Rorschach's Companion, a watchmen fanfic

Prologue

Rorschach keeps an extremely detailed journal, cateloging his experiences, suspicions, and sometimes even his feelings on a certain subject. I often read it, with his permission of course. Sometimes he even suggested I read it because he is better able to express himself in writing than he does with words.

He remarked, more than a few times, that I should keep one as well but I was never interested in it. To me it seemed like too much trouble to bother. Besides that, his writing intimdates me. He is so eloquent that he may have been a poet in another life. Well, the work he does is his art form in this life.

I expressed my feelings on the subject of the journal and he suggested I write an autobiography, if for no other reason than because he wanted me to. He wanted part of my life in some other form, in case my dare devil antics ever caught up with me. I grudgingly agreed to write it. "A short one." I promised him.

I decided to start on the day I was found by Rorschach because that was the day I was truly born. If anyone should find this and read it, I hope they are satisfied.

It was raining on the night I met Rorschach. The water pouring down from the skies was the only clean thing that could be found in this rotting city. The cold water splashing against the sun baked cement radiated a smell that was almost unbearable. After a while you were able to tolerate it but you never got used to it. The drops pelted down on my head and shoulders, the thin coat I was wearing didn't protect me for long. Soon I was soaked to the bone. I didn't mind, the rain helped wash away the grease smell that accumulated in my hair and clothes. It washed away the feeling of disgust I felt whenever a drunk customer felt it necessary to paw at my bare legs.

Being sexualized was part of being a waitress. Hell, it was part of being a woman. It was just something you learned to live with if you wanted a roof over your head. As if to punctuate my thoughts, a van passed by and honked it's horn at me. It wasn't an uncommon experience but it always caught me by surprise when men attempted to pick me up while in my waitressing uniform.

"Hey Honey!" A balding man leaned out of his window to call to me. "You need a ride?"

I glanced his way and I didn't like what I saw. I tried to convince myself that maybe he was just trying to be nice. It was raining, after all. But his face frightened me, the crazed look in his eyes as they trailed up and down my rain soaked form, the spittle still wet on his lips. I turned my attention to my feet. 'Eyes to the ground. That's how you stay safe, eyes to the ground, look at no one, mind your own business.' I repeated the soliloquy over and over, trying to lull myself into some sense of security.

I watched in the rain puddles as the van moved past me and slowly rolled to a stop. My heart skipped a beat. I looked around, hoping to find someone who might be able to help. The street was empty, dark buildings looming over it, silent witnesses. I doubt anyone would've helped me, even if they were on the street.

Aside from Rorschach and The Comedian, the group that called themselves The Watchmen was probably the best thing to happen to this wretched city. The kind of luck I had though pretty much guaranteed that I would either be rescued by a psychopath or kidnapped by one. I hoped desperately that it was the prior.

The Watchmen was started, a few years back, by the same group of people that would come to persecute them later. Police officers. Back then, most serious criminals hid behind masks. If they happened to be caught, which wasn't often, they would have to be released anyway because witnesses to any of their crimes couldn't pick them out of a line up. Then, one day, Hollis Mason, who was the original Night Owl, and a few friends decided to don masks and go after them. Exact justice when the penal system couldn't.

"Hey! I'm talking to you!" The man jeered at me, sounding more angry than friendly now, as I passed his van, giving it a wide berth but making no other attempt to avoid it. I didn't want to intice him anymore than I already had. The sound of the van door opening startled me and I instinctively looked behind me. Mistake. I should've made a run for it but the split second I took to look behind me before I started running ruined me. What's that old saying? Curiosity killed the cat?

This kitten was in big trouble now. My eyes widened as the big man stepped from his vehicle and lunged at me. I spun around, preparing to run but stars lit up the sky before I could move one step. My head jerked back violently, straining my neck as he caught the loose tendrils of hair and used them to yank me to him. I felt like he tore out my skull, the pain so great I could barely react to his scummy arms being wrapped around my waist. I knew this was it, he was going to rape me and no one was going to help me.

He began dragging me backward and at that moment I knew he was going to do something much worse. I wasn't only going to be raped. If that were the case he would've done it there in the street. No, he was dragging me to the van. In the face of impending death, humans often find some hidden strength that lay dormant inside them, waiting for the right moment to make itself known. I found that hidden strength that night. I began to fight, and fight hard. I screamed loud as I drove my elbow backward into the man's distended belly. Alcohol tainted breath rushed out between his lips and he jabbed me hard in the ribs. I cried out, tried to scream again but he clapped a grimy hand over my mouth. I bit down on it, a chunk of flesh tearing away from it when he tried to pull away. Blood flooded my mouth and I struggled not to gag on it. It was his turn to cry out but my triumph didn't last very long.

"You fuckin' bitch." He growled, wrapping his uninjured arm around my neck, choking off my air supply. My screaming was cut short but I didn't cease my struggle until his large fist connected with the side of my face. My vision started going gray around the edges and I knew what was about to happen. 'No!' I thought, 'No! If I faint now it'll be over.' I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted blood but it was no use. I couldn't get any air. I was surprised when I realized that the awful whistling sound I heard distantly was coming from my closed throat. My eyes bulged painfully from their sockets as pressure built up in my skull. My arms and legs began to get heavy, the whistling sounds began to fade. In fact, all sounds faded as my body slumped against him.

He threw my lifeless body into the back of his van, cursing under his breath, with no witnesses save the greasy gutter rats that scurried in the night. Searching for scraps or the occasional carcass. The creatures watched the struggle without fear or distress. Maybe the simple hope of a meal soon to come twinkled in their eyes but that was forgotten as the van drove away, black smoke spewing from the exhaust.

The sound of crying began to pull me from my unwilling slumber. I could feel myself being dragged up from the comforting blackness and I tried to fight it. I knew what awaited me in the waking world and I didn't want to face it.

The pain greeted me before my eyes were even opened. The tightness of the skin on my face just above my eye suggested it was already badly swollen, my head was throbbing, my throat felt like it was lined with glass, even my ribs hurt from where he held me so tight.

Finally, I opened my eyes, trying to see through the darkness. I blinked several times before I could make out a small figure huddled in the corner. My brain slowly connected it to the crying.

I ignored the second person and brushed the tangled mass of my hair out of my face to look at my surroundings a little closer. It was hard to see. The streetlights barely shown through the cracks of the only window in the room. I slowly got to my feet, letting my body adjust to the movement and my eyes to adjust to the darkness. I soon realized that I was locked in a room. Just an ordinary, tiny bedroom. There was nothing in it except for a few rags on the floor.

The window, I realized, wasn't letting in light because it was draped with wooden boards. I tested a few of the boards for weaknesses but they were nailed in tight and there was nothing in the room to help with leverage. I walked slowly to the door now, tip toeing, afraid to let this man be aware that I was awake.

Pressing my ear against the door I heard nothing at first. But then I heard him, he sounded like he was talking to someone but I couldn't hear any response, which probably meant he was on the phone. I reached my hand down to try the knob but there was nothing there. Confused, I knelt down for a closer look. There was a dark hole where the knob should be and I was able to look through it, into the other room. The man was pacing back and forth, telephone in hand. He was obviously stressed.

"I want my daddy." The little girl whimpered from her corner, pulling my attention from the door. She had tucked herself so tightly in the corner, I could barely make out her figure from a distance of five feet.

"I know, sweetie." My voice came out in a whispered croak. Grice, I later found out the kidnappers name, had choked me good. I winced and put a hand to my throat, trying to sound comforting through the dryness. I crouched down in front of the girl, keeping my distance. She didn't need to be frightened anymore than she already was.

"What's your name?" I asked gently, reaching out a hand that coaxed her from her corner.

"Blaire. Blaire Roche." She sniffled, wiping a dirty hand across her running nose. Blaire Roche. Why was that name so familiar? The girl inched toward me. She was terrified but she needed a grown ups touch. Someone to make her feel safe. I wrapped her up in my arms and held her while she cried, rocking gently. It felt good to have a reason to stay strong. I sat with my back against the wall in a corner of the room. Blaire laid in my lap.

The phone conversation on the other side of the door got louder, more angry. I instinctively held the girl tighter and she paused in her crying to listen.

"What do you mean she's not the right girl?" Our kidnapper, Grice, shouted. Suddenly it hit me. Blaire Roche. As in the Roche Chemical Company. They must've kidnapped her for a ransom. "Bus driver?" The man nearly screamed, irate now, barely in control. I could hear him pacing back and forth in the other room.

"Like my daddy." She whispered softly, as if she was confiding some big secret. "He's a bus driver."

I held the girl even tighter. Damn it. They had the wrong girl. What kind of idiot criminals were these people? Same name or not. How could they get the wrong girl? I doubted very highly they were going to just recognize their mistake and let the child go.

The man swore loudly and there was a bang against the wall of our room. Most likely it was the phone. And then there was silence. That had to be worst of all. The silence. The unknown. Heavy footsteps approached the door and I heard a jingle of keys. Panic rose in my throat like bile. He was coming for the girl.

Blaire whimpered in my arms and I shoved her off of me. He couldn't have her. It wasn't fair. She was just a child. I had to protect her. I wouldn't exactly call it a maternal instinct that kicked in after that. Just the inability to withstand such an injustice, the willingness to put myself in harms way to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. I crouched low, keeping my body between the door and the girl.

When it began to creep open I threw myself at my captor, biting and punching him, aiming my knees at his groin. Trying to hold him off for just long enough. "Run Blaire, run!" I screamed at her but she would have to squeeze past us both to get out and she was too scared. She missed the only chance I could give her. Grice grabbed me by the hair, exposing my face long enough for him to slam his fist into the middle of my forehead. My knees buckled and I collapsed to the floor.

Still conscious but immobile I was helpless to save the girl. I was forced to watch our kidnapper scoop up the screaming, wriggling girl and carry her out of the room. "No, wait." I croaked, crawling slowly toward the door as it closed shut, barely missing my fingers. I crawled my way into a kneeling position, my body pressed heavily against the door, my hand weakly hitting the wood.

I was stunned by the hit but soon, by sheer will and the sound of the girls screams, my strength began to pour back into my body. I banged the door with my hands and feet. I might've been able to break out but the door opened into the room, which meant I would need to have the strength to take the door completely off it's hinges. I screamed at the top of my lungs for him to stop, for help, for anything, I even slammed my body into the door a couple of times. None of it helped but I didn't stop until the screams abruptly ended.

When they did, my body slumped to the ground in a quivering mass of tears, blood and sweat. Was this to be my fate? Was I only waiting for him to come in here and drag me to whatever torture chamber he had out there?

