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“I still don’t see what the point of these battles is,” Evin swallowed hard, throat hoarse, she could feel the hard plastic mouth of a Splattershot breathing down her neck. Its round lips sank into the sticky, mint-colored ink of her tentacles, biting at the flesh in the rough way Demi always treated her. Her head swam preemptively, body feeling unreal, as though it had already dissolved. The rules to these practice sessions were simple. No subweapons, beakons wouldn’t save her anyway. No special attacks: a Kraken may spare her with the tiny proximity, but only if she wanted to forfeit. The winner was the girl with fewer splats than her opponent, and their tie was about to break.
“How else are ya gonna get better at close fights?” Demi chided and Evin grimaced. That was the point of the exercise, sure, but it really only made her even more terrified of the inevitable flanks around her sniping positions. Her custom E-Liter was the longest ranged weapon in the game, it was never meant for close range combat, and as such there was no way for her to react fast enough to take an opponent out point-blank. She was starting to feel that Demi just like to use her to stroke her own ego. “Y’know, the real problem’s that you’ve already given up here.”
“You’re three automatic shots away from a splat!” Evin growled helplessly. Almost more uncomfortable than the actual death was the lecture she received from her captain before each one.
“But you’re not even gonna try to fight back?” The other girl pouted, like the sniper was ruining her fun. “Alright, I guess.” She squeezed the trigger and three massive globs of heavy ink splashed into the girl’s head in rapid succession. Thick like blood, the color of the sky, burned like acid when it found meat to gnaw upon. She yelped as her body structure destabilized, not as though she wasn’t accustomed to it, but it was never pleasant. Her vision swirled with screaming enemy blue, but it was better, at least, than falling out of bounds. At least she still had some sense of her body as it split apart and sprayed upon the ground like a mess of gore, smoother and more pleasant to look at. Falling from the map, into a water hazard, those were worse ends than a Splattershot to her head. Struggling for breath against the sunny blue waves of Mahi Mahi’s tide pool or the murky gray waters of Triggerfish Lake, they were the same cold discomfort against her skin. The merciful deity, moderating computer, sparing her the torture of drowning: ending her life as she slipped under. Evaporating into thin air as the respawn system whisked her consciousness back to start after a fall, as well. All familiar sensations, but they never became any easier.
--
Reconstruction had always been the part Evin despised most; the wait for the respawn pad to breathe life back into her limbs was immensely frustrating, her feet half-formed from the ink as her fingers began to wiggle, as she felt the bite of the cool air on her nose. Her butterscotch cheeks were flushed with the verdant hue of the match’s randomly selected color, one she particularly favored. It was always a shame losing when she fought under it, though it looked to be the probable outcome this time.
Familiar was one thing, welcome was another, and very much so was the weight of her chrome sniper rifle forming in her hands as the swirling ink pool fell still. She dove from the platform, landing in the green ink streaked haphazardly around the ground with a soft plunk . The timer on the battle was running low, less than half a minute left to even the score out after her last death. Sometimes she wished that she used the classic build of the E-Liter 3k, the burst bombs it boasted were better suited to consistent close range defense- but the recon utility of the kit was one their team composition already had. Or at least, that was her most vocal excuse for her own stubbornness.
The timer had nearly expired by the time Evin had located her opponent- the position Demi had taken was strategic. As Evin landed on the final platform before mid-stage, she had a choice: Fall back, just for a moment, and hope to heaven that she had enough time to charge up a lethal shot, or make a move for the tower where Demi sat. The technical objective of the match, the one that rules stated would push overtime. She could risk another close-quarters fight with the captain, likely ending in another death of her own, but also the only conceivable way to even the score. She sported no damage buffs and the time left was growing slimmer by the second, single-digits remaining: she could count on her instincts that told her she did not have the time to be cautious. In a split second, she made her decision: make the captain proud. Using her momentum from the fall, she surged forwards towards the end of the platform and made a leap towards the blue mass, slowly chugging along its glowing track that lead over the edge of the map, the seemingly-endless abyss that was the drop from Moray Towers.
