Crowds were always a bother. Being a squat figure, busy squares became like dense jungle. The air was thick down here. Dust and grime kicked up from the street below, came up to meet the cloud of badly digested food odors trapped between all the damp tweed and sturdy skirts. Any shorter person had to struggle through this unpleasant undergrowth, only getting glimpses of daylight through the cotton suited canopy above. Nipper had grown used to this and had the advantage of powerful shoulders and sharp elbows to help create safe passage. 

Another aspect of travelling this way, was an insight into the thriving trade of pickpockets dancing between legs and cankles. Industrious little gutter-snipes who'd throw the angry blue face a playful wink of secrets shared, as they skipped off with yet another pocketbook. Nipper paid them no mind, he was on his way to meet his boss and these kids were of no concern to him. He'd been asked to go to Philadelphia and help control the carnage of carrion vultures descending on the aftermath of last night's war. 

He pushed his way through and into a tiny clearing in the press. The sky opened up above him and the dark eyes and blue face looked up toward the azure field of refreshing clarity. For a moment Nipper closed his eyes and drank in the light and fresh air. In that moment he was taken unawares by a man moving into him. The initial reaction was to rebuff the attack of a thief but before he remembered which way he'd dressed that morning, the heavy hand of this man had groped him. And no ordinary grope. Nipper was shocked and the moment of startled disbelief was clearly misread by the assailant who pressed his lips into Nippers and started kissing him with all the skill of an seizure. 

Nipper gagged and nearly vomited in his mouth. This man's arm came around his back. The man's tongue entered his mouth. He must have tasted the regurgitated breakfast and bile but his blind lust appeared to blot out the obvious revulsion Nipper was expressing. He felt the man pant in between his lips in turn he let out sick scented breath and placed a hand over his thick red lips to prevent another surge of vomit flowing directly onto her assailant's face. Then the assailant spoke, the corners of Nipper's lips lifted momentarily, he responded to his breathy pest.

"Herro!"

The stranger's heart clearly skipped a beat as he heard Nipper's voice. His hand slightly wandering over golden kimonoed thigh as he rubbed his fingers along the inside of it with each brush up and down to find.. A cock. A lovely, thick, manly cock. To Nipper's amazement, this didn't so much as add a beat to the pest's passionate progress. He finally pulled away to catch his breath, panting but still with his head placed up against Nipper's, blue face paint smeared across his lust-blind face as he opened his stupid fucking mouth. 

"It looks like I have some work to take care of.." he said with a tease before kissing deep red vomit covered lips again quickly and pulling back and biting Nipper's lip.

In the grips of rape-panic Nipper's mind mentally followed where the man's hands were at his thigh, noticing his hand brushing up and down which made his breathing speed up in bubbling horror of regurgitated breakfast covering his mouth. When the man spoke, he instantly grimaced as the air suddenly made the acidic taste bite. Nipper recoiled, shook his head and lent back before catching the attacker's strangely bovine gaze as he pulled away. 

Those vacant eyes wandered from his and down to Nipper's lips before he put his hand on his thigh and brushed it all the way up and let his fingers push up against Nipper's recoiling penis. He used his other hand to push against Nipper's lower back and into it at the same time before leaning in with his head tilted and pushing his lips and tongue into her mouth. All in, it was a real back-breaker of a maneuver. Like wrestling! He used his fingers to continue pushing against Nipper's groin while his tongue continued to probe clumsily like the perfunctory thrust of a mop into a bucket. 

Nipper's distress was heightened as the assailant's panting increased. A gagging groan escaped his mouth as he felt a grotty little hand push up against his ass. The man's pants in between each vulgar wet kiss left Nipper wondering whether his attacker was a teenager on the wrong side of whiskey, or a fucking Labrador. He tried to pull away and gipped a little as the assailant continued to push down onto him and pressed his horrible lips back into his. With his eyes partially open and looking into Nipper's, he let his tongue escape his mouth and began slowly licking around on Nipper's bottom lip before pulling it back and spreading the vomited bloody mess around on the lips and the edges and areas above their lips as he panted, even fucking more.​​​​​ The panting cunt.

