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Found shelter last night in the forest. Cave was occupied at the time by strange creature with head of chicken and body of a lizard or snake. It glared at me intensely as if to scare me, was ineffective, creature could not find my eyes behind my face. Had thought to kill it for dinner, but did not want to risk poisoning myself- best not to eat strange creatures without previous knowledge. Gave it swift kick, went airborne, struck nearby tree, then fled. Cave smells of dung and mold, just like home.
Found water supply nearby. River with dirty water. Plan to make makeshift filter out of sand, charcoal, and heat. River will provide fish as well, will need to figure out how to fish. Need to venture out today to find other supplies for survival, things that will not be found in forest. I will go into Ponyville, but plan to continue to be discreet. As far as I know I am the only human here, I have yet to see any signs that say otherwise. Do not need to shock populace and attracted unneeded attention by walking blatantly around. Will hide until way is found to get back to New York, hopefully not long, pony’s bright colors hurt my eyes…
Have always hid in plain sight. Walking the putrid streets during day with sign posing the end was nigh, I was right though in that end it seemed. As bum, people saw through Walter Kovacs and paid his sign and his passing no heed. Hiding in plain sight would not work here. Will need to work like yesterday, hiding behind buildings and making use of rooftops, will need to avoid ones made of thatch. Wish I had grappling hook but seems unnecessary as rustic buildings were easy enough to scale.
My first goal remained the same, must find supplies necessary for own survival in forest. Refuse to be anywhere near this town, forest was best option to stay in. Living in the city on little means has taught me where to best search when one needed things. I rummaged in junk, trash, and debris in hopes of finding what was needed.
Same as my world, plenty of useable things in otherwise useless trash and vermin. Found bucket, still useable, will make good case for filter. Papers and old blankets found as well, will make makeshift bedding for shelter. Few old candles found as well, day proved promising so far.
With discarded treasure in hand I returned to my shelter. Cleaned out smell of bird with bucket and water as best I could but only could do so much, perhaps should have found soap as well to bring back. No matter, will be going back into town anyway. Further observation was needed on these ponyfolk as they had taken to calling themselves, alien and strange I call them…
Discovered today that magic does exist, at least in this world. I observed a unicorn levitating objects in the air with use of her horn, the pony (must find way to identify sexes, too confusing judging from marks on flank and color) I observed was purple with a dark purple mane with streaks of pink, unknown if dyed or natural. Long since gotten over fact these creatures could talk, even more so that they speak English, yet I find myself still shocked by them. The pony had been carrying at least four books, each one floating in air and lightly glowing the same color as her eyes. The place I had seen her leave from was even stranger compared to the rest of the town. It was a living tree but hollowed out as a home. By now surprises were becoming dull, she was a pony that lived in a hollow still living and tree and I was a vigilante trapped in world of fluff and butterflies while living in musty cave.
Peeking into her home’s window though I found a very promising lead. It appeared she lived in and operated a library, countless books lined the shelves and every open space either had a book or parchment upon it. It was a gold mine of information and perhaps a way out of this place, if this pony was a practitioner of so called magic then she might have something that explains a way of teleporting to different worlds or times. A long shot, I’ve done better with less.
For now though the day was still early, too many ponies around that could spot me performing what would seem like larceny. I will have to wait until night falls and things were clear. While waiting I did not plan to be idle in the least. In my journal I made a makeshift map of locations that formed the town. I marked the tree library with an X to show its importance to myself. Planned to search out other locations of interest.
I wandered the town, with patience and my own instincts helping to keep my form hidden from anyone. Nearly noticed once by pink pony but managed to slip away before anything happened, strange she knew where I was exactly before I was even there myself. Will have to watch her. By evening I had marked several more locations. Sugarcube Corner, a bakery owned by pony couple (and adopted the pink pony from before?) in the shape of a gingerbread house. Town Hall, had pleasant look while still base of government, seems to lack the corruption of my own- likely still as useless. Sweet Apple Acres, a trek outside of town with fields of apples around classic red barn with white picket fence. I climbed several trees for apples, took only what I needed and made sure their taking wasn’t obvious. Final place was boutique, knew before I even looked inside. Reminded me of my time making fabric in menial job, back when Walter Kovacs existed and Rorschach did not. Night has nearly fallen; I went back to the tree library and wait. I felt sure that the answers I sought were somewhere inside.
