Craig made a few choice marks on the map in front of him, based on Agent Three's movements. "Now, Agent One was sure she could make the shot. Two didn't necessary agree, but she wanted to see what'd happen. One got into position, propped her roller against her shoulder and swung. Bam! Dead center." Craig rambled on through his story, his voice quiet and steady. He paused whenever Quinn said something, dutifully making notes and corrections on the map whenever necessary.

This map hadn't been updated in nearly a year, so the updates were a pretty welcome change. Thing were still mostly the same; it was just another military complex, though this one was rather flat. The usual odd gaggle of tall administrative buildings at the front, right by the tunnels to the other dome. Barracks arranged in neat rows clustered around the middle of the dome, broken up by the occasional courtyard for the soldiers to mill about in. Training fields and equipment took up the remaining space, save for a few buildings along the hills on the outskirts. Or at least, that's how it should have been.

"Captain, almost the entire west side training field has been walled off. It's like a warehouse." Agent Three quietly explained over the radio. "I'm gonna take a closer look."

"Keep yer eyes peeled lad. Even with a huge chunk a' the military stationed a few domes over, it doesn't mean this place is empty." He moved to roughly mark this new development on the map, but stopped when something pinged on the tracking monitor. His eyes snapped to it instantly, prepared to convey the threat as quickly as possible. Ah, just that damn thing again. Another white dot had appeared on the movement tracker's screen, up and to the left of Quinn. It disappeared almost as quickly when the screen refreshed. Maybe it's finally time I get Ammoses's kid to clean this old junk up. Seems like it's finally starting to go on the fritz. He wacked the side of the monitor with his cane just to be sure.

"Captain..." Agent Three whispered with an edge to his tone.

"You alright?" Craig asked in turn, keeping a careful eye on the radar.

"I found a window on the training warehouse thing. It's..." He paused, and took a shuddering breath. "It's a recreation of downtown Inkopolis."

Downtown Inkopolis? That means— Craig's thoughts were cut off when two blips appeared on the radar. "Two incoming from the west."

"Shit, Ok. Where can I..."

"Inside the replica?"

"There's ink on the ground in there. I don't see anyone, but that doesn't feel right to me. None of this does."

Craig kept a close eye on the radar as he tracked Quinn's steady progress. "They're walkin' right where ya were. Still behind you. I'd—" Two more blips appeared on the radar. "Two more comin in from the south."

"Shit, that's where I was headed." Quinn turned to the east. "I might need to leave the zapfish."

Craig watched his Agent turn another way, moving between the barracks. "That's alright lad, better to try again another day. Can't have you getting stuck down there." He didn't miss it when another stray tracker popped onto the screen for a moment, this one vaguely up and to the right of Quinn. It also disappeared when the display refreshed. This didn't start until that fight with that damn stomper thing. It went crazy for a minute then, and it's been popping up ever since. Maybe something in the suit got damaged?

"Damn. Alright." Quinn replied, his voice tense.

"They're matching your moves still, do you have a way out?" Craig asked, not daring to move his eyes anywhere but the map and screens before him.

"Unless I want to try and sneak past these guys, I'm gonna get pushed out behind the barracks."

"If ya can get the jump on em, I'd say fight, but I don't know what yer odds of that would be. The could be elites for all we know. Keep yer wits about you."

"I'm gonna try and sneak around the outer ring of the barracks. Try to at least get to the point I can superjump to the tunnels if I need to."

"The two groups have met up, still moving your way... that's not right... it's like they know where you are."

"I don't—"

"Four more, directly ahead of you!"

"Fuck!" Quinn hissed. "Captain, something's not right here!" He ducked through an alleyway, right against the open training grounds behind the barracks.

This isn't good! they're practically herding him right into the open! A pit opened in Craig's stomach. "Kid, you need to—"

Another false marker appeared on the tracking screen, directly below him. The pit widened into an entire chasm. Three pings... closing in on Three... It can't be... Craig quickly marked the approximate locations of all three pings on the map in front of him Barracks, barracks... oh no. Three points, in a triangle.

