Work Text:
Ingo slowly comes to consciousness as he opens his eyes. The first thing he sees is complete darkness, and the first thing he feels is the cold hard surface he's lying on, as well as an unpleasant smell and the moisture in the still air. The darkness is so thick, it’s blinding, and the dead silence makes him hear ringing in his ears. His whole body aches as he pushes himself up with a quiet grunt, and tries to take a look around. There's no light sources anywhere, and it takes his eyes to adjust to the darkness somewhat. It’s still hard to see everything, but Ingo can see that he is in what looks to be a prison cell, and he's lying on the cold and dirty concrete floor.
Ingo can't see that, but in a neighboring cell another person is sitting on the floor, in a corner. They can hear the man in the neighboring cell wake up and move around, but it’s not enough to catch their attention, and they remain motionless, as if the situation they are in is somehow normal for them. That’s not something that can be said about Ingo, however.
“What… Where am I?”
Ingo stands up and walks over to the cell bars, holding onto them and shaking them once or twice, yelling for attention. “Hello?! Is anyone out there?!”
“Don't shout like that, it's not going to help anyway...”
The voice from one of the neighboring cells can be heard, quiet and calm, confirming that someone else is indeed nearby. Ingo can't see the person in the cell just one concrete wall away, but walks over to the wall that connects the two cells and bangs on it once instead.
“HEY! Who put me here?! Why did they put me here?! Who are you?! Do you know who I am?! What the hell is going on?!” Ingo seems to be having a breakdown already, and is starting to panic. At least that is what can be said by how loud he is being already, after only just waking up.
“I told you, don't yell. You'll just bust my ear drums.”
The person says in the same calm voice, though now it sounds a bit annoyed. They slowly get up from the corner they’re sitting in, with a quiet sigh, as if each movement takes all of the energy they already don’t have much of, and walk over to the wall that separates their cell from the cell the man is in. They can hear him starting to panic, but they seem tired and unable to bring themselves to be too empathetic. “Panic won't help you. You'll just tire yourself out...”
“Well, what do you expect? I just woke up in a dark empty prison, with absolutely no memory of where I am or how I ended up in this situation. I don't know if I've been knocked out, or if something horrible happened to me. You would not believe the amount of stress I am going through right at the moment!”
Ingo takes a deep breath, and tries to calm himself down, realizing the moment the sentence leaves his mouth that he is being too emotional and mean to the person nearby. He slides down onto the floor, sitting on his butt with his back to the wall. Even though he just woke up, he feels incredibly weak, and there’s a considerable headache he is now realizing he has.
The person on the other side of the wall rolls their eyes, and Ingo doesn’t need to actually see them to know it.
“Not very considerable of you to say, considering I'm literally in a cell as well.” They say, and they still sound a little annoyed. They sigh and sit down on the floor again as well, now leaning their back on the other side of the concrete wall as well. They stare up at the dark ceiling, their gaze empty. “Even when I first woke up I wasn't that loud…”
“Oh, so you're judging me for freaking out a little here? How long have you been here? Do you know why we're in here, or why do I feel like I got hit over the head with a shovel?” Ingo's head is throbbing as he speaks. He brings a hand up to touch his head, feeling for any bumps or bruises. There are none, and the cause of the headache remains a mystery. The person on the other side of the wall sighs quietly.
“I don’t know about the shovel thing. If I had to guess, you were drugged or something. That's usually how they get the newbies, anyway.” They say calmly. Although the more Ingo listens, the more their voice sounds more like they have went through all stages of grief already, and have either entered acceptance, or got stuck somewhere in the depression stage.
“As for how long… I'd say I've been about three or four days here. Though it's hard to tell for sure, pardon for losing track of time in this situation.”
“Drugged…?”
Ingo ignores the slight irony in his conversation partner’s voice and tries to recall what happened before he woke up. He tries to remember something that could jog his memory at least, but all he can summon is a vision of his brother smiling at him that comes up without him even meaning to bring it up.
“Ugh… my head…” Ingo shakes his head and tries to focus, but still can't see anything except the pitch black around and the general silhouettes of the metal bars that make it clear he is in a holding cell. He sighs and just slumps back against the wall again, feeling incredibly dizzy now as well. “Wait… what do you mean by 'newbies'?”
“I mean exactly that - newbies. A few days ago I was one too. Now you are one instead. Eventually someone else will be brought here as well…” The person mumbles, their voice lacking any energy. “I know for a fact there were people before me too. How many though, no idea. I've only seen two.”
This sounds ominous.
“Then… what happens if there's no more room in this place?” A shiver runs up Ingo's spine as he is reminded that the air is rather cool in here. The headache, the dizziness, the weakness and a growing feeling of hunger make thinking too hard at the moment. “They don't plan on eating us, do they?”
“There's always a cell or two that are free at a time at least. Someone gets taken away, someone gets brought in. It's a cycle.” The person's explanation just makes the whole thing even more ominous somehow, and they don't seem to put the effort into elaborating further. They make a quiet sound that almost sounds like a laugh, instead.
“They're not gonna eat us, this isn't some underground cannibals cafe storage room…”
“You're not making me feel very hopeful.” Ingo mumbles. He can't think straight at this point. As the adrenaline from his initial panic has worn off, it just seems to be replaced by calm, quiet terror. He closes his eyes, but there's no difference in the darkness that he sees now and saw before. He lets out another grunt as his vision begins to go fuzzy and a loud ringing starts in his ears.
“Sorry. Can't help with something I don't have myself.” The person says in the same flat tired voice. There's a few seconds of silence, before they speak up again. “If you need bathroom, there's a bucket somewhere in the cell… Probably in a corner.”
Ingo opens his eyes, and tries to steady himself. He grabs ahold of the wall, and tries to pull himself up so he can go find the bucket. He doesn't like the prospect of relieving himself in a bucket, but the worsening migraine makes it very difficult to process how humiliating it is. In the pitch black, Ingo manages to find the bucket. It's in a far corner of a cell, and has clearly been used many times before, looking old and like something one would find in an ancient warehouse on a farm. The person in the cell behind the wall does not comment on anything, either to not make the situation harder than it already is, or because they genuinely can't bring themselves to care. Somehow, the latter feels more believable.
