(no subject)
Title: The Roustabout
Author: msavi
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,531
Category: Gen, resurrection!fic
Characters: Walter, Rorschach
Summary: A man wakes up in a hospital, and all he can remember is his first name: Walter.
Warnings: none
This is my first Watchmen fic. Cross-posted a bit.
***
Walter's Journal
September 15th, 1986
I don't know how old I am today. I don't know where I'm from. I don't even know my last name. The cops who found me, passed out in the park, said I had no identification on me. Actually, they said I had nothing on at all. They brought me to the hospital when they couldn't wake me. According to my chart, I spent nine months in a coma. When I finally woke up, I couldn't answer any of their questions.
The doctors keep telling me that my amnesia is likely temporary, but I've been here for eight weeks now and the only thing I've been able to remember is my first name. Walter. Even that seems strange, like it doesn't really belong to me. But it's the only thing I've got.
I can tell I'm wearing out my welcome here. I heard one of the nurses telling another that I make her nervous. I don't know how long people in my situation usually stay, and I don't like the idea of leaving the decision up to them. I've made up my mind that I'm leaving tonight. I don't know where I'm going. All I know is that I can't stay here.
***
Walter's Journal
September 19th, 1986
I'm still keeping an ear open for reports. They might be looking for me, even though the only things I took were clothes from the lost and found. No problems so far. I hitched for a few hours with a trucker headed east. He told me his name, I told him mine. We listened to country music on his radio. He dropped me at a gas station on Rt40.
Then I hitched south on Rt27 with a man named Clem. Clem wouldn't shut up for the entire trip. He talked about his family, his truck, his dog, and his job. He was a mechanic, working mostly with carnival and amusement equipment. He was hauling an old bumper car in the back of his pick-up. He asked me if I'd ever been to the fair. I don't know, so I said no. He gave me a ticket for free admission to the Panhandle South Plains Fair. He left me at a bus stop.
I was hungry. I was lucky to find a tree full of pomegranates in a cemetery. I knew I wouldn't be able to last long this way. I had to find a job. The cemetery was next to a church; I asked the pastor if he knew of anything. He told me the fair was gearing up for its season and I should ask there. Strange coincidence. I'm heading in that direction.
***
Walter's Journal
September 23rd, 1986
I got a job at the fair. I'll be working the Ferris wheel when the season starts, letting people on and off. I've seen Clem a few times, during his maintenance checks. He still won't shut up.
No one says anything, but I can tell that I still make people nervous. I don't talk enough. I don't smile. My accent marks me as an outsider. They look at me with suspicion and dislike. When Mr. Wilkes, the boss, gave me the key to my trailer, he said, 'no funny business with fair property,' like he expects me to trash the place. As if the place weren't already a dump.
Most of the other workers are local, so the other trailers around mine are unoccupied. I like the quiet. Susan, the girl who spins cotton candy at the food booth, warned me that it won't last long. Once the season starts, there will always be some kind of music blaring loud enough to be heard for miles. Until then, I will enjoy the quiet.
***
Walter's Journal
September 26th, 1986
The quiet has disappeared, buried under layers of noise that cannot be identified as any single style of music. The grounds are always crawling with people. Screaming children, teenage vandals, drunk cowboys shouting obscenities at strangers. I hate this place.
I heard names today, names that sounded familiar. A couple waiting for their turn on the Ferris wheel were arguing. The woman was talking about someone named Veidt - perhaps the same Veidt as the company? She said she could believe Veidt had done something evil because absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Her date disagreed. The last thing he said was, 'That Rorschach guy was a nutcase, anyway.' I got a strange feeling when he said that name: Rorschach. Perhaps I knew him. Was he a friend? An enemy? Frustrating not to remember. I will ask Susan about Veidt and Rorschach. She will tell me the truth, without talking too much like Clem.
***
Walter's Journal
September 27th, 1986
Talk with Susan was illuminating. There is a rumor that Adrian Veidt, formerly masked hero called Ozymandias, is behind the attack on New York. No one wants to believe it because Veidt is a wealthy, powerful man. Gives money to charities. Erected a multi-million dollar memorial. Is a pacifist.
The rumor comes from a paper called the New Frontiersman. They claim to have the journal of Rorschach, a masked vigilante. Other papers and news reporters say the New Frontiersman is little better than a tabloid; pushing lies and libel to sell papers. Also say Rorschach was a paranoid sociopath.
I'm not sure what to believe. Veidt has enough money to buy any reporter. What could he hold over Dr. Manhattan? The indestructible man said Rorschach was mistaken. Said he had to kill Rorschach to prevent Veidt's murder. Now Dr. Manhattan is gone, and the other costumed heroes are all dead, retired, or likely in hiding.
I have to know more about Rorschach. Susan says he was sent to prison - there must be records. She says he probably was crazy, that all of the vigilantes were crazy in some way. Asked her if that included Veidt. She thought about it. Said yes.
I will try to find out more as soon as possible.
