#i hope its not disingenuous to tag johnny when he hasn't shown up yet
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Can You Feel The Sun? (Chapter Two): Here In Night City
Notes: This one has been done for a while, I’ve been pretty busy and overwhelmed with school for a while, but I’ve been having some fun silverv shenanigans on my personal account and I figured it was time to post it. I’m not sure how I feel about it? It went through some heavy edits, so there might be some typos and issues with that, and writing a montage...is new territory for me...
Word Count: 14799
Chapter Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Casual Discussion of Suicide (its fairly common in Night City according to lore), Talks of Sex but nothing explicit
If you haven’t yet, you can read the first chapter here.
V fiddles with the frayed edges of her hoodie, following behind Jackie. The night air chills her skin as they walk. It's not far from the bar where he stops a building, among the shorter cluster of buildings in Heywood, in no way stretching up into the heaven like many of the buildings in Night City. Jackie has no hesitation, taking the steps two at a time and swinging the front door open. She moves to take her mask off, not wanting to risk creeping his mom out, though her bruises and blood matted hair won’t do her any favors.
“Ma! I brought a friend home!” He yells out, like they’re kids asking to have a sleepover and V finds herself smiling. V bounces slightly on the balls of her feet, looking around the living room, the little collections of knick knacks, little calavera skulls. The couch covered in blankets and the warm little cozy touches within the home.
“Jaquito!” A woman’s accented voice rings out, Jackie’s mom coming into the living room, “where the hell have you been!? I’ve been worried sick!”
Jackie’s mom is a woman somewhere in her fifties, if V had to wager a guess, with gray hair that falls down past her shoulders and blue eyes. There’s a softness to her as she looks at her son, something inherently maternal to her gaze. There’s wrinkled lines of worry around her eyes.
“Ay, I told you Mama, it was just biz. Nothing to worry about,” Jackie waves off his mother’s concerns.
“And your friend?” The older woman’s eyes land on her, she looks down finding a spot on the floor to focus on.
“Ma, this is V.”
Jackie turns to introduce her and V starts to look up, then his green eyes widen for a moment. It’s the first time he’s seen her without the mask, she’s realized, and she finds herself hyperaware of her features, worrying about how they’re being viewed. Her hands fidget and nerves flush her face. She’s not even this anxious when a hookup sees her face for the first time. The idea of a potential bedmate rejecting her is nothing compared to this visceral fear that her new friend and his mother not approving of her .
“Hi,” she signs, slightly stilted in her movements, feeling as if she might combust.
Her already awkward gestures completely freeze when she feels Senora Welles cups her cheek, fingers rubbing over the purple bruises on V’s skin. The touch is kind and warm, stirring up memories of V’s own mother. Memories of being a child returning to camp after hours of scavenging through a landfill or exploring the new land just for her mother to come look over her for every bruise or mark she may have collected.
“My Jackie drag you into one of his messes?” Senora Welles asks before V can go further down the slippery nostalgia slope. Fingers brush across the blood in the back of V’s hair, the worry etching the older woman’s expression only grows. The intensity makes the former nomad look at the ground, unable to maintain eye contact.
“It was a client, mama,” Jackie answers for V, “First night in NC spent bleeding out in a dumpster, second will be spent on the street unle-”
“Say no more. I’ll get you some clean clothes, you can use our shower, and we’ll get some food in your belly, alright?”
“Alright, thank you, so much,” V signs as Senora Welles pulls away. She doesn’t know what she did to deserve their kindness, but she’s thankful for it, nonetheless.
She’s given a black t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants once Senora Welles has shown her to the bathroom. It’s modest with a tile floor, stickers on the mirror and sugar skulls beside it. V catches sight of herself in the mirror and blinks at what’s looking back at her, she understands Jackie and his mother’s reaction now. While she suspected and felt what she may look like. But her reflection staring back at her confirms it. Purples, blues, and greens scatter across her face like galaxies over her skin. Her eyeliner has smeared and smudged around her eyes. Her hair is in tangles, darkening red flecks of blood staining the bleached blonde and dark brown of her roots where it sticks to her scalp the ponytail she tied it back in is now knots. She needs a cut and a touch up. But bleach may have to wait, when she tries to brush it out, it hurts, pulling at the not quite healed wound on her scalp and bringing fresh blood to the surface. She does the best she can for now before deciding it’s enough.
V triple checks the lock on the door, not out of distrust for the Welles, but her own paranoia and habit. Then she strips out of her clothes and takes out her hearing aids, stashing them in the medicine cabinet in hopes of protecting them from steam. She rubs at the reddened skin of her ears. She knows they’re necessary, but they chap and rub her ears raw after too long. There’s cream she has for it, that’s in her duffle bag, that was in her Rattler. She pouts at the realization before she turns on the hot water, stepping under it’s spray.
The hot water is a welcomed relief to her aching muscles, as she washes away the grime, she starts to feel human again. She scrubs the blood and mess from her hair, careful of her still tender scalp as she washes away the mess that was her first day in Night City.
V dries off and slots her hearing aids back in, they seem to still be dry. She throws on the clothes she was given. The shirt hangs off her shoulders and the hem hits at her knees, she gets the idea the shirt may be Jackie’s. She’s less sure of the sweatpants, they do sag on her hips and the legs go well over her feet, but with enough tightening of the drawstring they manage to stay up. Baggy, soft, and warm. If not for the still steady pain in her temples and the cramping of her empty belly, she could curl up to sleep. Her hair is still in absolute knots, so she ops for putting it up in a bun to save for a time in which she can handle combing through it. Then finally she leaves the bathroom, peeking around the corner.
“Chica, in here!” Jackie’s voice booms and calls her into the kitchen.
She pads her way in there, Senora Welles and Jackie are gathered around a table in the kitchen. He’s thrown off his jacket, showing the muscle shirt he wore beneath it. And despite having seen him all night, she truly feels like she’s seeing him fully now in the cozy lighting of the kitchen. Freckled skin, biceps the size of her head, a black and red tattoo on his wrist and forearm that’s cut off by a gold bracelet. The light catches off the cyberware across the bridge of his nose and cheeks. He grins widely as his mother fills a bowl with chili, the grown man shoveling it in his mouth without waiting for it to cool, like an overexcited child.
“Over here, mija, take a seat and a bowl,” Senora Welles beckons her over.
V climbs up into a seat, awkwardly tucking a strand of hair back behind her ear. Senora Welles fills a bowl to the top with chilli for her; the smell of the tomato, synth beef, and veggies making her stomach growl. She’s torn between gratefulness and feeling a bit like a mangy dog Jackie dragged in. It’s fine line between kindness and pity, she can only hope it’s the former rather than the latter.
“Thank you, so much.”
The second she’s done signing another thanks, she’s shoving chili into her mouth and its so good. Perfectly cooked and with a hint of spice. She nearly inhales the rest of her bowl, barely coming up for air as she gobbles it up. A second bowl goes by just as quickly, she’s pretty sure Jackie’s on her third by the time she grabs the second. She’s slowing down by her third, her stomach not quite bursting, and she’s willing to push it just to keep eating.
“Aye, you’re as bad as Jaquito,” Senora Welles teases, smiling as she calmly eats her own food.
“Sorry, its just really good…” V signs with one hand, still eating with her other.
“Told you my ma made the best chili.”
“Hey, what did I say about talking with your mouth full, Jackie!” His mother scolds him.
“V did it first.”
“I don’t talk!”
“See, she did it again!” Jackie teases when she signs again. V swallows her mouthful of chili and sticks her tongue out at Jackie. The joking around has eased some of the tension for V, Jackie still treating her like a new friend and not some sad sack he’s trying to help.
“So, V,” Senora Welles says after a few moments, “where are you from?”
“All of the everywhere, I think I was born in North Carolina? Maybe?”
“You’re a nomad?”
V chews her lip, the media talk about nomads is far from good, usually painted as asshole outlaws. Corps don’t like them. Corps own the media. So they make sure the media tells everyone that nomads are the violent assholes who refuse to fall in line, refused to sell their land, and then ran away to ruin everyone’s life when they lost the battle. Not that it stops them from lining a nomad’s pocket when they need work done. Which, granted, her own nomad family are…violent assholes and criminals, but that doesn’t mean they all are. And she doesn’t want to be painted with that same brush. And there are good solid nomad families out there, she’s met more than a few in Bakkers, Aldecaldos, and Red Ochre Clan; to name just a handful.
“Formerly, yeah, was hoping to make a new life here.”
“Your nomad family ain’t waiting for you?”
“Uh, no, just…no.”
