For One Night Only, We're All Crips
With the mic in hand, Snoop-Duck began to speak slowly, every eye at the party fixed on him.
"First off, thanks to all y'all for coming out to my birthday party, even with how busy everybody is."
With his trademark laid-back swagger, he offered his thanks to the crowd.
"We got tables, so any rappers out there who think their music's the illest, come on up and drop it."
The lighthearted joke sent every rapper in the room into laughter.
But it only lasted a moment.
When Snoop-Duck followed up by pointing at me, the atmosphere sank like a stone.
The Black rappers here had all been invited by Snoop, their king, and they eyed the outsider among them with unmistakable wariness.
Whether he noticed or not, Snoop just kept talking.
"And this here fella, y'all probably don't know who he is... goes by Sin. C'mon up here for a sec."
Snoop called me up.
I almost declined out of sheer awkwardness, but before I knew it, I was climbing the stairs.
Snoop threw an arm around my shoulder and spoke with unmistakable pride.
"Yo, my man. Tell 'em what a badass you are."
"...Me?"
That was news to me.
"Didn't I tell you? About the crazy fool who smashed a bottle at the last party and then challenged folks to arm wrestle on top of the glass."
Hearing Snoop's story, the rappers finally seemed to realize who I was.
...Mercy clearly explained who I was earlier, though.
Had she really not mentioned I was a pro wrestler?
When I tilted my head slightly in confusion, Snoop leaned in and whispered carefully.
"I didn't go saying anything about your skin color, see... That's why they're all acting like this, my man."
"Even I'd be surprised. A hot pro wrestler who turns out to be Asian."
"They're all a bunch of dummies, that's why."
Chuckling lightly, Snoop picked his speech back up.
"Anyway, he's a pretty solid dude, so don't freeze him out. Go talk to him."
Snoop's introduction seemed to do the trick of loosening their guard.
One by one, shoulders relaxed around the room, and I let out a quiet breath of relief.
But the real show came next.
"Alright, everybody let's get it!"
As Snoop-Duck hollered, the DJ at the turntables dropped the beat.
The moment I recognized the song, I glanced over at Snoop, who had already lit another cigarette, and asked.
"This is the new one, right?"
"Yeah. It's called 'Blaze It Up Hot.' Doing pretty well for itself."
"It's great."
And regardless of my opinion, Snoop-Duck's new single really was shaping up to be a monster hit.
It would climb to the top of the Billboard charts, and by year's end it would sweep a pile of awards at every major ceremony.
The black-and-white music video, in particular, would become a phenomenon.
"You know your hip-hop. Much appreciated."
With an easy grin, Snoop offered me a glass of vodka.
"It's a solid track, apart from the fact that the music video isn't out yet."
"Wait, it's not out yet?"
"Haven't come up with anything that feels right, you know?"
Snoop-Duck shook his head.
Of course, knowing exactly what that music video would turn out to be, I figured this problem might resolve itself rather easily.
"The way I see it, you should be dancing in it."
"Me?"
"Yes. The C-walk, for instance."
"You know about the C-walk too?"
"It's famous, isn't it?"
I answered with a small smile.
The C-walk was the signature dance of Crips gang members.
A light, rolling footwork that traced the letters C-R-I-P-S with your feet as you moved.
In my past life, in the version of that music video I remembered, Snoop had danced the C-walk while rapping his heart out.
The problem was that, at present, the move belonged exclusively to the Crips.
And most of the people at this party were Crips through and through.
"Well then, let's see it."
"...Me?"
"Yeah. Shake it nice and cool."
"I'd rather not get shot, thanks."
"Can't put one over on you, huh."
He'd apparently been testing whether I'd brought up the C-walk as a casual provocation.
Snoop, who had been slouching there for a moment, slowly stepped forward.
Then, shifting his weight foot to foot, he began to ease into the C-walk.
"Ooh, this is good. It fits the track."
"Looks awesome."
"You think so? Damn, 2-Shock's gonna fall over dead when he hears I got a soft spot for an Asian friend."
