Chapter Text
Location: Singles Line (In Route to Gear Station)
Today has been a long day. Far too long for Ingo’s liking. He hasn’t had a moment to rest since Emmet dragged him out of bed this morning, which has left Ingo feeling exhausted. It was like the second the two of them walked into Gear Station to start their shifts, the floodgates were opened.
Ingo spent most of his day running around to deal with unruly passengers and battling on the Singles Line, hardly even seeing his brother at all. It wasn’t until Emmet came by the Singles platform a little while ago that Ingo saw him. His brother looked like dead weight on his feet, which made sense. Emmet usually wakes up earlier than Ingo does, so he was sure Emmet was more tired than he was feeling. Ingo insisted Emmet go home and that he would close up the station on his own. He was happy to do that if it meant Emmet gets more rest.
Which led Ingo to where he is now. He finished his last battle of the night right after he told Emmet to go home. The challenger he’d faced was quite strong and made for a great opponent! Normally, Ingo would have gone home too after that battle, but it’s his turn to run the nightly maintenance shift. Which includes running the line once to make sure everything is in proper working order for tomorrow's work day.
He’d already finished checking the Multis line and Emmet had checked the Doubles before he left. And thank the dragons for that! Ingo now has one less thing to do thanks to Emmet. He’d take any lightening of his workload.
Most of the Depot Agents have gone home too, leaving Ingo alone on the Singles line. Ingo does not mind being alone, but he is certainly ready to be home and some help in making this process go faster would have been appreciated. Alas, it was not meant to be. At least his run of the Singles is almost done now.
He looks forward to spending the rest of the night relaxing at home.
The subway rattles under Ingo’s feet as it races along the tracks. He can hear the wheels rolling and the shrill screeching of steel as the subway turns a corner. Every bump and sway is one he knows by heart; a movement he feels even hours after he gets off. He leans into the motions, shifting with the rise and fall of the car like Ingo himself is a cog in the great mechanical wonder. His hand is clenched around the handle hanging down from the ceiling. Not that he really needs to hold on. It’s merely a formality.
Brief flashes illuminate the car as the subway rushes past the lights lining the tunnels. There are some that complain about the flashes being jarring, but Ingo doesn’t mind it. He’s grown used to this, after all. The subway is as much a part of him as he is a part of it. Even if late night shifts like this one do weigh on him.
Ingo prefers being up late on his own terms, when he doesn’t have responsibilities to take care of. Being in his room with a good book or sitting in the living room with his favorite show on low volume is the best way to spend an evening. His brother has always considered him odd for that, though Emmet is both biased and wrong in Ingo’s opinion. He goes to bed early and is more of a morning person than Ingo will ever understand. How can anyone be so lively right after waking up? Ingo would think it impossible if his own twin brother wasn’t one of those people who are up with the sun.
Fortunately, their differing internal clocks work well for them. Emmet handles most things in the morning while Ingo takes care of the nightly routine. It’s simpler to share the workload that way and Ingo wouldn’t change it for the world.
A particularly harsh rattle from the car beneath his feet nearly knocks Ingo down and snaps him out of his thoughts. He looks up at the digital map above the door, making a mental note of where that bump occured. It’s about ten minutes out from platform three; the platform that the Singles subway returns to every night. He’ll have to make a report about it and send the maintenance crew to fix that immediately. It could become unsafe if the issue is prolonged.
Ingo debates just shooting off a message on his XTrans, but decides against it. This should be reported more officially over email. He’ll have to wait until he has his computer to do it, which should still be charging in his bedroom. Until then, Ingo will leave it be. He’s almost done with his shift anyway and he’ll be on his way home soon. Ingo will have time later. So, he settles back into place, watching the little red dot on the map move with the subway.
Installing these screens on the Battle Subway lines was a recent change. They’re already on all of the commuter rails for the convenience of their passengers, but nobody thought to put them in the Battle Subway lines as well until a couple months ago. Emmet suggested it. He said it would be useful for both the Depot Agents and their passengers. They were put in just last week.
Ingo will admit he didn’t see the point in it when Emmet first brought it up, but he can appreciate his brother’s train of thought. It’s helpful in keeping track of where the subway is while on board, not that Ingo doesn’t already know the routes by heart, and watching the dot move is more entertaining than it should be. Or perhaps Ingo is simply more tired than he thought. Exhaustion makes people do weird things, right? Ingo feels like he read that somewhere.
He can feel himself nodding off, the hypnotic sway of the car and the calm motion of the dot working together to take down his already tired mind.
Biting back a yawn, Ingo glances down at his XTrans. It’s almost midnight now. Ingo sighs, dragging a hand over his face. He really hates working night shifts. Dealing with passengers all day and all night is truly a test of his patience at times and leaves his social battery woefully depleted. Ingo doesn’t even want to stay up any later. He’s just going to go straight to bed when he gets home. This is the first time in a long time that Ingo has felt so utterly drained. He’s almost surprised at how tired he is.
