Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

V took a moment to cast a sweeping glance around the bar. Lot of corpo-looking folk out tonight. She couldn't remember which bar she'd settled on in the end. She couldn't go to Coyote Cojo, too much like home. And she didn't go to the Afterlife tonight, concerned she might be developing a reputation.

The Merc Who Fucks Mercs.

She had at least been selective about who she took to bed, but there were a lot of mercs who fit the bill for her, and recently when she descended the stairs into the former morgue, she felt a little too watched. Hopeful eyes followed her through there, even when she was clearly dressed for merc work. Tonight, she was looking for fresh meat. Sure, Tiny Mike was a good sport for her usual fare, but she craved the excitement of a brand new victim. Johnny decided to chime in as she scanned the booths towards the back of the bar.

'Ooooh, V, who's tonight's poor, unfortunate soul gonna be?' He practically sang. He enjoyed this passtime of hers more than she'd expected. Then again, he'd had a reputation for dominating men and women alike in his lifetime, 'And don't you forget it - playing this game with you feels like passing on the torch, and so far you've done me proud, kid'

'Thanks, Johnny,' She thought, glancing at his holographic image in the mirror behind the bar, 'I was playing this game long before you were inside my head though, not exactly craving your approval over here,'

'Oh I know V. You crave the blood of innocents, the music they make when you're on top of 'em and they're beggin' you for release, and how could I not approve of that?' They shared a brief smile across the bar. She was glad Johnny understood the kick she got out of taking a man home, only to watch him crumble with the realization that she was in total control of everything. If her lover for the night thought he was going to bend her over, he had another thing coming. Half the time, she didn't even let them enter her, and they never saw her come undone. The special ones might be allowed a taste, and the really special ones might get the luxury of her mouth - she and Tiny Mike had certainly tasted plenty of one another.

Tonight, though, she wanted someone brand new. Someone she could bring to his knees with just her voice. She'd approached several possibles already, but none of them were up to snuff. Too young, too eager, not nearly eager enough, too skinny, and too handsy, respectively. She wasn't deterred, however, she knew she'd find the right match in this bar, in this dress.

It was completely backless, with a halter neckline and a scoop neck that exposed a tasteful amount of cleavage. The hemline sat just above her knees, enough to make her look enticing, but not so much that she looked easy. The pale iridescent fabric was perfect in the low lighting of the bar, V felt like an expensive fish in some Araska bastard's luxury aquarium. She'd completed the look with some matching iridescent lines across the peaks of her cheekbones and the arch of her eyebrows. At the thought of her makeup, V returned her gaze to the mirror behind the bar for a quick check-up.

Without Johnny's visage there, V accidentally made eye contact with someone's reflection. She automatically averted her gaze, before returning it to the man's image in the mirror. He stood across the room from her, looking intently in her direction. From the head and shoulders she could see, he was ticking a lot of boxes. A little bigger than she usually went for, but that sounded like a fun challenge right about now. He sported a shaved head, a single dangling earring, and a cybernetic eye. V decided to test the waters. She sat on her barstool and flexed her shoulders slightly, watching him in the mirror. Sure enough, his gaze shifted to watch the play of rippling skin and muscle on her exposed back when she stretched out, his eyes traveling up and down her back appreciatively.

Already, V was thinking this one might deserve a taste. She tried to picture how his earring would feel dangling against her inner thigh, what it would be like to drag her nails across that buzz cut. Would the metal eye scratch or catch at all? Would she like that?

'What about this one, Johnny?' She thought, craning her neck to get a better look at the man's reflection. He wore a skin tight, long-sleeved black compression top. Casual for a bar like this, but it did a great job of outlining bigger muscles than V was used to seeing outside of an Animal hideout. His right arm was at a relaxed right angle, cradling a beer in a large, metal hand.

'You thinkin' what those chrome digits might feel like in your hair?' Johnny contributed.

Well, now she was. What would those fingers feel like stroking her? Choking her? She shook her head, that wasn't on the agenda when she played this game, even if she was sometimes tempted when she was in the throes of her excitement. The whole point of her game was to regain some control over her shit show life, not hand control to someone else. She refocused, assessing the man in the mirror once more. His mismatched eyes were on hers again. This time, she held his stare through the mirror, the very edges of her mouth quirking up into the tiniest hint of a smile. To his credit, the man didn't change his stony, neutral expression at all. Maybe he would be a challenge to break down. Maybe she'd have to work really hard before he would beg. She had to know.

'He's the one, Johnny,'

'Alright, let's get this show on the road,' He clapped his hands together eagerly, 'Show him what it feels like to be completely at your mercy, V,'

Standing from her stool, V felt a warm wave wash over her as the man eyed her exposed back once again. She swiped her tongue over her teeth quickly and turned to face him. The full frontal view of him almost had her light-headed. He was taller than she'd thought, even leaning against the wall as he was. In these particular heels, V was close to 6 foot, meaning this guy had to be comfortably over that to still stand above her. Beyond the undeniably beautiful symmetry of his high cheekbones, well-defined brows, plump lips, and uniquely appealing ears, the confidence he exuded was like an invisible tether commanding her closer. V approached him, almost against her will. His eyes fell to her heeled feet, slowly raking upward until they were eye-to-eye again. She paused for a moment when they were about a foot apart, letting the energy between them stir and settle.

"Hi," She smiled a demure, disarming smile at him - she liked to save her full grin for sealing the deal. He remained stoic, "Name's V,"

V held her hand out to him for a moment, but he made no motion to take it, only looked at it. She returned it to her side after a few seconds, her confidence suddenly faltering a little. Taking in his face, he seemed to be weighing up whether he wanted to talk to her at all.

"Jamie," He replied. The way he wavered before speaking, combined with how unnatural he sounded, made her suspect this was not his real name. No matter, she didn't need his real name for the game to work.

"So, Jamie," She emphasized his name and gave him a pointed expression, as if to say, I know that's not your name, in fact, I know everything, I hold all the cards here, "What do you do? You some kind of model?"

He scoffed and looked to the floor, shaking his head seemingly in disbelief that she could ask such a question. V raised her eyebrows at him. Did he think she was joking? With his looks and his authoritative aura, she assumed he must have a job that feeds the ego. When he didn't answer, she spoke again, a little harsher this time.

"Did I stutter?"

That got his attention back to her face.

"You're serious?"

"Am I laughing?" She smiled coyly, bringing the charm back to her voice. She made a half-step towards him and leaned her weight to one hip to bring them a little closer.

"Sorry," He briefly moved his hands to show her his palms in an 'I surrender' motion, his metal claw still gripping the neck of his beer bottle, "Didn't mean to offend you. You come on this strong with all your marks or am I special?"

What?

'Is this guy onto us, V?' Johnny piped up.

'I have no idea what's happening,' She replied, suddenly feeling exposed and embarrassed. Did this guy know about her game? She'd definitely never come across him before. What if she knew someone he knew? A brother, a roommate, a colleague. Oh look out for that V chick, she's a maneater. Maybe she had a reputation beyond the familiar comfort of the Afterlife. She knew things would only get worse if she didn't speak soon.

"My marks?"

"Whatever you wanna call 'em," He remarked casually, shrugging, "So far I've counted five unlucky men who'll surely notice they're missing their wallets and watches come tomorrow morning. You're making quick work of this spot,"

Did this fucking gonk think she was some petty pickpocket?

Her confidence regained, and her ego somewhat bruised, V knew it was time to turn the tables.

"You been watching me all night?"

She saw him falter just a tiny fraction at the question, his beer arm sagging slightly. Something distant in his eye conveyed the smallest hint of embarrassment, possibly even shame if she squinted hard enough.

"Been watching in general," He gestured his beer at the bar, trying to be dismissive, "You just happen to be very eye-catching,"

"Eye - singular - I presume?" She said in a monotone, briefly jutting her chin towards his implant. Suddenly, this guy's confident aura pissed her off, and she wanted nothing more than to bring him down several pegs. His expression somehow turned colder than it had been when he looked at her in the mirror.

"What do you do? You some kind of comedian when you're not liftin' from folks in bars?" He scoffed at her sarcastically, rolling his good eye.

"Cute," She replied dryly.

"I try," Everything about this asshole screamed not interested, and yet the more they spoke the more she wanted to win him over. To bring this stubborn bastard to his knees? That would be a night to remember. She switched tactics, forcing him to decide if he was interested in a conversation.

"Well, I can tell I'm bothering you, so I'll leave you be," She turned to leave, only making it a single step away before his hand, a real flesh hand, she noticed, was on her forearm.

"Wait," His grip was firm and hot on her skin. His voice was tight, almost demanding instead of the pleading she preferred to hear. Still, she smiled to herself for her first little victory before turning to him with an icy indifference on her face.

"What?" She wore practiced irritation in her features, internally savoring the apologetic look on his face.

"Sorry," He said it like it hurt to admit. His jaw was tight and she briefly considered reaching out to caress the taught muscles there. Her legs were starting to tingle from how uncomfortable she was making him.

"Sorry?" She feigned disinterest, ignoring the pulsing heat radiating from his huge hand still on her forearm, the grip more gentle now.

"I know I was bein' an ass. Sorry," Oh god, he even looked sheepish. V was nearly light-headed with desire, desperate to make him blush if she could. She threw him a bone, hoping to hook him in more.

"You can make it up to me by buying me a drink," She smiled again, briefly casting a glance up and down his figure. Now that he stood straight, he was easily 6'4 or 6'5, and she made sure to look up at him through her eyelashes. Her eyes lined up with his chin, making it all too easy to look once more at his full lips. He might have had the nicest mouth she'd ever seen. Once again, she pictured him between her thighs, lips and tongue attentively seeing to her needs. His metal hand could probably hold her down to keep her still. No. That wasn't the point of the game. She had to be in control. He interrupted her tumultuous reverie, snapping her attention back to his eyes.

"No can do I'm afraid. Ain't in the habit of buyin' drinks for thieves," Just like that, the endearingly apologetic tone was gone and the sense of smug superiority returned.

"That so?" She reverted back to her unimpressed voice, already regretting giving him an inch. She shrugged his hand off her arm, "Too bad, maybe next time,"

Her tone conveyed the message that no, there would in fact not be a next time. Not for this asshole. He nearly had her with his puppy dog face, but all this pickpocket shit was ridiculous. It was so far beneath her that if that's what he saw, then so was he. This gonk couldn't reach her level even with half a foot and at least fifty pounds on her. Once again, she turned to leave, moving quicker this time to give him less chance to catch her. She could hear him ditch his beer, making a move to follow her as she headed for the exit.

Just as she was about to ascend the steps towards the bar's main doors, his thick arm stuck out across the path in front of her, effectively blocking the exit. He moved his arm around her and placed his hand on the small of her bare back, gently turning her to face him. Her skin felt like it was on fire where he was touching it. Nobody touched her like this, not without pleading and begging, sometimes crying. Sometimes not even then.

'C'mon V,' Johnny protested, 'Gonk doesn't get to get away with touching you without asking. Break his fucking fingers so he needs another metal hand,'

V didn't answer him. She couldn't answer him. Her mind had gone completely blank. The only sensation that got through to her was the feeling of his fingertips on her skin. She liked it. She wanted to step closer to him, pull his hand closer, pull away entirely and sprint into the night. In the midst of her crossed wires, she hadn't realized he was looking at her with concern.

"V?" Her name in his voice broke through the static in her mind and she crashed back into reality with the grace of a broken S.C.S.M.

"Hm?" Was all she could muster. Pathetic.

"You froze there for a sec, you alright? Look, I'm sorry about the pickpocket stuff - I promise you're not in trouble or anything," He smiled jokingly and she definitely felt something stirring at the sight of a smile, but V was still completely lost. Why would she be in trouble? What was this gonk talking about? Why did she suddenly feel desperate to make this man tell her she was in trouble and he was going to punish her? Her cheeks flushed, accidentally encouraging him to continue his playful ribbing, "So long as you return everybody's valuables, of course,"

"What are you talking about?" Her internal monologue slipped out in a moment of shame-induced weakness as she did nothing but stare at his lips. He laughed. It was a good sound.

"C'mon, it's alright, I'm not gonna arrest you, promise,"

Before she could question him even more - hell, before she could get caught up in the implications of how being handcuffed by this man might make her feel - a back door to the bar burst open behind him, inviting a small posse of Tyger Claws into the space. Each was armed with either a katana or a sawed-off shotgun, seemed like this was a planned hit on the bar during peak corpo hours.

In milliseconds, entirely too much became clear to V. 'Jamie' removed his hand from her back, much to her dismay, and turned to become a blockade between her and the gangers. She saw the holster at the base of his back as he reached behind himself and pulled the revolver out. She saw him point it at the Tygers. At the same time, she saw several other 'patrons' of the bar raising weapons - a prepared operation. She knew what that meant. Before she had even a moment to pretend it meant something else, she heard him call out across the bar.

"NCPD, drop your weapons!"

FUCK.

Still pointing his gun at the Tygers, she saw him reach his left hand behind him, reaching for her, she realized. Like she was hypnotized, V took a half-step closer to him, into his reach, his hand making contact with her upper arm. He gently pushed her so she was completely shrouded by him, entirely out of sight of the Tygers. Was he trying to protect her? It was almost adorable, especially since he thought she was some small-time bar-hopping pickpocket. She almost laughed. She was so close to his back she could smell him. Why did he smell amazing? Like real leather and cotton and something woody and rich? Oh god, why was she sniffing him like a fucking drug dog? What was she still doing here? He was a fucking COP.

V took a quiet step back, glancing behind her to ensure the steps up to the bar's main entrance were clear. They were. Before she turned fully away from the mess of the bar, she heard his voice once more. He spoke quietly over his shoulder, speaking only to her. She couldn't fight the need to lean just a little closer to hear him clearly over the threats being thrown between the Claws and the other badges.

"V? You okay? You can wait for me outside, I'll come check on you when this is over." His voice seemed to carry genuine concern, speaking softly despite the madness unfolding in front of them. Against her better judgment, V reached out a hand, placing it flat on his shoulder blade as a kind of silent goodbye. The instant she removed it, she was overcome with shame and embarrassment.

He was a fucking COP.

She turned, taking the stairs two at a time even in her heels. When she pushed out of the bar door, the too-hot night air of the city hit her in the face, sobering and sickening. She started striding down the street, not sparing a moment to linger or look back at the bar's doors slowly closing. Johnny glitched in beside her on the sidewalk, keeping up with her flustered pace.

'Oh. My. God,' His tone was smug, his smile unbearably big. He slowly clapped his hands a few times in his glee, 'Boy, do you know how to pick 'em, V. A fucking cop!'

'Shut up,'

'And you were so into him too,' Johnny laughed, stumbling as he clutched his sides for a moment before jogging to catch up to her when she didn't slow, 'Are you a model?' He mocked a high-pitched, and inaccurate, facsimile of her voice.

'Shut. Up,'

'Night City's Finest, and you've got the scop-for-brains to ask if he was a fuckin' model,'

'I said shut the fuck up, Johnny!' She hissed, flicking her hair in his direction before bringing up her holo and scrolling through the contacts. She needed some comfort. Johnny kept laughing, relishing in her embarrassment. She briefly wondered if this was how some of her conquests felt when she gave them a pitying smile or laughed at their pleas. Worthless, shameful. Before the feelings could get a firmer grip on her, she reached the contact she was looking for and initiated the call.

He picked up before it reached the third ring. They'd developed a unique understanding over the months since she'd been sent to dig him out of his safehouse and bring him home. She still remembered his bloodied face and ruined arm; he was pretty, even whilst gory. They'd caught up over drinks in the Afterlife about a month later. Patched up, clean, and fresh-smelling, he'd suddenly become dizzyingly pretty in her eyes.

She remembered how she'd leaned across the table between them, watching him watch her shirt dip, exposing a clear view down the front of her cleavage. She'd reached her hand out to trace his new cyberware forearm with her fingertips. He'd shivered, shifting his eyes to hers, his lips parted in a way that begged for her attention. 

Their first time had been messy, boozy fun. When she pulled his crop of blond hair he made a noise, part pain, part arousal, and she knew he would enjoy her game. 

The night had ended with him shuddering, his throat bobbing painfully as she insulted him to his own finish line in her hands, her whispers as poisonous as they were irresistible.

Since then, they'd become well acquainted with each other's bodies. Usually, if she didn't feel like finding someone new, she'd play her game with Tiny Mike, and he never complained. The understanding they had was clear: if she sent a text, it was like a playful question. 

Hey, would you like to be degraded into submission tonight, kind of deal. He was free to refuse if he was busy or not in the mood. If she called him, however, there was no refusal. 

You have been summoned to accept your doom tonight, kind of deal.

"V," His raspy voice was like a balm for her embarrassment, his tone serious, awaiting his inevitable orders.

"You home right now?"

"No."

"Meet me out front of your building in the next ten minutes if you ever wanna eat my pussy again." She hung up as soon as she'd finished commanding him. Continuing her stride, she rounded the corner onto Tiny's street and came to a stop in front of his apartment building. Johnny glitched in in front of her.

'You just gonna run back to this gonk because of one little fuck up?' He crossed his arms as she rolled her eyes and pretended she was a normal person who didn't have a dead terrorist in her head and wasn't waiting for her booty call and certainly didn't get off on making men whimper and beg, 'I guess it wasn't that little of a fuck up. I mean, he was a fucking COP, and you were totally gonna give it all up and let him fuck you,'

'Was not,'

'Forget I'm in your head, ass? Could practically feel you creamin' your panties to the idea of him chokin' the life outta you with that metal gorilla hand while he fucks you like a bitch,'

V felt her face turn bright red and she turned to face away from Johnny, like that made any difference when he lived inside her head. His colorful description forced her to conjure the thus-far suppressed image of the cop above her, totally dominating her, and her loving it. 

Not loving it in her usual, relishing-in-the-power and thriving-on-feeling-worshiped kind of way. More in like a feeling-vulnerable-but-safe and also a completely-letting-go kind of way. 

Johnny appeared in front of her again, grimacing and waving his arm around as if trying to disperse the mental picture like a smoke cloud.

'That's embarrassing. Truly some shameful shit, V,' He shook his head disapprovingly, 'Thought you were better than that,'

'I am,' She brushed him off, pretending once again that he had no insight into her desires, 'Not stood outside that bar waiting for him to come check on me like some gonk civilian, am I?'

'No, you're stood outside some other building waitin' on some other asshole like some gonk civilian,'

'Why is Tiny an asshole? He plays the game well,'

'Whatever,' Johnny grumbled, 'Bored of seein' the way his mouth quivers when he's dyin' to come, I guess. Plus he clearly wants more than your dominatrix shit. Annoys me,'

'He's never asked for anything else,' She said defensively, not confident she understood Johnny's meaning.

'A relationship. Gonk,'

'Shut up,' 

'Just wait. Bet he asks you to stay the night tonight,'

'He won't, and I wouldn't even if he did,'

'Sure, tell yourself that. Have fun.' He disappeared before she could retaliate, vanishing somewhere in the confines of her psyche. She paced for a while, trying to work off her embarrassment. Before her frustration could mount into much more, she heard heavy footsteps approaching at a sprint behind her. She turned to see Tiny Mike come to a stop in front of her, bending over to brace his hands on his knees and catch his breath. He had a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead.

"Did you run here?" She asked, eyebrows raised.

"You said ten minutes," He said seriously by way of explanation. She checked her call log against her HUD.

"And yet, you took thirteen," She shrugged lightly, as if this bureaucracy would stop her from having her way with him.

"I was more than ten blocks away," He said incredulously between gulps of air. She reached a hand out to his bowed head, half-heartedly raking her blackened chromed fingers through the loose strands of his top knot. He looked up at her from beneath his eyelashes, his expression light and easy, the suggestion of a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. 

She brought her hand back as he stood straight again, still breathing heavily. In these shoes, they were roughly the same height, him maybe a fraction of an inch shorter. He cast his eyes over her appreciatively before commenting.

"I'm guessing you ain't dressed like that for me?"

"You don't like it?"

"Didn't say that," He scoffed, "Just not gonk enough to believe I'm that lucky,"

“Clever boy,” She commented, letting her fingers idly hook one of the belt loops on his cargo pants, “I was going to find fresh meat tonight, but some Tygers ruined my plans, so here I am,”

“I’ll have to write them a thank you note,” He mused, gaining a sternly quirked eyebrow and narrowed eyes from her.

“Don’t get cocky, Mike,” She gently tugged on the belt loop, drawing him closer to her. He took the initiative to place his hands on her hips, squeezing slightly and letting his cyber arm roam a little higher to the dip of her waist.

“Why not? Gonna punish me?” He drew his bottom lip into his mouth slightly, hissing an exhale as V brought a hand up the back of his neck and harshly tugged around the bun of his topknot. She pulled until his head was at an angle, presenting his chromed jaw to her mouth and exposing his throat. V fought the urge to bite him or lick his Adam’s apple here in the street.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She murmured deeply, already feeling her former embarrassment slipping away. Tiny Mike’s eyes fluttered shut and his grip on her tightened. She could see his jaw tremble slightly and it sent a rush of pleasure through her core.

“Yes, please,” He could barely get the words out, and she knew she wouldn’t have heard him if she was any further away. She guided him even closer by his hair, stepping into his space so his hands could slip around her back and down to her ass, squeezing generously. Her legs tingled as she pressed her lips just below his ear, feeling his pulse thrumming away.

“Then take me upstairs like a good boy,” V delighted in the heavy exhale he let out upon hearing her. She’d learned fairly quickly that, as much as Tiny liked being berated and punished by her, he also really liked praise. She was happy to tell him when he was good so long as he always understood that it was on her terms. 

He’d not let her down yet. 

She released his hair and removed his hands from her, prompting him to turn towards his apartment building and hold the door open for her. She said nothing to him between the main door and his apartment door, simply striding ahead of him and waiting impatiently at any doorway for him to trot around her and open it, including the elevator. 

In her real life, V wasn’t like this at all. Petulant arrogance like this was better suited to a corpo bitch with a stick up her ass, and V didn’t like to think she was actually inconveniencing those around her. 

However, this was her game, and V’s game was all about becoming someone she wasn’t for a night. When she was playing, or hunting as she and Johnny had come to refer to it, she was the empress of the whole world. 

She hadn’t crawled up on the streets of Heywood like a stray dog, always searching for scraps, be it food, eddies, or shelter. 

She hadn’t struggled her way to adulthood, always uncertain about what her future held, if her future even existed at all. 

She hadn’t thoroughly lost herself in Atlanta just to come back to Night City, the inevitable center of her universe, with her tail between her legs. 

She hadn’t turned to mercenary work as the only available option and she hadn’t befriended Jackie and she hadn’t followed him loyally into a death trap and she hadn’t watched him slip away in the backseat. She hadn’t.

No.

When V was hunting, she was the empress of the whole world and nothing bad had ever happened to her. Her head was high and her stride confident. She was a shimmering, glistening pearl in a world of neon and cheap plastic. 

V shook her head briefly, shaking away the past and the reality of her life, and steeled herself with the superiority of her fantasy as the elevator door opened. Walking down the corridor toward Mike’s apartment, she came to a silent stop just shy of the entry pad, waiting for him to step around her a final time and allow them both access. 

She didn’t thank him. He stood with his head quietly bowed as she slinked past him into the apartment.

“Can I offer you a drink?” He asked, closing the door behind him and waiting for a signal from her that he was allowed to move around.

“You got whiskey?” She turned her head slightly to look back at him over her shoulder.

“Yeah,” He took one step closer to her.

“You got bitters?” She placed a hand on her hip, canting more of her weight to one side.

“Sure,” Another step. He was right behind her. She felt his slow, heavy breaths on the back of her neck. 

“Soda water?” She didn’t look him in the eye.

“Uh-huh,” He placed his hand, his real hand, on her unoccupied hip, gripping firmly and trying to pull her closer. She let herself sway backwards, her ass making contact with the firm bulge in the front of his pants. She leaned into him with a pleased hum, drawing out another hissed breath from the man.

“Make me an old fashioned,” She stepped away from his grasp and headed towards the apartment windows, adding over her shoulder, “And take your top off,”

He got to work straight away, unstrapping his usual ballistic vest and peeling off the gray t-shirt beneath, letting both items fall to the ground. 

V heard him pace over to his drink trolley, clinking glasses and scooping ice out of a container. She didn’t look back at him, instead craning her neck to see if she could make out the bar from here. She’d heard the sirens, and she could see the flashing lights from the squad cars; they’d probably made a few notable arrests tonight. She wondered if her cop would be receiving any accolades for his work. 

A hot tingle creeped up the back of her neck. Shame. Embarrassment. She couldn’t tell if it came from her or Johnny, somewhere in the depths of her mind. She couldn’t see the bar from here after all. The gentle tinkling of ice in a tumbler approaching her drew her attention away from the windows.

“For you,” Mike said, passing her the glass and watching as she took her first sip, waiting for her approval. She raked her eyes across the contours of his lean torso as she drank. It was a damn fine old fashioned.

“Thank you,” Her lips curled up into a small smile that didn’t reach her stern eyes and she saw his shoulders sag with the slightest relief, “You not drinking?”

“You think I should?” This was why she enjoyed Tiny Mike so much; he let her make every last decision. The entire world was hers when she played her game with him.

“No,” She said decisively, “In fact, I think you should sit down; you look a little hot still,”

He took a few steps backwards until the backs of his knees hit his couch, sitting down without ever letting his eyes leave her. She stepped toward him, taking another slow sip as she eyed him up and down.

“You know,” She began, slowly reaching her free hand up behind her neck to unclasp the halter neckline, “You do look awfully hot, Tiny. Still sweaty from your run?”

He nodded silently, taking in the sight of her as her dress fell to her waist. She watched his eyes fall to her tits and didn’t miss him swallow hard, his lips gently parting. Another step and she stood in front of him, his knees almost touching her. She held her glass out in a silent demand and he took it. A rush of excitement coursed through her when he made no motion to take a drink for himself. So obedient.

“Good boy,” Her voice was firm and smooth as she watched his eyelids flicker for a moment. A tiny bead of sweat rolled down the side of his forehead, trickling down his temple, his cheekbone, and dripping off his jaw, landing on the flat expanse of his bare chest. V could feel the tell-tale fluttering of her arousal in her lower abdomen and clenched her thighs together for some momentary relief. 

She hooked her thumbs into the waistline of her dress and shimmied it down to the floor, stepping out of it and using a slim heel to send it across the floor behind her. Towering over the couch in her heels, V placed a foot on either side of Mike’s bent knees, revealing her choice to forego underwear for the night.

“God,” He let slip, leaning his head back against the couch to look her up and down, drawing his lower lip between his teeth. V raised a knee up beside his on the couch cushion, slowly pulling herself into his lap and straddling him. He made no move to touch her; he knew he would only be rewarded if he was good right now. She moved her hands to lie flat on his chest, leaning closer until her mouth was almost touching his.

“Are you still hot, Tiny?” She kept her voice low and deliberate. He nodded. V fished an ice cube out of the tumbler he still held and brought it to his mouth, “Lick it,”

Tiny Mike held her eye contact as he darted his tongue out to the ice cube. He used the broad flatness of his tongue to caress the sides of the cube, running over her fingers in the process. Just before he could close his lips around it, V pulled it away. She held it up for a moment, examining the streams of melting water already running down her forearm. 

Gently, she held it over his collar bone, letting the drips fall to his skin. She watched him shiver under her and felt herself get wet at the sensation. 

Sighing with delight, V trailed the ice cube slowly down Tiny Mike’s torso, making patterns with the cold water left in its wake. His breath hitched as she glossed it over his nipples, and then again when she pressed it a little firmer over the ridges of his abs. By the time the ice cube was brushing against his waistband, it was all but completely melted, only a small chip remaining.

V brought it to his parted lips, pushing it into his mouth with no resistance. He closed his lips around her fingers, sucking on them as she slowly pulled them free. V shifted forward in his lap, pulling their crotches together and grinding into him. The moment his mouth opened to groan, she pushed her tongue past his lips.

His mouth was cold from the ice, sending a shiver down her spine. She wrapped her hands around his neck, rolling her hips into him and feeling him vibrate with a low moan under her. His unoccupied hand tentatively came to rest on her hip. She allowed it, enjoying the cool feeling of the cybernetic digits slowly sinking into her skin. 

Pulling back for breath, she let her head fall back as her hips kept rolling. She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through the shaved hair at the back of his head. Between that shorn hair and his metal fingers, she could almost pretend she was somewhere else. There was the hot sting of the embarrassed shame again. The gentle clinking of the remaining ice cubes in the tumbler brought her back to the present.

V shuffled back on his lap so she straddled his thighs once more, removing the friction she knew he wanted on his crotch. She reached over to take her drink from his hand, savoring another languid sip as she absentmindedly trailed her other hand down his chest, using a single finger to trace the divots between his lean musculature. His heavily-lidded eyes watched her throat move as she slowly swallowed, his newly-empty hand coming to rest at the top of her thigh. 

She slyly dipped her fingers into her glass, swirling it a couple of times to coat them, then pushed them past Mike’s lips, watching him taste the sweetness of the whiskey and the gentle fizz of the soda water. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking her fingers with such fervor as she eased them out of his mouth, pushing them back in, and out, and in again before a final retreat.

Tossing the last of her drink back, V fished out the last solid ice cube and placed the empty glass on the side table. Without the tinkling of liquor, the new silence hung easily between them as she watched him watching her. Gently, V traced the last ice cube along her collarbones, down to the peaks of her breasts, taking an extra few seconds to lavish the ice around each nipple. 

She continued the trail down her abdomen, briefly dipping into her navel, and down to the soft, hot wetness of her pussy. She rose up on her knees above Mike’s lap, cradling the remnants of the ice cube around her swollen clit in slow circles. Her free hand came up to cup her breast, twirling her fingertips over one stiff, cold nipple as she hummed with satisfaction. 

When the ice was all gone, she trailed wet fingers up Mike’s arm to the side of his neck. Leaning in, her wet breasts pressed to his flat chest and she slowly licked the shell of his ear. He shivered when she whispered her command.

“Lick it,”

Without hesitation, Tiny Mike’s tongue was trailing along V’s collarbones. He used his grip on her hips to hold her up higher, granting him clearer access to lick her breasts. He swirled his tongue over her nipples one at a time, probing and gently nibbling as she sighed at the sensation, digging her fingers into the taught skin of his shoulders. V pulled herself off of his lap, laying down on the couch beside him and spreading her arms over her head in a lazy stretch. 

Mike moved with her, hovering over her on his hands and knees to lick the melted path down her stomach. He dipped his tongue into her navel and her breath hitched. The sound made him falter for a short moment before she brought a hand to his hair, encouraging him to continue. His mouth made its way to her inner thigh, teasing at the edges of her wetness. She shifted beneath him, getting closer to his face.

“Touch yourself,” She commanded hoarsely. He immediately freed his cock from his cargo pants and started a leisurely pumping pace. As he did so, he rested his weight on one elbow, slicking his tongue from her core to her clit. “Good boy,” She hissed through her teeth at the sensation, gripping his hair firmly.

Mike whimpered and his pace quickened, not only on his own member but against her sex too. His tongue laved around her slick clit, sucking and pressing with fantastic pressure. V felt herself rapidly unwinding, pushing her hips up and grinding her soaking cunt against his face. She could feel the tension in his arm as he pumped faster and faster, his cock twitching and hard as it made contact with her leg. She moaned loudly into the relative quiet of the room as she felt pleasure unfurling from her core down the length of her legs.

“Good boy,” She sighed, tugging on his hair and relishing the rumble from his throat as it vibrated in her folds, “Don’t come, Tiny. I want you to touch yourself while I come on your face. You are not allowed to come, do you understand?”

She felt him nodding against her, not relenting the movements of his tongue or his hand. She surged closer to her release.

“Good,” She could feel him holding himself back, waiting to hear what she knew he desperately wanted to hear again already. She grinned to herself, the whole world was hers, “Good boy,” There it was, and he was moaning and whimpering and pushing her over the edge into her orgasm, pumping his hand violently along his throbbing length. 

V felt herself spasming and twitching under his tongue, schooling her face into a restrained expression and tilting her neck back so he couldn’t see her pleasure. Her mouth hung open in a silent, choked reverie of self-restraint as her muscles tensed and relaxed in pulsing waves.

She forced herself to come around quickly, not wanting to linger on the sensation in his presence. V pushed on Tiny Mike’s chest, pushing him back up to a seated position and following to perch herself beside him on the couch. His hand slowly came to a stop on his cock, anticipating that she would tell him what she wanted next. 

She took a few seconds to admire how it weeped, dribbling desperately from the head and trickling down his rigid length. V reached a single finger out, tracing the throbbing line of a prominent vein up the side of his dick. She tapped on the frustrated reddened head and felt a rush of predatory glee as his whole body twitched at the feeling. 

Swirling a thumb over the head, she took inventory of his quaking jaw, the way his eyes screwed shut, the relentless bobbing of his throat as he tried to steady his breathing. 

He was helpless. 

V settled in beside him, gently resting her head in the crook of his shoulder. She let her fingers trail up and down his thigh, stroking the fabric of his cargo pants.

“Take these off,” She ordered, watching as he rapidly hoisted himself completely free of the rest of his clothes in a matter of thirty or forty seconds. When he repositioned to their seated arrangement, she reached a hand down to cup his balls in a feather-light touch. V let her head fall back against the couch to get her lips closer to his ear, whispering, “Touch yourself. I want to watch you come all over yourself for me like a desperate, dirty, dog.” 

His clenched fist was pumping at lightning speed with a noisy, slick rhythm immediately, his heavy breaths and moans completing the sordid symphony. V’s gentle caresses quickly became firmer and firmer, eventually squeezing with consistent pressure as Mike’s breath hitched. He stalled, his jaw tightening, and she took in the sight of cum streams hitting his washboard abs with hungry eyes.

While Tiny was still coming down from his high, V straightened and stood from the couch, striding over to his kitchenette in just her heels. Fetching a small bottle of water from the fridge, she stood at the sink and drained it in one gulp. By the time she’d fetched another and brought it to the couch, Tiny had cleaned himself off and produced an oversized sweater from the back of his couch. He held it out to her, huffing nervously when she quirked her eyebrows in confusion.

“Uh, I was wonderin’ if you wanted to stay here? Y’know, it’s pretty late…and I heard there’s a buncha angry Tyger Claws about tonight,” He flashed a hint of a charming grin.

V could have sworn she could hear Johnny snickering somewhere in her mind. She froze in place for a minute, thinking about her options. She knew she should leave, put her dress back on and make her way home. However, she couldn’t pull herself past the fear of facing Johnny’s mockery when she was on her own again. But maybe it would only be worse if she stayed. But then again, there was always the chance that she’d run into the cop if she left now. 

V knew it was unlikely, but even the possibility was enough to convince her. She reached out and took the sweater just as Mike’s arm began to falter. Passing him the water bottle, she pulled the garment over her head and adjusted it to sit comfortably around her hips and thighs. When Mike held her bottle out to her, she held her hand up, palm flat.

“That’s for you,” She explained, leaning down to slip her aching feet out of her heels. Restored to her usual height, she looked up at him to see genuine surprise and joy on his face.

“Thanks, V,” He smiled softly, sipping tentatively as if he expected it to be poison. She smirked at him; it was a little bit sweet that he thought she was some kind of saint for giving him water from his own kitchen. She turned and headed to his bedroom. She’d been in his apartment before, many times - she preferred not to take conquests to her own home. 

Mike’s bed was comfortable and spacious, and he’d initially impressed her by always having crisp, white sheets readily at hand, something that usually got her juices flowing. While she’d never slept here before, she knew she wouldn’t struggle to drift off amidst his luxurious heap of pillows. 

She clambered between the sheets and let her head fall back with a sigh, eyes slipping closed. Somewhat nervous shuffling at the doorway caught her attention and she opened her eyes once more to see Tiny Mike hesitating at the threshold.

“Do you…do you want me to take the couch?”

She hauled the sheets back from the mattress on the empty side of the bed, patting the newly-opened space. Her game was over for the night, and she wasn’t going to feel good about leaving him out there while she slept alone in here. Especially since Johnny was more likely to show up if she was alone.

“You can sleep here,” She smiled jokingly, “I’ll allow it.”

“Thanks, V.” He smiled back shyly, scratching the back of his neck absently as he walked around to the free side of the bed. He opened a drawer and pulled on some clean boxers, slipping into the sheets beside her quietly. She turned to sleep on her side, facing away from him, and he followed suit obediently. He didn’t say goodnight and she was grateful. She didn’t say anything either. 

Instead, the last conscious thought that drifted through V’s mind in Tiny Mike’s bed was of broad shoulders, big arms, and her best estimation of what it would feel like to have thick, chrome fingers pressing on her throat. The now-familiar burn of shame followed her into her sleep.

Chapter Text

Between his tall stature, broad shoulders, and scarred face, River Ward was used to intimidating people. His natural expression veered closer to unimpressed disgust than anything welcoming, he knew, and he preferred for people to leave him alone for the most part. Despite his size, he usually found it easy to hug the walls and observe without being observed, largely, he assumed, because people didn’t like looking at his disfigurement for long. His optic was not a seamless upgrade like the ever-popular Kiroshis. Hell, it wasn’t even a neat installation like other optics of its kind. It left gnarled scar tissue that struck out across his left cheek and temple. 

Initially, he’d tried to lean into the whole ‘chicks love scars’ thing, and it had worked for a while. Lots of girls he met thought it was hideous, of course. Others suggested they could come around to it, provided he changed something else, like grew out his hair or stopped wearing his jewelry. It wasn’t all bad, though. Some of them were into it, enjoying the edgy look it lended him. Eventually, though, even they mentioned synthskin or upgrades, hinting at the changes they’d like to see. By the time he turned thirty, River had mostly lost interest in pursuing anyone, embracing terminal bachelorhood. He had no plans to change his face for anyone. And so, he didn’t mind that most people didn’t look at him for too long after taking in his dour face and twisted scars.

Tonight had been no different.

He’d stayed mostly in the shadows of the bar’s dim lighting, scoping out any signs of Tyger Claw presence. He didn’t usually do these kinds of gang busts, but he owed some favors around the precinct, and word on the street was one of these Claws had connections to an unsolved homicide on his docket. The scanner in his cyber eye revealed enough to confirm the Claws and their associates weren’t here yet, so he decided to blend in and pretend to enjoy a beer for a while, getting a scope of the exits.

Then he saw her.

Shimmering in the low light like an opal, she moved across the bar and seemed entirely oblivious to him as she passed by. He lowered his head automatically, almost in reverence, feeling like he shouldn’t look her in the eye. Silver platform heels and painted toenails caught his eyes, and he followed them up caramel-colored legs to watch the way her dress clung to her hips as she weaved through the crowd to order a drink. It had to have been an expensive material, based on how it scattered light around her, giving her a soft, mesmerizing glow. Her exposed back displayed toned shoulder muscles and a debilitatingly compelling divot down the center where her sinuous spine sat. The base of her back was accented with twin dimples that begged for his attention. It would be rude also to ignore how her shapely ass maneuvered onto a stool with silent grace.

And so he’d watched her all night. She worked the room like she owned the place, and he couldn’t make sense of her behavior. He was convinced she must be klepping valuables from the men she approached, but he couldn’t figure out why. Her dress had to cost thousands of eddies alone. The thought crossed his mind that maybe she was one of those corpos that got a kick out of theft. He’d dealt with them before in his rookie years. Usually women, usually young, usually shoplifting from some corner store just for the thrill of getting caught. Nothing ever happened with them, their parents paid off their crimes every time. 

The thought of it made him grit his teeth, frustrated at the injustice. But something didn’t fit the M.O here. If she was klepping things, where was she putting them? She had no discernable pockets and didn’t carry a bag. A dark recess of his mind wondered if there was some hidden storage space under the skirt of her dress. He wondered what she could be hiding between those thighs. He wondered what he would do to find out. 

She sauntered past him again and broke him from his reverie with an enticing waft of fragrant air. He couldn’t ignore the combination of coconut, mint, and liquor as she effortlessly drifted by. There was another smell, too, something he couldn’t quite place. Something addictive that sparked an unfamiliar craving in the depths of his stomach. He barely registered that he was staring at her for the next half hour until he eventually saw her rising from her barstool again, turning to face him head-on. 

Somehow, the view from the front was even more hypnotic than her bare back. Turns out the long legs and curving hips led to an equally curvy chest that made his mouth water. The neckline of her dress felt like an invitation to ogle freely, but he still schooled his gaze away immediately. Almost immediately. Quickly enough that she probably didn’t notice. To the casual observer, he might have just been admiring the thick curtain of tar-black hair that fell over one exposed shoulder. That’s what he told himself.

Her neck was long and elegant, accented with gray cyberware linings that compelled him to continue his journey of exploration further upward.

Her face was something for which he was entirely unprepared. A slim, defined jaw and prominent, round cheekbones. Dark, angular eyebrows. Cute nose, dusted with freckles, he was devastated to learn. Her lips. Full, pillowy lips covered in metallic burgundy lipstick and rimmed with a glistening line of silver that gave him the perfect excuse to gawk. A silver stud sat snugly between a plump lower lip and a contrastingly dainty chin. For the first time in his life, River was jealous of an inanimate object. He cast his eyes upward in an effort to avoid becoming bitter and noticed a prominent scar across an otherwise unmarred forehead. A new kind of rage burned hot in his chest at the thought of someone besmirching that flawless plane of warm, honeyed skin.

Under her gaze, his feet became lead and his heartbeat stuttered erratically. When she got close enough, when he realized she was in fact coming to talk to him, his breath hitched at the sight of her eyes.

Dark, gunmetal gray with gently curving, vertical pupils. He’d seen poster ads for the cat-eye Kiroshis before, but feeling their disarming effect in the flesh was something else. The pupils were rimmed with a bright gray so pale it was almost white, further exaggerating the feline feature. In the middling light of the bar, her pupils were somewhere between the thin slits he remembered from the posters and the wide circles he imagined they must look like in the dark. For a desperate moment, he tried and failed to conjure the mental image of her with blown-out pupils, and then she spoke and he was lost at sea.

He never anticipated that she’d talk to him. He never anticipated that anyone that looked anything like her would talk to him. When she offered her hand out, he noticed chromed fingers. Looked like gorilla arms. Between that and the Kiroshis, corpo-shoplifter-come-bar-fly-pickpocket was making less and less sense. That’s when the thought occurred to him that she was probably part of the operation tonight. A distraction. A literal tiger sent to keep him off the scent of the Claws. Or maybe a tigress was the right term. In any case, he was definitely distracted. He panicked and gave her his go-to fake name, hoping maybe she wouldn’t peg him as a badge.

