Chapter Text
“When I was in here the first time, we had to pull a memory from you. Somethin’ with Alt, right? You got one in mind?” The vast void of the Net was around them, and Johnny somehow managed to find the one chair to sit on, backwards of course, never sitting on anything in its proper way. Talking to Alt was the final step in getting something solid to bring to Rogue, and when V plugged in from her own home setup there was no Alt there to greet them. They’d been down this road before, though, and if the Voodoo Boys couldn’t automatically get Alt to come out, she didn’t think she could either.
“You even know how that was done? How to try and jump into one of my memories?”
V snorted, hand on her cocked hip as she looked down at him. “That’s your concern here? Not ‘hey V, might be thinkin’ this data fortress ain’t too secure’ or ‘don’t you think you’re gonna get your gonk brain fried’?” Was her Silverhand impression good? In terms of voice pitch and accent, no. But, she could pick out his exact words like they were her own.
“Nah, see I’m used to dealin’ with crazy chicks,'' tapping the side of his temple then pointing to V, he wore that typical, wicked smirk, “they think of all the ways to get somewhere, but never what to do when they actually arrive at the destination. ‘Sides, you’re no seasoned Netrunner, but you’re not green. And you’ve got Judy standin’ watch. Dunno what some whore lovin’ Mox is gonna do if – when – things go wrong, but at least she can try. So, tell me. How you plan on doin’ this?”
Rolling her eyes, V just ignored the first bit, knowing well he was partly correct and partly being a huge dick as always. “Brigitte didn’t really say much in the way of givin’ me instructions on how she conjured up the memories, but I remember the feelin’, if that makes sense. Some kinda bridge from me to Alt, using your memories and the Deep Net to connect us all. Said I was somethin’ special, and she’s not wrong. Not many people could get us this far.”
“Ha! You sure ‘bout that? Tellin’ you, losin’ yourself pretty damn quick if you’re thinkin’ you’re somethin’ more than some loser that got dragged outta the landfill. But, sure, you keep tellin’ yourself that.”
“Fuck off, asshole. Anyway, she enhanced the connection between us, but that was back before we were so...” V waved her hand in front of her, gesturing vaguely, not quite sure what words to use to describe what they were now. “Us? Together? Uhhh...”
“’Fore I ripped out the parta you that makes you separate from me.” He seemed sad about that fact, even if V reaffirmed that there wasn’t much in the way he could do to prevent that. That she was the one letting it happen, just in case things didn’t work out the way they hoped. Closure for the dead, and some reassurance for the living.
“Either way, we’re more connected now. She grabbed my head. Did somethin’ to me to make me feel a strong memory – one associated directly with Alt. Like searching a database of keywords. So, I’ll ask again. Got one in mind?”
Johnny rose from the chair, walking over to V, arms crossed over his chest. “Maybe. Be honest with ya, it was probably my strongest memory of Alt, anyway. Already lived it. Think another strong memory might do, even if it ain’t about her?”
Thinking on it, there wasn’t much to say it wouldn’t. But, V wanted to be safe, be sure they actually contacted Alt. “Maybe? The whole reason was to convince Alt that it was the real you on the chip, but if you recall anything she wasn’t directly involved with it might prove a little difficult. Anyone can produce a Silverhand memory – your whole life was one performance after another. Shit, if I wanted I could just look up all the information I needed to craft an entire story based on you set after the events of 2013 and Alt would be none the wiser. Gotta be one of her, okay?”
Foot tapping the floor of the Net, eyes looking anywhere but at her, Johnny was clearly thinking of something, anything, with Alt. “Alright. Take ya back to when he first met. Just gimme a minute to try and remember it. How it all began.”
“Sure, alright. Take some time, but not too much, don’t wanna hang in that tub longer than I have to.” Pacing around Johnny as he sorted through all his memories, V felt a tingle behind her ear. Reaching back, she touched the port that the Relic sat in, the feeling radiating from there. The Net made everything feel so different, so strange, and she didn’t recognize the telltale signs of a malfunction until it was too late, everything in the Net glitching out, her whole body alight with the sensation of needles poking holes through every nerve. Legs giving out, constructed body seizing, she started to fall. Clinging to what she could, she called out, a habit now that the Relic was corroding more and more of her brain. “J-Johnny!”
