A/N: I DO NOT own any part of Watchmen. Was just wondering if anyone was still interested in this, but I caught a review so here you go! Can get kind of discouraging. With all the hype dead surrounding the film, I never expected big success with this story. At least not until some half-assed Hollywood sequel shows up, or Before Watchmen gains a little popularity. I still got more reviews originally when I did this on my second account, so as you can understand I sometimes have my doubts, particularly since it takes so long for me to update. So thanks for sticking around, I hope you all continue to!
Scene (Allegro moderato)
Rorshach stared intently at the corpse of the young man strewn out before him, blood pooling into the carpet around his head like some sort of nightmarish halo. The red stickiness seeped into the fibers of the carpet, small spurts shooting out to cover the small clots of skull and brain matter spattered across the surrounding area.
His eyes were wide open, face frozen in an expression of surprise. Rorschach had watched him and the junkie throughout the night, fraternizing in her bedroom, biting, touching, licking. He had seen against his wishes the boy climb on top of her, thrusting intensely in a way reminiscent of how he would come across Sylvia as a child.
And here he was now, dead. Glancing down at his pale arms, Rorschach noted the scar, old track marks, a junkie just like the other one.
A fate deserved? Perhaps too harsh, but takes one off the street nonetheless. Rorschach thought bitterly, then turned his attention to the fray that continued to unfold before him. The girl with a gun in her mouth, sobbing weakly as the man he had been after so long spat insults at her.
"…You're just lucky I have to make this quick, else I'd fuck you up so you'd wish you were dead. Should've just done what I told you Holly."
"Danny man we gotta go." Came another voice, and Rorschach stared at her girl. Her face was bright red as she gagged on the heavy metal jammed into her mouth. Each wracking sob brought forth both disgust and the smallest inkling of pity within Rorschach's stony heart. She pumped the drugs into her own veins and spent time with the lowest of the low. She had brought herself here by her own doing. He had learned long ago there was a very fine line between black and line that was not to be crossed.
But she emitted the smallest glow of innocence, as if trying to break free of the vile corruption that bound her. She reminded him of the woman he never met all those years ago, the woman who had died and given him his new face.
Kitty Genovese gave Rorschach a beginning, and Blair Roche breathed him new life. As the girl sat on her knees, eyes squeezed shut tightly as she waited for her execution, Rorschach was reminded of the crime all those years ago and the way it had changed them. The people that had watched and waited, taking no responsibility as Kitty Genovese died.
She was a junkie. She deserved to be in jail, just like the corpse on the floor. But to be killed? Execution style by a murderous Hispanic attempting to become a drug-lord? Rorschach didn't believe in mercy, but he did believe in justice.
For Genovese. Do it for Genovese. He thought darkly, then darted through the living room, convincing himself he was doing it for the dead woman. Peering around the couch, Rorschach quickly tried to formulate a plan as someone began to bang on the front door loudly.
"Holly?! Holly is everything alright in there? I called the police!" a voice called out, and two of the thugs pointed their guns at the door, shooting carelessly as a scream echoed on the other side. The voice sounded familiar, but Rorschach knew he couldn't have known the person.
The voice ceased, and Rorshach took the opportunity to sneak around the couch, pulling out his grappling gun and aiming it carefully.
He needed to make certain that when he attacked his target, his finger did not slip on the trigger, sending the junkie's brain splattered across the floor like her friend. It was a tricky situation, the way he had his gun jammed into her mouth with his finger on the trigger. The slightest movement would be the end of her life, and Rorschach had no room for mistake.
He needed a distraction, not an incapacitation. Turning, Rorschach set his sights on a new target and shot his gun, letting it catch around the ankle of one of Gutierez's goons, yanking the man to the ground as he emitted a loud yelp of confusion and pain. As expected, everyone turned, gazing down out him and Rorschach sprang forward, incapacitating him quickly, then turned his attention to Daniel Gutierez.
As planned, the greasy-haired thug removed the gun from the junkie's mouth and she remained in the spot, staring at him wildly through teary eyes like a dumb deer, stuck in the headlights. Rorschach wanted to hit her on the back of the head for the way she remained in a trance instead of running and hiding like she should've, but he couldn't draw attention to her. Not until he dispatched the man he was after.
"Not this fucker again. You fucking him too Holly?!" Gutierez screamed arrogantly, face bright red and contorted with ferocity. Snapping his head back sharply, he stopped, glancing around to find that Holly was no longer there. Indeed, she had finally found her mind and crept away when both he and Rorschach weren't looking.
