Prisoner of War

Fang awoke in a dimly lit room that looked like a basement, realizing he was chained to a chair with his arms crossed behind him. Sweat poured from his body, and every part of him ached intensely. Despite his efforts, he couldn't break free.

"Urrgh, fuck. Damn it," Fang grunted, struggling but to no avail. He was captured and at the mercy of his captors. He surveyed the room again, feeling his adrenaline spike. It was sparsely furnished with random tables and chairs, along with a punching bag tied to a pole.

Suddenly, the sound of a door opening echoed in Fang's ears, followed by steady footsteps descending the basement stairs. Finally, reaching the bottom, a man stepped into the light. It was Carlos Ramirez, "El Diablo" himself.

"A member of the Miami Dogma, in the flesh," Ramirez taunted, chuckling, approaching with slow strides.

"The infamous El Diablo, before my very eyes," Fang shot back through pained breaths, his eyes full of hatred. Ramirez chuckled again, and as he inched closer to Fang, Fang could feel the pit in his stomach grow deeper.

"You attacked one of my cargo trucks yesterday. Killed my men and took 1500 pounds of the purest heroin. You know what that tells me, boy?"

Fang didn't say anything, but simply kept his gaze on Ramirez. Ramirez came closer, bringing his nose closer to Fang's, meeting him eye-to-eye.

"That tells me that you have no concern for your life." El Diablo's eyes vibrated with a malicious aura. "So it wouldn't be a problem if I fed you to my dogs. I hear Chinese like to eat dogs — maybe it's time we turn the tables."

Fang's eyes trailed off to the ground. "You're not getting your fuckin' heroin back."

Ramirez sent a devastating slug to Fang's nose, and Fang's neck recoiled back. He growled in pain, but took in heavy, slow breaths, trying to stay afloat. He spit blood onto the basement floor. Ramirez didn't stop, giving Fang another blow to his temple, then his stomach. Fang coughed up a heap of blood, but his resolve remained the same. He looked back up at Ramirez with eyes like blazing fire.

"I may not be getting my heroin back, but the Miami Dogma isn't getting their dog back." Ramirez said resolutely, and walked back up the stairs, slamming the door behind him.

Fang experienced a surge of pain coursing through him. Once more, he fought to keep his eyes open as they flickered, and various colored lights danced across his vision. For a fleeting moment, he saw Lucy's face in his mind's eye.

"Lucy..." he murmured softly before succumbing to unconsciousness.

When Fang regained consciousness again, he found himself still chained to the chair, drenched in sweat with a parched throat. Surveying the room, he noticed a small plate, shaped like a saucer, holding a single cold tortilla at his feet. With careful maneuvering, he attempted to lift the plate using his foot, but it slipped and fell midway through his effort.

"Fuck!" Fang exclaimed in frustration, glancing down to see that the tortilla was now resting on his stomach. A smirk crossed his lips as he leaned down and managed to grab the tip with his front teeth, flipping it into his mouth and chewing thoughtfully.

'Thank goodness. Guy's gotta eat. They were gracious enough to give me this much,' he reflected, trying to maintain a sense of humor in the dire situation. Leaning back in the chair, he swallowed the bland tortilla, resigning himself to the challenges ahead.

'The Dogma's gonna come looking for me,' he thought, feeling the absence of his phone keenly. "Too bad they took my phone. I can't know for sure if anybody's looking for me or not. Either way, I'm gonna get through this. I have no choice — it's either that or death.'

With a sigh, Fang leaned his head back and gazed up at the ceiling. "I just had to... fuckin, ugh — gāisǐ de, a ǒ zhēnshi gè báichī! (Damn it, I'm such an idiot!)" he muttered under his breath, spitting on the ground. His saliva emerged red and sticky, requiring effort to expel it completely from his lips.

"Ugh," he grimaced, scanning the room and wiping his lips on his shoulder. "It's gonna be a long night."