The Squidbeak Captain was gone. His absence completely stop Marina's thoughts as she stared at his empty cell. He's... gone? Who took him? She shook her head to try and get her thoughts under control. I don't have time for this. I have to... I...

She was minutes away from leading the final sprint of work on the Octobot King. There was less than four hours until showtime, and there was still an inordinate amount of fixes that needed done. Hundreds of people were waiting for her orders; every single engineer under the screens, and then several dozen soldiers deemed competent enough to hold a wrench straight to bolster their numbers.

The Head Engineer should be prepared to lead those below her at any time. As befitting a position of authority, she must be prepared to wield it at a moment's notice for the betterment of the domes.

And Marina wanted to run away from it all.

"Why'da have to do it?"

The missing Captain's words still echoed through her mind, even as she gathered the last of her blueprints. No, she wasn't going to see this through. She couldn't. It was all too much. Way too much. Her breathing quickly became erratic, desperate gulps of air that barely did anything to stop her head from spinning. The blueprints crinkled as her grip reflexively tightened; anything to get a grip on the world around her.

There was no way to know what would come after this show, but that didn't matter. Marina needed to get away now.

"Marina, ya can't keep doin this to yerself. It ain't right."

But she couldn't just walk away. If the Head Engineer went missing, or worse, didn't show up to begin with, it'd trigger searches across the domes. The Head Engineer was responsible, after all. If she wasn't where people expected her to be, there was obviously a good reason why she wasn't there. Only, there was no reason Marina could give them. This was the most important event of her lifetime, any excuse for her absence wouldn't measure up.

Abusing that very thought was how she'd been sneaking down to see Acht. No one would look for her if there was an easier explanation.

The Head Engineer must be diligent in directing her focus to her work, as it is crucial for the betterment of life within the domes.

"That's why THEY want ya to do it. Why are YOU doing it?"

Blueslates, blueprints, and several more documents clutched to her chest, Marina pushed her way out of her lab.

"Head Engineer, Ma'am!"

The sudden noise nearly made reel backwards so quickly she nearly fell over. Tamae was waiting for her outside. Right, I told her to wait there. Just how badly did the Squidbeak Captain's absence rattle her?

"Engineer Tamassa, apologies. You startled me." Marina held up her free hand to silence the incoming torrent of apologies. "No need, I'm just a bit on edge, is all." It bothered her just how easily she could slot back into her role, despite her overwhelming need to escape it.

"Oh, it's no worry Ma'am! Anyone would be, with such a big project! N-not that you're not capable of handling it, that's not what I meant at all, it's just such a big event..."

Externally, Marina kept her face level as she started walking, motioning for Tamae to follow. Poor Tamae was so afraid of doing the wrong thing. The tiny 'infractions' didn't bother Marina in the slightest, but the Head Engineer couldn't accept them. A sinking feeling overcame her as she realized something. I've been awful to her, haven't I?

"Engineer," Marina kept her voice level. "It's alright. We're all a little wound up today."

Relief shined in Tamae's eyes, and she didn't say a word further for the time being.

They quickly made it down the elevator, and wove their way through the ground floor hallways. There was a transport truck waiting for them inside the building. Use of the trucks had been mostly phased out in favor of her flooders, on account of the noise and air pollution they created. With the day's events on such a tight schedule though, some concessions had been made. The truck itself was native to the domes, brought back to life by one of the Original Engineers and diligently serviced since. It was one of two styles; this one the significantly larger of the two, colored a very dull green and with six wheels total.

Marina and Tamae climbed into the covered back of the truck, taking a seat on the benches that lined the sides. Marina knocked on the driver's cab, and the large doors on the side of Central Command started to rattle its way open. A few agonizing seconds of waiting later, and they were out, on their way to the performance dome.

The Head Engineer should use every resource at her disposal to ensure the betterment of the domes.

The Head Engineer should be capable of doing what must be done for the domes.

"All this, why're you pushing yourself so far?"

There was no conversation during the ride. The truck turned into the dome, and soon followed a series of two ramps down from the top of the dome where all the soldiers were gathered, to the bottom. There was nothing said as they stepped out of the truck, nor as they wound their way into the backstage area properly, where all the engineers were waiting.

The Performance dome was a massive structure, which was essentially a singular, massive stage. The space was big enough that the entire population could comfortably stand on the main stage with room to spare. The space was, by design, incredibly plain and empty. Troves of materials in the backstage area made it obvious how the space was supposed to be sectioned, divided, and customized time and time again to suit the performer's needs. Many of those materials had already been repurposed throughout the domes, and a large amount of the remaining materials had been utilized in this very project.