Dots bloomed across the radar screen.

"QUINN THEY KNOW YOU'RE THERE!! IT'S A TRAP!!!"

"GET THE HELL OUT OF THERE!!" The Captain's voice roared through his headset. The only other warning Quinn got was a chorus of charger beeps.

Moving on sheer instinct, Quinn dove forward, dodging the first volley of charger shots. He desperately fired ink onto the ground, which he superjumped out of less then a second after submerging in it. The frantic, haphazard nature of the jump made it very messy, sending him careening in a random direction. As bad as a position as this might put him in, it was better than being annihilated by firing squad. He instinctively righted himself in the air, and landed hard on the ground, but managed to recover by rolling forward.

Every second counted here. Countless Octavian soldiers were chasing after him, with even more super jumping ahead of him. Chargers, rollers, splattershots, all pressing in, set to envelope him if he didn't move. With his exits rapidly vanishing, Quinn chose the only viable way forward: straight into the hoard of soldiers. He raised the Hero Shot, flicked to it's second firing mode, and readied himself to fight.

A roller reached him first, Quinn ducked under the soldier's swing and fired back at them. One splat. The soldier's soul floated into the air off in some direction towards a respawner. He tore through the other soldiers immediately around him, two splattershots and the another roller, buying him just enough space to breathe.

Quinn snatched a bomb from the left pocket and tapped it to the Hero Shot, he chucked it at the one of the clusters of soldiers behind him, buying himself a scare few steps of space. With this scant breathing room, he turned back to the mass of soldiers who jumped ahead of him. Quinn feigned a charge towards the right, only to drop into the ink on the ground in front of him - using it to charge a superjump directly in the middle of the squad. He fired in a wide circle, abusing their slow reactions to take out enough of the soldiers for him to run.

Charger shots grazed his sides, only narrowly missing because of Quinn's unpredictable lunges and slides. He just managed to roll under two shots when the telltale shriek of an ink mine sounded underfoot. Quinn hurled himself to the side, managing to avoid most of the blast, but taking a charger shot directly to the shoulder as consequence. The jacket absorbed it for the most part, but he could definitely feel it.

Evasion was his method of choice, but he wasn't the fastest runner. Not that there was really another option right about now, with so many soldiers pressing down on him. Quinn used every trick, slide, jump and roll he'd ever learned to buy enough slivers of time to do another. There was no chance to think about the later, hi focus entirely on surviving the now. Over the headset, he could hear The Captain cursing under his breath and banging some kind of metal together, but he didn't have the time to think about that.

Finally, he managed to break out of the open training field, entering the maze of barracks at the bottom left corner. It wasn't necessarily better, but he could break line of sight here. Any singular second they couldn't see him was another second he had to escape. But where was he even running too? The main tunnels would undoubtedly be blocked, and there was no way he was getting through the dome's secret exit with so many soldiers bearing down on him.

He barreled down the long alley between two of the barracks, cutting left at the first opportunity. The plan was to charge back through the barracks, hopefully putting enough distance between himself and the mass of soldiers that he could somehow slip away. Breaking into one of the courtyards between the barracks, he was immediately forced into a slide to avoid a rapid flurry of ink shots directly overhead. A ground-mounted splatling aimed right for him, manned by two octolings. Quinn rolled to the side, desperately pulling himself back to his feet only to immediately jump out of the way as a second splatling began shooting while the first reloaded. The Hero Shot took a rare break in its holster as Quinn grabbed a bomb in each hand. He charged forward, taking stray shots to his right from another volley of ink as he did so. The moment one of the bombs primed, he held it against his back and jumped backwards away from another concentrated stream of fire. He changed forms mid air. The bomb dug into his back as his squid form landed atop it. The pain didn't last long as the bomb quickly burst, the pressure pushing him upwards as the ink rained out into a large puddle behind him.

