Good Cop, Bad Cop


Hoooly crap, I don't think I've ever updated so many stories before...cool. So...'sup? Characters may seem a bit...out of character 'cuz I kinda rushed because SOMEONE threatened to glue me to the behind of an Angel (WTF, man?) and, well it's three in the morning and I am friggin' tired. Oh hey, get ready for some awesome cameos in the next few chapters! Maybe. I dunno.

Disclaimer: Rorschach=Watchmen. Deadpool=Marvel. Star Wars=Star Trek?- NO! I'm sorry! Star Wars does not equal Star Trek! PLEASE DON'T KILL ME, NERDS!


Chapter 3: Reminiscence

So where to, good buddy?

"I dunno. Where do you think we should go?"

Rorschach paused and gave the man beside him an incredulous look, unseen through his mask. "You tell me," he rasped out.

"I wasn't talking to you, Spotty." Deadpool waved him off. "Now let's see; what hive of scum and villainy can help us get a lead on our soon-to-be dearly departed boss-man?"

Mos Eisley?

Star Wars references?

"The Hell House! Of course! Come on, R2," Deadpool grabbed 'R2's wrist and activated his teleporter. "Beam me up, Scotty!"

That's Star Trek, you dolt!-


Sister Margaret's school for wayward children was a place where unadulterated goodness ran thick in every hallway. In the fifties, it was infected by rats; most of whom, it turned out, were on the board of directors. The scandals that followed where of an unspeakable nature. Since then, Margaret's has been burned, condemned, demolished, rebuilt, burned again…but the rats have remained a constant…

Have you been going through our 90's comics again?

Maybe…

You can't use that as an intro, that's plagiarism.

Is not!...What's 'plagiarism'?

Never mind…

Oh, just let me finish! This chucklehead of an author couldn't think of anything more creative.

Fine.

Welcome to…

"…Hell House!"

Damn it!

Deadpool and Rorschach appeared before a dilapidated old building. What was once pristine and majestic, was now a run-down pile of planks barely held together by rusted nails. Weeds and tangled grass grew unchecked, transforming the lawn back to its wild origins. Shingles were missing from the roof, and the times had long since washed away its color. The windows were boarded up, but a faint light and voices came from behind them. Deadpool took a deep breath and drew in the musky scent of decaying wood and festering garbage. "Ah, just like I remembered it!"

Rorschach sniffed the air and looked around with a deepening frown. "Where are we?" He demanded. They weren't in New York anymore. This place had a different vibe than the city he'd patrolled for the past month. He was out of his territory, and Rorschach didn't like it one bit.

"I just told you; the Hell House." Deadpool explained. "If there was anywhere that could be connected to crimes across the country, it's this dump. We'll dig up a trail faster than Johnny Storm's resurrection."

"What?"

"Just dig." The mercenary grabbed his companion and dragged him towards the door. "Now let's introduce you to the folks." He kicked the door from its hinges and barged in. "Heeeeere's Deadpool!"

A sudden silence settled over the establishment's patrons. Deadpool's brow furrowed as he took in all the unfamiliar faces. There was a distinct lack of colourful costumes in the room. And girls. Pretty girls. "Who the hell are you people?"

This place has really gone to the dumps. Look at all these plebs!

"That's what we should be askin' you." Deadpool turned to see that a group of these newbies had gathered around him. The largest of them (and presumably the stupidest) led the pack and attempted to defend his 'territory'. "We don't take tresspasin' too kindly 'round here. 'Specially not from any costumed freaks."

"Oh well y'all are just migh'ty fine an' welcomin', ain't y'all's? Shoot, I's feels right at homes and such here." Deadpool replied with an exaggerated southern drawl.

Hanging out with Outlaw was bound to have its uses.

"Among other things…" The mercenary muttered with a smirk.

"Are you mockin' me?" The 'pack leader' took a threatening step towards Deadpool.

"Well, I sure ain't saying I had a good time with your mother last night. Speaking of which, I want my money back."

