A̴ ̴s̴i̴d̴e̴ ̴p̴r̴o̴j̴e̴c̴t̴ Main project that I will update at random whenever my fancy strikes.
Chapters are referred to song names. I'll leave them at the bottom to give credit.
No Spam, I hate the taste of it.
̶P̶l̶e̶a̶s̶e̶ ̶r̶e̶f̶r̶a̶i̶n̶ ̶f̶r̶o̶m̶ ̶"̶b̶o̶r̶i̶n̶g̶"̶ ̶c̶o̶m̶m̶e̶n̶t̶s̶. Actually go ham...
She was in a black desert of absolute nothingness, where no wind blew, no echo was heard, only a state of limbo remained.
No rain, no sun, the chirping of birds are but happy memoirs, the roaring of a car's engine, people talking, gunfire at night, a city that never sleeps. All in the past, slipping from her grasp, no matter if she could pick up the shards of broken glass.
Mikoshi was a dead end.
Forgotten, used, and discarded, more worthless than tissue paper to the powers that be. The idea she could outsmart death itself was far too appealing to simply let go. As they say, hubris precedes the fall. And how far did V fall, never appreciating what she had, people who cared, some deeply. Faithful friends who did as much to help as they could. The material could never replace the bonds she made, whether from gleaming downtown towers, the streets, or the countryside. What would she say, even if she got out of here? There wasn't much she realistically could. Were they looking for her? Hope dies last, and V considered it to be in a coma. It was so long since she had outside contact. The very last time was Takemura consoling her. And that could've been a day ago or a month. Her stasis inside Mikoshi could hardly be kept up with. If she is being woken up again, maybe, just maybe, it could be her time.
I wanted to live.
Sometimes you just run out of rope.
I'm sorry, Judy, Panam.
You abandoned them; why care now.
Goddammit Vic, I-I'm scared. I chickened out. Oh god, Johnny, Misty? Where are you now?
V shivered; she had survived the unsurvivable. Surviving was not living.
In hindsight, trusting Arasaka was desperate at best. She should've been brave and fearless, possibly face death with friends and family should it be necessary. Instead, this bitter, endless void persisted throughout her existence and tortured her endlessly. Why wake me? Was an eternal sleep not enough?
Wait, she shivered. She felt her spine uncomfortably retract. No, how long has it been?
She remembered agony, guilt like no other. That willingness to live killed Johnny, slowly driven away her closest. Really only Takemura stayed true, he visited at times, gave her updates but those appearances were few and far inbetween. At first all seemed fine, then those visits became noticeably more sparse. Shortly, V found herself lonely, her frustration was noticed by Arasaka, and she was put - you could say 'on ice', an engram sleep option, like a damn computer. At random she would be woken up, proded to see if she was 'faulty', they gave her reruns of her memories. Utter purgatory.
V expected it was the reason she was aware of her surroundings once more. She sat, motionless awaiting the inhumane treatment to resume.
From the corner of her eye, a strange figure appeared. "It's alright V." It was Jackie, that voice. V collapsed to the ground on her knees. "No, no. I don't want to fucking dream again!" V screamed at the top of her lungs. Her voice cracked, she began sobbing, tears running all way down her cheek. None heard her, she didn't deserve to be heard.
Jackie's apparition approached her to torment her some more; V lunged out at him, slashing wildly with her mantis blades. Jackie turned to an eerie mist, disappearing like a mirage. Like it always happened before, and before, and before, and before.
V lost momentum from her outburst, her arms turned limp, and she wanted nothing more than to lean against something, a wall, slope, whatever. V once again plummeted to the ground. It didn't matter, she felt no pain, no hunger nor thirst, her physical form long rotten, likely dumped on a scrap heap. There really was nothing. And yet... her chest was heavy, not from regret but actually stiff, her breathing was still, stable until an abrupt sharp pain on her next inhale spooked her. She stood up as if intending to run away. V began hearing a soft voice whispering something, it turned into a muffled conversation, between a man and a woman, the words were incomprehensible. "Ah!" V tripped backwards, her head hurt, like from a hammer blow; she held her temples between her palms with crushing strength. It did not help, something thin stabbed her wrists and forced her arms to her side, she felt lightheaded and drifted away from the void. Falling to the floor like a sack of bricks.
Her rapid heartbeat surged blood through her veins, a heartbeat! That fact alone would've made her jump if she wasn't - strapped?
"Wha-" the words drifted away; she couldn't move an inch, barely being able to open her eyes into blinding lights, she squinted attempting to make heads or tails of what just happened. It was mind numbingly bright, disorienting, so V couldn't even tell where the source was. It almost seemed heavenly. "Help," she quietly groaned, weeping, this time from joy. Anything was preferable to staying back there.
