disrupts | NOCTIUM IC INBOX

[ If questioned on it, V would resort to lying in order to pass off his proximity to Johnny as pure coincidence. Wound back a few blocks, he'd spotted the man walking somewhere and has been tailing him ever since. Thing is, without knowing there's something fucked up going on he's almost certain he still would have recognized the not-so-old not-so-rockerboy rockerboy. Whether that's true or not, they'll probably never know.

He does know something fucked up has happened though; Ker looks like he's been pulled fresh out of one of Johnny's memories and has no idea who he is.

What V does know is that he's been staring, not exactly a subtle kind of stake out, and right as he's about to go pat Johnny on the shoulder, to strike up some kind of conversation to figure out what's up, Johnny does that for him.

It leaves him with his hand hanging awkwardly in the air, lips parting because he knows he should say something but there's nothing that sounds right in his head. ]

Uh. Yeah? Maybe.

[ Smooth. So smooth that he finally tears his eyes away from the familiar face without all the experience that usually goes with it and has the good grace to shake his head at himself. V doesn't know where the curiosity ends and the concern starts; it's all one big ball of what the fuck? ]

Johnny?

[There’s no visible reaction to the name, not even enough to completely pry his focus away from the performers crescendoing their music to the climax. In fact, it’s only because Robert feels the almost-staring gaze latched onto his profile that he manages a glance away from the street band and askance at V.

Eyebrows raise a little, and he looks in the opposite direction for the other guy this man must surely be talking to. No one there. Turning back to glance at him, the look of expectation is even clearer.]

Uh— [Awkward.] —no? You got me mixed up for someone else, choom. I’m new here.

[Johnny gives him a once-over. Older man, visible tats, some pretty advanced cyberware work done just from what he can see from his hands alone. Interesting; looks like a guy with a story, though he could say that about nearly everyone here.

Regardless, doesn’t seem familiar to him.]

You lost or somethin’?

[ The brief trade of words tells V volumes about the sitch. For starters, Johnny's like Kerry; doesn't remember who he is. That'd smart more if V wasn't already trying to figure this puzzle out. He's clinging on to the idea that since nothing here ever seems to be permanent, maybe this won't be either.

But seeing Johnny's expression switch to awkward almost breaks his brain. There's no smart, sarcastic remark. No look that V's gotten accustomed to. It's fucking weird looking at the face of a man he'd shared his brain with and there's no recognition in return.

Makes him feel cold inside. ]

Uh, sorry. Look like somebody I know.

[ Sure, he's gonna go with that explanation. Not only that, he's going to do what he's got to in order to keep Johnny safe. So, if he's not Johnny yet... ]

Robert? Right?

[ Which'd be weird if V hadn't already cobbled together something in his head to try explain away how he'd know that name. ]

Uh, this place... some of us who been here a while get assigned to new arrivals.

You got me. Name's V.

[ Lying doesn't feel good, but the alternative feels like it'd be a bad idea. Sticking a hand out, he manages a half smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. ]

[The arched brow stays plastered on Robert’s face for a little longer, on account of a whole lot of things: the distinct feeling like he’s disappointed this man for not being whoever “Johnny” is, his appointed task of being his chaperone, apparently, and the fact that he just goes by V.]

Just V? They assign us all codenames or does that actually stand for somethin’?

[Well, not all of his sarcastic bite’s up and gone just because he’s reverted to his teenage years, but there’s nothing sharp in any of it. It’s a nice way to hide the fact that he thinks just being called “V” is a little nova; a little intriguing, bolstering that curiosity.

A hand comes out—organic, just like his other—to complete the handshake.]

When you say ‘been here a while’, how long does that—

[A question unduly interrupted with the burgeoning of a sync blooming with the touch — it’s weak on Robert’s end, though, given that his experiences and memories of the other man don’t exactly exist in his mind yet.]

