Part 2

"Allegedly new species of small aquatic Pokémon captured on camera offshore by amateur photographer: a relation to Wailmer and Wailord?"

"Rumors of a new teleporting technology allowing instant access to Sinnoh? Impossible for now, top scientists say: 'There are concerns about becoming 'pixelated' while traveling.'"

"It's no lie! Camp Café's curry dishes are outselling everything else! One curry dish for 50% off or more! Limited time only!"

"Wow. To think things have changed since then. It's ridiculous," Parsons muttered as he looked at his phone's screen. For minutes, he had been skimming over article titles on the PokéBuzz app on his phone, though none of them caught his interest. He sighed, closed the app, uninstalled it, then turned his attention instead to the sights outside of the cab he was riding in.

"Oh, yeah? I agree with you there." It was the taxi cab driver overhearing him, the same one from last night.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I mean, look at the kids these days. They think they've got all they have in this world right now, but they haven't seen what the past's got too."

"Mm-hm."

"Y'know, you kinda look familiar, but I didn't even get a chance to catch your name. What is it, by the way?"

"It's Parsons—"

There was a loud screech, and the cab jerked violently. Luckily the traffic light was red, because the driver suddenly turned around in his seat and stared at Parsons, his jaw slack with surprise.

"Wait a minute… you're the Rodger Kenneth Parsons? The one that's also called Mr. Narrator?"

Parsons nodded simply. "Yes."

"Why didn't you say so?"

Parsons sighed. "I don't like to draw attention to myself these days, so, please… "

The driver's face fell, and then he looked away. "Oh, oh right. You're retired. And after that whole thing with GS, too." He turned to face forward in his seat, and the cab began to move again.

Just hearing the name GS, or Go Stadiums as it was also called, was painful for Parsons, for he had bad memories of it, especially during his last days on the job. Years ago, he and the other members of the small tournament organizing company had been laid off when it was declared that they were soon going out of business. However, that wasn't completely true: in reality, GS had a few so-called "disputes and disagreements" with another, larger company, and at some point, they lost against them and were essentially kicked out. Almost everyone in GS didn't know about it then, but even when the real reason behind the mass layoff was revealed a few days after it had actually happened, there was a general sense of disappointment.

A disappointment that had continued to haunt him since.


He was sitting in a chair in his room, resting his head on his desk when his young son opened the door.

"What's wrong, Dad?"

"I got laid off."

"Laid off?"

"It means… that I'm not going to work at GS for a while."

"Is it going to be forever?"

"I hope not."

The truth was, he didn't know when he and the others were going to be brought back into the company, as the CEO refused to tell anyone anything else except that GS was "going out of business," but promised everyone that things will turn out okay, maybe even for the better. But why? It's not like they were bankrupt, right? And to think that things were going so well: occasionally he participated in a few battles (mostly to demonstrate for new tournament participants; he wasn't that great) and had a stable position as one of the announcers, so the idea of GS suddenly going bankrupt was crazy.

He laughed quietly to himself. It was just a bad dream, something not worth worrying about, which meant that he could just go to sleep and wake up to find that he still had his job. Still had what was considered a part of his family's livelihood.

What he didn't know at that time was that in the following few days, he will be proven wrong, and that he and everyone else will be left to find work elsewhere in even smaller and virtually unknown settings.


"… All right, Sunny Park."

What did the driver say?

"Hey, are you okay? You seemed to have blanked out a bit over there."

Parsons blinked, and then nodded at the driver, who was looking at him with concern. Of course he was okay—he wasn't hurt or anything.

"Anyway, we're here at Sunny Park, so that's… hm, 1,000 Poké Dollars, please."

After paying for his fare, Parsons opened his door and stepped onto the sidewalk with a small, black duffle bag in his hand. He closed the door behind him, but before he could head off, he saw the driver rolling down his window.

"Well, it was nice meeting you, Mr. Parsons. I hope you get to find what you're looking for here, even though it seems a bit fishy, based on what you told me earlier. Good luck, though."

He nodded at the driver. "Yeah."

The driver nodded back and rolled up the window, followed by the cab driving off into the busy afternoon streets of Pokétopia. Parsons faced the park again and walked on the dirt path.

He looked all around Sunny Park. Surrounding the dirt path he was walking on was a great expanse of neatly cut grass and trees that seemed to extend for what looked like half a mile, with people and Pokémon walking and playing side-by-side. A few, towering Ferris wheels also populated the area, while gondolas glided smoothly on guided cables that went past a tall building colored blue, white, and pink—the so-called match-viewing building. There were also a few fountains topped with large replicas of Poké Balls and bushes that dotted a particular part of one side of the path, right in front of the building. There was no doubt about it: he was standing before Sunny Park Colosseum, where people, especially families, gathered to watch matches from the sidelines and treehouses nearby. Or at least, that's what it was like years ago; the Park and the Colosseum were more like popular hangout spots and tourist attractions these days, with the few battles that occurred here being brief sideshows rather than tournament events.

