#vss365 
I lengthened my stride, turned a corner, and became a blur of furious fur. I growled, “Police!” and pedestrians jumped out of the way. My claws skittered on the wet sidewalk, and I slid to a stop in front of Pinky Chang’s mahjong parlor.

Three burly Emerald Tribe rats sat outside at a table playing cards and drinking rice wine. A beaded curtain hanging over the open door swayed in the warm breeze.

Cops hated the Greens. While the Reds and Blues were tough, they were law abiding. The Green-tails were natural-born crooks. The rats spotted the HPD badge hanging from my collar. The youngest, his paws glowing green under the joint’s pink neon sign, said, “Goin’ in there dog cop, not you.”

My hostility level had dropped from red-hot to pissed, enough to notice that the goons wore rat-tail shivs. The #needle-sharp tail caps were illegal and deadly. But the crappy rat pidgin was the last straw.

I roared and jumped for the door. Two rats high-tailed it down the street, but the third held his ground. He hissed, leaped, and slashed with his tail shiv.

I felt the cut and smelled the blood. The blade had missed my throat and sliced my shoulder. The rat’s pink eyes burned in the darkness as he attacked again. I caught him in my jaws and shook my head. His neck snapped and I tossed him against the wall like a cheap chew toy.
#vss365