Tears prick at the back of V’s eyes, threatening to shed as she thinks of her mom, put down in a med tent. The first time her father held a captive bolt pistol to the base of her skull, ready to kill her for her newfound disability. The way everything seemed to change when she lost her hearing. Her sister hunting her down like a dog, not caring who she has to shake down, what she has to burn to the ground; just to kill her on the order of their father. She bites down harshly on her lower lip, she doesn’t want to think about it.
Then there’s an arm wrapping around her shoulders, Senora Welles having stood up at some point, and now gently tucking V’s head under her chin. A gentle one-armed hug, not tight or all-encompassing but warm and kind, without pushing her.
“No worries, mija,” the older woman speaks against V’s skin, “you can stay here as long as you need.”
“Thank you, that means a lot,” V’s not sure if at the angle, Senora Welles eyes can translate her signing, but she squeezes the older woman’s hand, hoping it can be communicated through touch if nothing else. Appreciative as she is, there’s a small pit in her stomach, she’s already becoming a burden to someone new.
A moment passes and then Senora Welles gives a soft kiss to the top of her head before taking away the dirty dishes. V starts to gather it as well, she’s eating their food and staying in their house, the least she can do. If she’s going to impose for any length of time, she needs to make herself worthwhile to have around, to some degree.
“No, no, no, V. You’re a guest, go on and get settled in,” Senora Welles stops her before she can help any further.
“Uh-“
“C’mon, jaina,” Jackie gives a quick pat to her shoulder, “I’ll show you where you can sleep tonight.”
She gets up from her seat, feet padding up the stairs after Jackie. He barely fits between the banisters, his wide muscular frame completely blocking her view as they move through the house. He takes her up to a bedroom, its not particularly big, and she can’t help but think he’s had it since he was a child. There’s fitness posters on the wall, weights that she imagines Jackie could juggle if he wanted, a vanity with a rosary, but it’s what stacked on top of one of the desks that catches her eye.
Two desks are flush against one of the walls, one with a large aquarium balanced on it. Vivid blue and white fluorescent lights illuminating the water. Only one fish swims through it, gray with a fin, like a mini shark. V can’t help the noise of excitement she makes as she bounces on the balls of her feet over to the tank, sitting in the chair at the desk. She wants a better look at this beautiful baby.
“V, meet Taco,” Jackie introduces her to the dwarf shark.
“I’d die for him,” she signs, with zero hesitation.
“I wouldn’t recommend it.”
“Heh,” she giggles at his response, “must have cost you an arm and a leg.”
“Think I bought him?”
V’s nose wrinkles as she laughs, hands forming words, “forbidden shark.”
V taps against the aquarium glass, getting Taco’s attention, she drags her finger back and forth across the glass watching the large fish chase her finger. Taco twirls and twists, trying to nibble at her finger through the glass.
“So, what happens tomorrow?” Jackie asks, bed creaking under his weight.
She turns in the chair, resting her arms and chin across the back of it as she shifts to face him. Jackie has sat down on the bed tucked into a cubby against a wall. Can he even fit on that bed? She’s still not even sure who’s sleeping where tonight, she has no intention of stealing the man’s bed, if anything she wishes you could buy him a bigger one to more comfortably fit him.
“Tomorrow? Gonna get my shit back, hopefully turn a quick profit off the cargo, and get myself a place. I don’t plan on making a nuisance out of myself, I promise.”
She’s thankful for the hospitality and as much as she maybe shouldn’t, she’ll take advantage for the night. But, she has no intention of leeching off of their kindness. They may be opening their door to her, but no one wants a mooch. She’s an adult and needs to take care of herself.
“Pfft, you ain’t no fucking nuisance, my ma’s probably just happy to have someone who’ll help with the dishes.”
“I don’t wan-“ she shifts gears mid-sentence, “you don’t help your mom with the dishes?”
“Eh, ya know,” he makes a vague wiggly hand gesture and scrunches his face up “it’s gross…” He shrugs.
“Of course it’s gross, you dummy! She cooks for you for god’s sake, the least you can do is help clean up!”
“I’m busy, okay!”
“Unbelievable.”
“Look,” he laughs, “ that, this was not the point, Chica. So, before you climb up my ass again… Lemme ask, what about the day after tomorrow? Day after that… you ice Sinclaire and then what? ”
“Hmmm,” she hums, tapping her fingers against the chair before signing, “I hate to disappoint but I haven’t come up with any grand plan since the last time you asked. ’
“Figured as much, you ever do any merc work before this?”
“Little things, smuggling jobs here and there, stayed out of cities so pickings were slim. You been doing it long?”
“Most of my life; work for yourself, live for yourself. Only way there is, if you ask me.”
“Probably be the easiest way to make eddies after I square away this cargo thing,” she admits, she never really put it into thoughts, but she always sort of assumed that’s where she’d end up once she landed in the city. The only other alternative would be some entry level job waiting tables or something and that might even be a pipe dream if they expect her to have cyberware or something resembling a formal education.
“Already got a fixer who likes you,” Jackie tells her, “and not to brag, but with me as your partner you’ll be getting preem jobs right out the gate.”
“Oh, so we’re partners now?”
“Don’t see why not, already know we work well together, I could use an extra pair of hands and you could use really any help you can get, and… ” he pauses for a moment, finding his words, “I just got a good feeling about this, ‘bout us.”
“A feeling?”
“Yeah, that the two of us could make to the top.”
She’s trying not to laugh as she sees excitement fill his eyes, like a child on Christmas. It’s not as if merc work is new territory to her, she’s taken odd jobs in the Badlands. But, it is sparser than in the city and mostly smuggling. She can’t exactly proclaim it’s her dream job or what she wants to do forever, but she can’t think of a damn thing else she’d like to do. Death has been nipping at her heels since she was nine years old, she hasn’t thought far ahead, hasn’t felt she had any right to.
And, she can’t really say she gives a fuck about making it to the top. Riches, fame, notoriety, being a legend. She couldn’t care less. She just wants to be in control of her own life, to feel like she has no restraints, and to build a life that has meaning to her. To be the person she wants to be, even though she isn’t quite sure who that is yet… She’s twenty, twenty-one this year, and she never even thought she’d get that far. Its hard to really expect her to know exactly who she is or what she wants.
But… could she really even get that far? Jackie seems convinced, but could she be capable of that? Is she strong enough? Competent enough?
“I’m talking the major leagues, V. The top of the top, the mercs who get the best jobs, are swimming in eddies; Night City legends.”
“That what you want?”
“More than anything. Raised in shit, told I’d never climb out, but I’m gonna prove ‘em wrong. Don’t you want to? Show every son of a bitch who put you down, looked down their nose at you, that they didn’t know shit?”
Her father and his words come flooding to her mind; told she’s weak, worthless, defective, not worth the lead to blow her brains out. And yeah, she’d love to prove him wrong. To be strong and show she’s capable. To know she can take care of herself, that she doesn’t need anyone else to be okay. She’d love to prove to the people who told her she needed to get her hearing “fixed”, that she’s not fucking broken. Even now, people like Sinclaire take one look at her and see her as gutter trash. She wants respect, the security that comes with it, not notoriety. Proving her strength, her capability, her worth by taking any job that comes her way is more than a little enticing, it’d earn her that respect both from others.
But more importantly, she’d like to prove that to herself. To know in her heart she really isn’t any of those things. That she isn’t a burden. To prove to herself that she’s capable of more than being a burden, more than meandering along to her father’s orders. For once she’d like for others not to look at her like cockroach and more importantly to be able to look at herself and see more than a waste of space. To finally feel right in her own skin, take that voice of doubt that keeps asking her if she’s enough, and crush it.
She could give a fuck less who knows her name, hell she prefers no one ever does. Its not the notoriety or fame. V greatly prefers being unknowable, between the mask and alias she’s a few blurry photos away from going full cryptid. And she likes that. If she keeps the mask on for business, keep work and personal separate with it, she could keep her privacy. Keep skeletons in her closet from coming back to bite her...
For so long she was told she was weak by The Herd. Weak for her disability. Weak for accepting her mother’s protection.
An outcasts among outcasts, thats what the sheriff said, and he didn’t know the half of it. Nomads the outcasts of regular society, raffen shiv the outcasts of the nomads, and her an outcast among the raffen shiv. An outcast from the outcasts of the outcasts. So unwanted by the world and even her own fucking body. There has never in twenty years been a place for her in this world. But maybe she’s finally found it, working her ass off with Jackie and showing Night City just what she can do.
“Lets do it,” she decides, she wants this, not to be famous or major leagues but to be untouchable, to prove a point, to take control of her life, to be more than anyone thought she could be, and to like what she sees when she looks in the mirror.
“Fuck yeah,” he shifts to face her fully, catching her hand in shake, his large fingers blanketing her smaller ones, “this is the start of a beautiful thing, I just know it.”
