"Meet; Mischa Bachinski," Karnak boomed, gesturing to Mischa who pushed down the lever that would show pictures from his background. "Born August 18th, Leo: sign of aggression."

As the pictures were rolled across the screens, you couldn't help but croon in adoration at the pictures of baby Mischa. (seriously thought) Ocean, who stood beside you, gave you a look of disgust to which you glowered in reply.

"Favorite ride: the shooting gallery. Mischa was conceived in a little town outside

Odessa in the Ukraine by a factory worker named Tamara. His mother, after

being part of the clean up crew in Chernobyl, was dying of prolonged exposure

to Uranium. Wanting her son to be safe, she decided to put him up for

adoption—forging his birth certificate, she claimed he was two years old, and

was recently potty trained. When Mischa came to Canada, his adoptive parents

were surprised to see their toddler had five o'clock shadow, and a slight trace of

alcohol on his breath. They put him in the basement and his adoptive mother

would prepare food and leave it for him on the top of the stairs. On the rare

occasion he would run into his new parents—the mother would weep, and the

father would shoo him away like a horsefly. So began an inexhaustible rage. He

turned to the last bastion of pure strength and masculinity in society: self-

Aggrandizing commercialized Hip-Hop. This is how Mischa became: the Angriest boy in town."

As Karnak monologued more and more about Mischa's background, you felt your heart breaking more and more. You held a hand to your chest as you witnessed the screen show Tamara bidding his son goodbye for the last time of her life.

Mischa loved his mother, and you were furious that he was forced away from his only family because of a nuclear accident. You were rarely mad, usually filled with happiness and calmness, but now you felt your heart surging in your chest and painfully pushing against your ribcage.

You didn't like being mad.

It seemed you had zoned out, and Mischa was beginning his song. From what you picked up, when he was mad he rapped about money...in autotune. And that's what he was doing now, as music began to play.

You found yourself slipping on sunglasses with the rest of the choir, stepping out as Mischa began to sing. His accent ran thick as he did so, putting his hat on backwards and slipping on a golden chain around his neck.

I am the money!

What you is, is what you got

And I am the money!

You then felt yourself stepping up, pressing your back to Mischa's side with a sly smile as you gestured to him.

Take a look baby, he's the real ka-ching!

Lounging with my homies, Friday night scene!

Ho!

The Playstation's up on my 60-inch screen!

Mcnuggets in the bag, crystal's on tap

New toothbrush from Tiffany's still in the bubble wrap!

Track lights are glowing like sciences

Sparkling all over my stainless steel appliances!

I'm shining like Midas

I'm the king of Ka-ching!

Everything I touch goes bling bling bling!

Woah!

My life is awesome, this beat is awesome!

Ricky and you then stepped up together, Ricky up first. Mischa held out the microphone to the once mute boy as he did a little robot dance. It was honestly adorable.

Robot's are awesome!

Take a look baby he's the real ka-ching!

And I'll say it again; My life is awesome, this hook is awesome!

Robot's are awesome!

A piano...or keyboard played in the background as Mischa shifted his hat so he was wearing it sideways, breathing heavily. You could tell he was full of rage, but when you looked deeper into his amber eyes, you saw the sorrow that was hidden underneath.

Now I'm rolling in the civvie with the pumped up bass!

Woah!

The blue lights glowing, the vipers on my face!

We pass around the chronic, we party all night

We start to get the munches so we stop for a bite

Cruise into the lot of the hard rock cafe

Here comes the hotties, here come the valet!

You and the girls, as well as Noel and Ricky all lined up, with Constance at the front and looking as Mischa with a cool expression.

Front of the line, we don't need ID

Your usual table, sir?

Yeah VIP!

Woah!

My life is awesome, this beat is awesome!

Robot's are awesome!

Take a look baby, he's the real ka-ching!

And I'll say it again; My life is awesome,

Autotune is awesome!