It seems that the workload at Gear Station really has been increasing over the past couple of weeks. Maybe he should finally try to convince Emmet to go on a vacation sometime like Elesa had been suggesting lately. Somewhere warm and tropical. Ingo knows how much his twin hates being cold and he doesn’t fare any better in such conditions.
Ingo’s train of thought is derailed by a soft ding from his XTrans. He looks down and a message pops up on his screen. It’s from Emmet, asking when he’ll be home. Ingo glances at the time of arrival on the screen near the door. Eight minutes now. He sends Emmet a message of ‘soon’ back before letting his arm drop. It won’t be long before the subway pulls into Gear Station and then his apartment is a short distance away. The idea of home is the only thing keeping him on his feet at the moment.
Unbeknownst to Ingo, he is not alone.
From the shadows, a hidden pair of eyes is watching him. They failed to grab his kin. His brother. He ran away from their token and evaded their call… but this human has nowhere to go. He cannot escape their call, even if he tried. And this man shares blood with the other, which means surely he will be able to succeed in completing their task. He is a near copy of the other. They cannot be so different. So, they will have to settle for this one.
But first, they will make sure he really can’t escape. They expand their presence, creeping into the human’s mind. Shifting their typing to psychic before using hypnosis on him. The effects are immediate and the human begins to get drowsy. Good. Now all they have to do is wait for him to fall asleep before they can make their move and call him into their domain.
Ingo is hit with a wave of exhaustion. It settles over him like a weighted blanket on his shoulders, threatening to drag him down to the floor. He sways on his feet a little, but manages to right himself. Ingo tightens his hold on the handle above him. Geez, where did this come from? He felt a bit sleepy a second ago sure, but right now he’s having a hard time keeping his eyes open.
The car around him looks blurry as he fights to keep his eyelids from closing. He’s almost at the station, which means taking a nap right now wouldn’t do him any good. Ingo would just have to get back up before he could actually get any sleep… but Ingo is really struggling to not fall asleep where he stands.
Maybe resting his eyes for a minute wouldn’t hurt? Just until he reaches Platform Three.
He steps away from his position at the end of the car and off towards the seats lining the sides. His stride is shakier than he would like it to be and he stumbles a little as he approaches them… what’s wrong with him? It feels like he barely has control over his limbs; everything is heavy. Are the effects of his day just hitting him now? What bad timing. He wishes Emmet were here to lean on. Maybe he wouldn’t be so exhausted if his twin were here to keep him awake. Oh well, he’ll see Emmet soon anyway.
Ingo plops himself down with a tired groan. Oh yeah. A vacation is certainly needed. He swears his legs are going to fall off. The pins and needles in his heels don’t help that sentiment either.
He glances up at the camera in the corner before he pulls his legs up onto the seat; he knows he’s not supposed to do that. It risks getting the seats dirty, but it’s more comfortable this way. Wait…
Something is wrong with the camera.
This red recording light flickering. That’s highly irregular. Usually if something is wrong with it, it’s only noticeable from the control room and on the footage it takes. Which means to see the light flickering means it’s really broken. The camera has never malfunctioned this badly. Ingo watches the light, shaking his head to try to stay awake. He shakes his head so hard it hurts.
Ingo should report that the camera is broken. He doesn’t need his computer to do that, as a text message to his brother would work too. Ingo attempts to lift his arm, only to find he can’t move it — can’t even feel it.
A spike of dread settles in his gut as he watches the frantic flickering.
Ingo can’t move.
Something is very wrong here. To be hit so strongly with exhaustion that came out of the blue… had he ingested something? Did he get hit with an attack? Wouldn’t he have felt something if that were the case? He didn’t. Everything was fine until it wasn’t. Which means this is very abnormal. Ingo feels panic start to flood his system as his body involuntarily goes limp against the seats.
This is bad. Really bad. Ingo should call his brother, but he still can’t move his arms. He’s fully lost control of them. Any attempt he makes is fruitless or only results in a slight twitch of his fingers and a tingling sensation. That can’t be right. Exhaustion doesn’t result in losing feeling in the body, does it? So surely this must be the work of someone who does not have his best interest in mind.
Ingo wishes Emmet didn’t leave. He wishes his brother was here with him to help him… but he’s not and Ingo is alone.
The rocking of the car works against him now and his eyelids become too heavy. Ingo can’t fight it anymore, eyelids drooping closed.
The last thing he sees before falling asleep is the frantic flashing of the recording light and then everything is dark.
Location: ???
Ingo is weightless. He can’t move, can’t see, can’t even take a full breath. It’s so dark. He can feel his body slowly falling.
Down,
down,
down.
Where is he going? What happened? Ingo finds he’s having trouble recalling what he was just doing… he was… in the subway. Right. Ingo was doing a maintenance run and then… what was he doing? Where is… Emmet? His brother. Why wasn’t Emmet with him again? Weren’t they always together? Why… Ingo’s head hurts. No. Hurts is too light a word. He can’t think of a more fitting one.
Ingo’s head is pounding like there’s something trying to smash his skull, or driving a stake into the space between his eyes. It’s a pain beyond anything Ingo has ever experienced. He wants to run away from the agony it's causing, but he can’t. Ingo can’t escape it no matter what he does. His body won’t move; locked in place. The pain is all encompassing.