She landed short, faceful of Demi’s ink smeared up the wall greeting her kid form as she hooked her fingers into the metal-grate ledge for just long enough to pop a few shots onto the tower’s side and swim up to the top. It ground to a halt beneath her and the match timer dropped to zero, signalling overtime: the first to fall from the tower would be the loser.
“Cocky,” Demi smirked and sank into her ink atop the box. Evin poked at the ground around her feet with uncharged shots, providing herself with standing ground in the tiny battle arena. Demi reemerged, landing a quick hit on Evin’s leg as she reclaimed a bite of her territory and put the sniper, out of her element in this fast paced, close range environment, one shot closer to another brutal loss.
“But that’s better than cowardly,” Evin replied hurriedly and laid a quick line over Demi’s suspected hiding spot, forcing her back out into the air and landing a tap on her back. She was still at a major disadvantage, though: an E-Liter’s damage was minimal without a charge. While Demi’s rapid fire Splattershot could down her in three quick globs the size of a fist, Evin needed to land four tiny taps to achieve the same, made all the more difficult with the pole of the tower separating their own patches of ink. The larger girl continued to play defensively, hiding in the ink again; Evin assumed only so to give her the practice she needed- at the end of their fight, surely she would finish her off for her blasphemous confidence.
Without warning, Demi emerged from the ink again, hooking a firm grip onto the tower’s spire and lunging with her weapon. Evin panicked, still yet to recover from the last shot, dropping to her knees to avoid the rapid fire spray and pulling down on the trigger of her E-Liter to begin a charge, her last chance. Demi followed her down, and without thinking, Evin swung the canister of her weapon towards her captain’s legs.
Before the heavy metal hit skin, Evin wanted to recoil, at least so she didn’t hit very hard. The ink flying while the two girls’ motion upset it seemed to slow in midair, round droplets malforming as they graced her cheeks, but she was unable to stop the momentum of the gun. Physical violence in ink battles wasn’t exactly illegal, but if someone were to hit an opponent in a real match everyone would stop and stare. A smack to the face startled someone, sure, but it wasn’t a splat, and you risked a serious ban for really hurting someone. Nobody wanted to win that badly until you got to the very highest competitive ranks, somewhere Evin hoped never to see.
The bulk of the canister collided just below Demi’s knees. She didn’t make much of a sound, but the surprise was apparent on her face. Normally intimidating, sinister pink eyes widened behind the dark frames of her Arrowband glasses and she toppled backwards, off balance from the strike. Evin jumped at the unexpected opportunity. A subtle beep, one her ears always trained for, finished off the charge process and in a flash, she raised the long silver nozzle level with her line of sight.
Superimposed over her captain, friend, temporary enemy was her favorite image: the graceful curves of the E-Liter’s figure, straightening into the throat as long as her own leg that channeled supercharged ink into a powerful burst, exploding from such a tiny opening. Being struck by a charger, that was truly the worst death of all. It came out of nowhere, usually, a well placed strike could blow you out from underneath your own ink with one hot, burning shot. There was no buildup, no time to prepare yourself for your own body to evaporate. Charged ink traveled like lightning, but it had no qualms about striking the same place twice. Recoil shook her arms, rattling through her body, made her feel as though the very fibers of her being were set into motion, as she released the shot. The horror in Demi’s features exaggerated, trying desperately to move out of the way. There was not an inkling alive on the planet that could dodge fast enough to avoid a close range, fully charged shot from any sniper weapon, let alone the grand beast of them all, the E-Liter.
Watching someone else succumb to a snipe was like a dream, watching their body explode suddenly. It looked to be an act of a force divine, lapped up by the tongue of a god. The power one held in their arms when toting even a lesser gun was unreal. Demi, now, at the very least had a chance to ready herself for the pain, because there was no stopping it.
