Chapter Text
Their footsteps echoed eerily throughout the complex, reverberating loudly down the darkened halls. The only source of light was from the faint wisps pooling through the windows, just barely able to pierce the murky depths of the water surrounding them. They didn’t know what was keeping the building from cracking under the pressure, but they were thankful for it. Carefully, the Splatoon treks through the underbelly of Alterna, looking out for threats as they steadily approach the patchy distress signal.
One month ago, they defeated Mr. Grizz and his plans to wipe out marinekind. Two weeks ago, Agent Three went missing. Yesterday, they received an emergency transmission from DJ Octavio.
The message… wasn’t pretty.
According to him, he and Three were trapped somewhere deep within Alterna, slowly being infected by that strange fuzzy ooze. He’d found a way to stave off some of the effects, but he couldn’t cure it completely and they were running out of time. He also warned them to be careful. Fuzzied octolings were roaming the halls, and they tended to get aggressive if they didn’t recognize you. It sounded like he wanted to say more, but he decided against it and told them that if they reached her, he would have more information for them.
Marie found it odd that he said ‘her’ and not ‘them’.
She looks down at the tracker in her hands, keeping an eye on the faint ping at the edge of the screen. She was the one leading the charge, Captain by her side armed and ready. Callie and Four were just behind them, and Eight was taking up the rear, pausing from time to time to set up another signal booster. At their base camp back in the canyon, they had a large transceiver hooked up to both a portable generator and Alterna’s main systems, giving them a stable means of communication with the outside world. Cap’n Cuttlefish was keeping an eye on things up there, and in the event that something goes wrong, he would radio their allies for backup. It also had the added bonus of keeping him out of danger.
Everything was quiet. The slow drip of water echoed from somewhere in the distance. Their shoes clicked against the ground, tension rising with each footstep. Any noise they made was magnified by the dead air, dark and foreboding.
Something shifts, scuttles, when they pass by an open hallway.
Instantly, the Captain points their gun into the darkened space, bracing for attack.
.
.
.
Nothing happens.
Slowly, they pull back, keeping an eye on the entrance as they all resume on their path. Not even five minutes later, they hear the sound again, seemingly from all around them.
“Something's following us. Marie, how close are we?” the Captain signs onehandedly, keeping their hero shot at the ready.
“Not too far, but the signal’s faint so it's hard to tell.”
Four jumps as a small clink sounds off to her right, hissing fearfully, “I hate this…”
“Me too…” Callie whispers, white knuckling her roller.
But again, the halls were quiet, completely deserted aside from them.
.
.
.
It’s only when a screw falls from the ceiling does anyone deign to look up.
Crouched among the pipes and ventilation above them was a dark figure, eyes reflecting in the low lighting as a tail flicked out from behind them. As soon as they spot the attention on them, they cower and scuttle away, disappearing behind the mess of machinery scattered this way and that. No one gets a good look at them, but they could tell that something was wrong.
A chill runs over the group.
“Was that…” Four breathes.
“A fuzzified octarian?” Marie finishes, “...Most likely.”
“At least they’re not attacking us?” Callie mumbles nervously.
“That’s what’s worrying me…” Marie grumbles, turning back to her tracker.
They were getting close, but the disquieting atmosphere was getting to all of them. Not to mention the fact that they were starting to hear more and more sounds of movement, along with the occasional smudge of fuzzy ooze in the shape of hand and footprints. Slowly, the fuzzied octarians tailing them start to get bolder, creeping closer and closer as they observe the Splatoon’s progress.
A tentacle here. A flash of a tail there. When one octarian vanished, another appeared, almost seeming to circle them. They no longer looked like people, more akin to the ancient human concept of a “furry”. Muzzles, tails, digitigrade paws and sharp, separated teeth. Their fur patterns weren’t consistent, and neither were their colours. Browns, reds, oranges, blacks. They had many different shades and sizes, but one thing was clear. They moved in a pack, and they were on the hunt.
In one quick motion, one of them lunges forwards and aims a swipe at Eight, missing him by inches and causing him to jolt back. He retaliates by firing a few shots at them, and luckily it causes them to back off with a growl.
“They’re completely feral…” he mutters quietly, voice trembling with emotion.
Unfortunately, the distance doesn’t last for long, and they close in again, intermittently lashing out at the group. Given no other choice, they defend themselves promptly, hitting the few who dared to attack with ink, all the while still trying to move forward. It wasn’t easy however. The circle grows tighter, bunching them in and making movement difficult.
The Captain and Marie share a look.
“We need to get out of here,” Marie states in their stead, “We’re not too far from the DJ’s signal. If we all aim our attacks in my direction, we can break a hole in their circle and escape.”
