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sailorskunk · 3 months ago

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001. HEROES.

Silverv, canon divergent, fix it fic.

☔️ about.

☔️ word count: 4.7k.

☔️ tags/warnings: scenes of medical operation, gun violence, unskippable cutscene sex (just kidding, could you imagine?), graphic depictions of other character death, including decapitation, major character resurrection.

☔️ playlist: hskt - sylvan esso, GR4VES - konrad oldmoney, blackout days - phantogram

Delamain’s prerogative was to drop you off at the no tell motel that night. Through cloudy panic, you had taken a moment to survey the situation. The heist had gone awry, and there was no doubt that Arasaka would come down on you both – that is, if Jackie made it. There he was, breathing hard, sounds grinding out of his throat.

Your hands shook with each new breath you forced yourself to take. You recalled how easy it would’ve been to deal with this situation. Pain editors, internal mood stabilizers. You didn’t have any of that now, not that you’d been dropped from counterintelligence for following Jenkins’s stupidity.

“This is fucking stupid,” you whispered, hands tight against Jackie’s shoulders.

“Eh, chica, had it comin’,” Jackie grunted, coughing.

“Shh,” you answered, thoughts jittery and hard to follow. “Airhypo,” you chirped. “Jack, you need an airhypo.” You weren't sure why you hadn’t thought of it before, between opening his shirt and trying your best to cover all the holes. You’d shredded your shitty Militech jacket to make a makeshift wrap. Del had said something about an aortic burst, but you couldn’t be fussed with that at the moment.

It looked like the blood was coming from his lower abdomen. While surveying the wound, it was an exit, not an entry. The skin settled differently, the muscle exposed differently between the two. You were sure. You were so sure.

Wasting no time at all, using your suit jacket to dampen the blood loss, you dosed him in the chest with the two hypos you had.

Del slowed, coming to a stop in the back lot of the motel. The world outside glowed pink through the rain.

“God, Jack, I’d switch our places in a second,” you grunted, the sound coming out more than a little uncertain.

Jackie breathed hard against the pain, blinking heavily. His grasp on your hand was tighter than it had been just a moment before. You could see his lip stiffening. “I wouldn’t,” he whispered, using a bloodied knuckle to wipe at the film of sweat collecting at his brow.

“Ms. V, where would you like Mr. Welles’s remains taken in the event of his expiration?”

You hissed. “You fuckin’ take him to Vik's, now.”

“Ms. V,” Del began, the inflection high in the AI’s voice.

“I’ll pay. I’ll come back out and I’ll pay, Del. Please, just get him to Misty’s Esoterica.”

The AI in the screen appeared to think briefly. “Client request noted.”

“Del,” you started to say, but out of the corner of your eye, watched as Jackie began moving.

“You’ll need this, Chica,” he murmured.

The relic, glowing purple-red, the reason for all this. You let him slot it, pleased at the warmth returning to his fingers. “You just stay awake,” you told him.

Getting out of the car, well aware that Del wasn’t going to move an inch until you were inside, you landed in the first floor lobby and hesitated underneath the glow of the lights. There was a realization tickling the edge of your brain, some knowledge from your former life coming back to the forefront.

Dexter DeShawn didn’t want you there to help you. Or Jack. The heist had failed miserably, news all over the feeds, if Evelyn was telling the truth on the holo.

Would Arthur Jenkins have wanted just a word if you’d failed in persuading Abernathy off the path of gunning for him?

No. The realization hit like a sack of rocks against your chest.

You started up the stairs anyway, catching Vik on the holo.

“H-hey, V,” the old ripper chuckled as he answered.

“Vik,” You bleated. “We fucked up. Jackie should be headed your way now. He’s… You’ve gotta do something. He’s been boosted twice and his abdomen is wrapped.”

“Christ, V,” Vik grunted, before sighing. “Thanks for the head’s up. That it?”

You sniffed, rolling your eyes as you closed them. You leaned against the stair’s railing. “Yeah, for right now. I’d be with him right now if there wasn’t something else goin’ on.”

Vik was silent, just for a moment. After a few beats of awkward gasping, he said, “What else is there? You think you’re gonna make it out?”

“Gotta meet the fixer,” you answered. “I don’t think it’s gonna go well. But I’ll make it. I’ll be alright. I need to be there when you fix Jack up, however you can. If you can. That’s my intention. That’s the plan.”

“Alright… Bye, V.”

“See you, Vik.”

“Better.”

The holo cut, and you realized your fingers had gone numb with anxiety, the dull hum of the motel’s aircon units buzzing in time with the buzz underneath your skin.

You went back down to the lobby, just to check if Del had done what you’d asked. The black car was gone, and relief flooded in.

That was, until you turned back to the stairs, and tried to calm down enough to figure out the play.

Dex and his huscle weren’t going to let you leave that room if you didn’t drop them first. You’d managed to pick up your piece, had your basic mantis arms. Knew though that if you were anticipating them dropping you, then they were prepared to answer any call of a fight you gave them.

You didn’t know if Arasaka’s ops were on the tail yet, but there was absolutely no doubt they would come calling.

You pulled up your contacts and chose Evelyn Parker.

“V,” the woman said. “You make it out?”

“Yes,” you answered. “I’m supposed to meet Dex, but I know I shouldn’t. We should drop him.”

“You have the relic?” Her brows lifted.

“I do.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

“Go to Misty’s Esoterica,” you whispered. “I’ll be there soon. I’m not far away.”

“I’ll be a minute,” she sighed. “I’m… tied up with something. Can we meet at your place?”

