Dismantle Corruption

Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes into you. -- Rorschach RP blog

[driedink-blog1]

@just-one-man-al0ne

His avoidance of this place had been a mistake. Bruce could see it in the eyes of the guards as they smiled at him, nodding as if they didn’t take advantage of the patients here. He had written the asylum off in his attempt to undermine it, destroy it.

And as he entered the room to speak to Kovacs, he realized the truth of it in its entirety. But he wouldn’t mull over his mistakes. He would fix them and that began now.

Bruce had seen this man on the streets and he had made it his mission to remove him from the dark alleys. This city only incited a man like Kovacs, as it could incite anyone. Still, that would mean he had given up hope for Gotham and in turn, for Kovacs. Bruce had had Alfred and wealth, training….in other circumstances, it was possible. Yes, it was possible.

He took a seat across from him and realized the pompous question of ‘do you know who I am’ would be as inane as any to leave his lips.

“Judging by the angle on those bruises, you had your face turned away from them as they attacked.”

The guards would be taken care of and he wouldn’t bring that to the table either.

“Why?” he asked, simply. He had a theory.

As it happened, he couldn’t focus on the face before him. Not immediately. His eyes inched along the body first, examining the pressed suit-- expensive fabric, tailored specifically to the man’s form.

Many men in suits had spoken to him in the past weeks, interested all of a sudden. None of them had been truly entitled, only pretending.

As Walter’s eyes finally settled on the face, his expression maintained its flatness.

“Haven’t been sleeping well,” Walter replied after a moment. “Mattress isn’t very comfortable. Not at my best.”

He stared at Bruce Wayne-- Gotham’s finest smooth talker, old money, reckless, and misleadingly altruistic. There was no right reason for Bruce Wayne to be interested in him, not more than any other citizen of Gotham, and the gears churned on.

Walter had been accused of paranoia on more than one occasion. His justification was practical, simply that he was more willing to see what others closed their eyes to. There was motive, there was resource, there was more than enough entitlement.

That furry flared wider throughout Walter’s hollow depths.

[driedink-blog1]

@just-one-man-al0ne

Bruce had always wanted this building torn down. This old relic. The disease. They said it was there to help people, that it had been improved. That was a lie. All his research supported his conclusion.

Arkham was corrupt and had no interest in helping as much as imprisoning. As much as hoping for the increasing madness to gain them a higher profile. Now it could be, it could be–his rational mind demanded that he examine the possibility–that his hatred for this place was out of fear. Out of fear that he himself belonged there.

His knuckles were bruised so he kept his hands in his sports coat, the thin layer of costume clay not good enough for his liking. But as opposed to his youth, he didn’t hesitate or wince out of pain now.

He walked strong–Bruce Wayne in mind–and the director had rushed to see him. The man had seen donations in his presence here and Bruce could only be grateful in his wise decision to not outwardly voice his dislike of this…institution.

But at his request, that oily smile disappeared.

“Walter Kovacs? Ah, I expected–.”

“Interest in the Joker,” Bruce answered easily, in that light kidding way, but inside –there was only coldness at the situation.

“Well, everyone’s interested in him,” the man replied. Lynch was a small minded man at least, and that was an advantage. “The reporters, the authors.”

“I suspect psychiatrists would be especially,” Bruce said, dryly.

“…without saying…”

“I’m interested because despite his methods, I don’t believe he meant to hurt anyone.”

And he had to do it, didn’t he?

“I’d help someone like him more than a mass murderer, sir.”

“Oh yes. The impoverished do end up here at an unfortunate rate.”

Bruce was glad his hands were in his coat, as they clenched.

“But I can arrange a meeting, I suppose.”

He slowly let go of the fists as he smiled.

Keeping time was nearly impossible in a hole as the one he’d been thrown into. There were no windows, so even the nights and the days blended together. Further more, he could not recall sleeping for any longer than three hour periods.

He could estimate however, despite the growing cotton in his senses, and in the long run his so called sentence had barely even begun.

It mattered little to him.

The guard dogs who patrolled his perimeter used every slightest provocation to unleash their barbaric wrath upon him. Previously they’d pounded him thoroughly for punching at the walls of his cells-- it was the only item that provided enough resistance for his ongoing training --The punishment had not deterred him, he proceeded in a similar method, not ceasing, even as the flesh and bones of his hands began to splinter.

“Hey, hero,” a mutt growled through the slip of Walter’s container, and he continued despite this interruption. He was not concerned that the pack might attempt another struggle for dominance.

