Studio

The next day, Arell was in high spirits as he entered the storage room he was converting into a studio. He had completed the interview with DJ Akademiks, which had not only boosted his creativity stat to 9/10 but also brought his performance stat up to 84. The quest completion had also rewarded him with an impressive array of new equipment, transforming his original setup into a high professional-grade studio.

As Arell surveyed the room, he couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the new gear:

A pair of Adam Audio A77X studio monitors.

The Universal Audio Apollo 8p audio interface.

A Neumann U87 Ai microphone, the industry standard for vocal recording.

The Akai Professional MPC Renaissance.

A Native Instruments Komplete Kontrol S61 MIDI keyboard controller.

The Avid Pro Tools HDX system.

A set of Waves Mercury plugin bundle, giving him access to some of the best digital audio processing tools available.

The Focal Clear Professional headphones.

Arell ran his hands over the new equipment. This gear could take his music to the next level, but it was up to him to make the most of it.

Settling into his new ergonomic studio chair, Arell fired up his DAW and pulled up the project file for Rihanna My Type. The Afro-Caribbean influenced track had been coming along nicely, but he knew there was still work to be done on the mix.

He hit play, and the room filled with the rhythm:

"How can I stay low-key when I'm livin' so high?

Calabasas mansion, view touchin' the sky

Started from the bottom, now my whole team here

Rihanna in my DMs, but I'm chasin' my fears

Chains on my neck got me walkin' with a limp

Whips in the garage like I'm runnin' outta picks

Fenty on her lips, Fifty Shades in my grip

Good girl gone bad, yeah, she love how I drip

Benz full of dreams and some offshore cash

Caribbean queen got me thinkin' 'bout the past

Diamonds dancin' on my wrist, no need to ask

Started as a actor, now I'm runnin' past your whole cast

How can I stay low-key? Rihanna in my sight (Yeah)

Chains and whips, Fifty Shades kinda night (Ooh)

Fenty in the Benz, got that vibe so right (Right)

Chains on my neck, halfway to the floor (Floor)

Even when they talk, I'm ready for more (More)

Mount Rushmore dreams, big heads in check

They just spent a whole check on my neck

Hen-dog in my system, got me feelin' wavy

Good girl in the sheets, but a freak on the daily

Trap house jumpin' like Jordan, I ain't playin'

Dirty soda in a styrofoam, pour up daily (Daily)

I'm the type to link with Riri and not tell nobody

Hit the club in Saint Tropez, end up in the lobby

Kendalls in my phone, Baddies in my DM

But I'm thinkin' 'bout Robyn, that Barbadian gem (RiRi)

How can I stay low-key? Rihanna in my sight (Yeah)

Chains and whips, Fifty Shades kinda night (Ooh)

Fenty in the Benz, got that vibe so right (Right)

Chains on my neck, halfway to the floor (Floor)

Even when they talk, I'm ready for more (More)

I'm the golden child, I'm the chosen one

The one they all hate but they all copy

I've been losin' friends and findin' peace

Rihanna in my dreams, but I'm chasin' the green

From Degrassi to the top, call me the rap machine

Rolls Royce Cullinan, black on black on black

Pen game crazy, I don't need a ghostwriter for that

Like a broken toy, I ain't nothin' to play with

How can I stay low-key when I'm shinin' so bright?

Diamonds dancin' on my chest in the dead of night

From ATL to the world, I'm a global threat

Young king, young legend, ain't seen nothing yet

Rihanna on my mind, but the grind's my wife

In my feelings, but these millions keep me right

How can I stay low-key? That's the price of fame

Queens of the scene, ain't nothin' but a fling

She bad and she boujee, yeah, she got that island flavor

Moves like Rihanna, bet she taste like sugar cane

Hair bouncing, body rocking, got me in a daze

Oh, she moves like water

Smooth like Barbados daughter

Can't take my eyes off her

She's exactly my type, yeah

Rihanna, Rihanna, that's my type of girl

Skin glistening, hips switching, drive a young man wild

Rihanna, Rihanna, got me singing all night

Girls in my DM, tryna get a taste

But I'm the main course, never out of place

Started from the block, now we out in Paris

Fashion week stunts, but we ain't embarrassed

From the hood to the fame, every step deliberate

Big dreams, fast life, never been illiterate

Benz full of dreams, diamonds on the dash."

