disrupts | NOCTIUM IC INBOX

Good cuz Johnny Silverfixer sounds gonk

You went shopping? Johnny if you're gonna ask me to carry your groceries or somethin I'm gonna say no

How ‘bout Johnny Fixerhand?

Just what the fuck would I go shopping with, V? I’m broke as shit, and that’s the problem. The solution is to fall back on what I know to undo that problem.

Just need the right tools to go about doing that. And I saw the perfect one hanging in a storefront window.

Take it back, your suggestion's worse

And here I thought you'd gotten used to barely any eddies riding around with my broke ass at the start there

You workin me over for a klep job? Didn't learn nothin all that time you literally were inside my head watching me do it huh?

Yeah except being broke here’s nearly worse than being secondhand broke in your head. You want me to pool together enough resources to find a way to fix your brain? Maybe even go home? Ain’t happening unless I have some extra spending money to work with.

Is it working? Not like you haven’t stolen a guitar before.

That what this is really about? Trying to fix me?

And I know but... last time my head wasn't this fucked even with you inside it

Christ, V. It’s also because I don’t wanna stand around with my dick in my hand.

Still. What, you think I was just gonna ignore your problem like we aren’t on a planet full of alien tech? And if you’re worried about how you’ll perform, who says you have to do it alone?

Didn't think you were gonna ignore it but

Yeah, okay. Probably not a nova idea to talk about it on these things til I figure out how the fuck to encrypt shit

Back at the house later

Fine. Talk the deets then.

[ Hours later and V's set up in the kitchen, his favorite room in the house. It's strange not living in a megabuilding, quiet in an unsettling way. His brain's already too quiet for his liking and spending time in the bustling city balanced out with getting above it all has filled a day that's now feeling long.

Bent over a counter, he's got his phone flat in front of him, various taps and swipes, and a murmured sound of curious bewilderment about all he's getting out of what he's doing.

He has no idea if anybody else is in the house, and maybe if he really thought about it he'd have to admit he's been close to avoiding both Kerry and Johnny the past few days. Not that he doesn't want to spend time with them - he does - he just can't shake the feeling that's been following him around. He can ask for help when he needs it, but there's a line between needing help and just being a burden. ]

[Though he’s flesh and blood now, as solid as they come, life as a digitized personality construct’s instilled a few habits hard to banish. Case in point: Johnny‘s presence in the kitchen, as though he had appeared out of thin air and fixed a lean against the wall like some kind of ornament.

Reality is not as interesting, of course; he walked in like any gonk off the street, ‘cept it seems like V was too distracted or enamored by the workings on his phone to really notice.

So when he speaks up, Johnny’s got his arms crossed, leaning a hip against the frame of the kitchen entrance like he owns the place.]

Got real meat in this place. You know that?

[You know, since food talk seems about right for the kitchen — even if there’s no hide nor hair of cooking going on.]

[ Honing stealth skills has been a life's work; getting good at slipping in and out of places unnoticed has been something he's worked on since he was a kid. And still Johnny's appearance feels a lot like the man's still a digital ghost. Straightening up and throwing a look over his shoulder, it's probably evident enough in V's eyes that he's been caught by surprise.

So much so that it takes him a second to remember to reply. It's not his fault that he's still trying to adapt to Johnny being a separate entity, but moments like this feel almost nostalgic already. ]

Uh-- yeah, I heard. Place got 'ganic food everywhere like it's not in short supply.

[ Which is bizarre to V, but more than that-- ]

Keep meanin' to give these to ya.

[ Digging into the pocket of his jeans, he drags out a packet of Morleys and holds them up with a lopsided grin tugging at the corners of his lips. ]

Arrived with 'em. 'cept they're probably crushed to shit.

[Johnny's eyes don't exactly light up from behind his shades, but he straightens himself from his lean against the wall, which might as well be the same thing.]

Well, shit.

[He steps forward, palm face-up as though expecting V to plop that pack down in his hand, fishing in his pocket with his free one for a lighter.]

Could've pulled them outta your ass and I wouldn't've complained. Guessin' a new body doesn't get rid of old habits [addictions] that easily.

Why'd I feel like I'm makin' a bad choice here?

[ There's a real vibe of giving candy to a baby and for a second V's wondering if there'd been a moment where Johnny could've quit because he wasn't addicted anymore. Smoking had never been his thing, always Johnny's. But a pack of Morleys that had survived the trip from their world to here must be made of strong enough stuff.

Johnny's palm might be turned upward but V keeps hold of the packet, green eyes narrowing because he's trying to figure this out. ]

Hey!

[Don’t deny a man his smokes, V. Johnny’s got an itch that needs scratching, and that palm turns into an impatient, beckoning gesture.]

