Damn Lasombra

So Johnny aint' said nothing about this yet. But it's seriously fucked up shit.

Okay. So at the rant a few weeks back, at the beginning of December, some Camarilla types show up. This Assamite dude named Rudy and some "antitribu" Lasombra named Elliot. Still not sure what "antitribu" means, but it most mean something like "not like the rest of the clan" or something. In this case, it meant a Lasombra loyal to the Camarilla. Well, he decides to go Sabbat hunting. With the Assamite. A few of our friends decide to meet up with them, including Lauren, Brer Bear, and Joe Barclay. Oh, and a Nosferatu named "They." Weird fucker, that one.

Problem? The Lasombra, Elliot, never shows up back at home.

No one seems to know what's up with Rudy, who supposedly last saw the dude alive. Something about being attacked, maybe by Gangrel.

Bear and Lauren were kicked out of Gangrel turf. Barclay says he never met up with Elliot or Rudy.

Rooster, the number two Gangrel in Irvine, won't fuckin' talk. Keller, the number one, hasn't said a word about it. Barclay is gettin' all defensive.

Worst of all? Elliot's clan is howling for someone's blood.

So how did Johnny get involved in this mess? Johnny asked fellow Brujah if there was such a thing as Camarilla Lasombra. Turns out to be true. But one, who is a friend of a powerful Cam Lasombra, decides to dig deeper. Finds out that Elliot is missing. Tells Johnny, tells his friend Urial Ligatio. Who is apparently a big fucking Lasombra the entire rest of that clan knows and respects. So now Johnny has to figure out who killed Elliot just to keep the Camarilla and the Lasombra out of Orange County. Feels like being a goddamn puppet is what it feels like. But it's about keeping the Cam out of the Free States, so if it means feeding information to this Ligatio dude, Johnny'll do it.

Right now? It looks like Gangrel were involved. Maybe Sabbat Gangrel, maybe Keller and Rooster's own guys. But there's a central question; how did they know about Elliot and how did they know how to find him? Were they after him? Or did someone tip them off and if so, who the fuck was it?

It's makin' Johnny's head hurt.

Simon learns to duck

Okay, so Simon finally decides he has the time to learn to be quicker. Simon taught Johnny some of that Dominate hoodoo in the summer, but Simon’s been busy doing Ventrue shit like taking control of banker and politicians and shit. But now, Simon wants to learn some Celerity. How to have more than just a reflex reaction, but to harness that reflex and direct it.

So Simon shows up in these ridiculous purple Ecko sweats. What the fuck? Did Simon think that we were going to go for a light jog or something? The only person those purple sweats might look good on might be Angel. ‘Cause only black people can wear purple and not look like clowns.

So we’re standing there, making small talk at first, right? “Any trouble with the traffic on the 55 tonight? Nah? Sidestreets? Yeah, Johnny forgets that sometimes.” And then smack! Johnny just slaps Simon across the face.

Simon looks at Johnny not like it hurt or anything, but like, what the fuck are you doing? But Johnny just keeps talking, like nothing happened, talking about this new strip club that he saw on the way here and how Johnny gotta check it out later. So Simon relaxes and starts talking financial shit. Like what the latest numbers are on P.F.Chang’s and shit. So Johnny slaps him again, same hand, same cheek. This time he actually says something about it.

“What the fuck Johnny? What are you slapping me for?” So Johnny slapped him again, this time with the other hand and the other cheek. “Hey!” So Johnny smacked him again.

“What? You wanted to learn to be faster. Well, Johnny figures from watching you take a punch from Sharky a few weeks back you’re getting to be pretty fuckin’ tough. So the knife idea won’t work anymore. But smackin’ the shit out of you will. You want Johnny” –smacked him again- “to stop bitch slapping you? Then do something about it. Grab Johnny’s hand before it gets there. It’s about instinct” –another slap- “not thinking. It’s about doing” –and again- “not planning. Force yourself to just react, not think about what to do next.”

Simon just stood there, looking like Sharky must have when he was told he was adopted. Totally confused for a moment. So Johnny slapped him again.

That’s how it went the rest of the night. Talking about all kinds of shit, financials, what the fuck we are, what the Architects stand for, and Johnny slapping the shit out Simon. Started to get kinda funny, ‘cause Simon would just take the slap, look aside, actually exhale, then compose himself to continue the conversation.

It started getting late, so we had to call it a night. Might have put a bit of dent in Simon’s left cheek by accident. So we meet the next night. This time it’s a baby blue fuckin’ Armani sweat suit. Who fuckin’ dresses Simon at night? Yet again, it takes all night and Simon is not only not getting it, it seems like he’s started to get fucking pissed at getting spanked more than at a fraternity hazing ritual. For some reason, the next night is out. But he grabs his sack and tries again for the night after that. And it seems like it’s just not fuckin’ working and Simon is really starting to steam. Almost fuckin’ literally steaming.

It wasn’t until Johnny started to think about actually leaving and continuing another night when it happened.

Johnny twitched his right shoulder to try and fool Simon into thinking it was the right hand coming (hey, it worked earlier) then went with the left. But suddenly there was Simon with not only a block, but actually grabbed Johnny’s hand and was moving with the other to slap Johnny! The anger finally punched through that clinical head of his and he just reacted, just finally let the anger go, not like letting out the beast like Sharky does, but let the anger just guide his body and “fire it up.”

Johnny caught the hand easy and smiled. Finally did it. Johnny let go of Simon’s hand and said “About fuckin’ time. Started to get bored with all this talking. Not when there are strippers to talk to. Keep it real dude.” Before Simon could say anything, Johnny just started walking back to the car and Simon followed. And that was all. Too late to hit the strip club, but that’ll wait for another night.

Journal #15, Dec.4, 2007

Um. Yeah. Johnny doesn’t know if he’ll learn anymore Fortitude shit from Joe Barclay anymore. The motherfucker isn’t just a sadist, he’s fucking psychotic. Who the fuck drives off a bridge on purpose and talks about how cool it was? Who?

Okay, he’s the story. Johnny meets Joe at some dive bar down in Gangrel turf down south. A serious biker bar where some of the chicks had bigger biceps than Sharky, had more tattoos than any Brujah and were scarier than any Nosferatu. Seriously, a few of these biker chicks were more manly than most of the other bikers in there. They probably had bigger clits than most Toreador pricks. Damn.

So we’re there and Johnny is making small talk with Joe ‘cause it seems like we’re just waiting for someone or something to do. Then he checks his watch and says something about someone not coming, so we’ll do it another night. Johnny is thinking, fuck, a wasted night hanging out in a damn biker bar.

Now, for some reason, Joe picked Johnny up from the Ship in Santa Ana, so Joe was actually driving this piece of shit Ford F150 pickup truck. Johnny swears it only had an AM radio. Suddenly Joe loses control somehow and plows, passenger side first, into a fucking tree.

