Chapter Text

I know you.

But does he really? No, this doesn’t- This is overwhelming. That’s the man he was searching for- The one from his memories.

Ingo finds himself quickly panicking, before he knows it, one of the pokéballs at his side has slipped open, and Alakazam appears beside him. Trained to act in his stead, especially in the case of injury or more, Alakazam is a perfect partner when it comes to an escape.

The Man-Called-Emmet, Emmet the Subway Boss , Emmet- cries out. 

Ingo wakes up in an abandoned section of the catacombs, surrounded by ghosts. Ah, at least the Litwick are cute.

The skulls in the walls, not so much.

“Where did he go?” Emmet gestures to the spot where Ingo had been, only to just vanish. “He was right there! ”

Marie remains nonchalant. “Boss does that when he’s a little overwhelmed. Just pops away.” Her smile deepens. “ Like a ghost. ”

“What.” 

“It all started when I fell to Hisui… It was cold, I had snow in my boots and my socks were wet. I hate wet socks. It was terrible.” Ingo remembers it, how his boots and hunk into the snow, the way they sloshed with each movement. The wind had bitten his cheeks, and how his now retired coat was pulled ever so tightly around him. “I was found in the snow. Confused.”

“Liiiii…” One of the little candles has climbed onto his chest, and Ingo watches as their flame gradually becomes more intense. Ah. “Li! Li! Li!”

It’s trying to drain his soul, Ingo merely baps it back. “No. Bad. No souls for you.” Ingo finds himself unable to be truly bothered by the action, it’s only trying to eat. “You have perfectly good Rattatas here, eat those, not me.” The Litwick stares at him, uncomprehending. “They’re good.” Ingo insists. He would know, as he might have had a bite or two. Don’t ask. Pidove tastes nicer.

The Pokémon huffs, and stops draining him. Good. Good. No draining today, Ingo has schedules to fix, a crisis to completely ignore and perhaps a burger to eat later, as a treat. 

Now, back to his impromptu therapy session.

“As I said, Lady Sneasler was very kind…”

Laid out across the hotel sofa, Emmet proposes a plan. With a rather distressed, sobbing Chandelure in arms only enabling his ideas, it’s time to go nuclear. “Elesa. We need to do a heist. Elesa. Ingo is not going to make it easy.” He wipes a rapidly evaporating tear from Chandelure’s  glassy eyes, and he receives a sad chime in response.

Elesa raises her head, mascara running down her face as she does so. “Emmet. What on earth?” He’s not seriously considering a kidnapping, right?

“Heist.” Emmet repeats, seriously. Ah, so he is. Welp, Elesa did always say she was a ride or die friend, and that’s seemingly the case.

“Ah…” Better start looking for lawyers. “You know what? Sure.”

At 11:23 PM, Ingo has a terrible sense of foreboding.

Emmet proudly holds up a messy plan written in sauce (ketchup and barbeque from their takeout) and pencil, after Emmet accidentally snapped the pencil in his determination. The hotel notepad collage looks terrible, and Elesa isn’t sure what half of it means. There’s several large blobs which she thinks might be an abstract take on Ingo, or perhaps it’s a Trevenant. It’s hard to tell.

Elesa has a bad feeling about this.

She lets Emmet walk her through the plan, which seems rather simple, despite all the pages and strange illustrations.

“So. We get in through the southern tunnel, which is currently under maintenance.” Elesa opens her mouth. Emmet waves her off. “I am Emmet, I am a Subway Boss, it will be fine.” Elesa doesn’t believe that one bit, but oh well, she’s in too deep now.

“Where do we go from there?”

“The south tunnel is the pink line, which has been diverted. We go from there, climb into the station maintenance tunnel.” Lots of tunnels, it seems. “From there, we take the back door into the staff section. There is a route to the office, where Ingo would be.” Emmet points to another page. “Then using Chandelure, we hypnosis him-” That does not feel very legal or moral, Emmet. “-And then we smuggle him back out where we came. Zebstrika is fast. We can ride her out. A getaway car- Or Pokémon.”

Elesa holds up her hand, like a student with a particularly picky question. “What if he isn’t there?” 

Emmet pauses. Then smiles. “Then we pick him up and run.” Just… Run? Did- Did Elesa hear that right? They’re going to just pick Ingo up and run? Nothing more?

“We do what?” 

Emmet’s smile becomes more forced. “We run. And pray. To the Dragons- or whoever you prefer.” Oh, he’s serious.

“Ah. Fair enough. I’ll make sure she has an X-Speed before.”

This is not going to go well, is it?

The tunnels are empty of life, there is no one to bother him now, only the small colony of ghost types he’s cultured and Ingo himself. With the train services no longer running, Ingo slips away through a series of passages, aiming to drop down into the catacombs once more.

It’s late. He should be asleep, but…

There’s too many thoughts in his head today. Too much happened today. 