Ah, shit. [Sorry, he’s cutting that handshake short. Both hands raise, scoffing out a half-laugh.] Sorry, that still feels weird as hell.

[ There's a whole lot of effort going into V's demeanor that usually doesn't happen around Johnny. No need to hold back with Silverhand. But this? This isn't Johnny. Not yet. And that makes this whole thing even more weird, like somebody slipped him some black lace and he's skezzed, all the way up to his Kiroshis.

Eventually he huffs out an amused breath, the break in the handshake too soon, or maybe not soon enough. Who the fuck knows? ]

Yeah, it stands for somethin'.

[ Not that he's going to share that just yet, even if he is tempted to use his name just to see if it jogs any memories. Mostly, he just wants to be gentle.

And not staring at the arm that's usually chrome is a tall order in itself. He's vaguely aware of how weird he'd be coming off if he wasn't trying so hard not to make it weird. ]

Takes a while to get used to. Called Synchrony.

[ Nevermind that he's trying to adjust to the fact he doesn't feel like he just had a million volts shot through his veins. ]

Been here a few months now. Five, maybe? 's what passes as a vet here, guess ya could say.

How'd you uh... where'd ya wake up? 'member anythin' 'bout where ya came from?

[Okay, Mr. Mysterious. Don’t tell him what it stands for, then.

Robert shakes out his hands a little, as though that might slough off the remnants of Synchrony, and jams both hands in his pockets, unwilling to keep them idle at his sides.]

Five month’s a long time. [God, is he going to be stuck here for months? That’s a thought that invites a cold feeling he doesn’t wanna deal with right now, so he doesn’t.] Then I’m gonna expect you to show me all the places that aren’t a snoozefest if you’ve been here that long. You know that I woke up in an empty house? [The townhouse, clearly — empty of people at the time, if not things.] Thought I might’ve been kidnapped or somethin’ insane until I really wandered out into the city.

[Not that this is any less insane. Not by a long shot. V’s question’s a little weird, though. Why wouldn’t he remember…?]

Yeah, I remember. Trying not to wilt in the Texas heat. Why, do people have trouble with their memories here?

[ If he'd known, V would have at least tried to be around. But he didn't, and in real terms that probably wouldn't have looked good on his behalf. Not that he's going to avoid going back there, but explaining that away is... gonna be something.

Distracted for the moment, V clears his throat and almost smirks. Still got some of that bite, apparently, even as a kid. And that's what Johnny - Robert - is. A kid.

What's important though is the information; everybody who wakes up here does so in the burnished crater, somewhere that's not the actual planet's surface. So this isn't a case of Johnny left and got dragged back from some different time, or world. He literally went to sleep one day an octogenarian and woke up-- ]

Wait, how old are ya?

I’m [(almost)] eighteen.

[He says it with the forced casualness of a man (a kid) who can already see it in the face of his new companion: this guy’s going to think that he’s just some fresh-faced gonk kid who’s in over his head. That’s the last thing he wants, never mind how he actually feels, and so—]

Does it matter? [His eyes flick back to the performers, then the crowd. There are plenty of actual children here, much younger than him. It’s a little weird.] Not like there’s an age restriction on who’s allowed to have fun out here.

[ V'd figured young, but not that young. Johnny's an entire decade younger than he is, and suddenly the gravity of the situation pulls hard into focus. Eighteen years old and doesn't remember anything about how his life plays out.

There's too many strands of thought that lead to a depth of feeling that almost steals his breath away. Mostly, V's more freaked out by this than he was with Ker. This isn't just young Johnny, it's not Johnny at all. ]

No, there's not. 'cept this place ain't forgivin' sometimes no matter how old ya might be.

Guess that's where I come in.

[ Nevermind that V would already do anything for Johnny. There's something disconcerting about Johnny being this green. ]

What was ya plan, anyway? Woke up someplace that ain't Texas anymore... where ya gonna stay?