She gets a scattered burst of acknowledgment.
“On three, ready? One, two, three!”
The four of them release a wave of ink at the octarians, causing them to scatter to avoid being hit. Before the ink even touches the ground, they all start running in that direction, bolting away from the fuzzied troops as fast as they could. It isn’t long before they’re being chased down, claws scrabbling against tile as frustrated growls reverberate through the air.
Through one door, out the other. Down the hall and take a right. All while the howls of frenzied octolings echoed down the corridors, gaining on them.
Dashing into a room filled with crates, the Splatoon slides to a stop before a large metal door, keypad beside it glowing red and locked. The signal was coming from beyond the door, but they were still currently trapped if they couldn’t get it open in time. While Marie tries to quickly hack the lock, the others turn around to fend off their pursuers, waiting with bated breath. But as the infected octolings come into view, something… strange, happens.
The first one’s eyes go wide, and they slide to a stop, just barely entering the room only to immediately turn tail and run. The others follow suit much more successfully, hovering around the precipice as they all gaze at the agents with clear uncertainty. Something about the room caused them to halt in their tracks, but no one had any inclination as to what that something was.
At least it gave them enough time to open the door.
The lock turns green, and all of them step inside, closing the door behind them. They take a moment to catch their breath in this new wing of the facility.
“What… Was that?” Four wheezes, “Why did they stop?”
“Maybe something about this place creeps them out?” Callie suggests.
“Or maybe there’s something more dangerous than them over here,” Eight muses lowly.
This sends a shiver through all of them, and they decide not to prolong that train of thought.
“W– Well! Anyways. Now that that’s over, we’re clear to find Agent Three right?” Callie laughs nervously, rubbing her arm.
Her cousin nods, albeit slowly, “...Right. This way.”
She leads them down the hall, turning a corner before stopping in front of an unassuming door.
“...Is this it?” Four mumbles confusedly, “I thought Three would be trapped somewhere more… trap-like, than this.”
“The emergency signal from her communicator is coming from behind this door, so it has to be,” Marie shrugs, “Callie. Did you bring your lock picks?”
“Yeah, lemme just...”
Before she has a chance to move, the click of a lock rings out, followed by the slow creak of the door opening. Peeking out from inside the room was a small, fuzzy figure, purple eyes staring at them with full clarity.
“Agent Three!”
The five of them pour into the room, overjoyed to see their missing agent once again. She startles a bit from the attention, fur puffing up in waves, but soon enough she relaxes and gently shuts the door, locking it once again.
“Oh my goodness! We’re so glad that you’re– O…kay…” Callie squeals, slowly trailing off as they finally get a good look at her.
She was certainly fuzzy, that’s for sure. Short brown fur with dark spots grew all over her body, and whiskers sprouted from her upper lip. She did not have a tail unlike the other octolings they encountered, and her body wasn’t contorted out of shape like theirs. Her eyes were also normal, sclera white and untainted by the fuzzy ooze.
“...Are you, okay?”
Three remains quiet, turning to the computer at the other side of the room. Now that the rush of adrenaline was over, the Splatoon finally takes notice of their surroundings. At the opposite side of the room was a desk with a huge monitor, connected to a massive server bank and smaller main computer. To the left was another door, a hand drawn map of the facility, and a few large crates with some supplies on top like bottled water and a med kit. The right side of the room had a few lockers and more crates, but other than that it was fairly sparse. While they were all busy looking around, Three crosses the room and wakes up the computer by wiggling the mouse, drawing everyone’s attention. She then double clicks a file on the desktop, and it full screens, playing automatically.
“You all must be… very confused right now.”
“DJ!?”
The Splatoon crowds around the desk in shock, staring at the video before them. Sitting in the chair in front of the desk was a tall, fuzzied octoling wearing traditional clothing. His tentacles went past his shoulders, covered in coarse, dark fur that curled around his neck like a mane. There were markings on his face beneath his eyes, reminiscent of the deep purple eye bags he always sports, and a long tail with a tufted end flicks out from behind him as he speaks, voice coming out more like a growl through his muzzle.
“I’ll try to keep this short. I came here trying to find a cure for my Octarians, and your agent came here looking for scrap to sell so she could afford to eat. I got infected during my research and ran into the kid later. I tried to get her to leave but she wouldn’t, and she got infected shortly afterward.”
He gives a sigh, expression downcast and exhausted.
“There are five stages. The first is rapid fur growth, it spreads all across the body in a matter of minutes, eventually settling down into a more manageable state. It’s not painful, though it is damn itchy…” he grumbles, scratching at his neck.
