A/N: Sorry for the wait, been very busy both at home and abroad... Watchmen was the shit, plain and simple. Rorschach won't be as loved as Heath's Joker but still, how you can argue with him? Just indescribable... just like this chapter. The wait definitely was worth it. It was hard to get this chapter rolling but it sets up the rest of the mythos from here on out. Although it might feel rushed, imagine the circumstances it occurs under. Details to be revealed, of course, so don't bitch if you didn't get "everything you wanted to know", you'll get what you "need to know" as the arc continues!

The Watchman III

---

You know, sometimes I often wondered... Just how bad could life really get? Every time I see something horrible, something comes along that just makes that tragedy seem like a really, really bad comedy. They say whatever doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, right? After that day, you might as well give the devil his due. I became stronger all right... but for everything gained, something has to be lost. And for me, I lost the one thing I still had a fragile hold on in this world...

---

Gotham City International, perhaps one of the most busiest sections in the entire Gotham region. Planes by the dozens lift off into the air or land hard against paved asphalt with the regularity of a human heartbeat. In and out, nothing special, nothing out of the ordinary. Not even the "private" hangars across the tarmacs seem out of place. Even as little trucks and mechanic vehicles pass by, towing engine parts or luggage to their destinations, not a single sight seems out of the ordinary. But to the untrained eye, this place has more ominous sights to behold than jet planes flying off towards a blood-red moon.

As Gar and Scarecrow arrive to the gates leading to the private hangar area, the all-too familiar sight of a struggle enters their view. Guard post empty, wooden road-block burst through with splinters remaining for evidence. Though illuminated by yellow lights above, not a single human shadow can be seen outside of the two men's own.

"Something's wrong." Gar admits at the sight, hands in his pockets but eyes anything but idle.

"I suppose it doesn't take a professor to come to that conclusion." Scarecrow sarcastically answers, rolling his "eyes" at the announcement.

"Its not the obvious, Crane. Someone came through here in a hurry. But how come no one's raising a fuss about it?" Eyebrow raised, Gar motions to the lack of security personnel around the area. Surely someone would've noticed by now.

"You mean the lack of alarm at a possible break-in? Got your drift, was just toying with you."

Casting a glance at Scarecrow, Gar asks "Guess it's too much to ask if you're getting a bad feeling about this too?"

A quick chuckle through the mask "Is that fear I detect in your voice, Watchman?"

"Fear can help keep you alive, Scarecrow." The point is further emphasized when Gar admits "But it can also lead you into trouble."

"I wouldn't know." The retort, though sarcastic, has the intended effect of bringing a brief grin to Gar's face.

---

Walking across the tarmac, towards the long line of hangars, Gar's suspicious inclinations only increase as their approach is continually ignored. Surely the sight of two VERY out of place, unauthorized persons walking through private property, would be considered illegal at best. And yet, on this brisk Gotham night, not a single alarm or guard seem to be watching or warning of their approach.

"I don't like this."

"Your fear might actually be justified this time." Scarecrow replies, noticing Watchman's eyes darting across the range of his visual sight. "Surely by now someone would have reported our intrusion."

Neverminding the sound of powerful jet aircraft no less than a mile away, or the seemingly ceaseless humming of vehicles, the air does seem to contain a very eerie silence. Announcements in the distance seem calm, preplanned. Speaker chatter on the P.A. systems seem to indicate no sign of disturbance. Either there's been a gross malfunction of security systems or...

"Scarecrow? What are the odds that whoever's up ahead in that hangar's actually daring us to come?"

"What do you mean?"

FLICK, lighter flips on, its flame dancing in the wind. "One of the largest airports in the country, thousands of cameras and guards throughout the facility. One guard post is ruined, no one at their station, two very suspicious men walking freely on the terminal... Not ONE alarm."

"Perhaps. But that would imply the control tower is either suppressing our arrival..."

Lighter burns out, returning to a cold steel. "Or whoever ordered the hit on the Irishman is actually letting us cross the threshold."

