Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ingo does not remember exactly how or why he’s here.

He was meant to go home, to wherever he came from, and find that man who shared his face. He was meant to have a happy ending, surrounded by tears of joy and peals of delighted laughter. The Almighty had promised! The deal forged in fire and bloodshed should have been held up. He should be home.

So, why was he currently laying in the middle of a circle, surrounded by drunk students ? And why are they cheering? And why are they carrying him bridal style? These are the many mysteries of the world, it seems. 

Once again, Ingo is but a leaf floating on the river of time, hoping that the waters may bring him to his rightful destination. Yet, the rivers insead had emptied out into the great ocean, frothing and churning with the winds. Like much in his life, this had gone completely wrong.

Ingo does not understand the Almighty’s obsession with throwing him into strange and unusual worlds, ones completely unknown to him. Ingo wonders, just for a moment, if he’s the Almighty’s favourite plaything, because he certainly feels like a doll. Or perhaps a rather unfortunate rag, like the ones the Sneaslets played with. Ultimately, it felt like his fate was always at the whims of others, never his own to control.

So he follows the people around him with a slightly dazed nod and a forced smile, in hopes that fate might reveal its cards if he follows its tune. 

The language, the people and the strange foods are incredibly disorienting yet similar. He finds himself handed drinks and various other objects that vaguely jog his memories, yet none actually chip away at the wall surrounding his mind.

Eventually, the youths take him into a building, one with gleaming lights and a pleasant smell.

Pizza Shack.

Ingo decides that likes pizza. The pizza served here is rather nice, not quite right, but nice nonetheless. A nice crust, a shockingly thick base (that was very wrong, in Ingo’s eyes) and toppings aplenty. It was perhaps the best thing he had eaten this week.

Maybe it was the best thing he had eaten in recent memory- yes. That’s likely true, Ingo muses, as he wipes sauce from his lips. This might not be so bad.

At some point, probably after the third or fourth pizza, one of the girls starts babbling to him in that odd language and holding her Arcphone (?) towards him. “ Par ici! Par ici! Il y a la glace! ”

What? Ingo frowns, shaking his head. “I do not understand.”

She ignores him, and starts dragging him away anyway. They come to a stop in front of a strange, somewhat silvery machine surrounded by coloured bottles and jars filled with brightly coloured capsules. Those don’t look healthy.

Oh well, survival depended on risks at times.

The girl presses a bowl into his hands. Ingo looks at her, she looks back. He motions towards the machine, and she nods. Alright… Sure. Okay. 

“Here?”

She nods, pointing at the plate. “Ici.”

“Very well then.” Ingo pulls a lever down, and something pops out of the top. Snow? No. No. That’s not right. That’s- Ice cream! “Ice cream! Bravo!” He claps, cheering for a little silver machine that cannot hear him, but it’s the thought that counts.

The student thinks this is hilarious. If the clicking of her phone is anything to go by. The flashes are a little disconcerting, but oh well. That’s life.

Now holding a full bowl of ice cream, Ingo realises he has no idea what’s happening. He raises a hand, ready to ask a question. The girl just motions to the sweets. 

Ingo discovers sugar once more.

Ingo clutches at his stomach. He takes one large breath in, and quietly, he wheezes. “Hospital.”

“Hôpital?”

Ingo doesn’t know what’s going on, but the bright lights and constant loop of music is certainly an interesting backdrop to his current predicament.

“Nu är vi här med. Caramelldansen~”

The ground is very nice. Rather soft, surprisingly. Ingo doesn’t mind this.

“Oo-oo-oa-oa. Oo-oo-oa-oa-a~”

Perhaps life isn’t that bad.

At one point, the students seem to realise that they should probably put him back where he belongs, but considering this is Kalos, and Ingo is from Unova… Well, that’s a pretty momentous task for some rather inebriated university students, so they do the next best thing.

They dump him at Kalos Central Station.

It’s a pretty tearful goodbye, all things considered. One girl sobs into her partner's shirt, then passes out, another tries to give him some convoluted life advice and the final one stares at him, giving him a firm nod. The exchange vaguely feels like a stoic father attempting to show affection, although failing miserably, and instead comes across as rather awkward.

With that, and a few “Au revoir!”s, they’re off.

And Ingo is now stranded at a train station.

Despite not knowing what a train is, nor what a station does, Ingo feels surprisingly pleased to be merely existing in the vicinity of a series of giant, steel contraptions. This is right, he thinks, this is my purpose.

It’s at this moment that something primal activates in his brain. Well-honed instincts and long forgotten routines suddenly come to mind. Ingo takes a moment to truly exist in this station.

