disrupts | NOCTIUM IC INBOX

[Clumsy fingers splay against his face, almost comedic. Johnny tilts his head away, squinting the one eye just a half-centimeter from being jabbed. His gem ebbs and flows with its crimson glow, and he knows exactly just what the other man must be trying.]

Don’t be sorry.

[His own hand comes up to gracelessly swat V’s away. The synchrony halts with the connection severed.]

You weren’t yourself. [He looks down at the merc, face not only marred with burgeoning bruises and blood, but now the grime of a man that’s been squatting in an abandoned factory for god knows how long. Thanks for that.] But you are gonna be sorry if you try that again. You don’t got the manna to spare, and you’re tryin’ to heal? If I went through all this trouble just so you could turn into a rock, I really will kick your ass.

[ Lacking the energy to do much at all about his hand being shooed away like an annoying fly, V's arm flops uselessly somewhere above his head. He takes Johnny's point with relative understanding. Probably would deserve an ass-kicking if he turned into a rock now. There's something of a sluggish quality to his entire presentation, sprawled out still in the position he fell, pretty much. And his brain's working that way too, as though it's slowly checking, testing, launching different areas.

It's why, after a few minutes of just breathing and staring up at nothing in particular, V groans seemingly without any kind of provocation. That'd be his longer-term memory organizing itself better than it's been for months. Post-Mikoshi, his new apartment, Kerry, the Crystal Palace...

It's not done yet; the Ruby Underground - fear, the house - Kerry, a dark, dirty alley - Dorian, the sting in his knuckles - Vincent. Everything he said to Johnny, every tiny detail clear like it's being illuminated in neon and hung on the side of a building. ]

What the fuck've I done?

[ It's a rhetorical question; he knows what he's done and to who. Creeping in like dark tendrils is the guilt entwined with the memory of being held down in the first place so the chip could be removed from his head without it getting damaged. Being tossed like trash after... ]

Shit. What the fuck have I done?

[In those empty minutes where V’s mind is trying to gather up the pieces of lost memory, Johnny takes it as a much-needed reprieve. He shifts his weight, digs in a pants pocket for a pack of cigarettes — what he pulls out is a pack that looks squished and flattened to practically the point of being 2D. Figures.

Then comes V’s groan, as though mirroring his dissatisfaction, though the merc definitely has a lot more to be dissatisfied with.]

Hey.

[Frowning, Johnny tosses the pack aside with the rest of the surrounding detritus.]

Nothin’ that you can blame yourself for. [Here comes the guilt, come to swallow V up. He knows without a doubt it’s going to happen, no matter what he says. But he’s going to say it anyway.] When I said you weren’t yourself, I meant it. Missing part of your neural network meant parts of your personality were AWOL. You weren’t V. Just some incomplete version of you.

Anyone with half a shred of decency, who cares about the hell you’ve been through, will understand it. Will forgive you for it. Fuck ‘em if they don’t.

Edited 2021-06-19 02:37 (UTC)

[ Levering himself up to sit is an effort that shouldn't feel so difficult, but between his depleted energy and the weight of that guilt sitting heavy in his chest, it is. His head drops forward into both hands, fingers scrunching into his hair like he wants to rip it out. He doesn't, but his entire body is tense, so tense he's shaking.

These memories he's got are the antithesis of who he tries to be, of who he wants to be. They're cold, doused with fear and loathing, and though he's got the context now to understand all the rage and terror he was feeling was a result of getting jumped in the way he did, just because it makes sense doesn't mean he can make peace with it. ]

No, I fuckin'...

[ Confessed more than he thought he meant to, peppered it with some displaced anger at his situation. He struck where his brain'd told him would hurt the worst. ]

Johnny, I don't fuckin' blame ya for any of what happened at home.

[ It'd be like blaming a knife for stabbing him, or a gun for shooting him. Dropping a hand from his head, his optics flick to Johnny next to him so fast it almost makes him feel dizzy. Fingers grip around Johnny's wrist again, the Synchrony kicks in immediately, and though it's overwhelming as fuck all over again, V's aching so much over this he forces himself to speak. ]

Tell me you know that's not how I feel 'bout it, or you.

[V’s touch is akin to a vice, he’s so tense. It conflicts with the dizzying, complete kind of pleasure from the Synchrony, but Johnny can practically taste the kernel of guilt wheeling around in there, too. His look at the other man is steadier, countenance tired and darkening with a serious consideration.]

‘Course I know that’s not how you really felt. It wasn’t how you really felt when I was still a part of you, and I didn’t believe you could have a change of heart just like that.

