Ch. 30

Rorschach and Nightshade made their way down to the factory district. They had narrowed down the possible locations of Underboss' hideout to one factory building with Nite Owl II, but for some reason Nite Owl II had not turned up that evening. They had waited for over half an hour for him to show up, but he never did. Rorschach thought this was strange, considering that they were supposed to investigate their major lead that night, but on the other hand, he didn't really care if Nite Owl II was there. He was more concerned about how troubled Nightshade seemed.

"What's wrong?" he asked her, finally.

Nightshade looked at him, surprised, as if she hadn't been obvious at all and that he had instead read her mind, somehow.

"Oh," she said, shaking her head. "Just thinking about my mother."

Rorschach grunted. He certainly didn't want to think about her mother right now. He was still sore from the showdown at dinner the night before.

"I just wish she would like you," Nightshade explained. "I don't know, maybe if she just met you out of costume..."

Rorschach laughed at that. Nightshade gave him a bewildered look.

"Your mother would hate me even more out of costume," he explained to her.

"I can't imagine that." Nightshade shook her head and looked away.

Rorschach studied her profile thoughtfully. He wanted to explain to her, but it didn't seem right, somehow. If she wanted to believe that her mother would like a working class son of a prostitute with social issues that made Dan look like the crown prince of England, then he would let her believe that. No need to dampen her hopes, no matter how ridiculous. Still, looking at it this way, he couldn't help but feel pleased. Seeing as how Sally detested him, he wouldn't have to do anything but continue to court her daughter in order to annoy the hell out of her.

The factory buildings were closed down for the night and stretched out into the darkness before them. Nightshade was struggling to look at a map that she had drawn out of the area. Rorschach placed his hand over hers and shook his head. He had memorized the route, and he led them in through the path that stretched out toward stark buildings. Some buildings even looked like they were built during the turn of the century. When they approached the factory building that they had been searching for it appeared to be just as deserted as the rest of the buildings in the area. Rorschach wondered if they had come across another dead lead. He and Nightshade stood and watched for any signs of activity for a long while before Rorschach finally leaned over to Nightshade.

"I'll go to the back and search the area," he whispered to her.

Nightshade nodded and he could barely see it. Why on earth was it so hard to see? Briefly he worried leaving her here by herself in the darkness, but he shrugged it off. She could take care of herself, even if one could barely tell what was going on around oneself. That meant their enemies would have equal difficulty spotting them in return.

Unless, of course, they had Nite Owl II's goggles. Rorschach crept to the back of the factory building as he disturbed himself by imagining Nite Owl II as some twisted villain who watched them as he lured them to their deaths.

Rorschach almost laughed. Nite Owl II as a villain was a thoroughly ridiculous idea, even after considering his aversion for the man.

Rorschach hit the mother lode of criminality when he reached the back area. There were dozens of men patrolling, moving crates and socializing, some checking clipboards, others just keeping watch. Rorschach was an ambitious man, but even he wasn't about to go running into that one. He decided to return to the front of the building and tell Nightshade. At first, he couldn't find her. Was he looking in the wrong spot? Rorschach looked around him. In the darkness he thought he saw some strange patterns on the ground. With the lack of light the patterns just looked like greater black against lesser, but Rorschach knew better and went still as he realized what he was seeing.

Rorschach followed the patterns which led him into the building. He heard a man muttering to himself somewhere beyond the doorway. Rorschach went inside, and what had appeared to be dark patches outside now revealed themselves to be blood in the dim light. Rorschach had to keep from retching as fear rose up in his throat and stuck there. In the hall, he could finally distinguish some of the muttered speech.

"Damn heavy bitch, aren't you?"

Rorschach looked up and followed the voice as he heard a soft thud. He rounded the corner and saw first Nightshade, on the floor and barely conscious. A big man was standing over her, drawing from a whisky bottle before setting it aside. He bent down and touched her face and Rorschach made his way over to him. The man might draw the alarm if he saw him, but it didn't matter. He had seen the way he was touching her, and he knew what he was getting to. The man had barely started to unbutton her pants when Rorschach was on top of him.

