just a matter of time, i suppose. with sudden, blinding speed, blake whips the saucer from under his cup, sending it flying like a saw-blade. the intruder bats it out of the air with even quicker reflexes, but the act buys blake time to pull a pistol with a silencer from a hollowed out stereo speaker. he's a pro . but so is our intruder. before blake can get a shot off, the intruder is already upon him, snatching the gun out of blake's hand-- --blake punches the intruder in the chest plate--the intruder drops the gun. blake fights. not like an old man, but like the trained killer he is. but the intruder is much, much faster. younger. deadlier. he smashes blake with an elbow to the head. blake falls. blood blurs his vision. the intruder picks blake up off the ground. brings him to the window with the great new york view. thirty stories up. blake looks the intruder in the eye . and starts laughing. hysterical.
i always thought i knew the punchline. but i guess the joke's on me now. he laughs. the intruder seems to regard blake a moment-- --then, with incredible strength, he lifts blake over his head and throws blake through the window. blake never makes a sound as he plummets to the sidewalk.
fireworks. a young blake sits in a derelict saigon bar, mean drunk. his face is devoid of his trademark scar.
you'd think this country'd had enough goddamn fireworks. if we'd've lost this war, i think it might have driven us crazy, y'know? as a country. but we didn't. thanks to you.
me? i think it's hilarious.
fantastic. just what i need.
there's nothing to talk about cuz i'm leaving. i'm gonna forget you and your horrible, sweaty little country. he turns away. her eyes blaze with betrayal and hatred.
you bitch! my face! he pushes her into the bar and draws his pistol--
that's right! and you know what? you watched me! you could've changed the gun into steam or the bullets into mercury or the bottle into snowflakes, but you didn't, did you? you're drifting outta touch, doc--i've seen it. don't tell me the war got to you. blake walks off shouting "medic!" dr. manhattan turns to the girl's body and regards it, curious. match cut to:
what i'm saying is this whole bringing back the watchmen thing is bullshit. it didn't work twenty years ago, and it ain't gonna work just because you want to keep on playing cowboys and indians.
and that would be you, right veidt? i mean you're the "smartest guy in the world," right?
but it takes a roomful of morons to think they're small enough for you guys to handle. you people are a joke. you hear moloch's back in town and get your panties in a bunch. you think that matters?
justice. hilarious. there's no such thing as justice. he stands, moving to adrian's display which outlines the watchmen's agenda: gangs, racketeering, drugs. blake flicks his zippo and the display goes up in flames.
justice doesn't matter, alright? because twenty years from now we're all gonna be dust. mankind's been trying to kill each other off since the beginning of time and now we finally got the power to finish the job. ain't nothin' gonna matter when the nukes start flying, and i promise you they will. then ozymandias here is gonna be the smartest man on the cinder. he sneers and walks out. silence. uncomfortable in the wake of truth, the others pack up to go, muttering apologies to adrian, but adrian ignores them, staring at the flames flickering across his face. he seems more thoughtful than upset. match cut to:
crawl back in yer holes before you get hurt! i got rubber bullets!
okay, that's how you wanna do it?! smiling grimly, he fires tear gas cannisters into the crowd.
hah! you seen this? the smoke clears enough for dan to see a message spray- painted on a brick wall: "who watches the watchmen?"
my government contacts tell me they're pushing some new bill through congress.
until then, we're society's only protection.
are you kidding? from themselves. close on: the happy face pin on blake's costume. match cut to-
laurel? laurel jane? startled, laurie turns. blake steps out of the shadows.
you're sally jupiter's kid.
you got your mom's eyes. even that funny little mole.
she was one of the all-time champion beauties, your mom. she talk about me much?
hey doll. long time no see.
christ, we were just talking! can't a guy talk to his, y'know, friend's daughter? what the hell do you think i am?