That night, Jackie sleeps on the couch in the living room, despite V’s constant insistence that she’ doesn’t want to take over his bed; his stubbornness wins out. And as he leaves to the living room she’s left with the weight of loneliness, of trying to sleep without the warmth of another beside her. It’s a dumb issue to have, keeping the world at arm’s length and keeping her walls up at all times, but needing a hug to sleep. Years of safety in numbers being beat into her head, sleeping alone feels like baring her throat for the wolves and expecting herself to find peace.
As odd, creepy, weird as it may be V takes advantage of the benefit that sleeping in Jackie’s clothes and bed has for her. Burying her nose in the pillows and blankets that smell like him, smell like another person, trying to convince her senses she’s not alone. Letting the smell of cheap cologne and some oil she can’t quite place soothe her. It used to be a band tee she stole from Ava, before…everything, though the scent has steadily faded over time, its still a source of comfort. And it was in her bag…in her car. Who knows if she’ll find it again…
Then there’s her pictures and the old polaroid camera she fixed up to take them. A little treasure she found rummages through a landfill out towards Oregon. Photos of her sister, her mother, and Ava; of her life before she had to run. Back when she still thought that a family that doesn’t want you was worth having… Pictures from her time on the road; her and Sabrina, the sweet group of Bakkers who sold her the Rattler, and just any place, sight, or person that managed to make her day or make a few days. Loneliness colored a lot of that time, but she made her memories, people she’s sure forgot her when she left but whom she’ll never forget.
Her mom’s guitar… the one thing she went back for the night she left, doubling back and breaking into her father’s tent for it when she realized she had left. Stepping into the lion’s den just to have it, she can’t play, she gave up on learning when her hearing went. But those early memories of sitting in her mother’s lap at camp with the guitar in her hands, small fingers callusing as they plucked at the strings….
And all of those could be gone. Every memory and memento could be gone for good because of one asshole. She digs her nails into her scalp and knots her hair, anger and anxiety pitting in her stomach, bleeding into each other.
She burrows into the blankets and pillows, trying to prevent her thoughts from wandering, though it’s fighting an uphill battle, trying to think of the name of every star she knows in alphabetical order if only to bore her brain into sleep rather than letting it race in circles. She’s somewhere between Meissa and Merga when she finally falls asleep.
And she awakes in the dead of night; chest tight and lungs struggling to get a deep breath of air. No nightmare this time, but a sense of panic and dread pumping adrenaline into her blood, making her heart race as she jumps out of Jackie’s bed. She checks the door, she locked it before she went to bed, she needs doors locked. And she knows she did, but she needs to check it. She locks and unlocks it, no windows to check, so her focus is only on the door. And she does that until the tightness in her chest ease, until she can breathe a little easier, locking it for the last time before walking away from the door. Security, safety, a paranoia that tells her to never feel safe. That the world has always wanted her gone and one day death will knock at her door for the last time.
Her body feels heavy as she wanders to Taco’s tank, the shark swimming in circles, V’s face bathed in the blue light from it. There’s still a shake in her hands, but her limbs are leaden as she sits down at the desk. She watches him swim and swish around for a few moments, sprinkling some of his food into the tank to watch him eat.
“Really wish I could hold you, right now.”
She speaks it out loud, softly to the swimming shark, needing to put her thoughts into the world but hands too shaky to sign worth a damn. Though they still ache and twitch to do so. After a few more moments of watching the mini shark swim, she crawls back into bed to sleep for the rest of the night. Thankful, that she doesn’t wake until morning.
The newly appointed merc is dragging when she wakes, as always due to her lackluster sleeping patterns. To make matters worse, her eyes are red and itchy, sensitive even in the light of the house. A flare up, autoimmune disease coming back to kick her ass for stressing and not sleeping. Her joints ache, swollen, as she groggily stumbles her way from Jackie’s bedroom, when a sweet smell hits her nose, stomach growling. She
Senora Welles and Jackie are at the table, she made breakfast of course, because she’s entirely too nice. On the table is a spread of french toast with cinnamon whip cream on top. Jackie already has a stack nearly as tall as V on his plate, half eaten.
Jackie yells out something, his mouth full, and she realizes the world is still quiet as his mother scolds him. Her eyes are too irritated and her mind too groggy for her to be able to competently read lips. She holds up a finger, asking them to wait a moment, and doubles back to Jackie’s bedroom. She grabs her hearing aids and contemplates grabbing her mask, just so it can translate for her.
Optic translations are pretty advanced for sign language, but they have limitations. Like people needing to look at the signer the entire time and name signs being essentially untranslatable since they’re personal to the signer. But she wants to eat and having to hold up her mask everytime she wants to talk is a pain. She turns on her hearing aids and leaves the mask behind, hopefully Jackie and Senora Welles will look at her if she has to say anything or she’ll just stay silent as she stuffs her face. Jackie raises an eyebrow at her when she comes back to the kitchen.
“Forgot my ears,” she signs, tapping her hearing aid, and flinching when it gives a bit of feedback in reaction.
“Ahh, well come sit your ass down, ma made tres leche french toast.”
“Thank you,” she signs to Senora Welles who gives her a soft smile.
“Something up with your optics, jaina? Looking red.”
“I don’t have optic implants,” she signs before pouring herself a cup of coffee.
“Really? Guess that’d be why you don’t got lipreading tech and explain why they look like you rubbed peppers in them.”
“That’s just a flare up.”
“Flare up?” Senora Welles asks, concern darkening her expression.
“Autoimmune disease, some days my body hates me more than others.”
“That what happen to your…?” Jackie taps his ear, rather than say it outright.
She nods, it attacked the inner ear most aggressively, completely destroying her hearing by nine. According to the clan doctor, all the times she complained about her ears hurting, dizziness, and ringing in her ears it’s because her immune system was aggressively attacking them. But, she was only ever told to walk it off, until inevitably the world went silent. It still flares up, deciding it doesn’t like the rest of her either. Her eyes are what worry her the most but what can she really do.
“There ain’t anything that can help with that.”
“Uh, heard medications can, but haven’t been to a doc since I was sixteen and I ain’t looking to break my streak,” she signs, unable to help the way she scrunches her nose.
She hates doctors. Her last experience with the clan doctor ensured she never wanted to deal with another, not to mention how many times she’s been told to pop by a ripper and just “fix” her hearing.
“Hmm, you got any chrome, V?”
“Nope.” she signs.
“Seriously, nothing?”
“Not even a personal link.” She shows the palms of her hands and wrists, thankful the sleeves of the sweatshirt lent to her cover the brand on her wrist.
“Hate to break it to you, V, but you're gonna need some chrome. Personal link, neural port, bare fuckin’ minimum if you wanna get by in Night City.”
She doesn’t answer, just pouting as she pours sugar and milk into her coffee, until there’s barely a hint of brown coloring. She isn’t against cyberware inherently and everyone’s choice is their own, but whether it’s the years of being told they’re cheap tools to make the weak feel strong or just her own discomfort with everything it entails, the whole thing makes her skin crawl. V already hates doctors and would rather dose up on bounce backs if she has to. She can stitch her own wounds, has before, whatever it takes to avoid them.
Add in the fact most cyberware is made and licensed by corps, no. Sure, black alley shit exists, but just the idea of a corp having the right to her eyes. What if they revoke someone’s usage of them, spy through them, confiscate them?
“Once your two finish your business, take her to Viktor,” Senora Welles tells Jackie, before turning to look at V, “he’s a good man, I’d trust to take care of anyone, mija. I’m sure he can help with whatever you need.”
“Okay, if he has your seal of approval, suppose I gotta at least see him.” V concedes, Senora Welles seems convinced this guy is good. Even if V decides to just try to go without, everything, it can’t hurt just to meet the guy.
“Vik’s one of my closest friends, he’ll take care of you, promise. Though, uh, keep taking your coffee like that, he might have his work cut out for him.”
“I like sweets,” she signs, shrugging before taking a drink of her coffee and another big bite of french toast. They’re incredible, cinnamon whip cream sticking to her lips.
“You might as well inhale sugar.”
“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t.”
They finish up the breakfast, V stuffed with a good three or more stacks of french toast. Senora Welles begins to collect the dishes. And no, V’s not letting this happen again.
“We’ll do dishes,” she signs, starting to collect the plates.
“We?”
“No, no, you don’t have to, dear.”
“I insist please, you cooked, it’s only right for us to clean up afterwards,” she signs with one hand then looks to Jackie, “right?”
“Right… we’ll take care of it ma.”
“Thank you, Mija,” Senora Welles squeezes her shoulder, “I washed your clothes last night, I’ll leave them in the bathroom, once you two finish with the dishes you can wash up and get changed.”
