Shinobi

Male Corpo V. Panam Romance. The Aldecaldos / Star Ending.

-On days like this, in the middle of the badlands of Arizona, between missions. Days with nothing to do, when Panam was lost in her thoughts, when she could just sit and...watch him. These were the days she could simply, reflect. Reflect on herself, her new responsibilities as clan leader. Reflect on those lost and on the long road that had led them here. But most importantly reflect on him. V. His only moniker. All that the world at large knew him as. The legendary merc who had destroyed Arasaka. His fomer masters. Only she had the honor of knowing his true name. Vincent. His name a surprising contrast to a man immersed in Japanese heritage and tradition. She had found his name to be beautiful in truth. Though he had long abandoned it in disdain in favor of a single letter. For reasons she would later learn were bitter and melancholy but entirely justified. He had entrusted her with the full story of his origins. On a quiet night alone by the fire.

He was born in Night City. Raised in the neon, gilded towers of Charter Hill. Born into a life he never asked for nor wanted. An only child, his parents were both loyal to Arasaka. Corpos who never questioned their allegiance and station in life. High above the city, looking down at the pathetic street trash below. His home life was a sad and lonely one. From how he told it, his parents were cold and indifferent to him. Absent even when present. Their only concerns for him being that he was perfect in all areas. He was of mixed ancestry and culture. An exotic and in her eyes fascinating amalgamation. His mother was of Mexician American background while his father was a mix of Scottish and English. Yet they raised him in the Japanese tradition. He had recalled eating sushi, ramen, yakisoba and other delicacies. Not all memories were bad. He recalled family gatherings, celebrations. Times he even got to taste real fish. Though humorously he'd stated how he preferred synth fish to the real thing. Finding real fish to be stinky and off-putting.

When he proved to have a genius intellect, he was placed in the most prestigious schools. Excelling in his studies and earning all the highest awards and honors. If for no other reason than to keep his parents satisfied. Though he'd learned long ago that any attempts to make them proud, to show him true love and compassion were wasted. He told her it was around the age of thirteen that he realized he was well and truly alone. That he could only rely on himself. The confession broke her heart and made her weep for his lost childhood. It seemed he'd never enjoyed true innocence. Having been exposed to the cold cruelty of the world from and early age. It was with surprising serenity and even relief that he recalled being shipped off first to an elite boarding school and later to a university established by Arasaka. The reason? Escape. Escape from parents in name only. Escape from a cold and empty home in which he'd felt like a prisoner in a gilded cage. He could finally enjoy a modicum of freedom. Even if he knew it to be an illusion.

Predictably he'd excelled in his higher education. It was during his time in university that he'd learned of his parent's deaths. On paper it had been a tragic automotive accident. Though, V had quickly deduced the truth of the matter. Recalling with bitter hate and venom, the true cause of their deaths. A corporate hit-job, carried out by Militech agents without a thought or care for the lives so nonchalantly snuffed out. They were mere obstacles. A means to an end. Despite their cold indifference, they were the only family he had. He still loved them. Thus his next decision was already made. He went to work for arasaka. Beginning as a soldier before proving himself worthy of spec-ops. He had an innate talent with a blade and covert tactics. A netrunner of uncanny ability. He would work to uncover the plot behind his parent's murders and bring down those responsible. That was his reason in the beginning. He had smiled sadly as he told her about his sensei. The man who trained him in the arts of kenjutsu and ninjitsu. A seasoned old shinobi named Daisuke. Unexpectedly, V, this 'Gaijin' had become his star pupil. In many ways, Daisuke was like the father V had always longed for. It was in spec-ops that his life transformed irreparably for the second time. A mission went wrong...very wrong. A fragmentation grenade had blown him to hell and back. His limbs and jaw mutiliated. His heart pierced. He flatlined but trauma stabilized him. Arasaka saw only one option for so valuable an asset. A completely synthetic cyber-body.

He'd gotten quiet when he reached that part of his story. Panam herself couldn't hold back a gasp. She'd wondered about his body since they first met. Politely refraining from asking about it despite her intense curiosity. The first night they had slept under the same roof at the sunset hotel, she had to bite back a gasp when he removed his shirt before climbing into bed. He had thought her to already be asleep. She couldn't help but stare at the complex network of panel lines where real-skin clicked together over artificial nano-fiber musculature and hydraulic joints. The gaps where complex enviro proofed cybernetics were visible. Later the same night as he screamed in his sleep, thrashing from nightmares her heart ached for him and she found herself immensely curious about his past. Had he been a soldier? It would explain his body. What had he been through? What had he endured? It seemed to be a touchy subject for him for a variety of reasons. He had taken a few moments to gather his thoughts. Taking a big swig of his broseph before continuing his story. From what she had gathered, he was barely human by the time he woke up in an Arasaka biomechanics lab. Apparently his only remaining organic parts were his brain and internal organs. All contained in life support modules and plugged into a fully synthetic shell. His muscles were nano-fiber, his skeleton was titanium laminated carbon fiber, his artificial tendons were reinforced, his eyes were kiroshi optics. Startlingly inhuman. All white with two pale ghostly blue circles devoid of pupils. His outer skin was mil-spec heat and abrasion resistant real-skin in an eerie yet strangely beautiful pale white that was almost almost plastic in appearance. His arms were black and red full mil-spec gorilla arms of terrifying strength. Connected at the shoulders. Panel lines covered his skin, even his face. A mechanical line across his nose indicating where his face plate could be detached for maintenance. His jaw was interesting to her. Devoid of real-skin, the cybernetic prosthetic stood out against his face. housing alloy teeth with a striking chrome finish.