“The second is ink acidity. You lose the ability to shift between forms or become malleable at all as the ooze converts your ink into more of itself. This takes a few days to fully finish, and it burns the whole way.”
“The third is the most painful. Once your ink has fully converted into the ooze, it starts to create a skeletal structure starting from your beak, warping it in the process. I suspect it would incapacitate most,” he shrugs, “It drastically shifts your form and makes it difficult to walk on two legs. This is also the point where the tail and… everything else comes in.”
He grows quiet for a long time, staring into the distance. When he comes to, his voice is a little… hazy.
“The fourth is memory loss. Animal instinct takes over and you start to… lose yourself. It’s slow, gradual. But bit by bit, time starts to fade, and you find yourself in places you don’t remember going.”
His eyes had a hollow look to them, and his shoulders were slumped.
“I suspect stage five is full transformation, losing your mind completely as you finally succumb to the infection entirely, no more than a wild animal…”
He clears his throat, shaking off the air of despondency, “There is a way to stave off the effects, however. If you inject the liquid from inside a power egg into the inkstream, it’ll eat away at the fuzzy ooze and return it to regular ink. I suspect that a golden egg will be able to reverse the changes entirely, but I’ve been unable to locate any so far and my time is quickly running out.”
He sighs and rubs a hand– paw? –across his face, blinking tiredly a few times, “...I recorded all of my research here on this computer, but it’s all in octarian. Sorry about that.”
He looks to the side, mumbling to himself near inaudibly. The only words anyone can catch are ‘anything else’. After a long moment, he perks up a bit and turns back to the screen, “I could only do so much to boost the frequency of Sumire’s communicator, so I don’t know how long it’ll take or even if it’ll reach you, but if you do find yourselves here listening to this, can you do me a favor?”
He looks into the camera for the first time, almost pleading, “Help my octarians. They didn’t do anything wrong. They’re hurt and scared and they don’t know what’s going on, so please, try not to hold it against them. If you can manage to contact the royal kettle and give them my access code, request to speak to Commander Kai and she’ll hear you out.”
He stills after this brief moment of energy, eyes going glassy. He almost seems to… slump a bit, head tilted to the side as his tail swishes lazily. It takes a concerning amount of time for him to snap out of it, and even then, he was still clearly a bit dazed.
“I… Think that’s it for me,” he drones, “I need to get out of here while she’s still asleep.”
He reaches over to stop the recording, but before he does, he mutters one last thing to the camera, “...Don’t be too harsh on her. She stayed down here because she was worried about me, so it’s my fault she’s in this situation. I’ve bought her as much time as I can. I only hope it’ll be enough.”
The video ends, leaving everyone in the room reeling. Three swivels around in the office chair, turning to the others.
“There’s more,” she mumbles in octarian, staring mostly at Eight, “I don’t know what he said in the video, but that was made a few days ago, and he disappeared right after. I went looking for him, but I couldn’t find him...”
There were tears in her eyes, and her voice was watery. She sniffles and wipes them away, trying to remain composed, “Did I do something wrong? Is that why he left me?”
“No! No. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Eight jumps to reassure her, “He was just trying to protect you, and now we’re here to take over for him. Everything will be okay.”
She still seemed a bit upset, but she nods, kicking her legs quietly in the tall chair.
“We need to establish contact with this Commander Kai and get this place on lock down,” Marie states firmly, “Eight. Can you translate for us?”
He nods, gingerly swapping places with Three, “Yes. I’ll try to stick to what’s important.”
Looking over the desktop, he opens up a folder right next to the video they just watched. Inside were many more recordings and a few pdf’s, “Judging by the dates on these videos, the DJ must have come back here shortly after Mr. Grizz was defeated.”
“Alone? All the way down here?”
The octoling just shrugs, pressing play on the first video.
14022-09-13.mkv
DJ Octavio sits at the desk chair, unfuzzied but no less tired, “The date is September thirteenth, fourteen thousand and twenty two.” –he sighs and rubs his forehead– “There’s not really a point to this recording. Habit, I suppose. But I need to talk out what the shell I’m seeing here, if only to myself.”
“Everyone I’ve come across is covered in that ‘fur’ and completely out of it. I’ve surmised it’s some type of infection caused by what the Squidbeak Splatoon call ‘fuzzy ooze’. I’ve avoided touching the stuff so far, and I seem to be fine, so it doesn’t seem to be airborne. I recall that during the fight up in space, that kid gave golden eggs to their little salmonid friend and it somehow managed to eat the ooze without any adverse effects. There might be some sort of component in the golden eggs that neutralizes the ooze, so that’s one possibility to consider.”
