Rafa sat on a roof, rifle on his lap and legs over the ledge, swinging idly in the air.
With everyone out partying, shit was bound to be stirred and someone would have to do some "law enforcement" 'round here. That usually involved a lot more enforcement than law, just the way he liked it.
He hated being the responsible one, in large part because he wasn't. But he'd filled a plastic 2.5l detergent bottle with free beer and grabbed some meat -sure, it was vermin, but well seasoned vermin, and that made all the difference - from a vendor in the streets. So he sat there on the rooftops, nearly invisible to the people below, watching the rooftops and streets, quietly enjoying these rare moments of good weather, free beer and spicy meat.
He spotted the kid running through the streets from a mile away; constantly looking upwards instead of where he was going. The chico seemed in a hurry and almost exhausted.
Idiota will run into trouble in the form of a street tough holding a beer if he doesn't watch in front of him. What's he expecting to find up here anyway?
He let the thought swirl around in his mind. There really wasn't much you could reasonably expect to find up on the roofs here, he made sure of that. So there was only...
Me? Chico's gotta be crazy thinking he can find me like that... Looks important though. Ah, screw it, could use another rat-on-a-stick anyway.
He swung the rifle over his shoulder. The kid almost straight below, Rafa lazily jumped down to the streets and landed right in front of the startled boy. Halfway the jump his skin, hair and clothes had already started changing, the thousand-shades-of-gray urban camouflage quickly being replaced by gang marks on a brown cloak; dark black hair with silver highlights and brightly colored tattoo's of winding snakes, snarling dragons and scantily dressed women on his olive brown skin.
The boy had almost recovered from the shock of Rafa's sudden appearance and tried to speak when the drawing stopped and the movement began. The snakes and dragons suddenly started fighting each other and the women stripped to music that couldn't be heard; the boy watched it open-mouthed as if hypnotized.
"Whatcha want, muchacho?"
The kid snapped out of it, delivered the message, then asked for a light.
"A light? The drek's wrong with you chico? You're so out of breath from that running, I could hear your panting half a block away! You know what that shit does to your lungs?"
The kid eyes grew larger as it saw Rafa's forehead display the image of a pair of pink lungs, fading to brown and then black, finally turning into a black sludge that oozed down into Rafa's grinning lips. The boys response -or more specifically the lack thereof- was enough, so Rafael turned around, climbed the wall with the same ease as walking around a corner and vanished over the ledge.
On the roof, Rafa turned himself pitch black to capture as much warmth from the sun as possible and started in the direction of the dog pound, running and jumping roof to roof.
