After a day full of rushed activities, Ty eventually found his way to Littlefield arena at Brooklyn. The hall where the contest was going to take place was a mini hall, barely occupying 500 audiences, but that number was enough to unnerve any newbie with a questionable confidence level.
There was a first office where they had to take some sort of attendance, and another registration before they are allowed access into the contest room.
There, a white woman in her mid thirties attended to him. She had a small nose ring under her long hooked nose. Her thin lips were coated in black lipstick, and Ty could see tons of awfully drawn tattoos all over her arms which was visible because of her sleeveless dress. Her hair was too black to be true, but a single strand stood out with a pale, grey color. She looked unintentionally gothic.
"What's your name?" She asked with a blank look.
"Tyrone Johnson. I'm from Brooklyn." The last part wasn't asked, but he was quite nervous. The woman only shrugged.
"And you chose that as a stage name? 'Tyrone Johnson I'm from Brooklyn'?"
"Huh...no. no. That's not... My stage name is Tri—"
[Hell no!]
"What?" Ty was startled by the system's sudden message.
"What?" The receptionist asked, confused.
"Sorry, that wasn't meant for you."
'I should learn to communicate with the system without talking.'
'What do you mean 'Hell no'?'
[You won't be using that same stage name, host. Not under my watch.]
'You mean Tri-Shot isn't cool?'
[Not the least cool. Or maybe it's cool but I do not approve it. You must be shy of new beginnings. Isn't that the same stage name that served you till failure in your past life?]
'Oh, c'mon. How do I come up with a stage name now? I'm in a tight spot, can't you see?'
[I can suggest some.]
[Ty Show? T-Cash? Tyrone The Creator?...]
'Hey, just stop right there. Those are whack ass stage names, for f--k sake. And you're suggesting spin-off names. You want everybody to come for me?'
[Hey, I'm trying to help you out here.]
The receptionist cleared her throat, obviously bored of Ty's long silence.
"Are you stuck selecting a stage name for yourself?"
"Uhm...yes," Ty scratched his head. "I was thinking..."
"Just use Tyrone. The best rappers use their first names."
Ty's eyes flew wide open.
"Oh my God, you're a genius! Why didn't I think of that?"
[C'mon. Don't make me laugh. That's a lame one.]
The woman kept a glum face but shrugged a little. She scribbled something on a file, then typed slowly into a computer. Drawing out her desk, she brought out a tag and handed it over to Ty.
"You belong to the forth group."
"Thank you."
"Psst," the woman called as Ty was about to leave. "I don't normally do this, but you're going up against Tamel The Pimp. He's called The Pimp, but he's actually a simp. He's not the best but he'll definitely kill you out there. Just telling."
"Are you sure you don't normally do this?" Ty was smiling.
It looks to Ty like this woman was a natural hater, and she does this info leak every time. And in addition, she does not look like someone that gives a shit about her work's ethics. Ty could see she was tired of her job and only looking for ways to get laid off easily.
"Please don't tell anyone," she flashed a smile. But there was no sincerity in her request. Ty found her to be fun. She really gives no shit.
"Nice tattoos," Ty smiled.
"Don't lie."
"They're ridiculous," Ty admitted.
"That's better. I painted them myself out of boredom. Stay safe out there. These kids are monsters. And watch out for Tamel The 'Simp'."
"I will." Ty laughed.
Ty pushed the door of the waiting room open, and a very pleasantly offensive smell greeted his nostrils. He could make out the scent of the common weed, the scent of mixes of cheap perfume, of sweat, and what else, anticipation.
Every body in the room turned their attention to him. 'Shit, the pressure is real around here.'
"Yo!" One of the boys yelled from a corner of the room, addressing Ty's presence. "Another sacrificial lamb! I can't wait to accept this smoked offering... I'm a rap god, only I can make you stutter like you're buffering... I am Cain and the same time Abel's offspring... I'll slaughter this lamb and slaughter whoever is next to me..."
"Hey, shut the f--k up, trash god. Let a man rehearse in peace," one of the boys yelled for silence.
Ty was amazed by how quick this boy formed a hard bar at a spot. And it rhymed too. But Ty was also quick to notice some errors in the storytelling.
