Eight scrolled through the latest chat logs, stopping to stare at a black and white jpeg of an old-timey photograph. It depicted a bamboozler-wielding warrior going head to head with a blurred figure wearing a large, golden headpiece. Peral seemed to be convinced Cap'n Cuttlefish and Lieutenant Cuttlefish who "visited grievous losses upon the forces of the enemy" were one and the same.
She squinted at the snoring old squid sitting next to her, then back at the stoic fighter. Riiiggghhhhtttt.
"Hullo my test-taking fellow, I see you've got a thang and lived to tell the tale!"
Flicking her CQ device off Eight grimaced at the eel. Was he here to dissuade her from finding more? She cleared her throat, "Got somewhere to be?"
"No, no. Don't got anywhere to be these days."
Eight wondered if she got up and moved cars he'd follow. Too obvious. Better pick the next station and get off. Hopefully, he'll be gone by the time I get back. Reopening the device she toggled to the G-line.
"Wait, wait. I suppose a young'un like you won't be put out so easily"--He fidgeted in his seat, possibly already regretting his decision--"I can tell ya where the next thang is. If ya do me a favor first, that is."
Groaning, Eight examined the map. As she traveled deeper it only got more complicated. Colorful lines bent and wove with as much order as spilled ink. Elbert's last piece of advice gave a safe path to a thang. Now that there wasn't a new destination on the board she knew she needed directions more than ever. She turned back to Elbert, shoulders slumping in defeat.
"...aye."
They disembarked at central station. The eel slid past the telephone, angling towards a large gray door on the far side of the station. It took the two throwing all their strength at the door for its rusted hinges to grind open. Eight stepped back, wary of the noxious smell wafting from the shadowed room.
"Come on then," Elbert squeezed inside. Sounds of shuffling and bottles clinking together ensued.
"Hold these"
He tossed a frail cardboard box at her, every so often emerging to dump armloads of spray cans inside. She turned her head away, the rank of old paint growing with each bottle. When the pile reached precarious height they teetered back to the train.
"Okay, now boost me up."
"What?"
A ladder crawled the backside of a car, disappearing over the train's roof Elbert wiggled his empty sleeves for emphasis.
"Bit hard to climb for an eel."
Setting down the box she hoisted him to her shoulder. He almost slipped back down. Though lighter than Eight hypothesized the wiry frame had no friction, slick as swimming in ink. Changing tactics she grabbed handfuls of stripey polo and hauled him over the top, wincing as the shirt stretched in her grip.
"Now go get the box."
Sighing Eight awkwardly climbed, dropping several cans along the way. Cresting the train she almost dropped the whole package.
"By Kraken..."
The Deep Sea Metro had plenty of paint and scribbles scattered about on its otherwise officious steel paneling, but the roof surpassed it all. Stickers mingled with signatures. Loopy swirls and illegible scrawls lay side by side. A rainbow of color overlapped and interleaved. Some bits of graffiti could be decades old, while others painted yesterday. Either way, every centimeter of space had been filled.
Elbert offered her the contents of the box. Eight paused, fingers hovering above one with an Octarian magenta lid.
"Add something. Make your mark, and I'll give your directions."
Nodding she picked up the magenta and the deepest indigo in the collection. But when her attention went back to the canvas her train of thought once more experienced delays. What should I make? The sun I want to see? A memcake? Elbert cleared his throat.
"They'll try to sell you on leaving. And I don't blame ya if ya do. But please, Eight, try and find a bit of joy in the journey. Test subjects will get consumed by longing if they're not careful. There's worse fates than being a rider."
She considered his words. Any wisdom in them wavering as he flip-flopped to the floor, continuing to roll across half the platform after hitting the ground. One act of vandalism later she joined him.
"Head east of the A-straightaway. You'll hit the C-side line. That's where the next thang is."
She looked up before retreating to the train. Unseen above, a rough rendition of a test eightball dried drop by drop. Elbert didn't follow.
"Welcome aboard." CQ Cumber chorused.
Eight sat down. The unending itching to be zeroing in on the next thang had cooled to a trickle. Outside scenery passed. Kelp forests and impossible underwater worlds. It faded to a bricked-up tunnel before she turned on the CQ device.
---
A harrowing eightball maze construed of sponges and bounce pads formed test A08. After the third time being auto splatted from an eightball out of bound violation she almost threw off her ink tank and ran to the goal in hopes she could will the contraption to open on its own. But CQ Cumber probably wouldn't think the action would fit with the 'intention of the test'. Refilling her tank she continued, sending the ball forward one drop at a time.
Till finally, the eightball circled its pedestal goal. With a little help from a steady hand, it clicked into place. Running to the train, Eight opened the CQ device. Sure enough, a circular thang station popped onto the unfolding new line.
Starting on the next test lineup made Eight wish she could go back to the bounce maze. Between dodging bullets that triggered an instasplat and navigating a rotating stage space for balloon boxes she almost conceded at let Marina hack Kamaba Co for her.
"Sure you don't want me to trick the system?" She asked after Eight flew off a spinning platform for the fifth time.