Snoop kept dancing, clearly taken with my idea.
That was when a few more memories surfaced, and I kept going.
"You should have a lowrider in it too."
"A lowrider? How?"
"Like this."
I mimed turning an invisible steering wheel lightly in front of my chest.
"Ohhh, that's actually nice."
"Hey, Snoop!"
Just then, one of the rappers hanging out down on the lower floor shouted up.
Someone I recognized.
It was Dr. Dre — a giant of West Coast hip-hop alongside Snoop-Duck, and widely regarded as the greatest producer in the game.
"If you're done talking, get down here and grab a drink!"
"Maaan, don't just stand down there, come up. I just heard something incredible."
"Huh?"
At that, Dr. Dre, still holding his drink, climbed the stairs.
"What's this about?"
"My new track. I'm thinking of putting this dance in the music video."
"The C-walk? Damn, why didn't we ever think of that?"
"I didn't either. All of it came from this fella right here."
"Wow... Sin, was it?"
"Yes, Mr. Dre."
"Damn, lose the 'mister.' Just call me Dre. Coming up with the C-walk — that's a brilliant concept."
"Get in here and dance!"
"Man, do I look like a gangster to you?"
"But you is one, my nigga."
Dropping the word Black rappers used for each other with easy familiarity, Snoop-Duck grabbed Dre by the arm and pulled him in.
The moment the two biggest names in the villa started dancing together, all eyes turned their way.
Sensing the mood, I gave a nudge to Snoop-Duck, who was still grooving beside me.
"Everybody wants to join in."
"That's my Crips right there."
Grinning, Snoop and Dre descended to the first floor, dancing all the way down.
Honestly, for the birthday party of a chart-topping rapper, the whole thing felt almost wholesome(?) — but there was a good reason for that.
Specifically: Mercy, the girl who had monopolized the affection of every rapper at this party, was in attendance.
Still, everyone seemed to be having a genuinely good time C-walking.
"Uncle, you look so cool!"
Mercy, who had gotten bored while I was up on the upper level, burst into giggles the moment she saw Snoop-Duck's dancing.
That only fired Snoop up more, and he danced to the beat with everything he had.
[Snoooooooppppp~~~!]
Rappers kept C-walking along to a woman's sultry, drawn-out cry.
As they did, Tiffany sidled up beside me, looking utterly bewildered.
"What... is this?"
"A demon summoning ritual."
Pinch.
She pinched my cheek. Hard.
"...He mentioned he was stuck on the music video concept, so I told him an image that came to mind, and it turned into this."
"How are you this well-versed in this stuff too?"
"No, it's more that I *don't* know much — which is how I spot the obvious things the actual experts overlook."
That was exactly why working through things step by step mattered more than anything.
In my past life, I had no idea who had been the one to suggest pairing this song with the C-walk. Now, that someone was me.
And I had a feeling that fact was going to come in handy.
"You're unbelievable."
Laughing as if to say she gave up, Tiffany soon lost herself in the music.
"The song itself is really good. I'd heard it was popular."
"I'd bet on it taking home some awards by year's end."
"The lyrics are kind of trashy, though."
"...Mm, well, about that."
"'Whiter than the snow going down your throat.' Ugh..."
"That one's about toothpaste."
Pinch.
"I'm sorry. The lyrics do feel a little trashy."
"Hey, you two."
Just then, Snoop-Duck, still dancing up front, called us over.
"You came as my guests, so how about, just for today, you become Crips?"
"..."
"Oh my, what an honor."
While I stood there frozen by the proposal, Tiffany slid in among the rappers with an easy, charming laugh.
Everyone welcomed her with open arms.
To be fair, they hadn't made a big deal of it when we came in, but they'd clearly had their eye on the beautiful Tiffany all along.
And the moment she started showing off that bright, outgoing charm, she melted right into the crowd of rappers.
"Ooh—!"
"Sis, it goes like this."
"Like this?"
"You're good at this?"