“Thank you,” V signs again before taking the dishes to the sink with Jackie.
“One night here and you’re already the favorite, Jesucristo.”
V can’t resist giggling at the comment, smile on her face. They don’t talk much as they wash dishes, mostly because she can’t sign and clean at the same time. It doesn’t take long before they’ve finished up. V going to shower and change, then they’ll head to the chop shop Padre mentioned. Then it’s time to end Sinclaire.
“You ready to go, V?” Jackie asks when she comes back changed, mask with her for when she’ll need it.
“Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Me and V are headed out, Ma! Be back in time for dinner, promise!”
The pair leave the house and make their way down the steps. The streets are jam packed with people and she’s still not used to the crowd, cringing as she has to weave through them. Jackie doesn’t have a car and her’s is indisposed wherever it is. She nearly trips over a bag of trash trying to keep up with her new partner. Why is the city so dirty? V never even let the camp site get this filthy and these city people just toss their trash out on the street?
“C’mon, we’ll take the train down to the chop shop, see if they got your car first,” Jackie’s voice cuts her off because she can start trying to clean the street.
“I still don’t have any-”
“I’ll pay for us both.”
“Sorry and thanks”
“How many times have you said sorry or thanks since we met?” Jackie asks.
“I wasn’t counting.”
The station is already crowded and she’s cringing at the sight of two many fucking people. They fall in line, jacking in personal links, eyes glowing as they pay the fee then wait for the train. Mothers holding their children’s hands, homeless people with signs at the sides of the station, begging for eddies.
“Too many times,” he says jacking in his personal link, eyes lighting up as he pays for both of their rides, “this is what friends and family are for, chica.”
“To pay my way in the world?” She asks as they step into the crowded subway train.
The crowd is forced to part around Jackie, everyone offering his broad frame more space, as his sheer size demands it. No one moves for V, she has to step and weave around people who easily crowd around her small figure without a second thought. Is it just the size difference? Or something more?
She curls in on herself, shrinking as she maneuvers through people. Too many voices, layering together into cacophony. She can feel the warmth of everyone’s body, the stench of body odor and contrasting perfumes or colognes. She needs her own car, for sure, this is agony. She can’t do this daily.
“To have your back, mija. Besides, acting like world’s doing you a favor by letting you exist, a good way to get your neck stepped on.”
“But, you and your ma are doing me a favor. You gonna step on my neck for thanking you?”
They’ve come to a stop, Jackie finding a empty pole on the subway train to hold onto. She looks up at him, waiting for his answer, blinking expectantly. He’s not seriously suggesting she not be grateful, is he? She’s no stranger to faking confidence or having an attitude, she’s not exactly a goodie two shoes. But she’s not about to be rude to people who don’t invite the behavior. Usually.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
“Look at you like what?” She asks, migraine forming as she’s surrounded by noise.
“With those puppy eyes.”
“Those are just my eyes, Jackie.”
“Well, stop it.”
“Fine,” she decides, kill two birds, one stone, “I’m gonna put my mask on and turn off my hearing aids for a bit.”
“Why?”
“Too much,” she signs and gesture vaguely to the entire subway.
“Ah, not used to the city noise are ya?” He asks just before she turns off her hearing aids, sliding her mask in place. She breathes a sigh of relief, silence, glorious silence.
“Its...a lot, but in general, world has either been silent or at least had a mute button since I was nine. First time I got my hearing aids, I broke down in tears, felt like the world was screaming at me and that was in the middle of nowhere. I’ve gotten use to them and its not even necessarly the volume, its just that its not cohesive if that makes sense. Not that any sound is too loud, just there’s too many of them.”
“I think, I get ya, if it’s one thing drowning out everything else it’s fine. But, when you got twenty different things going on, it feels like your brain is going in every direction?”
“Kinda? It’s just too much, like the world on low volume.”
“Eh, have a feel you’re gonna be hitting mute on Night City a lot.”
“Yeah, I kinda figure.”
“Hmmm, probably should figure out a better fix than the mask too, can’t wear it all the time.”
“I mean,” she shrugs, “ideally everyone in the world would just learn sign language to accommodate me.”
“Yeah?” He laughs, apparently catching the joke, “Night City ain’t one for accomadating.”
“A person can dream.”
“Tell you what though, chica, teach me sign language, I’ll teach you, Spanish.”
“You got it, and once you know ASL and I know Spanish, we can learn Spanish Sign Language, or if you prefer Mexican Sign Language. Or both.”
“How many different kinds of sign language are there again?”
“Not sure, but I probably can’t count that high. I mean there’s several variations even in just signing in English.”
“Oh…”
“You have ASL which is the most common, you have Signed Exact English which has a lot more fingerspellng. You have Conceptually Accurate Signed English, also sometimes called Pidgin Sign Language which essentially uses ASL signs but follows word order and grammar rules from English. And-”
“I’m regretting this already.”
“Then there’s different dialects used within different parts of the deaf community, like-”
“Well, lookie there, it’s our stop,” Jackie cuts her off when the subway train comes to a stop and she’s smiling behind her mask, watching the way the gears in his head turn trying to keep up with this information.
V stays close to his back as he leaves the crowded train, taking advantage of the space the crowd gives him to give herself some space. The chop shop is just a short walk from the station and despite struggling to keep up with Jackie’s longer strides, they reach it without much issue. V making sure to turn her hearing aids back on before she enters the store.
“Can I help you?” A worker grumbles when the pair walk through the door.
“I’m looking for a Galena Rattler, nomad vehicle, red. Someone brought it in here.”
The worker scratches at the cybernetics etching his face, searching his memory for a moment before he finally speaks up.
“Had something like that come in a day or two ago, had a dog bobblehead on the dash?’
“That’s the one.”
“Bucket of rust was sent to the landfill as soon as it got here, probably scrapped by now.”
Her heart sinks into her chest, her first car, her fucking home for the past four or so years; gone. All because some asshole had to fuck her over. She wants to scream, cry a little bit, kick something.
“Sorry, kid, uh, I can get you the stuff we got out of it. About all I can offer you.”
“Okay…”
She nudges the floor with the toe of her boot, fingers fiddling with the hem of her shirt as she waits. It isn’t long until the worker emerges from the back room with her dufflebag, the guitar case, and her dog bobblehead. V checks through, all weapons and first aid shit gone. But her holophone, her clothes, the clunky old little computer, her photos, and her mother’s guitar are all still there. Basically anything they couldn’t feasibly make a profit off of is still there. Photos mean nothing, a crappy landfill camera worthless, beat up acoustic guitar, and tech that dates back a good couple years don’t amount to much when you want cash. At least being generations behind everyone else has done her some good. Even if she still lost her car.
Most of her mementos were saved, but a pit still forms in her stomach at losing her car, essentially her closest thing to home since she left The Herd.
“C’mere, chica.”
Jackie wraps his arms around her smaller frame, large arms encompassing her, threatening to crush the air from her lungs. Unlike the one-armed hug from his mother, this is overwhelmingly affectionate, surrounded by his warmth. She tries to think back the last time she was hugged like this, probably by her own mother, when she was fifteen? V freezes in his grasp, arms awkwardly hanging at her sides before she brings them up to lightly pat at his back. Not quite able to commit herself to hugging him back fully.
“…”
“Aye, Santa Madre. Is that how you hug, V?”
She shrugs within his hold, unable to sign while being pulled so close to him. He pulls away, leaving only a hand on her shoulder.
“What’s wrong with how I hug?”
“Everything, don’t worry though, we’ll work on it,” he tells her.
“You’re weird.”
“So,” Jackie switches gears, “Sinclaire, you got a plan yet?”
“Sinclaire lives in the penthouse of a megabuilding. Intel says he should be there today, taking a day off tricking nomads I guess. Need to get in, figure out where the cargo is, and gut Sinclaire.”
“Got a netrunner who owes me a favor, she might be able to get in the subnet for the building, trip the cameras and get us in.”
“Seriously, you wanna waste that favor on me?”
“Eh, T-Bug will help me out again, even if she says otherwise.”
Jackie rolls his eyes and pulls out his holophone, his optics lighting up bright blue as he dials a number, like many folks he has his phone hooked up to his eyes. .
“Hey, Bug, calling in my favor.”
V can’t hear the other side of the conversation, shaking her bobblehead as she waits patiently. Bobble bobble, the dog’s head bounces up and down.
“We’re trying to get into Megabuilding 12, huh…oh I got myself a new partner, she’s cool, don’t worry. Just need you to hack the subnet, get us access, kill the cameras. Can you do that for me?”