[This doesn’t feel like the time or the place for this conversation, but V seems desperate to drive this point home, and Johnny can only deny his revelation so much. The grasp on him is still shaking.]

Won’t say that what you claimed was technically wrong, though — bein’ the reason you were dying. Why you still are. And I know it isn’t my fault, either, but if you tell me I’m not allowed to feel anything about it, I’m about to call you a hypocrite, so don’t waste your breath.

[His free hand reaches out, resting its weight on V’s shoulder.]

You gotta rest. Somewhere that isn’t a shithole of a factory. You can sort through everything else later.

[ Maybe Johnny has a point; it'd be almost funny if the man was able to level an accusation of hypocrisy considering all things. The hand at his shoulder is steadying, an anchor to stop his thoughts completely taking off, and slowly V exhales.

Rest sounds like what he needs, but it doesn't sound like what's going to make things right. Exhaustion rolls off him like thick clouds, everything feels heavy even sitting down, and it's hardly like Johnny got off light with what just happened either. ]

You don't know everythin' I did.

[ It's a guilty, quiet statement. One that's saturated with shame. The idea that he'll get any rest at all despite how bone tired he is doesn't seem realistic. How can he just go home and sleep when he knows there's other people he hurt still out there probably hurting. Truthfully, even if he tried to explain what happened it likely won't make any sense, not when he's languishing in a weariness that's addling at best.

Seeming to at least see Johnny's point and extending the man the basic fucking courtesy of not ruining all the effort he went to in order to get to this point, eventually he sighs. ]

Okay.

[Johnny huffs a little at that admission, the kind of noise with the humor wrung out of it. He gives V’s shoulder a squeeze, barely-there.]

I can use my imagination. [He just has to apply the way V was acting to an encounter with his friends or acquaintances; probably were just as surprised and concerned as Johnny, except the rockerboy has seemingly thicker skin than most.] But if it’s any consolation, your worst day probably still didn’t compare to some of my worst days, decades past. And your chooms are probably fine with forgivin’ you. So.

[Here, with a grand effort, Johnny pushes himself to his feet, stranding up straight in a display of dark leather and grime, strands of hair displaced and hanging in his face.]

Ain’t so bad, V. I’m just glad you’re all right now.

[He extends a chrome hand to help him to his feet.]

C’mon.

[ V almost counters with the deeply held belief that none of them are just his chooms. They're his family, the ones he chose. That applies to Johnny too. Neither of them chose to be catapulted into each other's lives like they were, but here V is trusting Johnny more deeply than anybody else.

He looks up at the proffered hand and only hesitates briefly before reaching up to clasp, fingers wrapping around Johnny's forearm to at least make that connection a solid one. At least, as stable as either of them have strength for. ]

Gonna at least give you a couple days 'fore I complain 'bout you bein' stubborn.

[ It's a pale, underdeveloped attempt at some fond banter. Though it's probably not that hard to see what's going on underneath. The way V's eyes widen unseeingly as though he's imagining what would've happened if Johnny hadn't been such a doggedly determined stubborn asshole. Who else could have pulled this off for him? He's not sure he knows that answer, but the part of him that realizes they need to leave this decrepit, incredibly unsafe safe house has an immediate concern. ]

What happened? Where'd you find it? The relic, I mean. Did you... you find the people who jumped me?

[The remark’s enough to twist Johnny’s expression into a cocksure grin, still rimmed at the edges with tiredness, but existing all the same. He sounds vaguely amused with his reply.]

Couple of days? That’s a joke. How many times have I saved you now, huh? Startin’ to lose count, so I think you can’t complain about shit for at least a month.

[Johnny hanging that over someone’s head sounds exactly like something he’d do, except he doesn’t mean a word of it. He didn’t go out of his way to stick the chip back into V’s chipslot just to place an obligation around his neck like a millstone.

With V on his feet, Johnny waits and offers him a shoulder before they start moving towards the exit. He doesn’t expect the man to be all that steady after what he’s just been through; Johnny isn’t exactly a pillar of strength right now, either, but he can manage it just fine. Just maybe not at a particularly blazingly fast speed.

Gives him time to consider an answer, though. His face drifts back into seriousness, a sort of mild agitation that is only a sliver of the anger he had felt towards the gangers who did this to V.]

Did a lot of pokin’ around, had to trace your steps back to that night after you and the other V’s were done partying. Managed to find security footage of you gettin’ jumped by those bastards — saw everything that happened to you.

