Trapper: Diary of an Assassin, a watchmen fanfic

Trapper: Diary of an Assassin

Authors Note: This is a two part short story about an original character living in the Watchmen universe. It's been a while since I've written a story, and even longer since I've written one in journal form, but I'm hoping this plays out nicely. The part below is the first part of two. I'm presently working on the second and if it goes over well I'll post it soon. I hope you all enjoy it. Please review and let me know what you think.

Implied, anything in Watchmen belongs to Watchmen. I only stake claim to original characters involved.

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New York Police Department

MANHATTAN

FOR INTER-DEPARTMENTAL USE ONLY

The followings are the accounts of the hit man known as TRAPPER, born April 27th 1941, died October 21st, 1985. Journal discovered on her person during autopsy. Journal and its contents are permitted use in the case of one WALTER J. KOVACS. Any replication or reiteration of the following is strictly prohibited and violation as such is punishable by law.

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April 25 1951- Momma got me this book today. Said she bought it from Mrs. Eatons yard sale for $.98. Calls it a real bargan. I told momma I dont want it cause I got nottin to write about. She dont like that. Tells me to not act so rottin. Tells me to put what Im feelin down here. Says she cant play with me today. Aunt Sophies comin over. Shes gotta get ready. Im watchin her pin her hair back. She says Aunt Sophies here. Tellin me to go answer the door. But aint no one ever there.

April 27 1951- Its my birthday today. Daddy said it was my big girl day. I dont know what he means. Bunch of family came over. Got me lots of presents. My cousin Carrie and I played out in the yard. Daddy and Uncle Bill sat on the porch. Talked about before I was born. About the great war daddy fought in. Said they were proud of him. Asked how he was doin. Daddy smiled and got another beer. Carrie and I were playin Nancy Drew. We like to search the yard for clues. We found a penny. Carrie said it was special. We wanted to find out who it belonged to but Momma came out and said Aunt Sophie was here to see me. Daddy got mad. Told her to stop tellin me that. Momma threw lemonade in his face. Everybody went home.

April 28 1951-Momma called Aunt Sophie over for tea. She says I need to be nice today and not ignore her like I do. Says I dont never answer Aunt Sophies questions. I told momma I cant hear her like she can but momma didnt like that. She says Im actin rottin like daddy. Told me to go to my room till I learn some manners. Now mommas on the porch, drinkin tea alone and chattin with the air. I can hear her laughin like she just heard some funny joke. Now mommas callin. Says Aunt Sophie wants to ask me somethin. I dont like this game. I dont like Aunt Sophie.

May 1 1951- Momma says daddy's gone. Says he aint comin back neither. I don't know why. She's been sittin on the porch since I got home from school. Some men in blue shirts were here and a big white van with red letterin on it. They were talkin to momma. She didnt say nothin back. They took somethin out. Somethin under a white sheet. I asked momma what was goin on. She says daddy wasn't happy. I asked why. She didn't say nothin. Now its late and Im waitin for daddy to come home. Shes still sittin on the porch and I ask her when daddy'll be here. She says he ain't comin back. I don't believe her. Im still gonna wait.

Dates between May 2nd, 1951 to August 19th, 1955 missing. Presumed removed by TRAPPER before time of death.

August 20th, 1955-The principle says I'm a problem child. I'm not sure what he means by that. I'm no more trouble than the rest, but he says I cause disturbances. I told him Billy Marks deserved bein socked in the nose. He bullies people for the past two years, shoves 'em in lockers and steals their lunches, but he doesn't never get punished. I stand up for myself once and I'm the problem child. Principle says I broke his nose. I'm not sorry. Billy called my Mother a retard, said she was a nut. Called me the same. I'm not sorry. Principle says I need to apologize. I won't do it. He says he's gonna call my Mother. I tell him to go ahead. She'll just pretend he's Aunt Sophie anyways.

August 22nd, 1955- A man named Mr. Stevens came to my school today. He said he worked for the state and needed to ask me some questions. I knew what he was gonna ask. They were gonna ask about the fire. The fire I started to Billy Marks lawn. I figured they didn't know, that I'd gotten away clean. I was wrong.

