Agent 8 was excited. No, that was an incredibly large understatement. Agent 8 was bouncing for joy and shaking so much that he was practically invisible to the naked eye and had enough energy to power the sun for ten billion years.

The young teen had just arrived to an odd elevator after going through hell and back to get out of the deepsea metro. He didn't really understand how or why this elevator was so conveniently here at the end of the road, but did he care? Hell no. He was about to reach the surface and he couldn't be happier.

A wide, giddy smile was on the octoling's face as he gazed around the area with large eyes, beaming with pride and joy. All he saw was white and blue columns and stuff, but soon he was going to see so much more. He couldn't wait, he seriously couldn't wait. He wanted to dance, he wanted to sing, he wanted to see the sky!

He wanted to play under the rainclouds as the droplets fell all around him, he himself wearing a raincoat for protection. He wanted to stick his tongue out and catch the fabled 'snowflake' on it and let it melt in his mouth like octarians and inklings had did many years ago together. He wanted to feel the sun warm his skin and drink cool water on a hot day at a 'beach' and watch the tides drift in and out. He wanted to do so much, he wanted to do soooo so much!

Eight was so caught up in his fantasy that he barely noticed that he was singing and spinning around the place. There was a bounce in every step he took and a lot of heart in the song he was singing, he was never happier. His tentacle was swirling and curling around as he nodded his head to the beat of the song and he didn't even know what was coming out of his mouth! Then again, the tune sounded like the one he heard two years before, so maybe it was just him singing the tune but flumbling the words. The song was in the inkling language after all, and he only spoke octarian.

"Damn, Eight! You seem so excited for something as small as going up an elevator." Pearl laughed in his earpiece, sounding amused.

Eight shook his head with a bright smile upon his face, unable to put into words how excited he was. He was just...so happy. He was finally going to get out of this mess and was going to live his life how he wanted. No more oppression, no more constant machinery and suffering. No more fighting and quarrels, just fun and peace.

All of those thoughts went to a screeching halt and out the window once the elevator stopped.

The two adults on his earpiece voiced their concerns as Eight urgently peered around the area, wondering what could've caused the elevator to fail. Maybe there was a blockage of some kind? The power source malfunctioned? The young octoling's mind was racing a million miles a minute, desperate to get this issue out of the way so he could hurry up to the surface. Maybe he could climb off the platform and try to find the source of the problem and fix it himself? While he didn't know too much thanks to his amnesia, he recalled a lot about mechanical things among the gaps in his memory and could maybe solve the issue himself.

"Wait, who's up there?" Pearl asked, causing Eight to immediately turn his gaze to sky. Who was she talking about?

In a few seconds of searching, Eight's eyes landed on someone who looked familiar, standing on a small platform. Who was…?

"That's Agent 3, but..." Marina answered, not sounding too happy at what should've been a fortunate reunion. What was wrong?

Eight narrowed his eyes, cursing his blurry vision as he struggled to figure out what was wrong with Agent 3. Was that...something on his face? It looked like literal, green shit. Glowing, green shit.

"Gaah! Agent 8? Help me!" He heard Cap'n Cuttlefish yelp with desperation in his voice. Eight looked over a small ways away from Agent 3 and spotted Cap'n Cuttlefish tied upside down and struggling, attached to a UFO. Where did they find that?

Unfortunately, Cap'n Cuttlefish's call for help alerted Agent 3 of Eight's presence. Eight watched as Three tilted his head up and then turned and looked over his shoulder, glowering down at the young octoling with a cold look. Immediately, Eight could tell that something was definitely up. The dark-skinned inkling's eyes were glowing the same bright green as the shit on his head instead of the normal black that radiated warmth. He was likely the reason the elevator stopped.

"That cursed phone hijacked Agent 3's mind!" Cap'n yelled as he continued thrashing in his ropes, "He's not listening to anything I say!"

Eight took a step back, then two, then three. Admittedly, he wanted to run away and go hide under a bed with a blanket. He didn't sign up for this, this wasn't a part of the tests! All of that hell of getting the energy core and guiding it and he still had stuff to do?! He shouldn't have to do this! He didn't want to do this! This wasn't FAIR.

Agent 3 didn't seem eager to let him have a choice, however. Happy to get the battle started, Three launched himself off of the platform in an extremely quick super jump and prepared to land in a hard splashdown right where Eight stood.

Hearing the que for the splashdown, Eight instinctively dived out of the way and began firing his octoshot at the inkling in a desperate attempt to get him to stand down. He didn't want to hurt what was supposed to be an ally, but he really didn't have a choice at the moment. Eight's heartbeats were pounding in his ears as the fight grew more and more aggressive, the young octo barely able to keep up pace as Three shot back at him.

