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Trials of a Gym Leader	By : cerberus_ficwriter Category: +M through R > Pokemon Views: 14320 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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- 5
Continuing on...
The Pretorae Part I:
The air was hot and stuffy. Misty's chest heaved, her breath coming heavy as her heart beat faster and faster. Her skin was drenched in sweat but it felt amazing. In fact, it had been awhile since she had done something like this; it was fucking fantastic.
She groaned as her shaking hand reached up and found the deceleration button on the treadmill.
Misty stood and stretched when she finally caught her breath, noticing a few young high school guys—or what she referred to as knuckle-draggers—watching her from across the gym. They weren't subtle about it, even after she noticed them they continued to stare with stupid smiles on their faces. It was a compliment, she supposed. It was her own fault for picking less modest sportswear than most women would wear to the local gym.
She'd been working hard since her recovery in the hospital. Her hand slid down her side to the scar on her stomach. Everyone knew the story by now, even her not-so-secret admirers. Misty was regarded as the Hero of the Cerulean City. It was nice to hear, but not a necessary appellation. If it weren't for her sister Violet she'd be dead.
Steaming water hissed from the showerhead in the women's showers. It was nice to not have to wait for the water to get hot. Misty gingerly stripped and hung her sweaty gym clothes where she could see them. It was almost compulsory to have her discarded clothing always within sight now. Not to say that she didn't trust anyone not to snag them, but...she didn't.
The water sluicing down her pale, smooth skin felt nice. She let the water run down her front and tickle her scar before it ran down to more sensitive areas. Before long the fingers of her right hand also found those sensitive areas while the middle finger of her left hand—slick with soap—slipped inside her ass. She brought herself to an orgasm in only a couple minutes. The showers at the local gym wasn't the place for a prolonged session, and so she made it a quick affair and cleaned herself up.
The hour was late as Misty packed up her things and headed for the door. She was about to push it open but stopped, hearing a sound coming from the mens showers. The wet, rhythmic slapping of skin-on-skin reached her ears as she crept closer. Then, peering around the corner, she saw a muscular man mercilessly fucking a busty brunette. Both were naked and dripping with sweat and steam from the showers—which apparently they believed would drown out their vigorous lovemaking. The man grunted lounder, grabbing a handful of the woman's hair and pulling her head back.
Misty didn't stay to watch. Instead she left quietly and began her walk back to the Cerulean Gym; it wasn't far. The night was peaceful and she took solace in the solitude of her stroll.
It wasn't until she got back to the Pokémon gym that she realized something was wrong. There were some scattered papers festooning the entryway, as if they'd been hurled from the desk nearby. It was quiet too. Not that it usually wasn’t after they closed up for the day, but even then Violet was busy doing something or the evening clean-up crews were bustling about.
Misty cautiously walked through the building to the pool. Violet was there, standing at the edge of the still water and holding a piece of paper in her clenched first. A letter perhaps?
“Sis,” said Misty, her voice seemed too loud in a place otherwise devoid of sound. Violet relaxed, just a little, upon hearing her voice.
“What's the matter?” she continued. Violet abruptly spun on her sister and threw herself into Misty, embracing her tightly and sobbing. Fear gripped Misty's heart. “You want to tell me what’s wrong?” she asked in the most comforting tone she could muster.
The eldest of the Cerulean sisters looked up at her, her pretty features stricken with tears and her blue hair a mess. Violet straightened up and composed herself as much as she could before taking a shaky breath. Her next words flash-froze Misty's soul and stole all the strength from her limbs.
“Daisy is dead.”
The bag she was carrying dropped to the floor, spilling it’s contents onto the interlocking, non-slip tile. Her world spun, dozens of question cropping up in her mind. The foremost of which was, “How?”
Violet wiped the tears from her eyes, further smudging her eyeliner. “Do you want to go-”
“How?” she asked again, a bit more harshley than she intended.
Violet took a deep breath, fighting back tears. “Daisy was killed by a gang in Celadon.”
“One of the gangs she was sent to mitigate?”
“No,” Violet shook her head, “they call themselves the Pretorae, led by a man who calls himself the Praetor. They aren’t related to any other gangs. But…Daisy's death wasn't accidental, they knew who she was.”
Misty had to fight back tears herself as the shock began wearing off, replaced by anger and loss. “How did it happen?”
