The Man In The Mirror [Rapper System]

Amias' eyes fluttered open, a cold chill running through his bones as he instinctively sheilded his face from the slivers of sunlight peeking through the blinds. Disoriented, he blinked away the fog of sleep, the melodic hum of birdsong filling his conciousness. His body ached, and it took him a moment to realise he wasn't in bed—he was slumped on the ground, back presssed against the side of the mattress.

Groaning, he reached for his phone, it's insistent ringing cutting the silence of the room. His vision blurred as he squinted at the screen, the letters swimming like he was trying to read through a fogged up window. With a clumsy swipe, he answered.

"Hello?" His voice was hoarse, the word scraping against his dry throat.

"Amias Cassian Nazir Mars." The voice on the other end was sharp, each syllable dripping with a familiar, icy disdain. His stomach dropped.

That tone could only belong to one person.

His eyes darted to the top of the screen.

9:34 AM

"'Oh dear'?" His mother's voice was a whip crack, mocking and furious. "You have fifteen minutes to iron your shirt, put on your trousers, and get your behind out of my house before I back up there and give you the whooping of a lifetime."

She hadn't laid a hand on him since he turned fourteen, but Amias wasn't about to test her patience.

What followed was a whirlwind of motion. In seventeen chaotic minutes, he was out the door, his shirt half-tucked, his tie hanging loosely around his neck, and his blazer slung over one shoulder. The cold London air hit him like a slap, and he tugged his jacket tighter around his lean frame, rubbing his gloved hands together for warmth.

Winter in London was unforgiving, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones and turned the streets into icy death traps. The sidewalks glittered with frost, and every step was a gamble—one wrong move, and he'd be flat on his back. Cars crawled along the narrow roads, their tires struggling for traction on the slick pavement.

Somehow, by some miracle, he made it to school without incident, though his jog was punctuated by near-misses and the occasional flailing arm as he fought to keep his balance. By the time he reached the Chelsea Academy building, his breath came in ragged puffs, visible in the frigid air.

The school was eerily quiet, the halls empty save for a few staff members hurrying about their business. Amias took the stairs two at a time, his footsteps echoing in the stillness. He knew the route to his classroom by heart, and within minutes, he was standing in front of the door, his hand hovering over the handle.

Taking a deep breath, he rolled his shoulders and braced himself for the inevitable scolding. As he pushed the door open, every head in the room swiveled toward him.

At the front of the class, chalk in hand, Mr. Leatherback turned to face him. The man was the embodiment of sternness—sharp features, a perpetually furrowed brow, and a demeanor that could make even the most confident student shrink.

"Ah," Leatherback said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It seems Mr. Mars has decided to grace us with his presence. Two hours late, no less."

Amias winced, his cheeks burning as the class erupted into muffled laughter. Leatherback pinched the bridge of his nose, leaning heavily on his desk.

"Amias," he said, his tone heavy with disappointment. "Care to explain to me—and to your classmates—why you've decided to join us so… fashionably late?"

Amias opened his mouth to respond, but his words caught in his throat as his gaze landed on her.

Temi.

She sat near the middle of the room, her light brown eyes locked on his, a faint smirk playing on her lips. It was like the rest of the class had faded into the background, the spotlight falling squarely on her. Her hair was perfectly styled, as always, falling in soft waves around her face. That smirk—it was almost angelic, the way it lit up her features.

For a moment, Amias forgot where he was. He forgot about Leatherback, about the late slip waiting for him at the front office, about the icy sidewalks and his mother's threats. All he could see was her.

"Well?" Leatherback's voice snapped him back to reality.

Amias blinked, his face heating up as he realized he'd been staring. He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Uh… well…"

Temi's smirk widened, and she raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by his flustered state. Amias felt his stomach do a somersault.

"Well?" Leatherback prompted again, his patience wearing thin.

But Amias wasn't listening. His attention was still fixed on Temi, his mind racing. Did he look creepy, staring at her like that?

"Amias!" Leatherback's voice cracked through the classroom like a whip, finally piercing Amias's Temi-induced haze.

He blinked, dragging his attention back to the front of the room where the teacher stood, arms crossed, face creased with exasperation.

"Since you've decided to grace us with your presence and seem so... distracted," Leatherback's voice dripped with sarcasm, "perhaps you'd like to share with the class what's so fascinating about Miss Adebayo's left ear?"

A ripple of snickers swept through the room. Amias felt heat creep up his neck as Temi turned slightly, the ghost of a smile playing at her lips. His stomach did another flip.

"Sorry, sir," he managed, forcing himself to meet Leatherback's stern gaze. "I was just... thinking."

"Thinking." Leatherback's eyebrows climbed toward his receding hairline. "Well, that's a novel concept. And while you were engaged in this deep contemplation, did you happen to think about why you're two hours late to my class?"

The silence stretched uncomfortably. Amias shifted in his seat, acutely aware of every eye in the room on him. "I overslept," he said finally, the words tasting stale on his tongue.

