Chapter Eleven

The next morning, V awoke in his apartment to the mid-afternoon sun filtering through the window slats and quiet music drifting from the radio across the room. He had a pulsing headache and a foggy mind. After parting ways with Panam, he'd taken Hellman back to the Sunset Motel for a bit of questioning, which, to be honest, hadn't gone half as well as he'd hoped. All he'd learned from the corpo rat was there was fuck-all he could do for V, besides making the whole dying process a little more comfortable. At least he'd been able to win some points with Goro out of the whole thing, but the second his ex-Arasaka pal had shown up at the motel to speak with Hellman, V got out of there. He'd heard enough. He climbed back on Scorpion's bike and headed for home, turning things over in his head. When he arrived at his apartment in Watson, he'd showered, collapsed on his bed, and zonked out for a solid fifteen hours.

He took his time getting up, eventually making his way to the bathroom, where he washed his face with cold water and took one of the omega blockers Misty had given him. He sat on the cool bathroom floor for a good thirty minutes while he waited for the meds to kick in and clear his mind. While he sat, he combed through the events of the past couple days. Even with his imminent death looming over him, or maybe because of it, his thoughts returned again and again to the same place: Panam Palmer.

V pulled out his phone and opened up his contacts list, scrolling down a ways until he found who he was looking for. His thumb hovered over Panam's name for some time before tapping it. He held the phone up to his ear and waited. Just as he was about to give it up, she answered.

"Hiya, V," she said.

"Panam Palmer," he replied. "You still bleedin' all over the Badlands?"

"Mitch patched me up. I'll be right as rain in no time."

"Glad to hear that," said V. His heart began beating faster. "You still with 'em? The Aldecaldos?"

Her tone turned downcast. "I returned to the city this morning."

V paused. "Y'ever been to Tom's Diner?"

"Can't say that I have."

"Well, listen. There's one just 'round the corner from my place. Decent grub."

V could almost hear her smile through the phone, and a bud of warmth took root in his gut. "What time?" she said.

"Six? I'll drop the location."

"Okay, V. Tom's Diner at six."

"See ya soon."

The line disconnected and V placed his phone on the bathroom counter, his head feeling much clearer now.

V took the elevator down to the street level and set off walking toward Tom's a few minutes before six. He'd been thinking about how to explain his Johnny Silverhand situation to Panam for hours now. Would she believe him? Think he was crazy? Recognize that he was trouble and get as far away as possible? V felt a connection with Panam he couldn't quite explain. Yeah, they hadn't known each other long, but they'd both grown up on the road with nomad clans, so they understood that part of each other pretty instantly. He found her intelligent and capable; he wouldn't have been able to get Hellman without her. She made him laugh. Not to mention how easy she was on the eyes.

The neon sign above the diner glowed down on him as he crossed the final street before entering the joint. Walking in, he surveyed the room. No sign of Panam yet. There were only a few other people in the place, so he took a seat at one of the many empty booths and waited, though not for long. Panam arrived, saw V and smiled, and marched in her purposeful way toward him, taking a seat across the table.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey."

A beat of slightly awkward silence passed.

"How are–"

"Did you–"

"Sorry," said Panam. "You go."

V clenched his fists in his lap. His palms were starting to sweat.

"I was just gonna ask how the Aldecaldos are holding up. How's Mitch?"

Before Panam had a chance to respond, a brusque waiter showed up to take their order. V ordered some pancakes, and Panam opted for a synthmeat burger. Once the waiter had retreated to the kitchen, Panam spoke.

"They're doing okay. Still stinging about Scorpion."

V nodded. "I'm sure."

"Scorpion said I would hate Night City," she said. She pulled a napkin from the dispenser and began picking at its edges.

"He must have known you pretty well," said V.

Panam gave a sad smile. "Probably better than I know myself. He said when I'd had enough of the city, we would get ourselves an RV. Then we'd stock up and hit the road. Crater Lake. That was his big dream."

"Heard it's beautiful there," said V. "And that Ryan Diemer's car is rusting at the bottom."

"What? Who?" Panam tossed the napkin aside and swept the pieces she'd picked apart off the table.

"That corpo, stole some sorta prototype. Think it was Militech," said V. "You don't remember?"

Panam shook her head.

"Anyway," V continued, "chased the guy through three states, only to fish his body up outta the lake."

"Killed himself?"

"Doubt it. Think they hit him with a virus. Anyway, lost control. Probably suffocated before he could drown."

"That is fucked up," Panam said, raising her eyebrows.

"But you stopped thinking about all that sad shit for a moment, right?"

Panam laughed. "That I did."

At that moment, the waiter returned with their food and dropped it off on their table without a word before slinking back to the kitchen once again. V and Panam ate in silence for a few moments.