"That implies someone of intelligence, Garfield. Still think I'm not the mastermind?"

Looking towards one of the hangars, Gar notices that its the only one with an open door with a light exiting. In the middle of an extremely lit complex, this light might not mean much. However, this late in the evening, one light in the middle of dozens of darkened hangars, that light might as well be a lighthouse on a midnight coast.

"No. Because this isn't scaring me, its just pissing me the fuck off."

Reaching the door, Scarecrow stops Gar for a moment before entering.

"Watchman, there's something I should warn you about." The voice is unsure, almost sympathetic in its tone but wary in its wording. "Before you enter, realize that Someone has made a LOT of enemies in this city."

"I figured that much." Glasses keeping the half-glare to a minimum, Gar's face reflects a measure of agitation.

"Beyond that door you could run into anyone.. from a guy with a gun to the Joker himself." Scarecrow continues. "If you're lucky, you won't need this." From his coat, he removes a small apparatus. Similar to the device used for the antidote to his anti-fear gas, its size betrays it's importance.

"I take it this is some form of your fear gas?" Gar inquires, frowning as Scarecrow extends the piece of plastic towards his own hand.

"A variation I've been saving for a rainy day. In case you haven't noticed, Gotham's sky is red for a reason. That's because in this city, it doesn't always rain water. Some nights it rains blood."

Taking the device, Gar counters "Always did wonder why the sky was red here. If we're lucky though, there won't be any blood tonight. I think this city's shed enough."

Turning towards the door, Watchman strides off to what might as well be considered the abyss, the great unknown. Beyond the well-lit entrance is a dark unknown that not even Scarecrow's macabre could describe.

Hence the bigger surprise that the Master of Fear doesn't follow Watchman into said light...

---

Door snapping shut behind him, Gar turns instinctively and barely catches the last glance of Scarecrow. White hand pulling the handle closed, sad grimace on the mask's face.

"That son of a bitch! I should've known he.."

That statement is silenced as Gar finally sees the interior of the hangar. The "light" was nothing more than a floodlight aimed at the then-opened doorway, enough to bring Gar's attention to this facility. Through his gaze he notices a trail of what appears to be red liquid on the floor, leading towards the darkened center of the building. Cautious, painstakingly wary, Gar steps into said darkness, past the illusion of light, towards the ominous unknown.

Bullet casings on the floor, scattered about in random patterns. A firefight? Most likely. Spend shells in this large quantity... automatic weaponry. Small casings, probably automatic pistol fire.

"I thought Someone preferred shotguns instead of pistols? Then again, he WAS acting.."

Dead body, black coat with dry blood pooled around it. Hangar glass above lets the moonlight shine on the body, gruesome details unfolding like a bad movie. Stains of old blood forming veins on the concrete and spreading in all directions, like rivers on a map... Cold face, eyes staring at the ceiling as though staring at the Reaper himself. Shot to the head, poor bastard didn't live long enough to feel the cold concrete. Deserving or not, Gar can still feel sympathy for the dead. To be shot is one thing, to be shot through the skull is another.

Rustling in the dark not brightened by the moon. A moan of pain, there's someone still alive?

Speak of the devil himself. Through the darkness, a body staggers forward with a pistol in hand. Clutching his side, head bent down, the voice strains as much as his body in its approach.

"Watchie?"

"Someone!" Gar shouts, moving towards the wounded Irishman. He's stopped, however, as Someone warns him not to advance.

"Garfiel, no!" Raising his head, pain etched in his brown eyes, teeth stained with his own blood, the man pleads "Git a'way... now... "

"What are you talking about? Who did this?"

"T'at bas'tard... Sain' Patrick, t'is t'ing cann'a b'real!" Taking another two steps, body lurching with each motion. Someone's eyes, glassy still, seems to swim in a sea of surrealness. Voice cracking, this could very well be the end.

"Someone, please! Tell me who did this! I can help you!" Gar's not one for pleading but at this very moment, the sight of his friend about to..

