Friend or Foe? || Rorschach

Barbara listened to the advice Rorschach gave her and processed it carefully. Alright, so he liked dealing with the desperate types. She could work with that. She'd done her fair share of grifting to get certain people in the GCPD to appeal to some of the criminals that crossed her desk. She wasn't an expert, but she wasn't bad. She was pretty sure she could at least get an audience, if not get Cade to talk a little bit. Before she could respond, though, Rorschach had already disappeared.

She huffed. Not in irritation, really, but in surprise. She wasn't expecting to be left on her own on the street to come up with a story on her own, but here she was. She paced back and forth, thinking quickly. Alright, so his daughter was running the bar. She could work with that. Maybe she could appeal to her as a woman to help get an audience with her father. But how? She stopped pacing for a moment and rummaged around in her purse she'd secured under her coat. When she had her hands on a mirror, she pulled it out and looked at herself. Yep, there was a bruise around her eye starting to form. If she had a bruise, maybe it could have come from a boyfriend? That might work.

She thought a little quicker and came up with a few more details to her story before she messed her hair up a little, smeared her makeup as though she'd been crying, and jostled her clothing as if she'd been in a serious struggle. She jumped in place for a few moments, working herself into shortness of breath, and jogged her way to the door, quickly adopting a more frightened demeanor. She glanced nervously around, eyes darting from person to person as though she didn't want to be there, quickly heading to the bar as she tried not to make eye contact with anyone.

When she got to the bar, she did see a woman there that looked like she was working. Maybe she was Laura? She had no way of knowing. She made a small wave, as though she didn't really want to bother her. Part of her did get a little nervous, for real. As though all of this was starting to sink in. She leaned slightly forward over the bar and managed to squeak out, "Uhm ... Excuse me?" She glanced around again, looking absolutely frightened that someone might be following her, and with the bruise on her face and no context, she was sure she would get a little attention for it. She could hope for pity, at the very least. After barely a moment, she barely raised her voice, but spoke with a little more urgency. "Excuse me, can you please help me?"

The fire escape was unusual, Rorschach noticed...it didn't level out on the ground. It was kept racked up about a story high. Perhaps it was Cade's bravado showing. Didn't think anyone would be brave enough to try to use it to break in.
How wrong he was.
Rorschach had actually never seen Cade himself. The man seemed to mostly stay hidden in his little lair. He had his...secretary? Secretaries? Plural perhaps....they made most of his public announcements. Especially when it came to Coney Island.
But with Wilson Fisk seemingly gone from the city, Cade was the closest source of information for Barbara. And certainly owed Rorschach a good punch or two. He'd get a confession out of the gangster. One way or another.

Rorschach walked over to the adjacent wall. He ran at full speed at the wall of the Wicked Suit and banked off of it, gripping onto the flooring of the fire escape walkway tightly. He hoisted himself up and carefully snuck toward one of the windows. The windows were door height...doors? Strange. There was a balcony with flowers all around it, the perfect spot to get in. He leaped onto it and checked the glass door...It was locked. Of course. He examined the floor he could see through the crack of the curtains....undoubtedly rigged. He didn't trust this. Too easy.
He looked up and leaped to the top of the doorway, pulling himself carefully to his feet on it and began to climb the wall to the roof. Once there, he walked to the other side of the building, facing the street, and looked down. No one rushing to where he had come. No one on watch. Cade was careless. Or...confident?

Moving over toward the roof access point...it too was locked.
"Hurm..." Rorschach grunted.
He set to work on the lock, swiftly managed to jimmy it open, slipping inside and closing the door again tightly and softly.

Laura listened to the womans story, her expression continuously darkening in anger towards this fictional boyfriend. by the time she was done talking, Laura's fists were clenched and her eyes carried a dangerous glare to them whenever she glanced towards the main entrance as if daring this man to walk in right now. "he is a cowardly cretin." was Laura's summery of everything she'd been told. to Laura, loyalty was one of the most important things there was, so cheating was an unacceptable thing to do. If you no longer wished to be with someone it was your duty to leave them before moving on to another.

that would be bad enough, but to strike someone that was not a fighter was far far worse. the idea that hitting a woman is wrong had honestly never occurred to Laura. she was a woman and she could beat almost anyone in a fight therefor gender was irrelevant. if you could stand up for yourself you were a fighter and someone to challenge, if you could not fight you were an innocent to be left alone, there was no honour in attacking them and no excuse. Simple. to the point. and concrete as a principle.