"I've been thinking about a lot of things," said Panam through a mouthful of food. She finished chewing and swallowing, then continued. "About the shit with Saul, about Mitch and Scorpion. About the family I…had? Lost? Left? Adopting? I didn't know it would be this fucking complicated."

V swallowed a bite of his pancakes, took a drink of juice, and nodded. "Tell me more," he said.

Panam sighed and threw her fork down on her plate. She folded her arms across her chest. "I don't get what's happening to me. I'm in this city, free to do whatever I want with my life, but…Fuck. Am I really free? If I left my old life because things started to get a little inconvenient? That would mean I'm always just going to be running. Does that make sense?"

V nodded. "It does." He paused before continuing, nervous about how Panam would react to what he was thinking. "Maybe…maybe Mitch was right?"

Panam squinted, scrutinizing him.

"I just mean maybe, if you don't want to feel like you'll always be runnin', that you should go back. Settle everything, once and for all. One way or the other."

Panam scoffed and shook her head. "I can't change Saul. And I can't change what I think about him. So don't go lecturing me on compromises, please." She set her jaw and looked out the window at the street below.

"Hey," said V, drawing Panam's focus back to him. "I didn't mean to. You don't have to try to change Saul. Definitely shouldn't change yourself. But trust me–you can live with someone you don't always get along with."

Panam scoffed again.

"I know," said V. "Sounds corny. But it's true." He shrugged.

Panam said nothing. V watched her take another bite of her burger and trace the handle of her coffee mug with her fingertips. She was quiet, thinking. She swallowed and cleared her throat, leaning forward with her elbows on the tabletop.

"Mitch and I have put something together for Scorpion tonight. A send-off of sorts. Will you come?" Panam's eyes darted between his, earnest and searching.

"I'd be honored."

Panam looked out the window again.

"How do Aldecaldos send off their dead, anyway? Bakkers, we would build a pyre and spread the ashes on the road. Amata didn't like the idea of putting 'em in the ground and leaving 'em behind."

"Amata?" Panam asked, looking back at V.

"Clan leader, long as I can remember."

"Aldecaldos bury our dead. But Scorpion, well, he had something else in mind." A small smile crept along the side of her mouth.

V and Panam finished eating in comfortable silence. V wiped his mouth with a napkin and tossed it on his empty plate before heading to the counter to pay for the food. When he returned to the table, Panam was gazing out the window once again. He studied her for a moment before speaking. "You ready?" he said.

Panam nodded. "This fucking city," she said under her breath as she stood.

V followed her outside, where they both climbed into the Thorn. Panam told him more stories about Scorpion as they drove, leaving the city lights behind them.

They drove for thirty minutes before reaching the end of the road–an unfinished bridge that dangled over the edge of a deep, sandy ravine. The sun had all but gone down, coating the desert in dusty twilight. A souped up nomad ride was parked on the side of the road, and as they got closer, V was able to identify the man leaning against it as Mitch. Panam pulled the Thorn over, and the two of them exited the vehicle. Mitch gave Panam a quick hug before turning to V and extending a hand.

"Hey, Mitch," said V. "You doin' okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," Mitch said. "I'm doing all right."

"Is everything ready?" asked Panam.

Mitch nodded. He walked around and climbed inside the car he'd driven out here.

"That rig was Scorpion's," said Panam.

V gave the ride a closer look and whistled. "Nice wheels," he said.

"Mmhmm," said Panam. "Damn right."

Mitch climbed back out of Scorpion's ride just as the trunk door swung open. "Holy shit!" said V, unable to stop the words coming out of his mouth. In the trunk, Scorpion's body lay on its side, curled up like he was asleep. Dark, encrusted blood still covered his clothes and his skin. V cleared his throat. "Sorry," he said. "Wasn't expecting that."

"It's what Scorpion wanted," said Mitch.

"He wanted us to take him here," Panam said. "And send him off with a bang."

"That's right," said Mitch. "We'll set him up behind the wheel, douse the car, then light it–let him fly off the edge."

"If that's what Scorpion wanted," said V, "then we'd better give it to him."

A grin stretched across Mitch and Panam's faces at the exact same time as they snapped into action. "Grab me that can, will you?" said Mitch, pointing toward a white gas canister resting on the side of the road. V fetched the can, and as he hauled it back to the car, he watched Mitch wrestle Scorpion's body from the trunk while Panam grabbed a dirty towel from the back seat, twisted it, and stuffed it in the gas tank. V poured the contents of the can over the inside of the cab as Mitch placed Scorpion behind the wheel, arranging his body just so.

"All right," said Mitch, taking a step back, closing the car door, and dusting off his hands. "No point wasting time. Another hour or two, and he'll puff up like a balloon."

"Right," Panam said. "Shall we get this show on the road? I'll light it. Mitch–you start the car." Panam felt around in her pockets. "Fuck!" she said. "I lost my lighter."

