Watchmen Part 1 of 12. Writer, Alan Moore. Illustrator, Dave Gibbons. Described by Liana Kerr https://twitter.com/lianaleslie Last modified March 2, 2015. Cover: A shiny splatter of blood over a black oval on a bright yellow background. Chapter 1. On the side of the page, there is a clock with no numbers, just a minute and hour hand indicating 11:49. The main image is of part of a circular yellow pin of a smiley face. A shiny spatter of fresh blood is to the left of the left eye, partially covering it up. It appears to be lying in a thick river of fresh blood. Page 1. Panel 1. We see that the smiley face pin is lying on the edge of a street, near a gutter, right next to the sidewalk. The blood flows over the sidewalk and street into the gutter. A label tells the reader that the following text is from Rorschach's journal, October 12th, 1985. The handwriting is simple print, rounded and even, and the panels have small dots of ink on the edges, which look like they've been torn. It starts, "Dog carcass in alley this morning, tire tread on burst stomach. This city is afraid of me. I have seen its true face." Panel 2. More of the gutter and sidewalk are shown. The pool of blood covers the top half of the panel, and the pin looks more like a small yellow disc next to the gutter. A man's feet are shown on the sidewalk in plain brown shoes, and nearby him is what looks like a white waterfall spilling onto the pool of blood. The journal continues, "The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are full of blood and when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown." Panel 3. The brown shoes belong to a man in a green trenchcoat. He's white, has short red hair and is walking with a large sign that reads "The End Is Nigh." Beside him is a stocky white man with his sleeves rolled up, wearing a white apron and coat and using a hose to clean off the sidewalk. The water from the hose hits the sidewalk near the other man's left foot as he walks along, turning the blood a diluted pink color as it drains into the gutter, past the smiley face pin. The man with the hose looks like he might be saying something angrily to the man with the sign. The journal continues, "The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up about their waists and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout 'Save us!'... And I'll look down and whisper 'No.'" Panel 4. We see the sidewalk scene from an even greater height. The blood spatter covers half of the sidewalk's width. The man with the hose remains on the edges of it, continuing to spray water on it, and the man with the sign continues walking, bloody footprints following him out of the pool of blood. Scattered on the sidewalk are three white papers, and two other people are walking along the sidewalk, avoiding the blood. A purple vehicle goes by. By now, the yellow pin is just a dot near the gutter. They are near a storefront labeled "Delicatessen", although only the first part of the word is visible, and it seems to be the first floor of a much larger building. The hose is coming from the deli's front door. The journal continues, "They had a choice, all of them. They could have followed in the footsteps of good men like my father, or President Truman. Decent men who believed in a day's work for a day's pay." Panel 5. We see the scene from three or four stories up, now. The man with the sign is continuing down the sidewalk, still leaving bloody footprints as he goes, and the man from the deli is still washing off the sidewalk. It's a large sidewalk, but there are just five other people on it. The vehicle from the previous panel turns out to be some sort of bus or truck, with an emblem on top of it of a circle enclosing a triangle. The building above the deli is tall and made of brick with large, plate-glass windows. The journal continues, "Instead they followed the droppings of lechers and communists and didn't realize that the trail led over a precipice until it was too late. Don't tell me they didn't have a choice." Panel 6. We now see the scene from higher up the building. Although it's hard to say just how many floors up we are, it looks like twenty, give or take a few. The glass of the window is broken, and a hand rests on it, avoiding the jagged edges of glass. On the sidewalk is the pool of blood, which now seems tiny, and a handful of people walking down the sidewalk past it and a nearby newsstand. The traffic continues. The journal continues, "Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloody hell, all those liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers... And all of a sudden, nobody can think of anything to say." Panel 7. This panel, as wide across as three of the previous panels, shows the whole street scene from several floors up. The traffic is heavy but not congested, with cars, buses and trucks passing by. There are other buildings, equally tall, on the other side of the street, and other people, nearly dots from this high up, walking on the other sidewalk. A man, white, black-haired and just starting to go bald at the back of his head, has his hands on the edge of the broken window and is looking down at the sidewalk. He is wearing a nondescript brown coat with a furry collar. He says, "Hmm. That's quite a *drop.*" Page 2. Panel 1. A large panel the size of two regular panels. The man at the window continues looking down at the street. He is a stocky guy, his coat so small on him that he can't buckle the belt, letting it hang at both sides of his waist. He's talking to another man in the apartment, a blond white man with a thin, craggy face who is wearing a trenchcoat and a loosely tied necktie. He's smoking a cigarette, its smoke rising in a thin line and curling up and over his head, and examining a chain lock on the apartment door which has been pulled off the door at the locked side. The door frame is broken as well, with the strike plate coming off partway. They are both in an apartment that looks as if it's been ransacked. There is debris and a picture on the green floor, and some pillows from a chair have fallen onto the floor. The broken window is one of four large panels, as if the entire wall facing the street was made of glass, and out the window other skyscrapers are visible. Just outside the apartment door, a policeman appears to be leaving the room. The second man, whose name is not given in this scene but is named Steven Fine, replies "Yeah. Poor guy. Y'know, I always *wonder*... Do you think you black out *before* you hit the sidewalk, or what?" The first man, who also is not named in this scene but is named Joe Bourquin, answers "Frankly, I don't need to know that bad. What do you think *happened* here?" Panel 2. Steven turns towards Joe, holding up the broken chain lock in one hand and holding up two fingers with the other hand. He says, "Well, looks like someone broke in by bustin' this *door* down. That would take either *two* guys or one guy on serious drugs, because the door had a *chain* fastened on the inside." Joe has stepped back from the window, but is still looking outside, both hands in his pockets. His face is weary and lined, and he has heavy eyebrows and a prominent nose. Panel 3. Steven continues, saying "... Which means that the occupant was *home* when it happened." The previous panels have been overwhelmingly cool-colored and had a more realistic look, but this one is luridly colored in shades of purplish-red. There is a booted foot kicking in the door, breaking the chain lock and the strike plate. The person inside the apartment is a large, muscular white man wearing a robe that leaves his forearms and legs bare. He's sitting in a chair facing the TV, holding a drink, with a bottle on the floor next to the chair and a porn magazine next to the bottle. He turns away from the evening news to look as the door is kicked in, an expression of surprise and dismay on his face. Panel 4. The two detectives face each other from across the room. The chair that the man had been sitting in is turned over and laying on its back, and the bottle and glass both spilled on the floor. There is a desk on the wall opposite a TV, with some papers and a picture on it, and a chair in front of it turned on its side. A door to another room is ajar, and there's a cabinet holding books and knickknacks on the wall by the front door. There's a set of golf clubs in the corner, and a broken mirror by the entertainment center. Joe holds one arm out as he walks towards Steven, saying "Hmm. I saw the *body*, an' he looked beefy enough to *protect* himself. For a guy his *age,* he was in *terrific* shape." Steven answers "What, you mean *apart* from being dead?" Panel 5. Joe answers "No... I mean this guy, this *Blake* guy, the *occupant*... He had muscles like a *weightlifter.* He would have put up *some* kinda fight, I'm *certain*." In the tones of bright purplish-red, Blake has just taken a punch from the gloved left hand of the unknown assailant. His head snaps to the side and his arms fly out to each side, and his head hits the wall, knocking over an illustration of a cheerful naked woman posing in front of a pulp-fiction style lunar landscape. A spurt of blood erupts from his mouth. Blake looks like he's in his fifties, with shiny, slicked-back brown hair that's turning grey in puffs around his temples and a small mustache. He has thick eyebrows, small eyes and a long scar running from the outside corner of his right eye to the right corner of his mouth. He's very powerfully built and hairy-chested. The only thing in the picture that isn't some shade of reddish-purple is the small yellow smiley-face pin that he wears on the edge of his robe, over his heart. Panel 6. Steven looks at the broken mirror, his face reflected in the jagged shards. The mirror looks like it was cracked right in the middle, with one part in the center where the glass has fallen off entirely, and the other cracks radiating from there. He says "Yeah, well, looks like he *lost*. Maybe it was a *couple* of guys and they just *overpowered* him." Joe is on the other side of the room, near the desk, and he's reflected in the jagged parts of the glass as he picks up the picture on the desk. He says "Maybe. The data we have suggests he's been doing some sort of overseas *diplomatic* work for years..." Panel 7. Steve continues "Lotta classy expense-account living. Maybe he just got *soft*." Blake's assailant is holding Blake by the front of his robe and bashing the back of his head into the mirror. Blake has his eyes closed and is grimacing. One of his bottom front teeth is missing and blood pours from his mouth. Panel 8. Examining the framed picture, Joe says "He don't look too soft in this *photograph*. Wonder how he got that *scar*? It looks... *Hey!* The guy he's *shakin' hands* with in the picture... It's *Vice-President Ford!*" The picture depicts the two men wearing suits and shaking hands in front of a row of other people and a backdrop of an American flag. Steven, still by the mirror, looks over at Joe. Page 3. Panel 1. Joe replies "*Hey*, so it *is!* Well, listen, between you and me, I think we can rule *him* out as a suspect. A job like this just isn't his *style.*" In the shades of lurid red, Blake is on the floor, trying to push himself up with one arm. Blood pours from his mouth onto the carpet. His eyes are squeezed shut and he looks like he's gasping. His assailant is beside him, visible from the knees down and wearing nondescript black pants. In the background is the window and beyond that are the other buildings of the city, their windows lit up. Panel 2. Joe replaces the picture on the desk, one hand in his pocket. Steven is standing near the door, both hands in the pocket of his trenchcoat, looking over his shoulder at Joe. There are two policemen just outside the door, one carrying a clipboard. Joe says "That'd be real funny if we had any *better* leads to go on. I mean, what *is* this? A little *money* got stolen, but no *way* is this a straight *burglary*... Panel 3. Joe continues, "Somebody really had it *in* for this guy." Blake is being held upright by the front of his robe. Blood covers his face and chest, his mouth hangs open, and he looks wearily at his attacker. His pin has been spattered with blood. Panel 4. The two detectives are going down the hallway, past an arrow-shaped sign marked "Elevators," towards the open elevator, which another man is getting onto. The other policeman stands guard stiffly outside the room, while a third passes them. Joe asks "I mean, how did he go outta the *window?