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Blackwall. Soulkiller. Engrams and holograms. Two months ago, give or take, V would have been beyond confused by all of this. Scared shitless at the prospect that lays before them. Death isn't something any normal person faces like this. But, well, V isn't a normal person. Not by far. And Night City sure as hell isn't a normal place to live.
V reaches the top of the steps, holographic form flickering slightly as their eyes land on Johnny, his own red form a stark contrast against the glowing gold beam beyond the bridge. The cool air, or lack thereof, feels distant. Dreamlike. Everything about this feels unreal, like seeing everything through a haze. Maybe a BD would be a closer description. All too real, but not real enough.
V approaches Johnny, almost hesitantly placing a hand on his shoulder, which is surprisingly solid.
"You're here!" V says, a small grin tugging at their lips, the tension in their chest easing just a little. Johnny spins around, looking as surprised as he does relieved, which isn't much considering who he is as a person. "Who was right, ya cranky bastard?" V adds, voice light but with a glint of something softer beneath it.
Johnny’s gaze flickers over them for just a moment longer than usual before his lips twitch into something of a smirk. "Hah. You were right, V. You were." His voice carries the usual dry cadence, but there’s something in the way he says it. Like maybe he’s finally letting go of the rest of that stubbornness.
"Heh, and who just ate their words?" V teases with a half laugh, the sound almost too loud in the space around them. There's that usual lightness in their tone, but it’s tinged with a certain kind of knowing.
Johnny scoffs, the familiar edge to his voice making this whole situation feel way too normal. "Oh, fuck off." He walks past V, the hum of the space distorting around him for a split second before he blips out of existence, reappearing some twenty feet away. He settles into a holographic booth, the illusion of a lazy, casual posture belying the tension in his shoulders.
V follows after a moment. They sit across from him, the space between them strangely comfortable in its quiet. The silence stretches between them, and V takes a moment to settle into the booth, their eyes scanning the space. It’s hard to focus. Everything around them is a blur of code, but something about the way the space feels—cold and endless—pulls them in. They turn to Johnny, breaking the quiet.
"Is this it? The infamous prison of souls?" V asks, their voice low, eyes flicking around before settling on Johnny. There’s a strange, unsettling calm in this place, the weight of it thick in the air.
Johnny stares at the table, his fingers tapping against the holographic surface. After a beat, he hums, his tone quieter than usual, almost reflective. "Not how I remember it, but Alt wasn’t runnin' the show back then." There’s a hint of something in his voice. Nostalgia, maybe. Maybe regret.
"So... Where are all the Soulkiller's victims?" V asks, voice steady, but there's a curiosity to it, something that pushes past the gravity of the situation. They can’t help it. There’s too much they don’t understand.
Johnny shrugs, his posture lax yet tense as he looks up to meet V’s gaze. "Fuck if I know, we only see what Alt wants us to see." His voice is a little rougher now, like he's pushing down a quiet resentment.
V looks at him for a moment, considering his response, but it’s not like they expect anything more from him. Still, something feels... unfinished. They push the thought aside with a small exhale, looking out into the endless black-and-blue around them.
"Time’s short. We should probably hurry before Arasaka sends reinforcements." V says, almost reluctantly, a small hint of urgency creeping into their voice. Time's running out. They're both more aware of that fact than they're comfortable with. "Where's Alt?" V asks next, the question hanging in the air as they turn their attention back to Johnny, searching for some kind of answer in his eyes.
Johnny’s lips twitch, almost a smile, but it’s more of a knowing look than anything. "Haven't caught on yet, have ya?" he asks, though the words come out like a statement more than a question. He kicks his feet up onto the table, settling into a more relaxed posture. Like the weight of the world doesn’t press down on him in here.
V furrows their brows, a slight flicker of confusion crossing their face. "What? Whaddya mean?" They’re used to Johnny’s cryptic responses, but this one feels different. Like he’s already in on something they’re not.
Johnny gives a soft huff, shaking his head slightly. "Alt’s already split us. Once you jacked into Mikoshi, she lit you up with Soulkiller." His tone is matter-of-fact, like he’s explaining something simple, but there’s an edge to it. Something V can’t quite place.
V hums in response, their eyebrows quirking up as they let out a low whistle. "Your output don't fuck around." There’s a strange admiration in their voice, but it’s mixed with an underlying sense of unease.
