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V's fist — piloted by Johnny — clenched and raised, poised to carry it through the mirror, yet he hesitated. One more long hard look at V's dead eyes — his dead eyes — brought the hand back to his side. He sighed.
It wasn't her fault. He couldn't take it out on V. This is what she chose, and he needed to honor that. He had to. Alt said that V had earned the right to make a choice.
"Fuck, V…" the voice came out deeper and rougher than it should have. Every time he spoke, Johnny heard her voice in his words — but it was all wrong.
Johnny ordered two niches from the Columbarium near North Oak. They wouldn't be available for another week or so — five to six business days, the clerk said. After he said his goodbyes, Johnny was leaving Night City. Forever, he hoped, but he knew that this place was like a black hole: sucking in everything around it. Would he be able to stay away?
He kept Rogue's pistol at his side at all times. It stayed on the nightstand when he slept, and in his holster when he wasn't at the apartment. It wasn't V's apartment, of course. He'd tried to go back there after Mikoshi, if only to rest and process, but it felt like an invasion. Just like being in her body felt like an invasion. Being in her life… her memories… hell, he couldn't even wear her clothes. It was all so wrong.
Being in a woman's body felt wrong, too. He'd almost gotten comfortable with it when V was piloting. He only felt everything peripherally, and was able to retreat into their shared subconscious when he was uncomfortable. But now there was no retreating. V's body was smaller than his original body. It had more chrome and implants, and organs he didn't know what to do with. He woke up with dysphoria nearly every morning.
Despite the negatives, he was at least thankful that V's body hadn't been dumped in the oil field or the landfill (again). She deserved better… she certainly didn't deserve Johnny, but at least it was better than being dumped and forgotten… wasn't it? It had to be. Johnny would make sure of it.
Steve Sanchez was a good kid. As good as Night City could breed, anyway. Johnny let him into his apartment when he knocked on the door a few weeks ago, bruised and bloody. Steve did his best to avoid trouble, but trouble had a way of finding everyone in this city.
"Come on man, my dad can't see me like this," Steve pleaded quietly, nervously shuffling his feet just outside the threshold. Johnny let him inside to clean up, and gave him V's old shirt to replace his bloody one. Johnny couldn't wear it, but he also couldn't bring himself to throw it away. It was V's favorite. Johnny didn't know that because she'd told him, but from her memories. Her psyche was gone — overwritten, he corrected himself bitterly — but some of her memories lingered.
Steve didn't understand what it meant. He never would, never could. But he still smiled at Johnny as if he'd been handed a treasure.
Steve was a welcome change of pace from the depressed wallowing that had followed when Johnny left Mikoshi alone. After spending a month in someone else's head as a constant companion, being alone was a hellish punishment.
He knew people that he could seek out, technically, but they were V's chooms, not Johnny's. As soon as they knew she was gone, they'd never treat him like a person. As far as they knew, he was the tumor that killed her. So he intended never to face them, never to make them live in the reality that he had to. The one wherein Johnny walked around wearing V like a skinsuit. They would never know, and it was better that way.
No it's not! An imaginary V argued with him, as if their roles reversed and she was now the ghost in his head. My friends would want to know what happened to me! And now it falls on you to do that. It's your responsibility, damn it. You never let me run away from my problems, so what's your excuse?
"It's not that easy, V," he answered the ghost out loud. He waited for an answer, hoping beyond hope to hear her real voice again.
But she was gone, and Johnny was well and truly alone.
A shudder ran up his spine as he stepped into Misty's Esoterica. The last time he was here had been right before he convinced V to let him and Rogue raid Arasaka tower. He had been so sure that it was the right choice. But now Rogue was dead, and V was gone.
Misty looked up from the counter as he entered, and she started to smile. The hope in her expression faded quickly. Did Johnny look that miserable?
"V? Are you okay?" She said, rounding the counter to step closer. "Should I get Vik?"
"No," Johnny said, holding up a hand to stop her stream of questions, "I'm not V. Sorry to disappoint… it was her choice, not mine," he tried to keep the emotion out of his voice, but to his own ears, it sounded like he was about to break down in tears.
