capeandcowllogs | [complete]

[complete]

WHO: Adrian Veidt/Ozymandias (

reactionism)
WHERE: ... around
WHEN: not long after Veidt arrives.
WARNINGS: VIOLENCE
SUMMARY: Rorschach eventually finds Ozy, shit happens.
FORMAT: para.

It had only been a matter of time. He knew this.

Only a matter of time before Veidt showed up, the figurative villain to their story - "they" being the former Crimebusters, who were all accounted for at the moment, minus Blake - and Rorschach was looking for him. In his typical headstrong fashion, searching every last grimy corner of the city for possible tracks, some easier way to pinpoint where, exactly, this man was.

Luck seemed to be on the masked vigilante's side this evening, because after only about an hour of stalking the moonlit streets, he stumbled across him.

Veidt.

Rorschach froze, staring wordlessly for a moment or two before abruptly breaking into a run toward him. He was going to murder him.

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Adrian wasn't in the habit of hiding out. Covering his tracks, certainly. But hiding? No. There was no point in that. He had enough confidence in himself and his abilities that he didn't consider most people to be a threat to him. Yes, in this place, he had lost his position of power. But he'd built all his fortune from the ground up once before; it was not impossible to do so again. And his task had been accomplished, though it was more than a little vexing that he wouldn't be around to see all of the effects that his hard-earned peace.

Ah, well. He would adapt. He was good enough at that.

As it was, he stood on a street corner. He had been walking rather aimlessly around this new city, getting a feel for it. It wouldn't do to be unfamiliar with the surroundings, after all.

He felt off, somehow. There was something that seemed...changed. A slight perception alteration that he had not quite come to understand. It would come to him; it always did. But something was different.

His thoughts were interrupted rather rudely by the sound of footsteps. Running, coming towards him.

He turned, his face calm, though one eyebrow was raised.

Rorschach. Yes, of course. Though he had been certain that the man was dead, that was of no consequence now. He couldn't say he was shocked, or even alarmed, by the fact that Rorschach was running at him. He was prone to rage, after all. And after their last meeting, it was to be expected; deserved, even, in some light.

Ah well.

He sidestepped, hardly batting an eye, and reached out to use the other man's momentum to throw him into the nearest wall. He knew that Rorschach was more stubborn than that, but he really didn't enjoy fighting; combat was unfortunately necessary at times, but the faster things were over, the better.

All the contempt, the hatred, the utter furor Veidt had caused within him was boiling over. Rorschach was fairly sure that he wouldn't be able to land a hit on him at the moment he'd started to rush forward, yet he'd continued. Had to. There was a reason to give his all at slaughtering the world's smartest man.

It would hardly be easy, though, as evidenced by Veidt's first counter. Rorschach was tossed ungracefully into one of the brick walls surrounding them, but his absorption of the blow was quick, and he was back on his feet within seconds.

Barely pausing to recollect himself, he ran forward again. This time aiming a punch at the other man's face, or perhaps the neck.

Adrian felt almost as if he was moving in a dream, for just a minute. Reality seemed to...slow down. He was used to being fast, certainly. He'd always been fast - and he'd worked to get even faster.

He moved his arm up, countering the blow. The move felt effortless. He was sure he wasn't trying. Of course, he knew he could win a fight against Rorschach. But this was...sad. Ridiculous, even. Was the other man even trying?

The world spun a little and things were normal again. He turned his arm the other way, grabbing onto the other man's wrist. Then it was his turn to throw a punch - hopefully right into Rorschach's face, if it could really be called that.

The thing about this enemy was that it was actually skilled in combat, if not moreso than Rorschach himself. He was downright deadly, as evidenced by his quick domination of both himself and Daniel back at the Antarctic base. Adrian was ridiculously fast, and the vigilante had no time to attempt defense.

The blow to the face was taken, causing the inky patterns to contort strangely, almost unparallel for a brief second, before he stumbled backward and nearly fell.

But no; Rorschach swung his body back, forward, trying to force him into the wall. It, most likely, would fail.

Adrian let himself be moved back, but he didn't hit the wall. Instead, he reached out and grabbed Rorschach's coat, pulling the other man with him. At the last possible second, he moved to the side, away from the wall. He doubted that Rorschach would be lucky enough to move in time, and would probably be meeting the wall again.

Really.

"Do you honestly think you're going to kill me this way? You're going to need to be much smarter than that about it. Your rage alone can't beat me," he said. His tone was level; he wasn't gloating. He was simply stating a fact as he saw it.

Smashed into the wall just as planned. Face first, could feel the blood starting to pour from a now-busted nose, staining the white of his mask to a dark, almost black, red.

Veidt's tone was infuriating; he'd always hated talking to him for this reason, wanting to strangle him at every second. The condescation. Rorschach hardly saw himself as anything higher than he was, but he certainly disliked being talked down to. Especially by a man so liberal-minded as Veidt.

Rorschach had fallen to his knees after the previous blow, but pulled himself up, shakily. Turned back around toward Veidt and, once again, hurtled toward him, now simply trying to grab him or bodyslam him or something to bring him down.

