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Marie stands in Inkopolis Square, her umbrella hiding her face, scanning the Inklings around her. That one, proudly displaying his ranked card—no, he's got a group of friends laughing with him, the NSS would be public in a heartbeat. Maybe that one, studying Crusty Sean's menu—and then taking her shake and sitting with her boyfriend. With Marie's identity obvious on sight, she needs someone discreet, someone who can not only handle the Octarians but keep quiet about it.
A group of inklings emerge from the battle tower, laughing and chatting. Marie dismisses the seven of them—seven?
On the ground behind them a squid wiggles forward. Her eyes are glued to the ground, her beak gritted in disappointment. She swims under a chair and turns into an Inkling again, then bangs her head on the table a few times before resting it there, a single long tentacle tangled around her nearest ear.
No one comes over to greet the poor squid. Marie peers over the edge of the umbrella to inspect her. She must be dressed for abilities, not fashion: Marie's been out of the turf scene long enough that she can't name the clothes, but that zig-zagged striped beanie does not go with the polka-dot bike shirt, even if they are the same light sky blue as her ink, and when combined with those squid-patterned black-and-white slip-ons and the skirt... Marie shakes her head.
Still, even if the squid dresses in the dark, she must be halfway decent to be able to afford that sort of clothing. And she doesn't seem to have anyone she'll want to call immediately. Besides, Marie's desperate.
So she waits until the squid raises her head and then puts up her umbrella and twirls it a few times, catching the squid's attention. The girl stands up with a frown and walks towards her. Marie ducks into the sewer and hopes the girl will follow.
****
"Of course it's more accurate than the junior. It's a hero shot. It can actually aim. "
"While swimming slowly will help keep enemies from noticing you, they're not deaf. Stop giggling!"
"Throwing a splat bomb behind someone is a great way of cutting off retreat, but since those octotroopers are stationary, it's unnecessary."
"It doesn't matter how slowly you swim, if you're not swimming in ink they'll still notice you. YOUR ink!"
"Yes, I'm impressed you managed to get three splatbombs out at once without a special, but you do not need to juggle them. How are you even doing that?"
"Wall-sliding is a game for baby squids, and yes, sometimes it's fun to behave like a child, but this is not the time. "
"If an Octoling hasn't noticed you, either splat them before they do or sneak off and get the zapfish without a fight, don't follow them making faces until they notice."
"That... was actually impressive, holy squit. You're ready for the boss kettle."
***
“Great work today,” Marie says, as the agent emerges from the kettle with a hop, a squirming zapfish held in both arms. “I'll see you here again tomorrow?”
The girl ducks her head. Marie's not really expecting an answer, Four hasn't said a word since being recruited, but as they take the zapfish back to the cabin (Marie'll return it later, when everyone's asleep) she swears she hears the girl mumble something.
Marie spins on her heel and keeps walking backwards. “Care to repeat that?”
Four blushes and looks at the ground. “Um—if I don't visit my relatives once a week, they'll send out a search party.” Her voice is soft enough that Marie strains to hear.
Callie. Marie's hearts ache. “The day after, then?” She can use tomorrow to go through databases again, keep searching for Callie topside, and prerecord another of her radio shows. She recorded four more today, watching Agent Four go through the kettles. Marie waits until Four nods, then Marie turns to face front, satisfied. “Eight o'clock sharp. I'll make toast." Four giggles. "So, why did you come to Inkopolis?”
“I—it's kinda silly, but... I wanna be a profreshional ranker.” Marie half turns, and the girl continues in a breathless rush. “I know it's hard, and a million squids try and fail every year, and that I'm not very fast, or smart, or talented, but I'm gonna work really really hard and do it anyway.”
Marie holds the door to Cuttlefish Cabin open for Four. “That's not silly at all. What are your ranks right now? Favorite weapon?"
Four sets the zapfish down in a tank inside. "Except for my junior, I can only afford the splattershot." She rubs the back of her neck. "Never gotten to try anything but a shooter."
"Spent too much money on clothes?" Marie asks.
