There's No Face Behind The Ink

“In a room where people unanimously maintain a conspiracy of silence, one word of truth sounds like a pistol shot.” [TW- Misogyny, violence. He's brutal if he finds killers. REALLY brutal.] [Associated with Knight's Vocation]

[thisismytrueface-blog]

We Fight Till We Die [KV/Event Open]

[arcoverreacting]

Lack of prana was hardly a problem for Tony. Or rather, he chose to pretend that was the case. He chose to ignore his body feeling weaker and weaker as he walked through the streets of Fuyuki City, looking for a battle. It was just something he felt like doing, not something he needed to do to prevent himself from fading. It felt odd wearing the suit for this long, but he didn’t mind it much either – he had designed it to be comfortable, after all.

Kondo was of no use to him, hence the lack of his master’s presence at his side. He’d already written him off as an idiot, and it wasn’t like he’d had plans of listening to his orders anyhow. He would fight his own battles, restore his own prana, and deal with Kondo as he saw fit.

He had his helmet on, repulsor beams at the ready, waiting for a battle to come to him. Soon enough, he heard his systems responding to him – Mr. Stark, threat located directly above you. To this, Tony turned around, aiming his repulsor beam above him and firing – missing the target just barely.

“Alright, we both know why we’re here – so let’s get it over with.”

[thisismytrueface-blog]

A man in a metal suit. Or was it a rich boy playing at being a fighter? For a second, Rorschach was reminded of Ozymandias. Maybe it was the ostentatious color. Or the overconfidence, despite the hiding. Hiding, hiding... maybe he thought he was a hero, too. Hiding his face like that. They said Rorschach hid his face. Not true. His face was plain as day. People were just scared because it changed.

In hindsight, the vigilante should have expected that laser beam. Manhattan could do something similar. Except it was artificial. Partially. If he were a Servant, those beams would be stronger than usual. All these thoughts came later. After he jumped out of the stairwell. Impact had been hard, but he'd avoided the beam. This one was strong... but nothing was impossible.

"I know why you're here. The War. But I'm no Servant." A dangerous thing to say, true, but to come to blows against a Servant was idiocy... and he wasn't going to waste a Command Spell to bring the girl here. Not yet. "Your Master couldn't come with you?"

[thisismytrueface-blog]

We Fight Till We Die [KV/Event Open]

So... Servants were slipping away due to lack of prana? Rorschach wasn't very surprised in his case. There was a definite barrier between himself and Otae, especially when he had discovered one of the ways prana was restored. Inside, the vigilante knew he was limiting her ability... but it was necessary. Women weren't meant to fight. Especially not in a war like this. It seemed necessary now, though.

She needed prana... but they needed information.

From his vantage point, the inked man had a clear view of the street below. What he needed to look for was the unusual. The people that looked out of place. Incapacitate the Masters. It made finding the Servants easier. Either that, or a team would be eliminated from the Grail Way. Both outcomes were good. He scanned the streets, ink shifting in a lazy manner... then settled.

Down there. Sneaking down a stairwell to the right of the building with barely a sound, Rorschach eyed the person before him, before readying himself to fight. He still had four Command Seals. Now, it was only a matter of taking this one on before calling Otae in...

[fourth-wall-crisis]

People die if they are killed [kv open]

[fourth-wall-crisis]

Oh wow, okay. This guy actually believes Deadpool over here about fictional things. Actually, it was quite true, but it’s not like no one would EVER even turn their ears towards it and pass it off as some sort of insanity. Actually, it is some sort of insanity… kind of…sort of. Well, it could also mean that people come off as puppets to the writers of their plot and setting if that were the case…

“Who aren’t real?”

He turned away his head and paused for a moment, with a thought, and raised a brow.

“We’re all just having muns type these replies right? y’know with all the roleplaying stuff going on! Naw, that’s just nonsense. I actually dunno. Maybe if I see people pop up in my faces out of nowhere from times when I watched some TV or played video games, I guess right?”

You guess, okay Wade.

Speaking of which, talk about the guy at the counter… He actually did see the gunshot, and was one step ahead of the two, already on the phone calling 119(Japan’s digit for emergency) obviously. Oh boy, way to go Wade. Time to have some real fun right?

Deadpool pointed towards the counter, and spoke in a slightly worried tone.

“Don’t look now buddy but… I think it’s time to y’know… run.”

[thisismytrueface-blog]

It wasn't he wanted to believe, so much as he needed to. The vigilante's mind worked in twisted and strange ways, and to his logic what this Deadpool was saying made sense. In it's own mad way. Still, the little asides and looks at something, somewhere, were disorienting. Was he divulging something to an unknown observer? Better to keep any thoughts within. Or in a journal. 

"... Video games?" Although Heroic Spirits might have knowledge of modern day technology, that advantage hadn't been imparted on Masters... meaning that Rorschach was still in the dark about many of the things about this modern day. But at least having this... Deadpool on his side meant someone who could identify other Servants and Masters, and any possible strengths and weaknesses they may have.

Eyeing the man at the counter of his eye, Rorschach gave Deadpool a curt nod before making his way to the entrance. No need to hang around here anymore. But... they'd have to get rid of the witness, as well. Otherwise they could be compromised. And find the system with the camera, as well. "You find the camera system first. I'll take care of the witness."

