13102/At Death's Door

At Death's Door
Date of Scene:	23 April 2021
Location:	Westchester, The Bronx
Synopsis:	Rorschach has a tip for the Punisher.
Cast of Characters:	Rorschach, Punisher

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Rorschach has posed:
Dusk settles in over a bad part of the city. Rorschach doesn't believe in good parts of the city. Cleaner, yes, sanitized, bought and paid for. But no less corrupt. No less decadent. No less dying.

He has noticed the existence of the Punisher. Rorschach has tried working with others before. He found it frustrating. Frank's dedication and drive, however, impress. He gets things done. No half measures. No mercy for the wicked. No compromises. Rorschach doesn't believe in compromises when truth and justice are concerned.

So he looked. He found the pattern in the Punisher's most recent strikes, calibrating, finding the criss-crossing intersection. He narrowed it down to a city block. Then he just planted himself, waiting, watching. Not only places frequented, but those avoided. A vigilante in hiding doesn't want attention. Doesn't want a place where people like to go. Rorschach finds the building with the bad reputation, finds the windows that have been smeared over with grease and the fresh lock where there should be nothing. A spent shell casing falling from a pocket down an alley where no one lives.

And so, now, Rorschach knocks on the door of the Punisher's Westchester bolthole. How Frank responds remains to be seen.

Punisher has posed:
It's not often that his hideouts are compromised. It happens, when a persistant enough hunter is on his trail... usually, it's from the FBI or police though.

It's not often that anyone in the vigilante category finds him without being invited. Usually because they know Frank is not someone to fuck around with. He's an expert in tactics... and is infamous for playing dirty. You do not want to go after him on /his/ terms if you value your time.

Rorchach, in his drive, has ignored all of that... and at the hideout where the Punisher went, a hidden camera in the doorframe pivets to see the lunatic, sending a feed to Microchip.

"Uh.... Frank. We have that inkblot mask person at the door of your current bolthole." There's a long five seconds of silence from Frank as he walks over to the laptop and sees the face. His facial expression never wavers as he stares... "set the tazer mine to standby. He found me, despite the precautions. He can find me again, and he isn't exploding the door and ambushing me. He probably wants to talk."

Five seconds later, the door to the apartment opens, with the Punisher in his own trenchcoat and skull vest in plain sight...

.... and a 9mm Beretta pointed right at his head, "What's your business?" There's an icy calm in the Punisher's eyes, but there's no rage. So, there's that, at least.

Rorschach has posed:
Rorschach doesn't flinch away from the gun. He expected it, after all. True, he put his own life at risk, but he was confident enough in Frank's reputation to figure he wouldn't get plugged just for showing his 'face'. The ink squirms a bit across the features of the mask, the heat within responding to his breath, his body heat, the draft from the opening of the door, chaotic and eerie. His voice is a rasp, like flint dragged slow across stone.

"Punisher." he says levelly. "Rorshach. Proposition for you. Can do it inside or in hallway. No preference."

His hands are thrust in his pockets and no doubt wrapped around something that could help even the score if things really went south. He doesn't expect it, but he is always prepared.

Punisher has posed:
The hands are noted; he uses the same trick when he's doing infiltrations. Frank, being the dirty playing bastard he is, would taze himself if it meant he could get up quicker than the other guy.

There's a ten second pause before the Punisher steps back into the apartment, far in. Then, he keeps his eyes on Rorschach as he turns his head towards a couch in the living room, and nods to it.

Rorschach has posed:
Rorschach doesn't waste any time and walks inside. But he does turn his back on Frank, going on by. Another display of trust, it seems, or, at least, research.

His hand comes out of his pocket and he tosses a polaroid onto the coffee table in front of the couch. "Jackie Giardello. Jackie G. Legbreaker for the Rose mob. You know him. Put eight ounces of lead in his lower intestine six months ago. He crawled away, got sewn up by a backroom doc. Cheap. Infection kept him down another three months. I found him."

The polaroid shows a picture of the man through the window of a warehouse, playing cards with some other men and clearly guarding some sort of safe. "He should be there two more days. All yours. Consider him a peace offering."