They continued firing at each other, both sides refusing to back down, though Three had the upper advantage. He was much more knowledgeable on how to get around on the battlefield than Eight, much more agile too. The fight would have to end quickly in order for Eight to win, otherwise he'd be worn out and Three would easily overpower him. The pressure was on for the octoling and it wasn't doing him any favors. With that plus Three constantly on his ass, it was hard for Eight to strategize and think of a good move to pull off to turn the battle around.

Out of nowhere, Three drew a little bit of distance between the two and his head started glowing, bright bubbles emitting from his tentacles. With a grunt, he did a quick frontflip and suddenly there was a bomb launcher resting on his ink tank. Reaching a hand back, Three grabbed a couple flat, circular bombs with small handles from his inktank and tossed them forwards, right at Agent 8. Curling bomb rush.

"Woah woah woah! What?!" Pearl cried out, sounding confused. "He just used a splashdown! He can't do that!"

"Oh geez, I think Three may have taken off the limiter, Eight!" Marina informed, "That means that he'll use whatever special he can to get you! Don't let him!"

"That's fucking scary!" Pearl yelped, "If he's taken off the limiter, who knows what else he'll do?!"

"Keep your distance, Eight!" Marina piped up again in concern, "She has a point! Agent 3 could get physical if you're not careful!"

Eight found it hard to heed her warning, considering the fact that he had to dance around curling bombs that were all strategically placed to do the most damage. That was what was so terrifying about Agent 3, what was so unsettling. He had that cold, calculating look in his glowing eyes that were constantly observing and predicting Eight's every step. It almost felt as though he knew he was going to win, that he knew he would defeat Eight easily. It made Eight fear for his life.

The octoling stumbled over his feet as he struggled to keep his distance from Three, the latter of the two having finished his curling bomb rush and was slowly inching closer to the young octo little by little. The arena was getting overtaken in bright green ink, Eight's purple starting to dwindle as the octoling grew more and more overwhelmed. Eight's grip on his octoshot grew unstable and clammy as the the distance between the inkling and him declined, fear starting to take over his mind. Every step he took backwards, Three would take almost five forward. He was getting closer.

The octoshot slipping out of his hand was the perfect opening. The young octoling wasn't given a chance to react, too busy trying to quickly pick up his weapon from the ground to notice Three rushing at him. They collided with a hard slam, Three kneeing Eight in the stomach and knocking him onto his back, hands clenched around the octoling's neck tightly. Agent 8 gasped sharply and struggled, doing his damned best to get out of Three's grasp and into safety. Despite landing desperate, hard kicks into Three's stomach and potentially more vital organs, the inkling wasn't letting up and Eight's vision was starting to be decorated with dark, murky spots from the lack of air.

Hot tears welled up in Eight's eyes as he realized that he was losing, he was done for. He kicked his legs as hard as he could against Three and desperately clawed at the hands on his chest felt extremely tight and constricted, his head hot and light. Choking wasn't a fun thing to go through at all, and it was an even worse feeling when he knew that he was this close to leaving oppression and entering a life of happiness. He wasn't going to make it. The dark spots were clouding his vision and his struggling was starting to weaken. The lack of oxygen was starting to get to the young octoling, the life slowly draining from his body.

Eight could barely hear the screaming coming from his ear piece at this point as his fight to live slowed and eventually stopped. Choked noises came from his mouth as he gave one last attempt to try and breathe, to get at least one last breath of air. Everything was fading. His vision, his hearing, everything. It all hurt, everything hurt. Yet...Eight felt almost at peace. A calmness was starting to spread around his body. And man, Eight never felt so. Fucking. Scared.

In the final try to somehow, someway, get Three to let up on him, Eight softly rested his hands over Three's and squinted his eyes shut, letting the tears built up in them run down the sides of his face and to the ground. With the last of his strength, the octoling opened his dimming eyes once more and stared at Three's cold and merciless eyes with a pleading gaze, mouthing a small but powerful word with nothing but a wheeze escaping his throat.

"...Please…."

...

Eight's arms fell to the cold ground as the life left his body, his head lolling to one side. His dark skin was pale, the normal dark red and youthful flush completely gone from his cheeks. His charcoal black eyes were left half open, completely dull and lifeless, staring at nothing but thin air.

Agent 8 was dead.

…

…

…

Eight was laying on his back, but he was floating. Maybe. His limbs and head felt like they were made of jelly and he couldn't feel the ground underneath his feet. Everything felt sluggish and slow, plus it was hard to move. It was like he was in a pool of opponents' ink, except without the painful reaction to his skin that it usually caused. It was just slow and very murky.