He places a hand on his chin, looking down at the table in thought, “…Curiously, while I have come across some fully infected individuals, they haven't exactly attacked me. Well– I mean– Technically they have, but the moment they hear my voice they stop, even if they don’t understand the words. Perhaps even in their compromised state, they still recognize me as their leader. Whatever the case, it’s kept me safe enough without the octobot so far.”
With a groan, he looks to the side, frown somehow deepening, “I should probably head back to the canyon, but I want to do one last sweep down here to make sure I’m not missing anything. Kai is going to have my head for sneaking off again, but hopefully the urgency of this information will be enough to distract her wrath. I would just send a message to her with all of the attachments, but the signal down here sucks. I’d need a dedicated transceiver to punch through the layers of sediment, and unfortunately that’s one of the things I didn’t fix during that slapdash repair job on the octobot…”
With one final sigh, he gets out of the chair and shuts off the recording.
~~~~~
14022-09-14.mkv
“There have been complications.”
Octavio was now freshly fuzzied, and pissed about it.
“I hit my head on a low hanging pipe like a dumb ass and apparently that was enough to knock it loose, dumping a whole bunch of that crap on me,” he growls, “I had no time to react and that stuff works fast.”
Closing his eyes for a moment, he takes a deep breath, continuing on irritably, “One thing of note from this experience, however, is that while I am covered in fur, I feel exactly the same as I did before this happened. This leads me to believe there are steps in the transformation process. The first is, clearly, the rapid fur growth. More observation is needed to figure out the rest, but that’s a minor task in favor of trying to find a way to cure this, and fast. I can't go back to the canyon like this, I can’t call for help, and I can’t leave my people behind.”
He opens his eyes, and they were hollow, “I’m running on borrowed time. But then again, I always am. What makes this any different?”
~~~~~
14022-09-19.mkv
The room had changed. Crates lined the walls where there once was empty space, a few of them cracked open but unviewable to the static camera. On the desk was a med kit, dusty and yet untouched. The DJ stares at it for a moment before speaking.
“It’s become harder and harder to shift back into swim form,” he drones, “Every time I try, it feels like my ink is burning. I thought that was just another annoyance I had to deal with, but letting myself become malleable enough to collect a few drops of ink quickly proved me wrong.”
With a groan, he crosses his arms and looks away from the med kit, expression troubled, “It had that same sheen to it that the fuzzy ooze does, rainbow and sickly. During my expeditions, I’ve been able to amass quite a stock of power eggs, so I cracked one open and let the liquid inside mix with the ink to see if it would have any effect, and it did. The yolk ate away at the sheen turning it back into what looked like normal ink. A test against skin only alleviated the itching sensation, and while ingestion did suppress the burning sensation for a time, it quickly faded and became useless. I suspect that the only way for the power eggs to have any efficacy is for them to be directly injected into the bloodstream, or even better, the ink layer.”
He closes his eyes, muttering almost inaudibly, “I have the tools. This needs to be tested. I just need to pick. Up. The needle.”
A glare is cast down at the box on the desk, fingers digging into his arms. After a deep breath, he lets go, left hand reaching for the lid–
And then a scream rings out.
Octavio startles, kicking away from the desk as his fur stands on end. He whips around to face the door, slamming a hand on the keyboard in the process.
All goes dark.
.
.
.
And then, light.
Visuals come back onto the sight of the med kit being picked up mid-motion, like the unpause button was accidentally pressed in the haste. The chair was pushed to the side, giving clear view of Three sitting on a large crate, pant leg torn as she quietly cries. She was a bit banged up, but she wasn’t fuzzy, mostly just scared and confused.
Octavio crouches down with the med kit and tends to the cut on her leg, giving her a stern look, “Why the shell are you down here all alone? Is the Splatoon so hard up that they can’t spare one agent to accompany you?”
“I’m not on a mission,” Three sniffles, “They don’t know I’m here.”
The fuzzied octoling pauses, glancing up at her, “Then why are you here?”
She fidgets in place, curling a tentacle around her finger, “This place has a lot of valuable scrap, I can’t afford to let anyone else get to it. If I just work hard enough I might be able to sell enough so I can go home.”
“…Is Splatsville not your home?”
She shakes her head, “Octo Canyon is.”
The DJ looked surprised, but before he has the chance to open his mouth she continues, “I didn’t mean to leave! I fell asleep at work and got shipped out with a delivery, but the convoy got hit by a waterspout over the ocean and it crashed in the Splatlands. I’ve been working really hard to get back home but… it’s not very easy…”
An expression of concern crosses Octavio’s face, only to be brushed off as he resumes bandaging her leg, “After you’ve rested for a bit, I’m taking you back to the surface.”
“What! No!” she protests, nearly kicking him in the face on accident, “I can’t leave you down here all alone! You’ve been fuzzied!”