Agent Four avoids her eyes and makes for the door. "Also, my ranks are… not the greatest. I'm at C+ in splat zones, B- in Clam Blitz, A- in Rainmaker, and D in Tower Control."
"The lowest rank is C-," Marie interrupts.
"Not when you're as bad as I am." Four waves and dives down the drain.
Marie shakes her head. She'll have a word with Sheldon; no reason for an agent not to use all the weapons.
***
"I don't know how you're using that roller like a skateboard, but stop it. You can't flick that way."
"If you can poke an octarian with your charger before shooting, you are way too close. It's a distance weapon, Four."
"While using curling bombs to make a tic-tac-toe board is unique, and throwing them in such a way that they bounce against walls for X's and explode in spaces for O's is downright impressive, I don't think Octolings know how to play. Or want to."
"If dodge-rolling makes you dizzy, don't do it as often as you possibly can. Not only does it throw off your perfect-aim benefits, but you ate a lot of toast this morning."
"I don't care what humans did with their weapons, a roller is not a sword of any sort."
“Bounce pads don't require sound effects. Please only make them when there are no Octarians around.”
"I know what it looks like. By making training grounds like areas on the surface, they can practice for attacking Inkopolis. Be on your guard."
“As much as you like tentamissiles, that laugh was disturbing.”
"Aiming a charger isn't that hard. I'll give you a lesson tonight. We'll practice on the dummies."
"I warned you about dodge-rolling. When you get back you can sit until your stomach settles, then I'll get you more toast. Plain, this time."
"Okay, fine, if the Octoboss has a unicycle you can use the roller as a skateboard. NO TRICKS!"
***
“That was pretty slick, squiddo.” Marie gives Four's long tentacle an affectionate tug.
Four ducks her head, a tiny smile on her face, the zapfish squirming in her arms. “Thanks,” she says, and yawns, her face scrunching up. She ducks her head again. “I know I messed up a--”
“You're new with the roller, you'll learn,” Marie says. “Take the rest of the day off, rest up. You're visiting your family tomorrow, right?”
Four trails behind Marie as they take the zapfish to the cabin. “Yeah, I'll see my relatives. But I'm not gonna rest. I've gotta spend the rest of today turfing.”
Marie holds the door open and frowns at her agent. “You've put in over fifty hours on agent business this week. You need the rest.”
“I need the money ,” Agent Four sets the zapfish down safely and turns to Marie, looking in her eyes, then at the floor. She rubs the back of her neck as she adds, “I—I mean, uh... you need your parent's permission to move out and live alone when you’re a kid. I had to tell mine I'd bring them money every week. They'd rather have me at home, helping out.”
Seriously? “Parents are supposed to support their kids, not the other way around.”
“They do. But...” Four sighs and drags a hand down her face. “Never mind.”
Marie grabs her arm as she goes for the door and turns Four to face her. “If you're tiring yourself out, it could endanger you in the field. Tell me.” She won't let Four get splatted, or worse, kidnapped like Gramps was two years ago.
Like Callie is now.
Four sighs. She refuses to meet Marie's eyes as she says, “My older siblings all gave up on their dreams of league winners and turf masters and everything, and now they need my parents to help them out a lot , because my parents spent all that money on their apartments and equipment. Between that and the younger ones, no one ever has any time or money, so all my stuff is hand-me-down’s and my oldest sister's learning weapon manufacturing and the other older sister's at inkblot and the first twins are studying fashion design and--”
“So your parents are making you pay for your own apartment and their education?” Marie puts a finger under Four’s chin and tilts her head up until she’s looking at Marie. “It sounds like just paying for yourself is more than enough.”
“It would be, but because I'm not home—I'm the middle child, if I were home I'd be watching the other twins and, and, there are eleven of us!” Four steps out of Marie’s hold. “And there are a million stupid rules, to try to keep everyone in line. I don't care how tired I am, I'm making enough money that I don't have to go back.”
Marie bites her lip as Four stalks away, her shoulders hunched. “Have you tried Grizzco? The work is messy, but it pays--”
“They fired me,” she says.