It was so silent for so long that for a moment I thought the screams might've stopped because he simply took her out of the building. Then I heard a thick chopping sound. My brows furrowed in confusion and I looked through the key hole to see what was happening. A dim flourescent bulb lit the room clear enough to see that the place was trashed. It was just a kitchen, nothing more. I could see Grice leaning over the kitchen counter.

He raised his hand high above his head, bringing it down with a furious chop. My brain couldn't comprehend what exactly was going on, it refused to. My eyes flickered away from the killer to the counter, seeing movement. A small hand jerked as the killer's arm came crashing down. My eyes widened as Grice's arm came up again, high enough for me to see the meat cleaver shining in the minimal lighting. The weapon slammed down and the tiny arm twitched again before sliding to the ground with a sick thud. Finally, I realized what was happening. I scrambled to a corner of the tiny room and vomited my late dinner. I cupped my hands over my ears to block out the sound, crying all the while, trying to unsee what I had seen. Somehow, miraculously, I fell asleep.

When I woke up again it was still night. I had no way of knowing if it was the same night or if I had slept through the day. It didn't matter anyway. Time was nothing without life, and I could feel every second being leeched out of me. Every second was one step closer to the fate of that poor little girl.

I crawled slowly to the door. Every muscle in my body was sore. Gently I pressed an ear to the cold wood and listened. My breathing stopped so I could hear more clearly. Nothing. He could've been asleep but I couldn't hear any snoring. This was my only chance to escape. "Yeah right." I croaked aloud, running a hand through my tangled hair. If I couldn't escape when that poor girl was being tortured to death then I wasn't going to be able to escape now. I peeked through the key hole again but saw nothing. The kitchen was completely dark.

Minutes passed as I debated my alternatives. I finally decided that I would wait until he opened the door again and then attack him a second time. I had to fight for my life, no matter the outcome.

The next sound I heard wasn't the soft opening and closing of the front door by an owner. The sound I heard was a loud crack, the sound of a door being kicked open. The slam reverberated off the walls and I had to clap my hand over my mouth to stifle a surprised yell. My eye was glued to the small opening, the moonlight shining through enough for me to make out the shadow of a man standing in the mangled doorway.

If it was the police they would have announced themselves but they didn't. This had to be someone else, maybe someone more dangerous. I remained quiet. The shadow moved about the small room, checking cabinets, drawers. I could hear the sounds of him rustling, a light sound of metal clinking together when he opened the cabinet above the kitchen counter. I couldn't understand why this person wasn't investigating this room. Then I realized that it must be disguised somehow. Probably covered with wallpaper.

I didn't move a muscle, I didn't want to be found. Maybe whoever it was would just leave. I watched the man cross the room to look out of a small window. Abruptly, he walked out the front door. I moved away from the bedroom door then. There was no reason to look if he just left. But he didn't.

There was the faint sound of a soft growl followed by a yelp right outside. There were dogs out there. It's a good thing I didn't try to escape through the window. I would've been eaten alive. The other dog barked threateningly and what sounded like a struggle began. The growling and barking turned to choked whimpering. I covered my ears again to block out the sound of the dog being choked to death by the shadowed figure.

Maybe the person Grice was arguing with over the phone had come by to teach him a lesson for making such a huge mistake. I didn't know. All I knew was that I didn't want this person to know I was here until I got more information about this silent killer, which didn't seem like it was going to be happening very soon. When the dog went silent, so did everything else. The seconds turned into minutes and the minutes turned into... well, you get the idea.

All of my senses were on a razor's edge as I waited for something to happen. It seemed like forever as the seconds ticked by with no sound but my own heartbeat slamming in my ears.

Then, the broken front door squealed on their abused hinges as someone entered the house. I swallowed hard, my abdomen beginning to knot up as I flew to the hole in the door. It was Grice, he had a gun. He walked into the room clumsily. To him it must've felt stealthy but when compared to the previous visitor he was like a bull in a china store.

I was startled into a gasp when something large crashed through the window. It was so large that I mistook it for the shadowed figure jumping through. It landed against Grice and he stumbled before catching his balance on the table. He shown his light down to the floor, revealing the corpse of one of the dogs I'd heard dying earlier. "Oh my God. Who's out there? Who is it?" Grice yelled as he realized what he was looking at.

I swallowed hard. That dog had to be at least 70 pounds and who ever was in here before was able to not only lift it but throw it hard enough to make it crash through a window. As if on cue, another window smashed in, the other dog. This time the corpse knocked Grice to the floor, his head hitting the small wood stove hard enough to stun him momentarily.

"Oh my God!" The killer screamed. I would remember the sound of his voice forever. The shadow was on him in an instant, coming out of no where it seemed. Within seconds Grice was handcuffed to the stove. I couldn't help the menacing grin that spread across my features. It was his turn to be scared now.

The man screamed out profanities, demanding to know who his attacker was. The smaller man tossed something at Grice's chest but I couldn't see what it was. Grice looked at it for a moment before tossing it behind him, toward me. It landed on the floor in front of my door and I stared down in horror at the pair of tiny, burnt underwear.

Grice eventually confessed to the murder of Blaire Roche. The poor little girl that I managed to comfort in her final moments on Earth.

Grice spoke more, it sounded like he was asking to be arrested but I couldn't be sure. Everything was so muffled behind the door. The air was thick with tension. The shadow moved quickly, lifting the meat cleaver high above his head.

"Wait! No! Don't do that! I need help, take me in!" My kidnapper cried, truly afraid now. I could feel more than see the apprehension in the shadowed figure. As if he was debating with himself. I waited for the choice to be made. The begging was cut short suddenly as the cleaver came down hard, nearly slicing Grice's head clean in half.

"Men get arrested... Dogs get put down." A deep, muffled voice sounded. It was so soft behind the door that I could barely make out the words. Then he ripped the blade from the corpse and brought it down again and again. I could hear the blood splashing against the walls, almost feel the tremors of impact. Bile began to rise in my throat. I gagged on it. There was nothing I could do to stop the sound.

The chopping stopped and I knew the shadow had heard me. When he found me I would be helpless to fight him off. Grice was impossible to take and he was just murdered by this faceless person.

I heard something sliding along the edges of the door. Most likely he was looking for the opening. I crouched in the farthest corner of the room and grabbed the only weapon I could find. A filthy rag from the pile on the floor. I held one in front of me as if preparing to taunt a bull. I don't know what I was thinking, maybe throwing it at him to cause a distraction was what my body thought but my mind was totally consumed by terror.

The door cracked open with the sound of breaking wood and bounced off the wall. The person who entered the room caught me completely by surprise. The small-ish man wore a black and white mask made from a material that seemed alive. The black dots circled his face in an ever shifting display.

Rorschach is known amoung the hero community as a violent, never compromising, sociopathic detective with extreme right wing conservative views on morality. He had never killed another human before that night. Years later, he described the event in his journal with "It was Walter Kovacs who said 'mother' then, muffled under the latex. It was Walter Kovacs who closed his eyes. It was Rorschach who opened them again." From then on he was only Rorschach.

I still held the rag in front of me but slumped to my knees. I didn't know if he would kill me, thinking I had something to do with Blaire's death, but I just couldn't stand up any longer. "Please... don't hurt me." Tears were flowing freely now, stinging my wounded face. Rorschach was staring down at me with his head cocked slightly to the side, like a confused dog, trying to take in the entire situation.

"Hrm" He growled. He stuffed his gloved hands into his trenchcoat pockets, turned and walked out of the room.

"W-wait. Don't leave me!" I scrambled to my feet and followed him out of the room which led into the blood stained and body riddled kitchen. He acted as if I wasn't even there. I saw the body of Grice, unable to stop the scream that erupted from my throat. I ran to Rorschach's side, burying my face into his arm. His smell wasn't exactly pleasent, it smelled of molded trash mixed with his natural scent, but it was like heaven compared to the stench in the kitchen.

He instinctively snatched his arm away from me, growling. I covered my swollen face, fearing he might hit me in his anger. The kidnapper was sitting up against the wood stove but I wouldn't have recognized him in a line up. His face and skull were torn apart, his skin falling off in flaps, his right eye bulging sightlessly from its socket. I swallowed hard and put my hands around my eyes trying to form blinders. "Please." I hiccuped and reached out to feel my way but tripped over one of the dogs. It's head was split open. My eyes caught sight of the other dog, what seemed to be a bone stuffed down its throat. At the end of the bone held a tiny shoe.

My tears were blinding me and I was too afraid to move. I didn't want to see anymore, the stench was overwhelming. A strong hand gripped my upper arm. "This way." His deep voice rumbled and I gladly clung to him, soon he led me out of the building and into the night air.

I blinked up at Rorschach's ever changing mask for a moment or two, still gripping his arm, trying to adjust my eyes to the streetlights. He wasn't very tall for a man, let alone a hero but he was my savior. And psychopathic or not, I loved him almost instantly.

Everything was so surreal. I couldn't believe I made it out alive, that all this had even happened to me. I opened my mouth to say something, anything but before I could he grunted and walked past me. He was too strong for me to hold onto him. "Wait! Where are you going? I don't even know where I am!"

He turned to look at me and pointed south. "Hospital that way." I glanced down the dark street and turned back to look at Rorschach but he was already walking away. I started after him again, fear clutching at my throat. I didn't want to walk into the darkness alone.

"But wait, I-"

"Don't follow me." He growled menacingly over his shoulder. His voice stopped me in my tracks and I watched him effortlessly climb up onto a roof via fire escape that was easily fifteen feet off the ground. I hugged my arms around myself and walked in the direction he pointed out.

But I didn't go to the hospital that night. I called a cab from the first phone I saw and went home. I cried myself to sleep for weeks after that.

It was almost a month before I saw Rorschach again. I looked for him when I went out at night, which wasn't very often anymore. I got fired from my job because they couldn't accommodate my need for day hours. My rent was over due and there was an eviction notice on my door when I went out that morning. I needed another job bad. But apparently women should only work nights according to the last interviewer I had.

I tore up the piece of paper that was about to ruin my life. I had no way of paying the rent, no friends or family. Everything I had once dreamed about was coming to an end. I stuffed the shreds of paper into the over flowing trash can that sat on the side walk in front of the shabby apartment building I lived in.

Sighing heavily I walked toward downtown, enjoying the feeling of the sun on my back. It was probably going to be the last warm day before winter really dug in its claws. Walking past a local newspaper stand I noticed a homeless man, with a shock of red hair, staring at me. He was holding a sign. "THE END IS NIGH" it read.

