Note: Professor Sycamore here is not the canon Professor Sycamore. This was started before there was an actually Professor Sycamore. This is an assistant professor to one of the current pokemon professor that live in the region.

Story Time:

He tried to see them through the white wisps of his own 'hair' that clouded his vision without alerting his captors he was awake. Over the dull metal of the table's edge that barely reflected any light that leaked from the cold lamps above him he could see the psychic pokemon from before on the floor out cold, fainted from the images they were bombarded with the second they had entered his mind to enforce his obedience. Pausing, his mind idly drifted back and forth between the feelings of dread for them, their state of being stuck with these people and their physical condition, to indifference. As his line of thought faltered the sensation of his own body wavering came to him but he couldn't tell if the tremble in his body was physical. Trying to spur himself to focus again, he allowed himself to steal a larger breath from the stale air steeping in the chamber, releasing it with as little quivering as possible. Opening his eyes again he could see only two humans, both only partly in his range of vision. He would have to shift ever so slightly to see the two in their entirety from his position on the cold metal but that thought surged his instincts to the surface, urging him to flee here or drown them within their own fears. He would avoid their attention. Studying them, they seemed to be arguing and one appeared to be growing violent. At least in his hand gestures, the thought poked from beneath the surface. He strained to hear them but couldn't. The din from the ringing within his head was too lurid.

Suddenly surfacing into consciousness he nearly jerked but from his own weariness it was more of a flinch of his core muscles, a movement he now desperately hoped they didn't notice. He must have fainted, a feeling he remembered in full force he didn't like. (At all.) His glaze shifted to the side, thankfully hidden by soft white, where a flamboyant character was now speaking from the platform at the top of the stairs that hugged a far wall. The vibrant man, yelling and laughing as his face constantly twisted between a strange combination of joy and anger, but he didn't give off the right vibe. He delicately reached out with his psychic. There was something else . . . here, something that felt of an alarming cold.