“Sure, sure,” you continued, your legs moving to leave the No Tell Motel. There was a man standing near the doorway, just off in the near darkness still in the rain. His eyes ringed in light, scanning the area.

You scrutinized him deeper, and he even gave you a glance.

Heart rate peaked, realizing that he was looking for you, even if he didn’t know it yet. You nixed the holo without even a goodbye, and headed back toward the exit with as much quickness as you could handle.

You made it to the street, up a high hill, glancing backward just long enough to guess that he hadn’t realized who you were. How he missed the signature of the relic, you didn’t know, but you kept going, dashing as much as you could to make it to Misty’s, then Vik's.

You told yourself that if you could just make it to Jackie’s side, everything else would fall into place. Jackie, the relic, Dex, the man surveying the motel. Del. And fucking Del, ignoring your initial request. Fuck.

Instinctively, you kept running, Dying Night in hand, silenced and scoped. You’d grab Ev on the holo later. Everything else could wait.

When you finally made it, Del was already gone, and Misty was ragging up the blood that trailed into the front door of her shop. From afar, she looked afraid, brows knitted as she scrubbed. Someone’s radio in the alleyway was playing GR4VES.

Misty rolled her shoulders, her eyes rising as your boots hit the pavement. “Hey, V,” she said, like it was any other day.

“Misty,” You barked. “Vik got ‘im?”

Misty just nodded, letting her hair bob. She blinked tight, the worry lines on her face rising. “Yeah, he does. He’s got him stabilized. We’re cleaning up and then… I guess Vik’ll operate.”

“What’s his condition?” you crossed your arms, kneeling beside her. You felt the fabric of your suit pants go taut against your joints and hips.

“He’s… He’s just shot up, real bad. Vik's got some options for him. Synth organs and all that. I don’t know exactly. You’ll have to ask,” Misty said, her shoulders softening as she went back to scrubbing the blood off the ground.

You cleared your throat. “Lemme help. Where’s another rag? We’ll do it together.”

After an hour, having helped Misty clean up the trail, you were in Vik's clinic as the ripper washed and suited for a long ride. Jackie was subdued, laid flat on an actual table instead of the chair this time. Instead, you sat in the chair beside Jackie. Vik allowed this if you didn’t “fuck around.”

Jackie’s heartbeat was on the lower end, but one could hear it on one of the many machines he was connected to.

Vik was at his side, hands mostly washed, breathing long, deep breaths. Jackie was open from the armpit to the hip so Vik could survey the overall damage. Vik swallowed every few minutes, his lips parting as his gloved hands worked in the shredded meat of Jack’s muscles and guts. “It’s more than a little lucky you got Delamain to agree to bring him here. That you had hypos on reserve. And… That it looks like no one followed you.” His brows were knitted with concentration, and you could see his optics working under his glasses, seeing all the little things that marked Jackie’s new version of life.

“They did follow me, Vik,” you answered. “They’ll come callin’. I just hope they fuck off for a little bit, catch me tomorrow. Motherfuckers.” You shivered at the thought of the man at the No Tell, the graying edges of his hair and some hefty ‘ware at his throat. You lifted Dying Night out of your waistband and put it on the empty metal table between you and Jackie. “If they don’t… Well. I’m sorry.”

Jackie, with his face enclosed in a mask giving him oxygen and medication to keep him subdued, took a hearty breath. The strongest you had heard in a while. The sound of it, as ragged as it was, calmed your nerves.

“If there’s anything I’m really worried about, it’s how it’s all gonna come together. ‘Saka, Dex, Evelyn, this fuckin’ chip I’m keeping warm in my head.” You weren't a smoker, but you could’ve stood a smoke just then, even if Vik would’ve tossed you outside.

Heart was still pounding, but for the time being, the clouded panic and the numbness had subsided. There were only a couple ways people know how to get into Vik's clinic. There were definitely only a couple ways this could play out if they did come. Now it was just the rhythmic beat in your bones, something innate and ethereal at the same time. You were alive. Jackie was alive.

“You should call Mama Welles, y’know,” Vik said, plinking bullets into a clear bowl. “She needs to know.”

Your brows rose, a hand curling at your chin. “How pissed off do you think she’s gonna be that I didn’t stop him? Us? I used to work for Arasaka for Christ’s sake.” Though Vik was there, though Jackie was asleep beside you, though you heard Misty’s boots coming down the stairwell, you could feel… It was a spotlight held by the universe, whatever forces were at play. Whatever was coming next was coming soon, and the spotlight both stripped the rest of the room from color and tangibility.

When the door opened, you froze at the revelation that it was not Misty. It, inevitably, were two Arasaka goons. One had a ligament system that muffled their steps, and the other was too large to have hidden.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” His accent was light, but there. His eyes were completely black, with red Arasaka irises. “Two scumbags suffering a crushing, but completely expected defeat.” He took something from his pocket, and your mantis blades popped on principle.

“We’re at a ripper, man,” You urged, your voice low. “Whatever the fuck it is you want, it can wait.”

“So you can be defeated again?” The goon lowered his eyes from the light over Jackie’s body to the floor, then back to you. “What is it like to have that kind of hope in spite of the chances being so miserably stacked against you?”

You snorted, letting your mouth pull into a smirk. “Night City gives and takes, that’s true. Love and hate might be the same to her. But when she loves me, she really loves me.” You shot up, winced from the pain in your ‘ganic knees, cutting the distance between the chair and the man with the irises.