Rubbish surrounds him, the walls are smeared in a slightly muddy substance of unknown origin and there is not a single battle in sight . This is a travesty. What on earth is the Subway Boss doing? Where are the pokemon? The exhilaration? Why are the trains late ?

Ingo feels a righteous anger bubbling up from within, clawing at his throat, and a fire ignites within his very being. An inferno, ready to consume everything around him. Ingo is a Subway Boss concerned citizen, he will not stand for this.

Stalking around the station, he finally comes across an official looking office. 

Time to settle this the good old way.

The fun fact about walking into someone’s office while shouting in a foreign language, is that it’s often met with violence. Luckily, this is something that Ingo has prepared for. His sleeves are rolled, his partners (who thankfully stayed with him) pokeballs rattling around his belt and his eyes glow an intense silver in the flickering lights of the office. For the poor Metro Master, it comes across as a particularly aggressive haunting, and thus the barely thirty year old attempts to slap the evil before him.

That’s not the right decision by any means, but it certainly is a decision. 

The Metro Master was never seen again. Legends claim that one night, he was visited by the “L’esprit malfaisant du train”, and was dragged to the underworld for his subway-related crimes.

That’s not true, but it’s close enough. In reality, he just quit after facing a particularly angry, very much missing-presumed-dead Subway Boss, because Pierre was not paid enough for this, not at all. 

And if rumours of the spirit of the Unovan Subway Boss coming for terrible Subway workers to make them pay for their crimes began to spread? Well, perhaps Kalos should just get good.

The next day, there is a new Metro Master. No one knows where he came from, what his name is or how he got here, or even what he’s talking about, but he certainly is good, so whatever. This could be worse, honestly. 

His first action as Metro Master is to declare the opening of the Battle Metro. This makes no sense and will cost millions, but the proof is in the poffins, this has worked once, it will work again.

Now, time to argue with some developers.

Now having installed himself as Metro Master- despite barely knowing what a train, let alone a subway is- Ingo finds himself at a roadblock.

He does not know Kalosian. At all. He barely even worked out what the name of the country is, let alone anything else. It also doesn’t help that none of the depot workers can speak the slightly more ancient regional Ranseigo that flows from his lips far easier than any other language. His mottled and broken Galarian from a life once past does him no favours, as he lacks the ability to fluently communicate after so many years of disuse.

However, pointing and interpretive dance seems to work perfectly fine. Your new boss- who materialised in the station one day and took over- gesturing wildly while speaking in a dead language initially was not quite a sight for the faint hearted, but it’s certainly entertaining for the senior agents. Sending the newbies to the Master’s office was like a ‘hazing’ of sorts for the Central Station, and boy was it beautiful to watch.

Ingo had tried to learn, but there were railways to run and people to battle, so his efforts never amounted to anything.

He’ll sort it out eventually, he thought, like a liar.

Ingo did not sort out the language barrier at all.

The Battle Metro is finished, and Ingo couldn't be happier. He practically vibrated during the whole ceremony, so fast that a naked eye would have no chance at catching it. Impressive, really.

Although, Ingo can’t help but glance at  his left, waiting for a reaction that never comes. There should be someone else there, but the man in white stubbornly remains a spectre, just out of sight. Would he have been as happy as him? Did that man like trains as much as he does- as he did?

Ingo doesn’t know.

Pushing those melancholy thoughts aside, he carries onwards, now decked out in a dark blue uniform and trench coat, he gratefully accepts the title as the first Battle Metro Master.

He gets a letter from the Unovan Battle Subway a week after the Battle Metro’s opening.

Fair enough then.

The Metro Master remains a source of confusion.

“So, does anyone actually know anything about the Master? He’s just kind of… Here.” Marie slouches into her chair as she talks, while having her half-eaten sandwich through the air, spilling cheese onto the ground. “I know I’m kinda new. But I don’t even know his name!”

Arthur nods, and takes a sip of his coffee. The cup is plopped back down again with a soft slosh.  “Now you mention it, I don’t know anything either. He’s never said anything about that. What about you, Manon?” 

Manon, senior depot agent, who was present during Metro Master Pierre’s time, shakes her head. “He never said. No one knows anything about him, he appeared one day. Like- poof! He was just sitting in the Master’s office, and he was the new Master.” She shakes her head. “Not that I mind, the previous guy sucked. He was terrible. Apparently a ghost got him.”

Marie perks up a little, suddenly enthralled. “A ghost got him?” Ah, yes. She’s a former Hex Maniac, isn’t she? “Tell me more.”