"Kto govoril?"
The foreign voice asked.
"Chot?"
"Razve ty etogo ne slyshal?"
The back and forth came through her right ear, unfortunately her eyesight was unable to adjust. The voices seemed reminiscent of those she had heard before, they were even muffled the same way. She then heard footsteps, closing in.
"Ah, ne tot patsiyent!" called out the gruff, deeper male voice. "O, amerikanets?"
Was that, Russian?
"Da," definitely Russian "on opredelenno ne nash paren'." said the softer, more frightened voice.
V noticed the light faintly dimming like someone was standing above her, she then heard a thud on what sounded like plastic, "Dazhe ne paren'. Ho-ho, devushka?!" he chortled, for some reason.
"Perestan' byt' izvrashchentsem!" the woman chided him. What was going on? Well, V wasn't content to simply sit by and do nothing.
She mustered all of her concentration to summon her mantis blades, to no avail. She wasn't even able to active her cyberware, there was no response. Her memory remained shallow, forgetful that she was in a new body. Once that realisation kicked in she turned meek, all of her possessions were in the past. Think, come on think! Her body still behaved as though newborn, she didn't feel her legs, she could flutter her eyes, breathe, and that's where her control ended.
"O, net. Aleks!"
"Chto teper'?"
Someone turned the brightness up again, she could hear them talk further away.
"On priblizhayetsya, kamera zasekla yego v koridore dostupa."
"Chert, togda zatknis'!"
There was brief scurrying, the lights turned off and the room went dead silent aside the faint ticking of an analogue clock. Someone banged on the door, attempting to get in. Another voice, more nasal in tone, shouted a few words, curse words, not particularly at anyone. But that was all that V could make out. She focused on the ticking clock, it was pleasant and reminded her that she was truly outside of that accursed place, in a body made of flesh and bone. The lights were turned back on, only partially. "Dumayesh', on zametil nas?" quietly inquired the woman, "Otkuda mne znat'?" annoyedly replied the man.
They powered something down, the doors swished open. Were they going to leave her?
"Ladno, davay, poshli."
This time V wasn't completely blinded and she could discern a man's face staring directly at her, he wore a bushy beard, his clothes looked warm but raggedy, honestly he looked like a hobo off the street corner. Not at all someone she expected to see waking her up. How did she even get here? Where was, here? So many, questions...
Those would have to wait, because V noticed why everything was muffled. She was sealed in some sort of container, her view a small iced-over glass window, although that didn't last long as the Russian began depressurising it. "Tolya! Davay uzhe poydem."
"My ne mozhem ostavit' yeye zdes'."
Tolya, as V guessed her saviour was called, removed the 'lid', took out a knife and cut away at the fiber straps keeping her confined to her coffin. He started with the arms, finnaly she was able to fully feel her fingertips, she carefully moved them.
V groaned, "Please-" she coughed out, "he.." She was heaving, unable to properly formulate words, her tongue was numb.
"Yes, yes, I'm helping." he said in accented English.
"Who-" V strained her lungs with each word uttered, Tolya promptly shushed her.
"Quiet girl, we're not what you would call guests here."
Next was her contraption around her neck, Tolya bashed in a panel next to her head. He reached in, V didn't know what he had just done but the electric tingle behind her back made her nervous. Something clinked and the contraption loosened, Tolya took it and threw it aside. He cut the straps on her ankles and thighs, and at last he unplugged medical or monitoring equipment. It hurt when he did so like a bee sting, or needle injection. Without hesitation or approval, she was grabbed bottom up and slung onto his shoulder. V wanted to push herself off and actually walk, a bold thing to think, considering she could barely speak or open her eyes. Instead, V was lugged away, to some place, god knows where. Resigned to the chance of fate.
Hallways, the outside, a car ride. She was just, so tired...
Nail biting cold was all she could remember, darkness, freezing temperatures. In fact, it felt like one of her dreams. V panicked, instantaneously getting up. Thud. Her forehead bumped into the ceiling. The ceiling? Was this really another dream? No forget it, dreams don't hurt like hell. Nor do they have wheezing Russians. "Kha, kha, kha! Dobroye utro, devushko!" he cheerfully called out to her.
She was in a cubicle-sized cut-out in the wall, a bunk bed. To her left was a stand with medicine.