There were two sets of seating that surrounded the stage that encircled the entire dome; one was way up in the air, providing a nearly unimpeded view of the entire stage area, while the other was much lower, giving a more on-level, but still areal view of the stage. TV screens, different from the sky screens, were hung nearly everywhere, in place to stream zoomed in shots of the show for the people in the stands too far to see well. Below that seating, there was an extensive network of tunnels and rooms, effectively the "backstage" area, only it encompassed the entire edge of the dome. The access it provided to the show floor was nearly unlimited, only blocked by the support pillars and hallway walls.

The decorations they'd set up themselves were simple in concept, if not execution. The lights were significantly dimmed, which shrouded the entire stage in darkness. Dozens of massive tentacle-shaped structures were set up on the stage, so large they could reach the top of the domes, if not for the ways they were designed to twist and curl. Each tentacle had dozens of speakers in it, all carefully placed and angled to distribute sound evenly through the crowds. An uncountable number of spotlights highlighted a cluster platform floating level high above the first set of seats. They hung hundreds of meters into the air, just on level for the empty second level to have a clear view. A thin, snaking pathway came off that platform, though the light were not highlighting it. If all went to plan, Agent 3 would be chased down that pathway until there was nowhere left for him to run. On the stage floor, the nearly complete Octobot King sat, shrouded in darkness, waiting for engineers to swarm over it.

Marina, with Tamae in tow, walked into one of the 'backstage' rooms, where all the engineers were gathered, waiting. Dozens of packs lined the edges of the room, with weapons laid beside them. Some of the packs also had armor next to them, a smart decision given many of them would be welding or working with magnets.

The Head Engineer should speak with confidence about the good her work has and will bring to the people of the domes.

"Bah! Fishpaste. Any old engineer could do that. Why is it YOU, Marina? Why is it just you?"

The Head Engineer should be prepared to lead those below her at any time. As befitting a position of authority, she must be prepared to wield it at a moment's notice for the betterment of the domes.

"Bullsquid! People lived a hundred years down here before you stepped in.

The Head Engineer should speak with confidence about the good her work has and will bring to the people of the domes.

"Ya have to stop."

The hoards of engineers quickly funneled out the door, tools in hand. 5 people walked up to her desk, joining Tamae to make the 6 chief engineers; the rank directly below her. "Ma'am!" They announced in unison.

"I'm tasking the six of you with overseeing the completion of this project." She set her blueprints, blueslates, a and notes out on the table in front of her. "None of this should be new information to any of you. I am going to oversee transportation of the Great Zapfish. Is that understood?"

"Yes Ma'am!"

"Is there any questions?"

"No Ma'am!"

"Good. Take these with you, and make the domes proud." All six Chief Engineers saluted her, and started towards the door. Tamae grabbed the items off the desk and followed them shortly after.

Marina waited thirty seconds after everyone left the room before breathing a sigh of relief. Oh, thank the stars that's over. Her alibi was set, all she had to do now was get away. She pulled out her pager to check if Acht had sent her any messages yet.

The Head Engineer should be capable of doing what must be done for the domes.

There wasn't—

The Head Engineer must be willing to sacrifice everything she has for the domes. The position is, after all, a blessing.

She couldn't—

"Hey, don't sweat it."

Excluding the Octostomp, it'd been years since she'd had a plan objectively fail. The last time she could really remember it happening was... all the way back in school. It'd been an engineering problem designed for the top-level students about to graduate. She had, of course, nearly managed to solve it at nine years old, but there was one part that she just couldn't figure out, no matter how hard she tried.

"Things can get stressful when you don't know what's going on."

She'd been minutes from giving up, from throwing her slate across the room and having a breakdown, when the voice of her closest friend had cut through the fog in her mind.

"But that's ok. The world's not always going to go perfectly, you know? Just take a step back from it, breathe, and go at it from a new angle or something."

She wasn't going to give in. She could do this. It just required adapting the plan a little bit.

"You got this."

Marina looked along the edge of the room, until her eyes fixed on one of the packs that had armor next to it. While her current sash-style armor was becoming more common, it was still mostly exclusive to the upper ranked and specialty squads of soldiers. Wearing it into the crowd might as well be shining a spotlight for anyone trying to find her.

She rushed over to the armor, and inspected the bag next to it. It was a standard issue engineer's bag. Spacious enough to hold tools and small bits of scrap, or in this case, armor. She couldn't swap her own set out yet, as she still had to get Acht out of her work now. Still several tools were in the bag she'd grabbed, but there wasn't time to sort anything out. She threw the piece of armor on top of it, and then a second one for Acht, before barely managing to pull the zipper closed. With that, she slung the pack onto her back, and started running.