But then, if she was a distraction, why did she try to walk away after his first fuck up? For that matter, why did he stop her from walking away? He was like a fly, struggling against the web and getting himself more tangled as a result. When he couldn’t stop fucking it up and she stalked off again, he knew he had to follow. It was clear to him by now that she was either a dangerous Tyger with an arrest warrant he should pursue, or she was the output of a dangerous Tyger with an arrest warrant he should pursue.

When he heard the Tyger squad burst in behind him, her genuine surprise threw him off yet again. She clearly had no idea this was about to happen. So, who was she? If she hadn’t been directed to distract the biggest cop in the room, why had she talked to him? Looking into her pinched pupils as she took in the scene, he thought maybe she really was just another corpo civilian. Some of them invested in cyberware like a hobby, or an effective business asset. Between her eyes, her hands, and all the lovely rest of her, she definitely struck the balance between dangerous and sexy in a way he imagined was highly effective in a boardroom.

He’d protected her and asked her to wait for him while he dragged his mind back to the task at hand, the reason he was here. He was on the clock, but he was absolutely going to talk to her again at the next available moment. Work first, then the girl. He’d had to repeat the mantra several times before the image of her in his mind would step aside.

When the dust settled and the arrests were made, River made sure the squad had the situation under control before hitting the steps up to the exit three at a time. He pushed the door open and cast his eyes around the space in a way that he dearly hoped conveyed casual interest and not desperate longing. It was late enough that the streets were somewhat quiet, at least as quiet as they tended to get in Night City. He couldn’t see her anywhere.

Several NCPD prowlers had pulled up, flashing red and blue lights and casting shadows, throwing everything into a purple hue. He scanned the street in both directions, pushing past arresting officers and curious onlookers. Maybe she’d wanted to get away from the growing crowd. He checked the alleyway beside the club. Empty, a dead end. 

Why hadn’t he got her contact. Moron. 

Not willing to give up hope yet, he descended the stairs once more and headed straight to the bar, addressing the server.

“Do you know the woman you served tonight?” He posed, his face serious. He could make this bartender believe he was pursuing the tigress for professional reasons, he told himself.

“Which one?” The man replied, wiping down the bar’s surface with vague disinterest.

“Which one?” River rolled his eye, in disbelief that the server didn’t instantly bring her image to mind, “The Tyger Claw. Said her name was V. Leggy, black hair, luminous dress?”

“Oh her, she’s a Claw?” 

Again, doubt crept into River Ward’s mind. Maybe she wasn’t a distraction. But then, why did she leave when he’d asked her to wait? It made sense that she would slip away into the night if she was part of the Tyger hit though.

“You know her?”

“Nah,” He shrugged, “Seen her here before, but she don’t waste much time talkin’ at the bar. Usually shops around a little and leaves on some gonk’s arm,”

Damn, another dead end. River’s eye flashed blue as he sent his contact to the server.

“Let me know the next time she comes around here to shop.”

“Sure thing, officer.”

With an amicable nod, River turned to leave once more. He clocked out and started walking home. It was only a few blocks from the bar to his apartment and he could use the opportunity to clear his head. It also didn’t slip his mind that there was the slightest chance he could run into her. His apartment building was a modest Japantown multi-story, placing it firmly in Tyger Claw territory. She could be slinking around somewhere. As he walked, some small part of him remained vigilant, looking for shifting stripes in his peripherals. 

Of course, he didn’t see her. He got the distinct feeling that, even if she had stuck around and stalked him home, he never would have spotted her. Despite being entirely unmissable, he didn’t doubt that she could become a shadow or even a cloud of smoke at a moment’s notice. He reached his building after a disappointingly uneventful walk home.

River Ward always took the stairs in his apartment building. He lived on the fifth floor, and the stairwell wound around itself in such a way that left him with ten small flights to overcome before he could reach his front door. Still, the cardio was preferable to the dingy, cramped, and unpredictable elevator that always had some kind of fluid leaking down the walls and lurched from floor to floor like a yo-yo. It was the safer choice.

When he reached his apartment, he removed his holster and placed his revolver in a small locker under his desk, confining it for the night: a small ritual that brought him little peace, but, like the stairwell, felt like the safer choice. Peeling his top off ahead of his shower, he caught the faintest smell of coconut on the fabric. It hit him like a poison dart, and surely the image of her that forced its way to the front of his mind now was its hallucinogenic side effect. 

Suppressing thoughts of her was difficult, largely because he didn’t want to; he continued to undress in a trance as he made his way to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Standing under the stream of water, she prowled through his mind at a leisurely pace. Remembering her legs, the ease of her stride, how high she held her head. He washed himself sluggishly, his mind replaying her every shimmering motion, trying to remember the last time he’d been  this enthralled by a mystery.

When he was a young boy, River’s father had given him a book, a real, physical book, of logic puzzles for his birthday. The man recognized that his son could run around the farm all day, but he was still restless if he hadn’t thoroughly worked his mind. Although the gift was borne out of a paternal desire for eight hours of sleep, it quickly became River’s most prized possession. Every night, he lay in bed and worked on putting the pieces together until he puzzled out the truth. He relished in the satisfaction he got from weeding out the details and uncovering something new. Having a mind packed with questions also helped him drift off without difficulty, much to his father’s relief.

Between the orphanage and foster homes, he eventually lost the puzzle book. Either he left it somewhere, or likely another kid stole it when he wasn’t looking. That was before he learned to be more careful and make safer choices. Some thirty years later, River still occasionally felt the faint sting of remembering that he’d never finished it. Somewhere out there, puzzles remained unsolved, sitting in a book that had once felt his father’s hands.

Laying in his bed this night, not a young boy but a thirty-eight-year-old man, he was filled with the same childlike wonder he’d had all those years ago. He wondered if someone had surreptitiously wired a braindance wreath onto his head somewhere between the bar and his bed. Mentally, he was trapped in that bar, looking into monochromatic tiger’s eyes and replaying her rich, raspy voice over and over again. His thoughts ran through all the questions she raised, the newest puzzle book in his life.

Who was she? Tyger Claw distraction tactic had seemed like a decent bet, but it still left holes too big for his comfort. She didn’t look like a Tyger, per se. She had none of the typical tattoos he was used to seeing on Claws. Hell, she didn’t even look asian. She looked more like a Valentino to him. But that made even less sense. A lone Valentino ganger in a bar in the heart of Japantown? Not likely.

So, that left his corpo thrill-seeker theory. But then, why didn’t she wait for him outside the bar? And if she wasn’t supposed to be a shiny distraction, why had she been talking to him? The bartender said she usually mingled for a while before choosing someone to take home. Was that why he’d seen her talk to those other men? It did seem unlikely that she’d stolen from them, given the established lack of pockets. But that still left him curious about why she’d approached him.

Was it possible she was considering leaving with him? He was torn between the overwhelming desire to let himself believe it and thinking of any other, more feasible, explanation. If she had wanted to take him home, surely she would have been there when he left, right? Right. So, not that. Unless she had been waiting and ended up meeting someone else.

But that didn’t bear thinking about.

He had no idea how long he stayed awake, turning over thoughts of her in his mind like puzzle pieces that surely fit together somehow. When sleep found him, his brows were still stitched together in frustrated confusion. The poison dart was potent, and he had the distinct feeling he wasn’t going to be able to unhook her claws from his mind anytime soon. Wasn’t sure that he wanted to either.

Three days later, River Ward sat in his truck, pulled over in the midst of Little China. He wasn’t as familiar with Watson as he was with Westbrook, but it wasn’t unheard of to be thrown to all corners of Night City when he was working a case. The Tyger Claw bar bust in Japantown had been a success, and one of the perps coughed up a few leads about his homicide case. His partner, Harold Han, was born and raised in Little China. But Han lost the coin toss, so he was catching up on the paperwork while River chased up a potential informant.

He was noting his truck’s mileage for his monthly report when he was nearly blinded by something reflecting the sun directly into his eyes. Looking out his windscreen for the offending shine, he identified the guilty party: the steel toes of a pair of boots. The shining silver steel accented burgundy cowboy boots that looked like synth crocodile skin. The boots stopped just below the knee, leading to tight, black leather pants, leading to a black waistcoat with a burgundy trim down the button line and along the edge of the collars, leading to a bandana hanging loose at the base of a neck. He knew before he looked what the bandana led to; he had recognized her legs immediately without even needing to see her skin.

There she was.

She stood on the street with her arms crossed,  shifting from foot to foot, her eyes lit up blue on a call. He couldn’t believe it. She stood there like she was anyone else. Like she didn’t know she was different. And people walked around her, unbothered by her, unaware there was a tigress in their midst. He took the time to thoroughly examine her, desperate to uncover more puzzle pieces. 

The first things to stand out were the twin shining blades slung low on her hip. He was enthralled to see a matching pair on the other hip when she turned slightly, still in the throes of her call. A duel-holster harness on her shoulders held twin pistols. His corpo theory slowly fizzled away in the recesses of his mind at the sight of her here, standing in the streets of Little China, dressed almost perfectly like a nomad. 

His eyes followed the solid heels of her cowboy boots as she paced in a tight circle. Her vest wasn’t something he’d ever seen on the Jinguji ads, and the way she wore it without a shirt underneath screamed ‘nomad’. 

Her bare arms now flexed as she gesticulated to whoever was on the other end of the line. He cleared his throat. 

Another glance at her bandana showed the classic paisley pattern on a black background. Imagining it up over her mouth and nose, he knew she’d look right at home in one of those tricked out nomad rides.

So, maybe a nomad. Although, she wasn’t wearing the hip harnesses he usually saw on them, and her leather pants didn’t look padded, unless her thighs weren’t as thick as he thought. He doubted that with desperate optimism. It wasn’t quite feeding the creature in the back of his mind, but he was beginning to wonder if that would ever be satisfied. 

He refocused as she absentmindedly ran a hand through her hair. It slicked down her shoulders and back like an oil spill, shining almost as bright as her boots as she moved around. And then, of course, there was her face.

Even though he’d replayed their meeting ceaselessly for three days, his memory didn’t live up to the real thing. Her neck seemed longer than he recalled. Her lips were, somehow, fuller. She wore that same metallic burgundy color again, and the silver lining added to her enchanting shine. River watched her mouth move and cursed that he was too far away to catch any hint of her voice. The flashes of bright, white teeth kept him watching ‘til her call ended and her eyes faded back to their feline perfection.

He only got the briefest flash of the smoky gray before her head was turning and she was striding down the street, away from him. River barely noticed that he’d left his truck before he was nearly run down by a passing motorist. He quickly herded himself to the sidewalk and kept a measured distance between the two of them.

A voice in his head asked what the hell he thought he was doing. What was his plan here? Follow her all day? What if she turned around right now and recognized him, what then? Ask for her contact immediately, he thought. And what if she accused him of following her, like she’d accused him, correctly, of watching her all night at the bar? Apologize, and then ask for her contact immediately, was the response.

So he tailed her through Little China for a while. Her gait was every bit as hypnotic as it had been the first time he saw her, even without the dress and the high heels. Her vest accentuated the narrowest point of her waist from behind, the seam overhanging her pants by mere millimeters. He envisaged how easy it would be to reach the same bare skin he’d touched three days ago if he could just slip a finger under the hem. 

He tried to keep his eyes at a more respectable level as her hips swayed, but her ass looked so good and a part of him was scared he’d never see it again if he looked away. 

After several minutes, he wondered how far he would follow her. Like, if she strutted all the way out to the Badlands right now, would he mindlessly follow her into the desert until she turned around and threw one of those knives between his eyes? Probably. Had he always been this much of a schmuck?

Before he could dwell on the thought, she turned suddenly, looking both ways before crossing the street. Thankfully, she didn’t clock him twenty feet behind her. He waited until she was almost around a corner on the opposite side of the street before he hurried across the road. Around the corner, he saw her dip into Urmland Street: bigger than an alley, not big enough for a road. Again, he hung back for a moment or two before heading down the same street.

Ahead of him, he watched her enter a store and slip completely out of sight. He followed, of course he followed, until he was nearly at the threshold. He strayed to the opposite side of the street to avoid being spotted from within the store. Misty’s Esoterica and Chakra Harmonization, the neon sign read. Chakra harmonization? Is that the kind of thing V believed in? 

A part of him, the same part that frequently looked to his tri-feather pendant for ancestral guidance, hoped so. Another part of him, the part that had been a detective in Night City for fifteen years, hoped she thought it was bullshit.

River tried to make out what he could of the store’s interior from this distance by zooming with his optic. He couldn’t see V in there, but he could tell it was a tight space. He wouldn’t be able to follow her in there without being spotted. He considered doing it anyway when his holo went off: Han was calling. Against his desires, he answered.

“Ward,” Han started, “Tell me you’ve found the informant and you’re not just gawking at strippers,”

River showed his confusion plainly, until he noticed the background on his video feed. He turned to see he’d been standing in front of a window with a pole dancer on display. A good detective should have noticed that, he thought. Hell, even a shitty detective should have noticed a scantily-clad pole dancer in a window.

“No luck yet, but I’m headed to the store the Claw mentioned now,” River lied, looking to deflect, “How’s the paperwork coming along?”

“Oh it’s a gas,” He drawled, “Phelps is takin’ it off our backs though, Captain wants me out there with you,”

“How come?” River tried to hide his disappointment, knowing he’d have to leave his post outside Misty’s Esoterica.

“Well don’t get too excited,” Oops, River thought halfheartedly, “I don’t know why he wants me there. Maybe he’s worried you’ll get lost - doesn’t exactly look like you’re hard at work right now. Unless you are literally hard at work,”

“Nice,” River sneered, “I’ll flick you the co-ords and see you there.”

“See you in fifteen.”

The call ended, and River briefly glanced up and down Urmland Street to make sure V hadn’t slipped out of the store while he was occupied. Obviously she hadn’t; he would have seen her if she had, especially since he hadn’t looked away from the entrance for even a half a second.

Sighing, he heaved himself into motion and forced his feet away from the pull of Misty’s Esoterica. He had to get back to his truck and head to the meeting point in time to avoid taking any more shit from Han. He wondered how long he’d have to wait before Night City deigned to put her in his path once more. With every step, he feared his mental picture of her was already starting to deteriorate.

He looked for her everywhere he went. If he was lucky enough to stumble upon her like he had done, surely he’d be able to find her when he was actively scanning in all directions. And yet. River Ward never thought of himself as a lucky guy, and it seemed like his luck with V sightings was running out already. Every night for the past week, he’d plodded up his ten flights of stairs, locked away his revolver, and wound down from the day’s events by returning to his tigress puzzle, clutching the feathers of his pendant and hoping tomorrow would bring him more clues.

It was nine days since their initial meeting when River got his next clue. He was weaving through the station bullpen, headed toward his desk, when he overheard her name. He instantly snapped his head around to see Phelps, Hanson, and Jiminez looking at a subcon file on Hanson’s computer.

“That’s her?” Phelps said in disbelief, leaning his hip against the desk.

“I’m tellin’ you, man, that’s V,” Hanson replied from his desk chair, gesturing to what looked like a blurry security footage still on his screen, “The same V whose been pickin’ up all these subcons the last week,”

“Damn,” Jiminez contributed, arms crossed, raising one of her eyebrows and leaning a little closer to the screen, “She’s a real smokeshow, huh?”

“Looks like it,” Hanson answered, grinning like an idiot.

“What’s this about?” River interjected, stepping up to the desk, desperate to get a closer look at the still but schooling his face into its usual stern facade. They jerked their heads towards him in unison, looking like deer in headlights. He was at least one rank above all three of them, so he knew he’d get away with inserting himself in their jollies.

“Uh,” Phelps cleared his throat, clearly uncertain about how to continue under the detective’s scrutiny, “We were just lookin’ at this chick merc, V, sir. She came outta nowhere takin’ subcons everyday this last week, sometimes two in a day. Coupla the boys on the beat got caught under Tyger fire yesterday, said she helped ‘em out. Said she was throwin’ knives and layin’ the Claws out flat,”

So, definitively not a Tyger Claw. V was a merc? That was a valuable puzzle piece to add to his collection. Still didn’t answer his burning questions about who she really was, but it was a solid start.

“They say anything else about her?” He asked, looking between the three expectantly.

“They said she was smokin’ hot,” Hanson answered a little too enthusiastically, following up quietly with, “Sir,”

“So,” River began, letting authoritative disappointment seep into his tone, “The three of you saw fit to find a still of her to ogle while she’s been out bustin’ ass doing your jobs?”

Their faces dropped and River took inventory of the way they looked to the ground like kids being sent to detention.

“Sorry, sir,” Jiminez piped up first. River had always admired her guts; this wasn’t the first time she’d offered herself up for hard work, whether it was picking up an extra shift or taking one for the team when they were in trouble. He gave her a firm nod, conveying that he wasn’t going to punish her further.

“I want you to send me that subcon file and any other files on her,” He directed his words at Hanson, who was already nodding vigorously, turning back to his screen, “Including that still, assuming you’re done gawking. I’ll see to her payments myself. I’m sure you’ve all got more important work to be doing.” 

Jiminez and Phelps both retreated to their desks with bowed heads. If they caught on to the irregularity of a detective arranging subcon payments, they didn’t show it on their faces. He assumed their own guilt did most of the work for him, and his role as an authority figure covered any other suspicions they might have had.

River headed to his desk, trying to keep his feet from moving too fast, fairly certain he was moving at a light jog anyway. He opened the email from Hanson and immediately opened the security footage still. Suddenly his screen was filled with her; even out of focus, she was all he could look at.

The angle of the security cam was high on the wall, giving him a head-to-toe snapshot vision of her action sequence. She was mid-knife-throw, one arm bent up over her head, the hilt of the knife casting lens flare out as she pinched the blade. It looked like she’d just lurched up from a crouch to take aim; her hair was a frozen hurricane of motion around her head. River was disappointed he couldn’t see more of her face from this angle. He was, however, delighted to see a delectable amount of tanned, toned, midriff.

She wore a form-fitting, long-sleeved, black shrug of some kind that was cut above her chest, where a deep red cropped tank drew his eyes downward. Black cargo pants hugged her hips, leaving the twisting muscles of her flank on full show. He thought he could make out some markings on the hip closest to him, but the quality of the image wasn’t enough to satiate his burning curiosity. Continuing down her form, he couldn’t help but admire her poise.

Her legs were bent at an angle that made it easy to imagine her lunging at her prey with effortless vigor. River allowed himself a moment to envisage how it must have felt for the Tyger Claws on the receiving end of her blade. Terrifying, he supposed. Thrilling, surely. Another adjective he thought he probably shouldn’t lend much weight to; incredibly sexy. 

He closed the document and shook the thought away, knowing full well that it was - at best - a temporary fix. She might linger in the shadows of his mind for a few hours if he keeps himself busy, but he knows he’ll see those tell-tale stripes and tiger’s eyes again when she sees fit to lunge from the undergrowth and sink her teeth into him.

Should probably check the other files Hanson sent.

River opened the subcon documents, scrounging for a morsel about his tigress, something to feed the creature in his mind for a while. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised to learn nothing new. Her name was only listed as ‘V’, so at least he knew she hadn’t given him a fake name in the bar. He felt a bit stupid for giving her a fake name now though. At the time, he thought she’d introduced herself as V to be cute, something mysterious or just generally using a moniker to throw him off the scent if she was a distraction.

But no, she really was V. V the merc. V the tigress.

And she really had been busy with NCPD subcons for the last week. They’d arrested six prominent Tyger Claw members and shut down three minor Claw drug kitchens across Westbrook thanks to her efforts. Impressive. He wasn’t surprised. The accounts department was on the ball and V was fully paid-up. Nothing he needed to do with the files Hanson had sent except close them and try to move on with his day. 

As if on cue, Han approached their twinned desks, picking up his leather coat from the back of his chair and shucking it on over his shoulders.

“C’mon, Ward,” He huffed with the effort of adjusting his coat collar, “The informant’s info checks out. We got arrests to make.

“Let’s ride.” River stood from his desk, happy to have something more pressing to think about that didn’t include her. Maybe he’d be able to go all day without falling prey to her if these arrests were eventful. Probably not, but he held out hope.

That night, River had scaled his ten flights of stairs, locked away his revolver, and had his shower all without thinking of her. The arrests had ended up being eventful, if the deep nick in his right eyebrow was anything to go by. It was an easy stitch job for the medic and it didn’t sting too much by now, but it had kept his mind occupied with adrenaline. If he’d been slower, it might have meant a second eye implant. His thoughts had circled on that thought most of the rest of the day. He had to be more careful.

Tomorrow was his day off. He was going to go to the gym, work on some boxing drills, keep himself fast. After that, maybe he would try to find a store that sold real books. A new puzzle book might be just what he needed. Of course, as this thought crossed his mind, he heard the deep, grumbling, growl of that creature once again. Its prowling resumed as he settled in his bed for the night, impatiently demanding his attention. 

River idly held the feathers of his pendant, running the real fingers of his left hand along the ridged design halfheartedly. Thinking about the tigress puzzle only seemed to make her stronger, more possessive of his mind. It had been more than a week since they’d met, and he still knew so little. Was it right to pursue more puzzle pieces? Was it safe? Was he even able to stop?

The new questions that filled his mind tonight were heavy enough that sleep took him quickly, mercifully. He dreamed of a jungle, trying to stay low in the bushes and avoid the encroaching danger that could be hunkered down around every corner, waiting to lunge at him.

Chapter Text

In the end, River never got an opportunity to look for a new puzzle book. He left the gym feeling older than old. At his age, some part of him was always putting up a complaint, but this was worse than the usual neck cricks and shoulder knots. Trying to overcompensate for his near miss the previous day and his fitful sleep the previous night had caused him to throw a foolishly optimistic extra fifty pounds on all his usual lifts. Turns out, hauling three-hundred-and-thirty pounds over your head for the better part of an hour will make your body long for death if you’re not twenty-five anymore.

He’d just thrown his gym bag in the back of his truck when his holo rang out with Jiminez’s contact coming up. River climbed into the driver’s side before answering, his newly-exhausted arms crying at the effort.

“Jiminez,” He nodded to her image in the corner of his vision and the hairs on the back of his neck raised at her twitchy demeanor.

“Sir,” She nodded back, glancing around her, seemingly ensuring she was alone, “We just got an arrest that I think you’re gonna be interested in,”

“Go on,” River felt his jaw tightening.

“Name’s Péter Horváth. He was shooting dumpsters in Arroyo, screamin’ about Mayor Rhyne,” Her eyes kept shifting around her peripherals, her voice low.

“What did he say?”

“He said he had to meet with the mayor. Said it had to be today. He was crazed. Sir, I just went down to holding to get his statement. He wasn’t there,”

“What?” It wasn’t a question.

“He wasn’t there. Somebody’s let him out,” Her voice faltered slightly, “He’s gone, sir,”

“Alright, Jiminez. Good job. I’m headed to city hall right now.”

“Yes, sir.”

He ended the call and threw his truck into reverse, pulling out of the gym parking lot and grimacing at the painful full-body tension coursing through him. 

River made it to city hall in the nick of time to bring Péter Horváth down before the cyberpsycho could reach Mayor Rhyne. Not soon enough to prevent a security guard from taking two mantis blades to the gut, but River tried to remind himself that he couldn’t save everyone. He barely got a whole day to work on unraveling who at the station might have released Horváth before things got worse. 

The next morning, he woke up with aches in muscles he didn’t even know he had. River switched the TV on while he stretched, listening to Gillean Jordan break down the day’s events. He was pushing himself to touch his toes when she broke the news. Mayor Rhyne was dead.

River straightened up immediately, cursing at the protest from his lower back. Supposedly it was a heart attack; Rhyne died peacefully in his sleep. Well, that had to be bullshit. River slowly rolled his shoulders and headed for a hot shower, something of an apology for the mistreatment he’d given his body.

Standing under the water, he cranked the temperature high. He needed his skin to sting a little, just to take his mind off the deeper discomfort settling throughout his body. Inhaling thick steam and rubbing his sore limbs, he thought about the mayor. Rhyne was hardly the picture of health, but River had seen him yesterday and he seemed solid enough.

The questions started rolling in, clouding his mind worse than the steam. Who was Péter Horváth? Why was he after Rhyne? Who at the NCPD let him go? What happened to the mayor last night? How did the NCPD factor into it? River didn’t want to believe it was an inside job, but he knew Night City well enough to avoid naive bullshit for the most part. The Night City Police Department was formed almost entirely from corrupt cops and power-hungry sociopaths, although of course the most corrupt and most sociopathic were usually snatched up by MaxTac eventually.

No, River Ward had no false allusions about the state of his workplace. The entire reason he’d joined the force was to do the work the NCPD neglected. As he dressed for the day, River started planning how he’d propose a thorough investigation into Rhyne’s death to his captain. He mentally prepared himself for the inevitable wrist slapping he’d receive as he headed out the door.

Sure enough, Captain Faulk told River to drop it. He walked back to his desk and it must have been obvious that his tail was between his legs, based on Han’s sour sympathetic face.

“No takers, huh?” Han offered, looking at River over the top of his glasses.

“Course not,” River heaved his shoulders, dropping into the desk chair beside his partner’s with a heavy thud, “It’d be askin’ too much to actually investigate a crime in this city, wouldn’t it,”

“Well,” Han turned his chair towards River’s, fiddling with a pen between his index fingers, more interested in its movement than in making eye contact, “We don’t actually know there’s a crime here. Rhyne had a heart attack, can’t exactly orchestrate shit like that,”

“C’mon, you don’t believe that shit,” River also found himself watching the pen, preferring it to Han’s grim expression.

“Ehh,” Han shrugged, raising his eyebrows and turning his mouth up in uncertainty, gesturing vaguely with the pen.

“Han, be serious,” River swiped the pen from his partner’s hand, forcing Han to look him in the face, “Even if we concede Rhyne died peacefully in his sleep, someone sent Horváth after him. Someone in this building let that cyberpsycho out of police custody yesterday. That’s a crime, it’s worth investigating,”

“Ward,” Han’s tone was severe as he held out his hand. River dropped the pen into his open palm, “There’s nothing you can do about it now. Faulk told you to drop it, Rhyne’s already dead. Let it go,”

“You know what I say?” River fought to keep his tone even despite his clenched jaw. It wasn’t Han’s fault this bureaucratic shit was littering the path to the truth.

“What?” Han sighed wearily, already disinterested.

“Fuck Faulk,” River stood up from his chair, turning once more to Han before heading for the exit, “Something stinks here, and I’m gonna find out what.”

Every night for the next week solid saw River working over the different possibilities surrounding the death of Lucius Rhyne. He didn’t bring it up to Han again, knowing that it could only get him in trouble. The frustration of the mystery occupied his mind with such ferocity that he didn’t have room for anything else. Even her.

These days, V only slipped to the forefront of his thoughts when he slept. She was usually just a brief vision, a shapeshifter, jealously clawing at him for ignoring her. When he woke from these dreams, always exhausted, always sweating, he spent his morning showers carefully confining her to her cage again. By the time he left his apartment each day, his mind was back on Rhyne, where it stayed until the weight of the unanswered questions sent him to sleep each night.

It had been fourteen days since an infuriatingly handsome cop ruined V’s game, not that she was counting the days. She wasn’t. In those two weeks, she’d completed ten subcons for the NCPD, demanded Tiny Mike’s presence seven times, and consumed roughly three bottles of O’Dickin whiskey. These things were all unrelated coincidences, she told herself. Of course, Johnny had other opinions.

‘V, why are we doing this shit?’ He asked incredulously, doing a great job of distracting her as she took cover behind a concrete parking barrier. She’d been on her way through Japantown when she heard the gunfire, following the sound to see three NCPD beat cops pinned down by eight Tyger Claws.

‘Why would I pass up the chance to elevate my rep and take down some Claws?’ She replied, pulling a knife from her thigh holster and hucking it between the eyes of an unsuspecting ganger.

‘He’s not here, y’know,’ Johnny drawled.

‘No idea what you’re talking about,’ Came V’s clipped reply, taking aim and hurling another blade, allowing herself a small fist pump when it landed firmly in the chest of a particularly mouthy Tyger.

‘Yeah you do. That giant cyclops fuck you can’t stop thinkin’ about is not here. So why the fuck are we helping these pigs?’

‘Doesn’t hurt to have some good favor with ‘em,’ She replied, hoping her sudden bristling at the mention of him wasn’t as obvious to Johnny as it felt to her, ‘Plus the extra eddies,’

‘The extra eddies, right,’ His crossed arms and condescending expression told V he wasn’t buying her explanation.

‘Shut up and maybe I’ll spend some of those extra eddies on cigarettes, just for you,’ Another pitch had her blade singing through the air, making a quiet, satisfying thuun as it made contact with the back of a Tyger skull.

‘Sure,’ Johnny raised his palms submissively as she aimed her fourth knife, ‘I mean, who knows, maybe he’ll write you a heartfelt thank you note. Dear V, thanks for saving my chooms the other day. Say, how would you like it if I fucked you on all fours and pulled your hair as a gesture of my appreciation?’

Her last blade missed its target.

‘Well, now you’re definitely not getting cigarettes,’ She tried to sound stern, ignoring how hot her face felt.

‘Woe is me,’ Johnny drawled, smiling smugly. Satisfied with his work in embarrassing her, he flickered out, leaving her alone with the mental image she’d been fighting against for two weeks now. She shook her head, unclipping a pistol from her shoulder holster and emptying the magazine into the remaining gangers.

She walked around the scene when the last Tyger dropped, using her boot to hold their bodies down as she heaved her blades free. One of the cops approached her when she was wiping her last blade, finally slipping it back into place at her thigh.

“Hey,” He called out, jogging over to her like a friendly neighbor looking for a cup of sugar, immediately unsettling her, “Hey there. Just wanted to say thanks for helping us out. Looked like a sticky situation just now, don’t know how we woulda made it out without you,”

V looked him up and down as he spoke. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-two, fresh faced and seemingly giddy to be cleaning up the streets. His eagerness made her uncomfortable. She briefly curved her lips up in a tight, polite smile.

“Don’t mention it.” She walked away with long strides before he could say anything else, desperate to be out of sight again. Maybe Johnny had a point. Why was she doing this shit?

That night, V strolled into her shoebox apartment in Megabuilding H10 just after 1am. She let out a breath and felt her shoulders start to relax at the comfort that came from being in her private sanctuary. Pulling her boots off, she placed them neatly by the door, double-checking the lock and turning on her radio, letting the Principales station fill the air. 

The aggressive bassline of Latin hip hop was completely at odds with the aesthetics in V’s little slice of paradise. The floor was decorated with a white, fluffy rug that filled one half of the room. Paper lanterns were dotted around the place which, combined with the pink string lights adorning the walls, provided a soft, warm light, contrasting starkly with the unrelenting neon that filtered through the window.

V had gone to great lengths to beautify her apartment, her safe space. This was a place with no memory of any of the things she’d lived through. Yes, she’d mourned Jackie here, but the number of positive memories with him in this space outweighed the sorrow, and her time in Atlanta was nowhere in this space. V’s apartment felt like the only place she didn’t have to pretend. 

The couch had no fewer than four throws of various sizes and patterns, all equally soft, in hues of cream and pink. She’d added about ten extra pillows to her capsule-style bed as well. One of her first significant purchases after becoming a merc had been pastel pink satin bed sheets. The luxury of sleeping between the swathes of cool, smooth material made her feel like a princess, not that she would ever admit that even under threat of painful death.

There was also a healthy population of stuffed animals dotted about V’s apartment. Her bed had an oversized sheep at the foot of it, the couch was home to a mid-sized seal that was her favorite headrest when she watched movies, and she kept a small, squishy cow plushie on her desk that functioned as a stress toy when she was browsing the net.

She kept her space fairly sparse and clean, although she had enough clothes in her wardrobe that it couldn’t close anymore, the sliding door stuck in the jamb. The large beanbag chair on the floor beside the wardrobe was permanently covered with discarded items she didn’t want to put away but were decidedly not dirty enough to go in her laundry basket either. 

Said laundry basket was also always piled high with yet more heaps of fabric. V pulled off the shrug and form-fitting tank she’d worn today and threw them to the top of the basket’s clothes pile, figuring she could still go another day or two before hauling it to the megabuilding laundrette. She wiggled out of her cargo pants, adding more motion than was necessary as the music started to carry her away, and held them to her nose for a few cursory sniffs before deciding that they were clean enough for the bean bag.

She sauntered into the bathroom and switched the shower on as Johnny materialized in the doorway, unabashedly watching as she peeled off her bralette and underwear, throwing both through to the main room. She dutifully ignored him, smiling to herself when her bra and pants landed squarely on the laundry mountain.

‘How can you listen to this garbage?’ He commented disparagingly.

‘How can you act like the oldest, deadest pervert alive?’ It wasn’t her best comeback, but she was tired. She stepped under the spray of the water and closed her eyes, letting out a long breath before opening her shampoo, enjoying a whiff and squirting it into her hand, starting to work it through her hair.

‘How can I be the deadest pervert alive?’ He scoffed, stood behind her, just out of the water’s reach, leaning his back against the shower wall, one foot propped up like the perfect cliché of a rebellious rockerboy. Just a short time ago, the idea of having a man here, in her space, watching her shower no less, would have been unimaginable to V. She’d become so accustomed to Johnny’s presence now, though. To V, Johnny was like an annoying, particularly vocal cat, following her from room to room, vying for her attention, ‘Not the most flattering comparison, V,’

‘Stop invading my thoughts,’

‘Can’t,’

‘Then at least shut up so I can enjoy my shower,’ V glanced over her shoulder at him, seeing him gearing up to reply, ‘If you shut up I’ll do the shampoo massage thing,’ That shut him up. 

Staying true to her word, V worked the shampoo into a thick lather, taking her time to dig her fingers into her scalp, working it thoroughly across her whole head. She heard Johnny sigh behind her, enjoying the secondhand relaxation that came from this simple activity. When the water washed away the last of the suds, she followed up with a small dot of conditioner, then moved on to her soap. Johnny never knew how to act at this part, wanting to enjoy the bizarre sensation of her touching herself all over, but always clearly uncertain about how it felt like none of his, her’s, their parts aligned with his mind. V usually just made quick work of the task, pushing ahead to her nightly ritual of what seemed to Johnny like a million pointless creams and lotions.

She had two towels wrapped around her head and body respectively, with one foot propped up on the bathroom counter, working moisturizer into her calf when he spoke up again.

‘You look like some uptight corpo cunt right now,’

‘In a towel turban?’

‘Slapping all that shit on. Didn’t you grow up on the streets?’ His eyes followed the thorough movement of her hands intently.

‘What about it?’ She shrugged, bringing her leg down and swapping to the other side, hitching her foot up on the counter.

‘Just seems weird to me that you care about stuff like this. Weird that your place is this…princess palace…when you’re a scrappy Heywood brat,’ He ignored the derisive look she gave him at his choice of words. She stayed quiet for a moment, considering his comment before responding.

‘I guess I just like knowing I can give myself what I never had. Security, comfort, luxury. I can take care of myself,’

‘Said the woman with a parasite destroying her brain that she chose to put there herself,’

‘Well, okay. For the most part, I can take care of myself, I guess.’ When she finished with the lotions and potions and she’d brushed her teeth, she hung up her towels on hooks opposite her bathroom mirror, strutting out to the main room and into the embrace of Muévelo playing on the radio. Johnny followed her, watching appreciatively as she sauntered over to her bed, moving with the music and pulling her pajamas from under her pile of pillows. She bent over to pull tiny silky white shorts up her legs, settling the waistline low on her hips. It was undeniably a great show, especially when she flashed a generous amount of side tit in the process of pulling on the matching loose silk tank top. 

V spent a few minutes puttering silently around the apartment, brushing her hair and weaving it into braids for the night, flicking the radio off, and switching off lights in seemingly every corner until only a faint pink glow from a tiny shell-shaped lamp on her windowsill was left. She tapped a button on the wall, bringing her metal blinds down and shuttering out the endless brightness of the city.

Johnny stayed silent as she pulled back the satin covers and slipped into her bed. She shifted around for a few minutes, adjusting her pillows and bringing a fluffy one into her arms before settling. It was then, as V closed her eyes and sighed from the bliss of being contained in her cozy corner of the crazy world, that Johnny decided to pipe up.

‘You gonna fantasize about that gigantic oaf again tonight?’

V responded by throwing the fluffy pillow in his direction, watching in frustration as it flew straight through his flickering image. He chuckled, satisfied, and disappeared, tucking himself away somewhere in the depths of her mind. V huffed out a frustrated breath, grabbing another pillow and readjusting until she’d calmed down again.

As she was close to drifting off, his beautiful, stupid face appeared in her thoughts. The regal line of his jaw. The effortless way his cheekbones jutted out. How long the lashes of his real eye were. She gritted her teeth, tossing and turning until she could finally drift off.

She woke up feeling slick and frustrated. Tension was coiled low in her belly, twisting and turning as her legs slowly shifted under the sheets. Everything was silky, letting her move around effortlessly, working her up even more. She kept her eyes closed, envisioning broad shoulders, remembering the firm grip on her forearm, the heat that radiated from his fingertips on the small of her bare back. The fingers of her right hand lightly trailed over her collar bone, almost without her knowledge. The delicacy of her touch brought goosebumps out across her arms and she felt her nipples start to tingle.

She brushed over the stiff peaks through the smoothness of her top, biting her lip to keep any noise from escaping her mouth. After a few passes of her breasts, she moved her hand down to her stomach, slipping it under the top and pushing back up to strum her fingers over the hard nubs again. Flesh on flesh made her clench her thighs, squeezing the tiny gusset of her sleep shorts against her slick core. Her mouth hung open in a labored breath as she tweaked and tugged on her nipples with both hands. Her legs started moving again, squirming as she writhed under the sheets. Absently, she wondered if she could make herself cum without actually touching her clit. Thinking of him felt like enough to bring her to the brink.

Despite that compelling concept, she let her right hand trail down to the waistband of her shorts. Her fingers played with the fabric, pulling at it for a few moments before slipping past it. The first gentle caress of her clit made her gasp quietly, shocked at how she was even wetter than she’d first thought. Before she could go any further, her agent started buzzing eagerly on the coffee table.

‘Thank god,’ Johnny groaned, fizzling into place on the couch, ‘You’re disgusting, you know that?’

V groaned wearily, briefly pulling the covers up over her face before slapping them back down and sitting up, glaring at him as she clambered out of bed. She slapped the switch on the wall aggressively as she passed, the shutters loudly cranking up, letting the invasively bright morning sun flood the apartment. She picked up her agent and flopped down on the couch next to Johnny.

“This better be fuckin’ good,” She grumbled aloud to herself before accepting the unknown user’s call.

“Good morning,” The woman on the other end of the line was a vision of elevated corpo sophistication, “Am I speaking with V?”

“That’s me,” She confirmed shortly, undecided if this call was about to be a problem or an opportunity.

“Excellent,” She even smiled like a professional, “I’d like to hire you for a job for my husband and myself,”

“Fantastic,” V’s customer service voice took over, smiling demurely, “And who might I be speaking with?”

“My name is Elizabeth Peralez,”

“And what can I do for you and your husband, Mrs Peralez?” 

“Well, I’d rather not get into it now, I was hoping we could meet in person? I’m available in two hours, I can send you the location,”

“That sounds perfect,” V flashed the most personable grin she could summon, internally clenching everything below the waist in an attempt to settle the broiling heat still lingering at her core, “I look forward to meeting you both,”

“Likewise, V.” Elizabeth Peralez finished with a polite nod, ending the call just after. V huffed out a sigh and dropped back against the plush couch cushions, idly grabbing her seal plushie and hugging it against her chest, pushing the final dregs of her lusty thoughts out to sea. Johnny adjusted to face her properly, bringing one leg up to fold himself comfortably.

‘Crazy how you can just turn that shit on,’ He commented.

‘Turn what on?’ She rolled her neck on the back of the couch, facing him.

‘That fake professional corpo persona. Very proper,’ His tone was torn somewhere between impressed and mocking.

‘Dunno what to tell you, I just copy other people,’ V stood from the couch, plopping the plushie in the seat she’d just vacated and heading over to the radio, blasting Principales. The heavy beat was the pick-me-up she needed, and she loosely samba’d her way into the bathroom, calling back to Johnny, ‘Now, come on. Let’s get ready to make some fuckin’ money,’

‘You mean you’re not gonna finish what you started before that call?’

“Fuck off, Johnny!” She called out loud from the bathroom, her frustration too large to be held inside her head. Johnny chuckled to himself on the couch, looking forward to another day of grinding her gears.

Just under two hours later, V was descending into the nicest car she’d ever touched with her own two hands, directed by Peralez’s huscle to enter the vehicle. She’d opted for a corpo-friendly getup in the hopes of winning them over. Low, sensible black heels and a smart purse complimented her knee-length black pencil skirt, while her silky cream blouse billowed out from the waistband, buttoned up all the way. She was meeting a married couple, after all, she had to look more respectable than risqué. Her waved hair was tucked into a loose yet professional bun low on the back of her head, but she’d kept her lip piercing and trademark metallic lipstick; she still wanted to feel like herself.

“You must be V,” The man in the seat beside her spoke confidently, eliminating any awkwardness that V had expected to arise from dropping herself into this stranger’s car. He extended his hand to her when she’d fully settled into the plush leather, “Jefferson Peralez,”

“Right, the mayoral candidate. I shoulda guessed from the name,” V took his hand in a short but firm shake, her eyes flitting between him and Elizabeth, turned to face them from the passenger seat, “It’s nice to meet you both properly,”

“You were right, Liz,” Jefferson commented cheerily, casting a smile between the two women before returning his attention to V, “Elizabeth is an excellent judge of character. She knew we were right to hire you for this,”

“I’m flattered,” V returned the smiles all round, her cheek muscles almost aching from the performance of it all, “Is this where I find out what exactly it is you’d like me to do?”

“Right! Of course,” Jefferson began, clapping loudly. V flinched at the sudden sound, this guy’s enthusiasm was almost blinding, “We’re hoping you can get some info out of this braindance for us, and hopefully investigate further,”

V held a hand out when Jefferson produced a BD shard from his pocket, feeling for her braindance wreath in her purse with the other. She looked over the shard between her fingers before flitting her eyes between the couple again, her pretend smile replaced with genuine curiosity.

“Pretty sure I’ll be able to get something out of this. But what exactly am I looking for? What am I investigating?”

“Lucius Rhyne’s death,” Elizabeth spoke with more severity than her husband, and a part of V appreciated her more subdued aura, “We have reason to believe it’s not as cut and dry as it looks on the news,”

“Political subterfuge? I mean, in this city, why not?” V’s reply seemed to work for them, if the look she saw them share was anything to go by.

