Enter a dog with a curious nose. His eyes study this place. There's nothing grand about this workshop. It's a simple place. There's a strange device with an unfamiliar logo. Even if he were a different sort of creature, he wouldn't recognize the Silph logo or notice it isn't present.[break]
Instead, he turns back to the spare parts. While his partner fiddles with the centerpiece, he starts to rummage for parts. The solution has to be here. With an animal's eye, he starts to pull out pieces. Many are wrong. However, intuition steers him right eventually. Whitey has all sorts of appliances laid before him. Some of them will work if slotted in the right place.[break]
"Try it. Not like this place can kill us.

"This shit's weird." He repeats that phrase nonstop. It's his mantra here in the strange simulated world. "Couldn't agree more, Whitey. Let's go." Standing up, he's tempted to run a knife through the device. Hands in his pocket, he kicks his feet and walks, step by step.[break]
"Yo, if you could say anything to those clowns in the dark triad, what would it be? This guy makes it sound like they're listening. Personally, I'd tell 'em the same shit I'd say to Mr. Summer. Knock it off with this mysterious act! They're not impressing anybody."

He's been in this glade more than anywhere else in this simulated world. He's seen both ways this script will play out. There's nothing more for him to see here and he just showed up. They're late to the party.[break]
"They're not gonna care what we have to say when we see 'em there." The dog muses. "Well...not one on one. You know how it goes. There'll be a hundred of us fighting 'em. Nothing any of us say'll matter. We'll just have to fight 'em. Kill 'em." And with their death, he hopes he can find peace.[break]
"This tree has somethin' to do with the big guy's deer. Least that's what I can make out of it. I'unno. Not really my job to know shit. I just kill whoever needs killing." His tone is resigned where once it was neutral, even chipper.[break][break]
"Let's just water the tree." Throwing out a pokeball, his Samurott sprays water along the tree's base. He already sees the beginning of depetrification.

"I met this kid once," Hitoshi says impassively as the tree blooms with new life, "he had this one Pokemon. Not Pikachu, but one of the other little rats like it. He'd put it on a wheel and watch it run for hours and hours. Looked like a hell of a workout. That's what it feels like we're doing in here. Chasing our own tails. Chasing a carrot on a stick. Whatever we're supposed to see in here, someone else saw the day Widow's Peak invented this machine." Cynical words, words he would have never thought to say before Galar. Maybe it's a cruel epithet to give Kaname Fujihara, but it's not like he'll ever know.[break]
Turning, he walks out of the glade. They'll end up somewhere new. This is a decent way to make a living. It takes away from his time in the casino, but the guards under him will do just fine.[break]
"Say, you do security, yeah? Want a steady gig?"

"I'm head of security at the casino in town. Yumi took it over after the last guy flew the coup. Guess she figured since I'm so good at keepin' her safe, I can keep all her money safe. Heh, I sniff out a lot of guys tryin' to cheat at the tables. They all use the same tricks. Travel's nice, but you don't gotta be paid under the table or off the books if you work for us. Besides, we're always in here anyway." His clogs start to clang off the metallic floor. He thinks he knows where this is going. Looks like this might not stay a stroll for very long.[break]
"Heads up, I think we're gonna fight somethin' soon."