Lysandre got out of bed at his usual time (7:45 a.m.) in a very foul mood. It was Monday, and Mondays always sucked. Lysandre, the boss of Team Flare, took his shower at his usual time (7:50 a.m.), and got dressed at his usual time (8:00 a.m.).
"Kat! Where's my Harley?!" he yelled into the hallway, at his usual time (8:01 a.m.).
"Stop that!" Lysandre said to me, at his usual time (8:02 a.m.)
"Right where it usually is, Sir!" Kat yelled.
"Oh, yeah. Forgot!" Lysandre said, slightly discombobulated. He hopped on his totally awesome motorcycle and zoomed down the hall. Some grunts jumped out of the way, avoiding the motorcycle. Lysandre drove through a concrete wall, which didn't hurt him or the motorcycle (because he was rich). Sections of shattered concrete hit many grunts, killing four and injuring six. He hopped off the bright orange Harley with leonine grace.
"Did anyone die?" he asked Kat.
"Oh yes. It killed four. What a shame. They were so young, but to be turned into orange flapjacks is just cruel." she sighed.
"Wow, new record. I should be a bowler." Lysandre said.
"What are you going to do today, Sir" Malva asked, sauntering over to Lysandre with no small swagger.
"Oh, I'm going to Snowpoint with Sycamore. He thinks he found the location of the Big Rock, but he doesn't know for sure." he said, smirking slightly.
Kat chuckled lightly. The Big Rock, as all Team Flare personnel knew, was in their custody.
TO BE CONTINUED...

Lysandre rode his Harley down the stairs (yes, all 94,031 of them) of the Team Flare building. Of course, he didn't get hurt (not even in the soft spots), because he was rich. When he finally got on the bottom floor, he rode his epic motorcycle all the way to the garages, where his limousine was parked. There it was. The sleek black limo with the Flare logo on the side. So beautiful....
Kat opened the door for him to get in, then got in the driver's seat, and started the car.
Lysandre pulled out his tablet, and unlocked it with his special, super secret password (1234), and started to look at memes. (Lysandre is a meme guy. Meme guys are cool.)
The limousine pulled out of the driveway, drove over to the house next door, and parked neatly.
Lysandre got out of the car, which cued smokescreens, orange laser lights, and a radio, which blared the song The Final Countdown by Europe.
Professor Sycamore stood in the snow, a Sawsbuck's frappuchino in hand, looking slightly annoyed.
"Mon amie, do you have to do that every time you get out of a car?" he asked.
"Yes. Yes I do." Lysandre said.
"Well, there's a Torchic-fil-a near by, I was wondering if you were hungry. I'm paying." the Professor said.
"All right! I could do with a Happy Meal!" Lysandre exclaimed.
"Lysandre, that's McDewgongald's." Sycamore said, burying his face in his hands.
"It's too cold to walk." Lysandre complained.
"Then how about we take your limo?"
"Um... No. You see, it will... Um... Explode on contact, because of the um.... Windshield wiper fluid." Lysandre stammered, not wanting the Professor to know his true identity as the leader of Team Flare.
"Well, let me check." Professor Sycamore walked over to the limo to inspect it.
"Pyroar, use Flamethrower on the gas tank." Lysandre whispered, letting out his pokemon.
Pyroar used the powerful Fire-type move on the car, making it explode before Sycamore could get close to it.
"Pyroar, return." Lysandre hurriedly stowed the pokeball back in his pocket.
"Sacre bleu, mon amie!!!" Sycamore said, moving a lock of his hair out of his eyes.
"See. Like I said, windshield wiper fluid." Lysandre shrugged.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Lysandre and Sycamore walked through the cold snowdrifts of Snowpoint City.
Finally after what seemed like a really long time, they arrived at Torchic-Fil-A. It was warm inside, and Lysandre had half the mind to roll on the floor and sing. (For reasons unknown)
Sycamore ordered a Torchicken sandwich with extra pickles, and Lysandre bought the whole store.

TO BE CONTINUED...

"I wonder who came up with the idea for the Torchicken Sandwich." Sycamore thought aloud, taking a bite out of the sandwich.
"I've been told that the inventor got the idea from seeing Torchic roadkill back in Hoenn. The said inventor picked up the Torchic, which smelled like the scorched rectum of Satan himself, slapped it between to pieces of bread, and ate it." Lysandre said thoughtfully. "I believe they haven't changed the recipe to this day."
"Ptttbbbbtttttbtbtt! Ugh!!! Disgusting!!!!" Sycamore cried, wiping off his tongue with a paper napkin. "I think we should've just gone to Kentucky Fried Combusken!" Sycamore choked.
"Nah. I heard that their Torchicken Legs aren't even Torchicken, but Rattata meat instead. And their Lemonade is really Ponyta urine...." Lysandre said.
"Where the heck do you even learn this??!!!" the Professor gagged.
"I own all the fast-food and chicken franchises in Kalos." Lysandre explained.
"If I get food poisoning..." Professor Sycamore threatened dangerously.
"...Then you wouldn't be the first." the redhead finished.

TO BE CONTINUED...

Suddenly, the door opened, and Kat, Lysandre's personal assistant, came in covered in ash.
"YOU BLOODY IDIOT!!!!" she roared. "YOU BLEW UP THE LIMOUSINE WITH ME IN IT!!!!"
"I swear to Arceus that I had nothing to do with it, nor did I attempt it. It was caused by the corrupt windshield wiper fluid." Lysandre said calmly.
Kat rolled her eyes. "Yeah right, and I'm a Mankey's uncle." She pushed her silvery-blue bangs out of her eyes, clearing her vision. "Windshield wiper fluid." she snorted, storming out of Torchic-fil-a, leaving a trail of ash in her wake.

"Wait, you blew up the limousine?" Sycamore asked confusedly.
"Nah. Kat has always been a bit paranoid. A bit being an understatement."
"Ah." Sycamore said knowledgeably
"So, tell me where you think the Big Rock is..."
TO BE CONTINUED...

Sycamore opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, a violent earthquake shook the building.
"EARTHQUAKE!!!! SHIELD ME!!!" Lysandre commanded. Suddenly, out of nowhere, fifty men in bright orange suits jumped on the billionaire.
After a while, the shaking stopped, but unfortunately, the building was covered in snow.
"Pokepuffs!" Lysandre said angrily. "I'm stuck in here with a bunch of poor people! I don't want to die surrounded by poor people!"
"Lysandre, mon amie, calm down." Augustine said, patting Lysandre's beautiful, spiky, orange hair in an awkward fashion.
"I CAN'T!!!" Lysandre wailed, completely losing it.
"LYSANDRE FULADARI! CALM YOUR TITS THIS INSTANT!!!" Professor Sycamore shouted, slapping him across the face.
Lysandre's face contorted with rage and he punched Sycamore with such force, he sent the Kalosian man flying into a booth (in a fashion only possible in the world of anime).
Sycamore sat up weakly. "Well," he said, wiping away a trickle of blood that flowed from his mouth, "You're calm."
TO BE CONTINUED