Chapter Text
The mirror in the cramped apartment was cracked, a jagged line slicing across N’s reflection as he adjusted the snapback on his head. He tugged at his hoodie, making sure the fit was just loose enough to look casual but not sloppy. Tonight wasn’t just another performance; tonight was his shot. Word on the street was that scouts would be attending the music event, and N couldn’t afford to mess it up. Not when he was juggling two jobs to keep the lights on and food on the table for himself and his little sister, Cyn.
“You’re gonna kill it, big brother,” Cyn said, leaning against the doorway to his room. Her voice carried an eerie calmness that didn’t quite match her tiny frame or the oversized sweater she wore. In her hand was a crumpled notebook, pages filled with scribbled rhymes and half-formed ideas.
N turned to her, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah? You think so?”
She nodded, holding out the notebook. “Wanna hear some of mine?”
N’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve been writing? Heck yeah, Cyn, lay it on me.” He dropped onto the edge of his bed, resting his elbows on his knees as he gave her his full attention.
Cyn flipped to a page in the middle of the notebook, cleared her throat, and began to recite. Her voice was flat, almost monotone, but the words themselves carried weight. Her rhymes were tight, weaving vivid imagery of dark alleyways and creeping shadows, a touch of horrorcore that sent a chill down N’s spine. She wasn’t just writing; she was painting pictures with words.
When she finished, she looked up at him, her expression unreadable. “So?”
N let out a low whistle. “Biscuits, Cyn. That’s fire. You’ve got the internal rhymes down like a pro. We’ll work on your delivery, though. You gotta sell it, y’know? Put some emotion into it.”
Cyn rolled her eyes, but there was a faint smile tugging at her lips. “Whatever. You better not mess up tonight. I’m counting on you to get famous so I can drop out of school.”
N laughed, ruffling her hair as he stood. “Keep dreaming, kid. Now, listen, I’ll be back in a few hours. You stay safe, alright? Lock the door and don’t let anyone in.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Cyn muttered, retreating to the living room.
A car horn blared outside, and N grabbed his bag, heading for the door. He stepped outside to see V’s car idling at the curb, its paint chipped and one headlight dim. V leaned against the driver’s side door, her sharp eyes scanning the street as if daring anyone to start something.
“’Bout time,” she said when she saw him. “You ready?”
“Born ready,” N replied, climbing into the passenger seat.
V’s neighborhood made his look like the suburbs, and he knew she’d fought tooth and nail to make it out. She wasn’t one to sugarcoat things, and he appreciated that about her. As they drove, the hum of the city at night filled the silence between them.
The venue was a dimly lit warehouse turned event space, the air buzzing with anticipation as artists and fans began to trickle in. N and V parked and made their way inside, weaving through the growing crowd. The backstage area was chaotic, with people shouting over each other and equipment being dragged around. N focused on finding their spot, his nerves tingling with a mix of excitement and anxiety.
What he didn’t notice was the familiar face in the corner. J sat at a folding table, her laptop open as she typed furiously. She was here on a freelance journalism gig, covering the event as a side hustle. She glanced up, and her heart skipped a beat. There he was, her ex-boyfriend, walking in with his new girlfriend.
J’s fingers hovered over the keyboard as she watched them find their setup. N looked focused, his usual easygoing demeanor replaced by a determination she hadn’t seen in a long time. V was all business, already checking their equipment and talking to a crew member. J shook her head, forcing herself to look away. She wasn’t here for drama.
As more people filed in, the energy in the venue grew electric. N and V exchanged a look, silently psyching each other up. A crew member came by, clipboard in hand, checking off names.
“Stage names?” he asked, barely looking up.
“N-RG,” N said, the word rolling off his tongue like it belonged to him.
“Pois-N-I-V,” V added, her tone sharp and confident.
The crew member nodded, moving on to the next act. N took a deep breath, glancing at V. “We’ve got this.”
She smirked, a glint of mischief in her eyes. “Damn right we do.”
The event kicked off with a burst of energy, the bass reverberating through the venue as artists took turns showcasing their craft. The room was a melting pot of anticipation, dreams, and the strong scent of cheap cologne. The audience buzzed with excitement, a sea of bouncing heads and phone cameras ready to capture the next big thing.
In a VIP booth overlooking the stage, Tessa James Elliott observed the chaos with a practiced eye. The new CEO of JCJenson Records leaned back, her designer blazer impeccable despite the sweat-stained heat of the packed venue. Her gaze was sharp, her expression calculating as she sipped on a whiskey neat. She wasn’t here for the ambiance; she was here to scout.
JCJenson Records wasn’t the giant it had been decades ago. Once the crown jewel of indie labels, it had catapulted to fame in the golden era of The Absolute Solvers. That band had been legendary—until they weren’t. One by one, its members had drifted away.
