Festivities

by Faye_555

Summary:

Eight decides to take their first vacation in years, but a festival this large isn't exactly within their comfort zone. Still, maybe they'll learn something, or even remember something.

Chapter 1: Friday

The weekend of the Grand Festival had come at last. Only a week prior, Eight had been fighting off Salmonids at the planned venue. Or, at least, a section of it, the Grand Splatlands Bowl, it was named. A favour for Marina and Pearl, naturally, as Eight typically did work for Grizzco only when their trigger finger was feeling restless.
This was Eight's second trip to the Splatlands, having previously visited when taken along for Off the Hook's world tour a few months earlier. The trip was as long as ever, no matter the means of transportation. After all, Eight lived in Inkopolis, meaning they had to travel for this particular event.
...But unfortunately, unlike the world tour, they were prohibited from being brought along as Off the Hook's personal guest, though they did get a free ticket! Better than nothing at all.

So, a shuttle bus, it was. Quite a lot of them, actually, an entire convoy of such buses left Inkopolis regularly in order to transport the attendees. Eight was aboard one, gazing out of the window, whilst they were carried across Inkopolis Bay by way of Hammerhead Bridge. The early morning sun bathed the sea in light, and Eight found themself staring wide-eyed at the sight of the waves.

The fellow passenger they'd been looking past decided to ask, "You said it was down there, right?"

Acht. A fellow former Octarian and, since a certain incident a few months back, a friend. They, too, were Off the Hook's guest on the world tour, but it seems this time they were also unlucky. Still, they and Eight had decided to attend the Grand Festival together, even sitting together on the journey.

"I assume you're referring to the Kamabo facility. Yes, it was beneath that bay. But to be honest, I wasn't really thinking about that."

"Probably for the best." Acht replied. They didn't remember their time in the undersea facility, whereas Eight recalled it all in vivid detail. They'd agreed, mutually but wordlessly, not to discuss such painful events. Perhaps it was simply too awkward for both of them.

After a few moments, Eight followed up, "Sights like this one are why I'm truly glad I chose to forsake the domes. The ocean is a magnificent thing."

"Yeah..."

The view of the bay couldn't last forever, because soon enough, the bus was back onto the mainland. The eastern Splatlands, far less lush than Inkadia, but still teeming with life- if you knew where it was hiding. This eastern end wasn't a desert, not truly, not in the same way the northern and western Splatlands were. Still, it meant less pleasing scenery to enjoy, though to an Octarian who grew up in an underground shelter, any view of the surface was a welcome one.
As such, Eight and Acht continued watching from the window, sitting silently as the two of them watched the world go by.
Well, Eight did. Shortly, Acht grew bored of the scenery. They slouched down in their seat, and placed their hat over their eyes, including over their glasses. A fairly typical thing for Acht to do when understimulated, really.

A couple of hours passed still before the bus finally arrived at the Grand Festival venue. Eight had to wake Acht by gently tapping them on the shoulder; a trick Marina made sure to inform them of. Stepping off of the bus, Eight was practically blinded by how bright everything was, in fact, they were reminded of the first time they set foot into Inkopolis. In this case, it was only the sun reflecting off the bright sands of the Splatlands. Being a desert, it was however significantly warmer than Inkadia.
Along with Acht, Eight collected their luggage, which was contained entirely within a gym bag, since this was only one weekend.
In addition to the free VIP tickets, Pearl had said she'd provide the duo with accommodation, but there weren't any hotels around here. Both Eight and Acht understood this most likely meant they'd be sleeping in a tent, which Eight was content with; they were adjusted to 'roughing it', so to speak.
Acht was less thrilled.

Directly adjacent to the bus stop was a small, spartan train station, but the tracks had been cordoned off using temporary blockades. Presumably the train would not be coming through for the duration of the festival. Following the tracks soon led to the campsite, which was packed with people of all races and creeds; Inklings, Octolings, Jellies, Urchins and so on. As the festivities had yet to officially begin, many attendees were sitting by their tents, chatting, eating breakfast, swapping albums, and so on.
Wandering through the crowds, the duo eventually located their temporary home, and it was...suitably extravagant, considering their benefactor. The largest tent in the area, essentially a miniature house, and bright pink to boot.
Upon seeing it, Acht let out a breathy groan, followed by a short snicker.

"Well, it's certainly visible. We won't lose track of it." Eight stated plainly. Acht said nothing.

They approached closer when an Octoling stepped out of its doorway, and upon seeing Eight, froze, then said, "Ah, you must be the guests. Miss Houzuki told me to expect you, and I've just finished setting up."