A smirk comes across Jackie’s face and he rolls his eyes, before looking to V, “Bug says she wants to be patched through to you, ain’t helping someone she don’t know. “
“That’s fine,” she signs, “I can sync my holophone to my mask just like optics.”
Her mask will display the person just like optic tech can, she has it set so her avatar displays instead of her face so all they’ll see is a picture of the same expression on her mask, and they’ll hear the AI voice as she signs. Jackie taps at his phone as he sends the call to V’s phone as well. Her mask lights up to let her know of the incoming call and she taps accept on her phone, a little video square shows up in the corner of her vision.
T-bug is older than V, most folks are, with dark hair shaved down nearly to her scalp and dark makeup surrounding her big brown eyes. A skin tight black net runner suit clings to what’s visible of her body.
“Hello,” V signs, letting the AI voice resonate through the connection.
“No face, no voice; the hell are you dragging me into Jackie?”
“Stop worrying Bug, V is good people, she just needs to get back at a client who fucked her over. You said you owed me one.”
“Fine, but this goes sideways and I’m frying you both.”
“Not sure you can fry V, but alright. Let’s get our asses moving.”
They opt to walk to the megabuilding, not to leave any trace of traveling out there. It’s not far out and before too long they’re standing before the stairs up to the towering building. Megabuildings are impressive to say the least, giant ecosystems in their own right, rows of rows of the same apartments until you hit the top floors and lower floors dedicated to shops. V tucks her bobblehead into her dufflebag and puts her bag down in a corner by the stairs along with the guitar case, preferring to travel lightly as they axe Sinclaire, she doesn’t need to worry about bashing a guitar into a wall while she’s taking him down.
“You play?” Jackie asks her after a beat of silence, eyes on the guitar case.
“No.” Her answer is flat, monotone through the translator, and she offers no other explanation.
“…talking to you is really gonna be like pulling teeth, ain’t it?”
“You asked a question, I answered.”
“Nah, nah, it’s okay, I spill my soul, let you in my home, my family, my bed; and you give me half assed hugs and one word answers, I get it, chica.”
“There’s nothing to get!”
“No worries, I got time, I’ll know you better than you know yourself, before you…well, know it,” his grin drops as he realized he said ‘know’ entirely too many times in that sentence
“Didn’t think that sentence through, did ya?”
“Shaddup, let’s get this asshole.”
T-bug’s avatar and quick flashes of technological info flashes at a camera as they enter the megabuilding. The imagery showing through to Jackie and V while none of the hundred or so residents buzzing around are any the wiser to what’s about to go down.
“I’m in the subnet, I can see you on cams and cut off the feed to security. Getting you penthouse access now.”
“Efficient as fuck,” V can’t help but sign, forever amazed at netrunners in general, let alone just how quickly T-bug has managed to take care of this.
“Don’t work any other way, besides Megabuildings have shoddy security at best, this is nothing.”
“Honestly, you could hack a toaster and I’d be impressed, this stuff is way beyond my comprehension,” V admits as her and Jackie reach the elevator, T-bug’s avatar just flashing before it opens for them.
“Your mask can work for scanning, get a cyberdeck and I could send you some quickhacks and daemons; set you up with the basics.”
“I’ll have to keep that in mind, never hurts to learn.” Even if she’s fairly convinced she’s too stupid to figure it out.
“So, V’s managed to win you over already?” Jackie comments, grinning.
“More like I’m trying to make sure you don’t call me over petty shit again,” T-bug insists, though there’s no real malice to her voice.
V leans against the elevator wall as it lurches into movement, screens playing the news around them. She smiles behind her mask as Jackie grins, winking before he responds to T-bug.
“You say that but you and I both know you like being part of the team, Bug.”
“Oh, brother,” T-bug says with a roll of her eyes and V can’t help but crack up, she can’t really imagine the two being fast friends; a loud energetic solo and a stoic netrunner. It makes her wonder how exactly they met or what favor T-bug might owe Jackie.
“On your toes,” T-bug speaks up as the elevator comes to a stop, “two guards outside the penthouse door, I’ll run a quick hack to distract them.”
“Get their backs to us and we’ll drop ‘em quiet, T.”
The elevator door opens and there’s a clanging mechanical sound that rings out on the top floor halls. Jackie and V stay low as they leave the elevator; turning a corner to see two of Sinclaire’s guards. They’re looking over a vending machine that’s began to spew energy drinks out on the floor. She suddenly wishes she brought her duffle bag up with her, if only to take advantage and stockpile some drinks.
They creep up behind them, V points at the guard at the left then herself, making it clear she’ll take him and Jackie nods. She gets behind her mark and lurches forward, snapping his neck with a crunch, feeling him go limp under her touch. From her peripheral she watches as Jackie crushes his target’s windpipe with one heavy press of his forearm. Two guards in a pile they stand up straight and make a beeline to the penthouse door. Jackie takes out his pistol, making sure its loaded, while V gets her own gun out, the one she stole from the 6th Street fuck.
“You get a peek inside the penthouse, Bug?”
“No more muscle inside, Sinclaire is in his office, its second door on the left going past the living room.”
“’Preciate it, T-bug.” V signs as the penthouse door slides open. Jackie and her have weapons at the ready as they go in.
Sinclaire’s penthouse is bougie as they come, more proof for her theory that rich people just have no fucking taste. Tacky and gaudy decorations in a lavish open room plan. The disgusting lack of taste nearly distracts from what he has that is of legitimate value; a bar stocked with expensive booze and a tv nearly as wide as a car.
“Doesn’t seem like Sinclaire was hurting for eddies.”
“That’s fine, plenty to sell off if he already moved the cargo.”
“Place giving you sticky fingers?”
“Mmhmm,” she hums as she rubs the dirty heel of her boot against the tacky zebra rug, satisfied when she leaves a smudge of filth in the white of it.
They move through the penthouse, finding the office door, Jackie doesn’t jump to do anything, instead giving her a nod. He’s letting her lead the charge, take care of her own business on her own terms and she’s beyond thankful for it. No desire to be subtle, V kicks the door in, slamming her boot into the door and watching it burst open under her force.
Sinclaire yells out, jolting at the sight of the two mercs bursting into his office. He’s still sat at his desk, hands raised in surrender as he looks at V, then his eyes drag over to Jackie. Staring down two barrels, he still finds it in him to sneer.
“V…see you managed to find yourself a friend in the trash.”
“Pair of crosshairs, both on ya, wouldn’t be mouthing off if I was you,” Jackie warns.
“Someone wi-“
“Already iced your muscle and got control of the cams,” V explains, smirking as his ego deflates, “the only way you’re getting out of here alive is if you tell me where the cargo is.”
“Seriously, all this over some ca-“
V cocks her gun and presses it to his forehead, finger on the trigger, held in one hand so she can still sign.
“Either I get the cargo or I get revenge; take your pick.”
“In the tank behind you.”
“Jackie.” She doesn’t want them to both turn their back on Sinclaire, slimy fuck that he is.
“What don’t trust me?”
She cracks her pistol across his cheek, the force of it knocking him out of his chair and onto the floor. V steps on his back, gun still pointed at his dome as she presses her weight down on him. The pale of his cheek starts to turn purple and she feels just a touch of satisfaction knowing she’s dealt him even a fraction of the harm he dealt her.
“Iguana, lesser Antillean I think,” Jackie calls out and with the new position she’s put Sinclaire in she’s able to crane her neck to see. A large tank with a bright green lizard, black around his face, and red spines down it’s back.
“What!?” Her voice comes out along with her signing, distorting and layering over the artificial one, unable to contain her temper as she looks down at Sinclaire, pressing her foot down harder on him, “did you try to kill me over a fuckin’ lizard!?”
“You got any idea how much that thing’s worth?”
She pulls her foot off of him just to grab his shirt collar, dragging Sinclaire back up to his feet. V keeps one hand wrapped up in his collar and uses the other to press the gun against his back. She shoves him, he tries to resist, but despite their size difference V is easily able to out strength him. The former nomad drags him through his penthouse and out the door, across the hallway towards a door. Jackie’s steps echo through the building as he covers her, keeping a lookout for any new guards that may show. She kicks the door open from behind Sinclaire, the flights of stairs greeting them, one’s going down and the ones that go up to the roof.
“T-bug, roof?” V asks, voice still distorted and echoing through the filter of her mask, unable to sign with her hand full.
“No muscle up there, you’re good.”
“Look, we can talk about this V, w-“
“Move.” She jabs her gun into the small of his back, emphasizing her point. Sinclaire marches up the stairs as she forces him upwards, they reach the final door that leads out and V kicks it open like she did the last before making him walk through.
