Judy fidgeted in the seat and shifted her pose a little. Just a couple minutes had passed, but her muscles were already feeling stiff. She'd been leaning forward, staring into the grey, smoky murk that ebbed and flowed just outside the headlights as the pickup truck moved. Vaguely manmade, the shadowy structures floating past on both sides could as well be tall cliffs if you squinted just a little. At the bottom of the deep techno-canyons they formed, daylight turned a forgotten concept mere moments after sundown, surrendering the scene to the feeble glow of fires barely visible through the smoke here and there. Rarely, a stray, out of place neon sign still clung to its pale existence on the side of a decrepit tower. The pickup truck rode on through Pacifica's abandoned heart, and Judy held onto the hope it would stay that way as she kept her eyes peeled.
Altogether, the view resembled an enviro from some post-Collapse docu show, except the district had never witnessed the actual events at the turn of the century. It was about twice as young, with roots in the blooming, reconstruction-fuelled fourties. Pacifica's latest—now doomed—towers had seen less than a decade pass since its sudden abandonment in '69, when corporations and investors alike had cut their enormous losses and fled, terrified of troops encroaching on the city. NUSA's invasion into the remaining Free States had seemed unstoppable then. The local media had even taken to call that measuring contest 'Unification War', sheepishly wrapping the aggressor's term in quotes and watering it down with so-called's. In truth it was anything but unifying, shattering ties and lives and hopes for a better future all across both split halves of California and beyond. When had wars ever united anyone, except in misery?
At the time Judy had just hit eighteen. She remembered sneaking in late, hiding the tube stuffed with hand-painted peace placards behind her back, only for her grandparents to never notice as they argued in front of the horror-filled newscast. Argued—or rather voiced the same old notions out loud. Never at home in Night City, for them the question always was not whether to leave, but how soon. They'd only needed a push, and the war was it. Same as when they'd left Laguna Bend behind without at least trying to contest the corpo plans for the dam like their fellow residents. No other way like run away... Things would eventually settle down, but, Judy was now certain, minds had already been set a while ago. Long before they'd first ushered her inside the newly rented apartment on Charter street, its walls yet bare, and grey, and unadorned with sea life graffiti.
Judy couldn't accept their decision then. Yes, Night City was far from ideal. Honestly, it was rife with all of mankind's assorted sins and then some. What it also didn't lack in her eyes, was potential. Something as vast, vibrant and full of energy could only change for the better. It just couldn't do it on its own, without a breath of optimism. And escaping to some Oregon backwater wouldn't have solved anything. Felt like a cheap cop-out. To defy Ainara Alvarez was to invite hell itself, but this one time Judy was convinced she had to, that she was in the right. Despite her grandmother's fury, she stood her ground and stayed.
And then she had the freedom to dive head-first into the utter muck NC essentially was. She'd jump at every chance to turn things for the better. Taking odd, thankless tech jobs that sent her crawling through the rotten and neglected innards of the city's enormous megabuildings. Getting embroiled in more protests, ending up in a group home community service that drained so much she almost lost her apt. Stumbling upon a chance position, tuning BDs and personality chips at the luxurious Clouds dollhouse. She remembered vividly how one of the dolls had thanked her for the mere fact of acknowledging that they were human, too; she'd been desperately trying to forget the rest of that devastating affair. When at last the Mox took her in, thanks to her by then formidable virtu tuning skills, Judy was sure she'd finally found the place where she can make a difference... but by then many of the once idealistic joytoy crew had only cared about their own asses.
She had to fight to remain true to herself every step of the way, because nobody in this city seemed free or open to change. Night City was pure, concentrated egoism, and misguided at that. Most people went on with their lives like dolls willfully controlled by their chips, living out someone else's induced fantasies. And the rest were either powerless about it, or in charge. What was there to do but stick one's head down and go with the flow? It was during one of such bouts of futility that she'd taken on Evelyn's offer. Scroll me a virtu and you won't have to do anything for the rest of your life but art. Shoulda known a disaster when she saw one by then. At least there was one bright side. When Ev descended to Judy's basement studio that day, she was accompanied by a certain red-haired, blue-eyed merc who would change Judy's life for good.
