he shouted as the two ran to each other and met in the middle, Shelley falling to her knees to embrace her son as they both started crying. “F-Felix, sweetie…” Ms. Quinn stammered through her sobbing, “I-I’m so sorry…” Felix simply held his mother tightly rather than saying anything. “I never should have pressured you to do this,” continued Ms. Quinn, “Th-this is all my fault…”

           “Mom, no,” muttered Felix into his mother’s shoulder, “I-I agreed to go out with Dad. I… I don’t know… things seemed like they were going so well, that I thought he deserved to know…” Ms. Quinn just rocked back and forth, trembling and nodding slowly. “B-but he… Dad didn’t take it well…” Felix continued quietly, “He… Dad scares me, Mom… I… I-I don’t want to see him again.” Ms. Quinn nodded again.

           “O-okay, sweetie,” she agreed, continuing to nod as she and Felix separated, “I-I’ll… get a restraining order against him. Y-you were right all along. We should have been done with him.” Felix looked over to the police officer. “Wh-where is Dad? I-is he okay?” he asked. “Your father’s being taken to the hospital. You said he was hit in the head, and we don’t know how hard. Once he wakes up and they clear him, we’ll take him down to the station for questioning, and probably slap him with a reckless endangerment charge while we’re at it.”

           “Questioning?” asked Ms. Quinn as she stood back up, “For…?” “Your kid told quite a story, Ms. Quinn,” continued the officer, “Said an Octoling stopped the car by landing on the hood, dragged his dad out of the car, and knocked him out, then split without a word.” “What?!” Ms. Quinn nearly shrieked as she looked down to Felix incredulously, “Felix, tell the truth; what really happened?!” “That is what happened, Mom!” insisted Felix.

           “Now, I’ve seen a lot of weird things in this city,” interjected the officer, the two turning their attention back to him, “But I wouldn’t normally be inclined to believe him.” “‘Normally?’ What do you mean by that?” Ms. Quinn asked. “Your boy wasn’t the only one who saw her,” interjected the younger officer, walking up next to his partner to join the conversation, “We were on our way back from getting a witness statement from someone who said they’d seen an Octoling girl in full uniform loitering about near here.”

           The older officer nodded, crossing his arms. “Apparently, she gave them quite a spook, made them worry that she was going to cause trouble or something, but she was long gone by the time we showed up. We were returning to our patrol when we heard the engine on Mr. O’Bryne’s car revving. We didn’t think it would be related, but when your boy described the same Octoling, we knew he had to be telling the truth,” he explained, “Said she had a white-and-brown striped pattern on her tentacles, same as the other witness. I’ve never heard of anything like that.”

           Ms. Quinn was speechless. “S-so… this Octoling girl…?” she tried to ask, not sure how to phrase her question. “That’s what we’re going to try and figure out next. If she were still around here, we’d have to take her in for assault, but she’s gone and vanished again. Your dad might be our only lead on finding her, or at least about her,” explained the younger officer, “If she attacked him because they’ve got some kind of connection, we’ll have to see if we can learn anything from him about it.”

           “There might be something bigger going on here,” continued the older officer, “The Octarians are a bit… reclusive, though. We’ll try to get in contact with their authorities and see what we can learn about any Octolings matching her description.” “For now, you two should go home and get some sleep,” added the younger officer, “You’ve had a long night. We’ll be in touch if we find anything or need any more information, Ms. Quinn.”

           “Thank you,” said Ms. Quinn, sighing. She put her hand on Felix’s back and turned around, guiding her exhausted son toward her car, parked at the side of the road nearby. She opened the door and Felix clambered in, removing the blanket from his shoulders to buckle his seatbelt before laying it back over himself. Ms. Quinn closed the door and walked around to the driver’s side of the car, opening her own door and sitting down before sighing again.

           “…You want some music on, honey?” she asked as she turned the car on. At Felix’s lack of a response, she turned to look at him, seeing that he’d closed his eyes. “Honey?” she asked, putting her hand lightly on his cheek, again getting no response. She smiled softly as she realized he’d finally run out of energy and fallen asleep. “Come on, sweetie…” she whispered, “…Let’s go home.”

SPLATOON: THE OUTCASTS

EPISODE END

           “Until next time…”

           “Stay fresh!”

           As the broadcast featuring the two pop idols of Inkopolis, the Squid Sisters, came to a close, the large television screen overlooking Inkopolis Plaza switched to an anchorwoman preparing to deliver the morning news. On a nearby rooftop above the plaza, a black-suited Octoling boy with short red tentacles scanned the plaza. “Six months,” he muttered to himself, “Six months since they sent me here, and I’ve found nothing. I’ve scoured this damned city and have nothing to show for it. I taught Miriam too well…” He sighed and sat down on the roof, resting one arm across his knee.

           “At least I’ve gotten used to this heat,” he muttered, “…Food’s better than back home. Wish I could say the same about the living accommodations… At least the metro makes it easy to get around. Have to be more careful about it, though, and that’s a pain…” He sighed as he turned his attention back to the news broadcast.

           “Urchin Underpass was witness to a rather strange car accident last night. According to the police report, father Fingal O’Bryne was driving his daughter, Felicity Quinn, home late at night. After an argument between the two, O’Bryne began to accelerate recklessly when their car was suddenly assaulted by an Octoling wearing full military gear,” stated the anchorwoman. At this, the Octoling boy leaned forward, his eyes widening.

           “According to Felicity, who Turf War fans may remember as the surprise backup dancer from the opening performance of last month’s Splatfest, the Octoling was a teenage girl with a distinct white-and-brown striped pattern to her tentacles. After getting O’Bryne to stop the car and knocking him unconscious, she fled the scene just before police arrived,” continued the anchorwoman, “O’Bryne is currently being held for questioning in regard to a possible connection with this mysterious girl.”

           The young man smiled, his sharp white teeth showing, as the broadcast continued. “Those with any additional information about this Octoling are urged to come forward to the Inkopolis Police Department to provide a statement,” the anchorwoman finished. The Octoling boy began to chuckle quietly. “Heh, heh… As if my prayers have been answered,” he mused, “…I’ve finally got a lead. But it wasn’t because of him, though, was it, Mimi? You came out of hiding to save the girl, didn’t you? Now to figure out…”

           “So Jolokia and I had these guys backed into the corner, right? And Lissy lines up the shot…” Marjani held up her arms as if looking down the sights of a Charger, before mimicking the motion of the recoil of firing, “And I swear, she takes out both of them!” Felicity blushed and giggled. “I keep telling you, Marjie, you got one of them just before I fired,” she insisted. “Sure didn’t seem like it where I was standing,” argued Marjani.

           “You think maybe it was a stray ink bullet from your Splatling?” asked Amber, “Slight shot deviation could account for thinking it wasn’t your ink that did it.” “I’m tellin’ you, Lissy shot through the first guy and hit the second!” Marjani asserted. “Could’ve been Jolokia, too,” added Dodge through a mouthful of donut. “She wasn’t close enough to them!” Marjani maintained, “Why doesn’t anyone fuckin’ believe me?!”

           “Language, Marjie,” Felicity hushed her friend softly. “Chargers can’t do that,” André finally interjected, his arms crossed as his meal was long since finished. “Oh, yeah? And how do you know?” Marjani challenged him, placing one hand on the table, “You weren’t even there, and you use like, the opposite of Chargers!” “Just how they’re designed,” explained André, “Rumor has it Turf War R&D’s working on changing that, but nothing’s on the market yet.”

           “Arrrgh!” a frustrated Marjani finally gave up the argument, going back to eating her meal in defeat. “Aww, cheer up, Marjie,” Felicity tried to console her teammate, putting her hand on Marjani’s shoulder, “I’m sure there’s an explanation for it.” “Yeah, yeah,” muttered Marjani quietly, “I know what I fuckin’ saw…” “So, what about you guys?” asked Dodge, turning to Amber and André, who were seated next to each other, across from their teammates, “Any other good stories?”

           “I dunno, we already told the one where we went up against these two,” replied Amber, “We lost more matches than we won yesterday.” André nodded. “Had a couple of good moments, but I can’t remember them all that well,” he added sternly, furrowing his brow. “How’s that?” asked Dodge, “Last I checked, André, my man, you’ve got a crazy good memory.”

           André shook his head and cleared his throat awkwardly. “It’s, uh… well, there are times where I can’t remember things so well,” he rumbled, “Like when there’s a lot of loud noise, messes with my head, makes it harder to remember anything but the noise later. Still play in Splatfests, but I don’t remember a lot of specifics unless I was focused enough.” “No kiddin’,” replied Dodge with an amazed smirk, “That’s kinda weird.” André simply sighed in response.

           “Is that why you hate loud noises so much?” asked Felicity, concerned with André’s well-being. André nodded. “Yeah, part of it,” he confirmed, “Just bugs me in general.” Marjani perked up as André continued. “Wait!” she blurted suddenly, a little too loudly, causing Felicity to jump slightly in her seat, “Is that why you were complainin’ so much at the opening ceremony?! You wanted to go home because loud noise fucks with your head?”

           “Marjie, language,” whispered Felicity. “I know, I know,” replied Marjani quietly before turning her attention back to her teammate, “Seriously, though?” André rolled his eyes slightly and grimaced. “Yeah,” he sighed, “Nothing special to it.” Marjani grinned. “Shit, and here I thought you were impenetrable,” she quipped. “Hey, now, Sis,” replied Dodge, “You’re the same way; you hate loud noises, too.”

           “It doesn’t make me forget shit, though,” retorted Marjani, “And with you for a brother, ‘course I hate ‘em.” “Hey, my music’s not just loud noise,” argued Dodge. “Oh, yeah?” Marjani smirked as she folded her arms, “Then what about that time you spent four hours playin’ the same damn beat over and over at max volume?” “I-I…!” Dodge’s voice trailed off as he tried and failed to think of a rebuttal to Marjani’s comment, “Th-that was one time! And that’s not even why you hate noise, any–”

           “–Don’t,” Marjani growled loudly, her voice suddenly dropping to an uncharacteristically serious tone, “Don’t bring that up. Not here.” “…Right,” Dodge suddenly grew as solemn as his sister, his expression dropping, “S-sorry, Sis.” The group fell silent as Amber, André, and Felicity exchanged nervous glances. “Y-you know, now that I think about it,” stammered Dodge, before clearing his throat, “I might be able to help you guys with your problem.”

           “How so?” asked André, raising his eyebrow. “Direct confrontation,” replied Dodge, “We get together somewhere, I bring some of the big guns, and we ramp up the volume until we figure out what your limits are. We repeat it as often as we can until you guys can handle more and more volume.” “That’s sounds stupid as hell,” replied Marjani bluntly. “Marjie, language,” Felicity whispered a third time.

           André furrowed his brow pensively. “Stupid, yeah,” he mused, “Stupid enough to work, maybe?” “Aw, c’mon, seriously?” questioned Marjani, “You two can waste your time losin’ your hearin’ tryin’ to do this little therapy thing if you want, but count me out.” “You don’t wanna give it a shot, Sis?” asked Dodge, “At least try it!” Marjani released a grumbling sigh as she rolled her eyes. “Why am I the one who thinks this is never gonna work?” she growled.

           “Just once,” interjected André, “If it doesn’t look like it’s gonna work, we’ll call it quits. It’s no scientifically-proven cure, but Dodge is an audio guy; might be onto something, and you’re not giving him enough credit, as usual.” “Wha–!” Marjani’s jaw dropped incredulously, “I give Dodge credit! I told Lissy the backstage passes were from him, didn’t I?” “Technically, it was Marie who told me,” replied Felicity. Marjani groaned again before finally shrugging. “Fine, we’ll try it,” she gave in, “We doin’ anythin’ else tomorrow?”

           “I’ve got the day off,” confirmed Dodge. “No practice, but we’ve got a match in the afternoon,” added Amber, “And it’s with Spice Splat again. I’m starting to wonder if Caroline’s doing this on purpose, too, the same way she got our teams mixed together for the Splatfest.” “Oh, we could join them!” exclaimed Felicity, “You know, moral support and all that. And then we can all have our strategy meeting right after, right?” “Actually…” replied Amber with a small grin, “I was thinking that if they’re busy with Dodge, you and I could hang out together.” “What would you want to hang out with Lissy for?” asked Marjani nonchalantly.

           “Are we not allowed?” asked Amber, “Just sort of a girl’s day out kind of thing. You know, the kind of stuff you’re not really into.” Marjani glanced back and forth between Felicity and Amber. “B-but Lissy–” she started, before her gaze came to rest on Dodge, realizing that he was out of the loop on Felicity’s secret. “But Lissy what?” Amber smirked as she crossed her arms in victory, taking a small amount of pleasure from seeing her teammate squirm.

           “Alright, fine,” Marjani conceded, “Have your little girly-girl day or whatever. No skin off my nose.” “Yay!” Felicity rejoiced quietly as thoughts of what the morning ahead could hold in store for her and her captain. “Alright, let’s get together outside Inkopolis Tower tomorrow at, say, 9?” asked Dodge. “That early?” asked André, “Sure you won’t need more time to set everything up?”

           “If I say 10, Sis’ll be there at 11,” retorted Dodge, “You know how she is.” “Just had a Splatfest over it,” agreed André. “And we won!” argued Marjani, “Or did you forget that because of all the loud noise?” André shot Marjani an irritable look. “Don’t push it,” he warned her, “Let’s just agree to be there by 9, got it?” “Fine,” agreed Marjani, “No promises, but I’ll put off goin’ to see Spyke until we’re done with this stupid therapy thing.”

           “Great, then it’s settled,” replied Dodge, standing up with his meal tray, “I’m gonna drop by work and see what I can get from the boss in terms of equipment and a nice, quiet, open location for us to do this.” “See you tomorrow, then?” asked André. “Yeah, both of you,” replied Dodge before glancing over to Felicity, “And hopefully you ladies, too?” “Maaaybe,” replied Felicity with a cute smile, “It depends on where we all get together before the match.”

           “Back at my place,” Amber spoke up, “The match is at 4, so let’s be there for the strategy meeting around 3.” “Alright, I’ll see you guys around,” said Dodge, walking away as Marjani rubbed her temples and sighed. “Later, Dodge,” she muttered sluggishly. The four resumed finishing their meal in silence as they each contemplated the day ahead, not knowing for certain what it would bring.

             Marjani sighed as she adjusted the collar on her jacket and tried once more to rub the sleep from her eyes. She wasn’t sure why she’d agreed to Dodge’s suggestion; perhaps André’s willingness to try it had something to do with it. In the time that they had known each other, André had never been particularly thrilled to be her teammate, especially after she’d flown off the handle at everyone following their first loss to Spice Splat. Perhaps she felt obligated to at least try to get on his good side before their next match with the team, but why did she care?

           She, Dodge, and André were all arriving at Blackbelly Skatepark, which was devoid of scheduled matches for the day. Dodge had successfully arranged to get the empty park to themselves, so that they could attempt his harebrained idea of “therapy.” Marjani looked around and breathed a sigh of relief as she realized there was no one else there but them. She couldn’t shake a sinking feeling in her gut that bordered on outright pain, but its source eluded her; she hadn’t even missed breakfast. Worse yet was the familiarity of the sensation.

           “Alright, here we are,” Dodge finally spoke, “A nice, quiet, open place.” He led the two over to a pair of speakers set up on either side of a table where he’d set up his controlling equipment. “Geez, Dodge, you got all this shit out here yourself?” asked Marjani, crossing her arms. “I had some help,” explained Dodge, “My co-workers pitched in. And it ain’t shit.” “Steady work must be nice,” mused André. “Playin’ Turf War would be cool, but even if I could, I wouldn’t give up music,” replied Dodge as he moved around behind the table, “It’s part of my soul, you know?”

           “‘If you could?’” asked André, “…Have you never even tried Turf War?” “Can’t,” replied Dodge as he turned the equipment on, “Don’t have an ink sac. I’m surprised Sis hasn’t told you guys.” “You don’t–?” André stopped himself from repeating Dodge a second time before continuing, “Wow, that’s…” “–Totally normal for me,” interrupted Dodge, shaking his head with a smile to dissuade André from pitying him, “I’ve lived my whole life like this. I got an infection in it before I was even born. The whole thing was necrotic, so they had to cut it out to save my life.”

           “Ever wish you could play Turf War, though?” asked André as he crossed his arms inquisitively. “Course I do,” Dodge affirmed, smirking, “When I was younger, it broke my heart that I’d never be able to play. But I got used to it and decided to do what I could with my life, instead of just sittin’ around feelin’ sorry for myself. I like to think it’s my way of gettin’ back at my ink sac for tryin’ to kill me, and not lettin’ somethin’ that makes me different get in the way of me havin’ an impact on the world.”

           André nodded in understanding. “If you two are done with your stupid little heart-to-heart, can we get started?” asked Marjani, “Let’s get this shit over with already.” Dodge nodded. “Everythin’ is ready to go. I’m gonna start with some lower volumes and work my way up,” he explained, “I got some audio straight from a Turf War match, so it’ll be the kinda stuff you guys should be used to. I figure that’s as good a place to start as any.” “Alright, already, just start it,” groaned Marjani, losing her patience with her brother.

           Dodge pressed a button on the control unit before moving a pair of volume sliders up. “You guys might wanna stand back a little bit so you’re not this close to the speakers,” he cautioned, picking up a pair of noise-cancelling headphones he’d had on the table and placing them over his ears. The song “Metalopod” could be heard starting up in the background of the noise of a usual Turf War. Marjani grinned and began to laugh as she and André stepped back from the speakers.

           “Dodge, if you wanted an excuse to blast my jam, you coulda just asked!” she joked over the noise as she glanced over to André, who was furrowing his brow while Dodge increased the volume. “What’s wrong, big guy?” Marjani quipped, “Come on, we’re just gettin’ started! Pump it up, Dodge!” André shot a dirty look at Marjani before rolling his eyes and looking away. He squeezed his eyes shut as he tried to concentrate. Dodge continued to increase the volume on the speakers until the sound was resounding around the skatepark.

           Marjani kept grinning at André as he started shaking his head intermittently, losing his focus as the volume increased. “Come on, André, you can do it!” Marjani needled her teammate sarcastically, “Didn’t you think this was such a great idea?” She began laughing outright as André covered his ears, grunting slightly and trying to maintain his composure. “Man, what is your malfunction?” she asked, “It’s just a little–”

           Marjani was cut short as the Turf War audio suddenly sounded off the unmistakable noise of a Killer Wail special weapon starting up. Her breath caught in her throat as Dodge’s eyes widened. He quickly tried to slide the volume down on the speakers, causing André to snap back to reality just in time to hear a blood-curdling scream coming from his teammate. He jumped in surprise as he looked over to Marjani, who had one arm wrapped around her waist and the other around her own head, sobbing uncontrollably on her knees as Dodge dropped the noise cancellers on the table and rushed to her side.

           “Shit!” Dodge hissed, “There was a Killer Wail in there?!” André watched in shock as Dodge knelt down in front of his sister. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no!” Marjani repeated herself over and over as she tried to control her bawling. “Sis!” Dodge said, taking hold of his sister’s shoulders, “Marjani! It’s okay! I’m here! It’s alright!” Marjani looked her brother in the eye, her quickened breathing slowly for just a moment before she gritted her teeth and screamed again, this time in frustration.

           Throwing Dodge’s arms off of her shoulders, she pulled her arm back and, before Dodge could react to what was going on, threw a punch straight into his left cheek, knocking him off balance and onto his back. “You fuckin’ IDIOT!” Marjani screeched as she stood up, tears still streaming down her face, “You blasted a fuckin’ Killer Wail!” “I-I didn’t know!” protested Dodge. “You didn’t KNOW?!” Marjani screamed, “How did you not fuckin’ know?! Didn’t you listen to it first to check?!” Dodge simply sat wordlessly, still stunned from Marjani’s punch.

           “Fuckin’ idiot!” Marjani screeched, turning away and storming off, “Fuck this! Fuck it all!” André took a few steps over to Dodge’s side and held out his hand for Dodge to take, putting the other on the younger Inkling’s back to help him up onto his feet. “Sis, wait!” shouted Dodge, starting to follow after his sister. “Fuck you!” yelled Marjani one last time, throwing up her middle finger over her shoulder as she continued walking away.

           “Let her go, Dodge,” suggested André, putting his hand on Dodge to hold him back, “…You alright? Looked like one hell of a punch.” “Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Dodge replied, rubbing his jaw, “I’m not bleedin’ or anythin’, am I?” “Nah,” André confirmed, “…The hell was that?” “Sis doesn’t like loud noise, but she can put up with most of it no problem,” replied Dodge, “Mostly it’s just Killer Wails that get her riled up.” “That was a little more than ‘riled up,’ Dodge,” argued André, “Gotta have a reason.”

           “Sh-she… doesn’t like people to know,” stammered Dodge, “I shouldn’t tell you. When she’s ready, she’ll talk about it.” “Now would be a really good time for her to be ready,” said André, “Not sure if you’re aware, but she just punched you over it.” “Eh, she’s hit me harder before,” said Dodge, “I’m used to it.” “That’s… not healthy,” replied André in surprise. “Nah, it doesn’t happen often,” Dodge reassured him, “And she only does it when I’ve got it comin’. It’s almost always when I do somethin’ really stupid… like that.”

           “Almost?” André questioned. “A year or so ago, she was lashin’ out a lot more, and over little stuff more often than not,” explained Dodge, walking back over to the control unit for the speakers and turning the equipment off entirely, “Mom and Dad lost their patience with her and made her get her own place.” André sighed and put his hands on his hips. “Piece of work, that one…” he mumbled, “How do you put up with her when even your parents won’t?” “Because I know her better than they do anymore,” replied Dodge pensively before looking André in the eye, “And I’m not givin’ up on her.”

           “Dodge…” André murmured, “What happened to her? What made her like this? Is it just the addictions?” “You gotta ask her that yourself,” replied Dodge, shaking his head, “Like I said, ain’t my place to tell you.” “Well, she sure won’t,” growled André, “More likely Felicity, maybe Amber, but not me.” “If you’re that interested, I suggest you find someone else who might know,” replied Dodge, “But for now, it looks like my idea was a bust after all. You go ahead and peace out, I’m gonna call up my co-workers and we’re gonna haul all this stuff back.”

           André sighed again as he tried to process everything he’d just seen, waving half-heartedly to Dodge to acknowledge his suggestion as he turned to leave the skatepark. He breathed deeply as he glanced back to the other squid. Dodge, not realizing André was looking in his direction, wiped his eyes on his sleeve before continuing to rub his sore jaw. André looked back to the entrance of the skatepark to see if Marjani was still in sight, but she was long gone.

             André rubbed his left temple as he walked down the hall of Amber’s apartment building, his right hand holding the strap on the Roller bag slung over his shoulder. He let out a rumbling sigh as he arrived at Amber’s door and knocked. “Amber? Felicity?” he bellowed, “You two back yet?” “Come on in!” he heard Amber’s voice on the other side, “Door’s unlocked!” His large fingers gripping the knob gingerly, as if it could break were he to simply grab it, André opened the door gently and peered into the room.

           Amber and Felicity were seated upon the former’s bed, side-by-side. Felicity was sporting expertly-braided tentacles and sparkling blue fingernails, while Amber seemed to have tried a new lip gloss color – or any at all, for that matter. Amber was busy on her phone, no doubt deleting spam as usual. “Hi, André!” Felicity beamed, presenting her nails proudly, “Like ‘em? I thought I’d try something new!” André smirked and nodded. “Just you?” asked Amber, “I figured you and Marjani would be showing up together. How’d everything go?”

           “She isn’t here yet…?” asked André, furrowing his brow before sighing in realization. “Did something happen?” asked Felicity, “Is she alright?” “I’m not sure,” replied André, “Things went south after just a couple minutes, and she took off.” “Went south… in what sense?” asked Amber, raising an eyebrow. “Turns out she really hates Killer Wails,” revealed André, “Dodge played the sound of one on accident and she lost it. She punched him for it. I’ve never seen her like that.”

           “Where is she now?!” asked Felicity, panicking as she stood up off of the bed, “Where did she go?!” “Not sure,” replied André, “Thought maybe she’d go home and then show up here for the meeting. Being late’s nothing new for her, but what I saw… I don’t know if she’ll even remember we have a match. Might be better not to wait and see.” “I’ll try calling her,” Amber reassured the others, opening up her contacts list on her phone and dialing Marjani’s number.

           She held her phone up to her ear as the other two silently waited. They could barely hear their own breathing as the quiet dial tones on Amber’s phone continued, her expression slowly becoming crestfallen as Marjani failed to answer the call. Eventually, Amber shook her head in defeat and hung up. “She’s not answering,” she said as she shook her head in dismay , “She needs to set up her voicemail already.” “I keep trying to remind her,” added Felicity, “But I don’t want to seem like I’m nagging; I think that makes her care about it less.”

           André sighed, setting his Roller down and going back over to the door. “Wait, where are you going?” asked Amber, “What about the meeting?” “Won’t do us much good if we don’t have our fourth teammate, and I doubt that VX guy is just gonna magically show up to bail us out this time,” replied André, “I’m gonna go look for her. If I’m not back in half an hour, can you two get my Roller over to the tower? I’ll meet you there in time for the match.” “We could go with you,” suggested Amber.

           “No, I’ll find her myself,” maintained André, “Should’ve gone after her in the first place. Seemed like the best thing was to just let her vent.” “Why didn’t you stop her?” asked Felicity. André paused with his hand on the doorknob, hanging his head guiltily before looking back to the other two. “…Because she doesn’t like me. You know that,” he rumbled, “She probably couldn’t have hurt me if I intervened, but… I didn’t want her to try. Things don’t need to be even worse between us.”

           He opened the door and stepped out into the hall before turning back around. “Like I said, if I’m not back soon, skip the meeting and get to the tower,” he repeated, “I’ll meet you there, with or without her.” “Where are you going to start?” Amber questioned, “Any idea where she would’ve gone?” André put his hand on the outside doorknob again, nodding solemnly at Amber. “Just one,” he confirmed, “Hope I’m right.” He closed the door, this time slightly less gently than when he’d entered.

             Spyke breathed out a puff of smoke lazily as he slouched in his shop, located at the end of a shaded back alley near Inkopolis Tower. He had spent the last few days cleaning up the area and adding some needed decoration, such as hanging some exotic-looking rugs he’d found across wires to create a patchy “roof” of sorts, and putting out scented candles and incense burners that helped to mask the persistent stenches of tobacco or whatever else he had burning at any given time. This year’s Turf War season had caused his “business” to attract more customers than before, much to his delight, so his alleyway had to be at least a bit presentable.

           He took a sip of his whiskey, his bracelets jangling as he raised his glass, inspected the finer details of the cigar he was smoking, and scoffed quietly before taking another puff. He glanced over to a nearby Inkling sporting ghostly pale skin, unsettling, sleepless purple eyes, and lime green tentacles, leaning against the wall to Spyke’s left while smoking a cigarette with a grim look on his face, which bore a sizable scar that extended from just below his right eye across his cheekbone and down to his jawline. He wore a Rockenberg Black t-shirt and a pair of Black Trainers.

           “Wot ‘bout you, Nico?” asked Spyke, “It’s been a slow afternoon. Fink we oughta close up early fer the day?” Nico exhaled a green-colored smoke through his nostrils and shook his head before jerking it to his left, toward the entrance to the alley, where a massive silhouette was blocking a portion of what little light was allowed into Spyke’s dim shop now that he’d put the ceiling up. Spyke looked back to the entrance of the shop, his eye caught by the tall, muscular Inkling standing a few meters ahead of him, and gave a wide, disconcerting grin.

           Spyke pushed his lanky, gaunt form onto its feet, his bony fingers continuing to grip his drink and cigar, rising nearly to the height of the Inkling before him, a difference obscured by the urchin’s spiny head. “Well, well, well…” he mused theatrically, “What brings André the Giant Squid to my… humble establishment?” The Inkling stepped forward, his face now better illuminated. “I’m loo–” he started before being cut off by the tipsy, poncho-clad tramp.

           “–No, wait, lemme guess…” interrupted Spyke, gesturing slightly toward André with his cigar before taking another swig of his whiskey as he pondered for a moment before continuing knowingly, “…Yer lookin’ fer MJ.” André raised his eyebrow at the thought of someone calling Marjani “MJ,” but folded his arms and continued the conversation anyway. “How’d you guess?” he asked. Spyke took another puff of his cigar and exhaled, inadvertently blowing the smoke into the Inkling’s face, grinning as though he fancied himself to be some all-knowing guru.

           “‘Cause she told me ‘at André the Giant Squid’s on ‘er new team a while back. And she came by here earlier in a… right foul mood, rantin’ about ‘er bruvva or sumfin’,” he replied nonchalantly, “We passed a blunt ‘round so she could calm down a li’l ‘fore she took off. Didn’t say where she was ‘eaded, though; sorry, mate.” André grimaced before continuing. “What was she saying about her brother?” he asked as Spyke continued his smoking.

           “Ya know ‘er bruvva, right? Wot was ‘is name?” asked Spyke, “Ten-Dodgy, or sumfin’?” “Tendaji. Dodge for short. I know him,” replied André, fighting the urge to glance at the green-tentacled Inkling smoking nearby, who was staring unflinchingly at the giant Inkling. Spyke took another gulp of his whiskey and cleared his throat. “Right, well, I don’t remember exactly wot it was; sumfin’ ‘bout him bein’ loud. Was a li’l too stoned ta listen proper,” he admitted.

           “I was there. We both hate loud noises, and he was trying to help us get better at dealing with it,” André explained, “But she completely lost it when he played the sound of a Killer Wail on accident.” Spyke’s eye widened and his grin vanished as he realized the implication of André’s revelation. “Oh… OH,” he muttered, repeating his reaction as if trying to add some needless emphasis, “Well, now ‘at explains a lot.” “Can you tell me anything about that?” André questioned, “Dodge won’t talk.”

           Spyke nodded slowly as his eye glanced about, almost as though he was looking for Marjani herself to make sure she wouldn’t overhear him. “…I might, mate. ‘Ave a seat,” he offered, turning back toward his usual spot and walking back over to it while lazily gesturing toward the other Inkling, “Nico, mix up a drink fer André, would ya?” “Not old enough,” interjected André. Spyke’s lowered head perked up at this, betraying how taken aback he was, and he turned back around to face his guest, sizing him up in confusion.

           “…But yer, like, nine feet tall, mate, how’re ya not old enough…?” he asked quietly, “You sure? Ain’t no one ‘round ‘ere wot can tell ya wot ta do… Come on, live a little, mate. Nico mixes a mean Old Fashioned.” André shook his head and waved his hand sternly as if demonstrating his resolve. “Not here for vices, Spyke. Got a match later, and I’d rather say sharp,” he countered, “If underage drinking doesn’t bother you, at least respect that.” Spyke shrugged with a slight smile.

           “Alright, whatever, nix the drink, Nico,” he admitted defeat with a wave of his cigar, complying with André’s staunch refusal, before settling down back into his usual seat, the gigantic Inkling sitting down in front of him and crossing his arms. Setting his whiskey down next to himself, he flexed his emaciated fingers with a quiet crackling. He took another puff of his cigar before sighing. “…You know, I been finkin’, why do ‘ey call it ‘marowana?’ S’not even made wif arowana. S’bloody kelp…” he pondered, before placing the cigar down on an ashtray and breathing deeply.

           His eye lolled upward slightly, away from André’s gaze, as he reminisced about Marjani’s past. “Awright, well, where do I begin…?” he asked himself quietly, closing his eye to think momentarily before deciding on his starting point. “MJ didn’t always used ta be the way she is now, if ya couldn’t guess. She was… a lot brighter,” he continued, looking back to André, “I didn’t know ‘er personally ‘en, but I was watchin’ ‘er Turf War match when it ‘appened.” “‘It…?’” asked André, raising an eyebrow. Spyke nodded and sighed.

           “At Moray Towers. ‘Er team was goin’ up against ‘at one international group, those, uh, Sharkfin girls, I fink,” Spyke recalled, “MJ might’ve been nicer, but she was just as aggressive back ‘en as she is now; decided ta head straight fer the enemy base at the beginning o’ the match, ya know, ‘ead ‘em off an’ cause trouble on their side o’ the field. She knew it was risky an’ would probably get ‘er splatted, but ya know, that’s how she plays – tries ta take out more o’ ‘em ‘fore gettin’ splatted ‘erself just ta keep ‘em occupied.”

           André was silent as he focused intently on Spyke’s tale. “Anyway, just as she was comin’ up the side o’ one o’ the towers, someone on the other team planted down a Killer Wail. ‘Ey were just tryin’ ta hit one of ‘er teammates on the other side o’ the field, didn’t know she was ‘at close…” Spyke continued, “MJ got ta the top o’ the wall an’ took it point-blank… She never saw it comin’.” “So she got splatted?” asked André.

           “Worse. When she respawned, she was coughin’ up a mix o’ ‘er own ink an’ blood. She was so close ta the Wail ‘at the sound blast ‘ad messed up ‘er internal organs, done some real bad damage,” Spyke’s eyelid drooped as he solemnly called back the memories of the day, “‘Ey called off the match, an’ she spent the next monf in the ‘ospital. She was in pain the whole time, an’ kept takin’ painkillers even after she got out. Liked the way ‘ey made ‘er feel.”

           “That’s how it started, then?” asked André. Spyke nodded, looking André in the eye again in resignation. “When she ran out, she came ta me knowin’ I’d be the kind o’ guy who could ‘ook ‘er up wif more,” he continued, “‘At’s ‘how I met ‘er.” “So you got her addicted to all these harder drugs, then?” André gritted his teeth as the corner of his mouth curled into a snarl, “Took advantage of her situation to get yourself a new regular, did you?”

           “I never gave ‘er anyfin she didn’t ask fer, never pressured ‘er ta try anyfin’ new or nuffin’,” retorted Spyke, “I make it my job ta ‘elp people, no matter wot it is ‘ey need. Ain’t always strictly legal, but–” “–But, let me guess, ‘you mean well,’ so it’s all okay?” growled André, “No, of course, what people do with the drugs you help them get is their business, right? Not like you’re an enabler or anything. No ink on your hands, is that it?”

           “Look, I’m MJ’s dealer, yeah, but don’t fink I haven’t done nuffin’ to try and ‘elp ‘er kick it, too. I’m ‘bout as far from perfect as a bloke can get, but s’not like all I care ‘bout’s my bottom line…!” Spyke insisted as his volume escalated, “I’ve kept ‘er away from the more dangerous stuff an’ made sure she never gets too much o’ anyfin’. If she weren’t such a friend, I’d say I practically babysit ‘er – an’ I wager I do a better bloody job of it ‘an you an’ your teammates, eh, considerin’ you came here hopin’ ta find ‘er?”

           The two fell silent as Spyke realized he’d crossed a line with his last statement. André sighed and his expression fell as he knew Spyke was right – the urchin knew Marjani better than her own teammates did, especially André himself; while she was certainly difficult to work with, André’s own disapproval of her was also partly to blame for their poor relationship. Spyke stammered for a moment, his breath out of sync with his desire to speak as he collected himself. “Sorry. ‘At was outta line,” he apologized, “…But you asked, mate.”

           André rose to his feet silently, still avoiding eye contact with the urchin. “Guess I did…” he agreed glumly as he turned back around, “Thanks for the story. Sorry for wasting your time.” He started making his way back to the entrance of the alley. “…It weren’t a waste,” retorted Spyke. André stopped and started to look back over his shoulder. “…Good luck findin’ ‘er, mate,” Spyke added. André turned forward again. “Take care, Spyke,” he murmured, resuming his exit. “Always do,” replied the urchin quietly as André walked back out into the sunlight, briefly casting a shadow into the alley before vanishing into Inkopolis Plaza.

             André looked up to the doors to Inkopolis Tower before him and sighed. He hadn’t managed to find Marjani in time; he had spent too long listening to Spyke’s story, but the urchin had been unable to provide him with any leads as to his teammate’s current whereabouts. His only hope was that she had remembered the strategy meeting and shown up at Amber’s apartment after he’d left. He stepped forward, the automatic doors sliding open to clear his path.

           “Don’t worry, he said he’d be here,” he heard a familiar voice speaking as he looked around, spotting his teammates nearby. Amber had her hand on Felicity’s shoulder, reassuring her that André would arrive before the match. Hearing the doors open behind them, Amber glanced over her shoulder and spotted André. “See, just like I said,” she added, causing Felicity to turn around. As the two parted, André realized that Marjani was present, facing the two of them, and now him. “M-Marjani,” he stammered in surprise, “You’re… here.”

           “Yeah,” Marjani murmured sheepishly, “I was just upstairs. Had to… I had to say sorry to Dodge.” “That’s…” André was at a loss for words and simply nodded. “I kinda gave you the runaround, huh?” asked Marjani, a hint of hoarseness still in her voice, “Amber said you were out lookin’ for me.” André looked to Amber before nodding at Marjani. “Yeah,” he replied, “Looks like I was the late one for once… You did remember we have a match, right?”

           “Uh, yeah,” replied Marjani in annoyance, slinging her Splatling’s bag off of her shoulder, “Dude, we’re goin’ up against Spice Splat, I’m not forgettin’ that.” André turned to Felicity. “Were you two okay taking my Roller over here, or do I have to go back for it?” Felicity nodded, pointing over to André’s Roller bag, which was leaning against a nearby wall. “Thanks,” André said, walking over to the bag and kneeling down to unzip it, “Wasn’t too heavy, was it?”

