A knock sounded on the door of her lab. Likely an officer, she thought with a detached curiosity. Marina didn't move to open it. I gave my orders. Three days ago, after parading around the Domes giving reassuring speeches, she issued orders that she was not to be disturbed until she next exited her lab. Officially, she was deep in the revision process, working around the clock to restore the Octostomp.

In reality, Marina just needed space. Space to get herself in order. She was a mess; the Head Engineer couldn't be a mess. She needed to pull herself together. There were responsibilities she had to fulfill. Though no matter how much she tried, how hard she stared at the plans or how long she forced herself to sit and work, motivation wouldn't come to her.

Why am I still fighting it? She idly wondered. This is my purpose, this is why I'm here. Why do I hate it so much?

This role was killing her. She could feel it ripping piece after piece away from her soul. Every waking moment of her time, every single stray thought in her mind. She starved herself over projects she had no choice but to obsess and utterly infatuate herself with. And now, her only friend, the only remaining link to the person she once was, had left her. Just another sacrifice to the pedestal she was forced to stand atop.

Was it even worth caring about anything anymore?

Another knock sounded at her door, just as polite as the first. It also went ignored. Marina rolled her chair over to her desk, where all of the Octostomp's blueprints were stacked on the edge. They hurt to look at. The barren wall mocked her with faint dusty outlines of where the blueprints once sat. All that time... wasted. It almost felt like the past three years had been entirely thrown away. The sheer deluge of emotions from the Octostomp's failure haunted her. The distant numbness she felt now only seemed quieter when compared to that torrent.

She tore her eyes from the blueprints for the thousandth time that day. Her pager was the only other thing on her desk. It's dark, blocky shape only stood out more in the dim lamplight shining down on the desk. It hadn't so much as buzzed since she'd set it there, three days ago. Marina didn't need to pick it up to see what was on the screen. Three separate apologies sent to Ahato, all of which had gone unanswered. I ruined that too, didn't I?

She examined the events of that day again with the same detached, emotionless analysis. In the span of maybe six minutes, she made the worst possible mistake at each turn. Marina depersonalized her. She got so caught up in the moment she stripped Ahato down to her rank. She stole her headphones, one of the few items Ahato actually treasured, and then lost them in the building's collapse.

A third series of knocks pestered themselves against the door. Marina groaned, rolling her chair slightly backwards to lay her forehead down against the desk. The project is rusted. The entire thing's scrapped. There's no way to salvage it without fundamentally changing how it works. The attacks were too telegraphed. The AI could be tricked too easily. It couldn't discriminate between friend or foe. It would be just as much a danger to their army as any opposition's. Her hands folded on top of her head as she ran her mind in circles trying to escape the hell she was trapped in. How do I tell Materials that 2/3rds of the scrap they sent me are unrecoverable? How do I tell the engineers that worked on it that the last two years of work are now pointless? How do I tell the generals they're no longer getting their super weapon?

Her claws dug into her mantle. How do I tell Octavio that I failed?

Her hands clenched and pushed down on her head in frustration. The distinct creak of her lab door swinging open was the coral that snapped the crab's claw. She shot out of her chair, sending it rolling backwards and turned on the intruder.

"Whoever thought it best to ignore my orders is going to--" The words died in her throat as her visitor stepped inside.

"Head Engineer." The casual tone of his voice was undermined by its deep, rumbling sound. "Apologies for pushing my way in, but I believe... we need to talk."

"Ahh--" Marina swallowed, her throat suddenly very dry. "General Octavio, sir!" She squeaked, saluting while automatically snapping into a rigid, formal salute.

The general stared down at her from the edge of her lab. His large, purple-ringed green eyes bore into her from underneath a large, ornamental headpiece. Draped around his body was the tie string for a large, ornate cape that covered him completely from behind. Injuries from the war 100 years ago left Octavio seemingly permanently stuck in his swim form, which left no proper way for him to adorn the traditional robes he would otherwise be wearing. The cape was the compromise, serving to continue the ancient tradition while also not hampering his limbs.

