#cp2077 fanfiction

[elvenbeard]

Shivers

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic

Summary: Kerry is stalked by all kinds of shadows while having to work on finalizing a new song. Some recent developments may be a literal ticket to kickstarting a final attempt of finding a cure for V. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 14/?, 7061 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V - notes at the end) >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

The black asphalt ahead flickered in the heat as Kerry sped along the ever-winding road south of Rancho. In the distance shimmered the old dam’s concrete walls, the faded “Petrochem” lettering gleaming in the sun. That’s where he was headed to, or rather, the viewpoint at the very top. V’s voice had been urgent on the phone, and so Kerry had dropped everything he’d been doing and jumped into his car. V often came here when he needed some distance to the city without truly leaving – or so he’d said when Kerry asked him about the place’s significance one time. Every time they came here to talk it was serious.

The tires of his Aerondight came to a screeching halt on the side of the road and Kerry jumped out of the car looking for V. He was hard to miss thankfully, the only person out here besides himself. V’s back was turned towards Kerry, one foot up on the low concrete barrier separating him from a deep fall down a coarse red cliff. He had his hands in his pockets and gazed across Night City, like a king watching his realm. The midday sun blinded Kerry at first, but it also made V seem even more majestic, even if somewhat unreal.

“Hey, I got here as fast as I could,” Kerry called over, began hurrying towards him, but there was no reaction at first.

“V?” he repeated out of breath.

Kerry was merely an arm’s length away from him, only just raised his hand to reach out, when an all too familiar scent crawled into his nose. He froze on the spot. It was as if time stood still, even the wind stopped and the city itself held its breath. Then V turned around, agonizingly slowly, sole scraping along the concrete as he pushed away from the low wall. He wore a pair of old red aviators and had a cigarette between his lips, Johnny’s favorite brand…

“Bit too late,” he drawled, his voice definitely V’s… but different, rougher, meaner. He threw the cigarette to the ground and drew his boot across it, leaving a black streak of ashes in the desert dust.

“V’s not here anymore.”

Kerry gasped and startled awake, stomach nearly turning. His skin was covered in cold, sticky sweat, his heart fluttered in his chest like a panicked, trapped bird. His chest… he realized an arm was loosely wrapped around him, a scratchy plastic cast with cold fingers poking out against his sternum. V was breathing against his back, deep and evenly. The horror of the nightmare finally began to clear up. The TV was still on, they’d fallen asleep halfway through a Bushido movie (one of the old classics). V was squished between Kerry and the backrest of the sofa, their legs entangled and V loosely holding on to him. Kerry was surprised he hadn’t woken him up as well, but he remembered now. Right before settling down here, V had taken another dose of Vik’s emergency meds – proactively, just to not have another attack throughout the night. He was pretty much medically knocked out cold. Regardless, only slowly and carefully, Kerry moved to turn around. He didn’t want to wake V after all by shifting too much, but he also needed to see him, see his face… actually, he wanted to hear his voice, too, have him reassure him once more, or a thousand times more, that it would all be okay in the end. But he refrained from trying to wake him up.

He lied back down, V’s left arm still draped across him limply, but now they were face to face. V’s expression was relaxed, he was deep asleep. Kerry reached up, lightly ran his fingers along the tattoo decorating V’s cheekbone and jaw, then gently brushed through his hair. V sighed in his sleep, and Kerry’s hand flinched back. But V didn’t stir, instead he just shuffled slighting, inching closer towards him in his sleep. This little instinctive movement tied Kerry’s throat shut real good. He lowered his hand to put his arm around V to hold him close, took in his scent and warmth. Focused on V’s breathing he closed his eyes again and tried to catch at least a few more hours of sleep as well. The sun would rise again soon enough.

The impressions from his nightmare accompanied him all morning. As they got ready together, during breakfast when V looked at his phone suspiciously often, during the tense car-ride to the hospital, all the way into the recording booth.

“Very good, Kerry!” Vicky praised him. With her, Kerry was sometimes not sure if she truly meant what she said or only said what he needed to hear to not throw the towel.

“You’ve really on fire today, I love to see it,” she added while pushing some buttons on her control panel, not looking at him, “Let’s do one final take, starting at ‘you like to remember’, alright?”

“Sure, yeah,” Kerry shrugged, the microphone in front of his face mocking him, “All the way through the chorus?”

Vicky gave him a thumbs up from the other side of the window separating them.

“Give it your all, one more time,” she encouraged him and smiled, white teeth stark in contrast to her deep red lipstick.

The metronome ticked in the first few beats, then the backing track started up again. Kerry found his way into the rhythm naturally, listened to his own guitar play, in his mind he could almost feel the strings vibrate under his fingertips as he played the chords, strummed the melody.

“Three, two, one…” Vicky gave him the cue over the audio track.

“You like to remember,” Kerry sang, giving it his all as instructed, and it was all he had left at this point. They’d been here since 10.30, recording almost non-stop, the same lines over and over again, until every note was perfect. Kerry didn’t even need or want perfect all that much. In the end the recording was mostly for the label, the medias. Later, live on stage this song would sound different every time. Each performance had its own distinct sound and soul, created anew by him and the crowd present that night, none would be like the other. It was one of a handful of aspects of making music that actually still hadn’t lost their magic over the decades.

But of course, it wasn’t that Kerry didn’t care for how he sounded on the record. Otherwise, he would’ve long called it a day, or probably recorded the full album already. Naturally he wanted to be proud of the final version, the one that would be played on the radio, the feeds, some kid’s old record player. Maybe this would be the first of his songs someone ever listened to. It had to leave an impact, carry a message. He had to put all his heart and soul into this final take for now.

“When every word poisoned your blood!” he continued with fervor.

The accompanying guitar track was heavy with melancholy and heartache, his own suffering of too many years gone by without a perspective poured into the chords. Kerry closed his eyes, focused on the rhythm of the bass that he’d wanted to be reminiscent of a heartbeat here. The producers hadn’t been sure about whether or not it would work in the end with the overall pacing, but it did, better than Kerry himself could have imagined. The steady “du-du-dum, du-du-dum” carried him through the next line of lyrics.

“I know you don’t wanna suffer,” he half-screamed, at his younger self, at his current self as well, really, “But this is something so much deeper!”

The guitar faded away for a few moments, and only the bass remained, steadily pulsating on. Kerry’s throat hurt, not from strain, but from emotion, threatening to silence him when right this moment his voice would matter the most. The volume rose in an epic crescendo, the beat took up speed and energy, like a wave steadily growing right before it would crash against the coast, paying no mind to who or what may be in its way. This tension of seeing the wave roll towards him, but at the same time being frozen in shock and awe at its enormous dimensions... He would seize Vicky’s suggestion and pour all his anxieties, fears, all his anger at the world into this fucking chorus.

“They’re shivers!” he belted out, surprised sometimes by what his voice was capable of, “They’re shivers, they’re shivers!”

He took a deep breath.

“My caresses are an act of violence!”

He pictured his fingers trailing along V’s sides. How he pulled him to his feet from the kitchen floor last night, then a flash… How he pinned him against the shower wall, or when he’d gently helped him into the passenger seat of his car outside of Arasaka Tower that night not even four months ago… A million little moments flashed before his eyes.

“Everything to you that’s holy – “he saw V’s smile, his eyes glowing golden in the morning sun, heard his laughter, saw him scrunch his nose and shake his head. He loved when V, otherwise so composed and stoic, made silly faces at Kerry’s jokes and teasing, or how his face lit up when they finally saw each other at the end of a long day… All the little mannerisms about him that made Kerry’s heart skip a beat usually – “gives you shivers, shivers, shivers!”

He drew out and held the last note for as long as he had air in his lungs, refused his voice to give in like it did during an earlier take. He poured his essence into this song so that part of him would always live on even when he was long dead and gone. The people should feel what he felt right now when they listened to this album, feel his love for V. Without him, he wouldn’t be standing here singing anymore.

As the music of the chorus slowly transitioned to the next verse, Kerry let his voice fade out along with it, only then he opened his eyes again. Vicky paused the backing track, slid her fingers across the control panel, then she looked up at him, bright green eyes gleaming with excitement.

“That was the one! Amazing work!” she praised, and Kerry shrugged and hinted a bow, playing it cool as if his chest wasn’t hurting, as if “Shivers” hadn’t just sent actual shivers down his spine. He’d had his struggles with this song, but it seemed like today he finally rediscovered his connection to it, found a reason as to why he had written it in the first place.

“We’re quickly gonna go through everything again and piece a demo together for you to have a listen,” Vicky said, “But damn, look at the time. Ya deserve a break!”

“Alright, preem,” Kerry said nonchalantly and exited the recording booth, “Imma go for a smoke, be back soon.”

“Sure, no rush!”

He grabbed his jacket from the sofa as Vicky and her team of sound engineers huddled together in front of her screen, then he left the room and turned right straight away. He was headed for the stairs to the roof. As always, there had been little to no reception in the booth, and he was immediately swamped by at least a dozen missed text messages and emails. He swiped all the ones that weren’t important away, as only one really mattered. Before entering the stairwell, he selected V's name and read through the two messages he’d sent him – not that long ago, thankfully.

11.27 a.m.

Appointment was interesting, to say the least. More only in person. She wants to do some preliminary tests today, more later this week. Gotta do some waiting atm. I’ll tell you everything once I’m out. Love you :*

2.06 p.m.

Finally outta here. You didn’t read my prev message yet, so you’re probably still in the booth, dw! I’ll call Del and be at the studio soon. See you on the roof. <3

It was just past 2.30 now, so unless the traffic was batshit, V was most likely already there. That certainly was the motivator Kerry needed to climb the narrow metal stairs of doom where MSM surely could’ve long invested in an elevator. There was one leading to the roof from the entrance lobby, just not from the booths for some reason – the reason being probably that guests deserved more luxury and comfort than the label’s talent and employees.

Kerry was greeted by a warm breeze as he opened the door to the rooftop lounge, and he didn’t need to look around for long to spot V. He’d once again pulled one of the unused lounge chairs from the bar-area to the railing and was looking across Charter Hill. For a split second the situation brought Kerry back to last night’s nightmare again, him out of breath, late for their meeting, and V gazing across their beloved city from far above. But other than in his dream V was facing him, and when he saw him walk out the stairwell, a little smile flashed across his face.

“Hey,” Kerry just said, and V slowly got up from his chair to pull Kerry into a quick hug as soon as he was in reach.

“Hey back at ya,” he said hoarsely, and Kerry chuckled. He pulled away only far enough to give V a quick kiss, brushing his thumbs across his cheeks. As usual lately V looked awfully tired and exhausted, and on top of it he didn’t quite seem to be able to hold Kerry’s gaze. That was never a good sign. Kerry’s chest grew tight once more, as if the wave had finally collapsed on top of him, had crushed his ribs and began to pull him into the open ocean along with the debris of his life.

“Bad news?” Kerry asked carefully, still out of breath, and V briefly looked at him. He put his hands on Kerry’s, as best as he could.

“Mixed news, rather,” he said, “It’s… a fuckin’ lot.”

V slowly pulled away and sank back into his seat. Kerry dragged another chair closer, right across from V, and also sat down.

“What did she say?” he asked, although he realized how vague of a question that was.

V crossed his legs and rested his head in his right hand, elbow propped up on the armrest. His eyes wandered to the ground, then were drawn back over to the city to his left.

“She seems quite confident that she can help me,” he explained, “Or well at least… she has a plan. Before making any promises, she needs to run more tests though. Got more appointments lined up the next few days…”

Kerry leaned forward, rested his elbows on his thighs, trying to catch V’s gaze from below now.

“What did she do today? Anything on the pills? Your… episodes?” he asked.

V didn’t reply immediately, picked every word carefully.

“Nothing concrete on the pills, yet. She’s gonna look at them later today or tomorrow. Promised an update as soon as she has one.”

He paused, and Kerry almost slipped off the edge of his seat from tension.

“About the attacks she said, after reading out my system, biomonitor, and so on, comparing Vik’s scans with hers… she can’t determine a definitive organic or technological source.”

Kerry continued to stare at V, who continued to not look at him, instead gazed into the distance, leaned back in his chair as if this wasn’t a major revelation. Although one Kerry wasn’t sure what to make of just yet, he just knew it was concrete and concerning alike.

“You… gotta explain that a bit more,” he then said, “Not sure I get it.”

“I’m not even sure I get it,” V shrugged and slowly turned his head back to finally face him again.

“She said, usually attacks like I had them have definitive organic causes, say… a tumor. Something that would show up on a scan one way or another, be it heightened brain activity in one area, or none at all, bleeding, you name it. But all okay in that regard, all things considered. Alternatively, the attacks could be caused by incompatible or otherwise faulty cyberware, but that’s not the case either. She said yes, my brain and nervous system are quite done for, thanks to the Relic and Dexter’s bullet. Brain’s also not being stimulated enough, because my engram is incompatible with it, so it’s kinda just… deteriorating more and more. Like a muscle you don’t use. That’s not exactly news, just confirming the situation is still bad.”