           “Nah, we did fine,” replied Felicity, “We’re stronger than we look.” She held up her arms as if flexing, beaming at her teammate. André smirked and shook his head, chuckling quietly as he rose back to his feet, his Roller on his shoulder. “The others not here yet?” he asked as the doors to the tower opened once more. As if on cue, the four members of Spice Splat walked into the tower. “Sorry we’re late, everyone!” shouted Caroline, her usual grin plastered on her face.

           “Everything’s backwards today…” muttered Amber, “First André’s last to show, then Spice Splat is here after all of us…” “Butch here…” continued Caroline, gesturing to the team’s Inkbrusher, “Almost forgot about our match!” “Oi, I didn’t fuggedaboutit!” protested Butch, “My uncle–” “–Had yuh runnin’ an errand or some odduh bilge, we know,” interrupted Moruga, “We’ve heard it before, Butch. De point is dat it needs to stop if yuh are as committed to dis team as yuh say.”

           “I know, I know,” insisted Butch irritatedly, “Come on, we ain’t got much time ‘til da match. Let’s get goin’.” Jolokia smiled at the other team, cradling her Tri-Slosher. “It’s good to see you all again,” she greeted them politely, before making eye contact with André. Her smile fell slightly as she looked away from him. “We should really catch up after this,” she continued, a little more quietly than before, “We haven’t all been together in one place since that match in the Splatfest, and we were too busy playing against each other.”

           André nodded in her direction before speaking up. “We could… go get coff–” he was cut off as the intercom in the room sounded off. “Teams Spice Splat and Outcasts to Walleye Warehouse, please,” the voice spoke, “Teams Spice Splat and Outcasts, to Walleye Warehouse.” “That’s our cue!” declared Caroline as she adjusted her grip on her Mini Splatling, “Don’t hold back just because we’re friends now, Amber!” “Us? Friends?” Amber scoffed as the two teams made their way to the grates, “Maybe someday, Humboldt.”

           “Ouch, girl,” replied Caroline. “Looks like things really are backwards today,” added Felicity confidently, “Now Amber’s the one burning you guys!” “Zip it, squirt,” snapped Butch, “Don’t give your girl too much credit. Boss set herself up for dat one.” “Why don’t you put your money where your mouth is, rich boy?” interjected Marjani, “Or are you scared of a little girl with a Charger?” “Enough banter,” bellowed Moruga, “Or we’re goin’ ta be late.” The eight battlers, all chomping at the bit, transformed into their cephalopod forms and dropped through the grates.

             The four Outcasts rose out of the indigo ink at their spawn point, weapons at the ready. “Alright, Outcasts,” Amber addressed her teammates, hoping to rally them, “I know we had to skip the strategy meeting again, but at least we know what to expect from these guys. Let’s show Spice Splat what we’ve learned.” Felicity nodded with a dubious smile, psyching herself up for the match ahead, even though none of her teammates were facing her to see this. “Marjani…” murmured André quietly as he glanced over to his teammate, “You… gonna be okay for this?”

           “Yeah,” replied Marjani confidently, sounding insulted by André’s insinuation, “Relax, I’m over it. I’ll be fine.” André tightened his grip on his Roller and breathed deeply to calm himself, turning his focus and his gaze forward once more. “If you say so…” he whispered. “Three!” the usual voice spoke over the loudspeakers. “Here we go, guys,” Amber prepared herself, holding her Octoshot Replica at the ready. “Two!” the voice continued, “One!” Felicity held her Squiffer up, ready to begin charging it the moment the match began. “Go!”

           The four Outcasts rushed forward from the starting point, the narrow spawn area restricting them into moving together early on. “Marjani, you’re closest to the left path, I want you inking that! André, take the right!” barked Amber, “Felicity, hop across the containers and try to keep them on their toes once they get to the center! I’m going right into the action, so I want you covering my blind spots!” The teammates fanned out, each following Amber’s orders.

           André kept an eye on the turf ahead as he lumbered down the ramp along the Outcasts’ right side of the warehouse, a high wall on his left completely obscuring his view of the rest of the action. As he reached the bottom, he took a moment to survey the area and make sure he hadn’t been spotted. He could see Moruga taking his place on Spice Splat’s equivalent of the vantage point where Felicity had planted herself, removed from the action that would no doubt unfold in the center but a prime sniper’s perch.

           André made a right and began making his way around another shorter wall, covering as much turf as he could on that side. As he inked underneath a grate, he suddenly felt the sting of Spice Splat’s signature red ink landing on him. He quickly ducked into his squid form and swam a short distance back through his own path to wash the red ink off of himself. “Damn, can’t tell if he’s still here or not,” he heard a voice above mutter, “How’s Ninja Squid even work fuh somebody dat big?”

           André emerged from the indigo ink to see Butch standing above. “Hey, you are still here!” shouted Butch with a grin, “Wazza madda, Kraken? Scared ta come up here and get me?” “Would if I could, Butch!” replied André, “You know I can’t ink those walls.” Butch threw back his head and let out a laugh. “Oh, I bet youse would like dat, wouldn’t ya?” he taunted his opponent, “Every time you’ve used dat famous Kraken, youse always pick me ta go aftah.”

           André gritted his teeth and glanced to his left as he swung his Roller menacingly, repainting the ground beneath Butch but missing the squid himself. “Oi, watch da tempah!” Butch mocked him, “I mean, I get it if youse hate me ‘cause I took your spot! Youse scared dey like me bettah than when youse was rollin’ with dem, I’m bettin’! Look, Kraken, youse don’t gotta be jealous! I got mad respect for youse!”

           “Was just re-inking the turf, Butch,” replied André with a smirk, “I know I can’t hit you up there. Don’t think so highly of yourself.” Butch gritted his teeth and swung his Inkbrush wildly, flinging ink all around below himself, before dropping through the grates in his squid form and transforming back. “I’m not jealous, Butch. I’m glad they’ve been doing well without me; that they found someone new who could take my place so quickly. I don’t resent you for that,” André continued, Butch’s reaction betraying that they had traded the psychological high ground.

           Butch planted his Inkbrush on the ground and rushed toward André, only for the latter to place his own Roller down, rolling forward just enough to trap the bristles of Butch’s brush under it as he neared his massive predecessor. As Butch tried to yank his weapon free, André leaned forward and looked his replacement in the eye. “What I don’t like is your overgrown ego,” he growled, “Sure, you might be an ‘Inkbrush Prodigy,’ and good enough to be my replacement, but I find it insulting that they picked such a loudmouth to fill my shoes. I don’t care if you’re all talk or not, Butch; but you do it too much.”

           Before Butch could react with a witty comeback, André continued pushing his Roller forward, splatting his horrified successor and sending him back to the other team’s spawn. Taking no time to relish his minor victory, he continued pushing forward, inking whatever he could of Butch’s handiwork before turning his attention to the center of the battlefield, where Amber was huddled behind a stack of crates smack in the middle of the flat, open area, taking cover from Moruga’s shots.

           André kept a careful eye on Moruga’s targeting sight as he made his way over to rendezvous with his teammate. “Need a hand, Captain?” he asked as Amber smiled at the sight of him. “Boy, am I glad to see you!” she sighed in relief, “Felicity helped me pin down Jolokia and get her out of Marjani’s way. She kept going on up their right path. I saw you working out your frustrations with Butch over there. How’d you get him to come down to you like that?”

           “Just told him he wasn’t the most important thing in the universe,” quipped André. Amber stifled her laughter with a quiet snort. “Asshole had it coming,” she replied, “…So I’m still not sure where Caroline is, but I’m worried Marjani’s gonna get herself splatted up there that close to their spawn, especially with Jolokia and Butch getting back out here any second now. I think you oughta get up that way and back her up. There’s enough of our ink that you should be able to slip past Moruga with Ninja Squid, but I’ll give you some cover fire to draw his attention.”

           André nodded and transformed into his squid form, leaving Amber to fend for herself as he swam toward the side of the field that Marjani had taken from the start, making his way up Spice Splat’s equivalent of the ramp that he had taken at Amber’s first orders. “Alright, Oaxaca, let’s dance!” shouted Amber as she sprang out from behind the boxes, hoping to draw and evade the sniper’s fire. As she pressed forward, she looked up to where Moruga had been standing, only to spot a different squid in his place – Caroline.

           “Guess again, girl!” replied Caroline, unleashing a barrage of ink from her Mini Splatling. Retreating back in her indigo-colored ink to the safety of the boxes, Amber panted heavily as she realized her mistake. “Shit!” she hissed to herself, “Caroline’s there now?! But then where did…?!” She looked over to where André had gone after Marjani. “No!” she yelped, “That’s a narrow passage with no way out but forward or back! If he catches them in there…!”

           As André made his way toward the top of the slope, he sprang out of his squid form, spotting Marjani ahead of him. Looking past her, however, he saw another figure arriving on the ledge above them, scowling callously at his opponents. “Marjani!” shouted André, rushing forward to his teammate as he saw the telltale gleam of Moruga’s tentacles beneath his beret. He clenched his Roller, reaching the end of the slope where Marjani was turning around to face him, just as Moruga activated his special weapon.

           Time slowed as Moruga’s Killer Wail started up. André rushed toward Marjani as she looked back over her shoulder in horror, the sound of the Killer Wail alerting her to what was coming. Without thinking, André swung his Roller from left to right, knocking Marjani out of the corridor through its only exit, into Spice Splat’s territory. He looked at Moruga in a combination of surprise and fury for just a split second before the Killer Wail went off, sending a blast of sound straight down the corridor.

           Marjani breathed heavily, tears streaming from her clenched eyes as she squeezed her Splatling’s handle until her knuckles were white. As the screech of the Killer Wail faded, she slowly realized that she hadn’t been splatted, and stood up in Spice Splat’s red ink, looking around and seeing no other players around her. “Wha… what?” she muttered to herself as she struggled to process what had just transpired.

           “Shit!” she hissed, realizing that André had taken the blast from the Killer Wail in her place, “That was…!” Before Moruga could come around the corner and get her in his sights, she quickly transformed into her squid form and Super Jumped all the way back to the Outcasts’ spawn point. She took a few steps forward as she waited for André to respawn from the pool of ink. After a few seconds, he rematerialized, dropping his Roller and falling to his knees. He grunted between heavy breaths as his eyes darted aimlessly.

           “André!” Marjani shouted, dropping her Splatling into the ink with a distinct plop and putting her hands on her teammate’s shoulders, “André! Pull it together!” André’s eyes finally stopped moving as his breathing slowed back down to a normal rate, and he looked Marjani in the eye. “That’s it, big guy,” she whispered, “It’s alright. I’m here.” “…Why?” asked André quietly. “Why am I here?” asked Marjani, “We’re in the middle of a Turf War match, you big lug. You didn’t… forget, did you?”

           André sighed. “N-no,” he muttered, rising back to his feet and picking up his Roller, “That’s… exactly why I was asking. If we’re in the middle of a match, you oughta be out there inking, not back here at spawn. Unless… did I… you didn’t get hit by it too, did you?” Marjani shook her head. “No…” she muttered sheepishly, “I-I… I had to make sure you’d be okay. I mean…” She struggled to find the right words, awkwardly breaking eye contact with her teammate.

           “…You know, just… after what you were doin’ over at Blackbelly earlier, I-I thought the noise might fuck you up,” she stammered a little more loudly, picking up her Splatling again, “That’s the last thing we need right now. You can… you know, cry about it or whatever if you need to later.” André smirked before slapping his own cheek lightly to make sure he had completely snapped back to reality. “Come on, we’ve wasted too much time here,” he suggested, stepping off of the spawn point, “Amber and Felicity need us. Let’s get back out–”

           Before André could finish, the figures of their other two teammates suddenly materialized out of the ink behind him. “Ugh!” groaned Amber before noticing André and Marjani. Realizing all four of them were back at their own spawn point, her jaw dropped slightly in surprise before she pointed to the battlefield. “Don’t just stand there staring!” she ordered, “We just wiped! They’re gonna be pushing hard now and none of us are down there to hold the line!”

           “Shit!” spat Marjani as she turned around, “Come on, fuck strategy, let’s just get out there and stop them!” “Language, Marjie!” Felicity scolded her teammate. “No, for once, I agree,” retorted André as the four transformed into their squid forms and swam forward toward the center of the map together, “No time for orders now.” The four didn’t make it very far before encountering Spice Splat’s signature red ink.

           “Wait, who got Marjani?” asked Caroline nonchalantly as she fired her Splatling, sweeping it horizontally to splatter her ink in as wide of an area as she could. “Wasn’t me!” replied Butch as he zipped around behind his teammates with his Inkbrush, inking spots they’d missed. “I thought I didn’t get ‘er wit’ my Killer Wail,” added Moruga, “Jolokia?” Jolokia simply shook her head as the eight members of the two teams closed in on each other in a chaotic flurry of red and indigo.

           “Nobody fuckin’ got me!” shouted Marjani over the cacophony, “I just jumped back to spawn!” “Language!” added Felicity quietly. “Wait, so you’re the only one who hasn’t been splatted yet?” asked Caroline, “Geez, you guys were right; things are backwards today!” “Then we’re on track to turn this around and win for once!” quipped Amber. As the Outcasts dodged splatters of red ink, trying to push back with their deep purple, a whistle suddenly sounded out.

           “Wait, what?!” asked Amber, looking around in confusion. Moruga began to chuckle. “I see yuh took my advice to heart,” he laughed, “Yuh forgot to keep track of de time limit.” Amber hung her head, knowing without a doubt that the Outcasts had been pushed back and defeated. “I was really hoping we could turn it around… and I said it and everything…” she muttered, “…What even happened? We were doing well up until that last minute or so.”

           She turned around, facing Marjani. “You jumped to spawn,” she said accusingly, “What for?” Marjani looked to André sheepishly before looking back at the captain. “I-I was on their side with Moruga on my ass,” she muttered, “Was tryin’ not to get splatted.” Amber put her hands on her hips and sighed. “Well, that’s not so bad,” she admitted, “Might’ve been able to get some of their side inked, but at least you got out of there instead of letting yourself get splatted like usual. You could’ve jumped to one of us out there in the middle, though.” “Didn’t know if you guys were safe to jump to,” retorted Marjani.

           “Sounds like you guys are learning,” Caroline acknowledged the group, “Keep it up. I legit wanna lose to you guys at least once before the end of the season.” “Speak fuh yourself, Boss!” snapped Butch, his mouth curled into a snarl, “I ain’t losin’ to dese amateurs! Not today, not evah!” “Play nice, Butch,” replied Caroline, without so much as glancing over her shoulder to her Inkbrusher, “Geez, who put a lionfish down your shirt?” Butch simply muttered incoherently to himself, folding his arms as he shot a look at André, who simply smirked back.

           “Alright, you guys, let’s get going,” sighed Amber. “Turf War’s closing up for the day. Almost time for dinner,” added Caroline, “You guys wanna go grab something with us?” “What do you guys think?” asked Amber, turning to her teammates. “It could be fun,” said Felicity. André simply nodded in agreement. “Would be nice to not be at each other’s throats for once,” he added. “Nah, not me, I’ve, uh…” Marjani stammered, “I’ve got somewhere to be.”

           “You sure?” asked Caroline, “I’ll even treat you guys.” Marjani hung her head and put her hands on her hips. “Tempting,” she said, “But I’m gonna pass.” “Alright, suit yourself,” Caroline acceded, “Let’s get back to our spawns.” She turned around and headed back toward Spice Splat’s spawn point, her teammates following behind. The Outcasts began to do the same, heading up the slope near where the match had started, Amber and Felicity leading the way.

           “Marjani,” grunted André quietly. Marjani looked up to her teammate as they walked side-by-side. “What?” she asked defensively, as if her teammate was going to scold her for declining Caroline’s offer. “Sorry for pushing you,” André rumbled quietly, not making eye contact with her, “With my Roller.” Marjani looked away for a moment to wipe her eye before clearing her throat. “N-nah,” she stuttered, “Th-thanks.” André simply nodded in acknowledgement.

           “H-hey, so,” continued Marjani, “I’m gonna go drop by Spyke’s. You, uh… you wanna come with?” André smiled, but shook his head. “Not really my thing,” he countered, “I’m gonna stick with the others for dinner. But thanks for the offer.” “Nah, man, that’s cool,” replied Marjani, “You know, you do you, man. But if you change your mind–” “–I know where to look,” André said. Marjani smiled behind her Skull Bandana as the two arrived back at the spawn point with their teammates, each transforming into their squid forms to return to Inkopolis Tower.

 SPLATOON: THE OUTCASTS

EPISODE END

             Shelley Quinn hummed the tune to one of the Squid Sisters’ recent singles, Marie’s “Tide Goes Out,” as she scrubbed a cast iron pan in hot water, the sunlight pouring in through the window directly in front of her kitchen sink. Courtesy of her child, she had heard the song far too many times recently and the beautiful, somber melody was stuck in her head, not that she minded.

           Placing the pan upside-down on a towel with the rest of the dishes she had just finished washing so it could air-dry, she took another towel hanging on the handle of the oven door and dried her hands with it, just in time for the phone to ring. She continued humming as she stepped over to the other side of the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Hello?” she said sweetly, greeting whomever it was that had called. Her warm smile slowly faded as she recognized the voice on the other end.

           Amber glanced back and forth between her three teammates, slowly processing the fact that Felicity and Marjani were wearing dark purple Team Night Owl shirts while she and André had bright yellow Team Early Bird tees. She looked to André as if he could say anything that would help the situation, eliciting little more from him than a defeated shrug. “Dammit!” she hissed under her breath before raising her tone, “We didn’t join the same team?!”

           “I thought Lissy was gonna tell you guys we were joinin’ Night Owl!” protested Marjani, turning to Felicity with a flummoxed look. “N-no!” cried Felicity, “I-I just asked which team you were joining! I didn’t know you wanted me to tell the others!” “André, I thought you were going to tell them to join the same team as us!” argued Amber. André folded his arms and shook his head. “All I did was suggest we should join Team Early Bird,” he countered, “Not on me to communicate that to them.”

           “But I–!” Amber began to object, only to be cut off. “–André’s kinda right, Cap,” interrupted Marjani, crossing her arms with a scowl. “Hey, now,” interjected Felicity, putting her hand on Marjani’s shoulder gently, “I mean, it’s not really worth arguing about, right? So what if we’re playing for different teams tonight? It could be fun!” Amber sighed. “No, they’re right,” she accepted, “It’s my bad. I… completely failed as captain. I got distracted by everything and totally forgot to make sure we were all on the same page.”

           Felicity bit her lip and looked down at her feet. “Oh…” she murmured. “No, no, Felicity, I didn’t mean it like that!” Amber reassured her teammate, “There’s… I’ve had some other stuff on my mind lately.” “Like?” asked Marjani. “It’s… personal,” Amber hesitantly explained. “And you didn’t tell us?” Felicity added. “It’s kinda private,” retorted Amber, “Look, the point is, if I were a better captain, I’d be able to compartmentalize all this, but I’m not, and I’m sorry.”

           “Not much to be done about it now,” sighed André, “But… not like it’s the end of the world.” “Yeah!” agreed Felicity, “We’ll play for our teams, see who wins, and be back together before you know it!” “Yeah, I guess it could be fun,” Marjani reluctantly agreed, “Plus, we get to play with other people for a change.” André nodded, unfolding his arms. “Change of pace might even do us some good,” he added, “Let’s get down to the plaza and find out who our teammates are.” “R-right,” stuttered Amber, nodding. She walked past André and headed down the hall toward the stairwell, the others following after her.

             André scanned the plaza as the group arrived back at their destination, furrowing his brow as he did. The Inklings present were dividing up into groups and meeting their new teammates for the Splatfest beneath numbered signs dotted around by the Splatfest’s staff. Most of the Inklings had already been assigned to their teams, but a few were still in line at a long table located near the central Inkopolis Tower, where several older Inklings sat with ledgers that listed every registered participant and which team of four they would be playing alongside.

           The Outcasts got in line and waited as the Inklings ahead of them found out their respective teams’ numbers. André tried not to sigh as he got to the front of the line and produced his Turf War ID wordlessly. “André Dorado…” mumbled the coordinator sitting before him as she read the card, “Why do I feel like I’ve heard that name before?” “Just imagining, probably,” replied André. “No, I definitely…” the coordinator murmured as she looked up to André and squinted upon making eye contact.

           After a moment, she gave up trying to recognize him and looked back down to the list. “André Dorado… Team 21,” she finished simply. “Thanks,” replied André, heading off in the direction of a sign looming over the crowd with a yellow “21” printed on it. “Marjani Kulevya,” said Marjani as she stepped forward, placing her Turf War ID on the table before her.

           “Is that with a ‘C’ or a ‘K’?” asked the coordinator, adjusting her glasses before inspecting the ID card. “Ugh…” Marjani scoffed, “A ‘K.’” The coordinator pursed her lips and flipped through the alphabetically-sorted list to find Marjani’s name as quickly as possible. “K… Kulevya… Marjani Kulevya, Team 37,” she replied, “…Hey, if you don’t mind me asking, are you related to–”

           “–The Turf War DJ?” interrupted Marjani, “Yep. My little brother.” “That’s gotta be cool,” the coordinator said with a smile. “Yeah, I guess,” Marjani replied nonchalantly as she headed off toward the sign with a purple “37.” Felicity stepped forward stiffly and presented her ID. “Fe–” she started before clearing her throat, “Felicity Quinn.” The coordinator checked her ID thoroughly before flipping through the ledger to find Felicity’s name.

           “I’m… not seeing it…” she replied, “There’s no entry here for that name.” “Wh-what?!” panicked Felicity, “B-but there m-must be some kind of m-mistake! I got m-my official Splatfest Tee and everything, see?!” Amber put her hand on Felicity’s shoulder from behind and stepped forward next to her friend. “Try looking under ‘O’Bryne,’ ma’am,” she suggested. “A-Amber!” exclaimed a stunned Felicity quietly. The coordinator flipped through to an earlier page. “Ah, there it is,” she said as she spotted it, “Felicity O’Bryne… Why the difference?”

           “Qu-Quinn is my mother’s maiden name,” stammered Felicity, “I-it’s, uh… it’s complicated. I-I must’ve forgotten th-that my registration uses my father’s surname…” “Says here you’re in Team 37, Miss Quinn,” read the coordinator, “And, I’m just curious, but you were Callie’s backup dancer during the opening ceremony earlier, weren’t you?” At this, Felicity beamed. “You r-recognized me?!” she asked excitedly. “Of course, it was the opening song!” replied the coordinator, “You were great!” “Th-thanks!” Felicity blushed as she smiled before turning around to head off toward her team’s sign.

           “Miss, don’t forget your ID!” the coordinator shouted after Felicity. “Oh! Right!” Felicity yelped as she rushed back over to the table to grab her ID before leaving again. “Wait a sec…” murmured Amber to herself, “Wasn’t Marjani also–” “–ID, please,” continued the coordinator, jolting Amber out of her thoughts. Amber placed her ID on the table wordlessly. “Amber… Amber…?” the coordinator furrowed her brow in confusion, “Miss, this… doesn’t have a last name on it?”

           “I know,” replied Amber, “Just look it up under that.” The coordinator flipped to the first page. “I’m not seeing anyone just named that,” she said, shaking her head, “I… I’m not sure I can help you. This is a real ID, right?” Amber sighed. “Are you sure it’s not under that?” she asked, “Maybe it’s at the very beginning or end of the list?”

           “Hey!” interjected another voice from the next line over, getting Amber’s attention. She glanced over before looking away, squeezing her eyes shut. Standing nearby with her hands on her hips and a cheeky grin on her face was none other than Caroline Humboldt, the captain of André’s former team, Spice Splat.

           “Try looking under ‘Blaine,’” she suggested. Amber glared at her furiously, her eyes widening in a combination of rage and surprise. The coordinator did as Caroline suggested, flipping to the next page of the ledger. “There it is, Amber Blaine, Team 21,” she tapped the page lightly as she spoke, “But why does your ID–” “–Don’t ask,” interrupted Amber, snatching her ID off of the table and walking toward the “21” sign. “What, no ‘thank you?’” asked Caroline casually, following after her. Amber whipped around, pointing her finger in Caroline’s face.

           “How did you find out about that?!” she seethed, gritting her teeth, “That’s not on my ID for a reason!” Caroline backed away slightly and held up her hands, her smile waning. “I read it on your official Turf War registration,” she replied sincerely, “I read up on you, Marjani, and Felicity when I found out about André’s new team, before our first match, to get a feel for what you three girls are like.” “You have no right!” hissed Amber angrily, turning around and walking away.

           “No, actually, I do have the right; it’s public information, after all,” retorted Caroline nonchalantly, putting her hands in her pockets and following Amber, “One responsibility of the captain is to learn about the enemy team. Usually, I leave the specifics to Moruga, but I like to know who I’m going up against. ‘Know your enemy, know yourself, and you will not lose a thousand battles,’ right?” “Ugh!” Amber grumbled disgustedly, glowering at Caroline as she continued.

           “What I don’t get is why,” continued Caroline, “Moruga and I looked into the name, thinking we might find something that would explain why you don’t want people knowing about it, but we didn’t find anything. Like, at all.” She quickened her steps to keep up with Amber’s increasing pace, the latter clearly annoyed with and trying to escape the older squid. “Why would you not want to be associated with a name that doesn’t have anything associated with it anyway?” she asked.

           “Because if I could have my way, I wouldn’t have it at all, but legally, I have to keep it!” retorted Amber angrily, “So don’t you dare go looking into it again!” “I don’t get it, you got some kind of beef with your family?” asked Caroline, “Look, you know that if you’ve got issues, you shouldn’t keep them bottled up, right? Talk about it with your team, you’ll feel better.” “I don’t want to feel better!” snapped Amber, “Now quit following me!”

           “I’m not following you, I’m just making small talk since we’re going to the same place,” Caroline corrected her. Amber stopped and squinted at her senior in confusion. “The same… what?” she asked. The red-tentacled girl pointed over to the sign for Team 21. Amber followed Caroline’s pointing to the sign itself, seeing André already waiting there, with Moruga Oaxaca, Caroline’s stone-faced right-hand man, standing right next to him. They seemed like they were practically ignoring each other, avoiding eye contact with their arms crossed.

           Amber looked back to Caroline in horror. “No…” she murmured, “No way… How… how did we…?” “When you’re in Turf War as long as I’ve been, you get some strings you can pull,” Caroline explained, “I got two of our teammates swapped with each other. Right about now, Marjani and Felicity should be meeting up with Jolokia and Butch.” “You… I cannot believe you!” exclaimed Amber, “You bitch! First you go digging into my private life, then you get us stuck together for the Splatfest?!”

           “Calm down,” bellowed Moruga sternly. “Don’t you tell me to calm down, you were probably in on this, too!” shouted Amber, “You rigged our coddamn Splatfest teams to scramble us together?!” “Amber!” rumbled André, finally breaking his silence, “…Let them say their piece.” “Not you, too!” growled Amber. Caroline stepped around Amber casually and looked her junior in the face. “Just relax,” she calmly started, “Look, Moruga and I’ve got some catching up to do with André, and I wanted to see how you play.”

           “You… what is it with you wanting to know more about me?!” asked Amber. “It’s my job as a captain,” retorted Caroline, “You should be doing the same, since this is going to give you an inside look at how Moruga and I play Turf War. I’m curious as to how you operate. I want to see you captain.” “Wait, what?!” asked Moruga, unfolding his arms and stepping forward. He walked over to Caroline and looked her in the eye.

           “Well, it’s not gonna be me,” argued Caroline simply, “I do enough of that, I want a break.” “Are yuh sure abou’ dis, Caroline?” asked Moruga, “I mean, me or André, I’d understan’, but Amber’s a tyro captain, a rookie. She’s got de leas’ Turf War experience of all of us; she’s only a captain ‘cause she made her own team.” Caroline smirked back at Moruga. “All the better for her to learn, then,” she countered, “Besides, Splatfests are just supposed to be fun, right?”

           Moruga sighed, putting his hands in his pockets. “Fun is one thing, but we also picked a side. Dey’re gonna be countin’ on us to pull our weight and give it all we got,” he argued, “Yuh think we’ll be juss as effective wit’ her givin’ orders instead of yuh?” “Trust me. She’ll be fine. One team of four isn’t going to sway the outcome that much. If Team Early Bird loses, it won’t just be because of us,” replied Caroline, “We’ve got a unique learning opportunity right now, Moruga, the kind you don’t get outside of Splatfests mid-season, and I don’t want to waste it.”

           Moruga was silent, but stared Caroline in the eye disapprovingly, knowing that his captain wasn’t going to back down, not in time for them to get to their first match. “…Fine,” he finally acquiesced, “But I’m keepin’ a close eye on her.” “That’s the spirit, crabcakes!” rejoiced Caroline, patting her teammate on the back as he sighed. Amber simply shook her head in sheer disbelief. “What is wrong with you?!” she asked, “I didn’t even say I wanted–”

           “–Well, it’s already decided,” interrupted Caroline, “Honestly, guys, stop taking it so seriously. Let’s get out there and splat some turf for Team Early Bird!” She turned to look at André and grinned. “And you, big guy,” she continued, pointing at him lazily, “You have got to tell me all about what you were doing for a year before you came back.” André sighed, but smirked. “If you’re trying to make it just like old times, Captain,” he muttered, “We can’t just go back. You know that.”

           “Whoa, what?” asked Amber, shooting a look at André, “You call her ‘Captain?’” André realized what he’d said and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Sorry,” he apologized, “Force of habit.” Amber shook her head and breathed in and out deeply, trying to process the situation. “But you just said…” she grumbled, “…Alright, whatever, we’ll do it your way, Humboldt. When’s our first match?” “Dat’s up to yuh to find out,” replied Moruga, having turned and walked a few steps away from her and Caroline, holding his hands behind his back. “I’ve never even been part of a Splatfest before,” protested Amber.

           “Clearly,” replied Caroline with a patient smile, “All you gotta do is listen for an announcement on the–” “–Teams 44 and 21 at Kelp Dome in ten minutes,” a voice blared over a loudspeaker before continuing to name other teams whose matches were coming up, “Teams 44 and 21, Kelp Dome in ten minutes.” “That’s… us,” muttered Amber reluctantly, “We know anyone who’s on Team 44?” “No clue,” replied André, “Won’t know until we see ‘em at the tower.” “Well, that makes a quick strategy meeting a little more screwed,” sighed Amber.

           Moruga simply huffed and crossed his arms quietly. “Got something to say?” asked Amber, shooting her interim sniper an irritated look. “Unpredictability is intrinsic ta Splatfests,” Moruga replied, speaking loudly and clearly to ensure he was heard, “It’s supposed to be part of de fun dat yuh don’t know who yuh gonna go against before de match.” Amber sighed and looked down at her feet, putting her hands on her hips. “Then I guess all we can do is figure out what we’re gonna do,” she accepted.

           “And that’s part of why I got the teams set up the way I did,” explained Caroline, “This way, Moruga and I have weapons types that you’re just as familiar giving orders to, a Charger and a Splatling. Just think of us like we’re Marjani and Felicity.” “I am not like Felicity,” interjected Moruga, “She is a vain child who does not recognize her own potential.” “Wonder how they’re doing,” muttered André, “You said they’re with Jolokia and Butch, right? Sure that was a good idea?” “They’ll be fine,” replied Caroline, grinning at André, “I can’t wait to find out which one they’re gonna pick to be captain.”

           “We’ll find out later,” replied Amber, “For now, we should get to the tower, we don’t have long before the match.” She turned toward Inkopolis Tower, adjusting the bag carrying her weapon on her hip, and set off before stopping briefly to turn back and look at the others, who were simply watching her. “Are you guys gonna follow me or what?” she asked. “Of course,” replied Caroline, “Aren’t we, boys?” Moruga sighed again before fixing the strap on his Charger’s bag so that it sat even more tightly on his shoulder.

           André took a few steps forward before stopping next to Moruga as Caroline followed after Amber. He looked down to Moruga, who reciprocated André’s uneasy glance for a moment before looking back ahead awkwardly and breaking eye contact as he began to follow after the girls. André sighed and hefted his Roller bag on his shoulder, shaking his head as he plodded behind the others, catching up in a matter of moments.

             “So… Caroline arranged for us to end up on teams together?” asked Felicity in confusion. “Yes, she wanted to–” Jolokia was interrupted as she started trying to explain her captain’s actions. “–Ugh, that fuckin’ bitch!” snarled Marjani, “What, did she think she was bein’ funny or some shit?” “Marjie, language,” Felicity reprimanded her teammate. “Squirt’s right,” added Butch, “Youse don’t know what da boss is like.”

           “I know she thinks she’s better than me!” retorted Marjani. “She is bettah den youse!” argued Butch. “Oh, yeah? And how do you know, Mafia Boy?” growled Marjani, puffing out her chest as she walked up to Butch, putting her finger on his chest in an attempt to intimidate him despite being a few inches shorter than him. “Marjani, please don’t bring that up,” pleaded Jolokia. Butch gritted his teeth and looked down at Marjani, tilting his head enough that he was now looking at her over the top of his 18K Aviators instead of through them.

           “‘Cause she’s da boss, and youse ain’t,” he replied threateningly, “And she put us on da same team ‘cause she trusts me ta be da boss while she’s away teachin’ your boss a little respect.” Jolokia took a few steps forward. “Now, hold on, Butch,” she protested, “Caroline didn’t say anything like that to me.” “I thought it was obvious, ain’t it?” asked Butch, “She wants me to captain–” “–With less years in Turf War than me?” Marjani disputed the boy’s assumption, “Yeah, right! I’m the Splatling user, just like her! If anyone’s gonna be captain, it should be me!”

           “Now, Marjani, I’m not sure that’s–” Jolokia was interrupted once more. “No, let’s just put it to a vote!” Marjani interjected, “That’s how you guys work, right? I vote for me!” “An’ I vote fuh me!” replied Butch. “Oh dear…” Jolokia hung her head as she shook it, “Well, then, I vote for myself, as well. Both of you are clearly too hotheaded and inexperienced.” “Wha–?! JP, I thought you’d have my back on dis!” protested Butch.

           “Great, now we’re at a stalemate,” replied Marjani. She stepped back from Butch and turned to look over to Felicity, who had been quietly avoiding the argument the whole time. Butch looked in the same direction as he realized what she was thinking. Jolokia looked in the same direction with a worried expression. Felicity shrank back as the others watched her expectantly. “Come on, Lissy, just vote for me, at least you know me!” Marjani urged her teammate with a smirk.

           “I-I… uh…” Felicity stammered. “If you know her, den you know she’s not captain material,” insisted Butch, stepping forward, “Come on, squirt, I’m obviously da one who should be in charge, right?” “Don’t pressure her!” countered Jolokia, stepping over to Felicity and placing a hand on Felicity’s shoulder, “Just ignore them, Felicity. Vote for who you really think is best suited to be captain. Or perhaps you’d like to lead us? If you want to, I’ll support it.”

           Felicity blushed as she tried to think of what to say. “Lissy? Come on,” Marjani repeated herself, pushing past Butch. “Zip it!” snarled Butch, stepping forward again. “Both of you, enough!” retorted Jolokia, stepping between them and Felicity as if to shield her from them, “Let her choose on her own!” Felicity looked between the three of them, clearly distressed from the responsibility of being the deciding vote. Marjani and Butch simply harrumphed and crossed their arms, almost in synchronization.

           “I-I think…” Felicity started. “Yeah?” Marjani and Butch both smirked as they watched her intently. “I… um…” Felicity stuttered, “Well… I…” Jolokia shot the other two a fierce, protective look as she waited for Felicity’s answer. Felicity looked down at her shoes, trying to come to a decision. She squeezed her eyes shut. She sighed as she realized that it would not be so easy for her to make a decision that would make everyone happy.

             Amber sighed and wiped the sweat from her brow as she and the others exited Inkopolis Tower for the third time. The Splatfest matches were in full force, and Team 21 had yet to win a single one, despite the combined experience of André, Caroline, and Moruga. Amber could feel their eyes on her as she tried to maintain her composure, knowing full well that with the amount of experience between the others, it was her own lack of skill as a captain that made her solely responsible for their three defeats thus far.

           While it was no different from the usual matches of the Outcasts, even with the team’s sniper and Splatling user replaced with ones of greater skill than Marjani and Felicity, the stress weighed heavily on Amber, and feeling as though Moruga and Caroline were constantly judging her every action made the losses sting even more than usual. She breathed heavily, turning to the others as another team of four passed by them to enter the tower.

           “It’ll be okay…” she tried to reassure herself quietly, “We’re just not used to being a team yet…” Caroline yawned and stretched. “I blame our team,” she stated nonchalantly. Moruga raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms behind his back, entering his usual rigid stance. “How so?” he asked irritably. “I mean Team Early Bird,” replied Caroline, interlacing her fingers and putting her hands behind her head, “We’re a team made completely out of squids who hate staying up late, and we’re playing in the middle of the night.”

           “Think it’ll get better as more Early Birds wake up and join the morning matches?” asked André, folding his arms. “Not if dey keep goin’ de way dey are,” retorted Moruga, glancing at Amber. Caroline shifted her gaze between her three teammates and sighed. “Amber, let’s go get some drinks at the café,” she suggested, clearly hoping to diffuse the tension, “You guys want anything? My treat.” “Grape soda,” replied André simply. “Coffee,” added Moruga, “Black.”

           “Got it,” replied Caroline, putting her hand on Amber’s shoulder as she began to turn around, “Let’s go.” Amber moved her arm slightly to brush Caroline’s hand off her shoulder dejectedly as she turned to follow her red-tentacled senior. André uncrossed his arms and glanced over to Moruga. He sighed as his teammate refused to look in his direction, maintaining his position as if he were guarding the ground on which he stood.

