The cave's interior was trashed. All the communications equipment was missing and the desk was smashed. Magenta ink completely coated the floor, leaving no trace of the fight except small splatters of orange ink on the walls. He'd seen everything he needed to. Quinn quickly ducked out of the cave, leaving no proof he was there, save for a small puddle of blue ink and a trail of tears.

He was about halfway out of the canyon when he noticed his followers. At least four octolings were tailing him. It took an exhausting marathon of cuts, turns, and sprints to finally get them off his trail.

The moon had passed its peak when he finally stumbled up the last hill. His pulse quickened as he finally laid eyes on Cuttlefish Cabin again. Dredging up one final surge of energy, he hauled himself up to and through the cabin's front door. His eyes burned as they swept over the quiet living room. Everything was just how they'd left it that morning, but nothing felt the same. The entire place felt oppressive; the silent, dark rooms only highlighted how isolated he felt. Dark thoughts nipped at the edges of his mind as he pushed through his feelings and walked into the cabin, closing the door behind him.

It was nearly two in the morning, according to the little digital clock on the entertainment center. He was struggling to hold his head up at this point, but Quinn had one more thing he had to see done. The Captain had ordered him to reach out to the other Agents, and he would see it done before he slept tonight. He had his hand over the kitchen's old landline phone when he realized he didn't actually know how to contact the other agents.

The Captain had been deliberate in not keeping any personal details there besides his own. He had called it security: with the cabin being so close to enemy territory, he couldn't afford his agents being compromised should the place be taken. Quinn had to admit it made a begrudging amount of sense, but that really left him only once choice. he would have to scrounge around the cabin for any scrap of information he could find, starting with The Captain's study. Turning on the lights caused him to stager backwards on instinct, the brightness momentarily overwhelming him. It took several seconds and a hand braced against the doorframe to recover his balance.

Once he was reasonably sure he wasn't going to fall over, he commenced his sweep of the room. He searched every surface, every shelf and bin he could find, trying to find the other Agent's number. As expected, The Captain's desk revealed no contact or address book like he assumed any other old man would have. There were no postcards or

The room suddenly dimmed with a sharp pop! sound as one of the ancient lightbulbs in the overhead gave out. Adrenaline flooded Quinn's system. All his muscles tensed and he moved on sheer instinct. He came back into his own body a moment later, breathing heavily, with the Hero Shot drawn and pointed towards the door. His aim didn't waver as he pieced together what happened, but the moment he concluded it was safe, his arm began to tremble with effort. He slowly clipped the weapon back to his waist, breathing out heavily in a failed attempt to try and calm his nerves.

Only after scouring the far wall's overflowing pinboard was he able to find something that might work. Buried under a tide of unrelated thoughts and ideas he found a light green sticky note. The word 'Two' was written in The Captain's hand writing, a phone number penned just below it. Delicately, he pinched the note between two fingers and pulled it from the board. He misjudged the turn on his way out of the study, accidentally slamming his shoulder into the doorframe. It didn't slow him down any, he wouldn't let it. He just added the new ache to the list as he staggered through the living room.

Punching numbers into the kitchen's old landline phone called back a different set of memories he wasn't happy to think about. He grit his teeth in frustration and shoved those thoughts as far into the back of his mind as he could. He leaned against the wall while the phone beeped.

And beeped.

And beeped.

No answer.

Quinn didn't react. For several seconds, he just stood there, propped against the wall, holding the disconnected phone line to his ear. The place under his eye twitched. Wheeling on the spot, Quinn shot from the wall to the phone's base and re-punched then the numbers.

Ring, ring, ring.

Nothing.

His grip on the phone's receiver tightened. A dull anger began to cloud over his mind as he dialed the number a third time. Two identical outcomes is a coincidence; three identical outcomes are a pattern. He set the phone back on the receiver as gently as he could manage before stalking into the living room. Panic, fear, and anger clawed for control of his mind. He tried to reassure himself with routine by working his way out of the Hero Suit. There was a good reason why Agent Two hadn't picked up. Surely. Maybe she was currently on another mission, gathering intel or fighting someone.

The ink tank was set on the coffee table, its harness next to it. There was no need to drain it, as it'd been dry for a few hours at that point. He set the Hero Shot on the table beside. No point in packing the suit into into its case, he'd need it soon enough. Next were the runners. He let out a quiet sigh of relief as he pulled his feet from them. They were set on the ground next to the table with everything else. The vest and jacket came next, laid across the back of the closest armchair for The Captain to—

Right. The Captain wasn't - he couldn't - Quinn's fists balled as a wave of anguish washed over him. The Captain wasn't here to clean his uniform, or make food, or quiz him on maps. He wasn't here and it was Quinn's fault.