Marie's jaw drops. “I didn't know they did that!”
Four’s laugh catches in her throat. She turns back to look at Marie. “Well, yeah. I mean, I did kinda, uh, never mind.” Her cheeks tinge blue; she rubs one hand over her eyes in a single fast swipe. “I've been playing a lot of nights, and still working on my ranks. Don't worry about me.”
“I could pay--”
“No!” Four scowls at her, tears on her cheeks. “I'm not going to be—be beholden to you for something. I can do this myself.”
Marie opens her mouth, but Four's already down the drain. Marie doesn’t go after her--the girl is upset enough. Instead, she goes into the cabin and makes a shopping list. No more ten-hour days for her agent, not if she’s turfing, too. And if she’s that tight on money, her agent may be skipping meals.
It won’t take much to fully stock the cabin, but she’s gonna take care of her agent, even if no one else is.
***
“It's a slosher. It's a bucket. Not a hat. Take it off your head!”
"Autobombs are not chickens. Clucking at them is inappropriate."
“That's not going to work. It's not going to work. Oh for—because centrifugal force! Do I need to give you a science lesson?!”
"How the--did you just teach an octobomber to play tic-tac-toe?! And you lost?!"
“Just because the splatling fires a lot of bullets doesn't mean you don't have to aim .”
“You are not the Mother Autobomb, and you cannot get a gaggle of them to follow you like ducklings.”
“I don't care how much fun you're having, chargers are still better than splatlings.”
“Hey, you've gotten good with those dodge ro—that was a wall.”
“I don't care how many tricks you could do with one, you're not taking the bounce pad with you. It wouldn't fit in your apartment. And we're not installing it by the cabin—oh, just leave it already!”
“What do you mean, the octoboss has more new clothing than you do? It's freaking armor! Look, finish this fast and I'll buy you something nice.”
“Holy squit, that was fresh. And yeah, I actually already got ya something. Wanted to surprise you. Nope, no objections, you earned it.”
***
Marie sits in the stands near The Reef, her thermos full of tea halfway to her mouth, watching. Four dodges around a blaster, shoots twice, dodges again, and takes them out, then throws a sprinkler on the bridge's underside so it rains down on her other opponents and keeps the squid with the rainmaker from swimming away. By the time her teammates have respawned, she's splatted the rainmaker carrier and the shield's reformed.
She then manages to splat herself between the shield and the side of the bridge, making Marie groan. That's such a newbie mistake. Though to be fair, Four is a newbie.
The match goes back and forth for a while. With twenty seconds left, Four gets a triple and grabs the rainmaker. Rather than charge forward and get splatted by the splatterscope waiting for her over the bridge, Agent 4 veers left. Flanked by her only useful teammate, she fires again and again, clearing a path behind the car and getting her team the lead... only to be splatted by a suction bomb she didn't notice as the timer goes off, signaling her team's win.
Marie smiles and leaves before the rest of the crowd can pay her any attention, and waits by the exit. When Four walks by, grinning, hugging her new ranked card to her chest, Marie calls out, “A performance like that deserves a crusty seanwich. My treat.”
Four jumps a foot, turning squid on the spot. She looks up at Marie from the pavement. “Uh--”
“Call me Hotaru in public,” Marie says, folding her umbrella. “Meet me at the shack? I know it's late, and I gave you the afternoon off, but your train back home won't leave until midnight.”
Agent 4 opens her mouth, closes it, and swims towards the drain. Marie moves away without a second glance.
By the time Marie returns to the cabin, Four's already waiting. She picks up her seanwich and smiles. “Um, thank you.” She looks down again. “How did you know I was playing today?”
“You told me yesterday, remember? You were looking forward to today's rotation.” Marie sits next to her on the bench. “Took me a while to find you; I forgot I never asked your name, since we only interact when you're on duty. Your parents named you Lucky, or is that just your handle? Have they come to any of your matches? They must be proud.”
