The Fool's Gold

The 'W' Gold Card

Everything was confusing for Sultan, but he knew he needed to sort things out. He hated feeling in the dark or out of the loop, and this situation was muddling his mind. 

To clear his thoughts, he decided to take a moment alone to sort through his thoughts. He made his way to the restroom to get some privacy and peace of mind.

As Sultan stepped toward the restroom door, he heard Jerry call out to him. “Hey, why are you going there? Aren't you supposed to be on your way home or something? Are you planning to spend your whole day here?”

Sultan smiled at this, but it was a smile of feigned convenience rather than a genuine smile. “No, no, I just need to use the restroom,” he said. “And then I'll head home,” he added.

Jerry shrugged. “Oh, okay then. Whatever you need. Just make sure you're not taking too long, okay?”

Sultan nodded in response instead, his mouth dry. He pursed his lips as he turned the knob on the restroom door and walked inside.

Upon getting in, he rested his back against the tiled wall, exhaling in an attempt to calm his pounding heart. In his head, a single thought echoed over and over: ‘Everything's been different since I picked up that card.' 

With that thought in mind, he reached into his pocket and withdrew the purple tarot card once again. Gazing at it, he mumbled, “I don't know what to do with you. I don't even know what you are. But I can't deny that you're some kind of good luck.”

He couldn't even quite put his finger on what it was, exactly, but everything just felt...different, in a good way though.

Just as Sultan had spoken and as if the card heard his words, the image and words on the card began to shift again. The only thing that remained the same was the word, 'The Fool.' 

Instead of the coin, a treasure chest now depicted itself at the front of the card. And the words had transformed into a different message altogether. 

He read the card again, barely daring to believe what he was reading. “The answers you seek, you will get in the treasure heist.” He let out a shaky breath. 'What does that even mean?' he wondered.

Sultan felt like he was at a crossroads. Oh well, definitely he was at a crossroads. The card was telling him something, but he couldn't quite understand what it was. 

The only person who might be able to help him was the man he had met in the desert. He remembered the man's wise words, and he remembered that the man had been telling him something about being ‘The Fool’. But how could he reach the man again?

But just as Sultan was trying to make sense of all this, he heard a different voice in his head, a voice that seemed to come from his subconscious. “Why are you still wondering about that? You already know the answer! All you have to do is toss the card in the air again, like you did before. And then - poof! You'll be right there, in front of the man again!”

“Ugh!” Sultan groaned, annoyed, and then he replied to his subconsciousness, saying out loud, "Can you stop talking? Did I ask you? Busybody!"

Sultan groaned again but this time, in frustration. "Why am I talking to myself?" he muttered. "I'm starting to sound like a crazy person!" He felt silly for having carried on such a one-sided conversation with himself, and he started to wonder if he needed to see a doctor.

He groaned yet again and muttered under his breath, “Oh, God. I'm just going to forget about all this. I'll just put it at the back of my mind.” 

With that, he opened the door of the restroom and walked out, making sure to slip the tarot card back into his pocket as he went.

Just as Sultan was almost out of the restroom area, he decided to try to forget everything that had happened. But the weight of the tarot card in his pocket which didn't feel normal for a weight of a normal paper card, kept twitching. It was as if it was physically tugging at him, reminding him that the whole experience had been real.

Though, he did his best to dismiss the whole experience as a trick of the light or an overactive imagination. But deep down, he knew that what he had experienced couldn't be explained away by natural means. Something otherworldly was happening, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was only just beginning.

As Sultan rounded the corner of the restaurant, he nearly collided with another person. He let out a startled exclamation and jumped back, clutching his chest, “Oh, my God!”

The man who he almost bumped into was dressed in a sharp navy shade of blue suit that exuded an air of sophistication. Sultan couldn't help but wonder, “Is his suit a brand of Gucci, Versace, or what?”

Sultan was struck with a sudden sense of his own insignificance. He was just a regular guy, while the man before him was clearly a member of the city's elite. 

In a city as this one, City M, it was customary to defer to the rich and powerful, to bend over backwards to accommodate their every whim. Sultan knew that he was at the bottom of the social ladder, and that this man was high above him.

“I'm so sorry sir for my intrusion in your walk.” Sultan kept his head bowed and began to apologize profusely, as if begging for forgiveness. To his surprise, the man just laughed and said, "It's alright. No harm done." 

With that, the man turned and walked away. Sultan stood there, dumbfounded, as he tried to make sense of what had just happened. Was the man really that forgiving? Or was he not an elite?

Sultan couldn't help but blurt out to himself, "Well, this elite is quite pleasant, unlike those rude wealthy individuals who act as if they own the world." 

However, as Sultan glanced down, something caught his eye: the man's gold card, lying on the floor like a forgotten treasure.

Immediately, Sultan felt a sense of duty to return the man's card, and called out to him. But there was no response. The man had long gone. 

Sultan stood there, frozen, unsure of what to do next. He hesitated to go after the man, knowing the risks involved in possessing an item belonging to the wealthy. Should he leave the card on the ground or chase after the man? Fearful of potential accusations of theft, Sultan pondered his next move carefully.

Afterwards, while pondering the situation, Sultan felt a light nudge in his pocket. He sighed and muttered under his breath, "Not now, not now. Please stop doing this." 

He was fully aware that the "thing" he was talking to was the tarot card, which seemed to be growing more and more sentient by the minute. However, he couldn't let that distract him from his current dilemma which was how to find the man who had left the gold card behind.

Determined to do just that, Sultan headed towards the restaurant's exit, retracing the path the man had taken. 

As he was about to step outside, he saw Jerry coming towards him. Without missing a beat, Sultan said, "Hey, Jerry! Sorry, but I've got to head home for now. I'll see you at the party tonight."

Jerry smiled and replied, "You got it, Champ! See you there!" And then, as an afterthought, he added, "Oh, and by the way, the party's at 8 p.m. sharp!" 

Sultan confirmed the time and said his goodbyes. "Yes, yes, 8 p.m. See you there. Take care, Jerry." And with that, he headed out the door.

As Sultan made his way outside, he racked his brain for any information that might help him find the man. The problem was, he didn't know the man's name, nor did the gold card have any identifying details on it - just a large letter "W" printed in gold. 

Sultan had no idea what that meant, but he knew he had to find the man somehow and return his card.

Meanwhile, in another part of the city, a towering glass-and-steel skyscraper loomed over the streets below. Within its walls, in a dimly lit office, a man sat alone at his desk. The only light came from the glow of his computer monitor, which reflected off his body's back view.

The silence in the office was broken by the shrill ringing of the man's phone. He reached for it without hesitation and answered, "Hello, who is speaking?" 

Although his back was turned to the rest of the office, and he appeared to be focused on the view of the city outside the window, anyone could tell that he was a man of wealth and power. 

The furnishings of his office reflected his status, from the sleek, modern desk to the paintings that adorned the walls.

After a moment's pause, the man spoke again. "I'll be expecting Master Watson soon then, and I'd like you to do everything in your power to track down that card and apprehend whoever has it." 

As he spoke, his gaze remained fixed on the city below. His voice was calm and measured, but there was a sense of urgency in his words. He clearly wanted the matter at which he had at hand resolved as soon as possible.