Welcome to a secret world that hides beneath the surface of the mundane. It is a world of urban legends and rumors, a world of astonishing deeds and epic battles. Meet its enigmatic inhabitants. Learn their secrets, their desires, their beliefs, their hopes and their dreams. Listen to the tales of pain, injustice, compassion, kindness, courage, cooperation, love, sacrifice and hope. Meet the guardian angels, the warriors, the philosophers, the priests, the phantoms and the wanderers. But remember – once you enter this world, you can never truly leave it.

GEISHA’S FAVOR: Masquerade

I was in jail.

Somehow, that didn’t quite sink in until now.

Sure, I knew that sooner or later, it was bound to happen. Nobody is perfect. Even the great Arsene Lupin had been stuck in jail once or twice.

Look on the bright side, I told myself. You didn’t tell the cops anything. Not a word. They threw everything they had at you and you didn’t give in. Besides, Mr. Mask got your back. He wouldn’t let you down. No way.

Would he?

One thing for sure, my mom was going to freak. Her cute, innocent little Marty, in jail! The horror, the horror! There goes her precious social life.

Then again, I wasn’t Marty Nayce anymore, was I?

Someday, people will read about the astonishing exploits of Andy Verge, a daring thief who fooled the rich and the powerful (and earned some cash on the side, too). Sure, they might wince at the part where he was knocked out by a bunch of six-foot tall ninjas, but they’ll marvel at his courage and perseverance in the face of sadistic, incompetent cops. They’ll be astonished by his clever escape, which would, of course, only be the first great escape of his spectacular career.

They will never know the whole truth.

It all started a few months ago. I just pulled off my very first robbery. Sure, stealing an late-19th-century impressionist painting from some old coot’s apartment wasn’t much of a challenge, but I got away clean, so I felt pretty good about myself.

I put the painting up on E-bay. I made up an elaborate story about how it’s been in my family (which was, of course, an old dynasty full of nobles and celebrities) for generations. I thought for sure someone would realize that I was full of crap, but it turned out I had nothing to worry about. I guess it was just too smart for the E-bay crowd.

I sold the painting for several hundred thousand dollars.

And then, I partied.

Man, did I party.

There was drinking, reckless driving, reckless drunk driving, partying, wild sex and, of course, shopping. Yes, shopping. There were so many things I’ve always wanted to buy but couldn’t buy because I had no money, so I figured, why not?

Then, I wondered if I could do more. A few extra thousand dollars wouldn’t hurt, right? I stole another painting. And another. And another. It seemed so natural. Screw with the security system, grab the painting, get out and sell it. No muss no fuss.

I thought it couldn’t get any better then that. I was wrong. Boy was I wrong.

One evening, I was sitting on couch with a laptop on my lap and an expensive bottle in my hand, trying to decide between a blonde, a brunette or, perhaps, some kinky combination of both, when suddenly, someone rang the doorbell.

Oh.

Crap!

For a moment, I just sat there, wondering if I should run for my life or stay where I was and hope they’ll think I’m gone and go away.

I made a note never to tell my future fans about it.

They would never understand. Andy Verge, afraid of knocking? Impossible!

Thankfully, they’ll never meet my parents.

I took a look around the room. I needed an escape route. Just in case.

Then, I realized that I wasn’t hearing my father’s self-righteous rants or my mother’s whining.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

Get a grip, man, I told myself. You don’t live with them anymore. If you don’t wanna see them, there’s nothing they can do about it. Got it?

Good.

I put down my wine glass and went to the door.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“Do not open the door, Mister Nayce,” a monotone, almost bored voice replied. “In precisely three minutes, I will leave. At that time, you will open the door. If you open the door any earlier or any later, you will be shot. Do you understand me?”

My heart skipped a beat.

This is a joke. Some kind of stupid prank. It has to be.

I leaned over to the keyhole.

A barrel of a gun stared back at me.

Crap.

Crap crap crap crap crap!

“Do you understand me, Mister Nayce?” the gunman asked again.

“Yes,” I squeaked.