“V!” Johnny’s hands grabbed her head before it hit whatever was constructed as a floor, and the moment his hands touched her the entire world spun. “V! Get it together!” Words that reached her, but she was already in a trance, her mind searching through Johnny’s memories as it had before, transporting her back in time, Johnny’s words triggering the whole sequence. Wherever she woke up, she at least hoped it would be enough to call out the real Alt.
Dazed, drawn out of her own mind, V saw the blue and red of the Net fading into the reality of whatever version of Night City Johnny created. On the street, she was outside of a club, and she figured that this was where Johnny would be playing a show, no other reason she saw to even be outside of one. It was routine at this point, any time she slipped into a memory, just waiting for things to start making sense - move on their own. Reaching in the pocket of the pants she was in, she expected to find a pack of cigarettes, knowing if Johnny was outside, he was outside to smoke. Not finding what she was looking for, she just sucked her teeth, because of course that gonk would forget his own cigarettes. Going through what seemed like a Johnny motion, she tapped a guy on the shoulder as he passed by. “Got a cig I can bum?”
Something wasn’t right. That wasn’t Johnny’s voice that spoke. It wasn’t Johnny’s hand that tapped the guy’s shoulder. She was shorter than this guy, who she knew was average height. As he handed her the cigarette, she thanked him, looking around to take it all in. Her body was her own, typical outfit and everything, tags from Johnny hooked around one of the belt loops of her shorts, fingers adorned with long nails and rings so very different from Johnny’s. However this happened, whether it be the Relic or some mistake on either one of their parts when jacking into the Net, V was stuck somewhere that wasn’t her version of Night City.
Trying to find clues, she couldn’t exactly place where she was in the city, but the cars and tech looked older. It had to be somewhere in Johnny’s timeline, but why she was able to move around freely she didn’t quite grasp. When living out Johnny’s memories the events and their order were already set, everything exactly how it happened, or close to it. She wasn’t given free range of things, minus being the one who willed the actions on, but the world would move on as it did, nothing changed in the present. There wasn’t the sense that things would work out better or different, just that they would happen. A rail shooter, where the only thing that was different each time was the score at the end.
Now? She could walk down the street as V, not Johnny. Evident by the cigarette in her hand, people saw her, could talk to her. Touch her. Respond appropriately to requests.
It wasn’t out the realm of possibility that somehow their little fuck up caused time travel, but she highly doubted it. If one could do that most corps would already be altering the past. Though, the more she thought about it, the more she realized that was a possibility, but that no one knew due to the butterfly effect, and she was one of the lucky ones unaffected. So this had the potential to fuck up everything in the future if she took one more step.
However, the more likely answer is that somehow she and Johnny were put into a simulation of an older Night City, built entirely from his memories. How deep could a simulation go, who could say, but this is a woman and her construct that was helping this along, so whatever simulation this was certainly could be something realistic enough.
The other possibility is that she was Johnny, just her brain superimposed her own image over his, the Relic not processing the data entirely correct. One way to find anything out, whether this was time travel, a simulation, or a fuck up, was to stroll into that club and find out what the fuck was going on. Moving forward, she pushed open the doors, early enough in the evening for the place to be sparsely populated, but enough so that she didn’t immediately draw attention. Leaning over the bar, V cleared her throat, grabbing the attention of the bartender.
“Hey, choomba. Humor me for a minute, will ya?” The man just nodded, not really batting an eye at her. Bad sign. Most people when they saw Johnny had some kind of reaction, be it adoration or anger. “Lemme ask you, how uh...How’s my hair look?”
“Fuckin’ shoot me,” dramatic eye roll, glass he was drying slammed down, and V had a finger shoved in her face, “Look, bitch, I know there’s a Silverhand performance later tonight, but I’m not gonna tell you whether or not he’d fuck you. Don’t matter how much merch you got, sweetheart, you’re ugly as sin. So ghost or else I’ll have someone throw you out.” Answers a lot of her questions, including that she was correct in assuming he was playing a show. Apologizing for her abrupt request, she pushed off the bar, looking around, trying to find some clues as to what time period this was.
Posters on the wall said that Johnny and Kerry were performing as a double ticket, the date given being March 30th, 2013. This placed her right before Alt’s death, his downward spiral already underway. Issues with Kerry, lost glory days of Samurai, drug abuse, and not to mention he and Alt were on the rocks so bad they’d be done in about fifteen days and she’d be dead right after they ended it. Johnny told her once that this was the nightmare he had that plagued him, the one that made him sweat, never forgetting a single detail. Including the month leading up to it. Fuck. Of course they landed right in the middle of this, why wouldn’t they? Couldn’t have been back in 2004 when he was living his best life. Nope. Had to be now.
