Shadow in the Glass: a Splatoon 2 Fanfiction

Chapter 17

Mona climbed the steps of Deca Tower, her hearts racing as she prepared for what she was about to do. She had not thought this out very well. She hadn't even prepared a speech.

It's alright, she could hear Buia say in her subconscious. The best things come from the heart.

The demon was right. And swaying Harris had given her the confidence she needed.

Mona reached the top of the steps, where she glanced down from the balcony, at the warring colors beneath her. She took a deep breath...

"People of Inkopolis! Kensa! Stop!"

The flying colors stopped as both sides turned to look at that person up there on the tower. Were those black tentacles?

"I know you want to fight. But cease you firing and listen to me, if only for a few minutes.

"I am Mona, an Octoling girl of 14 years. Ever since birth, I have had a rare defect that turns my tentacles black, and negates all efforts to change ink color. I have always had these black tentacles. This color marked me as a target, and ever since I was enrolled in school, I was bullied. I learned to shake it all off, to build defenses around me. I kept everyone away from me, because I feared that if I let someone close to me, they would end up hurting me, and I would end up hurting them.

"It was from this self-damaging mindset that my inner demon, who I call Buia, was formed. Buia followed me everywhere, calling me a hypocrite, a failure, an outcast... someone who didn't deserve a spot in this world. And, after a while, I believed it.

"I was seriously considering suicide when I met Jake, my best friend and now significant other. He had some trouble as well, being shy and quiet. We bonded over this, and as we became closer and closer, I could feel my walls softening. I started to resist Buia's whispering. I started to think a little better of myself.

"But I still wasn't out of the woods. I still believed I was a waste of space. I never told anyone, not even Jake, about this stuff inside my head, because I thought no one, not even he, could relate. I thought it would drive him away from me; the one true friend I had, gone, because I couldn't keep my problems to myself.

"Then the whole Kensa Control happened. I got tangled up in it, even though it didn't affect me; how could I, a black-ink freak, participate in Turf Wars where no one matched my color, and I could not match theirs? But I wanted to help my friend, Jake. I wanted to do the right thing. So I joined his side.

"It hasn't been easy. By day, I've been dealing with Kensa. By night, I've been dealing with Buia. I've thought about giving up on life. I've lost faith and trust in friends too many times. There are so many clouds in the sky, I can't see the Sun. Too many negatives, not enough positives.

"But, every time, I've bounced back. I've bounced back because I have friends, who act as a backboard when things get tough. Friends who might not understand the sickness in my head, but offer support anyways. We all need support sometimes. And for many, Turf War is exactly that: a support mechanism. It's not just a sport. It's an environment where Inklings and Octolings alike can shed their burdens, forget their pain, and just play, for the sake of playing.

"When that mechanism is caged behind a paywall, they begin to lose faith. They start seeing the glass as half empty. Without their backboard, they fall into a darker place, just like I did before Jake. A simple tax on a three minute paint war can shatter someone's world. Ever heard of the Whiskey Rebellion? According to an ancient elder race textbook, the higher-ups of the old world taxed a very special drink that was not only popular, but somehow provided an escape from darker days (through a magic called alcoholism). Just like Turf Wars. And when a small tax was placed on it, the people of the elder race were enraged. They banded together and protested, bringing violence wherever they went. The higher-ups had to organize an army to stop them, proving their supremacy and leading some to question if popular sovereignty, the idea that society as a whole held the power, was really true.

"If the Kensa Control continues, the same thing will happen; it's a well-known fact that history repeats itself. Eventually, the inhabitants will start an uprising. Eventually, Kensa will stamp them out. And eventually, the entire population will be unhappy and lost without their Turf Wars.

"Is this what you all want? Non-stop dispute between you two? General unrest in the Square? Kensa will make no money, because no one wants to pay for Turf Wars, and the Inklings and Octolings here will become lost, sad, beaten. In the end, everyone loses.

"All I'm saying is: this has gone on for far two long. And I'm not talking about just the Kensa Control. Our ancestors, like us, couldn't agree on some things, and because of that, a war broke out, thousands died, a whole race was forced underground, and a terrifying stigma surrounding Octolings rose. All because we couldn't agree on splitting the land equally. We are selfish, self-preserving. It's in our blood. We as intelligent beings take what we think is rightfully ours, and we keep striving for more, more, more. Kensa thinks Turf Wars are theirs to monetize, and the Square civilians believe Turf Wars are theirs to play at any time, for free.

"But there is still hope. If you all can put down your weapons, maybe you can come to an agreement. Maybe you can learn to live with each other in harmony. Prove that you've learned from your ancestors' mistakes. Stand together, because you can only go so far by yourself. I'm lucky to have met Jake, and Lyze and Three. They've been the best friends I could ever ask for. I'm here because of them. I'm here, in front of a huge crowd, nervous, spouting words. Words that, hopefully, will leave a lasting impact. Please, put your hostility aside, if only for a few hours. That is all I ask of you.

"Now, those who would like to reach an agreement, please step toward the Deca Tower."

Mona finally closed her mouth, inhaling, exhaling. This was it. The hard part was over, but the worst was yet to come. Mona hoped her words had been enough to sway at least some of them. If not...

The Square was doomed. Jake, Lyze, and Three were doomed. Harris was doomed.

What if it was all for nothing? Mona started worrying. She could feel a panic attack coming. What if they continue fighting? What if they completely destroy each other? What if...

Shhhhh. Buia's voice echoed inside Mona's mind. Breathe. It'll all be alright. Inhale. You did the right thing. Exhale. They'll stop fighting. Inhale. They listened to you. Exhale....

Suddenly, a shot rang out. A Charger shot, headed straight toward Mona. She closed her eyes, waiting for the inevitable...

But she felt nothing.

As she opened her eyes, she saw Harris, Brella unsheathed. The canopy, now broken, had taken the hit for her.

"Alright, who did it?" He spat, fury in his eyes. "Which one of you shallow cowards did it?"

And the crowd seemed to part, revealing a man in a black fedora, still aiming his Kensa Charger directly at Mona.

Calvin Irvel.