[[DNA-T]] [DNA Nera Tracking]Dialup II

Her first outing had been a success. One filled nera jar sat in a locked display case, the jar lovingly cradled in a repurposed wine bottle cradle. Dialup was studying it quietly, watching the fractals of ice crawl over the inner surface, neat patterns that obeyed some rigid law of nature. She had identified it, loosely, as a sandshrew, by the tiny ears atop the thing's head, the scutes that formed on it. It was not, unfortunately, one that she thought she had a use for right then, but, it was a start. Perhaps it'd fetch a nice chunk of change down the line, or, maybe, she'd find something that would be improved by the gift of ice. Either way- she had more jars. Two, actually. The hunt could continue.

And so, it would. Dialup shouldered her satchel, looked about. Wattson was out and about with the Gible Gang, and her messenger bird was currently lounging in his aquarium cage. She tossed in some food, and then poked her head out into the yard. "I'm heading back out, Wattson. Hold down the fort, you know what to do if things get too rambunctious." Wattson focused on Dialup for a moment, and then nodded, saluted her, and then hopped into a wide stance, attention on the hoard of gibles surrounding him. They charged as she closed the door, and departed out the front. They were going to have fun- so, she supposed she ought to try and have some for herself, too.

As long as she didn't accidentally bond to a nera, Dialup was fairly certain she'd be fine. With a little pep in her step, she hummed thoughtfully. She could go back down to the mainland. She could wander for a long while, out in the woods, risk being too far away from her pokemon if anything happened. So- rather than waste time, go all the way down there, she turned her attention to her home city. She knew her way around fairly well, it was a surprisingly nice day for spring- the sun was warm overhead, the winds calm. The bustle of the floating metropolis was a comfort, but she didn't necessarily want to lose herself into the crowds. It'd be a better idea, she suspected, to make her way towards the less attended areas. Lesser-traveled sectors, old warehouses. Seemed much more likely that she'd find unbonded Nera in those locales- after all, that was where she tended to train with Wattson, where she went to seek out rogue pokemon to fight or capture.

Time passed. The streets became less crowded, less vibrant. Fewer people, shorter buildings. Away from the well-kept parks, the neon signs. Here, the more industrial section of the town, the power plants, the factories. Scrap-yards and recycling plants. She was a frequent flier for those places, actually, where she went to pick out her metal plates to machine into spare parts, clockwork tinker toys. Electronics like scrapped augments, or discontinued or outmodded ones.

There were plenty of steel-types there- aron tended to like to snack on the refuse, for instance. Dialup had had to fend off a few over some choice parts, but, luckily, she had considerable reach on most of them, and, tossing down a few nuts and bolts usually distracted them plenty. It was the evolved forms that tended to give her grief. Aggrons were... harder to evade. Klinks and such were soothing to watch, but the galarian Meowths were notoriously aggressive.

Luckily for her, Dialup wasn't looking for those, or even for anything particularly technological. Although, as she climbed a fence, observed by one or two dead-eyed fellows, she supposed she wouldn't turn her nose up at some new arm parts. She made her way to the center of the heap without a care in the world, and settled back to watch as the wild creatures crept back out. It was, to her, peaceful. The crunching of metal, the little chirps and jangle. The occasional squabble as the occasional dreepy thrown by its carrying dragapult- probably target practice- went awry. She even spotted a jangmo-o and a hakamo-o play fighting, showing off scars.

A shame they weren't what she was there for. She was about to get up when she saw the telltale wisp of a nera go around a corner. Up she went, jar in hand.

Time to try to get lucky.