“Well, keep this under wraps, but the Master might be a ghost. Apparently, the station lighting was flickering like mad. Super bad. And then, there was screaming from the office!” Manon waves her hands dramatically. “My buddy Louis’ buddy Andre said that he saw a fluttering black cloak-” The agents gasp dramatically. Well most of them, but Manon ignores that. “-And glowing eyes. Like the new Master’s. He ran away, and the next day, well- as I said. Here.” She waves her arm once more to emphasise her point.

The idea of potential murder, however, does not sit well with most. 

Arthur glances around, checking for said potentially-maybe-is-a-ghost-Master “Did… Did he kill the previous guy?” Arthur whispers, slightly horrified. 

“Nope. Pierre quit. But it’s funnier to think he got dragged to the Underworld for train-related crimes.” Manon chuckles, but her mirth isn’t shared by her co-workers. “But the Master being a ghost might be true. One of Yveltal’s forgotten.”

Marie grins. “A train ghost? Cool ! Why though?” 

Annie, who’s been watching the exchange with relative distress, suddenly changes. The other agents startle, having never seen this kind of energy from her before. “It’s the fact he speaks solely in a dead Ranseigo dialect!” She pipes in. “Hisuian! Which died out in the mid-to-late 1900s. And he never leaves the station either, and the light issue that Manon mentioned. And the glowing? Ghost.” She starts rattling off a list, and for a moment, Arthur fears that a conspiracy board is about to be wheeled out. “He even befriended the local ghost-types! There’s a whole colony of Litwick, Shuppet and Rotom in the tunnels now.” 

That last point proves nothing, really.

Marie shakes her head. “While most of that’s supporting evidence for the ghost idea, he might also just be a specialist.” She would know, especially with her hoard of Pumpkaboo. A twinkle appears in her eyes. “Maybe he’s a Psychic? He might just really be aiming for the stereotype. Still, cool!”

Manon shakes her head. “No one knows. As you said earlier, there’s no information about him- I thought his name was Glion, but that turns out to just be the Ransei name for Gliscor, so we don’t even have that.”

“Strange…” Arthur pauses. “Does he even have one? If he’s a ghost, that is.”

“Ghosts can have names, Arthur.”

Ingo does in fact live at the station. The rent in Lumiose is way too much for him to afford, so he’s taken to camping out in his office for the time being. It’s not the best, but for Ingo, this might as well be a luxurious hotel. He’s camped out in caves, this is nothing.

However, during one of the late nights, he finds himself plagued with thoughts. Terrible, absolutely not good thoughts. After an hour of sleeplessness, he finds himself turning to his trusted train advisor, Gliscor, who is absolutely not qualified for their position.

“Gliscor, I am considering introducing some of the Rotom to the trains, do you think that would be a good idea?” Ingo thinks it’s a good idea. A Rotom train sounds like fun. “I believe it might help with efficiency.” And look cool. 

“Gllliii.”

Ingo doesn’t understand what that means, but he nods in understanding anyway. “I thought so. Tomorrow?”

“Gar.”

Introducing Rotom to trains was not a good idea, in hindsight.

Emmet is not happy. 

“You need a break Em. Come on. Join me on a modelling trip, Kalos isn’t that bad.” Elesa is currently trying to explain the positives of Kalos, and Emmet refuses to try and consider it. “Lumiose loves you! There’s a battle facility and everything, even paintings of the Battle Subway in the local museums!” She waves her hands, trying to emphasise her point.

That perks Emmet up. “A battle facility?” That’s new, he only remembers the Battle Maison, Battle Chateau and Battle Institute, are there more?

Elesa frowns at him, and slightly tilts her head in confusion. “Don’t you remember the Battle Metro? You ranted to me about it for nearly a week straight. ‘Lawsuit’, you kept saying.” Concern stretches over her face. “Are you alright Em?”

“Battle Metro…” Emmet wracks his memory for anything battle related. Metro. Metro… Oh! He clenches his fist. “Them. I remember now.” How dare they rip off his baby? How dare they rip off Ingo’s baby ? His face darkens. Maybe there is value in going to Kalos, just to enact vengeance.

“Emmet?”

Emmet opens his eyes to Elesa’s increasingly concerned face. This matters not. “I am Emmet. I will go.” Something shines in his eyes. “And… I will go to the Battle Metro. To have. A talk. Train to train.”

Elesa fears what she may have just started, but at the same time, it would be rather fun to stream.

Emmet grits his teeth the whole flight.

Soon.

It’s been a slow day at the Metro. So far, Ingo has yet to have a challenger. It’s 02:12 PM, and Ingo is bored. With nothing to entertain him, he’s taken to baby-talking his team, which unlike the rest of the beings around him, actually know what he’s talking about.

Thus, he’s currently cuddling a giant Hisuian Zoroark, while speaking in the most childish tone he can muster. Chimney loves it.

