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Posted (edited)

The screen flickers slightly, transitioning from footage of the brutal SummerCide Street Fight to the present: C-NOTE slouched in a deep velvet chair, shirtless, bruised ribs taped up, blunt in hand the size of a mic baton. A faint grimace crosses his face as he exhales a thick cloud, watching it curl upward like ghosts.


A massive mirror sits across the room, catching the low glint of the sunset bleeding in through tall windows. C-Note shifts, catches a glimpse of himself—black eye, swollen cheek, slow nod... then...


The mirror images twitches... glitches... changes.


Reflected back now is Le Prince Mamon... the more feral, elegant, sadistic version of C-Note, dressed sharp in a dark regal suit with blood-red accents, hair slick, gold rings catching light. He leans forward from the reflection, grinning.

 

LPM (sneering): Damn… look at you. My beautiful disaster. Ain’t you just the perfect little punching bag? You really let that mutt drag you through concrete like that? I felt every crack in your ribs like they were my own... and I enjoyed it.

 

C-N (chuckling, pulling the blunt from his lips): Funny… you talk like pain don’t live in your kingdom. But last I checked, we wear the same crown, don’t we? The difference is—I earn mine.

 

LPM: Don’t get cute. What you pulled the other night…tryin’ to recreate my magnificence… letting a fraud walk in my silhouette. That was almost unforgivable.

 

C-N (leaning back, eyes squinted like he ain’t bothered): Man… I don’t know what you're talkin’ bout. 

 

Mamon stares for a long, cold beat. Both of them know C-Note is lying. But he doesn’t press, he warns.


LPM: Your little miracle win at SummerCide? That was mercy. A stay of execution. But slip up once…and HE's gonna' let me off the leash. And when that happens? Ain’t no comebacks. Just carnage.

 

C-Note smirks, finishing his pull, eyes locked with the mirror.


C-N: Let HIM watch. Let YOU bark.


He stands slowly, grimacing slightly in pain, but proud.
 
C-N: I’m still HIS Money-Makin’ Messiah... Still OCW’s Saviour. And as long as I keep stackin’ up wins…you’ll stay my reflection. Now sit there and shine, puppet.

 

Mamon's face twists in a slow, knowing smirk. The mirror glitches—flickers—and C-Note’s real reflection returns. He stares at it a moment, then turns and walks away as the blunt burns down to ash in the tray.
 

Edited by C-Note
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