[fourth-wall-crisis]

People die if they are killed [kv open]

[fourth-wall-crisis]

BANG

Deadpool shot his M9 at the video camera behind the vigilante. His superhuman perception made sure that he aimed for the recording circuits so that the image inside the camera would be irretrievable. After all, his clairvoyance was around rank C anyways. Twirling his pistol stylishly, he holstered it back onto his belt and re-clicked the safety switch on it.

“No one found your journal bud. Like I said, you’re a fictional character where I’m from y’know. As in, you were in a movie, created by people.”

He turned away from the vigilante and swayed out his arms as if he was pretending to be some smartass scientist trying to preach on about his ideas and philosophies on his so-called experiment… without the experiment.

It kind of made the itty bitty mutant a little excited about how this guy was interested in his so-called insanity fourth-wall. The only person to ever really listen to this idiot’s crap about being a comic book character was his ol’ beloved Death herself. And maybe a certain son of Sparda whom they shared pizza’s with in another weird universe crossover thingy.

“And me? Why why it’s an honor to introduce myself. I’m the most handsome, strongest superhero, and the sexiest piece of hunk ever Deadpool!.”

His arms pointed towards his chest, introducing himself. Piece of hunk, more like piece of shit Deadpool. Not to mention how he was anything BUT a superhero. Oh and did I forget to mention the horror that lies beyond that mask?

[thisismytrueface-blog]

How had he smuggled that gun into here? And why did the people at the counter seem not to care? Maybe there was more validity to what the red-suited man was saying than Rorschach had thought. In this Fuyuki City, things weren't normal. There was magic. There were killers. And nobody seemed overly bothered. In his world, people would have been terrified of such things. But maybe the reason for the difference... was because his world wasn't re-

Impossible. Wasn't it? Maybe. This was a strange occurrence. "They... made a movie about me." A slight pause. "How did I look like in the movie, compared to me now?" Hollywood would have glamorized him, probably. Gotten some big shot stars to play himself and Daniel. Some glamorous model as Ms. Jupiter. A grizzled older actor as he Comedian. As for Manhattan...

They would have thought of something. 

But of course Rorschach was interested. It wasn't as if the inked man was particularly sane himself, and so the theories were beginning to seep into his already warped brain. What kind of cruel writer had created a world that terrible? Still, at the very least it had given him a goal. To stop that sort of world from becoming a reality. To prevent crime. To have peace.

"Deadpool. I see." Very full of himself, wasn't he? But... if he knew about Rorschach being fictional, perhaps he knew about the others. Maybe he wasn't the only one. And in this case, knowledge was power. "Are there any other people like me here? People who... aren't real?"

[sweet-but-sickening-deactivated]

♛ This Displeases The Prince

[sweet-but-sickening-deactivated]

A solid blow. The blonde’s grin widened once he felt his boot connect with the older man’s face, a sick sense of satisfaction arising from causing him pain. He deserved everything he got for hurting the Prince, after all.

His smile went away once the foreign voice reached his ears. ‘You have to be kidding…’ The assassin scowled once the police announced their arrival, demanding them to stop fighting. How stupid, he could dispose of them easily if he wanted to.  But the man in front of him was speaking, snapping his attention back to his opponent.

Most would perhaps consider his warning, maybe even heed it. But that wasn’t an option for Belphegor, his pride and self-confidence refusing to allow it. Instead he smirked and leaned close to the others face, making sure the other could hear every venomous word that fell from his lips.

“The Prince doesn’t take orders from trash.”

With that, he turned on his heel, jumping on top of the dumpster at the end of the alley. He then turned and leapt onto the fire escape that hung higher than a normal person would be able to reach. He pulled himself up and turned to shoot the man a victorious grin and a wave.

“Bye-bye~.”

With that he reached the top of the roof and darted off, running across the closely-built-together buildings while ignoring the shouts for him to stop.

He was a Prince, he didn’t have to listen to them anyway.

[thisismytrueface-blog]

Why did people always have to interrupt? Especially the police. Their incompetence cost cities and countries the lives of their people, every day. Corrupt, stupid, or both. Honest cops were rarities. One in a million. And that wasn't enough, especially with the rise of crime and the Holy Grail War. They were just in the way. Just useless fodder, and obstacles to obtaining the Grail.

His Royal Braggart was either too brave or too stupid to take Rorschach's threat seriously. But the question here lied with the strength of both Servants. What class they fought with. And how strong they were. Rorschach could grudgingly admit that Otae was strong. Inhumanly, terrifyingly strong. But just what kind of Servant did this Belphegor have?

Rorschach would have to find out. Have to take him down. Not any of the other Masters and Servants. They'd probably leave the Master and take out the Servant. No. Both had to be killed. But even what was behind the face of the inked man curled into a snarl. HA. A man from privilege, calling him trash. Like all the ones who had called him son of a whore. Worthless. Nothing.

He would defeat the Prince. And, for maybe the first time, the vigilante would relish destroying the blonde killer. Making him feel the true rage of trash. But now wasn't the time to dwell. The inked man had to get out of here. Without looking behind him, the vigilante darted out of the alleyway.