Quinn swam into this ink for less than a second, before flying into into the air on yet another superjump. Transforming back the moment it wouldn't ruin his momentum, he soared through the air until he was in position to drop the second bomb onto the reloading splatling crew. They tried to run, but the bomb burst on impact and splatted the duo.

Glancing around as he traveled, there was an uncountable number of soldiers swarming around the place, intent on catching him. There wouldn't be any getting out of this cleanly. Abusing the small break in splatling fire, he superjumped somewhere between two barracks. A few moments of sprinting later, and he approached another, smaller courtyard. This section was packed full of soldiers too, but they didn't know he was coming. Rolling off his landing, he charged forward for a moment, before breaking off perpendicular while shooting in in a random diagonal line. Charger shots and splattershot fire quickly began prodding him from every direction, just narrowly missing his scrambling form. Without any indication, he turned and dove for the ink line he just painted. He quickly swam about two thirds of the way through before a low power-superjump carried him over the squad blocking one of the escapes. He quickly filled and threw a bomb behind him as he ran, buying himself a few moments to breathe as he ducked down the random alley.

For just a moment, Quinn pressed his back to a wall and tried to catch his breath. "Captain! Are you alright?"

"I'm fine for the moment lad, but I won't be for long." The Captain's strained voice yelled towards the microphone from a fair ways away. "They've triangulated my locat—"

Quinn didn't catch the rest of the Captain's statement as a small, orange-capped pod landed a few steps in front of him. Time slowed as he stared at the pod, and then the giggling octoling who threw it. Only pure, turf-trained instinct had him wrench his body to the side as a massive swirl of magenta ink briefly replaced the air where he was just standing.

He didn't let himself think - he didn't have the time too. He spotted the octoling running away from him down the ally. She had thrown the inkstrike's tracer, which meant she was close to the mortar that launched it. That mortar could not be allowed to stand if he wanted any change of getting out. The Hero Shot was flicked backwards and fired, painting the wall. He swapped to swim form and jumped into the ink without hesitation. Less than two seconds later, he shot down the alleyway after her.

Ahead of him, the octoling looked over her shoulder. the cocky smile she wore was quickly replaced by panic when she saw how quickly he was approaching. Quinn spun in the air, landing only a handful of steps behind her, already running. She lost her balance, nearly plowing into one of the walls beside her before catching herself. Another orange-capped pod fell from her hand onto the ground, forcing Quinn to slam himself into a wall to avoid the torrent of magenta ink. He shot a trail of ink up the wall he was pushed against, and then swam up it to get to higher ground. The roof was made of a slick material, so he couldn't pool any ink on the ground, but he couldn't be cornered up there either. It wasn't slick enough to cause any troubles with running at least.

When the octoling suddenly turned down one of the alleyways between barracks, Quinn had to jump to the next building. Landing with only a slight stumble, he barreled across the building's flat roof at a sharp angle. He managed to catch up to the octoling still down in the alley.

Another bomb forced the octoling to throw herself against the wall, much like he had moments ago. She dropped a mortar tracker as cover so he couldn't close the gap between them. In the distance, he could see a large blast of magenta rise into the sky. That's where the mortar raining hell on him is then. He pivoted where he stood, running straight for the mortar itself , ignoring the rain of magenta that filled the alley he'd already left. There's no telling how many octolings have tracers, taking just the one out wouldn't do him any good.

Wherever he was running clearly wasn't where they were trying to push him, as there wasn't a single soldier on the ground below him. He sprinted across the rooftops from somewhere in the middle of the complex, to the right edge, stopping right before the last building to drop back to the ground in-between the buildings.

