05/10/2077
Aldecaldos Encampment, Outside of Night City
The Badlands, Northern California
V and Panam
-
"Give me five more minutes, V." Lennox, the head ripper for the clan stated as he fiddled with the Operating System chip at the base of V's neck. "You should be walking in no time at all."
V grunted, his hands tightening around the armrests as he felt electrical pulses tingle his spine. "You said that an hour ago, and I haven't actually taken a step since I got dragged here. Come on, can you hurry this up?"
Panam had turned up halfway through the technical operation, watching from afar as her friend underwent repairs. "I wouldn't complain if you don't want to walk at all after all this time. Then you'd have to travel with us, and as much as I like you, I don't want to be carrying your ass to bed every night."
"Ha, Panam, you ever thought of being a comedian?"
"No, but I should write some material and see what I can do if you want me to?" Panam said, stepping towards V with a wide shit-eating grin. He didn't say a word. "Didn't think so, big guy."
The heavily mechanised cyber-soldier remained seated, Panam catching the occasional jolt of his arm or legs when Lennox accidentally shocked a part of the jail-broken Militech OS under the skin. V had been vehemently against having it swapped out, to Teddy and Lennox's dismay. Instead, he'd gone to the extreme extent of having it repaired as best as it could. His Sandevistan chip was experimental, state of the art from before he unlocked his corpo cyberware.
He couldn't risk any weakness, especially if the endgame of his campaign against Arasaka was going to end as he thought it would. He needed every advantage he could get a hold of; he couldn't suffer an expense of making himself weaker. He'd lose his hacks, despite the little use they got considering his skill with his firearms. He felt his skin tingle again, the small bolt of heat travelling down his titanium-coated spinal cord until that heat pooled in his stomach.
He would have felt queasy if it had been his first time getting his brain and spine getting tinkered with. Having his vitals be fiddled with was no different to his arm spasming and having to get a new one. The only difference was that he couldn't swap out a spine, and swapping out a brain was unheard of.
He'd been forced to take his combat shirt off, exposing the mishmash of scar tissue that coated almost all of his upper right torso. He'd been at peace with his appearance for a long time, no point in getting hung up on appearances when barely anybody got to see what was underneath the combat uniforms and ballistic vests. At the camp it was different, the skin was always on show, legs and arms mostly, but the occasional guy might take his shirt off to take in the sun. That's when V felt uncomfortable, especially at the encampment.
Everyone else looked normal, their skin was not patchworked, it wasn't sutured and soldered to hell and back where the tones of the synthetic skin clashed if it was looked at hard enough. The two trios of black metal bolts across his chest, sealed and tightened for a reason that Panam didn't know or want to know. Then there was the scattering of grey patchwork, a material used when synthetic skin wasn't available or affordable, something similar to what Rogue had that covered her navel, something she wasn't scared of showing off.
The only difference was that Panam barely ever saw V exposing his midriff for the purpose of style. He covered himself up on purpose, hidden away under tactical vests, combat padding and protective straps. She leant against the interior of the truck trailer, her eyes wandering over the skin that wasn't synthetic but the skin that she could just tell was the genuine article. It was rugged, it was darker than the patchwork artificiality that covered the lower half of his stomach.
He was so well-built, so toned and muscled, she couldn't help but wonder if it was real. Did he become one of those who juiced and had bio-implants to turn him into one of the best soldiers, or did he forge himself into a weapon on his own initiative, decide to augment and cyberize because he deemed it necessary? Thoughts and theories lingered, and she'd soon taken to biting her nails in the silence.
"Got something on your…" V asked, his voice cut off before his voice box groaned a low rumble when he looked at her. His vocal cords must have been implants too. "…mind?"
"Just observing. No lewd thoughts, if that's what you're wondering."
V's eyes rolled. "Well, you said it. Can't say I'd blame you if you were though."
Panam smirked but hid it away quickly. "You know, I've been missing the egotistical version of you, then I realised you loved yourself a little too much."
The male nomad's eyes glowed a bright yellow, and Panam could just see the small info-links that were visible around his irises. Text and settings scrolling up and down before his eyes returned to their normal colour. Lennox had quickly placed the safety goggles that rested on his forehead over his eyes, small sparks erupting gently from the back of V's neck before they soon stop completely. She turned to look at the youthful ripperdoc, his bright red mohawk shining under the surgery lights before she joined him, leering over his work to see what he had done to V. His artificial skin was soldered down again, almost welded to the rest of the RealSkin layers that covered parts of his body.
"There we go, V." Lennox stated. "Try walking now."
V took a deep breath. "Here goes nothing."
Smartass answers or comments aside, V soon managed to stop gripping the armrests and pull himself forward. He adjusted his grip for his weight and active augmentation, stopping himself from lurching forward and into the floor with too much speed. Panam had soon linked her arm with his right, keeping him steady as he took a series of quick breaths as he managed to put one foot in front of the other.
"Freedom, fucking finally," Johnny muttered under his non-existent breath. "Let's blow this dustbowl den and get back into the city."
