Blood + Chrome: Philly 2066

Things took a turn.

I know it’s been a while since we talked, Rupert. Been a busy couple of days. Seems like things have just been spiraling wildly ever since that little arms deal I drove for a while back.

It was only a matter of time before I got pulled into the family business, I guess. Poppa Zak told me about Benjie, why he was coming after me and my friends. I had to burn the bar down to stop him. And now we’ve got this whole mess with Saewin, Scully’s old-school foe. Took some steps in that direction, got some backup in that respect. Looks like we’re allying with the Anarchs; it looks like Donald, Ginny, and their crew might just be strong enough to stand up against Walter.

In the meantime, the war between the Santinis and the Yakuza hasn’t gone well for anyone. I went to Dom’s ceremony with Johnny B and Oasis in tow, seeing as how we’re all looking for work. Dunno why I thought a mob inauguration would go smoothly, but we wound up staving off an assassination attempt or two. Johnny earned his keep getting the grunts away from Dom, but when I tried to silvertongue the capos, they just filed back out. Still, the fact that we tried to stick our neck out for the new Don made an impression; Dom made me his new Consigliere.

Still haven’t wrapped my fucking mind around that.

Anyway. Johnny trotted off to Germantown to get some work done. Medicine Men were everywhere, of course; didn’t take long before Oasis and I saw a few of them dragging a family out of a house with machetes and a shotgun. So we did the stupid thing and drove into them.

One high speed chase later and we’re cooped up at Oasis’, tending to the boy and his mother. She doesn’t look so good; gray patches and a dulled look in her eye. We’re waiting for word from Johnny; he said something about rats.

Dear Diary, I need a hot, hot shower.
Walter Wynne is a nasty bitch.

Dear Diary,

Time for some deep introspection. I haven’t used a diary in centuries, but I think after recent events it is wise to keep a log. Evidently I need reminders. Walter Wynne is NOT my BFF. Walter Wynne is a sick, little bitch. He’s the meanest of the mean girls. He’s Regina if fucking Regina morphed into a hideous monster and used the flesh of children to create the perfect feng shui for her bedroom. I need to wash these images out of my eyes. Where did I leave that acid?

I’ll back up. You need to know what’s what, Mister Diary. Sweet Mister Diary. Please take all my thoughts and keep them safe and remind me who my BFFs are in the future. I don’t want to be confused again.

It all started with Wesley telling me to reach out to Walter Wynne. He said Wynne wanted my help keeping an eye on Scully. Now, I had no intention of actually giving up Scully to Wynne, but I was going to milk this direct line to the powerful man as much as I could. Johnny and Scully both have their reasons for wanting to take down Walter Wynne. If I could help them, and fill any void that Walter leaves behind, then we’ll all be smiling cats. We fucking underestimated him though. He invited us to a party at his dope ass place, and to make a long story short I may have been dominated by him, shown his collection of human furniture, given up Oasis’ children so Walter should use their flesh, and aided him in hunting down my friends. You know, no biggie.. no biggie.. Just a minor boo boo. I like to Dominate fools. I do not like becoming the Dominated Fool. I was convinced he was my best friend, that he was the most majestic, charismatic, powerful friend a girl could have. All I wanted to do was please him. I was about to help him completely destroy the Camarilla and expose the Kindred to the human race so we could take our place as their masters. As appealing as that sounds in theory… I find it a bit distasteful, to put it mildly. Luckily, a Mr. Freeman came to my establishment and cleared my head and heart of Walter Wynne. That Freeman sure is a great guy. The greatest guy. He’s amazing. So whimsical. So fun. Hah! Oh, Donald.

Anyway, now I know what Walter Wynne and his associate Constantine are planning, and they don’t know that I am free of Wynne’s Dominate. They’re expecting me to keep Lonestar Security from crashing their embracing party at King of Prussia. I need to inform the Prince, ASAP. Walter Wynne is powerful, but is he more powerful than all the Camarilla?

Please keep me sane Mr. Diary.