           “So…” André started awkwardly, “How’ve you been?” Moruga looked at André quizzically for a moment before resuming his forward stare. “Fine,” he replied simply. André nodded slowly as he looked away from Moruga. “We, uh…” he cleared his throat before continuing, “We haven’t seen each other since then. Other than that match a while back.” Moruga was simply silent, unable to think of something to say, though his expression betrayed that he was putting forth his best effort to do so. “I suppose… I didn’t really try to see you guys again,” continued André, “I’m partially to blame for that.”

           Unsure of how to continue, André simply looked to Moruga, who was still staring straight ahead, as if he was ignoring his teammate. “You know, you could at least look me in the eye, Moruga,” he added. Moruga huffed and shifted his stance so that he was now facing André, looking up into his teammate’s eyes. “Better?” he asked frankly, though with a hint of venomous sarcasm in his voice. Andre gritted his teeth, his mouth curling into a slight snarl, before he finally took a step forward and looked down to Moruga.

           “Dammit, Oaxaca, what the hell is your problem?!” he bellowed, “Here I am, trying to reconnect with you as a friend, and you won’t even look me in the eye without being asked to! I know things aren’t the same as they used to be, but will you at least try to pretend that we’re supposed to be friends?” Moruga furrowed his brow and squinted angrily.

           “My problem?” he asked incredulously, standing his ground, “My problem is dat we have been followin’ de orders of a complete rookie and have not won a single match yet! An’ in spite of all dat, yuh are tryin’ to make small talk like de entire last year never happened!” “You think I don’t know that?!” retorted André, “I know we can’t go back, but we can at least try to move forward instead of leaving these bridges burned!”

           “We can’t just forget what we did to yuh, André!” argued Moruga, “What I did to yuh! Not a day has gone by since den dat I haven’t regretted votin’ against yuh! It seemed like de most logical thing to do at de time, of course, to sacrifice de one for de good of de team, but it was just de opposite! I was throwin’ away a skilled player, all because we were lettin’ our worries and emotions about our reputation get in de way!”

           He let out a guttural sigh before continuing. “Butch has proven himself to be useful, but it’s not de same as when we had yuh! We ignored our friendship wit’ yuh and voted yuh off de team like it was easy for us!” he ranted, “I should have tied de vote wit’ yuh, and instead I destroyed what we had as friends and teammates and made yuh quit Turf War for a year! How can yuh not hate me for dat, André?!”

           André was taken aback my Moruga’s sudden outburst before furrowing his brow in confusion. “Wait, Moruga…” he murmured quietly, “Did you just say ‘tied the vote with me?’” “Yes, of course,” replied Moruga, “I should have tied de vote wit’ yuh. Do yuh not remember? Caroline said dat if de vote was split two-and-two, we would count it as bein’ in your favor and keep yuh on de team.” “I remember,” André confirmed, “…And you wouldn’t have tied the vote with me. I didn’t vote to stay on the team.”

           “Wha… yuh… wait, what?!” asked Moruga, his eyes widening in surprise, “What do yuh mean, yuh didn’t vote for yuhself? Dere were three votes against yuh and one for. Are yuh sayin’ dat yuh…?” “Voted against myself, yeah,” replied André, “The one vote for me to stay wasn’t mine.” “But den, if it wasn’t yuh, who…?” Moruga’s voice trailed off as he smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand and sighed. “Jolokia…” he murmured, “Of course, it must have been her… Even now, she still carries a torch for yuh…”

           “Moruga, the vote never mattered,” said André, “I probably would have left the team even if all three of you had voted for me to stay. You guys were never sacrificing me for the sake of your own reputations. I had to take one for the team, and you know that. But I knew that if I voted for myself, Jolokia would tie it, and then I wouldn’t be able to bring myself to leave. And now I can’t even look her in the eye without remembering that I broke her heart. So, you tell me: Why would I hate you for voting the same way I did?”

           Moruga sighed again as he processed what André had just revealed to him. “For a year… an entire year…” he muttered, “I thought we were responsible for destroyin’ yuh. For makin’ yuh quit Turf War entirely and cuttin’ off all contact wit’ us.” “I took a year off because I thought that I should distance myself from the sport,” replied André, “I wanted to keep playing, but I thought maybe it would be for the best if people forgot about me for a while. I quit wearing my Takoroka Mesh and told people to stop calling me ‘the Kraken’ so that maybe they wouldn’t be so quick to recognize me when I came back.”

           “Why would yuh do dat to yuhself?” asked Moruga, “We were a good team, André. Statistically speaking, one of de best. We should have stuck togeddah, reputation be damned!” “I know, and I wanted to so badly, Moruga,” agreed André, “But I also didn’t want to risk action being taken against us. If we tried to fight it, we risked the League forcing us to do what happened anyway; tearing us apart because of what others thought of us. This way, it was my choice. And I chose to live with it.”

           Moruga relaxed and dropped his arms. “An entire year…” he mumbled, shaking his head in disbelief, “I’ve wasted an entire year thinkin’ yuh hated me…” “I don’t blame you, Moruga,” replied André, “I never even tried to get back in contact with you guys, even after the dust settled. But now you know the truth, so…” He took a step forward and held his hand out. “Let’s try again,” he started. Moruga took his old friend’s hand with a grin and shook it.

           “How’ve you guys been, Moruga?” asked André. “As of late, we could be bettah,” replied Moruga as he let go of André’s hand, “We had to cancel a match last week ‘cause Jolokia came down wit’ somethin’. Yuh know how delicate she is; gets sick very easily.” “I remember,” replied André, smirking as he and Moruga looked away from each other and began to scan the plaza, watching for Caroline and Amber’s return.

           “Butch has been a handful,” continued Moruga, “He’s been gettin’ later and later for practices, always helpin’ his uncle wit’ who-knows-what. We try not to pry, but we’re worried for him. We think his uncle wants him to take over de family business, and we’re not sure what dat is.” “Hm,” André quietly acknowledged Moruga’s comment about his successor, “And Caroline?” “Yuh’ve seen for yuhself,” said Moruga, chuckling, “Same old girl as always. Unflappable, dat one. Even to a fault, I’d say.”

           André smiled at this as he spotted Caroline and Amber returning from the café, refreshments in hand. Before the two were within earshot, André turned to Moruga and lowered his voice. “Listen, Moruga, between you and me…” he whispered, “…Could you tell Jolokia that… that I’m sorry?” Moruga looked his friend in the eye and nodded. “She needs to hear dat, I think,” he said, “I’ll let her know.” “Thanks,” said André simply as the others arrived.

           Amber handed André his grape soda as Caroline held out Moruga’s coffee for him. André nodded in gratitude as he took the soda, engulfing nearly the entire bottle in his massive hand. “Careful, it’s hot,” Caroline warned Moruga as he took his coffee. “And de night is cold,” he quipped back, “Just de way I like it.” “You sure seem to be in a better mood, crabcakes,” murmured Caroline with her usual grin, “You two kiss and make up yet?”

           “Somethin’ like dat,” Moruga confirmed quietly as André’s soda hissed upon being opened. “Drink up fast,” Amber advised, “Our next match should get called pretty soon, I think.” There was a moment of silence as André and Moruga recalled where they were and what they were doing, having forgotten the Splatfest around them in the heat of their discussion. “Any second now…” Amber muttered, her already-shaky certainty waning. The awkward quiet resumed for a moment as the four of them each sipped their refreshments expectantly.

           “Teams 21 and 37 to Hammerhead Bridge in ten minutes,” the loudspeaker finally cut through the noise of the crowd of Inklings around the teammates before repeating itself, “Teams 21 and 37, Hammerhead Bridge in ten minutes.” “That’s our cue,” sighed Amber, raising her drink semi-confidently with a half-smile before her eyes widened. She looked up to André as a realization dawned on her. “A-André…” she stuttered, “Wasn’t Team 37…?!”

           André looked over to the purple “37” sign across the plaza to confirm what Amber was talking about, spotting the four members of Team 37 heading toward the tower. “Yeah, looks like it,” he sighed as he turned back to Amber, “The others. We’re going up against our own teammates.” Caroline raised both of her arms as high as she could excitedly. “Woo!” she shouted, “I was hoping this would happen! This is gonna be interesting!”

           André smirked and chuckled. “Moruga’s right, you’re as unflappable as ever,” he said. “He said that about me?” asked Caroline, turning to her right-hand man, who rolled his eyes and avoided her suggestive smile, “Have you boys been talking about us behind our backs?” “Only in passing,” André interjected, eliciting a disappointed pout from Caroline. “Guys, can we stay on track here?” asked Amber, “We are going up against our own teammates. This is… I mean, this could be–”

           “–All in good fun, of course,” interrupted Caroline, “Come on, let’s get going. I’ve got a good feeling about this one.” She picked up her Splatling’s bag and headed off in the direction of the tower before stopping. “Ah, wait,” she mumbled to herself as she turned around to face Amber, “Lead the way, Captain.” Amber sighed as she picked up her own weapon and walked past Caroline, trying not to shoot an angry glare at her easygoing teammate as she did, Moruga and André following behind.

             As the four rose out of the spawn point at Hammerhead Bridge, Amber surveyed their surroundings. The clear night sky was lit by a bright nearly-full moon, which was accompanied by fireworks going off on either side of the bridge, launched from small boats below. “Whoa…” she whispered, her voice barely audible as she marveled at the sight, “I’ve never seen this view at night…”

           “I’m surprised you can with those Tinted Shades,” replied Caroline, “If you took th–” “–Not a chance,” Amber snapped pointedly, “I’m not giving up Last-Ditch Effort.” Caroline simply shrugged. “Alright, if you say so,” she conceded, “I guess everything else with that is too expensive.” “Are you saying I–?!” Amber started, before catching herself and biting her tongue, “Never mind. Let’s just get ready for the match.”

           “Three!” a voice spoke over the loudspeaker system. “That was fast,” muttered Caroline, “It’s almost like you have a sixth sense for these things.” André cracked his neck and tightened the grip on his Roller. “Two!” the announcer continued. “My timing was off back at the plaza,” replied Amber, “I just get lucky sometimes.” “One!” the announcer called out a third time. “Ladies,” growled Moruga, “Focus, please.”

           “Go!”

           The team charged forward from the starting point. “Moruga, I want you on the upper path going straight down the middle!” barked Amber, “Caroline, take the right! André, drop to the lower path and get to the center! I’m taking the left and then I’ll join you!” “You got it, Cap!” said Caroline, giving a short salute as the teammates spread out toward the positions Amber had commanded.

           As Amber reached the end of the pathway she had taken, isolating her from her teammates, she could see that Jolokia and Marjani had already gotten to the center of the field in the lower area, inking it just as André arrived from the path he had taken. Moruga was lagging behind, unable to move quickly across the grates without being able to ink and swim along them in his squid form. “Marjani, get behind cover!” commanded Jolokia. Marjani quickly ducked behind a wall as André flicked his Roller in her direction, trying to catch her with his ink.

           “Your Inkstrike is ready! Fire on their right path!” continued Jolokia as she dodged André’s assault, pointing to direct Marjani, “Felicity, I need some cover fire down here!” Marjani fired off an Inkstrike as Felicity took aim at André. “Crap!” Amber dropped down to the lower area to try and back up André, only to be too late as Felicity released her shot, splatting him instantly. Marjani’s Inkstrike touched down on the end of the right path just as Caroline reached it, splatting her and sending her back to the spawn point with André.

           “Yes!” Amber could hear Marjani celebrating her minor victory over her senior Splatling user, “Finally!” “No, no, no, no!” Amber sprayed ink madly in front of herself as she tried to evade Felicity’s continued shots, “Come on, Moruga, where are you?!” She inked a pathway up the side of one of the support towers in the center area and swam up, just in time to see Moruga get splatted in front of her, covering her in the other team’s purple ink. Wiping her eyes clean, she had just enough time to see Butch swing his Inkbrush a second time, this time into her to finish her off.

           Moruga shook his head as he stepped off of the spawn point. He wasn’t used to being splatted as much as he’d been that night, and it wasn’t getting much easier to shake off the sensation. André and Caroline had already headed back toward the center to try and hold off the other team. “I’m gonna have to have a talk wit’ Butch when dis is over about how hard he hit me just now…” he mumbled to himself before stopping as he heard something behind him. As he turned back around, he saw Amber, on her knees with her weapon dropped on the ground in front of her, her arms wrapped around herself, and trying to halt her shaking and stifle her crying.

           Moruga took a few steps toward Amber. “Dere will be time for dat later, Amber,” he barked sternly, “Come on, let’s get back out dere.” “I-I can’t!” Amber sobbed. Moruga took a deep breath and bent over to pick up Amber’s weapon. “I-it doesn’t matter wh-who I’m on a team with!” Amber wailed, “I-it’s always the same! Every s-single time! I-I can’t win! I can’t be a c-captain! Moruga, please! J-just take over! I c-can’t do this!”

           Moruga held Amber’s weapon out to her. “Dat would be de easy way out,” he replied strictly, “On yuh feet. It’s not over yet.” Amber ignored Moruga’s outstretched hand as she continued bawling. Moruga took her weapon in his hands and began to inspect it more closely. “Yuh know, dis thing has fascinated me ever since we first looked into yuh Turf War registrations,” he mused, “Yuh are a rookie from out of town, but yuh own an Octoshot Replica. Dis weapon is only awarded to de best players. How did yuh get one wit’ no record to speak of?”

           Amber sniffled and stood up. “I-it was a hand-me-down from my teacher…” she muttered hoarsely, “He wanted me to have something to remember him by when I came to Inkopolis, so he gave me his old weapon…” “Yuh mentor was a high-rankin’ Turf War battler?” asked Moruga curiously. Amber nodded. “One of the best,” she murmured. Moruga furrowed his brow and curled his mouth into a slight frown.

           “Tell me somethin’, Amber,” Moruga said as he looked his stand-in captain in her eyes, “Would dis mentor of yours be proud to see yuh as yuh are now, turnin’ on de waterworks mid-match? Would ‘one of de best’ be glad to see his student actin’ like dis?” Amber sniffled and shook her head. Moruga held her Octoshot Replica out for her again. “Make him proud, Amber,” he instructed. Amber took her weapon from him and sighed.

           “I-it’s no use, though,” she whimpered, “No matter what I do, it seems like things always go wrong. I thought I understood the different kinds of weapons and the players who use them, how to take advantage of those and how to beat them. B-but every time, things somehow go wrong right away and we still lose. All my training… it was for nothing…” Moruga slung his Splatterscope onto his shoulder with its strap and put both of his hands firmly on Amber’s shoulders, gripping them just a little more tightly than was comfortable for her.

           “I see many flaws in yuh strategies, Amber, but dose are problems to be solved by experience, one by one. De one ting dat sticks out to me is dat yuh play as though yuh live on borrowed time,” he pointed out, more gently than he had been speaking up until then, “What is it dat yuh are waitin’ for? What has yuh so worried about where yuh’ll be when de clock runs out? Instead of focusin’ on de end, fight like you must hold de line for all eternity, and den yuh will muster de strength to do so.”

           Amber took a deep breath and sighed again. After a few moments, she held her weapon up firmly in her hand. “O-okay,” she stammered, the confidence in her voice slowly returning, “Change of plans, then. Moruga, I want you where I sent Caroline originally, on the right side. I know it’s not ideal and doesn’t give you good coverage of the left, but try to hold them off from there. I’m going back out there to give new orders to Caroline and André.”

           Moruga nodded and transformed into his squid form in synchronization with Amber, taking off through the ink as Amber performed a Super Jump to Caroline’s location. Seeing Amber heading her way, the veteran girl charged up her Mini Splatling and protected the area where Amber was set to land, casually splatting Marjani in the process. Amber landed next to her and immediately opened a barrage of fire on Felicity just above the two, splatting her temporary opponent.

           “Caroline, I need you up above on the grates!” shouted Amber urgently, her voice filled with resolve, “Keep as much of this area inked as you can! I’m going to cover Moruga’s blind spots on defense!” Wordlessly, Caroline smirked in understanding and ducked into her squid form, swimming up the side of a nearby wall and onto the upper path. “André!” shouted Amber, “What’s your location?” André swung his Roller at Jolokia, who dropped into her team’s ink and beat a hasty retreat, giving the giant squid a chance to ink the area.

           “Over here!” he bellowed in reply. “Focus on survival and turf coverage, not splats!” yelled Amber, “Build up your special and Super Jump to me!” André nodded and planted his Roller on the ground in front of him, dashing forward to cover up the purple ink of the opposing team. “Alright, Amber,” Amber whispered to herself, “No one gets through. No one gets through…” She took aim at Jolokia as the Slosher user neared her, out of Moruga’s range, the two of them each trying to cover the same turf.

           “I can’t get close…” she muttered to herself, looking around, “Where’s André?” As if on cue, her larger teammate crashed down just behind her, landing on both feet with a snarl on his face. “Kraken’s ready!” he shouted, sweeping his Roller horizontally over Amber’s head to try and fling ink in Jolokia’s direction. “Not yet!” barked Amber, “I need you to save it!” “Save it?!” asked André skeptically, “What for?!” Amber scanned the field as Jolokia retreated from the two and spotted Butch headed toward them, his Inkbrush on the ground.

           “Moruga, take aim at Butch!” shouted Amber across the field to the sniper. Moruga did as he was told. Butch noticed the laser sight from his senior’s Splatterscope dancing about his feet as Moruga tried to get a lock on him and simply laughed. “Hah! Not today!” he shouted before turning his gaze back to Amber and André. Butch’s tentacles gleamed in the dark of the night as André sidled up next to his teammate. “Watch it!” bellowed the latter, preparing himself to transform.

           “I said not yet!” repeated Amber, “Wait for it!” Butch raised his Inkbrush and began to transform into his squid form, growing in size and becoming a large purple Kraken. Amber watched closely as Felicity and Marjani closed in on the central area with Jolokia. “Whenever you’re ready!” insisted André as he and Amber backed up. Just as Butch’s Kraken form neared the two, Amber took a deep breath as time felt like it was slowing down. It was now or never.

           “Now!”

           André wasted no time tapping into his Kraken form, swelling to a massive size that dwarfed Butch’s counterpart. He immediately swam forward, roaring loudly through the waves of yellow ink crashing around him as he neared Butch. Just before the two could clash, Butch suddenly felt his power waning, and transformed back into his normal bipedal form, his 18K Aviators sliding down his nose slightly in surprise.

           “Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap!” he shouted as André crashed right through his position before he could get his Inkbrush on the ground and flee. “Butch!” cried Felicity as the ever-evasive Inkbrusher was unexpectedly splatted. “Get as many of ‘em as you can, André!” cheered Amber, covering turf around the central area as André began to pursue the others, “Moruga, you got your Killer Wail up yet?”

           “On your mark, Captain!” replied Moruga. “Let ‘er rip!” replied Amber, “Use the angle you’re at to cut off their escape and pick off anyone you can!” Moruga did as he was told and activated his special weapon, producing a Killer Wail, a large megaphone-like construct from within the ink around his feet and placing it down in front of him, aimed toward the small ramp out of the center area that the other team would have to use to elude André.

           A moment later, the Killer Wail sprang to life, blasting a wave of sound straight in the direction it had been pointed. Marjani froze up as she found herself trapped between André and the sound wave, being splatted by the former just before his special ran out. Felicity and Jolokia scattered in two other directions to try and escape the onslaught. Heading away from the direction of Moruga’s Killer Wail, Felicity climbed a wall onto the upper path, only to be greeted by a quick barrage of ink blots from Caroline’s Mini Splatling.

           As Jolokia fled André’s pursuing Roller, now opposite Amber’s position, she realized she was now briefly alone with all of her teammates splatted. Glancing to her left, she suddenly found herself being hit by a blast of ink from Moruga’s Splatterscope from her left side. An explosion of yellow ink splattered around the ground where she’d been standing as she was sent back to the team’s spawn point.

           “They’re all down! Now’s our chance!” commanded Amber as the team inked turf in the direction of the opposing team’s base, “Caroline, if your Bomb Rush is ready, save it for when they get back! We need to keep them on the ropes and on their toes now that we’ve got the advantage!” The battlefield quickly began to turn yellow as the team pushed forward, the line roughly separating the two sides moving forward all across the map as Team Early Bird pushed forward.

           “Here they come!” Caroline called out, spotting their four opponents making their way back onto the field, the charge led by an ornery-looking Butch. “Everyone, get ready for round 2!” shouted Amber, “Don’t give them an inch!” All of a sudden, a loud whistle rang out through the battlefield. “No need!” replied Moruga, lowering his Splatterscope with a smile, “It’s over.” Several of the eight squids all breathed a collective sigh of relief, Amber in particular falling back and simply sitting in the ink as she panted.

           “Amber!” said Caroline as she dropped down from above, “It worked! Getting all four of them splatted at once gave us enough time to turn the match around. We just won by 3%!” Exhausted and relieved, Amber began to uncontrollably giggle as she realized how far the team had managed to push into the Night Owls’ territory. “Grouping yourself together with André as bait and having Moruga get Butch to waste his Kraken,” continued Caroline, “That was ballsy! I love it!” Moruga and André regrouped with the team as their four opponents all joined them.

           “Aggh! Butch, what is wrong wid youse?!” cried Butch, throwing his head back as he placed his hands on either side of it as if to squeeze it in some form of self-punishment, “Youse let da Kraken getcha dis time!” “Man, I told you I shoulda been captain!” insisted Marjani. “Oh, hush, Marjie!” retorted Felicity, “That was the first match we’ve lost so far, and it won’t be the last. Jolokia’s been a good captain.” “Thank you, Felicity,” replied Jolokia, “I’m not used to this, so it’s reassuring to hear that.”

           André breathed a sigh of relief as he hefted his Roller up onto his shoulder. “Not bad,” he rumbled, “Not bad at all. It was risky, but you made the right call at just the right time. I had no idea what you were thinking, but your gamble paid off.” He reached his free hand to Amber to help her stand up. She took it and let him pull her to her feet, ignoring the ink dripping off of her clothes. “Thanks, André,” she panted. Caroline waded through the ink to give Amber a hug. “I told you that you could do it, girl!” she exclaimed, “I said I had a good feeling about this one!”

           Amber sighed as she reluctantly reciprocated Caroline’s hug for a few moments before they separated. “Yeah, you did,” she muttered, unsure of what else there was to say. She turned to the other team. “Nice to see you guys,” she said, “Good game.” “The same to you,” replied Jolokia, “You seem to be coming into your own as a captain nicely.” Amber quietly smirked, trying to hide her smile. “I had some help,” she muttered sheepishly.

           “Eh, fuggedaboutit,” retorted Butch, having calmed down, “Give yourself at least a little credit, eh, rookie?” Amber smiled as she glanced over to Moruga, who calmly nodded at her, struggling with himself to maintain his stoic image and avoid returning her infectious grin in full. “Alright, guys, it’s about time for us to clear out for the next match,” interjected Caroline, “Good luck out there, Night Owls. We’ll catch up with you guys after the Splatfest is over.” The two teams separated, heading back toward their own spawn points to return to Inkopolis Tower.

           “You’re getting better at this, huh, Captain?” mused André, fighting the fatigue in his rumbling voice. “Looks like it,” replied Amber quietly, “I guess I just… needed someone to have faith in me. Maybe… I can be a captain after all.” “I sure hope so,” Caroline chimed in, “It’s the whole reason I wanted you to take charge from the start, so we could draw out some of that potential.” “Watch yourself, Humboldt,” Amber warned her, smirking at her senior, “Keep it up and someday I’m gonna be a better captain than you.”

           Caroline simply laughed in response. “That’s the idea,” she agreed, “Turf War’s barely any fun when no one can give me a run for my money. You’ve still got a ways to go, girl, but you’re finally on your way, so don’t you dare give up.” “Be careful what you wish for,” Amber cautioned her, “‘Cause you’re gonna regret wanting to make a rival out of me someday.” “We’ll see,” Caroline asserted, “But for now, let’s just have a little more fun, huh?”

           Amber nodded and sighed contentedly as the team arrived at their spawn point. The Splatfest was far from over, but somehow, through all the chaos, pain, and heartbreak that had happened thus far, one small victory had turned everything around, and Amber had discovered a new vigor that would keep driving her to the end of the festival. She knew that time would tell if she would have the mental fortitude to maintain this resolve through the hard times no doubt lying in wait for her beyond the Splatfest, but she would put everything she had into holding that line as though the end would never come.

 SPLATOON: THE OUTCASTS

EPISODE END

             André opened the door to the bedroom in his apartment, sighing as he flicked the light switch on. As the Splatfest had gone on into the night, the four members of Team 21 had eventually gone back home to catch a few hours of sleep before resuming their matches the next morning, playing through the day into the following evening and only stopping for quick meals. The results for the Splatfest had been announced later that night at the closing ceremony, and while Team Early Bird had ultimately lost the competition, André felt a sense of fulfillment from having participated.

           He set his Roller bag down on the floor, sat down on his bed, and began undoing the laces on his large Tan Work Boots, eventually removing them and the socks underneath. The feeling of the cool air in his apartment against his worn, tired feet was something he looked forward to every day. He exhaled deeply again as he flexed his toes, stretching his feet in ways he’d not been able to during the long day of matches he’d just endured.

           He reached down and grabbed his custom-sized Splatfest tee from the bottom, removing it and leaving himself shirtless on his bed. “Hope Moruga remembers to talk to Jolokia…” he muttered, “…Wish I could figure out what to say to talk to her myself, though.” He breathed deeply and sighed again as he turned and laid down across his bed. “Finally,” he whispered to himself, “Peace and quiet. No more noise.”

           In a small bedroom somewhere in the Flounder Heights condominium complex stood a young Inkling. His blue eyes pierced the monotony of his light skin, and his pink tentacles were tucked under a Zekko-brand Backwards Cap. He was wearing a Camo Layered LS – a white t-shirt over a long-sleeved camo-patterned shirt – and blue Mawcasins matching the shade of his eyes almost exactly. He breathed deeply as the CD player in front of him whirred quietly, set to replay the same song he’d been practicing his dance routine to all morning.

           As the song started up, he bobbed his head to the beat for just a moment before beginning to dance. The lyrics to the song filled his room as he moved in time with the music: “Chasin’ after you, ‘cause I’m ready, ready, ready, ready for ya,” sang the familiar voice of the peppy Inkopolis idol Callie, “Makin’ my way there, ‘cause I’m ready, ready, gotta make a move…”

           “So then, so then won’t you just look at me? I need somebody to make me feel loved, and I want it to be you, only you, you, why can’t it be you?” the vocals continued as the young boy tried to ignore the sweat on his brow, “Your Bomb Rush always makes me blush, when I’m in their ink movin’ slowly, you’re comin’ for me, come help me, come rescue me from them, I’ve fallen for you–” As the Inkling boy spun around, he spotted something that startled him, causing him to suddenly cease dancing and scramble to press the stop button on his CD player in embarrassment, cutting the song short.

           Standing in his previously-closed bedroom doorway was a serene-looking Inkling woman in a light blue floral-patterned sun dress, her tentacles the same shade of pink as his. Her soft pink eyes, unlike the boy’s blue, matched her tentacle color. She was leaning against the doorframe with her arms folded, smiling warmly. “M-mom!” stuttered the boy, “H-how long were you–?!” “You don’t have to stop, that was adorable!” insisted the boy’s mother, “That’s one of the new Squid Sisters solo songs, right?”

           The boy held his hands together behind his back and looked down at his feet, clearly embarrassed. “Y-yeah,” he whispered, “Th-the first live performance is at the Splatfest next week, and I wanted to be able to dance along. I-I’ve memorized the moves from the music video, b-but I wanted to blend into the crowd… I-I can’t dance when someone’s watching…” “I’m sorry,” apologized the boy’s mother, standing up straight before continuing, “I just wanted to let you know that your friends are here, sweetie.”

           “M-my friends?!” asked the boy frantically. “Oh, sorry!” the boy’s mother attempted to correct herself, “Your teammates.” “Friends, teammates, same thing. I-I just wasn’t expecting them this early…” replied the boy, reassuring his mother that she wasn’t in error, “I thought I still had another half hour before I had to get ready for practice… What time is it…? Um… C-can you tell them that I need a little time to get ready?”

           The boy’s mother smiled and nodded, turning to leave. She paused and furrowed her brow slightly, a pensive look suddenly clouding her gracile features, before turning back to her son with a quizzical look. The boy shrank back, uncertain of her thought processes. “Sweetie… Do they…” his mother began to ask, “Do your teammates not know, Felix?” Felix blushed and bit his lip, avoiding eye contact with his mother. He began fidgeting uncomfortably, silently giving her the answer for which she was looking.

           “Honey…” she said softly, “You can’t just leave them in the dark forever.” “I-I know, but…” the younger Inkling’s voice trailed off as his mother approached him. She knelt down to his eye level and put her hand on his shoulder comfortingly. “I know you don’t want to, but you’re growing up, and your body is still changing. Keeping it private is only going to get harder,” she continued, “Now, I’m not saying you have to march out there right this minute and show them who you are, but just… try to keep it in mind, okay?”

           “I-I just don’t want them to kick me out of the team…” murmured Felix, his voice cracking as he looked down shamefully. His mother furrowed her brow in concern. “Why would they kick you out of the team, sweetie?” she asked. “B-because they…” the boy tried to respond, choking back tears, “Because th-they might think I-I’m a… a freak.” His mother shook her head. “Your teammates aren’t exactly ‘normal’ themselves; I don’t think they’re at liberty to think that of you,” she argued, “And if they do have a problem with you being you, then maybe they’re just the kind of people you don’t need in your life anyway.”

           Felix looked up to his mother in distress. “B-but what if–?” he began to ask, before being silenced by his mother putting a finger to his lips. “No ‘what ifs.’ Don’t worry about the things you can’t control,” she reassured him, “You are not a freak; you’re my child. I will always love you, whether you’re Felix or Felicity, and I will never pressure you to choose one or the other.” She kissed his forehead lightly before standing back up. “…Thanks, Mom,” Felix sighed as his mother began to leave the room again.

           “I’ll make some tea and have them wait for you in the living room. You go ahead and primp,” Felix’s mother added, turning back around, “Let me know if you need any help with your makeup.” Felix nodded, smiling for the first time since she’d entered the room. “Mm-hmm!” he smiled, “I’ll try not to keep everyone waiting!” The boy walked over to his closet and began rummaging through it, removing a recently-washed and ironed School Uniform, complete with a plaid pink skirt. He walked over to the door to his bedroom, poking his head out briefly, before heading across the hallway to the upstairs bathroom of the apartment.

             Marjani yawned as she, André, and Amber waited silently in the living room. André had busied himself with studying the brightly-lit apartment, glancing around with his arms crossed as he leaned back next to Marjani on the two-seater couch. Amber was on her phone, checking her e-mail as she sat adjacent to the two in a recliner. “Hey, what time is it, Cap?” asked Marjani. “10:12,” replied Amber without looking up.

           “Man,” groaned Marjani, “You guys came to get me early, and I coulda been sleepin’ in with how long she’s takin’…” “Had to make sure you’d be there,” retorted André simply as he spied the artwork hanging on the wall behind the balcony overlooking the living room, “No more skipping practice, remember?” Marjani rolled her eyes and sighed. “Yeah, yeah, I know,” she grumbled, scratching her nose, “I said I’d be there, though, can’t you guys just trust me?”

           “You just said you could have been sleeping in right now,” interjected Amber, “And right now, we should be in the middle of practice.” Marjani shrank back and put her hands in her pockets in embarrassment. “W-well, yeah, but it ain’t even my fault,” she protested, trying to change the subject back to Felicity’s tardiness. She winced as André finally looked at her, though simply raising his eyebrow without comment. “…Lissy’s got some pretty sweet digs, huh?” she asked sheepishly. André nodded, once again looking away from her.

           “Yeah,” he agreed, “Something’s bugging me, though…” “What is it?” asked Amber. André narrowed his eyes, deep in thought, before shaking his head. “Never mind,” he deflected, “Think I figured out what it is.” “What was it?” asked Marjani, “Don’t leave us hangin’ like that!” André shook his head again. “Just thought something Felicity said before didn’t add up,” he replied before repeating himself, “But I figured it out.” Marjani squinted and cocked her head slightly in confusion. “Figured what ou–?” she began.

           “–Sorry about the wait,” interrupted Felicity’s mother, re-entering the room with a pristine porcelain teapot in hand, “Here you are.” Amber and André leaned forward to pick up their teacups, which had been set on saucers on the table in front of them, so that their hostess could fill them. “No thanks,” declined Marjani, still leaning back into the couch.

           “It’s rude to refuse, you know,” André admonished her, setting his now-filled cup back on its saucer so it could steep while resting back into the couch again. “Oh, that’s alright, André. Tea can be an acquired taste,” interjected Felicity’s mother as she filled Amber’s teacup. “Thank you, Mrs. Quinn,” said Amber as she set her teacup down. “Ms. Quinn,” Felicity’s mother replied with a smile, gently correcting Amber before putting her hand to her cheek embarrassedly, “Oh, dear, I’m sorry. I keep forgetting I’m not as young as I used to be.”

           “That reminds me,” André grunted, putting one hand on his knee as he leaned forward again, “Felicity never talks much about her dad. Is Mr. Quinn…?” Ms. Quinn inhaled subtly in surprise, and her smile vanished for a moment before she composed herself. “There… is no ‘Mr. Quinn.’ Felicity’s father… Mr. O’Bryne… doesn’t live with us anymore,” she explained, “He and I… divorced about a year ago.” “Oh… I-I…” André stuttered, “I’m sorry. I… didn’t mean to open old wounds.”

           “So ‘Quinn’ is actually…?” Amber began to ask. “My maiden name, yes,” Ms. Quinn confirmed, “Felicity took it when I had mine changed back. Fingal… Mr. O’Bryne tried very hard, but… he just wasn’t ready to be a father.” “Rough,” Marjani remarked coarsely. “Marjani!” snapped Amber, shooting Marjani a harsh, incredulous look. “What? It is!” insisted Marjani. “You could at least be a little more considerate with how you word it!” replied Amber.

           “It’s alright,” replied Ms. Quinn, looking down into her teacup, “It hasn’t been easy, yes. But Felicity’s been… she’s been happier since then. She… was never very close with him. She’s really come out of her shell a lot without him around. Seeing her the way she is now… She makes it all worth it.” “Lissy? Outta her shell?” asked Marjani, “If this is her outta her shell, she musta been practically nonexistent before.”

           Ms. Quinn laughed softly. “Something like that,” she confirmed, smiling proudly, “You should see her now, though. She’s become so much more energetic and excitable. Just a little while ago, I found her dancing to that new Squid Sisters song. What’s it called again? Bomb Rush something…?” “Bomb Rush Blush?” asked Amber, “I’ve heard it.” “That’s the one. Felicity loves it,” continued Ms. Quinn, “She’s already memorized all the dance moves from the music video for the Splatfest next week.”

           “Oh, man, that’s right, the Splatfest is next week already!” exclaimed Amber before taking a sip of her tea, “Has Felicity mentioned what team she’s planning on joining?” “Not that I’ve heard,” Ms. Quinn noted, “Although, I think she said that she wanted to ask you three, so that you could all be on the same team together.” “What are the teams, anyway?” asked Marjani, “I totally spaced and forgot about the whole thing.”

           “‘Early Bird’ and ‘Night Owl’,” interjected André, “We should probably join–” “–Hi, guys!” shouted a voice from the balcony above the living room. Standing there, dressed up, made up, and with her Squiffer slung over her shoulder in its carrying bag, was Felicity, beaming at the trio below. “Sorry I was late!” Felicity exclaimed, making her way down the spiral staircase to join the others, “I totally lost track of time!”

           “At least it wasn’t me for once,” replied Marjani, standing up, “C’mon, guys, we goin’ or what?” “I’m not done with my tea,” retorted Amber, “Hold on a minute.” “Ugggh, do we wanna get to practice or not?!” groaned Marjani, “Will you guys get your fuckin’ story straight?!” “Marjie, language!” Felicity interjected curtly, “Especially in front of my mother.” Ms. Quinn quietly laughed at this, causing Felicity to beam at her proudly. “You’d be surprised, Mom,” she grinned, “Marjie might seem pretty rough, but she’s actually a big softie.”

           “H-hey!” protested Marjani, leaping to her feet, “Th-that’s not true!” “She scared me a little at first, but I’ve got a pretty good handle on her now,” added Felicity sweetly, “I’m curbing her cursing habits, bit by bit.” “Y-you’re lucky you’re cute, you know that, cupcake?” grumbled Marjani, crossing her arms in embarrassment while Felicity giggled. “Alright, that’s enough, you two,” Amber intervened, standing up and setting her empty teacup down on its saucer, “Thanks again for the tea, Ms. Quinn.” “My pleasure,” replied Ms. Quinn with a smile, “It’s been lovely getting to meet you all.”

           André finally stood up, towering over all four of the others in the room as his teammates headed down an adjacent hallway ahead of him. “Have fun out there, sweetie!” Ms. Quinn called after them, “And be safe!” “I will, Mom!” Felicity promised as the others picked up their respective weapon bags and slung them over their shoulders before making their way out the door one-by-one.

           Alone in the now-peaceful living room, Ms. Quinn inhaled the smell of her tea deeply, sighing with a smile before standing up. She walked over to the window, taking in the sunlight happily. “You’ll be fine,” she reassured herself, as if still speaking to her child, “You’ll make me proud, no matter what you choose.”

