Dallas: Where Click Kicks Ass and Bakes Bread

tubes|GM_wrote:
...
Another day, another dollar. Dallas isn't the best of towns, these days, but that also means that people aren't likely to question where you've come from or what you've been doing. Most people wouldn't consider midnight to be an ideal wakeup time, but for you, it's perfect. Most of your neighbors keep normal work hours, so your bizzare schedule keeps you from having to talk to them on most
days.

Teruzi joined the chat room.

tubes|GM_wrote:
Though lately, it seems they've been even more skittish. Who is this "Vigilant" that's been tagging your neighborhood? Hopefully not another gang. Lord knows the city has enough these days, what with the cartels making an offensive in the wake up all the recent chaos up north.
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pantherasapiens joined the chat room.

Belaris|Click_wrote:
…
I quickly silenced the alarm, got out of bed, and stretched. With one bleary eye, I glanced at the clock. 12:02 flashed in the darkness. Stifling a yawn, I wandered towards the shower, grabbing the snack bar from my bedtable. Ravenous, as always.

“Morning” duties accomplished, I fished the last of the stale loaves of honey pastry out of the cabinet, James’ specialty, and stacked some bologna from the fridge on top. Between bites, I checked the news on the laptop on the kitchen table. Crime still low, a burglary or mugging here or there. Higher elsewhere. More work to do.

I finished packing the knapsack, doublechecking the contents. Box of protein bars, check. Waterbottle, check. Pepperspray, available and easy to get to, check. Phone charged and ready, knife in the other pocket, check and check. I pulled the heavy leather jacket on over the usual bland t-shirt and wrapped the black bandanna around my face like an old style bandito, or gunslinger as I preferred it. I carefully applied the thick white facepaint everywhere left exposed in the mirror, the shocking contrast between top and bottom evident. On the way out, I glanced at the clock over the doorway. 12:56. Plenty of time.

After carefully descending down the stairs, keeping an eye out for any latecomers in from their Wednesday debauchery (? I never understood that, partying on a Wedneseday). Once I hit the street, I thought back to yesterday’s patrol. Calember Avenue had seemed a little rougher than usual, probably worth a visit. As I started down the sidewalk, I carefully slid into a form not quite human, with glistening plates starting to replace my clothing and the beginning of compound eyes forming in my sockets. I felt the apprehension, the nameless worry, expand around me, as I balanced on the knife’s edge and went on my way.
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tubes|GM_wrote:
You walk down the streets, empty as always. The one or two people passing by immediately hurry up upon passing you by, both becuase of your unsettling aura and the general fact that someone in black leather and facepaint is usually looking for trouble. You round the corner on the previously mentioned problem street, and immediately run into a problem. Three heavily tattooed men appear to have

a scrawny kid of about 13 years up against the wall. Thanks to your compound eyes and experience, you notice that two of the men appear to be packing heat, so to speak, with tell-tale bulges in the back of their pants. The third man has a knife pointed at the kid they've got up against the wall.
there's a can of spray paint on the ground, and the letter V I G I L on the wall, followed by a half-finished A
The men don't appear to have noticed you. ||

Belaris|Click_wrote:
…
I felt the shock shiver through my body, as I quickly shot up another two feet. The extra pair of inverted knees flex as I start moving forward, taking the extra weight of the new plating amid a swelling of the wrongness. Quickly gathering my self control before it went any further, I approached the group. “Gentlemen, do we need to have a problem?” I asked, fighting hard to hide the quiver of anxiousness in my voice. Confidence, I chanted to myself, preparing for anything and everything. ||

tubes|GM_wrote:
The man on the outside, turns to you, snarling, and then suddently taking a step back and reaching for his gun. He seems to steel himself once he has cold metal in his hand, and pulls the gun on you. "This is internal business, ese. I suggest you get the fuck outta here. Now." ||

