CHAPTER TWO
New York
Sometime during the 1980's.
The Comedian lit a cigar. The single bright flame flickered and burned for only two seconds, long enough for Edward Blake to light his Cuban, then it was snapped shut. He took a brief pull of it, then spoke four words which essentially described his view of most of the other crimefighters in the room.
They described Ozymandias, the world smartest man who still could take the big joke of existence.
They described Nite Owl, a nerdy attempt at revitalizing Hollis Mason's dried-up crap.
They described Rorschach, a psychopath, just like Blake himself, but he still saw things as black and white, not realising it's all gonna end up grey if Nixon keeps doing things the way he is.
They described Dr. Manhatten, a case of 'the superman exists, and he is American,' essentially meaning he was Nixon's pet.
Blake didn't even go near describing Silk Spectre.
But he said the words anyway, while Ozymandias kept going on about what they can do to save the world. "This is all bullshit."
A flash of annoyance flashed across the face of the world's smartest man.
"You know, for a man who calls himslef the Comedian, I can never tell when you're joking."
"Watchmen," Blake smiled, the taste of tobacco and whiskey on his tongue already. "That's the real joke. It didn't work fifteen years ago, it sure as hell isn't gonna work now just cause you wanna keep playing cowboys and Indians."
"Maybe we should agree on no drinking at meetings," Nite Owl piped in. The Comedian only sniggered at that, before taking another swig, just to piss the bird off. "Look, Rorschach and I have made real headway on the gang problem by working together."
Rorschach spoke up, his grizzly voice only amde audible by the determination for vengeance.
"A group this size, seems like a publicity stunt. I'm not in it for the ink."
Ozymandias spoke again, and Rorschach prepared himself to see sparks fly between him and Comedian.
"We can do so much more. We can save this world..." Comedian chuckled again. "...with the right leadership."
Comedian stood up, a sarcastic grin on his face. "Yeah, and that'd be you, right Ozzy? Hell, you're the smartest man on the planet."
"It doesn't take a genius to see the world has problems."
"Yeah, but it takes a room full of morons to think they're small enough for you to-"
"Strange." Dr. Manhattan had spoken. The room had gone silent.
"What is?" said Rorschach, his inkblot mask shifting pattern slightly faster now.
"I'm senseing an influx of tachyons traveling through a time-space vortex not originating from this dimension."
"What the hell are tachyons?" said Comedian, a neutral look on his face.
"Tachyons are supposedly theoretical particles which can travel backward through what you perceive as time, therefore obscuring my vision of the future."
"What does that mean, exactly?"
Manhattan paused, then looked at his hands. They were glowing a much brighter blue than usual. The glow spread up his arms, travelling across his chest, down his legs until his entire body shone bright blue.
"It means...duck." And then the blue flash came, erupting from Manhattan and eveploping the entire room.