             André placed his hand on his shoulder and lifted his right arm, rolling and rotating it to work out the kinks in his muscles. “You okay, André?” asked Amber, “That’s the third time you’ve done that since we left.” “You didn’t hurt yourself, did you?” asked Felicity worriedly. “Nah, just stiff,” André assured them, downplaying the implications of his actions, “Still trying to shake off the rust, been slow to get back in the game. Slower than I expected, anyway.”

           “You’re sure?” asked Felicity, “You swing your Roller awfully hard, you shouldn’t overexert yourself.” Marjani cleared her throat quietly before speaking up. “Yeah, the last thing we need’s for you to have to sit out a match because you went and tore somethin’,” she agreed, “Were you just not trainin’ all last year? Lose your edge and all that?” “I’m alright, guys,” replied André reassuringly, “…I appreciate the concern, though.”

           Amber led the quartet into Café Cardamari, the same place they’d first met each other that had become their routine post-practice hangout. Having started their two-hour practice late, they had just missed the lunch rush and would hopefully be able to enjoy a little peace and quiet compared to the usual hustle and bustle. A few squids were seated around the café, all quietly minding their own business.

           “Hello!” the waitress greeted the group as they entered, “Welcome to Café Cardamari!” Her pink tentacles gleamed in the soft sunlight shining in through the windows, but her most striking feature was the eyepatch over her left eye. None of the Outcasts knew the details, but the younger of the two waitress sisters who worked in the family-owned business had supposedly lost her left eye due to a spawn point mishap in her first Turf War match, quitting the sport immediately after.

           “Hey!” added an excited voice from across the café, before its source, a dark-skinned Inkling, stood up and made his way over to the group. “There’s two of my favorite ladies!” continued the boy, “Lookin’ fresh, as usual!” Marjani’s younger brother Tendaji, or “Dodge,” was a DJ for Turf Wars, and had been introduced to her teammates since their rough outset. “Hi, Dodge,” Amber greeted him, smirking and secretly rolling her eyes behind her sunglasses. “You guys here for lunch?” asked Dodge with a smirk, shifting his gaze to Felicity, “How about I pay for yours, Lissy?” “Only Marjie gets to call me that, Dodge,” Felicity giggled in response.

           “Aw, c’mon, I’ve got the–!” Dodge was interrupted by Marjani grabbing his left ear and giving it a tug, yanking him away from her teammates. “Ow, ow!” he protested, flailing his hands toward his sister’s in a frantic attempt to undo her tight grip, “H-hey, I need that! C’mon, Sis, I give up!” “What part of ‘off-limits’ don’t you get?” asked Marjani, “I said you don’t get to flirt with my teammates!” “I can’t help myself!” retorted Dodge as Marjani finally released him, “She’s just so dang cute!” Felicity, though clearly flustered and blushing, giggled at this, holding one of her tentacles sheepishly.

           “Let’s sit,” André stepped in, “Mind if we join you at your table, Dodge?” “Not at all, André, my man!” exclaimed Dodge, putting his hands in his pockets, “Right this way!” As the five sat down together, Dodge grinned. “I don’t know how you do it, André, my man,” he continued, putting his hands behind his head. “…Do what, exactly?” asked André, “…Wait, do I want to know?” “You’re on a team with three girls and no competition!” explained Dodge, smirking, “How have you not asked one of ‘em out yet?” “H-hey!” objected Marjani. “How do you know I haven’t?” André calmly retorted.

           “W-wait, you–?!” asked Marjani incredulously, turning to André, then glancing at Felicity and Amber to see their reactions. “Was it–?!” she stammered. “–Not me,” interrupted Felicity simply, shaking her head. “Then–?!” Marjani pointed to Amber in surprise. “He’s messing with you, Marjani,” replied Amber, keeping her arms crossed, “Unless there’s something you want to tell us.” “I’ve moved on from that,” added André, leaning forward to look Dodge in the eye, “Got more important things to worry about, and my brain’s above my belt.”

           Dodge raised his finger and breathed in sharply as though he was about to counter André’s point, before sighing and dropping his hand again in defeat. “Yeah, alright,” he acquiesced, “Different subject, then.” He perked back up, leaning forward to put his elbows on the table and clapped his hands together. “Oh, yeah, that’s right, I haven’t seen you guys since before the new Squid Sisters singles dropped!” he exclaimed.

           “And?” asked Marjani, raising an eyebrow as she leaned back and folded her arms. “It means I’m not under NDA anymore!” replied Dodge excitedly. “Wait, an NDA? You mean–?!” Felicity began to ask, her eyes and smile widening simultaneously. “Yeah! My boss was originally supposed to help out the day they were recordin’ the new songs, but…” continued Dodge, separating his hands, “He accidentally scheduled a family vacation over the date, so yours truly got to fill in and record for the Squid Sisters!”

           “That’s so cool!” blurted Felicity, a little louder than she probably should have, “You got to meet the Squid Sisters?!” Dodge nodded. “Indeed I did, little missy!” he replied proudly, only for Marjani to grab his ear once more, “Ow! Sis, I said ‘little missy,’ not ‘Lissy’! Let up, will ya?!” “I said quit flirtin’!” snapped Marjani. “I wasn’t, I wasn’t!” replied Dodge, “She’s just a fan!”

           “Cut him a little slack, Marjani,” Amber scolded her teammate, smirking slightly at the odd relationship between the two siblings. “As I was sayin’,” continued Dodge as Marjani let go and sat back in her own seat, “I didn’t just meet the Squid Sisters, I actually got Marie’s number.” He folded his arms haughtily with a grin. “Then what are you doin’ hittin’ on Lissy?” Marjani questioned him cynically.

           “W-well… it’s not like I got her number like that,” replied Dodge, scratching the back of his head nervously, “Sh-she just said they owed me one for standin’ in, and that I could call in a favor if there was somethin’ they could help with.” Amber nodded in understanding. “So, it’s more of a ‘we’ve got influence if you need it’ thing than a ‘call me’ thing,” she corrected Dodge’s statement in realization. “No need to rub it in…” muttered Dodge, hanging his head before bouncing back, “Still, a gig with the Squid Sisters is huge! It’s my next step toward a music career!”

           “I thought you already had a pretty sweet job, Dodge,” added Amber, “Not comfortable at the top of Inkopolis Tower?” “I-I mean, the DJ gig’s cool, too,” Dodge maintained, “I just want to make my own music instead of playin’ someone else’s, you dig?” André nodded. “Good to have ambition,” he agreed, “Gotta find what you love and go after it.” “See, this guy gets it!” added Dodge, gesturing toward André.

           “Alright, alright, let’s get something to eat, we’re all starving,” replied Amber, “Dodge, you’re paying, yeah?” “Yeah, I–” Dodge started before realizing what Amber had just asked, “–Wait, all four of you guys?” “You’re the best, Dodge,” Amber smirked. “Now wait just a sec!” protested Dodge. “What? Pockets not deep enough, Bro?” asked Marjani, “I thought you were rollin’ in it from this Squid Sisters gig?” Felicity clapped her hands together and put on her best puppy-dog eyes. “I so want to hear more stories about what the Squid Sisters were like!” she insisted, “But I might pass out if I don’t eat something soon!”

           Dodge felt himself begin to blush profusely at the sight of Felicity, though his dark skin tone concealed it from the others. “Alright, that’s enough, girls,” rumbled André, putting his giant hand on Felicity’s shoulder with a smirk, “Don’t take advantage of the poor kid. Dodge, I’ll pay for Amber and Marjani if you cover Felicity like you said.” “Deal,” blurted Dodge in relief as Amber flagged down the waitress to bring over a few menus.

             Marjani locked her fingers together and stretched them above her head before belching loudly. She was lagging behind Amber and Felicity with André and Dodge at her sides. “Ugh, seriously, Marjani, at least cover your mouth,” Amber sneered disgustedly, glancing back over her shoulder. “Sorry, Cap,” replied Marjani with a smirk, “Just kinda slipped out.” “C’mon, you always say that, Sis,” interjected Dodge.

           “Shh! They don’t know that!” hissed Marjani as the group arrived at the metro station. Dodge chuckled and cleared his throat. “Alright, well, I’ll see you guys later,” he said, putting his hand in his pocket. “You’re not taking the metro with us?” asked Felicity, cocking her head slightly. “Nah, my apartment is actually really close to here,” replied Dodge, “Just thought I’d see you guys off.”

           Marjani put her arm around her brother’s shoulder and pulled him in for a hug that he reciprocated. “See ya later, Bro,” she murmured, “And congrats on the Squid Sisters gig.” “Thanks,” replied Dodge as the two separated. “Hold on,” said André, furrowing his brow as he looked down the steps into the metro, “Looks like a pretty big crowd down there. Might be something going on.”

           The others gathered around him and looked down the steps, seeing the congregation to which he was referring. The usual commotion of the afternoon rush paled in comparison to the chaos that was unfolding in front of the five. “What’s going on down there…?” asked Amber curiously, looking to the others if they had any ideas. “Only one way to find out,” replied André, making his way down the stairs. The other four followed after as André arrived at the bottom and began to scan the crowd.

           “What’s all this about?” asked Dodge, raising an eyebrow. “Metro’s closed down,” explained a nearby Inkling leaning up against a wall, speaking up just loudly enough for the group to hear him over the cacophony of the crowd. “Did something happen?” asked Amber, “Oh, cod, don’t tell me someone ended up on the tracks…” “No, not that they know of,” replied the other Inkling, “Cops are trying to catch some shmuck who thought he could get a free ride by hanging off the back end of the train.”

           “Off the…?” Marjani’s voice trailed off as she repeated the Inkling’s words quietly in surprise. “Any idea who it was?” asked Felicity. “Word’s going around that people were seeing some red-head in a black suit,” replied the Inkling, “You’d think a guy like that would stand out like a sore thumb, but they’re saying he just up and vanished when the train got to its next stop.” Amber raised an eyebrow and glanced into the crowd, scanning the legion of stranded Inklings.

           “Red… tentacles?” asked Dodge, “What, like Team Spice Splat?” Felicity, Amber, and Marjani all looked to André, who, growing uncomfortable as if he could feel their inquiring stares, finally glanced over at them and raised an eyebrow. “What, think it was someone from Caroline’s family, natural red like her?” he questioned, before shaking his head, “She doesn’t have any relatives here in Inkopolis, and her family’s not the only one in the world with red tentacles.”

           “I doubt that arrogant bitch’s family has anything to do with this, then,” interjected Amber, turning to leave, “Come on, if the metro’s closed, we’re probably better off hoofing it.” Marjani and Dodge began to follow her. “Hold up,” André interrupted, placing his hand on Felicity’s shoulder, “Felicity lives on the other side of town.” “And…?” asked Amber. “Shouldn’t be walking that far by herself,” explained André, “We all live closer to here than she does.”

           “He’s got a point,” agreed Dodge, “Lissy, how about I–!” “Don’t even say it!” shouted Marjani, grabbing her brother’s ear again. “Ow! Ow! Seriously, Sis!” protested Dodge. “You live the closest of us all, Dodge,” argued André, “I’ll get her home.” “H-hey, don’t I get a say in this?” objected Felicity. “I’m not comfortable with you walking all that way alone,” André insisted simply, “It’s far, and last I remember, you’re a little hazy on directions.”

           Felicity blushed and bit her lip in shame, knowing André was right. “A-alright, fine,” she caved, “I-I appreciate the company anyway.” André held his hand out for Felicity, and she giggled quietly as she placed her small, petite hand into his palm, his large fingers completely enveloping hers. “Man, André, you are just bustin’ my chops here,” grumbled Dodge, folding his arms, “Alright, whatever, guys, I’m out. See ya ‘round.”

           Dodge turned and walked back toward the steps, waving over his shoulder to the others as he headed up back to ground level, the others following a short distance behind him. “Take care, guys,” said Amber as they reached the top of the steps, breaking away from the group, “See you later.” “Yeah, later,” Marjani reciprocated the sentiment nonchalantly as she likewise went her own way. After a few moments of silence, Felicity looked up to André and beamed. “Just you and me now,” she said, “Peace and quiet at last.”

           “Yeah,” chuckled André with a subtle smile, “Peace and quiet.” “You know, you don’t have to hold my hand,” added Felicity. “Yeah, just wanted Dodge to cut it out,” replied André as he let go, “Kid needs to learn when to stop.” “Ugh, you’re telling me,” Felicity griped as the two began walking down the sidewalk, “I mean, I know I’m cute, but he needs to realize I’m not interested in being his arm candy.”

           André laughed a little more heartily than usual at that comment. “What?” asked Felicity incredulously, quickening her pace to keep up with André’s large strides, “It’s true!” “No, not that,” smirked André, “You just… don’t always show this side of yourself around the others.” “…This… side?” asked Felicity, her eyes widening. “You can be a real firecracker sometimes,” replied André, “You haven’t noticed?” Felicity blushed again. “I-I just feel more comfortable around you, that’s all,” she explained, “You’re like the big brother I never had.”

           “I feel the same way,” André concurred, “I don’t have any siblings, either. And between the three of you, if I’m being honest, you’re the only one that doesn’t put me on edge half the time.” “The three of…?” Felicity asked as she blinked a few times, “Oh, me, Amber, and Marjani, yeah. What do you mean by being ‘on edge,’ though?” “Marjani’s… well, obvious,” continued André, “Amber… Well, she’s got heart, but…”

           “But…?” Felicity questioned, tilting her head ever-so-slightly again. “She’s just… new to Turf War,” André clarified, “Better than I expected, but… she still doesn’t seem to know what she’s doing as a captain. Feels like she gets overwhelmed easily. Kinda wondering if I’m doing the right thing, staying on this team.” “Of course you are!” insisted Felicity, “You finally got back into Turf War like you wanted, and we’d fall apart without you and your experience!”

           André scoffed and shook his head. “No, I think you’re the one who keeps us together,” he argued, “You’re the only one who seems to be able to cool Marjani’s temper in any way. Amber’s told me she’d be completely lost when it comes to our budget if it wasn’t for you. And I probably wouldn’t stick around if you weren’t who you are.” Felicity bit her lip again and looked at her feet.

           André put his hand on Felicity’s shoulder as they continued walking. “But… most importantly…” he paused briefly before smiling, “You’re honest with us. I feel like we can ask you anything and get a straight answer. You might show different sides of yourself at different times, but I feel like the two of them just put up a front. I mean, did you see how Marjani was acting when Dodge was around? Almost like a different person, like there’s a side of herself she’s ashamed to show us.”

           Felicity began to wring her hands nervously, wiping her palms against each other. “Yeah…” she murmured, “I-I guess I never thought of it th-that way.” She sighed quietly. “Honest…” she whispered under her breath. “But you do keep secrets, don’t you?” asked André. “S-secrets?!” blurted Felicity in surprise, “Wh-what makes you think I… that I keep secrets?!” “Realized it while we were at you and your mother’s place earlier,” replied André, “You two live pretty comfortably, considering you said you play Turf War to help make ends meet.”

           “I-I… uh…” Felicity stammered, trying to come up with an excuse. “Your Turf War earnings don’t go toward the bills, do they?” asked André, smirking knowingly. “N-no…” admitted Felicity in defeat, “I-it goes toward my wardrobe… I, uh… I’m at the age where my mom wants me buying my own clothes now.” “Figured as much,” replied André, nodding, “Seemed odd that you have such a nice place but wanted to help her pay the bills.”

           “Y-yeah…” replied Felicity, “I-I guess I just didn’t want to seem selfish when you guys first met me.” She sighed quietly in relief before realizing just how winded she was. “C-can you slow down a bit?” she asked, slowing to a stop to breathe, “I’m barely keeping up with you here.” “Sorry,” André apologized, stopping to let Felicity catch her breath, “Long walk back to your place.” “I know that,” wheezed Felicity, “But I can’t keep up, your legs are too long!”

           André scratched the back of his head embarrassedly while Felicity dusted off and adjusted her skirt. He dropped his arm and got a thoughtful look on his face. “Got an idea,” he finally spoke up, breaking the silence. He turned around and dropped down onto one knee, hunching over. “Uh, André…?” Felicity raised her eyebrow and leaned to her right, into André’s view as he looked back at her over his shoulder. “C-climb on,” muttered André, trying to mask his embarrassment, “Climb up onto my shoulders.”

           Felicity blushed and jumped slightly. “I-I’m 15, André!” she protested, “D-don’t you think I’m a little old for that? Do I look like a little kid to you?” “Well, everyone looks like a kid to me,” retorted André. Felicity hung her head and bit her lip. “A-alright,” she stuttered, moving forward and straddling André’s back, swinging her legs over his shoulders. André grabbed hold of her legs gently as she put her hands on his head to support herself. “Ready?” he asked. “Y-yeah,” stammered Felicity, “J-just make sure nobody looks up my skirt on the way there.”

           André straightened his legs out and rose back up to his full height. “Wh-whoa!” Felicity held onto his head just a little more tightly as she was elevated. “You okay?” asked André. “Y-yeah,” Felicity stuttered as she finally looked away from André. As the larger squid began walking forward, now with his teammate upon his shoulders, Felicity began to glance around. She smiled widely and giggled quietly. “What?” asked André.

           “So this is what it’s like way up here!” Felicity laughed, “…Are you sure you’ll be okay carrying me all the way to the apartment?” André chuckled quietly, glancing up in her direction. “My Roller’s heavier than you,” he joked, “You’re light as a feather. I’ll be fine.” “If you say so,” replied Felicity, “Boy, how do you get used to this view? This is awesome! I can see so much further!” André laughed again. “Grew up with it,” he chuckled, “What you’re seeing is normal for me. Or, well, a little higher than normal.”

           “André?” whispered Felicity. “Yeah?” asked André, glancing back upward. Felicity smiled and leaned forward so he could see her face. “…Thanks,” she murmured. André smirked back up at her. The two were quiet for a moment as Felicity looked back forward. “So… André…” she started, trying to think of another conversation they could have, “…What are your parents like?” André chuckled again. “You want the long version or the short version?” he asked. “We’ve got time,” replied Felicity, “Long version.” “Alright,” said André, “Dad’s from out of the country. Met my mom while he was here as an exchange student…”

 A few days later…

             Felicity dashed up the stairs in the apartment building, gripping the handrail tightly and taking care not to trip as she went. She couldn’t be late for the strategy meeting today; she had been late to meetings and practices enough times already. Amber and André were always early, and they were counting on her to be just as punctual to help them keep Marjani accountable. She pushed the door open, heading out of the stairwell onto Amber’s floor, and slowed herself to a brisk walking pace so as not to disturb anyone on the floors below with the thudding of running.

           As she looked up from her own shoes, she spotted André leaning up against the wall down the hall, right outside of Amber’s apartment. What was he doing out there? Why wasn’t he inside Amber’s apartment already like usual? Was Amber not ready for the meeting yet? Was he keeping watch for Marjani’s arrival for some reason? Was it perhaps that Marjani was already there, and she and Amber were arguing again, André stepping out so they could hash it out, or avoiding entering in the first place upon hearing the noise? Had he himself perhaps been in an argument with one of them instead?

           Or was it something else she couldn’t think of? Felicity bit her lip at a sudden sinking feeling in her gut that she couldn’t explain. She arrived next to André and put on her biggest grin, trying to shake the sense of dread that had washed over her. “Morning, André!” she greeted him cheerfully. André looked down to her, glancing back and forth between her and his feet as though he couldn’t maintain eye contact.

           “…Something wrong?” asked Felicity, her smile disappearing, “…Everything’s okay, right…?” “Y-yeah,” stuttered André. Felicity raised an eyebrow and pursed her lips at this reaction. André was quiet, but she had never heard him stammer like that before, nor did he so obviously hide things from her like this. “What are you doing out here, André?” she asked in concern, “Is… is something wrong with Amber? Or Marjani?” “No, no, not them…” replied André, taking a deep breath and letting out a quiet, but rumbling sigh that Felicity could practically feel filling the air with awkwardness.

           “…With… you, then?” she asked, trying to get a straight answer out of him. André finally stood straight up from the wall and locked eyes with Felicity, studying her features before closing his own eyes. “…Felicity, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you about since the other day. I didn’t say anything then because we were out in public,” he whispered, “…Cod, I… I don’t really know how to ask this…” “Oh, no, no, no–!” Felicity jumped slightly, blushing, “I-is this about what Dodge was saying?”

           “What? What Dodge was…? What did he say?” asked André in confusion. “A-about you not having a-asked any of us out?” stuttered Felicity nervously, “P-please tell me you’re not about to–?” “What?! No!” André denied incredulously, “Not the time or place for that, and I’ve moved on from that.” “Okay, you have got to tell me what you mean by that,” insisted Felicity, “What happened to–?” “Not important right now, Felicity,” replied André, “L-listen, I… I, uh…”

           André took a deep breath and knelt down to one knee, now at the same eye level as Felicity. He put his hand on her shoulder and made eye contact more firmly than before, not breaking it by glancing away or shutting his eyes. “…Felicity, do you remember… that ride on my shoulders I gave you the other day, to get you home?” he asked. “…Yes…?” replied Felicity in utter confusion, “What are you getting at, André…?” André sighed again and cleared his throat. “Wh-when we were doing that…” he said, his voice shaking with an uncharacteristic delicateness. Felicity’s eyebrows furrowed as she wondered what André was going to say next.

           “…I… thought I felt… something,” whispered André, “…Something that… shouldn’t be there.” “Wh-what do you m-mean?!” asked Felicity, her heart racing. “You remember what I said about you being honest compared to Amber and Marjani, right, Felicity…?” asked André. Felicity’s reply caught in her throat, and, dizzy just thinking about where André was going with this train of thought, the most she could muster was a weak nod. “Well… I think… now might be the right time to make good on that,” continued André, “Felicity… is there something you haven’t told us about yourself?”

           Felicity bit her lip and sniffled as tears welled up in her eyes. She tried not to start crying as André pulled her in, embracing her in his massive arms. “Shh…” he reassured her, “It’s alright. It’s okay. I’m here.” This continued, with André barely budging as Felicity sobbed into his shoulder. “I’m sorry…” he murmured, holding his teammate tightly, “I shouldn’t have pushed you.” Felicity didn’t respond verbally, but began to slowly calm down.

           After a few minutes, Felicity finally pulled away. “I’m sorry,” André repeated, “That wasn’t right of me.” Felicity tried to regain control over her breathing as she hiccupped a few times. “I-I…” she tried to speak, before sniffling again and wiping her eyes and nose on her sleeve. “I’m sorry,” André reiterated once more, “I-I didn’t mean to sound like I was… accusing you of lying to us.” Felicity scoffed cheerlessly for a moment at this.

           “B-but I have been,” she murmured quietly, trying to avoid crying once more, “I-I have been lying, from the s-start… I’ve lied to all of you… to you, to Amber, to M-Marjani, to Dodge…” André shook his head and put both of his hands on Felicity’s shoulders. “Whatever secret it is you’ve been keeping, you’ve been keeping it for a reason,” he reassured her, “It wasn’t right of me to pry.” “S-stop apologizing!” snapped Felicity, lifting André’s hands off of her shoulders and backing away, “It’s not your fault! I-I shouldn’t have been keeping secrets in the first place! I should’ve just told you all from the start!”

           “Felicity…” sighed André, his teammate’s behavior clearly distressing him. His eyes said it all – he was completely torn between trying to comfort her softly or talk her down sternly. Felicity swallowed hard and sniffled again, trying to ease the sore lump in her throat. “I-I’m a freak, aren’t I?” she stammered, “…You already figured out what I’ve been hiding, so you know that… that I-I’m…” André shook his head. “Don’t you dare call yourself that,” he spoke firmly, “Not in front of me.”

           Felicity looked down at her shoes dejectedly and fell silent. André stood up and took a step forward so he could put his hand back on her shoulder. “…You should tell the others,” he said quietly, “I’m not really one to keep secrets myself… I’ll do it if you don’t want them to know, but it won’t sit well with me.” “Y-Yeah… I-I should just tell them…” Felicity muttered, “I-is Amber the only one here other than the two of us?” “Yeah,” replied André, “Do you want to go in there and talk to her about it?” “I-I…” Felicity stammered, “C-can we wait for Marjie? I-I want everyone to be on the same page.”

           André nodded. “Alright, we’ll wait for her to get here,” he agreed, “Do you want to stay out here or go in with Amber, at least?” “L-let’s go inside,” suggested Felicity, “I-I don’t want Marjie to see me like this… I probably have to completely redo my makeup, don’t I?” André smirked and nodded. “It’s kind of a mess,” he confirmed, “Come on.” He held out his right hand for Felicity to take while putting his left on the doorknob. Felicity put her hand in his as he opened the door and led her into Amber’s apartment.

             The door flew open as Marjani burst into Amber’s apartment, panting heavily with her eyes wide. Amber, sitting on her bed, glanced up from her phone and raised her eyebrow. “Hi,” she said casually, “You wanna knock next time?” Marjani doubled over and put her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath. “I… I…” she wheezed, “Sorry, Cap… I booked it over here… when I realized I was gonna be late…”

           André, who was leaning up against the wall next to the window, stood up. “Only twelve minutes late,” he countered, “New record.” “You been keepin’ track?” barked Marjani. “Not every time,” replied André, “Just when it matters.” Marjani stood back up, putting her hands in her pockets. “Twelve minutes ain’t bad, at least,” she retorted. “It could be better,” mumbled Amber. “What are you even doin’?” asked Marjani. “Deleting spam,” replied Amber, her voice drowning in irritation, “I swear, I get more of them every day.”

           “Where’s Lissy?” asked Marjani, “Isn’t she usually here before me?” As if on cue, the door to Amber’s bathroom opened, and Felicity walked out. “Sorry…” she murmured solemnly before noticing Marjani’s presence, “H-hi, Marjie…” André stepped forward to meet Felicity and stood by her side. Amber tucked her phone into her hoodie pocket and stepped off of her bed. “I had to… redo my makeup,” mumbled Felicity.

           “Hey, whatever, gotta look good, right?” Marjani dismissed the apology, “We can start now, right?” André cleared his throat and put his hand on Felicity’s shoulder, causing her to jump slightly and look downward in embarrassment. “Uh…?” Marjani slowly looked from Amber to Felicity to André, “Am I… missin’ something? You guys didn’t already have the meeting without me, right?” André squeezed Felicity’s shoulder lightly, causing her to look up and make eye contact with him.

           “You okay?” asked André quietly, “You don’t have to.” Felicity pursed her lips slightly in hesitation before nodding. “Felicity…” André spoke up a little more loudly, looking back to Marjani, “…Has something she wants to tell us.” Marjani froze. Her eyes widened and she began glancing back and forth between André and Felicity. “Oh my cod,” she gasped knowingly. “Wha–” Amber started before being cut off.

           “–You’re pregnant,” interrupted Marjani. “What?! No!” protested Felicity. “Is André the dad?!” asked Marjani, “You guys know that’s illegal, right?!” “Stop, stop!” interjected Amber, “Just… just let her talk, would you? And… where do you get off talking about what’s illegal, anyway?” “Alright, geez, sorry…” mumbled Marjani, “What is it, cupcake?”

           André gave Felicity’s shoulder another light, reassuring squeeze before letting go entirely, giving her the floor. Felicity stepped forward and took a deep breath. “S-so… I p-probably should’ve told you guys this sooner… m-maybe from the start…” she stuttered, her voice barely above a whisper, “I-I… haven’t been completely honest with you guys… I-I’m not… exactly who I say I am…” She stopped as her breathing quickened before feeling André’s steady hand on her shoulder once more.

           Felicity took a deep breath to recompose herself before continuing. “Th-the truth… the truth is… I’m not Felicity Quinn… not… n-not completely…” she stammered, “M-my legal name i-is… it’s… it’s actually… Felix O’Bryne.” Amber raised her eyebrow and cocked her head slightly, keeping her arms tightly folded. “You…” she murmured under her breath, before continuing her thought in stunned silence, putting her hand to her chin pensively.

           “I-I took th-the name ‘Felicity Quinn’ after my parents divorced…” continued Felicity, her voice catching in her throat, “I-I always wanted to take m-my mother’s maiden n-name when it hap– when it happened, but becoming ‘Felicity’ was… j-just a part of it that I did f-for myself b-because… because I…” Felicity took one last deep breath and cleared her throat. “B-because I-I… I like to dress up like this… a-and–” she started, before being interrupted.

           “–Wait, are you tellin’ me that…” Marjani started, pausing to find the right words, “You’re like, trans?! Holy shit, that’s insane!” She began to chuckle quietly. “Marjani, shh!” hissed Amber. “N-no!’’ protested Felicity frantically, “I-it’s not exactly that… it’s… I just… I like to dress like this sometimes…!” “So, what, a cross-dresser?” asked Marjani, beginning to laugh more openly, “Holy fuck, I seriously can’t believe this!” “Marjani!” growled André. “N-no, wait!” said Marjani between her laughter, “That’s fuckin’ hilarious! Am I seriously the only one findin’ this funny?”

           Marjani looked back and forth between the humorless Amber and André as she covered her mouth, trying to stifle her laughter and failing to see the tears welling up in her third teammate’s eyes. “Yeah, I think you are!” barked Amber, “Now would you–” “–L-Lissy h-had us fooled for-for what, a couple months now?!” asked Marjani, before continuing to laugh, “I mean, how the hell – ha! – How fuckin’ stupid are we?! I mean, w-we see each other a few times every week, an-and none of us ever noticed?! That’s cra–!”

           Marjani was suddenly knocked off balance and stumbled into the side of Amber’s bed as Felicity pushed past her, beelining for the apartment door. Without bothering to look back at any of her teammates, she yanked the door open and slammed it shut behind her as she left the room. Marjani’s laughter had ceased the moment Felicity shoved her, and she looked to Amber and André, stunned at what had just happened. “Wha–?” she was too surprised to speak as André let out a deep sigh and Amber shook her head.

           “What, was it somethin’ I said?” asked Marjani in confusion. “You think?!” Amber snapped sarcastically. “I was laughin’ at us, not her!” protested Marjani, “André, are you gonna–?” “–No,” interrupted André firmly, “Dug this hole yourself. Wanna make it right? You’re on your own.” Marjani grumbled quietly before stepping over to the door and opening it, running out of the room in the hopes of catching Felicity before she got too far.

           “Lissy!” she shouted down the hall as Felicity opened the door to the stairwell, ignoring her teammate’s plea. Marjani dashed down the hallway and pulled the door open. “Lissy!” she yelled again, stepping quickly down the stairs to try and catch up, “Felicity!” “Go away!” cried Felicity, her voice hoarse, “Leave me alone!” “Lissy, wait!” Marjani hollered again as both of them quickened their pace.

           As the two of them rounded a corner on one of the landings, Felicity suddenly slipped as Marjani reached out to grab her. Felicity yelped, her heart skipping a beat as she stumbled toward the next flight of stairs. Just before she fell too far, Marjani wrapped her hand tightly around Felicity’s wrist and caught her. Time stood still for a moment until Marjani pulled Felicity back up onto the landing, the latter realizing what had just happened.

           Now back on solid footing, Felicity tried to pull away from Marjani, the latter holding her firm grip on the former’s wrist. “L-let go of me!” cried Felicity, bursting into tears. “No!” barked Marjani, “Lissy! Lissy, just–!” Felicity continued to try wrenching herself free from Marjani’s hold. “Let gooo!” she shouted. “C’mon, calm down!” insisted Marjani. Felicity stopped trying to pull away, though her crying continued without any sign of abating. Seeing that Felicity at least wasn’t going to try running again, Marjani pulled her in closer and loosened her grip, gently sliding her fingers down her teammate’s wrist into her hand.

           “Lissy, I-I…” Marjani stammered, “I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean it like that… I was laughin’ at us, not you.” Felicity avoided looking Marjani in the eye as she sniffled quietly. “Th-that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt…” she whispered. “I-I know…” Marjani murmured, “Listen… For what it’s worth, you’re still ‘Lissy’ to me, no matter what. I don’t care if you’re a girl, a boy, somethin’ else, whatever.” Felicity finally looked at Marjani and breathed deeply, her eyes puffy and red and her makeup running once more, as they had been after her and André’s conversation in the hallway.

           “Lissy…” Marjani wasn’t entirely sure what else to say, “Why don’t– How about you go back up to Amber’s. I… I’m gonna make this up to you somehow.” Felicity wiped her eyes on her sleeve and sniffled. “Promise?” she squeaked softly. “Promise,” replied Marjani, pulling Felicity in for a brief hug. “O-okay…” accepted Felicity, giggling for a moment, “J-just don’t take too long, you were already late.” As the two separated, Marjani smiled, with Felicity unable to help but reciprocate it, though still sniffling.

           “Go on,” insisted Marjani, letting go of her teammate, who walked past her and began to climb the stairs again, “I’ll catch up in a minute.” As soon as Marjani heard the door to the stairwell close above her, she reached into her pocket and took out her phone. She tapped the touch screen a few times and held the phone up to her ear. “C’mon, pick up…” she muttered before the dial tone suddenly stopped. “Hey, Sis,” Dodge’s voice came through on the other end. “Hey, Dodge,” Marjani greeted him before sighing.

           “What was that?” asked Dodge, “You’re not in trouble again, are you, Sis?” “No, no, I just…” Marjani pinched the bridge of her nose, “Got a lot on my mind right now. Listen, Dodge, I need you to do somethin’ for me.” “If it’s got anythin’ to do with money or your habits, you know the answer,” Dodge quipped without missing a beat. “No, i-it’s not me,” explained Marjani, “It’s for Lissy.” Dodge went silent for a moment. “Dodge? You still there?” asked Marjani before hearing her brother sigh.

           “Yeah, yeah,” replied Dodge, “If it’s for her, what do you need?” “Thanks, Dodge,” said Marjani before pausing, “I… I don’t know. I just… I need somethin’.” “Somethin’…?” asked Dodge, “You don’t actually know what you need?” “Uhh…” Marjani droned, wracking her brain, “C’mon, help me out here. I need an idea. I need to do somethin’ special for her.” “You know her better than me,” replied Dodge, “…Much as I wish that weren’t true. What does she like?” The two were quiet for a second before Marjani’s eyes suddenly widened and she snapped her fingers.

           “Wait, I’ve got an idea!” she exclaimed, “The Splatfest is this weekend, right?” “Yeah? What are you thinkin’, Sis?” asked Dodge. “Just promise me you’ll do this for her, Dodge,” Marjani demanded, “Please!” “Alright, alright,” replied Dodge, “Yeah, I promise… Sis, what’s this really about?” “Not important,” blurted Marjani, “Just listen, can I ask you to… call in that favor?” “Fav–?” Dodge began to ask in confusion before realizing what Marjani meant, “–Sis, that was supposed to be for if I needed somethin’.” “You promised!” replied Marjani.

           Dodge sighed again. “Yeah, I guess I did, didn’t I?” he conceded, “Okay… what do you need?”

 The night of the Splatfest…

             Marjani tapped her foot impatiently as she leaned against the outside wall of Café Cardamari, arms crossed and a scowl on her face. The café had closed for the night, but would reopen earlier than usual the following morning to accommodate the business boom from the Splatfest. “C’mon… where is he…?” she muttered under her breath. The sun was setting behind the skyscrapers of downtown Inkopolis, and Inklings were trickling down the street toward the plaza for the opening ceremony for the Splatfest.

           Marjani wasn’t used to being the first to arrive for a rendezvous; it was an unfamiliar experience for her, one that made her slightly uncomfortable, but she would simply have to endure. She scanned the street for any sign of the one she was meeting there, hoping he would arrive soon. Much to her relief, she spotted him just down the sidewalk from where she was. She stood up and waved to catch Dodge’s attention.

           “What took you so long?” asked Marjani as Dodge stopped just next to her. “What, no ‘hi, Dodge, how you doin’?’ No ‘thanks so much, little bro, you’re the best?’” asked Dodge sarcastically, before digging into his pocket with a smirk, “I thought you wouldn’t be here before me, honestly, so I let myself run a little late.” “This is important,” replied Marjani curtly, turning to face her brother. “Here,” said Dodge, pulling his hand out of his pocket and passing a pair of glossy printed tickets to his sister. Marjani finally smiled and looked her brother in the eye.

           “Thanks for this, Dodge,” she smiled, sighing in relief, “Thanks for usin’ your favor for this. You’re the best.” “Eh, don’t sweat it,” replied Dodge, putting his hands in his pockets, “Marie told me it wasn’t like I could only call in one favor and then I had to delete her number or anythin’. It’s not like she only grants three wishes and then back in the lamp; she just doesn’t want me callin’ if it ain’t important.” Marjani wrapped her arms around her brother. “Thanks anyway,” she reiterated. “I’m not gonna say ‘you owe me one,’ but…” Dodge retorted, smirking.

           “–But I owe you one,” replied Marjani, rolling her eyes as she pulled away. “Hey, if it goes well, you could always tell Felicity you got ‘em from me,” added Dodge, “Think she’d humor me with a date as thanks?” Marjani snickered quietly. “Don’t hold your breath,” she countered, “You don’t even know if Lissy swings that way.” “Wait, what?!” blurted Dodge, “Are you sayin’ she’s–” “–I’m sayin’ don’t judge a book by its cover,” interrupted Marjani, “Hell, I don’t even know.”

           She turned and started to walk away. “You can ask her, but somethin’ tells me she’s gonna say no either way,” she continued, waving over her shoulder to her brother, “Thanks again, Dodge. I’ll at least tell her that you’re the one who got ‘em for us.” The flabbergasted Dodge waved weakly at his sister as she headed toward the plaza before putting his hands back in his pockets. “I… thanks…” he muttered, “…Man, I didn’t even think of that.”