Now they'd only need to start anew and away, meaning Judy had to admit she'd been wrong in the first place. That's where unnecessary doubts usually started creeping in.
"Like something's always waitin' around the corner," she would tell V. "A missed solution, an opportunity. A promise. The city's so good at selling rosy stills to starry-eyed gonks! Even when the gonks are all jaded to hell."
"Lecturin' the expert here," V would softly chuckle and continue sipping her coffee with milk, sometimes mixing up the identical cups as she rarely took her eyes off her output. Judy wouldn't mind, for it filled her with the kind of warmth unattainable with merely a hot drink. No, just a couple weeks max, and we're off, she'd keep promising herself.
A sudden bump in the road shook her thoughts back on track. Judy gripped the handrest just a millisec before she would smack her head into the cabin's ceiling. Disaster averted, she slowly lowered herself back down into the seat, exhaling. River grunted a distracted apology from her left, while Judy's eyes inevitably returned to the map.
On the screen, the pickup's position marker was making its way northeast at the pace of a skezzed-out starfish. Wasn't exactly the direction they needed to go—Batty's was across the boulevard in the northwest—but the man was likely doing all he could. The heart of the district, planned out in a neat and orderly fashion, fared pretty poorly against time, malice or simple indifference. Like a cluster of neurons holding a disused memory, the grid had turned into a barely connected tangle. The synapses of streets fell into disarray, torn apart and sliced up with countless piled obstructions. It must've taken River an innate sense of direction to navigate this labyrinth without prior knowledge and in such a poor visibility, but they'd never had to back up from a dead end, even as he carefully avoided the more apparent signs of civilization. Here, it mostly meant sticking to the deeper dark.
Judy kept on watching, listening to the steady engine hum and the muted rustle of tires creeping across the strewn rubble. Not another sound anywhere. Seemed like the locals had taken a break from their frequent clashes and now lay in wait, ready to jump the gonks trespassing in their domain... The detective had insisted on keeping the radio off, and with the way she'd been living the last few weeks, media blasting away in every room, this heavy silence was seriously getting on Judy's nerves. At some point she caught herself shaking her leg again; it took a conscious effort to stop.
The atmosphere was getting worse as they progressed, in every sense. What little outside air was making its way through the Thorton's clogged air filters was reeking of burning plastic and rubber. Not a good breath mix. She couldn't help but imagine the fine particulate slowly settling down her throat. At this thought, she coughed. "How does anyone survive breathin' this crap?"
"Nobody's out here for long," River replied somberly. He reached into the back seat without slowing down, while Judy was eyeing another source of light coming up on their right.
A heap of plastic crates was burning next to the sculpted entrance arch of another tower, a once-luxe hotel of some sort, still shining its name in slanted, dying Japanese glyphs. Not a soul stayed around so the fire was having the time of its life, eagerly consuming the containers. The blaze was sending up disgusting clouds of thick black smoke. They billowed and rose slowly, lit up with a mix of orange and flickering pale blue. Judy knew a nova enviro when she saw one. Her hand automatically made the small gesture that activated her BD recorder. Could it hurt to scroll just a little bit, to stay sane? A good look directly at the fire, zooming in to capture a better impression. She'd have to cut the emotions, the smell—all except the spatial render, which would go nicely with a different context. But as she was taking in the scene, Judy couldn't shake a feeling she was missing something despite the scroller running in the green. She paused to snap a still with her lenses, to look at it later without having to pull one from the virtu.
"Here, have a sip."
Judy almost jumped as River slid a thermos flask into her open hand. The truck was turning left, down the street leading directly away from the fire. She unscrewed the flask's plastic cap and peered inside. The insulated bottle was nearly full with what looked, and didn't smell, like regular water. Dual-color lighting refracted in the glass and liquid, forming mesmerizing patterns on the inside. She slowly turned the thing in her hand, making sure to capture the visual while it lasted, and at the same time pondering. The detective had asked her to point out every detail. But just how verbose did she have to be? He already had a lot on his plate, what with her agreeing on taking this way too unsafe shortcut. Did she really need to distract him with a vague feeling about all the burning trash they encountered? She snuck a glance at the ex-cop, busy steering the ride. Probably not.
