Chapter Text
Something about this Palette didn’t feel quite right.
It was a similar discomfort to that when, while in a hurry to rush out the door, one accidentally puts their shoes on the wrong feet. Because of the nature of the day ahead, there was little time to sit and determine what felt so off. But it created a persistent scratch in the back of one's mind, poking and prodding until finally you find yourself staring down at your feet.
From the moment Agent Eight obtained the locker key necessary to reveal the next Palette, this was the very sensation which loomed over her; she couldn't find a better comparison when seeing Agent Four's Palette for the first time. Granted, she could find some solace in the knowledge that the Palette was now in her possession. Because this meant that, if she managed to get to the top of the tower with the Palette—and successfully face whatever awaited her in the control room—then her soul's link to the Memverse would be severed. Then she, along with all the other people whose souls were trapped here, would finally be back to normal. But even so... something just wasn't sitting right.
"What in the world?" Marina exclaimed from where she stood by the Spire of Order, Eight's attention being drawn to the sound of her voice almost right away. "This is Agent Four's Palette!"
Could it really be? This is what she remembers thinking at the time. Her eyes flicked back to the Palette, her hearts sinking as she spotted the little LED icon up in its corner, the symbol indicating who its owner was.
"Oh yeah, Agent Four!" Pearl chimed in. Her drone friend whizzed to the left, moving from Eight's right side to her left. She hovered not far behind her, looking over her shoulder at the Palette. But after a pause, the drone looked back up to Eight, her little eyebrows lowering. "Uh, who was that again?"
"One of the New Squidbeak Splatoon members that Cap'n Cuttlefish introduced us to." Marina informed.
"Ohhh yeah, the one who was supposed to be such a big shot." Eight didn't look up from the Palette, but could tell Pearl had wandered slightly in Marina's direction by the sound of that gentle whirring sound she always made. "Uh, what's Agent Four's Palette doing here?"
"Well, Palettes are actually a representation of part of someone's soul. I guess Order somehow pulled a part of Agent Four's soul into the Memverse, turning it into a Palette."
"What, for real?!" It was Pearl's time to make an exclamation, having now been caught up to speed. In an instant she was back at Eight's side, lowering herself to a spot in the air where she could look her in the eye. And when orange eyes met the illuminated screen, Eight knew they were in agreement about one thing, if nothing else: "Man, we better keep this with us. Wouldn't want anything happening to it."
To that end, she held no qualms as Pearl absorbed the Palette into their growing collection. Watching carefully as it transformed into various streams of light, first outlining the Palette, then becoming absorbed into the drone (neither of them were very sure of how it worked, but its convenience made it difficult to complain). But even with the knowledge that Four's soul could return safely to the real world in due time, this nagging feeling persisted.
For a while, the best she could manage was to tuck the feelings away, labeling them as a general concern for her dear friend and packing them away for later. Because (at least on a surface level) the rationale made sense. Eight struggled to recall the last time she and Four spent any quality time together, as various life events on both sides made their plans fall through time and time again. And because she was unsure of Four's status prior to... all of this, the seeds of worry were quickly planted within her.
But the shoe was still worn on the wrong foot, so to speak. Unfortunately though, there was simply not time to figure out what was making her feel this way. Not when the Spire of Order still loomed high overhead, serving as a constant reminder of what needed to be done.
So, she channeled these worries into something more productive: an unyielding desire to help her friends. To put an end to Order and allow them all to go home.
As of right now, her attempts at scaling the Spire of Order weren't very.. successful. But she had to admit, a feat as daunting as this only felt possible because she had the likes of Pearl, Marina and Acht (a person who seemed a little distant at first, but they were nice enough thus far). Having her friends alongside her in the elevator really made a difference—they went to great lengths to cheer her on each time they were attempting the first floor again, celebrating each victory with great enthusiasm. It was... really nice. Definitely a nice change of pace when compared to the trials she faced in the Deep Sea Metro.
Then again, anything was better than that. Eight would've happily chosen a repetitive tower over the isolated, unforgiving station.
So, even if starting all the way back at the spire's first floor was.. so discouraging, the weary octoling kept her head high as she entered the elevator once more. And once the group of four was all inside, they would begin their ascent.
