�
The wooden floorboards were splintered and old, scraping, pinching, and digging sharply at his skin. He ignored the pain, welcomed it, even as he noticed little red spots beginning to stain the thin undershirt he wore.� �
He deserved this.�
�
He deserved worse than this.
�
Rorschach had thrown himself off the bed, not even allowing himself the miniscule comfort that the old, stiff, dilapidated mattress could provide.
�
He had barely slept or eaten in the days preceding his meeting with Daniel, and things had only gotten worse in the days following.
�
It made him nauseous to eat, to fuel the disgusting machine that his body was. And... At night, when he tried to sleep... At night all he could think about was /them/, either one a nightmarish memory. Different, but still horrible. Completely horrible.�
�
At night, H=he would close his eyes and those strong, but deceptively lotioned and manicured hands would be on him again, their matching cologne choking him in his sleep. He would wake suddenly, breaking out in a cold sweat and gasping for air, to find something even more disturbing poking from under the sheet. He would close his eyes again and he would be locked in warm embrace, a soft voice saying his name, a hand running through his hair, his dreaming mind taking the memory further than it went. He would wake to the same results.
�
Scum.
�
Rorschach shifted on the floor, wincing as he felt a particularly large splinter dig into his back.
�
Scum. He was scum. �
�
He sat up suddenly, he fists pounding the floor. ldquo;SCUM. THEYrsquo;RE ALL SCUM.rdquo;�
�
His roar was followed by the muffled complaints of the tenants below him. It was four in the morning. They were trying to sleep. They had small children.
�
ldquo;Scum,rdquo; he muttered under his breath.�
�
He was scum. Veidt was scum. Daniel was scum.
�
Daniel. Even /Daniel./ He had thought Daniel was a /good/ person. He had thought he could trust him, but Veidt was right. He was scum, and Daniel trusted him, and he trusted Daniel. And only scum could trust scum.
�
ldquo;Fuck. Fucking scum.rdquo; He fell back to lay on the floorboards again.
No sleep, no food. His head was throbbing with a headache that he had had so long he couldnrsquo;t remember what it was like to not constantly feel the painful muscle contractions around his skull. He massaged his temples for a moment, then stopped.�
�
Doesnrsquo;t matter. It doesnrsquo;t matter if his head hurts, if he canrsquo;t remember the last time he ate, if he canrsquo;t sleep at night. It doesnrsquo;t matter if hersquo;s scum.
�
As long as he continues to get rid of all the other scum in the world, it doesnrsquo;t matter. Regardless of /who/ that scum is.�
�
Veid and Daniel are both scum. He will get rid of them.�
�
It just doesnapos;t matter.�
�
He climbed to his feet, walking over to put on the suit jacket, scarf, and trenchcoat that had been piled on the only chair in the room. He pulled on the mask, then topped it with the fedora.
�
He climbed down the fire escape, the darkness of the nighttime streets consuming him.
�
It doesnrsquo;t matter. It never did, and never will.�
_______
�
Daniel awoke to a series of loud, obtrusive sounds. For several moments, he listened, lying perfectly still in the dark of the early morning. They were coming from the kitchen. Metallic sounds. Draws opening and shutting. Things getting knocked over. Footsteps.�
�
He leapt out of bed and quietly crept downstairs, noticing the noises getting softer, instead of louder, as he approached. When he reached the kitchen, he found that the intruder had heard him coming. Daniel stood at the foot of the stairs, the intruder less than two yards away, looking directly at him.
�
Danielrsquo;s jaw went slack for a second, his brow furrowing in confusion and shock.
�
ldquo;Rorschach?rdquo;
�
His partner stood at the entrance to his kitchen, which by what Daniel could see past him, was a complete wreck. All the draws and cabinets hung open, the floor was covered with dishes and foodstuffs, the table and chairs were flipped, many of the legs torn off. A mess.�
�
The man that stood in front of him was worse. Much worse. His partnerrsquo;s entire body seemed to be buzzing, like it couldnrsquo;t stay in place. The blurry lines the movement created made it look as if he didnrsquo;t belong in the space he occupied, as if he could suddenly disappear or fade. And his hands. His hands were actually shaking, and constantly fidgeting, moving, but still keeping a disconcertingly tight grip on the things they held. In one, an old, rusted crowbar. In the other, the largest kitchen knife Daniel owned, one of those expensive Asian ones that you had to buy a fancy sharpener for and everything.
�
Daniel, lost in a shocked and sleepy daze, ignored all of this, or at least couldnrsquo;t think about it right now.
�
All he could think about was Hamlet. Shakespearersquo;s Hamlet. He hadnrsquo;t read it since high school, or maybe early college, but he had retained a surprising amount of it. Parts of the story floated through his mind.