Straining to open his eyes, the young octoling slowly managed to peer around the area he was in. Black. All he could see was black. He looked up and down and all around and there was still nothing but black. There wasn't a speck of another color anywhere. It felt empty, extremely wrong. Something was missing, something wasn't right. It was menacing, overpowering. Where was he?

He slowly sat up, warily gazing around as he rose to his feet. Everything wasn't feeling right, his mind was incredibly muddled and he couldn't think straight. It felt as though cotton was shoved into his head and chains were draped all along his body, putting heavy weights on him and dragging him down. Admittedly, he just wanted to lie back down and go right back to sleep, but an odd feeling tingling in his gut told him he shouldn't. So with a small sigh, the octoling shook his head in an effort to clear its muddleness, and then stepped forward to an unknown destination.

Despite there being no lights or...anything in the area in general, Eight could tell that he wasn't wearing his usual outfit, but instead the odd modesty moss that was used on growing octolings. It was really strange, he hadn't been put into this outfit since before he had been released for training. The fact that he was able to even see it in the black area with no apparent light source was even stranger. In fact, he seemed to be illuminated perfectly despite the lack of light, which was a very, very strange thing to comprehend. Something really wasn't right.

A shiver went down Eight's spine, the realization that something huge could be going on starting to register in his mind. Someone could've taken him when he was unaware and relocated him for something sinister. He could've been in incredible danger all this time, and he was none the wiser. The perpetrator could've been coming back soon, he needed to leave and get back to...that one inkling. He couldn't remember who that inkling was at the moment, but he knew he was important. He needed to find a way out of there.

Eight kept walking, slowly stepping his way to wherever he needed to go. Despite the need to leave the area, he had no actual lead on where the exit was. Hell, he didn't even know if there was an exit. The place felt otherworldly as it was, the idea of him being trapped here for however long he could live without nutrients was startling. He had already been strangled as it was, possibly dying via stomach pains wasn't a pleasing idea either.

Eight's movements screeched to a halt, the octoling gasping in shock and his eyes widening, staring at thin air as memories flooded his brain, reminding him of what went down before he ended up in the mystery place. Visions of Agent 3 attacking him whirled around in his mind, the cold and calculating glares that the inkling would send to Eight chilling him to the core. Absentmindedly, Eight's hand gently grazed his neck, fingers running over the spots Three had gripped just a little time before. The spots were sore, the pain spiking greatly whenever the young teen would put even the slightest pressure on them.

Eight was baffled, not understanding what was going on anymore. He was strangled at some point by Three, and now he was in a mysterious black space and literally wearing a plant. Who even put him in the modesty moss to begin with? Where the fuck was he?

Suddenly, a sound rang throughout the area. Round ears twitching ever so slightly, Eight looked around for the source of the sound. He squinted his eyes, trying to spot anything among the blackness that could've been labeled as the source. Black. Black. More black. Twinkling yellow light. Black. Black…

Eight's eyes snapped back to the yellow light in alarm, the octoling taking several steps back in surprise. Then he narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, the odd sound that the light was making registering in his brain. It was...unlike anything he had ever heard of before. It was both amazing, yet the most dreadful thing he'd ever listened to in his life. It made his heart flutter with joy, and yet also make his stomach drop as though a thick pound of lead was inside of it.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Eight slowly walked toward the light, wondering and hoping that it would lead him out of there. The light got brighter and the sound got louder as he grew closer to it, each step contributing little by little to the intensity of the two. He had to squint his eyes shut after he crossed a certain point, plus he could feel the vibrations of the sound that the light was emitting under his feet, as if Eight didn't need another reminder of how loud it was.

There was a flash. Three was glaring down at him. People were screaming in his ears. His heart was racing. Three was choking him. Eight wasn't breathing. Eight wasn't breathing. Eight wasn't breathing. Eight wasn't…

Eight was dead.

Eight was dead?

...Eight gently touched his neck once more, fingers gliding along his skin as the memories passed in his mind yet again. Three's cold glare wouldn't leave his thoughts, the So Three...strangled him to death? He was dead?

"W-" He started hacking and coughing roughly, his throat having flared with a burning pain as soon as he tried to make a sound, cutting him off sharply. He winced after the pain died down, rubbing his neck in an attempt to soothe it.

So...He was dead.

Eight narrowed his eyes and looked around, averting his gaze from the light and tuning out the noise. If he was really dead, then where exactly was he going…?

The young octo started pondering to himself, wondering exactly where the light and sound was going to take him. He'd heard stories about things like this among the other soldiers when he'd previously served in the military, the stories themselves were completely blank in his memories but the overall concept was very familiar to him. When someone's body seized to function, their 'ghost' would end up somewhere special.