"Take care of him, quick. We gotta get outta here you heard that guy say he called the cops." Gutierez then barked, peering around the couch as his crew rushed towards Rorschach at once. Without so much as a second thought, Rorschach began to dispatch them all one by one, as quickly as he could despite the protest in his shoulder. Then men were supposed to be soldiers, proving nothing more than pathetic children parading around in shoes much too big for them. Street kids, drug addicts, low-life criminals. They weren't muscle for hire. They were the lowest of the low, and Rorschach took them each in stride even with his injury.
Much to his surprise, he found himself winded after a short while and turned to find Gutierez had disappeared, though he knew he could not have left. Knocking the last crony unconscious, Rorshach leaped over the dead body of the boy once more then followed a path down the carpeted hall as he heard voices. Turning into the semi-familiar bedroom that he knew a bit too well, he found Holly standing in the center of the room with a gun in her hands, pointing it shakily at the gang leader in the doorway.
"What you're going to shoot me? You pathetic cow you can't even say no to me!"
"Shut up Danny!" she exclaimed through bright red eyes and Rorschach remained where he stood, both interested in how the situation would play out, and pushed for time. The cops would appear any moment, and undoubtedly twist the story for the press that Rorschach had slain everyone including the boy in some sort of maniacal outbreak.
They'd pay off the girl to keep her mouth shut, just enough for her to buy her precious drugs and disappear from the limelight, only to turn up dead after ODing somewhere in the city.
"You can't do anything. Like you couldn't say no when I got every single one of the guys to fuck you. Like you couldn't say no when I cut you. You couldn't say no when I told you to sell to those kids. You're weak and used up you pathetic bitch." He spat, striding forward.
Almost as if in slow motion, Rorschach watched as the girl's finger pulled the trigger several times, sending bullets flying into Gutierez's body. He reeled backwards, blood spurting from the wounds and streaking the walls and carpet as he stumbled back for a moment, then crumpled to the floor, two feet away from where Rorschach stood.
The gunshots rang in his ears, an unwelcome explosion unsuited for human ears. Glancing down at the body, a whimper stole Rorschach's attention and he looked over at the girl Holly as she fell to the ground, trembling violently and let out a long, pained scream.
Holly stared out her open front door, watching as the EMTs covered Mr. James' body with a white sheet before turning her attention to the responder caring for her.
"I'm fine." She said, yanking her arm out of the woman's hand before wrapping them around herself. The woman said something then threw up her hands in frustration, walking away and leaving Holly to once more eye the red stain and chunks on her carpet where Tony's head had previously been.
All around her apartment, cops mulled about, taking note, taking pictures, and removing bodies, but it was Holly who would be left to clean up the mess. She had definitively decided she would not stay another day in the apartment. The problem of course would be cleaning up and finding another place to stay before she could leave New York altogether.
"Now, let's just review this one more time. Daniel Gutierez and his friends came in here and threatened you, Rorschach came in, took care of these guys, they shot your neighbor over there then you killed Gutierez in the bedroom. How did he get in?"
Holly glanced up at the detective, and hard blonde man by the name of Fine who persistently questioned her about Rorschach more than her assault. She had no choice but to reveal he was there. Even Holly knew the police would piece together the puzzle quicker than she could create a plausible excuse.
But she didn't know where he was, and could give an honest answer on that. Though if she did, there was no way she would tell the police. So far he had saved her life twice now, and Holly felt nothing short of indebted to him.
Even as she hugged a blanket tightly to her frame she couldn't help but think back to the situation in her bedroom after she killed Danny.
She shook ferociously, rocking back and forth as bile climbed in her throat. Barely aware of the masked hero in the doorway Holly lifted her head and screamed: the only thing she could do. Feeling heavy tears roll down her face she stared at Danny's lifeless body, expecting him to spring back up at any moment. He couldn't be dead. Not the man who said he would live forever.
A soft mass of fur brushed against her, accompanied by the quietest of mews as Socks peered from under the bed, but Holly paid no mind, still frozen where she was.
"He…there was a knock at the door…and I went to open it and they all came in." Holly answered in a dead voice, feeling completely empty inside.
Her silent savior moved across the room quickly, inching towards the window and Holly found it within herself to speak, voice cracked as it passed through a thick throat.
"P-p-please. The p-pills. On the desk." She managed, unable to stand up on legs guaranteed to give out. She heard Rorschach shift behind her and closed her eyes. She was overcome with fatigue, so great she felt she would slump over at that very moment and collapse on the floor.
"I have Parkinson's. The pills…please." Holly choked out.
