[ OT ] Sunday Free Write : Flights of Fancy Edition

Since hip hop immemorial there have been MCs with power beyond their ability to rock the mic. These MCs were known as the Grandmasters of hip hop. With their power and music, they spread knowledge and good will to the people and Hip Hop grew beyond being simply a music genre. However, those that sought to control the masses grew envious of the power of hip hop and tried to seize that power for themselves. They infiltrated the world of hip hop using any means necessary and turned it into a system. Seeking to restore the art to its original form, a legendary MC crafted a power that could cleanse hip hop of its infection. It was then that the iron mic was born. The MC, known as the Genius, along with the rest of his clan used this power to destroy many false hip hop artists and bring hip hop as an art form back to a state of supremacy but as a result it had become much more violent. The violence, though originally used to defend against things that would destroy hip hop, served as a gateway for much darker concepts and ideals to enter the world of hip hop. The art had been forever changed and it would take much more than a few good artists to restore it to its original form. Some say that there is no hope of ever achieving this feat. Others say that it is n't necessary, that change is inevitable and hip hop is merely a reflection of the world we inhabit and whatever happens to one will happen to the other 
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 “ Hey, dishwasher, there's a Saint Pablo in the lobby, said he wants to speak with you, ” That mofo shouted through the door. That mofo has a name but he doesn ’ t deserve one. The dishwasher, Jay, wiped his hands on his towel and made his way towards the door. “ Whoa, whoa, use the back exit and go around; he said he'll be outside waiting for you, ” the mofo said. Jay gave him an unamused look and walked out back. As he made his way around the building, he wondered who the hell Saint Pablo was and what he might want. It would probably be best to scope him out first. He doubled back and snaked through an alley that led him further from the front of the building then made his way back, keeping to the shadows. He spotted a figure standing in front of the restaurant next to a very expensive car. As his eyes adjusted to the lights out front he could clearly see the platinum selling rap artist Westye Khan. He sported a long black jacket that went down to his knees. It made him look like a final boss from a fighting game. The mofo appeared in the front door and peered outside. 
 
 “ Yo, where the hell is your dishwasher, ” yelled Westye. 
 
 “ I do n't know, he should have been out here already, ” Mofo called back. It suddenly dawned on him that Westye was Saint Pablo, and he was here waiting on him because he knew. Jay had been doing dishes using forbidden hip hop techniques. Damn... he knew he shouldn ’ t have been lazy tonight and took the easy route. There was no way he could stay here anymore, he ’ d have to skip town. He turned to leave and came face to face with... a man maybe… in a teddy bear... mascot costume? The head was comically large like the ones you see on sports mascots and it wore a collegiate jacket over a white tee shirt with jeans. The outfit was completed by a fresh pair of sneakers. The mascot stood before him unmoving, seemingly watching him with its deadpan eyes and empty expression. 
 
 “ Can I help you? ” Jay offered. The mascot pointed behind him. Westye Khan had made his way over and was now standing a few feet away from him. 
 
 “ Normally, I do n't need introduction but I feel like it's necessary to remind people that I go by the name of Saint Pablo now. I see you've met my friend, ” he nodded towards the bear mascot. “ So let's cut to the chase, I'm a very attentive man. ” “ I eat at a lot of different establishments. One of the things I take note of is cleanliness. ” “ Cleanliness is next to godliness which is why I stay fresh as hell. ” “ I noticed that the dishes in there are the cleanest dishes I've ever seen. ” Upon further inspection I could see that a forbidden hip hop technique had been used to clean them, ” he revealed. 
 
 Jay remained silent. He stood at an angle so he could see both the mascot and the rapper. 
 
 “ Oh you gon act like you ai n't hear me. Ok cool let's get on with it. You know how it goes. A yo Dropout, let's go, ” bellowed Pablo. 
 
 In a flash the mascot launched into action, covering the gap between itself and Jay in three steps. It let fly a strong left hook that was narrowly avoided. Jay countered with two distinct strikes to his assailant ’ s midsection, which to his surprise was extremely durable. The mascot staggered backwards and the dishwasher retreated several steps himself. His hands stung with pain from the punches he ’ d thrown. 
 
 “ Shaolin shadowboxing? ” inquired Pablo. 
 
 “ And the Wu-Tang sword style, ” Jay confirmed. He assumed a fighting stance Saint Pablo had never before seen. 
 
 “ If what you say is true, then your fighting style could be dangerous. Do you think your Wu tang sword can defeat me? ” Jay smirked and awaited the mascot ’ s next attack. As if reading his mind, Dropout held up his hand and shot a beam of purple light straight at him. Jay threw himself towards the ground to avoid it and rolled into a ready crouch. His heart racing, he prepared to use his hip hop technique, rapping the lyrics: 
 
 The cerebral assassin. The bastard is back in action 
 I ’ ve mastered the art of rapping ’, I ’ m spazzing on the attack 
 And I ’ m happy with my insanity, man I be whipping ass 
 A nine in my hand? Nah that ’ s tragic, I ’ m flagging myself for that one 
 
 As he rapped the words he waved his arms and wove hand signs; his movements appeared to be a cross between an adept martial artist and a rapper in the midst of a performance. The most important thing to notice was the way he seemed to be creating ice and water out of thin air. Every arc of his arm spawned a streak of water that froze mere moments after it appeared, freezing just in time to deflect each blast of the mascot ’ s laser beam. Saint Pablo watched in equal parts awe and frustration as this complete nobody went toe to toe with Dropout. He lifted his shutter shades for a moment to make sure his eyes weren ’ t deceiving him then dropped them back down. He fought hard to hide the half grin, half scowl that had twisted itself onto his face. 
 
 “ Ain ’ t no fucking way... aye yo Dropout stop playing with him, go ‘ head an give him the graduation version, ” Pablo spit. Dropout dropped its hands to its sides and light began to glow in the creases of the mascot mask. The eyes lit up as did several lights beneath the white t-shirt. A droning mechanical sound began rising steadily from seemingly everywhere. The dishwasher stood his ground, keeping a close eye on Pablo to make sure he wasn ’ t trying to enter the fray. There was a rush of air from Dropout, then a wave of energy destroyed the clothing that covered it from the neck down. Now it was clear to see that beneath the teddy bear costume mask was the body of a cyborg. Jay had no idea what he was seeing or what he ’ d gotten himself into but he knew it had gone from bad to worse. Pablo chimed back in, “ Give him the last track on the album, we need to wrap this up. ”