Kerry swallowed, and V took a deep breath.

“But my cyberware is working as normal, even the Relic is not acting up particularly. The brain damage alone, according to her, doesn’t explain these sudden and violent attacks.”

“’s it ‘cause the pills have been suppressing them, or…”

V shook his head, and Kerry frowned.

“She said, the degeneration that’s going on is actually not nearly as severe as it should be at this stage, ironically,” V said, “Fuentes said, if Alt told the truth in Mikoshi, and with how bad a state I was in back in June, I’d be a babbling mess already, or dead. She thinks the pills must’ve helped stabilize me in some way, slowed down the deterioration.”

“Okay…” Kerry nodded, still struggling to grasp this all at once. Even though it was a warm and sunny day he shivered. V was fumbling with his cast, in exchange for fumbling with his personal link port, what he usually did when he was nervous or otherwise intensely thinking about something.

“She confirmed what Vik said: there’s new connections where there were none a couple of months ago, which does not align with what a dying brain is capable of necessarily,” V continued, and again he turned away, “The severity and frequency of my attacks… She said something like that would happen at the earliest weeks after not taking any meds, and it would be a slow buildup, even in my state. Not this frequent and severe, after forgetting to take them once or twice.”

Kerry struggled to follow V’s explanations, couldn’t put together his calm matter-of-factness with the severity of the situation, the weight of the meaning behind his words.

“The… pills cause these attacks, even if you’re not takin’ them?” he concluded after a few moments of silence.

“Not the pills as such, I don’t think,” V shook his head, “Maybe the nanobots I still have in my body, or maybe my own, rewired nervous system, or a combo of both. Fuentes says it’s likely my own body is creating these as some kind of artificial, very intense withdrawal symptom. Like...”

V vaguely gestured into the air, towards the city, looking for words.

“Just how it’s natural to my body that I breathe without thinking, something was done to me that it’s now natural for me to almost die every time I forget to take my spiked pills. So, I continue to swallow them, so these nanobots can continue to… I don’t even wanna know.”

Kerry let himself fall back in his chair and looked up into the hazy blue sky. He was so out of it, so taken aback, he didn’t even want to light up a cigarette. He rubbed his face with both hands briefly, as if it would help rearrange the swirl of thoughts rushing through his head.

“Lemme just… process this for a second,” he said, “The pills helped you, but at the same time, the moment you stop taking them, actively kill you?”

“Again, not the pills as such. But I think the nanobots that were hidden in them may have rewired my brain to do that, yeah,” V said, tone still annoyingly calm. Meanwhile Kerry’s pulse had reached a new top speed. He sat up straight again and stared right at V, who was still leaned back, head in his hand, and watched the city traffic like this was a chill Sunday morning brunch.

“How can you be so… calm about this?” it finally burst out of Kerry, upset but at the same time also not wanting to be. He wasn’t even sure why he was so mad, he just hoped V would show a little more concern, more of a reaction about all of this. Instead, he just shrugged.

“I’ve been thinking…” he then slowly started, “Dunno. What if you’d just take me to the Philippines?”

Kerry’s heart physically skipped a beat, he sensed it, his Biomonitor even beeped a tiny alert again.

“The fuck do you mean?” he asked, again more harshly than intended, but V had knocked all air from his lungs with that question. V slowly turned to look at him again, and now Kerry saw that his eyes were teary, that that was the reason he had avoided to look at him. All of Kerry’s anger was gone in an instant.

“Vince,” he said, grabbed his chair and scooched closer, close enough so their knees touched now. He reached over to take V’s injured hand gently, held it between his palms. V looked away again.

“Talk to me,” he said, “What else did she say? What happened?”

V took a deep, shaky breath.

“I gotta do her a favor,” he said, “Well… it’s more or less a necessity, otherwise she probably can’t help me.”

“A favor?”

That could mean many things, but given V’s line of work, Kerry had an idea.

“She wants to see a man dead,” V confirmed it, “And he’s got some blueprints for a tech that might be able to save me. Might, maybe. If I even manage to get to him which is…”

He just stopped and shook his head, shifted in his seat, and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Is it ‘cause normally you don’t take hit-jobs?” Kerry wondered out loud and V laughed weakly.

“Y’know, in this case, I might’ve considered it. Even if my life didn’t depend on it, I mean,” he said and lowered his right hand, placing it on Kerry’s’ in his lap.

“Guy’s a corpo shitbag – and not the kind I might’ve been able to relate to at some point. The type that stabs friends in their back for personal gain,” he said, “Problem is… he fucked out of Night City, off all of planet Earth four months ago.”

“He wha- …” Kerry started, but V’s sad, exhausted eyes answered his question before he’d fully asked it, “Not the fucking Crystal Palace?”

V shrugged… then he nodded.

“You’re jokin’…”

“When Fuentes told me his name, I thought I’d heard it somewhere before, and she said, no, can’t be,” V said, “But yes, I had… I’d read it on the list of people’s data I was supposed to steal for Blue-Eyes. He’s got a luxury apartment up there.”

“What the fuck…”

Kerry had no other words to describe what he was feeling.

“It’s like all paths always circle back to Blue-Eyes,” V said, looking across the city again, “He poisons me with his tech, sends me on a suicide mission to space to steal data about his own business partners, holding the key to some fucked up new way of eternal life most likely…”

“Wait, what was that about business partners?” Kerry interjected.

“Ah yeah, right,” V laughed wearily, “Missed that part… Fuentes showed me a vid of that guy she wants dead, meeting up with Blue-Eyes. She thinks he sold him some top-notch secret tech – the same tech I’m supposed to kill him for in his space-mansion.”

So, this was what it felt like to drown in a flood of information.

“Fuckin’ hell, V, I…” he mumbled, “Dunno what to say.”

“’s okay,” V said quietly, thumb circling Kerry’s knuckles, “I dunno what to say to this mess anymore either.”

He let his head fall back against the headrest of the chair, still looking across the city. Finally, Kerry followed his gaze. The sleek, clean apartment-blocks with dainty rooftop gardens of Charter Hill next to Japantown’s bustling high-tech, neon-clad skyscrapers. The city center with the towers at Corpo Plaza looming in the distance, stark in contrast against the pale sky, dozens of little AVs zooming between them all like flies around a rotting corpse.

“Either,” V said eventually, “I find a way into space, again, and this time with the added difficulty of Mr. B not noticing anything about it – good luck, with his ties to Orbital Air… I somehow manage to get a hold of the corpo guy, klep his data, make it back here in one piece… And hope that Fuentes is able to do anything with it at all...”

“Or you omit all of that and go back to Blue-Eyes right away…” Kerry guessed what V was about to say next. V didn’t look at him, just nodded.

“I’m surprised he didn’t call yet, to pester me about coming back, reconsider his generous offer,” he spat out. Then he looked back at Kerry, eyes glittering in the sunlight.

“Which is why I think…” he said, hoarsely, “Is it even gonna be worth it?”

“Vince…”

“No, really, if we’re both completely honest to ourselves… Is it really worth it?” V said, and Kerry reached up to cradle his face, scooched closer first, then finally just got up to sit down on the same chair as V, at his side properly, putting his arms around him to hold him, trying to soothe him somehow as he started shaking.

“I could just stock up on all the meds Vik can get his hands on,” he continued quietly against Kerry’s shoulder, “And you take me to the Philippines, and I’ll see how long I’ll last. No Blue-Eyes, no more games, no more tech or chips or whatnot trying to kill me faster than my own body is.”

Kerry held him even closer.

“It’s just gonna be us, and I’ll just slowly fade away, on my own terms,” V shuddered, as did Kerry.

“’s that what you want?” Kerry almost didn’t dare to ask, choking up. At the same time V’s voice, his pain was so raw, so visceral in this moment, it was impossible to come up with a counterargument. There was nothing Kerry could say against wanting to die on your own terms when all the terms attached to living were incompatible with who you were as a person.

The wind took up speed, stirred up some dust, howled around them for a moment, as if to sympathize with a situation that was truly only to scream about. Then V leaned into Kerry’s embrace finally.

“No,” he said quietly, “I wanna live. I wanna grow old with you but… All paths there seem impossible to survive.”

Kerry moved away just far enough to see V’s face again, and it always broke his heart to see him crying, as he didn’t often, especially not in public. Just tears quietly streaming down his face, no sniffling, or shudders – even now he so desperately tried to keep himself under control.

Kerry was surprised he wasn’t crying yet, even though he sure as hell felt like it. Maybe he was still too spent from the night before. He wished for nothing more right now than a peaceful future where neither of them had to cry and suffer anymore. On the other hand, though, seeing V emotional like this, was confirmation enough for him that he was still so full of life, not consumed by the apathy with no dreams or wishes or perspective for a future.

He reached up to gently brush away V’s tears, then he kissed his forehead. Hand still on his cheek he looked him in the eyes.

“I want that more than anything,” he said, “And hell, we’ll make it possible somehow.”

V closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his head against Kerry’s chest. Kerry folded his arms around V’s shoulders and held him like this, his chin on his head, looking into the distance and trying to come up with a solution to a seemingly impossible problem.

For a couple of minutes, they just sat like this, squeezed onto the chair like they’d been squeezed onto the sofa the night before, holding each other close. Kerry let his thoughts wander as he watched the ever-changing slideshow of huge ads displayed across the skyscrapers ahead. A lot of them near the studio were obviously MSM-themed, new album releases, teasers for tour dates, collabs… he was there too, along with the UsCracks girls. “Off the Leash” was still at the top of the charts, four months in a row soon. Kerry’s career really had lifted off out of nowhere again, all thanks to V… and suddenly he realized he might be able to return the favor.

“I mean…” he slowly started, “Lee’s been dying to get me a gig at the Crystal Palace. And he still owes us both big-time for the shit with the pills.”

V said nothing at first, then he moved to see Kerry’s face, squinting and nose scrunched up as if he was trying to determine if he was joking or not.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Kerry said, “I mean it.”

“You mean, I’m s’pposed to just… tag along with you to your gig and while you’re on stage go off to murder that guy? And no one’s gonna bat an eye?”

“No,” Kerry said, “You’re gonna do it before my show. Don’t want you to miss the opportunity to see me live.”

Kerry was aiming to bring V’s smile back with a little teasing, but it sadly didn’t work.

“Kerry, this is serious,” he said with the deepest frown, “I can’t just… the security up there is insane. What am I gonna do, hide in your luggage and you smuggle me in?”

“No, you gonk,” Kerry said and poked V’s chest, “You’re gonna come officially. As my partner, as ya fuckin’ should be allowed to. Hell, if you’re so keen on keeping a low profile, come as part of my security team and personal bodyguard. But I’d much rather finally tell the medias the truth before they pull even more stupid lies and rumors outta their asses.”

V wasn’t convinced.

“If something goes wrong,” he said, eyes dark and serious, “How’s that gonna look like to the medias? ‘Kerry Eurodyne secretly involved in international murder plot’. Your career’s gonna be over.”

“Ah, wouldn’t bet on it,” Kerry shrugged it off, although obviously, the thought had crossed his mind. He just didn’t want to give into V’s worries, convinced that, with all they knew, they might as well be rooted in Blue-Eyes messing with his brain. He’d said himself that he didn’t feel like himself anymore sometimes, that whenever Mr. B called, his sense of self-preservation was switched off. He’d launched himself into space for that fucker, gone on a suicide-mission, V’s own words just minutes ago. But now, when this gig was something clearly going against what the blue-eyed bastard would want, V suddenly had never-ending doubts and hesitated, feared for consequences that previously hadn’t crossed his mind.

“Sometimes a tragic scandal can really spur on a career even more.”

“Kerry, this isn’t funny,” V said, growing annoyed, and Kerry gently stroked his cheek.

“Sorry,” he said, “Yeah, it’s not. None of this is.”

He took a moment to choose his next words carefully.

“No pressure, okay? Just sayin’… there’s always a way. And I’ll gladly be your vehicle to that damned space station, however you want it to go down in the end. If it means one less hurdle on the way to a cure. On the way to get the chance to grow old together.”

Finally, V’s expression softened a bit again.

“You think I should go for it?” he asked.

“You don’t need my permission, Vince,” Kerry chuckled softly, thumb against V’s chin, tracing the fine black tattoo reminiscent of wings decorating it, “I just know, if someone could pull it off, it’s you. Never met anyone as strong-willed, not even fucking Johnny Silverhand. So, no… Not gonna take you to the Philippines… unless it’s to celebrate the end of my successful world tour and you being free of any pain and other symptoms for at least a year.”

V sighed but smiled.

“Honestly, just tempted to say yes because I wanna see you try and convince Lee of this being a good plan.”