*" Steven says "Maybe he *tripped* against it." Joe replies "Forget it. That's *strong glass,* man. You *trip* against it, even a big guy like *that,* it don't *break.*" Panel 5. Joe continues, "I think you'd have to be *thrown.*" We see the attacker hoisting Blake over his shoulder. Blake is limp, his robe draping off of him and his head bowed. He's so large we can't see any part of the assailant except for his legs. The assailant is facing the window. Panel 6. Steven says "Well, if this Edward Blake was as big as you *say* he was, then *one* guy would never *lift* him, so we're talking *two* assailants here." The man who boarded the elevator before Steve and Joe asks "Which floor ya want?" Joe answers "Oh, uh, ground floor, please," as he steps into the elevator. The man is wearing a hat with a little puff on the top, and is smoking a thin, futuristic pipe. Panel 7. A large panel the size of three regular panels. The man replies, "Ground floor comin' up." In lurid reds and black, Blake has just been thrown out of the window. Shards of glass fly as he splays out his arms and legs, looking back at his assailant in shock as he falls. His smiley face pin has come off his robe, and it flies in the air above him. We see only the forearms and hands of the assailant. In the background are the skyscrapers and lights of the city. Page 4. Panel 1. As the detectives step out of the elevator, Joe says "So look, you haven't answered my *question*... Is this a *burglary,* or do we look for some *other* motive?" Steven answers "Listen, it *could* have just been a burglary... Maybe a bunch'a *knot-tops* on *KT-28s* or *'luudes*..." Panel 2. Steven continues, "You know how it is... A lot of crazy things happen in a city this size. They don't *all* need motives." In lurid red, we see Blake falling, his back toward the ground and his arms and legs in front of him, shards of glass glittering around him. Panel 3. The two men leave the building by the front door. Joe says "So, what you're *saying* is..." Steven answers "I'm *saying* let's not raise too much *dust* over this one. We don't need any *masked avengers* getting interested and *cutting* in. Follow it up *discreetly,* sure. But in *public*..." In front of them is the newsstand, with two pirate comic books on display and an issue of the New York Times underneath them. The headline is "Vietnam 51st State" and the subheading is "Official." A boy is leaning against it, blowing a large bubble with chewing gum and reading a comic book named "Tales of the Black Freighter." He wears pins on his jacket and a hat with a logo of a T inside a circle on the front and stylized wings on each side. Panel 4. Steven continues, "...Well, what say we let this one drop out of *sight*?" In lurid red, Blake's body is falling headfirst through the air, shards of glass following him down. He's surrounded by the tall city buildings. Panel 5. A large panel the size of two regular panels. Steven and Joe are walking along the city sidewalk. They've passed the newsstand and are in front of an Indian fast-food restaurant named "Gunga Diner" that seems full of customers. The man carrying a sign has turned around, and is walking towards them. A police car passes them, and a couple of people pass them on the sidewalk. There's a taxi and some other cars on the other side of the street. All of the cars have a rounded, futuristic look. On the sidewalk on other side of the street, a well-dressed white woman and her daughter look nervous as they pass a sunglasses-wearing white punk with two horizontal lines on his forehead and his hair in a knot on the top of his head. An advertisement for Meltdowns is attached to a lamppost. Joe says "I dunno. I think you take this *vigilante* stuff too *seriously* since the *Keene Act* was passed in '77. Only the *government-sponsored weirdos* are active. They don't interfere." Steven says "Screw them. What about *Rorschach?*" Panel 6. Steven continues, "*Rorschach* never retired, even after him and his buddies fell out of grace. Rorschach's still *out* there somewhere." In lurid reds, we see a top-down view of the street, with Blake still falling. It is late at night or early in the morning, and there are just a handful of cars and people on the street. Panel 7. Steven continues "He's crazier than a snake's armpit and wanted on two counts *murder one*. We got a cozy little *homicide* here. If *he* gets involved, we'll be up to our *butts* in corpses... What's the matter?" Steven and Joe are walking side by side, Joe adjusting the collar of his coat, hunched over. A few feet in front of them, the man with the sign takes a look at his watch on his right hand. It is 11:00. Panel 8. Joe answers "Uh, nothing... Just a *shiver*. Must be gettin' a *cold.*" They pass the red-headed man with the sign, who looks fixedly ahead of him, his stare intense. He's very freckled and rather homely, and wears a necktie and fingerless gloves. The detectives walk past the Indian restaurant, towards another building half hidden in shadow with an advertisement on it. Some birds fly in the sky above it. Page 5. Panel 1. It's nighttime, and the moon is full, rising above the same building from the previous panel. The advertisement which was previously hidden in shadow turns out to be for a candy, mmeltdowns, and is a cartoony image of an atomic cloud with candy bursting from it. We see the fedora of a man standing in front of the Indian restaurant. There is an airship flying in the sky. Panel 2. The man, wearing a trenchcoat and holding his hands in his pockets, looks towards the gutter. Only his shadow is visible on the sidewalk. The blood is cleaned off of the sidewalk, but there's some on the street by the gutter. The little yellow smiley face pin is still there. Panel 3. The man stoops next to the gutter and picks up the pin, holding it in the palm of his hand. He is wearing gloves and dark, pinstriped pants. Panel 4. We see the man's head and shoulders as he holds the pin in his hand in front of him, but the full moon is at his back and his entire face is in shadow. Panel 5. The man looks at the building where Blake lived. There are many windows, but most of the lights seem to be off. Panel 6. The man pulls back one side of his trenchcoat a few inches with one hand, and with the other hand takes a grappling gun out of it. Panel 7. The man stands at the edge of the sidewalk and fires the grappling gun up at the building. There are no cars or people passing by. The gun goes off with a burst of smoke. Panel 8. The hooked end of the grappling gun soars over the windowsill and into the apartment. There are still shards of jagged glass on the edges of the window. Panel 9. The man holds onto the line and climbs up the building. Page 6. Panel 1. A large panel the size of six regular panels. The man sits on the edge of the windowsill, holding onto the sides of the window. On his face, he wears a white mask that is covered with black, symmetrical patches. The grappling hook is next to him, still hooked on the windowsill. The picture of the naked woman has been propped up, and there's a large blood stain over her abdomen and crotch. The chair that was overturned has been put back in position. There are still shards of broken glass and splotches of blood on the ground and furniture. The lights of the city shine blue through the unbroken panes of glass, and are yellow when seen through the broken window with no glass. Underneath this panel is the title of this chapter: At Midnight, All The Agents... Panel 2. The man steps into the room, holding a flashlight in one hand. Panel 3. He shines the light into the corner of the room, seeing the door to the other room that is ajar. Panel 4. He opens this door and shines the flashlight inside, looking at the bed. The pattern on his mask has changed. It's still white with symmetrical black splotches, but the splotches have moved to form a different pattern. Panel 5. He kneels, placing the flashlight on the floor to free up his hands, and looks through the bottom drawer of a chest of drawers. Page 7. Panel 1. The man has apparently looked through all the drawers, as all four rows of drawers are now open and clothes hang off the sides. He is looking at the closet now, the flashlight still on the floor. Panel 2. He reaches inside the closet with his left arm. There are wire hangers on the rod, but no clothes on them. He touches the inside of the closet. His arm is bent. The pattern on his mask has changed again. It appears to be changing slightly between every panel. Panel 3. He uses his right arm to press the back of the wall, outside the closet, and says "Hunh." The borders of his speech bubbles are twisted and jagged, almost like gears, but warped and messier. His arm is fully extended. Panel 4. He takes a hanger and untwists the wire. Panel 5. He uses the hanger to measure the depth of the closet from the outside. It appears to be about three feet deep. Panel 6. He uses the hanger to measure the closet from the inside. From the inside, it appears to be about two feet deep. Panel 7. He feels around in the back of the closet. Panel 8. He finds a small button near the top right of the closet back. His finger hovers over it as he says "Ehh." Panel 9. He opens the door to the hidden panel of the closet. Page 8. Panel 1. A large panel the size of two regular panels. On the back of the closet, hidden by the false closet back, is hung up an array of items. From left to right, there's a photograph, most of which is obscured by the false closet back, a large knife, a piece of clothing and a mask, a piece of armor and an Uzi and ammo. The clothing looks like a black shirt with black leather suspender-like belts crisscrossing the chest and shoulders. It has short sleeves, one blue, one red and white striped. The armor is blue and circular, designed to fit over the blue sleeve and protect one shoulder, and has a giant white star on it. The mask is designed to cover the entire head, and has rectangular holes for the eyes and mouth and a buckle around the neck. The man looks at these items. Panel 2. The man reaches out for the items. Panel 3. He takes the mask down from its hook and slips it over one hand, looking at it. Panel 4. He tosses it to the floor and takes down the gun, loading it. Panel 5. He takes the shirt off of its hanger, holding it out in front of him with both hands. It is attached to a pair of pants with multiple holsters around the belt for guns. Next to him is a pair of calf-high boots. Panel 6. He takes down the picture. Only part of it is visible, a pair of men's legs and one leg of a woman. Panel 7. He looks at the picture. It is a group of costumed superheroes. Only about 3/4ths of the picture can be seen, with six people visible. On the far left, there is a white woman in a black jumpsuit with bobbed black hair. Next to her is a white man in a moth costume with giant Ms on his chest, a moth-shaped belt buckle and giant moth wings. Next to him is a white man with a wide smile who wears a cape and a giant dollar sign on his chest. Next to him, and slightly in front of the other standing people, is a white man with a short-sleeved shirt and briefs whose belt buckle is in the shape of a moon. He is standing with both hands on his hips. Next to him is a white man with a thick belt, and in front of the last two is a white man who is kneeling and has a wide smile. The woman and the man whose legs were visible in the previous panel are covered up. Panel 8. The man has spread the clothes, armor, gloves, boots, knife and gun out on the floor in front of him. Still standing, he looks down at them, touching his hand to his face, and says "Hurm." Page 9. Panel 1. A close-up of the face of the man in the middle of the picture from the previous page. He is wearing a domino mask that covers only his eyes, and his costume covers the top of his head, his ears and his neck, leaving his face visible. The costume seems to make half-circles over his eyebrows, joined at a point in the middle of his forehead, and his shirt has a tall collar that flares out into two points at each side. He has a confident smile and looks like a proper comic book hero, with a strong jaw, thick neck, a handsome nose and sharp, tall cheekbones. A line of smoke is rising to the side, over the picture. Someone says "So, there I was in the supermarket buyin' *dogfood* for ol' *Phantom* here, I turn the corner of the aisle and *wham!* I bump into the *Screaming Skull!