He was out too late tonight. The sun had set a couple of minutes ago and he still hadn't found a place to stay the night. His previous home had been disrupted by the illustrious humans and their efforts to mimic chimpanzees. One of them had stepped in Rocc's assemblage of tin cans and plastic forks, effectively crushing it to the point where it resembled a broken egg more than it did a nest. That, combined with the fact that he couldn't find much more than a grain of rice for dinner today, had made him late. Rocc waddled quickly, his foot padding across the cracked tile sidewalks, making his way down the narrow paths of Barcelona.
"Look at what we've got here," a raspy voice called out from one of the shadows cast by a nearby dumpster. "A little chickadee with nowhere to go."
Rocc stared at them with widened eyes, watching the pigeons advance on him with an increasing amount of alarm. The speaker, fat-necked with a thready disposition, was flanked by two other pigeons, each armed with a matching mocking glare.
He couldn't fight against three pigeons. Not with one foot.
He backed away slowly, his steps careful as he stumbled over the ridges of the tiled ground.
"I don't want any trouble," Rocc called out, attempting to appease them with a facade of submission. He looked around for any means of escape, but couldn't find anything.
"That's too bad," the other pigeon sneered, taking another step closer to Rocc. "We do."
Just as the opposing pigeon closed the distance between himself and Rocc, a loud squawk sounded from the wet air above them.
"Funk off, you Prips," the voice rung out from above the dumpster, displaying a sort of unavoidable authority. "If you want to keep accordance with the treaties, it'd be best for you to leave now."
"The treaties call for no Prips to attack Piges. This chickadee is neither Prip or Pige. He isn't protected by the treaties," the pigeon retorted, keeping his eyes trained on the general location of the voice. The other pigeon, who, for some reason, was protecting Rocc, flew out into the light as he thought of his next answer, the flickering street lamp illuminating his dirtied feathers. It flickered harshly as the pigeon came into view, making the lines of his face seem deeper and creating an eerie glow around his body. His neck was scrawny, matching his beady eyes, easily garnering an unsettling feeling within Rocc. The aforementioned pigeon flapped its wings in two powerful bounds, landing swiftly in front of Rocc.
"I decide who is a Pige," the pigeon who had just flown down spat, causing the three others to scurry a few inches back. The two pigeons behind the speaker had averted their eyes in deference, but the other maintained soundless eye contact with the pigeon protecting Rocc.
"Rupert will not be happy about this, Boeuf," the speaker from before mumbled, only traces of his defiance visible from before.
"Rupert doesn't need to be happy. He needs to realize that compromise is more than agreeing to a treaty. He needs to honor his words," the other pigeon, who Rocc guessed was Boeuf, snapped. "This pigeon here is now a Pige, and you should leave before this situation escalates."
"We won't forget this," the pigeon shot back, ruffling its feathers in disdain. "You can't protect him forever. We'll be back."
