"This is some kind of psychological trauma aftermath." Harley observed the patient's behavior and explained to Deathstroke. She patted her red dress, since she kept feeling that the howling, screaming Reggie was spraying saliva all over her outfit. "I don't know exactly what happened to him, but he seems to be afraid of this clock, or rather, afraid of the hands moving."
"..."
Su Ming did not respond. Instead, he removed his mask and lit a cigarette.
He knew what Second Generation Rorschach was afraid of. This Little Black Guy feared the Doomsday Clock—the arrival of the "Rebirth" event.
But what exactly had Manhattan done to Reggie to leave him like this, unable even to recognize the date?
Doomsday Clock had long since passed, and Multiverse 1 had been rebooted. Yet Reggie seemed frozen on that darkest night. He was terrified, and madness appeared to be his way of escaping it.
"What do we do, Slade?" Diana gripped the lasso in her hand. Reggie was still struggling desperately, forcing her to step on his foot to keep him from jumping up.
"The mask. Where is your mask?" Su Ming had no time for Diana. Time was moving, and the clock hands were getting ever closer to twelve. He seized the collar of the hospital gown and shook the man's head. "Rorschach's mask. If you say you're Rorschach, where is the mask? Tell me!"
Second Generation Rorschach seemed to be a lost cause. In his state, even if he were cured, he would still be useless.
A clumsy imitator. He wanted to become Rorschach, but he could never become Rorschach. The force of his idol had driven him completely insane.
"In... in the darkness. No! I can't see! I can't see?! I'm Rorschach!"
The black man struggled even harder, to the