The plane touched down with a series of jolts, tires screeching against tarmac. Behind them, scattered across the plane's economy section, the rest of their entourage stirred—Zel and Jordan waking from uncomfortable airplane sleep, Tyler already gathering his things, Jai removing his noise-canceling headphones, Zane finishing the book he'd been engrossed in since takeoff. Capari and three new associates—Deji, Emore, and Juke (Oakley's younger brother) all people he was close to or sowhat close to—occupied a cluster of seats near the back, their quiet conversation a constant undercurrent throughout the flight.
Amias watched as Zara smoothed down her gray sweatpants and adjusted her oversized hoodie—comfort prioritized over style for the long journey. Yet sohow, she still managed to look put together—beautiful, effortlessly in that way that seed second nature to her.
"You good?" he asked, noticing the slight furrow between her brows.
"Just thinking about the schedule," she replied, already back in manager mode. "We've got five hours before you need to et with Curtis. Should give us enough ti to get settled at the house before you need to head out."
The seatbelt sign dinged off, and the cabin erupted into the familiar symphony of overhead compartnts opening, bags shifting, passengers standing too quickly in too little space. Amias remained seated, in no hurry to join the crush.
"Rember," Zara continued, lowering her voice as she leaned closer, "This is your first major Arican connection. Use it to build relationships with people who can open doors here."
Amias nodded, suppressing a smile at her businesslike tone. "I know."
"And don't forget—"
"To be myself but also professional. To ask questions but not too many. To show appreciation without fawning." He completed her thought, counting the points off on his fingers. "I was listening the first three tis."
Zara rolled her eyes, but there was fondness in the gesture. She gathered her carry-on from beneath the seat in front, digging through it until she found her phone.
"Reception's back," she announced, the screen illuminating her face as notifications began flooding in. "Looks like the driver's already waiting."
—
The immigration line stretched endlessly, a serpentine arrangent of tired travelers separated by those flimsy retractable barriers that always seed simultaneously permanent and temporary. Lexus had positioned himself a few feet away, livestream already running on a cara mounted to a stabilizer, capturing the group's arrival while being careful to avoid filming other travelers or security personnel.
"...and yes, chat, we are finally in New York!" Lexus was saying, his first ti as Amias' irl cara man was off to a start. "The flight was long, but we made it. Amias is just sorting out his paperwork with immigration."
Amias glanced over, watching as Lexus panned across their group, careful to keep the cara movents smooth despite his obvious excitent. The viewer count at the bottom of his phone screen had already climbed past 4,000—a new peak.
"Yo, let chat to them for a second," Amias called out.
Lexus angled the cara toward Amias as he adjusted his white cap and he addressed the viewers directly.
"What's good, chat? We just touched down in New York. First ti here for most of us. Or maybe even all of us." He kept walking as he spoke, voice low but clear over the ambient noise of the terminal. "Thanks for tuning in. Appreciate all the love."
The chat scrolled rapidly:
GordonBleu: My guy in Arica now!
IntLife: AYEEE NEW YORK STAND UP
Sean Combs: What hotel you staying at?
Amias smirked at the barrage of questions. "We're heading to the spot now. Got a nice place sorted for the week—basketball court, studio setup, the whole thing. Going to be doing business out here too, not just music."
He handed the phone back to Lexus as they approached the baggage claim area, the massive carousels already spitting out luggage from their flight. Jordan and Tyler imdiately stepped forward, positioning themselves to collect the group's bags as they appeared.
Zara appeared at Amias's side, two bottled waters in hand. She passed one to him before taking a long sip from her own, watching the carousel with tired eyes.
"Thanks," Amias said, unscrewing the cap. Their fingers brushed as he took the bottle, and he noticed Zara didn't pull away imdiately, letting the contact linger for a second longer than necessary.
Behind them, Lexus continued narrating for the stream. "...got all our equipnt with us. The music gear, caras, everything. Amias had it all shipped ahead, so it should be set up at the house already."