As if to further drive home his body's artificial nature, his forehead bore a barcode tattoo. A serial number, marking the design and model of his face plate. His old human face was forever lost. A fact that wounded him emotionally and psychologically. He felt more like a product than he ever had before. What's more the extremely costly procedure had left him with an intentionally unpayable debt. The idea being he would have to work for Arasaka effectively forever to have any hopes of paying it off. He was their slave. V recalled that was when the first seeds of doubt and disillusionment had been sewn. He had chuckled as he mused, perhaps that was why he had customized his body as much as could reasonably be allowed. In an effort to regain his lost sense of self and individuality. His ghost white tech hair was styled into a side shaved chin length affair which gave him a moody edge that Panam found quite attractive and endearing. His ears heavily pierced with bronze adornments, while his torso sported some striking tattooing. Tiger stripes that appeared subtle on his chest only to wrap around his shoulders over his back where they were more prominent. He'd revealed they were a partial memento of Daisuke, who had remarked that the young man moved with the grace and stealth of a tiger.

She had lain in bed with him, stroking her fingers over those stripes. Following their curves and contours over his synthetic flesh. It suited him well she thought. A fierce, cunning predator. Lethal yet silent. Venomous. A fitting descriptor for one who went by 'V.' His body used a combination of synth and organic blood. His organs relying on old fashioned crimson while white synth blood maintained his cybernetic components. Truly, Panam had never met anyone more heavily cyberized...save Adam Smasher...the bastard who killed Saul. V had an augmented immune system, nervous system, a cyber-deck and illegal heavily modified netwatch operating system. She had no damn clue how he got his hands on that. Hell he even had a secondary synthetic heart in case his main one flatlined in a fight. Yet, cyber-psychosis was never a concern. The reason? His indomitable will and strength of mind. That was his greatest asset. His raw determination. He never gave up. She smiles as she recalls a certain song she'd heard on vexelstrom. One she always loved. 'Never Stop Me' by Den Of Degenerates. She had come to view it as V's theme song. Fully capturing his strength and determination.

She wished he'd be kinder to himself. His body never bothered her. A body is just a shell. A vehicle. The driver, the soul, the PERSON. That was what mattered and what shone through. She loved him for him. Of course, his body was beautifully sculpted...in every way. But that was just a nice bonus as far as she was concerned. Apparently the decision had eventually been made to fast track V into counter intel given his impressive service and track record. It wasn't a promotion he could refuse even though his disillusionment with the corp had been growing stronger with each passing day. He'd told her about the assassination job he was forced to accept by his boss. With Jackie being the only person he could turn to. A lifelong friend since the solo had saved V's life on an intel op gone bad in Mexico. The thought of the friend she had never met brought a bittersweet smile to her face. V had regaled her with endless stories about all the crazy hijinks and reckless things they had gotten into. He sounded a lot like Scorpion. She was eternally grateful V had such a friend, family, to rely on in his time of need. She knew the rest of course. The failed heist. Jackie's death. The chip. Johnny fucking Silverhand. Unbelievable. It was like the plot of a bad Bushido sequel.

V was a mystery. A captivating, charismatic and magnetic soul who always seemed to draw good people to him. A natural leader with no desire to lead. He'd lived so long as a lone wolf. Guarded thanks to his tragic past. He never allowed anyone to get too close out of fear of losing them. Jackie's death had only compounded this problematic trait. This need to survive on his own. To suffer silently. To spare those he loved. Calling Panam that night on the roof of Misty's shop was the biggest leap of faith he had ever made. He'd been panicking inside he had told her. Johnny's words echoing in his head. 'You don't want their lives on your conscience.' But Panam had sworn he could trust her. That she would be there for him. V loved her...more than he had ever loved anyone. So he decided to trust her, and she was eternally grateful he had. He had finally let go of his past. Of the city that had taken everything from him. Of his old masters. He had sought a new beginning. A new life. A new family...with HER. For the first time in his sad life, he had NO master. She admired his bravery. It couldn't have been easy for him. To be truthful she had worried for him at first. A career corpo becoming a nomad out in the badlands? Talk about a fish out of water. But, she needn't have worried. The clan had quickly taken to him. The children especially. He was so great with kids. So natural. Having seen him with his friend River's nephew and niece, when they had stopped for a goodbye before leaving the city, she couldn't stop smiling. The children absolutely ADORED him. The girl, Monique clinging to his leg and begging him to call regularly while saying how much she would miss him. It was too precious. He didn't talk down to them she noticed. He spoke to them like equals. He listened to them and respected them. He'd be a wonderful father if they ever got the chance to make it that far. To diffuse the ticking time bomb in his head...

