Hey! It's Dusty! I decided to write a small story over how the stresses of escaping the test facility can be overwhelming to a 14 year old octoling (maybe not even 14 years old). I thought it'd be a neat concept, highlighting the emotional toll the events of Splatoon can take on the protagonists.

I don't know how many chapters this will be, but I'm writing this entirely for fun! Happy reading! I really hope yall like it.

"Nonononononono! No!"

It was the eighth time Agent 8 went through all the lives on this level. Girl Power was its title, featuring a group of...octolings? If you could even call them that. And an orb, that has to be protected from them.

To a person who didn't know better, otherwise known as Agent 8 from two hours ago, this would sound somewhat easy. Eight was pretty agile and could maneuver himself pretty well in tight situations, so this seemed like a piece of cake. The shooter weapon, the...octoshot? It didn't look like an octoshot, but it behaved very similarly to one. The 'octoshot' was the weapon Eight selected, simply because it's type was the one he was most familiar with. The 'octoshot' fit very nicely in his hands, and when he first grasped it he could almost taste victory from the power he knew it contained.

Oh, how wrong he was.

Time after time, again and again did Eight fail the mission. Those 'octolings' with the odd voices were quick to overwhelm him on the field, he simply just wasn't fast enough to eliminate them all in time. His heartbeats would always pound in his round ears as he rushed from one location to the next, but he'd never make it in time. One moment he'd be working on taking out the one that had a roller, and the next he'd discover one that had a slosher was quickly working at destroying the orb.

It frustrated him, it really did. Each time Eight went into the mission, he'd push himself harder and harder, doing his damned best to sprint from one location to the next and splat all the octolings in time. Yet somehow, someway, one would always get through. The worst part about it was how he'd never make it to the suspect in time, he'd always take just a second too long. It happened when he was taking a breather, when he was dealing with another octoling, and when he was trying to find a special to deal with them. One always got in. He didn't even know where they were coming from, they just somehow managed to break through the crates when he'd accidentally turn away for two seconds. Next thing he knew, that stupid cucumber would utter the same, stupid, fucking phrase in his earpiece and that inflatable bomb would go off on his back.

"Test failed."

Now Eight was standing back in the station, his CQ card in his right hand as he took in a breath, getting ready to put the card up to the scanner in the turnstyle and launch himself into battle yet again. He didn't bother keeping track of how much of the odd currency he had left, he simply just didn't care anymore at this point. He was tired, exhausted. He wanted to be over with this.

"I suggest for you to take a rest." The blue cucumber spoke up to his left, crawling along the wall and leaving a trail of slime in his path. C.Q. Cumber.

Eight let out a sharp exhale and firmly grasped the CQ card in his hand, his built up frustration slowly coming to the surface, "I don't need a break."

Cumber was silent for a moment, then spoke up in a bit of a stern tone, "I simply was just recommending it. Repeatedly taking a test for so long will take its toll on anyone."

"I don't need a break." Agent 8 spat again, running his card along the scanner and rushing into the stage after an unknown amount of tries. He mocked the cucumber in his mind as he chose the 'octoshot' once more, entering the launchpad and readying himself for the eventual failure he knew would come.

...

He lost.

He lost miserably.

He got overwhelmed on the first try, almost immediately. The second try he almost had a fighting chance, but those fucking octos pushed back and pushed back hard. The tries after that were just hell. Pure, miserable hell. The five minutes required to defend the orb weren't even halfway done when he got splatted all those times. It made him sick, it made him angry, it made him want to punch something.

Respawning into the station platform once again, Eight took in another deep breath and stepped up to the turnstyle again, reaching out his card to put it to the scanner for the upteenth time that hour. He was on the verge of losing his temper after all this time, so if anyone were to s-

"Take care out there." C.Q. Cumber spoke up, laying on the ground this time. "I really suggest for you to take a b-"

"Shut. The fuck up." Eight muttered under his breath while gritting his teeth, clenching the card in his hand as his temper flared.

Gasps and words of objection filled his earpiece, the three adults who were talking to him and giving him the same repetitive words of motivation over the past couple of hours clearly taking issue with his statement.

