They come at night.

After dusk has crept into streets already faintly abuzz with Halloween’s approach, after the moon has shown her waning face amongst stars twinkling in the dark sky, and after the people of Johto and Kanto have sought out their beds to get some well-deserved rest -- that’s when they come.

They don’t come with any fanfare -- there are no bright lights in the sky, no strange patterns burned into fields of wheat. There are no noises, no sounds other than those that ordinarily whisper through the night. There is no change to the background music when they come, as there would be in the movies.

Instead, the visitors from outer space (probably?) appear silently inside bedrooms all over the region. They hover above people nestled in their beds before reaching out their odd, three-fingered hands for a cheek, a forehead--and for a moment, as they make contact, lights pulse along their odd fingers. Then, as swiftly and as silently as they had come, they are gone.

Almost like they were never here at all.