"Overslept." Leatherback repeated the word like it was a particularly distasteful piece of food. "Well, I'm sure your mother will be fascinated to hear that explanation. She's not paying premium tuition for you to practice your sleeping habits, Mr. Mars."

The mention of his mother sent a fresh wave of discomfort through him. She didn't like when he acted non-comital towards his schooling, especially when she had decided he required the best education her hollow pockets could attain for him. Luckily for her, with his income, he was able to bear the weight of his 13,000 tuition fee.

Leatherback turned to the whiteboard, chalk scratching against the surface. "Since you're clearly so well-rested now, perhaps you'd like to solve this equation for us?" He stepped back, revealing a complex mathematical problem that sprawled across the board.

Amias stared at the numbers and symbols, they sort of reminded him of the way the song structure was arranged, the beats weren't provided with a visual representation-

"Mr. Mars?" Leatherback's voice had an edge now. "The equation?"

Amias forced himself to focus, scanning the problem. Despite his distraction, numbers had always come easily to him. The solution unfolded in his mind like a flower opening to the sun. He stood, walked to the board, and pointed to a specific section without picking up the chalk.

"The error's there," he said quietly. "You've got the derivative wrong. Should be negative, not positive."

Leatherback's eyes narrowed as he examined the spot Amias indicated. A muscle twitched in his jaw. "Take your seat, Mr. Mars," he said finally, erasing the section with sharp, angry strokes. "And see me after class about your tardiness."

Amias slid back into his chair, already pulling out his phone under the desk. At first he hadn't thought about it, but staring blankly into open space while using the system wouldn't be optimal at all. Using his notes app to disguise his diverted focus however, was a sound plan. The system's interface flickered in his. Within seconds of navigation, the beat of Redemption pulsed in his mind. Something about having the song's blueprint made it feel alive already.

A tap on his shoulder made him jump. He turned to find Marcus leaning forward, his desk mate's dark eyes dancing with amusement.

"Yo," Marcus whispered, "you good? Looking mad stressed."

Amias shrugged, trying to appear casual even as his fingers itched to get back to the song analysis. "Just one of those days, init?"

"Nah, something's different." Marcus's grin widened. "This about Temi? Saw you clocking her hard."

"Allow it," Amias muttered, but he couldn't help glancing in her direction again. She was focused on her notebook, pen moving across the page with practiced grace. Even the way she took notes was elegant.

"My guy's caught feelings," Marcus teased, earning a sharp look from Leatherback. He lowered his voice further. "But real talk, you missed bare drama earlier. Jake and Sarah proper kicked off in the corridor."

Amias made a noncommittal sound, his attention split between Marcus's gossip and the song structure swimming behind his eyes. The beat was complex - layers of 808s and ethereal synths that would make even the simplest bars hit different. It was definetely drill, but something about it was… different. It was almost as if the beat was given more personality.

"You're not even listening," Marcus accused, poking him with a pen. "What's got you so gassed?"

"Nothing, just..." Amias paused, considering. How could he explain that he had two unreleased songs from the future floating around his head? Courtesy of a supernatural system that had apparently chosen him to be the next big thing? "Just thinking about music stuff."

Marcus's eyes lit up. "Yeah? You still messing with them beats on your phone?"

"Something like that." Amias smiled, remembering Zain's comment about his Spongebob remix. It felt like years ago now, even though it had only been a few weeks ago.

"You should let me hear something sometime," Marcus said, already turning back to his work as Leatherback's glare found them again. "My cousin's got a proper setup, she's a engineer you know? she could probably help you out."

Amias nodded absently, but his mind was already back on the songs. The system had said they were his to recreate - that the artist themselves would never make them. Before he had called it a wrap, he had attempted to recreate the drums of the beat, but even with the blueprint layed out before him he had struggled for over half an hour before producing a set of Hi-hats that he'd been content with.

He had the songs. He had the setup. Now all he needed was the skill to bring them to life.

The real question was: what would he do with it all?

The rest of the class passed in a blur of chalk dust and half-heard lectures.

When the bell finally rang, Amias gathered his things slowly, watching as his classmates filed out. Temi passed his desk, and for a moment, their eyes met. She gave him a small smile - just a quick upturn of her lips - but it sent electricity through his veins.

"Mr. Mars." Leatherback's voice brought him crashing back to reality. "A word."

Leatherback's stern facade softened slightly as the last students filtered out, leaving them alone in the classroom. He leaned against his desk, arms crossed, studying Amias with an expression that had shifted from frustration to something more paternal.

"You know, your cousin sat in that exact same seat," Leatherback said, gesturing to Amias's desk. "Oakley was just like you - brilliant when he applied himself, but his mind was always somewhere else. Though I suspect he was thinking about bars rather than..." He raised an eyebrow. "Whatever had you so captivated today."