             The hustle and bustle of Inkopolis Plaza grew ever louder as Felicity meandered down the sidewalk. Amber was just ahead of her, leading the way, while André lagged behind the two of them, plodding along at a slower pace so that he wouldn’t overtake them. Marjani, of all people, had convinced the three of them to all show up for the opening ceremony to the Splatfest. Amber and André had agreed to do so, though the latter had been rather reluctant about it, and as much as Felicity had wanted to go, she wasn’t sure why Marjani had gotten so adamant about it, nor could she seem to banish the thought from her mind.

           “How much time before the ceremony?” she asked, trying to take her mind off of the subject. “We’ve got almost a whole hour,” replied Amber, checking her phone for the time, “I don’t know why Marjani wanted us here so early. This is completely unlike her.” André sighed in agreement. “Hard to tell what’s going on in her head sometimes,” he added. Felicity straightened her skirt nervously.

           “You gonna be okay?” asked André. “Y-yeah, I just…” Felicity sighed, “I-it feels different now…” “What does?” asked Amber, “You mean–” “–You guys knowing that I’m… about my secret…” murmured Felicity. “You’re still hung up on that?” asked Amber, “I mean, yeah, it was a surprise, but it’s not like you were faking anything.”

           “…I know, I just–” Felicity started, “…I still feel bad about it. But… thanks, guys.” Amber put her hands on the back of her head and looked back at Felicity over her shoulder. “No one wants to keep a secret,” she continued, “Especially not from friends. ‘Felicity’ might not be your birth name, but everything we know about her is real. Unless you actually hate trying new makeup and tentacle styles.” “Are you kidding?” asked Felicity incredulously, “Amber, that’s half the fun!”

           André laughed as the trio arrived at the plaza. “There’s that firecracker again,” he rumbled with a smirk, pausing to scan the plaza for any sign of Marjani, “…You guys seeing her anywhere?” “You can’t?” asked Amber, raising her eyebrow as she looked up to her teammate. “Big crowd,” replied André, “Felicity, wanna help me look?” “Sure!” replied Felicity as André knelt down onto one knee.

           She scampered behind him and climbed up onto his shoulders without hesitation, holding on tightly as he stood back up. Amber laughed at the sight of her petite teammate atop André’s shoulders. “Any luck?” she asked, stifling her chuckling. Felicity turned her head slowly, trying to see if she could spot Marjani anywhere in the crowd. As she reached the limits of how far she could turn without falling, she tapped the right side of André’s head, causing him to turn in that direction so she could continue.

           “Hey!” she suddenly exclaimed with a smile, leaning forward slightly and pointing, “Over there!” André looked to where she was pointing and spotted Marjani, waving to the group and visibly laughing, though he couldn’t actually hear her through the noise of the crowd. “I see her,” he confirmed. Without waiting to set Felicity back down, he started walking toward Marjani, causing his teammate to yelp slightly and grip his head just a little more tightly.

           “Hey, some warning would be nice next time, André!” Felicity chastised him, giving him a light tap on his head, to which he chuckled. “…See?” he asked, “Nothing’s different.” Felicity gasped lightly in realization as André dropped back down to his knee, allowing her to climb down from his shoulders. “Thanks,” she murmured quietly as she smiled warmly. “You guys looked ridiculous!” laughed Marjani as she met with the group, trying to contain her laughter, “I coulda seen you a mile away!”

           “Alright, that’s all four of us now,” Amber stated plainly, “You wanna tell us why you wanted us here so early, Marjani?” “Uh… I can’t,” stammered Marjani, breaking eye contact with Amber, “…Just Lissy.” “What?” asked Felicity incredulously, “Me?!” “Got us to come all the way out here…” mumbled André, his patience clearly being tested, “All this racket… Didn’t even need us here… Should just go home…”

           “Don’t!” snapped Marjani, “You’re not goin’ anywhere.” André sighed, folding his arms. “Better be worth it for putting up with this noise…” he muttered. “It will be,” Marjani insisted, holding out her hand to Felicity, though avoiding eye contact, “C-c’mon, Lissy.” “Are you at least going to tell me what this is all about?” asked Felicity, taking Marjani’s hand. “Not yet, it’s a surprise,” asserted Marjani as she began to lead Felicity away from the other two, “In fact, close your eyes.”

           She looked back to Amber and André as Felicity did as she was told and closed her eyes, gripping Marjani’s hand more tightly. “And you two had better fuckin’ stay!” barked Marjani, “If I get back and you guys went home, I’m quittin’ the team again!” André raised an eyebrow and sighed until Marjani was out of earshot. “Not sure I trust her on this,” he muttered simply, “You?” “I don’t know…” replied Amber, folding her arms before looking up to the other Inkling with a mischievous look, “…Hey, mind if I hop up on your shoulders to get a better view and see where they’re going?”

           “Not a chance,” replied André, eliciting a disappointed sigh from his teammate.

             As the noise faded around the two Inklings, Felicity could feel her palm getting sweatier, both from nervousness and from Marjani’s rough, tight grip. “W-where are we going, Marjie?” she asked. “Just a little further,” replied Marjani, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the two tickets that Dodge had handed off to her earlier. As she slowed to a stop, Felicity opened her left eye slightly to peek and see where they were. “Hold on, not yet!” hissed Marjani. “Where are we?” asked Felicity, squeezing her eyes shut again.

           “Shh, just gimme a damn minute!” Marjani, holding up the two tickets to a tall, imposing Inkling wearing a dark suit and sunglasses, standing in front of a door inside of the Inkopolis Studio. He took the two passes from Marjani and nodded before handing them back to her with a modest smile. He turned around and rapped on the door lightly before grabbing the handle to the door and opening it slowly.

           “No photos, and please be out before the show starts,” he instructed, “Not that you’ll want to miss it.” Marjani took Felicity’s hand once more and led her through the open door before the security guard closed it behind them. “Marjie…?” asked Felicity, “W-what’s going on? What was he talking about…?” Marjani let go of her teammate’s hand and stood behind her, putting her hands on Felicity’s shoulders.

           “Alright, now open your eyes,” she finally directed her with a smile, accompanied by the sound of stifled giggling. Felicity opened her eyes in confusion and began to look around the room that she and Marjani had entered. “Wh-where is this? Where are…” she asked, before her eyes came to rest on two other squids that were already seated in the room, one at a vanity and the other on a chair nearby.

           Felicity’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened in disbelief as she began to realize where Marjani had taken her. The light gray-tentacled girl, dressed in a black-and-green outfit, had a warm smirk on her face as she waved to the dazed Felicity, while the black-tentacled girl, her outfit likewise black with pink highlights rather than her counterpart’s green, was positively beaming as she tried not to giggle. “Lissy,” started Marjani, “Meet–”

           “–The Squid Sisters?!” Felicity blurted, utterly starstruck, “Y-you… Marjie! You…!” Felicity turned around and embraced Marjani tightly. “Y-you… how did you…?!” she stammered. “Marjani’s brother is a friend of ours,” interjected Marie, “We hooked him up with a couple of backstage passes for you two.” “Oh my cod, I have to thank him next time we see him!” cried Felicity. “Hey, hey, don’t mess up your makeup, cupcake,” whispered Marjani, putting her hand on Felicity’s chin.

           Felicity pulled away from Marjani and nodded, blinking rapidly as she tried to stop herself crying tears of joy. She turned back to the Squid Sisters. “S-sorry… I-I… I j-just–” she stuttered, trying to contain herself. “–What Lissy’s tryin to say is she’s a huge fan,” interjected Marjani, stepping in to give her teammate a moment to process, “She, uh…” She paused for a moment as she wracked her brain for something to break the ice.

           “Oh!” she said while snapping her fingers, “She’s already memorized the dance moves for that one new song!” “Oh, which one?” asked Marie, leaning forward, “Tide Goes Out? Or Bomb Rush Blush?” “Bomb Rush Blush,” Felicity spoke up, finally stepping forward, her composure regained. “Ha!” Callie laughed, grinning, as she turned to look at Marie, “Even Marie doesn’t know the moves to that one.” She turned back to Felicity and Marjani and Felicity, rolling her eyes. “Can you believe she slept in the day the choreographer was supposed to teach her?” she asked.

           “Cut me some slack,” argued Marie nonchalantly, “I was up late practicing Tide Goes Out the night before.” “Well maybe if you practiced during the day like normal people, your sleep schedule wouldn’t be so messed up!” replied Callie, pouting as she put her hands on her hips before turning back to the others and shrugging, “And she wonders why the Splatfest theme is ‘Early Birds’ vs. ‘Night Owls.’”

           Felicity giggled. “Marjie’s the same way,” she agreed, “She’s always late to practice and strategy meetings.” “H-hey!” protested Marjani. Callie and Marie giggled. “Seems like you two couldn’t be more different,” mused Marie, “But you’ve got this great chemistry going on.” “Oh my cod, you’re right!” exclaimed Callie, “Marie, they’re totes like us when we were younger!” “What do you mean, ‘when we were younger?’” asked Marie, “We’re still young, and you sure act like it.”

           Callie pouted once more and crossed her arms as her cousin stood up. “Oh, right, that reminds me… You two are part of one of the new teams this season, aren’t you?” Marie asked, “What was it? The ‘Outsiders?’” “Outcasts,” Marjani corrected her just loudly enough for Marie to hear, as if she was embarrassed to admit it. “I thought I recognized you two from somewhere,” continued Marie, “We’ve seen you play a few times.”

           “That’s the new team with André the Kraken, right?” asked Callie. “You know André?” asked Felicity, cocking her head slightly. “He had a bit of a reputation,” replied Marie, “A guy that big tends to stand out.” “Okay, I gotta ask,” replied Marjani, “Do you two know anythin’ about his story? He doesn’t talk to us about what happened between him and his old team. All we know is they voted him out before last year’s off-season.” “That’s more than I knew,” replied Callie. “You’ll have to ask someone else,” added Marie, “But anyway… enough about that.”

           She took a few steps forward to look Felicity in the eye. “What about you?” she asked, “You… want something signed? Maybe a poster or something else, to remember this by?” “I-I would’ve brought my copy of your latest album if I knew this was where Marjie was taking me,” replied Felicity dejectedly. “Hm…” Marie mused as she looked around the room. “Callie, do we have any merch that we could– Callie?” Marie looked over to Callie, who was facing the other direction and breathing deeply.

           “Callie?” asked Marie, “You alright?” Felicity and Marjani peered around Marie to see what was wrong. “I-I’m fine!” said Callie nervously, “Just… pre-show jitters…” Marie turned away from Felicity and Marjani and walked over to her cousin, turning her around and taking her hands. “You sure?” she asked, “You never get this nervous.” “I-I never go out there solo!” protested Callie, “I’ve always got you there!”

           Marie sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t learn the moves in time, Callie,” she apologized, “I should be going out there to back you up, and I went and slept in.” “No, don’t blame yourself, Marie,” said Callie, embracing her cousin as her breathing steadied, “But we are gonna win this Splatfest and prove you wrong.” Marie laughed as she returned Callie’s hug.

           “Is she gonna be okay?” murmured Marjani. “Oh, don’t worry about me,” replied Callie reassuringly, “I just have trouble dancing when people are watching me. Having Marie up there with me makes me feel like I’m not the only one everyone’s looking at.” “W-wait, you, too?!” asked Felicity, “I have the same problem!” Marie chuckled. “Maybe you ought to go up there with her,” she joked, “You could back each other up.”

           As she looked back to Callie, the smirk on her face dropped at the sight of Callie’s wide eyes and growing smile. “C-Callie…?” she asked, unsure of what she’d just sparked in her cousin’s mind. “Marie! That’s an awesome idea!” said Callie, hugging her cousin tightly. “What?! No, no, no, no, Callie, that’s an awful idea!” protested Marie, pulling back enough to look Callie in the eye, “I was just joking! You can’t seriously be thinking that you should bring a fan up there with you to–?!”

           “–Yes!” Callie interrupted, “Why not? It’ll be fun!” Felicity blushed and looked to Marjani nervously. Marjani took Felicity by the arm and pulled her closer to herself. “She’s just jokin’,” she assured her in a hushed tone. “I’m not joking!” insisted Callie, having overheard Marjani. “Okay, she’s not jokin’,” continued Marjani, “Don’t worry, you don’t have to do anythin’ you don’t wanna. Squid Sister or not, I won’t let her.”

           Felicity breathed deeply and sighed before looking Marjani in the eye. “Th-that’s the thing, Marjie…” she whispered, biting her lip, “I-I… I kind of want to.” Marjani blinked a few times in disbelief. “You…? Okay, Lissy, hold on, just think about this,” she said, taken aback, “Y-you’re just jokin’ now, too, right?” Felicity shook her head. “I… I want to,” she repeated, more confidently this time, “I mean, it’ll make for a better memory than just a signed poster, don’t you think?”

           “I– Lissy, there’s no way they’ll let you,” protested Marjani, “They’ve been plannin’ this show for months, probably, they aren’t just gonna…” her voice trailed off as Felicity pouted. She glanced over to Callie, who was pulling the same face at Marie, who looked over and returned Marjani’s uncertain look. They both sighed at the same time. “Alright,” they conceded simultaneously, before Marie continued on her own, “If you want to help Callie out that badly, I won’t stop you. But I hope for all of our sakes that you know those moves as well as you say.”

           “Yaaaay!” Callie exclaimed, skipping over to Felicity and holding her hand out for Felicity to take, “Come on, I know we’ve got a version of Marie’s outfit in my color somewhere around here!” Felicity took Callie’s hand, stunned by the turn of events, before being unexpectedly jerked away from Marjani, giggling in disbelief as she followed after Callie.

           Marjani saddled up next to Marie as they watched Callie and Felicity find the outfit the former had mentioned. “You sure about this?” asked Marjani, “I don’t wanna be crashin’ the show you guys had planned or nothin’.” “It’ll be fine,” replied Marie, “If she’s as good as you say. Being on stage adds a whole new layer of pressure, but I’m sure people will be watching Callie. I doubt anyone will notice if she slips up a little.” “Alright, if things are okay back here,” sighed Marjani reluctantly, “I’m gonna head back out front for the show.”

           As she made her way toward the door, she waved to Felicity at the back of the room. “Lissy!” she called out, “I’m goin’ back out to make sure Amber and André are still here. You gonna be okay without me?” “Mm-hmm!” Felicity confirmed with a smile, “Couldn’t be better!” “Alright, I’ll be back after the show,” replied Marjani, giving a Felicity a thumbs-up as she opened the door to the dressing room and headed back outside.

             Marjani arrived back out at the plaza, which was even more crowded and noisy than before she’d left with Felicity. The sun had set completely, and the plaza was now lit solely by an assortment of decorative golden yellow and indigo lights representing the two teams of the forthcoming Splatfest. Marjani scanned the crowd and spotted André towering over the other Inklings. She pushed her way through the crowd, making her way to André and Amber.

           “Hey!” she greeted them, getting their attention as she got close. André looked over to where she was and began looking around in confusion. “Where’s Felicity?” he asked. “You took her somewhere and then just dumped her?!” asked Amber furiously. “No! Fuck, no!” asserted Marjani, “I… She’s okay. Don’t worry about her.” “Then where is she?” repeated André, clearly nonplussed with Marjani’s secrecy. “Just trust me, ‘kay?” insisted Marjani, “…Please.”

           André folded his arms and looked away, at the stage. “Alright,” he sighed reluctantly. As he continued to watch the two stages, set up across from each other, his eyes widened. “What… the…?!” his voice trailed off as Amber and Marjani looked forward. Callie appeared on the stage to the left, a headset in her ear with a small microphone extending down, while Felicity, dressed up in a magenta-accented version of Marie’s usual outfit, walked out onto the other stage opposite the Squid Sister. She looked over to Callie, who beamed back at her with a wink and flashed a reassuring thumbs-up.

           Felicity nodded to Callie as the crowd cheered in anticipation of the performance that was about to begin. Callie waved to the mass, her arms high in the air, as she grinned from ear to ear. Wordlessly, she left one hand up in the air, beginning a countdown on her fingers. As she got down to the last two, the beginning of her new single, Bomb Rush Blush, could be heard starting up on the speakers.

           Moving in time with the music and each other, Callie and Felicity began to dance as André and Amber stared with their jaws wide open in surprise. The crowd cheered as Callie began to add a live performance of the lyrics to the pre-recorded instrumental version of her song. “Chasin’ after you, ‘cause I’m ready, ready, ready, ready for ya,” she sang, “Makin’ my way there, ‘cause I’m ready, ready, gotta make a move!”

           “So then, so then won’t you just look at me? I need somebody to make me feel loved, and I want it to be you, only you, you, why can’t it be you?” she continued, Felicity following and mirroring her movements exactly. Felicity struggled to keep her eyes open, the combination of the bright lights, her own sweat and tears of joy, and the utter disbelief of what she was doing being almost overwhelming.

           Back at the Quinn residence, Ms. Quinn was watching the live broadcast of the opening ceremony with her hand over her mouth in shock as tears rolled down her cheeks. “Your Bomb Rush always makes me blush, when I’m in their ink movin’ slowly, you’re comin’ for me, come help me, come rescue me from them, I’ve fallen for you,” Callie’s voice continued. Ms. Quinn shook as she sat alone in her living room. “You little liar…” she murmured, laughing through her tears, “You can dance with people watching you…”

           “Your Bomb Rush always makes me blush, when I’m in their ink movin’ slowly but I’m comin’ for you,” sang Callie, breathing in deeply to make sure she’d nail the notes of the final line, “Forgetting, forgetting, that we’re on different teams!” She and Felicity each flashed a glance at each other as they performed the final moves of the song’s dance, ending the performance with the iconic pose that both of the Squid Sisters usually struck together.

           The crowd roared as fireworks shot up behind Inkopolis Tower to mark the end of the song, exploding into the yellow and indigo colors representing the Splatfest. Marjani looked up to André with a smug smile as he smirked and shook his head, applauding along with the rest of the masses. “So, André,” she shouted over the noise of the crowd, “Worth it to stay instead of goin’ home?” André looked down to Marjani, raising his eyebrow but keeping his smile. He nodded to her as he finally slowed his applause, looking back to the stages where Callie and Felicity were waving to the crowd.

           “Yeah. It was worth it.”

 SPLATOON: THE OUTCASTS

EPISODE END

             Amber straightened her Team Early Bird t-shirt inside her apartment as she checked her phone for the current time. The Outcasts had each gone back home after the opening ceremony to change into their Splatfest shirts, but there was yet some time before the matches would actually begin. Tossing her phone onto her bed, as she no longer had her hoodie’s usual pockets to store it in, she walked over to her apartment door and grabbed the knob while turning the lights off.

           As she opened the door, she was taken aback by the sight of all three of her teammates standing outside in the hall, waiting for her. André was studying Felicity and Marjani, wearing his own Team Early Bird shirt with an uneasy look on his face. He sighed as he shifted his sights to Amber. Amber’s gaze fell to her other two teammates, standing next to each other – and each wearing indigo Team Night Owl shirts. Amber glanced back and forth between André and the other two and realized what was happening, her expression growing more and more troubled.

           Amber opened the door to her apartment and entered, leading the other three Outcasts in. It was the first time she had brought them to her apartment; they usually met up at Café Cardamari or somewhere else near Inkopolis Plaza for strategy meetings or practice, and had never once just hung out at or even seen each other’s homes. As the others filed in behind her, Marjani closed the door with a slightly forceful kick of her boot. “This better be important,” she sneered, “Or at least quick.”

           Amber sighed. “It can be both if you just listen,” she retorted. With her back turned to the others, she took her Tinted Shades off momentarily and rubbed the sweat from her eyes before replacing them and turning around to face them. “Guys…” she started, “We have got to start doing better than this.” “Ugh…” Marjani groaned loudly, “This is a fuckin’ pep talk? Some clichés about tough love and all that other shit? ‘Come on, guys, we gotta win next time?’ That’s what you dragged me here for?”

           “All of us, Marjani,” insisted Amber, putting her hands on her hips, “But yes, you especially.” “What, is this about me trying to play the damn game ‘cause you’re a shit captain?” hissed Marjani. “Partially, yes!” Amber asserted as she folded her arms, standing her ground. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” shouted Marjani, “I’m outta here!”

           She turned around and grabbed the handle of the door to open it again, only to look up and see one of André’s massive arms holding it closed. “André!” she grunted as she yanked on the handle again in the hopes of getting him to move. André simply glared at her, causing her to shrink back away from the door and turn to face Amber again, crossing her arms in a huff.

           “We are not playing like a team,” continued Amber, “That’s gotta change. We’re out there, flailing around, not backing each other up, or not splitting away when we need to. Felicity…” She turned to and gestured in the direction of her pink-tentacled teammate, who hung her head shamefully. “You were hanging back by me from the start of the match, like you were hoping you’d be safer with me, if we just stuck together the whole time,” she said, “You’ve got to remember that you have your Bubbler for that. As the sniper, you need to focus on splats, not covering turf. We need you to be aggressive.”

           She crossed her arms again. “But most importantly, I spent most of the match trying to get you guys to follow the plan,” she added, “If we’re going to be a team, we have to start being able to do our jobs without having to be told out on the field. Spice Splat had their plan in place from the get-go and executed it perfectly without even hardly needing to stop to communicate. We never stood a chance against them.”

           “They had better weapons,” protested Marjani. “They have more experience,” Felicity quietly added. “Okay, experience, yeah,” agreed Amber, “Weapons, maybe. But skill and teamwork are huge. I’ve seen you and André practice, Felicity. You know that Squiffer inside and out, and André swings around that Roller like it’s nothing! We’ve all got enough skill between us to do at least a little better than this; we just need to start playing off of each other’s strengths and covering each other’s weaknesses.”

           “What about me?” asked Marjani angrily. “Well, I wouldn’t know!” retorted Amber, “You’ve missed two of our practices, and were late for the other two – and probably high when you did finally show up! How am I supposed to gauge your skills if you won’t even commit to the team?” “I don’t need to practice!” growled Marjani, stepping forward and pointing at Amber, “If you would just trust me to do my best–!”

           “–You’ve given me no reason to!” shouted Amber, “You say you don’t need to practice, but you’ve ranked at the bottom in every one of the four matches we’ve had so far! You say you’re great with a Splatling, but you run off and get yourself splatted every time! You focus on splatting instead of inking turf, but you haven’t gotten a single splat in four matches! Do you really not need to practice, or is it just that you’d rather get high with Spyke than do your job as a member of this team?!”

           “I don’t need a fuckin’ team!” screamed Marjani, “All I need is for you to shut up and help me win! You’re tryin’ to pay rent for this little shithole, aren’t you?! So you need the money, too! Quit pretendin’ like you think you’re such a better person than me and just play the fuckin’ game!” “Turf War is more than just running out there and trying to splat people!” shouted Amber, “We wouldn’t be losing so much if you would just learn to play better, or at least cooperate with us!”

           “Oh, yeah? And what about you, rookie? You moved here from the boonies, actin’ like you’re all that, and you think you can just tell us what to do before the match and have us do it?!” snarled Marjani, stepping forward as she spoke to get up in Amber’s face, “Sounds to me like you just wanna get away with not having to act like a real captain, because you know you’re shit at it!” “Yes, I want to have a plan before we go in! That’s why we have strategy meetings!” snapped Amber, “So that I don’t have to babysit you to keep you from getting yourself splatted a million times every match!”

           Felicity began backing away from the two, practically hiding behind André. “Marjie, stop!” she tried to interject. “Stop calling me that!” screamed Marjani, whipping around to face Felicity. “Amber’s–” Felicity tried to protest. “–She’s what?!” yelled Marjani, “She’s right?! She’s better than me?!” Felicity winced and moved further behind André. “She’s not!” screamed Marjani, “She’s a shitty captain, and a loser! All of you are! You’re a bunch of losers!”

           “That’s enough, Marjani!” shouted Amber. “I’ll say!” retorted Marjani. Felicity’s eyes teared up as she looked away from the others. She tore herself away from André, pulled the door to the room open, and ran out as she burst into tears. “Felicity!” shouted André, following after her, though not before shooting an even angrier look at Marjani than before, baring his teeth unintentionally in silent fury.

           “Now look what you’ve done!” yelled Amber, “Do you care about anyone but yourself?” The enraged Marjani was quiet, simply turning back to Amber and gritting her teeth. “Not my fault if Princess is too much of a wimp for this!” she protested. “You– Ugh! You are impossible to work with!” shouted Amber, “Nothing gets through to you! For a second there, I thought you actually cared that you just hurt her feelings!” “Yeah, well–!” Marjani began.

           “–No! No more excuses!” yelled Amber, “I’ve had it! Get out! If you hate us that much, get out, and get off my team!” Marjani’s eyes widened. “You– You’re fuckin’ trying to fire me?!” she screamed. “Yeah, I am!” confirmed Amber, “Do you care now?” Without missing a beat, Marjani twisted her face into a snarl once more. “Fuck that!” she screeched, “You can’t fire me! ‘Cause I quit! Fuck you guys!” She stomped back over to the door and turned around one last time to throw up her middle finger at Amber before slamming it shut.

           Amber’s apartment fell eerily quiet – Felicity and André had gone too far down the hallway for Amber to hear the latter consoling the former through the door, and even Marjani’s pounding footsteps weren’t making hardly any noise in the hall as she left the building. Amber ground her teeth in anger and glanced around the room before snatching the pillow off her bed and pressing her face to it to muffle her frustrated scream, shattering the silence.

             As Marjani exited the apartment building, she slammed the door behind her, muttering to herself as she adjusted the bag holding her Splatling on her shoulder. “Fuckin’… who needs ‘em? Useless losers…” she sneered, “Should’ve known they’d fuck it up for me… A rookie from the fuckin’ boonies who thinks she’s better than me… André thinks I’m just some junkie; smug asshole quit Turf War for a year like a wuss ‘cause his old teammates hurt his stupid feelings… and… fuckin’…” Her voice trailed off as she made her way down the sidewalk.

           “Fuckin’… I gotta go see Spyke.”

             Amber bitterly flung her pillow at the wall before sitting down on the edge of her bed, placing her face in her hands in exasperation and sighing loudly. She was still too enraged to start crying, as much as she wanted to: She had hoped things were going to last longer than this, and that they would get better with time, but less than two weeks into the nine-month Turf War season, everything was already falling apart. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself and figure out her next course of action.

           A few minutes passed before the door to her room reopened, and André re-entered, cradling Felicity’s hand in his own. Her soft blue eyes were reddened and Amber could see the slightly-darkened spot where she’d wiped her tears on her left sleeve. “Amber,” André grunted sternly, “What happened? Where’s Marjani gone?” Amber looked away from André and Felicity, wincing slightly as she did.

           “Marjani’s… not coming back,” she admitted, “…She… She’s not part of the team anymore.” “What?!” asked Felicity, dropping her hand from André’s, “No, no, no! She can’t… what?!” “She – I – sh-she quit,” continued Amber, her stuttering voice hoarse from screaming, “No, I-I fired her… but then she – I don’t know, I tried to threaten her with being kicked off the team if she didn’t start listening, and she just quit instead!” She placed her face in her hands again, her stomach twisting as if she could physically feel the conversation diverting from her intended course.

           “Not good…” murmured André, “Even if she’s hard to work with, we’re worse off with only three of us.” He put his hands on his hips and hung his head. “Hard to hire on someone new in the middle of a season, too,” he added, “And freelancers are an expense we can’t afford.” “It’s alright, we’ll be okay!” Amber protested, standing up and trying to reassure her teammates, “We’ll figure it out. We’ll find something.” “Amber,” replied André, now crossing his arms, “We’ve got another match the day after tomorrow.”

           “Oh…” Amber whispered in realization, her eyes widening before falling shamefully, “Oh, no…” “Less than two days to find something,” André continued, “Gotta get started, then.” “R-right…” Amber replied, walking past the other two while avoiding eye contact with either of them, “L-let’s go. W-we don’t have a lot of time.” She opened the door to her apartment, exiting with André and Felicity in tow.

The following day…

           In a studio at the top of Inkopolis Tower sat a young male squid, with a large pair of professional headphones covering his pointed ears. His skin was a dark brown, with bright green eyes and distinctive purple tentacles, tied back such that they wouldn’t bump into the headphones. He wore a pair of Red Hi-Tops and a Satin Jacket emblazoned with the image of the Great Zapfish, a giant electric fish that lived its life wrapped around the same tower, just outside of the studio, providing power to the city of Inkopolis. He was seated in front of a large mixing console, with a microphone just in front of his face.

           “That’s the last match for today, everyone,” he announced, “Thanks for tunin’ in to today’s Turf War matches. Have a fantastic evenin’, Inkopolis, and stay fresh!” Leaning away from the microphone, he pressed a switch next to it, shutting it off and ending the day’s broadcasts at precisely 6:00 PM. He sighed as he carefully removed the expensive-looking headphones from his head, hanging them around his neck, and began to massage his pointed ears.

           With ears as long as his, it was never comfortable to wear headphones, but it was a small price to pay for him to do what he loved. It was a dream job – at the young age of 16, he’d already landed a position in Inkopolis Tower, playing the role of one of the DJs for Turf War matches day in and day out. He was at the end of a four-day streak of ten-hour shifts, however, and it was a relief to finally be getting some time off. He could finally spend a day or two working on his own music, instead of just playing someone else’s.

           He was interrupted by a sudden knock on the outside of the door. “Come on in,” he called out with a small smile. The door opened quietly and a middle-aged, slightly-overweight Sharkling – the Inkling’s boss, Donald Megalo – walked in. “Great work today, Tendaji,” he congratulated the younger employee. “Thanks, Boss,” replied Tendaji, putting his hands behind his head and leaning back, “What’s up?”

           Megalo clapped his hands together. “So,” he started, “I’ve got something coming up soon and didn’t realize I was planning my family vacation to be going over the same date. I was hoping you might be able to fill in for me.” “Sure?” Tendaji replied with uncertainty, “What is it?” “It’s a little hush-hush, we can’t talk about it here,” whispered Megalo.

           Tendaji raised an eyebrow. “Boss, you’re not askin’ me to do something illegal, are you?” he asked. “No, no, it’s not illegal, but I’m under NDA,” replied Megalo. Tendaji’s eyes widened. “That big, huh?” he asked, “…And you forgot that it lined up with your vacation?” “We’ve been planning it for the last six months,” insisted Megalo, “Everything was set in stone before I got the offer, and I accepted without realizing.”

           Tendaji laughed. “That’s not like you, Boss,” he said, “Really must be somethin’ major.” The Inkling leaned forward in the chair. “Alright, I’m listenin’,” he relented, “What do you need me to do?” Megalo put one of his hands in his pocket casually. “For now, nothing,” he replied, “I’ll give you a call sometime tomorrow; we’ll talk specifics then. Just remember, I’m under NDA. Not sure if you’ll be, but we’ll burn that bridge when we get to it.”

           “Sure thing, Boss,” Tendaji agreed, standing up. “Stay fresh, kid,” replied Megalo as he turned around, “Enjoy the time off.” He re-opened the door and stepped just outside, only to stop himself just before he would have bumped into someone else who was waiting outside. “Oh, hey,” Tendaji heard him say. He stood up, removing the studio headphones entirely and placing them on the console before picking up a Fishfry Visor and placing it on his head.

           “Is my little bro still here?” asked a voice out in the hallway. “Yeah, he just finished up for the day,” replied Megalo, “Go on in.” He stepped out of the way, leaving the door open for another Inkling to walk in – Marjani. She closed the door behind her before looking to Tendaji with a wide grin. “Hey, Dodge!” she, her voice dripping with forced enthusiasm.

           Dodge smiled, but placed his hands on his hips. “What’s up, Sis?” he asked, as if he knew what to expect. “You know who’s my favorite little bro in the world?” asked Marjani. “I already know the answer,” replied Dodge, crossing his arms, “And I’m pretty sure I know the next question, too.” Marjani’s smile began to fade; there was no hiding anything from him. “I… need to borrow money,” she continued. “You got enough for rent yet?” Dodge asked. “Well, not yet, but–” Marjani began before being cut off.

           “–Then no,” Dodge interrupted her. Marjani’s smile completely vanished as she furrowed her brow. “Why not?” she asked. “First off, you just said you don’t have enough for rent,” Dodge replied, “Second, I know where that money’s goin’.” Marjani crossed her arms with a quiet “hmph.” “And third,” continued Dodge, “I know I probably won’t get it back. You still haven’t paid me back for last time.” “…Fuck,” Marjani grumbled quietly, having been hoping he’d forgotten about that.

           “Sis, I thought you were doin’ better,” sighed Dodge, “Don’t you have more steady income now?” Marjani suddenly broke off eye contact with her brother. “Sis…?” Dodge took a step forward, trying to get his sister to look at him again, “…Everythin’ alright?” “…I-I quit the team,” Marjani finally stuttered awkwardly, hanging her head. Dodge sighed, looking down at his shoes before scratching the back of his head. “…For real?” he asked as he looked back up after an awkward moment of silence, “So… now what?”

           “I’ll just go back to bein’ a freelancer,” replied Marjani, “I don’t need a stupid team.” Dodge crossed his arms again. “What happened, Sis?” he asked, “Is it because of the match with Spice Splat yesterday?” Marjani’s face began to turn a reddish shade. “No!” she protested, “It’s – I just – Those guys are just a bunch of selfish losers!” Dodge simply responded with an unconvinced look. “Seriously!” insisted Marjani.

           “I watched the match, Sis,” replied Dodge, “I saw how the captain was tryin’ to wrangle you.” “Y-you were–?!” Marjani started to ask before remembering that Dodge had been the DJ the day before. “Sis, you can’t just keep doing that to your teammates,” continued Dodge, “Turf War is not the kind of sport you can win on your own! It’s not about–”

           “–I don’t care what they think it’s about!” interrupted Marjani, “Dad always just said to get out there and do the best I could! They’re tryin’ to hold me back!” “They’re tryin’ to work as a team, Sis!” replied Dodge, “When you’re part of a team, you can’t just go out there and only think about yourself! When Dad said ‘do your best,’ he didn’t mean–” “–How would you know what Dad meant?!” shouted Marjani tearfully, “You can’t even fuckin’ play Turf War!”

           Her eyes suddenly widened and she clapped her hand over her mouth. Dodge simply sighed. “Dodge, I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I-I just… it slipped out…” Dodge smirked. “It’s fine, Sis,” he reassured her, “Been this way all my life, after all.” “N-no, Dodge, I…” Marjani insisted, “It’s not your fault. What happened… you didn’t ask for that.” Dodge turned away from his sister, picking up a backpack next to his chair and slinging it over his shoulder.

           “Well, I mean, yeah,” he agreed, “But it’s why I’m here, isn’t it?” Marjani squinted at him quizzically. “Like, here, here,” Dodge clarified, gesturing to the studio around them as he turned back to his sister, “I’m up here ‘cause I can’t play Turf War. This is somethin’ I can do; I love makin’ music. And not to brag or anythin’, but I’m good at it. I’m here because I listened to Dad and I’m doin’ my best at what I can do.”

           He walked up to Marjani and placed his hand on her shoulder. “You’ve gotta ask yourself what ‘your best’ is supposed to be,” he continued, “Think about it, alright?” He walked past her and re-opened the door. “Let’s get out of here, Sis,” he added, turning back to her, “I’ve gotta lock up for the night before a quarter after 6.” “One last thing,” said Marjani, turning around and crossing her arms, “You didn’t play my jam for the match yesterday like I told you to. What gives?”

           “Spice Splat had two requests in for ‘Splattack,’” said Dodge, “You were the only one who requested ‘Metalopod.’” “Ugh, those fuckin’ dicks!” Marjani grumbled, throwing her hands up to her head, “‘Splattack’ is so fuckin’ lame!” Dodge chuckled and shook his head. “Maybe next time, Sis,” he suggested, “Come on, it’s gonna get late if we keep talkin’ here.” Marjani let out a grumbling sigh and followed Dodge out before the latter reached back into the studio to shut off the lights to the room and closed the door behind them. “Listen, how about I at least treat you to dinner?” asked Dodge.

           Marjani sighed and put her hands in her jacket pockets. “…Nah, I’ve got stuff back at my place,” she muttered, looking ahead down the hall instead of at her brother. “You sure?” asked Dodge, “If money’s tight, I can at least–” “–Don’t waste it on me,” interjected Marjani, “I’ll be fine.” Dodge sighed. “Alright, if you say so,” he yielded, “But please don’t skip on meals to get your fix.” “Whatever,” mumbled Marjani, walking ahead of Dodge and leaving him behind. Dodge stopped for a moment, sighing as he watched his sister walk away with her head hanging.

             Later that night, Amber was lying awake in her bed, unable to get any sleep. She, André, and Felicity had spent the whole day trying to find freelancers that would be willing to work with them, even just for their next match the following day. Unfortunately for them, Spice Splat’s widely-publicized Turf War season debut had made a mockery of the Outcasts, and, having seen the poor display the team had put on the day before, none of the freelancers they approached were willing to risk their reputations working with the team.

           She sighed restlessly, staring at her bedroom ceiling. There was no chance that the Outcasts would be able to keep up with opposing teams with just three of them; they needed to find a freelancer, but they were running out of time. With their match happening in the early afternoon the following day, they’d have to skip the morning strategy meeting trying to find someone.

           The outlook was bleak. Amber turned on her side, trying to fall asleep. She’d lost track of the hours; it had to be around 3AM by now. She sighed again, unable to bring herself to even close her eyes. The Outcasts had already been on shaky ground at best when there were four of them, but now… well, she tried not to think about it. After the way she’d acted, after the things she’d said, Marjani got what she wanted – solitude… right?

           Amber squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t believe what she was thinking. Was it the desperation setting in without a fourth team member? Or was she genuinely worried about her obstinate acquaintance? She couldn’t believe she was thinking about trying to patch things up with Marjani, and after the way she’d treated the whole team, she didn’t need, want, or deserve forgiveness… right?

