NOTE: This chapter requires the song "Percussion Gun" by White Rabbits for the protest scene (you'll know what I'm talking about when you get there ;) ).

21. Back in the Swing of Things (Of Course Our Usual is a Little Unusual, Wouldn't You Say?)

Rylie

Now that Walter is back, things have sped up incredibly. I never realized how nice it was to have a professional vigilante to train me until I was without one. And so, Jimmy, Damien, Eddie and I all progress with Walter's help much more than without him.

Of course, it is incredibly hard work, too. Suddenly, "go outside and play" took on a whole new meaning.

The first day back on our regular training schedule, I meet Walter at Wendy's so that we can write out notes and, afterward, he can hitch a ride with me and my mom to our house. Walking up to the fast food restaurant, I spot him from the outside through the window. He is bent over the table, looking as though he is deep in writing, oblivious to everyone else and I smile, filled with a sudden warmth. After spending almost two days thinking he was dead, I've obtained a whole new appreciation for his life.

Not only that, but a fierce sense of pride settles over me upon seeing him. He is my partner, I think smugly, unable to erase the grin from my face, even when I walk inside and head over to his table.

He looks up at me and raises an eyebrow. "Why are you smiling?" he asks after a moment.

I blink, startled. "No reason," I lie quickly and sit down across from him. "So. How's the head?" I ask him, examining the wound on his temple.

He shrugs, returning to the notes he's writing. "It's okay. Doesn't hurt as much," he answers nonchalantly.

I pause for a minute, pursing my lips and wondering if I should tell him about the recent news I've heard. "So...you heard about the latest government scandal?" I inquire after a moment.

Walter looks up at me, narrowing his eyes. "What?" he growls.

"Hm, well, apparently, the government is sending in undercover agents to infiltrate gangs expose truthers, then get them thrown in jail so that they have an excuse to chip them," I tell him slowly.

He blinks. "Chip them?" he repeats flatly, his eyes dark and dangerous-looking. Not for the first time, I'm glad he's my partner and not my enemy.

"Yes. I mean, they've been chipping things- and some people- for a while now, so it normally wouldn't be a big deal except these chips are...new. Once they're in a person's body, they work with the electrical activity in the brain to read minds. Of course, they already have mind reading technology, which makes us thought criminals...but the external mind reading technology isn't as effective as the internal mind reading chips," I explain.

"Wait, wait, wait," Walter interrupts, holding up his hands. "What do you mean they've been chipping things for a while now?"

"Well, they put chips in barcodes to keep tabs on what people buy. Like, say someone was buying things to make a bomb. They could look back and flag that person according to their purchases," I say and then roll my eyes. "Course, they don't ever do that. They don't use it to catch actualterrorists, they use it to corner truthers."

"They chip everything?"

I shrug. "I'm not sure. I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if they did, but I don't have all the details. But, yeah, so, anyway, they're trying to chip truthers to read their minds. Yeah. Happy stuff," I finish, raising my eyebrows and nodding.

Walter snorts. "Yeah. Real happy. Next thing you know, they'll have the technology to control minds," he mutters.

"Oh, they do," I reply in a cavalier tone.

Walter stops, looking up at me. "What?"

I nod. "Yep. They don't do it through chips, though, they do it through electronic harrassment."

"What is that?"

"Well, I don't know all of the mechanics behind it, but, basically what they do is send out a focused frequency to put voices into their mark's head, and just mess with them to make them seem crazy," I explain. "And the thing is, even if the mark knew what was happening to them, people are so disinformed these days that they would think they were insane anyway if they said anything. It's a double-edged sword."

Walter's lips curl in disbelief and disgust. "They have got their hooks in so deep," he mutters.

"Yeah, they do," I admit. "But it doesn't matter." He looks up, confused, and I shrug. "If they chip me, they chip me, but they will never control me," I elaborate.

Walter stares at me for a moment and then chuckles. I smile, warmed by the sound.

When we get to my house I call Eddie, and by the time my mom has dinner ready he, Jimmy, and Damien have arrived. After a quick meal, we all head out to the shop to do some boxing. I'm proud to say that I'm the farthest along so far besides Jimmy, but that's just because he's boxed before.

"Man, Rylie, soon as you're ready, you and I should spar," he says that night. "I'm a southpaw, so it should be interesting," he adds, winking at me.

