the-archangel

[the-archangel]

It’s that time again! Merry Christmas chooms, don’t drink and ride!

[the-archangel]

Exit Strategy

Cyberpunk 2077 Fanfic

Summary: V finally meets again with Dr. Fuentes, who during their first meeting already seemed very intrigued in his case. With not much left to lose, he takes her offer for an informal appointment - but even so, in Night City everything comes at a price. (Post-Sun-Ending, mostly canon-compliant, Chapter 13/?, 8258 words, Kerry Eurodyne/V - notes at the end) >> Previous Chapter >> Read from the Beginning

Kerry leaned over from the driver’s seat of his car and gently turned V’s head to give him a brief goodbye kiss. V didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to unglue his ass from the passenger seat, or go to that appointment with Fuentes. His hand lingered on Kerry’s thigh too long and gripped too tightly for Kerry to not notice. He had been right. V truly hated hospitals and doctors and anything to do with either.

“Ya sure you don’t want me to come?” Kerry asked with the utmost genuine worry in his eyes.

“Not that I don’t wanna,” V whispered, “But I’ll manage. And you’ll manage.”

He tried to convince himself more than Kerry really, and Kerry’s little grin told him that he knew that just as well. So, he just kissed him once more for good measure.

“I’ll give ya a call as soon as I’m out and I’ll be all yours for the rest of the day. Promise.”

“Okay,” Kerry nodded, beard brushing against V’s lips briefly. Then he withdrew, and V slowly lifted his hand to the doorhandle.

He wasn’t sure how, but somehow, he made it out of the car eventually. Exited the steel and gold colored Guinevre, waved Kerry goodbye briefly as he slowly drove off towards Charter Hill. Then he entered the MedCenter with his heart beating in his throat.

Finding the right name plate on the right room turned into a downright scavenger hunt in the hospital’s endless white hallways that all looked the same. A kind med-tech pointed V into the right direction eventually and opened the door for him. Now he was sitting in a too comfortable armchair in Dr. Fuente’s office. He had been a little early, but she was close to running late. V wasn’t sure if he liked it better that way or not.

His neck was stiff and hurt, partially from the accident still, but also from sleeping on the couch last night, huddled up to Kerry closely. After their pizza had arrived, they’d watched old movies until they both eventually dozed off. Falling asleep to the bad audio of an old action film and Kerry’s soft snoring had been another of those moments he wouldn’t have minded lasting a lifetime.

He pulled up the files on Fuentes again, gave them another quick read. Nix had sent them late last night and V had studied them over breakfast this morning. He had come to the same conclusion as the Afterlife’s resident netrunner: nothing too out of the ordinary with this doctor. At least on the surface.

Isabella Fuentes was born January 19th, 2024, in Puerto Rico. When she was two, the family moved to Tucson, Arizona. She was divorced, had two daughters, both adults around V’s age. One moved to Los Angeles two years ago, the other still studied at NCU. Fuentes herself had come to Night City with a medicine scholarship for the same university back in the middle of the century.

So much to the pretty ordinary basics. But V perked up when he learned that soon after finishing her studies, Fuentes worked for BioDyne for a considerable number of years. During their first meeting she had been quite adamant about not having any loyalties to that particular corporation. Nix was unable to turn up details on why – or how – she left, but that she got out of the corporate world alive after such a long time spoke for itself. BioDyne may not have been as militaristic as Arasaka, but V doubted they just let go of long-term employees without repercussions for either side.

After the end of her corporate career, Fuentes worked for Trauma Team briefly, in the field. She was injured during the time of the Unification war, although not related to war activities. She continued on the administrative side as she recovered and eventually took on her current role at the MedCenter’s neurology department. Ever since the end of the war she’d been exactly there, predominantly helping veterans and contributing to studies in her field. A long and remarkable career so far, even if not nearly as prestigious as it could have been with her prerequisites. V was certain there were parts of her past she would like to avoid talking about, and Nix had offered to dig deeper into some aspects… But for now, V was content with what he had. The rest would be determined by how this meeting went.

It was almost 10:15 at this point, no sign of the doctor still. V took a deep breath and looked around the room. The office was on one of the higher floors of the building. Not overly large or impressive, but it had a decently sized window. The shutters were closed, sadly, otherwise the view across Little China may have been quite beautiful this morning. All light came from some simple embedded ceiling lights, a warm white glow, a barely audible hum. The furnishings were sparse, a large grey desk front and center, two armchairs, an office chair, all upholstered with white synleather. V had uncomfortable flashbacks to Blue-Eyes’ office, but this room was thankfully too narrow for secret floor compartments containing synthetic bodies. The wall to his right was lined with shelves displaying mostly books, documents, and data shards, as well as a few personal items. Some quaint figurines that could’ve been Mexican, but V wasn’t sure. Souvenirs from a trip long in the past. There also were some tiny, colorful flowerpots that looked like they were hand-painted by children, containing even tinier succulents that may have been just plastic. To his left, on the wall opposite to the bookshelves, was a door, but not the one he had entered through. Just when he finished the thought, V suppressed a wince as the door right behind him slid open and a slightly out of breath Dr. Fuentes finally entered her office.

“Please excuse the delay, I had an emergency this morning and my whole schedule is shifted now,” she said, then stopped by V’s side briefly, extending a hand. V got up to shake it.

“Good morning, first of all,” she said, nodding and smiling politely, “I’m happy you’re back. You look better already than last week.”

“Thanks,” V said briefly and sank back into his chair while Fuentes went to open the window shutters, letting in some natural light. She hung her white coat over the backrest of her chair then sat down across from V behind her desk and folded her hands on her lap. Intelligent dark eyes were fixated on him, and V tried not to let his thoughts run too wild just yet with assumptions and theories about potential ulterior motives on her side.

“Alright,” Fuentes said as she had finally caught her breath again, “I suggest we cut straight to the chase.”

“Yes,” V nodded, “Thank you again for taking the time.”

“Of course,” Fuentes nodded, “I have to admit, I have been thinking about you and your case a lot these past days. Even with the limited knowledge I have so far, I still believe I may be able to help. If you are willing to tell me more about your condition now.”

‘Willing’ wasn’t the word V would’ve used. It was more a necessity at this point that he got help.

“I will,” he said, “But only if you can provide me with a certain level of security.”

Fuentes shifted in her chair slightly and frowned, then she opened one of the drawers of her desk and pulled out a tablet. She turned it on and began to search for something on it while maintaining eye contact with V as best as she managed.

“You’ve come here today as my patient. As far as I’m concerned, everything, anything that we discuss, falls under the doctor-patient confidentiality. My contract with the Little China MedCenter binds me to treat your data and information with utmost care and discretion. All data we store is locked away securely, all in accordance with your Trauma Team policy. I can resend you the patient information papers and contracts, although I think most of them you should already have…”

“I care less about the MedCenter than about what you personally do with the information I’m going to give you,” V said, and Fuentes stopped her search, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“I’m not sure what you’re alluding to,” she said, still polite, but shoulders visibly more tense than before.

“Nothing,” V shook his head carefully, “This is just not something I tell every random stranger on the street… no offense, of course.”

He paused.

“If I have to play with open cards, I need you to as well.”

A short, knowing smile flashed across Fuentes’ lips, and again, it was for just a split-second. V had known he was onto something from the first moment they ever looked at each other face to face. The question was not whether or not Fuentes could help him, but if he even wanted her to help him.

Fuentes put the tablet down and leaned back in her chair, brushing a black and grey curl out of her face. The late morning light coming in through the window right behind her framed her in a hazy golden glow, almost as if she wasn’t real, just wishful thinking in a hopeless situation.

“Alright,” she said calmly and nodded, “It is only fair.”

She closed her eyes for a moment, then rested her chin on her interlocking fingers.

“I know very well who you are, V. They call you ‘King of the Afterlife’ on the streets. A mercenary with a background at Arasaka’s department for Counterintelligence, and that’s only where the rumors and hearsay begin... Admittedly, I wonder how much of it all is true.”

V wasn’t surprised. He was certain his old Trauma Team records from his time at Arasaka were still stored somewhere. They must’ve come up when the hospital checked his insurance status after the accident. And the hearsay and rumors, well… Didn’t have to pay a fixer much for that kind of superficial intel.

This was not what he had hoped she would open their conversation up with, but it was a start.

“From my experience, telling the truth is the easiest way to make people believe you’re lying,” he decided to say. Fuentes chuckled briefly, then nodded, serious as ever. She looked him directly in the eyes, piercing, trying to read his thoughts. He wondered if she had cyberoptics – probably, as a neurosurgeon, and with her age. Doubtful though whether she had the means to covertly scan his system and biometrics. She wouldn’t be very successful either way, and the little information of him that was on public record he didn’t care about people knowing.

“Is it true you’re one of the best that money can buy?” she then asked with sincerity. Regardless, this time V was at least a little taken aback by how sudden and straightforward the question came.

“And I thought you wanted to help me, not the other way around…”

He leaned back in his chair too now and crossed his legs loosely. Undoubtedly, he was intrigued by this turn of the conversation, but at the same time his guts twisted into a knot.

“I think we can help each other,” Fuentes said, “And we both have a lot to lose.”

“Is that so?”

She smiled sadly, then shook her head.

“No, actually, I lost a lot already. And not even Night City’s best mercenary could bring it back,” she said, voice calm and composed, “But I would be satisfied just with plain revenge as well.”

The fire in her eyes was reignited, the same fire from their first meeting, the same anger Takemura had always spoken with about “restoring his honor” while to V it had always sounded more like a thirst for revenge at the core. Restoring an order that couldn’t be restored when he could’ve, should’ve just turned his back to the Arasakas the moment he had the chance.

Something like that was easy to say for V, of course, who hadn’t dedicated his whole life to a corporation.

And now, Fuentes, mysteriously non-associated with her former employer BioDyne, spoke of revenge. That could only mean trouble, and V hoped not to a similar degree as with Goro and the Arasakas.

“Not a fan of revenge,” he said truthfully, “It rarely solves anything and only creates more problems, usually.”

Fuentes laughed dryly.

“So what, live and let live?”

“Focusing on just living so far has at least brought me further than trying to get back at everyone who ever wronged me.”

“Maybe you haven’t been wronged badly enough yet then. You’re still young,” Fuentes smiled, but her eyes didn’t. V considered her words for a moment. Somewhere in the distance a barely audible announcement droned over loudspeakers, calling doctor so-and-so to room this-and-that. Otherwise, it was eerily quiet in this part of the hospital. No beeping machines, no hectically running people in the hallways. V began to understand why she’d wanted to meet him in her private office instead of an examination room downstairs now.

“Back in April I was shot in the head by my fixer and dumped in a landfill,” V then said, “I think I’ve been wronged a fair amount in my life so far. Although that surely takes the cake.”

He paused for a moment.

“Admittedly, had I had the chance, I’d returned him the favor. Although, I wouldn’t have called it revenge. Justice suits me better.”

Fuentes said nothing for a couple of moments, just studied his face. V could see her thoughts racing, although he wasn’t quite sure about her next move just yet.

“That’s your old injury?” she then simply asked and picked up her tablet again. She pulled up his brain scans and sat it down in the center of the desk so they both had a good view of the screen.

“A degeneration like this is nothing I’ve ever seen caused by a mere gunshot wound,” she said, “Although, I don’t recall someone still standing in front of me and talking normally with an injury as deep and massive in that general area of the brain…”

V’s pulse sped up just slightly when she looked back up at him again, inquisitive and head tilted slightly.

“You were very lucky…”

“’Luck’ doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface,” he said, peeling away at his cast again. The little plastic barrier between his left thumb and index finger was smooth as glass already from his consistent fidgeting with it.

“Was… or rather, is it an infection?” she continued to inquire, “I can imagine, ending up in a landfill barely alive with a wound like that…”

“I guess you could call it that, although not from the cause you assume,” V smirked, suppressed a chuckle. He almost heard Johnny’s disapproving scoff, saw him in the corner of the room leaned against the shelf, flipping him off with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. Almost, not really. Not like he used to be able to.

“You remember the murder of Saburo Arasaka?” he tried to bring himself back into the conversation, out of his head. He wanted to bait the doctor some more, get her intrigued.

Fuentes seemed confused but nodded.

“His son killed him, or so was the conclusion in the end. Although, I remember assassins were blamed for it at first, hired killers. It was all over the news for weeks, until the parade. Then that was all over the news…”

Slowly, it began to dawn on her.

“You were involved in that?”

“Unwillingly, not directly,” V quickly clarified, “But before I explain how this is all connected and important… What do you want from me?”

Fuentes slumped back into her chair slightly and cleared her throat, disappointed almost.

“Would you be open to a job even if it boils down to a simple act of revenge?” she asked, then huffed amusedly, “I never would have guessed to ever ask a self-proclaimed mercenary that question.”

“Yeah, we’re generally pretty amoral people, all the way through to our cold, money-filled hearts,” V said bluntly, and Fuentes cheeks turned a slightly darker shade. She cleared her throat.

“Don’t worry, I’m joking,” V added after keeping her in suspense for at least a little bit, “Whether or not I take a job usually depends on what I can gain from it, so… Tell me the details. I’m listening.”

“You are very different from how I imagined you,” she then sighed, avoiding answering again, “I was surprised the other day already, but I chalked it up to the shock, your medication...”

V shifted in his seat slightly but tried to keep his posture relaxed and open.

“What did you imagine?” he asked.

“I’m not even sure anymore,” she said, “Less strings attached… or rather, different strings altogether.”

“You thought, ‘I’ll just hire someone to solve my problem for me, how complicated can it be’?”

V couldn’t hold himself back, because very often it boiled down to that. Not that he minded it particularly. Fuentes shrugged.

“Maybe,” she said, “In the end, it doesn’t matter. We’re here now and… And if you can help me with my problem, I’m more than willing to help you with yours free of charge in exchange.”

“Money’s not an issue,” V said, as Kerry had reassured him many times before as well. Truthfully, he still hoped he could somehow get out of having to assist her revenge plans, whatever they were.

