"Truly, we live with mysteries too marvelous to be understood. Let me keep my distance, always, from those who think they have the answers. Let me keep company always to those who say 'Look!' and laugh in astonishment, and bow their heads."

- Mary Oliver, from 'Mysteries, Yes'

"BOO!!"

"Eek!" The maroon-haired cephalopod nearly punched the figure in front of her, a jerk reflex of defense. She gradually lowered her hand, however, upon recognising the figure's face, their tangy orange eyes brimming with the cheekiness of a baby squid. "Agent 4! Goshness, you know how I jitter in the dark."

4 tilted her head in response to the octoling's words, partly because of its slightly broken Inklish, but also from how shaken up she was. "First off," She began in a soprano-pitched yet warm fuzzy tone. "It's 'goodness' and 'how I feel the jitters in the dark'; and secondly..."

Upon her next few words, 4 swept her hand across the air, motioning to the amount of road that they have covered as the red and blue sleeves of her Takoroka Crazy Baseball LS fluttered in the wind. Indeed, they were quite a few miles away from Inkopolis Square. "We've been walking for AGES with torchlights! And you say that you're still scared, 8?"

"Hey, leave her out of it," An older, mature voice of their mentor echoed by, triggering the two agents to turn to the inkling in front of their path, her hands stuffed in her pockets and back turned to them. "You can't expect someone to get over a fear like that only after a few minutes of facing it, Agent 4. The likes of that succeeding is too low to compare," As she turned around, her royal blue eyes pierced into those of the youngest, most juvenile agent, who still had a clear frown on her face.

"A few minutes? 3, I feel like we've been going on for HOURS!" The yellow-haired inkling pouted as she looked around, her childish immaturity present in her voice as the team of three continued to walk. "There's literally no one here. No roads, no pavements, no lights, no shops. Nothing but a brown path for us to follow... Are you sure you even read that invite right?"

At the sound of that, Agent 8 reached into the pockets of her Silver Tentatek Vest, pulling out the same tattered, worn-out piece of paper that they had received some time ago. Truly, it was a strange sight to see; one day, as the three agents were meeting up at Crusty Sean's for some food, a passing inkling (or octoling, no one actually remembered) dropped a bottle near Agent 4's feet. Without a second thought, she had picked it up for closer inspection, only to find that note, that interesting invitation, rolled up and wrapped in a neat ribbon, waiting for the agents to read it. And boy, were they confused.

At the moment, the thoughts held in their minds were no different. "It say that it is at the edge of Inkopolis Square, and you tell me that the buildings behind Crusty Sean were still Inkopolis parts, so..."

Now Agent 3 was internally facepalming herself. "8... Could you maybe, try to work on your Inklish seriously? We won't be the only ones confused by your broken Inklish, if you can catch my drift..."

"What drift?" The younger inkling asked, confused herself.

Unfortunately, Agent 3 made no response, only smoothing out her dark bomber jacket as she looked ahead, her navy emperials producing the auditory response that 4 did not want to hear: 'just forget about it'.

4 didn't like that, she really didn't. Despite being an inkling just like her, 3 was nowhere near to being a close comrade to her. Every time they had an opportunity to talk, the older agent would just be quiet, silent and distant, answering questions with little response and altogether, being rather asocial. 4 could not understand why she and 8 had such a better relationship, though she could attribute it to how they managed to escape the Deepsea Metro together. Sometimes, she wondered if she would ever become better friends with Agent 3, an inkling that 4 held very high respect for, not only as a mentor but also as an friend-

"So, how much further to the edge of Inkopolis Square?" Agent 3's words pierced the saffron haired inkling's thoughts, cueing her to shake her head gently in an attempt to snap out of her mindscape, her now shorter haircut tentacles barely flapping in her face. There was a whole other story about how Agent 4 changes her hairstyle everyday, but that was for another time.

Instead, she listened to Agent 8's response. "If I'm not wrong, we're reaching the end. I asked Pearl and Marina about the geography of Inkopolis Square and they told me the lesser lights, the further we go."