'If you're a rap god to be offered the lamb, how then are you Cain and Abel's offspring? Well, the empty barrel yells a lot, they say.'
Ty almost laughed, but he minimized it to a side smile. He does not want attention to himself so early.
He picked a seat that was far from the rest of the contestants just to have a little more time to himself to practice his lines.
"Why didn't you reply Bob The F--king Builder?"
Ty almost jumped out of his seat, startled and irritated at the sudden deep voice behind him. "What?"
"Bob. Why didn't you reply him?" The intruder had a plastic look to him. Like, the look was not supposed to belong to him. He looked really mean, but he had a handsome face. There was a little scar across his nose bridge, and his lips appeared to be moisturized. It was a weird combo.
"Why should I reply him in the waiting room? They set up the stage for that," Ty said, still wary of this creepy boy.
"Next time you should reply whoever throws a jab at you. You don't want to appear weak or they'll continue throwing harder jabs till they knock you out." This boy's look was really menacing.
"Ah, I see. I understand." Something in Ty predicted that this was who the receptionist was talking about. "Are you perhaps Tamel The 'Simp'?" Ty couldn't stop himself in time.
"I'm Tamel The Pimp, you fool."
Tamel walked off like a robot, stiff postured.
'This kid is really creepy. I wonder how powerful his bars are.'
Ty brought his notepad out and started rapping silently along to his prewritten lyrics. After he was done with the first option, he moved to the next, using his pen to erase and edit some part. He nodded satisfactorily while he prepared to rehearse that part also.
In his past life, he wasn't always comfortable rehearsing his lines shortly before a performance. But that was after he passed the age of 25. He was now back to being the nervous 18-year-old. Although he wasn't nervous right now, he knew it was only a matter of time. Plus he couldn't afford to stutter while delivering his diss bars. That alone could grant an automatic win to whoever his opponent was.
The rap world is a crazy place where you couldn't allow any flaws.
"You using a notepad?" Someone reached out to Ty again. It was sudden just like when Tamel intruded. Ty would have jumped again if the voice wasn't calm and soothing.
Ty's eyes locked onto her eyes, and all he could think or say was, "whoa".
She was stunning, with her smooth caramel skin glowing like it was lit from within. Her hair was gorgeous, straight and dark. It fell down her back, totally smooth, not like the usual thick, curly stuff, just sleek and pretty. Her full lips curved up in a slight smile, drawing Ty in. He deduced that her eyes could kill if she stared too long, and she had a nose that was a little pointed.
Ty lost himself in her beauty.
She snapped her finger to gain Ty's attention, then pointed to his notepad like it was an embarrassing thing to carry around.
"Yeah...uhh...I...It's uh, Ty. Yes, Ty." He stuttered. He could feel the heat rushing up his face.
"Sorry?"
"Ty. My name's Ty."
"Oh," her smile grew wider. She seemed to understand why Ty appeared hypnotized. Many guys must have given her that expression at first meetings. She was just that beautiful. "I'm Yara. It's also my stage name."
"Stage name? You...you are here for the contest? You rap?" Ty was baffled.
"Well, if it's good enough to be called rap. I'm more of a singer though. But don't mess with me on the stage. You might call me a Barbie but I'll still smoke you like a Barbecue (Barbie-cue)."
Ty nodded at the low bar. It was not solid but cute and admirable. Ty caught himself slipping, but there was nothing he could do to control himself. He was really falling for this beautiful art piece.
"I'll remember not to mess with you," Ty smiled. "What about my notepad? Anything wrong with it?"
"Nobody carries a notepad these days, at least not that type. You look like you're from the past, YN."
'I'm actually from the future,' Ty wanted to say but he stopped himself. Not that it'd raise any suspicion though.
"I guess I just love the feel of pen scribbling against rough paper."
"RIGHT?" Her voice sounded even more high-pitched now. She chuckled a little as she dipped her hand into her bag and brought out a notepad similar to Ty's. "I was joking. I love notepads also. Just trying you out."
She moved a few seats to Ty's left, leaving five empty seats between them as there were still many seats unoccupied.
"Now if you'll excuse me. I need to rehearse how to smoke these naughty brats. I need your lips glued so you don't disturb me, you dig? If you need to tell me anything, you can tell me psychically."