Four of his tentacles acted as legs, propping him up and allowing him to walk around like normal. Two more tentacles were crossed across his chest, acting as his arms. A large, X-shaped bright green scar covered nearly the entire right arm. The last two arms were held somewhere behind his back, obscured from her view. His mere presence made her feel small, to say nothing of the expectations gleaming in his eyes.

Marina took advantage of the silence to collect herself. "Sir!" Marina tried again, her voice much more confident. "With all due respect, now isn't the best time for a meeting. I'm deep in the process of redesigning the--"

He held up a tentacle to silence her. "That's enough, Engineer." Marina's mouth clicked shut. Octavio continued, "You and I both know the Octostomp project is unsalvageable. Poor planning, design, and execution played just as much of a factor in its failure as the inkling did."

Marina felt a white-hot flash of rage. Let's see you recover some scrappy 100 year old blueprints then! Lets see you develop a targeting AI unlike literally anything else down here! Or melt down buildings and re-alloy their metal to make it light enough to jump! Maybe you can figure out how to keep the inkling from just running away next time! Despite her instincts urging her to lay into her commander, Marina dropped to one knee, and began apologizing profusely.

"Stop." Octavio commanded almost instantly. "If I wanted you to grovel, I'd have brought you to my office."

Marina stood back up, paying extra attention to keeping her face neutral. Glaring at the general would only make things worse. "Forgive my bluntness sir, but why are you here then, if not to reprimand me for my failure?"

Octavio sighed, closing his eyes for just a moment. "What's done is done, Engineer. There's still more that needs doing." He shifted around, glancing through the various projects left for dead on the counters. "You weren't actually in that fight. In fact, Members of my personal team have confirmed that your octoshot never left your room that day."

Marina's anger evaporated, dread pouring into her body to replace it. Is that it then? "Sir?"

"I know you, Ida." He held up one of her abandoned projects-- a pair of dark shades that were designed to help her manage her role-- and inspected them as he spoke. "You play your part well. You weren't fighting, but you were doing something." The shades were set delicately back on the counter as Octavio turned to meet her eyes. "Tell me Head Engineer Marina Ida, what do you have for me?"

Part of her wanted to just clam up. Say nothing. Let the project fail and bear the consequences and then just, tough out the rest of her miserable life in silence.

But this was also the chance for the Head Engineer to one-up the inklings. To not only take revenge, but to off-foot them even further. This was her chance to land the first official blow to the inklings in over 100 years.

"I can track the inkling's radio signal." Marina explained, her voice level.

"Elaborate," Octavio demanded.

"Using the Octostomp's radio data, I was able to analyze and record several different frequencies the inkling's radio signal modulated through. It was simply a matter of busting the algorithm. I can figure out when it's going to change, and what frequency it will change to."

"You're sure it was the inklings?"

"Confirmed it myself sir, I heard an old sounding voice speaking in inkling over the channel."

Octavio was silent for several long seconds. "Good. Very good." He pulled open the door with one of his tentacles. "You will be sent for in a few hours. I trust that will be enough time to pull yourself together."

What? Marina sucked in a deep breath. "But sir, the Octostomp--"

"I'll ensure the project wraps up cleanly," Octavio explained as he walked out of the door. He paused in the doorway, turning back to her. "Oh, and Engineer?"

"Sir?"

"Please thank your friend for me." Octavio held out one of his back tentacles. Ahato's headphones were held delicately within its grasp, proffered for Marina to take. "Without her help, we'd be without our Head Engineer."

Marina deftly took the headphones in her own hands. Octavio turned and walked out without another word.

Quinn yawned as he finished getting dressed, working through his morning routine with little regard for speed. It was only 9:30 in the morning, and The Captain wasn't expecting him until noon or so. He was right at the end of a small vacation of sorts. Agent work had been light, so light he had an extra day off yesterday, all because The Captain wanted him well rested for their plans today.

So Quinn did just that. He grabbed a pack of Pop-Tarts and flopped onto his new couch. His TV was still on its dinky little stand, but that was more than alright for now. Just yesterday he was finally promoted into S-rank, and the higher payouts that came with it. The Captain regularly sent him home with food too, so he was making and saving more money than he could have ever hoped. There was a cushion in his account now, enough that he could afford to take mornings off if he wanted; though turf did make for a good warmup sometimes.