“Well… regardless, you may not have a choice but help me.”

And here it was, the catch V had been waiting for, as if she’d read his mind.

“Why don’t we finally stop with the games, and you tell me what you want,” he said, no longer hiding his growing impatience.

Fuentes slowly turned to open a drawer on the other side of her desk. She pulled out a small black shard case, somewhat old-fashioned looking. Carefully, almost as if she feared it could shatter, she placed it on the desk and then slowly slid it closer to V without letting go.

“Have a look,” she said, “Far from a professional dossier, I fear, but I hope it helps as a start.”

V reached out to take the case and ejected the contained shard. He knew the model, knew that even if Fuentes had put a daemon or virus on it and this whole meeting was an elaborate trap, his system had enough countermeasures built in to catch it before it could cause any real damage. Not letting his hesitation shine through he inserted the shard into his free neck slot. A handful of files popped up on his interface, indeed not in the quality or as organized as he was used to from his fixers. But it was a more than decent start for the work of an amateur like Fuentes.

He opened a video clip front and center among the files. It was only a few seconds long and looped, showing a man around Fuentes’ age, maybe a bit older. The quality of the footage wasn’t the best, as if illegally captured from a public camera feed. The man wore a dark suit but was otherwise rather non-descript. Light hair, glasses… ironically, the same way Fuentes kept reminding him of Takemura, this man reminded V of Hellman. He had to do a double take, but no, the more often he saw him get out of a Delamain cab and hurriedly walk towards the entrance of what appeared to be a hotel, the more certain he was that this wasn’t Hellman. V skimmed through the other documents attached.

“Nathaniel Sutter,” he said, as he began to read through the files, “The name rings a bell… Not sure why though…”

Fuentes shrugged slightly and shook her head.

“It would surprise me if you knew him,” she said, “He is good at keeping a low profile, always has been. Finding a way to get to him, wherever he is at the moment, would be part of your job.”

“Last known place of residence Palm Street 78, Apartment 3, Charter Hill. Back in March still. Worked at BioDyne as a high-ranking researcher, manager… stopped active work for the corporation five years ago but remains on the executive board until today,” V summarized what he could gather from the files, some of them internal BioDyne documents he was certain were not meant for outsider’s eyes. Others were reports from business magazines, newsfeed articles, and so on, also not his go-to reading material. But he was certain he’d seen the name before somewhere.

“Let me guess…” he said after copying the data over and ejecting the shard again to return it to its case, “He ruined your career and you wanna get back at him as a late revenge, forever leave him in the unknown about what he did wrong?”

Fuentes smiled and shook her head as she took the shard back from V.

“No,” she said, holding the case gently between her fingertips before slowly looking back up at him, “I want his last thoughts to be regret. I want him to know that it was me who had him killed, and that it was for stealing my life’s work for nothing but the furtherment of his pathetic career.”

She spat her words out like venom, her eyes burning with disdain. V was quick to put two and two together. Also, he liked her bravado. He preferred clients that wanted their targets to know exactly why they met their demise over those who wanted him to do all the dirty work to keep their own conscience and hands clean.

“So, I think what you want is justice as well, not revenge,” he said after a short pause.

“What’s the difference, in your opinion?” Fuentes asked, leaning back in her chair again, eyebrows raised and shrugging slightly.

“Revenge is all about emotion,” V said, “You wronged me, so I’ll wrong you back, because I’m pissed or upset or otherwise hurt. Emotions always make things complicated. Justice, on the other hand, is logical. You analyze what went wrong, how you’ve been wronged… and then find an adequate punishment.”

Fuentes chuckled.

“A mercenary or a philosopher?”

“Neither,” V said, “Not really.”

Fuentes had no response to that, only smiled as if something had just clicked into place. V took the opportunity to change the subject away from him again.

“So, you did work on what they’re now marketing as the cure for MS?” he asked and finally Fuentes nodded. She let out a heavy sigh, her eyes drifting across her bookshelves briefly before finding V’s again.

“Of course, in the end, it was all in the name of BioDyne,” she explained, “It had always been a project intended to create great profits for people already a hundred times richer than what six generations of my family ever called their own. But somewhere deep down I was convinced, young and naïve, that regardless it was an innovation that could save the lives of thousands one day.”

“Was he your supervisor?” V asked, once more pulling up the video of Sutter and sending a handful of somewhat decent still frames to Nix for a quick background check. He would’ve loved to dig up some dirt on him himself, but if Fuentes kept her word he’d still be occupied for a while here for further testing and examination of his symptoms.

“We both started at BioDyne almost at the same time, both fresh out of university,” she explained, “He came here from a different city, and we bonded over both being outsiders in NC. Originally, we also shared similar goals, but somewhere down the line something changed.”

“Heard that story a million times before,” V said, exaggerating, but Fuentes just nodded again, knowingly.

“It’s as old as time,” she said, “But it still hurts, looking back… Anyway yes, you guessed right, he ruined my career – but not even in the sense that I was focused on advancing it. My primary goal was furthering my research, helping people. Long story short, something somewhere was going on in another department of the company, and because of it, even though we were ready, we weren’t allowed to publish our work.”

“Marketing schemes?” V wondered aloud, remembering similar ploys from Arasaka. Two departments that didn’t even know of each other’s existence influenced each other’s operations, which caused many frustrations on both sides. A handful of times it had been down to V and his subordinates even to play two departments against each other to test morale and company loyalty. He was sure all big corporations worked similarly on the inside.

“I have no clue,” Fuentes only shrugged, “I just know one night I went home none the wiser, and the next morning all my data and findings were gone because I had complained about the management’s practices.”

“To Sutter?” V asked and Fuentes nodded.

“He was also the only one who had access to my data, knew where I stored some more obscure findings that weren’t even relevant to our research. It was all gone, and I was told to pack my stuff and leave. And to better keep my mouth shut or else I’d never find work in my field again.”

“How long ago was that?” V asked, just to be sure the information Nix had given him matched up with her story.

“Fifteen years this year,” Fuentes said.

“A long time,” V nodded, “Why now the sudden lust for revenge?”

Fuentes smiled sadly.

“Because the cure is out now and people are being helped,” she said, “I saw some first results and findings, read the recent studies they conducted, and everything is working as intended. I don’t care anymore what happens now, as long as I can be sure my work wasn’t in vain.”

V frowned.

“Your work for BioDyne wasn’t in vain then, no,” he said, “What about you helping me though, what timeline of events are you picturing here?”

If she would only help him after he took care of Sutter and then instantly got assassinated by BioDyne agents, V would’ve been used as nothing but a tool once more. That he refused.

“I guess that depends on how urgently you need my help,” she said, “And how invasive my help is going to have to be.”

She finally returned the shard case to her desk, and V noticed now that there were some additional little clicking noises – a secret compartment probably, as she should keep something like that in one.

“Shall we begin with the classic ‘how are we feeling today, Mr. Ezaki?’, or would you like to continue where we left off, with the infection and the gunshot wound?”

The pit in V’s stomach grew as there really was no way to evade the topic anymore now. Fuentes had played with open cards, given him a decent bunch of incriminating information that he may as well use against her this instant if he wanted to. She’d put her trust in him, now he had to do the same.

“I will omit some details here and there, as they’re not relevant to my current situation anymore,” he began slowly, “And I want to protect the identities of some people – and you from knowing too much, too.”

“Of course,” Fuentes said calmly. V took a deep breath and steeled himself to tell his story once more, and once more as well to a person he barely knew.

“How familiar are you with Arasaka’s ‘Secure your Soul’ program?”

“Somewhat, but only on a superficial level,” Fuentes said, “It didn’t work as intended, as far as I know, but I can do some more reading on it.”

“If you need anything, I can also send you some more substantial data on it. It technically isn’t even classified anymore, was all part of the data leaks.”

More or less, at least.

“Sure…” Fuentes said, “Although I’m not sure I can follow why this is important. Wasn’t ‘Secure your Soul’ marketed as a means to speak to the dead, basically? What the engrams were actually used for in the end we’ll not delve into just now, but… You’re alive, most certainly.”

“Yeah… somewhat.”

V sat up straight again, cleared his throat, and began to recount the events that were set in motion at No-Tell-Motel in the early morning hours of April 17th 2077. He left out most details, especially about the hunt for Hellman, Evelyn’s involvement and what became of her. He didn’t mention Alt or Johnny by name and omitted all that happened in Dogtown entirely.

What he told Fuentes about was the Relic kickstarting him back into life, somehow, Johnny’s presence and his engram creeping into his brain. He explained how the Relic 2.0 was supposed to work and that his didn’t as intended and yet even better than imagined by its creator. He tried to explain what happened at Mikoshi, and how he felt like afterwards, ever since… Blue-Eyes he decided not to mention yet, but he touched upon trying varying “therapies”, of which the most recent one had many undesirable side-effects.

Fuentes listened with great attention, rarely interrupted him, and when she did, only to clarify the more medical aspects V touched upon. She noted down his symptoms during his attacks back then and now, and requested access to any of the scans Vik had done during all this time to get an idea of the overall development of his physical and mental state in the last months.

“So, if I’m understanding you correctly,” she eventually said after V had concluded his story, “The V I’m talking to right now, your personality, memories, and so on… is all stored on the biochip as an engram?”

Hearing it spelled out like that by a stranger somehow made sound even more surreal than it was. Or a slap in the face, a reality check V didn’t want or need.

“Can you understand now why this is not something I want to be public knowledge?” he asked, and Fuentes nodded pensively. She leaned back in her chair for a moment, looked up at the ceiling, then returned her attention back to her tablet.

“Your brain scans seemed so normal though,” she said, pulling the images up again as if she needed to be sure, “Well, a mild concussion, but other than that…”

“That’s beyond what I’m able to explain,” V said, “Some of my previous doctors said brain scans could seem normal on the surface, because my body has to be kept up and running somehow. There is some brain activity, but all higher functions are carried out on the Relic. The chip itself undid some of the damage from the gunshot because it tried to mimic, recreate the engram’s brain. I’m not even sure how far completed the process was, but given how easy it was for him to take over in the end, pretty far I guess.”

V's stomach turned at the thought, the memories, the feeling of sheer helplessness as he could only watch as Johnny piloted his body. Wondering still what happened during the times when he was fully blacked out, as Johnny had never been a fan of telling the whole truth.

Fuentes folded her hands on the table again, brow furrowed and studying V’s face.

“Your own engram can’t settle back in the same way… why exactly?”

“The Arasaka-AI I spoke to said the process I underwent couldn’t be reversed. My theory is that, since this specific Relic is a faulty prototype, it simply is incapable of kickstarting another process of rewiring my brain again. Or even if it could, my body has been through too much already to be able to take such radical adjustments.”

“Some radical measures may be needed indeed,” Fuentes said quietly, and V shivered, “But I am taking into account that you’re currently not in good health and we have to be careful. If you’re willing to accept my help still, of course.”

“I would like to hear out your plan at the very least,” V said, not trying to let his desperation show, “And, for my friends’ sake... maybe you can give me your opinion how bad it is. How much time I got left if things go on like they do currently.”

Fuentes nodded, then they both went quiet for a couple of seconds.

“This Arasaka-AI…” she broke the heavy silence, “Did it ever occur to you that it may have been lying about your condition?”

V thought about it for a moment.

“To gain what exactly?” he wondered.

“Not sure, just a thought,” Fuentes shrugged, “An AI created by Arasaka surely would act in Arasaka’s best interests. In this case, discourage you from leaving and carrying all their secrets out into the world.”

V shuddered, hoped that Fuentes didn’t notice it.

“The engram might’ve done it instead of me, had I given up my body,” he said, he hoped, “Besides, it’s a little bit more complicated than that with this particular AI. But that’s none of your concern.”

“Alright,” Fuentes nodded, “As I said, it was just a thought.”

She picked up her tablet again, read through her notes. Then she motioned to get up from her chair, setting the tablet back down, but hesitated.

“May I have a look at the chip?” she asked, still in her chair waiting for V’s okay. He froze.

“Just the slot, examine it externally,” she clarified, made tapping gestures.

V shifted in his seat slightly.

“I’d just… ask you to be careful.”

“Of course,” she nodded, then got up and slowly walked around her desk, past the bookshelves, coming to a halt to V’s right.

“May I?” she asked, smiling, and moving gently, as if she could sense his tension and fear. She probably could, to be fair. She motioned wanting to touch his head and neck, and after another couple of seconds of hesitation V nodded and turned his head away to bare his neck ports. Fuentes put one hand on the back of his neck, the other on his head, gently and slowly turning it to get a good look.

“Is this alright?” she made sure, “If at any point it hurts, let me know.”

“It’s fine,” V said, his voice much quieter and timid than he wanted. His whole body was tingling from tension and anxiety.

Fuentes’ hand wandered from the back of his neck to the ports behind his ear, embedded directly into his nervous system and connecting what was left of him on that chip with what was left of his body.

“This one?” she said, tapping beside the port that contained the Relic, and V shivered, his entire skin covered in goosebumps in an instant. He couldn’t reply.

“Does it hurt?” Fuentes asked gently, “It doesn’t look infected but…”

“Been having issues with these ports since I was a teen,” V explained briefly, “Didn’t take an upgrade well one time and ever since they’ve been prone to act up.”

“I see…” Fuentes nodded, “I bet slotting an experimental biochip in there didn’t improve the situation.”

“No...”

She let go of his head again and moved away slightly to give him space. V took a deep breath and almost reflexively his hand shot up to his neck, brushing over the slots as if to make sure they were still there.

Fuentes leaned against the edge of her desk, her arms crossed.

“You ever take the metro?” she asked after a pause, “Hang out in shady bars and dark alleys?”

“What?” V squinted up at her, hand still covering the Relic.

“I’m just wondering what you’re doing against picksockets,” she explained calmly, but her brow deeply furrowed with worry, “Or in general, any other protective measures you utilize to not have someone come up at you and yank this from your neck.”

V dropped his hand and began to fumble with his cast again.

“Doing everything in my power,” he said quietly at first, but at the same time, anger welled up in him. At his situation, not at the doctor necessarily.