I stare at him blankly. "O-kay...I have no idea what that is," I reply and immediately look to Walter questioningly.

"Southpaw is a boxer with a dominant left hand," he murmurs quietly, without looking up from wrapping his hands.

"Oh." I look down at my fists. "So what do they call right-handed boxers?" I inquire curiously.

"Orthodox," he answers immediately.

I make a face. "Orthodox?" I repeat and he finally looks up, raising an eyebrow. "That's a boring name. I don't want to be orthodox," I complain.

Walter shrugs. "So become left-handed," he replies and then smirks at me.

I scowl at him. "Well, what are you?" I demand.

"I am whatever I want to be," he replies steadily and starts going after the heavy bag.

"What, so you're, like, ambidextrous?" Walter dips his head once, never breaking concentration, glaring at the punching bag like it's an actual enemy. I grimace. "I worry about the way you train sometimes," I mutter.

"Well, would you prefer I baby you so you're unprepared when you head out on patrol your first time?" he counters.

I glare at him. "No! I'm just saying you're a bit..." I trail off, searching for the right word, but then finding myself distracted by the way he moves, so sure and confident, the muscles in his arms rolling with each punch... "Intense," I finally finish, looking away and shaking my head. "And besides, we're not arguing about my training, we're arguing about my title."

"Well, what would you prefer to be called?" Walter asks impatiently.

I think about it for a moment. "Not orthodox," I finally decide and he gives me a "oh-really?" look. "Well, I don't know! Something cool like southpaw!"

"What about northpaw?" Damien suggests.

"Oh, how original," Eddie mutters, rolling his eyes.

I nod frantically, ignoring him. "That's tight! Northpaw! I love it!" I reply enthusiastically.

"Northpaw isn't an actual name-"

"Shut up, Walter! Can't I just, for once, have a dream that you don't step all over?" I interrupt.

He rolls his eyes, but I think I can see a hint of a smile on his face. "Whatever, Northpaw."

"Whatever, Brick Wall."

Of course, since the school year is drawing to a close, the amount of homework on my plate has nearly doubled. And since I'd already had a lot to begin with...

My schedule is in complete disarray, and it's mainly because of my training. And it's irritating because Walter refuses to help me with anything else unless it directly involves training me to be a vigilante.

I think Walter won't help me with my schedule because he's still irritated at me for insisting on training at all. It's his way of saying "I told you so", his form of punishment without verbalizing that it's punishment. Whenever I complain that I hadn't gone to sleep until two or three in the morning, he basically tells me to suck it up. He'll tell me he has fuzzy memories of having a job and going to work practically a zombie because he would work eight to five, sleep for four hours, then head out on patrol. I will protest and tell him he hadn't had homework to deal with. And he'll say: "Well, you should've thought of that before training to be a vigilante."

However, as the week progresses, I can see that all my hard work is paying off. And not just as far as my fighting abilities are concerned. I'm growing closer to Walter, too. Or, at least, I feel like we're growing closer. I can't speak for him. And I think he's getting used to my friends, too. Well, Jimmy and Damien, at least. Him and Eddie...there's still an undercurrent of tension between them. Even when they joke around. Like, on Friday night, when they both were over late at my house.

We were up in my room, my ipod playing softly in the background, and I was working on finishing an essay for history class. Walter was sitting on my bed and Eddie was sitting next to me, proof-reading the essay over my shoulder as I wrote. Finally, I sat up, flexing my aching fingers and stretching.

"Ugh, dammit, I hate homework!" I complain, groaning.

"I know," Eddie replies sympathetically, massaging my shoulders.

"Well, when work feels overwhelming, just remember that one day you're going to die," Walter says, shrugging. Eddie and I swing around to look at him in disbelief. He looks back up at us and raises an eyebrow questioningly. "What?"

"...Wow, you are just so damn cheerful it's sickening!" Eddie exclaims sarcastically.

Walter narrows his eyes. "You don't keep me around to be cheerful," he responds sternly.

Eddie snorts. "If it were up to me, you wouldn't be around at all," he mutters.

I gape at him. "Eddie!" I exclaim, punching his shoulder. "Behave!"

He rolls his eyes, rubbing his arm, but nods. "Yeah, okay," he agrees reluctantly, but not before throwing Walter one more glare.