***
Walter's Journal
September 28th, 1986
Did not have time to investigate today. Fair is in full swing. Spent the day ferrying horny teenagers on and off of the Ferris wheel, using their pause at the peak to grope each other and leave bite marks on necks.
Susan came to my trailer again. I asked her what she wanted. She looked surprised. She asked me how I was doing. I said fine. Stood there for a few seconds. Then she said goodbye and left. Felt strange when she left. Like I'd forgotten something.
Had a disturbing dream last night. Can't remember all of it. There was a dead dog with blood on its fur, and the sound of a man screaming in pain. A woman in her underwear laughing at me. A large bird watching me drown in cold water. Is it just a dream, or a memory? If a memory, do I really want to remember?
***
Walter's Journal
September 29th, 1986
Still no time for real digging on Rorschach, but asked other workers at the fair. Most think he was insane - are glad he is dead. Some don't trust Veidt, in spite of his good deeds and charities. They say he's the smartest man alive. They don't trust smart people here.
Asked Clem to cover for me tomorrow - will go to the library to see what I can find there. Not sure what to expect, but feels like I am on the verge of something important. Good or bad, it is better to know. They say ignorance is bliss. For me, it is agony.
Susan came again tonight. She brought me leftovers from the food booth. We ate burnt franks and stale french fries. She asked me questions I couldn't answer - where I am from, my family. Was honest; told her that I can't remember. She kissed me. Felt good, then claustrophobic. Couldn't breathe, started to panic. She asked me what was wrong, another question I couldn't answer. Said nothing, said thanks for the food, pushed her out of the trailer. Will avoid in future.
***
September 30th, 1986
Went to library. Saw an article about Rorschach. Had two pictures. One was Rorschach's face. Other was Walter's.
Rorschach isn't dead. He's me.
***
Rorschach's Journal
October 1st, 1986
Went to library again. Read last interview with Dr. Manhattan before he left. Read Veidt's account. Read lots of articles about the New Frontiersman rumor.
Memories came back in a flood yesterday - flying with Daniel to Antarctica, fighting Veidt, waiting for Jon to kill me. Older memories coming back in flashes. Saw a woman who reminded me of landlady in New York. Must be dead now, and her kids. Thought of Blair Roche. Thought of mother.
So many wrongs to put right. So many to punish.
Don't know why Jon left me alive. Perhaps unintentional? Unlikely. Must travel to New York, find spare face, contact Daniel and Miss Jupiter. Will work quietly - form plan to deal with Veidt. The truth is already out. Must help it blot out the lies that obscure the world's vision. Nothing is more important than the truth. Nothing more sacred. Rorschach, October first.
Author: msavi
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1,531
Category: Gen, resurrection!fic
Characters: Walter, Rorschach
Summary: A man wakes up in a hospital, and all he can remember is his first name: Walter.
Warnings: none
This is my first Watchmen fic. Cross-posted a bit.
***
Walter's Journal
September 15th, 1986
I don't know how old I am today. I don't know where I'm from. I don't even know my last name. The cops who found me, passed out in the park, said I had no identification on me. Actually, they said I had nothing on at all. They brought me to the hospital when they couldn't wake me. According to my chart, I spent nine months in a coma. When I finally woke up, I couldn't answer any of their questions.
The doctors keep telling me that my amnesia is likely temporary, but I've been here for eight weeks now and the only thing I've been able to remember is my first name. Walter. Even that seems strange, like it doesn't really belong to me. But it's the only thing I've got.
I can tell I'm wearing out my welcome here. I heard one of the nurses telling another that I make her nervous. I don't know how long people in my situation usually stay, and I don't like the idea of leaving the decision up to them. I've made up my mind that I'm leaving tonight. I don't know where I'm going. All I know is that I can't stay here.
***
Walter's Journal
September 19th, 1986
I'm still keeping an ear open for reports. They might be looking for me, even though the only things I took were clothes from the lost and found. No problems so far. I hitched for a few hours with a trucker headed east. He told me his name, I told him mine. We listened to country music on his radio. He dropped me at a gas station on Rt40.
Then I hitched south on Rt27 with a man named Clem. Clem wouldn't shut up for the entire trip. He talked about his family, his truck, his dog, and his job. He was a mechanic, working mostly with carnival and amusement equipment. He was hauling an old bumper car in the back of his pick-up. He asked me if I'd ever been to the fair. I don't know, so I said no. He gave me a ticket for free admission to the Panhandle South Plains Fair. He left me at a bus stop.
I was hungry. I was lucky to find a tree full of pomegranates in a cemetery. I knew I wouldn't be able to last long this way. I had to find a job. The cemetery was next to a church; I asked the pastor if he knew of anything. He told me the fair was gearing up for its season and I should ask there. Strange coincidence. I'm heading in that direction.
***
Walter's Journal
September 23rd, 1986
I got a job at the fair. I'll be working the Ferris wheel when the season starts, letting people on and off. I've seen Clem a few times, during his maintenance checks. He still won't shut up.