“Good. When you open the door, you will see an envelope on your doormat. You pick up the envelope, close the door, lock the door and open the envelope. You will follow the letter’s instructions precisely and explicitly. If you fail to do so, you will be shot. If you attempt to follow me, you will be shot. If you ask your neighbors about me, you and your neighbors will be shot. If you call the police, you will be shot before you’ll have a chance to say a single word. Do you understand?”

I tried to keep my voice from shaking.

“Yes.”

“Very good. Turn around. You will open the door in one minute and six seconds, starting now. Have a good day, Mister Nayce.”

I glanced over at my watch and started counting.

I didn’t move. I tried not to breathe. All my thoughts were focused on the tiny display on my wrist as the numbers crawled by. If I move too early, I will die. If I move too late, I will die.

Of course, my future admirers will never find out about any of this.

No no.

08:14:55

Beat

08:14:56

Beat!

08:14:57

Beat! Beat!

08:14:58

Beat! Beat! Beat!

08:14:59

Beat! Beat! Beat! Beat!

08:15.00

YES! Made it.

I opened the lock, yanked the door forward, grabbed the envelope and locked the door behind me.

I breathed.

What if I jumped the gun? What if I didn’t open the door fast enough? What if I didn’t close the door fast enough?

I braced myself.

Nothing happened.

With shaking, sweaty fingers, I opened the envelope.

It had three sheets of paper and two smaller envelopes.

I unfolded the first paper.

Dear Mr. Martin Josh Nayce

I have heard a great deal about your recent exploits. I must confess that you have piqued my Interest. It is truly rare to see a man of your age demonstrate such remarkable Aptitude for your chosen Craft.

I have consulted with my honorable Peers and I am delighted to say that it is my Pleasure and my Privilege to hereby invite you to attend the Gathering of our Glorious, Majestic Masquerade. It shall take place on Saturday of this week.

Wait a minute, I realized. That’s tomorrow!

I continued reading:

In the first Envelope, you will find a Door Pass that will allow you to enter The Masquerade as an Honored Guest. In the second Envelope, you will find an Exclusive Pass to the Third Floor of The Masquerade, with all the Privileges and Favors it entitles. But before you indulge in the Greatness that is The Masquerade, I must request that you join me in a Private Conversation. I assure you that it will well worth your time.

Now, when you attend The Masquerade, there are certain Rules and Procedures that need to be followed. You can find information about them on the second sheet of paper.

I sincerely hope that you will have a great time at our Glorious Masquerade. I look forward to meeting you.

Sincerely

Mr. Mask

Black Priest of the Glorious and Majestic Masquerade

I could not believe my eyes.

This was impossible. Unimaginable. Mind-blowing. I would have danced with joy, but I was on my way to becoming a legend, and legends don’t dance like little schoolgirls.

Not even in private.

I always knew that there was more to life then clean suburban houses, stupid rules and pointless social functions. As soon as I ditched all that crap and joined the real world, I started hearing all kinds of weird rumors. One of them involved some kind of secret club where the rich and the powerful went to get their freak on without paparazzi breathing down their necks. It was supposed to be pretty exclusive.

I wasn’t rich (yet). I wasn’t powerful (yet). But, apparently, I was good enough for The Masquerade.

I looked at the second paper.

The Official Rules of Conduct for the Honored Guests of the Masquerade

This paper is for the Exclusive use of the Honored Guest. It may not be copied, stored or shown to anyone else.

Main Rules

1) The Honored Guest must wear a suit, a Cloak and a Mask of their choosing. The Mask must cover their entire face. If they desire, they may wear another mask underneath. The Honored Guest must not take their mask off while in the presence of other Honored Guests and Honored Members of the Masquerade. They are permitted to take the mask off inside Private Rooms.

2) The Honored Guest shall not attempt to remove the Masks of the other Honored Guests and Honored Members of the Masquerade under any circumstances.

3) The Honored Guest shall not carry any form of personal identification.

4) The Honored Guest shall not carry any recording device, nor any device capable of one-way or two-way audio or video transmission.

5) The Honored Guest shall not inquire about any personal information, affiliation and status of any Honored Guest and Honored Member of the Masquerade.

6) The Honored Guest shall not bring any personal artifact the Masquerade.

7) The Honored Guest shall not leave any of his belongings within the walls of The Masquerade.