His fists proceeded in an a steady rhythm.

“I’m talking to you, shit-stain.”

As he ignored them, their frustration often grew-- it was a predictable pattern, and this time proved no differently. The pack surrounded him, wearing him down into restraints, it was only with a shot of electricity that they managed to manipulate him to his knees.

The hallway flashed by in spots, the voices of crooks and guards swarmed into one pulsating sound, he could feel his feet dragging against the floor.

Then, consciousness flooded back to him. The restraints were thorough, and they shoved him through into a private room, not unlike the one used for his psychiatric evaluation.

He was steady once again, glaring around with vivid eyes, forcing his mind to comprehend the situation.

[driedink-blog1]

@just-one-man-al0ne

They’d made threats, argued that he was a menace, the streets were safer without him. Classic fear mongering. Carelessness on his account, he’d allowed hubris to consume him, he’d sniffed out the set up, but not in time to stop its conclusion.

Thrown into Arkham Asylum, where all the city’s undesirables swarmed -- he was not surprised, he was furious.

Walter waited, patient, ignoring the undesirable surrounding. It was worse than his apartment only in that he was under constant surveillance. They were trying to pick him apart, his mind and his body.

Despite the fact that they’d taken his armor, left him vulnerable, and bruised allover, he refused to remain idle, practicing his exercises daily, not to grow weak in his confinement, to wait for the right moment-- to have the power to defend himself when the time came.

He refused to comply with their sadism, and simultaneously refused to rot away in a padded cell for eternity. No, he was simply biding his time.

[catchthatregenerator]

@driedink

from here: 

“That’s the rub,” Adam said. 

If you can’t save yourself–it would be an egotistical idea, but there was far more to what he was saying. 

“How much are you willing to see? If I show you something I learned a long time ago–something that saved me from losing all my senses in my darkest time–would you listen, I wonder?” 

[driedink-blog1]

Rorschach didn’t often have time to see, as Adam put it. Oh, he saw through his own lenses, what the world was (not what it was becoming), what humanity, and greed, and selfishness had all derived. 

“First, tell me what you're trying to accomplish.”

And then he would consider the rest. Rorschach was still, standing at a distance.

[thejokersjester]

(ɔ ˘⌣˘)˘⌣˘ c)

Rorschach didn’t exactly thank her for the scarf. But the way he held it, silent and awkward and uncertain what to do as he stood there in front of her, Harley still rubbing a bit of sleep from her eyes…it was enough to make her smile. 

She made room for him on the couch, where he sat down slowly and reluctantly, the scarf still in his gloved hands, dark blots swirling and flinching over his Face. Daniel had the good sense to stop offering him presents at Christmas time years ago, but Harley…in all ways that both charmed and disgusted him, she was relentless.

“Put it on,” she croaked softly, still weary with sleep, and Rorschach complied. It was simple white cloth, nothing glamorous or gaudy the way the blonde typically liked to adorn herself with. Because she’d thought of him. What he would want. 

He stiffened when her head suddenly nestled against his shoulder, but didn’t pull away.

“Merry Christmas, Rory.”

She planted a little kiss against his cheek, and his gut twisted all the way up into his throat. Within a few moments, she was already fast asleep, the weight of her leaning into his side, and Rorschach was certain to break his own teeth if he didn’t ease off of how tightly he’d clenched them.

When he dared to look at her, he saw her face softened by sleep, peaceful and delicate and pale. Innocent…no matter everything in her history to the contrary.

His arm moved. He needed to leave. Retreat back into the sobering cold and away from her inviting warmth. But as he stirred, so did she, a little whimper in her throat as one of her slender arms moved across his chest, and sent his heart racing. As he settled back into the couch, still and silent again, he found his arm trapped, resting over her back, fingers curled into a tentative fist so not to touch the slope of her side.

An uncomfortable, desperate breath grumbled out of him. And finally, after several minutes of faltering, Rorschach relented to temptation, and allowed himself to uncoil his fingers, and rest them along the curve of her arm. Her head rising and falling with each anxious breath in his chest, he closed his eyes, both wondering when he could safely pull himself free of her, and distressed to find he didn’t want to.

[driedink-blog1]

tbh I’m still laughing that Rorschach got chastity for his virtue.

[driedink-blog1]

You have all these rules, and you think they’ll save you!

THE DARK KNIGHT SENTENCE STARTERS.