“I’m well aware how risky it is to just step out the front door like a normal person, when my life is far from that. But… what’s the alternative? Lock myself up until I die?”

Fuentes nodded pensively, understandingly.

“You mentioned this therapy you tried… You think the medication has increased this feeling of apathy, of not being able to voice your thoughts clearly? How long since you’re not taking the pills anymore?”

“Just a day,” V said, not exactly happy about the topic change either.

“Do you feel clearer now than you did a few days ago?”

He paused to really think it through. His emotions were all over the place, the last few days had been an intense firework of horrible impressions and new, uncomfortable discoveries. He’d had troubles being honest with Kerry, although, their argument yesterday morning, even if it hurt, had been very straightforward. Much more so than many of the other conversations they’d had lately.

“I… can’t say for sure,” he said, “Maybe. But I’ve had clearer days in-between occasionally, too.”

“Alright,” Fuentes said, then she walked back to her chair to sit down. She looked at V intensely again for what seemed like an eternity. He didn’t recall the last time he felt as naked while being fully clothed.

“Knowing your case a bit better now, I see two main problems. The first: the decline of your physical and mental health. Your deteriorating nervous system, seizures, depression, depersonalization, and so on. That is something I need to examine more closely, put you through some tests. And we have to run a whole bunch of scans, unfortunately. Some we can do today, but others take some time and require planning in advance.”

“Yay, tests and scans,” V said as unenthusiastically as possible, and he didn’t even have to try hard.

Fuentes chuckled.

“I know, you’ve probably been through that a lot with your previous doctors. If you still have their findings available, I’d love to see them, too.”

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” V said, raising his hand to slow Fuentes down, “But can you tell me like… in general if you have any plan, any idea of how to tackle this already? Just so I know where I’m at.”

In fact, he solely wanted, needed something concrete beyond “we need to do tests” that he could tell Kerry. A sliver of hope, a promise, maybe, that V didn’t need to keep but the doctor. He needed someone else who could take the blame if things went down south if he was being completely honest.

“That would bring me to your second main problem: the biochip continuously taking up a slot in an already strained system while being extremely exposed to external influences,” Fuentes said, “There’s a reason why these slots are not intended for long-term usage, and we rely on built-in cyberware solutions for permanent modification purposes. In your case, you currently have no other choice, of course. But it is still something that should be tackled in the short rather than the long term.”

Fuentes turned the tablet back on and opened V’s brain scans in a program that allowed her to draw onto the 3D-model, visualizing her ideas.

“I should preface this by saying that yes, your case is unique. I’ve never done anything like this before. I have an idea, but I need to do a lot of research and preparations first, still… and you can use that time to prepare everything else you feel you need to prepare… Just in case, if you catch my meaning.”

V swallowed.

“That invasive, then, huh?” he tried to joke to ease the tension. Fuentes smiled sadly. She drew some lines along the backside of the scan of V’s head.

“My current idea is to create a safer container and environment for the chip inside your skull,” she explained, “We can make use of the existing connections… it will have to stay in its port, obviously, but we can pull it inside as a whole and place it roughly here maybe.”

She drew a vertical line along the back of his skull, right at the base.

“The exact spot I’ll have to determine once I have a full scan of your system configuration, nervous system, and so on,” she added, “And yes, the procedure how I’m picturing it right now will be invasive, painful, probably leave scars… but it will contribute to stabilizing the Relic’s overall state, having it in a container actually designed to hold it long-term.”

“I see,” V said, but he struggled to take in the information, even though Fuentes seemed extremely confident and competent in the way she explained and sketched out her thoughts.

“In regard to your deteriorating health, well,” she said after a moment of contemplation, “As I said, I need to run tests first. We need to take as much strain from your body as possible, you need to rest, relax.”

“Easier said than done. There’s an BioDyne executive board member I’ve been asked to kill.”

Fuentes’ face twitched briefly, and she just nodded.

“I know,” she said, voice heavy, “But as I said, there may be no way around it.”

V frowned.

“I think the best way to tackle your health concerns, would be a modified version of the nanobots we used in our studies at BioDyne back then,” she explained, “They’re not the same anymore as the ones utilized in the current treatments, BioDyne heavily controls their usage too. Obviously. But I know for a fact that Sutter kept some of our prototypes to himself, secretly of course. Gloating, and so sure of himself he’d never be discovered.”

V was tempted to ask for a moment what Sutter would keep them for, but with the information he had on him currently, the answer was obvious: to sell them at a huge profit should things ever go awry with BioDyne. Every single person rising high enough in the ranks of a corporation had exit plans like this. Had V not spent his last 6 months at Arasaka high out of his mind most of the time, had he not invested his spare time and money into drugs and random hookups but an exit strategy, he probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Admittedly though, he wasn’t sure where he would be sitting instead, and if he’d be any happier or maybe even more miserable.

“And you could reprogram these prototypes to… reprogram my nervous system, fix all the damages, basically?” V concluded.

“That would be my approach, yes.”

He leaned back in his chair again, rubbed his forehead, his temples throbbing slightly.

“This therapy I tried,” he said, “The one with the bad side effects. I think that one utilized nanobots as well.”

Fuentes tilted her head.

“You think it utilized nanobots?” she asked, “Your doctor didn’t discuss their use with you?”

“It’s… complicated.”

He lowered his hand and looked back at her again.

“Believe me, the less you know about this, the better. But I think I was given something as part of a treatment that I shouldn’t have been given. And I’m not sure how much damage it did. So, I’m a little wary about nanobots reorganizing my brain.”

“Understandable…” Fuentes said tensely, “Well… I can assure you at least that I will not administer anything to you that I did not thoroughly discuss with you before. And have your consent on.”

V nodded weakly, shrugged. Words meant nothing, deeds meant everything.

Fuentes eyes wandered back to her tablet, the 3d model, her notes.

“I wish I had something a little more substantial to offer at this point,” she then said, “I think I could already make a clearer assessment once we’ve run some initial tests.”

V let their whole conversation play in his mind again, trying to think if there was anything left he needed clarification on, anything he forgot to mention that would be important.

“You said that Sutter likely still has the nanobots,” he said, “What makes you so sure that he didn’t sell them years ago?”

Fuentes shuffled slightly, as V seemed to have hit the mark once more.

“Alright, there is one thing I wasn’t entirely honest about,” she said, and V steeled himself for whatever was to come.

“Well, now’s the time to spill it,” he said calmly, “Or I’m out the door.”

Fuentes’ eyes told him that she knew he was bluffing, but she also had to know that this would sooner or later backfire if she didn’t tell the whole truth.

“I’ve been keeping tabs on Sutter with the help of private investigators for years,” she explained, “As I said, he’s a slippery one, always extra sure to cover his tracks... But not impossible to find information on. Right before he disappeared off the face of the earth my P.I. at the time captured the video footage I already showed you, but… that’s just part of the clip. It goes on a bit further.”

“Where’s the rest of it?” V asked, but he knew the answer already.

“Not with me, not here, no,” she said, confirming his suspicion, “I can send it your way via some detours, just in case. But basically, he met with a businessman, and from what my P.I. told me and documented, I’m fairly certain he sold him the bots.”

V sighed.

“Then killing him will only be for your revenge purposes after all and not actually help me…”

Fuentes shook her head.

“No, no. He would still have the blueprints, I’m certain. He has to. He has a special memory chip, almost impossible to trace, that he kept all important data on that no one else should get their hands on.”

“In a ‘sell his nanobots but keep them too’ kinda way?” V asked, and Fuentes nodded.

“He prided himself with being so smart and playing everyone all the time. The chip is, according to him, pretty much unhackable, unretrievable. Killing him would instantly delete the chip’s contents, too, so, no point in doing that.”

“How to get your hands on it then?” V asked, “Cut it out of his body while he’s still alive?”

Fuentes said nothing, only looked down to her lap.

“Fantastic…” V sighed.

“I’m sorry,” Fuentes said, “There’s a reason I didn’t want to start off with this.”

“And you’re still not even sure if there is anything useful on the chip, mind you,” V said, trying to remain calm, “And you’ll still have to construct, reprogram, and get the nanobots working if I can get my hands on the blueprints at all. If I even manage to find Sutter. That is a lot of ifs in return for even more uncertainty.”

“Of course,” Fuentes said quietly, “I can promise you that constructing and adjusting the nanobots to work for your particular condition actually is not as complicated as it sounds. I would need a DNA sample from you from prior to the gunshot wound, but I’m relatively certain your profile is stored in your old Trauma Team records from your time at Arasaka.”

“Probably, yeah,” V said.

“There are means and ways, always,” Fuentes nodded.

“What if there are no blueprints, if he sold them together with the bots?”

“I could look into alternatives… constructing new bots from scratch would certainly take longer. A month or two but given your condition we might not have as long.”

“If I could get my hands on the bots from my therapy,” V suggested, “Could that help?”

Fuentes hummed.

“I would certainly like to take a look at them, yes. If only to tell you what exactly they’re doing and if they could be causing your symptoms.”

V shifted to reach into his jacket’s inner pocket, pulling out a ziplock bag with the pills coming from Mr. Blue Eyes. Fuentes’ expression was almost hilariously confused when he dropped the bag on the table.

“Don’t ask,” he said, “My Ripper thinks there’s nanobots embedded in these pills.”

“Not quite how you’d administer them, necessarily…” Fuentes mused as she picked up the bag and held it up against the light, “They’d have to dissolve over time or otherwise leave the body eventually, as you’d keep adding new ones by taking new pills. Not impossible, but the standard procedure is introducing them via the spine and extracting them again once their task is completed.”

“Everything about this whole situation is a special case,” V said, “I would say ‘I’d love to hear anything you figure out’… but actually, I’m not sure if I really do.”

Fuentes nodded sternly and put the pills away safely in the same secret compartment her shard on Sutter was stored in.

“I will have a look at them later,” she promised.

“Alright,” V said, holding on to the armrest with his healthy hand, “Anything else you can tell me that I need to know?”

“There is… one more thing,” Fuentes nodded, “I know where Sutter is.”

She paused, but V didn’t know what to respond.

“But you’ll still have to figure out how to get to him, I’m… drawing a blank on that.”

V squinted.

“You’re making it sound like he’s on the moon.”

Fuentes laughed weakly and tapped something into the search bar on her tablet.

“Almost.” she said. Then a familiar advertisement started playing on the screen.

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

>> Next Chapter (tba)

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

Notes:

This one has been in the works since January, and chapter 14 is almost done actually, as I let this one here sit and stew a bit in between, dreading the editing xD Ngl, when it comes to the medical stuff I always struggle a bit, because I want it to be realistic, but I also have no clue about much xD I hope this isn't all too long-winded and was still an enjoyable read with some twists and turns as V and Dr. Fuentes try to always keep the upper hand against the other, subtly!

I really wanted to develop the doctor a little bit more, give her an interesting background and shady goals and have those all make sense in the grand scheme of things... Maybe you can already guess where her enemy Sutter's exit strategy led him to, where V has to follow soon? 👀

Next chapter out hopefully soon! :D

Requested Fic Update Tags:

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

[the-archangel]

[the-archangel]

What a good fic can do

[the-archangel]

Finally!

We've all waited for it to happen, for weeks and weeks we've hung on, finally it does and V is awestruck - and maybe Johnny is too. Also, it's accidentally exactly 1000 words long and still very little happens!

“It’s 4AM V, go the fuck back to sleep.”

V had been tossing and turning for hours, Johnny could sleep through that, but now he’s (albeit very quietly) talking to someone over the holo and that’s just a step too far.

“Gimme a minute,” the merc whispers softly to whoever is in the other end of the call, “Just fuck off if I’m disturbing your beauty sleep, no one asked you to lurk on the side of my bed.” he hisses to Johnny.

“Where else am I going to go in the middle of the night? Sides, I’ve been looking after your interests.” V looks at the Rockerboy quizzically. “The egg moves…”

V follows Johnny’s eyes over to the other side of the room, it was on the tip of his tongue to ask what new gonkery Johnny had dreamt up to stop him talking to Kerry when he saw it, the egg moved. “I’ll call you back.” he tells his new input and crawls over the bedding to sit next to his imaginary friend. “What’s it doing?” he asks in hushed tones.

“How the fuck should I know?” Johnny replies, “and why are we whispering?”

V shrugs, if he’s honest the stupid egg had been sat in that bowl for so long he’d presumed it was a lost cause, but there it was rattling around the ceramic and making a gentle tapping noise. “How long’s it been, y’know, moving?”

“Couple of hours. Few more and you’ll be living the high life.”

Johnny receives another confused look, “What?”

“Think of the eddies V, there’s idiots who’ll pay through the nose for an iguana.”

They sit staring a little while longer as the egg jumps and skitters around the bowl, “What’s an iguana?”

The exasperated look Johnny gives V is almost audible, “It’s a lizard,” he tells him surprisingly patiently, “mostly found in South America. Though where a low-rent merc like you found it I can’t imagine. Been looking at that thing for months wondering if it was ever going to do something.”

V goes over to the bowl crouching until it’s at eye level and looking with child-like wonder as a tiny crack appears in the shell. “Got it from Yorinobou’s suite at Konpeki Plaza, wasn’t even sure the lizard was real, it was just sitting there like some kind of weird statue. Thought the egg would make a preem souvenir… though it turns out I got more than one of them that day.”

Johnny nods, “Shoulda maybe stopped at the lizard.” He looks at the back of V’s head waiting for a reaction, receiving none he crouches down beside him joining the vigil. “Look, you can see it through the crack.”

Sure enough, movement can be seen through the growing crack, a tiny nibbling action working on expanding the hole and making an escape.

“I used to know a guy in the market in Japantown that traded in exotic shit like this, doubt he’s still there but someone over there’s bound to still do shady lizard related dealings.” V nods in a non-committal way, he’s mesmerised by the newly revealed pink nose poking through the gap with every nibble. “Ten thousand at least,” Johnny continues, “prolly more, if you’re lucky there’s a few gonks out there ready to get into a bidding war for a super-rare dude like this one.”