           Amber turned back onto her back and pulled her pillow out from underneath her head, burying her face in it. ‘Please just fall asleep!’ she begged herself mentally, her conscience tugging at her thoughts. She didn’t want to be feeling this way anymore. She was right, Marjani was wrong, that was the end of it. She sighed once again as she put her pillow back under her head, wondering if Marjani was doing okay, wherever she was…

             Halfway across the city, in her own apartment, Marjani was just as restless as Amber. She threw her blanket off of herself, only to almost immediately pull it back over. She groaned helplessly, unable to get comfortable. She was exhausted, but couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard she tried. The food in her apartment was nearly gone, but she still wasn’t satisfied.

           She hadn’t gotten a single team to hire her on as a freelancer all day; her poor reputation had been broadcasted to the entire city thanks to that stupid match with Spice Splat. She threw her blanket off of her body and then pulled it back over herself again. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this terrible; it probably hadn’t been since the last time Spyke hadn’t let her buy anything. She wasn’t sure where else to turn without him, but he was like Dodge – he cared too much and wouldn’t let her buy anything if she wasn’t on track to making rent.

           “Stupid fuckin’ urchin…” she grumbled to herself, “Fuckin’ Dodge… fuckin’ losers…” She tossed and turned, further agitating herself with each odd lump and damaged spring in her mattress. Fighting back tears, she threw her blanket off her bed completely, only to regret the decision not a moment after. She tried in vain for a moment to get comfortable yet again, only to angrily sit up and swing her legs off the side of her bed.

           Marjani buried her face in her hands, gritting her teeth and trying not to start crying. She wrapped her arms around herself, hoping it would help her stay warm, to no avail. She set one foot down, beginning to stand up to try and locate her blanket in the darkness of her room. As she set the other foot down, she unexpectedly found it, only for it to slip out from underneath her. She lost her balance and tried to grab the bed, failing to do so in the pitch-blackness and falling to the floor anyway.

           Landing on her side, she groaned in pain before finally cracking and quietly beginning to sob. “Stupid… shitty…” she muttered, trying to hold herself together, “This is the fuckin’ worst…” She slowly grabbed her blanket from off the floor near her and threw it entirely over herself, including her head, not even caring to stand back up and get back in bed. She covered her face with her hands again, sobbing beneath the blanket over her situation.

           After a few minutes of this, Marjani finally sat back up, shaking uncontrollably and holding herself with the blanket wrapped around her upper body. She was running out of options; she needed money, and fast. No one would hire her as a freelancer knowing who she was. Her lack of skill at Turf War had been put on display for the entire city, and as much as she wanted to blame Spice Splat, or Amber and the other Outcasts, or anyone but herself, she knew the truth. She hated to admit it, but she was miserable. She didn’t want to be feeling this way anymore, and she was going to have to make a concession she knew she wouldn’t like.

           At least she remembered that the Outcasts had another match the next day, so hopefully she wouldn’t have to endure another night like this. Crawling back into her bed, Marjani prayed that she could figure out the right words to convince them to at least let her play one last match with them while she tried to salvage her dignity, and that they hadn’t already found a freelancer who would be far more appealing to them.

             Amber groaned and rubbed her temples as the three Outcasts stood inside of Inkopolis Tower, their match with the Devil Rays being less than half an hour away. Not only had she overslept once she finally fell asleep, something she was loath to do, but the team had been unsuccessful in persuading any freelancers to join them for the match at the last minute. The lack of sleep had given her a splitting headache, and the Outcasts were up a creek without a paddle.

           Her teammates were unreadable: She imagined André was masterfully concealing his irritation at her, but perhaps he was just experienced enough that all he really felt was disappointment. But even the usually cheerful Felicity seemed out of sorts, as though she was harboring some resentment at the situation. The more she thought about it, the more Amber was beginning to hate herself for letting it come to this. She hated herself for making her teammates feel this way about her, and she hated herself for assuming they did, even if they didn’t.

           But how could they not? She had failed as a captain on all accounts. Any rational Inkling would hold her responsible. And she was responsible for it. She could shift the blame onto Marjani all she wanted, but it was ultimately her who gave up and threatened to kick Marjani off the team instead of trying harder to convince her to start listening. It was utterly unlike a good captain to lose a battle with their patience. But the more Amber got angry at herself about it all, the more her headache flared up.

           “Are you going to be okay, Amber?” asked Felicity, displaying concern for her captain’s well-being that Amber wasn’t certain she could trust. Was she just being paranoid, and was Felicity truly that innocent and caring? Amber started thinking about her self-loathing again for even considering that Felicity might be anything but insincere, when everything she had said and done to that point suggested otherwise. “I’m alright,” she replied, “Just… couldn’t sleep.”

           Felicity opened her mouth as though she wanted to pry further into the matter, but fell quiet before speaking up as she realized the likely culprit for Amber’s restlessness the night before, and, uncertain of her captain’s feelings on the matter, didn’t want to risk reopening the wound to her pride. She instead looked down at her feet and cupped her hands together as though she was trying to look busy with something innocuous like counting her shoelaces.

           André scratched his head and adjusted his Roller’s bag on his shoulder, glancing over to Amber as she continued to breathe deeply, trying to get her headache to abate. Finally, he sighed and broke the awkward silence. “You sure about this?” he asked, “We don’t have to go through without a fourth player.” Amber looked at him, her face a combination of uncertainty and confusion, devoid of anger as she realized that he was right. They could back out of the match; it would count as a forfeit and another loss, but it could buy them enough time to find someone to replace Marjani.

           “I-it would count against us on our records,” replied Amber shakily, “Worse than a loss would. And we won’t get paid.” “True,” replied André, “Nobody wants to bail. But it might be our best option.” Amber hung her head and sighed again. André was right: Three against four was going to be an even worse humiliation than their past matches had been. At least this way, they would be admitting defeat rather than looking desperate, if their reputations hadn’t already been sullied enough by their match with Spice Splat. It would at least be more dignified than going into a match that would no doubt top their last one as their worst defeat.

           Just as Amber was considering André’s suggestion seriously, she heard the doors to the tower open. A single Inkling was standing there in the doorway, seeming almost hesitant to walk in. His lime green tentacles were tied up in the usual fashionable style for boys. His facial features were completely obscured behind a Gas Mask, but his sickly pale skin was practically glowing past the edges of the mask. He wore a puffy Armor Jacket Replica and boots to match, and held himself in an odd fashion: He was slightly hunched forward, with his feet spread just a little too far apart and his knees slightly bent to compensate, his arms dangling more in front of him than at his sides.

           After a quiet, tense moment, the strange-looking Inkling finally entered the room. He walked over to Amber and stopped, maintaining his strange stance all the while. Completely unable to see his eyes through the mask, she wasn’t sure if he was scanning her entire appearance or just staring straight at her face. André and Felicity watched in silence and uneasiness. “Uh…” Amber said, blinking a few times in utter confusion, “C-can I help you?” “You with the other team?” asked André.

           The Inkling simply shook his head at André’s question instead of speaking up to respond. He reached into a pocket on his jacket and pulled out a small card, handing it to Amber. She took it in her hand, looking back and forth between it and him, trying to discern his intentions. She finally looked at the card long enough to read it. All that was on it was two letters, which she proceeded to read out loud: “VX?” she asked, “What does that mean?”

           André stepped forward, crossing his arms as if to passive-aggressively intimidate the mysterious Inkling. “So, you’re him,” he said confidently, “The one they call ‘VX.’” “Fill me in here, André,” Amber requested, “Who’s VX?” “Turf War battler who hides his true identity,” explained André, “Showed up out of nowhere this summer and hit S-Rank before the season started. Apparently tried out for Toxink, but they hired someone else. Registered as a freelancer now. Doesn’t let teams come to him, just picks out who he wants to work with himself.”

           “That’s… a strange way of finding work,” interjected Felicity, “But…” “But we could use just that kind of help right now,” countered Amber, “I’m just gonna assume you somehow found out we really need a fourth player today, and that’s why you’re here.” After another awkward moment of what seemed to be staring, VX nodded slowly. “This is…” Amber looked to André and Felicity each in turn, “This is too good to be true.”

           She looked back to VX. “What’s your price?” she asked. VX shook his head, pointing to the card in her hand and motioning his finger in a circle. Amber turned the card over as per his silent instruction. “Compensation to be negotiated post-match depending on results,” she read out loud, “There’s no way you… seriously?” VX nodded once more. André leaned forward, earning acknowledgment from VX. He stared into the impenetrable Gas Mask over the other Inkling’s face for a moment. “What… are you?” he asked quietly, “…Wealthy family? Thrill-seeker?”

           VX simply shrugged while letting out a muffled gravelly noise that vaguely resembled a chuckle, his first vocalization since entering the building. “He’s S-Rank,” continued Amber in awe, “André, we don’t just have a fourth player here. With a guy like this, we could actually have a shot at winning. We could get everyone to forget how badly we played in the match the other day.” “…Terms are risky, could be expensive,” insisted André, “…And he would have every right to take credit for a victory.” “It’s better than just going in with three of us, though!” insisted Amber, trying to restrain her excitement at the prospect of his offer, “VX, what weapon do you use?”

           VX simply reached around to his back, where a bag containing a weapon was slung. He took the bag off of his back and unzipped it, removing a Hero Charger Replica from within. Amber looked to Felicity, who had a slightly crestfallen expression. “Oh…” she mumbled, “We… we have a Charger on the team.” She turned back to VX. “I-I don’t know,” she continued uneasily, “Two Chargers, even one being an S-Rank player… It’s not good balance. I was… sort of hoping that you’d be, like, an Inkbrush user, or a Slosher, or–”

           “–A Splatling user?”

           Amber, Felicity, and André each turned to the doors to the tower, which had just reopened a moment before. VX’s gaze moved more lazily, his thoughts about this development as imperceptible as anything else about him, as the Outcasts each looked back and forth at each other. Standing in the doorway, much to their surprise, was Marjani, with darker bags than usual under her eyes and a serious, though unruffled look on her face. The bag containing her Heavy Splatling was slung on her back. She walked inside, not quite as close to the team as VX was, though that made Amber a little more comfortable than he had.

           “H-hey,” Marjani stammered, seeming as if she was trying to say something more. She looked down as the words caught in her throat. “Hey…” replied Amber, likewise struggling to say anything further. “I, uh…” Marjani started, “I… haven’t been havin’ much luck with findin’ freelance work. I remembered we… uh, you guys… had a match today, and thought maybe… I mean… well, looks like you’ve found someone already.”

           Marjani turned to leave, a lump forming in her throat. She couldn’t force herself to say it; she was too prideful to admit her mistake and apologize. As the doors re-opened in front of her, Amber finally spoke up again. “Actually,” she interrupted, stopping Marjani in her tracks, “VX was just… offering his services now; we haven’t accepted yet.” VX looked to her, then back to Marjani, before backing away from Amber a few steps. Marjani looked back at Amber and walked up to her to the space vacated by VX moments before.

           “He’s a Charger user,” added Amber, “We don’t really need two of those.” Marjani looked down at her feet, trying not to show any signs of weakness like crying. “A freelancer with a Splatling…” started Amber, “Well… it would be better variety. And… on short notice like this… What’s your asking price?” “No price!” blurted Marjani, “I-I… I just need to get into a match at all.” “Better than ‘negotiating after the match,’” grumbled André quietly, glancing in VX’s direction.

           VX turned to André, clearly having heard his comment, but, instead of seeming irritated by it, nodded in agreement. He placed his Hero Charger Replica back in his bag and zipped it up, slinging it back over his shoulder and making his way toward the door, leaving the building no less enigmatic than when he’d arrived. As the doors closed behind him, André shook his head. “What’s with him?” he mumbled. “Okay, this is… well,” Amber stammered, “Alright, yeah. It’s fine. We’ve got four players, and you’ve got a team to play on. That’s… yeah. This’ll work.”

           Marjani sighed with relief before removing her Splatling from its bag, placing the empty bag along the wall behind André and Felicity. The others did the same with their weapons, each doing last-minute checks to make sure that everything was in working order. Amber avoided eye contact with Marjani as they waited for the other team to show up, which wasn’t long: Within seconds, the Outcasts’ opponents, the Devil Rays, arrived at the tower, the doors opening before them.

           The team’s sniper captain, Roche, led the way, followed by his second-in-command, the calculating, stoic Inkbrusher Tara, the team’s young Slosher user, Thurston, and their newest addition, a Blaster-wielding girl named Kiana. “Amber!” exclaimed Roche enthusiastically, “Good to see you on the field. I told you you’d find a team!” “Thanks, Roche,” replied Amber, “…I’m surprised you guys took so long to get here. We’re usually the ones who are late.”

           “The strategy meeting took twelve minutes longer than usual,” clarified Tara, “We had to catch the next train after the one we usually take, which cost us more time.” Amber nodded in understanding, though a little put off by Tara’s analytical precision. “Now then, let’s not waste any more time, shall we?” added Roche with a grin, taking his E-liter 3K off of his back, “We can catch up after the match if you want.” Amber simply nodded and motioned for the Outcasts to follow her. The battlers each took their places on top of the grates that would lead them to their destination: Arowana Mall.

           Just as the four Devil Rays transformed and passed through the grates to make their way to the battlefield, Amber breathed in deeply before turning around to her teammates. “Guys, I’m sorry we didn’t have the strategy meeting today, so it’s going to get hectic out there. More than ever, I need you guys to trust your instincts and know when to fire, when to retreat, when to support each other,” she apologized pleadingly, “I know I haven’t been the best captain, or even a good one, and that’s not fair. I know I’m asking you to compensate for my shortcomings, and I’m sorry.”

           Her eyes met with Marjani’s as she spoke, and she stopped briefly to find the right words before she dared to continue. “Marjani…” she stammered, “I’m sorry for everything. For everything I said. Please, just this once–” “–I know,” interrupted Marjani, “And don’t be sorry.” Amber was silently stunned, unsure of how best to react to Marjani’s unexpected change in demeanor. Finally, she composed herself, nodded to Marjani, and turned back around.

           “And Marjani,” she added, looking back over her shoulder one last time. Marjani attentively looked straight into Amber’s eyes, weakly struggling to keep her own open. “Please… just do your best,” Amber concluded. After a moment, Marjani silently nodded, and the four transformed into their alternate forms, following after the Devil Rays.

             The four Outcasts arrived at Arowana Mall not long after, their ink color changed to a yellow closely matching Amber’s natural color. Marjani gripped her Splatling tightly, trying her best to focus. The only sleep she’d gotten the night before was when she’d finally passed out from exhaustion, but she couldn’t let that stop her, not today. She had made it this far; now she just had a point to prove. She straightened out her posture and glanced between her three teammates. Only Felicity noticed that Marjani was on edge and glanced back at her over her shoulder, giving her a slight smile and a nod.

           Marjani nodded back at Felicity and began waiting. Since the team had lagged behind the Devil Rays in getting to the battlefield, it wasn’t long before the countdown to the match began: “Three!” the voice on the loudspeakers blared, “Two!” Amber took one last forlorn look at Marjani before turning her attention back forward. “One!” shouted the voice, “Go!” The Outcasts leapt off of their spawn point, spreading out.

           “André, take the side path to the right! Felicity, follow him to the end of it, we need you on the ledge overlooking the center!” barked Amber, pointing to the areas to which she was referring. André and Felicity broke off to the right as per Amber’s orders, with André inking a wide path for Felicity to swim through behind him. “Marjani, you’re with me! The more we ink back here around the base, the further they’ll have to go to take turf from us if they can get past the middle!”

           “Got it!” Marjani replied dutifully, “Up here or down below?” “I’ll take the lower areas moving forward,” replied Amber, “I’ll try and hold them off at the center with Felicity so you can clean up and ink as much as you can back here. Once our base is covered enough, come back us up.” Marjani gave Amber a thumbs-up as the captain dove off of the sheer drop in front of the spawn point, down into a lower area, inking a path of ink straight forward to try and reach the center of the map quickly.

           As André reached the end of the path he and Felicity had taken, he leapt off the edge into the middle of the arena, leaving her up behind him. “André!” Felicity shouted, noticing something he hadn’t seen, “Wait!” André landed with a thud and raised his Roller, turning toward the Devil Rays’ side of the field and preparing himself to try and hold the enemy off.

           Suddenly, he was struck by a single shot of ink from his right, causing Felicity to recoil into her squid form and retreat to the safety of the Outcasts’ ink as her teammate was splatted: Roche had gotten to a sniper’s perch on the same side of the field as Felicity, rather than directly across from where she was. He was further into the Devil Rays’ territory than she was into the Outcasts’, but close enough that his E-liter 3K could easily target opponents in the center, where he’d just splatted André.

           Felicity fired a few shots of her own ink across the center from behind the corner protecting her from Roche’s range and position. He knew she was there, but she knew where he was, too. Though he was within her range, there was no way she’d be able to hit him first if she tried to splat him, especially since she was right-handed and would have to put herself into his line of sight just to take aim. Her best options were either beating a retreat, holding her current position, or attempting to slip through the middle to the Devil Rays’ equivalent of where she currently was. Without André there to cover her, the latter was too risky to attempt. Hoping to avoid being splatted like him, she chose to try inking the center from her current position, holding it for as long as she could.

           As André respawned, he growled. “E-Liter snipers…” he muttered, “Forgot how annoying they are…” He was surprised when he noticed that Marjani was near the spawn point, inking the Outcasts’ side of the field as best as she could, filling in the corners and other sizable areas missed by her teammates as they had first left the base area.

           “That was quick,” Marjani observed as she inked, glancing at André, “What happened?” “Marjani?” André asked in confusion. “What?!” snapped Marjani, “Kinda busy here!” “You’re… inking?”  asked André. “Yeah, Amber told me to ink, so I’m inkin’!” replied Marjani, “Relax, I’ll be there to bail your asses out once I’m done here!” André looked at Marjani quizzically for a moment before transforming into his squid form and swimming straight forward toward the center of the battlefield.

           As Amber reached the center of the arena, she heard Felicity call out. “Watch out, Amber!” she shouted, “Roche got here first!” Heeding Felicity’s warning, Amber ducked back into her ink and backed away, just before one of Roche’s shots hit where she had been standing moments before. “Where are the others?!” asked Amber, “And did André–” “–Splatted!” interjected Felicity, firing her shots across the center area in a miniature tug-of-war with Roche, a game of cat-and-mouse in which neither could keep the center of the battlefield covered in their team’s color for long.

           “Have you spotted the other Devil Rays yet?” asked Amber, covering the open area at the base of the raised center portion of the mall’s battlefield. “I can’t get a good look!” replied Felicity, “Roche has me pinned down over here!” Amber swam up the ink covering the wooden slope to the center area, putting herself into Roche’s range. “One distraction, coming right–” she started to say, only to be interrupted by a sudden rush of ink splatting her mid-sentence – Roche’s teammates had all shown up at the center area just as she reached the peak.

           “Amber!” shouted Felicity, transforming back into her squid form and retreating as Thurston spotted and began pursuing her, climbing up the small wall in front of her now that he, Kiana, and Tara had taken the center area. As the other two began to make their way down the slope that Amber had been swimming up moments before, Kiana suddenly found herself assaulted by André as he sprang out of the ink unexpectedly, having snuck up on the two, courtesy of his Ninja Squid ability.

           Having splatted Kiana, André crashed back down into the ink in his massive squid form, vanishing once more. “It has been a while, Giant Squid,” mused Tara, “I was looking forward to a rematch with you all last year. You disappointed me.” As André sprang out of the ink behind her, she whipped around, using her Inkbrush to block his Roller, though only through great effort. “Flattered… that you remember me,” murmured André quietly, before putting more force into his weapon, bringing it down on Tara and splatting her under the crushing weight, “…And it’s ‘Kraken,’ not ‘Giant Squid.’”

           Amber respawned and shook off the shock of her unexpected splatting. “Marjani!” she shouted down to Marjani, who was moving forward into the lower part of the central area. She transformed and made her way through the team’s ink at top speed to try and get to her teammate as soon as possible. Springing back out of the ink, she noticed that André had dealt with Kiana and Tara, and was already re-inking the upward slope to the center where she’d been splatted.

           “Change of plans!” she shouted to both Marjani and André, “We need to make a push while they’re down two! We’ve got a small window right now to get Roche off of that sniper’s perch!” “Amber, up there!” yelled Marjani, firing up her Splatling and letting loose a volley to an upper area where Thurston had cornered Felicity. Just before her ink bullets made contact and splatted him, however, he sloshed a wave of ink over Felicity, splatting her and sending her back to the spawn.

           “S-sorry!” stuttered Marjani, “I-I just… instinct kicked in and–” “No, no, that was good!” Amber assured her teammate, “Felicity’s out for a second, but we’ve got a little time before Kiana and Tara get back in the game, and now Thurston’s down, too. We’ve got a chance here, but we need to push now and get Roche!” Marjani and André both nodded from their positions while inking whatever unclaimed turf they could find. “André, I know you’re not gonna like this, but I need you to lead the charge!” requested Amber.

           André wordlessly began moving forward, using an advertisement-covered sign stand conveniently located in the middle as cover from Roche’s shots. Amber and Marjani followed behind him, inking whatever they could from behind the sign stand. André moved out from behind the safety of cover, putting him in Roche’s line of sight. The opposing captain began to take aim at André with a grin, only to see Marjani charging up her Splatling out of the corner of his eye. Faced with the dilemma of who to splat, Roche shifted his aim to her, the more immediate threat.

           However, before he could release his shot, a Suction Bomb landed at his feet. “Crap!” he shouted, releasing his charged-up ink haphazardly while attempting to run back down the ramp-like grate from his sniper’s perch and out of the bomb’s range, not transforming into his squid form to avoid falling through it into the water below. The bomb went off behind him, covering his back in ink. As he stumbled from the impact, trying to flee the assault, he was met with a volley of ink bullets from Marjani’s Splatling finally letting loose, finishing him off.

           “Alright, we can’t let up now!” yelled Amber, “Let’s back up André!” With Roche’s reign of terror over the center area halted, the two made their way forward, into the Devil Rays’ territory. André carved a path with his Roller straight forward into the area just below the Devil Rays’ spawn area, with Amber and Marjani spreading out and inking turf to the left and right behind him. “I can’t believe it, we’re actually on their side!” exclaimed Amber, “I can’t believe that work–!”

           Amber’s celebration was cut short as Tara suddenly attacked her from behind, splatting her mid-sentence once more. As Marjani was stunned by Tara’s sudden appearance, the latter remained where she was, disappearing into her team’s ink momentarily as Marjani tried to charge up her Splatling. A small circle had appeared on the ground where Amber had been seconds earlier, indicating that Felicity was trying to Super Jump to aid the others. “Shit!” shouted Marjani, “No!”

           Felicity touched down from her Super Jump on the same spot where Amber had just been splatted, finding herself stuck in the blue ink left behind by Tara splatting the captain. Marjani unleashed a spray of ink bullets to try and free her teammate or hit Tara, to no avail as the latter sprang back out of the ink and swung her Inkbrush deftly, splatting Felicity the same way she had just caught Amber off-guard.

           “Fuckin’…!” Marjani growled, trying to aim at Tara, who placed her Inkbrush on the ground and evaded Marjani’s shots at high-speed, her expression unchanging as she closed in on the Splatling user. “Man, just when I thought we were doin’ good!” Marjani grumbled just before Tara reached her. She dove into the ink at her feet and retreated, trying to get away before Tara could splat her. As she reached the area where André had been inking just in front of the Devil Rays’ spawn point, she realized it was still covered in the other team’s ink.

           “André?!” she shouted in confusion, before spotting Roche atop the slope that led up to the spawn point, aiming his charger right at her. “Sorry, mate!” he apologized half-heartedly before releasing his charge, splatting her on the spot. “You were right, Tara,” Roche mused casually, “They took the bait.” “Of course, I was right,” asserted Tara, pushing her glasses up before beginning to re-ink the turf that was covered in the Outcasts’ yellow shade.

           As Marjani respawned back at the Outcasts’ base, she spotted Felicity up ahead, on top of one of the walls separating the open central area from the bases, attempting to re-ink as much turf as she could from above, while Amber and André were attempting to catch and splat Thurston and Kiana down below. “Wha– How did they–?!” she asked in surprise before beginning to charge up her Splatling, firing ink bullets forward to dot the area below in an effort to help Amber and André before jumping down to join them.

           “When did they get here?! How are they in our base?!” she asked incredulously. “It was a trap!” Amber explained, “Roche put himself in a place that made it hard for just one of us to splat him so that he and Tara could take us all out at once on their side when he respawned! Thurston and Kiana took our back path into our side while we were up ahead and kept Felicity from getting through to where we were!”

           “Shit!” Marjani cursed as she tried to take aim at Thurston and Kiana, who were doing their best to keep the entire team occupied. She could see Roche and Tara moving forward, retaking the center area. André was finally able to swing his Roller through Thurston, splatting him and leaving only Kiana, who retreated to the advancing Roche and Tara’s side as the former took aim at Felicity. “Felicity, Bubbler!” shouted Amber.

           Felicity pressed a button on the side of her Classic Squiffer, activating her Bubbler at Amber’s command, just in time for Roche’s shot to bounce off of it, though not without pushing her backwards, off of the wall. “Eeee!” she yelped as she fell unexpectedly, only to be caught by André, passing the effect of her Bubbler to him. “Quickly!” yelled Amber as she tapped André’s arm momentarily, picking up the same shielding effect. She reached for Marjani, and the two grasped each other’s hands, giving the shield to Marjani as the four Outcasts lined up to face the three Devil Rays.

           “Now!” commanded Amber, releasing the first volley of fire at their opponents, causing the Devil Rays to stop in their tracks and fire back at the four, who were protected by Felicity’s Bubbler. André pushed forward, with only a few seconds to try and splat the opposing team before the shield ran out. As he neared the four, Marjani and Felicity both unleashed long-ranged shots at the Devil Rays, with Felicity just barely missing Kiana, though impeding her movement enough for André to close the gap and splat her.

           “Marjani!” shouted Amber as the Bubblers ran out, glancing back to her teammate, “Inkstrike just ahead of us!” Marjani nearly jumped from shock as she realized that she actually had her Special ready for once – something she normally lost all too quickly from being splatted too often. As the voice on the loudspeakers began to count down the last seconds of the match, Marjani activated her Inkstrike, taking aim on a small tablet-like device and firing the missile high into the air.

           “Inkoming!” Roche warned his teammates as he and Tara retreated back a short distance, the Inkstrike landing between them and the Outcasts in a swirling vortex of yellow ink, giving the Outcasts enough breathing room to push forward briefly before the countdown finally reached zero. As the judge’s whistle blew, each of the battlers stopped where they were. Marjani took another look at the tablet she’d used to aim her Inkstrike. She sighed as she stuffed it back into her pocket, having already seen an aerial view of the final turf coverage.

           She rubbed her eyes wearily as Amber fell to her hands and knees, exhausted from the stress of the match combined with her lack of sleep. “I-it wasn’t enough…” she stuttered, “I thought we had been doing so well… We were on their side…” “Hey, now,” Roche interjected, stepping forward and wading through the yellow ink. He held his hand out to Amber. “It was a good match,” he replied reassuringly, “It was closer than you think, I’d say.” Amber sighed and pushed herself back onto her feet, though not taking Roche’s hand to do so.

           “S-sorry,” she stammered, “I-it’s just been a rough few days for us lately.” “Do not give up yet,” insisted Tara, “Our strategy may have worked in the end, but you and your Outcasts certainly did not respond the way I was anticipating the entire time. Unpredictability is an asset, if you can harness it.” “I-I…” Amber hesitated, “Th-thanks.” She finally took Roche’s yet-extended hand and shook it. “Let’s get back to the tower,” she said.

             As the Outcasts exited Inkopolis Tower, another loss now under their belts, Amber sighed in defeat. “Well…” she mused, “Now what?” She turned to the other three. “I… I guess… we need to start looking for…” her voice trailed off as her eyes met with Marjani’s. Marjani looked at her feet and sighed, making up her mind. “Amber…” she mumbled, “…I can’t do this.” “Wait, what?” asked Amber, “‘This?’” “I can’t be a freelancer,” replied Marjani, “No one wants to hire me knowin’ who I am. I-I can’t do it. Not again. It’s… I’m miserable. A-and… and I’m sorry. For what I said the other day.”

           Amber looked to André and Felicity, uncertain of what to say. André looked away for a moment reluctantly before turning his gaze back to her and nodding silently. Felicity watched Marjani with a weak smile as Amber held her hand out. “We… we never even got the paperwork for you to officially quit,” Amber replied, “I know we both said stuff we regret, but maybe… maybe we should just try again.” Marjani looked back up at her, trying not to cry. “R-really?” she stuttered, “Y-you sure?”

           “Marjani…” started Amber, “I don’t know exactly what it is that drove you to do it, but today you showed me that you’re not impossible to work with, like I said. I know I fell for their trap and gave… shitty orders, but you still followed not just my instructions, but your instincts. Putting those two together got us closer to winning than we’ve been in any other match so far.” She held her hand further forward, and Marjani took it in her own.

           “Let’s start over,” she continued, “Hi. My name’s Amber. I’m the captain of the Outcasts.” “I’m Marjani,” replied Marjani with a weak smile, “I’m a Splatling user, rank C.” As the two separated, Felicity stepped forward. “A-are you sure about joining back up with a bunch of losers, Marjie?” she asked, before putting her hand to her mouth and correcting herself, “I-I mean… Marjani?”

           “Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” Marjani confirmed, “A-and, you can call me ‘Marjie…’ you know, if you want… L-Lissy.” “‘Lissy?’” Felicity blinked a few times in confusion before realizing what Marjani meant, “Lissy! Marjie gave me a nickname!” She leapt forward, embracing Marjani tightly. The latter smiled sheepishly as Amber began to quietly chuckle. “Alright, alright,” Marjani said, putting her arms around Felicity to reciprocate the hug, “Take it down a notch there, cupcake.”

           Felicity happily separated from Marjani and moved to Amber’s side. “Come on, let’s go grab a bite,” said Amber, taking her phone out, “I’m exhausted. I need something to eat, a good long nap… and I’ve gotta bunch of spam to delete again.” She and Felicity turned away from the other two and began walking away. Marjani started to walk after them, but felt a large hand on her shoulder, looking up to see André. His expression was less than enthusiastic, but didn’t quite border on anger.

           “This doesn’t just undo the things you said,” he murmured sternly. “I know,” Marjani assured him. André leaned in closer so only she could hear him. “It’s a start, but it’s not as easy as just forgiving and forgetting,” he added softly, “You’ve still got a long way to go.” Marjani nodded in agreement. “But you’re on the right track,” André continued, “For their sake as much as your own, please try to keep it that way.” “No promises,” replied Marjani, putting her hands in her pockets as André let go of her shoulder and the two began following after Amber and Felicity.

           “…But I’ll do my best.”

SPLATOON: THE OUTCASTS

EPISODE END

           Dodge strummed his acoustic guitar quietly, trying to tease out which chord he wanted to use next in the melody he had been building in his head. Creating music calmed him more than just listening to something that someone else had composed, but his zen-like trance was soon broken when his ringtone, DJ Lee Fish’s “Lookin’ Fresh,” began to sound off in his pocket. He set his guitar aside carefully and pulled his phone from his pocket, tapping the screen to answer it.

           “Hey, Boss,” he greeted his manager on the other end, sitting back on his couch, “…Yeah, just me… Alright, lay it on me…” His eyes widened as he listened to his boss talk on the other end, before he soon began to grin. “You’re jokin’, right? You pullin’ my leg?” he asked incredulously, “…Oh my cod, you’re serious.”

           André hefted the bag containing his Krak-On Splat Roller up onto his shoulder so that it sat more comfortably. He was trailing behind his three teammates, plodding along in large strides as the three of them hurried at a brisker pace; Amber leading the others, Felicity practically clinging to the captain, and Marjani further back, closer to André himself. “Come on, keep up, guys!” cheered Felicity energetically. “Yeah, we’re comin’, princess,” sneered Marjani in annoyance before lowering her voice enough that she thought only André would hear her mumble, “…Ugh… fuckin’ mornin’ people.”

           “You do realize that all of us got up before you, right?” retorted Amber, glancing over her shoulder, “I think you’re the only one of us who doesn’t know how to set an alarm.” Marjani squinted and pulled a disdainful face at the comment when Amber looked away. “Aw, don’t be so hard on her, Amber,” replied Felicity, “She just has a different sleep schedule from us.” “Well, she can’t if we’re gonna start playing better,” argued Amber firmly, “She’s missed two of our practice sessions so far and was late to the other two.”

           “Oh, whatever,” scoffed Marjani, “Like I need to fuckin’ practice.” “Marjie, language,” Felicity replied, reprimanding her teammate. “Seriously, girl, I keep tellin’ you, I don’t give a shit,” insisted Marjani, “Knock it off already.” André simply sighed as his arguing teammates fell silent, Amber and Marjani clearly not happy with each other, or with Felicity’s attempts at mediating. How were they ever going to win a single match like this, constantly at each other’s throats? They had their work cut out for them; that much was certain.

           “Who the hell are we even playin’ today?” asked Marjani. “Well, if you’d been at the strategy meeting at the café this morning, you’d know,” replied Amber in a passive-aggressive tone, still clearly not done fuming about Marjani’s apathy despite her effort to maintain an outward calm. “…So… who is it?” asked Felicity, “You… didn’t actually say at the meeting which team we’re playing against.” “D-didn’t I?” stuttered Amber, “It was… um… you know, uh…”

           She sighed in defeat. “Alright, fine, I forgot the other team’s name,” she relented, “All I can remember is that it had ‘splash’ or ‘splat’ in it… or something.” André’s ears perked up, and his eyes narrowed perceptively as he looked up from his own feet to the captain as the group continued walking together, now entering Inkopolis Plaza. “Splat Jam?” asked Marjani, “…I hate those blue losers. Captain’s a bitch, and their sniper’s a fuckin’ E-Liter. Their new Roller’s a total noob, but at least he’s kinda cute.”

           “No, it’s not Splat Jam,” Amber pondered, shaking her head with a pensive look on her face. “What about Team Petal Splash?” asked Felicity. “Not Petal Splash, either,” replied Amber as the team finally reached Inkopolis Tower at the north end of the plaza, “I tried out for Petal Splash over the summer; I’d remember if it was them. They’re… not exactly forgettable. Here, I’ll look up the e-mail the League sent me…” She reached into her pocket and pulled her cell phone out, opening up her e-mail. “One new…?” she asked, distracted by another message she’d since gotten, “…Ugh, no, just spam again…”

           As Amber continued looking for the e-mail notifying her of the match scheduling, the automatic doors bearing the official logo of the Turf War League parted in front of the team so they could enter. Amber kept looking down at her phone as she stepped through the doors, still trying to remember or find the name of their opponents. André slowed slightly as the doors closed behind him, his eyes almost widening in surprise as he finally spoke up.

           “Spice Splat.”

           “Yeah!” exclaimed Amber, snapping her fingers and looking back over her shoulder to André with a smile, “Spice Splat! That’s who it–” She interrupted herself, looking forward once more when she noticed where André was looking, only to spot the four squids comprising the opposing team he had just named standing there, lined up and waiting for them. “…Oh,” she muttered flatly in embarrassment, “They’re… already here.”

           Their four opponents certainly made for a memorable image: One of the two standing in the middle, a smirking girl, was wearing a Squid Nordic hat, Hunter Hi-Tops, and what appeared to be a modified Layered Anchor LS, with the image of a stylized red pepper in place of the anchor logo iconic to SquidForce brand gear. Her tentacles were a striking red – Amber hadn’t even been aware that red could be a natural color for Inklings – and gave her a downright fiery look with her orange eyes.

           The Inkling standing on the far left, to the right of the reddish girl, was th tallest of the four, a very dark-skinned young man wearing a gray Forge Octarian Jacket and Roasted Brogues. His Special Forces Beret, though obscuring his tentacles, was colored yellow, matching the color of his eyebrows, and had a button pinned to it with the same stylized pepper logo as the first girl’s shirt. His eyes were narrowed, his brow furrowed, and his mouth curled into a slight frown. The contours of his face were crossed by what appeared to be some sort of scarification – three dark lines extended straight down his cheeks from his brown eyes, while four more came up around the underside of his chin, nearly reaching his bottom lip. His hands were held behind his back and his feet were firmly planted in a strong, militaristic stance.

           The second girl of the team, standing on the other side of the first, was a graceful, beautiful young woman, with an admirably slender, well-proportioned body and just the right amount of understated makeup to accentuate her facial features and her unblemished brown skin. Her pink eyes and the red bindi on her forehead stood in stark contrast to her lime green tentacles, the color of which extended to the coloration on her dress and shoes. The green band on her left wrist bore a decal of the same pepper logo seen on her the other girl’s shirt. A warm smile broke out on her face as her eyes met with André’s from across the room.

           The fourth Inkling was an olive-skinned boy with his orange tentacles tied up at the top of his head. His eyes were partially obscured by 18K Aviators, with the golden color of both those and his Gold Hi-Tops complementing his White Inky Rider jacket. His arms were folded and a massive smirk was plastered on his face as he watched the Outcasts walk in. He freed up one hand to run it along his head, as if making sure his tentacles were slicked back properly and would look presentable.

           “Took youse long enough,” he jeered, “We only got ten minutes ‘til da match is s’posed ta start.” The red-tentacled girl smiled. “André…” she addressed the gargantuan member of the Outcasts, “It’s been a while.” “Yeah… it has,” André agreed morosely. “Uh… wait, what?” Amber questioned in utter confusion, looking back and forth between André and the opposing team, “André, you know these guys?” André nodded slowly before sighing in resignation. “Yeah, I know ‘em,” he confirmed.