"Ain't that the truth." I mumbled under my breath and squeezed past him and another man who was buying a newspaper. A familiar scent caught my attention and I whipped around to stare between the homeless man and the customer. Where did I know that smell from? The smell of garbage could be found all over the city but that's not what caught my attention. My eyes narrowed on the hobo but his gaze never wavered. It was as if he recognized me. I opened my mouth to speak when I was shoved from behind by an angry pedestrian. I was hogging the sidewalk. I looked behind me to see who had pushed me and to let them pass. "Asshole." I mumbled as the man moved past me.

When I turned back the homeless man was gone and I suddenly remembered the smell, his smell. "Rorschach." I whispered to myself before starting off in the only direction he could've gone. The sidewalk was packed but I could easily spot the carrot top out of the crowd of bustling people. I didn't call out to him, I didn't try to catch up to him. I just watched.

I followed at a good distance to make sure he didn't know I was there but close enough so that I wouldn't lose him. The crowd eventually thinned out as we got further and further from the downtown area. The buildings began to look more menacing, even in the daylight hours. I took to hiding on the corners of alley's but my eyes never left him and he never looked back. He carried the sign on his shoulder, walking casually, like nothing could touch him. Was that really him? Or was this stranger leading me into a trap?

Suddenly, he turned and I ducked my head back into the alley I was peeking out from, pressing my back against the cold brick, trying to slow my breath. I wet my lips and after a moment I gathered the courage to peek around the corner. He was gone. "Shit." I mumbled under my breath. I moved from my hiding spot, looking around the intersection but he could've gone anywhere. I lost him. I turned around to go back downtown and was met by the familiar ever changing mask. Seeing him made me feel calm, allowing me to forget my unemployment, my impending eviction.

"What are you doing?" He demanded, taking a step toward me. I blinked several times, not able to believe I was following the wrong person.

"I-" I looked around, searching for that red hair. Could he have circled around that fast? I swallowed hard, suddenly aware of him staring at me and I saw him for what he was. A killer, someone who is unphased by tearing someone's face apart, a psychopath. But I could feel no fear, even with his aggressive stance in place I knew he wouldn't hurt me. I was innocent and he was my savior. "Was that-?" I jerked a thumb behind me, still too surprised to finish a sentance.

"Hrm." Was his only response and I had to force myself to stifle a semi hysterical giggle.

"The end is nigh?" I asked stupidly. He cocked his head to the side, staring at me before turning and walking back down the alley, away from me. But before he turned I could've sworn I saw a small, almost imperceptible nod. The smile that broke across my face was the first in a long time.

"Well, wait a second!" I called, starting after him again, he wasn't walking very fast today. I took it as a good sign. I caught up to him in seconds. "Where are you going?"

He glanced over at me before facing forward again. "Why are you following me?" I opened my mouth to respond but I didn't know why myself. I was just... drawn to him.

"My name is Cora. I never got to really thank you for saving me. I-"

"No need." He interrupted. I chewed on my bottom lip for a moment, unsure of how to proceed. He solved the problem for me by jumping onto a nearby dumpster and using that momentum to carry him to the ladder of a fire escape. "Don't follow me." His deep voice echoed against the walls of the alley.

I watched him climb as nimbly as a gymnast. He turned to look back down at me. "Be seein' ya." I said softly and turned to walk away from him for once. I made it to the end of the alley before I looked back but he was gone.

A week later I was evicted from my apartment. I had no where to go. No money for a motel and I refused to sell my body for something to eat or a place to stay. The only things I had left were a few belongings wrapped in the heavy quilt my mother knitted herself before she died. I was right about winter sinking in it's icy claws. It was 50 degrees outside when I stared at what was once my sanctuary, the only home that was mine.

By nightfall it was at least 40 degrees. It was dark before I made it to my destination. Which was an empty alley. Most of the homeless didn't sleep in this one because the rats bit them as they slept. But they hadn't bothered me yet and I'd already dozed twice. I was started awake by a small noise and was confused to see the dark figure looming over me. His head cocked to one side, his ever shifting mask hiding whatever expression he might've had.

I just stared at him and he stared back. "What are you doing?" He demanded. I began to see a trend with him. He was never merely curious. If he expended the energy to ask a question he expected an answer.

"What's it look like." I replied coldly, huddling deeper into my blanket, trying to forget about how frozen my face felt, annoyed that he seemed so unbothered by the frosty air. I began to feel uneasy when he continued to stare at me. "I'm trying to sleep so..."

He took a step back and turned away. I thought he would leave and I had shut my eyes for just a second before he came back, walking past my resting place. He paced that way for several minutes, seeming to have some sort of internal argument. I watched him nervously, I had no idea what sort of decision he was about to make, the last decision I had seen him make didn't turn out so well for the other guy. "You know my face." He said simply, stopping the pacing now to face me once more.

My blood ran cold. "I haven't told anyone. I wouldn't do that. You saved me." He grunted but said nothing at first. I couldn't hold his gaze. I was too nervous. Was he going to end me right here to stop me from spilling his secret? What did he think of me? Did he think I was just another homeless whore? I didn't know and I was afraid to ask.

"Follow me." Was all he said before turning and walking away. He didn't have to tell me twice. I gathered my stuff into a quick bundle and hurried after him. The warm air that had surrounded me completely evaporated and I began to shiver. He glanced over at me in what I would assume to be disapproval. "Need thicker coat."

I tightened the loose strap around my waist and tried to hide most of my neck in the thin collar. "I'm fine like this." I mumbled and he looked sharply at me but said nothing. We walked in silence for about fifteen minutes before reaching a building that looked worse off than my old place.

"Wait." He ordered before running in the opposite direction. He turned a corner and was gone. I stood on the stoop of the building, shuffling from one foot to the other, unsure if he would come back or if this was his idea of a joke. "This way."

I just barely heard his quiet voice and followed it around the side of the building but it was different somehow. When I saw him, I knew why. He was maskless. He wore nothing but an old coat over his clothes and of course, his sign. I was stunned when I saw him. I never expected him to show himself to me this way. He tilted his head toward the back entrance and I followed him through it.

His apartment was nothing more than a room with a mattress in it. I looked around in the dim light and was able to see the whole place with one sweeping glance. "I don't understand." I spoke quietly. He didn't answer. He took my bundle from me and I watched as he placed each item delicately in his dresser, as if he were afraid to break anything. Then he spread the quilt on the slim mattress and pointed at it with a grunt. "But-"

"Sleep." Was all he said before leaving the room for the night.

My stay was supposed to be short. Just one night. But that night extended into days. By the end of the first week we had grown exceptionally close. I needed a job but was too afraid to be out alone in the city at night. That put me at a great disadvantage in the job hunting world. Especially with my lack of job skills. Eventually, I asked him to teach me self defense so I wouldn't be so afraid at night. I was in good shape, I only needed the right training, I argued with him. He adamantly refused me.

I searched fruitlessly for a job during that first month. He said nothing about it, never ridiculing me, never hanging it over my head. He came home every night with food or a new coat or something I needed. Sometimes, when he came home from a nights work he would let me clean his wounds, they were rarely bad. I took care of him the only way I knew how. And he did the same for me.

By the end of the first month I had found another waitressing job. But they were nights only. I didn't have a choice. I had to take it. I knew Rorschach didn't like it. But he said nothing on the subject.

"Look. Why can't you just help me learn a few basic moves so I co-"

"No." He growled, warning me to back off.

"Why not? I need to know how to defend myself and you could te-"

"No. I know you. Teach you basic trick, you walk around in night thinking you're unstoppable. No. I can look after you."

"Not all the time, you can't. Plus you have more important things to do."

He turned away from me, looking down at his journal, writing quickly.

"Well, I guess I should leave then."

He paused in his writing for a moment and turned to look at me, cocking his head to the side. Even without his face, Rorschach's mannerisms seemed to seep through into Walter. "What?"

"I said I'm leaving. I have a job. So there's nothing more you can do for me. You've helped me enough, I don't want to burden you any more. So I'm leaving." He studied me for a long moment with those piercing green eyes but didn't make a move. So I did. I began collecting my few belongings which didn't take long. "Thank you for everything." With that I walked to the door and grabbed for the handle but he grabbed my wrist before I could turn the knob.

"Cora, I-" I watched his face for a moment. His mouth and eyebrows working as he tried to battle some foreign emotion. I felt like a monster. He was so alone and I was threatening abandonment. I hated myself for it. Without thinking, I tossed my things down and wrapped my arms around his neck.

He didn't hug me back but he didn't push me away either. "I'm sorry." I whispered, fighting a losing battle against the tears that had welled in my eyes. He hugged me then. Wrapping his arms around me gently, as if afraid I might break. He had used his hands to cause so much damage, I think he was afraid to use them for anything else.

"I'll do it." He said softly. I buried my face into his shoulder. He didn't really stink at all. It was his costume. He kept it in a dumpster.

I shook my head quickly, regretting my threat wholeheartedly. "No, you don't have to."

He pushed me away gently so that he could look into my eyes. "Yes, I do."

And boy was he a tough trainer. He pushed me harder and farther than I thought I would ever be able to go without killing myself in the process.

The first thing he taught me was balance. He often poked fun at me saying that the smallest of breeze's could knock me over. Eventually, I learned how to remain upright, to use my small stature to my advantage.

I remember how terrified and excited I was when I landed my very first hit on him. We were inside. The mattress was flipped up against the wall and the dresser was pressed against it to give us more space. There was a small dent in the wall where I had punched it the week before, almost breaking my hand.

We were facing each other, about five feet apart. I was crouched low and he was standing casually, waiting for my attack. When I did he blocked every one of my strikes. He never hit me during these sparring sessions, just blocked. I remember that I began to get frustrated, when I did that he felt it and normally ended the session with some painful submission hold followed by a lecture on keeping my cool.

My hand flew past his face and he grabbed my wrist, using it to spin me around. He was going to lock my arm behind my back but I bent at the waist, bringing him closer to me and kicked back hard. My foot landed square in his chest, forcing him to release my arm and fall back a step or two. I, of course, apologized profusly but through my horror I was pleased with myself and I think he was too.

Ten years later we were still inseperable. He even let me don a costume of my very own when I was trained well enough. It was a simple outfit, not as elaborate as local heroines'. I wore a black half mask, I had no idea how Rorschach tolerated something over his nose and mouth while fighting. Loose fitting, dark pants to move easier and a simple black shirt. In the winter I wore a mini version of Rorschach's rain coat. My alias became Breeze, I wondered often if he knew that he was my inspiration for that name.