"There," Zara pointed as one of their black suitcases rounded the corner of the carousel. Jordan moved quickly to grab it, setting it aside before returning to watch for the next one.
Amias took another sip of water, scanning the crowd around them. JFK was a universe unto itself—a lting pot even more concentrated than the city it served.
Businesspeople in rumpled suits clutching briefcases stood alongside tourists in "I ❤️ NY" t-shirts; families corralled exhausted children while solo travelers navigated the space with practiced efficiency.
"Different vibe from Heathrow," he observed.
Zara nodded. "More chaotic. Less queuing."
"More pushing," Amias added, watching a man muscling his way to the front of the carousel.
"Less apologizing," Zara finished with a small laugh.
Their eyes t, sharing in the observation of this foreign place with its slightly altered social norms.
"Yo, Amias," Capari called, breaking the mont. "All our cases are off. We ready to roll?"
Amias turned, noting that their group had indeed collected all their luggage—an impressive array of suitcases and equipnt bags now clustered around them.
"Yeah, let's move. Driver should be waiting."
—
The arrivals hall was a cacophony of reunions—tearful embraces, excited greetings, the occasional frustrated wait. Amias scanned the sea of placards held by drivers until he spotted it—a simple sign reading "MARS" in bold black letters.
Their driver was a stocky man with salt-and-pepper hair and the weathered face of soone who had seen every corner of the city. He nodded in recognition as they approached.
"Mr. Mars? I'm Anthony. Got two vehicles waiting outside for you and your group."
"Appreciate it," Amias replied, extending his hand. The driver seed montarily surprised by the gesture but shook it firmly.
"Follow , please. The sprinters are just outside."
They made their way through the terminal, a caravan of luggage trolleys and tired travelers. Lexus continued filming, capturing the journey from air to ground, the transition from travelers to visitors.
"Chat wants to know if you're nervous about tomorrow," Lexus said, glancing at his phone screen as they walked.
Amias considered the question. The truth was complex—a mixture of anticipation, confidence, and the ever-present awareness that this was a pivotal mont. The System had prepared him for this, of course. Had optimized his skills, provided the frawork for success. But there was still the undeniable reality of standing on a stage in front of tens of thousands of Aricans who had never heard his na.
"Excited more than nervous," he replied simply. "Ready to show New York what we're about."
Outside, the humid New York air hit like a wall—thick, heavy, carrying the distinctive scent of a city in sumr. Two black rcedes vans idled at the curb, their gleaming exteriors reflecting the airport's harsh fluorescent lights.
"First impressions of New York?" Lexus asked for the benefit of the stream.
Amias grinned, gesturing at the vans. "A bit different from Texas and Florida but so far, so good."
The driver began loading their luggage into the vehicles' spacious trunks while the group divided themselves between the two vans. Amias, Zara, Zane, Lexus, and Jordan took the first van; Capari, Juke, Zel, Tyler, Jai and others in the second.
Inside, the van's interior was all black leather and tinted windows, offering a cool reprieve from the sticky airport air. Amias settled into the back row, surprised when Zara slid in beside him rather than taking one of the empty seats.
"Hope you don't mind," she said, already settling in against his side. "These long seats are more comfortable for the drive."
"No problem," he replied, aware of Lexus's cara capturing the mont from the row ahead. He made no comnt as Zara leaned slightly against his shoulder, her tablet already out and opened to a folder of design files.
"Check these out," she said, swiping through a series of rchandise concepts. "Alessandra sent them over during the flight. Thoughts?"
Amias studied the designs—minimalist t-shirts with subtle 'M' logos, hoodies emblazoned with the North Recording Group compass, limited edition jackets that echoed his own style without directly copying it.
"These are clean," he admitted, pointing to one particular design. "Especially this one."
The van pulled away from the curb, rging into the airport traffic. Through the windshield, the skyline of Manhattan shimred in the distance, a jagged silhouette against the late afternoon sky.
