I wanted to make a fan fiction that doesn't portray Rorschach as a druggie, homosexual, or paired up with some dumbass female OC. Thus, I give to you this story. If you're fed up with sue fics or crap slash like I am than I hope you can find solace in this story. It was a bitch to edit. I also think it goes without saying that I don't own Watchmen. If I did I'd probably have a penis, money, and all that jazz. Granted, I would like a penis, money, and all that jazz.
"Do it!" The last words that Walter Kovacs ever uttered.
Well, that wouldn't be true. A more accurate proclamation would be the last words Walter Kovacs uttered in his own dimension. However, he would probably be uttering many other words in an entirely different universe. A universe parallel to his own, similar yet different. One could spout off all the cliche statements about inter dimensional travel that they wanted, but that wouldn't get the story to go anywhere. The point, was that Dr. Manhattan didn't have the heart to kill Rorschach. Instead, he sent him to a different world knowing Rorschach could no longer bear to live in his own. What to Nite Owl and any other on looker who so happened upon the scene seemed to be blood in the pure snow of the arctic was actually plasmid discharge from the teleportation.
At the moment Walter Kovacs' rather unconscious body was being hurled through a worm hole into the aforementioned other dimension. His mask clutched in his unconscious hand as his tattered and old trench coat flopped and floundered about his body as he fell through time and space. If he had been awake the sight of swirling colors and the glimpse of otherworldly figures that he passed on his extraterrestrial journey may have very well made his mind delve deeper into madness. Thankfully, the sociopath showed no signs of waking up even as the tunnel began to come to an end. The image of a morgue came into view. The room had an eerie green glow to it, probably due to it's fluorescent lighting. Either way, the unconscious masked man landed hard against the spotless white tiles with a large thud.
Unbeknownst to the man, he was not alone in the room, and the other occupant jumped in shock when a worm hole opened up in the morgue's ceiling and spat out a mass of fabric and appendages. The woman, who's name was Wilhelmina Ryan, had the right mind to believe that ghosts had finally manifested in the building.
Wilhelmina Ryan, who prefers the name Will but not Willie, was working as a Mortician's assistant. At the age of twenty three and sporting a black wig one wouldn't be able to tell that she was actually a green haired lesbian when she wasn't working. Will preferred to keep her job and her private life separate. After all, no one in their right mind would hire a green haired homosexual nihilist to handle their dead.
Still, going into any greater description of the mortician in training would only prove to stray the story further from the point. The point being that the occultist was inclined to believe that Rorschach was some sort of emissary of the dead that landed in her place of work to deliver messages from beyond. She wasn't sure how to feel about that, but Will figured it'd be a damn good idea to move the body away from her cadavers in the event that he began to work some otherworldly voodoo on her precious corpses. Lucky for Will, she was the only one working the graveyard shift that night aside from the security guard and thus didn't have to worry about anyone else stumbling across her emissary of the dead as she dragged him by his legs to the staff room. The woman had gotten Rorschach into the staff room in a matter of minutes thanks to the linoleum floor. Once in the staff room she'd removed her wig, shaking out her brutally short green hair. Sitting down she stared at the man on the floor with apprehensive curiosity. With his red hair and stubble he looked more like Danny Bonaduce than an otherworldly messenger. That was, till she noticed the shifting colors of the fabric he held in his hand.
Crouching over the man in a careful fashion Will's dark eyes studied the fabric. It was...moving. That was most peculiar to the young woman, so she took the liberty of attempting to pull the fabric from the man's hands.
Needless to say this was a terrible idea on Will's part. Rorschach's hand, or rather his fist, shot out as hard as a man who'd just experienced inter dimensional travel could, and hit Will square in the jaw. The lesbian fell back into the leather sofa, grasping her chin with her hand. He hadn't broken it, but she'd bitten on the inside of her cheek during the punch and was now bleeding profusely from the wound inside her mouth. Her eyes stared wildly at the man before her, as he returned an equally confused stare back at her.
Rorschach took a minute to recount what had just happened to him. He was in the Arctic, and he'd asked to Dr. Manhattan to kill him. So......He was dead? That had to be it. But, death was an awfully odd place. He'd expected golden gates and maybe even some nice fluffy clouds. After all, he was supposed to go to Heaven. He had been a good man, right? He'd been fighting evil, right? Unless he'd been sent to Hell.
"Am I in Hell?" The red head asked the shocked cyberpunk who was now grabbing a handful of tissues that she intended to stuff into her mouth to stop the bleeding.
"No, you're in New Jersey."