"It's no RealWater, but no tap poison, either," the detective said, noticing her indecision.
"Uh," Judy shook the flask, looking at the water sloshing inside, "recycled, then?". Given the pretty enny for anything approaching clean, it was also a popular option. From DIY rigs to decades-old spaceborne systems that somehow got to the market, the results varied greatly in the chemical sense, which understandably made her a little nervous.
"Not quite. The old water tower was just sitting out there, so Joss's neighbors pooled some eds together and punched a deep borehole, all the way down to the last aquifers. Some filtration and it's even potable. Gonna last a couple years, they say."
A drink from the glaciers is a drink from history, a TV slogan came to mind. "Appreciate it," Judy replied, trying to sound upbeat, and took a few careful gulps. The chilled and thankfully tasteless water washed down the irritation, at least for now. She stashed the flask and took another good look back. River's truck was modern enough to feature mirror cams instead of old-school rearview mirrors, but also old enough to only project the cams' output onto the driver, so she had to twist her neck to continue watching the pyre fade in the haze behind.
River threw a quick glance at her. "Notice anything?"
Judy shrugged. "Lotta stuff went up and nobody around," she said, waving the scroller off.
"There are times when a buring pile o' trash is nothing but. Keep at it," the detective nodded with encouragement.
They rode in silence for a while, now slightly faster as River was getting into it. Rows after rows of empty windows swept past to the faint smell of dashed hopes. Judy was growing increasingly awed by the scale of the place as minutes ticked down on her interface. Usually a distant, compact existence, to appear only in criminal coverage and screamsheet sensations, the district seemed to stretch for ever when one had to actually brave it. A small city, written off with a swipe of a finger on some stylish datapad.
By cruel irony, it had also been the corpos—Arasaka specifically—that had prevented Night City from being taken over back in 2070, when their shiny fleet sailed triumphantly into the harbor following the desperate plead of the mayor. By that time he and the city council had been ready to sell everything and their own mothers just to stave off NUSA's advance, not mentioning lifting all restrictions on corporate involvement still in place after the twenties' chaos. As a result, Corpo Plaza's new towers, spearheaded by the reprise of Arasaka's black obelisk, had been racing for the californian sky ever since, heralding the bold new age of no corporate responsibility whatsoever.
Had this really been the right time and place for her naive optimism, Judy wondered. How could she now know for certain anyplace else would be different? Didn't matter, she chided herself. The future now lay in whatever her and V would imagine together. She no longer had to brood on these things alone. Just had to keep going and make it real.
And keep reasonably calm, like the detective was trying to. Though—she noticed—every once in a while he'd reach into his coat and touch his favorite revolver, perhaps for added reassurance. When he also slowed down, bent over, reached under the dash and pulled out the stashed shotgun, she became really concerned. Judy watched River fiddle with the gun's readouts and make sure it was loaded before replacing it. "What's that about?" she asked.
He stared straight for a moment before replying. "We might've strayed too far off course. Have to find our way back to the boulevard before too long. This area up there," River tapped the map near the old city stadium, directly to the north of their position, "is what's usually referred to as the Combat Zone of NC. Out here, Pacifica seems mostly deserted, but the Arena itself is a lawless hive like no other."
"Think that was the point?" Judy pondered. "Leaving a single way through so the corpos end up in lands uncharted or back away?"
River nodded slightly, keeping his eyes on the road. "Seems consistent with what we've already seen. Could be the case."
"But they never would. In lay terms, we might just be ridin' straight into an enormous trap," she summed up her worries. "One that's good enough to stop a private army."
