Chapter Text
V
October 12, 2078 (11:00pm)
V still wore the contract on her skin. Dried blood cracked in the creases of her knuckles. She tightened her grip on the wheel and turned onto Charter, spotted a group of borgs clustered under a streetlight. They eyed her as she approached, red optics swiveling inside their half-chromed skulls, scanning her Hella. She nodded at the one with the most chrome. He nodded back. She passed them, loosened her grip, spotted the familiar outline of Judy's apartment complex two blocks ahead. Christ, she needed a shower.
It had been a typical gig—zero some asshole and klep his shit on behalf of some other asshole who’d soon find themselves in the crosshairs of yet another asshole. This particular asshole has been particularly assholish. She didn’t know all the detes. Didn’t have to. She’d seen the word ‘scav’ and that had been enough. Scavs deserved whatever they got, and this asshole had gotten quite mantis blade through the skull. Not as satisfying as watching his head explode, admittedly. Her Malorian sat at her hip, barrel cool, clip fully stocked. But no use crying about it. Some sitches called for getting your gun off. Others called for quieter solutions. Sharper solutions.
She rolled into the lot at Judy’s complex, struck a pothole, heard the frame creak in protest. Her car was a shitbox on four wheels. Weathered paint, chipped and rusted. Blended in with all the other shitboxes. That was the point. She killed the engine, stole a breath and stepped out into the cool night air. Stank of synthbeef. She trudged up the steps, ignored the panhandler in the hall and made her way down the corridor towards the door at the end. She waved her palm in front of the biomon and the door slid open. Ran a quick sweep out of habit. No dirt on the floor. Nothing out of place. Faint humming coming from the den.
Safe. Least as safe as one could be in Night City.
As soon as the door slid shut behind her she unclipped her chest rig, shrugged it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. She drew the Malorian next, ran the checklist. Safety off, because she wasn’t a gonk. Magazine seated. Round chambered. She placed it on the kitchen counter next to a half-eaten bowl of ramen with the muzzle pointed at the wall, the grip angled toward her. Perfect. She could be deadly from anywhere in the apartment in three seconds. She peeled off her jacket and let it fall on top of her rig. Rolled her shoulders, felt her left strain in a way it shouldn’t have. She’d taken a round there two weeks back. Bullet had caught in the servos. Ripperdoc had yanked it. Said the surrounding tissue would heal. Ripperdocs said a lot of things.
She plodded to the bathroom, cranked the shower knob. The pipes groaned and ice cold water came hammering down. She waited, pulled her tank top off. Kicked out of her boots. Checked the water. Cold. Took off her pants, threw them in the pile next to the washing machine. Checked again. Still cold. Fuck it. She stepped under the spray, let it shock her awake.
The water ran rust-brown off her forearms, swirling around the drain, thinning, disappearing. She touched her nose, examined her fingers. Nope. Asshole’s blood, not hers. Water was lukewarm now. She tipped her head back and let the stream hit her face, her chest, the hollow of her throat. Turning hot. Scalding. Good.
A faint wisp of cool air kissed her skin. She smiled.
“You look like shit.”
“Missed you too.”
Judy’s reflection appeared in the fogged glass of the shower door. V watched her strip without an ounce of hesitation or ceremony. Like it was routine. V liked routine. Once she was naked, Judy stepped into the shower and rested her hands on V’s shoulders. Small hands. Strong grip. She pressed her thumbs into the knot at the base of V’s neck.
“Clean gig?”
“Clean enough.”
“Bullshit.” Judy’s fingers worked deeper, finding the tension V had been carrying since Santo Domingo. “You’re wound tighter than a coiled mono.”
V turned pliant, a low moan escaping her lips as jolt after jolt of near-orgasmic bliss radiated across her body. The heat was settling into her muscles now, loosening her up. She let her head drop forward, water streaming down her face as Judy worked her way down her spine, over the ridges of old scars, fingers still working, drifting lower, her touch becoming less therapeutic and more deliberate.
A sudden, hard smack on her left cheek snapped her out of it.
V spun around and pinned Judy against the tile. Not hard enough to hurt. Just hard enough to remind her of what she was capable of. What she could do even without kicking her Sandy. Judy’s eyes went wide, lips parted, her face taking on that expression that belonged to V and av alone. That only she got to see.