He braced himself against the back of the chair, right on top of the Hero Suit. What was he supposed to do here? The Captain was gone, he was out of supplies, and his only line of communication was turning up dead. He was near his limits and he was alone.

...He only called Agent Two the one time. Well, the three times, but they were back to back. Maybe she was just in a different room. Yeah, that makes the most sense. This was Agent, one of the strongest people in the country. She wouldn't just be negligent to any incoming calls, especially not from The Captain.

Back at the phone, Quinn dutifully dialed Agent Two's number for the fourth time. No answer. Distantly, he noted how his arm was shaking from the combined effort of holding up the phone and squeezing it with all the strength he had left. Again, he put the phone back on the receiver. Despite the sound it made, it wasn't damaged.

This time, rather than fruitlessly dial the phone again, he strode down the hallway. Clearly he was getting no where. Time to take a break. Keep it together. Go to the bathroom. Take a breather. Wash his face. Do some jumping jacks. Don't freak out. Drink some water. Nice and refreshing. Relaxing, even. Give Agent Two time to get back to her phone.

When everything was feeling completely alright, Quinn grabbed the phone, and was declined yet again.

His fist slammed against the hook switch, hanging up the call. He threw his hands in the air, and practically sprinted out of the room. He couldn't be here. The cabin was strangling him with the knowledge of his failure. The dark, lifeless hallways taunted him with their vacancy. The Captain was gone, it was all his fault, and he couldn't even make a fucking phone call correctly to try and fix it.

He couldn't just stand there. He had to move, had to fight, had to do something that wasn't just waiting for someone else. Wood creaked beneath his feet as he paced back and forth on the patio. He turned his mind to practical matters that he had control over. Things he could actually affect.

He was in no shape to go back out into the canyon tonight. It would be at least two or three days regardless of what he wanted, he was pushed way too far today. If he went light on the stretches and was very careful with his ink usage tomorrow, he could probably get back in the field in just two days. At least to maintain his foothold in the outer domes so he wouldn't have to carve his way back in. He scratched at the spot under his eye. He couldn't afford to slouch around and waste time, not with The Captain gone. Every second was valuable. He had to fix this, it was his fault it happened to begin with.

The phone in the kitchen began to ring just as he finished his 58th loop of the porch. It took him a few seconds to actually register what was happening, but once his brain caught up with reality he scampered back inside and yanked the receiver up to his ear.

"Hey Gramps, everything alright?" A lower, slightly raspy voice responded. Her voice was calm and a little amused. Was this Agent Two? The speaker continued without a care in the world. "You know you can call Callie's phone if you need to leave a message, right?"

Quinn practically slammed his shoulder into the wall as he leaned on it for support. The wave of relief he felt at the voice threatened to put him flat on the ground. "You're Agent Two, right?"

The other end of the line fell silent, lasting long enough to set his nerves alight. "...Yes," Agent Two admitted a sudden distrusting edge to her voice.

Quinn wanted to shout in joy. Finally, he was talking to another Agent! His mouth opened to reply, but before he could make any sound, a spike of fear drove itself through his brain. There must have been a reason he hadn't spoken to them before. Was he not supposed to contact them? There had to be a reason they hadn't answered his first calls. Maybe they were undercover, or they were in the field. Regardless of the reason, Quinn knew he probably wasn't supposed to be talking to Agent Two. It shouldn't have been him in the first place.

It's not like he could back out now. The Captain directly ordered him to reach out regardless, so its not like he had a choice.

He tried to keep his composure, but words tumbled from his mouth without any time to think about them. "I-I'm sorry to call you out of the blue like this! I know there's probably a reason I'm not supposed to call you but The Captain ordered me to contact one of you two directly and your number was the only one I could find on the pin board and I didn't have any other ways to reach out and I just—" Quinn trailed off as he ran out of breath.

"The Cap'n? You know - hold on, what?" Agent Two started, before a different voice cut her off.

"Hey, It's ok! Take a deep breath, you sound like you're about to pass out! We know the Cap'n, but could you explain what's going on exactly?" Her voice was a lot friendlier, being slightly higher pitched and much more bubbly.