“And I’m working on fixing it,” he counters, “You need to get out of here while you’re still safe.”
“But I can help! Bud can eat the fuzzballs which will clear up the ooze!”
“NO,” Octavio barks, shutting her down, “I’m not letting a child wander around down here on her own. You will go back to the surface before you get yourself into trouble.”
“And I’m not letting an old man wander around down here on his own,” she parrots, “You’re the one who’s in trouble, so let me help!”
He growls in exasperation, “I can handle it on my own.”
“But it’s hard,” she frowns, staring right into his eyes, “It’s hard doing everything on your own. I’ve been alone my whole life and it’s only when I met Bud and the others did things get a little easier. Don’t you want it to be easier? Aren’t you tired?”
He freezes for a long moment.
“…You’re very stubborn,” he sighs.
“Does that mean you’ll let me help?”
“On one condition,” he stresses, “You have to listen to me. No wandering off. No jumping into things. And no taking needless risks. Got it?”
“Got it.”
And with that, he closes the med kit and stands up, returning it to the desk.
The recording hits the time limit and shuts off seconds after.
~~~~~
14022-09-21.mkv
The lights in the room were off, making the only source of illumination the computer. The DJ was sitting in the chair, looking to the side with a dismayed expression on his face.
“The kid got infected,” he drones, voice barely more than a whisper, “It was an accident. It wasn’t her fault, but I… I yelled at her.”
He sighs, shoulders drooping, “I was angry at myself more than anything, for letting it happen, but still I… I made her cry. She’s sleeping right now, but she hasn’t said a word since then.”
He buries his face in his hands, leaning against the table, “Cod– This is why I don’t let people get close to me. Nothing good ever comes out of it. All I do is hurt people. I couldn’t keep my subjects happy. I couldn’t keep her safe. I couldn’t keep him from leav–”
He cuts himself off, taking a shaky breath.
“…I have to test the power egg theory,” he mumbles numbly, “I’ll do it tomorrow.”
He keeps a hand over his eyes as he stops the recording.
~~~~~
14022-09-23.mkv
“Kid, are you sure about this.”
“We have to test it, don’t we? And last time you passed out, so I have to do it.”
Three was sitting in the office chair, Bud beside her with the needle while Octavio hovered behind them worriedly.
“I just got a little lightheaded,” he grumbles, glancing away.
“It’s okay to be scared of needles.”
“I’m not scared!” he snaps, a little too quickly.
“Your hands are shaking.”
Octavio freezes and then crosses his arms, fully turning away with palpable irritation. Bud tilts his head at the octoling, and then says something in Salmonish, which Octavio shoots back to in the same language. He then skulks over to the other side of the room and sits down on top of on one of the smaller crates with a huff. The salmonid says something else to Three, who nods and holds her arm out. Carefully, the small fish injects the power egg solution into her veins, and then they wait. There is no physical change, but her shoulders lose a bit of tension after a few minutes.
“It’s working!” Three chirps happily, “The burning is going away.”
“That’s a relief,” Octavio groans, thunking his head against the wall, “Now we’re getting somewhere.”
He gets up off the crate, making his way towards the desk once more, “Do you feel anything else?”
“Not really. The fur is still itchy.”
He grumbles in annoyance, placing a hand on his chin in that signature cross armed pose, “…We might need to increase the dosage then. And if that fails, locate some golden eggs instead.”
“There has to be some down here somewhere. Mr. Grizz was using them to power up his rocket after all,” she hums, “Maybe we should go on another expedition.”
“Tomorrow. You need to rest,” he huffs.
“Only if you do too.”
He rolls his eyes.
~~~~~
14022-09-26.mkv
The DJ writes something on a makeshift map taped to the wall, hands shaking. He looked much less octoling now and more… lion, but not as much as the first video. More like a… halfway point. “…That was a bust… and so was that path… Maybe to the west this time?” he mutters under his breath, marking off points here and there.
The closet opens, Three padding out blearily, “…Are you going out again?”
“Yes. We need those golden eggs.”
“But you're hurting,” she protests, coming up to him, “And you're not resting. Please. Go to bed. We can go out again in the morning.”
“No. You need to stay here,” he counters, not even looking at her, “We don't know if repeat exposure will worsen your symptoms or not. It's safer for you to remain here while I go out looking for the golden eggs.”
“But what about you!” she whines, grabbing onto his arm tightly, “I've seen you wincing when you move, and you can't take the power eggs due to your phobia. You got infected way before me, and you're pushing yourself too hard! You need to take a break.”
“I need to keep you safe,” he hisses, glaring down at her, “It doesn't matter what happens to me. If I can save at least one of my subjects from this, then that’s what I'll do."
