Author's Note: Laurie's "Not-Silk-Spectre" name (not mentioning it here, if you don't know it already, you will read about it in this chapter) came from the character she was based off of, the Charlton Comics character that Alan Moore initially intended to write about (for those who don't know, he changed the characters around and wrote what we now know as Watchmen, instead). I just wanted to make the note just in case there was someone out there who thought I came up with her name out of the blue. :)
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Ch. 4
Even before they were near the doors Rorschach knew they were dead inside. That cold familiar air of death permeated thickly around the building and for a moment he contemplated turning the girl back away from it. No, it was a learning experience. If she wanted to be a mask, she had to see the face of the city. He walked inside, letting her follow closely behind him. She gasped and stopped in her tracks, momentarily stunned.
Two dead, three fingers with an unidentified owner. Rorschach noted that the fingers belonged to a left hand. Blood was everywhere, as if someone got bored after a shoot-out and finished it with a pig wrestling competition. Crates were smashed, and Rorschach found what looked like a poor attempt to start a fire. He shook his head. Amateurs. Probably a turf war over the illegal substances.
"What do you think happened?" the girl whispered, as she stepped gingerly around the pools of blood. With the amount there was, it was a helpless attempt.
"Rival gang."
Rorschach surveyed the crates, or what remained of them. Whoever it was had taken the offending crate with them. Judging by the corpses, they were there only minutes before. He made a frustrated sound and left the building.
"How many gangs are there?" she asked.
Rorschach looked at her. Stupid question. He almost asked her if she could count how many cockroaches there were in the city. No, she was just naive.
"Numerous."
The girl sighed and looked disappointed, somehow. Probably wanted a fight.
"Okay, fine," she said, half to herself. She looked up. "So, what's your name? I mean, your costume name, of course."
"Rorschach."
He waited for her to introduce herself and she looked down. Did she not have a name yet? And she was out fighting crime? Women. So careless. On second glance, she actually seemed embarrassed.
"Uhm... Nightshade," she said, looking at him almost apologetically.
"More drugs," he joked to ease her discomfort. She didn't get the joke.
"I don't do drugs," she exclaimed, arms folded over her chest. Women weren't known for their senses of humor.
He shrugged. There were more important things to discuss. Such as her motivations, her reasons for doing this work. He couldn't formulate the right words in his head so he gave up on that too. He heard something in the distance. Approaching tires. He motioned for her then crept into the shadows. She was obedient, at least.
The car, a black limousine, appeared around the corner only seconds later. It parked on the curb and an armed man got out, went inside the warehouse, and appeared after a few moments and re-entered the car. The car pulled away and Rorschach noted the license plate. The warehouse was burning in a matter of minutes. The warehouse didn't matter anymore, though. Rorschach directed the girl away from the fire as he led them into the back streets.
"What do you think that was about?" asked Nightshade.
Rorschach shrugged. It didn't matter because they would find out later. What mattered right now was finding the right person to answer their questions. They walked in silence and he let her go with him. Seeing the young girl wandering around the streets late at night made him nervous, and right now he couldn't afford to be in two places at once. It was better to keep her within reach for his peace of mind at least. They walked five blocks to the nearest bar. He started to go inside and she was right behind him. He stopped and shook his head.
"Underage. Can't go in," he told her.
"Seriously?" she sighed. "I'm not about to start on a drinking binge in there."
"Too young."
She folded her arms.
"With us dressed like this, I doubt the first thing they're going to ask is for my identification."
She had a point, still distasteful, though. He disliked arguing for the sake of argument so he allowed her inside. A few people looked up.
"May I help you?" asked the bartender.
Rorschach quickly scanned the interior. Nobody he needed was inside. He turned and walked out and went to the bar across the street. Nobody there either.
"So, I guess you're over eighteen then?" asked Nightshade with a strange smirk as they left their fourth bar.
Rorschach paused for a moment.
"Not going to bars to drink," he told her.
"Under eighteen?"
"Irrelevant."
She sighed.
Three more bars, and he found him. A man with three missing fingers from his left hand nursing a glass of some sort of hard liquor. Neither the man, nor the other patrons or bartender have a chance to react as Rorschach swooped down and grabbed him roughly by the neck and threw him out the door. Rorschach followed swiftly and Nightshade ran after him, eyes wide but smiling in disbelief.
"Owoahhh...what the fuck!" screamed the man.
"Warehouse," said Rorschach.
The man's eyes widened.
"Here... look, listen I... don't know anything, okay? I, augh--!" he grimaced when Rorschach stepped on his injured hand.
"Will step harder," Rorschach told him. "Answer who and why."
"I don't know... don't know..." said the man, face streaming with tears. "They just came in out of nowhere, start shooting the place up. I just ran as soon as they burst in, okay? I... they shot at me, figured I was a dead man anyway, I think, since they hit... Didn't know they just busted my hand, that's all!"
"Hrm."
"Please, I don't know who they are, I just did what I was hired for, delivered goods. That's it!"
"Hired?"
"Yes, yes--just some guy at the docks--Hersch, don't know anything besides his name. He just wanted me to deliver some crates, I don't know what was in them or what they were for or nothing, I swear. Please!"