Arell nodded along, a smile playing on his lips. "That's tough," he murmured to himself. The beat was infectious, the melody catchy, and the lyrics painted a vivid picture. He checked the rating and saw it sitting at a solid 85.

"Not bad," he mused, "but there's room for improvement. Let's tighten up this mix."

For the next few hours, Arell lost himself in the intricacies of mixing. He fine-tuned the EQ, carving out space for each instrument in the frequency spectrum. The new Adam Audio monitors allowed him to hear details he'd missed before, and he used this clarity to make subtle but impactful adjustments.

He paid special attention to the low end, using the Waves Mercury plugins to add warmth and depth to the kick and bass without muddying the mix. The high-end sparkle of the percussion was enhanced, giving the track an added dimension of crisp, tropical freshness.

Satisfied with the progress on "Rihanna My Type," Arell turned his attention to the mixtape as a whole. He pulled up his planning document and began to reassess the track list:

Mixtape: "Wishing for One of A Kind"

Intro: (Name)

Slimed In

New Track #1

Fair Trade

Whatever She Wants

Rihanna My Type

Blue Balenciagas

New Track #2

New Track #3

New Track #4

Outside (New outro)

Arell decided to remove 'Turn It Up' from the list, realizing its chaotic energy might disrupt the flow he was aiming for. Instead, he chose to keep the more cohesive tracks and add 'Outside' as the new outro, feeling it would provide a strong closing statement for the mixtape.

<> 

He'd been trying to work on an uptempo beat for the past hour, but every time he closed his eyes to feel the rhythm, the image of CDAI's lifeless body flashed before him. The weight of what he'd done, necessary as it was, pressed heavily on his conscience.

"Damn, man," he muttered, running a hand over his face. The beat he'd been working on felt hollow, lacking the energy and life he usually infused into his music. Frustration bubbled up inside him. He knew he didn't regret his actions, but the aftermath was proving harder to shake than he'd anticipated.

After another futile attempt at crafting a beat, Arell pushed away from the desk with a sigh. "This ain't working," he said to the empty room. Instead, he pulled out his notebook and began jotting down lyrics. Words flowed more easily than melodies at the moment, dark and introspective verses spilling onto the page.

Two hours later, Arell called it quits for the day. His notebook was filled with raw, emotional lyrics, but he hadn't produced a single usable beat. Feeling restless and confined, he decided to take a walk around his new mansion, hoping the change of scenery might clear his head.

As he stepped out of the converted storage room that now served as his studio, Arell couldn't help but marvel at the transformation his life had undergone. The grand entryway of the mansion stretched before him, its high ceilings and elegant light fixture a far cry from the modest apartment he'd was just in.

"Man, who would've thought?" he murmured to himself, his fingers trailing along the rich, dark hardwood of the banister as he descended the stairs.

He made his way into the formal living room, where he'd added his own touch to the sophisticated decor. A gaming setup occupied one corner, the latest PlayStation 4 and Xbox One consoles sitting next to one another. A collection of NBA jerseys hung on one wall, a nod to his love for basketball.

The kitchen was where Arell had really let loose with customization. Alongside the professional-grade appliances, he'd installed a top of the line sound system. Speakers were discreetly placed throughout the room, allowing him to blast his latest tracks while he cooked. A fully stocked bar occupied one corner, complete with a variety of premium liquors and a sleek mini-fridge for mixers.

He made his way to the master suite, where he'd transformed the sitting area into a personal relaxation zone. A large, wall-mounted TV faced the fireplace, perfect for catching up on his favourite shows or watching game footage. A small fridge stocked with energy drinks and water bottles sat discreetly in one corner, ensuring he never had to go far for refreshment during long writing sessions.

The bathroom had become his personal spa, with the addition of a high tech shower system that could play music and even steam the room. "Best investment ever," Arell nodded approvingly.

Heading down to the finished basement, Arell couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. This was where he'd really let his imagination run wild. The home theatre now boasted the latest in 4K projection technology, with comfortable reclining seats The game room had been expanded, featuring not just a pool table, but also a row of vintage arcade machines Geoffrey sourced from a collector.

One corner of the basement had been converted into a small recording booth, perfect for when inspiration struck, and he didn't want to trek back up to the main studio.

