A lesser known function of most battle facilities was that they acted as something of an advanced trainer school.

In return for battling on the facility’s behalf, those patrons would gain access to whatever educational materials that facility provided so that they could hone their own abilities, too. The Battle Subway in particular-- unique among its ilk in its central location-- saw a great deal of interest in this service; as it was inherently a part of public transportation, it was easy to reach and a feasible battle avenue for those who couldn’t leave their lives to go adventuring for weeks at a time.

The high volume of interest meant that they needed to be a bit selective, but the test that prospective subway trainers were meant to take was a simple one, confirming that they already knew the basics of Pokemon battling. It consisted of questions pertaining to type match ups, status ailments and buffs, general battle guidelines, and a write-in question asking the client why they had chosen the Battle Subway. If a person failed, they were always welcome to study up and take it again. If they passed, they would select their preferred battle format and take a further assessment for what difficulty level best suited them: the standard course or super course.

Those benefits trainers saw from volunteering their time and skill were many and varied, from the ability to network with other, local trainers in their skill bracket, to a number of curated study materials for onsite use, or the occasional opportunity to virtually attend live seminars hosted regions away. Depending on how well the staff got to know a trainer, they might even find some extra advice when they needed it.

Slowly, quietly, Ingo backed away from the door he’d cracked open and eased it shut. His intention had been to slip into the archive and pull a lecture on dark types from the shelves; Leron, a regular, had suggested in passing that it had become slightly outdated-- particularly in regards to an underlying bias against Absol-- and while that wouldn’t strike it from availability entirely, it could stand to be reviewed and potentially replaced. Their little cache of information was only accessible through the study room, though, which had proven to be occupied.

Jillian had been diligent in the strategy she was trying to hone between her Munna and Darumaka, and Ingo wasn’t about to interrupt her when she had finally sought assistance.

It was a heartwarming compromise: someone who stubbornly insisted that she could figure it out on her own accepting remote help from someone who had similarly insisted the doctor was wrong, actually, and he could definitely come into work before his mandatory leave ended.

Yes, to an extent, Ingo hadn’t wanted to interrupt because it would be terribly rude to intrude upon someone’s conversation-- even if it was just to move through the space briefly-- but his reluctance was also due in part to the fact that he didn’t want to draw Emmet’s attention. He would get an earful about telecommuting later, he was sure, and it wasn’t a line of thought he was eager to board early.

Maybe it could be lessened if he brought food home on the way back.

Today’s had been a slow afternoon, likely brought on due to the fact that neither battle line had been open for the morning time slot, and the only active battle train at the moment was the Super Single Line. That wasn’t to say there hadn’t been several skilled opponents coming through-- just that it was a good time to catch up on behind-the-scenes work. Since the client request couldn’t be attended to immediately, he defaulted to next item on his agenda.

After weeks of feeling run-down, it was nice to have a little energy back, and Ingo wasn’t sure he’d ever been so enthusiastic about helping conduct routine maintenance. Certainly he’d never begrudged it-- letting anything so important go by the wayside was unforgivably negligent-- but had he ever looked forward to assessing minor tunnel damage? His only complaint was that he wished he’d had company. With Emmet out recovering from his ligation and everyone diligently attending to their usual duties, Ingo was alone in this task -- or as alone as he could feasibly be right now, which, contrarily, was somewhat less alone than he might have hoped.

His late start today had been due to a morning appointment, specifically a routine ultrasound. Save for one glaring omission, everything had screened as perfectly normal, and even that exception wasn’t anything the tech had been concerned over; she had been gratingly cheerful in her excitement to report that he was expecting twins of his own.

He’d half expected that, but the confirmation was… Ingo didn’t know what it was. ‘Disappointing’ sounded terrible, but he hadn’t wanted to carry a child, let alone two. Perhaps ‘daunting’ was a better word for it.

‘Scary’ might have been even better.

He shook the thought-- and the barrage of tiny, needling questions it brought with it-- off and returned to the infinitely less intimidating tunnel. Sensors indicated some manner of seismic activity had shaken this section recently, and due to the localized nature of it and the lack of any official records, that likely meant a Pokemon had a hand in things. There had been no indication that the power was affected, but the further into it he ventured, the darker it became, the evenly-spaced lights winking out one by one.

Unbothered, he retrieved the flashlight from his kit, flicked it on, and continued well past the point the other lights could reach.

Right before the tunnel curved, he caught sight of an irregularity in the wall, and beyond that…

A hand dropped to his pokeballs and he unfastened Chandelure’s in anticipation. Aiming the beam down, he softened the crunch of footsteps on the gravel that lined the tunnels and crept nearer, swallowing back against the insistent tug of bad, wrong somewhere in the vicinity of his twins. If he got a clear enough look to determine it wasn’t something he could handle on his own, he’d retreat and seek assistance, but he was a Subway Boss for a reason. It was his job to ensure the safety of those riding the rails because he could guarantee it.

Moving at a Slugma’s pace, he silently switched the flashlight off, opting to keep Chandelure at the ready instead. She would provide a better ambient light source and, until released, wouldn’t give his position away.