Little confrontations like that have been happening a lot lately, and I'm kind of getting sick of it but I don't really know how to stop it, mainly just because I have no idea why the antagonism is there at all. It's so hard to pick out the true reason behind it because it's always hidden behind veiled threats and false friendliness.

But that's not my only problem, and it's certainly not my biggest. Lately, more and more so-called "gang terrorists" have been found and arrested, not just in Lawrence but around the country. The news reports that the "terrorists" are violent and unpredictable, spouting "un-American, terroristic" hatred toward the government. And what this really means is that the government is capturing more and more truthers and silencing them.

It's horrible and unfair... "...And there's got to be something we can do about it!" I fume one rainy April evening, pacing back and forth in the small family room. Walter has already left and it's just me, Eddie, Jimmy, and Damien.

Eddie, sitting at the computer, swivels around in his chair to face me. "Got anything in mind?" he inquires, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, no, but..."

"Okay, guys, c'mon. Even if we did have a plan, we're just kids! What difference could we make?" Jimmy interrupts.

"Jimmy-jam, we're almost legally adults. And besides, you don't need to be old to change the world," Eddie replies.

Jimmy rolls his eyes. "Alright, fine. Got any plans, Mr. Know-it-all?"

Eddie pauses. "...Well, no. But that doesn't mean we can't come up with something," he responds defensively.

And that's when I think of something, almost as though it was sent to me. "Wait, guys!" I exclaim. "I think I have an idea!"

Eddie raises an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Are you sure it's not gonna end up like last Christmas when you-"

"Eh, no, no, no, no, let's not talk about that," I interrupt quickly, glaring furiously at him. He just grins his two-dimpled grin at me mischievously and I roll my eyes. "No, I have a legitamite idea and I think it will actually work. But we need Walter..."

~r.~

"Hello, Cadence," Walter greets me softly, sitting down at my table across from me. I've asked him to meet me and Eddie here at Dunkin Donuts to discuss what I simply left as "important matters".

I break into a huge, sunny grin. "Hey, Walter!" I greet him excitedly. "Thanks for meeting me here."

Walter shrugs. "No problem. What's so important?" he asks and then raises an eyebrow. "I guess it must not be too horrible because you're starting the resemble the Cheshire Cat."

I quickly change my smile into a serious frown and his lips twitch in amusement. "Okay, Eddie should be here in a few minutes and he will want food so I might as well get it now. What do you want?" I inquire, deliberately ignoring his question. I don't really want to tell Walter of our plan until Eddie arrives.

"Oh, I'm fine-"

"No, no, no, no," I interrupt. "You're not gonna pull this crap on me again. Now. What do you want?" I repeat. "Donut? Muffin? Bagel? Coffee?" I continue, spouting suggestions like machine gun fire.

Walter cracks a full-blown smile and I have to smile back.

"Hey. Lovebirds," comes a voice from beside us. We both jump, startled, and turn to see Eddie watching us with his eyebrows raised. There is a disapproving gleam in his eye but when he speaks his tone is teasing. "Is this a bad time?"

I roll my eyes at him as Walter sits back in his chair, looking irritated and uncomfortable. "Well, Mr. Come-in-late-and-annoy-the-two-people-who-could-kick-his-ass, it's about time you got here," I reply.

Eddie smiles at me but his expression is a warning. I narrow my eyes, confused and irritated. The irritation grows when Eddie and Walter both glare at each other but don't speak. Before the tense silence can stretch on any longer, I sigh loudly and motion to the front counter. "Kay, well, can you guys tell me what you want so I can buy it and we can get down to business?" I mutter flatly.

"No, no, no. I'll get it," Eddie argues and then aims a pointed look at Walter. "I have the money."

Walter bristles, drawing himself to full height in his chair. But before he can speak, I am on my feet between them, glaring at Eddie. "No. I'll get it. Just tell me what you frickin' want," I growl.

After a few moments, Eddie and Walter both grudgingly relax, deflating visibly. Once they tell me what they want I march up to the front counter. "Goddamn testosterone," I mutter, which is the only way I can explain their territorial attitude.