Agent 4, Lucky, rubs the back of her neck. “I don't wanna be the same person I was at home. Name included. I changed my Turf Handle four or five times before deciding—well, I'm Agent 4, and 4-leaf-clovers are lucky, so I must be lucky.” She takes another bite of her seanwich as Marie sips her tea. “In fact, I can't think of a single unlucky thing about the number 4!”
Marie chokes and coughs, getting a napkin to her lips just in time to avoid spraying tea everywhere.
“Anyway, I wanted to thank you for letting me borrow the tetras today,” Agent 4—Lucky—continues, once she's sure Marie is okay.
Marie frowns. “Borrow?”
Lucky glances at Marie’s face, then away, and back again; she hunches her shoulders as she keeps her eyes on Marie. “It was—it was great playing with them. I had an absolute blast, and I think I was the top splatter every single match! I reached S rank, Marie. I never thought I'd get there—not really.” She pauses to take a sip of her special-charge shake (with extra sprinkles) and looks at her lap. “I wiped them down and polished them and left them by the zapfish tanks.”
Marie shakes her head. “That's not what I meant. Lucky, I didn't mean for you to borrow them. They're yours.”
“To borrow whenever I like, I know,” she says.
“No, to keep. They're a gift,” Marie says, because apparently the bow she wrapped around each one wasn't enough of an indication. “You've been working your tentacles into knots, doing agent work and playing turfed and ranked until all hours; you deserve something nice for yourself.”
Lucky puts down her shake. “You’re joking.”
“Why should I?”
“I can’t accept--”
“Take them or I’ll break into your apartment and throw them at you. And yes, I know where you live.”
“You’re--you--” Lucky looks at the broken snow globe, tears a tiny piece off her seanwich and shreds it, then glances at Marie sideways. “They’re really for me?”
“Do I need to throw them--”
Lucky grabs Marie in a hug, cutting her off and knocking over Marie's thermos. “I've never—you didn't—thank you so much . I—oh!” Lucky releases Marie and scrambles backwards away from her, off the bench and tumbling into the dirt. “I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hug you! I was just—just excited, and it made me stupid, and it won't happen again I promise.”
Marie shakes her head, but doesn't even try to hide her smile. Normally she'd tell the girl 'Don't do it again' or something, but unlike Callie, Four, er, Lucky would take that seriously. “Don't worry about it,” she says instead.
Lucky wipes her eyes with the back of her hand and gets to her feet. “I should go. I—I can take them back to my apartment?”
“What part of ‘I’ll throw them at you’ didn’t you understand?” Marie deliberately doesn’t notice Lucky’s tears and continues to eat. But as Lucky scrambles inside, Marie picks up her phone and makes a note to watch Lucky’s next match.
***
“Bouncing a splat bomb off your brella six times probably is a record of some sort, but you still don't need to try it again.”
“Just because you've used your roller like a skateboard on solid ground doesn't mean you need to try doing skateboard tricks off the dash tracks.”
“Mary Squiddins was a movie. You cannot use your brella to—I'm not saying she's not real , I'm saying you're not magic!”
“It doesn't matter how fast you swap between settings on your VBL, you won't be able to throw your autobomb on your curling bomb and send the 'chicken' for a ride.”
“My umbrella is from a costume store . I don't care if you've never heard any of my music, I'm famous, I need a disguise. It doesn't look that much like a brella! And I do NOT look like that when I pose!”
“Yes, inkrails are fun, but I don't think they need to be greeted with quite that level of enthusiasm. Where did you even get pom-poms?...forget I asked.”
“Yes, you can hit things you didn't aim at with the blaster. You can still hit things you did aim at, though. Can you hit something directly? Anything?...even a box? ...for me?”
“Yes, jumping from inkrails onto bounce pads and back would be fun, but that still doesn't mean you need to bring a bounce pad with you back to Inkopolis. I'll suggest that for a future shifty station; I have some pull with Inkopolis News.”
“Yes, blaster shots explode, but you don't need to provide popping noises. The explosion sound is enough. Why did you bring bubble wrap?”
