[It is happening again. It is happening again.]

[Wrong canon. France has never seen The Giant, although he would probably confuse him with Goliath more than anything else. And, characteristically, that would make France return to his roots and completely freak out.]

[Still, it has some relevance here. The 'Gear seems to be picking up flashes of different cities and towns around Johto and Kanto, like someone is teleporting from one to the next without any real goal or direction.]

[After what amount to a few hours of this, the transmission seems to shutter, like the 'Gear has been fumbled, and panting becomes audible as the camera is turned to focus on a very wind-swept France whose expression is a strange combination of badly suppressed tension and far too much excitement.]

Has anyone ever noticed that all the towns around here look exactly the same? They have exactly the same shops and exactly the same standard layouts, just with some superficial topographical variations! I've noticed before, of course, but when you see them all together -

[He makes a wide, wild gesticulating motion with his free hand, unable to communicate how unsettling it is. Sure, France has planned cities, but nowhere is entirely planned like this.]

Also, what is with these crystals? They're all over the place!

[Considering in the past instances of such events France has been dropped face-first from a great height, trapezed around the entirety of the world blooming naked, and, in one particularly memory (or non-memorable, depending on how you look at it) been trapped inside of a vending machine, waking up this late morning still in the bed he fell asleep in the night before is exceptionally tame.]

[Waking up in the bed he fell asleep in on top of a volcanic rock formation on Cinnabar Island instead of his Goldenrod Hotel room is exceptionally not quite so tame.]

[France palms on the 'Gear, which thankfully made the trip with him next to his pillow, the camera picking up bedhead, half-asleep panic, and the beginning of a sunburn due to sleeping the morning away in the hot tropical sun, oblivious. He blinks owlishly at the 'Gear, voice colored by sleep=addled dismay.]

What -?

[He catches sight of the pinkish state of his own face in the little feed screen, and his eyes widen comically in horror. Immediately, he moves to the side of the bed where he usually keeps his bag, only to find it gone--along with his sunscreen and any and all clothes.]

No.

No.

This is a nightmare!!!

[If it wasn't already obvious from the angle the camera has of the expanse of pale back now visible on the screen, France sleeps naked.]