“Ha!” Kerry laughed, “Way ahead of ya. Gonna beat the fucker in his own game by making him believe he gets everything he wants when in fact he’s just a means to an end.”

V raised his eyebrows.

“Wow, look at you scheming like a professional… I’m impressed.”

“Learned from one of the best,” Kerry said with a wink, and now V finally smiled and let himself be guided into a brief kiss, both of them still side-by-side on the lounge chair on the top of the MSM studio roof. Kerry had almost forgotten that he was here to work, actually.

“Fuck… how long we been here now? Don’t wanna go back down,” he sighed, now the one to cling to V the same way he had clung to him this morning. V held him, caressed his head, hand coming to a halt at Kerry’s shoulders to massage him gently.

“Didn’t go well today?” he asked.

“No, it did, actually,” he admitted, “But still.”

“Want me to come down with ya?”

Kerry laughed quietly.

“Almost thought you’d say, ‘want me to go down on ya’, and I wouldn’t say no to that either.”

V snorted and pushed him back playfully.

“You’re so stupid,” he snickered.

“Hm-mh. But I’m your stupid.”

V shook his head and smiled, gave Kerry another quick kiss, then slowly detangled himself from their embrace.

“C’mon,” he said holding out his hand, and together they went back down to the recording booth.

V kept his promise of being all Kerry’s for the remainder of the day. Even though, obviously, while Kerry was in the booth again for final revisions, V was on his phone a lot, planning the upcoming days for sure. When they left the studio together much later, the sun beginning to set, one big looming goal was finally crossed off Kerry’s personal to do list though: Shivers was finished.

“So proud of you,” V whispered as he kissed Kerry in the elevator taking them down to the parking garage. Kerry grabbed on to his waist and held him close. He half hoped for an encore of their latest elevator and parking garage escapades, but V withdrew again when the doors opened with a soft “ding” at the very bottom. V seemed to have the same thought though.

“Not yet,” he just whispered against Kerry’s neck, riling him up even more. Kerry grumbled but then put his arm around V and walked him to his car.

“How are you feeling now that it’s finished?” V asked as they were already on the road back to Watson, “And what’s gonna come next? Never been through the whole album release pipeline before.”

Kerry honestly wasn’t quite sure how he felt. Even though he would’ve preferred to finalize another song first over Shivers, he’d had been working on this forever, the first notes and lyrics coming to him at one of his lowest points the previous year. Long before he even knew V existed. And yet, their so far brief but even more so intense time together had tremendously shaped this final version of the song. Kerry tapped the steering wheel a couple of times, the bass line still on his mind, as he joined the evening rush hour traffic against his better judgement.

“Pumped, for sure. Relieved a bit, maybe…” he said, and threw a quick glance over at V, and their eyes met. V nodded and smiled gently. He got it, he got him. Without having to explain it any further, not asking any questions that only would’ve planted further doubts into his mind. Kerry’s heart made a little leap.

“The studio bosses usually throw a big party or somethin’ for this occasion?” V then asked and Kerry chuckled.

“Can bet your ass on that,” he said, “To stroke their own dicks in front of everyone, mostly. Prolly on Friday or Saturday, if nothing else is up already. And next week, well, the usual interviews and stuff… And there’s already plans for a music video!”

He bit his lip and looked at V briefly.

“If I get a say, it’s gonna be a bit different, too.”

“Oh, in how far?” V seemed genuinely intrigued.

“I’m picturing something simple, black and white,” Kerry explained his vision, “You know, raw, bare to the bone. Some sick closeups, playin’ with light and darkness. Lifting the fog and shadow of what was and revealing the new me. An opener for the whole album in multiple ways.”

V listened attentively.

“Sounds damn preem,” he then said, his injured hand coming down on Kerry’s thigh a little awkwardly, “Rootin’ for ya that you’ll get to do all that you wanna do with it. Also damn, always here for sick closeups.”

Kerry reached down to hold V’s hand as best as he managed.

“Even though you get sick closeups of me all day, whenever you want?”

“Can never get enough of you. And I love seein’ you on the big screens in the city, knowing that even though you’re everywhere out there, for the whole world to see, you’re also only mine. And I’m one of the few people that get to see the real you every day.”

Kerry tried to squeeze V’s hand, but the cast stopped him once more.

“Fuck… can’t wait for that thing to come off, finally,” he muttered, and V chuckled.

“Appointment’s all set for that, this Friday.”

“Thank fuck…”

V laughed, but then his tone grew more serious again.

“On that matter… we might not see much of each other this week.”

Kerry’s heart, after being so light and at ease, sank like a rock now. The cityscape raced past them, a rainbow of bright neon lights all around as the sun began to set in the west behind them.

“Got pretty much all tests and stuff scheduled now, I’ll probably spend more time at the Med Center than at home this week. Not looking forward to it.”

“Fuck…”

“Mh-hm. And… I’ll look into that Crystal Palace guy, too. Rogue knows, Nix’ is onto his ass already, a few of the others, too.”

Their conversation earlier about the gig had trailed off, they hadn’t quite reached a conclusion yet.

“Good… we’re going through with it then?” Kerry asked, trying to downplay his tension as best as he could. He was sure they could make it work, somehow, but of course he also worried about the undoubtedly high stakes. But Blue-Eyes was off the table, and dying on the Philippines, too. Time was running out.

“We’ll have to be so fucking careful. Plan this thoroughly from start to finish,” V said sternly, then turned back to Kerry, “And I can’t do this without you. Not just the getting to and back from the Crystal Palace. We need to have a solid plan of action for while we’re there, too. So, if you got any doubts...”

“No doubts,” Kerry said before he even had the chance to second-guess himself, “I gotcha. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it.”

V took a deep breath, nodded, closed his eyes.

“Alright. Okay, good,” he said, “I’ll ask in some favors here and there. And I’ll gladly help you with Lee, if he’s being difficult about this in some way.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll handle that fucker alright,” Kerry promised, his anger about his manager still far from subsided, “But also… how do you wanna go about it now?”

“What exactly?”

Kerry’s heart began to race again.

“Like… you wanna come as my bodyguard or… a little more officially?”

Dreaded silence, my old friend.

Kerry gripped the steering wheel tightly as they took the exit to Watson, neon lights fading behind them now. How officially known they wanted their relationship to be, had always been one of, if not the touchiest subject between them. Whether or not they made it public now or not didn’t really matter all that much, in the grand scheme of things. But Kerry realized that it mattered a lot to him right now. V’s decision wouldn’t impact their relationship in any way, Kerry would continue to love him regardless. But he’d be lying if he didn’t have a clear preference that so far had been clearly different from V’s. Additionally, V being so closed off the last few weeks didn’t help keeping the nagging voice in the back of Kerry’s mind as quiet as he would prefer it to be.

“I think…” V said slowly, “We’ve been over this too often already. So, not gonna repeat my points.”

Kerry swallowed, his shoulders tensing up again.

“Alright,” he pressed through gritted teeth, trying his best to keep his tone neutral, not have his disappointment show.

“But…” V added after a short pause, “You also made good points…”

Kerry looked over at him quickly. V stared off into the distance, but quite deliberately was Kerry’s impression. His hand was still resting on his leg, he hadn’t withdrawn, as he so often did when it came to this topic. Kerry didn’t want to turn away again, but he had to keep his eyes on the road. One car accident per month was enough.

“Ah, I dunno,” V said quietly then, “Do it however you wanna. Whatever you think works best.”

Kerry needed a moment to let his words sink in.

“You’re leaving it up to me?” he made sure.

“Yeah,” V nodded and turned back to look at him. Not far ahead their building came into sight.

“I trust you. I love you. I’m scared, but also… sometimes you gotta risk something to win something, right?”

“Damn right,” Kerry nodded, smiled and took V’s hand again, “Thanks, V.”

V chuckled.

“What for?”

“Everythin’. Trustin’ me. Believin’ me. And in me. Love ya.”

“Love ya, too.”

*****************

>> Next Chapter

*****************

Notes:

Oouuuhhhh this one has also been in the works for a while and man, that opening scene with Kerry's nightmare has been on my "wanna write" list forever, so happy I can finally share it!!

Also yes, some of you guessed it already, we're gonna go to the Crystal Palace soon - again xD If CDPR don't release a Crystal Palace DLC in the style of Mass Effect's Citadel DLC I gotta write it myself smh, sorry, can't help it! XD

Requested Fic Update Tags:

@humberg @r3d-f0xs-blog @thatinternetwanderer @localtranspigeon @taiyo-yokai @kharonion @genocidalfetus @seeker-of-truth @readalotbook @losttr3asur3 @chromeaholic 💜

If you’d also like to get tagged when I post a new chapter for this fic, leave a reply on [this post] or send me a DM!

If you do not want to receive further tags, shoot me a quick DM and I’ll take you off the list again!

[foxs0x]

EXCUSE MY MESSY LINES!!!

I redrew the Kerry poster in the BG because his face was just all wrong 😂😂 I also changed the composition

Edit: just realised I forgot to draw V’s tattoos hahahah oops

This is some art for my own fanfic End Transmission

(Currently 16 chapter in and 42k words strong lol)

It takes place after Phantom Liberty, King of Swords.

Summary:

Stripped of his cyberware and grappling with a new reality, V finds himself lost, alone, and struggling to rebuild his life. Yet, he is not as alone as he thinks. Among making new friends and rediscovering who he is, Kerry hasn't quite forgotten about him.

A slow burn romance that parallels V's new life as he adjusts to a world that's moved on without him, against Kerry's turbulent career after it's taken off.

Read it on AO3: End Transmission

[fangbangerghoul]

WIP Folder Ask Game

I was tagged by @roguishcat

Rules: make a new post with the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous and tag as many people as you have WIPs. People send an ask with the title that most intrigues them, then you post a snippet or tell them something about it!

This game is a little wild ngl. Especially for writers who have a lot of WIPS lol

I''m going to start off by admitting that I am not as organized as to have ONE folder solely for WIPs lol

Normally I have my wips separated by fandom and whatever wip goes under that fandom I will throw in there.

Starfield WIPS

Godless Realm

Free at last

Cup Runneth Over

one offs

Baldur's Gate 3 WIPS

great fireballs of faerun

bog witch trials

My Time at Sandrock WIPS

Over Exposure

Stalker Pen

Dragon's Dogma 2 WIPS

dd2 snip

Voracious Oblivion

Dragon Age: The Veilguard

Elgara Vallas: This City is a Graveyard

Elgara Vallas: Out of Time

Cyberpunk 2077

Fuck you, Pay me/I didn't steal your fucking bike

These were all the ones I could find on my computer. There are a ton in my notes app on my phone as well but I am not going through that as well lmfao. 13 is enough.

Tagging with no pressure:

@bearlytolerant @ronqueesha @crystal-overdrive @therealgchu @atonalginger @staticpallour @lisa-and-shadow @ellstersmash @eridanidreams @lyriumrain @lucaanis @awardenandacrow @blightedcrow

[fic--writer]

A snippet from an upcoming fic

Fandom: Cyberpunk 2077

Pairing: Viktor Vektor/Fem!V

Warnings: Strong language

Message from Jackie to Viktor Vektor:

"Hey, Doc. Is it just me, or does our kiddo have a crush on you? Do what you want, of course. But, por favor, be nice to her. Remember that she's my dear choom and deserves respect. Comprende?

P.S. You'd have to be an idiot to pass up a juicy chica like this."

"Jackie, you're right, she's our kid. But I am only fit to be her dad. And when you reach a certain age, you throw away all illusions. From then on, life gets easier."

"Illusions? Didn't you give her your last shirt? Come on, I know you'll never take eddie from her. Will you say it doesn't mean anything? If this is out of friendship or the kindness of your heart, then where are my free implants, Doc?! And who in this whole fucking town would care about another strange couple! And to be honest, I don't know anyone who could take care of V better than you!

And i saw you two making out apasionado. So stop fooling yourself, HOT DADDY chooms... Piénselo detenidamente."

---

From V and Johnny's conversation:

"What do you need to know when dating an older man V? Their pension is paid at the beginning of the month. Ahaha."

"When are you going to shut up?"

"Transferent love... Oh, young people don’t read Freud at all. Seriously V, what kind of relationship did you have with your father?"

"That's fucked up. I'm gonna take some blue pills and get you the fuck out of my head, Johnny."

.

.

.

And may my readers forgive me if you expecting Baldur's Gate fanfictions from me. but I need to switch things up a bit.

[awhalesrider]

Where Did You Sleep Last Night

A translation to my old fanfic on AO3. Apologies in advance for some clumsy wording and bugs in timeline.

Pairing: Johnny Silverhand/Female V (Valerie)

Chapter Summary: V had a bad birthday, and Johnny offered some sleep aid.

Additional tags: During canon, Pre Pistis-sophia, Soft Johnny

Getting a room is usually for a wild night.

That's true.