"Watchie..." Someone's face, gritting teeth at first, turns strangely serene and peaceful as he speaks softly. "Tell m'mackie I'm'a miss 'im. None a'us gonna live t'rough t'is... so he say. But ya... Do w'at y'must do!"

Blindingly, the lights above the center burst to action, filling the room with a painfully bright, white light. On the catwalk above the middle of the building, nearly ten men, armed with Tommies, click their guns into readiness and aim.

"NO!"

Smiling still, Someone closes his eyes as the bullets burst from their iron barrels. Round after deadly round blasts out from their cartridges, tearing into the Irishman's back, ejecting blood and fluids everywhere, including Gar's coat and face. Each shot forces his body to jerk and contort uncontrolled, frighteningly similar to a seizure or electrocution. This, however, might be immeasurably worse than either way to die.

After a painful eternity, in Gar's eyes, does the fire give way. Ammunition spent, the deed done, Someone finally falls to his knees, already long since dead.

Ignoring the shooters, believing they wouldn't shoot him yet if they didn't shoot him now, Gar rushes forward and brings Someone into an embrace. Voice shaking, he offers what appears to be a silent prayer for the fallen comrade.

"Why do you mourn for a criminal, Watchman?"

That voice... cold, hard, chilling in its delivery, without a single hint of warmth in its tone. An honest question, surely, but with the lack of an empathy expected in something robotic at best.

As the gunners depart, a towering figure starts to emerge from the darkness. Snapping his head up towards the walkway, Someone still in his grasp, Gar's glasses do little to hide the boiling rage in those emerald flames. Fangs barred prominently, vampiric in its nature as its owner's blood begins to speed up in his heart.

"I doubt you would ever shed a tear for me..." And finally, after all of this torment, the shadow gives way to the monster himself. Teeth grinding hard though part of his face appears pale, falsely-colored purple hair covering what could be described as a twisted visage of evil. Top hat tall, flowing cape shining pristinely in the radiance above.. but nothing compared to the dreadfully demonic, humorous gaze in the red eyes of the Ripper himself. "Would you, Garfield Logan?"

Rage giving way to horror, to sheer terror... How could he be here? How could Ripper do this? Why..... Why does this monster continue to..

With a thunderous laugh, Ripper's voice booms across the building "You should see your face, Watchman! I must say I haven't seen you look so alive in years! Tell me, did you REALLY think that I would've forgotten our little rivalry?"

"Its not possible..."

"Possible?!" Cane twirling in his hand, smacking hard on the ground so he can lean on the black stick, Ripper taunts. "Its not only possible, Watchman, its damn well inevitable! You couldn't kill me three years ago, could you? You may have stopped me but you can NEVER kill me!"

Feeling the body in his arms, Gar can feel the shock of the situation fading, giving way to the second in the chain of human emotion: Anger. But no, this anger isn't your everyday anger. With the blood of the Irish staining his own body, the smell of copper mixing with the truth of this reality. Someone wasn't a victim of a gangland retaliation, he wasn't a victim of revenge... He was used the same way that fake face of Raven on Ripper's face is for: To torture his soul just a little bit further until...

Inside his coat, the device Scarecrow had given him suddenly snaps to life, filling the air around him in a yellow haze. Coughing, Gar's unsure what's going on as he feels the chemicals enter his bloodstream..Eyes closing, head bowing, he can feel his essence vanishing to a different realm, not of humanity, but of the inner soul.

"What the hell is that?!" The sound of Ripper's cackling voice seems so distant as Gar's mind takes him to a darker part of his own brain. In the distance, he can see what was once Beast Boy and what could be considered the Beast.... But, if the Beast merged with Garfield in Africa, what is it he looks at now?
"Do w'at y'must do!" The echo of Someone's voice comes not from the darkness but from the Beast. At the sound, however, the Beast lurches forward, eyes burning, as it becomes absorbed into Gar's being.