Where the tunnel bent, a pair of luminous red eyes turned upon Ingo and he felt something graze his arm; immediately, he sent his partner out, right before the probing touch turned into something more constricting. A glint of gold shone in the new light, contrasting harshly against Chandelure’s violet flames, and she shrieked her outrage as she followed the inky line from it to her trainer.

At the same time that she used Psychic in an attempt to tear it away, another grasped his ankle, rooting him in place, and he made a decision. The Pokemon was beyond the radius of Chandelure’s light, too obscured to make out anything beyond the occasional golden flash and the impression of stripes; it might prove wasteful if the types didn’t match up, but preparation for a day on the super circuit meant that Chandelure was well equipped, so it wouldn’t impair her if she used--

“Overheat!” He called, throwing forward the arm wrapped in a coil of darkness, and she complied without delay. The attack framed the tunnel in startling relief, if only for a few seconds, highlighting the rubble that lay beyond what he’d seen at the curve and--

Oh.

That was--

Bad.

Under the overwhelming onslaught of a full-power Overheat, the shadowy limbs loosened marginally, giving Ingo enough leverage to try pulling away while Chandelure consumed her white herb, restoring the power she’d exerted in her attack.

Yet another serpentine limb raised, this time in opposition, raking its ghastly claws against Chandelure.

Overheat had left its mark, but their aggressor was far from downed; while a second use of it at full capacity would cover a great deal of ground, it would leave Chandelure’s abilities reduced and the ghost herself open to another Shadow Claw. One hand wrapping around the tendril on his arm as he tried to yank it away, Ingo called, “Use Hex!”

This was… bad, yes, but not unworkable. Not unwinnable. Ghost-on-ghost battles were tricky, but well within Ingo’s area of experience.

The presence of a Cofagrigus in the tunnels didn’t mean anything good, but that was to be addressed after it had been neutralized. In the past, he would have tackled its high defenses with Will-o-Wisp and a follow up Hex, but they’d been workshopping new match ups in the multi circuits, and the former move wasn’t currently within her readied arsenal.

Hand tightening on the shadowy arm that clutched at him, he decided that if he couldn’t neutralize its defense, he’d simply take advantage of one of its weaknesses. “Protect yourself and use Hex-- then prepare to attack again, immediately!”

And, as she lit up from within, projecting a defensive hemisphere, he dug his heels in and pulled at the Cofagrigus’s arms. He didn’t know which limbs were holding onto him, but he already had half of its available hands; if he could inconvenience it in the slightest, reduce its already abysmal speed to the point where Chandelure might be able to get a second hit in early, they could bring this battle to a swift close.

The hand attached to the coiling arm contorted when Hex hit home, sharpening in preparation as each one channeled another Shadow Claw, incensed by its last attack bouncing off. With the Pokemon’s attention on Chandelure, these two grasped blindly at anything within reach, and while the one atop was unable to tear at at Ingo’s face, the hand on his leg bit in through fabric. He retaliated, pulling his arm back and yanking down on the topmost limb, and while it was difficult to budge the second without risking his balance, he saw his efforts pay off as the ghost wobbled, distracting it from the flow of battle.

Without needing to be told twice, Chandelure made use of the window she’d been given and leveled her second maximum-strength Overheat at it, leaving it no choice but to fall heavily to the ground, out cold. The tethers still anchored onto his person meant that, as it toppled backwards, it dragged Ingo several paces forward-- he half-hopped half-stumbled nearer, trying his best not to follow suit and land face-down in the gravel.

Chandelure was at his side in an instant, helping to keep him steady and unwinding his leg while he focused on his arm. The release in pressure ached, and it would almost certainly leave a winding bruise around the limb, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle; his ankle would have to wait for a proper inspection, but it held his weight when he experimentally righted himself, so he would work under the assumption that it had been nicked and nothing worse.

“Bravo!” He breathed, cradling her globe appreciatively, “Wonderful work, flue. Where would I be without you?”

She pushed past his hands to nuzzle against his cheek and, once she was satisfied that her trainer was unhurt, continued with her safety checks, bumping insistently against his middle.

There was no way they could have been harmed, was there? While the species was capable of sapping life force, if it was hungry, a Cofagrigus’s only recourse was to trap its prey inside itself; there was no research indicating that it might be capable of siphoning energy through its hands. Even if it could, it hadn’t. He felt perfectly fine, minus a few cuts and bruises-- and he was relatively certain that the fact the Cofagrigus hadn’t been smited indicated there wasn’t a miscarriage in his future.

Just to get an expert opinion, though, he asked, “What do you think? Is everyone in their assigned seating?”

She trilled, satisfied, and finally moved away, taking up guard next to the unconscious interloper.

Despite his misgivings, Ingo was glad they hadn’t been hurt. He was a Subway Boss and they’d been entrusted in his care; now that they were along for the ride, he could do no less than ensure they made it safely to their destination.

Perhaps, said a traitorous part of himself, that was precisely why he’d been given this task: because they needed to be protected, and he’d proven capable.