Two heads were better than one, and if she thought hard enough she might try and find where he was stored away. Likely guess, he would be backstage, waiting for the whole show to begin. 2013 Johnny couldn’t be trusted to show up on time, and if Kerry was involved Johnny was likely here hours early. Meaning that if this simulation had rules, and it surely did, Johnny would likely appear in his own body. Sneaking into the back of the bar, skilled at finding ways through even the tightest security (which this dive did not have). Each door was labeled, and the one that said “Johnny Silverhand” was in plain view in front of her. Pushing the door open, she found him, sitting there on the couch with his head rested on the back, eyes closed. Target acquired, V sighed in relief, knowing she wouldn’t be alone.
“Johnny! Fuck! What is going on? Somethin’ went seriously fucky in the Net, and now we’re stuck in -”
“I’m sorry, who the fuck are you?”
Brows knitted, V took a closer look at Johnny. The simulation made him look younger, like he really was the Johnny from this time period, likely meaning V didn’t look exactly like V either. She was familiar enough with this version of him, having seen it through his memories, less weathered yet more worn down. It wasn’t likely that Johnny ever saw a younger V, if that was even her form.
“You jokin’? It’s V...ya know. V.” Hand waving over her body, his face just scrunched up, then relaxed, shrugging his shoulders. “Chick whose brain you live inside of? Closest to you by a long shot - your words, not mine by the way. Tell me you love me each night ‘fore we go to bed.” He just laughed at her, loud, booming, and cold.
“Oh you’re fuckin’ whacked. Spin around.” Swirling his finger in front of him, he had that shit eating grin on his face, and V was starting to suspect something was off. But, she did as she was told, maybe Johnny’s way of trying to see if she was the real V. Dressed in shorts, he could see the ink on the back of her legs as well as a scar she obtained during their search for a cure for her little Relic problem. All things that could identify her.
“Shit, don’t normally stick my dick in crazy, but fuck it. You’re exactly my type. Nice ass, nova tits, even dressed like a preem joytoy. Likin’ the Samurai tank - not a bad look. Ain’t got nothin’ to lose here. Just lemme get prepped,” quick as the words left his mouth, V saw him lean forward, pouring the contents of a little baggy on the side of his hand, bringing it to his nose and snorting. Pit forming in her stomach, V let out a shaky breath, things becoming more and more dicey by the second.
“Uh, not here to sleep with you, dickwipe. Definitely not here, not now. You gonna clear that gonk brain of yours and talk to me normally or what? ‘Cause I’m not here to play games. Somethin’ went wrong, and we need to leave this timeline like now.” Closer he got to her, the more she felt afraid, unsure of what he was thinking. Boxing her in against the wall with his arms, face close to her, she tried her hardest to keep a straight face, not show that she was absolutely terrified of this version of Johnny.
“Fuck you really are whacked. This fuck better be worth it, ‘cause I need to let a little steam off ‘fore the show. Shit, tail good enough and I’ll let you hang back here ‘til I’m done performin’ for another round.” Oh fuck. She needed to remind him. Jog his memory somehow, because fuck she wasn’t liking this.
Grabbing his face between her hands, V spoke loud and clear. “I’m not here to fuck you! It’s not happenin’! Johnny! Are you serious, you don’t know who I am?”
Snarled lips and heavy breathing, metal hand digging into the wall behind her while the other grabbed her hair, pulling it, he was pissed and she was the thorn in his side. “Am I supposed to, bitch!? No one just sneaks back here to talk. Either we’re fuckin’ or you’re outta here.”
Something, anything, V needed to find a reminder that might get him to remember her - convince this Johnny she was the real V like they had to do with Alt. Removing her hands from his face, she undid the tags on her belt loop, holding them up for him to see. “Pistis Sophia! You brought me to the Pistis Sophia after I seized up in the parking lot of a motel! Asked me to take these tags as proof of your promise to exchange your life for mine! Asked me if I would take a bullet for you! That ring any bells, Johnny!?” Frantic, her voice cracked as she yelled in his face, his own becoming further enraged, body shaking as he looked at the tags.
