The show was over, and it had been a smashing success. 

Jameson strode to his changing room in a happy haze, brimming with excitement from the performance. Everything had gone so perfectly, and the audience had been quite enthusiastic. He found it so much easier to perform for an excitable crowd. 

Jameson loosened his bow tie as he opened the changing room door. It was nearly eleven at night now; he wanted to go home and sleep, maybe dream up some new melodies or fancy dance steps. Or lyrics to his next big song. He sighed and tossed his tie on a chair before striding over to the window and looking out over London's night lights. Singing was his forte, so to speak. To hear him talk, one wouldn't expect to hear a golden tone from Jameson. His speaking voice was high and excitable, sounded British, and landed on the ears about as gently as a swing from a baseball bat. 

But singing, well, Jameson lacked no gifts there. While singing, his voice soared over the crowd and lost its coarse edges. It became full and rich, like dark melted chocolate. There was a reason they called him a triple-threat.

Jameson tapped his metal-toed shoes with a giddy grin. He'd been performing almost nightly in a small theatre downtown for a few weeks, and couldn't be happier. Not only did it pay the bills and then some, but it meant constant contact with his fans, constant feedback, and the opportunity to do what he loved each and every night! And what more could a dapper boy want? 

He sighed and his feet fell still as he stared blissfully through the open window. The city noises seemed to fall into a restless harmony. Jameson himself began to hum a few bars of Rhapsody in Blue, but was cut off by the gentle cough of someone else in the dressing room. 

Jameson spun around, startled. "Anti!" he exclaimed, his face splitting into a wide grin. "Jumping Jehoshaphat- I didn't expect to see you here!"

Anti smiled warmly. He was wearing black jeans and a dark vest, with a heather grey scarf wrapped neatly around his shoulders. "Hey, I wouldn't miss a show of yours, JJ," he said, in a voice even stranger than Jameson's. Anti's voice was like sandpaper and paring knives- coarse and cutting all at once. Its tone fluctuated from syllable to syllable, spanning octaves of notes in a few seconds. His fascinating speaking range had caused Jameson to often encourage Anti to try singing, to Anti's vehement opposition. 

"I perform every single night," Jameson laughed with a kind smile. "You can't possibly see them all."

Anti shrugged. "Sure I can. We're friends, right? That's what friends do. Support each other..." 

Jameson began to wiggle off his dance shoes as Anti walked over to Jameson's laptop on the dressing table. With a curious tilt of the head, he opened up the screen. 

"Jacksepticeye," Anti muttered, seeing the YouTuber's channel appear. "You were watching him?"

"I watched a few videos before the show. He's not as bad as you tell me," Jameson laughed. "Kind of funny, really. Why, I met him at a show a couple of nights ago."

"You met him?" Anti twitched. For a moment, it seemed that he was reaching with curled fingers toward Jameson, as if to grab him. But the moment passed, and Anti's composure returned. 

"Yes," Jameson replied cheerfully. Finally, the tap shoe came off his foot with a thud. It slipped through Jameson's fingers and bounced off a nearby wall. He gave an exaggerated flinch before turning back to Anti. "Why do you ask?"

Anti turned away. "Jack is a dangerous man, JJ. You need to stay away from him, you understand me?"

"What?" Jameson asked, smiling confusedly. 

Anti sighed once more. There was a strange noise, like the squeak of an electronic instrument, as he rolled his head on his shoulders, cracking his neck. "You remember what I told you about Schneeplestein, right? And Chase Brody, and Jackieboy Man, and Marvin?" 

"That they are similar to us, but not identical?" Jameson offered. "That we're... connected? What does that have to with Jack?" Jameson gasped excitedly. "Is Jack one of us, too?"

Anti frowned, grinding his teeth together. "No, JJ. Jacksepticeye is not like us. But just like I told you you can't trust the others, you can't trust Jacksepticeye either."

For the first time, Jameson was quiet. 

"You understand me, JJ? I just want to keep you safe," Anti smiled kindly, but it looked almost painful for him. 

"Sure," Jameson said meekly. "I understand, Anti."

"But, hey, I've got good news, too," Anti added quickly, his forced smile taking on a genuine and sinister edge. "Mm? I'm going to get rid of Jack for us."

Jameson looked somewhat taken aback. "R-really?"

"Mmhm," Anti tilted his head. "I can get him and Schneeplestein in one afternoon if I plan it right. Just think- this time in August, we'll be rid of them both."

Jameson's conscience was discomforted, but he appreciated what Anti was risking for him. After all, they were friends. Jameson trusted him. 

Jameson smiled delicately. "Well, that's great."

Anti cast a suspicious look at him. "You won't tell anyone, right? You're taking this to the grave, you understand me? Promise you won't tell anyone."

"Of course," Jameson reassured his friend. "Of course, Anti. I promise."