It was early morning when she woke up in the alleyway. She could tell by the location of the sun, and the small number of people walking by. She groggily rubbed her eyes, sitting up. Where was she? How did she get there? Who was she? She looked down at herself. She was a young girl, Caucasian, wearing a smudged white dress and no shoes. From the pain, she had a bruise under her left eye. She rubbed the back of her head, feeling the long strands of hair that she saw were dark when she held them out to see.
She warily stood, legs complaining about the action, and walked over to a puddle, staring at her reflection. She was right about the bruise and the hair. She also had delicate features and appeared to be about ten years old. The wide black eyes in the reflection scared her a bit with their blank, zombie-like appearance. She inspected her hands, finding them grimy. She looked around at the sound of people walking by. Just normal citizens of New York.
Funny. She knew where and what she was, but not who she was. The girl took a deep breath, then walked out onto the sidewalk, careful not to step on any sharp objects with her bare feet. People didn't seem to notice her, and the ones who did didn't say anything. She walked past a newsstand. Stopped, looked at some of the papers, then kept walking. She stopped, walked back, and stood staring at the papers again. Watchmen? She squinted at the papers when the man behind the stand acknowledged her.
"Hey, Kid, are you gonna get a paper?" She looked up at him blankly, then looked at the ground. She glanced back at the papers. Watchmen?
"Kid, are you gonna buy one or not?" She looked at her dress. No pockets. No money. She shook her head. The man kept looking at her.
"Kid, where are your shoes?" She shrugged.
"Your parents?" She shrugged again. The man opened his mouth to speak again, but another man had walked up, with money, and bought a paper. She looked at him, inspecting this new man. He was not much taller than she was, with scruffy red hair, dark freckles spattered across his face, stubble, and faded clothes. He had a crude cardboard sign tucked under his arm, as he pulled some change out of his pocket to pay for a paper, that declared 'The End is Nigh.' He made some small talk with the newspaper man, but nothing more, taking his paper and walking along she street.
She took one last look at the newspapers, reading as much as she could, then followed the man. He didn't seem to notice her following him. He finally stopped at a corner, newspaper tucked under one arm and sign resting on his shoulder, when he turned and looked at her. She stopped, standing still in the middle of the sidewalk as people walked past her, watching to see what he'd do. The man just sort of looked at her for a moment, then turned and walked across the street.
She jogged to get to the corner, but the light had turned green, and she had to wait to cross. She watched the top of the red-haired head bob along in the crowd until she could see him no longer. The light turned red, but she walked back to the newspaper stand, sitting next to a young man reading a book with pictures all on it.
"Watchmen?" she asked, surprised at how scratchy and hoarse her voice was from lack of use. The young man looked up from his book at her.
"Huh?" She pointed to the newspapers.
"Watchmen?" The young man looked at her for a moment, then realized what she meant.
"You haven't heard of the Watchmen?" The girl shook her head. "They're these superheroes that used to protect the city until the government shut them down. There was The Comedian, Dr. Manhattan, The Silk Spectre, Nite Owl, Ozymandias, and Rorschach." The girl thought for a moment.
"Ror-schach?" The young man nodded, looking at his book once more, then looking back at her.
"Yeah, he's still running around out there, trying to protect us. He's insane, though, so I don't know if he's really out there to help. He only comes out at night, and the cops are usually looking for him." The girl nodded thoughtfully, deep in thought. She looked back up at the young man.
"Thanks." The young man nodded.
"No prob. Hey, where are your shoes-?" But she had stood up, and started walking, creeping past the newspaper man as he greeted a customer. He asked too many questions that made her feel uncomfortable. She walked back to the alleyway where she woke up, searching for something to remind her of her past, of who she was. She stopped right before the opening, took a deep breath, then looked inside. Nothing. Just a Dumpster, some garbage scattered across the ground. She took a few cautious steps into it, eyes searching closely for anything.
A small black bundle caught her eye. It was right where her head had been that morning. She bent over to pick it up and unfolded it. It was a black trench coat. Just her size. She slipped it on, buttoning the buttons up to the top, folding the collar out, so she could pull the lower half of her face in it, like a turtle. She tied the sash around her waist, then sat on the ground to think.
The young man she had talked to said the Watchmen wore masks. She needed one, too. Where did you get a mask? She had no money, so even if she could find one, she couldn't afford it. She frowned, looking around for something, then looked at her coat. She didn't need a sash, right? She untied it, slipping it out of its belt loops, then tied it around her face, over her eyes. It would work. She stuffed it in her pocket, standing up. She needed something to cut the cloth.
