"I haven't worked on this for a while, and even though it was fun, I'm not sure what to do with it."

He glanced over to the screen, it had been several months a year since the first domino was pushed over the edge, and it had been several months since the incident occurred that led to his exile in limbo.

"I mean, I don't have to have them do A or B, do I? and I still want it to make sense."

He goes over what little notes he has, checking back and forth on the details, careful to not make any plot holes along the way.

"A Mercenary going into a world where 30% of their population has turned into Pokémon, Acknowledging the absurd fact that it sounds so bizarre and realistic that it could happen in your existence, knowing that these Creatures were humans, turned into by the hands of fate and a keyboard."

Refreshing the page, he remembers a quote he made up about the whole situation, as a way to poke fun at the whole premise of it while still keeping in character:

this is why you don't let your godly hands off the dimensional steering wheel of fate, stuff like this happens and it's a mess that we clean up.

- an inter-dimensional Mercenary commenting on the state of affairs, 2020

He clicks the down button on his computer, revelling in the complete uniquess? Scripting?

Nostalgia.

And for once… starts to crack a grin under his gas mask, proud of what he had done for himself.

"heh, this is interesting, it says here that from the supposed group that attacked our main character and his mercenary team, A Leafeon, Umbreon and Absol are specifically mentioned as part of the attacking group."

He scrolls down further.

"This is interesting, a man by the name of "James" is mentioned as the team scout, he gave valuable intel to the group before the untimely night attack, after watching his team die, he just wants a quiet life. Isn't that nice?"

As dry hands played throughout limbo, it was time for rest, he could feel nostalgic for another day.