Akademiks leaned back in his chair, adjusting his mic as the stream chat scrolled past at breakneck speed. It was the day of the Billboard Music Awards, and while the world was buzzing with excitement over the ceremony, Akademiks had decided to stream before the main event kicked off.
"Yo, we're out here, man," Akademiks said, his voice crackling with the energy of the live stream. "Billboards is about to go crazy tonight! Who do y'all think's takin' home the most awards? My bet's on Taylor Swift—she got the industry behind her heavy. But let's see what happens. I think Abel's got a shot too. Beauty Behind The Madness was no joke!"
The chat exploded with predictions and opinions, usernames flashing by as chat spammed their thoughts. He took a sip of his drink, leaned forward, and clicked around his monitor.
"And don't forget about our guy Arell, right? This man got nominated, bro! Dude's coming in hot. Fair Trade cracked the Top 10, and 'Flex'? You already know. It's a banger. It's dope to see how far he's come, from being locked up to making Billboard nominations. Crazy how life flips like that."
The stream chat blew up, messages flying across the screen as fans voiced their support for Arell.
"Arell's a legend in the making!"
"Fair Trade was fire!"
"He's killin' it, bro!"
"I'd sell my soul to Arell!"
Akademiks grinned, watching the energy in the chat build. It was always fun to feed off the excitement, especially when they were this engaged.
Suddenly, one of his team members, who monitored the stream behind the scenes, pinged him with a message. The subject line on the file grabbed his attention: "Leaked Footage – Arell vs. The Game Fight"
"Wait… What's this?" Akademiks muttered, leaning closer to the screen as his chat continued to scroll like wildfire.
Without missing a beat, he clicked the file and opened the video. The grainy footage loaded, and he could immediately make out Arell's face.
"Ohhhh, shit," Akademiks said, eyes widening. "This man Arell got into it with The Game? Wait, wait, wait, this just happened?"
The chat exploded with question marks, fire emojis, and fans screaming for Akademiks to press play on the video. His heart raced as he glanced back at the clip.
"Hold up, chat. We about to watch this together. Y'all seeing what I'm seeing?"
He clicked play, and the sound crackled through his speakers. Arell was squaring up with The Game. Their crews forming a loose circle around them. You could almost feel the weight of what was about to happen.
The Game's voice cut through the video with a sneer. "Look who finally decided to show up. The big man himself."
Arell's expression was ice cold as he responded, "Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about you."
"Yo, this is about to be wild," Akademiks whispered, almost to himself, as the video zoomed in.
The two rappers squared off, their voices heated as they exchanged words. Every second the tension mounted, you could feel the shift. Then, just as the taunts hit their peak, The Game lunged forward, swinging wildly.
"OH SHIT!" Akademiks shouted, his chair screeching as he leaned forward, eyes glued to the screen. The chat was losing its collective mind.
Arell dodged the punch, countering with a clean jab to The Game's ribs. The fight erupted, and the camera, steady, caught every moment.
The chat was going ballistic:
"WORLDSTAR!!!"
At one point, The Game connected with a solid hit to Arell's jaw, and he staggered but recovered almost instantly.
"Damn, The Game got him with that one," Akademiks commented, wincing as he watched Arell shake it off.
The brawl continued to escalate, with both landing blows. The camera focused on the others who were also deep in the action.
"Yo, Arell niggas' out here throwin' hands too! This whole crew legit!" Akademiks shouted, barely able to contain his excitement.
Suddenly, Arell gained the upper hand, driving The Game into the ground with a powerful headbutt. The raw sound of bone connecting echoed through the video, and The Game crumpled, his nose bloody.
Akademiks watched, mouth slightly open, as Arell pressed his advantage. Punch after punch connected with The Game's body. But just as the fight seemed to be ending, another person appeared out of nowhere, delivering a kick to The Game's chest, sending him sprawling.
"Yo!" Akademiks hollered, slapping his desk. "Y'all see this shit?!"
The camera panned to The Game's entourage, who hesitated before finally stepping in to drag him away. Arell, his chest heaving, glared at them as they retreated.
Akademiks' chat was in full meltdown mode:
"Arell gotta be next-level for this shit."
"THE GAME GOT SMOKED!"
"ARELL JUST ENDED HIS CAREER!"
"ARELL PUTTING EVERYBODY IN PACKS!"