“Jackie would’ve really loved this,” V murmurs wistfully, “he’d be calling Misty over so they could sit and watch it together thinking of names and picking out tanks.”

“Yeah well, you’ve just got me. Call it Eddie and let someone else do the hard work.”

The two men continue to stare at the slowly dissolving egg, mesmerised by the emerging hatchling. When nothing appears to happen for several seconds the pair exchange worried looks, but the tiny animal is merely taking a breather from its hard work and soon resumes the destruction of its former home. More of its face is revealed, big eyes and bright green skin, a pink tongue helping it gulp down its first meal. V’s face softens, this may be the most magical thing he’s ever witnessed – apart from that one guy who miraculously came back to life after V’s blades cut his head off, but that was more a cyberware malfunction than an actual miracle.

“What do iguanas eat?”

“How the fuck should I know, bugs or some shit. It’ll do just fine in here.”

V considers giving Johnny a dark look for that crack, but he has a point; Nibbles is often noisily wrestling some sort of wildlife in the middle of the night.

“You’re not seriously thinking about keeping it? Think of the eddies!”

Both pair of eyes swing back to the tiny lizard drawn by the sound of the egg shell quietly falling to one side allowing the hatchling to push itself free and lay panting in the detritus. It’s intelligent eyes roam curiously around the room finally focusing on a surprised Johnny who lifts a finger to stroke it’s head. “It can see me!” He marvels as the creature preens under his touch.

“There’s a tank at Jackie’s place we could use,” muses V.

“Nah, this one’s a free spirit. Let it have the run of the place, it can share bug duties with your ugly cat.”

“The ugly cat you spend most of the day murmuring to whilst you’re both curled up on the couch?”

“Only cuz you’re such shit company. Look, it wants to get out of the bowl”

V gently lets the lizard skitter onto his hand and holds it up to look it over. Johnny leans in looking over V’s shoulder and the men have matching smiles as the hatchling’s tail wraps around V’s wrist. “I think I’m gonna call it Jack.” The brown eyes look straight into V’s and seem to approve.

“Yeah, that’s a good name, I’m just gonna, y’know keep an eye on it for while.”

“You do that Johnny.” Says V grinning.

[the-archangel]

what deciding on romance options was like for me

[the-archangel]

It's almost been a year since I discovered Cyberpunk and in due time Kerry. I love this fandom. laughing as I've definitely spent over 24 hours drawing him.

Here to 2024 of me flooding etsy with Kerry merch 🕺😌�� next week getting all these artworks as prints/restocks. Keep winning Kerry crew!

[the-archangel]

I cannot overestimate how much I love this, thank you soooooo much for all your hard work - it’s perfect :)))

Gift for @the-archangel for the CP2077 New Year's exchange @cp77nyexchange! Prompt is based off a paragraph from this fic, I hope you like it! :)

[the-archangel]

Never Tear Us Apart

Part of the @cp77nyexchange for @elvenbeard, hope it's just what you always wanted!

There was a time not so long ago that just waking up with a roof over his head was enough for V, hell whether he’d wake up at all wasn’t something he took for granted. If he really tried, he could have imagined finding the Eddies to rent his own place again; as long as there was a bookshelf, a bed and a laptop he would be more than happy, but anything on top of that would have seemed a pipe dream.

Relationships were definitely off the cards too, the couple of times he’d dabbled in the fetid waters of the Night City dating pool he couldn’t swim away fast enough, there may be plenty of fish in the sea, but most of them were either sharks or blobfish.

As for work, much as he hated everything Arasaka stood for it was at least a steady job with regular pay and when it was over the choices were limited, since selling his ass on a street corner didn’t particularly appeal, he fell into the merc work and turned out to be pretty good at it. But the jobs and the training took over his life and for the kind of crappy gigs he was getting the pay was scop too, all he could see in his future was the same again, day after day, though on the upside mercs didn’t tend to live to be old and grey so it wouldn’t be his future for very long.

That’s why, every morning, rain or shine, good sleep or bad, V smiles. He’s got more than he ever imagined and although ‘stuff’ doesn’t make him happy, security and love definitely do and he has both of those in abundance.

Kerry never doubted that he’d be successful and wealthy, it took years of hard work and some shady decisions sure, but he knew he’d get there in the end. What he did doubt was that he’d ever find someone to share his life with.

At first, he just didn’t see the point, he fell in love every week, every day sometimes and would give the object of his affection every ounce of his being for the time they were together, until, like a magpie attracted by shiny things, he’d find a new obsession and move on without looking back. That lifestyle took it’s toll though, he was getting a reputation and making increasingly poor choices so he took himself out of the loop, went back home and returned some time later with a new mindset, he was ready to find ‘the one’. That was over forty years ago and much as he’d found several ‘definitely not the one’s’ in that time, it was only in the last few years that he could say he’d succeeded.

Right now, ‘the one’ was back home in Night City, Kerry had never wanted to go home as badly as he does right now, but there’s one more day and night of schmoozing and interviews to get through first and, since he’s in New York for the first time in forever, some Christmas shopping to catch up on.

-

“Hey,”

Kerry’s voice in V’s holo is heavy with sleep but still sexy as fuck.

“Hey back atcha, how’s it goin’?” V says brightly from his nest of pillows, Nibbles purring softly at his side.

“Shiiit, I’m sorry V, y’know I always forget about the time difference, I just…I just really missed your voice.”

“It’s fine,” chuckles the fixer, “been up for a while, emails to catch up on and stuff. Was going for a run but the weather’s stupid right now,” he turns around his optics to let Kerry see the view from their window. “Storm’s not even properly here yet and it’s already like Ragnarök out there.”

The storm had been working its way up the coast for days, Pacifica was getting the worst of it right now, so it was only a matter of hours before it hit Little China, the sky was already black, the dark clouds skittering madly ahead of the incoming wind.

Kerry’s perfect brows meet in concern, “You gonna be alright up there? Maybe you should go to the villa, might be safer.”

“Sure, a house on the top of a hill is way safer than a modern apartment block, I’ll be fine working from home and just using the gym downstairs. Don’t worry.”

Kerry still looks unsure, “Fine, just…just keep me updated. Be on my way back this time tomorrow, can’t wait.”

“Mhm, me either, we can order in some food and have a cosy movie afternoon.”

“Sounds preem, love you.”

“You too Ker, speak soon.”

The holo darkens and V’s voice fades, it’s been a long couple of days but thank fuck it’ll be over soon.

-

New York is bright, but cold. Wrapped up in his padded jacket and scarf, the world-famous Rockerboy is completely anonymous, not that anyone around here cares who he is anyway. It’s a relief to be able to walk the streets without being mobbed or molested, though he still has a security guard following at a discrete distance.

Kerry loves buying presents, he can happily spend days picking out the exact right thing and the recipient always reacts with surprised delight, all except V. V is horrible to buy for, he asks for nothing because he wants nothing, says he’s got everything he needs; Kerry sees it as a personal challenge to find him a gift that will blow him away. He’s pretty sure he’s aced it this year, just needs to pick it up.

-

V wasn’t telling Kerry the absolute truth, he really wasn’t planning on leaving the penthouse, but he wasn’t there working and he wasn’t alone. He slides out from under the sheets puts his sneakers back on and picks his coffee up from the side table with Nibbles following him back down the stairs into the living area.

Sitting on the bottom step sipping at his drink, V watches the chaos unfold around him. Dark greenery is being swathed and erected around the room, whilst purple and gold accessories adorn the foliage and surfaces. He moves to one side to allow a small, busy woman in a red pantsuit to wrap the banister rail in ivy and pine, several other similarly dressed workers are putting their designer touches to the trees and bookshelves.

With only a few days to go until Christmas, the weather had forced Kerry and V to change their plans and spend the holidays at home instead of at the mountain cabin, as long as they were together neither minded too much, but it did mean that all the decorations and food that had been delivered up there were now only for the benefit of the staff. Before Kerry left, they’d decided to have a quiet day and make up for it on New Year’s Eve, but V knew that Kerry loved Christmas and really loved the over-the-top flamboyance that was positively encouraged at this time of year, so he wasn’t going to let him down. It had been tricky to find someone to do it at such short notice, but the Eurodyne name – and its Eddies – open a lot of doors.

-

Kerry’s day was dragging, interview after interview asking the same questions over and over. He wasn’t much of a clock watcher, barely knew what day it was sometimes never mind what time, but today the clock in the corner of his Kiroshis is counting him down to when he can finally pack his bags and head home. His initial intent was to set off in the morning, but fuck that, he can sleep on the plane, so he has his manager book a flight a couple of hours after his last commitment, his fifteenth hosting spot on SNL, and uses the time between interviews to pack his bags.

Back home, V watches Kerry’s performance on the big screen, cheesy as some of it is, he still finds himself smiling proudly throughout, a small, unsure part of him still finding it hard to believe that the Rock God on TV is his mainline. He knows that every look into the camera and every cheeky smile is his alone, safely away from the ongoing storm, and with a snoring Nibbles on his lap, there’s only one thing that could make this evening cosier.

Even as the credits are rolling a call comes through on the holo, “Heeeey V, bags are in the car I’m on the way to the airport.”

“Thought you weren’t setting off until morning?”

“I just want to be home, with you Vince. Besides, I’ve got something for ya.”

V groans inwardly, Kerry knows he’s not good with receiving gifts but he tries just the same, “That’s great Ker,” he fibs, “I’ll see you in a few hours, be safe.”

“You know I will, love ya V.”

“You too ya gonk.”

-

There are some things that even money can’t fix, chief amongst these is the weather. For the third time it is painstakingly being explained to Kerry that there are no direct flights to the West coast tonight, none, nada.

Kerry stops his complaining for a moment to take in what the airport security was telling him, “No, direct flights, fine,” This is why he usually has ‘people’ to do this shit for him, “what about indirect ones?”

An hour later he finally makes a flight, not to NC but to what remains of some place called Bakersfield, then there would be a two-hour drive the rest of the way, could be worse so he tries to stay upbeat explaining the sitch to V.

“How long til you land?” asks V sleepily.

“Bout four hours I think, get some sleep baby, I’ll be there before you know it.”

If V was sleepy, then Kerry was positively exhausted, the long days, the time difference, the lateness of the hour all took their toll and Kerry is asleep in moments.

-

“I’m sorry to disturb you Mr Eurodyne, but we’re about to land.”

Kerry is woken from a deep sleep, momentarily confused and disoriented he soon turns it back on for the air steward, “Thanks doll, congrats on the uber-comfy seats.”

The pretty steward smiles broadly– she had a poster of him on her wall at home and was quite star-struck– and advises him to fasten his seatbelt.

-

Making his way through the airport animatedly ‘discussing’ with his manager over the holo how to progress with the rest of the journey, Kerry doesn’t notice he is being followed and so is not at all ready when a strong hand grabs his wrist and spins him around…

“Vince!” he cries, happily burying his face in the other man’s neck and enjoying the sensation of being held in warm, safe arms. “Not gonna pretend I’m not pleased to see you, but what you doing here, it’s the middle of the fucking night, at least I think it is, it’s pretty dark anyways.”

V chuckles into Kerry’s collar, he could be such a gonk sometimes, “Couldn’t leave you to drive all that way alone. You’ve crashed your car twice this year just going to the other side of North Oak, I’d never be able to sleep knowing you were driving all this way.”

Both men lean into the hug a moment longer, then make their way hand in hand to the car, oblivious to the fuss and photos going on around them. “You were right about one thing,” V tells his mainline, “it really is the middle of the night, gonna sleep for a week when we get back.”

“Gonna sleep for a week eventually,” corrects Kerry.

-

The storm has abated, the usually littered streets of Night City look cleared somewhat, though looking into the darker corners reveals detritus - both human and otherwise - better left unexplored. Kerry always feels a weight settling on him when he returns, it’s comforting in some ways and has lessened of late, but it’s a constant reminder that he is fragile and mortal and he hates it. He’d snoozed away the last couple of hours, but wakes to the sun just rising above the horizon illuminating the neon and dust with a yellowish hue.

“I love this time of day,“ V says softly, somehow aware that Kerry has awoken, “the City looking fresh and new, full of possibilities.”

“As long as its full of coffee and toast that’ll do for now,”

V smiles and rests his hand on his lover’s thigh, “I’ve got a surprise for you back at home.”

Raising an eyebrow, Kerry looks deep into V’s emerald-green eyes, “I thought you said you were tired,” he smirks.

“Not that kind of surprise, at least not yet, you’ll see.”

-

Elevator music has not improved over the last hundred years or so, V grins and Kerry groans as a tinkly, jolly version of ‘User Friendly’ floods the small compartment, thankfully the journey isn’t a particularly long one and the doors to the penthouse slide open silently. Kerry lifts his head from where it had been resting on V’s shoulder, the twinkling lights reflected in his sapphire eyes.

“Shiiit Vince, it’s beautiful. When did you have time to do all this?” he asks stepping into the suddenly unfamiliar living space with wonder.

“Um, I managed to persuade the company that does the set design for your shows to loan us some stuff, they came over and…”

The sentence is stolen away by a fierce kiss from the Rockerboy who now looks at his lover, tender hands framing his tired face, “I don’t deserve you, but I’m never fucking letting you go.”

Another kiss and V leads Kerry through the golden and purple lights to the promised coffee and toast.

-

“You know I said I got you something?” Asks Kerry, espresso in one hand and half-eaten raisin toast in the other.

“Mhm,” answers V through a mouthful of cereal.

“Well, um…” Kerry is rarely tongue-tied, but finds himself anxious now the moment has come. Although always appreciative, V has never been impressed by a gift that Kerry (or anyone) had given him, though this one would be tricky to hide in a cupboard or re-gift. “Gimme a minute.”

Rummaging around in one of the bags still dumped by the elevator door, Kerry pulls out a slightly crumpled old-school cardboard folder tied with a ribbon, whilst V tries to organise his face and thoughts into something that looks and sounds grateful for whatever this turns out to be.

“You could’ve just emailed whatever this is y’know.”

