Ayo what's up y'all, Fowl-Kon, in the building, haha. This is my first ori-fic (original fiction), if you have to flame me, do so with a light touch. This is actually a test of my hand at writing a story. So, this is a total experiment, to see if I'm good at this.

Basically, the synopsis is: "When an accident befalls upon a Houston rapper, he is told about his true importance in the world and given the chance to go back and fix one certain aspect of his life in order to move forward in time"

Most locations mentioned are real. I don't own the rights to Marco Polo's song "Nostalgia" ft. Masta Ace from the "Port Authority" album, and that's the only disclaimer. This is partially a songfic, just to let you know. However, I do own a copy of "Port Authority", so a play the disc until it gets worn, lol.

Regular Text

"Speach"

'Thought'

Lyrics

"Chapter and Song Titles"

"Ayo D.J., Play Back That Beat"

Chapter One – "Track 1--Kicking Off A Beat"

It's weird how life can throw you some crazy-ass curveballs, for real. Just when you're at the top of your game, some punk gotta act a fool and make the attempt to knock you off? Damn, it happened to me, and just when my music career was starting to take off. Man, this bites like hell; and I just got off from my tour.

Before I continue with my story, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Xavier Arroyo; a 23-year-old politically inclined, half-Filipino/half-white, rapper outta the Clear Lake Area of Houston, Texas, originally from a ghetto suburb of Oakland, California. I'm a 2006 graduate from Clear Lake High, home of the Falcons, and proud to be one for life. Hell, that's where and how I came to be, you couldn't have guessed that my stage name would be Fowl-Kon Activ-Fist. And to think, it started for me with a four line verse about celebrating the holidays and a will to try and impress a certain girl. Before the winter holiday my sophomore year, I was rapping the infamous "Holiday Rap"; follow by rehearsing Swift's verse in D12's "My Band".

In my junior year, I started to get serious and started writing real rhymes. I was talking about having fun as a teen; politics and certain news issues; facing adversity against people who said I wouldn't make it; a friend having the contemplation of suicide; trying to make it to graduation; and of course, trying to tell how I this one girl how much I liked her back in the day, an still to this day. In spring 2005, I rapped to the song to the song "Something Wicked This Way Comes" by TLC feat. Andre 3000 at the talent show because I couldn't get an original beat produced for me to tear on. Ha ha, I still my friend Robby, the high school magician, who was the talent show emcee, telling me not say "Nigga" during the show.

I remember planning on sampling Vitamin C for my song, "Graduation". I remember how I almost didn't graduate because of my Web Mastering class; I still graduated in the summer after completing a BCIS class. I remember telling all my friends that I was gonna be big some day when all of us parted ways. I remember arriving at San Jacinto College – South Campus and got down to writing some serious lines; how I met a good number of my friends all at once at the same time Party 104.9 and how we all were in a circle freestyling; how Candyman from 104.9 critiqued my lyrics and said how I was off to a good start.

I remember taking up some classes at the Central Campus and discovering that there was a club titled "Hip Hop Society". That club is where I met a friend who to me was gonna be a value asset to me. That dude was the club president, Mario, a.k.a. Cutz. He was the one who gave me a mess of these beats that he and friend of his got off of a website called "Sound Click". The same beats used to help put together my demo disc I titled "Pre LP".

That same demo that I completed in the summer of 2009 and started selling those "Pre LP" mixtapes around some of the more dangerous areas of Houston, including 3rd Ward, 5th Ward, South Park, Bellaire, Pasadena, Mo City (Missouri City), and Sharpstown. Somehow, by the grace of God, found its way to a very Houston area prominent hip hop CEO from Rap-A-Lot Records, to whom I know commonly as J Prince. When I got the call that he wanted to see me in a studio, rapping, I nearly died while on the job at my neighborhood Kroger in Seabrook. I remember how everyone at the studio nearly died laughing when I admitted that I couldn't freestyle, but I more than made up in compensation when it came up to anything I wrote. Even though I knew I needed to improve in my flow and delivery, I was hearing how I was good at matching the beat to lyrics, how I spilled my soul into lyrics and illustrate the song, the beats I used that weren't industry-made, and the grittiness of style, how melodic the music was. That got me signed on January 27, 2010, and not just as a rapper, but also a producer because they said I good ear for good music and reproduce it from scratch on computer.