The detective shook his head. "Nah, we're too small a deal for a group that'd wanna strike at the corpos. Whoever it is, burning their chips early wouldn't make sense, eyes in the sky and all," he pointed a mechanical finger up. "The sats see through the smoke all right. What I'm worried about are the small-time goons who caught wind of this funnel. We gotta be wary of those."
"So that's why you're sticking to paths less travelled. 'Least there's still choices."
"Yeah. Probably not finished yet. Same time, can't be too cautious, or we'll end up in the Badlands proper if we keep dodging." He nodded to the right, where at some point behind the remaining blocks the steep desert hills walled in the district's ragged shape. "They say you don't make a whole case with half the gut."
"...like scrollin' half a brain," Judy chuckled. "Bet no job's not got this saying."
Hiding her wayward smile, she focused back on the road. They were already coming up on yet another T-shaped intersection. Here, the main road took a left turn, descending into a tunnel underneath an unfinished tower while a narrower offshoot continued on into the ruins, shut by a chainlink gate. The boardwalk around the crossing was cordoned off by a corrugated steel fence, its 'Under Construction' notices covered with layers of old graffiti. The straight way seemed a dead end, a notion reinforced with piled garbage bags. Judy glanced at River. He was leaning forward, eyeing the tunnel enthusiastically. Finally, the direction they needed to go.
It was when their ride drove over the faded crosswalk grid that Judy was suddenly struck with the familiar feeling of too good to be true.
In the virtu editing biz one usually aspired for the end product to look and feel like an everyday, plausible experience that a feeler of any background would easily get into even if the depicted events themselves were all kind of outlandish and over-the-top. A few targeted cuts and a touch of mundane sensory input here and there lended that special air of authenticity to an otherwise unreal scene, though the large studios definitely overdid it with the safer feel. It was all about the balance. On the other end of the spectrum, sensation junkies wolfed down BDs where every aspect was tuned to pop and flash to the point of sensory blindness. Of course, to their skezzed minds it seemed normal by then, unlike the boring and muted real. In the indie editor scene the overtune was generally considered as bad as playing it all too bland and distilled. It resulted in a braindance that was better than reality, but in the wrong, uncanny way.
Exactly as Judy felt, looking outside. She struggled to point out what precisely was wrong with this intersection. Perhaps it was the dead but somewhat intact streetlamp leaning over the crossing, or the tunnel entrance being suspiciously clear of debris, or the other way out too locked down. Or the fences themselves, all sections miraculously remaining upright after eight years of neglect. Then she saw the pickup truck's headlights glint on the metal of the lock chaining the gate together. It was brand new.
"River!" she cried out. "Don't turn!"
Without questioning her or even blinking, he stepped on the gas. The Thorton's powerful engine roared to the squeal of tires. This wasn't what she'd meant! But the ride already surged forward, Judy fell back into the seat, and everything happened at once.
She heard a muffled shout and the intersection was suddenly flooded with cold fluorescent light. Sections of construction fence collapsed outwards, revealing frantic activity. People in dark, featureless bodysuits scrambled and ran about in all directions as if also surprised. A shiny thing shot out across the road down near the tunnel. Up closer, on the corner, one of the figures was rotating what looked like a wide, squat cannon, trying to catch up with their ride as it was speeding past the turn. In a second, when the device seemed to aim ahead of them, it spat out a long chain of metallic spikes. Judy pressed her teeth together, holding on for dear life as River kept accelerating. The chain whipped over the pickup's empty cargo bed, found no purchase on the sides and dragged itself clinking to the ground.
Behind them, on the right side of the road an engine roared to life, then a black van rode out through one of the openings in the fence. The vehicle tilted, barely making the turn to follow the Thorton. Its trajectory led the van directly towards the strewn spikes, but the driver never slowed. Judy held her breath and froze, hoping to see the tires blow. But the van drove right over the strip as it were a holo, and she hissed a curse.
"Hold on!" River shouted.