You pinned him to the wall by your blade, the edge just against the soft synth-flesh of his throat. His pal finally seemed to be relevant, his muzzle brake against the aching shell of your skull. “Night City loves a legend. Night City lets the bleak ones rise to the top. You fuck with me now, you fuck with my compadre now, you won’t even be a footnote. You’ll be in chapter one and the readers won’t remember you at all. How does that sound?”

The goon just glanced at his partner and nodded. You slammed your blade to the wall and felt the bullet’s heat graze the base of your neck.

Shots rang out from deeper in the room, and when you turned, holding the new wound with a hand, Jackie was awake on the table, Dying Night in hand. “Chingada madre,” he said, half a dry whisper, half an exasperated shout. Vik was holding him down.

You stepped back from the wall, between the two falling bodies, the first man’s head rolling across Vik's floor. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ,” Vik growled, forcing Jackie back onto his back. “Sit the fuck back and let me work.”

There were something like ten bullets in the bowl. They ranged in caliber, and he was sewing as he went, keeping what he could. There were some other bits that couldn’t be salvaged in a trash can next to the operating table.

“He supposed to be awake?”

“No,” Vik answered. “Which tells me I definitely misjudged his capacity for pain and anesthesia.”

“Centzon,” Jackie said from the table, as if Vik wasn’t actively dialing up his anesthetic.

“Gotcha,” you murmured, picking up some plastic from a roll in the corner of the room to cover the bodies until they could figure out what to do with them. Vik was older, had seen his share of Night City’s capability of blood letting, but there was something dysphoric about being in the same room with two dead bodies and him.

You went up the stairs to find Misty. Instead of meeting Misty as intended, she received a message from an unknown sender.

I have been in contact with your shady fixer. If you want to live to see tomorrow, it would be best if we met. Tom’s Diner. Two hours.

You grimaced. Fuck. You didn’t know who it was – the contact was left intentionally unknown.

A second message came through the feed.

V? Have you heard from Jackie?

Guadalupe Welles rarely missed a beat, huh?

You called her first. You weren’t going to worry about meeting some asshole at Tom’s Diner, whoever they were.

“V?” Mama Welles said. She looked bewildered to get a call.

“Listen,” You bleated. “Jack’s at Vik's. He’s… doing fine enough. Given the circumstances.”

Mama Welles shut her eyes. You couldn’t decide what she was trying to hide. Sorrow? Fear? Disappointment? “W-what happened?”

There were few times in the half year that you had known Mama Welles that you got the notion that what you said next wasn’t important, that it wouldn’t affect what would come next. She knew her sons. All of her sons. Even Jack’s sister, Melissa, was in the life. But it didn’t get easier, testing the waters, and you could feel it.

“We… Jack and me, we –” You took a deep, heavy breath. It didn’t make you feel any better. “We stole something from Arasaka, the situation went south. Jack… Almost didn’t make it. He’s – He’s doing well.” It never got easier telling her what it was. You and Jack had screwed up before during a gig, sure. But nothing like this. Nothing that looked like one or both might not recover.

In the middle of the silence, you went inside Misty’s. She was on her computer, and glanced back to meet your eyes, instantly noting you were on holo.

“Should I come?” Mama Welles asked.

“I.. I don’t know if Jack would want you to see him like that. But… I think in a normal situation, like if he was sick, he’d want you there. You know that, ma.”

“A normal situation? What’s a more normal situation than this?” Mama Welles’s laugh caught you off guard, and you chuffed, not sure if you should laugh, too.

She was right. Had there ever been a time in Night City, in your life in Charter Hill, in the one you are living now, where something like this wasn’t completely average? You weren’t going to mention the ‘Saka fucks. You weren't going to mention that Jack was comparatively wide awake through an active slice and dice. God, there were just some things mothers shouldn’t know.

“Don’t come,” you whispered. “I’ll bring him by once Vik's got him finished up. Could be a couple hours, but we’ll crack a couple cervezas and laugh about it, right?”

Mama Welles sniffed, giving you a kind of… Mischievous look, the corners of her lips rising. “If you think we must.”

“We should, ma. We should.”

Off the holo, you smiled at Misty. “You’ll never believe what your husband asked for.”

“Husband?” Misty snorted.

“Centzon,” you continued, glowing warm at the sight of Misty’s eyes softening. They stood together like that, softening as the minutes passed. “You should ask him to marry you after this. You should keep him on the straight and narrow.”

“As if you both won’t be doing more gigs within the month, if not the week,” Misty grinned, a sleeved hand at the back of her neck as she rested her elbows at her desk.

You paused, letting her shoulders fall slightly. “I don’t think I want this anymore,” you said. “Major leagues? Who gives a fuck if…” You lifted a hand to yourself. Covered in blood, some dry, some not. Life was like some never ending downward spiral, even when the city loved you. It never got any better and there was no winning, only adjusting one’s expectations. Again, again, and again. Then there was the waking up in the middle of the befores and afters. Before the job. After the job. Onto the next thing, as if the first thing didn’t matter.

Misty shook her head. “Jack wasn’t good at admitting it either, not at first.”

“What?” you snickered. “What am I not admitting?” You came closer to the desk, parking yourself beside Misty.

“You like it,” she murmured, smiling something soft. “You like the danger, you like the abuse. You like the power. You and Jack both.”

You let out a cheap, defensive laugh. Just one, the edge sharp. “I don’t know if it’s that, Mist. I just wanted some Centzon, not a reading.”

Misty nodded, shrugging some. “In the cabinet back there, there’s a bottle for special occasions. Guess this is as special a time as any.” She clicked around on her computer, looking at natural mineral wholesalers.