“Perfect!” There was Jefferson’s eagerness again, bordering on hurting V’s ears, although she had to admit she was getting caught up in his energy, “We have temporary access to that braindance from Rhyne’s last public appearance at city hall. We’d like for you to take a look and see if you think it might be connected to his death. Naturally, we’ll compensate you for your time,”

“Alright, let’s take a look,” V nodded, pushing the shard into place on her wreath and settling it around her head. Her vision pulsed blue and the braindance started up, erasing her surroundings and replacing them with a clear view of the press room in Night City Hall.

‘You know what, V,’ Johnny glitched into the BD, taking in the space around him, ‘This might actually be interesting,’

‘That why you’re showin’ up where you don’t belong?’ She replied, smirking at his ruffled feathers.

‘It’s my brain too, right?’

‘Uh, no. No it’s not,’ She wasn’t sure if he could see her like this, or if he could technically ever really see her, but she sent him a stern expression regardless.

‘C’mon, lemme help. You could use someone with some experience in espionage,’

‘Experience in espionage, right. Just stay out of the way,’ V rolled her eyes.

She let the BD play, hopping in and out of editing mode to pick up on Rhyne and his bulldog, Weldon Holt, talking about something called Red Queen’s Race. She made a note of the name and moved on. The huscle scrolling the BD took up position at the door to the conference room, observing any comings and goings through the nearby security terminal.

Within a minute, someone pushed through the terminal, setting off the alarms. The man held something out in his hand as he turned back to the security technician, who promptly switched the alarm off. V’s breath caught in her throat when the man turned back and was promptly stopped by the huscle. Him.

“River Ward, NCPD,” He introduced himself, “I need to talk to the mayor,”

‘Motherfucker,’ V seethed, her jaw agape. Johnny flickered in beside the cop, throwing his arms up in frustration.

‘For fuck’s sake!’ V felt his exasperation and sympathized despite the sharp burning spike she felt between her legs, ‘Can this bastard just die already?’

V barely noticed that she’d paused the BD, barely noticed that she was taking in every detail in that entirely unique face like it was the first time, barely noticed when she entered third-person mode and rotated her view around him like he had a gravitational pull. The wide, furry collars of his coat made him look even broader than she’d remembered, and the top he wore beneath it revealed more of his neck and collar bones than she’d seen the first time. Leather pants clung to his meaty thighs, the material straining against the taut muscles beneath.

‘V, you’re gawking,’ Johnny’s tone was biting, but V couldn’t decide whether it was his frustration or her own that influenced the sound.

‘Motherfucker,’ It was the only thought that could formulate in her mind right now. How dare he be here? How dare he make her think about him ceaselessly for two weeks and then have the audacity to show up in this job? She’d taken shitty NCPD subcon after shitty NCPD subcon, practically throwing herself in his field of view, and gotten absolutely nothing from him, and it’s here that he finally shows his face? Motherfucker.

‘V,’ Johnny snapped metal fingers in her face until she turned her eyes away from the eye-catching metal clasps of the cop’s belt, ‘Let’s get outta here. Fuck this job,’

She pretended to consider it for a moment before shaking her head.

‘Nah, I need the eddies, plus this’ll be great for my rep in the city,’

‘Right, right,’ Johnny drawled, ‘You’re all about your fuckin’ rep,’ His lips made a popping sound around the word.

V brushed him off, not willing to dive further into the discussion right now. She jumped back into the first-person mode and let the rest of the BD play. Her cop - the cop - River fucking Ward, successfully prevented a cyberpsycho attack in the middle of Night City fucking Hall. She watched him approach the psycho with his gun still raised and felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

He looked so confident, so powerful, so in control. His strides were sweeping and surprisingly quiet, gliding through the space like he did this hero shit every day. Why wasn’t his face plastered on the news and the screamsheets? He’d saved Mayor Rhyne’s life. Right, V remembered, Lucius Rhyne is dead. So, if this BD was from the day he died, and Ward had clearly stopped an assassination attempt, what are the chances Rhyne would bite it in his sleep that very same night?

Seemed like the Peralezes were on to something after all.

She closed the BD and removed her wreath, only to notice the couple had left the car, now standing outside a nearby AV, sharing a cigarette. V thought it was cute; they seemed like a perfect match for one another.

‘Yeah, they’re fucking adorable,’ Johnny sneered, ‘Can’t believe you’re gonna take this job,’

‘You were the one who was just talking about how this might be real interesting,’

‘That was before it became all about that fucking neanderthal,’

‘Whatever, Johnny,’ V rolled her eyes, pulling herself up out of the car and crossing the space between it and the lingering AV. She held out the shard for Jefferson to take, watching the cigarette hang from his lips as he placed it back into his pocket. Elizabeth reached over and took the cigarette from his mouth, taking a drag herself. V felt a quiet twinge of jealousy; they looked so right together, completing each other. She didn’t get long to linger on the feeling before Jefferson spoke up, characteristically enthusiastic.

“So? What’d you think? What’s your professional opinion?”

“We want to know if something’s going on or if we’re just being paranoid,” Elizabeth added, once again more measured than her husband. V addressed them both, folding her arms and trying not to linger on how great the cigarette smoke was starting to smell.

“Well, I don’t think you’re paranoid. A cyberpsycho attack like that, right after the security team left, on the same day Rhyne died? Goes beyond a coincidence,” She said, taking in how Jefferson seemed to light up with satisfaction while Elizabeth became more grave, “If that cop hadn’t shown up when he did, I think Rhyne woulda been dropped right there. Badge’s either got great luck or great intel, an investigation like this needs both,”

“Well said,” Jefferson nodded, “Detective River Ward. Good guy, worked with him several times when I was a DA. I can set up a meeting if you think he’s got something you need?”

“Uh,” She tried to sound nonchalant, “Yeah, that’d be great. I’m sure we can pool resources and get to the bottom of this,”

“Excellent. You know what, you can have our usual table at Fantaji for tonight. I’ll call them and let them know to expect you, then I’ll let Ward know to meet you there at seven. You both deserve to enjoy a nice meal on our dime for taking this job,” Jefferson replied, practically beaming.

“If you wouldn’t mind, I’d prefer it if my name was left out of your conversation with Detective Ward,” V said, leaning slightly closer to the pair in a lighthearted conspiratorial way, “Don’t want him yapping to his badge buddies about this meeting, it wouldn’t be great for my reputation if it got out that I was having dinner with a cop,”

Jefferson tapped the side of his nose, smiling knowingly.

“Smart,” He huffed, “I’ll let him know we’ve hired a private contractor. You can introduce yourself properly tonight,”

“Perfect,” V grinned, aware she was baring her teeth slightly too much, too predatorial, before shaking their hands, first Jefferson, then Elizabeth, who had been smoking the rest of the cigarette in solemn silence for the last few minutes, “I’ll keep in touch to let you know what I find,”

“Excellent,” Jefferson’s apparent catchphrase, “Here’s the first half of your payment. Have a great evening, V. Try the California rolls at Fantaji, you won’t regret it.” He bowed a brief nod in her direction, then turned to his wife and took her hand, helping her up into the AV and following after. V watched as it ascended into the clouds, then saw the transaction hit her account to the tune of a jaw-dropping twenty-thousand eddies.

‘Holy shit,’ Johnny murmured, unable to completely restrain the surprise.

‘Right?’ V replied, ‘Just think of the dress I’m gonna be able to buy with that,’

‘Let me guess,’ His eyes were already rolling, ‘You’re gonna drop a ton of cash at Jinguji on an outfit specifically designed to make this cop weep mechanical tears from his robot eye?’

‘You know, Johnny, I think you’re finally starting to really get me,’

‘You’re not seriously gonna fuck a cop are you, V?’

‘Never,’ She said firmly, ‘What I am gonna do is make this cop think I wanna fuck him, make him wish that I would fuck him, and then watch him sweat, beg, and cry when I reject him,’

Johnny stayed quiet for a few minutes and V took the time to soak in the deliciousness of her planned revenge. Did River Ward deserve a revenge plan? She thought so. Punishment for the crime of ruining her life for the last two weeks, at least. For dividing her attention so catastrophically it was like her mind had been wrought in two. V pinged a Delamain, sliding into the backseat when it arrived and directing it to the nearest Jinguji store when Johnny reappeared beside her.

‘Not sure how I feel about your plan, V. I mean, is this what you really want?’

What was she supposed to say to that?

‘What do you mean?’

‘You really wanna play your game with this gonk? Nevermind the fact that you wanna try it on with him in the middle of a job? What if you fuck up the gig, get yourself or someone else hurt?’

‘What the fuck do you care?’ She could feel the sharpness in her voice and felt the spikes coming out, her shell hardening, pushing him away along with the pain and guilt of other fucked up gigs. Of Jackie. Johnny raised his palms to her, shrugging his shoulders.

‘Just wondering if this is what will really make you happy.’ With that, he vanished, leaving a brief trail of blue pixels in his place.

Since when did he care about what made her happy? V frowned to herself, fiddling with the nail ends of her gorilla arms as the car wove through Corpo Plaza. Would toying with River Ward make her happy? Was it what she wanted? A heavy, hollow feeling carved itself into her stomach. The same hollow feeling she’d experienced again and again over the last year. Since Atlanta. Since she’d done what she did. She looked at her blackened chrome fingers like a stranger’s. Could the blood on her hands still reach her if she changed the hands?

Blood on her hands, yeah right. Like it stopped at the hands in some kind of neat, scarlet glove. No, she was well aware the blood went much higher than that. She thought about River Ward again. Would it make her happy? Was it what she wanted? Had she ever had a real answer to either of those questions? She soaked in the weight of the hollowness like swollen driftwood until the car pulled to a stop outside Jinguji, whereupon she forcefully shoved the feeling away and soldiered on.

Leaning into planning a revenge outfit felt a hell of a lot better than dwelling on the past, at least for right now. So, yeah, punishing River Ward would make her happy. She was going to make sure it did.

River smoothed his button up shirt as he took a seat at the table in Fantaji, looking over his shoulder to take stock of the scene. The maitre de had led him to a chair facing the back of the restaurant - not his preference, but he didn’t feel justified kicking up a fuss. He’d never been here before, corpo hangouts like this were comfortably outside of his social and financial bracket. The crisp white tablecloth made him slightly anxious, worried he was destined to spill something on it. Beyond his intimate, round table situated toward the back of the restaurant, the hustle and bustle of the evening crowd made it difficult to identify Jefferson’s contact.

Of course, Peralez had given him little to go off anyway. He’d called around midday, telling River to look presentable and ensure he was at the restaurant by six forty-five at the latest. River knew he would attend the meeting before he even asked what it was about; he owed Jefferson a favor after the last case they’d worked together several years ago. But when Jefferson let slip that it was about Rhyne’s death, River was all in. He asked who this private contractor was that he was supposed to meet, but that was when Peralez clammed up.

So, here he was, sitting at a table he assumed was fashionably slightly-too-small, fidgeting with his not as fashionably slightly-too-small shirt, waiting for…someone. 

Despite how the setting filled him with a constant, low, humming stress, he could barely contain his excitement. Finally, someone else to talk to about Rhyne. He hadn’t made it far in his own search, only discovering that Péter Horváth had worked at the Cherry Blossom Market before shooting up dumpsters in Arroyo. He’d talked to Horváth’s old employer but didn’t learn much. There’s no way he’d paid for his own cyberware, but the detective already figured as much based on his file. He couldn’t wait to find out what Jefferson’s contact had dug up. With the kind of cash and influence Peralez had, River knew to expect something, or someone, impressive.

He returned his attention to his stiff shirt, resolving to undo the topmost button and allow his neck a more comfortable experience. With his eyes turned away from the entrance, he was caught completely off-guard by the light touch of a hand on his shoulder, jolting him to attention.

“Jamie? Is that you?” It couldn’t be. The husky voice that had permeated his subconscious was speaking behind him, not in his mind but physically here, in the real world. He turned his head to face her, entirely prepared for there to be nobody behind him, but there she was. 

Holy shit, what was she wearing? From his seat, she towered over him in sharp heels and he had to crane his neck to take her in, vaguely feeling like he was looking up at a deity.

Her dress started low on her thighs, further above her knees than the first dress he’d seen her in, he immediately noted with great interest. The dark red, velvety-looking fabric of it clung to her like moss adhering to a boulder, a second skin, accentuating every curve. The thick panel that sat across her breasts wound around her arms in neat bands, leaving her shoulders completely exposed, one side accented with her curtain of hair. When he dared to follow the soft waves up to her face, he had to remind himself to close his mouth.

Those lips were smiling at him, this time painted the same crimson shade as her dress and her shoes. Smoky gray eyes lined with black clawed at his attention and it was like Rhyne was a distant memory. What were the chances that Night City would place V in his path yet again? In this corpo palace of all places. Caught up in the surreal feeling of it all, River realized he hadn’t said anything. 

“V-v,” He was briefly amazed at his ability to stumble over a single letter, clearing his throat and clumsily standing to greet her properly, “What are you doing here?”

“Got a hot date,” She replied, holding his gaze with an intensity that made his throat feel tight. Of course she had a date, people probably lined up around the block just to ask for the chance. And of course her dates took her to places like Fantaji. You couldn’t take a girl dressed like that to some greasy burger bar like Chubby Buffalo’s, “I’m a little early though, mind if I sit with you for a minute?”

Of fucking course.

“Sure, yeah of course, sure,” He hurried around the tiny table to pull the chair out for her, feeling his gut twist when her smile went from sly to sweet. She cast her eyes up and down him before taking her seat and he tried not to look down the front of her dress when he gently pushed the chair in under her. He cleared his throat again, hoping it might clear his mind a little, and returned to his own seat. Sat across from her like this, the table small enough to easily reach for her, had him wondering if he should sit on his hands.

“So,” She began, stretching the sound out into a little melody, “What brings you here?”

Right, the job. He was here as a favor to Jefferson, not for whatever was happening right now. She rested her head in her hand, leaning on the table and watching him intently. The position exaggerated her already mouth-watering cleavage and River briefly wondered what kind of underwear she was wearing. Shit. He was here as a favor to Jefferson.

“Uhm, I’m on a job, technically,” His voice sounded completely alien, something gravelly and low. V shifted in her seat at the sound, leaning slightly closer, making his mouth water more.

“Oh? I’m not distracting you, am I?” She ran her tongue along the front of her teeth in a flash of movement that made his mind go blank for several seconds.

“Nah,” He finally spoke, “I’m waiting on someone too actually,”

“Oh yeah? Who’s your hot date tonight then, Jamie?”

Shit, he didn’t notice when she’d called him that the first time. He forgot he had given her a fake name. How was he supposed to navigate this? For now, he decided to just answer her question, buying himself some time to figure out how to address it.

“Not really expecting a hot date, to be honest,” He chuckled at her smirk, “I’m meeting a private contractor to investigate a murder together,”

“That sounds exciting,” Her lips curled up the slightest amount at the corners, “I’ll make sure I don’t take up too much of your time,”

She made a motion like she might get up and River almost lunged across the table at her. Thankfully, he reined himself in enough to settle for placing a hand near hers on the tabletop, gaining her attention in a more subtle way.

“V, before I forget, do you think we could swap contacts? You know, in case you ever need help from a badge or something?”

Something in her smile became a few degrees more evil than normal and he felt his fight or flight kick in, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end.

“That sounds great, one problem though,”

“Yeah?”

“How are we supposed to swap contacts when you gave me a fake name, River?”

Shit. Shit.

Fifteen years of training, learning how to think on his feet and handle intense situations flew down the drain. He had no idea what to do in this scenario. His blood ran cold while his chest felt hot, leaving him stranded in a metaphysical purgatory. V let him stew in the silence that fell over them, watching him falter spectacularly. It felt like minutes passed, but eventually she showed him some morsel of mercy and spoke.

“I’m Jefferson’s private contractor, River,” He was fairly certain his mouth was hanging open again, “Sorry it’s not a hot date,” There was that evil smile again, this time dialed up even further than before.

“Uhh-”

“I’m a merc. Not some shitty pickpocket,” Her smile became a sneer, and something dark overcame River, heaving him down to her level at the memory of some of the things she’d said at their first meeting. He didn’t have to let her walk all over him.

“And I’m a cop,” His tone matched her own disdain, clearly catching her off guard for a moment, “Yeah, they don’t let models in the NCPD, sorry to disappoint you,”

She looked away from him and down at her lap, fidgeting in her seat. River watched as a solid blush spread up her neck and across her cheeks and he felt a surge of adrenaline rush through him. Shit, it felt good to make her embarrassed like that. Like snatching power from a dictator, his own tiny revolution. He continued, suddenly emboldened by his newfound rush.

“So, if you’re not a pickpocket and you weren’t tryna steal from me that night, you must have really thought askin’ if I was a model was some smooth move, huh?” He leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and watching the red color of her face deepen, almost matching her dress. Shit yeah, that was the good stuff.

Before he could enjoy it for too long, her eyes snapped back to his, filled with a resolve as steely as their color, and he felt his power slipping away already. The dictator trying to crush the peasants.

“Hardly,” She replied flatly, rolling her eyes and then looking around the room like she was looking for somewhere, or maybe someone, more interesting than him, “Just because I wasn’t trying to steal from you doesn’t mean I wasn’t working you,”

“So you were on a job?” The partly forgotten tigress puzzle pieces started coming back to him. If she was five seconds away from walking off in a huff, he may as well get his questions out now. At least he could get some answers to the questions that had been plaguing him for weeks, “The Tyger Claws hire you?”

V felt her fists clench quietly on the tabletop, she pulled them back, placing them safely on her lap and out of slapping distance. This badge’s face was looking more and more hittable by the second, but she remembered Johnny’s warning about playing games mid-job. She still had a paycheck and a rep to think about. She turned her lip up at the detective and narrowed her eyes in a way that made it very clear that this was a stupid question.

“You think I would work for those human trafficking, drug dealing, murderous scum?” V felt the slightest bit of satisfaction when he seemed surprised by her even-toned outrage. His eyebrows angled upwards as he considered her. She watched the rich brown color of his organic eye trail up and down what he could see of her and suddenly felt like an insect under a microscope.

“The Valentinos then?”

“God,” She scoffed, “Some detective you are. I don’t like gangs, don’t work with ‘em. Least of all the NCPD,”

“The NCPD is not a gang,” River balked, thinking of his more favorable colleagues and mentally justifying that even the bad ones weren’t human trafficking, drug dealing murderers.

“Ain’t no difference ‘sides the uniforms and shiny badges,” V relished in the way this made his jaw set. She was getting under his skin, becoming a problem. Good. River rolled his shoulders, placing his hands on the tabletop and flexing his chrome fingers. V could almost hear the soft whirring of their internal workings, her eyes falling to observe more closely, as if by looking she’d be able to hear better. He tapped a finger loudly, returning her attention to his face.

“So, if you don’t work with the NCPD, why are you here?” His tone was strangely demanding, and V had to take a few seconds to remind herself of her interest in the case, in the Peralezes, and in her paycheck. She could handle one bossy cop if it meant elevating her street cred and moving up in the world.

“I told Jefferson I would look into this. I keep my word,” V figured sticking with short, authoritative answers would be the best tool against this tool. Before he could respond, a smartly-dressed waitress approached their table, blissfully unaware of the hostile air they were generating.

“Good evening, welcome to Fantaji,” Her voice was smooth and enthusiastic, clearly trained for the typical corpo clientele. V took in her pleasing, sweet face when she turned to take her order, “What would the lady like this evening?”

“The lady would like California rolls, thank you,” She answered without missing a beat. River wondered how many times she’d eaten here before to have an answer ready right off the bat. Probably on dates with guys who could buy and sell everything he owned like scop. Maybe his suspicions about her having a corpo life had been on the money after all. She cast a look his way like she’d read his mind, a specific smug expression that irked him like nothing else. He couldn’t do anything about it before the waitress was looking at him expectantly.

“And for the gentleman?”

“Ahh,” He glanced down at the menu in front of him, choosing the first thing with a name he recognized, “I’ll take the prawn soba noodles, please,”

The waitress nodded, her eyes flashing briefly as she sent their orders to the kitchen. V watched her smile widen as she and River made eye contact and felt something ugly churning within her. The pretty-faced girl even dared to cast a hand out and place it on his shoulder as she asked her next question and V thought her blood might boil over.

“Any drinks for you tonight, sir?” Even the peppy tone she used made V want to use a short circuit quickhack on her. River didn’t seem to notice, or possibly just didn’t care, that V’s jaw was working overtime, practically gurning across the table from him as she rolled her eyes.

“An old fashioned, please,”

That answer caught her off guard, and V realized her eyebrows were still raised in surprise when the two of them turned to look at her, waiting for her order.

“Make that two,” And with that, the waitress was, thankfully, gone for the time being. V watched her leave, mentally throwing blades in her back as she went. She was still staring when River spoke again, this time a little nicer than before. It seemed the intrusion of the waitress had helped to dissipate some of his hostility, if not hers.

“I have to say, I’m surprised that you’re the contact I’m meeting. I never would have guessed Jefferson would hire someone so…” He rolled his organic hand around in a small circle in the air, looking for the right words.

V waited with bated breath, curious and eager to know where this was going. Someone so…sexy? She hoped so, smiling slyly as if to encourage him to choose the right answer. Or maybe he was going to be traditional and say something like ‘so beautiful’? Her stomach fluttered uncomfortably at the thought and she suppressed her smile, keeping it from becoming sickly sweet. 

“...young,”

What. That had not been one of the options V was prepared for, nor was it one she was willing to accept. She scowled at him.

“You don’t know shit about how old I am,” She could feel her fists itching again, crossing her arms at her waist to reign them in. River took in the sight, torn between feeling compelled to eye her cleavage again and trying not to laugh at how petulant she looked in this moment.

“Spoken like a young person,” He chuckled, “Pissy about being accused of being young,”

“Well perhaps Jefferson thought you were too old to handle something like this on your own,” She was one step away from sticking her tongue out at him. She turned the conversation back to him, hoping she didn’t sound as immature as she knew she did, “What are you anyway, like forty?”

“Almost,” He nodded comfortably. It bothered V that he was completely unphased about being called old, taking it confidently in stride. It bothered her more that his response made her cross her legs tightly under the table, trying to abate the feelings building between them. Johnny briefly appeared beside the table, leaning on it like he was ready to take their order. V noted his disgusted expression.

‘You’re such a fuckin’ freak, V. Guy tells you he’s a fossil and you’re ready to flood your basement about it,’

‘Go. Away,’

‘I’m just sayin’, it’s fucked up that just hearing he’s old is enough to get your engine revved up,’

‘Johnny,’

‘I’m going, I’m going.’ And with that, he dispersed into pixels, leaving her and the detective alone once more. River seemed to take her silence as a sign to keep running his mouth.

“There’s nothing wrong with being young. I’m just surprised that Jefferson would put his trust in someone so inexperienced,”

“Inexperienced?” V was seething, and River briefly recalled how he thought those Tyger Claws must have felt when he saw the security cam still of her, mid-knife-throw. Terrifying? Yep. Thrilling? Check. Sexy? Most definitely, “And what exactly do you know about my experience level, detective?”

River especially enjoyed the way she said ‘detective’, rolling it around in her mouth and spitting it out at him. Between the sadistic joy of winding her up and the sweet delight of embarrassing her, he was relishing in the transition from intimidated to turned on and back again.

“Well it’s not like you have a big name in the city,” He shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling when she raised an eyebrow at him, sharp as a knife. If she was a corpo, it must be killing her to be talked down to like this.

“Big enough to be hired by Jefferson Peralez, and experienced enough to know that you tried to warn Mayor Rhyne about the cyberpsycho attack at city hall the same day he died,”

That did surprise him. V felt her smile turn smug as she took in his raised brows. He shifted in his seat and she momentarily felt his foot against her leg under the table. She moved away automatically, having to clench her thighs to keep her foot from reaching out to skirt up the side of his leg. How would he react right now if she slipped out of one heel and slid her foot up to his lap? She didn’t get the chance to ponder the question because the stupid waitress was back with their drinks.

“Here you go,” She announced with a tone of pride and accomplishment like she was curing cancer, or at least so V thought, “Your food will just be a moment.”

Neither V nor River responded, although V felt a surge of rage when River turned to the waitress and smiled at her in thanks before she walked away. V spoke before she could think, just wanting to feel his eyes on her again.

“I also know that Rhyne was headed to the Red Queen’s Race the night he died,”

River turned back to her, considering her face and words with equal interest. Maybe he had underestimated her. It wouldn’t surprise him, after all he initially thought she was into low-level petty theft, but here she was investigating a potential political assassination with him. Not only that, but the mention of Red Queen’s Race was a brand new lead for him. But surely a more experienced merc wouldn’t be giving up info like that free of charge? Torn between impressed and confused, he kept his face stoic. She didn’t need to know how he felt right now.

“Seems like you know a lot,” He kept his voice measured, not eager to give his interest away.

“What I’d like to know is why you went to city hall in the first place,” Her sharp pupils appraised him with an obvious degree of suspicion, “All alone, too. And I thought cops were like metros,”

“Hmn?” River managed in response, caught off guard by her comment.

“Never there when you need ‘em, then two come along at once,” She took a long sip of her drink and River couldn’t help but watch the way her neck stretched and moved as she savored it. He wondered what it would feel like to trace his fingers along the gray cybernetics there. He wondered what function they were serving her. Maybe something in those winding gray lines gave her the powers it seemed like she possessed. She swallowed her second sip loudly, calling attention to the fact that his eyes hadn’t left her neck for too long.

“Well, my partner wasn’t with me when I decided to hit up city hall,” He worked his eyes up her face, past those ridiculously tempting lips, and to her steely eyes. A long moment lingered between them then, their eyes boring into each other, and River could swear he felt her foot brush his calf for a second before the waitress came back with their food.

“Who’s your partner?” V spoke over the waitress, not giving her a chance to announce herself, seemingly furious at her return. River filed another tally mark under the corpo theory; they never were known to have manners for ‘the help’, so to speak. He decided to wait until their dishes were in front of them and the waitress had quietly bowed and left before answering her.

“Name’s Han, miserable prick but he’s a decent cop,”

“Harold Han?” She asked, using chopsticks to pick up her first piece of sushi and gesturing towards him with it, “Asian, middle aged, face like a moldy cork?”

“The very same,” He laughed openly at her eerily accurate description, raising his own chopsticks and twirling some noodles around. It smelled amazing, definitely better than the type of food he was used to buying. He wondered what it was like to be someone who ate here all the time. Wondered how often V had eaten here. Hell, maybe she thought it was boring, so used to dates shelling out trying to impress her. He chanced a look at her to see she was chewing her sushi roll thoughtfully, seemingly unconvinced about its quality. She would know, he thought. She’d probably eaten the California rolls at Fantaji a dozen times, maybe this batch wasn’t up to snuff.

“So,” She spoke around a mouthful of rice, surprisingly unladylike, “Han obviously wasn’t there because he’s a piece of shit. But why were you there, detective?” She pointed her empty chopsticks at him like a weapon and he took his time chewing his noodles, giving his brain some buffer time to settle from hearing her spit that word at him again.

“Just a gut feeling I got, thought the mayor might be in serious trouble,”

“And so you went to play the hero and save his life? Were you hoping for some media attention for a daring exploit like that?” She narrowed her eyes and her voice had taken on that smug affectation again. River wanted to make quick work of dismantling it, hoping to either make her mad or make her blush as soon as possible.

“No, I actually turned down the press requests,” He raised another mouthful, making sure to grab a prawn in this one.

“Huh,” Not quite mad or blushing, but speechless was a decent alternative in his book, “So you just did it because what, you got a good heart?”

“There something wrong with that?” River gave her a solid stare, ensuring his words hit home. If there’s something he needed her to know about him, it’s that his moral compass was steadfast and true. He would not waver. Sure enough, the earnestness in his response threw her off, and she looked down at her plate to avoid him. He noticed her push a second sushi roll around the plate as if debating if she should eat it. She looked sheepish and it made his chest warm up more than the first sips of his whiskey had. He decided to give her a break and change the subject, “Something wrong with your food?”

V looked up at River, surprised and endeared by his genuine concern. She’d confidently scarfed down her first California roll, but she didn’t like how it was sitting in her stomach. Jefferson seemed like a great guy, but V definitely didn’t have a refined enough palate to enjoy his recommendation. She considered River’s face, the way his mouth looked slightly downturned, like he felt sorry for her. It was sweet and condescending all at once and she didn’t know how to process the tingling sensation it gave her. She decided to respond honestly.

“Not sure I like it is all,”

“Not up to your usual standards?” A bad batch, like he’d figured.

“I guess,” She shrugged, “I’ve never had it before, so I don’t really know what I was expecting,”

“Oh?” So maybe not a bad batch, “What’s your usual go-to here?”

“I don’t have a usual,” She furrowed her brows at him like he was an idiot, and based on how it seemed impossible to pin down a single theory on her, River was beginning to feel like he might be an idiot indeed.

“So you get something different every time you come?”

“What?” Her upper lip turned up in a shape that conveyed she couldn’t believe what she was hearing, “I’ve never stepped foot in this building once in my life before today,”

Shit. River felt like cleaning his tigress slate completely and starting over. Nothing about this woman made any sense to him and he couldn’t get enough of it. Time to use reverse psychology to erase his corpo theory for good, he thought.

“I thought corpos like you loved places like this?” He posed innocently enough.

“What?” There was that tone again from when she’d seethed at him earlier. River felt the same waves of apprehension, intimidation, and horniness that made him want to pull down the front of her stupid strapless dress and finally see the prizes at the end of that cleavage, “You think I’m a corpo?”

“You’re not?”

“No, you moron,” Yeah she was real good and mad now. River almost dropped a hand to the crotch of his pants under the table, feeling himself stirring in response to the adrenaline rush.

“I just figured from the way you dressed, how you ordered without looking at the menu, how pleased with yourself you seemed, it made sense,” He watched as her grip on the chopsticks tightened until they snapped. Her gorilla arms could probably lay him out flat. Maybe that’s what would happen if he worked her up enough.

“You know what,” She started, picking up her glass and downing the rest of her drink in one smooth motion, “I think I’ve had about as much River Ward as I can stomach for one night,”

She picked up a thick, white napkin from the table and dabbed the corners of her mouth elegantly. River watched how the stud below her bottom lip caught the light when she moved it around and felt a sudden urge to press his tongue against it. He stood when she did, wondering if he could get away with arresting her right now to keep her from leaving. She held a palm out to him, as if she was about to use mind powers to keep his hands off of her. It seemed to work.

“Please, stay, finish your meal,” Her tone danced somewhere between courteous and cutting.

“But you’ve barely eaten. We can share mine if you’d like, you might prefer it,” River noticed something softened in her sharp eyes at that suggestion. She was touched by his genuine offer. Some part of her clearly wanted to stay, but he could tell she’d made up her mind and she wasn’t about to embarrass herself by going back on it.

“Thank you, but I think I’d prefer a greasy burger bar to this pretentious ritzy shit,” River wondered if that was the first genuine thing she’d said to him all night. It seemed like she’d let it slip, her eyes widening just slightly upon realizing what she’d said. She’d prefer a burger joint to this place? Was she perfect, he briefly thought. He imagined taking her to Chubby Buffalo’s in this red velvet getup. How the other cops and lowlifes in the joint would think he was the luckiest son of a bitch alive. He wondered if she’d let him fuck her in those grimy bathroom stalls. He mentally slapped himself, coming back down to earth before she could walk away.

“What about the case?”

“I’m sure we’ll do just fine working separately. You seem like a decent enough cop, and I’m an excellent merc with plenty of experience, after all,” There was that superiority again. River was willing to let it slide this time, just wanting one more thing before he’d be willing to part with her for now. When could he trust Night City to give him another chance this good?

“Well let’s at least swap contacts, then. You can call me if you need any help,”

“Fine,” She replied flatly, her eyes flashing as her contact info hit his holo, “But don’t expect a call,”

“Thanks, V.” River nodded his head slightly, grateful she was willing to offer this compromise even when he’d clearly pissed her off as much as he had.

“Don’t mention it. Oh and River,” She held her right hand out to him expectantly, waiting for him to offer his chrome hand, shaking it gently when he did, “Good luck out there.”

He squeezed her hand for a second, trying not to overthink the way her fingers seemed to linger on his palm plate before dropping back to her side. She walked away as quietly as she had come, and of course River let himself indulge in the view of painfully tight red velvet across the curvature of her ass as she sauntered off, her hips begging him to follow. Instead, he sat back down and finished his meal. He ate the rest of her California rolls too, deciding they weren’t really his thing, but he wasn’t about to turn down food with this kind of price tag.

Her words reverberated in his head as he considered his new Red Queen’s Race lead. Good luck out there. He knew he’d need it.

Chapter Text

‘So, color me fuckin’ confused over here, V,’ Johnny began, fizzling into view beside her and keeping pace as she exited Fantaji and headed to the parking lot, ‘I was under the impression that the entire point of that meeting was to exchange information and leads with that meathead cop. And here we are, having told him about your only lead, and having exactly no new leads ourselves,’

‘I’ve got it under control,’ Even V thought her reply sounded feeble, though she knew there was truth to it. She threw a quick glance around the lot, ensuring he wasn’t nearby to see her get in her compact, white MaiMai. Johnny picked up on her self-consciousness immediately, of course.

‘Oh yeah, don’t want him to see you in this fucking plastic toy car, V. He’ll lose all the respect he doesn’t have for you,’ He looked cramped up in the passenger seat, one foot cocked up on the upholstery and his arms folded like a moody teenager. V suppressed a smirk as she slipped her heels off and reached for a duffel bag on what passed for open trunk space behind the passenger side. She hauled the bag into her lap, unzipping and pulling out a change of clothes. Tight black jeans, a form-fitting black tank top, her neckerchief; a backup merc outfit she always kept handy.

Johnny watched, admittedly somewhat enthralled, as she performed cirque du soleil level acrobatics, changing from her Jinguji dress to her streets all without leaving the driver’s seat or alerting anyone outside the car. V folded her newly-acquired dress with the appropriate reverence before depositing it in the duffel along with the new heels and slotting it all behind Johnny’s seat once more. In another mind-bending display of flexibility, she stretched out to reach behind her own seat, retrieving her favorite burgundy cowboy boots. Within the space of about seven or eight minutes, she had completely transformed from date-night-chic to merc-work-ready. It was an impressive skill she had, shifting seamlessly from one persona to another.

A moment of quiet passed between them as V placed her phone on her thigh, opening an application and watching with great interest. She could feel Johnny’s frustration growing, wondering what the hell she was doing. V didn’t feel like indulging him, doling her attention out between her phone screen and the view out of the MaiMai’s rear window. He could only take being ignored for so long.

‘You mind telling me what we’re doing, V?’ His foot tapped impatiently, jostling his leg and bent elbow as he furrowed his brows at the display on her phone. It was a small flashing dot on a monochromatic pattern.

‘It’s a tracker,’ She elaborated, sparing him a momentary glance before returning her gaze to the screen, ‘I slipped one under one of the plates of his hand when I said goodbye,’

‘Well I’ll be,’ Johnny hummed, leaning back more in his seat and appearing more relaxed having received some context. V wasn’t too humble to let a little pride swell in her chest at his approval. She turned slightly in the chair to look at him, folding her own arms and looking every bit like the cat that got the cream.

‘So, it’s only what? Nearly eight o'clock? What do you think a bloodhound cop like that’s gonna do with his night when he’s just been given a shiny brand new lead to follow?’ She jerked her head back toward Fantaji.

‘We’re gonna follow him, then,’

‘Yup, and he’s gonna be a good doggy and lead us right to Red Queen’s Race, whatever the fuck it is,’ V shrugged, ‘Then I’ll get the info I need and hit up Jefferson for the other half of my big fat paycheck,’

‘And when your master plan is complete and you’re flush with cash, what’s next?’

‘Same thing I always do when I’m flush with cash. Gonna buy myself a new outfit, call up some friends, and hit the fucking town. Y’know, drinking, dancing, maybe meet a cute guy, the usual,’ She said with all the enthusiasm of someone reading from a teleprompter.

‘You don’t sound too excited about it, considering how much I know you like all that shit. Maybe this time you should spice it up a bit more, try something new,’ Johnny’s tone bordered on playful and V wanted to quash any of his bright ideas before they could take root.

‘If this is about the Panam shit again, Johnny, I swear to god. I already told you, she’s not into girls and I’m not into her,’

‘Well, actually, I was gonna suggest something else,’ Johnny took V’s raised eyebrows and pursed lips as an invitation to continue, ‘I’ve heard synthcoke is amazing these days,’

‘No, Johnny,’ V’s tone was firm and resolute, ‘I’ve told you before: no drugs. I’m not going anywhere near that shit,’

‘God,’ Johnny huffed, ‘You’re such a fuckin’ drip. Why can’t you just have some fun for once?’

‘Because, Johnny, addicts aren’t allowed to have fun with drugs. That’s kind of the whole point; we’ve already had our allotted drug fun, and now it’s not fucking fun at all,’ V watched as Johnny rolled his eyes and squeezed her arms tighter around herself, bolstering her resolve, ‘I am not throwing away a year of sobriety for you or anyone else, don’t be a dirtbag,’

‘Fine,’ Although he conceded, V could still feel the faint tingle of frustration radiating from him, ‘Addicts in recovery make the worst company,’

‘Not as bad as addicts in denial,’ She gave him a pointed look, smiling slyly when his face turned sour and stubborn in response. V leaned her head back and took some deep breaths, reminding herself of all the reasons she didn’t want drugs. Johnny’s sudden intrusion into her life had thrown her recovery into turmoil, and she regularly found herself returning to the mantras from her early days to get through the tougher moments. She pulled down the visor and looked at her reflection, nodding to herself, an assurance that she could do it.

“You don’t want drugs,” She spoke aloud to herself, ignoring Johnny’s scoffing and eye-rolling in her peripherals, “You don’t need drugs to be happy. You have never been better. You have never been better. You have never been bet-”

‘Hey, V,’ Johnny interrupted.

“What, Johnny?” V hissed harshly, throwing him a sharp glare and bringing her hands up to grip the steering wheel.

‘Your bloodhound’s on the move,’ He gestured to the phone on her thigh, still displaying it’s flashing dot, ‘Just thought you’d wanna know,’

V took a couple more focused breaths, slipping her phone into a holder on her windscreen and starting the engine. She flipped the visor back up, flicking her eyes over to her rearview mirror and trailing him across the parking lot. God, he was so big. She’d been hit by it again when he’d stood to greet her in Fantaji. Even in heels she specifically chose to be closer to his level, he still stood over her. His aura still held that magnetism and confidence that compelled her to be close to him, even when he made her shrink into herself with embarrassment or lash out with rage.

He climbed into a red Thorton more huge than he was and V felt her spine tingling when it roared to life, pulling out of the lot and heading east. She bit her lip and tapped her fingers impatiently on the steering wheel, waiting for a couple of cars to pass before she pulled out too and merged into the same lane as him. As she followed him, she trained her thoughts away from how fantastic he’d looked in that tight, white button-down and toward the job at hand.

It didn’t take long for him to pull up outside a shady-looking store in Vista del Rey. Knowing the area inside out, V pulled over a few blocks further up the street and watched him enter the store. Max-imum Pleasure? Why the hell had he come here? Before she could think more logically, V felt her leg muscles clench at the possibilities of her cop in a sex shop. Maybe their little date had left him frustrated and he was just looking for an aid. She liked the idea of him thinking of her, especially thinking of her in that dress. She wondered if it had had the effect she wanted, though based on the face he’d pulled when he’d first seen her, she had to assume it had.

‘V. The job,’ Johnny’s voice was crystal clear in her head, slicing through her thoughts like a paper shredder, leaving only tatters behind. He was right, though.

‘On it,’ She replied, rising up out of the car and striding down the street. At the sound of some scuffling in the alley beside the sex shop, V tucked herself against the wall and leaned closer to peer around the corner. There he was. Only now, he wore the same thigh-length leather coat from the BD Jefferson had shown her. It made him seem larger in every way. He was pinning another man against the wall, the smaller man’s wrist held tightly against his back by the detective. V was almost jealous. She shook the thought away as he guided the man back through the only door in the alleyway, back into the store. Perfect.

It only took her a couple of minutes to set up a tripwire and situate herself within easy reach. She was concealed in the shadows, invisible until the right moment. She waited. She didn’t have to wait long. 

V recognized the self-assured sound of River’s footsteps heading down the alley. Only a few more steps and he’d be lined up perfectly with the wire. One more step. Click.

River’s feet came out from under him with such speed and force that he could barely shoot his hands out and he ended up flat on his face in the alleyway, grunting from the forced removal of air from his lungs. His lower back cried a little at the sudden position change. Before his palms could flatten on the ground, his optic flashed a warning in his vision.

Enemy Hack Incoming.

He panicked and hurried to get back on his feet, failing completely. The hack was complete within a second and he was paralyzed on the alley floor. Shit, he needed to get his software upgraded, his firewall had to be a decade old, at least. Only able to move his right eye, he tried to get a read on who the hell had just done that to him. A tiny glint of light approached from the shadows. The steel toe of a burgundy, snakeskin cowboy boot.

She strutted up to him with all the quiet confidence he’d become accustomed to, though he couldn’t crane his neck to get a full view of her, having to settle for everything below the knee. He found his voice when she rounded to a stop just in front of him, tapping the toe of one boot impatiently. Impatient for what, he had no idea.

“V?” He sounded gravelly, possibly because his windpipe was being pressed down by his weight. The boot stopped tapping and she took a step closer. One steel toe pushed itself just under his chin and lifted until his face was at an angle where he could look all the way up at her. He distantly felt his muscles complain at the overdrawn stretch. She had her hands on her hips and the same superior, smug expression on her face that she’d had in Fantaji.

“Me, baby,” She replied, her smile disgustingly self-satisfied. And yet, even in this compromising position, even completely bested by her, paralyzed in a dirty alley, being called baby in her voice had him practically giddy with a dangerous kind of excitement. She pulled her boot away, audibly chuckling as his jaw fell to the floor with a grunted ‘oof’ sound. He watched her boots step around to his side and squat beside him until all of her was within his view again. V pushed on his shoulder, huffing and heaving against his deadweight. She lifted him a few inches before engaging her gorilla arms, straining, “Bastardo pesado,”

River’s translator kicked in at the sound of her melodic Spanish complaints: [Heavy bastard]. He huffed a laugh as she finally knocked him onto his back. Sure enough, his overworked muscles had a lot to say about that. He tried to wince, but knew his face wasn’t moving thanks to the hack. Before he understood what was going on, V was straddling him, pulling at the collars of his coat until it fell open under him, and then her hands were roaming all over his torso.