Jawn Oasis Recap

The wife died. Johnny Buck sliced her arm off. She bled out. The kids watched. I tried to save her, but I failed, as I’ve failed her as a husband and provider. Creepy Face Vampire interrupted my bubble bath some hours before he laid the trap. He threatened me, sexually violated me, so I called the Yazuka again for help dealing with him. They failed me again. He kidnapped my wife and children on their way to the airport. The son of a gun wanted me to shoot my wife, but, fortunately, I’m a coward. Local goons aimed snipers at my family. Scully, Johnny, and Wally assisted helped me save my children. Wally learned that this vampire fuck is his uncle. He wants to save him, but he can’t be saved, according to Scully. I don’t know about any of this stuff. I thought a 1922 video I found documented this kind of vampire, but, apparently, it belongs to the German Expressionist school of film. If my grandfather was here, he’d help the helpless, he would’ve found a way to save my family in a tidy, largely blood-free fourth act, but I guess real life’s not a television show, is it. It’s more like a video game…

I don’t remember what happened after she died. Everything melted and blurred. I need to be alone for awhile. I need to find a safe place for my kids.

Help me, Cyborg Mark Twain.

For The Mysterious Stranger
Jawn Haiku

Must needs bring down Man
Instead I work for two mobs
What the fucking fuck?
-Oasis Shoestring Boreanaz

Agent RojeliOh!Oh!Oh!'s Secret Mission Log
(That is totally not a Space Diary)

Oh my, have I a story to tell you! Tonight, Diane Burwood called me to oversee the final Dropoff of people from the Medicine Men, and I asked Wendy Fuckin’ Walker to come with me for backup and the much needed moral support. For some reason I can’t remember, I really really needed her there.

Anyway, once we got to the drop-off point in Germantown, Wendy went up to her vantage point and I went to go square everything off with the Medicine Men Man. When I got closer, a little girl (who couldn’t have been older than little cousin Mah!de) ran out of the shipping crate! That lit my fires so much I would have turned red if I had pulse. Before I could say anything to M&M&M, he elbowed her across the face and threw her back into the crate.

“NO. NO NO NO NO NO. " I got right up in his face like I’d seen in the old Cop Marsflix, “Are you a gangster or a fuckboi? Gangsters do not hurt little girls!”

The part where it diverged from the Marsflix started when i got a close up 4D view of M&M&M’s pores getting “all up in my grill” ( i learned phrase that today) until I used my amazing powers of Persuasion to make him calm down and never strike a little girl ever again. He backed off, just in time for us to spot the truck coming down the road to pick up the shipment for EVO.

Only it wasn’t Steve, the worst undercover EVO agent ever (Ugh, Steve is just the worst! >.> ) but a bunch of Skinheads waving guns in the air! Satan’s Son and Harlots were coming right for us, so i expertly dove out of the way, and was only shot 3 times.

The battle was over as quickly as it started, as Wendy Fuckin’ Walker put a bullet right into the modified fossil fuel tank that all assholes love to have installed on their cars. The explosion was so bright, I almost forgot how terrified I’m supposed to be of fire (but i didn’t and curled up into a ball in the corner until the ringing in my ears stopped).

Anyway, the real truck (and steve, spacebarf) Diane was pleased with a successful drop, but I really hope EVO can do something to help that little girl. Diane gave me another job, to rescue some surgeon from the freakin Yakuza!

Wendy and I drove, and talked about nothing really important, at least I think so anyway. I expertly bluffed my way into the Yakuza headquarters under the guise of James, you-know from Ren Roku Megacorps. I made a guard hand over his basement keycard, and went down to the dungeons where i thought this doctor might be being kept.

Upon turning the corner, I saw a man trapped in a cell, naked as the day he was born, and being watched by man who wasn’t exactly paying attention to him. His communicator’s holo-display showed a 360 degree rendering of some hardcore, hardcore porn and his elbow moving quickly in short bursts.


The Yakuza really go for the lowest bidder, don’t they?

Apparently not as much as i had thought, because despite the load moaning/screaming pornography, he heard me step down the hallway and turned around.

I quickly activated my powers of charm, held up my hand, and told him “Just keep Jackin it, and everything will be fine.” The man stepped up continued to tug on his member, and pulled his gun out.

DROP THE GUN” I commanded, making sure to be more specific about what exactly i wanted him to drop. He dropped it, but kept coming for me, and throwing punches. I juked to the right as his left hand swung wide, knocking himself off balance, as his now-limp dick continued to be stretched by his right.

I grabbed the back of his neck and activated my stun, but the man was big and he shook it off. Behind me, the doctor broke free of his cell and punched him as well! I took a punch to the face and decided I’d had enough of this encounter.