What the fuck? Joe, as usual, isn’t even scratched. But Johnny is picking twigs out of his fucking nose. It’s not really bothering Johnny, not after the beatings Johnny already took from Barclay, but yeah, Johnny had to fix a leg and the nose was broken. So we’ve gotta pry ourselves out of this heap of twisted metal and wood.

Johnny should have known that something was up when there was a tow truck parked just down the street. And that Joe had another car waiting for us. Should have fuckin’ known, but then again, Johnny was just confused as fuck at how Barclay had crashed the car in the first place.

Anyway, before we go, Joe asks Johnny how he feels. Then he says something about “tapping into the same place as last time.” Now Johnny is starting to understand that this wasn’t a fucking accident. “The pain exists outside of you. Stay focused.” Or something like that.

Not only is Johnny understanding that the accident was on purpose but that the lesson probably isn’t over. And that’s starting to make Johnny really nervous.

So we get into another truck. A nice big Tacoma. We get on the 241 freeway and head north back towards home. Joe isn’t talking much, but he’s pointing out shit on the road like trees or something, slipping in comments about focusing outside the pain, shit like that. We’re coming up north and Joe inserts a second key into the dashboard. The passenger airbag light changes to a nice bright red color, like blood. He turned it off.

Oh fuck.

We hit that spot around Rancho Santa Margarita where there’s a bridge over this huge fucking ravine. Yeah. You know what’s about to happen by now, right? Yeah. The goddamn psychopathic Barclay jerks the wheel of the truck and smashes through the guardrail and over the side we go, and suddenly everything is in slow motion just like in the fuckin’ movies.

And it just keeps going. And going. When the fuck is this goddamn thing ever going to hit the ground? And when it does, will there be anything left of Johnny? The damn thing keeps sailing and it’s now nosed over so now we’re upside down.

The whole time, I am desperately trying to focus, I am desperately trying to gather my energies and trying to push even the idea of pain outside my being. Not only will I not feel pain, but I won’t have pain, it just won’t be there.

And then WHAM!!!!! The truck fucking flattened. Johnny was flattened too. For a moment it seemed like Johnny’s head was squashed right down into this fuckin’ crotch. But it didn’t hurt. It was uncomfortable, it wasn’t exactly a screaming orgasm from twins giving Johnny a blowjob, but it didn’t really hurt. At least not pain as Johnny has always understood pain.

Didn’t stop Johnny’s spine from being compacted by about two feet and mangling both arms, not to mention knocking Johnny fucking silly. But once Johnny’s world stopped spinning and sent the Blood where it belonged to stretch that spine back out and to mend those arms, it was again a matter of tearing ourselves out of that mangled heap of metal.

And you know what? Joe was fucking giggling. No, he’d never admit it. But Johnny swears for just a moment or two, he was fucking giggling.

No surprise, but once we finally make the climb up the ravine, there’s a Caltrans truck already bolting a new guardrail in place.

You know what Joe said next? If Johnny was cool or wanted to do it again.

Again? Goddamn psychopath.

Johnny was thirsty. And drinks were on Barclay. That just might be the last time Johnny hangs out with Barclay for a very long time…

Barclay gets scarier

Joe Barclay just gets scarier and scarier.

So Joe wants to know more about this Presence shit. Okay, ‘cause Johnny still needs to learn more the Fortitude shit. But, see, this time, it’s not about how cool you are, about your ability to get the chicks, it’s about your ability to scare the living shit out of your unliving enemies. Some fuckers call it the Dread Gaze.

Basically, it works because us licks now burn with a fire inside. Except it’s more like a monster or a beast, ‘cause if we don’t control it, we’ll do all kinds of heinous shit like eating babies, raping old nuns and voting Republican. So we all try to control it. Except maybe for Sharky. He votes Republican all the time.

So Johnny meets Barclay at a warehouse. Don’t really need anyone outside of us two to see us. Might be a breach of the Maquerade. Now, Johnny is busy explaining to Barclay what is going on, how it works. Barclay just stands there, like he does, listening. Then he asks, “Like this?”

Next thing Johnny knows, Johnny is half a city over. Motherfucker got it right the first fucking time. He bared his fangs, hissed like a hellcat, and his goddamn soul fucking rose up like a beast and damned if Johnny didn’t run like a little bitch.

Dude is just getting creepier and creepier. Don’t want to think how he’s gonna teach Johnny the next step of Fortitude.

Brujah and those other licks

They say that the Brujah basically fall into three camps. Iconoclast, Individualist and Idealist. Johnny calls bullshit.

It’s just not that fucking simple. In some ways, Johnny fits into all three, which some might say means Johnny is an Individualist, but that doesn’t seem quite right either.

See, the iconoclasts are pissed off and want to tear down the system. Why the fuck else be an Anarch if you don’t want to tear down or at least change the system? The Idealists see some sort of glory in the past and it’s all about brotherhood. Yeah, well, there’s plenty of Camarilla Brujah brothers Johnny would happily let get ashed. And the Individualists who seem to be only for themselves.

At least that’s how it seems to Johnny. The whole point of being an Anarch is to tear down the Camarilla system. The tyrants of the Sabbat too. And that should be by all means necessary, from buying politicians to firebombing the Prince’s haven. But we should all stand together, at least as Anarch brothers, despite our many differences. And we should work together to build a better, more lasting society. That’s a big part of the reason behind the Architects of Freedom. And Johnny don’t feel it’s really Johnny’s place to tell his Anarch brothers and sisters what to do; come to Johnny with a problem and Johnny’ll be like Solomon. Keep your nose clean and there’s no reason for Johnny to issue anything even vaguely like an order.

Maybe that’s what it comes down to. Even though Johnny is now communicating with Brujah across the country, Johnny just feels it’s more important to be an Anarch than to be Brujah. Johnny wasn’t given a choice to be Brujah, it just happened that way. Fuck, like Johnny ever wanted to be a goddamn vampire in the first place. Johnny didn’t choose any of that. But Johnny did choose to be Anarch. Johnny did choose to put everything at risk for The Movement.

And so ultimately, the bonds of Anarch brotherhood trump the hoodoo voodoo bonds of the blood of Brujah for this particular lick.

Maybe that’s why Johnny deliberately built the Architects with Malkavians and Ventrue. Would have been happy with a Gangrel or one of those Nosferatu even. Ain’t seen too many of those around the OC. Some of ‘em seem more trustworthy to Johnny. And for them, it seems like The Movement is more important than blood to them too.

Simon, our Ventrue, just might be our secret weapon if we can keep Sharky from killing him. Those fuckers are just too good with all that business and politics shit. Can’t fight for fuck, but shit, you need a loan or to get the local councilman recalled, the suits are the way to go man.