I wasn't allowed to do any crime fighting when he wasn't around. Rorschach. He was everything to me. My savior, guardian, partner, father, brother, and best friend. It's odd how we came to be so close. We are completely different in every way you could imagine. But that's the beauty of it. Because we're so opposite we fit together perfectly, like two pieces fitted together to form into a bigger puzzle.

We rubbed off on each other a little bit. Though he was an incredibly right wing conservative, I took on his greatest strength and weakness. Never compromising my integrity when I believed something was right. In turn he allowed me to see into both Rorschach and Walter, whatever remained of the latter.

I can remember when I first decided that I no longer wanted to just defend myself. When I wanted to protect those who couldn't protect themselves. That was the fundemental difference between Rorschach and I. He fought to punish the criminals and I fought to protect the innocent. But that didn't happen until four years after we met.

In 1979, the government banned masked heroes and Watchmen was disassembled. Most of them retired, some were murdered, Mothman was dragged to an asylum in Maine, Ozymandais came out of the closet, so to speak, and publicized his Watchmen status, becoming very successful, and two were recruited by the same government that banned them. Rorschach was the only one who was brave enough to stay the course. Even his partner, Night Owl II, abandoned him to live a life of normalcy.

That was my breaking point. I felt that Rorschach needed a partner, no matter how much he denied it. Over the course of the few months after Night Owl II became only Daniel Drieberg, I worked to convince him that I would be an asset to his cause.

One night I was coming home from work, walking with my normal confidence that I aquired some weeks after beginning my training, I heard a woman screaming. 'This is it.' I thought to myself. 'Now I'll show him that having me tag along would be good for him.'

I followed the sounds of the struggle and came upon a mugging. Four men on one woman. It didn't look like mugging was all they had on their minds either. "Hey!" I shouted at them, trying to get their attention off the woman. When that happened, she ran but the men didn't go after her. They had a much more interesting target now.

They approached slowly, as I knew they would and I waited patiently, bidding my time. They easily surrounded me but I was unafraid. "Whatchu want?" The man in front of me grabbed his crotch, his implication was obvious. "You jealous of dat bitch?" He said, jerking his head in the direction the woman had run. Surprisingly, I was more annoyed by his terrible grammar than his lewd comments. We had all grown up here in New York. Why did some of us choose to not be imbeciles?

He lazily thrust out his hand, attempting to smack me, thinking I would be too afraid to react. Misreading my defensive posture as fear. I jerked my head out of the way while simultaneously grabbing his wrist. Before he had time to react and use his superior strength to pull away, I jerked and twisted, breaking his wrist and rendering him disabled. The sound of bone cracking echoed against the brick walls. It was my first time ever needing to use my skills in the real world, let alone breaking someone's bones. I didn't even flinch. I knew then that I was born to do this.

"Ohhhh, shit!" His friends yelled simultaneously while their friend writhed in pain on the ground. I used their surprise against them, moving quickly, stricking out at any body part I could find. I felt the crack of a nose breaking under the force of my upward thrusted palm, I felt the tenderness of a groin under my shoe. It was exhilerating. I'd never felt more alive.

A sudden pain in my mid section stopped my moving fist. I looked down to see a hand holding the handle of the knife that was sticking out of my side. I followed the hand up the arm and into the broken face of one of the men. When he pulled it out I gasped at the feeling of skin slicing open easily against the serated blade. It all happened in slow motion then. He aimed his arm for another strike with the knife but I blocked it, gripping his arm and using his momentum to fling his body against a nearby dumpster.

I tried to get away then, I had obviously bitten off more than I could chew, but the two that remained bloody but standing came after me and it wasn't long before the had me pinned against a wall, not wanting to rape me or mug me. Simply to hurt me. One of them dug their thumb into my new wound and I screamed. The pain was incredible. I aimed a hit at my attackers' jaw but my arm felt so heavy that I barely grazed him.

I tried again, the hit was just as soft but the attacker went flying. When I was released I collapsed to my knees, watching as Rorschach easily dispatched of the remaining attackers. None of them walked away after that, or ever would again. He killed them and behind the pain, somewhere in the back of my mind, I was glad.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid! What were you thinking?" He yelled, gloved hands fluttering over my body; trying to find the source of all the blood. I gasped, biting my lip to keep from crying out as his strong hand pressed down on my wound to stop the blood.

"Rorschach-" I began.

"Shut up." He retorted angrily, his breathing was heavy, panicked. I wondered if that meant I was probably going to die. "Hospital." He murmured and lifted me off the ground as if I weighed nothing.

"No, you can't bring me." I said weakly. I couldn't allow him to get caught by the police because of my stupidity. He said nothing, his masked face staring straight ahead as he moved down the street at a run. I was too weak to physically protest but I tried. Still he ignored me.

At some point during that journey I must've blacked out because the next thing I knew my head was resting against the softest pillow I had ever felt. My first thought was of heaven but that annoying beeping sound couldn't have been sent from God. I opened my eyes slowly, aware that I was about to call out for Rorschach. "R-Walter." I whispered weakly.

"Hey honey, you're awake!" Said a nurse that sounded too happy for the situation. "Sure honey, we have water right here."

I got out of the hospital a few days later. Rorschach didn't visit me for the time I was there. I couldn't blame him. We couldn't be seen together. He didn't want anyone to connect me to him in case something happened.

Like I said, that fight convinced him that I needed to be by his side. Not because I could be an asset, though eventually I became one, but so he could watch over me on a more personal basis. Thus, Breeze was born. He liked my new name. Sometimes he called me by that name when we were home, out of uniform. I didn't mind.

"Man fell out of window last night. Investigating scene tonight." He spoke softly, his voice as scratchy as ever. I wondered what caused him to have such a harsh voice. He wasn't a smoker. He pushed his journal toward me so I could read it. That was our normal routine, something that just started.

Rorschach's Journal: October 12th, 1985

Dog carcass in alley this morning. Tire tread on burst stomach. This city's afraid of me. I've seen it's true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood. When the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up around their waists. And all the whores and politicians will look up and shout "Save us!" And I'll whisper "No".

Now the whole world stands on the brink. Staring down into bloody hell. All those liberals, intellectuals, smooth talkers. And all of a sudden, nobody can think of anything to say. Beneath me, this awful city, it screams like an abbetoire full of retarded children. And the night reeks of fornication and bad consciences.

"I'm in." I said quickly, the hairs on the back of my neck standing on end as I finished reading the entry. He spoke the way he wrote in his journal. Only saying what was necessary, cutting out any words that weren't needed to get his point across. If you looked passed the fragemented sentances though his entries were like poetry.

This one inparticular addressed the problem that was coming to a head. The Russians had, in their possession, 51,000 nuclear warheads which were rumored to be pointed towards the United States. The promise of nuclear war seemed imminent and scientists have created a symbological Doomsday clock. It was now set at five minutes to midnight. Midnight being total destruction of Earth by way of nuclear holocaust.

The sidewalk was still dark with blood when we made it to the building that night. Rorschach spotted something in the gutter and picked it up without a word. I saw what it was before he put it in his pocket and my breath caught in my throat. The yellow smiley face badge was used by the Watchmen when they were still active. This one had a spot of blood on it. We stood outside for a moment, looking up at the broken window a few stories up. Was this just a coincedence?

Without speaking or direction I wrapped an arm over his right shoulder, the other arm was wrapped underneath his left and my hands linked tightly together across his chest. When I was secure he pointed his grappling gun - a gift given to him by his former partner- upward and fired. I felt the rush of cold wind as we were swept up toward the shattered window. I used the momentum to propel myself over his shoulders, landing in the lavish apartment in a crouch. He landed nimbly above me on the edge of the large window.

I stared into the darkness for a moment before he clicked his flashlight on and hopped down to the floor. I immediately noticed a picture of the first and much younger Silk Spectre with a knife stuck in the frame. My eyes narrowed on it. We separated, looking for clues. Rorschach was a brilliant detective and found something in the bedroom near the closet before I could really even look around properly. Whatever he saw caused him to thrust aside the clothes in the large closet.

I walked in after him, curious about the noise he was making. My eyes widened slightly when I saw the closet wall seperate and a luminescent light flicker on. My back straightened when I saw the costume, the guns and the picture of his former group. The Comedian. I had no love for that monster who called himself a hero, but the fact that someone killed a former Watchmen was frightening, almost ridiculous.

The Comedian was one of the first Watchmen, most well known for his sick sense of humor. He was the only one of the group who could accept the fact that human-kind was nothing more than a cruel joke. He believed that humans were savage by nature. He chose to let that part of him shine through. He killed women, children and often hurt people unnecessarily.

Rorschach whispered something to himself as he stared at a picture of all of his former colleges. I opened my mouth to ask him to repeat what he said but before I could the elevator dinged to let the passengers off. I guessed it was the cops, no one was allowed on this floor. I glanced at Rorschach and he jerked his head toward the broken window. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should object but then I remembered the promise I made to him when I first started tagging along. I had to obey him, no matter what he asked of me. Even if it meant leaving him behind. It was a promise I intended to keep because it was the only thing he ever truly asked of me and I demanded so much from him.

The initial hesitation didn't hurt me. Using the line from the grappling gun, I scaled back down the building, moving into the shadows as soon as my feet touched the unforgiving pavement. A moment later I heard gunshots and my heart skipped a beat. But no more than ten seconds later, he was by my side. "Did you kill them?" I asked softly, trying my best to be nonjudgmental. I didn't have the stomach to kill people, no matter the crime. But Rorschach didn't share the same compunctions as I did.

He shook his head ever so slightly. "Minor injury. Won't need hospitalization."

I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding. "Need to visit Daniel. Someone might be gunning for masks." He said quietly. I nodded, knowing it would be no use arguing against him. He had the experience and the tenacity to follow this lead, where ever it took him.

Daniel wasn't home when we arrived. Rorschach broke the lock on the front door. I shook my head, feeling sympathy for the former hero. He could've easily used his lockpick. "Force isn't the only answer." I said to him, watching him open his second can of cold beans. He said nothing.

The former Night Owl II came home shortly after that.

"Rorschach." He stated, his voice a mixture of surprise, relief and apprehension. I despised him at times. He quit Watchmen, leaving Rorschach alone. Daniel was Rorschach's only friend for so long he must feel betrayed, though he never said anything on the subject.

"Hello, Daniel. Helped myself to some beans. Hope you don't mind." He said, taking another spoonful of the cold mush. I tried to hide my grimace.