Rorschach’s voice caught in his throat. He found it could be difficult to keep up with Adam, who at times seemed dead set on destroying all of his key foundations. The risk now, was coming off as an idealist. He was not so delusional to think himself the single speck of light in a horribly dull city.

The spots of his mask shifted angrily.

“Not trying to save myself.”

[driedink-blog1]

If you’re good at something, never do it for free.

THE DARK KNIGHT SENTENCE STARTERS.

“Not surprised to hear your capitalist sympathies.” 

[driedink-blog1]

Can you avenge evil without becoming it?

THE DARK KNIGHT SENTENCE STARTERS.

“Obviously,” a brusk reply.

Rorschach stared. There were lots of stories going around, the news thrived in slander of his name. The city’s infection was stagnant. It did not surprise Rorschach that a city seeping in corruption was blind to the true intent of his mission.

He was not the same as the filth he warred against.

[kxllermemes-blog]

THE DARK KNIGHT SENTENCE STARTERS.

What do you propose?

It’s simple.

If it’s so simple, why haven’t you done it already?

If you’re good at something, never do it for free.

Just have to figure out what he’s after.

So why steal them?

Then why do you want to kill me?

I don’t want to kill you!

What would I do without you?

You complete me.

How soon can you move the money?

Give me one reason why I shouldn’t have my boy here pull your head off.

And I thought my jokes were bad!

Alright, so, listen, why don’t you give me a call when you wanna start taking things a little more seriously. Here’s my card.

We’re not intimidated by thugs!

You know, you remind me of my father.

Well hello, beautiful!

A little fight in you. I like that.

You have all these rules, and you think they’ll save you!

The only sensible way to live in this world is without rules. And tonight, you’re gonna break your one rule!

Going to see your wife? You love her?

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to listen to her die?

If I tell you, will you let me go?

It’s not about what I want, it’s about what’s fair!

You thought we could be decent men in an indecent time. But you you were wrong.

The world is cruel, and the only morality in a cruel world is chance. Unbiased, unprejudiced, fair.

He didn’t do anything wrong.

I believe, whatever doesn’t kill you, simply makes you… stranger.

Can you avenge evil without becoming it?

[driedink-blog1]

true-augurey:

For such a man, to have such a life and yet care about this other man–what a thing, she thought. She merely looked at him in reply because there was no reply. He couldn’t win against her. Crucio was on her tongue and even after what she had seen, she could do it to him in a moment and have no regret…

If he didn’t realize she was letting them go, that was his foolish mistake. In fact, despite her understanding of him, she didn’t perceive the source of the rage. Dogs versus….a simple spell that stopped him from struggling and put him to sleep. 

The outrage was irritating. 

Delphi stood, continuing to look at him. She thought she might, in the end, say something to him–but instead, she walked towards the center of the room. His sedative was quickly wearing off and in the middle of this process, she doubted he’d do it again. 

“I wonder,” she said, speaking after all, “if you will tell him you love him after this. But I imagine you won’t. A dog with a bone, yes?”

Then she focused, and Daniel, the real Muggle owlman of a sorts, came into view, his eyes closed, but one could tell he was starting to stir. 

She spoke. And then he approached. Slowly, at his own will. He knelt by Daniel’s side, keeping his front to the woman. His lack of trust was obvious, and his outrage persisted.

Daniel looked as expected, in one piece. Now, Rorschach realized, he was seeing the man for the first time in years. The witch had emulated his form convincingly, though this Daniel, the real Daniel was worse for wear. Like a comatose patient-- more hollowed in the cheeks than he should be, with deep bags beneath his eyes, despite the unconscious condition.

He stared for a moment, processing her words, full of insult and ill intent.

Daniel stirred-- Rorschach pulled his face back into place. Covering the fury that she had no right to see, erasing the secrets that she’d ripped out of him.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” His voice was a low snarl, muffled once again behind latex.

[driedink-blog1]

lumiiinar:

“Thank you for telling me.”

Unfortunately, it was a common story. The bravest thing someone could do in this city was speak up, but somehow sirens drowned out the few that did. It was a corrupt and unsteady structure that was determined to topple over. That wrath kept bringing him back.

“I know what it’s like to be angry at them. All of them out there, for not doing anything. It’s hard not to. I feel them killing each other everyday. It never changes yet…”

She bent down and got a good grip of thief’s collar. She’d drag him out to a better lit part of the street and tie him to lamp post, where the cops could find him.

“Did you ever find the person who did it?”