The man tried to cry out, but Rorschach grabbed the whisky bottle and in one swift move broke it and forced the shards of glass into his mouth to silence him as he took him by the hair and threw him against the wall. Then Rorschach braced himself on the man's torso and punched him with such force that spittle, blood, and vomit sprayed out from the man's mouth. Rorschach left him face down in a pool of his own body fluids and hoped that he would drown. He started to go to Nightshade, but he thought better of it, stepped across her and looked around the corner instead. The hall was empty. It seemed nobody had heard them, and if they had, they didn't seem to have cared.

Rorschach crouched over Nightshade and touched her forehead gingerly. For a moment he was sure that she was dead, and the room started to turn red around him. Then he saw the faint pulse in her throat. The man seemed to have managed to tear out the button near her collar. Feeling cold with rage, Rorschach searched her. It seemed the man hadn't touched her otherwise -- Rorschach had thankfully not been gone that long. However, on closer inspection, he realized the blood that had created a trail for him to follow had been coming from a cut in her side. He pulled the fabric of her shirt aside to inspect it. She had been stabbed, probably by a hunting knife. When his fingers grazed her wound, Nightshade moaned as her eyes started to flutter open.

"Wha..I...elp," she was muttering incoherently, and her head fell to her shoulder as she struggled a little.

Rorschach searched her scalp and found more blood on the back of it, but thankfully, this blood was already starting to dry. Rorschach pulled the scarf away from his throat and pressed it to the wound on Nightshade's side. He secured it with the belt from his jacket. Grimacing to himself, he apologized quietly to Nightshade as he stooped down to put one arm around her shoulders and the other beneath her thighs as he picked her up. They were far from any hospital in this area, and Rorschach was worried that she would bleed out by the time he reached one. Stepping as quickly as he could through the pathway that led away from the industrial areas and out into the main streets, Rorschach searched for anything that could help. Reaching a phone booth, Rorschach cursed silently as he set Nightshade down for a moment and went inside. He searched the phone book, hoping that Blake's number was in it. It was.

Rorschach searched his pockets for a coin and luckily found several. He dialed the number and hoped that Blake hadn't decided to go out that night.

"Hello?" asked Blake, after the second ring. For a moment Rorschach thought he was going to faint.

"Comedian," said Rorschach; in that instant he had forgotten his name.

"Rorschach? What the hell's wrong?" Blake asked, already sounding alarmed.

"Nightshade should go to the hospital," he told him, "19435 Haldwell Avenue."

"Be there."

Blake had already hung up. Roschach realized just then that he could have called an emergency dispatch and almost did that as well, but decided after a moment that they wouldn't come out here. Not many ventured out into the worse areas of the city, no matter what happened. It took Blake twenty minutes to get there, but to Rorschach, it was forever. Blake finally drove up in a car and Rorschach approached with Nightshade, who was already back in his arms again.

"What took you so long?" he asked Blake, as the older man got out of the car.

"Had to get the car from Hollis," said Blake. "What happened?"

"Stabbed, possibly concussed."

"Get in."

Rorschach almost snarled at Blake, but he decided against it. He had already been halfway in -- Blake didn't need to tell him these things. He placed Nightshade in the back and climbed in behind her and closed the door. Blake sped out into the darkness without a word. They reached a hospital in five minutes -- not because it was close, but because Blake was going at a crazy speed. Even going seventy miles per hour in a residential area, the cops didn't stop them. Probably because there weren't any around.

Blake maneuvered the car through the emergency zone of the hospital and jumped out without bothering with the parking break. Rorschach started to get out as well, when Blake stopped him.

"What kind of ass are you going to look going in dressed like that? You stay here," he told him.

Rorschach had to stop himself from attacking Blake. Instead, he hesitated for just a few seconds before he took off his hat, mask, and jacket. Now he looked like just another man in a suit. Blake didn't even bat an eye.

"Come on then," Blake told him, as he led the way to the emergency room. Blake was smart enough to take off Nightshade's own mask before they went inside.

A nurse was walking by as they entered and her eyes widened as she looked down at their feet. She called for a gurney and took Nightshade away. Walter realized that Nightshade had started to bleed again from the stress of being carried. His right hand was covered in blood, and more had pooled down at his feet where he had been standing with her in his arms. He looked at Blake, who appeared drawn and pale.

