Rorscharch's Journal. October 12th, 1985. Dog carcass in alley today. Tire tread on burst stomach. This city's afraid of me, I've seen its true face. The streets are extended gutters and the gutters are filled with blood. And when the drains finally scab over, all the vermin will drown. The accumulated filth of all their sex and murder will foam up to their waists, and all the whores and politicians will look up and shout "save us!" and I'll whisper "no!"