I Live My Life Free of Compromise

097 .ЯR. March 11 -- We've been walkin' the tightrope tryin' to make it right

Fri, 14 Mar 2014 15:45:07 GMT

[SPAM -- OTA]

[He keeps a record. It's easier that way; words written everywhere, scattered across the walls, counterspace, mirrors, scraps of paper taped in place. Ink scrawled across skin, tails peeking out from under shirtsleeves so he won't miss them. Reminders: Eat. Call contacts. Call mother. Case government buildings. Leads to follow, people to watch; follow the rats, follow the small fish because they lead to the bigger ones. He adapts. Finds ways to make sure he'll look at them, read them. Keeps them askew, out of line; the thing keeping him alive, or a semblance of it, likes order, keep things disorganized and he'll be drawn to look. He'd always been strong-willed before, and that hasn't changed, even now; his work is too important, the sickness invading his city is too important. There's something. He's almost there, he's certain of it, and it's frustrating, having to work like this, but it's important, and that is enough of a reason to resist the pull. The quiet and peace.

So he walks, a familiar path etched into muscle memory, a patrol of a sort. Connect the points and he'll have it, it's only a matter of keeping it from slipping through his fingers.]

[PUBLIC -- audio -- anonymous]

Be sober, be vigilant, for the cogs and wheels continue to turn, we know not where. Look and listen; they aren't what they seem.

[The voice is blank and monotone, no particular rush or inflection. No real identifiers at all, really.]

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096 .ЯR. February 21 -- The Journey Ends in a Thousand Trials

Sat, 22 Feb 2014 13:00:44 GMT

[PRIVATE to Harvey]

Mister Dent, if you are here I...

[He stops, tapers off into silence. He's not actually sure. He should have just written a note, it would have been simpler, but he couldn't resist the little box with its buttons and now here he is, chewing his lip because he's not sure what to say next. Jaw tenses, settles, and he straightens in his seat. Okay.]

I am not certain what has happened, however I plan to get to the bottom of it. If you require anything in the meantime I will be watching for your note.

[He nods. Okay. Yes, that will work, he knows Harvey will either find him or ask for a location to meet up if the mood strikes him. He clicks it off.]

[PRIVATE to Iris -- Text]

Mother if you have anything to do with this I would appreciate an explanation.

[Not that he really expects her to have kidnapped him or anything, but all the same. It's worth checking in with her as well.]

[SPAM]

[As far as everyone else is concerned, Walter can be found skulking around and trying to be unobtrusive while he gathers intelligence, stopping every now and then to take notes, scribbled in his ever-present notebook, although some might note, if they catch a glimpse, that the date doesn't quite match up.]

[A/N: Rorschach is Affected! For the duration of the flood he'll be his Aeris Navem self! Which should make things interesting.]

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095 .ЯR. February 12 --

Fri, 14 Feb 2014 20:18:45 GMT

[Certain people will find a card with a blot on it slipped under their doors. They're signed simply, just his symbol, but then most people who would get them probably already know what that means even if the picture wasn't enough of a giveaway.

..."certain people" includes but isn't limited to Iris, Chris, Esther, and basically whoever he gets along with sort of who wants one.]

[Spam-ish?]

[Anyone who got access to Iris' telepathy network as part of the flood will get treated to a general angrily-panicked feeling through the connection from his end because things feel Different and he doesn't know why. Sorry?]

[SPAM -- Esther -- backdated to after the mess with Bond]

[There's a familiar warden stalking into the infirmary after things with Bond get resolved; he gets his bearings, looks for his inmate, and makes a beeline for her once he spots her.]

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094 .ЯR. February 4 -- oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, beloved from pole to pole!

Wed, 05 Feb 2014 02:43:46 GMT

[SPAM -- infirmary]

[SOMEONE IS AWAKE and...has a bit of a panic to start with because the infirmary is probably his LEAST favorite place even though he ends up there fairly often. Feel free to run into him during any part of his wake up process or subsequent madcap escape, in which there is furious grabbing at belongings and stumbling in and out of the way of people before he finally hits stalking stride.]

[PUBLIC -- audio]

[Somebody sounds hoarser than usual today, but then again weeks of being comatose will do that to you. The broken-glass-and-sandpaper voice is probably new to some of the more recent arrivals, but is likely all too familiar to most Barge folks by now.]

Suppose should be reassuring to see Admiral operating as usual. Would still appreciate warning. At least enough to avoid unpleasantness of being stricken in open territory, where all too easily accessible by passengers with less unquestionable goals. Know useless to argue. Feel compelled to anyway. As if will change pre-existing lines of behavior.