August 24th, 1955- Mr. Stevens came to my house today, along with several other men in black suits. They spoke with my mother, wrote down everything she talked about. Mostly asked her about Aunt Sophie and my father. I'm guessing they didn't hear what they wanted to because they told me to go and pack. I asked them where I was going. They just said someplace I'd be taken care of. I told them I was fine but they don't believe me. Now Mother's crying and I'm not sure what's going on. She's telling them my father won't allow it. Mr. Stevens is telling me he'll help me pack faster.

August 27th, 1955- Mr. Stevens has brought me to a place called the Lillian Charlton Home for Problem Children. He says I'm to live here now. He says this is my new home. I told him I already have one. He doesn't seem to care. He introduced me to the head supervisor, a woman by the name of Susan Greenwood. I don't like her. She's fat and overly cheery for a woman her size. Her cheeks bulge like a squirrels and when she smiles you can see a gap between her two front teeth wide enough to drive a train through. She calls me 'sweetheart'. I told her to not call me that. She looked concerned. Mr. Stevens said "I told you". I don't know what he means.

They've settled me into a room in the girls hall. It's small, crowded. Four bunk beds in a match box with closets not even big enough to hang yourself in. I have three roommates. Problem children, like me. Tara, Brandy, and JoAnn. I don't know their stories, but they all look at me like Billy Marks did. Like I'm meat. They haven't said anything to me yet. I'm hoping it stays that way. I'm not looking to make friends. I don't plan on staying here that long.

September 16th, 1955- They've started me in classes. After weeks of prodding, I guess they figured I'm well enough to socialize. Enrolled me in a couple basics. Starting me off easy. Said I did badly after my fathers suicide, that I need to repeat a grade. I don't care where they put me. Just as long as it gets me out of my room and away from those girls.

I'm taking a few easy classes: Language Arts, American History, Remedial Math. I've also got a few hard ones, mainly Biology and Analytical Literature. The teachers are attentive. They know I'm newly admitted. "Still crooked," as JoAnn puts it. I'm sure they're walkin on egg shells with me, being careful to not push me back into whatever mind set they think I was in. They all call me 'sweetheart'. I really wish they wouldn't.

I don't know many of the kids in my classes. They're all older, been here longer than I have. Most of them are pretty tight knit, not really willing to take the new girl in, which is fine by me. I still don't want any friends. No point in making them.

September 17th, 1955- My mother called today. It seems she's checked herself into a hospital, some place she says is supposed to help her get better. She doesn't see Aunt Sophie as much any more, but the doctors say she has a long road ahead of her. I suppose that means I'll be staying here a little longer than I've hoped.

October 17th, 1955- Greenwood says she's concerned about me. Says I'm not progressing like I should. She says my grades are pretty stoic and I keep too much to myself. I told her I didn't see the point in makin friends. She told me that was silly, that I might as well make the best of the time that I have here. I asked her how much longer she thought that would be. She says till I make some significant headway. I asked her what that meant. She whistled through her teeth and told me to find a study buddy.

October 18th, 1955- I figured he was the best choice for a partner. Smart, serious, quiet like me. The teachers favored him, said he was very intellectual for his age. A little disturbed, didn't seem to have an easy time speaking to girls, shy I guessed. He was slightly nerdy looking, kind of mouse-ish, ears too big for his head, freckles, scraggly red hair. His name was Walter. The more popular, more immature kids called him 'Weird Wally' behind his back. They thought he was a freak cause he kept so much to himself. I suspected he was just like me. Didn't want any friends; didn't need them. Had that in common.

He takes the same literature class as me. Seen him a few times. Thought he was a little off. Sat by the window. Didn't talk to anyone unless addressed first, and sometimes not even then. Got along with the teacher. Always made A's. I was makin D's. Didn't get any of this analytical bull. Finding the hidden meanin behind the authors words. Could never understand why a poem about a tree couldn't just be about a tree. Don't have to stand for life, or maturity, or whatever else crap they say its about. Just a tree. But I guess that's why I'm makin D's.

After class I'd asked him for help. Will probably never forget the look he gave me. Blank. Nothin in it but silence. Wasn't sure if he heard me so I asked him again. Same result. Just continued to stare. Couldn't help myself, asked him what was wrong with him, asked if he was stupid or somethin. Guess he didn't like that cause he shoved past me and left. Greenwood's not gonna be pleased.