They decided to re-release the "Pre LP" mixtape, nationwide, in two different versions, "The Gritty Hood", which had some of my friends and I freestyle and some of my spoken word poetry, and the "Studio Edit" which had three additional songs by me and some songs I showcased featuring some of my friends. When I hearing both the gritty and studio versions on radio, man, was I elated; hearing myself on air and to see two thugs in the new car jamming to the same song, I smiled and said, "damn". My mind had not just applauded, it was massive standing ovation.

All of a sudden, people were beginning to wonder who I was. My label was receiving and fielding calls from MTV, BET, and any and all hip hop/rap stations all over the nation, and even some in Toronto, Canada were messaging. I was requested with so many interviews. I could feel the rush of the fame that was coming to me and I got caught in current and swept off. I nearly felt like a lamb to the slaughter of wolves and lions. Oh how the crowd was stunned with the fact of my lack of ability to freestyle, even though some of my verses sounded like it. Some of these hard critics took that like a big grain of salt in a wound. It was, really, a mixed bag; some stated that I wouldn't make it, drop and flop, will not achieve success. Others, however, saw me in a different light, as one L.A. columnist had humorously put it "a refreshing breath from the steaming pile of ---- of what the game had become of in the past ten years.", to which I gave a hearty, rolling on the floor laugh. I was so pleased when the majority of New York City biased hip hop critics had stated that they liked my style and sound because when it came to a standard in hip hop it was to impress that New York standard. Oh, how I thanked my college friend, J, who was originally from Astoria, Queens, New York, who I considered as my most important critic.

That summer, I began my North American tour, visiting cities like New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, Toronto, Montreal, Atlanta, Cuidid Del Mexico (Mexico City), Miami, Vancouver, etc. I never knew how the groupies, or "gropies" as I liked to call them, on the bus; but the obvious answers would be the other artists and emcees, their roadies, and my friends that I brought along. I could tell so easily that these girls were succubae, leering as me, along with the other acts, as baby-making meal tickets. I could tell that four or five of them I met on tour glared at me like that. I knew that game; they'll liquor you up, seduce you lure you to the bed, have unprotected sex with you, and at least nine months later, they'd abuse the court system and hit you up for child support every month. But I knew to deny and had said that I'm a virgin (which IS true) and that holding out for someone special. Talk about a leap of faith I would go for someone who would probably still deny me. The two concerts on tour that were most important to me were the first and last ones, Oakland then Houston. The reason is that Oakland where I was originally from and where my childhood lived so I knew I would have some support. Houston was the city where I laid my head at home, where I had made so many friends, lifelong bonds.

It was now 2:47 AM Oct. 2nd, 2010, the early morning after the night of my last concert which was held at the Reliant Arena. Later that night into this early twilight morning, I, along with the other artists and the record execs and every damn roadie that was on tour, which led to an accumulation of at least 150 people in our party, held in a new nightclub in Houston's West Chase District call Zenith, a building holding about 900 partiers, 26 go-go dancers, 13 bouncers, 4 bartenders, the deejay, the club owner and his girlfriends, yes girlfriends as in plural. It was getting to closing time, and the crowd was starting to dwindle down. I was outside of the club by about 4:15 in the morning and I knew I had a long drive home ahead of me. I pulled out of the parking lot in my always-beat-up, gas-guzzling, black, '97 Mountaineer. I turned north from Meadowglen to Hayes, then east onto Westheimer. As I passed the West Chase Shopping Center on Westheimer and Wilcrest, I saw the toll road that looped the outer rim of downtown Houston, Sam Houston Tollway-Beltway 8. I knew recently that they had upped the toll to $2.00 per axel, and I knew that I didn't have cash or a card on hand, no EZ Tag Pass, and not enough coins to make up $8.00-$12.00. Besides, I knew that I had more than enough gas to take through the city streets.

As I passed the Gessner, I decided to play some of the CDs I owned more specifically, the ones already in the player. The first disc on the playlist was "Port Authority" album by Marco Polo, a Canadian Hip Hop Producer, who I considered a New York version of DJ Khalid, and by far a better one, more comparable to Pete Rock and DJ Premier. As I cruise down Westheimer toward Elgin and I-45, I was jamming to the intro and first three tracks, "Get Busy" ft. Copyright, "Marquee" ft. O.C., and "War" ft. Kardinal Offishall. As I reached the north side of the Houston Galleria near the crossing of the 610 West Loop, I caught the glimpse of two naturally-tanned, extremely good-looking, white girls, a blonde in the passenger seat and a brunette at the wheel, both absolutely stunning, in a nice brand new, beige, 2011 Navigator, looking back at me, smiling, waving, and blowing kisses, obviously knowing who I am. Man, if looks could kill, I'd be stone cold blue six ft. under the slab. Then one of my favorite all-time songs began to play, "Port Authority" Track 5, "Nostalgia" ft. Masta Ace. In a flash of brilliance, I decided to flirt with these girls by rapping along to the song.