“It’s Christmas, I wanted something you could hold in your hands, but you don’t need to hold it like it’s gonna explode, go on baby, open it.”

V places the folder on the counter and pulls on the ribbon with Kerry nervously looking over his shoulder, a hand resting gently on V’s hip. He watches as V first looks at the photo before placing it to one side and reading the paperwork with a furrowed brow.

“Erik?”

“Yeah, I thought he’d be company for Nibbles, we’re kinda away a lot and she gets lonely. Thought it’d be fun for her – and us - to have a kitten around. Can’t pick him up for a few weeks yet though.” Kerry bites his lower lip and looks up at the ex-merc for a reaction.

“You got me a kitten, seriously?”

“Kinda,” Kerry’s arms fall to his sides and he walks away perching on the edge of the coffee table, no longer able to look V in the eye, “Keep reading…”

There’s silence as V works his way through all the sheets in the folder, Kerry quietly slips out onto the balcony for a smoke and soon strong arms wrap around him and he leans back into the hug with relief.

“You’re completely mad, you know that right?”

“It’s been said. Just thought, y’know, if we owned the cat sanctuary then we know they’ve got everything they need and that they’re being looked after properly, and as an added bonus you can go over and pet the inmates whenever you’re feeling stressed.”

V hugs his mainline a little tighter, kissing him behind the ear. “Plus, it’ll give you something to do when you’re too old and doddery to go on stage anymore.” he whispers.

A well-placed elbow to the ribs makes V gasp and then giggle, he takes Kerry’s hand and leads him towards the living area and huge projector screen for the promised movie afternoon, though not much of the film is actually watched; both are gently snoring in each other’s arms within moments.

[the-archangel]

john wick is weirdly cyberpunk for a series that isn't cyberpunk <- insane

[the-archangel]

Merry Christmas chooms- don’t drink and ride!

[the-archangel]

V for Vengeance

This took ages and is very long I'm sorry! Might be better reading it on AO3 :)

“You don’t know what I’m thinking any more Johnny, leave me alone,” spits V as he stalks down the grimy, neon-flooded street with his collar up against the rain.

“Yeah, I kinda do,” the most recently appointed Afterlife merc explains as he rushes after him, “and this is a fucking gonk idea.”

V had been brewing for days, ever since Kerry told him about the time he’d been kidnapped and held to ransom by scavs. Kerry had intended it as an amusing drunken tale, it’d been all over in less than 24 hours and he’d been that high at the time he hadn’t really noticed it happening, but V was not so green when it came to dealing with scavs, he knew what would’ve happened if the record company hadn’t coughed up the eddies and was determined to fill in the details of the hours that they held the Rockerboy, no matter how unsavoury.

“Seriously V, it was twelve years ago, they’re all either dead or they’ve moved on by now.”

Stopping in his tracks, V looks intently at the dark-haired man, “You don’t have to come with me Johnny, I never asked you to.”

“I know,” answers Johnny darkly, “maybe you should’ve. You’ve got no idea what you’re looking for.”

“Neither have you! You were a data stream living in a freezer at the time, how exactly does that make you any more qualified than me to find them?” It’s a fair point, and one that V knows Johnny is not pleased to be reminded of. “Look, if you wanna help fine, just try not to be a pain in the ass.”

“Can’t promise anything,” Johnny mutters turning to follow his friend down the street.

-

Kerry had just done one of the best shows of his life – or so the bassist of his backing band tells him as he gives the Rockerboy a sloppy post-gig blow job, despite the best efforts of the younger musician it’s not a relationship, just a habit that they’ve fallen into.

Later, alone again, Kerry messages his kids telling them about the show and asking about their day. He never gets a reply, but he does it every damn day anyway. Then he calls his new manager to see how the attempt to copyright his image is going, but the fucker doesn’t answer, he never fucking answers, Kerry’s beginning to think he made a mistake hiring him. There’s one more call he thinks about making, but he’s had enough rejection this evening and so puts on a jacket and heads out to the waiting car. He doesn’t make it.

-

“Where’re we going?” Johnny shouts after V’s retreating back.

“Pacifica.” answers the other man.

“Woah, we’re not walking to fucking Pacifica.” states Johnny breathlessly as he catches up.

“Course not, there’s someone I need to speak to first.”

Afterlife is buzzing even at this time of the early afternoon, despite it now being V’s kingdom Johnny’s heart lifts a little at the thought of Rogue maybe being there, her visits are increasingly rare, but it is possible. They make their way over to the bar where V has a quick word with Clair before heading to his usual booth at the back, Johnny makes to follow until he sees who V is meeting, he sits at the bar instead nursing a tequila and glaring over petulantly.

“You’re lucky I was in town,” Panam tells V as he takes a seat opposite her and puts beers on the table between them, “another few hours and I’d have been showing this shithole my dust.”

“I know, thanks for meeting me, and…I’m sorry.”

The woman looks over at him with a raised eyebrow, “Luckily for you I’m a big girl capable of making my own decisions. Something more than we had might’ve been nice, but as far as flings go, it was one of my favourites.” she says taking a swig of beer and sitting back in her seat, one leg resting on the other and arms spread along the back, “But you’re still part of the clan whatever other shit you’ve pulled, what do you need?”

“Info,” says V leaning forward and looking at her seriously, “about twelve years ago Kerry was taken by some scavs, prolly took him somewhere into the Badlands, wondered if there had been any rumours, if anyone knew anything about what happened?”

“Can’t Kerry tell you anything? Surely he’s not gone senile just yet?” she asks with narrowed eyes and a half-smile.

“Heh, you’re a funny girl, but no. He was pretty out of it and he’s kinda blocked it out.” V winces internally at the lie. “So do you know anything?”

Panam takes another swig from her bottle and ponders the question, “Maybe. I was a teenager at the time, a feisty one too if you can believe it, Saul would sit me down and tell me all the reasons why my behaviour was dangerous, or bad for the clan.” V nods, he’s been at the receiving end of Saul’s lectures and knows what they can be like. “Anyway, this one time he was explaining why taking a bike and riding into the town was a dumb idea, he was even more riled than usual, said if the Raffen could swipe a rock star right from outside a stadium, one little girl on a bike would not be able to stop them taking her. Never connected the dots at the time, but I guess he was talking about Kerry.”

“The Raffen huh? I guessed as much, any idea where they took him?”

“No, they had a few bases at the time, I’ll mark them on a map for you.” she says producing a map and pen from her bag, “Saul was a big fan of Kerry’s, shame they never met.”

V hums in agreement, Saul always turned the radio up when one of Kerry’s songs came on and he’d told Kerry stories about the brusque clan leader many times, they could definitely have been chooms. “Thanks Panam, you’ve been a lot of help.”

Panam looks over his shoulder, “Who’s that guy you came in with? He’s been glaring at me for the whole conversation like I should know who he is.”

V chuckles, he often forgets that even people who met Johnny never actually saw Johnny. Before he can explain, the woman interjects,

“Fuck, that’s Johnny Silverhand. I recognise him from Saul’s album covers. That’s Johnny fucking Silverhand!”

Hearing his name, Johnny smiles warily and raises his glass in Panam’s direction.

“Why didn’t he come over with you?” she asks.

Still smiling, V looks over at the dark-haired merc at the bar and lowers his voice, “He’s kinda scared of you, you were pretty angry about him trying to kill me if you remember, he thinks you might try and break his balls over it or some shit.”

“That’s fair, but if the fucker is going with you, watch your back, he’d choose his ego over his chooms any day I’m guessing.”

Once maybe, but not anymore V thinks, but he just nods and finishes up his beer, “Look after yourself Panam, I’ll let you know what I find.”

“Mhm, don’t be a stranger.” the nomad replies giving him a curt nod and walking out of the booth.

Johnny watches as she leaves the bar, “Don’t say it Johnny.” V warns.

“Say what? That she has a nice ass? I’m only human.”

V groans and grabs his jacket from the bar stool, after a last catch-up with Clair they’re ready to leave.

“Need to get the truck from the garage,” V tells Johnny, “it’s gonna get pretty bumpy out there.”

-

Jogging to keep up with V’s accelerating strides, Johnny is struggling to understand the urgency, unsure as to why they need to head to Pacifica now rather than the morning, it is, after all, 12 years since the attack took place so one more day is unlikely to make much difference. V, on the other hand, can’t get there fast enough, the thoughts of what they might have done to Kerry in that time have been festering in his mind and he couldn’t look the man in the face again if he didn’t do something.

As if he’s read the ex-merc’s mind, the holo rings and Kerry’s tired face fills V’s vision. “Heeey V, missed ya today, what ya been doin’?”

“Just dealing with some business Ker, like I said this morning it might take a couple of days. How’s the song coming along?”

The Rockerboy’s lip curls into a grimace, “Meh, can’t seem to get into the groove, y’know I worry about you when you go out on jobs. Throws me off.”

“I promise I’ll be careful and I’ll call you in the morning, get some sleep babe, be back before you know it.”

“Kay V, love ya.”

“You too ya gonk.” V says softy as the call disconnects and he rubs his temple with his fingertips, it’s been a long day and it’s not over yet, “Johnny, you OK to drive? If I don’t lie down, I’ll fall down.”

“Sure, where we going?”

“The stadium.”

-

Johnny had only been up a few hours having not got home until the early hours. He’d thrown himself into the merc work and mostly enjoyed it, but music was still his passion, so he’d been doing the rounds of the open mike nights – heavily disguised of course – just to keep his hand in. Problem was, compared to his old stuff, what he’s writing now is shit. The tunes are fine but he’s struggling to find the lyrics; before, he channelled his lust, anger and vitriol into the words, now all he feels is apathy most of the time. He hates to admit it but, he needs help, he needs Kerry, and if helping V with his gonk plan gets him back in Kerry’s good books then it’s all going to be worth it.

-

Pulling in at the stadium parking lot, Johnny spends a moment taking in how shitty Pacifica had become over the years. He can still remember when it was the promised land, corpos filling the hotels and beaches, not this gang run nightmare before him. It vaguely occurs to him that it’s at least partly his fault, but such thinking could lead to madness so he tucks the thought away to be chewed over another time.

“V, wake up sleeping beauty, we’re here.”

Groggily, the younger man groans and sits up in his seat, “What time is it?” he asks yawning.

“Just after midnight, not much point looking around in the dark, may as well hang here until the sun comes up in a few hours.”

“No way,” stresses V, already getting out of the truck, “this is the perfect time.”

A perplexed Johnny once more finds himself jogging to catch up to his friend, what is he possibly hoping to find after twelve years in the middle of the night?

The stadium is in darkness, the sputtering street lights only adding to the gloom. V stands, hands on hips surveying the side of the building, scanning the area and sighing. The building hadn’t changed much since it was built sixty years ago, flimsy doors, non-existent security, pretty much what he expected, but what had changed was the area. A stadium built so that high-rolling customers could watch a show or game whilst staying in one of the nearby five-star hotels was now next to a derelict shopping mall in what looked like a war zone. Sure, it could still get the big-name acts, but they would travel in from somewhere more salubrious, maybe a place in the City Centre, whilst the audience would make their weary way back to their homes, never once thinking of staying in Pacifica for the evening, no matter how convenient.

  Although terrible for Pacifica, this is in fact great for V’s purposes, the same bums and low-lives have been hanging around the stadium for years and their information is cheaply bought. The nearest liquor store is not far away, Johnny follows his friend hopefully inside grimacing as he chooses two of the cheapest 6-packs available and then helps him carry the bags back to a wall near the stadium. “Now what?” he asks.

“Now, we wait,” the other man replies, popping the cap off a beer and wrinkling his nose at the first sip. They don’t need to wait long, a dishevelled, grey-haired man comes shambling towards them with a younger, twitchy-faced man at his side.

“Care for some company chooms?” he asks in a surprisingly refined voice.

“Sure thing, wanna drink?” The older man nods emphatically, while the younger sits silently crossed-legged, glaring at Johnny and V between violent tics.

The conversation is moved along from government conspiracies (probable) and the latest sightings of a mothman (unlikely but possible) to the things celebrities will do for attention, V’s attention has been wavering for a while, tiredness having caught up with him, but the mention of his mainline’s name, as well as a sharp dig in the ribs from Johnny, perks him up.

“That there Eurodyne fella, they reckon it was all for publicity, saw it with my own eyes…”

“Wait, what?” asks V suddenly wide awake, “You saw Kerry Eurodyne being kidnapped?”

“If that’s what it was, he walked out with them friendly as anything, got in the car no problem, chatting like they were best chooms.”

V is momentarily stunned into silence, processing what he’s being told, “What…what kinda car was it?”

“Nothin fancy, some sort of Thorton. Remember thinking what an odd shade of blue it was, like the sky at dusk.”

Johnny interjects, “Yeah, poetic as all shit choom, tell us everything.”

-

The concert goers had generally been a happy and generous bunch, the bum and his chooms had made a good few euros and scored a few beers and were sat, nicely mellow, waiting for their second chance as the crowds emerged from the stadium. Before that could happen, a side door swings open and a smiling Kerry strides out to the waiting car flanked by what looks like a couple of suited bodyguards and followed by a red-haired woman with a Valentino’s jacket and a distinctive silver leg. In his youth, the man had been a huge fan of Eurodyne’s, posters all over the walls, shelf full of his records, but he hadn’t been so keen on some of his poppy later stuff, so it’s with detached interest that he watches the Rockerboy be led out to the car and directed into the back seat. He seemed in good spirits, clearly high as a kite and slightly unsteady, but not seeming to be in any discomfort, for which V was grateful.

V and Johnny leave the men with what’s left of the beers and make their way back to their car, V is quiet and pensive which is making Johnny nervous.

“They tricked him,” V concludes, “they knew how confused he got when he’d been partying and they tricked him.”

Johnny tries to hide a smirk, the thought of Kerry being so out of it that he didn’t even know he was being kidnapped not only seemed likely, it was not even the first time it had happened. There was that time out in Miami in the 20’s when a deranged fan took him home and fed him pizza and copious amounts of wine before the rocker was found wandering the streets the next morning in a borrowed tuxedo, but V doesn’t need to hear about that just now.

