He feels a strange sensation. Something like a trump call, but something not like a trump call. Like a pulse almost. A jolt. Like an electric jolt pulsing through his body.
"Ouch." Casper says with a little groan. He sits up in his huge bed, kicking the silken red covers away.
That doesn't feel like a hangover or a regurlar trump call.
Click,click, he turns the light on revealing he is alone in his luxurious penthouse. The neon lights of the strip are still wrapped in dark, it's not morning yet.
Casper grabs the stack of cards sitting next to the bed and the leather band with his instrument of choice.
He waits for a moment to see if the feeling returns.
Bloody hell, whatever it is, it's annoying the shit out of me…
After the third pulse jolts him, Casper gets dressed, as least partially. Black fitted pants, fuzzy slippers, and a red bathrobe.
He flicks through his trump deck, checking to see if there is any unusual activity, or any positive trumps touching a negative one. (ha!)
Buzz. At first none of his trumps seem active. Buzz. Jolt. Snap. A pause. Then suddenly all at once all of his trumps seem active. That can’t be right? Can it? The buzzing fades and the trumps die down again. Buzz! This time he gets a shock from the trumps. Not a very pleasant one either - but not enough to hurt. His hand tingles as if he'd just wrapped it around an electric fence and his tongue feels like he just licked a 9 volt battery. The "trump call" from the "electric company" starts up again.
"What the hell?"
No way I'm going to try calling anyone when they are acting like that…
Casper throws the trumps to side for the moment.
A button is pushed, and a voice comes from a speaker.
"Yes Mr. Barrel?"
"I want eggs, bacon and orange juice up here pronto. Have someone warm up my DB9."
Crackle crackle.
"Yes sir."
He throws the robe on the bed and kicks the fuzzy slippers off his feet, hitting the knightly armor across the room in the crotch with a clank.
Score. Guess I better go talk to someone.
He dresses in his black suit, just throwing on his jacket as the food arrives.
"Thanks mate." He flips the cart pusher a twenty chip.
A few minutes after eating, he's going down the elevator to his private garage.
The modified DB9 is waiting, purring like a tiger.
Casper pulls out and makes the left turn onto the road marked ~Amber boulevard~.
He grimaces with every electric pulse, starting to making his way toward Amber.
A somewhat familiar voice speaks to him from the car’s radio. Reminds him strangely of that old tv show Knight Rider.
“Ar-ar-are you go-phtzz-swer me?”
The pulse hits him again, but it feels weaker now. In fact, he notices that the closer he gets to Amber, the weaker it seems to be getting.
Casper pulls onto the shoulder of the obsidian highway, a red two headed vulture looks down at his car from it's perch on the blue cactus.
He stares at the radio for a moment, a weird look on his face.
The next time the pulse comes, he tries to make contact like it was a trump call.
He connects. It feels odd. His brain is infused with a pleasant tingling sensation. He feels…minty fresh? That’s not right. Still. It is an odd sensation nonetheless. He sees a light at the end of a tunnel.
“I don’t feel so g-g-g-goooooood,” the voice ebbs and flows and static fizzes through the connection now and then like someone opening a can of soda pop.
Why does that voice sound so familiar? He’s associating it with Random for some reason, but it’s definitely not Random. Maybe someone Random had him make a trump of. No, that doesn’t seem quite right either.
"Do you need help? Are you sick?"
Who the hell is it and why is this contact so weird?
"You want me to come through?"