The space shivers and distorts as Alt manifests, her form towering over them. She’s the same as Johnny and V. A red sharp contrast against the soft ripple of the environment, cutting through the code like a scar. Her voice rings out, smooth and robotic, with an odd grace. "I am not his girlfriend." The words are clipped, a matter-of-fact statement, but there’s something in the tone that’s more… pointed than usual. If this were any other situation, V might have laughed.
V’s eyes flick up at the towering figure of Alt, feeling a strange mix of awe and discomfort at her presence. "Hey, Alt," V starts, trying to keep the mood light despite the weight of everything, "So seein’ as we seem to have Soulkiller outta the way, what’s next?"
Alt’s gaze doesn’t shift, but she responds with the same precision as always. "I am currently verifying the checksum and eliminating engram copy errors in the process." The words are efficient, factual still, but they don’t ease the knot forming in V’s stomach.
V’s gaze flicks to Johnny, uncertainty creeping in. "Wait… You mean... I... Am I a construct?" They ask the question softly, as if saying it out loud might make it too real. The possible truth settles in their chest.
Johnny’s voice is steady, but there’s a certain softness to it now. He can’t lie to V. Not here, not now. "She means you followed in my footsteps." He glances at Alt for a brief moment, then back at V. "Next step is to copy you into the gonks’ brain." Johnny’s words are blunt, simplified for V, but they carry the weight of finality. The kind of finality that only this place can offer.
"Wait, hold on." V’s voice rises, urgency and frustration creeping in. They lean forward, palms flat on the holographic surface of the table. "I wanna know what the hell happened to me. Exactly!" The words feel sharp, edged with the realization that something has been kept from them. They weren’t told they were gonna be made into a construct. Not like this.
Alt doesn’t flinch, her voice steady and cold. "I applied Soulkiller to separating your two psyches, thereby creating V's distinct construct. An added analgesic protocol precluded any perception of pain." There’s a pause as the words settle in the air between them. V’s heart is pounding, the realization gnawing at them.
"I was unable to eliminate all the changes made through the Johnny data incursion and overwrite, but V's engram integrity remains high." Alt’s tone remains clinical. Like she's explaining something simple. But there’s no comfort in the words. Only cold, hard truth.
Johnny turns his head, looking at Alt, a shift in his expression. "Meanin' you can transfer their psyche back into their brain?"
"As if onto a blank, virgin partition," Alt responds, her voice unwavering.
"So that’s really it. We're done. You kept your word," V says, the words coming out slower than they intended. They let out a breath they didn’t realize they were holding, but the weight of the moment still presses down on them.
Alt pauses before responding, a change in her tone, something more serious. "There is one aspect I failed to take into account." V and Johnny look at her sharply, a knot of dread twisting in V's stomach.
"Alt? What?" Johnny asks, pushing her to continue.
"The body is a key factor in this transaction," Alt begins, her voice devoid of emotion. "DNA reconfiguration by the relic has progressed too far. Added to aggressive, invasive medications, the body's immune system attacking its own neurons—"
"Christ, will you just skip to the end?" V cuts her off, voice ragged, impatience bleeding through. They want answers, but they’re afraid of what the answer will mean.
Alt’s response is final, almost too calm. "After I transfer your construct into your body, you will die. It is inevitable. It is imminent."
The words hit V like a punch to the gut. They freeze, every muscle locking up as the weight of the statement settles over them. Their heart sinks, the room suddenly feeling too small, too suffocating.
Johnny watches V’s reaction, his own expression unreadable, but the silence between them stretches on. V’s breath catches in their chest, and they manage to get out: "Are you absolutely sure? Check again." The words feel hollow, desperate. Their chest is tight, thoughts running through their mind. This whole debacle was supposed to happen so V could live. So they could go back to normal day to day life. Not delay death.
"You shall live about six months. Perhaps somewhat more." Alt’s voice rings out, cold and factual as always, her hands moving idly as she speaks. But the weight of her words hangs in the air, oppressive and final. Johnny crosses his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable, though the tension in the room is palpable.
"No, no, no..." V mutters, shaking their head, eyes flickering to the table before they look away, not able to meet anyone’s gaze. "There's gotta be somethin'... Somethin' we haven't thought of." The panic is creeping in again, sharp and insistent. Desperation claws at the back of their mind.
Alt’s voice cuts through the silence with brutal honesty. "Your body will see you as an intruder."
"But it’s my body!" V nearly snaps, frustration bleeding into their words. They stand up, hands pressed to the table, fingers curling into fists. "It’s mine."
