Any sense of contentment and comfort she may have been experiencing whilst in the mind-numbing comfort of sleep is shattered the second the bright yellow phone laid on her bedside cabinet flares up into an agonisingly loud and disturbingly cheerful ring-tune. She'd chosen the song for its funky beat and a good sense of rhythm, but now it betrays her by piercing through her peace like the sharpest blade in the world.

Elesa has always been described as a dignified and graceful woman, but she is neither of these things as she is forced into awareness, body limply wriggling around in disturbed confusion as an arm blindly lashed out from beneath her warm covers to grab for the phone. Oh Arceus above, make it stop, a vague thought whimpers, as she groans in dissatisfaction. Who in their right mind would be calling her at this hour?!

It has to be a late hour at that, given there's no natural light in her room, she feels awfully tired even without being jarred awake so violently and, and, and the damn phone refuses to shut up. Finally, her ears regain themselves to better pinpoint the racket, and her wandering arm seizes the smooth device.

She can't even look at the screen, it's way too bright for her bleary eyes to the point it's practically torture to gaze at the shine, so she just snaps a thumb onto the answer button and drags the device over to an available ear, tiredly grumbling: "Mm, who is it?..."

Honestly, she contemplates just falling back asleep right now and turning off the damn phone and thus shutting out the asshole who dared interrupt her beauty sleep, if only to spite them for thinking they could afford any kind of conversation with her, the Shining Beauty, the Queen of Nimbasa, at this time of night. She probably could too, given she's practically inches away from falling under as it is-

"Hi Elesa!" An agonisingly cheerful and perky voice chirps from the other end of the line. "It's me, Skyla! Sorry for waking you up so late, but I kinda wanted to ask you something."

Even in sleep-depraved dissatisfaction, she'd never doubt that that voice belonged to Skyla, all so sweet and happy even this unholy hour. The high-flying girl reputed as an ace pilot worthy of her grandfather's legacy, praised as a powerful Flying-type Gym Leader, and the supermodel's own girlfriend was a hard one to confuse with others. Elesa gave a soft moan, deprived of her plan to just hang up in face of being incapable of disappointing said girlfriend in any way, and instead just wonders why the Distortion Realm she'd be phoning at-

Wait a minute. A more alert part of her aching brain promptly recalls the type of scenario that would coerce Skyla to contact her so late at night, the exact nature of the situation that would drive her to this-

"Truth be told, and I know you won't like it, 'cause you told me you'd kick my ass if it did happen again, but… it kind of happened again, so I need your help to fix it!"

Fuck.

Awareness forces itself through every inch of her body and Elesa jolts up to a seating position, eyes sharply narrowing in distaste as her demeanour transforms from tired negligence to cold alertness: "Where are you, Skyla?"

"I'm actually in your garden right now, by those sweet rose bushes, oh, they smell so good! Are you-"

She swings her long legs out from the covers in the cool air, gets her feet to the floor and stands up, moving over to the shaded outline of the closet and fumbling for the handle as she snaps: "I'll be out in a few minutes. You stay hidden, and don't you even think of stinking up those plants."

It's a bit rude, she knows, what with promptly stopping the call and tossing her phone onto the bed before the other girl can reply, but quite frankly, this was not how she preferred to spend her evening, any evening, and yet here she was getting dragged back into the twisted little situation that only her quite possibly demented girlfriend could muster up. Growling in frustration to herself, Elesa swings open the closet and snatches a box from the bottom of it, a black box helpfully labelled: 'In case of Skyla'

When one of her student models had popped by to appraise Elesa's outfits, she found said box and asked what it meant. Elesa had bluntly told her that's where she kept mementos of all the times she'd made Skyla scream her name. The model never questioned her about it again.

Inside the box is not mementos, for those are in another box under the bed, but rather an assortment of rough attire, basic shirt and trousers, a long cloak with a hood, rather unkempt shoes and socks, all coloured black. Also within the box is a torch and a shovel, a particularly hefty tool with a rather dirtied handle and a dull grey spade.

Elesa moves quickly, peeling off her pyjamas, tossing them aside and dragging on these dark and musty clothes as quickly as she could. This isn't the first time she's had to make a quick mobilisation in face of yet another of Skyla's incidents, and each time she goes through with it, she fervently hopes it's the last time she'll ever have to.

