Susan let me use the print room at Morior Studios to produce the flyers for Ellen's Acting Academy, attracting the interest of Jess and Hannah, two women who worked in the office.

"'Classical repertoire?" read Jess. "Is that Shakespeare?"

"The whole history of theatrical text," I explained. "From the Greeks up to twentieth century classics. But we can do a lot with Shakespeare. Go deep into the icky stuff they leave out at school."
Hannah nodded and took a flyer from the top of the pile.

"We'll be there," she smiled.

I didn't expect my first sign-ups to go quite like that. Most people get burned out on the bard from compulsory school study and just want light improv from drama classes to live out their television fantasies. I put the classical bit on there as an afterthought, but was glad I did.

I took the first batch of flyers to Debs' dress agency and the café and shops next to it.

"Well done on Saturday," she said. "How's Hyacinth?"

"I believe that went as well as can be expected," I said in Hyacinth's haughty falsetto, before adding in my own voice, "seriously, though, where do they get all the weird stuff they use? Fake concrete, imitation melted candle wax, realistic fire..."

"Well, Morior is first and foremost a special effects studio," said Debs. "The fake fire I think they bought in, but the cement and candle wax are mixed by a couple that live near here called Craig and Rebecca. They're chemistry experts with a knack for mixing up any kind of substance you can think of, they used to make messy kink movies back in the day. When they arrived here and hit total recall I got them jobs at Morior as substance technicians. They're always looking for people to try stuff out on, if you ever want to get slimed."

"What were you telling me about the guy I went up against?"

"Len? He always plays to lose, he likes coming up with new avatars for each Masquerade then kills them off so he can start again. He has a notebook full of names he picks from at random, then throws together a costume."

"I noticed some similarities between how you and him played," I said. "Even though you were going for different outcomes."

"How so?"

"You were playing to win, but still wanted there to be some kind of challenge, a chance that it could have gone wrong for you. You were out to beat every one of the people you were playing with, but they had to look like they were in with a chance. It was like watching a cat hunting mice."

"You're not the first to make that comparison," said Debs. "You're correct, of course. But what about Len?"

"If he just wanted to kill off his avatar, he could have thrown the game from the outset, messed up every round on purpose. But instead he plotted it out, let me make the first mistake, then did just enough to keep the game going until the time was right for him to lose. I actually believed I was going to get gooped at one point, he forced me to play the game properly."

"And as a result of all that, he got a more exciting death scene and your character looked stronger in victory, so it will mean more when we finally dispose of her. Where's the fun in skipping straight to the end? You need to enjoy the journey."

"What if it went wrong? If you lost, or he won?"

"Then we adjust. You or I would've made new avatars and Len would have found some other way to kill the Blue Bandit."

"'The best laid schemes o' mice and men gang aft agley'," I recited.

Debs smiled. "Quite. That's what makes it like life."

I carried on flyering everywhere I could find around town; the central library, the shops and studios around the canal and, of course, Culture Collects. This time Kim was dressed up in a sailor girl outfit - apparently cosplaying was her passion and the shop's owner and customers liked the image of her wearing her creations to work. She looked over the flyers as I handed them over.

"Well, you can sign me up, along with my partner," she said. "We'll see if we can get some of the other Morior Kids to come along as well."

"The Morior Kids?"

"The group of us that play child parts when they need them for extras," explained Kim. "It's where Try and I met, because they tend to hire us all together we formed an unofficial club."

"Try is your partner?"

"That's right."

A woman approached the counter and began emptying her basket. She had blue dyed hair and thick framed glasses, purple lipstick and a strong athletic build. She was buying a couple of DVDs, some books and a selection of Mexican wrestling masks. She looked at me and smiled warmly.

"Hello, you!" she said. "Are you new around here?"

"Rafe is starting up some theatre classes," said Kim. "He's an actor and director that used to tour horror theatre productions, we have one of his old posters in the window. He came in to drop off some flyers."

"That does sound interesting," said the woman, taking a flyer and looking it over. "I'm Gillian, very nice to meet you."

She turned back to Kim, who was bagging up her purchases. "Are you and Try going?"

"Definitely," said Kim. "You?"

"Sure, I'm up for that," said Gillian. "Which poster did you say?"

"It's the one of the woman screaming, the one we were wondering about. Turns out it's his wife. She's the Ellen he named the acting school after."

Gillian looked impressed. "Guess I'll be seeing you, then," she said to me as she scanned her card and accepted the bag from Kim. "Kill you later, Hyacinth!"

Kim watched Gillian leave the shop.

"I won't ask why she called you that," she said.

"Does she buy a lot of masks?"

"I think she collects them. Why do you ask?"

"No reason."

---

So now I had five prospective students, at least four of them women (I was yet to meet Try, Kim's partner). I hoped we could get some men along to balance out the class, but it was a good start. I took my last remaining flyers back to the studio to leave with Davis on the front desk.

"All good to go, then," he said. "Any customers yet?"

"A few," I told him. "We could do with a few more guys, though."

He told me he'd get word around. I thanked him and headed off upstairs.