* You *remember* him?" Panel 2. The picture is hung on a wall, over a framed newspaper article. The article appears to be the front page of a paper, and the headline is "Hero Retires." The subtitle is "Opens Own Auto Business." To the left of both pictures is a lamp. The smoke wafts up between the newspaper article and the lamp, crossing the picture. Another voice answers "I think I heard you *mention* him..." The first voice says "Oh, I put him away a dozen times in the *forties,* but he *reformed* an' turned to *Jesus* since then. Married, got two kids... We traded addresses. Nice guy." Panel 3. The two voices belong to two men, sitting in chairs by the fireplace facing each other. They seem to be in shadow, and it's hard to make out too many details of their appearance. The man on the left seems to be in his late 30s or early 40s. He's white, wears glasses and his hair is slicked back, curling over the back of his neck, and he wears a long coat. The man on the right is older, white, perhaps in his late 60s, wearing a cardigan and smoking a cigarette. There is a dog sleeping on the floor between them, and the fire is blazing brightly. On top of the fireplace is a clock that reads 11:55, and next to that is the lamp. There are three smaller photographs of people posing together near the first photograph and the framed newspaper article, although none of the details can be made out. The man on the left grasps the arm of his chair and says "Uh, Hollis, listen... It's almost midnight. I oughtta *go.*" Hollis replies, "Oh, sure. Lost track o'the time there, talking 'bout all that old stuff. You musta been bored as hell." Panel 4. A large panel the size of two regular panels. The two men stand up, and more of the room they are in is visible. In the foreground is a shelf, with something covered by a dome that's not visible, a statuette of the same figure in the group photograph standing on a base that reads "In Gratitude," a set of three nesting dolls painted with an owl pattern, and some books, propped up with an owl bookend. The titles that are visible are "Under The Hood," by Hollis J. Mason, another copy of the same book, "Automobile Maintenance" and "Gladiator" by Wylie, with the first name not visible. There is a chest of drawers by the window, covered with a fringed square of fabric. The dog raises its head as the men stand up. The younger man buttons up his jacket and says "You know better than *that.* These Saturday night *beer sessions* are what keeps me *going.*" Hollis stands up, a little more stooped over than the other man, and replies "Yeah, well, us old retired guys gotta stick together. Lemme put this out and I'll be right with you." Panel 5. The two men stand near the open door. Now that they're in better light, it's obvious that Hollis is the same man that was in the picture in Panel 1. He's much older, but still has the same smile and handsome face. His grey hair is neatly brushed back. He looks affectionately at the other man as he holds the door open and says "Y'know, it was a cryin' shame they put you youngsters out to grass in '77. You were a better *Nite Owl* than I *ever* was." The other man puts his hand on Hollis' shoulder and, smiling, says "Hollis, we *both* know that's bullshit, but thanks *anyway*." Panel 6. As the first man steps outside and starts going down the stairs, Hollis makes a fist and says "Hey, watch with the *language!* This is the left hook that floored *Captain Axis,* remember?" He's illuminated by the light coming from inside his home, his posture is tall and proud, and he looks much younger than he actually is. The other man, now in shadow, puts one hand on the railing and waves to Hollis with the other hand, and says "How could I *forget.* Thanks for another great night, Hollis. Take *care* of yourself." On the side of the stairs is graffiti reading "Pale Horse," and on the side of the building is the word "Mason's," covered in spots with graffiti of random squiggles and a starburst. Panel 7. Hollis, standing at the top of the stairs, waves casually and says "You *too*, Danny. God bless." Dan walks down the stairs, past the garage. On top of the garage is a sign reading "Mason's Auto Repairs." The shutter is covered with graffiti. There are more random squiggles, another starburst, the words "Pale Horse" and the question "Who Watches The Watchmen?" Part of the phrase is cut off. There is some litter on the ground, and the building looks old. Panel 8. Dan walks down the sidewalk, both hands in his pockets, past a sign with a cartoonish mechanic holding a huge wrench, giving a thumbs up and saying with a smile, "We fix'em!" Above it is a flipboard that currently reads "Closed." Underneath the mechanic are the words "Obsolete Models A Specialty." One of the pieces of litter is a stained takeout box from Gunga Diner, and a poster for Pale Horse is pasted on the building. Page 10. Panel 1. Dan, walking with a slight slouch and his hands in his pockets, passes a show window advertising the '86 Buick, rounded cars with square headlights. A foot ahead of him is a bullet-shaped object, perhaps a foot and a half high, that is a "spark hydrant," a charging port for electric cars. There are a few cars in the streets, and on the other side of the street two people are walking by. The man is white, wears a jacket with the arms cut off and the words "Pale Horse" on the back, and he carries a giant boombox on his shoulder. He's wearing sunglasses and his hair is pulled back into a tight knot on the back of his head. He has his arm around a woman whose hair is also pulled into a knot. She's white, wears stacks of bracelets and chokers, has a swastika tattoo on her shoulder and is smoking a cigarette in a long holder. The smoke drifts behind them, and his boombox blares "... Look down your back stairs, buddy, somebody's living there an' they don't really feel the weather..." The two are passing a newspaper box, and the newspaper headline reads "Russia protests U.S. advances in Afghanistan." Panel 2. Dan rounds a corner, past the light of the streetlamp, near a store named "Treasure Island." It has a model ship and treasure chest in the window and rows of books. Above it is a billboard for Nostalgia, with a smiling woman holding something on it. There are only two other people in the scene, walking the opposite direction, and a car and a bus. Panel 3. Dan is walking down the sidewalk in what seems like a nicer area of town, with no litter, trees enclosed by fences and more streetlights. In the background a zeppelin flies overhead, and in the foreground is a row of stairs. Near the door of one of them is a plate showing the residents of the apartment building, and floors 1-4 belong to Dreiberg, D. There are three floors above that. The door seems to be broken, and is slightly ajar. Panel 4. Dan reaches his door and looks at the broken door frame, the strike plate hanging slightly to the side. Panel 5. Dan opens the door and stands at the frame. The room is dark, but a single shaft of light cuts across the carpet. Panel 6. Dan strides towards the shaft of light, which is coming from a slightly opened door inside his apartment. His arms are to his sides and his hands are curled into fists. Panel 7. Dan peeks through the door and his mouth curls down into a look of dismay. On the wall next to him is a calendar, turned to October, and underneath that is the light switch. From offscreen, we see the twisted and jagged speech bubbles of the man who first appeared in Page 5. He makes the sound "Chlop." Then the sound "Thlup." Panel 8. Dan opens the door a little bit more, looking unhappy. Above him is a digital clock, and on the kitchen counter is a spice rack. We only see the elbow of the man from before, next to the can of beans that he was eating. The can's lid is still attached, and some beans are on the table. The label reads "Heinz Baked Beans 58." The man at the table makes the sound "Shorp." Then "Lep." Then says "Hello, Daniel." Panel 9. The man at the table is digging into another can of beans with a spoon. His mask is pulled partially over his nose, exposing his nose and mouth but not his eyes. He is sitting with his back to Dan. There's a can opener on the table next to the empty can of beans. He says "Got hungry waiting. Helped myself to some beans. Hope you don't mind." Dan, staring at him, says "Rorschach...?" Page 11. Panel 1. Dan, looking chagrined, says "Uh... That is, *no!* No, of *course* I don't mind... Uh... You want me to heat those *up* for you or anything...?" Rorschach lifts another spoonful of baked beans to his mouth with a gloved hand and says "No need. Fine like this." Underneath the mask, his face is unshaven, and bean juice covers his lips and chin. He's white and has a long space between his nose and mouth. There are deep wrinkles around his mouth and chin. Panel 2. Dan, still standing and starting to take off his jacket, says "So, uh... Long time no *see!* How have you been keeping?" Rorschach stands up, pulling his mask down over his face. Panel 3. Dan removes his jacket. He is wearing a suit and tie underneath. As Dan removes his jacket, he looks down with dismay as Rorschach throws the smiley face pin onto the table, It lands with a thud and bounces in front of Dan. Rorschach says "Out of prison. So far. Take a look at this." Panel 4. Dan takes the pin and examines it with both hands. It smiles back at him, its little drop of blood still covering one eye. Dan says "Uh... What *is* it? This little *stain*, is that *bean juice*, or...?" Rorschach stands with his back to Dan, opening up a canister over the counter. Panel 5. The canister is labeled "Sugar" and filled with little green sugar cubes each marked with an S. Rorschach spills them out onto the counter. He says "That's right. Human bean juice. Ha ha. Badge belonged to the Comedian. Blood too. He's dead." Dan looks at Rorschach, framed by Rorschach's arm pouring out the sugar cubes. Panel 6. Dan, holding the pin in one hand and gesturing with the other, says "*Dead*? What, you're talking about *the* Comedian?" Rorschach pushes some of the sugar cubes off the counter and into the pocket of his trenchcoat. He says "Investigated a routine homicide. Victim named Edward Blake. Found the costume in Blake's wardrobe. Seems he was the Comedian. Somebody threw him out of a window." Panel 7. Dan and Rorschach are seen through the window in Dan's kitchen. Dan is opening a door, Rorschach following him with both hands in his pockets. Dan looks back at him and says "Somebody...? Uh, listen, maybe we could talk about this down in my *workshop.* I feel kinda *exposed* up here. Also, that way you can use the hidden rear exit. Uh, when you *leave*, that is." Panel 8. A large panel the size of two regular panels. The two men go down a flight of stairs into a large, dark room with a high ceiling. There are exposed pipes and oil drums, and water splashes from the ceiling into pools on the floor. Something large is covered up by fabric, and we can only make out a large, round glass window. Dan says "Right down this way. Uh, you haven't been *down* here for a while..." Page 12. Panel 1. Rorschach stands near the railing, running one finger over the large covered object. He says "Neither have you. Lot of dust." Dan stands a few feet away, his back to the railing, looking away from Rorschach. He supports himself with one hand on the railing and fidgets with his tie as he says "Yeah, well, y'know. Sometimes I come and sit down here for a while. But there doesn't seem much *point* since I retired. Listen, about the *Comedian*..." Panel 2. A large panel the size of two regular panels. Dan puts one hand in his pocket and gestures with the other. He says "*Might* it just have been an ordinary *burglary* or something? Maybe the killer didn't know who Blake *was*..." Rorschach, both hands in his pockets, walks past Dan, and says "An ordinary burglar? Kill the Comedian? Ridiculous." Panel 3. Dan, still standing by the railing, looks down by his feet and says "Hmm. I guess it *doesn't* seem very *likely.* I heard he'd been working for the *government* since '77, knocking over Marxist republics in *South America*... Maybe this was a *political* killing?" Rorschach faces away from him, towards the reader. His face is in shadow, but the blotches on his mask are visible. Panel 4. Rorschach replies "Maybe. Or maybe someone's picking off costumed heroes." The pattern on his mask has changed. Dan looks towards him and, smiling somewhat indulgently, says "Um. Don't you think that's maybe a little *paranoid*?" Panel 5. Rorschach says "That's what they're saying about me now? That I'm paranoid?" The pattern on his mask has changed yet again. He continues, "The Comedian was active for forty years. Men make a lot of enemies in that time. How's your friend Hollis Mason these days?" Dan looks dismayed. Panel 6. A large panel the size of two regular panels. Dan puts out both of his hands and, facing Rorschach's back, says "*Hollis?