They rarely slept outside because it wasn't worth it - he spent too little time understanding a merc's lifestyle in the 70s. V was kicking around like a puppy. With those few eddies earned, she could barely afford a full meal and throw a few chromes on her body. It's kinda dumb for a merc worrying about the next meal and the next day to pay for someone else's bed. According to V, she’d rather get a good fuck. The only reason why they spent money on this shabby hotel for the first time was because of the thunderstorm, heavy as shit.

Johnny Silverhand stepped on V's wet footprints and stood behind her. He looked inside. The birthday suite was just as bad as he imagined. A sour smell mixed with the moisture of rain rolled out as soon as the door was opened. The air rushed straight to their head. There are generally only two possibilities for this situation - either time has rotted inside like a corpse, or there really was a corpse. Either way, it's all fucked up.

V stood at the door for a long time. "'kay..." She grabbed her half-wet hair, trying not to show her disgust too obviously. But Johnny could easily sense the resistance from the instinctive reaction of her throat and nose. She took a long breath: "Not that bad, right?"

Not that bad, you serious? Johnny had to admit that V got talents in self-persuasion. But they would have to continue to fight against her senses. Preem for both of them.

Unfortunately he's not the one in charge.

"C'mon, Johnny." She said, more like trying to convince herself than trying to convince him. The high frequency of self-talking always seemed to make her feel better.

"Let's see what we have here."

The door slid shut behind her. V found the switch with a few coughs. The light, however, only made the abstract badness a little more realistic. Prolly this is the characteristic of a roadside love hotel - kinda arrogant frugality: tattered curtains, dirty carpets, old toys, and super dream equipment on the table as if the cleaners quit after washing the sheets without taking those leftover gifts (mainly used syringes and condoms) in the corner for the next guests.

"Gonk's gettin five-star service. " Johnny decided to remind her of another option at the right time, "Another lesson for our merc."

V sighed, "Know what? Whatever you gotta say – say it."

"Never heard the old saying? East or west, home is the best."

"No, no...Johnny. It's raining like shit outside. And didn't I tell you cops are locking down Watson? Maxtac is prolly having a party there too." V gave a bunch of good reasons, though she was obviously frustrated about it, and she should be,'cause no one would get themselves in a stinky room on a night like this - well, maybe he would fifty years back. But she's not him, and she didn't want to be him.

"Well, then, got two lucky misters spending the night with ya." He pointed to the two dildos on the table that were performing a fencing match.

"Haha, very funny." V laughed dryly and took them away. She flipped him a finger and Johnny returned it back. She ignored him and opened the window.It was raining just right. V threw the two outside onto the awning to shower.

Johnny smiled. She was always very creative when it came to little revenge on nobody. The rain soaked into their palms. V turned around, taking a moment to wash away those flowers of blood, and she began kicking the garbage into a corner where she couldn't see it.

Poor girl, being angry for only two seconds, was now busy cleaning up the mess without getting paid. Should've spent the time roasting some brains of NCPD who blocked her way.

Johnny leaned against the wall.

Never thought brain-dead made mercs rush for biz at a loss.

Johnny came up with some jokes at this moment, like "somebody deserved a wanted poster hanging on her neck with what she's done, and now she's trying to be a law-abiding citizen". But V was a little too quiet as she walked around the room, not even commenting on the endless complaints in her head and yelling "Johnny you are not helping".

He got a bad feeling.

V kept the window open, making the smell in the room less unpleasant, but the strong wind, thunder, and wetness made them feel as if they had just moved to a different place to get caught in the rain. V tried to pretend that she did this on purpose, but their sensory pathways were exposing the truth: She had a loss of sensation in her lower limbs for a while, and she could not manage to stand up on her own.

This is no good. Johnny thought. The biochip was taking advantage of her injury, forcing her to retreat. But he could do nothing about it except watch the effect of the combat stimulant fade in her body.

V took off her jacket, and then the coat with blood spots. She put them on the bed sheet, and then the smell of blood temporarily covered the smell of old bedding. She sniffed, put her gun next to the pillow, and slowly lay down. Merc fumbled in her waist bag for a bottle, impatiently letting the alcohol pour rudely into her torn wound. Johnny saw the dark sweat marks on her close-fitting vest blurred into large patches, and the pain was vividly soaking her again. And V just lay there quietly, holding her arms tightly, waiting for this torture.

She was too tired to sustain any confrontational behavior, which was not good in any sense. Johnny dropped his previous attitude.

"V." He sat in the chair next to her, staring at her tense shoulders, "Can't sleep like this."

"Shut the fuck up, old man." She turned towards him. The words from her mouth seemed damp, wearily sticking in the air. Johnny noticed that the bullet pendant was sliding down her wet chest. V didn't look at him, as if she couldn't lift her eyelids at all. She was just clenching her teeth, insisting on digesting the painful groan. She shrank to the corner of the bed, with her shoulders trembling in the cold air, avoiding the radiation of the "flash bomb" that enveloped the entire city.

"Just… Stop talkin' for now, okay?" She tried to steady herself by holding the pendant, with her voice barely audible in the rain. "Need to meet the VDBs in Pacifica tomorrow... and I'm really tired."

Alright. Johnny stood up and walked away a little, hoping that she was not tired of living.

The windowpanes were clanging in the wind, and he watched V close her eyes in the noise and pray to get accepted in dreams. Fate is not such a cruel bitch if V could get what she wanted. Unfortunately, life is always hard, and most people in this city can't afford the ticket to a sweet dream. Only death has a kind heart not to turn people away.

Her eyelids twitched. The intense pain began to peel away from her body, getting replaced by waves of neuralgia, which was not life-threatening but still a continuous torture. The disrupted cognitive system made her fall into a trance similar to a hangover. Merc was still far from her dreams, but she was already having nightmares. Some noise was running wild in her blood. The strong wind blew into her brain, blowing into a mess of thoughts, some of which came from his memory fragments, but more of them were the bloody parts of her own story.

Fuck. The sting in his chest grew stronger, but he wasn't sure if it was her feeling it.

V suddenly opened her eyes, with her forehead covered with sweat. Her wet red hair was stuck to her temples.

"... Johnny." She spoke in a low voice.

 See? Here's who shut his mouth just now.

"Johnny?" But she called him again, as if she hadn't heard his thoughts, or felt in need of more response. Kinda disturbing, that, like a string of trills hanging alone on a music sheet.

"What? Need a napkin to draw unicorns, Matilda?"

"Kiss my ass." Said V, searching him with her eyes. Preem, at least she had regained the energy to curse. He met her gaze and felt a little ease of the dull and heavy pain in her chest.

"By the way, I'm Leon when it comes to professionalism."

Johnny raised an eyebrow with a little surprise. The film was half a century older than she was, but she knew what he was talking about. Maybe she was good at appreciating antiques.

"What now?" He asked, as a reward, "Our cold-blooded killer needs a bedtime story?"

He expected V to say something more, but she didn't.

"…Yeah, I guess." She just nodded and turned over, as if she's tapped out after trying to maneuver on the tattered sheets.

"Let's talk." She looked at him and continued to persuade him, "Do me a favor. Today's my birthday. It's now or never."

They both sadly realized that the joke was likely to become a reality, but she was still like any girl in 2020 who's a little off her rocker, except not that empty and fanatical, but still treating him as a confession window in the church. People would fill the desperate indifference with burning fuel.

Maybe she should really join the Animals if they would still like a rain-soaked puppy after seeing her sober self.

"Fine." Johnny compromised too quickly, and as he sat close to her, he began to strongly suspect that this was some scam created by the mental link between them. "'bout what?"

He felt strange after a second. Dumb questions. They were inseparable for 24 hours every day, and their brains were so small that their souls would collide with each other at any time, just like when he knocked her to the ground when they first met, she pointed at his nose and called him a dickwipe the next day. People always have noise in their heads. They should have talked a long time ago. In fact, they did: about Arasaka, Mikoshi, Soulkiller, and how to save her life.

"Anything. Just...don't be quiet." V narrowed her eyes. The lightning left a bleak white mark on her face, and she spoke again amid the chaotic thunder.

"...I...dunno, Johnny. I'm scared… for a little. " She smiled. The curve of her lips turned into a heavy expression. But it's unlike the kind she was good at expressing or he was used to dealing with. The smile was almost unattractive, but he suddenly felt that he had encountered a huge problem.

Johnny fell into a rare moment of silence.

"Of what?" He sat down and asked in a low voice, "Thunder?"

"Ugh, fuck off."

The joke was inappropriate, but it worked, obviously making her a little happier. "Think I'm a baby girl crying for her mother?"

Johnny snorted, "Whatever you say."

How old was she? Not even thirty. Many people in Night City didn't live to that age. He didn't deny that if anyone told his story, thirty might be considered his "old age". But she was still a girl, a stupid little thief who hadn't seen much of the world. Not old enough to die anyway.

"Okay." V ended the topic resignedly with a strange expression on her face, as if not knowing whether to cry or laugh with the fact in their head.

The rain made a series of sounds on the iron sheet outside the window, and she immediately wanted to break away from the silence in the room.

"…Wanna guess why I can't sleep?"

Johnny looked up at V's pale face, still unsure whether he should be her doctor.

"Too busy in your head?"

"Didn't even think about it seriously, did you?" she questioned like she was complaining, but her voice seemed to have reached the edge of blurred consciousness, with sleep or death on the other side.

"Same at first." She took a breath and finished her sentence. "Y'know, seeing your past all the time... Not the 'fuckin' something up' part. I mean, sex, gigs, radio-hacking..."

"Havin' fun, huh?"

"Hah, it's a mess. Bright light, loud music...gets me all dizzy, and... When I opened my eyes, cops were chasing me for blocks. My brains were 'bout to be shaken out." She released the hand that was tucked in front of her chest from the pendant and stretched it towards the direction where he was sitting. "But it's not bad... It's crazy but... alive. So... not exactly what kills my sleep."

Johnny sat near her without a word, waiting for her to explain.

"Don't wanna fall asleep," she said slowly, "cuz I'm afraid that...I won't wake up again."

"…"

V raised her eyelids and stared at his chair in a daze, then looked at him again. The scene of rain and fog outside the window appeared in her eyes.

Okay, merc's really going to give him a hard time. Her face and her thoughts got him amused but worried. Johnny found that V always confused him, even though he knew her thoughts better than anyone else. What? You are worried about your life every day, and you have been busy for a long time just to get rid of this fucking chip in your head. And now you are treating the time bomb as your guardian angel?

"Feel like dyin' when I fall asleep, Johnny." Her fingertips drew helpless swirls on the bed sheet, obviously not sober enough to answer his question, "A few days ago... I mean when I could still get some sleep, I thought I wasn't afraid of this... and anything. When Dex DeShawn asked me if I wanted to die at the age of thirty or get old in bed, I thought it was only about where to close my eyes. But I ..."

V closed his eyes again.

Building. Thunderstorm. Fall. Delamain. Smell of blood. Sad eyes. Bullet in the skull.

The dream screamed past his eyes. Johnny heard her spirit trembling as if she would collapse at any time due to info overload, which was a hundred times more painful than lying on the operating table without anesthesia.

"...Always dream about that day in the car... Every time I thought Jackie's just... falling asleep... Dunno how he felt at that time. Is it the same as I am... or you were...?" Her whole body was tense, and her breathing became disordered. "Pain, cold, nausea, like a nightmare, right?"

"So I was wondering... I was wondering why can't I just go flatline?"

The thunder almost shattered her words.

Johnny looked down to the floor, wondering if V noticed that she sounded like sobbing, though she wasn't. That's so not V, 'cause she was the kind of tough, sharp, brave, and capable person who was liked by everyone - of course they liked her. And she was the kind of fool that fixers favored, the kind of friend that edge runners loved, a kind of brave coward who forgot how seriously she took death. She's willing to eat the blood on the tip of a knife as long as she is given enough eddies or a true heart.

"…It's not that simple." He had no choice but to say this first, but he still didn't have much of a clue.

"Huh?"

"Been dead for fifty years, 'course I know more."

"But now I'm the one with only a few days left。" She pointed out.

The pain then hit him, much more severe than he expected. It was spreading to her limbs and organs and almost everywhere. Johnny couldn't even tell which part he was responsible for. He didn't like it, and he didn't like her saying so, because it reminded him that it was him killing her for all times, even today.

Johnny walked to the window, lit a cigarette, and heard the countdown ticking in her mind. Prolly this was why she didn't want him quiet. It was rare that they didn't break out into an argument, but still, they fell into silence with confrontation.

V had every reason to want an end. After all, she had come this far.

But she has survived until now. He always thought she was the type who liked to risk her life, taking jobs without careful consideration, and going through fire and water for everyone who regarded her as a friend. And now she wanted to dig a grave for herself in advance? This is not V.

Or maybe this is her?

Johnny let out a long exhale. The smoke and rain slowly mixed together, and he tried to calm himself down.