The studio was coming together. I'd put a bit of seating around the edges with dark faux leather sofas and wooden chairs and tables, fixed the acoustics and painted the walls black with a few carefully placed mirrors. I even had an upright piano which Davis told me had been left abandoned in one of the other studios. It was a bit plinky plonky, but fine for my purposes. I still needed to get some proper stage lighting installed along with some other tech, but there was enough ambient light in there to at least make a start. There was a good size props cupboard off to one side which I would fill up as needed, with another cupboard serving as an office area where I set up a desk, filing cabinet and computer connected to the building's WIFI. I had a bookshelf ready to fill up with working texts, after my conversation with Jess and Hannah I realised I'd need to get on that sooner rather than later. Definitely Shakespeare, then I could take a selection from my home library. I had a few translations of Grand Guignol plays which I had a feeling would be appreciated.

The next day I went shopping for the remaining tech I needed. The stage lighting was specialist equipment I wasn't sure where to get, until I remembered that I was a consultant at a film studio and made a note to ask Uncle Morbid about accessing their suppliers. The other stuff I needed was regular consumer electronics, so I went and found an electrical store in the middle of Ketherton where I was met by a charming man in a neat company uniform who listened carefully to my shopping list and plotted a route around the store.
As he turned to lead the way, I noticed what was written on his name badge.

"Hi, I'm Len. How can I help?"

No way, I thought.

With Len's help I found what I was looking for - a large screen TV, a sound system and a couple of simple video cameras - and went to complete the purchase and arrange delivery.

"You've been very helpful, Len," I said. "But I have one more question. Have we met recently?"

Len smiled. "I have a break in forty minutes," he said. "Meet me in the coffee shop next door and we can have a chat."

---

The coffee shop was a wood panelled affair with tables set into an assortment of nooks and corners, so Len and I had no trouble finding a private place to talk.

"Blue Bandit, I presume?" I said.

"The Blue Bandit's dead," said Len. "He got covered him in wax and set on fire by someone who looked a lot like my old headmistress. It was quite uncanny."

I sensed the importance of referring to avatars in the third person, so went along. "Hyacinth's new to the Masquerade. She needed building up, so Betsy picked your guy as someone that could help. I must say it was very skilfully done, even more than if you... sorry, he... had been playing the game properly."

Len laughed.

"You're welcome," he said. "I agree. I think it's more fun, too."

He proceeded to tell me his story.

Len had been a good natured child, not particularly picked on - he was big enough for there to be easier targets for bullies who didn't want to be hit back - but he wasn't one of the main crowd either, basically he was the odd kid that got left alone. Like many boys he watched action cartoons and collected the toys based on them, but his interest was slightly different.

"Take something like He-Man," he said. "You have this ridiculously perfect set of heroes, all blonde musclemen and soldiers in righteous armour, going up against a misfit army of strange mutants led by a guy with a skull head, purple costume and muscles - muscles, on a skeleton! - who rode a black panther and was way cooler than fair haired Mr. Universe that you were meant to be cheering on. Skeletor's castle was a mountain with a snake around it, that's how awesome he was. But his main job, along with Leech Man, Mer-Man and all the others, was to get their arses kicked every week by the Good Guys."

"So you liked the villains."

"Yes, but not because they were villains. They couldn't be too evil anyway on kids' TV, they'd have some loopy plan to antagonise people by stealing something or kidnapping someone, sometimes they'd attack one of the supporting characters, but they were the ones who ended up getting hurt. The good guys were clean cut, formulaic and boring. But the baddies were creative. Without them, there was no story.

"I was a big fan of pro-wrestling, which was like action cartoons made real. The heels did all the creative work on the way to ultimate defeat, just enough to make you think that the hero was in trouble. Later on the heels started becoming antiheroes and won all the time, which wasn't as satisfying somehow. My favourites were the random masked guys they'd trot out with generic names like The Executioner from Parts Unknown, who'd put up enough of a fight to make the main guy look good then get murdered at the end. Every wrestling fan fantasises of being their favourite wrestler, but I must have been the only one that fantasised about being the job guy. It wasn't about pain or humiliation - I don't think I'm a masochist or anything like that - but I liked doomed antagonists the best."

"Did you ever think about actually getting into wrestling, or acting?" I asked.

"Nah, not me," said Len. "I'm not a small fella and did as much exercise as I could, but I was never that sporty. I was more of a tech geek and didn't think I'd be any good at it. Besides, actual wrestling would hurt a lot, fixed outcomes or none. So I kept it as a hobby fantasy. I took part in internet e-feds and collected action figures, especially the cheap generic ones around market stalls and pound shops. That's where I got the bug for creating names and images for one-off characters with random names. When I found the Mortal Masquerade, I got to do it for real. Now I can be someone new every week, put on a show and kill off the character in some mad way, all ready to start over. It's a blast."

I asked Len if he was interested in joining my acting classes, but he declined.
"Thanks, but I'm happy creating quirky, disposable characters. They're like toy soldiers with one-dimensional gimmicks, if I start getting to know them as people it might make them harder to kill. But I'd love to help in some other way. If you need a technician to help with the sound and lighting, I could do that. As for the Masquerade, tell Hyacinth she's welcome to kill me again, I should be easy to spot on the sign-up board. Or if you get there first, I'll take whatever she chooses."

I thanked him and told him I'd keep him in mind if I needed a technician.

"Kill you later," I found myself saying as Len headed off back to work.

After he'd gone something struck me about our conversation: he never mentioned when he actually died.

I wondered if he knew.