Watchmen: Red Son
Author's Note: this story is kind of an 'Elseworlds' story. I took elements from Superman: Red Son, and threw in a few of my own ideas.
April 1st, 1962, 06:23…
The phone rang by the man's bedside table. He stirred in bed for a moment, and then picked up the phone. He didn't want to wake his wife up.
"Walter Kov…I mean, Walter Colfax, New Frontiersman," he said
"Walter, its Seymour," said a nervous voice, "Have you heard the news?"
"No, what is it?"
"It's the Russians."
Walter sat bolt-upright in bed. The R-word scared him.
"What have they done now?" Walter nervously reached under the bed, where his gun was
"Well, last night this scientist, who they thought had been killed in a nuclear explosion, he came back and…he's powerful."
"How powerful? Are we talking Coney Island Strongman, or…"
"On the video they had on the news, he could blow up tanks from one hundred feet away, he could teleport himself directly inside a nuclear explosion, and he survived."
"I'd better get to the office," Walter pulled on his trousers, "Laurie, I'm going to work now."
The office of the New Frontiersman was very busy, considering how small the offices were. Walter walked right to his office, where his reporters were standing.
"OK, Seymour, tell me everything you know about this guy: who he is, where he came from, what was he working on?"
"They're calling him Dr. Nuclear," Seymour said, "Apparently, he used to be Dr. Osterov, but he supposedly got shut in an intrinsic field subtraction machine. He came back to life last night, but other people say they saw him as a skeleton or a hovering brain…"
"I have pictures," Bernie added
He handed Walter a photo. Walter stared at it; there was a bald blue man, almost seven feet tall, wearing a black jumpsuit.
"What's that on his forehead?"
"Hammer and sickle. It's his symbol."
A man walked into the office later that day. He was a tall man, wearing his air force uniform.
"Excuse me," he growled, turning to Seymour, "I had an appointment with Mr. Colfax."
"He's…" Seymour saw the look in the man's eyes. Pitch black. Like the devil's eyes, "I'll go get him."
"Hurm…"
"Major Dreiberg!" Walter called, "Thanks for coming in."
"Thanks for letting me come," Dreiberg replied, "Yours is the only newspaper I like."
"Uh huh…" Walter was nervous, "So, what's the military's stance on Dr. Nuclear?"
"We've already positioned our spy satellites to monitor his every move, but there's nothing stopping him from shooting them down."
"Can he do that?"
"Probably. Colonel Mason has ordered all our scientists to analyze him, trying to find his weakness."
"Could I have the names of the scientists?"
Major Dreiberg handed him a card.
"Come by the base when you get off work. I'll introduce you."
Major Dreiberg left the building, but he was not alone. Walter Colfax had walked into the archives, and locked the door. The room was dark, and had several bookcases full of newspapers. Walter slid one aside, and revealed his hidden tunnel.
"I love this part," he grinned
Walter walked inside, and shut the bookcase behind him. Lights turned on, illuminating the tunnel, and revealing a hat stand. Walter took down the coat, and reached into the pockets. He slid his metal mask and gloves on, his own design. The metal mask was white, with a black Rorschach design in the middle. Walter chose it based on his desire to cure the city, and remembering the people his psychiatrist father had cured with his Rorschach paintings. The mask, the coat, and the gloves were all part of his secret identity. When he put them on, he shed his mild-mannered tendencies, and became The Rorschach, vigilant vigilante.
The Rorschach walked out of his tunnel, and saw Major Dreiberg getting into his car. Quickly, he climbed up the building's fire escape, and ran across the rooftops, following the Major. The base was five miles from the New Frontiersman; The Rorschach could make it if he tried. He leapt across the local deli and up to an apartment block, and realized Dreiberg wasn't going to the base. A couple of streets away, Dreiberg stopped in front of a garage, and walked to the apartment on top of it. The Rorschach took out his binoculars, and looked through the windows. Dreiberg was talking to some grey haired old man.
"He looks familiar…" The Rorschach said to himself
The curtains closed, and The Rorschach let out a loud groan. But, he took a deep breath, and forgot his anger. He reached to his coat pocket, and took out one of his books; he always kept a paperback with him whenever he went on patrol. This week, it was The Fountainhead.
Soon, Dreiberg left the apartment, and drove back to the base. The Rorschach climbed to the ground, and walked across the road. He knocked on the door.
"Coming…" came a voice
The door opened, and The Rorschach realized where he recognized the man from; he was Edward Blake, formerly the crime fighter known as Punch-Line. He foiled several crimes, and his signature move was his left hook. The Rorschach had read his book.
"Mr. Blake, sir," The Rorschach said, in his deeper voice, "I'd like to talk to you."
"Ah, another story seeker?" Blake grinned, "Come inside. I just made lemonade."
The Rorschach walked inside. He saw the place was very clean; Punch-Line's old uniform hung above the fireplace; it was a yellow boiler suit, with a laughing-face belt buckle.
"Actually, I'm an investigative reporter," he said, "I'd like to talk to you about the man who just came to see you."
"Oh, that's just Daniel," Blake sat down in his chair, "He comes round every week or so, talks to me about the air force."
The Rorschach took out his notepad.
"I seem to remember, you served in World War Two, along with several other Anti-Crime Clan members. I happen to know one of them is now the superior of Major Dreiberg."
Blake adjusted his position in the seat.
"And there's this incident with that Russian Ubermensch, coincidentally," The Rorschach could see Blake was nervous, "And according to your war record, you were an expert sniper. Rumor has it you were able to puncture Hitler's tires from one hundred feet away."
Blake shifted around.
"I think you'd better leave," he said
"OK," The Rorschach put away his notepad, "I'll be watching you."