* What does he...?" Rorschach faces away from Dan, hands in his pockets, says "They were both Minutemen, when Blake was sixteen and Mason was the first Nite Owl. That book Mason wrote. He said some bad things about the Comedian in it." In this panel, we're looking down at the two men from near the ceiling, and we can see just how dirty and unmaintained the space looks. Near Dan is a closet that has his old costume in it, a brown outfit with an owl-shaped mask. Panel 7. Dan points at Rorschach with one hand, his other hand curling into a fist, and says "Rorschach, I don't like what you're *implying* here. Hollis is an *old man.* If you're thinking about going over there and *scaring* him..." Rorschach, still facing away from Dan, replies "Implying nothing. Just an observation." Next to Dan, we see part of his old costume in profile. It comes to a point in the front at the forehead and has goggles around the neck. Page 13. Panel 1. Rorschach goes down a small flight of stairs, both hands in his pockets, and Dan follows him. Rorschach says "Anyway, thought I'd let you know. In case somebody's gunning for masks. Better go now. Things to do." Dan replies "Yeah, well, the tunnel brings you out in a *warehouse* two blocks *north*..." Panel 2. Rorschach, still facing away from Dan and walking away, says "Yes. I remember. Used to come here often. Back when we were partners." Dan, walking behind him and gesturing with one hand, says "Oh. Uh, yeah... Yeah, those were great times, Rorschach. *Great* times. Whatever *happened* to them?" Panel 3. Rorschach, taking the first step into a long, dark tunnel lined with dim red lights on the ceiling, answers "You quit." Dan stands a few paces behind him, hands in his pockets, watching him leave. Panel 4. Rorschach continues walking down the tunnel, getting smaller and smaller. Dan hangs his head. Panel 5. A large panel the size of six regular panels. Dan sits on a wooden box next to the closet where his old outfit is stored. He's taken off his glasses and they dangle from the fingers of his left hand, and in his left hand he holds the Comedian's smiley face button. He's unbuttoned his suit jacket and loosened his necktie, and he's hunched over. His hair, usually slicked back and tidy, has several locks coming loose near his forehead. His eyes are closed, his eyebrows drawn together and his mouth slightly open, and he looks pained and miserable. His old costume is in the closet beside him, almost looking as if it's standing rigidly on its own. It has an owl-shaped cowl that covers all of his head but his face, goggles hanging around the neck, a owl-shaped cloak and tall boots. A belt and scarf hang inside the cloak. Page 14. Panel 1. A large panel the size of three regular panels. Rorschach is sitting on a chimney, both knees together, hunched over a book that he's writing in with his left hand. He's on the roof of some building, and in the background are the roofs of other buildings, a large dome and the skyscrapers of the city. The sun is setting, and there are clouds and smog hanging in the distance, with a few birds flying far beyond him. A label tells the reader that the following text is from Rorschach's journal, October 13th, 1985. Panel 2. Rorschach continues writing in his journal. The sky is turning red around him, and some more birds fly in the distance. The journal reads, "Slept all day. Awoken at 4:37. Landlady complaining about smell. She has five children by five different fathers. I am sure she cheats on welfare. Soon it will be dark." Panel 3. Rorschach tucks the journal in the front of his coat and walks towards the edge of the building, near a fire escape. His journal reads, "Beneath me, this awful city, it screams like an abattoir full of retarded children. New York. On Friday night, a comedian died in New York." Panel 4. He squats near the edge of the building, looking down at the street. One of the windows has a sign in it, "Stick With Dick in '84." The journal continues, "Somebody knows why. Down there... Somebody knows." Panel 5. Rorschach's shadow falls over the sidewalk. There's litter on the sidewalk and street, and there's a newspaper on the ground with the headline "Congress Approves Lunar Silos." Across the store is a building with a sign that says "Happy Harry's." On the windows are the words "Bar" and "Grill." The door has bars on it, and there's graffiti on the front saying "Viet Bronx." The journal continues "The dusk reeks of fornication and bad consciences." Panel 6. A large panel the size of two regular panels. The journal continues, "I believe I shall take my exercise." Rorschach stands in the open door of Happy Harry's, hands in his pockets, looking at the people inside. It's a dark, seedy place filled with customers. At the bar is a man nursing a beer, a man dressed in a flashy suit smoking a long, futuristic looking pipe and a woman with a short, backless dress. Sitting at a table near the front is an older knot-top with a thin, angry face and an older man with an eyepatch and a thin mustache. Behind them is another table with a knot-top and a man in a ski hat and hood. Near the windows is a man playing pool. Page 15. Panel 1. People at a nearby table stop to stare, open-mouthed, at Rorschach as he walks by. A woman is slumped over the table, seemingly passed out, and the man in sunglasses behind her and the larger man behind him both look worried. Rorschach takes no notice of them. Panel 2. He walks up to the bar. The bartender, a balding, genial-looking fat white man wearing a bowtie, an apron and a towel over his shoulder, nearly lets his cigarette fall out of his mouth as he sees Rorschach approaching. He stares wide-eyed at Rorschach and looks petrified as he stammers "Ruh. Ror. Ror. *Rorschach!* Har har how ya *doin'*, fella?" Panel 3. Rorschach replies, "I'm fine, Happy Harry. Yourself?" Behind him, scared faces stare at the two. Panel 4. Happy Harry pastes an unnaturally cheerful smile on his face, but his forehead is wrinkled and his eyes are wide. He adjusts his bowtie and holds his cigarette with his other hand as he replies "*Fine!* I'm fuh, I'm *fine!* And I'm, and I'm, and I'm glad *you're* fine, too! And uh, and uh..." Bottles and upside-down glasses gleam behind him. Panel 5. Happy Harry brings his hands to his face and pulls at his cheeks, looking imploringly at Rorschach and dripping with sweat. He says, in tiny type, "Oh, God. Please don't kill anybody." Rorschach's mask is reflected in the mirror behind him. Panel 6. Rorschach says "Guy went sidewalk diving, Friday night. I don't think he was alone when it happened. Name was Edward Blake. Friend of mine." The pool players have stopped to listen, and everyone's head is turned towards him. In the foreground, a man with a hat that almost covers his glasses puffs on a long, thin cigarette holder with a ball near the tip, and a man with a Pale Horse jacket watches the scene at the bar. Panel 7. Behind Rorschach, a tough looking blond white man with a flat nose and one front tooth missing jabs his thumb back at the bar and says "Hey, you hear *that*? He's got *friends!* Musta changed his *deodorant!*" The man sitting across from him scowls and says "Steve, for God's sake, man, shut *up*..." Panel 8. Steve, looking self-satisfied, takes a long drink from his mug of beer. Rorschach turns and starts walking towards the two. The man sitting across from Steve looks up at Rorschach, his mouth open. Panel 9. The man sitting aside from Steve gets up and, moving behind Rorschach, says "I -- I gotta take a *leak*..." Steve looks ahead of him, a blank, stupid expression on his face. Rorschach is standing right behind him, now, towering over him. Page 16. Panel 1. Steve turns around to face Rorschach. Rorschach looks down at Steve, and Steve looks back, suddenly worried and pleading, extending one hand in a conciliatory gesture. He says "H-Hey! Hey, I didn't *mean* anything... I, uh, I haven't *been* in the apple too long, and I..." Panel 2. Rorschach is now standing beside Steve. He has one hand on top of the man's left wrist, and holds Steve's little finger in his other hand. Steve looks at his hand and says "... I, uh... Hey, what...?" Panel 3. Rorschach, still holding the man's wrist, bends the finger back in one quick motion. Steve knocks his beer over with his other arm and screams, staring at his hand with his mouth and eyes wide open. Panel 4. Rorschach looks around and, still holding Steve's arm up, announces to the bar, "I've just broken this gentleman's little finger. Who killed Edward Blake?" Steve leans back and moans "Oh. Ouhh..." The bar patrons look on in silence. Panel 5. Three of the people in the bar, a bald man with sunglasses, a woman with a thick neck and a masculine face and a burly man behind them smoking a pipe, look on in horror, sweat dripping from their faces. Panel 6. Rorschach bends back a second finger. Steve screams and Rorschach says "... And his index finger. Who killed Edward Blake?" Panel 7. One of the pool players, a man with a huge mustache, gigantic sideburns and a squishy looking hat, says "Please... Please, we don't *know*... Aw, *God*, man, leave him *alone*..." The man who had been sitting with Steve looks on wide-eyed, sweat dropping from his forehead. Panel 8. Rorschach stands over Steve, who is writhing on the ground. Rorschach is still holding the man's wrist, and with his other hand touches his mask thoughtfully. He says "Hurm." The narration from his journal says "First visit of evening fruitless. Nobody knew anything. Feel slightly depressed. This city is dying of rabies. Is the best I can do to wipe random flecks of foam from its lips?" Panel 9. Rorschach leaves the bar, pushing the door open dramatically, as everyone watches him leave and the pool player picks Steve off the ground. Rorschach's journal continues, "Never despair. Never surrender. I leave the human cockroaches to discuss their heroin and child pornography. I have business elsewhere with a better class of person." Page 17. Panel 1. The rain is coming down in torrents, though the zeppelins still fly. In the foreground is the dome, and next to it a skyscraper taller than any others in the background. It is shaped like an obelisk, has a clock at its base that is reading 10:00, a row of windows above that that reaches nearly to the top, and the Veidt logo at the top. The V is larger than the rest of the word. From near the top of the skyscraper comes the dialogue, "The Comedian dead? But *why*?" Panel 2. A large panel the size of two regular panels. Rorschach and another man are inside a gigantic room decorated with Egyptian-style columns, a huge plate-glass window that covers an entire wall from floor to ceiling, and a floor almost as reflective as a mirror. The plate glass mirror is a large rectangle, surrounded by smaller squares all around its edge. There are some pieces of art along the sides of the wall, notably a large urn and a Pharoah's crown, but the floor is empty of all furniture or decoration except a large desk near the window. There are some items on the desk, but from this distance they cannot be made out. Rorschach stands near the window, and the other man is standing between the window and the desk, looking out the window. Rorschach says "You were always supposed to be world's smartest man, Veidt. You tell me." Panel 3. Veidt, the man Rorschach is talking to, is a handsome blond white man with small eyes, chiseled cheekbones and expressive eyebrows, wearing a turtleneck under a purple suit. He furrows his brows and says "I never claimed to be anybody special. I just have some over-enthusiastic *P.R. men.* Listen... could it have been a *political killing*? Maybe the *Soviets*..." Rorschach is standing behind him now, holding his fedora in front of him in both hands. The mask appears to cover his whole head. There is some sort of action figure on the desk behind Veidt. Panel 4. Rorschach sits on the desk, leaning an arm on it and keeping one foot on the ground. On the desk is a computer, a pen stand, Rorschach's hat and three little action figures. Veidt walks back towards the desk, his hands clasped behind his back and his head turned slightly towards Rorschach. Rorschach says "Dreiberg said same thing. Don't believe it. America has Dr. Manhattan. Reds have been running scared since '65. They'd never dare antagonize us. I think we've got a mask-killer." Panel 5. Veidt, facing away from Rorschach, says "Not *necessarily.