The former nomad forces him out onto the roof of the megabuilding, cool air hitting her fevered skin. They don’t stop moving, V’s eyes trained on the edge of the roof as she pushes him forward. He babbles, utterances and insistence that they can work this out; but she’s pissed and he has to pay. He’s not going to get away with it, no one is ever going to get away with treating her like this again.
Sinclaire stops moving, feet cemented in place just before he hits the edge, still trying to beg for his life as he resists her pushing on his back and neck.
“V, please, please we can ta-“
His voice cuts to a scream as she shoves him as hard as she can with both hands, knocking him off balance and sending him over the side of the building. She watches as his body plummets; a low whistle ringing out beside her.
“Long way down, ya know I heard folks die before they even hit the ground on falls like that.”
“That’s a shame,” she signs, shaking her head, she wanted him to feel it when his head hits the concrete.
“Feel any better?”
“Yeah, lets klep the lizard and run before someone asks questions.”
“No rush, pigs will just think he offed himself, happens all the time.”
“Good to know.”
“Still wouldn’t throw yourselves a party up there, NCPD might come check the area once it’s reported.” T-bug warns over the comms.
“Yeah, in like two days, chill Bug,” Jackie assures her as him and V leave the roof, taking the stairs back down to the penthouse.
There’s a weight off of V’s shoulders as she and Jackie return to Sinclaire’s penthouse office. She hefts a little sigh as she sees the bright green iguana and she’s reminded of Jackie’s earlier comment, called it a lesser antil-something.
“You know a lot about iguanas?” she asks him, he has Taco after all, he seems to like fish and lizards.
“Ah, saw something about ‘em on the science channel,” he looks to the iguana, calmly sitting in it’s tank, “you come a long way, my scaley friend.”
She can see a softness in Jackie’s smile, and she can’t blame him, the iguana is adorable. Tentatively, V lowers her hand down into the terrarium. She nudges her fingers against the lizard, feeling it’s bumpy skin that’s been warmed under a heat lamp. It’s tail flicks against her just before it turns to knock it’s face against her hand, nuzzling under the touch. She can’t help but smile, signing with her free hand to Jackie.
“Yeah, I’d kill me for him too.”
Jackie laughs as the iguana latches it’s claws into her hoodie sleeve, before climbing up the length of her arm. She lets out a soft little exclamation as the reptile makes it’s way to her shoulder, burrowing itself into the junction where her neck and shoulder meet.
“Awww cuddly fucker,” Jackie coos, smiling softly at V and her new snuggle buddy.
“He’s…probably worth a lot…” She slowly signs, unable to have much energy at the idea of selling him. V wants to make the money she meant to make, iguanas are rare, but…he’s very cute. And maybe she’s too much of a softie for animals.
“Yeah, a shame too, been wanting another pet, Taco’s got some age on him now…Had the name Manny all figured out too.”
“Are the two of you, serious?” T-bug comments, rolling her eyes in the holoview, “all of this and you want to keep the lizard?”
“I mean…I don’t want him to fall into the wrong hands,” V tries to defend herself.
“Iguanas have very specific needs, not just anyone can take care of ‘em,” Jackie adds.
“But you’re like, an iguana expert, basically.”
“Basically.”
“And I mean, if you and Mama Welles don’t mind having me around a while longer, I won’t need the cash right away.”
“Hell no, we don’t mind.”
“Just keep the damn thing and shut up,” T-bug scolds, sick of them trying to justify it.
“C’mon, let’s get Manny home and set up,” Jackie explains, unplugging the heat lamp so he can grab it along with the tank.
“We gotta keep him warm, right?”
“Yep, can’t let him get chilled.”
She nods, deciding to scoop up Manny and move him from her shoulder to putting him in her hoodie, hugging him close to her body over the fabric. V feels a bit like she’s cradling a baby, which isn’t terribly off base. Manny is now her child, she has decided. Jackie starts to carry the iguana stuff out of the penthouse, cutting through the kitchen with V trailing behind him.
V jumps and yelps, a loud popping noises and sparks flying out of a toaster as she walks past. She clutches Manny to her chest, the iguana clinging to her under her hoodie after the startle.
“Impressed?” T-bug asks, raising an eyebrow and V tries desperately to suppress her smile at the joke. A part of her mad that she was caught off guard by the trick, damn netrunners.
“I’m something, alright, scared the shit out of me.”
“Holy shit,” Jackie says with a smile teasing at the corner of his lips, “Bug making jokes, I must be dying.”
“Fuck off, cutting comms, now.”
“Talk to you later, Bug.”
“Hmm, maybe, we’ll see how I feel,” T-bug teases, “nice meeting you V.”
“Thanks again for the help, and the minor heart attack I guess.”
“Anytime.”
“I’m not sure if you mean the help or the heart attack.”
“Could go either way.” T-bug tells her before cutting communication, the woman’s face blinking from V’s mask. The merc laughs, softly at the exchange as she pushes the mask up onto her head. T-bug seems nice underneath it all, colder than Jackie, but most people are. The teddy bear of a guy is hard to compete with warmth wise.
She trails behind Jackie as the pair leave to the elevator. V leans against one wall of the elevator, against one of the bright screens that play ads, looking down at Manny tucked in her hoodie. He’s too cute. Jackie gives her a wink before he hits the button on the elevator and it lurches into movement.
“Once we get little mano here set up, we’ll head over to Misty’s.”
“Misty?” She fingerspells the name out, cocking her head to the side in question.
“My mainline,” he gets a dreamy little smile on his face, “mi amada, you’ll love her, she’s the sweetest thing”
“Oooooh~”
“Jesus fuck!” V yells out and jumps to hide behind Jackie at the sudden keening moan in her ear, holding Manny tighter to her chest.
“Pfff,” Jackie’s shoulders shake, before he busts out in laughter, clutching at his stomach.
Heat flushes up to V’s hairline as she sees the source of her distress, the screen she’d been leaning against now display an advertisement for Milfgaard some cougar website with a scantily clad older woman spreading her legs and moaning. She threw a man off a building and the scariest parts of her day have been a toaster and a porn ad.
“My god, you’re wound tighter than a clock, Jaina,” he teases her.
“Shut up.”
“We have got to loosen you up,” he tells her as they step out the elevator and back out the lobby of the megabuilding.
She carefully pulls her bag and her mother’s guitar case on her shoulders, making sure not to shuffle Manny too much before she trots off behind Jackie. There’s already cop cars pulling up behind the megabuilding as the two mercs disappear into the crowd.
Once Manny is settled in his tank next to Taco’s and V’s stuff is put aside in Jackie’s room; her new friend is pulling her back out of the house. He’s pure excitement accentuated by a wide grin as he shows her the city and god it has it’s problems, what place doesn’t, but there’s something to it. She could write a list of flaws from the corps to the trash, to the cruelty, to the poverty, and homelessness that run rampant there.
‘Hellooooo there Night City!’
But there’s an energy she can’t describe.
Night City has a magic to it, it’s the only way she can define it. Neon lights distract her from the trash that covers every corner. The constant thrum of music helping drown out the just as constant sound of gunfire. Something is magnetic and she understands why so many people are drawn to such a place.
‘Stanley, here with you and we got another day ahead of us in this city of dreams!’
She meets Misty; Jackie’s mainline in her candle lit shop for tarot readings and chakra realignments. The pair adorable as Jackie spins the blonde goth around in his arms. She says V has a nice aura but her chakras are misalligned, which sounds dumb to the merc, but Misty says it with such a sweet smile and V loses the will to tell her as much. Turns out the oil smell in Jackie’s blankets is diluted cedarwood oil that Misty gives him to keep away negative energy and aura blockages.
Misty reads her tarot cards not long after they meet, her cards frayed and worn, as she tells V what the hanged man card means. V doesn’t buy into any of it; but Misty is kind and earnest, the merc willing to entertain her eccentricities if only to say in Misty’s company. V learns her aura is a bright cyan blue, is given a chrysocolla crystal which provides energy for a fresh start, and lavender oil to encourage relaxation and sleep. How Misty knew her sleep struggles, she has no idea, but the lavender does help her relax so why look a gift horse in the mouth. She signs a thanks while tucking the rollerball of oil into her pocket.
‘Ooh, I love this town!’
V meets Vik the same day, trying to hide her nerves at being in a clinic as Jackie and the ripperdoc playfully punch at each other. He’s a sweet older man, tattoos and jewelry showing his love for boxing. He doesn’t even get mad the first time he tries to even look over her and she has a panic attack, accidentally kicking him in the groin, before the ripperdoc glove can even touch her. She apologizes like her life depends on it, hands aching by the time she’s done signing it. He laughs it off, laughs harder when she jokes about not getting candy for being a good patient.
