“Flamethrower!” Flannery shouts at her partner. “Dont let them get to your side again!”

  Growlithe does his best, but somehow the Grovyle uses a combination of speed and sheer audacity to juke the flames in one direction then duck underneath the returning sweep of fire.

  Thankfully the Gym Leader taught Growlithe better than to be surprised by this, and the instant his opponent is back within melee range the ‘mon’s flamethrower is directed to the ground with a spin around himself, smoothly transitioning the move to a flame wheel that singes Grovyle and makes him fall back.

  “Grovyle! Quick attack through!” Calls the opposing trainer, an order that no sane grass type ‘mon would obey, even if the speed would reduce most of the damage.

  Unfortunately this ‘mon is not sane!

  “Het!” Flannery shouts, a monosyllabic code word she’d trained into her elite four team over and over and is already attempting to transfer into the gym teams.

  Growlithe proves to be among the best of her gym ‘mon, as he knows exactly what to do at her command, and when Grovyle disappears into a blur of speed the ‘mon shoots into the flames just as they begin to dissipate revealing Growlithe’s wide open jaws ready to bite.

  The grass type is moving too quickly to react until it’s too late, Growlithe’s powerful fangs clamping down and sending the opponent to the floor with a grapple maneuver practiced over and over in every possible configuration.

  The practice means this is a position that Flannery doesn't need to give an order for her partner to know what to do, and before she’d even have the chance she sees the flickers of flame from within the ‘mon’s throat as he primes another flamethrower.

  “No! Grovyle get out of ther–” Is all the challenger can say before his partner is bathed in flame for several long seconds before being tossed roughly to the center of the arena. “Grovyle!”

  There's a few moments of silence as she waits for the judge to call in her favor as the clearly defeated ‘mon groans and weakly moves to cover his eyes, but after a few seconds she looks over at the covered seat where the referee is sitting.

  …With his eyes shut.

  Flannery clears her throat, a noise that –despite being significantly quieter than the battle it’s replacing– has the man jolt to wakefulness.

  “WhWha– Oh! Challenger is out of pokemon! Gym leader Flannery wins!”

  With that the challenger recalls his last pokemon, mutters something at the ball, then looks over at the gym leader with a determined expression.

  “This isn't over! We’ll win next time! And this time I mean it!” He shouts, to which Flannery forces a laugh to cover for exhaustion and a small amount of fear that he’s right.

  “Hahahaha! You wish! You’ll need to train with more passion than that if you ever want to beat me!” She shouts back, putting a hand to her side and cocking her hip in a pose she’d practiced in the mirror for days to express just the right emotions.

  But as the challenger turns around and walks out of sight, back to do… whatever that crazy kid does whenever he’s not challenging her, Flannery feels herself deflate.

  How is he getting this close!?

  He’s fighting her with two shroomish and that insane Grovyle! That’s it! He’s challenging her fire type gym with a pure grass team! Not even grass water! Grass!

  And the kid is getting close! Growlithe was her last battle ready ‘mon this time, and refuses to switch any ‘mon on her team to better fight a pure grass type, not only because it would be unfair, but for her pride as a trainer!

  She very pointedly ignores the fact that the trainer she just called ‘kid’ isn't that much younger than her. Age is a state of mind!

  She looks over at the judge, only to see him asleep again.

  When she first took charge of this gym from her grandfather she said that she wouldn't push her staff any harder than she pushes herself, and she kept that promise, working alongside at every late night getting the battle space repaired and chasing down every piece of lost mail.

  Unfortunately it seems her maximum effort is unsustainable to the staff under her.

  …She should let him sleep.

  Flannery yawns as she walks over to the ref’s chair and grabs a walkie talkie from his cupholder and presses the button.

  “Hey, grass type kid is coming down, how long till the next challenger? We need to get the arena resurfaced, who has the landscaping team pokeballs?”

  There’s a crackle, then a very long silence.

  “...hello–”

  “Yes! Sorry Gym Leader!” Dan’s breathless voice crackles over the speaker. “Landscaping team, right! I don't know. Last I saw they were being sent to the Transfer Machine.” There’s another indistinct voice from somewhere else on the other side of the line. “No, wait. That’s still broken, I don't know where the landscaping ‘mon are. I’ll ask around.”