Eight raised an eyebrow, but replied, "We appreciate it. Please give Pearl our gratitude."

"Of course, now if you'll excuse me." and with that, the Octoling marched off, seemingly with other matters to attend to.

Inside, Eight placed their bag down on a bed, and Acht followed suit on another.

"So who was that?" Acht inquired.

"One of the Houzuki family's attendants," Eight answered, "I've seen him before at Pearl's home."

Before long, having grabbed a couple of bottles of water from the (obviously fully stocked) mini-fridge, both of them set out to the venue proper, anticipating that the festival would begin very soon.
By now, the campsite was less crowded, but still fairly dense, and the pair had to wade their way to the venue's entrance. After showing their tickets to a Jelly in sunglasses (who knew they made sunglasses in that shape?), they passed through the gate to the festival venue, and were immediately showered in multicoloured ink. Eight was decidedly unimpressed.

"I wore my best outfit for this event!" they bemoaned, holding their arms in front of them slightly and looking down at their now very colourful getup.

"Lighten up. Besides, that's the same outfit you always wear." Acht said as they shook their head, their hat having now turned from white to a multitude of colours.

They had a point. Eight was wearing an Order Regulator (a replica they had personally commissioned, rather), a Commander Tunic, and a pair of Octoleet Boots. This was, true to Acht's words, the ensemble Eight wore on most days.

"Indeed, and it's my best. That's why I wear it."

Acht nodded. "Same, actually."

They continued on, but before long, Eight stopped dead in their tracks. Acht quickly turned to ask what was wrong, and Eight pointed at a poster on a nearby stall.
It depicted DJ Octavio, the notorious Octarian.

Acht hummed before turning all the way around to face Eight. "Did you not know the old man was gonna be here?"

Eight shook their head, looking uncharacteristically perturbed.

"I'll cover for you if we see him, don't worry."

Hearing that, Eight at least somewhat regained their composure. "...Thank you."

Acht only nodded.

With that settled, the pair wandered further into the grounds, taking mental note of various stalls selling merchandise. The stall with the Octavio poster currently stood empty, though it appeared its function was to be a vendor stall for Grand Festival themed t-shirts. The row of stalls to its right featured all manner of idol merchandise, starting with a stall for Squid Sisters merch, followed by one for Off the Hook, and finally a third, for Deep Cut. Acht idly browsed each one whilst Eight waited and scoped out the surroundings. They had yet to see anyone they knew, and they had started to take note of what a tactically indefensible position this location was. If an enemy were to attack; Octarians, Salmonids, or who knows what else, the attendees of this festival would be helpless!

Eight was lost in thought by the time Acht finished browsing, and was brought back to reality by the revelation that Acht had bought a plush doll of the Squid Sisters' Callie.

"She's my favourite." Acht explained.

Eight only nodded with a small smile- probably the first time they'd smiled today- and then Acht continued past them, Callie doll in hand, and up a small set of steps leading to a performance stage. The stage was beige, with a circular motif, featuring numerous spike shapes jutting out of it. Eight could only assume it was meant to represent an urchin. Before the stage, a crowd had already gathered, as the music was scheduled to begin in only a scant few minutes.
Acht noticed a VIP tent off to the left of the stage, and headed over to it, being waved through by the security Jelly (those odd sunglasses again). Eight, too, was granted access, and, whilst they both chose comfortable positions from which to observe the stage, smoke burst up from the urchin-shaped structure...and out came the Squid Sisters. The crowd exploded into applause and cheers, and after a brief welcome speech by Marie, the idol duo put on the opening performance, their song Tomorrow's Nostalgia Today.
Acht was already tapping their foot and nodding their head to the beat, whilst Eight simply stood with their hands behind their back, taking in the music.

This was a good position for them both. A place away from the crowd, because, to put it bluntly, neither of them were 'people' people.
The rest of the day played out much the same. After the Squid Sisters came Chirpy Chips, followed by Hightide Era, then Squid Squad...it seemed most major bands had shown up for the festival.
Eight only listened, hardly moving from their position in the VIP tent apart from fetching refreshments. This suited them just fine. After all, music was one of the most important things in their life.

Chapter 2: Saturday

Summary:

Being so disciplined in a society like this one can make a person feel rather out-of-place.