Her elder sister sobbed, tried to say something, and ended up breaking down into ragged breaths. She pointed over to a bleacher bench, on which rested a folder. Misty walked up to it in a daze and reached for it with palsied hands. Taking a steadying breath, she opened it—and dropped it onto the floor, collapsing into the wall for support and fighting down the urge to be sick. She succeeded only because her anguish finally overcame her composure and she sobbed openly. Misty screamed and pounded the wall with her fist. It hurt, a lot, but pain was a thing far-flung from her thoughts. Her outburst startled her sister, who became utterly languished.
Misty stormed from the pool. Throwing open the double-doors and disappearing from sight. Behind her on the floor lay the folder, which had scattered some of its contents—of which contained a photo of Daisy stripped in an alley. Her face was badly beaten, bruises covered her body, and one of her knees was bent at a sickeningly unnatural angle.
The Pretorae was no doubt sending a message. But why target them? Was Daisy stepping on some toes they didn’t know about? Was this somehow retaliation for the power plant?
There was only one way to find out.
*****
"Does Lily know?” asked Misty, sipping the tea Violet had made them before sitting down in their private lounge.
“No,” replied her morose sister. “She doesn’t need to. Not now. I’ll tell her when she gets back.”
“How is she doing?”
Violet responded by procuring a postcard and handing it to her younger sibling.
“Oh my,” Misty choked, nearly spitting tea all over herself. It was a selfie of their pink-haired sister, taken on a selfie stick, being eaten out by some hot chick on the beach. They were both naked. Lily had made sure to angle the photo just right so there was as much skin on display as there possibly could be. “She’s certainly not shy.”
Violet affected a smirk, “You know Lily…”
Yes, she did. Misty shared the lesbian gene with Lily, although she wasn’t so brazen and exhibitionist about it. Lily practiced lesbianism on a whole other level.
“What are we going to do?” asked Misty.
Violet sighed, “Obviously the Celadon Police are looking into it, but I imagine they aren’t going to find much.”
“The Pretorae wants us,” Misty stated.
Violet nodded, “And we're going to oblige.” She looked at Misty, who didn’t miss the gravity of her tone, “We're going to kill the Praetor, whoever it is, and kill him in the same way they killed Daisy.”
Misty had never heard Violet speak like that. She shuddered, but was nevertheless in full agreement.
"Get some sleep, we leave in the morning for Celadon.”
Misty scoffed, “Fuck that,” she said. “Neither of us will be sleeping tonight and you know it.”
Violet nodded again, “Yeah, ok. Let’s do this then.”
*****
They were in Celadon City by mid-day the next day. Eventually fatigue had gotten the better of Violet, but even then hers was a restless sleep. Misty hadn't slept at all. Sometimes she would sneak off to the cubicle washrooms on the train connecting most of the Kanto cities, and when she did it was to shed silent tears.
“Miss?” Misty jolted out of her reverie to see the hotel attendant holding out two room keys. She took them with a nod and lugged her suitcase to the elevator. She stepped in and pressed the button for the top floor. The doors closed and up she went. It took no time at all to find their room. She opened the door, kicked her shoes off, and collapsed onto one of the two fairly comfortable beds they'd be bunking in.
Violet would be awhile, she was going to gather what information she could from the police station. Erika, the Celadon City gym leader, had offered to assist them in their investigation. “Whatever you need,” she had said over the phone. Misty heard that the Celadon gym housed only women trainers, maybe she would take a stroll down there. Or perhaps she’d have a shower, it'd been a long trip and she felt stale. For a moment Misty fancied picking up a woman at the Celadon gym, bringing her back to the hotel, then having a shower. A long, hot shower.
“Oops,” she said to herself, sitting up and noticing a dark wet spot forming on the crotch of her jeans. Oh well, they'd dry. She couldn’t go out like this though, might as well take a shower now.
Misty started the water and slipped out of her clothes. The bathroom was nice, but she wasn't surprised given the hotels rating. Gingerly she stepped into the water and closed the curtain.
She barely had time to start enjoying the water when a loud knock at the door shattered her privacy. If the shower hadn’t been running she might have ignored it and pretended nobody was in, but, on the other hand, it could be Violet.
Wrapping a towel around herself and shutting off the water, she went to the door and spied through the peep-hole. Nobody was there. Frustrated at whoever was playing chappy on their door, she opened it and stepped outside. Before she could react the handle slipped through her fingers. Misty scrambled to grab it but the heavy hotel door shut fast. It wouldn’t have been so bad, but in her mad scramble the towel slipped off and got caught in the door. The door tugging on the towel was enough to pull it right off of her and it fell to the floor in a heap.