"Eight! You shouldn't sa-"

"Agent 8, that is in no way a response you shou-"

"Eight, what the hell is your problem?!" Pearl finished up the clutter of words, sounding rather pissed. "He's just doing his job, lay off of him."

"I don't fucking care!" Eight finally yelled, anger pouring out of his words, "I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I just want to make it up to the promised land already! This test is fucking bullshit!"

There was a tense pause as Eight took in a couple breaths, the young teen already starting to shake due to his anger boiling over.

C.Q. Cumber rose up onto his hind legs and turned himself to Eight's direction, "Pardon? I was giving you a suggestion, there's no need to use that kind of language."

He slowly made his way over to the teen, each inch he crossed only making Eight's patience dwindle down further and further. Eight was seriously starting to grow annoyed with the conductor, both from his slow movements and his lack of empathy of any kind when he failed test after test after test.

"Being able to take these tests is a privilege," The cucumber spoke up again after rising back onto his hind legs, "I can revoke that privilege at any time for any reason as I see fit. You're very lucky to have made it this far, it'd be a waste to lose all of tha-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

A stunned silence filled the area, nobody knowing how to react. Agent 8 himself was even shocked by the words that had come out of his mouth, but he definitely didn't feel any guilt nor regret.

"Eight, that was just too far-"

"I need to have a stern word with you in the trai-"

"Stop while you still can, Eight." Pearl ended the cluster of words once more, a warning tone to her voice, "C.Q. doesn't seem like the type to mess around."

Eight mocked her with an emphasized high pitched voice, "'C.Q. doesn't seem like the type to mess around.' Look at my face. Do you see it?" He pointed at his face and made a point to look as dead inside as possible, "This is the face of 'not giving a shit'. I don't give a shit. I just want to pass this test and get a fucking move on. So take your 'stop while you can' bullshit and shove it up your ass."

"Eight, this isn't cute. Stop it." Marina spoke up with a firm voice, "You're going to ruin your chances of getting to the surface! Please just- just calm down."

"I'm NOT going to fucking 'calm down'," Eight exaggerated his statement with air quotes from his fingers, "I'm going to pass into that turnstyle, get into the level, beat the level, and then come back here with another fucking memcake. Even if I die trying."

And with that, Eight stomped his way over to the turnstyle and moved to swipe his card over the scanner yet again. Only, he didn't hear the click and the jingle of the turnstyle registering it. Ears twitching in agitation, he swiped his card over the scanner again. And again. Over and over he swiped his card, furiously trying to get it to register, but to no avail.

Shrieking from overflowing anger, the young octoling threw his CQ card to the ground and ferociously began kicking at the turnstyle's doors blocking his path. The doors rattled and shaked with each impact, but they wouldn't give in no matter how much force the octoling put into his kicks.

"I switched off the power to the turnstyle." Cumber piped up, slithering along the wall yet again, "You won't be able to access it."

Eight stood back away from the turnstyle, turned to C.Q. Cumber, and promptly pointed at it. "Turn it back on."

"I cannot."

"Why the hell not?" He hissed, tapping his leather boot against the floor and folding his arms in a stubborn manner.

"Subjects with revoked test privileges cannot access them."

A sharp pain stabbed itself though Eight's chest as he slowly registered what the cucumber had said. Nothing but disbelief was in his mind and on his face as he took a step back, and another. Dread filled up the octo's stomach as the impact of the words began to affect him.

"Y-You...What?" He asked blankly, looking up at the little conductor with an empty stare.

"Subjects with revoked test privileges cannot access them." Cumber repeated, still slithering along the wall with seemingly no remorse in his mind, "I suggest you leave the station and mark a new destination."

Eight slowly shook his head, whispering denials to himself. He stepped back up to the turnstyle and began pushing at the doors, silently begging to himself that they'd open up and let him try again.

"Turn on the turnstyle." He instructed to C.Q. Cumber once again, only to get the same response.

"I cannot."

"Turn on the turnstyle."

"I cannot."

"Turn. On. The. Turnstyle."

"I cannot."

"TURN ON THE FUCKING TURNSTYLE!"