“I’m sorry there haven’t been more special occasions,” you said, snatching the bottle and heading back down to Vik’s. The interaction had left a bad taste in your mouth – you wished there was some way to make it all up. Start all over. Choose differently. As often as the city overlooked big things, little things, she could do this for you and Jackie, right? Just this once?

Back inside Vik’s, Jackie was getting sewn up, Vik joined by a secondary arm connected to an operative AI. It appeared to be cutting time in half, maybe even a quarter, even if Vik was pointing every once in a while to where the next stitches had to go.

Jack seemed more awake than ever, seemingly having simply chosen to remain awake. He said nothing as you moved to sit beside him, putting plastic cups from a stack on Vik’s desk on the metal table between you both.

“You should go home… Get some rest,” Jack drawled, lifting the face mask as you poured him some tequila.

“Aren’t you in pain?” you asked. You poured your own cup, getting warmer in the chest in spite of the cold air funneling down through the vents. Vik said it helped with sterilization, but all it was doing was making the goosebumps on your skin rise.

“What’re we at, Viky? Fifteen?”

“Seventeen, two in a major artery,” Vik replied without missing a beat.

“I think that’s more painful than a half anesthetized op, chica,” Jackie replied. “‘Sides. Tequila makes it aaaall go away anyhow.”

You both touched glasses, a squeaky sort of clink hitting the air. “Then… I guess I will go home.”

Jackie suddenly looked severe. “My mama called mid op, said she’ll come get me when it’s all over. Dunno how that’s supposed to happen, what with Watson being shut down and all. But… I think it’ll be alright tomorrow. Just you wait.” His features smoothed and softened. He downed his tequila, and you fought the urge to tell him more about what you were dealing with.

You were sure he could guess between the bodies on the floor, the call from his mother. But you hadn’t said anything about the mysterious invitation for a scop burger from Tom’s. Instead of telling him anything about it, you opted to just point at Dying Night. “You keep this for tonight,” you told him, making his eyes go all dark. “Just until your ma picks you up. I won’t need it.” You nodded to the fucks still on the floor, covered up in plastic. “Dunno where your pieces went in the shitstrom, but… Yeah. Anyway.”

You never really were good at being sappy, huh?

After helping Vik dump the bodies, knowing the NCPD would be more worried about two dead corpos than who they attacked, you eventually did make your way home. You eventually got the notification that Jackie and Misty were both together, at Mama Welles’s, somewhat to Mama Welles’s chagrin. She didn’t like Misty, thought she was weird. Plus, though she never said it, Misty wasn’t like Jackie’s exes. Like Monica or Jazelle, whoever the fuck.

You took the stairs today, which was absolutely no joke in a megabuilding. But you didn’t mind climbing up the circling cascade of stairs, peeping the small square of sky in the uppermost roof of the building every once in a while. It was just peeps fooling around, eating their food, talking their shit. Multiple radio stations going, Max Mike cutting inbetween like a ghost spouting his schizo rants like Gary the Prophet outside Misty’s. After a few floors, you did end up on the elevator. A slow, gentle ride, to what looked like the continuation of your life as it was.

Until you got to the floor beneath yours, and you saw him. The man from Konpeki, the man from No Tell. And worse, Dex was with him, looking absolutely fussed. Even under the reflection of his glasses, you could see the tremble in his lips, the raised bar of his brows at every quiet word this man shared with him.

They were passing food stalls, couples and throuples leaned back on the edges of the floor railings.

You let out a breath from flared nostrils. Night City didn’t let everyone win all the time, right? That was the fun, wasn’t it?

Swallowing back your pride, you realized Misty was right. You did like this. Knowing they hadn’t seen you yet, and you still had time to turn back, to go somewhere else, or even to get a drop on them. If it wasn’t for the fact you didn’t like shitting where you ate, you might’ve even have just ended the whole shit story right here and gone home like it wasn’t anything.

But if that man couldn’t bring you in, who would? Smasher? Somebody else? Another gaggle of gangoons? The fuckin’ Steel Dragons?

Fuuuuck.

That was it, then. It was now or never. So… You just walked over to them, dancing between the small crowd of people lined up at a food stall. “What a surprise,” you said, giving Dex the ol’ up and down. “The fuck are you doing here? At my fuckin’ building?”

Dex let out an awkward laugh. “As if y’weren’t supposed to show the fuck up at the motel.” He rolled his shoulders, craning his neck to look down at you. “We got some things to go over.” He nodded toward the man, whose eyes were scanning you.

“Who are you?”

“Takemura Goro,” he answered, with little to no emotion in his voice. “You were someplace you shouldn’t have been just earlier. I’m not here to punish you for it. I need your help.”

You blinked. “And you expect me to just, what? Take you up to my place?”

“Uh, yeah, we fuckin’ do,” Dex said, smiling sardonically, tossing his head back. He lifted his vest to show off his piece hanging from a holster against his chest.

“Fuckin’ try me,” you growled, only to feel Takemura’s hand on your shoulder, the other flying to Dex’s.

“Shut the fuck up, both of you. Take us upstairs, thief.”

You barked a laugh pretending to be a cough. “Sure,” you said, scowling at Dex, hardly offering a glance to Takemura.

Inside your h10 apartment, you sat on the edge of the bed, Dex sat on the couch, and Takemura seemed to see it best to stand between the both of you.

“See your tail’s faithfully tucked between your legs, Dex,” you said casually, as if that was just the conversation you wanted to have. “As if you hadn’t planned to off my ass at the motel. Real choom behavior.”

Dex just snorted a dark laugh. “I won’t lie. That was the plan, for sure. I thought you’d just killed the fuckin’ emperor. And now here we are, Saburo’s bodyguard between us. Lucky for you, though. He’s the one who decides what happens now.”