The second day of the festival came, and as usual, Eight was up, dressed, and ready at daybreak.
Unlike everyone else, it seemed.
Just like always, Eight had turned in for the night at a reasonable hour, whilst Acht only retired...a couple of hours ago. Eight knew this was typical and had no particular feelings on the matter, but was growing restless with nothing to do in their (admittedly fairly spacious) tent.
So they decided to take a morning walk, leaving as quietly as possible, though soon finding it wasn't really necessary. The music never truly stopped; the festival was on for a full seventy-two hours, after all. When the bands weren't actively performing, recordings of their music were played instead, and attendees were free to come and go.
Eight strode through the ocean of tents, which were surprisingly quiet, apart from a few people returning only now, at this hour. Incomprehensible, they thought. This society is lacking in discipline, but they'd already adjusted to that.
At least the heat was somewhat more tolerable today.

After reaching the gate, they once again were coated in the rainbow ink, though it didn't bother them...quite as much this time. Only a little. A tiny bit. Maybe.
The stalls were still running, too, with a change of hands, naturally. Speaking of stalls, many of them sold food, and Eight could...probably eat. They were used to going a day or two without eating, but this was ostensibly a leisure trip, so perhaps breakfast was in order, should the stalls be serving.
To the right of the gate, there was a Robo ROM-en stall! They serve quality ramen, certainly, but that isn't really what Eight had room for. The next stall sold fruit, specifically tanghulu, but Eight never had much of a sweet tooth.
The next stall! A gyros vendor! Perfect. They'd eat anything between two pieces of bread, frankly.

"I'll take one with everything," Eight ordered.
With their food delivered and in hand, they were unsure what to do with themself besides eat. It seemed the jellies running the stalls didn't need much help, and the Inkfish running around all appeared content. Looking around more surely wouldn't hurt, since yesterday, they only saw one section of the venue.
Continuing down the path lined with stalls, they ran into a familiar face; tall, cycloptic, looking somewhat disinterested, why, that's Murch!
Wait, when did Murch get so...huge?

"Good morning, Murch."
Murch looked up from his phone. "Oi, chum. What'll it- hey, Eight. Been a while, chum. How you been?"

Eight and Murch have a history, albeit a brief one. Murch was the first person Eight encountered on the surface, immediately after being delivered to Inkopolis via the subway. They'd briefly talked; Murch explained the concept of Turf Wars, and Eight had sought his help once or twice with Gear, but other than that...

Reflexively, Eight stood at attention, except with a gyros in their right hand. "I've nothing of note to report," which wasn't true, they just couldn't tell anybody about the Memverse incident.

"Hah," Murch exclaimed. "You still talk like that? Nothing to report's a good thing, at least, yeah?"

Eight nodded. "Yes. What brings you here?"

"Business. There's a whole lot of Turf Wars going on here, so I'm here to capitalise. I got bills to pay too, you know."

Of course, his conical party hat said otherwise.
"You're conducting business at this hour? Unusual." Eight commented with a slightly raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, I'm covering for someone, today. Wasn't my idea."

"I see. Well, I won't-"
Eight was suddenly interrupted by a group of four Inkfish charging up to Murch, who struggled to hear them over each other.

"Okay, chums, just- listen- let's catch up later, Eight!"

Eight nodded again and backed away, leaving Murch to deal with the various Gear orders the battlers wanted to order, or in some cases, collect.
Their gyros was getting cold anyway, so they continued to eat as they walked on to explore the venue a little more.

Past Murch was another aisle of stalls, stretching as far as Eight could observe, but the path was closed off; apparently most of the stalls wouldn't open until later in the day. Without access to that section open, the only route aside from backtracking would be to follow the ramp that, if Eight recalled correctly (and they usually did), led to another musical stage. So, upwards and to the stage it was.
Another space lined with VIP tents waited, and the centrepiece was indeed another stage, but this one, Eight guessed, was intended to resemble a seashell of some description. The entire structure was a very large tent, with the performance stage on the far end, meaning the audience would gather inside, which many people were already doing.

Perhaps Eight didn't always remember perfectly, because they didn't remember who was supposed to be playing first today, and on which stage. They'd probably find out soon enough. They tried to remember but became distracted when a tiny figure came running out from the crowd under the canopy. Followed by another. Wasn't that Donny? And Shelly, too?
Does that mean Sheldon could be here?

"Children, if you'd care to-" Eight attempted to call out to them, before a familiar voice caused them to quickly stop.

"Don't worry so much about them, Eight, you know they can take care of themselves." the warm, nasally voice, spoke. Eight knew that voice.