She needed to get to the edge of the dome, at the lower level of seats. Like every dome, there were several small, hidden rooms along the edge, hidden just behind the screens. Typically, these rooms had catwalks running to them, but luckily, because of this dome's unique construction, it was much easier to access. That had to be the 'server room to the side' that Acht mentioned.

Each of those rooms were filled to the brim with ancient human computer systems. They knew that the systems inside each controlled the functions of the dome itself, from the sky screens to the life support, but the actual specific functionalizes were still unknown to them. Neigh impenetrable security made it nearly impossible to break their way into the system, only made worse by the entire thing being written in a language they could barely understand.

There was one exception to this rule, though. Here, in the Performance dome, some of those systems were unprotected. Control over the lighting, sky screens, and even the temperature was unlocked, likely to make customizing the dome for performances much easier. That open nature was how they'd connected the speakers and screens to their own technology, and turn off the sky to increase the dark atmosphere.

There was only one system in the Performance dome, so it had to be where Acht was. But what if they're having her install a new system somewhere else? What do I do then? Her breathing picked up as she ran, both from the weight of her pack, and the growing worry in her hearts.

She met the first major hurdle almost immediately upon reaching the lower, empty layer of seats. It was incredibly dark, with the only light being what little dared bleed down from the . It was enough to see by, but only just barely.

"Who's there?" A roaming guard asked with a stern voice.

"Eep!" Marina jumped, startled by the sudden sound. No, no! Keep it together. She quickly composed herself, focusing on keeping her voice and face level. "I need to speak to Technician Mizuta."

"Who's asking?" The guard was getting closer, and she didn't sound impressed.

The Head Engineer is a position that demands respect. She should expect to be treated as such.

Marina drew herself up as the figure of the guard approached. "Head Engineer Ida. This is a very time sensitive matter."

A few beats of silence passed before the guard clicked on a handheld light. "Apologies ma'am. It's hard to see in the darkness."

"You're forgiven. Mizuta is working on this floor, yes?"

"She is, ma'am."

"Take me to her."

With a nod the guard turned and started walking. Marina let out a silent sigh of relief as she fell into step behind her.

"If you don't mind me asking, ma'am... what exactly do you need with Technician Mizuta? She is just a standard technician, would it not be better to to go to someone else in the Development office?"

The audacity of the question actually left Marina stunned for a moment. Not only was it inherently disrespectful to question the decision of someone of her position, but the question itself was simultaneously so uninformed and presumptuous that it actually made her jaw clench for a few brief seconds.

Marina cleared her throat. "Technician Mizuta is the only technician to actually install a proper system in the domes over the past three years. Even before that, her understanding of the systems and their components, consistency and speed of installs, and response time was far higher than any of her peers. When it comes to matters that I am not myself fully confident in, I defer to people to do know what they're talking about. Now, may I see technician Mizuta, or will I have to explain to General Octavio why the speakers on the Octobot King are only for decoration?"

"Apologies, ma'am." Imari didn't speak after that, but Marina could tell her ego was bruised slightly. Good. Serves her right for that. How did she end up on patrol down here anyway? I thought she was part of the team responsible for bringing everyone here?

There was no time to answer the question, though, as Marina was walked up to the edge of the seating. A small hallway lead to an open door with light spilling out from it. Marina continued forward, but stopped before walking inside. Imari was still standing nearby, watching.

"Thank you..."

"Unit 12-C7 leader, Imari Mizuta, ma'am."

"Huh... how about that." Marina smiled lightly. "Thank you, Leader Mizuta. That will be all." Imari nodded, and turned away as Marina walked into the room.

It was a cramped space, barely big enough for her to spread her arms out in. Ancient computers lined the walls, an untold number of wires and cords threaded around switches, buttons, and knobs. Flashing lights of every color sparkled from every console, with labels written in long forgotten languages underneath each one. Two large stacks of dull green Octavian computers were delicately plugged into the human system via wires. Their own technology was not nearly so flashy, with only two yellow lights to indicate operational status, and no labels anywhere to be found. At the end of the room, Ahato was near a large console screen and keyboard, staring up at her with stars in her eyes. She had heard the conversation outside.

"Technician Mizuta," Marina started. Ahato still flinched at the title, but it was obvious she understood the circumstances. "I need to speak with you urgently about a systems issue."

Ahato scoffed, giving her a sarcastic smile. "What'd you tech freaks break this time?