[He snorts. Yeah, he knows. Fat chance of that. It's still inconvenient and Concerning.]

Another cog in watch. Another hamster in wheel. Making objections because is customary despite certainty of futility.

But do not think is too much to expect propriety. To expect certain amount of courtesy and decency when managing unresponsive forms. Is not excuse to take liberties.

[....yeah somebody ended up getting a sponge bath while he was out. And is clearly taking it well!]

[PRIVATE -- Esther]

Apologies for absence. Was not intention; unavoidable. Trust have been behaving in absence.

[Locked from Esther]

Would appreciate any information about inmate's activities during period of inaccessibility.

[Yeah that's one way of putting it.

Translation: how much trouble did my inmate ACTUALLY get into while I was out?]

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093 .ЯR. January 9 -- if I was them I wouldn't let me in

Fri, 10 Jan 2014 21:08:30 GMT

[PRIVATE to Chris]

...don't understand.

[WHAT IS THIS THING YOU GAVE HIM he's just going to stare at it in confusion forever.]

[PUBLIC -- audio]

Warnings have already been given. Welcomes too. Any more are redundant. Assuming visitors have been informed if not already familiar.

[No he is absolutely not fishing for people he knows. Every time this happens he mostly hopes they don't show up because he would not wish the Barge on anyone.]

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092 .ЯR. December 15 -- People do not believe lies because they have to, but because they want to

Mon, 16 Dec 2013 20:50:18 GMT

[Rorschach isn't surprised by the announcement, or the fact that she's an inmate, necessarily. He knew, he had to know, even if he hadn't had his suspicions already there's never been a warden that young.

What he is surprised by, however, is the content of her file. He'd known some of it, enough that the gist is familiar; she'd told him some of it, he'd seen some of it himself. But it's the connecting points, the context, that catches him off-guard. She can't be what he sees on the page. It doesn't fit with what he knows. She's a little girl, not....that. The Admiral must be lying.

He pours over the contents for the next three hours all the same, spreads the papers out across his floor and draws as much information as he can from them. Writes notes in the margins, circles and underlines and scrawls across the empty spaces. Observations, questions, connections. Trying to separate what's probably true from what doesn't fit with the picture he already has.

When he's ready, he sends her a brief missive.]

[PRIVATE to Esther -- text]

Need to meet. Your choice of location.

[PRIVATE to Chris -- voice]

Going to train later. Welcome to join.

[He wants to pick your brain a little. HE HAS A NEW INMATE AND DOESN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO AND GRAYSON ISN'T HERE HELP.]

[SPAM for Iris]

[He lets himself into her cabin a little later, or at least tries to. No explanation, no warning, only a visit. He has a new inmate and doesn't know what to do and his old warden isn't here for guidance PLS HALP.]

[SPAM -- open]

[After meeting with Esther, and between all his meetings with other people, he spends the rest of the day plunging himself into his normal routine. Patrolling the halls, pushing himself to black and blue and familiar soreness in the gym. Sitting in a quiet corner of the library and recording the latest events. Trying to sort everything out to make some sense out of the whole thing.]

[LATER THINGS WILL PROBABLY BE HERE LATER]

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091 .ЯR. November 14 -- And We'll All Float On Anyway

Thu, 14 Nov 2013 17:01:55 GMT

[LOCKED to Friendlies -- text]

Will be in gym. If needed.

[SPAM/rambling]

[It's twelve days past his death, for the second time. A second anniversary; it seems worth marking, but he doesn't really feel like bringing it up. Too many people leave, too many unfinished endings.

She's gone and it hurts and it's stupid, that it should. But the others had warned first. Chosen it, in most cases. All but Blake and Her and it's stupid and foolish to mourn the already dead, those living on stolen time to begin with; they were always dead. Artificial beats in their hearts, borrowed breath filling their lungs. Awaiting judgment.

He takes a breath. Fills lungs, real lungs, lungs revived and returned to true functionality, no longer a corpse that has been taught to continue to walk through purgatory. His heart was found worthy, weighed against the feather of judgment while the Sin Eater looked on, waiting to swallow it up if it was not. Why him. Why not them. He did not need forgiveness or understanding, did not need the approval of some greater being to deem him worthy of life. Of a second chance. He would have been content to stay as he was, because at least then he knew he made the right choice. Stood firm for his beliefs. But everything is upended now, twisted around; she, who had done nothing particularly unforgivable in his eyes, condemned to remain dead because the Admiral had lost interest and thrown her back overboard like a fish that was too small for the catch, while he now breathes. And it shouldn't bother him so much. She is one life among many. One flawed, indecent, perverse life, and individual lives matter, he knows this, it's why he ended up here in the first place, unwilling to willingly condone or allow the sacrifice of a few for the good of the whole, but it doesn't explain this.