Belaris|Click_wrote:
I stop where I am, one hand on my hip in what I hope is a confident pose. I slid a little more into it, the plates thickening and joining together, stiffening. Two splits appear in my torso and a pair of forelimbs pop out. They're accompanied by a rippling as more plating appears on my chest, my breasts dissapearing. Something shifts in my chest. Gutturally, I snarl “Anything happening in my hood is my business, ese”, leaning just a bit into the ‘ese’ to drive it home. “I don’t know if you know I am, but I’m bad news for you and yours.” I kept one eye focusing on the gun and another on the two men left against the wall. ||

tubes|GM_wrote:
The other two men have finally decided to see what all the hubub is about. Click's aura appears to be having an affect on them, as they immediately go for their weapons. The one holding the kid punches the kid in the stomach with what you see is a pair of brass knuckles, and immediately turns on you. "Raul, why you dealing with this bitch? Get her the fuck outta here!" The other man turns and
pulls his gun as the man with the brass knuckles stomps towards you and takes a swing with his brass knuckles at what he percieves to be your face. ||

Belaris|Click_wrote:
As the swing came in aimed at my torso, I swung my smaller forearm down to deflect the blow. ||

tubes|GM_wrote:
The alien limb is slow to respond to your attempts to work it, and you figure out the foreign reaction a smidgen too late, being knocked out of the way by the man's blow. It doesn't matter much, however, as he no-sells on your armored chest and is greeted by the fresh sight of what you truly look like, instantly gaining another two feet and numerous hideous protrusions.  He drops the knife in
his offhand, and falls over, scrambling to his feet and with a blood-curdling scream as he runs for the hills. The third gangbanger looks at you, who from his perspective just took a right hook to the face with no appreciable effect, and quickly follows him. The last man is feeling your aura full blast at this point, and the gun in his hand is shaking as he points it at you. "What the fuck are
you?! Who the fuck are you?!" ||

Belaris|Click_wrote:
“My name is Click. This is my hood.” I stride towards him, intending to get close enough to get him with a hard kick in the chin. I spare a glance for the kid, still on the ground but relatively unhurt. As I move forward, I add to the man, almost an afterthought, “You should leave.” ||

tubes|GM_wrote:
Your voice comes out flagned and sibilant. The main slowly backs away as you approach, and as you get within arms reach he drops the gun and runs for the hills after his friends. ||

Belaris|Click_wrote:
I stop moving, watching the man run into the night. I finally let myself feel the twanging and singing nerves in my chest, tense from the built up stress. I breathe in and out, shakily at first, then smoother, “Easy now, we made it through”, I say under my breath, as much for my sake as the kid’s. I feel the plates slide away and the extra arms retreat as whatever had happened inside my chest undoes itself. When I finally feel the pall of wrongness fade away, I turn to the kid, offer him a cocky, slightly shaky smile, and say, “Come here often?”
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tubes|GM_wrote:
The kid sits up as you approach. He's a little older than you first thought, maybe around 14-15, but is clearly scrawny for his age, hence your previous incorrect hypothesis for his age. "Only about as often as you. Did you get my message?" he says, as he looks up at the unfinished message on the wall. ||

Belaris|Click_wrote:
...
I glance at the wall as well, missing my compound eyes’ field of view already. “I don’t know about a message,” I said, choosing my words carefully, “but I have seen your handiwork. Need something?” ||

tubes|GM_wrote:
The kid struggles to his feet, wincing as he stands. He was roughed up a little by the gangbangers before, and he's got a split lip and what will probably be a nasty black eye in the morning, among other things. "Well, you've certainly sent a message to the whole neighborhood. You're not exactly subtle when you're walking around, you know. Those dickheads didn't get the memo, though, so I
figure i'd reinforce it." ||

