[indent][b][u]January 1st, 6:04 PM
Madison Square Garden, New York City[/u][/b][/indent]

[color=orchid]“Broken horns, scattered feathers, cracked fangs, what’s it matter?”[/color] sang Karen as she danced across the stage in a series of fluid yet powerful motions, her own style of self-taught freestyle.

She reached a hand out towards the seats immediately in front of her stage, staring into the eyes of each terran in the front row, regardless of their species. [color=orchid]”Your fur is wet, with bones that ache, they’re waiting for your will to break.”[/color]

Spinning on her heel, her dance continued, her movements become wilder, even wrathful. Sharp, aggressive stomps and harsh cuts through the air with her hands served to emphasize the anger pouring from the lyrics.

[color=orchid]“A cold laugh pierces your ear, just give in, surrender to fear! You’re just a Demon, just a Mage, just a Monster, you can’t cry for help. No one will see your Blood-Stained Pelt!”[/color]

Karen could feel her heart pounding against her chest as she neared the end of her first song. Blood-Stained Pelt was easily one of the darkest, and certainly the [i]angriest[/i] song she had ever written. It had been born of the disgust she had felt whenever another terracide had been ignored because the victim hadn’t been human.

[color=orchid]“Don’t let them win, fight back the pain, listen to the fire burning in your veins! You’re just a Demon, just a Mage, just a Monster, you don’t need their help! We’ll make them see your Blood-Stained Pelt!”[/color]

A final scream from the guitar behind her extinguished the lights as she fell into a crouch. As the music went silent, the bone rattling cheers of the crowd once again swept over the stage unopposed.

Breathing heavily, Karen subtly grinned. That was one song down, with eleven more to go—not counting for encores.

Her one thousand guests in the front row roared, screeched, and barked their approval at her performance, and she slowly stood to offer them her warmest smile. They all looked so very different from the rest of the people in attendance, and from each other, even. But on none of their faces did she see malice or cruelty.

[color=orchid]“You know, even if they don’t see you, I do!”[/color] said Karen in between shallow pants. [color=orchid]“And anyone who believes in my music sees you too! Who here believes?”[/color]

The arena trembled with the crowd’s affirmation. Karen allowed their cheer to linger unopposed for several moments in other to fully regain her breath. She would need it. No amount of cardio would let you dance your heart out for five minutes straight without being at least a little winded.

[color=orchid]“Then show me! Throw your hands in the air!”[/color]

The beat of the drums behind her heralded the start of “Tear Through the Doubt”, a decidedly more upbeat song than the last about finding the courage to not bow down to sorrow and oppression.

And so she continued to work her way through her latest album. One song after another was completed, with her taking an occasional intermission to have a glass of water and freshen herself up. Before she had even realized it, Karen was already on the tenth song of the night, the one immediately preceding the album’s titular “Fighting the Hate”, which she usually saved for last at live performances.

It must have been past seven-thirty by that point, easily.

[color=orchid]“Guess there’s no sense putting it off any longer,”[/color] said Karen, offering a wry smile to Jones as she sat backstage sipping from her water jug. [color=orchid]“Just two more songs, and I can crash for the rest of the night.”[/color]

Just two...but the first of those had been mandated by Sterling Records as a part of the “new look” they were pushing for her. 

Originally, the company had presented her with a song they had written—the only one she hadn’t composed herself since her professional debut. There was no substance in it, no message, it was sleaze. She wasn’t even certain how they had planned to show it on any mainstream site. They referred to the idea behind it as being “shock therapy” for her fanbase.

She rejected it out of hand with some very choice words, and made it clear that while they might own her name and image, they weren’t going to own her beliefs or message. After a lot of back and forth arguing between them, Sterling Records finally agreed to a compromise. That was when Karen wrote “Work Your Fur”, a song that sought to prove that all terrans were desirable in their own unique ways.