"Subjects with revoked test privileges cannot access them."

Eight paused, his ear twitching ever so slightly. Then, without hesitation, he proceeded to let out a huge scream, making everyone yelp and even C.Q. Cumber jump. With that, the impatient octoling rushed at the turnstyle, kicking it where he could and clawing at it viciously, doing his best to leave dents and scratches. Eight poured all his energy into the violence, feeling just like electricity was surging through him and giving him great power. He didn't care about the consequences anymore, he was just so fucking frustrated.

Unfortunately for Eight, in the blind fit of anger while scratching at the turnstyle's metal, he managed to swing his arm wrong and awkwardly jam his fingers against it. He let out a loud yelp and promptly sunk to the ground, the pain radiating from his fingers putting his temper tantrum to an abrupt halt. He grimaced deeply in agony as he writhed on the ground while using his other hand to clutch his injured appendages, already starting to regret that whole ordeal from the very beginning.

Sucking in sharp breaths through his gritted teeth, the octoling didn't even notice C.Q. Cumber approaching him, slithering as slowly as ever.

"At this rate, the chances of you ascending to the promised land is little to nothing." He spoke quietly in a somber voice, "Attempting to pass the turnstyle manually is futile. You failed, Agent 8. The tests will not be accessible for you any longer."

That same sharp pain from earlier dug itself even deeper into Eight's chest as he laid there on the ground, his mind going blank. He really did it. He really did it this time. Two hours of the same test over and over, all down the drain. And what for, his pride? What a joke.

Eight curled in on himself, reality starting to set in. He really was a joke. A failure. He could've asked Pearl and Marina for their help to skip the stage entirely, but his ego got into the way. Ever since he started thinking independently, things just weren't going right. This was a prime example. He really was starting to regret starting this whole thing, getting his hopes up. He'd never make it to the promised land, much less to even freedom.

Eight really wished he never heard that stupid song.

"Shu-shu...Shut…" He stuttered in a weak, croaky voice. One last attempt to try and do...whatever it is he wanted to do. He didn't even know why he was antagonizing C.Q. Cumber at this point, he was just mindlessly directing his anger at him. Having his own emotions and independent thoughts really sucked. He hated it. He hated it a lot.

In his fit of self pity and anger, Eight's eyes began to sting just as much as his fingers did. His breath began to hitch as a high pitched, terribly hidden whine escaped from his mouth. Hot tears escaped from his eyes, leaving wet trails on his face that led to the ground. It took him a moment to even realize he was starting to cry, which in a sick twist made it even harder to try and stop.

Over the next couple of seconds, Agent 8's breaths got faster and faster, hiccups randomly occurring and making his experience even more miserable. The young teen covered his eyes with an arm draped over his face, remembering that three adults were seeing him like this. He already was embarrassed enough from his incompetence alone, but having people watching him melt down over it was torture.

"I-I…" He hiccuped, threatening to start full on sobbing any second, "I wis-wish...I wish that I-I nev-never heard tha...that….."

He couldn't even finish his sentence before he broke out into tears, everything going wrong increasing in magnitude tenfold. Loud, pitiful wails escaped his mouth as he laid on the ground, the octo doing nothing to try and stifle them. He was a mess. A joke, an absolute joke. Promised land? Promised land his ass. There wasn't a promised land. Not for him, anyway.

The silence from the three adults was broken by Marina, who spoke up in a soft, pitying voice, "Hey...You don't mean that."

Eight shook his head as his sobbing grew harsher, refusing to listen to anything they had to say. By this point his face was wet with big, globby tears and a small trail of snot running from his nose. His cheeks were hot with embarrassment and shame, his lips trembling with each sob that left his mouth.

"Eight..."

He covered his ears to signal that he still wasn't willing to listen, despite the earpiece being able to bypass his hands easily. Even through all of this, he was still feeling stubborn. He felt like he lost control of everything, the least he could do at this point was refuse to listen to anything that the adults had to say. But...even though he wanted control, he felt even worse by his actions, realizing he was still acting like a stubborn brat instead of owning up to himself.

