Bang bang bang bang—!!!
Shock was followed by rage.
After missing his first shot, the sniper exploded, yanking the bolt and firing again and again. The deafening gunfire sent rounds screaming straight toward Rorschach behind the shattered scope.
Already on high alert, Rorschach dove aside, rolling into cover behind the corner of a wall.
At the same time, the other killer shook off the impact from earlier. Roaring in fury, he raked the hallway with his assault rifle, muzzle spitting fire as he pinned Rorschach behind the wall.
"Fck! Fck!!"
The man spat the few English words he knew, pressing forward step by step, getting closer and closer to the wall Rorschach was using for cover.
At that critical instant, the pistol that had been knocked flying spun out from behind the wall and clattered across the floor to the side.
The killer's nerves were stretched so tight that his eyes snapped to it without thinking, and the barrel of his rifle shifted, just a hair.
The next second—
In a blur of motion—
Thud.
Rorschach twisted out from behind the wall, bent low, and his legs scissored like steel clamps around the man's waist, jerking hard.
As the killer started to topple, Rorschach locked both arms around his lower leg, braced his own knee as a fulcrum, and wrenched down.
Crack—
The sharp snap of bone breaking came at the same instant as the man's scream.
Without pausing, Rorschach snatched the rifle's handguard with one hand, forcing the barrel away, and twisted the man's wrist with the other.
The weapon tore free and dropped neatly into Rorschach's waiting hands.
Kani Basami and a ground disarm—one smooth chain. In the blink of an eye, the Mexican hitter was out of the fight.
"Brother!"
On the rooftop, the sniper saw it all and shouted, then swung his sights to Rorschach and squeezed the trigger.
But thanks to his danger sense and the rapid response Gun-Fu gave him, Rorschach slipped away with a couple of quick rolls, the shots chewing nothing but plaster.
The sniper started to line up again—
And the lights in the house suddenly went out.
He held his breath and watched through the scope, but without NVG all he could see was darkness. Only the curtains moved, snapping in the wind.
Suddenly—
Bang bang—!
Two shots cracked from inside, followed by the twin screams of his brother.
There was no time to grieve. He snapped two, three, four rounds at the brief flashes of muzzle flare, spraying bullets into the house—but no answering fire came.
Nerves began to fray.
As one of the Salamanca family's coldest, most efficient killers, he had never had a hit go sideways like this.
Ten, fifteen seconds crawled by.
He still stared into the black rectangle of the window, but his breathing had lost its steady rhythm.
Where?
Where the hell was that cop hiding?
Click.
A crisp sound of a round chambering exploded right beside his ear.
The sniper went rigid. Slowly, disbelieving, he turned his head.
Rorschach stood over him, face blank, gun leveled, looking down on him from above.
Like a demon come to collect.
————————————
Water rushed over the floor in thin, clear sheets as Rorschach scrubbed hard at the stains with a mop.
Luckily, the blood had not fully clotted yet. After several passes, most of it was gone—though the stench of iron still clung to the air.
The house, though, was another story. Blood wiped away in minutes. Fixing the damage those men had done would take weeks.
Cracked plaster, shattered doors and windows, broken furniture and smashed electronics—everywhere he looked just made his anger burn hotter.
He grabbed the pistol at his waist, walked out to the street, and emptied the mag into the two bodies he had dumped by the curb.
Gunshots boomed between the houses. Neighbors who heard them only moved quietly to shut their doors and windows tighter.
"You're not gonna tell me you never bought homeowner's insurance."
At some point, Chief Griffin had walked up behind him. He took in the wreckage with a glance and said, "Even if you didn't, you can file this as retaliation against an officer. The department will authorize funds to fix the place."
Rorschach did not answer. He just kept feeding bullets into the corpses.
The chief shook his head, clasped his hands behind his back, and stepped into the house.
When Rorschach finally walked in, out of bullets, he found Griffin staring at a photo on the wall.
He studied the woman in the frame for a long time before saying quietly, "There aren't many good people in the South Side. Mary was one of the best. It's a damn shame. Ever since she died, this block's only gotten worse."
Rorschach shrugged. For once, he did not grab beers from the fridge. Instead, he boiled some water and fixed two cups of tea.
When he set one in front of the chief, Griffin watched the tea leaves swirl and asked suddenly, "Rorschach, you remember when we first met?"
"First time?" Rorschach said casually. "At my mother's funeral. You said you were her classmate."
The chief smiled and nodded. "Yeah. You barely came up to my chest back then, but you handled everyone like a little gentleman. After the service, everybody was talking about you. Said Mary could rest easy now that she had a son who could already stand on his own two feet."
Rorschach said nothing.
Griffin went on, "Back at the station, I got curious. I pulled your file. And I found out that polite kid at the funeral had direct or indirect ties to more than a dozen homicide cases."
"I needed money," Rorschach said, offering no excuses. "Didn't matter if I starved. But I wasn't going to let the woman who raised me get buried like a stray dog."
"Even if it meant breaking the law?"
"Even if it meant breaking the law."
The chief sighed softly and spoke again. "I've suspected for years there was more between you and Gus. Let me guess—he's got enough on you to bury you for life. That's why they pulled you back to Chicago after the academy."
Rorschach frowned. "If you know all that… why keep covering for me?"
Griffin looked him in the eye and smiled. "Because I know you're a good man. A decent kid at heart."
Rorschach only felt more lost. He had a three‑digit body count. And the chief still thought he was "good"?
"You need to understand something, Rorschach."
The chief's tone sharpened. "If a man is completely useless, he doesn't get to call himself good. He just doesn't have the power to do harm."
"But if a man is a beast, and still manages to hold it back? Then, and only then, does he earn the right to be called kind."
"Only a beast is qualified to be called a good man."
He drained his tea in one long swallow.
Then he nodded toward the corpses outside. "Let the animal out. I'm not going to watch Mary's son get driven into a corner by scum pushing poison. When this is done, whether you stay or go, I'll make sure you're taken care of."
He stood, looked one more time at Mary's photo, then checked his watch.
"I've got someone else to see. I'm heading out."
Rorschach watched him go, silent. After a while, his lips slowly curled into a smile.
Release the beast within?
He liked the sound of that.
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(End of Chapter)
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