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The drop from the outpost was intimidating. It always made 4 feel queasy, like she ate too much at the Crust Bucket, or like she was carrying the rainmaker during overtime. The drop was far, and while she’d respawn if she slipped up, it still hurt, and so Marie always told her to stay away.
She did, of course. 4 was a good agent, at least she thinks so, and if Marie told her to do something, she did it. Marie told her to run a kettle, she’d do it in record time. Marie told her to rescue Callie (a request asked a hundred times over) she would do so with a grin. Marie told her to go home,to take a break, she would, happy to do as her mentor said, no matter what her dulled tentacles gave away.
… She was a good agent.
That’s why Marie gave her such an important assignment, obviously. She could have given anybody this mission, like 3, or 8, the shining stars of the NSS, but she gave it to 4. She trusted 4, with this. With keeping Octo Canyon (and inkopolis at large, really) safe. She wasn’t about to let her down. She couldn’t let her down. She was just as good an agent as 3 and 8 were, she just had to prove it. 4 could do everything they could, could clear a kettle just as fast, learn a weapon faster, she could be relied on. Marie could trust her!..
… Until Octavio escaped.
So much for dependable. 4 sighs at the thought, smacking her palm against her forehead. One job, one simple job, and she screwed it up, big time.
It could be worse, she supposes. She could be hypnotized right now. Small victories.
Of course, as soon as she found out, she tried to contact Marie. She hadn’t answered her calls before, but she was sure she would answer this time,
right?
So she tried to call Marie.
Then she tried Callie.
Then Cuttlefish.
Then 3.
Then 8.
… If any octarians saw her chucking the shattered remains of her headset into the depths of Cephalon HQ, they didn’t have the courage to ask.
4 winces, tucking her legs in away from the rain. It doesn’t hurt- not really, but it’s not pleasant. The pitter patter makes her head swim, a headache forming at the back of her mantle from the overstimulation. She’s cold, wet, her head hurts, and she’s alone.
She’s alone. She hadn’t noticed how lonely she was until Octavio escaped, taking her only company with him. It’s not like she liked the guy, but he talked to her, and tolerated her antics, and maybe she thought they were friendly.
Maybe she was too much. Too much and not enough. Maybe,
Maybe he left because of her.
Maybe they all did.
She was a good kid. She tried to be. She did everything that was asked of her, and more. She was fun, she was likeable, and sure, maybe she was loud and maybe obnoxious at times but- she never asked for anything.
So why did they leave her behind?
Why didn’t anything seem to go right?
It’s been ten months since she’s last seen any of the others. Eight since she heard from them. Three since Octavio escaped.
Marie promised her, she said they’d be back soon, only a couple months she said. ‘It’s a vital mission’, she told her, ‘I trust you to do it’. Marie wouldn’t lie to her. She wouldn’t. Marie trusted her, trusted 4 to keep watch.
Was she testing her, or did they just want to get rid of her? Regardless, she failed. Octavio escaped under her watch, and now there’s nothing left to guard, no danger to watch for.
She was no agent. She was a quick stand-in, a desperate replacement Marie couldn’t shake when she didn’t need her anymore. What she could do 3 and 8 could do better, cleaner. 4 was faster, maybe, but it made her messy, clumsy. She never came back uninjured. A liability. She was sloppy, untrained (3 said so herself).
She didn’t fit. 3 was the first, the original. She was always going to be Callie and Marie’s number one, she was basically the third cousin. And 8 was..
Everyone likes 8. Infinitely talented and kind, beautiful and strong 8. Flawless. Unparalleled. She’s perfect. So damn perfect-
4 grimaces, uncurling her fists and wiping the blood from fresh crescent shaped cuts onto her shorts. She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t a little jealous (they wouldn’t have left 8 like this).
Everyone likes 8, but clearly, they don’t like 4. No one needs 4, 4’s expendable, a bother, a has been-
4 wipes away an eyeful of tears, choking back a sob. She’s mad, she thinks, but at who? Her friends who abandoned her here, or herself for not realizing sooner?
