Boy from Nowhere

The Captain

Nemesis glided through the tube, enveloped in inky darkness. It was... oddly comforting, especially after the events of the past day. He found himself wondering what would be at the other end. Perhaps a small underground bunker? A different part of Inkopolis? A river? He hoped it wasn't the last.

Eventually, the pipe reached a sharp upward turn, the sudden change of direction jolting his senses into high gear. He saw light and shot straight out of the tube.

His momentum sent him tumbling into the air in an awkward backflip. Switching to his terrestrial form, he prepared for the impact. He nearly missed his landing, grunting as his feet clanged loudly against the grate. He scanned the area for any signs of the old man, but there was nobody.

Instead, Nemesis was greeted by ruins, crumbling cement structures, snapped wires, and run-down mechanisms overgrown with weeds. In front of him was an old shack that looked ready to collapse. Its front wall was covered by a massive billboard, littered with dozens of scraps of paper.

Approaching, he skimmed over the clippings. Many of them were photos, some yellowed with age, others ripped, crumpled, singed, or even crumbling. A large portion of them were various shots of grotesque tentacles and other horrifying lifeforms, several appearing almost absurd in appearance.

Was the old man crazy? Why was he collecting these pictures?  And speaking of the old man... where was he? The boy flicked out his knife, scanning the immediate area for signs of the old man. Before he could go searching for him, a high-pitched beep caught his attention.

"I'm guessin' this is yer first time robbin' somebody, bucko? Drop your weapon and put your hands behind your head. I've already got backup on the way, so don't even bother thinking about it."

Nemesis stiffened, turning his head slightly to get a look at the person behind him. In the corner of his vision, he could just barely make out a bearded face, the old man's face. He held a cane in his hands, but the way he held it... was that a gun?

"Drop the knife, hands behind your head, now! I won't say it again! Don't make me shoot you!" Gritting his beak, he tried to think up a solution. Comply, resist, flee, all could go horribly wrong. But what choice did he have? He'd be smoked either way.

He knelt, trying to make it look as if he were going to set the knife down. "That's right, nice and slow. No sudden movements."

In a single swift motion, the young male whirled and flicked the knife at the old man, clanging off of the cane gun and knocking it slightly off to the side. The weapon discharged, giving Nemesis the opportunity to rush in and attempt to disarm the old Inkling.

That proved to be a horrible idea. Grabbing the cane by the barrel, he wrested it up in an attempt to point it away from himself, only for the old man to step closer and swing the grip of the weapon up between his now-outstretched arms and into his head. The blow caused him to reel in pain, forcing him to release the weapon. The old Inkling brought the weapon back around, but there was no beep. Nemesis lunged for his knife, snatching it up off the floor and spinning around to end the fight.

He charged with his blade leveled at the old man. The gun's high-pitched beep rang out, and he tucked into a roll. The gravel bit through the thin jacket as he tumbled across the ground. He expected his adversary to fire in a panic, only to find painful disappointment as he straightened up and the old Inkling let the shot loose point blank.

The shot hit him like a plank to the face, blotting out his vision with a swathe of grey. Then the burning started. Eyes, skin, nose, everything felt as though he'd been dipped into boiling liquid. Through the pain, Nemesis was vaguely aware of his hand smacking into something... the old man's gun, perhaps? Score.

— — —

[Captain's POV:]
Cuttlefish's eyes widened as the younger Inkling yanked his weapon from him, backing away and wiping the ink away from his eyes like the shot hadn't fazed him in the slightest. His face, however, was still dripping with ink, expression twisted in a snarl.

Seeing the gun's muzzle staring him straight in the face... it—quite frankly—scared him. He was old and quite familiar with death, but the powerlessness he felt was still discomforting, even after spending so many years staring it in the face.

He'd dedicated his entire life to his people. He'd sacrificed time, friendships, and even his own blood to defend his home. Was he really about to be killed on enemy soil by one of his own? Was his whole life going to just be forgotten like that, extinguished with just one tap of a trigger? The sound of his charger priming brought him back to his senses.

He looked up at the boy. His eyes were blue as the sea, steely and alight with manic energy. The pupils nestled within tight like a cornered animal preparing to fight for its life, yet here he sat, still breathing. Perhaps there was room for reason with the boy. The old captain struggled to his feet, propping himself up against the wall of his shack.

"Don't move!" The young male snarled angrily. Still no shot. His initial fear of the boy was slowly losing its edge, but he still had to be careful. There was little room for error, and most definitely not for hesitation. Breathe, Cuttlefish. Think.

"If I'm goin' to die, I want to go out standing." The barrel of the Bamboozler dipped slightly. The old Inkling raised his arms in a placating gesture. "If you're going to kill me, I have one last request." He said simply. "Just the one."

"What is it?" The young Inkling growled, quickly wiping his cheek on his sleeve. Don't raise the gun again, lad, please...

"What's yer name, bucko?"

— — —

[Nemesis's POV:]
"My... name?" Nemesis frowned, the weapon dipping slightly in his confusion. What sort of a joke was that supposed to be? What was so important about his name that the old man would be willing to sacrifice his last request for?

The old Inkling nodded. "Yes, lad. Yer name." It didn't make any sense... Why? Was he being baited into lowering his guard?

"And why should I tell you?" Lining up the sight, he prepared to press the trigger, but his finger was leaden, unwilling to move. Why couldn't he press it?

Just get it over with! The moment you let your guard down, you're done! Just- His hands grew shaky as he debated the question, logic clashing heatedly with his conscience. What had the old man really done to him? Who was in the wrong? Letting out an angry yell, he discharged the shot into the floor, startling the old Inkling back a few steps.

"Fine! I'll tell you, but only if you answer my questions. First of all, who the hell are you?"

"Captain Cuttlefish of the New Squidbeak Splatoon, at your service."

"A... captain? You mean... a military captain?" His brow furrowed a little. No wonder the old man had been so hard to fight...

"That's right, lad. Served in the Great Turf War, laid siege to Arowana Castle."

"I-"

"If you ain't out for blood, it's money. Am I right, lad? If that's what yer after, I got a job for you."

"A job?.." his voice trailed off as a sudden wave of dizziness hit him. His hearts beat harder and harder until he could nearly hear them, his stomach churning, this time not with anger, but with nausea. Any thoughts the Inkling tried to conjure up fizzled out as his oxygen slowly depleted.

Nemesis began to gasp for air, but each breath seemed to make it worse, further depriving him of oxygen. His head felt clouded, yet... so impossibly light. The young Inkling collapsed to the floor, still gasping for breath. No, not like this.

Everything blurred together as he pushed with all his might, reducing shapes and colors into mere splotches as his vision went dark. No, not...The last thing he could hear was somebody yelling. Perhaps the old man? But it was unintelligible, and that too faded away into silence.

— — — — —

Alright, I finally got past quality control. I hope this is a more enjoyable experience than what I've previously showcased. Enjoy.

-Nemesis