He flicked through the channels, pausing briefly to watch the members of Hightide Era - the current temporary news hosts - banter about the day's stages, before moving to something different. Eventually, he settled on some documentary about the history of Bluefin Depot. He watched with a lazy gaze, his mind wandering freely as he lounged.

A little while back, maybe a month or so, he had been preparing to do some matches at Bluefin when the members of Screenwipe called him over. He hadn't seen them since the day the zapfish was stolen nearly 6 months ago. Regardless of that time gap, they'd recognized him and invited him to play with them again. It was... nice, being on a team with people who wanted him there. He'd done a fair number of games with them since, and had another one or two nebulously planned for some time in the future.

Eventually, though, it was time to ready up and head towards the cabin. Despite the ongoing power crisis, the city was still rife with activity. At this point, he was far more familiar with the dimmed and unpowered displays in the store windows; he wasn't sure how he'll handle the full intensity of things once he gets the Great Zapfish back. With his mission now on the mind, he decided to take a small detour into a convenience store on his way. A few minutes later, two crabby cakes in hand, Quinn entered the Plaza with a light smile on his face. He had to wait a moment for the coast to be clear, but before long he was on his way to the cabin proper.

His mind wandered back to the crazy stamper cube fight from a week ago. The entire experience was the most bizarre mix of odd and terrifying. Only quick thinking, luck, and his practice with super jumping saved his life in there. If not for that thing blindly tearing through the walls, he wouldn't have been able to escape. After such a close shave both he and The Captain agreed that their missions needed to slow down a bit. Speed wasn't worth the risk of falling into another trap.

It didn't take them long to come up with a new plan: do a LOT more recon and information gathering to build up a wealth of knowledge about the events in the domes before committing to anymore attacks. He'd only been on three recon missions since, and even then, one of them was only sweeping the outermost domes. The rest of the days had been light training or days off. Today wasn't much different, still more recon, but now he was venturing deeper. They'd found evidence of some kind of mass training exercise to the east end of the domes. Thousands of troops were being shuffled over, which gave him the perfect chance to check on one particular dome on the southern side he's had his eyes on.

The Captain opened the door as he stepped onto the porch. "There ya are lad! Come on in, food's almost done cooking!"

"Yes sir!" Quinn eagerly agreed as he marched through the door. The Hero Suit was laid out in the living room like usual, freshly washed by The Captain the night before. He tossed on the Suit and Vest, just so he could clip the tank onto his back and slow-fill it while he ate. It was slightly easier on the body to do it that way, and with a tank as big as the Hero tank, every little bit counted.

Today's lunch was a massive vat of mushroom stew, far more than the duo could finish in one sitting. Conversation swapped between banter and strategy while they ate. The Captain told another story about his grandsquids and their awful dead-end job at some warehouse in town. Then it was decide there should be some time spent re-mapping out the caves surrounding the domes as well, there were some structures and patrols outside that hadn't been accounted for in a long time.

As they finished the meal, Quinn pulled the crabby cakes from his back pocket, eliciting an excited gasp, wide smile from the The Captain. Quinn excitedly told the story of the final match before he was promoted to S rank, which only got him more cheers, congratulations and a strong pat on the back from the old man.

Eventually, mission time finally arrived. Quinn threw on the rest of his suit, holstered the Hero Shot, and walked outside. Like usual, The Captain was waiting with the comms equipment backpack stuffed fuller than should be possible.

"Ya got yer bombs this time?" He asked with a chuckle.

Quinn flushed slightly in embarrassment, but nodded. "All ten of them." He patted the small pockets on the back of each shoulder, each holding half his total.

"Good." The Captain scratched the bottom of his beard as they started walking. "Didja study yer maps like I told ya?"

"Yes sir."

"All yer maps?" The Captain specified with a glance.

Quinn rubbed the back of his head. "All the octavian ones." ]

The Captain gave him a side eye before relenting with a sigh. "We'll work on that later. Fer now... Where's the secret exit in Ag 2?"

"Two thirds of the way around the stacked fields from the south transition, right below the three rectangle screens!"
[
"The closest populated dome?"

