Thank the stars. Marina set her phone on the counter with a quiet sigh. Even if he hadn't texted back she wasn't going to show up, but it was nice to have the go ahead. Today's task was far, far too important to be put off even a single extra day.

The night had passed in a sleepless blur. Marina's nerves had been FAR to strung to let her relax, but sleepless nights were not a new thing to her. Pearl had woken up just after the sun rose, but was oddly cagey. She didn't stay long. In the brief maybe 10 minutes they were both awake, Pearl didn't make eye contact once, and no conversation went beyond three turns. Marina choked it up to Pearl not being a morning person and didn't dwell on it. Her mind was preoccupied at the moment.

Pearl had left maybe twenty minutes ago, leaving Marina alone with her thoughts. She'd deleted the email before she'd put Pearl's phone down. It wasn't likely that Pearl would even realize there was a secondary message, but it wasn't worth the risk. For the same reason she'd not sent a reply, instead just commenting the contents to memory. Corner of 21' and 41' in the warehouse district.

There was a lot to unpack within the message, even on the surface. An Inkopolis music collective being interested in Color Pulse was in and of itself spectacular. That could maybe give them the grounds, equipment, and community to make more songs without having to rely on the library for everything.

However, much, much more pressingly, Marina knew that name: The Hollows. It was the name of an 'unsanctioned' club within the domes. Tucked away in a decommissioned dome, a group of military defectors set up a small enclave where they lived and made music without the Military's influence or rules. Over time, it grew big enough that soldiers would often 'sneak' away from their barracks during their downtime to watch the shows they put on. The only reason the club was allowed to stay open was because it was an incredibly tame and safe form of rebellion. The more unscrupulous soldiers could feel like they were getting one up on the chain of command, without actually causing any harm. It was where her friend Ahato had run away to, and where Marina found the resolve to abandon her position as the Head Engineer.

And now they were on the surface.

It was impossible for it not to be them. There were flags throughout the email. 'Stars Above', 'sky-eyed', 'blew us to the stars', 'underground talent', 'Grand DJ'. There wasn't any possible other way to interpret things. The sky and the stars were common idioms in the dome. The deliberate emphasis on the underground. Hell, even the mashing of Grand general and DJ Octavio. There were far, far too many things here for it to be a coincidence.

She had to go meet these people. To find out if this really was them or not. Her schedule was clear and she knew where to go... why wasn't she going?

Marina paced up and down the hallway. Each time she reached the end, her eyes would linger on the corner of the kitchen for a few moments before she turned to continue pacing. Tucked away behind the counter was a... project she'd been working on it. When she'd first made it to the surface two months ago, she'd been alone, but that wasn't how it was supposed to be. She was supposed to have escaped with Ahato. Ahato was the one who convinced her to run. She'd watched Octavio's defeat with Ahato. They'd even run from the Hollows together. But Marina hadn't been of sound mind. She'd barely kept her head above the torrent of stress and fear that nearly consumed her. When the duo met opposition, Marina's instincts chose to swim rather than sink, and she'd run.

The field radio was her only potential line of connection to the friend she'd abandoned a second time. It hadn't so much as crackled once. Tucked into the corner of her kitchen, the field radio sat in a state of half-repair. On the mountain, the device hardly ever left arm's reach, but Inkopolis was an incomprehensible scream of radio interference. Here, the thing was a glorified paperweight on its own; she'd been trying to augment it to fight through the noise and try to find her friend, but Marina...

She'd forgotten about the project. In her frenzy of living on the surface, getting a job, the Squid Sisters, Pearl, the field radio fell to the wayside. There wasn't a kind way to put it. Marina had forgotten about Ahato.

Finally, she broke herself from the loop, and knelt beside the mess of wires she'd abandoned. It didn't take long to put the field radio back together, she hadn't gotten very far into the project.

With a resolve she didn't truly feel, she stood, radio clutched in her hands once more. She may have forgotten about Ahato, but she wasn't going to run this time.

