#//also the dude is a npc so you can control him--just some rocket grunt em probably pissed off before

[emmetrain]

Starter for @gcd-fcrsaken ~

{𝆕} Rest awhile, they're coming for you There's a price to be paid for the things that we do {𝆕}

A rainy day. Just what Emmet needed. Retreating into the lowest level to check on the machinery and avoid the sound that seemed to bring the worst of the memories, Emmet had to stay most of the evening and the night, unable to physically go out when the weather had been like that. Ingo would know why he hadn’t come home, so there was no need to worry about letting him know. And terrorizing Volo with awful, ugly plushie pictures had been entertaining enough to calm the storm raging inside of him.

The awful pitter-patter of the rain had stopped, after midnight, Emmet would assume. Taking the necessary precautions and closing up the station for the night, he proceeded to take his usual route back home. His mind was still hung up on what Volo was up to–-all the glimpses into Volo’s interactions with others were scattered. Hardly made any sense. Two sets of steps, the smell of petrichor, and the nightlights reflected on the ground like the brush strokes of a painter were captivating, but never enough for Emmet to like the cloudy skies. All he wanted now was to get himself home and wake Ingo up just to grumble, if his night owl twin even slept. The steps drew near.

A Pokemon cry, the chatter of a critter, snapped his attention away from the familiar sound of two sets of steps. It was late, very late, for there to be any battles taking place. However, his curiosity piqued, he focused on the source and found himself following the tracks to the alleyway. Joltiks usually liked following him around, and it sounded very close. A scoff leaving his lips, he could almost recognize where he stood, one of many places he had kicked the hornet’s nest when Ingo had been away, and Emmet needed answers. A battle had taken place in that very alleyway, back then.

A hand reached out of the shadows.

Emmet threw himself away in time to dodge. Looking back. Seeing the figure in black closing his way. Ingo? No. Ingo was home. But steps. The presence ever since he left the station–... Behind Emmet stood a dead-end. He reached for his belt—to get one of the stationed Poke Balls to counter— but he felt psychic used on him to restrain before he could act.

“Let’s make this quick, Subway Boss,” the cold voice cut the silence. Emmet hitched his breath, eyes widened.

There had been two. It was just their standard operating procedure. Unaware. Too occupied. Too occupied to notice—

Silver eyes could only watch the knife drawn close to him. Pressed to his throat. Time stopped.