October 31st, 1955- Everyone's out trick-or-treating. I'm stayin in. Don't have a costume. Don't have no one to buy me one. Staff offered to make one. I said no thanks. Tried to call my Mother instead. Doctor's wont let me talk to her. They said she's takin a little fall in her progress. The meds aren't doing as well as they hoped. I asked if she was seein Aunt Sophie again. They said no. She's seein Dad.

Decided to go to the gymnasium. Figured it'd be empty. Was hoping I could get some alone time. Clear my head. Wasn't alone though. Walter was there, standin on his hands atop the polished wood of the balance beam closest to me. I hadn't been quiet when I came in so he saw me. I tried to speak an apology. He simply stared. His legs wavered only slightly above his head. I didn't move.

"You're good at that," I'd told him.

He continued to stare.

I'd cleared my throat uncomfortably. Not sure why I didn't just leave.

Eventually he swung his legs down and returned to a standing position on the beam. He turned on it, facing his back to me.

"Don't that make you dizzy?" I'd asked, trying to make light of the situation. Still couldn't make myself move. Felt almost obligated to acknowledge him after last time.

Surprisingly I heard a voice grumble a short, "No."

Wasn't quite sure what had confused me more then, the sound of his voice or the fact that he'd even spoken at all. It didn't seem natural to me for some reason. Sounded like an earthquake. Scared me a little. Note sure why. I don't remember then but for some reason after that I could move, and I did move, right out the door. I went as far away as I could from the gym that night. Went back to my room. Unfortunately, my roommates were there, stuffing their fat faces with candy and tossing all the healthy crap on the floor.

"That's for you," They has said, pointing to the pile of apples and toothbrushes in the center of the room, all their unwanted junk. They snickered a little. I figured I'd play nice. Figured it was the tiniest bit kind that they gave me anything. Picked up an apple. Took a bite. Next thing I know my tongue is bleedin.

November 2nd, 1955- All bandaged up. Can't talk much with this stuff wrapped around my tongue. Don't really mind it. Didn't have anyone I talked to anyways. At least now Greenwood is off my back about socializin. I think now she figures its not healthy for me at the moment. She's had me moved out my old room. Taken to a new one. Room with a single quiet girl named Jill now. She was abused by her father before she came here. Doesn't much like to mention it. Jill's obsessed with counting. She counts all the tiles on the ceiling seven times over before she goes to sleep at night. Not sure why.

I returned to my classes today. Teacher doesn't call on me on account of my tongue. I'm happy about that. Don't understand most of this stuff anyways. Don't really care to understand it. Couple of the kids started to tease me about my cut. They said I'd all swollen up, look like a chipmunk. The teachers made them stop teasin. They didn't make him stop though. Walter. Weird Wally. Starin at me the whole class period. I stared back a few times, lettin him know I know he's starin. Doesn't matter to him. He just keeps right on. Blank gaze. He didn't talk that day in class. I ignored him.

November 6th, 1955- Strange things happenin today. Gettin enemies I didn't provoke. Makin friends I didn't really want. Went outside after lit class. Had to breathe. All that analyzin done circles round my head. Went down behind the gym. Little alcove back there hidden away, where all the smokers hang out. Hopin no one was there. Ain't so lucky at findin empty places. Couple older kids were there, suckin on cancer. Three boys, recognized them from my Remedial Math class. Stupid boys, older but no good at passing anything. I went to leave. They saw me. Called out.

"Hey chipmunk!" One yelled at me, "Yea, you! Come 'er. Wanna show you somethin!"

I kept walkin. Didn't want anything to do with them. Guess they didn't like that cause they followed, hootin the whole time. Followed me all the way to the front of the gymnasium. Ground is flat there. Caught up with me quick. Wasn't sure what to do. They got in my way. Surrounded me. They whistled and laughed. Asked why I was runnin. Said they just wanted to show me somethin. Somethin every girl should know. I tried to tell them to leave me alone, but my tongue couldn't form the words. One of 'em grabbed my arm. I kicked out. Snapped one of them in the shin. He shouted. Let me go. The other two grabbed me.