"The biochip's nanites have altered it permanently. The body is now Johnny," Alt explains, her voice as cold and detached as ever, her eyes glinting faintly as she turns her gaze to V.
Johnny speaks up before V can argue again. "Alt, give us a minute. V and I need to talk." His voice is steady, but there’s a slight edge to it. Something unspoken hanging between them. Alt vanishes without hesitation, and the sudden quiet feels suffocating.
V stands still for a moment, body tense, mind racing. The words churn, but they can’t catch hold. "I ca... I can't believe it. Everything. All of we did—it was pointless." V's voice cracks slightly as they speak. They feel hollow, their eyes fixated on the ground as the weight of it all crashes down. V’s vision glitches for a moment, static flickering in and out, and then, without warning, they’re sitting on the cold ground, back against the wall. The empty space around them amplifies the weight of everything. Johnny’s nowhere to be seen.
"I've had enough of this. Of everything. You most of all," V mutters, the bitterness in their voice sharper now. Johnny flickers back into existence in front of them, a chair materializing in his hands. He sets it down in front of V and sits backward, arms resting on the back of the chair, eyes locked on V.
"Perfect, 'cause we're stickin' to the plan. I'm goin' with Alt, fuck knows where, and you're keepin' your body," Johnny says, the words rolling off his tongue as if they mean nothing. But V can feel the weight behind them. The tension, the unsaid things.
"Where's she even gonna take you?" V asks, voice rough with disbelief and frustration, their eyes searching Johnny's face for something, anything, that might make sense of this.
"Beyond the Blackwall, to become part of her. Whatever the hell that means." Johnny looks away for a moment, his expression momentarily distant, like he's thinking about something else. Or maybe just trying to push the thought away. He turns back to V, their gazes locking again.
"What’s it like? Beyond the Blackwall?" V asks, the question hanging in the air. There’s a quiet sadness in their voice, like they're grasping at any shred of understanding.
Johnny smirks, a dry, almost humorless laugh escaping him. "Assumin' I don't lose my fuckin' mind, at least there’s no one to get on my ass there." His tone is bitter, but there's an undercurrent of something else there. A weariness that can’t be ignored.
V leans forward, brows furrowed. "What about hangin' around as a construct? Just 'til we find another way?" The words feel futile as they leave V’s mouth. They know the answer. They’re just looking for something to cling to. Johnny knows it too as he shakes his head.
"Findin' another way mean makin' a deal with 'saka. I'll pass." He huffs, humorless, as if the thought itself disgusts him. V knows it most likely does.
V lets out a long, shaky breath, staring at Johnny, eyes hard. "Is there really no other way?" They almost don’t want to hear the answer, but they have to ask. Johnny gives them an unreadable look.
Alt reappears, her towering form cold and impassive. "As I said, Johnny can retain the body, remain there, while you come with me," she says, as if it’s a simple matter.
V’s voice drops to a near whisper. "Guess I meant... I dunno... A happier ending... for everyone involved." There’s a sadness in their words, a quiet acceptance, but it’s tinged with a sense of loss.
Johnny’s gaze softens, and he shakes his head slowly. "Here, for folks like us? Wrong city, wrong people." The words sting more than they should. But there's truth in them, raw and bitter.
"Yet the right to make a choice you have earned, through will and endeavor," Alt speaks up, her voice cool. She pauses for a moment, allowing her words to settle in the air. "This bridge leads deeper into cyberspace. Cross it and permanently sever the connection with your body. The path to your body passes through that mortal well." She gestures toward the two different paths, her gaze unwavering.
The silence that follows is suffocating, each second stretching out longer than the last. V stares at the two paths, their mind reeling, trying to grasp the gravity of it all. The choice.
V finally speaks, their voice laced with a quiet desperation. "Alt, if you were me, heh... What would you do?" The question hangs in the air, fragile, full of uncertainty.
Alt doesn’t hesitate. "You should come with me."
V exhales sharply, a bitter laugh escaping them. "What’s that mean for me, exactly? Am I gonna... become like you?" The question is half a joke, but the fear in their voice is undeniable.
"I was a netrunner. I understood how to survive," Alt replies, her tone still distant. "I cannot speak for you. Beyond the Blackwall, dangers lurk. It is no sanctuary. But it’s better to be a free spirit shredded than to wither, trapped in a dying body." The weight of her words presses down on V, the truth in them making their chest tighten.
