"Heads up barracks 12, 10 minutes until departure!" Coordinator Yuriko's sugar sweet voice instructed through the staticky intercom.
Arai barely heard the warning, instead focusing on tying her boots. While she'd been lucky enough to avoid getting injured in the chaos immediately after the event, the bruise Agent 3 gave her basically put her in the same boat as everyone else; sore and grumpy.
"UUghghg..." Arai groaned as she lazily shuffled through her chest.
"Ohh..." Ramona cooed as they sank to the floor next to her. "Is your shoulder still sore?" They carefully massaged Alibi's shoulder with their hands as they settled on the floor.
Arai barely paid them any mind. She ran through the preparation checklist in her mind: Boots... armor... holster... belt... gloves... no gloves. She wordlessly dropped to her knees and opened her chest by the foot of her bed.
"Ahh.. thank you 'Mo... but that's not what I'm upset about."
"What's wrong then?"
"I kinda forgot what it was like to have days off... and now I don't wanna go back."
"Ally, you're starting to sound like Arai." Ramona bemusedly told her.
"No, I know. It's just... 3 days without any drills. It was nice to not have to throw ourselves at it for once." Alibi finally pulled whatever it was out of her chest, and closed it.
"You're not wrong. We used to get two days off a week, never back to back though." Ramona jumped out of the floor, so they could help Alibi to her feet. "I missed having that downtime to spend with you." They checked themself over, presumably running through the checklist, before sitting down on Alibi's bed and patting the space beside them. "Speaking of..."
"Oh, you!" Alibi let out one of her chittering giggles and jumped onto the bed beside them. She snuggled in close, resting her head comfortably in the crook of Ramona's neck, wrapping her arms around them in the meanwhile.
That behavior would have made Arai's blood boil a week ago. She did still feel a spike of warmth every time they got like this; a lingering revulsion, and distaste for their sickening infatuation with each other. Despite this, she just couldn't bring herself to react anymore. Over the last three days, she'd had time to think about things, for better or for worse. Not that she'd wanted to, but there was a certain amount of introspection that was required after witnessing the leader of her people fail to stop an inkling with nothing but a modified octoshot despite piloting the most advanced military equipment they'd ever built underground. Octavio embodied the military, the very cause Arai had dedicated her life to, and seeing him fail so spectacularly killed her already draining faith in that system, and Arai's anger with it.
It was only after she felt the familiar boiling heat finally left her veins did she really understand what it even was. She'd been mad because she wanted that cause to be better. All the inefficiencies and operational problems made so much extra work that she'd had to deal with, that's why she'd been so upset all the time. Arai wanted things to be better, but now she doubted that would ever actually happen, so why bother fighting against it?
Where did that leave her now? Trapped in a doomed system with no means of recourse or escape. Still subject to the same tribulations that tormented her day in and day out. Serving a military with a goal she couldn't find it within herself to believe in anymore? Was there even anything left for her?
Someone cleared their throat from above her. "Arai? Are you doing ok?"
Arai zoned back into the world. She was still bent into her chest, though she'd long since stopped searching for the gloves she'd set on the ground beside her. She slowly pulled her head back, and closed the lid, only to see Alibi standing a few steps away, with a nervous look on her face.
"It's just... you've been so quiet. We thought you were maybe just enjoying the time off in your own way, but even then..."
"I'm fine." Arai replied, blunt as ever.
"No, girl, this isn't a 'brush it off' kinda thing." Ramona slipped off the bed, joining Alibi with their hands on their hips. " A week ago you were denting your bed frame anytime any one of us so much as thought about Agent 3. Now, you're barely even talking!"
Alibi offered a hand to help her up, which Arai begrudgingly took after picking up her gloves. "We all saw what happened... that day. That's not something you just forget about, no matter what command is going to want from us."
Arai shook her head. "It's..." She hesitated for a moment, weighing her thoughts "I don't care anymore." is all she said.
Ramona and Alibi shared a look. "Well... we saw it too. If you ever want to talk about it, we're just a bed away."