The Malks are fuckin’ weird. But there’s something about them that keeps Johnny wondering if they don’t know something that the rest of us don’t. Gotta keep the Anarch Malks on Johnny’s side as best as possible, just in case they do know something. Pretty good at spying too when they wanna be.

Barclay seems to be an okay Gangrel. At least he doesn’t go around sniffing our asses and lifting his leg and shit like a few of them seem to do around here. Or is so goddamn territorial like some damn junkyard dog that wasn’t told the junkyard was sold and being turned into a mini-mall. Not that he’s in the gang, but he is friendly to us it seems. Kinda confusing though.

No fucking Toreador!!! Goddamn faggots. Pouting and preening and posing. Fuckin’ hate them.

Don’t know enough about the rest of ‘em, like the Tremere and the Nosferatu. Or the Lasombra or those Zimishe or whatever they are called. Those last two are goddamn shovelheads.

Huh. Went from Brujah philosophy to talking about clans. Weird.

Cash Rules Everything Around Me

Whoa.

That's a lot of fuckin' money. Johnny got hooked up with some brothers in the Movement back in Chicago or something and they gave $500,000 to Johnny to spend to help build the Free States here. Su-weeeet!!

So the money is going to go in three different directions. First, guns. Gotta build up a stockpile of guns to be used by the Movement. Even guys like Simon gotta learn how to handle heat and that means getting them some guns to use. So Johnny figures somewhere between 50 to 100 G's will buy enough guns for everyone down here to have two.

Next is politicians. We need those weasels in our pockets to help not only against the Cam, but against the fuckin' riceferatu. So Johnny is gonna drop, dunno, maybe 200K on buying some political friendships.

Best of all? Hookers. Lots of hookers. Okay, not really, but sort of. Gotta work the streets and who knows the pulse of the streets better than hookers? Those bitches know everything but no one bothers to listen to them. Except Johnny. Spread the rest of the cash around and they'll all come to Johnny when they hear anything interesting.

Oh yeah.

But it's kinda like in the movies, you know? Never seen that much money in one place before and it was just like in the movies. Freakin' cool.

Cold, hard, cash

Yeah baby!

Okay, some Anarchs back in the midwest have managed to turn in a lot of recyclables and penny rolls and have turned that into $10 million dollars. They decided to part with that cash to help out the Movement. Well, Johnny asked for money for hookers, politicians and guns. And Johnny got 500 Gs. Half a mil. Sweet!

Now Johnny has got to figure out just how many guns and hookers that buys. And exactly where to buy them. It'll help not only fight the goddamn cammunists that have stepped south of the 10 into Anarch turf, but also those uppity riceferatu down here in the OC.

Hookers and guns baby!

Journal #13, November 16, 2007

That selfish little pricklet Range has served at least one purpose in his miserable unlife. And that's the really drive home the point between Anarchs and God Damn Independents.

To be a part of the Movement, you have to be willing to be a part of something bigger than you. You have to be willing to sacrifice at least a little bit of yourself for the greater good, for the good of the Movement. And Range ain't willing to do that. Says that the necessity of sacrifice for the cause is actually oppression. WTF? That's just stupid. And more to the point, it's extremely selfish. Range isn't an Anarch, he's an anarchist. He's a GDI and he ain't a part of the Anarch Movement.

See, now Owl is a grumpy fucker that really only cares about violently tearing down the Monarchy. MalkieMaggie is a weird little bitch that thinks that setting a better example is more important than ripping some cammunists head off. But they both have the Movement in mind, they both have shown that they are willing to work and sacrifice for the Movement.

Does the sacrifice need to be major? Like life and death? Nah. But it's gotta be enough to make it worth it. To make it actually count.

Seriously, any Anarch that would sell out a brother or sister for a debt, especially if it's a cash debt, is nothing more than a traitor. And traitors deserve nothing but a long walk on a sunny street.

At the least, Range is a GDI and not really an Anarch. At worst he's a fucking traitor to the Movement. At least Johnny has a better idea of who's really down and who's not.

The opening volleys

Like Johnny said before, the riceferatu have decided that it's time for war, that they are staking their long-held claims to Westminster and Garden Grove and now going after Irvine.

So now it's time to fight back.

So the KKK of the undead, the Knight of Retribution are now on our side (supposedly) and are going after four apartment complexes that are supposedly infested with KJ and their mortal tools. They need our help though and Simon managed to get Barclay to agree to help (the Irvine claims have gotten under their fur it seems). Seems the Gangrel are going to summon hordes of rats and mice and shit to one of the apartments in an attempt to get it condemned. Should work. Once condemned, it will hopefully be demolished, breaking part of the riceferatu's hold on the area. Or it'll spread them around which might make it worse.

Johnny tried to dump cash into the small local elections over the last few days. Focused on non-Asian candidates (sorry dudes) that either were going to whup-ass or that were only a little bit behind and extra money might help sway the election in their favor. Tried to use Johnny's other money men to cover up the cash-influx, or at least keep it from being traced back directly to Johnny. Then, Johnny figures it's the time for political parties, right? Victory balls and all that and Johnny does have the hook-ups with the parties and clbus, so Johnny is going to be busy this weekend with those parties. Gotta try to get some hoo-ups with the local politicians.

And it's about time the hookers on the street and the strippers in the clubs pay extra attention to the word on the street and let Johnny know what they hear.

This war sure as shit ain't gonna be all about personal combat and shit. Guys like Sharky are gonna be useful, but Johnny thinks that a dude like Simon are gonna be even more useful, especially at the beginning of this shitstorm.

Journal #12, November 5, 2007

Hi ho, hi ho, it's off to war we go...

Goddamn it. Okay, so the riceferatu have been a thorn in the OC's side for, like, a year now. We tried a treaty, but that got bogged down by old fuddy-duddies (how the fuck is that spelled anyway?) and went nowhere. Negotiations went nowhere. Skirmishes and sniping didn't really accomplish much either. Outright bullshit just seemd to annoy them. So now they've decided that as of December, it's time for war.

And they've decided that Westminster and Garden Grove aren't enough, no. They need Irvine too. At least that'll make sure the Gangrel get involved for a change.

It's gone too far. Johnny didn't really want war, tried to avoid war, tried to gather the OC Anarchs together, but we were too splintered, too selfish and now it may come to haunt us. Now it's being brought to us, and now we have to do something about it.

It's actually kind of a relief because of that. Now Mr. Black and Remus and even the Gangrel will have to come to together and get something done, or it's yet more turf lost to the keui-jinn.

It's a good thing Johnny found that national Brujah list...some of the fuckwit Cam brothers and sisters might actually be able to prove their worth and lend some kind of a hand in the fight.

This just isn't the fight Johnny wanted.

Why even bother?