So into the darkness he goes, and thus he wanders past the rows of bones absently, a Litwick on his shoulder. The ghostly purple flames would scare most people away, along with the glowing pair of silver eyes, but his fellows have grown used to him by now.

In truth, Ingo has left the Metro, many times in fact. But not in the way that most would expect.

The catacombs are a second home to him now. The tunnels are quiet, haunted and relatively free of people, unless…

Unless you know where to go.

Le Club de Surnaturel, or the supernatural society, is a secret bar hidden beneath the third arrondissement of Lumiose City. If Ingo heads through Chatelet Les Couloirs station, takes a right through a staff door, then follows to a hidden little cupboard, then drops through the secret hatch, you reach an old and relatively abandoned section of the catacombs. From there, take a right, then a left, then two more rights, knock four times by the section with ten skulls and whisper the password of “ Fantôme .”, you’ll find the secret club.

Ingo quite likes the club, the patrons are friendly, although the floating bottles can be somewhat dangerous, if you’re not used to dodging. But aside from that, it’s cheap, the Espurr are haunted and the owner lets him pass out in the corner. Occasionally, some people will bother him, asking about his origins, especially if he’s wearing his old ragged Hisuian clothing. Ingo sometimes entertains their questions when he has the energy, but not today. He’s tired and he could really go for some spirits.

Ripped coat flaring out behind him like a fan, worn boots thumping on the ground and silver eyes shining, Ingo disappears into the darkness.

He only scares three people this time! That’s a new record!

Nursing a bottle of the Le Club de Surnaturel’s strongest spirit, much to the bartender’s horror, Ingo moans about his day to whoever will listen, but considering his inability to speak any Kalosian while he’s drinking wards most off. Good. In truth, he’s only slightly tipsy, despite the amount of pure alcohol running through his bloodstream. Thank the Sneasels, the damage caused by their neurotoxins have whittled down any weaknesses to alcohol, allowing for some strange immunity. Ingo has no idea how this works scientifically, but Doctors hate him, so it must be strange.

He downs another shot of alcohol, savouring the burning in the back of his throat, as he reflects on the day. The man he was looking for, the man in a white coat, was right there. Standing before him. The man had been looking for him too, it seemed. After all this time, through past and present, there was someone looking for him.

The stars had aligned, the planets were arranged and Arceus had finally smiled upon him. Everything he had worked for was right there, Ingo just needed to reach out to him. The man’s hands were outstretched, that Chandelure was wailing and-

Instead of tearfully reuniting, Ingo had run away.

He had tried. But- He couldn’t do it. So much was happening, the train kept rolling across the tracks and the battles raged. Challenger approaching. There was so much to do- So much to say. But-

Ingo couldn’t do it.

So he let Alakazam teleport him away. He let himself disappear once more. Ingo was here, then Ingo was gone.

He really is a ghost, isn't he?

Just a miserable spectre haunting the railways.

Well- That’s not quite true. He enjoyed being the Master of the Metro, had enjoyed the battling and the trains. He had been- He is a conductor. 

The tunnels are his home, Ingo had found a place to belong once more.

With a sigh, he nods, trying to prove something to himself. This was merely a detour, one that he would easily deal with. He was happy dealing with the swarms of clowns, rampaging Pokémon and that one incredibly sad mime that lurked near the seventh arrondissement who always gifted him oranges. He’s not sure what’s going on in that man’s life, but fair enough.

Eugh. Je déteste ma vie , Ingo thinks, as he takes another shot. Well. Quelquefois, je déteste ma vie.

That’s what they say, right?

Mid-way through a rant, Ingo gets pulled away by the collar for poker. He wins.

Ingo cradles the tiny, absolutely possessed Espurr in his arms, much to the horror of the people around him. Now a little smashed, he babbles at the little creature in his arms. “Haunted kitty. Cute kitty. Spooky kitty. Baby.”

“ Sacre bleu. ”

Ingo just keeps baby-talking to it in tongues.

Emmet bursts into Elesa’s hotel room, sending her tumbling to the floor in shock. He’s holding something in his hands, a triumphant look on his face. “Elesa. Elesa. Tater Tot has hacked into the Met’s map database.” He shows her a series of blueprints, each labelled and every passageway highlighted. It’s a gold mine. A tiny ball of yellow fluff waves from her from his other hand.

Elesa looks at the tiny Joltik, then to Emmet, then back to the Joltik. She’s wearing glasses. 

“Emmet, she’s a Joltik. How ?”

Emmet pets the little Joltik with a single finger, proud.

“Tater Tot is very talented.”

Another Litwick tries to eat his soul. Ingo politely refuses.

“Is he dead?” Zoé leans over the possibly-dead-but-maybe-not man. Her friend, Luca, stays behind her out of fear.

Monsieur Fantôme is slumped against the wall with a purring Espurr in his arms. There’s no movements from him, not even a rise of a chest. He’s just… There. 

“I don’t know. Should I-“ Zoé motions to the man. “-check? He’s just kind of existing. If he’s dead, that’s not very good.”

