Who Watches?

Rating: FR18 (for violence and mature language)

Watchmen, Rorschach are all copyright of their respective owners (Alan Moore, DC, Fox, whoever owns them after the insanity going on recently).

In direct concordance with my mental rules, Part 3, subsection C, line 13, I am forced to write a story (however long or short I may choose it to be) based on what I am currently hyped the most for at the moment. That would be the Watchmen movie.

So, I present to you this one-shot focusing on the famous vigilante. Enjoy!
---------------------

October 24th, 1976

11: 45 PM

The three teens slammed open the door, causing it to smash on the wall behind from the swing. They were all gasping heavily, pale. Quickly, they closed the door behind them, and placed a chair in the way of the handle, barricading it. One of them reached for a lightswitch, and found it. He flipped it up and down repeatedly, to no effect.

"Damn it!", he yelled out loud. He turned to his companions who were looking around the building. A hallway led into a room at their right, windows letting in some of the moonlight, but shadows danced from the lightning and rain outside. The room that they were in stretched off to the left, with some dilapidated chairs and tables lying about, forgotten. Ahead, a staircase went up and switchbacked multiple times, going up the floors leading to the roof.

Two of the three converged together. The other was in the room to the right, looking around.

"We're screwed man. We're gonna die, did you hear what happened to the Topknots on fifty-seventh? F**king heads busted open, we're so dead-"

"Jesus man, calm the hell down already. I think we're safe here. The man moves pretty damn slow", the other interrupted.

"Okay, okay, we're good, just gotta take deep breaths....", he leaned against the wall. The third teen in the other room called out to them, his body illuminated by the moonlight.

"Alright guys, I think we're okay. Let's go out the back door and head to fortie-"

Without warning, the window behind him shattered. Arms, cloaked, reached forward, grabbing the young man by the shoulder and neck. A snarl of rage came in from outside, full of hate. The teen was dragged out violently, screaming.

"Oh, we're F**KED!", the nervous one yelled. Screams continued from outside, as well as crashing and snapping. It stopped suddenly. The calmer one spoke up.

"Shut up! Just shut up! for a second!", he yelled. His partner quieted down immediately, whimpering. They looked at eachother in confusion.

The body of their friend crashed through the barricaded door, smashing the door to splinters and snapping the chair in half. He thumped to the ground and rolled, face looking up in terror, eyes wide, body broken. The door was open, and the noise from the downpour outside came in. Lightning struck, illuminating a silhoutted form. Wearing a trenchcoat and a hat, no skin showed, The man was tall, and his face was obscured by a white mask, spotted with black blotches. He lifted his head from the body on the ground to the two teens remaining. Eyes locked.

"Oh shit", one of them managed to whisper.

The nervous broke now. He reached into his coat pocket, drawing out a chain, and rushed, screaming in a panic. He swung it, which was easily avoided. Rorschach grabbed the chain in one hand, and the man's arm in another. With a fluid, fast motion, he shoved the arm down, and wrapped the chain around it. Pushing down with one arm and pulling up with another, the limb made a cringe-inducing snapping sound. The teen screamed. Half dragging his over, the vigilante maneouvered his victim over to the tables and chairs.

He lifted up the young man's head, and slammed it down on the table, once, twice, three times. Upon the third, the table cracked and broke. He tossed the victim down, leaving him.

While this had been happening, the remaining teen rushed up the stairs, not bothering to look back, runninhg for dear life. After going up three switchbacks, he looked down. As soon as he did, Rorschach entered the stairwell, and looked up, straight as his runner. He began climbing the stairs, running, proving the teen's earlier observation wrong.

"Oh god", he muttered, and began looking around frantically for an exit. He entered the floor he was currently on, trying to open any of the abandoned apartments. He pulled and pushed wildly, cursing at each failure. The thump of footsteps approaching made him rush back to the stairs, and he began climbing, looking down at the same time. The vigilante was only a floor behind.

He quickly approached the top of the stairs, and, using his momentum and all his weight, slammed himself against it. The door flew open off it's old hinges. With a thanks, he crawled through onto the roof, the rain pouring down. He rushed to the side, looking for some sort of escape. Nothing. The drop was six floors. The building adjacent was at around ten feet away.

"Oh god, oh my god......", he mumbled. He took a few large steps back, and glanced at the door behind him.

Rorschach passed through it, and looked straight at him. The teen started running for the edge. The vigilante sprinted behind.

Screaming, he jumped, limbs flailing. A thousand variations on the same thought passed through his head, hoping he would make it. Finally, after what seemed like minutes in the air, he began descending. He crashed on the edge of the rooftop, his hands scrabbling over it, struggling to grip something. Holding the very edge of the building top, and pushing off of a widowsill beneath him, he rolled onto the roof, drenched in rainwater. Lightning flashed again.

He pushed himself up, his ribs aching. He jogged forward, and glanced back. Rorschach could not be seen.

Suddenly, he came into view, jumping between the two buildings easily. He hit the ground, and rolled, before standing. He walked slower now, he prey closer. The teen was horrified.

"Come on, what I did wasn't that bad! I have to feed my family....My dad died, I got to give them food for god's sake!". Still the vigilante moved closer.

"Are you listening! I said-"

Striking out, Rorschach knocked the breath out of him with a punch to the gut. The teen stopped talking, gasping for air. He lifted the victim off his feet, hoisting him up by the scuff of his shirt.

"You don't look so good. Should get you to hospital", he asked, his gravelly voice penetrating through the noise of the storm. The teen couldn't say anything, still recovering from the blow.

"You put many in the hospital. Not a good thing to do. Beds are probably full. I'll save you the wait."

He walked over to the edge of the roof, and lifted his target higher. The lightning flashed again, and rainwater dripped off the edge of his hat.

"Filth. Filth will be washed away. Just like you."

With that, he pushed, and hurled the teen off the edge, down six floors, face first to the pavement below.

-------------

Yeah, that was it. Hope it was good, thanks for reading and all that :)

Holy crap, somebody posted on a fan-fic I did!

I can always count on you Aztec :) Thanks for the compliments. I'm thinking of doing a one-shot for each individual member of Watchmen's main cast, but I don't think I'd be very good with Silk Spectre 2 :I

Rorschach is dead, sniff, but he'll live on come March.

(Oh yeah, sorry I never finished Bad Company. There's one part left and I just never got around to writing it, lol. I should do that sometime soon)

"yes you should do that, its got to be in my top 5 favorite fan-fics on here, maybe even Top 3? and its not even finished yet!!

anyways, don't worry about Silk Spectre, I hate her, as well as Nite-Owl

my favorites are Rorschach, Dr. Manhattan, The Comedian aaaand umm well that's it, oh Ozymandias is cool too"

I WANT MORE!

I might write another piece for Roschach, if I can think of a good idea. The problem with me, writing-wise, is that I can't "develop" a story. All of my good ones have always been completely spontaneous, and come out of absolutely nowhere (usually when I'm going to bed).

I'll take it that you liked it, so, thanks! :)