Alas, Skyla has not yet graced her with that hope. Oh, she was in deep shit once this had been sorted out. Elesa was going to drag the pilot back here by that tuft on her head and spank her until she couldn't sit down for a week. Then again, that may actually be another reason Skyla was so persistent about all this. Oh well, it made Elesa feel better at any rate.

Alright, clothes on, shoes on, hood and cloak in place, shovel in hand, she promptly deems herself ready to go. Snagging two Pokeballs from her desk, she puts them in her pocket as she races down the steps and heads for the back door. Oh, even without glancing at a clock or something, she's pretty sure that was her fastest time yet. She's certainly becoming better at getting up in a hurry, even if the reasoning for it is hardly what she'd prefer it to be.

Regardless, her keys are on the kitchen table, so she snatches them up and slots into the back door's keyhole, neatly unlocking it and sliding the huge glass door aside. She shudders a little bit at the cold night air even through her hefty cloak, before stepping out into her garden.

Just as she'd said, Skyla was crouched down by the rose-bushes, clad in looming black cloaks and humming merrily to herself as she fiddled with her own shovel. Besides her is a massive Braviary, the huge Pokemon idly preening his feathers, as well as two thick sacks that seemed to be stained with something or other. Elesa eyes them sharply for a second before turning her attention to the red-head.

Seeing Elesa had emerged, Skyla gave a quick coo of happiness and danced over to the model, wrapping herself around her in a tight hug as she squeaked: "Oh, Elesa, I'm really, really sorry for having to wake you up like this, and that we gotta clean up this mess I made, but really, I honestly didn't expect-"

Elesa silenced her with a lip to her fingers, and she coolly stated, eyes flashing menacingly at the surprised pilot: "Just get to the point, Skyla. Who ended up in the sacks today?"

For all her faults, the girl is quick when prompted; she whips out two Trainer cards from a pocket under her cloak and displays them to the model, who accepts them from her and reads them.

"Daniel, age 16, five badges, ID number 02345. Asswipe, age 15, two badges, ID number 55871." She recites coolly, glancing down at the sacks before directing her next sentence to Skyla. "Regardless of the fact that I have to question what kind of idiot parent would name their kid Asswipe, I feel as though I should point out to you that that's two more aspiring young stars you've snuffed."

The pilot fidgeted uncomfortably: "Well, you know, it wasn't my fault-"

"Oh no, it's not your fault at all, it's only just the cannons you designed, paid for and installed. Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, not everyone shares your Arceus-blessed impact-absorbent skeletal structure or your oh-so reliable impact-absorbent airbags?"

A poke to Skyla's chest emphasized that particular remark, earning Elesa a squeak of indignity.

Nevertheless, the pilot maintained her defence: "But I designed the cannons really well! Their maximum force output-"

And nevertheless, Elesa didn't really care: "Skyla, I don't really care what your cannons output are. All I'm saying is, they're responsible for killing people. Which makes you responsible for killing people. Which in turn makes me responsible because I'm the one who covers up for you instead of doing the sensible thing and paying someone to smash down your Gym or maybe just haul you to prison."

Her girlfriend whimpered a little bit under her stern cold tone, shrinking in on herself oh so pitifully, and the supermodel's resolve weakened ever so slightly as she gave a soft sigh: "Fine. I'll save the lecture for tomorrow. Let's just get this over with so I can get back to sleep."

Skyla promptly perked up, pleased to have evaded the other woman's wrath at least for now, and hollers; "Okie-dokie! Braviary, let's get to it!"

The Pokemon cawed in agreement and leant down so they could heft up the sacks (Elesa grimly noted the sogginess and the haphazard nature of the contents) and place it on the Flying-type's back, the hefty flyer much more suited for transporting the heavy load than the duo. Thanking herself for picking a house on the outskirts of Nimbasa, Elesa turned on her torch and promptly led them through the back-gate. It was a short trip from the dirt pathway to the edge of the Nimbasa forest, and the supermodel pushed ahead, Skyla right at her heels and Braviary idly ambling along behind them.

As they walked, Elesa releasing her Zebstrika and Eelektross on their Pokeballs to keep an eye out for any wild Pokemon, Skyla danced to her girlfriend's side and cheerfully chirped: "You know, we both have free schedules tomorrow- or later today, technically- so I was thinking that maybe we could pay a visit to the Nimbasa Musical! I hear they've been having absolutely awesome performances lately, so I think it'd be really fun to go have a look!"

"You're changing the subject, Skyla."