There was an old, broken pocketknife next to the Dumpster that would work fine. It still had a knife or two, though some others were snapped off. She sat cross-legged, pulling the black fabric out of her pocket and gently slicing a hole in it. She held it up to her eye. Good. She carefully cut the second hole, then held the mask up to her face. It would work for now. She stood, stuffing the makeshift mask in her pocket and tucking the knife she had used in so it wouldn't stab her. The sound of footsteps behind her made her shove her hands in her pockets and walk out of there and onto the sidewalk. Fast.
&&&&&&&&&&
She had been sitting on that curb for hours. Her stomach was grumbling, her joints were stiff, and she wasn't sure how she'd live to see tomorrow if she didn't find shelter soon. The city was a dangerous place and she didn't want to get caught up in the crossfire. She watched two young boys across the street from her play 'Cops and Robbers'. The 'robber' was running around, pretending to shoot at the 'cop', who chased him about, also shooting at his friend. As morbid as the game was, she couldn't help but smile. They seemed be having fun.
"Bang! Bang! BANG!" they shouted at each other, as the 'robber' pretended to run away with his 'loot', a shiny penny and a bottle cap. She smiled again, watching them being guided away from their game by their mothers, who talked the whole time. The girl looked around, finding she was alone. The game had awoken something in her mind, like a memory, but not quite. She just had the urge to…
She feigned a gun with her hand, mimicking the two boys, and pointed at a trashcan.
"Bang." For a second, nothing happened. She didn't expect anything to. Suddenly, the trashcan made a loud sound of impact, and a side dented in. Startled by the sudden noise, the girl was up on her feet and running, despite her protesting body. People would go out to see what had happened, soon, and she had to get away from there. She had just enough time to see the perfectly round hole in the side of the metal, the exact size of a bullet hole.
&&&&&&&&&&
The darkness was starting to settle on the streets of New York. The girl shivered, shoving her hands in her pockets and walking along the sidewalk at a brisk pace. She had donned her mask under a streetlight, hiding the identity even she didn't know. Now, she was on the lookout for anything, anything at all. She felt drawn to these 'Watchmen' people. Like they could help her. They were Heroes, right? Heroes helped people, crazy or not.
She sighed, knowing that in a city this big, it was nearly impossible to run into someone you wanted to run into by chance. She was pulled out of her thoughts as she heard footsteps. Her bare feet made no sound on the pavement, so she was being followed. She turned to see two men behind her, close enough for discomfort. Automatically, she turned into an alley to escape them, and set herself at a fast walk to increase the distance between her and the men. What she didn't count on was a dead end.
She stopped and turned to see the men walk towards her, smiling.
"'Ey thar, sweet'eart," one of them crooned, the bigger one, "Where ya think yer goin'?" He laughed, a scary, booming sound. They were close enough now that she could see their bloodshot eyes and smell the spirits on their breath. The second one frowned as he got a closer look at her.
"Man, she's just a kid. This isn't worth my time. Let's go." The first man laughed again.
"Naw, I like 'em young." He grabbed her arm, squinting to see her better. His breath made her gag. "She's tryin' to be like one o' them supers! Little thing like you'd get snapped in half. Heh." The girl's sense of self-preservation kicked into gear, and she clenched her fist, sending it with all her might crashing into the man's mid section, hitting his solar plexus. The man doubled over, but kept a hold on her arm. She attempted to stomp on his instep, and while he yelped in pain, his grip did not falter.
"You little-!" He growled, standing at full height, but he was not quick enough to see her send her palm into his nose. The crack and gush of blood told her she'd broken it. Finally, he let go of her to hold his newly broken nose, making wounded animal sounds. The girl retreated to the end of the alleyway, waiting for the next move. The large man turned to his friend.
"I fink she broke by nose!" He shouted nasally, then turned to her, removing his hands from his wounded face, clenching his fists by his sides.
"You're gonna get it, girlie!" The girl swallowed, then shakily held up her hand, feigning a gun again. The two men laughed. The second one wiped an eye, and gripped his stomach.
"Kid thinks a fake gun's gonna stop ya!" The larger man nodded, then charged, full force, at her. She dodged out of the way, facing the man as he hit the wall, he turned, shakily, then charged again. There wasn't enough time to dodge. She knew what she had to do.