Peering at the light just ahead of him, Eight tilted his head as he struggled to remember what it may have represented. He knew that he was currently in some sort of purgatory and he knew that the light was a good kind of special,but where did it go to? The promised land? Reincarnation? Back to his body? Where? The definition of the light was always pretty broad, Eight couldn't remember if there was a specific location that it represented.

If the three things that he was spitballing were his only options, Eight didn't really like the option of that light anymore. Memories of himself being choked by Agent 3, failing after trying to get to the promised land were swarming through his mind and he really wasn't up for giving up eternal peace for having to fight for freedom and potentially getting his ass kicked yet again. Was the surface even all that different than the depths? Rumors of the place told him otherwise, but rumors were just rumors. Purgatory was starting to feel like a cosy place that he could live in instead, he could get used to it.

From there, he took one step back. Then two.

Then, he turned around. And walked away from the light.

Eight sighed, unsure where he was going to go from there. How big was purgatory? Maybe he could explore it and find his own place somewhere. If he ended up being able to see anything among the blackness in the future, of course. Maybe there were others there, other octolings maybe? Inklings too? This could be a different kind of 'promise land' he was looking for!

...His ear twitched. What was that sound?

Eight listened a little closer, realizing that it was very familiar. It was the light's noise. It was getting louder. Why?

Turning around, Agent 8 could see that the light that he had already taken many steps away from had somehow gotten closer. In fact, it was approaching incredibly fast, the noise emitting from it was getting louder and he could feel the vibrations under his feet getting stronger.

Shaking his head with dread washing over him, Eight quickened his walking pace, hoping the light wasn't going to catch up anytime soon. Walking for eternity in purgatory? He was fine with that. He was increeeedibly fine with that. He could spend the time trying to get his memories back, he was completely fine with that.

The light, in fact, was definitely going to catch up sometime soon.

Looking behind himself to judge the distance, Eight jumped in surprise as the light was alarmingly much closer than it was before.

He frowned, speeding up from a brisk walk into a light jog.

Then into a run.

…

...

Then into a sprint.

He was hysterical at this point, in all honesty.

He could hear the sound right behind him, the light was upon him. It wanted him, for some reason, but he definitely didn't want it back. He wanted to stay in purgatory and wander around, he didn't want to risk the idea of going back to life and having to fight and risk choking to death again. He wanted to stay and just have peace for once. He wanted a choice over his own destiny and damnit was he gonna run for his life (death?) just to try and achieve it.

He could feel it touching him. The light was starting to melt over his body, providing a comforting warmth that he did not want right then. Eight struggled against it, feeling the light start to pull him in even deeper and forcing his limbs to slow down to a standstill. He shrieked and begged, kicking his legs as desperately as he did before, fighting to escape and run away but for the exact opposite reasons. He didn't want to live. He didn't want to live. He didn't want to live.

He... He was scared.

He was terrified.

…

Encased in the warmth of the light, Eight slowly felt himself grow tired, immediately understanding that if he closed his eyes, he was going to wake up somewhere he didn't want to be. He was stubborn for an octoling, but that felt more like a blessing in the current moment than a curse. He was going to keep his eyes open and nobody was gonna stop him.

Except it was getting really, really hard to do just that. Fighting against an unknown force that was probably a thousand times more powerful than him was a terrible idea, but he wasn't stubborn for nothing. He felt like he was floating again, though, with a bunch of blankets and pillows around him. It was a trap, trying to get him to sleep. And it was starting to work.

He didn't want this. He really didn't want this. He didn't want to wake up to Agent 3 fighting him to the death again. He wanted to stay in eternal rest. He wanted to just die in peace. And fate couldn't even give him that. Fate was a bastard.

That last thought was all that went through Eight's mind as his eyes gently closed and his thoughts went blank. The light coursed through his body, putting the octoling at ease and making him incredibly tired. It was the best he had felt in years, and he hated it.

The last thing Eight could comprehend before he went under was a very cool, relieving sensation in his throat.

Fate truly was a terrible bastard.

…

…

…

"...fucking GOD! Fuck! FUCK!"

…

"...no oh no oh no…"

…

"...n't help! How?! How the fuck are we su…"

...

Eight squinted his eyes shut as the light around him became too much to handle, slowly coming back to consciousness. Without moving, he could conclude several different things. One, he felt somewhat angry at something, but he couldn't remember what exactly. Two, he was cold. He was extremely cold. It was a strain to keep his beak from chattering and to wrap his arms around himself. Three, his throat felt incredibly sore and he could barely breathe. It hurt like hell and may have needed medical attention, but he could breathe. He couldn't exactly understand why he was feeling so relieved to know that he could breathe, but he could and he was elated. And four, someone was screaming in his earpiece.