“We’re in the Catacombs. Just dump him somewhere.” Luca offers, ever the voice of reason. “There’s enough bones that no one will notice.”

“ Luca !”

“It’s true!”

Zoé doesn’t respond to that, instead she shuffles closer to the potential corpse, and gingerly rests her hand around his wrist, pressing slightly to check his pulse. She sighs in relief. “Alive. Just blacked out.”

“Good for Monsieur Fantôme. He deserves it.” Luca believes that whole heartedly, he’s seen a lot of horrors in that Metro. “But what do we do now..? Do we just leave him? Jacques is closing soon, and he’ll be alone, he could get us found out. That’s not good for business.”

Zoé purses her lips, frowning. “We could take him home.”

“To our house?”

“No!”

“Then where?”

Zoé, with a frustrated look, spells it out bluntly. “The Metro. Just leave him in his office. The tunnels take us to the staff room anyway. He’s never minded us before.” 

“To the Metro it is.”

The next morning, Ingo finds himself back in his office with a blanket wrapped around him and a throbbing headache. He shuffles his way out of the tangled blankets, groaning the whole time, and fishes out a few painkillers from the medicine cabinet. 

When he returns to his desk, he finds a scrawled note left on the top. It takes him a few moments to translate through the fog of his headache, but eventually, he works out what it means.

Damn, you really live like this?

Rude. But yes. Yes he does.

Emmet checks through his bag, then over his- over their Pokémon and finally checks over himself. Staring at the mirror, he tries to plaster a brave, nonchalant expression on his face. Except, the plastering job was done by an unqualified toddler, and a wobbly smile stretches over his face instead. That really is a terrible job, could really do with a refund.

He sighs. Today is a big day, today is the day he gets Ingo back from the Kalosians. 

He doesn’t know how or why Ingo is here, but from what Emmet can guess, is that the government had Ingo kidnapped in order to make him work on the Metro so it’s not bad anymore. Also! They must have wiped his memories. That’s the only reason why Ingo didn’t recognise him, after all, there's clearly a conspiracy afoot. Clearly.

Because there has to be a reason why Ingo didn’t know him, and when he did recognise him, an Alakazam kidnapped him! That’s a conspiracy, he swears. 

So he’s going to have at the Kalosians, first for stealing his brother, then for stealing his ideas and again for making their own train battle facility! This is a travesty that he won’t stand for any longer!

He rests his thumb over Chandelure’s pokéball, and prays for a happy ending.

Elesa has texted him. That’s the signal.

It's time to go.

Ingo remains slumped in his chair, massaging his temples. He really should not have drunk that bottle of spirits, or the three bottles of vodka or that glass of white wine last night.

He is suffering.

With shaking hands, he removes himself from the rota with a single note ‘Sick.’. It’s a rare occurrence for him to not show up, but not unheard of. But, he should probably elaborate that, with another few taps, he adds ‘In office. Do not disturb’.

That’ll do.

He retreats to the sofas that he’s pushed together once more. Time for another nap. He whistles softly, and Chimney, his dear alpha Zoroark, bounds over to him and rests her head on his lap.

Bless these foxes. He has no idea why everyone feared them so much.

Standing by the edge of the station, Emmet watches the trains pass him by. Red. Green and Pink. Lines one to three, each of them whistle as they go on the way, the breeze generated ruffling through his hair. 

It’s oddly peaceful. A calm before the storm. How long will it last, before Emmet smashes it? How long, until it’s thrown away?

He finds himself watching those passing him by, imaging their stories and future destinations, guessing what terminals that they will end their journeys on. Trainers and their Pokémon. Commuters. Metro workers. Police.

Lots of people. 

The game continues as the clock ticks on.

There’s a ping. Emmet checks his phone, reading the text displayed on the front.

He’s not on the trains. Think you’re right.

Ah. So it’s plan B then? B for barbeque. B for best. With a sigh, he steps onto the next train, and smiles pleasantly. No one is watching, but it’s a good idea to start now.

B for bringing. B for brother. B for back.

Oh Ingo…

Ingo feels a strange sense of anxiety, a pang of intangible emotion near the bottom of his stomach.

Or maybe it’s hunger?

Maybe he could get some breakfast delivered. He’s really fancying pastries.

Yeah.

Sitrus berry jam and a fresh croissant sounds good. Or maybe a ham and cheese toastie?

Yeah. Croque Madame sounds great right now.

When the train stops at the seventh arrondissement, a mime hands him an orange, and tells him that he’ll need it.

Emmet does not understand, but he appreciates the gesture.

The tunnel is dark, but Emmet is used to tunnels like this. From his early youth, Emmet had been wandering through the darkness with easy, navigating turns, avoiding that third rail while holding a flickering torch in his hand. How he had scuffed knees or tripped over rocks in an attempt to find the relics of a station once past. 

How he skipped through the old Anville tunnels with an ounce of bravery, his partner and Ingo by his side. As the years passed, he kept wandering tunnels, no longer a dangerous hobby, but a job. 