By the time the police managed to reach the alleyway there was no trace of the battle, except for the droplets of blood on the ground.

[investsin]

001. « via seal.

[investsin]

“Killing people?” Her expression showed the realization that suddenly hit her: this was a problem—! She adjusted her coat for a moment as she noticed the others movement, a bit reluctant to admit that she’d have to do something. Considering .. well, that she was one of those outsiders .. causing trouble, killing people and fighting in the streets. With marks on their hands— thinking about it made her a bit discouraged that she was being grouped with a rag tag bunch, but it also gave her an idea on what she’d have to do.

“Is no one trying to?” she’d imagine the police force in this town would try and do something, so she asked a rather obvious question. She was apart of the NOL, and even if she wasn’t on her primary mission around this area she had a duty to the citizens and herself to apprehend whomever she recognizes as being a threat! Well, not exactly, but that was the gist down to it. It was simple enough for her to understand and simple enough for her to take to heart. The blonde handed the sheet back to the other, a bit reluctant because of her thoughts.

“Could you tell me if you’ve seen any of these people with marks on their hands?” Maybe someone couldn’t catch them? If they couldn’t, she was fit enough to .. and she’d at least be doing some good by going after them, and if that’s all she could do at this moment then she’d at least like to try! 

“You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it!”

[thisismytrueface-blog]

He nodded. She was finally starting to get the gravity of the situation. There were no less than five unrepentant serial killers out on the streets. Not to mention the others fighting and starting trouble where it wasn't needed. There was supposed to be a regulator, wasn't there? A Church. But apparently God's chosen messengers weren't spreading the message of peace. Someone was going to have to get to these guys, and take them out of the war.

A slight hesitation. Should he tell her the truth of the situation? Would it be wise? Then again, she would probably find out sooner or later. [What can the police do? Too dangerous. Many of them are serial killers. Other mass arson. They do... things. Magic sometimes. Or they fight too fast.] Part of the truth was fine, for now. She couldn't know about Rorschach and his vigilante activities. Too dangerous to tell another participant.

But who should she know about... what names could be shared? Maybe descriptions... Scribbles on the paper again. [A black-haired girl with red eyes and a scythe. They say she killed thirty in a single night. Saw the bodies get taken away. Didn't count. Orange haired man in purple shirt. Word on the street is he's a torturer. He was skipping around. Man in a trench coat. Like an outlaw. Blew up an entire street. He tipped his hat to me.] A pause. Would he name "The Prince"? ... No. That arrogant killer was Rorschach's to take down, and his alone. [And a pink-haired girl. She tortures, too. Locked eyes. Left after that.]

[osiustimeditabitur]

o finalis destinatio [open]

[osiustimeditabitur]

Lucy examined the other man closely, questioning to herself why someone would be so concerned for victims they had never met. The way he spoke made it clear that he had no relation to any of the dead. And yet, he made it apparent that he sought justice for those lives that were ended. Why? What were his reasons? Why did the lives of that family matter?

He walked even closer now, perhaps readying himself for a threat. Lucy was prepared for whatever he had to say, and even more prepared to let this stranger join the others in a pile on the driveway. After his statement, she opened her mouth to speak, and was then interrupted by a punch in the face. Such a hit left the Diclonius dazed for a few seconds, blood having been drawn from her mouth.

When she regained her composure, she glared back at the man, anger etched into her features, malice coming from her stare.

“You shouldn’t have done that!”

The pinkette’s vectors began to take their shape, her mentality shaken enough to allow them to be seen. Some were lifting various objects from their places within the room in preparation to be used as projectiles. The other arms began to close in on the space between her and her now attacker. If he didn’t move fast enough, or if he didn’t get help in time, there wouldn’t be anything remaining by the time she was finished.

[tamagoyakijou-deactivated201211]

Her head was turned slightly towards the house with her body turned towards the street.  She was trying to listen carefully for any scuffling while still watching the street for any humans that may have come around to see what was happening.  She had considered trying to clean up the bodies in the yard out of respect but there were more important things to think about.  Unfortunately, the bodies would have to wait until the tension had died.

So when she heard the distinct sound of flesh being hit, she immediately turned to look at the house and ran inside.  There was no point trying to figure out if it was a fight or anything but that.  Seconds mattered.  So by the time she reached the room the pink haired woman had already regained her composure.

Without saying a word she bounded into the room and grabbed Rorschach’s shoulder, pulling him almost violently behind so that she could stand between him and the woman.  Another servant, though she wasn’t aware of what class.  There was a short moment where her eyes darted around the room as she noticed objects floating in the air.  Telekinesis? Naturally, Otae couldn’t see the vector-like hands that were being used to pick up the objects but the same theory still applied.  More space.

“Rory, get out of this room!  Now!” And then, she charged.  The room was too small for any sort of fight so she needed to force it outside.  Her only goal was to forcefully push both herself and the woman out of the window.  So with strength and speed she charged at her, not caring about or knowing about the vectors the girl had.  True to her name, she was  Berserker.