[His jawline hardens a tick, but he continues.]

After that? Did some asking around. Apparently their types have made trouble before, lookin’ to line their pockets. Asked Cloud if he wanted in on the action of getting the relic back once I got wind of them spendin’ one of their evenings at a local club, tryin’ to make a deal to sell it off. The rest is history. Those fuckin’ idiots… think they’re somethin’ big and scary, but didn’t take much to show them otherwise. We’ve seen it all before.

[Between Johnny and Cloud, it really was a joke. Left an impression on them, for sure.]

They won’t be botherin’ you again. Though I’d like to know how they knew about the chip at all — you tellin’ tall tales when you’ve got too much drink in your system?

Here? 'bout as many times as I've saved yours.

[ Not that V's actually counting, but for the most part he allows himself to sink into the comfort of back and forth. A familiar thing to draw over himself like a blanket.

There's only a few times on their way to the exit that V uses Johnny's shoulder; the amount of debris lining the floor only added to with their antics. Trip hazards are all over the place and, with heavy legs, V seems to find all of those snag points no matter how hard he's trying to focus.

As Johnny starts explaining, V's half-smile evaporates, and by the time Johnny's asking what he said about the chip, his forehead's drawn down into a frown. ]

Don't think so? I don't 'zactly remember doin' it but... I was buzzed. Sobered up pretty quick when they uh--

[ Since Johnny's seen what happened, he doesn't feel the need to describe. Explanation isn't necessary. ]

Why'd I be talkin' 'bout the relic to anybody?

[ Except... ]

Maybe we talked about it, me 'n the others. Between ourselves. Makes sense, I guess. Three of us have things in common when it comes to the relic.

[ And maybe, since of the three of them he's unable to handle more than a couple of drinks before he's affected by it, he'd seemed like the easier target. But this was all guesswork. V doesn't have a sharp recollection of everything he talked about that night. ]

Did you zero 'em?

Might wanna be more careful regardin’ the when and where the three of you decide to talk about intrusive, experimental tech that overwrites the mind and spirit.

[He says it about as dry as the desert, vaguely unimpressed. And he doesn’t even think it makes him that big of a hypocrite (this time), either. The only time he’s ever mentioned the relic to anyone here was recently, wrought in the vaguest details during his exchange with Dorian. Before that, Nanba. Never for others to overhear just because he’s feeling chatty.

But what’s done if done. V’s question colors his words a little darker, though so matter-of-fact that there’s no doubt he’d follow through if asked:]

Nah. Left them beaten and broken and bleedin’ out. They got as good as they gave and then some — made sure of it.

Need me to go back and finish it? I’d be lying if I said it wouldn’t make me feel good to do it.

[Johnny is a lot of things, and putting a bullet in more fatal places of the trash who’d made the bad call to hurt someone he cares about? Yeah, he’s not beyond it.]

[ There's a certain kind of irritation that flares up despite everything. As soon as it does though it's neatly extinguished. V can't exactly be irritated at Johnny for saying it, not about this. It was a gonk thing to do, and given the fact he was drunk as fuck at the time, he has no idea if he had any kind of volume control at all.

He made a mistake, and now he has to live with it.

So the comment is just met with a sheepish kind of nod, eventually, and then a sharp shake of his head at the question. ]

No.

[ V's also a lot of things, and most of the time he tries his best to opt for the least damage if he can help it. Some things need a certain response, sure, and he's got no regret for putting iron in people who don't seem to have a lick of remorse in them for doing shit that V knows is evil. Woodman was an example of that.

His answer's not for the sake of those gangers, though. No, this is real personal. ]

Plan on payin' 'em a visit myself.

[Somehow, that’s not all that surprising to hear, and Johnny has no real problem with the concept as a whole. You reap what you sow, as the saying goes, and those gangers were about to reap a cyber-enhanced merc with a score to settle.

There is the issue, though, of V needing some time to recover. And the fact that he just barely managed to save him, and now the kid’s already talking about throwing himself into trouble face-first again?]

A visit yourself, by yourself?

[V never really worked alone back in Night City before Mikoshi; he had a rebel rockerboy living in his head, at his side through thick and thin. He doesn’t see why that needs to change now.]

You cut me outta the fun, I’m gonna be pissed. Personal for me, too, you know. [He stayed his hand last time out of respect for simply not knowing what V would want to do with them. Now? Now’s another story.]

Not gonna cut you outta anythin'.