The description of the red-haired woman is making V’s brain itch, there’s something familiar that he can’t quite put his finger on. Johnny drives them into the Badlands whilst V leaves a message for the Padre and falls into a disturbed slumber.

-

In his dreams, V’s leaning on a bar listening as Kerry tells him about his day at the studio. The Rockerboy is hyped and animated, pacing the room and drinking from a tequila bottle. He comes over placing his hand on the ex-merc’s chest and leaning into a sloppy kiss that ends with a bite on the bottom lip hard enough to raise a gasp.

“Something to remember me by.” Kerry smirks as he pulls away.

“Why, you going somewhere?”

Kerry puts his hand on the door to the exit and turns, smiling sadly. Then he’s just gone, disappeared. V searches the room frantically, calling Kerry’s name and pushing on the door, but no one answers and the door won’t budge, then Johnny’s voice is calling him,

“V, shut your whining. You woke me up from a real nice dream you fucker.”

-

The truck is where Johnny parked it in the early hours, shaded from the mid-morning sun by a boulder which also serves to shield them from the road. V groans and stretches, he’s had the full eight hours for the first time in weeks, but still feels like he’s been kicked in the head, and back, and kidneys. “Where are we?” he asks the grumpy ex-rocker groggily.

“’Bout five miles west of Panam’s first marker on the map.”

Nodding, V gingerly leaves the truck, rubbing life back into his legs he leans against the rock to take a much-needed piss, cursing softly as a call comes midway through. Thinking it best to leave the call on audio only for now he greets the caller as cheerily as he can manage, “Morning Padre, thanks for getting back to me.”

“Always a pleasure to be able to help out a brother in need. What can I do for you?”

“The woman I described; do you have any info on her? She rings a bell with me but I just can’t place why.”

“She is called Selene, she was a friend of your mother’s when you were very small, but she left the fold twenty years or so back, went to live with the Nomads so I heard. If you find her, tell her she is forgiven and will be welcomed back.”

“Selene, of course! Any idea which clan she went with?”

“Nothing for sure, though I think the Raffen would be her style.”

V sighs, it’s what he expected if he’s honest, but he hoped otherwise. “Any ideas where she is now?”

“None. I am expecting another call, but wish you luck in your endeavour.”

Thanking the Padre, V wanders back to the truck checking the map and planning a route for the day, he flops down next to Johnny with his back leaning on the tyre of the truck and takes the cig from the other man’s fingers. “I’m thinking if we work smart, we can cover all three camps before dark, then this time tomorrow we can be heading back.”

Johnny nods, working smart is not something he’s often accused of but he can give it a try.

-

V drives the truck to within a couple of miles of the first possible camp, concealing it as best he can between two ridges and makes his way to higher ground with Johnny following grumbling behind.

“Don’t know why we had to set off so fucking early, it’s not like they’re going anywhere. And what’s with all this fucking gear we’re carrying? There’s, like, an arsenal and enough water for a week, I thought we were here for the day not setting up camp.”

V gives a half-smile as he squints at the horizon, Johnny’s whining is actually quite a comfort to him, it means the world is working as it should, “You’d be surprised how much water you get through in the desert Johnny, and we don’t know what we’re up against, better to be over-prepared than under don’t’cha think?”

Johnny grunts non-committally and returns to his binoculars, “What exactly are we looking for?”

“Any sign of movement, the camp should be over to the East by those rocks, looks abandoned but we don’t want to go storming in and find a cave full of scavs coming out to meet us.”

 Having established that the camp at least appears to be all quiet, the boys stay low as far as possible and cover the last two miles without incident. The camp has clearly been abandoned for some time; empty crates litter the ground inside the mouth of the cave which was the main living quarters of the camp. Mildewed bunk-beds line the walls, nothing of value has been left behind, no handy clues. Sitting in the mouth of the cave sharing a bottle of water and a cig, V optimizes the route to the next camp whilst Johnny squints critically at a shard he’d found on one of the bunks,

“The Benefits and Drawbacks of Adaptive Technology and its Impact on Society at Large, huh.”

“Hmm?”

“Nothin, just some chip I found.” explains Johnny tossing it in his backpack to maybe read on the boring ride back later.

-

Their next destination is almost thirty miles to the north mostly over flat ground but the last few miles are a challenge even for the Mackinaw that bounces from dune to dune and jostles its passengers unrelentingly. Johnny clings onto the grab handle biting back his criticisms of V’s driving for fear of being left in the middle of nowhere to find his own way back. It’s a good choice. V had also had enough of the challenging terrain and was in no mood to deal with Johnny’s shit.

“Gonna have to park up for a while, this shitty truck is gonna work my optics loose if we carry on much longer.”

“I think there’s a gas station just up there,” Johnny points hopefully towards a fuzzy, gas-station shaped building on the horizon, “we could aim for that, regroup, grab some food.”

Food sounded good, they hadn’t eaten since the previous evening and the sun is now right overhead, there’s some jerky and trail mix in the truck, but they hadn’t got quite that desperate yet. The building is indeed a gas station, not only that but there is an outdoor seating area where they now are eating reheated burritos and sipping on mercifully chilled water. Johnny squirms uncomfortably in his seat, there are many benefits to having a flat ass, leather trousers hang well, chicks dig it, but long road journeys are just a pain in it.

“So, what’s the next plan of action?” he asks V in between bites of his disappointingly bland lunch.

“The guy in the store said there’s still some Scav action out here from time to time, so we don’t wanna go storming in, just in case. We’re still about four miles out, just over that ridge should be an old farm that they were using as a base.” V tells Johnny indicating a distant sand dune. “We get the truck to this side of the ridge, sneak around and see what we can see.”

Johnny nods, aiming his screwed up empty foil into the trash and smirking as he hears it rattle around the can and hit the bottom.

-

“Shit.” hisses V as he scans the farm buildings from the top of the ridge. There is clearly movement, things being loaded onto trucks. It looks like they might have caught the goons just as they’re moving on, which does not suit their purposes at all.

“Think fast Johnny, what do we do?”

Johnny looks up briefly whilst lighting his cig, the light of the match illuminating the surprised look on his face, since when does V ask his advice about merc work? “We could wait til one of them is separate from the group and bring them over for a little chat?”

“Mhm, there’s a guy over there keeps disappearing off for a smoke, we could follow the ridge around and see where he goes.”

Just as V had said, around five minutes later the man dumps a crate in the van and makes to the back of the substantial barn where the van is parked, the mercs (V is allowing himself the title back, just for a couple of days) follow along and down the ridge until the sharp smell of the man’s sweat and cheap cologne assaults their noses. Luckily for them, he is concerned only with checking his messages and not expecting to be forcibly dragged over the rocky ground with a gun to his head and a hand over his mouth.

They really should have decided what to ask him before dragging him behind the ridge, after all, he was clearly too young to have any knowledge of the kidnapping, fortunately he helps them out,

“Aw I knew you’d catch up to me sooner or later, I’ll tell you anything and I’ll run to the hills if you let me go, you’ll never hear from me again.”

Johnny and V have no idea who the guy thinks they are, but can’t pass up such an opportunity,

“We’ll think on that,” Johnny tells him, “all depends on how good the info you give us is.”

“Looks like you’ve been keeping busy,” V chips in, “what have you been doing out here these past few, er, weeks?”

As promised, the man spills everything, the camp has been here for several months though he’s only been with them for three weeks, other than a few local raids nothing of any note has happened. They are moving East to an old warehouse that was used in the 60’s as a base, to join with another faction in order to pull off some heist. The whole shebang is being run by a woman with faded red hair who’s name he didn’t catch who was here a couple of days ago but has since returned to the warehouse.

With a pistol-backed warning not to look back, they watch the man sprint into the distance and think about their next move. The warehouse seems to be the last place Panam marked on their map so they don’t need to follow the goons in order to find it, in fact it would be better to get there before them so that there’s less to deal with, but not searching the farmhouse might lead to them missing a vital clue.

“How sneaky are you feeling?” V asks Johnny.

“I can do it if I have to, but I’d rather just shoot them in the head.”

“Maybe when your aim improves, we’ll go with your plan, until then, follow me up to the back window.”

Johnny opens his mouth to say something, but for once thinks better of it and follows V up onto a dumpster, across an awning and in through a handily open window, dropping silently on the other side into what appears to be a command centre of sorts. There are tables and chairs scattered around, empty wrappers and cups, but nothing that presents as a clue.

The next room has been used as sleeping quarters, sheets are strewn around, pillows scattered, and the smell from the unwashed linen and half-eaten food left on all the available surfaces is almost unbearable, Johnny finds it almost overwhelming, he’s still getting used to having his senses back and is having to fight against the urge to pass out from the stench.

The last room on this floor is smaller but had been kept neat. There’s a cot in the corner with the sheets removed and a few bits of sparse, but clean furniture.

“Nothing in here to see,” says V rattling a drawer back into place just as a goon, who’d been hiding behind the door waiting to make his move, hits him clumsily but solidly on the shoulders and flies towards the stairs to make his escape. Johnny takes chase narrowly avoiding a door to the face as the man flees the building, he needs to bring him down before he can alert his chooms and so dives for his legs sending him heavily onto the gravel and drags him, thankfully dazed and quiet, back into the house. Meanwhile, V gingerly opens one eye staring into the painful void before him, his optics soon adjust and the bedroom floor slowly slides into focus.

A dull thud and a muffled groan later, Johnny reappears and offers his hand to help the fixer up, he grudgingly accepts and leans his weight onto the Rockerboy as they make their way gingerly down the stairs and over the battered body of the fallen goon to watch the outside activities through a grimy, cracked window.

“The way I see it,” offers V massaging life back into his left shoulder, “we can either wait here until they leave and check the place out properly, or forget about here and make our way to the warehouse while it’s still light and before it’s full of murderous Scavs.”

It’s a no-brainer, a couple of minutes later they are back in the truck putting together a route away from the roads leading from the farm and sharing a cigarette. The devil in Johnny has a question to ask, “How d’you think Kerry’s gonna feel when he finds out you’ve done all of this without asking him?”

“Well he’ll…” V realises that, in a certain light, his actions could be construed as selfish, controlling even. Although he meant well, he hadn’t really considered Kerry’s feelings in all of this, there might even be a reason he never told the whole story. “I just need to call someone…” he murmurs, leaving the truck and disappearing around the corner.

Some minutes later a red-cheeked ex-merc hops back into the truck and silently starts it up, knuckles white on the steering wheel, Johnny gives it a few minutes but has to ask,

“Kerry is pretty mad OK?”

Johnny nods, he knows how Kerry gets when he feels betrayed, he realises that, to his surprise, he feels bad for his friend.

“He said that I shouldn’t’ve gone without telling him where I was going and that I shouldn’t’ve put myself in danger for him and that we were gonna have to have a talk when I get back.”

“Aw V I’m sorry…”

“Nah, it’s fine. Think he just wants to vent at me. Had to promise to call him every couple of hours and to tell him everything we find out, he really can’t remember what happened and wants to know, even if it’s real bad.”

-

It’s a long and boring journey to their final destination, Johnny has been on a self-improvement kick lately and decides to look at the shard he found earlier. He was expecting a book, but opening the case he realises that The Benefits and Drawbacks of Adaptive Technology and its Impact on Society at Large is in fact a BD, possibly the dullest one ever but a BD just the same. Rummaging around in the glove compartment he finds a wreath and settles back in his seat ready to expand his mind. Twenty minutes later his mind is definitely blown, though not necessarily improved in any way.

“V, choom, you gotta see this,” he says groggily, clumsily pulling the BD wreath through his tangled hair.

“No thanks, m’driving. Not a good mix dipshit. Besides, sounds super-dull.”

“So pull over, I promise you, you REALLY need to see this.”

-

The scene opens with a stuffy lecturer in an office outlining how far cybernetics have come in the last hundred years, never one for schooling V can feel himself drifting off, but less than three minutes in the scene abruptly switches to a smoke-filled room, possibly a bar, with a dozen or more people sat at makeshift seats and tables. V recognises one, “That’s Selene!” he says out loud to Johnny. A commotion indicates another person entering the room, a slightly dishevelled Kerry comes stumbling in with hair flopping rakishly over one eye and his denim shirt open to expose his recently installed chrome. V adjusts himself in his seat, damn that man is hot.

“…and then later that night, “Kerry was clearly part way through a story when he had left the room, “he came over again. Can you believe it? But this time with a gun and a bag full of drugs. Security fucked him up and threw him out and the drugs made for a preem after-show party!”

The assembled ‘audience’ laugh and clap, an inhaler makes its way around the room as do various bottles, all of which Kerry happily partakes in. The next few minutes are mostly this, blurry partying and a babble of chatter, the room seems to be hanging on every word the Rockerboy says and Kerry is lapping it up. Suddenly, the atmosphere changes. The recording whips around to focus on the red-haired woman who seems to be receiving a call, biting her bottom lip and nodding slightly as her eyes glow green. The room quietens, even Kerry, though he seems to be in some kind of drug and alcohol induced stupor anyway. The camera follows Selene out of the room into a gravel patch covered with parked cars and overlooked by an old wind turbine,

“Jeez, are you sure?” she asks, “I mean, of course I believe you but he’s a rock star for fucks sake, there must be somebody who’ll pay. What about the ex-wife?” Selene nods again, “What a bitch, I thought they had kids? And they say we’re the bad guys. OK, fine, it’s a shame though, he seems like a nice guy.” Her eyes dull as the call ends, she checks her revolver and strides back into the bar.

A whispered conversation later the filming cuts off as Kerry is being man-handled off the tatty sofa.

-

V removes the wreath and sits stunned in the driver’s seat of his truck not quite sure what to do next, Johnny gently takes it from his hands throwing it onto the rear seats and looks at his friend with concern. “You good?”

“I guess.” V replies thoughtfully, “He can’t know.”

Johnny nods in agreement, “So where next?”

“We carry on,” decides V, “still don’t know what happened next. I mean, they didn’t flatline him, why not? Gonna talk to Selene.”

