Patrons had an unfortunate habit of forgetting that, for all of the building’s history, Gear Station was a state of the art facility; a dutiful upkeep and adherence to modern technology kept it working as smooth as humanly possible.

One of those amenities, of course, was the network of cameras spanning the entire site. While the staff tried their best to prevent any accidents, a video feed was the best way to track a missing child or wayward Pokemon. Even the Battle Subway cars were equipped with research-grade cameras so that a trainer might request the recording for review or as a trophy, though the presence there was somewhat more widely recognized.

Sometimes what the cameras captured was best forgotten, sometimes it was of the utmost importance.

“That is the ugliest Furfrou I’ve ever seen.” Emmet said, leaning in to scrutinize the creature on the foremost monitor. Even with his extensive knowledge of Pokemon, it was hard to say what it was-- something about it seemed to be interfering with the video feed and, while clearly quadrupedal, any further details were difficult to make out.

The comment came a mere handful of seconds before the radio at Ingo’s hip crackled to life-- Furze requesting assistance with an unknown Pokemon in the central hub-- and he sent back a short affirmative for the both of them, allowing Emmet a moment longer to study it before resting a hand on his shoulder, signaling that it was time to intervene.

Emmet didn’t argue-- he had no reason to. Dealing with unruly commuters, be they human or Pokemon, was just part of the job, and even if it hadn’t been one of his responsibilities, he’d have considered it just to get a better look at whatever was currently causing a commotion in the main thoroughfare. He allowed himself to be spun 180 degrees and, in turn, went to wrench open the door to the control room; Ingo gave a short nod as he passed, hesitating on the other side just long enough for Emmet to step into place beside him, and together they sought out the day’s problem Pokemon.

The path through the station’s backrooms could be winding, but this particular trip was rather succinct. The familiar pattern of their footsteps against the tile was quickly overtaken by a nervous chatter as they drew nearer and nearer to the affected area, until finally the entire scene became visible.

While the scale had been plain on tape, somehow, the knowledge of relative sizes hadn’t prepared Emmet for the sheer extent of it in person. He was incredibly aware of Gear Station’s dimensions, the ideal capacity and what it could not support under any circumstance-- and while it was an empirical fact that this Pokemon wasn’t a greater burden than a rush hour crowd, there was still an itching paranoia that it was beyond what the facility could house.

It was said that Pokemon of particular significance exuded a pressure that could be felt by any unlucky enough to enter their radius. He wondered if this was one such Pokemon.

He wanted to battle it, he decided. And then he was going to ban it from the premises.

As if his twin was aware of these intentions, he felt a hand grasp his bicep, and while that slowed him, it wasn’t what made him preemptively freeze in his tracks.

That honor went to the Pokemon as it turned its attention toward him. Part of Emmet was aware that it only held his gaze for a handful of seconds, but for a short eternity, the only thing he could focus on was red ringed in green. Then, as if nothing remarkable had happened, it turned its attention away and time resumed.

Without any fanfare, the grand crest encircling its head flared brightly and the weight blanketing everything in its perimeter vanished. All at once, Emmet realized he could breathe freely again-- that he’d been slowly suffocating as it had drawn ever closer.

But, along with the otherworldly pressure, the grounding grip on his arm had also disappeared.

-

Elsewhere and elsewhen-- everywhere and everywhen-- a conversation took place.

Unfortunately, any memory of it would fade away alongside the time and space that was and wasn’t.

-

The urge to panic was short lived. Just as abruptly as Emmet realized he stood alone, there was an undignified yelp and a dark shape dropped out of the air from about four feet up. With a single glance over his shoulder, at where the Pokemon had once stood-- far, far closer than he remembered permitting it-- Emmet crouched down to check his brother over.

Ingo responded readily and allowed Emmet to pull him into an upright position without issue. His fall hadn’t been from a particularly dangerous height, but on the station’s tile flooring, it would certainly smart. He hadn’t hit his head, so any injury incurred would be a minor one, which meant that really, the biggest concern here was--

“What just happened?”

Forearms still firmly trapped in Emmet’s grip, Ingo turned both palms up. “I’m afraid I couldn’t say. A… botched teleport, perhaps? The why is, unfortunately, beyond me.”

“Teleport?” Emmet echoed, dubious. He wasn’t aware of any quadrupeds that naturally learned it, but the prospect couldn’t be ruled out entirely.

If that was what just occurred, then the next question-- arguably the more important question-- was why , but as Ingo had already said, there wasn’t any way to know. The Pokemon was already gone. If it was as powerful as the aura surrounding it suggested, then it wasn’t acting on a human’s orders, which at least eliminated retaliation, but introduced an entire host of unsettling possibilities.

The hush that settled over the station broke, bit by bit, and first Furze rushed up, then members of the public worried on their behalf. With a glance to ensure that his twin had situated himself accordingly, Emmet pulled the both of them upright and then backed off, deferring to Ingo insofar as a resolution went.

...even though the Pokemon was gone, perhaps there was something to be gained from reviewing the security footage. Always an invaluable resource, that.