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Rorschach You want me to tell you about Rorschach? I'll tell you about Rorschach. They all say I'm bat fuck insane. If its insane not to be a prostitute, not to sell out, they're right. I was investigating a kidnap case. Blair Roach, a six year old giant tentacle monster, taken from my favorite children's book. Broke Zack Snyder's arm to get a tip. It was dark when the murderer got back, as dark as it gets.... Did I mention; favorite color is orange?
edit Early Life
My mother was a bloated aging whore dying in an alley with a bottle of Drano in her throat. My father worked for President Truman. My father was a great man, who sometimes liked whores. Like my mother. One Day, came home. Man in old house, with my mom. They were eating raw dough. She choked. He put his hand in her mouth to get it out, told me to find a doctor. When I came back, they didn't have a face, Their hands were growing into each other as well, and they were sort of dancing sideways towards me down the dark hall like a crab.
At age ten, first vigilante action. Brought down two criminals obstructing the sidewalk using only a cigarette and own teeth. Authorities didn't share view of justice. Their pathetic liberalism is little more than a veil for compromise and inaction.
Rorschach's recommended viewing: Favorite show was Sesame Street. No socialist liberal talk of sharing. Just numbers, letters... And sometimes singing. Big Bird never compromised. Bert and Ernie never wallowed in the filth and blood flowing under every city streets. Only Cookie Monster was guilty, and the guilty must be punished. Sesame Street presented a world of absolutes, where there was no grey area.
edit Becoming Rorschach
Tell everyone I became Rorschach after Zach Snyder kidnapped and murdered the tentacle monster and fed it to his dogs. Not entirely true. It was day time, June, flowers blooming, preparing to send their seeds into a cold and uncaring land full of herpes and sharks ready to devour small puppies. Felt depressed and all alone in a threatening world, so ordered happy meal. They chose not to put in the little Owlship toy, chose to steal it for own gain. Chose to slather cheeseburger in mustard. Walter Kovacs closed his eyes, and moments later, jumping across counter, Rorschach opened them. Found manager, name of Borovsky. Russian, probably communist, hoping to take me out with mustard poisoning. Tremors of impact shook my arm. Warm blood splashed my face. And whatever was left of Walter Kovacs died that day. Once a man has seen mustard on his cheeseburger he can never turn his head, never pretend that it isn't there. If God saw what any of us did that day he didn't seem to mind. From then on I knew, God doesn't mess up happy meal orders... We do.
edit Early career
I shed my disguise after watching woman raped and murdered. Kind of turned me on. From then on there was only Rorschach. Partnered with Dan Dreiberg alias Nite Owl 2. More on partners later. Must record details of early crime fighting exploits. I was soft on criminals, I let them live and gave helpful advice. Told them to stay in school and drink their milk.
Rorschach's hobby time fun:
Took up interpretive dance for a time. Tried to show everyone that the world is a sick, pus oozing sore ready to become infected and finally rot and collapse in on itself, but class took it as a cunning take on work of Bach and Italian opera symbolizing birth and renewal. They would rather follow the droppings of socialists and villains then see the truth, even if the trail leads off a cliff. Hung head in failure. Must never attempt interpretive dance again.
edit Abilities and Superhero Identity
My disguise? Old coat, stained tee shirt. Worn Jeans. Sign that says "The End Is Nigh" At night I put away my disguise and become who I am. My coat, my spotless gloves... My pinstriped pants... My Face. Have skill with grabbing and breaking fingers, useful for interrogating the guilty. Also, C02 powered grappling gun given by Nite Owl. Useful for climbing buildings breaking cops ribs. Toilets and Deep Fryers also a specialty. In addition, can bake oatmeal raisin cookies, and hold a B A in linguistics and poetry from Columbia University. Ahem:
intestine twisting hopelessness,
so thick and mucus like
in stinking vomit filled void...
I am but a rancid carcass on the highway
Roadkill for the maggots
But my oatmeal raisin cookies are the tops!"
edit Rorschach and Friends
“Works for government, like my father. Real stand up guy despite occasional moral lapses.”
“Shiny pvc suit, dresses like prostitute, like dear old mom. ”
“Dr Manhattan. Shacks up with Silk Spectre Occasionally. Everyone says better blue than red. But he's only blue, missing red and white. Reason to doubt his patriotism (also refuses to put on pants).”
“Hangs out with large cat and small Asian men all day... Not sure which he's interested in, possibly both. Don't want to investigate further.”
“Heard he wrote a book, said some bad things about the president and Margaret Thatcher.”
“I don't like what you're implying, and I like being followed even less.”
edit Tracking the Mask Killer Theories
Everything connected. Comedian's murder, Moloch's death... Did Lorie sleep with Dan to engineer Manhattan's exile?
- Could Nixon be killing superheroes? Using nose as a weapon. Love affair with comedian went sour? Tricky Dick indeed.
- Bean Juice found in Dreiberg's house and Comedian murder scene. Hurmh...
- Captain America killed by sniper. Comedian wore similar costume. Correlation is obvious. Justice must be done. Even in the face of Armageddon I will not compromise in this.
- Veidt's behind everything..... Still not sure about that damn cat though.
- Hunter S. Thompson murdered? Serves him right. Busy talking about his acid and child pornography. Don't tell me he didn't have a choice.
- Alien invading New York resembles creature in Japanese cartoons Clearly a clue. Must investigate tentacle rape monsters further. Japanese possibly at fault and blamed Ozymandias.
edit The Final Days
Rorschach's uncyclopedia article. Final entry. Veidt's behind everything. I can't imagine a more dangerous opponent. He could kill us both in the snow. That's where we're going, to challenge him to a snowball fight. Whether I'm alive or dead when you read this, I hope someone feeds my cat. Mr Fluffy likes Meow Mix best.