"I'm having a wireless communications problem with the Octobot King's onboard speaker system." Marina offered her hand to help Ahato up. "I've cycled through all of our standards, but no matter what I do I can't connect with the central system, which is in here, no?"

Ahato didn't know what the Octobot king was, but she didn't let that phase her. "Well, you're not wrong, but it's really more of a remote tunnel from our own system to the controller. That would explain why you're not getting a connection, since you need to be connecting to the human system."

"I wasn't told about this change." That much was true. Marina wasn't actually in charge of connecting the speaker systems, but she was still somewhat upset that she wasn't informed about it."

"It's alright." Ahato shrugged. "I figured something like that might happen. I was actually installing a receiver into the system directly, just in case that happened."

"Excellent work Technician! Moments like this are why I keep coming to you for assistance."

"It's nothing, miss Head Engineer. Only one problem, this thing's a direct connection at the moment. If I'd of been told about this sooner, I would have made it an open one, but as this was something of a 'spur of the moment' decision, it's the best I got."

"That's fine, we'll just go plug the system in directly, then. Come, follow me down, we'll move quickly."

"Ma'am!"

They both left the room at a sprint. Imari was indeed outside, though she had distanced herself far enough away that she could plausibly deny listening in. Neither of them paid her any mind as they ran for the stairs.

It was obvious that today was going to be different the moment half a unit of elite soldiers walked through the lab door. They were an irritable looking bunch that gave him an even worse glare than he usually got.

Interestingly, Miss Ida was not among them. She'd been gone a lot recently, more than he'd expect given her work, at least. He wasn't always awake when she was here, but the few times he'd seen her leave, she had looked like she was about to cry she was so nervous. He had considered reaching out, and trying to say something to her, but decided against it. Whatever she was grappling with now was her fight; he'd already said his part, and he didn't want to push the tentative peace they'd brokered. Against all odds, Craig hoped she was running off to meet her friends away from work, but he knew that was a faint hope.

Craig started up the 'confused old man' routine he'd been leaning on for the past month. Predictably, the soldiers were not amused, but he had something of a reputation at this point and there wasn't any reason to give that up. Whatever the occasion was clearly had them all on edge, so he only really laid the act on thick until one of them gave in and got him a cane. As soon as he started to play along, they herded him right out of the room and through the halls. Again it was obvious that they were horribly impatient, he could see their frustration with his slow pace as clear as day.

Every soldier they passed turned to stare at him. Most were watching him with a passive interest, but there were enough intense, piercing gazes in the crowds that the sentiment was obvious. The attention didn't bother Craig; that kind of thing hadn't gotten under his skin in a long time. Not after so many Kensa family gatherin's at least. These kids might as well be smilin at me.

Still, being paraded through the enemy headquarters didn't exactly feel good, no matter how strong Craig's public confidence was. He assumed they were going to take him up to see Octavio. From what he could glean, no one else should have the authority to yank him around like this, so it confused him when the elevator went down instead of up. Maybe there's a speech or demonstration outside he wants to wave me around at. Except, again, they jumped his expectations and took him further into the building, rather than out. At that point he gave up on guessing where they were going.

Whatever's goin on's really got everyone up in arms. He didn't want to acknowledge what was happening. Craig knew. He knew what was happening. He'd seen the blueprints Marina made. He knew Octavio was going to make a move sooner or later. It wasn't hard to put two and two together. With how hoard the boy's been pushin him recently...

His fears were only further confirmed as he was walked towards a genuine human-era military convoy truck. They sat him in the back row of the cabin, stuck between two soldiers, as the leader of the squad sat shotgun. Not a word was spoken for several minutes. Eventually, the truck shifted with the weight of one— no, two— people climbing into the back. A loud knock startled everyone but Craig and the driver. The leader exchanged a nod with the driver, who pressed a button loosely hanging off of the truck's sun visor. The large door on the side of the building began to rattle open, while the two in the outer structure followed a few moments later. With a lurch, the truck started forward.

Craig could hardly see anything from where he was sat. The windows were all darkened and the soldiers didn't exactly seem like the type to lean back and give the old man a view. The only real thing he could see was the rear view mirror, and the face of the leader in it. He wasn't young, at least, not by comparison. Definitely younger than Craig's own son, maybe thirty years old.

All the same, a deep pain struck his hearts and he let out a mournful sigh. All of this, because some old crooks couldn't get over themselves. These kids shouldn't be stuck here. They don't deserve this fate. This poor kid shouldn't be leading soldiers to battle. Marina shouldn't be destroying herself to make weapons. His grandson shouldn't be fighting units of soldiers all by himself. His granddaughters shouldn't be forced to give up their careers to fight in a war.

