Chapter 69: Grand Finale (5)
...
[Karen The Manager: This is disgusting. This was supposed to be a family show! Why was he allowed to rap such violent lyrics? I am calling the FCC. Julian sang a nice song about smiling and this hooligan ruined it!]
[Sigma Grindset: @Karen The Manager cry more. Julian got exposed. Von is the alpha in this situation. Bro didn’t even touch him, he just destroyed him with words ??????]
[Your Mom’s BF: I can’t believe my sister showed
this clip, I never watch reality TV but DAMN. Illest Liar Alive. That is a bar. Julian, sorry brr but you’re cooked. Your dad must have helped Von co up with this sick song ????]
[Sneaky Link: I feel like I just watched a cri docuntary. Von is scary but in a hot way? Is that weird? #TeamVon]
[Crypto King: Does it matter? Julian has the machine behind him. The vote is probably rigged anyway. But Von won the culture war tonight ??]
[No Cap fr: @Crypto King don’t talk shit if you ain’t getting the plot please. There ain’t nothing like rigged, anyone who’s winning is winning fair and square. Y’all ain’t got no need to prepare your excuses in advance ??]
[Sad Boi Hours: I can’t believe Von is about to win this just because of this one performance, it’s not fair at all, Julian deserves it for his consistency. He has the voice of an angel! ??]
[Street Prophet: Well bro. Julian’s a snake, and even though Von is an asshole I’ll always take an asshole over a snake. At least the asshole tells you he’s gonna hit you Snakes bites you when you sleep ????????]
[iPhone User 79: I am downloading the Star App right now just to vote for Von. I have never voted in my life. Not even for president. But that privileged son of a bitch Julian can’t win this shit ??]
***
While the internet burned down, the atmosphere in the contestant holding room was colder than liquid nitrogen.
There were re minutes left before the voting portal closed. Von and Julian were seated on the sa plush leather couch where they had started the night, but the dynamic had shifted tectonically.
Earlier, imdiately after they had walked off stage during the comrcial break, chaos had erupted.
Julian, stripped of his Saint persona the mont the caras cut, had lunged at Von. His face had been twisted in ugly, red-faced rage, spitting accusations of defamation and slander. He had scread that he would sue Von for every penny he would ever make.
But to Von, the threat had been laughable. He hadn’t even flinched. Security had intervened before Julian could land a hit, restraining the "Golden Boy" and forcing him to sit down.
An internal investigation was already being whispered about by the producers in the hallway, but for now, the show had to go on.
They were forced to sit together, separated by two feet of leather cushion, watching the live polling data on the monitor.
Julian sat with his legs crossed, his hands gripping his knees, but he had to force a calm smile onto his face for the benefit of the roaming backstage caraman, but his eyes were darting nervously, and a sheen of sweat broke through his makeup.
Von, on the other hand, looked like a king on his throne.
He spread his arms wide across the top of the couch, manspreading comfortably, taking up as much space as possible. A wild, satisfied grin played on his lips.
On the screen before them, two massive bars represented the live vote count. They weren’t labeled with nas and were not made public to the viewers, but to the two n in the room, the identity of the bars was obvious.
Bar A was clearly gapping Bar B, and if expressed by percentage, Bar A was accumulating over 80% of the votes alone. It was a landslide. It was a massacre.
A part of Von bore a small, nagging fear... what if Julian is Bar A? But he dismissed it. Unless the entire world had gone blind and deaf, there was no way Julian’s generic pop song had beaten Masquerade.
Von had cleared the air. He had exposed the lie. The internet comnts he had seen briefly on his phone had confird it. The world was on his side.
And Von was convinced Masquerade was a masterpiece. The System had rewarded him with an A-grade Rap skill when he was done with the composition, allowing him to deliver the song with the precision of a seasoned rapper.
[Skill: Bar Spitter]
[Grade: A]
[Description: Grants high-level lyrical improvisation and breath control to deliver tap performance]
It had played a crucial role to Von’s performance, and the results was now impressing even him.
[VOTING CLOSES IN: 00:59].
Von closed his eyes for a mont, letting the imagination take over. He pictured the confetti falling. He pictured the check for $1,000,000 in his hand. He thought about Zack, jumping up and down in the dorm room. He thought about Naomi, finally quitting that club, finally safe, finally proud. Just sixty second left to that reality.
’We did it,’ Von thought. ’I crossed the finish line.’
He opened his eyes and leaned forward, deciding to savor the mont. He turned his head to observe Julian’s face. He wanted to see the despair.
But when he looked, Julian wasn’t crying.
Julian was staring at the screen, his mouth slowly opening. The look of stress evaporated, replaced by a sudden, manic brightness. He uncrossed his legs and stood up from the couch with wide eyes.
"YES!" Julian shouted, clapping his hands together. "YES!"
"Huh?" Von raised an eyebrow in genuine confusion. He turned his head back to the screen and blood drained from his face.
On the monitor, sothing impossible was happening.
BAR B the bar that had been languishing at 20% for twenty-nine minutes was suddenly shooting upward. It wasn’t a gradual climb. It was a vertical spike.
In the span of seconds, it caught up with Bar A, and now it was on the verge of going over it. Von’s face paled... The tables had turned all of a sudden.
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