"What the fuck do we do? What the fuck do we do? What the fuck do we do?" Was a phrase that was constantly being repeated in his ear ever since he woke up. It was in a choked up voice of someone who he recognized...Diamond? No...Ruby? Eight's mind wasn't working up to prime and it was aggravating. He knew who this person was, he swore he knew them, but he couldn't place his finger on it.

Another voice he could hear was just...Sobbing. Someone was crying and was crying hard. Eight could hear the sadness pouring out of her voice as each sob came from the earpiece. Whoever it was, she sounded completely heartbroken. Like she had lost someone dear to her. But who…?

The memories of before flashed in Eight's mind, startling him into a sitting position. He was strangled, almost to death by something. Someone? Who was it again? All that he could recall was green and...shit? Shit.

Looking around, Eight could see with his hazy vision that there was someone across from him, holding his head and writhing on the ground. Who...Who was that? He could see that they had something green on their head that was glowing, and it also kinda looked...like….

A needle of dread pierced Eight's hearts as he figured out who it was. Agent 3. The one who almost strangled him to death. What was he doing on the ground over there? It didn't look good. The inkling was grasping his head tightly, curled up into an odd fetal position and kicking his legs everywhere, almost as though he were suffering from a head-splitting migraine….But why?

There was no time to ask questions, just to act. Keeping his eyes on Three, Eight slowly inched his way over to his dropped octoshot, moving little by little to not alert the brainwashed agent. It was an honest miracle that his octoshot hadn't melted into a puddle of ink like weapons usually did when discarded, leaving him weaponless. He had a fighting chance. He could do this.

Managing to reach his weapon, Eight gently picked it up and held it in his hands, trying to think of a good strategy to disable Three and potentially bring him back to normal. The inkling was unpredictable, willing to discard battle rules at the drop of a hat to eliminate his opponent. Eight would have to be much more careful, lest Three somehow decides to finish him off if he were to mess up again. Eight couldn't afford to end up in the same situation as before, he had to avoid being pinned onto his back by the other agent.

Rising from the ground with the softest of groans to not alert Three, Agent 8 quietly stepped over to the inkling and rose his octoshot, taking advantage of Three being distracted by his apparent migraine. His hands were beginning to shake as he pointed the weapon, all the anxiety from before coming back full force. He could do this. He could do this. He...He could…

With a shaky breath, Eight pulled the trigger to the octoshot and watched as the purple ink pelted Three's body, the harmful reaction of the opposing ink colors making the inkling's skin start to bubble. Immediately, the inkling halted all movement, seemingly stunned. Then, he slowly picked himself up off the ground, grabbing his previously discarded hero shot with his left hand and shaking off the purple ink like it was nothing. Eight took a couple steps back in both caution and fear, making sure to keep his distance from the unstable inkling. Then he looked up at Three's eyes and saw something odd.

He…

He was crying.

Eight narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side in confusion, not understanding what was going on at all. The other agent looked worse for wear, eyes somehow looking much more tired than they were before, dark bags slowly starting to show underneath them. Large, globby tears were trailing down Three's face and dripping onto the ground, small sniffles occasionally coming from the inkling as well. His hands were also shaking, grip on his hero shot clearly unsteady and he could drop it at any moment. What was wrong with him? He looked surprised, almost startled.

"Eight? EIGHT?!"

Agent 8 jumped at the screaming in his earpiece and rubbed his ear in irritation, the loud noises causing the feedback to go haywire and produce a whole bunch of glitchy sounds.

"Holy shit! Holy shit! You're alive?! We thought you were dead!"

Eight wasn't given much time to respond to the alarming comment when Three's head starting glowing just like before, bright green bubbles flowing out of his tentacles. Three did another frontflip, a seemingly plastic sphere suddenly appearing around him in a protective armor. Baller.

Agent 8 shot at the plastic sphere as Three tried to approach him, managing to fight back decently this time. The inkling was struggling to make it to him, and it was clear based on the frustrated expression on his face. It was kinda strange, seeing Three show so many emotions. He had come off as the stoic, edgy type to Eight as a first impression when he came crashing in through the ceiling. Then again, he was didn't look too old, not really seeming all more experienced than Eight himself. He was a child, definitely, but also a little closer to adulthood than the octoling. He had a little ways more to go to being the true 'edgy' adult that he tried to come across as.

Seeing the baller fill with green ink, Eight quickly backed away but still kept his gun up, watching as the sphere exploded into pieces and green ink flew everywhere. Thankfully, he was far enough away to remain unscathed, but Agent 3 was quickly making his way towards him.