“Uhh…V?” He prompted groggily, trying to keep his senses from taking in too much of her. The waving curtain of her hair fell over his face when she reached her hands down the sleeves of his coat, wafting a perfumed coconut smell over him. He cursed the stupid hack, leaving him unable to pull away and incapable of touching her at all. She felt around his coat’s lining and dipped her hands into all the pockets she came across before she sat back on her haunches, unknowingly pressing her weight toward his crotch. Or at least, River assumed it was an unknowing movement, he could never be sure of anything with her.

“Alright, detective,” She huffed, “Dámelo,” [Give it to me]. If he could move, River would have shrugged his shoulders and crinkled his brow in confusion. As it was, he lay motionless beneath her, trying to mentally picture the old man who lived a few doors down from him and often left his apartment wearing nothing but an open robe - anything to avoid making a fool of himself right now as she sat neatly across him, thick muscular thighs holding him snugly around the hips and blackened chrome fingers splayed on his stomach.

“Hnn?” Was what he mustered. V didn’t look impressed, rolling her eyes and flicking her hair over her shoulder in the same irritated motion.

“The shard please, detective. Before I hurt you,” She shuffled further down his body, coming to a stop around his knees and patting his thighs in her search. A sly smile spread on her ruby lips as she felt the outline of a datashard in one of his front pockets. She didn’t hesitate to stuff her hand in the pocket and start fishing around, much to River’s dismay. Old man. Open robe. Open robe. V in an open robe - no! Old man in an open robe, goddammit. Thankfully, she was nimble with her fingers, and she extracted the datashard quickly and without any embarrassing issues for the detective.

V slipped the datashard into the front of her tank top and River’s mind started churning with thoughts of what it was like under that stretched fabric. She shuffled back up his legs until she’d resumed her earlier position, letting her hands rest gently on his chest.

“That hack should wear off in about two minutes, by the way. You should update your firewall,” She lightly trailed one hand up his chest, tickling the side of his neck, and gripping his jaw to better angle his head toward her, “Bastardo guapo,” [Handsome bastard]. She winked at him in a brief flash before straightening out to stand over him for a moment. River felt his blood coursing through his veins, his heart rate spiking and his skin feeling electric everywhere the air touched it as he took in the view of her legs spread as she towered above him. Probably just a side effect from the hack, some kind of adrenaline rush. Old man, open robe.

V lifted one long leg, sweeping it over him and striding down the alleyway back towards the streets. River couldn’t turn his head to watch her leave, but he heard her voice clear enough to assume she’d deigned to cast one last look over her shoulder at him lying helplessly prone.

“Adiós, detective.” His translator didn’t kick in for commonplace words like that. And so, lying face up to the grimy smog of the city in the grimy alley of Neil’s grimy sex shop where she left him, River waited out the countdown until he could move his stiff joints once more. Long after she was gone, the smell of her still wafted from his shirt and the furred collars of his coat. He could swear he still felt her hair tickling his face when he closed his eyes, still felt the solid, warm weight of her over him.

He took his time to come to a stand, pausing regularly to grumble and stretch. At least she wasn’t here to see this; he felt like a lame old workhorse with how his joints creaked and his muscles groaned with each extension. Once he was stood straight and he’d limbered up with a few swings of each arm, he remembered what Neil had told him about Red Queen’s Race. It was a luxury sex club for Night City’s richest depraved citizens, and River would find it on Bonita Street.

V had taken his info, exact address of the club included, along with basically all his other notes on the case when she klepped the datashard. River reasoned that it didn’t feel like a theft so much as a bizarrely seductive mugging. He also reasoned that it was completely unnecessary, as he was fairly certain he’d have handed it straight over if she’d batted her eyelashes at him and called him ‘detective’ again. As he headed back to his Mack, River wondered if it had been too long since a woman straddled him at all or if he was just a fucking doormat for this particular woman. He pushed the question to the back of his mind for now, putting it in the same box where he kept all of his other restless thoughts about her, and focused on the task at hand.

He heaved himself up into Mack’s driver’s seat and revved up the engine. Pulling away from the curb, he plotted the quickest route to Bonita Street. River didn’t know how V had managed to stalk him and trap him like the ambush predator she was, but he did know that two could play at that game.

V stumbled across the roof of the Red Queen’s Race, exhausted and exhilarated in equal measure. The Animals that had been sent to trash the place were thorough, but - predictably - thoughtless. V had to admit, thoughtless or not, being spotted by two of them at once was a big fuck-up on her part. Her lip was busted, one of her ankles was fizzing, and she knew she had some bruised ribs, but all in all she’d had much worse. She’d made it out with more info for the datashard and a BD wreath she could check out when she was back in the safety of her apartment. Not a bad trade. She was sure the Peralezes would be pleased with her findings, to say the least.

She hobbled to the edge of the roof and paused to catch her breath for a minute before lowering herself from the overhang. She’d made further drops in her time as a mercenary, but she landed clumsily on her fizzing ankle and collapsed under her own weight with an undignified grunt. Within seconds, a huge boot was pressing into her back between her shoulder blades, trapping her against the dusty concrete. Adrenaline took over, and instead of feeling pain, she was fueled by rage. She writhed and lashed out against the hands that clutched at her flailing wrists, pinning them behind her back and using zip-ties to apprehend her. As she tossed and turned against the hold on her, she glanced a flash of wide, brown, furry coat collars, maybe even the suggestion of a dangling earring catching the light.

“What the fuck?” She grumbled as she was heaved to her feet by the bear paws on her pinned arms, “River?!”

He pushed her against the wall, not too roughly, but kept an exceedingly firm grip on her arms as he did so. The jealousy she’d felt earlier for the man in the Max-imum Pleasure alley all but dissipated with the stinging pains shooting across her ribcage at the motion. He leaned forward, placing his mouth just behind her ear.

“Me, baby,” And just like that, all the pain was gone, replaced by a flush of arousal powerful enough to leave her mouth agape, her mind completely blank. The rich bassline of his voice flowed over her, soothing the stinging and fizzing, even if only for a moment. Just as V felt like she’d gathered herself, suddenly his hands were on her and she was helpless again. He held her hips briefly before patting her down like she was part of a drug bust.

“Mind telling me what the fuck you’re doing, detective?” She had to fight to keep the edge in her voice, resisting the urge to just push herself back up against him and start purring with delight. Something in her gut twisted with distaste, likely Johnny’s opinion of her sordid desires for the cop whose hands were currently patting her back pockets.

“Recovering stolen property,” He chuckled, “Tryin’ to anyway. These pockets are all empty. Now, I know where I saw you put the datashard when you stole it from me a coupla hours ago,” He placed his hands at her waist for a moment, pressing his fingertips in just below the curve of her breasts for a fraction of a second before pulling away entirely. His voice was low and quiet again when he spoke, “Is it there again now, merc?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” She turned to look at him over her shoulder, noticing his mischievous smirk drop and his brows furrowing with worry.

“V, are you okay? What happened in there?” He lifted a metal hand to gesture to her fat lip. She darted her tongue out and tasted the familiar iron flavor, she’d split it pretty badly it seemed like. Something about the sudden sweetness of his tone and the deepened lines of his forehead annoyed V, already longing for the flirtatious back-and-forth they’d just lost.

“Just some Animals, no big deal. What’s a split lip and some bruised ribs for Mayoral Candidate, Jefferson Peralez, right?” She tried to smirk, wincing when her lip overextended. River immediately pulled her away from the wall, breaking her zip-ties with his metal digits with the ease of someone tearing wet paper. Some quiet alarm sounded in the depths of V’s mind at the sight, telling her that this was very important information to store for some future point in time. He gently turned her to face him, that stupid worried look still on his face.

“Animals? Bruised ribs? V, I’m so sorry,” River started stumbling over his words, thinking about how he might have been enjoying catching her off guard and throwing his weight around with her a little too much. He’d practically crushed her into the ground, for god’s sake.

“Why? You didn’t bruise my ribs, and you’re far too pretty to be an Animal, so I don’t see how this is your fault,” She knew what he was getting at, but she wasn’t feeling patient enough for the white knight bit with the amount of dull pain lingering in her chest cavity right now. She forged on before he could make any remarks about her calling him pretty, “You’re just doing your job right, detective? Recovering stolen property?”

She added a playful lilt to her voice, inviting him to return to their former, more lighthearted brand of police pat-down. With her newly-freed hands, V reached into the front of her tank top, making sure she kept her movements slow both to tease her cop and to prevent any sudden sharp pangs emitting from her ribs. She produced the datashard and reached out for River’s hand, depositing it squarely in his palm and letting her fingertips brush his for a brief moment before awkwardly stepping away on her dodgy ankle. For now, she decided to keep the security footage she’d found to herself.

River watched the show of her movement, trying not to make it obvious how enthralled he was by her. She seemed to have total control over everything, not just her own actions but his emotions also. Before long, the worry and fear he’d had for her well-being was replaced with a dark curiosity as he watched her readjust the bra area of her tank top, causing tantalizing ripples of motion. He slid the datashard back into his pocket and bent down to collect a BD wreath from beside her boot, tucking it into his coat before he started to step away. He felt like the new evidence was burning holes in his pockets and he was desperate to get back to the station to work on it.

“Um, excuse me?” V voiced her disbelief that he would just turn to leave without addressing her and her tone was enough to command him to stop and face her once more, “I don’t remember taking a BD wreath from you earlier. Don’t see how that particular item falls into ‘recovering stolen property’,”

“Well,” River smirked and shrugged, “Call it seizing police evidence then, if you prefer,”

“I do not prefer,” V huffed, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking a hip, “If I let you take the wreath and the shard I’ll be left with nothing to present to Peralez,”

“Guess you shoulda thought of that before you hacked me in an alley, huh?” River’s smile grew to a full grin and for a moment V thought she might gag on her tongue as it shot up into her mouth. Lines formed around his eyes, both real and cybernetic, and he looked almost like a completely different man when he smiled wide like this. She found herself with no comeback at the ready, lost in the wave of kindness that radiated from those sweet, full lips. It took her a moment to realize he was taking a few backwards steps, and she was only able to speak again when he was on the cusp of turning around again and walking away.

“River, wait,” She took one small step towards him, hobbling slightly and stopping before he could see. He was compelled to do as she said, especially when she said his name in that way. She didn’t have a specific accent, but River noticed that she said the ‘r’ at the end of his name differently to most Night City residents, a unique ‘urr’ sound that hit his ear just right.

“V?”

“I found that BD in Rhyne's private booth in there. Jefferson hired me in the first place because of my BD editing skills. Whaddya say we make a deal: I check out the BD now so I have intel to send Jefferson’s way, and then I let you take the wreath for the NCPD?”

“Sounds fair,” He nodded, handing her the wreath, “Didn’t know BD editing was part of merc life,”

“It’s not usually,” V shrugged, taking the wreath and beginning to adjust it for her head, “I was taught how to do it by one of the best in the city. Always good to have some edge over the other ‘private contractors’ knocking around the Afterlife,”

“I can imagine,” River mused. He took a moment to picture V in the infamous merc nightclub while she placed the wreath over her head and started booting it up. He knew she’d look great dancing under some colored lights. He wondered if she ever went dancing other places, like the types of places where cops weren’t likely to be shot on sight.

“AUGGHHHH!” V keeled over in front of him, on her hands and knees for a moment before she collapsed flat onto the ground, convulsing in pain. Adrenaline kicked in and River reached down to pull the wreath off immediately, tossing it to the side and pulling V up into something resembling the recovery position. He pulled her back up against him, supporting her heavy weight as she loosely flopped over one of his arms. He could feel sweat beading on the back of his neck as he tried to soothe her with a gentle rubbing motion on her arm with his free hand.

“V? V? Hey, V, can you hear me?” With some effort, River kept his voice calm, ignoring the way his stomach seemed to be throwing itself around his ribcage with total abandon, “V, are you alright?”

“Mnn,” Was V’s initial response, but he saw her slowly nod as her breathing deepened. After a couple more seconds, she was shifting in his arms, bringing herself to a more upright sitting position. River wondered if he should put some space between them, but she held onto the arm she’d been flopped against and used him to adjust herself once more, pressing her other hand into her ribs to alleviate some of the pain, “M’alright,”

“Okay, good. V, what was that?” River let some of his worry drip into his tone now, though he wasn’t sure if it was because he knew she was okay or because the fear of what could have happened if he wasn’t here was impossible to push down.

“A murder weapon, technically,” She brought herself into a kneeling position, stretching out her torso to allow more room for her screaming ribs, regretfully pulling out of his reach, “That was a spiked BD wreath, and I’m willing to bet it’s how Rhyne ‘died peacefully in his sleep’. If you hadn’t pulled it off of me…think I woulda died just as peacefully tonight,”

A quiet moment heavily lumbered between them. River’s gut twisted at the image of V writhing in the same pain he’d witnessed only moments earlier, the mere idea of him being unable to help her was unbearable. V thought about what would have happened if River hadn’t ambushed her. She’d have put that thing on in her apartment, completely alone and unable to call for help. She would have died, screaming in isolation. No more Johnny, no more relic, no more chances. Although she’d just voiced the thought, the weight of it only hit her now: she owed River her life. He’d saved her, snatched her chances out of the jaws of the city and handed them right back to her.

V looked up from the concrete to see River was staring at her, his face a pained picture of sorrow. If the situation hadn’t been so dire, she would have made fun of how his plush mouth looked in this downturned position. As it was, all she could do was silently reach out to him as he stood up, taking his offered hands and letting him pull her to a stand. She held onto his hands for longer than she needed to, allowing herself a moment to relish in the contrasting cold and warmth of metal and flesh, gazing at how their size swallowed her own spindly hands. She pulled her hands back slowly, forgiving the way his seemed to tighten their grip for a second before letting her go. When she spoke, V’s voice was crackly and weak, like a radio slipping in and out of its frequency.

“River, I have to show you something. You’re not gonna like it,”

“What do you mean?” His reply was as quiet as hers. It was as if they hoped the previous moment and all its threatening implications would pass them by if they did their best not to alert it.

“I got this security footage from the night Rhyne died. You should see it. Here,” V’s eyes flashed blue as she sent the vid, and she watched River play it on his optic, his organic eye closing so he could focus better. She saw his jaw tighten and his brows grind down on his forehead as he got further through the video. A part of her wanted to reach out and touch him again, offer some of the same comfort he’d tried to give to her when she was coming around. She didn’t know how he’d react to learning his own fucking partner was a part of the Rhyne coverup, but she doubted he’d be pleased. Just as she was about to place a hand on his arm, he threw up his hands in frustration, his optic fading back to black and his eye opening. He balled up his fists and flared his nostrils, and V saw his organic eye brimming with rage.

“Fucking, Han?!” River glanced at her for a second before turning to send his frustration elsewhere, bringing his hands to his head and heaving a labored sigh. It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t deserve to take the brunt of his emotions, especially not right now, “Motherfucker!”

“I’m sorry, River. I had no idea it was an NCPD job,” Her voice, weak and strained as it was, was like a balm to him. He turned back to face her and all the rage was gone, replaced by something closer to sadness.

“Shoulda guessed it myself. Makes a lotta sense. But, it doesn’t matter right now,”

“It doesn’t?” V’s eyebrows shot up. If her cop was half the bloodhound he seemed to be, she found it hard to believe he’d abandon the hunt just as he’d caught the scent.

“V, you almost…” He couldn’t quite bring himself to say it, and she wasn’t going to push him to say it either, not wanting to hear it herself, “I gotta take you to a doc, you got a ripper?”

“I do, but it’s too late now. I’ll see him in the morning,” V couldn’t tell if the pain in her chest was from her swollen ribs or the swell of emotion she felt stirring at his concern. He’d drop this case that had clearly been plaguing him just to help her? She couldn’t think of the last time someone had shown her that kind of selflessness. Then she remembered Jackie and the chest pain doubled, forcing her to blink back tears before they could manifest.

“Let me at least give you a ride home, please?” The worry on his face was making her pain worse, and V felt her self preservation push her away from this vulnerable moment.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine, honestly,” In a moment of foolish pride, she took a confident step to push past him, only for her dodgy ankle to cave under the weight and send her crashing straight into him. He caught her and steadied her, and even had the decency not to pull an amused face or make a joke or outright laugh at her.

“Please, V. For my own peace of mind if nothing else?” From within the broad expanse of his arms, she looked up at him and felt the terrifying suspicion that she’d do just about anything he asked. The way he looked at her like she was the only thing around, the way he held her as delicately as if she were made of glass. It felt like her throat was closing up. She couldn’t summon words, so she just nodded instead, letting him wrap an arm around her waist to steady her as they headed towards his truck, stopping along the way to collect the BD wreath from the ground.

He led her to the passenger side of his truck and moved away from her to open the door. He opened the glove box and pulled out a first aid kit, turning to her briefly.

“Would you be more comfortable sitting or are you okay standing up for now?”

“I wanna stand for a while, give my ribs some space to breathe,”

River nodded and leaned into the truck, He pulled a few levers and adjusted the passenger’s seat into a more relaxed angle, creating space for when she got in. For now, he opened the first aid kit on the seat and started opening compartments. After a minute, he came back beside her, hesitating for a moment to touch her. V leaned towards him, letting him know it was okay, and he wrapped an arm around her again to bring her over to the truck.

“Here,” He gestured to the body of the truck, depositing her against it so she could lean back against the metal while she stood, “I can’t in good conscience let your lip stay like that,”

“It that bad?” She joked, trying to smile at him but faltering when she felt the cry of her broken skin. He cast a sympathetic look her way as he reached for alcohol wipes, tearing the packet open with his teeth. He brought a wipe up to her mouth and V nearly trembled at the sensation of his warm hand carefully holding her chin in place.

“This is gonna sting like a motherfucker,” He warned her, before dabbing her bottom lip with the wipe and sending razor blades of pain through her. Her breath hitched and she hissed, clenching her hands in an effort to keep still.

“Puta madre!”

“I did warn you,” River chuckled, wiping a little more thoroughly as she adjusted to the pain. When he was done, he reached back into the first aid kit and pulled out a small packet, “You’re gonna need a couple of butterfly stitches on there, at least til your doc can take a look at it, that alright?”

“You’re the one who can see it,” She shrugged, “Stitch me up, bonito,”

He chuckled again, shaking his head as he peeled open the packet and prepared the first stitch. V watched the concentration on his face as his hands hovered just over her mouth, his little fingers resting against the edges of her mouth to steady his aim. She felt her breathing get deeper, her heart suddenly beating with more ferocity than it had all night. Slowly, ever so slowly, he placed the stitch over her wound, pressing softly against her lip so it could take. He was too wrapped up in the importance of the task to notice she’d been staring at him in wonder the whole time, and he continued her former joking tone as he peeled open the second stitch.

“You really got a thing for calling me pretty tonight, huh?” That brought her out of her reverie, and V felt the blush starting to rise. Seemed like her literal loose lip was making her too loose-lipped for comfort right about now. Time to deflect.

“Must be the head injury makin’ me stupid,” He snorted at that, bringing the second butterfly stitch up to her face.

“A busted lip is not a head injury, V,” He chided her playfully, not giving her a chance to retort as he cradled her face again, pressing the second stitch in with the same care and attention as the first. V almost wanted to close her eyes to better focus on the feeling of being held like this, like she was so valuable even the slightest knock might crack her. She resisted, and before she knew it the moment was over and he was packing up the first aid kit, replacing it in the glove compartment, “That’ll have to do for now, but you’re still gonna want your doc to look at it in the morning,”

He held a hand out to her expectantly, waiting patiently while she hesitated, before placing her own in his grasp. River eased V up into the passenger’s seat with all the reverence of someone transporting a priceless heirloom. He even went as far as bracing himself on the side bars of the truck to lean across her and buckle her seatbelt. Between the truck’s interior and his physical proximity, V was overwhelmed with the smell of him. It unsettled her with how comforting she found it. A rich leathery smell mixed with his skin, masculine and inviting. She sat back in her seat as he hopped off the side bars and carefully shut her door. River did a half-jog around the front of the truck and V chuckled to herself at how dorky his urgency made him look.

The driver’s side door creaked a complaint and the body of the truck groaned under River’s added weight a moment later. He glanced over at V to see her smiling to herself, her eyes seeming far away. To his relief, the reclined position of the seat seemed to help her pain.

“What’s so funny, merc?” He mused, starting the engine and pulling away from Bonita Street, hopefully for good. She looked meaningfully around the truck’s interior before giving him an answer.

“Was just thinking I like your truck,” Her smile grew an iota and River got the gut feeling that that wasn’t what she was smirking about, but he thought better than to press her on it.

“Oh yeah? This is Mack,” He patted the dash affectionately as he spoke.

“Mack?”

“Yeah, Mack the Mackinaw,”

“You named your truck?” She lolled her head in her chair to face him a little better, watching him break into the same smile that had nearly floored her earlier as he stole glances at her now and then.

“Well yeah, what kind of monster doesn’t name their ride?”

“The kind that’s a normal person?” She chuckled incredulously, “What kind of gearhead does name their ride?”

“Uh, the kind of gearhead that’s kindly driving you home in the middle of the night,” His smile cracked into a full grin at her faux offended expression, “You’re telling me your ride is nameless?”

“Nameless as the day it was made,” She nodded, thinking that this man was more ridiculous than she could have ever guessed in a surprisingly enjoyable way.

“What do you drive? I can help you pick a name,”

“Oh no, I’m not telling you a single thing about my car,” If she hadn’t wanted him to see her getting into her MaiMai earlier, she definitely didn’t need his ridicule over her choice of wheels now that she knew he was a gearhead, “Besides, I don’t think I want help from someone who names a Mackinaw ‘Mack’. Very creative, by the way,”

“I’ll leave creativity to the artists of the world,” He shrugged, still smiling despite her stubbornness, “You don’t have to tell me about your car, but do you mind telling me where I should be headed right about now?”

“Oh right,” She hadn’t even told him where she lived. A part of V wondered if she’d have been content to just sit here with him and drive aimlessly around the city all night. She tried not to linger on that part, already knowing the answer, “Head to Little China in Watson. I live in the H10 megabuilding there,”

“Oh yeah? Those megabuildings as bad as people say?” He gave her a mischievous expression that made her eyes roll.

“I actually quite like it,” She replied dryly, “Got my own front door and a gun range just down the stairs, what more could I ask for?”

River chuckled at her response, but his mind started straying to the tigress puzzle yet again. The woman he’d met two weeks ago didn’t seem like the megabuilding type, and the woman he’d briefly had dinner with earlier tonight definitely wouldn’t be caught dead in the dirty foyer of a megabuilding, right? Equally, both of those versions of V didn’t strike him as people he’d expect to wrangle him in an alleyway like a professional ranch hand. They also didn’t line up neatly with the merc he’d heard his colleagues gushing over using throwing knives to drop Tyger Claws like flies. So, who the hell was she?

“You lived there long?” Maybe this drive was the perfect opportunity to pry out some genuine information on his latest, greatest mystery.

“About six months,”

“Where were you before that?”

“Lived with a friend for a while,” Her answers were frustratingly vague, he had to keep digging.

“Where you from originally?” River thought maybe he was about to unveil her nomadic roots. Having ruled out corpo and ganger, it seemed like a likely alternative from what he knew so far.

“Here,” He glanced at her with obvious surprise, making her smirk, “Night City, I mean,”

“You’re a Night City native?” Would he ever make any progress on this damn puzzle?

“Heywood born and raised, you?” Heywood was not known for being a nice area. Besides the presence of Valentinos and 6th Street gangers, it was mostly rundown neighborhoods and homeless shantytowns. How could the tigress beside him have come from there?

“Grew up on the outskirts, but I’ve lived in the city since I was about ten. My apartment’s over the bridge in Japantown,”

“Tyger turf,” She said conclusively. That explained why he was in that bar two weeks ago, nice local job for him probably. Likely explained why he thought she was working for the Claws too. He hummed in agreement, as if he could read her thoughts, “You don’t have to go past your place just to drop me off, y’know. I can just get a cab,”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” He stated firmly, cutting off any negotiation before it could begin. Instead, he decided on a slightly more personal line of questioning in hopes of uncovering more of her, “So, how’s a Heywood girl like you become a merc eating sushi at Fantaji like she owns the place?”

“Am I being interrogated, detective?” She kept smiling, but her tone bordered on something more serious. He’d been rumbled, and it wasn’t going to stay friendly if he continued, that much was clear. River weighed his decisions for a moment. If he kept pressing, he wouldn’t put it past her to throw herself out of a moving truck. He decided to play ball and lighten up for now, she was injured enough as is.

“Force of habit, I think. You wanna ask me anything as payback, go ahead. It’s only fair,” He smiled amicably at her, vaguely aware that they were closing in on crossing the bridge into Little China and their short time together would already be ending soon.

“Estoy pensando,” [I’m thinking] She murmured, looking him over in great detail. There were so many things she wanted to ask him. How did he lose his eye? How did he lose his hand? When did he become a detective? Why was he working for the NCPD when he was so clearly too good for them? Was it possible he was the last truly good man in all of Night City? She settled for arguably the most pressing question for the night, “What are you gonna do about Han?”

The question threw him for a minute. He was sure she’d ask something about his eye or his hand, like most people did at the first opportunity. Instead, her question brought up all the frustration and turmoil he’d managed to set aside for now. He had an answer for her though, he knew as soon as he saw the footage what he had to do next.

“Gonna take the evidence to Internal Affairs, get them to reopen the investigation into Rhyne’s death. Between the BD wreath and the security footage, as well as what’s on the datashard, they can’t exactly ignore me,” He noticed V’s shoulders sagged slightly beside him. She knew that would be his answer, despite hoping against hope that he’d say just about anything else. 

“Uh-huh,” She replied, sounding despondent. 

“You think I shouldn’t?”

“Didn’t say that,”

“You don’t think it’s the right thing to do?” He pulled up to park just outside the megabuilding, killing the engine and turning to face her. She dropped her gaze, not enjoying the scrutiny of his concern and…was that disappointment on his face?

“Didn’t say that either. It’s just…” V paused, unsure of how to tell the truth without telling too much of the truth, eager to avoid exposing how he made her feel, “You’re a good person, River. A good cop. Possibly the only good cop in Night City. Night City doesn’t want good cops, and it eats up good people. Just don’t wanna see you get hurt,”

“Oh,” He was taken aback by her sincerity, unsure of how to process everything she’d said, but certain of how it made his chest bloom with warmth, “Thanks, V. It means a lot to hear that,” Especially from you, he kept strictly to himself. He reached for his seatbelt, unbuckling and putting his hand on the door handle before the feeling of V’s outstretched hand on his coat sleeve stopped him.

“Listen, River, thanks for bringing me home, I’m grateful, really I am. But, I don’t let men come up to my apartment,” She spoke low and slow, wincing like she was expecting him to lash out at her for it. She pushed on before he could say anything, holding her hands out to him like she was surrendering, “I-It’s not personal! I don’t think you’re some kind of creep. I meant what I said, you’re a good person, that much is obvious. It’s just a rule I have. That space is just for me,”

“Hey, hey,” He spoke gently, coaxing her to make eye contact again before continuing, “That’s alright, V. I’m not gonna push your boundaries, I trust you can make it from here on your own. If anything, I think it’s smart to have that kind of policy,”

“Thanks for not making fun of me,” She sounded sheepish and downtrodden and it was like the fierce tigress he’d grown accustomed to had all but disappeared. River felt his face falling, mirroring her own, feeling that familiar twisting inside his guts.

“I would never make fun of you for making smart decisions, V,” He tried to smile, wanting to ease her anxiety, knowing that it didn’t look genuine, “I might make fun of you for your car, whatever it may be,”

“Shut up,” She let a small chuckle out, both of them releasing breaths they didn’t know they were holding now that the awkward moment had passed, “You won’t make fun because you’ll never see it,”

“So that’s how it’s gonna be,”

“Sí, that’s how it’s gonna be, detective,” She smiled easily, unbuckling her seatbelt and easing herself into an upright position with a few steady breaths, “Thanks again, by the way,”

“It’s no big deal, just a ride home,”

“No I mean, thanks for saving my life,” She smiled at him, and River couldn’t believe it when she actually looked shy. It was undeniably adorable and he got the distinct feeling she’d murder him there and then if he voiced that opinion.

“Oh, right, that,” They chuckled together at his tone, “Well, you’re obviously welcome. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. I mean it, V. You ever need help from me, please don’t hesitate,”

“Thank you,” She held eye contact with him for a long moment and River saw the gunmetal depths of her eyes sparkling like molten metal. Absolutely captivating, “Goodnight, River,”

“Goodnight. I hope you sleep well,”

“You too,” A soft blush dusted her cheeks and River wanted to touch it. He reached out and took her hand in his instead, watching her eyes drop to look at his chrome encasing her skin.

“I really hope I see you again, V.” He murmured thoughtfully, squeezing her hand lightly before letting it go. She shifted in her seat, angling herself toward the truck door and opening it. Before she climbed out, she looked back at him over her shoulder.

“I’m sure you will, detective.” And she grinned at him. The grin she usually saved for sealing the deal when she’d found fresh meat and wanted to be invited back to their place. And it hit him like buckshot. And he knew he was utterly fucked.

River watched in silence as she slowly lowered herself from the truck, pushing the door shut behind her and hobbling at a decent pace up the stairs into the megabuilding. He waited until he saw her enter the elevator before he turned back to his steering wheel. A few deep breaths later, he was re-centering himself on the task at hand: Rhyne’s murder. He pulled away from the parking bay and headed back over the bridge towards Japantown, planning how he could most effectively compile his case to present to IA tomorrow. He debated visiting Han, even this late, just to release some of his pent up anger. He decided against it, not trusting himself to stay smart right now.

When River reached his building, he took the stairs, he locked his revolver away, and he took a shower. By the time he’d laid in his bed, his whole body aching, he closed his eyes and thought of V. He thought of the dress she’d worn to Fantaji. He thought of the way she’d toyed with him. He thought of the way she’d rendered him defenseless in the alley outside Neil’s shop. He thought of the feeling of her straddling him, touching him all over in her search for the datashard. He thought of the way she’d crumpled to the floor when she slipped the spiked BD on. He thought of how helpless she looked after. 

He clutched his feather pendant with a new kind of desperation.

He thought of how her lips had felt under his fingers when he applied the stitches. He thought of how she smelled when he leaned over her to buckle her in. He thought of how little he knew about her, his tigress. He thought about the brief moment where any hint of the tigress vanished. He thought about how she touched his arm. He thought about how she said his name. He thought about how she thanked him for saving her life. He thought about how she grinned at him.

He wondered if she had thought about him at all. He wondered if he was a good person. He wondered if he was a good cop. He wondered if Night City was going to eat him up. He wondered if he’d ever see her again. He wondered if Night City could be so kind as to give him so much time with her tonight and then so cruel as to take her away forever.

But he wasn’t naive. He knew Night City was not a kind place. Something in his gut twisted again just before he drifted off, and he got the distinct feeling V would be taken away from him, one way or another. 

Chapter Text

When she reached her apartment, V barely stopped to maneuver herself out of her boots and jeans before collapsing onto the bed in an exhausted heap. Every part of her ached, and when she closed her eyes her eyelids glowed with iridescent fizzing, shifting and vibrating through her skull like molasses. Thoughts came to her and passed by without a moment to linger on their meaning. River’s hands had felt very nice on her arms, on her lips, on her own hand before she’d left his truck. Weldon Holt organized the assassination of Mayor Rhyne. She hadn’t seen or heard from Johnny since wearing the BD wreath.

Her breaths were agonizing, but she didn’t trust herself to take any painkillers. It would be too easy to take too many, chasing a buzz rather than taking the edge off. Instead, she lay with the less savaged side of her face pressed into a plump silky pillow, waiting for the electric disco in her mind to give way to the cavernous absence that followed. 

Unconsciousness gripped her legs first, creating a unique detachment as she lost feeling in her toes, then her calves, then her thighs. The dull aching of her ribs settled as her heart rate slowed and the last thought that lingered in her mind before she was dragged away was that she hoped River slept well tonight.

It was her agent, buzzing wildly on the bed beside her, that woke V the next day. She grumbled into the pillow as the buzzing reverberated around her skull. Everything was throbbing and she felt like her arms weighed five hundred pounds when she reached out and answered the call, not bothering to lift her head and mostly speaking into the pillow.

“H’lo?” Her throat croaked pathetically.

“V?” Misty’s voice on the other end of the line brought her slightly out of her stupor and she rolled over onto her back as slowly as she could.

“Hey, Mist,”

“Vik wanted me to call and tell you you’re late,”

“Late for what?”

“He said you called him at like, two in the morning asking him to open up shop,” She giggled, “Apparently you were real rude about it when he told you to wait until the morning. You were supposed to be here a half hour ago,”

“I was?” 

“Mhm. If I were you, I’d bring some donuts or something to tide him over, you know what he’s like when he’s grumpy,” V could hear the smile in Misty’s voice and it was already like some of the pain was dissipating.

“Thanks for the heads up, Mist. Tell him I’ll be there in fifteen. And tell him to cool his jets, we don’t want him to have a heart attack, poor old guy,”

“I’ll tell him you’ll be here soon and that you’re very worried about his health,” She said cheerily, “I’ll probably skip over the ‘old guy’ part,”

“I don’t know who does a better job at keeping me alive, you or him. Thanks, I’ll see you soon.”

“Seeya!” Misty ended the call with a sing-song voice that grated V’s thumping eardrums.

V started to slide from her bed to the floor with the speed of someone whose ribs were one sneeze away from bursting through her torso. When she was on all fours, she looked at her agent to assess the damage she’d done with her nocturnal phone call.

She didn’t remember sending any messages, or talking on the phone, and since when did she call Vik ‘doc’?

‘You’re welcome,’ Johnny’s voice sounded for the first time in too long, and V felt a unique relief at raising her head and seeing him lounging on the couch, ‘I was losing you a little last night so I tried to get him to see you ASAFP,’

‘Thought I mighta lost you after that spiked BD,’ Even V’s internal voice was croaking in discomfort as she crawled toward her bathroom. Johnny glitched into view again when she was kneeling in the shower cubicle, peeling off her clothes and reaching up to turn on the water.

‘Nah, can’t get rid of me that easily. Threw me for a fuckin’ loop though, couldn’t get through to you for a while there,’ Johnny watched V sit with her back against the shower wall, her head fell back to rest against the tile and her eyes screwed shut, ‘Seems like I bounced back a lot better than you though, huh?’

‘You can say that again. Feel like I’ve been turned inside out. I’ve had actual comedowns that were easier than this,’ V rubbed her face several times, pushing water into her burning eyes and groaning intermittently. Despite her discomfort and complaints, a small portion of V’s mind was grateful that at least Johnny hadn’t mentioned anything to do with River. Maybe the spiked BD pushed him deep enough into the recesses of her mind that he didn’t know about the moments they shared together last night.

‘Oh I know about ‘em,’ Johnny’s voice made V flinch, too clear and cocky for this time in the morning, ‘I’m just being polite because I’m so well mannered and you were clearly suffering from an episode of near-death patheticness,’

‘Oh,’

‘Yeah, oh,’ Johnny snorted, ‘I could feel you gettin’ all gushy and mushy when he patched you up. Since when do you like bein’ treated like a delicate little flower?’

‘God,’ V curled up into herself for a few moments, pretending she could will Johnny and his pestering out of existence if she closed her eyes tight enough. When that didn’t work, she unfurled and gradually brought herself to her feet before she exceeded her hot water ration for the day.

As she dressed in comfortable sweatpants and a t-shirt loose enough to leave her ribs accessible for treatment, V continued to ignore Johnny’s question. She didn’t have an answer for him, or for herself. She had no idea she’d enjoy being treated with such care as much as she did. The short time they’d spent together last night had knocked her sideways about what the hell she was doing with her time. She’d almost died, and if she had, would it have mattered at all? Would the city miss her?

‘That’s what I’m tryna say, V,’ Johnny appeared beside her as she pulled some trainers on by her door, ‘You had a near-death experience, that’s all. A hit like that would make anyone a little stupid for a bit. Just makin’ sure you’re coming to your senses now. A cop’s not what you want, right?’

‘Ugh,’ The reminder of River’s occupation, and by extension his choice to go to IA, was enough to make V’s stomach turn a little, ‘Most certainly not.’

‘Good. Now let’s grab some donuts and get those fuckin’ ribs fixed up. Swear I can feel ‘em poking at my insides all wrong.’ Johnny grumbled behind her as she headed out.

Twenty-five minutes after telling Misty she’d be there in fifteen minutes, V pushed open the door to the esoterica, balancing an oversized box on her hip. A generous selection of six sugared and six iced donuts should have been enough to get Vik to unblock her contact. V huffed her hair out of her face and reorganized herself as the door shut behind her, making her way over to the counter with a weary smile. Misty’s eyes widened when she looked up from her cards.

“V! What happened to your lip?” Misty’s concern was palpable and V vaguely realized she hadn’t actually looked at her lip yet. It must have been pretty bad to warrant this response, “Vik’s waiting for you, c’mon lemme help you,”

V handed over the donuts without complaint. Between the ache of her ribs and the tight stinging sensation pulsing through her bad ankle, she was grateful for the assistance. She shuffled awkwardly behind Misty as they left through the back door.

“How did you even get home last night, walking like that?” Misty held the door open for V’s pathetic shuffling, “Don’t tell me you drove in this state, V,”

“I didn’t, I didn’t,” V waved one hand in a half-hearted attempt to belay some of Misty’s worry, “Got a ride from a cop, actually,”

“You got arrested?” Misty took one of V’s arms in hers to provide some much-needed balance for the descent to Vik’s basement clinic.

“Nah, wasn’t like that. There was a cop involved in the job, dropped me off when it was all over,”

“Well, I hope it was worth it. You’re gonna owe Vik big time, by the looks of things,” The pair arrived at Vik’s door and V jutted her chin at the ripper in question, raising her voice to be heard over the perpetual din of boxing matches on his TV.

“Already owe ya big time, right Vikky?”

“Christ, kid, look at you,” Vik lowered his head, peering over his tinted glasses at her in near disbelief. V knew the look well; she must really look like shit. Misty unhooked herself from V’s arm and placed the donuts on the counter. Vik opened the box, choosing a plain sugared donut, while Misty opted for one covered in pink icing and sprinkles. V hobbled over to a wall mirror to assess the damage for herself.

“Vaya!” V gasped at her reflection, “I have three fucking lips!” She tentatively brought a hand up to the butterfly stitches that held the two pieces of her bottom lip together. The split was so deep and long it nearly extended down to her chin. How could she not feel it was this bad before? The combination of bruised ribs, whatever was happening in her ankle, and a spiked BD must have been enough to overwhelm the pain of a severed lip.

“You’re surprised?” Vik said around a mouthful of donut, “Didn’t realize how bad it was when you patched it?”

“Didn’t patch it,” V replied, still not looking away from the weirdly compelling gore of seeing her gums through her lips.

“Shoulda guessed,” Vik grunted with a laugh, “Looks far too good to be your work,” 

“Wow, okay, rude,” V gawked at Vik incredulously, only causing him to laugh with more gusto. She turned back to the mirror for a closer examination.

“Did the cop do it?” Misty chimed in, tilting her head to one side and holding her donut in both hands, nibbling at it like a woodland creature.

“Cop?” Vik turned to Misty, his eyebrows quirked in confusion.

“V worked with a cop last night,” Something in Misty’s tone was conspiratorial and V knew she was right to feel suspicious and unsettled about it.

“Yeah,” She interjected, forcing herself to look away from the mirror, “The cop patched me up,”

“Sounds…romantic,” Misty mused to her donut while V narrowed her eyes, her earlier suspicions already confirmed: Misty was about to do some stupid mystic shit.

“Oh sure,” She huffed, already feeling the discomfort in her stomach at recalling the way River held her face still, the way he pressed his fingers to her lips to secure the stitches, “Real romantic. Let’s see, first I got the shit beaten outta me by Animals, then I stole some important shit, then the cop got involved, I almost died, and he was kind enough to gimme a ride home. Best first date ever,”

“You almost died?” Misty’s sweet expression and wide doe eyes were enough to convince V to table her sarcasm for the time being. She nodded, turning to Vik’s equally disconcerted face.

“I briefly wore a spiked BD last night that I’m certain killed Mayor Rhyne a coupla weeks ago. Need a full scan to make sure it’s not fucked with me in some fun, new way,”

“You mean in some way that isn’t connected to the parasitic Silverhand code that’s eating away at your neural net and making calls to me in the middle of the night?” Vik replied, washing his hands and beginning to tune up his ripper doc glove.

“Exactly that. How’d you know it was him calling?”

“He called me ‘doc’ and then cussed me out when I told him to wait til the morning,” He shrugged, “You always go the sickly sweet route to try and get what you want,”

“Only with you, Vikky,” V replied, swaying her torso from side to side and twirling a piece of her hair around in her fingers. Vik rolled his eyes and gestured towards his operating chair, turning his back on her to prepare his trolley and set up his monitors. V chuckled to herself, slowly hauling herself across the room and onto the chair. 

She loved winding Vik up; the first time Jackie had brought her in to meet him, she was immediately smitten. He held doors open, pulled chairs out, shook her hand with both of his - typical gentleman shit that you just didn’t see in Night City. His toned arms and tight shirts didn’t hurt, either. But, he shut her down more or less immediately, making it abundantly, insultingly clear that when he looked at her, he saw a kid, nothing more. She was over the crush by now, but it was still so fun to flirt with him and watch him squirm with discomfort.

Misty held the open donut box out to V, shaking it a few times to get her attention. Just as V picked up a plain, sugared donut, Vik turned and slapped it out of her hands and back into the box.

“You don’t get a donut,” He huffed.

“What the fuck?! Why?” V whined, leaning back in the chair and crossing her arms before immediately uncrossing them and wincing, returning to her upright position.

“Why? Because you got three fucking lips, kid, that’s why. Gotta patch you up proper first, don’t need sugar and crumbs and shit in the way,”

“I see what you’re saying: I’m sweet enough,” V preened, smiling to herself when Vik sighed frustratedly, he was clearly not in the mood for this shit and she was relishing in it. He approached her, flipping the operating light on and angling it to get a closer look at her lip situation.

“Your cop did a good job with the cleanup on this,” He mused quietly, turning her head gently from side to side to get a clearer picture of the stitching it’d need.

“What’s his name?” Misty’s question came from the counter where she’d perched herself, fiddling with the oversized sleeve of her sweater.

“Why’d you wanna know?” V tried to ask, though it came out as a confusing mumble with Vik’s fingers prodding and probing at her wound until she flinched away, inhaling sharply from the pain. Thankfully, her bond with Misty was such that she’d understood even with the mumbling.