Rorschach's Journal. End of Day 2 entry
Pony refuses to sleep. I feel agitated watching her write at her desk, she has been like this for hours. She was an avid reader apparently as well as a celebrated note taker. Judged that she was an intellectual of some kind, nobody read without reason. Moon was high in the sky by the time she went to sleep, was glad to finally get chance. Something about the moon bothered me, it looked the same as back on Earth but it felt as though the moon was watching my every move. Paranoia perhaps, did not matter. I waited another hour to be sure she was asleep before I approached the tree library.
Most often I would just break the lock to get in but this was not a usual case, after all someone still slept inside. I scaled one of the tree’s branches to a window on the second floor. Only partially surprised to find it unlocked. I slipped in easily and scanned the interior of the tree. It was cozy to say the least, with books lining all the walls just as I remembered. Wish I had flashlight, candlelight will have to do. I look to my right and see that I had entered a window right next to her bed, she did not stir from her pleasant slumber. Something about the happy smile on her lips irked me but I do not know why. I prepared to move but stopped when I heard snoring from nearby, not from the pony.
In a basket at the foot of the bed slept a purple and green lizard. Guard pet perhaps? No, more like personal pet. Did not look vicious, was just glad it was not rabid guard dog. I continue downstairs to the main library. The same candle that the pony had studied by remained at the desk. I lit it with some flint I found nearby and with the flame cupped around my hand so it would not shine up to the second floor I investigated the books.
This pony was well read, just as I assumed. I found books on every topic that could be imagined. From recipes to maps to fiction, it seemed to cover everything. One title in particular caught my attention: The History of Equestria. I carefully removed it from its place and took it to the desk. Setting the candle down I read carefully from the passages, only stopping to make sure the pair upstairs remained asleep. From that book alone I learned most of what I needed to know. Apparently I was in a world, or country, the book was vague in that regard, called Equestria. Began much like barbaric humans did with nomadic tribes coming together to form cities to protect large stretches of land. Ruled like a kingdom by two princesses, little mention of king or queen. Apparently these two princesses, one of sun and one of night, rose their respective times each day. Seemed they were revered highly but not worshipped. Tradition or propaganda perhaps? Seemed unlikely they truly rose sun and moon.
I flipped randomly through the pages, from the original tribes of ponies, unicorns, and pegasi to geography. Was surprised to see familiar cities. It was like some children’s author came in and replaced the names of cities with puns: Fillydelphia, Manehattan, Trottingham? How similar were these cities to my own? Were they crime-ridden, or pockets of sinful prostration, drowning in their own misery? Gut instinct told me no. A thought came to me then; there was no Cold War, no Red Menace from across the sea, and there was no looming threat of nuclear destruction. Not sure I could think of any other kind of life other than the god-forsaken muck of pestilence that was Manhattan. There was always some war going on one time or another, always the growing threat of just one day turning into a pile of radioactive ash. Was surreal to think otherwise.
I placed the book down and return it to its place on the shelf, there was no dust on the shelf to match to as I commonly did; it seemed the pony kept her books as clean and clear as possible. Perhaps Obsessive Compulsive, would have need to not only read but keep things of affection in clean order. My hand brushes the spines of the books in search of something of interest. It finally rests upon one book entitled: Equestrian Laws and Crimes. Perhaps I did have a purpose here after all?
Took the book back to the desk and immediately began to read, attempting my best to ignore the snores of the sleeping lizard upstairs. The first few chapters detailed the complexities of Equestrian law, practice and standards, duties of police, sheriff, and guard ponies, and finally a listing of crimes. Felt satisfaction creep over, to know there was one thing here I was familiar with. Dispensing justice to the filth that infested the streets of good people, or perhaps in this case ponies.