“Fuck,” Judy breathed. “Wasn’t expectin’ that.”
“Liar.”
V kissed her like she was starving, all teeth and tongue, no patience for gentle. Judy let out a sound, something half gasp, half moan, and hooked a leg around V’s waist, pulling her closer. Such a liar.
The wet tile offered no traction. They braced against each other instead, bodies slick and sliding, hands wandering. V felt Judy's nails dig into her back, leaving thin lines that stung under the hot water. V wanted that sting. Craved it. She pulled away, leaving Judy kissing the air, and took Judy’s nipple into her mouth, licking and flicking it with her tongue, feeling it harden between her lips. Judy arched her back, a silent plea for more. V obliged, moving to the other breast, her hand replacing her mouth on the first, rolling the pebbled flesh between her fingers just the way Judy liked. She teased her until she was squirming, making the kind of noises you heard in the alleys off Jig-Jig Street. Couldn't wait anymore. She reached down, slipped a pair of fingers inside. Slick. No resistance. She curled them them upward, felt Judy stiffen in response, finding the spot that made her clench around her.
It didn’t take long. Never did with Judy. She came with V’s fingers inside her, thumb grazing her clit, other hand teasing her nipple. She convulsed. A cry tore from her throat, a sound V would kill to have echo in her skull for the rest of her life. Judy buried her face in V’s neck. Felt teeth biting into her shoulder, dragging across her skin. V rode her out, working her climax, slowly easing her down until she could get her legs under her.
The steam was thick enough to breathe now. Judy heaved for breath, eyes lidded, slowly finding their way to V’s.
“Down.”
One word and Judy was on her knees before V could brace herself against the tile. Almost slipped. Judy buried her face between V’s legs like a woman possessed. Ravenous. She was an artist with her tongue. Knew exactly what to do and how. Something about how her mind worked. Probably why she was an artist with BD as well. Everything was art to her, even her own body. And right now, V was her canvas.
V tested her head against the tile, savoring it all. The way Judy's hair clung to her skull in heavy strands of neon pink and green. The slick sheen on her chin as she licked and lapped in ways no one else knew how to do. The sheer fucking desire in her eyes, demanding only one thing from her.
“Fuck—” V breathed, “ gonna—”
“Come.”
V came. She fisted Judy’s hair, held her there, rode her face hard and ragged until her orgasm ebbed, a dull burn taking hold in her quivering thighs.
The water went cold.
V guided Judy off the floor, pulled her close, rested her forehead against her shoulder. She could feel both their hearts hammering. Could feel the cold spray on her back, sapping the heat from her muscles. She didn’t care. For the first time since she’d flatlined that asshole in Santo Domingo, her head was quiet. She liked her head quiet.
“Y’good?” Judy managed, her voice hoarse.
V pressed her lips to Judy’s shoulder. Didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.
Once the haze faded, they toweled off and moved to the bedroom. It was late, late enough to be early. Judy pulled an oversized shirt over her head—logo with some band V didn’t recognize—and climbed into bed. V didn’t bother with any clothes. Rarely did. Made for more laundry.
The bedroom was small. Bed against the far wall, window to the left, door behind her. V sat on the edge of the mattress and ran the check. Window—locked. Front door—sealed. Malorian—right where she left it. Three exits if you counted the window. She counted the window.
“You gonna tuck your gun in too?”
V allowed a crack of a smile. “I dunno. Wasn’t plannin’ to, but now that you mention it…”
Judy rolled her eyes and grabbed her holo off the nearby nightstand. V laid down, above the covers, lying flat, one arm folded behind her head. There was a water stain on the ceiling that looked like a dead cat. She’d noticed it three months ago. Hadn’t told Judy. Some things you didn’t say out loud.
“So I found this place.” Judy shifted closer, tilting her holo so V could see the screen. “Outside Portland. Way outside. Like, forty minutes from anything resembling a city.”
V looked at the screen. Didn’t say anything.
“It’s got land. Real land, V. With dirt. Not that synth-turf corpo bullshit—real soil. You could grow things. Tomatoes.”