"Ms. Abraham are you aware of the history of Danny Gutierez? I mean, we've been after the guy for months. He's a known violent criminal with a history of assault and abuse, not to mention a slip on trafficking charges, possession, attempted-"
"Give it a rest Joe. Look, you got someplace to stay tonight?" Detective Fine asked, and Holly shook her head sullenly, glancing down at the floor. She had no one, and nobody. Nowhere to go, nothing to do.
Holly grasped the gloved hand tightly as he dropped the pills into her mouth. Forcing herself to swallow without freezing and choking she gripped onto his arm tightly as the pill went down, not wanting to be left alone, even as the sirens grew louder.
"No relatives? Friends?"
"No. Nobody." Holly shook her head as the haunting realization that she was completely alone in the world dawned no her.
"Well…I guess we can find you a hotel to stay at for a bit. Until you can get back in here. Anyone we can call for you?" the detective pried even further and Holly shook her head, before clearing her throat.
"My sister lives with my aunt. Our parents died…I don't have anyone I know here it was just me."
"We'll need you to come down to our precinct tomorrow." The other detective butted in, whose name Holly knew as "Joe" and she could not help but glare at him. After all she had been through he threw around implications and insults, questioning her at every turn and even stated she had brought the situation upon herself, much to the horror of both Holly and his partner.
And so for the next hour Holly let herself sit on the couch miserably, horrific images playing in her head as she recounted over and over again what had happened, and reliving the nightmare, one moment at a time.
Rorschach's Journal, June 25th, 1982
City lost one more monster last night. Daniel Gutierez, growing crime lord hurts no one any longer. Not dead by my hand but dead nevertheless. The streets will have some peace though a new breed of filth will soon arise to take his place. Mumbles this evening or his replacement. Yellow Gang seeks to rebuild but cannot be allowed. Grumbles in the night told of plans to elect a new leader then seek final vengeance on the junkie, Holly. Something I cannot allow.
She is weak. Broken. Pathetic. Powerless to fight for self but has some strength. Parksinson's. Not much known about the disease. Points to unjustifiable reason for drug use, still does not lessen guilt or make usage acceptable. Still commits crime, and must pay the price.
Must find more of involvement in dealing. Gutierez made comments, her face said more. But tonight I have taken respite from the whiles of Daniel Gutierez and found solace in the face of corruption. Bringing the reality of the NYPD to light, atrocities committed by officers. Gang rape of teenage girl. She will no longer fear the night, for I have persecuted her vile offenders.
Dawn beckons. Tired. More tired than ever before. Will visit Nite Owl for further analysis on shoulder wound which itches persistently. For now much avoided sleep calls me.
Rorschach slammed his journal shut, staring up at the ceiling of his shabby apartment. Closing his eyes, he felt a faint breeze touch the pale skin of his true mask, the face that once belonged to Kovacs. Rolling over, he clutched the dingy sheets of his mattress then allowed himself to close his eyes.
He did not like to sleep, but fatigue overpowered his protests as he struggled to keep heavy eyelids open. After several moments he gave up fighting like a child and allowed himself to fall into slumber, sinking into nightmares that resurrected the long-dead Walter, making Rorschach feel as vulnerable a person as he had in his life.
He awoke to the sounds of persistent banging on his door, accompanied by the voice of Doloras Shairp, a woman he loathed just as much as the scum her dealt with night after knight.
"Open up this door!" she exclaimed, and Rorschach climbed out of his bed, slipping into a pair of pants as he listened carefully. Gazing at the stream of light on the other side of the door he could make out not one shadow, but too, and as he took a moment to listen her heard the faint murmur of another voice.
"I ain't doing anything for you. This perv owes me rent." Shairp snapped at the mystery speaker then began to bang on Rorschach's door again, this time so violently he curled his fists as he tried to control his anger. Doloras Shairp was nothing but an atrocious child-abusing miscreant who reminded him endlessly of Sylvia, and anything that reminded Rorschach of Sylvia was not something he approved of.
Opening the door, he stopped shortly, frozen in his tracks as he caught sight of the woman standing several feet before Shairp. She had choppy brown hair and large doe eyes, framed with thick lashes which pointed down at full pink lips. Her olive skin was flushed red, and Rorshach almost unintentionally slammed the door as he found himself staring at none other than the girl named Holly.
It didn't make sense. He didn't believe in coincidence, and it was not only improbable but impossible for her to show up at his doorstep, out of all the apartments in New York. Not without her knowing. But how could she have known? And who could she have told?
"Where's my rent?!" Shairp suddenly barked, and Rorschach glanced at her, a steady frown on his face as his eyes continuously shot back to the girl who looked around awkwardly. For a moment, she cast a fleeting glance at Rorschach and his heartbeat quickened before she looked away, as though she had not the faintest clue of who he was.