Hand still in her hair, he slammed her head against the wall, trying to wrestle the tags from her grip. “Know too fuckin’ much! Who the fuck you work for!? Start talkin’!” Head still slammed into the wall, V had been here before, violence begetting violence each time they met. “I’ll fuckin’ kill you! Break your fuckin’ fingers!” A threat he might actually follow through on, his grip so much stronger than hers, V holding onto those tags for dear life as his fingers tried to pry them from her.
“I don’t work for anyone! Jesus fuckin’ Christ man! I’m not an agent! I’m V!” Kneeing him in the balls, he let go of her hair and hand, giving V time to stash the tags in her back pocket before he was up again, likely not feeling the impact for very long. Grip on her shoulders, he threw her onto the table in the middle of the room, bottles devoid of alcohol and injectable drugs falling to the floor as she landed. Leg connecting with his stomach, she got him to the ground, pinning him there for a minute. “Listen to me! Somethin’ went wrong and I need you to fuckin’ remember who I am so that we can contact Alt and delta the fuck outta here!”
Wrong move. V could see his whole face change into that of a man possessed, throwing her to the ground next to him, punching her face in the same way he punched that slimeball reporter he’d be contacting in a month’s time. If this simulation didn’t make V look like V, Johnny’s blows certainly weren’t going to help. Her own punch connecting to his face weakly, he just landed one last punch before pulling his hand away, and she figured Johnny might actually kill her this time, reaching back behind him to where his Malorian sat, always near him and always loaded. Cold metal pressed to her temple, she screamed, unable to stop herself, scared out of her mind, only stopping when she heard another voice.
“Johnny! Holy hell man! Get offa her! You gonna go to fuckin’ jail for poppin’ some groupie!? That what you want!?”
Last thing she saw before he pistol whipped her was Kerry dragging Johnny off her, and she made a mental note to thank Kerry the next time she saw him. If she saw him again. Eyes closed, she wasn’t fully out, just lying there limp on the floor, feeling like she was below water. Above her, Kerry kept yelling at Johnny, and Johnny kept yelling back, rehashing the whole five minute affair, repeating to Kerry that V had his tags and wanted to get to Alt.
Their set was fast approaching, so the best thing to do, according to Kerry, was to dump her outside the club and hope to hell she didn’t press charges. Body thrown in the back alley, she heard Johnny reel back to spit on her, the glob landing right over her eye. Because throwing her body into the open air of Night City wasn’t insulting enough.
Pain finally setting in full force, V had to will herself to sit up and act conscious enough not to get picked up by Scavs she was certain were still around more than sixty years in the past. If she let it get the best of her, she really would be knocked out cold. Getting out of the alley was what she needed to do first, picking herself up off the ground and trudging her way to the curb outside of the club. Sitting there, she just tried to think of anything but her fucked up face and ego.
What a damn stupid idea it was to try and talk to Johnny in this world. Of course he wouldn’t be her Johnny. How damn fucked up was she? Simulation or not, she was the only one who ever got transported into his past, just now she had her own body - a body that meant nothing to him. Feeling around, she wasn’t even surprised to find that the tags were missing, taken from her when she was thrown out like trash yet again. God she messed up big time, and now she had to figure out how to leave this version of Johnny’s life all on her own.
At least she got to listen to the muffled sounds of a Kerry Eurodyne show, the guy performing his heart out. It was funny to think that he was ever the opening act for anything, such a huge name in her time. But, everyone had to start somewhere, and his starting point was playing second fiddle to the megalomaniac that was Johnny Silverhand.
Fuck she missed her Johnny.
Missed the fact that right about now he’d be smoking next to her, telling her each way she fucked up and each way they could try and fix it. Instead, her only companion was a weight in her chest and her bloody face. Music was nice, though, taking her mind off the pain. Set change happening, she wasn’t surprised there were some people leaving the venue, Kerry already having a dedicated fanbase. Person after person left in taxis, gushing about how talented the guy was. That made her smile, short lived and cut off by a sharp hiss, skin torn and still bleeding.
Eventually, the flow of people stopped, Johnny’s angry screaming coming in louder than Kerry’s melodic voice. She wasn’t even sure why she was still sitting out here, knowing well that it would serve her no good, but she also didn’t know where to go. This wasn’t her time, and she sure as hell wasn’t in a place she could easily navigate. Couldn’t rent a room at a hotel to stay in - her eddies no good here. Her holo couldn’t connect to any network here, too advanced for the primitive tech of this time. Fuck, she didn’t even know a proper hole to crawl into for the night. At least she still had the cigarette from the guy, a lighter still left in her front pocket. Lighting it, she just continued to sit and smoke until she could smoke it no more.