That's what it always came back to. Craig chuckled bitterly to himself, drawing glares from the soldiers in the process. What he thought didn't matter in the end; they were here, and they were fighting. The only thing he could do was mourn the loss of a world where he'd made better choices back then. Maybe, then, things could have been better.

The ride in the truck did not last long. Only a few short minutes passed before Craig was blinded by the interior light turning on as a door opened. He was shuffled out by the soldiers, who seemed even more impatient than before, and forced to stumble back out into darkness before his eyes could adjust.

Something massive towered in the space next to him. He didn't need to see to know what it was. Dozens of small lights blinked on and off around the structure as soldiers scampered around, working on the mechanical monstrosity that was slowly coming into focus. He was forced to look away when the bright spray of a welding torch cut through the darkness, leaving spots in his vision for several seconds.

A small, round platform was set aside from everything else, with only a chair in the center. He was directed towards it by a soldier holding a spool of rope. With a reluctant sigh, Craig walked to the chair and prepared himself to get tied to it. It wasn't necessary, not by any means, a simple form change could get him out of the ropes in an instant. It was all part of Octavio's performance. Everyone knew he couldn't run away, not from here, with this many soldiers around, but the message and the visual were more important than any practicality.

The moment he was secure, the soldiers sprinted off, leaving him alone. His vision was still spotty, but he could hear just fine. They left the cane he'd forced them to get him on the ground in front of him, just outside his reach. From his chair, he could hear the mechanical clicks and whirs of the soldiers work. The sounds of footfalls as others ran around. An indeterminate wall of sound coming from somewhere high above, the kind that can only come from a mass of people.

Craig knew what he was looking at. A weapon. The weapon he'd tried to warn his kids about. The one he watched Marina destroy herself to make. At least I can't see her anywhere in the crowd. Maybe she did run off...

Craig sat, stiff and rigid, watching the work with sullen eyes. Footsteps approached him, much more measured and methodical than the soldiers running around. He didn't look up as they stopped beside him; he already knew who was there.

"Cuttlefish."

"Octavio."

Things were silent for an agonizingly long time. "What do you think?" Octavio finally asked in Octarian.

"It's horrible." Craig kept his gaze forward, fixed on the machine.

"Ha... come now." The low bass of Octavio's voice touched a part of Craig's soul that had been dormant for years. "That's a bit cruel, don't you think?"

Craig's hands tightened to fists at his sides. "That ya could take somethin as sacred as performance, and pervert it like this..." He finally broke his gaze, turning to stare straight into Octavio's green eyes. "Yer a mockery of tha man I once knew."

Octavio sighed, the sound both comforting and empty, all at once. "I'm only doing what's best for us, Cuttlefish, not that I'd expect you to understand."

"Does that make ya any better then Ellias? Beta? Everyone we fought against ta stop this from happening? Isn't that the same thing he said with his hand around yer neck!? How could ya say that and expect me ta believe ya? "

Octavio paused, seemingly caught off guard by his words. "You... didn't used to be this well spoken."

"Times change. I've changed... you don't have to go through with this, Tavi. You can still make that change too."

"It's not that simple. There's more here than you'd understand."

The sudden switch to Inklish caught him off guard, but Craig didn't let it show. "Then tell me, Octavio, so we don't have to go through with this! Ya don't have to be this person."

Silence. All the sounds vanished. The soldiers had stopped working. The crowd above went quiet.

"I'm sorry, Cuttlefish, but this is the best I could do." Octavio turned, and walked towards the machine.

Silence, save for the sound of one man's footfalls.

"Please don't hurt my kids." Craig tried one final time. One final, selfish plea.

Octavio stopped walking, but continued a few moments later. Craig deflated, energy fleeing his body as the ghost of a man he once knew walked away.

He wasn't given much time to mourn, as the platform he was on suddenly jolted to life, and began quickly raising him upwards, into the lights above.

Octolings packed into seats that completely encircled the dome. It was basically a stadium, but on such a massive scale that it gave him vertigo. There had to be fifty thousand octolings in the seats below. Worse than the scale of things was the sound. That many people crammed into any amount of space make enough noise to cover any sound he made. Still, that wasn't any reason for him to get sloppy with his stealth.

Quinn peered through the gap between two screens, down into the arena below. A large platform was floating in the air, with dozens of spotlights shining down on it. He already knew that, from the brief recon earlier. The concerning part was the spotlights on the entrance. That made sense, he had made a whole performance out of accepting the challenge after all. It was supposed to be a show, and weather he went along with the act or not, there was a part for him to play.