V placed a roll of eddies in Lennox's hands, the ripper counting them out before Panam had guided V slowly outside of the trailer. As they walked past the campfire, he'd soon unlinked their arms as he began walking on his own. Panam could have sworn he was walking faster than necessary, and she soon found herself left in the sand and dust as he approached the cars at the other end of the camp. Of course, he was going to leave and go back to whatever crusade he was dedicating himself to, and she had very little doubt that it would be anything other than getting his own back at the cost of the Arasaka Corporation.
As she approached, she could already see that V had begun re-tooling and re-arming for his next step. Getting rid of the ripped shorts that he was too large for, he'd donned a pair of ripped black jeans and combat boots, clipping kneepads around his legs before he picked out a sleeveless combat shirt and a ballistic vest. Closing the trunk, Panam approached as he laid out a beacon on the hood of his car, clipping his pistol belt around his waist, ready to ride into the distance once more.
The beacon flooded the hood of the Outlaw in bright blue light, series upon series of files based on the figure of one Adam Smasher. Images of him over the years clashed, some of them where he looked just about human, with others where he looked like a steel demon with barely any skin. She'd caught sight of a warning above every other file, detailing how he'd been so cybernetically enhanced that he was around ninety-seven per cent cybernetics.
"He's barely human," Panam commented, standing at V's side, clips of his tactics and approach playing in front of her. He was a raging bull, made of steel and carbon and everything in between.
"Always has been," V grunted. "Just a good thing we managed to get what he wanted before he could. One more thing Arasaka doesn't have."
Panam had turned off the beacon, with V turning to her lightning-fast before he turned it back on before Panam turned it back off. "Look, I know it's going to seem like it's a stupid, stupid question. Is going after Smasher really the best idea right now? After everything, you've just started walking and you already want to try and get yourself killed again."
V's face was flat, Panam couldn't glean anything out of him. "He won't be expecting it."
"And he'd kill your ass all the same. It wouldn't matter who was with you, the guy is clearly a fucking tank, and he'd run right through you like he did when we found you!"
V shrugged his shoulders, and before he could even respond to what Panam had said, he'd already been pulled from his thoughts. Panam had pushed him away from the hood of the car, taking the small beacon and placing it into her back pocket. He tried to stop her, raising a hand limply before she pushed him hard again away from the car. She tried it once more, gripping her hand lightly in his silver grip. She'd pulled back to free herself, eventually softly punching away at his ballistic vest, blows that V could barely feel as she desperately swung at his vest. His grip softened slowly, as well as loosening as her punches died away.
She looked at him dejectedly, the look in her eyes gave away what she was thinking. Tears brimmed before slowly falling, but she didn't cry or whine loudly as anyone else would have. Her fists tightened, nails digging into her palms as she took calm breaths to find her centre. The warm feeling in V's stomach had died away, leaving him feeling cold and empty as well as being a bloody fool.
V approached slowly, Panam stepped away before she inevitably stepped forward. Her hands found his, finding herself tight in his embrace. "You don't understand, Panam. He's taken everything."
"He hasn't taken us…" she replied, sniffling as she felt his nose drift slowly against her locks. "…you still have us. You'd always have us. You have me, I won't leave you here, not on your own. Not again."
She found comfort in his grasp, warmth in his words even when she disagreed. "I can't let you get in the way; I won't let you get hurt when other people need you. Saul and the clan need you."
Panam gritted her teeth, fighting her way out of his grip before she made eye contact. "Yeah, and you're a part of the clan too. You're an Aldecaldo. Don't think I don't talk to Saul, even if we don't agree. He told me everything. He knows what you're worth, and so do I! You know what he said to me when you were asleep last night? He said you were always one of us, in spirit. You're an Aldecaldo. The clan needs me, and so do you. You're not getting rid of me anytime soon, soldier boy."
V had his eyes aimed directly at the floor as Panam did what she did best. For someone who kept their heart on their sleeve, and was overly emotional more than half the time, it definitely wasn't her weakness. He tried to hide the smile on his face, a smile that he wished didn't betray his true feelings about what she was saying. She wouldn't leave him, she refused to retreat from his side and run.
"You're insane, you know?" V said, releasing a heavy sigh as he felt like deflating.
Panam smirked. "I'd never run from a fight, not when you need me to fight with you."
V offered his hands, slowly and reluctantly, but he offered them all the same. She looked at him, how she could look so radiant V had no idea. The sun shone from behind her, and he could just about see the freckles that bridged across from her nose, ending at her cheeks. She put her hands in his, pulling herself forward into his chest as she filled the space between the two. He was warm, even despite the cold metal that seemed to be warming up the more it exposed itself to the sun. Panam could hear his heart beating, an odd doubled-thrum with an echo of a third beat soon after.
She felt his cheek resting on her head before she spoke. "Did you…"
"Did I what?"
"Keep the jacket I gave you, the grey one?"