“Dodge-rolling in circles around the octolings guarding the mini zapfish works, but you could splat them, too. They respawn.”
“I know what you thought would happen, but what would you even do on the moon? No, no, you don’t need to try a bouncepad splashdown again. Once was enough… okay, fine, twice was--stop wasting your special cans!”
“Needing to use a charger on an octoboss does not call for that sort of language!”
“I don't care how much you hate charger, or how much I love charger, I'm not coming down to fight Octo Shower for you. Do I need to cheer? Rah, rah, rah. Go, Agent Four. Happy?”
“Dash tracks and curling bombs do work well together, but please stop trying to use them to hit the octoshower. I don't care how bad you are with charger, it can't be easier.”
“Callie?...CALLIE?!”
***
Marie stays in the cabin, flicking switches on the communicator, trying to reach Callie again, trying to get anything, anything, but the sound of Agent 4's breathing and the pleased yips as she pats the latest zapfish.
She stays there, breathing hard, even though she knows it's hopeless. Callie. And—and she's alive, she's working with the Octarians. If there's one thing Marie knows, it's that Callie wouldn't do that willingly. That's as true as her ink being green, the sky being blue, and Gramps disappearing for months at a time for silly reasons or no reason at all.
She should leave the room. She should go to the main room, where she can hear Agent Four moving around, probably putting the zapfish in the tank and getting changed into her normal clothes, the spotted shirt and striped bobble hat and those squid-patterned flats she loves so much, turning herself back into Lucky, just a normal squid with no sense of style. She should tell her agent how amazing she did today, this whole week, and tell her not to worry, everything'll be fine.
But she can't make herself leave her station, by the monitors watching Agent Four's progress, the headset she uses to communicate still on her ears, her notes for her next radio show and half-finished scripts and the time of the Tower Control rotation Lucky hopes to make B- at last (she really is terrible at it), and as she tries to stare at all these things and care all that's pounding in her head is Callie .
...Callie, and Lucky's voice over her headset, “Sorry about calling in—oh. Hi, Benji. Is Mom around?”
Marie blinks and reaches up to touch her headset. Lucky must've forgotten to take hers off.
“You did good in school, buddy? Didn't get into any more—no, no, teachers don't like it when you pretend sticks are inkbrushes and beat each other with them. Don't do it, Mom grounded me for—oh. Just an hour? And you got a cookie?” Lucky sighs hard. “Look, buddy, if Mom's not around... how about Dad? Lexi? Rich? Van? No, no, not Millie. Not—hi, Millsters. Did you make a new tentacle painting this week?”
Marie should take the headset off. She's eavesdropping and--
“Look, Lexi, could you tell the others I won't be home tomorrow? A friend of mine, Hotaru, needs some help.”
Marie stops with her headset halfway off.
“I do too have friends! I do! I... okay, I have acquaintances, okay? I know no one would really want to be my friend, but she's nice to me and needs a place to stay for a few days, her roommate's having issues, and I'm not leaving her in my apartment alone.”
Marie tears off the headset and scrambles to her feet. Lucky isn't in the main part of the cabin; Marie finds her outside. “I'll have the money—enough for two weeks, I promise—next time. Yeah, one time thing. I promise. I promise . I—oh.” She looks up at Marie, standing at the cabin's door. “Hi, Hotaru.”
“You left your headset on,” Marie says.
Lucky flushes blue. “Oh.” She pulls it off, then glances at the phone, sighs, and shoves it in her pocket. “Lexi hung up on me. I should call back in a few minutes, so she can get Mom and they can both yell at me properly.”
“Why did you do that?” Marie asks, collapsing onto the bench.
Lucky shrugs. “The same reason I followed you down the drain. You looked sad. No one should be that sad and be alone.” She tries to smile, but it's the fakest thing Marie's ever seen. “I found some crust bucket tickets down there,” she says. She looks at the ground, tugging on her longest tentacle, then back at Marie. “I'll get us something, so you can go over tomorrow's kettle with me while we eat, lemme know what should happen. And if I sleep on the couch, we can start again first thing in the morning.”