“Shit!” Misty hissed. She tried the handle again, realizing both of her cards were in the room. How the fuck did that happen? But, when she pulled her hand away slippery, she realized then that the handle had a generous glob of soap smeared on it.
Crazed chittering down the hall confirmed her suspicions that she'd just been pranked. The kids scrambled off though after Misty leveled a withering glare in their direction.
“Fuck,” she swore again. Maybe she was destined to be a exhibitionist. Violet would be back soon, at least, and she could go get a spare key. Either that or Misty could knock on one of the other doors and explain her situation. But then she remembered the old homeless man with the spearow and trashed the idea.
Voices down the hall startled her from her thoughts. Misty sprinted to the little alcove in the hall with the ice-cube dispenser and a vending machine, stark naked. Luckily whoever had exited the elevator went in the other direction. After a quick look around she hurried for the stairwell to wait for Violet, figuring nobody really used the stairs if they had the option.
She was right, mostly, and was only caught once by a brunette bookworm type who seemed more curious about her state of dress than anything. The brunette said nothing as she ascended the steps toward a red-faced Misty, but her eyes might as well burned holes in her privates. The woman radiated a quiet simmering lust. Misty was surprised, and a little dissapointed, that she didn't simply force her legs open and bury her bespectacled face in her moist snatch. The lust-ridden intensity of her passing left Misty's head light and her heart pounding. She could feel a growing wetness making her thighs slick. Misty toyed with the idea of chasing down the woman and forcing her fingers to explore what her carnal thoughts had done to her, but perhaps it wasn't the best idea given her situation.
Nearly half an hour passed after the incident before she heard someone knocking on a door in the hall followed by, “Misty, it’s Violet. Did you know there’s a towel stuck in the door?” Relieved, and more than ready to have that shower, Misty took a peek to make sure her sister was alone and emerged from the stairwell. Violet’s eyes went wide. The eldest sister looked at Misty, to the towel on the floor, then to Misty again.
“So, how’d it go?” asked Misty, failing to sound casual.
Violet burst out laughing. Misty hurried to her and hissed at her to shut it or she'd draw attention. Her sister reluctantly did as she was told but still fought back the occasional giggle.
“You’re ridiculous,” she said. “Thanks though sis, I needed that.”
"Don’t touch the handle,” Misty warned.
Violet pulled out a handkerchief—and a spare key—and wiped the soap away. “I got another spare, just in case you had to go out for whatever reason.”
Misty quickly finished up in the shower after stepping into the room while Violet got settled. When she was finished she walked up to the bed, dripping wet and not concerned with her already ruined modesty, and grabbed her towel.
“The police have no real leads yet,” said Violet as Misty was getting herself ready. “They are offering a reward for anyone who comes forward with information on the Pretorae.”
Misty nearly barked out a laugh, “Nobody is going to come forward with information about a criminal organization that, so far, puts Team Rocket to shame."
Violet sighed, “I know.”
“Did you gather enough info so that we at least have a place to start?”
“Yes,” Violet replied. “The way Daisy was killed isn’t a first for the police department. The killer has murdered others in a similar way, like a signature. They think the hit-man who's behind these murders works for the Praetor, and this is how he takes care of the targets the Praetor gives him.”
“The Praetor put a hit out on Daisy,” Misty surmised. “So if we find this hit-man, we find the Pretorae.”
“Yes, if we can find him.”
"Any leads on him?”
Violet shook her head, “Not really. But if we walk around for long enough I’m guessing he will find us.”
Misty mulled over the information, “We use ourselves as bait,” she surmised.
“Yes,” Violet replied.
“Lily will be in danger,” Misty realized suddenly.
Violet held up a hand to stop her, “I’ve explained the situation to the police. They will have Fuchsia cops escort her to the airport and bring her home. Lily won’t be told what’s going on until we get back, I’ve made sure of it.”
Misty relaxed, satisfied with that. “What's the next step then?”
Violet glanced out the window, her thoughts elsewhere for a moment. “We can go to the morgue and say our goodbyes to Daisy, if you want.”
Misty suddenly found herself choked up and cleared her throat. “I’m not ready for that,” she said in all honesty. “If you want to go, you go. I’ll go to the gym and talk to Erika. Nobody would dare try anything there.”
“You should see Daisy before-”
“I know,” Misty scowled, a little angry that Violet would lecture her. And then, “I’m sorry, Vi, I just need time. Ok?”
“Ok,” said the elder sister, “I’m sorry.” She stood and gave Misty a hug. “I’ll come to the gym afterwards, ok? Keep your phone on you.”
"Sounds good,” she replied. Violet gathered her things and left Misty alone in the room.