After some time, Ingo leans on the wall again to steady himself, as he's feeling very woozy. He tries to sit back down, only to almost collapse as his legs buckle out underneath him. Luckily, him leaning on the wall allows him to stay on his feet, and he slowly eases himself down into a sitting position on the floor. He just sits there for a minute, the pain from his throbbing headache still intense. As if this couldn’t get more embarrassing, his stomach rumbles loudly, and this time the person from the cell nearby does comment.
“They should bring food in about an hour, if my calculations are right… If I'm lucky, I’ll get to eat one more time too…”
Ingo just sits there on the cold floor as his stomach growls again. He slowly lifts himself up, and scoots closer to the metal bars of the cell, as if subconsciously trying to get closer to the only other living creature in this place.
“Why are they doing this? You said that they wouldn't eat us… are they trying to starve us?”
“They aren't starving us. It would be counterproductive. They feed us just enough so we survive, but get weak. So, don't expect a three course five star meal.” The person sighs. They make themself smaller by wrapping arms around themself and bringing her knees to their chest.
“That's why I told you not to panic. It's better to save energy…”
“That's not very reassuring…”
Ingo's stomach lets out another grumble and Ingo bites his lip. “Hey… I apologize for my prior brashness… could we at least talk while we wait? I would very much appreciate something to keep my mind off the pain. I'm afraid silence doesn’t help me keep my mind intact. How long ago did you say you were brought here?”
The person sighs quietly. “Sure. I think it was around a few says ago. Also woke up in my cell with no memory of how I got here, feeling like shit. There were two other people in cells beside me at the time. One of them was in the cell you're in right now.”
Although the person sounds just as unenthusiastic as before, it is clear that they do appreciate having at least some company. “One of them was taken away just a few hours after I woke up…”
This information does not sit very well with Ingo, and the ominous atmosphere of the room grows even more foreboding. He rubs his temples in a futile effort to try and ease his headache, but one of such intensity is unlikely to pass quickly even if he had painkillers in his pocket. This thought makes Ingo quickly check his pockets, but the result is predictable – they’re empty. Neither his phone, nor Xtranciever are there. Even his Pokéball belt is nowhere to be found.
“Do you know why they were taken? Away, I mean. Or do they just randomly select who goes next?”
“The one who's been there the longest gets taken. He was there for almost five days by the time I was brought here.” Although their voice sounds the same, there is an almost untraceable tone shift, making the person sound somehow even more hopeless. The implication is clear – they are the next one to get taken away, whatever it means. “The other one was taken in not long before me. He only lasted three days… Something about a previous person expiring too early…”
“That is incredibly short… What do you think they're doing to them? And who is this ‘them’, exactly?” Although he tries to keep his voice steady, panic threatens to rise in Ingo's throat again, but he desperately tries to keep it at bay. He's not going to lose control again. He refuses.
The person in the other cell is silent for a few seconds after the question echoes through their containment. Whether they are just trying to find the right words, or trying to force themself to actually say out loud what they know, it makes the atmosphere grimmer either way.
“…The guy who was there the longest said he overheard some conversation from outside the door. Apparently we're in some drug testing center. We are future test subjects…”
Ingo's heart immediately begins to race as this information dawns on him. “Drug… test subject… like a lab Rattata?”
Before the other person can even answer anything, he tries to stand up with an angry, determined look on his face, the sudden rush of anger giving him some energy to move. “I'm not going to be turned into some science experiment, I refuse!” Ingo’s head begins to spin almost immediately though, and he collapses back down to the cold concrete floor with a grunt. The sudden rush of energy already ran itself dry, and the man doesn’t attempt to get up again, instead rubbing his temples some more, as the headache remains.
Even though the person in the other cell can't see the man through the wall, they know what he's doing by just the sounds they can hear. They sigh. “Yeah. They thought of that as well… Whatever drug they used during kidnapping weakens you for a while. By the time it fades away, you are already weakened by the conditions and can’t fight anymore…”
“Bastards…” Ingo’s voice is harsh. He rarely ever sounds so harsh or uses such language, but the situation he found himself in calls for it. “What does this mean then? Are we supposed to just lie here, get weaker and weaker, and wait for them to inject us with whatever concoction that those monsters have been cooking up?!”
Ingo's mind races as he considers their situation. Although his mind is fuzzy, and everything hurts, he tries to think of some way to get out of this already, looking around his cell and the space outside of it for some sort of detail that might help with that. The person in the neighboring cell doesn’t seem nearly as scandalized by the realization, judging by how quiet their voice is now. Perhaps they have made it a long time ago already.
“…I would assume so. In the few days I've been there, neither I, nor anyone who was there with me at the time were able to come up with anything.”
And after a closer look, it does seem like a hopeless situation. The walls are all concrete, completely flat, with no semblance of even the tiniest window. Then there are the metal bars with a heavy, ancient looking padlock. Even if Ingo were to somehow escape and step out of the cell, there's nowhere else to go. There are no windows, even outside the cell. There’s only a tiny vent right under the concrete ceiling that may be big enough for a Skitty at best, but not a human being, not even a child. The only door that Ingo assumes leads out has a heavy elaborate lock on it, covering the whole seemingly metal door with cogs, and the door most likely leads to the rest of the facility. And there are no guarantee Ingo will be able to navigate and escape it.
None of this makes Ingo feel any better. He tries to wrap his head around the fact that he has absolutely no control over this situation, and that he's effectively been reduced to nothing more than a Rattata trapped in a cage. The more he tries to process this and come up with alternative escape solutions, the more the gravity of this nightmare situation sinks in. If this really is a medical research facility, there's no telling what types of tests they will perform on him. What if he doesn't survive? What if… he dies a slow, long demise, never to see the outside world again?
He slowly rests his head in his hands, now feeling utterly defeated and helpless. This can't be happening to him. He's a Subway Boss Ingo. He has a twin brother he loves very much, and a big team of Pokémon he trained since they were all young. He has an important job he loves, he has a whole life still ahead. This can't be happening to him.
Suddenly, Ingo is overcome by a wave of nausea. He can feel bile begin to rise in the back of his mouth, and he quickly jumps up to find the bucket again. He collapses over the bucket and dry heaves from the sudden realization of the hopeless situation, the action causing his whole body to convulse. The person in the other cell hears Ingo and looks up, even though they can't see eachother because of the wall between them. Although up until then they were pretty indifferent towards their prison mate, they can’t help but feel a painful pang in their chest because of the reaction Ingo is having.