Of all the Districts that made up Inkopolis, the Warehouse District had to be the least interesting. The Historic District was filled with fascinating buildings older than the occupation of the domes. Downtown was obviously laced with stores and crowds, while The Docks was bustling with life, sounds, and smells unlike anywhere else. Residential Districts were absolutely coated in the life of the inhabitants, and the Business District had buildings so tall it gave her vertigo trying to see the top.

By contrast, the warehoused district reminded her of the domes. Namely in that it was a pure, utilitarian usage of space; plain buildings as far as the eye could see. Very few structures made any attempt to hide the wear and tear they'd been put through. It was the only district where the primary thoroughfares were designed for transports rather than foot traffic. The soundscape reflected this fact innately, as the rumble of engines and the clattering of equipment was interrupted by voices, rather than the other way around.

It was a strangely... cozy place.

As she walked, Marina pulled the headphones Pearl gifted her over her ears. The soundscape was nice, but she needed to focus right now, and the noise canceling would help her do that. What am I expecting? What am I about to walk into?

Here's what she knew: 'The Hollows' referred to a collective of musicians from the domes, the same group Ahato was a part of. Presumably, they also ran for the surface after Octavio's defeat, but she hadn't had any way to know for sure before now. When she... left Ahato behind, Marina assumed that she fell in with the rest of the group.

What was she expecting then? A large collection of dome octolings huddling in a warehouse. Among them, an Ahato who was probably very, very upset with her, but an Ahato that was here.

After a meandering path, Marina approached the corner of 21 and 41. This edge of the district bordered on the less touristy side of Downtown, and the presentation of the warehouses marginally reflected this change. At the very least, they were repainted every 10 years rather than every 20.

The building she was after was a rather quiet affair, a bit of an oddity compared to the ones surrounding it. It was primarily... empty. It was a large, rectangular brick structure maybe 2 stories tall with a row of windows along the top edge and two large shuttered doors on either edge. The large yard in front of it was devoid of the pallet stacks, forklifts, and workers that filled the others. The building itself lacked the advertising of the others as well, with only faded lettering spelled out "Ablehand Bricks" to adorn it. Without a doubt, it was one of the oldest buildings in the district.

Slowly, she approached what she assumed was the front door. It opened as her knuckles poised to knock. A tall, spindly octoling stood in the doorway with squinted eyes. His tentacles were a fascinating three-tone gradient of a deeper orange color at the base, light blue down the tentacles, and then lime green at the tips where several piercings were set. He wore an oversized shirt loosely patterned after a human skeleton. Marina knew this octoling, and judging by the look in his eyes, he recognized her too.

"Yo." He said, voice devoid of any specific inflection.

Marina tried to keep her voice from wavering at the sudden spike of nerves. "Ye-yes— ahm. Hello. I'm... DJ_Hyperfresh. F-from the Shell Rockers. I received an email from the Hollows Collective that seemed interested in our song Color Pulse?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah. We sent that to you last night. Fast response." He didn't move from the door. "Are you both here, or is it just you?"

"Ah, just me..." Marina didn't do a good job at keeping the reluctance from her voice.

"Well, DJ," The door opened further as he stepped aside. "If you'll please come in."

"Of course!" She answered, perhaps a bit too quickly. Marina stepped through the door, only to immediately come to a halt as she saw the inside of the warehouse. Marina knew places like this quite well. Large spaces meant to hold copious amounts of materials and items. Brutal, efficient spaces with no room for heart or fluff. What she found was nothing like that.

She was first met with a small lobby area, sectioned off from the rest of the warehouse by the same kind of faux-wall used to make the cubicles in her office. As her guide opened a door to bring her beyond, Marina was shocked to find just how changed the warehouse was. Rather than the drab, derelict workspace she'd been expecting, there was a community.

