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Lord of Entertainment C402 Impressing the hood
🕑 Added 2025-09-11 00:44:34 +0000 UTC(3rd Person POV)
Joseph felt his stomach clench with nerves, though his expression remained perfectly controlled. 'After gaining so much power from the World Cup performance, I should be confident facing anyone,' he told himself, drawing strength from that memory. 'Besides, I've faced worse. I've survived my father's wrath.'
He took a steadying breath before responding in his natural deep voice—so different from the smooth, soft-spoken tone his fans knew. "I believe we haven't met before."
Amaru studied him intently, clearly thrown by the masculine timbre. 'Am I mistaken? He looks exactly like that rising star, Joseph...'
"Yeah, first time seeing each other," Amaru said slowly, "but you look familiar. Same face as that famous Joseph Jackson guy." His eyes narrowed with suspicion.
Joseph's jaw twitched involuntarily, but he forced his shoulders to relax.
"But you can't be him," Amaru laughed, the sound carrying genuine amusement. "Your voice is way too manly for that pretty boy! You sound like you could handle yourself in a fight." He slung an arm around Joseph's neck with casual familiarity.
Joseph shifted uncomfortably. Arthur had specifically coached him to suppress his natural voice, wanting to cultivate the image of a "gentle, understanding artist" for his public persona.
"You a rapper by any chance?" Amaru asked, then barreled on without waiting for an answer. "Did you hear about that arrogant pop star rolling into town? Thinks we're just stepping stones for his career—stairs he can climb to reach the top!"
His voice turned bitter. "Isn't that completely absurd?"
Joseph remained silent for several heartbeats, causing Amaru to drum his fingers impatiently on the table.
Finally, Joseph sighed deeply. "There's really no point in hiding anymore."
"What?"
Joseph met Amaru's gaze directly. "May I ask who you are first?"
"I'm Amaru Garland. Half-demon, half-human." He gestured expectantly. "And you?"
"I'm Joseph Jackson." Joseph pulled off his sunglasses and cap, revealing his unmistakable features.
Awkward silence stretched between them like a taut wire. Then Amaru drained his entire beer in one long gulp, setting the empty glass down with exaggerated calm.
"Pretty bold showing up here," he said evenly. "You that confident you can walk out of here in one piece?"
"Listen, you've all completely misunderstood my message—" Joseph paused as he felt the weight of hostile stares from across the club. Every conversation had stopped. Every eye was fixed on him with dangerous intensity.
"I never meant to belittle anyone. That wasn't my intention at all." Joseph's voice carried genuine sincerity. "When I said I wanted to learn from local artists, I meant exactly that. I want to understand your music, maybe even collaborate. Work together on something new."
He leaned forward earnestly. "I've been studying hip-hop for days now. I was hoping we could share the stage, create something that blends our different styles."
Joseph braced himself for violence, certain the hostile atmosphere would explode into action.
Instead, the entire club burst into laughter.
Confusion flickered across his face as the tension evaporated like smoke.
"Relax, pretty boy. We're not gonna hurt you," Amaru said, his tone shifting to something warmer. "You're not some dangerous thug we'd beat down—we talk with fists to those types. But you're an artist, so we talk with music."
"Yeah! Show us what you've got!" Big Tusk called from the back, raising his drink.
"This is our chance to teach you a lesson with our rap!" another artist called out, his voice carrying eager anticipation.
"Yeah, let's see if that pretty voice can handle real bars," someone else added with a grin.
Amaru crossed his arms, studying Joseph with calculating eyes. "You talk about collaboration, but can you actually spit? Or you just another pop star playing dress-up?"
"Show us what you learned from 'studying' our music," Big Tusk rumbled from the back, his gold teeth glinting. "Time to put up or shut up."
Joseph felt nervousness creep up his spine, but then his Musical Magic stirred within him, bringing unexpected calm. As the crowd waited expectantly, power began radiating from his body—something none of them had ever experienced before.
The taunting died abruptly as confused expressions replaced the earlier hostility.
Amaru's eyebrows shot up. 'What is this feeling washing over me?'
A strange yet satisfying sensation filled the room, and suddenly a hip-hop beat began pulsing around Joseph—not from speakers, but emanating directly from his body.
'Is there a sound system hidden on him?' they wondered, unable to understand how the rhythm seemed to flow from his very being.
"I'm just a fool, yeah, they usin' me as tools," Joseph began, his voice finding the perfect balance between singing and rapping. "Wolves in the night, they be breakin' all the rules." His delivery was smooth, natural, syncing flawlessly with the mysterious beat. "Still I keep my cool, try to play it smooth, heart heavy weight, but I move like I choose."
