Chapter 16: The Wheel Of Fortune Turns Another Way

You know, there's a few things you readers should know about my writing practice. First of all, I barely even plan where my stories go. I only work around a central idea, and how the story should end. Other than that, I barely do any planning. In other words, the Stephen King approach to story writing. Secondly, I always make it a point to subvert audience expectations. It's the advice Hayao Miyazaki goes by when he make great anime. I think it's worked so far. Anyway, keeping those facts in mind, let's get to the story, huh?

xxx

Perry was huffing and puffing as he pedaled his bike down the sidewalk. Those pizzas strapped to the frame sure were making it hard to steer. Well, if there was a bright side to all of it, it was that at least getting his White Fang brethren their pizzas might improve his status within the group. Because, currently, he wasn't exactly on a high rung on the social ladder. If Perry had to guess, it was because Roman treated him comparatively better than the others. He had heard rumblings among his peers that he might be a race traitor. Now, that simply wasn't true. So, Perry was pretty desperate to prove otherwise, and he needed to everything possible to placate his associates.

Wiping the sweat away from his forehead, Perry felt the back of throat dry up. Man, he could use a drink. He'd been out on the town all day without a break. After all, it was a tedious task to get food for everyone back at the warehouse. Man, he could use a drink.

He scanned the street, looking for any place to buy a drink. He was in the mood for a cola right now. With ice. The thought alone made him pedal faster. Ah, now there was a place! There was a café just up ahead!

Perry slowed down his bike as he rolled closer to the café. Skidding to a halt, Perry halted in front of a bike rack. However, as he climbed off the bike, his eyes couldn't help but be drawn to a different type of bike. The motorcycle parked in the space in front of the café sure was a feast to the eyes. The yellow paint… the custom hand grips… oh man, those were handmade gauges mounted on the top! Whoever owned this bike seriously took pride in it. Perry would as well, if he could actually afford a work of art like that.

Sighing whimsically to himself, Perry undid the bindings holding the pizza to the bike. Letting down the boxes to the ground, Perry reached into his pocket and pulled out his bike lock. Once he was sure that his bike was safely fastened to the pole, Perry hefted up the pizzas and walked inside the café.

As he stood in the entrance, he saw that, for the most part, the café was empty. Well, except for that one group sitting at a nearby booth. It was kind of a big group, too. It was six people stuffed into a booth, happily chatting away.

Shaking the distraction out of his mind, Perry walked up to the counter to wait to be serviced. Soon enough, a young man in a chef's outfit walked up to the counter.

"Hi! How can I help you?" the man at the counter politely asked.

"Uh, can I get a drink? A cold cola?" ordered Perry.

"Sure! That'll be six lien, please," the server said. Nodding, Perry took his credit card out of his pocket and handed it to the server. He'd already used it to buy all these pizzas, so adding a soda on top of it was just a drop in the bucket by comparison.

Once the server scanned the card, he handed it back to Perry. "Go ahead and take a seat. I'll be right with you!" he advised.

"Alright," Perry quickly mumbled before turning on his heel and walking away.

Looking around, there were plenty of places to sit. But, it would be weird if he just say by himself in some corner. He didn't want to look like some weirdo loner pizza deliveryman. If he wanted to keep his remaining social status up, he had to look not afraid to be around people. So, the booth next to that one group was the obvious choice.

Perry dumped the stack of pizza boxes on the table and slid into the seat. Before long, the server walked up, holding a nice, ice cold cup of soda. Giving a brief smile to the server before he walked away, Perry eagerly began to slurp the soda through it's straw. Ahh… now that felt good running down the back of his throat.

As he kept on sipping the caffeinated beverage, he couldn't help but overhear the conversation happening behind him. It wasn't like he had much of a choice. After all, the guy doing all the talking at the moment wasn't exactly being very quiet.

"—And so, he fell for it, like some fuckin' putz!" the guy behind him boasted before chuckling.

"So, what did you find out?" Perry heard a high pitched girl's voice ask.

"Well… Junior spilled the fuckin' beans, all right. Someone bought a shot ton of bomb parts. I think he said… five?" the guy reported behind him.

That got Perry's attention. Bombs? Someone was going to blow something up? Now that was interesting. Now curious, he began to pay closer attention to what the people at the other booth were talking about.

"What else?" a masculine, but laid back voice asked.