“Something about you is different today,” She shrugged, “Wondering if maybe it’s him?”

“Failing to see what’s different ‘cept the new lip and the fucked up walk,” V grumbled, watching Vik closely as he prepared some painkillers and doing her best not to look at Misty.

“Your aura’s changed. Like it’s shifted, made room for something new,” V continued staring at Vik’s hands, unblinking, as she pretended not to think about what Misty was saying. Naturally, her brain betrayed her, and she was picturing River’s broad shoulders and full lips in seconds, “And you’re blushing,”

That was enough to get Vik’s attention, and V could feel her jaw ache from tensing as she looked between the two of them. Their expressions were stupid with giddy curiosity and she almost bit back the urge to throw knives at them until she remembered she was unarmed. They didn’t even have cyberware she could hack, worthless civilian friends.

“Should you be here?” V glared at Misty, pointing a finger accusingly, “Doesn’t this breach doctor-patient confidentiality, or some shit?”

“I’ll leave,” Misty shrugged, smiling a small smile that communicated the damage has already been done, “See you at Mama’s later?”

“Yeah, sure,” V huffed, watching Misty’s blonde mop bounce off up the stairs and seething at her back.

“That was this is, V?” Vik’s eager mocking tone brought her back into the room, “You gotta boyfriend and not told us? A cop too?”

“You think I’d be dating a fucking cop, Vik? Be serious,” V shrugged his comment off, handing over her personal link for him to jack in to his monitor system, “Now would it kill you to be nice to me? Working with three lips and two bruised ribs over here, y’know?”

“Two bruised,” Vik confirmed, nodding to his scanner readouts, “Three broken outright. Did you know that?”

“I did not. Gotta admit, it’s kinda a relief, I thought I was just getting soft. Hurts like a motherfucker,”

“I’ll bet. You taken any painkillers whatsoever since last night?” Vik looked over his glasses at her the way he always did when he was asking her a question he already knew the answer to, his arms crossed and his face sympathetic. V eyeballed the ground before replying.

“Nah, was just gonna wait for you to give me some,”

“Y’know, you’re gonna have to start trusting yourself eventually, V. We’ve been over this, you can take painkillers without relapsing completely,” He placed a comforting hand on her forearm, encouraging her to look up at him.

“I know. Just scared, I guess,” V mumbled the words out, not wanting to admit her fears, not wanting to think about how comforting Vik was right now.

“Hey, hey, I get that. That’s fair,” He rubbed his hand up and down her arm a few times and she could feel her pulse calming, “I’m always here to help if you need it, got it?”

V nodded. She felt better with Vik’s comfort, but their closeness and familiarity compelled her to do something stupid to lighten the mood. Before she could think too much about it, she put her hand over his, intertwining their fingers, and batted her eyelashes at him cartoonishly.

“Thanks, Vikky, what would I do without you?” Her sing-song voice was off-putting even to her. Vik recoiled, shrugging her hand off with an offensive urgency and grimacing.

“Ew,” He shook his hand out, as if ridding himself of some disease, “Wish you’d stop doing that shit, kid,”

“I’ll stop when you stop making it so entertaining,” V snickered, subduing her laugh to avoid further pain, “Now please fix me, I hurt everywhere.”

“Here,” Vik handed her an inhaler and watched her take three long puffs from the painkiller, “Breathe it in, ‘cause this ain’t gonna be pretty.”

That evening, after finishing up at Vik’s clinic and dropping by the Peralez’s, V was parking up outside Mama Welles’ modest Heywood home. Her MaiMai made a gentle humming noise as it powered down, and Johnny appeared on her passenger seat before she could get out.

‘This thing even sounds like a toy,’

‘It’s electric, sue me,’ V shrugged, ‘Also, hey. You’ve been quiet today,’

‘Hurting, mostly,’ He replied, looking away from her and out the window on his side, clearly eager to avoid delving much deeper into this topic.

‘Yeah, last night was a real shitshow, huh,’

‘Don’t know how you went so long without taking meds,’ He turned to face her again briefly, leaning in to look at her lip, ‘That doc’s fuckin’ good, though. Can barely see the scar already,’

V pulled the visor down and examined Vik’s work again in the mirror. She’d already praised it at the clinic, but she’d been checking it out all day to watch the swelling go down. Her bottom lip was all one piece again, albeit with a very thin scar extending just slightly towards her chin on one side. You’d never notice it unless you knew to look for it; a miracle of modern medicine as far as V was concerned. On that note, she pulled the front of her top down slightly, peering in the mirror until she could make out the top of the scar that ended at her sternum. She turned to Johnny, knocking a knuckle against her chest.

‘Titanium ribcage doesn’t hurt none, neither,’ She smiled easily.

‘You say that,’ He winced at the faint memory of vaguely being aware of the doctor probing around at V’s chest cavity, ‘I say it hurt plenty. Why’d you have to get titanium ribs?’

‘Didn’t have to,’ She shrugged, ‘But Vik said it’d take longer for the ‘ganic ones to heal. Figure in my line of work, couldn’t hurt to be better prepared next time I’m brawling with Animals, plus the other half of that Peralez paycheck’s burning a hole in my pocket. After a week or two, they won’t feel so weird and heavy, you’ll see,’

‘Well, I guess that makes some kinda weird sense,’ A small part of Johnny was relieved that at least V was less likely to get flattened on the job with solid metal shielding her vital organs.

‘Now, is there something you actually wanted to say? Or can I go inside now? I wanna play cards and smoke, don’t you?’ V rubbed her hands together conspiratorially, beaming like a kid at a theme park.

‘I was just thinkin’, how about Bella Blanca?’

‘Huh?’ She quirked an eyebrow at him.

‘For the MaiMai,’ He opened his arms, gesturing to the vehicle around them, ‘How ‘bout Bella Blanca for a name?’

V was quiet for a moment as Johnny’s words took their time to make sense to her. Her smile went from eager to sly and she could feel Johnny’s regret building in the depths of her stomach.

‘You wanna name the MaiMai?’ She barely restrained a sickly giggle, ‘Is this because of what River said?’

‘No, I jus-’

‘You liiiiiike him,’ V swayed from side to side, singing her words with mocking glee. Johnny threw up his hands, huffing dramatically.

‘Go already!’ He huffed, ‘Play your cards and smoke your fuckin’ cigarillos, you stupid bitch,’

He glitched out before she could respond, but V took her time to laugh openly in the car, knowing that he was surely hearing it somewhere within her consciousness. She pulled a slim wooden box from her glove compartment before climbing out of the car, turning to consider the vehicle for a moment on the pavement. It was cute and pretty in its own way, or at least she thought so, and it was white. Maybe Bella Blanca was a good name. She’d think about it.

Turning on her heel, V bounded up the few stairs to Mama Welles’ front door and let herself in, something she’d become accustomed to after hearing one too many of Mama’s lectures about family and house rules.

“I’m home,” She called out over the traditional Latin music emanating from the kitchen, “Mama? Misty?”

“V!” Misty hopped out from around the corner, holding her arms out for a hug. The morning forgotten, V stepped forward to hug her enthusiastically. They were basically sisters; she wasn’t ever able to hold a grudge against the mystic. After a moment, Misty pulled away, resting her hands on V’s forearms and looking intensely at her face, “Wow, Vik did such a good job. Your lip looks so much better!”

“Thanks, Mist, I thought so,” V smiled, relishing in how it didn’t hurt or strain her mouth in the slightest, “How’s Mama tonight, still giving you hell?”

“She’s…concerned about me. With love, I’m sure. Just, it’s a lot, y’know,” Misty shuffled awkwardly, never enjoying any type of conflict. V gave her arms a squeeze of reassurance.

“Don’t worry, that’s why I’m here. C’mon, let’s eat,” She hooked an arm around Misty’s elbow and led them both back into the kitchen, where Mama Welles was standing at the burner, attending to something amazing-smelling, “Mama! Sopapillas? Huele bien!”

“V!” Mama Welles turned from the stovetop, her arms up high in a demand for a hug. V strolled across the room, squeezing her with the same affection she had for Misty. If Misty was her sister, this woman really was her Mama as far as V was concerned. After a few seconds of nearly having the life hugged out of her, V took a step back, testing her lungs against her new ribs. She pushed the small wooden box she’d taken from her car into Mama Welles’ hands, watching as the older woman opened it to reveal two neat rows of cigarillos, “Ay, V, mi favorita!”

“Sí, Mama, of course. Can’t play cards without ‘em, right?” They shared a smile as V took two cigarillos from the box, passing one to Misty and taking a seat at the round table in the middle of the room. Misty sat with her, already shuffling the cards, and Mama dished up the fresh sopapillas, piling them up and dropping the serving dish in the center of the table.

“Who wants a drink?” She called over her shoulder, reaching to a shelf above the sink and bringing down a bottle of whiskey.

“Sí, por favor,” V replied, fetching a matchbook from a bar she visited on her last little hunting trip and lighting up her cigarillo. She leaned across the table to light Misty’s as well.

“Yes, please, Mama,” Misty added, taking the lit cigarillo with a kind smile. Mama Welles brought three tumblers to the table, pouring a decent amount of whiskey into each of them and passing them out. The bottle stayed on the table by the sopapillas, ready for the inevitable refills they’d go through tonight. After taking a seat and lighting her own smoke, the matron looked between the two younger women with a wistful smile.

“Girls, what shall we drink to tonight?”

“To V’s health,” Misty raised her glass, quickly joined by V and Mama Welles, “And Viktor’s amazing ability to keep her on her feet,”

“Fuck yeah,” V cheered, cigarillo hanging from one corner of her mouth.

“Idioma,” Mama Welles chastised her, “Don’t swear under my roof, V,”

“That is the dumbest rule,” V grumbled under her breath, quickly being talked over by Mama.

“And what has Doctor Vektor had to do to you now, mija?”

“V came in this morning with busted ribs, a sprained ankle, and her lip was split wide open,” Misty answered, tapping her own lip as if to illustrate the extent of the damage V had taken. Something about her tone had V’s suspicious hackles raising again, wondering where she was going with this, “And now look at her, you’d never be able to guess,”

“Doctor Vektor is a good man,” Mama Welles nodded knowingly, “Why were you so battered, V? This is not like you,”

“Okay, well first of all, Doctor Vektor is a good man because I pay him to be, okay?” V raised her hands defensively, “And second of all, I ran into some nasty Animals on a job last night, it got a little out of hand, but it’s fine, Mama,”

“Animals weren’t the only thing she ran into,” Misty said quietly, almost into her glass. Oh, here it comes, V thought.

“What does that mean?” Mama Welles looked back and forth between the two women, her tone betraying her suspicion.

“V met a man last night,” Misty looked at Mama Welles, pointedly ignoring the death glare she was receiving across the table.

“V, is this true?” Mama slapped her arm with the back of her hand accusingly, “Why did you not tell me you met a man?”

“Because I didn’t. Misty’s full of shit,”

“Idioma,”

“Again with this sh-” V was interrupted once again.

“Who did you meet?” Mama’s tone was demanding, huffing on her cigarillo and blowing smoke out of her nostrils like some menacing dragon.

“She met a cop,” Misty interjected, sipping her whiskey like the evil demon she was in V’s mind, “A mystery cop she won’t tell us anything about,”

“What is there to tell?” V held her arms out in a harried shrug, nearly casting whiskey across the room in her frustration, “He was a part of a job, he patched up my lip, and he drove me home. What’s the big deal?”

“Ay, V,” Mama’s tone softened a little at V’s frustration, “He patched you up? That is a little romantic, no?”

“What?!” V practically screeched, “What is wrong with the two of you that you think that sounds romantic? What kinda dates was Jackie taking you on, Mist?”

“Well actually, I did fall off his bike once and scuffed up my knee. Jackie cleaned it and put a band-aid on it. He even kissed it better,” Her tone was the perfect blend of sweet and sorrowful to knock V off her guard. Mama Welles nodded, reaching her hand out to hold Misty’s arm affectionately.

“Sí, because that’s the kind of boy Jackie was,” She agreed, “He had a romantic soul,”

“Okay,” V sighed heavily, “In that specific context, I can see how first aid can be romantic. However, in my case, it was just a convenient holdover until I could come see Vik this morning,”

“But he did a really good job on it,” Misty highlighted, taking a generous puff from her cigarillo.

“Yeah? So? I mean, he’s a cop, aren’t they supposed to be trained in that shit?” V caught a glare from Mama and added, “Stuff, sorry,” Under her breath, she slipped out one more “Shit,” at the ridiculousness of the rule.

“Trained, maybe so,” Mama Welles conceded, sipping, smoking, and taking the cards from Misty’s place to start dealing, “But when was the last time you saw NCPD offering to patch up anyone else, much less a merc, much less a merc with a split lip?”

“Tending to a mouth wound is intimate, V,” Misty nodded along, “You have to admit it,”

V felt like she was going insane. What was with this new obsession, and since when did everyone agree that two butterfly stitches on her mouth suddenly meant she was in love? And why could she not suppress a fucking blush every time it came up?

“Look,” She huffed, taking a deep sip from her glass, “I thought we were all smoking the same shi-stuff, but clearly you ladies are on somethin’ else if you think there’s anything romantic about busting your lip so hard it falls apart on ya. And as for cops helpin’ out, I know, they never do, but River seems like a different kind of cop, I don’t know how else to explain it,”

Before V could realize the error of her ways, Misty was already leaning forward across the table, her eyes wide with excitement and her palms flat on the table like she was restraining her glee.

“His name’s River?”

“Oh for fu-”

“River is a beautiful name,” Misty beamed, ignoring how V rolled her eyes. V busied herself with her cigarillo, taking long puffs and savoring the flavor. She didn’t want to say anything else incriminating, like how she had had the exact same thought when she first learned the detective’s name, for instance.

“It is an unusual name, no?” Mama contributed, gaining Misty’s attention and grabbing the first sopapilla from the still-steaming plate.

“It’s definitely unique,” Misty agreed, reaching for her own sugared pastry, “What’s he like?”

V reached across the table, snatching a sopapilla and stuffing it whole into her mouth to avoid the question. She was grateful for Vik’s painkillers making it easy enough to ignore the steam billowing from her mouth with each chew.

“V, es infantil,” Mama said sternly, “We will just wait until you are finished,”

V looked between the two of them, nodding to each other like scheming harpies, and swallowed her sopapilla while it was still too hot and too large, choking slightly and rubbing her throat to ease its passing. When her mouth was empty, burning still, she rasped out a response.

“He’s like a cop,” She cleared her throat a few times, ignoring Misty’s sly smile and Mama’s rolling eyes, determined to change the subject, “Besides, don’t we have something to say about this one?” She gestured to Misty with her thumb, turning to look at Mama quizzically.

In truth, it was a bluff. V had no way of knowing if Mama Welles had anything she wanted to say about Misty, but she knew it was a fairly safe bet. Since Jackie’s death, Mama had really come around to the young mystic, and every time they had their ‘cards and cigarillo’ nights, Mama had a new concern to explore. Sure enough, she took the bait instantly, turning to Misty with furrowed brows.

“You know, mija, I am not happy about this club of yours,”

“You have a club?” V was already genuinely curious, but she was also eager to contribute anything that could push the spotlight of conversation further off her and her stupid cop story. Misty shook her head, smiling despite obviously being frustrated at landing in the hot seat.

“I don’t have a club. I’ve just been going to a new club recently to do some readings,” Misty gestured with her hands like she was tamping down a slow-building fire.

“You read tarot at clubs?” V’s genuine surprise was enough to spur Mama Welles on into the full worried ramblings of a mother hen.

“V,” She urged, “She is doing these bruja readings at a Satanic club downtown. It’s dangerous and she’s going to get in trouble,”

“There’s a Satanic club downtown?” V looked between Mama and Misty, all thoughts of River and her stupid lip wound forgotten. Misty sighed, clearly having gone over this topic at least once or twice with Mama before V’s arrival.

“It’s not a Satanic club, it’s just…gothic,” She shrugged.

“Gothic,” Mama Welles huffed, rolling her eyes. V remembered her reassurance to Misty when she first arrived and decided it was past time to bat for her adopted sister after putting her in the line of fire.

“Well, there are a lotta clubs with gothic styles, Mama,” She tried to reason, before turning her attention towards a much more grateful-looking Misty, “So, since when are you doing readings there?”

“A coupla weeks ago one of my regulars mentioned it, it’s called Akuma. They set me up with a booth as an attraction in their VIP section. Pay’s actually really good, plus I get tips. It’s a cool club, I think you’d like it. You should come!” Misty’s enthusiasm built on itself as she went on, its infectiousness causing V to smile.

“Well I’ve still got this new paycheck just dying to be spent. I might just join you sometime. You said it was called Akuma?” She asked, receiving a nod in return, “Doesn’t that mean like, demon, or some shit in Japanese?”

“V, idioma!” Mama’s stern tone was accompanied by another smack to the arm, a common consequence of ignoring house rules. Her ire was quickly returned to Misty, however, “See, mija? This place is no good.”

“It’s just a name, Mama,” Misty tried to quell the older woman’s concerns, “I’ve met the owners, they’re nice guys. They came over from Atlanta to expand their business and get involved in the night life here. They knew Japanese culture played a big part in the city, so they chose a Japanese name. They probably don’t even know what it means.”

V was silent, taking in the information. Guys from Atlanta coming to Night City to open a gothic club? It didn’t sit right with her. It was probably nothing to do with her, she reasoned, probably nothing to do with the life she knew in Atlanta. Truthfully, however, just the mention of the place had her fighting a spiral.

They moved on, but for the rest of the night, V’s thoughts drifted back to Atlanta like they were magnetized to her past. The club she used to go to, the guys she knew there. Dean in particular. His shitty fucking friends. She couldn’t remember which rounds of cards she lost and which ones she won, if any. Even the drive home was a blur, and Johnny had stayed quiet since she made fun of him in the MaiMai.

V didn’t pull out her agent until she was safe in the confines of her bed. It was a fairly early night for her, just after midnight, but it had been an exhausting couple of days. She had one message from Vik, reminding her to take her meds and hoping she was feeling okay. Mama was right; he was a good man, even if she did pay him to be one. 

She had other messages from Tiny Mike. He’d seen fit to send her a couple of raunchy pics, perhaps because it had been a few days since she last spent the night at his place. The first pic was a simple post-shower ab shot. He knew she liked his lean, rippling muscle, and she couldn’t deny that it looked especially lick-able in the shot. The second pic, however, really grabbed her attention. It was the lower half of his face and his neck, back at such an angle that the metal of his jaw implants caught the light and all the elegant lines of his neck were emphasized. He looked statuesque.

V knew Tiny was an objectively pretty person, but reminders like this one left her biting her lip and thinking of all the other times she’d seen his jaw glistening, all the other times his neck had been so overextended and tense around her. Maybe she should send him a reply.

Before she could think of something suitably sexy to say, her agent pinged with a new message. From River Ward. Her mouth ran dry and she adjusted herself against her pillow mountain in preparation for reading whatever it was he’d sent.

Well shit. That was sweeter than she could have ever anticipated. V felt her chest shifting awkwardly and told herself it was her new ribcage causing the discomfort. She typed out a few replies, some earnest, some sexy, before settling on something that was safe from leaning too far in either direction.

Damn, he was funnier than she was expecting, or maybe it was the whiskeys she’d had at Mama Welles’ making him seem funny. V held her agent, trying to think of something to say to him. She remembered she still had an active tracker on him and couldn’t resist opening her map before she could overthink it. From the flashing data point, it looked like he was at a police station in Westbrook. At this time? She pictured him, maybe hunched over a desk with his agent in his hands, thinking about her. Maybe she could give him something to think about, something he shouldn’t think about at work. She took a few selfies, settling for one similar to what Tiny Mike had sent to her. A close-up of the lower half of her face at an angle that flattered her jawline and emphasized the cybernetics on her neck.

V ensured her lips were prominently featured, practicing her pout until it looked full yet natural. The tiny line of her new scar was almost invisible, and she parted her lips just enough to be suggestive, if he was so inclined to view her that way. After several attempts at this pose, she perfected it, and only let her finger hover over the ‘send’ button for a second before taking the leap.

There, between the pic and the mention of being in bed, she’d surely added a certain spark to his late-night working. V wondered if he’d try something equally fun and lie to her if she asked him what he was up to right now. Maybe he’d tell her he was tearing up the town with his bros, or that he was on a date. Her curiosity, combined with the whiskey buzz, had her typing before she could even decide if it was a good idea.

The minutes between her messages and his reply were enough to kickstart V’s panic. Why was he taking this long? She shouldn’t have sent the stupid picture. She almost longed for Johnny’s trademark bothering just to take her mind off of it. And yet, he’d not shown himself all night. It was normal for him to abscond when she went to see Mama Welles. He claimed the rapidfire Spanish gave him a headache, but it was obvious he was terrified of the older woman. V smiled to herself when she felt the faintest hint of indignation from deep within her; he was in there, somewhere.

Thank god, a response. He was honest too, something she noted with interest if not total surprise. V breathed a sigh of relief before being hit with a rush of giddiness. He zoomed in. Sure, he was just checking out Vik’s handiwork, but still. Then another message came through.

Shit. Shit shit shit. He absolutely could not go to Vik’s for any goddamn reason. Just picturing the look Vik would give her if he ever actually met the stupid fucking cop made her queasy. V knew she had to do some tactful damage control. She couldn’t exactly tell River that Vik kind of maybe thought the detective was her boyfriend and therefore she’d die of embarrassment. Equally, she didn’t want to offend him by rejecting the idea.

She knew she’d caught him there, the NCPD definitely had on-call tech departments specifically to ensure cops weren’t easy to hack in the streets. His last update was probably when he was still in uniform, whenever the hell that might have been. V closed her eyes, relaxing more into the soft silk of her sheets. The cool material felt heavenly against the dull ache in her limbs, and the cocktail of painkillers and booze was slowly but surely setting her up for an easy send-off into deep sleep. 

He followed up before V could get too excited about the implications of his words.

The genuine sentiment caught her off guard again. Nobody ever talked to V this way, she didn’t think anybody in Night City talked like this. She supposed she could probably imagine Jefferson and Elizabeth Peralez wishing each other sweet dreams before drifting off together in bed. That same lingering jealousy briefly spiked within her when she thought of how perfect they’d looked together. When she told them about the Rhyne coverup, they didn’t fight, didn’t scream, barely even reacted. They were just straight into action about how they’d keep themselves safe. V hadn’t had a partner looking out for her like that since…

Jackie. 

She didn’t want her pleasant vibes to sour, so she quickly closed her conversation with the detective and reopened the last pic Mike had sent. The message was only a couple of hours ago, he’d probably still be up. She took a few breaths, refocusing on the picture before typing out a response.

The lurid outline of Tiny Mike’s hard cock straining against the pant leg of his sweatpants was perfected by his cyber arm loosely groping it through the fabric.

V set her agent on the shelf above her bed with a smile. Talking to Tiny always helped take her mind off things. She hunkered down in the sheets, grabbing her squishiest pillow and settling for the night. Thoughts of the new dress she’d buy with her Peralez paycheck and grinding on Tiny Mike in the Afterlife swirled pleasantly in the forefront of her mind, making it easy to push the less pleasant feelings related to River, Jackie, and Misty’s new club to the back. Sleep came to her easily, but everything after that was significantly less easy.

V’s first dream was, frustratingly, about River. They were at some club, clearly inspired by the Afterlife but significantly more high-end. He wore the same button-down he’d had on at Fantaji with smart black slacks and shiny black shoes. Her dress was a silky black material, clinging to her with delicate creases and crinkles. They made eye contact across the bar, just like how they first met those few weeks ago.

In the next moment, they were dancing to some gently swaying string music. Not her taste, but the classiness of the joint made it seem appropriate. His hand was on her back, just like that first night before the Tyger Claws burst into the bar. He held her other hand against his chest with solid chrome digits. The sensation vaguely reminded her of how he’d grabbed her hand for a moment before saying goodbye when he’d brought her home. Her eyeline was level with his gorgeous mouth, and she tilted her head back to find him already looking at her. She leaned in to kiss him, desperate to know how those lips would feel against her own, but the scene had already shifted before she could.

Now he was behind her, and they were alone somewhere. Looked like part of a hotel suite, or maybe a quiet corridor in some upscale resort. V felt a shiver shudder through her as his hands held her hips, much like they had outside the Animal hideout. She reached a hand up behind her, caressing the side of his neck as he brought his lips just below her ear. Achingly slowly, his chrome hand smoothed the distance from her hip up her torso, between her breasts, up her neck, and settled on her bottom jaw. At the same time, his organic hand slipped down the front of her thigh, reaching for the lower hemline of her dress and starting to pull it up with the same deliberate slowness.

“River,” V sighed, tilting her head to give his mouth more space as he dragged his lips and teeth along her neck. She heard and felt the mechanics of his metal prosthetic whirring to life as he tightened his grip on her jaw, assisting with her gradual tilting motion. His other hand was toying with the strap of her thong, his fingers hooked under it to hold the dress in its hiked-up position. He ran his fingers back and forth, drawing lines from her hip bone to the inside of her thigh, seeming to consider touching her properly through the silky fabric, “River, please,”

V was never so submissive, but everything about the scenario felt so right to her in the dream. The possessive grip of his metal fingers digging into her cheeks and the way he was playing with her until she writhed in his hands was something brand new and perfect. The dull throbbing of her core was becoming overwhelming, causing her to dig her nails into the back of his neck as he sucked and nibbled on her earlobe. The hand on her thigh moved out to her hip, gripping tightly and pulling her back against him so she could feel how hard he was against her.

“River, god.” V was gasping, overcome with a desperation she was sure she’d never felt before. Her every thought was consumed with how broad his shoulders felt around her, how his hand was large enough and strong enough that it felt like he could break her jaw if he wanted to, and how soft and hot his lips and mouth felt as he traced a vein up the side of her neck to her ear. His voice in her ear was an impossible rasp that didn’t quite capture the real thing but still left her reeling and restless.

“V, I want you.” The hand on her hip heaved at the fabric of the dress until she could hear it tearing a seam. River dragged his chrome hand from her jaw to the back of her head, grabbing a fistful of hair and using it to guide her forward until she was bent with her forearms against the wall. Although he applied a firm pressure, there was still something tender in the way he treated her. She felt safe, like she could stop him at a moment’s notice if she wanted to, but god did she not want to - V never wanted this dream to end.

As is often the case in dreams, however, it abruptly stopped just as it was getting started. The scene was gone, but V’s new unconscious wanderings had her still holding herself up on her forearms. Now she was in a bed, leaning down with her mouth against the mattress, arms to either side of her head and legs bent under her. She screamed dully into the fabric, an unbearable heat coursing throughout her body. The pain worked through her abdomen like vines, stretching out to her extremities, stinging and burning simultaneously.

She lifted her head for a moment to gulp as much air as she could before the clenching of her stomach made it impossible to breathe. Her eyes were hot and watery and at first she couldn’t tell where she was. The details weren’t all right, but there were enough key features in place that made it abundantly clear; the ratty armchair where she used to shoot up, the oversized lava lamp he’d watch when he was spaced out, the bed itself. She was in Atlanta, in their old apartment. It was cleaner than her foggy memories could recall, but definitely still a squatter dump.

The pain of her infection was still as crystal clear as that day, and she convulsed with the raging fire building inside her. Some part of V, she couldn’t be sure whether it was dream-V or her subconscious that was vaguely aware of the dream, began to surge with deep-seated terror at what this meant. She knew what this pain was, what it would turn out to be; she knew what this day was. Practically delirious with agony, she reached for the pillow beside her and clutched it to her for some semblance of comfort, receiving little in return.

Perhaps because some part of her present-day, sleeping self knew which day this dream represented, or perhaps just because the unconscious world could be cruel, the dream shifted again. She still clutched the pillow, only now she was clutching it against something else, rather than close to her chest. She was still in the bed, the vague memory of the musty smell of unwashed sheets filling the air. V stared at the pillow in a trance as her grip loosened. Its cover was an off-white color that came from months of usage without laundering. There were a few stains on it from old bleeds and the drooling of a drugged-out stupor. In the center, a few small tears caught her eyes.

She remembered this.

Abject horror coursed through her, she could feel her heart racing unsteadily. The pain that had been everywhere inside her subsided just enough to make room for panic. V watched, as if she was watching a BD, as a hand that looked entirely too much like her old hand started to reach out to the pillow. The hand was shaking, though whether that was the fear or the start of withdrawals was hard to tell. Two of the fingers were swollen and purple, the knuckles were red and raw with cuts. The hand got closer to the pillow, gently pressing on the middle of the fabric. She watched the material fold under the strength of her quaking grip. 

An unsteady resolve overcame her as she started to lift the pillow. She had to see. She had to see.

The hand wrenched the pillow away as V awoke with a gasping breath, bolting upright in the bed. Breathing deeply, V focused on the absence of pain. She didn’t have an infection. She was sweating, but it wasn’t the same churning internal heat she’d felt in the dream, just sweat. She searched around the darkness in a frenzy, desperate for details. The cool silk of the sheets around her was the first anchoring point. Then, the overstuffed fluffiness of her favorite pillow. Her eyes adjusted to the low light to see the shape of her white rug, the faint reflections on the armory door, and the ever-expanding pile of clothes on the bean bag chair.

She was in her apartment. She was safe.

V pressed a hand to her chest, soothing her pulse with a slow, circular rubbing motion. She closed her eyes, listening to herself breathe and checking the time on her ocular HUD. 05:30. Hardly her usual, but maybe it would be best to just get up and start the day. The idea of lying back down in her small puddle of sweat and trying to drift off again made her nauseous. While she weighed the pros and cons, she felt Johnny’s presence flicker into existence nearby.

‘I’m thinkin’ a hot shower and a strong fuckin’ coffee might be the best bet,’ He said, not unkindly, from the couch. V lifted her head to look for him in the dark, placing him by the tell-tale blue glow of his hologram. His posture looked stiff, awkward. He’d made passing comments about her dreams in the past, usually when he inevitably featured in them. She hadn’t had this particular nightmare for a month, and never in this awful detail. It was probably the painkillers. Or the cigarillos. Or the whiskey. Most likely all of the above.

‘I think that might be the best thing you’ve ever said,’ She used her internal voice, not wanting to make any real sounds at this time. V moved with a practiced, steady pace, climbing out of the bed like she was trying not to wake someone. She gently pressed the button that unshuttered the blinds and watched the early morning eke through the window, revealing her paradise with desert daylight. Everything was as it should be again.

V’s shower was punishingly hot, pushing away the images she didn’t want to have behind her eyelids any longer. Johnny stood behind her, quietly taking in the space and clearly trying to be unobtrusive. Despite his efforts, V could feel him itching inside of her, trying to keep himself from thinking certain thoughts or asking certain questions. Just as it was in life, Johnny’s self-discipline had not improved with fifty years of death-like stasis.

‘So, V, about that dream,’ He paused for a moment, expecting some kind of backlash or snarky comment, but she didn’t have the energy, ‘What’s that about? I’ve seen that fuckin’ pillow like ten times by now, and every time you near piss the bed,’

‘Sorry, Johnny,’ V mumbled internally, keeping her eyes closed and pushing her forehead against the cool wall tiles, ‘Don’t know what to tell you. Don’t really wanna talk about it,’

Even shaken to the core and helpless under the relentless beating of the water, V’s resolve was clear. Johnny cleared his throat a few times, possibly trying to disperse his own uncomfortable feelings or maybe just adjusting to hers, and then spoke again.

‘Yeah, okay. I’m gonna make myself scarce for a while, but holler if you need me. You should hit up that pretty boy, Tiny Mike, today maybe. Take your mind off things,’

‘Thanks, Johnny,’ V faintly smiled against the tile; he was trying his best to be considerate.

‘Yeah no problem, kid,’

‘Oh, Johnny?’ She turned to face him, opening her eyes to the world again. Surprisingly, he didn’t even do his usual gratuitous ogling of her tits, instead holding his head at a high angle and focusing solely on her face, his eyebrows raised to attention, ‘I think Bella Blanca is a cute name for the MaiMai, and I think your crush on River is even cuter.’

‘Fuckin’ bitch.’ He huffed, walking away before disappearing entirely. V smiled to herself, grateful to be able to turn the tables on their dynamic whenever she could. The mention of River reminded her of her difficult night, and she decided it was best to quickly move on. She let the water wash over her, resolving to buy herself an expensive breakfast, then shop for an expensive dress. And she’d definitely catch up with Tiny tonight. Thinking about his lean, lithe body and his pretty face made it easy to forget about her dreams, the good and the bad.

The image of the hand, reaching shakily for the pillow, was a distant memory again for the time being.

Chapter Text

Ichabod monitored the condenser, adjusting the burner as needed until the black-red hue of the liquid in the Florence flask lit up to its signature berry coloring. A few more minutes at that heat and it would be ready to stabilize. This was the tenth batch of Sanguine he’d made from their first donor, it would fetch more than enough to generously split between the three of them - four if he included Phelps’ payoff - and even add some to the kitty once they’d processed it and pushed it out to the streets. They’d only been here a few months and things were already flowing smoothly, they were already discussing expanding.

Gaur had been right to push for the move to Night City. The worst city between the Atlantic and the Pacific; it was a hub of such depravity that they wouldn’t even register as a blip on its pulse. Ichabod couldn’t say he loved living here, but it was the ideal veil for lining their pockets and increasing their growth. 

He turned off the burner, clutching the neck of the flask with the crucible tongs and pouring the fluid through small funnels each aligned over slim test tubes. He’d have to leave them to cool before stoppering and labeling, giving him time to clean his equipment and ready the next batch. 

Some of his cut from this batch was definitely going towards new equipment. The pieces he’d brought with him from Atlanta were among his best, but there was so much more on offer here. Biotechnica sold ultra-low temperature freezers that would allow them to store more product, for a lot longer too. They could stockpile and cut costs on supply for their donors. He hadn’t tested the effects of cooking with frozen donor samples, but if they could make the donation process quicker, they wouldn’t need to use so much Sanguine. Ichabod resolved to bring it up the next time they were all together; it might take more than his cut to get the freezer space.

Faint murmuring to his side alerted Ichabod, and he turned away from the lab sink to check on the donor in her elevated bunk. She was coming to again, eyes bleary and unfocused. She tried to sit up, but her arms were weak and she quickly flopped back down on the threadbare mattress.

“Hello again,” Ichabod said warmly, passing a hand over her forehead. Temperature was a little cool, but that was to be expected, “Having a nice time, pet?”

“Mmm,” She smiled, trying to nuzzle into his hand before looking up at him with hooded eyes, “I am now you’re here,”

“Really now?” His voice was level, practiced, “You sure you don’t want Haru again?”

“Is he here? Is he coming?” Her excitement was obvious as her eyes darted around the room, trying and failing to sit up again. She’d awoken several times now and had always been eager to hear Haru’s name. Ichabod pulled his agent from his pocket and made a note of her enthusiasm in his observations.

“Not tonight, I’m afraid. Maybe tomorrow though if you’re good,” He knew she wouldn’t make it until tomorrow. She’d probably be gone in the next hour or two, if her blueing lips and weak pulse were any indicator, “Are you going to be good?”

“Mhm,” She mumbled, her eyes drifting closed, “I’ll be very good.” She smiled for him, likely an attempt at seduction, but he used the opportunity to hold her bottom jaw open, pulling a test tube of Sanguine he’d prepared earlier from his labcoat and removing the stopper with his teeth. He poured the liquid into her mouth, taking a moment to admire the bright red staining on her gums and tongue. This would be her fifth dose in as many days. Once she’d swallowed it down, he noted her dosages in his agent; he was curious to see how the next donor would compare. It only took seconds for her to drift back to unconsciousness, boneless on the mattress. 

Ichabod took a moment to assess her bound wrists. There were no rashes or abrasions, she clearly hadn’t put up any resistance or made an attempt at escape in the better part of a week that she’d been with them - something else worth noting. Returning to his lab sink to continue cleaning up for the night, he heard Haru’s self-assured steps outside the door. It whooshed open and Ichabod threw a brief glance over his shoulder to confirm Haru’s presence.

“How is it up there tonight?” Ichabod asked over the gentle clanking of his washing up.

“Busy for a Wednesday,” Haru spoke, slowly striding over to the donor’s near-lifeless body, “Did she ask for me again today?”

“She did, you just missed her,”

“Good. It’s really some good shit huh, Eyes?” Haru brought a hand up to idly toy with the two plastic tubes protruding from the donor’s neck, flicking them lightly and watching the skin shift in response.

“I’ve told you not to call me that,” Ichabod retorted, moving away from the sink to put himself between Haru and the donor, “And don’t touch that, you might mess something up,”

“What’s with the double-stab, anyway?” Haru redirected, almost getting his hands too close to the cannula again but retracting when he caught Ichabod’s stern glare.

“This is a dual-port cannula, a design of my own creation. It creates two streams of blood, allowing it to aerate more effectively and making it easier to develop both the Sanguine and the Bliss variations of the product,” Ichabod leaned over the donor, closely examining her neck to ensure the cannula was secured, “It’s far thicker than standard cannulas, as you can see, meaning we can drain at more varied speeds. It also happens to leave…dramatic scarring. Just a theatrical touch I devised,”

“Damn, so that’s why you’re the brains, Dr Eyes,” Haru sounded genuinely impressed, but held his hands out in a surrendering motion when Ichabod’s glare grew several degrees fiercer, “Sorry, Bod, just seems like a perfect nickname when you got all those,” Haru gestured to the small trio of red optical implants protruding from Ichabod’s forehead, “What are they for anyway? You already got both the metal optics, why get more? They help you come up with all this shit?” He spread his arms, referencing the lab as a whole.

“Partially. They allow me to perform more in-depth scans, cross-reference my notes with new data, examine the donors more closely. That in turn helps me come up with ‘all this shit’, as you put it,” Ichabod’s even tone reflected his level of respect for the group’s newest member.

“Yeah, examine the donors more closely,” Haru sneered, eyeing the donor up and down, “You like ‘em when they’re like this? Blacked out and shit? I prefer when they’re awake,”

“I don’t mean it like that, you know I don’t partake. Besides, this one’s nearly gone. You’ll have to take her tomorrow, then it’s time to find a new one. Seen any likely candidates yet?”

“Plenty, Phelps has been doin’ a good job of herding them our way, he’s worth his cut,” Haru replied easily, crossing his arms and leaning his hip against the counter beside Ichabod and the bunk, “I was thinkin’, though, how about that new chick?”

“‘New chick’?” Ichabod queried with distinct disinterest, barely looking up from his agent.

“The weird one with the hair, Gaur gave her a booth,” Haru said, curling one hand in front of his face to examine the chipped polish of his nails.

“Well if Gaur gave her a booth then probably not, Haru. You know that,” 

“Yeah, yeah. She’s cute is all. Can always find another little witch in Night City, you know, take it from a native. Anyway, is the next batch ready yet? Gaur sent me down to collect for tonight’s orders,”

“Sanguine or Bliss?” Ichabod made his way over to the freezer storage and pulled out a few racks of stoppered test tubes, Haru following leisurely behind.

“Both,” Haru watched as Ichabod nodded in confirmation and transferred the test tubes into a steel-plated briefcase, fitting each one into a padded slot. The man then stooped low, bending his tall frame nearly in half to open some low cabinets and pull out a box of inhalers. He settled both on the countertop and turned back to face Haru.

“Don’t forget to come in in the morning to deal with her.” Ichabod gestured towards the bunk with a thumb, his optics reeling with information as he ran a mental stock count and planned for the next donor’s arrival.

“Yeah, I got it,” Haru replied, taking the box of Bliss inhalers under one arm and using his free hand to grab the metal case of Sanguine vials. Ichabod escorted him out of the lab, stopping short when Haru turned to throw one last comment over his shoulder at the door with a thin grin, “How’d you like a cute redhead next, huh Bod?”

“You know it makes no difference to me, Haru.” Ichabod rolled his eyes, endlessly disinterested in the other man’s banter.

“I’ll find you someone good, promise.” Haru said decisively, flashing a wink and heading up the metal stairs to surface level. Ichabod closed and locked the door behind him, glad to have gotten their nightly interaction out of the way. He wasn’t as easily won over as Gaur, and he trusted Haru about as far as he could throw him, which certainly wasn’t far. Ichabod preferred the company of an empty lab anyway.

He checked on the new Sanguine batch and stoppered the test tubes when he confirmed they’d reached a safe temperature. He labeled them and moved them over to the freezer racks, bringing up his agent once more to update the new stock numbers. Faint, rattling breathing caught his attention and he glanced around until he saw the donor’s mouth hanging open on her bunk.

He made his way over to her, casting his eyes up and down her body to scan her organs. Total failure. Her pulse was gone, which was no surprise given how much blood they’d taken over the week. There was still more to go, of course, she’d likely only lost a little over half at this point. Ichabod adjusted the cannula and the tubing to increase the flow, manipulating the bunk to create a decline towards the donor’s neck. She would finish draining by the time Haru came to take her in the morning, and by tomorrow night there would be a new donor to monitor.

Ichabod finished up and locked the lab for the night, breathing a sigh of relief. He would sleep soundly tonight; he always preferred an empty lab. Tomorrow, his work continued.

Chapter Text

The next time River Ward encountered V the merc, la tigresa, as he’d come to refer to her in the safety of his thoughts, was far sooner than he could have hoped. It was more than a week after their pseudo-collaboration over the Rhyne case. More than a week since she’d sent him that pic of her ridiculous mouth, lips parted. He looked at the pic every day, practically hourly, always hunched over his agent like he could decode his fortune with her lips as a scrying tool.

Putting his agent away, he picked through the building, shepherding his thoughts back to the job when he saw her. 

The burned-out shell of a Santo Domingo warehouse wasn’t where he would have expected to run into her, but River was slowly learning that having expectations about this woman was an exercise in futility. This particular warehouse had burned down two days prior. The owner filed a report claiming his business partner, who swiftly fled the city, was behind it. So here River was, Night City’s fucking janitor.

The IA meeting was about as helpful as anticipated. Hurry up and wait, was the message from the higher ups. He picked up any and every lost cause case he could while he waited. Every day Han was still in the bullpen was another day River headed out to find something, anything in Night City that he could fix. 

River made his way to the back of the building’s carcass, hoping the office had anything useful. The office door was busted off its hinges and she was inside, turned away from him. River had to catch himself against the doorframe, dumbfounded at the sight.

Here was V, sifting through the same ash and rubble that he was hoping to pan like a desperate prospector. She idly pulled open metal desk drawers and shuffled through the detritus. She had to be here on merc work, if her black boots and cargos were any indicator. Her hair was up, exposing freckled shoulders between the straps of a tight tank top. It looked like the one she’d worn outside the Red Queen’s Race. It was almost mocking him, reminding him it hadn’t been that long since that night, even if it felt like far too long.