"…Emptiness." He told her.

"What?"

"Feeling of death." He turned around, putting the sentences together in the severe pain flowing through him, "Thought it was a stupid BD playin' for 24 hours? That's too fucking silly. You'll understand when you've been dead for a while... No sound, no perception, nowhere to rest for your consciousness. Last bit of existence's been taken away, like a fuckin broken plastic bag flying everywhere, and no one will give a fuck to ya."

V's eyes rested on him quietly: "…What are you tryin' to tell me?"

"I'm telling you getting some fuckin' sleep is never the same as dying."

The chair legs made a sharp sound on the floor, and he sat down in front of her again.

"... and stop thinkin' 'bout putting that bullet back in your brain. It's not any better than you are now."

Johnny leaned back in his chair and realized what he just said was a pure mistake, as if he was comforting a frightened child from a nightmare. Sounded like something that would be filmed in an animation half a century ago, the kind of unrealistic fairytale. But he was completely involved in her feelings and emotions. Nicotine was not enough to relieve his anxiety. Johnny continued to be annoyed that he had no right to accuse her of a bunch of depressing words, and he couldn't help wanting to finish what he said.

"Listen, V." He pinched her chin with his hand, forcing her to look at him more closely, but it seemed more like he was trying to pull her out of the suffocating fear. "Havin' your nightmares means you are still alive. We have a chance to think about how to be buried in the future. You hear me?"

V also stared at him, holding his wrist tightly and breathing rapidly. Her lips tightly pursed: "Sounds more like telling me not to be afraid of dying?"

"I'm telling you not to be afraid to live, V." Johnny let go of his hand and stood up, feeling his thumb brushed by warm rain.

"…and then get some ideas of makin' your days less fucked up next year."

He threw the cigarette on the ground and extinguished it, and the spark jumped into her eyes. V looked at him, and her cheeks finally turned red again because of her attempt to disengage herself. After a long silence, she finally smiled, but also really shed tears.

The sound of rain outside the window gradually weakened. It took a long time for V to speak this time.

"…Without you." She said with her voice hoarse.

It seemed that she finally remembered the solution they had agreed on at the beginning. Johnny was not sure whether he heard more certainty or more regret, but weaving a dead person into the story was a good sign for a dream anyway. This was exactly her current symptom.

Her breath was no longer so heavy, and Johnny could feel that the tingling in her nerves was gradually leaving. The dark water stains on her chest had not yet dried up, and were illuminated by the dazzling white light into a shining river, flowing slowly with her breathing.

Are you asleep, V?  He asked, never needing to speak but intending to reach out anyway.

Thunder exploded again not far from them, but this time V was not awakened. She lay quietly, holding the bullet in her chest with her fingers, and seemed to fall into an eternal sleep.

He had to admit that he was a little scared now.

As if by magic, his fingers reached behind her ear.

Her pulse beat beneath her warm skin. He breathed a sigh of relief.

"…G' night, Johnny." V said, exhausted, but alive. She smiled for the first time today. Her red hair fell down in a relaxed manner, like a cluster of flames pouring down on him in the whistling wind, and his chrome hand that had felt the heat of countless explosions was withdrawn as if it was burned. Johnny heard her sigh softly, like blowing out a candle.

The electronic projection of him dissipated, like a light smoke.

[wanderingaldecaldo]

Dead End Gleam / Shark Smile

From (my) prompt in Writers of Night City:

Rosalind stares out over the open wall of the safe house, watching the smoke from the cigarette pinched between her fingers as it curls and twists and dissipates into the grey Dogtown sky. Between the rain and the early morning light, the godforsaken place looks serene, despite the continued flames from Space Force One’s wreckage. The airships that lit the night like fireflies while searching for her have finally returned to their patrols along the borders. 

It’s time to admit that Songbird isn’t coming. If she’s honest with herself, she knew it in the subway tunnel when she stopped V and vainly made her try to reach So Mi again. So Mi had to have survived the incident with the Chimera—she’s too smart and clever not to—but the fact she hasn’t shown leaves only two options: she is incapacitated in some manner, a thought Rosalind doesn’t want to dwell on; or her little bird has flown, an even uglier thought.

The young woman stands before the massive Resolute desk, repeating the pledge to protect the New United States of America. She omits the last phrase, “so help me God.” Rosalind’s eyes narrow and she repeats it, her voice lilting upward in demand and one corner of her mouth raising in an ugly smirk.

Solomon had warned her that So Mi was not a particularly willing recruit, but she nodded and dismissed him. An orphan from Brooklyn with the choice between forced service to her country or facing a life sentence in a federal penitentiary only has the illusion of choice. 

“Ugh... so help me God.” Rosalind gives her a full smile. “So what now?”

“Learn, be useful, resourceful. Reed will see to that.”

Rosalind rounds the desk, her fingers lingering on the wood worn smooth by dozens of Presidents before her. Despite her resistance to reciting the full oath, So Mi’s enthusiasm is unfettered. Rosalind has no doubts that it is due in part to the tools she will have access to with the FIA, and she intends to milk that energy for all she can. She has plans that she hasn’t even shared with the director of the FIA; plans that would secure both the country’s future and her own, and this young woman will be the key.

“And whatever you need will be provided.” So Mi’s eyes glitter at the prospect of secret Militech hardware, and Rosalind’s smile deepens. “Welcome to the FIA.”

She hears V stirring from the dirty mattress where they slept, V’s arm looped protectively around Rosalind’s waist when they finally collapsed from exhaustion, and a small smile crosses her lips when she hears the older nomad tell V where to find her. Perhaps not all is lost; perhaps there is another route.

[olath124]

We've done it... It seems like I've figured out how to make working (well, mostly working at least...) poses for Cyberpunk Photomode. Sooo...

Dramah pics! A shitload of them! With badly made poses that clip with each other soooo much! XD... But hey, what you can't see...

So, I wanted to make a pic for this scene so much, but of course, I couldn't find the exact pose for exactly what I wanted. So, being the stubborn little tough bunny I am I decided to learn how to do my own poses!

Of course, without @cybervesna and @blackrevell I'd still be here trying to figure out why everything doesn't work as it's supposed to be, so... Thank you very much, to both of you!

[r3d-f0xs-blog]

How Dare (You)

A little scribble from an old prompt of Kerry and Voss.

Voss groaned when he heard the hushed voice having half a conversation somewhere close by. He opened his eyes and realised he had a blanket draped over his head and the arm of the couch, blocking out the light and muffling the sounds outside it.

“First, it’s the weekend. I told you I don’t take any calls about biz unless it’s like...” Kerry's voice held a sharp edge and irritated tone.

Voss peeked out from under the blanket and saw him pacing the downstairs lounge in front of the ridiculously oversized nude painting. His barely contained anger was in harsh contrast to the serene face rendered on the canvas. His robe had slipped off one shoulder, more rude awakening than a flirtatious style choice.

“No...no...I said no!” Kerry’s voice began to creep up the decibels, his hand cutting through the air aggressively.

Voss rubbed his eyes. The pain was gone but now he felt groggy and slow. The migraine hangover; it would take a couple of days for him to fully recover from this one.

Kerry stopped his pacing when the couch creaked as Voss sat up. The irritated expression flipped to tenderness as Kerry waved his hand for Voss to sit down again.

“No! For the last time Kovachek, I’m not doing it, not without askin'...” He was cut off mid-sentence, his face starting to tint red.

Voss knew what was coming and laid down on his back.

“Cut me off again like that and I swear...”

Kerry’s pacing became more stompy, as much as it could be in his flip-flops. He stopped, held the phone away from his face in disgust at what he heard. He glanced up at Voss who had an arm resting on his forehead.

“Say that again.” Kerry dared when he put the phone back up to his ear. His eyes glared when he heard the words repeated back.

“How...how dare you! How fuckin' dare you!” Kerry’s voice was hushed again. His whole body shook. “Can’t say it to him but you’ll glady pour that poison in my ears...”

The phone bubbled and hummed with the reply.

“Eat my fuckin' ass, Kovachek!” Kerry roared.

The phone was sent flying through the air and smashed into the wall. The glass front made a brittle crack when it shattered.

He turned around to see Voss sitting up again, eyes wide, his mouth open about to speak.

“Not now, babe. Gimme some time alone...” Kerry sighed. His shoulders rose and fell with the breath, his shoulders rounded slightly in on himself, head down as he left with his cigarette case in hand.

[keepswingin]

He dreams of before, floating between reality and code.

Slipping food off tables, hacking money from businesses too busy to notice. He was always quick, always a step ahead of the rest. Until he had met Chan, who moved like the world around him wasn't moving at all.

He caught Minho, halfway through a pickpocket. Smirked at the way he froze, a split second between being caught or getting away.

Minho's life had flashed before his eyes - not that he had much of it, but it was his, and all of it was about to be gone because he was going to end up with a bullet in his head - 

But Chan didn't let him die. He helped, and then Minho couldn't get rid of him. Not that he ever wanted to.

Chan found Han shortly after; towed him back to their spot and told Minho he found him dumped on the side of the road, arm stuffed full of chrome. Half dead, and out of it, unable to panic until he saw the port on the side of Minho's neck, and believed he was back with the very people who had snatched him from the bar he had been squatting in.

It was hard, learning how to live around one another, memories attempting to strangle Han in his sleep, smother him during the daytime. Forced to learn how to function with a newly fitted arm that could lead to more problems if not properly taken care of.

But Chan hadn't left Minho when he was on the brink, so Minho didn't leave Han, and now he couldn't imagine the physical world without him.

He was the biggest tether he had, whenever Minho went too deep, found himself trapped in a maze that seemed to go on and on...Han was there to lead him back.

Not Han, not truly him, but the essence of him that he clung to. The person he trusted most, the one who showed him there were still things to live for in the physical world, things that kept him from diving for good and never returning.

He wished he had Han now.

Or Chan. Or Seungmin, and his endless ability to push Minho out of his comfort zone.

He crashes back to the present with a stab of pain, followed by another prick of his arm. His eyes snap open to the sight of someone pulling out a needle, someone else reaching for his port.

Minho tries to jump away, but his body only succeeds in slumping the other direction, a whimper spilling pitifully from his lips. He's too broken.

The man beside him laughs, yanking out his port. "Pathetic, isnt he?" His voice sounds as though it's under water. "Claims he's the best in the business and then cracks under the pressure. False adversing at its finest."

It's easier to fall back to the past as the man plugs him into a tablet and continues to tell the other of the horrors Minho has gone through.

He thinks of Han, lying beside him on the couch, fingers ghosting gently across his skin. Chan, unable to hold back a smile as Minho complained about Changbin's tendency to yell. Jeongin, helping him climb into the awaiting bath when Minho's own legs wouldn't hold him up for the next dive. Felix's palpable sadness, when Minho admitted aloud that he'd rather be under, swimming through code.

Pain explodes in his head, a scream spilling from his lips.

Hyunjin meeting him on the corner, handing him the few eddies he was able to make while on his shift so that they could scrape something together for food that week, lipstick smeared across his thighs and a tremble to his fingers. Changbin barging through the door with complaints on the tip of his tongue of the latest brute and a weeping cut across the side of his head. Seungmin sitting silently beside Minho after the particularly rough nights, shoulders slumped and breathing heavy. Minho curling his arm around him, around each and every one of them, at some point or another, inching closer and closer to calling them family.

He gasps soundlessly as another painful jolt ripples through him, body seizing in place.

Did they find Chan? Were the others safe? Would he be picked apart and left on the side of the road? Or, worst of all, would he lose everything he's ever known? 

"Wipe him."

He didn't want to lose them. He didn't want to lose them. He didn't want to lose them. He didn't want to - he didn't want - he didn't - he - he - h -

<CENTRAL SYSTEM DOWN>

REBOOTING...

REBOOTING...

REBOOTING...

... ... ...

... ... ...

---MULTIPLE CORRUPTIONS DETECTED---

MOTOR FUNCTIONS CORRUPTED INTERNAL FUCTIONS CORRUPTED MEMORY DRIVE CORRUPTED

... ... ...

... ... ...

---ERROR---

... ... ...

... ... ...

<UNABLE TO REBOOT>

... ... ...

... ... ...

COMMAND ACCEPTED.

<ARE YOU SURE?>

COMMAND ACCEPTED.

... ... ...

... ... ...

