Perry had a gift for bringing misfortune to others. Much like some people are talented fighters or runners or can throw pieces of rubbish into bins far away, Perry was good at generating misfortune. Never to himself, unless you count the suffering of people around you as misfortune, which, i suppose if you are a normal empathetic person, you would.

Perry was inadvertently responsible for the death of his mother, father, brother, cousin, two friends, fiancée and two pet dogs. There were many more on his 'body count' but these were the ones that bothered him.

It took him a long time to fully understand the scope of his curse. After his brother died from being struck by lightning in the middle of a crowded festival, he developed a reputation of being cursed by the devil. And it wasn't until his two best friends and fiancée all died in the worst hot air balloon disaster of the year, leaving only him alive, was when he began to believe it himself.

He now lived alone, in the middle of the woods. Besides the insects and trees there was no living thing within a mile of him. As, naturally, anything that came close would be beaten by the stick of destiny until they ran off or died. Perry only ever left his solitary confinement when he needed money, over the years he had garnered a reputation as the most effective assassin in the world. Every target died; no suspicion ever fell on him.

He read through the letters; all were addressed to "Fate". That was his alias. He perused the pleas for murder until he found one that he liked. A mobster that had killed an important member of a rival gang. He always tried to only go after other criminals.

Perry got on the train heading for the city. As soon as he entered, he could hear things going wrong. Bag strings breaking, phones malfunctioning, birds slamming into windows. He had to change trains several times. He didn't want to risk a derailment.

Once he got out of the train, he took a taxi to the restaurant where the mobster usually spent time. It only took one flat tire and a gas up to get there. Perry hoped he could get this guy killed quickly, another reason he went after criminals was that their dangerous lifestyles led to more catastrophic misfortunes

He walked in calmly, hoping it would be empty, to minimize collateral damage. He sighed, seeing it was mostly crowded, but in the back, he identified his target. Luckily for Perry, there was an empty table right next to him. He gestured to waiter asking to be seated there.

As he sat down, he could almost feel the sinister fog of fate slowly acting on all the living being around him, it almost had a sense of delight like it were a child that had just found some new playmates.

A waiter carrying a bottle of wine tripped and fell near his target. "Hey, what the fuck is wrong with you." the mobster said. Standing up to get a better look at the damage, showing off his blue pinstripe suit.

"I am so sorry, I will clean this up." the waiter mumbled obsequiously.

"That was a 1960 merlot, you just broke, you stupid fucking monkey." the mobster yelled out. He paused and leaned down to eat a bit of a meatball and continued to berate the waiter. "I want you fucking gone, don't serve here anymore, I don't want to see..." he stopped midway, to grab his throat.

Here we go, Perry thought to himself. The men around the mobster all began to panic as it became obvious, he was choking on the meatball. His face started turning blue as one of the men attempted to do the Heimlich to free the lodged meat. After a few minutes, the mobster coughed out the meatball. God damn it, Perry thought, thinking it was going to be that easy.

"Jesus Christ!" the Mobster yelled, grabbing a napkin to wipe the sweat of his face. "Almost done by a meat ball, Johnny. Can you believe that?" the man named Johnny who had expertly performed the Heimlich just shrugged his shoulders. "That was crazy boss."

Two more hours, Perry sat at the restaurant. Three more bottles had broken, one more person had choked, and one person seemed to have gotten food poisoning. Perry could see the manager in the corner screaming at his staff for their perceived incompetence.

Finally, Perry got his break. Outside the restaurant a commotion grabbed his attention, there were some men, who also looked like gangsters. Pointing inside the restaurant, right at his target. From the looks of them, they didn't seem to be his friends.

Perry didn't have long to ponder, before machine gun fire rattled through the restaurant. It seemed that everybody around the mobster was hit. Perry fell on the ground, flipping the table and using it for cover. He looked over to see the mobster had taken a bullet in the head and was dead as a rock.

Sadly, he wasn't the only one, bodies were strewn across the floor. Perry considered standing up and trying to get himself killed. But he was too much of a coward, instead he slinked out of the back. Took a cab back to the station and made his way back to his isolated life. It only took four trains, one flat tire, one broken bag strap and one tree falling on the tracks.