Randy3000 - Chapter 3

With trembling hands, Randy picked up the device on the table. His body felt numb, crushed by some power, some…lifeforce. A lifeforce now depleted from the man crumpled on the floor beside him. 

And as the feeling returned to his fingers, so did his hearing. He realized now as the ringing in his ears subsided that there was a crowd of dozens of people shouting, cheering him on. But, there’s a man dead, thought Randy. Why are they…?

And then it all came to him, piece by piece. The memories. The game of death he had participated in. And the reason he did…the possibility of saving his son. His Jaden. 

Randy fell to his knees and began to sob, overwhelmed by what he had been forced to do. Forced? No, he had chosen this. He hadn’t known at the time what he would need to do tonight, but he would have been willing to do anything I’d it meant healing the boy. 

“Stand up!” came a voice behind him, and Randy suddenly felt a hand pat down on his shoulder. 

Rage overcame him. 

“You didn’t tell me…!” Randy cried, heart pounding and head throbbing, grabbing the man by that silly black suit he wore. “The I would have to…that he…this man is dead!”

“And you’re alive,” the suited man said through a devilish grin. “And the crowd loves you! Can’t you hear them now?”

And he heard the cheers from the crowd again, bellowing his approval. 

“I don’t care about them,” Randy said, wiping his eyes. “My son. You promised to save him.”

“I promised you no such thing.” said the man, waving a finger. “I promised you money. And money you shall have.” 

Randy only now noticed the briefcase the man held by his waist. “Go ahead,” he said, holding it out. “It’s yours.”

Randy grabbed it and knelt down, popping it open. He had never been much for counting and never cared for money, but looking at this now…could it be enough for the surgery? 

The suitcase snapped shut with a pop and Randy stood up, turning to leave when a hand grabbed him back. 

“I believe you have something of mine,” he said. 

Randy gripped the briefcase tighter and then realized in his other hand he held the device, the black, smooth, oddly cold metal cylinder. He ran his fingers over the skull like silver face embedded into the front.

“What is it?” he asked as he handed it over. The man sneered. 

“Listen to them,” he said, waving a hand out to the crowd. Their cheers had now morphed into a name. Randy. Randy. Randy. Over and over. “Do you think they cheer like that for just anyone?”

“I told you, I don’t care. I…”

“But of course you care,” said the suited man. “You spent years developing your talent. Not for money. Not for luxury. Not for your family. It was for you. Selfish little you. You wanted the fame, the glory. You wanted to be the center of attention? Well, now you are. Tell me, am I wrong?”

Randy clenched his jaw and squeezed his briefcase hand. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“But of course I do,” he said with a smile. “I knew your address. Did I not know your talent, your family situation, and exactly how I could get you into my games?” He paused, but Randy said nothing. “Well, it would stand to reason then that I know SOMETHING about you, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would do anything for my family,” Randy said as he turned back to leave. 

“You know the surgery won’t save your son.”

Randy stopped in his tracks. The cheers of the crowd seemed to die down. 

“What do you know about him?”

“Quite a lot, even more than I know about you in fact. The surgery will cure his blood, sure, but it won’t keep at bay what poisoned his blood in the first place.”

Poisoned? 

“What are you talking about?” asked Randy. By all accounts this was nonsense. There was no poison. It was a cancer, an illness, nothing more than bad luck and bad genetics. 

The man held up the device and for a moment the eyes of the skull seemed to glow.

“There’s much more to this story than you know, dear Randy.” The man spread a devilish smile across his face again. “And if you don’t come for the money tomorrow, then how about this. Come back for information. I will trade you the cause of your sons ailment for one final round. Do we have a deal?” 

Randy clenched his fist and felt the anger pulse through him. He leaped towards the man and grabbed his black suit coat inside his sweating fists.  

“I’m tired of all this,” he said with a quivering lip and trembling hands. “Who ARE you? Why are you doing all of this?”

“Tomorrow,” said the man, and he pulled a small origami paper from his jacket. Randy loosened his grip and set the man down. “How familiar are you with fortune telling?”

“I don’t believe in it for a moment.”

The man tisked and waggled a finger. “You shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss sources of information, no matter the source. You see, there are many who claim to possess the power of divination. But the truth of it can be traced far back to the ancient Chinese prophets, millennia before tea leaves and palm reading.”

He handed the piece of origami paper over to Randy who began to open it, but was stopped by the man in black. 

“Tomorrow,” said the man. “Come back, and you’ll have some answers.”

**THE FORTUNE TELLING GAME AWAITS YOU. PLEASE DOWNLOAD THE DOCUMENT AND FOLD IT AS SHOWN BELOW TO PLAY THE GAME**