The Reluctant Hero (Splatoon)

Chapter 25

"The most fashionable gear is crafted with the latest in textile technology. Heating materials to produce smooth curves or distressing stiff fabrics to increase suppleness and change their look are common techniques."
—Sunken Scrolls 2:13 (3.4)

Thursday, 9:30 a.m.
Teuthida General Hospital

Natalie pecked at the bagel in front of her. Breakfast in bed was fun for about all of ten seconds until she realized that raising either hand to her mouth hurt. A lot. Suddenly, eating a bagel became incredibly challenging. Stitches sucked. Gah, this was so frustrating! Why couldn't she do anything right?

Man, staying in a hospital was so boring. At least she only had to stay for a few days this time, and not two whole weeks—no broken ribs or deflated lungs this time, no sirree! It would still be pure torture, though. There was never anything good on TV, and there was nobody to talk to. Natalie had lost her phone, too, so she couldn't even bother Cole. Dang it all.

Natalie forgot how much she enjoyed talking to him face-to-face. She fondly recalled yesterday's reunion and resolved to sign up for League tryouts next season. She had so immersed herself with work that she had abandoned her lifelong dream of playing Turf War. And for what? So she could kill unarmed civilians? So she could lie to everyone? No more of that, Natalie decided. She was going to live life for herself and rekindle that dream of hers.

For now, she had to wait until evening. Then she could see Cole again. They had a lot to catch up on, and Natalie was really looking forward to another chat with him. She was also really looking forward to that Super Seanwich.

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Thursday, 10:57 a.m.
Marie's apartment

Callie awoke with a start. The first thing on her mind was Octavio's stupid, stupid operation. So many people were in danger. She had to stop him. What time was it? Was she too late?

Why was she at home?

She tried to push herself up, but she found that her wrists were tied behind her back. She rolled off the couch and landed in a kneel. Then she rose to her feet. Her eyes scanned the room—coffee table, bookshelves, floor—for something to cut her binds with.

"You're awake," came a voice from behind. Callie immediately recognized it as Marie's.

"We don't have time for this," Callie shot back, not even bothering to look her cousin in the eye. She continued searching for something, anything sharp enough to cut through a plastic cable tie. "Is it noon yet?" she asked.

Marie said nothing, but Callie heard her cock a gun.

"Seriously?" Callie fumed, straightening herself and slowly turning around. Behind the couch and around the dinner table sat Marie, Sheldon, and the young man from the police station. Sheldon paid no heed to the proceedings and read something on his phone. The big guy sat with his arms crossed, a pistol on the table and his eyes on Callie. Marie pointed a gun of her own at Callie's legs.

Callie looked behind them and caught a glimpse of the stovetop clock display. It read 11 a.m. She breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't too late, but she only had an hour left.

"Why are you here?" Marie asked in an even tone, devoid of emotion. Her voice sounded fake. That was the sort of voice Marie usually saved for interrogations or when somebody needed to die. The realization sent chills down Callie's spine—they were enemies now, after all.

"Inkopolis Plaza at noon, Octavio is taking hostages to publicly exchange for Agent 3's life. I'm here to warn you. There are also two Octolings cells taking Zapfish from Moray Towers and Musselforge Fitness during the chaos, but we don't really have the manpower to stop them."