Sheldon! They turned to see their boss, a diminutive horseshoe crab in thick glasses.
"Ah, good morning, Sheldon!" Eight said with a bow.

"Same to you! Good to see you here, Eight. I struggled to imagine you taking a weekend off! I assume Donny will see you back at the square's Ammo Knights on Monday?" Sheldon belted out with his trademark speed.

Eight could keep up. "Yes, of course. Whilst you're here, I've some questions about a new weapon that came in by the name of Decavitator."

Sheldon huffed a smile. "Sorry to do this to you, and do it to myself, but I'm on vacation, so can it wait until next week?"

Vacation? Eight occasionally struggled to conceive of such a thing, but agreed. "...Yes, okay. I'll call you on Monday about it."

"Right-o!" Sheldon cried before he took off running after Shelly and Donny, leaving Eight alone again.
Eight let out a sigh of minor annoyance. Alone again. Everyone seems to know someone here. Of course, Eight came with Acht, but Acht wasn't exactly the social type. Then again, neither was Eight.

Finishing off their gyros, they walked back the way they came, growing somewhat impatient over how the live music had still yet to start, in addition to being alone. The perils of being early to rise, they thought.
Passing by Murch again- busy with more battlers- they soon passed by the Robo ROM-en stall again, which was now equally busy. Four Inklings, all with matching blue ink, were placing orders.
Pickled what, now? Who in the world would put that on ramen? Eight decided it wasn't their business to comment.

Finding themself at the gate again, attendance was finally picking up, evidenced by how many guests were passing through the entrance, getting covered in that multicoloured ink. Eight stood aside and watched for a while, until two familiar Inklings strolled on through; one in a Special-Forces Beret, and another in a Golf Visor. Eight had definitely seen them before!

They called out to the couple with a wave. "Greetings!"

Army, in the beret, immediately stood at attention, causing Eight to do the same. Aloha, in the visor, only shook his head and smiled, before saying, "At ease, gentlemen!"
He was kind of used to this.

Both Eight and Army responded, then approached each other and shook hands. "It's nice to see you at a festival, Eight." Army commented.

"This is an event I could not miss." Eight assured their friend.

Aloha put his arm around Army's. "Happy to see you Eight, but we should get moving, Off the Hook's starting in like five or ten minutes!"

Having friends here put Eight's mind at ease, as did hearing that their oldest friends were about to perform onstage. The frustration they felt minutes earlier had already dissolved.
The three of them took off towards the main stage, with Aloha leading the way, as he often did during events such as this. The three of them passed through a tunnel with more of those rainbow ink sprays, and eventually, it led them to a massive concert stage, fashioned to resemble a clam (as far as Eight could piece together), covered in giant screens and light fixtures. An audience was in the process of gathering, with space magnitudes larger than the other stages had. Naturally, Eight and their friends were part of this audience, and within less than a minute of finding a place to stand, the music began, and out came Off the Hook!
Eight knew that beat. That's Nasty Majesty, a favourite of theirs!

They simply stood, as yesterday, with their hands behind their back, and listened, seemingly unaffected by the energy of the crowd, whilst Aloha jumped to the beat and Army became almost as excited.

Finally, friends with whom to enjoy a festival. Maybe this weekend wouldn't be so bad after all.

Chapter 3: Sunday

Summary:

On the last day of the festival, music helps bring clarity.

The previous day had run a little late, in Eight's opinion. They'd had so much fun with their friends that they'd lost track of time- a rarity for them- and had turned in for the night a whole two hours late. This, of course, was not a very pressing matter to most people, especially when on vacation, but it most certainly was to Eight. In a revolutionary decision (to them and nobody else), they'd decided to sleep in an extra two hours in order to balance things out. If Acht were awake at this hour, they'd be stunned, no doubt. But it was still before noon, and thus Acht was, in fact, not awake.

Eight had started the day the same as yesterday; breakfast from a food stall. Seeing as this was the final day of the festival, and seeing as how most attendees were wearing themed t-shirts (part of the ongoing Turf Wars element of the festival, in which Eight had no interest in participating), they chose to pick up a similar themed shirt.
The main merch stalls at the gate were the best option, but Eight still felt a little uneasy because of the poster of their old General plastered upon the first stall...

The General always said 'Nothing ventured, nothing gained', but Eight was certain he'd borrowed that from somewhere.

A group of Inkfish huddled around the first stall on Eight's approach, but with patience, enough of them dispersed that they were able to get a better look at the merchandise.
Before Eight could take their pick, though, they heard a familiar voice; a strained, raspy old man...

