Agent 38: In The Making

Chapter 38: Uprise of the Sanitized Octarians

"Let me GO!" Three yelled. With his mind already more than half taken over, he balled up his fist and punched Eight hard in the face. She staggered back, looking stricken. Aaron splatted the Sanitized Octoling and turned just in time to see what happened.
     Three felt the glow fading out and realized what he'd done with a jolt of horror. "Oh my cod- I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry, I didn't mean to!" He rushed over to Eight to help her, but she shoved him away, trying to keep her nose from inking. Aaron came instead and helped her stand up, both of them glaring at Three.
     He hated the looks on their faces, in their eyes. Before, the looks had said "Friend, protector, colleague." But now, they said something more like, "Evil, betrayer, enemy, foe." Not that he was good at reading faces, but this was pretty obvious.
     But worst of all was Eight's face, her eyes, her beautiful eyes that looked so hurt and worried and furious all at the same time.
     Aaron opened one of the doors that clearly led outside, beckoning to Eight.
     "We're leaving," Aaron said, his voice harsher than he'd ever heard it. "Are you coming, or are you staying to terrorize anyone else who comes?"
     Three sighed. "I'm coming." Aaron turned and left behind Eight, so he had to speed up to catch the door. Once through, he pulled his hood over his head and shoved his hands in his pockets, keeping his head down and gaze on the floor. Soon enough, they'd arrived at the apartment. Aaron left to go back to his own place, but not before casting a worried, uneasy glance back at Eight. He unlocked the door and pushed it open, and she bustled right in, quickly taking over the couch.
     Three sighed again and walked into the bedroom, locking the door behind himself. He walked out onto the small balcony to watch the moon and stars slowly crawling across the night sky, thinking furiously at Tartar.
     Why'd you have to go and ruin things? Three thought. Life would have gone perfectly without you. I still would've had my friend, my girlfriend, and the Splatoon. But no, you had to go and ruin everything.
     No, Said Tartar. As you apparently cannot see, I'm fixing everything. I'll make the world an outstanding place. I'll get rid of disobedience, of anger, of pain, of every emotion. I'll- We'll make this world something worth living in.
     Chills slowly crawled up his back, and he didn't notice it at first, but an odd throbbing pain pulsed around his tailbone. What do you mean we? I'll never help you. Why would anyone help a monster?
     It throbbed up his back, getting stronger and stronger with each pulse.
     Sometimes, Tartar began.
     The pain pulsed up his neck, now a full blown migraine waiting to happen.
     You have to work with monsters to get what you want.
     It entered his head, stayed there for a moment, and Three knew what was going to happen as it exploded. Everything came flooding in all at once.
     Three almost instantaneously started screaming.
     Teal green imploded behind his eyes like fireworks of agony, Tartar's memories flashed behind his eyes as brutally as lightning bolts, and he felt himself struggling to keep control of his own mind and body.
     This is only the first wave, Tartar commented. Three clutched his head, screeching in agony. Soon, we'll expand.
     Three stumbled for the door as tears of pain blurred his vision and the haze of agony set a veil over his eyes. His hands caught on the doorknob and he unlocked it, opening the door to an extremely concerned looking Eight.
     He collapsed in front of her, still shrieking in pain. Through the haze, he saw her crouch down next to him.
     "Three! Three, what's going on!" Eight cried, shaking his shoulder. He tried to say something, but apparently screaming was the only thing he could do.
     "Three! Answer me! Alexander!" Tears of panic were filling her eyes as well. By now, his entire body was shaking in pain, and he felt as though his head might explode at any given moment. His lungs heaved in and out, barely leaving him any time to regain air.
     His vocal chords could be considered operas, singing a rather unharmonious song of suffering.
     The agony eased out for half a second, and swept back in like the tide. Tide. What a weird word.
     You're going delirious! Snap out of it! Three thought, or tried to think. It was almost impossible to even try to talk through the misery.
     "Alexander Liam Squidlink, answer me right now!" Eight screamed. Three let out another shriek of agony as wave after wave rushed back in to greet him, claws open wide. The pain felt like nothing he'd ever felt before.
     All of a sudden, it stopped.
     Three knew what was going to happen.
     "Eight," He whispered. "I love you."
     And then the haze vanished and... Well, then he wasn't himself anymore.
     Aha. Tartar laughed. I've got you now.
     "Why, hello, 10,008." Three said. He could hear Tartar's own robotic voice doubling over his, and he would've shivered if he could. "I am ever so pleased to see you again."
     Rage instantly blanketed Eight's face. In one swift move, she flipped him onto his stomach and slammed his face into the ground, keeping one foot on his back to make sure he couldn't move, even though his body still struggled. He heard a dial tone and his ears flicked towards the sound against his will. But then he felt an odd pinch at the back of his neck, and darkness suddenly bustled in to engulf him.
     The last words he heard were, "I love you too, Three."