Nostalgia

[Marco Polo Ft. Masta Ace]

Yo, what's up Marco?

What's up Brooklyn?

Filthy rich

[Verse 1: Masta Ace]

People in the audience, Masta Ace the name

I write rhymes and insert them inside your vein

They run through your bloodstream, get inside your brain

Cause I first put my name up inside the train

My mic control has been unprecendented

And you wrong if you thought you was was the best that did it

See I just started messing with it,

I been married to the game since '88 You just commited

The entire fate of the whole Empire States

into hands of a man that's here to inspire hate

Heed for the state of the music

and all these other cats looking for another way to abuse it

I wake you up like a gun in the face

I'm just here to let you know who's like running the place

And everywhere that I perform and do a show

As long as you know

[Chorus in cuts and scratches]

"This is for those that don't know the half"

"Backtrack turn back the page"

"Let me show y'all new rappers"

"That's how the game go"

"This is for those that don't know the half"

"Backtrack turn back the page"

"Don't be missing any word I say"

[Verse 2: Masta Ace]

You love to hear the story, again and again

How it all got started from beginning to end

When cats used to run in a pack and slaughter

The rooftop, Union Square and the Latin Quarter

And if you came alone than your chain was gone

Unless you was from the hood and your name was known (yap)

And even than you was taking a risk

They would rush you for your chain while you was taking a piss

Hip hop used to be so thick in the air

When it was there you ain't even needed to kick in a snare

It could have been finger snaps and hand claps

But nowadays it feels a little different when a man raps

The track commence and these cats are French

The media lacking sense, what I rap's intense

AND I be the best in these rap events

And how I got this far?

It's called experience, come on

[Chorus]

[Verse 3: Masta Ace]

Yo it's the Ace in the flesh,

of course I'm fresh

Oh you thought that I was rotten?

Huh, you must have gotten

a bad sack of weed

cause I track your speed

I run up, fondle your wife and smack your seed

I've been a star since Pat Benatar

and I still want the house, the boat, the truck AND the car

The limousine with the big screen and the bar

I'm trying to eat, watch it pour on like vine-gar

Cause I'm old and grey, control the day

I'm kinda like the light cause I show the way

I'm the one to collect the funds and hold the pay

The kind that fold away than I stroll the way

Shit, I can't name all the hits we charted

That crazy ass Crooklyn ass shit, we got it

We came here tonight to get started

To go, act ill and get re-tarded

[Chorus and scratches to fade out]

"In this rap game"

"This might be my last one"

Little did I know, the last six words of that song, "This might be my last one", could not have foreshadowed what was to befall in front of me, but that was not on my mind at the moment. Oh that did it; that won them over, they were liking me a whole lot. As we pulled up to a red light on Drexel, the brunette shouted,

"You look so familiar, what's your name?" she asked. "Oh you don't know me? I'm quite famous." I replied.

"Really?" "Yeah, my name is Xavier Arroyo, but I'm well known as that new rapper, Fowl-Kon Activ-Fist" I stated.

"Y-y-you're that rapper Fowl-Kon Activ-Fist? No way, I know he drives better cars than that", referring to the beat up front of my vehicle.

I retorted with, "Yeah but I'm not about that cash, you know? Let's pull over so we can talk more." "Okay."

We pulled over to the side of the street near the corner of Westheimer and Weslayan, just inside the 610 loop, so we wouldn't block any oncoming traffic. As we stepped out onto the sidewalk, I continued with, "As I was saying, cars, bling, million dollar homes, those are nice to have, but those to me aren't that necessary the way I see it. My philosophy, the less I have, the more humble I become."

"Is that so? Well yeah, I've read you're lyrics before, you're really poetic you know?" the brunette girl said.

"Yeah, I get that a lot. By the way, I never got your names" "Oh, yeah sorry, I'm Gabby", the brunette replied. "And, I'm Abby", the blonde followed. "Hey Fowl (Oh how I love that nickname), I am, for real, a big fan of yours. I have red the lyrics to all of your songs." Gabby said excitedly. "It's true, she has." Abby retorted. "And I have got to ask you, you're songs 'Backstabbers' from the 'Pre-LP', and 'Stuck In My Mind', 'Why', 'Who Is She', 'Everyday' and 'Graduation' from 'Filipino Graduate', you were personally referring to someone in your music; I have to ask, who?"