“ Who’s a good girl? You are !” Ingo tries to pet her head, but to no avail. “ The goodest, fluffiest girl in the world. Absolutely a sweetheart. Polite little lass !” Chimney continues making bark-howls at him, and nuzzles into his side. This is the life.

It is at this moment that the door bursts open, and Ingo barely catches a flash of yellow and silver. The man stares at him. Ingo, hidden behind Chimney and swamped by fur, tries to stare back. His glasses slide down his nose, and Ingo has to prop them back up, while coughing politely.

“What.” Says the man with silver hair and a strangely decorated mask.

“ What .” Ingo repeats back, in Hisuian.

Attempting to get into position, but failing miserably due to excitable Zoroark, Ingo tries to carry out his line whilst his opponent wheezes from across. Ingo pays them no mind, this is fairly normal, all things considered.

Slipping into position, which only makes the man wheeze harder, Ingo carries out his script. "Welcome! I've been waiting for you! Let me introduce myself... I am the Metro Master Ingo. What can I see after winning, winning, and winning? Where is my destination? I've kept thinking, and I've learned one thing. That is, you cannot know what happens after winning without winning. Therefore, I will exert every possible effort to battle with you. All aboard!" This script, honed after many years of battling, would be rather identifying, if it wasn’t for the fact it’s in the wrong language. Oh well.

Ingo readies a pokeball.

The man readies a fist.

Oh no.

He barely has a chance to react before Chimney sweeps him into her paws as the man plants directly onto the floor, fist outstretched. His partner growls in warning, and she presses her trainer to her mane in what appears to be a protective behaviour. Good girl. Her action makes Ingo’s hat, a mimicry of his previous one, tumble to the floor and thus unveiling his face. The man gasps. “Ingo?”

“ Sir ?”

“ INGO ?!” The shriek is half muffled by the floor, but Ingo still recognises his name. Although he hasn’t heard it for nearly a year now, it’s still him, and it’s still his. Finally, someone worked out his name! Took them long enough. The man scrambles up, attempting to get near him. Chimney holds him up, just out of reach. This only distresses the man further. “Ingo. Is ---- you?” He can’t quite make out that bit of Galarian.

“ Sir ?” Ingo repeats once more. Darn language barrier. He pats Chimney’s mane “ Down .” The Zoroark looks at her trainer, then back at the desperate man, and gently sets Ingo down behind her. “Chimney. It’s fine. Let him pass. ” Another pat, and she eventually moves aside, watching the opposing trainer warily. 

“Ingo. I am Emmet. I was so worried…” The man called Emmet babbles at him, so far that Ingo struggles to translate it all. “You were ------- for so ----. And you are here in Kalos ?” 

Ingo doesn’t quite understand what’s going on, but Kalos seems to be a very bad thing in this man’s opinion. Maybe he didn’t like the original Metro Master? “ Sir, I do not understand. I am Ingo. I am a Metro Master.”

“Ingo?” Emmet tilts his head at thim. “Ingo. This isn’t funny.” No, Ingo isn’t trying to be funny. He’s trying to battle. Come on! “I do not understand you Ingo.” 

“ Do you want to battle ?” Ingo’s frustration is growing, but he refuses to show it. Cool. Calm. Ghost of the Met. It’s good. Ingo is good. “ Sir. I am trying to do my job. Please respond. Yes? No? ” Does anyone know Hisuian around here? At all?

Emmet stares at him. Ingo stares back. It’s a stand-off. 

With a sigh, Emmet readies a pokeball, and Ingo does the same. Finally, a battle.

The man called Emmet loses. It’s a close match-up, but Ingo’s move styles end up toppling his opponent quickly. Well- the giant alpha pokemon probably doesn't help either. Not everyone is used to an absolute giant of a pokemon, and intimidation is a surprisingly effective weapon too.

Ingo claps anyone, cheering for his opposition’s efforts. He fought well, and that’s something that Ingo can’t ignore. Even though his head is pounding, and the way Emmet’s Chandelure reacted to him, Ingo has to finish the show. 

With a bow and a smile upon his lips, he spouts that trustly script. "I have won this time, but your talent is very strong! Your tactics...reading... You have great skills. That's right! I would like to battle you again and again! Please ride the Battle Metro again soon!" Ingo doesn’t miss the way the other trainer flinches at the formality, as his very demeanour wounds him, but despite knowing his name, this trainer is not someone Ingo recognises. 

Ingo waves the man off with a stiff wave and a muttered Hisuian goodbye.

“Elesa, the Kalosians stole my brother!”

“What.”

