Halfway through the convention, and the questions are pouring in, from how they got their channel names to the never ending Septiplier love.
Everyone's laughing, fan girls screaming, and they were just goofing around on stage, just like any other convention.
"I'm sorry, is this a bad time?"
That menacing voice returns, causing everyone on the panel to turn to where it came from ... Jack.
Once again, Jack's head begins to spin, and a stabbing pain rips through his skull. He begins to cough endlessly. He can feel something crawling up his throat, thick and warm, like hot tar being spread on the roof of his mouth.
"Hey Jack! Are you alright?" One fan calls out. Suddenly, all the fans are crying out as Jack stands up, bends over, and coughs almost to the point of throwing up. Mark runs over and takes him off stage to the private bathroom away from prying eyes.
"Jack! What's going on?" Mark asks, as Jack threw up all over the bathroom floor. He collapses onto Mark's body. Jack starts a sequence of blood curdling screams, as he begins so slide down towards the floor where he curls up into a ball, clutching his head. Something's not right.
"Get out of my head!" Jack cries, inches away from paralyzed Mark, unsure what to do, eyes wide and frozen.
"What's the matter? You scared you'll end up like your friend? A monster?"
"No! He's not a monster!" Jack grips his hair so tight it starts to cone out in his hands. He hears his ears pop and blood begins to stream from them, painting the floor red. His breathing was rapid and out of control. What if he was becoming a monster? No, he couldn't ...
"Well, if he's not a monster, I wonder what that will make you."