Adrian took a step forward, and the world spun again for just a minute. Rorschach ran right past him, though Adrian perceived it more as if the other man had been walking. Of course, that was preposterous; he'd seen him start rushing. His movements were still those of a running man, and not a walking one.

What the hell was going on? He wondered, for a brief moment, if this was just a step closer to how Jon viewed the world. He'd often wondered, of course. It couldn't be anything quite like that, but it was certainly not normal.

And then it was, and he turned to face Rorschach again. He didn't take any initiative; that was very rarely his style. If he had wanted to start a fight, he would have been looking for Rorschach, instead of the other way around. He had certainly done well enough with Eddie Blake, after all. And he could defend himself; he could claim victory.

But he really didn't want to fight. Rorschach was hardly a man who could be considered a potential ally. They'd never seen eye to inkblot as it was, and after the incident in Antarctica, well, there was certainly no chance. It was also common knowledge that Rorschach was a sociopath. He was a murderer. Of course, it could be said that Adrian himself was a murderer. But they were worlds apart. Rorschach did not feel, as Adrian had made himself feel. Rorschach was constantly fighting some losing battle against some imagined evil, and Adrian had been saving the world from nuclear holocaust.

Worlds apart.

"You never learn, do you?" he asked, slightly irritated. This was a waste of his time, after all. It was even a waste of Rorschach's time, and pints of his blood as well if he continued on the way they'd been going.

Rorschach's fist hit nothing but the cold air bearing down upon them both. He turned, heavily, slowly. Swung again, missing by inches, before pausing. His breathing had become slightly labored.

"... Huhn..."

Eloquent as always, Rorschach simply stared at Veidt for a moment. Blood had been running freely from his nose, his lip. Collecting in a disgusting river that flowed down his neck, staining the bottom of the mask and his scarf.

He was not going to give up. Veidt had to pay for what he'd done.

Rorschach began to stumble toward the other man for yet another round. It was getting redundant.

Adrian shook his head a little. So predictable. So angry. At him, at the world and all its perceived evils, at life. He couldn't really say. He supposed he was an easy target, of course; he could understand Rorschach's bitterness toward him. However, this was getting repetitive. And a bit dull, really.

Combat really just wasn't his thing.

"Rorschach. I admit that I'm a little disappointed, even in you. Do you think I've had allowed you to find me if I hadn't expected at least something?"

It was a rhetorical question, of course. He knew he wouldn't get much of an answer, if he even got one at all. He didn't mind; whatever Rorschach would say wasn't relevant at the moment.

He tilted his head, then moved forward. He didn't like taking even this much initiative, but he was tired of this. It was clearly an unbalanced fight; it had been from the very first. If Rorschach knew that, he didn't care. It might have been endearing from someone else. It might have been endearing years ago when they'd met. Now? It was just tiring.

He reached out and grabbed Rorschach's coat again, bringing his knee up even as he pulled the other down to meet it. He'd put a decent amount of force into it, intending to knock enough wind out of the other to make him a little easier to deal with; not that he was all that difficult, but still. He didn't want to leave Rorschach laying here on the street unconscious, although it seemed to be the only alternative.

He turned again, dragging Rorschach right along with him, and ran back at the wall. He let go in time to keep himself from hitting the wall, but the momentum would carry Rorschach right back into it. Adrian just hoped that the third time would, indeed, be a charm.

There was that voice again. Veidt's tone was the epitome of pseudo-intellectual scorn, though there was nothing fake about his brain power - but he completely overdid the superiority complex, letting it leak into ordinary conversation. Even if one couldn't hear it in his voice, it was present in his eyes. As Veidt's self-servicing words floated past him, all Rorschach paid attention to was the latter.

It was possibly the most irritating thing he'd dealt with since arriving back here. Veidt was no different in this bizarre, otherworldly city than he was back home - still an arrogant bastard, still stronger than you and willing to rub it in your face in the most faux-modest way possible - Rorschach despised it. Why be so sneaky, so poised around the common man? The typical interviewer? Even... himself? He knew Veidt didn't think highly of him; few people did. Not that he cared, and yet, Adrian was attempting pacifism. He hadn't once made a move, only countered, until...

Rorschach seemed to allow himself to be picked up. He was exhausted, yes, but there was some strategy - he waited a milisecond before reaching out, and then -

The plan didn't work. Instead he was smashed back down. Before being able to recover from the blow he was again tossed into the wall, skull cracking against the brick... that did it. He could feel himself slowly fading into unconciousness, and damned if that wasn't the only thing that was capable of putting an end to his long-failed murder plot.

Adrian stood looking down at Rorschach for a minute. He wasn't quite convinced that the man wasn't faking; after all, he couldn't see his eyes through the mess of mask and blood. He stared for a full minute, gauging the lack of movement. There was nothing, just...blankness.

He sighed a little, then turned and walked back down the street. Rorschach would either get up again, or he wouldn't. Adrian had seen the rise and fall of his chest; he was certainly alive. He would have one hell of a headache, more likely than anything. Adrian hadn't been aiming to cause permanent damage, so it was highly likely there wouldn't be any. He was pretty sure he'd busted up Rorschach's nose, but no one ever saw it anyway, so what did that matter?

He had never been one to start fights. But it couldn't be said that he didn't know how to finish them.

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