Don't remember much of what happened then. One of 'em hit me cross the cheek. Went light headed. Fell to my knees. I remember laughter. I remember yellow teeth. Then I remember shoutin. Sound of somethin sputterin, and three boys runnin off, screamin like they just saw a ghost. Vision cleared up. Saw what all the shoutin was about. Weird Wally, standin in front of me, one of his fists red with somebody else's blood. He stared at me. I stared back.

Don't know how long we stared. Just kept that way. Didn't make no noise till I started coughing, tastin blood in my mouth.

His gaze didn't change, but he asked me in that short, monotone voice, "You alright?"

I muttered as best I could, "Yea."

Didn't say nothin more after that. I got up, nodded my thanks, and started walkin back to my room. Walter followed me the whole way. Didn't never look back, but I knew he was there.

November 16th, 1955- We don't never talk. Don't need to. Mouths healin up fine. Can talk, but don't want to. He just stares. I just stare. I changed seats. Sit further back now. Closer to the window and closer to him. He doesn't say nothin to me. Just points when he thinks I should be payin attention. I don't say nothin to him. Just look when he points. After class on Tuesdays and Thursdays he follows me to my room. I never look back to check if he's there. I kinda know when he is. Jill says she thinks he's a stalker. Says she thinks I should report him. I told her he's just keepin an eye on me. Jill huffs and counts the ceiling tiles.

December 2nd, 1955- I told Greenwood I have a friend in todays session. She seemed kinda shocked. She asked who it was. I told her Wally. Greenwood smiled. I focused on the gap between her two front teeth.

"What do you two talk about?" She asked, too bubbly.

"Nothin," I told her.

She stopped smilin. She flicked her pencil against her desk then. Seemed uncomfortable.

"Sweetheart," She said. I cringed. "What do you do with him?"

I looked up at her. She gawked at me.

"Honey," She seemed to choke on her words, "He… he isn't touching you, is he?"

I stared, confused. She must of noticed, cause she went on to describe one of the most disgusting things I'd ever heard.

"No!" I shouted. And I remember gettin up, wantin to puke. She tried to calm me down. I called her sick and stormed out. She told me to come back. I didn't. Don't wanna talk no more. Especially not to her. Not about that.

December 20th, 1955- Jill says people think we're together. I asked her who she meant. She said Wally and I. I told her that was stupid. She frowned and straightened the pillows on her bed for the hundredth time. Broke the habit of silence with Wally after that. Asked him if people had been tellin him the same thing. He looked at me. I looked back.

"Doesn't matter," He grumbled, and went back to studyin the book we were readin for lit. Edgar Allen Poe stories, whole big collection of them. I think he likes them. Kinda morbid. Might be why he likes it.

January 17th, 1956- My mother called today. Said she's getting better. Asked how I was doing. Told her about Wally. She laughed. Asked if I liked him. I told her he's my friend. She still laughed. Said thats a good way to start. Not sure what she means by that.

February 10th, 1956- Jill says a special day is coming up. Some holiday. Says she likes it cause of all the pink. I told her it was silly. She laughed at me and called me a hypocrite. I asked her what she meant. She didn't answer, just continued laughing.

February 14th, 1956- Jill gave me a card today, cut out of pink paper and heart shaped. She said I should give it to Wally. I asked her what for. She said I should ask him to be mine. I wasn't sure what she was implying.

Did as she asked though. Gave him the pink card. Scribbled 'Happy Valentines Day. Will you be mine?' inside it. Don't think he much liked it. Kind of freaked. Dropped the card and walked away. I shouted after him. Asked him if he didn't like the color. I don't much like the color either.

March 1st, 1956- Wally hasn't really talked to me in a while. Which is normal, I guess. What isn't is that he hasn't looked at me neither. Stopped following me after I gave him that card too. Stopped looking at me. Stupid card. Stupid Jill. Stupid Valentines day. Tried to get him to say something to me. Asked him about the meaning of a Robert Frost poem we were reading. "The Road Not Taken". He didn't acknowledge me. I think he might be mad.

March 28th, 1956- Wally wasn't in class today. Thinking something must be wrong. He never misses. Going to go see Greenwood after class. Ask her if Wally is ok.