Then Ingo disappeared in a tunnel.

How funny, that the hobby that their Mother swore would get one of them “hurt- or worse, killed !”, actually did. Ingo has gone, with not a trace.

The tunnels took his brother. 

The tunnels will return his brother.

He’s not alone anymore, this time joined by their whole team and Elesa too. The darkness recedes as light fills the tunnel, and Emmet hopes that this time, this tunnel will have a happier ending.

Ingo, with bleary eyes, accepts his delivery, and tips the driver with a few spare gold coins, a nice looking button and two poke. In all, it totals to several thousand in tips, but Ingo doesn’t know that.

As soon as they’re out of sight, the driver quickly uploads the details of their encounter with the Metro Cryptid to social media, along with a few pictures of the coins to an identification subreddit. It’s a good day for Reddit karma.

Ingo, pleased, slinks back into his office. His sandwich hangs from his mouth in the same manner that a Zoroark holds her prey. Mmm. Egg .

Good for him.

Emmet comes across a clown wandering the tunnels. 

They honk at him.

Ingo drinks his hot coffee in one gulp, and immediately cringes at the taste. He forgot he doesn’t like coffee.

Three dancers pass Emmet, music blaring out despite there being no source. In an abandoned tunnel.

What is wrong with Kalos ?

Ingo goes back to sleep.

They come to a stop near a small, slightly grubby, paint-chipped door. Emmet checks his map, and with a nod he confirms that “Yup, this is it.”

“That’s the entrance?”

“Yup. Tater Tot’s map says so.” He rests a hand over the metal door, holding the latch with his thumb and index finger, and with a tug, he pulls it open. “Ready?”

Elesa takes a moment to consider her life choices at that moment, reflecting on her childhood, her teenage years, the PhD and finally her career. Somehow, this all has led to this moment. Somehow, this has led to… “Sure. More ready than I’ll ever be.”

The door slides open with an ear splitting groan. “Good. Now. You know the plan.” Can it really be considered a plan? Sure. “Retrieve. Run. Hope for no Alakazam.” That’s the only hole in their plan for the time being, a teleporter could risk it all.

“Got it.” Elesa steps through the door. “Let the Great Lumiose Metro Heist begin.”

Let the heist begin, indeed.

Arthur knows that technically he’s not meant to be disturbing the Master, but there’s a few documents that need to be delivered, so sadly, Arthur has to enter the office anyway.

He swears that his boss is possessed. He has to be, with the constant flickering lights and bitter chill that haunts the corridors to the office and the office itself. It’s not rare for actual ice crystals to form, even if it’s the middle of summer. Summer is Kalos. Where it easily peaks over forty degrees at it’s worst. Arthur refuses to consider any other options, that’s a ghost. A nice ghost. A ghost that pays him well, gives him good benefits and has helped hone his battling skills, but a ghost nonetheless.

Thunk. Clink. Thunk. Clink.

Footsteps ..?

Arthur looks around him, but there’s no sign of any other living beings near him. The corridor is completely empty, aside from him. 

That’s not the Master, either. That’s not a human.

Ghost !

Nope. Nope. Nope. 

Arthur is not paid enough for the shenanigans! Boss can get his documents later!

“Did that guy just run away?” Elesa points to the rapidly retreating Metro Agent’s back. “What- How did that happen?” Pulling out a small hand mirror, she checks over herself. “I’m not that scary, am I?”

“You need to see yourself in battle.”

“Emmet.”

Emmet ignores her forceful tone, instead marching through the corridor without a care. He checks each and every door, looking for ‘Patron’ or ‘Metro Master’ or even ‘Maître de Metro’. One of those would be right, surely? “Not Ingo. Nope. Ingoless. No Ingoes here.”

Where could he be? Where is Ingo? 

“ Emmet !” He hears a hiss from behind him, and Emmet swivels around in order to face Elesa. “Found it.” She’s pointing to a door, one that looks the same as the rest, except there is no placard, or really anything to differentiate it from the rest. It’s… Exactly like Ingo’s office in Gear Station. He never cared for any fancy embellishments. He just “- worked there. I do not see why I need anything additional, Em .” 

Nothing has changed, then. But how did she know it was Ingo’s?

With feather-soft steps, he tip-toes to just outside the door. Which is open, just by a crack. Inside, Emmet can just about spot a figure resting on the sofa, barely visible amongst the pile of blankets- looks comfy. 

There’s no Pokémon around, surprisingly, but that doesn’t mean that they shouldn’t be careful. They can’t risk it, not now.

Gradually they shimmied their way over to Ingo, who simply snores in a manner that vaguely reminds Emmet of a train horn. Just like normal, it seems. Despite his dishevelled appearance, and a ripped black thing being used as a blanket. It takes a few moments before it hits what exactly that is, but Emmet gasps- “Elesa. That’s his coat! ” Emmet hisses, under his breath. 

Elesa takes a moment to actually look at Ingo, and there it is- A black coat, a mirror of Emmet’s work uniform. “ It is .”