Sometimes, Johnny wonders why he even bothers.

No, not the whole Anarch thing. The business of bothering to try and defend being an Anarch to a bunch of Cammie fucktards who aren't really interested in anything but running Johnny and the Movement down. All they seemingly want to do is to spend their time insulting Johnny, Perez, Cutter and every other Anarch that pops up on the Brujah message list other than Krieger. 'Course, that's because probably even the oh-so-bad-ass Jacen and Dean, the gay wonder twins, seem to even fear and respect Krieger muthafuckin' Klein.

Is that what it's really all about to the fuckwits? Power? If Johnny has got the power, they'll respect Johnny. Isn't that what Status, Elders, even Prestation boils down to?

Johnny remembers what Prince Book of SF said nearly a year ago. He basically said it's about power, though he was talking more on a domain kind of level. It's basically being proven true by Brujah that should know better than to simply follow the Camarilla's rules blindly.

It's a hard lesson to learn, but Johnny thinks maybe he's finally getting it.

Teaching Presence Hurts Too

What in the hell was that all about?

Okay, so in return for teaching Johnny how to be tougher, Johnny had to teach Joe Barclay about how to, you know, make people notice you and make people realize just how cool you are. Except it doesn’t really work that way with Barclay…

Right, so it was off to hit the bars with Barclay. Has there ever been a worse wingman? Other than sad, weepy, emo-nerds that is. Fucker looks like death-warmed over, won’t take off those sunglasses and knit-cap and socially is more like a rabid bull in a fine china shop. Johnny got banned, fucking banned from the Hurricane in H.B. because Barclay decided to pick a fight with the bartender *and* the bouncer. At the same time. All because of a girl or a drink. Or a girl and a drink. Johnny isn’t sure and Barclay wouldn’t say. Damn it.

Johnny even tried to teach Barclay the “Mystery” pick-artist shit in case maybe Barclay’s mind works that way. Told ‘im it was bullshit, which it ain’t, but if you ain’t got the hoodoo voodoo in your cock like Johnny does, it does work.

So anyway, the first night we head to Sharkeez. Hot hangout for college kids and those just out of college, working their first jobs. Great place to meet young impressionable chicks that are easily manipulated out of their panties with a few drinks and some flash of big cash. Dude, Barclay struck out harder than Casey at the bat. So Johnny shows him how it’s done. Cute little blonde with graduation present tits that she could rest her own chin on. A few giggles from her, some Bacardi mojitos for her, next thing you know, Johnny is banging her in the bathroom while some fuckwad frat boy is banging on the door. Might have been her boyfriend or something, maybe. Gave her the Kiss at the right moment and wow, she nearly killed herself, went stiff as Johnny’s cock then totally, totally limp. Very nearly cracked her skull open on the toilet.

Anyway, broke the boyfriend’s nose and convinced the bouncer it was all good in the hood and so the dude was kicked out, Johnny stayed. You’d think with that kind of big-boobed motivation Barclay might come out of his shell a bit. Nah. Kept spooking the coeds, so Johnny figured it was time to bail out before Johnny’s rep took too big a hit, you know?

Next night was the Yardhouse. Older crowd, drinking microbrews and cocktails ‘cause unlike the Sharkeez crowd, they actually have their own money from their real jobs. Set Barclay up good a few times. And nothing. He just didn’t get it. He was so stuck in his furry Gangrel mind he just didn’t get the idea of being The Man. Of just being able to attract someone with a confident aura, no cheap Mystery tricks like I.O.I.s or kenos or sets or anything, just pure raw sexuality. Or charisma. Or power.

It took a few more nights. A few more bar fights. Yeah, like the one that got us both banned from Hurricane’s. For at least the next year, that’s one bar Johnny isn’t allowed to go into, all because Barclay got into a fight and Johnny stepped into it. Well, actually, Johnny is pretty sure he could, you know, sweet talk his way into the joint, but there’s plenty of other places to go. It’s just aggravating, you know?

Finally at The Ship in Santa Ana he finally got it, just when Johnny was about to give up for a week or three. He went up to some cougar at the bar, some chick from England with enough money to buy off her wrinkles and starts talking to her. And somehow Barclay just seemed to exude raw animal sexuality, which makes sense given his clan. And she went from just tolerating this weird dude that looked like a mountain man survivalist strung out on heroin to taking him to the back parking lot and her SUV. Barclay said it was an SUV anyway when he came back. She looked tore up. The bartender asked if she was okay and she just smiled. You know that smile, the one you give when you just got your brains fucked out? Yeah, that one. The bartender just gave Barclay a look and shrugged.

So yeah, when Barclay sat back down at the table, he slid a pink Victoria’s Secret thong across the table. Number one, it was fuckin’ soaked. Number two, it had the chick’s phone number on it. He asked if he passed. Johnny just smiled and said “Oh yeah!”

Whoa...

Now, Johnny never normally comments on the babes on the blog...you should just accept them for who they are, beautiful decorations. See, that's part of the problem with most guys. They put these hot chicks on pedestals and worship them and shit. Nah, you gotta treat 'em like any other chick and then they'll see that you are different and react to that, you know?

Anyway, the first one is a nearly perfect woman...okay, so she's not asian...and those are fake, but still, this chick could probably rock the entire Song of the Southland and still want more...

This second chick is what Johnny wishes every lick chick was like...Johnny might even do fanged pussy if they looked like this...

Thorns Sucks Ass

Johnny just doesn't get it. Why would any self-respecting Anarch claim the Treaty of Thorns?

Okay, so maybe if they are, like, the sole Anarch in the entire domain, but if that's the case, are even really an Anarch? Or are they just an agitator? But otherwise, why would an Anarch ever claim to be essentially Camarilla in leather clothing?

It doesn't make much sense. Johnny figures they want to have their cake and eat it too, you know? They can run with the cool kids, but if trouble comes, they can always go running to Mommy and claim they were under our bad influence. That almost makes them traitors, you know? It's not like they are really devoted to the Movement, 'cause if they were, they'd be claiming Status Perfectus.

What really gets Johnny are the assclowns that claim neither. Total fuckwits those are. Totally selfish too. They want all the "rights" that Status Perfectus declares, but don't want any of the responsibility. No, only taking care of number one and fuck the rest. Individuality is cool and all, but your gotta see beyond yourself and do something for the Movement and not just for you.

Someon has gotta step up and lead the Anarchs like Big J once did. God help us all if it's Johnny...

It's that time of year

It's getting to be that time of year. When you can go to a party, or even a bar, and be a "vampire" in public and not have to worry about the Masquerade. Well, unless of course you are pulling stupid shit like picking up cars or running alongside them on the freeway.

Never cared that much for Halloween as a mortal. It was for the kids, you know? Trick or treating, bobbing for apples, stupid homemade costumes, you know, yeah? Totally different that last few years though. Now it seems like it's a total grown-up, adult holiday and kids are just an afterthought.

