03/09/2077
V's Apartment, Watson District
Night City, California
V
-
V had stared at the personality construct for a moment, said moment being one of confused silence as he looked directly at the digitised man in front of him. The visual glitches had soon stopped, as well as the audio glitches, creating what looked like a completely regular (if he wasn't a hologram) person, leaning against V's pearl white bathroom tiles before he lit up a cigarette for himself.
"What's your fuckin' problem, you got an on-off switch or you just like what you see?" Silverhand sneered before he took a hit of his cigarette. "So, somebody decided to finally wake me up. That's a nice fuckin' arm you got there, think of that one yourself?"
V was somewhat shook into silence. Misty and Viktor had said to him that the data inside the chip was structured in the form of a personality engram, it was quite literally a digitised man in a chip. In fact, V had literally transferred somebody's literal embodiment of themselves into his brain. The chip was an Arasaka Relic, the Secure-Your-Soul programme the company had been running. He wasn't stupid, but apparently the heat of the moment made anyone desperate to do whatever it took. Apparently, sliding a personality chip in the slot sometimes had some unwanted side effects.
That was just the way things were in Night City, climb the ladder of chaos to make yourself legendary martyr or powerful overlord, or die trying. For once, it seemed like V had played a bad hand. Lost his friend, managed to lose more parts of himself and gained some kind of fucking digital tapeworm in his brain.
"You're Johnny Silverhand." V stuttered. "How the fuck are you, how are you even an engram?"
"At least you ain't blind, kid. That's something I can work with," Johnny muttered, walking over to the window before slipping through the blinds. "Fifty-four fucking years of pure nothing. Shit, so this is what Night City looks like in twenty-seventy-seven? Still one great big shithole, times by two anyway."
"You, you're meant to be dead? Everyone's been waiting for you to return, to save them for half a decade and you're fucking dead?" V questioned. "What a fucking joke, what a great saviour you were gonna turn out to be."
"Don't give me shit kid, you weren't even born during our time, shit was different back then. Better than it is now anyway." Johnny muttered, inhaling from his cigarette heavily.
V shook his head, ignoring the construct as he manoeuvred his way to his wardrobe, sliding on some black combat cargo pants, tucking the legs into a large pair of heavy combat boots. Lacing up, the mercenary tried his hardest to keep his eye off the hologram as he wandered about, glitching through solid objects before he leant against the wardrobe at V's side. The man's eyes were unable to be seen, the aviators blocking the disappointed look in his eyes as he stood over his carrier.
"So, V."
"You know my name?"
"I'm implanted in your mind, every memory, every thought and emotion? I know it, and likewise you to me. Well, hopefully you should. Be a fuckin' shame if you couldn't see even a quarter of the fucked-up shit I got up to back in the twenties." Johnny said, flicking his cigarette into non-existence. "So, you gonna tell me how some ex-corpo cunt got me transferred into their brain, or do I have to dig through that brain of yours to find out myself?"
V grumbled, ignoring the rockerboy as he quietly took a belt, clipping it around his waist before he attached two holsters to his belt. Johnny muttered something unintelligible about V's life, the man continuing to ignore the rocker as he strapped two more holsters to his thighs, before sliding a knife strap around his left boot, Johnny noticing a black-steel Kobun knife sliding into the sheath as V continued to prep himself, walking into the armoury with Johnny following close behind him.
"So, you used to be some kind of Nomad, then you slipped into the military and then joined the corporations? Who the fuck did you piss off to fuck up your life that bad, that often?" Johnny drawled, jumping on top of the equipment table. "Honestly, you traded your entire life with the clans to what, fuck around and make some cash?"
V groaned. "If I knew you were gonna be such a pain in the fucking ass I'd never have put the chip in my head, you're giving me a headache already."
"Why, can't handle the truth that you turned into some corporate whore because you thought you'd get to the top? Newsflash, nobody ever does."
"Yes, thank you for your wisdom. You know, you're a fucking terrorist to most people?" V argued back. "Not some heroic freedom fighter you think you are, you dropped a nuke on 'Saka Tower."
"Those people being some more corpo dog-bodies. And I gave people more than enough time to leave." Johnny shot back.
Once again, V tried to ignore the older male as he continued prepping himself. Taking a small tank top and bulletproof vest and throwing it over his head, V quickly tightened the straps before taking a set of underarm holsters and sliding them over his shoulders. Taking a nearby duffel bag, V slowly began to take armaments and ammunition from off his wall. Rifles, shotguns, pistols, SMGs, all of them were loaded, safeties secured before being placed methodically into the bag. For a moment, Johnny had become silent too, watching the mercenary throwing everything as well as the kitchen sink into his glorified war bag. Straps, spare clothing, protective padding and first aid gear went into another duffel bag, stacked neatly as Johnny finally broke the silence.