Marie's still trying to think of a response when Lucky squids away.
***
“Please be careful. I know running with the brush is ideal, but the floors are invisible. I'm probably panicking more than you are—and that's because you're not worried at all!”
“It doesn't matter where you stand, even if those octoslobs do hit each other, they're teammates. Their ink won't sting.”
“I took the liberty of answering your phone. No, don't worry about it. Your mother thinks I had a fight with my roommate and I'm buying all the groceries this week. And I am. Don't argue.”
“Slow down . I want to hurry, too, but if you get splatted it'll just take more time. You can't just leave octoslobs unsplatted and keep going if they know you're there!”
“Splat bombs aren't like burst bombs, hitting that octoslob in the forehead won't do anything because the splat bomb'll take a few seconds to...unless you hit them that hard. Goodness.”
“I may have hung up on your sister. I didn’t tell her where you live, but she’s coming to Inkopolis tomorrow. Do you want to sleep at the cabin tonight? I’ll stay with you; Callie and--we’ve camped out here before. You can use, um, my stuff, I need to buy a better sleeping bag anyway.”
“Tomorrow you're doing arm stretches and push-ups before you head out. Maybe when you get back today. You swing that brush slower than anyone I've ever seen.”
“I appreciate the effort, but there's a reason dualies are shooters. Also, you don't even have two sloshers to—that is going to hurt your charger aim even more than usual, stop it.”
“So, your brother seems rather irritated you didn’t go home this week. Please tell him I meant every word and let me know how he behaves the next time you visit. No, no, don’t worry about what I said.”
“Yes, I know you got some bruises off that one. Tell me, have we learned to stay at a safe distance when using stingray? Like you're supposed to with charger?”
“Blaster dualies may work, but only if they're both blasters, not blaster brush. You're going to wind up hurting yourself that way.”
“That’s it. Octavio--and Callie--should be down there. If you’ll wait a bit--I SAID WAIT.”
“Knock them off balance so they hold still for a second, got it?”
“Told you charger was better! SNAP OUT OF IT, CALLIE!”
“I trust you know what to do with that rainmaker?”
***
Even before Sheldon’s hovercraft lands, she’s hugging Callie. Callie hugs her back, and she’s so thin, and wobbles as the truck touches down. “Oof,” she says, releasing Marie, only so she can step back and look Marie in the face. “We’ve got a lot of catching up to do, don’t we?”
Marie cups Callie’s cheek with one hand. “Yeah, we do,” she says.
“Can we do it later?” Callie glances away, towards Four. “I think that--who is that, anyway?--but I think she needs help getting Octavio into the truck.”
Marie grimaces, but Callie’s right. “Agent Four. Had to recruit someone. You go in the truck and lie down,” she orders. “You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.”
Callie yawns. “Can we get crabcakes later?”
“And galactic shwaffles,” Marie says, pulling Callie into another hug. She only lets go after Callie does, and helps her cousin off the truck. Only when Callie’s in the passenger seat, pulling her tentacles out of their bow, already half asleep, does Marie turn.
Four and Sheldon have Octavio tied up, and Four is trying to coax a harness and leash on the Great Zapfish (where the shell did Four get those?). Marie comes up and puts her hand out. “Hold him still, and I’ll get it.”
Four passes her the harness, then starts scratching the Great Zapfish gently behind the gills. He lets out a happy bubbling noise and leans into the touch, letting Marie strap the harness around him, though Four has to lift up his fins for Marie to slip the proper parts beneath them. They’re back in Sheldon’s truck minutes later, Octavio tied up and cursing in the trunk, the Zapfish hitched to fly alongside, Sheldon driving, Callie fast asleep in the front seat.
They’ve been flying in silence for several minutes when Four says, “So I guess you don’t need to call me Four anymore.”
“We’re still on duty,” Marie reminds her.
“No, I mean,” Four sighs and keeps her eyes trained out the window. “She’s Agent One, right? Your cousin?”
