Authenticity in all things. This principle was the keystone of his profession, and Mr Ranke was a consummate professional. Not many actors could commit to the role with quite the same depth. And so, In the last two hundred years, he had become a theatre legend in what was referred to as the ‘westernmost end’. The area was noted for its fecund cultural life; authors stalking back alleys, poets ambushing the unsuspecting in remote ginnels, and roaming gangs of actors accosting the unwary.

Indeed, Mr Ranke’s career had begun as a member of one of those humble troupes. Two centuries ago, he and four others had painted the town - quite literally - red as a member of what was, at the time, known as ’The Five Othellos”. However, the group’s revolutionary acting method had eventually necessitated a tragic collective suicide. Ranke was first aware of his particular talents that night when, of the five, only he was unable to die. The everyman would view this as fortuitous, but to Ranke, this event marked the greatest failure.

Since then, death had become an obsession to him, but to others, he was a freakish curiosity. He began small, with a dockyard performance of “The man who made sausages out of his own intestines”, a play of his own design. Before moving onto more ambitious projects like “The man who had his head violently caved in, over and over, and his sons.” He focused on the weakest element of his repertoire, dying; wishing to perfect it before moving on to the other areas of his craft.

Curiously, his industry seemed to have a gentrifying effect on the district. Acting like a lodestone for violence, every malefactor and troubled youth either exorcised his troubles on Mr Ranke or, having viewed one of his daily performances, decided to himself he didn’t actually have the stomach for crime. Many were the ‘prodigal son’ stories that Ranke heard of an estranged child returning home after a particularly compelling performance of his magnum opus, “Man has fingernails and teeth swapped in place, and is then forced to eat pork scratchings”.

Ranke was viewed as a man who had a genius for dying. Noone could approach his ingenuity. He had a vast array of patterns for various machines that an actor could employ. The great ‘Brain clobbering device’, and the infamous ‘portable sausage maker’, had both helped to cement his reputation. However, no matter how perfect his death throes were, the actuality of death remained a mystery to him. In the back alley that served as an impromptu changing room Ranke sighed; looking at himself for a long moment in the mirror before standing and walking towards his audience.