March 29th, 1956- Greenwood says Wally is gone. Said he's been released. Said he left yesterday after news about his mother. I didn't understand. I asked her when he'd be back. She told me she didn't think he would. I'm not sure what this is. I don't really feel much like writing it down though. Don't really wanna think about it.

Dates between March 30th, 1956 to July 9th, 1961 missing. Presumed removed by TRAPPER before time of death.

July 10th, 1961- It's been a long time since I've written in this journal. Found it in an old shoe box of things I kept after Charlton. I remember it. I used to write in it all the time when I was younger. Not quite sure why I stopped. It's been too long to remember. Too long I suppose to really go back. Its missed a lot. A few things I suppose I should mention, to fill in the gaps. I left Charlton about three years ago, coming to live in New York City and take care of my Mother while she was being readmitted into society. That was going alright for a while, not too many spills. It was nice to have a sane conversation with her for once. We were getting to be friends again. Money was tight but we made do, till she had that heart attack in 1960. Hospital bills were horrendous and in the end they couldn't get her a new heart in time. I wasn't able to pay all the bills off. Most of my folks life savings had gone into her treatment. I lost the apartment and had to move into a smaller one with no walls to separate the bedroom from the kitchen/bathroom. Got a job as a waitress at Big Bill's Grill & Bar. It's bearable, but I don't earn enough to make ends meet. My co-worker Sarah said I'd make more if I'd let some skin show, but I've never really been one to flaunt flesh.

Instead I got a second job as a personal assistant for a woman by the name of Mrs. Margaret Rockwright. She's old money. Filthy rich, alone, and spoiled rotten. Jobs pretty grueling. She often calls me in the early morning asking for an outrageous amount of things done in an extraordinarily short amount of time. I deal with it though. The pays good and I need this job. Sides, if I get all my work done she's pretty generous with the tipping. Plus, if I'm good, she pretends not to notice when I borrow a few items from her pantry. Overall, things are tolerable. Not great. They could be better, but I'm not going to complain. They could always be worse.

July 17th, 1961- Big Bill's Grill & Bar has come up with a new drink. A bright blue martini inspired by this super everyone apparently loves called Dr. Manhattan. The Blue Bomb. Sarah came up with it. She's a bit of a fanatic. Says blue is her favorite color. She drew little hydrogen atoms on the glasses with a black marker. Says its his symbol. I shrug and don't think much about it. Following these 'heroes' isn't exactly a past time of mine. Unlike most of this city. I prefer to spend what little free time I have reading. Richard Matheson, John Steinbeck, Shakespeare, Hemingway. These are the people I focus on. And Edgar Allen Poe. Not sure why, but I love his work most of all.

July 23rd, 1961- Sarah says I need a hobby, and by a hobby she means a man. I told her I'm not too keen on dating at the moment. She says I'm too uptight, which means I only need a man more than usual. She doesn't get it. Most men I meet on a daily basis are just too obnoxious. Arrogant, loud, all so full of their own greedy selves. Not my type. They talk too much. They look at the world and see something to stomp on, to beat into submission beneath them. I'm not the submissive sort. Sarah says a woman can rule over a man, but that its a quiet, manipulating craft. I'm not the manipulative type either. I prefer to not get my hands dirty. She still thinks I need one. I told her I don't. I don't need anyone.

July 25th, 1961- Bad day. Lost my job at Big Bill's. Punched a customer in the jaw for grabbing my ass. Defending myself. Bill says I overreacted. I told Bill it was sexual harassment. Bill said what I did was assault. Gender equality, bull shit. There's still no fairness for women in this world. Doesn't matter. As long as I can keep my job with Mrs. Rockwright I'll be able to scrape by. Told Bill to go screw himself and stormed out. Sarah called me later that night. Said she was going to miss me. Sad to say I don't feel the same.

August 1st, 1961- Mrs. Rockwright say's I'm too unkept to be seen with her in public. She says I look like a wild dog. I said that wasn't plausible, that I don't even have a tail. She didn't think that was funny. She says that if I want to continue working for her I have to take some pride in myself. I look in the mirror. See my dark, curly friz for hair. See my brown, sunken eyes. My pale skin, my dirty finger nails, my chapped lips. She's right. I look like death.