It's stupid. He wants to carve it out, needs to carve it out because it picks and festers like an infection, so he pulls his face down over his eyes to try to quiet it. To try to disappear. To become the tool he needs to be rather than the man she had unwittingly started to crack through to.

He makes his way to the gym after his usual patrol, because it's either that or pick a fight with someone to let off steam and inanimate objects are generally the more advisable opponent when there isn't an entire city to protect. He'll spend as much time keeping busy there as physically possible, work over the equipment until he's too sore and spent to throw another punch reliably.]

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090 .ЯR. October 26 -- War games

Wed, 30 Oct 2013 01:09:11 GMT

[Backdated to Saturday]

[PUBLIC -- voice]

[For those from the "Normal" Barge, Rorschach sounds different today. More rundown, hoarser in the edges of the usual gruffness. More overtly hostile. Rorschach on the Mirror Barge is closer to a rabid animal even than his usual, something that runs and runs and fights because he's forgotten that there might have been an alternative once upon a time.

He's between wardens, killed his last one a few times, mostly on principle. He might have been a warden himself already if he hadn't stubbornly refused to toe the lines given. But he fights for justice, that's still true. Even if everything else has fallen by the wayside.

His voice echoes; he's holed up somewhere for the moment.]

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. — That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed, — That whenever any Form of Government becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness. When a long train of abuses and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same Object evinces a design to reduce them under absolute Despotism, it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such Government, and to provide new Guards for their future security.

[SPAM -- OTA]

[Rorschach is hiding. Possibly in the ductwork, possibly in your cabin. Possibly among the shelves, or under a table. He might be writing, scratching out pages in a journal that will never be read by anyone else (probably), he might be lying in wait for his next victim. But he is everywhere. Anywhere.]

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089 .ЯR. September 25 -- I shut and locked the front door, no way in or out

Wed, 25 Sep 2013 20:16:24 GMT

[It's a day after the end of the flood. A day to reflect. A day to lock himself up in his room and ignore it all. Or at least, to try to.

He's inaccessible other than his visits to Chris, which are like clockwork, spending the rest of it in places that are hard to locate. An abandoned stairwell, the dining hall between mealtimes, his room. Safe havens gained through forced locks; abandoned cabins, the CES. Lurking tucked away in a dark, secluded corner of the library. In the wake of the breach, he doesn't know how to handle it. What to do with it all. He is familiar with how breaches work. With having a new life, a different life, stuffed in his head, becoming someone else who is familiar enough to be recognizable but different enough to be an alternate path.

But it has never created something so different for him. Something both uncomfortable and too comfortable. A sample of what could be. But it's too soon, still too far off. Something on the other side of the glass, something he won't indulge in for a thousand half-formulated reasons.

He needs time.]

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088 .ЯR. September 21 -- But you and I we've been through that and this is not our fate

Sat, 21 Sep 2013 17:42:38 GMT

[SPAM -- open]

[Walter Kovacs is, in general, a very upstanding businessman, of a sort. He works at one of the mid-range clothiers, a small shop that goes by only "Solomon's" (it used to be "and sons" until the rest of the clan proved uninterested in continuing the family trade), although he is most often found lurking in the back hard at work rather than in the front actually dealing with customers.

Today, however, is one of the days the shop is short-staffed, leaving him skulking self-consciously behind the counter; his daemon Trudy remains largely out of sight, hidden in one pocket or another.

Throughout the next few days he can also be found out in the streets delivering an order (as mentioned, it's a small shop; during slow hours it isn't unusual for the proprietor to send out one of his employees for special orders rather than waiting for someone specifically to do it), frequenting any number of popular gathering spots (if staying out of the way of most), or, increasingly often as of late, skulking late at night in search of Suspicious Parties. Given the disappearances he has become increasingly disappointed in constabulary response and started to think perhaps civilian intervention is necessary, although admittedly about as far as he's gotten so far is an impromptu neighborhood watch of....exactly one.]

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087 .ЯR. September 7 -- Everybody's happy now the bad thing's gone away

Sat, 07 Sep 2013 03:57:03 GMT

[Forward dated to Saturday]

[PUBLIC -- audio]

Twenty five days.