"Let's do it together!"
And so, one thing became absolutely certain.
This being a rapper's party, these people truly knew how to enjoy music.
"S-Sin! Come on, join us!"
In the end, even I — personally invited by Mercy — had no choice but to become a Crip for the day.
Mom, I'm sorry I became a gangster.
Thus the party raged until dawn, and when it finally wound down, morning arrived.
The rappers, having danced and talked the night away, drifted off one by one into whatever random rooms they could stumble into.
With the last two of us standing, Snoop and I checked that Tiffany and Mercy — the first to crash — were sleeping safe and sound, then stepped outside for a moment.
The second-floor terrace.
The rising sun was painting color across the sky.
Still carrying a faint buzz and the weight of exhaustion, I stared in disbelief as Snoop lit yet another cigarette.
"You smoke that much, and I've never once seen you run out of breath while rapping."
"Man, I was born to this."
Chuckling, he tipped the vodka bottle straight to his lips and swallowed a gulp.
"You're the crazy one, though. Winning over the hearts of all those rappers in one night like that."
"...Did I, now?"
"Inside, Tiffany was the showstopper — but outside, that was all you."
He pointed at the swimming pool.
"I'd wager you're the first person ever to suggest going for a swim on a freezing winter night."
"I... did that?"
Truth be told, it had been a while since I'd drunk that much, and chunks of last night were simply gone.
"It was legendary. You proposed draining the whole pool, filling it back up with vodka, and drinking your way through it."
"..."
"Thank God Mercy fell asleep early."
"A hero can't be seen like that, right?"
"Right. But now I know what a magnificent bastard you really are."
In other words, I was even more charming in person than anything television could capture?
"We should meet up like this when you've got downtime. You good with that?"
"Or, well... we could always drink after working together, too."
"Hm?"
Snoop arched an eyebrow.
That was a different tune from a moment ago. Whether he sensed the shift or not, he set the vodka bottle down.
"What's on your mind?"
"Well, it might be too grand a word to call it 'business.'"
I smiled faintly.
The mood was right, and it felt like now was as good a moment as any to bring it up.
Building connections with the rappers was one thing — but what I wanted, concretely, was Snoop-Duck's help.
"I have a movie coming out soon."
"A movie?"
"Yes. We're planning a premiere screening as well. Would you consider coming, if..."
"What kind of movie?"
"A horror film."
"Hmmm."
Contrary to my expectations, Snoop didn't immediately say yes.
Lost in thought, he fired a few more questions at me.
"A premiere screening means it's getting a theatrical release. What's your role?"
"The lead."
"Really? A horror movie starring a pro wrestler, huh..."
Snoop drummed his fingers against his jaw.
"Sorry, man. It's just that I make my living off my image, you know how it is."
"I understand."
"Going to some event like that, catching the media's eye, getting written up as a weirdo — that don't sit right with me at all."
"You're the one who's free, though."
"...You caught that, huh."
"It's pretty obvious. What makes you so magnetic is that image of a man bound by nothing and no one."
"True. But I've got to keep the line where it stops feeling like 'weirdo' and starts feeling like 'free.'"
Snoop broke into a slow, rolling grin.
"My whole business is building illusions for the masses and giving the people exactly what they want to see."
That was Snoop's medium: rap.
By contrast, ours was expressing it with our bodies in the ring.
That very contrast gave me the answer I could offer him.
"What if the story was that you simply couldn't miss your friend's first movie?"
"Friend?"
"Yes. And not just any friend — the hottest Asian in the game right now."
"An Asian friend, eh."
"Not caring one bit about race and befriending anyone who's worth knowing. Isn't that exactly who Snoop-Duck is?"
I smiled as well.
If we played up our relationship just a little more publicly, it would only help reinforce Snoop-Duck's free, unbound image.
"Not bad at all."
Snoop-Duck extended his hand toward me.
And with that, it was all but guaranteed: Hell's Saw would begin its run under far brighter media scrutiny than it ever had in my past life.