They circled each other multiple times, each doing their hardest to pelt the other with enough ink to get them weakened. Eight was managing to hold strong this time, Agent 3 seemingly more hesitant and slow in his attacks than before. Something had definitely changed in him, but there was no time to fret about it. Eight had to win, or everything he fought for would be for nothing.

Growing cocky, Eight began to push forward against Three, starting to believe he had the advantage in the fight. Tossing a splat bomb behind the inkling, Eight quickly forced the other within range of the bomb, damaging him even further once the weapon exploded and practically covered him in ink. The purple goo clashed with Agent 3's green ink, causing his skin to start bubbling and his movements restrict incredibly. Forced to retreat, Three slowly backed into a corner of the battlefield, unintentionally giving Eight the advantage. This was it, he was gonna win!

As if intentionally dashing Eight's hopes, Three shook the ink off of himself and quickly super jumped off the platform before Eight could finish him, soaring high in the sky and landing swiftly onto the ufo that held Cap'n Cuttlefish.

"What the hell is he planning now?!" Eight heard Ruby yelp in his earpiece, causing him to jump since she'd been awkwardly silent the entire time. M...That one octoling girl was still quiet herself, however, Eight couldn't hear a peep coming from her end at all. He still was having a hard time recalling who they were, but he knew they both had been extremely significant on his journey.

In a flash, Three suddenly pulled out a stingray, aiming it sharply at Eight with no intent to hold back this time. The inkling grunted and pulled the trigger as he strained to hold the special up properly, the backpack being an enormous strain on his movements. The stingray fired, engine roaring to life as bright green ink flew out of the nozzle, right to where Eight was standing.

Diving out of the way, Eight quickly sprinted around the arena as the ray of green ink followed after him. He panted heavily as he weaved around the leftover ink on the ground, constantly switching from octopus to octoling to keep his quick momentum while simultaneously inking the ground in case Three were to leap back down. The wind was whirling past his ears as ran, the high pitched shriek of the stingray engine sounding among it a reminder that he could fail at any moment.

There was a couple of close calls here and there when Eight would slow down even just a tad, but eventually he came to a stop, realizing that Three was no longer firing a ray of death at him and he could finally rest. Wheezing in an attempt to get his breath back, Agent 8 rested his hands on his knees and squinted his eyes shut as he desperately tried to recuperate fast enough before Three attacked yet again.

Fate was a bastard.

Hearing the cue for another splashdown, Eight opened his eyes and saw bright rings of light circling right where he stood, Three just milliseconds from landing on top of him. Yelping in surprise, the octoling leaped as far as he could from the center of the circle, feeling some of the green ink splashing against his back and irritating his skin. He was used to it at this point thanks to all the times he'd fail the tests before, the bomb strapped to his ink tank having done a number on him.

Turning to face Three, Eight was baffled when all he saw was a large patch of green ink along the ground, the inkling nowhere in sight. The cue for the splashdown rang yet again, and Eight immediately looked down, seeing the rings that would signify it circling him once more. Shrieking, Agent 8 again lept from the middle of the circle just like before, barely managing to escape the radius that would've ended him. More ink pelted his back, knocking him to the ground and forcing him to lay and recover.

Sadly, Three wasn't having it. Another cue for a splashdown sounded, the octoling groaning out loud in exasperation. That was three in a row! Was Agent 3 really this energetic? Constantly using specials was known to take a toll on one's body, which is why they had to be used sparingly and carefully. The frequency he was using them was setting himself up for disaster, his body was likely getting overloaded and would crash severely if he wasn't stopped soon.

Rolling out of the way, Eight narrowly managed to avoid death by splashdown, but he was getting close. He slowly stumbled to his feet, using one of the obstacles in the arena to support himself, his entire body feeling numb and yet aching. Eight shook his head to rid of it of any ink, using one hand to quickly wipe off the goop all over his arms and legs. He absolutely hated the feeling of it, it wasn't like any sort of ink he'd felt before. The burning ink felt like it was moving, like it was actually trying to penetrate his skin and dig deeper. It was mortifying, like having liquid bugs all over him, desperately trying to get in to become parasites. Was this what Agent 3 felt? But in his head?

Peering up in the direction where Three should've been standing, Eight only saw him looking back, unmoving. He was just...just staring. Unblinking. His eyes were wide, as if staring into Eight's very soul or some deep mythical equivalent. Looking closely, Agent 8 could tell that the inkling was twitching ever so slightly; hands, ears, eyes, everything was doing some sort of subtle movement. It was as if the other agent was struggling to keep himself together, the thoughts that were possibly swirling around in his head was a giant mystery to Eight.

A clanking sound made the octoling's ears perk up slightly. Looking down at Three's feet, Eight could see his hero shot- discarded carelessly on the ground, a dent or two possibly taking home on the odd weapon. After a moment, the weapon slowly began to melt into nothing but a puddle of ink, blending into the ink that it had covered the ground with just minutes before. All the while it was happening, Three never broke his cold, intense stare at Agent 8. What was he doing?