“Pretty dumb question, but… how are you feeling?” The question sounds almost as awkward as it is useless.
It's a long, grueling five minutes before Ingo is finally able to stop heaving. When he finally recovers, he slowly sits back up, grabs ahold of the wall to steady himself, and spits out whatever stomach acid that's still in his mouth. His breathing is still heavy, and his face is pale.
“I feel horrible. I've never felt so awful in my life…”
“Yeah… Understandable…”
That's all the person can say in response. What else can they even say? How to comfort someone in a situation like this, when they themself is just as hopeless, just with an even shorter time left? Whatever comforting words they could say, all of them would ring empty, when a horrible demise is already knocking at the door.
After a round of silence, they turn around and scoot over to the bars, putting their arm through them and reaching into the cell the man is in. They try to find Ingo by touch. Thankfully the walls aren’t too thick for them to not reach it. Maybe they can at least hold his hand or something. It's not much, but at least it's some human comfort that’s not a heartless ‘everything will be okay’ lie.
Ingo looks up as he sees the person’s hand reaching through the bars, their hand extended out toward him and making subtle grabbing motion, clearly looking for him. For a moment, he just stares at it. Then, slowly, he lifts his own arm up, and grabs ahold of their hand with a very weak grip. He's trembling – a mixture of fear, anxiety, and the overwhelming weakness that pervades his body. The person can feel it all while they hold his hand, also feeling how cold it is, and how weak the grip is. They caress the back of his hand with a thumb, in a surprisingly caring action. A big contrast to how uninterested they were initially in talking.
“…My name is Taylor.”
Ingo's hand instinctively squeezes theirs as they caress the back of his. Their hand is surprisingly warm, big contrast to his that feel like ice. He can't remember the last time that he had any physical contact at this point, and for a moment, he forgets just what horrible nightmare of a situation he's in. The small gesture of empathy feels like a breath of fresh air.
“My name is Ingo... It's a pleasure to meet you, Taylor.”
“Likewise.”
Taylor's voice sounds a little warmer than it did before. It can even be heard that they are smiling a little. In a hopeless and horrific situation like this, a small act of empathy almost makes them both forget they will die in less than a week. Almost…
Suddenly, the heavy door starts making metallic sounds, and the heavy cogs start turning, signifying that it’s about to be opened from the other side. Taylor quickly lets go off Ingo's hand and pulls their arm back into their cell. The heavy door opens and a tall, buff man walks in, carrying something. He first opens Taylor's cell door and places a plate with a simple piece of stale bread, and a metal mug of water on the floor. He then does the same by going to Ingo's cell. Seeing as how the man seemed completely unafraid of both himself and Taylor, it seems like a reasonable assumption that the two of them are far too weak and sickly-looking to pose any sort of significant threat.
The mere sight of food, albeit very basic and bland, causes Ingo's stomach to begin another round of loud, painful growling. He stares at it like he hasn't eaten in days, which, in reality, wasn’t even the case, but perhaps the drug made him famished in a short amount of time. Ingo feels some anger as he watches the man give them their meals, but he quickly realizes that he cannot do anything. The man has a reason for his confidence – Ingo may have been able to apprehend him in his normal state. But he’s so weak and exhausted at the moment from the drug, and the headache is too strong, Ingo knows that even if he tried to attack, he wouldn’t stand a chance. Taylor is most likely just as weakened, if not by drug, then by the conditions.
After the man gives the two their meal, with the same air of confidence, he leaves Ingo’s cell, locking it behind him, then leaves through the same heavy door, locking it behind him as well with a heavy creak. Once the door is silent once more, Taylor reaches for a piece of bread on their metal plate and sighs.
“Like I said, not a three course meal…”
Ingo slowly reaches out and picks up the piece of dry, bland bread. “That's perfectly fine by me…”
He immediately shoves the bread into his mouth and begins to ravenously chew it. The overwhelming hunger that's plagued him for the past several hours slowly starts to subside. Taylor eats their bread silently and slowly, before downing their mug of water slowly as well. They are hungry too, but it's not like there's much to entertain themself with. Might as well eat while thinking about the taste and the texture, for some stimulation at least…
Once he's finished devouring his meal, Ingo leans back against the wall and sighs. He still feels very weak and woozy, but at least his stomach is no longer painfully empty.
“That was… well… it wasn't great, but it was still better than nothing.” He looks over in Taylor's direction, unable to actually see them, but it's the thought that counts. A quiet sigh can be heard from their cell.
“I would have much rather starved to death before they get to me… But the moment they see someone stops eating, they're immediately taken away, before that happens.”
Taylor leans on the cell bars again and puts their hand through, reaching into Ingo's cell once more. Seeing as how they’re putting their hand through the bars of his cell again and reaching out for him, Ingo immediately grabs ahold of it and holds it very tightly, and then lets out an exhausted huff. Just some handholding is very little, but it is effective in helping him remain somewhat calm.
“Do you really think that death would be any better?” Ingo's grip on their hand tightens.
“Considering they kidnap people for experimentation, I doubt they let anyone go afterwards. You either die now, or suffer experiments and die in the end anyway… I would have chosen death on my own terms, personally.” Taylor sighs and caresses the back of Ingo's palm with their thumb again, just as desperate for human contact. Whoever said that bonds in extreme situations form fast was right. Taylor already feels like the person they’re separated by a concrete wall from is the closest person they’ve ever had I their life. “Sorry to be down in the dumps… It's hard to think about anything else in here.”
As they gently caress his hand, Ingo just shuts his eyes and takes in the small gesture. It really is crazy how even the smallest, seemingly insignificant acts of kindness can make such a huge difference during times like this. He lets out a slow exhale as his expression softens.
“Do not apologize, please. I know how you feel…”
He pauses, and then finally opens his eyes and looks ahead, at nothing in particular. “This really is a hopeless situation, isn't it?”
