Chapter Text
Something is wrong .
Was the first thing that passed through Ingo’s mind as he looked around, his body alert, senses tingling, arm reaching behind his head to grab onto the handle of his blade that lay hidden under his coat. His eyes were darting from all doors and windows inside the current cart he was in, his voice loud enough to cut through idle chatter of the passengers. “Everyone, I must ask you to quiet down and lower yourselves below line of sight of all doors and windows!”
His command made all voices die as the meaning sunk in. The hush that followed became tense and foreboding, sudden dreaded pressure making all passengers feeling far less safe than they did before. The realization of the situation hitting them all as silence greeted them.
Their conductor asked them to be quiet, there was danger close.
Ingo slowly walked down the train car, his steps silent as he checked the passengers and all possible entrances. Motioning for passengers that were frozen in fear or were slower to react to move down or away from the doors and windows. It was only when he got to the front of the cart that he heard it, the first sounds of the incoming danger.
It was the unscheduled movement of train, the screeching of the wheels as the train made a sudden detour from the path they were on. Ingo gasped as he rushed to one of the windows to see what was happening, only to grimace when he noticed the train moving away from their usual route to one far less used. A route that would head right outside their region grounds, out of bounds for backup besides a selected few. None that would be close if they were to cross those invisible lines.
This was bad.
If they leave the Unova region then they would head straight into the wastelands and risks facing the horrid creatures that were the waste beasts or the fiendish out-
Hard stomps banged over everyone’s heads making many gasp and shout in fear as quick steps hurried towards the back and to the sides of the cart.
“ Outcasts!!” Someone cried, horror in their voice as others gasped and dropped to the floor. Many shadows dancing through the windows, merging into one another as they moved in different directions. Making it impossible to tell how many there are or where each was going besides the tell-tale signs of their thunderously loud feet.
Ingo had enough of this, this is going to get out of hand real quick. As cladded feet slammed against the windows and doors of the cart he was currently protecting, Ingo fully pulled out the rest of his katana, bringing along the sheath with it. His yell drowned everything else out as he called for his passengers. “Everyone get down on the ground, protect your children and stay down. I will handle these invaders.”
As passengers threw themselves to the floor of the train cart, Ingo pulled his black mask down briefly. Allowing the black mist that made up his life source seep out of his mouth, already swirling and wisping towards his sheathed sword. The aura danced around the sheath before fusing into it, transforming the butt of the sheath to extend and bend to his will, his mind already providing the shape desired with ease from practice and sheer will.
He now held a long scythe in his hand, one hand on the handle while the other held the base of what was once a sheath.
Putting his mask back up to avoid wasting anymore aura, his eyes make eye contact with the first of many outcasts he was going to face today.
It was easy to find out who was targeting them, the matching patches stitched onto the outlanders’ masks and outfits all showing the same emblem:
A face of a demon, large fangs and a long split tongue to show off its inhumaneness.
They were being raided by the Demon Troupe.
“Aw, well look at that, the dove even came to greet us!” One of the Demon Troupe’s grunts slurred through their mask, teasing tone heavy in their voice. “So excited to see us? Well, you better be, this is your last day on this train, after all.”
Ingo stepped up, pulling his arm back to ready a hard swing from his scythe. “None of you have a ticket, I must ask you to disembark before I use force.” His tone was calm and even yet held a chill of coldness. He didn’t like others threatening his dear train and its passengers.
A couple of outlanders started to laugh while others were already tenseing, getting ready for the inevitable battle.
“Nah, we got a ticket, dove, don’t you see?” The outlander first to speak continued on with confident ease. “Our ticket’s right
here
.” With that last word they swung their weapon at Ingo, aiming for his legs in an attempt to unbalance him.
The rest of the troupe seemed to take that as their cue to strike, the masses of them already speed walking to where the passengers were cowering and hiding.
Ingo lunged, thrusting his arm forward to slash at the intruders, grateful that all passengers were on the ground and out of range from the large attack. Which did knock every outcast that approached him off their feet and sent flying back into their comrades behind them. The black cladded conductor already seeing many different colors of aura seeping out of the wounds of the injured demon grunts that now took up most of the walkway.
-
While the majority of his troupe were spreading through the passengers carts, the White Demon, leader of the Demon Troupe himself, was circling the conductors cart with a wide smile on his face, only the closest of his comrades with him.
“So this is the Kudanobo train,” he said wistfully. “What a magnificent beast. Verrrry magnificent, yup. It’ll be perfect.”