<RESETTING SYSTEM >

[seeker-of-truth]

I, Pre Defined

Chapter 6: Cut and Run

Word Count: 3531 (approx. 8 standard novel pages) Estimated Read Time: 15 min. Content Warning(s): Discussion of Drug abuse, Addiction, Withdrawal, and Recovery. Loss of Consciousness.

oooohhhh new chapter - excerpt below the cut

To V, consciousness had, at some point, become strange. It was gentle and violent, coming slowly or all at once, both elusive and omnipresent. The lack of it had become a comfort in the time since stumbling out of Mikoshi. Providing a safe place away from pain, away from thoughts, away from her. Only the bliss of an ever expanding nothing. So, when a harsh light blares through her eyelids, pulling her back to the world, she meets it disgruntled. Back in her body she’s acutely aware of a throbbing ache stretching up her spine and into her brain, dulled in the way only drugs do, but still leaching through. Eager to fall back into the void she tries to let it overtake her again but a voice laced with stress keeps her from slipping back into its arms. “She should be waking up soon. Call her, let ‘er know.” Let her know what? V traces back through her memories, she remembers waking up, feeling sick. And then… nothing. She feels like something had happened in between then and now, something with Judy. But when searching for the memory she receives nothing. It doesn’t feel like she forgot, there’s no fuzzy recollection just an empty slot where a memory should have been, it leaves her breath caught in her throat. Theres a shuffle to her left followed by footsteps growing nearer. A man mumbles next to her, “Now why’d your heart rate spike.” She knows that voice. Why doesn’t she recognize it immediately? Searching her brain, she realizes it’s Vik who’s been talking and her eyes snap open. Looking around she realizes she’s in Vik’s clinic. Again. I’m so tired of this shit.

[elvenbeard]

Before it Gets Better

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic

Summary: Kerry returns home with an unexpected visitor, but what he finds he did not expect. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 12/?, 6748 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V - notes at the end) >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

V was ripped from a dreamless sleep, coughing and choking, sputtering a red cloud across his pillow. He scrambled to sit up, his throat tight and scratchy. Fingers clawing into the mattress he tried to take slow, deep breaths to suppress the coughing, but his chest hurt like he‘d been stabbed, his heart was racing. An icepick through his optics would‘ve been more comfortable than the headache leaving his vision blurry and riddled with glitches. Trying to regain his breath, orient himself in the room, all he could make out through the blinding pain were the dark red stains on the bedsheet and pillow, blood trickling down the back of this throat as he continued to gasp for air. Even though he was sitting he could barely keep himself upright, growing increasingly lightheaded.

“Kerry?” he croaked, but no response. Slowly he crawled across Kerry‘s empty side of the bed. Every inch of movement was a challenge. He squinted against the bright golden light of the setting sun reflected in the shiny surfaces of their furniture and walls, his call for Kerry still lingering unanswered, mixed with a hint of iron. Shakily V put his bare feet on the ground, pushed himself upright. Dizzy from pain he stumbled towards the gallery railing for support, fingers almost losing grip on the polished steel right then and there.

“Kerry?” he called again, hot blood streaming across his lips and chin, dripping on his chest and onto the floor.

“Fuck…”

Vik’s injectors… Not that they would help much anymore if he died of a hemorrhage within the next minute.

Just… breathe…

The plastic bag was still on the kitchen counter downstairs, and V cursed himself for not taking it with him earlier. He clung to the rail, peered down into the living room. Nibbles was sleeping on the sofa, but Kerry was nowhere to be seen.

Kerry, fuck… I need you…

Not by choice, but solely because he couldn’t physically move faster without passing out, he dragged himself forward along the cold metal railing, barely able to stand without the support. The whole house spun around V as he shakily walked down the stairs, moving automatically rather than consciously. Step by step, slipping and sliding further. He wasn‘t sure how long it took him, how he even made it all the way… but when he arrived at the foot of the stairs, in his condition, the bag with the injectors might as well have been on the moon. He shivered, heart hammering against his sternum. Once more he hoped that Kerry would appear around the corner any moment, to catch him, guide him the rest of the way… But it seemed that V would have to make it alone somehow if he wanted to make it.

Shakily he let go of the rail, his head pounding, edges of his vision darkening further. He didn’t remember how, but somehow, he crossed the distance, chest harshly slumping against the counter. Briefly he was jolted wide awake enough to slip a finger through the bag‘s loops, but then his legs gave in. He slid to the ground, harshly slamming his knee and elbow on the hardwood flooring. Burning pain shot through his broken wrist, he winced, but instead of groaning or screaming he only coughed and spat out more blood. Dark splotches blurred his vision further, his head grew heavy. Half-blinded he fumbled for the bag by his side, where it had clattered to the ground with him. Fingers locked around a fresh injector. His head fell back onto the hard, cool floor. With his breath rattling, V slammed the piece of plastic, metal, and needles against his bare chest, pressing hard and hoping that, if this did not save him anymore, it would at least ease the pain and just let him drift off into darkness peacefully.

His hand fell to the side, numbing warmth washing over him, rushing to his toes and fingertips, and he heard the faint rumble of the elevator being set in motion just as his vision faded.

“…you fuckin’ do this to me again! V, please, can you hear me?”

Kerry’s voice seemed to come from miles away, but the pain in his words was like a punch in the chest. Or it was the lingering sensation of the injector needle, or both.

“Don’t just fuckin’ stand there like a gonk, make yourself useful! Get me a blanket and, fuck, dunno… do somethin‘!”

V’s eyelids might as well have been glued shut, they were so heavy. He managed to catch only the tiniest glimpse of a figure rushing by behind Kerry. Kerry himself was kneeling right by his side, had one hand under V’s head for support, the other on his chest. V wanted to move or say something, but his body was paralyzed. The meds hadn’t fully kicked in yet, his head was pounding still. He couldn’t have been unconscious for long. That at least was a tiny silver lining.

“Here,” the other person Kerry was ordering around said as he returned, and V recognized his voice as Lee’s now. Kerry took the blanket they kept on the sofa from Lee, not letting go of V’s head though. He carefully, loosely put it over him, tucked it under him as best as he managed, and V noticed his fingers shaking as he brushed against his bare skin.

“Should I… call Trauma Team?” Lee asked quietly.

“This isn’t somethin’ they can help with…” Kerry said hoarsely.

“Oh, okay… Um, should I, dunno…”

“Can you just get the fuck off my back for a sec?” Kerry barked and V heard Lee shuffle away towards the other side of the kitchen. Then a soft touch to his left cheek, a thumb calloused by guitar strings for decades brushing across his cheekbone.

“V?” his voice was so quiet, so brittle compared to just seconds ago.

“Can ya hear me? Can ya… move, gimme a sign?”

It took all his willpower, the little remaining strength still in his body, but V managed only just to crack open his eyes again, and this time Kerry saw it.

“Oh thank fuck… okay, okay…” he sighed with immense relieve, voice shaky. He sunk down until his forehead came to a rest on V’s chest, one hand still at his face, the other searching V’s right hand. Like this he stayed, breathing deeply, holding on to V as if he was the only thing that would keep him afloat, safe from drowning. V wasn’t sure for how long, maybe five, ten minutes, maybe longer, or maybe not all that long. Slowly, surely his senses grew clearer again, and his headache became bearable.

“’n I’m the workaholic, huh?” was the first best thing he managed to utter hoarsely in an attempt to ease the tension. He opened his eyes and instantly met Kerry’s, in the same moment looking up at him. Kerry sat up slowly, his brow was deeply furrowed. Once more he stroked V’s cheek.

“Can you get up? Wanna get you to the sofa, off the floor…” he said, quietly and clearly unsure what to make of V’s remark. V was too weak to explain and also didn‘t want to risk another argument.

“Might need some help…”

“Okay, hold on to me.”

V tried to reach up to put his arm around Kerry’s shoulders, but even that he didn’t manage on his own. How pathetic of an image he must’ve presented. But there was no hint of pity in Kerry’s face, only worry. V grabbed onto Kerry’s jacket as tightly as he could, and despite his muddled state, under his palm he noticed a thin, rough layer of dust clinging to the leather.

Kerry pulled him to his feet, slowly, their movements matching each other as if they’d choreographed this… and in a way they had. V had long lost count of how many times Kerry had pulled him back to his feet again in the last few months. Literally as well as metaphorically.

Yes, Kerry was scared to lose him, he’d made that pretty clear… and at the same time V knew he wouldn’t be here anymore without Kerry, without someone waiting for him at home, putting so much more trust and support into him than he deserved. V was just as scared of going under, losing his rock, his bastion of calm in this storm… but more so because he was slowly but surely eroding him away with a constant stream of worry, stress, and pain.

“Alright, I gotcha,” Kerry whispered with some strain, then carefully but as quickly and directly as he managed guided him over to the couch. V’s steps were still unsure, and he groaned as he sunk onto the seat, clinging to the blanket still loosely wrapped around his shoulders. His muscles were aching and only now he realized that he was shaking, freezing actually.

“I’ll get ya some clothes, just sit tight here for a sec, alright?” Kerry said, pressing a quick kiss on V’s forehead, another stab to his heart, “Need anything else? Painkillers, water?”

“Water sounds good,” V said, words rough and feeling strange in his own mouth.

“Okay,” Kerry briefly squeezed his healthy hand, then straightened up and walked back towards the kitchen.

“Drinking glasses behind you,” he instructed Lee as he passed him by, quickly and vaguely pointing at the cupboards, “Water’s in the fridge.”

Then he jogged upstairs. V slowly, carefully turned his head, trying to process still what had just happened. Then his gaze briefly met with Lee’s, who seemed just as confused. He was standing in the kitchen, staring like a deer in headlights, then quickly turned on the spot and rummaged through their cupboards. A slight thud right next to V drew his attention away from the kitchen for a moment and to Nibbles, who had just jumped on the sofa. She brushed against him, purring loudly, and looked up at him with her huge green eyes.

“Hey girl… what’s goin’ on, huh?” V said weakly, but he was shaking too hard now to reach out and pet her. Even his teeth were chattering… He hadn’t been this miserable earlier at Vik’s. But it was a fierce drug cocktail he’d injected, likely not without its occasional side effects.

The fridge door opened then closed again, and V turned back to Lee as Nibbles got comfortable on the sofa beside him. Even from a distance and even half-blinded by pain still he could see that Lee was shaking too, as he filled the glass almost to the brim. Only reluctantly he walked over to V, keeping the coffee table between them. He sat the glass down and took half a step back again.

“Thanks,” V said quietly, but kept the blanket wrapped around him. Lee avoided to look at him. V could taste the blood on his lips still, feel it pull at the skin around his nose where it dried. He probably looked like absolute shit.

“C’mon, in my state I’m not gonna be able to do anything to you. Even if I wanted to,” he then said, trying to get Lee to relax… not entirely without ulterior motives, because their penthouse was the last place Kerry would bring his manager to without a very good reason. Why was he here? Where had Kerry let‘s-just-spend-the-rest-of-the-day-on-the-sofa Eurodyne disappeared to while V had been asleep?

Lee cleared his throat and shifted slightly where he stood.

“Sit down, you’re makin’ me nervous,” V ordered, and after a moment of hesitation, weighing the pros and cons in his head for sure, Lee sat down on an armchair nearby. They were at eye level now, but Lee still avoided his gaze. But that gave V the chance to get a closer look at him in return. His hair was somewhat disheveled, and what V had mistaken as an unusual hint of stubble at first was dirt along Lee’s jawline and neck. His white leather boots were tinted orange, as were the seams of his sleeves and his knees and shins. Overall, he appeared shaken, more so than usually… And all that, plus the dust on Kerry’s jacket, painted wild scenarios in V’s head that he couldn’t quite place into a bigger context yet.

“Can’t you, like…” Lee mumbled, “With your hacking and such… basically kill people just with your thoughts?”

He then looked up at V wide-eyed, like prey that knew it was going to die but also had no means to get out of its dire situation anymore.

“It’s not quite as simple, but technically… yeah.”

Lee immediately looked back down to his lap, where he had his fingers tightly intertwined, resting on his thighs.

“Do you need to, like…” he then continued to stammer, barely audible, “Look the person in the eyes, or just, roughly know where they are in a room? How does it work?”

V sighed.

“Lee, if I wanted to kill you, you wouldn’t be sitting here anymore.”

Lee laughed nervously, gulped, and briefly looked up at V, then away again.

Right as V began to wonder where Kerry had disappeared to, he heard him coming back down the stairs. He carried some clothes flung over his left arm, in his right hand he held a clean wet towel. He walked straight past Lee and paid him no mind whatsoever, instead returned his full attention to V. Putting the clothes down on the sofa first, then giving Nibbles a short pat, he eventually knelt down in front of V.

“I thought, maybe clean up a bit first before gettin’ dressed…” he said and held out the towel in an offering manner. V’s eyes had been following Kerry’s movements, only now they found his face again – and he froze when he noticed his eyeliner slightly smudged, his eyelids reddish and a little swollen. Just slightly, and right now he was gently smiling, as if nothing was wrong. But V could tell that he was hurting so much and tried not to let it show, and that in return hurt V to no end. He wondered if it was because Lee was here, or if Kerry felt like he had to be strong for both of them right now.

“Kerry…” V mouthed, his throat too tight to produce sounds. Kerry flashed a short smile, shook his head only just enough so V would see it. Then he carefully dabbed the warm, soaked towel against V’s face to get rid of the blood.