When I return, Walter and Eddie are both sitting at the table, deliberately facing away from each other and glaring in opposite directions. Rolling my eyes, I slam the food down on the table and sit down between them, folding my arms across my chest and giving them both my stern, "you-both-are-naughty-children" look. Walter looks back at me challengingly but Eddie sighs and forces a smile. I don't smile back.

"Alright. So what is this important business?" Walter inquires after a moment, quietly sipping his coffee.

Taking a deep breath to clear my chest of the remainder of my anger, I launch into my plan. "Okay, you know how the police have been cracking down on truthers, right?" Walter nods so I continue. "Well, we came up with a plan to show the people of this city, and hopefully of this country, that they are trying to silence the truth instead of cutting down on crime."

Walter raises an eyebrow. "Alright. What's your plan?"

"Well, first...can you promise that you'll help us?" I ask hopefully.

Walter stares at me for a moment and then shakes his head. My heart drops for a fraction of a second before he speaks. "Cadence, do you really think I'm going to let you run off with one of your crazy ideas and not be there to bail you out when it fails?" he says, and though his voice is joking his expression is softly serious.

I smile at him, relieved. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I mean, you're just such a straight-up stud it would be stupid to do this without you," I reply.

Walter chuckles and nods, but before he can say anything Eddie interrupts. "Okay, okay. Can we get back to business?" he asks. I marvel at how he can sound so impatient and yet keep his tone so cordial.

"Keep your pants on, Edward," I mutter, rolling my eyes and returning to my plan. "We want to protest outside of the police station to lure the cops out," I tell Walter.

"A peaceful one," Eddie clarifies.

I nod. "Yes, we need to make sure that it's peaceful and that people see it's peaceful."

Walter narrows his eyes. "Why?"

"Well, right now isn't the time for violence. First we must demonstrate a peaceful resistance to show people that we're not volatile or crazy or radicals, and that will hopefully convince them to join us. And, also, if the cops attack us it will make them look bad and people will see that the cops are the enemy," I explain.

Walter nods, looking thoughtful. "Alright. But why do you need me?"

I shrug. "Well, first of all, I would want you there with us anyway. But one specific reason is that we need you to find those truthers that rescued you the night you came back. Can you?"

"I should be able to. I know where they took me anyway," he replies.

"Alright, cool. And then the other reason is that, if things do get nasty, we need you to come sweeping in like the superhero you are to save the day," I finish.

"But I thought you wanted this to be peaceful," he protests.

"We do. But, with the way things have been going lately, it probably won't be," Eddie answers before I can. "And if the cops do attack, we probably won't be able to stand up against them because they will have guns, tasers, whatever they need to control the situation. So we need someone like you, who's had experience fighting cops, to step in and help us."

"Yeah, and, even though that's technically violence, I don't think people who see it will think of it that way," I add. "Because, if things go according to plan, they will see us as the victims and they will see you as the hero. And, hopefully, that will make them okay with vigilantes and truthers and the like."

Walter raises his eyebrows, surprised, and leans back in his chair. "I am impressed. Who's idea was this?" he asks.

"Mine," I answer proudly.

"Oh, God..." Walter mutters immediately.

I glare at him. "What?" I demand.

"Well, if you planned it then something is bound to go wrong..."

"Hey!" I exclaim indignantly. "What do you take me for, an idiot?"

Walter smiles back at me in response. "Not always."

I roll my eyes. "Don't be such a smartass. It'll work, I promise."

"And if it doesn't?"

I hesitate. "Well, then, I guess...we all go to jail together," I respond and then shrug. "But, hey, if we aren't going to jail then where are we going?"

Walter stares at me for a moment and then snorts. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised by that statement," he mutters and I laugh.

~r.~

We chose to enact our demonstration on Saturday. I told Jimmy and Damien to pick up Walter and drive him out to my house at noon so that we could prepare for the protest.

When they arrive, I greet them brightly at the door. "Hello, people. You guys hungry?" I ask, holding open the door for them.

"Ugh, yes, you have no idea!" Jimmy complains loudly, collapsing into a chair at the table.

I laugh, raising an eyebrow. "Is Damien starving you again?"

"Yes, please save me! He's keeping me trapped in his closet as his sex slave!" Jimmy exclaims. Walter looks sharply at Jimmy, who looks back at him challengingly. "What?"

"That's inappropriate," Walter answers bluntly.

