Author's Notes: Wow. Blah, it's been forever. Sorry about that guys. Thanks for your patience. And an incredibly grateful shout out to Fractaledsymmetry for the awesome and constant support in way of reviews. They are so appreciated.

Okay, this is Rorschach's opinion of Daniel's retirement and the mandate the Keene Act puts forward. He's none too happy about this, obviously.

31. Never!

"Archie's covered up because I'm not gonna need him anymore."

"…The Keene Act making costumed heroes illegal…"

"This… this is what the people want. We began this business to help them!"

"…Are forced to take off their masks and reveal their true identities…"

"...The vigilante known as 'Nite Owl', whose predecessor is Hollis Mason…"

"…Says he has agreed to retire, but will not reveal his true identity…"

"It's not even that big a compromise."

"We wish these people all the best for a normal life…"

"Think about it, you could come over during the day, we can do things normal friends do, I'll help you."

"I'll help you."

"Please, somebody help me!!"

Harvey Charles Furniss. Wanted multiple-rape suspect. Evaded the police capture for almost a year. His screams echoed in Rorschach's head and gave him a certain sense of satisfaction. He wouldn't be hiding anymore.

Hauling the blubbering man to his feet, Rorschach wrenched back his arm, relishing in the sounds, the brittle snap as bone crumbled under his grasp, the agonized screams of the man under his fingers, crying out in pain and anguish. And fear. Fear was the most important thing. Fear was what any animal understood. Fear was the only punishment the dog-faced creatures who dripped blood and vice and dishonesty could ever comprehend as they stalked the streets of a filthy, corrupted city. An appropriate hutch to trammel him in. Damned as he was, he'd already found hell.

As he kicked in the animal's back (not man's, he's given up all rights to be human), Furniss let out an awful scream. Rorschach snapped his neck. The screams stopped. As if monsters were allowed to scream. As if they had the right to express their pain.

If Rorschach couldn't scream, neither could they.

"I'll help you."

The keening noise that escaped his lips disturbed him, so he bit down on his lip as he pulled a page out of his journal. He might have broken skin that way, but his mouth was so full of blood, he didn't notice. Furniss' eyes were open, wide and fearful and full of blood. In the shadows, his head looked split right down the middle, and the cold sweat dripping from his brow mingled with the blood between his eyes.

Distantly, Rorschach wished it wasn't just an illusion.

He pulled out the stub of pencil and stared at the paper, suddenly feeling as though he was writing out his fate for the Final Judgment. Sealing it with lead on paper.

He wondered when he had gotten so morbid.

Voices swirled around his head. It was disquieting when they weren't screaming. The low murmurs were worse. They said things that cut like paper cuts, stinging and biting little things.

"You're Rorschach, right? I've heard of you."

Yes, the screams were infinitely better.

"If you want, you could join up with the other masks. We meet sometimes."

Rorschach bit down on his tongue as those disturbing keening noises escaped from his throat. It was distracting. It was painful. It was punishment for being so weak.

"We make great partners."

Rorschach dropped his pencil and rocked back on his heels, scrabbling at the skin of his face. He jerked it up high enough so that it wouldn't get dirty as he retched, saliva and acids hot and bitter rising up in his throat. His hands were trembling as they scrabbled at the concrete under his feet, grasping for the dropped pencil.

This was unacceptable.

Anger rose up in his gut as the saliva went down and he wasn't sure what to do with it. He only knew that he was wasting time here when he should be patrolling. When he should be doing his penance for his sins and failures. Even if he was the only one left.

"You know that even if this Crimebusters thing goes through, you're still my partner, right?"

With a snarl, Rorschach grabbed at the pencil and pulled it across the page. No more deliberation, no more consideration, no more waiting, waiting, waiting for someone who would never come again.

"I'm just trying to make sure you don't drift out of touch, y'know? Just trying to keep my friend."

There were lies on top of lies on top of half-truths on top of trust and Rorschach was sick of it. Baring his teeth, he shoved the note into his pocket and hauled up the dead man to his feet. They were only men when they were dead. And the weight of one dead man was nothing when compared against ten years of lies. Everyone lies. Everyone is guilty. There were no good men. There never were. The only good men were dead men.

"Let me help you."

Rorschach laid the note on the dead man's chest and stepped back into the shadows. In the darkness, the lies were bearable.

"NEVER."

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A/N: Whoo. Poor Rorschach. Though, I must say, it was almost morbidly fun to get back in his head (or at least try). ALSO ALSO: holy crap, someone drew art for meee~!

Here's the link: http:// rhaeii.

Spaced because is touchy. XD It's still a WIP, but go there and tell this wonderful lady how wonderful she is anyways!!!