One Inside

The walls of the interrogation room were a dull, faded gray, the kind of color that seemed to absorb any warmth from the air. A single fluorescent light buzzed softly overhead, casting a harsh glow on the young man sitting at the metal table. He was thin, with sharp, anxious eyes that darted between the corners of the room as if searching for an escape route. His leg bounced restlessly under the table, and his hands—long fingers with ink stains on the tips—gripped the edge of his seat.

"Hal" was nervous.

And he had every reason to be.

The door creaked open, and OctoMan stepped inside, his imposing figure filling the small space. He wasn't in full hero gear—just a simple dark jacket over his academy-issued uniform—but even without the extra flash, his presence commanded attention, mainly by the octopus part, made up of its unusually pinkish skin, its eight tentacles on the back, and its viscous hands. Behind him, Retro and Needlepoint followed, taking up positions near the walls.

Hal swallowed hard. "You're the heroes?"

OctoMan sat down across from him, folding his hands on the table. "We are."

Hal exhaled, rubbing his face. "I—I wasn't expecting you to actually show up. I thought they'd just throw me in a cell and forget about me."

Retro raised an eyebrow. "Should they have?"

Hal's fingers tightened around the fabric of his pants. "No, no! Look, I wouldn't have asked for you if I didn't have something. I—I know things. But you have to promise me protection."

OctoMan leaned forward slightly. "That depends on what you know."

Hal's leg bounced faster. "I can be useful to you. I know how things work on the streets".

OctoMan's voice was even. "Go on."

Hal sat in the cold interrogation room, his fingers tapping the table, his knee bouncing with nervous energy. The heroes watched him in silence, waiting for him to speak. OctoMan stood with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable. Joule leaned against the wall, unimpressed, while Needlepoint stared at Hal with calculating eyes.

OctoMan planted his hands on the table and stared Hal down. "Alright. You wanted out of a cell. Talk."

Hal licked his lips. "I'll tell you what I know, but I need something first."

Joule scoffed. "You're in no position to make demands."

Hal shook his head. "You don't get it. If I go back out there with a criminal record, they'll know something's off. I need a cover."

OctoMan exhaled sharply. "Fine. You cooperate, and we'll figure something out. Start talking."

Hal took a deep breath. "There's someone new in town. They're from across the sea, not Kyonan."

OctoMan's expression darkened. "You're sure?"

Hal nodded quickly. "I overheard Oriken talking about it. Said this new guy flipped the game overnight. And we're abandoning some of our corners, Oriken is looking for strong allies outside the city."

Needlepoint narrowed his eyes. "If he's looking for strong allies, then why is he pulling back from his corners and selling points?"

Hal hesitated. "That's the thing… Oriken said they're consolidating. Abandoning some areas to focus their strength. I think he's looking to buy weapons and arm his dealers."

Joule straightened. "Nobody just gives up corners. Not unless they're preparing for a war."

Needlepoint's fingers drummed against the table. "Anything else?"

Hal's throat tightened. "I—I don't know if it's true, but I heard whispers. People saying the Orisa never really left, that they've been waiting for the right moment to come back. I thought it was just street talk, but now? I don't know."

OctoMan glanced at Retro. If the Orisa were truly resurfacing, the city was about to get a lot more dangerous.

OctoMan finally nodded. "Alright. We'll let you walk—but you're not going alone."

Hal blinked. "What?"

OctoMan stepped forward. "You want back on the streets? Fine. But you're taking one of ours with you. You're not working alone."

Retro gestured to the heroes. "Pick."

Hal hesitated, scanning the faces in the room. His eyes landed on Germination. He pointed. "Her." Hal was primarily intrigued by her hair, but she also seemed like the least threatening of the group.

The room tensed. Germination raised her eyebrows, surprised, while Joule looked at him like he had lost his mind. Needlepoint smirked slightly, intrigued.

OctoMan shook his head. "Absolutely not."

Hal met his gaze, his voice steadier than before. "Then the deal's off."

Retro let out a long sigh. "If anything happens to her, you're dead before the gangs even get to you."

Hal forced a nervous grin and let out a dumb joke. No one laughed.

-

A few days had passed since Hal and Germination had been released back onto the streets. The uneasy partnership between them and the heroes had just begun, and already, Hal had something to report.

