Dr. Avaline reached into his dark hole and pulled out five strands of Fate. He didn't consume it. Instead, he let them wander and went into the five unique role cards.
The hunter. The sentinel. The psychic. The priest. And the follower.
The cards shined more brightly and exuded a mystical aura. They weren't simply roles anymore, these cards were woven with Fate. An elusive concept that mortals could never understand.
"Now. I need to find my players. There are many versions of the future that I pick players randomly and lead to a catastrophic game.
The players need to have a reason to be here and they must have exceptional quality."
Dr. Avaline took out one thick strand of Fate. Fate was much harder to generate than Chaos. But he endured his regret to consume it.
Fate showed him the presence and led him to those that are worthy to his game.
December 24th, 2178. Naara City. Desmal District. Anthro Building.
The lonely woman walked into the dimly lit hallway. She stopped in front of the old wooden door and reached for the doorknob.
Her hand stopped before touching the doorknob and trembled gently. She hesitated. Is it really a good idea to come here?
Suddenly, the door opened and inside, a man with well-groomed blonde hair wearing an elegant dark blue suit appeared.
"Hello, Missus Dawson. Would you like to come in?" The man smiled. His smile was warm and incredibly charming.
"Mister… Mister Iris?"
"Charles Iris in the flesh and bone. At your service, Ma'am!"
Charles bowed in an elegant historical way. The form of greeting that had long been forgotten in this modern society.
"How did you know I'm here?" The woman said.
"I am a psychic, aren't I? Now come, Mrs. Dawson. We have much to discuss."
The woman nodded and went inside. They sat down the comfy armchairs facing each other.
"I know what you are here for, Mrs. Dawson. You want to talk to him, aren't you?"
The woman nodded. "Can you? Does it really work?"
"You have to believe so that I can make a connection to him."
The woman nodded.
Charles closed his eyes as he reached his hand to the empty space in the air.
"I can sense him, following right behind you. He is watching over you."
The woman soon burst to tears. "He really is dead?"
"Unfortunately, that is correct. He died a horrific death. The Silent Butcher struck again…"
The woman cried further. They talked for a while as Charles attempted to 'speak' with the dead.
In the end, he got paid thousands of dollars from the poor woman by telling her what she was afraid all along.
"Have a nice sleep, Mrs. Dawson." Charles greeted her at the door.
The woman wiped a tear out of the corner of her eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Iris. Thank you for giving me closure. I hope my poor husband will find peace in heaven."
"He certainly will."
Charles slammed the door shut. His face turned cold and indifferent once she was gone. He took his phone out to check his account balance. The payment was there.
Charles Iris was a famous medium and made a fortune by telling lies to people. The truth was that he was simply a careful observant with a brilliant mind. He could deduct many things simply by watching how people acted, talked, and responded.
Based on them, he could make an illusion so real that these poor souls couldn't know better.
Charles turned his back and intended to walk inside when an envelope was slotted into the hallway by the crevice beneath the door.
The letter had a purple wax seal in the front with the symbol of an eye.
Charles picked up the letter and opened the door.
"Mrs. Dawson, you don't really need to pay me more…"
His voice went silent as he stared into the long empty hallway. There was no one there and the woman from before had long disappeared.
"What in the world?"
Charles slammed the door shut again and walked inside. He held the envelope in front of a light to see what was inside. He was afraid that some of his past clients might try to take revenge on him.
But no, a piece of paper was outlined by the light. It was an ordinary letter.
"Hmmm. Maybe some rich bastard wants to ask for my help."
Charles broke the seal and opened the envelope.
December 24th, 2178. Naara City. Samael District. The Joker Club.
"And that's how I scammed the scammer!" The man nodded his head repeatedly and said in a humorous tone.
The audience beneath laughed out loud as he walked down from the stage.
"Good work out there, Hal. Here's your pay for today."
Hal grabbed the envelope and saw fifty credits inside.
"Fifty? The guaranteed amount is a hundred creds!"
"Sorry, Hal. But there aren't many people today."
"But we have a deal!"
"Well, you can try your luck in other clubs if you want. Not like you will have much success there either."
"Fine!"
Hal stormed out of the club with the envelope in his hand. The pay was so bad that it ruined his mood for the entire night.
Hal walked straight back to his small apartment and jumped into his bed, scrolling his phone.
"Fuck those clubs!" Hal said. But he knew it wasn't their fault.
Hal was trying to be a comic for a living. But he didn't have much success at all. He wanted to pursue something that he felt passionate about.
Hal thought that making people laugh was a good profession to go after. But he was very bad at it.
Hal glanced at the psychology degree being framed on the wall. He read people very well. He could easily dissect their reaction and behavior to know what was going on inside.
His psychology degree wasn't exactly a waste. But he didn't want to become a psychiatrist. That was just not his calling.
But reality hit him. He was good at reading people, not manipulating them.
Hal sighed and went to his jacket and took out the money envelope from the club. He might have to rethink his life decision very soon.
A second envelope fell out with the money envelope. It had the seal with the symbol of an eye on it.
"Huh? What is this?"
Hal took the envelope and opened it.