Potted plants were scattered around the room, their pots painted bright, vibrant colors. Tapestries hung from the lifted ceiling, the light from the windows shining through them and dying the space in a subtle rainbow. Dozens of mats and rugs littered the floor, each one unique in its pattern. More of the cubical wall was used to section off one of the room's side walls. Doorways lined it, offering glances into small spaces, each with a unique decorative flair. Foam sound panels, like the ones from the library's recording room, lined the walls, both temporary and permanent, in every color imaginable.

And the people. A massive crowd of octolings mingled in the space. Draped over couches, sat on the floor, pacing around, there were dozens of them. Some were strumming on a guitar or bass, others picked at a keyboard, nodding in time with their song. Many of them were just talking, filling the space with the warm clamor of voices. Across the numbers, there was a rainbow of different ink colors, but enough of them were the same identical deeply familiar magenta coloration that made Marina's nerves twist.

There was one specific face she couldn't find in the crowd.

"Impressive, right?" Her host stood to the side, with a look of pride. "C'mon. I'll take you to our business room."

Marina was walked through countless songs in various states of production. A pair of twins traded a punchy melody back and forth, each echo more intense than the last. A particularly gruff looking octoling stared dead into the screen of a laptop while the most energetic, almost frantic synths shouted back. Two octolings with guitars rolled their eyes, frustrated with their drummer who was ostensibly not good at the drums yet. All around her was just music, everywhere.

But before long, she entered into the only section that appeared to have come with the building. Its walls were brick, with a large window peeking inside. Her guide pushed straight beyond that into another room that was filled with nothing but white boards and a large wooden table with chairs around it. None of them were quite the right height for the table. She picked one near the center, sitting down and setting the field radio on the table.

"Sorry, sorry." Her host waved dismissively as he took a seat beside her. "Building came with the table, but no chairs. This room hasn't exactly been our highest priority."

"O-oh! It's no worry!" Marina quickly assured. "Not a problem at all!"

"Hmm." Her host hummed in agreement, seemingly content to let her stew in the awkward moment.

Marina didn't really have a choice but to squirm under his gaze. "Mmm... d-did you have something to ask me?"

A small smile played on the corner of his mouth. "Ah, yeah. Let's not fan the flames any longer." He shifted, stretching before resting an elbow on the table and propping his head on it. In the most casual tone manageable, he continued. "Marina Ida. Head Engineer and General Octavio's pet project. Right here, sitting in front of me of all octolings, on the surface. Quite a bizarre situation, no?"

Marina went rigid.

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

No. No.

"You got this."

She wasn't down there. She would never go back.

Marina broke her gaze from the floor, meeting the host's eyes. "I was. Not anymore." The certainty in her voice shocked her, but she didn't let that show.

He stared at her a moment longer, one eyebrow raised, before leaning back. "Good. We didn't really notice during the two days you were with us underground, but we figured it out a little while later."

"I don't... like thinking about those times." Marina admitted quietly. "I hated it. I hated myself. I don't want to go back, even in my memories..."

Her lament was interrupted by a hand. "Warabi, but if we're doing stage names, then Mashup."

Slowly, she took his hand. "Marina. Just Marina... please."

"'Course." He shook her hand before leaning back in again. "I'm sure you've figured by now, but I, as well as everyone else here, lived in the domes. We escaped after Agent 3 defeated Octavio."

Marina nodded. "I kinda figured after that email."

"Ah, subtle, right?" Warabi had a particularly smug look on his face. "I bet your duo didn't notice a thing."

"Pearl didn't see it." Marina reassured. "And I deleted it, so we don't have to worry.""

"Ah, fair. On the topic though, second question." He leaned forward again, the joviality vanishing from his features. "Where's Ahato?"

The temperature in the room dropped. "W-what?" Marina gasped.

"Ahato Mizuta. You know, the octoling you were tripping over yourself to follow underground? Where is she?" The look in Warabi's eyes intensified, as his voice lost any of the lingering aloofness it carried before. "She never met up with the rest of the group for our escape, but her packs were missing when I checked. Where is she, Marina?"

