In spite of his agitation, Roy navigated the busy streets with an almost acrobatic performance. He hopped over obstacles, evaded pedestrians, and barreled across lanes and sidewalks. Malnutrition had done so little to deter his athletic body.
As he rushed through a crowd, he spotted a student with a smirk on his face, as though he had a god-given right to lord over anyone. He sported velvet hair and a few piercings here and there. He looked wild in a good way, Roy had to admit. A group of stooges trailed behind him like faithful dogs. He paid them no heed but when he was at arm's length from the boy, he felt something trip him over. He was then sent reeling over the pavement, hugging the items he bought as if they're worth more than the injury he suffered.
"Ha ha ha," "He heh he," HA HA HA!"
The group broke into a laughing fit. They patted each other and clutched their bellies, as though they just watched a comedy skit play out before them. Their leader, still wearing a smirk in his crimson crew cut, sauntered to Roy, who just clambered back to his feet.
"Watch where you're going, asshole," the boy said mockingly. He then spat on Roy's hard hat before swaggering away. The insignia of a King chess piece was stitched on his shoulder, highlighting that he belonged to the most prestigious school in the city - St. Granville High.
Roy was frozen in place. It only took him a few seconds to digest what transpired.
'Ahh. Scumbags like this really do exist, huh,' he said to no one in particular. He flicked the spit away with his cotton gloves then wore his hard hard. Pulled his dark glasses out from his vest and then pushed it over his eyes.
"What do I do?" He asked himself behind his dirty mask.
Roy picked up an interlock the size of a large fist, scattered across a pavement nearby. He weighed it in his hand. It felt rough and hard, and dangerous. Finally, he gathered all his strength in his palm and fingers then threw the interlock at the boy's receding figure. It flew straight like an arrow, crashing onto the boy's shoulder blade. Roy heard the crisp cracking of a bone accompanied by a gut-wrenching scream.
The boy keeled over, hugging his whole body through snot and tears. He saw Roy's figure lift his middle finger at him, standing defiantly among the throng of pedestrians. He stared deep at Roy's hard hat where a sticker was plastered. Before he blacked out, he garbled curses and a promise of revenge that failed to spill out.
When Roy arrived at his worksite, the area had already been barricaded off with warning tapes. A few top-of-the-line vehicles were parked by the roadside. He spotted two police officers, looking rather intimidating in their black uniforms.
Roy flagged the security guard at the checkpoint and he was let through without so much as a question. John had probably given his instructions in advance. As he went further down, he saw John discussing matters with a man in orange coveralls. It was Hansen, the client representative of Sungsam International. His hair was white as chalk down to his well-trimmed mustache. Fine wrinkles sketched his face, completing an image of a scholarly elder.
"Pssst! Roy!" A familiar voice called out to him, failing miserably to be covert. The police officers eyed them with veiled suspicion but did nothing in the end.
Roy jogged to where his friends were, clustering in a secluded corner of the worker's rest shelter, an improvised shed made of scaffold pipes then draped with green net. It was a haphazard protection against the elements.
"What took you so long?" Siddiq asked, dissatisfied.
"Didn't I say I was out to buy something?" He shoved the paper bag onto a jury-rigged table, along with a 1.5-liter Fanta. "You asked me this, right?" Roy asked.
"God bless you, brother Roy!" Siddiq exclaimed as he ransacked the paper bag. He gave one person each, an egg parotta and a cup of Fanta. As he took a bite, his eyes lit up. "W-what's this taste? Meat?"
"It's a special from Aunt Linda. Savor it. It will cost more next time," Roy waved him off.
"So tell me, Sanjaya, what exactly happened?" Roy questioned a man wearing a turban and a beard so long it reached down his belly button. He was the excavator operator who struck the EHV cable.
"It's not his fault," One of the nepali brothers, Sankar, answered in Sanjaya's stead. "That slacker George went goofing around somewhere again."
"That fat pig George did it again," Kumar nodded in agreement to his brother.
"He left his area? The hell is he doing during a critical excavation?"
It didn't take long for Roy to carry out his preliminary investigation until he grasped the entire sequence of events that led to the accident. George was the assigned foreman in Sanjaya's location, closely supervising the operator to mechanically dig safely. And just like his usual antics, George left his post again, leaving only the banksman to assist with the digging.
Sanjaya was a fool, too, for operating without the presence of George. However, if a threat in the form of termination of contract had motivated him to take risks rather than precaution, then Roy can only shut his mouth. He believed this to be the case.
Roy filled all the forms, written accounts of every concerned individual's point of view. Every person on Roy's team was illiterate other than him, so only he could pen their testimonies in a concise manner. He prayed Hansen would carry out an in-depth investigation, unearthing the truth through an evidence-based approach. Then it would only be a matter of time before George was raked over the coals due to his negligence.
"All done," Roy said, tucking the papers into a folder. "I'll submit this to John. He'll handle the rest from here."
"That's it? Aren't we getting interrogated in a cell?"
"Then, then, if we give the wrong answer, they'll torture us, or we get thrown to a deserted island?"
The twins voiced their doubts. Roy wasn't sure if they were serious or just trolling him.
"Stop watching Bollywood, you two. Otherwise, your brains will rot," Siddiq intervened, sneering.
"This is no time to be making jokes," Roy said in a stern voice. He then explained, "The worst that can happen is Sanjaya's termination after they make him the scapegoat. If they carry out a rigid due process, then fatty George will take the brunt as all accountability falls on him. John might get implicated too."
Roy drummed on the table, exploring the possibilities. "Knowing George, he doesn't read schematic drawings, do utility scanning or dig trial pits." All eyes were on him now. He cleared his throat. "Means our friend fatty won't be able to provide proof of him following safety protocols."
"You really are smart, brother Roy."
"Good thing we have you on our side."
The twins looked at him in awe. The look half-wit expressed to feign comprehension.
Siddiq lightly bumped his fist against Roy's shoulder. "I really wonder why you're here with rejects like us. You're more than capable of doing anything other than being a helper."
"Thanks, bro," Sanjaya tugged at his beard. A smile hidden behind a matted bush.
"It's not a foregone conclusion. Anything can still happen," Roy said, fighting the urge to cringe at the compliments.