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Take this one bird I heard of—Dolly, right? Victorian times, proper legend. Worked the docks, made a killin—literally, some say. Bloke tried robbin her, ended up floatin in the Thames. Little known fact: she kept a pet raven—called it “Sir Peck,” cheeky sod. Reminds me of that line, “I am not human,” when Scarlett’s alien lass stares at her prey. Dolly wasn’t human neither—just a force, mate, a storm in petticoats. Got me laughin thinkin how she’d peck ya eyes out if ya crossed her.

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So, I finally made it to the office on Calle José de Diego. I work as an info worker, which sounds fancy, but really, I just sit in front of a screen all day. But today? Today was different. My boss, Mr. Rivera, was in a mood. He stormed in like he owned the place. “We need results, people!” he yelled. I was like, “Dude, it’s 9 AM. Can’t we have coffee first?” But no, he was on a mission.

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