Chapter 2: Breaking Bad

Ginny had never patrolled the South Side, but at the words "child abduction," her grip tightened on the steering wheel. In this country, no matter the rot beneath, children were the sacred line.

She reached for the radio—but Rorschach snatched it first.

‌"7-C-15 en route."‌

The cruiser launched forward, pinning Ginny to her seat. She turned to see Rorschach's lazy smirk replaced by lethal focus. Sirens wailed as they tore through streets of crumbling row houses, finally skidding to a stop outside a sagging two-story shack.

The yard reeked of rotting garbage. Ginny unbuckled her seatbelt, but Rorschach shoved her back.

‌"Stay. Swap that toy Glock for your real piece."‌

"I'll cover you!" Ginny said eagerly.

‌"Lesson One: Don't get dead."‌ He slammed the door and strode toward the house.

At the door, Rorschach knocked twice. ‌"CPD. We've got a report of—"‌

‌"F*ck off, pig!"‌ A woman's voice spat from inside. ‌"Step one foot in here, I'll blow your skull open!"‌

Rorschach's voice turned glacial. ‌"Final warning. Open up, or I'll breach."‌

‌"Eat sh*t!"‌

‌"Lesson Two,"‌ Rorschach called over his shoulder as he yanked a Remington M870 from the trunk. ‌"Breach with buckshot."‌

Ginny's protest died as he pumped the shotgun. ‌"We need a warrant!"‌

‌"Lesson Three: Improvise."‌

‌BOOM!‌

Two thunderous blasts obliterated the door. Rorschach vanished inside.

‌POP-POP-POP!‌ Pistol fire erupted. A child screamed.

Ginny drew her Sig Sauer, but froze as Rorschach emerged moments later—shotgun in one hand, a sobbing girl clutched to his chest.

‌"Call it in. Suspects: two crackheads. Male tried to shoot me. Arm's gone."‌ His tone was flat, as if discussing grocery lists.

As Ginny radioed dispatch, the shack's door crashed open. A mountainous Black woman charged out, finger jabbing at Rorschach. ‌"You ain't sh*t, Butcher! Think that badge lets you terrorize us? I'll sue your—"‌

Her tirade choked off as her husband staggered out behind her—right arm a mangled stump, face twisted with meth-fueled rage. ‌"Take her!"‌ He leered at the girl. ‌"She'll be back. I'll find her. Remember that pretty face…"‌

Rorschach set the girl down. ‌"Close your eyes, kid."‌

He turned to Ginny. ‌"Lesson Four: Eliminate threats permanently."‌

‌BOOM!‌

The first blast hurled the man five feet. Rorschach stalked forward, pumping rounds into the twitching body until the shotgun clicked empty. Blood pooled around what remained of the torso.

The wife crumpled against the wall, silent now.

Unseen by all, a wisp of crimson light seeped from the corpse into Rorschach's chest. He flexed his fingers, then shrugged at Ginny.

‌"Cancel the ambulance."‌

————————

Thirty minutes later, outside a modest South Side home:

Ginny carried the girl to her doorstep. ‌"Aren't you coming?"‌

Rorschach lit a cigarette. ‌"You take the hero moment. Newbie perk."‌

She scoffed—until the door flew open.

‌"CASSIE!"‌ A woman's scream tore the air as she ripped the child from Ginny's arms. The family collapsed into a weeping heap on the porch.

Ginny stood frozen, warmth flooding her chest—pride? Joy? Addiction?

Rorschach watched from the cruiser, smile fading as his phone buzzed. The screen read: ‌GUS.‌

He answered. A velvet voice purred:

‌"Need a shipment of kids moved to New York. Keep the PD off my back…"