Ty pushed the status screen away and rose along with the others to leave the room.
"Hey, won't you wait for me?!" Yara called.
"My bad."
They both walked down the room and exited with the others.
"Don't get any wrong impression. I'm only going with you because it gets lonely in there. I'm going in with the forth batch," Yara explained while strapping her little bag on.
"Of course. Have you been here before?" Ty asked.
"Yes. I took part in the last contest."
"And...let me guess, you didn't win?"
"I didn't take part as a contestant," her mouth curved up in a practiced wicked grin. "Don't ask."
"I wasn't going to."
'There is a lot about this girl that is hidden. She must know a lot about the competition if she's been here before. How I wish the system could display her skills.'
They got into another waiting room, this one was close to the main stage. Only a wall separated them from the stage.
There were four rows in the waiting room, each row for each batch. There were also four batch in total.
Each batch contained ten contestants. So, automatically, there was going to be five face-offs per batch.
Since Ty and Yara both belonged to the forth batch, they walked down to the last row and sat close to the end of the row.
Tamel also belonged to the forth batch. Ty knew, thanks to the receptionist's info leak. It still bothered him that he was going to face the creepy kid. Tamel sat stiff-necked a few rows ahead of Ty and Yara. He casted one long look at Ty before turning away.
"You know that kid?" Yara asked.
"Never seen him before. Do you also think he's creepy, or do you think he's faking it?"
"Well, Tamel is many things. If you were from around here, you'd know of him. Everyone knows he's ruthless on stage. He won't tip my scale though," Yara said simply.
'This girl sure has a lot of information. Maybe she even knows who was going to face who,' Ty thought.
"We belong to the same batch. Do you think we could be opponents?" Yara asked, looking eager.
"Mm...I don't think so."
'I'm stuck with Tamel The Simp.'
"I don't know why they never reveal who your opponent was going to be beforehand. It's not fair." Yara sounded bothered but she does not look it.
While they waited, Ty decided to use the "Insight" skill on Tamel.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
[Displaying target's stats]
Name: Tamel Baltimore
Stage name: Tamel The Pimp
– Creativity: 9
– Lyricism: 9
– Storytelling: 11
---------------------------------------------------------------
– Vocals: 4
– Flow/Rhythm: 6
– Delivery: 8
– Aura/Stage presence: 5
[Skill]: Not Available???
Upgrade "Insight skill" to view target's skills.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
'Huh...except for his storytelling and lyricism, he's not at all better than I am. But he sure gets an edge over me with those better stats. This is going to be a tough one.'
Some other boys stormed into the waiting room, and Ty recognized one of them to be the yelling fool who threw a good rhyme at him as soon as he entered earlier. The boy had sandy brown hair. He was a little on the plus size and he was dressed in deep brown hoodie. He was chewing a popsicle stick as he sat a few rows between Tamel and Ty.
Curiously, he checked his stats also:
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
[Displaying target's stats]
Name: Bob Griffin
Stage name: Bob The Builder
– Creativity: 7
– Lyricism: 6
– Storytelling: 15 (Breakthrough)
---------------------------------------------------------------
– Vocals: 12
– Flow/Rhythm: 10
– Delivery: 5
– Aura/Stage presence: 5
[Skill]: Not Available???
Upgrade "Insight skill" to view target's skills.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
"Wow!"
'This Bob kid has an insane level of storytelling, and his vocals is only a level less than Yara's. His delivery is however low and he has a poor stat for aura. Even his Lyricism is lacking.'
'With vocals and storytelling stats as high as that, he's better off singing other genres of music. He's not really good for rap,' Ty deduced.
'Does he even know that he's that good with the vocals? I bet he doesn't. So many misplaced priorities around here.'
Ty kept inspecting people's stats randomly, entertaining himself by judging them or applauding some outstanding stats.
He was so lost in his inspection that he didn't notice that there was someone stomping up the stairs in the direction where they sat.
"You know, I can see that thing on your face," the boy proclaimed while sitting down comfortably beside Ty. Ty and Yara exchanged puzzling looks, and none getting an answer, both shrugged, clueless. He wore a white tee with the words, "Pass The Mic, Let Me Drop It" inscribed on it. His hair was spiky, dusty brown, and his dancing eyes were green in hue. Ty felt he had really beautiful eyes. He had a little mole under his nose. His mouth were pressed into a thin line.
