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Tek- Show me forward. Tek tweets once, Povel throws his arm into the air, and the obedient Fletchling takes off. Povel sits patiently on a rock, waiting for his companion to return with an answer. A few moments later Tek comes fluttering back, lands on his arm and tweets twice. Thank you. Povel hands Tek a seed.
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Povel stands up from the brush and slowly moves forward out of the tree line. The dense, tropical landscape of Route 119 comes in handy for situations like this. It's easy to move without being seen and in the unlikely event you get spotted, losing your tail is easy. Good for Povel and good for Rocket. Light brushing and mild crunching with his steps were the only sounds for a few hours up until a faint, electrical hum entered the mix.
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A power transfer station with a small, one-room, utility building made of concrete painted white. It's not a very important place, but a few members of some of the rocket squads use it for various things when they needed to get away. Rocket are clever, but they're still an organization with a lot of people- that means a need for common meeting places for whatever their organization's needs are. That also means a possibility for accidentally left behind intel. It's not extremely common, but it's one place in a network of many places on Povel's list.
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Ewa- watch. He sets the Pidove on one of the hand rails near the door. Povel enters the room through the loud, metal door, and turns the lights on. He immediately lifts up his shotgun, not likely to be needed, but you can't be too careful. After stepping forward a bit the smell of a decaying body fills his nostrils. Povel peeked around a folding table in the center of the room to find a man with blonde hair laying on the ground while tied to a knocked down chair.
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Povel squat down next to the boy. So young.. He looked as if he was straight out of high school, a young college kid at most. He also looked thoroughly worn over by some Rocket interrogators. Bluish purple face markings, a broken nose, and large, wooden splinters under his finger nails. He looked in his pockets and around the building- nothing. No identification or trail at all. Povel pulled his phone out and took a few pictures of the body.
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Ewa cooed. Povel suddenly snapped into flight, looking for the nearest cover. A small metal closet was all that was available in the tiny room, but it was his only option. With his slender frame, Povel squeezed into the closet and focused on calming his breath.
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Gunner Graves

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