4:30 P.M. on the nose. The train from Driftveil arrived right on schedule. No surprise there; the Battle Subway was extremely efficient and amazingly punctual. Gear Station was the train's last stop, and as passengers disembarked, Ingo stood by ready to perform a quick check on the vehicle, just to ensure that everyone was off before it went out to make its rounds over again. As the last person stepped off, Ingo asked a Depot Agent that waited beside him to ensure that no one would attempt to board. The employee nodded in acknowledgement and faithfully stayed with the train as Ingo disappeared into the belly of the beast.

This will only take a minute.

The Subway Boss first checked the cab, wanting to make sure all was in order. He visually noted everything his eyes landed on. And as nothing appeared out of the ordinary, he mentally praised the condition of the ATO console. He proceeded through the passenger cars, glancing at every single thing and registering the condition of each. As long as everything looked acceptable to him, he was comfortable with his brief examinations. When full maintenance would arrive, he'd be sure to double-check—even triple-check—absolutely everything. That day was near, and he was fully aware that he could put off any minor inspections until then; but, really, he knew himself better than that.

So far Ingo was pleased with the condition of the passenger cars. Nothing was left behind, nothing was horribly damaged or broken, save for some scuff marks here and there and some torn up fabric on the seats. Nearing the end of the vehicle, he was genuinely amazed when he spotted a fellow human sitting all on his lonesome, sleeping soundly. This would definitely not take a minute.

From the person's appearance, Ingo gathered that he was not coming from or going to any sort of job. The man might've slept through the entire trip, which seemed very plausible. He had no bags or luggage with him, either, so he was traveling light. Ingo could only assume that this man was at a low point in his life and had nothing else but to go from one city to the next to try his luck. The man's clothes were dirtied and his shoes looked worn-out, just as his face did. Upon closer examination, he was even drooling as he slept sitting, and there was the faintest smell of alcohol. There was nothing to do but to wake the fellow.

Ingo had no way of knowing how the stranger would react, but that was an inferior thought. Still, he wondered how long this man had been traveling on this train… and why no one was nice enough to let him know that it had arrived at the station. Ingo bent down slightly to not startle the man when he stirred. He gently rocked him, urging him to wake up with a soft, friendly voice. "Sir, everybody has gotten off the train already."

The man groaned as he regained consciousness. He was groggy, but noticed Ingo standing beside him, saying something about getting off the train. "Uhh… I'll get off when I'm good an' ready," he replied with something like a growl. He seemed to be in some sort of discomfort, holding his head and looking rather sickly. It wasn't only exhaustion Ingo was seeing. This man was clearly drunk.

Another bad attitude, Ingo observed silently. He would have to put up with this stranger if he wanted to help him. "Are you feeling well?" the Subway Boss asked simply out of kindness. "I can help you find a clinic if you feel you may need one."

"Look, why don't y'mind your own business?" the other retorted, quite impatiently. He sat there, looking at Ingo, with a kind of nasty gleam in his glassy eyes.

It was all too apparent to Ingo, and suddenly he felt extremely uncomfortable in the man's presence. As much as he tried to conceal it, his discomfort was showing. "Sir? I'm sorry, I beg your pardon. I only want to help you. You understand that it is part of my job." He straightened himself out and increased the distance between them ever so slightly. "This is the last stop, so you have to leave."

The stranger broke eye contact at that point. He appeared distant, as if his thoughts were concentrated on something else, but Ingo didn't try to get back his attention. "Tch. You guys're all the same… every last one o' ya." His drunken slurs did not shake the Subway Boss. He was used to being told much worse, and he brushed off the man's rambling knowing full well that his intoxication had much, if not everything, to do with it.

"Sir, I—"

"If y'really wanna help me out, go away. "

There appeared to be no reasoning with him. How in the world could Ingo persuade him to get off the train? Surely he couldn't resort to force. He never had to. Ingo found it hard to keep his cool with his authority being defied by a wandering drunkard, and he remembered he had countless other things to attend to. Simply put, he did not have the time to negotiate with someone who was not in their right mind.

"I'm afraid I can't let you stay here like this…" The concern in Ingo's voice meant nothing to the stranger, who kept his gaze down.