8) If any of the rules of the Masquerade is disobeyed, the Honored Guest will lose all Protections and Privileges. All of the Honored Guest’s belongings will be burned. The Honored Guest will be escorted to the Sixth Chamber of the Fifth Floor. If the Honored Guest attempts to escape his punishment, he will be killed on sight.

Exclusive Pass Guidelines

1) The Exclusive Pass will be valid for the entire duration of a single Gathering (as labeled on the pass). It may not be reused in any future Gathering of our Glorious and Majestic Masquerade.

2) The Exclusive Pass may only be used for unrestricted access to the Third Floor of the Masquerade. The Honored Guest will not attempt to move to another floor.

3) The Exclusive Pass is issued in your name and your name only. It may not be transferred, given or otherwise passed on to another individual.

4) If the Exclusive Pass is misused or if any of the Guidelines are disobeyed, the Honored Guest (as well as all his descendants, relatives and family members) will be permanently banned from The Masquerade. His bank account will be emptied. If the Honored Guest resists the punishment, harsher measures will be implemented.

Further Information

1) The Honored Guest will receive further instructions via a phone call. It will take place at 8:00 PM; a day after this letter is delivered. If the Honored Guest fails to answer the phone, the Exclusive Pass will be invalidated.

I looked over the rules again, just in case I missed something the first time around.

I whistled.

I guess if I stay in line, don’t peak and don’t ask too many questions, I’ll be okay.

I didn’t like following the rules. I didn’t like that one bit. But, if there is one thing I learned is that opportunities like this don’t come often.

I decided not to mention this part to my future fans.

After all, daring thieves don’t follow the rules – they make the rules.

The Gathering was going to take place the next day. I assumed it would be some time in the evening. I mean, a secret party in the middle of the afternoon (or in the morning) – I don’t think so. It just wasn’t cool. So, the next day, I woke up pretty early. I had a lot to do and probably not a whole lot of time to do it.

After some Mapquesting, I went to every costume shop in town. I had to look just right. I found a cloak and a suit pretty quickly. The mask was a different story. From what I could tell, folks at The Masquerade took their masks pretty seriously. Maybe they had mask etiquette or something? If I picked the wrong mask, they could kick me out, or worse! So, for my sake, I knew I had to take my time.

It took me quite a while, but eventually, I found just the right mask. Or at least I hoped so.

By the time I got home, it was already seven a clock. I realized that I didn’t really eat anything all day, so I thought I’d order some pizza. Then, I realized that, at this time of day, traffic was murder and pizza guy would probably take forever to get her and by then it would be kind of pointless… Besides, I wasn’t that hungry.

I spent the next forty minutes trying to make myself look presentable. I washed – twice, three times, four times. I brushed my teeth so much my gums started to bleed. I shaved so hard I was afraid that my skin was going to start come off.

Then, I realized that it was kind of pointless. I was going to be wearing a mask. Nobody was going to see anything.

Or were they? They probably got super-x-rays or heat-vision thingies or echo…

Shut up.

The call came right on schedule.

“Ms. Nayce?” the monotone voice on the other end of the line asked.

“Yes.” I croaked helpfully.

“You will put on your suit. Then, you will wrap your mask in your cloak. You will carry your cloak under your right arm. You will leave the apartment and walk in a calm, measured pace to the corner of Saunders and Casey. While walking there, you will not stop. You will not talk with anyone. Once you reach the corner, you will walk another block north. A limo will come up to the side of the street. You will open the back door, get inside and close the door behind you. If you fail to follow any of those instructions precisely, your pass will be invalidated and, if necessary, you will die. Do you understand?”

There was something odd about this voice. Something unnatural. Well, other then the whole monotone thing.

“Do you understand me?” the voice asked again, this time with slightly more inflection.

“Yes,” I replied hurryingly.

“Very well. You may begin.”

And with that, the person on the other line hung up.

I didn’t have to be told twice.

Everything went without a hitch. No one saw me leave. No one stopped me. No one wondered what the heck a guy in a suit with some package under his arm was doing walking down the street at eight a clock in the evening.

What can I say? I was that natural.

And smooth. Never forget smooth.