"No, of course not. Do you want me to heat those up for you?" He stepped further into the kitchen, noticing me for the first time. We exchanged nods.

"Fine like this." He said between chews. I began to get antsy, I always did when these two got together. There was always so much tension in the air. They exchanged more small talk before Rorschach rose from the kitchen chair, readjusting his mask. He tossed the blood stained badge on the kitchen table.

"Badge belonged to The Comedian, blood too. He's dead."

"Someone threw him through his apartment window." I chimed in for the first time since Daniel's arrival.

The former Night Owl II looked up from the button, a new seriousness coming over his face. 'There it is.' I thought to myself. 'No matter how we fight it, we'll always be this way.' "Let's talk downstairs."

I had always been curious about the numerous gadets Daniel had in his possession. While the men talked, I explored, always listening carefully, always on edge. I was mostly interested in Archemedes. The flying vessel Night Owl II used when he worked. 'Or used to work.' I thought bitterly. He named the ship after Merlin's owl. Daniel had always been into mythology. His father was a banking investor and when he died he left all of his money to his son. Daniel used the money to help make his contraptions.

"An attack on one is an attack on all of us." I heard Rorschach say, clear annoyance in his voice. I walked from around the machine to watch them, listening as these former partners spoke.

"What do you suggest we do about it?" Daniel asked dumbly, as if he didn't already know.

"Retribution." Rorschach said as if the answer was obvious. It was to me.

"The Watchmen are... over. No one knows who you are. You can give it up. Try and have a normal life." I rolled my eyes and shook my head. There was no such thing as normal once you've seen what we've seen.

"Is that what you have, Daniel? A normal life. When you walk down the street in a city dyin' of rabies, past the human cochroaches talkin' about their heroin and child pornography, do you really feel normal?" Rorschach tossed down the piece of metal he was toying with and turned to his former friend.

"At least I'm not the one hiding behind a mask." Anger bubbled up inside of me and I had to resist the urge to fling something at him. To scream at him. To try and make him realize that this city needs people to stand up for what they believe in, people to exact justice when no one else would.

"No, you're hiding in plain sight." Rorschach said with disdain. I was at his side and we started down the subway tunnel Daniel used to use to get Archie out of the basement. Daniel called out directions and said something that suggested he missed the old days.

"What happened to those days?"

"You quit." Rorschach called behind him, obviously the visit bothered him. I wanted to reach out to him but touch only comforted me. So I kept my distance and kept silent as we walked the tunnel to the escape hatch that led to the street. I knew somewhere deep down that Daniel missed the Watchmen.

It was raining hard when we got to the street but I didn't mind. The copy cat raincoat I wore protected me from the worst of it. He changed in the rain while I went on home. We didn't like being seen together by civilians, in or out of costume. He was soaked when he finally got in, dripping rain water everywhere.

I opened my mouth to protest but he spoke over me. "First visit fruitless. Feel slightly depressed." He said quietly, leaning against the wall by the door. I got up from the bed we shared -we didn't have enough room to put seperate beds in the studio apartment- and walked over to him.

I grabbed the towel I used to dry my hair and handed it to him. While he toweled off I went to the stove and spooned out the beans I heated up for him. He rarely shared his feelings aloud and I didn't know how to respond to it. "Daniel will come around. You heard him tonight. He misses this."

"Hrm." Rorschach grunted, sitting down to his meal. He had gotten me on beans when he first started training me. They're easy and quick to make and packed full of vitamins, protein, and energy. Perfect when you lived on a tight budget. Still, I had them as few times as possible. That night, I fell asleep while he was still writing in his journal.

Rorschach's Journal: October 13th, 1985, 8:30pm

Meeting with Drieberg left bad taste in mouth. A flabby failure who sits whimpering in his basement. Why are so few of us left active, healthy, and without personality disorders? The first Night Owl runs an auto repair shop. The first Silk Spectre is a bloated, aging whore, dying in a California rest resort. Dollar bill got cape stuck in revolving door where he got gunned down. Silouette, murdered, a victim of her own indecent lifestyle. Mothman's in an asylum in Maine. Only two names remain on my list. Both share private quarters at Rockefeller Military Research Center. I shall go to them. I shall go tell the Indestructable Man that someone plans to murder him.

"Jon?" I asked when he mentioned our destination the next night. He turned to me, waiting. "Why? He probably already knows The Comedian is dead and that you'll be visiting him." It wasn't the waste of time I was worried about. Jon and Laurie lived on a military base. It would be risky getting in and out of the facility unseen.

Jon was a reknown nuclear physisist who, through a terrible accident, was gifted with extraordinary powers. Capable of bending matter to his will. During Vietnam, Nixon requested that Jon step in to help. The war was ended in a week, United States victorious. His girlfriend is Laurie, the daughter of the first Silk Spectre and the retired second. She is Jon's only remaining tie to Earth.

"Still. I must go to them." He turned then and began walking. Reluctantly, I followed.

When we got to the base I was told to wait for Rorschach until he got back. It made sense. One person would be easier to hide than two. Still, I didn't like it. Just as he was physically protective of me, I was emotionally protective of him. Laurie/Miss jupiter was a bitch to him at every turn. Because of that we butted heads a lot whenever we were around each other. It turned physical a few times but Rorschach was always there to keep the cattiness from escalating too high. We were on the same team, after all.

About fifteen minutes passed before a flash of blue light startled me out of my revery. I shielded my eyes from the bright light. When it cleared Rorschach was standing in front of me with his finger pointed ahead of him. "-til I've had my say."

I pressed my lips together tightly to stifle the laugh that was threatening to bubble out. He glanced at me for a moment and then grunted, stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned to walk away from the base. He looked so pitiful that the laugh died in my throat and I couldn't help but link my arm in his.

"They didn't listen, I'm assuming." I spoke quietly, trying to sound sympathetic. It must be so hard for Rorschach to have to accept the fact that no one takes him seriously anymore. He was the only one doing what he was meant to do out of the bunch of them and he had to carry the weight of it on his shoulders. I tried my best to help him carry it, as much as he let me anyway.

A few days later was Edward Blake A.K.A The Comedian's funeral. It was raining hard again that day but it didn't matter. I was indoors, working. I quit watressing a few years back and landed a job at Adrian Veidt's company, Veidt International, as a receptionist. The work was easy and the pay was better, plus I worked days, leaving my nights free.

Adrian Veidt also happened to be a retired Watchmen, Ozymandias was his alias. He was a genious, free thinker, liberal. His company was geared toward working with Jon, A.K.A Dr. Manhattan, to try and create a natural, renewable resource. He felt the cause of so much death and war is based out of fear. Fear of not having enough. If he were to create an infinite resource it would make war obsolete, his ultimite goal being world peace.

Rorschach went to the cemetary as Walter Kovacs that day to see if anyone suspicious showed up. His disguise was beautiful, really. No one noticed the homeless in New York. So he was free to walk around unseen, gathering intel. It was amazing what you could overhear if someone thought no one was listening.

Rorschach came back that evening a little amped up. I knew he found something but he needed time to think. I remained silent as I dressed for the night. Unlike Rorschach, I refused to hide my clothes in a dumpster. When he finally dressed he seemed to calm down a little bit.

"Moloch attended Edward Blake's funeral."

That caught me by surprise. "Moloch? How could he know Blake?"

Rorschach sat on a stoop, leaning his head down and taking off his hat to scratch his head. This was his normal thinking stance. "Must've known Blake was The Comedian. Why attend? Enemies for decades." He grunted in frustration, replacing his fedora and getting to his feet. "One way to find out."

I didn't participate in the interrogation but I went anyway. He had been trying to teach me the proper way to get the perp to do exactly what you wanted them to do, so I went to watch. Watching Rorschach work was like art in motion. He knew how and where to deliver just enough pain to get the criminal to talk. And they always did. I think it's the dark humor he always employs during each interrogation. When you looked at him you wouldn't think he would be as witty as he is. Most people don't get his jokes though. Delivery wasn't his strong suit.

In the end all it took was one broken finger for Moloch to cave.

"He broke in here!" He cried finally. "He was drunk, crying."

"The Comedian? Crying?" Rorschach spat unbelievingly.

"He was babbiling, not making any sense. I thought he came here to kill me. He said that everything was a joke. He said he thought he knew how the world worked. 'I done bad things in 'Nam. But that was fucking war. I ain't never done anything like this.' He said something about a list. He said my name was on it and Janey Slater too. That's all I know. I swear!" Janey Slater was Manhattan's old girlfriend.

He told an outrageous story. "Hrm." Rorschach grunted quietly, releasing Moloch. "Funny story. Sounds unbelieveable... probably true." I agreed that it was probably true. There would be no reason for Moloch to lie so elaborately, especially about this. The information seemed so trivial. Apparently, The Comedian was keeping some sort of secret. Moloch wasn't very specific. Another thing about Moloch that we found out that night. He was dying. Cancer. Rorschach showed a kindness by letting Moloch keep his illegal but useless medicine. You could see that the cancer had already eaten him up. I almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

Rorschach's Journal: October 16th, 1985

Thought about Moloch's story. Could all be lies. A revenge scheme planned during his years behind bars. But if it's true. What could've scared The Comedian enough to cry in front of Moloch? What was it he saw? And that list he mentioned. So many questions. Answers soon. Nothing is insoluble. Nothing is hopeless. Not while there's life.

Edward Blake, The Comedian. Born 1918, buried in the rain. Murdered. Is that what happens to us? No time for friends. Only our enemies leave roses. Violent lives ending violently. Blake understood, humans are savage in nature. No matter how much you try to dress it up. To disguise it. Blake saw society's true face. Chose to be a parody of it. A joke.

That night we went to the cemetary. The rusted lock was easily picked by Rorschach. It was still raining but that was alright. It fit the mood. I stood a few feet behind Rorschach, watching him closely. I wondered if he cared more about this viscious man than he cared to admit. He felt The Comedian and him were similar. Cruel, uncaring, unstable. That was true of Edward Blake, The Comedian, but it wasn't true of Rorschach. I couldn't believe it was anyway.

The small man crouched low in front the grave stone. He touched the roses so gently it was almost heartbreaking. "Is this what happens to us?" He said softly, picking a rose out of the bouquet and tucking it into his trenchcoat collar. The affect was disturbing. The rose was a beautiful dark red. But set against his coat it looked like a patch of blood. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself before following Rorschach into the night.

He glanced in my direction for a moment and I took the opportunity to take the rose from his coat. I looked down at it, massaging its water splashed petals. "It doesn't have to end like this." I said softly.