'Shit, can this boy see the system's screen? What is he talking about?'
"What...can you see?"
"I can see it, the nervousness in your eyes. You've been staring at nothing for some time now."
Ty heaved a sigh of relief. His fear subsided. 'Guess they selected the best creeps for this show.'
"Hi, I'm Petyr. Petyr Hudson, and I'm not nervous. Everybody calls me Pete." He extended a hand.
Ty took his hands and from the touch alone, Ty could tell that Pete was a nervous wreck. His palms were cold and sweaty and they trembled like a leaf caught in the wind.
'You are evidently not nervous.'
Pete offered a hand to Yara as well, but she stretched out a fist, suggesting a fist bump. Pete took it anyway.
What was surprising to Ty however was the fact that there were loads of empty seats in the hall and Pete could have sat anywhere, leaving spaces between him and other contestants for privacy just like everyone else is doing. Yet he chose to come sit next to where Ty and Yara sat alone at the back, making it look like they were a trio.
"Look, it's starting," Pete said, smiling nervously while he wiped the sweat on his palms against his black jeans. The first batch was called up. A group of ten walked out of the hall onto the stage.
The giant projector screen flickered on, and they could all see the grand view of the stage. The audience seats were already filled to the brim. A thunderous cheer rose from the crowd as the contestant trooped in.
A female MC, the event host with the name "Black Gold T" grabbed the mic and welcomed the group to stage.
"Yooo, what's good everybody!
"Big shoutout to our incredible MCs. Yeah, I can see the crowd's gettin' wild!
Put your hands together for the stars of tonight – the rap contestants, steppin' up to claim the throne!And they all ready to spit fire. Let's make this rap battle one for the books..."
Pete turned to Ty. "I heard they brought a special guest, and that guest is going to be part of the judges."
"Hmm."
Ty knew the idea of judges in a rap contest like this was just for courtesy sake. The judges only explain the rule, correct mistakes and try to motivate or demotivate contestants as they seem fit. But the real judges are the audience.
In truth, there are no real rules except what the crowd permits. The crowd determines who wins or not. They could overpower the judge's decision with just their shout of discontent. It's not like an idol audition where nothing gets past the celebrated judges.
The camera zoomed on the faces of the judges sitting close to the stage. There were four of them, three of them were the same judges from the past editions:
Vocalistic, a really handsome thirty five years old man with a well trimmed beard that sent macho loving women into a frenzy. His jaws look like they could easily take Conor McGregor's knee attacks without breaking. He wore his signature dark blue suit, and in his hand was a golden pen he never uses.
The second judge was a woman who Ty thought was Teyana Taylor at first, but on closer look...Ty still couldn't change his mind about what he was seeing. "Hell, she's Teyana Taylor."
"No, she's not." Yara corrected him. "That's Ronda Bryant. She's really beautiful, but she's the strictest of the judges here."
She was chocolate in complexion, and she wore a close cut blond wig. Large hoops for earrings adorned her features, and slowly, she chewed gum. It was hardly noticeable.
The third judge was a bald headed black man dressed in a smart, brown, thick sleeveless clothes. His pants matched as well, and one could clearly see the latest Jordans sneakers on his feet. Black Gold T introduced him as, "Dirty Diamond."
'This one is really fashionable,' Ty conceded.
But the forth judge, the special guest was who stood out the most even though he wasn't as regally dressed as the rest. He was a star in the rap industry and thus, couldn't go unnoticed.
The dark skin, the tinted dreadlocks packed to fall on the back of his neck. The square-rimmed golden glasses, and that commanding aura to him. It can only be...
"Welcome Future!" Black Gold T yelled.
The crowd erupted in applause and cheers while Future rose to acknowledge the welcome.
Now if Ty wasn't nervous before, he was now more than nervous. Future happened to be part of his top five best MCs currently. Seeing him now on the judge's seat really made him uncomfortable. His favorite was going to judge him, maybe even harshly.
He tried to use the Insight skill on Future, but the screen displayed nothing.
There were two guesses: either the skill does not work if he was viewing the target through a screen like he was doing now, or maybe the skill just does not work on pro artists who already has insanely high stats.
Ty guessed it was the former, but he promised to check it out again once he was on stage and he was seeing Future directly.
"Ugh, Future. Never a fan," Ty heard Yara say.