"Thanks." She put on her gloves and stood back up.
She didn't have anything. Her faith in the system may have crumbled, and taken her drive with it, but she still had her Unit. It wasn't a family, as much as it was a gaggle of trauma-bound coworkers, but there was a care and trust between all of them that wasn't matched by anyone else she knew. They'd all been there for her, in one way or another, while she'd been at her worst to them, the least she could do now was stick with them when things got hard.
It was for that reason that Arai was preparing for the drills like normal. Her unit still needed her, and they were the only people she still cared about.
Someone knocked on the door, and she reached back to open it. Kirian stood in the doorway, looking in with a keen eye. "Weapon closets are opening, are you all ready?"
"Yeah." Arai answered, her voice flat. They both turned to look back at Ramona and Alibi, who were busy fawning over each other while pretending to pack the mechanical bag.
Kirian tried to share a look with her, but Arai couldn't find it within herself to disparage the couple anymore. They were each other's reason for going on, and in a roundabout way, their motivation made Arai feel a bit more capable herself, even if they were gross about it.
Instead, she gave him a shrug. "We'll be out in a moment."
"Don't take much longer. Imari's definitely still pissed about her foot, so don't push her buttons." He left the door with a wave, and Arai let it close. She didn't have anything else to do but wait, so she sat on the edge of Imari's bed, since her's was the top bunk and not worth climbing up into, and waited for her companions to finish clawing at each other and putting their boots on.
A few minutes later, they were joining the crowd streaming out into the hallway. Arai waited until she could pull her weapon from the weapons closet, and wandered her way over to a mirror. She slid the metal clip off the back of her octoshot, and used it to pull her back tentacles up into a ponytail. She took a moment to adjust it so it wasn't pulling too tight, and then mentally commanded her ink color to shift to the same magenta as everyone else.
Her unit assembled in front of their room over the span of several minutes. All seven of them fell into position, standing in order, but lax until...
"UNIT 12-C7! ON ME!" Imari's shout cut through the noise of the hallway. Arai and her unit snapped to attention, weapons drawn but not aimed or loaded. Almost half the barracks joined them in formation out of fear.
"Leader Mizuta, Ma'am!" All seven of unit 12-C-7 responded as one, saluting in sync. Imari stalked up from behind them. It was clear as day that she was pissed about something, more so than she'd ever been before. There was a cast around her foot, and two crutches to help her walk, but something as simple as a broken ankle wasn't going to stop her from doing her job.
"OUT THE DOOR, ON MY MARCH!" She practically growled as she worked her way down the hallway.
"Ma'am!" Unit 12-C7 cried in sync, marching as they would if Imari was leading them straight out the door. Let's just get today over with, then.
Waking up was a slow, relaxing process these days. Quinn idly scratched at an itch on his arm as he sat up in his bed, looking around his room bleary eyed. Amidst a half-full bookshelf, a desk covered in different materials, curtains closed over the window, the phone he'd barely touched since he got it for squidmas, and a few posters he'd picked out to put on his walls, he located his turf gear. His room might still be somewhat empty, but that was by design now, since he was rather minimalistic in his needs.
He slowly worked his way out of the bed, and through the bathroom to get ready for the day. Callie and Marie were already out for the morning, filming the next week's worth of news segments, so there wasn't anyone to rush through anything this morning. A few slow minutes later he was eating a few slices of leftover pizza for breakfast. So far, his favorite was just plain pepperoni, though a few other toppings were growing on him. When he was done, he took a bit to run the vacuum cleaner around the apartment, before marking the chore off the list stuck to the fridge with a magnet, before returning to his room.
A few moments later, he emerged dressed in turf gear, carrying a still kind of new Splattershot Pro in his hand. After the fight with Octavio, it took a lot more than some kids with a Jr. to shake him, so turfing had lost a lot of the excitement it once held. Plus, there was a slew of new regulations being rolled out from the Turf Authority, and with plenty more looming on the horizon, he didn't really feel the urge to get back into it with any real vigor. It was mostly a social outlet for him now, if not a way to get a bit of pocket change. Though, with Callie and Marie practically begging him to take their cash, there wasn't really a need for that either.