He had been planning this ambush for a good half a year now. It had taken quite some research to figure out which train would be the best for their purposes, which routes it would take, how to reroute it and where the most ideal spot was to stop it entirely.
“In. Come on,” he said to his handful of subordinates, before marching into the cart.
He was greeted by a couple of depot agents, ready to defend the most vulnerable part of their train, while their conductor was off to take care of the grunts, as was customary for Unovan train lines. The conductor was their main line of defense, usually highly skilled in combat.
It made creating a diversion and getting to the control panel easy. That’s what you get when you prioritize passengers over the train.
The White Demon let his aura slide out of his throat and into his gloves, the energy of the white aura enhancing the plating until they formed rough, studded brass knuckles.
The depot agents tensed, whether it was from recognition of the White Demon, or the display of someone confident enough to waltz in unmasked, his aura unguarded. Or perhaps the shock stemmed from something different altogether, something neither the White Demon nor his subordinates were aware of.
It didn’t matter either way. He did quick work of them, knocking out three of the depot agents himself, while his subordinates took over the other two. With a foot on one of the unconscious depot agent’s chest, keeping them to the ground, he leaned down low enough to be able to coax that misty aura out of his opponents throat, breathing it in and welcoming the newfound strength in it. Even if it was an insignificant amount by now, it’d still amount for something . He repeated the process with the other depot agents he took out, leaving the last two up for his subordinates to share, while he finally made his way to the control room.
It was locked, of course it was, the key card dangling by the belt of this train’s conductor, or wherever they would keep it. It didn’t matter, though. The train had an override code for emergencies, and while he didn’t know what this code was, the program his second in command had written up would help him find and exploit said code.
The white demon knelt by the door, attaching the doodad to the lock as he let it do its magic. Now it was just a matter of time.
-
The demon grunts grossly underestimated the strength the conductor possessed, soon enough the fight was more about trying to overwhelm Ingo than about actual skill in defeating him. The black clad conductor flicking and throwing them off the train with ease, the only issue was the sheer amount of grunts that were attacking him at once.
It couldn’t be helped, Ingo preferred to not use his aura to fight but it seemed he will need its aid to keep up with safety protocols.
A white gloved hand quickly went up to grab his mask, quickly pulling it out of the way and shoving it into one of his coat pocket. The black mist already seeping out with every exhale he took, the aura making its way into the train itself from the very corners of the cart to the furniture built within. Ingo had spent to much time in this train not to become compatible with it.
With little movement from his part he controlled every inch of the cart like it was an extension of himself. He could feel every foot that took a step, he could feel the shift of everyone’s body weight against any surface like it was his very body. Every time he did this he wished to marvel at how he was one with his precious Kudanobo, but now was not the time. Now was a time to protect his passengers and the train itself.
On his command he forced all the doors and windows to open as wide as they could, the railings and support beams from the benches and handle bars moving to wrap around a few demon grunts like they had a mind of its own. With a grunt Ingo threw out five grunts out of the closest exits, every wave of grunts that was captured and thrown out was given parting words from the conductor himself.
“THIS IS YOUR LAST STOP!”
“GET OUT!”
“AWAY YOU GO!”
“GOODBYE!”
“YEEEET!”
Between fighting a force like Ingo and now even the entirety of the god damn train
itself
fighting back, it was hard to focus on trivialities such as faces. So it took them a good while until one of the grunts finally stopped in their tracks, having to take a double take as they took in Ingo’s face.
A face that looked so identical to their boss’.
Their boss that, according to more senior Demon Troupe grunts, had been looking for his twin a good century ago.
Their moment of hesitation, even if it was only a matter of seconds, was enough to get themselves thrown off the train, but it didn’t matter. They made their way to the tip of the train instead, barging into their two higher-ups guarding the conductors cart.
“Boss!” He called past them. “Boss, I have urgent news.”
The White Demon looked up with a hint of annoyance, although the ever present smile on his face did not fade. Alas, that didn’t make him any less annoyed at the fact that one of his grunts had apparently decided to
derail off their plans
he had so meticulously thought out.
“This better be important,” he said as he got up from his spot next to the lock, the doodad still working on hacking it, every so often requesting specific inputs from him.
“It is! I mean- I- I
hope
it is. A-Are you still looking for your twin?”
The White Demon’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“The conductor! He-! He looks like you!
Identically
like you, same face, same hair, same- ah. Well. Y-Your voice, but very loud?”
This time his eyes widened, going wild even. His
twin?
It
had
to be his twin, the grunt had said that he looked identical to him, sounded identical to him, who
else
could it be than his twin?