He moved a clammy hand from Nipper's waist and quickly up onto the golden Kimono covered left breast and pushing his entire hand into it as he squeezed while biting onto Nipper's lower lip and slightly pulling away before releasing it and letting his head tilt in what appeared to be the first glimpse of awareness. Awareness that there was no breast, that he was in point of fact, molesting a man in a crowded public street. The colour drained from his stupid face. He looked around at the multitude of horrified onlookers. The stunned silence of the crowd only serving to add dreadful gravity to the life-collapsing embarrassment of his actions. With vomit and blood and drool slipping in drips from his lips, the would-be rapist's eyes traveled a stomach churning lap of the audience before finally returning to meet Nipper's gaze. Nipper grinned broadly at him.

"Ahhh! Moron finarry rearize I not herpress woman. Ok baby ret's dance!"

He chuckled evilly and gripped onto the idiot's arm just as he tried to run away, pulling him back. Nipper then aggressively kissed him on the lips then grabbed the guy's balls and grinned at him.

"What matter now? You no ronger find me sexuarry attractive?"

He watched as the fool reeled back and tried to walk away. Nipper stood up and calmly drew a pistol from inside the silk mystery of his kimono. He sent a well trained bullet right into the attacker's left buttock. He felt the full weight of the slug hammer into his ass, sending him skidding across the floor like a downed bowling pin. The dark eyes narrowed and the now smeared red lipstick grinned.

"Go home boy, this no prace for idiot rapist kid. You do anyfing rike that again, I come and shoot you in dick."

Nipper straightened his garments and lit a cigarette. He stood, smoking gun in hand, smoking furiously. And now he looked around at the large crowd gathered.

"Ret this be resson to arr. Sexuar attacks or any unsoricited advances toward femares, wirr not be torrerated!"

He wagged the gun around in the general direction of the onlookers with a parental air of adjudication. Satisfied that at least a couple looked confused enough as to have been trying to understand him, he continued on his way to meet Grin-07.

BonJonBovi was used to crowds. Not around The Fiddlers HQ of course. No, not there. But elsewhere definitely. Outside Atrocities maybe? I mean, maybe. But that would really be pushing it. Pushing it way, way too far. Imagine, if you will, the most erotic thing you could do to a woman. Are you imagining it?

I’ll give you a moment.

That’s right, pushing your entire weight down on to the left breast. Drives. Them. Wild! Well, that was how far that would be pushing it. Incredible…

…anyway, the crowd…

The air was clear and crisp at the beautiful normal head height BonJonBovi operated at. BonJonBovi (or Jon as his mother called him) was walking aimlessly kicking at the street as he went, attempting to kick as much dust and grime into the air as he could from the streets below.

“Ha, let the little people deal with that shit.” He laughed.

Crowd goers turned to look at Jon BonJonBovi, but quickly diverted their eyes. This was a proper crowd, with crowd rules. No one looks at anyone else for too long lest ye witness something you didn’t want to.

As Jon BonJonBovi stopped to congratulate himself on the use of ‘ye’ in his previous thought, he felt a slight weight lifting from his inside pocket.

“@Gash!” he screamed to the heavens. “That’s the 30^th time this week you absolute bastard!”

In complete fairness this was his own fault. He shouldn’t be keeping hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of cash in his breast pocket should he? But he was going to continue doing it, of yes siree. He wasn’t about to let the pickpockets and gutter snipes ruin his penchant for largesse.

A powerful shoulder and a sharp elbow winded Jon BonJonBovi, as a tiny figure raced past him.

“Fucks sake.” He gasped. “Maybe I’m not as used to crowds as I thought.”

