"Pokémon Trainers. I come to you by the Holo Caster to make an important announcement. Listen well. Team Flare will revive the ultimate weapon, eliminate everyone who isn't in our group, and return the world to a beautiful, natural state. Unproductive fools are consuming our future... If nothing changes, the world will become ugly and conflicts will raze the land from end to end. I repeat. We will use the ultimate weapon and wipe the slate clean. I'm sorry, those of you who are not members of Team Flare, but this is adieu to you all."
Moments ago, Sycamore had been quietly typing away in his lab. Now, you could have heard a pin drop. The professor had been hoping, praying, that he would never hear such a thing, but had to admit to himself he expected them all along.
Sycamore flew to his feet and put on a coat, none of the usual aged afternoon weariness slowing him down. He said nothing, and thought too much, every fleeting regret and worry gnawing at his senses. Outside, the city sounds became a discordant crescendo of mass dismay, keeping only to the beat of Augustine's flying footsteps. The sirens of police, the whirring and roaring of frantic automobiles, and the singing of frightened wild Pokemon arranged themselves into a choir to serenade the Professor's quietly rushing mind. Would he get there in time? What would he say? Was he ready to die, or to put blood on his hands?
"Where are the kids?
Oh…"
He stopped in his tracks and swallowed hard when he realized where the children would likely be. Trevor and Tierno would be nearby, trying to save as many pokemon as possible. Serena, the young shining star, would be in the Labs or the HQ… and where she went, Calem and Shauna would follow.
"Charizard, let's fly, please."
A bright light flew to the sky just as the elevator doors closed, and Sycamore paced around the few square feet of darkness. He settled and heavily rested his head on the doors, braced to dash through them.
"Is this how I'm going to die? Am I really going to die today?" He had suppressed the concept of his own death for too long; now, as it surfaced, it surfaced slowly and in pieces. Sycamore's numb expression and cold hands reflected the imposing shadow of his own mortality. He still ran, his eyes still darted to each side, searching for Lysandre.
When he found him, he caught a glimpse of Serena's flight, just before she clipped around a corner. The wheezing body of defeated Yveltal shivered on the ground, and Lysandre was somberly facing the sky.
"I'm sorry, Lysandre," Sycamore started to say. He had begun to say that Lysandre deserved a future in the real world; he deserved better than to ultimately succeed. The Professor caught his own words when it struck him that Yveltal was no longer a piece of the puzzle. How, then, was the building rumbling, the weapon in full bloom above ground?
Lysandre jumped and took a deep breath. He had been bracing himself for anything but this.
"Augustine! Leave!" His resolve dissipated, replaced by a sudden weakness in the knees, not believing his eyes.
"Please-" Sycamore reached out to the lionheart. He had nothing more in his body or soul than the concentrated will to bring Lysandre to safety.
"Augustine!" Lysandre looked to the ceiling, shaking harder than ever, and knew it was too late. He took hold of Sycamore's shoulders as they fell over in the earthquake, putting himself between the falling boulders and his one rock in this world.
Sycamore embraced Lysandre, looking up at the death above them in the split seconds they had left.
"I wanted so much better for you in this world," the Professor thought.
"I wanted so much better for you in my world," thought the other.
At least they died together.