The rain had a soothing aspect to it. Enough to set some men to sleep provided they could find some form of shelter from the moisture. Some people went under bridges, gathered up some flammable items and then started a fire. Others gathered in alleyways with overhangings or by buildings. Any place with where they could get shelter.
"Here you go."
The man's eyes flutter open. And the first thing that comes to his mind is something very much out place. In a bridge of a dark, bleak colors of blacks browns and greys with the only bit of light being the kindling flame coming from a trashcan -- he saw purple. Some girl with an basket in one hand. A sandwhich in the other. Leaned over and handing a sandwich to another man. Another to an old woman. He looked down and saw a sandwhich in his lap too. The faint scent of perfume still muddled with the accustomed scent of everyone's combined musk. A scent that the girl had long gotten used to.
The previous sleeping homeless man looked down and saw in front of him a cold cut sandwich. Neatly wrapped.
When she patrolled, it wasn't from the rooftops usually. More often than not, she found that it was better to just walk around the streets. Especially in the rain. It was quite slippery. And much to her dismay, she didn't have one of those high tech grappling hooks which would have ascending easier. Nor did she have one of those memory foam capes that allowed for one to seamlessly glide down to the streets from any height.
Nobody gets mugged on rooftops anyway.
The people of the streets looked at her. Some homeless boomer brigadiers glancing over in her direction, casually toting around AK47s lowered so as to not catch barrels in the rain. Who then promptly went back to talking among themselves. A few other homeless people hanging around bus stops in prime position for sandwich hand-outs. A few thank yous here and there. Soon she picked up something as a matter of fact. Taking in the tiniest bits of information and piecing together a cry for help.
Wet footsteps indicated the girl's approach. Blaring purple made her stick out in the dark. From the other end of the alleyway, the men glanced at the one who approached them. They each pulled out a set of knives and were greeted with a tiny teenage girl toting around a basket in one hand and a hand on a hip in the other.
"I don't suppose I could give any of you a sandwich and then you all could walk away?"
She asked. And the men looked at her. Hesitant for a moment for a moment. Whenever someone encountered a cape or random person who intervened, there was no real telling what sort of strange and exotic superpowers they might have. Yet, in this city there were many people who just threw on costumes and gotten the shit beaten out of them anyway.
Two of them lunged her -- the narrow alleyway forcing them to come one at a time. The violet vixen dropped her basket and BANG
a gunshot. In her hand where there was once a basket there was now a gun of unknown make. However it hit not with bullets but with a potent payload of teargas which splashed the gas all over his face. And as he gets closer she spins the pistol in her hand and slams the metallic object into his crotch, dodging him as he slides to the ground.
One falls to the floor as the other rushes her. And before his very eyes she disappears. CRACK!
The breaking of bone as a baton smashes into the man with the force of her swing and his charge. The man's knees buckle as Sacha spins around him with the grace of running back. Baton in one hand. Gun in the other. Aimed at the man toting around the pipe. Who seemed to be quivering in place at the little girl who clearly had something he did not.
"You seem smart! Make the right choice."
And with that, the man backed away slowly and sought to run. Going well past wolf in a hurry. Off into the distance. All the while the others limp away. One with a damn near broken femur. The other with pepper spray in his eyes and pain in his nuts that was going to last a few days.
Weapons were put away with a whir of motion. Her hands now empty as she moved to the man being mugged, examining him with care. "Are you okay?"
She asks the man as she looked him over. If he was down she would take his hand and help him up.
She said, not looking at him as she examined the man for any wounds or any sign of shock. "Aren't you supposed to be having a day off. And why are you so wet."
From her utility belt she draws and umbrella. And throws it up. It spins and then glides over to him. In perfect position for him to grasp.
"Nobody likes the smell of wet dog. Yuck!"
She says, still not looking at Jack. But a smile on her face as she looked at the man. Something in her cheery demeanor to perhaps make him feel better. Even if he was wounded.