Rain Harlow
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Chapter 2
🕑 Added 2025-03-20 17:23:30 +0000 UTCAnchored below the tree cover of the platform known as the Yairu Reservoir, under the jurisdiction of the independent Industrial Fellowship, Jack ran two hands over his face and cursed his luck. He’d really done it this time. He could smell foul consequences for his actions on the wind, and oh, how it stinked. It wasn’t the Reservoir, either — they’d fixed that.
He looked in the rearview mirror, already adjusted to observe the octogirl. It wasn’t exactly easy, as her body had changed color to match the interior fabrics — silver and golden-yellow. It was significantly spoiled by the huge white shirt, however. She had tossed and turned most of the way but never awoke. The camouflage came and went.
But she was quite still, right then, with even her head tentacles and tail barely moving. When he looked closely, her face seemed pained. Strained. Her breathing was labored and heavy. There was a soft sound with each breath, perhaps a wheeze.
“What am I going to do with you?” Jack muttered, sighing. “I need you to wake up. And speak English while you’re at it. Just tell me where to take you. Tell me what’s safe for you. Please?”
She did not react. What few mutters she had made during the trip had not sounded like English, in any case.
Jack frowned. If I take her to Origin Medical, she’ll be reported to every high authority and possibly get whisked away. I need to know if she wants to be exposed to the Mems. She wanted away from her captors, whoever they were, but that is not enough to go on. Not enough for a destination.
And that was all he was doing, after all. Giving someone a ride who needed it. No big deal. It’s what he did — it was his job. He always got people where they needed to go. He never failed to.
I have to take her somewhere. And I need to be somewhere for a while too, damn it. Too much potential heat, too little known about what trouble I’m in. Guess I’ll have my ‘vacation’ after all.
The list of people he could both trust and was willing to dump it on was short. So many of his old friends were current military, who’d technically be obligated to report something so strange to the Mems. Jack’s dad was Memoria-knew-where after hitting the bottle again and falling in with a bad crowd, and his mom was a permanent ‘hell no’ for him. Her cult-like ‘community’ would burn the girl at the stake for all he knew.
There was only one decent option.
Sighing, Jack stared into the rearview and declared, “I guess we’re going to go to my uncle’s farm. Wake up now to protest or forever hold your peace.” She did not.
His uncle Terrance was something of an ‘eccentric.’ Jack had worked at the farm for a few years during ‘family troubles,’ before he went into military school out of his own desires at fourteen. Something the state did right was not force him to be with his mother. Her community being what it was, he’d have never gone into the service otherwise.
Terrance and the platform, Eden, were also highly independent, even from the Farmers Alliance. Strange as the situation was, Terrance would keep the lid on it. Hopefully, he could minimize contact with other workers.
Jack sent his credentials to the Industrial Fellowship’s communications systems so he could utilize them. It was effectively just a login for him for basic access, as he’d done it before through registration as a transporter. He sent a query for a line extension to his uncle’s business number, adding a code he had access to for emergency use.
Approval was nearly instantaneous and after a few moments, there was the click of a radio receiver. His uncle’s scraggly voice came through. “Jack? What’s the emergency — is it your father?”
“What? No. Well, who knows how he is, but this is something else. I need a favor — a big one, preferably with minimal questions.”
“Ah, freshly shat hell, Jack, what did you do?” After a silent pause, he continued, “No questions. Huh. Tell me what you need then, son. You’re family and a vet, and you never asked me for nothin’ ‘cept bennies you paid back. So.”
“Actually, I can even pay you. Room and board for two for a while. And do you know a good, discreet doctor? Independently discreet, if you take my meaning.”
“Don’t worry about paying me, but you can pay for the doctor. One with a specialty in discreet, too. Not sure about his availability out here today. We’ll see. Just what kind of trouble are you bringing, son?”
“Maybe some. I don’t know, Uncle Terrance. Hopefully none, but I’m just trying to help the next person out, you know?”
There was a sigh. “I guess I do know. Sounds like just the sort of trouble you’d get into. Missed your damn calling or something.”
“To do what?”
“Hell if I know. A paramedic. Counselor, maybe. Helping people.”
“Right. Maybe.”
“Anyway, when can I expect ya?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Alright, make that at least half an hour. I’ll authorize you for non-logged entry. You won’t get a ping or a message entering the airspace of Platform Eden, mind ya.”
Now that’s authority. Terrance was a senior Councilor of the Citizen’s Council of Eden as of a few years back. “Got it. Thanks, Uncle. See you soon.” With that, Jack disconnected the call.