“Need another?” Recognizing that voice, V just shrugged, not really needing to look at who she considered a friend. He had a kind soul deep down, even for someone his best choom was just tearing into.
“Nah, I’m alright Ker - you know I don’t really smoke that much.” Shit, not her Kerry. “Sorry, Kerry, that was weird. And don’t worry. Won’t press charges on Johnny. He’s a fuckin’ asshole, but I’m,” she cleared her throat, not wanting to give too much away, “Shoulda known not to poke a bear snortin’ somethin’.” Should have gone with her gut when he seemed off the first time.
He sat down beside her on that curb, smoking something wrapped in paper. Weed? Likely weed. “Eh, probably. But he did a real number on you, and fuck if I know how hard that man can hit. Watched him take down a fuckin’ roided up body builder. Surprised you’re even up and walkin’. Checked the alley first, thinkin’ you’d be back there. Thought you got carted off.”
V snorted, hiding her smirk with her hand. “I can hold my own.” Not like she hadn’t tangled with Johnny before anyway. “‘Sides, I’m not your problem. Don’t gotta worry ‘bout me. Like I said, I ain’t gonna mess with him.”
“Sure, sure. Alright,” he rose from the curb, and V turned her head to look at him, his troubled face staring down at her. “You, uh...you from around here?”
“Sorta. Long story.”
“And you know Johnny?”
“Could say I know a version of Johnny, yeah.”
He started tapping his thigh, still looking at her like he was debating something. “How do ya know him?”
“‘Nother long story. Not like it would make too much sense anyway. Just to help put some pieces together, could say Alt introduced us as a reeeally simple explanation.” Partly true, given that if Alt hadn’t made Soulkiller they wouldn’t have been placed together in the first place. And she was here in some attempt to contact the woman.
“Fuuuuuuck, okay. Might get me killed, but," rubbing his face, he handed V a keycard. “Hotel across the street, room 545. Stay there tonight. Supposed to be my room, but I’ll just sleep in Johnny’s. Know I’m gonna end up in there anyway, beggin’ him not to run off with some broad since Alt’ll find out.”
Inspecting the keycard, V tried her best to look confused, her battered face making that a little hard. “Why? You don’t know me…”
“You’re right - I don’t. Never fuckin’ seen you in my life. And, for the record, I think you’re outta your damn mind worse than Johnny. But,” he pulled out another blunt, lighting it, “have this weird feelin’ like I owe you somethin’. Like you and I know each other real well, even though I haven’t seen your face before.”
“You bein’ serious?” His nod in confirmation of that made hope bloom in her chest. If Kerry knew her deep down, then maybe Johnny did too. These weren’t the versions of the people she knew, but at least something here still connected them all. A red string that tied them all.
“Thanks, choom. I owe you one. Promise, I’ll pay you back.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just clean up your face so you don’t scare people. Kinda hard to look at.” Walking back into the venue, V just smiled, happy that she had a safe place to sleep for the night. The place across the street was pretty nice, and she expected it to be pretty expensive to boot. Better not stain the towels.
Room 545 unlocked, she stepped inside, going into the bathroom and began working on washing her face, Johnny really having fucked it up. But the mirror gave her confirmation that she looked like her, not any other version. The worst was the right side under and around her eye, likely going to take the longest to heal, a piece of skin torn right open. Nothing to patch it with, she had to suck it up and use one of the towels, leaving it there to hopefully act as makeshift gauze until she could get her hands on something better. She hoped to hell that her body in the real version of Night City didn’t look this bad, giving Judy a heart attack. Shit, if Johnny wasn’t here with her, he was likely out there as well, helpless as he watched her struggle.
Sleep would do her some good. She only had the room for the night, and dammit she was going to use it to its fullest. Lying down, she closed her eyes, hoping for a full night’s sleep before she returned the keycard and was ejected back out into Night City.
On a list of unlucky things, V might be above walking under ladders and black cats. Rude awakening if she ever got one, someone slapped her across the face, cold metal back on her temple. “Wake up. We have some questions for you.”
Groaning, V knew that voice. Bastard called in Rogue.