The pilot flushed a bit: "Well, yeah, but to be honest, talking about corpses isn't much fun really, not much fun at all. I think it's much better to just focus on the positive side of this situation, namely in that we don't get caught-"

"You don't get caught, you mean. If we're discovered, I'm just going to pretend you're forcing me to help you under threat of having my pretty face smashed in by a shovel."

"Oh, throw me under the plane why don't you?"

"Maybe I wouldn't if my oh so sweet and innocent girlfriend would just stop killing people."

"I don't kill people!"

"Guns don't kill people."

"My cannons aren't guns, they're my pride and joy-"

"Murder's your pride and joy."

"No it's not!"

"You just said-"

"My cannons-"

"That murder people."

"Oh you're insufferable!" Skyla huffed, bumping the other girl's side indignantly.

"And you're quite possibly psychotic." Elesa replied, promptly bumping her back. "And I in turn am a negligent idiot who's in love with you and thus can't do anything other than put up with your crap and let you get away with point-blank carnage."

Skyla didn't have a response to that, instead just huffing again and nuzzling up to Elesa, who graciously curled an arm around her and hugged her close to her side. Oh yes, an idiot she was indeed. But oh well; for all the crap brought on by these incursions, Skyla made the rest of their time together more than worthwhile.

And she'd better be making it pretty damn worthwhile after this. What, this was the third incident this month, right? Damn.

Well, for all the poor little aspiring trainers Skyla's cannons had wiped out, Elesa supposed she didn't really care too much. They would be replaced soon enough anyway; there was always a bizarre surge in young trainers every now and then, and she really didn't know how they always seemed to originate from the same back-water little towns on the very edges of the map, considering the typically low populations of such places.

Maybe their mothers had supernatural birth-rates. Hm.

They hadn't gone far into the woods when Braviary gave a sharp caw, indicating he'd found a suitable burial spot. The two humans turned to face him, and the flyer pointed his beak at a clump of bushes nestled near a particular thick tree; a good hiding place indeed for a freshly dug makeshift grave.

Skyla thanked her Pokemon and requested he deposit the load, which he promptly did with an upending of his torso, sending the sacks falling to the floor with a wet thump. Shuddering a little in disgust, Elesa nevertheless eased her cloak back to free her arms and prepped her shovel, shifting over to the somewhat clear area between the clump of bushes and analysing the floor. The dirt was hard, a tad gritty, but they should be able to get through it relatively easily.

Nodding to herself, she motioned Skyla over to help and the two promptly got to work, jamming the tips of their shovels into the reluctant earth and hefting it aside in gritty clumps whilst their Pokemon varied between watching their Trainers or patrolling the surroundings.

To be honest, while she detested the reason for it, Elesa actually appreciated the physical work the digging put her through; nothing quite like a bit of strenuous exercise now and then to help tone the body, and she did profusely enjoy keeping her body toned. As a supermodel, she needed to keep good and fit for the betterment her career, and what better way to add that lithe-muscle undertone than a hard night's digging?

Not to mention, admittedly, no matter how much this whole business could frustrate her, there was a certain thrill to this. There was always that slim little chance of discovery that made this objective all the more intense, and while her logical side snorted at the idea that she may have come to grow accustomed to these ridiculous errands, snorted at the fact she'd let this drag on as long as she had, her more irrational side was quite intrigued by the sheer depravity of all this.

Sure, if they were discovered, both of their careers as Gym Leaders and supermodel/pilot were ruined, their family's dragged into shame and the two of them dumped in prison for the rest of their lives, but fuck, there was a demented appeal somewhere in this. Don't think about it too much, but still, it was there.

And all because her darling girlfriend was possibly the most psychotic murderer this side of the planet, disturbingly oblivious to the sheer insanity those fucking cannons of hers coerced. Elesa supposed the thrills of this whole hide-the-body shtick were a side-effect of her adoration of the pilot; for all of Skyla's demented habits, she did love the pilot, and maybe she was just feeling this kind of twisted satisfaction because she was sharing it with the woman she loved more than anything.

Ah, Skyla. Some days she didn't know whether to sink onto one knee and beg for her hand in marriage, some days she wanted to strangle her. Pretty fucked up, sure, but hey ho, love was blind and all that good crap.

Still, maybe think about marrying her while the going was still good. The last thing she needed was a whole load of 'I-didn't-get-to-do-this' regret if they ever did end up exposed and dumped in prison.

