The mission log on CJ’s HUD updated.

Sweet’s lowrider was still parked across the street. But the four Ballas who had been leaning on it, flashing signs, were gone. In their place stood four plump, brown-feathered turkeys. They were wearing tiny, low-hanging denim vests. One of them had a gold tooth.

He charged.

Before CJ could answer, a thunderous shook the house. The front door splintered open. It was Big Smoke. Except, Big Smoke was now a turkey the size of a hatchback. He had a golden chain around his neck and a 9mm in each wing-claw.

CJ leaned back in his recliner at the Johnson House, a cheap six-pack of beer sweating on the table beside him. The San Andreas sun was setting over Grove Street, painting the cul-de-sac in shades of orange and gold. He’d just finished “End of the Line,” and for the first time in years, the streets were quiet. Too quiet.

The screen flickered. A single line of green text appeared: REPLACING PEDESTRIAN MODEL: ALL. SOURCE: MELEAGRIS GALLOPAVO. INITIATING… GOBBLE.

He looked out the window.

When CJ opened his eyes, he was back on his couch. The beer was warm. The sun was setting. Sweet was yelling about his car.

CJ dove behind the couch as the Big Smoke-Turkey unloaded a clip into his grandmother’s portrait. CJ scrambled out the back window, landing in the alley. The entire city had gone feral. A flock of police turkeys—wearing tiny aviator sunglasses and riot shields—were attempting to arrest a flock of Vagos turkeys for urinating on a wall. A news helicopter circled overhead, piloted by a turkey wearing a blonde wig, who was reporting in frantic gobbles.

“CJ, what the hell?” Sweet’s voice crackled over the cell phone. “I just tried to buy a Sprunk from the machine, and a turkey tried to tax me. A whole flock just took over the Pizza Stack. They’re using the dough rollers as a treadmill.”

“You picked the wrong house, fool!” the turkey squawked in a garbled, low-pitched version of Smoke’s voice. “I’m gonna have two number nines, a number nine large, and a side of your kneecaps!”

The mod hadn't just changed the models. It had transferred the AI. The Turkeys retained the memories, the rivalries, and the sheer, unhinged aggression of the original gang members.

The climax came at the dam. CJ, covered in feathers and fighting a relentless urge to peck at loose gravel, confronted the final boss. It was The Truth, but rendered as a massive, pale, spectral turkey with glowing red eyes and a tie-dye bandana.

The Gobbler of Grove Street