Didn’t have a plan. [Hands come out of his pockets and cross against his chest, eyebrow arcing again.] Figured I’d find some answers out here. What the hell would you have done if you were me?

[This line of questioning is uncomfortable, making him come to terms that he’s going to have to strike it out on his own on an alien planet. And a moot one, too, he thinks — isn’t this V guy supposed to help him?]

‘Sides, aren’t you supposed to help me? It’s what you were assigned to do, right? I ask you ‘what’s fun to do around here’ and ‘where should I sleep at night’ and you tell me. Or show me.

You’re the one who’s been here for months. I should be askin’ you what’s your story.

[ It's almost funny they're having this conversation, like V's got a real strong urge to pinch himself, hard. Last month he'd been the choom that needed help. This month... ]

Maybe you got a point. I'm a nomad. Used to gettin' dropped places I don't know.

But I was just askin'. Tryin' to figure out what you know 'bout lookin' after yourself this young. [ He pauses a second, a deeply thoughtful expression seeping into his features. ] Got no idea how much experience you got with this kinda thing.

[ Not that his expression seems judgemental or condescending, it's just weird to experience truth like this first hand. Hardly like Johnny's the most reliable narrator of what history V actually knows of. ]

You hungry? Food's never a bad place to start. Welcome to stay at-- my place. Share it with some friends'a mine.

[Something twists across his face, wry, maybe looking a bit like the Johnny V knows in the faintest way possible.]

Know plenty about lookin’ after myself. Age’s got nothing to do with—

[The cards people are dealt in life. But Robert clicks his tongue, and all that slides away and off his expression, as though he can’t bother finishing the thought. Doesn’t matter to a guy who’s a stranger, anyway.

Besides, the notion of him being a nomad? That seems to spark a little interest. Food, too, but Robert’s already forming his own itinerary in his head. It all spills out in nearly a single breath.]

Take you up on that but… you’re a nomad? Guess that makes sense, you got the look of one. Hey, that means you got a nice pair of wheels somewhere around here, right? You can’t shuffle me back indoors without taking it and me for a spin, and showin’ me what’s good around town. I’ve been walkin’ all day, my feet feel like they’re ‘bout to fall off.

Didn't say it did. Don't think age means much at all sometimes.

[ The look pins V in place, a few seconds of weird not quite deja vu but memories of all the times Johnny's been wry at him. Huffing out another amused breath, the non-stop order of events takes a moment to reach its conclusion. ]

Guess old habits die hard. Nomads that easy to pick out?

[ Not that it matters; V's proud of where he's come from. And the interest is easy to pick out from Johnny's tone. ]

Yeah I got wheels. Depends what ya think nice is.

[ The motorcycle he's been working on isn't exactly looking like new, but she gets him from place to place. The urge to laugh at the request to be driven around is hard to tamp down. Too many times he's heard Johnny complain about his style of driving. ]

All you need is a grease smear across your face and you’ve got the complete look of ‘nomad’ written all over you. Maybe sprinkle some dust on your shirt.

[Stereotypical, generalized. But hey, he can imagine it on this guy as easy as anything.

Robert grins a little.]

You won’t know what I think ‘nice’ is until you show me. Gonna stop playing coy?

Mmhmm. 'zactly what no nomad's ever 'thout.

[ This is like that weird conversation he had with Ker, back in Night City. Stereotypes. Gonna get ya every time.

But he's not offended; far from it. If anything he laughs, grins in some weird moment of levity. Johnny was a lot more charming when he was a kid. ]

Don't mix ya words. Okay, gonna make ya walk though. She's parked a few blocks over and 'm not your driver.

[The light in his eyes looks vaguely amused still as he tilts his head in the direction of the street performers. Their set is coming to a close — he can hear it in the outro of whatever song they’re playing.]

These guys are wrapping it up, anyway. So yeah, I’ll walk. Still got a few miles left in me if I have to.