Elesa paces around the floor of her hotel room at a speed that threatens the integrity of the carpet. Her black hair whips around with her, and she’s dutifully joined by her Zebstrika as she really goes ham on that upholstery. “So.” She starts. “You’re telling me you met the Metro Master?”

Emmet nods.

“And instead of a typical Kalosian bloke. You found-” She pauses, trying to work out what to say.  “- a rather dishevelled Ingo.” Elesa turns to Emmet for confirmation. “Right?”

Emmet remains almost perfectly still, hands folded on his lap, but his leg jitters below, kicking out at random intervals. “Yes.”

“And are you sure it’s Ingo?”

“He was scruffy, but that was him. I know what my twin looks like, Elesa.” Emmet turns away, voice softening. “I see his face in the mirror every day.” Same eye shape, same sideburns, same hair and the same nose. When he frowned, he saw Ingo. When he looked at the photographs of himself, he could only see a ghost. “It was him.”

“But… But how? Interpol had a warrant out for him, they searched everywhere. And he’s just-” She waves her arms around, gesturing vaguely. “-In a train station in Lumiose!?”

“Yup.”

“I can’t believe you two.”

The Man-Called-Emmet is back again.

He’s a skilled battler, and his team composition has changed once more. This time, the Eelektross has been replaced by a Haxorus. Is he trying to adapt to his battling? Hm. Very well, Ingo appreciates the challenge.

This time, he's changed his own team to include Basculeigon instead of Zoroark, and once more, he leads with Gliscor. The battle rages around him as Flash Cannons ripple out and dragons scream. The battlefield is chaos, but this is the life Ingo has chosen, he will give it all.

As Gliscor faints, he switches to Alakazam to finish the Haxorus with a combination of an agile Calm Mind and Dazzling Gleam. A cheap tactic, his opponent would say, but Ingo ignores it. These people just don’t know what a good battle is like, clearly Ingo will have to change this world’s tracks to a different style. There’s a reason why the Hisuian Singles train will follow this road evermore. 

The world that was once his home will not be forgotten. 

Even though he has a new home, Hisui will hold a special place in his heart.

His opponent responds with a Galvantula, and poor Alakazam crumples as they take a particularly nasty X-Scissor. Ow. “Bravo Alakazam, you did well! ” The Galarian word slips out easily, almost jarring in the usual track of Hisuian Ranseigo. Yet, it’s one of the only words that Ingo remembers, and he’ll cling onto the past for as long as he can.

Emmet flinches at his “ Bravo!”,  as if the word was a weapon. Odd. Oh well, with a cry of “ Machamp, get ready for departure!” He releases his next partner, who briefly flexes in a show of power. Okay then, sure.

“ Machamp. Ice Punch, strong style !” His partner roars in understanding, and the poor Galvantula squeaks as tries to dodge. The first frosty fist missed, but the second landed. With that, Galvantula is out.

The battle gets closer after that. Emmet’s Excadrill, who had wailed upon seeing him, had thrown him for a loop after landing a particularly strong Aerial Ace. But ultimately, Ingo won again. 

Once more, Ingo repeated his script, congratulating his opponent for his efforts.

Once more, Emmet left the Battle Metro, empty-handed and brotherless.

“He still didn’t recognise you?” 

Emmet, slumped across the hotel sofa, merely sniffles in response. Chandelure floats over him, chiming a lullaby, while tears roll down Emmet’s face. 

Elesa sighs. “I think there’s more at play here.” She shakes her head. “There must be more at play here. He shows up, doesn’t speak much- or really any Galarian, doesn’t recognise you… Emmet, I think he has amnesia.”

“How?” Emmet chokes out, amidst his laboured breaths, everyone felt agonising. His heart was ripping in two, and “He disappeared in a tunnel. And now- Kalos!” He throws his arms up with  half-hearted energy, and both tumble beside him once more. Flopping uselessly, like a Magikarp, like him. “What... What should I do?”

“Em. I’m not sure what you can do.” Elesa flops onto her bed, ignoring the way her makeup smudges, or the way her clothes crease. “I- Next time. I’ll go with you. Together, we might be able to bring him back.”

“Two days.”

“What?”

“We only have two days left.” Emmet clarifies. “Two days to convince him. Two days.”

“Emmet, we- That’s not a limiting factor. We’ll be able to stay longer, if you want.” It’s never about the time, nor the money. Elesa has a cheap stay right now, and she’ll pay as much as she needs to bring Ingo home. “I can-”

“I know. Elesa. I know. But- What if he does not want to come back?”

“Emmet…” 

“I am verrry, verrrrry scared.”

Work has been… Interesting today.

