Ah, the moo-moos. The new gang that's been spillin blood for turf and profit in these sin-paved streets. They're a shady bunch, to be sure; under the radar, above the law, as any good outfit goes. The boys down at the guard station used to tell us that if we didn't interfere then there wouldn't be any trouble, just turn a blind eye to what goes on...So when the dogs turned up dead there was no question who it was that offed 'em, and that camera footage don't lie.
No bribes or threats can change the story them security tapes told, and it ain't no story you tell the kids before tuckin em in at night. Poor mongrels never had a chance. Cobalt, or Old Cobey as the chief used to call him, he put up a good fight. Always was a cut above the others, he was...Good dog. Gonna miss that rascal.
But that wasn't what pushed this troll over the edge, no...Wish I could tell ya they stopped there. But when the moo-moo mobsters get down and dirty, they leave too much of a mess than you can sweep under any rug, not just metaphorically speakin'. So whats next, right? Well...I know a guy, Feng, he works at that joint on Tuesday nights. Word is he's been trafficking purps right under the MM's noses, but as you might've guessed...Those noses sniffed him out. And they ain't no lightweight purps either, no sir...They're the green label sh*t. The kind that goes for six figures easy on the black market. Goes without sayin hes a marked man, now...And ain't nobody gonna stop em, neither. Least thats whats bein' said.
That body's gonna be an example to anybody that gets it in their head to mess with the moo-moos, and mark my words, he won't be the last...