"Why ya little-!" A vein visibly popped on the larger man's forehead as he moved to grab the merc. His cohorts made a circle around them, excited for a brawl and shouting encouragements. Deadpool easily side-stepped his initial attack and gave the man a hard jab with his elbow. The man doubled over, winded, but recovered and gave a back-handed swipe. Deadpool dodged and countered with a kick that sent the other man flying.

Seeing their leader in a pinch, one of the gathered thugs took the opportunity to sneak up behind the distracted mercenary. He pulled back for a punch, when suddenly his arm was caught in a vice-like grip. A black and white mask loomed in his vision before a crack caught his attention, and pain caused him to collapse the ground.

Rorschach stared at the lowlife on the ground, then looked at those gathered around him. They were struck with a deafening silence as they stared at the man with the moving mask. He had simply stepped in and effortlessly crippled a man. Many of them recognized his face from the news, and fear started to grip them.

"Hey, thanks for the assist, partner, but I could've taken-"

SMACK!

Deadpool's sentence was cut short by a gloved fist to his face. He toppled over in a daze, staring up at the morphing mask.

"Finished?" Came Rorschach's rasping growl. He directed the question at both Deadpool and the establishment's patrons. They gave a few frantic nods and hurried back to their tables, or in the case of some others, straight out the door.

"What was that for?" The red-clad mercenary demanded as he picked himself off the floor. "Partners don't sock each other in the face! Okay, they sometimes do, but that's only during scenes of emotional climax, and I didn't get the memo that I broke the Buddy System by going to the bathroom by myself."

Rorschach literally growled at him. "We have a mission. Need a lead, fast. No time for distractions. Something you are prone to."

"What's the fun of a quest without any side-quests?" Deadpool stated. "Can you imagine playing Zelda without going on any cock-runs or fishing trips? I know I can't."

Rorschach considered punching the guy again for good measure, when a shout came from the back of the room.

"What's all the ruckus out there? If I told you mooks once, I've told you a thousand times, NO FIGHTING ON THE PREMISES!" A large, middle-aged rotund man came waddling out, his face red and contorted in annoyance. "If you break anymore tables, I'll take it out of your– Deadpool?"

The merc in question turned at the sound of his name. "Whoa, watch it, wide-load. Careful where you park that."

"Deadpool! It IS you! You came back!" The man rushed over and grabbed Wade in a crushing bear-hug.

"H-hands off…the…merchandise..." Deadpool struggled out of the man's grip and drew out his guns. "I don't know who you are, tubby, but I don't swing that way."

Which way DO you swing?

"Quiet, you."

"Uh, don't you remember me, Wade?" Asked the man. "You've known me since way back."

Deadpool frowned as his jumbled mind tried to recall his memories. "You wouldn't happen to have been a chunky Vegas showgirl named Petunia, would you?"

"Maybe this will help." The proprietor rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a black mask. He put it over his eyes and spread out his arms. "Well?"

Wade studied the man again, and something clicked. "Wait, I know you. You're…C.F.!" Then he punched him hard in the gut.

Rorschach watched in fascination as Deadpool's fist sank into the other man's abdomen. The man's body contorted like rubber and bounced back, almost comically like in a cartoon. However, even with the force that Deadpool put into the punch, the man looked no worse for wear.

"Oomph! Ow, what did I do?"

"That's for hugging me in public. You were dropping my macho meter."

Moooopeeed.

"It's manly!"

Sure it is.


Rorschach's Journal: December 3rd

Investigating possible leads on the Boss. Guided by a mercenary named Deadpool. Same one who was hired to kill me. No progress so far. Stuck in a filthy hovel for the dregs of society. They eke out a living through the pain of others. Should torch the entire place. Maybe that will be enough to cleanse the area. Deadpool is 'catching up' with a friend. He is standing on the table, chugging three beers at once, while other morons are cheering for him. These fools choose the biggest fool as their king. Hurm.