Ingo had ambled out of the office at the crack of dawn, having gotten a mighty three hours of sleep that night. It was an increase from his usual two, so he was pleased with that. What he wasn’t pleased with, however, was the sea of clowns that he was faced with at approximately 07:49 AM.

That had been a form of emotional whiplash. Just- clowns. Everywhere.

For a brief moment, he had visions of silk web, paint and a smirk. This horrified Ingo.

Just when the clown incident ended, the people of Lumiose decided to treat him with a series of increasingly odder events. There had been a full theatre play in the Green Line to city centre line at 10:11 AM, much to his employees’ amusement. The disruption was irritating, but the morale boost had been beneficial, so he let it slide for now.

There had also been a series of loose pokemon, which had been less fun and more dangerous. Rampaging Gogoats are rather difficult to handle, and the colony of ghosts in the tunnels had made it somewhat worse and somewhat better. An army of Litwicks easily took down a goat, and thus, legends of the ghostly Metro Master only had gotten worse. Ingo fears the potential exorcism attempts that would be born from this.

All in all, it had left poor Ingo with swathes of paperwork, and the Singles train without its usual conductor. No matter, the final opponent was skilled, and Ingo had no doubt Manon could handle it easily. Her tactics were flawless, and could only refine with time.

Thus, Ingo had waved her off after an awkward series of pointing and miscommunication, and he retreated to his office-slash-humble abode. His grasp on the spoken language had improved, but his tongue stubbornly refused to make the appropriate sounds, thus he ended up drawing awkwardly. Manon appreciated the effort, however.

When it came to written language, Ingo was the polyglot to end all polyglots. He could remember the words, he could recognise they way they felt in his head and roll, wrap and present them beautifully. Thus, paperwork came to him easily. It was odd, but it was almost familiar. Ingo might even argue that it was reassuring, or even comforting. Strange really, but that was just life. Odd and uncontrollable, but sometimes it brought you little joys.

Now, if only he could get the Multi train rota sorted out.

Ingo would like to battle with a partner again.

Hmm. Well… Marie is without a partner today, and he’s the only one who could be relatively free at that shift… Maybe..? 

It’s a struggle, as he tries to consider how the man in white will feel. It feels like a betrayal; however, the man in white is nowhere to be found. 

He holds the pen above the paper, hand slightly wobbling as he considers each option. To do, or to not. Do? Not?

The pen hits the paper.

Looks like he’ll have to change his team composition a bit later.

The train rumbles across the tracks, the boss awaits on the final car. But…

“What do you mean he’s not here?” Elesa puts her hands on her hips, as she faces the blue-clad metro worker. “Doesn’t he run the Singles train?”

Manon, as the badge on her chest proudly exclaims, shakes her head. “Boss has been reassigned. There’s maintenance to be done, he is not available until tomorrow.” That’s not quite the truth, but Manon isn’t about to give the whereabouts of her Boss to any old Joe who wanders in. That’s against protocol! Not safe, nope, not at all. “I’m sorry Madam. You will have to challenge the trains another day.”

Elesa only looks more desperate, as her Emolga squeaks from her shoulder in concern. “Is there any way to challenge him? I don’t- I’m on a time limit.” She's trying to hide her jittering hands, but from the way her pockets shuffle, it’s not going well. “It’s important.”

Manon narrows her eyes at the supermodel that she’s seen on countless magazines and posters, Electrifying Elesa, eh? Why is she so desperate to see the Master? “I do not understand.” 

“I know him!” 

“You… You know Boss?” That’s not new, everyone knows the rumours of Lumiose’s local cryptid, the Ghostly Master. Elesa should try harder. “Most know of him. He is famous.”

Elesa shakes her head, waving a hand. “No. No. Not like that.” She tries to place emphasis on her point. “I know him from before. He went missing years ago!” 

He went missing? Does that mean..?

“L’esprit malfaisant du train…” She mutters quietly. The rumours of the spirit haunting the Metro was true, then? It had always been a joke about her boss, but now it’s looking like the conspiracies were correct. “It is true? He is a ghost?” Annie will be overjoyed to hear that the theories they had forced upon her co-workers were true. Arthur, on the other hand, will likely not be the most pleased with the implications. “Elle avait raison…”

“What? No? Ingo is perfectly alive from what I remember?” Nobody was found, nor any sign of a death. Chandelure would have disappeared, if so. “He just went- poof! One day. No one saw him again.”

“Maybe…” Manon considers her next words. “He disappeared for a reason.” Oh that’s mean. Super effective! Elesa’s heart faints. “If that is all. Then prepare for battle! If you want to face the Master, then fight! After all, there is no shortcut going anywhere that is worth going!”

Manon claps as her pokemon lay on the ground, fainted. “Congratulations! You have beaten the Singles train.”

