K is for Kamabo (Splatoon)

Chapter 10

Thud.

Thud.

The vibrations in the floor were tremendous. Shockwave after shockwave rumbled through the ground, up Eight's feet, and into her body, painting a picture of the movements and forces currently at play. While she couldn't see much in the dark, she could use her excellent intuition to map out the space around her.

Thud.

Using her heightened sense of feeling, she could perceive a large, hulking figure meandering toward her, a gargantuan, rotund creature roughly twenty feet tall and three thousand pounds heavy. A real monster. Behind its towering frame were several normal-sized Sanitized Octolings who had their flashlights turned on. Eight's eyes picked up on the beams of light dancing about, outlining the partial silhouette of an enhanced male Octoling. Its upper body was covered in rippling muscles, fat, and armor—the result of Octarian bioweapon research.

...Thud.

The way the Sanitized Octo Samurai was moving suggested that it lacked night vision and thus couldn't see anything—each step it took was too slow, too gentle, and too careful for something of its size. It was holding itself back.

Thud-clank.

WHAM.

HWOOOAAAAR!

But it was also aggravated by its inability to see anything. Upon getting close to one of the regular-sized, flashlight-wielding Greens, the Sanitized Octo Samurai raised a beefy fist and brought it down with blinding speed, roaring all the while. Flesh, body armor, and gun-mounted flashlight alike were crushed under its massive weight. The little Green didn't even have the time to scream as the giant began to punch the floor repeatedly.

CLANK WHAM WHAM CLANK WHAM—

Eight prayed that it didn't know where she was yet. Her fight-or-flight response was quickly moving away from fight and into flight. The idea of dealing with something that large was daunting, to say the least. It could kill her easily. She could die in the time it took to blink.

Still hiding behind the forklift, Eight took a deep breath as quietly as she could to calm herself. She examined her options. There were only three directions that she and Agent 3 could take, now that their way forward had been blocked off: backward, left, or right. Retracing their steps back through the hallway they had come from was the safest option, but it took them further away from Commander Tartar, who was undoubtedly deeper within the facility. More immediately pressing was the Sanitized Octo Samurai, which would have no trouble chasing prey down such a straight, wide-open passage. On the other hand, the left hallway on the other side of the forklift had some clutter that could get in the monster's way. But there was at least one Green in it—Eight could see its flashlight beam sweeping back and forth as it approached the intersection. She did not want to deal with both the Samurai and foot soldiers in this pitch-black darkness.

Agent 3 muttered something under her breath, interrupting Eight's thoughts. "What?" Eight whispered, shutting off her body's alarms. She felt the need to run, but the Octo Samurai hadn't pinpointed her whereabouts just yet. She could wait, and she wanted to hear what the NSS agent had to say.

The Inkling repeated herself, whispering words in her native tongue that Eight did not understand. Then, switching to the Octarian language, Agent 3 spoke, "Big muscle man."

Eight would have laughed, but her life was on the line. "You mean Octo Samurai," she corrected.

"I can kill one. Last year."

Thud.

"You've killed an Octo Samurai before?"

"Yes. Gun to head."