No. No no no nonono... "I-I thought she was with you all!"

"Wh-Nope. Nope." He repeated the word like he was affirming something to himself. "I found this—" He leaned down, and pulled a busted turntable from somewhere under the table— "under the cave exit. Clearly fell a long ways down."

Marina felt her hearts hammer in her chest. She recognized that turn table. It was the partner to the one sitting in her apartment.

"What happened, Ida?" He demanded, a fire in his eyes. "Where is my friend?"

"I— we— she—" The words caught in her throat. Marina tried, she tried to get the words out. I lost her. We got separated. I was scared. I didn't— I didn't— but she just couldn't. A choked sob wrenched itself from her throat, as tears filled her eyes. "I didn't—! I— I—"

A hand landed on her shoulder. Warabi met her eyes, the anger having fled from his face, replaced by the fragility of shattered hope. His breath hitched, but he was deliberately holding himself together. "What happened?"

Through shuddering breaths and flowing tears, Marina told him. How she found Ahato, and pulled rank to give her a chance to escape her duties. How they watched the fight, how Marina had resigned herself to her fate as the Head Engineer. The fear she'd felt when Octavio lost, the same fear that drove her to run, barely pulling Ahato behind her. They got their bags, but Marina couldn't wait. The overwhelming fear of what the Head Engineer would be required to do after that fight was too strong, she couldn't get caught. She couldn't wait. She couldn't.

Marina told him how they encountered Imari, and how she had broken. She stopped thinking, fear and instincts her sole motivators, forcing her forward, onwards, away. Only the next day did she regain herself, and by that point, it was far too late to turn back.

"I thought... you all weren't far behind. You should have found her. She should have been there... I didn't mean to abandon her again... I..."

Warabi had been silent through the entire story, his fragile visage slowly giving way to a stone face she couldn't read. "She's gone then?" He finally asked, nearly five minutes after she finished the story.

"All I have is this..." Marina grabbed the field radio. "She has the other half. Dome radios each get their own frequency, so it's a unique pair." She took a shuddering breath. "I-I've been trying to modify it to work in the city, assuming she was with you all, but..."

The silence stretched. Finally, Warabi's head bobbed. "I'm not—" He stopped, immediately holding up his hands. "I don't know if I... Ahato— she was a friend, you know?"

Marina nodded, too scared of what he was getting at to speak up.

"But I know you cared about her too. You weren't malicious, but you still..." Warabi looked away. "I don't know if I can really forgive you for that."

It hurt to hear him say it so plainly, but Marina nodded anyway. It wasn't an unfair reaction.

"However." He put a hand on her knee. He still couldn't quite meet her gaze, but he at least looked towards her again. "Even if it was just for two days, you were one of us. Among the Hollows."

"What are you saying?" Marina asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You still ran, stars, if anything you running was a far bigger thing than any of us. I... wouldn't want a grudge between me and you to keep you from the people here."

"W-Warabi?"

"We're all," He paused, chewing his words. "Survivors of the domes. It's something unique to us out here. It wouldn't be right to isolate you from them."

A soft gasp escaped Marina. "Really? I don't know what to say..."

"One condition." Warabi said, maybe a bit faster than he intended. "You don't tell the kid. At least until he's older. He doesn't need that weighing him down right now."

The kid? She had to think, but she could remember a few times where a little kid popped in on Ahato while she was there. "Alright." Marina nodded. "Yeah, yeah. I can do that."

"Well!" Warabi shot from the chair with a clap of his hands. "If it's cool with you, I'll give ya a little tour of the place, let you see what it is we do, and then we can talk about the Shell Rockers, eh?" His cheery tone was obviously forced, but Marina was more than willing to play along to escape the suffocating atmosphere.

"Oh! Um, yes! That sounds great!" Marina tepidly rose to stand beside him.

"Great! Follow me!" Warabi led her out, back into the main room where all the musicians bustled about.