My bad choice to make. Give ‘em here unless you want me all twitchy while we talk shop.

O-kay. Can't say you're not old enough to be makin' those gonk choices. [ Especially since he has his own body to trash now. ] Remind me what year you turned legal again?

[ Jeez, Johnny. Chill. He'll give you your damn nicotine sticks. Something he does with a smirk as he tosses the packet at Johnny's chest rather than placing it neatly where it's being demanded. ]

So - you gonna tell me 'bout this place or keep complainin'?

[The case hits his chest, the prizes inside shaking a little upon impact, but Johnny and his apparent old man reflexes are fast enough to catch it. He shakes one out and plucks it free with his lips, tucking the case away and prepping it with a light.

Smoking in the kitchen might be the biggest faux pas no matter which universe a guy hails from, but Johnny gives approximately as many fucks as he does for a lot of things (zero), and soon the cig’s lit and he’s taking a long drag of the thing, letting the smoke coil through his lungs.

His answer comes in the wake of a puff or two of smoke, looking something like a contended dragon.]

That mean you’re gonna agree to the job?

[ Only V could marvel for long, drawn out seconds that the packet actually hits Johnny's solid form. It's still a fucking novelty. Eventually he picks up the loose thread of conversation again, though his tone is a head-on collision of awe and rhetoric instead of the confidence he'd like to be portraying. ]

What self-respecting merc agrees to a gig 'thout the deets first?

[ Apparently this one, and they probably both know that, but V's holding on to his illusion of being able to say no for a handful of millisecs longer.

The truth is closer to the not-so-slow slide down towards whatever clusterfuck situation they're probably going to find themselves in. And it's more than just solid proof that they can vibe well enough together that's already made V's mind up for him.

Johnny's a friend and V doesn't leave his friends high and dry.

Rolling his eyes more at the realization that he's been in this since Johnny'd mentioned it rather than the smoke, he exhales heavily and hops up on a counter. If this is going to take a while to extract out of the man, he's going to sit his ass down. ]

Yeah. I'm in. Wanna send me in blind or do I get the whole story now?

One that I know isn’t gonna tell me no, anyway.

[Aha, he’s calling it like it is, because Johnny always does. But V’s got a point, and he wasn’t going to deny him the details anyhow, so he finds a place to sit — a rinky-dink seat at a stout kitchenette table, where he leans back as far as the chair will allow him.]

Tell ya what I know, but it’s not like exactly like we’re breaking into Arasaka. Just a regular ol’ storefront in one of the shopping districts downtown. I’ll text you the coordinates when we’re done.

[He waves a hand dismissively, like he can’t be assed.]

Name of the joint’s Be Major Music. [Clever music joke, Johnny appreciates it.] Didn’t see any security cams when I wandered in, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t some kind of system keeping the place in lockdown after-hours. Probably is, given the merch inside.

[Speaking of merch.]

One that’s caught my eye’s in the back, hanging up on a rack on the east wall. Hard to miss — fire engine red, looks just like a classic Fender Strat.

[He has no doubt V’s still harboring that secondhand knowledge of Johnny’s in his brain, just like Johnny’s got with V, too. But just in case his memory isn’t playing nice, he offers:]

I’d send you a pic of that, too, but there’s no point. Plan on goin’ with ya.

[ Staying quiet on the subject, all V's got for Johnny in return is a furrowed brow of concentration. Truthfully it's not the worst gig brief he's ever gotten, but the man doesn't need his ego massaged any more than he already has.

As Johnny's rounding it all off neatly by putting forward his plan of joining, V finally reacts. His eyebrows lift, surprise tugging his lips apart as he drags in air that's going to sound a lot like disagreement on the way back out again. ]

Thought that was a joke.

[ He's in two minds about the idea, though he's more than certain it's a statement of fact presented like an idea instead of an optional component of the plan. ]

Think that's a good idea?

[A brow eases its way over the rim of his shades, and Johnny deigns to lean back and take a long drag of his smoke before replying.]

You gonna tell me it’s not? Lemme hear it.

Nope. 'cause doesn't matter what I say, you're gonna do what you want anyway.

[ It's not an accusation, just a statement of fact. One delivered with a casual shrug of a shoulder and V's expression relaxing into something resigned. He's got other battles to pick over this one, and part of him's still not sure he trusts himself to do this well on his own.

What a fucked up position to be in; not trusting in his own skills to just do this one simple job without keeling over like a gonk. ]

Gonna take a wild guess 'n say Vik's face-scramblin' soft ain't gonna cut it here. Means we're gonna need gear to hide our faces.