And yet the White Demon knew in his gut that it couldn’t be. His twin was dead. His twin
had
to be dead. He was much older than any regular human could have possibly grown, having long given up his humanly mortality for power.
It didn’t matter. There was no possible way he could sit here and wait for some tiny technical robot to unlock a god damn door while there was a man out there looking and sounding exactly like him.
“Take care of this,” he instructed the grunt in question, giving his two subordinated a nod to let them in, while the White Demon himself left the conductors cart quickly. “I will be back.”
The masses of grunts practically split in half the second they saw their boss, dispersing to make way for him. No one knew why he was here. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Did this mean they had succeeded? Or did this mean they had failed bad enough that the White Demon himself was coming to take matters into his own hands?
Most of the grunts moved away or retreated from their attack once they saw their boss enter the cart that the conductor occupied, heading straight for the official himself. All but one, a large and buff looking grunt raised his hammer in ready to slam onto Ingo, the strength and weight alone of the hammer would have definitely been enough to crush some bones.
The hammer wielding man didn’t have a chance to swing it down, metal bars wrapping around the his arms, legs and weapon to slow him down. It wasn’t enough to stop him but it was just the opening Ingo needed to dash forward and deliver several hard hitting punches to the large man’s chest and stomach. Even with toned muscles and fat it wasn’t enough to protect him from the brute force that was the train conductor.
With a pained grunt, the man would have fallen to his feet if Ingo didn’t lift him up with the train’s help. Grabbing the large feet, Ingo started to spin around to gain momentum as the side of the cart started to whine from the movement of metal, plastic, wires and glass. The cart started to open up a bigger hole than any door or window could provide, forcing the window frames and benches to the side to allow space for it’s conductor to throw the grunt out of the hole with so much force that he became a blur. A human bullet.
“THANK YOU FOR RIDING WITH UNOVA STEAM LINES, PLEASE DO NOT COME AGAIN!”
Ingo would have grinned if his face allowed it, instead his face made a deep scowl as he nodded after the brute of an outcast. Feeling satisfied as the train repaired itself and closed off the hideous looking hole with his aid. The satisfaction didn’t last sadly as he noticed that there was no more grunts trying their luck.
Confused and alarmed, he looked around at the grunts that were still present yet preferring to idle to the far corners of the cart, far away from him. They didn’t seem to be wanting to leave either, body tense and eyes trained on him like he was a piece of meat.
This did not look good. What was happening?
He got his answer when he turned around only to lock eyes with a face he only saw in a mirror. His face.
What?
The White Demon’s heart was racing in his chest, his smile threatening to split his face. It was him. It had to be him. His face, staring right back, the confusion looking almost identical to his own, the only difference being a frown on this man’s face.
And that strength . It didn’t escape the Troupe’s boss with what immense strength and power the conductor before him had taken care of one of his strongest men, flicked him away like a fly on his lunch. A strength that seemed so familiar to his own inhumane strength, albeit more… restrained. Like the conductor before him has yet to discover his full potential.
He took a deep breath, faint residue of black aura seeping into his lungs, scratching the faintest senses of euphoria.
“I am Emmet,” he finally said as he came closer to Ingo, his march excited, but slowed, arms behind his back. “I am the White Demon. It is verrrry nice to meet you.”
The black cladded conductor took a deep breath as he faced the white doppelganger, his face shifting to a more guarded and stone faced look. He raised his scythe slightly, body ready for an attack. “State your intentions.”
Was this an ability one of the outcast’s had? To mirror someone’s face? Ingo never heard of such power, the mear idea making him feel the pit of his stomach drop with dread. “Do not come any closer.”
The White Demon, Emmet, stopped for a second. He debated on how to approach this topic, humming softly as one finger tapped his chin.
“Say, nameless conductor. Have you ever had a sibling, by any chance?”
Ingo said nothing at first, his silver eyes boring holes into matching sets of silver eyes, frown deepening. “No, I do not. I fail to see how this relates to your attack on my train.”
“I have a twin,” Emmet continued, ignoring the latter part of the other’s response. “I believed him to be dead.”
“My condolences,” Ingo nodded automatically to his mirror imagine before continuing. “But I insist that you call off your attack. Violence is prohibited and force ejection will be used.”
“No need for condolences,” Emmet was getting closer again, his posture non-aggressive, his steps slow but wide. “I have reason to believe he’s alive after all. Say, have you ever heard of the bond some lucky twins share?”
Ingo shakes his head, his weapons lifting higher to form somewhat of a shield to prevent the other from getting any closer to his personal space. “I have not, now please stop ignoring my words. I am the conductor of this fine train and I will not allow any delays on my watch.”