Belaris|Click_wrote:
I dig through my knapsack, saying distractedly, “That is the point of my ‘walking around’, as you say. Wouldn’t work as well if it wasn’t obvious.” As I finish the statement, I pull out what I was looking for: a black bandanna scrunched up inside a handful of protein bars. I extricate the bandanna and start to go to wipe his lip with it, freeze, and end up awkwardly offering it to him. “For your lip”, I say lamely, “Don’t want you bleeding out after I went to all that trouble?” ||

tubes|GM_wrote:
He ignores her previous awkwardness and takes the bandana and holds it to his bleeding lip. "I've had worse," he says, "and I don't think i'll bleed out from a split lip. But thanks anyway." He pauses awkwardly himself for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. He seems to be a little confused by your rather mild personality, after that impressive display just now, and a little starstruck
as well.
"I know I didn't exactly ask permission, but I was hoping to help. I wanted to make sure those guys got the message and stayed out. You...scare people, walking around with whatever it is you do."
"Not that that's a bad thing!" he quickly adds. "But maybe if they went away you wouldn't have to be scary so often and wouldn't have to walk around at night." He finishes lamely. ||

Belaris|Click_wrote:
...
“Well.” I’m taken aback by the sheer honesty of what the kid’s saying. Buying time, I say “I don’t mind the night so much, I’ve always been a night owl…” It really is amazing, that the kid would have so much drive that he would go out and tag dangerous streets at night just to help me out. Or he’s an idiot. I cast an appraising eye over him. Not getting an idiot vibe. Interesting… “Hey kid, what’s your name?” I mumble around the mouthful of protein bar I hadn’t even realized I was eating. Man, I’m hungry.
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tubes|GM_wrote:
"Ron." The kid looks a little sheepish, seemingly embarassed by his previous outburst.
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Belaris|Click_wrote:
...

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Belaris|Click_wrote:
“Well then, Ron, I figure you should know that I appreciate your help and all, but it’s pretty dangerous out here at this time of night.” Quickly, I add “I really like your idea, though, with the gang sign, and I hope you don’t mind if I borrow it!” I nudge the paint can with my toe, thinking quickly. I liked him, but I couldn’t just open up to anybody who helped me out here. I had an idea… “I’m gonna have to ask you to stop coming out at night, and if you did this with others, tell them I said stop too. I might, however, need your help with something less dangerous in the future…”, trailing off suggestively before finishing, “Can I get your number? I’ll let you know if something comes up you can give me a hand with, and you can get me the word on the street that no one will give the scary lady who walks in the night.” I smile encouragingly around the third protein bar I’ve shoved into my mouth tonight.
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tubes|GM_wrote:
The kid looks downcast as you tell him he should stop vandalizing things, but then perks up when you tell him you'd like his phone number. He pulls out what appears to be a map, tears off a corner, and quickly scribbles it down. He notices that you spotted it, quickly adding "I was, uh, keeping track of my tags. And your patrol routes." Having finished writing, he hands you the number. "If
that's what you want me to do, i'll stay off the streets. But call me if you need help!"
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Belaris|Click_wrote:
I take the piece of paper and slip it into my pocket. No point putting it in my phone when I’ll be texting him through a burner later. With that taken care of, I finish off the last protein bar I pulled from my knapsack and start to walk down the street in the general direction of the bakery. I sweep up the dropped gun and knife on my way past them, ready to drop them into the nearest storm drain. As I saunter away, I offer a wave over my shoulder and shout, “Take care! I’ll be in touch!”

The rest of the walk to the bakery was relatively without incident. After quickly checking the street to make sure it was deserted, I darted into the alley behind the shop. I used my key to let myself in, and cleaned off the facepaint in the bathroom. I eyed my shirt, now with two new holes on the sides from my temporary arms, and switched it out for a spare I kept in the locker. I stashed my jacket and bag in the same locker and fired up the ovens. It was time to work.
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tubes|GM_wrote:
Another night, another good deed done. Hopefully that kid wouldn't turn into a liability, but it was good to know at least someone appreciated her efforts. ||||