The sign for Food Fast isn't terribly hard to find; the logo is simply the words "FOOD FAST" in dark blue and burnt orange, hanging over a glass storefront that consists of a dust-covered counter, a faded menu advertising several types of sandwiches, and very little else. The sirens in the background have reached approximately the sight of the warehouse, as much as you can tell. The completely normal-looking pigeon sitting on top of the counter looks up at your approach and ruffles its feathers for a moment before jerking its head towards the kitchen behind the counter and disappearing back in that direction itself.

The door opens easily enough; looks like it was an electronic lock that has been disabled. The restaurant still smells faintly of baked bread, deli meat, and grease, though over all of this is the nose-itching sent of dust (and for those with stronger senses of smell, the hint of various molds slowly working their way into the structure). There are no seats in the front; it looks like Food Fast took their name very seriously and were pickup or delivery only, and you have to vault the counter to reach the back room where Watcher's pigeon flew.

The kitchen itself is still covered in the same dust, though several streaks and the errant feather hints at a rushed attempt at avian cleaning. So, too, do the haphazardly-stacked milk crates placed around the central prep table, looking like makeshift stools for anyone who wished to sit down. In the center of the table is the bird you all came to meet with your various questions and concerns.

"Okay! So, um, first things first: what I can do to help," the voice from the pigeon begins without preamble, the mingled relief and nervousness evident in his voice. "I have some information, but not as much as I would like; I was going to do something like 'I'll answer three questions about the future now, and three every time a League member is taken down until the end', but... that seems like a bad plan now. One big piece of information I can tell you is that in order to prevent infighting, there's an informal agreement that each League member stays out of each others' business unless invited--like the whole thing today--so they aren't likely to gang up on you. They don't really... like each other, either, so that might help." The pigeon's head bobs up and down quickly for a few seconds.

"Here's the big thing I can offer, though: once you take down a League member, they'll stay down. I mean," he looks between the three of you, "Maybe it's my fault for being in a smaller town instead of New York or something, but the jail here may as well be made out of tissue paper where the League's concerned. I have five floors in the Obelisk set aside for the League as prisons, and I've spent the last month making them stronger once I... you know. If you take down a League member, or even one of their minions, let me know, and I can get them to the Obelisk in secret and keep them there."

Watcher's voice finally pauses for breath, and the pigeon turns its eyes to see all of you. "I'm rambling a bit; not a lot of people to... well. Do you have questions for me?" The sirens in the background wind down; it looks like the police have discovered that they are in the aftermath of a fight, not in the midst of one.