He wondered if the abrasive scraping noise of the warped drawers had been enough to cover the sound of his arrival before V shattered that illusion without even turning her head.

“You’ve got about three seconds to turn tail and leave before you catch a blade between the eyes, choom,” God, he’d missed the slight rasp of her voice. Adrenaline from her threat had him feeling hot, but he knew he had to speak up to avoid an untimely demise.

“Hardly the way to speak to someone who saved your life,” He patted himself on the back for pulling something vaguely cool and playful from thin air when all he could think about was how phenomenally those black pants hugged her ass. His eye jolted up to meet hers when she turned to face him, surprise evident in her sliced pupils. Her shock was short-lived, quickly replaced with her familiar confident demeanor.

“Buenas días, detective,” She hummed, crossing her arms and leaning back to rest against the desk. River watched an easy smile form on her pouty lips as she looked him up and down and thought about crossing the space, pushing her up onto the desk and finally pressing his lips to hers, “This your usual kind of hangout, or are you here for something in particular?”

River was still lost in the reverie of imagining how her lip stud might feel, failing completely to reply. Either V was feeling kind or she never expected a response because she was swiftly retrieving a datashard and waving it in front of him the way someone might wave a juicy steak in front of a dog in a cartoon.

“You lookin’ for this, by any chance?” Her voice had a sing-song lilt to it and River felt like she could probably hypnotize him if she had a pocket watch instead of a datashard like he’d seen in old movies.

“What’s that?” His voice registered as too quiet and too stupid for his liking. Had she hypnotized him? He couldn’t remember why he was here, how he had got here, how he would get back to the station later. She laughed at him, a fucking beautiful peel of a melody that had his heart stuttering. Shit, what was this power she had and why did it make him feel so defenseless?

“I’ve already swept the place, hacked the comp in this office and the one upstairs. Put all the info on this shard. You’re here about the arson, right?” She dipped her head at the end of her question, nodding along like she was talking to a moron, and maybe she was.

“Right,” River nodded, rubbing a hand over the harsh two-day stubble of his jaw and crossing his arms, taking a moment to compose himself and remember who the hell he had been before she planted her cat eyes on him, “So, you find anything interesting?”

“Sorry,” She smirked, “Client-merc privileges prevent me from sharing my findings with law enforcement. I’m sure you understand,” She raised one eyebrow like a challenge, toying with him, daring him to join in with her game. River almost didn’t bite, right up until she let her eyes trail over him from top to toe again, slower this time, and he had to clench his leg muscles to keep himself upright. He could play this game. He had to if he stood a chance against her.

“You do realize I could arrest you just for being here, right? This is trespassing at the least. Obstructing the course of justice if you don’t hand over the shard,” River saw her smile grow and thought that maybe if he took it one step further he would see that same grin that took his breath more than a week ago, “Am I gonna have to put my hands on you again, merc, or are you gonna behave this time?”

V’s day was suddenly looking up. The surge of adrenaline and arousal was enough to have her gripping the edge of the desk behind her. After how he’d patted her down outside the Red Queen’s Race, she was developing a clear mental picture of being manhandled by him again. Ideally without the hindrance of a broken body and a near-death experience this time. How was he so effortless? It’s like he was always primed with a perfect response to make her knees weak. She had to get a hold of herself before she did something stupid.

“I always behave,” She pushed off from the desk, a lilt in her voice and a sparkle in her eyes, “That’s why my clients like me so much,” V stalked across the room, stopping just a couple of steps shy of River, glancing over his shoulder to ensure he was alone. Before she could slip past him, River braced his forearms against the doorframe level with his head, blocking her path.

“Where’d you think you’re going?” He looked down at her with a quirked brow. His tone sounded stern, but V could see a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. It reminded her of how his whole face lit up when he smiled at her just over a week ago. She had to force butterflies down before they could become bile at the back of her throat. She took a step closer to him.

“I have to deliver this shard to my client if I wanna get paid, detective. You don’t want me goin’ hungry now, do ya?” Her smile was sly, confident in her ability to disarm him, and River wasn’t prepared to admit her confidence was well-founded.

“Well, obviously not, but-”

“Don’t wanna be the reason I starve to death on these mean streets, do you, detective?” She took another step closer, within arm’s reach now. River wondered if she’d say yes if he asked her out right now. Maybe he could offer to buy her a meal, since she’s apparently so hungry. Her smile cranked up a couple of notches and he recognized that same evil tinge he’d seen in Fantaji when she caught him in a lie; she was playing with him. He had to retaliate.

“Didn’t realize you were in such dire straits, V. I assumed you were a better merc than that. Spend all your pay from the Peralez job already?” Oh yeah, that caught her off guard. Her eyes narrowed and River felt a sick kind of glee at the way her sharp pupils sized him up as her smile fell into a pulled-back line. The tigress came and went in a flash, though, and then she took another, calculated step towards him. They were almost flush against one another now. The ruin of the office was suffocating, like the place was still on fire, and River was huffing smoke. He kept his face steely, he couldn’t show how she got to him.

“You’re funny, River,” Shit, she would say his name right now, wouldn’t she, “I appreciate funny, but I still got a job to do. I’m sure you understand,” She moved closer still, placing a hand on his side, just over his ribs, gently ushering him aside. Her touch felt like fire. He let her maneuver him, taking her in from all angles as she moved past him and out into the shell of the warehouse.

“I’ve got a job to do too, y’know,” She turned at the sound of his voice, crossing her arms and bouncing impatiently on the balls of her feet, “If I run into you again like this and you’re breaking the law, I’m not gonna be able to let you go,”

“Oh, I’m sure you wouldn’t be able to let me go,” She hummed, stepping closer and letting her smile turn vicious again, “You’d have to be able to catch me first, though,” 

He was ready this time.

“Caught you outside the Red Queen’s Race easily enough, didn’t I?” She liked that, her teeth sharp and dangerous and impossible to ignore. Her hooded eyes seemed to shimmer in the light.

“You had me at something of a disadvantage,” She murmured, and River noticed how her gaze lingered around his lips. He smiled, his response primed and ready.

“And here I was thinking that was your best work,” He leaned his shoulder against the doorway, crossing one foot over the other, praying that he looked more at-ease than he felt. She rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, working her jaw in obvious frustration. He almost wanted to pull out his agent and snap a pic of her, so easily wound up.

“You haven’t seen my best work, believe me,” She glared at him, seductive and threatening in that way only she seemed to know how to do. River pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek in an effort to keep his cool.

“Speaking of best work,” His eyes fell to her mouth, “Your ripper must really be some kinda artist. Your lip looks perfect,” That earned her full grin and it felt like a painless punch to the gut. River’s breath was simply gone for a moment as she sparkled for him. 

“Adulador,” [Flatterer], “I’ll let him know he’s got an admirer. See you around, River,” And then she was turning away, depriving him of the view of her perfect lip, her perfect eyes, every other perfect part. River felt himself calling out before he could bite back his own needy desperation.

“Hope it’s soon, V. Try not to break any laws ‘til then.” She threw him a playful wink over her shoulder.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll be keeping an eye on me.” She chuckled to herself and nodded her head in the direction of his organic eye before stalking off, leaving River alone in the warehouse with no evidence to solve his case and not a care in the world about it.

Four days later, V sat in the Bella Blanca, twiddling with the knobs of her police scanner with the intensity of someone diffusing a bomb. Her habit of checking in on River with her tracker was getting out of hand. It was irregular to say the least that she could know where he was at any given moment without his knowledge.

‘Irregular?’ Johnny’s visage appeared in the passenger seat, ‘Most people just call it fuckin’ stalking, V,’

“Shut up,” She muttered aloud, partially to Johnny and partially to the radio static as she finessed the station until the waves came through the car’s speakers clearly. She glanced between her agent displaying the tracker data and Bella Blanca’s mirrors, waiting for the right moment. Unlike the warehouse gig, no fixer gave her this job. Still, she was sure she could scrounge up some eddies for her trouble. 

Minutes later, she was hunkered down around the alley corner. Checking her tracker, his flashing dot hopped along the buildings; he was in pursuit and headed straight for her. She climbed the fire escape to the roof of a three-story building, hugging the brick wall of one of the taller buildings it was sandwiched between. V set up the same tripwire she’d used outside the sex shop and waited.

The next fifteen seconds was a flurry of activity and by the end of it, V had a triumphant boot on the back of the perp. The gonk groaned as she turned out his pockets. Sure enough, he had a harddrive the size of a Burrito XXL tucked inside his jacket. A brief scan showed it had almost 1.5TB of Biotechnica data that could feed her for at least a fortnight.

While V stood on the poor guy’s back like a hunter with a trophy buck, River was bent at the waist, hands on his knees, catching his breath. Cardio was never his strong suit, and making the narrow leaps between rooftops behind his perp had him questioning all his life choices. His heart was beating so rapidly that it took him a minute to realize it was V who’d intercepted, V who was currently holding a harddrive up to the afternoon sunlight with a discerning expression, V who had one solid combat boot squarely between the son of a bitch’s shoulders.

River wondered if he’d looked like this when she pinned him outside Neil’s shop. Helpless and stupid. Probably. He straightened out, heaving a weighty breath and forcing himself to ignore the faint tingling of jealousy edging its way into his mind. He was too old to be thinking like that. Plus, at least with him she’d called him handsome; she hadn’t spared a glance at her latest quarry, wasn’t even straddling him.

“Whatcha got there, V?” He hazarded a step beside the perp before realizing V had him paralyzed and took his place beside her, hoping to get a clearer view of the harddrive.

“Oh, y’know,” She started, stepping away from him and wandering over to lean on the brick wall of the next building over, “Just a juicy meal ticket,”

She waggled the harddrive at him in the same condescending way she’d taunted him with the datashard at the warehouse, but he was prepared today. He took a confident stride toward her, not missing how her slitted pupils pulsed slightly as she looked up at him.

“Mind if I take a look?” He held a hand out expectantly, shrugging the shoulders of his coat to hide the way his chrome hand slipped around something in his pocket. He’d been carrying them around every day since the warehouse, waiting for this moment. After some hesitation, she relented. River was ready the second she held her hand out.

He pulled the cuffs from his pocket and slapped one clean around her outstretched wrist. Before she could react, he moved closer, pulled her arms up, passed the chain of the cuffs over a drainage pipe above her head, and clicked the other cuff securely around her other wrist. 

He took half a step back to admire his catch. The drainage pipe had been slightly higher up than he’d originally estimated, leaving her outstretched in a way that left a slice of her toned stomach on show between the high waist of her leather pants and the cropped hem of her top. Before he could have any thoughts about how easy it would be to slip a hand under there, the tigress was out in full force.

“River, what the fuck?” She looked up at her cuffed wrists, tugging on the pipe a few times to establish that she was, indeed, stuck. When her pointed gaze turned to him, River couldn’t hold in his smug smile. Getting the better of her was its own reward.

“Thought I’d run into you again sooner or later, told you I wouldn’t be able to let you go if I caught you breaking the law again, V. So, I got some deactivator cuffs from the station, just for you,” He grinned as she struggled with a little more fervor.

“My gorilla arms won’t work,” She huffed, letting her arms go limp above her head. Heat prickled along the back of River’s neck under her steely glare.

“Like I said, deactivator cuffs,” River wanted to bask in his success. Finally, he’d one-upped the woman who seemed to always be several steps ahead of him. Basking is what he wanted, but life could be cruel, and it only took seconds for River’s glee to sour. 

V planted her boots shoulder-width apart, jutting her hips towards him and leaning her shoulders back against the wall in an exaggerated shrug. He watched as she sighed, pushing her breasts out and straining her top’s fabric. Trailing over her ribs, he noted with extreme interest how he could just about see the shadows between them when she was at a full stretch. By the time his gaze reached her face, she was smiling coyly at him, even batting her eyelashes for effect. How was she the one acting smug right now?

“Like what you see, detective?” She murmured, delighting in how she could see his jaw twitch in response, “Gonna cop a feel while I’m all helpless and at your mercy?” 

At that, his face twisted with distaste and he suddenly wanted to wash his eyes for ogling her. Instead, he grimaced and stepped away from her.

“No,” He said firmly, “I’m not some kind of scumbag,”

“That’s funny, I thought you were some kind of cop,” It was impossible to miss the venom in her voice, though whether she was more offended at being restrained or refused River couldn’t tell.

“Very funny,” He rolled his eye, biting back more offended comebacks. Her eyes changed, softening, reminding him of how vulnerable she’d looked in his arms outside the Red Queen’s Race. The corners of her mouth dropped, the sly smile he was so accustomed to falling into a sadness he liked much less. River felt his insides itch to comfort her as she shuffled from foot to foot, adjusting her arms and looking nervous.

“Well, could you please loosen these a little for me?” She jiggled the metal links of the cuffs against the pipe, discomfort plain on her face. River stepped forward immediately, grateful for the chance to help.

“Of course, just a sec,” He stood closer, reaching up to adjust the cuff settings, and V took her chance. Leveraging her weight against the pipe, she pulled her legs up to wrap them around River’s waist, tugging them tightly together. Her mouth was so close to his jaw that her lips almost brushed it as she spoke.

“You sure you don’t want a feel?” Her voice was quiet but clear, a bell ringing in his ears alone, “Just a little one?”

River’s mind diverged in two directions. In the first, she was inviting him to touch her, maybe she’d wanted it as long as he had. She was so warm pressed against him. He wanted to thank his ancestors for how strong and thick her thighs were around him. How many times had he thought about what it would feel like to be in her clutches like this? 

The second direction in his mind, however, told him this was just another trap. Another of her endless ploys designed to trip him. If he fell for this, one way or another, she’d be walking away and leaving him clueless and prone in the dirt. Again. How many times would he let her get the upper hand before he finally understood this was all a game to her?

He had to play if he wanted to win, and dammitall, he wanted to win. Just once. Just to know he wasn’t completely defenseless against her. He could feel his jaw muscles bouncing in frustration as he schooled his face into something resembling indifference. Swallowing the tightness in his throat, River prepared to be suitably steely.

“You not even gonna say please?” He murmured, firmly planting his hands on the outside of her thighs and relishing in the way her lips parted, her eyes flickering with something that could be anticipation or uncertainty. He didn’t give her the time to retaliate, patting a leg and ordering, “Down girl,” dismissively.

Sure enough, V’s legs released their grip, and she stood dumbfounded as he backed away from her. River turned, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. She couldn’t know how fucking smug he felt right now. He picked the harddrive up from the floor beside V’s boot, surprised that she didn’t take the opportunity to kick him or step on his hand or something equally vindictive. When he looked she was still slack-jawed. Shit, this was almost as good as making her angry. 

Pocketing the drive, River moved on to the perp. He pulled a set of regular cuffs from the back of his belt and clipped his wrists before hauling him awkwardly to his feet.

“Thanks for the assist, V,” He huffed, roughly guiding the perp back the way he came, “I’ll come back and get you down after I’m done with this gonk’s paperwork.” 

River kept up the dismissive tone, not even bothering to look back to see if she was still gawking at him. She must have been, he was certain that la tigresa would not stay quiet in captivity. 

Within a minute, he was out of sight and V was alone, splayed out like a fucking buffet.

“Motherfucker.” She grumbled to herself, pulling on the cuffs again, confirming that she was as stupid as she felt. Just when she needed it the least, Johnny glitched in beside her, one leg propped up on the wall and a cigarette hanging from his lips.

‘Jesus Christ, V,’ He blew digital smoke between them, stepping away and gesturing up and down at her with the cig, ‘This is undignified,’

‘I know, I know, I know everything that you’re gonna say to me right now, okay?’

‘Can I say it anyway?’ He glanced at her over the tops of his aviators, clearly disinterested in her response. She sighed as he started walking a slow circle, letting himself enter some pseudo-preacher mode reserved for when she was the most embarrassed, ‘You’re here, handcuffed to a pipe on a rooftop - basically easy pickings for any passing asshole - and yet, you’re gushing for the fucking cop who did this to you?’

V stayed quiet. 

‘You got nothing to say for yourself right now?’ Johnny crossed his arms, ceasing his pacing to glare at her. V knew she was about to say something stupid, but she couldn’t stop the words.

‘But he’s so ho-’

‘Don’t say hot,’ A silver finger pointed sternly in her face stopped her mid-confession, ‘I don’t wanna hear about how hot he is, I can already feel all the stupid girl feelings you’re having about him,’

‘Come on, you’re having them too,’ She countered, nearly able to smile at the transparent disgust on her parasite’s face.

‘Am fucking not,’ He grumbled, continuing his circle to face away from her. V could feel him trying to ignore the shifting, fluttering feelings coursing through her stomach.

‘Oh, please,’ She scoffed, ‘You’re living in my head. If I’m feeling stupid girl feelings then so are you, Johnny boy,’

Whether he believed it or not, Johnny at least had the wherewithal to avoid pursuing an argument. The way their thoughts pushed up against each other in V’s mind made it obvious that it wasn’t just her psyche replaying the feeling of River’s body between her legs, his hands on her thighs, the filthy way his voice sounded saying down girl.

Johnny spoke up again after only a minute or two, his impatience almost always outweighing all other emotions. 

‘So what’s your plan, V? Surely you’re not just gonna wait for him to come back?’ He turned back to face her, sneering over his aviators with unfounded superiority. V couldn’t help but notice the absence of any cruel nicknames or slurs for their dear detective.

‘Of course not. I have a plan: handsfree calling,’ She brought up her contact list with her optics and scrolled down to that same familiar contact, the ringing already sounding before Johnny could protest.

‘For fuck’s sake, this guy again?’ He sighed with derision. V ignored him, trying to adjust herself to look at least a little less compromised.

“Hey V,” Tiny Mike’s voice filled her ears, sounding more confident than usual, “Are you calling to apologize for canceling on me? I still went to the Afterlife, y’know, but it wasn’t the same without someone there to step on my neck at the end of the night,”

“Cute,” She smirked, wondering if he was buzzed or just feeling ballsy, “I know I went radio silent on you about goin’ dancing, but I think you’ll forgive me when you see the present I have for you,”

“Oh yeah?” She’d piqued his interest if the sudden gravelly quality in his voice was any indicator.

“Yeah, I think you’ll like it. Just come to the nav point I’m sending you and pick it up.” She hung up before he could reply. He always got more worked up when she acted cold, and the hard-to-get impossible-to-please persona was always fun to play. V was already looking forward to seeing his face when he found her like this, easily ignoring Johnny’s eye rolling in the meantime.

The sun had set before River returned to the rooftop. He never planned to leave her for so long, but getting caught up at the station was an inevitability. Throughout the afternoon when he thought of her he felt a shameful glee at the idea that nobody else knew. He’d caught the tigress and she was just waiting for him, literally locked away from the rest of the world.

He scolded himself for finding joy in the mental image of her, spread out and cuffed up and stunned into silence. Ideas of returning to her and finding her enraged had his mind reeling. How would he convince her to forgive him? Maybe he could take her out to dinner and some drinks, if she’d let him. Maybe she’d want to go dancing. Maybe the best way to make it up to her was just to let her get her revenge. Thoughts of unleashing her and having her descend upon him thrilled him as much as groveling at her feet.

Any ideas he’d formed throughout the afternoon came to a shuddering halt when he climbed the fire escape to find the roof empty. No V, no handcuffs, no signs of a destructive escape. His initial shock quickly gave way to panic as he considered the possibilities. There was no way she could have freed herself from the cuffs; they were explicitly designed to deactivate cyberware. And he’d left her strung out on a rooftop like a fucking prize for any asshole in a city full of assholes. River kept his head on a swivel, beads of sweat forming on the back of his neck as he assessed the area for any sign of where she’d gone. He fished his phone out and sent off a message, desperate for some reassurance.

He paced while he waited for her to respond, raking a hand over his head and continuing his search. The agonizing three minutes it took her to respond felt like an eternity.

River nearly choked taking in the image. The deactivator cuffs intertwined with the metal bars of a bed frame, locked on either side around wrists. A man’s wrists. River absently noted one of the wrists was metal, looked like one of the newer combat cyberarm models. 

Burning shame and jealousy coiled up from his gut like a fireball. Why did he leave her here? What was he thinking? Disgust at his own arrogance bloomed in his throat, leaving it thick and aching. He really thought la tigresa would just wait around for him on some rooftop? He needed to remind himself that she had plenty of options available to her. Guys with new-tech cyber arms who would hack deactivator cuffs and earn her gratitude, and it looked like her gratitude went a long fucking way.

That night, River’s dreams were a torrent of shameful fantasies. V over him, him flat on his back - on a bed this time rather than a dirty alley. She’d cuff him to it, pressing their bodies together. He’d feel the same squeeze of her thighs that he’d had on the rooftop. Her hands would be all over him, searching and scratching and burning with her touch. She’d press her lips to his ear and say - what was it she’d said outside Neil’s place? Dámelo. Give it to me. He’d be at her mercy, doing anything to work as much Spanish out of her as possible. River woke in a cold sweat, undecided about whether to be grateful or ashamed. She always pulled him in two directions.

Five days was enough for River to forget about his shame, for the most part. He sat in a Watson diner going over case notes and nursing a coffee, waiting for it to get dark enough to do some proper recon. Just a few blocks away, some Maelstrom gangoons were trying to set up shop as dealers, and a little hacking might be enough to bring them down. It was low-priority for the NCPD, but with no feedback yet from IA, it was all River could do to keep himself from Han. They’d both been shuffled around to keep them apart in the midst of the investigation, though River doubted if there was any real investigating happening. How long could it take to review that security footage and see corruption?

He was knee deep in his stream of concern when a knock on the tabletop snapped him back into the moment. There she was, tapping the black chrome of her fingertips against the formica, and there was his shame and embarrassment re-emerging. The things he’d thought about those hands doing to him, and here she was smiling like it was any normal day.

“Buenos tardes, detective,” Her splayed fingers lingered on the table’s surface in a delicate swirl and he couldn’t take his eyes off them, especially if the alternative was making eye contact. Surely one glance and she’d know every thought he’d had about her, every message he’d typed out and nearly sent, every touch he’d indulged, pulling her name from his mouth on several occasions. His silence was becoming suspicious, he knew he had to face his fate. He looked up at her for the briefest possible moment. Her eyes shone too bright for a dingy place like this.

“V,” He nodded, busying himself with moving his coffee mug around while he fought for something to say, “Didn’t expect to see you again,”

“Oh, you mean when you cuffed me to a roof and left me for dead?” For a brief second, River thought he was about to meet the business end of one of her knives, but then she laughed and he looked up to see her teeth and her lips and the way her eyes creased at the corners and he suddenly didn’t care if he was about to die. “C’mon, River, relax. I’m just messin’ with you,”

“Want a coffee?” He found the question falling out before he could think, just looking for any way to keep her near.

“Think I come here for the stunning vistas?” She scoffed, nodding her head to the general grime of the place.

“You wanna have a coffee with me, I mean?” He shifted in the booth awkwardly, trying anything to relieve some of the pent-up energy as she seemed to examine him with those stark gray eyes. Her face changed and a kind-looking smile formed before she shuffled into the seat opposite him.

“Depends, gonna sweeten the deal for me?” Kindness could only last so long on her, it seemed, and she was already a sly tigress resting her head in one hand and using the other to trace distracting lines between them on the tabletop. He kept his gaze on the patterns, trying to stop himself from reading too much into her flirts. Learn the lesson already, Ward, she’s playing you.

“What do you want?” He hoped his tone sounded even and not overly eager. She chuckled at him, seeming to revel in his stiff demeanor.

“What do you got?” Her foot found his leg under the table and she tapped on his shin, broadening her smile into that familiar, painfully beautiful grin when he made eye contact, “C’mon, Riv, where’s your fighting spirit?”

“Riv?” He caught himself smiling, unsure if he enjoyed the closeness of the nickname or missed the way she said ‘Rivurr’ more.

“Vaya, I’m not allowed to give you a nickname? Are you trying to tell me I don’t warrant a nickname in your mind?” The grin was fixed in place, forcing his own smile to widen even though his heart was pounding somewhere between anxiety and exhilaration under her questioning. She was extracting the truth from him with that mouth and she wasn’t even trying.

“Actually, I do have a nickname for you,” His face felt hot and he took a long, slow swig of his coffee to cover it up as much as possible. The way her eyes widened and sparkled almost had him wishing he could go back in time and keep his mouth shut.

“You found a way to make ‘V’ shorter? Oh my god, okay, tell me,” She beamed.

The stars aligned for River, it seemed, as the same waitress who’d initially served him returned to the table at precisely that moment, stylus and tablet in hand.

“Are you ready to order, officer, or can I get you some more coffee?” Her peppy voice and perky smile pushed away all other avenues of conversation for their table and River could have kissed her for it. Instead, he gestured to V with his coffee mug.

“Could we get another coffee over here, please?” He nodded to the waitress, returning her eager smile.

“Is there anything else I can get you, officer?” Her eyes seemed to linger on his mouth for a second longer than he expected. He shook his head and turned his attention back to V as she turned away from their table.

“Have you eaten yet?” V asked, seemingly assessing him for signs of hunger from across the booth.

“Uh, no. I’m actually just killing time. I’ve got some work to do a few blocks over, but I need it to be dark, ideally,” He let out a small breath of relief that she seemed to be moving past the nickname subject, “What about you?”

“This is like, one of my favorite local spots. I usually eat here a coupla nights a week. What work you got in my neighborhood?” He was about to clam up, wondering if he should be sharing that type of information. Apparently, she could read him like a brochure because her smile became all kinds of endearing and sweet, like she wasn’t a fierce predator, “I just wanna know if it’s anything my fixer should know about, Riv, not tryna get myself involved. Especially not after how that went for me last time,” Her tone was sly and playful, but River still felt a sharp twist of guilt at the memory.

“V, look, I’m so sorry about that. I honestly never meant to leave you for so long, I didn’t wanna leave you at all, it’s just - I-I just thought it would be, I just wanted t-”

“You wanted to win one,” She held a flat palm out like a stop sign, “It’s okay, Riv, honestly. I get it, trust me. It was funny,” She shrugged, ready to move on, but River was wary of falling into another trap.

“I’m still sorry. It wasn’t professional of me and it’s not how I should treat you,” His earnestness made her smile, her eyes turning soft like they did very rarely. He relished in it.

“Not how you should treat me? If handcuffing criminals isn’t professional then I don’t know what is,” Her voice carried that same softness and River felt his chest getting warm. Before he could respond, the waitress was back with another mug and a coffee pot.

“Here ya go,” She chirped, placing the mug in front of V before topping up both mugs. V reached a hand out to lightly tap the girl’s forearm before she could walk away.

“Hey, is Lou in today?” She asked.

“Yeah, you know him?” The waitress replied. River took the opportunity to gape more openly at V while she was distracted. He watched idly as the stud below her bottom lip moved around. The gray lines of her neck held him captive as she spoke.

“He’s like family. Can you ask him to put two burgers on for V?” And then she was turning her head towards him and River tried to pretend like he wasn’t staring, “You like burgers right?” He nodded dumbly and she smiled for him so sweetly he briefly panicked that this was another trap of some kind.

“Sure thing,” The waitress nodded and hurried off to the kitchen in the back of the diner. River looked back to V and saw something between the softness she’d exhibited and the fierceness he recognised. Smugness? He decided to speak up with whatever came to mind before she could sass him in some way.

“We’re eating then?” Sure, it was about the dumbest question he could’ve asked, but it was something. Thankfully she didn’t laugh at him.

“Why not? Said it yourself you’re just killing time. Plus, what’d’you need, two-and-a-half, three-thousand calories a day to stay that big?” Her eyes roved over his torso, one eyebrow raising appreciatively. River suppressed the urge to announce how much he could bench, reminding himself that he was far too old to showboat. Instead, he just nodded, “Plus plus, because Lou loves me, you’re getting exclusive use of my hook-up for real beef burgers!”

“This place serves real beef?” River glanced at the holographic menu on the side of the napkin dispenser. Surely he would have remembered seeing real beef on the menu of a run-down local diner like this one?

“Don’t be silly,” V chided playfully, “Lou just keeps some real beef in the freezer for his favorite customers, and he’s a grumpy old man so it’s a pretty short list. I might be being optimistic asking for two. But a growing boy like you needs his protein,” 

“Thanks, V, that’s nice of you,” He felt himself smiling and tried to tamp it down, feeling stupid under her gaze.

“Hang on now, I’m not that nice. It’ll cost ya,” She sipped some coffee and squinted thoughtfully at him, he could see the upturned corners of her mouth around the mug, “What’s my nickname?”

“Ah, so you haven’t forgotten,” He cast his eyes down, feeling his face burn already.

“I have not,” She knocked a knuckle on the table, demanding his attention, “Cough it up, Riv,”

“Tigresa,” He announced with a nervous shrug.

“Tigresa?” Of course her accent made it ten times sexier. Her megawatt grin and sparkling eyes worked together to set his pulse pounding and River felt his own smile growing in response.

“Yeah, y’know, ‘cause of your optics, you speak Spanish, and then there’s your…overall demeanor,” He cleared his throat.

“My overall demeanor?” Her voice hemmed right in the edge of laughter, but her excitement was addictive and River couldn’t help but divulge more.

“Yeah. Powerful. Stealthy. Deadly,” Before he could say anything stupid like beautiful, the waitress showed up again impossibly soon, setting two plates complete with burgers and fries on the table. He had to make sure she got a generous tip for how much she’d saved his skin.

“Here we go!” She announced, turning to V, “Lou says to stop by and see Tilly and the kids next time you’re free,”

“Tell him I said sure thing. And tell him that River Ward gets real meat any time he eats here,” V nodded firmly, her words an instant law in the diner, and the waitress hurried back to the kitchen once more.

“V, you didn’t have to do that,” He started, quickly interrupted by her silencing hand.

“It’s nothing, Riv, honestly. If I wanna be ‘tigresa’ I gotta stay in your good books,” She winked at him before picking at her fries. He took a bite of the burger and barely suppressed a moan at the flavor, he was hungrier than he had thought, “You can repay me by subconning me with the NCPD and having them foot the bill,” 

“Deal,” He grinned around his mouthful before swallowing, “I could use your expertise when it comes to the hacking, actually,”

She smiled and nodded, the case closed. After a few quiet bites, he felt the lure of his mental puzzle pieces calling to him. Seemed like she was in a good mood, he could probably get away with it.

“Can I ask you a question about your Kiroshis?”

She considered him for a minute while she chewed, eyes narrowed with obvious suspicion. He felt his pulse in the side of his neck under her scrutiny and wondered if he’d overstepped some invisible line.

"Sure," Her voice was overly measured, clearly expecting trouble. Might as well take the leap.

"Why did you go for the cat eyes?"

"Oh," She let out a breath, sounding relieved, throwing some more fries back, "Thought they looked nova. Gottem to keep people away from me, make me less approachable, maybe a little more intimidating,"

He nodded, taking in her answer while he chewed more burger, before she continued. 

"Of course it totally backfired," She sounded like she was almost talking to herself, "Mostly I just get gonks hittin' on me in bars askin' if I'm a nice pussycat,"

He snorted at that, getting a smirk from her.

"What? No way,"

"Oh yeah. Either that or some similar variation. Y'know, 'can I pet the pussycat?', 'do you purr?', 'wanna gimme a tongue bath?', you get the picture," She made a half-hearted waving motion with her hand like she expected him to be familiar with any of these insane lines and took another sip of her coffee.

"You're serious?" His brows rose as he took in her unphased expression.

"Totally. I mean, no offense, but men really are trash," She chuckled, "At least when girls hit on me they don't use corny lines like that,"

"You get hit on a lot, huh?" River mused, taking a bigger bite of his burger this time.

"What's a lot?" She shrugged noncommittally, pushing the last of her fries through some sauce before finishing them off and turning to her own burger.

"You get hit on a lot," He said it as a statement this time, nodding his head authoritatively, "It tracks,"

"You sayin' I look easy or somethin'?" She scoffed a little after swallowing her first mouthful. She lifted her mug for a sip of coffee, taking a moment to look out the windows.

"The exact opposite, actually," That got her attention, her eyes snapping to his, eyebrows quirked in comical confusion that made him smile, "Gonks like that love a challenge, and the combination of a pretty face, intimidating cat eyes, and those cybernetics? I bet you're like a homing beacon for 'em,"

She chuckled quietly, her eyes flitting from his, down to her hands, and then back again. Her entire disposition seemed to change, shifting in her seat and adjusting her hair. Had he said something wrong? Was she blushing? 

"You think I'm pretty?" She beamed smugly, her eyes mischievous and playful. His dream came rushing back to him. Now it was his turn to blush. He pushed down the urge to flirt and cleared his throat, hoping it would clear his mind too. This was all just her game.

"I know my eye implant is pretty old, but I'm not blind," He stated, taking the last bite of his burger, already mourning its absence.

"Is that a yes?" She was almost singing, she was so smug. He rolled his eye. It’s just a game to her, just a game.

"Yes, okay V? You're obviously very pretty," He drolled in an 'are you happy now' tone of voice before starting to demolish his fries.

"Thank you," She took another victorious sip of coffee, "You're obviously very pretty too,"

"Me?" He snorted and looked away. Even if it was just a game, it was cute that she felt the need to return the compliment. He sipped his coffee and noticed she hadn't said anything. No banter, no laugh. He looked to find a grave expression on her face.

"Who else am I talkin' to? You don't think you're pretty?" Suddenly it felt like she was grilling him, all the jovial atmosphere they’d built gripped in a tension River didn’t understand, on the brink of potential collapse.

"Can't say I've put much thought into it, but no, why would I think I was pretty?" He was trying to tread carefully, but River was concerned that the truth wouldn’t be what she wanted to hear.

"Because you are?" She gestured vaguely to him, her face looking like he was the dumbest man alive, "You prolly get hit on more'n me, you just don't notice cos you're such a moron. No offense," She added as an afterthought, erasing the tension and making River scoff a laugh.

"Oh none taken," His voice dripped with sarcasm, "It's great bein' a pretty moron. Also I never get hit on, for your information,"

"River," V's tone was level and serious again, "You absolutely do get hit on. I have physically seen you get hit on," She leaned closer, conspiratorially, he mirrored her, "The waitress in this very establishment hit on you,"

"What? No she didn't," River briefly replayed their interactions in his mind. She did look at his mouth in a way that seemed odd, but that wasn’t flirtation, was it?

"Is there anything else I can get you, officer?" She drawled in a mocking seductive voice, "God, you really are a moron,"

"Isn't it kind of her job to ask shit like that?" River didn’t know how to feel about how okay he was with her calling him a moron.

"With that shy schoolgirl smile on?"

"Pretty sure she's paid to smile and be nice in general, yeah," He said dismissively, leaning back in the booth, feeling flushed, almost wishing the waitress would come back just so they didn’t have to keep having this conversation.

"Ask for her number then," V challenged, "If she wasn't flirting, she'll come up with an excuse, like it's against Lou’s policy or something. But she was flirting, so you'll definitely get her number,"

"She's not really my type," He shrugged, wanting this game to end so his face could cool off already.

"She's cute," V eyed the waitress somewhere over River’s shoulder, eyebrows raised like she didn't believe him.

"I don't really go for cute,"

"No?" She looked to him, "What do you go for?"

He panicked for a moment, then felt suddenly overcome with steely reserve. Fuck it. Time to play her game.

"Pretty and intimidating," He held her eye contact through sheer force of will alone, ignoring everything in him that told him to apologize and curl up into a ball in the booth.

"Oh," A dark blush covered her cheeks and her eyes fell to her hands resting on the tabletop. When she didn't say anything else, he couldn't hold up his bravado any longer. He had to fill the silence. If this is what winning the game felt like, he wasn’t sure he could handle it.

"I'm not gonk enough to use corny lines, though. And I'm definitely not gonk enough to hit on mercs I'm subconning for the NCPD,"

"Right," She spoke quietly, before her usual playful demeanor returned, "And here I thought you were a moron,"

"Not that much of a moron," He smiled with relief that he’d survived taking such a dangerous leap. No knifepoint at his throat, no hacking, just burgers and fries.

"Good to know," She finished the last of her coffee, smiling at him easily. Something had changed though, some distant wall seemed to come up, buried in the depths of those vertical feline pupils. River didn’t want to address it, too scared to poke the tigress after making it this far, resorting instead to finishing his fries and his coffee in companionable silence.

"So, should we hit the road?” V prompted after a while, “Getting dark enough now,"

"Uh, yeah, yeah sounds good," River awkwardly shifted in the booth to stand up without hitting his knees or jostling the table too much. He tipped the waitress and noticed the way her hand lingered near his as he handed her the eddies. Shit, was she flirting? He brushed it off, holding the door for V and moving past her to lead her to where Mack was parked in the lot. She followed him at a further distance than he'd grown accustomed to. He probably should have kept his gonk mouth shut. Maybe he was a moron.

When Mack’s rear window was in sight, River remembered what he’d thrown in the back seat two days ago, ready for the next time he ran into her. His heart started pounding, not prepared to do this right now, but well aware that there was no way around it. He walked to the passenger side door and opened it, offering his hand out to her as she approached.

“I uh, have a present for you on the back seat actually. Just a thank you for helping with that arrest last week. And a sorry for leaving you stranded kind of thing,” He practically coughed out, helping her up into the truck and shutting the door. He ignored the quizzical face she gave him and walked around to the driver’s side, already embarrassed. This was a mistake. She was going to hate it. He readied his throat for the inevitable knifepoint.

V sat in the passenger’s seat and twisted around to look at the back seat. A pastel pink tiger plushie took up most of the bench, looking back at her with beady black eyes and a big pink nose. Her jaw fell open, her insides churning so powerfully she thought she might bring the burger back up, and Johnny glitched in next to the damn thing, his legs tucked up in front of him to fit in the tight space.

‘Holy shit,’ He muttered, ‘Has this guy seen your apartment? How the fuck does he know you love this pink plush girly shit?’

She said nothing, still staring into the void-like eyes on the plushie, falling in love with it. She heard River climb in the car and felt the shift of his weight, but she couldn’t hear anything over her heartbeat thumping in her eardrums.

‘First that line in the diner, now this?’ Johnny was still reeling, ‘He’s got your fuckin’ number, V,’

‘Shut up, Johnny,’ V thought it as naturally as breathing, basically a reflex response at this point in their fucked up union. She reached out and grabbed the tiger, pulling it into her lap and turning back to the front of the truck. The plushie was soft, overstuffed to the point of being perfectly squishy, and as big as her torso. After a few seconds of awestruck adoration, she turned to look at River. His face was sheepish and his jaw looked excruciatingly tight.

“You bought me a pink plushie of a tiger?” She spoke slowly, her face giving nothing away as she continued to process the moment. When was the last time anyone had bought her anything? Let alone something this perfect.

“Uh, yeah. I don’t know, I saw it and I just thought you might like it for some reason. Y’know, a tiger for la tigresa, or something like that. But it’s fine if you don’t like it, I don’t know why I thought you’d like it, I-”

“I love it,” She breathed, turning back to the plushie and stroking its big, soft head, “Fornido,” She murmured to herself. River’s translator picked up on it, [Chunky]. He let out a relieved chuckle.

“Fornido? That his name?” River scoffed.

“Chunky name for a chunky boy,” She nodded, adding as an afterthought, “If you think that’s ridiculous, you should hear the name I gave my car,”

“Hang on, hang on, you named your ride? Is this because of what I said?” A grin spread across the detective’s face and V was floating on the feeling she got looking at his crow’s feet.

“Don’t get too excited, detective. I may have been influenced by you to a tiny degree,”

“C’mon, don’t leave me hanging, what’s it called?” He was turned in the driver’s seat, giving her his undivided attention. It was overwhelming to receive and V turned to face Fornido instead.

“I don’t know if I should tell you. I mean, you did leave me stranded and all alone on that rooftop,” Her sly smile would have been enough to give her teasing away even if she wasn’t burning up from his proximity. River let out a huff somewhere between a laugh and a sigh.

“Ridiculous,” V could hear his smile without raising her head, “C’mon V, give it up,” His tone turned no-nonsense, and V turned to see a small smile still lingered, his eye was still soft, he was teasing right back.

One of his arms rested on the wheel while the other was up around the headrest of his seat. God, he looked fantastic, broad and spread and inviting. The way he confidently took up space and talked with easy authority had her melting. V answered him, distantly aware that she physically couldn’t disobey that specific tone, idly thumbing one of Fornido’s furry ears for strength.

“Bella Blanca,” 

“Bella Blanca?”

“Bella Blanca,” She repeated, louder and more confident. It was a good fucking name. From the backseat, Johnny joined in.

‘Everybody! Bella Blanca!’ He leaned slightly closer to V’s seat ‘V, what the fuck are we doin’ here? You got your cheesy line, you got your fuckin’ cuddly toy, let’s go do something fun.’

“That’s a great name,” River’s smile grew again and V felt her grip on Fornido’s ear tighten at the sight of those wrinkles, “So, when I think about Bella Blanca, what kind of ride should I be picturing?”

“Oh no, you’re not finding out that easy,” V shifted in her seat, sitting up straight, shaking her hair over her shoulder, fully stepping into the role of la tigresa. She lifted one shoulder a little and looked at River over it, coy and coquettish, “When you think about Bella Blanca, the only kind of ride you should be picturing is me, detective. Now, let’s get hacking, I have an NCPD subcorn to earn,”

She turned to look out the front window, sitting back in the seat and hauling Fornido up to cross her arms comfortably over the plushie stuffing. River followed suit, moving in his seat to buckle the belt and throwing Mack into reverse to head out of the lot. He didn’t say anything, he couldn’t trust that anything logical would come out of his mouth right now. The only kind of ride you should be picturing is me, detective. Did she mean that the way he thought she did? Was there any other way to mean that? Shit, this game of hers was a logistical nightmare. River decided it was best he just shut up and focus on the driving.

Mack crawled through Watson’s back streets, juddering to a stop at an opening just a block down from the NAV points in the casefile. River cut the engine, staying within the confines of the sidestreet in hopes of evading any cams or tripwires that could set off Maelstrom defenses. He turned slightly towards V, smiling to himself at how closely she held the plushie, absent-mindedly stroking its fur.

“So, the gangers should be holed up in the apartments above that grocery store on the corner,” He gestured with a nod to the end of the block, “The report says they’ve been trying to create some kind of replicant drug? Like a synthetic copy of something else currently circulating,”

“Any idea what?” V posed, activating her scanner. Just out of range, “Glitter’s always a popular choice, but it’s not like Maelstrom to start stepping on the Tyger’s gig,”

“Hm,” River seemed to agree, “It’s not glitter from what I can tell in the reports. Seems to be something new,”

“A new drug in Night City? Just what we need,” V huffed. Something just below the surface of her skin started to shift and itch. What if it was something she’d never had before? What if it was something she’d had lots of times? What if it started taking off? Could she say no if it was at the Afterlife? Only one real question worth pursuing right now, “So, how do we get rid of it?”