"And there's no possible way you're still in any closet," I add, stirring the Ramen noodles simmering on the stove.

"Okay, first of all, it's not my problem you're such a prude," Jimmy says, pointing a finger at Walter. "And, second of all," he continues, turning on me. "...You're right."

I laugh, nodding. "So are you," I reply. "Walter is a prude." Jimmy and I laugh together. Damien grins at us from where he is leaning against the wall.

"Will you two stop laughing at my expense?" Walter growls, scowling at us.

Jimmy, still laughing, quickly replies, "No! You're my new form of entertainment."

"I thought Damien was your entertainment."

"Cadence!"

"Okay, okay! Prude," I mutter, pouring the Ramen into a large bowl and carrying it to the table. "Alright, guys, I made plenty so just scoop out what you want and dig in."

"Jesus!" Jimmy exclaims, eyes wide as he looks into the bowl. "Why'd you make so much?"

"Easy," I answer, pouring out a little into a smaller bowl for myself. "Walter's a fatty."

After lunch, Jimmy and Damien head up to my room to make picket signs while Walter and I head out to the garage for some last minute training.

"When you get out there, you need to remember that those cops are not going to fight fair, and if you have to fight, you can't fight fair, either," Walter tells me as we square off.

"Okay, but I don't want to fight unless I absolutely have to," I reply, putting my fists up and preparing for Walter to begin.

But he stops and stands up straight again, staring at me seriously. "Cadence, if push comes to shove I want you to fight," he says.

I blink at him. "But...why? I told you, I want this to be a peaceful protest!"

"Yes, and you also told me that we'll fight when we have to," Walter replies stubbornly. "Cadence, you could easily get killed if you give them the chance. Don't give them that chance." With that, his fist darted out and I barely had time to swerve and avoid it. Drawing back his arm, he glared at me meaningfully. "If you don't promise to protect yourself I won't let you go at all," he growls, lashing out at me again.

I duck to avoid a fist in the face and then gape at him when I rise back up. "Let me go?" I repeat incredulously. "This was my idea!" With that, I strike out at him and we start to dance around each other, sparring lightly. It takes a while- we take turns feinting and exchanging, falling back and advancing- but Walter finally grabs my wrist, swings me around and pulls my arm tightly behind my back.

I let out a high-pitched gasp of pain as he twists my arm at an awkward angle. "Promise you'll fight if you have to, and I'll let you go to the demonstration," he murmurs temptingly in my ear.

I try to twist my head around to glare at him. "You don't tell me what to do- AAachkk!" I yelp as he jars my arm up even further into my back. Pain shoots up my arm and I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth.

"Promise me," Walter repeats harshly, his breath hot in my ear.

"Oh...okay! I promise!" I relent reluctantly. Walter smirks triumphantly and shoves me away. Gripping my arm in my other hand, I stretch it to get out the kinks and glare at him. "Why can't you ever coerce me into agreeing to something without hurting me?" He just chuckles and we return to our training.

After about a half an hour, Damien leans in the door. "Hey, Eddie just called. Our protestors are gathering near the police station right now so we should probably hit the road," he tells us.

"Okay. Thanks, Damien," I reply, wiping the sweat from my forehead with a small hand towel. "C'mon, Walter. Let's kick it."

"Kick what?" Walter replies and then gives me a lopsided smirk.

I roll my eyes and shove him as we step into the living room. "Smartass," I mutter. Walter shoves me back, but of course when he shoves I go stumbling forward and stub my toe on the side of the couch. "Oh, fuck!" I hiss under my breath as my toe throbs with pain. I take a moment to lean against the wall and let the pain subside, and as I do I take the time to wonder why the smallest things seem to hurt so damn much.

"Rylie?" my mom calls from the kitchen. "Do you need a ride into town?"

Unable to speak, I shake my head. At my side, Walter leans down and murmurs in my ear, "She can't hear you shake your head, Rylie."

I whip my head up to glare at him furiously and then, in a high-pitched, off-key voice, I holler, "No." Walter laughs lightly and I reach over to punch him in the arm.

"Come on, you two, you can flirt later!" Jimmy hollers, grabbing my hand as he races past us and dragging me out to Damien's truck.

"Jimmy!" I exclaim, giving him an incredulous, "I-can't-believe-you-just-said-that" look.