Blake made his way to the waiting area and sat himself down. Walter followed him and sat down next to him.

"I think she'll be okay," said Blake, more to himself than to Walter.

"Yes," Walter agreed, also more for his benefit than to answer Blake.

Blake turned his head to look at him. Walter saw this in his peripheral vision but finally turned to look at Blake as well when he didn't look away.

"Hmm," said Blake. "You're a little older looking than I expected."

Walter frowned. All right, he was older than Laurie, but he wasn't middle-aged, or anything.

"How old are you?" Blake asked.

Walter didn't answer but gave him a cool stare instead. Blake laughed at that, surprisingly.

"You've got real attitude, kid, you know that?"

Walter didn't know whether to take that as a compliment and kept silent.

"You can tell a lot about a crime fighter outside of their costume," Blake observed. "Take Nite Owl II, for instance. In costume? Pretty impressive. Out of it? You kind of want to cringe away in embarrassment."

Walter nodded at him. Blake didn't even seem to be looking at him now. Probably talking to keep his head clear, Walter supposed.

"You look tough in costume," said Blake. "Look tough out of it too. Been through a lot, have you?"

"Yes," said Walter. He had almost said no, but he had no intentions of sounding cocky so gave in to affirmation.

Blake nodded vaguely. He still wasn't looking at him, and he seemed to be lost in thought.

"It's strange to think about all that's happened this past year," Blake told him after a short pause. "And it's even stranger to think that it's all because of you."

Walter turned his attention to a woman walking past with a young boy who had a broken arm. The boy was crying, and the mother looked worried and far more aged than she should have been.

"How did you ever find out about me and Sally, anyway?" asked Blake. "About me and Laurie?"

Walter shrugged.

"I just saw the three of you; guessed it." Walter turned and looked at him again.

"Is it that obvious, or are you just a shrewd bastard?" Blake was narrowing his eyes at him, but smiled and nodded to show he meant nothing harsh by it.

"Shrewd," nodded Walter. Blake laughed at that.

"You know," said Blake, frowning, "I suppose I should be calling Laurie's mother, but it seems pointless to, don't you think?"

Walter shrugged. He didn't know what the protocol was for things like this. It didn't help that Blake didn't really know either.

A doctor approached them to let them know that Laurie was still unconscious, but stabilized. Blake gave Walter a relieved look.

"I just wanted to know what happened," explained the doctor as he went through some papers on a clipboard. "Is there anything that needs to be filed in a police report?"

"They were mugged, that's all," said Blake. "The two of them were out and got attacked."

The doctor peered at Walter through his glasses.

"I'm surprised you hadn't tried to fight them off," he said, in a nasally voice that got on Walter's nerves.

"There were half a dozen of them," said Blake. "All wearing masks."

"I see." The doctor didn't really look like he believed Blake's story, but he also didn't seem to care all that much either. He wrote something in his papers and walked away without another word.

"I could have told him you or I did it and we would have gotten the same reaction," muttered Blake.

Walter gave him a wounded look, and Blake held up his hand.

"Hey, I'm not suggesting that you or I would do something like that. No broken hearts on sleeves."

"When can we see her?" Walter asked, changing the subject. He knew that Blake had no idea, but helped get the point across that he did not want to discuss Blake's theory.

"Who knows," Blake said, getting up. He walked to the front desk to talk to a nurse and Walter followed him closely behind. The nurse gave them a hard time, insisting that it was after visiting hours. Blake had to explain a few dozen times that they had come in through the emergency entrance -- this still was the emergency room, in fact. The nurse finally told them to wait another half hour while they made arrangements for them to see Laurie.

"Don't know what this world is coming to when you have to break your legs to get anywhere -- no wonder your mother drinks so much," Blake told Walter. Walter gave him a blank stare before Blake realized what he had said and laughed. "Yeesh, I don't know what I'm going on about -- thought for some reason you were my kid."

"That would be a rather disturbing revelation considering my circumstances with Laurie," Walter said quietly, though it warmed his heart to think that the older man viewed him as a son.

"Yeah, yeah..."

The two men looked at each other and smiled as if they had a great secret between them now. They waited out the rest of the half hour in a comfortable silence.

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To be continued...