Rorschach let up and left the sobbing man where he was on the ground. He turned to find Nightshade sitting demurely on the steps of the bar with her hands in her lap. He growled at her a little and gestured to her with his hand. She stood up, looking bewildered.
"What? I thought you could handle it."
"Not intimidating."
She smiled.
"You mean you weren't doing enough of a job?"
Rorschach shook his head.
"Need to keep watch."
She frowned as if she just recalled something distressing.
"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."
Rorschach shook his head and mentioned nothing more of the subject. If she did it again he would have to reprimand her.
"Listen, I..." Nightshade trailed off. "I guess this is a bad time to discuss it, but I wanted to know what you thought of...you know...teaming up?"
"No."
"Can't you even consider it for a moment?"
Rorschach didn't reply, merely steered them towards the direction of the docks. He was surprised that the man had mentioned them. He knew very well that the Comedian patrolled those areas and kept them quite clean. Still, sometimes trash went unnoticed, especially when it looked recyclable. The pair continued in silence, Rorschach contemplative and Nightshade sullen. Overhead, a huge aircraft loomed over them. It passed by, then made a quick turn and hovered a few feet off the ground. Two figures emerged from the bottom of the craft, leaping out in a fantastic display of gymnastics that did not impress Rorschach. He knew who they were.
Nightshade gasped.
"Is that.. Ozymandias?" she asked him.
Indeed it was. And his new partner, Nite Owl II. The two men approached them, looking quite friendly and open. Rorschach thought they were foolish. What if he and Nightshade had been scum disguised as heroes, waiting to ambush them?
"Greetings," said Ozymandias, as soon as they were within hearing. "Imagine my surprise to find another pair of costumed vigilantes such as ourselves."
"Uh... yes," Nightshade said awkwardly once it became apparent that Rorschach would remain silent.
"I am Ozymandias."
"Nite Owl II," said the other man.
"Err, Nightshade and Rorschach." Nightshade realized Ozymandias was holding his hand out to shake, but seeing as Rorschach made no movement to take it, she followed his example and folded her arms instead.
"Might I ask if you are patrolling or on a mission?" asked Ozymandias, pleasantly, despite being ignored.
"Just patrolling," said Nightshade. "Nothing special."
"You must think we're rude," laughed Ozymandias. "My apologies. We merely wanted to propose the idea of joining forces together. What say you -- would you care to join us? You may even come with us if you wish to see how we work before you make your minds up."
"We're currently looking for the Twilight Lady," Nite Owl II added. Nightshade felt relieved.
"Oh good, you do that," she told him. "We're not into that sort of thing."
Rorschach coughed once. Nite Owl II seemed not to get Nightshade's meaning, though Ozymandias smiled.
"Very well," said Ozymandias after an awkward pause. "If you have a change of heart, we can be reached at this frequency."
Ozymandias handed Nightshade a card and turned away with his cape swirling dramatically behind him. Nite Owl II waved and followed suit, though not as gracefully. The pair disappeared into the craft as quickly as they appeared and soon the craft was gone from sight, then from sound, then no traces remained of it.
"They have their own frequency?" said Nightshade in disbelief as she turned to Rorschach. He shrugged.
"Priveleged," he said.
"Oh, well. I'm glad they're not looking into the same thing we are."
"Why?"
"They might take the credit for everything if they solve this thing before us."
"What does it matter? Scum punished. Same thing."
"No--not the same thing if the newspapers talk about them, and not us."
Rorschach turned, bristling a little.
"Is that why you do this? Fame?"
"No," she laughed. "Heck no. That's the last thing I need."
"Then?"
"I just want to be in the paper. Once. Just once--big enough to have a picture."
"Why?"
"So my mother would find out about it."
"Why not tell her?"
"No, no... It's not the same. She needs to find out from an alternate source."
Strange. Very strange girl. Rorschach was intrigued. He turned and began to walk again. She quickly followed, looking back up at her into the sky.
"They won't follow us," he assured her. She turned and laughed.
"Yeah...I'm sorry, I guess I'm just used to dealing with you," she said, smiling. "Still, those guys were weird, weren't they?"
"Ozymandias. Yes. Possibly homosexual."
Nightshade's eyes opened wide and she laughed again.
"Wow--..." she shook her head. "Wow. What does that say about the guy who hangs out with him?"
He shrugged.
"Just working together."
"I know," she sighed. "I was just joking."
"Ah." he turned to her. "What will happen to your article if turns out Twilight Lady behind our case?"
"What?" she looked shocked. "No, that's weird. What would she be doing smuggling drugs? How would that work?"
"She can hide them in vice grip."
"Okay, now you're just mocking me." She laughed, nevertheless.
"Nite Owl II seems to have personal interest."
"Oh?" Nightshade looked interested. "So you're saying they will be out of our hair for a while, at least?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Nightshade stopped after a moment, and Rorschach looked at her questioningly. Nightshade looked back at him to speak.
"Hey, wait a minute... Back there, did you say... our case?"
Rorschach resumed walking.
"Yes."
"Does that mean..."
"This case. Just this case."
Nightshade threw up her hands, but she was grinning when she ran to catch up with him.
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To be continued...