|A broken past
Author: NightmareThunderSocks PM
Elena West is the daughter of a dead vigilante. 16 years after the disappearance of The Watchmen, the darkness of the Underworld finally leaves it's first scars on the woman who thought she had escaped from her past. After a meeting with the masked vigilante Rorschach, Elena cannot shake the feeling that she is being dragged into the darkness again. EVENTUAL OC/RORSCHACH ROMANCERated: Fiction T - English - Adventure/Romance - Walter K./Rorschach - Chapters: 2 - Words: 3,545 - Reviews: 3 - Favs: 4 - Follows: 4 - Updated: 02-14-13 - Published: 01-03-13 - id: 8869699
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Elena West. Her mother teamed up with me after Nite Owl became too soft for what we were going to face. Black Angel was beautiful (the animal growled at me, upset that I had even used the word beautiful, let alone used it to describe a woman), she was a lithe killing machine with skills that were greater than most, if not all of the vigilantes I had ever come across. I don't know why I'm sat here, thinking about the woman that was the closest thing to a friend I had back in those times. My past is just fragments, it is a book with pages ripped out, so I never know the full details of what happened all those years ago. The first and only time I saw Elena was in her own home, I was sat on her sofa, speaking urgently to her mother. Trying to convince her to leave with me, to track down and find the man we had originally teamed up to kill. His name escapes me. I remember her quiet, timid voice say, 'Mummy,' and then after a short pause, 'Shack,'. I guess she was referring to me, but her sleepy, childish mind couldn't wrap around my name. Seeing Black Angel's daughter was painful for me; I was trying to convince her mother to leave her family behind to come with someone she only knew as a man in a mask. I rose from the chair and turned on my heel, throwing myself out of the window onto the fire escape below. I knew Black Angel would follow me, she always did. What I didn't know was that this would be the last time she would ever see her daughter, and it was my fault entirely.
As I sat and thought about Elena, I realised how much she looked like her mother. Elena had a heart shaped face and ice blue eyes, the exact replica of Black Angels. It hurt me to look into them on that fire escape, because their beauty just reminded me of the woman I owe my life to, and that angered the beast. He longed to snap that pretty little neck, end her life so she could no longer remind me of my broken past. Her hair was not like the Angel's, I assume that she had dyed it, because as a child her hair was brown. The animal bubbled inside me as I thought about how the disgusting men had clawed at her jeans, trying to pull them down to satisfy their sick desires. I also remembered how she had fought back; kicking the first man with such force he flew several feet backwards. I tried to not intervene until I knew she needed my help for certain, but I wasn't quick enough to stop her from choking and killing one of the gang members. It was stupid of me to leave her for so long to fight, because now they know her face, know the colour of her hair and the ice blue of her eyes. She is completely oblivious to the danger she is now in. She is so easily recognisable in the street because of her unique looks. It is easily forgotten that even though the Underworld rises at night, they still stalk the shadows in the day, identifying their prey like a cheetah in the African savannah.
I sighed and rose from the chair, pulling my trench coat off and loosening my tie. I walked into my bathroom to bathe all the blood off me, both physically and mentally. Standing under the shower, I let the water soak through my fiery red hair. I grabbed the soap and scrubbed at myself, the water running brown and red into the tub, the blood and gore I had accumulated that night flowing down into the plug hole. I stood under the shower for a while, relaxing under the steaming hot water. Finally I stepped out and dried myself with a towel. Stretching my arms and rolling my sore neck I walked into my bedroom and pulled on some sweatpants and a shirt. I looked down at myself, a smirk playing on my lips as I remembered once again that when I had somehow came back from the dead, I had come back as a much younger version of myself, around 24 or 25. The 'somehow' annoyed me. I felt it in my periphery, the presence that was always there in the back of my mind. It wasn't the animal that lurked inside me that I felt in my chest, a building pressure that grew when I became the masked vigilante. This presence was different, it didn't feel like it belonged to me, and when I focused on it for too long a blue haze took over my vision, and glowing images of a blue man warped in my mind. Another mystery for another day, I thought, accepting that my sudden reincarnation wasn't something I needed to dwell on just yet.
