Post by Rorschach on Mar 24, 2009 3:18:39 GMT -5
It’s impossible to correctly label the feeling one has at suddenly waking to an alien word. There are too many feelings to consider for it to be narrowed down to a mere one. The process almost certainly starts with the groggy uncertainty—the feeling of a weight on one’s chest, that states clearer than any words ever could, something isn’t quite right. Then, of course, comes the actual fear upon inspecting one's surroundings. There is a sudden realization that the objects around you are foreign to your understanding, and certainly aren’t anything you’re familiar with. Though the fear doesn’t subside until the situation is corrected, next an overwhelming slew of questions begin to sprout within the now restless, curious mind. Where are you? How did you get here? Was this planned by someone else?[/color]
Perhaps if he had woken in a closed room with its doors and windows nailed shut, these questions would’ve been easily answered for Rorschach. After all, the last thing he remembered was fighting a group of thugs before blacking out. Had he been in a locked room, he could’ve assumed that he’d been hit over the head, knocked out, and taken for ransom. As things were, this possibility was quickly ruled out. Not only was his head in perfect condition, but he also wasn’t in a room. In fact, as Rorschach opened his eyes behind his mask, he realized that he’d woken up to streamlets of brilliant light pouring through a canopy of leafy trees.
Sweat had begun to mat his brow and, as he sat up, he realized that he was sitting in the densely vegetated ground of what he could only describe as what seemed like jungle terrain.
The man looked around, hoping to gain some sort of intellect by inspecting his surroundings. Well versed in geology, he had perhaps naively thought that he could pin-point where he might be in the globe. He couldn’t settle on any certain location. The strange, vegetation didn’t seem the type to go together, and many things were completely unrecognizable to him.
As his senses slowly began to return to him, the uncomfortable heat began to prickle at his skin. He knew that he probably already smelled of blood (whether it was his or not was impossible to say, now) and dirt, he didn’t want to add sweat to the list. Even an inexperienced hunter could find him with ease in his current state of being. This was something that would not be easily changed. He hadn’t the slightest idea how close, or even if there was, a source of water nearby. This also brought up the question of what he was going to do for food, quickly followed by the thought of shelter.
A deeply rooted part of him wanted to panic, but none of that submerged self came to surface. No, rather than hyperventilate and run into the shadows to hide, Rorschach calmly stood up and surveyed his surroundings.
“Hurm…”
Came a mutter through his parched, chapped lips. He had only been to such a humid place once in his life, when on a mission that had taken him to Mexico. Rorschach had almost always been callous and impervious to changes in element. No one could be sure if this was a result of his high pain tolerance or that he could blank out most sensations. However, now, and even then, he felt uncomfortable in the stifling heat. It wasn’t the same as the cold—something easily ignored.
As he was, he would’ve liked nothing more than to take his overcoat and perhaps scarf off. He knew that was impossible—not only was he in an open, foreign setting, but he was also likely there for a reason. Perhaps Dr. Manhattan had transported him to some area out of necessity? If this was the case, then keeping in costume was the wise, if not necessary, choice.
The sound of stray footsteps perturbed Rorschach’s silent analysis of the landscape. The masked man may have been lost and confused, but he wasn’t about to let himself fall into someone else’s hands. With lightening quick reflexes, he reached inside his coat. There, his purple-gloved hand found what it had wanted. Another flick of the wrist pulled his gas-powered grappling gun out of the coat and, with a careful aim, shot the hook into the high branches of a nearby tree. The barbs caught on the branch, and he quickly ascended its length.
There, he stayed absolutely motionless, his calculating eyes scanning the visible ground through the canopy beneath him. He wasn’t fool enough to try and blend in with the tree, and trying so would only rattle the branches he sat on. He only hoped that whoever, or whatever, it was, wasn’t keeping a sharp eye on the sky-line. He had no ready explanation for why he would be here, potentially trespassing.
His head swiveled on his neck, straining to quietly find anything around that he could use as a weapon. This place…wherever it was…certainly wasn’t New York, where a trip down an alleyway would yield some type of improvised weapon. Here, only braches and twigs rested. In fact, the only solace he had while crouched in the tree like a scared animal, was the brim of his hat protecting his eyes from the retina-scarring rays of the sun.
One thing he did discover, while in the tree, was an area a considerably short distance away. It held a mark contrast to the forest around. Rorschach could hardly believe his own eyes at what befell them. What he had assumed would be a complete, surrounding forest, was not such. Just past a waterfall a few yards from him (how had he not earlier heard the sound of roaring waters, he wondered?), there seemed to lie a structure of some sort. He couldn’t see it perfectly through both the multitude of branches and leaves and the slightly obscuring fibers of his mask, but he knew it had to be man-made.
His attention was swiftly pulled away once again by the shuffling of brush. His eyes immediately focused on the disturbed brush, catching the shaking of its brambles. When the person, if Rorschach could even call it that, came into sight, Rorschach suddenly began to wonder if he was either asleep, or had been drugged in his sleep to see hallucinations. To be frank, what he saw, he could only describe as a monster. It didn’t scare him, per say, but it was enough to keep him in the tree to continue to observe. Besides, he always found that he was at his best when he’d observed a situation before simply jumping in; and if he could avoid a fight in this strange new land, he would.
The creature paused for a moment to inspect the ground. The pace of Rorschach’s heart-rate increased. The creature…who Rorschach perceived now to be a male, was standing in the place he previously had been. Not the prickle of foreboding, but the release of adrenalin-causing endorphins rushed through his body. If there was going to be a fight, he would make sure he was prepared for it.
Fortunately or unfortunately, one couldn’t say in Rorschach’s warped perception, the creature left, dejected at his failure. Rorschach crouched in the tree a moment longer, his parasympathetic nervous system calming down the heightened state his body was in. When he felt the threat of danger was gone, he lithely scaled down the tree, his feet landing on the soft dirt ground without a sound, and began making his way towards the structure. From what he had seen and had in general knowledge, he was going to stand out like a sore thumb here. If not for his obscure clothing, which included purple pinstriped pants along with a full-face mask, among other oddities, than his way of speaking in truncated sentences would certainly give him away. If, he thought, the inhabitants of this area even spoke English, which was beginning to seem more and more unlikely with each passing moment.
He passed first through the remaining jungle and then the waterfall, his gloved hands wedged into his pockets. His nonchalant appearance was hardly even a cover. Rorschach knew that if there was a way out of this situation, he would find it. And he’d already seen an abundant food and water supply, so the fear of death was nearly nonexistent. All the situation presented him with was a strange type of excitement—much like a child feels when embarking on a scavenger hunt; he knows that there are clues and reasons to be had, and will no doubt find them.
He approached the structure he’d seen from a far, surprised to find that they were quite clearly a congregation of ruins. That put a damper on his sleuthing plans. No one else seemed to be in sight, either, which meant that he’d walked into a stalemate.
With a few extra steps, Rorschach made his way to a crumbled bit of wall, and sat on the largest chunk he could find.
Once seated, he loosened the mottled strings that kept his trench-coat taut around his torso area. After unbuttoning the top two buttons of the garment, and yet another button within the confines of the jacket, Rorschach pulled forth a thick, tattered notebook and a pencil.
He managed to situate himself more comfortably on the bumpy rock and, after a moment to think, began writing.
((ooc;
My goodness. I’m sorry for the frightening length, I promise that not all of my responses will be this long!))
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