"Not due for three days." He finally responded, continuing to observe the girl from the corner of his eye. He had to do something. The minute Shairp left he would force her to tell him how she knew where he lived and what she wanted.
"I can collect whenever I please. Let me guess, you doing have it? You filthy-"
"-I'm sorry to interrupt but do you think I could have the key now? It's just the cat, he's getting a little irritated. I should get him inside." The junkie broke in, and for a moment Rorschach almost jumped in front of her, forgetting who she was as Shairp cast such a fierce glare at the girl she shrunk back.
"That thing leaves your apartment I'm calling Animal Control you hear? I want that rent Kovacs." Shairp cast a last glance at him then tottered down the hall with the girl in tow who gave him a last look of unmistakable pity before leaning down and picking up the cat. As Rorschach watched, she walked down to hall, two doors down where Shairp stuck a key into the door and opened it, the two disappearing inside.
Quietly, Rorschach stared after, his face still frozen in an expression of awe. Glancing around, he looked down at his watch to observe the time. He had slept most of the day away, a travesty. Night would arrive within the passage of several hours, and Rorschach would prowl the streets, but tonight he had a bigger mission. He would confront Holly and demand to know who she had found him. Such information didn't come by chance, meaning she had to be working with someone, relying on his brief unsubstantiated pity to allow her to live.
They had been counting on his weakness, and proved to be a keen and cunning opponent. But Rorschach would fall victim to no one. He would discover the truth behind the girl who so decidedly entered into his life, more than likely seeking to end his career as a wanted vigilante. And for what?
Money. Drug money. Perhaps avoidance of jail time from police. Or maybe working with Yellow Gang. Offs Daniel Gutierez to secure a place for herself and new lover. All that's left is to tie up loose ends-Rorschach. He thought to himself bitterly, then slammed the door to his shabby apartment closed, pacing the room quietly as he formulated a plan.
"Hello, Holly? Holly Abrams?
"This is she." Holly answered the phone, setting it on her lap as she rested cross-legged on the floor of her new apartment, surrounded by boxes of junk which absolutely would not fit.
To say the place was a downgrade was an understatement. Holly didn't need the in-person eviction notice from her landlord to decide she was going to leave, however. After spending an uncomfortable night in the only hotel the NYPD would afford her, she decided to pack up her things and let maintenance worry about the blood that stained her carpets and walls.
The search for a new place to live came down to who could house her immediately at the cheapest price. Boxes cost money, as well as the steadily increasing price of her medication. With each passing day, Holly wondered if she should just call her aunt, pack up, and go home. She would find a full-time job there to make ends meet, at least until she came up with something better.
Of course, moving back home would require Holly to inform her aunt of her situation. And that would involve revealing her sordid past in the city (as if her aunt couldn't tell). And as a result, Holly would find herself in some rehabilitation facility sitting beside former addicts who would jump at the site of a fix. And Holly would join them, riding the up and down roller coaster of sobriety and relapse. In the end, her life would be even more of an unmitigated disaster than it was at the moment.
"Hello Holly, it's Vladensik Dharevski. I was wondering if you could join us for a sectional tomorrow afternoon. There's a few things we need to cover before upcoming rehearsal."
Holly paused, glancing across the room at her cello case. In the haze of the past few days she had completely forgotten about her real job, one that she was more than likely going to lose in the future. The very thought of carrying to giant case just outside the apartment building warned of attack and robbery, there was no doubt about it. Quite frankly, Holly was uncertain she felt safe leaving the safe haven her new apartment afforded her.
Even with a menacing landlady and less than friendly neighbors, she was willing to accept her new life as what it was: a new life. She was never well suited for the orchestra anyway, surrounded by middle-aged artists who boasted wealth and shunned mediocrity.
"No I-I don't think I can make it. Sorry." Holly said resolutely, before hanging up the phone, not allowing her first chair leader to speak any further. Setting the heavy rotary phone on the floor once more Holly glanced out her tiny apartment as a full moon emerged from several whispy clouds.
A small mew attracted her attention as Socks, her longtime friend and companion rubbed himself against her arm, coaxing a small snuggle. Picking up the tuxedo cat, Holly held him tightly and pressed her lips to his small head.
Socks was a living and breathing animal, perhaps the only thing Holly felt she had control of in her life. Every morning he awoke beside her, begging for a meal, and every night he came to her expectedly for dinner. They had come across one another during Holly's early days in the city. While taking an extremely-interesting stroll through St. Mark's place, Holly came across an off-colored gent with pink hair, tattoos and piercings, a trenchcoat, and a litter of newborn kittens.