“Well, I’m hoping that hacking into their comms can tell us where they got this bright idea from, as well as what it is they’re replicating. It’s not glitter, but my money’s still on Tyger Claw creation of some kind. There’s not an illicit substance in this city that doesn’t have a trace of Tyger in it somehow,”

“Okay, so, I can slip in the back, hack their messages, copy what I find over to a shard, and be back in like, ten minutes?” V turned to see the detective already looking at her, something akin to a wistful smile on his face, “What?”

“Nothing,” He shrugged, still smiling, “It’s just nice to feel like we’re on the same team for once, don’t you think?”

“I’m not on the NCPD’s team before you get too excited, just looking for a paycheck. And hey, if it involves getting some shitty counterfeit drugs out of town, then that’s a win-win,” V shrugged.

“Not the NCPD’s team,” River shook his head, growing quiet with that same soft expression that left V listless, “Just mine,”

Just mine.

She could feel Johnny pulling at her guts, urging her to leave.

“I-I’ll be right back then,” Before she could open the door, River reached out to her, holding her forearm with a cold, chrome hand.

“You gonna be alright on your own in there? Anything I can do to help?” God, why was his smile so fucking friendly? V flicked a sheaf of hair away from her face, slapping on an overly confident smirk.

“Yeah, you can hold this,” She thrust Fornido into River’s hand and slipped out of the truck in one smooth movement, disappearing down the street and into the crowd like a specter. 

River wanted to watch her go, keep tabs on her if he could, but it was impossible. One blink after she shut the truck door she was just a shadow, one blink after that and she was invisible. All he could do was wait. 

True to her word, V was climbing back into the passenger seat barely more than twelve minutes after her initial departure. She sat back in the seat with a huff and reached a hand out towards him. At first, River did nothing, thinking maybe she wanted to hold his hand. Were they at that point? Was that a point people got to? Before he could slip into a tailspin, she looked over at his dumbstruck face and reached out further to take the tiger plushie from his lap. Oh.

“So,” He cleared his throat, “What’s the situation in there?”

“Well, it’s the worst fucking drug kitchen you’ve ever seen for starters,” V seemed to mostly speak to the plushie, stroking its head in favor of looking at River, “So messy and disorganized. Looks like they’re getting the inside scoop from some Claw called Haru, though. He’s paying them to try recreate some new party drug he’s been sampling, not named it in the comms, but I stole a coupla vials from one of their little chemistry sets so, that’s something,”

“You learned all that and managed to klep samples in ten minutes? And you weren’t spotted?”

“It’s like I’m a professional or something, huh,” V turned to him then, smiling in an easy way that flooded River’s chest with warmth.

“Gotta say, I’m impressed. Knew you were la tigresa for something,” He smirked. V turned back to the plushie resting on her knees. Her smile faded a little and River watched her fingers slowly press harder into the overstuffed body of the tiger. She squeezed it closer to her, resting one cheek on top of its head and looking out the window on her side, facing away from him. 

River felt a sudden lurch of jealousy in his gut. He wished he could be the one receiving her affection. He could provide comfort in some way, probably not in the same harmless, easy way of a stuffed animal, but wouldn’t he be good at holding her? Good at stroking her hair the way she stroked the pink fur of the plushie? Wouldn’t he be good at being so quiet, if that’s what she seemed to want? Couldn’t he be so good for her?

“So, listen,” V lifted her head to look at him again, her tone somewhere near a serious hesitance. A brief panic overcame River before he mentally confirmed that he hadn’t said any of those thoughts out loud, “I’d like to tell my fixer about this. Regina Jones? You might know her, she’s ex-media, used to report on the NCPD sometimes,”

“I’ve heard of her, but never met her,”

“She’s great. Practical, informed, fair. I want to bring her a sample, tell her what’s going on here. This is her backyard, and mine, she should know about it. Hell, she might already know about it. She could definitely help, if you wanna meet with her?” She looked at him with her sparkling eyes big and soft, nibbling slightly on her bottom lip. River noticed her solid hold on the tiger’s ears; she was nervous, maybe worried about how he’d react to the proposition. This shy, sweet version of V was something he’d never anticipated from the way she’d sauntered through his life so effortlessly, commanding his attention with a flick of her hair and a flex of her shoulders. Not so much la tigresa, more like a kitten. Gatita, he thought briefly. She’d kill him if he let that one slip, “River?”

“You’d arrange that for an NCPD case?”

“Of course not,” She snorted, the sweet gatita slipping for just a second before returning tenfold to gaze up at him, her pupils rounded and soft in the low light, “Just for you,”

Fuck, this was almost worse than her grin. He was certain he’d agree to anything those wide eyes asked for. How was he supposed to make sure she never found that out? 

“Sounds good. Sounds…perfect.” He watched her squeeze the tiger plushie and felt that same jealousy surge through him.

“Perfect,” She beamed, her eyes briefly flashing blue, “Head to this NAV point while I hit her up and make sure she’s home.”

Mack kicked into action with a guttural thrumming as River pulled out of the side street and V fished out her agent to message Regina. Regina would know what to do. Regina would tell her it was something made up by the Claws. It probably had nothing to do with Dean’s crew. Regina would know.

She kept one hand on Fornido, clutching him to keep herself from shaking, the weight of the vials in her pocket almost unbearable. She didn’t want them, she didn’t need them, she wasn’t even sure what they were. River’s presence, solid and steady as a boulder, kept her grounded. She couldn’t exactly sneak a sample with him right there. He couldn’t know she was so weak.

You don’t want drugs. You don’t need drugs to be happy. You are better than you have ever been. You are better than you have ever been. You are better than you have ever been. 

Chapter Text

“This is impressive work, Ward.” Regina Jones stood in her apartment-come-office, holding a vial under the downlights of her kitchen cupboards, swirling the fluid around and watching it coat the container walls. River remained a respectful distance away. He’d never met Regina Jones before V had pushed them together about ten minutes ago - right before she smiled and waved, staying outside to take a call. The fixer didn’t seem like the type of woman who wanted to be crowded. 

“V did all the legwork,” he shrugged, “I just did the research.”

“It’s good research.” She spoke with the kind of certainty that River found inspiring. Captain Faulk could use some of that attitude. The detective scratched at his jaw, suddenly feeling a little nervous as he watched Regina scroll through his notes. Maybe it was a good thing Faulk wasn’t this assertive. Then again, maybe if he was, he’d have gotten to the bottom of this damn IA investigation by now. “How was it, working with V?”

The fixer’s question caught him off guard and he had to stop himself from letting something stupid slip. His experiences ‘working’ with V, if that’s even what you’d call it, had been nothing short of life-changing. When he wasn’t with her, he was thinking about her, over and over like a record he couldn’t stop spinning. He couldn’t remember ever being this interested in anyone or anything before.

“Uh, it was interesting. She’s clearly talented,” he mumbled, hoping that was sufficient for the woman. V’s muffled laughter down the phone filtered through the walls and River wanted to smile at the sound.

“Yeah,” she smirked, “Talented indeed. That girl could klep a cane from a blind guy and have him say ‘thank you’. Not that she would…I imagine.”

Regina chuckled to herself at the suggestion, maneuvering around piles of computer parts to grab a datashard here and pass it to some desk lackey there, muttering instructions River couldn’t make out from his post by the door.

“I don’t usually work with cops these days,” Regina announced to the room, passing the vial to another underling and gesturing towards a lab near the back of the apartment. River watched as the young man in question took the vial and faithfully shuffled around the general debris to start whatever tests it was counterfeit drugs needed.

“V said as much.” River nodded, clasping his hands in front of him like he used to in his patrol days. Even with the technological detritus littering the space, Regina Jones had a commanding aura that brought out the rookie that apparently still lingered somewhere in him. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from calling her ‘ma’am’. V would probably laugh at him for it. He smiled to himself at the idea, stopping short when he refocused and saw Jones staring him down with her one good eye. 

“I hope she also said that I’m serious about maintaining some law and order in my district, even if it does mean teaming up with the NCPD again.”

“She said you cared a lot about Watson and the people here,” he confirmed, “But I have to say, Ms Jones, I’m not exactly representing the NCPD with this case. I mean, yes it came from their files, but I’m branching out on my own a little here, I won’t lie.”

“That’s not a problem,” she smirked, “In fact, I think the only problem we have right now is ‘Ms Jones’. Absolutely not. Just ‘Regina’ is fine, detective.” He nodded again, convinced that if he spoke he’d say ‘yes ma’am’ and the process would start over. “How’d you and V become…acquainted? She worm her way out of some trouble with you or something?”

“Well,” A brief slideshow of V blushing at him over the table at Fantaji, stuck under his boot and then against the wall outside Red Queen’s Race, grinning at him before the night was over, touching his ribs at the burnt out warehouse, wrapping her legs around him on that rooftop, “I wouldn’t say trouble. We both got hired to work the same job and just kind of…kept running into each other since.”

“Mhm,” Regina gave him that calculating look she had done frequently in the short time he’d been here, enough that River wasn’t sure if that was just her resting expression. “I’m sure you don’t mind having a contact like her on your holo. And I’m very sure she doesn’t mind having a contact like you.”

River felt his face turn quizzical, about to ask what the fixer meant by that. She could read minds, apparently, holding up a hand and leaving him opening and closing his mouth like an idiot.

“You know how many mercs would kill to have a cop on their contacts? Someone to bail you out whenever you’re in trouble, give you the inside scoop on hot cases, hell, maybe even provide some new ‘equipment’ when it’s needed.” She shrugged, gesturing with one hand like she was laying out a scene between the two of them.

“V hasn’t asked for anything like that.” River was almost defensive, trying not to sound like he cared too much either way. “We’ve just helped each other out with info a few times, nothing too inappropriate.”

“For now,” Regina chuckled, “I’m sure she’ll find her moment. You’ve said it yourself, she’s talented. She’ll strike when she needs it most. As far as this job’s concerned, I sent a merc out to another drug kitchen recently, maybe a month ago at most? It sounds similar to what you’ve brought, but he couldn’t retrieve any samples.”

“Could I get this merc’s name?” River posed optimistically. “Maybe we could meet up and exchange information? See if there’s any significant common ground?”

“Sure, name’s Mike Kowalski,” Regina replied, adding, “Ask V about him. They’re uh, acquainted.”

Before River could respond, the door beside him burst open, V swinging into the room gleefully. Her hair swayed around as she looked between the detective and the fixer and River tried to keep his inhaling subtle. Her hair smelled comfortingly like coconut, and there was a hint of something else, maybe peach? Delicious.

She stood for a moment, assessing the vibes in the room, before she snickered and piped up.

“Hey check this out, did I miss the inaugural meeting of the Night City Cyclops Club?” She gestured between River’s optic implant and Regina’s patch, her mouth a wobbly line desperate to break into another laugh. River felt his guts clench, waiting for Regina to discipline the wisecrack with something authoritative and crushing.

“That’s rich, coming from you,” Regina laughed, “At least between us we got one pair of ‘ganic eyes. Whaddya call those feline fuckin’ peepers?”

The women laughed together while River looked on, entirely too confused and intimidated to so much as crack a smile. How is it possible that he wasn’t allowed to call Regina ‘Ms. Jones’ without getting flack for it, but V got away with that? Maybe her charms extended far beyond the effect she had on him. Maybe she disarmed everyone with that big, bright grin.

“Touché,” V snickered, turning her attention to focus on the detective, “You done here? I could use a ride home if you’ve got time?”

“Sure, I’ll be right down after you,” River replied, gently ushering her out the door with a hand on her back before turning to Regina once more.

“Something else I can help you with, Ward?” The look on Regina’s face gave little away, but it left River with an uneasy, exposed feeling all the same.

“Just wanted to thank you again for all your help, Regina.” They shared entirely too-professional nods and River headed out of the apartment. He met V waiting for the elevator. She turned to him and smiled broadly as he came to a stop beside her. The raw, unearthed feeling he got from Regina was still lingering in his chest and it must have shown on his face.

“What’s up?” V asked, her smile closing into something like a pout and her eyebrows raising with concern. River wanted to touch his thumb to the stud beneath her bottom lip for some kind of comfort. Maybe the stripped-back sensation would go away if he could hold her for a minute or two. The ding of the elevator doors opening pulled their eyes away from one another long enough for them to get on and choose the ground floor. Reluctantly, River glanced over to see V still looking to him for some kind of response.

“Just, uh, just something Regina said,” he muttered.

“Oh, don’t listen to her,” V patted his arm lightly, her smile returning, “She says scary shit all the time, she’s probably just fucking with you.”

“Right,” he managed a half-hearted smile back at her, letting her energy take over the moment. She started talking about how she first met Regina, but River’s mind kept drifting. Mike Kowalski. A merc that V was ‘acquainted’ with, as Regina put it. What did that mean? It didn’t take a detective as good as River liked to believe he was to figure out at least a few possibilities. But how well acquainted were they? Did Mike Kowalski know la tigresa better than him?

He decided not to dwell on it right now. He had a whole car journey, however short, to enjoy spending time with V. Mike Kowalski could wait for another day. For now, he just opened Mack’s passenger door, allowing himself just one glance at V’s ass as she climbed in. What about that picture she’d sent him the other day on the roof? Not now, he told himself. That particular puzzle piece could not occupy his mind right now.

V was still talking by the time he’d climbed into the driver’s side. River took a moment to recenter himself in the present. She was smiling, laughing occasionally, holding Fornido on her lap and thumbing one of his ears idly. Her mood was a total 180 from the nervous wreck she’d seemed to be before they got to Regina’s place. She had been laughing on the phone. Maybe that’s what cheered her up. Maybe she was talking to Mike Kowalski.

“Who did you talk to while I was with Regina?” The question had climbed out of his mouth before he even noticed. He saw her face shift the slightest amount. Couldn’t exactly blame her, why was he asking such a personal question anyway? With absolutely no tact, to boot. She’d probably just brush him off.

“One of my friends in the Badlands.” Although her expression had changed, her smile stayed bright, and she seemed happy to elaborate. “Think I’m headed out her way sometime soon, gonna hang with the Aldecaldos and soak up some sun.”

“You’ve got a contact in the Aldecaldos?” River was simultaneously grateful he managed to avoid upsetting her and relieved to hear it was a woman on the phone. Both emotions gave him the feeling he was being stupid again, somehow.

“I’ve got contacts everywhere, detective,” V smiled slyly before reaching forward to turn on the radio. She turned to the Principales station and cranked the volume, their conversation seemingly over. River’s mind drifted back to Regina’s words, she’ll strike when she needs it most. He’d already proven himself capable of falling into her traps over and over again. Was this time they’d been spending together just another elaborate setup? 

River spent the drive half-enjoying the relaxed way V nodded her head and tapped on her knees in time to the music. The rest of him, however, grew increasingly anxious, absently replaying every time he’d ever read or heard someone use the word ‘acquainted’. Would he be able to tell if he was being used by someone as crafty as her? Would he be able to save himself if it meant losing whatever they had going now? Suddenly it seemed all too easy to not think about Mike Kowalski.

Three days after taking River to meet Regina Jones, V was pacing her apartment, a dress hanging from her hands as she fiddled with the zip and muttered in Spanish under her breath. Johnny materialized at the edge of her field of vision, but she seemed to do her best to ignore him.

‘V,’ he prompted, receiving no response. He didn’t understand why she ignored him like this, like he might go away if she could just wait it out. Maybe that’s what she was hoping would happen. He couldn’t exactly blame her, but he also didn’t ask to be here, so she’d have to fucking cope with it like every other fucker in this city without a perfect life. ‘V, if you don’t answer me I’m gonna start probing around in here looking for something fun to do.’

“Shut up, can’t you see I’m busy breaking a dress over here?” She didn’t look up, too embroiled in dragging the zipper back and forth like some enraged tweaker zombie. Not one to make idle threats, Johnny started peering into their shared consciousness. 

On a couple of occasions, V had told him she’d experienced some of his memories. Fucking Alt after a show, pointing a gun at the crowd on an especially wild night, catching Kerry with some nameless groupie. Johnny told her he’d seen some of her memories too, the heist at Konpeki, seeing Jackie go, shit like that. 

What he failed to mention was that he’d seen some other stuff too. Most of it was funny, like her trying to make a move on the ripperdoc just to have him put her down like a pathetic stray, or the time she and Misty did karaoke whilst too shit-faced to read, realizing only after the fact that they’d chosen a Japanese song.

There were other memories though. Flashes of her time in Atlanta. And before that. He saw it all like the bizarre third-party observer he was to her life now. While she got to live his memories, feel his feelings, fuck, even experience fucking with his cock, he was stuck with this out-of-body shit. As if he’d summoned them with his thoughts, the memories started forming in front of him like some sick theater play.

V, looking fresh-faced and hungry, sat on the kerbside. She can’t have been much older than sixteen. Johnny watched her nervously eyeing her reflection in a pocket mirror, making micro-adjustments to her hair that he supposed were meant to make a difference. She looked like any other self-conscious kid, maybe a little rougher around the edges. There was something charming about her scuffed up sneakers and torn jeans. Reminded him a little of his own rebellious youth. 

A car pulled up in front of where she sat. Some low-rider hunk of junk, spoiler on the back and an exhaust coughing out CHOOH. Pretty typical for this part of town, Johnny thought. The window rolled down and some generic metal trash filled the air. The riffs were okay, but they were buried so far beneath the drums and screaming that it all just became a wall of sound, no soul in there. Johnny’s analysis ended abruptly when the radio cut out, replaced by the juddering of the car’s idling engine. He watched a heavily-tattooed arm hang out the window as a man leaned his head out towards V.

“Hey, there she is.” The guy smiled at her. Johnny crouched to get a good look at him. The guy had to be twenty-four, maybe twenty-five. Right in the sweet spot to be some kind of trouble for a kid like V. Sure enough, one glance at her was enough to show she was practically giddy from the attention.

“Hey yourself,” she replied coyly. There was some level of familiarity here that Johnny couldn’t wrap his head around, but he didn’t like it. Although he couldn’t relive V’s memories like they were his own, he could feel some semblance of her emotions here. The pit in his stomach surely wasn’t just coming from him. He watched as V stood up, picking up her backpack - the kid had a fucking backpack for chrissakes - and walked around to the passenger side. She flopped in, throwing her bag to the back seat, and Johnny’s perspective flickered to the seat next to it just in time to see her smile nervously at the asshole in the driver’s seat.

“You hungry?” The guy said, reaching a hand out to hold the back of her neck.

“Sure,” she replied. Johnny felt some weird mixture of her sweet-sixteen butterflies and what must have been retrospective regret and anxiety. She looked positively bashful. Seeing her with her original brown eyes, he couldn’t help but think she seemed cute. Young. Naive. The driver chuckled at her, bringing both hands back to the wheel and pulling away from the curb.

“You don’t need to act for me, Tina, I know you’re always hungry. Let’s grab a bite, hm? Where’d you wanna go? Pick a place, world’s your oyster, I’ll take you anywhere you want.” He smiled warmly at her and Johnny felt the butterflies taking over in his gut. He’d have to ask her about this ‘Tina’ shit at some point.

“Uhh, how about…Red’s? You know, that place by the pier? I like their pizzas.” She sounded so uncertain and her voice was so much softer than he’d ever heard it. On closer inspection, Johnny noticed the familiar gray cyberware lining her throat was absent. It must have changed her voice when she had it installed. 

“Red’s pizza it is!” The guy cheered, patting her on the knee while his other hand navigated the winding corners of Arroyo. “You can have whatever you want, you know? It’s my treat, don’t worry about the eddies, Tina. I just wanna make sure you’re eating.”

“I really do like the pizzas at Red’s,” V nodded, her smile a fraction more confident now she’d had time to relax. 

“Alright, so long as you’re sure. Can’t have you wastin’ away now, can we?” The guy looked over at her and winked, his hand still resting on her knee. 

The memory seemed to lurch forward like a dream, and the next thing Johnny knew, V and this guy were sitting across from each other in a booth at one of Night City’s greasier diners. Two pizzas sat on the table between them, her’s mostly eaten while his only had a few slices missing. Johnny took a seat next to V, as if his presence beside her could protect her from something he didn’t know anything about. Still, it gave him some kind of comfort to know he was with her.

“You really were hungry, huh?” The guy chuckled. V suddenly stopped mid-chew, Johnny felt her surge with self-consciousness. “Hey, don’t worry about it. Please, keep eating. I wanna know you’re looked after. Not enough people looking out for you, Tina. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, okay? Whatever you need, I’ve got your back.”

“I know,” V smiled, swallowing her mouthful and wiping her mouth on a napkin, “Thanks, Dean. I really appreciate it.” 

Dean.

V had mentioned Dean a few times, mostly in passing or in a thought she was trying to keep to herself. He’d seen Dean in some of her dreams before, but usually as more of a vaguely featureless blur. It was like she’d tried to block his face, even in her sleep. Johnny had thought the guy must have been a real monster, or at the very least hideous. What he didn’t expect was this. Just, some guy. Not hideous, not monstrous, just some guy willing to pay the least bit of attention to her.

The memory hopped forward again and now they were all back in Dean’s car. Seemed like he was taking V home, wherever the hell she must have been living when she was sixteen. V tapped her knees to the drums blaring on Dean’s car stereo. Sounded like trash to Johnny’s ears, but V had clearly heard these tracks before, keeping up with the cymbals and repetitive basslines with ease. Johnny sat back and watched for a few minutes. 

He couldn’t resist noticing that V looked so…happy. Her eyes were shining, her cheeks looked round and full, that giant smile he’d seen her flash a few times was somehow bigger and brighter. There was so much life in her that Johnny was sure he hadn’t seen before. Syncing with her emotions, he felt light and bubbly, like his blood had been replaced with champagne. Christ, she was the typical giddy schoolgirl right now.

Dean chuckled to himself, glancing over to V every now and then. Johnny felt his cheeks heating up with her embarrassment.

“What?” V smiled, her rhythmic tapping coming to a halt.

“Nothing, it’s just.” Dean seemed to pause to think for a moment, looking at her with an expression that made V’s heart flutter. Dean reached a hand out to delicately touch V’s chin, “They don’t make ‘em like you anymore.”

The surge of emotions Johnny was hit with was so powerful it smacked him straight out of the memory. Felt like somebody had slammed on the brakes and thrown him through the windscreen. His chest tightened, his legs gave out under him, and when he opened his eyes he was kneeling on the fluffy white rug in V’s apartment. He could see her feet, contorted in what looked like painfully high heels. The pointed red lacquer toes faced him like daggers or arrowheads, making something inside him squirm with a panicky guilt. 

“What the hell were you doing?” It was always a bad sign when she spoke out loud to him. It was never ‘good idea, Johnny’ or ‘thanks, Johnny’. It was always that he was in trouble somehow. He dared to look up at her and saw she’d finally put on the dress she’d been messing with. A simple black number that clung pretty close all over and ended just above her knees. He stood up with a sigh, forgetting that he could just glitch his way to a standing position whenever he wanted.

‘Told you I was gonna look for something fun to do, Tina.’ Johnny sometimes wondered why he could never seem to just be nice about shit like this. Still, the rage on her face was feeling like a pretty powerful deterrent for his usual shithousery. She took a step and was so close he could see her pupils bowing in the dim lighting she always preferred, could see how he wasn’t reflected in them. Another painful reminder that he wasn’t here. Not really.

“Don’t ever say that name to me again.” 

‘What’s that about anyway? How does ‘V’ become ‘Tina’?’ Why could he never leave well enough alone? He watched her turn and stride away from him, exposing the busted zipper on the back of her dress. The shoulders of the dress were open to the very tops of her arms, revealing most of the top half of her back before the two sides of the zipper met in some kind of twisted harmony. 

He assumed she was going to ignore him, headed to the bathroom drawer where he knew she kept the blocker pills. Sure enough, she took the bottle out, unscrewed the lid, and tipped a couple of pills into her palm. Before he could say anything else or even appear a little closer to her, she turned to face him again. Her eyes were shining.

“My name is Valentina.” Her voice wobbled as she spoke and Johnny got the distinct feeling that he’d been an asshole. Again. She tossed the pills back and swallowed. Guilt washed down Johnny’s throat before he disappeared.

River had schlepped up his apartment building’s dingy stairs, locked his gun away, and showered in a dark mood. Another meeting with Faulk had spelled his final warning. It was time to show his commitment to the force, or face suspension at the least. Apparently, the work he’d been doing since reporting to IA wasn’t enough to convince the higher ups that he wasn’t a troublemaker. Cases were too old or small-time, and he hadn’t mentioned his latest explorations into this new designer drug. 

He knew it would probably have been enough to get Faulk and the rest off his back, but it didn’t sit right with him. A new drug making its way so comfortably into the city without a hitch from the law? No way the NCPD wasn’t profiting in some way. Before he knew more, it wasn’t worth the risk of highlighting. 

He’d have to look for other opportunities to show his loyalty. Maybe he could coach more boxing classes for the rookies like he used to do, or be more present for the junior cops’ cases. Jiminez would probably appreciate his presence and support. He knew she wanted to be a detective eventually, plus the fact that she’d been the one to tell him about Péter Horváth gave him some faith in her own character.

For now, he just needed to stop thinking so much. Story of his life. He flopped onto his couch heavily, leaning back and stretching his arms out over the back. He managed maybe one or two seconds of mental quiet before he felt bored. His leg started tapping absently and he rubbed his chrome hand across the back of his head to assess the state of his hair. Probably needed to shave again soon, the gentle tink of short hairs hitting the metal instantly annoying him.

Huffing out a breath, he sat forward and flicked on the TV. Every channel was uninteresting or depressing, without much in-between. Watson Whore’s season finale was on, would probably be the talk of the bull pen tomorrow. He left it on, flicking through a magazine on his coffee table and pretending not to care about the twists and turns unfolding before him.

A ping from his holo was like an angelsong, finally something he could occupy himself with, hopefully something interesting. He reached out for it on the end table, his relief returning to irritation more or less immediately.

He wondered if he’d have a reason to stop sighing tonight. He and his sister always talked to each other like this. Stilted. Broken. Even when things were good, they were always short with one another. He never really understood why, but she was his big sister, so he just followed her lead. At least they understood each other, even with their unusual communication methods. When she responded like this, he knew what she was actually asking. He never made her actually ask.

He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, fighting a headache from brewing. Thank you. Would that be so hard for her to say? She did so much for him when they were growing up. So much to keep them together through the unforgiving system of orphanages and foster homes. He always wanted to pay her back. He became a cop to pay her back, to be able to help her and protect them both. It was well past his turn by the time he was eighteen. She was twenty-one and already dating that scumbag she’d end up marrying. He tried to use his job to guide her, just like she’d been able to guide him when they were young. 

All the shit he went through to help her and she never once said thank you. Not when he found Randy any of the other times he’d found him. Not when brought Dorian home after that asshole had taken the kid out to a bar, for fuck’s sake. Not even when he’d caught the guy laying into her and pulled him off. Sure he broke her husband’s jaw, hadn’t meant to, but he had. But he’d also stopped her husband from beating her with her kids in the next fucking room. And she didn’t say thank you. She got mad.

He felt his blood pressure spike when he heard the ping of his holo again. Opening his eyes, he glanced at it, expecting it to be Joss with something else frustrating. It was V. He shifted forward on the couch until he was perched right on the edge, as though he might need to jump to his feet at any moment. Any sign of an oncoming headache was gone and his blood pressure was probably all over the place if the palpitations in his chest were any indicator. He took a few breaths before opening the message.

Thank god, something to do. And something he could do for V of all people. He was already up and pacing, grabbing his coat and shucking it on with one hand while the other worked on replying to her.

He looked to his gun safe, wondering what kind of help she needed. He could take some extra ammo if he needed it. Maybe even pull out his old stab vest from the back of his closet if it was gonna be that kind of night.

He stalled, coat mid-way up his arms. What the hell was going on? Sure, she’d made suggestive comments to him before, and he’d definitely imagined getting messages like this from her more times than he could count at this point. Still, he felt nervous about it. He tried not to let his thoughts get ahead of him. Already, he had a picture of her in his mind, dressed to the nines and here to ask him out for a drink. At this point, maybe she wouldn’t even do that, maybe she’d skip straight to asking to come up to his apartment.

River would never admit it to anyone who asked, but he pulled his coat the rest of the way up and then did a mad dash around his apartment, collecting any trash and quickly wiping over every surface, just in case. He poked his head through his bedroom door on the way out of the apartment. Bed made, sheets clean. Just in case.

Taking the stairs two at a time, the detective was in the streets and already scanning for V in all directions. Crescent and Broad was his block, she had to be somewhere close. It was dark, the streetlights in his neighborhood among the shittiest in the city. Thankfully, the neon glow from S.C.S.Ms and food vendors almost made up for the general dim. He looked up the street, towards the general direction of the bridge to her district, to her apartment. 

It took less than a minute of walking to see her. She stood on the corner, arms crossed and a short, thin cigar in her mouth. River watched the tip of the cigar glow orange as she inhaled, then she pulled it from her mouth and he watched the smoke filter through her nostrils as she exhaled. Her eyes were set somewhere distant, looking towards the water that divided their homes. A part of him didn’t want to interrupt; watching her like this felt like something he’d never get the chance to do again. Her guard wasn’t just down, it was gone for the moment and he wanted to make the most of it. 

She took another slow drag and he thought he saw her lip quiver just a little before she inhaled. The smile that brightened his days was absent, replaced by that unsteady line that seemed to jostle her lip stud uncomfortably. She held herself a little tighter and he knew he had to step in before he took her in his own arms.

“Hey V.” He seemed to startle her, her eyes sprung to action, any vulnerability he’d noticed hidden behind a more audience-friendly veneer. She pressed the stump of the cigar into the wall beside her, leaving a smoky circle behind. River’s eyes trailed her outfit when she uncrossed her arm and faced him fully. Dressed to the nines, just like he imagined. Glossy heels led to the bronze skin of her legs, her beautiful knees, and from that spot up to her neck and down to her wrists everything was black and tight and velvety.

“Detective.” She nodded to him, her eyes quickly scanning him up and down. He became acutely aware of the fact that he’d put on sweatpants and a t-shirt after his shower. He wished he’d dressed better. “Glad to see you brought your hands.”

“Heh, yeah,” he replied, dumb and dumbfounded in equal measure. “Any particular reason you need them?”

“Well first I need to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How strong is that metal hand?” Her eyes lingered on his prosthetic and her lips twitched a fraction. He almost said something ridiculous like as strong as you want before catching himself. She was probably asking for a job, not whatever fantasy his brain was desperate to conjure. He took a moment to consider his own hand, clenching it once or twice while he remembered what the ripper had said about its configuration settings.

“Could bend steel with it if I wanted to,” he replied. She seemed happy with this response, chewing on her plush lip for a moment before she looked back to his eyes. A shop light over his shoulder caused her pupils to sharpen drastically and the shades of gray in her irises sparkled brightly. Hypnotic.

“What about lesser metals?”

“Uhh, sure? Shouldn’t be a problem.” Before he could get too nervous about where this was going, she turned away from him. Her dress was unzipped down to the middle of her back. The divot he’d seen running down the length of her spine from across the bar weeks ago was closer to him than ever, completely exposed. She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder, using one hand to collect her curtain of hair, revealing even more skin. 

“My zipper broke. Do you think you could fix it?” She gave him a doe-eyed look that he felt in his knees and he nodded almost instantly. His ‘ganic hand pinched the fabric of the dress where the zipper came together, while his chrome hand clutched the zip itself. He started trying to finagle an agreeable angle with some difficulty. A thought occurred to him and he let it out without much consideration, looking for something to fill the space between them while he struggled.

“You know, I can’t believe how often we’ve run into each other. Thought I’d probably never see you again with how this city is, but it seems like we’re always crossing paths.”

She was quiet for a minute and she seemed to stiffen up under his hands. River suddenly panicked. Was that the wrong thing to say? Should he step back? Let go of her? She shuffled her weight from foot to foot and then took a deep breath before replying.

“Well, actually, I have kind of a funny story to tell you about that.” Her voice sounded a little strained, like she was forcing herself to speak.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. So,” she cleared her throat awkwardly and paused, “I might have put a tracker on you at some point.”

River’s hands stilled. She took one small step away from him and the fabric slipped from his hands. She turned, glancing at his eyes before looking down to the ground, clearly embarrassed. One of her hands clutched her other wrist in some kind of attempt at self comfort and River realized he hadn’t spoken.

“When?” His voice was even, not giving anything away. There wasn’t really anything to give away at this point. He had no idea how to feel about this revelation.

“At Fantaji.” Damn. That was weeks ago. He started thinking about where the hell this tracker was meant to be on him. He hadn’t worn the shirt he had on that night again since, in fact the only thing he had worn again was his coat, which he didn’t put on until after he left the restaurant.

“Where is it?”

“Well, um,” she hesitated, slowly reaching out to take his chrome hand in hers, “I slipped it under your palm plate.”

River remembered shaking her hand that night and thinking she’d lingered. Damn, she was really good. He watched as she used both of her thumbs to apply some pressure just below where his metal digits met his palm. She examined his hand with a level of interest that made him simultaneously cocky and shy. Was she fascinated or creeped out by it? She hadn’t been too scared to use it to her advantage, that’s for sure.

“Impressive.” Ideas percolated in River’s mind as he considered the run-ins they’d had since Fantaji. “So, every time we’ve been thrown together since then has actually been you following me with a tracker you planted on me without my knowledge?”

“Not every time.” She glanced up at him for a second with wide, shining eyes, letting out a quick breath. “God, when you say it like that it sounds awful and gross.” Her gaze was focused on his metal prosthetic held between her own hands. River felt a sick glee come over him, smiling down at her and doing nothing to remove his hand from her gentle grip.

“Did you use the tracker to get here?” V must have heard the delight in his voice as she dared to look back at him. Her cheeks were coloring up. La gatita. She looked so cute, and so guilty.

“I don’t know what you mean.” She shook her hair around dismissively, blinking in quick succession as if she could revoke what she’d already confessed so far. River wasn’t having any of it.

“I mean, why else would you be walking around in a broken dress right on my block? While I was home, no less.” He knew his grin was turning arrogant and smug but he couldn’t help it. She’d waltzed over here in this getup just to see him? His night was looking up exponentially. The bold red of her shiny, pointed shoes was distracting and he couldn’t stop himself from hoping she had some equally red, shiny pedicure on under there. 

“Well for your information, I just happened to be passing through the neighborhood and I saw you were nearby on the tracker and thought you might be able to help me, since you have this and all.” She waved his metal hand back and forth a few times before letting go of it, crossing her arms over her stomach and sharpening her eyes at him. Shit, he’d pushed la gatita too far and ended up with la tigresa staring him down.

“You were just passing through in a broken dress?” His curiosity was stronger than his self-preservation, it seemed. She scoffed at him and looked back out to the distance, shaking her head.

“Yes. I have…I have a date, actually. Wanted to wear this dress.” Shit. She had a date? All the ideas River was brewing about where his night might be headed fizzled out and his earlier headache was back with a vengeance. The last picture she’d sent him sprang to mind again. It brought out an ugly jealousy in the detective, but also a glimmer of distant hope. The guy in the picture had a cyber arm. Why not just ask him to fix her zipper?

“This casanova your friend with the deactivator cuffs?” Her surprised expression confirmed it. “Well, if I remember right, he has a cyber arm that should be able to tackle that dress, no problem.” He did a performative smile-and-nod combo and turned to head back towards his building. Felt like laying down all his cards when he was up against a pro who could have any number of aces up her velvet sleeves, but he had a hunch.

He didn’t make it half the block before she called out to him.

“Detective.” Her voice was enough to halt him, as it always could. He heard the clacking of her heels as she approached and one red-nailed hand gripped his arm, turning him back to face her. Would she ask if he wanted to come out with her instead? Maybe she’d ask if he wanted some company upstairs. The bed was made, the sheets were clean. Just in case. “Do you want me to take the tracker out?”

Oh. It wasn’t a total failure, though it certainly felt like one. She was trying to be nice, or at least considerate. But some part of him felt like he was being cut loose from a tether he didn’t even know he had. He answered before her could overthink it and fuck something up.

“Nah, I think you should leave it.” He saw her eyebrows twitch dubiously. “It’s kind of nice, knowing I’ve got someone looking out for me.” 

V’s expression softened, her lips curling into a smile that reflected his own. Her hand was still on his arm, lingering on the bicep of his coat. She gave it a squeeze and then a pat before letting go.

“Okay. I’ll leave it. But you let me know if you change your mind. And don’t expect me to come running every time you need some gonk paralyzed.” She chuckled and the raspy sound made him shiver. He grinned back at her, glad that whatever it was that’s been going on between them wasn’t over just yet. He thought about asking her to come up for a drink, or maybe he could help her with her dress from the comfort of his couch? Or his bed? 

He bit the inside of his cheek to keep the suggestions in his head and out of his mouth. He was winning. For right now at least. She came to him, confessed she’d been tracking him, and might even be lying about why she was here. He’s holding all the cards. Making the most of it means letting her go. Some old movie quote drifted through his mind, something about always leaving them wanting more. Or was it from a BD? He shook his head, reminding himself of what mattered right now. He was winning. He smiled at V again, taking one of her hands and bringing her knuckles up to his lips for a second of brief contact.

“Enjoy your date, V.” He released her, checking her expression to see her eyes looking dazed. Perfect. Before she could say anything else, he turned away again and headed straight for his building’s front door. He took long strides, knowing that if she stopped him one more time, he wouldn’t be able to keep himself from asking her to come up. At the door, he forced himself to go straight in without looking back for her. She was still there, he was pretty sure, at least he hadn’t heard her heels. He couldn’t look back if he wanted to maintain this win.

He jogged up the stairs to his apartment door, heaving it open and rushing to the windows on the far wall. She was gone. He didn’t know which direction, but he hoped she was headed back towards her apartment. She didn’t invite men back there. He wondered if he should have offered to escort her wherever she was going, could have even given her a ride in Mack. Then again, la tigresa probably would have turned him down. For all he knew, her secret ride, Bella Blanca, was somewhere nearby just waiting for her return.

He glanced up and down the street, watching the cars to see if any would suddenly start up. None of them looked particularly embarrassing. From the way she acted, he’d have guessed her car might be some ancient junker, or maybe one of those gaudy Valentino edits with the underlighting and the custom decals. Nothing on his block matched that description, and after a few minutes of watching nothing happen, he moved back to his couch, flopping down in a strange, but ultimately more positive mood than he’d been in earlier.

He leaned his head against the back of the couch and closed his eyes, trying his best to recall every detail of how she’d looked. Those sharp heels, the way her bare legs shone in the low light. He wondered if she used scented lotion. How close would he need to be to her skin to smell it? The velvet of her dress felt supple in his hand when he tried to fix the zipper. He should have tried harder to fix it for her.

What he should have done was ask her to come up to his place. He could have brought her up the stairs, apologized for the state of the elevator, and had her stood in his apartment doorway by now. She might have made some comment about it, how it looked like a bachelor pad, or maybe how it was neater than she’d expected, aside from all the work stuff on his desk. And he could have held her beautiful face and finally kissed her plush lips. She’d kiss him back, of course she’d kiss him back, she’d come all this way dressed like that just to see him.

River absently noticed his hand drifting to the crotch of his sweatpants, intermittently firming his grip around the growing bulge there. He thought about how their kiss would inevitably heat up. She’d get too fiery for chaste kisses and he was past the point of pretenses. He’d press his tongue into her mouth, feeling around for the internal end of her lip stud. He’d bite that bottom lip, he already knows it. Hopefully she’d be receptive to that, clutching at him with her claws and pulling him closer. He could pick her up and carry her to the wall where his desk was, push the papers and other obstacles away to make it comfortable for her. His hand was inside his sweatpants now, not willing to think too much about what he was doing.

In his head, he was grabbing her thighs, pulling her to the desk’s edge and slipping the tips of his fingers under the lower hem of that buttery velvet. Her hands were on his neck and the back of his head, constantly pulling him closer. He tried to imagine the noises she’d make. Would they be low and menacing? Or wispy and feminine? Didn’t matter, both were fucking great in his fantasy. Either way, he’d soon be pulling her to stand up again, slipping his hands higher up and taking the dress with him. She’d hold her arms up to help him slip it off her, should be easy since it’s already broken. 

What would she be wearing underneath? He’d thought the same thing about the off-the-shoulder getup she’d had on at Fantaji. Picturing that base layer, whatever would be the last thing between his hands and her bare skin, drove him to the brink of madness, just the same then as now. Would it be black, like the dress? Or red, like her shoes and her nails? Fuck, he hoped it was red. His jaw twitched and his hand started speeding up. It would be red, and lacy too. It would cinch in at her waist and hug her hips and exaggerate her already generous bosom. 

She’d stand there, in her heels and her lingerie, red and bronze and glistening. She’d probably have something sassy to say about how he’d ogle her with a cartoonishly slack jaw and an empty mind. Maybe she’d call him ‘detective’ again. Maybe she’d reach out and grab a fistful of his t-shirt, luring him close enough to breathe into his mouth.

“Aren’t you gonna take me to bed, detective?” And that would be more than enough. He’d grab her again, haul her into his arms like fucking cargo and carry her through to his bedroom. The bed was made, sheets fresh, for exactly this scenario. He’d throw her down onto the bed so hard she’d bounce, probably laughing at his eagerness. And then his hands would be all over her, exploring her legs, massaging her hips, squeezing in at the narrowest point of her waist. He’d pull the straps off her shoulders to get access to her breasts, laving his tongue across each nipple in turn until she was writhing under him, every bit as eager as she’d mocked him for being. She’d pull at the fabric of his top until he took it off, and then she’d drag her hands across his torso, claws out. 

His hand idly grazed his chest under his top, trying to dig his nails in like he knew hers would feel. He bit his lip and grunted, thrusting into his hand and picturing her peeling the red lace down her body, revealing toned skin and tattoos and hopefully a few scars too. She’d pull him down onto the bed on top of her, her chest swaying with the motion. He could feel the sharp points of her heels digging into his lower back, bringing him closer. Her hands were clutching the waistband of his sweatpants, dragging them down along with his boxers, her nails scratching his skin as she went. 

There’s no way she’d miss the opportunity to say something about his dick, given how shamelessly she’d flirted in the past. That’s what he told himself, though he briefly cursed the fact that he couldn’t think of anything believable in the moment. He settled for thinking obsessively about how she said ‘Rivurr’. She’d pull him to her, moaning it in his ear as he pushed into her surely perfect pussy. He was getting close, his fist moving at a relentless pace and his breathing a rapid pant. He wanted to create a photorealistic image of what every part of her would look like, feel like, taste like. Especially that sweet spot between her thighs that he thought about more often than he’d ever admit.