Thankfully, that wasn't the only entrance. They rightfully assumed he'd use the tunnel connected to the military dome, rather than the one connected to the center dome. He'd never even been that close to the center dome, until now at least. There was still a bit of time before it felt like he was pushing things, and he fully intended to do as much to turn this fight in his favor as he could.

The performance dome was unique in a lot of ways. Most importantly right now, it was built in the middle of a cave so big, that the dome itself was fully exposed. That's how Quinn was so easily able to get on top of that center dome transition he was eyeing, and find the crack on top of it that had been highlighted in The Captain's notes. Even out here, above the tunnel leading out of the arena, the sheer volume of sound of everyone was impossible to miss.

Carefully, he swapped forms and lowered himself through the crack, just enough to get a peak at if anyone was inside. There wasn't any soldiers, but there was a pair of headlights a bit of a ways down. Quinn quickly pulled his head up before anyone spotted him, and waited for it to pass. Fascinatingly, it wasn't Octavian technology, but a human truck, presumably driven by Octavians. That made the headlights make sense at least.

When it passed, he peaked a second time to make sure there wasn't any other trucks, and slipped through the crack. Now in the empty transition, he reached for the hood of his camo cloak and pulled it over his head. With it obscuring his figure, he snuck down the hallway, towards the overbearing noise pouring from the entrance in front of him. As fast as he could physically move, he threw himself out of the entrance, shifting forms to be as small and hard to hit as possible. When he wasn't immediately splatted on sight, he pulled himself forward, before swapping forms again and crouch walking forward.

One careful step in front of the next. There were hundreds of soldiers not even ten meters away from him, and the only thing keeping him alive was none of them looking over their shoulder. The ceaseless drone of noise made it nearly impossible to hear anything, but Quinn still flinched with every tap of his shoes and every swish of his cloak.

He was walking along the same road that encircled every other dome. This one didn't have a gap on the outer rim like the others, though. Just a wall of solid concrete, with indicators written in a dead language occasionally painted on the side. There were no screens lining the walls in here, they were only along the ceiling. At a few points along the road, it would slope downwards, to whatever was on the layer below this one. That was his target.

Slowly, he worked his way to, and then down the nearest ramp. It was a surprisingly lengthy trip, but it eventually led into a second layer of seating. None of the lights were on, leaving his eyes struggling to make out anything but the faintest of outlines. Much better for moving fast, as long he could keep his noise down.

By his estimation, this second row of seats was at about on the halfway point vertically. That was perfect, because he was looking for one of the technical rooms along the side of every dome. Typically, these rooms what the catwalks were designed to connect, but this dome didn't have catwalks on account of all the seating. He was gambling on the room still being in the same relative place, just accessed differently. Callie's thumb drive weighed heavy in his pocket as he searched.

The distant thunk of boots on concrete echoed from ahead of him, the dull sound cutting through the buzz of the crowd. He'd been running for about five minutes now, so turning back really didn't feel like a good idea. Thinking quickly, he jumped down into the empty rows of seating, tucked himself against the floor, and draped the camo cloak over himself. With one eye peaking out, he held his breath as he waited to see who was making the noise.

A pair of octolings ran past, their movements obviously panicked. It was too dark to make out many details, but he could see that one of them was wearing a massive backpack. He could faintly hear their voices as they passed, but the echo of the massive crowd above prevented him from hearing anything they actually said.

After they passed, he was about to get up when his instincts told him to wait a moment longer. A few seconds passed, and then he heard it, between the shouts of the people above. More footsteps, coming down the outer ring. They were moving about as fast as the previous two, but much quieter. It was like they were trying to stay hidden. There wasn't any details he could make out, beyond scant reflections of their armor.

==When no other sounds reached him, he silently pushed himself off the ground and back up to the outer ring. Time was running out, he couldn't spend much longer down here. Weighing the risks, Quinn decided to abandon some stealth for speed. The still growing sound of the crowd above would cover his footsteps as long as he was still careful with his movements.

Three minutes of running, and he could see it in the distance. A dim blade of light cut through the darkness, leading down some kind of hallway. He slowed as he approached, pulling the Hero Shot out just in case there was someone inside. Carefully, he walked down the hallway and through the open door at the end of it.

There was no one inside. Hundreds of ancient human computers lined the walls, covered in blinking and flashing lights. A good dozen Octavian computers were stacked next to the human ones, with countless wires connecting the two systems. He scoured the Octavian computers for any slots to plug Callie's drive into, but there wasn't even any openings, much less slots shaped like the drive.

