Elizabeth Summers was about to die.

Not because she was doing anything dangerous—an innocent game of cards could hardly be considered dangerous—but because Alex knew everything about the girl. They knew Elizabeth was a talented profreshional for Grizzco Industries, and often signed up for as many Salmon Run shifts as she could get. They knew the girl lived on the third floor of Reefside Apartments—unit number 33, on the far left side of the hallway—and Alex thought it was a perfect choice. And they knew she was in the last hours of her life, which was something not even Elizabeth knew about herself. Why?

Because Alex would be the one to kill her.

"Uh, Alex…was it?"

"…Yeah?" Alex tore their sight from the target—a little late to the reply than what they would've liked. The name was just a throwaway fake one as per usual, but they still weren't used to responding to it. The cacophonous uproar of the packed pub wasn't much of a help either; it was two hours after dinnertime and Alex was used to scenery with sweet, soft silence.

"Here's your drink." The bartender slid the cocktail across the counter, and Alex took a moment to wonder how such a gruff shove could skim a glass without spilling a single drop. It was a good excuse to avoid eye contact with the giant crab—holding a gaze would make him more likely to remember Alex. They swept a few coins across the bar and slipped away to one of the empty booths far from the counter crowded with drunken Inklings, Octolings, and the occasional jellyfish.

Alex took the seat facing the bar's entrance, making sure not to splash a conspicuous stain on their gray hoodie; no one wanted to look at ugly gray, and Alex wanted it to stay that way. They allowed a sip from their cocktail—wisps of sweetness sparkling over a dour undertone of blackcurrant brandy—to blend in with other patrons before raising a hand to ensure their hood was still down. Any attempt to conceal their face would force Alex to stick out like a sore chromatophore, drawing unwanted attention at best and destroying their chances of slipping past the police at worst. Staying so unimpressively normal was like draping an invisibility cloak around their shoulders—but the more memorable Alex became, the more holes punched through that cloak.

But Elizabeth Summers was still the carefully-crafted centerpiece of Alex's vision—not that she would've been hard to miss. The Inkling had won her previous game and decided to celebrate by dancing on the table, despite her friends' protests. Alex smirked as they absently played with the zipper on their black duffel bag; the girl must've had more than a few drinks already. This kill would be almost too easy.

Elizabeth's friends had decided it was time to put the drunken target to bed, and began bustling her out the door. Perfect. Alex waited for the oak door to close before counting the seconds in their head.

Five…

Four…

Three…

Two…

One…

Ready or not, here I come. Alex calmly stood from their booth and ditched the cocktail. The killer strode out the door and onto Inkopolis' blackened streets. Shimmering frost crunched under Alex's boots as they glided down the bare street, leaving crushed powder behind the gaggle of innocents. A sharp inhale pulled cold, crisp air into Alex's lungs as they decided to waste a little time by admiring the sparkling stars overhead. Elizabeth and her friends hadn't gotten as much of a headstart as Alex would've liked—probably because the girl could walk as well as a drunken flamingo. Alex slowed their pace to craft some distance between killer and prey; it wouldn't do to follow so closely.

Elizabeth's posse stopped at Reefside Apartments, and her killer pretended to be interested in a nearby Squicked flyer. Alex thanked their lucky stars that the street was almost empty; less passerby meant less faces to avoid. They waited to hear the door to the main lobby close and began to count another eight seconds when they saw the lone Octoling leaning on a streetlamp. Two irises gleaming like blue rings nodded back at Alex, who respectfully dipped their head as they walked past the woman and into Reefside Apartments.

Alex took a seat near the stairwell on the second floor just below Elizabeth's apartment, taking the time to ensure they were past the lobby's camera before reaching into their pocket. Fingers curled around bulky goggles and a thumb brushed against the familiar emblem branded onto cold steel. The killer pulled the Octoleet Goggles from the hoodie and fastened the clasp behind their head like so many times before; they couldn't remember how often they'd donned the goggles again, and again, and again, and again, and again…

…

Alex was welcomed to a world of cold blues, normal greens, and warm reds. The thermal vision told them Elizabeth's friends had left her alone in the apartment—it was time to strike. Alex's gaze glanced out the window as the killer swept their way up the staircase, admiring the frigid indigo outside. The weather had gotten a lot colder since Alex's last hit.

