1 Dark Lives
Sunbeams cut through the shadows and gloom of the cold hallways, casting a warm glow on Arell Rose, a solitary figure confined behind bars of metal.
To the world, it was just a jail cell, but to Arell, it was his haven of peace.
The streets of Chicago, once alive with the hum of industry and the richness of cultural heritage, were a distant memory. Now, they were a battleground, a place where the rich thrived while the poor, like Arell, were left to fight for scraps.
"Is Chicago safe?" he scoffed, the question bouncing off the dark walls of his cell. Safe? Hardly. Not when the city was choked by the grip of violence, gang warfare spreading like a virus, turning every corner into a potential minefield. Back on those streets, witnessing a crime was as common as breathing and he hated that he had contributed to it.
Here, within the cold embrace of the cell, there was at least a semblance of order, a twisted kind of peace. A desk, cluttered with books and writing utensils, sat beside the lone bed in Arell's. A red cotton carpet, its familiar stripes offering a semblance of warmth, lay on the cold, damp floor. This place, with its peculiar comforts, was Arell's only refuge from the chaos outside and to him, was like any other bedroom.
Usually, by this time, he'd be lost in the pages of the book he was currently reading, a worn copy of Moby Dick.
Reading was his escape from the harsh realities that haunted him, a way to momentarily forget the bars that confined him. But today, a different kind of reality stared back at him, a reality far stranger than anything Melville could have conjured, one that had far displaced the state of Chicago from his thoughts.
A translucent blue screen hung suspended in the air, pulsating with an otherworldly light. It was unlike anything Arell had ever seen, defying the laws of physics and logic. Curiosity warred with a healthy dose of fear. Had being in jail so long affected him so much that he had gone crazy?
The initial panic, which had even brought a guard rushing in to berate him for the noise, had given way to curiosity. Telling anyone about it would be a fool's errand.
"Floating screens?" he muttered to himself, the absurdity of the situation making him question his own sanity. "Maybe they did put something funny in the food yesterday."
He tentatively reached out a hand, fingers hovering just inches from the cool surface of the screen. Nothing happened. With a sigh, he turned his attention back to the display.
[The RAPPER System.]
Below it, a list of his stats, categorized in a way that sent a jolt through him.
Name: Arell Rose
Alias: N/A
Stats
Strength: 42/100
Agility: 60/100
Stamina: 43/100
Durability: 54/100
Intelligence: 72/100
Charisma: 45/100 (+15 Boost due to mild handsomeness)
Rapper Stats [ Locked]
Hidden Stats [Locked]
Hidden Status's [Locked]
Roulette [Locked]
The numbers next to his physical attributes were a source of amusement, bordering on self-deprecation.
"42 strength? That's barely above a scrawny alley cat," he chuckled, the humor tinged with a bitter truth.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd done a push-up, let alone anything resembling a real workout. "Maybe this thing is just a fancy prank," he mused, "but even a prank can be useful." These thoughts being instantly buried by a suddenly deafening chime erupting from the screen, accompanied by a flash of blinding blue light.
Arell flinched back, his eyes quickly adapting to the change in light. As his vision adjusted, bold text scrolled across the screen.
[HOST WELCOME TO THE RAPPER SYSTEM, THE SYSTEM THAT WILL TAKE YOU FROM THE NOBODY THAT YOU ARE TO THE GREATEST RAPPER OF ALL TIME!]
Arell ran his eyes across the line of text before, finally, his jaw clenched. "Nobody?" he thought, anger flickering in his eyes. 'Greatest rapper?'
Another message materialized on the screen, seemingly responding to his unspoken thoughts.
[ATTENTION HOST THIS IS THE GREATEST RAPPER SYSTEM, MADE TO CREATE THE NEXT BEST RAPPER OF ALL TIME!]
[Starting Gift Pack Awarded]
[Complimentary Gift Pack Awarded]
[A gift befitting a prodigy Gift Pack Awarded]
Arell stared at the screen, a mixture of skepticism and intrigue bubbling in his gut. "So you're sentient?" He asked the system, based off of the system's responses that were based off his thoughts it was logical to assume that the system had some level of sentience.
[You are correct host.]
Arell who's hand was now rubbing against his non existent beard pondered on his next steps, he'd find out what exactly this system was but first-
"How exactly do I access the gift packs?" His tone tinted by curiosity.
[You can access all system functions by simply visualizing it or touching the screen]
Arell without wasting a second reached out and tapped the screen without hesitance.
A digital menu unfolded, revealing the contents of the "Starting Gift Pack" and the "Complimentary Gift Pack." Curiosity gnawed at him but he set aside the "A gift befitting a prodigy Gift Pack." That he was sure would be the best of all the packs.
What kind of Gifts would this system give, and what use would they be for him?
He scrolled through the list of the Starting Gift Pack
Rapper Menu Unlocked
General Rap Knowledge (Beginner) (Common)
Voice Enhancement (+2 to voice attribute ) (Trash)
"Spit some bars." Freestyle Technique (Amateur) (Uncommon)
Basic Music Production Knowledge (Beginner) (Common)
...
"Basic knowledge? Voice enhancement? Sounds like you're starting me from scratch," Arell muttered. He had never considered himself a rapper before, but the idea of having a system that was intent on molding him into one was oddly appealing.
He turned his focus back to the Screen back, willing the starter gift pack into the background.