"Agriculture 1!

"That's closest open, not closest populated."

"Ah, Housing 2?

]
"There ya go! How many exits does that one have?"

"Three! Two transitions and the secret exit in the ceiling. Easy to get to from one of the taller apartment buildings."

"And the dome for today's mission?"

"The two transition tunnels - one of which is shared with Housing 2 actually - and another secret exit at the top! Though, that one doesn't have a building under it so it's best for entrance only."

"Ha! Good lad." The Captain stopped to tussle Quinn's mantle, to which he playfully batted the old man's hand away. "We're not done yet," The Captain contuned, "what about the catwalks?"

"What about 'em?" Quinn shot back, feeling confident.

By the time they reached The Captain's cave 'office', Quinn had been quizzed on nearly every facet of the dome's he'd seen so far. There were a lot of questions about the domes he'd only seen the maps for as well, but The Captain was a bit nicer with those questions.

"Yer as ready as studying can getcha." The Captain confirmed with a nod.

"Thank you, sir." Quinn helped unpack the bag and plug some of the equipment in.

"Ya know Quinn, ya don't haveta call me 'sir' all the time. I understand yer bein respectful and all, but it reminds me of bein in the army."

"Isn't that kinda what we're up to right now?" Quinn asked while gesturing around the room.

"Oh pssh." The Captain gave a performatively dismissive wave in Quinn's direction. "This is different. Far too few of us to be an army, even if we counted Agents One and Two." There was a few seconds pause as the two finished setting up the comms equipment. "But still, ya don't need to be so formal all the time."

Quinn stepped back and started running through a series of warmup stretches. "What... uh, what do the other Agents call you then?"

"Mm, well, they usually call me Gramps. Unless we're out on a mission of course."

Quinn stopped mid stretch. The other agents were his grandsquids? That.. made a shocking amount of sense actually. He'd heard just as many, if not more, stories about Agents One and Two than The Captain's grandsquids. Truth be told he was a little upset he didn't make the connection on his own.

Quinn resumed his stretches. "I didn't know they were... I guess I never put two and two together."

"That's quite alright bucko. There's been a lotta other stuff on yer plate than listening to an old man's rambling." He paused for long enough to take a seat on the desk's little folding stool. "I think they'd like you."

Quinn, who was deep into a lunge, lost his balance and fell over at The Captain's sudden words.

"W-who? Your grandsquid- eh, the other Agents?"

"I think you three'll get along great." The Captain said with a genuine smile. "You'd fit right in."

Quinn sat there on the ground, just thinking over The Captain's words. He thought back to the nights he's stayed in the cabin, the meals shared and the general sense of comfort he felt around The Captain. Having someone else to share that feeling of belonging with sounded... nice.

"Call me whatever ya want to, kid," The Captain concluded with a chuckle. "So long as it's not brazenly disrespectful."

Quinn didn't say anything, just nodding before he picked himself off the floor.

"Right then lad, we got a mission to go on! Ready on yer signal." The Captain shuffled a few things around on the table before looking back to Quinn.

For his part, Quinn took a few more moments to finish his stretches, before meeting The Captain's eyes. "Let's do it!"

"Heads up barracks 12, Ten Minutes until departure!" Coordinator Yuriko's sugar sweet voice instructed through the static-filled intercom.

Arai growled in frustration at the announcement. "Stupid. Rusting. Inkling." She swore with each pull of her boot's laces. "Stupid. Rusting. System!" Her back was still sore from the previous two days of work, and bending over to tie her boots was not helping anything. She had to pause and deliberately unclench her jaw before continuing her pre-deployment checks.

Without bothering to hide the frustration in her voice, she listed the remaining checks she had yet to complete. "Boots? Yeah. Armor?" She slammed a fist against her chest, resulting in a dull clang and a sore fist. "Yeah. Holster? Yup, it's there too. Wow! You'd think after a year of this shitty routine I'd have it memorized by now!"

"You got your belt?" Alabi nonchalantly asked before finishing off a ration bar. She turned away before Arai could answer, mumbling "Now where did I put my gloves?" as she knelt down by the chest in front of her bunk.