[ Though the more he talks, the more he slides into work-mode. After-hours means less risk in the way of anybody getting hurt, but extra security measures to deal with he's not actually sure he can hack into and power down. Not to mention he's already seen the softer end of the Diamond's version of reprimanding gembonded who step out of line if they somehow get involved. ]

Notice any access points we could use? Back office window? Anythin'?

Glad you know me so well.

[A statement of fact, indeed. But Johnny keeps on talking, like it's nothing.]

Figured as much. Don't need anything fancy; figured a mask might have some flair to it, though.

[As flippant as Johnny sounds, it's a sincere suggestion. Next to V, who's sliding into experienced-merc-mode, he'll let him take the reins even if he acts otherwise. Johnny taps his organic fingers against the table, rat-a-tatting idly.]

Went 'round the back. No window, but there's a door. Non-descript, but probably harder to get in through than the front. Though- [a casual lean forward] -when I was in there, noticed there was a skylight right in the center.

[He gestures up, like he's expecting V to imagine the store's ceiling.]

Just big enough for a man to slip in, if you're hopin' to break a window instead of messin' with a lock to a door out back.

[ Quirking his eyebrows at the suggestion he knows Johnny, V's brain supplies the answer. Except seconds later he remembers that thinking answers doesn't work anymore. The moment passes and he's adrift on the feeling of feeling around the edges of that void inside him again.

Johnny's gesture upward tugs him back to the present, and his gaze lifts with it until he realizes that there's nothing to see here. Call it a habit; maybe he's always this suggestible, or maybe it's just because he can't help trying to live Johnny's words like he used to.

The skylight would be a good backup if he can't pry the door at the back open with his chromed up hand. More risk but when have either of them ever been risk-averse? ]

All right. Gonna leave it to ya to find us masks.

[ Something he might in fact live to regret but whatever. ]

Skylight's good intel. Backup for the door 'round the back. Last thing we need is you twistin' a geriatric ankle dropping down from a height.

[ Shooting Johnny a smirk as he slides off the counter top, V crosses the floor to drag out another of the chairs from the small table and sits on it, both hands resting on top of the flat surface. And then he's using it to almost map out a plan with his fingers. ]

So - we try the back door. Failin' that the skylight. Gonna need to make sure you can get back out if we gotta drop in from above.

[ Less of a problem for V since his legs are still heavily augmented with cyberware to make his jump far beyond the usual ability of humans. ]

You're gonna get the masks. I'll find the rope.

[ And then he pauses, hesitating slightly. ]

Gonna say I'm hopin' we don't run into anybody. But if we do... no iron, Johnny. Nobody gets hurt. Not over an axe.

[His smile stretches a little wider at the corners at the mention of masks, and the fact that he’s gonna get to choose. Does that bode well? V’ll find out eventually.]

I’ve already got somethin’ in mind. You’ll love it.

[And he’ll leave it at that, letting V map out the plan on the kitchen table. It’s simple enough — definitely not as complicated as some of the other job’s he’s pulled while Johnny rode shotgun in his brain, but then again, this is just a guitar. Nothing particularly sensitive, or criminal, or in need of discretion; a veritable smash and grab, though hopefully the “smash” part’s a lot less quiet.]

Not gonna sprain shit. You could always just be a hero an’ catch me.

[Princess-style. That is, of course, a joke. The rest of it isn’t.]

V, I’m not gonna zero somebody over a fuckin’ guitar. Jesus. Might feel compelled to knock ‘em out if it suits me, but don’t worry. I won’t be packing anything — don’t got anything to pack.

[ Honestly, V doubts he'll love it but giving Johnny something to do if he wants to tag along's something he's learned helps. The plan's so basic V's starting to feel more confident about it. 'Keep it simple, stupid' rattles around in his skull, something he heard a lot when he was a young nomad learning the ropes.

Catching Johnny, or the idea of it at least, lights his features up in amusement. It's so far-fetched that he'd have anything but a spitting rockerboy in his arms that he laughs. ]

Know I'd catch ya. Want me to haul ya over my shoulder too, make it real convicing?

[ But he doesn't linger on the gentle teasing for too long, the fact Johnny's not got any means of defending himself here something that sticks. ]

Wasn't sayin' you would. Just...

[ Shaking his head, he doesn't know what exactly he's getting at other than this place doesn't seem like Night City. No reason not to be prepared, but he just doesn't want to be the source of somebody else's pain - or death - if he can help it. ]

Got somethin' you can have if you ever need it. 's upstairs.

[ A shotgun he'd arrived with. The gun Kerry'd given him's up there too. And a baseball bat. But giving Johnny an idea of where he can find iron if he needs it makes him feel a little better. ]

So - we good?

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