He leaned against the wall, sucking in as many desperate breaths as he thought he could get away with. The Hero Shot bounced from left to right, covering the entrances to the alleyway as he continued to guzzle air. Luckily no soldiers appeared, so he dropped his guard a tiny fraction to take stock. A little over half the ink in his tank was gone, spent fueling his reckless superjumping and charitable bomb use. A quick pat own confirmed he only had five bombs left, two on his right shoulder and three on his left. He pushed a bit of ink out of his hand and slapped it against the wall beside him. The color was a lighter shade of blue than usual. It wasn't enough of a difference to cause any issues with the ink currently in his tank, but little difference can add up. He focused for a moment, shifting his ink back to normal. He'd just have to hope it stayed there.

He sucked down as many desperate breaths as he could while taking stock of his current supplies. Bombs were running low, five left, three on his left shoulder, two on his right. A bit over half the ink from his tank was gone. His ink color was a lighter shade of blue than normal. It shifted back to normal at his command, he just had to hope it stayed there.

Quinn didn't close his eyes— he didn't dare with the mortar around— but he counted to three all the same. When his time ran out, he moved.

He rolled out of the side alley, sprinting towards the concrete field, empty except for a squad of nervous soldiers and that damnable Mortar. The soldiers all looked seemed alarmed at his approach, but however afraid of him they were paled in comparison to the way they flinched when one of the soldiers holding a splattershot started barking orders. There were seven soldiers total, counting the one shouting at him: the mortar's operator, a charger, a roller, three of their weird modified splattershots, and one tinkering with a large, gray machine.

Quinn didn't waste time, shooting ink on the wall beside him; which he used to superjump the remaining distance. Moments before he landed, he fired a large arc of ink out onto the ground around him. With the soldiers forced a few steps back, he dropped into the ink to break line of sight. He broke as hard left as he could, emerging with a bomb in onw hand and the Hero Shot in the other. The roller and one of the splattershots didn't react in time, and burst into a spray of blue ink, their souls drifting in the direction of the mortar.

Incoming charger shots didn't give him a break, forcing Quinn to throw himself forward. Charger users never expect anyone to sprint straight at them, and this one was no exception. The poor soldier panicked, his grip on the weapon slipping as he stumbled backwards. Quinn lurched for the soldier's weapon, yanking it from his grip. The charger made a satisfying crack sound as Quinn slammed his foot into the charger's barrel, rendering the weapon useless.

He rode his momentum, intending to finish this fight before any of the soldier got a chance to react. Unfortunately, neither the mortar operator nor the soldier by the gray machine seemed keen on letting him close to their respective devices. The mortar operator in particular glared at him something fierce, clearly wanting to engage him.

A sudden shaking from the gray machine stopped him. He aimed the Hero Shot at the disarmed soldier as he watched, just in case. His eyes narrowed as a soldier burst from the top of the machine, carrying a roller, the same soldier Quinn had splatted a few moments ago. That large machine was a respawner, then. That made things a lot more complicated, because Quinn was not going to destroy a respawner, even if there were likely several more nearby.

The mortar operator shouted at the two soldiers, screaming "stop him" and and something about one particular alley? They stamped her foot against the mortar's counterweight platform as one of the soldiers argued with them. That sparked an idea sparked in Quinn's mind.

With the new information at hand, Quinn made a puddle of ink below him. He waited just a second, before superjumping straight at the mortar itself. The operator's rant was cut off by a shriek; the only reaction she could make before Quinn dropped a bomb right beside her. The operator burst in a spray of blue ink as his leg's impacted the side of the mortar. The momentum carried him forward, tipping the mortar towards the ground, but knocking him off balance in the process. He managed to awkwardly roll over his left shoulder to somewhat save the fall, but it still took an excruciatingly long couple of seconds to right himself again. Behind him, the sound of crunching metal mixed with cries of surprise. The entire battlefield paused to watch as the mortar's counterweight platform fell over, crushing the launching and pressurization mechanisms underneath.

He recovered before the soldiers, but the difference wasn't big enough for him to slip away. Two soldiers closed in on him, aiming their splattershots directly at his as they approached. He recognized one of them as the soldier who had been barking order before, presumably the leader. He didn't recognize the other, but he see that she looked ready to rip him to pieces with her claws rather than splat him.