My gut began to sink when I reached the second half of the book, the author had made sure to point out how low crime was in Equestria. Even had diagrams, at first they looked blank until I noticed the slivers of red bars that made up the amount of crime in a span of centuries. Centuries. That word stuck in to me most of all. I had read in the first book this place had a long history, mainly of peace and… harmony. I had not thought that it was a society devoid of crime. I am momentarily reminded of book I once read: Thomas Moore’s Utopia, good ideal but terrible book. Was this Equestria a utopia of sorts? A perfect society without fear of crime or war, the ailments of man. It had to be an irony of sorts, to find a Utopia, and it included no humans.
I sat there for a long time, even after the candle had gone out. I felt lost again as to what my purpose was, or rather why Dr. Manhattan had brought me here. Slowly I stand up and replace book, I did not need to see fully to remember where the book’s empty spot was. I continued my browsing until I found what I was looking for on the other side of the library: Teleportations: Its Mechanics and Dimensional Relevance, A Beginner’s Guide. Perfect.
Went to the desk and prepared to relight the candle when I noticed another light had appeared. My hand froze and I looked up but found the mare was still fast asleep. Only when I looked to the window did I see it was the first rays of the sun. I had lost track of the time, read too much. Morning, meant awake ponies, need to get away. Will take book, bring it back when done. Taking the good size tome I shoved it into the pocket of my trench coat. I made my way back upstairs to the window but a stirring of covers made me stop and turn around. Did not rush, would make too much noise. I slipped out the front door, noted the single lock and how easily it could be broken. Door was still unlocked but better than risking second floor open window. Would be faster to get out of town this way as well.
It was late morning and I found myself still free of fatigue, wasn’t sure how long that would last after a full night of investigation. I sat down on a rock just on the edge of the forest behind some buildings. It was secluded enough and I wanted to be quick to bring the book back, was not thief of property, wouldn’t become one. For a beginner’s guide the text seemed advanced. Didn’t understand most, had Equestrian words I did not understand, magical terms with foreign meanings. It seemed to cover the essentials of teleportation. To my surprise I found that unicorns could teleport themselves, I had suspected that by teleportation it would mean small things such as fruit or other inanimate objects. To my knowledge only Dr. Manhattan could ever teleport anything and at one time he had mentioned the difficulties he first had in moving himself from one place to another.
I keep reading what I could, abstract diagrams of ponies bodies and equations of energy meant little to me. I merely searched for some way I could be brought back to my own time and place. Anything else was tertiary or irrelevant. Then I reached a clause that stopped me. I had been on a section of theoretical long distance teleportation when I saw its first, most important words:
Unicorns have in the past strived to unearth the possibility of traveling between the sinews of time and space, later on other ponies hoped to use the same style in order to pass through theoretical barriers to reach other alternate dimensions. In both cases of either time travel or trans-dimensional teleportation, ponies found the magic too unstable. Test items, for this book we look to Dr. Heidenhoof and Dr. Von Snouten’s apples experiment example, had less than promising results. Attempts to use vast amounts of magical energy and correct combination of time affecting spells on apples in order to achieve time travel simply caused the fruit to implode. In trans-dimensional experiments the results were unpredictable. Most often the apples would either explode, combust, or implode the moment an attempted teleportation was made (note that Dr. Neigh’s formerly famous experiment in which an apple turned into an orange was recently discovered to be fraud). On the several occasions the apple did teleport and return it could not be told if they ever went anywhere. Before any testing could be made on these traveled apples their matter became unstable and the specimens turned to carbon fallout, scientists theorized that the apples were able to partially make it through to another dimension but bounced back where its matter became unstable and fell apart. Since then it has been concluded that time traveling and trans-dimensional is impossible but gave rise to a new theory that has become accepted. Dr. Von Snouten and Dr. Heidenhoof after decades of study both came up with the conclusion that matter could not be taken from one dimensional location to another. They guessed that in order for an object to travel between dimensions it must be completely and utterly destroyed in one dimension before it can be reformed in another, a paradox of sorts they concluded as it would be impossible to destroy matter and send this destroyed matter to another place…
The word impossible sunk into my mind. My hands harshly gripped the book as I kept reading the passage over and over yet the words remained the same. It made sense to me now. I was not sent away from Earth, I was not sent away by Dr. Manhattan.