As Jon BonJonBovi was about to turn and leave a streak of red movement caught his eye. A man had burst into the crowd at a completely unnecessary speed. The way he moved, forceful let clumsy, like a beheaded chicken (Were they forceful after beheadings? Actually were they forceful ever?), like a beheaded rhinoceros, Jon BonJonBovi corrected himself, made him think that something was about to go down. Something BIG! Something he was going to be talking about for a few days at least.

The red streak dropped on to something blue, like a hawk on a mouse. After, what seemed like the start of a scuffle a voice cut through the crowd.

“Herro!”

The blue figure, apparently, was @Nipper. Jon BonJonBovi would recognise that perfect diction anywhere.

“I imagine Nipper probably has this under control. No way anyone could have slipped through his guar…” Jon BonJonBovi started to say.

But they had. Someone had slipped through Nippers guard and was attacking him. Again and again the attacks poured in. Hungry hands (and an even hungrier mouth) eating away at the stunned Nipper.

‘Someone needs to help him’, Jon BonJonBovi thought and looked around. Stunned silence met him, maybe nobody had identified the seriousness (seriosity?) of the situation.

But he had. Jon BonJonBovi absolutely had. He could spot seriosity from a mile away. And he was frozen in stunned fear. He was witnessing a hit, in broad daylight, on a prominent member of the Grin Gang.

Jon BonJonBovi moved towards the commotion, but the crowd thickened slowing his progress. If only he was smaller, he would have been able to move quicker. But no.

“Curse my perfect genes!” Jon BonJonBovi screamed to the heavens, accidentally harmonising with a police siren in the distance.

As Jon BonJonBovi shifted and squirmed to get closer to his friend, he caught glimpse of what he presumed was the piece de resistance, the final attack. Putting his whole right hand on the left-hand side of Nippers compact little frame, he pushed.

“No!” Jon BonJonBovi exclaimed, exclamatorily.

But something was happening. The attacker was stumbling backwards, stunned, a look of fear on his face. Nippers face, on the other hand, was a mess. A mixture of saliva and blue paint smeared his usually immaculate countenance.

"Ahhh! Moron finarry rearize I not herpress woman. Ok baby ret's dance!" Nipper shouted.

Nipper was chuckling now, and had gripped onto the, until recently, attackers arm just as he tried to run away, pulling him back. Nipper then aggressively, kissed him on the lips, then grabbed the guy's balls and grinned at him. What was happening?

"What matter now? You no ronger find me sexuarry attractive?"

Jon BonJonBovi had obviously misunderstood what had been going on. Was this a public display of affection gone wrong?

Nipper had stood up now and was calmly drawing a pistol from inside his mysterious silk kimono. Some said the kimono had been given to him by the Emperor himself for saving his daughter from kidnappers, others said he bought it from Sears. But whatever the truth was, it was mysterious and, it appeared, had a pocket big enough for a gun inside it. Nipper fired a bullet right into the attacker's left buttock. It looked like the attacker had felt the full weight of the it, hammering down into his ass, sending him skidding across the floor.

"Go home boy, this no prace for idiot rapist kid. You do anyfing rike that again, I come and shoot you in dick." Nipper was now saying.

What the fuck? Had it not been a hit at all? Nipper was straightening his garments now and lit a cigarette. He stood, smoking gun in hand, smoking furiously. And now he looked around at the large crowd gathered.

"Ret this be resson to arr. Sexuar attacks or any unsoricited advances toward femares, wirr not be torrerated!"

Jon BonJonBovi was reeling and didn’t quite catch who had said the statement, and, unfortunately, couldn’t work it out from those present in the quickly dispersing crowd.

“What the fuck.” Jon BonJonBovi said aloud.

“What the fuck indeed, sir.” no one in particular said. “We should probably be on our way. The police are on their way.”

“Of course, yes.” Jon BonJonBovi gasped.

The two men walked off, dramatically into the night. Or the day. Whichever it was. He was to stunned to notice.