"So, you say you wanna date Karma...

What can I say but just:

Bye bye 'n don't let tha door hit ya

You musta been livin under a rock

coz you never heard Karma's a bitch.

From under a rock to findin anotha rock

to hit yo head wit.

I just got one question fo ya

... This yo final final answer?

It's no return no 'xchange round here. It don' matter

if damaged goods be what you're after."

Hoots of laughter from the crowd.

"Are you fo sure fo sure?

You look asthmatic, fur-allergic

– you got yo inhaler in yo purse?

From wheez-wheez-wheezing outta tha crib

Tuh crawl-crawl-crawlin down tuh da grave

... dat you yaself dig..."

Robin complements his performance with gestures. Giggles from the girls in the audience and an air horn sound effect from the DJ.

Karma's shaking. It's only Alex's hand on hers that's holding her together. They did know something like this was going to happen, and she knew it longer. Breaking up with Robin was equivalent to social suicide. He's varsity, a UAAP celebrity, a frat boy and a pro rapper. He has tens of thousands of followers on Insta and YouTube, where he regularly uploads his battle rap vids.

"You got a weak constitution dat defies comprehension

Yo lungs 'n Karma's sheddin hair

They gonna be a lethal combination.

You be retch-retch-retchin a hairball

stuck down yo throat tha next mornin

From Karma's head 'n legs when she ain't waxin."

Not knowing what else to tell Karma to make her feel better, Alex bluffs: "Don't worry. We're going to beat him at his own game."

"How?" she asks and, as she turns to him, her tears finally spill down her face and a sob escapes her bee-stung lips. "He's a pro rapper."

Alex shrugs and keeps up the lie: "I know a thing or two about rap too."

"What do you know?" she demands, her voice broken in so many places and made cruel by panic.

"I did freestyle on street corners when I was a kid."

She snorts a laugh through her running nose as she fishes in her bag for some Kleenex.

"I'b dorry," she says in between sniffles and blows her nose. "I hate this. Always being scared of Robin. Being compared to other girls and, deep down, still wanting desperately to be the perfect girlfriend for him..."

"But fo real, I should give props tuh how fast

you got into dem harem pants

You must be sum kind o' ninja rabbit who goes fast

... but also cums fast.

You two are so perfect you fill each other's purpose

Karma o'er there's a cross 'tween a sloth 'n a porpoise

You gonna be late fo everywhere 'n she's still puttin on makeup.

'N it's authentic hashtag NoMakeup

in tha mornin' when you wake up.

Listen up, boi, remember tha monstah 'neath yo bed?

You just invited it tuh sleep 'n drool on yo chest."

The Cage Dawgz are nodding and leering while a few girls in the audience look at each other uncertainly.

"I'm being yelled at and publicly humiliated," Karma's telling Alex, "but a part of me still tries to justify the humiliation. I keep telling myself that I deserve... everything. I hate this feeling... like being trapped but not having any way out... always caring about the perfect image of us as a couple..."

Alex squeezes her hand.

"You're not trapped anymore," he says. "I'm your way out. You're almost there, Karma. You've just got to trust me on this."

She sniffles with her head bowed.

"Do you trust me?" he asks her.

She lifts her head to look at him, and nods.

"But out o' all these things prepare yaself fo tha worst:

Karma ain't got maternal instincts, she's like a crippled horse.

Dat's sum Millenial Infernal Itty-Mental mentality.

What kind o' woman don't wanna have a baby?

Dear Lord, it's me, Robin

I'm down on ma knee

Please forgive ma eye rovin"

Robin, who has knelt down, now abruptly jumps back to his feet.

"Facts: when Judgment Day come at us all

I'ma stand tall

in front o' tha Lord Almighty.

If I keep lookin tastin samplin diff'rent cookin,

why, none o' you have got tha right tuh blame me

Don't any o' y'all dare tuh judge me."

Deafening applause and whoops especially from the male and hardcore hip hop members of the audience.

"Everything's gonna be okay from now on," Alex promises in Karma's ear.

Then, he lets go of her hand, rises and starts walking to the stage.

"What have we got here?" Robin jeers into the mic.

"Anotha battle rapper," Alex announces. "Why? You scared o' a lil competition?"

Robin laughs; a real one.

