Co-Written Anglers [Chase/Suhara]


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Long after the day ended and the midnight blue of the San Francisco waters began reflecting the city's glowing orange lights, a humid fog rolled in from the bay and amplified the horn of distant ships coming to port. Chase Devineaux, standing in front of a wavering lamppost, looked up to see haze form around dimming light sources.

"You were right about the weather," he said in a low tone, "I can credit that."

"I am right," replied a short silhouette nearby, "and I will continue to be."

Rustling in silence, the smaller form began to walk a slow and even pace down the seaside pavement. Reluctantly, Chase followed, and even more reluctantly, he stated, "I'm guessing we're here to buy fish."

Three steps later, his friend replied, "Perhaps, I expect good fish today."

Chase said nothing, and neither spoke until they reached the docks. Large ships were slowly unloading their catch to bins destined for conveyor belts.

"What are you thinking about?" The Japanese man asked his younger companion.

"Fish," definitively, Devineaux answered.

The amused shorter figure pressed, "What are you really thinking about?"

Chase hunched, putting his hands on the railing as he watched dead and dying sea creatures mercilessly thrown from one metallic bucket to another. Not all of them would end up on plates.

"Catching fish..." Chase said, "mostly."

The asker shifted in his stance, "I have heard, many men go fishing all of their lives... without knowing that it is not fish they are after."

Straightening himself, Devineaux tapped the railing, recognizing the quote, "Thoreau."

"Yes," said the older man.

"Don't need the prey, just need the hunt."

"And this... no ordinary fish that you are not after. You understand it more than even a seasoned angler like I... it is something unusual."

"I don't really get fish," Chase added, "and you're not an angler."

"I am a metaphoric angler of criminals," replied the Japanese with a smile in his eyes.

Rows of flash-frozen tuna made their way to a container, their colliding bodies produced loud, icy clangs. Chase waited until the noise paused before concluding the obvious, "We're not talking about fish anymore, are we?"

(Written back in a summer of some year with @Mikal as @Suhara. Since we were all talking about fish a while back, I had to post this up when I found it again. Commence the fish puns.)

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