Judy whirled her head forward just in time to see the gate rushing at her. Instinctively, she gripped the safety handles. Garbage exploded in front of the truck and splattered the windshield. With a loud crash, the left half of the gate disintegrated into mesh and metal rods while the right slammed open. One piece of the frame, still chained to the sturdy lock, whizzed by Judy's window and smashed through the mirror cam. The pickup lurched and for a moment was flying along the narrow alley. It landed heavily, rebounding, as River fought for control. Stuff in the backseat jumped and clattered, spilling out of the box and onto the floor. The map pad flew out of its holder. Judy bit into her lip, forcing herself to let go of one handle and catch it mid-air.
Behind, she heard another crash and powerful lights flicked across the cabin's interior. She looked back, more to confirm than find out. The van was giving chase. Even against the blinding glare Judy had recognized the model: the same nondescript Villefort she herself drove, except it wore a sleeker, more streamlined bodywork that seemed to let it cut effortlessly through the polluted air. The van was barelling down the narrow alley like a signal through a fiberoptic, deliberate and about as fast. River was flooring it, but the distance between the two rides was rapidly shrinking.
The passage they ended up in was some kind of maintenance way, overhung with pipes and girders, huge dead fans frozen on the sides here and there. Judy leaned forward, trying to make out the nearest turn through the smears that the wipers were struggling with. She finally saw the brick wall on the right reveal a side opening.
"Look!" she shouted, pointing it out.
They were rushing towards it with the van was almost onto them. Judy didn't want to imagine it slamming into the pickup. She saw River lightly tapping the wheel with his thumb, about once a second, mouthing below breath, "That's... our... cue!" At cue he stepped on the brakes and spun the wheel, throwing her into the seat. He kept alternating the two motions until the ride slid almost sideways without losing much speed. It drifted like that for a moment, then he hit the gas again. Tires screeched, sending the truck forward, exactly into the turn. Judy only caught a short glimpse of the van speeding past and disappearing behind the corner.
River accelerated to keep their advantage, knocking down an odd garbage pile or scaffold as the truck sped along. Suddenly, the buildings on both sides parted, and they were in the open, on a regular road running perpendicular. Immediately, he hit the brakes and the Thorton screeched to a halt. The detective's head snapped left, then right, undecided. Judy followed his eyes. On both sides, the road went into the dark along a seemingly unbroken line of buildings. Ahead, nothing caught the eye. Had they already reached the cliffs? But the hills were supposed to go up, not down! The van's engine roar echoed from behind, drawing closer.
"They'll outrun us in the open," River said, matter of fact.
Judy craned her neck to look ahead through the gunk stuck on the glass. In front of them, the ground descended away in a gentle slope. It was full of tree stumps sticking out of dry, tangled grass. A gravel pedestrian path wound downhill.
"What's down there?" Judy asked, already looking at the map pad in her hand. "Dammit, no good." She realized they'd reached the former park at the edge of the developed blocks. Down the slope, at the foot of the actual cliffs, was a narrow artificial lake.
"Y'know, this could work." River stepped back on the gas, directing the truck forward, onto the path. He dodged a couple ad stands and in a moment arrived at the embankment. Naturally, the lake was now a dried-out refuse pit, deep enough to put them out of sight, provided nobody came too near. On one end a service ramp led to the trash-covered bottom. River guided the truck down the ramp, then killed the engine.
And right in time, too. In the near complete dark they watched the van's headlights glitter off the few lamp posts still jutting up above the lake.
"If they get any closer, get out and hit the dirt," he whispered, placing his hand under the dash. Judy held her breath.
The lights swept to the left, then pointed in their direction and stopped. Judy heard the van's engine go to idle, then two indistinct voices argued with each other. Seemed like right above the truck, but it was hard to tell in a pit. She slowly reached for her iron, heart pounding like crazy. Seconds came and went, then without warning two doors slammed shut, the van's engine revved, the beams shifted to the right and the noise began moving away.
River slowly retracted his arm. "Went left," he said quietly.
"Where we woulda gone," she breathed out.