           “They’re my ex-teammates.”

           The Outcasts were silently stunned. “I’m sorry, they’re your WHAT?!” Amber finally exclaimed in disbelief after a few moments. “Ex-teammates?!” added Felicity. André sighed again and hung his head. “Hoped it wouldn’t come to this…” he mumbled, “Really didn’t want to go up against you guys…” “…Did you two not know about this?” asked Marjani nonchalantly.

           “I just moved here, remember?” asked Amber. “What’s your excuse, cupcake?” Marjani asked Felicity. “I-I… uh… I haven’t really been able to keep up with these sorts of things,” Felicity stammered. “Wow, so you guys don’t know anythin’ about the Spice Splat scandal from last year?” Marjani started. “Marjani–” André started, as if to stop his teammate from bringing up the story.

           “–So André da Kraken has a new posse, eh?” interrupted the orange-tentacled boy with a cocky smirk, “Made yourself a new team, did youse? Dey look like a buncha rookies.” “Butch,” said the red-tentacled girl sharply, though not ditching her smile to reprimand her teammate, “Be nice.” Butch’s grin vanished as he rubbed the back of his head. “Ah-heh, sorry, Boss,” he stuttered, “…Eh, fuggedaboutit.”

           “Don’t mind him, he wasn’t at the meeting this morning,” continued the girl, turning her attention back to André, “He would’ve known we were playing you guys today if he was there.” “Oh, fuggedaboutit,” protested Butch, “I was runnin’ an errand fuh my uncle, sue me!” “Sounds like someone I know…” muttered Amber under her breath, glancing in Marjani’s direction.

           “So, are you gonna introduce us?” asked the red-tentacled girl. “Guess I’m the only one who can,” André muttered reluctantly. He hefted his bag onto his shoulder once more and gestured to Felicity. “This is Felicity,” he began, “She’s our sniper.” Felicity quietly waved at the others with a smile. André then pointed over to Marjani. “That’s Marjani,” he continued, “Splatling user.” Marjani smiled slightly but rolled her eyes. Finally, he gestured to Amber. “And this is Amber,” he concluded, “Team captain. Splattershot-type.”

           “Wait, she’s da captain?” asked Butch, “I thought dis was your team, Kraken. She don’t look like no captain I evah seen.” “And you guys?” asked Amber, ignoring Butch’s comment. André took a few steps forward and placed himself between the two teams so he could see both. “This is Caroline. Some call her Caroline the Reaper,” he started, gesturing to the scarlet-tentacled girl, “Still running a Mini Splatling?” “Refurbished Mini now, actually,” replied Caroline, “And they don’t really call me the Reaper anymore. Not since I ditched the old Hydra.”

           André then pointed to the dark-skinned boy. “That’s Moruga the Scorpion,” he continued, “Team sniper. Kelp Splat Charger, right?” “Splatterscope now,” Moruga corrected him, finally speaking up with a smooth, deep voice, “I added a scope to de old stinger dis past season.” André broke off eye contact with Moruga for a moment and cleared his throat before continuing, gesturing to the green-tentacled girl.

           “Jolokia,” he continued, “Still the old Tri-Slosher?” Jolokia smiled at André. “I switched to the Nouveau,” she replied, “Just recently.” “New look,” added André, “They still call you the Ghost, or…?” “Not as much as they used to,” admitted Jolokia, “Not without Ninja Squid. But you’re still wearing your White Anchor, I see.”

           “Still fits and hasn’t worn thin,” André replied. “But your hat’s gone?” asked Caroline, “What happened to your old Takoroka?” André scratched behind his head awkwardly. “Uh… did some tests of my own this past year,” he said, “Rumors might not have been wrong. Decided it was safer to lose it.” “That’s a shame, those sub slot rolls were awesome,” replied Caroline, “Hope you haven’t gotten rusty. I don’t want you wishing you’d worn it today.”

           André simply grunted quietly in response before turning his attention to Butch. “I… don’t know who he is. He’s… my replacement,” he admitted, his rumbling, deep voice growing quieter as he spoke. “Allow me,” Butch offered haughtily, grabbing the collar of his leather jacket and tugging on it with a smirk as he stepped forward, “Butch Fontina, da one an’ only Inkbrush Prodigy. Someday, everyone’s gonna know dat name, and you’ll be flattered youse met me dis early in my career.”

           “Inkbrush… Prodigy…?” asked Felicity quietly. “Please, hold your applause,” continued Butch, shrugging smugly while continuing to grin at the Outcasts. “Wait, Fontina?” asked Marjani, “What, like those mafia guys?” “Mafia?!” protested Butch, “My family ain’t no mafia!” “Alright, Butch,” interjected Caroline, rolling her eyes, “That’s enough. Calm down. What your family does is its own business.” “Damn straight it is,” hissed Butch, glaring at Marjani, who shot a dirty look right back at him.

           “So, what’s this thing Marjani was saying about a ‘scandal?’” asked Amber. André looked down and avoided eye contact with his captain. “…Rather not talk about it,” he murmured quietly. “Long story short,” Caroline spoke up, “André lost a three-to-one vote and had to quit the team.” “Caroline…” muttered André. “A vote?” asked Felicity, “What about?” “It was… well…” Jolokia whispered, her warm smile having slowly vanished while the conversation started.

           Amber looked at the other team quizzically. “What happened to make you guys want him off the team?” she asked. André sighed. “My size,” he confessed, “It was my size, alright?” “A lot of teams dat we beat were lodging complaints wit’ de League about his size,” Moruga spoke up, “Dey said it gave him an unfair advantage.” “The team had a really good reputation, but it was taking a nosedive from all the gossip about him,” continued Caroline, “So we held a vote.” “And kicked him out?” asked Marjani, “Wow… Stone. Fuckin’. Cold.”

           “But it saved da team,” added Butch, “Dey hired me on quick ta make up f’rit.” “He was a good choice,” replied Caroline with a grin and a nod, “Not the same, but he’s pretty good.” “Pretty good?” questioned Butch, “I bet I’m just as good as da Kraken, maybe bettah!” “Well, only one way to find out,” replied Amber, crossing her arms, “Let’s take it to the turf.” Moruga finally took one of his hands out from behind his back, checking the watch on his left wrist. “And not a moment too soon,” he declared, “De match is about to start.”

           “Teams Spice Splat and Outcasts to Blackbelly Skatepark, please,” spoke a voice over the intercom system, “Spice Splat and the Outcasts, to Blackbelly Skatepark.” “Weapons out, everyone,” Caroline hollered, removing her Splatling from a bag that had been on the floor behind her, “Time to get out to Blackbelly. And André…” “Hm?” André grunted as he looked over to Caroline, pulling his Roller from its carrying pack and making sure it would unfold into its proper shape correctly. “No pulling any punches,” Caroline added, “Don’t you dare hold back on me.” André gritted his teeth and nodded. “Got it,” he muttered.

           The two teams proceeded to the center of the lobby, weapons in hand, where a pair of large grates on the floor awaited them. “Good luck out there,” said Caroline with a smile, “I’m eager to see how you guys play.” Marjani pulled her Skull Bandana up over her face with a sneer. “Yeah, whatever,” she scoffed, “Let’s get this shit over with.”

           Caroline responded by pulling the goggles on her Squid Nordic hat down over her eyes. “Hope youse rookies are ready,” boasted Butch, slinging his Permanent Inkbrush over his shoulder, “Things are about to get hot.” The eight players transformed into their cephalopod forms and dropped through the grate, taking a series of underground high-speed inkrails to their destination.

             As the quartet reverted into their bipedal forms from the pool of ink at the Blackbelly Skatepark spawn point, Amber made note of their team’s assigned color, a lime green – the tentacles on all four of them had changed to match the color as they arrived on the battlefield. She clutched her weapon in her right hand and flexed her left a few times to try and relax herself, feeling her teammates’ eyes practically boring into her skull from the left, right, and behind. Not daring to shoot even a brief glance at any of her teammates for fear of looking nervous, she steadied her stance and prepared herself for the beginning of the match, trying to ignore the cameras that were televising the match for all of Inkopolis to see.

           “Welcome to Blackbelly Skatepark, everyone!”

           Elsewhere in Inkopolis, the live feed of the match was suddenly accompanied by a young woman’s voice. In a booth overlooking the battlefield sat the two young Squid Sisters, Callie and Marie, preparing to commentate the match. “The next match is about to begin,” began Marie, “We’ve got a treat for you all today – Team Spice Splat has finally joined this year’s Turf War season.” “I’ve been waiting for this one!” added Callie, “They haven’t had a single match since the season started, so we haven’t gotten to see them in action since before the off-season!”

           “For those of you who aren’t in the know, Spice Splat was founded a few years back and shot up through the ranks. Some of the most talented squids in Inkopolis have played on this team, including legends like Savina Morlocco and Bonney Dunlop, and their current lineup was a force to be reckoned with last season,” continued Marie, “Today, they’ll be playing against one of this season’s new teams, a group calling themselves ‘The Outcasts.’ They’re mostly comprised of rookies that we’ve only seen on the field a couple of times before today.”

           “With the exception of one André Dorado, the team’s Roller, that is!” Callie chimed in, “This match is certainly going to be personal for him – André actually used to be a member of Spice Splat until a little over a year ago. But maybe his familiarity with the opposing team will give the Outcasts an edge over their competition!” “It could make for a great upset, but they’re rather inexperienced, though,” replied Marie, “If just one of them is a weak link, it’ll be all over for them against a group as tight as Spice Splat. If they want to stand a chance today, the Outcasts are going to have to bring their A-game, both on an individual basis and working together.”

           Each of the Outcasts tightened their grip on their weapons. Marjani began murmuring to herself behind her mask. “He’d better play my jam…” she muttered, “I know he’s DJin’ today…” As Felicity opened her mouth to ask what Marjani was talking to herself about, the speakers began to blare the countdown to the start of the match: “Three!” “Here we go, guys,” said Amber. “Two!” the voice on the park’s loudspeakers continued counting down. André placed his left hand on the handle of his Roller and hunched forward slightly. “One!” Felicity swallowed nervously in anticipation.

           “Go!”

           As Amber took her first few steps forward off of the spawn point, she found herself shoved from the left and stumbled. Looking angrily as she regained her footing, she spotted Marjani, having pushed her way past the captain, running ahead without even slowing to charge up her Splatling. “Marjani!” she shouted, “Watch it! And where are you going?! I told you that your job–” “–My job is to win!” argued Marjani, not even looking back, “Stay outta my way!”

           “Dammit!” Amber hissed as she began covering the turf around the team’s base, aided by Felicity behind her and André to her right, “André, go on ahead and help, she’s gonna get herself splatted in no time on her own!” André simply nodded and slammed his Roller down on the ground in front of him, gripping the handle in his right hand and dashing forward toward the other team’s side of the battlefield. “Isn’t that kind of using him as bait?” asked Felicity quietly. Amber turned around to face Felicity, somewhat taken aback that that she was still present, just as close behind her as she’d been at the spawn point.

           “I-I… no!” protested Amber, “We need him up there in their faces, that’s how Rollers fight!” “But he’s putting himself right in the line of fire,” replied Felicity, “Just to divide their attention from Marjie?” “I… I, uh…” Amber shook her head as she tried to remain focused, “What are you still doing back here, anyway?” “Well, uh… I-I…” Felicity stuttered, “I-I can splat them from further away, so I thought I should hang back where it’s safer and… yeah…?” “That’s exactly why we need you on the front lines, Felicity!” replied Amber harshly, “We’ve got to keep them pushed back as far as we can! The middle ground needs to be our last line of defense, not our goal!”

           “Wh-where do you need me?” asked Felicity, trailing behind Amber as the two pushed forward. “Get to the central tower,” said Amber, pointing to an elevated area at the center of the park, “It’s a perfect sniper’s perch. I’ll be up there to cover you as soon as I get a little more of this turf around here!” Felicity nodded and transformed into her squid form, ducking into the heavily-inked turf and making her way toward the center of the map.

           At that moment, Amber heard the sound of a squid getting splatted from across the field. She looked back to the Outcasts’ spawn point to see Marjani respawning from the ink pool. “Slimy little motherfuckin’ Inkbrush!” she screamed, “Didn’t even let me ink any of their fuckin’ turf before splattin’ me!” Amber moved back toward the spawn point, standing in Marjani’s way as her teammate tried to leave the area again. “See, this is what happens when you don’t follow orders!” she yelled, “You got splatted right off the bat because you ran straight to their side, four against one, without staying back here to ink turf like I told you to!”

           “Whatever, I don’t have time for this, I’ve gotta match to win!” said Marjani, pushing Amber out of her way again. “No, not ‘whatever’!” replied Amber, grabbing Marjani by the arm. “Fuck off already!” shouted Marjani as she transformed into her squid form to free her arm, dropping down into the ink and swimming to try and escape the captain. “Get back here!” said Amber, transforming and swimming after her teammate.

             Felicity stopped at the side of the central tower, aiming her Classic Squiffer toward the top and spraying a trail of ink all the way up the side in one shot. She transformed back into her squid form and began swimming through the ink, making her way through the path she’d just inked up the wall toward the top. As she jumped out of her ink at the top, transforming back, she gasped as she found herself staring down the barrel of another Charger – Moruga’s Kelp Splatterscope.

           “Boo,” said Moruga dryly as Felicity squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of what was about to happen. Moruga released the trigger, splatting Felicity in a spray of his team’s red ink color before turning his attention to their side of the field. “Dat was easier than I thought it would be,” he mused quietly as he placed a Sprinkler behind himself, sending globs of red ink flying in every direction, “Gotta be faster if yuh wanna claim a sniper’s perch before me.” He looked down the scope of his charger as he prepared the next shot, this time to simply cover the Outcasts’ turf. “Hm…” he muttered, “I’m not seein’ André anywhere… Ninja Squid? Or… has he already…?”

             As André reached the other team’s side, inking turf in his path as he went, he glanced around, noticing that none of the members of Spice Splat were there, nor was Marjani – based on their previous matches, she had probably gotten herself splatted already, over on the opposite side from where he’d come through. “Moruga’s gotta be on the tower…” he muttered to himself, quickly checking to confirm his suspicion, “At least two of the others must be making a push. Might have a chance to catch him off–”

           All of a sudden, André noticed a small, translucent ring forming around him. “Echolocator?!” he asked in surprise before realizing its source, “…Right, Jolokia runs a Nouveau now.” He glanced back at Moruga, who was firing shots in the direction of the Outcasts’ side and ignoring André behind him. “Can’t get close to him like this,” he muttered, “…Jolokia must be covering their side. Ninja Squid’s not gonna help until her special runs out. But…” He scanned Spice Splat’s red ink carefully, moving forward with his Roller as he did.

           As he glanced around the field, he spotted a small ripple in the ink heading his way. He lifted his Roller from the ground and held it in both hands, readying himself. As the ripples closed in on him, he narrowed his eyes, steadying his grip on his Roller. A moment later, a red-colored squid leapt out of the ink, transforming back in midair – Jolokia, her Tri-Slosher at the ready.

           “Andr–!” she began to say in surprise, cut off by the giant squid in front of her swinging his Roller through the air, splatting her before she hit the ground. What little ink had splashed out of her Slosher landed on André’s face and left arm. “Sorry, Jolokia,” murmured André, trying to wipe her ink out of his left eye, “Gotta remember we’re not on the same team anymore… That was risky, but at least it work–grahh!”

           Before André could finish his sentence, he was splatted by a single shot of red ink from behind – his and Jolokia’s skirmish had attracted Moruga’s attention, and the sniper had finished what Jolokia had started. “I warned yuh, Jolokia…” he sighed, “Gotta keep yuh head on straight.” He turned his attention back to the other side of the field.

             “Dammit, will you just listen to me?!” shouted Amber as Marjani sprayed ink ahead of her, continuing to ignore her captain. “I said I don’t need you!” screeched Marjani, “Just go ink somewhere else so we can win this!” “That’s not how this works!” snapped Amber, covering turf as she yelled at Marjani, “When I tell you what you need to focus on, you can’t just blow that off because you want to run off and get yourself splatted!” “I don’t fuckin’ care!” Marjani barked, “I’m here to win, not hang back and cover our own side like some pussy!”

           “You are a Splatling user!” retorted Amber, “Your specialty should be turf coverage, not splatting!” “I play how I want!” yelled Marjani, “Just help me win this so the payout’s better!” “We’d have an easier time working together and winning if you would just trust my strategy!” insisted the exasperated Amber, “What’s so wrong with following orders?!” “I! Don’t! Take! Orders!” screamed Marjani, “What part of that don’t you get?!”

           “Sounds pretty clear to me,” a calm third voice interjected, suddenly interrupting Amber’s rebuttal. The two looked ahead, seeing Caroline, Mini Splatling in hand and a smirk on her face. “You…!” started Marjani, running forward and charging up her Heavy Splatling. “Marjani, no! The Mini charges way faster than–” Amber tried to warn her teammate as Caroline fired up her Mini Splatling before unleashing a concentrated barrage straight at Marjani, splatting her in a moment before her Splatling was even ready to fire.

           “Well, that was easy,” mused Caroline, “Now, where were we?” Amber raised her weapon and took aim at Caroline, who waited for a moment, still smiling. “…Well?” Caroline asked after glancing away for a moment in confusion, “I’m waiting. You gonna splat me or what? Seriously, girl, you look like you’re trying to take me hostage or something.”

           Amber gritted her teeth and pulled the trigger, only for Caroline to instantly transform into her squid form and swim just out of Amber’s range. As she rose back out of her ink, she quickly charged up her Splatling again and fired, covering the opposing captain and the area around her in her ink without splatting her. Caroline transformed again and swam up to Amber, transforming back right in front of her opponent.

           “This is no fun,” she groaned, “Come on, quit gawking and pull yourself together!” Amber tried to wipe the red ink from her eyes, scowling at Caroline in disgust. “You’re toying with me!” she snapped. Caroline sighed, her smile finally dropping. “You’d have been splatted before you even knew I was here if I didn’t. I just can’t take this seriously,” she continued, sounding disappointed, “You guys aren’t coordinated at all. It’s… boring. I requested a match with you guys because I was hoping that André had put together a team that could give us a run for our money, but I just… like…”

           She sighed again and turned away from Amber, shaking her head. “I mean, what kind of captain can’t get her teammates to listen to her orders?” she asked, “You’re missing something crucial here about what it means to be a part of a team.” Amber growled at Caroline and raised her weapon again in the hopes of splatting the captain while her back was turned.

           Caroline suddenly whipped around, firing one last ink bullet from her Splatling by charging it for just a fraction of a second, finishing off her ink-covered opponent and sending Amber back to the Outcasts’ spawn point. She shook her head as she pressed onward into the Outcasts’ side of the field, inking turf casually as she went.

             Felicity rushed back into the action, trying to shake off the shock of Moruga’s surprise attack and nearly forgetting to transform into her squid form so that she could swim through the team’s ink. She decided that perhaps a direct approach to Moruga’s position wouldn’t do the team much good, and instead opted to try and get to the other side of the field to splat him from behind. She swam right from the spawn point, toward the south side of the field.

           As she reached the edge of where the Outcasts’ green ink met Spice Splat’s bright red, she transformed back to charge up her Splat Charger and clear a path for herself. She tried to keep a close eye out for a good route to take to get behind Moruga as she covered up the opposing team’s ink. “Yo, squirt!” a voice suddenly shouted, startling her.

           Off to her left was Butch, dashing toward her with his Inkbrush on the ground at an unprecedented speed, inking a thin trail behind himself as he moved. His trademark grin was as wide as ever as he neared her. “Nuh-uh, dat’s my turf!” he growled, “You ain’t inkin’ it today!” Felicity transformed back into her squid form and re-entered her ink, beating a hasty retreat. It wasn’t long, however, before Butch cut her off, inking directly across her path.

           In an attempt to escape, Felicity leapt into the air, hoping to jump over his thin ink trail and evade him, only to spot him turning on a dime as he lifted his Inkbrush, swinging it rapidly and flinging more of his team’s ink color everywhere. Felicity landed in it, her feet sinking into the red goop, putting her at her opponent’s mercy. “Sorry, squirt!” Butch yelled as he swung his Inkbrush into Felicity herself twice, quickly splatting her, “I don’t pull punches!” With Felicity out of the picture, Butch continued to press forward, re-inking the turf that she had just been covering.

             As Moruga took aim at the Outcasts’ side of the field, splatting Marjani and clearing the way for Caroline and Butch to move in from the sides, he noticed the distinct sound of a Super Jump behind him. Moments later, Jolokia landed at his side. “Yuh got splatted,” he spoke plainly, his gaze fixed down his scope, “What happened?” “Sorry!” Jolokia apologized embarrassedly, “A-André used himself as bait. He used my Echolocator to lure me in and got the jump on me.”

           “Is dat all?” asked Moruga skeptically, “Nothin’ else?” Jolokia began to blush slightly before taking a step forward. Moruga grabbed her by the shoulder to stop her, causing her to look back at him. “Yuh tried to go one-on-one wit’ a Roller user at close range,” he continued, “Dat’s not like yuh.” Jolokia looked down in shame.

           “It’s jarrin’, I know,” Moruga added knowingly, “We’re not used to seein’ him on de odduh team.” He let go of Jolokia’s shoulder. “Try to keep yuh head on straight,” he finished, “Now get out dere and back up Caroline and Butch like we planned.” Jolokia nodded and transformed into her squid form, leaping off of the tower safely into the ink below, swimming up through the center of the map to push the line with her teammates.

           With Moruga, Caroline, and Butch holding the central area like a wall, the Outcasts were grouped together in the sloped area of the battlefield, just in front of their spawn point, pinned down as Spice Splat moved in from multiple angles. As Jolokia rejoined the fray, sloshing ink all over in a path leading from the central tower straight in the direction of the Outcasts’ spawn point, she ducked into her ink to avoid Marjani’s frustrated spray of ink bullets, only leaping back out to splat the opposing squid before turning her attention back to covering turf.

           “Bomb Rush!” shouted André, retreating as Caroline activated her special weapon and unleashed a barrage of Burst Bombs on the team. “Felicity, quick, use your Bubbler!” shouted Amber as the opposing captain closed in on her teammate. “Eep!” Felicity yelped just before being splatted a moment later, before she could activate her protective shield. “Dammit!” hissed Amber, before turning her attention to her right to fire on Butch, who was rapidly approaching her with his Inkbrush. He dodged out of the way of most her fire, closing the gap with only a single stray ink bullet hitting his shoulder.

           “Oi! Youse got ink on my jacket!” he shouted as he swung his Inkbrush into her repeatedly, splatting her on the spot, “Who’s gonna pay fuh dat to be dry-cleaned, huh?!” “Butch, relax!” barked Caroline as the two moved forward, closing in on the Outcasts’ spawn point together, “We’ve had this in the bag from the start. The bonus cash will cover it if it doesn’t just come out when the match is over.”

           She turned her attention to André, who was dashing at her and Butch with his Roller hefted up on his shoulder. As she began charging up her Mini Splatling, she noticed his glowing tentacles, causing her confident smirk to vanish. “Everyone back, now!” she shouted, retreating into her own ink. Butch and Caroline did the same as Moruga readied himself on the central tower. In a flash of light, André transformed, his squid form swelling into a massive, invincible Kraken, the anchor logo from his t-shirt now adorning his forehead.

           “Hroooooaaaaar!” André’s terrifyingly gigantic Kraken form roared, the guttural, adrenaline-filled thunder echoing throughout the entire skatepark and beyond as he swam forward on top of the ink, carving a path of green through Spice Splat’s red ink and trying to splat anyone he could. The members of Spice Splat scattered as he neared them, and he selected Butch, to whom he was closest, to pursue. However, Butch placed his Inkbrush on the ground and beat a hasty retreat, escaping André as the time limit on the Roller wielder’s Kraken ran out, forcing him back into his bipedal form.

           Realizing his position, André attempted to dive back into his trail of ink, only to be splatted by a single shot from Moruga’s Splatterscope once more. Moruga lowered his Splatterscope with a sigh, a mix of relief and resignation, and looked back to the Outcasts’ side of the field. While he and Butch had been preoccupied with André, Jolokia and Caroline had kept a firm grip on their side of the field, keeping the Outcasts firmly pinned at their spawn point. Just as he raised his Splatterscope to continue covering his teammates, a loud whistle rang out, signaling the end of the three-minute match.

           “And it’s over, everyone!” announced Callie over the live feed, “I haven’t seen this much of a landslide victory since… since…” “Probably not since Spice Splat’s final match last season,” interjected Marie with a sly smirk, “They really brought the heat today, huh?” “Ugh, are the puns really necessary, Marie?” asked Callie. “Oh, you know I’ve been saving that one all summer,” retorted Marie with a grin, “I couldn’t resist.” “Anyway, I don’t think we even need to ask Judd on this one,” continued Callie, “But let’s take a look at the statistics of the match anyway…”

             The eight squids returned, one by one, to the Inkopolis Tower lobby via the same grates through which they had initially departed. Marjani immediately walked away from the others without a word and picked up her bag, shoving her Splatling into it forcefully, before reaching into her jacket pocket to retrieve her Turf War League ID card from her wallet. She walked over to a machine next to the exit and inserted her card into a slot on the front before pressing a few buttons on a number pad.

           “Fuckin’ useless…” she muttered to herself, removing her card after the match earnings were deposited to her account, “And he didn’t even play my song like I told him to…” As she put her card back into her wallet, she made her way to the automatic doors, which opened before her, and walked out without acknowledging the others at all.

           “Felicity, can you go make sure she doesn’t leave?” asked Amber, “I’ve decided we’re gonna have a meeting and all four of us have to be there.” “She’s not gonna like that…” murmured Felicity. “Want me to send André instead?” asked Amber. “No… if there’s anyone Marjie might not snap at, it would be me,” admitted Felicity, heading for the door, “I’ll be back in just a minute to cash out.” Amber sighed at the team’s sad state of affairs.

           “Hey, Kraken!” Butch called out just a little too loudly from across the lobby, “Ya did pretty good out dere! Almost got me at da end!” André simply looked at Butch and nodded reluctantly. “I knew yer Kraken’s big, but I didn’t think it’d be dat big!” the latter continued, “But I guess I’m just too fast fuh youse!” He chuckled to himself as the quiet André got his own ID card out and began the process of cashing himself out, trying to ignore the Inkbrush user’s comments.

           Felicity returned a moment later. “Marjie’s outside,” she said, “But she’s… not happy. She said not to keep her waiting.” Amber pulled her ID card out of her hoodie as André finished receiving his deposit and inserted it into the same machine as he plodded over to his bag. He folded his Roller up and placed it inside before lifting the whole thing back up onto his shoulder.

           By then, Felicity had done the same with her Squiffer and removed her ID card from her bag, taking Amber’s place at the machine as Amber picked up her bag, placing her weapon inside and zipping it up. “Ready?” she asked as Felicity removed her card from the machine and placed it back in her bag. “Yeah…” said Felicity glumly. Amber and Felicity walked out of the automatic doors, with André following behind them.

           “André,” Caroline spoke up as Amber and Felicity walked out of earshot, causing her former teammate to stop silently in front of the doors, without turning to look at her. “I just wanted to say…” Caroline’s voice trailed off momentarily, as if she was looking for the right words, “…Good luck out there.” André hung his head slightly and paused, almost as if he was going to turn around and acknowledge her, but decided against it and continued out the door.

 SPLATOON: THE OUTCASTS

EPISODE END

             “Dose rookies didn’t stand a chance,” bragged Butch, putting his hands behind his head as the members of Spice Splat sat outside of Inkopolis Tower’s lobby together, “Couldn’t beat da Inkbrush Prodigy, I guess.” “Don’t give yourself too much credit, Butch,” argued Caroline, “After all, Moruga led the team on splats, as usual.”

           “An’ Caroline covered de most Turf,” added Moruga, standing next to her, “Yuh’ve proved yuh skills and made yuhself indispensable last season, but lettin’ it go to ya head is de last thing we need dis year, especially with André back on de field.” “Da Kraken’s no match fuh us!” retorted Butch, “Not wit’ dose amateurs backin’ him up!” His gaze drifted over to Jolokia, who seemed to be lost in thought. “…One of us did get splatted by him, though,” he continued, “And it was da only splat on our team fuh da entire match. Woulda been a perfect round if not fuh dat.”

           Jolokia didn’t respond to this comment, remaining quiet. “Yo, JP,” Butch spoke up loudly, startling her. “Wha-what?!” she asked, flustered. “Ya let da Kraken splat ya durin’ da match,” continued Butch, “Youse just havin’ an off day, or… was it somethin’ else on ya mind?” “N-no, I’m fine,” protested Jolokia, “I-I just… didn’t expect André t-to–” “Oh, fuggedaboutit, JP,” said Butch with a grin, “We all saw dem goo-goo eyes youse was givin’ him in da lobby.”

           Jolokia turned a bright red. “Th-that’s not–!” she stammered. “Hey, I ain’t judgin’,” said Butch, shrugging, “I mean, da Kraken’s a pretty big guy…” His grin turned sly as he looked back at Jolokia. “Stands ta reason dat all of him would be big, am I right?” he asked coyly. “That’s enough, Butch,” interjected Caroline, though smirking at his joke, “No need to be jealous, now.” “Ehh…” Butch, biting his tongue at Caroline’s quip, “…Fuggedaboutit.”

           Caroline turned back to Moruga. “So, what do you think of André’s new team?” she asked him. “Dey’re a ragtag group of misfits who can’t work togeddah,” Moruga replied simply, “André’s de only one wit’ any real experience between dem. Dey’re all rookies at what dey do, an’ dey all seem to have different ideas of what de odduhs should be doin’ in a Turf War. Frankly…”

           He turned to look Caroline in the eye. “Dey’re a mess, an’ I don’t see dem lastin’ long.” “Aw, come on, you’re too pessimistic,” contended Caroline. “I’m realistic,” argued Moruga, “Best not to get our hopes up for a dysfunctional team like dat.” “I think they’ve got potential,” replied Caroline, crossing her arms and smiling once more, “They just need to figure out how to bring it to the surface.”

           “Yuh can tell after jus’ one match? An’ yuh think someone like dat Amber girl can do it?” asked Moruga, “She’s not even an Inkopolis native. She barely knows her way ‘round de battlefields. What kind o’ captain is dat?” “There’s something about her,” replied Caroline, “But she needs a push in the right direction if she’s going to tap into what she’s got hiding away inside her.” “Care to make a bet out of it?” asked Moruga. “Nah,” replied Caroline, looking off into the distance pensively, “We’ll see if my gut feeling is right in time.”

           Amber’s pulse raced as she dashed through the obstacle course laid out in front of her. “Come on, just… remember your training…!” she murmured to herself as she raised her weapon and sprayed bright yellow ink on the ground in front of her. In the blink of an eye, she transformed into her smaller cephalopod form, dipping into her ink as she did so, and began swimming through it, trying to make her way through the course in the time that she had been allotted.

           Her time was running out, both in the gauntlet currently demanding her full attention and in the Turf War off-season. If she didn’t make it onto this team, the Devil Rays, she probably wouldn’t have enough time to find another team that needed a fourth member before registrations closed. While the rules were flexible enough that she could continue trying out for teams during the season, the chances of finding a team that would be looking to hire once the season had begun were slim to none – this was, in all likelihood, her last shot.

           As she swam, an inflatable dummy shaped vaguely like a squid suddenly sprang up nearby – the last target in the obstacle course she had been tasked with splatting within the time limit. Amber sprang out of the ink, her Tinted Shades gleaming in the sun and her weapon already primed, took aim, and fired precisely three shots of ink. In a fraction of a second, the training dummy exploded from the impact of her ink bullets. Landing on her feet, she wasted no time painting an inky path for herself to return to the start of the course as quickly as possible.

           As Amber raced back to the three waiting members of the Devil Rays, she tensed up her tentacles and pushed herself through her ink as quickly as she could, not wanting to waste a single second. Finally, she leapt out of her ink at top speed and transformed back into her bipedal form once more in midair, sticking a perfect three-point landing directly on one of the two spawn points in the camp, the same spot where she had started no more than three minutes earlier.

           Breathing heavily, she looked up to the three members of the Devil Rays who were seated up on one of the nearby walls surrounding the spawn point; one of them, the fair-skinned captain Roche, was holding a stopwatch in his hand that he had just stopped. Amber grinned enthusiastically at the three Inklings as she straightened up from her hunched position, her Camo Zip Hoodie dripping with the last of her yellow ink. “What’s my time?” she asked excitedly, “I didn’t miss any of them, right?”

           “No, you didn’t miss any,” replied Roche, jumping down from the wall with the other two following suit, “But, uh…” He looked to his dark-skinned second-in-command, a blue-tentacled girl who looked rather unimpressed. She was holding a small device in her hands and surveying an aerial map of the obstacle course on its screen. “Your turf coverage came up at approximately twenty-four percent,” she stated calmly before pushing her round glasses up higher on her nose.

           Amber was silent as her expression fell, her smile turning into an uncertain half-grin. “Your aim is pretty good,” Thurston, an Inkling younger than Roche, whose green tentacles glistened in the bright sunlight, chimed in, “Better than mine, anyway.” “Yeah, Thurston’s right, your aim is impressive. You’ve got a knack for splatting,” continued Roche, crossing his arms, “But… we’re looking for someone whose first instinct is to ink turf. We usually see coverage at least over fifty percent in tryouts. Tara is already our offensive splatter, you know?”

           Amber tried not to cringe as she realized she’d only focused on splatting the dummies as quickly as possible, not worrying about inking the ground around her at all and having used it merely as a way of getting between her targets. “I-I… yeah…” she muttered, feeling defeated, “B-but I can do that! Just give me another shot at the course, I can go for turf coverage this time!” “No can do,” interjected Roche, shaking his head. “There isn’t enough time,” added Tara, her expression unchanging, “We’ve got the next tryout in just a few minutes.”

           “And it’s not just that,” Roche continued, trying not to sound discouraging, “But, uh… Tara looked over your Turf War records while you were on the course, and… You’ve got nothing.” He sighed and put his hands on his hips before continuing, “You’ve never played a Turf War match in your life. It looks like you’ve gotten a lot of practice in, but that only goes so far. We need someone with real experience on the battlefield.”

           “But I…!” Amber started before biting her tongue, trying to stay on the Devil Rays’ good sides, “I-I… alright.” She turned to leave. “G-good luck with the next tryout,” she said, “I hope you guys find a fourth team member soon.” “Good luck to you, too,” replied Roche, “And sorry it won’t work out with us. I’m sure there’s a team out there that needs someone with the kind of potential you’ve got.” “Thanks, Roche,” said Amber, raising her hand to wave at the team without looking back, “I-I’ll keep trying.”

           Amber sighed as she started the long walk home, fighting back tears behind the Tinted Shades that completely obscured her eyes. She had begun to lose count of how many failed tryouts she’d had through the entire summer. Every time, she had been rejected, and always in part due to not having any sort of Turf War record of which to speak. It was starting to hurt her more deeply than she wanted to admit.

           But she was so concerned with trying to get onto a team before the off season ended that she hadn’t found any time to just participate in Turf War matches, even with any other random players. It seemed as though she’d moved to Inkopolis too late – there simply wasn’t enough time for her to both build a solid reputation for herself and still make it onto a team; registrations for the next Turf War season ended in just a week. But she didn’t dare go into the season as a freelancer with no record; there was no way she’d be able to pay rent like that.

           Sighing again, Amber made up her mind: She was going to have to take drastic measures.

             As Amber opened the door to her apartment, she sighed again. Was this really going to work? She closed and locked the door behind her before flopping onto her bed, a rickety old piece of junk she’d picked up from a curb she’d long since forgotten. She could barely afford to live in her apartment, let alone furnish it properly. She turned on her side and pulled her phone out of her hoodie’s pocket. At least she was lucky enough that the complex she lived in offered free Wi-fi for tenants.

           She opened up her phone’s browser and began typing in the URL for a website that she’d been typing quite a lot these past few weeks: Krakenslist. Up until now, she’d only been using the site to find postings for team tryouts, but time was short, and the countless teams that would be competing in the upcoming Turf War season were mostly registered – chances are she wouldn’t find any new listings.

           Amber took a deep breath and began creating a new post of her own, whispering what she was typing out loud as she did: “Seeking Turf War battlers to form a full team for upcoming Turf War season. Three players needed. Please apply by sending a copy of your official league application,” she murmured, “Team registrations close on Saturday, so please do not hesitate to apply ASAP.”

           Amber’s thumb trembled as it hovered over the “Submit” button on her screen. Finally, she shook her head and set the phone down next to her on her bed. “It won’t work…” she muttered, disheartened, “There can’t be anyone still looking for a team, not this late…” She turned back on her stomach and hugged her pillow, burying her face in it. “Crap…” she mumbled to herself, her shaking voice muffled by the pillow, “What am I gonna do…?”

           She remained like this for a few minutes, trying to figure out how she was going to manage her rent payments. It wasn’t like there weren’t other ways of making money in the city, but she really wanted to participate in Turf Wars, and she wouldn’t have enough time to play if she found herself a job, even just part-time work. When she’d first come to Inkopolis, the first thing that had caught her attention was how it was the capital of Turf War culture. And if she could just get a chance to live up to the skills she’d honed back home, it could pay well enough that her rent would be chump change. If she was going to keep living here, what would the point be in not competing?