“I can’t-” Emmet takes a moment to breathe, in fear of accidentally waking his brother. “It’s him.”

“Yep. How do we take him?”

“Oh!” Emmet unclips a pokeball from his belt. It bursts open, and Chandelure floats above him. They take one look at their beloved partner, then another at Emmet. “Chandie. Dearest. Can you use Psychic?”

Ingo is already floating before he can even finish his sentence. Elesa seems to giggle slightly, almost hysterically, at the sight of him just floating there. “ Ay, I’m floating here! ” She whispers, before giggling again.

Despite Elesa clearly nearing a breakdown, Emmet carries on as usual. “Good. Thank you. Also- Elesa, grab the pokéballs.” 

Ingo doesn’t even stir.

Arthur is back for round two.

After eventually convincing himself (AKA spending a good twenty minutes gaslighting himself in the staff toilets) that everything is alright and his boss is totally not possessed- nope, that’s just a perfectly normal guy, -he’s finally worked up the courage to finally go back and deliver those papers.

Arthur returns to the corridor. This is fine. This is fine.

The Metro Master is levitating.

The Metro Master is levitating down the corridor.

Arthur screams. Then faints.

“Is he going to be alright?”

Emmet walks past the poor, collapsed out agent on the floor. A nudge from his foot confirms that the man is alive, that’s good enough for Emmet. “Not my problem.”

“ Emmet !”

Ingo feels rather cold, as if all the heat was drained from his body, syphoned off in the same manner that a ghost steals one’s soul. Now thinking about it, he feels rather floaty…

Ingo’s eyes snap open. He knows that last night was a blur, but he swears he was rather alive this morning. So why does-

He’s actually floating. Shifting his head slightly, despite the strange resistance he feels, almost as if he’s dragging it through mud, he turns around. Only to face the man from before, the Man-Called-Emmet, the Man-In-White and the Supermodel. Next to him is the culprit of the floating, the Chandelure from before.

Ingo narrows his eyes at his kidnappers, because this is clearly a kidnapping, and asks a single question. “ What have you got there ?”

Despite the language barrier between them, the fact that Ingo is floating and the chaos of this whole situation, Emmet knows exactly what Ingo’s asking. “A smoothie.”

The look Emmet receives in return is practically dripping with disappointment as Ingo manages to cross his arms. It’s a picture perfect pose taken straight for Emmet’s memories. But just as quickly as he woke up, Ingo just slumps once more and mutters something under his breath. “This might as well happen. Why not? ” With that, he closes his eyes once more, and goes back to sleep .

“Did he..?” Elesa chokes from the sheer disbelief. “Did he just… Fall asleep ?”

“Yup.”

“Huh- Why..?”

“Ingo is just like that.”

Elesa glances at the sleeping Metro Master, who is currently being levitated, and nods. “He sure is.”

Manon is having an amazing day today. She’s once again acting as the Singles Master, and as such is having an utter ball. There has been a high number of challengers today, as is normal for a weekend, and thus many people have reached the final car. However, out of those many challengers, only a handful have actually been victorious. 

Although she likes to win, there was something satisfying about a truly difficult battle. The roar of the train across the rails, the shouted commands and the tension boiling over into a frothy mess. It was her life, and Manon wouldn’t trade it for anything else. This was fun.

Thank Xerneas for the Metro Master, life would certainly be far more frustrating and far duller without him around. He was a particularly spooky light in a sea of boredom, a shining beacon of entertainment, especially when Manon hazed the newbies with a double battle with him. 

Now, speaking of the Master, where is he?

She knows that he’s called off sick, but in truth, he’s no doubt holed up in his office. He never leaves the station for long. Perhaps he never leaves at all. That… That actually wouldn’t surprise Manon, considering she’s never exactly seen him leave.

Hm. 

She’ll just do a quick check on him. It’s good to know he’s still alive, because Manon swears that man is only held together by nails, duct tape and a dream. That is not the peak male performance, no wonder that mime keeps giving him oranges.

As her boots click against the ground, she finds herself pondering about that supermodel from before. Electrifying Elesa from Nimbasa. Electrifying Elesa from Nimbasa, who somehow knew the Master.

How could that be?

The Master had no family, no connections, no anything. He was an unknown. An undiscovered species- No doubt. 

But someone knew him. Knew his name . That he had gone missing, that he lived.

Who was the Master of the Metro?

Who is the Master of the Metro?

All thoughts that had plagued both her and her co-workers for a while, perhaps they even plagued the whole city of Lumiose?

Nah. That’s a bit much. He’s just a guy. A weird guy, but still a guy.

Manon rounds the corner, and stops. Ah. So that’s what’s happening. Before her, floating in the air, just in front of two people, is the Master. Behind him is the supermodel and a man who looks eerily similar to the Master- a twin, she’d almost say. But never mind the complexities, Manon is witnessing a kidnapping, right here, in front of her Goodra!