“Where is the Master? You promised me a battle with him.” Elesa cuts straight to the chase. She refuses to wait for her chance, every hour counts. “I know that there’s privacy laws, but this is important.”

Manon pauses, mentally considering her options. She refuses to crumble now, but that defeated look tugs at her heartstrings. Integrity or compassion? No. She can’t risk it. “The schedules are available an hour before the train runs. There is little I can tell you anyway.” Elesa deflates. “But- he will not be here.”

“Huh?”

“The Singles train is currently under my command for today. Try another one.”

“Are you saying?”

“The Master can’t stay away from the battlefield for long. He has a trench coat. His uniform is unique.” Manon looks away, refusing to meet Elesa’s eyes. “Good luck.”

“ Thank you. ”

Ingo walks through the crowds with a mask upon his face and his hat pulled down low. His glasses are steaming up, but that matters not in Ingo’s eyes, after a year of living solely within the station he’s found he can navigate it with ease. He can hear the clicks of cameras and flashes briefly obscure his vision, but he moves onwards, followed by Marie.

He does wish that the conspiracy theorists and reporters would leave him alone for a bit, he’s not a real ghost- or at least, Ingo thinks he still breathes. He is a ghost in another form, he’s the ghost of Hisui, and likely one of the few living relics left.

Ingo does not like to think about the weight of that burden.

Oblivious of the world around him, Ingo does not spot the flash of silver hair with a ruffled yellow jumper and a black-haired woman following him. He does not hear them call his name.

He is the Master of the Metro. He carries onward.

Marie is a decent conversation partner, despite the lack of conversation on his end. Her speech is fast, and often leaves Ingo straining his ears in order to understand her, but she’s patient as he scribbles his responses down. 

She tells him stories of recent battles, how adorable her ghost-types are and what restaurants she visited recently, along with an excited “ You should come with next time, Boss! ”. Ingo appreciates the thought, but he’s not a fan of wandering the streets, too busy and way too much to keep track of. Overwhelming , he scrawls, and circles it several times to make a point.

Marie looks at the word, then back up at him, and nods. “I understand. The crowds?” 

Yes .

“Lumiose is rather busy. Not suitable for everyone.” She pauses. “But the Metro is busy too. Is that not a problem?”

It is different. Controllable. 

“I see. I see.” Marie accepts the answer, somewhat understanding him. “It makes sense, the trains have timetables. You know when they arrive. You know when they leave.”

Exactly .

“So, do you think we’re getting any challengers today? It’s been an hour so far, and there’s no one.” She yawns, stretching out her arms. “I’d like to battle someone, I’m bored… ”

Maybe. Maybe not. Our station is not easy to reach. It may take a while.

“True.”

“I almost feel sorry for our opponents.” Elesa practically drags Emmet through the cabin, as she nonchalantly crushes another foe. “A Subway Boss and a Gym Leader, they had no chance.”

“Yup. We have two more cars to go. I hope Ingo is ready.” Emmet barrels through the gangway. “He was better at Singles. I am the double battle master.” Emmet pauses. “I also have a lot of pent up anger.”

“Oh no.”

The car in front of them is rumbling. Familiar clatters and screeches wail out. Marie starts to grin, an almost feral look on her face. “Looks like we might have a challenge. Are you ready Boss.”

Exciting. We will have to prepare for departure .

She smiles, teeth bared. It’s like Zisu all over again. “Of course.”

“Congratulations! You have defeated me!” The trainer is overly grandiose, but Emmet lets them carry out their speech anyway. “Do you seek greater heights? Only time will tell- Now then! Go and face the Master!”

Emmet nods and holds out a hand to Elesa. “Together?”

“Together.”

The door creaks open, time to get into position. Check safety, everything is ready! Ingo breathes in, then out. Showtime.

The two people who get him are eerily familiar, the first being the man who keeps challenging him- the one who knows his name, and the other is..? Ah! That woman from the magazines, right? Yes! What was her name again? Emilie? Emma? Ellie? No. That’s not it…

Hmm.

Oh well, no time dwelling on the past, better get on with it!

Ingo clears his throat and starts his script. In Hisuian.

" I am the Metro Master, Ingo. The fellow over to the side is a Metro Agent, Marie . Will a Multi Battle help us cover each other's weakness? ” The script, the hand gestures, they all come easily. His opponents flinch as he unknowingly signs along to his speech. “ Or will you show your overwhelming power? I look forward to seeing how well you fight. However, it is difficult to win unless you and your partner are in total sync. " He gestures to his partner, signalling for her to continue. “Marie, if you will .”