Today, he was off to play some games with his friends on the Screenwipe team. It was always nice to see them, and play in some higher-level coordinated games, rather than just standard turf. All in all, they got 5 games in, pulling an impressive 4 wins in the process, while Quinn also managed to preserve a small streak of games where he'd yet to be splatted.
With his warm up exercise out of the way, he turned his attention towards his Agent work. Step one was getting through the grate, of course. Developments within the city had seen foot traffic through the Plaza start to shrink, but there were still enough people coming and going that it took a few minutes to get through the grate. He emerged onto the picturesque plateau a few moments later, savoring the cooling breeze for a moment before making his way into the cabin.
Inside, he called out to The Captain, who was in the kitchen preparing something, before sliding into the study. Spread out over the center table was a sprawling, comprehensive map of the domes. A real one, not the hack job he'd slapped together back during the stakeouts. Well, it was half of a comprehensive map. Maybe. Ok a little bit less than half; the interior domes— with the exception of the performance dome and the space around it— and the distant dome clusters near The Cape and The Valley were still severely under-mapped. The only information he had was either decades old, or missing all together, which made making a comprehensive map difficult. Still, even with the missing sections, it was the closest thing that had ever been put together, and if he lowered his standards, gave a pretty reliable look at 60-ish% of the domes.
There'd been some talk about preparing some excursions out to those areas, obviously for other things in addition to mapping, but those ideas hadn't left the 'sticky note on the pin board' phase yet, on account of Agents One and Two being busy with their careers still. Soon, though, he'd finish his map. Soon...
For now, though, he just needed to do a basic patrol to make sure through the areas he did know well, just to make sure there was nothing amiss. But first, lunch. "Ah, there ya are lad! Nearly done here if ya gimme a second, I'm makin’ soup!"
An hour later, he was out the door, properly geared up in the Hero Suit. It hadn't received any changes since the fight, but The Captain did have a portable radio he kept on hand. It wasn't the same extensive tracking setup they'd initially started with, but it gave Quinn a way to radio in critical information, or to call for help without keeping a line permanently open between them for free monitoring from the Octavians.
Into the kettle he went, passing through the same abandoned city he set foot into so long ago. Though nothing had changed since that day, the place had a different feeling about it now. Maybe it was reflecting his shift in confidence, or the attitudes of the soldiers down here, or he could even be completely imagining the feeling. Regardless, he pushed onwards, quickly slipping into the familiar caves to begin checking in on activity.
Three hours of steady work pass in a breeze, and before he knows it' Quinn's writing down what he saw in their logs, before waving to The Captain to head back to Inkopolis. That was the end of what he had to do for the day, short of a non-critical grocery run, so he figured it was best to hit that, and then head back to the apartment. Callie and Marie should be done filming by now, and it was more likely than not that they wanted to take him out somewhere in the city, which would be a fine way to close out the day.
He ran through a convenience store on the way home for those few items, waved to Chuck as he picked his way across the lobby over to the stairs, and walked back inside the apartment. Indeed, he had been right, Callie was laid out across the couch scrolling through her phone, while Marie bustled around in the kitchen.
"Quinn!" Callie gave him a lazy wave as he closed the door.
"I'm back. How'd the recording go?"
"Boring as ever! But, there's some good news from it at least." Callie wriggled for a moment, spinning until she was upright and leaning over the back of the couch. "Marie! Come tell him what's going on."
"You tell him! I'm busy!" Marie shouted back. Quinn looked into the kitchen to see Marie sat at the center island eating chips, most certainly not busy.
"Get your butt over here!" Callie called, snapping her fingers.
Marie chuckled. "Ok, fine." She plucked a final chip, tossing it into her mouth while she wrapped the top of the bag and put a clip on it. "So, hopefully you remember our little side job of hosting the news."