His gaze then shifted to the "Complimentary Gift Pack," its contents shrouded in a shimmering question mark. "Intriguing," he thought, tapping on it. A dramatic pause filled the cell as the screen swirled with blue light. Finally it revealed itself.
"Trap, Rob, Sex, Kill." Chicago Streets: Lyrical Inspiration (Uncommon)
"Walk it like ya talk it." Charisma and Marketability (+20) (Low EPIC)
"Street Soldier." Hand-to-Hand combat skills (Intermediate) (Rare)
Weapon skills (Intermediate) (Rare)
A jolt of surprise surged through Arell.
The contents of the Complimentary Gift Pack were a mixed bag but definitely surprising rewards.
"Trap, Rob, Sex, Kill?" he scoffed, the cliches leaving a bad taste in his mouth although it was no further from the truth. Still was this system in some stereotypical gangster rap phase?
But then came the interesting parts. "Chicago Streets: Lyrical Inspiration" – Which although being uncommon gave him inspiration to draw upon when rapping, if he took this system seriously that is.
"Charisma and Marketability" – that was something he sorely lacked, and a boost in that area could be invaluable. And finally, "Hand-to-Hand combat" and "Weapon skills"? While unexpected in a rap system, these could prove useful.
"A bit all over the place," Arell muttered, a thoughtful glint in his eyes. "But all these things could be useful tools."
Arell tapped the screen, selecting "General Rap Knowledge" first. A surge of information flooded his mind – the history of rap, different sub genres, basic rhyme schemes, and the importance of flow. It wasn't overwhelming, but it was a solid foundation to build upon.
Next, he activated "Basic Voice Enhancement." He cleared his throat, then hesitantly spoke into the empty cell. Nothing. His voice sounded the same as it usually did, he should have expected that, after all a '+2' to amounted almost nothing.
He glanced at the "Starting Gift Pack" again. A frown creased Arell's brow. The "Basic Voice Enhancement" turning out to be a dud was a disappointment, but it wouldn't deter him. He squinted at the list, his finger hovering over "Freestyle Technique (Amateur)." This seemed like the next logical step. With a tap of the screen, a wave of information washed over him – the importance of improvisation, the art of weaving words on the fly, the power of using the environment to fuel creativity.
He closed his eyes, picturing the grimy streets outside, the clatter of distant sirens, the hoarse shouts echoing off brick walls. He could almost smell the stale air thick with exhaust fumes and desperation.
Taking a deep breath, Arell began to speak. held a newfound conviction, determined to see the affect of the only amateur skill in the pack.
The words tumbled out, at first he was quite hesitant and stumbled on his words, then gaining momentum, weaving a tapestry of his experiences. He rapped about the flickering streetlights casting long, menacing shadows, the hopelessness etched on the faces of passersby, the constant struggle for survival that gnawed at the soul.
It wasn't perfect, far from it, but it was something, something he happened to not be capable of doing until now. The rhymes were uneven, the flow a bit clunky. But there was a spark there, a flicker of something authentic. He stopped, catching his breath, a mixture of surprise and satisfaction washing over him.
"That wasn't half bad," he muttered to himself, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He wasn't a polished rapper yet, not by a long shot.
Suddenly, the harsh clang of his cell door being thrown open made his heart jump out of his chest, shattering his moment of peace. A guard stood there, a scowl etched on his face.
"What's all the racket about, Rose?" he barked. "Someone call for a concert in here?"
Arell's heart sank. He hadn't realized he'd been rapping out loud. But then, his defiance welled up within him. He hated being silenced, an abundance of pride others would call it, but to him, it was simply standing up for himself.
"Just practicing my rhymes, officer," he said, his voice steady. "Maybe someday you'll be hearing them on the radio." His pride remaining true.
The guard snorted, a look of disbelief on his face. "Rapper, huh? In jail? Here's some reality, Rose. The only bars you'll be spitting are the ones keeping you locked up, now keep it quiet and stop with all the racket."
He slammed the cell door shut, and although being lit the cell seemed to darker than usual. The guard's words were a challenge, a dare. And Arell, the once "nobody," was ready to accept it.
Arell's gaze lingered on the shimmering question mark that masked the contents of the "A gift befitting a prodigy Gift Pack." It was the most intriguing of the three, the one shrouded in the most mystery. But before he indulged his curiosity, a wave of pragmatism washed over him,
Three days. That's all that stood between him and the steel bars of his cell. Three days until he was released back into the world, a world that he was far from optimistic about returning to, a world that barely remembered him and likely wouldn't welcome him with open arms, especially some of his old "friends".
A high school diploma, tarnished by the events that landed him in juvie, wouldn't exactly open doors for him. Any potential employers would likely scoff at the gaps in his resume, the glaring absence of any real work experience and that was without mention what their reaction would be to what put him behind these bars in the first place.
Discouragement threatened to gnaw at him, but Arell pushed it down. He had a newfound weapon in his arsenal now – the RAPPER System. This strange, almost fantastical gift might be his only chance to carve out a future for himself, a future that wasn't defined by his past mistakes.
With a newfound determination, Arell tapped the screen, selecting the "A gift befitting a prodigy Gift Pack." The screen swirled with an intense Purple light, his heart racing, the anticipation almost unbearable. Finally, the light subsided, revealing the pack's contents.