Sure enough, as soon as I arrived at my rendezvous point, a very average-looking black limo stopped right in front as me.

I opened the door.

“Get in,” a voice from somewhere inside hissed.

Biting back a sarcastic remark, I climbed in and quickly closed the door.

Inside, the limo looked fairly average. A wine cabinet. A state-of-the art entertainment system. Nice, soft seats. A foldout table. Classic rent-a-limo.

Except for two things.

One, every window was covered with black curtains. Two, there was… how should I put it? A …shapely woman. She was sitting on the couch opposite of me. Her hair was hidden under a dark wig. Her face was completely covered by a golden mask that was frozen in a placid, neutral expression. She wore a pair of ankle-high leather boots, a leather trench coat that left very little to imagination, and… nothing else.

“Hello, Honorable Guest.” She wisped softly. “I am Ms. Sight. I shall be your guide to the Masquerade.”

There was something about her voice. I couldn’t put my finger on it.

“Did Mr. Mask send you?” I asked

“Perhaps,” she leaned forward slightly. “Or perhaps I just wanted to see you. Mr. Mask told me a lot about you, you know.”

“Really?”

Ms. Sight leaned a little closer, rocking her shoulders slightly.

“Whatever suits you, Honored Guest.”

“Please,” I smiled, “Call me Andy Verge.”

“Now now, this just won’t do,” Ms. Sight shook her head. “The Masquerade has no use for names. Names are something someone else gave us. We never asked for them, yet we’re stuck with them for the rest of our lives. Does that sound fair to you?”

“But…”

“No buts, my dear Honored Guest,” Ms. Sight leaned forward, “If you want to enter the Masquerade, you must rid yourself of everything someone else gave you. Your social status doesn’t matter. Your heritage doesn’t matter. Your connections don’t matter. When we partake in the Masquerade, we are free from all the worldly attachments. For a few moments, however fleeing, we are truly equal.”

“But my name…”

“…Doesn’t belong to you. Free yourself from it. Otherwise, this will be your last visit. Do you understand me?”

I decided that arguing was pointless.

“So, if I can’t use my name, what the hel…ck am I supposed to call myself?”

“Look within yourself. Find that the one special thing, that one thing that makes you you. You’ll know the answer.”

Her lips were inches away from mine.

“I don’t know,” I said, trying my best to sound cool. “But I was hoping you can you help me look for it.”

Ms. Sight laughed.

“You naughty, naughty boy,” She purred. “Come here.”

Now, let me tell you something. I wasn’t a virgin. Oh no. But you know what? On that day, I wished I was. Because nothing, and I do mean NOTHING could possibly come close to what I experienced in the limo.

I decided that when I get rich and famous, I’d dedicate a book to her: “To the Mysterious Ms. Sight” It’s got a nice ring to it.

But, alas, all good things must come to an end.

We drove up to the building, stopping in a parking lot full of limos of all models and sizes. From what I could tell, it was a white palace about four stories high. It was made in a neo-classical style, or at least I thought so. As soon as I got out of the car, Ms. Sight grabbed my arm and told me to walk quickly, so I didn’t really get a chance to look around.

We came up to a large bronze boor. It was guarded by a pair of cloaked figures who stood so completely still they could have passed for statues. Pale masks with long, sharp, curved beaks covered their faces. As we approached, they moved to block our entrance.

“Passssworrrd,” the figure on the right demanded. It’s voice sounded distorted, like it was put through a machine. Except I couldn’t see any machine anywhere near his mouth.

“Adlido Adsertor,” said Ms. Sight

She pulled her pass out of her trench coat and showed it to the figures. She gestured me to pull out mine.

“Aeterrrnusss,” the figure on the left echoed. “You may enterrr.”

They moved out of the way. Their cloaks didn’t even wrinkle.

How did they do that?

“Come on, let’s go.” Ms. Sight shouted.

“Coming!”

I walked through the door and gasped.

I’ve never really been to fancy palaces before. Sure, I robbed a few, but it always involved crawling through the air ducts, sneaking around, climbing over fences, etc. I never actually got to walk around, check out the digs… you know that I mean.

