Cops, man. Cops. Policing all over the place, back alleys and outerspace. The cops, maaan, they leave their trace, spray that mace, punch you right in your law abiding face. Living on the street? They displace. There ain't nothing they distaste more than the stink of waste. They eat from a trough and have super powers in a post-war Nazi project paperclip metropolis that turns gold into lead. Flat dead. Blood red. Must shed and become.... police.

"Good. Do not weep. Being is enough."