His survival training ensured he could make himself at home damn near anywhere. Even if his yukata, designer rocker pants and syn-leather loafers were far from adequate clothing in the desert. Even though Panam loved the look on him. So sleek, suave, sexy and refined. At least they saw use any time they stopped by a city. In those times he was the clan's secret weapon. That was where an ex corpo really shined. He knew the game. He knew the machinations and plans. He had insider knowledge. All cities were run by corps. All cities had the same power structure. It meant he could be dumped into ANY city on earth and instantly be a shark among guppies. Manipulating, coercing, landing the clan jobs they would have no other hope of getting like a complex game of chess where he was already thinking five moves ahead. It was awe inspiring to watch. How he maneuvered through elite circles and the most powerful of people with serene ease and control. Control...it was both a blessing and a curse. He had been conditioned to always be in control. It came with being a ninj-shinobi, she mentally corrected. He hated being called a ninja. But yes, he was most confident when operating from the shadows. Scanning his foes for weaknesses then exploiting them. No wonder he knew Rogue's type as soon as he met her. They had something in common. Though Rogue was a bitch about it. V...he was just...efficient. Calm. Stoic. Like the calm before the storm. She noted this trait of his any time they entered open combat. The kind of combat where there was no plan. No backup. No tactics. Just fury, led, blood and steel. He always performed with jaw dropping elegance and speed. Yet she had sensed fear. He was nervous. Uneasy. Why? Because he was out of his comfort zone. He was an ambush predator. The snake in the tall grass. When he moved in the shadows, he struck first. He had a plan. He had CONTROL. Still, she knew of no one else who could dodge bullets, quick-hack everyone in the room so they couldn't move or even see, or activate his optic camo and dash between heavily armed thugs then dice them like sashimi. He was terrifying and beautiful to watch. 'Controlled chaos.' That was his word for it and it stuck with her. He set the dominoes and watched them fall. Every movement pre-meditated yet brutal in it's savagery and frenetic chaos.

He was as close to a God as a human could reasonably be, she had thought. Hell, he could hack into the camera system of a compound and short circuit every hostile inside before shutting off all the defense systems and walking right through the front door to the target. He could clear a building without firing a shot. He could even remotely quick hack an assassination target. Turning their own cyberware on them and make them kill THEMSELVES. Again, terrifying and awe inspiring to watch. And yet...he couldn't stop the ticking time bomb in his own skull. It was almost laughable in it's absurdity. So much power...yet perpetually not in control. And it terrified him. Only she could see it. He had a Hell of a poker face. Never letting his true thoughts or emotions show. Affecting a stoic zen-like calm at all times. Listening when others would have jumped in. Observing. Committing every word to memory and carefully, tactfully forming a response or plan of action before speaking. The others saw a quiet storm. An indomitable will enshrouded in a badass warrior of a leader. Someone they would follow into Hell and back. Panam saw the fear. The nervousness. The doubt buried under the surface. The curse of being afflicted with something beyond his control. And her heart ached for him.

In time he slowly began to realize he didn't have to suffer in silence or bear the weight of the world on his shoulders. He could rely on her and the clan. He had relapses, but he was making progress. If it took the rest of their lives, she would gladly chisel away at his barriers bit by bit. It gave her pride to see him fully embracing the clan. The Aldecaldos motorcycle jacket looking natural on him. As if he'd wear anything else. He still had his bollero. The one ceremonially gifted to him. But it was safely tucked away in his 'stash' as he'd called the armored and security encrypted case he brought with him everywhere. It suited him just fine. Especially with his overwhelming preference for the stealth, agility and maneuverability of motorcycles. The only time he drove his coyote was when they were moving camp or it was required for a long overnight mission. Any other time, it was Scorpion's apollo or riding shotgun in Panam's thorn. Of course in the city he swore by his Nazare 'Itsumade.' It was a Hell of a sight. Heavily modified and featuring a demonic oni face on the front. Roaring like a beast from Hell. He had a tragic story behind it. Having stumbled upon a romance gone bad back in Night City. A nomad girl betrayed by her boyfriend who was in the tiger claws. He let them kill her out of sheer cowardice. The bike had been stolen by the girl in retribution for her own destroyed apollo courtesy of the claws. Although she died, the bike remained securely hidden. V had found it and rode it back to her treacherous boyfriend. He recalled with sadness and thinly veiled anger, that confrontation. Having confronted the kid with the truth. Sending him into a blind range as he leapt at V with an electro-katana.