He just looks at me and rolls his eyes. "Oh, c'mon, Rylie, everyone can see that you love-"

"Don't even say it!"

"What? I was just gonna say that you love ice cream," Jimmy replies innocently, shoving himself into the truck and then giving me a much-too-sweet-to-be-innocent grin. I glare at him dangerously but get in after him without saying another word. Once we're all in the car, Damien pulls out of the driveway and we're on our way, singing loudly to Muse's "Uprising".

When we arrive downtown, a few blocks from the police station, Walter helps Jimmy and Damien unload the signs while I pull out my phone and call Eddie. He picks up on the first ring. "Yo, Rylie. You guys here?"

"Yeah, we're a few blocks down. How are things going?" I reply.

"Good. We're just getting organized. Man, after I mentioned Walter those gang kids just came pouring out of the woodwork," Eddie tells me.

I blink, feeling a wave of panic flutter in my chest. "You mentioned him by name?" I question, horrified.

"No! What do you take me for, a moron? No, I just described him to that Rob guy your boy mentioned and they jumped on this idea."

I sigh, relieved. Nothing would be worse than revealing Walter's identity. "Okay. I'm gonna send Jimmy and Damien over first with the signs and then you call me when you're ready."

"Kay. See you soon."

"Yep."

After we hang up, I turn to the guys. "Okay, I want you two to go ahead of us," I say, pointing at Jimmy and Damien.

"Kay. See you guys there," Damien agrees, nodding to us, and then heading out.

Briskly, I turn to Walter and he looks back at me in confusion. "What?" he says.

"Hold on a sec," I reply and reach into Damien's truck. "I made this last night. It's not really anything special, but if you're gonna swoop in and save the day, it would be best to hide your identity," I explain and hold out a small leather half-mask. It's one of the ones that only covers the top half of the face. When I'd bought it, it had just been a plain, glossy black. Last night, I had painted a white inkblot pattern across its entire length.

Walter takes it and looks at it for a few moments, and then he raises his head and looks at me. "Thank you," he murmurs quietly.

I shrug, looking away awkwardly. "It's not as cool as your actual mask but it'll do," I insist.

But Walter shakes his head. "No. It's beautiful," he tells me. Glancing up, I realize that Walter is watching me with a peculiar expression- it is one I can't place and one that makes me feel hot and light on my toes.

But, not a half second later, my phone rings, making us both jump. I quickly dig it out of my pocket and flip it open. "Hello?" I manage to say in an airy voice.

"It's time. Operation 'this-will-most-likely-end-badly' is a go," Eddie says, sounding proud of himself.

"Kay, we'll be right there," I reply, hang up, and then turn on my heel to face Walter while skillfully avoiding looking straight at him. "C'mon, let's go."

So we run, keeping pace with each other until we reach the alley leading to the police station. I pull to a halt, peeking out at the protestors who've already gathered and started yelling, calling out the police officers. "Okay, you wait here and watch to see if anything gets out of hand," I tell Walter.

He nods. "And you fight if you have to," he replies.

Rolling my eyes, I emerge from the alley to join the group. Eddie greets me immediately, grinning from ear to ear and holding up a sign that says "WE ARE NOT YOUR PRISONERS!"

"Isn't this awesome?" he says, his bright blue eyes seeking mine. I gratefully sink into the soft, familiar folds of my affection for him, still reeling from the almost overwhelming emotions from before with Walter. This is safe, this is home.

"Yeah, it's great," I agree, smiling back at him and then looking around at the people surrounding us. "And you got so many people to come," I add, pleasantly surprised.

"Told you they were comin' outta the woodwork," Eddie says, handing me a sign.

"You did tell them that we're going to try to make this as peaceful as possible, right?" I clarify, thrusting the sign proudly into the air.

"Yes."

"And you told them that if push comes to shove, they should run unless they absolutely have to fight?"

"Yes."

"And you told them-"

"Rylie!" Eddie cuts me off and shakes his head at me. "Trust me, honey bunches of oats. When have I ever let you down?"

I snort. "Plenty of times," I reply and Eddie laughs. "And I am not your oat bunch!" I snap in a quiet aside, pretending to be irritated.

It doesn't take long for the cops to come out and want us gone. At first it's just three officers, trying to push us back. "You all need to leave," one of them says.