Ricky then stepped up once more, leaning in to Mischa's mic.

0 1 0 1 0 11

Mischa then stepped forward, taking off his golden chain and tossing it to you. To which you caught it, slinging it on your own neck. The Ukrainian bad boy then tore his button up shirt open as he had taken off the sweater earlier, showing off everyone you weren't sure if you wanted to see or not.

As he began to sang, everyone got beside him. Ricky and Noel grabbed the ends of his shirt and waved it around. Ocean kneeled before him with a fan that wasn't even powered on. Constance and Jane stood on either side of him, while you also kneeled before him and threw up dollar bills that had Karnak's face on it.

It's time to start the party

But there ain't no party here yet!

So we take a ride in my brand new learjet!

Feeling homesick from my homies in the Ukraine

Landing in Kiev before we finish off the champagne

Roll to the club where the rich kids go!

Them Eurotrash bitches are checking out my flow

All kings of hotties, from all around the world

But then I feel a pair of eyes, and I see this girllllll

The beat slowly came to an end, and you and the rest of the choir all posed around Mischa as he finished off his last note.

Short-ayyy

You got back into your own consciousness, and you noticed the way you were posing. Hips cocked to the side with your hand pulling up your skirt. You were quick to drop it and take off the sunglasses, setting them aside before looking back to Mischa.

This was not the song Mischa deserved to sing, it was not the way he truly felt and you know it. You whipped around to Karnak, stepping up to the little platform before him. No one noticed, too busy focusing on Mischa.

"I demand Mischa gets another chance to sing," you ordered, your tone commanding. "What he sang just now does not count towards his final vote."

Karnak slowly turned to you, and you glared down at him in response. Your voice had caught the attention of the rest of the choir, who all looked at you in shock. Just like you had thought before, you were rarely angry.

"I'm afraid I cannot do that," he said slowly, to which you clenched your fists.

"Then I'll sacrifice my own performance," you protested, looking back to the choir for a moment. "Just let him perform again."

The fortune-telling machine seemed surprised, but did not object to your sacrifice. "Very well,"

"Y/n L/n is giving up her position to perform for Mischa Bachinski."

Ocean looked flabbergasted, as did Constance. You were going to give up your chance of proving that you deserved to be picked to someone else who already had their chance? Yes, yes you were.

Mischa looked like he didn't know what to feel, his amber gaze boring into your own. You slowly stepped down from Karnak, craning your neck to meet eye-contact with the Ukrainian.

"Y/n-" before Mischa could make any kind of sound you shushed him, firming your gaze.

You slowly stepped forward, grabbing one of his hands and holding it in your own. His hands were veiny, and large compared to your own hands. His palms were rough, and calloused. But it felt nice against your skin.

Good lord, how touch-starved were you?

"You deserve it," you told him, giving Mischa a gentle gaze. "Tell them how you really feel, and who you really are."

Without another word, you slipped away, moving past the rest of the choir and into the back. You then sat down, resting your hands into your lap. Mischa continued to stare at you, stunned.

You gave a nod, gesturing for him to go on. You knew he had so much else to say, and if you had to give up your chance at life again so he could speak his heart, you would do it a million times over.

Though you never got too close to Mischa while you were alive, that did not change your feelings for him. Underneath his gangster persona there was a man of words and love that was hidden away by the fear of being hurt again. You would personally make sure he never felt that way again.

"A moment," he said, finally letting himself soften. "I am vulnerable now."

He then got onto his phone, giving the choir time to join you on the sidelines. He brought up a girl who you did not recognize, and he told you guys that she was the former prime minister of Ukraine. Then, he swiped his phone to a picture of a girl.

You wanted to say she was beautiful, but her face was blurry. You couldn't tell who she was, but you guessed this was Talia. The woman who Mischa loved, but couldn't reach. You wanted to be jealous, but your sympathy overwhelmed it.

"My love: Natalia Murushka... Bolinska."