He winced as he imagined his uncle’s response to seeing him cart the octogirl into his manor. He was going to get yelled at as if he had brought in a random wild animal.
Jack wanted to get word to his boss in depth, but that wasn’t really in the cards, as he’d have to enter Memoria-controlled space to do it, or arrange for a screened and recorded message through an independent state. The best bet was to use his uncle’s connections for that and bypass the risk.
“Welp, I’m starving. How about you?” Jack exclaimed as he turned around in the seat to look over at his ‘client.’ She was still but breathing heavily and had her back turned to him. Her tail peeking from under the white shirt twitched slightly. “Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do about that for either of us. Water?”
Despite the lack of response, Jack got out of the vehicle and brought a steel water bottle over to the passenger side back door, to open it and more easily access the unconscious girl’s head. He awkwardly tried to present a craned water bottle to her lips. Her head tentacles were interested, dipping themselves into it and scooping some of it down onto her a few times.
Her head twitched a bit at this, and she tried to curl her face further into the seating. The tentacles then pushed the water bottle away continuously.
Jack frowned in puzzlement as he had to relent. “You’re going to be alright, you know,” he encouraged her softly. “If you need a doc, we’ll get one. Or as soon as you wake up, we’ll figure out where you belong and get you there.”
If anywhere…
Jack went to the back of the car, dropped the tailgate, and pulled out some tools to pry open the frame of his cell phone to remove the battery, eliminating the potential for signal tracking. In turn, he went to the front, popped Alice’s hood, then disconnected and switched off the transponder system, cutting off Alice from her various automatic communication lines.
“Alice,” he called out as he came around to the door. “You can still receive signals but can’t send them or return them, correct?”
“That is correct, Jack,” Alice replied.
“Is there any danger of tracking from this?”
“It is hypothetically possible, but more difficult. Are you in danger, Jack? Should we contact the authorities?”
“No, Alice. Obviously, we’re not contacting anyone. Okay… don’t even receive and process signals unless they’re from Eden. Ignore them.”
“Acknowledged, Jack. Please be careful.”
“Always.”
His last task before heading out was something he wasn’t even sure how to handle. He went to the back again and pulled Tanner’s backpack to the edge of the tailgate. Frowning, he lifted it. Easily.
Why the hell is this so light? It’s a gearbox. What, is it made of fraggin titanium?
He opened up the backpack and pulled the whole thing out, squinting at it suspiciously. Something was off about it. “Aluminum? It’s still too light.”
Before he investigated further, he checked the rest of the bag, suddenly feeling a hope rise that he’d find food. Another pack of smokes. A simple socket wrench set. Matches. A pen and an empty notepad. A spoon.
“How do you not have snacks in here, Tanner?!” Jack lamented in disbelief as he slapped the backpack down. “You punkass piece of shit!” His stomach growled its agreement.
Muttering balefully, Jack retrieved his electric socket wrench kit and set about unbolting and taking off the topmost case cover. Inside were unoiled gears. When he turned them, they moved without any resistance, and the third part of the gearworks did not move, either. He wasn’t sure if that was normal, but it was like he couldn’t ‘feel’ the gears inside the casing turning at all. He couldn’t see them, but it was a subtle instinct.
What the hell is with this thing? Is the gearbox a lie? Is it cake?
Mindful of time but burning with curiosity, he hurriedly unbolted the rest of the casing and pried it open with a flathead screwdriver and the power of grunt-fueled effort. It was a pain and a half, but finally, he managed to pull the metal frame around the gearworks off.
But there were no gears or shafts below the top-most part of the frame, and those gears went with it — they were attached. The frame was also thicker than it should’ve been, made of some sort of gray-brown composite material.
Inside the hollow and bolted to the bottom of the frame where the gears should’ve been was a small copper rectangle with no apparent openings. The top part had signs of rough welding that had not been polished down. In the middle, yellow tape had been haphazardly wrapped around, with bold, black, printed text declaring, ‘Danger!’ repeatedly.
“Well, I’ll be damned to the moon, the gearbox is a lie!” Jack exclaimed. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with a sleeve and stared at the copper rectangle. “Danger? Pfft! What is this, Pandora’s Box?”
He laughed, but it rang hollow in his ears. Tanner had transported something important, after all — important enough to hide. Jack glanced over at the thick composite lining of the casing. Pressed his fingers on it. A slight give.
A copper box and some kind of additional radio shielding? Or even more sophisticated. Something to block Mem’s senses? Her powers?