Lexus panned his cara toward the view. "There it is, chat! New York City!"
The chat erupted with excitent:
Lovouon: Get ready NY, UK taking over
MartianOscar: Amias bout to blow UP
CeeFamily: First CentralCee now Amias, family domination
MartianTeevo: North Recording Group worldwide now!!
Amias watched the city grow larger through the window, the iconic architecture coming into focus. Despite his composed exterior, there was a flutter of sothing in his chest—not quite nervousness, not quite excitent, but sothing in between.
"The traffic's actually not too bad right now," Anthony called from the driver's seat. "Should have you at your place in about forty minutes, depending on the tunnel."
Amias nodded his thanks, then returned his attention to Zara's tablet, where she was now showing him schedule details for the coming days.
"So after tomorrow's show, there's a etup with this producer—Curtis wants you to speak with him" she said, pointing to a 10 AM slot. "And the second show is the day after. From there all your etings and events you have lined up."
"Got it," Amias replied.
The conversation in the van flowed easily as they made their way through New York, the city unfurling before them, a concrete tapestry of neighborhoods and boroughs, each with its own character, its own rhythm. Amias had visited Florida once and well grew up in Texas, but this was different—this was New York City, the epicenter of Arican culture, the place where legends were forged and careers defined. The gravity of the opportunity wasn't lost on him.
"We're crossing into Manhattan now," Anthony announced as they entered the Midtown Tunnel, the daylight suddenly replaced by the tunnel's orange glow.
Zara, who had been quietly scrolling through emails, looked up at the announcent. For a brief mont, her deanor slipped, revealing the teenage girl beneath—eyes wide with wonder as they erged from the tunnel into the concrete canyons New York.
"Wow," she breathed, the single syllable conveying genuine awe.
He followed her gaze out the window, taking in the towering skyscrapers that seed to defy physics, the bustling sidewalks teeming with life, the constant movent that gave the city its pulse.
"It's sothing else," he agreed, his voice low.
Lexus captured their expressions on the livestream, the cara panning from their faces to the view outside.
"This is mad," Jordan said from his seat, pressing his face against the glass like a child at an aquarium. "Like, I've seen it in films and that, but it's different when you're actually here."
"Wait till you see the place we're staying," Amias replied, a hint of satisfaction in his tone. He'd spent hours researching properties, wanting to find sothing that balanced luxury with practicality, comfort with functionality. The house he'd eventually secured was a modern property in SoHo—spacious, equipped with everything they would need for both living and working.
Not to ntion—expensive.
The van wound its way through Manhattan traffic, crossing a Bridge into SoHo. The neighborhoods shifted around them—still undeniably New York, but with a different energy, a different architectural language.
Anthony navigated the streets with practiced ease, finally pulling up to a fenced property surrounded by tall trees and foliage.
"Here we are," he announced, bringing the van to a stop. "Your ho in New York City."
—
The second van pulled up behind them as they disembarked, the entire group assembling on the sidewalk before the house. Lexus continued streaming, capturing their first reactions to the property.
"Fam, this is sick," Tyler exclaid, staring up at the building.
"For the week," Amias confird, a note of pride in his voice. He glanced at his phone, entering a code into an app. There was a soft click as the front gate unlocked remotely. "Let's get settled."
As the others began unloading luggage from the vans, Amias approached Anthony to settle the fare. The driver handed him a business card after the transaction was complete.
"I'm available whenever you need transportation during your stay," he said. "Curtis ntioned you might need a reliable driver."
Amias nodded, tucking the card into his wallet. "Appreciate that. We'll definitely be in touch."
With the financial matters handled, he rejoined the group at the house entrance. A woman in a blazer was waiting just inside, clipboard in hand.
"Mr. Mars? I'm Rebecca from the property managent company. I'll be giving you a quick tour of the house and explaining the anities."
"Thank you," Amias replied, extending his hand. He turned to the others. "You all go ahead. I'll catch up in a few."