Quinn kept the Hero Shot raised, his aim swapping between the two of them in an effort to keep them back. He was trapped between the pair, the leader keeping him from running into the open, while the angry soldier blocked his path back into the maze of barracks. He couldn't superjump either, they were both close enough to catch him before he could launch.

For the briefest of moments, it was a standoff.

Unfortunately for the octolings, a moment was all Quinn needed. He fired at the angry soldier, before suddenly breaking towards the leader, not letting up on the trigger as he did so. The result was a large arc of ink on the ground, one he dove into and swam along just as the leader started returning fire. Quinn streaked through the ink, jumping out with a bomb in his hand the moment he reached the edge of his trail. He rode his momentum straight towards the angry soldier, bomb primed and ready to burst. She screamed as he approached, but not out of fear. She aimed her splattershot straight at him and fired, yelling obscenities he could only barely understand. Quinn grunted as he turned his right shoulder forward, most of the soldier's shots pelting into it. He let out a scream of his own as he lunged for her, knocking her to the ground as he shoved the bomb down next to her. Both the bomb and the soldier burst in a large spray of blue ink, the pressure from the bomb's explosion pushing Quinn slightly back, but he plunked into the new puddle of blue ink all the same. He watched the soldier's soul float towards the respawner from the corner of his vision.

He spent a terrifying few seconds swimming around in the puddle to absorb as much extra ink as he could, before launching himself straight at the leader. He faked holding a bomb as he brought the Hero Shot to bear. The leader clearly expected him to try the same trick he'd just done to her companion, as she aimed her splattershot to unload into whichever shoulder he turned towards her. Quinn instead rolled underneath her attack, swept her feet from under her and blasting her with the Hero Shot before she could recover.

Ok, space bought, but only barely. The roller and splattershot from earlier were running at him, now joined by the mortar operator. The barracks were still blocked off, this time by the soldier who was originally throwing the mortar tracers and her splattershot. In the distance, he could see at least two more divisions of soldiers sprinting towards him from one end of the courtyard.

A shard of genuine fear stabbed into his heart as the angry soldier literally clawed her way from the respawner. Her eyes pierced through him, burning with a rage unlike any he'd seen before.

With little time and even fewer options, Quinn had to make a move. He shot a line of ink diagonally towards the barracks wall, swimming through it to get over there as fast as possible. A rapid spray of ink coated the wall and the ground below him. He muttered his own increasingly frantic stream of curses as he slammed his elbow into the wall, knocking loose a panel of sheet metal. He slapped the limiter on the back of his tank to the lowest setting as he ducked under the sheet to block incoming fire. Time was up, the soldiers were on him. Magenta ink hammered against the sheet as he braced it with the tentacles of his swim form. He ignored the stinging pain from the splatters that made it over the top, holding steady as his body surged with ink from his tank. The ink on the ground rippled as he charged the biggest superjump of the fight.

When magenta ink started to fly overtop of the sheet metal, he finally released the jump. The sheet metal clattered away as he shot through the air, away from his assailants. He could hear the enraged screams of the angry soldier echoing after him. In the distance, he could see the dome's exit tunnels. There was a large blockade stationed in front of it, just as he had expected. The next dome over, a housing one, had an exit he could superjump to in the ceiling, assuming there wasn't another army's worth of soldiers waiting for him there at least. There was no getting out of this dome though, so that was his best shot out of here. While the blockade trucks blocked almost all of the tunnel, there was space along the top that he could fit through. The fragments of a plan threw themselves together in his mind.

He landed near the front of the barracks, away from any apparent groups of soldiers. He sprinted on, as fast as he could manage. The fight was really wearing on him; his breathing was getting labored and his shoulder was burning after the volley of attacks he'd taken to it. Supplies were low, Two bombs and maybe 60% of a tank of ink.

"Captain!" He gasped as he ran. "What's going on!"

