A Promise

"Are there any superhero rallies coming up? The kind Homelander would attend?"

Rorschach handed Kimiko a smartphone so she could start learning to use it.

Learning sign language would be far too much trouble for him.

If they ever argued, they'd look like two ninjas making hand signs at each other. He'd leave the sign language to Frenchie.

After all, Frenchie had been smitten with Kimiko from the moment he saw her.

He could let the two of them take their time learning to understand each other.

"First, let me tell you all why you should listen to me."

Rorschach called a brief meeting amid the weapons and liquor bottles scattered across the table.

"Butcher, Becca is still alive, and I can take you to her. After eight years of searching, you'll finally get an answer."

"Marvin, Soldier Boy is alive too, but he's on the other side of the ocean. We'll help you deal with him, though not anytime soon. You'll need to keep yourself under control until then."

"Wolf Girl, as promised, I'll help reunite you with your brother."

Kimiko nodded, her eyes full of hope.

"As for you, Frenchie, I'm sorry to tell you that the creep A-Train planted a camera in The Female's room. It's only a matter of time before he realizes you were there."

By the time Rorschach finished speaking, fire burned in both Marvin's and Butcher's eyes.

Whatever this man's background, they were now willing to become his tools.

A-Train was busy fending off Vought International's relentless attacks. One secretly signed contract after another was being voided.

Vought was also clawing back some of his earnings because he'd broken his word.

That was Vought International for you. Nobody knew how to squeeze someone dry better than they did.

But once A-Train discovered something had happened to Wolf Girl, the investigation would only intensify.

So Frenchie needed to go into hiding with Wolf Girl, then appear at the right moment to deliver a killing blow.

Vought International hadn't responded clumsily. Someone must have seen that things were going wrong and sent Stormfront in to steady the situation.

She had been a hero since World War II. Whether she went by Liberty or Stormfront, she had always been one of Vought's best products.

She obeyed orders and drew public attention.

Black Noir, the veteran Vought had promoted in the previous generation with a "blood for blood" image, remained an exception: beneath that armor, no one could tell what sex Black Noir was.

The Seven now had three men and three women.

That was a change from the days when Maeve had been the only female hero carrying the team while also being involved with Homelander.

Starlight and Stormfront only needed more publicity. Their movies would soon be made, and they would gain plenty of fans.

After all, The Deep was gone, and A-Train had been forced to give back a great deal of what he'd gained over the past few years.

With ample funds at its disposal, Vought's team still showed no signs of panic. That surprised Rorschach.

A hero's carefully crafted image falling apart was serious.

It meant every dollar the fans had spent before had gone down the drain.

There were no refunds, either. At best, they could try to recoup a little by selling their merchandise secondhand.

After going through that, anger would drive them into a formidable force of public opinion.

Vought International could only keep a low profile and hope something new would draw their attention away.

By rights, Rorschach had already taken out The Deep, their sex symbol, and A-Train, whom Vought had hyped into a winner despite his poor numbers and all his boasting.

Yet Vought hadn't panicked. Instead, it had delayed A-Train's departure.

They had probably made Shockwave some substantial promises.

And then Stormfront had joined. To Rorschach, she was the truly unpredictable factor.

"In a few days, Samaritan's Embrace, a charity backed by Vought, will hold a gathering for believers."

"Oh, them."

Rorschach remembered the man who could stretch his arms. He seemed to be a fervent member of the church.

A few days ago, in that place where people barely had enough to eat, hadn't they given a little boy a folding bed and a laptop?

"Sounds like an interesting place. We should go."

"Frenchie, stay here with Wolf Girl and teach her. I still have a pile of things to prepare."

"And remember to cover your face. Don't let anyone track you down."

Rorschach laid a list he'd prepared earlier on the table. The others were about to head to the gathering.

"So why don't you call him Mother's Milk like the rest of us?"

Butcher sauntered beside Rorschach, posing the question as if it had only just occurred to him.

In truth, he wanted to string the kid up right then and there and force him to reveal everything he knew about what had happened eight years ago.

But Rorschach knew about Becca, knew what Butcher was like, and wanted to go after Homelander too.

For the moment, Butcher couldn't think of a way to get Rorschach under his control.

With just a few words, this guy had won the obedience of a woman who had been locked in a cage under the watch of two armed guards.

Butcher knew he couldn't take that woman in a fight.

Still, he was close to the truth, and waves of elation kept rising inside him.

With Becca having vanished without a trace, this was one of the few leads he'd found in eight years.

"Oh, they're putting up a gravestone for Becca in a couple of days. Don't go there and cause trouble."

Rorschach opened the system shop to see whether there was any more information he could buy with his few remaining points.

"She's not dead!"

Butcher's voice trembled. Even a man who seemed as ruthless as he did had dreamed the same dream year after year.

In that dream, he and Becca were still a loving couple. They had a dog.

Each morning, as sunlight streamed in, they held each other and greeted the day.

Then, one day, all of it had suddenly disappeared.

Even now, he carried a dog toy, as though his old life had never truly left him.

"She's alive. She's doing fine." Rorschach nodded. "But you need to stay calm and keep moving."

Rorschach knew Homelander was closing in on the truth too. He might have been a weaker version of Superman, but in theory, his brain was more developed than an ordinary person's.

What a waste. He never used it, so he'd remained an overgrown infant.

"Are you sure that bastard's still alive?" Marvin asked through clenched teeth.

He had a wife and a precious daughter, but a shadow hung over his life that he could never escape.

That was why he'd developed compulsions: the knives and forks had to be perfectly aligned, and he had to check the gas stove three times before bed.

It was as though those rituals alone could keep the nightmare of that night from returning to his family's door.

Only then could he scrape by in a world where the number of superhero fans kept growing.

If he could kill Soldier Boy with his own hands and avenge his family...

Even a big man like Marvin couldn't stop two streams of tears from running down his face at the thought.

"And you? What are you doing all this for?"

Butcher stared at the figure ahead of him and called out before he could stop himself.

"Pack up. We still have to get to that gathering. If we're late, there might not be any tickets left."

Rorschach did not answer his question.