He wasn’t sure what that would be, but he’d heard of crackpots claiming to make such materials to line walls with and so on. Jack found it kind of dumb and useless, as Memoria surely had no time for people’s day-to-day nonsense. Serious crimes were another story, though. Citizens getting hurt, robbed, abused — the Mems weren’t big on that sort of thing. People that were doing nefarious shit would have great use for such a material.
In any case, he’d spent enough time with it, and the box wasn’t going to be easily opened without a torch or otherwise cutting into it. If he dared in the first place.
Jack put the case back on, tightened a few bolts, and then stowed it back in the backpack.
Time to go.
When he was finally sitting back down in the driver’s seat and buckling up, the octogirl was laying flat and breathing heavily through her mouth, her eyelids fluttering.
“Stay with me,” Jack urged. “We’ll get you a doctor. Help. I promise.”
Uncertainty about so many things plaguing him, Jack took off into the air with Alice once more.
🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕
The sprawling platform of towers, pipes, and production vessels that was Industrial Bend, more commonly called ‘The Bends,’ was great cover for Jack’s vessel. So were the massive transport barges hauling materials through the air to New Babylon or other platforms.
He hid in the wake of one almost all the way to the platform of Eden. It wasn’t as far out as the Bends and was also a bit below the standard plane of most platforms, which were most commonly aligned with New Babylon.
Eden was all wilderness and farms, with a large central park and lake reservoir. His uncle’s farm was on an outer wedge, near thickly-clustered but orderly rows of pecan trees with some wilder forest at the very edge. Jack’s deceased grandfather had purchased two farms, and the inheritor, Terrance, had purchased another, making his estate pretty extensive. He was widowed, but two sons under thirty helped him manage it, basically apportioned between them.
Jack brought Alice down in the front yard of a large, two-story manor house. His uncle and some older farmer, probably a foreman, waited by the door, both in stereotypical jeans, long-sleeved button-ups rolled back past the elbow, and cowboy hats. They’d clearly been working but had cleaned up a bit.
At their immediate approach, Jack hurried up and rushed out to greet them before they made it to the car. “Heeeey! Uncle! Great to see you. Really.” Grinning, he put his hand out for a shake.
Terrance returned the shake while wearing a polite grin. “Likewise. Just wish you’d come under nicer circumstances.” He was a tall, wiry man with a high-cheekboned, severe face suitable for some ancient statesman. He had a large, bushy beard of full gray. “How’s the city life treating ya?”
“Oh, good. Good.”
“Good. You look good, actually. Healthy. Got a bit of a baker’s gut growing, though. Haven’t started drinking like your daddy, have ya?”
Jack was shaking the other gentleman’s hand — ‘Mick,’ he said — and murmuring, “Jack,” in response when he registered what his uncle was saying. “Hmm? Oh! No.” He scoffed. “Hell no, Uncle. That gene skipped me.” Baker’s gut? No way. He’s getting senile. It’s just body shape. I have a medium build.
His uncle nodded, and his eyes shifted to peer over at the car. “Where’s this other person, anyway? Hiding ‘em in your pocket?”
“Back seat. And, ah, as to that…” He looked between his uncle and Mick. “Don’t tell anyone about this. She’s been unconscious, and I don’t know her story. I just know she was running away afraid, and I helped her. As soon as I know where she belongs, I’ll take her.”
The two men exchanged glances, and his uncle frowned, but Jack turned on his heels right then and rushed to the car to get her, with his uncle calling, “Jack? What are you- Jack!”
Ignoring the protests, Jack got to the car door, opened it, and carefully pulled the octogirl into his arms once more. Other than her camouflage pattern fading, she did not react much, and he had the distinct sense she’d gotten weaker since he’d originally found her. But she didn’t buck around or flop herself, at least. Her head tentacles were languid and moved only vaguely and sluggishly.
Jack carried her toward the door to the manor as his uncle and Mick stared. They were utterly disbelieving and stunned by what they saw, eyes and mouths open wide. “Mick, buddy,” Jack said, “you wanna get the door for me?”
Mick blinked and closed his mouth, slowly saying, “Suure,” as he glanced uncertainly at Terrance and back to the octogirl, before inching toward the door, eyes never really leaving the oddity before him.
Terrance glanced at Mick and at the octogirl, too, unresponsive for a few moments. But his brows drew down more and more until finally he exclaimed, “Wait- no! No, no, no, no! Wait up. Jack. Jack, just what the hell did you bring to my farm?!”
