Leo and Cleo had talked for a while and came to know a little more about each other.  Then their conversation came to a pause as the new girl moved towards the center of the room, draped in her hospital gown.  She walked straight over to the table, where she’d noticed the other cards. She looked again at hers, which she had been holding in the cusp of her hand, and had instinctively folded into a paper frog. She stretched her hand over the table placing the card down in front of her, and with her hand hovering over it, she unfolded the card as she had folded it. An expression of her ability which had become a type of tick. This almost spontaneous creation of small paper critters was the reason she shied away from note pads at work, and refused to carry paper money, lest it suddenly spring to life when she became uneasy. Of course she wasn’t showing her nerves at all, she always seemed emotionless, though she was often fighting a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings stirring within herself.

As the card flattened out he appeared, “Ms. Gardner, please join our other guests in making yourself comfortable,” he requested, and as she sat he continued. “I believe the rest of your group will be arriving in short order.” She recognized the older man from the hospital, though he appeared somehow different. She saw that the others had resigned to waiting, so she accepted the circumstance of the bizarre circumstances she now found herself in. the man soon vanished, and the younger man to her far right spoke.

“I’m Leo, and this is her lovely Majesty Cleo,” he teased, “we’re not twins or anything,” he added, seeing the nearly imperceptible expression of bewilderment. This expression was not so much on her face as in her eyes. Leo had always been really good at reading difficult people, and he was sure that was the question her eyes were searching to resolve.

“Like Cleopatra,” the seemingly shy girl remarked.

“No, not at all,” Leo teased.

“Just… Cleo,” responded the subject of this conversation, with only the slightest touch of disregard and exasperation in her manner and voice.

“Sorry…” responded Iya, curious if she had crossed some sort of undeclared line in the sand.

“You’re new, so ill forgive it… if that’s what you’re asking for,” replied Cleo, in a very ‘I’m tired of this conversation’ dismissive tone.

“OK,” said Iya.

“Well, that was getting tense,” Leo joked, and received a sharp look from Cleo for his effort. “OK,” he said softly… his tone mimicking Iya. She smiled just a bit, but mostly because he was smiling at her. She couldn’t really tell if they were sharing a joke between them or if she was being made fun of, so she chose to take it in good humor. “So, I guess you should tell me the story behind that gown.”

“Why?” she responded.

“Because I’m interested in you, and I can’t come up with a better way to get you talking,” he explained. “Its not like your outfit says a lot about you, other than that you might have an interesting story to tell.” Leo found that this direct approach often worked out well for him, even if it was a little jarring at times, most women found it to be intriguing on some level. Often they’d pause unsure how to respond, but after they were done being taken aback they’d want to know more about what kind of person he was. In exchange, he made sure they told him about themselves as well. He’d found that women actually loved talking about themselves so long as they had an excuse to do so. He’d guessed they needed to give themselves permission to open up. Though there were certainly those who told everyone everything, a habit he didn’t care for simply because it took the sport out of it. After all, this was something he was good at, he was a charmer, and he needed to feel like he earned it somehow.

“Fire…” she said, “there was a fire, then this.” She’d skipped a lot in the middle, but she wasn’t sure how much she wanted to share with them just yet.

Leo persisted in trying to get details out of her, or possibly spark up a conversation between the three of them. He’d found himself a pair of real difficult types but felt he had made some in-roads. However, it wasn’t long before another newcomer came walking in from one of the halls . As far as he knew, each of them had come through a different passage. He wondered if that was significant, but he knew answers were not likely to come just yet.

“How weird is this?” asked the young man, as he entered. “No GPS, but I still get internet. So whose little game is this anyway? Or is everyone here just a player? One, two, three, and I guess this makes four,” he said as he slammed his card down on the table. “Four cards, four players, and look at this…” he exclaimed with amazement as the man suddenly appeared, “so you must be the Game Master.”

“I’m glad you’re so enthusiastic… Ace, but I have to ask you to bear with us until the others arrive,” said the mysterious man.

“Sweet…” the kid replied, thrilled that the mystery man had used his hacker tag, “you’re the boss GM. This is it huh, not bad. Like you heard, I’m Ace. But its A.S.E., as in the All-Seeing-Eye,” he exchanged introductions with the group, clearly excited to be a part of whatever was transpiring. The man vanished as he did so. Then Ace put his phone down next to his card, pulled the bag from his shoulder, had a seat opposite Iya to the right of Leo, and pulled out his laptop. He was always more comfortable behind a screen of some sort. “Nothing… this must be a real discrete operation. There’s nothing substantial about this WyldCards thing anywhere. Can you imagine that. Anyone else wondering where we are exactly, because it ain’t on no GPS. I’m from Seattle by the way.”

“Chicago,” Iya volunteered.

“San Diego,” Leo followed.

“Miami,” Cleo offered finally, obviously curious about the implication of these revelations.

“I bet we’re underground,” Ace concluded, “though I can’t be sure where, or how we all got here.”