"Welcome to Solar Progeny!" He said. "My name is Paris. How can I help you today, sir?"
"I'm looking for Anthony," I said.
"Oh, uh, I'm afraid Anthony's not in right now," He said, looking a little nervous about it.
"Well, when will he be back?" I asked.
"I don't know," He replied. "He just said he was going on vacation for a while and for me to watchthe place while he was out."
"Well that's bloody inconvenient," I said. "Look, do you know how I can get ahold of him? I'm an old friend."
"Are you?" Paris asked.
"Name's Justin," I said.
Paris took a second to process the name before stepping back in alarm.
"You!" He gasped. "Justin Ferin! The Timberwolf!"
I sighed.
"Yeah, that's me," I said. "Can I come in for a bit?"
"I- I really shouldn't let you," he stammered.
Ignoring him, I stepped over the threshold, causing him to back away in fear. I stayed calm and made my way in. It was a nice place. Anthony had fixed up the front room into a pretty comfy looking office, complete with desk, file cabinet, one of those big water dispensers, and of course a really old telephone. Can't be a detective without a really old telephone.
I'm sure you've caught on to Anthony's occupation. He's a private investigator who subtly specializes in Fear related cases. He doesn't exactly list it on his business cards, but runner tend to come to him for help. As such, word about his work has spread, both to people running from the Fears and those working under them. Though, generally servants leave the guy alone. He's only human. Not really a threat to us.
Or so some servants stupidly believe...
"Look, Paris, was it?" I said. "A close friend of mine was whisked off to some crazy tournament, and Anthony's currently my best bet at getting him out of there. He's the only guy I can think of who might have info on this whole deal."
"I can't help you," Paris said. "Anthony didn't tell me anything about where he was going."
"Well, what can you tell me?" I asked. "Did he talk to anyone weird before he bailed?"
Paris fell silent for a bit before speaking up.
"Tall guy," he said. "Gave me the chills. Couldn't see his face. He had a black cloak on."
"That's not very helpful," I said. "Okay, do you or Anthony know anything about the Game Master?"
Paris straightened up at that.
"The Game Master?" He asked. "It's one of his tournaments?"
"Yeah," I said. "You guys have anything here? Like, notes or anything?"
"Hold on," Paris told me, going to the file cabinet and rooting through the top drawer. "A, B, C, D, E, F... Here it is!"
He pulled a folder out of the cabinet and set I on the desk. I approached it.
"Weird," Paris said. "Could have sworn it was thicker than that..."
The words "Game Master" were written across the folder in sharp, red letters.
"What's all in here?" I asked.
"Most of what Anthony's managed to gather on this guy," Paris explained. "Pictures, notes, whatever he could find online and things he's heard from clients. He's got a lot of files like that."
I opened it up. he firs thing I saw in there was a very detailed drawing. It depicted a tall, creepy looking skeleton. It was dressed in tattered, ancient looking clothing, and a long black cloak. IT wore a mask, displaying a spade, a club, a diamond, and a heart.
"Guy's got a playing card motif," I noted.
"Or playing cards have a Game Master motif," Paris said. "This guy's been around for thousands of years."
"And this is what he looks like?" I asked.
"Apparently," Paris said. "You know, I really shouldn't be showing this..."
I reached into my pocket, drew out some cash, and slapped it down on the desk. Paris hesitated for a few seconds.
"Okay, maybe just a bit more..." He said.
I continued looking through them. There were a lot of pictures of him in there. Some of better quality than others. But I soon came across a different drawing. Another highly detailed one. This one was a man with dark, flowing hair hat extended past his waist. He wore a torn and patched up longcoat, and in his right hand he held a long Chinese sword with a variety of symbols engraved on it. On his face was a mask with a symbol on it.
The picture next to it was a larger, more detailed drawing of the symbol on his mask. I looked like a large eye, turned on its side and bound in chains. It had no iris, but the pupil was enormous. And overlapping with it was an intricate looking letter A.
"Who is this?" I asked.
"He's got some connection to the Game Master," Paris said. "We've got a separate file on him, but I really shouldn't show you any more than this."
"Whatever," I said, continuing.
The next picture was of a tall man dressed in black robes, with a black hooded cloak covering his ace. A tarot card, the Ace of Swords, was paper-clipped to it.
"Is this the guy Anthony was talking too?" I asked.
"Yeah," Paris said.
"So he's connected to the Game Master too?" I asked.
"I guess so," Paris replied. "But that would mean..."
"Anthony might be involved in the tournament somehow," I said.
"Oh no," Paris muttered.
"You said this folder was thicker before," I said. "He must have taken some of his notes with him."
Paris began pacing around nervously. As he did, I snuck the tarot card into my pocket.
So what I gather from this is that this hooded guy must had invited Anthony to the tournament, and gave him the time to prepare himself for it and leave his place in Paris's hands. OR at least, that's a possibility. But why? Why would Anthony accept, and why would the Game Master give him the opportunity to get himself ready when he didn't do the same for other competitors. Was Anthony even a competitor at all? Was something else going on here under the surface? I honestly have no idea. I have a lot of questions.
I moved on to one last set of pictures. Pictures I recognized.
"Where did Anthony get these?" I demanded.
Paris stopped and looked at them.
"He bought them off somebody," Paris said.
"A Fear servant?" I asked.
"Probably," Paris said. "I mean, non servants can't get in there, so that would make sense."
All the pieces fell into place. The 13 tables with the card suit themed chairs. The card and dice games they have there. It all fits.
Sal's is connected to the Game Master.
No comments:
Post a Comment