Howard Stark had noticed that Rorschach entered the bar earlier with an older man, so he had a pretty good idea of who Rorschach was referring to and where he was headed.
That's why Stark didn't press further. He simply nodded and said, "Of course, no problem at all."
Agent Carter watched quietly from the sidelines, not saying a word—but she gave a subtle signal to the nearby S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. As soon as Rorschach disappeared into the back of the bar, the agents made their move, quietly slipping out toward the rear entrance.
Just in case he tried to vanish.
Of course, Rorschach had no clue about Carter's precautionary orders. He wasn't a trained spy, after all, and didn't pick up on subtle cues like an agent might.
Not that it would've mattered to him.
He had no plans to run.
If he wanted to leave, no number of agents would've been able to stop him anyway.
Unaware of the watchful eyes behind him, Rorschach made his way down a long, narrow hallway. At the end was a small, nearly hidden door—tucked away like something out of a secret lair.
Rorschach raised an eyebrow.
Man, Caliban's paranoia is on another level. You'd think the guy was a most-wanted fugitive or something.
Creak.
As Rorschach pushed the door open, something cold and metallic pressed hard against the side of his head.
It was the big guy from earlier—the one who'd gone to fetch Raven.
He held a handgun firmly in place, his voice low and threatening. "Don't move. One wrong move and I put a hole in your skull."
Rorschach didn't flinch.
He just gave a faint smirk, reached up, and grabbed the barrel of the gun.
Crunch.
The sound of metal warping echoed as Rorschach's fingers crushed the steel. When he let go, the barrel was flattened like a pancake, complete with finger-shaped dents.
The big man gasped, staring like he'd just seen a ghost.
Rorschach didn't say a word. He walked right past him and stepped into the room beyond.
"Rorschach!"
It was Raven's voice.
She was sitting near the center of the room—but a long, razor-sharp blade was held tightly against her neck. The blade was wielded by a fierce-looking woman with long black hair and a deadly presence.
Psylocke.
Next to her sat Caliban, looking far less friendly than before.
"What the hell is going on?" Rorschach asked, confused.
He'd come here for a simple favor. Paid. Straightforward. This felt way off.
"Caliban's about to ask you the same thing," the pale mutant growled, rising to his feet. He opened a drawer and pulled out a handgun, leveling it at Rorschach. "What did you drag into my bar?"
"Caliban, you've got this wrong!" Raven said quickly, still frozen under Psylocke's blade. "We don't know what happened—I swear!"
"Oh really?" Caliban scoffed. "So it's just a coincidence that the moment you show up, bullets start flying outside?"
He wasn't buying it.
"Come on, Caliban. If we meant you harm, would you still be standing?" Rorschach muttered, already irritated by the paranoia.
"Then start talking. Who are those agents? Why'd you bring them here?"
Rorschach didn't answer.
He could already tell this was spiraling into chaos, and there was no point trying to explain anymore.
His eyes locked on Caliban's gun.
Zap!
Two narrow beams of heat vision blasted from Rorschach's eyes, instantly melting the weapon in Caliban's hands.
Psylocke reacted fast—she kept the blade on Raven with one hand, while the other summoned a glowing purple psychic blade that slashed straight at Rorschach.
Whoosh!
But by the time her strike landed, Rorschach was gone—vanished in a blur of movement.
Zap!
Two more heat rays fired.
Psylocke's sword flew from her hand, clattering across the floor.
Now visibly shaken, she realized just how dangerous this guy really was.
Still holding her psychic energy, she dropped Raven and summoned a glowing whip of purple light. It cracked like lightning as she swung it at Rorschach.
But Rorschach moved like a cat—twisting, dodging, slipping past the strike with ease.
CRACK!
The whip slammed into the floor, gouging a long gash through concrete.
Again she lashed out.
CRACK. CRACK. CRACK!
Three more strikes, all missed.
Then—suddenly—Rorschach was right in front of her.
Too close.
His hand shot up and clamped around her neck.
Psylocke froze.
She knew one wrong move, and her neck would snap like a twig.
"Raven," Rorschach said calmly. "Did you get what we came for?"
Raven nodded. "Yeah. Caliban came through. Took the money, gave me the info."
Things had started out simple enough. But just as she was getting ready to leave, gunfire erupted outside. The ever-suspicious Caliban panicked and ordered her detained.
"Let's go," Raven said, stepping beside Rorschach.
He didn't blame Caliban or Psylocke for the misunderstanding. He hadn't planned to fight them, and now that it was clear they weren't the enemy, he let go of Psylocke and turned to leave with Raven.
Outside the room, Rorschach asked, "So… did Caliban sense anything about Shaw?"
Raven shook her head, a flicker of excitement in her eyes. "No. Shaw isn't within range."
That meant Sebastian Shaw hadn't discovered Xavier's school—not yet.
And that was very good news.
....
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