SIT DOWN” I spoke as I glared into his mind. He sat and started to yell for help. I decided to go for a more complicated command. “You will tell no one about us, and will just say you were down here Masturbating and watching porn, getting a bit too into it.” He agreed, and in true Vampire-Batman fashion, I blended into the shadows, while the meat-beater’s coworkers dragged him away with his hand on his meats.

Doc Winter was quite grateful for the rescue, but not as grateful as Lu Chen, son of an old Triad boss and the nasty starved prisoner behind door number 2. He offered me a great deal of riches, which peaked my interest. Diane confirmed his identity, and Wendy helped carry him and helped us escape through the building under a shroud of shadows.

We all had Pizza Ramen at home for an authentic Chinese dinner until Diane came to collect Doc Winter and Luey. although i think she still owes me for the laundering costs of my date pants :(

Shortly after it was only me and Wendy left at my place (Which will be upgraded with all the money from tonight’s missions!!) I got a call from Walter (<3><3)>t I remember? I better keep this space diary mission log updated on a daily basis, I have to figure this out.

Secure Vault 35109 (Adventure Log 2)
Only to be opened in the event of Ethan Winter's death

To whom it may concern:

If you are reading this, I’m dead. If I’m not, you shouldn’t be reading this. But if I am dead, it’s probably some horrible bloody end. And It’s probably Dominic Palumbo’s doing.

It was a slow night at the shop, so I called it quits early. I hadn’t had a chance to pick up more whiskey after that jackass decided he liked it better than anesthetic for god damned heart surgery. What a fool. No whiskey in the shop, so I went down to Lucky’s. Wallace Zhang‘s not a bad kid, and its a good place not to be bothered. Everyone in there’s looking to get away from one thing or another.

I sat there sinking back drinks with Wally. That boy knows how to hold his liquor. He would knock one back and then go pour five more drinks for customers, never spilling a drop. The TV’s were on various channels like usual. I don’t often pay attention to the sports or the news, but all at once every channel was playing the same thing. An Emergency Broadcast of a mushroom cloud down in the middle of the city.

Everyone was glued to the TV. Even this mangy group of thugs and lowlifes were horrified by the footage. Wally got a call and I couldn’t help but overhear him talking to Dominic. It was obvious that he was freaking out. I figured the Santini’s must have something to do with the blast, but it wasn’t until I heard him mention the Yakuza that I realized the I had something to do with the blast.

Drunk as I was, it dawned on me that the explosion must have been that thing I put in Ryu Arakida‘s chest. That damned fool. I knew it wasn’t anything good but I didn’t think he was this stupid. I should have asked more questions. I should have known better. I shouldn’t have been so damn greedy. Now all those people are dead and soon the Santinis will be after me, if they aren’t already.

I was piss drunk, but I knew the Santini thug at the bar was eyeing me. He must have gotten word from his bosses that they were looking for me. I headed towards the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I opened the window and thought about pulling myself through. But I was too old and too drunk to be able to pull that off. So instead I hid, trying to catch whoever came through the door by surprise. I guess my drunken hiding wasn’t as good as I thought, because soon the thug busted in the door and saw me straight away. He pulled me out into the street and threw me down in front of Don Vince Santini himself.

The Don was pissed. He was shouting at me, blaming me for what had happened. I tried to explain myself. I tossed my gun down on the ground so he knew I meant no harm, but he wasn’t having it. Two of his men grabbed me and yanked my pants down. The Don told them to get pliers and rip my balls off.

At that moment, two modded Yakuza cars came peeling around the corner, already shooting. The Santinis returned fire and I threw myself to the ground, trying not to catch a bullet. As I crawled out of the fray I felt a blast and felt heat on my face. The Yakuza hot rods blew up one after another. Those damn cars were never meant to run on gas. I guess they couldn’t take a few bullets.

After all the shooting and the explosions, almost everyone in the street was flat on the ground. I thought I would have a chance to get away, but the Don pulled me up by my collar. He pointed a gun in my face, but he looked like he was barely able to stay upright. He was losing more blood by the second and couldn’t afford to lose much more.

He was furious, but I was able to convince him to let me patch him up, as I tried my damnedest to get on his good side, if only to dodge one bullet. I managed to stop the bleeding and get him stable, but as soon as I did, Dominic came around the corner into the alley and shot the Don right in his god damned face.