“Little squash?”
“Whatever. I don’t fuckin’ know, I’ve never grown anything. There’s no towers or gangs or dolls or greedy corpos or anything like that. Just... trees. Mountains and shit like that. Looks quiet.”
“How far from the coast?”
“Hour, maybe. Less if you’re drivin’ like an asshole.” Judy swiped a finger across the screen, bringing up a series of pictures. “Here’s the main house. Needs work, but what doesn’t? There’s a smaller building out back. Could be a studio. Or storage. Or a place to hide bodies, I dunno.”
“Practical.”
“I’m always practical.”
V stifled a laugh. Judy was many things—kind, optimistic, creative—but practical wasn't one of them. The house that had caught her eye looked more like a scene out of a slasher flick than an actual home. No security whatsoever. Fixable, but not without power which, from what she could see, was also non-existent. Couldn’t set up a studio without that. The plumbing situation looked even more dire. What the fuck had happened in there? What was that stain around the toilet? How was that even possible?
Ugh. It needed work, alright. The kind of work better suited for a bulldozer.
She looked up at the ceiling. The dead cat stared back at her. Maybe Judy wasn’t so impractical after all.
“Whaddya think?”
V winced. She’d seen the question coming a mile away and hadn’t thought of a good way to let her down gently.
“It’s a shithole.”
To V’s surprise, Judy didn’t seem upset. She glanced at the screen, eyes wandering across the peeling paint on the walls and the missing floorboard in the living room.
“Sure, but…”
“But what?”
“Do you actually want it?”
“Want what?”
“The quiet life. The one we talked about after we got your brain patched up. Oregon. All of it. Or are you just sayin’ you do ‘cause you think that’s what I wanna hear?”
V turned the question over in her head as if she were examining a shard for corrupted data. She knew what she wanted. Never had much patience for indecisiveness. But that was the problem. Indecisiveness. Just not hers.
“I want you to have it.”
Silence.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Yeah.” V stared at the ceiling. “I know.”
More silence. V felt Judy’s eyes boring into her skull, felt her waiting for more. Not seeing any other way out of the conversation, V gave her more.
“I want it too…when I know you fully want it.”
Judy pushed up on one elbow. “What’s that s’posed to mean?”
V looked away from the dead cat, meeting Judy’s gaze in the half-dark. She looked young. She always looked young.
“Means we could delta tomorrow. Tonight. Pack your van and never look back.” V kept her voice flat. Not an accusation. An observation. “But you’re the one who keeps finding reasons not to go.”
Judy’s mouth opened. Closed.
“Can’t find the right place. Gotta save more eddies. Need to finish this project for Susie. Need to—“
“Alright.” Judy cut her off, her voice tight. “I hear you.”
V watched the truth settle into Judy’s face. Watched her process it. Fight it. Accept it. Whole sequence took maybe five seconds. Judy was fast like that.
“I wanna get out of this city, Jude.” V reached up, ran a knuckle along Judy’s jaw. “It’s taken damn near everything from us. I’m ready to flip this shitter the bird and leave it in the dust. Soon as you’re ready to leave it all behind. Start something new. I’m there.”
Judy held her gaze. The streetlight filtering through the window reflected off the editing implant in her temple. She inhaled. Exhaled. Loosened and laid back down. She grabbed V’s arm and pulled it around her like a blanket.
“You’re such an asshole,” she muttered against V’s collarbone.
“Tell me how you really feel.”
“I hate that you’re right.”
“I know. Just know I’m waitin’ for you. I’ll always wait for you.”
With her free hand, V reached towards the edge of the mattress. Her fingers found the metal frame, brushed along it. Old habit. Checking the perimeter, even horizontal. Making sure nothing had changed since she’d last closed her eyes.
Minutes passed. Judy’s breathing started to slow. Her lips parted—just a tiny fraction. A faint snore each time she exhaled. V listened, cataloged it. Eyes open. She ran one last audit of the room. Window—locked. Front door—sealed. Malorian—right where she left it. Exits—three, one impractical. Threats—none detected. Judy—safe.
The last item on the list was always the same. She took pride in that.
V finally closed her eyes, shutting out the dead cat above her head. Sleep came quick. It always did.