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Chapter 2 Nowhere like stoneware
It was some months later, as 1978 rolled its ugly head around and winter began to release its relentless grips on the New York streets, that he caught sight of a familiar looking woman cursing the chilly March air. She was drunk; he could tell even as she managed to control her every step in a perfectly straight line. She reeked of beer and whiskey that reached his nostril from his hiding spot in the shadows.
After their last encounter he had considered feeling guilty for attacking the whore, having discovered later she really did have no information on the murder and that it was simply a vengeance killing by an ex-lover of the deceased, but his suspicions would not allow such feelings of remorse. She was obviously guilty of something or she wouldn't have had a reaction to his probing. Most likely involved with some form of crime on 12th, he had decided, after realizing her reactions had only begun with the mention of that particular street.
As he continued to watch the woman, cursing like a sailor through the dark streets, pondering her possible criminal activities, the sound of male laughter was brought to his attention. Whistles and cat calls soon followed with the usual utterances of 'hey baby' and 'lemme talk to ya' as the four men came into the vigilante's view stalking twenty feet behind the drunken whore.
"Hruum," Rorschach growled, climbing down from the roof he was currently perched atop, ready to counter a potential rape.
As the masked man padded softly to the bottom of the fire escape, he heard sounds of the woman's clapping shoes stop abruptly at the mouth of the alleyway he was concealed within, and watched as she turned to face the gang of skinheads. Stupid, he considered, watching her sigh in annoyance, drunk and stupid.
"Hey baby." The first man chuckled, slapping the shoulder of the man next to him in a form of male bonding. "What you doing in a place like this so late at night?"
"Lookin' ta get raped, obviously." The woman retorted as her drunken state finally caught up with her body and caused her to sway gently.
"Well, I think we can help with that." The men laughed as they surrounded the woman. "Can't we, boys?"
"Never saed I wan'ed ta get raped by you." She frowned, cutting off their jeers of excitement.
"Not much you can do about that, honny." The first man made to grab her shoulder only to find his arm bolted upwards by a steady feminine hand and a foot crushing down on his shin, snapping it with a deafening crunch only surpassed by his high pitched scream of agony.
Shocked for a moment, the other three watched their friend's body crumple to the floor screaming at the top of his lungs before their faces contorted into sheer rage.
"You bitch!" The man to her left yelled, grabbing the back of her denim jacket and yanking her backwards as the man to her right pulled a fist back ready to deliver a blow.
As the punch came hurtling forwards, the woman ducked low, letting the jacket slide from her arms, leaving the first man holding the empty clothing. She punched her own fist into the assailant's abdomen, winding him a moment as she brought the second fist up into his downcast face, pushing herself into a standing position and turning suddenly to roundhouse kick the third man to the ground. The first man suddenly became aware of the empty jacket he was holding, caught in a daze, as she turned her attention to his raised fists still holding her jacket like a souvenir. One fist made contact with her left cheek before her hands managed to clutch his opposite hand, finding the jacket and wrapping it up and around his neck. As she pivoted behind him, the jacket turned into a noose when her foot collided with his rear, pushing him forward whilst pulling back on the entangled jacket.
He struggled, gurgling at the pressure around his neck as the third man, having found a large piece of wood from a nearby dumpster, swung it viciously at her head, missing by mere inches. It caused her to plummet onto the choking man's back and rebound onto the opposite side of his crouched form, yanking suddenly at the jacket till a resounding snap was heard.
Disentangling the jacket from the now dead man's neck and letting him slip despondently to the floor, the woman dodged a second roll of the wooden plank and slipped her jacket back on before catching the back swing of the wood between her forearms. She kicked the man directly in the crotch before tugging the weapon from his loosened grip and pummelling his doubled-over form with it until blood splattered the ground and nearby walls.
Panting heavily, she dropped the plank besides the two corpses and gazed briefly down at the whimpering man staring petrified at his shattered leg.
"Stop right there, bitch." The final man, the one she had somehow forgotten about, growled behind her clicking the hammer of a gun pointed to the back of her skull.
"Shit…" her eyes rolled.
"I can't believe you just … how could you just… THEY WERE MY BUDDIES! MY FUCKING FRIENDS!"
"Yeah, well, ma condolences."
"You think this is fucking funny?"
"Yes."
"This is a fucking gun!"
"Well done, Einstein. You know the difference between a gun and a rock. I'm sur' ya mother's very fuckin' proud of ya."
"SHUT THE FUCK U—"
The sounds of his final words caught short as the masked vigilante wrapped his arms firmly around the man's shaking neck and snapped it with ease. The gun tumbled from his dead fingers beside the woman's feet as she watched it grow still on the broken concrete. Straightening her clothes, the woman turned around, thumbing the inside of her loose fitting workman's jeans hanging off the hip.
"Ah shhhit. It's you." She gently slurred. "Not in the fuckin' mood for round twho t'night. Err, my fuckin' proba-shion officah is gonna kill me. You're like som' vigilante or som' shit, you tak' the credit for this."
She swiped a lazy hand around at the bodies in gesture. The masked man watched her, with increasing astonishment, as her drunken state seemed to be far worse than he first realised. After a few seconds in which the woman creased shut her eyes and almost tumbled forward, she finally continued a drunken rambling of curses.
"I'm gonna be sick…" she staggered forwards into the alleyway before the sounds of retching could be heard.
Rorschach grimaced beneath his mask and decided it best to vanish from the woman's view, following her home from the shadows, though he doubted anybody else would survive an encounter with her, sober or not.
Special thanks to Carnageincminor for Betaing.