Misty didn't respond immediately. She gave Johnny a long, assessing look. After a moment she spoke softly, "She's really gone, isn't she?"
"Yeah. Turned to code and behind the Blackwall now," Johnny explained.
Misty crossed her arms over her stomach and returned to her spot behind the counter. "Is there something you came here for? Something I can help you with… Johnny, was it?"
Johnny blinked at her with mild surprise. Why didn't she lash out at him? — with words or nails, either would be appropriate. The last thing he expected was calm acceptance. "Nothing like that, it's just V would want you to know what happened to her. Tell Viktor for me?"
Misty gave him another searching look. "No, I think you need to tell him yourself. Besides, you could probably use a check up. Looks like you two went through hell."
Johnny's lip twitched in an almost-smirk. "Shot our way through Arasaka tower — might as well have been hell."
Misty nodded toward the doorway that led to Viktor's clinic. "Follow me."
Johnny followed, remembering the time not so long ago he'd dragged V's body here from Embers. A cat sat at the top of the stairs now, just as it had then. An insignificant detail he remembered from a time of crisis. Damn, he missed V.
"This isn't a good idea," he thought out loud as they descended the stairs. "Somethin' tells me he won't be as understanding as you."
"Maybe not, but like you said — V would want him to know." She activated the gate that opened to reveal Viktor's clinic, where the ripperdoc sat alone at his desk, typing something into his terminal. He looked up at them.
Misty spoke first. "Hey Vik, got a new patient here to see you."
"A new patient…?" Viktor trailed off as his gaze shifted to Johnny, who hung back, unsure if he was welcome. Realization crashed over Viktor's expression, and his shoulders dropped. He leaned against the desk with a sigh and rubbed his eyes under his glasses. "Misty, I —"
"I'm just here to tell you what happened," Johnny interrupted. "For V's sake. She'd want you to know that she's gone, but damn, she went down fighting."
Viktor's eyes narrowed behind his glasses, training on Johnny. "Fighting you?"
"Guess you could say that. If she came back, she'd have had a handful of months to live until completely deteriorating. Begged her to take those months, but you know how she is… she had to make her own path. Took her death by the reigns and made her own choice."
"Doesn't sound like much of a choice."
Johnny glanced at the small table where Viktor had laid two pills and a pistol just weeks before. "You know what the alternative would have been."
Viktor hung his head. The hostility melted out of his frame. He stared at the ground between his feet for a moment, before standing up and walking over to his patient's chair. "Come on, let me get a look at you."
Johnny hesitated. “I just came here to tell you about V. We don’t need to do this dance.”
“That body is filled with chrome,” Viktor said. “It needs to be maintained. Let me walk you through it.”
Johnny had learned enough riding shotgun with V — but something told him that the doc insisted for his own sake, rather than Johnny’s. He sat in the chair.
Viktor jacked him into the diagnostic computer. He scanned a nearby monitor. “Looks like some of your internal systems took a beating. Your subdermals are holding up. Your oculars look good. Your external ports —”
Johnny focused on Viktor. “What?”
“The chip. It’s dead.”
Oh.
Viktor reached behind Johnny’s ear and unslotted the Relic. He held it up for Johnny to see. The chip was fried.
“Did it’s job, I guess,” Viktor said morosely. He dropped it into Johnny’s hand.
“I didn’t want this to happen,” Johnny said. “I didn’t do this on purpose. I was just the construct on the chip, I didn’t make V slot it.”
Viktor waved him off. “V made her own choices. She lived like an edgerunner, died like an edgerunner. No one is blaming you.”
Then why did Johnny feel so guilty?
How was he supposed to face Judy? Or Panam? Viktor and Misty had gone easy on him, but those women were likely to blow his brains out if he told them.
But he couldn’t not tell them. The imaginary V in his mind wouldn’t let him run away from Night City yet. Not until he buried all the bones there were to bury.
Judy was first. If he survived Judy, maybe he could survive Panam.
He walked down the familiar hall of Lizzie’s Bar, and down into Judy’s editing bay. He didn’t want to see her at her apartment. It was too raw.