"They're coming to get me, Agent 3." The Captain somberly answered.

"WHAT?!"

"They tracked me using our radio signals."

An involuntary squeak slipped through Quinn's mouth as he fought to keep a handle on his emotions. "Hold out there Captain, I know how I'm getting out, I'll be there as soon as I can."

There was a tense pause as The Captain seemingly weighed his options. "Alright lad, get yerself out of those domes. I'll fend 'em off for now."

Tears pricked at the edges of Quinn's eyes as he pushed himself to move even faster. He pulled the last bomb from his left shoulder as he broke into the space in front of the barracks. He couldn't see it, but he knew more soldiers would be pressing in on him soon. From here, he could see the blockade set up at the tunnel from the ground. Several squadrons of soldiers stood at arms in front of trucks parked across the tunnel's entrance. Barrels were shoved in front of the trucks, so going under them wasn't an option.

It felt like his emotions were on fire as a mixture of fear and adrenaline twisted through his body. Deep within, he could feel a surge of power welling up. His special was charging.

Specials were common in turf wars. the excitement of the fight and a particular drink provided to the players made it easy to 'stoke the flame' and trigger a tamer version of the body's stress response. Out in the field, they were more dangerous. Without something to channel the feeling into, his body would surge ink production and give him a massive boost of energy. Energy and ink didn't come from nothing though. He'd essentially be lighting both reserves on fire for a massive short term boost. In a turf war, that was no problem - you got a good chunk of time to rest between matches. Out here he'd have no such mercy, but there wasn't any other way to do what he was about to.

Quinn dropped the bomb to the ground as he felt the power burning inside him. He crouched in the resulting puddle of ink, sucking in a deep breath before letting the surge of energy wash over him. It was common sense not to superjump with a special charge. The surge of power was literally a vestigial survival instinct, there's no controlling it without outside influence. He fell into the ink, swim peaking just slightly out of the puddle as he aimed the jump. Quinn let the feeling compound within him, racking as much power as he dared into the jump.

Pounding footsteps echoed through the front yard as soldiers finally made it to him, but Quinn ignored their approach. As dangerous as they were, the jump was more important. If he hit a wall at this speed, it'd likely kill him outright. He had to aim with precision.

And then a bomb fell into the ink next to him, and Quinn decided winging it would be the better idea. With no more time to aim, Quinn shot himself forward, faster than anyone could ever hope to hit. Ink sprayed across the courtyard, splatting several soldiers as the super-pressurized blast of ink made contact with the ground.

Quinn flew through the air, pointed straight at the gap above the trucks. He moved faster than any charger could possibly track, barreling towards the blockade with all the fury he had mustered. The top of the trucks was cleared with ease, bringing a gust of wind strong enough it wedged the trucks in the tunnel's mouth. He flew along the tunnel's roof for several more seconds, until gravity finally caught up with him. Downwards he arced, until he swapped forms and sprayed ink with the Hero Shot, barely managed to catch the edge of the puddle, and chained a second jump back into the air.

The high speed of the jump caused him to stumble when he landed next. Quinn fell forward into a roll, leading with the less-injured shoulder, before popping up and running as fast as he could make himself move.

He desperately sucked in a deep breath and forced his words out. "I made it!" He coughed, before sucking in another breath. "In the tunnels, exit in the next dome."

"Good Job, Agent 3. I don't have the words to tell you how proud I am." The Captain's words were heavy and sorrowful. There was a pause, like he was weighing his words. With a quiet, defeated sigh, he spoke again. "Don't try to save me, Quinn."

Quinn nearly lost his balance, but managed to bounce himself off a wall and keep running. "NO!"

"You won't get here in time." The Captain explained in that same heavy tone. "I can see them approaching. Twenty soldiers, headed by an elite."

Quinn choked back his tears. "But I can—"

"That's an order, Agent 3." The Captain sternly instructed. With another sigh, it softened. "Please, listen to this one."

