April 26, 2097: High Stakes in the Capital
Today was all about DC and its endless political games. Halo had a series of minor events lined up—interviews, handshakes, photo ops, you name it. She plays the role well, almost too well, in my opinion, but then again, she’s mastered this balancing act of public persona and private depth. I stayed behind for something a little more... delicate.
Meeting with Director Isabella Hawke in person is no small thing. She’s the Chairperson of the UCAS Central Intelligence Committee, basically the head of every integrated intelligence service in the UCAS. Elf woman, ageless, utterly professional, and sharp as a razor’s edge. Not someone you lie to, not someone you try to bluff.
The meeting? It was straightforward enough. She knows what we are—corporate tools masquerading under clean, bought-and-paid-for SINs. It doesn’t really matter if our IDs are polished to perfection; in her eyes, they’re not much better than fake ones. But that’s how the world works. Hawke didn’t need to ask why I was there. She already knew—the April 28 Gala Concert at the Jefferson Memorial, where we’ll be up close and personal with the president and half the power structure of the UCAS. She made it clear: we’d be under the tightest scrutiny, no room for error. If anything goes wrong at that gala, it won’t just be a problem for Halo—it’ll be the end for all of us.
April 27, 2097: The Arlington Concert – A Divided Reception
The Unification Arena in Arlington was packed tonight. Another performance from Halo, this time more sophisticated, a step away from the raw emotion of Edmonton. She’s good at reading the room, and DC wanted something else. It was a salute to the strength and ingenuity of the UCAS and Canada, a reminder of what both nations have built together, but there was this undercurrent. A warning, subtle but there—complacency can kill, and the world is still a dangerous place.
The reviews? Split right down the middle. Some critics said it was a triumph, calling it the best thing since ice cream. Others? Well, they labeled it a sell-out, a bland love letter to the corporate-government machine. Personally, I thought it was Halo being Halo—she can’t help but provoke, even when she’s playing it safe. Either way, public reception on the East Coast was overwhelmingly positive. And that's what counts.
Serj the Troll had his shot on stage and did well—better than anyone expected. Luna trended higher, but Serj held his own, and Mira? Well, she’s out. JJ quietly gave her the boot from the tour. Out of a sense of mercy, I suggested transferring her contract to Sterling Entertainment, a mid-tier East Coast agency we’ve just partnered with. Better than nothing, right? She wasn’t thrilled, but it’s better than being thrown out entirely. She’ll survive.
After the show, we laid low. The real test was coming.
April 28, 2097: Halo’s Gala Performance – A Night of Power and Poison
The Gala at the Jefferson Memorial was nothing like the public concerts. This was exclusive, a crowd of 200, including President Caroline Evans and her senator husband, Miles Travers, along with top-tier government, corporate, and foreign elites. No cameras, no streams—just raw influence in human form. Carla “Phoenix” St. James, last year’s VR darling, was there too, trailing behind Halo in the VR star rankings.
Halo’s performance tonight? It wasn’t just music—it was a masterclass in emotional and psychological manipulation. She peeled back the thin veneer of unity, exposing the rivalries, betrayals, and ambitions lurking beneath the surface of DC’s elite. Every note, every shift in tone, was designed to make the audience feel uneasy. People were moved, deeply touched, but also unsettled—with St. James looking aghast as if she just had the news of a loved one's death. It was the kind of art that makes you question who you are and where you stand.
The reactions were mixed, to say the least. Some were enthralled, others uncomfortable, and more than a few were outright rattled. The event ended with polite applause, but everyone in the room knew something bigger had just happened. Halo walked off the stage, not a flicker of doubt in her eyes. The night wasn’t recorded, but I’m sure some parts will leak—Washington can’t help itself.
Afterward, we kept our heads down. No one wanted to get caught up in the aftermath of whatever Halo stirred up. Tomorrow’s a rest day, and we’re going to need it.
April 29, 2097: The Day After
Today was quiet. Halo’s gone deep into herself again—cocoon mode. Vanya and the rest of us took the chance to breathe. We’ve got an early flight to Quebec coming up, and whatever’s waiting for us there is bound to be as intense as DC, just in a different way.
One thing’s for sure: this tour isn’t just music. It’s a chess game, and every stop is another move in a bigger, more dangerous game than we even realize.
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