Johnny does really like the costumes though. Fuck yeah, it's a chance for any chick to let out their inner slut in public and just dress like total skanks and whores and have the "legitimate" excuse that it's just a Halloween costume. And then Johnny gets to put on a cheesy cape, slick back his hair, and be Dracula (like that fucker ever actually lived, yeah?) and they "let" Johnny seduce them. Ha!

Not to mention going to places like Knott's Scary Farm or shit like that makes it so goddamn easy to feed. Manage to get some teenage girl (not too young though) broken off from her friends, use the powers of persuasion to get her to start sucking face, stick a hand up her skirt, and bam! you get a pint and she never knows what hit her aside from a killer orgasm. Even if she figures out enough shit to say a vampire drank her blood, her friends are just gonna think she was making out with some dude in vampire costume in one of the mazes or something.

Gotta be careful and all. Johnny don't get careless this time of year; shit, it pays to be even more paranoid that normal. But it can be a fun time of year.

Journal #11, October 16, 2007

Joe Barclay is a closet sadist.

That's almost all Johnny needs to say. Goddamn that hurt. And not really how Johnny expected it to hurt.

So Barlcay said he’d teach Johnny Fortitude. So out into the woods goes Johnny to meet with’im. There’s a couple of trucks and Barclay. So he says to Johnny, I got an obstacle course in the woods. Okay, maybe not so much obstacle course, but it wasn’t exactly an Olympic sprinting track. So, Johnny’s like, okay, whatever, let’s show Barclay what a little Celerity can do. So Johnny burns some blood and fuckin’ blazes around the course that Barclay set up.

That’s when two dudes got out of one of the trucks packing tire knockers. Joe said Johnny had better just take it like a man, or he might have to get involved and that would really fucking hurt. Goddamn it took everything in Johnny not to just summon more power of the blood and just rip their fucking heads off. Then Barclay says to run the track again. Well, after offering Johnny a chick in the back of the other truck, but Johnny wanted to impress Barlcay, so Johnny said no. The first time around anyway.

Well, okay. So partway through the second lap, Johnny figures he’s gonna get sneaky, yeah? Us a bit more blood to heal up some of the beatin’ and then power up the Celerity again. That’ll impress Barclay, right?

Um. No. And it fucking hurt. Turns out there were some fucking pit bulls in one of the trucks. And Barclay let’em loose on Johnny for trying to use the blood to heal. Killed ‘em both, but not before one of them took a big bite out of Johnny’s leg.

Every fucking lap ended with the two fuckwits beating the crap out of Johnny. And it wasn’t like there were an endless harem of girls to drink from. So it wasn’t like Johnny could just continue to burn celerity or heal up. At one point, Johnny tried to chomp on one of the goons, but Barclay smacked Johnny right in the jaw and well, that was the end of that. Off to races again. Run a lap, get the crap beaten out of you. Run a lap, get the crap beaten out of you. What the fuck is this sadistic shit?

So it's starting to lighten up, you know, dawn is coming, so obviously it's time to bug out. Goddamn it. That means gotta come back tomorrow night and do it all again. Barclay tells me to make sure Johnny is ready to go. Fuck.

So the next night it's more of the same. Run that goddamn lap, get the crap beaten out of Johnny. Run the lap, get the crap beaten out of Johnny. Run the lap, get the crap beaten out of Johnny. It just wasn't getting any better.

But then somewhere around 4 in the morning, it finally happened. Johnny had been in so much pain for so long, it just finally stopped hurting. No, that’s not right. It finally stopped bothering Johnny. The pain was there, it just didn’t get into Johnny’s head anymore. It was there, like a warning that something was wrong with the body, you know? But there weren’t fucking loud fire alarms and klaxons and flashing lights and shit going off in Johnny’s head anymore. The pain was just there and that was all.

When the lap was finished, Barclay almost seemed disappointed. He told the two goombas to get in their truck and just nodded at Johnny, then got in his own. Johnny just stood there a minute watching them drive off. Then got into the BMW and went home…

The worst part about it though? To learn more means more of this sick sadistic shit.

Journal #10, October 7, 2007

Well, that was a waste. A creepy waste.

So Rabbit calls a rant. People come to the usual gathering, but licks are also coming for the rant. But what does Rabbit do? He bails on us all, his Anarch brothers and his Brujah brothers, just to go to a goddamn hockey game! So some mortal sport is more important than his brothers? WTF?

Bear thinks it was about Rabbit getting his van getting blown up by Tom Jennings. Rabbit went to Mr. Black, Tom’s baron, but Black told him to fuck off, it’s just a van. So it looks like Rabbit went over Black’s head (which is his right, Johnny figures) to go to us all. And then doesn’t bother to show.

So Owl took over and we decided that Jennings shouldn’t have blown up the van, but that Rabbit was being a bitch. So we decided that both of them are deserving of a boot party.

‘Course, we found out later that Rabbit has been telling the Cam that he’s our Anarch representative to them and the Song’s rep too. Nobody knew that. So that’s earned him another boot party. Dumbfuck.

It got creepy too; Owl and Crimson started seeing ghosts, saying that some girl got murdered in the area not long before. So Bear, Sharky, Lauren and I follow those two to the other end of the park, into the children’s playground. And what do you know, but there’s a dead girl underneath the swings. Cut in half, sliced up, her face cut up like the Joker’s. Okay, really more like the Black Dahlia, but Johnny didn’t see that movie. That’s creepy enough.

But Johnny also hears that weird shit is going down in Irvine. Some presence, some thing is sucking our powers and even memories if you are down there too long. So isn’t it wonderful that the Gangrel let us go feed there now? Goddamn furries.

Rabbit calls a rant?

So why is Rabbit calling a Rant? WTF could he possibly want? It seems more than a little weird, that if anyone from the Song of the Southland would be calling a rant, it sure as shit wouldn't be Rabbit. After all, he's gayer than any Toreador, organized the donkey show, and loves to penis-punch Sharky and I. Or at least, he tries to punch us; doesn't happen any more.

So what does he want? Is it a brujah matter, a Song issue, an anarch thing, what?

Camarilla are morons

Damn dude!

Okay, so, like, Johnny found this national connection for Brujah across the country. Pretty fuckin' cool, right?

No.

'Cause most of them are cocksucking cammunists whose only pastime and passion is to give crap to anyone new to the list. They claim to be Brujah, they claim to be "rebels" (or at least a few of them do), but they are just sucking from the same Camarilla teat as the rest of the clans.

And oh so tired they are of dealing with stupid rebellious teenagers like Johnny. Won't we just make it easier and just accept that they are right, we are wrong, and just be good little cammunists?