I got into bed, and before I could even register my exhaustion, I dropped into a deep and dreamless sleep
I sat on my sofa with my feet curled under me, listening to the sound of rain pounding against the window with my head lolled back against the wall behind me. My eyes burned and throbbed, they were red and sore from crying earlier. I had to phone in sick at work, there was no way I would be leaving my house after what happened. I put on my best fake flu voice, and coughed a few times into my mobile. Boss said to take as long as I wanted off, as I sure did sound poorly. I hated lying to him, it made me feel like a bad person.
Rorschach is alive. The thought jolts me out of my reverie, making me sit bolt upright on the sofa, breath coming out like a dog panting as I relived what had just happened for the thousandth time. I had already sat in a scalding bubble bath, scrubbing at myself where the thugs touched me. My leg ached from the shuddering impact of kicking the thug hard, and also from twisting it and grabbing it to... I choked someone. I could have KILLED someone. In fact, I know I killed someone because he said that the thug was dead. He. Rorschach. Because he was alive.
I sighed and looked at the clock on the wall. It was nearly midnight.
For some reason, a reason I could not fathom for the life of me, I wanted to go back out. The adrenaline that coursed through me when I was fighting gave me a rush no drug could. But of course, I couldn't go out. It would be stupid of me to risk it when I had almost been raped and nearly killed earlier.
I got up and looked at myself in the full length mirror. Other than my blotchy eyes and face, I didn't have any marks on me where I had been grabbed. I grumbled to myself and pinched at my stomach and arms. 'Let yourself get soft Ellie,' I thought.. I used to be lean and well-muscled, but years of slobbing around had made me weak. I was still slender but I wasn't well muscled. I was strong but I certainly didn't look it.
Upon looking at myself in the mirror, I decided I was going to get fit again. Dropping onto my stomach, I took one deep breath and began to do some press ups. They were surprisingly easy, and I managed to get to 20 before I felt fatigued. Picking myself up I did some squats, 20 then a 10 second break before another set of 20. After my half hour workout, I was drenched in sweat and physically shaking from exertion. After another quick shower I went into my bedroom to get ready for bed. As I reached down to the ground by my wardrobe to pick up a tank top, I noticed something. Under my bed, in a box covered in dust and grime due to being untouched for years was my mother's costume. She had two, one as a spare in case the one she wore got too dirty and blood stained.
I pulled the box out and blew the dust off the lid, revealing her entwined B and A insignia. I was shaking as I lifted the top and saw her mask. It was a simple mask, no fancy gadgets, just some sort of black matt polymer that was like a masquerade mask. I always loved my mother's mask. It was black, but along one side of it was an intricate swirling silver pattern that glimmered in the light. In a moment of complete craziness, I placed it on my face and tied it at the back, pulling some of my hair over the top of the tie to hide it.
The material moulded to my face like it had always been meant for me, the strong material sitting on my nose comfortably and snugly. I stood up, fingers tracing over the mask, following the swirling pattern that made it so beautiful and elegant. I sat down at my dressing table and started to apply dark kohl eye shadow, fanning it out until I had seductive smokey eyes. Next was thick eyeliner and mascara. I fluttered my lashes and pouted, the mask and the makeup making me feel like someone I was most definitely not.
Getting up, I looked back into the box. I pulled out her costume. I was a one piece suite, with long sleeves and long tight pants. She used to wear it with eye-wateringly high boots, the backs of the heels like a serrated blade. I was most definitely not going to try the suit on, my mother was the only person who could pull off something like that. Her body was bloody brilliant.
I laughed to myself and took off the mask, laying it back into the box before pushing it under my bed. I took off the makeup I had applied and stretched, muscles popping and aching. A sigh of contentment escaped my lips as I crawled into bed. My dreams that night were full of Rorschach and white swirling tendrils that entwined him, holding him still so he couldn't run away as I reached out with hungry, desperate hands.