-

Dusk is approaching when they reach their final destination, as it draws near the familiar outline of the now even more dilapidated wind turbine hovers into view. “This is the place,” Johnny erroneously announces. “We just gonna walk in and start shooting?”

“Jeez Johnny of course not, we want information don’t we, not total carnage?”

Johnny shrugs in a non-committal way.

V had just come off a holo-call with Kerry, he had told him about the bar, about the scavs hanging on his every word and about how hot he looked. He felt bad not telling him the whole truth, but just couldn’t see what good it would do. “You can stay in the truck; I’m going in to talk to them.”

The old Rockerboy was about to argue, the look on V’s face was more than enough to stop him. “Just be careful, I don’t wanna have to explain to Kerry why you’re coming home in the trunk and not the passenger seat.”

Leaving the truck and passing his half-done smoke over to Johnny, V puts his hands deep into his pockets and begins to walk towards the warehouse building, well-aware that there would have been eyes on him from the get go. Johnny has his eyes on a sniper behind an upstairs window, but for now V appears safe from their target practice.

As he nears, V puts his hands in the air and turns around then, a couple of meters from the door he stands and waits.

Up until now, the goons have not shown themselves though it’s obvious they’re around, dozens of vehicles are strewn around the gravel and a deep-thumping beat can be heard coming from inside. A hum indicates the rising of the shutters, rust rains down as they rattle open and a man of indeterminate middle-age dressed in makeshift armour appears.

“Don’t move. Who are you and whaddya want?”

“Name’s V,“ he yells across the distance cocking his head to one side, “your goons can stand down. Just want to talk to Selene.”

The name obviously means something to the other man, he raises an eyebrow and comes a little closer to the ex-merc. “And what’s your biz with Selene?” he hisses.

“No biz, she was a friend of my mom, just wanna talk to her.”

“Vincent?”

The deep, southern tones of the woman he knew in his youth are unmistakable,

“Selene, yeah, erm, hi.”

The chrome is covered in a dark blue boiler-suit and her always striking green eyes are hidden behind shades, but the red hair, less vibrant but still luxurious would have given her away anyway.

“Vincent honey, it’s been twenty years. Why you out here looking for me in the ass-end of nowhere?”

“Twenty-two, just wanted your help with something.” V says cautiously lowering his arms.

“Course sugar, come inside. How’s Martha?” The woman asks, wrapping her arm around V’s waist in a way that seems oddly familiar and leads him inside.

Small-talk exhausted, V is led down a narrow, graffitied corridor and into what seems to be a common-room of sorts. Selene clearly has some power, the assembled goons are variously reverential, sycophantic or dangerously protective, V has rarely missed the comfort of a revolver in his pocket as much as he does right now.

-

Back at the truck, Johnny is making bad decisions, having thankfully dismissed the idea of going in after V with all guns blazing regardless, he has now decided that since he is out of the way for a little while it’s a good time to call Kerry.

No one answers the first time, it’s early evening so Kerry could be getting ready to go out, or maybe napping, there’s even a possibility he’s just ignoring the call. Johnny tries again, this time an annoyed face fills his optics almost straight away,

“What?”

“And a good evening to you too Kerry.” Kerry rolls his eyes and waits for Johnny to continue. “Just thought we could, you know, catch up.”

The white-haired Rockerboy stares back incredulously,

“I saw you a week ago when you came bothering Vince, more’s the pity, had nothing to say to you then, even less now.”

“Ker, we’re going through some stuff to help you out here, a little bit of….”

“Whaddya mean ‘we’? Shiiiiiiit, you’re there with him aren’t you? You’re both gonna fucking get killed. If he gets hurt cause you fucked up I’m gonna personally rip off that good arm at hit you with the wet end. Sheesh. What you bothering me for anyway...has something happened?” Kerry asks in sudden alarm.

Johnny shakes his head in what he hopes is a comforting manner, “Chill choom, he’s just talking to some chick,” Johnny notices Kerry bristle slightly, “we’re nearly done, should be back in a few hours. I was thinking…maybe we could…y’know, get together for a jam when we get back?”

The other man puts the drink he is holding carefully down on the coffee table and leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Say that again.”

“I just thought, we could maybe, recapture a bit of that old magic.” Johnny says awkwardly.

“You know I don’t need this right?” asks Kerry, “My last album went fucking platinum over night, I sell out stadiums choom. What’s in it for me?”

“V would like it if we got along.” Johnny wasn’t trying to score a point, merely musing, but it strikes a chord with Kerry nonetheless.

Kerry sighs, “Fine we’ll give it a try. If I hear the magic word.”

Johnny still can’t get used to Kerry having the upper hand, but he needs him on side, “OK fine, please.”

“Get that man back in one piece and we’ll talk.” The call cuts off abruptly and Johnny slumps back into his seat, that’s the scariest shit he’s done all day.

-

V is sat looking more confident than he feels opposite Selene at a rickety wooden table in a room reminiscent of the one on the BD. He’s hyper-aware of being watched by several pairs of distrustful eyes, even if he wanted to try something stupid, he’d never make it out alive.

“I doubt you really came all this way to talk over old times,” says the woman softly, “I’ve seen the scream sheets, the feeds, you’re seeing that Rockerboy feller, that Kerry Eurodyne. If you’re here for vengeance it’s not gonna end well for you Vincent my sweet boy.”

“No, not vengeance. We found this.” V hands the shard over to Selene who hisses through her teeth and whispers urgently to one of the assembled goons.

“Someone fucked up, that’s not for public consumption, but if not vengeance then why are you here?”

“Information. Kerry clearly didn’t get flatlined that night, made it home safe the next day, how? Why? What happened in between?”

Selene sits back in her chair staring V in the eye like she’s deciding which version of the story to tell, she decides on the truth…

-

The car is crowded, the two scavs are in the back with Kerry slumped between them and Selene with her bodyguard driving are in the front. “Where we taking him?” asks the burly hustle.

“Out to Biotechnica Flats, but near the highway so that he’ll be found quickly, can’t let the Corpo scum think they can take us for a joke, I think they’ll get the message when their poster boy is being brought home in a body bag.”

Around half an hour into the incredibly dull journey a deep voice pipes up from the rear seats, “Hey, erm, Selene, I don’t think he’s breathin’.”

“Shit, shit, shit. Stop the car!”

In some ways, this is ideal, saves them a messy and unpleasant job, but having him flatline from an overdose of partying rather than a gunshot isn’t exactly the message they’re trying to send. The car squeals to a halt on the deserted highway and the men in the back drag Kerry’s unresponsive body onto the scorching tarmac, where he sustains his only major injury of the night, a cracked elbow.

“Fucking Hell Clive, do something.” Selene screams at the bodyguard, but his specialty is bullets not heart attacks so he stands staring with the rest of them, until…

“Of course he’s got Trauma Team Platinum.” Sighs an exasperated Selene as the distinctive AV hovers into view. “Leave him, we need to delta. If they see us we’re fucked.”

The quartet hastily scramble back into the car and, with a screech of tyres, turn back towards the warehouse leaving the Rockerboy at the side of the road. Selene watches the action through the rear camera, as he gets lifted into the AV she reflects on how fucked they’re all going to be when the boss finds out.

-

“And we’re you? Fucked I mean.”

“Woo yeah, got my guys taken off of me, lost my position, my son, Charlie, got shipped to the other side of the country. It was rough. But you know what? I was glad he got away, he seemed like a good guy. Not his fault the corpos and his shitty ex fucked him over, yeah it was fine. I still smile whenever I see him on TV or hear him on the radio, and when I heard that my little Vinny was his mainline I knew it had happened for a reason.”

Selene takes V’s hand and leans forward to look into his eyes, “I’m pleased for you, of how things have turned out, but you know a lot about us now, where we live, what we do, and I can’t hold these guys back forever. You need to leave and don’t talk to anybody about what you’ve seen and heard here.”

V nods and Selene walks him to the shutters and out, “Be safe V,” she looks over to the truck, “and say Hi to Johnny, we had a lotta fun back in the day.” V hides his shock well and heads back to the truck to meet Johnny who is leaning fluidly against the passenger door.

“So, did ya find out what you wanted to know?”

V thinks for a moment lighting a cigarette and passing it to Johnny, “I can’t say that I wanted to know all that, I’ll tell you about it on the way home.”

-

The story does not surprise Johnny in the least, Kerry’s behaviour was pretty standard even back in the Samurai days, ‘cept back then it was a hopeful punch to the chest or a friendly ripperdoc that brought him back around. “How much you gonna tell him?”

V gives a deep sigh, “Just what he needs to know, tricked by scavs, rescued by Trauma Team, no need for the rest.”

Johnny nods, lying to save someone’s feelings doesn’t really sit well with him but it’s not his biz, and V’s right, Kerry doesn’t need to know the rest.

The ex-merc’s optics glow green as a call comes in, his favourite face fills the screen, “V, hey. I miss you, you heading back? Find anything out?”

“Not much, be home soon. I’ll tell you then…Ker?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

[the-archangel]

Reblog if you believe men’s mental health needs to be taken more seriously

[the-archangel]

It's My (Halloween) Party

Halloween fluff (mostly) with a NSFW middle bit!

“It’s fine V, honestly, it’s fine. I knew that in the end this is what would have to happen and so did you. I’m ready, it’s fine.”

V looks Johnny in the eye, the usual smug look had been replaced with one more sombre and thoughtful.

“Shit Johnny, I’m so sorry, but don’t you think you’re over-reacting the tiniest bit? I mean, I’m literally going to be gone for three days, I promise I’ll spend the day with you on Friday.”

“But it’s Hallowe’en tomorrow V, I wanted to take it all in, dress up and shit, y’know?”

“I know, I do, but you can always decorate the apartment. Hey, why not have a party? Get dressed up, invite your friends, it’ll be fun.”

Johnny huffs non-committally, he does love a party, he might struggle with the friends part though. “I got a costume, see what you think?”

V nods and settles back on the couch and a few minutes later a subtly changed Johnny re-enters the room. V looks at his friend’s black suit, shirt and tie combo quizzically, “Who’re you supposed to be?”

“I’m an old-school assassin, like in that movie we saw where he killed that dude with a library book.”

“Shit yeah! That’s pretty good. If you put away the shit-eating grin and worked on harassed and homicidal you’d look just like him.” V laughs.

“Thank you for your valuable feedback.” Johnny spits before stalking back to the wardrobe.

-

Kerry is also in a wardrobe, albeit a much larger, more glamourous one. This Hallowe’en is going to be epic and he and V need outfits to match. There is already a pretty impressive pile of discarded clothes and exotic costumes, but nothing seems quite right.

V had tried helping at first, unearthing pirate costumes and elegant military gear from long-forgotten videos and declaring it all perfect, but hot as V looked in the sexy highwayman outfit, none of it was vibing with Kerry so the outfit was abandoned with the rest – only a little torn by its somewhat hasty removal. So, V is returning home in good spirits, oblivious to the increasingly frustrated mood of his husband.

“Hey Ker, you still upstairs?” V shouts.

A muffled, “M,hm,” comes from somewhere above him. Taking the steps two at a time and entering the closet, V tries not to smirk at the picture before him: world-famous Rockerboy Kerry Eurodyne sat in his underpants and a black feather boa pouting in a maelstrom of abandoned ideas.

V carefully picks his way over to the comically dejected looking man and sits behind wrapping his arms around his shoulders and grimaces through the pain of the coat hanger currently digging into his upper thigh. “It’s OK Ker, I’ll drive us into the City Center, buy lunch, look for costumes…”

Kerry cuts him off, “No! There’s something here, I can feel it, I just can’t find it.”

V pulls him closer burying his face in the older man’s neck, mostly to hide the chuckle. “Ditch this for a couple of hours, we can come back to it later, we need to pack for tomorrow’s trip.”

The other man looks momentarily startled, he’d been trying to forget about the record company shindig in NY he’d agreed to host, only finally agreeing because there’d be chooms there he hadn’t seen in a few years – and because of the preem Hallowe-en party of course. “Sure, I suppose,” he says, reluctantly letting the boa fall to the floor and allowing V to help him up, not that he needed help of course.

-

V flicks a note to Johnny when they’re on the way to the airport, Kerry sighing and rolling his eyes as he does so. “I just don’t want him to worry.” Explains the ex-merc.

“You don’t want him bugging you all day asking if you’ve set off yet ya mean.” Mutters the Rockerboy.

Johnny reads the message sullenly, last Hallowe’en was a wash out what with hospital stays (him), hissy fits (Kerry) and psychological evaluations by the bucketful (him and V), he wanted this one to count. Asking around various bars had given him a few leads to some preem parties, but none of them were quite what he was looking for, too controlled, not enough mayhem, maybe he wouldn’t bother after all, just throw himself into some work and forget about the whole thing. Fucking Kerry spoiling his fun again.

The Afterlife is buzzing, especially for a Tuesday morning which is often the quietest part of the week, prolly everyone wanting to conclude business before the evening shenanigans begin Johnny thinks curling his lip. He heads towards a couple of chooms in a corner booth and begins to talk biz.

-

Dragging the cases to the cab whilst Kerry expansively describes the hotel they’ll be staying in, V quickly pings off another message to Johnny, ‘En route to hotel, any plans yet?’ but no reply is immediately forthcoming so he takes his seat and looks out at the crumbling skyscrapers of New York that remind him so much of home.

Kerry’s voice brings him back to the moment, “Do you think we made the right choice?”

Baffled, V looks for clues in his husband’s face, does he mean in coming to NY, or picking this hotel, or getting a cat, or, well the list is pretty long of things they may regret one day. “Nope, you’ve lost me.”

“Of costumes ya gonk, what else could I be talking about?”

V lets out a breath and grins, “Course, everyone’s gonna be blown away.”

“Ya think? It’s not going to come across as a little, I dunno, low effort?”

V grips Kerry’s hand even tighter than he already is, “Babe, no one is gonna care about anything other than how fucking awesome we look, it’s not even worth thinking about.”

