Chapter Text
Firtha wandered down the streets of Inkopolis, her feet barely touching the ground. She seemed like a ghost, an apparition with sunken eyes and limp limbs. Inklings paid her no heed, though a few octolings gave her odd looks. The increase of octolings seemed to only be noticed by Firtha, as the inklings were too hedonistic to pay attention. All they saw were other inklings with fancier, more exotic hairstyles and accents. Even after all these years, only a few inklings knew what octolings were, and none seemed to care.
It's an invasion, she thought to herself, feeling her body grow cold at the way she was unable to recognize her home. An invasion, and no one even cares about it.
Why would they care? As long as they could go about their days focused on playing inksports and fashion, no inkling would turn an eye to look at anything out of place. She was the only one who cared, the only one who wanted her family, her home, to stay safe.
“What’s even the point of staying here?” She mumbled to herself, wrapping her arms around herself as the air shifted colder. Some of her extended family still lived in Calamari County, so no doubt she could move back there and they would welcome her back with open arms. But the thought of abandoning her brother, leaving him in the claws of that dammed octo was the only thing that stopped her. If she left, no one else could prevent the hoard of octolings that no doubt would crawl out of their disgusting sewers to take the surface for themselves.
She grit her teeth, nails digging in to her arms. Could she really let that happen? Did she need to let that happen? She was just one small inkling against a hoard of savages. Could she honestly prevent the destruction of everything she had ever known?
“Someone looks frustrated.”
Whipped her head up, the voice knocked her out of her stupor, and she glared around. Her peachy-orange eyes finally landed on a figure hovering in the shadows of the alleyway, leaning again a brick wall. Firtha felt herself stiffen, realizing she had wandered into one of the darker alleyways of the city. This was the shadier part of Inkopolis Square, a section she had always avoided… up until now.
“I’m feeling nothing of the sort,” she replied, tersely. “I was simply heading home, and I’m a little lost in thought. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have places to be.”
“My apologies,” the mysterious voice said, standing from the wall and lumbering towards her. They weren’t much taller than she, which was a feat in and of itself. She stared into sky-blue eyes, though the face of the stranger was hidden by a gas mask. She frowned, clutching her backpack closer, moving a hand to rest on her weapon. If this mysterious stranger tried anything, she would be ready. “I didn’t mean to startle you. It’s nice to see another friendly face out here.”
“I have nothing for you,” Firtha snapped out, not in the mood for whatever this inkling would say. “Please excuse me, I must be on my way.”
She turned to walk away, eyes narrowed in focus. Creepy bastards hid in the alleys of Inkopolis, and they often begged for things Firtha refused to give up. For all her strength, she lacked the desire to deal with them right now. She needed to get home, to decide her next move as she made plans to rescue her brother.
“I had only meant it was nice to meet someone who is just as wary of the Octarian invasion as I am.”
Firtha froze.
Whipping around, her eyes narrowed in on the stranger, who inclined their head as she stared. Her mouth bobbed open in a less-than dignified way, her body stiffening as she slowly digested the words of the stranger.
“You… you care about it as well?” She asked, her eyes widening. When the stranger inclined their head in acknowledgement, Firtha felt her body surge forward, a renewed interest blossoming in her chest. “No one else seems to care about this, despite the danger it poses to our society. My own brother has turned on me, choosing them instead of his own family. Can you fathom that? I-I don’t know what happened to him to make him turn his back on us, but no one is able to help me.”
The stranger lifted their chin. “I don’t think we should be speaking on this here,” they said. “Not to cut our conversation off, but I do wish to hear more about your poor brother. The Octarians and their brainwashing technology seems to have gotten stronger these past few years. And it saddens me to hear of more victims.” The stranger took a step back, probably to give Firtha more room to breathe. “There’s a little coffee shop just down the road from here, with some likeminded friends of mine who may be able to help you. If you’d like to meet there sometime, then I would love to discuss this further.”
Well.
What did Firtha have to lose?