Click analysed his current situation. The two thugs at the door seemed tough, but Click had taken on bigger foes before. The only real issue was the risk of exposure; this rescue required Click to be as quiet as possible. If he were a normal civilian, the easiest method would've been to simply distract the guards. But as Click, the most famous "superhero" in Seattle, this would be a difficult task. The only option now was...
"Hey man, you wanna help me out?"
The look on the young man's face was priceless. "Whoa, Click? What do you need me for?"
Click stroked his own cheek for a moment, in thought. He then put his left hand on the civilian's right shoulder and pointed over to the darkened alley ahead. "See that building? That's an exclusive nightclub."
The man nodded, staring blankly into the alley.
"But," Click continued, "A young girl is being held hostage in there. I gotta get in there without making a scene, or they'll probably slit her throat."
The denim-jacketed young man flinched upon hearing this, but said nothing.
"So, that's where you come in."
Click handed the guy a cell phone. He recognized it instantly as one of the most powerful phones on the market. "Whoa, Click, where'd you get-"
"Not important," Click sighed, "Basically just casually walk past those two guards. Drop the phone when you're about 20 feet away and make sure that they notice. That'll give me enough time to slip inside before they notice me. You in?"
He once again nodded and took the phone from Click's hand. The vigilante stood a few feet away, observing his assistant's progress.
At first, Click was concerned, and for good reason. The two thugs at the door didn't like this denim guy striding past their door. They eyed him suspiciously. The decoy wasn't doing much to help his own situation, either. The young man walked awkwardly, trying far too hard to be "casual". Luckily though, it all pulled together. The sound of the phone dropping was enough to get the guards' attention.
As they walked towards the dropped device, Click inched ever closer to the door. "Hey Paul, check this out!" the larger thug chuckled, holding up the phone, "This thing's a SensorBeam 3!"
His partner sprinted towards him, clearly excited. By now they were at the other side of the alley and the one-time assistant was out of sight. Click walked right up to the door and stepped inside. As the voices of the thieving thugs faded, the stench of sin filled the air.
"We've been expecting you, Click."
The new thug in front of his face startled Click, and he made no attempt to mask it. This guy was twice the size of the other thugs. His fists were the size of toasters, his head twice as large. "Wow, Hamlet... What do you feed your pets, anyway? I gotta get my dog this stuff", Click remarked.
The club owner, Hamlet, stood a few feet behind the thug, his personal bodyguard. "Eddie here only eats the finest French caviar," he joked in reply, "Now... the girl is in the VIP room upstairs. If you want to get to her, you'll have to get past my men first."
Click was unfortunately very well acquainted with Hamlet. The man's small stature and oversized goatee were never a pleasant sight. Not to mention, Hamlet's voice was very... irritating. It wasn't squeaky, nasally, or high-pitched in the slightest, but something about the man's voice screamed "hate me".
"Sorry, Hamlet," Click responded, "You know me. I'm in this to save lives, not to fight crime. Now if you'll all excuse me, there's a girl I have to rescue upstairs. Her father misses her terribly."
Eddie the bodyguard stood firm. Click sighed. "I promise, Eddie, that I won't break any of your bones... except for maybe your fibula. I never liked that one."