Prologue: The Sly King

Omniscient POV

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"The cold night is my home. The lonely streets I roam. Sleight of hand is all I've known. Heads or tails? Flip a coin and gamble with my syndrome."

Beneath the disco ball of moonlight, in the venue of foothills belonging to the mountainous city of Mistral, a raccoon tail danced behind a Faunus man swinging his legs over a high rooftop. He spun an orange cap around his finger, whistling a merry tune at the lively crowd enjoying themselves in the market below.

However, when the closing hours for the many shops and merchant stands lining the cobblestone roads drew near, the sea of people began to tide away.

Excitement sought refuge in the raccoon's lips before it was concealed by the orange fabric around his neck. He tossed on his cap, swiped the rucksack and staff resting beside him, and made his way down to the top of a Dust store.

Not long after, a grate inside the Dust store tumbled over at the persuasion of the raccoon's boot, and he crawled out the ventilation duct, dirtier than the fluffy grey grains coating a grandma's antiques.

A silent alarm tripped the moment his feet touched the ground.

He popped open the distribution tubes on the walls like the cork on a champagne bottle ready to blow, pouring himself a celebratory toast of powdered Dust from every spectrum of the rainbow inside his canisters.

As he cracked open the locks on the display cases containing crystallized Dust and stuffed them in his rucksack, a flood of police cruisers surged towards his location. The faint sirens grew louder by the second, and when it finally reached his ears, the thieving raccoon groaned and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Bollocks," he said.

The thief collected his things and hopped out the front door, strolling over to the middle of the road where he was greeted by a couple of incoming cruisers.

That's when the party started.

He twisted his staff; parts unfolded, shifting and springing free a taut wire as it took the shape of an orange recurve bow.

Below the rucksack, resting at the bottom of his back, he drew a container double the size of a tissue box and attached it to the center of the bow. On the side, several buttons of different colours flashed bright. He hit blue, and a bullet shaped cylinder rolled out, bursting into a full length arrow that nestled in the crook of the arrow rest of the bow.

Nocked to the bowstring, he aimed and let the arrow fly.

The tip glistened a frosty hue as it sailed and erupted into an icicle spike strip in front of the vehicles, opening the show by dropping an explosive beat of tire booms and thumps.

The thief bowed and fled the market only to run into another cruiser as it jerked sideways at the last second, skidding to a stop in front of him.

The driver door cracked open. The thief kicked it back in, squashing the officer trying to get out. By the passenger side, another officer scrambled free, but the thief slid over the hood and bumped him off balance. The officer gave chase and suddenly tripped flat on his face while his rump stood up in the air, underwear out for the world to see.

Merry laughter fluttered from the thief's throat as he tossed away the officer's belt and continued his escape, jumping from one area of the mountain to another.

The chase lived to its fullest up, down, and around town, yet no matter what the officers did, they could hardly keep up with the playful thief parading the rugged terrain and routes denying their vehicles entry to the party.

This forced many officers to go on foot. Some of the lucky ones managed to bump into the thief by chance, finding themselves snared to each other with their own handcuffs while others were left to wander like fools searching for their belts.

However, things finally came to an end when the thief made a wrong turn into an alley and came face-to-face with a rocky wall. He swiveled around, but dozens of officers blocked the exit and held him at gunpoint.

"Nowhere to go now, Faunus," said a round bellied officer.

"Actually, it's Cooper, thank you very much." The thief tipped his hat and sold them a gleeful smile. "By the way, might I suggest you lay off the donuts before you become one yourself?"

"Shut up! We're gonna take you in, and I hope you struggle."

Cooper lifted a coin from his pocket and surfed it along the waves of his fingers. "That won't be necessary for me to get away from you lot."

Laughter contaminated the air.

Disdain curled the side of an officer's lips. "Just how exactly are you gonna do that?"

Cooper rubbed his thumb along a dial above the bow's grip, moving the indicator from medium to low, and the tension on the bowstring weakened.

"As a matter of fact," he flicked the coin high and smirked, "try not to miss it."

As every pair of eyes followed the stamp of metal sailing in the air, the raccoon tossed a red crystal at the floor between them, and with nothing more than a gentle pluck of the bowstring, he fired an ice arrow at it.

The whole area exploded in a steam cloud, and the officers swatted at the mist of fine wisps floating in their faces.

"Damn, what the hell did he do?!"

"Dust, I bet!"

"Hey, everyone alright?"

All units voiced a positive response.

When the smokescreen lifted, the officers gawked at the unoccupied spot where Cooper used to be. They scurried back to their vehicles, and after the last set of wheels rolled from sight, the raccoon thief materialized against a wall from out of thin air, spinning his cap on a finger

"Wow, they completely missed it." Cooper cracked an mischievous grin and tossed his cap on. "I love daft cops."

The bow straightened with another twist, and he skipped across the street, all the while twirling his staff and whistling a merry tune.