Stoop Kid wasn't really a kid, it was just a nickname. If he had to guess, his age was around thirteen, technically a teen. But "Stoop Kid" had stuck by then. By then, he was a figure in the neighborhood, infamous for being just as he was; A thin figure with a brunette mop on his head and a uni-brow, who would appeared as if grown there, on the front stoop of condemned apartment building on Parker Street.

He wasn't even sure how he get there. He'd just been. In the winter he'd disappear, but only to the inside of the building, never fair from the front door and watching out the nearest window. Thankfully, with the building being so old, and the city so large, another abandoned building was easily overlooked by the city. So power still ran to it most months, sometimes water if the pipes didn't freeze, and the cellar had mounds from coal for an old stove. The only thing harsh about winter for Stoop Kid, was the boredom.

It was the most dangerous thing in winter. Not having any watch or clock, Stoop Kid mainly used the sun. He'd wake up close to sunrise, and sleep an hour or so (going off of the two half-hour TV shows he watched at night) after sunset. With the sun setting earlier and days often dark, he spent many winter days confusing his body by falling asleep in the daytime. Court TV could only hold his interest so long. Though he did have something new to help with boredom; a library card, and a pile of books, (which included a new copy of The Little Engine That Could, and others, like Don't Like the Pigeon Drive the Bus) but even then he could only read so long before his brain or eyes hurt. This didn't help with the sun going down at four o'clock.

That was the time again, just after sundown as the wide-awake teen bundled himself up into a nest made of blankets, hammock and Mr. Bunn, the stuffed rabbit, that he set up in the corner closest to the door under a window. The TV and some newsman blared on and on about the weather, more coming snow.
"No duh! Of course it snows in winter!" Stoop Kid grumbled mostly to himself and Mr. Bunn. Mr. Bunn agreed. Stoop kid paused his ranting to reach over to his mini-fridge and hot plate that he'd moved from the stoop inside for the winter. Really he never used any of the entrance hall, just the one corner he fit his life into. Tonight's dinner was a cold can of peaches that were a little beyond the sell by date. But he never checked that, just found the can-opener.

Then, just during his fumbling, the glow and sound of the TV came to salience and created darkness. Stoop Kid swore a thousand times over as he had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Forcing himself up, he kicked the TV in an attempt to make it work and find the cord. Carefully in the dark he ran a hand along the cord to the wall and gave it a tug; still plugged in. The last time this happened a stupid rat got in the wires and got fried on the roof. Grabbing a bundle of random tools and shaking a little, Stoop Kid took a few breaths before he headed towards the staircase.

One floor.

Two floor, mind that hole.

Third floor.

Fourth, across the support beam on the floor.

Fifth.

He walked a little slower now with each step. The fifth floor was the coldest due to missing instillation and drafts. But that wasn't why Stoop Kid shook a little as he neared the roof. It wasn't hard, it was like the ground...concrete...just...up..higher. A lot-lot-lot higher, and he found himself fighting rats more up there than he ever did on his stoop. The stairs creaked under the little weight he had and he was slow to turn the knob.

Finally, he decide to get it over with and threw open the door before he stepped into the cold air with his tools. Stoop Kid would never forget what he saw up there. So many eyes, more than he'd seen in his life, and none moved or seemed scared.
"GET AWAY YA' DUMB BIRDS THIS IS MY BUILDING!" He swung a tool to scare them off but the ones around only flew away enough to be out of reach. They did this every time before landing again. There was almost too many and after a few swings they got tired of the near abuse and many flew closer as the pigeons understood he was only one and they were just as they started to close in, they'd grabbed Stoop Kid's shirt and pecked a few times, they stopped. A handful of seeds got their attention better.

"Your building? You're just a kid. Hardly hatched by the looks of things." Weather he wanted it or not Stoop Kid was easily to make standing again, but the kid pulled away as he got a view of the speaker.

To Stoop Kid he was an old man, with a graying, thin face, and this weird hat, and weirder long coat with golden rings all around it. Height-wise Stoop Kid came up to his long beak-like nose.

"Yeah, my building. It connects to my stoop. Who the hell are you and all these damn birds?"

'We didn't talk like that when I was your age."

"I don't care, get your crap-makers and shit and get off my building, Grandpa." Stoop Kid dusted himself off and went to regather his tools.
"I have some work to do here, kid." the man said before he paused to coo to one o the younger birds at his feet. "All that you care about is that stoop, right? So what dose me being on the roof affect that?"
"Your rats'll crap on it!" He swung a tool again but missed.

"Okay-okay, look I'll tell them not to crap on your stoop. I'll keep to my things, you keep to yours. Just put the tool down." The old man said with raised Kid lowered it as he thought, a chill went up his spin and he thought back to his nest.
"Fine, but the second I find bird-shit on my stoop old man-I'm comin' for you!" He turned away now back down the way he came.
"It's Vincent." Pigeon Man corrected with a sad shake of his head.