[He sounds exhausted, and the fact that he actually lets himself tells exactly how much. It was hard enough to do the first time, when he didn't know the outcome, when it was only a conspiracy of murder that suddenly widened into something bigger. It's something else entirely when he knows the ending before he starts, when he has to try to align just right. Say the right things to the right people at the right time and it's never been how he's worked before but then there was never a deadline like this one before. Never so many lives in the balance.]

Suppose this is how Manhattan feels. Seeing strings. Plucking right ones in right order to bring right course of events.

[But then, Manhattan had never been the type to invest. Not lately; Now and Then overlaps and it takes some work to separate the two. He had been so enmeshed in the timeline he had almost forgotten he had a choice at the end, although it had been obvious enough what it was. When it was time.]

Back now. Felt...necessary.

[Too grating, events overlapped like that. Two versions sitting in his head, while they only remember one, and as it is it's more than he really wants to handle because they're both true but only one of them is really his.]

[PRIVATE to Claire, Iris, and Chris]

Not dead.

[Open SPAM]

[He doesn't check her door. He's been gone for almost a month, deep in his own world, his own usual habits; it was easier not to think about it, so he didn't, stuffed it down somewhere and tried his best to keep it separate. Apart from him. Don't look, don't think; he has more important things at stake right now.

And then he succeeds, manages to talk the indestructible man into caring, at least somewhat, tells the smartest man in the world he knows what he's scheming, tilts his hand for him when he visits instead of warning him about the threat that's only a red herring. He should have known not to expect an easy outcome, not when Veidt is involved. Events domino, one after the other, chess pieces moved in this complicated game that used to be so simple, pieces he can't see for all that he knows about where it's all headed. He ends up in prison a second time but he had expected that. Known there would likely be some overlap, certain events accelerated when he revealed what he knew, but the rest moves faster too. Manhattan and Juspeczyk and Daniel and he wants to punch the Owl but he doesn't know. He doesn't ask, doesn't accuse, but he can see it in him. He does not remember the Barge, it will bring no satisfaction to berate him. So instead he lurks and absorbs what familiarity he can because he cannot expect any more from him.

Above all, it works. They convince him before he takes the final step, leave it in his and Manhattan's hands to find a new solution. One that will not result in millions of lives lost. He spends a few days after that, soaking in this new world he has helped to bring about and for a moment he is happy, he supposes. Or what passes for it. But peace was never a place he could exist in. It rings false, and this is not his world anyway. Not any longer. So he leaves, returns to the place that almost feels like home.

He stalks the halls, re-familiarizing himself with them. Relearning the cracks in the floor and the stairs that creak, finding his routine once again.]

[A/N: Rorschach, now that he's back, is Affected; he'll both receive and transmit, so....have fun with that?

CW for child abuse of varying varieties and everything that comes with tiny!Ror, animal death, canon character death, general violence, and Rorschach's narrowminded, misogynistic, and generally offensive worldview.]

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086 .ЯR. September 3 -- The things that really change the world are the tiny things

Wed, 04 Sep 2013 10:06:57 GMT

[PRIVATE to Iris, Claire, and Chris]

Going back now. Have something need to finish. Put it off long enough.

May take a while. Don't know when will be back; know time moves differently here anyway.

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085 .ЯR. August 27 -- Who else is gonna bring you a broken arrow

Tue, 27 Aug 2013 19:44:43 GMT

[TEXT to Iris]

[He's not sure what to say. What do you say to somebody who's had a friend decapitated and the head given to them as a gift. Even under the best of circumstances he's not sure how to give comfort. Situations like this....the only solution is to put the perpetrator down, but that's already been done.

It leaves him helplessly uncomfortable, like a small child who's only just learned what death is and can't wrap their mind around the idea of it. That something's gone that can't be replaced no matter how hard you try to force it back.

But he has to say SOMETHING. Has to do something.]

where are you

[Not that it matters; he can guess. One of two places, so he picks the most likely and winds his way across the Barge to let himself in after giving her all of ten minutes to reply.

Ten minutes is about all his agitated impatience which he is most certainly not calling concern can stand.]

[PRIVATE to Claire -- video]

Everything back to normal?

[PRIVATE to Bea]

Weren't bad.

[SPAM for Chris]

[Once everything's settled, order restored, inmates back to normal, wardens returned their abilities, everyone in one piece, on the surface at least, Rorschach tracks down his former charge. It's still odd, being unpaired, and he never would have thought it would be a thought that crossed his mind but it's been a long few months. More proof that you can get accustomed to nearly anything if exposed to it long enough. He keeps his hands in the pockets of his coat, keeping the surprise secure in one of the internal pockets as he walks. Careful not to crush it too much.