For this attempt, Eight had decided to give one of her newer Palette's a try: the one belonging to her friend, Four. After all, she thought to herself, it would've been a good middle ground. After so many failed attempts as of late with the other weapons at her disposal (namely the umbrella, which... sorry Marina, it just wasn't working out for her right now), she felt sticking to something simple for a little while may have helped her chances.
However, as she went about collecting new chips for this Palette... something still didn't feel quite right. This was really starting to get under her skin—was it the way the colored chips clicked into place? Was something wrong with the Palette? She trained her eyes on the empty square slots, watching for anything out of the ordinary while carefully sticking her newest chip—run speed up—into the most recent spot.
And... nothing happened. The Palette, just as quickly as it appeared in front of her, soon turned into little streams of light and disappeared.
"Yo," Pearl called out, perhaps sensing the octoling's confusion. "You ready to go, Eight? This floor's not gonna beat itself!"
As the elevator's ascent came to a gradual stop, Eight's eyes wandered past Pearl, landing on Marina. When the two made eye contact, the DJ offered her an encouraging smile.
Nothing to be done about it now. Surely it was nothing.
She gave a quick nod of her head to Pearl. Then, her attention shifted to Acht, signaling for them to open up the door.
And just like that, the little duo were off again. The levels really did start to get easier the more they practiced, especially as the occasional floor-repeat occurred. But Eight had to admit, choosing Four's Palette for this attempt was a smart decision—weapons like Pearl's dualies and Marina's umbrella weren't terrible to use by any means, but they required some necessary upgrades to make them more user friendly. And so far, Eight couldn't say she's had much luck in getting high enough up the spire to obtain those upgrades. But the splattershot worked fairly well on its own (albeit lacking in some minor areas).
Mobility and range chips were most likely to appear with this weapon, a combination which she had yet to see on any other weapons in her possession. Upon reflection, it was almost funny how much this Palette reminded her of the inkling it belonged to (which made sense, considering it was Four's Palette). Agility was a word that so perfectly describe Four's style of battling, which corresponded very nicely with the mobility chips frequenting the Palette: in the times they would partake in turf war together, Four was always zipping around the map for some reason or another. Battling with Four was always such a treat; when on opposite teams, she made for quite the opponent. But when they were working side by side? They were unstoppable.
Maybe that's where that odd feeling was coming from. Maybe.. she just missed being with Four.
That feeling of (presumed) longing became a sort of motivator for Eight, and a damn good one too. She could've sworn she was in the midst of fighting a swarm of Jelletons, and now she blinked her eyes and.. she was approaching the first boss floor of the run.
Eight found herself watching the small, illuminated screen just above the elevator's buttons. It indicated that they were heading towards the tenth floor, with a little blinking up-arrow appearing next to the illuminated nine. And once the elevator slowed to a stop, that nine changed to a ten.
The metal doors slid open fluidly, as they always did, signaling to its passengers with a quiet ding! that they had arrived at their destination. Having already done this a small handful of times before, the octoling-agent felt she was more than prepared for whatever foe she was about to face. Just by looking through the door, it appeared at a glance like this was the Pinging Marciale fight again, which she'd done a couple times before and knew she could handle.
But then that continuous, uneasy feeling returned. It began to feel like, in stepping out of the elevator, she would be stepping out on to a fine tight rope. Her hearts began to drum in her chest, stringendo e fortissimo.
Sets of numbers—a dizzying string of ones and zeroes—filled the corners and crevices of the floor as her boss fight was loaded in, taking an appearing similar to golden glitter. Until, in a matter of a few moments, the stage was set.
As soon as the floor had been loaded in—as per Marina's (now Order's) programming—Pearl eagerly zipped out the elevator, flying through the air in a circular motion before doubling back to be by Eight's side. And normally, the octoling would've been right behind her as usual. But this time, she felt her legs were made of led blocks as she stepped cautiously outside the safety net of the elevator.
And that's when it happened. When the percussion in her chest began performing at mezzo-forte. Because somehow, deep down in her gut, she knew exactly what was about to happen.
They were hardly five steps out of the elevator when Eight noticed it: a puddle of murky ink on a platform nearly identical to the one they stood on. The arena was dead quiet, yet she swore she could hear the subtle sounds of something—someone—within the ink. And not even a second after that, a figure emerged from within.