Exhaling sharply, she stood from her seat and offered a quick wink to Jones over her shoulder. [color=orchid]“Seems like the night was a success, huh? Not even a thrown bottle.”[/color]

[color=orchid]“See you after the show!”[/color]

Stepping out onto the stage amid the bright lights, she raised her hands to greet the crowd for the last time tonight. Her usual backup dancers had been partially replaced with a rather distinct group consisting of three harpies, a female minotaur, and a couple of rakshasa.

[color=orchid]“Hey! Who out there’s got a tail?”[/color] asked Karen.

A number of enthusiastic roars and barks rose from the one thousand seats before her, with several long and slender tails whipping about in excitement.

[color=orchid]“How about tail [i]feathers[/i]? Or fur?”[/color]

Screeches and lower growls were this time her response. Several very large and hairy terrans of various species stood proudly from their seats, while a dozen harpies eagerly squawked.

[color=orchid]“And who knows how to [i]work[/i] what they’ve got?”[/color] asked Karen, her lips parting into a grin, the whole arena now on their feet. [color=orchid]”Then show me how you work that tail! Show me how you work those feathers! Show me how you [i]Work That Fur!”[/i][/color]

Like a massive heart at the center of the arena, a hard and rhythmic beat swept over the crowd, who could doubtlessly feel it in their feet. It was a sound not typically associated with Karen, more Hip-Hop than rock or R&B.

[hr]

[b]7:36, Madison Square Garden[/b]

“K-Karen…” panted [url=https://pbs.twimg.com/media/DRwvjPOVoAAcWan.jpg]Timothy Vanz[/url], staring at the distant idol from his seat, which was about as close to the stage as non-monsters and mages could be. It wasn’t fair that they got to be closer to her.

His breaths came out wet and sickly. His nerves burned like his blood had been replaced with magma. He didn’t care.

[color=orchid]”You hear some say that fur can’t twerk, but fuck that shit, we’ll make it work! Scales, feathers, tails, and fur, you can shake it with the best of us, that’s fo sho!”[/color]

Timothy stretched one hand out towards her, even as the other clutched at his heart in a futile effort to suppress the sharp lances piercing through it with every beat it forced out. Coppery drool fell from his lips as he watched her every movement with his bloodshot eyes.

The pain meant nothing to him. It was a gift. He had been given power by them, and all they wanted in exchange was for him to claim what was rightfully his when the time arrived. Said time was to be during her last song, “Fighting the Hate”...but the wait was maddening when all he could do was watch her.

The subtle ripple of her bronzen thighs as she danced across the stage throughout the night had been tortuous enough, but with this song it was ten times worse. Twerking...it was like she was beckoning to him with every clap. She wanted him as much as he did her.

“Grrr…I...c-can’t…” he snarled, squeezing his chest tighter. The symbols that had etched across his body felt like they were going to melt straight through him. It had proven a welcomed distraction from his own desire. But it wasn’t enough anymore. “...c-can’t take it…!”

Timothy shot from his seat, unleashing a scream that easily rose above surrounding cheers. “KAREN!””

With a massive leap, he easily cleared the distance between his chair and the stage—a good twenty feet at least. His metagene gave him the ability to leap up to twenty-five feet, but was otherwise rather unimpressive, just like he was.

[i]Was.[/i]

Starting towards Karen, his eyes began to glow with a crimson hunger.

[color=orchid]“W-what are you doing?”[/color] she asked, backing away. [color=orchid]“Stay back!”[/color]

He had only just managed to make out what she had said in his haze. It didn’t matter. She would be his, they couldn’t stop him. She couldn’t stop him...he would make her understand that they were meant to be together.

“Ugh…?!”

He felt a strong arm wrap around his throat, his left arm being forcefully pulled behind his back as a large security guard tried to throw him to the ground. But he would not move. This man was nothing to him—nothing but another obstacle between him and his Karen.

“GET OFF OF ME!” he screamed, a pulse of crimson Chaos magic expanding from his center to blast the security guard back into the half-dozen men who were right behind him, the guard’s flesh now marred with sickening burns. His cries of pain forced a smile from Timothy.

Good. That’s what he deserved for trying to keep them apart.

Stalking towards Karen again, who had started towards the backstage, he reared back for a powerful leap. He would seize her, and then flee the arena quickly.