[voice post]

[static]

--'king hell, can't believe I've still got one of these things--

[violent coughing]

Right.

[sound of running; something slamming]

Did you lot really think any of that bollocks would do any good? Look--I'm trying to do you a favor here--get a dictionary. Turn to the "S" section--no, further, after "shit" but before "symbolism"--

SUBTLETY.

Jesus wept.

No, don't bother trying to tell me what I've missed. I'm a little short on time right now.

[OOC: The aftermath of the escape attempt distracted the succubi enough to let John escape their clutches, and he is now planning his final attack on them, which will lead into his return in a little over a week and this plot a few days later. He's now posting largely to distract his pursuers by deflecting them onto nosy passersby on the Network, because he's a bastard like that. Characters who respond to this post may, if their players want, later mention catching a glimpse of some horrifying, demonic-looking ethereal thing, but fortunately, they will refrain from actually attacking anyone (other than John).]

It bloody well figures, dunnit? The one day I leave my trenchcoat at the flat, this happens. It's not that I'm not used to rain--I'm a Londoner, you know--but this is the first time I've seen it come down like this here.

The answer is forty-two, by the way.

I haven't got a dry cigarette anywhere. I checked.

I hate this fucking place.

[Edit]

...I s'pose they're not always bad.

[OOC: had to make a post today just to abuse John further ♥ I'm likely to be slow for RL-related reasons that I'd rather not get into here, but I'll try to respond to all tags. Also, link is not there ICly.]

It's been a hell of a week. And I don't use that expression lightly, you know.

All I'm going to say is that some people take my initials too seriously. And other people don't react very well, but that's only to be expected, innit?

As for today's curse. Oi, you gods--ever occurred to you that you could just ask if you wanted cake? There are enough kindly idiots here that you'd get plenty, even if most of us hate you miserable bastards.

I'm not making you any cake. Especially since you sent my mate home--who'd put out the fire, eh?

( private to Eden and Tony // warded )

( private to Nicodemus // warded )

( private to Faye // warded )

[OOC: Yeah I've been putting off posting and commenting lately even though there's a lot of stuff for John to post about--sorry! Hopefully I can handle it for a while today. Also, he's totally lying about the cake thing. He did bake one. Or try to. He was half-asleep at the time, so he's not sure what went into it other than "most of the booze in the flat," but there was a lot of fire and smoke and he's still airing out the apartment.]

Oh, for fuck's sake, Eden--

Right. Listen up, you lot.

I hope you all know that I would be a bloody awful Warden.

For one thing, I'm usually on the other side of the law. Putting me in charge of the coppers here would be a terrible conflict of interest. Not to get into any great detail here, but they don't call me Conjob just 'cos of my name, you know.

And I'm just a bit lacking in morals. I smoke, I drink, I gamble. I shag women and don't ring afterwards. I've been known to have it off with blokes, too, if I find 'em interesting enough, and not treat them any better than the birds.

Let's not forget that I'm a pretty normal human, as this place's standards go. Sure, I've got some magic. Yeah, most of my enemies are dead or worse. But so are most of my friends, and do you really want that happening to the whole fucking police department? Besides, I can take care of myself just fine, but putting the law enforcement of this entire mad City in the hands of a bloke with just a bit of magic to his name? Not the brightest of ideas.

I hate this fucking City.

[OOC: Strikes deleted. Watch John try to persuade people not to vote for him while revealing as little as possible about the exact nature of his past misdeeds--oh, and how squishy he actually is. D:]

[voice post]

[Same noises of churning gears and endless ticking as in the previous post.]

I hate this fucking City. I hate these fucking gods. I hate this fucking clock.

I want my bleeding cigarettes--

What's this?

Ha. I knew I'd find something like this eventually. Dare I pull the switch? It might mean the end of the worlds, you know--well, if it does, I'll fix it then.

[Clunk.]

Is that it--

[Swish thwack thump.]

...Ha bloody ha.

[OOC: John pulled a dramatic-looking lever in what seemed like the center of the clock...and got snagged by a mysterious rope from behind, was flipped upside down, and found himself dangling from a tree in Xanadu. I'm kind of woozy tonight so I won't be responding to that many comments before going to bed, but I'll definitely get the rest when I wake up.]

If you haven't got booze, smokes, or offers of free wild sex for me, go the fuck away. This City's enough trouble already.

--I did what with Death? And a banana? Fucking Christ!

[voice post]

So now the City thinks it can placate me--or at least the rest of you poor bastards--with pretty flowers. Hah. Fat lot of good that'll do.

And why is there a sodding doll outside the door?

[Dragging noises.]

Hullo, I'll be using you as an ashtray tonigh--

Bloody fuck.

[Thud.]

[transmission ends]

[OOC: Tags will be responded to after midnight, when the killer dolls' victims revive. Cassidy is welcome to find John's body with the doll looming over it.]

Right, you lot, let's sum up.

So far in this sorry excuse for a City, I have:

Found out there was a previous version of myself who fancied a bloke with teeth for eyes.

Been chased through the streets by bloody great monster ghosts in huge ugly masks what thought they had what it took to eat my soul.

Nearly blinded meself trying to read the Network on sodding happy day.

Met a girl with her accent who twigged to me all too easy. Don't get too interested in her, son.

Been kicked in the bleeding face by some frantic redheaded bird for no reason.

And I've been here less than ten fucking days.

You ever get the feeling it'll all fade out, leave you in the black for a moment, then blinking your bleary eyes against a screaming headache and too much light? There've been more than enough times in my life that ought to have made me feel like that. But this is a new one, innit?

Wake up, John old boy. We've been laughing at you the whole time for falling for it.

But I can't really believe it's a dream. My dreams have more poor bastards I know, and fewer of them are alive.

[OOC: Strikes very hackable; John fails hard at technology. I'm at work for a while longer, so I'll be a little erratic in responding to tags.]

[accidental voice post]

Bleeding hell. My head.

For once, I'm sure it's not the sodding drink or even the magic but it's always something, innit--

...this isn't London.

Where the bloody fuck am I.

[end transmission]

Right. Now that I've got the fucking technology in this bastard place working the way it ought to--least as much as that shite ever does--someone tell me what this City is and why in hell I'm here.

I'm not ruling that one out, either. But this looks less familiar than Hell.

Yeah...I know.

[OOC: and let the abuse begin ♥ However, I will need to sleep at some point, so I may have to pick up some tags tomorrow. I'll get to it!]