The rain falls heavy around her, the chill of the October winds biting her through her hero hoodie. She shivers, but looks up to stare across the outpost, past the grate to the square.
Towards the ledge, and the tall, tall drop behind it. The one Marie always
told her to stay away from. (She mentioned something about the respawns going inactive once they left, 4 remembers vaguely. Maybe they didn’t want to waste the energy on her.)
She was a good agent.
..But Marie wouldn’t care about one broken rule, right?
Slowly, 4 stands on her shaking legs, wincing as her limbs ache and burn.
She steps out from under the cover of the cabin, the rain quickly soaking through her damp coat again. But that’s not important. 4 took her missions very seriously, and this was an important mission indeed. She stumbles through the courtyard, her footsteps the only sound aside from the wind and the downpour. She almost trips over the grate, but makes it to the ledge nonetheless.
She all but collapses, trembling as she leans on the half wall in front of her, little shards of glass digging into her knees. It stings, but it’s far from the worst pain she’s ever felt. Wincing, she pulls herself up, climbing onto the wall with only a bit of difficulty. The stone was never the stablest to begin with, and the rain certainly wasn’t helping, but she manages to stand anyway. The wind blows through her, pushing her forwards.
4 looks up, forcing her eyes to open. She didn’t have much to say about Tentakeel outpost, scrappy as it is, but the view was nice. It was far from the city, so the stars were usually plentiful and bright, at least when you were in the upper sectors. They weren’t now, as overcast as it was, but the thought of them being there was enough. faintly, she could remember late nights spent on the other side of the outpost, watching the fireworks from the Splatfest. How everyone would huddle up outside of Cuttlefish Cabin after the fest ended, and watch crappy movies recorded on VHS. If she focused, she could replace the chill of the fall wind with the warmth of a cramped cabin, tucked in between Callie and Marie, watching a cheesy drama with her friends- no, her family.
She spent so long here, laughing along and letting herself get comfortable, with people who probably only saw her as a means to an end, as filler. It’s almost her fault- no, it is, for letting her guard down and getting attached, getting needy. It was always going to end this way.
Cod.
She really is stupid, isn’t she?
The rain continues to pour, uncaring of her plight. It stings, like needles on her skin, but it’s not enough to splat her, and so she doesn’t mind. She leans forward, staring into the murky depths of the canyon, the dark magenta waves crashing against the rocks far below. It has to be a mile down, at least. Maybe farther. She’s fallen into water before, almost every inkfish has at least once, but the lake at the bottom of Octo Canyon was different. She slipped in once or twice, and it felt like agony, acid eating away at her skin, fire swallowing her whole, it hurt so terribly bad she never risked taking the octarian tech around the sector again, opting to just super jump to the kettles to avoid falling in again. The idea alone was terrifying.
Now though, it felt almost inviting. She probably shouldn’t feel that way, that probably wasn’t good, right? She leans forwards, the old concrete wall crumbling under her feet, debris falling away. Would it hurt more, now that there was no respawn point to coddle her? Is that how that worked? What would happen if they came back, just to find the outpost empty and her gear washed up in Cephalon HQ? Would they be sad? Would they grieve her? Why would they grieve her? Maybe they’d be mad, disappointed, that she abandoned her post and gave up. What if they never came back, never bothered, and never knew what happened to her? Which option did she prefer?
The shattered remains of the snow globe dig into her back as she falls backwards into the dirt, mud clinging to her clothes. Her head stings, from a headache or the impact she doesn’t know. Or care, really.
She.. can’t. Can’t follow through with it. Maybe she just doesn’t have what it takes, it wouldn’t be the first time. Even if she did, it’s not like she can just.. Leave the canyon unguarded. That’s her one job. Her mission. Even though she wasn’t the best agent, she could still do this. She could still be useful, for once, right?
Still, it’s a nice idea. Just an idea, of course.
She sits up, ignoring how her body aches in protest. There’s still work to be done, after all. Can’t sit around waiting for her body to catch up. With a wince, she pulls herself to her feet, forcing her legs to carry her back to the cabin. Work, right. That’s what she has to do. That’s what good agents do.
She’s a good agent.