Ty let out a genuine laugh and signalled a thumbs up. Yara flashed one last smile before wearing her serious face, scribbling furiously on her notepad.
Tamel walked creepily behind Ty again, making his imposing presence as eerie as possible. "I see you're getting distracted," he whispered. "You don't wanna do that when you have a battle before you. You don't wanna falter, brody."
Ty's had enough. He hissed irritatingly, but kept his cool enough to keep his fist to himself.
"Man, get your wet ass lips outta here. You look like you been stealing fries behind your momma's unaware ass back."
Tamel spoke with the same slow, creepy energy but he sounded offended. "You're learning, son. Never let any jab go unanswered. Throw more wrecking jabs. Now I like that, son... But don't ever talk about my momma, son. You'll regret that."
He walked off like...a GTA character.
Ty hissed again. "What's the deal with this creep?"
Ty got some useful information from the exchange though. Tamel sounded offended at the mention of his momma. A rapper's Achilles' heel is whatever makes him crash out, and Tamel has shown him one of his weaknesses easily.
Ding!
[You know you have something really useful here...]
'What's that?'
Ty hasn't opened the system since he woke. It never even crossed his mind.
[You got a reward for completing your side quest yesterday.]
[Reward for— Learn how to twirl a microphone round your fingers without dropping it...]
[Aura/Stage presence: level 7 =>> level 8]
'Good. Now I don't have to struggle with having an appealing stage presence.'
[Reward for completing all 3 side quests:]
[Choose: 1000 EXP or a secret mid-tier skill?]
There was no hassle with Ty deciding which to choose. He's had an idea of how the system uses up his EXP when upgrading his stats. That 1000 exp might look huge but he knew he wouldn't be able to upgrade a stat four times, especially now that his stats are near the mid level now, and obviously, each upgrade costs an insane amount of points.
'Give me the secret mid-tier skill, please. I'm done with your EXP scams.'
[Good choice...]
[Side quest reward: "Insight".]
Insight (or Skill Probe): "Insight" is a skill that lets you peek into someone's stats and abilities. With this skill, you can assess a person's overall profile. This skill can be upgraded to Advanced tier using EXP. You get more information about individuals after the upgrade.
[Cost: 5 EXP/day]
'It is a wonder it costs anything at all. Isn't it my skill, and shouldn't I be able to use it without using exp? You do really scam me of those points.'
[5 EXP per day is cheap enough.]
'Of course.'
'Okay then, use up my precious 5 exp for Insight. I need to check how it works.'
Ding!
[insight skill in use.]
Ty found the nearest target to test out the skill—Yara.
A blue screen, translucent, not so different from the Ty's screen displayed over Yara's head while she was busy with her notes.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
[Displaying target's stats]
Name: Yara Benitez
– Creativity: 10
– Lyricism: 9
– Storytelling: 8
---------------------------------------------------------------
– Vocals: 13
– Flow/Rhythm: 12
– Delivery: 10
– Aura/Stage presence: 10
[Skill]: Not Available???
Upgrade "Insight skill" to view target's skills.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"Whoa!"
Ty was so impressed by what he was seeing that he almost let out a shout.
'She's a monster.'
'But if she's this good, why did she sign up for a mere rap contest? I'm sure record labels would scramble to sign and groom her when they hear her.'
It was a shame however that he didn't get to see her skills. The system demanded an upgrade of the Insight skill to be able to do that.
Taking another good look at Yara's stats, Ty could tell that she was more of a singer than a rapper, judging from the fact that her vocals and rhythm were her most prominent abilities. But then again, there was no way to know if she was really good at rap or not. There was no stat that said anything specifically about rap.
Then something clicked.
For the first time, Ty realized that the system never specified if he was a singer or a rapper. The way the stats were named was evident of that fact. Because he ended up having the same stat titles as Yara even though the two of them did not have the same abilities. He was the one who chose the rap path, not the system. The system gave him an option.
[Yes. This is not a rap system. This is a music Starmaker system. My role is to help you achieve the highest level of success as a musician/rapper. I do not chose a specific music genre for the host.]
Just then, the door of the waiting room swung open, and a woman in her mid twenties, dressed in ash colored suit with a tight mini skirt, beckoned on them to exit the room. The show was about to begin.