On two wooden peg legs, Pirate Pigeon click-clacks through the gutters of the loop. In his rucksack a jar of peanut butter and a treasure map. 'X' marks the spot. If only he knew how to read. He takes his perch upon the Tribune Tower, besides the gargoyles. He flutters off, headed north this time, toward the brewery. Take cover, he's armed with peanut butter bombs. He might be after more than just our tanks.