He took the rose from my hand and dropped it onto the grass, as if reading my mind about the message it sent. Then he took my hand gently. He always touched me as if I might break at any moment. "Not for you." He said and those words scared me more than anything ever could. Did he think this investigation was going to be his last? Or was he suggesting I leave this life and start a new one. Either option was unacceptable. We were in this together, right to the very end.

Dr. Manhattan was on the news that night. Having been accused of giving the people that he was closest to cancer. For the first time since I've known him, he showed emotion. There was a snapshot of him screaming into a camera. He reportedly left Earth.

A few days after the funeral an assassination attempt was made on Adrian Veidt's life. Although I worked in the building, I didn't hear about it until an ambulance arrived to pick up the bodies. Apparently a few business men that were with him got shot in the process. Veidt was unharmed but his would be shooter took a cyanide pill before he could be questioned.

The people closest to the crime were given the rest of the day off. Unfortunately for me, I was no where near it and was expected to finish out my shift. The minutes ticked by like hours. When everything was finished, I left the building as calmly as I could. The press were everywhere so it was easy to guess that Rorschach had already heard what happened but that didn't help my anxiousness about talking to him.

He caught me entirely by surprise when he walked directly up to me, outside my work, and gripped my upper arms with both hands. He stared at me intensely with his peircing green eyes, trying to see right through me. "I'm fine." I whispered softly, knowing what he wanted to ask but couldn't. He didn't like to speak out of costume because his voice was so distinctive.

"Get your hands off her!" A tall man came up to us, mistaking our intense exchange. The stranger pushed Rorschach away from me and he allowed it, his stumble a little exaggerated. "Stinkin' bum!" The man shouted at him and I looked away from the small, red headed man to the larger, darker haired one. "Are you alright miss?" He asked, turning his attention to me in a completely different tone.

"I'm fine." I said, smiling up at my would be savior. "Thanks for your help." I glanced over to look at Rorschach but he was gone. I knew where he went and I rushed to meet him, brushing past the man as politely as I could.

My arms were throbbing from where Rorschach had held me so tightly, but I didn't mind. I circled the next corner and found him tightening his gloves around his knuckles. He barely glanced my way as I approached. "Have to search apartment."

I nodded, already having collected the information at work. Rorschach took the paper and glanced at it once, then shred it and let the wind carry it away. "Dinner first." I said, we needed energy for tonight. He nodded reluctantly.

"Drieberg and Jupiter are having an affair." Rorschach said simply, as if nothing was amiss with that statement. We were in our tiny apartment. I was cooking and he was writing in his journal. I don't know how he didn't get tired of writing in that thing all the time. I stopped in the middle of stirring the mashed potatoes and turned to stare at him.

"How do you know that?" I asked him, already disbelieving. He was always assuming the worst about his fellow man. But of course, I was always willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

"Saw them walking out of diner together." He looked up from his writing for moment and I stared at him, waiting for the rest of the story to come out. I gestured for him to continue but he didn't. That was all. He shoved his journal across the table for me to read. He always did this. As if talking would hurt him.

Rorschach's Journal: October 21st, 1985

On 43rd and 7th, saw Dreiberg and Jupiter leaving diner. They didn't know me without my mask. An affair. Did she break Manhattan's heart to engineer his exile? Make room for Dreiberg. Does Manhattan even have a heart to break?

"So two old friends aren't allowed to share a meal together?" I asked, punctuating the question by putting a plate of food in front of him. I sat across from him with my own and began to eat. Out of habit we both ate our food quickly but neatly.

"You didn't see them." He said simply, as if that explained his whole reasoning. I rolled my eyes but said nothing. His conservative attitude sometimes tended to block his vision of what was actually going on.

When we got to the assassins apartment we started looking for clues. Searching through his desk I found a name badge to Pyramid Transnational, Roy Chess. I knew that name from somewhere, I just couldn't place it. "Why does this sound so familiar?" I asked Rorschach, trading him the badge for a matchbook to Happy Harry's bar. We could go their and 'ask around'.

"I've seen this logo before."

"I know, I just can't place where."

He growled then, stuffing the badge into his pocket. "At Moloch's." Then it hit me. He had just recieved a pension check from Pyramid Transnational when we interrogated him the other night. Rorschach headed for the door and I followed.

The house was dark when we got there. We didn't want to be too obvious so we climbed into an open window via fire escape. We walked silently into the dark kitchen where Moloch was smoking. Something didn't feel right. I didn't know if Rorschach felt it too, I doubt it because he already started questioning him. Then I saw it, the cigarette was nothing but ash, having burned down to it's filter. I gasped aloud but my partner didn't hear me.

"No more lies Moloch. Who runs Pyramid?" At the moment Rorschach grabbed his shoulder, Molochs head fell backward lifelessly, revealing the small bullet wound that was so easily hidden in the darkness. My breathing quickened when Rorschach found the gun. Moloch obviously didn't do this to himself but we didn't have any time to discuss it.

The screech of a megaphone interrupted the deep silence and an official sounding voice screamed into the small kitchen. "Rorschach, this is the police. We know you're in there!"

"No." Our voices mixed together with the same word. Only he repeated it multiple times, berrating himself for walking into a trap, we'd been set up. We both began darting around the kitchen looking for weapons to fight off the police with.

"If there's anyone in their with you, send them out unharmed!" I found the matches in my pocket and began searching under the sink for something to use them with when he snatched them out of my hand.

"No." He said, turning away from me and shaking up an aeresol can. "You're my hostage. Now go."

I shook my head. "No."

"Now." He growled, not turning to look at me. I pressed my lips tightly together, not wanting to leave him.

I growled in frustration, pulling the mask off my face and putting it in my coat pocket, then tearing the coat off to stuff under the sink. I glanced at him once before running out of the apartment with my hands in the air. "Don't shoot, don't shoot!" I yelled at the officers who grabbed me and passed me down the stairs until I was outside. Then a couple other officers pulled me away from the house and out of harms way. But I could still see and hear. It wasn't a stretch to look fearful. Though the reasons were different than the cops were thinking.

The screams came first and I knew immediately that they belonged to the SWAT officers. I hoped silently that he spared their lives, they were just doing their jobs. Next were the gunshots. I had to consciously force myself to not push against the officer holding me. I had to pretend that I didn't care about this person.

The glass shattered outward and the figure of a masked man fell from it but he was on his feet in a flash, fighting off the officers for all he was worth. He took down the first two with ease but the third hit him in the back, distracting him. 'No, no. Come on Rorschach.' I coaxed him in my mind. He had to get through this. He had to get away. He was knocked to the ground but he managed to get ahold of one of the nightsticks and was fighting them from the ground. I began wringing my hands, itching to help him but knowing I couldn't, it was too late.

By my count he took down eight officers before they finally out numbered him. I couldn't help the tears that were streaming down my face when he screamed as they demasked him. "No, NOOOO! My face! Give me back my FACE!" How could they be so cruel. He was a hero for Christ's sake. He spent his life protecting those that couldn't protect themselves. How could they treat him this way?

Even if I had fought beside him we both probably would've been caught. But now that one of us were out, maybe I would be able to break him out before they tore him apart. No, not maybe. I would break him out. I would.

The police questioned me very little and most of the questions were about how I was treated by Rorschach. Did he rape me? Kidnap me? Torture me? No, No, No. To all the questions. I gave them nothing that would help them distort the image of my most beloved and trusted friend. "Well, if it's at all any consolation to you, Ma'am. He probably won't make it to the end of the week. He put away over fifty men in that prison."

"It's not." I said with more malice than I'd intended. The officer looked at me suspiciously for a moment before letting me go. My first stop was back to Moloch's for my things. I needed to think this through. When I went home all I did was watch the news. Rorschach's face was plastered on every news channel.

Then it was quiet for a few days. They were the longest days of my entire life. I worked, came home, watched the news until I fell asleep and then did it all over again. I didn't want to imagine the kinds of horror he was enduring. A man like Rorschach being locked up at all was punishment enough. He was always moving, never still. How could he stay sane in a cage? As if that's not bad enough, you add on how famous he is, everyone is going to want a piece of him. It was impossible not to think about it. But I couldn't just break into a maximum security prison on my own and expect to get him out alive. I had to wait, be patient.

"...burned with hot cooking oil." I looked up from my lap and into the television, trying to focus on the news story. I couldn't help but smile as the news anchor told of the horrific scene unfolding in the prison cafeteria. Rorschach threw hot cooking oil into another prisoner's face. He was in critical condition and the outcome was uncertain.

Later that night, the man died. He must've been in incredible pain. Good.

Breaking news coverage announced that a riot was taking place in the prison, the death toll count was unknown as of late. 'Now's my chance.' I thought, dressing in a flash and hurrying to the prison. While everyone was distracted by the riot I would sneak into the building and fight my way to him.

It took me longer than I hoped it would to get to the prison. I stalked, unseen in the shadows, along the border of the prison, looking for the perfect place the enter. I tried to be patient but the riot wasn't going to last much longer. Finally, I found the spot I needed. A blind spot from the snipers towers. I scaled the fence with ease, avoiding the razor wire on the top before hopping down. I tucked and rolled, making it to my feet and behind the building before anyone would've thought to look my way. I looked up and saw that the best way to get inside would be to scale the building and sneak in through the roof entrance.

I found the ladder on the far corner of the building, probably visible to anyone who happened to look my way. I would have to risk it. I climbed fast, skipping up every couple of rungs before finally making it to the top and vaulting myself over the edge. I crouched low, my dark clothes allowed me to mix with the shadows easily.

I made it to the service entrance without a hitch and moved to open the door but it swung outward at me. The three people were as surprised to see me as I was to see them.

Silk Spectre reacted instantly, aiming a boot at my outter thigh. I blocked the hit by grabbing the leg and using it to swing her out to the roof. Her barely clothed body skidded along the gravelled rooftop before finally coming to a halt. She was on her feet and after me again.

"What the hell are you doing here?" She demanded, getting in my face. Rorschach stepped between the two of us and goaded her into turning her attention on him. "You don't know what the fuck you're talking about!" She yelled when he mentioned her affair with Daniel. 'I knew that wasn't true.' I thought to myself but remained silent.

"Hey, hey! Will you two stop? You can argue later. We're going to be drawing fire soon." Daniel yelled, already having summoned his aircraft. Just then the service entrance door burst open, armed guards ordering us to stop. We were all in Archie before bullets began raining down on us.

