Clack
Legacy Name: Clack

As Tramp left the bar, he turned back to take one more look at the bumbus with Nando. It was gazing around the bar, making clicking noises whenever it moved.

The bumbus’ name was Clack. It hadn't always been. Not when Clack had been Tramp’s partner. Together, him and Clack had been one of the most terrifying teams of Monsters-in-the-Closet the City had ever seen. No child’s dreams had been safe from them.

Until one day, when it had all gone wrong. Tramp didn’t like to think about his days as a Monster, they were just too painful.

The child they had been assigned to together had been tricky to scare at first- she’d had an annoying practical streak that had explained away a lot of their early work. However, over the course of a few months Tramp and Clack had figured out how to properly terrify her. They’d wanted an evening off to celebrate their success at the Taphouse. “Nights off” were typically seen as a no-no from the Council, but often they would turn a blind eye for their top performers. So Tramp had gone to the Dreammaker in the Zone, and picked up a nightmare to keep their child busy.

He’d given it to Clack to deliver to the child, and had gone to the Taphouse for Mikky’s second-best whiskey (the best was a little too pricey and didn't taste much better).

Clack had never come.

The next day, Tramp, with one heck of a headache, had stumbled over to Clack’s apartment to find out where he’d been.

Clack was lying on the cold floor of his living room, comatose. Tramp had run to his side, checking that all of his parts were there and functioning. They were. He just wouldn't wake up.

Tramp had stayed with him all day, until he had finally woken up later on in the evening.

“What did you do, buddy, drink all the whiskey in your apartment?” Tramp had joked.

But Clack had just sat there, saying nothing, eyes glazed over.

Finally, Tramp had gotten the truth out. Clack had never used the bottled dream on their child, he’d used it on himself.

Tramp had heard of this before, although had naively thought it was very uncommon. Apparently, when Monsters used the dreams, they experienced a high of sorts, one that was immediately addictive.

Clack was gone after that.

Clack had begun missing their work, and Tramp had never been good at Monstering on his own. Slowly they had slipped down through the ranks, until they had been expelled by the Council and taken refuge in the Zone.

Clack had barely seemed to notice, beyond not being able to afford the legitimate dreams anymore. He’d had to turn to bootlegs, which had eventually gotten him in deep with the Zone mafia and Nando. His once shiny and well maintained exterior had fallen into disrepair, now he clicked and clacked whenever he moved, earning him his new name.

Still sorrowful from leaving his old partner behind, Tramp started walking. Nando had probably not meant to mention the bakery, so it was as good a place as any to continue his investigation.