Quinn gave her a flat look. "Really? I never knew."
"Well, now you do. Anyway, our contract is close to running out, but this time, because our tenure has been so popular, we're getting a special splatfest themed around us. Somehow. It's like a final ratings boost for the news."
"Seems a bit early to be talking about that." Quinn frowned. "You've still got a few months left don't you?"
"Well, we do, but since this is gonna be a big event, production is starting a lot earlier so we have extra time to get everything done."
"Crazy, right!?" Callie bounded to her feet, walking next to Marie. "What do you think it's gonna be!? I think they're gonna rerun Rice vs. Bread, cuz it was our first splatfest."
"No, it'll be something related to our brand. I wouldn't be surprised if it something as banal as pitting two of our songs against one another." Marie paused, idly tapping her finger against her chin. "Honestly, that's probably what it is. That way we have a comfortable amount of time to rerecord them."
Quinn regarded the two for a moment. "You both seem pretty happy about this."
"I mean, there's no better way to leave a job like this than with a massive reputation boost." Marie shrugged. "Basically guarantees we'll get something immediately after, if we want it."
"That's true." Quinn conceded. "Actually, that's a good question. What are you guys planning on doing after this. You've only got three months until you're jobless."
"Hey!" Callie pointed at him. "Not jobless. We're still world renowned musicians. We could probably ride royalty sales until we die if we went ultra frugal."
Quinn smirked. "Nearly jobless, then. Still, what are you guys gonna do?"
That caused both idols to stop and think. Based on the furrowing brows, and lack of response, it wasn't hard to tell they hadn't thought about it any. He shook his head good-naturedly, and slipped past them to put the groceries away. Or at least, he was, until Callie grabbed his arm, while Marie reached into his bag.
"Really, Quinn? Granola bars!? Still?" She held out the box and gave him a scowl.
"Yeah, they're cheap and they have a long shelf life." Quinn snatched the box back from her and matched up to the pantry.
"You don't even like those things!" Callie threw her hands in the air. "You can get anything, why do you keep going for those things!"
He paused in the open pantry, turning back to look at her. "They're cheap... and they have a long shelf life." He repeated, as he shoved the box onto the lowest shelf, where it joined three or four boxes just like it. "That doesn't matter, you're not getting out of this question. What are you guys gonna do after you're booted from the news?"
"Well..." Marie stalled by looking around the room. "We're still looking for things to do as a duo, given that's kind of, the entire brand, you know?"
At the same time Marie started talking again, Callie opened her mouth as well. "I think I want to get into acting."
The two stopped. "Acting?" Marie asked.
"Yeah! I've wanted to be an actor since I was little, remember?"
"You wanted to be a lot of things, including a singer."
"Exactly! I got one, well Two, actually, because I wanted to be on TV, so now it's onto number 3!" Callie cheered, but a sour note hung in the air. She turned to look back at Marie, who had a blank look on her face. "Is there something wrong with acting?"
Marie jolted. "Oh, no, nothing's wrong with it! I..." Her facade broke, and she averted her eyes from Callie. "I, uh... really don't want to act."
Callie's eyes widened for a moment, before she slapped herself in the forehead. "Right, the anxiety thing, sorry I forgot. It's just a thought for now, I don't really have anything in mind." She was interrupted by a buzz from her phone. "Well, we can worry about it later, because we just got the email!"
"The email?" Quinn asked the duo as he wandered back into the living room.
"The splatfest theme." Marie answered, as she leaned in to look at Callie's screen.
Quinn stepped behind them, popping up onto his toes to peer over the duo's hunched shoulders. He felt ice form around his hearts as he stared down at the screen. Callie's grip on her phone tightened, her claws digging into the cheap plastic hard enough for it to crack. At the same time, Marie's spots along her body started to glow, bright, and powerful.
Plain as day, in large bold lettering, was the splatfest theme for the Squid Sisters final fest:
Callie vs. Marie