He'd already seen multiple videos of in-depth tours of the entire property. The house itself had spacious living area with floor-to-ceiling windows, a professional-grade kitchen with marble countertops, a dining space that could comfortably seat twelve. The lower level had been converted into an entertainnt area complete with a ho theater system and ga consoles.
Most impressive, however, was the dedicated music and stream area—a space that had clearly been designed with acoustics in mind. Equipnt had been set up according to Amias' specifications—monitors, keyboards, microphones, the works. All the gear Capari had gifted him for his birthday, shipped ahead and assembled by professionals.
"The backyard features a half basketball court and seating area," He heard Rebecca say when he caught up to the group, reading a email on his phone all the whilst, Rebecca lead them through glass doors to the outdoor space. "The property is fully fenced for privacy, and there's a security system with caras covering all entry points."
Amias excused himself as quickly as he ca, eager to see the sleeping arrangents. He climbed the stairs to the upper floor, Zara following close behind.
"Our room should be this one," he said, approaching the master suite at the end of the hallway. The door swung open to reveal a generously proportioned bedroom dominated by a king-sized bed. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a stunning view of the neighborhood, and a sitting area with a small sofa and coffee table occupied one corner.
Zara entered behind him, her eyes widening as she took in the space. She set her carry-on down and twirled once in the center of the room, arms outstretched.
"Wow," she breathed, taking in the high ceilings and elegant furnishings. "This is...not what I was expecting."
"Good surprise or bad surprise?" Amias asked, watching her reaction with satisfaction.
"Definitely good," she replied, moving to inspect the walk-in closet. "This is bigger than all the rooms in my ho combined!"
Amias chuckled, running his hand along the smooth surface of a dresser. The room was tastefully decorated in neutral tones—creams, grays, the occasional accent of navy blue. Modern artwork adorned the walls, abstract pieces that added color without being distracting.
The en-suite bathroom was equally impressive—a glass-enclosed rainfall shower, double vanity, and a deep soaking tub positioned beneath a window.
"Your parents would definitely approve of the sleeping arrangents," Amias comnted, returning to the bedroom where Zara was now testing the mattress, bouncing slightly on the edge of the bed.
"Mmm, especially the size of this bed," she replied with a laugh. "No chance of accidentally rolling too close in our sleep."
There was sothing in her tone—a slight emphasis on "accidentally" perhaps—that made Amias glance at her curiously. She t his gaze with an unreadable expression before quickly changing the subject.
"What's this do?" she asked, pointing to a small panel on the wall with various switches.
Amias approached, examining the labels. "Lights...curtains...music..." His finger hovered over one simply marked "mood." "Let's find out," he said, flicking the switch.
The transformation was imdiate and unmistakable. The main lights dimd to a soft glow while hidden LED strips cast the room in a warm, reddish hue. The blackout curtains glided silently across the windows, plunging the room into intimate semi-darkness. From concealed speakers, the low, sultry notes of a jazz saxophone filled the air, and a subtle scent of roses began to perate the space.
Zara's eyebrows shot up, a blush spreading across her cheeks as the implications beca clear.
"Oh," she said softly.
"Yeah," Amias replied, reaching quickly for the switch to return the room to its normal state. "That's...sothing."
The lights ca back up, the music faded, the curtains reopened.
Zara cleared her throat, picking up her bag from where she'd set it down. "I should probably unpack before we have to leave again."
"Yeah," Amias agreed, grateful for the change of subject. "I'm going to check out the studio setup. Make yourself comfortable."
He retreated from the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. In the hallway, he paused for a mont, collecting himself before heading downstairs to rejoin the others.
Lexus was in the main living area, still streaming as the others explored the house.
"Amias!" he called out. "Want to show chat the studio space? People are asking about the setup."
"Sure," Amias replied, gesturing for Lexus to follow him. "Let's show them what we're working with."
The studio space was at the rear of the ground floor—a room that had once been a formal dining room, now transford into a creative sanctuary. The equipnt had been arranged exactly as Amias had specified in his advance instructions—workstation in the center, monitors positioned for optimal sound, recording booth nestled in the corner.
