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[indent][b][u]January 1st, 5:07 PM
Madison Square Garden, New York City[/u][/b][/indent]

“...no suspect has yet to be identified, but the victim’s girlfriend indicated that Morena had left to purchase medication for her heart condition, medicine which could not be obtained within Pricetown.”

Karen sighed, closing out of the video. Placing her phone down on the vanity set of her [url=https://i.imgur.com/AB1S4hq.jpg]dressing room[/url], she stared at her reflection with a knowing disappointment. It wasn’t that long before the concert was to start, and she hadn’t even touched the outfit they’d given her. Her lip gloss and eyeliner likewise remained unused.

It was awfully difficult to focus on beautification, however, knowing that there had been yet another terracide not terribly far from where she was sitting now. One that had only been reported online, outside of mainstream sources. None of the major news networks would have ever bothered covering it, or any terran death that didn’t involve human casualties. A large portion of human society simply didn’t wish to know, so that they could ignore the suffering of these so-called “monsters”.

But that wasn’t how everyone felt, thankfully.

Her eyes darted to the multi-platinum award sitting on her dresser against the far wall—[url=https://i.imgur.com/PnBMN7d.jpg]a silver record with three compact disks beneath it.[/url] Between the cover of her latest album and the logo of the Worldwide Music Awards was a plaque reading “Certified Sales Multi-Platinum Award — Presented to Karen Juana Hernandez to recognize the sales of the Sterling Records album ‘Fighting the Hate’”.

She smiled, feeling a warmth pool within her chest at the knowledge that her pro-terran message had struck a chord with so many people, human or otherwise.

[color=orchid]“Right, focus!”[/color] she said, smacking her cheeks firmly.

Standing from her seat, she approached the outfit hanging from a hook beside her dresser. She barely even wrinkled her nose this time as she reached down to lift her shirt— 

“Are you kidding me?”

Karen flinched, immediately recognizing the voice outside her door as Dean Bertram, her tour manager.

“I’m her fucking Tour Manager! Let me through the damn door!”

Lowering her grey t-shirt, she reached down to retrieve her black sweatpants. Making her way to the door, she turned the knob and opened it to see a red-faced Dean fuming at her bodyguard.

[color=orchid]“It’s okay, Jones,”[/color] said Karen, unable to keep from smiling at the sight of her [url=https://i.imgur.com/cXPQaDf.jpg]Tour Manager’s[/url] tomato-colored complexion. [color=orchid]“You can let him through.”[/color]

Dean’s eyes widened at the sight of Karen, his anger shifting to a look of disbelief. “What the hell, Karen? Why haven’t you changed yet?”

[color=orchid]“Well, I was trying to.”[/color]

“People will expect you out there in less than an hour—no, in just over half that! What have you been doing all this time?”

Shooting the man a glare as they stepped inside, she folded her arms. [color=orchid]“I was watching the news, if you must know! Somebody was killed just outside of Pricetown this morning...”[/color]

Dean’s aggressive posture deflated only slightly. “I’m sorry to hear that, Karen, but we still have a show to put on. Over twenty thousand people are coming to see you perform tonight!”

[color=orchid]“I know that!”[/color] she said, her shoulders falling. [color=orchid]“I know…I just...”[/color]

“Look,” he said testily, “if you care so much about the m—non-humans, then go out there and blow their horns off by giving them the best show they’ve ever seen!”

Karen frowned at his near-slip up. [color=orchid]“Only a few terran species have horns, you know.”[/color]

“But you get what I mean,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “You’ve got a once in a lifetime opportunity here. Fighting the Hate is so close to the ten million mark that I can feel it in my fucking bones! Imagine it—the first Diamond-certified album since the Two Month War!”

She groaned, shaking her head. [color=orchid]“It’s not the sales themselves that matter, but what they represent.”[/color]

“Yeah, yeah, spreading hope to all little bulls and birdies. The effect’s still the same, isn’t it?”

[color=orchid]"¡Es un pendejo!"[/color] she snapped, balling her fists.

“Yeah, effin’ penny-ho to you too! Now hurry up and get your ass dressed!”

[color=orchid]“Chinga tu madre!”[/color] shouted Karen, glowering at him with enough intensity to burn a hole straight through the bald patch on the back of his retreating head. She returned to the outfit hanging in the corner as he slammed the door hard enough to make her mirror rattle.

[color=orchid]“Didn’t even get the chance to tell him how much I hate this [i]naco[/i] shit they’re putting me in these days, not that he would’ve cared.”[/color]

Sterling Records had been a little too excited when she’d reached adulthood. The music videos she had recorded since August were notably racier than anything she had ever done before, with more skin shown and more lingering shots taken. This, of course, impacted her live performances as she was expected to present a consistent tone.

She had to wonder if that man would have still rushed the stage if she had kept her original style? Certainly, she wouldn’t have had to endure all the angry letters from more conservative parents who felt like she had become a “negative influence” on their little girls.

Of course, it wasn’t like she was a prude or anything, she didn’t mind being sexy—but there was a time and place for it. She was here to spread an important message, but how were they going to hear it if they were too busy gawking at her legs or ass?

Finally undressing, she fought her way into an outfit that felt like it was intentionally a size too small.

Looking in the mirror, she sighed at the woman that stared back. The long-sleeved, shoulderless black top was tied at the middle, and honestly looked rather cute. She didn’t mind that part. She was less of a fan of the tiny jean shorts that were just a step above being a denim bikini bottom. The stiletto heels were perhaps the best evidence of all that somebody was trying to kill her, though she had gotten better at dancing in them as of late.

After applying a bit of eyeliner and lip balm, Karen was [url=https://i.imgur.com/KDJV3qa.jpg]ready[/url]—much as she ever would be, in any case.

This was her first time performing in Madison Square Garden, after all.

Heading back for the door, she opened it and offered a smile to her bodyguard, Jermaine “Jones” Morrison. [color=orchid]“It looks like it’s showtime.”[/color]