Rowan is correct in his assumption: Gavin appreciates initiative.

In his life, he has transcended from subordinate to superior within Rocket. He is now the one to impress, and Rowan Wrynn offers good impressions when he contacts the underboss with a promising job. Now would be the time to see if Wrynn was worth the effort expended on him.

On a hill overlooking the road, Gavin watches the trucks curve around the bend. Three trucks, a convoy: their target, and the protection. Binoculars reveal two individuals in each flanking truck and one next to the driver.

"We assume they're all armed and willing to shoot on sight." They had to assume such, these days, or it may just get them killed. "We avoid violence if we can," for he had not forgotten their discussion on limits, "but be prepared to defend yourself. What do you have at your disposal for a non-violent take-down? Think quickly; my Tyranitar will do what it can, but it won't be pretty."

He palms its pokeball, ready to engage when the lead truck goes off-road.

'I already have a plan'.

Music to Gavin's ears, and he's content to watch as the grunt offers to prove himself. The pokeball in his hand goes unopened, and Gavin plays bystander to the chaos that Rowan Wrynn would unleash. The truck is blasted off-road by a powerful beam of water, and hell breaks loose.

He doesn't question the earplugs, just inserts them. Through their protection, the horrible noise is muffled but not deafened. He can guess as to its original intensity by the way the guards react, dropping their guns and clutching at their ears as they're assaulted by sound. Some stand more firm than the rest, managing to maintain their grip on their weapons, but he has no doubt their aim will be compromised by the sonic warfare.

At Rowan's question, Gavin shakes his head. Smiles.

"By all means, show me what you can do."

It's not what Gavin expects — hypnosis, perhaps, or a disorienting supersonic, but not the electricity that crackles through the air. It's more brutal a method than he'd thought Rowan Wrynn would be comfortable with.

The underboss appears satisfied with the result, pushing damp hair out of his eyes and pocketing his glasses.

Tyranitar's pokeball is exchanged for another, and a Corviknight emerges. It spreads its wings as Gavin climbs aboard its back, rain pattering against steel in steady rhythm. With extreme speed for a creature of its bulk and weight, the bird streaks toward the convoy.

A guard still conscious calls for their own Pokémon: Aegislash, Swampert, Tropius. The belated realization that they might have been facing a veritable horde of foes if the other guards hadn't been dispatched in time is registered but deemed irrelevant in Gavin's racing mind. Corviknight takes a sharp left in the air to avoid an icy blast from the mudfish, retaliating with its own steel wing feathers hurled as projectiles toward their foe. When Corviknight gets low enough to the ground, Gavin jumps from its back and lands hard, wincing as the shock reverberates.

Trusting Rowan's Seismitoad to handle the guards as promised, Gavin focuses in on the Pokémon.

Swampert has been taught to play dirty; it unbalances him with an earthquake that further cracks an already damaged road and causes Gavin to stumble back into grass knots laid by the Tropius. They curl round his ankle and root him to the earth.

He brings out his Sandslash as a counter, its metal claws slashing through trapping vines to free him. A signal from Gavin instructs it to protect them both, Aegislash's sword clanging against Sandshrew's steel.

As Sandslash grapples with the sentient shield, a blast of water catches the specter off guard. It's all the opening the shadow Pokémon needs. A blizzard tears across the road, forcing back the Aegislash and decimating the unexpecting Tropius who'd been too busy dealing with Corviknight.

"Thanks," Gavin calls, loud enough to be heard.

Sandslash safeguards its allies against its frigid assault, and Corviknight rounds upon Aegislash before it can recover. Its bloodcurdling shriek pierces the howling gale, frost coating its metallic feathers as it dives in and drills its beak into metal, pecking incessantly at the opened wound.

Gavin has pulled his gun, disables the safety before turning to look for Rowan—

CRACK!

The sound of gunfire is deafening, unmistakable. Gavin bites back an outcry and instead lunges toward the collapsing form of the recruit. Sandslash dogs at his heels, daring Swampert to get close, and the underboss kneels next to Rowan.

"Keep pressure on it," he barks. "I've got you."

His Lucario knows its purpose: as the only Pokémon in Gavin's main roster with healing capabilities, the canine inhales the sharp scent of blood and immediately shifts its focus to Rowan. Raindrops become beads of life-saving dew, and Gavin gestures for Rowan to remove his hand so that they can drip onto the ragged hole left by the bullet wound. It would sting like a bitch, but it would save him from bleeding out.

A decade in service to Rocket shows itself in Gavin's calm, steady hands returning his gun to its holster against his chest. The threats, Pokémon and people alike, have been handled, and all that's left is to tend to their wounded in the aftermath and accomplish the objective.

He is not infallible, however, and tenses slightly at Rowan Wrynn's yelp of agony.

Argos is not a name he knows, but he doesn't hesitate to reach for the indicated capsule and release its captive. A Slowbro is revealed to have been inside, and Gavin offers a curt, "Help him," with a nod to his bleeding trainer.

A shriek overhead draws the underboss' eye to his Corviknight, who has spotted flashing lights in the distance. In the pouring rain, the sound of sirens is faint. They had clearly called for some kind of back-up when run off the road.

"We need to move quickly. Can you do that?"

Gavin straightens up, offering Rowan a hand.

"Don't be," Gavin snaps. "Shit happens on the job; that's what I was saying about risks."

They'd talked of Rowan Wrynn's limits, and though Gavin had promised to be as accommodating as possible, he'd also presented realism: there might come a time when killing wasn't a choice beyond your own life or death. You were going to get hurt at some point no matter how many precautions you took. Rocket were a force for freedom, not good.

Granted, he hadn't expected him to get hurt so soon.

He's surprised but pleased by Seismitoad's competence; its timely arrival with a case of pokeballs allows the Rockets to focus on escape.

"You got an out or do you need a hand?"

Gavin's Corviknight swoops down and he climbs on its back with a practiced ease. They were the taxi cabs of Galar, more than capable of carrying multiple passengers and no doubt a common sight in Rowan's own experience as well.

Gavin's laughter is dry. "Movies are full of shit."

There were a lot of things they didn't tell you: the deafening sound of a gunshot, the excruciating pain of broken ribs, the trauma of a first kill.

Movies made their lifestyle look easy.

"It would have been best if you'd avoided injury, but the objective is secured." His disappointment is not directed at the recruit. As soon as Rowan Wrynn has found his balance on the back of the shadow-feathered bird, it takes flight on near-silent wings. Miasma swirls around it. "You're taking this remarkably well."