“I guess so…”
As opposed to how flat and tired Taylor sounded before, their voice now sounds a little wet, like they want to cry. Maybe it's the physical and emotional connection that makes them open up like this now, unlike how they kept themselves in a shell just an hour ago. “I'm not even scared of dying that much anymore… It's that… No one will even know, or find my body after…”
Ingo squeezes their hand again, knowing exactly what they mean. He feels a slight sting in his eyes. But he's stronger than that, and he's not going to let himself just break down into tears. “No one will even find our bodies, will they? They'll just experiment on us until we die, and then… dispose of us like we're nothing more than trash…”
He looks away, not wanting Taylor to hear anymore of his despair, but his voice already sounds very strained. Taylor squeezes Ingo's hand tighter as well, their own eyes stinging, but they also don't want to break down completely. They don’t want to make their new friend feel any worse than he already does. Though with the emotions both feel coming up, neither of them are successful at that.
“I don't… I don't really have anyone who would mourn me anyway, but… This isn't how I wanted…”
Taylor grows silent, unable to finish the sentence, because their voice wavers too much and they don't want it to break completely. After a few seconds of calming their breath down in silence, they speak up again. “Did you… Do you have a family?”
Ingo looks up and opens his eyes again. His expression has gone even softer, as the thought of his loved ones causes a few small tears to fall down his face after all, but like before, he doesn't give into them. He can't.
“I do. I have a twin brother, Emmet.” His grip tightens on his knee. “He must be worried sick right now… He's probably turning the entire city upside down looking for me…”
Taylor feels a few tears run down their cheeks and they lean more into the wall, still holding and caressing Ingo's hand. They try not to let her voice waver this time, though their success is relative. “Must be an amazing brother…”
“He really is.” The smallest of smiles appears on Ingo's face as he imagines Emmet searching high and low for him, doing whatever it takes to get him back safe. “That's what makes this situation even more unbearable for me. Having to know that he's worried sick, but being utterly unable to do a single thing about it…”
This time, more tears fall down his face. But in a desperate attempt to cling onto what little self-control he has left, he still doesn't sob, and instead grips his knee more with his free hand. Taylor can feel a drop fall on their hand, and even though Ingo doesn't sob out loud, they know he's crying as well. Taylor lets go of his hand and moves it slowly, trying to find his face without seeing him, with a wall being between them. When their fingers brush against his cheek, they cup it and caress it softly with their thumb.
“I really wished for a family… I didn't have a good one. I always thought maybe… I'll find someone nice to marry, and we could build our own perfect family together…”
The unexpected contact causes a slight shiver to go down Ingo’s spine. He tries not to immediately lean into Taylor’s touch, but after a few seconds, he gives in and pushes his face against their hand.
“If I ever get out of here… I'm going straight to Emmet and just giving him a big hug.” He lets out a chuckle as he imagines Emmet's shocked, yet happy, expression. Although the quiet laugh sounds more painful than happy. Taylor tries to smile through the tears as well.
“Maybe I could come with you, and I could give you a hug as well then…” Taylor says, and they finally can't take it anymore, a shaking breath escaping their throat, as well as a sniffle. Neither of them are getting out, and they both know it. So all this bittersweet wishful thinking just makes their hearts ache, knowing none of this joy is happening. Ingo sounds quieter than he had in a long while.
“Sure…” He shuts his eyes as a few more tears roll down his cheeks. Even though they've only known eachother for a few hours, they both feel like the other is the closest person they have at the moment. When you're both trapped against your will, going through the same nightmare together, that tends to happen. “I'd… Like that.”
Ingo feels a lump form in his throat. He's been on the verge of breaking down for a while now, and soon, he won't be able to hold it back for much longer. Taylor is already crying quietly, sniffling, and breathing shakily, caressing Ingo's cheek while they're separated by a concrete wall. The limited touch feels like a lifeline to them. They’re so desperate for more touch, but both have to settle for what they have. If they were in the same cell together though, they would have been holding eachother very tightly.
Ingo is also crying quietly now. The way that Taylor is gently caressing his cheek causes his whole body to shiver. Even though there's a wall between them, his body still senses their presence, and in this moment, their small caress feels just as warm and pleasant as if they were sitting right beside him. As the seconds tick by, however, he just can't hold back anymore. He covers his face with one hand and finally loses control, finally sobbing out all of the anguish that he's been trying to repress.
Taylor can hear Ingo finally start sobbing as well, and all they can do is keep caressing his cheek through the iron bars, before they move back to his hand and hold it once more instead. They have nothing to say, and can only cry quietly on the other side of the concrete wall, taking whatever comfort they can from their prison mate in another cell. Though, maybe Ingo being nearby is the whole reason they feel like crying. While they were alone, they didn't feel like they could cry again, after their own realization of the situation, days ago.
Every sob that is ripped from Ingo’s throat feels like a punch to the gut. The thought that he might never see his brother ever again, or his beloved Pokémon partners, or Elesa, or anyone else e holds dear is too much for him to bear. He squeezes Taylor's hand tightly, as if he's clinging onto a lifeline. All of this horror, this cell, this future that’s ahead of them, it feels too unimaginably horrible to be the truth.
“This is a nightmare. This is all just a nightmare. It can't be real… It just can't…”
“I'm sorry… I'm very sorry…”
That's all Taylor can muster at the moment as they sob as well, quietly. They hear Ingo start denying the situation, and all they can do is keep holding his hand and say they’re sorry, over and over again, even though none of this is their fault, and they’re in the same situation as him.
The pain that Ingo's going through from the fear of never seeing Emmet again is immense, but the fact that Taylor is here and suffering through the same thing, and sharing in the misery and despair, just makes it a hundred times worse. Even though they haven't known eachother for long, they’re just some poor, innocent person just like him, and they don't deserve any of this. And yet, here they are, their life to soon be over just like that, their presence on the planet forgotten and never remembered. That thought just causes Ingo to sob more violently. Sharing misery might be comforting, but in their case, it almost makes it all hurt more. How this works, Taylor doesn't know for sure. Perhaps it’s because they're crying not only for themselves now, but for eachother as well.
Taylor's sobs die down eventually and they only sniffle occasionally, while still leaning against the concrete wall and holding Ingo's hand, with their arm out through the cell bars. Over the next few minutes, Ingo's sobs finally subside as well. As he finally regains a bit of his composure, he still shudders from time to time. He looks down at Taylor's hand he’s still holding, and a wave of exhaustion washes over him. The cold and dirty concrete floor is far from an ideal resting place, but what other choice do they have?
“Maybe if we both lie down… It might be a bit easier to sleep if we don't look at the door.” His voice sounds very strained, like he's about to start crying again at any moment, but miraculously, he manages to keep himself under control for now.