"Excuse me? Don't start a world war saying something like that near me," Ty countered.
"Yeah," Pete added unbidden, "Future has no hater."
"Well, except me then," said Yara.
Black Gold's voice blasted out of the speakers as she spelt out the basic rules of the contest:
"Yo. Y'all probably know how it goes, but I still gotta list Dem rules, yunno," Black Gold began.
"First, you gotta rhyme. You can just say words what end with different sounds, people. Let the audience feel those rhymes, you feel me?
"Secondly, you can't re-use bars. Once you landed a blow with the same bars, let it go. You'll only do yourself a discredit if you try that.
"Also, you can't use others' bars. You ain't no copycat. Find bars for yourself, people. I trust y'all though. And of course, you can't read off of your phone, notebook if you forget your bars. Heck, why are you even forgetting your bars? We don't play here.
"Now to the sensitive part... If you're white, you can't say the N-word or make racist jokes about black people that involve stereotypes generally. The same goes for Blacks also. No racism shit in here, people. It's respect for every race and culture.
"I don't need to spell this out to you, but you don't talk while your opponent is rapping. You also can't physically touch your opponent in an invasive or disrespectful way.
"No physical contact. Participants are expected to engage in verbal sparring without resorting to physical violence or touching their opponents. Rap battles are meant to be a battle of words and creativity. If your fist itches, go pay Mike Tyson a visit.
"And lastly each participant is given a time limit of one minute to deliver their verses. In some special cases, the audience or the judges can demand a second round for the same contestants. The second round only lasts 40 seconds. Make it all count, people. Good luck!"
The ground was cleared for Future to share some words of encouragement. After that, the stage was cleared and the first contestants were called.
"Big hands for Mick Hills all the way from the big state of California...
"And welcome Shukirah from the neighborhood, Brooklyn!"
Like paid actors, the crowd rose in unison welcoming the first contestants of the day.
Mick Hills was eighteen. A lanky pale faced boy with a bright smile and a slight swagger to his steps. He gave off the energy of one who has a rich origin and was only doing the rap game for fun. His sharp looking face cap was turned backwards and he chewed gum with a playful sneer plastered on his face.
Ty felt like violating one of the rules by punching that sneer off his face.
Shukirah however was a tomboy who appeared in a see-through sleeveless with a white underlayer. Covering her hands up to her wrists were leather gloves with red fiery designs. She had dreadlocks for hair and the ends were tinted golden.
Mick and Shukirah were each clipped with little microphones around their collars. Ty felt he would appreciate a proper mic but the little ones were advantageous because they enable easy movement for the rappers while they are in action, dropping their lines.
Both contestants were finally left to face each other. Behind Shukirah were eight men, all mean looking, hefty and ready for business. They wore different clothes but the red, fiery designed gloves was common to them all.
'They must all belong to a rap group, including Shukirah. That, or Shukirah selected a costume to show solidarity in her group of supporters. Either way, they looked cool matching like that,' Ty said to himself.
Behind Mick Hills were ten boys his age, eight of them white. The last two with dark complexion stayed behind the rest, acting like some sort of guard even though they were peers. They all dressed in expensive clothing. Their shoes caught the attention of everyone. They were the latest. So, Ty was right when he predicted that Mick Hills was from a rich background.
Ty had never participated in a rap contest, but he's seen a lot of it to be experienced in the settings. He was however bothered about the fact that he forgot a contestant could bring his supporters upstage for the hype.
He had not informed anyone but Huey about the NHL rap battle, and even if he did inform Huey, he never invited him for support. He had forgotten to inform Old man Breezy also. So, it's a no-brainer that Ty was going to be facing Tamel alone on that stage. The fear of being alone sent shivers down his spine.
Yara tapped him to check out something on her notepad. It helped distract him from his dooming thoughts a little.
The first to go was Mick Hills. He began after the countdown:
"...Ahem... They paired big Micks with some feminine boy now
Oh wait, she's really a girl? wow
Those shaggy dreadlocks like she a mad drunkard in the inn
But you know I don't give a shit about sex when I'm about t
o begin..."
The intro from Mick Hills alone got the crowd raving like crazy.
Mick stopped pacing as the DJ switched to a rapid, trap beat.
Mick immediately started spitting his lines as soon as the 1 minute countdown began...