But the whole situation begs belief, and quite frankly, Manon is utterly baffled at the scene in front of her. “Are you stealing the Master?” 

The man in front of her just coughs awkwardly. He glances between the Master, his partners in crime, then Manon again. “I… I have a licence?” The man doesn’t seem very sure about that answer. “I am- He is my brother.”

“Who you’re kidnapping?”

“Well, yes?”

“In full view of a witness. Despite being his brother, no one has ever seen you before.”

Emmet hums. “When you put it that way…” He seems to be considering what to say. Manon watches him raise a hand, almost as if he’s about to scratch his chin in thought- “Woe! Joltik be upon ye!”

Manon doesn’t get the chance to comprehend what’s happening before a small, yellow ball of fluff smacks her in the face. The motion sends her to the floor, and as she falls she hears the sound of a pokéball opening and the click of hooves against the floor. When she removes the bug- who’s incredibly cute by the way, got a really lovely set of blue eyes- the Master and his kidnappers are gone.

What just happened?

Manon looks at the bug in her hands, the little Joltik squeaks at her.

Huh. It’s free bug.

“ Why did you throw a Joltik at her!? ”

“ I panicked! ”

The man has slung Ingo over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

Ingo, in all of his hung-over glory, merely accepts this for now.

He’ll return to the station later on. He could really do with some fresh air.

This is fine.

He should probably text Manon an apology. She’s probably a little concerned, and maybe a little paralysed right now. That’s not 

Manon, as she’s recovering from the bug incident, receives a text. 

Congratulations on the Joltik. I am fine. They’re having fun.

Lunch on me next time as sorry.

Huh. Sure, that might as well happen.

Zebstrika is perhaps the best Pokémon they could have chosen for a get-away vehicle, the live tracks and her ability to absorb electricity in order to increase her speed is a perfect combination. This couldn’t have been a better situation.

Well, it could. There are witnesses now, the Kalosian government might be coming after them soon in hopes of reclaiming their stolen goods and Emmet has never been on the run before. At least he’s in Kalos, there’s some decent food to be had along the way.

The door nears them, Zebstrika starts to glow. Elesa shouts a command. “Zebstrika, Double-edge!

Zebstrika starts to speed up.

Emmet screams.

Ingo snores.

Elesa braces herself.

Zebstrika bursts through the door in an ear splitting squeal, sending the fragments flying around them. Electricity crackles through the air.

Zebstrika keeps going, not long until Galvantula picks them up.

Manon, now holding her new bug, tries to explain the situation from earlier to her co-workers while nursing a bottle of water, clearly baffled by what she experienced. Poor Arthur nods along with her knowingly. 

Marie, on the other hand, seems delighted. “He has a brother?”

“He has a brother!” Manon throws her hands up. “He has an identical brother, a twin . A Unovan twin.” 

Annie wheels out the conspiracy board.

Galvantula clicks from above, ready to lower a web in order to prevent any pursuers. No one seems to reveal themselves, and with a satisfied chitter, she drops from the ceiling. 

Right onto Emmet’s face.

Heist is going great.

Ingo remains completely unbothered by this whole experience.

“We’re out!” Elesa cries, as she dusts off her shoulders. The tunnels are dirty, and somehow she’s been coated in a fine layer of dubious substance. The sun beams down upon them, Emmet instinctively shies away, like a man who hasn’t seen sunlight in years.

“Freedom. Is this what it is like?” Emmet feels like a recently freed prisoner, as if he had been trapped in those tunnels for centuries. “It has been years since I last came to this station.”

“Emmet, it has been an hour since you last went outside.”

“ Years .”

“So what do we do now?” Emmet has quickly realised that there are a few holes in his plan, and it seems to have quickly collapsed after this point. There really wasn’t much more he had planned after initially re-stealing Ingo. “Do we just… Leave?”

“Je voudrais manger.” Ingo helpfully adds, in Kalosian. “J’ai faim.” He really is, it’s been a while since breakfast, and it’s now lunchtime. “Je veux une soupe.”

“ Kalosians .” Emmet grits his teeth, hissing quietly. Vengeance will be had. “But yes, I want something to eat.”

The cheerful look on Ingo’s face gives Emmet a form of mental whiplash. “Soupe!” There’s a smile and all! What happened here? What did Kalos do ? 

Ingo finds himself being dragged to a restaurant, despite Emmet and Elesa’s supposed fugitive status. Seems they forgot about the ‘kidnapping’.

“Je parle un peu Galarien, Monsieur. Mais-” Ingo pulls out a notebook from a pocket, along with a pen stylised with the Kalosian flag. Emmet seethes at the sight of it. With a flourish, he scribbles something down in the book, and shows him. I am better at writing in Galarian.

Emmet sighs in relief. “At least the Kalosian government let you keep something.” At least the Kalosian government… What? Since when has the government been involved? Last time Ingo dealt with them, it was a rather explosive debate on funding and why he needed it. Ingo had crushed them.

What? The government?