The detective inclined his head, listening to the van's engine sound echo in the distance. Satisfied by hearing it recede, he took in some air and looked at her, tapping the side of the steering wheel. "So, nice one, Judy." His eyes searched for something and stopped on the map pad in Judy's hand. "Saved it too, huh," he said. "Wanted to note, I almost went into that tunnel. So easy to get fixated on the goal, but that's exactly what the partner is for."
Judy averted her eyes. "Right. Don't mention it," she said. "Was just a hunch." She reached to plug the map pad back into its socket. "Some preem drivin' here too," she rose a finger, managing to keep her hand from shaking. "What sorta gangoons d'ya think we ran into this time?"
River mulled it over for a second. "Didn't look too prepped. Wanted to snag us with stingers, but the placement was all messed up. Needs to be set up for max speed, before the turn. And who the hell fires 'em at the last possible moment?" He shrugged, looking into whatever distance was still discernible in the haze. "Gear looked high-end though. Lucky they didn't bring a monowire shredder. Pops in a flash and shears most tires clean off. Often wheels, too. Though it's a MaxTac thing, the regular precincts are yet to glance at a single unit..."
Monowire, Judy smiled inwardly. That took her back. Eight days now, to be exact...
\\\\\\\\\\\\\
"Think I should chip in a monowire reel?" V shook Judy out of her bliss with an off-the-rails question. "Some nova ones just hit the rippers." They were chilling in V's bed, talking a myriad little things, while the latest movie was spinning in the background all but forgotten.
"W-what?" Judy gripped V's hand a little tighter and looked her straight in the eyes. She could've easily gotten lost in their enchanting blue, had the convo stayed free of sudden topic skips. Alas, her output happened to possess an uncanny ability for multitasking, as well as pursuing several lines of thought at the same time. Perhaps that was the one essential req of becoming a 'runner. "You're askin' me?"
"Yeah, Jude. What's so strange? Since you now got a"—V chuckled—"vested interest in this bod, it's only fair I run this by you."
The modern freedom of body modification sure appealed to Judy's creativity. Even if she wasn't inclined to run wild with it like most of the Mox, swapping out arms, legs, faces and other sensitive parts as the biz required. No, her cyberware ended with a basic control setup, a pair of cheap lenses plus a nova braindance suite, but her own skin was a blank canvas to fill. Lacking only a kitchen sink, an ignorant choom would mumble, warily eyeing the numerous patterns and images running all over her body. Couldn't be farther from the truth, for each of her many tattoos was telling an essential story.
Those came in great variety, from song verses that had inspired her at some point, to red roses and Mox symbolics; from the regrettable fire truck, an adolescent mistake she'd eagerly blunder into all over again, to a laser-wielding shark, a once impossible combination becoming a bizarre reality in the toxic, mine-infested seas. Some of the visuals weren't strictly from the real, instead inspired by shapes or emotions captured with her BD scroller, often in her sleep, when imagination went into overdrive. In the end, what actually mattered most to her was the expression itself, the freedom of letting creativity run wild.
To Judy, the process was very personal, almost intimate. So it was all the more endearing to hear V seeking her advice in this matter. The fact signified a great level of trust she'd rarely shown anyone herself. Could she even now do the same, let V pick her a new piece of chrome? She hesitated to pursue that thought. Which meant there remained depths yet to reach and feels to unwind. Regardless, that called for another tattoo, perhaps a play on duality? Or, better yet, to set the whole biz in stone—or rather skin—it absolutely had to feature V's name intertwined with her own. Shit, she'd never found out the real name! Struck by that insane realization, Judy opened her mouth in astonishment.
"Ground control to Judy A.," V waved her hand slightly in front of Judy's eyes, concern marking her visage.
"Oh," Judy breathed out, snapping back to the present. "I mean, that's... very sweet of you to ask." She gave V a warm smile. "Buut, I never saw you as quite the 'in your face' type. Why the 'ware?"
V propped herself up on an elbow. "Never hurts to be ready, just in case. Plus, the new models let you shoot the wire smack dab into a choom's onboard. Bam!" V's splayed hand shot up. "Instant link, no overhead," she grinned, unable to hide how excited she was about the feature. "When it all connects, that is. But it's supposed to, most o' the time. Runs on a standard cell, too."
