Angela took a deep breath and stepped out onto the stage. The crowd, a thousand strong, roared. Not at her, of course, but at the face she was wearing. She picked up a bass guitar and slung it over her shoulder.

Guten Abend, New York!” Greta yelled beside her. “We are Dragonfire!”

The guitarist launched into a blistering solo that lasted half a minute before the drummer joined in. Angela backed it all up with a series of thundering riffs that drove the song forward. And from centre stage, Greta belted out the lyrics with her trademark intensity.

Sweat poured down Angela’s face and the stage lights blinded her. She played purely by muscle memory, absorbed from Jackie just before the show. It was a bit tricky to focus on the music and maintain Jackie’s appearance at the same time, but somehow she managed.

A full set and three encores later, the band departed to deafening applause. Angela followed Greta through the building to the dressing room upstairs. Inside, they found Jackie pacing back and forth impatiently. She was dressed casually—torn jeans and a band t-shirt—and had a compression wrap around her left wrist.

“You didn’t stay for the show?” Greta asked.

“It was too weird, watching myself play,” Jackie said, then glanced at Angela. “No offence.”

“None taken,” Angela said.