After the night I saw Rorschach again, I patrolled in areas much further from home, hoping not to run into him, even though I knew he could be anywhere. He watched over the entire city. I just did my small part.
I sat atop a dark, empty building about a mile away from my own abode. It was a bad part of town... things were always going down. This place was normally infested by rent-a-cops who worked for the owners of the land and buildings, but apparently this one's owner didn't care to enough to use it or protect it. Maybe it had no owner.
I could hear a scream emit from the entrance of the bulding, and jumped up by instinct. It sounded like a male scream... one of a man in pain. Had someone been jumped? Mugged?
there was a very long ladder running up my side of the building, which I climbed down easily. I followed the screamer through the garage-sized front door of the building, sticking to the door frame. It was a huge building, probably a factory at one time; this made my job easier, sinde most of the old facotry buildings had one main floor and then a level that only ran around the edges of them, probably where offices would be. In one of these second floor offices, I could see flash lights being moved from place to place, shining out the windows, and other places. I could see three standing sillhouettes and one being held down against what I judged to be an old desk that had been left here when the factory was abandoned. The shadows on the wall made me thing of the Sillhouette, who died before I was born, if for nothing but the name itself.
I made my way up the rusted metal stairs on my tip toes, hoping like hell they wouldn't creak. I got lucky; from the top of the stairs, I made my way to the window in the office here I saw the light, looking in, careful to stay out of the flashlight beams.
Inside the room, I could see three men holding another man down against, like I'd guess, an old desk, while they burned him with their cuban cigars; they were well dressed and chubby, while the burnt one was in sweats, missing a shirt, and almost anorexic he was so skinny. Probably a coke addict.
"So that's it; Drug deal gone bad."
My eyes went wide as the men shined their lights out the window, basking my face in an unnatural battery-generated glow. Had I said that outloud?!
Two of the well-off men had started out of the room. The third man was guarding the burnt one, though it was obvious he wasn't going anywhere fast
Luck was on my side tonight; I was dealing with fat men. they couldn't both fit at the door at once, so my plan was simple and easily forseen by a worthy enemy. Fortunately, these two weren't the brightest bulbs. They could only come single-file through the door, and even though they were weilding gones, they used them like they'd never shot a gun before. I ducked as the first man shot, and swept my legt so that I took his feet out from under him. He fell back into the other man, on top of his gun, which shot the first through the collar bone as the second fell back and hit his head against the old desk. I stood up straight and looked for their friend, but the door that went out to the old fire escape was open.
For now, the other accomplice wasn't important. The man they'd had captive was burned and badly injured, and he was unconscious to boot. He needed help.I figured the two others would be out for a whilem seeing as one was in shock and the other more than likely had a mild to serious concussion. I made my way over their bodies to the victim, who I shook in a spot that didn't look bruised, but gently nonetheless.
"Hey, wake up. We need ot get you out of here and into a hospital."
His eyes opned slightly and there was another manly scream from outside, though it was short and sounded interrupted. I pulled the victim up carefully from the antique desk carefully, letting him put most of his weight on my shoulders as I led him down the rusty old stairs that I'd been so quiet on before. I got him out into the cool night air and sat him on the black top, with the intention of going back in for the two other men, thought they would be much harder to get down from the room. They were at least a hundred pounds heavier than the victim. So, I started to walk back into the building, thought at the top of the stairs I heard a nasal whine cut off by the sound of vertabrae snapping. I peered in to see Rorschach with my two criminals dead on the floor, heads turned all the way around, and I could guess what had happened to the man who ran away.
My hand clapped over my mouth in shock and he turned around sharply to face me, having heard it. I stared incredulously.
"What have you done? They.. They were already under control..."
The blotches on his mask were unforgiving in form.
"Were wanted mobsters."
I was very nearly hysterical, something that was out of the norm for me.
"You killed them, Rorschach! Dead! Dead as doornails! No prison, no second chance, nothing!"
The words "second chance made him cringe slightly, the blotches on his mask moving irradically, though it was mostly his body language I read.
"You didn't object when rapist was disposed of."
I thought about this in silence for a moment; Rorschach was right. I didn't object when he split my near-rapist's head again the alleyway brick. I was appalled at myself for such a thing. Any human being cold change...
I turned around and headed back down the stairs, out the garage-like door. I helped my victim to a nearby pay phone, where I called for an ambulance. He never said a word, and I was gone as soon as I heard sirens closing in.
Home was never a relief to me; it meant that once I was there, crime ran amuck as it pleased, or it was swallowed into the depths of faulty jurisdiction and jail time. It was nerve racking, and I only ever slept four hours a night at most. The fact that I had to prepare for school at six in the morning didn't help, either.
This night, I drempt about Rorschach... but not the one I'd seen tonight. It was the Rorschach that saved me in that alleyway a year ago, when I was sixteen. He had a sort of worry in his voice; still monotone, but not so... flat. Not apathetic. He sounded like he cared about saving lives then, I imagined Rorschach now, cracking a mobster's neck, using the fact that he saved me and I didn't object to shut me up. This was a nightmare that suffocated you with the fact that your idol isn't who you thought he was. It crushed one's hope.
Rorschach's journal, July 22nd, 1983
Liberty is soft. Just a kid. Took down two mobsters instead of killing them. Left her fingerprints all over the place; very sloppy. I cleaned them up to prevent fingerprint identification when the pigs came. Remind Liberty to clean up if she is seen again soon.
She will be seen again soon. Must investigate identity; could find nothing out outside of first escapade.