Quote from "The Watchmen" from conversation between Rorschach and 
a prison doctor.
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"1975. Kidnap case. Perhaps you remember. 
Blaire Roche. Six years old. 
Kidnappers believed she was connected to Roche chemical fortune. 
Stupid mistake. Father was bus driver. No money at all.

Days dragged by. No word from kidnappers. Thought of little child, 
abused, frightened. Didn't like it. Personal reasons.
Decided to intervene. Promised parents I'd return her unharmed.

Visited underworld bars and began hurting people. Put fourteen in 
hospital needlessly. Fifteenth gave me an address. 

Disused dressmakers in Brooklyn. Bad neighborhood. 
Smelled of damp plaster and stained mattresses.

Arrived there at dusk. No lights on in the building. Something was 
making noise in wasteland at rear. Attack dogs. Two german shepherds, 
fighting over knob of bone. Didn't seem interested in me. 
Decided not to use rear entrance anyway. 
Went in through front, like respectable visitor."

(Rorschach searches building and finds remains of a burned dress in 
oven and freshly sharpened butchers knives in the kitchen. He looks 
at a saw and cleaver and then at a freshly scarred chopping block. 
Thinking, he stares out at the dogs fighting over a bone. He freezes 
when he realizes that the bone is a femur. He walks out to the dogs 
with the cleaver in his hand and raises it high.)

"Shock of impact ran along my arm. Jet of warmth spattered on chest. 
Like hot faucet. It was Kovacs who said 'mother' then, muffled under latex.
It was Kovacs who closed his eyes.

It was Rorschach who opened them again.

According to my informant, man using the premises named Gerald Grice. 
Out drinking when I called. Returned to dressmakers at ten forty-five. 

Dark then. 
Dark as it gets."

(A shabby looking man comes walking along the fence to the backyard. 
He calls to the dogs and grunts when they don't answer. When he sees 
the broken lock on the front door he pauses. Carefully he enters, 
turning on the light. Walking through the house he finds no one. 
Looking out the kitchen window he screams as a dog's carcass is 
thrown at him through the window. He backs out in the hall and start 
shouting that he hasn't done anything. He screams again as the 
second carcass is thrown through the glass door behind him, knocking 
him down. His screaming stops as he spots Rorschach's legs beside him. 
Slowly he looks up at his tormenter. 
As Rorschach drags him up and pushes him into the room with the stove 
he protests his innocence. As he is handcuffed to the stove he 
stammers that Rorschach can't do anything without proof. When 
Rorschach puts a saw on the table and grabs a can and start splashing 
the contents around he regains some of his wits.)

"Hey! Hey, are you crazy? That's kerosene!"

"Yes. Shouldn't bother trying to saw through handcuffs. Never make it 
in time."

"What do you mean? What am I supposed to..."

(Rorschach lights a match.)

"Oh god. Oh, Jesus, NO! You're kidding. You have to be kidding."

(Rorschach drops the match. Screams come from inside the building as 
he exits.)

"Stood in the street. Watched it burn. Imagined limbless felt torsos 
inside; breasts blackening; bellies smoldering; bursting into flame 
one by one. 

Watched for an hour. 
Nobody came out.

Stood in the firelight, sweltering. Bloodstain on chest like map of 
violent new continent. Felt cleansed. Felt dark planet turn under my feet 
and knew what cats know that makes them scream like babies in the night.

Looked at sky through smoke heavy with human fat and God was not there. 
The cold, suffocating dark goes on forever, and we are alone. 

Live our lives, lacking anything better to do. Device reason later. 

Born from oblivion; 
bear children, hell-bound as ourselves; 
go into oblivion. 
There is nothing else.

Existence is random. Has no pattern save what we imagine after staring 
at it for too long. No meaning save what we choose to impose.

This rudderless world is not shaped by vague metaphysical forces. It is 
not God who kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny 
that feeds them to the dogs. 

It is us.
Only us.

Streets stank of fire. The void breathed hard on my heart, turning its 
illusions to ice, shattering them. Was reborn then, free to scrawl own 
design on this morally blank world. 

Was Rorschach.

Does that answer your questions doctor?"