The crimson walls were peppered with paintings of different people in various period costumes. There were four doors – a dark, granite-laced door on the left, a lighter emerald-covered door on the right and a pair of white doors closer to the center. A beautiful starlit sky was painted on the ceiling. The floors were made of white and black marvel. Looking closely, I realized that the white marvel formed a gigantic, confusing maze.

There was a rim several inches from the sealing. It was lined with… something. I wasn’t sure. Some kind of glowy stuff, I guess. Whatever it was, it lit up the entire room.

A man in a tuxedo stood in the middle of the lobby. He wore a flesh-colored mask with a short black mustache.

“Ms. Sight,” he bowed. “I see you brought a guest.”

“Yes.” She tipped her head slightly. “Where is Mr. Mask?”

“On the Third Floor with Ms. Geisha. Is he expecting you?”

“Very much so. May we have an express elevator?”

“By all means. Please proceed. And my I say, Honorable Guest, that is one remarkable mask.”

“Thank you.”

“Have a good time, sir.”

The white door closer to the right slid to the side. We went inside.

It was a steel box. No control panel. No mirrors. No adornments. Nothing.

The door closed.

“Well?” I asked.

“’Well’ what?” Ms Sight shrugged.

“We are in a steel box. Now what?”

“We’re going to the third floor.”

“How? We aren’t moving?”

“Says who?”

Just then, something behind me whooshed.

I turned around.

There was this large space. I wasn’t sure what I should call it. It was too big for a room but too small for a ballroom. Haunting, yet somehow soothing music was playing in the background. Dark columns and long, silver-framed mirrors lined the walls. The floor was covered with dark carpeting. Four huge lanterns hung from the ceiling. Its rims were filled with candles. Real, honest-to-goodness wax candles.

But that wasn’t all. Oh no. Everywhere throughout the room, couples dressed in all kinds of costumes and masks were busy screwing their brains out. Looking closer, I could see that some of them were talking. Some were getting out of their costumes. Some were putting their costumes back on, but, from what I saw, I guessed it was fair to assume that anyone who stayed in this room were expected to start going at it sooner or later.

It was so unreal…

“Come on!” Ms. Sight whispered loudly. “We have to go.”

I followed, dazed. We went from one room to another. The decorations were different, the costumes were different, the furniture was different - only the screwing remained pretty much the same. I noticed that the further we went, the more costumes covered the floor. By the time we reached the twelfth room, I started to wonder if any of those people just came here stark naked.

Fifteen rooms later, Ms. Sight took a sharp right and led me though a white door.

It was smaller then all the other halls. Most of the floor was lined with short grass, with pebble walkways crisscrossing the lawn. Marble statues were scattered here and there, seemingly without pattern. But, as I looked closer, I realized that if you traced imaginary lines between them, they actually formed an uneven eight-corner star. Over in the middle, there was a square. Four small fountains flanked it. A large statue of a weird Greek god… what was his name… Satyr… was right in the middle. As we came closer, I noticed that there was a bench underneath. It was occupied by a masked couple. The woman was wrapped in two layers of extravagant kimono. She had a white mask with completely dark, oriental eyes. She also wore one of those… geisha wigs. You know, the big black things with steel chopsticks stuck through them. She was leaning against a guy in a pirate costume. He wore a white mask with a black, Zorro-style mask tied around his “eyes”. His hair was almost completely covered by a large, triangular hat.

“Mr. Mask,” Ms. Sight bowed her head. “As per your orders, I brought you the Honorable Guest. “

Mr. Mask tilted his head slightly.

“Of course.” Ms. Sight continued. “How thoughtless of me. Ms. Geisha, how do you do?”

“I was doing very well.” Ms. Geisha replied as she leaned even closer to Mr. Mask. “And you?”

Her voice was low, husky and kind of lazy, like she could care less about how her words came out.

“Why, Ms. Geisha, I am simply paralyzed with happiness.”

Umm… I thought…. Free catfight. Cool.

“Thank you, Ms. Sight.” Mr. Mask said sternly. “Now leave us.”

“As you wish, Mr. Mask. As you know, I am always at your disposal.”

She turned around and, briskly, like a soldier at a parade, left the “garden”.