"I-" Quinn couldn't finish his sentence, as a sob ripped itself from his throat.

"It's alright, Quinn. I'll be ok." There was another pause as The Captain weighed his words. "He won't kill me."

They only offered a hollow comfort to Quinn. "But- but you said you'd hold them off!"

"I'm sorry, kiddo. They - heh - they're a bit more than I can handle. I hope you'll forgive me, but you needed the push to get past that blockade, eh?"

"Just- Just hold on! Barricade yourself in the back! Hide, or-or, something! I'll be there soon!" Quinn cried as he burst from the tunnel into the next dome. There were a few octolings milling about, but none of them had weapons drawn. They all looked shocked to see him. He quickly fired onto the ground, and used it to launch himself further into the dome.

Over the radio, The Captain grunted. "Agent 3, listen to me. This hideout is gone. Assume all hideouts we used after that stamper mission are also compromised. They tracked us by radio. Ya need to go dark. Shut yer comms down."

Quinn landed just short of the dome's center and sprinted towards the other side. This was a residential space, so there weren't any traps or weapons waiting for him. He ran towards the tallest building on this end of the dome. He could feel the adrenaline starting to die off now that he wasn't under threat. Pains he was previously ignoring began to flare around his body. Aching muscles and new injuries started a screaming competition with each other to tell him which hurt more.

"It's my fault, Quinn" The Captain explained. "You did nothing wrong here. I missed the signs this was coming. I'm sorry."

He skidded to a halt at the foot of the building. It was just another apartment complex, but one that was both tall and conveniently below the secret exit. It was sloppy, the fatigue was quickly catching up with him, but Quinn launched himself upwards again. He careened over the roof's edge, stumbling as he landed on top of it.

"Captain!" he croaked, voice just as tired as the rest of him. "Please..." He didn't manage to recover his balance, instead falling to his knees.

"Contact Agents One and Two." The Captain continued, his voice tight. "I don't know when they'll be able to help you in person, but at least that way you're not alone in this."

"No... please..."

"Agent Three, Quinn, I'm so proud of you son. Please be careful." A deafening cracking sound echoed from the radio.

"GRANDPA!" Quinn scrabbled to his feet, tears streaming down his face. He nearly fell over in the process, but he managed to right himself.

Quinn could hear bamboozler fire, followed by the Captain shouting something in octarian that he couldn't catch over the noise of the radio. A voice replied in turn, and Quinn heard his grandpa scream in pain. The voice continued, until another loud crash, and the signal cutting out.

Quinn's breathing picked up. The Captain had been squidnapped. He was gone. The only man who'd take the time of day to care for him, stolen away. Silent sobbing wracked his body.

Movement in the corner of his eye put his instincts in control. The Hero Shot was aimed with his finger on the trigger before he even registered the threat. It was an octoling, clutching her shoulder with a pained hiss. A bright golden iris looked up at him, fear and panic written through it. The other was hidden behind rust red tentacles that faded to light blue on their ends. She had no weapon, hell, she wasn't even wearing armor. Just a black undershirt and a hat of all things.

"P-please..." she croaked in octarian.

He recognized her, he noted distantly. She was one of the two out in the arena near the end of the stamper fight. She hadn't been armed then either. She wasn't a threat.

Quinn lowered the Hero Shot, instead shooting a puddle of ink on the floor. He stared down into it for just a moment as emotions battled in his head. Grief, fear, helplessness, fury, all tried to push him to act one way. Making his choice, Quinn dropped into the puddle of ink, and shot nearly directly upwards, into the fake sky. He caught the edge of the screen with a tentacle, and pulled himself through a gap between the screens. A bit more crawling and he had pulled himself into the cave system that housed the domes.

He'd been given an order. Mechanically, Quinn reached for the switch on the left ear of his headphones. He lodged his finger against it, and pushed upwards. With a bit of effort it clicked into place, and the comforting hum of the quiet radio static fell silent.