"Look, Eight," Pearl took the lead, "You feel like shit right now, I get it. We all have those times. But you have to cut it out."

He could feel the next wave of tears coming already. He definitely felt like shit, and Pearl's harsh words definitely weren't helping him at all.

M.C. Princess took up the speaker once more, "Even though you ruined your chances of making it to the surface through these tests, you still gotta get up off your ass. You can find another way up here, you just gotta start searching."

Eight held back his hiccups and sniffled quietly, "...H-How?"

There was a quick pause.

"I...I dunno." Pearl admitted with a bitter tone, "But I say that you first apologize to Mr. Cumber over there."

"Yeah, apologize." Marina piped in, "That's the first step in getting back onto your feet. You can find another way up, but the right thing to do is at least say sorry for your behavior."

Eight furrowed his brow and sat up, wiping off his face with the sleeve of his odd crop top. As the last few hiccups left his mouth and the last few tears left his eyes, he began to come to terms with his predicament. They were right, they were both right. He could still find a way to the promised land, he just had to try harder. He also...had to apologize. He wasn't thinking straight before, and he ended up ruining his chances of perhaps the safest, easiest, most direct route to the promised land.

With one more sigh, Eight stood up on to his feet, stumbling lightly due to still feeling a little weak. He turned himself in the direction of C.Q. Cumber, the blue slug sitting a small distance away from him, looking up at the octoling expectantly.

Agent 8 took in a deep breath and swallowed his pride. His pride was the thing that doomed him, so he had no choice but to put it down for now and own up to his actions.

Twiddling his thumbs and looking off to the side in a shy and ashamed manner, Eight stepped up to Cumber and gently murmured out an apology.

"Mr. Cumber? I'm...uh…" He hesitated, "I'm sorry."

…

"That's it?!" An exclamation came from his earpiece.

Eight jumped and looked around wildly, briefly forgetting the earpiece altogether and the people connected to it.

"You gotta say more than that, yo!" Pearl instructed, "That's the most half-assed apology I've ever heard! And for what you did? Pshh, I would turn you away in a heartbeat and kick you to the curb."

Anger flaring up again, Eight took in a sharp breath and prepared to bite back a rude statement but then held his tongue. She was right. He hated to admit it, but she was right.

Eight clenched his fists, swallowed as much pride as he could, and stared down at C.Q. Cumber with a stern gaze, "Mr. Cumber, I'm really sorry for what I did. My actions were unforgivable and childish. I should have listened to your advice and I truly do apologize for my behavior. I really hope you can forgive me."

No words were said for at least ten, long seconds between the two. Eight could feel his ears tilt down in disappointment, figuring that Cumber wasn't interested in hearing any more words from him. Hot tears threatened to prick at the corners of his eyes, but Eight blinked them back and turned his direction to the halted train toward the back of the station. He blew it. Next course of action was to central station, then maybe finding a way to climb out of there.

In the middle of Agent 8's stride to the train's entrance, a small voice picked up.

"I accept your apology."

Eight whipped around just in time to see C.Q. Cumber switch back on the turnstyle with a single appendage, the object making a small jingle as it came back to life.

"Holy shit." Pearl uttered from his earpiece, nothing but awe in her voice.

"You hear that, Agent 8? That means you can keep on truckin' through the tests!" Cap'n Cuttlefish cheered, an odd amount of feedback filtering his voice.

"Wipe the tears off your face and keep going!" Marina encouraged, "You can do this, Eight! I believe in you!"

"I believe in you too!"

"We all believe in you!"

Stepping back up to the turnstyle, Eight picked up the CQ card he had thrown down just minutes ago, wiping it off against his pants and holding it up against the scanner. He turned his gaze to C.Q. Cumber, who was back on the wall and slithering along at his own pace.

"Thank you."

C.Q. Cumber tilted his hat at him with a single stretched appendage, "My pleasure."

Looking back at the turnstyle, Agent 8 got into a ready stance and prepared to launch himself into battle once again. With a determined grin on his face and a new freshness in his mind, he propelled himself into the test once again and decided to try out the splat roller weapon for once, just to see what it was like.

He had a pretty good feeling about this one.