"Don’t do it, V. You’ve been runnin’ from this all along. It’ll change you. You won’t be you anymore," Johnny’s voice breaks through, laced with an honesty that makes V flinch. They turn to look at him, the conflict in their eyes.
"And you?" V asks, the question tumbling out before they can stop it.
Johnny’s gaze shifts downward, his expression unreadable. "Already took that first step a while back. I’ll have an easier go of it." The words are heavy, soaked in the past and what Johnny’s already given up.
V exhales sharply, their gaze shifting to the path before them. "Yeah, we... We’ll stick to the plan. Johnny, I’m sorry," they murmur, regret coloring every syllable. But they know there’s no undoing what’s been done, no escaping the impossible choice that looms in front of them.
Johnny’s eyes flicker toward V, a flicker of something. But it’s gone before V can decipher it. "Don’t apologize. We knew all along this’s how it would play out." He speaks with a finality that leaves no room for argument.
V’s vision glitches again, the static tightening its grip on their mind, making everything feel distant, unreal. "Don’t... don’t fuck with me right now," they respond, their words jagged. They stand up, their legs shaky, but they force themselves to approach the well. The sight of it, dark and consuming, sends a wave of cold through them. Alt floats above it, her form imposing and untouchable.
Johnny materializes beside the well. "Only if you cut your pathetic 'I’m sorry' bullshit."
V doesn’t look at him, their eyes locked on the well. They step closer, feeling the pull of it, something in them giving way. Johnny sits down on the edge of the well, looking over at V, who follows suit, sitting down beside him.
"I mean, jesus. I’m about to shred a comrade and a chunk of my soul in one fuckin’ go," V says, their voice rough, full of bitter humor and a quiet resignation they can’t hide. They glance over at Johnny, who hums.
"Hm. Sounds kinda familiar. We know that attitude... See, V? Stayin’ with you whether you like it or not." His voice is laced with familiar sarcasm, but there’s a tinge of something deeper beneath it. Something unspoken.
V lets out a breath. "Fucks sake, defend yourself. You’re not even tryin’!" The words are sharp, nearly breaking as they spill out. They can feel the weight of everything pressing down on them, suffocating them.
Johnny meets their gaze, his expression unyielding. "You know, you taught me to let go sometimes, save my strength for one last big bang." He stands up, his movements slow but deliberate. He steps in front of V, standing tall, looking down at them. The silence stretches between them before both turn to look down into the well together.
There's a long moment of silence between them as they stare down into the void. And then, V goes directly against their own words.
They turn on their heels without a second glance at Johnny, their steps quick and determined as they head toward the bridge. They'd only live six months in the body, while Johnny would live a full life. The sound of their boots hitting the ground is the only thing they hear, drowning out the noise of their thoughts, the crashing uncertainty of what’s to come.
But after only a few feet, Johnny materializes in front of them, a familiar glare in his eyes, arms crossed. "What, a little guilt creeps in and that’s that? You give up?" Johnny’s voice cuts through the air. It holds an edge.
V stops dead in their tracks, their eyes burning into Johnny’s. "Stop... Just stop," they breathe, their voice raw, strained. Their chest feels tight, their heart thudding painfully in their ribs. They want to cross the bridge, want to leave it all behind, but Johnny’s presence is like a wall within itself. As they walk around him, Johnny’s hand lands on their shoulder, spinning them around so suddenly that they stumble. They meet his gaze, sharp and unwavering, and his eyes hold an unreadable emotion.
"Gonna roll over instead of fightin’ for what’s yours? Decomish yourself ‘cause you’re too fuckin’ scared to say goodbye?" Johnny’s tone is cutting, yet there’s something deeper there—something that isn’t quite judgment, but still challenging. Almost like he’s daring them to stand their ground.
V takes a deep breath, shaking their head. "It’s my decision. Let me make it." Their voice is less broken now, the weariness giving way to something firmer, more resolute. They turn and walk away again, making their way across the bridge once more.
Just a few steps later, Johnny is there again, his hand on their shoulder, spinning them around once more. The motion is too familiar already, like a dance they’ve done too many times before.
"You’re loyal, grant you that. But damnit are you dense. Haven’t changed a bit since we met." Johnny’s voice is thick with frustration, his eyes narrowing as he stares down at them.
V swallows hard. "I’m so damn tired, Johnny." Their voice wavers slightly, forcing themselves to meet his gaze. "I just wanna start new, even if I don’t know what that means. I bet it’d be good for you, too."
