Following Jojo had been less than a challenge for Rorschach. In fact, he had been able to predict most of Jojo's daily routine and take a short break to tie up a bank robber and rapist in between. Now, at exactly 12:45 pm on 125th and Lenox, Jojo was finally returning home after a long day of money collecting and hoe slapping. And Rorschach was there to greet him.

Rorschach caught him just as he was stepping through the door of his maisonette and approaching the stairs, grabbing the back of his collar and pulling him sharply back, the man turned sharply to face him and then stopped cold. Jojo's eyes widened as he registered the featureless face in front of him. "Oh god! Rorschach!"

"Want a word with you." The deep monotonous voice sent a shiver down his spine.

"Sure, sure buddy, I'm an open book."

"Recently you lost touch with one of your whores, goes by the name of Gail."

"Sorry, don't know 'er."

"Hurm..." Rorschach grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, pulling sharply until he heard a loud pop, "Try again. Next time I break it."

"I don't got no bitches named Gail!"

Rorschach began to put more pressure on the elbow joint, Jojo's knees buckled and he fell, "Short, black, last name Cortez, age 14."

"Oh, Leli! Yeah, dumb bitch tried to run out on me, said she was goin' ta finish school or some dumb shit like that. Workin' on getting her back though..."

"Through violent means?"

Jojo tried to size Rorschach up through his peripheral vision, Rorschach put more pressure on the joint, "Answer quickly."

"Augh! Yeah man, maybe...I mean no! No! No I never use violence to-"

"All I needed to know." He let go of Jojo's arm and watched the man scramble to his feet, holding his limp arm, "Be watching. Approach the child again..."

There was a flash of motion and suddenly Rorschach had Jojo's good hand held firmly in one of his own with Jojo's fingers pressed back toward his wrist. Before Jojo could pull away Rorschach had broken all of the fingers of that hand.

There was a bloodcurdling scream as the pain ran through Jojo's arm and down his spine to his feet. Rorschach watched the man fall to his knees, cradling his broken hand and suppressed the urge to sigh. No strength against pain. Not that he'd expected any.

Rorschach turned on his heel and disappeared through the darkness, the sound of Jojo's screams mingling with the whirr of a police siren, and eventually drowned out by the sounds of the city.

_______________________________________________

"Hey Gingy. Long time no see."

Walter lifted his eyes to the nearest fire escape to find Leli hanging by her feet from between the bars. Her face was swollen and bruised, her nose had a bandage over it and she had a black eye. Somebody had it in for this kid.

"It's been three days."

"Yeah? Time flies when you're on the run."

This peaked Walter's interest, "From who?"

Leli smiled wryly and swung herself upright with her back facing him, "Two days ago that vigilante dude...whatshisname..." she turned and looked at him, "the guy without a face..."

"Rorschach?" he had to correct himself to make it sound like a question.

"Yeah that. Well, he paid my old pimp Jojo a visit, broke all his fingers and dislocated his shoulder. Jojo's been sendin' people after me ever since. Just recently escaped a bat-wieldin' Dominican." She took some snow off a railing and pressed it to her black eye.

"Thinks you tipped off Rorschach?"

"Hells yeah. I just hope Rorschach leaves him alone so I don't end up gettin' killed."

Walter watched a freshly fallen snow flake land on his shoe and dissolve into water, "Be going now."

"Yeah, have a good one Gingy."

Walter grunted in response and continued on his way to work.

_________

There was a large commotion on 42nd that night when Walter came out of the train station; somebody had been shot and killed.

Automatically Walter assumed that it was Gail. He did not feel any remorse at the thought. In fact he felt as if a heavy weight had been taken off his shoulders. There was now one less morsel to feed the starving filth that infested his city.

An hour later Walter was walking home disappointed; the person shot was a thirty-two year old man, the murderer was speculated to have been a whore he cheated.

________

As he trudged through sleet and snow only blocks away from his house Walter had a tingling sensation in the back of his neck, the kind he usually got when somebody was watching him or getting ready to hit him.

He ducked.

There was the sound of rushing air and a soft "oof" as somebody hit the ground beside him. Walter stood quickly and grabbed his assailant by the back of his collar; lifting him and slamming him face-first into a street lamp. He let the man fall before grabbing him by his long curly hair and pulling his head back to look at him.

He was a kid, 19 at the most with a long thin scar that ran from his chin across his nose and eye to his forehead. He was Hispanic, maybe Puerto Rican or Dominican, and still clutched in his left hand was a baseball bat. Titanium.

"Lemme go man! I'n done nothin'!"

"Assault with a deadly weapon. Very bad."

"I'n hit you, it wa'n no goddamn assault!"

"Why are you here?"

"What? Can't a man walk in him own neighborhood without a problem?"

"What street are we on?"

The boy looked at him as if he were a strange deformed animal, "What?"

"If this is your neighborhood then you should know the streets. What street are we on?"

"Motherfucker I don't watch the goddamn signs-!"

"Wrong answer." He slammed the boys head into the street lamp again. When he pulled the boys head back blood was pouring from his broken nose and split eyebrow.

"Fucking psycho!"

He was right; Walter was acting too much like Rorschach. He had to calm down.

"Why did you attack me?"

"I'n do-OKAY!" He yelled his surrender when he saw the streetlamp getting closer, "My boss...local pimp, him got this policy; bitches don't get fired and bitches don't quit. Him got this young girl, makes most of his money for him, without her him goes broke. Fellas pay big bucks to spend a night with her. She's like fourteen I think. Fellas know, they don't care."

"What's this got to do with me?"

"Him said you saw when she tried to leave him the first time. Him said you saw his face and saved her. Him said either kill you or knock you out and take you back to base."

"What's he gonna do with the kid?"

"Kill her. Least that's what him said."

Walter let the boy go and stood back as he began to press snow to his broken nose. "Where is base?"

"Warehouse district, Brooklyn. Butler and third"

Walter regarded the boy for a moment. "You should run now before I change my mind."

The boy froze and looked up at him. "Wha-?"

He changed his mind.

Walter's fist made contact with the boys' skull before he even had time to register the movement; he fell backward, eyelids fluttering and was out before he hit the cold snow-dusted pavement.

Walter turned and jogged back toward the train station.

As supportive as he had been previously to the child's death, the idea of her being held captive, of her being abused and frightened before she died made him sick to his stomach.

Personal reasons.

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I had forgotten that Rorschach didn't start killing people until 1975, three years after the story begins, but it all worked out :P

Does anyone know what that last line is a reference to? :D

Stay tuned for the next chapter.