Laura looked the redhead in the eyes, and spoke clearly and slowly, to make sure the panicking woman would understand everything she said. "you do not need to be afraid. He will never touch you again. I promise." Laura singled Kevin over who gave her a gesture to show he'd be right there as soon as he had cleared the table he was at. Laura nodded to that and turned back to her.

"He is following you." It wasn't a question. the bruise was too fresh, the woman too scared and desperate. "he will be here soon then? you will tell Kevin what he looks like. when he enters, Kevin will tell me. I will break your boyfriends left arm in two places." This plan flowed naturally from Laura like it was the easiest thing in the world. which it was. "he will not call the police. No fully grown man wishes to report to the police a teenage girl so effortlessly beat him down. I will give you my phone number in front of him so that he knows if he so much as looks at you again I will know."

she let that hang in the air and smiled. "Even if this was the base of some crime lord, which it is not." Laura wasn't stupid. you didn't admit your business was a front for crime to strangers under any circumstance. "You want to let me help you. I do not charge those in need."

Kevin was a lanky, awkward looking young man who came up to them laden with a tray of used and dirty glasses. "Anything up Laura?" he started before seeing the redheads state and jumping a little in surprise, the glasses rattling. " Ah shoot that's.... you alright miss?" he asked with concern, pulling out a hankie chief and offering it her.

Laura felt a little pride in her employee for having the correct response. "she will tell you who to look out for. you signal me when he arrives." her words made Kevin groan loudly and give Laura an irritated look.

"I ain't cleaning up the mess you make. there's only so many times I'm going to mop up blood before I quit." He warned with a long suffering tone.

Laura laughed a little at the reaction. "Fine. Just pay attention to what she says alright?"

Barbara was just about to sweat about trying to figure out how to describe someone that didn't exist when attention in the bar shifted. She could feel everyone glance the same direction and looked up. A short, red haired man with a mask was strolling down the stairs. Her mind raced, because she could tell that must have been Artie Cade. The way everyone showed their respect to him, it had to be him. 

For a moment, she was panicked. What if he had seen Rorschach? What if she was alone now? She didn't know what to do, but she managed to keep her head long enough to channel that panic into a more convincing act. "You're ... You're Boss Cade, aren't you?" She fidgeted and looked around. There was a gentle murmur from the patrons, and she could hear someone mutter that she should mind her own business. That was a good clue that she was on the right track. 

"I'm sorry .... Can you please help me? I know you help people ... disappear. Please. I don't have a lot of money, but I can pay you! Please, just hear me out!" She was clearly distressed, and she even went so far as to wince from the pain of her bruise. It didn't hurt that much, but it gave a better impression of her for what she was trying to do. She even started to cry a little bit. She hoped that the more desperate and vulnerable she looked, the easier it would be to get a personal audience with Cade. 

Nodding steadily at what Laura told him, Artie appraised the young, frightened girl in front of him and looked up at her eyes and her wound. His face went from pleasant and even relaxed to steadily more tense and irritated.
Who caused this that the girl felt she had to go to Boss Cade to get help?
Cops were never any help, unless they were his in his own affair.
Running could never work.
He mentally shrugged and supposed that this seemed like the most logical course of action anyway.

Artie nodded and was about to speak when one of the patrons behind Artie, clearly in a mild stupor, stepped closer behind Artie and scowled down at Barbara.
"Youu thhink yoou cann jus c'min heere an' talk ta' Boss Cade?" he growled, "Askkin him fer anything, youu'd bes grovel ya lil whor-"
The man was cut off when Artie's cane met his middle, preventing him from moving closer.
Artie had kept his eyes on Barbara, but now his expression was blank and unreadable, which hid the rage he felt inside his chest, building up to overflow.
"Roy...." Artie purred, slowly turning to look up at the man as he put the metal head of his cane to the man's jaw, "...I've told you not once...not twice...but four times you're outta here...but you keep sneaking in the back sayin it's a job for Frankie Two-Times, ISN'T THAT RIGHT?"
The drunk man in question, Roy, cowered at the much smaller man and backed away from him. But Artie kept his cane in place as if it were a leash, moving him back through the crowd which began to scatter.
"This makes number five, then." Artie hissed, "And don't you never....EVER....talk to a young lady like THAT."