“I don't really feel like sleeping right now…” Taylor sighs and keeps caressing Ingo's hand. “But if you feel sleepy, you can lie down and rest. I can keep holding your hand while you fall asleep.”
Ingo lets himself savor every second of their caress. With a slow, exhausted sigh, Ingo finally lets go of Taylor. He then slowly slides down the wall next to the cell door and onto the concrete floor, laying down and putting his hands behind his head, to make the position at least a little more comfortable.
“Thank you, Taylor. I really need the rest.” Although he said he needed some sleep, he doesn't intend on falling asleep for the moment, for he's dreading the nightmares that he'll have.
Taylor pulls their hand back and puts it in their lap, and sighs. If Ingo falls asleep, they will have to be alone with their thoughts for a while… Maybe they might as well just try to sleep as well. Although their time is limited, with no sure way to tell by how much, and it's scary to think that they will skip through several hours of their life. What of they wake up next time, and it’s their time to be taken away, with no possibility to even say proper goodbye? But it's not like staying awake will do them any good either.
Ingo shuts his eyes tightly and tries to fall asleep, as he said he would. Just as before though, the silence of the cell is unsettling, so he decides to start a conversation again.
“So… Taylor…” He clears his throat. “I understand that this is a useless question, considering our circumstances… But I'll ask anyway. How old are you?”
“…I'm 23.” Taylor answers softly. They move a little, to lie on their back as well and maybe try to fall asleep, so they aren’t alone while Ingo is resting too. “It was my birthday just a week ago…”
“Oh… Happy birthday.” It's so surreal to Ingo that they're having a normal, casual conversation, as if they're not locked up in a cell, facing an uncertain fate. However, he knows this is better than just sitting in silence. Ingo quickly realizes that the position he’s in is too uncomfortable anyway and extends his hand between the cell bars, this time to reach out for Taylor instead, eager for some form of physical contact once more.
“Thanks.” Taylor answers flatly, though with just a gram of humor in their voice. They take Ingo's hand again and sigh, caressing it with their thumb. In a setting like this, it feels like torture to not be touching a fellow human being. “How old are you then?”
“I am 29…” He lets out a sigh… “I can't believe that we're both having casual conversations about our ages in this nightmare. It doesn't feel real…”
“Mundane helps cope with extreme situations, otherwise human brain breaks. At least that's what I heard from somewhere…” Taylor smiles softly, even though they can't see Ingo because of the wall between them. “What did you work as?”
“A Subway Boss…” The fact that he's telling Taylor about his job just feels surreal. He's so used to answering this question in casual conversation, that it just feels natural for him to do so now as well, despite the circumstances. “My Pokémon team and I provided a challenging milestone on the Battle Subway in Nimbasa city, along with my brother Emmet. We are also in charge of the public transport part of the Subway…”
“Wow… That sounds important.” Taylor sounds a little impressed. Ingo’s grip on their hand tightens a little, but he quickly loosens it again, realizing he might be gripping it too much.
“And what about you? What did you do for work?”
“I didn't really work… I was just a Pokémon trainer. It was all I've ever known, so it just kind of stuck through the years, until I would maybe find something else that would call for me.”
“Being a Pokémon trainer is more than a career. It is a way of life.” A tiny smile comes across Ingo’s face. He wonders what this person must've looked like with all of their Pokémon surrounding them. The thought that they won't able to see or interact with them ever again causes his heart to ache again. “What Pokémon did you have on your team?”
“I had a Corviknight, a Magmortar, a Leafeon and a Frosmoth…” Taylor smiles softly as they list off their team members. Their face and voice tone change from soft to depressed again, as they remember her Pokémon.
“I wonder how they are now… I'm kind of glad I didn't take them with me when I took that damn walk. They wouldn't have helped me, it all happened so fast. At least they are safe at home… Who knows what these monsters would have done with them if they found their Pokéballs on me.”
“I'm sure that they miss you…”
It feels so tragic to Ingo how him and Taylor think about all the friends and family they left behind while coming to terms with their fate. Just from the way Taylor talks about their Pokémon, it's obvious that they were all beloved members of the family. And they must be so worried right now. Ingo tries to think about something else though, he really does not want to cry again.
“What are their names? I've always been interested in how people name their Pokémon.”
They end up chatting for a while, about the most casual things in the world, not trying to distract eachother from the nightmare they found themselves in on purpose, but doing so naturally anyway. They chat until they both get tired and drowsy enough, and drift away to restless sleep on the cold concrete.
Taylor is woken up by the sounds of the heavy door opening up again, and they quickly open their eyes and sit up, anxious to see if they were getting fed again, or if their time has finally come. They watch as the door opens, and light creeps into the cold room from the corridor on the other side. The light is not very bright, but after having spent so much time in darkness, it hurts Taylor’s eyes anyway. As usual, the same buff man, who must be their prison warden, is alone. These people must really be confident that no one will attempt anything stupid, considering no one seems to even be waiting at the door for the man. Taylor watches the thug closely, and tries not to look too relieved when they see a metal plate with bread and mug of water put in front of them. It is not their time yet, after all.
Ingo hears the same door open and the sound of a metal plate hitting the floor, and he knows it has now been several hours since he found himself in this cell. With what little strength he has, he sits up and reaches for the plate. He sighs with relief, just knowing that he will get to eat again. As the last time, the bread is stale and tasteless, but it's sustenance, nonetheless. He starts eating and doesn't even bother speaking up, for he's so drained. The headache has subsided, but Ingo now feels as if he has been in this cell for at least a few weeks, instead of barely a day. It’s almost unnatural. He wonders if the drug that was used on him and Taylor to knock them out is to blame for this effect.
Right before the buff guy walks out through the door, he throws Taylor an almost mocking smile. He usually doesn’t talk with the prisoners, at least Taylor has never seen him do that. But this time, he seems to be in the mood.
“Eat while ya can, pipsqueak. The last one almost kicked the bucket; we’ll need a replacement soon.”
He chuckles and closes the heavy door behind him with a creek and a thud that almost blow Ingo’s and Taylor’s eardrums up. The silence that follows after is deafening. They don’t say anything and Taylor feels their hands shake as they hold the piece of bread. It shouldn’t have been a surprise. It’s been long enough at this point. And a warning should be better than getting dragged away immediately. But both Taylor and Ingo feel something break inside them when they heard the clear warning – the next, or the one after that, time the guy comes, he will only bring food for Ingo.