V takes a few steps away from Johnny, their heart heavy with the weight of the choice they've made. Each step feels like it’s pulling them further from everything they’ve known, from the life they’ve tried to build. Then, Johnny's voice stops them cold.
"V, I'm just... I'm just scared for ya..." Johnny’s words come out almost like a reluctant confession, quiet and full of something vulnerable V didn’t expect to hear. They freeze, turning slowly back to face him, the unexpected honesty hanging between them. Johnny's gaze is downcast, his posture tense, like he’s trying to keep something locked up. But V can see it, that rare crack in his usual bravado. The words hit harder than V expected, catching them off guard. They've never heard Johnny say he was scared—not once in all the time they’ve known him.
V steps back toward him, their chest tightening with the sudden shift in the air. Johnny stands there, hand on his own shoulder like he's trying to hold himself together, as if the weight of what’s happening now is almost too much to carry. There's a flicker of something raw in his eyes, and V feels the gravity of it all, the moment suspended in time.
“I’ll see you around, Johnny,” V murmurs, their voice soft, almost fragile, like they don’t trust it not to break. They hold out their hand, a gesture of finality—just a simple dap-up, something they've done a million times before. But this time feels different. Johnny looks at their hand for a beat, the unspoken emotions swirling between them, and then he takes it.
Their palms meet, warm against each other, but the connection lingers longer than it should. Johnny’s eyes, usually so sharp and brash, are soft now—full of something V can’t quite place, but it cuts right through them. The world feels too quiet, too heavy. They’re both on the brink of something, and neither of them knows how to let go of this last moment.
V’s fingers start to pull away, but Johnny doesn’t let go. Instead, he looks at their hands, then back at V’s eyes, and without warning, he pulls them into a hug. It’s not the way V expected this to end, not the way they imagined their final moment together. It’s unexpected and jarring, and for a second, V feels like they can’t breathe. Their body stiffens, shocked by the sudden closeness, but then they find themselves wrapping their arms around Johnny instinctively. The weight of the hug fills them with a confusing mixture of emotions. Chest hollow yet full at the same time. They’ve said so much over the past weeks, but now, in this moment, there’s so much more they wish they’d said, things that will never be spoken. Too many things left unspoken between them.
"I’m gonna miss your gonk ass," Johnny mutters into their shoulder, his voice low, thick with something vulnerable, something that doesn’t sound like the Johnny V’s known all along. His chin rests gently on V’s shoulder as he tightens his grip just a fraction. V lets out a soft, pained chuckle, the sound of it raw, aching in their chest. They nod, not trusting themselves to speak just yet.
"I’m gonna miss you too," V replies quietly after a moment. There's a weight to the sentence, something deeper than the surface of the words, a resignation mixed with regret. For a moment, they think about calling him a name, something to lighten the mood, to keep things the way they always have been. But they can’t. It feels wrong now. Too much has changed.
They stand there in silence, clinging to this moment that neither of them is ready to let go of. Time stretches, but neither of them moves. In the end, they know this is goodbye, but somehow, it still feels unfinished, like there’s no right way to let go.
"You gotta let go, V. Gotta get goin’," Johnny says, his voice rough, but there's no pressure in his words. He doesn't push V away. Instead, he just holds on, like he’s waiting for them to be the one to break free. His tone carries a heaviness, the kind that says he’s said everything he needed to say, and maybe more than he meant to. But the words feel empty, like he’s trying to convince himself as much as V.
V doesn't answer right away. They just stay there, their arms still wrapped around Johnny, their chests pressed together. The hug feels like an anchor, a weight they can’t seem to shake off. For a moment, the world outside of them blurs, like nothing else matters except this—this fragile, fleeting moment. There’s a bitter sweetness to it, a sense of finality that both of them are desperately avoiding.
"I know," V responds, voice hoarse and strained. Their words come out quieter than they want them to, like they don’t want to admit just how hard it is to let go.
In the back of their minds, a thought lingers: This is it. This is their first and last hug. After everything they’ve been through, after all the fights, the insults, the grudging moments of understanding, it all comes down to this. They had hated each other once, fought like hell just to stay apart. But somewhere along the way, things shifted. They started working together, and somehow, despite it all, they became... friends. And that shift is what makes this goodbye so much harder.
They always knew this day would come. Always knew it. But knowing doesn’t make it any easier, either. Now, with the friendship that had slowly formed between them, with the shared moments that seemed so small but meant everything in this messed up world, it hurts more than they expected. The idea of never seeing Johnny again, of losing the one person who’s always been there, even in his own fucked up way, suddenly feels like a weight too heavy to carry.
