Amidst the swirling bioluminescence of the deep trenches, one Chromajelly swam with an erratic grace. He had a penchant for whimsical mischief, often leaving coded messages in the Cyctopi's network—tantalizing clues that led to nowhere. Tonight was different, though. He hovered silently above the OctaTech barriers, introspection replacing mischief in his mind. What if the Chromajellies could harness their bioluminescent energy for creation, not just chaos? His tentacles twitched with the conflict of his thoughts, knowing that Wraith would never entertain such a notion. As the first tendrils of doubt began to erode his loyalty, he wondered if change—true, unpredictable change—was even possible in their dark, neon abyss.