Come back here! He’s dead, Rorschach. While everyone’s distracted, we thought
we’d bring you a housewarming gift. Something from the machine shop. Hey, boss, you notice? None of that “small world,
tall order” crap. He knows once we slice open his lock,
he’s next on the block. Fat chance. You’re dead, Rorschach! We got a prison full of killers out here.
What do you got? Your hands, my pleasure. Can’t reach the lock.
Should I cut the bars? This riot won’t last.
I been waiting 15 years for this. I’m sorry, Lawrence, but you’re in the way
of my revenge. Nothing personal, big guy. Boss! Wait! Now you find out what the score is. One-nothing. Come and get me. Come on. So I’ve been thinking. I feel that we have an obligation
to our fraternity. – I think we ought to spring Rorschach.
– What? Someone set him up. And this whole cancer thing with Jon,
it just doesn’t make sense. You didn’t get it. Yeah, but breaking
into a maximum-security prison… – …is a little different than putting out a fire.
– Yeah, you’re right. It’ll be more fun. Hurry, Lloyd. I wanna
smell this son of a bitch cooking. Yes. No. Never disposed of sewage
with a toilet before. Obvious, really. Two-nothing. Your move. Get out of the way! How do we know he’s still alive? He’s alive. No. No. Where’s my face? Don’t kill me. Your turn, doctor. Tell me, what do you see?