Judy frowned, slowly tracing V's fingers one by one with her own. "Don't they... need to chop these off to install?"
V's eyes went wide. "God, no! It's '77, Jude! Just swap out some bones, fit two small forearm braces and stick some coating so I don't chop them myself. Easy as PieZ!"
Judy shook her head. "Guess I gotta brush up on my killer chrome..."
"Will be fine. Oh, want me to flick you the specs? Got it all ready," V half-extended her hand in a file transfer prompt and inclined her head in that special way she did, shining her irresistible smile.
"I dunno..." Judy let her gaze wander away from V's tempting form. Past the lone bottle of beta wave blockers on the narrow windowsill a cargo airship crept slowly through the pale sky, its whole side running an animated ad. Don't live in the moment, the words scrolled along the vessel's length. DTR Payload Insurance. Judy looked back at V and inhaled deeply, taking in her lover's sweet scent. She wanted this bliss to last forever, but a sober outlook demanded some concessions. "If it's an absolute must, OK? Don't wanna be the gonk that hurt you. But I get it, you gotta keep an edge over the next 'punk."
V slowly shook her head. "Plenty o' nomads would rather die than paint their ride a single color, but guess I'd still be out there in the dust if the leather had fit. Got my 'deck right here," V touched the nape of her neck. "The rest is peripherals, really. Not strictly necessary."
"And where does your output figure in that scheme?" Judy intoned.
"Why, in my arms!" V exclaimed with a grin, snaking her other arm around Judy and squeezing.
"Then there's also the psychological aspect that kinda matters to her," Judy pointed out. "Don't wanna imagine mi calabacita slicin' people up into linguini. Or lasagna. Ugh," she groaned as she came to imagine exactly that. "You gimme enough reasons to worry, no?"
V licked her lips thoughtfully. "Right! I could use a bite, actually. Want me to grab us some noodles downstairs? The guy makes it real preem, and it's just down a level. I'll be back in a sec."
"I'm serious here," Judy said, noticing irritation in her own voice.
V inclined her head, looking back with a smile that could easily melt ice. "Thought I said it? Promise, we'll be skippin' the wire for now." She leaned in until their heads almost touched and her hot, sweet-scented breath washed the skin with a pleasant warmth. Her nose softly traced a line on Judy's cheek, sending goosebumps down her back. Judy let out the air she'd been holding in a soft gasp and nudged closer. "Now, about those gorilla arms..." V whispered wistfully in her ear.
Judy hissed, baring her teeth. "You! Tease!" She pinched V lightly on her naked shoulder. "Why'd I fall in with such a gonk!"
Her output's answer was a burst of devious laughter.
The noodles were preem indeed, though. Judy couldn't resist grabbing another bowl when, much later, she emerged from the megabuilding into the neon-lit twilight of city streets, still hungry for more.
\\\\\\\\\\\\\
"Won't get away from me," Judy whispered, clutching the hand wiper a little tighter. She was balancing on the side step, reaching over the truck's tall hood, scrubbing the last of the windshield clean in the uneven light of River's bargain head lamp.
River grunted, pulling out a length of tangled steel mesh snagged in the ride's bumper. "Say again?"
"Oh. Not been hearin' them for a while. We good to go?"
She watched him give the result of their work a long sad stare. The Thorton was beginning to look the worse for wear, all dented, scratched and dripping with cleaner fluid. At least now they could see clearly. "Good as new," said the detective with a sigh. "Let's hit it."
They tossed the tools into the mess that was the back seat. "Tidy up later", River muttered, climbing inside next to her. The engine coughed to life, the headlights once again lit up the years of trash accumulated on the lakebed and the Thorton slowly began backing up the slope.
Temporary A/N: Updated small parts of earlier chapters with facts/fixes/corrections, including an expanded scene of Samurai reunion flashback in Ch. 3.
Thank you all for your messages (in case I missed some), they do give me hope.