Telecommunications were something neither Ingo nor Emmet had any problems with; a not insubstantial part of their workday depended on staff radioing in or cooperating with other stations via Xtransceiver. While it could be difficult to be entirely understood without in-person cues-- for them in particular-- they knew how to compensate and keep communication flowing freely.

There were, however, some calls that remained nerve wracking, this being one of them.

They’d gone back and forth for some time debating the merits of it-- whether to tell anyone what was going on when they were still so uncertain, themselves, if there was any point to it when their hands were seemingly tied, so on and so forth. In the end, the conclusion had been that if anyone in their immediate circle could help, Drayden stood a better chance than the others.

It felt a little bit like running to their father figure because their sometimes-rough play had broken an important toy, and they were pleading for him to make it better… but that wasn’t exactly a negative comparison. He’d always made a point of that much: if they were ever in trouble, they were to come to him.

Their mom might have been a little miffed if she ever found out, but there was yet a possibility that she would never know about any of this.

Ingo’s Xtransceiver, still idle upon the first ring, reflected the both of them and, in unison, they glanced to one another. They’d timed this carefully, before Drayden would have returned home for the evening, but after business hours; it would have been polite to set something up in advance, but they’d only decided for certain that afternoon, and waiting any longer than need be seemed ill-advised.

Midway through the second ring, Drayden picked up.

“Good evening, boys. The station’s been treating you well, I hope?” Though near-invisible through his beard, the twitch of a makeshift smile was there as either of them gave a shallow salute in lieu of a greeting.

“Operations are running as smoothly as ever,” Ingo said, choosing to focus on the former aspect rather than the latter, “We recognize that this is rather last minute, but would you be available to meet this evening? A… delicate situation has developed, and your advice would be greatly appreciated.”

Their uncle’s brows furrowed and, with an intensity that only he could manage through such a mundane gesture, he slowly inclined his head, “I can make time. Should I try to catch the 6:15 to Nimbasa, or would you prefer to come this way?”

He didn’t look, but Ingo could feel Emmet pivot to assess the disaster that was once their kitchen table. Surely they would be able to put it in some semblance of order and transport it…?

It was wishful thinking, and upon second thought, he realized that. Fortunately, he had Emmet there to be more realistic about the situation. “You will have to come here. Sorry.”

“It’s no trouble. Are you both alright? You seem tense.”

Usually, Ingo didn’t have to worry too much about moderating his expressions, but facing their uncle, he made the effort to suppress an instinctive grimace, “There’s little point in addressing the matter ahead of time, but rest assured that no one is in any danger.”

It wasn’t what he’d asked, and Drayden obviously caught onto that fact, but he let it slide-- presumably because he’d get full context within the hour. The fact that they’d approached him to begin with spoke volumes, and he knew them well enough to recognize it.

“Alright. I’ll conclude my business and be on the next train. If anything else ‘develops’, call me at once.” He said, and with a round of parting nods, concluded the call.

There was a brief lull after the disconnect, broken when Emmet said, “That went verrrry well.”

“It did. I didn’t expect him to agree so readily.” Ingo dropped his arm to fold both over his chest, turning in full to consider the matter of their scattered research.

“Why wouldn’t he? He made us promise to ask for help. We asked for help.”

“Yes, but he was always quite adamant about resolving problems for ourselves. I thought we would at least need to explain that we’d made some effort to see the matter through.”

“Oh.” Emmet said, and moved several folders off of a chair. “That again.”

“My apologies, but I don’t follow.”

He rolled his eyes and waved the comment off, “Later. You yourself said there’s no point right now. Other things to focus on.”

“That isn’t the same at all.” But Emmet refused to acknowledge it. Resigned to being left in the dark for the time being, Ingo busied himself in clearing a spot on the table without disrupting their major points of interest.

By the time a knocking sounded at the door, the table was nearly presentable.

On the far side of the living room, Haxorus wagged her tail, clearly recognizing what the sound meant; it was a little uncanny how exactly the thud matched that firm knock. She was already on her feet and eagerly shuffling forward as Ingo crossed the space to answer it, held back from their guest only by her hard-earned manners and the human arm she could easily push past.

When her training held-- not that there was any doubt it would-- Drayden caved and reached out to scratch behind one of her axes, only passing the threshold once that toll had been paid.

“Thank you for making the commute on such short notice.” Ingo said, closing the door behind them and giving Haxorus a pat on an armored shoulder blade, which was all the encouragement she needed to go cozy up to her favorite non-conductor human. Drayden barely seemed to notice it, moving automatically to accommodate the five foot dragon barging into his space.

“I wouldn’t do anything less,” He said, looking from one brother to the other, as if proximity alone might help him divine what was coming, “Now tell me what this is all about.”

Inclining his head, Ingo led the way to the kitchen-- perhaps it would be a slightly awkward place to have this conversation, but it would be the best in terms of practicality. The entire situation was… absurd, and they would need their sources available to cite.

Drayden, however, paused at the sight. “If the ‘developing situation’ is a subway renovation, I’m not sure I can help.”

“It’s not.” Emmet said, followed shortly by, “I wish it was. Would you like a drink?”

“I’m alright, thank you.”

Emmet shrugged and, relieved of that aspect of hosting, circled around to take up his spot next to Ingo.

Drayden studied the both of them carefully and immediately went for the jugular, “Now what, exactly, is this about?”

Ingo knew it would be harder to vocalize now than that first signed admission, but it wasn’t exactly fair to make that comparison. He’d known, then, that whatever Emmet’s response might have been, they would return home at the end of the day and things would be… manageable. Maybe they’d been scolded by a being beyond comprehension, and maybe they’d ended up crashing on the couch after hours of frantic investigation, but they’d still gotten up the next day and done their jobs. It had been a miserable shift, but that was somewhat true for every one Ingo had worked since the morning sickness reared its head.