“He says the theft was planned on the request of a woman named Evelyn Parker,” Takemura said, his hands clasped in front of him. “You know how to reach her?”

You pursed your lips. “Dunno. She’s probably long gone by now. Her whole heist went to shit. Lost Bug, almost lost Jack.” You didn’t want Takemura finding her. You didn’t want Dex to know you had the chip, as if it would’ve mattered anyway.

“Your holo records indicated that you had been in touch with her as early as a few hours ago,” Takemura said, making you go red in the face.

“She didn’t agree to meet me. Said she was tied up, and hasn’t contacted me since,” you answered. “What’s she got to do with anything anyway?”

“Collecting evidence,” Takemura replied. “So that when I can stand before the board at Arasaka Tower, I can explicitly show that this was the doing of his last surviving son. How reckless he was, allowing anything to happen beneath the strength of the Arasaka name.” His own lips seemed to tighten, face blue lit by the holo ads rotating from the ceiling beside him.

“Hmm,” you said. “Guess you want the whole crew back together. The ones that survived, anyway.”

“In a manner of speaking,” Takemura said, taking some steps backward, seemingly interested in the items you kept around your house.

Dex watched with hollowed, tense eyes as Takemura slowly crept away, even poking at items in your wardrobe. After what seemed like a silent eternity, Dex said, “Well, in a manner of speaking, I don’t. This was supposed to be my comeback.” He reached under his vest and you reached into the shelves in the wall of your bed cubby.

Dex shot a round, and you threw your knife.

The city, she gives and takes in the same breath, doesn’t she?

#cyberpunk 2077 #femv #johnny silverhand #jackie welles #vik vektor #misty olszewski #liar.exe #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand x v #silverv

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sailorskunk · 3 months ago

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002. LOVE LIKE FIRE.

Silverv, canon divergent, fix it fic.

☔️ about.

☔️ word count: 3.9k.

☔️ tags/warnings: johnny being an idiot, sad convos, verbal abuse toward a secondary character.

☔️ playlist: chippin' in - samurai, it's called freefall - rainbow kitten surprise, major crimes - health

It had been an entirely different life playing out in front of you. Another world, practically the stone age compared to what you were used to. Apart from a cybernetic arm, there was hardly any chrome to be seen. Except for Shaitan. Except for the most miniscule amounts, it looked almost entirely ‘ganic.

The weapons were practically automatic, even the revolver, but that was on the part of the user. You felt like you were more involved than you were – as if all these choices being made were some kind of partial extension. Were these things you had really said and done?

Who was Morgan Blackhand?

You were somewhat familiar with both Kerry Eurodyne and Rogue Amendiares. The washed up, suicidal corpo rocker and the fixer Jackie had thought so highly of.

But this was an attack on Arasaka? How… How was she supposed to be alive, if she’d knocked hard on Arasaka’s door?

It became clearer as the memories resurfaced. You, an unwilling viewer, locked inside a darkened theater, the images flickering back and forth. You could practically feel your body, coiled into a sitting position, though the boundaries between you and the experiencer were thinning.

And when it was all over, after Smasher had done his hard work, when a younger Saburo had killed you – no, him, – all that was left was the running binaries of a program. You could move, even, through the binaries, as if they were ghosts of something that had once been real.

It was him. He was in the code. Red, while the rest was blue, a beating heart locked in the deepest part of an uncharted ocean. You attempted to speak, but all there was an echoing, ethereal sound you couldn’t place as your own. You tried to get closer, but the man in the code would just turn away, fragment, and move.

Eventually, sound started making sense again, and you could hear the pathetic, unrivaled terror with each jagged breath you took. And at some point, you realized there was absolutely no reason to be breathing at all – this was something other than life, a posthuman exploit unraveling your psyche as your whimpering ceased all together.

“Ahh, thank fuck. Thought you were never gonna stop.”

Your vision shifted to the sound. The man in red was standing in the distance between two ghostly, binary pillars. The darkness between you both appeared to be a hall. “Who the fuck are you?”

The man lit a cigarette. Even the smoke had a stack of code, and it twirled upward in spite of no possibility for air at all. You considered moving closer, but something inside you wouldn’t let you move. The last thing you remember….

Oh. You hadn’t just been playing a concert, or blowing up Arasaka Tower with Rogue, Thompson, Spider, and Shaitan, had you? Why… Why did you think you had?

You’ve just been shot by Dexter DeShawn after being ambushed at your megabuilding by him and Takemura. There was no telling whether or not your knife had landed, no clue as to what Takemura was going to do with your body, or even Dex’s. If Takemura was wise… Which, in retrospect, wasn’t a thought process you could follow, because everything Takemura might be wise to do in order to meet an end to his goals was not something you were interested in.

You could lie, sure. You could call the cops, and they probably wouldn’t give a shift. People die and decay in the time it can take an officer to get around to calling for legal clean up.

No, if Takemura was wise, Dex would be in a landfill, and you would be…?

You wrung your hands together, momentarily forgetting the secondary character in your current perception. You were going to be in a ripper soon, you were sure of it. Whatever was happening now had to be some kind of… This was a side effect of having a co-processor, right? There had to be somewhere for the code created by its existence in your brain to go after everything, right?

Right, right. Just some kind of digital afterlife. But who was the fuckin’ guy?

“Fuck kinda joytoy are you supposed to be?”

At that, he seemed to come closer.

“I’m not one,” you said. “Not that there’d be any shame in it.”

You could see the intensity in his features, even under his glasses, even in code.

