Chapter Text
V stood in front of the mirror in nothing but grey sweatpants and damp hair. The bandages that adorned his body were long gone, the worst of his injuries healed and fading into scars. He traced their outlines with his eyes before he pushed a hand through his hair and sighed. V’s body was no stranger to hurt and pain. The old whispers of scars sitting deep in his skin were proof of that. Each one had a story; either a job gone horribly wrong or a stupid stunt gone completely off the rails. One story was etched across the line of his collarbone.
V reached a hand up to it as he remembered his Nomad days. He was a wild kid back then, always looking for a race or craggy terrain to attempt extreme stunts with his souped-up dirt bike. Unfortunately, his never ending chase for adrenaline highs cost him said bike and his collarbone, but the feeling of flying up in the air with nothing but sky above and air beneath him and his bike was ethereal. Remembering bittersweet moments like those made V miss his carefree Nomad days. Now life was more complicated. And painful.
V lifted his hand to his forehead, where a memento of one of the worst days of his life resided. He brushed a fingertip over the smoothed tissue of the impact site and held it there. His nightmare-induced headache from earlier was radiating from there, and the pain erupted when he pressed into the small dent. His breath hitched and he steadied himself against the bathroom counter as he tried to work himself through a flashback. After a few seconds of heavy breathing, the panic and exploding pain that was threatening to overtake him subsided into a dull ache in his head and limbs. And the faint feeling of Johnny’s presence slowly faded, too.
V could still feel him sometimes. Always the first thing he noticed when he woke up, until he remembered that he was gone for good. And then a hollowness too big for V’s heart would sink in. Alt didn’t tell him that the remnants of Johnny were still going to yearn for him. Never mentioned that his thoughts would be plagued by that dumb gonk’s face. But to be fair, V was a special case. The AI could only tell V that pieces of Johnny would remain, not what that would entail. But honestly, knowing the location of Johnny’s clone body greatly overshadowed the fine details of Soulkiller.
V remembered the way his heart lurched when Alt gave him the third option to find Johnny’s body in a secret lab underneath Arasaka tower. According to what Alt found out after breaching their systems, it was made a couple of decades after Johnny’s infamous publicity stunt. Biotechnica had been secretly working on a human cloning project and had struck a deal with Arasaka to unlock the secret of immortality with both their technologies combined. Along with the experimental chip Johnny was uploaded on, an experimental Johnny clone was made to match. A reprogrammed, gunslinging fighting machine filled with rage...that would’ve been an excellent addition to Arasaka’s assets...if V hadn’t stolen it. After disconnecting from Mikoshi, V had stumbled his way down to the sublevels of Arasaka with the help of Alt clearing all his enemies with quickhacks and sabotage. At that point, he was beginning to blackout after mowing down Arasaka’s defenses and getting his soul ripped out, but he had managed to find Johnny’s frail body folded in a glowing vat of amniotic fluid amongst others. V could barely recognize him with his overgrown hair and weak body. And then after shattering the glass and dragging Johnny’s body out, V’s mind went blank.
When he finally came to in Vik’s clinic two days later, Johnny’s familiar face greeted him. But it was different. He was missing the hard lines in his face that represented the stress, trauma, and drugs his previous body was battered with. And he had given himself an impromptu jagged haircut that was much too short. Apparently he had to relearn motor skills with the help of Vik’s exoskeleton cybernetics, seeing as his clone never moved a muscle in all its life. They were an interesting pair, Vik had commented, a scraggly virus and his fucked up host. V had laughed at that, earning himself a coughing fit and a scowl from Johnny. Probably the best moment he had since before Jackie’s death.
And then four months later Johnny returned from doing fuck-knows-what in fuck-knows-where. It had been two days since that encounter, and V was starting to think Johnny was full of shit. He’d said he was “handling business,” whatever that meant. Knowing Johnny, that could mean anything. Anything but making good on his promises. V made a face at the thought, hating the feeling that clutched his chest. Should’ve known better than to expect anything from Johnny. He’d probably said those touching things to V at the hotel and gravesite because he thought he was going to die. Apparently getting a new body made all that sentimental shit fly out the window. Fuck.
And as if the universe wanted to remind V how funny it was, a notification blipped in the corner of his eye. From Johnny. V steeled himself as he opened the message, hoping and doubting at the same time despite himself. He shouldn’t expect anything. He knew better than to expect anything. Johnny decided to go his separate way and V was fine with that. Had to be fine with that. Whatever semblance of comradery they had before Mikoshi was just out of necessity, and from slowly becoming the other. Still, he found himself opening the message with bated breath.
outside. bring iron.