I was dead.
The heat in my gut, I knew now what it was. Dr. Manhattan had not sent me away; he had killed me there in that tundra. No, he did not kill me, he obliterated my very existence and tossed me into another dimension like trash. Did he intend to send me to this fluffy, cute little slice of my personal hell? Was this some joke to him?! I began to hyperventilate, my throat growled through my face as I seethed. Was this some sick sense of mercy?! The indestructible man couldn’t kill me because he had too much of a fake conscious?! Didn’t want to kill me so he sent me to some world without crime and expects me to find a new purpose when the filth and miasma of human depravity crawled in their gutters still and that hell ridden Veidt lives still with his lies in hopes to get some satisfaction of thinking he can play God with people’s lives and expect them to thank him?!
I tossed the book out of my hand and stood up. My hands clenched into fists, knuckles so white they looked dead underneath my gloves. Finally I screamed, like an enraged animal in pain I vented my rage. I vehemently roared to the sky, “Manhattan!” as if expecting him to answer me. I found I had wandered to a tree at the edge of the forest and in my rage I began to punch the trunk. Bark chipped and shattered away at my ferocity. As I smashed into that tree I could see their faces. Dr. Manhattan. Adrian Veidt. Big Figure. A dead dog. The child murderer Grice. My mother. I saw them all as the tree heavily dented under my rage. My hands became swollen underneath my gloves, too swollen to form a proper fist, as I continued to shout and fume in my rage. I took the gloves off and continued to punch that tree. Pain refused to blot out my rage as I continued to deliver haymaker after haymaker against that tree. By the time I had stopped there was a mass of blood where my hand had struck. My hands themselves were mangled, fresh blood dripped to my forefingers, warm and sticky. The pain didn’t bother me, I could only seethe in my miserable anger over all of this.
The sound of rushing steps came around the building behind me. A girl (no older than Blair Roche perhaps I thought in suffering) called out, “I heard it over here! Come on!” Several sets of hoofprints rushed around the corner, another voice, a girl too, replied, “Applebloom hold up we-“
The white one stopped talking and all three them looked up in shock to see me, besides the white one there was one with a yellow coat and red mane, the other a purple mane with a bright orange coat. A terrible sight I must have been. Over three or four times as tall as them. Breathing heavy and loudly. I could see my own face, how the black blots that made my expression looked like a scatter of bludgeoned black blood. My hands dripped red with my own human blood. I turned fully to face them, they eyed the bloody tree and then quickly back to me.
My heart thumped in my chest with a rage that filled my mind. I could only feel hatred for everything that has happened; I transfused that hatred onto them. They shied away in terror as I took a step forward. My breathing was ragged and mangled, the growl in my throat still there. For a child I must have looked like a monster, but was that all I really was to one?
“Well? What are you waiting for,” I asked harshly, they shrunk again as if they’d been struck. I felt no pity, only my rage as I looked at them with the same fury I gave to the bloodied tree, “Run!” I said but they did not move, only whimpered in silent terror. “Go! Flee!” I took another menacing step towards them and screamed, “Get. Away. From me!”
They cried out in shrill terror, the spell of fear broke and their petrified bodies moved into action. They disappeared around the building again. I stood there, boiling in my anger and hate. They deserved it I thought, they should be afraid. All guilty, all of them are guilty. They all deserve to die. I deserve to die. I should have died.
I should be dead.
Chapter 3 Preview: Rorschach finds he is the one being stalked, and his stalker happens to be a certain Pink Pony....