"You must be a glutton fo humiliation," he says. Then: "Oh, dat's a good one. I better write dat down."

"Yeah, dat's yo MO, ain't it? You're just spittin tha same tired, old bars you jot down 'n memorize. Don't you got anythin new?"

"Ohhh," comes the reaction from the crowd. One thing Alex is counting on: an audience is impartial and impressionable.

"You talk a big game," Robin replies, still holding the mic. "I bet you got a tiny dick."

Laughter and taunts from the audience. Alex has finally climbed the stage via the apron. He shrugs off the diss as he stands in the lights.

"Everybody knows you tha biggest dick round here. Now, are you gonna give me tha mic or what?"

"Give him the mic! Give him the mic!" someone from the back starts and the chant is picked up until it becomes a roar.

Robin reluctantly gives in and slaps the mic onto Alex's chest, producing a high-pitched squeal that grates on the ears of everyone in the club.

"What did I tell ya?" Alex says to the mic. Then, pointing an open-palm hand to Robin who flashes the finger at him, he announces: "A dick."

Most of the audience laugh while the hardcore fans of Robin and the Cage Dawgz try to boo him off the stage.

Now, stage fright is coming in waves as Alex surveys the whole club behind his stunner sunglasses. The random clubbers, who don't have anything at stake in this showdown, are looking at him hungrily. They've gotten a taste of the free performance from Robin so they want more, and they've whipped out their recording phones. The true hip-hoppers are casting a skeptical, if not evil, eye on him while Robin's cohorts and fan base are just waiting for him to slip up. Or freeze up.

Alex searches for Karma through the hot glare of the lights. She has risen from her seat and squeezed her way through the crowd gathered in front of the stage. Her hands are on her chest and her eyes are as wide as saucers. Alex knows exactly how she's feeling because his own knees are rattling inside his baggy jeans.

"Yo," he breathes into the mic to buy time.

His mind's about to go blank. Every note he's written inside the van is flying out of his consciousness.

The Cage Dawgz intensify their booing and then follow their leader who's on the side of the stage, in front of the DJ, as he starts chanting: "Choke! Choke! Choke!"

The shouts are accompanied by either a fist pumping in the air or a knifehand slicing in front of the jugular.

"Lemme tell y'all somethin..." Alex starts, still to buy time, still to get on the flow – whatever it is.

Whatever needs to happen, he thinks to himself, it needs to happen right now.

"I gotta say, Robin, tha nickname A-Dwag suits you

Coz when you said you were gonna be tha bigger man

Man, you sucked at bein a man – you a wolf!"

The randos wait with bated breath while the hip-hoppers have meh written on their faces. It's probably because Alex sounds like he's already conceding when, in battle rap, you're not supposed to give anyone any quarter.

"You're great at fine whinin 'n denyin

You're nastier than Two-Face 'n Dr. Jerk-ill

... when he's hidin Hyde in!"

The crowd reacts uncertainly; a sign that Alex's writtens are flying over their heads. He needs to make some adjustments...

"You said you were gonna show tha Gentleman You

Turns out, you showed everybody tha Despicable You.

If you're Gru, then are these yo minions?

These yellow-belly bananas with perfect fashion coordination?"

He makes a sweeping gesture at Robin's gang members, who are quick to flash him the finger and hurl insults. Scattered giggles in the audience. Every Cage Dawg is scowling.

"Tha DJ sits there quietly 'n ponders

Are they gangstas or backup dancers?

From Minions tuh Cage Dawgz

It took just two snips

You ditched dem straps

'N rode yo overalls down down

all tha way down yo butt crack

24/7 booty call fo' tha cellmate

Yeah, prison got you hard

You forgot it's all just roleplay

Of course none o' you ever saw tha inside o' jail

Tha closest to jail you know be tha Red Room

where Anastasia Steele comes tuh play

You come in yellow 'n you come out fifty..."

"Shades of Grey!" the women in the crowd finish Alex's sentence, roaring in delight.

No one expected he could rap – not Robin, who's probably doubting his choice of battleground right now; not Karma, whose eyes are shining; and not even Alex, who's only experience is freestyle rap in his childhood and the movie Bodied hastily watched last night.

"Yeah, they look like bananas but they eat bananas.

That's sum gender confusion.

Cannibalism. Neo-Nazism.

