Rorschach was breaking in to pawn shops.
Got lucky. Dumpster outside last victim's apartment contained box and receipt for new VCR, also missing from scene. Identified as belonging to victim by addresses on discarded mail. Now have serial number for one of the stolen items to search for. Pawn shops obvious place to start, murderer might even be stupid enough to leave his own info on paperwork. Not likely but possible. Otherwise proprietors might have a description. If the VCR was not to be found in pawnshops the swap meets would be next – Rorschach knew most of the electronics vendors, and they knew him well enough that most would not take much convincing to cough up any info. Fast work, Rorschach hoped.
Past midnight most pawnshops were closed, fortunately. Proprietors in this area were used to being robbed, tended to be tougher than most, more willing to defend themselves. Better to avoid them entirely, less collateral damage. He still had to contend with security measures -- most stores had bars on the windows and metal sheeting over the doors when closed up, so Rorschach resorted to picking locks, something he normally didn't bother with anymore. What were a few broken locks in a broken world? When he had first truly forced his way into a place, he'd hit the door far too hard, stumbled over the threshold from unexpected momentum, surprised at how flimsy the lock was. Most were. Polite requests not to enter, false illusions of security, like most things in this world. He felt a certain satisfaction every time he shattered one.
The flashlight beam played over cubbyholes filled with miscellaneous items, detritus of a desperately apathetic society, arranged in rough chronological order like so many layers of sediment. Despite questionable legitimacy of the trade the shops were orderly affairs and it was a simple matter to check the merchandise himself. Several VCRs were present, but none of the proper model, much less the serial number in question.
Ehh. Last of pawnshops in area, fruitless. Rorschach stifled the urge to slouch and instead returned to the street and headed resolutely towards Canarsie's flop house, the closest of the flea market vendors who usually dealt with electronics. Dawn threatened to steal his shadows and fatigue tried to drag his steps but now was not the time. Already two and a half days since the murder and a VCR could change hands fast on the street. It was still a few hours before neighborhoods he intended to visit would awaken. Rorschach drew strength from the feel of latex pressed against his lips, its silken texture whispering reminders of what he really was: Something that wouldn't ignore that there would be more victims in favor of paperwork, and who wouldn't be too late to save them because he'd already put in his hours. Something that recognized another who would not stop, recognized a thing that needed to be dealt with. Something beyond flesh and bone, terrible and true.
Rorschach tugged up his collar and pulled down his hat as he came to a more populated street. Despite his outlandish face, the clothes of his uniform blended in and no one but whores and panhandlers bothered to peer into the shadowy recesses, finding something other than the eye they hoped to catch.
On his trudge towards the junk dealers Rorschach's restless mind turned to Daniel like a tongue to a split lip, and for once Rorschach allowed it. What had been going on?? Daniel was predictable, irresolute even in his irresolution to crimefighting. Rorschach had expected Daniel's reluctance, a few futile quiet demurrals, but not the outright rejection he'd received at first. Rorschach had also not expected the hollow ache that filled his chest when he realized Daniel's refusal held an air of resolve. That he really had no partner anymore, not even a hesitant one. Rorschach had thought himself above such things, now, and he'd known Daniel was on the way out. Just… not yet. Not like this. The palm of his gloved hand resting on the cool metal door that would not open, locked down in the basement with discarded Night Owl II gear, hollow without Daniel to animate them, ears full of false excuses. The jilted twisting of his gut as he'd started down the concrete steps for the last time.
Then Daniel's sudden change of heart.
The first hints of welcome in Daniel's voice Rorschach had heard in a long time. He was attuned enough to Daniel that he picked it up even through the strange whispered voice and the muffling of heavy blankets. Daniel was hiding something, he'd realized, but contrary to popular opinion Rorschach knew when not to pry. He was a private person himself and could sense the difference between a guilty secret and an embarrassing one. He just hoped it wouldn't compromise Daniel's focus on the case. He had still felt confident in Daniel's abilities once goaded into action, but this new behavior baffled and troubled him. Could Daniel still be relied upon?
It was a relief to arrive at Canarsie's and start breaking things.