It all happened so fast. Their limbs moved like a puppet on a string, somehow moving with both a clunky awkwardness and the fluidity of an Octarian solider. It soon became apparent why: she would watch as this figure finally freed its hand from the ink at their feet, reeling back to indicate this took great strength to achieve. It held a splattershot high in the air, a weapon identical to the one which appeared in her own hands.
And then, silence. Her pounding hearts came to a sudden stop, waiting with great anticipation while the figure's head fell forward.
While the inkling's head fell forward.
Her head shot upward in the next second. Glowing red eyes pierced directly into Eight's soul. Even from miles away, her distorted battle cry rang out clear as day. The sound summoned an entourage of robotic figures all around her. One appeared to have an imitation Pearl drone, the inky machine hovering beside the group.
Even as they disappeared back into the ink, waiting for their opponent to set foot in the arena, the image of that inkling still burned into Eight's retinas; the moment of realization had struck her with the force of a moving train. This must be why the Palette in her possession gave her such a nasty gut feeling, but she wouldn't be graced with the relief of a rallentando just yet.
She had to see for herself. She needed to know if this was her friend, or if it was a cheap illusion meant to test her skills. Because if Eight could help it, she swore to herself she wouldn't fight another friend.
Her trepidation caused her to approach the bird cage like the path ahead was coated in poison ink. But she persisted anyway, stepping on the platform with her head held high. Holding her breath as the metal bars clamped down around her. They were ascending over the battlefield in a matter of seconds.
Normally, this is the part where one of her friends would've offered her some last second words of encouragement. But instead, Eight's eyes were drawn to Pearl, who broke their routine by flying closely beside the cage.
"You doin' alright, Eight?" With the way her little eyebrow-knobs were tilted, it indicated that the drone was worried. "You're not looking so hot all of a sudden."
She couldn't think of anything clever to say in response. Not when there was such a prominent lump in her throat. Her face hardened, staring down at the pieces of armor waiting for her in the center of the stage.
Eight was hoping she could give the impression of a strengthened resolve through this, and luckily, it was enough to convince Pearl. She flew a quick lap around the cage. "That's the spirit!" And then another, "Ready, set..."
When the floor of the cage gave out, Eight was confident she wouldn't fall far. Pearl zipped around from behind at this exact moment, providing a handle for her to reach out and grab.
"GO GO GOO!" Pearl exclaimed. The wings of her drone-body flapped with a great passion as she brought them closer and closer to the arena's raised platform. Admittedly, her energy was quite infectious; Eight managed a smile as she let go of the handle, dropping the rest of the way and landing with ease. Immediately, she went for the two pairs of armor and collected them.
The anticipation for this encounter was quick to set back in, though. The octoling was quickly alerted to the presence of her opponents, first by a familiar jingling sound which usually meant a teammate was super-jumping to her location. Then she spotted the underside of an eerily familiar bird cage. It deployed one of the robotic underlings from earlier, drifting towards the arena with a Pearl drone of its own.
As soon as the opportunity arose, Eight began coating the nearby floor with her color of ink. Her poison ink chip wasn't upgraded quite as high as she would've liked, but that was something to work on later. She then lingered in her ink for a quick moment, using the time to observe her current opponent.
It was clear by the sounds following their landing that her opponent was using a blaster. Keeping their movements in mind, she swam down the ramp of the platform, rounding the corner and reemerging to get a better luck: a luna blaster, no doubt.
They made eye contact. Without skipping a beat, the metallic figure tossed a curling bomb her way. It launched from its hand towards her, leaving a trail of ink in its wake. Eight followed her instinct and backtracked to higher ground. The other gave chase.
Once she knew it followed her up, she made a quick leap off the edge. She spun around while in the air, firing ink at it all the while. It retaliated with blasts of its own. But before it could get the upper hand, Pearl launched a splat bomb on the platform. The bomb landed at its feet, exploding almost on impact. And with an explosion of periwinkle-colored ink, her opponent was no more.
"Nice!" Marina called out from the elevator. She and Acht liked to watch from afar when Eight was off completing a floor, and this instance was no exception. "This might be a good time to claim the high ground!"