[ The state he's in now isn't exactly the form he'd hope to be in, but as soon as he's gotten his energy back he's not going to delay things too long. Generally he's not terrible at rising above, at chalking things up to some kind of lesson to learn from. But this, like Johnny said, is personal. Not because he got his ass handed to him, or because he'd suffered, but because of all the collateral damage.

And that collateral damage is like a stacking multiplier. V'd have hunted the gangers down if just one person he cared about got hurt. The way things stand? He's hurt almost everybody he cares about. He won't know what exactly he's going to do to those gangers until he's in the moment, but whatever it is he's going to make it hurt. ]

Just uh... need a day or so.

[ Probably more. Thing is, as much as he wants to go after these thugs, he's got other things to work on first. Apologies to make. People to check in on. That's always going to come first.

The exit of the warehouse is exactly as somebody might expect; a boarded up frame where a couple of doors used to exist. But one of the boards has been angled just enough to allow a triangle entryway. Stopping down to duck through that's not going to feel fun, but neither would trying to get out from the upper level by scaling down a wall or just flat out jumping. ]

How'd ya get here? [ It pains him to say it, but: ] don't think I can drive.

[A day or so fits squarely into the rest regimen that Johnny’s taken it upon himself to prescribe V in his head. A day or so, and then he doesn’t mind if the merc goes out with a grudge, looking for the guys that did this to him — as long as he gets a piece of the action, too, of course.

So there’s no retort from the rockerboy as they duck beneath an arm of plywood through the door, and he doesn’t reply until they’ve met the outside air. This isn’t a great part of town, but it’s still a relief to inhale a nighttime that hasn’t gone stale from dust and years of a building’s neglect.]

Dropped off. City’s got its own cab system, even if I got stuck with the slowest driver on this whole damn planet.

[One might imagine how that went. Johnny impatient, yelling at the guy to drive well above the speed limit because he’s got important work to do. He isn’t exactly a paragon of patrons.]

Gonna have to invest in a real set of wheels soon so I don’t feel like a teenager havin’ to ask mom and dad for a ride. [He scoffs, looking at V.] Unless you wanna walk all the way there, I figure we’d go back the way I came.

You can nap on the way over.

[ The problem with paranoia and trust issues is that sharing a confined space with anybody for any period of time becomes a non-starter. Getting a cab? V wouldn't have been able to do that before this, not when he'd been so sure that people were out to get him. It makes sense now why he'd been feeling that way, but before... he didn't have the ability to grasp on to what actually happened.

So it's almost sheepish the way he glances at Johnny - what kind of merc feels bad for stealing somebody's car? This one. The only saving grace is that the car was parked, nobody else around, and nobody got hurt when he relieved it from wherever its owner had left it. ]

Uh, might've jacked that one. [ He nods at the emerald green car sat half poking out of an alley running the side of the warehouse, traditional style by their own standards. ] By now it's prob'ly not a good idea to drive it back.

Cab's fine.

[ The sheepish gaze turns into something a little different, and he's just considering how soft the suggestion of a nap really is. He can even imagine it, sleeping in the back of a space he doesn't know but, if Johnny's around, maybe he doesn't need to worry. ]

[Eyes flick over to that emerald green ride poking out from an alleyway, and Johnny gets it in his mind that hell, why not drive it back? And maybe in other circumstances, he would've argued the point; would've gotten in there and drove the thing back, good idea or not, without having to rely on someone else to do it for him.

But V's in... precarious shape. Not really recovered, probably still raw from it all. He can see that sheepish look, can feel his brain turning over the idea of taking a cab as though it were running through Johnny's own mind. And he lets it go -- the man deserves some leeway, for things to go how he wants them to, for once.

Quirking a brow while he fishes for his communication device in a jacket pocket, hoping to call some mode of transportation to this shitty block-]

What's that look for then, huh?

Nothin'. Just wonderin' if you're gonna tuck me in 'n sing me a lullaby if I nap.

[ The humor is marred just a little by the way V's hand is pressed to his lower back, wince tugging the half-smile away from his features, like it's aching. Fuck, he feels old now. He'd ask Johnny if this is what he usually feels like - y'know, considering he's ancient - but the joking around's taken a back seat for now.

Quietly glad that it looks like Johnny's opting for the cab option he glances around briefly, checks their surroundings, before closing his eyes and stretching his neck as much as he dares. Everything feels like it wants to cramp up, but mostly he's just starting to feel the consequences of falling from the upper floor and landing on his back. ]

Feels like everythin' I missed out on the past couple weeks is hittin' me all at the same time. Didn't miss ya at all but now I can feel it.

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