Rorschach's Journal, April 7th, 2009

Rorschach’s Journal, 9:55 pm, Tuesday

Another quiet day today. Walked along with End is Nigh sign, found change on street. Also found dead crow by sidewalk near news stand. Life ended struck by car. Blood covered.

Hadn’t eaten much today. Saving money for cat surgery. Honestly, find it difficult to spend the money on anything. Too worried to use it up and have nothing for later.

Sitting now in apartment, getting ready for night stroll. No aim in particular, save for perhaps wandering by Shari’s new residence to make sure a good place was selected. By the looks of the address, it seemed suitable.

Listened to the radio as I dressed. Luthor “Glass jaw” had made it out of critical condition. Recovering, with no memory of the other night. Fortuitous. Reports are still in that it had been inter-gang violence. So far, it would seem that aging police officer the other night had kept my cover. Wondered if our paths would cross again. Good to have potential ally on police force.

Pulled black and white skin over face and used grappling gun to lower myself out of window. Snapped button, retractable gun tip flicked back into place. I was grateful to Dan to have provided me with a new one. This one had more power than the last one, and a longer range. Trouble is, still worked on CO2 cartridges. Needed to be frugal, not easy to come by those.

Walked a while. The night had turned chilly. My breath fogged out in the cold air. Spring in DC was fickle. One day 70s, the next 40’s. Fortunately trench coat kept me warm and dry. Wandered a while, passed still open liquor stores and tattoo shops for last minute customers. Their barred windows an indicator of the kind of neighborhood in which I lived. Wish I could afford better. At least the landlord wasn’t slum lord. One of the few honest people in this crooked town.

One chilly whore approached me, looked cold and a bit afraid. “Hi, I’m China, I….”

I held up a disinterested hand. She looked deflated. I do not condone whoring. But I acknowledge that for some it can be the last act of desperation. I just didn’t agree with turning to it in the first place, especially not after my childhood. The whore started to cry.

I stopped, “I cannot help you.” I said darkly, without turning around, “However, if you go Mission Vargas on Eye Street you’ll find decent shelter with hot food.” I said as I walked away. “Give up whoring.”

The whore meekly thanked me.

For a short while I felt rattled and irritated. What if this woman had a child? What if she were a child herself? Hurm. Why did people let themselves stoop that far? I couldn’t be a social worker. There were others for that. People make their own choices. My mission was to combat the evil that humans do. The best I could do was to keep the streets safe, at least. In that way that was how I could help the hapless woman.

I strolled for a good hour along the moderately quiet streets. Tuesday night people were already home settling in for the evening. Warm lights glowed from cozy homes. Occasionally I could see as I walked scenes of domesticity. People sat watching television or cleaning up dishes. They should draw their curtains.

Wandered passed where Shari lived. Didn’t stop. Didn’t want to call attention to myself. Looked secure enough. Just a stone front townhouse. Wondered if she was staying with a friend. Good enough neighborhood. I felt secure she was safe. I walked on.

Ducked behind a bush. Cop car passed. Didn’t see me. The police force was dull here. Some research garnered information that they are only required High School education. Wondered what kind of special training they obtained in employment?

Wandered passed quiet ambulance parked and running idle on the street. Peeked in. No one inside, but the radio was operating. Emergencies called out to deaf ears. Waited and watched down the block a good 15 minutes till someone showed. Two people, laughing and staggering a bit. Took down license plate, will report to the officials. No place for drunkards in emergency services.

Thought of my email address. Hoped it would garner some result. What if it did? I would go to visit Dan, how would I? Who would take care of James? Miss Dorian I’m sure would be happy to. What would Dan and I do once I got there? My life was wrapped up with crime fighting. My life was on the street. Dan’s life was soft and comfortable. Our age difference now was quite pronounced. Was he even Nite-Owl any longer? Did he live in a rest home bloated, stiff, waiting to die? Reliving past conquests and mourning the old days?

Just at that moment a small body slammed into me from the side, taking me by surprise.

“Help!” The boy all of about 11 years old cried out. He was being chased by older teenagers.

“What’s this all about?” I questioned as I pushed the boy behind me.

“None of your business, weirdo.” One of the older teens barked.

“Get out of here, before I turn you in, and don’t think I can’t.” I said sternly and raised a fist. The two boys, thinking better about it, ran the other way. I then turned to the younger boy, “What happened?” I questioned gruffly.

“My brother’s friends. I flushed their pot down the toilet.” He started to cry. “I hate it.”

I paused, “I hate it too. You should go home.”

The boy seemed unsure, masked strange man. He backed away a bit, never once looking at my face. Perhaps it was a good idea to be afraid of strangers. "They might jump me again."

“Walk home I'll stand here and make sure they don’t come back.” I offered.

The boy nodded and wandered away, looking back every once in a while at my shadowy figure. He approached a house about a dozen houses down and entered.

I continued to walk, feeling like I helped somehow tonight. Tomorrow will focus on other things. Tonight, protecting the innocent.

For now, Rorschach