Let dis be a lesson on dissin.

I still prefer the original Despicable Me,

' Least Gru wears his chrome dome proudly

Not hidin it 'neath a whole lotta do-rags 'n stocking caps

... like dis shaved pussy."

Alex points at Robin's dark face, which is sending him If-looks-could-kill vibes. Where she's standing, Karma bursts out laughing along with the rest of the audience in an ever widening radius around her.

"You call yaselves Cage Dawgz but I know

you puppies, yuppies, preppies.

You say you from tha streets

but you study in Enderun U...

Opps, that's private!

You as green as mommy's money

Y'all pay 6-digit matriculation

fo yo gansta masturbation

Do us all a favor why doncha?

Quit actin what you ain't

coz we all know y'all got motherfuckin maids

Nah, nah, wait, hold up

Yo daddy's fuckin yo maid 'n yo mommy's fuckin yo chauffeur.

So yeah, I'ma turn a blind eye 'n apply fo a menage-a-four!"

Deafening howls of laughter and applause from 90% of the people in the club, including the bouncers, all the servers and bartenders; even the DJ, who was supposed to be on the Cage Dawgz's side.

Alex can feel the adrenalin coursing through his veins and he decides then and there that he loves the feeling. He's running purely on the stuff now. He's merely following his instincts. He's like a creeping brain-mouth creature with absolutely zero filter.

" 'N what bout his rap name Rumpelstiltskin?

I don't get it. Is dat really from Rob 'N Steal King?

Nah, dat can't be it coz tha only thing he be straight-up hustlin

Is Daddy's credit card PIN 'n Mommy's Netflix login.

Oh I know! He's Rumpelstiltskin coz he's tha best

at poundin flesh 'n then takin his pound o' flesh.

His dream's tuh be a Daddy 'n have Rumpel Junior

But he been at it fo years he got quadruple juniors.

They be all firstborn kids. He don like no second ones

Dis guy's MO be hit-and-run

He'd spray his seed wit his short Uzi

Like a drive-by from a blacked-out van

Wit no clear window or number plate

Just tha mixed-up names o' all his streetwalkin babes:

Karen, Tasha, Nina 'n April...

Bianca, Chelsey, Trixie, Sam 'n Angel."

Alex counts the names on his fingers. The names of Robin's actual side chicks. They make the audience go wild and the faces of Robin and the Cage Dawgz go murderously dark. In her cramped corner, Karma's crying full-on rivers of joyful tears.

Alex walks over the side of the stage and stands too close for comfort, in Robin's face, as he delivers the next lines.

"Fo real tho, homies, I prefer his handle Robin...

Coz if you tha Boy Wonder

I'll be Daddy Dark Knight

I'ma bitch-smack you like in tha meme.

Or I'll be tha Joker

I'll body you like I'm a meat tenderizer

I'll hit you wit puns 'n lines so fast yo head will spin

Like you in tha Exorcist

Then I'll vandalize yo corpse wit a billet-doux fo Batman

The Joke's on ya

– yo short Dick is Gray... son!"

The DJ actually blares the air horn FX at this, to Robin's annoyance. More enthusiastic cheers from the crowd.

"Fo real fo real...

Heavy is tha head dat wears tha crown

Yo best bet is tuh win sum 'n lose sum

So, Robin, go ahead 'n lay all tha eggs you want

You know I can't be makin no FlipTop overeasy

Without breakin sum bad ones.

Tha yolk's on you

– Here let me wipe sum off you, man!"

As Alex facetiously wipes an invisible discharge from Robin's nose, the gangster slaps his hand away. The audience roars in laughter.

"Tuh top it off, you wanna know whutz mindblowin?

It's dis dude's real name. It's Christopher Robin

I swear I'm nah even messin!

So fo you, sweet sweet Christopher

I'll be yo BFF Winnie tha Poo.

In case it's still nah clear, let me spell it out fo you:

You a kid who likes tuh have tea time wit his 'maginary friend..."

Alex tips an invisible cup to his lips, complete with the erect pinkie of aristocrats.

"Walkin round wit no pants on, I'm tha shady bear

You do tha math: You think I be wipin?

Tha Poo's on ya

– dat ain't honey you're sippin!"

The crowd erupts in riotous jubilation.

****

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