�
/Out of joint./
/The time is out of joint./
�
/The time is out of jointmdash;O curs�d spite,
That ever I was born to set it right/
After seeing the ghost again, thatrsquo;s what Hamlet says.
�
/To put an antic disposition on/
But we never really know whether hersquo;s just pretending or if hersquo;s actually crazy.
�
/O, what a noble mind is here oapos;erthrown/
But, unlike Hamlet, you never were the lsquo;glass of fashionrsquo; or lsquo;mold of form,rsquo; were you?�
And yet, it is still a great loss for the kingdom.
�
/O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain/
�
You only live for revenge.
�
ldquo;SCUM.rdquo;�
�
Daniel is torn from the daze by the raspy roar and realizes that they had been standing and staring at each other for a very long time. He gazes at the knife in Rorschachrsquo;s hand, its smooth, polished metal capturing a bright, reflected light that has no discernible source. It looks like the only clean, pure thing in the entire room.
�
ldquo;Rorschach, what are you doing here?rdquo;
�
He can hear his partners deep, labored breathing in the silent pause.
�
ldquo;Scum, Daniel. Scum.rdquo;
�
ldquo;What...I donrsquo;t- What do you mean?rdquo;
�
ldquo;You. Are. Scum.rdquo;
�
Oh, god. /OH GOD./ This is bad. This is very bad.
�
Daniel tries to calm himself down, before attempting to do the same to his partner. He takes a deep breath.�
�
His tone is that of a police negotiator trying to dissuade someone about to jump off a very high building.
�
ldquo;Rorschach. Whatever Irsquo;ve done... I didnrsquo;t mean to hurt you. I would never try to hurt you.rdquo;
�
ldquo;Doesnrsquo;t matter.rdquo;
�
ldquo;Wersquo;ve been partners for years. Irsquo;m a mask. Wersquo;re both masks. Wersquo;re teammates. I try to make the city safe, too. How can you say that Irsquo;m scum?rdquo;
�
Silence again, the only sound is the heavy breathing of both men. One, shaken and heaving, the other deep and forced to be steady.
�
He watches the shaky moments of his partnerrsquo;s body. Itrsquo;s like a machine thatrsquo;s about to combust. Oh, god, Rorschach. He just wants to embrace him again, to tell Walter that everything is okay and that he doesnrsquo;t have to worry, that he doesnrsquo;t have to do this.
�
ldquo;How can you say that Irsquo;m scum?rdquo;
�
ldquo;Only scum can trust scum.rdquo;
�
ldquo;I donrsquo;t...Rorschach, what are you saying?rdquo;
�
ldquo;SCUM, DANIEL. THEY ARE ALL SCUM.rdquo;
�
Not knowing what to do, Daniel stared. He had never seen his partner like this. Usually his anger was a cool simmer contained within a few sharp punches or a succinct, dry remark. Looking at him now, he was at an outright boil, with a fire all around him, consuming him.�
�
ldquo;What do you mean, lsquo;theyrsquo;? Just tell me whatrsquo;s actually going on, Rorschach. Itrsquo;ll be okay.rdquo;
�
ldquo;Not okay. THEYrsquo;RE ALL SCUM. ME. YOU. VEIDT. EVERYONE. NOT OKAY. ALL SCUM.rdquo;
�
ldquo;Rorschach...rdquo;
�
Oh, god, Walter. How are you under this mess? How did this happen?
�
ldquo;Thatrsquo;s not true. Itrsquo;ll be okay,rdquo; Daniel reached out his hand. ldquo;Walter...itrsquo;ll be okay.rdquo;�
�
He started to take a step toward his partner. ldquo;Itrsquo;ll be---rdquo;�
�
And then a series of guttural roars and a flash of purple and brown. A bright knife barely misses his neck. A shoe slams into his chest. A crowbar connects with his shoulder. An elbow hits his jaw.�
�
A flurry of motion. Limbs, metal, and cloth swirl in his vision.�
�
Eventually he finds himself sprawled with his back on the stairs. Rorschach is on top of him. There is a twitching, angry wrist gripped in each of Danielrsquo;s hands. The knife is connected to one of those wrists. Itrsquo;s next to his head, partly dug in the stairs, about an inch away from his eye. The crowbar is connected to the other wrist, suspended and twitching in the dead air around them. Rorschachrsquo;s legs are flailing, unable to get a decent footing on the uneven plane of the stairs.
�
ldquo;Rorschach.rdquo; The word comes out harsher sounding than Daniel intended.
�
He looks at his partner, guessing where his eyes would be under the mask. Where Walterrsquo;s eyes would be. For a moment, his partner returns his gaze, his flailing movements stopping.�
�
And then a wrist is freed and the knife is unstuck from the stair.