No one says anything, but I can tell that I still make people nervous. I don't talk enough. I don't smile. My accent marks me as an outsider. They look at me with suspicion and dislike. When Mr. Wilkes, the boss, gave me the key to my trailer, he said, 'no funny business with fair property,' like he expects me to trash the place. As if the place weren't already a dump.
Most of the other workers are local, so the other trailers around mine are unoccupied. I like the quiet. Susan, the girl who spins cotton candy at the food booth, warned me that it won't last long. Once the season starts, there will always be some kind of music blaring loud enough to be heard for miles. Until then, I will enjoy the quiet.
***
Walter's Journal
September 26th, 1986
The quiet has disappeared, buried under layers of noise that cannot be identified as any single style of music. The grounds are always crawling with people. Screaming children, teenage vandals, drunk cowboys shouting obscenities at strangers. I hate this place.
I heard names today, names that sounded familiar. A couple waiting for their turn on the Ferris wheel were arguing. The woman was talking about someone named Veidt - perhaps the same Veidt as the company? She said she could believe Veidt had done something evil because absolute power corrupts absolutely.
Her date disagreed. The last thing he said was, 'That Rorschach guy was a nutcase, anyway.' I got a strange feeling when he said that name: Rorschach. Perhaps I knew him. Was he a friend? An enemy? Frustrating not to remember. I will ask Susan about Veidt and Rorschach. She will tell me the truth, without talking too much like Clem.
***
Walter's Journal
September 27th, 1986
Talk with Susan was illuminating. There is a rumor that Adrian Veidt, formerly masked hero called Ozymandias, is behind the attack on New York. No one wants to believe it because Veidt is a wealthy, powerful man. Gives money to charities. Erected a multi-million dollar memorial. Is a pacifist.
The rumor comes from a paper called the New Frontiersman. They claim to have the journal of Rorschach, a masked vigilante. Other papers and news reporters say the New Frontiersman is little better than a tabloid; pushing lies and libel to sell papers. Also say Rorschach was a paranoid sociopath.
I'm not sure what to believe. Veidt has enough money to buy any reporter. What could he hold over Dr. Manhattan? The indestructible man said Rorschach was mistaken. Said he had to kill Rorschach to prevent Veidt's murder. Now Dr. Manhattan is gone, and the other costumed heroes are all dead, retired, or likely in hiding.
I have to know more about Rorschach. Susan says he was sent to prison - there must be records. She says he probably was crazy, that all of the vigilantes were crazy in some way. Asked her if that included Veidt. She thought about it. Said yes.
I will try to find out more as soon as possible.
***
Walter's Journal
September 28th, 1986
Did not have time to investigate today. Fair is in full swing. Spent the day ferrying horny teenagers on and off of the Ferris wheel, using their pause at the peak to grope each other and leave bite marks on necks.
Susan came to my trailer again. I asked her what she wanted. She looked surprised. She asked me how I was doing. I said fine. Stood there for a few seconds. Then she said goodbye and left. Felt strange when she left. Like I'd forgotten something.
Had a disturbing dream last night. Can't remember all of it. There was a dead dog with blood on its fur, and the sound of a man screaming in pain. A woman in her underwear laughing at me. A large bird watching me drown in cold water. Is it just a dream, or a memory? If a memory, do I really want to remember?
***
Walter's Journal
September 29th, 1986
Still no time for real digging on Rorschach, but asked other workers at the fair. Most think he was insane - are glad he is dead. Some don't trust Veidt, in spite of his good deeds and charities. They say he's the smartest man alive. They don't trust smart people here.
Asked Clem to cover for me tomorrow - will go to the library to see what I can find there. Not sure what to expect, but feels like I am on the verge of something important. Good or bad, it is better to know. They say ignorance is bliss. For me, it is agony.
Susan came again tonight. She brought me leftovers from the food booth. We ate burnt franks and stale french fries. She asked me questions I couldn't answer - where I am from, my family. Was honest; told her that I can't remember. She kissed me. Felt good, then claustrophobic. Couldn't breathe, started to panic. She asked me what was wrong, another question I couldn't answer. Said nothing, said thanks for the food, pushed her out of the trailer. Will avoid in future.
***
September 30th, 1986
Went to library. Saw an article about Rorschach. Had two pictures. One was Rorschach's face. Other was Walter's.
Rorschach isn't dead. He's me.
***
Rorschach's Journal
October 1st, 1986
Went to library again. Read last interview with Dr. Manhattan before he left. Read Veidt's account. Read lots of articles about the New Frontiersman rumor.
Memories came back in a flood yesterday - flying with Daniel to Antarctica, fighting Veidt, waiting for Jon to kill me. Older memories coming back in flashes. Saw a woman who reminded me of landlady in New York. Must be dead now, and her kids. Thought of Blair Roche. Thought of mother.
So many wrongs to put right. So many to punish.
Don't know why Jon left me alive. Perhaps unintentional? Unlikely. Must travel to New York, find spare face, contact Daniel and Miss Jupiter. Will work quietly - form plan to deal with Veidt. The truth is already out. Must help it blot out the lies that obscure the world's vision. Nothing is more important than the truth. Nothing more sacred. Rorschach, October first.