Taylor bites into their bread, their hands still shaking, and the lump in their throat making it hard to swallow even the smallest crumbs. They still manage to push the small meal down their throat and wash it down with water with a weird and unpleasant flavor. None of it matters though. Might as well not bash their possibly last meal. As soon as they finish their meal, Taylor moves back to the same wall again and reaches through the cell, as if on autopilot, for Ingo.
In just a second their hand is locked with his, and this simple gesture makes Taylor finally fully realize what’s happening. Their breathing quickly becomes rapid, and they grip Ingo’s hand.
“Ingo…” Taylor’s voice is the most broken it has been since they’ve known eachother.
“Yes, I’ve heard, Taylor…” Ingo’s isn’t much better. He feels like he’s close to having another breakdown, but he tries to stay strong for Taylor. This feels too soon. His only friend in this hell would be taken away in just a few hours, and he will be left on his own, until it’s his time to face the same fate. His mind can’t comprehend how something like this can be real, and not product of a night terror. But the still warm hand gripping his serves as a painful reminder that the person in the neighboring cell who he already bonded to will be no more soon. Ingo stares at the concrete wall that separates them, as if trying to look Taylor in their face. He knows he will never see their face, but he still looks.
Taylor’s voice is wet and shaky. “I… I knew this would happen soon… When I was sitting there for the three days before you were brought in, I thought I coped with that thought already, but…”
Taylor breathes rapidly, trying to calm down and not start crying again. After a few minutes, they sniffle softly and whisper. “…I kind of wish you weren't there… Obviously because I wish you weren’t kidnapped, but also because… Now I’m also scared to leave you alone here… I don't want you to be here…”
“I understand…”
Ingo pauses for a moment, as if trying to find the words to say to this person that he's only just met. The more he listens to them, the worse he feels, yet he knows he can’t help in any way, and that only makes the situation more unbearable. “I'm also sorry that you're here with me. You don't deserve this.”
His grip on their hand becomes a little firmer, almost to the point of hurting. To distract himself from his thoughts, he just starts studying the texture of their hand and fingers. He doesn’t know what else to say, for once.
Taylor is silent for a while as they caress Ingo's hand. There isn't much to talk about anymore, but the silence is too heavy, and there's a desperate feeling go keep the conversation alive. As if to confirm that they are still not alone in here. To fill the time they have left with at least something.
“Ingo… When I get taken away… Comfort whoever gets brought in after us, okay?” They whisper. When there is nothing else left to do for oneself, it’s natural to focus on whatever one can do for others. Ingo nods.
“I suppose that it would be the right thing to do, although it will be hard to do much comforting here.” …Especially after you're gone. “But… I'll try, Taylor. I'll try. I promise.”
Knowing that Taylor is going to get taken soon, he can only just savor every second of their time together in this prison cell. This might truly be it… He lets out a slow sigh, his mind refusing to focus on anything else but his friend’s departure. Taylor mirrors the sigh.
“Thank you…”
Taylor can't manage anything else, despite the strong desire to keep the conversation going. Together they sit like this, exchanging a few words occasionally about something mundane, to keep eachother sane. Until the very next time the heavy door opens and the same tall man comes in. Taylor quickly pulls their hand back again and watches in fear as the man opens he cell door. They anticipate that they will be taken away, and they will get dragged harshly in the thug’s grip, without having any strength in them to fight back, and forced out of the dark area, away from their only friend Ingo, and forced into the terrifying unknown where they will probably meet their long and painful death, with no respect as a living creature. But Taylor almost cries in relief when a plate with bread and a mug with water are thrown before them. Ingo gets the same treatment, and the confident muscular man leaves wordlessly again, shutting the heavy door close behind him.
Neither Taylor nor Ingo say much for a bit after that. Ingo feels like he's going to start crying again out of frustration and relief, for he was so convinced that it was going to be Taylor’s turn this time. He lets out a small, shaky sigh and just lets his body relax, at least physically. Mentally, though, his mind is a complete mess of anxiety and stress. He knows Taylor's departure is coming, and he can't help but wonder when that will be now. If their prison warden’s words are anything to go by, then the next time Ingo will surely be the only one to receive his meal.
Taylor silently reaches for their, possibly, last meal, to get some sustenance, and they freeze in shock when they reach for the bread. The texture of the plate… It's cold, but it's not metal, like it usually is. It's ceramic. And as they realize that, a terrifying thought crosses their mind. Although their current situation is even more horrifying, and it makes their thought feel normal and completely logical. Theis voice is quiet, but it does not waver this time.
“Ingo… how badly do you want to try getting out?”
Ingo is quiet for a second, while he processes what Taylor just said to him. Getting out… That's what they've both desired since they got here, and something they both gave up on very quickly. The whole reason for their hopelessness is the fact that escape seems impossible. And yet, if there were a chance, after all… Ingo looks up slowly towards Taylor's direction, and responds calmly.
“I can't think of anything I desire more right now.”
“…How far are you willing to go to try?”
Taylor asks quieter, as a plan quickly forms in their mind. They have no idea why this time they gave them a ceramic plate instead of iron. Maybe it was a mistake. But they will not let this mistake slip. This mistake will be those people's downfall, as well as their and Ingo's key to escape.
Ingo answers after a few seconds of silence. “I'm willing to do… Whatever it takes.”
At this point, Ingo is even willing to risk death. That's better than a few days of ‘life’ of imprisonment in this tiny cell, until inevitable end. Even though he's so scared of getting hurt or dying, the idea of possibly getting out of this nightmare is just too tempting to let the chance slip, if there is one, after all. “Does that mean… You know what to do?”
“I have an idea…”
Taylor scoots closer to the wall and turns their face to the cell bars, so Ingo can hear them better while they whisper, scared of someone possibly overhearing her plan from outside. There are no cameras in this place, and the prison rooms always felt like it’s soundproof, but there’s always a chance they can be heard from outside, and Taylor does not want to take the risk.