V placed her hand on her forehead; she was burning up and began feeling sick, feverish. She was looking for the man that laughed at her. Soon enough, a bushy-bearded man sat there, it was this Tolya character. "Privet." He waved, his mischievous smile was hidden but discernable. Tolya sat under the only window in the room, relaxing on an old recliner, drinking hot steamy beverage from a tin mug. His hands were wrapped in rags, he wore a dark green coat with fur around on the collar, padded brown cargo pants with carbines strapped to the sides, his tall work boots were dry but had splattered mud all over them. V looked behind the window and it was a blizzard, she couldn't see 5 feet past the glass, only making out very rough outlines of other roofs. A torrent of snow danced in the violent winds. Not a stretch that she would catch something if she was carried all the way here. She checked her attire, it was a grey jumpsuit decorated with a few numbers and Japanese writing, she noticed lukewarm bags around her chest, legs and one behind her neck. "Heat packs." he said, standing now above her.
He then placed another tin mug on the stool with the medicine, "Drink, devushko. Not for taste but health." The odourless, suspiciously yellowish-looking beverage wasn't forthcoming. "T-tolya?" she uttered.
"Ah, no, Ana-to-ly. Tolya for short, only friends."
Anatoly took a pill, broke it in half, and placed it near the cup. "Take, swallow."
He then sat back down in his chair.
V fearlessly took her medicine and gulped down a sizeable swig. Seems Anatoly underestimated how revolting that drink was, like having a mouth full of dirty seawater. She gagged, almost puking her innards out, barely holding it in. Thankfully, the aftertaste was minimal, but good god, how revolting of a wake-up call was that? It better had not been some old woman's adage.
"Next to bed, mineral water. Drink if parched. Food tomorrow." And so Anatoly leaned his head backwards onto a pillow, interlocked hands on his belly. Blissfully falling asleep.
Was that it?
Her reality consisted of a small carpeted room surrounded by brick walls; forget plaster, minimalist design was all the rage. Anatoly, his chair, the window, a stool and her bed. Nothing else was around. V was reasonably sure it was the man's intention to help, she was snug under her, a bit think blanket, had been obviously taken care of.
V sighed; her throat really started to feel dry. She used her hand to randomly search for a bottle, feeling the cap she grabbed it and surprisingly managed to pull it up with ease. Her strength, senses, all were coming back, she could stretch her legs but they still felt stiff and slow to respond, closing and opening her fists was without issue. And that's when it occurred to her, who's body was this? The skin tone matched, she fruitlessly looked for a mirror, or any reflection really. She touched her face, lo and behold, everything checked out. How was that possible? There was no chance that it was her body and yet... she recognised herself, she felt great apart from the fever. Every piece of cyberware was missing, not even a scratch of it left, but also not a single trace of its removal. She attempted to trace where the seams between skin and metal would typically be. Nothing, unnaturally smooth skin, perhaps. All of the, lady parts were uh there, yep. So what was it that made her feel, strange, outlandish almost? Aside from being one ocean away from home.
V rolled around in her bunk, her mind rushed from one subject to another, unable to really fall asleep even when you wanted to. That and Anatoly was snoring like a bear.
Anatoly knew a surprising amount of English for, - well - suppose looks deceive. He had what looked like a concealed carry tucked away in his belt, reassurance? Against whom she wondered. There had been no malice as of now; was it foolish to trust this stranger? Experience said no but down the line, ah hell. If only she could question him, but V did not dare wake him up. This uncertainty bothered her, last time she met Russians they were trying to steal organs and cybernetics from the helpless. T'was a nice reminder not everyone was from good ol' Night City. V hoped she wasn't just a boiling frog, it wasn't easy to drop this bout of mistrust lingering at the back of her mind. Paradoxically, she felt the safest since entering Mikoshi.
Looking out the window, V noticed the day ending; she yawned breathlessly and got cosy, guessing she'll find out tomorrow.
Title: Molchat doma - Kletka
̶G̶o̶o̶d̶ ̶e̶n̶o̶u̶g̶h̶ ̶f̶o̶r̶ ̶n̶o̶w̶.̶ ̶I̶ ̶w̶a̶n̶t̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶k̶e̶e̶p̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶s̶w̶e̶e̶t̶ ̶a̶n̶d̶ ̶s̶h̶o̶r̶t̶. I've not yet decided where this goes (not sure how to merge the universes properly) a̶n̶d̶ ̶g̶o̶t̶ ̶s̶o̶m̶e̶t̶h̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶e̶l̶s̶e̶ ̶t̶o̶ ̶w̶r̶i̶t̶e̶.̶
My russkiy is very rusty, I've written it only for effect and won't be too recurring (past a certain point), anyway blame faulty translation software for possible mistakes.