#shark devil

the city is loud. always has been.

a man crushes a cigarette but under his polished work shoes, exhaling deeply before crossing a street. a crow caws for a few moments before being scared off a traffic light's pole by an oncoming truck, even if it won't get hit by it. someone spills coffee down their new suit and swears to no one in particular.

the sun that makes your skin shine slick with sweat that rolls uncomfortably into your eyes somehow is covered momentarily by a cluster of clouds across the painfully blue sky.

next to you, your partner only adds to the noise of the city, mumbling words you can't quite make out, his mouth muffled by the rooftop pavement. only part of his head sticks out, and, thanks to him, most of your patrols take place above ground, just in case an observant child or terrified mother points out the fin on beam's head swimming through the streets.

great. only a little closer to the sun, really. only a little more exposed to the summer's heat and humidity. really, it's not much. only a set or two more of clothes to wash at the end of the day. only a few more droplets of sweat that sting your eyes and taste like salt and filth on your lips.

really, it's not that bad.

the sun comes back, blaring over the entire city. you swear you can hear the groans of salarymen and cafe workers in the streets below harmonise with your own.

eventually, you stop walking, taking a break to wipe the beads of sweat forming at your forehead. man.. how long has it been? is the patrol finally done? it feels like it's been more than four hours, but the sun's still just as high in the sky as it was before you started.

in the distance, you spot a series of dark clouds that drifts slowly towards where the two of you are patrolling.

finally, you think.

you sit down on a nearby air conditioner vent that sticks out of the roof of the building you're on. there's no point in patrolling, and if it rains, maybe you'll get to leave a bit earlier.

when the clouds finally do come, they block out the sun almost entirely, which alone makes the afternoon a lot more bearable.

beam, who is still mumbling and is unaware that his words are almost completely incomprehensible through the concrete, notices that the sun is gone and finally sticks his entire head out of the roof.

"rain!! water!!"

he looks around as a few droplets start to leak out of the bluish grey clouds, people on the streets underneath starting to run for cover or reach for umbrellas as the clouds empty further, turning into a somewhat heavy drizzle.

you watch him out of the corner of your eye, having not moved from where you sat earlier as he swims around in the roof, delighted by the cool water. how naive. how happy. it seems simple to be a fiend.

your hair and uniform starts to get soggy, but it's arguably better than the sweat that they shone with earlier. it's cold, anyways. which is always better than the heat of the sun.

beam seems happier whenever there's water around. in the few months you've been his partner, you've noticed that whenever it rains or you two get assigned to a mission or patrol near a body of water, he becomes more excited and lively.

well, he is the shark fiend. makes sense that he likes water.

"look! puddles!! more water!" beam exclaims, diving up from the surface of the roof into the air, then back into a puddle, which splashes water on him and all around him.

at this point, neither of you want to continue or finish the patrol at all. i mean, it would be alright if you reported back and lied a little about the rest of the patrol. you only had to cover a few more streets anyways. and it wouldn't be a complete lie, after all, the two of you did patrol half the city earlier in the blazing heat.