"THE GAME GOTTA BE HOMOSEXUAL AFTER THIS!"
"Nah, Arell dead be touching niggas."
Akademiks leaned back in his chair, breathing hard as though he had been right there with them. "Damn, chat… I don't even know what to say. Arell really threw hands with The Game and came out on top. This is crazy."
The stream chat flooded with messages as fans begged to see more of the fight, but Akademiks wasn't sure how to follow it up. He sat there, staring at the replay of Arell delivering that final headbutt, and chuckled.
"You know what, chat?" he said, grinning. "Arell might be nominated for Billboards, but this right here? This is a different kind of hit."
Akademiks leaned back in his chair, he took a deep breath, trying to collect his thoughts as the chat continued to scroll by at breakneck speed.
"Alright, alright, y'all. That was wild, but we gotta switch gears. The Billboard Music Awards are about to kick off, and I'm hearing the red carpet is already poppin'. Let's check out the live feeds and see who's showing up."
He pulled up multiple streams on his monitors, his eyes darting between them as celebrities began to arrive. The chat exploded with excitement as each new face appeared.
"Yo, Drake just rolled up in a Rolls-Royce Phantom! The Boy, Drizzy Drake, The Toronto Demon, The Goat! Man's looking clean in that custom Tom Ford suit! Ain't none ya'll can tell me! And look at that entourage – OVO crew running deep tonight! That's how we do it Drake!"
Akademiks' voice rose with excitement. "Oh snap, there's Kanye and Kim! Ye's rocking some kind of avant-garde Margiela joint. Kim's dress is... wow. That's all I'm gonna say on that, chat. Y'all can see for yourselves."
The stream continued, Taylor Swift glided down the red carpet in a white jumpsuit, flanked by her squad. The Weeknd arrived solo. Nicki Minaj turned heads in a bold, revealing colorful dress.
"Hold up, hold up!" Akademiks suddenly leaned forward, squinting at one of his screens. "Is that... yep, that's our man Arell pulling up!"
The chat erupted with excitement as Arell stepped out of a a black SUV. He looked sharp in a crisp white button-down shirt, opened at the collar to reveal a hint of a gold chain. His black slacks were impeccably tailored, and his feet were what looked like custom Puma sneakers. His hair was styled in neat braids, adding an edge to his polished look.
"Damn, Arell cleaned up nice! No suit, but he's making that shirt and pants combo look fresh as hell. And you know those kicks are probably some unreleased Puma heat."
Right behind Arell, India emerged from the vehicle, looking radiant in a floor-length black dress that hugged her curves. The dress featured a high slit that revealed glimpses of her legs as she walked, and a plunging neckline that was adorned with delicate gold jewelry.
"And there's India Westbrooks, his baby moms', man I was so shocked when she revealed she was pregnant in that interview, crazy man. But no lie, that dress is fire, chat. Arell's a lucky man, no cap."
Akademiks' eyes widened as he noticed the a person in the rest of Arell's entourage. "Yo, that's Kenny with him! Good to see bro after all that went down, prayers up man. The whole squad's here to support."
He leaned in closer, recognizing another familiar face. "And would you look at that – Geoffrey's there too, looking like a boss in that tailored suit. You know he's got all the business stuff on lock."
As Arell's group made their way down the red carpet, they paused for photos.
"Man, look at Arell's crew. They went from the streets to the Billboard Awards. That's what I call a come-up."
The cameras flashed incessantly as Arell and India posed together. They shared a quick kiss for the photographers, eliciting cheers from the crowd and a flurry of excited messages in Akademiks' chat.
"Arell and India serving couple goals right now, chat. You love to see it. Kind of sad though, I swear ever since she said she was pregnant and going to therapy she stopped posting them fire ass photos, lik-like, let me see a lil' sum sum, you get me?" He chuckled, his eyes drifting over to chat.
In the flurry of messages one caught his eye. "'Chill, Arell might rock your jaw like he did to Game's'." He read out, squinting as his eyes followed along the text.
"Damn you right, my fault Arell." He smiled his attention turning back to the screen.
the group moved along, encountering other celebrities. Akademiks watched intently as Arell exchanged greetings with several big names.
"Oh snap, look at Arell chopping it up with Cole! They look like they go way back. And now he's dapping up Pharrell – I heard they've been working together. This man's really in the mix now."