V had simply activated his optic camo, leapt effortlessly backwards onto the roof of a nearby kiosk and hacked the kid's brain. Making him slit his own throat. A fitting end for such a piece of shit and what he should have done in the first place V had told her...and she couldn't really argue. The bike was a sad memento. In memory of that poor girl. Josie, her name was. She had been an Aldecaldo. One who had left for the city. Panam knew of her but had never met her. Those that leave the clan aren't exactly bothered with anymore. The story made her weep however. And shake in fear as she wondered what fate could have awaited her had SHE stayed in Night City like Josie had... That night before the campfire, they had both clinked their bottles and drank to Josie.

V had maintained certain engrained aspects of his corpo so called 'cyber-ninja' background. For one he still habitually donned his former spec-ops gear before missions. It was his armor. His uniform. A black sleeveless combat shirt that exposed his Arasaka cybernetic arms, sporting very endearing custom 'V' decals on either shoulder. Another bit of individuality that Panam adored. A ballistic vest with a combat knife sheathed over one shoulder, black tactical pants with kneepads and retro-thruster boots. Panam still wondered how in the HELL he'd acquired such rare and expensive tech. They were an awe to see in action. He could dive off the top of Arasaka tower had he wanted and landed silently like a feather, unharmed. Completing the look was his helm. The one worn by all Saka spec-ops 'ninjas.' A full face affair with reinforced ballistic alloy face shielding beneath a black foggy curvature of ballistic glass. Two ominously glowing, ethereal white optics shining out. It had an air filtration system as well which was very handy in sand storms. Despite being an Aldecaldo now, it was his go to for combat. An ominous black shadow moving with silence and grace. He disliked guns. Not that he needed any to be lethal. Favoring one of his various katanas, a combat knife or tanto and a single pistol. He told her the pistol was more of a backup than anything. An ace in the hole. He was an incredible shot actually. Unexpected given his 'blade happy' preferences as Cassidy had described them. But hey, if you can literally dodge bullets, turn invisible and hack people's brains, you can use a sword if you damn well want to. He had a story behind each blade. Some funny, others sad. He even had the personal antique katana of Saburo Arasaka himself. Most would call bullshit on that claim but Panam knew V and she knew it was the real deal. He had a blade taken from a man named Oda. Another Saka 'Cyber-Ninja' that V had dueled but spared. Claiming the katana, 'Jinchu-Maru' as a trophy. Though V confessed the blade was sentimental because it had once belong to a man named Goro Takemura, Oda's sensei who gifted him the blade. V rarely spoke about Takemura...calling him a good and honorable man who had sadly chosen the wrong side. A man he made the difficult choice of betraying. He spoke of him like a fallen friend. He had a truly agile and lightning fast blade called Byakko that had been gifted to him by Wakako Okada. A fixer he had known for a long time and done quite a bit of work for. He even had a ridiculous neon pink katana that was named, 'Cocktail-Stick' of all things. Though unexpectedly the story behind it wasn't humorous. It belonged to Evelyn Parker. The woman who had arranged the doomed biochip heist. A woman he tried to save who took her own life. His favorite though, was his custom piece from his days as an Arasaka spec-ops agent. Custom made specifically for him to his specs. A midnight black blade with glowing runes. Beautiful and deadly just like him. 'Black Unicorn', was what he named it. And it was a truly fitting name. Panam had teased that the name described V as well. Her black unicorn. Impossibly beautiful but dark and mysterious. The blush on his face had been worth the half hearted punch to her shoulder. Which even without any anger behind it still stung. Those gorilla arms were no joke.

He was impossible to sum up in mere words. Though many had tried. When the clan met newcomers, they often joked they had a personal ninja. Only for V to groan under his breath and break into an adorable rant about 'ninja' being an improper word. A later invention long after the true hey day of the assassins in feudal Japan. A word commonly used by ignorant westerners raised on a diet of action films. He would insist he was not a ninja. He was a Shinobi. The others would always roll their eyes and laugh. Though eventually they grew so tired of his rants they just relented and called him a Shinobi. Panam can't help but laugh as she recalls one meeting with another clan leader who made the mistake of using the word ninja. With Mitch groaning and slapping his hand over his face while Cassidy merely laughed and replied with, 'Now you've done it...' before predictably, V launched into his usual history lesson of a rant. For all he was and wasn't, Panam was glad he was HERS...and that he was home. Her Shinobi.