“I am Marie. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Cheer practically drips from her words. “I’ve seen things beyond your comprehension. Will this battle be a nightmare? Or will it be a sweet dream? Will you win? Or will the Ghost and the Witch reign supreme?” She giggles. “Let us find out!”

The Man-Called-Emmet and the Supermodel blink owlishly at her, then turn to each other with raised brows. Ingo stifles the urge to do the same. 

Marie, what on earth?

Oh well, no matter. Ingo readies his pokeball. He exhales, cries an ear splitting “ All aboard! ”, and swings into position. Let the battle begin!

He leads once more with Gliscor, and Marie releases her Aegislash. Their opponents lead with a combination of Stunfisk and Durant, an interesting duo. Not one he would have considered, especially the Stunfisk.

“ Gliscor, agile X-Scissor on the Stunfisk! ” Ingo points directly at the pokemon. “ Then a normal X-Scissor, please! ” His opponents seem mystified by the pointing, seemingly unsure on what he’s saying, or doing at all. Thank goodness that no one knows Hisuian, eh? Gliscor pounces immediately, aiming straight for the Stunfisk, the first hit lands, but before the second one can-

Ingo vaguely makes out a series of calls from the opposition. “Durant-” something. “Claw!” and a cry from Miss Model of “Stunfisk, Scald on Gliscor!” Scald..?

Oh, oh no. Ingo’s warning shout falls short, and poor Gliscor gets hit with a boiling spray of water in retaliation, sending them careening to the side. Steam fills the train, misting Ingo’s glasses. Gliscor doesn’t faint, but the heavy breathing certainly indicates their weakened state, and the second X-Scissor seems weaker than the first. 

Marie follows suit. “Aegislash! Now, King’s Shield, let’s stall them!” Her Aegislash braces itself, taking a defensive position. “Good, don’t break it!” It obeys, but the brunt of the Shadow Claw makes them screech. Aegislash remains upright, however, as their parry protects them from any real damage. 

“Marie!” Ingo cries. He makes a motion towards Gliscor, and she nods. 

“Aegislash, use Sacred Sword on the Durant, give Gliscor breathing room!” 

“ Gliscor, a strong Stone Edge, please! ” Ingo knows that the move likely won’t land, especially with the way that Stunfisk is gearing up for an attack, it’s hopeless. He winces as another super effective attack hits, once more, Gliscor is down. However, they were able to take the Stunfisk down too, so there’s some hope. “Bravo, Gliscor. You did well.” 

Ingo watches as the chaos around him unfolds, as Durant unleashes another Shadow Claw. Another super effective move, and Aegislash is down. Ouch.

Another pair of pokeballs are readied. “ Machamp! Let this be their end terminal! Fire Punch on Durant! ” His partner responds with a burly “Ma!” and coats his fists with flames, before twisting around to hit Durant while the Supermodel quickly sends out an Emolga, who immediately goes for an Acrobatics on Marie’s freshly released Trevenant, who faints almost immediately. Flying gem and Acrobatics? Absolutely nasty. At least Durant is down.

That leaves the Emolga and now an Archeops against Machamp.

Ingo feels like closing his eyes now. 

The Ice Punch flies, but so does Machamp- across the car, that is. A combination Aerial Ace and Acrobatics leaves his poor partner winded, and with that, Ingo recalls his partner. His face unintentionally slips into a frown, then into a pleased smile as he applauds his opponents. “Bravo !! Really excellent ! The best combination of you and your Pokémon. It is incredible! When you and someone else combine, your engine powers something special! If you like, please challenge us - Oeugh !” One of the man’s pokeballs open, and the Chandelure from before barrels into him, wailing all the way. “Who are..?”

“Chandelure! Stop that! He doesn’t remember!” The Supermodel tries to pry the Chandelure off him, but to no avail. It’s grip tightens. Their wailing intensifies. “ Chandelure !”

Ingo struggles to breathe as his vision is wreathed in flames. It’s just like- “ I know you. ” Ingo has seen those flames before, and he doesn’t just mean his wards from the tunnels. This specific Chandelure means something to him. He wiggles an arm free, brushing against Chandelure's face. “ I knew you .” Ingo looks up, truly taking in the face of the Supermodel and her partner. It takes a moment, but Ingo slowly notices silver sideburns and the shadow of a smile. “ I know you. ”

Marie seems frozen as she watches the exchange, until a motion from Ingo makes her relax. A hand sign, ‘safe’ . 

The Chandelure loosens their grip, freeing Ingo. Gingerly, he stands up on trembling legs and fishes out his notebook and pen. He nods at his opponents and scrawls something down, the book is turned to face them.

There, before them in big, blocky letters, are three heartbreaking words:

I know you.