He rose from his seat, transforming the cramped club into his personal stage. His movements were controlled yet fluid—not the flashy choreography from his pop performances, but something more authentic that matched the raw energy of his words.
"Cool like the soil when the rain come through, holdin' all the pain but the roots still grew. Question if I'm fated or I'm just misused, but I won't let the fire burn me out of the truth."
The Musical Magic worked its influence subtly. Without realizing it, the hostile crowd began nodding their heads to the rhythm, their earlier intimidation forgotten as they found themselves drawn into the performance.
"Ohhh, I've been broken, I've been tested, carry scars but I won't regret it. They can cut me, treat me reckless, but I rise up, I'm never defenseless."
Even Big Tusk couldn't resist the pull, his massive frame swaying slightly as the beat took hold. Amaru found himself completely absorbed, watching this pop star transform into something he'd never expected.
For three full minutes, Joseph commanded the room with an authenticity that bridged the gap between their worlds.
"Ohhh, I've been doubted, I've been shaken, used my heart, but it won't be taken. Through the pain, I keep on steppin', still alive, and I'm still not breakin'."
Silence followed as the last note faded.
Then Big Tusk, eyes actually glistening with emotion, burst into applause. "THAT WAS INCREDIBLE!"
The entire club erupted in appreciation, but all eyes turned to Amaru—the unofficial king of this scene.
Amaru sat stunned, his mind racing. 'What the hell just happened? Is this that rare talent the newspapers mentioned? I thought it was media hype...'
Joseph met his gaze directly. "So... did I prove myself?"
The club held its breath, waiting for Amaru's verdict.
Amaru lowered his head, and for a moment everyone assumed disappointment. Then he looked up with genuine respect and extended his hand.
"Alright. Welcome to the club."
Joseph grinned and clasped the offered hand as cheers filled the underground space, the bridge between their musical worlds finally built.
---
Shortly after Joseph's impromptu performance at Sip-Hop, word spread like wildfire through the city's underground scene. Media outlets quickly picked up the story of the pop star who'd earned respect from Harlem's toughest hip-hop crowd.
By the next morning, Sip-Hop had agreed to host Joseph's official concert. The announcement went live at noon, and all two thousand tickets sold out within thirty minutes—a testament to both his growing reputation and the venue's intimate size.
But before Joseph could celebrate the successful ticket sales, trouble found him.
Two separate messages arrived at his hotel, both carrying the same underlying threat. The other hip-hop factions in the city weren't as welcoming as Amaru's crew.
"Hip-hop in this city is more complicated than I thought," Joseph said, studying the hostile letters while sitting across from Amaru in the hotel's private dining room. "There are other crowds besides yours, aren't there?"
Amaru nodded grimly. "Three crews total, three different territories. And none of us get along." He leaned back in his chair, tension evident in his posture. "We're all technically under the Corleone Gang's protection—yeah, they took the name from your boss's movie—but that doesn't make us friends. If anything, we compete harder because we're fighting for the same resources."
"The Corleone Gang controls all three hip-hop groups?" Joseph asked, intrigued by the connection to Arthur's film.
"They control the hip-hop scene and run protection rackets throughout this part of the city," Amaru explained. "But just because we all answer to the same boss doesn't mean we work together. The Serpent Collective and Iron Wolves have been looking for an excuse to move against us."
Big Tusk, who'd joined them for this impromptu strategy session, cracked his knuckles with an ominous sound. "Your concert gives them that excuse. They think we're trying to expand our influence by bringing in outside talent."
Joseph absorbed this information with surprising calm, then leaned forward with a gleam in his eyes that made both rappers nervous.
"Actually, this could work out perfectly," he said, his tone carrying an excitement that seemed wildly inappropriate for the situation. "I've been planning to film my 'Beat It' music video here in Harlem, and I was dreading the casting process. This solves everything."
"What?" Amaru and Big Tusk said simultaneously, their voices cracking with disbelief.
"Look, for 'Beat It' I need real street dancers—people who actually know how to move, how to handle themselves, how to own a room." Joseph's eyes lit up as the idea took shape. "Why waste time casting actors to play tough guys when I've got the real thing right here? Three crews, in the same building, in the same video."
Big Tusk's massive frame went rigid. "Hold up. You want to get the Serpent Collective, Iron Wolves, and us all in the same building? At the same time?"
"Yeah. With full camera crews documenting everything," Joseph said, as if suggesting they grab lunch together.
Amaru leaned forward, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "You'll have bodies dropping before you finish setting up your equipment."
"Come on, music brought us together when we were ready to throw down," Joseph countered, his confidence unwavering. "Maybe it can work the same magic with your rival crews."
Comments
Tyler Karp
Thank you for the chapter