Jupiter and I glowered at each other for the entire ride back to Daniel's basement. Blue light shown through the crack of the vessel door as it opened to let us out. 'What's Jon doing here?' I thought to myself. He said he needed to talk to Laurie and before anyone could stop them, he teleported them to Mars. 'Good riddance' I thought sourly as the energy in the air began to dissapate.

Night Owl II and Rorschach argued in Archie for a while. Rorschach wanted to take action, Daniel wanted to play it safe, as always. I agreed with Rorschach. With the Doomsday clock ticking down to four minutes until midnight there was no waiting time. We had to act fast. I stood in the basement, arms crossed over my chest, lost in my own thoughts as the men exited the vessel. Rorschach sat on the stairs of Archemedis, taking off his hat to scratch his head as he always did when he needed to think.

I handed Rorschach the match book we confiscated from Roy Chess's apartment, sans matches of course. He had used those in combination with an aeresol spray during his battle with the police. He nodded. "Need to hit up underworld contacts. Squeeze people."

"Sure. Why don't we just pick names out of a phone book." Daniel said sarcastically, refueling the ship.

"You forgot how we do things, Daniel. You've gone too soft. Trusting. Especially with women." The disdain in his voice was clear.

Rorschach was abused as a child. His mother was a drug addicted whore. He watched men come and go in his own house. Often he thought the men were hurting her. When he tried to protect her she would beat him. He never talked about it much but I knew it contributed to his discomfort with anything related to women.

He was also the target of bullying which probably has a lot to do with how introverted and socially awkward he is. His severe hatred of anyone being victimized is what ultimately led him to becoming the hero he was. He began to lash out violently as he got older. Two older boys in particular targeted him because they found out about his mother. They cornered him in an alley one day, hitting him, making derogetory comments about his mother. He snapped then, hitting one boy in the groin with his fist and when the kid doubled over in pain he slammed his books across his face. He managed to tackle the second teenager into the snow, biting a chunk of flesh out of his cheek, the blood pouring down the child's chin and neck. Young Rorschach was sent to a school for problem children after that where he excelled in his studies and physical activities.

Daniel threw down the fueling hose after it was detached from the ship. "Now, that's enough." He said harshly, turning to face my partner. I don't think Rorschach ever expected it. "Who do you think you are, Rorschach? You live off people while insulting them and no one complains because they think you're a God damned lunatic!" Rorschach hung his head in what I assumed was hurt or shame or both. I slowly uncrossed my arms as Rorschach hopped down from the stairs and took a step toward Dan. I stood calmly, looking between the two men, not really expecting a fight but ready for one.

"I'm sorry, man." Daniel said as he turned to see his former partner standing behind him. He always was the kind of man to apologize first. Even if you really were the person in the wrong.

"Daniel, I-." He paused, not knowing how to continue. "You are a good friend." He raised his gloved hand in an unusual gesture of affection. Daniel took it, as I knew he would. "I know it... can be difficult with me sometimes."

Not only did these former partners rekindle their relationship but Rorschach also got his way. We hit up Happy Harry's Bar, looking for people who might know anything about Pyramid Transnational. Whatever was going on, whoever ran the company had to be behind it.

Happy Harry's was your typical low life hang out. It reeked of cigarettes, vomit and alcohol. When we walked through the door you could tell who the criminals were because they looked away or cringed. Almost all of the men in this bar did one or the other.

"Pyramid Transnational. Anyone heard of it?" We waited some seconds, scanning the room with our eyes. And then the crowd around the bar parted like the Red Sea, revealing a fat, bearded man still seated in a stool. He looked around him in disbelief.

"Oh, you bastards. I buy everyone a round and you sell me out like this." He stood from the stool, finished the last of his drink, then threatened Rorschach with the glass.

Glass shattered in the man's hand as Rorschach squeezed it shut, forcing the broken glass into his palm; the pain causing the man's knees to buckle. Blood poured freely from the wounds, Night Owl II tried to keep everyone calm, and Rorschach squeezed harder, staring down at the man kneeling before him without remorse. The sound of the man's scream was like nails on a chalkboard. "Roy Chess, on Pyramid payroll. Tried to kill Adrian Veidt. Dead now. Did you know him?"

The man denied it at first but Rorschach got him to talk with another squeeze. "Ahhh!" The man screamed in pain. He admitted to hiring the hitman through a company program that hired ex cons. Giving them another chance at making something of themselves. He didn't trust the guy but he was told to hire him by Janey Slater. Dr. Manhattan's former girlfriend. Who also has cancer. Apparently, everyone that Dr. Manhattan has gotten close to has died from cancer due to his radioactivity. But that didn't make any sense because Silk Spectre lived with him for a number of years and is still healthy. It didn't smell right to me.

Deciding it would be best to speak with Adrian directly, to see if he might be able to help us figure this out, we went to his penthouse. No one was there so we went to his office. He wasn't there either."What nocturnal proclivities would entice a man with everything out into the night at this hour?" Rorschach was starting to get suspicious. He wasn't the only one. With the recent news that Hollis Mason, the former Night Owl, was murdered in his home -further confirming Rorschach's mask killer theory- it was best to be suspicious of everyone. Daniel decided to hack into Veidt's computer to look for an itinerary.

"Moloch, Janey Slater, Roy Chess all worked for Pyramid. Whoever owns Pyramid could be giving these people cancer. Settin' Manhattan up." I looked at him sharply. His mind was brilliant and he put into words exactly what was nagging at the back of my mind.

Rorschach and I began looking through files. He found a psych profile on Dr. Manhattan and read it aloud. "Subject continues to retreat emotionally. If the last remaining ties were to be severed, we predict total detatchment from the human condition."

"Laurie." I whispered. Remembering their relationship. If Laurie was the only tie connecting him to Earth and she left him... why would Jon help us? Now that he's out of the way, whoever went through all that trouble could finish whatever they had in store. Rorschach looked at me but before I could explain aloud Daniel interrupted. "I'm in." We all huddled around the computer, reading what he found. My mouth fell open when I could comprehend what I was reading. Veidt International was funding Pyramid Transnational.

"No." Daniel whispered.

We had to go to Adrian. To stop him from doing whatever he had planned. Rorschach needed a moment to write in his journal before we left. I looked over his shoulder, he didn't seem to mind.

Rorschach's Journal: Final Entry

Veidt's behind everything. Why? What's his end game? I can not imagine a more dangerous opponent. Used to joke he was fast enough to catch a bullet. He could kill us all alone in the snow. That's where we're going now. Antartica. Whether I'm alive or dead upon this reading, I hope the world survives long enough for this journal to reach you. I live my life free of compromise. Step into the shadow without complaint or regret.

Rorschach

November, 1st

When he was done he closed it carefully and rose from his seat. He stood in front of me for a moment before holding the small book out to me. "Deliver to New Frontiersman." I furrowed my brows at him and shook my head. The New Frontiersman was the extreme right wing newspaper he read religiously.

"We can drop it off on our way."

He grunted jerking his arm forward, insisting I take the book. I shook my head, my jaw set in determination.

"You're not coming." He said, his voice deepening to a growl.

"Of course I am. What are you even talking about? You'll need me to help fight Veidt."

"No." He said, shoving the book into my chest so I'd be forced to catch it or drop it. I caught it. I couldn't let it fall to the ground. He carried his life in that journal.

"Yes, I am." I said, starting after him when he walked past me. He spun on me, gripping my shoulders none too gently.

"You'd get me killed. Would be no help." I knew he was only saying this now because he was desperate. He was trying to hurt me so I would turn away from him. But I couldn't. I had to break the only promise I ever made to him. If we were to die, so be it. I wouldn't let him face down an adversary like Adrian without me. Especially if he thought this might be our last battle.

"I'm sorry, Rorschach. But if this is our last case we're sticking it out together. Besides, the doomsday clock is almost up. If the world is going to explode I would rather be fighting at your side when it happens." My mind was made up. He knew arguing with me would serve no purpose but to kill time. Time we didn't have.

It didn't take us long to fly to Antartica in Archie. The speed at which that ship could travel was phenomonal. Rorschach didn't talk much during the trip and neither did I. We could talk through our differences at a later date. Finally, the thermal imaging picked up heat ratings from an artificial structure. It had to be Adrian's. "Uh oh." Daniel said quietly as the large vessel began to buck. My stomach sunk to my toes when I saw the Engine Failure signal. The freezing temperatures had frozen both engines and we were loosing steam fast with a giant glacier in front of us. "Hold on to something!" Daniel cried as he began tapping buttons.

Rorschach grabbed onto the passenger seat and I grabbed onto him, simply because there was nothing else to grab onto. He glanced my way, the familiar shape of surprise on his shifting mask. "Daniel. You're comin' in too low." I swallowed hard, looking over Rorschach's shoulder and into the blinding white wall ahead of us. "Don't wish to interfere with running of ship but perhaps should pull up sharply before-"

"I know! I'm trying damn it!" Daniel yelled, grunting with the effort to pull the big machine out of it's dive. With a final yell, the ship shot upward, smashing into the edge of the cliff and skidding along the icy surface before finally coming to a stop.

The cabin was silent save for the heavy breathing. "Breeze?" Rorschach said softly, looking down at the hand that was digging into his arm. I had to be hurting him but he didn't complain and his voice didn't give away any sense of discomfort. Slowly, I was able to release my grip, shaking out the stiff appendage.

Archie would have to be defrosted and we didn't have time for that. We would have to walk the short distance in the snow.

"You need something warmer." Daniel called down from the top of his ship, already dressed in winter clothing.

"Fine like this." Rorschach replied, tugging the old trenchcoat tighter around himself. He had gotten me a new coat some time back, he didn't say where he got it and I didn't ask, so I really was fine for the short walk.

We made it to the entrance of Veidt's hideout before freezing to death. Just barely. Daniel used his lazer tool to cut open the door so we could get into the building.

I was focused. My nerves were on pins and needles as showtime came closer and closer. The men seemed perfectly calm. As if flying all the way to Antartica to do battle with a long time friend would be a natural situation. The building looked old and new at the same time. Statues of Ancient Egyptians lined the walls. There was a statue of a pharoah on the top of a large staircase. "My Name is Ozymandias. King of Kings: Look on my Works, Ye Mighty and Despair!" It read. I shivered.

We spotted Veidt in front of a large wall of TV's each playing a different news channel. He seemed completely engrossed in them. Now was our chance. We split up, trying to surround him. Rorschach went after him first. He obviously knew we were there because at the last moment, Adrian jumped, causing Rorschach to miss entirely, crashing head first into the wall of televisions.