Wow, the whole Ivory Tower business is real and alive and well today. These bastards are so totally out of touch with the real world today, so totally out of touch with Los Angeles and Orange County, they couldn't find their way out of a paper bag.

It's just sickening that some of these arrogant self-centered bastards call themselves Brujah when it's clear that some of them are more Toreador or Ventrue than Brujah.

Made a deal with Barclay

I think I may have made a deal with Joe Barclay.

The Knights of Retribution are some scary fuckers. They've waxed a few too many of the KJ in the last few months. Now, I told them they could do a few operations, but they took that to mean they had a green light to do whatever they wanted to the KJ whenever they wanted. Which meant assassinating one of their higher-ups at an Anarch rant.

Now I called them on it, just like Simon did. Gotta back the fellow Architect. Well, now they are calling me a traitor for trying to work diplomacy in addition to letting them do their thing. Not that I meant for them to do their thing whenever.

So I'm fuckin' scared. This ain't cool. I don't want my brains scattered across the lawn.

So I went to Barclay. Fucker can walk out of exploding houses with barely a singe on his lapel. He said, yeah, he'd teach me some Fortitude. I just gotta teach him some Potence. I'm not sure that a Gangrel that can walk out of C-4 explosions with the ability to grow claws should really be knowing Potence...but what the fuck choice do I have? I need to be able to be tougher, not just against the KJ or the Sabbat, but now in-case the Knights of Retribution come after me.

Not.

Fucking.

Cool.

Journal #9, September 19, 2007

Sometimes it really pisses me off when people think I’m stupid. I’m not stupid. I just don’t want to die. Well, I don’t want to die again.

That’s why I created Johnny Chang. That’s not who I really truly am. I’m no leader. I love chicks, and it’s cool having magic-like powers to get chicks, but I’m no pervert. Johnny Chang is, but I’m not. I wasn’t raised to be uncouth and foul-mouthed, but that’s Johnny.

Goddamn fuckin’ Camarilla. Had to go and ash Candy, and it’s not like we were doing a goddamn thing. Nothing! We weren’t shovelheads, we weren’t even Anarchs. We just weren’t Acknowledged Cammunists. And that fuckin’ Hound figured that gave him free reign to do what he wanted to us. I guess I wasn’t worth a second thought, but Candy had said she had been in California since the Gold Rush. If that was true, then fuck, she would have been worth attention. So the Hound ashed her, at least I think that's all he did to her. Used that Dread Gaze shit on me and I fucking ran like a whipped dog. I couldn’t go back to our place, I didn’t know where else to go. I had no choice but to go to the Cam just to survive. That fucking Hound did everything he could do embarrass the fuck out of me. When I finally got enough dirt on him to embarrass him in front of the Prince (for trying to make a deal with the Sabbat; it was bullshit but the Prince never knew and the evidence was too good not to be true) I knew my time in San Francisco was done and over. I also knew I could never return. Maybe now I could, since I heard some keui-jinn ashed him a few years back. But the rest just might remember me.

So I decided to head back home and become a totally new person. I’d managed to save up a bunch of money and it had been over a decade since I’d been in SoCal. Got into the porn and the paparazzi business, since it was something the old me would never do. Started getting all fashionable, like one of those faggot Toreador, to further separate the old me from the new me. Did manage to piss off some keui-jinn foot soldier when I got in his way with PF Chang’s, but so what. Fuck, I even learned to talk different so that again, the connection between the old me and the new me would be even more tenous and difficult to discover.

But sometimes, I miss being me.

It's all about Power

Goddamn it all. So that fuckin' Archon is making noise and shit. Claims to be friendly to Anarchs. Yeah fuckin' right. He might be friendly to Brujah who happen to also be Anarchs, but Johnny doubts he'd be friendly to a Malkavian Anarch or something.

What's worse is that otherwise good Anarchs like Brer Bear are apologists for the fucker! The Archon is a jack-booted thug, the nightstick wielded by the Cam Elders upside our Anarch skulls. How can you be friends with the weapon meant to crush you?

But the worst part? Johnny doesn't have the power to stop the fucker. Johnny ain't got the personal power, the gang power, or the baronial power to stop him. Unless Johnny got really damn lucky, he'd get torped real quick in one-on-one combat. The gang is more about unity and building that bashing heads; seriously, three Malks and a Ventrue, plus three Brujah. Not exactly a combat crew. Maybe if all of Santa Ana got unified to fight him, it'd happen. But it would be tough and more than a couple of us would get torped.

Johnny needs Power. Personal power. The gang needs to be taught how to fight better. Johnny needs to learn more Disciplines. Needs to learn those rumored mystic "combo" Disciplines. Shit, Johnny needs to seriously consider the power of Diablerie.

Random collected thoughts (August 30/31)

August 30
So Johnny heard something about a bunch of Gangrel getting together a few weeks back. Um...what? That can't be a good thing.

Johnny just doesn't get them. They are Independent, so they aren't Camarilla. But they aren't Sabbat or Anarch either. They don't seem to really have a side and fuck all if that isn't confusing. Like, there is that dude, Joe Barclay, that a year ago was one of the brightest lights of the Anarchs. Now, he's claiming he ain't an Anarch and never really was. What the fuck?

So Johnny figures that a bunch of furry Gangrel getting together in some forest or something isn't a good idea on any level. Johnny is having a real hard time thinking that it might actually be a good thing for the Anarchs.

August 31
It's too fuckin' hot around here. When it's still 90 degrees at midnight, it's too hot. Yeah, it does have it's advantages; brings the body temperature up to something much closer to normal mortals for example. But when you don't sweat (and Johnny has already had more than a few problems when some chick is coming down from a good screaming orgasm and suddenly realizes you the guy pumping her snatch for the last hour isn't sweating a drop) people start to look at you funny. Johnny can't wait for it to cool down to something more reasonable.

August 31
Tonight is the monthly Anarch rant down here in the OC. Too much shit happening, and Johnny hopes that something is finally fuckin' resolved. The riceferatu, the Sabbatt, the Ghosthunter crew and as always, the damn Camunists. Maybe, just maybe, something will finally break and something will wrap up and we can focus better on the problems remaining to us.

Journal #8, September 12, 2007

Johnny just don’t get it. How the fuck is it that the Gangrel and the Giovanni get to live free from the Camarilla? Okay, so the Ghost Hunters get away with it because they probably have more money than the Ventrue do. But the furries? How did they pull it off, the whole breaking away business? How do they continue to get away with it? It don’t make a fuck lot of sense.