"Oh wow, I get this question publicly all the time during interviews. But since, this isn't so, and for the fact that you're an eager enough fan, okay I'll answer. First off, my songs, 'Backstabbers' and 'Why', are referring to an ex-girlfriend I used to have an LDR (Long-Distance Relationship) with, one who I caught cheating in the worst way, instantly broke up with, and severed all ties from. All the other songs were about this one girl who I was in love with throughout high school, and obviously everyone knew about it. The thing about it is that it's kind of unrequited and I think I'm still in love with her. The only thing I'll tell about her is that she just graduated from UT Austin."

"Aww, that's sweet, why don't you tell her?" Abby started. "Yeah, I mean, your love lyrics are so poetic, she has to know that it's about her, right?" Gabby continued.

"Beside me being a rapper, she knew I had feelings for her, so I can guess that there would be some weird, awkward silence, and if some of our friends were there, provided that alcohol would be in the mix, mixed with their collective brains (hint my sarcasm), they would tell me to 'ask her out' or 'try and kiss her', while they would also say to her 'talk to Xavier, there's no in that'" they laugh at my answer. "So where are you two from?" I inquired.

"Well, I'm a sophomore and I live on campus at the Texas Southern University" Abby informed, "and Gabby is a sophomore over at the Univ. of Houston."

"U of H? My mom works there, Dept. of Research." I quickly responded. "Oh wow, we didn't know that." "Well I guess you two got something to tell your friends. If you two have a digital camera, you can prove it too" I laughed. So we took photographs on Gabby's cam. I told them to immediately get those up on MySpace and FaceBook and I said that they can add me on the sites as friends, and to check me under Xavier Arroyo and not under Fowl-Kon Activ-Fist. As I saw the sunlight breaking to the east and the traffic starting to increase, I knew it was time to get going "Man, 6:42 A.M., looks like the days about to start. So, where are you two heading?" "Home to our dorms, and you?" "I'm heading home to Seabrook, and yes I'm a long ways away." The last thing of the two girls that I saw after they pulled out of the Shell station were the taillights of their car on Westheimer sputtering off into the distance towards Elgin, to same route I was taking to get to I-45.

As I was getting ready to leave, I heard two people hollering at me from a considerable distance behind me. "Ay, ese, I like your car holmes, it's black" the shorter one shouted. As I turned around, right before me, I see two Latinos, probably gang-members, walking from the Mobile station across the street. My first thought was Mara Salvatrucha or MS-13. Then I noticed and analyze them, the taller one with a black bandana; a rosary; a black polo shirt with small, white, horizontal stripes; and flip flops, the other had a black durag; a small, fake, silver plated, chain with a cross; a black and silver South Park Mexican t-shirt, and black Chuck Taylor Converses; both wore black, denim Dickie shorts with black leather belts with small silver buckles with the front tails of their shirts tucked in and both weilded black handguns. The shorter one reminded me of that on character, Joker, from the movie, "Next Friday", but with a more serious and determined demeanor.

"You don't mind if we took it for a spin, ay holmes?" I was kicking mad at my self for wearing blue and white from head to toe and the gang I was starting to suspect just happened to hate anyone who rocked blue with a passion. My attire had consisted of loose blue denim jeans with cargo pockets, a fashion favorite of mine; powder blue Starbury lowtops with anke high white socks; a white tee, graffiti air-brushed with a red outlined, black, silver and blue falcon; and a navy blue Nike hoodie; my USB drive that I always wore religiously around my neck, that thing has my entire heart and soul poured into it, my music lyrics and stories (like this one (a space-time paradox)) were carried in it; and my white cap with 'birdbrained' air brushed in sky blue. But what puzzled me was I knew this gang and the areas of River Oaks and Montrose inside the 610 loop were outside of their normal range. At this point I quickly and loudly identified their gang affiliation, "South West Cholos 13!!!". "Shit" I heard one of them say. They automatically paused for a second, and in that split, I decided to split, jumped into my SUV and readied to get (yes, it was an intentional rhyme, I am a rapper after all), and to their response, running and gunning. Oct. 2nd, 2010, 6:59 A.M., this was not going to be a good day for me, not a good day at all.

Uh-oh, there's some trouble a brewing. What's going to happen next? If you want to see, play the second chapter, "Track 2, Chases and Crashes, News Reports, and Second Chances".