"Help me! Please! Someone, anyone, help!"
He raised his right leg and pointed it towards the door. With a soft hissing sound, the lower portion of the leg retracted. At full retraction, the leg suddenly burst forward, tearing the flimsy wooden door right off of its hinges. "Ahhh!"
A heavy thud was heard , accompanied by a sharp cry of pain. Click peered inside the VIP room. The teenage female hostage sat bound in her chair, with a busted door leaned on top of her. "Oh, that hit you?" Click winced, "Sorry."
He pulled the door off her and untied the 17 ropes which kept her fixed to the wooden chair. "Oh, thank you, Click!" the girl cried with joy.
Her ribbon-like blonde hair shone in the light of the lampstand beside them. "You're not hurt or anything, are you?" Click asked.
The girl shook her head. "All right then, let's get you home."
At this point the look on her face became sinister. "I... just got punked, didn't I?" Click sighed, burying his face in the palm of his hand, "All right then, bring on the ambush... serves me right, coming into a windowless room like this. It was obviously a trap. Woe is me..."
Several more thugs came into the room, among them Hamlet and his (now crippled) bodyguard Eddie, who was being supported by another thug. Hamlet stepped forward. "Click... we don't want to hurt you today, we just want some information."
"Relieving," Click chuckled, "I don't have any life insurance, did ya know that? You'd think a vigilante like me would have some sort of plan for that, but nope, not me. So about this info?"
"Ah, that," Click snickered, "Well... My name is technically Gavin McTrevor. Although, I don't use that name anymore; too flashy in my opinion, Click suits me better. Now, like the old cliché goes... you're all gonna have to die now..."
There was a long pause, at least 15 to 30 seconds long. No one moved a muscle.
"Psyche," Click sneered, "I don't really care if you go to the media with that. It's a dead name. Like a disconnected phone number, you get what I'm saying? You can call it all you want... I'm not gonna answer. My one and only name now, is Click."
He turned to the hostage. "Were you legitimately in on this, or were they forcing you to, or whatever?"
"Just get me home, Click," she smiled, "These guys don't feed me very well."
Click took the girl's hand and walked past the crowd of silent thugs. They exited out the back door of the establishment. Fifteen minutes later, the girl (named Eliza) was back home with her single father. The next day, Click's identity was revealed in newspapers, magazines, news reports, radio reports and websites worldwide.
"What am I, some sort of stinking celebrity?" he sighed, sipping a glass of sparkling apple juice by the sunrise. The way the water by the docks looked at dawn... simply beautiful.