And what the hell is it with big muckity-muck Cammunists thinking they can be friends with us Anarchs? What, we’re the cool, leather-jacket wearin’, smokin’ in the bathroom cool kids at school and they want to be that way too? Like this fuckin’ Archon, Dominic. He must be pretty powerful to be an Archon, that’s the truth. But what makes him think he can be cool just like us? Doesn’t he have enough poncy Cam-types to be friends with? As a Brujah, does he maybe realize he belongs with us? Did he get tired of pushin’ around wacky Malks and faggot Tories? But fuck-all if Johnny is going to let that fucker continue to hang-out with us. If the Thorn-Anarchs up north in L.A. want to hang out with him, that’s fine. But down here in the OC? Fuck no. That’s a declaration of fuckin’ war. Johnny knows that he ain’t yet got the power in his blood to take this Dominic down in a one-on-one fight. But who the fuck ever said that the Anarchs had to fight fair? That it had to be one-on-one? Naw, Johnny will pull out every fuckin’ lie, cheat, steal and dirty trick to take the fucker down if he comes down to Santa Ana.

Victor, now that wacko is a different case. And if some Cammunist is sympathetic, whatever. But a goddamn Archon thinking he’s all friends with Anarchs? Fuck that.

Journal #7, August 15, 2007

Shit Johnny would like to learn.

More Potence and Celerity. Duh. The better Johnny can throw down Drunken Monkey Boxing, the better for Johnny. And for the gang. And the Nation.

Johnny has heard some rumors about older Brujah being able to do shit like combine Celerity and Potence and do like Neo in “The Matrix” and really beat the crap out of people. Not sure anyone ‘round here knows anything like that though. Maybe Black or Remus. Maybe Bear too.

How to use the blood to entrance chicks. Not that Johnny needs the help or anything, you know, but watching Angel do that to both Maryse and Wykowski, that was fuckin’ awesome. Pretty funny too, watching Wykoski turn all gay and Maryse, germaphobe that she is, suddenly get wet in the panties was hilarious. Bet she had to burn those panties before she crashed out for the day.

Some Auspex. Seeing better in the dark or even seeing those auras would be fuckin’ cool. If Johnny could see a chick’s aura, wow, being able to tell if she’s a bitch or not? Or if she’s on the rag? Seeing how aroused a chick is from across the room ‘cause of her aura? Fuckin’ awesome.

Obfuscate would be cool too. Being able to hide out would be awful fuckin’ handy in certain situations. Johnny knows he ain’t the biggest fish in the sea and sometimes it’s a lot better to simply hide from bigger sharks than challenge them. So some of that hoodoo voodoo would be righteous.

Fortitude. Now that’s something Johnny really gotta learn. Being a vampire is cool and all. ‘Cause really, who else can get filled with lead and not only live, but walk away from it? But seriously, being able to take more punches would be so fuckin’ awesome it’s not even funny. Johnny really, really gotta find someone that can teach him some of that Fortitude shit.

Now, Simon is teaching Johnny some Dominate and it’s pretty fuckin’ cool to tell a chick to “Strip” and she does it, even if it’s in a dirty alley. And then “Suck.” Fuck yeah, that’s hot. And yeah, it’ll be really helpful in handling other mortal shit too.

Other than that? Shit, just get better at what Johnny is already good at. Extend the network of hookers, pimps and strippers. Learn more about the Anarch Nation. That kind of shit. Yeah.

Journal #6, August 5, 2007

Fuckenaye.

So, like, Johnny has been looking for this “Maldito” for a few weeks now, with Sharky. So Johnny is able to figure out that there is this scary dude with buck teeth and hairy pointed ears that the local Mexicans talk about to scare their kids into behaving. And Johnny hears that “Los Effes” have some kind of hook-up with him, some kind of connection. So Johnny is then able to figure out where the gang hangs out. And then it dead ends. They kidnap a bum to torture him, which was seriously fucked up. But Johnny figured hey, they were gonna feed him to the Maldito. Nope. Eventually let’em go and Johnny had to call 911 so he wouldn’t die or nothin’. Had Sharky beat the crap out of the rest of the gang. And that turned into a mistake.

See, two of the gangers escaped Sharky’s fists. And the other two, well, barely able to do anything. The one that could talk wasn’t talking and was calling Sharky the “Maldito.” Then Johnny left and got the car started and apparently Sharky executed the two gangers gangland style and tagged the wall with some other gang sign. Maybe not the best idea, because we went back there that night to look for the other “Los Effes” and the fuckin’ news wall all over it like Lindsey Lohan on cocaine. But Simon, man, Simon figured shit out.

See, being dressed in a suit, he could go right up and pretend to be with the news crews or a reporter or somethin’. And then using his Ventrue hoodoo voodoo, he got “Angel” to come with us. We took him to a hooker-motel and man, Dani didn’t even have to break out the strap-on. Simon made him sing like a canary. Talked about how some chica is the go-between between “Los Effes” and the “Maldito.”

So now it’s time to go talk to that chick.

Journal #5, July 10, 2007

Dude. Watching someone get their head sliced off is a lot fuckin’ cooler in the movies than in person.

So that shovelhead that Sharky pounded the fuck out of was really just a shovelhead, a foot soldier that didn’t even really know what the fuck it was. So it had to die, right? Yeah, he did. Had to.

So with the Gangrel getting so pissy about it, Johnny figures he’s gotta make sure he really is dead, so that no one will question things. Especially since it was the Giovanni that were helping question the shovelhead.

Now, Johnny heard that the Giovanni are into death and shit. Like, they talk to the dead, they collect spirits, shit like that. So Johnny figures that, hey, they are creepy motherfuckers, but Johnny would rather they are on the anarch side that against us. So Johnny says if they want the shovelhead’s soul, cool, take it. Well, they don’t really want it, but the one, Bart, likes to watch people die. His eyes got all freaky when it did happen.

So they start discussing how to kill the shovelhead. It just got real creepy. So Johnny asks if they can maybe do it clean-like. So Bart props up the shovelhead and Vincenzo draws out a cane sword and slices the shovelhead’s head clean off.

And it sure as shit wasn’t as cool as when you see it in the movies. You actually see shit in person that you don’t see on the TV. The blood even looks different, even in a shovelhead without any real blood left in him.

Vincenzo said to think happy thoughts and shit and well, all Johnny could think of was fresh poontang. Sweet, juicy, hot box. Yeah.

Three nights, three chicks. And Johnny is still kinda wierded out by the whole thing.

Journal #4, July 6, 2007

Wow. That was fucked up. Johnny had to stake Sharky. Now, it was to save my own ass, but still, it was messed up.