Arai glared at her unit-mate, who couldn't see her. "Of course I do." She confidently touched her lower stomach, only to find said space empty. "I don't-- where the--UGHHH" Arai cut herself off with another angry groan before dropping to her knees and throwing open her own trunk.

"Arai, breathe." Alabi scolded her, looking over the top of her chest. "You sound like you're about to choke yourself out. There's a reason they make us do the checklists. Simple mistakes happen!"

A third voice chimed in from the back of the room. "You saw what happened to the guy in the other squad when Yuriko saw him without a belt. His arms shook so bad he couldn't aim a charger for a week!" The unit's technician, Ramona, was lounged on their bed, absentmindedly coming through their pack. Alabi laughed at the anecdote, before searching a bit more thoroughly for her gloves.

"This entire exercise is a load of scrap and you know it!" Arai indignantly shot back. "We run roller drills after two back-to-back days of training, only to have to haul two transports across the entire rusted complex and back!" She paused just long enough to suck in a breath. "I don't care how much more 'efficient' this system is, making us pull a literal ton of weight BY HAND isn't a good system."

"You got off topic again." Alabi lightly chastised from inside her trunk.

"They work us near to death four days in a row, and then have the AUDACITY spring another surprise combat drill on us day five!?" Arai's rant ended with a huff. She continued with a much softer, tired voice. "It's so much more than they said it would be before I graduated. I just..."

"AHA!" Alabi cheered as she pulled her gloves from the trunk. She stood quickly while sliding them onto her hands. "I hear what you're saying" Alabi admitted. She kicked the trunk, causing its lid to fall shut. "Things didn't used to be nearly this active. That started, eh, right about when you joined actually. Wow, that sucks." Alabi thought for a moment. "Maybe you've been onto something this whole time." She said, entirely sincere.

"That's for the better actually." Ramona added from the back. "Means you don't actually know what things were like before."

Alabi flexed an arm as she tried to lighten the mood. "The training exercise will be good for you! Loosen up those sore muscles you know? Work out the tension."

"They're doing it to keep us too tired to complain." Arai jabbed a finger towards Ramona overtop her trunk. "Nothing will get better if everyone's too tired to speak up!"

"You'll have got to be our strongest soldier then."

Arai scoffed as she sloppily threw her own pair of gloves onto the floor behind her. "I don't understand why you're both so calm about all this." She didn't need to see them to know the exact response they'd both give. It'd be the exact same stupid 'Oh gee! Well I guess we can't do anything about it!' shrug they were so fond of. Like they couldn't be even SLIGHTLY bothered about the carp we have to put up with.

"We're soldiers." Ramona said from the back of the room. "Fighting's what we do. The brass wants us fightin? We're fightin. Give it another year or two and you'll settle into things.." There were a few moments of shuffling sounds before they spoke again. "Alley~ come over here and help me check my pack."

Arai slammed the lid of her trunk shut. "We don't fight anyone but ourselves! We haven't since we got stuck down here! This entire thing is a waste of our fucking time!"

"Mmmm." Ramona turned away from Arai, propping their head on the wall with her arms.

Arai could feel each individual muscle start to twitch under her eye she stared at her squadmate so intently. And then they just ignore me. Brush me off and just accept the drudgery and misery we're all forced into.

The room was filled with the sounds of Ramona's exaggerated yawns, complete with over the top arm stretching and and everything. "Think about it as one of those old turf war games that were played on the surface then."

"At least that way, you wouldn't take all this so seriously." At the end of the bed, Alabi put on the exact same performance. She made sure to add just the perfect amount of extra annoying squeakiness to her take. She meandered over to the front of the bed, where she fell onto it, practically into Ramona's lap. Under the 'guise' of another yawn, they each wrapped an arm around the other, and then leaned back with their eyes closed.

Arai's grip tightened around the only thing in reach, which in this case happened to be the round metal bedframe. Again with the rusted theatrics. Hoooly carp, you two. Just wave me out of the room and fuck already, you'd save us all so much trouble. She felt the give her claws pierced through the thin metal, but didn't let go for a few more seconds. Slowly she drew her fingers out, tracing them over the countless other punctures that lined the bed's lower support.

