Tear one off and scratch my head, what once was red is black instead.

In origins I was not in existence; this tube based system required manual assistance. Then a clicker came by, connected by string; until infrared changed the scene. My onomatopoeic name changed to this singular six letter answer, all about control.

A minty warrior, squeezing from its tube, battling decay with a foamy plume, it leaves your ivory gates refreshed and bright, fighting foes in the dark of night.

Standing the dessert alone with prickly needles I adore