Fear

A few entries ago I must have sounded narcissistic and cocky. I spoke about being Gotham's savior when really I am anything but. I have spilled more blood and killed more innocents than I have saved. Now I walk the streets of Gotham wondering if I the Detective, chosen by the Council of Ierstance, the higher authority in the universe, am fit to continue judging worlds. I am into my third regeneration after judging no less than 26 worlds, civilizations, and even entire races to be worthy of death or life. 17 times have I cast the death sentence. Leaving my death toll in the trillions. 

Who can live with guilt like this? Who can live knowing they killed so many people? Some of which I could have saved. I sometimes can hear the screams of the damned when the fire touches the planets surface. They scream and they cry, but yet I cannot help them. Why do I live? Is it so others may die? Or will I grant redemption? 

I write this instead of trying to sleep but yet I know that whoever may find this will never believe that these words are true. Dear reader please remember, every last word is truth.
-From the journal of the Detective. 

Rorschach tilted his head ever so slightly before lunging at the Detective with the meat cleaver. He swung at the Detective's head but fortunately he was able to duck, causing the meat cleaver to get lodged in an old antique clock that decorated the room. 

Rorschach abandoned the cleaver and took a swing at the Detective's face. Dodging it the Detective put his hands up in a surrender pose. 

"Mr. Rorschach I am not your enemy," the Detective managed to get out before dodging a roundhouse kick to the face. 

Rorschach stopped his assault for a moment. "You don't sound like the others. You don't look like 'em either. Who are you?" he asked in a deep guttural voice. 

"My name is the Detective and just the Detective in case you're wondering."

"You here to rescue masks too?" Rorschach asked the Detective. The Detective couldn't help but notice it was like he talked in bullet points. Very to the point. 

"I guess so. I heard quite a few had been captured a few days ago. Hopefully they aren't as bad as those downstairs."

"That's a druggie whore on a good day. Through here."

Rorschach pointed towards a door. When he tried to open it the door was found to be locked. The Detective walked over to unlock it but Rorschach kicked the door open. 

"Simple. But effective," were the only words the Detective had to describe the scene. 

The Detective walked into the room. Rorschach had been right, the kidnapped superheroines had been stored here.  Two things sprung to the Detectives mind as he looked around. The first was fortunately they hadn't been drugged up yet. The second was that he wished they'd gotten there earlier. 

He looked in horror at what had been done to these poor women. Black Widow hung from her arms. Beaten and bloody. Batgirl cried out for someone to help, for she could not feel her legs. Black Cat laid on a table, her whole body was full of knife cuts. 

The Detective ran around making sure that they were at least alive. Fortunately they all were. But for how long was another factor. The police needed to arrive soon. Hopefully with an ambulance or two. Knowing Gotham that would be asking too much. 

The sound of a door slamming alerted the two heroes to a new presence. They looked out to see a SWAT team had arrived. As the Detective got up to meet them he was greeted by a hail of gunfire.  

The Detective let himself be tackled by Rorschach. He looked up at him as they ducked behind a desk. 

"Stupid, stupid, stupid! Black Mask's paid off cops. Shit! Follow me!" he yelled while running up a flight of stairs dodging bullets that flew from the officers rifles. 

The two ran up a flight of stairs and came into a different room. It was owned by a young lady from all of the feminine beauty products laying around. Rorschach picked up a can of hairspray and a lighter from his pocket. He threw another one to the Detective. 

The lightly armed heroes, though gracious they had been lucky enough to stumble across meager weapons proceeded carefully out into a hallway. They quietly walked forward not making a sound until the Detective knocked over a vase that was on display in the hallway. 

That alerted them to their prescience as SWAT began to pour in from downstairs. The two lit their lighters and sprayed the hairspray, giving them both miniature flamethrower. 

The first SWAT member caught on fire and stumbled down the stairs. Shortly after that their bottles ran dry. 

"Who uses that much hairspray?" the Detective yelled as he and Rorschach sprinted to a window. 

The two crashed through a second story window and landed hard on the concrete pavement. Neither had long to recover before the police officers swarmed them. 

The two tried to fight their way out but they were overwhelmed. They pinned the Detective and Rorschach after a few minutes of fighting. 

The Detective felt blood fall from his head but he ignored that. Rorschach screams were too loud. 

He looked over and saw in horror that the police had removed Rorschach's mask. Rorschach struggled and screamed the only words that he was capable of in the face of such atrocity, "NOT MY FACE! NO! GIVE ME BACK MY FACE!"