"M...Maybe he's surrendering?" A quiet, croaked voice whispered in Eight's earpiece, sounding similar to the crying person from earlier. What was her name, again? Marine? Something close to that.

Eight kept his gaze locked on Three as they both stood just feet apart from each other, the octoling not comfortable with discarding his weapon alike to Three. In fact, he gripped it tighter, wary that the same situation as before was going to take place. He didn't want to end up choking just like before. He wasn't going to lose it this time. He made sure of it.

"I don't think he's surrendering, 'Reena…" Ruby suddenly spoke up, sounding incredibly hesitant. That was the other's name? Reena? No, there was something missing...Marine….Reena…It was on the tip of his tongue, he knew it was there.

He wasn't given much time to dwell on it, however, as Agent 3 was quickly approaching. It was small steps at first, so quiet that Eight had to strain his ears to listen. Then they got faster. Harder. Louder.

Three reached up an arm, millimeters from snagging Eight's wrist. Everything was moving in slow motion, his brain going a million miles a minute. He was dead. He was dead.

"RUN EIGHT! RUN!" Voices shrieked in his ears, the teen sharply dodging away from the outstretched hand and quickly jumpstarting into a sprint in the other direction. He could hear the inkling running right behind him, catching up with speeds to envy. Eight poured all his energy into his legs, desperately trying to evade the older boy and get to safety. He didn't know how long he could last, but he'd keep fighting to avoid certain death for as long as possible.

Those hopes were dashed as he felt himself being tackled from behind, knocking Eight off of his feet and onto his stomach, forcing a harsh exhale to escape from his lungs. He could hear the adults in his earpiece gasp in alarm and the squirming of Cap'n Cuttlefish in his ropes, all of them incredibly concerned that he was truly done for this time. In the midst of the panic and his struggle to catch his breath, Eight could barely feel the ink tank on his back being slipped off, rendering him unable to produce anymore ink.

He could feel himself being promptly flipped over once the ink tank was taken, coming to meet Agent 3 face to face instead of face to ground. The other boy's expression was disturbingly calm, bright green eyes staring straight into Eight's terrified charcoal black. Then, Three's eyes flickered down to Eight's octoshot, held tightly in the octoling's grip and only tighter once he realized that the inkling had an interest in it.

Reaching down, Agent 3 attempted to tug the octoshot out of Eight's grap. When the efforts proved to be useless, he strengthened it into a yank, pulling incredibly hard on the octoshot to get Eight to let go. However, Agent 8 couldn't. It was his lifeline, it's what helped him escape. To let go of it would mean the end, the end of how far he came. If he let go, he'd die.

Realizing that disabling Eight wasn't going to work in this method, Three looked down at the octoling with a hard, cold glare. Then, with a careless scoff, he reached back and mercilessly striked Eight across the face in one swift motion, the sound of the impact echoing throughout the elevator. Hot, blinding pain bloomed on Eight's cheek, the young teen crying out in pain and surprise at the sudden stinging in his face. He wasn't given much time to recover from it, a punch just as swift descending upon his other cheek and snapping his head to the other side in a flash. The attacks kept on coming after that, growing more severe and somewhat sloppier too, hitting his nose and eyes often. Eight could taste the blood dripping from his nostrils into his mouth, a taste he was all too familiar with.

It was practically impossible for Eight to focus among getting hit, but he could recognize the familiar tugging as before on his octoshot. Three was dead set on getting rid of it, attempting to pry Eight's fingers grasped around the handle off. Gritting his teeth, Eight curled his fingers into a fist and socked Three right in the nose, stunning the agent long enough for the octoling to knee him in the stomach and kick him off. From there, Agent 8 shoved him to the ground and began blindly swinging his octoshot at him, not caring how severely he could injure Agent 3 with his recklessness. Voices from all around were screaming at him to stop, but he didn't care anymore. He couldn't. He wouldn't.

He couldn't hear or see anything anymore. He reached his arms above his head and held them high, octoshot gripped tightly in his calloused fingers as he swung it down upon Agent 3's head. Again. And again. And again.

And again.

Again.

Again.

AGAI-

Agent 8 felt someone calmly rest their hand on his shoulder from behind him, the touch itself causing his body to seize up in shock and halt its movements entirely. He sharply looked down, spotting Three laying on the ground completely unconscious, sporting numerous wounds to his face and a bloody nose that was dripping onto the floor. However, the right side of his face was completely bare, the brainwashing goo that had hijacked his mind had fell apart onto the ground and was quickly disappearing. If Three was on the ground, then who…?