  Flannery winces at the statement, looking around at the ruined field.

  She knows the landscaping team is around here somewhere, their belt of pokeballs have been misplaced before, but whenever that happens at least one pops out and brings the rest back up at the front desk. So it’s obvious that the team is currently in use somewhere.

  But where?

  The gym leader begins to pace back and forth as she wracks her brain to remember where she last saw them, or who they were with, or anything.

  Brushing her bangs out of her eyes, she tugs on the hair as she grunts in irritation as she feels the weight of her job as ‘Gym Leader Flannery’ press in as if the open sky above her is falling.

  She was a great trainer. She still is a great trainer! A gym and its staff is just another, even bigger, team! This shouldn't be so hard!

  She grunts in pain as she accidentally tugs her bang a bit too hard, and suddenly she feels a hot nose pressing against the palm of her hand and the gym leader starts, looking down to see Growlithe where he’s looking up at her with worry.

  She smiles down at him.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “Thanks Growls.” She says before raising up her walkie talkie again. “Hey Dan? Could you pause on sending people through the gym? And get some people looking for the landscaping team.”

  There’s a crackle, but now answer.

  “Dan?” She repeats.

  Still no answer.

  Flannery looks at the walkie talkie for a few more seconds, then lets out a sigh and starts walking down the hill toward the gym building.

  Great.

  And she still can't get the Transfer Machine working, so she’s been forced to send runners to the pokecenter to get her teams healed between every–

  Oh that’s where the landscaping team went!

  Flannery feels herself break into a smile as one problem is solved, just another thing to remove from her plate as she walks up to the door to the gym and heads inside.

  Only to see the employees-only backroom area is a flood of activity, people rushing around as if they’re being shocked for every second they spend standing still, each and every one holding a sheet of paper in their hands and looking…

  Flannery struggles to place the expression.

  Something like fear, but as if they’re half questioning whether they’re being crazy for being afraid in the first place.

  As they spot her their expressions transition to relief and Andrew steps forward.

  “Gym Leader. We’ve got a problem– er. Not exactly a problem but… It’s just…”

  “Just come to the front room please?” Dan interrupts as he comes alongside, tightly clutching his own sheet of paper that, now that she’s closer, Flannery can see is covered in line after line of almost obsessively neat handwriting.

  They’re spooked about something, they know the policy is to ask disruptive trainers to leave, which means they’re disruptive and giving out orders. Could it be…

  The Gym Leader’s mind flashes to the conference call with the other gym leaders she’d shown up almost half an hour late too, talking about the threat of Team Magma and their recent rise in activity near her gym.

  Flannery reaches to her waist for her team, the one she’d trained to become champion, but grabs air. They’re relaxing at home today rather than sitting in their pokeballs, and suddenly she regrets that decision.

  “...Is there something I should be concerned about?” She asks slowly, putting a hand on the team of Gym pokemon, not the most powerful but well trained. As long as whatever this is–

  “No, not concerned. I mean. Well…” Dan tries again before signing and waving for her to follow. “Just… come and see?”

  Flannery hesitates before, seeing she really has no choice, follows behind. Moving at a brisk clip, she speeds through the back halls of the gym until opening the employees only door into the main room where she sees–

  Wow.

  That’s a big chansey.

  Flannery stops in her tracks, dumbfounded for a moment at the sheer size of the ‘mon in front of her, a hulking slab of pink larger than an average blissey, maybe taller than her, stands at the front desk surrounded by floating papers as at least three different pens scratch away in the air, sending off sheets to several piles and roughly being shoved into the hands of the gym staff as they pass by on one task or another.

  A second later Dan leans closer and begins muttering close to her ear.

  “She’s been standing there for the past ten minutes telling us what to do.”

  “...What’s she been saying?” The gym leader mutters back.

  “Just like, stuff for us to do and instructions on how to run the gym better. She came in with Nurse Joy.” He answers, half pointing across the room to the other employee door leading to the Transfer Machine where it sits ajar.