He then threw a large chair at Daniel, crashing it into his back. I attacked next, failing to land even a single hit. He threw me easily, my back cracking painfully as I landed hard on the staircase.

There, three people dispatched in less than a minute and he wasn't even short of breath.

"Adrian, we know everything." Daniel said from the ground.

"What's there to discuss then, Dan." Veidt replied, his voice perfectly calm.

"Plenty! You killed Comedian." Rorschach accused, replacing his fedora and getting to his feet. We all followed his example.

"May he rest in peace." Adrian said, turning toward Rorschach. Then, like a true villian he began rehashing his plan.

"Blake figured it out first. Nixon had him keeping tabs on us, making sure we didn't rock the boat. Blake found out what I was doing here in Antartica and by the time he visited poor Moloch he was cracking badly. Even I couldn't predict that he'd be the one to have a change of heart." Rorschach attacked again, but Adrian took him down easily, continuing his speech almost during the short skirmish.

"So, I had to kill him. Then, I neutralized Jon. No easy task. I put roughly two billion dollars into tacheyon research to block Jon's vision of the future."

"You used his psych profile to manipulate him. Got him to leave the planet." Rorschach cut in, trying to clarify everything. Roy Chess, the assassin was hired by Adrian himself to throw us off.

"I've known Jon long enough to know that he is not devoid of emotion. His subtle facial twitches wouldn't be noticed by the lamen but to me... he might as well have been sobbing. And you." He said with true malice, turning to Rorschach. My lips tightened and I took a step forward. "With your mask killer theory. One which you followed with the tenacity of a true sociopath. I tipped off the police and once you were in prison I was able to move forward."

"Sorry to disappoint you." Rorschach whispered maliciously. All of us attacked at once then, but he was able to fight us off. The world's smartest and fastest man indeed. Jon let Adrian duplicate his power with no knowledge of how he'd plan to use it, how he planned to frame him. He targeted major cities all over the world. Killing millions of people in an instant. "To save billions." was his logic.

"You see, The Comedian was right. Humanity's savage nature will inevitibly lead to global annhialation. So in order to save this planet. I had to trick it."

"You know we can't let you do that." Rorschach growled vehemently as he started up the stairs toward Veidt.

"Do that, Rorschach? You seriously think I would explain my master stroke to you if there were any possibility that you could effect the outcome?"

We all looked at each other then. We were too late to stop him, we couldn't beat him. What now?

A sudden flash of blue light lit up the large room. Manhattan walked toward us all with an air of unstoppable confidence. He was of course, the Indestructable Man.

"Must stop him. Killed Blake. Killed Millions." Rorschach said as Manhattan climbed the steps to follow Adrian, who had already fled.

We waited for Manhattan to return with Veidt's scrawny figure but he didn't. Adrian came back alone and confident. But it didn't last. Jon returned, smashing his now giant hand through the ceiling. Glass and debris fell everywhere. I covered my head to protect my face from the worst of it. Rorschach ducked as well, covering my body with his as best as he could. When I opened my eyes Jon's blue, normal sized, form was standing over Adrian's cowering one.

"Reassembling myself was the first trick I learned." Manhattan said with a note of smugness in his voice that was uncommon for him. "It didn't kill Osterman. Did you really think you would kill me? I have walked across the surface of the sun. I have witnessed events so tiny and so fast they could hardly be said to have occured at all. But you, Adrian, are just a man. The world's smartest man, poses no more threat to me than does it's smartest termite."

I looked at this immortal being with a new sense of wonder. Adrian held up his hand, in it a small device.

"What's that? Another ultimate weapon?" Jon asked.

"Yes." Veidt said, smiling. "You could say that." Slowly he pointed the device behind him and turned on the wall of televisions. On them were video's of an emergency press conference by President Nixon held in multiple different languages. Nixon explained that the Premier of the USSR and himself had agreed to put aside their past differences. "Do you see? Two super powers retreating from war."

By using Jon's power to destroy these cities it would leave the world in fear of another attack and force the disputing countries to unite against a common enemy, which was Dr. Manhattan. It was a beautiful theory once it was explained fully. Without condemning or condoning, Jon understood and would not turn Adrian in and destroy the peace that millions of people had died for.

While the others in the group were opposed to death toll Veidt had caused, Rorschach was opposed to the deception. Veidt wasn't an elected leader of the people, he didn't go to war with an enemy and attack it until he could achieve his goal. Instead he murdered millions and then framed Manhattan. He decieved the world, killed multitudes of people indiscriminantly and then demanded that everyone else become accomplices to the crime. Rorschach couldn't do that. He wouldn't be able to live with himself knowing he helped decieve the world.

"Keep your own secrets." Rorschach stated before storming past Dr. Manhattan. Adrian and Manhattan exchanged a glance that not only frightened me but Daniel as well. He and I went after him.

"Rorschach." Daniel called. "Wait."

"Never compromise. Not even in the face of Armageddon. That's always been the difference between us Daniel." With one last look at his friend and former partner he made his way out into the cold.

I took in a breath. I knew what was to come. I knew Manhattan wouldn't let us leave here alive. A calmness came over me as I followed my savior out into the snow.

"Don't follow me." Rorschach called over his shoulder. Boy did that sound familiar.

"I didn't listen to you then, why would I listen now?"

He stopped in his tracks then and turned to face me. I walked up to him, not more than a foot away. "Never compromise. Evil must be punished. Isn't that what you taught me?"

He grunted angrily and began pacing back and forth in front of me. "My rule. Not yours!" He shouted, stepping into my face so our foreheads were almost touching.

"It's my choice." I spoke quietly, trying to neutralize his anger with excessive calmness. I couldn't live in a world where he didn't exist. How could I walk the streets at night knowing he would never be there to save me if I needed him to? How could I investigate alone without him there to read my mind, to tell me what's missing?

He cupped my face with his hands speaking as softly as his rough voice would allow. "You must survive. You're my legacy, my greatest accomplishment. Must stay silent." I pulled away from him, angry. I would never ask him to compromise his integrety just so I wouldn't have to be alone. How could he ask me to do this?

He touched my face again and my anger evaporated, turning into the greatest sorrow I have ever known. "I can't let you die alone." I whispered, tears flooding my eyes, blinding me.

"Yes, you can. You will." His voice returning to his normal, harsh, demanding tone.

I nodded, I would give him this final request. I had nothing else to give but my strength. Reaching up, I took his hand from my face. We both turned then, my bare hand linked with his gloved one. If I couldn't die with him, I would be there with him to the end. He understood and without a word we began the long walk toward our fate.

We didn't walk for very long. Manhattan cut us off before we even passed the front entrance. Rorschach pulled his hand out of mine, automaticaly in fighting stance even though fighting would be useless against such a godly opponent.

"Out of my way. People have to be told." Rorschach growled menacingly.

"You know I can't let you do that." Came the calm, emotionless response.

I glanced between Jon and Rorschach, remaining silent. Having nothing to say, I had already lost everything that mattered. "Suddenly you discover humanity? Convenient." He paused, glancing at me before nodding to himself. He removed his hat and mask, tossing them to the ground. In his final moments he would die as both Walter Kovacs and Rorschach, the two finally co-existing as one. It was sad and beautiful. "If you'd cared from the start, none of this would've happened."

"I can change almost anything." Jon paused, looking almost remorseful. "But I can't change human nature."

Tears shone in Rorschachs eyes but his voice was clear. He nodded slightly. "Of course you must protect Veidt's new utopia. What's one more body amongst foundations?" I kept my eyes on him as his lips began to tremble and his voice wavered. Was he afraid of death or was he tired of caring the burden of being the only one who was brave enough to stand up for what was right? "Well, what are you waiting for? Do it." His voice almost pleading.

I slid my bare hand into Rorschach's gloved one. Offering my strength, offering to carry the burden. 'It's my turn now.' I thought silently. It seemed to help. His face grew hard, determined. "DO IT!" He roared in defiance at his mighty opponent. His voice echoed inside my skull as I watched with new horror as the blue arm raised to flex. Rorschach disintegrated in front of my eyes. I held nothing by his glove in my hand, warm blood splashed my face. It was then that I lost myself to the darkness of knowing.

This was the real joke. A good man lost to a worthless cause. Adrian didn't idealize human-kind, he deformed it. A society forced into peace by fear was bound to implode at some point. And when it did, I would be there, lurking in the shadows. The only one knowing that there is good and there is evil. And evil must be punished.

I looked down at the blood sprayed out against the white snow, blood so dark it was almost black. The vaporized body parts mingled together to form a Rorschach inkblot. Was it a beautiful butterfly or the mangled corpse of a dog? I guess its interpretation is yours alone.

I still work for Veidt International, wanting to keep tabs on Adrian since he murdered all those people. Since he murdered the only person I ever cared about. I work in his office now. Assistant. He doesn't know my face. None of them do. Rorschach made sure of that. Veidt doesn't notice the way I look at him. He wouldn't notice beneath the mask. The disguise I wear to hide my true self. He doesn't notice the hate that glitters in my eyes every time he smiles. How could he still smile? At night, I'm forced to walk into the shadows alone. Although not completely alone.

His things are where I left them. The same place he always left them. His coat, his hat, his spotless gloves... his face. Putting them on, I abandoned my disguise. Became myself. Free from fear, or weakness, or lust.

When I look into the eyes of the guilty, I know they only see Rorschach. His shifting mask, changing shape according to my moods. They don't notice the smaller form. They don't notice the slightly higher voice. All they see is his face. Death. Because that's what I've become. An Angel of Death, exacting justice the way the courts can't. What they call compassion, wanting to protect and understand the guilty. This rotting society, what it calls rehabilitation. It's nothing short of compromise.

You see, once you've seen society's black underbelly you can never turn your back on it. Never pretend -Like you do, dear Reader- that it doesn't exist. No matter who orders you to look the other way. We don't do this... thing, because it's permitted. We do it cause we have to. We do it cause we're compelled.

Epilogue

Because of the new peace treaties signed across the globe a lone conservative newspaper company in New York, New Frontiersmen, struggles to stay afloat. With barely a burglary to write about, the business is beginning to go under.

In desperation, an employee searches through the mail that was delivered before Dr. Manhattan's attack, hoping to give the blood thirsty people what they craved. A small brown book sits on top of the pile. It's edges beaten and dirty, the cover saying nothing but 'Journal' and dates '1984-1985'. 'Maybe this has something.' The young man thinks to himself while opening the small book slowly.

Rorschach's Journal: October 12th, 1985

Tonight, a Comedian died in New York.

~Fin