She was too focused on her latest scroll to notice him come in. He knocked on the desk with metal knuckles, and she looked up. Her eyes were bright as they focused on him. Wrong, it was so wrong.
“V!” She said, standing, coming close. “I thought you fucking died!”
She moved in for a hug, but Johnny put up his arms. “I’m sorry,” he said, taking a half-step away from her. “I’m so sorry.”
Judy lowered her arms, and then slowly crossed them in front of her. Her face was plastered with hurt and confusion. “What is this?” She said through a hysterical laugh. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“Judy — V is gone.”
Judy was still. Very still, as if she suddenly spotted a predator. “You’re not V?”
Johnny shook his head. “She didn’t really tell you about me. Remember the chip that was killing her? Well, it succeeded. V is gone.”
Judy didn’t say anything. That was worse than yelling and screaming, somehow. Her silent, deflated acceptance was heartbreaking.
Johnny kept talking. “We shot up Arasaka Tower trying to save her. It didn’t work. It wouldn’t have worked.”
Judy took one step back. Her eyes flicked towards the desk, probably where she had a hidden firearm. “If you’re not V, then who are you?”
“I’m the construct who was on the chip destroying her brain. It’s a long, stupid fucking story.”
“It’s you,” she said, pointing at him. “I heard you, when we were diving.”
“Yeah, maybe. I wasn’t really —” he cut himself off. Not important. “Look, I just came to tell you. She wanted you to know what happened to her.”
Judy went quiet again. Fuck. After what happened to Evelyn, this was like icing on the dogshit cake. Johnny started to back away, but then paused at the end of the desk. “If it means anything to you, she really liked you.”
Judy looked at him. Her eyes were so tired. She was so tired.
“I was in her head,” Johnny said. “I know how she felt about you. It was… it was real. I’m sorry.”
He left. Judy didn’t stop him, or ask him questions, or shoot him, or yell at him, or do any of the things he almost wished she would. She deserved a little rage. More than a little, he thought.
Sending condolences via text was a very shitty thing to do. Johnny knew that, but he didn’t want to face Panam alone in the desert, surrounded by the nomad gang who would take her side if she decided to shoot Johnny in the face.
He sat on the edge of his bed, in his shitty little apartment. He bunched his pants in his hands. Just get it over with.
He called Panam. She picked up. Johnny winced. Why couldn’t it go to voicemail, just this once?
“Hey V!” Panam was excited about something. “You just missed it, we took the Basilisk out for a joyride — don’t tell Saul. You shoulda called earlier, I would have waited for you.”
Johnny’s mouth went dry. He should hang up now.
“V? Everything okay?”
“No,” Johnny said. How many times was he going to have to say this? “V is dead.”
Panam looked at him like he had two heads. “What’s this about, V? Are you alone?”
“V died a month ago. She went down fighting, if that makes you feel any better about it.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Panam stared at him, anger rising with every second. “What happened to V? Why do you sound like her?”
“The chip in V’s head, the one that was killing her — it overwrote her brain with a personality construct. We couldn’t stop it in time. She willingly gave her body to the personality construct when she realized that she was going to die no matter what.”
“Bullshit,” Panam spat. “That’s bullshit! Where are you? Still in Night City? You motherfucker, what did you do to V!?”
There was all the anger that he expected, finally aimed at him. He deserved all of it. He was tempted to tell Panam exactly where he was, so she could put a bullet through his head herself. No, he wasn’t going to let that happen.
“I’m sorry, Palmer,” he said. “V deserved better than this.”
She started another string of expletives, but Johnny hung up.
On his way out of Night City, he stopped at the Columbarium. Steve was kind enough to drive him.
The niches he ordered were in the back, out of the way, out of the fancy underlighting. It didn’t matter to anyone but him.
He left V’s necklace, with the bullet that would have killed her — that did kill her. “Thanks, V.” Her voice, his inflection. Wrong. Eventually it would be right. “Thanks for everything… for the second chance.”
You’re welcome, his imaginary V said, standing next to him, looking at her own niche. Don’t waste it.
He wasn’t going to.