“And closest friend,” Marie confirms. She’d never say that if Callie were awake, but right now, she keeps looking ahead, seeing Callie’s dark tentacles draped over the back of the seat, and smiling. Right now is a special time.
“And with Octavio dealt with, the Octarians probably won’t cause any trouble, right?”
Marie hums affirmation. She reaches out and takes Callie’s nearest tentacle in both hands, rests it on her lap, because after all these weeks it’s hard to believe this is real.
“So, you have another agent to help you, and even if you’re both busy, things are gonna be quiet. You won’t need me.”
Marie turns to look at Four, now, but Four’s still staring out the window at the clouds. They’re making good time; they should be back at the cabin in five, maybe ten more minutes. Absently, she starts massaging the tentacle she holds, the way she and Callie did for each other after splatfests.
“And since you don’t need me, I mean, I’m not just going to hang around when you’ve got--” Four’s breath hitches; she clears her throat. “You’ll have better things to do, and more important people to be with, and I’m not gonna get in the way of that.”
Marie keeps massaging Callie’s tentacle and raises an eyebrow, even if Four isn’t looking. Does she actually think--
“So I’ll leave my gear, and hero shot, and everything, and I’ll just go back to turfing and ranked and you never have to see me again.” she says in a hoarse rush, slumping over, still staring out the window. “I’ll just be plain old Lucky, and I won’t breathe a word about this to anyone , don’t worry. No one’d listen anyway.”
Marie snorts. “If you think you’re getting out of patrols that easily, you’ve got another thing coming.”
Four straightens. “Patrols?”
“Just because we think the Octarians are gonna be quiet doesn’t mean we can guarantee it.” She reaches for another of Callie’s tentacles, massaging away the stiff soreness she must have from keeping them tied up far, far too long. “I’ll give you a week off, but come next Monday, I need you down there. We’ll thrash out a patrol schedule--it’ll have to be at least once a week--and I’m gonna make you rotate through the weapons.” She leans back, pretending not to notice Four turning away from the window at last. “Charger first, I think--your aim really is atrocious--and maybe Callie will help you with roller once she’s recovered.”
“Coming in for a landing!” Sheldon calls.
Marie releases Callie’s tentacle to brace herself, but Four catches her hand. “Do you mean that?”
Marie rolls her eyes and pulls her hand away. “Like it or not, you’re a member of the Splatoon now, and we need you ready for any future incidents. Now grab that handle, there’ll be a bit of a bump.”
Four obeys. Once they’re landed, she jumps out to help Sheldon unload everything, and Marie takes a moment just to breathe.
Callie looks back over the seat. “Thanks for the massage.”
Marie groans. “How much did you hear?”
“Didn’t even fall asleep,” Callie says, grinning at Marie. “Why didn’t you just tell her she’s your friend?”
Marie unbuckles her seatbelt and stretches. “She’d never believe it.”
***
Marie sits in the stands of the reef, halfway through her third cup of coffee and still wishing she were asleep. Since Callie’s return, Marie’s been sleeping until nine, ten, even noon. Still, Callie needs to exercise to get her strength back, and Marie’s not about to let Callie go alone. Even if this is something like the eighth game of turf war in a row, and she had to get up at a stupid hour.
Looks like some new turfers joined the lobby. Marie looks at the overhead scoreboard. Blue team has 69-420-69, T0rfM@ster, [CENSORED], and Sarah12321. Pink team has Callie’s turf name, Aori, along with Duke, SkySwimmer, and Lucky.
Lucky?
Marie blinks and looks down at the two teams leaving their spawn pads. Sure enough, there she is: Lucky, in her polka-dots and stripes, races with Callie to the center of the bridge, throws down a sprinkler…
And starts squidflopping through it.
Callie joins her.
In moments, Callie and Lucky are chasing each other in circles, Lucky dodge-rolling while Callie tries to flatten her, and members of both teams are superjumping in trees, squidflopping, and dancing with their specials for the sheer joy of a squid party.
Marie rests her head in her hands and groans.
But she’s smiling.