[thisismytrueface-blog]

Their lives mattered because they no longer had lives. Those who have done no wrong do not deserve to die. Especially for a stupid reason like that. Especially for any reason, for that matter. Unless they had committed a crime, they didn't need to be killed. Not in a manner that brutally, especially. She hadn't even spared the children. That was unforgivable. She was unforgivable.

Watching out of the corner of his eyes, Rorschach saw the objects being lifted. Telekinesis? Something like it. He'd seen Manhattan do it before... but not with floating arms. Not like this. He would have to run and duck. But he couldn't back down, and let her win. He was Rorschach, and-

"errrk!" The vigilante found himself violently pulled behind his Servant. So he hadn't needed to use a Command Seal. Good. For a Berserker, she had surprisingly good instincts and rationale. For a second he hesitated. Was she giving him orders? But she was right. There was no way that he would be able to take on a Servant. So he ran out of the room as the Berserker pushed the murderer out a window.

With hope, she could cope. But, if need be, the vigilante would strengthen her will. After all, he had four Command Seals.

Hopefully, she wouldn't need them.

[sweet-but-sickening-deactivated]

♛ This Displeases The Prince

[sweet-but-sickening-deactivated]

Most would think that in such a manic state, the senses would be dulled down and made more unpredictable. But for Bel, that was the complete opposite. Oh, he was unpredictable alright, but if anything, his senses were sharpened to the limit. Nothing escaped his notice. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning, calculating. Which was the best point of attack, the best point of escape, the trajectory if he threw the knives that way…

The very second the man moved, Bel had already formulated a plan. The man was heading right for him, the smirk unwavering as he got closer. Three steps was all it was to close the distance, but it was all the time he needed.

One step backward and the blonde threw his head back, the fist skimming his chin as he seemed to fall backward, the fingers barely grazing his chest. His hands fell down to catch himself before he hit the ground, a white leather boot shooting up, aimed straight for the man’s face. If it hit, it would surely end up breaking his nose.

[thisismytrueface-blog]

Both of them had eyes darting back and forth. Watching. Trying to calculate. But Rorschach was not the sort of man who planned three moves in advance. He improvised. He worked with what the world threw at him. Fists up, feet ready. Not the sort of man who used blades. Turn them against someone, maybe. But the vigilante was first and foremost a brawler.

It was too late to draw his fist back. Too late for a change of plan. The fist barely grazed the blonde man. Rorschach almost caught the foot square on. He retreated, but not enough. The boot caught the vigilante square on the jaw instead. Dizzy, the inked man shook his head, willing himself to stand.

Then, the sound of someone approaching. "This is the police! Break up your fight!" No no no no NO. He couldn't get caught. Not here. Not now. Not ever. But it meant the other had to cease fighting as well. "Listen, and listen well. You're never gonna win the Grail War. Not as long as I'm around. So might as well get out of the fight now." Rorschach would never let a murderer get his hands on the Grail. Over his cold, dead body.

[fourth-wall-crisis]

People die if they are killed [kv open]

[fourth-wall-crisis]

Well this was sudden… not really, considering how the vigilante is the ruthless type, but really I mean, maybe the fact that he’s suddenly in Japan like some sort of death game would give a clue. After all, this isn’t the Cold War any more… Or maybe it’s just the fact that this idiot in red right here outright and blatantly spoke of his identity.

“Oowch…! Wow easy there hot shot.”

It’s not like Wade wasn’t used to being grabbed and tossed into some corner really. Technically that’s usually what happened to him when he opens his mouth anyways. Usually that just follows him almost getting his ass kicked most of the time.

The mercenary scruffed away from the hands of the so-called masked vigilante by giving a quick shove on his chest, and backed away, keeping his distance. He then patted down his shoulder and collar, cracking his spine through his neck.

“How do I know your name y’say? Well, let’s just say you’re a non-existent fictional character from where I’m from.”

Why not just spill the beans now right? I mean, no one really believes him or ever did, and probably never will, when it came to the so called parallel universes and fourth call crap. People just usually pass it on as some sort of stupid joke, or in Deadpool’s case, as his so-called insanity. Maybe that’s why the Grail gave him a Berserker class really.

“Oh and let’s not forget that we’re in Jaypan right now. You should at least have a nice ol’ smile right—”

He pointed his index finger over behind his shoulders.

“Somebody say cheese! You’re on camera.”

[thisismytrueface-blog]

Rorschach had simply assumed it had been Manhattan. When a man gets temporarily displaced by a being with godlike powers and wakes up in another place, it's safe to assume that they were the cause of it. Besides, he knew that Dr. Manhattan was more than capable of doing this. And, much as the vigilante hated to admit it, he would like to believe that there was still some human left in him. Something that had wanted the inked man to stop war for good.

Glaring at the man in the bodysuit, the vigilante could feel the oddness without his face. It seemed almost... wrong to speak like this. When he was without his face, he wasn't meant to act like Rorschach. He was supposed to be normal. Plain. Unnoticeable. But now that he'd been called out for his vigilante nature, it seemed wrong to stay like this. Thankfully, he always kept his face in a side pocket. Hastily putting it on, Rorschach opened his eyes. And nodded.

This was much better.