When he arrives, he's far from at ease but it's something he needs to do. A gesture he needs to make. He strides over to Chris and grunts in greeting.]

[SPAM -- Lisbeth's room, ish]

( In which Rorschach commits b&e and steals because this is how he rolls )

[TEXT to Lark]

Lisbeth is gone. Things are still here

[...just so you know.]

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084 .ЯR. August 24 -- Lord I was born a rambling man

Sat, 24 Aug 2013 15:34:06 GMT

[AUDIO -- locked to friendlies]

Will be patrolling. Do not hesitate to contact if in need of assistance; Admiral's controls clearly not operating appropriately right now. Keep eyes open.

Keep away from edges. No need to risk death when don't know if normal arrangement is effective.

[AUDIO -- locked separately to Chris, Iris, and Claire]

Check in.

Will be patrolling; keep in contact. Do not hesitate to call for assistance. Will be listening.

[AUDIO -- locked to Lisbeth]

Check in.

Thoughts?

[SPAM -- open]

[A new environment, and given the traffic he's seen on the network there's not much need to wonder what happened. The limits have been switched; he doesn't notice any changes in himself, but then he was human to begin with. There's nothing to limit.

All the more reason to check in with his own network. All the more reason to keep an eye out.

For the duration of port Rorschach can be found wandering the extent of the area they're contained within, caves and outskirts alike; yes, he's blatantly ignored his own advice and walked out into the lightning fields to try to see how far he could get. Why else do you think he warned against it?]

[PRIVATE to Chris -- audio; later]

[He'd been keeping an eye on the network. And on his item; it's habit. As much a gauge of where he needs his attention to be as the network and patrols. It tells him his inmate is okay when he's out of his sight, at least reassures that he hasn't done anything especially foolish lately, and promises to alert him if he does.

Except there's something wrong, and he doesn't need to look at it to know.

It clicks. Once. Twice. Three times, like when he'd held it in his hand over a year ago for the first time, familiarizing himself with its form and weight. Had pressed the center to gauge its sturdiness. It had clicked then too, soft and low. The bloody arrow spins, slowly then building speed, then finally stops. Disappears for a moment, dissolving into yellow paint, then reappears, and the clicking stops.

He knows, instinctively, that it's a bad sign. He flicks the edge once, a gesture that normally makes the arrow spin then point to where his inmate can be found when he remembers to rely on it, but it remains fixed. He growls in frustration and something that might pass for concern, then pulls out his communicator.]

Christopher D'Amico. Call in. Now.

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083 .ЯR. August 18 -- On Hallowe'en the old ghosts come about us

Sun, 18 Aug 2013 12:07:30 GMT

[PUBLIC -- voice]

[It's been almost a week since Rorschach's been visible in any capacity past patrols. Past things he's obligated to attend. He doesn't like the departures from what passes for normal as it is, doesn't like having his intrinsic self twisted and shifted to fit the constraints of the latest change, but floods like these are always worse. Because they're elements of himself he tries to bury. Makes a point not to acknowledge. They give power to others, and no matter now nice it is, in the moment, the aftermath is inevitably less so.

But a week later, he's mostly back to normal. Mostly. Enough that he can dismiss whatever isn't.]

Airplanes equipped with oxygen masks. Go through effort of explaining to passengers when to use them. Importance of using them.

But if in event of crash, won't save you. Won't prolong life, won't improve chances of survival.

Only purpose is to make you forget. Over-oxygenate, mimic intoxication. Will still die. Just won't care because too high to worry about impending demise.

[SPAMish for Babs]

[There's an envelope taped to her door with her full name scrawled across it in cramped but painfully precise handwriting. Inside there's a single piece of paper with a few lines written on it in the same handwriting.]

Should be gratified to know learned message eventually. Without the benefit of well-meaning but ultimately baseless assurances. She was a hateful woman, undeserving of your hopes and excuses.

But your efforts did not go unappreciated. Was too naive at the time not to accept them.

[There's a patch that's been blacked out, as if the author added something else but thought better of it, then under that only his signature.]

.ЯR.

[SPAMish for Nathan]

[Much as for Babs, Nathan will find an envelope taped to his door at some point that day with his name scrawled across the front. There's a single piece of paper with a single line written on it, all with the same cramped but painfully precise handwriting that was on Babs' letter. It implies certain things, handwriting like that, to those familiar with its study.]