She could feel his chest vibrate as he let out a muffled laugh, pulling away as he kept one hand in his before he dragged her to the trunk of his car. It opened with a dull thud, the car whining as he reached for the second duffel bag. She could see the aged, wrinkled and thin grey denim jacket, the faded patch of the Aldecaldo skull still stitched into the back, almost ripped in two. After ten years, she felt it in her hands once again, soft and thin before she handed it to V again.
"It doesn't fit anymore," V grunted, taking it and folding it before he placed it gently back in the bag. "Tried it once, but I didn't want to rip it again. Too many memories."
Panam closed the trunk once again. "Guess I'll just have to get a new one for you, big guy. Come on, take your holo-beacon and let's get going."
"Oh, we're going somewhere? I didn't know you were the raid leader now."
Panam delivered a playful punch to his shoulder. "Get in the car, let's show everyone that a true legend is one that always comes back to life."
-
The Afterlife, Watson DistrictThanks to Panam's absolutely insane driving in the Outlaw, the pair of Aldecaldo nomads had torn their way across the Badlands as they approached the border gate. They'd stopped for a moment, where V thought Panam would actually consider being a calm driver.
He was terribly wrong.
She'd increased the speed they were going, forcing the Outlaw to it's top speed as they slipped in between the lines of traffic. People desperately tried to get out of the desert before the Wraiths saw the waiting treasure troves of valuables and people. At the cost of perhaps a little bit of his sanity, V strapped himself in as soon as the modified Aldecaldo Outlaw was in an empty lane, opposed by a small guard post.
She'd revved the engine violently, the car roaring and thundering forward like a raging bull as it crashed through the border stations and straight into the outer city districts. The NCPD had been too slow, and completely unprepared for a black speeding bullet on the road, zooming into the city without care for speed or law. They'd sped past the Biotechnica energy farms in the south, straight through the Pacifica before they found themselves in Watson.
The sun had just begun to set, a sight that V had became familiar with suddenly obscured by the concrete jungle of mega-buildings and apartment blocks that towered over everyone in the city. Filtering into the regular traffic, V managed to unstrap himself, allowing himself to take a deep breath as Panam slapped the steering wheel. She opened the window, one arm dangling out the window as the approached the turn-in to The Afterlife.
V had been expecting to be welcomed by the familiar sights of bouncers at the door, chains of Night City youth waiting to be let into the hottest club in the city. He was instead greeted by gunshots, the sight of sleek black and red cars, neon tigers printed on the front. Shots were fired back, and V swore he could have seen the sight of a few familiar faces from Lizzie's Bar. They'd ducked behind a flipped-over van, with Emmerich and Shaitan firing back alongside some of the Mox.
"Fuckin' Claws," V growled, reaching into the backseat, grabbing his repeater rifle.
Panam revved the engine, the wheels slipping from left to right. "Time to defang them?"
"Damn right. Full steam ahead, into that black sedan." V ordered, throwing the repeater strap over his shoulder.
The familiar engine scream sounded, mixed with a terrifying screech from the wheels. The Outlaw thundered forward down the entry to the club, the bull-bar of the Outlaw crushing the two Claws in front before the first sedan flipped onto its roof. For a moment, the gunfire stopped out of sheer surprise at the unknown reinforcements. The Crystal Dome settings provided a little more security, hiding the identity of the drivers.
That was before they stepped out. Panam got out first, putting the two Claws that had been crushed out of their misery. Next, V had got out as he opened fire simultaneously. The rest of the Claws were shocked, desperately trying to escape from their opposition before they were filled with lead. The shots, followed by a click, followed by more shots were haunting as a hail of gunfire forced the Japanese corpo-gangoons into a corner, a kill zone that would be their grave.
The black-clad shooter from the makeshift supercar didn't let up once. As soon as his rifle clicked, and the goons tried to fight back, they got forced back. Gunfire from the Afterlife mercenaries kept them pinned down, ready to be eliminated by a merc wielding a pair of ornate pistols and smirk on his face. The two death squads from the Japanese gang were cut down, down to the man who tried to charge V in one last desperate attack when he went to reload his pistols.
The final Tyger Claw drew his tanto, slicing wildly as V managed to slip his empty pistols into their holsters. He ducked, dodged and checked every single slice and stab that was aimed at him, soon catching the arm in a solid grip that refused to let go. Panam moved towards the Afterlife, going to aid the Mox girls and the mercs when she caught sight of the final guard drive his head into V's face.
V was thrown back, laughing as he felt the bloodstream from his nose, definitely broken, much like the last goon would be. He let out a sadistic laugh, letting the goon get one more slice before his arm was caught again, driven upwards before being snapped. V stole the tanto from the air, one hand wrapped around the goon's throat as they approached the red Archer, driving his skull into the roof, the tanto soon following as V drove the Japanese dagger through skull and metal.
His silver hand brushed away the blood, red fluid rolling freely against the silver chrome. He managed to steal a pack of cigarettes and matches from the dead man's pockets, lighting the match against his boot as his cigarette glowed. Almost as if it was just another day, V stepped up onto and over the hood of the car, dropping down as the familiar silver mercenary stepped out from his cover, wiped away his floppy brown hair to see his former ally.
"V?"