He said nothing, nor did Ingo. He was honestly expecting to hear full blown insults next, but rather than that he noticed the shabby male tucking his hand in his jacket. In spite of himself, Ingo wanted to plead with him to get a move on, but when he caught sight of the metallic object in the man's hand, his breath left him. His eyes widened as they tracked each motion the blade made, right up to the moment it reached his body and plunged into his once-unscathed flesh. His primal instincts took over every corner of his mind, but rather than help him fight back, they slowed him down and allowed him to receive a fatal puncture. The tip of the blade sank ever deeper into him, but the pain that spread throughout his body was overwhelming; he could not make a single sound in his distress.

The ruffian stood, putting more effort into his attack to make sure Ingo would not have a chance of surviving it. Ingo could see red emerging in his blurred vision, and knew it belonged to him. It spread out from the epicenter of the wound, tarnishing his pristine clothes and fouling the air with its coppery scent. He was so deep in shock that he failed to struggle, to scramble to get away. The pain that his brain registered left him helpless, but he suddenly found the strength to let out a cry. It was an almost animalistic sound, like something a Pokémon would make in a similar situation, but this small exertion added more fuel to the fire that raged in his chest. His legs gave out and he was pushed back on the nearest seat. He had not the strength to get up.

Upon Ingo falling back, the man removed his weapon from the newly formed cavity in Ingo's chest and made a mad dash for the doors. Little did he know that a Depot Agent was standing right by them, and had likely heard the scream.

Ingo covered his wound, smearing his white gloves with the fluid that gave him life. Now it was pouring out of him, leaving him for dead. His chest heaved as he struggled to take in as much air as possible, but that pained him even more. Every single thing he did brought him more misery and he felt that none of it would save him. Already his life was draining away with each drop of blood that trickled onto the floor of the passenger car and the seat he had plastered himself on. He could faintly hear a commotion outside; a rushing of feet and distressed exclamations. They were getting louder, obviously on their way to him to fight off Death. All to no avail, of course. Ingo was feeling weak—far too weak to even notice the stinging and burning anymore. Everything in his sight was a mix of grays and reds, all blurred together. The light in him was flickering, about to go out completely.

Emmet…

"Boss!"

The younger Subway Boss was halted in his tracks when an employee called out to him. He turned to face the Depot Agent who had come running behind him with a smile. "What is it?"

"It's about your brother! There's been an incident!" explained the employee. He was frantic, trying to piece together the information he had to give to his superior. "Apparently he encountered an armed passenger!"

"What?"

"They found him and arrested him right away, but he had already wounded your brother…"

The smile on Emmet's face had disappeared upon hearing the news. It came as such a shock to him that it was almost unbelievable. The look on his face suggested disbelief, in fact, since he couldn't bring himself to accept what he was being told. He was unresponsive and his silent reaction prompted the Depot Agent to tell him more.

"No one else was on the train. No one could have helped… and apparently his wound was fatal. I'm really sorry, Boss…"

"What do you mean 'was'?" Emmet's eyes widened as he realized what the result of all this was. "Where is he?!"

"They rushed him to the hospital, sir! But…" the youngster was hesitant to continue, yet he forced himself to tell his boss the rest; "…he had gone before they could do anything."

Without a word, Emmet left the Depot Agent and ran to the crime scene, mindlessly pushing others out of his way. When he arrived he was met with a mass of onlookers, employees, and policemen. His heart sank further when he saw how serious the incident had actually been. He approached the blocked off area and demanded entrance into the train. As reluctant as the police officers were about letting him aboard, his determination—and the fact that he was partly in charge of the station and related to the victim—convinced them that it would be fair to let him take a look.

Emmet went inside and breezed through the cars until he reached the one that mattered. He was left speechless, even numb, when his eyes took in the sight of the disturbingly fresh blood that was collected on one of the seats. He noticed blood on the floor as well, but did not mind to avoid it. He stepped closer still to where he figured his brother had previously been sitting in unforgivable agony. He could already picture his brother there, dying, and the fear that was likely on his face at the time.

This was far too much for Emmet to take. He merely stood, frozen in place, staring at the blood that had settled in the fabric. It was the last of Ingo, the only thing he left behind. He had gone so unfairly, he couldn't even say goodbye to the one person who deserved to see him one final time.

"According to recent reports, an incident involving one of the Subway Bosses of the Battle Subway took place this morning. An armed passenger under the influence apparently stabbed him in the chest and attempted to flee, but other subway personnel apprehended the man and he was quickly taken in by the police. Unfortunately, the wound sustained by the Subway Boss was fatal and brought him to his untimely death. Operation of the Single Line has been halted until further notice."