I pull up an hour or two later, the club hopping a bit more, but not like it had been in the days.

I walk in, looking at the keep,"What it is my man, I needs a suds," looking around for Hellfire.

Usually it never works, he spots me minutes before I reciprocate. He is sneaky like that, guess thats why he found me amusing to begin with.

The majority of the lust worthy clientele have been meticulously converted to manchurian cantidate spies. Unknowingly scouring the watering holes of the city for the Camarilla whelps. Sure it makes buisness ugly, but its better for the big picture.

Hellfire had been watching Stevie from the corner, near the cavelike entrance to the devils den. When Stevie inevitably spots him he will be waved over.

'That was quick. No snags i presume?'

 "Shit, like it was nothing. Bumped into the fuckers and by the end they were ready to sign me up as a supplier. So I figure its win win. Did have to part with my crank, so I gotta go to little Haiti after this, but that's the price you pay on the Wheel of Fortune. Now if that dirty ass Vanna would get to her knees I'd be a happy Indian," in a psychotic cadence.

"So whats the plan El Capitan"

'Your going to juice up and cool off...'

Hellfire says, pointing over Stevies shoulder at an inebriated blond in the cavelike den who looks ripe for stress relief and burning off excess potence...

'Then ill give you a list of addresses. We need some repeat performances.'

 "Hell yeah, boozed up hookers, the other white meat," as he starts toward the blonde.

"Don't run away baby, Stevie's got all you need right here. So you ever hear of a dirty sanchez..." and begins with the sex and works back to the foreplay. Just like a pirate.

After he works through a few things and has rubbed himself and her raw he gets back into his clothes. He heads back into the boss' office room,"She's so fucking nasty, you wouldn't believe what that bitch wanted me to stick where. I mean I fucked her and it was good and all, but still shit no one I can kiss after all that. I feel like some sort of gynodentist man. What are they called?" looking to Hellfire to explain the crazy away.

Hellfire is lounging like the degenerate thug he is on his weird throne-like booth. He looks flushed, and is slowly twisting a black bladed knife into his wrist. His near black blood drizzling into a metal cup balanced on the arm.

Stevies fix before hes sent out again. keep him loyal, keep him strong.

'Sometimes i want to rip your tongue out, Stevie.'

Hellfire warns, hes always moody when he bleeds. If Stevie approaches he is liable to get stabbed. Hellfire levels his eyes on him.

'The places you will be tagging are strongholds for the enemy. Some of them far less obvious than others.'

 I stop in my tracks, Hellfire sounds pissed, but he usually is.

He nods and purses his lips in a grimace,"Stormin the castle, no prob. Ain't no sweat, I been runnin and gunnin for years and the guns here need a few rounds every once in a while," as he kisses his flexed biceps.

"So these any famous places? I been wantin to tag that sulky bitch in the statue garden for years. Her ass just cries for a proper orifice. That would be some prime real estate."

Hellfire just stares, as is fighting back some terrible urge to crush Stevies skull. He pulls the tip of hte blade from his wrist and slips it back into his boot. His wrist heals within a few drops and he offers out the cup to Stevie.

'You can tag whatever you want, after you hit my list.'

Hellfire will review his list, to be sure he didnt forget anything from the manchurians...

The Red Zone-
Obvious enough, three of the strawberry types reported activity there.

The Art Museum-
No reports, but if stereotypes hold water, and they do, this will piss someone off.

The Winter Street park-
Homeless eyes are easy to reel in.

The Craftilea-
Odd, But a reliable source recognized someone he fucked while his wife was out of town.

The rest of the list is random bars and clubs up and down the rack, and a dozen manhole covers with metallic scratches on them scattered around the city...

 "Sure thing sir, man I been jonesing bad," seeing his elixir in his sights. He holds the cup for a moment,"Prost" before immediately downing it. He used to enjoy the flavor, back when he did not know it was blood and now its lost all its draw, well other then the magic superman powers and shit.

"Pow, damn that is the tonic for my gin right there," as he glances down at the paper, his eyes slowly getting back into focus. He takes a second to scan it before replying.

"I know a cat that works the Zone, the museum huh, that might be a trick, not that they can hold off solo though. Yeah that parks a shithole, man the city would pay me to paint over that heap. It's just a trash can waitin for a fire. Wow, a craft store no shit, guess you are right about the other side. I mean how bad ass can Aunt Bee get, don't you have to bring some apple pie and meet Barney Fife," as he nods. "Looks good, I can get this done. Might take a day or two to get all the well laid plans in order. I guess thats it till then," as he takes his thumbs and points them back to his chest,"I got your best man on it"

'Dont fuck this up shithead.'

Hellfire warns, shifting on his cold throne.

'I dont care how art fag or aunt bee these fuckers look, they will twist your shit up and if you lead them back here youll wish they had killed you first.'

Stevie knows just enough to be a liability. But pulling the manchurian trick on him would make him useless. Having no choice but to trust a juicebag, no matter how bound and fucked up, is not a comforting feeling.

"Think no more of it, I gotta plan. No one will see this shit coming, no one," as he heads out the door and back upstairs.

Now all he'll need are a few supplies, just a quick trip to the liquor store and Wal-Mart, its cookbook time.