Punisher has posed:
Sometimes, he let's street trash suffer from the wounds. It's just another form of punishment to those who make others suffer for their own selfish ends. For a mob enforcer like this? The man has done far worse to others. A gut wound typically means a slow and painul death from your own body killing itself.

To hear the man survived against all odds shows a willpower no one knew he had. It just means the Punisher will have to do far worse to be sure the job is done... Far worse, and a guaranteed death.

That means he'll need to be captured to send a message; if the Punisher targets you, he will eventually finish the job if he didn't get it the first time. Do everyone a favor and just take yourself out of the gene pool.

"I'll confirm this for myself. Microchip usually keeps an eye on this stuff, but most of the trash I deal with usually don't disappear for months." His eyes glance from the photo, to Rorschach, "Why bring this to me?"

Rorschach has posed:
Rorschach has his hands back in his pockets. "Microchip? You have a hacker? Makes sense. Don't like computers. Too many numbers. Too many cameras. Don't like being watched."

"You don't like loose ends. Don't blame you. You want to finish the job. Would take him myself, but too much firepower around. Not my style. You'll do better."

"We have the same goal. Eliminate scum. Different methods. Same end. I find things others miss. Slip through the cracks. I can see things. Other people won't see. Can't see," he says. "I am very good at what I do. But I can't do everything. Allies are good, if they can't be compromised. You can't be compromised."

Punisher has posed:
"There's no such thing as a nut too tough to crack if you have the tool for it." The Punisher grabs the photo and examines it, "I was the one who got Trask back to the States after he ran to Russia. THAT was hell to get into. The mob doesn't compare to corporate hired mercs."

His eyes flick back to Rorschach, "Are you offering intel for targets you can't get to on your own?"

Rorschach has posed:
Rorschach keeps his head level, "Yes. Threads to tug on. So very many deserving punishment."

"Some I will keep for myself, of course. Special ones who require my special sort of attention," he says. Rorschach's reputation shows him willing to kill but, more often, he leaves criminals maimed and crippled, ruining hands, spines, breaking them down, leaving them in hospitals for years. He punishes with pain, first and foremost. Then, of course, there are some he does finish. Last year, Frank will recall hearing about a man who had a habit of kidnapping children being found drowned in a bucket of bleach. Where the mop was found is better not said.

Punisher has posed:
"I'm open to this. I have people all over that feed me intel." Punisher notes with a hint of casualness. "You'd be one of the few vigilantes in on it. What can you tell me about his current setup?"

Rorschach has posed:
Rorschach makes a rough sound in his throat, a weird moan and grunt combination, that sounds like HURM. He's not conscious of it, his body going stiff for a moment. It's a tic, a tell, a stim. Something that shows his brain's cranking into gear.

"Rose mob's running a big poker game Saturday night. Pot paid in cash, in advance. He's part of the crew sitting on the money until the game gets underway. Untraceable bills, easy for you to liquidate. Four men, all with pistols and two shotguns. Sleeping in the same room on shifts."

Punisher has posed:
"Should be easy enough to gas them all out and bomb the room itself. Not much prep time, but you only need an hour for a gas canister and planting a remote bomb." Punisher tosses the picture at Rorschach then, "I can get the stragglers when they leave the building."

Rorschach has posed:
Rorschach grunts, "I prefer to get in close. Like to work with my hands," he says. He looks down at the picture and leaves it where it lies. He turns and heads for the door, his hands thrust back into his pockets.

"Kill him. Don't. Thought you'd like to know. Maybe I'll tell you more if I find them. Have my own prey to hunt. Time to make them squeal," he says. He pauses and adjusts the fedora atop his masked head.

"Be seeing you, Frank."

Punisher has posed:
"Frank Castle is dead; he died with his family. Call me the Punisher." Punisher watches him leave, and doesn't stop him. Instead, he takes a flip phone from a trenchcoat pocket... before he thinks better of it. The man has a serious issue with electronics and cuts them out of his life likely event. Even a secure flip phone won't be good enough for him, "The only person who gets to call me that is Microchip."

Rorschach has posed:
Rorschach grunts. "Fair. Rorschach is my real face, too. The other...isn't real. Not anymore. Maybe never was. Hurm."

And he walks out into the night to leave Frank with his memories and his rage. Rorschach is never entirely alone. He hears the voices often enough. And he can follow the trails they leave for him...