Session 4W

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You’d think piggybacking Oh!wen’s deal with the Medicine Men and a leisurely drive through Germantown would be the craziest shit that happened tonight, right?

Goddamn it, Rupert. The Sprawl gangs always managed to keep it relatively chill because the Santinis and the Yakuza kept an accord. The two strongest arms held it together. But this? A nuke popping off downtown? Gunfire in the streets? This shit’s streets behind.

I killed someone. Gungnir and Mjolnir, I killed someone. I don’t know what I was thinking – the Santini boys were getting slaughtered, caught out in the middle of the street like that, and the Yaks showed up… shit fuck goddamn it I don’t KNOW I just snapped my fingers and BOOM. Fuck fuck fuck. This is what Poppa Zak warned me about. He told me what it’s like to have this… thing, this talent. To know that if I sneeze funny or snap my fingers when I’m mad, people can die.

I gotta control myself. I gotta stay out of this. I can’t do this, Rupert. I can’t just kill.

I gotta control myself.

Session 3W
Well, shit.

I don’t know, Rupert.

You know I like to keep a low profile. I barely have the wherewithal to keep Poppa Zak’s bar running. Stay on the down low, don’t raise any eyebrows, and you can keep on keepin’ on, right? If all you are is a harmless drunk, you keep the targets off your back.

Maybe I shouldn’t’ve let Johnny stash that thing in the place. Meetings are one thing, but stashing goods is a step too close to being a hot zone. Should’ve paid closer attention, but Oasis was running his mouth again. It’s getting worse. I lost my head when some guy pulled a piece on that seabreeze-drinking bastard, did something that I shouldn’t have.

Good thing Scully rolled up when he did. I’m starting to figure out how he patches people up – it’s not hard, and it’s stuff Nana Fawn taught me, but I feel like I smoked enough of that out of my head that I need a refresher course.

And hell, that was just last night, Rup. Tonight was a doozy. Scully asked for help – a wheelman for something that might get him closer to that thing he’s looking for. I played the bored card, but it’s tough, y’know? Poppa Zak always said you gotta watch out for the good ones, help them keep what keeps ‘em human. If I were in Scully’s shoes, I’d need all the help I could get.

It was a handoff for that thing Johnny B brought over. Got to meet the Madame for once, after hearing about her from fifty different angles already. I figured she was kin, and sure enough. We headed out to the ‘Borough for the drop – easy enough until the Medicine Men showed. That Mr. Shakes, man – I don’t like how he keeps turning up. We beat fleet feet.

I’m worried about Jaxxon, Rupert. He keeps skitting off, and that Shakes guy keeps coming in to talk to him.

Well, the rest, you were here for, huh? Scully came over, we took a look at what he’s found. Wynne’s in town. In reach. And he’s got deals across the board. I reached out to Dom; he’ll get back to me with what he can ear up. Sounds like next step’s this Succubus jawn next Saturday, maybe get a lead on Scully’s boy.

Fuck all, Rupert. I don’t like the sound of this. Too many pies, and my finger keeps getting jammed in ‘em. But hey, that’s the sun pokin’ through the blinds. Time to pass the fuck out.

Session 2
Terse Negotiations

//EVO EXEC. DIANE BURWOOD, AUDIO LOG (11:31:05/24-05-2066)

Diane Burwood. May 23rd, 2066. I….

Wait…. Coffee.

Fuck. I need coffee.

Footsteps fading away. Sound of door opening.

Sound of door closing. Footsteps fading in.

Sipping sounds.

That’s better.

Okay, where was I…? Right. Oh!wen.

Oh!wen is proving to be an effective negotiator, despite my initial objections to him being too soft … an objection I still hold, in fact.

But it must be said that he did a fine job negotiating with Mr. Shakes, the representative with the Medicine Men, regarding our recent deal with them. We were unable to record the negotiation between our representative and theirs due to the anti-surveillance technology used on the second floor of Lucky’s, and therefore lack the exact details. But I can assure you the deal has gone through, and Oh!wen plans to meet with the Medicine Men tonight to exchange the six PanaC crates for no less than fifty people—exactly as many crates we were willing to spare. No more, no less. (Though they have to be outfitted with fake trackers now, thanks to a bluff Oh!wen used.)

As Oh!wen was already at Lucky’s, I decided to pass on his next assignment to him: to shadow Wallace Zhang that night and report back.