“Don’t fucking try anything,” you said, feeling yourself floating backward. He kept coming.

“You know how long it's been? Since I’ve seen any kinda livin’ thing?”

He grabbed your wrist, and you shuddered to realize you can feel the touch blooming into a reality you could feel. He smirked, the motherfucker smirked. You attempted to jerk from his grasp, but he remained. So, you reared back and sent your fist flying. It connected, and the man let you go, reaching for his nose.

“W-what the fuck?” he growled, breath and chest heaving.

And then everything went red.

CATASTROPHIC SYSTEM ERROR….

NEURAL SYSTEMS REBOOTING….

CYBERWARE CALIBRATING….

SOFTWARE REBOOTING….

OPERATION SYSTEM ONLINE….

You woke briefly. You opened your eyes, realizing you’d watched that man die through your own eyes. Takemura was there, speaking with Vik. Exchanging pleasantries, though they were cold. “I had not expected them to attack…,” Takemura told Vik. His clothes were dirty, his bandages new.

As you faded out, Vik’s response was distorted.

When you opened your eyes again, you could tell Vik had changed clothes. You heard familiar voices. The lights were low, and it felt like night. Misty was sitting on the edge of Vik’s desk, and Jackie was in a wheelchair. His hair was loose, just in a tank top and some shorts. He was wearing slides of all things. He looked so different, and apart from the visual, you couldn’t explain it.

Your eyes were welling up, but you still couldn’t force yourself awake entirely.

When you did finally wake, it was by Vik’s hand on your shoulder. “Hey, V,” he said, stress evident in his voice. “C’mon, kid, wake up, somebody’s here to see you.” You watched with foggy vision as Vik looked over his shoulder, and said something about letting the pain meds wear off slowly overtime.

“Viky,” you said, disturbed by the sound of gravel on your tongue. You coughed, letting a hand catch the spittle that came. Wiping it on the pants Vik or Misty provided, you slowly leaned up. The room wobbled, and your hands gripped either side of the op chair. Once you were upright, you rolled your shoulders and felt the ache, unsure of whether it was from getting shot in the fucking head or if it was just that you hadn’t moved much since then.

“Hey, hey,” Vik said, voice softer than you’d heard, maybe ever. “Look, uh – this is River Ward.”

You lifted your eyes, still struggling against the neon lighting in the dimly lit room. Native guy, cyber eye glowing red, the light casting shadows under the curvatures of his features. “Yeah?” You bleated. “The fuck you need, choomba?”

Vik turned to the man and grimaced, hissing a bit. “Be easy. She just woke up.”

Your hand went to your head, an indent just off the center of your forehead. The skin was raw, clean as Vik could get it, but the indent was forever, unless you finally decided to get up the scrap to get a face plate… Which didn’t seem like the worst idea now, not after getting shot at by Arasaka, after being fucking shot by your piece of fuck fixer.

“V,” River Ward said. “I’m – I’m the detective assigned to the attempted murder that took place in your apartment. I just need your statement.”

A fucking badge? Jesus Christ. You glowered at Vik briefly, the betrayal plain on your face. “I reserve the right not to implicate myself in anything,” you answered. “Shove off.” You fought the urge to call him a pig, a relic from your corpo days. But then you stopped – “Attempted murder?” You glanced at him, lifting a brow. “Pretty sure Dex fucking killed me.”

“Seems like you’re alright,” River said, pulling up a metal fold out chair and planting ass.

“That’s… Not quite accurate,” Vik quipped.

In the same breath you wanted to politely tell Vik to shut the whole fuck up, he’s a badge, you crossed your arms and considered asking what the fuck Vik was on about. “Somebody start talkin’, now,” you said. “I don’t care who.”

Vik and River glanced between one another. Vik gave him the nod. That meant that whatever Viktor Fucking Vektor was going to tell you was bad enough that he wasn’t ready to come right out and say it. Shit.

River cleared his throat. “So… Two weeks ago, you had your chooms, Dexter DeShawn, and Goro Takemura in your apartment. It dissolved into you getting shot, Mr. DeShawn getting a knife in the shoulder, and a loud enough ruckus that it caught the attention of two NCPD officers already visiting a citizen on the floor below yours.”

Two weeks. Holy fuck. Had Evelyn tried to contact you? Shit, shit. Shiiiit. You allowed your face to remain plain, though you were certain your eyes gave something away. Arthur Jenkins, your former boss, had always hated it about you – your eyes were always a tell. You could practically hear him, It won’t bode well with negotiations, V. Pack up your shit and put it in a shit museum for all I care. Following that, you fought the urge to deny that Dex or Takemura were chooms. Associates, unfortunately.

“And then what? You tellin’ me Takemura got the officers upstairs or what?”

River snorted a little laugh. “No. Uh – DeShawn tried to run, resulting in a real knock-down drag-out. Menendez and Petrova, the officers downstairs, said Takemura was an inch from rail stomping the guy. Takemura didn’t make it out unscathed, either. He’s decided not to press charges, though.”

Against yourself, you could feel yourself smiling. Closed lipped, but it was there. You knew better, but you were grateful that Takemura responded to the attack, didn’t let Dex just keep savaging you. For his own reasons, sure, but it’s always nice when little things like that work out. He was wise for not just zeroing him. You didn’t imagine you’d be able to go back to H10 if that were that case.

Clearing your throat, shifting your weight to the edge of the ripper chair, you said, “So, Detective Ward. What is it you want me to say? Seems like it’s a pretty shut case.”

“Sure does, really clean. Which in my line of work is suspicious.”