Aren't bad. For a cop.

Efforts were appreciated.

.ЯR.

[No name attached, only a symbol. Those who have been around for a time may recognize it, but it's likely Nathan will not at this point, since it's not attached to his signature on the network.

Although it does have a certain look to it; if Nathan's familiar with psychology in any capacity he might be able to make the jump.

Connecting it to the small neglected red-haired boy with a face full of freckles might be more difficult.]

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082 .ЯR. August 9 -- divide by zero like a wrecking crew

Fri, 09 Aug 2013 14:17:52 GMT

[PUBLIC -- video]

[There is a small boychild staring at the network this morning; he'd woken up into a room that was decidedly not home, not even his own bed, and now after finding the communicator he's on the network.

An undersized kid with obnoxiously bright red hair and an overabundance of freckles who gives off the impression of a puppy that's been kicked more than it hasn't eyes the screen from Rorschach's room with a fair amount of wariness and uncertainty; it's like something out of Buck Rogers, and even as he pushes the buttons he's not entirely certain he won't break it. Fairly certain he will get in trouble for it. But there's a light behind the screen and it's too late now, so he takes a deep breath and, on impulse, talks to it, in a hesitant and quiet voice that speaks to somebody who really doesn't expect to be listened to, taking his time to make sure the words are right.]

I...this isn't mine but I didn't take it. It was already here.

[With an undertone of "I'm not lying please believe me".]

...we have a box at home.

[It's not that unusual for his mother's friends to leave things behind.

A/N: Rorschach's been aged down to 8, although he's small for his age so he probably doesn't really look it. All replies will come from childofnone.]

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081 .ЯR. July 27 -- Swim out past the breakers, watch the world die

Mon, 29 Jul 2013 20:20:43 GMT

[PUBLIC video -- backdated to the 20th]

Wasp is in a coma. Situation is under control.

[...she may or may not be currently stashed in his room because he doesn't trust anybody.]

[BACKDATED to the 27th]

[PRIVATE text to Chris, later SPAM]

Waiting outside ship. Expect you to be there.

[...he might be hiding when he gets there.]

[PRIVATE texts to Claire and Iris]

Checking in

[SPAM]

[Throughout port Rorschach can be found...mostly patrolling the streets, usually with Chris in tow. It's Los Angeles; there's no shortage of crime to fight.]

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080 .ЯR. July 12 -- Swear an allegiance to things you can't hide

Fri, 12 Jul 2013 18:12:37 GMT

[TEXT for Iris]

[It's left at a pub he knows she frequents, a handwritten note in cramped script and unsigned, but he trusts she'll know who left it all the same. It might have been there for hours, days, or months.]

The damage has been paid for. They ask that you please do not return for the safety of their patrons.

[SPAM for anyone]

[Walter can be found wandering the city most days, on some errand or another for Dent. It comes with the territory of working for a man supposedly crippled and confined to the house; he knows perfectly well the man is capable of it and has been for some time but there are appearances to maintain. Secrets to keep. This is his job in things, or one of them anyway, accumulating information and noting it for later when it can be processed and analyzed and a plan of attack can be formed.

Consequently, he's sure to be found just about anywhere something interesting might happen, nicer areas and pits alike, either in conversation with a shopkeeper or just lurking unobtrusively within earshot.]

[SPAM for Dent]

[He returns to the house once or twice throughout the day, usually more depending on what's required of him; he does work for the man, after all, there's only a certain amount of intelligence gathering he can accumulate without it being suspect or abandoning his duties. Today during one such return he lingers at the door to the study with a knock to signal his intentions, waiting to be acknowledged and granted entrance before continuing inside, a collection of papers tucked under an arm with the newspaper.]

[A/N: For the duration of the breach Rorschach is lowly Walter Kovacs by day, a surly but polite lower class nobody who is part of recluse and eccentric Harvey Dent's household staff, but by night he's Rorschach, one of the city's self-appointed night watchmen (albeit one of the more brutal ones) and partner to Dent's own alter ego.

Reference for Rorschach.]

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079 .ЯR. June 24 -- A host of holy horrors to direct our aimless dance.

Wed, 26 Jun 2013 14:19:34 GMT

[Backdated to Sunday:]

[PUBLIC -- video]

[Rorschach's back on the network, still out of uniform but more clear-eyed today. The ink is too distracting, keeps pulling his attention from where he wants to focus it, so he's tucked it away in a dresser drawer until the flood passes. Black is dangerous. Inactivity is dangerous. Keep busy, keep occupied, keep focused, and it's harder to find than usual but today he can. He's too stubborn not to, too rudderless without a Purpose; it was only a matter of time before he fought his way past the forced apathy.