“Gotta get you checked out…” he said overplaying his sadness, the white towel progressively turning redder as he slowly worked away, “By Vik, or better, at the MedCenter. That wasn’t just a lil’ nosebleed.”

V held still, focusing on the warmth of the towel, the movement of Kerry’s eyes, his other hand gently stabilizing V’s head, fingertips caressing his face. And the slight resignation in his voice…

“MedCenter sounds like a plan,” V then said, automatically again almost, causing Kerry to freeze for a moment, stare at him with mild surprise. But then he smiled, more genuinely than before, and continued to gently dab the dried blood.

“Okay, good,” he said, “Want me to give Dr. Fuentes a call before, or…”

“I’ll do it myself,” V promised. Kerry finished by wiping the towel across V’s mouth, then his chest, then leaned in to give him a quick peck on the lips before putting it down on the coffee table.

“Not quite good as new, but it’ll do,” he announced, and V laughed weakly. The tension in the air was still tangible though, as Kerry followed V’s gaze back to Lee, who still sat on the chair, hands folded and staring at his feet.

“What’s he doin’ here by the way?” V then asked, no longer able to ignore the elephant in the room, “And where were you?”

Now Kerry avoided to look at him, bit his bottom lip and sighed, but his hands resting on V’s lap now also briefly clenched, curled into fists. He shrugged, and gestured at Lee, who stared at them both with wide eyes first and then over to the elevator. How subtle.

“Dunno, Lee, you wanna explain what happened?” Kerry asked, barely able to mask his annoyance and anger again now.

“Uh…” was all that Lee managed to utter, still petrified.

Kerry cocked his head, and when Lee didn’t manage to rediscover his voice, he turned to look back at V.

“Turns out, this little motherfucker is the one who swapped your pills.”

Lee audibly gasped and jumped up from his chair, hands raised in defense, before V had even fully registered the meaning of Kerry’s words.

“He what…” he said, his pulse gaining speed, then he turned to Lee, “You did what?”

“They… threatened me!” Lee stammered, and if V hadn’t been shaking too much to hold a glass of water, he would’ve long grabbed and punched the shit out of him. But then a shiver ran down his spine, and he turned back to Kerry.

“He tells you he works for Blue-Eyes and your first impulse is to bring him here? Into our home?”

Now Kerry flinched, visibly guilty.

“Hey, listen,” he defended himself, “My first impulse was to leave him to die in the desert – and I’m still tempted to take him back there, if I’m honest with ya.”

“No, please!” Lee whined and both Kerry and V instantly turned to look at him and in unison told him to “Shut up!”

There was a brief pause, their eyes met for a moment, V couldn’t help but grin and noticed Kerry’s cheeky smile as well. But then he turned serious again.

“Fuck it’s… a fuckin’ mess,” Kerry sighed. He got up to sit on the sofa next to V, Nibbles between them, to explain the whole story.

V listened intensely, from Kerry’s discovery on the security footage to paying Lee a visit (admitting his plan wasn’t as well thought-out as he’d liked it to be), down to their conversation in the desert and the return to Charter Hill.

“Dunno I… had a real bad gut feelin’ about just leaving him there,” Kerry said, “He downright admitted to everything, I think if Mr. Bastard figures out he told us…”

V nodded pensively, keeping a close eye on Lee who had sunken back into his chair again, appearing small and lost like a guilty child called to the principal’s office for the first time.

“How did these people get in contact with you for the first time?” he then asked, “And when?”

“It was the same night after I’d signed the contract with Kerry,” Lee said quietly, but without hesitation, and V nodded. That had also been the same day V had been contacted by Mr. B about the Crystal Palace heist.

“Got an unknown number call me, voice distorted, and they had… all this information on me, no idea how they got their hands on it,” Lee explained, “They told me I should get something from an apartment in a Megabuilding, everything would be ready to go as soon as I get there. Or they’d ruin me, if I didn’t do it.”

He looked up at V with watery eyes.

“I didn’t even know it was your place, didn’t even know who you were at the time. Only that you wouldn’t be home, and that I had to find a specific pill bottle. Take one pill, deliver it to a drop point with a specific code. And I thought that would be it.”

“But they came back, I take it, with more demands?” V asked, and Lee just nodded.

“I got to know you a few days later…” he stammered, “And they said, they wouldn’t only ruin my career, they’d put all the blame on me somehow and you’d kill me the second you figure it out.”

V leaned against the sofa’s backrest and closed his eyes for a couple of moments, still tightly wrapped in his blanket. He didn’t know Lee that well yet, but he’d dealt with enough professional liars in his life, and Lee simply didn’t strike him as one. Also, he had nothing to gain from making this up, or at least he also risked his life big time. For what, money? He earned ridiculously well as Kerry’s manager, his life already was more prestigious than those of 90% of NC’s citizens. Also, the details matched up, his fear was real. No matter how much he searched, V couldn’t think of a reason to distrust him, not believe him.

V could feel both Kerry’s and Lee’s eyes linger on him, waiting for him to deliver an answer, a solution that would magically make all their problems disappear. Admittedly, knowing with relative certainty now that neither Vik nor his trusted chemist, nor any other third party out of their reach was responsible for swapping V’s pills, that it had “only” been Lee, was a small relief. One thing to cross off of the to do list that was longer than the lifetime V had left.

But what good was it really to know the truth when in the grand scheme of things V was still dying, Lee had a bright glowing target on his back the moment he walked out the front door, and Mr. B’s true intentions were still unclear… and V and Kerry were continuously delivering him reasons now to silence them as well. He had put a certain amount of trust in them by inviting them to the lab, showing them his tech, and they’d declined to work with him – or rather, V had declined, Kerry had at least tried to convince him to reconsider.

Either way though, they were in the process of figuring out more and more of Mr. B’s secrets, and V was certain this man had his means and ways to stay in the loop on what they were up to. Whatever had been in these pills, V wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. B would notice if he no longer took them, at the very latest when Lee – or someone new – was tasked to swap them out the next time.

The hamster is running in his wheel again. Has he ever left it, I wonder…

“I need fresh air,” V just said and shakily good up from the sofa, Kerry jumping to his side instantly.

“Woah, careful,” he said, hand on V’s back.

“I’m good, really,” he replied, and quickly squeezed Kerry’s hand. He slid the blanket off his shoulders, let it drop to the floor, then grabbed the comfortable jogging pants and t-shirt Kerry had brought him earlier. From the corner of his eye he noticed Lee staring, then getting flustered and averting his gaze. V could almost feel the daggers shooting from Kerry’s eyes behind him, even if he said nothing, and V grinned.

He pulled the t-shirt over his head, then turned around. Since he had to pass Lee on the way to the balcony anyway, he made a point of walking up to him slowly, then he stopped right by his side. Lee froze, then sheepishly looked up at him. V waited, looked him in the eyes… and then grabbed his jaw as hard as he could, leaving Lee wincing and gasping.

“Don’t ever try to fuck with me or Kerry again, or I swear, you’re gonna wish he’d shot you in the desert,” V threatened, his voice calm but cutting as sharp and deep as the finest katana rolling from an Arasaka assembly line.

Lee stared at him wide-eyed, and when V let go of his face again, he just nodded firmly. Then V slowly continued his walk to the glass sliding door connecting the kitchen to the outside world.

With each step onto the balcony he took another deep breath as Night City was slowly engulfed by darkness… But simultaneously somehow it came back to life in a rainbow of a million neon lights. V stopped at the railing, still somewhat lightheaded, and just listened to the pulsating heart of the city for a few moments, taking in the smells and sights, as if he’d awoken from a too long sleep as well.

He rested his arms on the metal bar and let his head fall forward. He could still sense the strain of his headache, his arm and knee hurt from his fall.

Next one might kill ya for good, just sayin’. You gotta get your ass up and do somethin’.

The echo of Johnny’s voice lingered in his ears again, and V wasn’t surprised. It was almost as bad again as it had been that day Johnny took control and dragged him to the Pistis Sofia. V had been so angry, so scared, and even in hindsight still felt betrayed, no matter that Johnny had acted in his – their – own best interest. Sometimes he wondered, even though he was gone, somewhere behind the Blackwall now, if a piece of his mind didn’t maybe remain in V’s brain after all somehow. He still had many of Johnny’s more vivid memories, because they were V’s now as much as they’d been his first. Why not part of his personality as well, seeped from the Relic into the fibre of his being where not even Soulkiller could reach it? The thought terrified him, that the reason he was dying wasn’t even just his body not accepting his own personality anymore, but rather part of Johnny still being here and actively – even if unwillingly – fighting back against V too.

V, you gotta do somethin’. Promise, this isn’t one of those things that’s gotta get worse before it gets better.

“Fuck…”

V opened his eyes. He was sick to his stomach and needed another couple of minutes of just breathing in the cool evening air slowly and steadily for the nausea to fade to bearable levels. Only then he pulled up Dr. Fuentes number on the holo. In the corner of the interface the time read 6.56 pm, so not awfully late for a spontaneous call, he hoped. He took another deep breath, then it started ringing.

“Fuentes?” was the firm response on the other end of the line just a few seconds later. But V hesitated.

“Hello?” Fuentes asked after a short pause.

Only the memory of Kerry’s teary eyes managed to remove the knot from his tongue.

“This is V,” he said briefly, not really sure how to even start, “I… wanted to apologize for turning your offer down so harshly the other day.”

Now Fuentes remained silent. Her holocall avatar was a plain logo of the Little China MedCenter with her name beneath it, “Dr. Isabella Fuentes” in sleek letters.

“No need to apologize,” she then said, voice calm and professional, “I take it, you’ve reconsidered?”

“Why else would I be calling, right?” V grinned, trying to play it cool after his initial hesitation.

“I’ve thought things through,” he continued, “Examined a few other options and… I think it’s best to at least explore all possible paths before making a final decision.”

She didn’t need to know about Blue-Eyes, at least not yet and not over the holo. Despite the secure connection, having Lee sitting just a few yards away behind him, made it hard for V to speak openly. Also, he still waited on Nyx’ background check of the doctor. Apart from that, she also didn’t need to know that he was growing desperate. Despair quickly attracted all sorts of favours and demands that weren’t part of original bargains in this city.

“A wise decision,” she said then, and once again, a shiver ran down V’s spine as if he’d just walked right into a trap, “Let me check my calendar… You’re scheduled for the cast removal on Friday. Would that be alright, or do you want to come in sooner?”

V paused once more. Viktor’s injectors would last him until Thursday at most, at this rate probably not as long. Hopefully AJ would have the next pill batch ready before that happened. Right now, he might still have remnants of Mr. B’s fake pills in his body that Fuentes could have a look at, too.

“Would tomorrow work?” he asked, and Fuentes hummed.

“Let me see… I can definitely move some appointments around. Why don’t you come in at… 10 am? And I’ll see what I can do for you, get things moving at the very least.”

“Alright,” V nodded, and his stomach slightly turned again.

“Alright,” Fuentes repeated, “Then I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”

“Good night.”

He hung up and returned to trying to breathe deeply, rubbing his forehead with his healthy hand. He stood in silence, in the fresh breeze for a little while longer, until eventually the door slid open behind him. Familiar hands found his sore shoulders, rubbed his back.

“Ain’t ya gettin’ cold?” Kerry asked quietly, pressing his lips against V’s left shoulder blade as his arms wrapped around his waist. V shook his head.

“Got an appointment with Fuentes tomorrow mornin’,” he announced, “Can you drive me? Otherwise, I’ll just call Del.”

“No, of course I’ll drive ya. Hell, I’ll come with ya,” Kerry said.

“It’s fine, don’t have to,” V shook his head, “Been driving me around all day today, and yesterday… I bet the studio’s been breathin’ down your neck the whole time.”

Kerry’s silence and slightly tightening grip was answer enough.

“But you hate doctors and hospitals,” he then mumbled against his shoulder, and V chuckled, putting his hand on Kerry’s.

“But,” he countered, “I’m also a big boy already. I’ll manage on my own this once.”

Kerry squeezed him once more, then slowly let go to lean on the rail beside him. He pulled out his cigarettes and lit one up, his own way of “catching some fresh air” V mused. They stood in silence side by side for a few moments, admiring the glowing cityscape.

“Y’know,” V then said, “I’m really damn proud of you.”

Kerry laughed briefly and flicked some cigarette ash into the air.

“Yeah?”

V nodded.

“How you figured out that it was Lee… couldn’t have done that better myself.”

“Got yourself a man of many talents,” Kerry smiled, taking another drag.

“I know you’re being sarcastic, but really, Kerry, you give yourself too little credit,” V insisted, “Couldn’t do any of this without ya.”

