Rorschach's Journal- December 8th, 1977
The filthy degenerates walk on their merry way.
Whores, pedophiles, murderers; they think they deserve a second chance at life. Think a couple years in prison makes up for the things they've done. I must teach them. I must show them the pain they've caused. Justice must be served.
Saw man in alleyway with needle in arm. Asked me for spare change. Too high to notice my face. Kicked him until he was unconscious. Don't like addicts, don't like drugs.
Snow is falling, cold and unforgiving. I will be the same. Man with face tattoos runs brothel in basement, must pay visit. I start my journey, trudging in the snow. Wonder when it will end. Constant depravity from mankind has proven that we've gone spoiled rotten. Only thing that makes sense is justice. Lines sometimes blur.
Time is passing slowly. My footsteps are silent, I have almost made it to Tattoo Man.
I knock on door. Degenerate opens it and asks, "Whaddya want?" I kick door off hinges, punch him in temple as hard as I can. He is filth. I must clean this world. He swings a punch, I duck and shove my fist into his throat. Whores are screaming, running out into cold with only skin to keep them warm. Hope they freeze. Two more men come into basement, hear commotion. "Get that freak!'
Men come towards me. I kick them hard in legs. They topple down side by side. Punch faces in until mush is all I see. Degenerates are faceless. People are not.
Man with tattoos has pissed himself. Filthy, pathetic.
"Hey man, cmon! I'm just trying to survive!" He is screaming, pleading for life. I don't respond. Life is a gift he's taken advantage of. A gift he must lose.
"Survive this!" I scream, punching his face in. His nose breaks, screams eventually turn into gargles and sobs. Arm hurts. Must silence him.
His noises have stopped. Breathing, too.
I have rid this dirty world of another worm. City will sleep a bit more peacefully.
I will not. Walk into snow and continue my footsteps. The night is good to me.