Maestro Please

The fight was brutal but swift, the BAPP trio’s skills honed, their dogs a whirlwind of fur and fury. Ricardo tackled the stocky dealer, his fists flying with a personal vendetta, each punch landing with a dull thud, the man’s grunts sharp in the air. Omar and Hassan moved like a tag team, switching seamlessly, their kicks and grapples fluid, the knife clattering to the pavement with a metallic ring. The dealers crumpled, disarmed, and begging, their pleas drowned by the dogs’ triumphant barks, the air heavy with the coppery scent of blood. Ricardo, Omar, and Hassan stood tall, their faces streaked with sweat and blood, fist-bumping with a quiet pride, the streetlight’s glow casting their silhouettes long and defiant. They owned this moment, respect swelling, the night’s cool air brushing in their faces as they walked off, leaving the dealers humiliated in the dust.