The longer he lived the more Rorschach understood himself. There’d been people in the past, sharing their sympathies with him-- he’d listened with the same blank cover as always.

Over time he’d learned that none of them really understood, no matter the conviction with which they spoke. He fought the battle on his own.

The way her sentence had trailed away softly, meant undoubtedly for connection. It only fanned the fury deep within him.

“Yes.”

Concise, power in that one word.

[driedink-blog1]

Which Of The Seven Heavenly Virtues Is Strongest In You?

The Heavenly Virtue that is strongest in you is Chastity. This virtue is not exclusively about abstaining from sexual activities. You have purity in mind as you pursue education and wisdom, cleanliness of your body through health and hygiene, moral wholesomeness, and you have the ability to stay focused in the face of temptation.

Tagged by: @catchthatregenerator

Tagging: anyone

[knightwayne]

endless list of favorite characters → rorschach

↳ “Never compromise. Not even in the face of Armageddon.”

[catchthatregenerator]

@driedink

[driedink-blog1]

lumiiinar:

“Sorry.”

She knew the mask was a part of him. It was his face, probably worn with so much conviction that he considered it his true one. 

“I’m not questioning its validity, Mr. Rorschach. I just want to know why you chose that face. Could have been any other.”

He didn’t want to explain. The symmetry was clear to him, those perfect shapes flowing in a smooth arch, not a battle for once, just black on white, a hypnotic swirl. 

He sighed quietly.

“Fabric was made specific for a woman. She’s dead now. Raped and murdered outside apartment building full of witnesses.”

[driedink-blog1]

true-augurey:

Delphi tilted her head, feeling his energy building up to a standstill. A freeze. She felt the grip on her arm but didn’t feel it at all. Instead, with her free arm, she raised her hand and took off the mask herself. 

It was slick with sweat and the man underneath–

There he was. He was marked by this world, marked by his own mind, lacking in a mask to hide his own…shortcomings. Carved out of rock with sharp edges. She kept her face neutral at the wildness and looked into his eyes. 

 She saw it. All. It was a fierce reach into his past but his past was always his present. You didn’t have to go too far, and it was possible he barely felt it. She saw the woman. The men. The–blood. 

All growing towards an iron fortress of no compromise. No shades of gray. Of black and white and bared teeth. A woman in an alley, somewhere. Dogs. 

She had seen enough. 

“Forget the question,” she said. She understood. She was going to mock his affection, his denial of it, but what was the point? There was no…sport in it. 

“Your friend is all right. I’ll lift the spell. Touch me again, however, and your friend will pay the price. Understand?”

He twitched as her fingers brushed the edge of his mask. It was an instinctual gesture, and he reared back when she finally flayed him. A heavy breath, sour breath, brushed free of him.

Despite the flinch he stared back in to her eyes with a hard defiance.

She’d bested him, then. And with his glare he fought back. She was reaching into him, and he was somehow aware of the fact. It served to infuriate him further, and the longer she stared the more his face pinched, angry lines cracking across his whether skin.

The obnoxious tufts of red hair, were flattened by grime and sweat. A fading bruise guarded the skin below his eye, with a weeks worth of stubble lining his hollow cheeks, and ridged jaw line.

The dullness of his eyes was invigorated by a new hateful fire. He did glare back at her.

Magic, he concluded-- not so distressed to realize. Rorschach snatched the mask back away from her, resisting the urge to surrender, and cover himself immediately.

“Harm him, and you’ll wish you never threatened me.” It was his brisk reply.

[driedink-blog1]

true-augurey:

“Strangle me, kill me, and his mind will die. He’ll just be a shell at the end,” Delphi said, simply. “Of course I could be lying. You could just try and find out–.”

“Or you could answer one question. Just one. And I’ll tell you where he is.”

She paused.

“Take off your mask as well. I want to see you.”

It was the recommended negotiation that finished him. Rorschach was furious, cornered, the way she said it like it was his only option. It was beginning to feel that way, truly.

He could see in her eyes. A tolerance for pain. Beating the truth from her would be impossible, he was suddenly certain of that.

She really had trapped him, the realization snatched at him. And at a loss, Rorschach stood frozen, with her trapped in his clutches. He shut his eyes, struggling to think of alternatives, to sense his old partner in the darkness, as he had many times before.

It was a fruitless effort. And he was sick, disappointed in himself as well as Daniel, for permitting this.

One of his hands dug fiercely into her arm, a subconscious measure.