"Non-existent... fictional character?" Impossible. Unless Manhattan had somehow found a way to warp time and space, to make people believe that they had never existed. Either that, or his journal had found its way to its destination. People had heard his story. They knew what had happened. With Veidt, with Manhattan, with Antartica... and Daniel. 

"So, they found my journal. Or made you think I didn't exist." A slight pause, and then Rorschach spoke more urgently. "If they talked about what I did... did they talk about what came after? Did Veidt's lie work?"

Looking over the shoulder of the man in red, Rorschach saw a security camera and narrowed his eyes behind his face. Of course. He shouldn't have thought himself safe. if anyone got their hands on the footage from this supermarket, they would know. He needed to find a new supermarket. A new place to live. But first...

"Just who are you anyways?"

[kuruuryuu-blog]

Breaking and entering; 01 [open]

[kuruuryuu-blog]

The man before him looked… weird? Uryuu had never seen anything like it before: stitched face mask, overcoat and hat - he looked straight out of a video game at the arcades. There was no way this guy was real: nobody would dress this absurdly in public, it would attract too much attention to themselves. It was a miracle that this guy hadn’t been arrested for suspicious behaviour yet.

Fuck, this guy coulda been confused for the serial killer the way he was trotting around. Uryuu couldn’t hold back his laughter at the sight before him.

“What the fuck are you supposed to be? You look absurd in that getup, you know that right?! Give me a break.”

Uryuu shrugged off the man as nothing more than some poor cosplayer trying to play superhero in the night. He didn’t think of him as a threat in the slightest, instead too busy laughing at the situation in general. What he said too: ‘any last words’ - was this guy confusing himself for some tough guy? At least come up with a better looking costume if you want to fool someone into thinking you’re some tough guy.

Regardless of the actual danger, Uryuu quickly realised that this guy who was playing vigilante would probably stir up a fuss. Loud shouting and banging, stuff like that. And that would put him at risk of getting caught red-handed by someone who could actually put him away. Seizing the opportunity, Uryuu ran up behind the boy tied up and pulled out his scalpel, beginning to slice slightly down his right cheek. With his left arm hanging over the boy’s shoulder, he looked up at the man before him and smirked.

“You’re gonna turn around and exit out from where you came in, if you don’t want anything worse to happen to this kid. Got that, pal?”

Uryuu licked his lips as he waited for the man’s response. Of course, regardless of his company’s response, the children with him were going to die. It would just be a matter if another person died along with them

[thisismytrueface-blog]

Not out of a video game. More like a comic book, maybe. But Rorschach wasn't your typical Superman, or friendly neighborhood Spiderman. He was Batman stripped down to the bone. Batman with no qualms about killing those who killed others. That was his way. That was how it had been for the past ten or so years. He had been soft once. Like the other heroes. But no longer. 

Cocking his head right and left with no thought, the cracking of his bones should have been audible to the blood-drenched killer.

"Bad last words. But I'll answer the question. I'm Rorschach. Your executioner."

Which wouldn't mean anything to the killer, but meant quite a lot in New York City. It was synonymous with jail time, or vicious images of serial killers and criminals brutally bludgeoned, beaten, or left to become charred corpses. It was basically a death sentence to any criminal who heard it. Including this one.

But the child's eyes were looking up at him in fear and pain. He'd have to wrestle the boy and girl away. Turning away from the murderer, the inked man idly walked away, his fingers brushing against the little knicknacks on a nearby table. Picture frame... porcelain... there. A paperweight, maybe. Closing his fingers around it, the inked man turned on his heel before pitching the paperweight straight at the face of the killer, or as close as he could get.

Even as the paperweight was released Rorschach was already running. A bit dizzy, but he shook that off after the first few steps. Table in the way. Not a problem. Built up enough running speed. A vault over it. Gymnastics was useful. Needed to save the boy. Boy tied up. Needed to get the scalpel. Needed to catch the killer. Needed to kill the killer.

Needed the scalpel.

[fourth-wall-crisis]

People die if they are killed [kv open]

[fourth-wall-crisis]

Let’s see… 14 bags of Calbee chips, 10 boxes of instant UFO fried noodles, 20 bottles of Calpico, and 4 6-pack cans of Sapporo beer. This should last him for a few days. Yes, a few days with all the crap he’s buying… Speaking of buying, this guy doesn’t even have any yen in his pocket, only a bunch of hundred dollar bills… oh who cares really, make the other guy walk to the airport for a cash exchange right? Yup, good idea Deadpool.

Before the idiot in the bright red jumpsuit walked towards the register, with the worried and obviously confused employee constantly staring at him like he was some sort of idiot, actually he was an idiot but we all know that. Anyways, before he approached the counter, his eye caught a familiar sight— I think…

“Wait a minute, is that Rorschach? Is that THE Rorschach? Oh sweet jelly banannas.”

Wade whispered to himself, remembering those moments he saw when he was Watching the Watchmen when he was half dazed from getting his ass kicked by the Hulk one day. He dropped his oversized basket and hopped over towards the man, as he grabbed his hand and shook it with both of his own hands.

“Oh man, oh lord hey Rorschach buddy, you have no idea how much it’s a freakin’ honor to meet you man! hey hey! do that grunt you do! Y’know! when you go all HURM and stuff!”