You just nodded. “Yeah, I bet. Anyway, Dex shot me. I’m not going to implicate myself in anything. I’m not going to pursue charges.”

“It doesn’t matter,” River replied. “NC is going to press charges of their own. DeShawn’s weapon was an illegal mod. Self replicating bullets connected to his bank account. But if that’s all…” River lifted his brows, as if you were an inch from spilling.

“I’m a merc, Detective Ward. It was just biz. The forgettable kind. Dex did something stupid, for no reason, because the alternative was losing rep. And look at that? He lost it anyway, legally and not.” You nodded sarcastically. “That’s all I’ve got. Respectfully. Now, if you would kindly, please go take a walk.”

River sniffed, a smirk rising to his mouth as he stood. “No problem. Sure we’ll be seeing each other around, V.”

God, I hope not. You held your breath until River fucked off back to wherever he came from.

Vik let loose a big breath, as if he’d been holding it, too. “Why’d you tell ‘im you were a merc?” He leaned over his desk and picked up a bottle of whiskey, and slid his chair over to the chair.

You took the cup from him and let him pour you a couple fingers. You took a drink, and even the dry whiskey felt like water to your tongue and throat. “What’s the word, Vik?”

He shot back his whiskey and poured himself another. “Listen, uh – we’re gonna have to chat.”

“You’re freaking me out, Vik. And that’s saying something – I’ve been having these – these hallucinations. Dreams. But they were more real than dreams.” You sniffed, rubbed your nose with the back of your hand.

“Yeah, uh – I know, V. I know.”

You snickered. “What, was I talkin’ in my sleep or something?”

When Vik didn’t smile, a weight in your stomach began to drop. It was slow, like a rock attached to the ankle of your understanding, and all of you was under water.

“That trinket you slotted? I’ve never seen anything like it,” he said. His thumb and first fingers rested against the space just above his eyebrows. He rubbed at his forehead, then his brows, eyes cast down at the floor before finding yours again.

You shrugged. “I got a bullet to the brain, Vik. What’s worse than that?”

His brows went up sharply, as if what you had said was possibly the dumbest thing he’d ever heard. “This, decidedly, V, is worse than a fuckin’ bullet to the brain.”

There was something shocking about hearing him curse. It wasn’t the actual act itself, but the baritone of his voice, the way it wobbled. It was the whole ordeal that really made you sit down and shut up.

Vik cleared his throat. His brows were still lifted, but he let his eyes shut briefly. He rolled his shoulders. “That chip you slotted, the relic.”

“Yeah?”

“There’s a construct on it. Whatever you’ve been seeing, feeling, it’s from him. His life, his memories.” He went briefly monotone, the desire to be clear and specific overriding whatever parental affection he had for you.

“Who?” You hadn’t mentioned the anger you’d felt, the loneliness, the desire for destruction or the wish of a completely different life.

“Johnny Silverhand… He was a big name back in my day.”

You snorted. “So you’re saying I witnessed the Night City Holocaust?” You wanted to roll your eyes, laugh with him about the ridiculousness. But Vik wasn’t smiling. In fact, he looked like he was going to fucking lose his lunch.

“If not all of it, at least part,” Vik answered. He picked up his cup and took another drink. This one was slower, more level than the first. “He died fifty years ago. Which, maybe you saw, too. But, yeah. You both are connected in a way I can’t make head or tail of.”

You ran a hand through your hair, leaning back in the chair. “What is it you’re trying to tell me, Vik? I can see it on your face.”

He licked his lips, eyes narrowing at his knees. He rubbed at his jaw, and seemed to be thinking dutifully about what it was he wanted to say next. “Doesn’t seem like you’ve got a lot of time left, kid. Can’t say for sure. Could be weeks, maybe months. But… Your nervous system isn’t going to hold out forever.”

Ahh, yeah. That’s it. The world around you came into sharp focus. The air coming out of the vents was tinted lighter, the colors richer. The static in your ears was practically eliminated and suddenly…

You needed to find Evelyn Parker. Now. Maybe Anders Hellman, preferably Yorinobu Arasaka. You needed Takemura. Fuck.

Vik cleared his throat. “You’re… remarkably quiet, V.”

There was a rage alight in your chest and there was no getting rid of it. “Not a problem, Vik. I’ll get it figured out.” Your voice was the kind of flat you only used when getting reamed by superiors. Felt a lot like you were getting reamed by God, just in that moment. You wanted to make a name for yourself? Here’s a deadline. Fuckin’ run it or don’t, but the world won’t wait.

You started to get up, fighting the weakness in your knees. That was going to be the first step. You wanted to find Jackie, Misty, anybody.

“Wait –” Vik put his arms out, his skin rough and warm, like a real living thing. You were cold and soft, wobbly like a baby deer, when baby deer were born in the wild. You could feel the lifeless glaze that had come over your eyes. Everything that had been in such sharp detail was fuzzy, clouded by a grief you hadn’t yet realized you were capable of.

Sure, your parents were out of the picture, far from NC, no family in town to speak of. You’d thought it was better that way. “You’re going to faint getting up like that,” Vik bleated. Then, he turned to the stairs, still holding you against him. You might’ve heard him call for Misty.

The room was spinning again, and from somewhere deep, there was a barely audible whisper: Take it slow, sugarpit. Gonna kill yourself if you can’t get a grip.

Successfully jarred, you used Vik to keep you standing.

Misty dutifully came down the stairs, and she and Vik helped you get up the stairs. At the mouth of the stairs, just off the railing, Jackie leaned against it, one hand on a wheelchair. Probably the same wheelchair he’d been using. “Lookin’ a little starry eyed there, chica.” He was smirking, but his eyes were brighter than you’d seen in some time. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna pull through there.”

