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Chapter 22: Venus Slow Yo Roll!
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▍Following the signature theme song from the growing YouTube channel, the camera faded out and faded into the subsequent clip.
Now, all you can see is red. The screen remained in that particular color briefly until it proceeded backward, revealing itself as a shirt.
The male wearing the vibrant clothing stood a few feet away—focused solely on the lens, checking for signs of improper functioning and seeing if it was recording. He exhibited a swollen face, a black eye, a busted lip, and a round bump on his forehead.
In the background, there was a wide rug beneath a couch and large white curtains behind it that shielded large rectangular windows—a partial view of two black sofas facing each other displayed on opposite sides. Context clues indicate that the setting is in the living room.
Seven individuals sat on the plush, black, cushioned furniture. Three of them were men—who also had facial injuries. They had uncomfortable expressions. One of them produced light groans of displeasure.
The remaining four were women. Three of them attempted to console the wounded men and ease their pain by treating their different bruises with specific remedies to heal them.
The man standing upheld his thumb at the camera—assuming everything was set up correctly and ready to go. He limped over to join the others on the couch. His slim-fit frame carefully sat down at the end, sitting next to the pregnant woman.
After the intolerable noises ceased, the room grew quiet, thinking some form of conversation would begin immediately. Once it didn't, a mixture of puzzled and annoyed glances was delivered to the individual of interest.
Seeing the exchange of expressions towards him from his peripheral, Dalvin's throat cleared. "Wassssssup SnakeKillas!" The intro came out in a wincing tone, with less enthusiasm than usual.
K-Ci dramatically rolled his head onto the back of the couch and irritably exclaimed, "Awl, here we go with this shit!"
"Now, you all may be wondering," He began professionally in a voice similar to a narrator off those crime shows at the camera. "Why are we sitting here looking like we came from a Rodney King riot?" Dalvin's rubbed his chin as if he were in deep thought.
DeVantè gave the male a mean mug and mumbled, "It's yo fault." A hiss of discomfort was noised as the cotton ball containing a small amount of hydrogen peroxide touched the minor scratch underneath his eye, making him give the woman who administered the product a side-eye.
