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.

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.