Drayden… wasn’t an unknown, but he was far harder to predict than the person one lived side-by-side with. While he would almost certainly support them when it came down to it, there was no telling how they’d arrive at that station.

But, emboldened by the tacit support of his twin at his side, Ingo braced himself and got it over with.

“I’ve recently discovered that I’m, ah, expecting. A child.”

It was followed by a very loud silence.

Drayden closed his eyes and took a deep breath, voice rumbling in a very specific way when he finally did speak up. “Who hurt you?”

“Who?” Emmet asked, forgetting that the context was still lacking.

“Hurt?” Ingo echoed, equally baffled.

While it was neither of their intention, both subconsciously tilted their head toward the other, like a pair of confused Lillipups. Oftentimes, it made Drayden snort. Right now, it did no such thing.

He opened his eyes again, looking them over with the ferocity of a Druddigon sizing up a threat to its den, “Were you able to get a good look at them? I’m sorry to ask, but it’s important.”

The angle of Emmet’s tilt increased, but Ingo realized what was going on just before the miscommunication could carry any further. As his brother guilelessly said, “There’s the secur--” he circled an arm around and pressed a hand to Emmet’s mouth.

“It’s nothing like you’re imagining; to the best of my knowledge, I wasn’t assaulted. What happened is… much more unorthodox.” With the moment past, he released his twin and gestured mildly to the table, “That’s precisely why we need your help: our understanding right now is that the situation was caused by a Pokemon of some import.”

“That’s...” Drayden’s brows furrowed and, instead of hazarding what it was, he shook his head, “Please explain. I’m afraid you’ve lost me.”

Emmet clapped once, drawing his attention and moving to sit, thus prompting their guest to do the same. It wasn’t because he particularly wanted to take the lead, but because he’d been the one to to look into the ‘Bastard Teleporting Pokemon’ when it had been news, and was slightly more familiar with the subject.

“An unknown Pokemon appeared in Gear Station’s main thoroughfare on June 23^rd.” He said, shuffling through papers until he found the screenshot he was looking for. It wasn’t any clearer than it had been at first glance over the monitors, but it had been traced over to help define the symbol ringing its head. Whether or not that was any help at this point in time was up for debate. They had an unaltered one too, just in case. “We were called in to resolve the issue it presented. It vanished shortly after our arrival, without a fuss. As it did so, it also teleported Ingo several feet into the air.”

Arms folded over his chest, making a point not to disrupt any of the piles on the table, Drayden tilted his head forward, watching intensely, “What makes you believe it has any connection to this?”

“That’s because the timeline matches. A blood test won’t return a positive result until at least five weeks have passed, and I wasn’t doing anything else in that time frame that could have resulted in conception.” Ingo said, only taking his own seat now that everyone else had been situated.

“We want to know what it is.” Emmet went on, picking the thread up without missing a beat, “Sinnoh natives believe it is the deity their region is named for. ‘Almighty Sinnoh’. There is a good possibility they are correct. However, we have also narrowed Xerneas down as another possibility. Sinnoh is a deity of creation. Xerneas has power over life. Both fit.”

While he didn’t look convinced, Drayden wasn’t arguing that it was impossible. That was something, at least. “What exactly do you plan to do with that information? It’s perfectly reasonable to want to understand why this might have happened, but this seems...” He paused, looking at the small sea of paperwork, “Very thorough.”

“Thank you.” Emmet said, “It’s the foundation for a plan of attack.”

“No, it’s not.” Ingo sighed, less than eager to have this conversation again, this time with an audience.

“I need to know its weak spots. Xerneas is said to be fairy type. I can counter that. There is no such data on Almighty Sinnoh.”

Ingo spent a second staring at his twin, disapproving, before turning back to Drayden. “The actual reason we would like to know is because that might explain the other odd phenomena we’ve noticed. If we understand the rules at play, maybe we could find a roundabout and put an end to this before it coasts any further.”

“That was another question I’d had,” Drayden conceded, willing to move on from that last point for the time being, but also reluctant to take his eyes off of Emmet entirely after his declaration, “Surely you’ve considered abortion as a--”

Both because it had been clear where he was going and due to previous experimentation, both of the twins were prepared for the shockwave that filled the air. It wasn’t any more pleasant the seventh time, but it didn’t come as a surprise. Drayden, unfortunately, had no such luxury.

Unlike either of their initial responses-- which had mostly consisted of nearly falling out of their seats at this very table-- Drayden had leaned into the ‘fight’ in ‘fight or flight’, hands gripping the table’s edge so hard that the fabric over his knuckles creaked, shoulders held to attack if and when needed. While rattled, his composure was enviable.

Once it was possible to draw a full breath again, Ingo used that ability to say, “We’ve discussed the possibility, of course, but that’s happened every time someone broaches the subject.”

“It confirms three facts: the Pokemon is aware of what it caused. It does not want us to interfere. It was verrrry likely intentional.” On the last point, Emmet’s expression faded from business-like into that of plain contempt, “It knowingly caused harm. That is why I will battle and unseat it as a legendary Pokemon.”

“Xerneas and Sinnoh, you said?” Drayden asked, eyes narrowed in thought, and the fact that he didn’t respond to the doubling-down on the threat was… troubling. “Personally, I don’t have any insight into either of them, but I can get in contact with someone who might.”

“Thank you.” And it was, legitimately, very good news. There had been every possibility Drayden might walk away from this discussion thinking they’d lost their minds, and this was objectively a positive result. However… “But… precisely which plan are you backing?”

“They’re not mutually exclusive.” Emmet pointed out unhelpfully.

“We’re going to do our best to get you out of this situation first and foremost.” Drayden promised, “But what Emmet does with any information after the fact is his own business.”