Need to speed things up. Trail will go cold, and I don't intend on losing my target because of Deadpool. Must rid myself of the filth soon.

"Hey Spot! Catch!"

Rorschach calmly dodged a beer bottle thrown at him, not even looking up from his journal.

"Aw man! That was a perfectly good bottle wasted! 'Wasted' HA!"

In irritation, Rorschach snapped his book closed and went to the throng of drunken mercenaries. He stormed past Deadpool, kicking the table he was on and making the merc fall over in his drunken stupor, and grabbed the rotund proprietor by the collar.

"Need information on The Boss," He growled. This whole night has been stressful for him and he wanted results. "Don't give it quick enough, don't keep fingers. Rubber can snap too."

"That's no way to ask for something," Deadpool sauntered over from the crowd. Rorschach glared at him from beneath his mask, daring him to intervene. But the man surprised him by grabbing his friend and tossing the poor guy at the wall. C.F. made a comical bounce from the wall to the floor as Deadpool turned to his partner and grinned. "THAT'S how you ask for something." Picking up his 'friend', he slammed him against the wall and asked "Gimme all the contracts for New York that involve a job with a crime syndicate. You ARE still running Patch's stall, right?"

C.F. didn't even seem fazed. Threats must have been a daily occurrence with Deadpool. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get 'em for you. Lemme off, would'ya?" Deadpool let him go.

"By the way, why ARE you running the Hell House?" Asked Wade. "Where's Patch? Did that old midget finally retire?"

"Wade," C.F. said slowly, "Patch has been dead for ten years."

Rorschach could've sworn he saw confusion in the white eyes of his counterpart. He didn't know who this Patch was, but he seemed to be within the merc's circle of acquaintances.

"Ten years?" Deadpool frowned. "I could've sworn I was in here last week."

"You haven't been back ever since the T-Ray incident. Your head still frazzled, Wade?"

"I got it fine-tuned a while back. Guess some things you can't fix. So how'd the pixie bite it?"

"You know; disgruntled customer, got a bad job, botched it and blamed it on Patch. Clichéd stuff, really. Poisoned those 'specialty' chocolates he liked." C.F. unlocked the door to his shabby little office. The rickety stool the previous diminutive proprietor stood on still waited there for its user. Rorschach decided to wait outside the already crowded room, but he could still hear their conversation. "You should've seen the bastard after Fenway got through with him, though. Whacked his head 'til it did a 180."

Wade chuckled at the image. "Good man, Fenway. Had 'Camaraderie' written on all over. I know 'cuz I took a Sharpie and wrote it on him that time he got wasted so bad. What happened to him?"

C.F. wrenched open a rusty file cabinet that was overflowing with job requests and assassination contracts. "Retired. And get this; he got a job coaching the Little Leaguers! Him! Teachin' kids!" The two mercenaries laughed at the thought of their friend trying to handle a bunch of brats armed with baseball bats. "As for me; after Patch was given a proper sendin' off (we torched the house of the bastard that did him in) no one really wanted the job, so I took it. Without you here, someone needed to keep these rookies in line." He collected the necessary files and handed them to Deadpool. "Here's all the New York jobs I currently have. If I get any new ones I'll send 'em your way."

"Thanks man, I owe you one."

Rorschach and Deadpool had a foot out the door when C.F. called out "Just don't take a decade to visit! And bring your friend with you! He sure knows how to keep things interesting!"

"Will do, C.F.!" Deadpool waved as he activated his teleporter, and the two unlikely partners vanished.


Back at his apartment, Wade cleared a spot on his coffee table/footstool and threw the files on top. "There's bound to be a job request from the Boss or something that links to him in there," he said as Rorschach looked through them. "We go there and you work your charm on them while I do clean-up." He let out a sigh as he plopped down on the couch. "Man, what a day. First I fight you, then get shot at, then fight you, then fight you again, then fight people fighting me fighting you, then fight you fighting C.F., then find out Patch is dead. I'm beginning to see a pattern." He let out a yawn. "I don't know about you, but I'm beat. Literally. You can crash here if you want. Don't let the bedbugs bite; they hurt like a bitch." He got up and retreated to his room.