"Shouldn't you be able to recognise it though?" Agent 4 inquired. "You told me that you guys all fought the NILIS statue around there, right?"

"It's called the NILS statue, 4," Agent 3 gently corrected before continuing. "And I wasn't the one who fought it, Agent 8 did."

Even in the darkness of evening, the inklings could spot a faint blush appearing on 8's cheeks; they somehow stood out even better in her tawny skin. "W-well, yes, but I did get a lot of help..." She admitted humbly as she scratched her head, her fingers lightly brushing against the black fishfry bandana that she wore.

"That must have been so epic though! You, versus an ENTIRE statue! Imagine the thrill of inking that whole thing in 3 minutes! I'd be so stoked and so terrified at the same time!" 4 let out a giggle at the thought of it. Sure, her fight with Octavio was awesome in its own right (heck, it felt so epic that Agent 4 kept wearing her hero headphones even after the fight just to retain the feeling of winning it), but ever since she arrived at Inkopolis Square, 4 felt that her passion was just inking turf non stop. Perhaps that was why she was so active and excited in the Splatfests, since Turf War was the only way to battle other cephalopods during those times.

Upon hearing her giggle, 3 couldn't help but sigh, a small smile creeping near her lips. That innocence and positive energy that Agent 4 had was... contagious, was the word 3 would use. And it really was; regardless of how dire their situation was in a Turf War, Agent 4 always had a smile on her face and the determination to keep inking, even though both 3 and 8 were demoralised by their decreased odds of winning. Despite the fact that the three of them never came close to battling X-ranked players, Agent 4 did not mind it, since she had said time and time again that splatting opponents wasn't the main part about Turf War; painting the floor was.

As 3 had a small recollection of her attitude two years ago, before everything happened, she spotted something on the horizon, a queer building up ahead that, in a way, was ethereally disguised by the rising moon. As the pale star rose higher into the sky, its shimmering light rays glistened on the roof of the building ahead, all made of a material that 3 could not recognise. Truth be told, 3 could barely recognise the whole building at all; its architecture was so starkly different from typical inkling culture. It kind of reminded her of Inkopolis Tower, if there were multiple towers surrounding a main rectangular building and they were all covered in a reddish-brown, cement like material and adorned with windows of small to medium sizes. Before the main entrance of the building was a set of stairs, most likely made out of the same reddish-brown material. Perhaps even stranger still was how the brown path that they have been following this whole time appeared to lead to this building, with no visible signs of a detour. The only thing that stood in the way between them and their destination was a drop in the topography of land in front of the building.

Honestly, the place looked a lot more like a mansion than a clubhouse, but who could say? The darkness tends to hide many things.

"So..." The green haired inkling motioned to her friends. "This is the place?"

At that, the two agents widened their eyes at the sight of the 'clubhouse', moreso for Agent 8; her serene violet eyes were practically glowing in the presence of light. "At the edge of Inkopolis..." Agent 8 mused. "Wow, I don't recognize this building at all."

"Wait, what?" 4 turned to her, bewildered. "You mean you've never seen it before, Eight?"

"No... it wasn't here when I fought the NILS statue, or at least I don't think it was here."

As her own eyes darted around the surrounding sea, 3 clenched her teeth at the painful memory of the Deepsea Metro, a flash of turquoise briefly brushing across her line of sight, and could only hurriedly step forward. "NILS statue or not, we're here. Let's get going, you two." She declared quickly.

As the three agents began their trek up the house on the hill, question burned unanswered. They did not have to talk with each other to know what were they all thinking about; who invited them? What was the occasion of the celebration? Why invite them, a team of not-so-elitist players in the field? Perhaps the most stunning question was how did their mysterious host know their places in the New Squidbeak Splatoon and more importantly, whether this was really meant to be a real happening event.

"This is a really... low dip in the ground, isn't it?"

Upon hearing Agent 4's complaints, Agent 3 could only turn around and huff in slight annoyance. "This is why you shouldn't eat so much of Crusty Sean's shwaffles. They fill your belly a lot, don't they?"

"But they're soooo good!" 4 replied back persistently. "And plus they help me earn more cash!"