As Ingo descends, the space around him begins to shift. It morphs into something rolling and restless, ready to swallow him whole like it has a mind of its own. He falls faster and faster, wind wailing in his ears and tearing at his clothes. Ripping. Shredding. Sharp. It stings against his skin.
Ingo flails as he tries to grab on to something. Anything. All he can grab is empty air.
He forces his eyes to open against the whipping wind. Nothing around him makes sense and it only makes the pounding in his head worse. There’s darkness and color and screeching. Flashes of light strike the empty space around him like lightning. Ingo feels like he’s stuck in a vortex. His body is being dragged down, helpless against the pull.
It feels like there are hands on him too, gripping and yanking and making it impossible to get away. Ingo doesn’t see them. Pain erupts from his limbs, like they’re a moment away from being torn off.
A weight is pressing on his ribcage, forcing Ingo to gasp for breath. The darkness swirls and writhes around him; a restless wave, drowning out anything beyond its emptiness. Ingo couldn’t even scream, choking on the pressure pulling him further still.
It threatens to engulf him completely.
Ingo is weightless and heavy all at once, like he has a rock chained to his ankle and he’s drowning in the deep sea.
Is this what dying feels like? Or maybe he’s already dead. This place, wherever it is, feels so close to death that Ingo would not be able to tell the difference. But how could that have happened? Ingo always made sure to run all safety checks. He was careful and aware of his surroundings at all times. How could he have died? The subway had been running just fine a moment ago. What changed? There was something… Ingo can’t remember what it was.
The further he goes, the less he remembers… he felt like he knew just a moment ago… maybe this was some fluke? A freak accident nobody could have predicted? A train-wreck maybe. Or perhaps Ingo had worked himself too hard, far past what a human body could handle and it had given out on him. That’s right. He was tried, wasn’t he? He has to be.
But he was so careful… Ingo was supposed to be going home to… to Emmet. To his brother. Ingo can’t leave his brother behind.
Ingo told Emmet he would be home, didn’t he? He was… why isn’t Emmet with him? Is he falling too? What if Emmet already… no. Emmet wasn’t with him. Emmet wouldn’t be dying right now. So, his twin wouldn’t know what happened to him, nor would his parents and his friends. Is Ingo going to die without properly saying goodbye to them? To his brother? His other half? No… no, that cannot be! They are a two-car train. Ingo can’t be ripped away from him just like that, right?
He grapples at the empty space in front of him, trying to claw his way back up, grasping for anything that could pull him out of this awful place. There’s nothing. Ingo can’t escape and his brother will be left alone. He doesn’t want to die. Not without saying goodbye to Emmet at the very least.
And yet, Ingo is alone in the hollow emptiness. He will never see his brother again…
There are tears welling up in his eyes. Ingo’s entire body hurts and the wind stings against his eyes, but all he can focus on is his brother. He wants his brother. He wants to be held in his arms and feel safe again, but he can’t because Em… Em? Because his brother… his brother… what was his name? His brother’s name? Ingo can’t remember his name.
A sob rises in his throat, choking him. He’s losing himself to the darkness. He wants to go back home to his family. This isn’t fair!
Ingo wants his brother!
He wants…
Who?
Why is he crying?
He feels himself start to slow down. The wind dies back down into a low whistle and the agony in his head settles into a dull throbbing. His body tingles a little. He doesn’t remember why his eyes are wet. What is there to cry about? He’s slowing down and he’s not in as much pain as he was before. Isn’t that a good thing?
To his left, there’s a golden flash; a light so bright that he can only squint against it. What’s that? He turns his head to his left… there’s something shimmering and white… white is supposed to be on his left, but this feels wrong. Why?
He stares at the white creature for a while, then a voice starts to speak to him.
Welcome to my realm, located beyond both time and space. It is well that thou art here. I am that which humans call Arceus. Tell me, human. Who art thee?
The words prompt a silence. He does not have an answer to that question.
Everything around him stands still, as if waiting on bated breath. He finds his own has stilled in his chest too. It’s suffocating… he tries to call forth an answer, only to find that it’s taking him longer than it should. Who is he? He is… a two-car train… he is… what is his name? He searches his mind, only to come up with nothing. Not who he was, nor where he came from. Panic explodes in his chest. Why does he not know who he is? A name is the most simple piece of an identity… if he doesn’t have a name, is he nobody?
Arceus is silent now, awaiting his answer. The golden light does not falter in the face of silence. It shines in front of him as a beacon and from it, he receives only patience and a divine rush of calm. He sucks in a breath and with it follows a name. His name. The information settles back into its rightful place in his mind and Ingo exhales.
“Ingo. My name is Ingo.”
Ingo… soon thou shalt find thyself in a world strange to thee. A world inhabited by wondrous creatures that humans call “Pokémon.” Ingo… seek out all Pokémon and thou shalt find me once more.
All at once, the world around Ingo collapses and he's falling again.