V fished his lighter out of his front pocket. "Here," he said, extending it to Panam.

"Thank you, V," she said, taking it from him. She stepped forward, lit the rag, and backed up, standing at V's side once again with her arms folded.

Mitch pressed a button on the small remote in his hand, and with a chirp and a whirr, Scorpion's ride started up. A short second later, the vehicle rolled forward, gaining speed as it approached the edge of the unfinished bridge. Just before disappearing over the edge, the entire car was consumed by a rush of flames as the burning towel reached the gas tank. Then, before V's eyes could even adjust to the burst of light from the fire, the vehicle disappeared into the ravine.

"May the road be kind to ya, friend," Mitch said. His voice was quiet and strained.

V looked over to Panam, who had a few silent tears trailing down her face. V dug his hands deep into his pockets and nudged Panam with his shoulder. "Wanna go take a look?"

Panam wiped her eyes and nodded. All three of them walked forward and peered off the edge of the bridge, down into the ravine. A flaming pile of metal wreckage rested at the bottom.

"Out with a bang. Just like he wanted," said Panam.

Mitch nodded, wiping away a few tears from his own eyes. "Soot and ash," he said. "That much remains."

After a few moments of silent staring, Panam spoke again. "So, how about a beer?"

"It is that time," said Mitch.

"I'll drink to a send off like that," V said.

The trio walked to the opposite side of the abandoned road, where a rusty metal table with a few bottles of Broseph on top and a handful of chairs were set up. Mitch distributed the beers and took a seat. Panam took a seat next to Mitch, and V sat on the chair closest to her on the opposite side. They used the edge of the table to pop the caps off their bottles and each took a swig.

Mitch sighed. "Nothing like a good cold one," he said.

"Agreed," said V, taking another swig. "Where'd 'Scorpion' come from anyway? That his given name?"

"You know," Panam said. "I haven't the faintest idea. We just always called him that." She took a long pull from her bottle.

"You seem like a good egg, V," said Mitch, raising his bottle and nodding in V's direction.

Panam smiled, and V laughed. "Well, thanks," he said. "I do try."

"The fact I'm still here to send Scorpion off right–that's thanks to you," said Mitch.

The smiles retreated from both V and Panam's faces, memories of the previous day flooding into his mind. Mitch looked toward the ravine, where Scorpion's lifeless form now rested in the dirt. "Your paths crossed," he continued. "Just for a moment. But damn, was it the right one." Mitch cleared his throat and took another drink. "And Panam," he said. "You meant the world to 'im." He reached around and pulled something out of his back pocket. "There's something you oughta have. This was a little good luck charm of his."

Mitch extended the object to Panam, and V was able to get a better look at it. Seemed like a small action figure of some sort. Panam took it, and it fit neatly in the palm of her hand. She looked at it for a good while, slowly tracing its edges with her fingers. "What is it?" she asked.

"Not a clue. Scorpion always had it on him, though. No idea why."

Panam stared at the figure a moment longer before carefully tucking it into her pocket. "Thank you, Mitch," she said.

The three of them nursed their drinks in silence for several minutes, until both the bottles and the tears ran dry.

"Listen," said Mitch. "I'm going to sit here for a while, all right? Brood in peace."

Panam stood up. "Understood," she said.

V rose from his seat and gave Mitch a nod. "Thank you, Mitch," he said.

Mitch returned the nod. "Thank you, V. For today. And for getting me out of that shit back then, too. You're all right. You're really all right." His words were beginning to slur.

V followed Panam back to the Thorn, where she turned to face him and leaned against the driver's side door. "Well," she said. "Sounds like you have a new fan."

V laughed and shook his head. "You sure you don't want to keep Mitch company?" V asked. "I can call in a ride."

Panam folded her arms. "He needs to be alone at times like these. He always has."

"And you? What do you need?"

"I have a feeling I'll be grieving Scorpion for some time yet, but this helped." Panam sighed. "What I need now is a nice view and good company." She looked into V's eyes. "Stay with me a while longer?"

"Be happy to," said V, that familiar bud of warmth sprouting once again in his chest.

Panam smiled. She turned and climbed into the Thorn, so V walked around to the other side and took his familiar place in the passenger seat. They drove for only a few minutes before Panam slowed the car to a stop. She twisted around in her seat and backed the Thorn up to the edge of a shallow ridge before shutting off the ignition. She jerked her head toward the back of the car and said, "Shall we?"

They left the Thorn and sat next to each other on the tailgate, looking out over their unobstructed view of the Badlands and listening to the quiet hum of the night.

Panam looked at him, and V met her eyes. The twilight painted them with a hazy glimmer. "Will you tell me your story, V?"

"Sure you want to hear it?" he asked. "S'not particularly uplifting."

"I am," she said.

V looked down at his hands clasped in his lap, took a deep breath, and started at the beginning.