He shook his head. Never mind about the Colosseum, he had to find the sender, or rather, the senders of that letter. But where would he begin looking? Sunny Park was a large open area, and there were quite a few people going about here too. Not helping matters further were the letter's vague instructions, which told him to find a group of five people somewhere within the Park. Maybe he could start by asking the park goers if they saw anything unusual.

But then again, who was he kidding? He was, after all, trying to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to himself. Of course, only those who remembered the peak tournament days and were very knowledgeable about the GS tournaments would most likely recognize him and the others who worked on organizing the tournaments. Well, it's best to keep quiet then.

He started toward the match-viewing building by walking across the circular battlefield, looking away a few times whenever someone looked in his direction. At least no one tried to follow him or get his autograph or whatever fans typically do whenever they see their favorite celebrity. He smiled to himself: truly wonderful were the benefits of being virtually washed-up and unrecognizable by the majority of the public these days.

When he approached the doors of the match-viewing building, they automatically opened inward, allowing him to easily walk into a large space filled with people and Pokémon sitting in tables, eating to their hearts' content and enjoying themselves. So it was also renovated as a food court and hangout area… huh. Clearly, a lot has changed since the last time he was here.

And now to find the senders of that letter. A group of five individuals… just who could they be? He looked at the people and Pokémon at the tables, as well as those waiting in lines leading to the few food vendors located at the opposite end from where he stood. But no matter how thoroughly he looked, he couldn't pick out anyone that would fit the vague description. Five individuals could mean many things, after all.

Maybe he can put off the search for a bit. It was around noon, and he could make do with a quick lunch. He made his way past the tables toward a line leading up to a counter selling ramen noodles, then waited, looking at the menu posted on the back wall. Which to pick…

"Excuse me, but do you happen to know someone who goes by the name Parsons?"

It was a low voice that sounded a bit like a growl. Who was that, and where did it come from?

"I'm sorry. Look behind you."

He turned around. It was a somewhat small and predominantly blue-furred creature, save for its cream-colored torso, which had a short spike jutting out of the chest. Red eyes from a canine-like face stared back at him.

A Lucario. Wait—was a Lucario—

"Were you—Did you… just talk?"

A shrug of the shoulders, then Parsons heard the same voice again: "Telepathy, but that doesn't matter now. I will ask you again: do you know someone named Parsons?"

"Yes," he answered. Why would a Lucario want to know about him anyway? This was getting to be suspicious, but the Lucario didn't ask any more questions and just nodded.

"Then follow me."

There's no way that he was going to follow a random Pokémon. For all he knew, this Lucario probably had ulterior motives. Or maybe someone else did. As Parsons stayed in line and watched the Lucario walk into the dining space, he saw him stop in his tracks. Some of the diners looked up from their meals, curious about what was happening between him and the Lucario.

"What are you waiting for? I insist that you follow me."

He sighed, then left the queue to follow the Lucario, who appeared to be leading him back toward the entrance.

"All right, what is this about?"

"Do you know if anyone in this city received a letter recently?"

"What letter?"

"You said that you know the human known as Parsons. If so, you should know which letter I'm referring to."

Wait. Was the Lucario referring to that letter? The one that told him to come to Sunny Park and vanished into thin air? Did he send it to him? No, that would be silly; as far as he knew, Pokémon can't write… can they?

"Well… yes? Yes, I think I do know about the letter. I think."

The Lucario looked over his shoulder and closed his eyes. When he did so, the four aura sensors at the back of his head rose slightly. "You seem to be confused and skeptical. I wouldn't worry, though. You'll have your questions answered soon."

Parsons sighed. It already looked ridiculous for a human to be conversing with a Pokémon that communicated through telepathy while walking through a food court, judging by the way people stopped eating and stared at them.

"Can we continue this later? You're making a scene."

There was a sound like an annoyed "Hmph," but at least they stopped talking. For now.


They were almost near the entrance of the building when Lucario led him into one of the elevators. Once they were inside, Lucario pressed a button to the fourth floor, and the elevator closed and began to ascend. For a while, there was an awkward silence between them.

"You know, this is all just a mistake," Parsons said. "Why did I get that letter? Was it meant for someone else?"

"Hm. I cannot tell if you're the right recipient. That is a question only the Hands can fully answer."

"The… Hands?"

"I'm one of their… associates, along with many others. The Smashers, as we're often called."

The Smashers? Sounded like a superhero team from one of those movies or TV shows everyone seemed to be watching nowadays. This was getting crazier by the minute, but from the look of Lucario's steady gaze, this was a rather serious situation.