Sinking into his husband’s arms, Kerry smiles and looks up into the ex-merc’s eyes, “You’re one choice I’m never gonna regret,” he whispers huskily before planting a kiss on V’s bearded chin and snoozing for the rest of the ride.

-

Back in NC, Johnny is in the shower after a seemingly straightforward gig that turned unexpectedly messy. Picking the bits of Scav bone out of his matted hair is taking longer than he anticipated, he grunts with satisfaction as each one hits the floor of the shower.

Finally feeling reasonably presentable he searches the apartment for his jacket, he’s finally found the perfect party, he’s ditched the costume, he very much wants to look recognisable as himself when he walks in. “Fucking thing, where’s it gone?” he mutters to himself as he turns the room upside-down. Sitting on the bed and scanning the room, he frowns as he notices V’s battered old ‘Second Conflict’, jacket on the back of the chair, the October air is too cool to go jacketless, so “Fuck,” he sighs as he shrugs on the offending item and leaves into the Hallowe’en afternoon smog.

-

For the more formal, earlier part of the evening, Kerry has chosen a powder blue shot-silk evening suit and for V a matching one in teal, V is leaning heavily on the dressing table clinging onto the edge with one hand and gently stroking Kerry’s hair with the other as the Rockerboy expertly and enthusiastically sucks on his cock. “You look so hot in that suit Ker,” V purrs between gasps, “hope I didn’t hurt your knees pushing you down on the floor like that.”

Kerry pulls away from the object of his obsession for a moment, a string of drool and precum connecting them still, “You know I’d crawl over broken glass to get to your dick,” he smirks running his tongue up the underside and grinning as V shivers, “but I will get my own back ‘bout the crack about my knees later.” V chuckles, then gasps as his length disappears into Kerry’s warm, willing mouth.

“Five-minute call Mr. Eurodyne,” a runner calls through the door just as V groans and Kerry swallows, he licks his lips and kisses his husband deeply.

-

Johnny is on the street looking over at the warehouse where the party is to be held in a few hours’ time. He’s rolled up pretty early since he’s unfamiliar with this part of Watson and wants to make sure he makes a big entrance dead on time later. Satisfied that he has identified the main entrance and any exits he may need for whatever reason he retires to a nearby bar, orders a tequila and checks his messages.

Despite still being pretty pissed at V for disappearing over the holidays, he grins when he sees his message, “Heck yeah!!” he replies and settles in for a couple of hours while he waits for the party to begin.

-

V basks in the reflected glow from his husband as Kerry charmingly ad-libs his way through introductions and conversations, finishing with him disappearing in a puff of smoke whilst a spooky instrumental version of Dark Matter is played allowing him to grab V and rush back to the dressing room to get changed for the party proper.

“Still not sure about this Vince,” says Kerry pulling on and adjusting the wig he spent many hours choosing and having styled just right, “but it is spooky how much you look like him, got his mannerisms down and everything. Gives me the creeps if I’m honest.”

Looking in the mirror, V has to agree that the make-up artist, who is now working on Kerry, has done a preem job, unsettlingly so in fact. “It’s supposed to give you the creeps, it’s Hallowe’eeeeeen,” he replies in his best spooky voice. After a last critical look in the mirror V grabs his jacket and leans on the doorframe having a smoke waiting for Kerry to be ready. The make up guy does a couple of last adjustments and stands back whilst Kerry plays with his Kiroshis to get just the right eye color and stands to look in the full-length mirror.

He's almost mesmerised by what he sees there, “You’re a fucking genius Terry,” he tells the make-up guy, eyes never leaving the mirror.

V comes up behind him and slips his arms around his waist, “I honestly don’t know if it’s wrong to feel like this, but you look so fucking hot right now.”

Kerry turns in his arms and looks for V’s eyes, but finds only his own reflection in the lenses of his glasses, “V honey, it’s never wrong to tell me I look hot.”

-

 People have started arriving to the party in Watson, Johnny nurses his drink and watches through the grimy window of the bar, waiting for the perfect time to make his entrance. He checks the pistol in his jacket, hefts his duffel bag onto his shoulder and makes his way over, avoiding being seen until he reaches the camera over the doorway to which he gives a one-fingered salute before heading inside.

It's maybe not what most people would call a party, mostly there are heavily chromed Maelstrommers hunched over laptops or having heavy conversations at tables, but as far as Johnny Silverhand is concerned anywhere where you can drink and have fun is a party, he’s already done the drinking part, now he’s ready for the fun.

He’d made it in and up the stairs without being spotted, clearly they’re all too busy to check the cameras, good. Standing just inside the doorway to the goon-filled open space beyond Johnny drops the bag pulling out V’s favourite SMG, Fenrir – perfect for these over-chromed gonks – and with something less flashy as a backup he kicks open the door, spraying bullets as he strides forwards.

Not being complete idiots, most of the gangers flee through the fire exit and disperse into the night, that’s fine, he’s not here to kill particularly, he’s here to collect. A couple of crumpled bodies impede his entrance slightly, but he grins as a metallic voice whines, “Shit, it’s Johnny Silverhand,” he makes his way towards the injured goon.

A couple of the guys don’t seem to have got the message, a well-placed bullet re-acquaints them with it, a couple more decide to try to be heroes, a casually hurled grenade finishes them off, finally it’s just Johnny and his quarry and a nervous woman who appears to be the girlfriend.

“You Taser?” the merc asks lighting a cigarette, well-aware of how this illuminates his scowling face.

“Leave him alone,” the woman shrieks coming at Johnny with impressively sharp steel nails unsheathed, “or I’ll fuck that pretty face right up.��

“Aw, she thinks I’m pretty,” Johnny says as he slows her down with a spray of bullets to the legs.

“Shit, dude!” screams Taser covering his head with his arms and smearing the blood dripping from his chest over his face.

Johnny looks into a face that is mostly polished chrome with two red pin-pricks that he guesses must be eyes. “Brick says you owe him, and you owe him big. He wants his Eddies.”

Taser gulps, “But…” Johnny’s pistol presses uncomfortably into his abdomen, “Shit, fine,” his eyes glow violet for a moment, “it’s done, tell him it’s fucking done.”

“We thank you for your co-operation,” Johnny offers as he leaves.

-

Over in New York, the party is also in full swing, the media swarm around the red-carpeted entrance to the ballroom cooing over the guest’s costumes and analysing their choices. The short journey from their room to the party is a tense one for Kerry, still unsure if anyone will even get their costumes, never mind dig them. Hand in hand, he and V leave the elevator and turn the corner onto the carpet, dozens of heads turn, they’d been waiting for his arrival, not only is he a huge star, but his costume never disappoints. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but the gasps, laughs and applause are not unwelcome.

For the occasion, V has replaced his synth-skin chrome arm for an older, silver model, red shades and a dark, shoulder-length wig add to the look, but it’s the ‘borrowed’ clothes – leather trousers, Samurai tank and the iconic jacket – and immaculate mannerisms that really make the resemblance extraordinary.

Kerry had spent ages getting the bandana just so around his thick, curly dark hair. Terry had done an amazing job with the facial hair and tattoos and somehow made him look thirty all over again. The moment of inspiration had come as he put the pile of clothes back into the closet the previous day, his old leather vest had slipped from its hanger as he shuffled past with his armful of rejected outfits and on picking it up something akin to a lighting bolt hit him, Kerry Eurodyne and Johnny Silverhand finally together again after fifty years.

The crowd lapped it up, especially when they stop for a very wet, passionate and long kiss, tomorrow’s screamsheet headlines are just writing themselves.

-

Having collected his payment for a job well done, Johnny makes his way through town, stopping briefly to change before making his way to the Afterlife and the private party he was about to crash. The feeds on the street caught his eye, he stands clenching has cigarette between thin lips as he watches the footage beamed from New York, he was definitely going to have to have a very serious word with V later.

-

The party was awesome, Kerry had kept his crown as the King of Hallowe’en and V was having a lot of fun channelling Johnny again for one night. Back in their room, the Rockerboy throws himself onto the bed chatting animatedly about how awesome the evening was while V sits beside him, smiling at how happy they both are and remembering how lucky he is.

“Y’know,” says V resting his hand on his husband’s chest, “Rock God Kerry is my guy, but this version is still doing it for me.” Kerry scowls at first, but is soon smiling again as V’s hand slides down his torso and into his jeans, “Keep the costume on for a while huh?” he asks, running his tongue around a pert nipple.

Kerry closes his eyes and moans softly, but then opens them and pulls himself up into a seated position, evicting a confused V from his chest, “You’re gonna have to get changed, the thought of Johnny anywhere near my cock is putting me off,” he growls.

V snickers, Johnny would love to know he was cock-blocking him from the other side of the country, “Course Ker, gimme a minute.” The ‘borrowed’ clothes drop to the floor, the shades and wig come off and the make-up is wiped away, a few minutes later a fresh-faced V comes back to four angry messages from Johnny and a gently snoring husband, it’s OK he decides curling up next to his man, it can all wait til morning.

[the-archangel]

I haven't posted for a while, or even written very much, as I wanted to get through PL and see in which direction it dragged me. I'm still not sure how I feel about THAT call in THAT ending, but I'll try and write my way out of it, or into it, not sure yet!

Anyway, I wrote this BEFORE, but it hints at V's devastation in the new ending. I've decided it's called:

NEW NOISE

V sits on the steps leading to the balcony of his penthouse letting the warm rain wash over him. Usually, he would have taken an AV at this time of night to get home from work, but tonight, for Christ only knows what reason, he’d decided to walk the relatively short distance. That was his first mistake.

His second was staying out here long enough for Kerry to realise he was missing. The Rockerboy had clearly been sleeping and grabbed the nearest clothes he could find, combat shorts and V’s old sparring hoodie, to come out to find his mainline, it’s not usual for V to be sat out here alone at any time, but certainly not in the middle of the night so he approaches him quietly – but not so silently as to startle, gently placing a hand on his shoulder and crouching beside him.

As he looks into V’s face, Kerry does his best to suppress the hiss trying to escape from between his teeth, but V knows he looks like shit with his messed-up face and torn clothes and meets his husband’s gaze with clouded eyes. “Hey Ker,” he says in a tired voice, “what’re you doin up this late?”

“Waiting for you ya gonk,” he replies softly, “come inside, you’re getting soaked.”

“In a minute maybe, just need…” the sentence is left unfinished as tears mingle with the rain on his cheeks. He turns away trying to hide this rare show of weakness, but Kerry is having none of it, holding his chin to turn his face back to look into his downcast eyes.

“Talk to me Vince, what happened?” he asks sitting himself down on the step and running his thumb over one of the many bruises blooming on the other man’s cheek.

Lifting his eyes V takes a deep breath and begins the tale.

-

The Afterlife was quiet, even for a Tuesday, so finishing up his paperwork V puts his laptop in the office, locks the door and makes for home. The moon is bright and a light mist of rain is cooling the city after a scorching hot day, it’s a pleasant enough night for a walk so V sets off down the street, it’s maybe a half-hour walk, he’ll be there in no time. He smiles when he thinks about how happy he’d been this morning, Kerry had made brunch and surprised him with VIP tickets to the Night City festival in a couple of weeks, they’d wanted to go for years but it just never happened for one reason or another, V was just thinking about what he had to look forward to and how much he loved that man of his when a noise from the doorway to his left caught his attention.

“Well looky what we’ve got here, Mr la-di-da Eurodyne ‘King of the Afterlife’. What you doin out on the streets with the dregs?”

V curses inwardly, having been out of the merc life for the last four years his instinct for spotting danger clearly wasn’t what it once was, though he’s pretty sure he still has a few tricks up his sleeves. “Just making my way home chooms, not lookin for trouble.”

“You hear that?” the goon calls to his friends, “he’s not looking for trouble. Well that’s a shame cuz trouble looks like it’s found you.”

There were about six of them, though in the dark and shadow it was hard to tell for sure, it didn’t look to V like they were with any gang particularly, just chancers out to make some trouble and besides, the gangs knew the level of pain they’d be causing themselves if they so much as looked at him the wrong way. These guys though, they’re just thinking they’ve found an easy target with a fat wallet.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” a harsh but feminine voice tells him as a second goon emerges from the shadows, “You’re gonna transfer us a shit-tonne of eddies and in return we might not kill you completely dead.”

“Hmm, not sure I like that deal, what if I say no?”

The first male answers, “Then we’ll beat you till your insides are outside and then go after your faggy slut of an output.”

Up until this point, V could have walked away – well jumped out of harm’s way onto the nearby rooftop he’d scanned and ran away – but that was no longer an option.

For the past couple of years V had considered on and off having his Mantis Blades removed, he didn’t use them anymore and the weight of them made his nearly middle-aged shoulders ache. He’d even made the appointment a couple of times and cancelled at the last minute, now he was pleased he had. Despite years of disuse they slip out cleanly, shredding his shirt and jacket and causing the surrounding goons to take a step back, but not to flee which V is pleased about, they’re going down for what they’ve said.

A glinting knife gets cut away along with the arm holding it, legs are hewn from bodies, one sweep sends two heads into the gutter and a final lurch and thrust hooks under the chin of the first goon and pins him to the wall, “The streets are dangerous enough without dicks like you, and now you’re just gonna make the place look untidy with your ugly fucking corpses.” V watches as the tip of his blade makes its way into the other man’s brain, then shakes him off into the gutter along with the rest of his ill-advised chooms and sheaths his weapons.

V is no longer the youthful, healthy man he once was, the rush from the fight leaves him drained and unsteady and after a couple of lurching steps the hard pavement of Night City rushes up to meet his face providing the bruises that Kerry is now so lovingly tending to.

“I don’t know what happened Ker, the blood, the shouting, it was all too much, everything started swimming and I just checked out for a few minutes.”

“Vince, baby, Vik said that overexertion could lay you out, something about missing receptors or some shit, I dunno, but you need to try to walk away from things that get you over-excited.

Sullenly, V nods in agreement. He’s not sure he gets along with this new normal.

[the-archangel]

Johnny just won’t let him cope with the break up

[the-archangel]

rb if mutuals are allowed to send you posts through dms :(