It’s not easy growing up in the depths of the northeast Pacific. You’ve got to be able to defend yourself; it’s not like those parts south of here with their ritzy coral houses and friendly neighborhood ocean patrol. No, here in the N-E-P you vouch for yourself, you watch your back because you don’t know who or what is just around the algae patch.
As a squid it’s even worse. The underground drug deals run rampant and the hottest drug on the market, Black Ice, is made by refining squid ink. That makes us a target. The gangbangers run the drift searching for squid like me, harvesting their ink by squeezing the life right out of them.
I didn’t want to live in fear, so I did something about it; I found Murwey, rather, he found me.
You see, I have this job, it may not be the easiest or safest way to make pearl but it pays the bills and provides shrimp for my little ones, or as I call them, my squeegees. Little did I know it would cost me more than it’s worth, my mate.
I work for a delivery service that runs goods and supplies into the local slums, real rough areas littered with gangbangers. I encountered some not-so-friendly folk, a group of barracudas looking to jack my supplies and sell them on the black market for profit.
I was surrounded, they were closing in. I had no option, I laid down the supplies and offered it to them, but that wasn’t all they wanted. They wanted me, my ink. I looked to bolt and tried to jet but a shot of pain was sent up a tentacle. Blood diffused through the water as my appendage was cut short and part held firmly in the mouth of an adversary, this was it, there was no escape.
A swarm of tentacles filled the surrounding area and suddenly I float alone in the vast expanse. A cloaked figure, eight arms strong approached me, passed to me a flattened, hardened piece of algae with etchings stating a location, and left as quick as it appeared.
I finished my delivery; they needed the goods, regardless of how I felt. I’d have my limb back in a month, no worse for the wear.
I returned home, made up a story, and my mate patched me up so we could be ready to go out to dinner for the annual delivery awards. I was being featured as “Most reliable”, third year running.
It was a special night. I left the little ones with my sister and called upon a transport dolphin to deliver us to the banquet. The banquet was housed inside a large wooden structure; we don’t know what it is, a gift from above I suppose.
As we rode I gazed deeply at my companion. She was perfect, everything I dreamed for in a mate: Glistening, deep eyes, dark amber flesh, elegant tentacles, and fertile to boot; we were expecting...my 3rd patch of squeegees.
Our dolphin screamed to a halt, a blue streak darted in front of him. He bucked hard, tossing us from his dorsum. They were back; you don’t cross the barracudas without retaliation.
1, 2, 3...how many? I couldn’t tell, they’re all too quick. Then...
...and...
....A shrill was sent up my spine, and she was gone.
My cold blood boiled, my anger built, my hatred summated...then it stopped. I filled with grief. I broke; I couldn’t be put back together. They took my all, my everything and I was left there alone, helpless.
I trudged home, every boost through the water left me drained. I felt heavy, heavy as I’ve ever felt. I found my sister, told her it wasn’t safe for the kids to be with me and left her with them, I had no choice. I didn’t have the heart to tell them, I couldn’t.
I made my way to the location left to me on the algae; I had nowhere else to go. He was there, cloaked in black and approached, “I suppose you fear for your life.”
“No, I fear for those who broke my spirit, for they know not the wrath they’ve brought upon themselves.”
I disappeared for 50 high tides and emerged a different squid. Beaten and battered, I’d endured more pain than I thought imaginable, but I lived and that did not bode well for my adversaries.
I knew where to go, the place off limits to the likes of me, the abyss beyond safety, a larvae’s worst nightmare, the Deep Void; the barracudas perilous haven.
I arrived several tides later; I had snuck beneath their cover. I wasn’t interested in petty criminals, I sought the source, and I knew where to find it. I wove through their defenses with ease, all the way to their holding pens, my point of interest. Behind a stone I float, counting the guards; less than I expected, 5 in total.
I meandered to the middle of the outcropping, surrounded individual pens, each holding a brethren. I wanted the guards to see me. I wanted them to come to me; in fact, I needed them to.
I caught their attention and they slowly swam toward, chuckling in delight, for what was one lowly squid going to do? They mocked me, bad decision.
“What’re you thinking coming out here? You know there’s nothing but pain for you. Your days end here hero.”
I scanned the cells, desperately searching for my mate, knowing that they would keep her alive with cheap krill until she had no ink left to give, and they did, I spotted her.
I closed my eyes, listened to the ocean, and felt every vibration through the water, “Come.”
They dashed forward with lightning speed; but their clumsy, I heard their every movement and felt their presence. Swish, swoosh, drop, dash...an aqueous symphony providing a visual map of where they are and where they’ll be. I burst aside, last second, leaving them befuddled.
“Again,” I spoke. Whoosh, whip, swash...I readied myself as they neared.
With a swirl I duck beneath their vice-like snaps and arise with a flurry of blows, catching each squarely on their skull, crushing their brains beneath shards of razor sharp bone.
5 drop, and reinforcements arrive...“Begin.”
Splash, swoosh, swash...a choir of coordinates gave me the advantage as a vortex of tentacles swarm the scrambling creatures and each strikes true.
I open my eyes for an instant, to catch a glimpse of her cell and our glances connect....
....the music still plays and the dance continues.