The next time he tries, he stops himself. Face contorting when he’s able to get as far as a diagnostic report this time, seeming stressed by the results. He asks about her autoimmune disease, diagnostics picking up on her overactive antibodies. She can nearly see his heart sinking, like she’s his own child and not just a stranger who freaked out on his table one time. He’s horrified to know her condition has gone completely untreated, that her fear of doctors kept her from getting the treatment she needed. She doesn’t explain where the fear comes from, not wanting to recount her experiences with the clan doctor, the fear of having treatments done against her will. He warns her that while it’s not attacking her eyes or joints as aggressively, overtime and without any treatment it could take the eyes next, the muscles, the joints, the organs. Her entire body could with time destroy itself. Before he fathoms giving her implants, he puts her on immunosuppressants. Making her sure her health is stable, that her body has calmed in attacking itself . Only then, do they go back to the idea of installing cyberware, she even gets a lolly along with her shot and pills; Vik leaning into her dumb joke.
She takes the personal link and neural slots well, cyberdeck and the like added. But the idea of losing her eyes is too much, he says he’ll work with her. He works with her lot, both on the money and with her own discomfort. Vik doesn’t press a “fix” for her hearing, instead beefing up her hearing aids so she has more control over the volume and so she can tune it to police scanners; not that she has any intention of doing contract work for the pigs, but it’s good to know what they’re up to if nothing else. He doesn’t even get mad when she nearly breaks her personal link a day after him installing it, unable to stop playing with the damn thing.
‘Love it like you might love a mother who popped you out on the steps of an orphanage once and now stops to ask you if you got a smoke for her!’
In a few weeks he’s gotten her contacts that work like optics and helped her fashion a choker with the same AI translator of sign language; for when she chooses to ditch the mask. He also has candy, leaning into her dumb joke, and for the first time she feels like she can trust a doctor. And she doesn’t go anywhere else, even if she catches a bullet in Pacifica, she makes Jackie haul her ass to Watson to see Vik.
She soon learns that she and Jackie just work. There’s a synergy to their partnership, an understanding and balance that shows in their merc work. He’s stronger than her, knows the streets and people of Night City better than she could ever hope. But she’s stealthier, quieter, and cleaner in her work. She leads the charge when dropping targets quietly and he runs the show when they’re going in guns ablazing. Though he always tries to keep her safe, perhaps out of care and perhaps out of a sense of obligation. It’d be smothering if it weren’t endearing.
‘Every new day here, means another hundred new arrivals!’
It’s not all cherries on sundaes, the two don’t always get along and butt heads more than once. Mostly over gigs; money vs morality. She won’t take corp or cop cash, unless it’s stolen; they want work they can find some other gonk. Jackie says cash is cash, no matter who’s paying. She gets the pragmatism but can’t do it, shutting down a fixer the second she learns their money is coming from Biotechnica. Jackie isn’t happy, but he respects the call. They agree to disagree, if he wants to take those gigs, he can do them without her. He doesn’t take it in the end, she wonders if he doesn’t want to solo it or if she managed to get him thinking about where his money comes from.
“But only half these gonks will survive a year and that’s if it’s a good one.”
They find a steady routine and flow; working gigs, grabbing lunch with Misty and Vik, more gigs, dinner with Mama Welles, maybe a few more jobs and maybe hitting the bars to spend the eddies they just made. Regular trips to the black market to pick up some ammo and firearms. He has a date with Misty about every week, something V always takes the time to mock. But it’s all in good fun. Some night her and Jackie fall asleep on the couch in a heap watching movies, waking up with Mama Welles having thrown a blanket over them. Other nights she spends at a Kabuki motel, wrapped up in whoever she picked up at the bar.
She experiences her first braindance, loses a tooth when they sneak into the Riot nightclub, gets in another police chase, and sees her first pair of Mantis Blades when they’re coming for her head. V realizes Mama Welles runs the Coyote Cujo and gets better introduced to the staff there; including a busboy named Jake who finds his way into her pants quite easily.
‘And why do these peeps come to NC?’
And then a month has gone by and she has no idea where it went.
V spends her saved back money on a car before she rents an apartment; sick of using the train. Nothing like trying to move a dead body on public transit. Jackie helps her pick it out, the car sold to her by Padre, because every fixer apparently doubles as a car salesman. It only seemed right for her to buy from him and to get Jackie’s approval before she made the purchase. Her bobblehead sits on the dashboard proudly.
She helps Jackie pick out a new deck of tarot cards for Misty, spending an entire day browsing mystical shops before they find the perfect one. Misty adores them and gives the mercs readings as soon as she opens the box, feeling a connection to the cards.
‘Well, to be street samurai like Morgan Blackhand and Waylon Boa Boa!”
Misty and Vik hear her voice, no mask, for the first time on a sunny day after she accidentally launched herself down the stairs in front of the doc’s clinic in an office chair. Laughing as Vik asked her if she was stupid and telling him, “yes.” Because who is she to deny the truth?
In between gigs, Jackie drags her down to Jig Jig street, the most perverse section of Night City. Sex shops, strippers, and joytoys as far as the eye can see. He gives her hell for the way cheeks flush red, they’re there for fun and not business so the mask is off, she’s still not used to the brazen displays of sexuality a person finds in the city. But, despite her awkwardness, she’s far from opposed to it.
‘The greater the risk, the bigger the bounty!”
She childishly demands Vik and Jackie teach her how to box when she finds out there’s a club for it that they both attend. V manages to last a round with Jackie, but only by being fast enough not to get hit, taunting him until he gets a punch in on the second round and knocks her ass to the ground. He apologized a thousand times but all she could do was laugh. Misty has it on camera, as she should.
Misty shows V her little rooftop get away on top of her shop, her zen garden with plastic chairs where they can spend time together when they need a nicer view during lunch, Misty, Jackie, Vik, and V eat their Chinese food takeout or whatever they’ve decided on up there. Once or twice V finds herself going up there alone at night, just to take in the way the neon lights of the city hit the black sky. The city may have been named after its founder, but she finds it more apt to describe when the city is at its most beautiful.
She also gets to witness a rare spat between Misty and Jackie when she catches the merc’s dangling a target over the side of said roof to get information. Jackie letting go of the guy to try to apologize for ruining the aura of the roof; while V struggled to hold him up…and eventually dropped him. But Jackie bought Misty some sage to cleanse the roof, so all well that ends well.
‘Or so they say!’
Another month gone by like she blinked it away.
T-bug starts to work with them again, off and on. Jackie told her she only owed him a favor and didn’t work with him long term. But she reconnects, helping get them more jobs and helping the jobs run even smoother with a trusted security expert on their side. She teaches V how to use quick hacks, but the merc still prefers blades and baseball bats. Mostly just using them to blind folks before she stabs them.
She catches a bullet in Santo Domingo, a 6th street member trying to settle a score and she refuses to go to anyone but Vik. The merc holds her hand to her wound as Jackie drives them to Watson. It’s the first time she’s ever seen Vik mad, he patches her up but he scolds her for hours after, that she should have seen the nearest doc. That she could have died. And she has no excuse, but she knows she’d do it again.
‘But you can only be a major league player for so long!”
A gig drags V and Jackie out to a supposedly haunted old building; Misty tags along, nearly bouncing at the prospect of contacting spirits. V learns that Jackie is afraid of ghosts and spends the entire job trying to entice the supposed specters into eviscerating her. They all leave unscathed though Jackie looked on the verge of tears.
T-bug hacks a Militch training datashard at some point and V decides to try to play through it, interested in learning any new tips or tricks that could help her. The netrunning lessons are the most useful, Bug managing to help even an idiot like V figure out how to do some quick hacks and use daemons. She also gains a new appreciation for being called maggot by her friend. Bug definitely had way too much fun play sergeant.
During a job, Jackie and V hear a man yelling into his phone demanding to know if the person on the other end fucked his wife. They lose their minds laughing and lose the person they were tracking for a good hour. Misty and Vik think they’ve gone nuts when they spend the rest of the day mimicking the stranger to make each other laugh; seeing who can scream “did you fuck my wife!?” the loudest without shame. Jackie wins.
‘The faster you live, the faster you burn out!’
Vik catches her eyeing the projectile launcher system implant; essentially a rocket launcher that goes into the forearm. She’d love to have that sheer amount of firepower at will, plus unlike other weapon implants it’s only on one arm, less intrusive for the cyberware shy merc. The ripper offers to install it for her on credit and she nearly chokes, amazed that he’d be so kind, maybe he just trusts her when she says she doesn’t go to any other doc. But she refuses, not willing to take advantage of his good graces. Deciding instead to save up once she gets the apartment.