"Well," the guy doing the talking said, in a not-so-low whisper, "Apparently Roman Torchwick's in on it. Like, balls deep."

Perry heard a few small gasps come from the people sitting at that booth. He himself was only barely able to stop himself from gasping. Now that was quite a shock. Roman Torchwick? Bombs? That could only mean one thing: the White Fang's plan was found out! This was bad. Very, very, bad. Just how in the hell did some random people find out about the bomb plot? At least Perry was fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time to overhear this horrible discovery. It was as if fate or chance had guided him here, to hear this news. But, now wasn't the time to dwell on ideas about casualty. He needed to warn the others, pronto!

Perry began to sweat uncontrollable. Wiping away the beads of perspiration from this dark bangs, he then readjusted his glasses and began to chug his soda. He needed to finish his break quickly! His Faunus comrades' plans were in danger!

Draining his cup of cola, Perry tried the best he could to calmly slide out of his seat at the booth. Unfortunately, he tripped over his own foot in his hurry to get out of his chair. That got the attention of the group that he'd been eavesdropping on.

"Oh shit!" the blonde haired guy who'd been talking exclaimed. Wait, he had a tail! He was a Faunus too! Was he a traitor to the cause?

"Hey, you alright?" the high pitched girl in red immediately asked, looking at Perry.

"Need some help?" the well dressed, laid back guy added in.

Perry quickly waved himself away. "No, no, I'm f-fine. Thanks for asking," he swiftly excused.

As he picked himself up from the ground, Perry hoped that he looked calm enough. After all, he'd been told in the past that he had a bad poker face. Luckily, it didn't look like the group staring at him had noticed his internal panic.

Standing straight, Perry grabbed the pizza boxes off of the table and hefted them into his grip. With the pizzas in tow, he quickly walked his way out of the café, and onto the street. He needed to do everything quickly. There wasn't a minute to spare! As fast as he could, Perry strapped the pizza boxes onto his bike and undid the lock.

Now that his bicycle was freed from the pole, Perry hopped on. He began to pedal as hard and fast as he could down the sidewalk. He didn't even care if he wasn't obeying proper sidewalk etiquette. He needed to get this news to the others, ASAP!

xxx

Later, back at the current base of operations for the White Fang (and tenuously accepted human help), Roman and Neo were back to doing what they were used to doing during the day. Namely, accomplishing almost nothing of importance. After all, they had lackeys now. Roman didn't need to build that bomb himself. He'd just gotten some flea-bitten mongrel to build the five bombs for him. As of current, he'd resorted to longing around in his office, shopping for suit accessories on his computer.

Neo, meanwhile, was also in the office, but doing something decidedly more deadly. She was playing around with her new double tomahawk. After all, a girl just couldn't use the same tricks all the time. Sure, the parasol of pain was fine, but it she was beginning to feel that it was a bit… expected. And, when it came to killing, being expected was almost a death sentence. So, in the spirit of that idea, Neo was enjoying herself by hurling her new toy at the cork pin board.

All of the sudden, someone crashed through the office door. Roman groaned and looked up from his computer screen. Who would just barge in someone's office like that (other than Queen Beetch and her dumb drones)? Oh, wait, it was just Perry. Actually, his appearance was good. Not only was he carrying a bunch of pizzas in his hands, but Roman could use his opinion on something.

"Ah, Perry, glad you're here," Roman half-sneered. "Do you think this scarf would look good with my coat?" Roman then turned around the computer monitor to show Perry what he was talking about.

Perry couldn't help but internally question this turn of actions. He didn't have time to give fashion advice! Especially on scarves that looked almost completely identical to the one his superior was currently wearing. But, if he told Roman off, there was no way he'd heed his warning. So, begrudgingly, he had to play along with him for now.

Placing down the pizzas on Roman's desk, Perry observed, "Isn't that the same color as the scarf you're wearing?"

Roman scoffed at the mere notion of that. "Please! This scarf is pumice. That one is slate. Pfft, of course a plebian like you wouldn't get it."

Perry couldn't help but furrow his brow at Roman. He didn't need this! The sake of the whole operation now relied on him telling this news to the right people! "Sir, anyway, I got—"

All of the sudden, Perry could feel a rush of wind above his head. Holy shit, was something thrown at him?! Looking at the offending object, Perry gaped when he saw that a double tomahawk was buried in the wall just past his head. Looking back in the direction it was thrown from, he saw Neo, not-so-innocently smiling.

