"Dad? Mom?"
James called out into the empty home, and the empty home did not respond.
Carefully, James took a step past the threshold of his broken front door and into the living room. It still looked like the aftermath from a hurricane. James looked past the living room into the kitchen.
Cupboards, drawers, oven, fridge doors, all open. Plates, bowls, and cups smashed into a porcelain wasteland all over the floor. The trash had been ripped open and the remains of yesterday's dinner splattered against the wall. Pots and pans upended and carelessly thrown around.
The rest of the little apartment had not been spared either. There were only two other rooms, and one small bathroom, and each looked worse than the other. Books torn and littered. Both his and his parents' mattresses had been cut open in several places and flung against the wall.
Even his little piggy bank, with painstakingly saved change over his eighteen years of life, had been brutally murdered and lay in pieces amidst its innards.
"That's weird," James thought, "It looks like all the money is still there."
In fact, now that he thought about it, it looked like nothing had been taken from the house. Broken, torn, ripped, vandalized, even violently misplaced, sure, but not stolen. Other than his parents, James did not notice a single thing missing. It would take a really long time to clean up though, and many things needed replacing. Definitely not something he could achieve with only five hundred dollars.
"Oh well. First step is to call the police and figure out what happened," James sighed.
He stepped over to the front door and maneuvered it carefully so it was as shut as it could be. As the door was rotating on its hinges, James noticed a small post it note stuck to the back of the door, with some scribbles that looked like his father's handwriting. He picked it up and looked at it. Maybe this would provide an explanation. Surely there was some kind of emergency, and they would be back soon...
"O has Mom. Joker in Dummy. Get away. #02-05, 1116."
None of that made any sense. Except for that last part. One thing was for sure, something was desperately wrong.
James booked it out of the house with the backpack still on his shoulders and sprinted down the stairs. As James ran down the stairs, he started noticing the numbers written on top of the other apartment doors.
...Fifth floor, #05-01 to #05-05...
...Fourth floor, #04-01 to #04-05...
...Third floor, #03-01 to #03-05...
...Second floor #02-01 to #02-05...
James stopped momentarily on the second floor. Could the last part of that note be that simple?
Running quickly over to the door under the #02-05 sign, he noticed an electronic keypad in the door instead of the standard physical key.
1, 1, 1, 6... BEEP.
The door unlocked and James pushed his way into a small studio. It was furnished simply, with a couch, a computer chair, and a desk with a couple of monitors attached to a computer. James walked over to the desk and sat down before trying to start the computer.
[Please enter password...]
"I knew it wouldn't be so simple."
James looked around his surroundings closely. Maybe his dad had left another hint behind on his password. The desk was a simple wooden desk made out of oak, and had only one drawer. To James' surprise, the drawer was unlocked when he tried it. However, the drawer contained only a single sheet of paper, with what looked like a letter on it.
---
Dear James,
If you're reading this, I'm either dead or you've followed me somewhere you shouldn't have.
Since the former is far more likely, I think I owe you an explanation for how austere and simple our lives have been so far.
First, I'm sorry.
Just after you were born, I happened to find a miraculous system which started me on my current path. I'm not actually a vagrant with no job. I work as a professional gambler playing poker online, and have been very successful. However, I have kept my winnings invested into my profession and have only taken out enough money from my bankroll to survive. It is my hope that with enough hard work, I will someday be able to openly stand at the top of the poker world and give you and your mom the life you deserve.
---
James' eyes started blurring, and he blinked rapidly as he continued to read the letter.
---
Given that you're here, you must have access to my will and the things that I have left behind. Among these items is the source of the wondrous system that I spoke about earlier. It looks like a simple playing card, but the truth is much deeper. I have not been able to unlock much of its secrets thus far, but perhaps you will have better luck than I do.
If you choose to follow my path, all you need to do is hold the card for a minute and you will be able to understand my decision. If not, please destroy it. The power it holds is much too complex for our world.
I trust you will make the right choice for yourself.
With love,
Your Father.
P.S. Please take care of your mother. She is a wonderful woman who is more than I deserve, and has borne more than her fair share of the load in raising our family.
P.S.S. If you decide to follow my path, you may use this room as you wish. I bought this place using a shell corporation that has no link to our family, and it should keep you safe while you ascend to the top.
---
James sighed heavily and sat back in the chair.
Suddenly, things seem to make sense in his world. His dad did not spend all his time at home wasting his life away. Instead, his dad would sneak down to this room while he and his mom were at school and work. No wonder they never went hungry, but there was no room for luxuries in his life. Whatever the gambling system was, it must have consumed his dad's life.
"I wonder what card Dad was talking about..."
James thought back to the scribbled note that was left on the back of the door and took it out of his pocket.
"O has Mom. Joker in Dummy. Get away. #02-05, 1116."
The first part was obviously an explanation for why no one was at home, and the last part made sense given the events of the past few minutes. Clearly "Joker in Dummy" was an important clue.
Joker clearly referred to the playing card that his dad was referring to. In every deck of cards, there were 54 cards. Thirteen value cards, running from Ace to Ten, then Jack, Queen, and King, of four suits, hearts, diamonds, clubs, and spades. In addition to those 52 cards, most decks included two jokers. His dad must have been referring to one of those two jokers.
What did "Dummy" mean? It was capitalized, so it had to refer to something rather than an actual model figure. Could it be the book he had taken from his dad earlier in the day?
With a start, James dug the book out of his backpack and flipped through the pages. As he reached the middle of the book, a small playing card fell out from between the pages and landed on the desk in front of him.
"JOKER"
Unlike all the other cards he had seen before, this card had the Joker fully colorized and drawn like a tarot deck. He looked at it closely.
Wait. Did the joker just wink at me?
James went back to the letter his dad had left him and read the instructions more closely.
Hold the card for a minute. Was that all?
James started counting, "One, two, three.... fifty-eight, fifty-nine..."
Before he could count to sixty, there was a bright flash of light and the card launched itself at James' forehead. James felt himself thrown backwards out of the chair and onto the floor.
Then, things went black...
---
Meanwhile, somewhere further away, two mysterious figures could be heard having a conversation.
"Did the kid take or touch anything?"
"No sir. The video shows that the kid came home, looked around, and then left the house after closing the door."
"What a shame."
"Do we need to pick up the kid? He can't have gone far, and he doesn't have a place to live."
"No, that's fine. We have the wife. The husband will come to us of his own free will soon and we can get our answers from him. As for the kid, we'll let the streets take care of him. The problem will handle itself. No need to waste resources on someone so insignificant like that."