"Why? We're just exercisin' our First Amendment rights, man," one of the protestors up front replies.

"You're making a scene," the cop continues, still trying to force us back.

Curious bystanders have started to gather on the sidewalks around us, watching, and a fierce satisfaction has me grinning smugly at one of the cops. He stares back at me for a moment before he starts to come over. Yeah, come over here, ya motherfucker, I dare you! I think feverishly. A red haze has washed over my sight and all thoughts of a peaceful protest have pretty much disappeared from my mind. I want to fight.

But just before he reaches me, Eddie steps between us. Fury burns in my chest. Move! I want to scream but I stop myself just in time.

"You all need to go home now," the cop tells him.

"Read the sign, buddy. You can't control us," Eddie replies steadily.

The police officer just curls his lip in a tiny sneer and flashes his badge. "I'm sorry, but this badge here says I can."

"You're badge doesn't mean anything. You're just a bully in a suit," Eddie responds, and though I'm still irritated with him, I'm also so proud of him.

The cop draws himself up to his full height, the smirk disappearing. "Give me your sign and get down on the ground," he growls.

Eddie snorts contemptuously. "No, you can't tell me what to do, cocksucker, remember?"

"Watch your language. Get down on the ground!" the cop barks in reply. More cops have begun to converge around us, and I can feel it again- the red wave of heat that encourages me to fight. The air is combustible, I can feel it closing in, a choking yet strangely freeing pressure.

And then, so quickly I barely have time to register it, a spark flashes and the whole situation erupts in flames.

One of the cops drags a protestor out of the group and slams him into the pavement. Almost in the same instant, the cop next to Eddie grabs his arm and tries to pull him away, too.

"No!" I scream and lunge toward them, prepared to do anything necessary to help him. And that's when a blurred form slams into the cop, knocking him away from Eddie and I. I gasp, stumbling backward in shock, though in retrospect I know I shouldn't have been surprised.

Around us, the group has started to break apart, and though I want them to stay I know it's better for the plan if they don't.

Once they're over their initial surprise, the cops start to converge on Walter, who has just beaten the everlivin' out of our officer. Standing, he takes a moment to glare at me and Eddie. "Get out of here!" he snaps and then returns his attention to the police.

I gape at him. I thought you wanted me to fight if I had to! I want to shout, but instead I just exchange a glance with Eddie. His eyes mirror mine, his posture resolute, and we agree with simply a nod.

Walter has begun his fight with the cops, and though he is holding his own (and it's amazing to see him in action), he is already badly outnumbered. Quickly, I raise my sign high above my head and ram the end of it into one of the officers' necks. Then, wasting no time, I kick out strongly at the inside of his knee. He collapses instantly and I kick out again, this time swinging my entire body around and catching his jaw with my heel. And silently I thank Walter for forcing us to endure the "log training" to perfect our balance because, though I wobble slightly from the impact of that kick, I don't fall.

A few feet away, Eddie brings his arm back, catching an officer's cheek with his elbow and then, bringing it back again, catches the officer's nose with his fist. Jimmy and Damien have joined us, and several of the other protestors. All around us, horrified spectators stand frozen, watching. Some are filming the scene with their phones. Good, I think gratefully. More people will see this.

For a little while, it almost appears as though we have the upper hand. And then, out of nowhere, the suits appear. My heart nearly stops in my chest. My mind fills with panic and the first person I search for amid the chaos is Walter. I can't let them get him.

Immediately, Eddie is at my side, his eyes dark. "We've got to leave," he says.

I look back at him with wide, panicked eyes. "We can't leave without Walter!" I protest.

Eddie narrows his eyes but doesn't speak, just looks around quickly, pulling me tightly against him and shielding me with his body. After a few heartbeats, he points into the thick of the crowd and shouts, "There! I see him!" Grabbing my hand, he plunges into the chaos, towing me with him. When we reach Walter, we have to help Jimmy and Damien pull two officers off of him, and in my head I am thanking God that we arrived in time to help.

"C'mon, guys, let's make some tracks and get out of here," Eddie growls and we all turn to leave.

