Male, former fighter-type trainer, roommates with Marco

You'd tried to do the thing, live the dream with all your friends, but you just couldn't hack the trainer life. You hadn't felt so bad because none of your friends could hack it either. Of the hundreds of kids out there, most would realize the same sad truth, and those that didn't were still out there in the rookie leagues getting their asses handed to them by kids half their age. Now you were much... well... Much more jaded. Everything else was about the same but with less excitement and hope. Your only two friends who stuck around till now were your grade-school buddy Marco and your Machoke, Beeler. You'd been one of the burly trainers who believed in fighting-types while Marco had been more of a bug guy.

The latter watched you dubiously as you tried to convince the former to come with you to the meeting with Team Flare, "C'mon man, I need you in case this thing goes south." Marco gave you a worried look, pushing his glasses up his thin nose, "I thought you were interested in their cause?" You shrugged, "Yeah but this card is all the guy gave me, the whole thing is kinda sketch. I'm just sick of sitting around doing nothing in the prime of my life you know?" That one hit home for both of you and it didn't take long for Marco to cave. Beeler was less sure, "MaChoke, **** c'****?" You groaned, "You said you'd stop bringing that up! I fell for that scam like five years ago and I'm a lot wiser now." Beeler held up one of his fingers, "All right, fine! One year ago! Point still stands!"

In the end he agreed to come but only as backup. He'd hang back while you and Marco went in to talk. You were feeling a lot less sure of yourself as you and Marco walked up to the warehouse door, knocking loudly and looking around nervously. The door opened almost immediately, revealing inky darkness and the two of you walked inside...

Two hours later you stagger out of the warehouse with Marco and hobble to the car, Beeler rushing up to help you. You don't really remember what you'd been doing in there, it was all a blur of shapes and people. But you know it went well and that nothing bad had happened, which you use to reassure Beeler. It was really weird that you couldn't remember though, "Hey Marco, what the hell happened in there?" Marco slid up the seat into a sitting position like it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to coordinate, still blinking dazedly, "Woman? Talking? Flare?" The words struck chords in your brain but you still couldn't recall what they linked to. You drove home feeling uncertain but pleased: you were clutching a paper with the next meeting time for the Flare gathering tomorrow. Once you helped Marco out of the car and onto the couch he seemed a little more coherent, "I think they hit us with a confusion attack. Maybe mixed with amnesia but I can't really tell. Angel knew confusion for a while, used to hit me with it when I caught her making webs. I guess they didn't want us to remember their faces?" Angel was Marco's Ariados, one of the few bug pokemon he still owned. You rub your head, wondering how safe it had really been for you to drive home like this... oh well. You made it back. Time to sleep it off so you'd be ready tomorrow for the meeting.