Anyway, as the hole they were digging got larger and larger, the model having to step back a tad to avoid her girlfriend's enthusiastic swings, she idly raised a point she'd been meaning to ask for a while:

"So, how come all your Gym trainers never notice your victims? I mean, the screams of agony, the breaking bones, the bloodstains, you'd have thought they'd have seen all that."

Skyla paused and considered this, before she shrugged and replied: "You know, they never even really pay attention. The second a trainer comes in, they just stand around in one spot, maybe look left or right or walk in a repetitive manner, but none of them ever really do anything except challenge a trainer once and then just stand there for ages. It's weird."

"Huh. I've heard other Gym Leaders mention their trainers doing that too. You'd think they'd turned into statues, some of them."

"When it's time for us to leave, they go about their business all happy and stuff as if nothing ever happened, but when we have a challenger, they always go to the same spot and just stand there or walk the same path over and over, I don't even know why. Some kind of self-inflicted psychological conditioning? Or maybe just selective ignorance?"

"Maybe. I imagine it's just another one of life's many mysteries."

"Mm, true."

They kept at it for a while, until Skyla gleefully determined that the hole was deep enough and leapt out of it, eyes bright, smile wide and clothes clogged with dirt. At her command, Braviary cheerfully kicked the body-bags into the hole and disdainfully flicked a feather off of himself into the makeshift grave. Much as he hated the smell of player corpse, carrying their dead weight was good exercise!

The duo got to work shovelling the piles of dirt back in to cover the bodies, Elesa's style refined and slick, Skyla's energetic and reckless, and it didn't take long for them to have filled the hole. Skyla patted it flat, Elesa gratefully declaring their work finished, before she shifted backwards and mused:

"Do you think we should say a few words on their behalf?"

"Game over, better luck next time, night night sleep tight." Elesa sighed, slinging the shovel and turned her back on their handiwork, flexing her exerted muscles. "I'm too tired for eulogies right now; I just want to go home and get some sleep."

"Okie-dokie!" Skyla cooed, dancing over to her and linking their arms together as she fondly grinned up at the supermodel, shovel waving around at her side. "I do love a good night's sleep after some hard work! It makes you feel so much better about your productive achievements!"

A pause. Elesa already knew what was coming next-

"Is it okay if I can crash at yours tonight? Braviary's a bit too tired to fly back to Mistralton right now."

A caw confirmed this.

"Fine."

"Are you still mad at me?"

"I'm always mad at you."

"Want me to make you breakfast in bed in the morning?"

"I'd love that."

"I'll clean your kitchen."

"That'd be wonderful."

"Are you going to spank me?"

"I'm going to bend you right over and I'm going to do unspeakable things to your idiotic ass and you won't walk straight for a week, you pest."

"Aw."

Another pause.

"I don't mean for this to happen, you know-"

"Let's just go to bed right now, I really can't care at this moment in time. But don't you assume I'll have forgotten about this by tomorrow… or earlier today, however you want to spin it. Either way, I'm not letting you off easy for this."

But she was somewhat kind of smiling a bit, and Skyla giggled a tad as she cuddled closer to the supermodel, Braviary giving off an amused caw as Elesa's Pokemon exchanged a bemused glance. The two walked in silence for a moment, simply talking in the cool night air and the stars above, until they could see the large form of Elesa's house in the distance. You know, despite the rather twisted reason for their coming out tonight, there was a romantic atmosphere right now, a sort of tranquil peace and natural beauty that just invigorated the body so.

Maintaining her typical enthusiasm, Skyla cheerfully stated: "You know what I think, though? Even you hate this, and you hate the whole burying-dead-people-at-midnight stuff, I think deep down there's a wee part of you that finds this invigorating!"

Elesa just chuckled dryly: "Probably. How else do I put up with my psychotic murdering girlfriend unless I myself was quite possibly a tad disturbed in the moral department?"

Skyla laughed: "My grandfather always said that true love, the truest form of love, is the amount of bodies you can bury together!"

"Mm. I can't say I disagree."

"Tee hee! Oh, one last thing, I've just thought of it... who the heck names their kid Asswipe?"

"No idea. I guess it's just another one of those mysteries we'll never understand."

Author's Note: Cannons. Who thought that was a good idea for the physical health of any challengers? Well, it could be worse. Clair's Gym was filled with lava. Whoever designs these Gyms must really hate aspiring youngsters.