"Ladies and gentlemen, we got 'em."

That was the first sound I became cognizant of upon awakening from my slumber. Precisely how long I had been sleeping was anyone's guess. It could have been a few hours, or it could have been many hours.

Judging from the stiffness in my joints, it was likely closer to the latter end of the spectrum.

I tried to move my legs to stretch them out - it had clearly been a long time since they'd seen any activity. If I did that, my mind told me, maybe I would feel better.

Well, my legs just wouldn't cooperate with my brain's commands. It was as though they'd been frozen in carbonite like Han Solo - and my guess is that that's a painful substance to fall out of.

"It'll hurt for a while," an unnamed man muttered. "They're going to feel that in the morning."

"Uh, I think that'll hurt right now" the other voice stated. "Whatever you gave them to put them out was pretty strong."

So I've been drugged. Great. That's just amazing!

In case you couldn't tell, that was sarcasm. People always told me I needed to get better at recognizing sarcasm when it was used by others, but that didn't make it hurt any less when other people used it so that I'd make a fool out of myself.

"Also," the previous voice pointed out, "there's hardly such a thing as morning here, is there?"

"Good point, bro," the other man said with a chuckle.

So these two people - I guess they're both men, judging by their voices - are brothers. Or at least, they're close enough to one another that they're willing to act like brothers. Yes, that makes sense.

As the "brain fog" from the drug began to dissipate, I became aware of the fact that every muscle in my body felt as though it had been pounded with a sledgehammer. There were probably bruises upon bruises all over my formerly-sleeping form.

"One of them became a Shinx," the other voice muttered. "He seemed pretty stoic about everything, considering the circumstances. He didn't move at all in his sleep."

Became a…what now?

There was one word he'd said that didn't compute. As much as I might have loved for it to make sense, it didn't, simply because it couldn't be true. Shinx did not exist.

"The other one," the same voice continued with a chuckle, "is an Eevee now."

An Eevee. That's pretty unmistakable, isn't it?

Still I doubted it. This was just a dream, because those species weren't real. They couldn't be real - as much as I loved to fantasize about some things, I also knew when to acknowledge that the fantasies couldn't possibly come true.

"The Eevee seems to have made a puddle on the carriage" the other voice muttered. "We'll have to clean that up before we transport the next travelers to the station."

Station? Like a train station? Where are they taking me? Or us, rather, since there seems to be another one in here?

"Ugh…" came a moan from beside me. Though the voice was far weaker than usual, and something else sounded off about it too, I would have recognized it even on Mars.

"Matty?" I wondered aloud.

"That's odd…I drank a lot of water before bed…and now…" said the voice beside me in the carriage.

"That's what'll happen when you're scared" I told my brother. "Don't worry about it - I'm scared too."

"But did you…as well?" Matty replied. Clearly, he didn't want to admit what he'd accidentally done in his sleep. It was the sort of thing that only happened to small children, after all, and at his current age, Matty wanted to prove that he was ready for adulthood. Who doesn't?

"No," I replied. "I didn't."

"Shut up, both of you!" barked one of the men in front of us.

Opening my eyes, I "saw" that, to my horror, I couldn't see a thing. The weight in front of my nose suggested that I'd been blindfolded, just like what happens in those crime shows in which someone gets kidnapped and locked in the back of a truck.

I tried to remember what to do if one found oneself in this situation. You were supposed to look for your phone, weren't you, and then call 911? I dunno, there's something about actually being in an emergency situation that makes you forget what to do.

"If you've got any fantasies about rescue," the other voice from the front snarled, "you might as well toss them aside right now. There's no cell service down here - in fact, there's no service at all that you're used to on the surface."

"What do you mean, on the surface?" I bellowed.

"It doesn't fucking matter, you idiot!" the other man exclaimed. "You're not going to find out the truth until it's time!"

"We deserve to know where we're going" I said, trying to project nonchalance. In reality, my heart was hammering out of my chest (which, for some reason, felt smaller than usual.)

"Well, you aren't going to know! But we're almost there, so keep quiet and be patient!"

If they do anything to me, I realized, I'll be unable to protect Matty.

He doesn't need to be protected! He's probably not as scared as you are!

Uh, the puddle on the carriage floor would beg to differ.

"Whatever" I muttered at my own internal monologue. Luckily, no response came from the front of the carriage.

The minutes passed at a glacial pace as I heard what sounded like hooves plodding against a cobblestone road. They reminded me of those horse-drawn carriages they had in downtown Boston sometimes, carrying tourists around the historical parts of the city. (Those, by the way, were a tourist trap that real New Englanders never paid for.)

During the ride, I had ample time to ponder several questions:

Where are we?

How did we get here?

What's going to happen to us?

Those were simple questions, to be sure; clichés, if you will. But I doubted there would be any easy answers for Matty or I.

"Here we are," one of the men driving the carriage muttered. "You'd better lift them out of the cart."

"Maybe put piss pads under the passengers next time," the other man suggested. "That way the coach won't get ruined again."

I could practically hear Matty blush at that quip. For my brother, it probably wasn't funny at all.

After that, I felt myself get unceremoniously lifted out of the carriage and dropped painfully onto a hard surface. The wind was knocked out of my four-legged body.

Wait…four legs?

That's right. He said I'm a Shinx. But that can't be right, can it? Shinx doesn't exist!

I groaned, and I heard my brother do the same. Eventually I felt the blindfold be ripped away from my eyes, and I blinked, expecting to be assaulted by bright light.

There was none.

In fact, the blindfold made little difference. If not for the ghostly white lanterns I could see about fifty yards away, you could have convinced me that I'd lost my vision completely.

"We'll get some Nature's Miracle for the cart, and put pads down next time. Now let's lead the passengers to the station."

"Station?" I rasped, realizing for the first time just how dry my mouth felt. "What did we do?"

"It doesn't matter."

"I think I have a right to know what I've been accused of," I shot back, albeit weakly. "Isn't that one of the amendments on the Bill of Rights?"

"The Bill of Rights doesn't matter here, kid" a hooded figure standing over me muttered. "Down here, it's kill or be killed. Or we'll spare you if you are on your best behavior. Sink or swim, it's your choice."

"What is this, Undertale?" I enquired, trying for a joke. But it fell flat, and why shouldn't it have? I should have realized there was no room for levity in this situation.

"We do not speak of that here" the hooded figure muttered. (I couldn't tell if he was one of the same men who had transported us in the cart.)

"So where are we going?" I asked.

"Shinx - ".

"I have a name, you know. It's Owen. Owen Tendai."

"Your surface name doesn't matter, kid" the hooded man shot back at me. "In fact, nothing else matters except this moment. Will you go back to the surface, crying for Mommy? Or will you face the music like a real Shinx?"

"But I don't understand? What's even going on here?"

"Walk to the station," the hooded guy muttered, "and Mayor Buckle will explain it to you. And be quick, because you don't want to make him wait."