The elevator door opened, and they stepped out onto the fourth floor. Unlike the first floor, it was a mostly empty circular space with a large and clear dome ceiling. Aligning the circumference of the space were potted plants, while a few tables and chairs were arranged in clusters in the middle of the tiled floor. They walked toward the only occupied table, which had four people sitting in chairs before a small pile of take-out boxes and containers.

"I've never had this… ramen before, admittedly."

"Yeah, it's very different from Ylisse, but it's great!"

Ylisse? What in the Distortion World was that?

One of them, a young woman, looked up from her meal. "Oh? I think Lucario's brought the recipient of the letter both of you have sent, Master Hand and Crazy Hand."

Lucario nodded at her, then looked at Parsons. "These are Master Hand, Crazy Hand, and the Robins, although the young man over there also goes by the name Reflet to avoid confusion."

The group was made up of some of the most unusually dressed people Parsons had ever seen. Both the Robins—or rather, Robin and Reflet—were a young woman and a young man respectively who wore dark hooded long coats with gold accents and strange symbols of eyes adorning the sleeves. The other two, Master Hand and Crazy Hand (who goes by those names?), wore pristine white suits with black ties that had the same circular symbol as the wax seal on the letter, albeit grey with black intersecting lines. But one of the weirdest things about them, or maybe it was just a coincidence, was that all of them had white hair. Did they recently just come from one of those fan conventions?

Master Hand, the oldest-looking man in the group, stood up from his seat. "So, you're the one who received one of our letters, correct?"

"Well, yes?"

Master Hand frowned, then rested his chin on his gloved right hand. Strangely, he didn't have one on his left hand. "Lucario, this isn't the correct recipient of the letter Crazy Hand and I sent a few days ago."

"Sir, this man knows Parsons."

"Actually, I am Parsons. Rodger Kenneth Parsons, though I have no idea what's going on, why I'm brought here, and who ANY of you are. If this is all just a mistake or mix-up or publicity stunt, I'd like to know right now, because I'd hate to waste my time getting into a more ridiculous situation than the one I got myself into recently."

"Give it up, bro," the man named Crazy Hand groaned. "So we've got the wrong one. Let's just go and pick someone else."

Crazy Hand was his brother? Now he had seen everything. But what did Crazy Hand mean, "the wrong one?" The wrong one for what?

"I'd hold off on following your suggestion for now, Crazy," Master Hand said. "It seems that there's more to this situation than I first thought."

"Master Hand, what are you thinking?" Reflet asked.

Master Hand didn't answer. Instead, he sat back down and motioned Parsons and Lucario toward the table. Parsons sat on the chair opposite of him and Crazy Hand, while Lucario remained standing by his side.

"Before we go any further, did you bring any Pokémon with you, Parsons?"

"Why?"

"Though I am somewhat disappointed at how things have turned out so far, I think it's also… salvageable."

Salvageable? What did that mean? The idea of the situation being salvageable must have been on everyone else's minds, because everyone then gave Master Hand a look of confusion.

"I'm just asking a simple question. Now, let me say this again: do you have any Pokémon with you?"

Hesitating, Parsons reached for his bag and removed a Poké Ball, then opened it to release Greninja, who materialized on the floor and looked around in confusion. Master Hand nodded once in what seemed to be approval.

"Hm… this was a surprise. But never mind that. The more important matter at—you know—is that you were instructed to come here by that letter. We're also sure that you're confused as to what's going on, so feel free to ask any of us away."

For a while, Parsons remained silent. There were a few things that he could do: one, he could simply stand up, walk away, and forget that any of this ever happened. The second option would be to stay and ask. Although the first was more sensible, the second also seemed to be the better choice, because he needed to know what was behind that letter and why it was delivered to his home.

But after asking Master Hand who he, Crazy Hand, and the Smashers were, leaving the group seemed to be the better (and perhaps saner) option.


*The articles at the beginning reference... ah, some of the problems in SwSh. Also to the speculations of Diamond/Pearl/Platinum remakes.

*Go Stadiums is a reference to Genius Sonority, who developed Colosseum, XD: Gale of Darkness, and Battle Revolution. Some things, such as the small number of employees, are based on the fact that Genius Sonority didn't have many people who worked on the aforementioned games and a few other things, while others, such as the lay-off and the lies, are partly fictional and partly based on some real-life problems of a certain other company.

*Sunny Park Colosseum was a Colusseum in PBR where you can participate in Little Battles ('mons must be level 5 or below) after beating it once. The descriptions of the building's interior, on the other hand, are made up by me.

*As far as I know, ramen isn't a part of Ylissean cuisine, but I think that it could be a part of Chon'sin cuisine since in some of Say'ri's support conversations she mentions tea, rice, and (implicitly) sushi.

*Speaking of food, the Hands actually do NOT need to consume any food or drink in order to live, even while in human form.