Back in the hangar, Gar's eyes remain closed as the gas fades. Still clutching Someone's body, the look of grief on Gar's face turns to a smile, fang jutting from the upper lip.

"What did you do, boy? What sort of trickery is this?" Ripper demands, eyes losing their mirth.

"Trickery? You make it sound like I planned this..." Gar responds, sadness vanished into a form of irony. Not a pleasant irony either.

Snapping his fingers, Ripper orders the gunmen to the floor to surround Gar. If the dreadful little shit won't tell him willingly. Rushing to surround him, they raise their weapons at his body, forming a circle of ten men, each looking firm in their resolve to end this man's life on a moment's notice.

"I must admit..." Gar begins, not looking towards Ripper yet, but voice still filled with irony and mirth. "I didn't understand why the airport wasn't alerted to my presence." Standing up, Gar keeps his eyes closed but his smile widening. "I didn't understand why you would lure Someone and myself to this place. I didn't understand why Scarecrow would help you lead me here."

"Your babbling is becoming annoying, Watchman!" Ripper warns, aiming his cane at Gar's chest. "This is bigger than everything you imagined. This is only the BEGINNING of the end!"

With a bemused "hmm", Gar asks "And what end would that be?"

Face shifting from Raven back to the deformed corpse he previously acquired, Ripper answers simply "The end of the world you tried to maintain. What do you suppose Desade and his cronies are doing in Jump City as we speak? Even if I were to let you live, do you think you would make it back in time to save your little friends? The Titans, Slade's pathetic, tiny group, a broken Watchmen, a powerless Justice League.. NONE of you will stop what I have in store! Three years, Watchman, THREE YEARS I've been waiting! And now that you're all alone, without your worthless "team" to save you, I'm going to finally finish what I started over a decade ago!"

Eyes finally snapping open, its green fury matching a manic smile that would make even the Joker proud, Gar shouts back, "Well then, I'LL JUST HAVE TO KILL EVERY, SINGLE ONE OF YOU!"

Ripper finds himself suddenly recoiling at the sight. Hair long, waving with an ethereal energy, eyes glowing like a radioactive isotope of unknown origin.. This boy... this isn't the same...
"NO! This can't be! I won't let you do this!!" Ripper screams, firing a blade from his cane at Gar's head.

As the cane reaches Gar's face, however, Watchman's body explodes into a black mass of buzzing, swarming flies and bees. Filling the room like the plague, the gunmen and even Ripper find themselves watching in terrified awe as the insects suddenly move back to the floor, reforming into Gar's body next to the blade embedded in concrete.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Ripper..." Gar answers, voice very deep and primal. Thin slits of green light as Gar's vision narrows, looking at the gunmen staring in terror beside him. "But it looks as though you won't be the first person I kill."

One goon takes a step back, panic almost carved into his face like a statue of old. This fear, however, is anything but classic. Its far more primal than any antiquity. Fear of monsters, fear of the unknown.

As Ripper stares on in shock, Gar leaps over to the man, snapping his jaws around the man's throat..With a great howl of rage in his throat, Gar literally throws the man's body into the air, arching his body to toss him at Ripper's direction. Although not removing the man's skull, the action tears open his throat enough for a stream of blood to pour onto the men below the flying corpse.
"No... he can't.." Ripper mouths, unbelieving at the sight before him. This wasn't supposed to happen, not like this... Not this soon...

"I was just going to drag your broken body to the police..." Gar informs the room's occupants, laughing hysterically under those words. Eyes widening to excited, tiny pupils, Gar booms across the hollow room "BUT NOW I'LL JUST DELIVER YOU ALL IN PIECES!"

---

From Scarecrow's position outside, he can hear machine gun fire, men's screams, and the sound of what could only be described as pure hatred. Almost as though a lion, dragon, and tyrannosaur were unleashed at the same time... His jaw lowers at the sight as bullets break glass above the building, allowing the terrific screams and heart-chilling roars to become louder and more pronounced. Flashes from the muzzles begins to fade as Gar must be slaughtering them, killing each one pawn at a time until on the dark King remains.