[He’ll let V lead the way, and if he does, Robert is keen to follow, finding a small more of comfort in knowing that he doesn’t have to float through this city like flotsam. At least he can anchor himself to this man who knows what he’s doing.

Eyes linger on his back for a moment as they walk, considering. Then—]

Like your arms. [There’s a blunt compliment, but it’s linked to a curiosity. He’s never seen anything that advanced before. He’s pretty sure not even the military is utilizing prosthetics or augmentations that look quite like that.] Where does a nomad go to get somethin’ like that done?

[ It's barely occurred to V that his cyberware is way beyond what Johnny's used to seeing. It's hard to tease apart, but eventually he realizes he's gotta stop thinking of this kid as Johnny. It's him, yeah, but not really. This kid is Robert Linder, not Johnny Silverhand. As if that wasn't obvious enough by a very obvious lack of a chrome arm.

Raising his brows, he glances back, slows his walk just enough so Robert can catch up. ]

Night City.

[ Which... considering history, and how old Robert is, isn't going to mean anything. Doesn't even exist yet from the time Robert's got memories of. ]

's where I was when I got pulled here. Still don't know how that works.

[ But he does lift his right hand, splays his fingers out to give Robert a better look. ]

Called a gorilla arm. Never seen anythin' like this before?

Never heard of it.

[Night City, he means. Must be a real top tier, high-rolling city if a nomad can waltz in and get that kind of work done. Like something out of a sci-fi novel, he thinks, and Robert doesn’t bother to ask as he clamps a hand around V’s extended wrist to keep it lifted, just so he can get a better look as they walk.

His brow wrinkles. Hard to tell where the flesh ends and the chrome begins. This is the kind of thing that’s available now?]

Could knock a guy’s head off with arms like that. How’d you scrounge up enough to afford it?

[Nomad = loaded with eddies = doesn’t compute.]

[ V really hadn't thought through what kind of questions Robert was going to ask, and how difficult they are to answer. No nomad needs a history lesson on what days gone by were like. In fact, there's a fair amount of history and bad blood tied up in Night City itself. And still that was after Robert's time. Admitting that he's from 2077, that he was born decades after Robert doesn't seem like the best idea right now.

Surrendering his arm fully to be inspected, the only bonus to their Synchrony being a fraction of what it was before is that both of them can keep walking and talking. Feels weird and not something that V knows how to get his head around, but that's something to deal with later. ]

Yeah. Don't wanna get on the wrong side'a one of these.

[ Which would make more sense as to why he's only got the one instead of both hands if Robert actually knew who he was and why he'd make a choice like that. ]

Same way as any other merc. Take jobs that're dangerous enough the pay out's good. Sometimes people'll pay a lot just so they don't gotta put their ass on the line, or get their hands dirty.

Went to Night City to make a name for myself. Eddies get bigger the bigger ya get.

[ And he's just going to neatly side step mentioning anything about the Relic. One day you're gonna want to kill me, and then you're gonna save my ass. He falls into a contemplative silence. ]

[It’s a contemplative silence that Robert doesn’t even realize is there, because this new information about V being a merc is even more impressive; enough to distract him from his enhanced arm, freeing his wrist and severing the weak, underlying sync.]

Wait, so you’re a nomad and a merc? Jesus. You kill people sometimes, too?

[Robert’s overblown idea of what a mercenary does—what a mercenary must be like—isn’t so overblown when it comes to putting lead in a guy’s body. But now he’s just imagining V tearing along on his bike, going to city to city, doing whatever the hell he pleases and picking up dangerous jobs along the way. The guy looks tough, there’s no doubt about it. Could probably knock Robert on his ass in three seconds flat.

Somehow this shouldn’t be weirdly appealing to him, but here they are.]

Meanin’ you’re rollin’ in eddies ‘cause of your rep. Just say it if it’s true.