“Welcome, Honorable Guest,” said Mr. Mask. “Please, have a seat.”

A guy in a tuxedo and a white, featureless mask appeared behind me, producing a chair.

“Thank you,” I said as I took a seat. I looked back to get a better look at the “butler”. He was gone.

How did he do that?

“I trust your journey was a pleasant one.” He continued.

“Oh yeah! I mean, yes. Sure. Definitely. Couldn’t have been better. Thank you, Mr. Mask.”

“You are quite welcome, Mr….”

“Eyes. Mr. Eyes.”

“Interesting.” He exchanged looks with Ms. Geisha. “Very interesting.”

Ah. The mask. The one I spent so much time looking for. It was one of those full-head masks, like the ones cartoon villains of Scooby-Do monsters always wear. It looked like an average, human face, except the eyes were huge and there were a bunch of little eyeballs where the hair should have been.

Mr. Mask rubbed his thumb against his right hand.

“Yes. Very, very interesting. Tell me, Honorable Guest, why are you ‘Mr. Eyes’?”

I took a deep breath. If I blew this explanation, he would never take me seriously. And if that happened… I didn’t even want to think about that.

“Because… Ms. Mask. In my job, eyes are everything. I need them to see the prize, get the prize and get away with the prize. I need them so that I could cover my tracks. Without eyes… I’m nothing.”

Please like it, please like it, please like it…

Mr. Mask laughed:

“Well said, Mr. Eyes. Well said.”

“Hmm,” Ms. Geisha chimed in, “no wonder you sent Ms. Sight to fetch him.”

“That’s quite enough, Ms. Geisha.” He replied curtly. She looked away.

“Mr. Eyes,” Mr. Mask continued without missing a beat. “I am sure you wondered why I summoned you.”

I nodded.

“Have you ever heard of Kervin O’Dare?”

“No.”

“Pity. He used to be quite famous back in the day. Daring deeds, heroic exploits, loyal, powerful friends, gorgeous groupies… He was living the dream. But, as the years went by, he got old. He got sick. He got tired. Nowadays, he barely does anything except sit in his house and stare at his mementoes. Luckily for him, he’s well protected. A system of motion sensors, multi-spectral video cameras, temperature sensors and metal detectors protects every door and every window. The air is constantly filtered and purified. The doors and the walls are reinforced with six layers of lead and steel. Forty-eight Puck-245 mini-drones patrol every hallway at night. They have the same compliment of sensors as the doors. They are armed with laser-guided tranquilizer pallets that can incapacitate an elephant in five shots. They operate on an independent power source and are resistant to low-range electro-magnetic pulses. Yet, despite all those precautions, someone managed to enter his house, steal a painting that was hanging in his living room and get away, all without activating any aspect of the security system. It wasn’t until two weeks later that anyone noticed the painting was gone.”

“How did you know it was me?” I asked. I thought I covered my tracks perfectly.

“I was the one who bought that painting,” Mr. Mask chuckled. “When it arrived, all I had to do was check the return address.”

Oh. Crap.

Suddenly, I felt really, really stupid.

“Since then, I decided that you were worthy of my attention,” Mr. Mask continued. “You are clumsy and, at times, hopelessly naïve, but I am sure that time and experience will take care of that. You have potential, Mr. Eyes, and that’s what counts.”

“Thank you, Mr. Mask.”

“You are quite welcome. That said, I was wondering if you would be interested in helping me with a certain… project.”

“What kind of project?”

“I am a powerful man, Mr. Eyes,” Mr. Mask said thoughtfully. “I have many convenient friends. However, my path to power has been marred by some… competition. I intend to take them down a few notches. I was hoping that you would be willing to lend your unique talents and help me to do just that. Don’t worry, Mr. Eyes, it’s very simple. All I need you to do is approach a couple of individuals and… relieve them of their credit cards.”

“Excuse me?”

“I know what you must be thinking. Stealing credit cards is pointless since their owners would just cancel them. Tell me, Mr. Eyes, how do credit cards work?”

“Easy.” I replied. “Each credit card has a magnetic slip that contains information about how much money a person has. When you swipe the card through the scanner, it subtracts the price...”