Hand shaking on the wooden stick in his hand, a flood of dread fills his heart. Perhaps the feeling can be summed up in an ageless, yet ultimately true expression used often throughout history.

"What have I done?"

That question, and all that it implies, is shattered by the sound of police sirens approaching the hangar. Turning, Scarecrow's reverie is broken, bringing his senses up to speed enough to realize that retreat is better than defeat. Not to mention that the sheer size of the convoy suggests that Batman himself might not be too far behind...

---

Inside the hangar, after moments of brutal, intense violence, Gar finds himself standing in the middle of a massive pool of blood and broken bodies. Looking up at Ripper, blood covering his body from head to toe, his eyes remain wild and insane though his body heaves for oxygen. Black and purple coat now stained with the blood of his victims, Gar asks in a very dark, menacing tone.

"What will you do, Brain? Have you included this possibility into your plans, huh?! Are you not satisfied with what you have seen? TELL ME!! YOU BROUGHT THIS MONSTER OUT OF ME, YOU CREATED THIS BEAST STANDING IN FRONT OF THOSE EYES OF YOUR'S! TELL ME, ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!"

Ripper's answer is cut off by the sound of police sirens and a megaphone outside.

"This is the Gotham City Police Department. Watchman, we know you're in there! Release your hostages unharmed and come out with your hands up! Its all over, don't make this harder on yourself!"

The voice of Commissioner Gordon, Batman's closest ally on the Police, does little to sooth Gar's rage. It only seems to intensify as Ripper stares down with a grin on his own demented face.

"What will you do now? Will you kill them like a monster you claim to be? Will you surrender peacefully as Garfield Logan would?... Or will the Watchman finally do what only Scarecrow's drugs could make you do?"

Even now Ripper seems to enjoy taunting Watchman. The tables turned, the police warning of the impending raid. Framed, set up, no place left to go, no choice left. No compromise?
"You plan on taking down the entire system, don't you?"

Nodding with a smile of his own, Ripper answers "The League, these "villains", all will see the truth. They made us the way we are, just as they helped me make you the way YOU are."

Though his eyes still burn with flames, a knowing smile enters his face. Watchman's reply comes hauntingly cold "When will you move on Jump City?"

"You have twenty seconds, Watchman!"

"With you behind bars, I can move whenever I want. But I imagine the League or the Government won't let someone like you rot in prison for very long." Ripper concludes.

"Ten seconds!"

"I look forward to it. Next time we meet, I'll kill you. And when it comes time for that, it won't be because of Scarecrow's drugs."

"Until the next time then, Watchman!"

As the doors burst open with police activity, Ripper fades into the darkness above, vanishing from sight. Watchman turns to meet the police officers, his eyes fading back into normal, human-looking orbs. As they close in, his manic face returns to his normal appearance, although a new emotion floods his heart. Grief... with his body covered in blood, the police forcing him to the ground, realization sets in. Through screaming, not in resistance, but of remorse, a single voice echoes across the void in his own voice.

"What have I done?"

---

A/N2: It finally happened, Gar finally kills somebody. Granted it was under the effects of Scarecrow's gas but none the less, he now is blood-stained... and NO ONE guessed it would be because of Ripper's actions! I make one cool joke and everyone says "Mr. Freeze"... well Ripper has a bluish complexion as well as red eyes... Hehehe, I can't wait to see the reviews on that revelation.
Can't help but wonder though if Scarecrow helped, was forced to help, or did it as revenge against Ripper? Hmm..

Trivia:
- Garfield seems to be channeling Alucard here a bit. Considering that both have an animalistic approach to killing people, as well as a psychotic view of killing, it would only make sense in a small way. Call it a "Hellsing" spoof if you want but name ONE anime or cartoon that isn't, in one way, a spoof (or borrowed elements) from something else?

Rhetorical:
And you thought things were bad now? With Gar in police hands, there's only one building in Gotham can hold someone so criminally insane..