A rope of ink struck Demi’s bare neck, a deadly kiss, piercing her throat as it simultaneously disappeared around the shot. Evin’s own green ink, the disruptor, took control of Demi’s blue. Her form unfurled from the inside out, leaving nothing but a puddle in her wake. The shot echoed throughout the entire stage, Evin wouldn’t be surprised if the city goers hundreds of stories below heard the great crack and sching , like the sharpening of a thick knife, as well. In stark contrast, the unaware game mechanic, the tower, chirped its cheery tune once more. It traveled backwards along the path it had taken while Demi had controlled it, passing the midpoint of the stage. Evin sat still atop it, weapon hardly lowered an inch as she poured her eyes over the mess where Demi had stood.
--
The two girls exited the battle lobby in silence. Evin dared not peek up through her bangs to catch sight of Demi’s face, the taller girl stood stiff with her bag slung haphazardly over her shoulder- a failed ruse of nonchalance. She had won a match, finally, if not by slightly dubious means. Demi had always been a sore loser, she knew, but she had grown accustomed to the comforting lull of the captain’s voice, telling her she was improving after a loss. Bitterness surrounded them, emanating from both, enough to make Evin regret taking the shot at all. It was only lucky, of course, and winning a match on pure luck wouldn’t help her in the long run.
“I’m sorry,” she squeaked, tightening her grip on the strap of her weapon bag, cross-body over her slim shoulders. “You should have won, I just-”
“Shut up,” Demi barked, and Evin nearly leapt from the ground. Braced for her captain’s wrath, she stopped walking and held her breath. She watched Demi’s throat, tried to keep herself from recalling that thrill that had rushed down her spine as her ink tore through the delicate flesh. Demi inhaled sharply, casting her gaze down to the ground. The soft light from the half-full moon hanging in the onyx sky bounced off the plastic frames of her Arrowbands. “You won. Fair and square.”
“I- what?” The shorter girl prepared another apology, only to cut herself off.
“I said, you won fair.You beat me,” Demi sighed, breaking her straight posture, cocking her hip and shoving her hands in the pockets of her unbuttoned red flannel. “That was a great shot, you deserved it. I’m happy for you.” Evin adopted the stillness herself, gripping her bag strap tight as she looked over those pink eyes again. Even behind the lenses of her glasses, she felt the sincerity, unable to find malice no matter how deep she dug. Demi flashed a toothy smile and Evin melted. All it took was a gesture, open arms, and she came running. Demi caught her, slipping hands beneath her arms and lifting her feet from the asphalt, hiking her legs up around her waist.
“I don’t tell you that enough, do I?” Demi murmured, lips pressed against her bangs, she pulled back slightly to look for a response. Evin shrugged and remained silent, not one to ruin a moment with talk. Demi pursed her lips with a chuckle and leaned back in to press a soft kiss to Evin’s round nose, swipe a thumb over her cheek. “I’m sorry, darlin’, you know I love you.”
“I wouldn’t mind hearing it more,” Evin whispered, dangling her own arms over Demi’s shoulders.
“‘Course you wouldn’t,” Demi huffed in agreement, turning towards the train station across the plaza with Evin still in her arms. “I love you, I’m so proud of you. Havin’ you out there with me, watchin’ my back, no one else in this city could make me feel safer,” She cooed gently.
“Really?” Evin mumbled, green flushing her cheeks. She’d been bested by countless more experienced snipers.
“Really,” Demi grinned and pecked another tiny kiss onto her jaw. “Let’s say tomorrow, you an’ me, we put this practice to good use?”
“You mean-” Evin let her breath out sharply as Demi squeezed her side in confirmation.
“Yep. Ranked, just us,” Evin nodded vigorously. To have Demi entrust such importance to her, it was frightening, sure, but to know how highly Demi must think of her-
“Yes, yes, please!” She took over their embrace, digging her heels into Demi’s waist and lifting her glasses from atop her nose, tucking them safely on top of her head. Demi smirked and leaned in subtly to meet the eager little kiss that Evin had waiting for her.