“But–”
“No buts. You promised you would listen to me, and I'm telling you to stay here,” he growls with finality.
She frowns, looking crushed, “Okay…”
He softens a bit, tentatively patting her tentacles, “…Go back to sleep, Sumire. I’ll fix this. Just trust me.”
With a small nod, she heads back to the closet, closing the door softly behind her. Octavio rubs a hand across his face, that tremble in his hands building into a full body shake. Biting down a whimper of pain, he grabs a bag of supplies and heads off.
~~~~~
14022-09-28.mkv
“I believe I’ve finished the third stage of the process.”
Octavio sits in the office chair, feline ears flattened with frustration. His tail swishes behind him, barely visible in the darkness.
“The… agony has faded away, and I look like… this. Sumire seems to still be at the beginning of stage two thanks to the injections. It does give me some hope for her recovery but…” –he glances to the side– “…I’ve been noticing that my mind has been… slipping, lately. Losing track of time. And not like it usually happens. There is no distance from myself, no foggy recollections or dulling of the senses. One moment I’m here… the next I’m not. It’s… concerning, and I don’t know what to do about it.”
For the first time, there was fear in his eyes.
“I’ve taken Sumire’s communicator and been using the computer parts I’ve been scavenging from my excursions, plus my tablet, to boot the signal and try to contact the emergency lines, though it’s been rather difficult. Paws aren’t exactly the most dexterous appendages, but I’ve been managing,” he sighs, flexing his fingers a bit, “The frequency is patchy at best, static more often than not. I’m not even sure if anyone is listening, to be honest, but it’s her only shot. I just need to keep trying.”
He looks over to the closet, expression falling, “…I should try the lower levels next. Break past that rubble blocking the staircase now that I don’t feel like I’m on fire all the time.”
His voice dips lower and lower, almost to a whisper, “…Please let this work. I can’t fail them again.”
~~~~~
14022-10-02.mkv
“Is this working?”
Three, or rather, Sumire, sits at the desk like Octavio usually does, the older octoling nowhere in sight.
“I think it is. Ok so! Um,” –she sits up straighter in the chair, trying to look professional– “I’m doing the wrap up for today because Lord Takowasa… can’t.”
She glances over to the closet, “…He’s been acting kind of weird lately. Spacing out a lot and getting kind of clingy? He’s not aggressive like the other infected octarians, but he wont let me leave the safe room when the animal brain takes over.”
“Maybe he sees me as his cub?” she shrugs, turning back to the camera, “I dunno, but he’s not dangerous. More like… protective.”
The closet door creaks, slowly pushing open. A large, dark shape emerges with a low growl, padding into the light from the monitor on all fours. He bumps into her chair with his snout, chuffing sadly with a huff.
“It’s okay. I’ll go to bed in a bit,” she hums, patting him on the head.
He rumbles a bit and nuzzles into her side, ears flicking.
“See? He’s all lion right now.”
She frowns, ruffling his mane, “…I’m worried that he’s running out of time. He’s been using all of our resources on keeping me safe, going out on expeditions by himself and coming back exhausted. He doesn’t really like to sleep, and I know he’s been skipping out on rations. Him losing to the infection isn’t good but… at least when he’s like this, he rests.”
She sighs, expression falling, “I think this is all I can do for him until help arrives.”
~~~~~
14022-10-05.mkv
Octavio sits in front of the camera once again, head in his arms as he slouches against the desk. His fur was starting to mat, and his sleeves were fraying at the ends, small tears and stains in what was once rather fancy clothing.
He looked tired.
“I’ve been losing track of time more and more lately,” he mutters quietly, ears drooped, “So much so that I can barely even remember what happened these past few days.”
He sighs, gaze drifting to the side, “I’m… not sure how, but the transmitter has been finished, even though I have no recollection of working on it. I don't have time to check it over to make sure I haven't fucked up something during one of those blank spells. I can barely remain lucid enough as it is to record this report.”
“...Report. Who am I kidding?” he scoffs, slumping even more, “No one is going to watch this. I’m just talking to myself like a crazy old man.”
He falls quiet for a long, long time, a haunted look in his eyes.
“...I don't like how familiar this is. Swallowing down the pain, floating in a sea of static as time moves without me. Back then, I at least had him to reel me back in when I was drowning,” the octoling muses sadly, “...I still don't understand why he let me live. Why he didn't just leave me to bleed out like he left me before. Maybe it was pity. Maybe it was tactics. Maybe he still…” he trails off, eyes going misty.