           At this point, she was running out of options: The whole reason she wanted to keep living in Inkopolis was so that she could participate in Turf Wars, but if she went into the next season registered as a freelancer, it would be nigh impossible for her to find consistent work, and chances that anyone would hire her would be slim to none if she was spending all her free time working another job to make ends meet.

           She rolled onto her back again and stared at her ceiling, trying to decide on her next course of action. Finally, she picked up her phone again and tapped her thumb to the screen, pressing the “Submit” button before she could let herself think long enough to decide against it again. As her desperate decision began to sink in, she dropped her phone on her stomach and sighed again.

           “What am I thinking?” she asked herself dejectedly before looking out her window. She’d taken long enough to get home that the sun was already setting. She’d wasted the day on the Devil Rays tryout, and her crazy idea of making her own team had flooded her thoughts, causing her to go straight back to her apartment to do it. She should’ve taken Roche’s words to heart and stopped by Inkopolis Tower to join the last hour or so of Turf War for the day. Still, how many matches could she play and still find a team that was hiring with less than a week left?

           Amber sat up on the edge of her bed, sliding her phone back into her pocket. With little else to do for the rest of the day, she decided to make her way to Inkopolis Plaza, where she could get something to eat. Her apartment didn’t even have a fridge; eating takeout day-to-day had just become part of her lifestyle. Perhaps she could at least stop by the café she frequented, where she could keep an eye out for any desperate teams there looking for new ink at the eleventh hour. She stood up and walked back over to the door, exiting her apartment as quietly as she had entered it.

             Amber sat alone in the café, slowly sipping her iced tea and wallowing in her solitude. The teams that were hanging out in the café were all complete four-man squads; she wouldn’t have any luck finding an open slot with them. No one to hang out and eat with, no one to play Turf War with; she couldn’t get the thoughts out of her head.

           She had only just come to Inkopolis a few months earlier, just a few weeks before the Splatfest that had marked the end of the previous season; she was completely and utterly without friends in this unfamiliar metropolis. She should’ve spent her summer better, but she was preoccupied just with trying to find a place to live and getting onto a team before it was too late. There wasn’t even anyone in the city who had her phone number.

           Which made it all the more surprising when her phone suddenly began to vibrate in her hoodie’s pocket. At first, Amber jumped, started by the unexpected contact breaking her out of her mental vicious cycle of pessimism. She reached into her pocket and took her phone out. She had a new e-mail? “…Seriously?” she asked herself under her breath in disbelief, “It… someone actually…?” She tapped her thumb on the screen, opening the notification.

           She began to read through it. Whoever had sent it apparently didn’t have much to say, and had just attached their application without any sort of message. Out of curiosity, almost wondering if someone was just messing with her after seeing her all-too-obviously desperate ad posting, Amber downloaded the application document and opened it up, beginning to read. Much to her surprise, it all seemed legitimate:

           “…André Dorado, age 19… Played Turf War from ages 14-18, then took the last season off… Uses a Krak-On Splat Roller… General strategies include getting close to enemies with Ninja Squid ability to maximize Roller splats and using Kraken form to support teammates… May be rusty after a year away from the field…” Amber read through quietly. Whoever this “André” was, he really had sent her a bona fide application, though there was a little less detail than she expected. Had he seen the ad and decided to get back into Turf War, or was it the other way around?

           Amber almost leapt out of her seat in excitement. She’d actually managed to get someone’s attention for joining a team, and less than an hour after her initial posting. She wasn’t sure what to do: She almost wanted to jump up and down and scream in delight, but every ounce of self-control she had was trying to hold her back from making an embarrassing scene of herself in the middle of the café. She did her best to keep her elation to herself and began formulating a reply:

           ‘Hello, André. I’ve received your application,’ she typed out, ‘I’d be glad to have you as part of this team. I’ll contact you again once I’ve recruited all the team members we need.’ Short and sweet, like André’s application; perhaps he’d appreciate that. Amber tapped the “Send” button and put her phone back into her pocket before resuming her drink, now a little more high-spirited. If she had gotten an application that quickly, maybe there was hope for her yet. She just needed two more soon; she silently prayed that two more applications would come in soon enough.

             The next morning, Amber roused from her sleep quietly, then groaned, face-down in her pillow, as she realized she was awake and had to face the cruel world once more. She fumbled to find her signature Tinted Shades on the nightstand next to her bed, and put them on before throwing the bed sheets off of herself and swinging her legs off the side of the bed.

           She put her fingers behind her glasses to rub her eyes before pushing her drooping yellow tentacles behind her shoulders. Her hoodie and Punk Cherry boots were sitting on the floor nearby, having been haphazardly left there. These three pieces of gear were essentially the only outfit she had to her name. Laundry days were always a little awkward.

           After standing up, she grabbed her hoodie and slung it on over her arms, zipping it up over her black undershirt. She decided she would shower later, after getting something to eat, like usual. She picked her phone up off the nightstand and turned it on. Her eyes widened as she saw that she’d gotten two more notifications. Was this it? Could it be that she’d gotten the three applicants she needed to form a full team?

           Her enthusiasm was cut short when she opened up her e-mail to see what she’d received – one of the two notifications was just a spam message from some automated scam advertisement that had probably gotten a hold of her e-mail address through her posting on the website. She blocked the address that had sent it, hoping that would be the end of her spam troubles and quietly cursing her snap decision to put her e-mail address out there so openly, and opened the second message.

           Sup, Amber, the message read, Saw your post looking for team members and figured you might be interested in my application. “From… Marj… Marjani… Ku… lev… ya?” stammered Amber, trying to sound out the foreign-looking name, “Marjani… Kulevya? Is that even how you pronounce that? Kind of a weird name…” She brushed it off as she downloaded and opened the application document.

           “Marjani Kulevya, age 17,” she read, speaking to herself as she did, “Heavy Splatling user. Freelancer for the last two years… ‘Pretty much the best Splatling user you’ll find that isn’t part of a team already…?’ I mean, that sounds good, but…?” As Amber read through the application, her phone suddenly vibrated in her hand. “Not more spam, I hope…” she muttered as she opened her e-mail back up, seeing a new message forwarded to her from her posting. Her heart skipped a beat as she realized this could be the last application she needed.

           She opened the message quickly. Hi, Amber!, it read, My name’s Felicity Quinn! I wanted to send this application in yesterday, but I wasn’t sure about whether or not you’d want someone like me on your team. But I thought maybe it wouldn’t hurt to try, so here it is! Get back to me ASAP if my application looks good to you!

           Amber downloaded the third application and opened it up to read it. “Felicity Quinn, age 15,” she said as she sat back down on her bed, “Uh… Hobbies include trying new makeup looks, tentacle styling, and dancing… Okay, didn’t really need those in the application… Let’s see… Gear set is Squid Hairclip, School Uniform, and School Shoes… Come on, what weapon does she…? Classic Squiffer? Okay, so she’s a sniper… Could work well with having a Roller and Splatling on the team…”

           Amber’s smile grew as she realized what this meant: She had three applicants and herself – a full team of four. Maybe her idea hadn’t been so foolhardy after all; after all, she already had enough players to form a new team, and with plenty of the week still left for them to meet, get to know each other, and register to become an official league team.

           “Yes!” she finally cheered as she finished reading Felicity’s application, trying to avoid jumping for joy once more, even within the privacy of her own apartment, “Alright, alright, calm down…” She breathed deeply as she opened up a new group message, putting in the contact information of all three applicants and double-checking each of them to make sure she’d copied them over correctly.

           Good news! We’ve already got enough applicants to form a full team. Let’s all try to meet up somewhere today. My suggestion is Café Cardamari, near Inkopolis Plaza. Does 11AM work for everyone? We can all have lunch and get to know each other there. If that’s too short notice, that’s alright, we can get together tomorrow or something, but we’re a little short on time, so I’d like to get the paperwork done and make it official as soon as possible, since the team registrations close soon.

           Amber’s fingers flew across the digital keyboard as she tried to get the message finished as quickly as she could, hoping to send it out with as much time to spare so that she wouldn’t blindside any of the others. After glancing over the message to make sure she hadn’t misspelled anything, she hit the “Send” button and stuffed her phone into the pocket on the front of her hoodie.

           She only had a few hours if the four were indeed going to meet each other at the time she had suggested, so she had to get cleaned up, go somewhere to get herself breakfast, get to the local library where she could print out the necessary paperwork for the team registration, and get over to the café. It was happening; it was really happening. A huge grin on her face, Amber quickly unzipped her hoodie once more and tossed it back onto the floor from where she’d picked it up, practically running to her bathroom so she could account for her changed plans and shower before she left.

             A few hours later, Amber was sitting nervously at the café, fingering through each sheet of the paperwork for the umpteenth time, making absolutely sure she had printed all the necessary forms for the team to get officially registered. She checked her phone again. It was 10:53. Luckily, all three of the others had responded to her earlier message, saying they’d be able to meet her for lunch. She had already asked the waitress to wait until all four were there to take orders, so that the new teammates could get to know each other while they ate.

           Amber was vaguely familiar with the pink-tentacled waitress, though not by name: While she worked for her parents at the family-owned café, she was also a relatively well-known Turf War battler, somehow finding the time to balance the two. It probably helped that she had a younger sister who could help cover shifts for her. Amber silently wished she had a sibling she could rely on like that, but, unfortunately, she was alone here in Inkopolis, and whatever family she had was far away.

           Trying to relieve her unease, Amber checked her phone once more. 10:55. Surely, they wouldn’t all arrive exactly at 11:00, right? One of them had to show up even a few minutes early. She shuffled through the papers again, and tapped the edge of the stack on the table to realign them once she was done. She anxiously watched the entrance before something outside the café’s windows caught her eye:

           An Inkling, taller than any she had ever seen before, was walking down the sidewalk past the café’s windows, in the direction of the door, his face obscured by his extreme height that stretched past even the top of the windows. As he reached the front door to the café and pulled it open with a lengthy, muscular arm, he hunched ever-so-slightly beneath the top of the door so that he could fit through it.

           Amber got her first proper look at the eye-catching young man as he straightened back up to his full height: His golden-colored eyes were relaxed and his face was largely expressionless, though slightly inquisitive. He was wearing a plain White Anchor Tee that somehow fit someone his size as well as similarly giant-scale Tan Work Boots, though he had no visible headgear to speak of – his light blue tentacles weren’t even tied on the top of his head, draping down behind his ears with the tips just reaching the height of his shoulders.

           “Welcome!” said the waitress from nearby, turning around as she heard the bell on the door ringing, “Oh, André! Good to see you! It’s been a while!” The boy quietly grunted and nodded in response with a barely-visible, but nonetheless warm smile. ‘Wait, THAT’S André?! The same André?!’ Amber quietly panicked to herself as she studied the mammoth squid, ‘When he said he was 19, I thought he was talking about his age, not his height! What the hell does he eat?!’ André’s eyes began darting around the café, studying those who were eating there.

           Amber could almost feel the sweat beading on her head, and she wasn’t sure if it was from her new teammate’s terrifying size or the butterflyfish in her stomach over wanting to make a good first impression – probably a combination of both. “Are you looking for something, André?” asked the waitress, walking over to him. André nodded. “Looking for someone called ‘Amber,’” he responded, his deep voice being exactly what Amber imagined an Inkling his size would sound like, “Said to meet her here.” “Ooh, are you here for a date?” teased the waitress playfully.

           André shook his head. “Captain of a team I’m joining,” he said, “Haven’t met before. Don’t know what she looks like.” “Oh, good for you!” replied the waitress, “Especially after…” Her voice trailed off as André made eye contact with her. For the briefest of moments, Amber thought she saw a twinge of anger in his furrowed brow – or was it sadness?

           “Erm… yes…” the waitress bit her tongue, “I’m sorry. What I mean is, it’s good to see you getting back into Turf War after your year off.” André nodded again. “Good to be back on a team,” he rumbled, “Wouldn’t happen to have seen the captain, though, would you?” The waitress looked over to Amber, who almost jumped as she realized she was about to be pulled into the conversation.

           “That might be her over there, with the Tinted Shades and Camo Zip Hoodie,” said the waitress, gesturing in Amber’s direction, “She mentioned she was waiting for three new teammates to show up. I’d bet she’s your ‘Amber.’” André looked over to Amber and held up his left hand to wave awkwardly at Amber before making his way over to her. “Amber?” he asked quietly. Amber set the papers down on the table, her hands shaking, and stood up.

           “Hi,” she squeaked meekly, her voice catching in her throat. She cleared her throat and reached her right hand out stiffly and cordially, still trying to shake off how intimidating his stature was. André held his hand up for a moment, pausing and pulling back slightly, before taking Amber’s hand in his own, practically engulfing it entirely in his giant fingers. His grip was far less tight than she expected, and he was practically cradling her hand like an adult might hold an infant’s. “Nice to meet you,” he said, smiling ever-so-slightly again as he shook her hand gently.

           Starting to feel more comfortable around her new teammate, Amber sat back down, with André squeezing into the seat across from her, his knees bumping against the underside of the table the whole time. “So… uh…” Amber started, wracking her brain for a conversation starter. “Am I the first one here?” asked André. “Ah-uh…” Amber stammered, “Y-yeah, yeah. Sorry.” “It’s fine,” replied André, “I’ll just work on the paperwork while we wait.” Amber quietly handed over one of the forms for André and handed him the pen she’d brought.

           André began to silently fill out the paperwork as Amber watched him, more at ease now. Despite his size and his somewhat blunt manner of speaking, he seemed to be nice enough. “Amber,” André said, looking up from the form to her, “Got a team name?” “Uh, I…” Amber stuttered, “…I haven’t come up with one. I was just glad to find enough people to join that I haven’t given it any thought.” “‘Enough?’” asked André, “How many applied?” “J-just the three that I accepted,” replied Amber.

           “You accepted the first three?” André asked again. “The… uh… only three,” added Amber uncertainly, chuckling awkwardly to ease the tension she could feel building as she it occurred to her how rashly she’d been acting. After a moment, André shrugged. “That’s fine,” he stated, finally putting her at ease, “Hard to find people this late in the off-season. We’ll work it out, come up with a name over lunch.” “Y-yeah, sure,” replied Amber, “You hungry? We can order something while we wait.” “I’ll be fine,” replied André, turning his attention back to the form.

           A few more painfully silent minutes passed by as Amber looked around the room. André finished the paperwork and handed it back to her without a word, then folded his arms and likewise began to wait with her. He stayed quiet, and Amber wasn’t sure whether or not she should try and get to know him before their other new teammates showed up, or if it would be better to wait for all of them to be there.

           As the clock on the wall ticked to 11:12, the two heard the door to the café open and André glanced over his shoulder. Standing in the doorway, panting like she’d just completed a marathon, was a pink-tentacled girl Inkling wearing a full School Uniform gear set, her soft facial features and piercingly blue eyes accentuated by her makeup.

           As if to avoid making a scene, she looked around the café frantically, before her gaze came to stop on Amber and André. The two of them just smiled at her, both trying to help her relax, before André raised one of his oversized hands and subtly motioned for her to come join them. She wordlessly pointed at them in confusion, and perhaps shock from seeing André’s size, not unlike Amber’s initial reaction. Amber just nodded and repeated André’s gesture.

           The girl walked over to the two briskly, pushing one of her tentacles back behind her ear. “Amber?” she asked hesitantly. “That’s me,” said Amber, feeling far less intimidated by this teammate than André when he’d made his first appearance, “You must be–” “–So, so, SO sorry I’m late!” blurted the girl, “I wanted to make sure my makeup looked right, but I didn’t wanna overdo it, and I just kinda lost track of time, and–”

           “–Relax, you’re not even the last one here,” replied André with a smirk, “Have a seat, you can fill out the paperwork while we wait for the last one to show up.” The girl breathed a sigh of relief. “Oh, thank goodness,” she said, finally smiling, “Sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself! I’m Felicity Quinn!” She held her hand out, and Amber and André each shook it in turn. ‘What’s with this girl?’ Amber thought to herself, ‘I mean, I know she’s the youngest of us, I guess, but she’s so… energetic. And maybe a little ditzy. Well, I did only just met her a minute ago; I should give her the benefit of the doubt. She’s probably just high-strung because she was a little late, that’s all.’

           As Felicity attempted to sit down next to André, her knee bumped against André’s leg, causing Felicity to jump slightly in surprise. “S-sorry!” she just a little too loudly. “Don’t be,” said André, moving his leg slightly to get it out of Felicity’s way, “Not your fault, I’m just big.” “No kidding,” said Amber, finally feeling bold enough to bring it up, “You should’ve seen him walking in, Felicity.”

           “Oh?” asked Felicity as Amber handed her one of the sheets of paperwork to fill out and the pen that André had finished using earlier. “I don’t think I’ve ever met an Inkling as tall as you, André,” continued Amber, before turning back to Felicity, “He practically had to crouch to get in here.” “Just lowered my head a little,” insisted André quietly.

           Felicity looked back over her shoulder at the door in disbelief before turning back to Amber, mouth agape. “Oh my cod!” she said before turning to André, “No way! You must be, like, seven feet tall!” “Seven and four inches,” replied André simply, “And growing.” “And growing?!” asked Amber, her mouth now as wide as Felicity’s, “How?!” “Gigantism,” replied André, “Specifics are boring, but they say I might be over eight and a half feet by the time I stop. Maybe taller.”

           “Whoa…!” Felicity just kept staring at André in awe. “And you’re a Kraken user, too, aren’t you?” asked Amber. André nodded. “It must be huge!” added Felicity before biting her lip suddenly and blushing at how her exclamation could be misinterpreted by others in the café, “Y-your Kraken form, I mean…” André smiled and chuckled a little. Amber quietly breathed a sigh of relief. It looked as though Felicity’s enthusiasm had finally gotten the stoic André to crack and cheer up a little.

           “And you, Felicity,” said Amber, turning her attention to the girl across from her, “You’re a sniper, right?” Felicity brightened up at this, a glint in her eye. “Y-yeah!” she said, “I’ve been practicing for the last year with my Classic Squiffer!” “You must be pretty good then, I bet,” said Amber, resting her head on her hand, supported by her elbow on the table, “What’s your Turf War record?”

           “Uh… uhh… my…” the glimmer in Felicity’s eye suddenly vanished. She hung her head and grabbed one of her tentacles, fidgeting with it nervously. “I-I… uh…” she whispered, “I-I d-don’t have one…” “No record?” asked André, “Nothing?” Felicity shook her head in embarrassment, “I-I’ve just practiced. I didn’t have a chance to actually play Turf War last season, after I finally turned 14.”

           “Th-that’s okay!” Amber insisted hurriedly, hoping to cheer Felicity up, “I’m the same!” Felicity looked up at Amber in confusion. “Y-you…?!” she asked. “Yeah!” said Amber with a smile, hoping to cheer up her new teammate. “But you–” protested Felicity, “You’re the captain!” “Hold on,” interrupted André, resting one of his giant hands on the table. Amber and Felicity both looked toward him, neither of them willing to question giving him the floor. “…Neither of you…” André started, one of his eyebrows raised, “…Have ever played a Turf War match?”

           Amber shrank back into her seat a little bit, realizing just how much these revelations were bad news for the team. André breathed in deeply before sighing. “How old are you, Amber?” he asked curiously. “Eighteen,” confessed Amber, feeling her cheeks and ears turn red and burn with embarrassment. “Eighteen, and you’ve never been in Turf War?” he asked, a twinge of disbelief in his tone, “Don’t see that very often.”

           “I-I’m not from Inkopolis,” said Amber, “I’m from way out in the boonies where we don’t have Turf Wars. Not official ones like here in Inkopolis, anyway, just makeshift ones wherever me and the other kids wouldn’t get chewed out for spraying ink everywhere. I only moved here a few months ago and wanted to get in on the action, for real.” “…Makes sense,” replied André, “What about practice? Have you done any training?” “Oh, yeah, plenty!” said Amber, “I was trained for a few years by a veteran battler before coming here.”

           “Sounds promising, at least,” replied André, “Still… a captain with no experience?” “I-I don’t have to be the captain!” protested Amber, “It sounds like you’ve got a lot more Turf War experience than me, André; if you want, you could–” “–Nah,” interrupted André, “Not my speed. Not a leader-type.” “A-alright, if you say so,” replied Amber, unsure of what else to say. “Not my call,” added André, crossing his arms before continuing in a rather matter-of-fact tone, “You make this team, you lead it.”

           “Done!” said Felicity happily, having finished her paperwork while Amber and André were conversing, “…Well, except for the team name. Did you already…?” “Not yet, no,” replied Amber, “We’ll add it once we come up with something during lunch.” “Okay,” replied Felicity politely, handing the form back to Amber, who muttered a quiet thanks and added it back to the stack with both her and André’s completed sheets, leaving just the last team member’s form and the official team registration form that they would all be signing together.

           The three were uncomfortably silent after that, with the gravity of Amber’s hastiness beginning to set in. Judging by the wording in the application she had received, hopefully their fourth team member would have more experience, like André, and balance things out. And speaking of which, where was that fourth teammate? Amber pulled her phone out of her pocket and checked the time again, before checking the clock mounted on the café’s wall to make sure neither one of them was off. How was it 11:34 already?

           Amber nervously glanced between the two sitting in front of her. André maintained a rather nonchalant expression, though looking increasingly annoyed as time ticked by, while Felicity seemed somewhat blissfully unaware of just how late her last new teammate was. “So, uh… What do you guys do with your free time?” asked Amber, hoping to break the ice. “Oh!” blurted Felicity excitedly, “I love watching old Squidney movies! You know, the animated ones? Do they have those where you’re from?”

           “Uh-uhh, I…” started Amber, “No, not really. Didn’t watch a lot of movies growing up.” “That’s no fun!” Felicity pouted, “Oh, I know! We could have a movie marathon night at my place sometime!” “You live on your own?” asked André. “Er, uh… no, not exactly,” replied Felicity, her enthusiasm suddenly curbed, “I actually live with my mom over in Flounder Heights. We’ve got a pretty nice place, but I want to be able to help her with paying the bills. That’s why I’m trying to get into Turf War. And it seems like so much fun; how can I not?”

           “I’m in kind of a similar situation,” replied Amber, “I’m trying to find a good way to pay rent, and I’ve heard Turf War pays well.” “Well enough,” said André, “If you’re good.” Amber gave André a confident look. “You haven’t seen me in action yet,” she said, her mouth curling into a smug smile. “No, I haven’t,” replied André, reciprocating Amber’s cocky smirk, “Also means I can’t know if you’re as good as you say.” As André spoke, the group heard the bell on the door ring once more, and Amber craned her neck to see who had just entered the café.

           Standing at the entrance to the café as the door closed behind her was a girl who cut a striking image: Her mouth was curled into an annoyed-looking sneer, and her dark complexion was dotted with piercings; two small golden hoops through each of her ears, two silver studs on the outer corner of her right eyebrow, and another pair of pointed, fang-like snake bites adorning her lower lip. Her purple tentacles and green eyes, coupled with the Skull Bandana around her neck, her Black Inky Rider jacket, and Moto Boots, gave her an overall menacing look.

           The girl put one hand in her jacket’s pocket and looked around the café, her bloodshot green eyes moving slowly as if slowed by the dark circles beneath them. The waitress turned her attention to this new arrival. “Welco–” she began, before being interrupted. “–Is there an ‘Amber’ in here?” asked the girl loudly, a somewhat grating hoarseness in her voice.

           “Over here!” said Amber, raising her hand to get her attention to spare the other patrons any further awkwardness. “Yo,” replied the girl, walking over to the table, “I’m Marjani.” “Marjani Kulevya? The Splatling user?” asked Amber. “That’s me,” said Marjani, looking at the other two as if sizing them up, “Even got my name right, nice.” She stuck her pinky in her ear to scratch it before making eye contact with André.

           “Aw, no way!” she said with a smirk, “André the Giant Squid is on my new team?” “‘Kraken,’” André corrected her, “And no one calls me that anymore anyway.” “Anymore?” asked Felicity, “When did they call you–” “–Have a seat, Marjani,” said Amber, moving over to give her final new teammate some room to sit, “Let’s get something to eat and get started on the last of the paperwork.”

           “Ugh, right…” said Marjani, sitting down, “Forgot about that. I hate paperwork. All these stupid rules. I mean, come on, just lemme get out there and splat some bitches, why do I gotta jump through all these fuckin’ hoops?” “O-oh my…” murmured Felicity, “L-language.” “Uh… I…” Marjani looked at Felicity sheepishly, “Sorry?”

           “That’s okay, some people just, uh… swear for emphasis…?” Amber frantically tried to come up with a way to diffuse the tension that Marjani’s arrival and personality had started rekindling. “Nah, not really, I just don’t give a shit,” replied Marjani, turning her attention to the paperwork that Amber had slid over to her. The others were quietly stunned, with Amber not knowing how to approach Marjani after a quip like that. ‘Geez,’ she thought, ‘And I thought the first two were a little out there. Marjani’s… something else.’

           “Oh, hey, you mentioned lunch, right?” asked Marjani, looking up and turning to face Amber, “I’ve got a serious case of the munchies right now.” “Uh, yeah, sure, let’s get some menus,” said Amber, waving at the waitress to flag her down. The gracile young woman nodded and smiled at Amber, before returning from the other side of the café to leave a stack of four menus for the new teammates. “Let me know when you’re ready to order,” she said. “Thanks,” said Amber as the waitress turned to leave.

           “If you don’t mind me asking, Marjani,” started André, “You do know we were all supposed to be here half an hour ago, right?” “Yeah, whatever,” replied Marjani, rolling her eyes, “I was hangin’ with my buddy Spyke.” “Spyke…?” asked Amber. “Yeah, he’s an urchin, runs a business out of an alley off the other side of Inkopolis Plaza,” replied Marjani, trying her best to concentrate on the paperwork. “What kind of business?” asked Felicity, tilting her head slightly in curiosity.

           “Gear dealer, among other things,” replied André, “Charges a lot, but somehow always has what you want. Shady, if you ask me.” “Hey, Spyke’s not shady!” protested Marjani, “You don’t know him! Besides, he does more than just that. Spyke gets me the good stuff.” “‘The good stuff,’” repeated Amber flatly, almost not wanting to ask what Marjani was talking about. “Yeah, man,” replied Marjani, “Seaweed, coracaine, you name it, he’s got it. I can hook you guys up, if you want.”

           “Gotta be kidding…” André mumbled under his breath. “Drugs?!” asked Felicity in complete shock, “You know how bad those are, right?! What they do to your body?!” “Eh, I don’t tell you how to live your life, princess,” replied Marjani nonchalantly, “I’m a big girl, and I can take care of myself. Tie my own shoes and everything.” The group fell into awkward silence once more as Marjani continued working on the form.

           “Marjani…” said Amber, remembering what Marjani had said earlier about her hunger, “Are you… high right now?” “Not really,” replied Marjani bluntly, “Went to see Spyke to take the edge off before I was gonna meet you guys, but then I remembered I was supposed to get over here before we could really start gettin’ baked. He said he’d save some for me if this doesn’t take too long, but if you’re treatin’ us to lunch, you know, fuck it, he’ll have more later.”

           Amber quietly exhaled in relief. “Alright, well, if you’re– Wait, who said I was treat–?” she started as she realized what Marjani had said. “–Yo, Amber,” interrupted Marjani, “What’s the team’s name? I got everythin’ else filled in already.” Amber looked down and got a pensive look on her face. “Don’t have one yet,” replied André, voicing what Amber was thinking, having already asked himself and been there when Felicity did the same. “I can’t even think of one,” said Felicity, “It’s like we don’t have anything in common.”

           “Yeah…” said Amber, “I mean, look at the four of us; we’re a giant, a junkie–” “Hey!” interjected Marjani as she furrowed her brow in resentment. “–And two rookies who’ve never played Turf War before,” finished Amber, ignoring Marjani’s objection, “We’re… we’re…” “Outcasts…” mused André morosely. “The bottom of the barrel, huh…?” added Felicity just as dejectedly. “Speak for yourselves!” protested Marjani.

           Amber put her elbows on the table and rested her forehead on her palms, sighing. ‘What have I gotten myself into with these three…?’ she asked herself mentally, ‘I accepted the first three applicants like an idiot, because I was worried no one else would apply before the deadline, and instead, I’ve recruited three weirdos who are just as desperate to be on a team as me!’

           “…Well, beggars can’t be choosers,” she conceded quietly, lifting her head. “Funny you should say that,” said André, “Thought the same thing when I sent in my application.” “Me, too…” pouted Felicity. “Yeah, whatever,” said Marjani, “I just thought being on a team would pay better. I’ve got teams practically linin’ up to hire me as a freelancer.” “Do you really?” asked André skeptically, “Because I’ve heard stories of teams losing badly after hiring a druggie with a Splatling who shows up high and won’t take orders from the captain.”

           Marjani’s pointed ears drooped as her expression turned to one of embarrassment, then anger. “Are you sayin’ that’s what people say about me?!” she yelled accusatorily while leaning forward and pointing at André, loud enough to turn heads in the small café. “Haven’t seen any of you three in battle yet,” argued André, remaining firm, “Wasn’t even a proper tryout. Your tardiness doesn’t make me confident about your reliability.”

           “Guys!” yelled Amber, stepping in to try and end the squabbling, “Come on, we all came here today because we wanted to be part of a team. Now are we going to make a team, or not? Because I’m pretty sure we wouldn’t be here if we wanted to be freelancers.” The other two each fell silent for a moment, stunned by their prospective captain’s sudden outburst.

           “…Well, I already filled out the damn paperwork,” said Marjani, falling back into her seat, “So we might as well.” “Just need that team name,” André added, reluctantly agreeing. The four were quiet once more before Felicity suddenly chimed in. “What about…” she started, “What André called us before? ‘Outcasts?’” “‘The Outcasts?’” asked Amber as she mulled it over before shrugging, “It’s as good as anything.” “Short and to the point,” added André. “Not hard to remember or pronounce like some teams,” added Marjani.

           Amber handed each of the others their forms back and passed the pen around so they could add the team name to each of them. Finally, after adding it to her own form and recollecting the papers, she pulled out the final team declaration form for the whole team to sign and handed it off to André. After writing his name in simple, blocky-looking letters, André passed it to Felicity, who signed it with a flourish before sliding it over to Marjani.

           After Marjani finished up her chicken-scratch of a signature, she pushed the form and pen back over to Amber. “Alright, then, I guess it’s settled,” Amber affirmed as she wrote her own signature and the newly-christened team’s name onto the last form, “For better or worse, today is the day that the four of us are now officially…”

           “The Outcasts.”

           As Amber neatly stacked the paperwork once more, the team was once again quiet for a moment, the reality of the moment sinking in. André was smirking slightly, as though he wasn’t sure whether or not to give his approval at the turn that the events had taken. Felicity was outright beaming, surely envisioning the fun she would have with these new friends. “Or, well,” Amber continued, “We will be once we run these forms over to the league offices.”

           Marjani simply yawned. “Alright, well, now that that’s done,” she grumbled, “Can we order somethin’ already? I’m starvin’.” “Yeah, good idea,” agreed Amber, “But just so we’re clear, I never said it was my treat.” “But I’m flat broke!” protested Marjani, “Come on, spot me just this one time!” Amber sighed.

           “I can cover it!” exclaimed Felicity enthusiastically, raising her hand to volunteer. “Thanks, cupcake,” said Marjani with a grin. “Felicity,” the other Inkling corrected her. “Eh, I’ll call ya what I feel like callin’ ya,” said Marjani. “Fine,” Felicity acquiesced, “But then I get to call you ‘Marjie.’” “You’d better not!” replied Marjani, her smile disappearing, “That’s like, a grandma’s name or some shit!” “Language,” insisted Felicity, “Or I’m taking back my offer to cover your lunch.”

           “Arrrgh!” Marjani growled as she threw her hands up in defeat. André simply smirked and chuckled quietly at the way the youngest of the four had managed to corner Marjani with her reasoning. Amber simply rested her head on her hand and smiled. ‘What have I gotten myself into?’ she asked herself once more, ‘…Maybe it won’t be that bad after all. Maybe once we get to know each other a little better, we’ll have some more things in common than just being Outcasts.’

SPLATOON: THE OUTCASTS

EPISODE END

           “Hold on to your tentacles…”

           “It’s Inkopolis News Time!”

           On a rooftop overlooking Inkopolis Plaza, a young man was watching the regularly-scheduled news broadcast hosted by the Squid Sisters, Callie and Marie, a pair of Inkling cousins from rural Calamari County whose singing had elevated them to worldwide stardom. His scarlet tentacles gleamed in the sunlight, three of them slicked back from the front of his head and one crossing from the left side of his hairline to the right. His front tentacle was drooping until he pushed it up and out of his eyes, revealing distinct purple Q-shaped markings around them, most certainly unlike those of an Inkling. His irises were a vibrant shade of green, with alien-looking W-shaped pupils.

           “I hope you’re all ready for the Turf War League, because the summer off-season is almost over!” exclaimed Callie, the more energetic black-tentacled squid. “League sign-ups close this Saturday,” added Marie, Callie’s laid-back, silver-tentacled counterpart, “So make sure you’re either on a team or a registered Splattershot-for-hire.” “Or Roller, or Charger, or–!” Callie excitedly began to continue. “–Or whatever it is you use on the battlefield,” interrupted Marie, “Just make sure you’re registered with the league as something, or you can’t compete in official matches!”

           The boy unbuttoned the top button of his outfit, a black suit perfectly fitting his thin frame, as he breathed out deeply. “Cod, I hate this heat,” he complained quietly, “It’s nowhere near as bright back home. Hopefully, I can finish this mission quickly and get out of here.” He knelt down on one knee near the edge of the rooftop, scanning the plaza below while sighing, his sharp white teeth showing as he exhaled deeply. “But it’s not just a mission…” he mused, “…Is it, Mimi?” He narrowed his eyes as he looked down at the plaza once more. “Now, then…”

Name: Amber Nicknames/aliases: None Age: 18 Natural ink/tentacle color: Yellow-orange Eye color: Green Skin tone: Third-palest in-game shade Gear: Tinted Shades, Camo Zip Hoodie, Punk Cherries Weapon: Tentatek Splattershot (Suction Bomb sub, Inkzooka special) Profile: Amber had trouble getting into any existing team during the tryout season. Eager to get in on the next season of Turf War, however, and dreading the idea of resorting to freelancing, she decided she had no choice but to create a new team of her own, and hastily accepted the first – and only – applicants: quiet giant André Dorado, irritable junkie Marjani Kulevya, and unflappable, saccharine Felicity Quinn. However, she soon found out that the three of them were as desperate as her to join a team that would accept them, and had all adopted the same “beggars can’t be choosers” philosophy that she did. With little other choice if they all wanted to join the Turf War League before they ran out of time to register, though, their new team – the Outcasts – was formed, with rookie Amber as its captain, despite having no sort of win/loss record with the Turf War League. Unfortunately, due to their rashness and haste in forming a team, the Outcasts hardly know each other, and aren’t friends by any stretch of the word. This makes it incredibly difficult for them to work together and gain any wins in the League. Still, there’s some merit to be had from that: The publicity they get from being notoriously bad has made them popular underdogs among Turf War fans, the support from whom has boosted their morale. And hey, maybe they’ll even learn something valuable along the way to getting better. Maybe they’ve got more in common with each other than just being outcasts. Name: André Dorado Nicknames/aliases: Used to be known as “André the Kraken” (or, mistakenly, “André the Giant Squid”) Age: 19 Natural ink/tentacle color: Light blue Eye color: Yellow Skin tone: Fourth (middle) in-game shade Gear: Fake Contacts, White Anchor Tee, Tan Work Boots Weapon: Krak-On Splat Roller (Squid Beakon sub, Kraken special) Profile: It was thought that giant squids were all but extinct, until André Dorado was born with a mutation, causing him to grow to a far more massive size than a normal Inkling, both in terms of height and muscle mass. Towering several heads over other Turf War battlers at around seven and a half feet – and he’s projected to grow even taller before age slows the process – André is so huge that even his normal squid transformation is the size of some squids’ Kraken forms. Though he’s the oldest member of the team, he still has a couple of years left before he’s old enough for the adult league. Unlike other Inkling boys, André doesn’t tie his tentacles, letting them drape behind his ears and adding to his image as a savage behemoth. Since there are no official rules on a size limit for Kraken users, André swings around his Krak-On Splat Roller with one hand like it weighs nothing and transforming into a terrifyingly gigantic Kraken whenever he can, serving as an intimidation tactic as much as an actual advantage. The anchor logo seen on his t-shirt appears on the “forehead” of his Kraken form. Though he’s a big and brutish offensive player, focusing on splatting opponents to keep them out of his team’s way, André isn’t dull – a mistaken assumption that many who've never had to go up against him make – and can be surprisingly clever about how he plays, hiding in ink and biding his time with his iconic shirt's Ninja Squid perk to catch his opponents off guard rather than just rolling in guns blazing. He’s got more experience and skill than the rest of the Outcasts combined and is most certainly their best player, though he’s still shaking off the rust after spending a year away from the sport. Outside of Turf Wars, though, one would almost never guess that André is so barbaric on the battlefield. Though he can be quiet unless addressed, André is perceptive and not nearly as dumb as some people would think at first glance, and is jarringly eloquent when he does talk, though he has a propensity for using as few words as possible if he's talking to someone he'd rather not. He’s also quite a gentle giant, though he sometimes doesn’t know his own strength and can be a bull shark in a china shop. And as good as he is with children, his size and appearance can frighten them if they don’t know how nice he really is. He tries to save his angry face for Turf Wars, where adrenaline and frustration can be channeled at the opposing team for sport, though he’s also a stickler for punctuality and Marjani can really get on his nerves by blowing off practice sessions, among other things.