As Rorschach read the forms, he had to grudgingly admit that he too was tired from the night's events. It stemmed far from his usual habits. His typical night involved a patrol through the alleys, busting anyone who dared to commit a crime in his presence, or on the trail of one of the criminals. When day broke, he'd retire back to his nondescript apartment. The money he took from the felons was enough for the rent and basic rations. It was pretty much the same as back home. Except, he needed to be extra cautious due to the abundance of Masks. There were always a few of them when he was roaming around, and he avoided them like the plague. No need to draw unwanted attention.

Rorschach hadn't taken on any superpowered villains yet, not until he researched and adapted to their strange powers. One wrong move could kill him, if what happened tonight was anything to go by, and that was with a regular crime boss. The other 'heroes' had them under control. Just barely. Frankly, he was disgusted by how these supposed 'heroes' were regarded in this world. Sure, the people respected them, but it was like being distracted by a novelty, and the affects will soon wear off. The way they pranced around, 'fighting' supervillains and blathering about truth and justice was quite revolting to him. Their naivety and adherence to a 'no killing' code of conduct was infuriating. Did they know how much damage they cause every time they fight a supervillain? Did they know of the casualties that occur? Casualties that could have been prevented if they actually had the guts to finish the criminals off.

'Heroes' like them were everywhere, in his world or this one. Always trying to cling to that idyllic fantasy of justice, and trying to achieve it through useless means. They were cowards, all of them, too weak and scared to take on the full brunt of the responsibility of justice. Someone had to do it, and that someone was him. Just as he did before.

Thinking about it, Rorschach had no idea how to get back to his world. Thanks to Dr. Manhattan, Daniel would've believed him dead, and Jon (if he was still on Earth) wouldn't deny it. But he had to get back! Millions died, and they needed to know the truth behind it all, that it was all a deception created by Veidt. But how? How would he return? From what he knew, there were quite a few Masks who dabbled in inter-dimensional travel, but Rorschach didn't think it wise to contact them just yet. He's already cast himself in a rather negative light (homicidal serial-killer tends to do that) and truth be told, he didn't trust any of them, either. So for now, he was stuck here, regretfully with a compulsory tag-along.

Speaking of, his host was as strange as one could get. Deadpool obviously had some sort of mental issue going on, talking to himself and, from what Rorschach deduced from his conversation at the Hell House, memory loss. It was dangerous to be consorting with a character like him, but he had little choice. It took weeks for Rorschach to track down the Boss, and he'd be damned if he let it go. He'll sell his soul to the devil if he had to, if it meant taking this guy down. The Boss had a reputation of extortion, drug trade, and murder, and was as depraved as any could find.

Deadpool, however, was another matter entirely. Rorschach's initial impression of Wade was a selfish, narcissistic psychopath who killed for entertainment and money. His mental problems played in a bit of it, but his personality screamed villain. To top it off, Deadpool's aggravating behaviour grated on his nerves. But after witnessing the change in him at the mention of the time-lapse and Patch's death, Rorschach saw something like a lost and confused child seeking attention in the mercenary.

He shook his head. It was a bad idea to compromise. The longer he was in the presence of the mercenary, the more familiar he would become. That would cloud his judgement and hinder his actions. He needed to finish this issue soon and cut his ties with Deadpool. If nothing then for the sake of his sanity.


Notes: Hey, let's continue our stimulating conversation about kumquats! I'd like to thank those of you who gave those wonderfully useful reviews telling me what they are. Too bad I don't believe you. I STILL think they're a type of squash. Screw you all who think otherwise. Heck, any of you Science majors out there? Genetically combine a Kumquat and a Squash and called it a...Kumsquat. I'd do it myself but I think I failed Math. I'll be looking forward for your thesis in the reviews. G'day.

- Chindu, Prince of Darkness