It takes him a hot minute to compose himself, wiping away the unshed tears with a stubborn huff, “...I need to contact Octaria, and if that fails, try on the Splatoon’s frequency. Preferably before I become… dangerous. If I can work through this brain fog, then I should be able to get my research in order and set things up to give Sumire the best chances of survival. I only hope that once it's done, I can keep it together long enough to get as far away from her as possible.”
The room was deadly silent.
“...We need to contact this Commander Kai.” Marie states after a few moments, “Eight. Find this access code the DJ was talking about earlier. I’ll get Gramps on the line so we can broaden the transmitter frequencies.”
“On it.”
“Captain. You, Callie, and Four do a sweep of the area and then establish a route out. We’re going to need to get this place on lock down before anyone else comes down here.”
They nod.
“...And the DJ?” Callie prompts.
“Keep an eye out for him, I guess. If you find him, tell us, but don't engage. He's bound to be far more dangerous than the other octolings we’ve encountered so far. We’re going to need more supplies and manpower in order to subdue and contain him.”
“Subdue? He's scared, Marie.”
“And that makes him a threat,” the idol shoots back, “We have no way of predicting what he'll do like this, so the best course of action is to be extremely cautious and get backup. We can't risk any injuries right now, or worse, infections.”
Callie doesn't seem all too pleased… but she drops it. For now.
“Three. Go with them. Take that map and be their guide.”
The girl nods after a brief translation from Eight. She still looked rather unhappy, but hopefully this chance to help will cheer her up a bit.
“And hurry. I don't know how much time we have to work with.”
The darkness seems to grow deeper as they trek onward. Darker. Omnipresent, even. Their only solace was the map Three held, guiding them dutifully towards an elevator that the DJ circled in red. A note indicated that there was a set of stairs as well, but it was blocked off by rubble that he couldn't remove on his own. If the integrity of the stairwell was intact, they should be able to clear out the blockage and have a direct path up to the surface. Or at least, they hoped so.
Luckily, they haven’t come across any infected octarians so far, but that doesn’t make it any less nerve wracking. Cracked pipes hiss steam, small puddles of fuzzy ooze scattered here and there. Odd noises came from the vents, small scratching sounds and reverberating growls. It was hard to tell if they were being followed or not, but it certainly felt like it.
“I hate this place,” Four grumbles, shivering, “So creepy…”
Callie shares that sentiment with an unnerved whimper. She didn't do well in the dark.
The four of them push open a large metal door, hinges creaking loudly from the strain. It opens up into a rather spacious reception area, with two hallways branching off from each side. The one on the left by the stairwell was completely blocked up, but the one on the right by the reception desk was clear of debris.
The same couldn't be said for the floor, however.
Torn up seating and smashed tables littered the ground, broken shards of pottery and glass gleaming dangerously. Their footsteps crunch loudly as they make their way inside, heading towards the two elevators stationed on the far wall. One of them was intact, while the other was very badly dented, the doors almost caving completely inwards. Callie all but runs towards them, spamming the buttons until the lights inside them flicker on.
"You're not supposed to rush ahead, Cal," Four complains, also rushing ahead.
"I don't want to be here any longer than I have to," the pink idol huffs.
With a soft ding, the cracked floor display above the intact elevator lights up, ever so slowly starting to tick down.
"There we go. Now we just have to clear out that staircase."
Three folds up the map and slips it into her pocket while Four tries her best to peek past the rubble. It was pretty thoroughly blocked, but the doorframe didn't seem to be too badly damaged, so there was a bit of hope that with enough time and some power tools, they'd be able to shore it up and have a second form of egress. They most likely won't be able to clear it out all the way with just their hands, but they could at least try.
Bit by bit, they start tossing aside small rocks, and then medium stones, and then working together to shift large chunks of rubble. Most everything gets tossed into a corner, the bigger pieces placed along the wall in precarious stacks. It was quite a noisy affair, with Four almost cursing up a storm when she pinches her fingers, and it would not go unnoticed.
Stone dust puffs into the air. The Captain sneezes like a clash blaster. Three trips and falls into the single pile of dirt in the room…
…And a shuffling, scraping sound comes from somewhere behind them.
“...Did you guys hear something?” Callie asks, pausing.
“Hear what?”
“I don’t know, it kinda sounded like–”
A low growl rumbles through the air.
“–Movement.”
The four turn, to the darkened side of the room, to the reception desk.
To what was behind it.
A large shapes rises from the shadows, a hulking mass of shaggy, brown fur. It slowly pads out into the light with staggered, loping steps, snuffling and grunting. There were large torn gashes in its fur, revealing sickeningly vibrant wounds in its loose and flabby skin, filled to the brim with fuzzy ooze. Rounded ears. Humped shoulders. Spit dribbling down from a gaping, panting maw. Its beady little eyes locks sights on them, cloudy and unfocused.