"Seriously, Neo?" Roman chided. "Double tomahawks aren't boomerangs, you know! Now, get it out of the wall, or I swear to GOD I'll sell you to carnival!"

At that, Neo glared at Roman, but complied with what he ordered. Unfortunately, she lacked the height to actually reach the tomahawk. An embarrassed blush formed around her cheeks and nose as she dragged a chair over to the wall to stand on. With an odd sounding, strangled grunt, Neo yanked the double tomahawk out of the wall and tossed it on Roman's desk. With a huff, she finally plopped her rear in the seat to sit down.

"Barbarian…" Roman grumbled under his breath. Then, turning his attention back to Perry, he said, "What, you're still here?"

Strained, Perry tried to report on what he had heard. "Sir, I've got bad new—"

"I mean seriously, I don't need to hold your hand, do I? Or should I just pick up after you?" Roman snarked.

Perry couldn't take this anymore. All that was left for him was to snap. "We're SCREWED, sir. Completely screwed!"

Roman was silenced by the sudden outburst. "Heh?" he muttered.

"Someone sold you out! I overheard some people say they KNEW you have bombs! Our cover's gone! We're FINISHED here!" Perry ranted.

Roman stroked his cheek in thought briefly. Then, calmly, he asked, "Can you tell me who knows?"

"What?" Perry panted, finishing his rant.

"Descriptions, boy," Roman glowered.

Perry tried his best to remember. To be honest, in his rush to deliver the news, he didn't pick up on anything that would easily distinguish who'd gotten that info. Perry could only remember a few glaring details.

"Uhh…" Perry mused, "I think the guy talking about it had blonde hair… And a tail! A monkey tail!"

Roman gave pause. He's seen someone with that description before. But, he needed to know for sure. "Did he have his shirt unbuttoned?" he flatly asked.

"Err… I think so? I guess…" Perry muttered.

It was just as Roman thought. That one monkey kid from a few months ago was coming back to finish the job. And as if stopping that dust robbery with his cat-eared girlfriend wasn't enough. If he had to guess, she had probably something to do with it. It just stood to sense, after all.

Standing up, Roman put on his signature cocky grin. Reaching over, he patted Perry on the shoulder. "Thanks for telling me," he said with his normal smug tone. "I'll take care of it. This wouldn't be the first time I had to deal with this crap…"

"H-how, sir?" Perry couldn't help but ask.

"Well, let's say I got the perfect plan for nosy people. Now, if you'll excuse us, Neo and I need to get it just right," Roman said, trying his best to sound reassuring.

Perry, being the person he was, fell for it. He let out a breath of relief. "Whew. Well, if it save the cause, I'm all for it."

"Good, good. Now, go. Leave. And take the pizzas with you." Roman ordered while picking up the pizza boxes and shoving them in Perry's arms.

"I'll get them to my comrades, sir!" Perry announced. He didn't even mind that Roman was now shoving him out of the door. He felt perfectly accomplished currently.

"I know you will," Roman said before shoving the White Fang lackey out of the door and slamming it shut.

Turning to Neo, who had been listening to the entire conversation, Roman began to wring his hands together. The leather of his gloves squeaked together as the two stared at each other, realizing that the inevitable was arriving.

"…?" Neo asked.

"Right. Start packing it up," Roman ordered.

Walking over to the office safe, the well-dressed thief casually spun the dial, undoing the combination lock in a few seconds. Taking out a leather case, he opened it to check it's contents. Yep, the stacks of lien he'd made from selling the stolen dust to the White Fang were still there. At least he'd been able to make some money under the table before this joint got found out.

Behind him, Neo began to rifle through the file cabinet, taking out crystal after crystal of purely cut dust. It was the expensive type too. It would fetch more than a pretty penny on the black market.

All in all, it was a good thing the duo of Roman and Neo knew when to fold. Because, as of now, they were getting ready to leave the White Fang and Cinder's group to the cops.

After all, any good thief should be able to get in and out in a moment's notice.

xxx

As you might be able to guess by now, the main theme of this story is chance. Or luck or casualty, whatever you want to call it. More specifically, that luck can swing either way, and sometimes shit just happens in completely unexpected ways. Blame the Random Number God for that. And let that be a lesson to you: never use dice to divine the future. Anyway, with any luck, I'm sure that you'll leave me a good review, right? I mean, that chance exists.

This is The Draigg, and I'm taking the chance to leave now!