“Are you certain?” Emmets voice was a drawl, leaning ever so close without getting too close to cut himself on the deadly blade. “I have reason to believe you might want to hear what I have to say.”
“I have reason to believe you would want to heed my warnings before you soon follow your subordinates.” Ingo’s eyes glances to the area the cart had opened up to allow the grunt he had recently thrown out before going back to meet Emmet’s. “You still have not clarified your intentions, any further attempts to derail from the question will lead to force.”
He was the conductor, he had to keep the order. Everyone was counting on him…
“Oh? I don’t think you want to do that,” Emmet advised with a little tut in his voice. He put one finger of his white gloves between his teeth, pulling it off smoothly, before swiftly dragging his palm over the blade of his doppelgänger’s weapon of choice.
A brow raised, gauging Ingo for his reaction.
Emmet was about to be faced with the backside of the scythe if it wasn’t for an unknown pain in Ingo’s hand. Confused and having his patience dwindling with every second his question was left unanswered and his passengers out of sight. He looks at his hand to see blood staining his own white glove, spreading from his palm to the base of the fingers and little dripples rolling down his arm.
He looked back at the White Demon and frowned, his eyes fierce and hard as he moved his weapon to have the dull side of the blade pressed into Emmet’s chest. Forcing the other to be thrown a few feet, reflexes and skill the only reason Emmet didn’t fall on his butt. “You have failed to answer my question, prepare to disembark from Kudonobo.”
He lowers his stance, scythe swinging behind him to prepare for a strike.
Emmet smirked, ready to dodge any oncoming attacks, but he wasn’t done yet.
“So you’ve no interest in finding the reason for those mysterious wounds you’ve gotten all your life?”
“I do not indulge in games, I have a job to do. Any trickery is meaningless. I will not ask you my question again!” Ingo lunges forward, metal whined as they slither towards the leader of outcasts to block an escape.
Emmet dodged the attack enough to escape the blade, but incidentally ending up pinned close quarters between a network of deformed metal and the black cladded conductor himself, their bodies close enough to touch.
He sucked in a sharp breath as sensations unknown to him crashed over his whole being, a sense of euphoria, thrill, excitement, belonging.
Emmet’s smile became unhinged, eyes wide.
Ingo had grabbed onto Emmet’s shoulder, was in the middle of shifting his body weight to accommodate for the effort we would have to do to throw the White demon out the window but was stopped when their bodies touched. The wind being punched out of him with only a single touch. His body going limp, making him tilt towards the white cladded twin and onto his chest. His hold on the train went lax, making the extensions that held Emmet down go still, the force that was Ingo’s aura no longer putting power behind its movements.
A gasp escaped the conductor’s lips as his body melted into the other like it was the softest bed he ever laid in, the feeling of ecstasy overtaking his senses as more body parts pressed into the body that drove him into a world of bliss.
With the other now in Emmet’s arm, the White Demon couldn’t help but to let his breathing fall into a heavy pant, his mind nearly fogging up with the sensations overcoming him.
No. He couldn’t lose focus. Couldn’t forget his goal.
“Sometimes,” he began, his voice hoarse and breathy, “verrrry rarely, twins are born with a special bond.”
Emmet remembered the time a wise traveler crossed his path. She had noticed the mysterious wounds on Emmet nearly immediately, recognizing the nearly fantastical phenomenon from their own personal experience. She had told him, back then, about the bond special twins shared.
“And we have a very special bond. Yep.
Verrry
special.”
Seventy years. Seventy years Emmet had spent looking for his twin, only stopping when he had reached the ripe age of ninety-eight, when he had finally given in to the thought that either his twin was dead, or if he miraculously had survived this harsh world to such an old age, was going to die any day now.
And yet, another good thirty years later, here he was. His twin. Unmistakably so.
“My dearest twin brother.”
Ingo’s eyes widen as the arms around him tighten, his heart seized for a moment. Like someone held his heart and squeezed it just enough to stop the blood flow, the feeling spreading from his chest both searing hot yet also chillfully cold. The White Demon’s words causing ripples of complicated feelings to overtake the train conductor’s body and mind.
How did this man have so much power over him?
His touch alone was enough to turn Ingo into putty, but his soft murmuring in his ear claiming Ingo to be his. His twin brother that he uttered like it was sweet like honey in his mouth even when his tone had not changed. Like it was the most precious and most dearest thing to the outcast leader.
Him.
Ingo.
But how could that be?