Misty chose slightly more conservative clothing—jeans and a nice sky-blue shirt—than she would normally have preferred in the summer heat, but she was going to a gym after all. She didn’t bother with her non-combative trainer pin this time, trainers weren’t allowed to be challenged within city boundaries. Usually there were strict laws on battling within a city and there were areas specifically reserved for it. She grabbed Staryu’s pokeball and clasped it to her belt. She doubted she'd need more than one Pokémon, everywhere she was going would be well populated.
With a final item check she headed out the door and descended to the bustling streets of Celadon City.
*****
Six fluted columns strewn with creeping vines, strongly reminiscent of the architectural style of an ancient civilization, stood proudly before the vaulted entrance to the Celadon City Gym. The whole building had an antediluvian feel, from the time-worn masonry to the relief sculptures above the aged pillars. The frieze depicted the botanic beauty of the Kanto region and primeval Pokémon gods nearly indistinguishable from the floral abstractions.
“Shit...” Misty whispered. Pulling out her cellphone, she snapped a quick picture to show Violet. “We're going to need to get some pillars," she said absently. The glass doors—modernism sharply contrasting the buildings exterior—slid open as she approached. Misty was quickly greeted by a florally dressed attendant and, after a brief explanation of why she was there, directed to Erika's lodgings. Misty walked the halls of the Grass-type gym in the direction the attendant had sent her, studying the sylvatic murals adorning the walls until coming to a set of oaken double-doors. Hesitantly, she knocked.
For a moment there was no response, then she heard a latch turn and one of the doors creaked open. Misty found herself staring into the eyes of the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. No doubt this goddess of a woman was Erika, the grass-type Pokémon specialist.
“Misty,” she greeted before the water-type gym leader could regain her composure. “Welcome.”
"Erika,” Misty returned polietly.
“Please,” Erika stepped aside and gestured for Misty to enter, “Come in.” “To what do I owe the honor of your company?” Erika asked, walking over to a antique desk, seating herself, and poring over some papers.
Misty was still transfixed by Erika’s almost unnatural beauty. The woman’s features, strong yet gentle, might have been fashioned from the most exquisitely carven caryatid. “My sister and I are looking for the Pretorae. There is a man working for them that we think can lead us to them.”
"Yes,” began Erika, “I’m so sorry to hear about Daisy.” The use of her sister's name sent an unexpected pang through Misty. “I know you want to get to the bottom of this. As you can imagine, I’m aware of most of the proceedings in the city. But, I don’t know who exactly it is you are looking for. If I did I would have turned them in myself. However, I do suspect, given similar experiances of mine with criminals, that you’ll find her loitering about the game corner."
Misty paused in thought, “You think the killer is a woman?”
"Maybe,” replied Erika. “Maybe not. Do you have evidence that this person is a man? Don’t let preconceived notions cloud intuitive reasoning, women can be just as deadly, if not in some cases more so, than men."
Misty nodded, remembering Erika's reputation as an ardent feminist. “Thank you, Erika. And your gym is amazing, I can only hope that one day the Cerulean City gym can compare.”
She turned to leave, “Misty,” Erika called behind her. “I know of your…preferences. I’m sorry if I’m being bold in saying that, but please visit the coliseum before you go. A few of my girls were asking if they’d get to meet you.”
Briefly Misty wondered how Erika had heard that, perhaps it was because of the rumors about her scrap with the female rocket. Even so, who was she to question an offer like that! “Thank you,” she said genuinely, “but I need to take care of this first. I’ll take you up on that before we head home though.”
Erika smiled—what a smile it was!—and gave Misty an elegant nod, “Of course.”
With that she was gone, heading out once again into the streets. The information wasn't a lot to go on, but it was definitely a start. She would have to tell Violet when her sister got back to the hotel.
Until she did though Misty would have some time to herself, and Erika's offer had made her a little horny.
In short order she was enjoying the hot, steamy water of the shower she never really got to enjoy earlier. Misty tended to take frequent showers when she was away. Maybe it was that she got to shed her clothing for awhile, or perhaps it was the feel of water running over her skin. Probably both.
Misty grabbed the shower nozzle, turned the dial to the massage setting, and brought it down between her legs. She nearly had an insta-orgasm as the pleasant pressure of the water washed over her clit. She felt bad for enjoying herself like this in the wake of the current situation but, rightly so, she needed something to de-compress.
Visions of Erika flashed through her mind. She would definitely be going back there after all was said and done.
How could she not?
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Trials of a Gym Leader