The first bash to the head sent Roy staggering. The second sent him stumbling. The third had him reeling. The fourth drove the crowd away and had him on the floor. And the fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth and ninth meant there wouldn't be an open casket funeral.
Artie staggered back against the bar counter, seething, but slowly calmed himself and slicked back his hair. He snapped his fingers and two of his goons came out of nowhere and hauled the body away, a third tending to the spill of blood. All routine, of course, and soon the clamor began to rise again steadily as Artie smiled warmly and turned to look up at the girl again.
"Shall we?" he asked in a friendly voice as he offered his hand and began to lead her to the back room, "Laura, hold the drink when the boy gets back, huh? Clearin' out the back room so if they wanna stick around the Gotellorni's can have the good stuff."

Barbara's already pale complexion lost even more color when she watched Artie Cade bash in some poor guy's face. Sure, that guy was trying to insult her, but she was used to that, being around criminals every day. The longer she stared, though, the more it started to settle in that she was willingly about to go into a back room alone with  this man. Alone. Without Rorschach. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this after all. Then again, the fear was also helping to sell her story that she wasn't there to get information, so she was trying to use it to her advantage.

When he had turned his attention toward her again, she jumped, staring at him like he was crazy. He obviously was, but she was there searching for "help". It was the best idea to go ahead and slowly ease off the bar stool and follow him, however reluctant she was to do it. Her heart was racing, for sure. She had no idea if he was just volatile, or if she was going to be generally safe in a room alone with him. Where the heck was Rorschach? 

When she was led into the back room, her mind raced to appraise the situation. Alright, so she wasn't in an office. There wasn't any distracting him so she could rifle through his papers, though with an unstable man like him that probably wasn't a great idea to begin with. She edged her way into the room and stayed standing until offered a seat, appearing to be afraid to sit down until given permission. 

"Mr. Cade, I'm sorry for just dropping in on you," she said, voice trembling. "I just .... didn't know where else to go. No one would believe me, so no one would help me. Your bartender, Laura, was so nice, I ..." she trailed off, as though she had gotten off track because she was so nervous. Which was kind of true. And had Laura called Artie father? Maybe it was best not to mention that out loud. Give the appearance that she wasn't retaining basic information she was hearing. It might make him more willing to talk if she started asking questions. 

This girl seemed genuinely stressed about...something. Artie couldn't quite put his finger on it and chalked it up to the recent smattering he had spread all over his floor. Still, he'd do his best to put her at ease. Who knows, maybe her father owned a shop in Fisk's territory that might be willing to sign up for Artie's protection as he weaved his way further into the city. His reach was longer and longer these days. Every little bit helped.

"Ohhhh no no no," Artie said as he gestured to one of the many luxurious, leather wingback chairs around one of the tables in the back room, sitting in one himself across the table, "Don't ever apologize for lookin' for help, not in this dirty town."
He permitted himself a wide grin, stretching half under his mask.
"Laura's a good kid," he said as he lit a fresh cigarette, "Best daughter a man could ask for. And the boys around here respect her, which makes it easier for me."
He exhaled smoke at the ceiling and looked around the room for the drink cart. Spying it nearby, he shook his head.
"Oh where ARE my manners?" he said as he limped over to it, pouring a glass of Scotch, "You've got to steady your nerves. No no, you sit."
He waved a hand to prevent her from standing up as he poured another glass, two finger's worth, of bourbon and limped back over to the table, setting the glass in front of her as he returned to his seat.

"NOW then..." he said as he took another drag on his cigarette, "What's this uh...problem of yours. What doesn't anybody believe you abo-"
Artie cut himself short when he noticed the feeling that his scars were bleeding under his mask.
"Oh...!" he said, genuinely embarrassed, "Uh, excuse me."
He turned from her in the chair, withdrawing his handkerchief and catching the blood as it dribbled out slightly in two trickles. In a matter of moments, it was gone and he turned back to the girl, pocketing the handkerchief again.
"Nothing to be concerned about, just a uh...an old wound." he said pleasantly, "But back to you...tell me all about it. I promise I'll help you in any way I can."