These streets were busy. The bustle of business, steaming roads and sweet smelling bakeries, accompanied the various speeches and conversations. An unmissable slice of gold penetrated the throng of grey and brown suits. A bright glint sighted here and there as the squat figure moved below head height. The flashes grew more frequent and closer, people could be seen being pushed aside from an invisible force, much like bushes being moved by creature below. The disgruntled grumps of those thrust aside, grew louder as the gold flashes grew closer. And then, as with the majestic sighting of a rare beast in the Africas, it finally appeared. Gold kimono resplendent in the morning sun, thick blue face paint, unable to mask the decidedly unattractive face of a being past its prime. The curlers made barrels in its thick black hair, serving as little chimneys for the endless smoke bellowing from the chain smoking lips. These diverse components made for a complicated vision, all meeting at that aggressive scowl. This strange apparition was impossible to ignore.

"Herro!"

The awkward gold shape and fierce expression glared out over the crowd.

"I come to warn you. Warn you arr! This man Misser Grin who come and stand before you, he fraud. He riar! He bassard! Do not be decive by his rong smire and fancy words. Behind scenes he horrible man."

A few eyebrows were raised at the attention grabbing statement. Crowds were so used to having their day dulled with dreary shit trotted out by morons, about vampires and other such ridiculous bullshit. But this! This was about life, what was really actually happening! The possibility of discovering dirt on a real life bastard was always more interesting than endless imagined fantasies that went entirely ignored. The captivating little fury went on.

"So many year he keep me locked in wash room raundry. Surrounded by immigrants. I no immigrant! I US citizen. Shiface stear passport and rock me in that horribre raunderette. I work fingers to bone. Day and night. Asshole Misser Grin never keep promise. I onry recenry see dayright!

People die in vere! Washing croves! Incredibre misfortune for honest peopre."

The curlered head bowed and several little smoke rings puffed up from the hairy chimneys. She looked back up with a strangely wry grin.

"I no here to make ereyone sad. You no feel bad for past. We start friends now, arr vat matter. I have daring pran for escape and revenge!

Misser Grin busy arr time now. Smiring like cheshire cunt to ereryone. Riar fucker! He busy wif exproitation, extortion and pubric penis routine. I have pran! I secretry rearn to perferom hideous surgery. When time is right, I graft metar wings onto bassard and push him off buirding, see if he can fry!"

Little hands rub together while conspiratorial eyes dance with excitement.

"I do great and modest act of herosim. Free overs. We escape and have optimistic future. Maybe you herp us. Keep secrets from shitcake. I see much promise in riss. Dreadfur patience wir be our strengf."

Seemingly contented with the inspirational impact of the speech, the gold kimonoed fury elbowed its way aggressively down from where it had stood and back into the crowd. Stopping suddenly it planted an boney elbow in the ribs of a bystander, sending him hopping out of the way. The vicious blue face scowled back at the gathering once more.

"If you no herp. I no worry! I perfrom humble miracre arone. 

Mark my words... I no need you. I rearn to shave own back years ago!"

And with that, the elemental terror disappeared into the throng.

Nipper was a General in another life, Zapata was sure of it. She spoke with the kind of calculated indignation reserved for for those with armed men to inspire, something Zapata himself knew well from his time at the head of a peasant army struggling to free his native Mexico from the grip of that lying, treacherous dog Madero. He found himself nodding along to everything she said; Mr. Asshole, yes, yes, penis routine, right, push him off a building, interesting, yes, very interesting. She was someone to keep an eye on, a bowling ball of butcher knives barreling in the right direction. This was a proper mafioso. 

While so many twiddled their thumbs, looking for permission from Mr. Grin, Nipper looked ready to ball him up like a basketball and shatter the backboard with a disgustingly sick honey dip dunk. He felt determined to help this force of nature any way he could.