“The Kalosian government. They! Stole! You!” Emmet stresses each word. “You were gone for years! And now you’re- you’re…”

“What Emmet means is that he’s confused. You were here the whole time? Why didn’t you tell us? And-” Elesa gestures to everything around her. “-How did you get here?”

Ingo’s hands hurt, but he scratches an answer down quickly. I was not here the whole time. I woke up in Kalos- He pauses, tapping the pen against his chin. - One year ago. Before that, I lived in a region called Hisui. I was not meant to appear here, but I did.

Emmet tilts his head in confusion, akin to a confused Lillipup. “Hisui?”

Sinnoh of the past. I was meant to go home. But the Almighty missed.

“I can see that.” Elesa replies, dryly. “But how did you become the Metro Master? Why?”

Beat up the last one.

“In a Pokémon battle, right?” Emmet suddenly feels rather nervous. “Right, Ingo?”

Ingo shakes his head, a righteous fury slipping over his features. I fought him. It was a travesty, this place was a sin. I had to fix it, on my honour as a- Ingo looks up to them, waving vaguely. Another sign? He repeats it, and Emmet grins.

“Subway Boss! As a Subway Boss!”

Ingo nods, spelling out the word mentally. on my honour as a Soobway Boss. Emmet raises a brow at the misspelling. Not quite, but close enough. I just- I did not leave after that. I cannot speak much Kalosian, nor Galarian anymore. I am too rusty. Only Hisuian Ranseigo.

Elesa nods. “I was wondering why you were… Writing. You talked on the Metro-not in Galarian. It was like an odd Sinnohan? I could understand you a bit.” Sympathy spreads across her features. “Do you struggle with it? Galarian, that is.”

I understand you. But I struggle to put words together. I am working on it. But spoken Galarian is rare here, so there has been little practice. After so long, I stopped trying to speak with others. Writing is easier.

Emmet settles into a determined stance. “I can fix that.” Ingo just needs someone to speak to him, to remind him. Those skills aren’t gone, just faded a bit broken. There’s nothing a bit of metaphorical tape can’t fix. Also, Emmet needs to try and erase every piece of Kalos from his brother.

Starting with the baguettes.

“So you’ve been literally living in the Metro?”

“Ah… Yes?”

“Ingo.”

“Quelquefois, je visite les catacombes!”

“That’s not much better!”

“I… It has been- Year since I left.” Imgo’s words slur awkwardly. “It’s been a year since I went outside the underground.” That’s better.

“You’ve genuinely not left?” Elesa quirks a brow. Surely he must have at some point, this isn’t a Jackie situation again, right?

“No. I had not. I have not.” Tenses are different, aren’t they? “No need to. Work. Clubs underground.” Ingo pointedly ignores the cry of “ Clubs !?” from Elesa and carries on. “Hung-over. Happier in the dark. Metro est… It is good.”

Emmet, in all of his hypocritical glory, simply goes “Bad.”

“You… You would want to be in a station for a year too.” Ingo murmurs. “You like trains.”

Emmet, who came out for a good time and is honestly feeling really attacked right now, tries to whistle nonchalantly. It doesn’t work, he can’t whistle at all. Poor choice of action Emmet. “I do. But that is-'' He glances over to Elesa, who’s watching intently from behind Ingo, watching him with narrowed eyes. “-a lot of trains. And dead people.” Elesa smiles, then nods, pleased. Emmet lets out a sigh of relief. “Besides, you need air! It is verrrry unhealthy to be solely in a train station all day. Every day.” 

Huh, now Emmet thinks about it, this is a bit hypocritical of him.

At least he didn’t fight a guy over train related crimes.

Or… He was going to, but he never got around to it.

Hm. This really is making Emmet rethink his life. How strange, Kalos must be rubbing off on him.

“I understand.” Ingo does not understand, but he’s not going to admit that. His gaze flickers between Emmet and Elesa, who seem to be expecting something, if their body language is anything to go by. “Thank you.” He adds, because that’s polite, and also because he’s not sure what to say.

Sipping his soup quietly, Ingo finds himself remembering his first day in Kalos, when those hex maniacs first summoned him. That day is a relative blur, in truth, but he treasures the little memories he still has. 

“This makes me recall a year ago.” Ingo starts, before pausing as he considers his phrase. That didn’t make sense, did it? “ I remember my first day here.” It’s okay, take your time. “This reminds me of my first day.”

Elesa simply encourages him with a sympathetic bob of a head. “Oh?”

Ingo closes his eyes, reminiscing. “Hex maniacs… They made me- They summoned me. Then, they gave me pizza and ice cream. Along with some unusual drinks. It was-“ Ingo looks out to the distance. “-Nice. They visit me sometimes. They bring me food.”

There’s a choking noise, and Ingo turns to find that Emmet has splashed a drink down himself, bubbles dribbling down the side of his mouth. “You went partying ?” Emmet chokes slightly. “You went partying, in Kalos, without me ?”