Heeding her words, Eight swiftly went about covering the dark blotches of ink left behind from the blaster. And good thing too—it didn't take very long for her next opponent to be dropping down from above. An identical enemy, this time with a roller. It made its presence known quickly, dropping from their drone as soon as possible and slashing a vertical swing.
Eight dashed to the left, shooting out ink at her feet automatically, namely to help charge up her splattershot's special: the trizooka. While her attention was focused on the roller, her ears caught on that familiar jingle again, followed by another birdcage. As the roller worked to gain the upper hand, flinging slash after slash of its ink, an umbrella user gracefully dropped down from its cage.
This was going to require a bit of strategy. While keeping an eye on the umbrella’s location, she began backtracking again, this time returning to the west end of the stage after tossing a splat bomb of her own in the direction of the roller. There was plenty of un-inked surfaces to cover that way—if she acted fast, she could get her special charged in no time. The roller seemed to have taken splash damage at least, but Eight was too busy trying to recover ink while in her pursuit to check.
She could sense the umbrella’s presence over her shoulder, but trusted it wouldn’t come at her offensively due to the nature of the weapon. The roller was still the main priority, but it was important not to get overpowered by the two while focusing on one.
Just a little bit more… a little more, and…
A new power began to course through her veins in that moment. Her tentacles took on a sort of glow; if her opponents held any sort of awareness, they would’ve surely known what this meant.
Spinning around to face the oncoming fleet, Eight held out her hands, a series of glowing lights culminated in her hands (much like the Palettes when Pearl absorbed them, or when her weapon of choice appeared at the start of a floor). The lights created a blocky, 3D shape, then transformed before her eyes into a trizooka.
After resting the weapon on her shoulder, she only needed a second to take aim. A single shot took out the roller, as it left itself open while chasing after her. Then she took aim at the umbrella, finding that it was falling back a bit with its shield donned. Eight’s second shot hit the umbrella dead-on, but it wasn’t quite enough to destroy the shield. She opted to wait an extra moment before taking aim once more, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. And luckily, her patience paid off: the umbrella wielder transformed into squid form momentarily, doing so while it jumped towards a puddle of its ink. A quick trigger was all it took to clear this next wave.
“That’s how it’s done.” Acht remarked. “Just one more wave, so don’t get sloppy.”
That was her cue to clean up a bit more. Maneuvering past the puddles of ink her opponents left behind, she opted to return to high ground before planning out her next strategy. But now that she was here, able to catch her breath for a moment, she felt a sudden pang in her chest. Still no sign of Four. What was she going to do when Four appeared? Could she trust that this was the real Four? What if it just looked like Four, and this was all just a funny coincidence?
Having gotten caught up in her thoughts, Eight didn’t take notice of the next bird cage until it was two seconds too late. A new sound alerted her to the presence of her next enemy encounter, this time in the form of a charging special which made her blood run cold: a triple splashdown.
Despite knowing in her gut that she was safe from this distance, she backtracked to the western side once again, back pressed up against the wall of the raised platform.
The splashdown was the splattershot’s special. That’s the special that Four typically used.
This couldn’t have been a coincidence anymore, could it? This must have been fate, that’s why all the cards were being dealt in this very order. Her hearts began skipping out of time again, her breathing growing shallow as a response.
”Hey Eight, it’s over here!” Pearl indicated, flying a short distance away and indicating with a small beam of light where the position of the nearest enemy was. Presumably it was the splattershot user, but Eight could hear the incoming sound of more bird cages—who knows how many foes she had to face now.
Not that it mattered, she had bigger concerns right now.
Those other three enemies she faced had splatted like any other inkling or octoling would, but there was no indication beyond that they respawned like she did… Assuming that this was the real Four, what would happen if she splatted her? Should she take that chance—?
The monochromatic inkling appeared out of a puddle of ink Eight failed to cover. The bursts of ink being fired at her caused at least a few of her hearts to stop—in a panic, she quickly slipped into her own ink and made a mad dash in the opposite direction.
This wasn’t her brightest idea, though: rounding the corner only caused her to encounter her next foe, as a dualie wielder came dodge-rolling in her direction. Eight opted to hop out of her ink at this point, knowing that her newly acquired run speed would both help her get away from her attackers, and would allow her a few seconds to observe the current situation. A layer of armor quickly broke apart as a result, but it was a risk Eight was prepared to make.
