Fear

Finally I have established a path to those that I am hunting. Last week several super heroines were abducted and taken to what I think is…well I think you get the point. I have been tracking these hooligans for the past three days and they finally slipped up when they abducted Black Widow and Black Cat. Hopefully I will find them down there…alive.

-From the Journal of the Detective.

The Detective rushed after the screams of a young woman, darting up and down alleyways after her. He would not let another one slip through his hands; he couldn’t, not when he was this close to bringing these vile criminals to justice.

The sound of loud rap music distracted him from his objective; not much. just enough to make him almost lose the sounds of the terrified victim. He ran faster and harder than he had in the short 248 years that he had been alive. Begging all the while that he would find her.

Finally he caught sight of a heavily muscled man holding a pistol to a girl's head, not more than sixteen in age. Her screams had turned to whimpers. The Detective pulled a cylindrical shaped object that was red at the tip. This was the tool that was almost like an extension of his own arm, his sonic screwdriver. He quickly jammed the guns from a distance before walking over with an aura that made Batman’s seem docile.

The man looked up at the Detective after pushing a brick in the wall. A tattoo on his arm seemed to look at the Detective and make the wearer aware of his presence. He gritted the few teeth that he had and spit out a black stream of liquid that landed right in front of the Detective’s brightly polished black dress shoes.

“Let her go. Now,” the Detective commanded in a low voice that came out almost like a growl.

“Hey buddy, screw off. This broad right ‘ere belongs to the mob now, besides she likes it. Don’t she?” the thug said as he pushed the pistol so it dug into the girl’s temple.

The Detective smirked as he began to walk towards the thug. The thug pulled the pistol from the girl’s head and aimed it at the Detective. He pulled the trigger only to be greeted with a click and nothing more. The thug nervously tried to pull the trigger, becoming more scared as the Detective drew nearer, despite the lack of height or muscle the Detective had compared to the thug.

The Detective dodged a wild swing that caused the thug to drop the girl. He punched the thug in the stomach before smashing him into the wall. Those two simple actions caused the thug to crumple to the ground.

Grabbing a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket the Detective handcuffed the thug to a heavy metal dumpster. He wiped his hands before tending to the girl all the while whispering “so uncivilized these days.”

The girl’s eyes were opened wide with fear; her small body shivering with cold as her the thug had ripped her clothes. The Detective managed to calm her down enough so she could call the police.

He noticed that the wall had receded back just a little bit. The Detective pushed on it and the wall swung open like a door. After uttering a low murmur he walked in.

The smell of blood, sex, and fear stung the Detective’s nostrils as he walked down a spiral staircase into holding pens full of women. Conditions not even cattle would be forced to live in. They reached through the bars, begging for a fix. Not for freedom, but the drugs these monsters had forced upon them, the consensual rape that was considered their new job. No longer able to function without a fix the Detective moved on unable to help them.

As the Detective walked along he noticed something, all of the guards were gone. The smell of blood and decay grew stronger as he passed a nearby closet. Opening the door a pile of bodies fell out, at the top were the guards, necks snapped or slit with a sharp object. At the bottom were the whores that were considered “obsolete”.

The Detective frowned, drowning out the screams similar to a soul condemned to hell. He stood up and continued in the museum dedicated to the filth and scum of the human race.

Whoever had been through here like a bat out of hell had gotten sloppy. Leaving guards bodies lying out, drowning in the pools of their blood which had spread to cover the floor, causing the Detective’s shoes to stick to the floor when his foot came up from the ground.

After walking through more blood filled hallways the Detective came up to two grand oak doors. He pulled his sonic screwdriver out to open the door, but as he did he noticed the door had been broken open.

The Detective pushed the door opened with a finger, it swung open with a hollow creak. He walked in the door watching as a masked man swung a meat cleaver into the sex ring leader’s head. The Detective felt warm blood spill across his face, he wiped it off with a hankercheif in his coat pocket.

The man with the mask looked up. His mask was an oddity, for it looked like a rRorschach blot test. Every few seconds it would be a different shape, a different image to play across the Detective’s mind. Within moments he knew who the masked man was. He is one of the best and the worst heroes that had been called to Gotham city.

“Who are you? You ain’t the scum that previously inhabited here," he asked in a gruff scratchy voice.

“I am the Detective. It is a pleasure to meet the famously infamous Rorschach.”