They must have heard her grumbling, because Alabi spoke up again. "Besides, Apparently this time it actually is real combat!"

"If you still believe that crap after four years, I don't know what to tell you." She shot them a final glare before turning away opening her trunk again. It was baffling how neither of them were bothered by the constant stream of lies, demands, and rules coming from on high. 'Push yourself to your limits with ELEVEN HOURS of training! We have to make sure you're ready for the attack on the surface that'll never come! Wow, you pulled that entire shipment all the way across the entire rusted complex? Well good on you! Here, have less food than before as a reward! Times are tough after all, there's not as much to go around anymore. You understand, that's why we have to make sure every square fucking millimeter of fabric is preserved!

It was literally impossible for her to ignore the flow of mumbled words and 'cutesy' giggles coming from the back of the room. And holy shit if something doesn't pull those two apart soon I'm going get a crowbar and do it myself.

Arai choked down her frustration well enough to keep her voice even. "What makes this exercise 'real' exactly?"

"Well, all of the barracks D and up are being moved over to The Cliffside for training." Arai recounted through a blessed pause in their touchy feely time. "The rest of us are being held behind in this dome. For... something. Guy down the hall who told me says it's an ambush."

"I don't care why we're doing it, I get to set up a mortar!" Ramona practically lit up the room with their excitement, while Arai suppressed a groan.

"Really?! Can I shoot it?"

"What kind of ambush uses a mortar?" Arai pinched the bridge of her nose. Why did she even bother trying to add anything else to the conversation? She knew she wasn't getting an answer.

"No," came Ramona's blunt reply.

In fact, she knew exactly what was about to happen down to the last detail. Alabi makes that one pathetic whiny face. Ramona turns their head away. Alabi doubles down on the face. Ramona sighs dramatically, splaying her arms to the side. A few moments later, Arai could hear the dramatic sigh she was expecting. Count it: one, two three--

"But..."

Count it: one, two, three--

"You can throw the tracers!"

A knock sounded at their door, interrupting their pointless show.

Arai shot to her feet and bolted to the door. She made it over in two strides, yanking it open in a desperate bid to get her squadmates to stop.

One of their other unit members, Kiran, stood in the hallway just outside the door. He was a bit surprised at just how violently she had yanked the door open, but he recovered quickly. "Weapons closets have been opened, you all ready?"

Being out of that room- even if only standing in the doorway- was enough to calm her broiling nerves a bit. She sighed, feeling some of that impotent rage seep out of her as the air left her lungs. "I just need a few things, and they're, uh..."

They both turned to look into the back of the room. Ramona and Alabi stood on opposite sides of the bed, peering into Ramona's technician pack. "Mounting bolts, and their washers, both there. Good. Alabi, is my wrench on the ground by your feet? I think it got knocked off by accident."

Alabi shared a unimpressed look with Kiran. Their little 'pack checking' act might fool a passing commander or coordinator, but any unfortunate soul who'd spent more than 5 minutes around those two could see through it in an instant. Officially, they shouldn't even be looking into each other's eyes. Yet, despite the explicitly clear regulations they seem to hold in such high regards for every other aspect of their miserable lives down here, Arai had to deal with their incessant, unending obsession with each other. Every. Single. Fucking. Night.

They stared just long enough to cause the lover's act to start floundering before Kiran breaks the silence. "Well, uhhh. You three should hurry up and get ready. Our commander is still in a bad mood"

Arai turned on the spot, her temper flaring. "STILL? Stars above, it's been over a week! What the hell does she do that pisses her off so much!" It was exhausting. Like their commander wasn't already one of the most hard-ass people in the entire complex, she just had to go and do something that put her in the worst possible mood she could be in. EVERY SINGLE TIME THEY GET LEAVE. And then she doesn't even have the audacity to calm herself down over a fucking WEEK after the event."

She let out a loud huff as she looked between her companions. None of them had any guesses apparently, because no one said anything. Arai pinched the bridge of her nose. "Darkness hold me, like this wasn't already miserable enough. We have to deal with our leader being a bitch too?" Arai's spare fist balled.

"Hey man, I'm just the messenger," Kiran halfway-playfully put his hands up as he backed away from the door. "We're leaving in just a few minutes so hurry up and get out here."

