It is a bright sunny day in the suburbs. Birds can be heard chirping and singing in every tree. A couple is standing in their front yard enjoying the sun and watching the birds:
"Look Honey! Look at the birds flying around tweeting! I wonder what's going on up there? Maybe they're playing!"
Up above in the blue skies is a cluster of fluttering birds broken from formation.
There are two birds in particular that are especially animated, an Elder and The Deviant:
"Fuck the Formation! I hate flying with you assholes! I am so gone."
"What treason is this? You watch your mouth now goddammit."
"I'm tired of being the end-point. I don't want it anymore. I hate you all!"
"Why you obtuse...impudent...little shit. The end-point is the most important position in the Formation, it is a great honor!"
"Yeah that's why I hate it! I don't want your fake, lousy honor!"
"I'll, I'll kill you! I'll rip you of your feathers. I'll break your scraggly little neck! You will crash to the ground with that treason!"
"You can kiss my ass. I'm outta here."
They dive down into the greens and browns of the world below at great velocity, locked in a high stakes chase worth their lives and their honor. The Deviant is crying out with glee at the excitement.
"Haha yeaaaaaaa!"
The Elder is infuriated beyond comprehension. His tongue darts like mad out of his twisted beak. His age-frosted eyes are wild and spasmodic. He imagines with perverse pleasure the cracking of the bastard's brittle bones between his mandibles. Oh, how will it all end, this horrible spectacle?
Down below the couple are tiring of what they see as simple bird aerobatics. They will never understand:
"Wow just look at 'em go, Honey-buns. Look at 'em go! I bet they're having fun. It's hot out. Let's go inside and make some orange juice."
The couple's backs are turned when the Elder scores a hit, sending some of the Deviant's torn feathers floating down to the earth below. But the Deviant is far from done. He has yet to unveil his ultimate weapon...