Nori, the enigmatic lead singer, had vanished from the public eye altogether. The rumors of her death had only added to the mystique surrounding her name. Yeva, the fiery drummer, had packed up and returned to Russia, allegedly with her child and the band’s previous manager, whose whispered scandals had fueled tabloids about the father of said child for years. Alice, the brooding guitarist, had tried to reinvent herself as a solo country artist, but bitterness now seemed to cling to her name more than success.
Tessa sighed, the weight of her label’s dwindling relevance pressing on her shoulders. Tonight, though, she felt a spark of hope. This crowd wasn’t just here for nostalgia; they were here for raw, untapped talent. If she played her cards right, she could change the course of JCJenson's legacy—and her own.
Onstage, the venue’s host adjusted the mic and introduced the next act.
“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up for N-RG and Pois-N-I-V!”
Tessa straightened in her seat as the crowd roared. Two figures stepped into the spotlight—a lanky young man with silver hair and golden eyes, and a woman with striking features, dressed in bold streetwear that screamed defiance.
The beat dropped, and the duo launched into a song they called Gold and Ivy. The crowd swayed, heads nodding in rhythm as the performers traded verses with electric synergy.
N’s flow was quick and precise, like a storm that refused to be ignored. His lyrics painted vivid pictures of life in the hood—the grind, the sacrifices, and the hope of escape. Every bar was clean, yet his intricate rhyme schemes and syllable stacks turned heads in the audience.
No guidin' light there, I've said my fair share
Of prayers here and there but it seems there's
Some sort of interference in God's ear, it's like he can't hear
Me, either that or he don't care, and I swear
That's why I prefer the idea that he ain't there
When V stepped forward, her verse hit like a punch to the gut. She spat raw aggression, her voice commanding attention. Her lyrics carried the grit of survival, punctuated with sharp swears that felt more like weapons than words.
Days when I had to be high just to get through it, I was so overstimulated
I fuckin' hate it, no heat in the house durin' the winter days and
When my songs drop, if I don't make some change when they come out
Expect the next time you see me is in your house with a Glock to your mouth, bitch!
The contrast between the two was magnetic. Where N’s energy was hopeful and fiery, V’s was dark and unrelenting. Together, they created a song that didn’t just speak to the audience—it grabbed them by the collar and demanded to be felt.
Tessa’s eyes narrowed. These two weren’t just performers; they were storytellers, each carrying their own wounds and ambitions. She saw something rare: potential.
“Interesting,” Tessa muttered under her breath as the song ended and the crowd erupted in cheers.
Her assistant leaned closer. “You think they’re the ones?”
“They’re raw,” Tessa admitted, tapping her manicured nails on the rim of her glass. “But there’s something there. They just need guidance… and a nice coat of polish. But those kids definitely need us more than we need them. Couple of misguided kids like that probably don't have many good role models.”
The assistant nodded, scribbling notes as Tessa leaned back, a small smirk forming.
She had to move fast. Other scouts were already eyeing the stage, their expressions hungry. But Tessa knew she had the edge.
Now, all she had to do was reach them before the others did—and convince them that JCJenson Records could change their lives.
The event wound down slowly, the hum of excitement still hanging in the air as artists, fans, and industry folk mingled. N and V found themselves weaving through the crowd, eyes scanning for any potential scouts who might be interested in signing them. V had her usual skepticism, but N couldn’t help but let his optimism take over. This could be it. The moment that changed everything.
They walked past groups of people chatting about their favorite performances, the venue buzzing with the kind of energy that came after a good show. The night felt full of potential, like they were standing at the edge of something big. But just as they were starting to lose hope that anyone would approach them, N spotted a familiar face—a face he hadn’t expected to see tonight.
J.
She was standing near the back, a drink in her hand, casually leaning against the wall. Her eyes flicked toward N and V as they approached, and for a second, the old tension between them bubbled to the surface. But to his surprise, J smiled and pushed off the wall, walking over to them with a casual stride.
“Well, well, if it isn’t my ex and his new girlfriend,” she said, her tone light and teasing, but there was no bitterness in it. Her smile was genuine, more friendly than N expected. "Wasn't expecting you to be able to pull someone like her. She's almost as pretty as me. Almost."
V shot a quick look at N, eyebrows raised, but N just shrugged, accepting the situation. It was weird, but J had always been a bit different when it came to their breakup. She was one of those rare exes who didn’t hold grudges.
“You know, I have to admit, I was a little impressed by your performance,” J continued, her eyes moving between them with a hint of curiosity. “Wasn’t sure what to expect with you two, but you guys did your thing.”
V folded her arms. “Thanks. But what’s up? You didn’t come here to compliment us, did you?”
J’s smile widened, the wheels in her head turning. “Actually, I’ve been thinking about something. I’ve got an idea. You two... what if you started a group?”