Quinn raised a hand to the Hero Headset. His hearts jumped and adrenaline flooded his body as he rested his finger against the switch. This got The Captain captured. This nearly got him killed. But now it was going to save him. He swallowed his resolve, and flicked the switch.

"—nection established! Quinn has turned on his headset!" Sheldon's voice crackled to life over the speakers.

"Oh, shit, alright!" There was sounds of frantic movement before Marie was suddenly right next to the mic. "Quinn! Are you alright!?"

"I'm fine, having some problems with the thumb drive though." Quinn pulled the drive out of his pocket and looked it over.

"Right, you handle this Sheldon, we need to finish this stage." A similar cacophony of noise followed Marie as she left.

"Oh, dear, that could cause some problems! What's wrong?"

"There's nowhere for me to plug it into the Octavian computers. I might have to plug it into the human systems directly." He briefly considered trying to scratch out the large 'C' written on the drive, but he decided against it. Even if it tied back to them, it would be pretty obvious where the foreign drive came from anyway,

"Ah." It was hard to get a read on Sheldon's feelings over the radio. "Well, that's certainly a less likely outcome, but if you can figure it out, then it's a much better one too! Plugging my control directly into the dome system itself would make it—"

"Kinda short on time here buddy."

"Right. You should still have the bag of converters I gave you, yes?"

"I do, yup." Quinn pulled the bag out of his pocket.

"Most of those are my best attempt at recreating Octavian computer plugs based on photos of their tech taken by Callie and Marie. However, there should be three in the bag that are marked with a small blue streak. Those are made for the human systems, though there's no guarantee if they'll work."

Sheldon continued to describe the history of the plugs while Quinn pulled the three blue marked converters. He scanned the room, before deciding that the most likely place he'd be able to connect something was right next to the large keyboard and screen, based on his time using the library computers. He held the converters up to the wall of holes, until he found one that matched. The bottom part of the converter was stopped up by plastic, while the top half of the port on the wall was also blocked. The converter slid in easily, almost making a little click as it did so.

"Alright, I found a port and plugged the converter in. I'm going to put the drive in now, ready?"

"I am!"

Quinn plugged the drive into the converter.

"I have connection! Give me a moment to see if I actually have access to the systems or if this is isolated."

With nothing to do but wait, Quinn readied the hero shot and took point by the door. The sound of the crowd found its way down the small hallway, putting him on edge. The pit in his stomach deepened as he thought about just how many people were outside. The sheer scale of the underground population never occurred to him, but seeing it now...

Was he doing the right thing?

Quinn wasn't blind. He could see the adversarial relationship between the Octavians and the domes themselves. How the failing infrastructure demanded they further dismantle their home to keep it functioning, yet simultaneously it resisted the Octavian's every attempt to utilize its mechanisms, no matter how basic, and often at the cost of lives. Who was he to take back these fish that were providing them means they didn't have?

Things got worse when he started recognizing people. Every single recent attack had soldiers he knew from previous fights. He danced the same dance with the same people, time and time again. He had been forced to see the effects of war on them in real time. Eager faces turned sullen and hollow. Clumsy, inefficient movements refined to, sharp, cutting motions. Dissatisfaction turned into impotent rage.

How many of the soldiers out there would he recognize if he looked at them all? Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands? The idea made his stomach twist.

Even with their practice, they could never catch him. The rigidity and structure of their training didn't give them the means to change their strategies in any meaningful ways. It didn't matter how quick a soldier was at flicking a roller if a bomb took them out well before they could bring it over their head. Why did they all have to perpetuate this war?

But that was the problem. It was a war. He wasn't underground for no reason. He couldn't in good conscious leave the zapfish with them to power projects designed to kill thousands. Almost all the zapfish he'd taken back were being used to power tools and infrastructure that existed to fight the war. And yet, here he was. The boy who single-handedly perpetuated the war for a over a month.

His equipment might say otherwise, but he was no hero. He just wanted the fighting to end, and this was his chance. All of the octolings he'd come to recognize were up in those stands. Tens of thousands of other soldiers were there with them, all prepared for the coming fight. Quinn was no hero, but he could put a stop to this all the same. With the zapfish gone, and confidence in Octavio at an all time low, maybe there was a chance for an ultimately peaceful resolution?

"Eureka!" Sheldon's cry of success broke him from his thoughts.

"Are you in?"

"That machine has full access! This is exactly what we needed!"

"Full access?" Callie's voice was distant and strained, but excited all the same.