"Explain... right. Yeah, ok. I can do that." Quinn breathlessly agreed. Explain why he was calling. Explain how he fucked everything up. How it was all his fault. Tell them exactly how he failed. He sucked up the little bit of pride he still had. They deserved to know; they needed to know. It wasn't his place to deny them this information, especially when they were the key to saving The Captain.

He swallowed the fear he felt, and tried to keep his thoughts on course this time. "I was out on a mission. Regular trip into the domes, update the maps, nab a zapfish if I had the chance, really nothing special. There wasn't any reason to expect any serious combat, almost half of the soldiers had been pulled to one of the eastern domes for some kind of training. It was the perfect chance to check this place, it hadn't been updated in nearly a year and there was some kind of project happening inside."

"Wait wait, you've been down in the domes?" Agent Two impatiently asked.

Quinn felt the spot under his eye twitch, but he swallowed the bead of frustration for the time being,

"Let him finish M— Two, let him explain." The second voice, (Agent One?) lightly chastised.

"Keep talking," Two demanded.

"Soldiers appeared, pushing me towards an open area at the side of the barracks where..." Quinn trailed off as he remembered the terror he felt in that moment. "It was an ambush. They were waiting for me to get there. I managed to make it out—" Quinn cut off, having to bite back another wave of emotion. He continued, voice breaking, "But The Captain..." He went silent, losing the fight as the feeling slammed into him. He didn't want to admit it out loud. It would make it all too real.

A deathly silence leaked from the other end of the phone. Agent Two broke the silence, her tone even, but laced with hidden intensity. "What happened to him?"

Quinn blinked tears out of his eyes, but managed to keep his tone level. "They ambushed him too," and it was all his fault. He wasn't fast enough to get out, or strong enough to fight through the ambush faster, or smart enough to realize they were being tracked in the first place. It was all his fault The Captain had been alone in the canyon to begin with.

"They what?!" The lighter voice screamed. "Where is he!? Is he alright? What happened?"

Quinn's voice broke again as he half-whispered into the mic. "He's gone." The phone line fell silent. "They took him. Alive, if what he said is true, but he's... he's gone." The weight of his failures truly settled on his shoulders now. Shadows felt like they were clawing at him from all around the cabin; The Captain's absence from his own home only further pushing the hollow anguish Quinn felt.

The stillness of the phone line dug at his soul, threatening to rip him apart from the tension it held. His only lifeline was on the other end, processing his failure. Neither voice said anything. They hated him. There wasn't any way they didn't. He failed their Captain, their grandfather. He couldn't live up to the expectations of an agent, and The Captain was taken as consequence.

"I'm going to go save him," Quinn announced. It wasn't a decision he had to think about; He didn't have a choice to begin with. "I think I know what dome he's being held in. I'm going to break into it and save him."

"No!" The lighter voice pleaded. "You can't go fighting through the domes! You have no idea what they're capable of! You're just one kid! You can't—"

"One." Agent Two's voice cut through the air like a knife. Her voice was frigid, no trace of emotion at all. "Stand down."

"Mar..." The lighter voice, Agent One, croaked. Quinn could hear the sobs she was barely holding back.

"Kid." Agent Two didn't respond to her companion, directing her focus solely on Quinn. "Listen to me." The stillness of her voice demanded his full attention, threatening consequences if he disobeyed. "You are talking to Agent Two of the New Squidbeak Splatoon. Agent One is with me. I tell you this because you are very obviously involved in this mess somehow. We haven't been told about any missions, personnel changes, or even that The Captain was active. You're going to explain yourself, beginning to now, so we know what's going on."

Quinn ignored the shiver that crawled its way down his spine. He sucked in a breath and gave his answer. "My name is Quinn Tidesplay, Agent Three of the New Squidbeak Splatoon."

There was a heavy pause.

"Agent Three?" Agent One asked, confused. "When did we get an Agent Three?"

Quinn's thoughts stopped. What? Did Agent One not know what was going on? "I've been working with The Captain since he scouted me in April."

"He what?" Agent Two more demanded than asked.

"Wait..." Quinn put the pieces together in his mind. No. "You two don't know anything about what I've been doing?"

"We weren't told about this, no." Agent One admitted.

"I've been training for months!" Quinn shouted "I've been on dozens of missions into the domes!" He sucked in a hard breath. When he spoke next, his voice was quieter, with a barely-there tremble. "The Captain really didn't tell you about me?"

The line is silent for several seconds, before Agent One spoke again. "We... haven't really had the time to talk to the Cap'n..." She sounded guilty.