"Bang." The man was hit squarely in the chest, his run slowing until he fell to the ground with a thump, only inches from her toes. She stood over him, victorious, when she felt the arms wrap around her midsection and lift her into the air. She squirmed and kicked, but the arms held her fast, and she couldn't reach any pressure points. The owner of the arms began squeezing her tightly, she felt the wind leave her lungs and her back begin to crack.
"You killed Greg, you little-!" But the man was cut off and the arms let her go. She landed on her backside, groaning and breathing heavily to regain air to her lungs. She heard grunts and sounds of a scuffle before a large CRACK! She turned to see a new man in a brown trench coat and fedora walking away. Despite her brain telling her to regain some sort of oxygen and footing, she up on her feet and after him in a moment.
She grabbed a hold on his coat. The man stopped, then turned quickly, elbowing her in the face. Hard. She didn't let go, though, landing on her backside, once more, left eye pounding harder than ever. She looked up at the man, searching for a face, any clue to who he was. All she saw was white fabric with black shapes swirling on it. A mask…
"Ror-schach?" The girl asked softly. The man didn't answer but simply tugged on his coat, trying to get it out from her grip. She held it tighter.
"Answer question." The man looked down at her and tugged again. She frowned, tugging back and standing. The man sighed lightly.
"Shouldn't be out this late. Go home." The girl frowned at him.
"No home." The man looked puzzled, she thought. Maybe it was just the shape on his face.
"Find one." She released his coat, and he began to walk again, only faster. The girl followed him, having to trot beside him to keep up pace. He stopped again, turning to look at her.
"Not someone to follow." She crossed her arms and shrugged. The man, she was certain it was Rorschach, reached out and pushed her away. She grabbed onto his arm.
"Want to learn." The man pulled his arm out of the girl's grip and began to walk again. She trotted along beside him.
"Need to show you something. Please?" The man stopped again, facing her. She wouldn't give up, would she? He'd have to resort to violent measures. He sighed again.
"Fine. Make it fast." The girl smiled, then led him back to where she had been attacked. The second man was lying on the ground, his head bent at an odd angle. She led Rorschach to the first man, Greg. He was impressed that she managed to take him down by herself. Not very impressed, but impressed all the same. She pointed to what appeared to be a bullet wound in his chest, then pointed to herself.
"Shot him?" If the girl killed him with a gun, then something was going to happen, soon. The girl shook her head.
"Watch." Then, she feigned a gun with her hand, aiming at a wall. She was going to pretend to shoot something? What was she doing? The girl picked a point to aim at.
"Bang." It made no sense to him. What was the point? Then, as if the gun she held was real, an invisible bullet seemed to hit where she aimed, taking a chunk of the wall off. Rorschach was startled.
"Do it again." The girl repeated the action, taking another chunk out of the wall. Rorschach had no idea what was going on, but one thing was very clear to him: This child would not be allowed to wander the streets, alone. The girl looked up at him, as if pleased with herself for what she did. Rorschach turned and began to walk away. The girl stayed still, watching him. He stopped, turning to look at her.
"Come on." The girl ran to his side and they walked off together, leaving the two men's bodies to lay in a dead end alley.
&&&&&&&&&&
Daniel Drieberg was not surprised to find his door kicked in. It didn't mean that it didn't tick him off, though. He stomped towards his kitchen, knowing that was where the intruder was. He could see Rorschach already, spooning beans out of a can into his mouth, as nonchalant as ever.
"Daniel, need you to watch something for me." Dan rolled his eyes.
"Yeah, what is it?" He stood in the doorway to his kitchen, eyes trained on the vigilante as he chewed his unheated beans. Rorschach swallowed, then pointed to the end of the table. Dan frowned. He was used to Rorschach being secretive. He wasn't surprised by the vague request. When his eyes followed the line from Rorschach's finger to what he pointing to, however, he was surprised. A little girl in a black trench coat and mask was sitting at the end of his kitchen table, eating her own can of unheated beans, as nonchalant as the man she had arrived with.
A/N: It started with my drawing of a little girl in her black coat and mask and turned into a weird, Watchmen-based dream. I guess I have too many dream stories for my own good. Figured it was good, so I wrote is down. I still need a hero name for my little vigilante, so feel free to give me suggestions. I know it was kind of slow at the beginning, but it'll pick up, I promise. I don't own Watchmen or any of the characters. Hope you enjoy! ^_^