Into The Wild (Rorschach; dated to Saturday XXth of Jan)

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Frustration wasn't new to Danica, especially not on the island. But since New Year's Eve and Delirium's little stunt on the stairs, she had been feeling particularly murderous. Her resolution - to let noone stand in her fucking way from now on - had come true a tad too literally. Not that she was complaining. A rainbow whore in pain was always a delicious sight to behold; she was just annoyed that she never got to do the shoving herself. So near, yet so far.

Which meant that her itch was most definitely not scratched. That might go some way to explaining why she was out in the woods, gun in hand, stomping through the undergrowth despite her heels. She could walk through anything as long as she had Manolo Blahnik by her proverbial side. A bear, a dinosaur, dog, cat, fucking bunny rabbit, it didn't matter. She'd shoot the first thing moving that caught her eye and pissed her off because she was in that kind of fucking mood. It didn't take much to get on the wrong side of Danica Talos and once you were there, it was nigh impossible to escape.

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Beneath his mask - beneath his face- Rorschach smiled. If she wanted more, he was ready to give it to her. He remained silent, still with the focus of a determined predator. He tightened his grip on the claws and once again, darted out in the woman's direction. This time, passing on her right side, Rorschach gouged her arm with the dinosaur claws and disappeared once more behind a tree. He still wore a smile.

He felt adrenaline again; a feeling Rorschach feared the island had stripped him of.

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Danica couldn't keep quiet that time, the stab of fear in her gut and the pain too much for her to keep in. Her scream was filled with anger though and she grabbed her arm, could already feel the blood pouring out. It was a fucking ambush.

Panting, she turned, confused and lost, two things she'd never admit to herself, let alone anyone else. Her mouth was dry from sucking in air.

"Son of a bitch!" The gun shook a little in her hand from the strain of holding it up. Part of her expected her biceps to fall the fuck out of her arms. They burned. Her gaze darted everywhere at once.

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Rorschach could tell from the state of the woman's voice that she was in pain. The claws between his knuckles had her blood on them so he stepped out to face her.

Instead of saying anything- words would fail at adequately expressing his victory- Rorschach simply laughed as he stared at the woman.

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Laughter, fucking laughter. She had never let King get away with laughing at her, she'd never let anyone, and just because she was the one dripping blood on the goddamn forest floor didn't mean she was about to start making exceptions.

The noise spun her around, finger squeezing the trigger instinctively as soon as she saw a blur, a shot firing into the woods, echoing. It was close but not close enough. She was incensed, out for blood herself; she growled in the back of her throat and brought up the camcorder, using up the last of her adrenaline to keep both gun and camcorder aimed right at him. Her words grated. "Any last words, you fucktard?" If nothing else, his imminent death would make a great home movie to watch on those rainy island days.

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The bullets missed. Rorschach planned on running out after her. Tackling the woman to the ground with a severe slicing of the jugular was the goal. But he stopped when he saw the camera. He was caught. Instead of finishing the task and teaching the thief a lesson, Rorschach turned and disappeared into the darkness.

He hoped he hadn't been too clearly caught on tape.

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That had always been her fucking problem, liking to taunt, to weaken her prey before the kill. Grimwood had once likened her to a Bond villain because of it; he'd spent the next short while growing back three of his digits for his troubles. Danica hadn't exactly been expecting this particular masked fucker to confess to his sins but she hadn't been planning on letting him get away either. He was there one second and gone the next; just another indication that she needed to shoot first and talk later.

The thumping of her heart was so loud. She closed her eyes and let out a breath, opening them back up quickly, fully expecting another attack. Her feet moved of their own accord, in the opposite direction, and pretty soon she was running, freeing a numb hand and clamping it over the bloodiest of her arms.