Who Let The Dogs Out?

"Ay, K-9, you ready to hit the party?"

Pitt came up behind Fang, his smile shining over his shoulder. Fang stood in his room, in front of the full-body mirror, adjusting his grey suit jacket. Beneath the jacket, he wore a black button-up shirt, the bulk of his torso revealed, displaying his well-defined abdomen and chest. Around his neck, hanging down his chest, was a silver dog tag with the code name "K-9" inscribed.

"Hey, Pitt," K-9 replied with a smirk, giving one final tug on his jacket. He flashed a grin. "Let's get wasted."

The pair exited K-9's room and entered the maze of hallways. There were people standing in the hallways, drinking and chatting, and once the pair got out to the main lobby, they looked to see that the mansion was indeed full, and raving. It was dark, and strobe lights shone on the ceiling. Fully nude women carrying trays, some holding alcohol, others holding cigarettes, some even lines of cocaine, walked through the bustling room, serving partygoers with a smile. A D-J stood on a stage, one hand on his headphones and the other on his controller. An open laptop was planted on a table, and speakers surrounded the stage.

Men and women, young and old, dressed in their most extravagant outfits, sat on leather couches and shared the Miami Dogma's supply of cocaine on elegant glass tables. Some women twerked and gave lap dances, some sat by their dates and looked pretty.

"This is… all for me?" Fang asked, his eyes conveying genuine surprise.

"Damn straight, dawg," Pitt replied, smirking, leading K-9 down the flight of stairs, to the Living Room, where the rest of the gang was. "We always throw a party when a new member joins. They did it for me too."

The rest of the gang came into view, all of them clad in the gray suits as well, their dog tags gleaming in the dim light. Dane, as always, was the first to greet them. He dapped Pitt up, then he dapped Fang up as well.

"Wassup, fam," Dane said, grinning, holding a blunt in his other hand. "Ay, K-9, hit this shit!" Dane held the blunt out to Fang, and Fang took it and brought it to his lips a little too quickly. The smoke filled his lungs and he held it in for a few seconds before exhaling. Dane let out his hearty laugh. Fang immediately begin to feel the high, and the colors of the strobe lights and the sound of the partiers suddenly enhanced, as did the smiles of his comrades.

"This is my kind of party!" Fang howled, swiping a pack of cigarettes from one of the nude servants.

Dober, sitting on the couch, in uniform, greeted Fang. "Wassup, K-9. How are your wounds?"

K-9 smiled. "I'll be good as new in a few days. Those dogs bit like bitches." The group laughed, and Donny, or Bully, spoke up, making eye contact with Fang.

"Ay, bro," he said, his eyes genuine. "My bad for calling you a Ching-Chong, man. That was fucked up. What you did in the Dog House… the way you fought all five of those dogs… that was pretty badass, my nigga."

Fang nodded, holding out his hand to dap Bully up. "Don't worry about it, Bully. We're brothers now. I'll have your back, you can count on that."

Bully managed a smile, and dapped Fang up. "You ight, K-9. You ight."

Shepherd, the leader of the Dogs, approached Fang. Fang hadn't been around Shepherd enough to know where he stood exactly, but he held Shepherd's gaze with a deep respect in his eyes.

"What you did in the pit was impressive," Shepherd complimented, placing a hand on Fang's shoulder. "Your dog tag looks new and shiny now, so make sure you don't get blood on it on any runs. We always tuck our dog tags in our shirts when we're bouta kill a nigga."

Fang nodded. "Thank you for welcoming me to the team, Shepherd."

Shepherd smiled. "You're one of us now, K-9. Enjoy tonight — you earned it in that pit."

Fang did just that — he enjoyed everything his welcome party had to offer, from coke, to alcohol — the one exception — to pills, to weed, and of course, a buffet of Chinese food. Pitt danced around with girls, taking one or two to his room at a time. Dane and Bully took a chick to a room and weren't seen for a while. Fang, too reserved and self-comfortable to make a move on any woman, didn't mind it. He settled with sitting at the bar, drinking a glass of water. The party raged on, and Dober and Shepherd came over to sit with him.

"Hey," Dober greeted, sitting on the barstool on Fang's left.

"Yo," Fang replied, taking a swig.

"How are you liking your party, Mr. K-9?" Shepherd asked, sitting down on Fang's left.

"It's too good, I'd say," Fang answered, smirking. "Makes me wonder why the hell I didn't get any parties like this thrown for me back in Hong Kong."

The three of them laughed.

Shepherd replied, "Well, I don't know about Hong Kong, but here, you have a home, kid. This is a place where you and your talents will be celebrated. Mr. Hehrbenstrautz doesn't just take in anyone, he takes in those who he sees great potential and importance in. This party — it's only a natural consequence of Hehrbenstrautz's love for you, kid."

Fang nodded, looking at the reflection of himself in the glass of water. He felt strange… like he was part of something greater than himself. The white streak across the right side of his hair suddenly didn't seem so meaningful. "When you put it like that… it really is too good, then."

'I'm not Xuan Ye anymore.' Fang thought. 'I'm Miami Dogma.'

Shepherd smirked. Dober spoke up, "What is this tong thing you be talking about?"

Fang looked over at Dober. "The tong? I am from the Xuan Ye tong. A tong is pretty much a gang, but Chinese."

Dober nodded. "I figured, just didn't wanna make any assumptions."

Fang nodded. "I was adopted by the Xuan Ye tong when I was very young. My mother and father were drug addicts — they both OD'd on heroine and left me to fend for myself. I survived in the Hong Kong streets alone for a while, but one day, when I tried to steal some food from a man eating at a cafe, I was caught. Turns out that man was Xuan Ye himself. He took me in, taught me the ways of martial arts, and I became one of the Xuan Ye's mercenaries."

Suddenly, a woman came up to the bar right between Fang and Dober. She leaned against the bar, poking out her behind. She spoke loosely, and it was obvious she'd been drinking.

The woman was dark-skinned, and she wore an alluring, black bunny outfit, which accentuated the lines of her large breasts, tempting any onlookers. Her hair was a curly Afro, and she wore black Playboy earrings. Her eyes, dark abysses of marrón, pierced Fang.

"Wow, that's quite a story, K-9," she cooed. "So you're the new member, huh…"

"Lucy…" Dober said, his tone unpleasant.

"Whaaat? Why do you say it like that?" Lucy said mock-shock. "I'm just—

"You want some coke?" Fang asked, smirking, letting a small baggy from his jacket pocket peek out. He'd kept one extra for him, but he saw this as a good opportunity to use it.

The woman's eyes became interested. "Ooh, I like you, K-9. But… I want… something else…"

Lucy's fingers traced along Fang's neck, down to his chest. Her hand ran down his abdomen, and trailed off down his left leg, only for her to end her performance at his knee.

Dober acted like he didn't see anything. Shepherd was in conversation with the bartender. Fang was helpless, and his eyes began to wander up and down Lucy's curvy body.

"Come with me, K-9," Lucy whispered in Fang's ear. "I got sum' to show you. It's private."

Lucy took Fang's hand in hers, and led him away from the bar, her steps light and graceful, her hips swaying. Fang's heart beat quickly as she led him upstairs, down the long hallway, her black heels clicking with every step. Fang's expensive, black dress shoes clicked behind hers.

"Which is your room?" She asked.

"This one," Fang said, opening the door to his room. "What are we—wooahh—

Lucy grabbed Fang by his dog tag and pulled him inside, and slammed the door. The lock clicked, and the sounds of the raging party drowned out any trace of the events that followed.