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.

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.

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!”

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.

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…