“Right.” Mr. Mask nodded. “But the credit card doesn’t actually contain any money, does it?”

“No. It just records transactions. The actual money is stored in the bank.”

“Exactly. And how does the bank know who it’s supposed to pay?”

“Each card has an ID code. Every time you pay with a credit card, the information and the ID gets sent to the bank. That way, the bank knows who used the card and how much he spent. Duh.”

“Crassly put, Mr. Eyes, but you are essentially right. But do you know how banks cancel credit cards?”

“They cancel the ID?”

“Correct. But the account is still there, is it not?”

“Yeah.”

“So, as long as we know which account the credit card was originally assigned to, we can still withdraw the money.”

“Yeah. But I thought canceled IDs get deleted or something.”

“Mr. Eyes, when it comes to digital information, nothing is ever truly deleted. It just gets chopped up into tiny little pieces and dispersed. Any experienced hacker can find all those pieces and put them back together. But he has to do it quickly or he’ll lose some of the vital components.”

“OK…” I said, awestruck by all this information. “What do you want me to do?”

“I will give you the names, addresses and phone numbers of several individuals. Your job will be to steal their credit cards and, using a special scanner my agents will provide to you, swipe them. The information will be immediately sent to one of my agents. If all goes well, I’ll be able to drain the accounts in minutes. You may dispose of the credit cards as soon as you’re done.”

“Cool. Really cool. But what do I get our of this?”

“Always looking for your interests…” Mr. Mask chuckled. “I like it. But I digress. If you do this for me, you’ll have my sponsorship for the duration of your career. I’m sure you are perfectly aware that your profession has a few legal obstacles. With my influence, I’ll be more then happy to… remove them. And, should you ever need to get away from particularly zealous law enforcement officials, I’ll help you get past those pesky travel regulations. I can even set you up with a new, perfectly legal identity if you so choose. Does that sound like a deal?”

I had to think about it. I totally had to think about it. Because, you know, there has to be a catch, even though it sounds so tempting and right and cool…

“For life?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“Yes.”

“If I do this job, you’ll sponsor me for life?”

“Naturally.” Mr. Mask shot a look at Ms. Geisha. “I am a man of my word, Mr. Eyes. I know that this may not be good enough for someone as practical as you, but surely you understand that written agreements have an unfortunate tendency to leave paper trails.”

“Oh. Yeah. Sure. I understand.”

“Good. So, do we have a deal?”

Mr. Mask extended his hand. I shook it without hesitation.

“Yes,” I said, perhaps a little too loudly.

“Very good, Mr. Eyes. Now…”

A guy in a tuxedo suddenly stepped into view. He bowed:

“Mr. Mask, Ms. Geisha, your private chamber is ready for you.”

“Thank you,” He nodded. “Mr. Eyes, we will discuss the details of our arrangement… later. Until then, please feel free enjoy all the pleasures of the Masquerade.”

He and Ms. Geisha got up and followed the guy in a tuxedo.

I looked around.

How did it work? Was I supposed to just ask a girl: “Hi, can I shag you?” Or maybe: “Greeting, Ms Something-Something. May I ravish you?”

“Well, hello there.”

A black woman stepped into the view. She was wearing a long, puffy blue dress that left her shoulders and cleavage exposed. She wore a huge white wig and silver mask embossed with an intricate, web-like pattern. Looking closer, I realized the woven strands were actually diamond chips.

“I am Ms. Glamour,” she said, her voice melodic and serene. “Would you like to join me?”

She leaned forward, exposing even more of her cleavage.

Suddenly, my pants felt very uncomfortable.

“Yes. Of course. You know, I’ve never been with a black woman before…”

She smiled: “Oh really? You poor thing. You don’t know what you’ve been missing.”

I came closer…

“Get up, Marty. Your mother is on the phone.”

No. No. No.

I was in a prison cell, several weeks after I first met Mr. Mask. As much as I enjoyed reminiscing about those days, I couldn’t ignore reality, no matter how unpleasant it was.

I sighed and got up from the bunk.

Mr. Mask will get me out of here. I know he will. I did my job. Now, all I have to do is survive until tomorrow and I’ll be home free.

And then, the legend of Andy Verge will truly begin.