His words and affect are still flatter than normal, but there's a determination that wasn't there before. Drive.]

Need to talk to Emperor.

Can also consider this checking in.

[PRIVATE to Nygma]

Didn't expect you to be type to take advantage of incapacitation.

[PRIVATE to Chris, Iris, Claire, and Lisbeth. Separately.]

Apologies for inconvenience. Better now. Miss anything?

[PRESENT.]

[PUBLIC -- video]

[The mask is back in place, ink shifting in no particular pattern. He is fully himself again, and relieved because of it. He no longer needs to fight against something greater than himself, or at least no more than he usually does. He still seems mildly unsettled, but balance has returned.]

Man dies. In afterlife, presented with two paths; one says "Predestination", one says "Free Will". Man, according to own beliefs, begins down road marked Predestination. Eventually a door appears in front of him. Man knocks, angel answers door. Asks him why he's there. Man says "I believe in predestination, so when I saw the sign I picked that path."

Angel looks skeptical. Says "if you chose it, you don't belong here. I cannot let you in."

Man walks back down path, disappointed. Takes other path. Eventually comes to another door. Knocks. Another angel answers, asking same question. Man says "I had no choice, I was told to come here."

Bad joke. Rigged questions. Always have a choice.

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078 .ЯR. June 21 -- In Your Head, In Your Head, They Are Fighting

Fri, 21 Jun 2013 18:58:52 GMT

[PUBLIC -- video]

[The initial view the camera gives today is Rorschach's cabin. No-one in sight, no-one obviously addressing the audience, only the room. Nothing odd or obviously out of place, although the bed's still unmade and both quilt and sheets are pulled off to one side, towards the floor, as if pulled by a weight.

That weight is currently still on the floor.

There's a quiet groan and a grumble under breath that echoes up towards the table, and finally red hair comes into view, a body to follow, and a clutching hand with swollen joints placed on the table to lever the rest of the weight upright.

It's pale. Far too pale, leaning towards ashen grey, and the face that eventually turns to regard whoever's watching is in just as bad shape, colored in greys and purples with dark circles under his eyes and just...hollow. Eyes are still their normal pale blue, but hold a glazed quality, and seem to have difficulty focusing on the camera itself.

It doesn't matter. It's not important. Just sit down.

He does.

He opens his mouth, words poised just on the tip of his tongue; he had something to say, he knows he did. Something important. But he can't find it, it doesn't come, and that's frustrating but he can't seem to care. It's a thousand miles away.

Something burrows inside his mind, squirms and curls and finally settles, and that's worrying too but nothing escapes. A muffled pang of alarm, a momentary flicker of expression, a hand raised to press cold fingers against his temple, but it dissolves and then he's just empty again. The hand drops, expression smoothing out into blankness again.

He inhales, prepares to speak, but he still can't find anything meaningful, so he lets it out again.

The mess behind him is like an itch, and in the absence of a real contribution he abandons the screen to fix it, straightening and smoothing until the aesthetics are right.]

[A/N: Rorschach is Affected, and has switched abilities with the Emperor; enjoy the disaffected zen zombie vigilante that results?]

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077 .ЯR. June 16 -- A Bloody War on the Boardwalk

Fri, 21 Jun 2013 04:09:58 GMT

[SPAM for Alpha, later Lisbeth probably]

[A ways after the conclusion of Rorschach and Lis bonding post-deathtoll, and right after she gets a creepy visitor, Rorschach is lurking outside her room. Given the state she's in he's decided someone needs to, and it might as well be him; at least he can guarantee he's got her best interests in mind.

Which would be why he's there when Alpha leaves.

He wasn't there when he arrived in the first place; the rest of the ship needs his attention too, he can't justify abandoning patrols just because he can't trust Lisbeth to be able to be able to watch her own back at the moment. But on his way back he sees the inmate leaving her cabin, and it's enough to send warning bells. He knows Alpha's reputation, knows what he's capable of. Knows Lisbeth is on his radar, and he supposes he should have expected this but there's no use in relying on hindsight now.

His response is immediate; closed distance, hands reached for the collar of his shirt to slam him against the wall without a second thought, space invaded to snarl and growl in carefully measured tones. Controlled.]

Visiting hours are over.