* The Comedian had plenty of *other* political enemies to choose from, even *discounting* the Russians... The man was practically a *Nazi.*" Rorschach, sitting on the desk still, picks up one of the action figures and moves the arm. It is a figure of a blond man wearing a tunic and wide neck piece. Another action figure sits next to Rorschach. Panel 6. Veidt is standing next to a poster of an upside-down man balanced on one hand on a ball. The man is wearing the same outfit the action figures are. On the poster is the same Veidt logo that was on the skyscraper, and underneath is written, partially hidden by Veidt and the panel edge, "Ozymandias In India ... Famine Relief" Veidt is holding one arm close to him, around his waist, and touching his lips thoughtfully with his other hand, looking to the side. Rorschach says "He stood up for his country. Veidt. He never let anybody retire him. Never cashed in on his reputation." Panel 7. Rorschach, still sitting on the table, holds out the action figure towards Veidt, who is still standing a few feet away, looking away. He says "Never set up a company selling posters and diet books and toy soldiers based on himself. Never became a prostitute. If that makes him a Nazi, you might as well call me a Nazi too." Panel 8. Veidt, holding his chin, looks up, away from Rorschach, furrowing his brows and smiling slightly, as if an idea has struck him. He says "Hm." Behind him, Rorschach stands up and puts on his hat. Page 18. Panel 1. Veidt turns to Rorschach, who is now standing by the window, pulling his grappling gun from his coat. Veidt says "Rorschach... I *know* we were never *friends*, but even so, you're being *unfair.* *Nobody* retired me. I *chose* to quit adventuring and go *public* two years *before* the police strike made the *Keene Act* necessary." Panel 2. Rorschach opens one of the smaller square windows and steps out the window. He turns to Veidt as he goes and says "Yes. Good timing. I came here to warn you about the mask-killer so you didn't end up the smartest man in the morgue. But I guess there's worse things to end up as. Be seeing you." Panel 3. The top of Rorschach's grappling hook is hooked into the open window, and the line is pulled straight down. Veidt stands at the window, looking down with his hands in his pockets, and says "Sure. Have a nice day." Panel 4. A large panel the size of six regular panels. Veidt has closed the window, and stands there, looking out the window, with his hands behind his back. The buildings of the city are lined up around him, and a zeppelin flies in the distance as the rain continues to pour. On his desk are three action figures in different poses, each wearing loose purple tunics, gold pants and sleeves, a gold belt and a gold collar with an Egyptian-esque pattern on it. The one that Rorschach was playing with is twisted unnaturally, but the other two are standing and sitting. They have the same blond hair and good looks as Veidt. There are also the boxes the toys came in, labeled Ozymandias and bearing the same Veidt logo as was on the poster and skyscraper. The nameplate at the desk is made of some cracked stone and says, in gold, Adrian Veidt: President. The pen stand has a Egyptian design and holds two pens between a statue of a Pharoah's head. The computer is on and is displaying some text. It, too, is branded with the Veidt logo. There is a newspaper in the middle of the desk, the New York Gazette. The headline is "Nuclear Doomsday Clock Stands At Five To Twelve Warn Experts." Another, smaller headline reads "Geneva Talks: U.S. Refuses To Discuss Dr. Manhattan." Page 19. Panel 1. A label shows that the following text is from Rorschach's journal, October 13th, 1985, 8:30 PM. Light from a flashlight shines on a large sign saying "Rockefeller Military Research Center." Next to the text is a shield-like logo, and underneath, the text "Founded 1981." An arrow-shaped image is marked "Entrance." Behind the sign is a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. Some leaves fall in front of the sign, and it is still raining. Panel 2. Rorschach walks onto the base through a hole in the fence. The buildings are futuristic and rounded, and lit up. Rorschach keeps his flashlight in front of him as he continues. From his journal, "Meeting with Veidt left bad taste in mouth. He is pampered and decadent, betraying even his own shallow, liberal affectations. Possibly homosexual? Must remember to investigate further." Panel 3. Rorschach is hiding in the shadows between two buildings in the background, and in the foreground are a soldier's boots as he patrols the area. From Rorschach's journal, "Dreiberg as bad. A flabby failure who sits whimpering in his basement. Why are so few of us left active, healthy, and without personality disorders?" Panel 4. The guard, wearing a helmet and holding a gun, looks forward. Behind him, Rorschach runs, keeping his body down and close to the ground. His journal continues, "The first Nite Owl runs an auto-repair shop. The first Silk Spectre is a bloated, aging whore, dying in a Californian rest resort. Captain Metropolis was decapitated in a car crash back in '74." Panel 5. Rorschach has reached a door in the back of a building, illuminated by a light above it. The writing on the glass window on the door reads "Special Talent Quarters, Private." Rorschach stands just at the edge of where the light falls, his shadow falling behind him. His journal continues, "Mothman's in an asylum up in Maine. The Silhouette retired in disgrace, murdered six weeks later by a minor adversary seeking revenge. Dollar Bill got shot. Hooded Justice went missing in '55." Panel 6. Rorschach breaks the glass window on the door and reaches for the doorknob on the inside, opening the door. It is completely dark inside. His journal continues "The Comedian is dead." Panel 7. Rorschach walks down a dark corridor to a thick steel door that reads "Clearance 2 Only. Keep Out." From his journal, "Only two names remaining on my list. Both share private quarters at Rockefeller Military Research Center. I shall go to them." Panel 8. Rorschach's hat and coat are soaking wet. He pushes the door open. From his journal, "I shall go and tell the indestructible man that someone plans to murder him." Panel 9. As Rorschach opens the door fully and steps into the next room, we see him from the shoulders up, looking up at something. A speech bubble comes from the top of the panel. It has a white border, but on the inside it is light blue. Someone says "Good evening, Rorschach." Page 20. Panel 1. A large vertical panel the size of three regular panels. Rorschach looks up at a gigantic, blue, muscular naked man. Rorschach only reaches to the middle of the man's calf muscle. The man is working at some huge machine, touching a spot on it with the index finger of his left hand. The spot where he touches glows in a white circle. The man is bald and has deep-set, entirely white eyes with dark shadows underneath them and a slight frown on his face. On his forehead is a hydrogen atom symbol, with a dot for the proton surrounded by a circle. On the circle, immediately above the middle dot, is a second dot for the electron. He is looking down at Rorschach, who is dripping water onto the floor. He closes the door and says "Good evening, Dr. Manhattan." Behind Dr. Manhattan is an attractive, normal-sized woman in her late 20s or early 30s, standing with her arms crossed and looking at Rorschach. She is white, brunette and wearing a pink tunic cinched with a thick black belt and black pants. Panel 2. Dr. Manhattan turns towards Rorschach, his body apparently starting to get smaller. The woman walks behind Dr. Manhattan, pointing at Rorschach and looking angry. She says "What are *you* doing here, Rorschach? This is a *government* base and I hear you're wanted by the *police.*" Rorschach, standing with his hands in his pockets, says "Ehh. Good evening, Miss Jupiter." Panel 3. In front of the woman, Dr. Manhattan is bending over, shrinking. The woman answers, "That's *Juspeczyk.* *'Jupiter'* was just a name my *mother* assumed because she didn't want anyone to know she was *Polish.* You haven't answered my *question.*" She still has one hand out pointing at Rorschach, and her other hand is balled into a fist. Panel 4. Dr. Manhattan is continuing to shrink, and the woman still stands behind him, looking at Rorschach. Rorschach answers, "Apologies. Came to warn you both and bring bad news. The Comedian is dead." Page 21. Panel 1. Dr. Manhattan, now at a normal size, although notably taller than Rorschach and about a head taller than the woman, puts out a hand in a gesture of explanation and says, in his blue speech bubbles, "Yes. Since he and I are the only two *extranormal operatives* currently employed by the government, I was informed on Saturday morning. I understand the C.I.A. suspects the *Libyans* were responsible." Rorschach still stands by the door, hands in his pockets, facing Dr. Manhattan, while Juspeczyk stands to the side, her arms crossed in front of her, looking at Rorschach. Panel 2. Rorschach says "Have my own theories on that. Take it you're not too concerned about Blake's death." Dr. Manhattan stands in front of him, his arms crossed, looking to the side with a serious expression on his face. Behind him, Juspeczyk looks angrily at Rorschach. Panel 3. Dr. Manhattan answers, "A live body and a dead body contain the same number of *particles.* Structurally, there's no discernible *difference.* Life and death are unquantifiable *abstracts*. Why *should* I be concerned?" Behind him, Juspeczyk leans against the machine, holding one arm close to her stomach and touching her forehead with the other hand, looking at Dr. Manhattan exasperatedly. Panel 4. Dr. Manhattan walks away towards another large machine on the opposite wall. Rorschach puts one hand on his elbow and his other hand to his mouth, and says "Ehnk." Panel 5. Juspeczyk, still leaning against the machine Dr. Manhattan was working on before and crossing her arms over her belly, looks straight forward and says "Anyway, it couldn't have happened to a nicer *person*. Blake was a bastard. He was a *monster*. Y'know he tried to rape my *mother* back when they were both *Minutemen*?" Rorschach, off to the side, puts one hand in his pocket and looks at her. In the background, Dr. Manhattan is lifting the large machine off the ground. Panel 6. Rorschach removes the wrapper from a sugar cube and, facing Juspeczyk, says "Uhm. So you support the allegations made in Hollis Mason's book concerning Blake?" She looks at his hands. Panel 7. She looks away from him, her face angry and her eyes determined. She says "What Mason said in "*Under The Hood* is what *happened.* God knows I'm not my mother's *biggest* admirer, but some things shouldn't happen to *anybody.* Why do you think Blake never *sued* Mason?" Rorschach pops the sugar cube in his mouth, his mask lifted over his nose. With his other hand, he drops the wrapper on the ground. Behind them, Dr. Manhattan is lifting the machine a few feet above his head, looking at its base. Panel 8. Rorschach pulls the mask back down over his face and crunches the sugar cube loudly. He turns away from Juspeczyk and says "I'm not here to speculate on the moral lapses of men who died in their country's service. I came to warn..." She turns sharply towards him and, balling both hands into fists, yells "*Moral lapses*?" Panel 9. She points at Rorschach's face and says "*Rape* is a *moral lapse*? You know he broke her *ribs*? You know he almost *choked* her? Jon, get this creep *out* of here." Dr. Manhattan is holding the base of the machine and examining it. Rorschach stands in front of Juspeczyk, both hands in his pockets. Page 22. Panel 1. Rorschach is shown from a low angle, between Dr. Manhattan's muscular legs. His hands are still in his pockets and he looks at Dr. Manhattan. Dr. Manhattan says "You seem to be upsetting *Laurie.