[ On the receiving end of this amount of curious interest is weird, but less weird coming from a kid. A kid that sounds like he's got some ideas about what shit like that's like but maybe not the life experience to confirm it.

V glances at Robert sideways and raises his eyebrows. Yeah, still weird looking at this kid with Johnny's face and struggling to match the two up. There's a heaviness that's just not there, cynicism evaporated along with all those years. ]

Flatlinin' people's not-- it's the last resort.

[ Though maybe Robert can read between the lines. Yeah, V's killed people. Couple of 'em not on any job at all. Johnny'd know that, that V looks for outcomes other than zeroing somebody unless there's really no other way. In the case of Woodman, and Grayson, that was personal. ]

You been on the back of a bike before?

[ It's a question he asks once they've made it to the motorcycle he's been lovingly restoring. Fixing shit is part of the fabric of who he is, and though the bike doesn't compare to what he's got in NC, it still looks better than it did. ]

[The lines are easily read between, but the subtlety of meaning is lost. Johnny would know that there’s a lot more to mercenary work than rushing in with a hail of bullets, devil may care who nails one between the eyes. Robert, thus far, sees only glorification in the implication; this is a guy who’s really lived, who’s made a name for himself and walks and talks like it’s all easy, like it comes natural. Put down the opposition, made a name for himself. That’s pretty nova — he wonders what it would be like to see him work.

He’s starting to wonder a lot of things about him.]

Yeah, I guess.

[Not that Robert knows anything about flatlining anyone. Not yet, at least.

For now, the bike. Once he nears, he circles it, eyes lifting back up to V.]

Once or twice. You’re gonna have to make it a hell of a ride if you wanna be the memorable one.

Edited 2021-07-11 23:43 (UTC)

[ The answer provokes its own kind of amusement. He's still got Johnny's complaints echoing in his mind, and that just makes this bordering on hilarious. There's a challenge he reads in the answer, one that he knows he's more than capable of rising to. He's just taking a second to let that sink in before hitching a leg over the bike.

Jerking his head over his shoulder, he's inviting Robert to sit behind him. If he wants a hell of a ride, V's only too happy to make that reality. ]

So I don't gotta tell ya to not let go.

[ Of course, he's saying it anyway. Flinging Robert off the back of a fast-moving bike isn't his aim here, but he's not going to hold back either. He starts the engine, the sound of a well-oiled machine resurrected from close to scrap-heap material a preem sound, in V's opinion. There aren't any helmets to speak of, just a question of trust that V knows what he's doing. ]

[It’s definitely a challenge, and one that Robert is looking forward to seeing if V can rise to the occasion. He’s never ridden with a nomad, so the expectations are kind of exciting; unlike his older self, he also doesn’t have the miles upon miles of riding with V to the point where the activity is akin to always being mid-street race. Maybe Johnny doesn’t need that adrenaline rush every time they go from point A to point B.

Maybe it’s novelty enough for Robert to seek it out.]

‘Course not. C’mon, then.

[Hitching his own leg over the back of the bike, Robert takes his place behind V. His arms secure against him in the next moment, a frame that’s a little lighter than his future self. The synchrony begins to buzz dully again.]

Impress me.

[ It seems like Robert, unlike Johnny, is likely to be a lot more easily impressed by what V's planning. Street racing is nova, but there's too much in the way of other vehicles on the streets. Kicking off at the same time he releases the brake and twists the throttle, there's no small amount of force as the bike launches forward.

Of course, vehicles on the streets are all part of the fun, and V's soon weaving in and out of them with what feels like barely a hair's breadth between their legs and the sides of the traffic. He's good at this, and he knows he is, but he's still taking the time every chance he gets to make sure he can still feel the pressure of the other man's arms around him.

He rides them all the way out to the edge of the more populated city streets until they're gifted the sight of an open, straight road and nothing to stop them. And that's when V really cuts loose, opens up the throttle and sends them hurtling down the straight like two men fleeing the scene of a crime. ]

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