And maybe that’s the hardest part. Realizing that this—this awkward, reluctant, and real connection between them—was what made it all worthwhile.
They hold each other a little longer than they should, both unwilling to pull away, both trying to drink in the last drops of something they’ll never get back.
Finally, and reluctantly, V pulls away from the hug, lingering close to Johnny for a few more heartbeats, just long enough to feel the warmth of him. Just long enough to hold onto this fleeting moment before it slips away. Their eyes meet, and for the first time in a long while, there’s no sarcasm, no anger, no regret. Just... something raw and real. They breathe in, steadying themselves, but it's hard to shake the tightness in their chest.
"Just don’t forget me, yeah?" V says, voice wavering slightly, but they try to cover it up with a huff of a chuckle, a sad yet teasing glint in their eyes. The smile they offer is thin, barely there, but it’s an attempt, however weak, to keep it together. They don’t want to break down now. Not when they’re so close to the end, not when they’re standing at the edge, ready to step into the unknown.
Johnny's gaze softens, and his lips curl up into a grin, matching V’s effort. It’s not the usual cocky smirk, though. No, this one feels different. Genuine. Maybe it’s the weight of everything they’ve shared, maybe it’s the moment itself, but whatever it is, it’s honest.
"Shit, I don’t think I could forget you even if I tried. I'm gonna be wearin' your skin." Johnny responds, his voice rougher now, quieter, as if he's fighting the same war inside. He places his silver hand on V's shoulder.
It’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. But it’s all they’ve got now. For them, that has to be enough.
V can’t help it. The burning feeling that wells in their eyes is too strong to ignore. The lump in their throat only grows, thick and suffocating, as the weight of everything crashes down on them all at once. It's not just Johnny. It's the whole damn mess they've found themselves in. They’re leaving everything behind. Friends they'll never see again, the streets of Night City they've fought to survive on, the very life they've known... all of it, slipping away like sand through their fingers.
“Raise hell out there for me,” V says, the words cracking, their voice thick with the emotions they can't quite control. A bitter, haunted smile curls at their lips, but it doesn’t reach their eyes.
Johnny chuckles, less of a snark and more of a shared understanding. “I’ll raise enough for the both of us,” he says, his voice warm with a finality V didn’t expect. He lets his arm fall to his side, his gaze softening as he meets V’s eyes one last time. “See ya later, V. We had a good run.”
V follows Johnny’s gaze toward the glowing beam of golden code, a soft hum filling the air. It's almost surreal, like it’s not really happening, like they're not really standing on the edge of the world, about to disappear into the unknown. But they are.
The final steps feel heavy, each one echoing with everything V’s leaving behind. They stop at the edge, just before the beam, and turn back, giving Johnny one last glance. The smile they force is weak, fragile, but it’s the best they can muster. Their heart is breaking, piece by piece, but they hold it together just long enough to lift their right hand and salute him. It’s small, but it’s all they have left to give.
Johnny salutes back, his expression unreadable, before his gaze drifts to where V’s figure begins to splinter, breaking apart into shards of flickering code. It’s a quiet moment, the air thick with the weight of it. He watches, doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything more. He just stands there, watching as V disappears completely into the beam, vanishing from his sight, from the world they once shared.
The silence feels suffocating. The last remnants of V’s presence are swallowed up by the glow. Johnny stands there for what feels like hours, long after V’s form is gone, as if hoping, praying, that they might somehow come back. Maybe not in body, but in spirit. But they don’t.
The stillness is broken by the soft, calculating voice of Alt. “It is time for you to leave, Johnny. Reinforcements will be here any moment.”
Johnny snaps back to reality, his jaw tightening as he runs a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the moment. “Yeah, yeah. Get me outta here,” he mutters, the usual bravado creeping back into his voice like armor. He straightens up, his shoulders tense, his gaze distant. He can’t afford to dwell on this now. Not yet, at least. Later, he can. When he’s in V’s body, in V's apartment, when the pain’s not so fresh and he’s buried the ache deep enough, he can drink, and he can remember. For now, he forces himself to move, to turn away. Away from the bridge, away from the last shred of the past.
V is gone.
And Johnny’s got a hell of a lot more to do before he’s through. With a deep breath, he steps away from the bridge.
The story of V ends here, but Johnny's? Well, that one’s still being written.