From that day own, Socks became Holly' leading man, companion, and child all in one. Having something to take care of gave her the smallest sense of independence and pride, even if Socks could jump out the window every day and survive as a street cat (not that he ever would).
Beneath her hand, his dark body vibrated as the cat purred and scratched behind Socks' ears tenderly, just as a series of sharp raps sounded through the door.
Immediately, Holly jumped up, squeezing the cat so tight he screeched and leaped from her arms with his tail upright. Tuning and staring at the door, she reached for the handgun sitting beside her (which she now kept closer than ever) and walking across the room slowly, making for the front door.
"Who is it?" She called out, hoping it wouldn't be the terror of a landlady Holly knew she would have problems with in the future.
There was no answer, and Holly hesitated, pulling back the hammer of the gun. With shaky hands, she walked slowly to the door, standing on her toes and inhaling before attempting to glance through the peephole which had been blocked off by something, more than likely a hand.
Unlocking the door slowly, Holly opened it a crack and peered out to find herself staring into the icy blue eyes of the man she had seen earlier when moving in. What had his name been? Carlyle? Caleb? Something she couldn't remember, but as she glanced into his icy eyes her heart was filled with a mild unease.
"Is there something you need?" she asked cautiously as the red-headed man glared at her.
He said nothing, only remained stony-faced before launching a full assault against the door, kicking it open so that Holly was sent flying back. For a moment she froze in confusion then managed to throw her weight onto it just as he stuck one leg in the door. Pressing it against him harshly she smashed his leg between the door as hard as possible, watching as he grunted and winced, trying to wedge his tiny frame from the trap.
"I'm don't have any money now go or I'll call the cops!" she hissed, but the man only grunted as he tried to free himself, causing Holly to open the door slightly, allowing herself only the slightest remorse. Immediately, she found this to be a mistake as the man once again tried to make his way in, and this time lunged with teeth bared as Holly slammed the door when he was more than halfway in.
"Who told you?!" he growled in a low voice and Holly glanced back at the dark apartment, wondering what weapons she could improvise with. A frying pan, of course. And there were knives.
"I told you I don't have anything!" she exclaimed.
"WHO?!" he then barked, eyes bulging and Holly used everything she could, letting out a loud scream as she slammed her body into his own, sending both of them out into the hall then drew her gun, aiming it carefully.
"Look I don't know who you are or what you want but I've had enough of people's shit. Come back in my apartment and I'll shoot." She spat in a mixture of fury, fright, and surprise. Suddenly, rage, which should have been playing a part all along took over and Holly found herself willing and ready to defend herself. She wouldn't be the pitiful damsel anymore. Rorschach wouldn't be here to save her anymore, now, it was time to fend for herself.
The man said nothing, and Holly retreated into her apartment, never turning her back before slamming the door shut. She made a mental note to put more locks on the door and quickly set to the task of moving things in front of the door, making a small barricade as she wondered how many other robbers and rapists lived around her.
Lighting a candle, she took a seat back on the floor and grabbed her backpack, pulling out her journal which sat near the surface.
June 25th, 1982
I think I've decided. I can't do it any longer. Some crazed asshole just tried to break in, asking me how I knew about something. Probably strung out on drugs, I know it too well. And he smelled like he hadn't bathed in months. I knew when I saw this place it wouldn't be good, but what other option have I got? Everything extra went into that security deposit which is gone. I have to quit the orchestra.
I'm going to go home. I'll call my aunt, tell her I need some help. Get some money for a flight and be all set. I promised I'd never go back and now I'm running there. But what choice do I have? Wait to get attacked again by someone else this time? I pissed off a lot of people. Got an innocent guy killed. It's not safe here anymore, not in a place where I'm so vulnerable.
Two times, Rorschach was there to save me. The man they call the most dangerous person in the city, and it was he who saved my life. Who knows, maybe he is a crazy killer. But I'll always be grateful for what he did. Even if it was sparing my shitty existence. He's probably out right now, patrolling the streets and giving some other guys the business, and I hope he keeps at it. This city is swimming with vermin that must be eradicated.
I've never been this alone in my life. I'm supposed to go back to work in two days. No way in hell that's going to happen. How can I go about selling people coffee when any one of them could be the next to follow me home and try and end my life? I'm afraid. I'm weak. I'm pathetic. Every noise I hear I'm certain it's someone coming to avenge Danny. He was the only one I had to protect me. Funny how that turned out.
It's just me and the cat. I'll have to leave him behind, unless I can give him to my sister. She's always wanted a pet. For now, I'll take the pills and I'll sleep. Sleep until this life is over and I can awaken for the next.
