Glug, glug…
In front of the fridge, Rorschach was clutching a big cardboard jug of orange juice, skipping the glass entirely and biting the cap off to chug straight from the container.
He was no stranger to hangovers. Getting high, though—and passively at that—was a first on both counts in his life.
After downing several big bottles of ice water, he finally felt a bit more human. He jumped into a cold shower, threw on clean clothes, and got ready to head to work.
Last night, after accidentally breathing in the smoke from the burning drugs, he had relied on nothing but his freakish constitution and sheer willpower to get the Irish brothers home, then grabbed a cab back himself, barely avoiding the embarrassment of passing out on the street.
"Sometimes you really do have to trust the old-timers' wisdom…"
He lit a cigarette with a bitter little smile and pushed the door open. Unless he was wrong, the precinct was going to be very busy today.
He had barely stepped outside when his feet froze.
"Looks like you didn't sleep very well last night."
Gus was sitting on the bench in front of the yard, staring straight at him.
Rorschach smiled, unfazed. "Still better than some people who probably didn't sleep at all. What, just got sprung from the station and rushed over here to posture at me already?"
Gus did not answer. He slowly rose to his feet and smoothed the wrinkles from his suit jacket.
Rorschach said nothing either, just watched every move he made.
As always, Gus meticulously checked his clothes. Once satisfied, he walked up to Rorschach, step by measured step.
He studied the man who had been at his side since he was thirteen, who had started rebelling as an adult, and who now posed a real threat to his business.
After a long moment, he spoke.
"I'm tired of your little games, Rorschach. The real war starts now."
"You going to leak my old case files?" Rorschach narrowed his eyes. "Don't forget—you're the one who ordered every one of those hits. You think I don't have my own insurance? If I go down, you're going with me. No—I'll kill you first."
A cold smile flickered over Gus's hard face. "That's what I've always liked most about you. You're a rabid dog. Doesn't matter who's in front of you—you'll still throw yourself at their throat."
He patted Rorschach on the shoulder. "Those files are in my safe. If you're so capable, go get them."
This time, Rorschach was genuinely thrown.
The only reason he had not moved on Gus yet was that the man was holding those records over his head.
He had made too many enemies over the years.
If he ever lost the badge—or worse, caught a conviction—he would have no choice but to flee the country and spend the rest of his life running from every gang and cartel he had ever hurt.
Sounded badass on paper. In reality, he was not ready to start his Punisher era just yet.
That was also why, even after learning Gus was selling kids, he had still worn a mask when he went in to rescue them.
Until he got those files, he was not ready to burn the bridge completely.
But now… had that changed?
"I told you, I'm done with you threatening me and me threatening you," Gus said, voice flat as ice. "I'm going to hunt down every last one of your friends and partners. Once you've watched everyone you care about bleed out on the floor, I'll take my time savoring your despair."
"I don't have friends," Rorschach replied coldly.
"Do you?" Gus smiled faintly. "Then I'll be sure to pass that message along right before they die."
He reached up, straightened Rorschach's collar like he had the day they first met, then turned and walked away.
His composure and chill were exactly what they had always been, as if nothing at all had happened last night.
Rorschach could feel the threat in his words. His hand drifted toward the pistol at his belt.
But he quickly let the thought of ending it here go.
At the curb, dozens of gunmen had already gotten out of their vehicles and were watching him like hawks. At their head stood his former instructor, Mike.
Even with his ego, Rorschach did not believe he could take on that many ready guns in a stand-up fight.
Gus walked away without another glance, as if Rorschach were already a corpse.
"The safe…"
Watching the convoy disappear, Rorschach muttered under his breath.
——————————
Back at the precinct, things were just as crazy as he had expected. Every cop in the building was drowning.
In just one night, there had been multiple shootouts and explosions downtown, wounding scores of bystanders. On top of that, a dozen missing children had turned up and needed statements taken and placements arranged. The bodies at the dry-cleaning plant had to be processed. And a warehouse fire on the West Side had killed more than ten people.
The morgue was nearly full. Officers were run ragged.
Chief Griffin, especially, was in a foul mood. He had already torn into several officers until they were ready to cry.
"Rorschach!"
He had barely walked in when the chief snapped him up like a conscript.
In the office, without a word, the old white man popped a tape into the player and hit play.
Rorschach watched the monitor and raised an eyebrow. The footage showed a masked man infiltrating the plant, taking down twenty gunmen, and rescuing the kidnapped kids.
"When it's done, you got anything to say?" the chief asked, giving him a sidelong look.
Rorschach shrugged. "Cool. Guy clearly has a military background. Tactics are solid, shooting's sharp. Definitely not his first black-bag job."
The chief glared at him. Then he actually laughed in anger. "You shameless little shit. You come in here just to brag in front of me?"
"Me?" Rorschach feigned confusion. "Chief, you've got it wrong. I was at home all night."
"Heh."
Griffin gave him a cold smile. "Kid, I enlisted at nineteen, fought Desert Storm at twenty-five. After that I topped my academy class two years running. Intel wanted me, the FBI tripped over themselves trying to recruit me. If you think I can't recognize your grip and stance on that tape, you really are underestimating me."
"Uh… heh."
Rorschach just grinned, keeping his mouth shut. He knew the chief well enough—if the old man had pulled him in alone to talk about the tape, it meant he had no intention of exposing or punishing him.
"Knock it off and rein yourself in a little."
The chief lit a cigar and frowned. "I know you've got history with Gus. But the man's not just ruthless, he's got over a hundred gunmen on his payroll and big names watching his back. You keep charging in like this, he won't let you walk away forever."
Rorschach nodded. He did not mention the little visit Gus had paid him that morning.
The dealer clearly had full-scale revenge in mind. Dragging the one man who always covered for him into that crossfire would be the worst possible move.
"The department's gonna be slammed for a while. You don't get to sit idle either."
He tossed a stack of files onto the desk. "Go pull Ginny out of the hospital. The girl's called me three times a day begging to be cleared for duty. There's an ugly case in the North Side. You two go take a look and bring me the perp as fast as you can."
Rorschach flipped through the file and immediately rubbed at his temples.
Rich neighborhood, school, widows and orphans… Jesus. A full set of negative buffs.
(End of Chapter)
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