Jack sighed as he paused in his approach. “I told you: someone in trouble. She’s having difficulty, might even be in a coma, and I dunno if I can bring her to the city yet. I need her to wake up. That’s basically it.”
“Oh ho-ho-ho,” his uncle coughed in brief hysterics, pointing his finger at Jack, “that’s it, is it? That’s it? How about the fact that she’s a skydamned squid person! Is she- is she an… alien, Jack?” His face was one of wonder and horror.
Jack scoffed in audible incredulity. “Tch, don’t be ridiculous! Does she look like some terrifying, mind-bending creature?!” In fact, a head tentacle had wandered into the side of her mouth and she was sucking on it. “See? Too adorable. Trust me, I know what they-” He cut himself off with a huff. Can’t talk about that, Jack. “Just trust me. Please. She’s modded, or some biological adaptation experiment, or a Non with a crazy story to tell.”
Terrance wiped a hand over his face, then took a breath and adjusted his hat. “Right. Right, of course. Of course, son. I didn’t think- I just thought- nevermind. We’ll hear it from her. Look at her — she’s harmless! A harmless human. Ha. Alright.” He cleared his throat and gestured at Mick. “Let’s get the squidgirl inside. A bed? Yeah. Yes. First-floor bedroom.”
As Mick opened two heavy duty doors and swung them open, Jack carried his blue client inside. She was too cold for his liking, but hopefully, that was normal. “I think she’s more of an octogirl. The tentacles. Camouflage. Her eyes.”
Immediately to the right inside the door was something that stuck out like a sore thumb in the manor — a small, walk-in steel vault, locked. Jack was familiar with it: an armory. His uncle had been a teen when his dad’s farm was robbed and his mother was killed. They did not play around about self-defense. Every farmhand that worked for him had to prove they could shoot, and most had a rifle or shotgun handy.
Terrance raised an eyebrow at Jack. “Half octopus is she? Well, you’d know better. You ate up those nature shows like nobody’s business. Your momma said you’d be a biologist egghead. Anyhow, it’s this way, Jack.”
In his arms, the octogirl’s eyelids fluttered a bit, and the tentacle fell from her mouth.
Biologist? I don’t even remember thinking that. Maybe a biological-based Champion. Like Stitcher.
Stitcher was a legendary, very old Non like Chromey, but she was still alive and doing miraculous work via incredibly finely detailed organic manipulation. She’d been a healer and surgeon, and for decades, she had moved into genetics and body modification. She was the latter’s pioneer, purportedly even being the one to convince Memoria to allow it in the first place.
How powers worked was technically classified, but he’d heard in the service that she was a ‘Controller,’ a versatility-focused ‘role’ that sacrificed personal toughness and raw power. He’d heard there were many of these roles, but only knew of a few, such as Guardians, which were tanks. Blasters, who were self-explanatory. Why they were so important in the System of Memoria wasn’t clear. They were simply foundational, and that was that.
That fanboys like he had been were blocked from knowing more was heartbreaking, but such was life for the mundane. Fat chance of any classified information being allowed to exist in the public eye within Memoria’s control, and even the independent states didn’t push that envelope, perhaps half out of disinterest. Nons could only get their powers from Memoria.
I could be carrying Stitcher’s handiwork in my arms right now. It might be within her capabilities. If anyone’s.
Jack was led into a sizable, well-furnished room with a king-sized bed, with sheets and pillows in the pattern of fluffy clouds in the sky. He set her down and put the covers over her. She twisted on her side almost immediately, mouth opening to breathe heavily. She looked sickly.
“She seems semi-conscious, huh?” Terrance asked. He took off his hat and leaned down to study her from up close. He brought his hands very close to her face and then snapped his fingers loudly. She may have twitched slightly. Her tentacles flared around to cover her face.
“I guess. Her tentacles sure are. More importantly, she seems to be having breathing problems.”
His uncle leaned back up, his face disturbed in the extreme. “Mm. Yup.” He turned to Mick, who was standing near the door. “Get the oxygen tank with the breather, would ya? My closet upstairs, on the left.”
Mick nodded and exited the room.
Terrance frowned down at the girl. “Who’s after her, Jack?”
Jack sighed and shrugged. “I saw her trying to escape some tough-guy assholes on Overflow Three, right over the green-striped silos and by the fire station.”
“Farmer’s Alliance.” He had a sour look on his face. “Figures.”
