Log; Ongoing

[not-walter.livejournal.com]

When; May 30th, Late
Rating; It'll end up R for violence, that's for sure.
Characters; Rorschach not_walter and Muraki Kazutaka roy_de_epee
Summary; Retribution, Rorschach style. Rorschach hunts down and punishes Muraki for being a bad, bad man.
Log;

Rorschach stood in the darkness, waiting. He watched, knowing that his prey would soon come. Scum. Multiple offenses.

It would lack the normal sort of surprise Rorschach preferred. He patted his pockets. Grapple gun. Can of beans and opener. Sugar cubes. Not much of an arsenal.

But it was enough for Rorschach. More than enough.

Comments

[roy-de-epee.livejournal.com]

A long day at the hospital, an even longer day in thinking over certain things. There had been a feeling, something tugging on Muraki's sleeve, and it had vaguely reminded him of that scuffle with a black-suited man with only one eye... well, that had ended interestingly. A first taste of death, and then the poison became more tolerable; it was almost like mixing that peyote in with his coffee every morning. It built the immunity. He was closer, closer to rooting out such flaws of existence.

Yet, there still remained one piece of the puzzle that he hadn't yet captured. Oh, but he would - self-reassurances were good for something, after all.

A lighter clicked, the spark wheel turned by the thumb, and then flame. That cigarette was well-deserved, as far as he was concerned; smoke billowed into the air, accompanied by footsteps on the concrete and the hazy orange of the streetlights. Three out of... well, how many senses was it again? Did it matter? The thought entertained him in a strange way. And even with that smirk on his face, he inhaled the fumes, exhaling gently as he passed an alley. Breathing... and out of rhythm with his own. And yet he had seen no one. Trailed, perhaps?

And then he paused on a crack in the concrete.

[not-walter.livejournal.com]

It was almost too easy, not that Rorschach would simply walk up and strangle him. No, first... lure him in.

A chunk of brick, thrown to clatter right up to Muraki's feet.

Rorschach himself stood in the shadows, waiting for the bait to be taken.

[roy-de-epee.livejournal.com]

That brick was the sign he needed. Someone was trailing him - it wasn't simple paranoia. And how cute of them to try to lure him in like this. Muraki almost contemplated tossing it back by the path of trajectory. He was sorely tempted to pull out the revolver he had concealed on himself. No, that wouldn't do; there'd be no fun in that. Not unless he could get away with re-enacting what he had done with that loyal lapdog of a butler he had shot in the shoulder.

His shoe tapped on that brick. Bait - he recognised bait when he saw it. He practically had invented this game. To turn around now would be a fatal mistake. If it was a game his pursuer wanted, he'd give him a game. He knew where that brick came from; it was no problem for him to turn on his heel and head in the opposite direction. Come and get me. At least he wouldn't be plagued with ennui.

[ooc: sorry for the delay! problems arose. .___.v]

[not-walter.livejournal.com]

Smart. Smarter than Rorschach had imagined.

Stupid, he thought. Stupid to underestimate him.

He stepped out from the shadows, letting the light glint off his mask. He was called Rorschach for a reason. The mask changed, the black and white shapes reforming.

"Running won't help," he announced in his flat, monotone voice.

[roy-de-epee.livejournal.com]

Running won't help. And such the lifeless voice he heard speaking those three little words. Ha, running did help - the wise man was the one to say that no problem is too formidable not to walk away from. But it was merely the choice - to stay, to go? Muraki paused, his back turned to the person addressing him. His pursuant, he guessed easily. And casually did he look over his shoulder, smirking patronisingly back.

"Oh, is that so?" he replied. "I wonder why that is." A vigilante - again, another easy guess. Too many liked to follow him, and he had learned the identifiable signs of such a type. It was, honestly, becoming a touch too boring. Talk of justice was enough to make him feel slightly nauseous.

[not-walter.livejournal.com]

"Only delays the inevitable," Rorschach said. He continued to walk forward.

[roy-de-epee.livejournal.com]

It was then that he could get a decent look at the one who was following him. Trench coat, fedora, and... a mask. A black and white mask. How cute - he had seen these sorts of people before in American comics. Someone was just a little too voracious in their comic appetite, it seemed.

Muraki laughed to himself - trailed by a superhero, what irony - and then turned around. And then he was facing the man directly, smirking confidently as a click directed attention to his revolver that now pointed at the pursuer. "Ah, do we have a stalker in our midst?" Playfully did he lift that gun into the air, and the barrel was pointed right at the other man's interesting mask. One bullet to the head... that was all it took.

[not-walter.livejournal.com]

Rorschach paused. His mask changed again, the black and white spots reforming into a new pattern.

"Same with the gun," he said.

[roy-de-epee.livejournal.com]

It was beginning to irritate him how simplistic this speech was from the other man. Doing nothing, saying nothing... what was the object of this game, here? Muraki hated to be kept waiting for such answers; the gun remained aimed upon that mask, and it cocked as he advanced a few steps.

"Awfully rude not to introduce yourself, Mr Stalker." His irritation hardly showed, although his voice had grown cold though mocking in tone. "Strange men from alleys aren't a good sign, y'know."

[not-walter.livejournal.com]

"Rorschach," he said. He knew it wouldn't make the same sort of fear it did back in NYC. But that was the point of this excercise... to let him be known again.

He reached his hand into a pocket. Filled his palm with pepper.

[roy-de-epee.livejournal.com]

Rorschach. Like the psychological test. Ah, now the mask made sense - Muraki laughed once more, still keeping his aim. He was tempted to shoot, but... pepper? That was the defence he was up against?

Or was it something more?

"And what does Rorschach want from me~?"

[not-walter.livejournal.com]

"You've killed people. And worse," Rorschach said, still in that monotone.

And then, with a fine tuned athleticism, Rorschach flung the pepper at Muraki's eyes, and leapt to the side.

[roy-de-epee.livejournal.com]

The pepper got into his eyes - dammit, he should have known better. His eyes stung... and for the briefest of moments did he think he heard a gunshot. The gun still remained in his hand, but he had to take a step or three back, hissing in slight pain.

A vigilante. His instincts hadn't proved wrong - he was a vigilante, likely hearing stories of injustice. And now he came to eliminate him as a threat...? Dammit, and he knew that that pepper would last a significant amount of time. He should have shot the guy instantaneously. Now, he couldn't open his eyes.

Focus on other things beside sight. His eyes stung, true, and he felt like sneezing, but he kept those eyes shut and listened for the breathing. Then he aimed and fired.

[not-walter.livejournal.com]

Rorschach felt the bullet rip past his arm, grazing the shoulder. He fumbled for a second, then pulled his grapple-hook gun. It wasn't meant as a weapon, but right now he needed to work quickly. He fired, the gas powered hook (with pointed end) aimed right for Muraki's chest.