"Drop the weapon, Agent 8." He heard Cap'n Cuttlefish's voice instruct. Forcing the hand off of him and whirling around, Eight pointed the octoshot straight at the elderly inkling, anxiety high. His fingers felt cold and his hands were shaking, but he kept his gaze fixed firmly on Cuttlefish the entire time, as if worried he'd spring at him and attack him too.

"Eight?" Ru-Pearl asked hesitantly in a careful tone, "You good?"

"...Are you okay?" Marine inquired as well, an almost saddened tone to her voice, "That's Mr. Cuttlefish, remember? He was with you in the Deepsea Metro."

Agent 8 flinched as the memories flashed in his mind, recalling exactly what she was talking about. He looked at his extended arms in horror, realizing he was pointing his weapon at another ally after nearly beating the first to death with the same weapon. He almost killed two people. That wasn't the plan at all!

"Drop the weapon, Agent 8." Cuttlefish repeated, hobbling slightly closer with his cane. His eyes were wide with a disappointed glint, making the octoling's gut twist and turn around in complete guilt.

Eight swallowed thickly, yet felt as though his throat was completely dry. Hands trembling, he slowly let go of the weapon, letting it fall to the ground. It moved in slow motion, the only protection he had was slipping out of his grasp. It was going away. He didn't want it to leave. Agent 3 wasn't confirmed to have the mind control all the way gone. What if he came back and got both him and Cuttlefish? What if Three ended up staying that way forever? What if...What if…

Agent 8's breath hitched as the octoshot collided against the ground, the weapon wobbling, then laying still for a moment before slowly dissolving into nothing but a puddle of ink. Useless for defense now. It was over with. It was done.

Cap'n Cuttlefish looked down at the purple puddle of ink, then back up at Eight, "That was quite a scare, wasn't it? It's alright now, Agent 8, you're finished. You won!"

Eight was having a hard time processing that. His gaze remained fixated on the puddle of ink, the same ink that once composed his octoshot that had helped lead him out of the dark depths. The weapon that saved him from getting splatted by the sanitized octo soldiers. The very weapon that saved him from being killed by Agent 3, a powerful opponent that wanted him dead. It was a great weapon. It fit right into his hands, it was what he was trained for. It felt familiar in his fingers, not a hint of it was foreign to him.

And he dropped it.

It was gone.

"Agent 8?" Cap'n called his name, but got no response.

"Eight? Can you hear us?"

"Eight?"

"Eight!"

"Agent 8!"

"Eight! What's wrong? Marina, what's wrong with him?!"

"I-I don't know! Eight? Can you hear us? Please say something!"

"EIGHT!"

...

Eight sniffled, face heating up gradually as he struggled to form words with his lips. He stuttered more than once, throat spiking in pain with each attempt which discouraged him from continuing. His eyes were stinging, the heat in his cheeks making him unaware of the tears that were gently trickling down them. His shoulders were shaking with each gasped breath he took, arms reaching up to wipe the tears away despite more coming. He couldn't stop the flood from coming no matter how much he wanted to.

"A-Aaa…" Was all that he could say with his damaged voice, shaking his head as his tears grew larger and his snot grew snottier. With all that he had been through, added with being hungry and having amnesia, this was the moment that he finally broke down from it all. A shaky whine left his lips as his soft hiccups turned into heavy sobs, the octoling doing what he could to stifle them but to no avail.

In the middle of his sniveling, Eight could feel something gently grazing his cheek. Opening his eyes and looking up, he saw Cap'n Cuttlefish right in front of him, hand reaching out and fingers gently and affectionately wiping the tears from his cheek. The elderly inkling had a warm twinkle in his eyes this time, silently telling Eight that he didn't care he was mid-meltdown at all. Eight couldn't remember the last time he'd seen a look like that, if ever. It calmed him, he loved it.

Slowly, Cuttlefish grew closer, draping one of his trembling arms around Agent 8's shoulders and pulling him close into a soothing embrace. The agent was startled by the action, unsure how to react since he'd never received a hug like this before, especially by someone that was older than him. It made him feel protected, like someone cared about him despite the cruel parts of this world. Someone was looking out for him. People were looking out for him and were rooting for him to keep going. People wanted the best for him.

Tears of many mixed emotions welled up in Eight's mind as his fingers twitched. Then, he slowly embraced Cuttlefish back, crying even harder than before at the realization that he was almost done. He was almost to the surface. He was almost free. Everything was going to be different, everything was going to be foreign. Laughs, smiles, songs. Hugs. All of those were going to be there once he reached the top of the elevator.

Eight couldn't wait to see the light in the sky.

can yall tell the point where i started improvising as i went