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076 .ЯR. June 13 -- Nothin' Seems to Shake It, It Just Keeps Holdin' On

Sun, 16 Jun 2013 01:46:20 GMT

[Sporadic SPAM but OTA]

[Two days after the end of the flood, Rorschach has once again dropped off the face of the ship aside from his general self-imposed obligations; he shows up to training, puts as much time and energy into it as usual if not maybe a little more. Spends hours in the gym after, which might be a little out of the ordinary but not exceptionally so, although the bristling at the slightest intrusion and increased tendency towards unnecessary aggression might be, then stalks the halls like a vengeful shadow at all hours of the day. Skulks his way to the dining hall a couple times a day to retrieve coffee and nothing else, but other than that he's a ghost. A non-entity; in the aftermath of three days of compelled contact, contact that might as well be in a foreign language, he needs his space. So he locks himself in his room the rest of the time, spends a majority of his free time (such as it is) holed up and inaccessible, and avoids certain parties who he's certain will want to have Words about things as if they're infected with the Bubonic Plague or something equally contagious and fatal because he doesn't want to deal with what comes after. If he ignores it, he assumes, it will all disappear and things will go back to normal. He won't have to deal with the lingering cling of contact endured for longer than comfortable, won't have to deal with the aftermath of residual feelings and compulsions it's easier to dismiss than examine too closely, and if his shower runs more than normal throughout the next week and the mask has even less of a chance of coming off in public spaces, well it wouldn't be the first time.]

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075 .ЯR. June 9 -- I saw her today at the reception, in her glass was a bleeding man

Sun, 09 Jun 2013 13:50:15 GMT

[PUBLIC -- audio]

Be careful today. Something isn't right.

[He hasn't been able to figure out WHAT other than that he feels...odd. But he knows something is off somehow; might as well give people advance notice.]

[PRIVATE -- locked to Chris, Iris, Lis, and Claire, all separately]

Check in.

[SPAM -- open to all]

[This morning, when he woke, there wasn't anything odd or unusual about anything in particular; he was awake in time to feel the tremor when it happened, but there's no clear indicator off the bat that something is amiss.

Only an almost unnoticeable tingle when he picks up his journal to tuck it away in his coat, but nothing after, and he can't even identify what exactly it signifies.

So he warns the group at large, in case nobody else has noticed anything yet, and steps out into the hallway.

He'll be out and about for the next three days, as usual, with the only obvious change right off the bat a sudden increased preference for hiding and lurking in tight spaces that are easy to miss at first glance.

...clearly, Rorschach is Affected; his journal has been cursed to make him feel the sudden urge to spread impulsive, unannounced affection to whoever happens to be nearby.]

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074 .ЯR. June 7 -- You don't have to go home but you can't stay here

Fri, 07 Jun 2013 15:33:53 GMT

[PUBLIC -- voice]

J. P. Buttafucco, the tomato millionaire, died and went to hell. Upon his arrival, assistant demon took him on a tour of four rooms where he could spend eternity.

First room full of men standing on their heads on a brick floor.
Decided against this one.

Second room full of men standing on their heads on a wooden floor. Thought this one looked better, but decided to see other two rooms before making a choice.

Third room full of men standing on their heads on mattresses. Looked more promising, but still wanted to see last room.

Fourth room full of men standing knee deep in raw sewage and drinking coffee. Thought that room itself was disgusting, but decided on it anyway because of coffee.

Door closed and locked behind him. Another assistant demon called out, "All right, coffee break's over. Everyone go back to standing on your head."

[NOPE no explanation. Hello visitors.]

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073 .ЯR. June 4 -- There Ain't No Rest for the Wicked Until We Close Our Eyes for Good

Wed, 05 Jun 2013 12:17:45 GMT

[PRIVATE video -- locked to Megamind]

Need to discuss something.

About Christopher.

[PRIVATE audio -- locked to Lisbeth]

Have a question.

[SPAM -- specifically for Team Watery Doom but open to anyone else]

[Rorschach is almost predictable in his habits. Breakfast before most are up, training in the gym before most of the regulars shuffle in, patrol for most of the day. Keeping track of his people, keeping an eye on those who have captured his suspicions most recently (and at the top of the list these days are Alpha and Lark), keeping an eye on his inmate. Stopping every hour or so to scribble a page of notes, observations, thoughts, before tucking it away and continuing on. Lunch is optional, and mostly depends on if anyone pushes it on him and how hungry he is by then. He doesn't take it easy because he's still recovering; he's always found the best method is to demand what you normally expect, and once he gets moving it gets easier. He'll likely be sore and stiff later, but by then it will be time for the few hours of sleep he allows.]

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