The halls were still too dark for Void to see anything, but they could hear a vaguely familiar, but not quite nameable voice around the corner. Sounded like they were talking to someone. Void leaned against the wall and listened:
"Well, someone's been busy since walking out on the company. Virtual singers, news segments..."
"Number 9120? Preposterous. They were a defect. Dysfunctional even after our attempts at fixing them."
They grimaced upon hearing that number. Yep, those people were talking about him.
"A defect, but a skilled one nonetheless. Their security measures were top-notch... 10008 notwithstanding."
"What I'm hearing is that it was 9120's mistake that nearly destroyed our work. If the commander were here, it would have them eliminated now, and we can finally move on from that setback."
"We don't make up nor speculate on orders, simply follow the ones we were given. 9120 came back here willingly, so surely they can be negotiated with. It would be a waste of material not to try, at least."
"You say that like there's a still a shortage of material. That so-called 'music group' led so many potential subjects here, so why now?"
"Something's wrong with the surveillance cameras in A00."
A sanitized Octoling marched out into view, made visible from the light of that ink trail.
"9120, you're awake. You are needed in the next room," she said to Void before continuing onward.
Void was going to say something, but the Octoling left before he could open his mouth. He simply entered the room, being welcomed by another bright flash.
"Argh, would it splat you to have proper lighting around here?" they snarled.
An elite Octoling stood in front of Void, pushing up her goggles. "We're having... technical difficulties outside. Reserving power only for vital areas," she said flatly.
"This room is vital... how?"
"Irrelevant. You call yourself... Void, yes?"
"No need to answer. The tacky idol clothing says it all."
"Like any of you would know what's fresh."
"Trivial fashion choices aside, I was told to bring you here to help with some hiccups within our operations. Things just haven't been the same since the incident."
"Bold of you to think I'd help Kamabo."
"Are you sure? This report tells me that you were issuing complaints about the Deepsea Metro being delayed. With your assistance, we could get the trains up and running again, and your... bandmates... can leave. You all could be saved."
"Don't you want a second chance at seeing the Promised Land, Void? I have records of all your newscasts. Your popularity ratings in comparison to the other members of Colorgraphic. We even have your memories. You had so much potential, and to this day, it's being wasted..."
"What the shell are you talking about?"
"... See for yourself, Void." The elite pulled a little mem cake out of the pocket of her labcoat and placed it in Void's hand. It was shaped like an Octoseeker.
"Wh-" Void flinched. They glanced at the morsel, then at the other Octoling, and then back at the mem cake. They could recall... something.
A secluded spot in one of the domes at Octo Canyon. Void was working with another Octoling, showing them a blueprint.
"It controls just like a claw machine, so even the most basic of Octotroopers would be able to pick it up without much training," he explained. "You see an Inkling poking around where it shouldn't? Simply drop down and crush it like the vermin it is."
"... We could end up in the Wasabi Supply Unit with this."
"It's great, right?"
"Gotta say, you've picked up this engineering stuff really fast for someone who just got kicked from the infantry," his colleague remarked. "Guess that transition really was worth it, huh?"
Void's hearts sank. He knew they intended that in an encouraging way, but it still hurt knowing that he'd never be able to serve on the front lines. All the Octoling soldiers were women, and as much as he'd like to be in on the action, keeping up the act of behaving as a woman to do so would've been... crushing. They'd tolerated that for long enough. Oh well, you can't have everything.
"Every Octarian has their role, I guess. Glad they could at least find something for me."
"And that role is totally as a hero to the Octarian army! With your skill and my charisma, we'll be legends! An honor to our kind, like Ida."
"I wouldn't go that far, Argo. It's just the first iteration."
"I would."
They both laughed, and that was the last Void could remember of that conversation.
"This is... from when I designed the Octoseeker," they said, blinking as they snapped back to reality.
"That was you?" The elite feigned surprise. "The records state that a certain Argo Notto invented that weapon."
"Argo... You mean he...?"
"Took all the credit for your work? It sounds like that's what happened. But surely it's not the only time your contributions were underappreciated. You're talented, but unrefined, and a victim of an unjust, greedy world. You can make things right, Void. For yourself and for your peers. Don't you want that?"
Void shakily closed his fist around the mem cake and stared at the floor.
"I'll take your silence as a yes. Come along, we have work to do."
