[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).]

If I were a less cynical bloke, I might be asking why everyone in this City lets the deities get away with bollocks like yesterday's curse. Too bad I already know: because everyone's too bloody scared and apathetic to do shit about it. Easier to stick your brain-damaged heads in the sand, wait for the next curse, and pretend it won't be as bad.

Too bad for you I haven't got the slightest intention of following your lead. The gods here haven't learned that if you want to run a hateful, hurtful world, you'd better do it from the shadows and the sidelines so no one can come after you and make you pay.

Oh, and for the rest of you. I've heard a little something about eating souls?

You can try mine, but you'll be puking it out in the gutters after the first bite.

That shit is tainted.

[OOC: Strikes are internal monologuing. Feel free to poke him with ex-characters for the curse.]

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:]

Right, so it turns out my inner child's a horrible little brat. Who's surprised? Anyone? I didn't fucking think so.

I've had enough of these bloody curses. It's time to say fuck this City and its little gods too. Fuck them all, right in their smallest and least lubricated holes.

Bleeding buggering bastard Christ. You don't get to toy with people like this, you shits!

[OOC: John isn't saying it, but he's especially angry today because he's been hit with the memory theater curse. His Network presence is warded to hell and back, so while the magically inclined can tell that something's up, it would take some heavy-duty spell-busting to get through to the memories. That, or running into him in person. And he's hiding. But you're welcome to try to lure him out.]