Mr. Grizz stands up on his hind legs, nearly brushing the ceiling, and roars.
The Agents yelp in terror, flicking out their weapons. Callie just barely has enough time to raise her roller before Grizz charges, biting down with a sickening crunch on the weapon. It bends and warps beneath his fangs, rendering it not much more than a pile of scrap metal. It does stall him however, granting Four enough time to slip around his side and blast him in the eyes with ink, temporarily blinding him. He lets go with an irritated huff, shaking his head to dispell the ink.
He didn't seem at all cognizant, just enraged.
Three scuttles away from the fight with a frightened chirp as the others surround him, fur standing on end. Out of the four of them, she was the only one who was unarmed.
The Captain strafes to the left, Four to the right, the two of them circling the bear to split up his attention. By the time he regains his sight, Callie had retreated to safe distance, wielding her roller like a bludgeoning weapon. A lunge for Four gets him a barrage of ink into an oozy wound, causing him to howl in pain. He was in a near frenzy now, slashing and snapping his jaws at anything that moved, unable to pick a single target.
Distantly, a rattling thump starts to echo from down the hall, but no one is able to hear it over the sound of Grizz's fury.
Quietly, Three creeps over to the open door, trembling. She watches in mute horror as Grizz suddenly charges, bodily slamming the Captain into the wall. They go completely limp and drop their weapon when he backs up, all of the air squeezed out of them like an accordion. Callie smashes her roller into his side in retaliation, jabbing it deeply into one of those wounds, only to be met with a swift swipe to the chest, scoring a large gash into her hero suit. Four tries her best to buy them time to recover… but he was already on the move, lumbering quickly towards the next closest body.
The thumping grows louder and louder as Three shrieks, scrabbling backwards with pure terror. Grizz lunges for her, razor sharp fangs glistening in the low light as his jaw opens impossibly wide, rearing for her head…
…And then a loud clattering rings out, followed by the swift wind of something leaping over Three to barrel into the bear, scrabbling at his eyes.
Grizz roars in pain, rearing up on his hind legs to try and shake it off, but it holds on stubbornly. It buries its jaw into the scruff of his neck, clinging to his back with a muffled growl as it claws gouges into his shoulders and face. It's only when he stumbles backwards and falls does it let go, scampering away to avoid being crushed.
Large paws tap lightly against the tile, tufted tail swishing slowly. It circles Grizz, baring its fangs with a low, angry growl. It was difficult to tell the colour of its fur due to the discoloured and torn haori it wears, but the shaggy mass of dark brown hair framing its face stands out prominently.
It was a lion. A very familiar looking lion.
Grizz stumbles back onto his feet, oil-like blood dripping from face incessantly. He huffs for air, bellowing with rage as he lunges for the lion, the two of them entering a delicate and deadly dance.
While they're distracted with each other, Four sneaks her way over to the Captain and hoists them onto her back, snatching up their gun in the process. Callie does much the same, practically army crawling over to the hall and leaving her wrecked roller behind. Three is the only one who doesn't move, curled into a tight ball on the ground as she stares at the battle happening mere feet away, tears soaking into her fur.
The lion, DJ, was much faster than Grizz, darting around the room with nimble feints. He's able to get some good swipes here and there, but piercing the bear's thick hide proves to be a challenge. Grizz, while slower, was much stronger than the DJ, smashing the already splintered furniture into smithereens with every failed slash. The two of them seem to be at an impasse… up until the DJ makes a daring leap onto the reception desk and then onto Grizz once more, burying his jaw deep into the bear's shoulder. Grizz was none too happy about this, thrashing around violently in a blind rage.
They stumble around the room, careening into this and that with impudence, up until Grizz finally manages to rid himself of his sharp pest with a sudden slam into those dented elevator doors. They shudder violently, curving in even more, and the DJ drops like a rock, too stunned to react to what happens next.
Grizz slams down on his side with a sickening crunch, following it up with a harsh headbutt to the stomach. Whatever pained sound he makes is muffled by the awful screech of aged metal giving way, sending the two of them careening into the heavily damaged elevator. Grizz hardly seemed to care, much more focused on burying his maw into the lion's mane, trying his best to rip out the man's jugular despite all of the hair in the way. The carriage shudders and rattles, a warning creak emanating loudly from it, but it was already too late.
The teething tracks give way, unable to bear the abuse and weight any longer. One second they were there, the next they were gone, a distant, rumbling crash growing quieter and quieter as time stretches on.
One…
Two…
Three…
Four…
* KR-SHOOOM*
The four of them look on in horror.
…And then the other elevator dings, doors happily sliding open.