"Andrew!"
"Andrew!"
Two furious shouts rang out. The remaining two were stunned.
Andrew... had just been punched to death?
Impossible.
Even in his untransformed state, Andrew's physical abilities far surpassed that of a normal human. So how could that kid—no, that thing—kill him so easily?
But there was no time to process what just happened.
Rorschach was already stepping forward again, calm and composed, his presence pressing down on them like a storm.
Click! Click!
Bones cracked and bodies expanded. The two remaining assassins—Lem and his partner—transformed rapidly. Their frames stretched, muscles bulged, and long hair sprouted across their growing forms.
In the blink of an eye, the two men were gone—replaced by towering werewolves.
"Werewolves?" Rorschach blinked, momentarily caught off guard.
He hadn't expected to see werewolves. But if they existed… that meant vampires likely did too.
So that's what Lem meant earlier when he mentioned the "living dead."
"Shit! Oh no, it's a werewolf!"
"How the hell are there werewolves?!"
The S.H.I.E.L.D. agents panicked. Fear gripped their faces.
Even Howard Stark's expression twisted into something grim and aged, like a flower withering under the first frost of winter.
Werewolves weren't common knowledge among civilians, but S.H.I.E.L.D. had long been aware of their existence. It was part of their job to deal with the unnatural, after all.
Howard Stark understood immediately just how dangerous the situation had become.
Conventional weapons couldn't kill werewolves—at least, not easily.
And after transforming? They weren't just monsters. They were monsters with intelligence and bloodlust.
Unless you had high-powered explosives, going toe-to-toe with one was suicide.
"Kid, get back!" Howard yelled. "That's a goddamn werewolf!"
Then he turned to the remaining agents. "What are you standing around for? Go help him!"
ROAR!
A guttural, beastly howl shook the room as one of the werewolves charged at Rorschach.
Its jaw gaped wide, revealing jagged, saliva-drenched fangs. Its clawed hands gleamed like blades under the light, each swing screaming of death.
"Be careful!" Howard shouted instinctively.
But Rorschach didn't flinch.
"Werewolves, huh? Let's see if you can handle this."
He rotated his shoulder lazily and threw a straight punch.
Howard Stark nearly leapt from the ground in shock.
CRACK!
The werewolf flew backwards like a ragdoll shot out of a cannon. It crashed through a wall and collapsed to the floor in a heap, its chest caved in like a smashed watermelon.
It didn't move again.
Silence.
The bar went dead quiet.
Every pair of eyes—S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, Anton Vanko, Howard Stark—all stared at Rorschach like he'd just performed divine magic.
That werewolf was fully transformed.
And it still died in one punch.
Even Captain America couldn't do that.
Howard Stark's mind reeled.
"This... this is impossible."
Lem's thoughts were spiraling.
As a werewolf himself, he knew what kind of power they wielded. Their strength was unmatched. Their resilience, terrifying.
To see one of them die like that—so fast, so easily—it shattered everything he thought he knew.
"Monster..." he whispered.
People had always called them monsters. But now? Compared to Rorschach?
He was the real monster.
"We're leaving!"
Lem turned without hesitation. There was no point in fighting. Howard Stark didn't matter anymore. He just needed to escape.
He bolted toward the back—fast.
But Rorschach wasn't letting anyone leave.
He crouched, then stomped hard.
CRACK!
The floor split beneath his feet. The raw force launched him forward like a missile.
In an instant, he landed right in front of Lem—cutting him off.
Cornered, Lem had no choice.
He roared and lunged.
But before he could strike, Rorschach casually reached out and caught him by the throat.
The werewolf froze mid-lunge, legs still pumping, claws flailing uselessly.
He couldn't move.
He couldn't breathe.
His claws scratched and tore at Rorschach's body, trying desperately to break free.
But it was like trying to shred steel with fingernails. His attacks barely left red marks.
"Same claws, same rage," Rorschach muttered, calm as ever. "But compared to Sabretooth? You're nothing."
Sabretooth's claws could slice through a car like butter. These barely scratched the surface.
That thought actually made Rorschach smile.
"Let's end this."
BANG!
A second punch.
Lem went limp instantly, his head drooping as his massive frame sagged lifelessly in Rorschach's grip.
Rorschach let go, casually tossing the body aside like it weighed nothing.
[Mission complete. Congratulations, host. +50 Origin Points.]
A robotic voice chimed in Rorschach's mind.
Fifty points wasn't a lot—but it was still something.
A mosquito's leg was still meat, as the saying went.
He checked the system. The points weren't enough to push the overall unlock progress, but they could enhance a single stat.
Rorschach didn't spend them just yet.
No need to rush. He'd save them for a better opportunity.
For now… the job was done.
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