At the sound of his voice, processing his words, it sent you into a laugh. “God, and here I was wondering what had happened with you.”

Misty and Jackie marched you up to your apartment, Jackie leaning on every available service if he wasn’t actively pushing your wheelchair. You’d gone about the whole ordeal, and were just saying how you’d thought you had died, how you and him were together in some netscape afterlife nightmare.

But your voice quietly died, realizing that someone had cleaned your bedding and your bed cubby’s wall. Looked cleaner than it had ever been. On the wall had been placed a group picture from the last time you, Misty, Vik, Jackie, and Mama Welles were together at her place for tamales. You had your chin rested on Jackie’s head, Misty had her fingers up in bunny ears behind Vik’s head. Mama Welles was front and center, looking up and smiling at Misty’s bunny ears. It was a surprisingly soft moment for her, since she didn’t even like Misty.

“Who put up the pic?” You asked.

“My mama,” Jackie said. “Said she wanted to make sure shit was golden once you got back. Thought the place needed a picture and a plant.”

You glanced at the couch, the long slash of blood just off center of where Dex had been sitting. “And that?” you asked.

“That fuck Ward didn’t want her to even clean your bed an’ shit,” Jackie said, as Misty helped you get into your bed. He quickly took your place in the wheelchair. “Figured maybe she wouldn’t push it, once she’d got your blood off.”

“Ah,” you said. And you were grateful. It was touching. But you knew you would probably not step back into this apartment as soon as you could move your shit.

A silence followed. Misty sat beside you, and Jackie looked a little forlorn out the window.

“So –” you started, making Jackie’s attention return to you. “What’s your diagnosis?”

“V,” Misty cooed. “You should rest.”

“She’s gotta know sometime,” Jackie said. His hands rubbed along his thighs before stopping at his knees. “I got ‘ware to keep me alive. An’ that’s about the extent I’m gonna be able to handle. Para siempre.”

You sighed. “Fuck us, huh?”

Jackie let out a dry half laugh. “Yeah, guess so.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

“Uh…” Jackie looked up to the ceiling briefly. “Been working between shifts at the Cojo. But I’m building up the scrap to start a moto repair business out of my garage. Misty’s gonna help me with my books an’ shit. Y’know.”

Maybe you’d been the one given a death sentence. Maybe you were even glad to see Jackie again. “I hate that look in your eye,” you whispered. Jack’s eyes went hollow, staring out the window, and they even remained that way when they found your own.

Jackie shrugged, briefly pursing his lips. “We’ll figure it out.”

“It was a shit job from the start,” you muttered. “Dex and his big dumbass come back. And Ev–”

“Good thing you brought that puta up,” Jackie said, leaning forward slightly. “She hit me up a week or two ago, wanted me to let her know when you woke up, since y’know, the relic. She’s on Jig Jig.”

You let yourself fall against your bed. “Good, good,” you said. “Thought I’d have to go on some wild goose chase.”

“Well, you still might,” Jackie said. “You know how NC is.”

Snorting, you shut your eyes. “Couldn’t say it better.”

Misty laid back on your bed, too. “You wanna hear about the meds now?”

“Meds?”

Misty lifted two bottles above you. “Omega blockers keep your friend silent, a recommendation from Vik. Pseudoendotrizine, from me, will release the beast, so to speak.”

You took the bottles and held them up, listening to the little pills clinking around in the plastic. “Giving me drugs to kill me?”

Misty shrugged. “What’s happening to you is bound to be painful. Nerv sys issues aren’t shit to fuck with. Maybe there might be a point where you don’t wanna be in control anymore, and that’s not a bad thing.”

You could feel something like the ripple of a laugh under your skin. It radiated from your belly, didn’t belong to you though. “I gotta sleep,” you said. You were passed the point of being capable of dealing with it. Exhaustion crept in, clawing at the edges of your consciousness.

Jackie and Misty left slowly. You could hear them saying shit about your sorry state as they were leaving, as if Jack wasn’t practically in a wheelchair full time.

You opened your contacts and called Evelyn. You didn’t expect her to pick up. It rang for a chillingly long time, and then Evelyn finally breathed, “V,” over the holo.

“You were a fucking noose, Evelyn,” you growled.

There was silence.

And somewhere in that silence, you let out a pitiful sob.

“I know,” Evelyn whispered. “I’m so fucking sorry for what happened. Saburo wasn’t supposed to be there. The ICE wasn’t supposed to be so thick.”

Letting your shoulders rock with the weight of each rolling cry, you fought the urge to smash your hand against the wall. “Who hired you?”

“Who hired me?” Evelyn repeated. “I commissioned the heist.”

“Yeah, I get that. But the relic wasn’t something Yorinobu just talked about. That’s not pillowtalk. Who the fuck commissioned you to scroll the BD?”

You listened as Evelyn lit a cigarette. “The VDBs. The runner crew from Pacifica. That’s why I didn’t go back to my old job. I’d have to be connected to the net… And once I got in contact with Jackie, heard about you and Dex, I…” She took a drag of her smoke, and you listened to the lilt of her breath as she exhaled. “Let’s meet. Can we meet?”

“Why?” You asked. “The relic’s activated. There’s nothing for you to sell.”

Evelyn cleared her throat. “Meet me when you can. We can work out a plan. We’ll figure it out.”

Sure, sure. Like you hadn’t heard that before.

#cyberpunk 2077 #evelyn parker #johnny silverhand x reader #johnny silverhand x v #jackie welles #vik vektor #misty olszewski #liar.exe

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