"Yes! With this, we can broadcast the performance unimpeded! Oh, wow! It even has full control over the sky projection as well! They'll have no way to stop our stream short of turning the dome itself off!"

"Great!" Marie's voice was even more strained, like she was moving something heavy. "Our turn now... good job Quinn!" Her statement was punctuated by a heavy thud.

"Thanks, I'm retreating to a safe position now." He tried his best to leave the room exactly as it had been before. He looked back one final time. The thumb drive was practically invisible among the sea of multicolored cables and switches. He hoped it would be enough.

The trip back was uneventful, thankfully. Just a matter of patience, stealth, and speed. Only one guard, and a well telegraphed one thanks to the flashlight they were using. He was up and through the tunnel in a matter of minutes, pulling his way through the caves until he was sitting on top of the first transition. Just above where they were waiting for him.

"OK, I'm ready to go when you guys are."

"We're just about done with the stage, just need to hang the tarps and put up the lights!" Callie shouted towards the mic. "Take a few minutes to settle your nerves before the big fight!"

The upcoming hour weighed heavy on his mind. This fight was going to be unlike anything he'd ever done before. Evasive hit-and-run tactics wouldn't get him far, because he couldn't try to escape. He was willingly walking into a life or death situation, that basically gave him no choice but to lose, at least at first. Octavio had to have his show. If they attacked too early, it was just an NSS attack, not them one-upping the performance. They needed to specifically undermine Octavio's presence, and not just overwhelm it, or the plan wouldn't work fully.

Quinn grabbed his head and leaned forward. The whole thing felt impossible. They were betting on such a specific set of outcomes, on things going absolutely right for any chance to win. There was no choice, though. He had to take this fight no matter what. An itch he hadn't felt in weeks burned under his eye, but he didn't scratch at it. It was the only way to save the thousands of Inkopolis civilians that were unknowingly depending on him.

It was the only way to save The Captain.

"We've finished things on our end." Callie's voice was a lot clearer this time. They must be sitting at the table, ready to watch him through the cameras in the suit.

"Ok." Is all he said. He didn't move yet. He found it really hard to, all of the sudden. The weight of the future kept him pressed to the ground.

"Quinn?" Marie asked, her voice surprisingly gentle.

His breath hitched before he swallowed and forced out a shaky "Yeah?"

The line was silent for several seconds. "This is fucking terrifying dude..." Marie's voice too was a little shaky, though not as bad as his was. "I couldn't do this. I couldn't..." she stopped for a moment, clearing her throat before continuing in a more level voice. "I hate that you have to do this... but thank you. Thank you for saving our Grandpa."

Quinn was suddenly struggling with a lump in his throat. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes as he quickly stood, spurred on by the sudden emotion. "Yeah."

"GO KICK HIS BUTT BRO!!! YOU GOT THIS!! SHOW THAT OLD BASTARD THAT YOU DON'T MESS WITH THE CUTTLEFISH FAMILY!" Callie cheered as loud as she could. She was so loud, it picked up on Marie's microphone too, but the echo only served as more fuel for the fire lighting in his hearts.

Several seconds of shaky breathing pulled him to his feet. Deep, measured breaths steadied his balance. Careful, routine stretches loosened his stiff muscles. A set of practiced motions steadied his aim. It was showtime.

With the plan in place, Quinn wiggled through a crack in the tunnel's top, and slowly walked out into the dome. The crowd was louder than ever before. An unending, echoing cacophony of voices so dense it was impossible to make out any single sound in the mass.

As Quinn stepped out of the tunnel, across the outer ring, a dozen spotlights suddenly swiveled to point at him. He didn't stop, even as the sudden light made him flinch, continuing past the edge of the road and onto a small viewing platform that hung over some of the seats. Divots in the floor indicated that there were once guard rails here, but they had long since been removed.

It started with the closest people. Soldiers looked up to see what the lights were focused on, and froze upon seeing him, only moving to get their friend's attention. Slowly, more and more soldiers looked his way, and a hush staggered its way through the stands. His hearts beat wildly, and sweat beaded on his brow. Only sheer discipline kept his ink from fading to white and his face neutral as more and more soldiers turned to look at him.

And the dome fell silent.

He walked up to the edge of the platform, Hero Shot in hand. He could hear his footsteps echo as he walked. For a moment, he just stood there, looking out over the crowd. It was too dim to see faces, but he didn't need to. He'd already seen the sneers, the shock, and the hatred so many times before.

Quinn knew he wasn't the hero. Everybody here knew that was true.

And then, he jumped.