As you may already know, we highly suspect Mr. Zhang of being REDACTED as well as REDACTED. Though we already have surveillance watching Mr. Zhang, I wanted to see if Oh!wen could pick out anything surveillance might have missed. After all, if vampires can naturally compensate against photography and video recording technology with their whole … blurry thing, then who knows what the hell a REDACTED might be able to do if you got a camera turned on him?

Oh!wen tracked down Mr. Zhang to Chinatown, to some sleazy Triad-owned brothel called Mama Jinu’s. He was picking up a package for one Dominic Palumbo, a Santini big shot.

Well, would you believe me if I said the package wasn’t so much a package as it was some drugged-out junkie girl? Intel tells us Wally is supposed to be a pretty straight-laced guy. Generally keeps his hands clean, despite the crowd he runs with, and seems to be nice enough in person.

But after tonight I’m not so sure. We’ll have to get some more eyes on him.

Oh!wen continued to follow Mr. Zhang down to an augmentation shop run by a man by the name of Ethan Winter. Mr. Winter is former military and holds strongly anti-corporate beliefs, something we need to keep a close eye on. Still, it doesn’t stop him from performing black market augmentations for gangs and other miscreants after his shop’s closed to the rich kids who want cat eyes. So typical: he’ll rage against the machine, even as he suckles from its fat teat. What a blockhead.

Naturally, being an old crank with as much spine as a jellyfish, Mr. Winter didn’t seem to mind giving the “package” Mr. Zhang was lugging around the bunraku implant, so long as it involved cold hard cash.

Though the girl got the implant, Mr. Zhang and the Santini capo seemed to have come to a deal where the girl would work as a snitch for the Santinis rather than be forced to work in one of their meatpuppet parlors for a year, on the condition that if she slips up, it’s right off to the parlors.


Well, if Mr. Zhang isn’t a REDACTED, then he’s clearly a fool. He tries his white knight act with this one girl, and yet he’s still buddy-buddy with the Santinis, who have most definitely pulled this kind of shit time and time before? Absurd.

Of course, it was around this time that Oh!wen failed me, as he was unable to keep his investigation a secret from Mr. Zhang.


Just when I was thinking maybe that Martian isn’t the biggest idiot around….

Regardless, because he did so well earlier that night, I decided to give him another chance—by letting him handle the deal with the Medicine Men himself. He’ll be meeting them on their turf to exchange the goods later this week. He’s apparently bringing some muscle, as well as some vampire girl I don’t have much intel on. (Her name is Margaux Menage, apparently … it must be some kind of pseudonym.) He asked that Ethan Winter fellow to join in, but that augmented buffoon seemed to think it was too beneath him, what with his “principles” and whatnot.

At any rate, it’s a pretty simple assignment … but, knowing Oh!wen, something’s just bound to go wrong.

Sigh. Long sip.

Here’s hoping that little Martian moron doesn’t screw it up….

Session 1
Trouble at the Docks


Why the fuck did I let Johnny talk me into this? He made it sound like it’d be simple. A quick job. In, out. Why did I indulge that poor schmuck? I could have just let him go out on his own. It’s to support HIS fucking drug habit. Ennui is not a reason to get involved in a felony and fuck with the corporations. I don’t have enough political capital yet to risk entanglement in some fucking junkie’s stupid fucking cash grab.

Now don’t lose your cool, dear. Keep your composure, everything is just fine. Someone needs a relaxing cup of chamomile blood. No one saw your face. Be sensible. Go over the details. Ahem. The only people involved were Johnny, Zavier, and that gorgeous kindred boy Scully. You know you can trust Johnny. He was the one to get you involved, he will do what it takes to keep you out of it. Zavier’s will is weak, for the most part. He can be controlled. Scully on the other hand.. Perhaps we should keep that one close. Wouldn’t want him tattling on us. Now think about the details.

Where did Zavier get his information? Who were the men at the docks working for? What’s in the crate? I hope this Wallace character doesn’t cause us any trouble. I hope he helps us with whatever is in this crate. What the fuck are we going to do with our fucking hostage? I hope Scully gave up on saving that miserable fuck. Maybe he bled out and they dumped his corpse. We can’t have all those deaths come back to Club 42. I’m still trying to make friends, not form enemies yet. That comes later. That comes when I have the power and control to handle enemies.


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