Ten million Mythica credits for a human transformation? Who set these fees, anyway? Probably some high-up god who hasn't had a budgeting issue in a few millennia. And the thought of getting the Olympian gods involved?
Talk about red tape. I could already imagine Zeus rolling his eyes as he stamped "rejected" across our proposal.
By the time I reached the coral lab, my head was spinning with half-baked plans and even more regret for ever encouraging OK's breakdancing. The situation felt impossible, but somehow, I still couldn't bring myself to leave OK to fend for himself. He was a good guy... octopus... kraken. He just wanted to breakdance in peace.
Inside the lab, Fiona was hunched over her screen, absorbed in some analysis. I dragged myself to my desk, dropping into my chair with an audible sigh.
"Hey, Carl," she said without looking up. "You sound like someone flattened by a tsunami. No pun intended, by the way."
"Can we not bring up tsunamis right now?" I groaned, rubbing my temples.
Fiona raised an eyebrow and spun her chair toward me. "Whoa, who stepped on your tentacles?"
I let out a deep breath. "It's not my tentacles, Fina. It's OK's. And the entire ocean wants them gone."
I told her everything—OK's latest tsunami incident, his plea for help, and the idea I'd pitched to Dr. Riddick, which, of course, was promptly shot down. Fiona listened, nodding along with sympathy, her face a mix of concern and curiosity.
"So," she said, leaning back, "your plan was to raise funds to give the Kraken a human form to enjoy his passion for dance. It's actually not a bad idea."
"Yeah, but?" I raised an eyebrow, knowing Fiona wouldn't just hand me a compliment that easily.
"But I agree with Dr. Riddick. Even if you somehow pulled together ten million credits, you'd still need divine approval. From the gods themselves. And not just any god — it would have to be one of the Olympians. As a titan, Kraken falls under Poseidon's jurisdiction."
I let out a long, exasperated groan. Just what I needed—the Kraken's entire future resting on a notoriously fickle god with an ego the size of the Atlantic.
Fiona watched me for a moment, clearly trying to gauge how deep I'd sunk into my ocean of despair. "Look," she said, her voice softening, "maybe you should focus on the smaller problem first."
"Like… what? Selling enough popcorn to cover OK's fees?" I joked bitterly, though the thought of hawking snacks to Mythica creatures for eternity wasn't far off my current mood.
"No, dummy," she smirked. "Improve OK's reputation. Right now, he's famous for the wrong reasons. You can't raise funds for a creature no one even likes."
"Right. So, get the world to fall in love with an oversized breakdancing kraken. Easy peasy," I muttered, slumping further in my seat.
"Carl, you're thinking like a pessimist. What if you find a way to show OK in a positive light? Maybe something community-focused, where he can redeem himself. He just needs a chance to prove he's not a menace to society… or, you know, the entire ocean."
As much as I wanted to grumble, Fiona had a point. OK's reputation needed a serious overhaul, and if I wanted to keep him from exile, I'd have to pull off a PR miracle. I took a deep breath and nodded. "Alright, thanks, Fiona. I'll… think of something."
Back at my apartment I lay sprawled on my bed, scrolling through Mythigram. The hashtag #TsunamiTerror was trending, and just seeing it filled me with a mix of dread and guilt.
Live feeds were everywhere: mermaids bobbing in the waves, creatures offering "exclusive" footage of the damage, and a few attention-seeking influencers throwing in their hot takes.
One feed caught my eye—a Selkie standing on the rocky shore, flippers propped on his hips, and yelling at the camera. His sign read, "Ban the Kraken for Good!" But right next to him, another Selkie had a sign that said, "Free Karaoke for Life!" and seemed more interested in shouting about the loss of his karaoke set than the tsunami itself.
I groaned. That karaoke guy again? That Selkie is relentless alright. And here he was, trying to stir up public outrage — all while lying through his blubbery teeth.
My thoughts drifted back to OK's desperate message from earlier. I could almost hear the sadness in his words. He'd said, "You're my only friend who believes in my passion." The poor guy. I couldn't let him down.
I opened up Mythigram and recorded a quick story.
"Hey, everyone! I know there's been a lot of… talk about the recent tsunami incident." I hesitated, trying to keep my tone upbeat. "I just want to remind you that accidents happen. And, believe it or not, OK the Kraken has a huge heart. He didn't mean any harm, and he's actually super passionate about dancing."
I paused, choosing my next words carefully. "Imagine if all you wanted was to dance, but your dream caused… well, a little chaos. Instead of hating on OK, maybe we can support him, you know? Who's with me on starting #KrakenRedemption?"
I posted it, unsure if anyone would actually care. The response came in almost immediately. Mixed, of course, but some Mythica creatures seemed interested in hearing OK's side. Maybe, just maybe, this could work.
I walked into the MECCP office, bracing myself for another meeting with Dr. Riddick. I had no idea if my new plan would work, but I had to try. Fiona caught me in the hallway, smirking.
"Saw your Mythigram post last night," she said, folding her arms. "You're really pushing this 'Kraken Redemption' idea, huh?"
"Yep. Someone's gotta be in OK's corner." I straightened up, trying to sound more confident than I felt. "Besides, it's not just about him. This whole thing is about giving creatures second chances."
When I reached Dr. Riddick's office, I took a steadying breath and knocked.
"Come in," he called, sounding less than thrilled.
As I stepped in, he eyed me with a mix of curiosity and exasperation. "Carl, let me guess. You have another pitch for me?"
"Sort of," I admitted. "Hear me out. What if we organized a community event where OK can showcase his dancing—under safe, controlled conditions? No water involved. We could even raise funds for ocean conservation at the same time."
Dr. Riddick raised an eyebrow. "So… a Kraken dance event?"
"Exactly! We call it 'Dance for the Deep,' and we get Mythica's top influencers involved. We make it the event of the season. Everyone's talking about him anyway—might as well give them a reason to actually support him."
For a long moment, Dr. Riddick just stared at me, his expression unreadable. Then, he let out a slow sigh. "I'll be honest, Carl—this is a ridiculous plan. But… it's not the worst idea you've ever had."
I bit back a smile. That was the closest to approval I was going to get. "So… we have a deal?"
He shrugged. "I'll approve the event, but don't expect MECCP to throw in a single Mythica credit. You're on your own for fundraising."
I nodded, a mixture of relief and excitement flooding through me. "Thank you, Dr. Riddick. I'll handle it."
"Just don't make me regret this," he warned.
As I walked out of his office, a grin spread across my face. It wasn't a complete win, but it was a step in the right direction.
Back at my place, I started reaching out to contacts, sending out messages to Mythica's most influential creatures. If I was going to make "Dance for the Deep" happen, I needed everyone on board.
I sent a message to the PinkCorals (their agency lifted my ban after my stint with the PinkCoral studio themepark), hoping they'd be willing to lend their star power to the event. After all, who could resist a Kraken redemption story?
Just as I was about to close my laptop, a message pinged from OK.
"Carl… I saw your Mythigram post. Are you really… doing all this for me?"
I took a deep breath, smiling as I typed back. "Of course, OK. Everyone deserves a second chance."
His reply was almost instant. "Thank you, Carl. I won't let you down."