The dog took the beating without any attempt to escape or fight back. The girl was dead and in pieces that would fit in the furnace. Horror and rage propelled Rorschach straight into the man. Already too angry to be coherent, Grice spun from swinging at the dog in a vicious arc at the sudden intruder. Fists and the heavy cleaver swung through the air. Rorschach connected several times, but had to duck when the blade sliced at his face. Insane with wrath, Grice ignored the beating and threw himself into Rorschach, sending them both sprawling backwards.
Rorschach felt his back hit the floor, saw the blade rise over him, and at eye level, the traumatized face of the dog. It lunged forward at the same instant its owner did and bit Grice in the back of the knee. Grice screamed and swung the blade at the dog instead. The change in angle kept it from braining the poor beast but there was a thunk and a spray of blood. The dog let go and Grice lashed out with a kick that caught it in the throat.
There was a crackle and the background cry of 'NoNoNoNoNo' drowned out into static. Rorschach had assumed it was coming from inside his own head. In Grice's moment of distraction, Rorschach struck. Grice's jaw crunched into splinters and his bellowing fell into a gurgle. The next punch crushed his windpipe. The cleaver fell to the store with a clatter. Rorschach tore into him, wanting to leave nothing left of him. It was over too quickly. Grice was dead and Rorschach had to get up to face what was left of the child he had come to save.
The dog cowered over the pieces as if there was anything left to protect. Its eyes were wide and frightened. Blood ran down its drooping ears from the cut splitting its face in two. They stared at each other for a moment. They were both shaking and panting with horror at what they had both done.
Rorschach made a sound that he bit off before it became a word. The dog's ears perked anyway. Rorschach was about to turn away, disgusted with them both, when the dog slunk forward. Still on its belly, still the picture of mortified misery, it responded to the unspoken order and came to him. It left a red smear on the floor, more the girl's blood than its own.
"Why." Rorschach gritted out. There was nothing of a question in it.
"I dnskrrrsrrmaster," the collar hissed. It had been damaged when Grice had kicked the dog. "Nevrrrwhrrnted to be thrkkshhk. Ownnly wantedrrtrrrkrshhhay." The dog winced, maybe aware of how little sense that made. They looked at each other again for another long while, but this time the dog dropped its eyes to the floor. The smell of kerosene rose around them and Rorschach turned away to grip the box of matches in his pocket tighter. He stopped at the door. The dog hadn't moved.
"Well?" he asked.
"Bad," the collar said meekly. It fizzed and sparked and then forced out: "Dog." It blinked nervously at the matches, trembling, then sat up. Maybe it didn't want to face its doom on its belly.
"Come here." Rorschach's voice didn't sound like itself anymore. The dog looked at him and its tail wagged twice before it dropped its eyes back to the floor. "Come here!" This time it was a bark, edged with desperation. The dog jumped, hesitated, then got up.
"Now!" Rorschach heard himself snap. The dog came to him and he lit the match, throwing it in. The house went up in only a moment and Rorschach was walking away, not looking up. He was reeling. This had gone beyond his ability to cope with and some of it was stranger than he could comprehend without being sure he had lost his mind. There had to be some part of it that could be salvaged, something that wasn't just soul-killing tragedy.
The child had died alone and terrified. Her body was burned away into nothing and there wasn't anyway to fix that. The need to save something, to not have failed completely, made his breathing catch and rattle. A soft huff of breath reminded him that he wasn't alone. The dog was limping at his heels. The girl hadn't been alone either, he realized. At least until the end. The dog had been with her, talked to her, maybe played with her, if he had made that out correctly from the static. It snuck peeks at him as they went. He noticed, but didn't acknowledge it until a sound came from the smashed speaker.
"…shrshhk…" the collar said. He glanced down. The dog glanced up at him again. "Masshshkter."
It was Rorschach's turn to wince. He wasn't prepared to answer that, unwilling to accept or deny or even try to figure out for sure what the dog meant.
"I know who can fix that for you," he said. The dog's tail fanned the air gently one more time and they headed for the subway entrance.