Chapter Four
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Adrian stood naked in front of the window-wall in the living room of his penthouse in the Veidt Industries building, furiously scrawling equations on the glass. Quantum mechanics, complex rocketry, the formula for how much fuel would be needed to life how much weight out of earth's atmosphere…
"How to get a beast of those proportions off the ground and to earth…" groaned Veidt, "No! This should be easy!"
Veidt turned around, facing a large statue of Alexander the Great.
"I am Ozymandias, king of all this land!" he screamed
/
Dan woke up the next morning next to Laurie, feeling both accomplishment and shame. He had done a terrible thing, but at the same time accomplished one of his lifelong dreams. Of course his dream had been to have the first Silk Spectre, but it was close enough. Then a scary thought came into his mind. What would Jon think? Dan got out of bed, threw on a robe, and walked down the hall to Rorschach's room. Dr. Stevens said Rorschach just needed a good night's sleep and he'd feel better. 07:43. Early enough. Dan opened up the door, seeing his friend asleep on the bed. Out of respect, Dan had left his mask partially on, letting him breathe easier but still protecting his identity.
"Rorschach?" Dan whispered
He didn't respond.
"Rorschach?" Dan said, slightly louder
Rorschach's mask started moving again.
"Daniel?" he muttered, "How long have I been asleep?"
"About ten hours," Dan replied, "Dr. Stevens pulled a bullet out of you."
"Hurm…good to know some people are still faithful."
"Yeah…" talk of faithfulness made Dan nervous, "So how'd you get shot?"
Rorschach pulled himself up, and tugged his mask over his face.
"Yuppie parent letting his kid use drugs," Rorschach replied, "I was going to take him downtown, the guy shot me."
"So you weren't going to pound the kid in?" Dan asked
"Of course not."
"Wow, that's…" a thought sparked in Dan's head, "Rorschach, how would you like to tell that story to a friend of mine?"
/
Hector Godfrey arrived at Dan's house an hour later. Laurie had gone back home, and Rorschach had gotten dressed. Dan had placed his coat in the washer/dryer overnight, making Rorschach slightly easier to be around.
"Hello Hector," Dan shook the man's hand, "Did you find the place OK?"
"Yeah," Hector tried to light up a cigarette, "Thanks for calling me, Dan, this story could make my career."
"Anytime," Dan offered Hector his lighter
"So, where is he? Can I meet him?"
"Of course. Right this way."
/
Hector met Rorschach; the two of them talked about right-wing politics for half an hour before they got round to Rorschach's story. Rorschach was very good at detailing it. He described the sheer hatred he felt at the boy's father for letting his son think it was OK to break the law. Godfrey asked (purely hypothetically) if Rorschach thought it contradicted with Rorschach's defiance of the Keene act.
"Apples and oranges; you can't force someone to give up after they've seen society's black underbelly."
"Can I quote you on that?" Hector asked
"Of course…"
/
After two hours of talking, Hector left.
"Thanks again, Dreiberg," Hector said, "You know, I wish more of your people could be like you."
Dan tried not to be offended.
"Thanks…" he muttered
"This will be a great headline," Godfrey continued, "Rorschach to parents: Don't let your kids do drugs'. I'll be sure to credit you."
"I'd rather remain anonymous," Dan said quickly, "I don't exactly want people to know I've got Rorschach at my house."
"Oh, of course," Godfrey nodded, "Do you have a preferable pseudonym?"
Dan thought for a moment. He looked around his foyer, trying to get a good idea for a fake name. He saw a picture of Theodore Roosevelt.
"Ted…" he began
Dan saw a reel of thread on the ground.
"…Cord," Dan continued
Dan looked behind him to his kitchen, and saw a box of Special K on the table.
"And spell cord with a k," Dan added
"OK, Ted Kord…that sounds good."
/
Dan walked back to his friend.
"How's the bullet wound?" Dan asked
"Doesn't hurt as much," Rorschach replied
"That's very good to hear," Dan said, "So, this interview is going to do some good for your publicity."
"I'm not trying to start a singing career."
"Obviously, but it wouldn't hurt if you had more supporters."
"True…so how long will I be out of action for?"
"Stevens said two weeks is normally recommended, but for you he said five months."
"Why five months for me?"
"He knew you'd only do ten percent of what he said."
"Of course. But can only wait a week. Big case I'm on goes down Friday."
"Rorschach, do you have to go?" Dan said weakly
"Have to. City is dying, I am the cure for the criminal disease…"
"If you insist on doing this, then can you let me help you?"
"What do you have in mind?"
"Let me show you…"
/
They walked down to the basement, and Dan uncovered one of his workshop tables, revealing his many gadgets.
"Standard Kevlar armor," Dan picked up a bulletproof vest with NYPD sprayed on it, "This is standard issue with cops."
Dan hurled it on the floor.
"Not for you," Dan said, "This is more your style."
Dan picked up a vest that actually looked like a suit-vest, but stiffer.
"Special kind of plastic, absorbs all the shock of the bullet, conforms to its shape," Dan continued, "This will stop a knife."
He handed Rorschach the vest. Dan walked down the table.
"Watch," he held up a watch with a large square face, "This is a two-way radio that lets you have contact with me."
He handed it to Rorschach, then walked to the wall. He tugged at a tarpaulin, revealing his owl-cycle. It was a brown Harley Davison motorcycle with a Gatling gun mounted on the front.
"Now that's more like it," Rorschach said
Dan tossed Rorschach the keys.
"It's all yours," Dan said
Rorschach studied Dan for a moment.
"What do you want in return?" Rorschach asked
"Well…" Dan wasn't sure how to ask, "If you could try and tone down the violence. I mean, maybe instead of breaking someone's arm, you could just break their finger?"
Rorschach rolled his eyes. Typical Daniel, so sensitive. But then again, maybe the technology would fill the void that toned down violence would leave. Only one way to find out.