She meets Cecelia, a waitress at Tom’s Diner, an older woman with pretty eyes. Jackie nearly rolls his eyes out of his head when V starts flirting, giving her even more shit about V’s taste in older men and women after she gets Cecelia in bed. Along with Jake, she becomes one of her rare repeat bedmates. They’re both significantly older than the young merc, each with children, and not interested in anything deeper than rolling around in the sheets, after all anyone with eyes can see V’s not stepparent material. There’s no danger of them wanting more, so V’s happy to return to them when she wants something more familiar than a one-night stand.
‘If you don’t get a bullet to the brain first!’
Misty gets confused when V signs Jackie’s name sign, instead of fingerspelling it. Optics getting the translation off and muddled. So, the merc is left explaining the inability of optic tech to translate name signs due to their highly individualized nature. Jackie’s name sign to her is only that, his name sign to her. It’s not mind reading tech…yet. Her cheeks flush red when she has to explain that Jackie’s name sign for her is a combination of the sign for the letter ‘J’ and the sign for ‘brother. Fingerspelling J, then bringing that fist with the pinky out onto an “L” shape formed by her other hand. Jackie pulls her into a hug immediately after, nearly crushing the air out of her lungs. She’s less timid during this hug, he tells her she’s getting better, but it still needs work.
Vik, Misty, and Jackie take to trying to learn more sign language; letting V teach them whenever they all find a spare moment. Mama Welles even uses a few, picking them up from V and Jackie. The merc tears up, none of them are fluent, but they’re trying. Trying to learn for her and she’s so rarely had anyone care enough to try for her; her sister and mother the only one of the nomad family who knew it fluently, who took the time to learn. Ava learned a few then stopped bothering. Years of no one caring enough to learn for her, but even with all the tech in the world to get around it, they still try. She doesn’t explain her tears, and no one makes her, Misty just gently rubbing her back as they continue with the lesson.
Jackie helps her with Spanish in return, just as they talked about. Some things are intentionally taught to her, other just picked up. Pendejo is forever ingrained in her head. Though, a part of her wonders how much use it really will be, if maybe Jackie just likes that she has to talk during these lessons. She’s become more comfortable with talking with him verbally. It happens naturally, over their time together. That when it’s just him and her, she’ll find herself talking along with her sign language. But, she’s still tight-lipped when she ventures outside her new social circle. She doesn’t think she’ll ever have it in her to be completely verbal.
Another month gone…
“NC’s Legends! Know where you’ll find most of them?”
Taco passes away, the mini-shark was an older pet even when Jackie first got him. He knew it was coming, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. They hold a makeshift funeral for Taco, Misty and V hugging Jackie as he cries. Mama Welles makes his favorite foods for dinner and V stays with him through a movie night. It doesn’t make things magically okay, he hurts and he grieves the lost of his friend. But he’s not alone and they fall asleep on the couch in a heap. He spends the next night at Misty’s and V finds herself wishing that Misty and Mama Welles got along better, that they all could have been there to support Jackie that first night.
She knows he’s back on the upswing when they find an abandoned grocery cart and he offers to push her around in it. V calls it a dumb idea than promptly climbs inside. Jackie gets a long running start and heavy push of his foot before putting both feet up, letting them ride out the distance, giggling like children. Then they hit a hill and flip at the bottom of it, on the ground staring at the stars and giggling like concussed children.
At some point in the month a client invites them to an orgy after they drop off the goods they were asked to steal. V finally gets her revenge for Jig Jig street, Jackie’s face turning red all the way to the tips of his ears. He refuses and runs to tell Misty as soon as he can, as if even getting the invite makes him feel guilty. Jackie’s the only one who ever finds out about whether V went, a secret she likes to keep close to her heart.
V gets…acquainted with her first exotic partner, that is to say someone who’s had animal based body mods done. She’s seen the cat ears and tails and nearly got bit by a ganger with fangs; but the full anthropomorphic furry mods took her by surprise. Some people played Sonic as a kid and just never looked back, she supposes. Not that she can judge, she did spot the heavily modded bunny exotic girl across a bar and decide why not. It was an interesting night, the fur took getting use to, and she thinks the girl was a little sick of V petting her ears after a while.
Her and Jackie find an illegal firearms dealer, her best friend finding a pair of pistols he loves. They’re embellished with gold and he proudly brandishes them, spinning them in his hands and giving her a grin a mile wide.
And another month finds it’s end.
“The Graveyard.”
She’s fallen into the habit of using her mask during her work and using the choker with the contacts during her personal time. It keeps business a bit more separate and she feels more secure in the hiding of her identity this way, most fixers and clients don’t know what V looks like. not that she worries much about The Herd anymore. The days blink by faster and faster without her ever thinking that her former family might have an inkling of where she is. Despite the polluted air, she’s breathing easier.
There’s a few rumors among mercs and fixers about what her deal is, why she hides her face. From burns, cyberware gone wrong, to some mutated twin stuck on her head. She encourages them, finding each new crazy idea funnier than the last. Her favorite is just telling people she was born with a bad case of ugly and seeing their reaction. None of them are any the wiser when they pass her unmasked on the street, thinking her just some other Night City citizen and not the same merc.
“Matters not where you’re from.”
In her six month in Night City, she finally gets an apartment to herself. Not wanting to have spent half a year mooching off of the Welles family. Even if Mama Welles insists it’s no trouble, that she’s a delight to have around and her stress cleaning has done wonders for their home. She still can’t bring herself to spend the rest of her day living off their good graces. Mama Welles holds her face and kisses the top of her head before she leaves, making her promise to come see her again.
Her apartment is in a megabuilding in Watson, one of the worst districts in Night City, though better than Pacifica she supposes. She’s on the eighth floor, the buildings all get nicer the higher up you get and have at least twenty levels. It is far from grand but it’s hers. Jackie and Misty help her move in, as well as decorate. Putting pictures and fairy lights up over her enclosed bed, another strand of lights across the opening for it and over top of the shuddered windows. And install a sensor on the door that will make a bright red light shine if someone knocks, so she can see it if she has her hearing aids out. The apartment only comes with a microwave and vending machine as far as food goes, no kitchen or fridge. But there is a stash room for weaponry because guns are more important than getting to cook for herself. But beggars can’t be choosers, Misty even brings some purifying crystals and burns sage to keep the energy clean even if the apartment floor isn’t.
She gets to know some of her neighbors and people who run businesses on the services floor of the megabuilding. Wilson runs the Second Amendment gun store on the floor below hers, he’s a curmudgeon of an older guy who runs away most customers with his consistent yelling about respecting firearms. But he doesn’t seem to mind her, maybe because his yelling didn’t scare her away.
“Matter not where you start.”
Brooks is an enby with green cat ears on the floor above her sells V edibles, pot brownies and cookies whenever she has the spare eddies. It helps her sleep a little easier on nights where she doesn’t have a partner and eases some of her anxiety that still pops up every now and again.
The guy who lives in the apartment just below her own is a beat cop named Barry. Something she learns when she’s playing music with her hearing aids out, top volume so she can feel the vibrations rattling her bones and shaking the walls. It apparently shook his walls too and he came knocking on the door. She didn’t get a chance to read his lips when she answered the door, but judging by the drop on his face when she started signing, she suspects he might have been demanding to know if she was ‘fuckin’ deaf or something’. Despite his job, he’s an alright guy and they find themselves talking a few times after laughing off the exchange. If he quit, maybe she’d consider calling him a friend someday.
“What matters here is the walk you walk.”
Things in Night City are good, really good for her. There’s conflict and struggles along the way, she collects new scars. The bullet in Santa Domingo, a mantis blade catching her gut, wolvers skimming her back, and bit by a ganger with vampire mods just to name a few. Night City rattles and rolls her, some days she craves the clean air and open road of the Badlands. She’d be lying if she said otherwise. But there’s an ease in the city, in the people she’s found that make it feel like another home.
She’s laughing and smiling more than she has ever before. V’s able to joke and play around, find a sense of humor and excitement in her life rather than just fear. She’s free to do her merc work, set her own rules and still make a mark. Her and Jackie are steadily carving their place into the ecosystem of the city. She’s showing her strength, her capability, her resilience. She’s not defective, she’s a merc on the rise, a couple fixers go to. She’s got money in her pocket; a roof and food she got with said money.
And she’s got a family, a real one, not made of blood but love. At least she loves them and she hopes they’ve managed to find something in her worth loving. In a dirty city of neon, she managed to find her place in this world, not where she expected but she’s exactly where she needs to be.
‘In Night City, the city of dreams!’
#cyberpunk 2077#cp2077#fem v#silverv#johnny silverhand#jackie welles#i hope its not disingenuous to tag johnny when he hasn't shown up yet#can you feel the sun?#aidan becker#aidan v becker
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