(2019-02-28) Cold Night in Greektown
Cold Night in Greektown
Location: Back Ally, Greektown
Summary: Vanguard confronts a collector of Johnny Slick
Date: Feb 28th, 2019
Related: None

Cold. That's Detroit in winter in one word. Its later in the night, lately its been mid teens at least. Not single digits or negative at least. There is white snow on the ground, over a little ice. There has been some late night flurries recently giving it a little powder covering that blows around to gather in corners, but at least tonight its clear.

Greektown, a hot spot of night life thanks to the local casinos and, a hot spot for crime following binges of gambling. Larceny, theft, worse. Not more than 8 or so weeks into the year and the reported crime is hitting 3 per week. That doesn't account for unreported crime.

A good place to look for trouble, if that's what one was after. Its a few blocks from the people mover station right now, a back ally, tucked between an outlying old brick building in the Bricktown style and a newer concrete number painted up like the more modern renovations of Greektown. That doesn't matter in the ally though. What matters is that Nik's, a local small gyro joint, is closed and the owner is closing up. One small light in that ally he steps into, clicks and clinks of his keys locking the door and he turns about.

There is a gunman there, "You're past due Nick, fork over what you owe or fork open the door and let me collect what's due." The gunman demands, his breath rolling out with each word in the cool air, collecting shadows in it from that one light; its that cold.

Nik puts his hands up, and replies, loudly, "Look, I can give you some but I ain't got it all." Its clear, he's probably casting his voice in the hopes some passerby on the main street hears him.

Dante Anderson, known in the streets as the Vanguard (in secret) Was out on his nightly patrol. Not bothering with brooding on rooftops and simply walks through the street. He wears a brown leather long coat with a simple black shirt and dark blue jeans. Boots on his feet. To help conceal his identity, he wears a black bandana on his face and a baseball cap on his head, leaving only his eyes visible.

He is casual in how he walks, how he defends his streets. His eyes find this guy hassling his favorite gyro man and Dante approaches. "Put the gun down. Or you'll never pick up anything again."

The threat is to the point. It's unyielding…and almost dares the criminal to shoot him. "How you doing Nick? This guy causing you trouble?"

Its that moment. As a cloud of breath forms at mouth and nostrils by those down the alley, and they turn at the voice. Nick certainly has a little relief, he's not out here alone in this situation. The man with the gun turns slightly started but swiveling the gun. "Not your business man," he says, after that slight pause, the skip in his throat. He'd probably collected plenty before, but over the past year, especially in the past few months, the streets have changed. They all knew why, and it was clear the man paused to weigh those changes in his mind.

He gives a whistle, "Just stay out of it," he says, his eyes looking right and up as if something behind him should happen.

It does, a can overturns and the beating of feet is heard, as if he had backup, who has, well, beat feet. A momentary lift of browse in surprise and he fires a warning shot down the ally towards Dante. Not aiming either way but threatening to beat it as well. Half an eye to see Nik stays put.

Footsteps are easily heard and the vigilante lightly turns his head to the goons behind him. "Kid…." Vanguard speaks in a more gravely voice as he turns to his pals. "Shoulda ran."

Then, no questions asked or answered, He turns around in a snapping motion, extends his arms outward of his sides and claps his hands together!

Shockwave clap!

Hopefully that does something to these guys to show them who they?re dealing with.

<OOC> Kingbird says, "just a quick check on odd or even for something in the response"
<FS3> Kingbird rolls 1: Failure. (4)

Nik was already back stepping when the man turned his attention from him. Which is good. Coupled with a slight slip on the ice of the steps to his shop, he's pretty readily out of the way of any shockwave.

The gunman however, his hit full force with the blow, which sends him onto his back. The gun drops in the commotion of that thud as the echo reverberates down the ally. He's moaning, maybe out with an injury but breathing. This is when the second thing happens from the shockwave, a snap is heard. A tinkle of a snap overhead, followed by half a dozen or a dozen more. Icecycles release their hold from gutters or windows, and fall down. At least the building aren't too tall here. Nik, looking up, huddles into a ball and a large one narrowly misses him.

Our gunman is less lucky, he takes one right into his leg. Still dealing with the white lighting in his brain that fogs it over from that blow from the shokewave, he curses into the night air. "Fuck man, my leg," he's reaching to hold it or stop bleeding or figure out what went wrong. Writhing even, he calls out, "Johnny Slick ain't gonna like it," he says, grunting between words and trying to move back, "You keep taking out his guys." Maybe the words are to buy time for him to go somewhere, but he's not going fast, still fuzzy and dazed from the shockwave, and now the icicle wound. Blood from the little pools indicates the object pierced the leg.

Just like that.

Vanguard moves to peer over his fallen enemy, pursuing him until he's next to him. "You guys keep talking about Johnny Slick. But you think he would at least grow some balls and either face me himself, or get out of my town." He stares the man in the eye. "You go free. Send him the message. I'm coming for him, and I'm going to rip his heart out. Go, and send the message."

Thus says the Vanguard.

He then turns his back. If he disn't kill him, his wound might. But clearly he's going to check on Nik.


The sounds of the man scrabbling can be heard, not getting up and running, but still back tailing. At least until the cold, clear winter night air absorbs it. Vanguard can check tomorrows reports to see if a body was found or not, if he's so inclined.

Nik, still huddled, hears the crunch of snow and ice at Vanguard's approach and looks up. "Thank you," he manages out, above a whisper as if catching his breath from this evenings scare, "Thank you. What do I owe you?" He lifts a hand to uncower some and look for the covered face of the one who protected him this night.

Vanguard probably wouldn't, but he might check anyway to see if the message was sent. But, a dead criminal won't bother him. His eyes find Nick and he lowers a hand to help the man up. "Nothing. You just keep making good Gyros." and he even pronounced the word right! "That said, have a good night." He tips his hat and proceeds to turn on his heel, unless Nik stops him from leaving.

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