Amias shifted uncomfortably. His cousin's success cast a long shadow, especially here at Chelsea Academy where teachers spoke about him with exasperation. Leatherback was one of the few that were actually aware of their relation.

"Look, Amias," Leatherback continued, his voice gentler now. "You're pulling B's and A's without even trying. Your economics papers show real insight - you have a mind for business that could take you far. And let's not forget you were our strongest swimmer before you quit the team."

"That was different," Amias muttered, though the memory of chlorine-scented mornings and the rhythmic slice of water still pulled at him sometimes.

"Was it?" Leatherback picked up a stack of papers, shuffling them absently. "You have options, Amias. Real ones. With your grades and athletic background, scholarships aren't out of reach. Universities love well-rounded candidates." He paused, letting the words sink in. "I just hope you're not closing doors before you've really looked through them."

There was genuine concern in his voice, the kind that made Amias's rehearsed deflections die in his throat. He thought about explaining - about the path that he had to take, for his mother - but how could he make someone like Leatherback understand?

"I appreciate it, sir," he said finally. "Really. I'll think about what you said."

Leatherback nodded, though his expression suggested he'd heard similar promises before. "That's all I ask. Now get to class before you're late twice in one day."

The hallway was nearly empty as Amias made his way toward PE, his footsteps echoing off the linoleum. He was so lost in thought that he almost missed the soft "Hey" that floated from his left.

Zara stood by her locker, a small smile playing on her lips. Her light skin seemed to glow under the harsh fluorescent lights, her curly hair pulled back in a neat bun that emphasized her delicate features. She wore the standard uniform, but somehow made it look elegant rather than awkward like most of them did.

"Thought you weren't coming today," she said, falling into step beside him. Her presence was familiar, comfortable - they'd known each other since year seven, back when she was even more introverted and he was still struggling to shed his American accent.

"Just running late," he replied, matching her unhurried pace. "You heading to PE?"

She nodded, adjusting the strap of her bag. "Unfortunately. Though watching Marcus try to play basketball might make it worth it."

Amias laughed, remembering their friend's last attempt at sports. "Man's got two left feet."

"And two left hands," Zara added, her nose crinkling with amusement. The expression made something twist in his chest - not the sharp, urgent pull he felt with Temi, but something softer, more constant.

They passed a group of boys from his wider circle - the ones who hung around the edges of Shepherd's Bush, who wore their ties loose and their attitudes sharp. Zara's smile faded slightly, her shoulder brushing closer to his as they walked by.

He knew why she was wary. Those boys played at being hard, but some of them - the ones who claimed sets - weren't playing at all.

He didn't, but had you asked around in Sheperd's Bush he wouldn't be suprised if he was identified as a 12Anti affiliate.

While he, just like his cousin, didn't claim any set, they both held close ties within 12Anti. Their positions futher cemented by their shared cousin, Yung Gwopz or his new branding—Wyge. 12Anti were a major street gang in the White City Estate of Shepherd's Bush. Historically, they weren't the only gang within Sheperd Bush, another gang, 12World also originated from Shepherd but they were based in different estates; 12Anti in White City Estate and 12World in Becklow Gardens Estate. Over time, 12World had became inactive, with many of its members transitioning to 12Anti.

And similar to most gangs, they had rivalries, some of which had grown increasinly violent over the past years—months even. Gangs like Active Gxng, Ladbroke Grove, Kensal Green and Harrow Road Gangs, Original Camden all had their various not-at-all petty reasons for being in conflict in 12Anti. But one gang, had more tense relations than the rest, having reuccuring altercations that only added fuel to an already searing fire. To make things better, they had their own artist at the forefront of London grime, 1101, otherwise known as CGM.

The same crew belonging to the man who took the life of his friend.

Despite all of this, Zara, strangely enough liked his 12Anti friends from Shepherd who attented Chelsea Academy - guys like Jordan and Tyler who kept their heads down and were quiet most of the time - and some of his white friends from the posher parts of the neighborhood but were no less hardened. It was funny really, how she'd gravitated toward the ones who were actually about that life while avoiding the pretenders.

"You're thinking too hard," Zara observed, nudging him with her elbow. "Everything okay?"

Amias looked at her - really looked at her - and felt the weight of everything he couldn't say.

"Yeah," he said instead, forcing a smile. "Just tired. Been working on some music stuff."

Her eyes lit up at that. Unlike most people who heard about his producing, she didn't immediately compare him to Oakley or make assumptions. She just listened, genuinely interested in what he was creating.

"You'll have to let me hear something sometime," she said as they approached the gym. "When you're ready."

The way she said it - no pressure, no expectations. But the bell rang, sharp and insistent, cutting through the moment.

"Yeah," he said, holding the door open for her. "Soon."

She smiled again, disappearing into the girls' changing room, leaving Amias to wonder why that simple exchange left him feeling more grounded than any conversation he'd had all week.

___

So my computer randomly decided to stop working, my phone also had and my tablet screen got cracked up.

W life.

Don't expect chapters until I get this sorted