N and V exchanged a quick glance. A group? The idea was intriguing, but V was the first to speak up, sounding skeptical. “A group? What’s the point? We’re doing fine as is.”
J held up her hands. “I’m not talking about forming some big, messy thing where everyone’s fighting over the spotlight. I’d mostly be the manager, but I’ve written a couple of things that could work for you. Something a little different, but still in your style. You need a manager, right? And maybe a few tracks to boost your sound.”
N raised an eyebrow. “You’ve written stuff?”
“Yeah,” J said, her eyes glinting with a little excitement. “Some stuff I think could work really well for you two. Plus, having a group dynamic... it could help with the image. Make you more marketable.”
V was still wary, eyeing J with suspicion. “You sure about this?”
J nodded, the hint of a grin on her face. “I’m not doing this just to be nice, V. I’ve got a plan.”
Before V could respond, N chimed in, his mind already spinning with possibilities. “Well... if we’re talking about a group, then maybe Cyn should join us.”
V’s eyebrows shot up. “Your little sister?”
N chuckled softly. “Yeah. She’s been writing her own raps lately. I think she’s got potential. Plus, she’s always wanted to be a part of this. If we’re doing this, we might as well bring her along.”
J didn’t immediately respond. Her face shifted, considering the idea. “Cyn, huh? I remember her from when she was younger. A little... weird, if I’m being honest. How is she now?”
N grinned. “She’s gotten weirder,” he said, his voice affectionate. “But that’s just her. She’s got her own style. A little different from mine, but she’s got a fire in her, you know?”
J shrugged, not entirely convinced, but still willing to entertain the idea. “If she’s serious, I guess I’ll give her a shot.”
Just as the conversation seemed to stall, a new voice cut through the chatter. A sharp, energetic tone that stood out even in the noise of the crowd.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t the dynamic duo,” the voice called out.
The trio turned to find Tessa James Elliott standing a few feet away, looking as lively and energetic as ever. Tessa was the kind of person who didn’t need a spotlight to stand out—her presence had an aura all its own. She was approachable, a stark contrast to the usual cold, calculating nature of most label owners. She looked more like the big sister every artist wished they had, someone who could cheer you on while making sure you were in the right place at the right time.
N didn’t waste time. “Ms. Elliott,” he said, his voice upbeat. “Glad to see you. What’s up, uh, ma'am?”
Tessa smiled, her eyes twinkling with excitement. “I have to say, you two were the highlight of the night,” she said, looking from N to V. “I wasn’t sure what to expect, but you’ve got something, no doubt about it.”
V gave a skeptical nod. “What do you mean?”
Tessa’s grin widened. “I mean that I want to sign you.”
J’s eyebrows shot up. “You want to sign them? Just like that?”
Tessa’s smile didn’t falter. “Why not? I’ve been keeping an eye on you two all night. I think you’ve got potential. Enough to turn this whole thing around. My label, JCJenson, has been through its ups and downs, but I think it’s time for a new chapter. And I think you two could be part of that.”
N looked at V, his heart racing. A real opportunity. “You mean it?”
Tessa nodded. “I’m serious. But I want to make sure you’re on board, too.”
J, ever the realist, wasn’t so easily swayed. “I'm their manager, J, and before you make a decision, I’ve got a couple of questions. Pros and cons. What’s in it for them?”
Tessa didn’t hesitate. “Money. It’s the one thing every artist is after. And with us, we can help you get there.”
N and V exchanged a look. Money wasn’t everything, but it was something they needed.
V spoke first. “Money’s good. But what else?”
Tessa shrugged. “The usual—exposure, promotion, the works. But most importantly, we’ll back you up. You won’t be on your own anymore. JCJenson’s been around a long time. It’s time to bring it back to life. And you two? You could be the next big thing.”
N felt a rush of excitement. The chance to leave behind the grind, the struggle—this was their shot. He glanced over at V. “What do you think?”
V nodded. “I think we’re in.”
Tessa grinned. “Great. We’ve got a lot of work ahead, but I think we’re going to do something big here.”
N turned to J, who was looking at him with a raised brow. “Okay, we’re in. But there’s one more thing. We’ve got another member—my sister Cyn. We’re a group of four.”
J hesitated, then nodded. “Cyn, huh? Alright, we’ll see. But we need to make sure she’s serious.”
V, always the quick thinker, added, “And we need a name for the group. Something that represents us. Something that says we’re ready for whatever comes next.”
A few moments of silence followed before V, as if on instinct, said, “KillSwitch.”
The name hit N like a jolt of electricity, like flipping a switch. It was perfect. Powerful. Unstoppable.
Tessa clapped her hands, excited. “KillSwitch it is. Alrighty, we’ve got ourselves a team.”
N felt a surge of excitement, of something new. This could be the start of everything. KillSwitch was born, and it was time to take the world by storm.