"You know, you're gonna need a lot more guns and a lot more people if you're gonna take the fight to Arasaka's door."
V stopped, looking at Johnny. "What makes you think I'm going to Arasaka at all?"
Johnny chuckled, slapping his knees a few times in a slow rhythm, head bobbing along to his own beat. "Well, considering you just lost two friends in one job. I'd say that's a cause for concern. You look like you're gonna become exactly what you said I was."
"I'm not gonna bomb a fucking high-rise full of office workers, Johnny. I'm no terrorist."
Johnny laughed aloud. "One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter, my young apprentice."
V grimaced, taking a black leather strap, sliding it over his shoulder before attaching it directly to his chest. Sovereign, his sawn-off shotgun looked alluring from its spot on his wall. Taking a bandolier of shotgun slugs, V slid the gun into the strap, the bandolier thrown over his shoulder before V picked up both bags and walked over to the front door.
Already, he'd slowly began to feel that burning feeling in his chest. He'd said to Vik that it felt similar to the effect of burning sulphur and breathing it in directly, some sort of physical embodiment of the anger and rage he felt towards the people who had taken everything from him. Had he snapped, become unhinged and become exactly what he said he wasn't? Become what Johnny was known for in the corporate circles?
The Megabuilding he lived in was just another hovel for the poor, and despite his home being small and no bigger than any other apartment in the complex, crime was still rife, even in the Megabuildings. V had locked the door to his apartment just in case, he'd rather not come home to find his entire stock of bourbon either missing or taken by some booze-addicted hobo in the night. Uncaring, V calmly walked past the stalls and groups of people that lived in the Megabuilding, some of them focusing on his state of dress and armament, others not caring.
"The one great thing about Night City, everything is so fucked you can just walk around dressed like a soldier and nobody gives a shit." Johnny muttered in V's head. "Nobody wants to become scavver bait, so carrying a damn hog on your chest looks fucking innocent in comparison."
For once, V had managed to agree with something that Johnny had said. Night City was voted by the country as one of the worst places to live in the world, and for a good reason. It was a corporate oligarchy, one where the people at the top of the corporate food chain ruled the entire place, and the people below them? Inconvenient at best, a goddamn menace at worst. V had seen it himself, if taking out a corporate leaker or rat meant bombing a restaurant on a busy Saturday night, that shit got done whether somebody would object to it or not. Hell, he'd heard about Frankfurt and China Lake. Half of a government space agency that was against Arasaka privately colonising the moon had half of its board fried on the day of a vote to withdraw colony rights.
If anyone carried, it wasn't like anyone cared anyway. Johnny was right, in theory and in practice. Nobody wanted to get spiked by scavvers and harvested for spare parts, and V hated having to walk into some nest and rescue somebody, only to already find a dismantled, bloody corpse in their place. Hell, he'd even been threatened by them. Unlucky for them, they got take home buckshot instead of cyberware that night.
V walked past the gun store once again, ignoring Wilson's calls again as he stepped into the empty elevator. For once, he'd managed to get an empty elevator to himself. The trip itself was ten minutes down to the ground floor anyway. If anything, he'd never have a quiet elevator ride every again, especially not with Johnny inside his brain from whenever he stopped appearing.
"So, what's the plan?"
V grumbled. "In regards to what, exactly?"
"You don't just topple Arasaka immediately." Johnny replied, pacing in front of the solo. "Rome wasn't built in a day, and it definitely didn't fall in one day either. You don't just get to kill Saburo Arasaka, or, go after that borged-out fucker."
"Careful there, Johnny, sounds like you got some anger issues." V smirked, at least managing to pull something over the rockerboy.
Johnny glared through his glasses at V. His hair dangling in front of his eyes before he pushed it to side. "I could say the same thing about yourself, look at yourself. Angry motherfucker, why, because he killed your buddy? Please, he's done much worse to more people than you, and he didn't give two shits then, guaranteed he doesn't give 'em now either."
V stepped up, Johnny smirking as he stood face to face. "You don't get to talk about Jackie like that, not now, not ever."
"Why, you gonna slap up some digital personality to make yourself feel better. Imagine what that'll look like, first cyberpsycho attack of the day, MaxTac incoming?"
The solo had to groan audibly, the engram laughing loudly in his ear. "Do you ever just, I don't know, shut the fuck up at all?"