* I think you ought to go." Panel 2. Rorschach faces Dr. Manhattan and says "With respect, Dr. Manhattan, I warned Veidt and Dreiberg and I intend to warn you and your lady friend. I believe someone is eliminating masked adventurers, possibly some old foe with a grudge. I believe..." Laurie stands to the side, her back turned to both of them, her hands on the sides of her head. Panel 3. Dr. Manhattan frowns, furrows his brows and says "I said I think you ought to go." Panel 4. Rorschach gestures with one hand as he says "Spent a lot of time getting in to see you. Not leaving before I've..." Dr. Manhattan is looking at him. Panel 5. Dr. Manhattan has not moved. The space where Rorschach was a moment ago is empty. There is just a small blue cloud where he used to be. Panel 6. Rorschach is by the sign with the facility's name on it, on the outside of the fence. The rain falls lightly on him as he says, still gesturing, "... had my say." Panel 7. Rorschach stands in the rain, looking at his hands. Panel 8. He looks to the side. Panel 9. He walks away, along the fence, both hands in his pockets, slightly hunched over. He says "Hurm." Page 23. Panel 1. Dr. Manhattan is working on a large, boxy machine. He is standing in front of it, with one hand twiddling a dial, and the other hand passing through the machine itself. He says "He's gone. Are you still *upset*?" Laurie stoops down to pick up the sugar cube wrapper. Panel 2. She throws away the wrapper, still looking tense, as she replies "Yeah. I just don't *like* Rorschach. He's *sick.* Sick inside his *mind.* I don't like the way he *smells* or that horrible monotone *voice* or *anything.* The sooner the police put him *away,* the *better.* In the background, Dr. Manhattan stands back and pushes a button, which glows brightly. Panel 3. Laurie perches on a chair near the machine, tucking her legs up to her chest and wrapping her arms around her knees, facing Dr. Manhattan. A panel of the machine has come off and floats in midair about a foot away from the machine. Between the panel and machine float the parts of the machine that were originally behind the panel. Dr. Manhattan regards the machine, his body language relaxed. Panel 4. Dr. Manhattan moves the parts away from each other without touching them. Small, complicated gears, tubes and other parts hang in midair inches away from his face, and he puts one hand up to his chin, holding it thoughtfully. Laurie moves her arms and legs to a more relaxed position and, looking at him, says "Jon?" He replies, "Yes, Laurie?" Panel 5. Laurie stands up and, moving away from the chair, stretches her arms up and out to the side. She says, "I was just thinking that I must be really *edgy* to let a maggot like *Rorschach* get to me like that. I just feel *cooped up* sometimes. Maybe I could use a *night out*." Dr. Manhattan continues to look at the machine, starting to place the parts back in order. Panel 6. Laurie gestures to the side with one hand and says "You know, Rorschach mentioned *Dan Drieberg. We haven't seen Dan in *years*. Maybe I'll call him up, ask him out to *dinner.* If you don't *mind*, that is." Dr. Manhattan is still looking at the machine, his posture perfectly straight and his arms at his side. He has fitted all the parts back together, and is putting them back in the machine. Panel 7. Dr. Manhattan touches the panel, which is now fitted back into the machine, and a small sphere of light appears under his fingers. He looks at it as he says "Of course not. I'd *join* you, but I think I'm close to locating a *gluino*, which would completely validate *supersymmetrical theory* if we could include it in the *bestiary.*" Laurie walks away from him as she says "That's fascinating. I'll call *Dan.*" Panel 8. In the background, Dr. Manhattan is touching the machine with one hand. Laurie is next to a wall-mounted phone, facing away from him, holding the phone to her ear with one hand and playing with the phone cord with the other. She says "Hello, *Dan*? *Laurie.* Laurie *Juspeczyk.* I'm *fine*. How are *you?* Great. Listen. I just remembered I hadn't *seen* you in ages and wondered if we could have *dinner* sometime. Well, how about *tonight*? *Rafael's* at 9:30?" Panel 9. Dr. Manhattan is looking up at the machine, smiling beatifically. Laurie turns towards him as she says "That's terrific. Jon? Oh, yeah. Yeah, Jon's in pretty good shape. See you later, Dan. 'Bye." Page 24. Panel 1. A large panel the size of three regular panels. Rorschach is walking in a dirty, rough-looking back alley, both hands in his pockets, passing a broken, tall wooden fence and a bunch of trash. It is still raining. There is graffiti all over the fence and the walls, with peace signs, the same starburst, the anarchy sign, random squiggles, the phrase "Who Watches The Watchmen?" which is only partially visible, the word "Krystalnacht" and other words that cannot be made out. There is a torn poster for Pale Horse at Madison Square Garden. In the foreground are piles of trash, including a box from Gunga Diner, and some overflowing trash cans with rats on top of them. The following text is from Rorschach's journal, October 13th, 1985, 11:30 PM. Panel 2. Rorschach pauses to look at an open window on the third floor of a three-story apartment building. A naked woman is standing at it, pulling the curtains closed. Rorschach's journal reads, "On Friday night, a comedian died in New York." Panel 3. The curtains in the woman's window are drawn, but the inside is lit up, and the shadows of the woman and a man can be seen inside. Rorschach continues to watch, rain dripping off the brim of his hat. His journal reads, "Someone threw him out of a window and when he hit the sidewalk his head was driven up into his stomach." Panel 4. Rorschach starts walking down the sidewalk again as the man and woman embrace. His journal reads, "Nobody cares. Nobody cares but me." Panel 5. Rorschach walks down another narrow, messy alley. The garbage cans are overfilled, and a comic book titled Tales of the Black Freighter pokes out from the top of one of them. His journal continues, "Are they right? Is it futile? Soon there will be war. Millions will burn. Millions will perish in sickness and misery. Why does one death matter against so many?" Panel 6. A closeup of Rorschach's face, his mask displaying a new pattern as always, and water dripping off the brim of his hat. His journal continues "Because there is good and there is evil, and evil must be punished. Even in the face of Armageddon I shall not compromise in this. But there are so many deserving of retribution..." Panel 7. Rorschach leaves the alley, coming to another sidewalk. In front of him is another apartment building, and beyond that the lights of a skyscraper and a zeppelin floating in the sky. Behind him, in the alley he just left, is a tattered poster on the wall. It shows a picture of Richard Nixon standing in front of American flag and smiling broadly, with both arms above his head and both hands making the V sign. Underneath the picture are the words "Four More Years." Rorschach's journal continues, "... And there is so little time." Page 25. Panel 1. The moon is full and wavy lines of clouds pass over it. Skyscrapers are all lit up and the dome is in the background. A sign on a stylish building with tall windows and plants hanging over the edge reads "Rafael's." Dan says, "Well, I guess it's getting pretty *late*. It's been a great *evening*, Laurie. You're *sure* you won't let me pick up the tab?" Panel 2. Through the window, we see Laurie's hands writing on the receipt, and Dan's hands holding a wineglass. There are coffee cups, another wineglass, an empty bottle of wine, a small floral arrangement and a plate with mints on the table.The waiter is standing in front of the table. Laurie responds, "Nah. If I'm gonna be a *kept woman* for the military's *secret weapon*, then the military can stand me a bowl of *spaghetti africaine* every once in a while." Dan says, "Hey, you sound *bitter.*" Panel 3. Laurie passes her credit card to the waiter while looking grimly at Dan. She is wearing a strapless black dress and a gold bangle on one wrist, and her hair is pulled to one side into a twisted braid that connects at the base of her throat to a golden chain, which is connected to an earring on the other side of her head. She says "No. Not *really.* It's just that the only reason I'm kept *around* is to keep *Jon* relaxed and happy." Dan, wearing a black suit and his large, round glasses, says "Uh... Is everything *okay* with you and Jon?" Panel 4. A large panel the size of six regular panels. Laurie rests one arm on the table and holds her wineglass with her other hand. She leans forward and says "Me and *Jon*? Oh, *yeah.* Yeah, everything's fine. Couldn't be *better.*" Around them are tables with other diners. At one table, a white woman wearing a sleeveless, backless dress with her hair pulled into a tight knot smiles as the elegantly dressed waiter brings a turkey with two drumsticks on each side to her. At the next table nearby, two older white men in tuxedos look lovingly at each other. One has an old-fashioned white mustache and a long, thin cigarette holder with a ball by the tip, and the other has a large nose and a tender expression. The one with the mustache has his arm around the other's shoulders, and they are holding hands. Near Laurie and Dan is another table with well-dressed men chatting with women with exotic hairstyles, and in the foreground is the face of a white woman wearing dramatic, Egyptian-style eye makeup. Panel 5. Dan and Laurie stand up. Laurie picks up her clutch purse and says "It's just I keep thinking 'I'm thirty-five. What have I done?' I've spent eight years in *semi-retirement*, preceded by ten years running round in a stupid *costume* because my stupid *mother* wanted me to!" The lights of the skyscrapers are brilliant behind them, and it becomes clear that the restaurant is on top of a tall building itself. Panel 6. As they leave the restaurant and walk down the stairs, Laurie a few paces ahead of Dan, she says "You *remember* that costume? With that stupid little *short skirt* and the neckline going down to my *navel*? God, that was so *dreadful.*" Dan adjusts his tie as he replies, "God, yes. Dreadful." Panel 7. As they walk down the steps they come to a little courtyard, with benches, plants and a fountain. Laurie continues, "Y'know, when I think *back*... Why did we *do* it? Why did we *dress up* like that? The *Keene Act* was the best thing that ever *happened* to us." Dan answers, "Yeah. You're probably *right.*" Panel 8. They stand together at the edge of the building. Laurie rests her elbows on the railing, looking to the side, a melancholy look on her face. Beside her, Dan holds the smiley face button in his hand and looks down at it, his expression gloomy. Page 26. Panel 1. Dan places the button on the railing, next to Laurie's clutch purse. She touches the back of his hand lightly, her fingernails long and red, and says "Hey, you remember that *guy*? The one who pretended to be a *super villain* so he could get *beaten up*?" Dan answers "Oh, you mean *Captain Carnage. Ha ha ha! *He* was one for the books." Panel 2. Laurie gestures with both hands and smiles as she says "You're telling *me!* I remember, I caught him coming out of this *jewelers.* *I* didn't know what his *racket* was. I start *hitting* him and I think 'Jeez! *He's* breathin' funny! Does he have *asthma?*" Dan, his hands in his pockets, laughs, "Ha ha ha." Panel 3. The two of them are seen from further away, as if from the top down. Dan says "He tried that with *me*, only I'd *heard* about him, so I just walked *away.* He followed me down the *street*... Broad *daylight*, right? He's saying '*Punish* me!'" Dan puts out his hands in front of him, his palms up, and continues, "I'm saying, '"*No! Get lost!*'" Laurie puts her hands to her mouth and laughs, "Ha ha ha." Panel 4. The two of them are even smaller now, as if the reader is floating further and further away from them. In the street below, a car passes by. Laurie, both hands on her hips, says "Whatever *happened* to him?" Dan points down with both fingers and says "Uh, well, he pulled it on *Rorschach* and Rorschach dropped him down an *elevator shaft.*" Panel 5. The two are almost too small to make out, now, and we can see most of the courtyard and more cars on the street. Laurie laughs, in large type, "*Phaaa ha ha ha!" Then, in normal sized type, she says "Oh, *God*, I'm *sorry.* That isn't *funny.* *Ha ha ha ha ha!*" Dan replies "*Ha ha ha!* No, I guess it's *not*..." Panel 6. From an even greater height, the two of them and the cars below are even tinier. Laurie says "Ahuh. Ahuhuhuh. Jeez, y'know, that felt *good.