"So you're an Agent then? Agent Three you said?" Agent Two barked at him.

"Yes!" Quinn quickly agreed. Finally, they were getting somewhere.

"Ok 'Agent Three' tell me this." Two questioned. "Why are you going into the domes?"

"What?" It was Quinn's turn to be confused. "At the Captain's orders—"

"Recon, right?"

"Yeah..." Quinn hesitantly replied. Where was she going with this? He was literally doing missions under the Captain's direct observation. "I'd work with The Captain to—"

"Then how did you get ambushed?"

Quinn's grip on the phone receiver tightened again. "It's not—"

"How did you get ambushed if you were only doing recon?"

The spot under his eye began to tingle, causing his eye to twitch. "Not all of my missions are recon! I've done other—"

"Why would you be doing anything else!?"

With his free hand, Quinn practically dug at the spot under his eye. He turned his head and clenched his jaw in an attempt to conceal his anger. She was talking down to him. She'd been away for months, completely out of contact with The Captain, and she thought she knew what's going on?

"You don't know what the situation is like anymore." Quinn said through gritted teeth. "Things have changed substantially since you stopped checking."

"Hey," Agent One offered in a softer tone. "It's been a terrible, long day for all of us. You sound like you're about to pass out where you stand. Tonight, we should all rest. We'll meet up soon, and hash out a much better plan. Pull back for now. We'll be back in a few more weeks—"

"A few weeks!?" Quinn cried, his spare hand slapping against his forehead. "The Captain was JUST kidnapped. We don't have a few weeks!"

"Listen, kid." Agent Two said, her voice flat.

Like hell she tried that after the bullshit she just pulled.

"Don't call me that." Quinn demanded. "I'm an Agent, same as you." He pushed right through her stunned silence. "Last you saw was old news. That was Months ago, your info is outdated. You don't know what's happening here anymore. The Octavians are moving, they're fighting, and they're advancing significantly faster with a quarter of Inkopolis' power grid behind them!"

"That still doesn't explain why you're being spotted." Agent Two countered. "We've both been trained by the Cap'n, there's no reason you should have been spotted, much less be engaging them!"

"The zapfish!" Quinn shouted. "I'm taking back the zapfish! The zapfish stolen from Inkopolis! The zapfish they using to supercharge their wartime production! The zapfish they're using to scrap abandoned domes for more material! The zapfish keeping the lights on so soldiers can train around the clock! The zapfish they're building SUPERWEAPONS capable of crushing an entire splatoon's worth of soldiers in a single attack with! There is quite literally no better thing I could be doing than intervening!"

"The Cap'n has you fighting inside the domes?" Agent One sounded shocked.

"YES!" Quinn wanted to put his fist through the wall. It should not have been this hard to get the point across. "I've been doing all of this with The Captain's support! It needs to be done! Inkadia has no standing military. If we don't stop them now there's no chance we'll ever be able to stop then when they march on the surface!"

The line fell silent, save for Quinn's heavy breathing.

"You're right." Agent Two eventually admitted. "If he commanded it, you've been doing the right thing. But with the Cap'n now gone, command falls to us as the senior agents."

Quinn's grip threatened to snap the phone's receiver in half. He already knew what she was going to say. This entire time, she's been treating him like a child. No respect, no faith in his capabilities whatsoever. There was no chance she wanted him doing anything without supervision.

"As acting commanders of the New Squidbeak Splatoon, Agent One and I command you to stay out of the domes. Keep tabs on their movement from the surface if you must but do NOT venture into the domes until we return. We'll check in with you when we get the chance to. Do I make myself clear, Agent?"

There was a pause, a long pause before he gave his answer. "Yes Ma'am." Quinn answered, coldly.

"Good. Now go rest. We'll check in with you tomorrow."

Quinn gently set the phone on its holder, ending the call. They don't know a damn thing. From what it sounds like, they hardly even have proper combat experience. He wasn't going to sit on his ass for the next several weeks. Not while The Captain was held captive. Not while this entire thing was his fault. Tonight he would rest. Tomorrow, he would kiss up to and agree with whatever the other Agents demanded of him. The next day, he would ignore his agreements and make his own moves.

He wasn't sure if he could really save The Captain by himself, but he sure as hell could make life hell for the soldiers who took him. Tomorrow, he'd need to stop in with Sheldon to get new bombs, maybe some preliminary repairs on the Hero Shot. He needs his gear in as good of a shape as he can get it, it might be a while until he's in a position to get it fixed again.