"You think I'm bad? Damn kid, you never met Kerry or Boa-Boa." Johnny admitted, lighting up another cigarette out of existence. "Ain't nobody like them around anymore, bitchy, but fuckin' legends. Anyway, come on, lay it on me?"
"Kick up some rocks till Arasaka pays attention."
Johnny moaned, leaning back as if he were about limbo. "Buuuuuuuullshiiiiiiiit."
The elevator ride finally stopped, and Johnny suddenly flickered out of existence, leaving V with a small amount of peace. Moving from the elevator, V slipped past the crowds of citizens and NCPD officers on the street before crossing the road to the nearby parking complex. Climbing up the tarmacked roads and to the first floor of the complex, V was greeted by his ever-present Outlaw GTS. The hypercar, somehow, hadn't been vandalised or stolen. Something happened to still be looking over V's shoulder, or to be more accurate, somebody that wasn't Johnny Fucking Silverhand.
He'd opened the trunk of the car as he approached, throwing his heavy duffel bags into the boot of the car before closing it with force, sliding into the driving seat before he took a heavy, languishing breath as he allowed his head to just rest on the steering wheel. For a moment, he was distanced from the rest of the city, the car sealing itself away from the noise and bustle of the city.
"That friend of yours, you know him long?" Johnny muttered; legs kicked up against the dash as he sat in the passenger seat.
V grunted in the affirmative. "First friend I made when I got let into the city. Saved my ass from the Sixth Streeters."
Johnny nodded. "I feel ya, kid. Reminds me of a few friends too, if they're even still around."
"What do you even care, you were fuckin' me around five minutes ago." V grumbled as he turned on the car, slowly pulling out of the parking complex. "It's true and you know it."
The rockerboy had already started fiddling with his silver prosthetic. "Because if you want to some goddamn vengeance, you're gonna need to start properly. You want some closure, to start."
V and Johnny were silent for most of the drive, V not speaking for the drive as soon as he realised that he was speaking to himself, or at least it would look like he would be if he was around people that didn't really know his condition. He wasn't exactly stupid enough to let everyone he met know that he had the engram of a long-dead terrorist in his head, that a corp would probably want to regain as soon as possible.
That, and Johnny had soon allowed him to know that whenever he needed to speak, inner thoughts could work just as well if he was ever with a crowd or with somebody else. V hadn't responded, his thoughts remained on the one thing Johnny had said that had made any sense, the one thing that V really cared about since he had woke up. He'd fucked up with Jackie in life, and never got the chance to make right with him.
At the very least, he could make shit right with him by doing him one more solid. Misty had mentioned a funeral, but there couldn't be a real funeral without a body.
"What do you know about closure, Johnny?"
"I know that if you're looking for where Arasaka gets rid of shit they don't need, we need to go to Kabuki, in Japantown." Johnny muttered. "Arasaka have done the same thing for years, ain't ever changed."
-
The Ho-Oh Club, Westbrook District
Night City, California
VThe haunted Solo had soon pulled up in the car park of the Ho-Oh Club, another club similar to Lizzie's Bar. The only difference?
Tyger Claws ran the damn shop, Japanese gangoons that emigrated from the land of the rising sun bringing their own versions of gang warfare to Night City. From what Johnny had said on the trip to Westbrook, they were just an Americanised version of the Yakuza, something that had already been industrialised by Arasaka in the corporation itself. Blackmail, extortion, threats, it was no different to what used to happen at Militech. Only difference was that they were much more violent in how they got rid of issues, they tended to like to make an example, in brutal fashion.
"So, you wanted to visit another club?" V asked, watching the building as Johnny fully materialised. "Closure, my fuckin' ass."
"Bigger picture, V. I'm gonna walk you through it, just to prove that we can work on this together." Johnny replied. "Tyger Claws, dirty fuckin' rats just like always. Since twenty-twenty, they've been inextricably linked to Arasaka, like a fucking parasite, getting rid of issues for them. Now, look behind us, across the street, what do you see?"
"Butcher's shop and storage unit." V stated.
Johnny nodded, fidgeting with V's car freshener. "The club, and the butcher store, owned by the Claws. You know what they do in butcher stores, V?"
"I can take a guess."
V turned off the car, the hypercar's loud humming stopping suddenly as the solo got out of the car. His Sovereign was loaded, and V soon checked the security around the club as well as the butcher store. From what he could tell, and from his own personal tastes, the only places that sold genuine meat for profit were the butcher's (selling in bulk) to the street vendors who could never make up for the taste of synthetic foodstuffs. Hell, V didn't mind eating the real thing but synth-food was just a cut above everything else. He'd walked around Kabuki, tried the street food, and whilst it was okay, it wasn't great either.