V turned to look at Kerry, but Kerry didn’t reciprocate his gaze, instead stared off into the distance. He seemed to want to respond in a cheeky way, something like “yeah, of course you couldn’t”, but he wasn’t able to bring himself to it. In the end, he just smiled, flicked away what was left of his cigarette, then looked up at V finally with his big blue eyes.

“I know you’re carrying big enough burdens and responsibilities without me already,” V said quietly.

“V, you’re not – …”

“I’m not a burden, I know,” V interrupted him, “I’m just sayin’… Don’t forget to take care of yourself, too. Neither of us has to carry all the weight all the time. We can take turns, share the load.”

Once again, Kerry seemed to want to say something, although this time V had a harder time guessing what it may have been. Instead, after a couple of moments, he changed the topic.

“I was hopin’… you’d have an idea about what to do with Lee.”

V looked over his shoulder. Inside, Lee was still sitting on the armchair in the living room, head hung low.

“You really think he’s in immediate danger?” V asked, but Kerry almost instantly shrugged.

“It’s less knowin’, more a feelin’,” he said, “Based on livin’ in this city for longer than most people, mostly.”

V nodded. Kerry’s life experience wasn’t to be underestimated. Even if he’d never been a true part of Night City’s underworld, he’s lived alongside it long enough, dealt with enough shady crooks, crazy fans, and dubious corpos to have a deeper insight into human nature and this city’s inner workings than most.

“Also… dunno, it could be nothin’. Just my own paranoia,” he then added, and V perked up, “There was this black van just outside the studio, right when we left to come back ‘ere.”

“A black van?”

“Yeah… pretty non-descript, just… black.”

“Did you see the model, or brand?” V’s thoughts were racing, drifting back to the high-speed chase of the black Ragnar on behalf of the Peralezes. His first contact with Mr. Blue-Eyes’ organization, even when he wasn’t aware of it yet at the time. A black, non-descript car, not quite a van, but…

“I think it was a Columbus,” Kerry said, and V frowned, “Like… 80% sure. Not brand-new, but also not one of the older models that still pop up now and then. Fuck, Nance once organized one of those for a tour, lemme tell ya, was tired of the thing the moment I got in. Flimsy doors, too narrow really to get anything in and out that was bigger than a person… And fuck, it stank.”

V hummed.

“Odd for that corner of Charter Hill, too,” he said after a couple of moments, “In broad daylight and all.”

Kerry nodded. V knew Charter Hill well, he knew the street the studio was on, and really, black, non-descript vans stood out. It wasn’t exactly an area with a lot of big families that might get use of a car like that, neither an overly commercial area with a lot of delivery vehicles… And those were branded or parked in the back of the fancy stores they delivered to. Maybe it was a vehicle of Mr. B, or maybe that of a bad private investigator who hadn’t done their research on the area and just brought the usual inconspicuous car… Or a dozen other possibilities. If it was enough to worry Kerry though, he would treat it seriously.

“Alright,” V said and pulled up his holo again, “Better safe than sorry. Imma call Emmerick, arrange some security for Lee – and for you, on that matter – ‘til we know more.”

“Ah, c’mon, V, I’m safe here, and at the studio… and everywhere else I’ll be with ya anyway.”

“I’ll sleep better if I know there’s a couple more eyes on you than just mine,” V said and called up Emmerick to set everything in motion – and to remove Lee from their house as quickly as possible.

Less than half an hour later the doorbell rang, and Lee was picked up by two trustful mercs who specialized in personal protection. He was visibly reluctant about leaving with them, but in the end, V would’ve left him no choice but either go on his own or at least accompanied by well-paid professionals.

“You’re gonna pay us back for this,” Kerry said as Lee already had one foot in the elevator, “Not just the huscle, everythin’. Big time.”

His jaw slightly red still from where V had grabbed him, Lee just nodded in resignation before the elevator doors closed between them.

A huge weight was lifted off of V’s chest, and he leaned against Kerry, who put his arms back around him.

“What a day, huh?” he said quietly, gently rubbing V’s back in small circles.

“Hopin’ tomorrow will be better,” V nodded with his eyes closed, forehead resting on Kerry’s shoulder.

They remind like that for a couple of moments, then V stood up straight again to look at Kerry. Meanwhile it was almost eight.

“Whaddaya say… pizza, popcorn, and movie night?” he suggested. Kerry squinted slightly, in disbelief almost. But then he also began to smile and nodded. V reached up to brush his fingers through Kerry’s ridiculously soft hair, then scratched his beard, and Kerry closed his eyes and leaned into the touch. Like a cat, V thought, and chuckled. Simultaneously, he placed an order at their favourite pizza place over his holo.

“You’re all dusty still,” he mused quietly, “And I bet I look like a mess, too.”

Kerry didn’t even open his eyes.

“You’re particularly handsome when you look like a mess...”

V snorted and kissed him softly.

“I’m still kinda cold though, too. I’ll hop in the shower real quick. Wanna join while we wait for the food?”

Kerry grinned.

“Be there in a sec, I’ll just finally put my jacket and… stuff away.”

V had noticed Kerry still had his gun in his pocket the whole time Lee was there. He had been wondering if he’d kept it on him on purpose.

“Okay, but don’t make me wait too long,” V teased, giving Kerry’s jaw a quick squeeze the same way he’d done it to Lee, and Kerry bit his lip.

“I would never,” he purred, then they slowly moved away from each other. V began to head upstairs, clinging to the railing, the exertion really making him feel his earlier attacks now. Halfway up the stairs he actually had to pause for a moment to catch his breath. Then his gaze fell to his feet, and between them on the steps the dark red dried bloodstains he’d left here earlier still marked the floor.

He cursed between his teeth, froze for a moment, as his eyes wandered further up the steps where the blood trail continued. Then he looked down behind him, could see the stains still where he’d laid on the floor in the kitchen.

Slowly he made it the rest of the way up the stairs, behind him on the ground floor the door to the armory opened and closed a second time. Kerry caught up to him at the top of the stairs where once more V couldn’t continue moving. He could feel Kerry follow his gaze to their bed, where the pillows and blanket looked like a dark red can of spray paint had exploded. Even the wall had tiny stains.

V turned to look at Kerry, whose cheeky grin had disappeared, replaced by distress he didn’t manage or want to hide this time. Neither of them said a word until eventually Kerry just dragged V to the bathroom with him.

“I’ll call someone to clean up tomorrow when we’re outta the house,” he said, “Can sleep downstairs tonight.”

V just nodded and wordlessly followed Kerry. Any spark of romance was gone, not even the hot shower water raining down on them helped. But actually, just holding each other and existing in this peaceful moment together was what they both needed more now than a quickie, V realized. He clung to Kerry, and Kerry clung to him, and neither said a word. They just understood that all that mattered right now was that they still had each other after a day full of arguments and unpleasant surprises, with only little glimmers of hope between.

“I thought you were dead,” Kerry eventually broke the silence, voice barely louder than the rushing water, finally addressing what both of them had had on their mind the whole evening. He had his face buried against the side of V’s neck, and V stroked the back of Kerry’s head, scratching and caressing the short grey hair there. He couldn’t say anything in response, could barely imagine the horror Kerry must’ve felt, walking into the kitchen and seeing his legs and a trail of blood behind the counter first thing. V had stumbled into murder and violent crime scenes that had been less bloody than the state of their bedroom right now.

“I’m here though,” he then said quietly, “I’m so… fucking sorry, to put you through this, but I’m here. And I hope I can make up for it somehow, in... in the future.”

He almost said, “in the end”, but no. He didn’t want to think of things ending anymore, but of continuing, of something, some kind of future to look forward to.

“V…” was all that Kerry managed before he almost collapsed against him and just began to cry against V’s shoulder. It started as just one, two big sobs, but then he couldn’t hold back anymore. V clung to Kerry, soothing, whispering into his ear that they’d find a way, somehow.

“And if I have to burn the whole damn city down, I’ll fight like hell to get better. Be with you. Never leave you again.”

Like this they stood, holding on, until all the tears they were still capable of crying had been washed away and down the drain with the dirt and blood and dust.

*****************

>> Next Chapter

*****************

Notes:

The mood of this chapter was: Lie down. Try not to cry. Cry a lot.

I always struggle a bit with transitional chapters, but this here finally ties off the "who switched the pills" plotline and V moves away from focusing on Mr. B as much (at least for now). I've been struggling a bit with putting it all together, but I'm ready now to move forward XD Next time Dr. Fuentes will make a return and I'm scared and excited to introduce you to her plans for V 👀 To recap the timeline a little bit, the day before all this happened, V was introduced to Mr. B's "cure" of his problems, and just a couple of days earlier he returned from the Crystal Palace and had his car accident. Busy af weekend really xD

Also yes, this is not the last you'll have heard of Lee, promise! He will have to pay for what he did, even if he was somewhat forced 👀

Requested Fic Update Tags:

@humberg @r3d-f0xs-blog @thatinternetwanderer @localtranspigeon @taiyo-yokai  @kharonion @genocidalfetus @seeker-of-truth @readalotbook @losttr3asur3 @chromeaholic💜

If you’d also like to get tagged when I post a new chapter for this fic, leave a reply on [this post] or send me a DM!

If you do not want to receive further notifications, shoot me a quick DM and I’ll take you off the list again!

[foxs0x]

End Transmission Chapter 27!!

Read here on ao3

Finally finished editing the update :D

VxKerry - Cyberpunk fanfic

Summary:

Two years have passed, and V is finally awake. Stripped of his cyberware and grappling with grief, V realises he has no idea who he is outside of being a mercenary. Meanwhile, Kerry spent those two years believing V broke up with him in the worst way possible - until V's unexpected call.

--

A slow burn romance exploring V's journey of self-discovery and personal strength in a world that's moved on without him, against Kerry's turbulent career after it's taken off.

[mail-me-a-snail]

He had known some things about V without asking: he had known about Konpeki Plaza; Jackie Welles; what Jackie and Misty and Viktor had meant to V, his friends at the end of his corpo world; his fascination with the Blackwall.

But there’s one thing he hadn’t known, until it had been too late--and it had been that V had thought he had had nothing to go back to, not without Johnny.

--

or, there's only one motel by the border; the bus for arizona leaves in the morning; and johnny's got all the time in the world to kill.

(takes place right after the temperance ending)

ok reposting this bc i added some minor edits + changed the work summary. hello again night city !!!!

[arasakas-ronin]

Even the longest journey begins with a single step

[cyberpunkren]

Blood & Wires

Fandom: cyberpunk 2077

Pairing: Ren x RiverWard

Raiting: explicit

Summary: Amidst thrilling bounty hunting missions and perilous confrontations, Ren and River discover that, despite their differences, they share a common commitment: unmasking the mega-corporation and restoring justice in Night City. But as they delve deeper into the depths of the conspiracy, they also find a connection that goes beyond friendship and professional collaboration.

In the heart of betrayal and danger, love blooms in this tale of action, intrigue, and romance in a cyberpunk world filled with bright lights and dark shadows. As Ren and River fight together against ruthless foes and deadly conspiracies, they also fight for a love that defies all odds.

Author notes: this is going to be a long series so... im ready for it because I haven't seen a lot of stories of River and im obsessed!!! This is a brief summary of what's to come. Hope you all enjoy it

The Hunter and the Cop

Night City, a futuristic metropolis where the lights flicker with promises and the shadows lurk with hidden dangers. At the heart of the city, where the neon lights threaten with a hypnotic glow over the rain-soaked streets, two destinies were almost going to intertwine.

The acid rain fell relentlessly, erasing the glimmers of a city that never slept. The streets were teemed with hurried people, engrossed in their own problems. Some of them searched for wealth, others to survive other day, but they all share the shame bond: the fight to survive in Night City.

Between the crowded bodies of people and the bustle of cybernetic night life, two figures stood out. In a dark corner in the city, a fearless figure with copper hair and smart eyes walked with determination. Ren, a bounty hunter, in her twenties, moves with confidence from someone who knew every corner of the city, every trick and trap that Night City had to offer. Her mission was no other than to track a fugitive of high value, one that had escaped the authorities for too long.

Meanwhile, a few blocks away, an intense-looking police officer named River Ward patrolled the streets with sturdiness with the strength of someone who had sworn to serve and protect his city. He was a tall man, athletic with a good looking appearance, in his thirties. His blue deep eyes shine with determination and his black hair was cut like a military. Even though he can look serious at first glance, her gaze reveals a mixture of compassion and determination, a glance of his strong sense of justice. River is known for his ethic of a non stop working and devotion for Night City. Despite the rain drenching his uniform and the darkness threatening to swallow the city, his sense of duty didn't flinch. River had personal reasons to follow the trail of a particular target, a target that would lead him to the crossroad where his destiny would intertwine with Ren's.

[aggravateddurian]

The President's Lady | Chapter 3: Lunch

Myers has Vega and Reed over for lunch. Myers demonstrates her interest in Vega exceeds the purely professional…

THINGS ARE HEATING UP!