Luckily, Pearl came in clutch once again, tending to the dualies with her now-charged up inkstrike. Eight had to do a haphazard headcount once the dualie wielder was taken out, a new wave of panic washing over her in this moment. But to her relief, she managed to spot the splattershot user, who got a little too close to the inkstrike’s blast radius for comfort. But she was still alive, and that’s what mattered right now.
The only other remaining enemies were a slosher and a brush. Conflicted, her eyes were turned longingly towards the elevator platform up above, where she and Pearl came from at the start of the battle. If only she could somehow get them up to the elevator, maybe then something would be different. If this was some kind of brainwashing, maybe they could figure out how to undo it. But as it stands, they wouldn’t be able to return to the elevator until the floor was completed.
Unless…
A recent hack that she purchased with her pearls came to mind in this moment. There was a hack Marina offered which caught her eye, one that she felt would get her out of a pinch during times when she was surrounded by Jelletons. It might’ve been a stretch, but if she planned this out just right…
”Hey, Earth to Eight!” Pearl’s voice cut through her thoughts suddenly. “Now’s not the time to zone out, we got baddies on the way!”
And she was right, her adversaries were closing in on all sides. No time for second guessing, now was the time to act!
In order for this plan to work, she would’ve needed an attack that ideally could hit her while in the air. But she wasn’t sure how to pull that off at it stood.. circling around the arena, Eight watched her opponents very closely, throwing her own ink around occasionally in order to slow them down. She could utilize the dash tracks to gain a little height, but unless she was hoping for an upward strike from the octobrush, this didn’t seem feasible…
A new type of sound alerted her to the attack patterns of her enemies, coming in the form of a missile being launched. Several missiles, in fact. Looking at her feet, Eight was quickly made aware of the position she was in. Shoot—while rounding a corner again to avoid the oncoming missile attack, she managed to catch the split second moment where the slosher made a set of missile launchers in its hands disappear into beams of light.
Wait, that’s it!
Weaving in and out of enemy attacks, Eight did a full loop around the arena again. Some carefully planned squid rolls were necessary to avoid the splattershot, as she was hot on her trail with the tenacity of a bloodhound. But so far, so good.
The octobrush was trying to perform a stealth attack, disappearing into its ink for a minute or so in the hopes that Eight would run right by. But unfortunately for the brush, its Pearl bot clone gave away its position. One carefully timed attack was all it took to wipe it clean off the map.
And now, they were down to two.
Gathering up all the resolve she could muster, Eight doubled back around and traveled from the north to the west end once more. And just as she anticipated, the inkling wasn’t far behind. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike again.
Four… I’m so sorry about this. Eight thought, readying her own splattershot. But I’m gonna save you. I promise.
The shots were coming again in no time, but she was anticipating that by this point. She got right to work, shooting as much ink around the floor as she could. It didn’t take long for this—in combination with her strategy of running circles around Four—to make the inkling get stuck in her ink.
This was where everything counted. Having the upper hand, Eight tossed the occasional bomb around to back the inkling up against the middle platform. Slowly but surely, like a complicated dance, Four all but had her back pressed to the wall. The octoling watched as her friend began attempting to change into inkling form, in some kind of effort to get unstuck from the ink.
In a split second decision, Eight tossed her splattershot to the side.
”Huh?!” Pearl exclaimed. “Eight, what are you—??”
In the very next moment, the octoling dashed towards her friend, tackling her to the ground. The inkling was quick to try reaching for her gun, but after a struggle, Eight managed to knock it out of her hands before she could pull the trigger.
Assuming she understood the attack pattern of these monochrome foes, Eight didn’t think the struggle would go on for long beyond this point. But instead…
WHAM!
A good punch to the jaw from Four had her practically seeing stars. She had to admit, she was not expecting that. But it was like her body knew just was to do, even as she struggled for a moment to process what was going on. Her hands worked quick to try and pin Four’s arms to the floor, which proved quite challenging, as she was doing everything in her power to squirm towards the weapon that slid a few feet away.