“We can’t say it was them just because they’re on Overflow Three, Uncle. The guy I was transporting over there was a Southtower man through and through. They zapped a neighbor’s security with stunners.”
“Hmm.” Terrance squinted his eyes thoughtfully and pulled out a cell phone to begin typing with two hands. “Probably have some families with connections between them. Maybe the Mulks or Wuhamas. The Mulks got one rope in everything, near enough. Everything skybound, anyway.”
“Skybound? What isn’t?”
“The earth, son. Obviously. A lot of them groundpounders are Mulky boys. Big on self-sufficiency, for obvious reasons. And militant. Yeah, they got the rest of their net down there, if you catch my overall meaning.”
“Sure. Well, shit, maybe it fits the bill, eh? If you can look into it…”
His uncle nodded, muttering to himself as he typed. Finally, he said, “Your doctor isn’t working today. Holiday. He’s having a good ole time in the city with family.”
“You’ve got to be shitting me! Frag Chromey Day and frag me! Now what?”
Scratching his beard and stowing the phone, his uncle shrugged. “We see how the oxygen does. We do what we can. Hold tight. Doc says he can be here first thing in the morning. If she wasn’t, uh… this… we could take her to the little clinic on the lake, but…”
“No. Or, well — we’ll see. Hopefully, this helps. I’ll be ready if necessary.”
His uncle nodded slowly, arms crossed for a silent waiting period. Then he finally gave Jack a thin smile and clapped him on the back. “We’ll figure it out, son! Some aspirin for the headache, one way or another.”
“Come on, man. This is someone’s life in our hands, not a headache.”
“Ah, see? You should’ve been a paramedic! Don’t take me so literally. Didn’t mean nothin’ by it. So. The doctor it is. A hundred and fifty bennies, by the way.”
Jack winced. The premium of discretion. “I’ve got it covered. And sorry. I’m a bit touchy, what with this whole thing, and I even skipped break-”
“Got the oxygen!” Mick exclaimed as he came in finally, moving as quick as he could while rolling a big tank on wheels. He brought it over to the side of the bed.
Terrance got it ready and in position, then began moving the transparent mask attached to the tank over to the girl’s face. Immediately, the head tentacles resisted the maneuver, pushing back in rejection of this strange, new object. “C-come on, I’m trying to help here!” He also attempted to get the elastic band up and over the girl’s head, to no avail, as the tentacles divided their fierce stand of defiance between these dual efforts.
And then there was a brief ‘Zzzt!’ sound, and his uncle jumped backward quickly, almost falling, as Jack rushed to steady him with a hand. His hat fell off.
Terrance looked quite horrified by the ordeal — as well as shocked. “She shocked me! Sh-she can do that?!”
“Apparently.” Jack glanced at the tentacles, which were undulating through the air in agitation and threat, perhaps with the energy of ‘You want some more, bitch?!’
Jack swallowed and cleared his throat. “I guess let me try.”
“Are you crazy? You’ll get zapped, too!”
Jack ignored this and approached, leaning down a bit. “Hey, um… tentacles? Hi.” They seemed to undulate more slowly. “Hey, we really are trying to help. More air, more oxygen. Think you can maybe cut us some slack, here?”
The tentacles seemed to be stretching toward him at this point, so he slowly and hesitantly offered his hand. “Good tentacles, niiice tentacles…” They took and wrapped around his hand completely.
They remember me. And no shocking! That’s just super.
Jack took the oxygen mask from his uncle with his other hand and brought it around as he sat on the edge of the bed. “I need to put this on your person, tentacles.” He more or less offered the mask to them, at which point they slowly began touching and inspecting it, then grabbed it themselves.
He had to flip it around the right way and guide it to the octogirl’s face while gently tugging and pulling away a few obstructing members. Finally, he got it reasonably in position. Getting the elastic band fully over her head was another complication, but they seemed to be fine with allowing him to slip it in the right spot between some roots, adjusting themselves dexterously.
They trust me. Heh. Pretty rad.
“Hey, Mick — Jack made himself some friends, huh?” A mocking tone from his uncle.
Mick snickered and replied, “I reckon he did. Touchy-feely friends, too.”
Jack glared at them both. “Immature much, Grown-Ass Men?” They just shrugged it off with amused grins in response. “Turn up the oxygen a bit, wiseguy.”
His uncle did so, and Jack adjusted the mask. They watched quietly and waited to see how she’d react. Her breathing quickly improved, becoming less labored and more even, though she was still breathing deeply.
Jack breathed a sigh of relief.