Good job dumbass Wade, you blew his cover, and his day off.

[thisismytrueface-blog]

And of course that hadn't worked. He'd almost made it, too. With a sudden "errrk" the vigilante found himself shaking hands with one of the most enthusiastic and irritating people he had ever met. What was he blabbering on about? No... wait... it wasn't all blabbering. He'd mentioned... The vigilante's normally dull and watery eyes snapped to full attention as he heard his name being said.

RORSCHACH. No. That was impossible. Nobody knew what he looked like underneath his face. Only the people who had arrested him, or the people from the Charlton Home. And none of them were Master or Servant material. At least, he thought not. The possibility seemed very low, though. Especially since he'd said Rorschach. Not Kovacs. Most people associated this "face' with Kovacs.

Pulling his hand away from the fully covered hands of the man in the bodysuit with a slight "Hurm...", Rorschach grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and pulled him into an abandoned aisle. "How do you know that name?" If someone was spreading his identity, he needed to know. And fast.

[osiustimeditabitur]

o finalis destinatio [open]

[osiustimeditabitur]

It was a detail that had escaped the mutant - her clothes being stained with blood. She would never have paid attention to such an idea, normally. Then again, Lucy was usually never confronted within the first hour of a killing. Maybe that was the reason why the Diclonius chose not to strike immediately. To have been caught off guard like that…

The other, having moved enough so that he was easier to see, had been wearing a sort of mask. Given the circumstances, and if Lucy’s clothing hadn’t given so much evidence,  one would be more inclined to blame him for the murders. Ah, too late now. His tone made him seem less of a passing law enforcement officer, and more of a hero type.

Yet, now that he’d stated his demand, there was little that Lucy could say to prevent any sort of violence from erupting. Whatever words escaped her lips would not be enough to halt the man’s apparent need for justice, which would lead to his gruesome demise.

“…I needed a place to stay.”

[tamagoyakijou-deactivated201211]

Being the good little servant that she was, Otae stood outside as if on guard and watching for any passers by.  She didn’t feel like having to explain this to anyone else should they arrive but she also felt it important to give her hero of a master his space.  Whatever was in the house was definitely a Servant, that much Otae knew.  Only Servants could recognize other Servants this clearly.

She turned her brown eyes back to the house with a harsh expression. The bloodshed behind her in the driveway bothered her on a human level but nothing more.  Instead she just looked stone faced and serious.

[thisismytrueface-blog]

She had no remorse about her actions. Then again, it didn't seem like many of these killers did. The Prince, the one with his pentagrams, and now this woman... but Rorschach didn't question it. Start asking what makes them tick, and you became one of them. A cold-blooded killer of innocents. That was why Rorschach fought firmly on the other side. To get rid of people like this. Like them... and like her. Fingers flexing tensely in leather gloves.

Rorschach knew who they would believe. A supposedly pretty girl (there was no appeal here), or a man with a face made of ink? One that they singled out as a suspicious character. Most policemen were unfortunately incompetent, anyways. Their opinion didn't matter. Not when the vigilante took matters into his own hands.

Cocking his head to one side, Rorschach strode over to the other. Staring her straight in the eye. Retaliating with a whisper.

"You could have just asked."

Without hesitation, he attempted to punch the pink-haired girl in the face full on. Hopefully, she would be incapacitated. At the very least, dizzy. Then, much as he hated to admit it, if she were a Servant then Otae would have to be involved. They were Dr. Manhattan strength, or slightly lower, which meant trouble. But for now, the inked man would manage.

[osiustimeditabitur]

o finalis destinatio [open]

[osiustimeditabitur]

The inside of the house, though not particularly high class, still proved to present itself as a decent living arrangement. At least, it would be, until the time came where the authorities investigated the murders outside. As if a human with a firearm could cause the mutant to cease to exist. When that happened, there would just be more bloodshed, and Lucy would find another house and repeat this cycle once more. 

It did not take much time for the mutant to give a look around her new living arrangements. Sleeping areas were spacious enough, the living room connected to a kitchen of sorts, and everything seemed to be kept nice and neat. While the Diclonius cared not for the decor that was spread about the area, it was almost as if the members of the household strived to give off the impression of wealth. 

It was here that Lucy sought to prepare for the inevitable gnaw of hunger, looking through the kitchens for simple sustenance. Cans of food seemed to be her better finds at this point, and she set them aside to be consumed when necessary. Until those were to be utilized, perhaps a bit of rest would be in her best interest. She began to walk through the kitchen and back into the living room, intending to take the stairs to one of the bedrooms above.

Instead, she stopped a room short, a strange man having entered inside as well. She stared at him blankly, deciding that it would have been a waste of energy to deal him the same fate as the family of four. What luck. No harm would come to him unless he presented a threat, a privilege that was not so carelessly extended to most of his kind. 

“You should leave.”

[thisismytrueface-blog]

The interior of the house had been largely undisturbed. Seemed right, since the family had been murdered outside. Average house. Many pictures of smiling funny. The vigilante wondered why they'd been chosen. Maybe a personal agenda. Maybe just random. How strong was the killer? Had to be extremely strong. Necks were twisted, arms ripped out of sockets.

