"Goodbye, Mr. Rorschach."
"Jarvis, take care."
On the corner of 75th Street in New York, Rorschach waved goodbye to Jarvis, who nodded politely before driving away.
His gaze lingered on a black sedan idling not far behind. The corner of his mouth curled into a dry smirk.
They'd been tailing him for a while now.
Peggy Carter had sent someone, no doubt.
Rorschach wasn't surprised. The moment she saw the kind of strength he displayed, she'd gotten suspicious. Not that she had reason to be — not really. But people always feared what they didn't understand.
Sure, Rorschach wasn't a spy, didn't have formal training in counter-surveillance, but come on — with his heightened senses, picking up a tail wasn't hard. Super hearing made their whispered plans sound like they were yelling across the street.
Had Carter simply asked calmly and respectfully, Rorschach might've told her something. Mutants weren't some deep secret anymore, not to him.
But she treated him like a threat. And if she was going to play it that way, he wasn't going to play nice.
That's why he had Jarvis drop him right here. This was no random street corner — it was a stage.
"Agent Carter, I'm not some pawn you can just push around."
Rorschach muttered under his breath, then turned and walked straight toward the black sedan.
Knock knock.
He rapped on the window. Hard.
The glass rolled down and revealed a middle-aged man chewing on a hot dog, eyes half-lidded like he'd just been interrupted from watching a ball game.
"What's your problem, kid? Get lost."
He played dumb, but Rorschach wasn't buying it.
Without a word, Rorschach reached in, grabbed the guy by the shirtfront, and yanked him clean out of the vehicle with one hand. The agent flailed as he was lifted off the ground like a sack of laundry.
"You can go back and tell Peggy Carter to stop following me," Rorschach said, calm as a Sunday stroll. "I'm not always this patient."
And with that, he tossed the man upward like he weighed nothing.
Thud.
The agent landed hard on a nearby rooftop with a metallic crash, groaning in pain.
Rorschach didn't even look back. He turned, melted into the crowd, and vanished.
One less problem.
The rest of his trip was uneventful, and soon he was back at Xavier's School.
The change in atmosphere was obvious the moment he stepped through the door. The air wasn't thick with fear anymore — people were laughing, joking, relaxed. It was a far cry from the tension before the Black Emperor's downfall.
"Rorschach! You legend!" Kraken called out, practically sprinting to him.
"You really saved Howard Stark? Man, that's nuts!"
Apparently Raven had already filled them in.
"Yeah," said one of the other young mutants, "that's gotta be the craziest thing I've ever heard."
Darwin, usually the calm and collected one, couldn't contain his curiosity. "So, how's Stark? You two get along?"
Rorschach grinned and sank into a couch. "He's alright. Not nearly as handsome as me, but he manages."
That got a round of laughter. For the first time, these outcast kids — these mutants — felt like they were part of something powerful. Rorschach had become more than an ally. He was a symbol.
And it felt good.
Meanwhile, in the Bronx...
A crumbling, abandoned building stood like a scar in the middle of a forgotten block. Trash littered the courtyard, reeking of rot.
In stark contrast, a pristine black Cadillac sat parked out front — sleek, spotless, and totally out of place.
Standing by the car were four men.
Stryker.
Wade Wilson — not yet Deadpool, but just as mouthy.
And two other government agents standing guard, tense and alert.
But that wasn't all. Stryker had hidden snipers posted in the shadows. This wasn't a meeting. It was a test.
Wade chewed on a stick of gum, grimacing at the stench.
"Sir, you know I have issues with, uh, unsanitary environments. And this place smells like dead raccoons wrapped in dirty socks—"
"Shut it, Wade."
Stryker didn't even look at him.
Wade shrugged and muttered something under his breath, but stayed quiet — for now.
A car pulled up slowly. Out stepped a tall man in a black coat. Long hair. Sharp eyes. Tension followed him like a shadow.
Lucian.
A werewolf.
And the one Stryker had been waiting for.
"I told you — keep meetings to a minimum," Lucian said coldly. "I don't like being out in the open."
"Only the weak hide in the dark, Lucian," Stryker replied evenly. "The strong face trouble and erase it."
Lucian didn't flinch. "Let's skip the philosophy. What do you want?"
"You and I worked well together before. I need that again."
Lucian narrowed his eyes. "That deal ended. I held up my end. You didn't. You never found the one I asked you to track."
"And now you've got mutants. You don't need my people anymore."
"Wrong. I'm running low. Logan's gone. Zero and Sabretooth are dead. I've got no one left but Wade."
Lucian looked away. "Not my problem. I told you, I'm staying low. Three days ago, one of my kind got torn apart by some guy in the city — guy looked Asian. I didn't retaliate. I let it slide."
Stryker's eyes sharpened.
An Asian man, strong enough to take out a werewolf?
That fit too well.
Rorschach.
He'd already been looking into a similar description after Sabretooth was killed.
The pieces were coming together — and the picture was dangerous.
.....
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