”Eight, what the heck are you doing?!” Pearl zipped over to the two, illuminated eyes somehow managing to accurately capture her disbelief. “If you’re trying to give yourself an added challenge, I’m all for it, but this is—“
“Pearl, please trust me.” She managed to spare a glance to her friend, but her attention was forced back on to the inkling when she started trying to throw another punch. Eight knitted her brow together in concentration. “I have a plan, and I can’t do it without you. Can I count on you to give us a lift?”
There was a brief pause. In the two seconds of contemplative silence, Eight feared that the drone would require some serious persuasion in order to gain her assistance. But she held her breath in anticipation for two seconds more, when…
”..alright, I’m in.” Pearl did a little spin in the air, then flew up a bit higher, intending on keeping an eye on the remaining enemy. “Whaddaya need me to do?”
Eight managed to flash her friend an appreciative smile, before returning her attention to Four again. “Just stay right there. Be prepared to catch us.”
”I’m on it!!”
Perfect. Now they just needed to get into position. Gritting her teeth all the while, Eight attempted to pull the inkling closer to the dash rail, working to grab her arms to make moving her around a bit easier when the time for action came. This only seemed to make her adversary struggle more, letting out a garbled noise in the process.
”Four please, if you can hear me, I need to—“
WHAM!!
A shattering sound filled her ears, in addition to a ringing in her ears, which.. was probably related to the second blow she would take to the face. But the first sound indicated that her final piece of armor had broken off. Which, funnily enough, was just what she needed right about now.
Alright, everything was going just right so far. Now all they needed was for that slosher to—
“Eight! Tenta Missiles incoming!!” Pearl called down to the duo.
Right on cue.
Eight sent a cursory glance up in the air, able to watch as a set of missiles went up, up, up until they hit their peak height. Only one way for them to go now.
Here’s to hoping that this crazy plan worked.
In a split-second moment, Eight threw her arms around the inkling. Then she threw herself at the dash rail, sending the pair flying up into the air. Just as this was happening, the barrage of missiles came spiraling down through the air, right in her direction. In her final moments before impact, she shut her eyes tight, hoping and praying that this would go according to her plan. She braced for impact by hiding her face in Four’s hair.
BAM! BAM BAM BAM!
Only one or two missiles were necessary for her base armor to break. With another crashing sound filling her ears, she and Four were given an additional boost, thanks to Marina’s “broken armor jump” hack. Eight didn’t dare look down—instead she looked straight ahead. The end was in sight.
”Pearl, now!!”
“I gotcha, Eight!!”
Just like before, she knew Pearl would be right there to catch her. And just like when the match began, the two were gliding together in style.
”Pearl, Eight!” Marina exclaimed, having stepped out of the elevator with disbelief for what she was watching. “What are you guys doing?! You’re not supposed to—“
”Look out, ‘Rina!” Pearl called in response. “The three of us are comin’ in hot!”
Acht, who remained in the elevator for the sake of keeping them on this floor, reached their hands out the doors just enough to grab Marina by the shoulders and pull her back inside.
And good thing, too. Eight had opted to get as close to the elevator as they could before dropping—whatever state of mind the inkling appeared to be in, she didn’t seem aware of just how big of a drop was below them at this point in time. She didn’t want to risk Four breaking free of her grasp until they were basically inside.
Which turned out to be the correct decision. When she let go of Pearl’s handle, the two of them went tumbling to the ground, almost rolling together due to their combined weight. From the moment their feet touched solid ground again, Four was trying desperately to wriggle free from Eight’s grasp.
Come on, come on, come on! We’re so close!!
”Don’t worry, I gotcha!”
Eight suddenly watched as a pair of gloved hands helped wrangle the wiggling inkling, grabbing her by her arm so Eight could take other one. She had little time to process the change, but in the briefest of moments, she could at least acknowledge that Pearl transformed back into inkling form to offer her a hand.
Despite her size, Pearl packed a mighty punch. This was something Eight knew about the inkling for.. practically as long as she’d known her. But this also applied to this moment, where the two of them alone managed to drag Four back to the elevator.
”The button, quick!” Pearl exclaimed.
She didn’t need to say much more than this, since Acht was already standing by the buttons. No sooner than the command was given, they slammed their fist into the “door close” button.
Four, while continuing to thrash about like a wild animal, reached a desperate hand towards the elevator doors. But she was unable to do anything but watch as the metal doors slowly slid shut.