See, there was this shovelhead perv that was stalking chicks outside of clubs trying to get his fangs in them. Well, we caught up with him and when he tried to make a move, we got in position. Johnny got into the open to try and protect the chick and see what the shovelhead would do. Now, Sharky was supposed to circle around the back and make sure the shovelhead didn’t run. Or if worse came to worse, to surprise the shovelhead from behind and start beating him then. But fuckin’ Sharky, always jumpin’ the gun, started beating the fuck out of the bastard almost from word go. You know that scene in that ‘effed up movie, Pan’s Labyrinth? The one where the captain was beating the nose into that one guy’s face? Caved it in, right? That’s what Sharky was doing to the shovelhead, except with his bare fists. Now Johnny figures we gotta not just ash the shovelhead, that maybe we can interrogate the bastard and if necessary, ash him later. So Johnny pushes Sharky out of the way. Ooops. That was bad. Sharky went all frenzied and shit and before it was all over, Sharky broke my leg, dented my head, and took a chunk out of my neck with his fangs. Sharky is one tough bastard and goddamn fucker can hit harder than a freight train.

So really, what choice did I have? Either get beaten into torpor, get my heart’s blood drained by a frenzied friend, or stake him to get him to stop?

You know, other mother fuckers make fun of Johnny knowing Drunken Monkey. But goddamn if that didn’t save Johnny’s ass. Lured the rampaging bastard in and then staked him out of nowhere. Didn’t even realize what had happened don’t think.

So the shovelhead and Sharky are both staked and in separate storage units waiting for the monthly rant.

Sure as shit hope that Sharky understands what happened and why Johnny did it…

Journal #3, July 1, 2007

The Architects of Freedom. Sounds kinda pompous. But Johnny kinda likes it.

See, Johnny needed to get a gang together. Everyone cool was in a gang. The Song of the Southland is cool. Angel is cool and he’s got a gang, the Jellybats. And, well, if people were going to think Johnny was cool, well, a gang was in order.

So who to invite into the gang? Well, Sharky was obvious. The Doc and Maryse were kinda too. Not too sure about Elaine, but shit, she showed up and was their fuckin’ shadow and would have been too much of a problem to say no to. Crimson finally showed and well, ‘cause Sharky is in the gang she went along with it too.

And then Simon came back, he says from Chicago. Now that’s one cool cat. Motherfucker knows the mortals better than they do and knows the money and politics. Gonna be a real help to Johnny, Santa Ana, the Architects and the Free States.

We needed people that would compliment each other’s abilities, people that could, what’s the fuckin’ world they use at PF’s, “synergize” together. So like, Johnny is like the face man, Sharky and Crimson are the muscle, Doc does the research, Maryse uses the Malkavian Interweb, Elaine manages the finances. Well, Simon’ll probably do that better, but hell, the Song doesn’t have two money guys! And Simon knows mortal politics. Kinda like, you know, the A-Team. Yeah baby!

But that done, we needed a name. Fuck that was hard. Black Rain, Red Rain, Crimson Tide, the Professionals, WTF? More than just being cool, it had to reflect what we are about, and that is supporting the Anarch Nation. We ain’t about claiming turf, we are about the Nation. Well, at least from an Orange County perspective.

So Doc came up with the Architects of Freedom. Maybe a bit too poofy for Sharky, but Johnny likes it. We are going to help build the Nation back into the strong power it was decades ago. We are going to do what is necessary by working together, for the Nation.

Journal #2, June 20, 2007

So, like, Johnny’s been working on a treaty to present to the riceferatu. Or properly, the Kuei-jinn. Whatever. Johnny ain’t showed it to nobody yet, except Remus, Owl and Barclay.

See, the rice-eaters are here and there ain’t a goddamn thing anyone of us can really do about that. Correction. The Nation has enough soldiers to probably wipe the fuckers out. But what happens then? They just send more of them from China, Japan and Korea. In the meantime, what happens to the Anarch Free States? They collapse. ‘Cause while we got the soldiers, we’re gonna take casualties. Serious ones. We get left so weak from a war with the dog-eaters that the Camarilla and the Sabbat roll right over us and go head to head with each other, never you mind what is left of us. ‘Cause there won’t probably be enough of us to really do a goddamn thing about the cammunists or the shovelheads waltzing into our turf, ‘cause we won’t be strong enough to contest their claims.

That was something that San Fran silver-tongued bastard Prince Booker-man said that stuck with Johnny when his oh-so-high-and-mighty descended from San Fran to come to L.A. Become powerful enough and the Camarilla can’t do anything about it. ‘Cause that’s what the Camarilla princes do; they become powerful enough that the other cammunists can’t do anything to stop them becoming prince.

So the kuei-jinn are here and here to stay. They’re up in San Fran and ain’t nobody, not even the high-and-mighty Prince Booker-man can change that. They’re down in Westminster and Garden Grove and nothing short of all out war is going to change that. They got too powerful right under our goddamn noses. The Cam can’t get rid of us and now we can’t get rid of the kuei-jinn.

Johnny just hopes that Remus, Owl and Barclay can help with that treaty and it can get done. That problem needs to get solved so we can make sure the Sabbat don’t fuckin’ ash us.

Journal #1, June 14, 2007

So, like this chick Johnny was talking to at Sharky’s (the bar, not the Anarch), was talking about this wacked out idea of hers, that everyone has a theme song. She claimed hers was “Ooops, I did it again.”

So yeah, Johnny did her. Twice. In the parking lot. Got a pint too.
But it did get Johnny thinkin.’ What would the theme songs be for Rabbit, Owl, Sharky, Remus, all them?

Rabbit would have to be “Bitch” by that Meredith Brooks chick. ‘Cause Rabbit is a bitch. He talks about being tough, and yeah, he kinda is, but what the fuck does he ever actually do except bitch about shit he ain’t gonna do nothin’ about?

Uncle Remus might go hardcore, somethin’ like Atreyu’s “Vampire’s Lament.” ‘Cause he’s a vampire and he’s always, well, he gets fed up with the rest of us. So it would be like him lamenting the fact we just can’t seem to get shit done. Or maybe he gets “Los Angeles” by X. Cause he’s hardcore and he’s L.A.

Owl? Fuck if Johnny knows. He talks to a person that’s not even there, he is Johnny’s best friend one month and then the next he wants to kick Johnny’s ass. He’s willing to cut deals with the Sabbat, but won’t let Cammunists within 10-feet of him in Orange County. Maybe that Gnarls Barkley song, “Crazy.”

The Malks in the gang, the Architects, are easy. “Institutionalized” by Suicidal Tendencies. ‘Cause they’re crazier than shit. Though that Doc guy seems almost normal…he might be craziest of ‘em all.

Sharky might have to go old-school Anarch with “Fuck Authority” by Pennywise. That seems to be his main deal. Why he gets along with Johnny, who the hell knows?

Johnny would have to go with something like “Kung-Fu Fighting” or maybe more modern, like “Pimpin’ Ain’t Easy.” Something like that.

That’s about all Johnny can think of right now. Maybe more later.

Introduction

So, uh, chicks keep asking Johnny if he has a MySpace or Facebook or something. So Johnny thought he'd give it a try, not that he's gonna share this shit with anyone...