The camera panned to show various celebrities taking their seats inside the venue. Akademiks provided a running commentary on the seating arrangements and interactions.
"Alright, we've got Taylor Swift front and center, no surprise there. Drake's crew is occupying a whole section to themselves. The Weeknd's sitting... oh, interesting, he's pretty close to Ariana Grande. Wonder if we'll see a collab soon?"
His eyes lit up as he spotted Arell's group again. "There's Arell and his people. They've got good seats, not too far from the stage. You can tell the industry's taking him seriously."
As the last of the celebrities took their seats and the lights began to dim, signaling the start of the show, Akademiks turned his attention back to his chat.
"Alright, chat, the show's about to kick off. Who you got for top artist? Album of the year? Drop your predictions in the chat!"
…
As the lights dimmed and the excited chatter in the arena began to quiet, Arell settled into his seat, he glanced around, still somewhat in awe of the star-studded crowd surrounding him.
India leaned in close, her perfume a comforting scent amidst the unfamiliar environment. "Can you believe we're really here?" she whispered, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
Arell squeezed her hand, about to respond when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned to see Pharrell grinning widely.
"Mind if we swap seats for a bit?" Pharrell asked India, who nodded graciously and moved to allow the two men to sit together.
"How you holding up, Mr. Rosell?" Pharrell asked, his voice low as the first presenters took the stage.
Arell shrugged, trying to play it cool. "It's wild, man. Five months ago, I was... well, you know. Now I'm here. Still doesn't feel real."
Pharrell nodded knowingly. "Trust me, that feeling never quite goes away. But you deserve to be here."
"Thanks, man," Arell replied, genuine appreciation in his voice. "So, how does this all work? I gotta stand up when they call my name or something?"
Pharrell chuckled softly. "Nah, you can relax. Most awards aren't presented on stage, especially for new artists. They'll announce a bunch during commercial breaks. And between you and me," he leaned in closer, "don't get your hopes up too much for tonight. This nomination? It's about getting you on the radar. Next year, though? That's when you might need that speech ready."
Arell nodded. "Yeah, I barely edged onto the list."
As they continued to chat, Arell felt a light touch on his arm. He turned to see India, her brow furrowed slightly.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
She leaned in, whispering. "Just some of these outfits... I swear, if I see one more cutout dress, I'm going to scream. And don't even get me started on what some of these girls are calling 'fashion'."
Arell couldn't help but grin. "Says the woman who's turning heads left and right. I've seen at least a dozen people checking you out since we sat down."
India rolled her eyes, but he could see the pleased smile tugging at her lips. "Please. They're probably just wondering who let the nobody in."
Before Arell could say anything, a voice from the row behind them cut in. "Excuse me, but are you Arell? The one who did Fair Trade?"
Arell turned to see a young woman leaning forward, her eyes bright with recognition. "Yeah, that's me," he replied, extending his hand.
The woman shook it enthusiastically. "I'm Halsey. Your song is incredible. The way you blend those beats with the lyrics? Pure fire."
"Thanks," Arell said, genuinely touched. "Your stuff is dope too. I've heard Ghost, it's really good."
As they chatted, more people began to take notice. A steady stream of up-and-coming artists and industry insiders made their way over during lulls in the ceremony, each eager to introduce themselves to the new face in the crowd.
"Arell, my man!" A booming voice cut through the chatter. Arell looked up to see Rocky approaching, a wide grin on his face. "Heard you've been in the studio with Pharrell. Can't wait to hear what you guys cook up."
As Arell engaged in conversation, he could see Geoffrey from the corner of his eye, smoothly networking. He caught his eye and gave a subtle nod of approval.
Just as Arell was beginning to feel overwhelmed by the attention, he noticed a familiar face approaching. Craig Kellman, looking sharp in a tailored suit, made his way over with a practiced smile.
"Arell, good to see you here," Craig said, his tone friendly but his eyes calculating. "You're making quite the impression."
Arell felt his guard go up, but he maintained a casual demeanor. "Craig, thanks man. It's an honor just to be nominated."
Craig nodded, his gaze flicking briefly to Geoffrey before returning to Arell. "Indeed. Atlantic is proud to have you on board. We should catch up soon, discuss your... trajectory."
As Craig moved on, Arell exchanged a knowing look with Geoffrey.