Arai gave him a curt nod and threw the door shut.

"Girl, you have got to get it under control or you're going to get a write up for tackling a Coordinator or something."

Arai slowly looked to the back of the room. The door hadn't even been closed for five seconds, and her squadmates had already returned to indulging in each other and berating her.

Arai's fists clenched so hard she could feel her claws tearing through the callouses she'd developed from years of doing just that. "Just let me finish the fucking checklist." she bit back through tightly gritted teeth, before dropping to her knees. She grabbed her gloves from the floor behind her and forcefully pulled them over her hands, muttering quietly to herself as she adjusted them so the rips in the palms weren't on display.

"I'm tellin ya Ally, all we need to do is set up a unit swear jar. We'd have a record player in three days!"

It took everything Arai had to not send her fist through the side of her trunk. When she finally spotted her belt, she had to take a second to steady herself, but she puled it out all the same. She then carefully grabbed a small ink vial from a box in the trunk's corner, and then just. Sat there for a few moments.

Arai closed her eyes, tried her best to block out the sounds in the room, and just focused on her breathing. She wanted to hurl this vial of ink at the wall, and then punch holes through it until she passed out. Instead, she very deliberately kept her breathing steady, and even for nearly a minute. She opened her eyes, and carefully laid her wax canvas belt out on the ground in front of her. Ink from the vial was very carefully poured into each of the several buttons along the belt's inside. These would seep the ink into her own personal ink stream, and provide her some small generalized boosts during combat.

She just finished recorking the vial when Alabi's chittering laughter pierced through the thin barrier of peace she had erected. Her hand instinctually curled, shattering the small vial in the process. "RUSTING DAMN IT!" Arai clambered to her feet, haphazardly threw the bits of glass into her trunk, snatched her belt off the ground, and stormed out of the room.

She stalked away, muscling Alex, one of her unit members, out of her way. Around her, other soldiers were exiting their rooms, milling about with the rest of their units while waiting for their commanders to return. A rainbow of mantle colors all slowly blead towards the same homogenous magenta. She stopped at the open weapons closet, grabbed her octoshot without saying a word, and stalked over to a mirror a few steps further down the hallway.

In the mirror, her freckle dotted face glowered back at her, almost as red as her mantle. She slid a metal clip off the back of her octoshot, and used it to pull her back tentacle up into a ponytail. Once that wasn't pulling too tight, she focused on her ink color, swapping it away from its natural deep maroon to the same shade of magenta as everyone else. She again focused on her breathing while she slid her belt around her waist, closing her eyes once it was properly fastened.

Sixty seconds later, she opened her eyes again. The red of agitation had faded back into her bronze skin, hopefully well enough that the Coordinator wouldn't make a fuss about it when she came through. Her face softened slightly as she met her own eyes in her reflection. Light purple pupils were hid under her furrowed brow, an effect only made worse by the goggles pushing down on her forehead. The bags under her eyes only made her feel more pathetic, but there wasn't really anything she could do about that in the end.

Her focus remained almost entirely on keeping her breathing steady as she walked back to her unit. There were eight of them in total. She, Alex, and Alabi made up the basic octoshot soldiers. Kiran and his brother Toshi used a roller and charger respectively. Ramona handled the unit's technical support, and Nick, their medic, carried their portable respawner. That made seven, leaving only...

"UNIT 12-C7! ON ME!" A harsh voice shouted from only a few steps away. Immediately Arai and the rest of her unit were standing at attention in two lines, their weapons drawn but not aimed or loaded. Several other units nearby fell into formation out of fear. Her unit's infamous leader didn't get her reputation from nothing.

"Leader Mizuta, Ma'am!" All seven of unit 12-C-7 responded as one, saluting in sync with one another as their leader, Imari Mizuta, stepped to the front of the group. Arai suppressed a sigh upon seeing that indeed, their leader was still very upset about something.

"Out the door, on my march! We're due outside in three minutes and I intend to make it with three to spare!" Imari barked.

"Ma'am!" Unit 12-C7 cried in sync, following her out the door with an expedited march. Just get this rusted day over with, then.