“They were nice. I was confused.” Ingo shrugs. “I had no other plans at that moment. I did not know what to do.”

“ You went partying …” Emmet mutters under his breath, with an astonished look. “Just like university.”

“Uh?”

“ Just like university. ”

“ Je ne sais pas- Sorry?”

“So, you were searching for me?” Ingo can’t imagine a fruitless search like that, one without hope. How terrible. But- He does find it somewhat comforting, to know that people were looking for him, to know that someone had cared.

A slow nod, a distant look. Emmet seems to struggle to force out the words, but eventually he does. “Yes. For years. Many years.” 

“Désolé.” The Kalosian word slips out easily. Easier than anything else. “Je suis désolé.”

“It is… It isn’t your fault.” Is it? “You wrote about a hole- Was that what took you away?”

“A rift. The windows between the past and present. ”

“A what?”

“A…” How did Laventon pronounce it..? “Ree-I-F-Ttttt. Rift.”

Emmet nods along slowly. “Huh. And that’s what took you?”

“Yes.” Ingo replies. Then with a thoughtful look, he scribbles something down on the notepad. I wasn’t the only victim. There was another, a child. They were the one to send me back- with Arceus’ help. 

“Huh.”

As Ingo is about to continue with his dramatic monologue, Elesa makes a whine from the side. “The police!”

“Police?” Ingo frowns. “Je ne comprends pas.”

“The police would have been called-” Elesa gestures at him vaguely, then points in the direction of the Metro. “For kidnapping you?”

Ingo shakes his head fiercely. I told Manon I would be back later. Surprise trip. 

She lets out a relieved sigh, and stuffs another meatball in her mouth. Delicious. Spaghetti… “Ah. Alright.” Elesa suddenly looks at him. “Back later?” She questions, confused. Emmet, meanwhile, starts to choke.

I have a job. Cannot leave.

“But- After all that-” Emmet keeps going, only stopping when Elesa gives him a firm strike on the back. “You cannot just- You can’t stay…”

Emmet. I apologise, but it isn’t so easy. I need to stay. I built the Battle Metro up by hand, I need to see it through. Ingo tries his best to give Emmet a reassuring smile, but it fails, if the bubbling tears are anything to go by. 

“I want partial custody!” Emmet slams his hands down on the table, the sheer force of his slam makes the cutlery jump. “And weekend visitations and all holidays-”

“Emmet, that is an adult man. You can’t drag the Kalosian government to the family courts for visitation.” To begin with, Elesa has no idea how that would work, let alone why that was Emmet’s first thought. “We may have lost before we started.”

Emmet glances at Elesa, then the spaghetti and then finally at Ingo, who seems to be pleading with him. “I- But I don’t want to let our tracks part so quickly- Not after everything! We’re… We are a two-car train, Ingo.”

A two-car train. That phrase… I remember it well. We are twins, yes? Ingo motions to Emmet, who nods. I thought so. Emmet. Listen to me.

“I-?”

I cannot return yet, but I could eventually, in the future. Partings are only temporary, goodbye does not need to be forever. Although our tracks may part- Ingo slowly raises a finger, pointing towards the middle of his chest, and presses. You will be in my heart.

“Ingo…”

Besides, the clowns will miss me.

There’s another choke, gaining them some looks from their fellow diners. “The clowns-! What?!” Emmet splutters. “The clowns…” He wheezes again, quietly, as he slumps in his chair.

Did I do something wrong? Ingo turns to face Elesa, who’s crying silently. “Elesa?”

Emmet’s whines continue from below the table. “ Clowns… ”

Like all things, the Great Lumiose Metro Heist ends with a whimper, not a bang.

Numbers are exchanged, tears are shed and partners are reunited. Chandelure, Haxorus, Klinklang and Garbodor join his team officially, while his other partners remain with Emmet. Ingo takes a moment to reassure them of his return once more, despite his shattered memories.

It’s bittersweet, watching Emmet and Elesa step onto the train to the airport. They wave, Ingo leaves them with an “ Au revoir! ” and watches the train pull away as Emmet and Elesa wave from the windows. Even though he doesn’t quite remember them, he still finds himself shedding tears.

As he leaves, Ingo finds himself facing the mime, who simply smiles at him and hands him another orange. Ingo does not understand, but the action is appreciated.

The truth is simple. Ingo has other commitments now, he has a life and a job. The Battle Metro is not something he can just leave behind, despite what Emmet may think.

This was a parting, but not a permanent one. The Metro is a gateway, a temporary space to exist in while you await the next train- or event in your life. Thus, Ingo’s time at the Metro is limited too. 

It takes several years of adjustments, arguments, visits and recruiting, but eventually, Ingo hands down the mantle of Metro Master to Manon with a proud smile upon his face, along with the location of the Le Club de Surnaturel. With that, he takes one final train around the Metro that he built by hand, and with that, he too leaves.

The next week, Subway Boss Ingo returns to his post after many years of being missing.

He only speaks in Kalosian.