Crossed

Chapter one: Who is that asshole?

It was pretty much a fucking normal day for me, Dave Strider. Ok that's one hell of a lie. It was the day of the adult division rap competition. It comes once a year in the summer and I'm finally old enough to compete in the adult division. Last year they banned me in the young adult division for dropping too many curse words and "sex adjectives" in my raps. Bro just told me it was because I dropped it like it was hot too hard and they couldn't handle it.

I was handed the mic and was checked off to go on stage in five minutes. I nodded at them and said cool, keeping my façade on with my aviators and my cool guy aura. I was unbeatable….Or so I fucking thought. The dude up in-front of me who was…I couldn't even explain it. He was a pretty slim dude, except for that ass in those jeans- did I really just check out his ass? Not cool. Anyways he was in a bright orange hoodie, I couldn't see his face sense his back was too the curtains and the backstage area, but I could see two obscure black points pop off from the side from his face… That can't be right.

Although his appearance was quite good I was wondering when he would start raping then just as I thought of it the music began to play. Right away I recognized the first beat of the song and I nearly started laughing just thinking about how that ass can rap Romans Revenge. But when he opened his mouth and he did the first verse I was eating those thoughts of laughing down my throat like needles. It was motherfucking amazing how he executed Nicki Minaj's part and it surprised me when he did Eminem's part- oh god how he raped that part I nearly popped a boner right then and there… Not the proudest moment of my life. The mysterious rapper dude was just too good and all I could do was stand and watch as he dished out that crowed and those judges.

Fuck the judges. I'd probably have to blow them if I want to win the competition now. Kiss that cash prize and fame away. You have to make a fucking brilliant impression on the judges now. You had originally planned on rapping to the song Good Feeling by Flo Rida, but now you weren't too sure. When the guy on stage finished and was in the middle of rejoicing in the middle of the cheers in a cool way I was told by a stage hand to go out and shake his hand and hand off the mic. I nodded and smoothed out my shirt and adjusted my shades before striding out on stage with a total cloak of unbreakable coolness and irony.

I walked up behind the guy in the orange hood and tapped his shoulder, slouching back to give an extra cool look to show him you're cooler somehow. When he turned around to face you, you almost gasped, but of course you were too cool for that and you were onstage in front of a rowdy crowd. His shades and the total look of no emotion on his face and blonde sweep of his bangs made him look exactly like Bro- your older brother and mentor. The dude had the exact same black anime shades and carried that same presence like Bro did, although he looked a bit aback when he saw you for the first time and you were wondering what the hell he was thinking.

You held out your hand in a fist and just like that he gave you a fist bump- and just then you just knew that he was Bro, but Bro was backstage cheering you on in his own ironic way.

This was too fucking weird.

The dude passed me the mic and walked off stage without another glance and you faced the crowd and waited for the music to start. Once it did you knew you had to drop it like it was fucking hot. Of course you had to sing the non-rapping parts for extra scoring on performance and switching off tempos and all that good shit, but you were so overly anticipated for the rap that when it came rolling in you tore it up. The audience loved it, they couldn't get enough of how sick I was dropping the lyrics better than the singer himself, it felt so enticing, I just wanted to loose myself in it.

Of course it all had to come to an end and as much as I liked performing alone I had to give the next guy the mic and wait backstage for them to announce the final performer and then call out the winners of the competition. I spotted Bro and I calmly walked over to him and received a well-earned fist bump followed by a hand on my head ruffling my hair and a "Good job lil man" by the dude himself. I was feeling pretty good, but of course I didn't let that show, Striders are too cool for that.

As we stood back and waited for the results to finish processing between the judges I saw the same guy in the orange hood standing next to this older man who had a pretty nice pair of aviators on, a pretty fly suit and a Bluetooth on his ear as he talked quietly to whoever was on the line. The man looked all business and no play. He didn't even remove his eyes from the screen of his phone when he was done with his call, Jesus this guy is a workaholic.

"And Dave Strider please come on stage," the announcer said into the microphone.

You strode out onto the stage with confidence standing in a line facing the crowd next to the guy in the orange hood. The tension rose as they gave out 3rd place prizes and 2nd place prizes saving the guy next to me and myself left there.

"And this year's winner is… Oh-what a rare occasion! Looks like we have two winners Dirk and Dave Strider!"

As the crowd erupted with cheers I was confused as fuck. Did this guy and I… Share the same last name? I didn't have time to think about it as two choice babes brought the trophy over to us and had us hold it up as they took a picture of the winners of this year's competition. We were then asked to do some photo shoots tomorrow for the record books the next day. Dirk and I were both down for it. As Bro and I left in our beat up pick up I still had a lot of questions buzzing in my head about everything.