Ha. He fucking knew it. Johnny was only back in Night City to tie up loose ends and use his friends one final time. V figured this would happen as soon as he left his apartment to “handle business.” Not a lot of business out there for an ex-rockerboy that’s been dead for fifty years. Unless his name was Johnny Silverhand and had a laundry list of enemies.
V took in a deep breath and gripped the bathroom counter harder. After a few seconds, he decided sure, yeah, why not, fuck it and went to his stash to grab his ol’ faithful Overture. If Johnny wanted to treat V like any merc in NC, then V was just fine treating Johnny like any client. He needed the money, anyway. Vik gave V discounts for emergency treatment since he was a frequent visitor, but he still expected to get paid. And V was happy to do that ASAP, because he valued the people who cared about him and would never think of taking advantage of them like some selfish lowlife.
Anyway.
V put on his gear and tucked his revolver in his leg holster. After a final count of ammo and MaxDocs, and also a scratch behind Nibbles’ ears, he left the apartment. He passed by Coach Fred with a nod and ignored Wilson’s desperate pleas as usual. The trip down the elevator was uneventful, and avoiding the cops sitting at the food vendor’s counter was easy. He finally made it to the top of the stairs and looked down to see Johnny’s Porsche. Parked on the street like an ass. And the asshole himself leaning against it with his arms crossed. V resisted an eye roll when Johnny whistled at him as he clomped down the stairs.
“Fucking knew it,” V seethed once he was at Johnny’s level. “You did need something.”
Johnny barely reacted to that, but it was hard to tell if he was truly unbothered behind those reflective aviators of his. “Before you get your dick in a twist,” he said, “it’s not a job. More of an illicit joyride.”
“The hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You gonna interrogate me, or get in the car?”
V studied him for a moment before huffing hair out of his eyes and moving towards the passenger door. Might as well see what Johnny was up to, even if it seemed off that Johnny asked him to pack extra heat. He did agree to this after all.
Johnny nodded in approval when V opened the car door, and then sauntered over to the driver’s side. V was surprised to find that the car didn’t reek of cigarettes or drugs. Neither did Johnny, now that he was close enough to notice. Instead the faint scent of patchouli and lilacs hit his nose, an interesting choice for a grizzled rockerboy. Not that V was complaining. He liked lilacs, actually. He wondered if this was Johnny’s way of trying to make it up to him, buttering him up with a barrage of small details he’d learned while stuck in V’s head. It would be a sweet gesture if circumstances were different.
The car ride was silent as Johnny cruised through Night City with one hand on the wheel and the other touching his chin. Evening was casting golden hues across the towering skyscrapers and streets, giving everything it touched a captivating glow. V glanced at Johnny’s stoic figure basked in ethereal light and quickly looked away, suddenly at a loss for words even though he’d imagined a scenario like this for four months. Everything that he’d wanted to tell Johnny deleted itself from his memory. Luckily, Johnny broke the thick silence, instead.
"You never did tell me how you got injured,” he inquired as he made an easy turn on a familiar street. V recognized the road as the one that led to the Badlands.
“Scavs. Cyberpsychos. Nothing I couldn’t handle,” he replied breezily and stretched into a more relaxed position. Johnny made a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a snort.
“You call endin’ up out of commish because you’re wrapped like a bloody King Tut a job well done?”
“Oh, I get it, you came all the way back to NC just to nag at me s'more. What, couldn’t find someone to bully out there ?” V retorted while pointing east, the same way Johnny did back in the apartment.
“‘M just sayin’” Johnny said without taking his eyes off the road, “Your luck is gonna run out someday, can't keep evading death."
V almost barked a laugh from the surrealness of the conversation. Never in the months leading up to this moment did V imagine Johnny fuckin’ Silverhand telling him that he was lucky to be alive. As if he hadn’t been resurrected twice .
“Christ, where do you get your rocks off actin’ high and mighty after abandoning everyone?” He sneered lowly.
V could see Johnny bristle up out the corner of his eye, and he steeled himself for a fight. Not the best idea while Johnny was behind the wheel, but V wasn’t going to let him slide for what he did. And he wasn’t going to let him slide back into his life so easily either. But the yelling never came. Instead Johnny sagged into his seat and rolled his fingertips together as if in deep contemplation.
“I just worry about ya, V.”
At that, V finally looked at him fully and found Johnny looking right back. He had somehow taken off his sunglasses without V noticing, his dark eyes turned into warm pools of amber from the sun’s last rays. He couldn’t miss the sincerity in his face if he tried. The vulnerability, the tenderness in the air...V almost couldn’t breathe in it. It was too sudden and jarring and new. V had to look away and set his jaw.
"Can handle myself,” he replied gruffly, and was relieved that Johnny turned his attention back to the road.
“Never said you couldn’t.”
V didn’t have a retort for that, so he just sat back and watched the sun set.