The killer's feet landed on the third floor and made their way to unit 33—on the far left side of the hallway. Perfect choice; it was secluded from the rest of the apartments and away from prying eyes. Alex's gloved finger pressed 33's doorbell as their thermal lens watched Elizabeth's red blob in the living room.

"Who is it?" Elizabeth's slurred breath sang.

"Pizza delivery." Alex calmly replied; they were always surprised how many cephalopods opened the door for pizza.

"Did I order—" Elizabeth began to crack the door open. Alex took advantage of the opportunity, pushing themselves inside and locking the door before the Inkling could protest. A brief heartbeat sank between them as Alex chambered their strike and Elizabeth's drunken mind raced to process.

Alex struck swiftly and expertly, decking two knuckles through Elizabeth's right temple. The girl collapsed to the ground but Alex didn't have any time to waste. They grabbed the unconscious Inkling by the shoulders and dragged her to the living room, leaving her back lying on the blue carpet. Alex slung their black bag to the ground and unzipped it to pull the wiry brella from its concealed case. They set the weapon on the ground to dive their hands back into the bag, rummaging around until they produced a thick syringe of clear liquid. Alex unscrewed the lid of the brella's tank and carefully injected the reagent straight into the ink. After screwing the lid back on and giving the brella a couple shakes to mix the fluids, the murder weapon was ready.

Alex rose to stand over the unconscious girl, watching her body glow red with life. They lifted the brella to Elizabeth's chest and tapped the trigger as dark green ink sprayed over the victim. Alex lowered the weapon and clicked its safety back on before setting it on the cocktail table—one shot was all they needed. They prepped the scene a little more—including using a disinfectant wipe to clean any incriminating surfaces—before packing both brella and syringe back into the duffel and slinging it back over their shoulder. After picking the lock to the window, Alex slipped out of Elizabeth's apartment and vanished down the fire escape under a clear sky of twinkling, golden stars.

It was such a beautiful night for a kill.

A/N: Hi there!

Welcome to Broken Truth! I know that was probably…quite the introduction, so I'll try to keep my rambles short so you can get right to processing what the heck just happened.

Broken Truth is Caught in a Lie's sequel, in case you forgot to read the summary haha. But before you stop reading 'cause you don't have time to catch yourself up—Caught in a Lie is pretty easy to summarize. Basically all I have to say is "S2's Hero Mode" and you've got all you need to understand Broken Truth. BUT—I highly recommend reading it if you have the time. I added some really important stuff to the vanilla campaign that I'll be expanding on in this story, so you might find yourself missing a lot of inside references if you skip Caught in a Lie.

As for "Alex"…I intentionally picked a gender neutral name and pronoun use so I wouldn't give the killer's gender away. Alex is a fake name to keep police off the trail and the killer doesn't identify by they/them. I wanted to use this prologue to bring you right next to the killer and give you access to certain clues the good guys won't have straightaway, but not make things so obvious you already know who to look for. Just wanted to clarify that so you don't go looking around for a gender-neutral character and miss everything.

And disclaimer—insert obligatory "Phoenix does not condone the underage or irresponsible consumption of alcohol" here. Please drink legally and responsibly—and not only will you stave off Korsakoff's Syndrome, you'll even get to thwart crazy murderers as a side bonus!

Ok, authorly rant is over. The hunt for "Alex" will begin soon, and I hope you'll return for the next chapter.

~RisingPhoenix56

(Credit/plz don't sue me section:

-My dysgraphic self can't draw to save my life, so the credit for the cover art goes to my pal Shadow Lighter who did an awesome, awesome job.

-I do not own Splatoon or its registered IPs. Please support the original release.)