Siren's Pull

Rorschach's journal, October 7th, 2012. The skyline is different. This city stinks with the same shame and filth of New York. Canada is only a barren wasteland filled with men in furry hats and maple syrup. Have not tried the maple syrup here yet. Not a fan of baseball, but still arrived on a field, like so many others. The people working there were surprised by my face, and they cringed away from me before sending me to the apartments. There was fear in their eyes.

I passed by a club today, where three fat men in business suits talked while a naked woman danced on their table. There are monsters out at night, they said. I said there are monsters out right now. They should know. They told me about them.

They don't know. Not my job to tell them. It's no longer 1985. They've done something to my journal. There are now buttons inside the cover. I don't like it when people touch my things.

[He presses one of the buttons, and he turns it and faces it, his mask shifting, inkblots moving across a white surface. Nothing can be seen of his face behind the fabric.]

Need to go home. This city can rot; it's already on the path to destruction. They should ask for help, but they won't. I won't give it. If they die because of their own disgusting habits? Good riddance.

[ooc: Here is Rorschach's permission's post, a catch-all for both his new Core ability, and also for the fact that he's very offensive. If you'd take the time to fill it out, I'd appreciate it!]