* There don't seem to be so many laughs *around* these days." Dan replies, "Well, what do you *expect*?" Panel 7. A large panel the size of two and a half regular panels. The reader is seeing the courtyard from so high up that Laurie and Dan are just dots, and the building is surrounded by other, taller skyscrapers. Dan continues, "The Comedian is dead." Panel 8. The background of this panel is black, with a quote in white text. "At midnight, all the agents and superhuman crew, go out and round up everyone who knows more than they do." Bob Dylan. Underneath the quote is a round clock with no numbers or other indications of time on it. The minute and hour hands indicate that it is 11:50. Supplementary Material Page 1. A typed note is paperclipped on to the top right of the page. It reads "We present here excerpts from Hollis Mason's autobiography, Under The Hood, leading up to the time when he became the masked adventurer, Nite Owl. Reprinted with permission of the author." Under The Hood, Chapter 1. Part 1. The lady who works in the grocery store at the corner of my block is called Denise, and she's one of America's great unpublished novelists. Over the years she's written *forty-two* romantic novels, none of which have ever reached the bookstores. I, however, have been fortunate enough to hear the plots of the last twenty-seven of these recounted in installments by the authoress herself every time I drop by the store for a jar of coffee or can of beans, and my respect for Denise's literary prowess knows no bounds. So, naturally enough, when I found myself faced with the daunting task of actually starting the book you now hold in your hands, it was Denise I turned to for advice. "Listen, I said, "I don't know from writing a book. I have all this stuff in my head that I want to get down, but what do I write about first? Where do I begin?" Without looking up from the boxes of detergent to which she was fixing price tags, Denise graciously delivered up a pearl of her accumulated wisdom in a voice of bored but benign condescension. "Start off with the saddest thing you can think of and get the audience's sympathies on your side. After that, believe me, it's a walk." Thank you, Denise. This book is dedicated to you, because I don't know how to choose between all the other people I should be dedicating it to. The saddest thing I can think of is "The Ride of the Valkyries." Every time I hear it I get depressed and start wondering about the lot of humanity and the unfairness of life and all those other things that you think about at three in the morning when your digestion won't let you sleep. Now, I realize that nobody else on the planet has to brush away a tear when they hear that particular stirring refrain, but that's because they don't know about Moe Vernon. When my father upped and left my Granddad's farm in Montana to bring his family to New York, Moe Vernon was the man he worked for. Vernon's Auto Repairs was just off Seventh Avenue, and although it was only 1928 when Dad started working there, there was just about enough trade for his wages to keep me and Mom and my sister Liantha in food and clothing. Dad was always really keen and enthusiastic about his work, and I used to think it was just because he had a thing about cars. Looking back, I can see it was more than that. It must have meant so much to him, just to have a job and be able to support his family. He'd had a lot of arguments with his father about coming east rather than taking over the farm, like the old man had planned for him, and most of the rows had ended with my grandfather predicting poverty and moral ruination for my dad and mom if they so much as set foot in New York. To be living the life that he himself had chosen and keeping his family above the poverty line in spite of his father's warnings must have meant more to my dad than anything in the world, but that's something I only understand now, with hindsight. Back then, I just thought he was crazy for crankshafts. Anyway, I was twelve years old when we left Montana, so during those next few years in the big city I was just the age to appreciate the occasional trips to the auto shop with my dad, which is where I first set eyes on Moe Vernon, his employer. Moe Vernon was a man around fifty-five or so, and he had one of those old New York faces that you don't see anymore. It's funny, but certain faces seem to go in and out of style. You look at old photographs and everybody has a certain look to them, almost as if they're related. Look at pictures from ten years later and you can see that there's a new kind of face starting to predominate, and that the old faces are fading away and vanishing, never to be seen again. Moe Vernon's face was like that: three chins, a wiseacre cynical curl to his lower lip, a certain hollowness around the eyes, hair retreating back across his head, attempting a rendezvous with the label on his shirt collar. Page 2. There is a picture with the caption "Vernon's Auto Repair c. 1928. (left to right) My father; myself, age 12; Moe Vernon; Fred Motz." The four men are standing in a cluttered, unkempt office. Mason's father is a strong, sturdy-looking man with a confident, trustworthy smile. He looks very like Mason when Mason was younger, although his forehead is furrowed in two deep wrinkles. He's white, wears overalls and a flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up. He has his arms crossed over his chest, holding some papers close to him and a wrench in one hand. In front of him is a typewriter with some paper already in it, and behind him is a poster for the New York Metropolitan Opera House. His son stands next to him. He's wearing a turtleneck and a beret slouched over his eyebrows, and he already looks like his father, with a similar nose and smile. The window behind him is broken in a couple of places and taped together, and the light fixture above them has a knotted piece of string for a light pull. Moe Vernon is sitting in a chair next to Mason, with one arm around the boy's shoulders, and in his hand is a toy spider which he is draping over Mason's shoulder. He's white and has a florid, wrinkly face, with small eyes, a black mustache with the tips curled down, hair thinning at the sides and a grin that shows a missing front tooth. He is holding a lit cigar and wearing a plain shirt with suspenders. His feet are propped up on the desk and there are holes in both of the soles of his shoes. There is a gramophone behind him. To his side is Fred Motz, a stylish, intense-looking white man wearing a jacket, a scarf and a cap. He is smoking a cigarette and resting one hand on the other in front of him. He has a small mustache, a strong chin and a piercing gaze. Behind him is a calendar which reads March with the date unidentifiable, and in front of him is a coffee cup resting on some papers on the desk. I'd go into the shop with my dad and Moe would be sitting there in his office, which had glass sides so he could watch the men working. Sometimes, if my father wanted to check something out with Moe before going ahead with his work, he'd send me over to the office to do it for him, which meant that I got to see the insides of Moe's inner sanctum. Or rather, I got to hear them. You see, Moe was an opera buff. He had one of the new gramophones over in the corner of his office and all day he used to play scratchy old seventy-eight recordings of his favorites just as loud as he could manage. By today's standard, "as loud as he could manage" didn't amount to a whole lot of noise, but it sounded pretty cacophonous back in 1930, when things were generally quieter. The other thing that was peculiar about Moe was his sense of humor, as represented by all the stuff he used to keep in the top right side drawer of his desk. In that drawer, amongst a mess of rubber bands and paper clips and receipts and stuff, Moe had one of the largest collections of tasteless novelty items that I had seen up until that point or have seen at any time since. They were all risque little toys and gadgets that Moe had picked up from gag shops or on visits to Coney Island, but it was the sheer range of them that was overwhelming: every cheap blue gimmick that you can remember your dad bringing home when he'd been out drinking with the boys and embarrassing your mom with; every ballpoint pen with a girl on the side whose swimsuit vanished when you turned it upside down; every salt and pepper cruet set shaped like a woman's breasts; every plastic dog mess, Moe had the works. Every time anybody went into his office he'd try to startle them by displaying his latest plaything. Actually, it used to shock my dad more than it did me. I don't think he liked the idea of his son being exposed to that kind of stuff, probably because of all the moral warnings my grandfather had impressed upon him. For my part, I wasn't offended and I even found it kind of funny. Not the things themselves... even by then I was too old to get much amusement out of Page 3. stuff like that. What I found funny was that for no apparent reason, a grown man should have a desk drawer full of such ludicrous devices. Anyway, one day in 1933, a little after my seventeenth birthday, I was over at Vernon's Auto Repairs with Dad, helping him poke around in the oily innards of a busted-up Ford. Moe was in his office, and although we didn't find out till later, he was sitting wearing an artificial foam rubber set of realistically painted lady's bosoms, with which he hoped to get a few laughs from the guy who brought him the morning mail through from the front office when it arrived. While he waited, he was listening to Wagner. The mail arrived in due course, and the guy handing it over managed to raise a dutiful chuckle at Moe's generous cleavage before leaving him to open and peruse the morning's missives. Among these (again, as we found out later) there was a letter from Moe's wife Beatrice, informing him that for the past two years she'd been sleeping with Fred Motz, the senior and most trusted mechanic employed at Vernon's Auto Repairs, who, unusually, hadn't shown up for work on that particular morning. This, according to the concluding paragraphs of the letter, was because Beatrice had taken all the money out of the joint account she shared with her husband and had departed with Fred for Tijuana. The first anyone in the workshop knew about this was when the door of Moe's office slammed open and the startlingly loud and crackling rendition of "Ride of the Valkyries" blasted out from within. Framed in the doorway with tears in his eyes and the crumpled letter in his hand, Moe stood dramatically with all eyes turned towards him. He was still wearing the set of artificial breasts. Almost inaudible above the rising strains of Wagner swelling behind him, he spoke, with so much hurt and outrage and offended dignity fighting for possession of his voice that the end result was almost toneless. "Fred Motz has had carnal knowledge of my wife Beatrice for the past two years." He stood there in the wake of his announcement, the tears rolling down over his multiple chins to soak into the pink foam rubber of his bosom, making tiny sounds in his chest and throat that were trampled under the hooves of the Valkyries and lost forever. And everybody started laughing, I don't know what it was. We could see he was crying, but it was just something in the toneless way he'd said it, standing there wearing a pair of false breasts with all that crashing, triumphant music soaring all around him. None of us could help it, laughing at him like that. My dad and I were both doubled up and the other guys slaving over the nearby cars were wiping tears from their eyes and smearing their faces with oil in the process. Moe just looked at us all for a minute and then went back into his office and closed the door. A moment or two later the Wagner stopped with an ugly scraping noise as Moe snatched the needle from the groove of the gramophone record, and after that there was silence. About half an hour passed before someone went in to apologize on behalf of everybody and to see if Moe was all right. Moe accepted the apology and said that he was fine. Apparently he was sitting there at his desk, breasts now discarded, getting on with normal routine paperwork as if nothing had happened. There is a photo at the bottom right of this page. The caption is "I graduate from Police Academy (1938)." It shows a picture of Hollis as a