     He woke up in sitting position, with his hands tied to something behind his back and his ankles also tied to something. There was clearly a blindfold over his eyes, including one over his mouth. A sense of relief washed through him.
     They've captured me. Good. That way I can't hurt anyone.
     Three's ears flicked around without permission, looking for noise or something to indicate someone else was there. His head lifted and swiveled around.
     "I told you," Someone breathed, a few feet in front of him. "He just started screaming." It was Eight. Three's head turned towards the noise.
     A stinging sensation on his cheek as someone slapped him. Slender fingers, gentle hands. Female. "Quit eavesdropping!" Callie's voice said.
     Someone else ripped the blindfold off his face and bright light poured in. Three squinted, taking in the scene. Aaron, Eight, Callie and Marie were all gathered in front of him, and they were clearly in the Cuttlefish Cabin, though Eight was nestled in a corner, hidden by shadow. Three glanced down to see what he was tied to- a wooden chair.
     Pathetic. Tartar thought inside him. We could break out of this with ease.
     "You shouldn't have taken it off." Aaron said to Marie. "Now it'll now where we are based on what he already knows."
     Three's head nodded up and down, and he felt his eyes narrowing to glare at all four of them. His hands quietly started moving against his will, tugging and pulling at each rope in order to find the one that would undo the bindings. His wrists and ankles were all tied with one rope, because if he moved his foot, the rope around his wrist tightened.
     The Agents stood silently for a moment, watching, waiting. Three's hands clasped around a rope and gently tugged on it, and the binding around his ankle loosened a bit.
     He felt something odd at the corners of his mind, as if something was calling out to him. As if he were being pulled towards that call, like an anchor on a boat.
     Tartar's summoning the Sanitized Octarians, Three realized with an internal shiver.  They'll destroy the Agents the moment they get here.
     I have to warn them. But how?
     You can't. Tartar said. You're my vessel, all mine to control. Face it. You're nothing more than a pawn in my game.
     "Take off the gag." Marie said, producing her Charger from behind her back. Three felt Tartar instantly analyze it and how to use it, and also felt another sensation, as though it was digging around his mind for information on what he knew about it. "Make him talk."
     Eight emerged from the shadows, glaring viciously at him, and yanked the cloth off his mouth. She stepped back, her expression still dangerous, and they were silent for another moment.
     "Hmmm." Tartar said, using his voice as if Three were nothing more than a puppet. Marie, Callie and Aaron looked horrified at the odd double edge to his voice, while Eight looked away as if holding back tears. "I must admit, for the Octoling that gave me such a headache, the group that she joined is much, much weaker than she is." He felt his mouth curl into an evil grin.
     "You know nothing about us!" Callie bristled, her eyes alight with fury.
     His head flopped backward and Three heard himself cackle with malicious glee. "Ah, but I do know you so well, Callie. I know everything about you. I know that your favorite weapon is a Gold Dynamo Roller, I know Marie is your cousin, I know your worst and greatest fears. I know you have potential, possibly enough to defeat this vessel, but you're too pathetic to summon the will to do so."
     Callie jerked back with a horrified expression, as if she couldn't fathom what else he knew about her. Marie stormed up to Three and grabbed him by the collar, slowly pulling him and the chair up into the air. "Don't you DARE speak that way about my cousin, Tartar! You have no right!"
     "Oh, Marie." He heard himself say. "So quiet and strong-willed, yet so naive and gullible."
     Marie punched him hard in the face.
     Three's hands pulled the rope and the bindings instanly went limp and loosened around his wrists and ankles. He stood from the wooden chair, an evil grin spreading across his face. Marie stumbled back in surprise, crashing into Aaron. Three felt one nanosecond of a moment where Tartar let it's guard down- that one moment he could use to warn them about the army that was coming.
     With a yell that was actually his, he blurted, "The army is coming! You have to-" before his mouth snapped shut and the cold  presence of Tartar swept back in.
     Just then, there was a loud thumping outside. 10 pairs of feet, he guessed. Then another thump, and another, and another, until he'd heard at least 50 pairs of feet.
     The army was here.
     Three's head bent slowly, menacingly towards Eight.
     "You, the Octoling who dared defy me. I challenge you."

Yayyyyyyyyy Three's lost his miinddddddd
Word count: 1813