"This is where the magic happens, chat," Amias said as Lexus panned the cara around the room. "Got everything shipped over from London. Going to be creating so new material while we're here."
He moved through the space, explaining the various pieces of equipnt—the keyboard workstation, the turntables, the rack of audio interfaces. His fingers traced the familiar knobs and faders of his gear, the physical connection to his creative tools grounding him in this foreign place.
On one wall, several frad posters leaned against the baseboard, waiting to be hung. Amias picked up the first one—the cover of Wild West, Oakley's mixtape, stylishly rendered in blues and golds.
"My cousin's project," he explained, holding it up for the cara. "Going to have this up for inspiration."
The next poster featured a striking design—a minimalist "M" with a smaller "a" nestled within its form, the whole logo rendered in tallic silver against a matte black background.
The final poster was perhaps the most impressive—an aerial view of a pool of water surrounded by trees. Upon closer inspection, the trees ford the letters "NRG"—an elegant representation of North Recording Group.
"The label logo," Amias explained. "North Recording Group. It's official now—registered business, tax docunts, the works."
"Wait," soone called from the doorway. It was Capari, holding a basketball. "You have your own label now?"
Amias nodded. "Mainly for tax purposes at this stage, but yeah."
"That's mad," Capari replied, clearly impressed. "You're really building an empire, huh?"
"One brick at a ti," Amias said with a slight smile.
"Let's check out the basketball court," he suggested, turning back to Lexus. "Show chat the outside space."
They made their way through the house and out to the back garden, where a sleek half-court had been installed, complete with a professional backboard and hoop. Several of the others were already there—Juke demonstrating his surprisingly good jump shot.
"Yo, Amias!" Juke called out, spotting him. "Want to try?"
Amias hesitated—basketball had never been his strength—but nodded, accepting the ball when Juke passed it to him. He bounced it once, twice, positioned himself at what he hoped was a reasonable distance from the hoop, and shot.
The ball sailed through the air in a perfect arc that looked promising right until it missed the rim entirely, not even grazing the net before bouncing off the backboard.
A mont of silence followed the impressive airball, then laughter erupted from the group.
Amias shook his head, a reluctant smile forming. "And that's why I stick to music," he said, turning away from the court with as much dignity as he could muster.
Lexus followed, the cara capturing Amias's good-natured retreat. "Alright chat, we're going to end the stream here. Need to get settled in before Amias heads out to et with 50 Cent."
The ntion of Curtis brought Amias back to the reality of why they were here—the performances, the connections, the opportunities. He approached Lexus, speaking directly to the cara.
"Thanks for tuning in, everyone. Appreciate you joining us for the arrival. We'll be back with more content soon."
Lexus nodded, reaching for the end stream button.
"Alright," Amias said, covering the cara lens with his hand.
Ten seconds later—hand still on the cara while watching Lexus fiddle with the phone app, he asked "Are you still streaming?"
"Yeah," Lexus replied, looking confused. "I'm about to end it."
"Well, hurry up," Amias whispered, still covering the lens. "I've been standing here for like 20 seconds now."
"I'm trying," Lexus insisted, fumbling with the phone. "The app's being weird."
"Damn, you got covering this thing like a fool," Amias muttered, his voice hushed but laced with amusent. "Co on, Lexus, be on timing."
"Hold on, hold on," Lexus replied, finally locating the right button. "Got it! We're off."
Amias removed his hand, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Professional operation we're running here," he teased.
Lexus grinned, pocketing his phone. "Hey, technical difficulties happen to the best of us."
The sun was beginning its descent over Brooklyn, casting long shadows across the basketball court. Inside the house, voices echoed as the team explored their temporary ho, claiming rooms, testing facilities, transforming the space into their own.
He checked his watch. Ti to prepare.
There is always 1 extra chapter for this, LZ and SF on discxrd. Links on profile
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