Finally, Arell stepped out onto the patio, taking in the view of the beautifully landscaped garden. He'd added a fire pit surrounded by comfortable outdoor seating. A grill stood ready for summer cookouts, and he'd even installed an outdoor projector screen for movie nights by the pool he was planning to add.

As he stood there, taking in the expanse of his new home, Arell felt a mix of emotions wash over him. Pride at how far he'd come, gratitude for the opportunities he'd been given, and a renewed determination to make the most of it all.

"Can't let the past hold me back," he said quietly, his mind drifting back to the unfinished tracks in his studio. "Gotta keep pushing forward."

With a deep breath, Arell turned and headed back and returned to his makeshift studio. But as he sat at the mixing desk, and tried to lose himself in the music, but the haunting image of Cdai's lifeless body flashed before his eyes once again. Frustration bubbled up, and he banged the desk, trying to push the memories away.

Determined to channel his emotions into something productive, he decided to work on a couple of possible interludes. Flipping through his notes, he began to look over lyrics he had written.

Million Scholar

[Intro]

(Soft melodic humming)

Million Scholar...

Yeah, baby...

[Chorus]

Million reasons why I can't trust (Can't trust)

But girl, your body's got me crushed (Crushed)

Scholar of your curves, I'm studyin' all night (All night)

Million dollar touches, got me feelin' right (So right)

[Verse 1]

Late night, wine sippin', candles lit (Lit)

Million thoughts racin', but I'm tryna forget (Forget)

Skin so soft, your touch electric (Electric)

Million volts of pleasure, girl, you got me hectic

Didn't mean to fall this hard (This hard)

Million walls up, but you broke 'em all apart (Apart)

Scholar of your heart, learnin' every beat (Every beat)

Million ways to love you, baby, incomplete

[Pre-Chorus]

Don't trust these hoes, that's what they say (They say)

But million reasons why I'm here to stay (To stay)

Scholar of your mind, body, and soul (And soul)

Million lifetimes wouldn't be enough to know

[Chorus]

Million reasons why I can't trust (Can't trust)

But girl, your body's got me crushed (Crushed)

Scholar of your curves, I'm studyin' all night (All night)

Million dollar touches, got me feelin' right (So right)

[Verse 2]

Fuck the fame, the money, and the clout (The clout)

Million things I'd trade just to figure you out (Figure out)

Scholar of your moans, your sighs, your whispers (Whispers)

Million secrets shared between silk sheets and liquor

Trust issues got me fucked up (Fucked up)

Million reasons why I shouldn't give a fuck, but (But)

Scholar of your love, you're my addiction (Addiction)

Million tries to leave, but I'm stuck in your friction

[Bridge]

Million Scholar, but you're the only subject (Only subject)

I wanna study, explore, and love it (Love it)

Every curve, every flaw, every scar (Every scar)

Million reasons why you're my superstar

[Chorus]

Million reasons why I can't trust (Can't trust)

But girl, your body's got me crushed (Crushed)

Scholar of your curves, I'm studyin' all night (All night)

Million dollar touches, got me feelin' right (So right)

[Outro]

(Soft melodic humming)

Million Scholar...

But baby, you're the only lesson I need...

(Fade out)

Arell read through the lyrics, feeling a sense of catharsis. He decided to check another piece.

Trap House Laboratory

[Verse 1]

Trap house laboratory, cookin' up that crystal white

Pyrex my professor, scale never tell a lie

Fiends ring the bell, I'm the plug's apostle

Santa Claus of the streets, I deliver that gospel

Burner on my hip, glacier on my wrist

Money counter stutterin', can't keep up with this

Trap phone blowin' up like C4, clientele insistent

Every day I'm hustlin', DNA of persistence

[Hook]

Stack it, pack it, re-up, repeat (Skrrt)

A-Town trap life, got the block on heat (Fire)

Feds watchin', but they can't see me (Nah)

Pockets deep as Marianas, never come up empty

[Verse 2]

Vacuum seal that loud, smell-proof engineering

Trap house a fortress, neighbors fear the meaning

Paranoid but laser-focused, always ten toes down

One eye on the product, other on the crown

Dough keep multiplyin', like mitosis in my safe

They say crime don't pay, but my accountant amazed

From rags to riches, started with a pebble

Now I'm movin' mountains, call me trap house rebel

[Verse 3]