BZZT.

OctoMan's communicator vibrated, the message brief but clear: I need backup. My friend's corner got taken. Trying to get it back tomorrow, w/ him and Germ. Be there.

The rest of the heroes gathered in the safe house, the glow of the city filtering through the closed blinds. OctoMan read the message aloud, his expression unreadable.

Joule frowned. "He's already picking fights? Thought he was supposed to be lying low."

Needlepoint crossed his arms. "Or he's doing exactly what he's supposed to—blending in."

Professor Pollen leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "This is reckless. I don't like it, something could go wrong."

OctoMan exhaled. "Maybe, but it's the best lead we have. If Hal's information is right, we can take down the crew that stole his friend's corner and start tracking the new guy in the city."

Pollen shook his head. "Not Hal, I really don't like that you're putting Germination in the middle of it." Not a preocupated leader, but a father.

"She'll be fine," OctoMan said. "We won't leave them alone. The plan is simple: Hal, his friend, and Germination go in as if they're just trying to reclaim the spot. When things get ugly, we step in."

Pollen's gaze hardened. "If this goes wrong, OctoMan, it's on you. And if you get my daughter killed, you walk away from being a hero. For good."

A tense silence filled the room. OctoMan met Pollen's glare but didn't argue. Finally, he turned to the group.

"We move in teams. Hal, Germination, and Hal's friend will head in first. Act natural, stir things up. Group A—me, Myco, and Umbra—will stay close, ready to move. Group B—Retro, Needlepoint, Joule, and Chameleon—coordinates from here."

Joule nodded. "Got it. We'll track their movements and be ready to guide you."

With the plan set, they waited for tomorrow. There was a call about a robbery, but the rest of the day was quiet.

Hal and Germination walked side by side down the dimly lit streets, heading toward his friend's house. The city hummed around them—neon lights flickering, the distant roar of engines, laughter from the alleys.

"So," Germination muttered, hands in her pockets. "How'd your 'friend' take the news about me?"

Hal smirked. "He thinks you're aggressive, good in a fight, and have insane powers."

Germination stopped in her tracks, turning to him. "Wait. What?"

He shrugged. "That's what OctoMan told me."

Germination groaned. "Are you serious? He's expecting some kind of monster."

"So... not you?" he teased.

Germ hesitated. "No! It's just… I hope I can sell it. I'll do what I have to."

They kept walking, the conversation shifting, to why her.

"You really don't trust the cops, huh?" she asked.

Hal's jaw tightened. "I just don't work with them."

She watched him closely. "That's not an answer."

He sighed. "Look, it's not important."

Germination let it drop. Instead, she glanced up at the sky. "You know, I get it. People look at me differently because of my father. Always keeping their distance."

Hal glanced at her. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Sometimes I feel like I have to prove myself just to be seen as my own person, not my father's succesion."

Hal was quiet for a moment, then offered a small smile. "For what it's worth, I think you're alright."

She chuckled. "That supposed to mean something?"

"Yeah," he said. "It means I trust you to watch my back."

The city lights flickered against the wet pavement as Hal and Germination walked in silence. The tension of the night was slowly fading, but something lingered between them—an unspoken weight, a quiet understanding that neither wanted to address directly.

Germination sighed. "This is the second team I've joined because of my father."

Hal raised an eyebrow. "The second?"

She nodded, kicking a loose rock down the sidewalk. "The first one… didn't go well."

Hal hesitated, his curiosity piqued. "What happened?"

Germination shook her head. "I'd rather not talk about it."

He considered pressing the issue but decided against it. Instead, he smirked. "Guess I'm not the only one with baggage."

Germination chuckled softly. "Guess not."

They reached the house. Hal shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight from foot to foot. "Well… are you ready to enter and meet him?."

Germination hesitated for a moment before extending her hand. "Yeah. And, uh… call me Ayame."

Hal blinked, surprised. A real name. Not a street name, not a hero alias. He looked at her hand, then took it, shaking it lightly. "Vĩnh."

They both paused, realizing what they had just done. A slight flush crept onto their faces, and they quickly pulled away, turning into the door.

Neither of them said anything else, but the moment lingered in the air as Hal knock the door.