The more he thought about it, the more he was angered. How Arasaka had probably painted V and Jackie as a pair of two-bit thieves that 'murdered' Yorinobu, the noble son of Saburo. Two-bit criminals, scum of the earth, wasted oxygen. V would show them, he'd swore to himself internally that he was going to pay Smasher back for every single thing he'd ever done. Murdering Jackie, trying to kill him.
That advisor, Goro Takemura. He'd be next, unless he thought getting between himself and Smasher was a good idea. V couldn't wait to gut the bastard; he'd take his eyes first. They looked like they were natural eyes too, he'd show that corpo-fuck what it meant to take away what made him feel like a human. If he had to play pretend ninja, he'd do it as long as he got to drag him to hell.
"You know much else about this place, Johnny?"
"Only that it's Tyger Claw territory, maybe you can take it apart with some force." Johnny grunted, unhelpfully. "It seems to be the only way to make these cockroaches to understand, you play with corpo-rats, anyone with a grudge is one day gonna royally fuck their shit up."
"Well," V finally crossed the road towards the store. "today is the fuckin' day."
V entered the store, a kindly old Asian man at the counter wearing a white apron, some of it covered in streaks of aged blood. "Ah, welcome, come in come in! What can I do for you?"
Hey, V, you wanna cap the old man?
As soon as the man had finished speaking, V had regretfully pulled out the sawn-off from his strap and aimed it the elderly man. His face did not betray much feeling, he knew enough that if the man tried anything, he'd have a chest filled with buckshot quicker than he could say 'for the emperor'. V kept the gun aimed directly at the man's chest, silently wishing the man had some sense.
"Tell me where the Claws are, and you won't have to worry about the Claws crawling about your shop when I tell Wakako Okada they've been working for Arasaka."
The old man seemed to be wiser than he looked. "In the back, through the storage rooms. I'll unlock the doors, just, please don't cause any more trouble than you have to."
"Good choice."
The old man walked round to the back, the younger solo following close behind him with his sawn-off still tight in his grip. His new arm twitched a little, something to do with the mod inside the forearm again. It was never going to match up to his old arm, Militech black-ops gear was pretty much above the top-of-the-line stuff they had on the market, and they had even offered replacements after-action. He missed the preemo medical insurance, the platinum Trauma Team privileges where he was pretty much an international priority in the entire city.
The two had soon reached a large steel door, the old man unlocking it quickly. "If you're looking for their owner, it's Mr Shobo. He should be in office above storage."
"The Devil of Kabuki, he's here?"
"Oh yes, he's here. You have heard of him, yes?"
V nodded. "Heard of him from Miss Okada, man's a fuckin' freak. Addicted to X-BDs, snuff smut, Moxes got an order on him because of what he did to a couple of their girls a few months back."
"Yes, yes, you get rid of the Devil, you do very well for Moxes. Go, go, before they see."
V snuck through the door, immediately into a cold room where the chill was felt quickly in his bones. A storage room for meat, a small space of it as such was packed to the brim with carcasses ready to be butchered by the old man. However, as V snuck behind a small table, the animal carcasses were slowly abandoned for body bags. Hanging from meat hooks like cows ready to be disembowelled, V slinked into the shadows. A nearby Claw was lingering too far away, a group of six guards malingering around without their one lost lamb. V had swiftly wrapped his arm around his neck, kicked his legs out from under and dragged him out of sight, snapping his neck without any semblance of mercy.
Using his cyberdeck, V soon scanned around the room, his hacks disabling the cameras and isolating them from the security system as he snuck through the large storage room, using the carcasses as cover as he slowly eliminated two more Claws within mere seconds of each other. Sliding his shotgun into his sling, V activated his single monowire, and just as one more guard approached the cow carcasses, V had already garrotted the man, pulling the filament string taut against his windpipe, hearing a smooth crack before the body thudded to the ground. The remaining three guards heard the sound of the crumpling body, but before they could find the man who had done it…
V had already vanished behind them. In the shadows behind them, the shuffling of metal sounded throughout the room, and those three guards were soon very little other than corpses on the floor. Heavy machinery like grinders and furnaces were still turned on, the sounds of the brutal metals ripping through flesh wouldn't have been audible from up in the office of the storage.