But as we're running, I get separated from the pack in the midst of the scattering protestors. A suit falls onto a man right at my feet and I'm forced to skid to a halt. Across from me, Walter has noticed I'm not with them and he turns. Somehow, in the middle of everything, our eyes meet for a fraction of a second...and it's as though I've stepped into the eye of the storm. All of my panic and supercharged energy falls away, bleeds out of me, leaving behind only a cool, silent calm. In Walter's eyes, everything is okay.

This happens in the span of a single heartbeat. In my peripheral vision, I see an officer leaping for me. Below me, the suit has finished with his victim and is reaching for me. My eyes find Walter's again and I gather myself. I only have one shot at this and the time is now.

He reaches for me at the same time I leap for him. My body twirls like a dart between the officer flying just inches above me and the suit grabbing at me from below. For an instant, I'm not sure if I'll make it...

And then Walter's hands touch mine and I hurtle into the protective curl of his body. Neither of us waste any time. Walter pulls me to my feet and I grip his hand tightly and we all escape back the way we came.

Rorschach

Manhattan! I call in my head, pacing furiously back and forth in the center of the warehouse.

Yes, Walter? The reply comes immediately, no hesitation. He expected it. My lip curls.

The suits, I bark. How do they keep finding me?

Are you referring to the confrontation today? Manhattan inquires calmly.

Yes, I reply, and even though it's in my mind I make sure it sounds like I'm speaking through my teeth.

They didn't know it was you today, he says. They were just called in to help the police control the situation while they're in Kansas.

I blink, brought up short. What do you mean "while they're still in Kansas"?

They're only in Kansas because you are there.

I clench my teeth and flex my fingers, itching to punch something. Why can't he just be direct with me? Okay, but that doesn't answer my original question, I growl impatiently.

How do they keep finding you, you mean?

I have to wait ten seconds before I reply to keep myself from screaming. Yes, I hiss.

They were originally alerted to your presence when I transported you there after your inception, but they ignored it because they thought it might just be a fluke. And then I sent you the grappling hook gun and it was too much of a coincidence for them to ignore. So Adrian had suits sent here to keep tabs on my energy transfer, Manhattan explains.

I take a moment to process this and then blink in confusion. Why didn't they pick up your notes then? Won't anything you send show up on their radar? I ask.

A note is not complex. A gun is, he replies simply.

But you can dismantle guns with your mind! So it must not be terribly complex, I argue stubbornly.

That doesn't mean it won't show up on their radar. I can also create living, breathing human life as well as dismantling guns, he reminds me in a voice that's almost stern. Both are more complex than a note.

I scowl, not appreciating his attempt to make me feel inferior. Fine. Then why did you transport me at all if I was complex enough to show on their radar? Don't you understand how dangerous that is for my friends? I demand, letting rage color every undertone of my thoughts.

Because I can't come down there myself. And I knew you needed to go, Manhattan replies steadily.

Why can't you come down here yourself? I challenge him. For a moment, I wonder if he's just too much of a coward to face the world he once turned his back on.

They watch for me specifically, he answers. It doesn't make as much noise on their radar if I send someone else.

But now they know where I am! Wasn't the whole point of my not walking around in costume all the time to remain inconspicuous?

Soon that time will pass, and then you can embrace Rorschach. But until then, just remain as invisible as you can. And don't worry about Cadence. She will be fine, he adds softly.

I glare down at my feet but the anger has softened just slightly. It's not just her I worry about, I growl.

But she is the one you would die for.

For a moment, I have no idea how to respond to that and I just stand there, silent. I remember how, when I'd seen her standing there in the middle of the fight, something inside of my had almost broken. If she had been captured or hurt or...killed... Well, in any case, I had been unable to care about myself after that. My fate hadn't mattered. But if anything happened to Cadence, nothing would make sense.

But now it's over and you can get over it, Rorschach snaps inside of me, making me jump. I'd almost forgotten the beast sitting in my chest.

Eventually, when I'm able to gather my thoughts again, I kick a piece of cement so hard it almost goes crashing out the window, glaring at nothing in particular. And then I mutter, I would die for almost anyone if there was a need to. It's part of my job description.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Wow, okay, sorry about the long chapter, I just couldn't help cramming a bunch of words into one document :P But I guess it's okay because I'll be leaving for Colorado tomorrow and I won't be able to update until next week at some point so I guess this'll give you guys something to chew on for a while. Hurm...well, suppose that's it. See you in a week! Please review, they make me happy!