Trap dreams to GRAMMY themes, I'm livin' what I write

Started in the bando, now I'm toastin' with the light

Still got that hustler's spirit, CEO mindset

From slangin' on corners to Forbes list, no sweat

Money counters burnin' up, rubber bands surrender

Safe room lookin' like Fort Knox, flex no contender

Remember days of famine, now it's all feast

Poppin' Ace like chess moves, trap house beast

[Outro]

From triple beam dreams to triple platinum streams

Trap house cookin' up more than just them white fiends

Turned that dirty money clean, laundered my past

Million Scholar mindset, trap knowledge unsurpassed

Even after he reviewed the lyrics, he wasn't free from Cdai's body flashing in his mind. He stared at the equipment laid out before him. Yet, despite the state-of-the-art setup, despite the lyrics, despite taking a walk around the house, he couldn't shake the image—Cdai's lifeless body sprawled on the ground, eyes wide with fear and disbelief.

He took a deep breath, trying to distract himself. He adjusted the levels on his mixer, but his mind kept going elsewhere. The studio, once a garage, now felt like both a sanctuary and a prison. The air was thick with the lingering scent of sweat and frustration, and the soundproofed walls seemed to close in on him.

He pushed through, forcing himself to focus on the mixer, but the image persisted, flashing in his mind with increasing intensity.

His frustration grew, his breathing becoming more erratic. He tried to shake it off, moving to another track, this time with a grittier, darker vibe. He rapped with intensity, his voice raw with emotion, but Cdai's face kept appearing, disrupting his flow. He clenched his fists, slamming them onto the desk, the sound echoing through the room.

He decided to try something different, even attempting to sing, but nothing worked. The haunting image was relentless, his mind refusing to grant him any respite. Suddenly, his phone buzzed. He glanced at the screen to see a message from The Game on Instagram. The sight of the notification pushed him over the edge. In a fit of rage, he grabbed the phone and hurled it against the wall, watching it shatter into pieces.

The silence that followed was deafening. Arell's heart pounded in his chest, his breaths coming in short, sharp bursts. He felt a deep, burning anger, a need to channel it into something, anything. He turned back to the mic, the heat in the room almost unbearable. He wiped the sweat from his brow and began to rap, his voice filled with fury.

"Demons on deck, tell The Game don't speak my name

Before we catch him slippin', turn his ass to front-page fame

Your homies dropped, now they chalk outlines on the pavement

My squad still breathin', y'all can't hang with our arrangement

D.Rose thought he was slick, now he locked in a minute

Clownin' on a shorty? Real killers would never admit it

True ballers shoot on court, you shoot kids, that's pathetic

Now you blowin' kisses to your cellmate, how poetic

Smokin' on that CDai, inhale, exhale

Catch me where that block hot, bodies hit the scale

Can't come back to Atlanta, y'all ain't built to prevail

Demons lurkin', send you straight to hell

Tell them niggas come outside, we been waitin' all day

How you shot my homie but your squad in the grave?

We in the field for real, y'all just cappin' for the 'Gram

I'm really 'bout that action, ask about me in the slam

Your set full of bitches, mine's full of killers

Your Twitter fingers poppin', we let them choppers deliver

Atlanta ain't your playground, better stay where you safe

'Cause when we catch you lackin', won't be no debate

Your homies droppin' left and right, that depression hit you hard?

Lil Reese better shut his mouth before demons consume him

Think he tough 'cause he from the Lam?

Welcome to the A, we'll school him

I don't cap in my raps, every bar is certified

Reese's pieces scattered, that's your homies on the pavement

Your niggas locked up, now he countin' days, not payments

We don't use legal guns for illegal fun, that's amateur

Your squad's a Jenga tower, one move and it's shattered"

As he rapped, the image of Cdai's body kept flashing in his mind. His anger surged, overwhelming his ability to focus. His voice cracked, his breath hitching. The room felt like it was closing in on him, the heat suffocating. His fists clenched, and he was on the verge of losing control. He stopped rapping, the silence sudden and jarring. He stood there, shaking with rage, staring at the shattered phone on the floor.

For a moment, he contemplated punching the monitor, but he caught himself, taking a deep breath. The anger was still there, a roiling storm inside him, but he forced it down. He turned and walked out of the room, the door closing behind him with a quiet click.

The silence was profound, there were no thoughts, no feelings—just an empty void where his anger had been.