"As homing pigeons, it's our duty to transport messages... in the worst of conditions: wind, rain, sleet, snow. Bombs exploding, bullets flying! As if that weren't enough, Mother Nature has the audacity to create a little something called... the Falcon! [revealing the picture of the Falcon at them] Twenty pounds of pigeon-eating muscle, measuring five of your wingspans. They like to blindside their prey at speeds in excess of 200 miles per hour. But not to bite, not yet. The first strike is merely for impact. They'll let you drop a bit, making sure you're defenseless, then scoop you up in their razor-sharp talons. And in the dark of the night, you'll have but a split second to recognize friend from foe."