Making his way up to the office, V had readied his shotgun, the Muramasa blade that emerged from his silver arm was slaked with the blood of the last three guards. It wasn't a Mantis Blade, but the versatility of the blade itself, twisting and readjusting via the axles in his arm made him more flexible and agile when using it. Opening the office door, the savage degenerate known as the Devil of Kabuki was unaware of the black-clad spectre behind him, happily watching something at his desk. The computer display in front of him was on, the sick material that V had suspected was being viewed by the man himself. He knew that some people liked BDs because the experience of feeling another's emotions, but something about X-BDs made him feel sick to his stomach.
Sneaking up on the man, his shotgun was soon placed against the back of the man's head. The Muramasa soon placed directly under his throat, V had soon rotated the blade so he could turn to look at the man in the eye, the man dressed in a fine pink suit as he watched the display with fascination and vigour, his breathing heavily warped with excitement. V turned to look at the computer screen, his sawn off blowing the display to bits as he turned to look at the vulgar gang boss.
"I'll ask this question once. Which body did you get from Konpeki Plaza, from Arasaka?" V growled; his shotgun soon placed between Jotaro Shobo's legs. "Do not lie, or so help me god I will take my fucking time with you."
The Tyger Claw looked at V, dead in the eye. "You know who you're fucking with, gweilo?"
Wordlessly, V fired the remaining shell, ripping through Shobo's waist and genitals. He'd shortened his lifespan to around two minutes before blood loss got to him. The Muramasa was soon aimed at Jotaro's heart. "Which bag is the thief's from Konpeki, and I'll make it quick."
"E-9! The, the bag is labelled E-9, that's the one with the cholo Tino ganger in it! I swear!"
"Good."
V's Muramasa performed a chiburi, the blood shaking off the red steel blade before it was stowed safely away inside the silver arm of V. The agonised screams of the Devil of Kabuki were drawn out, languishing as he clutched at the ruins of his manhood. V would have offered mercy, as usual, but he had his own rules. He'd never offer an early end to a child trafficker, not one who gave out the pain as much as he liked to watch. His pained howls lingered throughout the storage, V ignoring them as he cut down Jackie's body bag from its hook.
The solo couldn't take the time to look, his late friend's reflection could be seen in the body bag. V slid his shotgun away, before picking up the body and walking out of the butcher store. He'd nodded to the old butcher as he placed Jackie delicately in the back of his car, before he'd shot off to the Coyote Cojo.
-
El Coyote Cojo, Heywood District
Night City, California
V
-
The Valentinos, as weird as they were in their beliefs and culture, were the one gang that didn't actively repulse V to the core.
Were they evil? Pretty much. V had heard tales of how brutal and aggressive the leader, Gustavo Orta could be when he needed to be, but other than that, he hadn't associated enough with them directly enough to care about them. He knew Padre Ibarra was heavily invested in their activities especially as their fixer, but he was a watchful eye too. He had rules for them, and if they broke them?
Well, V knew well enough that the Padre paid well for V to take care of those who refused to follow the ways of the Valentinos to the letter.
Gustavo had thanked V personally when he parked up at the back of the Coyote Cojo, Jackie was one of them a long time ago, and a brother in the Tinos then was a brother in the present. Jackie still had the tats to show he was a part of them, and Gustavo had respected Mama Welles too much as an elder to show her any disrespect. V was silent when he was offered a monetary reward, declining it promptly.
"I didn't do it for the cash, Gus." He'd said plainly, as a group of Tinos took Jackie's body to prepare it for the funeral and future ofrenda. Gus had soon pointed V to Mama Welles as she came out from the back of the bar.
V had approached slowly. He hadn't seen Mama Welles in weeks, only when Jackie was alive could he actually manage to look her in the eye and pretend to not be awkward or somewhat guilty. As much as Old McCall had been his father, Guadalupe Alejandra Welles had been the closest thing that V had to an actual mother. She'd treated him just like he was Jackie's brother, and V had taken it for granted.
Mama Welles hadn't ever seen V or Jackie armed to the teeth, but she wasn't stupid enough to assume they did innocent work. Nobody in Night City ever did, everyone had something on the side. She looked at the man in front of her, clad in black combat gear, the ornate shotgun strapped to his chest before she opened her arms to V. She had already noticed the large scar over his left eye, the colours in both eyes changed, from a natural blue to synthetic blue and hazel in the left and right eye respectfully.
V was one of her own, and just as Jackie had been her son, V would always be one of her own too. As V fell into Mama Welles' embrace, she refused to cry as V allowed himself to release the pained, silent sobs he'd been keeping inside since he'd lost his best friend, since she had lost her son.
"Thank you, V," Guadalupe said, comforting the larger man, "thank you for bringing my son back to me."