"Roooorschach!!!"
Inside the precinct, Chief Griffin's office once again erupted with an earth‑shaking roar.
The officers walking past the door hunched their shoulders and sped up to clear the "blast zone." Only Ginny screwed up her courage, pressed herself against the doorframe, and leaned in to eavesdrop on what punishment the chief was handing out.
"You screwed it up! You screwed everything up!"
"Do you know who called me this morning? The mayor! The district attorney! Even the damn governor's secretary!"
"Kid—no, ancestor! You motherf*cker, can you rein in that temper of yours once in a while?!"
"This is a world where compromise is necessary. You need to learn the art of compromise. It won't do you any harm!"
With that, Chief Griffin hurled a stack of newspapers into Rorschach's arms.
Rorschach, still sporting bandages on his face, took them without a word and glanced down, then froze.
"Officer Delivers Vigilante Beating to Champ in Cage—Justice or Overreach?"
"Champion Falls, Cop Stands Tall: 'Vigilante Justice' in the Octagon"
"In the Cage: A Clash Between Law and Morality"
"Cop KOs Champion: Victory for Law Enforcement, or Failure of the Law?"
"What the—f*ck?!"
Rorschach swore in irritation. He had taken out a public menace, and in the reporters' hands he had been turned into a lawless vigilante.
"Chief, this is slander!" he protested. "You know exactly how it went. Sapp resisted arrest first, I only—"
"Enough, enough. Now you're scared? Where was that before?" The chief waved him off impatiently, looking at him like a great disappointment.
"Seriously, if you're dead set on taking matters into your own hands, couldn't you at least call me first? You pull some surprise stunt like that and I don't even have time to prep a response."
Rorschach held his tongue but muttered inwardly: if he had called ahead, there would have been no chance to lay into Sapp, let alone enjoy it that much.
"Sigh. With you on my plate, I'm not sure I'll make it to retirement in one piece. If Mary were still here…" The chief cut himself off mid‑sentence.
He shook his head and let out a helpless sigh.
"Don't worry about the papers. It's pretty obvious UFC's front office and Sapp's agent are behind them. Just head back to the South Side and stick to patrol for a few days. Keep a low profile."
Rorschach nodded, stood, tossed off a casual salute, and left the office in a hurry.
Once he was gone, the chief rubbed his temples, exhausted.
He had originally planned to move Rorschach back to Homicide in the next few days. Now it looked like the kid would have to float in the South Side a while longer.
The real headache was not that Rorschach had beaten up Sapp.
Arena surveillance clearly showed Sapp provoking him first, and they had the victim's statement. Rorschach did not have to worry about charges.
What had the chief truly worried was how closely the city had been watching this fight.
Thanks to Rorschach, the bout now had to be postponed indefinitely, and that was bound to leave a bad taste in the mouths of a lot of Chicago's big shots.
Which meant that from here on out, getting Rorschach promoted again would not just be a matter of cracking a few big cases.
At that thought, the chief suddenly remembered that Rorschach seemed to get along pretty well with Ginny…
If Ginny's father was willing to lend a hand, maybe Rorschach would not just get out of patrol work—he might even land straight in CTU.
That was a full‑on special‑privilege outfit.
The chief finally relaxed a little. He had watched Rorschach grow up and really could not stand the idea of such a talented cop stuck pounding the pavement forever.
He lit a cigar, opened his laptop, and pulled up something fun to take the edge off.
Computer on, video site open.
A few keystrokes later, the clip of Rorschach and Sapp's fight in the octagon from a few hours ago started playing.
"Beautiful! Hit him harder!"
"Hit him! Beat that arrogant ni—"
Out in the hallway.
Ginny hurried to catch up with Rorschach, studying his expression anxiously.
They did not speak until they were back in the squad car. When he still had not said a word, Ginny finally could not hold it in.
"I don't know what everyone else thinks," she said seriously, "but as far as I'm concerned, you didn't do a single thing wrong this morning."
Rorschach glanced at her, gave a brief nod, and started the engine, heading back toward the South Side for another dull patrol.
Ginny, however, seemed to have flipped a switch and chattered nonstop all the way.
She started by tearing into Sapp's disgusting behavior, then took some potshots at the victim herself, then moved on to cursing out the reporters and rich guys at the scene. Her mouth never stopped moving.
Finally, the noise gave Rorschach a headache. "What's your point? You trying to prove you and I are on the same side?"
"Of course I'm on your side! We're partners!"
Ginny lifted her chin, thumped her chest, and said with conviction, "As for those idiot reporters, don't worry. I'll call my dad later. Once he says the word, those liberal‑leaning papers won't dare keep smearing you. Oh, right—where's my phone?"
She dug around her pockets as she spoke, clearly ready to follow through.
Rorschach smiled helplessly at that and was about to tell her not to worry when his own phone suddenly rang in his pocket.
Still driving, he did not bother to check the ID and put it straight to his ear.
"Hello?"
There was a beat of silence, then a low, authoritative voice barked, "Who the f*ck are you?!"
Rorschach blinked. This was the first time in a long while anyone had talked to him like that. He snapped right back. "I'm the man who's busy f*cking your wife!"
He was warming up to say more when Ginny suddenly shrieked and snatched the phone away from him like a lunatic.
It was the same phone he had confiscated from her yesterday for taking selfies.
She had been so busy the day before that she had passed out without even showering, then the whole Sapp mess had hit that morning. She had almost forgotten he still had it.
Before Rorschach could ask who the rude caller was, Ginny, pale with panic, held the phone carefully to her ear and said, "Dad."
Screech—
The squad car slammed to a stop at the curb. Rorschach whipped his head around, stunned.
"Dad?!"
——————————
On the South Side, in a Mexican‑themed restaurant.
Jose walked straight past a line of customers and servers who greeted him enthusiastically, face like stone.
Once he was back in his office and the door was shut, his rage exploded. He lashed out with a kick and sent his desk crashing over.
"That ungrateful little cop…"
Just thinking about how Rorschach had forced the fight to be postponed indefinitely made his blood boil. He lashed out again, boot thudding into what was left of the desk.
He had pulled every string for this carefully planned event—courting wealthy businessmen, locking down the venue in Chicago, all so he could open the betting lines wide and rake in a fortune.
He had even gone all in and dumped a huge bet on Sapp, his chosen horse, just so that at the audit in seven days, the winnings would cover the funds he had secretly skimmed.
And now, because of Rorschach, it had all blown up.
Thinking of the way his uncle dealt with traitors to the family made Jose's whole body shake.
"F*ck it. Even if it costs me my life, I'm sending that meddling cop straight to hell first."
Grinding his teeth, he bent down to pick up the phone from the floor and dialed with trembling fingers.
"Tuku, we've got a problem."
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