  Flannery nods.

  “Thanks.” She whispers, then starts walking past the small crowd of very still trainers and into the door where she offers a smile for–

  Her smile freezes on her face, looking up at the lack of hat on her head, to lack of age on the nearly identical face, to the light of recognition in her eyes as Nurse Joy looks back at the trainer.

  Flannery points at the Nurse, fighting down the red she knows is appearing on her face at the memory of her disastrous slip.

  “You!?”

  Nurse Joy smiles, exactly as if she were standing behind the counter at her pokecenter, clasping her hands at her waist.

  “Good afternoon Gym Leader Flannery.” She says, as if their previous interaction never happened.

  A second later Flannery realizes that the only way to get out of this without embarrassment is to do likewise. So she struggles to shove what happened out of her mind while also trying to make her mouth cooperate at the same time.

  “Nnnnurse Joy.” She tries, looking behind the woman and at the Transfer Machine. “Why are… You and that chansey… why is your partner… why are you…”

  She trails off as she actually sees the Transfer Machine, on the screen is a diagnostic overlaid over the working desktop.

  Did Nurse Joy fix her busted Transfer Machine!?

  The Nurse’s smile widens as she realizes what Flannery is looking at,

  “I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty of getting your Transfer Machine working again.” She says. “And yes, Chansey had some suggestions on how to improve some things with your gym.”

  Flannery looks between Nurse Joy, the Transfer Machine, then back out into the main room where the chansey’s eyes are now darting over to look at her with singular intensity.

  Apparently the ‘mon’s idea of improvements involve lists of tasks shoved into every member of her staff's hand and a firm glare to do as she ‘suggests.’

  But, well… if she’s being honest with herself, the gym can't get much worse than it already is without literally catching fire, so she nods her head.

  “Well… thanks I guess. You didn't need to do that.”

  The nurse smiles,

  “I was no trouble Gym Leader.” Nurse Joy demures, dipping her head, her normal smile twisting into a slightly mischievous one as if revealing a secret as she looks up. The expression looks distinctly odd on the Nurse’s face. “Chansey really enjoys organizing things. I’m pretty sure she should be thanking you for letting her do this.”

  Flannery nods, feeling a touch lost with this entire situation and grasping for something to anchor herself.

  “...Is there something I can help you with? Is there someone hurt I need to…” She trails off as Nurse Joy shakes her head, stops, then wavers her hand with a slightly sheepish expression even further from a normal Nurse Joy.

  “Welll…. If you wouldn't mind I would like an appointment.” She says slyly.

  The gym leader blinks.

  An appointment? What kind of appoint–

  “You’re a trainer?” The blurts out in surprise and immediately regrets it, as instantly all expression that had been peaking out behind the normal Nurse Joy face disappears.

  She refuses for there to be another social slip!

  Fix this now!

  “Sure! Yea! No problem.” She says to quickly try and recover the inadvertent social fumble. “I’ll have to look at my schedule to figure out when you can come in, but I’ll get you a slot as soon as possible.”

  It seems to work, because almost immediately Nurse Joy’s smile shifts back out of the normal face and into an individual expression.

  “Thank you Gym Leader. Hey Chansey!” She shouts, poking her head over Flannery’s shoulder and waving at the still massive chansey across the room. “What's a good time slot for us?”

  “Chans chan chan chansey.” The ‘mon responds without looking up from whatever she’s writing, but as she speaks a clipboard covered in papers flies across the room.

  Catching the clipboard as naturally as if having things be telepathically flung at her is as natural as breathing, the pink haired trainer nods and scans over the papers on the clipboard.

  “Ok, four pm three days from now is your closest slot that works for us.” She says slightly distractedly. “Chansey also wanted me to tell you that these papers are some suggestions on how to create a…

  “Ansey an ans chanseychan.”

  “Cohesive, metric driven, workplace culture. Thank you Chansey.” Nurse Joy says, blinking as she reads something on the paper in front of her before looking up at Flannery. “Wait. Do you really only have one referee hired right now?”