so. short.

D:

Moloch was at Eddie's funeral. It's a mere hunch but what do I have to lose? It is early Friday, the 19th. Exactly one week since Eddie's plunge.

Moloch was there to see Eddie.

So I will go see Moloch.

The sign by Moloch's residence reminds me of Rorschach. ЯR. The locks jiggle and an eye peaks out cut in half by the chain. "H-Hello?"

"Hi. Mol-I mean. Mr. Jacobi?"

"Yes?"

The worn eye narrows but shows no aggression. "Hi. I'm Desdemona Blake. I'm-"

"Edward's niece."
"Right. I-"

He closes the door and more locks and chains clink and click. "Come in."

He holds open his door and I notice his hair is thinning over his pointed ears. His hands shake, his limbs are skeletal and his eyes are sinking back. He reminds me of mom.

"Thank you."

The early sun seeps in through the blinds as he offers me a drink or breakfast. "I actually had some questions."

"Seems a few people do. Rorschach was here last week."

Damn. He's ahead of me.

"Can you tell me what you told him?"

A bottle of Laetril is sitting on his counter.

"I'm sorry he's so rough."

"Not your apology to give dear."

"Just the same."

I was right about Ed and Moloch. So what is this list…and what did Janey and Moloch have in common. The sun catches the orange Laetril bottle and an idea hits me like a bomb.

"You have cancer?"

"Yes…"

I stand up and start ambulating around the kitchen, another habit I have when plotting. A timeline starts weaving and growing in my mind. 1971: Wally Weaver died of cancer. 1972: Allison Blake dies too.

I heard from an acquaintance with connections that Janey had it. Now Moloch.

"You said my uncle mentioned a list? With yours and Janey's names on it?"

"Yes, why?"

"I'm thinking that list was a list of people to infect…"

"With what?"

"Cancer."

I pick up some mail, Pyramid Transnational, until I realize I'm being nosey and put them down neatly. "Thank you for your time, Moloch." A bit of youth returns with the name and in a moment of weakness I pull him to me. The lack of muscle and meat makes him feel like a bundle of sticks in my arms. How Rorschach could toss this dying fellow around I'd never know. But for a moment I feel like I'm holding mom again and with that thought I wish I had Eddie's strong arms holding me. But Ed's not here and I am holding Moloch not mom.

"Thank you again."

As I go to leave he stops me while putting on his coat. "Would you join me for lunch?"

He takes me to a little café in an artsy part of town. Somewhere I don't get to visit as often as I like. He's lonely, been lonely for a long time. Just like us. The heroes. The good guys. The ones who made the sacrifice to protect society. The villains gave up everything just the same. The bad guys who were set to rip society apart. I think some where along the line the barrier was broken and the people of the country saw us as one in the same. I understand why that was. I understand because I am walking down the street with Moloch on my left. I played Cowboy he played Indian and no one is any the wiser to who is who. It's his turn to ask questions, mostly about me and Ed. He says he wishes he spent more time making a family than making enemies. I tell him that's something he and The Comedian have in common. We talk about anything and everything. The only type of careless seemingly endless conversation you can only have with a dying man. Across the street there is a G.W.A.R. sign hanging up. Gay Women Against Rape…I start to wonder about Beth. Two espressos and 3 pastry cakes later we're both laughing and Mr. Jacobi is doing his hand motion from when he was still Moloch. They look more like jazz hands to me. For a day I feel blithe. A rare occurrence but that only makes it all the sweeter.

"Do you ever miss being Moloch?"

"I miss the youth and the carelessness, the lack of fear of consequence. After a while it got out of hand. That's why most everyone quite. That and war. Even villains root for their country."