Bang bang bang—
Rewind to ten minutes earlier.
In the elevator, a dozen gunmen headed for Ginny had already drawn their pistols.
Click click—
Rounds slid into chambers one after another.
For muscle on a dealer's payroll, killing was routine. The target this time was a little unusual.
But it was not like they had never killed cops before.
And this one was just a rookie female officer.
"Target is the second apartment from the left. Kidnapping's the priority. If she resists, break her legs."
As the elevator neared the floor, the leader in front spoke in a calm, steady voice. "Any witnesses, kill them all. No survivors."
"Heh, got it."
The answers came lazy and careless. Clearly no one took this job seriously.
Ding—
The doors slid open.
They spilled out fast, fanning down the hallway on both sides, using the walls for cover as they moved toward the target apartment.
Just as they were about to reach it, everything went black.
Not just the corridor—the entire floor.
Power to that level had been cut with surgical precision.
"What the hell?"
Before they could figure it out, several dull thuds shattered the silence.
Thick, acrid gas flooded the hallway.
"F*ck, CS gas!"
"Ambush! Fall back!"
They forgot all about Ginny and scrambled for the elevator.
But this time, it was not up to them.
Out of the doors on both sides of the hall, squads in full uniform surged out.
They wore advanced tactical vests with the latest armor panels and attachments, and helmets with integrated night vision and thermal imaging. Every one of them carried an M4.
"Alpha team, left flank. Suppression fire!"
Muffled suppressed shots snapped, and several gunmen dropped instantly.
The rest finally realized they had walked into a trap. They fired wildly as they dove into the stairwells on either side.
"Beta team, right flank, hook around and encircle."
Orders came crisp and clear. The units moved in fire‑and‑movement pairs, leapfrogging down the corridor, slipping to the gunmen's flanks and closing the ring.
Rounds found backs and legs as the fleeing men tried to run, driving them into kill zones with no way out.
"Delta sniper team, on station. Watch for unexpected movers."
A few stragglers made it into the stairwell and started down—only for a sniper's round to snap through the window and blow them off their feet.
In less than five seconds, almost every one of the dozen hitters was dead. Only the elevator leader was still alive, stumbling and scrambling for the roof.
Any trace of calm was gone from his face. He clawed his way up the last flight of stairs and burst through the rooftop door—
And stopped cold.
Three helicopters fitted with heavy machine guns circled overhead, all of them painted with the same four letters: CTU.
"I—I'm just a drug dealer…"
That scene played out across Chicago in several locations at once.
Everywhere else, the ambush teams were SWAT.
Only the crew sent after Ginny had hit the jackpot.
"Can't get through, huh?"
Back in the park, Rorschach's voice sounded flat.
But to Gus, it was the whisper of death.
He forced himself not to show fear, refusing to let even a crack show, and even managed to sneer. "I thought you were just a killing machine. Didn't think you had a brain."
Rorschach stared down at him without expression, racking the shotgun and hammering the sunroof again and again.
Each blast made Gus's heart jolt.
The reinforced glass was buckling under the repeated hits, looking like it could give at any second.
Bang—crash…
One more shot, and the sunroof shattered, shards raining down.
Gus finally lost his composure. He jerked up the phone in his hand, its screen showing a text already typed out.
"One tap—just one—and every record of your crimes hits the DA's desk tomorrow. No, tonight!"
His voice was high with panic, his tone suddenly pleading.
"Rorschach, you've killed enough for one night. What changes if you add me to the count?"
He pushed on, desperate. "Let me walk and I swear, from this second on we're done. I'll destroy everything I've got on you. Tomorrow, you go back to being a cop, I go back to my business. How about it? Think about it."
Rorschach watched his frantic face for a long beat before speaking.
"Up until today, I've been trying to figure out a clean way to solve you. Make you disappear without ending up on a wanted poster."
"But last night, I figured it out."
"Figured… what?" Gus asked, voice tight.
"A man who spends his life just thinking never gets anything but more thoughts."
Rorschach leveled the barrel at Gus's head.
"You picked the wrong man to cross."
Boom—
The shot tore through the cramped space.
Blood exploded and painted the interior in red.
Rorschach glanced down at Gus's phone and let out a dry, mocking laugh.
The text had already been sent. The whole speech had just been to buy time and bluff him.
It did not matter.
He had already made peace with running for his life.
He had heard Eastern Europe was nice—chaotic, lawless. Perfect for people like him.
He dropped off the roof. His hands were slick with blood, but he paid it no mind as he fished out a cigarette and lit up.
"If you don't wake up, I'll just have to kill your whole family," he said mildly.
"Kh… kh…"
In the driver's seat, Mike coughed and gave up on playing dead, glancing up at him, face tight.
He did not resist. He staggered out of the wreck and stood there, pleading. "Rorschach, I've got this coming. I've done enough bad to know how this ends. But my granddaughter's innocent. She's only eight, she—"
Bang—
Rorschach put a round through his knee. The joint shattered.
Another shot, and the other leg went the same way.
"Your granddaughter's innocent. The kids you shipped to New York were just supposed to die?"
Rorschach stared down at the older man gritting his teeth through the pain, then raised the muzzle to his forehead.
"You gave me that plate number. I'll spare your family. But you? You die a thousand times over and it still wouldn't be enough."
The last shot echoed out, and another headless body hit the ground.
Rorschach blew out a stream of smoke. Time was short. He needed to get home, pack fast, and be on a plane before any warrants came down.
Too bad he would not get the chance to file that evaluation score on rookie Ginny.
He had just turned to go when a ringtone chirped from inside the car.
Gus's phone.
He hesitated, then stepped back and picked up.
A frantic, shaken voice spilled out of the speaker.
When it finished, Rorschach just stood there for a moment.
"The safe is empty?"
————————————
Late that night, at Chicago PD.
Chief Griffin had his feet kicked up on his desk, a cigar in his left hand, whiskey in his right, humming an old country tune from decades past, looking completely loose.
In the trash can by the desk, bundles of paper files and a handful of VHS tapes burned bright.
Over the crackle of flames, the chief's slightly slurred voice drifted out:
"Nineteen, I enlisted. Twenty‑five, I was in Desert Storm. Out, into the academy—top of my class two years straight. The spooks came knocking, the FBI was fighting over me."
"Even stuck in Commercial Crimes, I was the best safe‑cracker they had, dragged back more dirty money than I can even count…"
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(End of Chapter)
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