Probably part of the Grail War. Only thing that made sense. Why be that strong if you weren't part of the war? Question now was if the killer was Master or Servant. Probably Servant, if they were that strong. No sense for the Grail to choose someone like that as a Master. Not unless something fishy was going on.

Searching for signs to indicate who or what the killer could be, Rorschach didn't notice the other person slipping into the room. When he heard the sound of a menacing voice, the vigilante turned his head to see a woman. A woman with the blood of the four on her clothes. Rising up from his crouched position, the masked vigilante shook his head.

"Not until you explain why you had to kill that family."

[fourth-wall-crisis]

People die if they are killed [kv open]

You know, I think ol’pooly is getting used to being thrown around all over the universe. I mean one time he was slapping around magical girls, and the other time he was being slapped around by some stag bettle-headed green-eyed girl with a scythe.

And now he’s in Japan, good old Japan. And guess what, he’s now in Fuyuk-…

←Servant Class Berserker

“What…? Is this that anime thing again where people in Jaypan kill each other over some grail…or…something right?”

Wade scratched the underside of his chin thinking about where the hell he is for the moment. He’s familiar with the name ‘Fuyuki’ and how the whole story and setting goes and all but… Oh well who cares right? For the time being, he decided that he wants to enjoy his time in Japan before he gets slapped around again. Good idea. Let’s walk in the streets, in public, with people, in your bright ass jumpsuit, with weapons behind your back, not giving a fuck. Oh and hey, what about your master who supposedly summoned you here? Nope, this is him not giving a fuck.

“Well y’know what, screw this Holy Grail War crap, I want my nachos damit.”

He decided to walk through the shopping district in Fuyuki, in his bright red jumpsuit…with katana’s behind his back…and guns on his belt… yeah he’s sticking out like a sore ass thumb alright. It’s a miracle that no one even called the cops yet…

Deadpool was quite familiar with Japan himself. After all, he did sumo wrestling once for a living just for kicks… His eyes looked around for the convenience stores of LAWSON and Family Mart, looking to buy some snacks… or just take it off some little kid and run off or something.

[thisismytrueface-blog]

"Rorschach's Journal: Not much has happened today. Muggers abound. Left two of them in dumpster off Urobuchi Street. Becoming irritated with foreign street names. Not many residents speak English well. Have had to learn kanji. At least journal is rendered unreadable. Heading to grocery store. Must remember to keep cooking implements away from Berserker."

With all that written, Rorschach was headed towards the local convenience stores... or, rather, "Dan" was. It paid to have another identity in this place. To be able to communicate silently. Otherwise, other Masters and Servants could take advantage of his identity. Possibly ambush him at his temporary job, or in the cramped apartment the vigilante was forced to call home.

At least as "Dan", he was safe.

As the unmasked vigilante walked towards the stores, hefting his trusted sign on top of his shoulders, he spotted an odd figure. Red bodysuit, covered face... weapons? Not even bothering to hide them. Either he had some strange featesh (fetish? Rorschach had never had a use for that word), or he was a part of the Grail War. Possibly both.

But this wasn't the time to confront him. Just walk past, don't look at him or her, and hope to not be seen...

[sweet-but-sickening-deactivated]

♛ This Displeases The Prince

[sweet-but-sickening-deactivated]

The second there was room, Bel quickly rolled to the side, slowly getting his feet. He stood slightly hunched over, the insane giggles and wide grin coupled with the blood creating a rather macabre look.

He slowly raised trembling hands in front of his face, eyes wide with manic glee as drops of crimson fell from his face onto his palms. His hands went up to grasp his head as he threw his head back as the shrill laugh echoed around the alleyway.

“Ushishishishi~! My royal blood~ It’s flowing out…!”

This truly was the face of madness.

He slowly dropped his hands to his sides limply as his head lolled, staring at the person who done this to him. He made him bleed, spilled his royal blood, causing harm to royalty.

He snapped out of his thoughts as he watched the other get to his feet shakily, prompting the psychotic blonde to pull out two knives, one for each hand. He had a plan, and it would take the others first move to pull it off.

Even so, his giggles didn’t stop, his grin widening further. This man was interesting, and not to mention quite the opponent. He was so much fun for the Prince to toy with.

But like every other toy a royal brat received, he would soon be broken into little pieces, never to be repaired.

[thisismytrueface-blog]

And Rorschach had thought Captain Carnage was bad. This was true mania. Bloodlust. He'd seen expressions like that before. Mostly on the Comedian. But in full, unfettered glory it was like watching a mad dog. And there was only one thing you could do with mad dogs.

Put them down.

Even as the blonde seemed to be losing his mind, if anything the inked vigilante was becoming sharper. He had to keep his wits about him. Crazy people were unpredictable. Difficult to anticipate. Difficult to guard against. So the only thing to do was wait for his actions. Wait for the madness to go... or just get rid of him now. It was the ravings of a lunatic coming out of his mouth. Rorschach waited.

Not long.

From out of his pockets, the prince pulled two knives. As he did so, the inked man saw a flash of red on the back of his right hand. A Master? This one? No... He really would have to kill this prince, then. No murderer was going to get their hands on the Holy Grail. Not if Rorschach had anything to do with it.

