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capeandcowllogs2009-07-17 08:56 pm
reactionary.livejournal.com) wrote in capeandcowllogs2009-07-17 08:56 pm
(no subject)
WHO: Lust (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
easytochop), Rorschach (reactionary)
WHERE: One of the docks near the shipyard.
WHEN: Friday night.
WARNINGS: hideous
SUMMARY: RORSCHACH CONTEMPLATES HIS EXISTENCE and then... Lust shows up......
FORMAT: para.
It was warm, regardless of the fading rays of light. Rorschach did not particularly like summer. The heat was not a good mix with his trenchcoat, which he considered an essential item. Right along with his face.
This shipyard stood parallel to the exact one which he and a group of others had stormed months ago in an attempt to take down the mafia. And what of that mob, so feared in the colder months? The City had truly outdone itself this time, concerning every citizen with massive destruction and countless deaths. This vigilante would never had suspected an event so catastrophic, so mimicking of what had occured in his own world. Strange, his integration. His now loyalty to this city. The concrete labyrinth, reeking of the same gutters and the same husks dragging themselves to bars, to strip clubs, to home from work to skim through their downloaded filth. Yes, the pinnacle of technology.
His hands gripped the railing passively, standing motionless as wave after wave of brackish air saturated his coat, lined with blood and dirt - some ancient patterns, some fresh and dark circuits on the sturdy fabric. He'd been here nearly a year. Kept track of every single day in his journal, scrawled in cramped handwriting, illegible to everyone but himself. Lost allies, gained new ones. Encountered entities he'd never imagined existed beyond fiction, beyond bright pages of something filling up a dirty newspaper rack. Switched his devotion from New York, the New York he knew, the New York which would bury itself in a pretense of a future and never look back, as he would expect upon return - to this place. This City which defied true explanation. How much longer did he have? When would the porter decide his time was up?
Awaiting him was a certain end. Dr. Manhattan and Laurie had informed him of such: that before he was here, he'd been reduced to a splatter in the snow. Rorschach did not fear the entering of nonexistence. His only concern was the potential left-behinds. Unfinished business. Those he'd come to know - a precious few he'd come to care about within the City, longtime allies and more recent notches alike. And, of course, the populace of the City itself. Much as they were anonymous and often disgusting, he bore them no true ill will as a whole and continued his job. His contribution as a watchdog, however small his part may be, however lacking in superpowers he was. It was something he would do until he ran himself dead, just like in his own world.
There were things to be done. There was a list he had, detailing what he was to do next; his schedule. But it was put aside for the moment, traded instead for a short moment of backtracking through his experience. An absorption, if anything.
Perhaps the night would be kind.
easytochop), Rorschach (reactionary)WHERE: One of the docks near the shipyard.
WHEN: Friday night.
WARNINGS: hideous
SUMMARY: RORSCHACH CONTEMPLATES HIS EXISTENCE and then... Lust shows up......
FORMAT: para.
It was warm, regardless of the fading rays of light. Rorschach did not particularly like summer. The heat was not a good mix with his trenchcoat, which he considered an essential item. Right along with his face.
This shipyard stood parallel to the exact one which he and a group of others had stormed months ago in an attempt to take down the mafia. And what of that mob, so feared in the colder months? The City had truly outdone itself this time, concerning every citizen with massive destruction and countless deaths. This vigilante would never had suspected an event so catastrophic, so mimicking of what had occured in his own world. Strange, his integration. His now loyalty to this city. The concrete labyrinth, reeking of the same gutters and the same husks dragging themselves to bars, to strip clubs, to home from work to skim through their downloaded filth. Yes, the pinnacle of technology.
His hands gripped the railing passively, standing motionless as wave after wave of brackish air saturated his coat, lined with blood and dirt - some ancient patterns, some fresh and dark circuits on the sturdy fabric. He'd been here nearly a year. Kept track of every single day in his journal, scrawled in cramped handwriting, illegible to everyone but himself. Lost allies, gained new ones. Encountered entities he'd never imagined existed beyond fiction, beyond bright pages of something filling up a dirty newspaper rack. Switched his devotion from New York, the New York he knew, the New York which would bury itself in a pretense of a future and never look back, as he would expect upon return - to this place. This City which defied true explanation. How much longer did he have? When would the porter decide his time was up?
Awaiting him was a certain end. Dr. Manhattan and Laurie had informed him of such: that before he was here, he'd been reduced to a splatter in the snow. Rorschach did not fear the entering of nonexistence. His only concern was the potential left-behinds. Unfinished business. Those he'd come to know - a precious few he'd come to care about within the City, longtime allies and more recent notches alike. And, of course, the populace of the City itself. Much as they were anonymous and often disgusting, he bore them no true ill will as a whole and continued his job. His contribution as a watchdog, however small his part may be, however lacking in superpowers he was. It was something he would do until he ran himself dead, just like in his own world.
There were things to be done. There was a list he had, detailing what he was to do next; his schedule. But it was put aside for the moment, traded instead for a short moment of backtracking through his experience. An absorption, if anything.
Perhaps the night would be kind.