Re: [Hamartia]
It had been a late night. Rorschach returned to the Hamartia as day was breaking, holding a bundle of brown jacket, black and white mask, brown fedora, gloves, and slipshod grappling gun under his left arm. It looked like he had wadded up his gym clothes and held them against his side, especially with the way his hair - still in need of a cut - slicked to his forehead.
He squinted warily as the flashing lights and crowd loomed ahead. He could see a number of people standing in their pajamas, gasping in horror at some sight before the apartment complex. Scratching at the thicket of stubble that had overgrown his jaw, Rorschach approached warily, holding his bundle of clothing tightly. Nobody noticed the man with the crooked nose and too-small clothing as he stalked towards the front of the crowd. A few backed away at the smell of stagnant sweat, but nobody bothered to catch a look at his face. He was inconsequential, and probably homeless. Homeless people were invisible.
Pushing past a slight girl in pajamas, Rorschach broke the front of the crowd and stared, mouth slightly agape, at the young girls. His fingers clenched in the bundle he held, the muscles of his arms tensing suddenly. The notes pinned to the girls' shirts didn't go unnoticed. This was a challenge.