"Hey, if it isn't Agent 8! Been a few years, ain't it?"
It was the voice of Craig Cuttlefish, and he was...running the stall? And was in his swim form, despite not swimming?

"Mr. Cuttlefish, sir!" Eight said reflexively and stood at attention, again, by pure instinct.

The dried up squid weakly chuckled. "Still an Octarian, through and through, are yer? Well, I appreciate the gesture, all the same!"

Eight relaxed a little. They knew they didn't have to be so formal with this person in particular, but still had an awkward question to ask.
"Sir, you appear to be...in your swimming form. But you've no need to be, correct?"

"I'm stuck this way after a mission a couple'a years back. I just kinda got used to it already!"

There's clearly more to that story, but Eight elected not to press further. "Well, sir, as long as you're comfortable. May I also ask, have you been manning this stall alone?"

"Nah, ain't no way I could do that! That miserable Octavio was helping me, but he's gone 'n wandered off somewhere. He never did seem all that happy to be here."
After answering, Mr. Cuttlefish looked off to his right, presumably to spot Octavio. A few moments later, his vision snapped back to Eight. "Since yer a former Octarian, you want me to say hi for you?"

Eight shook their head with an uncharacteristic lack of composure. Anyone could see they were nervous after being asked such a question.
"No, sir! That's fine, sir!"

Mr. Cuttlefish stroked his beard with another tentacle, appearing unsure how to respond to that. Eight decided it was time to leave, before their old General returned.
"Well, sir, I have some friends meeting me shortly, so I'll be back later to buy something!" This was a lie, naturally, but Eight's unease was plain on their face, so their mentor let them get away with it.

"All right, kiddo, better get movin'."

With a bow, Eight hastily retreated from the stall, heading back towards the main stage, through the colourful tunnel. On the other side, the massive audience once again gathered before the gargantuan stage, and in a similar repeat of events, Eight had once again not checked the musical act schedule. Well, judging by everyone's reactions, the music was probably starting fairly soon.
In anticipation, and since Eight wasn't with their friends today, they headed to the right, passed by another jellyfish in sunglasses, and up a ramp into a VIP tent. The perfect place to observe music, they thought.
A few minutes later, who should come out but Deep Cut, a trio that took the Splatlands by storm! Eight was less familiar with them, and couldn't name the first song they performed...

Halfway through Deep Cut's performance, Acht had shown up. They took a position next to Eight, just like on the first day.
After the performance...

"So, you seen the old man yet?" Acht asked, very nonchalantly.

"...No."

"This might be your only chance, you know."

"Chance for what?"

Acht waved their hand at Eight, not turning their head. "I guess that's just another thing you forgot. It's probably better this way."

Eight knew that hand signal was meant to convey Acht's discomfort with a subject, and didn't have a followup question.
Whatever songs Deep Cut had just finished performing, Eight enjoyed all of them. They were becoming something of a fan, in fact! A very solid sound, more similar to the Squid Sisters than to Off the Hook.
Truthfully, Eight had even found themself tapping their foot at certain instances. That sort of thing hadn't happened in a while; the last time they remember doing so spontaneously was the first time they heard the Calamari Inkantation, which was now several years ago. This melody brought back very specific memories; the revelation that the world outside of the domes was full of people, people who loved their lives, and the resolve to live amongst them all.
Deep Cut's music did...not elicit feelings that strong, but they could have, potentially, Eight thought. Their imagination raced, picturing hearing one of those pieces instead of the Inkantation, but before long, Eight's little daydream trip was interrupted by a voice.

"Eight! Yo, Eight! You in there?"

Aloha's voice.
Eight snapped back into the now, and it was indeed Aloha, with Army in tow, standing just before the ramp to the VIP tent.
"The Squid Sisters are your favourite, right? You comin' or what?"

Eight turned to Acht, who merely tilted their head slightly with a smirk. That's generally a sign to go ahead, in Acht's personal body language.

With confirmation secured, Eight headed down the ramp to join their friends. "Squid Sisters, you say?"

"Affirmative," Army replied. "They're the next act."

"And they're performing a new song!" Aloha interrupted. "So let's go get a spot close to the stage!"

In the rush to find a good place in the audience, Eight had forgotten to ask about this new idol group debuting, the 'Now or Never Seven'. They were supposed to be performing today, Eight had heard. Although they had heard that several days ago.
Aloha's sudden cry startled Eight, but it was in response to the Squid Sisters appearing on the main stage once again.
Sometimes, they wondered how Army dealt with this guy...
The music began, and thankfully, Eight could hear it over Aloha's hollering. The beat was familiar...was this Calamari Inkantation? Was this a new mix of Calamari Inkantation?!