"Mem cakes are... 'dreams made manifest.' " Eight quoted from Padre.
"You could always come back later to get them."
She shook her head. Only move forward.
It took her five more tries to pop the last box. Back on solid ground, she stumbled into the metro. A chime from the CQ device hailed a new station and chat log. A brief scan made her eyes widen, Cap'n had gotten a bit too bored while she'd been gone.
Heels clicking she jogged through the train until she reached him and opened the screen to display Marina's 'secret file'.
"Ah, Eight, looking through our conversation, huh?"
She scrolled down, pointing to Peral's second to last message.
MC.Princess> I swear, cuttlefish. If you try to splat Marina I WILL CUT A FISH. U GOT THAT?
"Hoho, that. Well, if it matters so much to you I promise that the Squidbeak Splatoon will let Marina's presence slide. If an old squid like me can learn to rap, maybe I can learn to get along with some Octarians." He laughed, "After all, we make quite the team, huh."
Eight nodded but wasn't finished yet. She scrolled up.
CraigCuttlefish> i think you need to see this. its from my top secret octarian dossier
"Do you have...my file?"
"I'm afraid we'd need to know your name to have any hope of finding something. Even so, there's no guarantee there'd be something."
He stared at his cane, "Marina's on because like it or not she did a lot in her short career in the military. We don't even know if you were part of the military."
"Righto."
She wandered off to find a vacant bench. Resting her head against the window she watched the train rush through a fathomless deep until her eyes were too heavy to stay open.
---
Invisible paths, flying inkjets, and self-destruct sculpting. Somedays it got hard to tell if the tests she took were reality or dreams. Today at least it was a good dream. She disembarked at another graffiti fraught hall, the sign above barely legible from neon stickers and the rust in between.
Smash & Dash Station
Here lies the precision thang...
"Onward!" Cap'n called through the radio.
It ended on a ledge next to a floating turnstile. Directly in front of her, a bladed disk encased a glowing sphere gyrated in lazy circles.
"Ink it!" Peral cried.
Eight obliged, snagging another selfie for her collection before carting it back to the train. A short ride later and they were back in Central Station.
"Slammin'! You have found the second thang!" The telephone honked.
"This is half of them. You are one bad mama jama...Rock on!"
"Forizzle!" Eight replied, entranced by the clanking speakers.
It shut down as Cap'n drew close.
"Hmm...So the four thangs come in different shapes and sizes..."
Marina hopped onto the call.
"They look like parts of something...I can't quite ascertain what, though."
Cap'n stiffened at the sound of her voice, clutching his cane tight enough to hinder ink flow.
"Hello there young lady, I am glad you are here."
"Uh, thank you?"
"Thangs sure are high tech. Bet you feel right at home examining them. Fits your background like a glove, eh?"
"Background? I don't understand--"
"He pulled up a file!" Peral cut in like if she held her words in any longer they'd make her implode, "A top-secret Octarian file and everything."
No response came from Marina except the sound of steadily increasing breathing. Eight moved closer to the radio, arms aching to reach out wishing to give Marina a hug big enough to close the insurmountable distance.
**Write more on Peral losing control of words. A waver in confidence*
"That's on me, Marina. But I never meant to dig into your past! You see, Cap'n and I were on the chat room. I sorta dug into his past. He's apparently fought Octarians. Then he thought you reminded of..." She took a heavy breath, scrambling to regain any sense of confidence that usually laced her language, "The point is I'm sorry. But it's okay, everything's cool. Kinda."
"No fan of the Inktantion is a foe of mine. I don't see species." Cap'n chanted in a voice so robotic Eight had to physically stop herself from banging her head against the subway.
"I--uh--wow," Marina stammered between gasps.
"You are so articulate, Marina."
Peral sighed, "Sorry...I mean, I always knew you were different, even if we never talked about it. I always figured...you know...with the jokes and stuff..."
"I never knew how to talk to you about it. Do you think..." Her melodious voice buckled, breaking as she searched for the end of her question. "Do you think I'll still be welcome in Inkopolis? If--once--everyone knows I'm an Octoling?"
"ARE YOU KIDDING?"
The radio crackled with the burst of volume.
"Of course you will! Everyone loves you!"
Marina's hyperventilating shifted to hiccups, "Thank, Pearlie."
"Okay, stop it with the waterworks before I change my mind." The causal confidence seeped back into the small inkling's tone. Even Cap'n eased the death grip on his bamboozler.
"Eight's an octoling too." He stated as if he needed a reminder.
"It all makes sense now!" Pearl exclaimed.
Maybe a reminder's not so bad. Pearl needs all the help she can get.
"I could tell right away, " Marina confessed, "Eight has also been touched by the Calamari Inkantation. Once our souls have been freed, there's no way we can continue to live under the oppression of Octarian society."
"Which is why we all need to work together."
"Yeah! We believe in you, Eight. Keep going! We'll do everything in our power to get you out of there!"
"To the surface." Eight whispered, mouth forming a word she couldn't quite recall when she learned.
"Promise."