"Wouldn't you just go for a Salmon Run for more cash?" Agent 3 noted.

"Splatting salmonids is harder than you think!"

"It can't be any easier than trying to hit a moving, intellectual target who can bomb you in a second-"

"I don't even focus on that! I like turfing more!"

"Right, and you use dualies-"

"So that I can dodge if I have to-"

Even though they were climbing up a rather steep hill, Agent 3 and 4 continued their mini-argument without a moment of rest. To 8, it was quite a spectacle to see. She liked it whenever her friends were talking with each other, even if it was over some trivial matter. At any rate, it was a lot better than seeing octolings barely communicating with each other back in the octarian army. Agent 8 found herself to be more comfortable in the presence of two talking people as compared to dozens of silent soldiers.

But strangely, her ears caught the sound of something. Given that her friends were both wearing headphones, Agent 8 did not blame them for missing it out, but she was certain that it was there. The octoling could hear the strange sound of rippling water, somewhat similar to those fake waves they produced at New Albacore Hotel... Wait a minute, waves?

"Do you guys... hear that?" 8 asked hesitantly, apparently to no one, before her eyes caught sight of a pool of blackness below her. In fact, it was at the exact same place as where the three agents had walked by before mere minutes ago.

The darkness was hindering her field of vision tremendously, but thankfully the full moon's glow offered her a goddess' aid. As soon as she spotted a shine from the space below, she could feel her heart sink to the ground. "Agent 3? Agent 4?" She called them unsure but slightly scared all the same.

At the sound of 8's melodic and piccolo-like voice, the other two inklings turned in her direction, only to be met with faces of surprise. "Is that... water?" Agent 3 couldn't help but ask the air.

Agent 4 could not get her eyes off of the swirling water below, its waves inching closer and closer to where she stood, almost similar to that of a shark. "Is it just me or does it feel like it's getting closer-"

"Agent 4!!"

A loud holler from her octoling friend was enough to snap her out of it and get her to sprint as fast as her punk cherries could carry her. "3!! We gotta get out of here!!" The younger inkling grabbed her mentor's hand as she ran alongside her.

Running, running as fast as they could, the three agents braved the force of gravity weighted upon them, finally reaching the stairs of the building. The quicker sprinter she was, Agent 8 hopped up the stairs in her Sunset Orca Hi-Tops, screaming at the top of her voice. "HEEEEYYYY!!!" As she looked back, her violet eyes shrunk at the sight of the water level, which was already halfway up the hill. If the door didn't open now...

"Open up!! Please!!" As much as she wanted to be well-mannered in Inkopolis, her desperation was driving her to bang her fists on the door. Thankfully, her prayers were answered as the main door swung open halfway, with a pair of playful pink eyes and the sight of a straw boater hat greeting them.

"What's going on out there-HUH?! Who are you-"

"SHUT THE DOOR SHUT THE DOOR SHUT THE DOOR-!!" 3 yelled at him as the three agents dashed their way in, performing somersaults over the entrance and tumbling over a (thankfully soft) carpet. Meanwhile, the figure at the door hurriedly closed off the door, right as the sound of waves crashing came in contact with the hard concrete.

"Oh, thank cod!" Agent 4 heaved breath after breath of relief. "Another minute out there and we would be nothing but paint!"

As the three agents sat on the floor, panting for oxygen, they failed to notice four figures surrounding them, curious murmurs and whispers exchanged between them. The only line of dialogue that caught their attention was spoken by an octoling boy with an afro, who was wearing clothes that definitely did not belong in Inkopolis. "Hold on a second... we don't recognise any of you..."

Upon hearing the new entirely unfamiliar voice, the three agents look up, realising that they were now facing some very very unfamiliar faces. "Uh oh..." was all that Agent 8 could mutter.

At that, the person at the door, an inkling with pink hair in a hipster style, trotted to them, his dazzling eyes staring at the agents in awe, wonder and especially confusion. The words he spoke could easily summarise the thought that everyone in the room was thinking of.

"Who the heck are you guys?"

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