“We need to find a way to open your cell. They gave me a ceramic plate instead of metal. If I break it, I will get a weapon. When the guy comes for me next time and opens my cell door, I will attack, and you'll help me. I'll give you a shard as well; we might be able to get him down together. He doesn't lock the door while he's inside, we might be able to escape…”
Listening intently to Taylor's plan, it becomes quite apparent to Ingo that this will be no easy task. There are so many ways that this could go south, but the chances of getting out just seem too good to ignore…
“Taylor… This is incredibly dangerous. Even if we do get him down together, what if there are more of them? What if he has a weapon on him? What if he locks the door this time?” Despite all of the risks that he proposes, he's not saying no. He just wants to discuss the logistics behind it. Taylor shakes their head.
“I know, I know, this is very risky… But Ingo, I'm desperate, I’m really, really scared. I will die soon. And you will only have a few days left too after I'm gone. We aren't surviving anyway. If we have even a slight chance to get out of here, or at the very least punish some people who are responsible for this hellhole… I'm ready to risk it.”
Taylor says the last part quietly, but their voice is no longer depressed, or sad, or empty. Even with a wall separating them, Ingo can almost see the determined fire in their eyes.
“If you aren't ready, I'm not going to go through with this… But if you are, I want to try to busting out with you.”
“Taylor…”
Ingo is really taking the time to think this through. Taylor's determination is contagious, and he's starting to want to join in on this one last ditch attempt to get to freedom. After Ingo thinks everything through just a little more, he finally makes the decision.
“Let's do it. I'm ready to risk it as well.” Even though he's scared, the thought of what might happen after Taylor is taken away, or in a few days after, is too much to bear. He just needs to get out. “I will take a shard of your plate, and assist you in your fight.”
Taylor nods and looks around their cell, to find something, anything that might qualify as a lock pick in this tiny concrete box. Their eyes land on one of the only items inside - the bucket. They stand up and walk over to it, inspecting it closer than ever before. The handle is thin enough to possibly work as a lock picking tool on the big heavy lock on their cells. Taylor tries to remove it from the bucket itself, but their hands are too weak to bend the mental rod enough. They walk back to the wall.
“Ingo, check out your bucket. Can you remove the handle?”
Ingo walks over to the bucket in the corner of his cell, and he sees the same thin piece of metal that Taylor saw on theirs. He reaches his hand towards it and attempts to wiggle the object from its position in the holes of the bucket. Within a minute, the handle comes loose. It wasn't terribly sturdy anyways.
“I have it loose!” He takes it from its spot, and walks over to the cell bars, reaching for Taylor's hand. “I've got it… This is our key.”
“Great. Can you try to pick your lock and see if you can get it open?”
There's a tiny fire of hope in Taylor’s soul. Maybe they aren't in a completely hopeless situation now. Maybe if they play their cards right, they can use whatever trash they have on hand and get out of this hell, together. Or, at the very least, spend their last living moments trying.
Ingo nods. “I'll try it now…”
Ingo inserts the crude lock pick, and after a few minutes of struggling, it works perfectly, thanks to how simple and old the locking mechanism is, just like everything in this place. And within just a few seconds, the click of the cell door unlocking becomes the most satisfying sound either of the two have heard in a while. Ingo tries to open the door, and sees that he can indeed open it now.
“Taylor? I've done it! I've unlocked my door!” Ingo opens his mouth as if to let out a victory scream, but quickly stops himself before doing so. He looks over towards Taylor's general direction, just wishing that he could see the expression on their face in this moment.
Taylor quickly shushes Ingo before he gets too loud. Their prison may be soundproof, but it's better not to bring any unwanted attention by accident. While Ingo makes his cell's door seem like it's still locked in the darkness, Taylor picks up the bread from their plate and puts it away. They take the plate, hold it above ground, parallel to the concrete floor, and smash it. The shattering sound is loud and echoes off the old walls, making both Taylor’s and Ingo’s heart race. Differently sized shards fly in different directions, the big ones fly up and break into smaller parts as well once they fall on the floor once again. Once they all settle, Taylor leans down to inspect the results, praying this worked as well as they need. They find the sharpest triangle shaped ones and take two of them. They put their hand through the bars and give one of the shards to Ingo.
“Thank you, Taylor.”
Hearing the smashing of the plate, hearing the glass shards flying across the cell, makes him feel incredibly anxious. His heart rate is going up, and he feels the adrenaline kick in. Taylor's plan was so crazy, but now, it's starting to seem like their only hope. “To tell the truth, I'm scared…”
As he's speaking, he puts one hand on the glass shard they’re handing to him, and his other hand, he puts on the door to his cell, to make sure it truly still looks locked.
“I know. I'm too.” Taylor's own heartbeat is elevated, and they’re breathing quicker than usual from the adrenalin already rushing through their veins. They sits down on the concrete floor and holds the shard in one of their hands, like it’s a protective amulet, while putting their free hand through the cell again, wanting to hold Ingo's. They push the rest of the shards into another corner of the cell, so they aren’t as noticeable. “When the guy comes in, I'll let him come close, then attack… You'll come for help, okay?...”
“I will come to your aid immediately. I'll rush in to help you as soon as you commence the plan.”
Ingo’s breathing is coming out faster and faster as he just awaits the moment that the man comes in. His grip on Taylor's hand becomes firmer as he continues to hold it. Although there is some hope for their escape now, it’s impossible to remember that they’re gambling with odds being not in their favor at all. This could be their last interaction before they meet their end, this time for sure.
“Taylor… I'm glad… I'm glad I got to know you…”
“I'm glad I got to know you too.”
Taylor smiles a bit as they try to calm their breathing down. This is the most hopeful they’ve felt since they woke up in this place three or so days ago. Whether they get out of here soon, or lose their lives in this crazy attempt at breaking out, they will be in this together, and the idea is somewhat comforting, at least. Taylor reaches for the bread they put away earlier.
“Let's eat. We need all the energy we can get.”
Ingo nods, and takes the piece of bread that he didn’t have the chance to eat. He looks down at it in his hand, and then at Taylor's direction.
“Let us feast one last time, Taylor.”
Ingo chokes back a few tears while he eats, as so many emotions surge through his body at once. This could be it, though. The day of freedom or death. He wants this so badly, and he just knows that Taylor does as well. They both look towards the dark entrance of the room… Waiting.
They eat the bread and drink the water they were given, and sit there, holding hands with the concrete wall separating them, anticipating the moment they will put the plan into action when the time comes.
It feels like literal hours, and it probably is hours, until the cogs on the heavy metal door start to turn and the silence of the darkness is cut through by a sickly familiar heavy creek. Taylor lets go off Ingo's hand and sits by the wall, looking as scared and pathetic as their ward expects them to.