As the song played on, Eight became transfixed. It was the same feeling they'd experienced the first time they'd heard the song, nine years prior. The world around appeared to fall into silence, almost as if it had disappeared entirely, leaving only Eight and the music. They weren't even certain they were blinking, and this sensation continued on, and on...and on. Time itself stopped, from Eight's perspective.
...At least until the song ended, at any rate. It left Eight in a trance-like state, as it did before.
The applause was positively deafening, but Eight found themself looking back toward the entrance to this stage area, rather than applauding. With ringing ears, they did an about face, and made their way out of the crowd without making eye contact with a single person.

Leaving the sea of revellers, Eight suddenly came crashing back to reality. Every step felt heavier than before, the air felt thick, as though it would be difficult to breathe, and yet it wasn’t, to their bemused surprise.
They kept walking, fighting back against this imagined weight.
In fact, they didn’t even notice being coated in the technicolour ink yet again on the way back to the main hub, but there it was, Mr. Cuttlefish’s merchandise stall…

And this time, General Octavio was present, right there alongside Eight's old mentor.

They continued to march, with clear intent, until...

"General Octavio, sir!" Eight declared, standing at attention, with their trademark perfect posture.

Octavio, a huge, red-pink octopus in glasses and a helmet with an attached headlamp, turned from speaking to Mr. Cuttlefish to face the Octoling who had called out his name.

"Huh, wuzzat? Ah! One of my Octarians! Glad some of you took me up on the weekend vacation!" he said, which was immediately followed by his signature laugh, louder than most of the music being played.

"Sir, yes, sir!"

"Wait a tick, you look kinda familiar. Why, you're...!" before Octavio finished speaking, he launched himself out of the stall and onto the ground in front of Eight, who nervously stepped back, but still maintained their posture...for the most part. Mr. Cuttlefish quickly followed, but only to pick up the things that Octavio had knocked over with that little stunt.
The massive octopus then...patted Eight on the head, with a single tentacle?

"Junior!"

In a way, Eight had always suspected this. Their refusal to change their ink colour, their pride in their military discipline, and the way they stubbornly clung to a heritage they didn't fully understand. But hearing that new Calamari Inkantation had caused them to recall everything about their family...

Eight smiled, almost blushing, and said "Hello, Grandfather."

Mr. Cuttlefish immediately interjected after hearing that. "Grandfather?! Agent 8, I didn't know yer were part of this ol' inkbag's family!"

"Cram it, Craig!" Octavio blurted out. "I haven't seen this kid in years!"

In a move rather unlike Mr. Cuttlefish, he did indeed say no more, only continuing to gather the knocked over items.

Octavio eyed his grandchild up and down. "You ain't exactly got the family freshness, but...where the shell have you been, Junior?"

"Busy, Grandfather. But I've made a life for myself here on the surface. I'm sorry I didn't inform you that I was leaving." Eight was speaking, but was now visibly holding back tears.

Eight's ears were once again filled with that laughter. "You still talk like a stiff, just like your old man! Why don't you try callin' me gramps or something?"

"All right...gramps."

His laugh, again. "That's more like it!"

Their conversation lasted for a little while. Eight recounted what had happened to them after coming to the surface; Octavio swore revenge on this 'Commander Tartar' device, and seemed somewhat disappointed when Eight said it was already destroyed. Eight even told their grandfather about the Memverse, but didn't mention Marina's involvement with it. Nor Marina's involvement with Pearl, for that matter. In turn, Octavio told his grandchild about his latest adventure, in which he went into space and saved the whole world from something called a 'mammal'. Eight felt like there were some holes in that story.
The two of them talked, talked, and talked a bit more, before an announcement rang over the venue's PA system...the Now or Never Seven would be debuting shortly.

"The Now or what now? Never heard of 'em!"

Eight nodded and smiled. "They're brand new, gramps. Two of my friends are even part of the group!"

"In that case, I'm gonna go see 'em with you!" Octavio declared, and began...swimming? Eight wasn't quite sure how to describe the way Octavio moved when not using ink...but he was moving towards that colourful tunnel.

What a weekend this had turned out to be.
Eight gave chase. "Please wait for me!"

Notes:

This is my first ever completed fanfiction, and I'm quite proud of it, despite how short it is.
Huge thanks to my friend Vindextra for beta reading and for his general help and support!