His uncle grabbed him by the shoulder and began shaking and patting it over and over, wearing a big grin. “Eh?! See there, my boy?! Eh? She’ll be fine!”
Jack was shaken and shaken until he burst out a laugh. “Alright, alright, enough, enough!” Wearing a lop-sided grin, he shook his head. “I hope you’re right.”
Most of the tentacles were quite content to let go of Jack’s hand and hold onto the mask, fully accepting that they had found something that was helping their person. One stayed in his hand, though, laying there and not gripping.
Dry. They’re all dry instead of moist like before. Is she dehydrating, too?
There was some garbled radio chatter that cropped up from Mick’s radio, and he stepped outside the room to follow up. After a few moments, he came back in. “Terrance, Lucas says his tractor broke down again. Can’t get it running.”
Terrance slumped dramatically with a huff and frustration so intense he seemed pained. “That no-good, brainless fraghead is the broke one! Shit!” He bent down to rip his hat up off the floor and dust it off, shaking his head with a dark grimace. “Mick, you gotta find me a few more hands. With some mechanical aptitude! That sackless wonder is off my damn farm come the night season, you hear?”
“Loud and clear, boss. You want me to take care of the tractor?”
Sighing, Terrance glanced at the girl. “You okay, here, Jack? Hold down the fort for a minute? I need to see what this idiot did to my machine with my own eyes, and I’ll probably need Mick’s help with fixin’ it. Or at least someone that can tell a damn wrench from a ratchet.”
“Same thing, aren’t they?” The other men laughed as if he’d told a good joke. Jack smiled as if he had. “We’re probably fine. I can contact you easily?”
“Multiple radios around. One always on until bedtime in the kitchen and living room. You can keep one on ya. And there’s no one else here right now. Alright? Alright. Let’s go deal with this chicken shit, Mick. Sunlight ain’t forever.”
They filed out, and Jack frowned as he watched them go. His uncle had always been a pain in the ass. Difficult to please and temperamental. His sons were scarred souls for it but good farmers as far as he knew. They probably had better workers.
Jack got up to head to the kitchen, fetching the radio to stick it on a belt loop and getting a pitcher of water as well as a cup. He made sure it was plastic in case the tentacles flung it or something.
He eyed the refrigerator longingly. You and me got a date soon, beautiful.
When he got back into the room, the octogirl was in the same sideways position. He poured some water into the cup and sat down as before, offering the cup to the head tentacles. They were more interested in it than before. They dipped and scooped it out or flicked it over her body, as her eyes moved around prodigiously under her eyelids.
Jack found himself holding his breath, waiting for her eyes to open. But they didn’t, and the tentacles abruptly lost interest in the water. He couldn’t be certain, but they seemed unsatisfied, with little snaps and curling he assessed as annoyance.
He took a deep breath. “Please. I really need you to wake up.” Nothing. “Come on!” He took her hand and shook it. There was one twitch. “Wake up!” He shook her arm. “Please! It’s important.” Nothing more.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
Jack shot up onto his feet and stepped up closer. He held the cup of water over her head. “Wake up, or I’ll pour this on your head!”
The tentacles got agitated, flicking around, some extending toward him. Her body twitched a bit more.
Jack lowered the cup slightly and tilted it. “Ohhh nooo… here it coooomes… better stop me…”
The head tentacles were whipping and trying to reach up toward the cup and his hand with all their stretchy might. If they could speak, Jack was sure it would be, “Nooooo!”
“Laaast chance…” She was having a subconscious response, her body twitching and her tail flicking.
Jack ruthlessly dumped the water on the top of her head, betraying his friends the tentacles terribly as the primary target, but in his mind quite justified.
The octogirl immediately started awake with a gasp, flipping over onto her back with a whip-like motion and then half sitting up, as her head flicked around in fear and disorientation.
“It’s alright, it’s alright!” Jack exclaimed, holding a hand out flat to calm her.
She woozily flopped back down, her eyes almost rolling back but appearing to fight it off to stay awake. She pulled the mask down in confusion. Meanwhile, her tentacles were all extended like points at Jack, perhaps in accusation.
The girl finally followed their direction to look over, and her eyes locked with Jack’s. They widened, and her rectangular pupils went bigger and thicker on a dime. Despite this, it was like she was forcing them open from wanting to close, and her head was swaying almost drunkenly.
“Hi,” Jack managed with something he hoped was a smile. “I’m-”
“Jack,” she interrupted, nodding vigorously. “Jack Laker, Skyman.”
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