Ingo can feel his heart stop beating for a second. His hand grips the ceramic shard just a little more tightly, and he prepares to jump into action the second that it's needed from him. He hears the familiar footsteps walking straight to Taylor's cell. He hears his own blood pumping in his ears due to all the adrenaline rushing through his body. He's never felt this much anxiety in his life. Time seems to stop.
Taylor's heartbeat is just as rapid as they watch the buff man walk over to their cell and unlock the heavy lock, before stepping inside. Thankfully, they don't have to hide her feelings. A person who's about to get taken to their death is expected to be terrified.
Taylor watches the man come inside, and what he takes as them watching him frozen in fear, in reality is them calculating, the best they can, how and where to strike.
The man enters the cell, and Ingo starts to feel nauseous as he listens to him come close to Taylor, completely unaware of what is about to happen as soon as Taylor engages their attack plan. He breathes in deeply and readies himself. This is do or die for the both of them.
“Aight, come ‘ere.”
The man grunts and reaches down for Taylor's arm. Before he can grab them, they launch themself at him, slashing the man’s throat with the sharpest end of the ceramic shard. Taylor has to have most of it covered with their hand, so the fragile material doesn’t break yet, but it does its job in cutting through the skin of the thug. The sharp piece doesn't go in too deep, but the attack is unexpected and painful, and it catches the thug off guard. He screams in shock and stumbles back a little, but doesn’t yell loudly, which is exactly what Taylor needs. They take the opportunity, and change their position, stabbing the man in the throat, as hard as they can.
As soon as Taylor launches themself at the man, Ingo springs into action. His hand opens the cell door, and he runs straight towards the man and Taylor. Adrenaline surges through his veins and his heart pounds like a drum. He gets behind the man, and he tries to pin him to the floor, with the intent to subdue him, and cover his mouth to muffle the screams.
Ingo's and Taylor's eyes have gotten used to darkness after having spent several days in the cells, while the man only came in here few times a day. He does not see Ingo come in, because of the shock, because of the thick darkness, and because he didn’t expect Ingo to have been able to open his cell. Using the moment the man is off guard and stumbling, Taylor aims for one of his eyes and stabs it, their brain filled with only one overwhelmingly loud thought: get him incapacitated, get him blind, make him dead, make sure he can’t harm them. They stab the other eye, until they feels like they might have blinded him already, then goes back to stabbing his neck, so he cannot scream, and cannot fight back, while the guy’s arms flail around, in a desperate attempt to fight back. Taylor would have gotten hit, if not for Ingo making sure the guy can’t reach anything.
Ingo, still running on pure adrenaline, grabs the man's arm and pulls it behind the man's back as he is trying to struggle against Taylor and Ingo. It's just like when he would practice grappling with Emmet… But this is a real situation, on a real person trying to harm Taylor, and Ingo, like Taylor, isn't holding anything back.
Taylor stabs the man in the throat, and stabs, and stabs again, even when he stops struggling. They keep stabbing, terrified that he's just pretending, and will get up and apprehend them and Ingo the moment they least expect it. Everything in their eyes is a blur, and their brain doesn't even register anything but the repeated movements, as blood splatters around in the darkness, creating a pool on the otherwise colorless concrete floor.
Ingo watches as the man stops thrashing, just becoming completely motionless on the floor. Blood is all over the floor, some of it on Ingo’s clothes too, and there's no sound coming from the guy either. Once he's certain that the man is no longer a threat, Ingo lets go of him, turns to Taylor, then puts both hands on their shoulders, trying to calm them down.
“Taylor, He's not moving anymore. It's over. He's dead. We succeeded… It's over… You're safe… I'm safe…”
Ingo's voice is trembling as he speaks, but he wants to reassure Taylor as much as possible. His voice and feeling his hands on them makes Taylor stop, and holds the shards in both of their hands, close to their chest, as they breathe heavily, shaking all over from the adrenalin still rushing through her blood. Taylor stares at the dead man in front of their eyes, as their breathing slows down gradually.
“We… We did it…”
Ingo can't stop his hands from shaking as he still holds onto Taylor's shoulders. But they really did it. They won… Even though Ingo just watched Taylor stab the man, it still seems like a massive relief and shock now that it's all over.
“Yes… We… We did it…” His grip on Taylor gets a little firmer, and he then pulls them into his arms and hugs them close at last. Taylor immediately hugs Ingo back just as tightly, neither of them caring that Taylor is getting blood from their hands and clothes onto Ingo. They don't care. Their plan worked, and they can also finally hold eachother properly. It takes immense strength for Taylor to pull away and keep themself from crying, and look Ingo up in the eyes. They are still obviously shaken, but there is a determined look in their gaze. It sends shivers down Ingo’s spine.
“We aren't done though. Now we have to actually try and get out.”
This part will be the hardest yet. They have no idea what the facility looks like outside their prison, how many people there are and where the exits is. Now, they will have to act without any plan, with only plate shards as weapons.
Ingo nods when Taylor says that they aren't done as of yet, and he then stares with a similar determined expression right back at them. “We just need to find a way out. It can't be that hard to do, right?”
He looks around the room, then focuses back on Taylor. He feels that he's still trembling, just like them. “What do you suggest we do first?”
“Let's go out quietly and try to sneak around without getting into unneeded confrontation.”
Taylor sighs and looks down at the bloody piece of plate in their hand. The odds are not in their favor at all. Now the chances of them dying are so high, it would be a miracle if they actually escape somehow. They look up at Ingo again.
“Let's try our best. If we don't survive… I'm happy we tried to break out anyway.”
They wrap their arms around Ingo again, bringing him into another hug. They've been separated by a concrete wall the whole time they've known eachother, it's hard to let go, knowing they might not survive in the end and hug one more time. Ingo reciprocates the hug. He feels the same way.
“If we don't survive… I'm glad to have met you, Taylor. I don't want to die… But… At least I've gotten you as a friend by my side for the whole journey.”
Their hug ends again, and he stares out towards the entrance of the room, where the hallway that leads to the rest of the building is probably waiting for them. Taylor nods, and after a bit longer, they let eachother go and sneak over to the open door, where the bright light of the facility is coming from. They both take another moment to take a breath, before peeking out and leaving their holding room, hand in hand, to calm eachothers nerves.