August 21st, 1961- I think some cosmic force has it out for me. Mrs. Rockwright called at three this morning, ranting about some charity ball she was to attend later this evening. I knew right away it was going to be one of her impossible missions. Needed a new dress, a better dress, something flattering to her figure. Bit my tongue, kept myself from saying she's in her seventies and doesn't have much of a figure left. A custom made dress is what she wanted. Gave me the address of a dressmaker downtown. Told me she'd been a client with them for years. Some place called Mantua's.

I made it downtown at 6 a.m., right when Mantua's opened. Lights from the store popped on about 6:01. I got up and watched from the outside, waiting for someone to unlock the front door. When the worker did come answer the door, he wasn't quick about it. The man slunk over slowly, heavily, and he paused at the door to look at me before opening it. I stared back at him through the glass and shivered.

The man stood a foot or two above me and stared back at me with oddly unexpressive brown eyes. He was thin, lean. Had a very sharp face, but not a particularly handsome one. Freckles, overly prominent nose, drooped eyelids, some what mouse like ears. Red, unkept hair. Familiar, but I didn't have time to think on it. As he clicked open the front door I put on my best thankful smile. He didn't return it. I caught the door as it swung out to me and he turned to walk back behind the front counter. I let the door close behind me and tiptoed to the counter. It was quiet in the shop, a dead sort of quiet. There were pictures of women modeling clothing hung on the walls. They looked sickly ecstatic. Didn't seem to fit in the place. I frowned at them. The man behind the counter stared.

"So, uh," I stumbled and pulled out the paper I'd written Rockwright's instructions on, "I've got this order. My employer says she's a client of yours. Says the designer knows her well. Are you the designer?"

The man shook his head.

"Oh. Look, when the designer gets in, can you give him this order?" I read from the paper, "Mrs. Margaret L. Rockwright needs a party gown for tonight. She didn't really say what she wanted but she said she needs something completely unique that compliments her figure." I couldn't help but laugh a little.

He still stared at me, unamused.

"So, anyway, she told me to note that she doesn't want anything black. Reminds her too much of funerals. She said you all would have her measurements on file. And that's about all I know. Short notice, I know. I'm sorry. But when do you think it can be done?"

He stared at the paper. I stared at him. He stared back at me. Red never answered me, just took the paper and told me to come back later. At 5 p.m. I picked the dress up. Red wasn't there, just a fat balding man who smiled at me too much. Took the dress and was at Mrs. Rockwright's by 5:30. The dress was purple. She loved it. At 6, Mrs. Rockwright got ready for the party.

The dress didn't fit. She blames me.

August 22nd, 1961- Rockwright fired me today. Hope she chokes on her dentures. She says I haven't lived up to her standards. It's cause of that damn dress. It's all that red headed boys fault. Got the order wrong. Hope he suffers a fatal collision with a bus.

August 25th, 1961- Haven't been able to find another job. My landlady is threatening me with eviction. Don't have enough saved up to pay her. Greedy whore. Considering going back to Mantua's and hitting Red over the head with a tire iron. Also considering sneaking in to Rockwright's house and smothering her with one of her frilly pillows. Decided homicide isn't the best solution to problem. Will have to think of ways that involve less dead bodies. Hard to do.

August 26th, 1961- Came home to find my things on the street today. Most of it was just sprawled out here like she threw it from the third story window. There was an eviction notice on top of everything. Noticed a good portion of my things were missing. Figured she must've started packing me up after I left this morning. Someone probably came along and took anything they fancied. The silver locket my father gave me before he died; mothers engagement ring. Both gone. What money I had left, stored in the bottom of a music box my cousin Carrie once gave me. Thats gone too. Everything left is crap. Won't sell for shit. I don't know what to do, how to act. I can't think clearly. I can't. This city is circling around me. A wolf, a wolf that preys on girls like me. As I write this I've curled myself into an alley behind Big Bill's. I'm sort of hoping Bill comes out back. Sees how bad off I am. Maybe he'll give me my job back. Should've never punched that guy. Take comfort in the thought that things can't get worse. Course as I write that I can hear voices coming down the alley. Men. Loud. Shouting. Drunk. Please God, make me small. Don't let them see me.

Dates between August 27th, 1961 to November 10th, 1978 missing. Presumed removed by TRAPPER before time of death.

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