But no one was moving. And Rorschach didn't run. Not without a fight. So without hesitation, he took three steps forward before using his right to deliver an uppercut to the prince's chin before jabbing him twice in the chest. If those blows found their mark, they were sure to be quite painful. After all, Rorschach was a trained fighter. He knew what he was doing, and how to do it.

[tamagoyakijou-deactivated201211]

Alas, the way he made it sound was as if he looked down on her.  Though maybe this was how it would be for most Masters and Servants.  Eventually he would look upon her in a better light, or at least she hoped so.

“Oh yes, and I cook as well.” NO NO NO N— “I can cook tamagoyaki, mostly, so I can cook us something to eat once we reach your apartment.  Consider it a gift.”  Well, here’s hoping he had a strong stomach.

[thisismytrueface-blog]

Maybe it would work to their advantage. Maybe not. Either way, if Otae got out of line then he could use one of his four command seals. Four, because Rorschach wasn't that bad of a cook himself.

Starting the journey towards the apartment, with the Berserker hopefully following closely behind him, Rorschach simply nodded. "Fine then. I'll eat your tamago... yamgo... your food." A pause. "Don't know if we have the ingredients, though. What's it made of?"

[osiustimeditabitur]

o finalis destinatio [open]

Even as a mutant, Lucy still needed to satisfy the basic requirements of life. Notably, sleeping and eating. To have survived on her own for this long without having a permanent residence was a matter of the utilization of her abilities. Ever since her childhood, though it sounds unheard of that such a creature would have had a childhood, the mutant had been a drifter, walking from place to place, enduring insult after insult, leaving body after body. And in this city, there would be no exception.

It was but a brief walk through a residential area that would begin this ritual of survival. To see which humans would be so careless as to leave their doors unlocked… She would spare but passing glances. Each building was equally able to house one mutant, at least for a day or two. The only trouble was figuring out which one she would forcibly open the door to.

As luck would have it, a family of four was pulling into a nearby driveway. Typical family, even. A family that seemed so innocent. A family that no one would miss.

As the four civilians departed their car, Lucy began her approach, waiting for any one of the pathetic humans to get into range. One of the children noticed first, but stood in confusion as to why the girl with the pink hair had horns. The second child’s attention was then taken, and she began to alert her father. By that time, their fates had been sealed. The entire family was within striking distance, and knowing humans, one of them must’ve had the key to the house.

Once Lucy’s vectors were unleashed, their deaths were inevitable. The father was first, bisected in front of his family. The vectors sliced easily through his spine and entrails, spewing blood and guts in all directions as his torso and lower body hit two different parts of the ground. Then came the mother, head twisted completely around, and then forcibly removed. She didn’t even have enough time to scream. The two children came next, torn apart completely and without mercy. The limbs of the eldest came first, ripped away with ease, vectors visibly taking its toll on the girl’s sinews. Her fate would come as her mother’s did, head twisted around, neck snapped. Her head, however, would remain on her pathetic body. The demise of the youngest child was swift, a simple, yet forced removal of the heart. Consciousness remained in that inquisitive child’s eyes for but a few more seconds, before those eyes became blank.

When all four had been ended, the vectors began a search for keys. Simply enough, one set would be found within the older woman’s purse, and the other would be in the father’s pocket. With these, Lucy made her way towards the front door of the house, not bothering to conceal the blatant murders in the driveway. Once a key began to fit, the door was swung wide open, allowing her a place to stay until escape was necessary.

Now, there was a mutant in a house she did not belong, and a pile of bodies in a driveway. If the neighbors were smart, they would stay the hell away.

How’s that for a first impression?

[thisismytrueface-blog]

Because of the influx of murderers and criminals that had come with the Holy Grail War, Rorschach had resumed his nightly patrols of the city streets. Some evenings were more successful than others. Some evenings were forgotten by the vigilante, oddly enough. Not listed in his journal. It was very strange. He would have to check on that eventually, but not now.

Right now, he was headed through the suburbs of Fuyuki City. So far, it had been a quiet night. But the inked man was wary. There was no such thing as a quiet night. It just meant that all the criminals were stepping up their game today. And he was soon proven right by the sight before him.

An entire family, bisected while pulling up the driveway. The blood was everywhere. Their organs, their insides... splayed out like some sick decoration. Father, mother, children alike had all been killed. Perhaps a different would now have lost his appetite for anything. Would have thrown up the contents of his stomach in the grass. But not Rorschach. He was too accustomed to sights of horror now. This didn't phase him in the slightest.

Taking out a stub of a pencil and his journal, Rorschach began to pen down his thoughts. "Rorschach's Journal: July 22, 2012. Found family in driveway. Father's entrails litter driveway. Mother's head torn from body. One child no longer has arms; neck was snapped. Other had heart torn out of body. Whatever did this isn't human. Probably Servant. Maybe Berserker. Either way, must be eliminated. Too many murderers. Too many sickos in these streets. Mankind is polluting this world, and these Heroic Spirits are no better than common criminals if they do things like this."

Closing the journal, Rorschach looked back at the bodies one last time before stepping through the open door. If the criminal was here, it would make the inked man's job a lot easier.