�
A cold and burning flash of pain in his abdomen.�
�
Oh god.
�
ldquo;Rorschach...rdquo;
�
The crowbar hits his head.�
�
The cold is removed from his abdomen. Now itrsquo;s all burning hot, sharp, wet pain.
�
ldquo;Scum.rdquo;
�
Rorschach leaves, not hearing Danielrsquo;s soft, half-conscious mutter.
�
ldquo;Walter...everyone dies at the end.rdquo;
�
___________
�
Adrian grinned as he slowly paced the floor of his home. He had just been informed that a certain masked man in an inkblot mask had been storming the lower floors of the building he resided in. The guards were told to stay out of the way and let him through, and that it was probably in their best interest to leave the area the masked man entered.�
�
Rorschach really did have some panache to his methods, Adrian mused. A twilight showdown in the courtyard of a penthouse apartment. It all showed quite a flair for the dramatic.
�
Expecting him to take the stairs or elevator, Adrian was pleasantly surprised when he heard movement on the balcony.�
�
He had actually /climbed/ part of the building. Adrian admired the manrsquo;s dedication to his role as he headed toward the movement with a widening grin.�
�
There was Rorschach, just having pulled himself over the balcony rail, looking an absolute mess.� He reminded Adrian of those old pirate movies with his ragged, wanton disposition and the way he was holding a large knife between his teeth. A bloody knife, he noticed upon looking more closely.
�
ldquo;Well, arenrsquo;t you just the scourge of the seven seas. You havenrsquo;t been pestering my guards too much, have you? Say, slicing holes in them?rdquo;
�
He removed the knife from his mouth. ldquo;No. No guards. Just scum.rdquo;�
�
ldquo;Hmmm. Fascinating.rdquo; It was not fascinating. ldquo;So, whatrsquo;s a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?rdquo;
�
The response was a growl and the removal of a crowbar from one of the trenchcoatrsquo;s pockets.
�
Adrian emitted a mock-frustrated sigh. ldquo;What are you doing here?rdquo;
�
ldquo;Getting rid of scum.rdquo;
�
ldquo;Oh, really? And who might said scum be?rdquo;
�
ldquo;You.rdquo;
�
ldquo;Me?rdquo;
�
ldquo;YOU ARE SCUM, VEIDT.rdquo;
�
Adrian laughed, the musical sound rippling through the excellent acoustics of the room. ldquo;Thatrsquo;s setting the bar pretty high, donrsquo;t you think?rdquo;
�
ldquo;NO.rdquo;
�
ldquo;Well, by your logic, most everyone would be scum.rdquo;
�
ldquo;Possible.rdquo;
�
ldquo;Even you?rdquo;
�
A nod.
�
ldquo;Even Daniel?rdquo;
�
He shook his head. Adrianrsquo;s grin widened.
�
ldquo;Why not?rdquo;
�
ldquo;Daniel is finished.rdquo;
�
Intriguing. ldquo;Hmmm? How so?rdquo;
�
ldquo;Daniel was scum. I got rid of scum.rdquo;
�
The smile quickly faded. ldquo;Wait...what?rdquo;
�
ldquo;YOUrsquo;RE BOTH SCUM. GOT RID OF DANIEL. HERE TO GET RID OF YOU.rdquo;
�
Rorschachrsquo;s anger had been slowly building through the conversation. After his outburst, he lunged at Adrian, both the knife and crowbar raised.
�
After only one hit with the crowbar, Adrian easily restrained him. He twisted both the weapons from his grip, and pinned him against the wall.
�
Adrianrsquo;s voice was uncharacteristically forceful, itrsquo;s usual brightness replaced with an edgy poison. ldquo;What do you mean you got rid of him?rdquo;
�
Rorschach writhed angrily beneath him. After the question was repeated twice, he got an answer.
�
ldquo;Killed.rdquo;
�
ldquo;And thatrsquo;s the knife you used, isnrsquo;t it?rdquo;
�
ldquo;Yes.rdquo;
�
Adrian made a strange, irritated growl. ldquo;Where is he?rdquo;
�
ldquo;Home.rdquo;
�
He threw him to the ground.
�
ldquo;Yoursquo;re a fool, Rorschach.rdquo; His voice was still acrid, but distant, his mind on more important matters.
�
ldquo;YOUrsquo;RE SCUM,rdquo; He roared, climbing up from the floor, still intent on attacking him.
�
ldquo;So are you.rdquo; Adrian picked up the crowbar that lay on the ground and swiftly hit the crazed man in the back of his skull, knocking him unconscious.�
�
He left, heading for Danielrsquo;s brownstone.
�
Something had gone wrong in the plan. Very wrong.
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