young man in his police uniform and cap. He wears a shiny badge on his chest and has the numbers "142" in two places on his collar. He looks strong and proud. He is standing between two other graduates, but all we see of them are their chests. Page 4. That night, he sent everybody home early. Then, running a tube from the exhaust of one of the shop's more operational vehicles in through the car's window, he started up the engine and drifted off into a final, bitter sleep amongst the carbon monoxide fumes. His brother took over the business and even eventually reemployed Fred Motz as chief mechanic. And that's why "The Ride of the Valkyries" is the saddest thing I can think of, even though it's somebody else's tragedy rather than my own. I was there and I laughed along with all the rest and I guess that makes it part of my story too. Now, if Denise's theory is correct, I should have your full sympathy and the rest will be a walk. So maybe it's safe to tell you about all the stuff you probably bought this book to read about. Maybe it's safe to tell you why I'm crazier than Moe Vernon ever was. I didn't have a drawer full of erotic novelties, but I guess I had my own individual quirks. And although I've never worn a set of false bosoms in my life, I've stood there dressed in something just as strange, with tears in my eyes while people died laughing. Part 2. By 1939 I was twenty-three years old and had taken a job on the New York City police force. I've never really examined until now just why I should have chosen that particular career, but I guess it came as a result of a number of things. Foremost amongst these was probably my grandfather. Even though I resented the old man for the amount of guilt and pressure and recrimination he'd subjected my dad to, I suppose that the simple fact of spending the first twelve years of my life living in my grandfather's proximity had indelibly stamped a certain set of moral values and conditions upon me. I was never so extreme in my beliefs concerning God, the family, and the flag as my father's father was, but if I look at myself today I can see basic notions of decency that were passed down direct from him to me. His name was Hollis Wordsworth Mason, and perhaps because my parents had flattered the old man by naming me after him, he always took a special concern over my upbringing and moral instruction. One of the things that he took great pains to impress upon me was that country folk were morally healthier than city folk and that cities were just cesspools into which all the world's dishonesty and greed and lust and godlessness drained and was left to fester unhindered. Obviously, as I got older and came to realize just how much drunkenness and domestic violence and child abuse was hidden behind the neighborly facade of some of these lonely Montana farmhouses, I understood that my grandfather's appraisal had been a little one-sided. Nevertheless, some of the things that I saw in the city during my first few years here filled me with a sort of ethical revulsion that I couldn't shake off. To some degree, I still can't. The pimps, the pornographers, the protection artists. The landlords who set dogs on their elderly tenants when they wanted them out to make way for more lucrative custom. The old men who touched little children and the callous young rapists who were barely old enough to shave. I saw these people all around me and I'd feel sick in my gut at the world and what it was becoming. Worse, there were times when I'd upset my dad and mom by loudly wishing I was back in Montana. Despite everything, I wished no such thing, but sometimes I'd be mad at them and it seemed like the best way to hurt them, to reawaken all those old doubts and worries and sleeping dogs of guilt. I'm sorry I did it now, and I wish I could have told them that while they were alive. I wish I could have told them that they were right in bringing me to the city, that they did the right thing by me. I wish I could have let them know that. Their lives would have been so much easier. Page 5. There is a photo on the top left of the page. The caption is "Masked adventurers make the front page. (New York Gazette, October 14th, 1938) Note artist's impression of "The Hooded Vigilante." The photo is of two men, bloody and sprawled on the ground. One is on his belly, with his head propped up against the wall and his arms bent back behind him at unnatural angles, and the other is on his back, his head resting in a pool of blood. Both men are white, wearing suits and look to be in their 30s or so. There is a gun next to one of them, and some boxes and cans are scattered by their bodies. One police officer looks on, and the other is looking to the side, saying something. Inset in one corner of the picture is a sketch of a man with a black hood covering his head. The hood has two holes for his eyes. He is wearing a cape around his neck and shoulders, and the cape is fastened around his neck with a rope noose. When the gap between the world of the city and the world my grandfather had presented to me as right and good became too wide and depressing to tolerate, I'd turn to my other great love, which was pulp adventure fiction. Despite the fact that Hollis Mason Senior would have had nothing but scorn and loathing for all of those violent and garish magazines, there was a sort of prevailing morality in them that I'm sure he would have responded to. The world of Doc Savage and The Shadow was one of absolute values, where what was good was never in the slightest doubt and where what was evil inevitably suffered some fitting punishment. The notion of good and justice espoused by Lamont Cranston with his slouch hat and blazing automatics seemed a long way from that of the fierce and taciturn old man I remembered sitting up alone into the Montana night with no company save his bible, but I can't help feeling that if the two had ever met they'd have found something to talk about. For my part, all those brilliant and resourceful sleuths and heroes offered a glimpse of a perfect world where morality worked the way it was meant to. Nobody in Doc Savage's world ever killed themselves except thwarted kamikaze assassins or enemy spies with cyanide capsules. Which world would you rather live in, if you had the choice? Answering that question, I suppose, was what led me to become a cop, It was also what led me to later become something more than a cop. Bear that in mind and I think the rest of this narrative will be easier to swallow. I know people always have trouble understanding just what brings a person to behave the way that I and people like me behave, what makes us do the sort of things we do. I can't answer for anybody else, and I suspect that all our answers would be different anyway, but in my case it's fairly straightforward: I like the idea of adventure, and I feel bad unless I'm doing good. I've heard all the psychologists' theories, and I've heard all the jokes and the rumors and the innuendo, but what it comes down to for me is that I dressed up like an owl and fought crime because it was fun and because it needed doing and because I goddam felt like it. Okay. There it is. I've said it, I dressed up. As an owl. And fought crime. Perhaps you begin to see why I half expect this summary of my career to raise more laughs than poor cuckolded Moe Vernon with his foam teats and his Wagner could ever hope to have done. For me, it all started in 1938, the year when they invented the super-hero. I was too old for comic books when the first issue of ACTION COMICS came out, or at least too old to read them in public without souring my promotion chances, but I noticed a lot of the little kids on my beat reading it and couldn't resist asking one of them if I could glance through it. I figured if anybody saw me I could put it all down to keeping a good relationship with the youth of the community. There was a lot of stuff in that first issue. There were detective yarns and stories about magicians whose names I can't remember, but from the moment I set eyes on it I only had eyes for the Superman story. Here was something that presented the basic morality of the pulps without all their darkness and ambiguity. The atmosphere of the horrific and faintly sinister Page 6. that hung around the Shadow was nowhere to be seen in the bright primary colors of Superman's world, and there was no hint of the repressed sex-urge which had sometimes been apparent in the pulps, to my discomfort and embarrassment. I'd never been entirely sure what Lamont Cranston was up to with Margo Lane, but I'd bet it was nowhere near as innocent and wholesome as Clark Kent's relationship with her namesake Lois. Of course, all of these old characters are gone and forgotten now, but I'm willing to bet that there are at least a few older readers out there who will remember enough to know what I'm talking about. Anyway, suffice it to say that I read that story through about eight times before giving it back to the complaining kid that I'd snitched it from. It set off a lot of things I'd forgotten about, deep inside me, and kicked all those old fantasies that I'd had when I was thirteen or fourteen back into gear: The prettiest girl in the class would be attacked by bullies, and I'd be there to beat them off, but when she offered to kiss me as a reward, I'd refuse. Gangsters would kidnap my math teacher, Miss Albertine, and I'd track them down and kill them one by one until she was free, and then she'd break off her engagement with my sarcastic English teacher, Mr. Richardson, because she'd fallen hopelessly in love with her grim-faced and silent fourteen-year-old savior. All of this stuff came flooding back as I stood there gawking at the hijacked comic book, and even though I laughed at myself for having entertained such transparent juvenile fantasies, I didn't laugh as hard as I might have done. Not half as hard as I'd laughed at Moe Vernon, for example. Anyway, although I'd occasionally manage to trick some unsuspecting tyke into lending me his most recent issue of the funnybook in question and then spend the rest of the day leaping tall buildings inside my head, my fantasies were to remain as fantasies until I opened a newspaper in the autumn of that same year and found that the super-heroes had escaped from their four-color world and invaded the plain, factual black and white of the headlines. The first news story was simple and unpresupposing enough, but it shared enough elements with those fictions that were closest to my heart to make me notice it and file it in my memory for future reference. It concerned an attempted assault and robbery that had taken place in Queens, New York. A man and his girlfriend, walking home after a night at the theater, had been set upon by a gang of three men armed with guns. After relieving the couple of their valuables, the gang had started to beat and physically abuse the young man while threatening to indecently assault his girlfriend. At this point, the crime had been interrupted by a figure quote who dropped into the alleyway from above with something over his face unquote and proceeded to disarm the three attackers before beating them with such severity that all three required hospital treatment and that one subsequently lost the use of both legs as a result of a spinal injury. The witnesses' recounting of the event was confused and contradictory, but there was still something in the story that gave me a tingle of recognition. And then, a week later, it happened again. Reportage on this second instance was more detailed. A supermarket stick-up had been prevented thanks to the intervention of quote A tall man, built like a wrestler, who wore a black hood and cape and also wore a noose around his neck unquote. This extraordinary being had crashed in through the window of the supermarket while the robbery was in progress and attacked the man responsible with such intensity and savagery that those not disabled immediately were only too willing to drop their guns and surrender. Connecting this incidence of masked intervention with its predecessor, the papers ran the story under a headline that read simply "Hooded Justice." The first masked adventurer outside comic books had been given his name. Reading and rereading that news item, I knew that I had to be the second. I'd found my vocation. The page opposite the last page from Mason's book is black. At the very bottom is half of a clock, with a red, white and black edge and Roman numerals. The time is 11:49.