Assuming journey possible, tracking him to his lair only option. Still feel uneasy. Unfamiliar territory ... he could kill us both, there in snow nobody would ever know ... first night in November. I am cold tonight.
Officers below, headstones marking daily graves of thousands. Inside, across clock faces, as observed as those of celebrities, hands commence final laps. Oblivion gallops closer, favoring the spur, sparing the rein. I think we will be gone soon.
Vedit is faster than Dreiberg. Perhaps faster than me. Return from mission seems unlikely. This last entry will shortly mail journal to only people can trust. Tell Dreiberg I need to check my maildrop. He believes me. If reading this now, whether I am alive or dead, you will know truth: whatever precise nature of this conspiracy, Adrian Veidt responsible. Have done best to make this legible. Believe it paints disturbing picture.
Appreciate your recent support and hope world survives long enough for this to reach you, but tanks are in East Berlin, and writing is on wall. For my own part. Regret nothing. Have lived life, free from compromise ... and step into the shadow now without complaint.
Rorsach, November 1st, 1985
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