Pumping faster still, his lust started to become frustration at his own lack of imagination. He could only accurately summon the parts of her he’d already seen, the rest replaced by vague composites of all the porn he’d watched in his life, which by this point was a lot. Some part of him knew it wasn’t enough. He could envision a thousand naked beauties and they’d never compare until he’d seen the real thing for himself. His fantasies would never be enough for the reality of her. His jaw locked. His breath hitched. He would never be enough until he had her. He released into a tissue he didn’t remember grabbing, wiping himself off while his brain slowly reformed in his skull.

There was some element of the relief he was used to filtering through his body. More than that, though, a new kind of weight started shifting within him. Thinking about her like that, like something he needed, scared him as much as it turned him on. 

River Ward spent the rest of the night poring over the information he had about the latest drug to hit Night City. It did very little to ease his mind.

Less than a week after her latest collision with River, V woke up to three missed calls and numerous messages. She scrolled through her holo from her bed, Fornido tucked under one arm and Johnny perched on the end of her bed like another one of the stuffed animals.

Two missed calls from Panam wondering why she still hasn’t come out to them yet. Way more texts from her growing increasingly more impatient and less coherent. One missed call from Dakota with a job out in the Badlands. Suspiciously well-timed, Pan was surely behind it in some way. She had another message from Regina that she thought would be about a job, but when she glanced at the preview it was clearly something more personal. She swiped her thumb over it to open the message in full.

Right, the new drugs. She didn’t want to know about them right now. Just remembering the relief she felt handing the vial over to Regina at the fixer’s home office was enough to give her a headrush and make her stomach start to feel raw inside. She didn’t need to know anything about whatever the fuck was coming back from the tests. At least not yet. There was another message from Regina.

The raw feeling in her stomach turned all fluttery and V grabbed onto Fornido extra hard while she processed the sensations coursing through her. What must River have said for Reggie to send something like that? It also stood out to her that the fixer thought of the detective as an asset for a merc to have. In V’s mind it seemed completely unnatural to befriend a cop, if she and River were friends. 

How would she use an NCPD contact like him to her benefit? She already knew he’d probably never help her with her work, especially when it came to where her work intersected with the law. She also struggled to imagine him putting up much of a fight to get her out of jail if she found herself in a tight spot. Shit, he’d been the one to cuff her to the fucking roof for intervening.

‘Oh, come on,’ Johnny piped up from the foot of the bed, ‘Like that guy wouldn’t move Heaven and fuckin’ Earth if it meant getting you what you want.’

‘Shut up, he’s fucking true north as far as moral compasses go. He’s not interested in getting down in the dirt, especially not for a dying merc.’ V’s thoughts directed themselves at Johnny while her eyes focused on the tiger plushie. She pulled it onto her chest to look once more into its large, dark eyes. Yep, definitely falling in love with this sweet fuzzy guy. 

‘Maybe not a dying merc,’ Johnny conceded, ‘But he doesn’t know you’re dying. As far as he’s concerned, you’re a down-on-her-luck Heywood girl who just needs a friend with a raging hardon for her.’

‘Ew, Johnny,’ V sneered, partially smirking at the idea of River thinking so highly of her. She might have also spared a thought for the concept of him holding a candle to her, so to speak.

‘Ew, V , that is a disgusting metaphor.’ Johnny shook his head disapprovingly, watching V plant a kiss on the tiger plushie’s big head before clambering out of the bed and heading for the showers. One more message sat unopened on her holo, looked like it was from Tiny Mike, that poor motherfucker. Johnny peered over to glance at the preview. Hey, chiquita, wanna grab a few beers and shoot some pool tonight? Drinks on m- and that’s where it cut off. Christ, this kid was even more obvious than the cop.

Later that day, V was navigating Bella Blanca down an alleyway a few sizes too small even for the MaiMai. Johnny watched from the passenger seat as the wing mirrors scraped the concrete of the buildings either side. Her gig had gone easily enough, weird as it was. Klepped an eye for one of Reggie’s old pals, sent it on its way, and collected the eddies happily. This alley, however, seemed determined to undo any joy and accomplishment she’d felt.

“Fuck it, I’m just gonna zip out and deal with the damage later,” V sighed, strumming her fingers on the wheel. Johnny gave her a skeptical look. “Hey, I just got paid, and it’s my money. If I gotta spend it on my car, I gotta spend it on my car.”

‘Could spend it on a new car,’ Johnny replied, eyeing Bella Blanca’s interior with some combination of disgust and begrudging affection. V mouthed along with his words, turning her lips up and rolling her eyes. One of her hands came up to act as a puppet, earning two middle fingers from her parasite passenger. V pressed harder on the accelerator, pushing past the resistance and out into the street. Directly into the line of an NCPD cruiser. 

The cars collided at the perfect angle for Bella Blanca’s engine to whirr pathetically into silence, powering down and not waking up for any amount of button-pushing and knob-turning on V’s part.

“Come onnnn,” she whined, desperately flicking between ‘park’ and ‘drive’. She looked up at the sound of shouting and saw the two cops getting out of their cruiser, one of them had his gun trained on her through the windshield. The other one, thankfully, looked a little more apprehensive, reading V’s license plate into her shoulder walkie-talkie.

“Outta the car!” The male cop hollered. “Right now, get out of the car!”

V slowly reached around to open the door with one hand, the other raised and empty. She did her best to climb out slowly, not wanting to tickle this fucker’s obvious hair trigger. Just her luck that she’d ding a fucking cop car and it would be one of NCPD’s finest. Both hands bent at the elbow, she stood on the far side of her car, hopeful to at least keep something between her and the blue boy scout.

“Get over to our car and put your hands on the hood, right fucking now, no smart ideas, chica,” he spat at her. V sneered, biting her tongue to keep in any witty Spanish retorts to this motherfucker. The female cop looked latina, she could end up in deeper shit if she ran her mouth right now. Instead, she shuffled shyly around the dented nose of Bella Blanca and over to the police cruiser. Avoiding the scratching in the hood, she propped her hands lightly on the metal, only to be pushed between her shoulder blades so her torso was crushed against the car. 

The air rushed out of her lungs and she grunted as the cop grabbed her hands and cuffed them behind her back, pressing one hand to the back of her head to keep her pinned in place. V could feel his legs pressing against her own, standing entirely too close to her for comfort.

“Is this really necessary?” She grumbled, feeling her cheek catch on some of the newly roughened metal and hissing with the pain. The cop responded by leaning even more weight onto her, the metal cutting into her cheek as a result.

“Think we’ll leave it to me to decide what’s fuckin’ necessary, chica.” V tried to keep still to avoid cutting her cheek any further, only to feel the cop shifting awkwardly from foot to foot behind her. What the fuck was this guy’s problem? Just as she had the thought, it became abundantly clear when he pressed his crotch into her ass, doing his best to grind subtly against her. “Yeah, think you’d like it if I made the decisions, right, chica?”

V said nothing. She’d been in this position or at least something similar plenty of times. Usually they just wanted to feel big and important for a minute and then they’d let her go. This one seemed especially excited about his own existence, however, pawing at the back of her head, pushing her cheek once again into the jagged metal.

“What’s the matter, forgot your manners?” He turned to the other cop who V was certain by now was latina. “Swear to god, these Valentinos don’t teach their women shit.”

V managed to turn her head enough to make eye contact with the female cop. In that strange moment they shared a level of understanding and frustration. The male cop left the back of her head to run one hand down her side until he reached the knives strapped to one thigh.

“You got a license for these blades?”

As if. She barely managed to get the license for the car. V ignored his question, using her head’s current mobility to her advantage and looking pointedly at the latina cop until she had her attention.

“What’s your name?” V croaked, her throat a little tender from the rough treatment.

“Jiminez,” the cop replied, “Rosália Jiminez.”

“¿Conoces a River Ward?” 

“Sí.”

“Llamarlo. Ahora. Dile que es V.” Before V could say anything else, the man-cop’s hand was back on her head, pushing more forcefully this time.

“Quit that shit, speak English!” V thought about cussing him out, but Jiminez held up a placating hand.

“Relax, Phelps, she’s just asking about Detective Ward.” For reasons V didn’t understand, Jiminez’s interjection made Phelps laugh. 

“Your fucking fuck buddy,” he scoffed. V’s ears perked up at that. What the fuck was that supposed to mean? Jiminez pulled out her cell phone and walked around the other side of the car to make a call. V couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, but she understood enough to know that River was on his way. She also understood enough to know that Jiminez talked to him like he was some kind of holy grail, like his presence was going to fix things she didn’t even know were wrong. V heard Johnny’s voice speak from somewhere within her.

‘What, you thought you were the only one that looked at that motherfucker like he makes the sun shine? She’s probably been chasing that lead for years before you showed up, kid.’

V felt a stinging at the back of her eyes, choosing to close them for the moment and lean further into the hood of the cop car. She ignored the comments and unwelcome grinding from Phelps and just waited for it all to be over. Maybe Jiminez was right to think of River as a cure-all, maybe when he got here he’d sweep her up in his ridiculous truck and take her someplace where she didn’t have to feel like this. Someplace that didn’t remind her of her life too much. Someplace where she could be who she was when she was with him. Safe, quiet, comfortable. Perfect.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood there, vaguely hearing Phelps and Jiminez ushering bystanders along, but eventually V felt Phelps fully retreat from compressing her into his chipped fucking paintwork. She took a breath, only now noticing that he’d held her so tightly to the car that she hadn’t been able to take a full breath this whole time.

“Detective Ward,” Jiminez called out, visibly more relieved than she’d been this whole time. V dared to lift her head slightly off the hood to look. She could feel her cheekbone had started to bruise and swell a little from the jagged metal, but ignoring the pain seemed second-nature to her by now. He was waltzing across the street with a mean look in his eye that V didn’t really recognize. He wasn’t looking at her though, his gaze was directed over her head, where she knew Phelps was standing at a respectable distance behind her. Hope he pisses his fucking pants, she thought with a small smile.

“Phelps.” River’s voice came out icy and stern as he walked behind V and immediately set about uncuffing her wrists. “What’s going on here?”

V stood up, finally stretching her arms and rubbing some life back into her wrists. She turned to face the men, noticing how Phelps had taken on some pseudo-professional disposition at River’s arrival.

“Well, sir, the perp here was driving dangerously and illegally down a no-access alley, sped into oncoming traffic, and crashed into our vehicle, as you can see. I apprehended her and was in the midst of questioning her for validation for the weapons on her person. She was being belligerent and resistant, so I had to use some force to get her to comply.” Phelps nodded when he was done talking and River turned around, facing V and blocking her from Phelps’ view. His gaze seemed to immediately lock in on the cut on her cheek, brows furrowing. He almost raised his hand to touch it, but managed to catch himself, remembering his surroundings.

“V,” he spoke low and calm to her, everything about his former hardness gone. “Are you alright?”

“Wanna take a guess, detective?” She knew it wasn’t his fault, but she was pissed enough with everything else going on around her that she couldn’t keep the frustration out of her voice. She raised one hand to gesture to her injured cheek. “This is your little friend’s work, by the way. Fucker’s been dry humping me against the hood of this cruiser for the last fifteen minutes.”

River glanced past her, looking to Jiminez. V turned her head and saw the female cop give the slightest of nods. Confirming Phelps’ behavior. One part of her was relieved the other woman was supporting her. The other part was getting increasingly pissed. Why was it not enough for River that she had just told him what happened? Why did he need to have it confirmed by fucking Rosália Jiminez, whose brown eyes and pretty face made V more nervous by the second.

“Hey.” V snapped a finger in front of the detective’s face, bringing his focus back to her. “My car is fucked, my face is fucked, I was almost fucked through my fucking jeans by your pig friend here. What are you gonna do about it?”

Johnny appeared beside River with a grimace on his face.

‘Oh yeah, I’m sure making demands after crashing into a cop car is gonna get you real far, V.’

‘Thought you said he’d move heaven and Earth for me?’ She raised one eyebrow subtly and spared a glance for Johnny’s disapproving head shakes.

‘Yeah, for the sweet Heywood girl who hugs a tiger plushie and calls him guapo. Not this jealous, bossy cunt act.’ He gestured one hand towards her dismissively, evidently unimpressed by her methods. V ignored him, focusing instead on how River’s expression hardened in front of her.

River was thinking about the IA updates he’d had. They wanted him to prove his dedication and commitment to the force. Bending to V’s will wasn’t exactly inspiring NCPD work. Even in the mental state she always seemed to put him in, that much was clear. She was looking at him expectantly. That cut on her cheek looked painful. The gray of her eyes was cold, all tigress and walls with no room for the gatita he’d come to cherish. Faced with the intensity of her merc persona after glimpsing whatever was underneath frustrated him. Why couldn’t she let him see that real side of her if she truly needed his help?

He couldn’t exactly shoot Phelps in the head, as much as he sensed that’s what V wanted from him. Phelps had never been a great cop; he didn’t show the same potential that Jiminez had, but River had never seen him step too far out of line either. Ordinarily, River wouldn’t have hesitated to start a fight or immediately report Phelps to Faulk and stay vigilant until the motherfucker was kicked off the force. But, right now, that kind of attitude didn’t exactly scream ‘committed’ either. He’d have to be tactical about this. How could he help V without losing face with the force?

River briefly dredged his mind for influence or advice and cropped up with Regina Jones’ words from a few days earlier. She’ll strike when she needs it most. Was this it? The crux of every flirtation, every risque comment and every time he’d lost himself in her sparkling gunmetal eyes? Had it all been for a get-out-of-jail-free card? His guts started squirming and twisting, the back of his neck growing hot. Every time she’d looked at him like he was a moron flashed before his eyes and he truly believed it now, more than ever before. He turned his head, desperate to look away from her when his ‘ganic eye began to sting with the icy glare she was sending his way.

There was her car, battered to one side of the tiny bumper, battery partially exposed through the warped metal. Looked worse than he’d expected from what Phelps had described, but maybe she’d already found some trouble before her run-in. Maybe that’s why she was being so short with him. He glanced back to her for a quick assessment of any other injuries, but it mostly seemed like the cut on her face was the worst of it.

“River,” she barked at him, her tone so sharp he couldn’t even get joy out of hearing her say his name. “I said, what are you gonna do about it?”

“I’m gonna let you go without arresting you for destruction of city property is what I’m gonna do.” He answered before he’d fully thought it through, but this seemed like the safest choice to get everything he wanted out of the situation. She’d be free to walk away, he still looked like a respectable cop, and if it reminded her that she couldn’t walk all over him then that was just a plus. Although it certainly didn’t feel like a plus to see her expression turn colder, her slitted pupils even sharper and meaner.

“What? What about my car? What about this asshole?” She gestured to Phelps with one arm and River glimpsed her wrist looked reddened from the cuffs. Phelps must have over-tightened them. The detective felt a vein throb in the side of his neck with the urge to crush Phelp’s windpipe with his chrome hand, or maybe just cave in his skull. But he took a steadying breath and reminded himself of who he was. A Night City police detective, sworn to protect and serve, definitely not permitted to enact justice as he sees fit.

“Your car will be taken to the impound lot. I’ll make sure any valuables are collected and returned to you.”

“Fuck that, take it to a mechanic!” Her beautiful arched brows were furrowed down in the corners, her mouth curled into a menacing snarl. But River could see her eyes starting to get watery. Fuck, if she cried right now what would he do? His stomach strained with a stone lodged inside at the thought of it. What’s worse, a part of him almost wanted her to cry. Whether that was so he could comfort her or just to prove she was getting as upset as he felt, he wasn’t sure. Wasn’t sure it was safe or sensible to delve deeper into that line of questioning.

“It has to go to an impound lot because a crime has taken place. From there, the crew will search it for evidence of any further criminal activity and then it can go to a mechanic.” Fighting to keep his voice steady and clear was a fucking nightmare, but River kept reminding himself that Phelps was right behind him. Couldn’t exactly get on his knees and beg for V’s forgiveness right now, much as he wanted to.

“And what about him?” Her voice wobbled the slightest bit and her arms crossed over her stomach, locking herself away from him. She spared one look at Phelps and sneered before turning back to River. Her eyes were shining so much. There was so much gray there, dark and light intertwining and pleading with him to do something.

“I’ll deal with him.” River tried to sound reassuring, but she saw right through him.

“Like you dealt with Han?” she scoffed. River took a step closer to her, holding one hand up as if to silence her before turning it into a fist.

“V.” He hoped his eyes communicated everything he was thinking. Don’t say another fucking word about that. “This has to go through the proper channels.”

She pursed her lips and nodded her head slowly, giving him that look again, the one that says you’re a fucking idiot. 

“The proper channels. The proper channels? Okay, I hope you and your proper fucking channels get to work real soon before this asshole hurts someone else.” She took one step away from the car, away from him, and turned to face him again, gesturing with her hands as she spoke in a way he wished he didn’t find so sexy. “And another thing, detective? I hope you enjoyed feeling like somebody was looking out for you while it lasted. I’m sure your friends at the NCPD have got your back.”

She turned again, so quickly her hair whipped around in a black blur of motion, and strided away from him, towards Jiminez. V paused for a second when they were shoulder to shoulder and River saw she turned her head to say something in Spanish to the shorter woman, but it was too faint for his translator to pick up. After that, she was off again, walking with total confidence like she’d just gotten everything she wanted out of this fucked up situation. 

River could do nothing but watch as she rounded the next corner and disappeared. Panic spiraled through him like vertigo. What if that was the last time he’d ever see her? Had she gotten her use from him and discarded him? He had to do something to keep himself from running after her. Jiminez approached him and he could have kissed her for the relief of having something to distract him.

“You okay, sir?” She looked about as shaken up as he felt, he noticed. Now seemed like as good a time as any to step up and offer some guidance and mentorship to her. He could prove his worth to the force. He had to do something that might help break down the weight settled inside him. That weight that was reminding him of the last time he saw V. The last time he thought about kissing her, fucking her, being able to touch every part of her. The need he had felt for her. I’ll never be enough until I have her, the thought was plummeting through him, cutting him open from the inside. If he started running now, maybe he would catch up to her. “Sir?”

Jiminez touched his arm, bringing him back to the moment. He blinked a few times, reminding himself of where he was. Right. Help Jiminez. That was his goal.

“Fine, fine. Are you? What did she say to you there before she left?”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. I think she was just pretty pissed off. Don’t worry about it.”

“You sure?” He wondered if it might have been easier if she’d had more to say. Could have distracted him more if she was completely distraught or traumatized.

“I’m sure. Rather focus on what’s next. Her car?” Jiminez looked up at him with a stern expression. She was good at compartmentalizing, he’d give her that. Already she was trying to move on. He decided following her lead would be the best way to progress, the best way to keep his mind on track and stop him from getting too caught up in…in her.

“I’ll deal with the Bel- I’ll deal with her car. The cruiser still running okay?”

“Not happily, but I can get it back to the station.”

“Alright, you and Phelps go back to HQ and wait for me there. You drive. Make sure he doesn’t try anything stupid.” Jiminez nodded dutifully and started heading off towards the cruiser before River reached out an arm to stop her, holding her shoulder for a moment. “Good work here, Jiminez. You did the right thing, calling me in.”

“She asked me to, sir.”

“And I’m glad you listened to her.” He hesitated, worrying about giving too much of the truth away. “Seen for yourself she’s done a lot of subcons for us, she’s a valuable asset to have on the streets.” Jiminez nodded in agreement and they shared a knowing look. River remembered the way she’d ogled V on that security cam still along with Phelps and Hanson at the station. There was an acknowledgement in her eyes, like she knew he was still thinking about chasing after V. The acknowledgement came with an acceptance as well though, she knew, but she wasn’t going to tell anyone about it. His secret was safe with her.

V lingered around the corner, contemplating turning back. She knew she wasn’t exactly being completely reasonable with River. She had hit a cop car after all, but that wasn’t the point. He was supposed to help her, whatever she needed whenever she needed it. Sure, he’d never said that to her, but he’d certainly implied that much. He’d patched up her fucking lip, for fuck’s sake. She closed her eyes and pictured the way he held her hand outside his apartment building. He kissed her fucking hand. Why would he not help her? He didn’t even offer to drive her home. She peered around the corner and instantly regretted it.

River’s hand was on that cop, Rosália Jiminez. Holding her shoulder and smiling at her with that kind fucking face that V wanted to cut open right now. Her hand slipped to her thigh and rested on the holster of one of her knives. She could throw three and get all of them from this distance. At the very least she could get Jiminez and Phelps before River could stop her. Then maybe he’d stop acting like he was trying to impress them. She could tell him to get on his knees and beg for his pathetic life.

‘V,’ Johnny said in a calm, even tone, materializing beside her. She looked away from River Ward and his cute little girlfriend to face the rocker in her mind, not caring in the slightest if she looked as insane as she felt right now. ‘You’re being ridiculous. Let’s go somewhere else before you kill someone and your precious piggy has to actually lock you up.’

He was right. She knew he was right. But fuck if it didn’t hurt to admit it.

‘You don’t have to say it,’ he offered like some kind of consolation, ‘Can already feel you thinking it. C’mon, kid, let’s get outta here.’

‘Okay,’ V sighed, pushing away from the corner and heading further down the block, away from fucking Phelps and Jiminez. Away from River. She pulled her phone out of her pocket, opened her tracker app, and deactivated it. She didn’t want more reasons to think about him right now. Didn’t fucking matter where he was or what he was doing. She saw the message she’d received from Dakota that morning. Without a second thought, she opened a call with the fixer, crossing the street to head to a metro station.

“Sister,” Dakota answered after three rings.

“What do you got for me, Dakota? Really in the mood to put some bullets in heads right about now.”

“Perfect, I know just the man you need to see.”

Chapter Text

River backed Mack up right alongside Bella Blanca, climbing out and stepping on the side bars to grab a winch line from the truck bed. Hooking it around the crooked bumper of the MaiMai was no easy task, but he managed to get it secure after a few attempts. 

Pulling away from the sidewalk, he heard some scraping complaints from the compact vehicle, but it remained intact for the whole drive. He took it straight to his apartment building, heading to the underground parking lot and stopping just shy of his designated spot. He unhooked the MaiMai and got to work maneuvering it into his parking space. 

The battery was completely dead, leaving him with only the option of putting it in neutral and pushing it in at an agonizingly slow pace. He’d definitely have to lay off the gym for a few days if he ever wanted his back to stop acting up. 

He climbed back in Mack and reversed it - just enough to cover his space from view - then flicked the radio on, switching channels until he found something peaceful and jazzy. His toolkit was in the truck bed, along with his detailing kit he used for general cleaning and upkeep. 

River pulled his coat off and flung it through Mack’s open driver’s window, reaching in and cranking the volume for the radio. He looked at Bella Blanca and made a mental list of everything he had to do to prep it.

Empty it. Clean it. Fix it.

He started by opening all the doors. It smelled like her inside, the waft of her coconut-peach combo hitting him in a wave when he bent down to start clearing. There wasn’t too much there. Some keys, he pocketed them. A lipstick that he also pocketed. He smiled at the sight of some trash balled up around the passenger’s seat. To think he’d thought she was so high-class. It was takeout wrappers mostly, some from Buck-a-Slice, a few from Lou’s Diner where they’d eaten burgers together. One Caliente’s napkin, he was disappointed to discover. He’d have to take her somewhere better.

Once the trash was gone, there was just a large duffel bag on the backseat. He pulled it out and set it on Mack’s back bench. He didn’t need to open it. He knew he didn’t need to know what was in there, just that it was V’s and she’d need it back.

Still.

It would be great to know what was in there. He still wasn’t sure if she’d agree to meet with him to get her things. Maybe if he knew what was in there it would strengthen his negotiation skills. His hand was on the zip before he could rethink his logic, and he cast a glance in either direction before dragging it open. 

The radio started playing something that caught his attention. Dramatic strings hit his ears like nothing River had ever heard before. He reached a hand into the bag and pulled out the first thing he found. The dress she’d worn to Fantaji. Without thinking, he brought the dress to his nose, inhaling the enchanting smell of her perfume just as the singer’s voice broke out across the strings.

I put a spell on you, because you’re mine.

Something stirred within him, something he was too scared to address or linger on. River pushed the dress back into the bag, zipping it up and shoving it further along the bench before he could do anything else ridiculous. He turned back to the car, her car. Dropping into the driver’s seat was nearly impossible, even when he pulled it back as far as it would go. 

The glovebox had a gun in it, no surprises there for a merc. He pulled it out for a closer look. It was some type of custom Liberty pistol with a neon pink grip and some matching pink lettering etched on the barrel reading 'no es santa’. His translator kicked in, highlighting the text as ‘no saint'. River chuckled, picturing her paying to get that done. 

There was a Catholic cross decal on the grip, a design he’d seen all over Valentino hot spots. Was she religious? It didn’t change anything about his…fixation, for lack of a better word. But if she was at least that would be something he could research in an attempt to learn more about her. The song picked up again, filtering into River’s mind, impossible to ignore.

And I don’t care if you don’t want me, I’m yours right now.

He quickly grabbed the silencer that was still in the glovebox and hauled himself out of the car. A part of him couldn’t believe she kept the pistol loose with no holster or locker, but then he reminded himself she was a mercenary who happily drove into traffic only a few hours earlier. Safety was hardly her top priority.

The song came to a close and River heard the radio host give the artist’s name: Nina Simone. He linked to Mack’s radio and chose a compilation playlist called Nina Simone: Voice of the Twentieth Century. The first song was the same as the one he’d just heard. He didn’t skip it. Instead, he turned back to look at Bella Blanca.

At a glance, the car seemed empty, but River liked to think he knew la tigresa better than that. It was time to scour. He spent the next hour checking every panel, removing the two seats, and feeling around the bodywork for any other compartments. Nina Simone’s voice oversaw the entire process. He uncovered a swathe of takeout menus, Valentino church leaflets, a little under a thousand eddies in an envelope, and a photo. 

The photo was a little creased, folded roughly in half. River sat on the floor with his back against the MaiMai, meticulously unfolding the photo and trying to iron out the creases to get a better look. V’s smile, dead center, hit him like a freight train. She looked so happy, beaming ear to ear. 

I put a spell on you, because you’re mine.

To her left was another woman, shorter, with a blonde halo of hair that raised River’s eyebrows. On V’s right, a big Valentino-looking guy had his arm around them both. Seemed like he was the one holding the camera, one arm extended out above all three of them. The big guy’s hand was on the blonde’s shoulder, placing V firmly in the middle. River was a little relieved at the implied closeness of the blonde and the Valentino, although he felt stupid for it.

The guy could be her brother for all he knew. Just because he was latino didn’t mean they were a couple. Didn’t look like he had a cyber arm at least. He let his eyes linger on V’s face. Fuck, she was so beautiful. The flash from the camera made her pupils into tiny slices, exposing so much of the gray that gave him palpitations.

His chest tightened, remembering how shiny her eyes had been earlier that day. Her expression was so hard when she walked away from him. So resolute, so cruel. What if he didn’t see her again? What if she’d rather lose her Bella Blanca and everything in it than have to deal with him? He closed his eye, thinking of every moment they’d been close enough to touch. Nina Simone provided a soundtrack that made everything feel worse, yet he couldn’t switch it off.

River spent the rest of the night doing a deep clean and detailing job on the MaiMai. Fixing the battery took two and a half hours, most of his toolkit, and a ton of elbow grease. The crumpled bodywork was yet more time-consuming, and he’d have to pay to get the paintwork fixed. All in all, he was in his parking garage until two in the morning working out every dent and scrape.

The sound of Nina Simone haunted him the whole time. Her voice reminded him of V somehow. She sounded so lonely. Listening to her felt like listening to his own heartbeat. He wasn’t sure what that said about him, but he knew the only thing he could do right now was fix the car. Fix the car, and after that, hopefully fix whatever else he’d broken today.

Huffing and heaving, V brought the Wraith to the ground in a chokehold. Her boots scrambled for purchase against the smooth concrete flooring, dragging them both back until the Wraith fell limp in her arms.

She hauled him off of her, getting to her feet and flicking her hair out of the way. It was fucking hot out today. The sound of something getting knocked over had her hugging the walls. It seemed to come from the basement. She headed for the stairs, briefly distracted by a monitor that looked oh so hackable.

V looked both ways, ensuring she was alone before slotting in her link and breaking through the mediocre firewall. Comms from the target and his clients. Perfect. Dakota was clear about the main objective: get rid of the fucking guy. But V was sure extra info would always be appreciated. The first message knocked the air out of her.

From: Ichabod Adebayo

To: Big Pete

Peter,

Thank you for your latest equipment. Our contact was right to connect you and I for our exchange. I believe that, together, we can both expand our businesses and carve out a real foothold in this city. 

I’ll be in touch again soon to arrange another shipment to you. Has your latest contact had success with distribution on his part?

Looking forward to your update.

Ichabod

V’s blood ran cold. That fucking name. Ichabod fucking Adebayo. She could hear his steady voice just reading his words on the screen. She closed her eyes, trying to get away from the words, and saw those three red eyes in the middle of his forehead. Looming over her as she lay on a table.

It couldn’t be. He’s not here. They’re not here. They can’t be; they’d never leave Atlanta. At least, they never would have left Atlanta when Dean was around. But maybe they could be here now. No. She wouldn’t let herself believe it. Whoever the fuck Big Pete was, he was about to meet his fucking maker for bringing up these memories.

Another sound from the basement brought her back into the moment. Fucker was probably down there right now, cowering. Not that he had any idea she was here. She was a ghost, picking off Wraiths like flies. 

She turned back to the monitor, ready to harvest as much data as possible. She was going to kill Big Pete today. Then she was going to use all this info to kill as many of his contacts as possible. Stupid motherfucker. She opened the next message.

From: Big Pete

To: Tony

Hey Tony!

How ya doin buddy? Sent that package to you from the new guys in town, did you get it yet? If so how’s the results for ya? 

Lemme know when you’re ready for more

Big Pete

From: Tony

To: Big Pete

Pete!!!

It’s great stuff - great stuff Pete. My boys all like it, we’re definitely gonna want more. When can you get more? I think I can get some new guys interested in sampling and maybe selling and shipping too maybe huh?

Ready 4 more when you can get it to me - I’ll send the eddies this week for ya.

Tony

From: Big Pete

To: Tony

Hey Tony that’s great! I’ll definitely get more to you soon.

You said your boys are liking it? Is this the guys you’ve got in from the city? If they’re ready to sell for themselves I can try hook em up directly with my connection from this new group?

Big Pete

From: Tony

To: Big Pete

Hey hey Pete!

The boys can’t sell just yet, they have to stay with me on the farm for a while before they’ll be ready, but we definitely want more product!! I’ll pay today if you can send it today???

Tony

From: Big Pete

To: Tony

Hey Tony,

No problem, buddy. You send the eddies and I’ll send a shipment with one of the Raffen this afternoon for you and those farm hand boys - hope y’all have a great time with it!

Big Pete

V took a shard out, copying the comms to it before slipping it back into her pocket. She didn’t know who Tony was, but at least there seemed to be some level of separation between him and Ichabod. It was Big Pete that she knew she had to deal with. Right fucking now.

Descending into the basement was easy, nobody left at the outpost except Big Pete if Dakota’s info was any good, and it usually was. Hiding around the last corner before the open space of the basement, V reached for her holster, finding the left side empty. 

Shit. She’d left Vaquera in the glovebox of her stupid fucking car.

‘So just use your other pistol,’ Johnny complained from somewhere in her consciousness.

‘Vaquera’s my favorite,’ she replied.

‘Too fuckin’ bad, kid, this is a little time sensitive,’ Johnny’s voice fizzled out, seemingly done with her mood today. V couldn’t exactly blame him. So far everything about today had gone from bad to worse. If River was right about Bella Blanca, she should at least get Vaquera back before her car goes to wherever the fuck it’s headed.

River. How could she get Vaquera back without having to see him again? Thinking about him probably wasn’t the brightest idea right now. She couldn’t help it. She shouldn’t have reacted like that. He was just trying to help. Her stomach twisted in a way she recognized as Johnny’s silent I told you so.

More clattering from around the corner snapped her back to reality before she could dwell any further on Detective Ward, and she grabbed the pistol from her right holster before stepping into the light.

“Stop right there, motherfucker,” she announced, loudly flicking the safety off and pulling the hammer back with a click. Big Pete was facing the wall, immediately raising his arms and already quivering. Pathetic.

“Easy, choom,” he sputtered, “I’m sure we can figure something out here.”

“I’ll be figuring out how to send your body to your mother if you don’t shut up, Big Pete.”

“Hey now, don’t bring ma into this,” he replied. “Please,” he added when he remembered himself.

V took a few steps closer, enough to press the end of the barrel into the back of his head.

“How do you know Ichabod Adebayo?” She pressed a little harder at the end of her question, shoving him a small step forward.

“This is about that scientist guy? Fuck, man, I barely know him, I swear!”

“How do you know Ichabod Adebayo?" V repeated through gritted teeth. She could almost hear her blood pounding through her veins, her grip on the pistol becoming unbearable.

“Look, I only met him two times. His boss talked to the Raffen I been workin’ for when he came to Night City. Asked if I could set him up with some knockoff Biotechnica gear for his lab-”

“What’s he making in his lab?” V interrupted, her legs shaking where she stood.

“I don’t kno-”

“Don’t fuck with me, Pete!” V growled. She closed her eyes for a second and immediately saw the old lab in Atlanta. Her nostrils burned with the sterile odor. A distant pain started building in her abdomen. A memory. Big Pete still hadn’t answered. “You tryin’ to die today, fuckface?!”

“Drugs, okay?! He’s making some new drug - all his own recipe and everything!”

“What kind of drug?”

“Some kinda party drug, gonna sell it in all the corpo clubs and make a killing! That’s all I know, I swear!”

V believed him. The Ichabod she knew would never have revealed his full plan, especially not to some schmuck like this Big Pete. She sighed, pushing the fear away for now. She had a job to do.

“Turn around, Big Pete,” she ordered. He turned slowly, his arms still held aloft. He looked about ready to piss his pants, but then his expression shifted to shock when they made eye contact.

“Holy shit, are you V?”

“What?” The shock was enough to prompt Johnny to materialize just to the side of the guy, peering at him over his aviators with suspicion.

“You’re V the merc, right? Tiny Mike’s girl?”

What.

“Tiny Mike’s what?” Her gritted teeth fought against dropping her finger to the trigger.

“I’m his brother, Big Pete. Tiny’s my little bro. He’s told me all about you. I’ve seen more stills than he’s prolly proud to admit,” he said, letting out a little laugh. V felt her finger start to squeeze around the trigger for a second. Big Pete noticed, becoming panicked. “Hey hey hey. Please don’t kill me, Jesus, V, you can’t kill me.”

“You’re kidding. Tiny Mike’s girl? I should kill you and then find him and kill him too. Send you both to your ma in a fucking box.”

“Please, V, Jesus. Who sent you anyway?” His hands were resting on top of his head, eyes squeezed shut in desperation.

“Forget you botched a job, Pete? Bound to get a price on your head for shit like that in these parts.” V’s mind was fluctuating wildly between her anger, her fear, and her sadness. She moved her finger off the trigger, not trusting herself.

“Fuck. I’m begging you. I can leave. I’ll leave the city, never come back. I won’t be a problem for Regina or Dakota or whoever fucking sent you, I swear. Please, V? Don’t make Tiny and ma suffer just cos I’m a fuck-up!”

V stood motionless for a moment. She was paid to kill him. Dakota trusted her to kill him. He was Tiny’s brother. Tiny would never have done this to Jackie. However she felt about the ‘Tiny’s girl’ shit, she couldn’t do this to him. She couldn’t do this.

“Fuck’s sake,” V sighed, lowering the gun and switching it back to safety. Big Pete’s arms dropped to his sides as he deflated from the stress.

“Thank you, V. Really, I mean it.”

“You’re leaving right now. Not going back to your apartment. Not seeing your fucking ma. Nothing. You get in one of the cars outside and hit the road right now. I’m watching you drive off this lot.” She asserted herself, gesturing with the gun as Pete vigorously nodded along.

“Yeah, yeah of course, V. Thanks again so much for this, I won’t forget this, V.”

“Just get the fuck outta here, Pete,” she replied, holstering the pistol and pushing him ahead of her towards the stairs. The datashard in her pocket felt ten times heavier than when she arrived.

“You know I appreciate the work you do, Ward.” Captain Faulk’s voice managed to walk the line between earnest and disinterested. His office was sparse, with only the framed photo of his wife and kids personalizing the space. An NCPD captain through and through. “But this has got to end.”

River’s attention shifted from the photo to Faulk’s face. The man’s expression was one practiced and perfected through thirty years in the force. It was hard to feel justified in getting pissed off looking into that professional façade, but River was in the mood to try.

“Sir,” he began, “Respectfully, I don’t see how I can stop.”

“You’re a bloodhound, Ward. It’s one of your best traits. It’s how you’ve made it to where you are today. But going after Phelps? When your ass is already on the line? What’s your play here?” Faulk’s mustache twitched almost imperceptibly. River wondered how pissed off he had to be to let a crack like that show.

“My play is that I’ve received a complaint about Phelps’ behavior and I’ve been following it up. I’m finding some troubling evidence, sir.” River shrugged his shoulders, hoping to get some of the building tension out of them. It had only been two days since he’d been flat on his back on the solid concrete floor of the parking garage, cramped under the body of V’s MaiMai.

“Evidence?” Another twitch. “You’re talking about him like he’s a perp. Listen to yourself, detective.”

“Sir.” River held up his chrome hand, placating and - hopefully - a neat reminder of his years of hard work and literal sacrifice. “I understand what you’re saying, I do. The fact of the matter is Phelps may be a perp, based on what I’m finding.”

“And what, exactly, are you finding, Ward?” Faulk’s hard stare changed, only a fraction but the detective picked up on it.

River sighed. This was the question he wanted to avoid, and the one he knew was inevitable. There were a lot of ways this could go wrong. He tried to stick to the points he wanted Faulk to know, choosing his words carefully. 

“Sir, there have been more than thirty complaints made against Phelps just this year. All women. More than half of them saying he sexually harassed them and abused his position of power. A lot of vulnerable groups, homeless women, drug addicts. There’s a pattern here, captain.”

“Homeless drug addicts are pretty likely to have unpleasant encounters with cops, do you not think, Ward? I’m not interested in listening to you talk about complaints made against our officers by criminals. Do you have any real evidence to contribute to this goose chase or not?” Faulk’s mustache tweaked with his words, his voice bordering more obviously on the genuine anger simmering beneath the surface.

River weighed his options. On one side, there was his career. What he’d dedicated close to twenty years to, what he’d anchored his pride in and built himself around. His future, sitting across the desk from him, looking at him with impatience.

On the other side, V. Whatever connection they had, or at least did have before their last encounter. He could still repair it if he made the right choice. He looked back at the framed photo on Faulk’s desk. How would he get that for himself if he kept living how he’d lived so far?

But, more than that, he couldn’t deny the truth.

Phelps was crooked. He’d harassed V. He’d harassed a lot more too. He was involved in some way with the new drugs in the city. River had unearthed enough to prove his connection. But, could he show that to Faulk?

River took a breath.

“Sir, are you aware of the open case surrounding ‘Sanguine’?” River asked, hoping for a good sign.

There it was again. The mustache twitch. Fuck.

“What does this have to do with Phelps?” Faulk asked.

Faulk knew something. Any NCPD captain who knew about sanguine was surely crooked. River wasn’t going to let himself be naive enough to ignore that. He couldn’t be an arbiter of the truth and gloss over the look in his captain’s eyes right now. Faulk looked ready to fire him on the spot depending on the next words out of his mouth.

River thought about the weight of his choice. His future. Could he sit in Faulk’s seat? Was there any way to get there without losing his way? Could he have that seat and have space in his life for V?

Suddenly, the choice was obvious.

“Nothing, sir. I’m just aware that he’s worked on the case,” River replied. Faulk’s stare was unmoved, but this wasn’t River’s first bluff. He held firm. The detective could feel his captain’s gears grinding. He wanted to punish him, that much was obvious. But River’s safe answer meant he couldn’t justify firing him. 

River knew what Faulk was going to say before the words were out of his mouth.

“You’re suspended, Ward. Because of your decent record of good police work, it’ll be with pay. Six weeks. Give you some time to remember where your head should be at in this job.” Faulk nodded his head, his decision made and cemented in the same breath.

“I understand, sir,” River replied, some of his tension already easing. He’d avoided major suspicion. Given his history with Faulk, the man likely assumed he would walk away with his tail between his legs and come back in six weeks just as he had been before this. Before Phelps, before Han. 

What Faulk didn’t know was that he’d always operated like this. River had known about corruption in the NCPD from the time he was nine. Harold Han was not the first in a very long line of disappointing colleagues, though he had been the first to help coverup an assassination.

“I’ll see myself out,” River added, standing and briefly shaking Faulk’s hand before turning to leave. He made sure to keep his grip controlled; Faulk had to think he was shaken, now was not the time for bruising the man’s finger bones.

River stopped at his desk in the bullpen on the way out. Han wasn’t here, thank god. He pulled open his desk drawer to clear it out. Just one old notepad he hadn’t used for years. His desk was already clear. No framed photo of a family to see him through tough times. Not even a picture of Joss and the kids.

He left the station and headed straight for the metro. Where he was going, he couldn’t take the risk of being spotted in Mack.

Forty minutes later saw River taking a seat in a coffee shop downtown. He angled his chair for a clearer view out the window, adjusting until he had a straight shot of the front and side entrances for Akuma.

The nightclub had been open for about two months, and River had heard from the young rookies and beat cops that it was incredibly popular. Some guys from out of town had partnered up with at least one local investor and they were making waves on the nightlife scene.

River’s optic whirred to life as he reopened the list of complaints against Phelps. It would be a couple of hours before he expected anybody to be showing up; now was the perfect time to refresh his memory.

V’s complaint had been the most recent, not connected with Akuma. Before her, an off-duty doll named Peridot claimed Phelps had confiscated some bladed platform heels of hers and felt her up whilst doing so. She’d been smoking outside Akuma at the time.

The next in the list, Madison Kovacs, reported that Phelps had offered to let her off on minor drug possession if she’d give him a blowjob. When she said no, he supposedly threatened to arrest her, ultimately advising her to head to Akuma for a second chance. She hadn’t been seen by friends or family since her initial complaint. River looked at her profile. She was sixteen. Christ.

Another complaint, only a week before Madison’s, also involved Akuma. Janelle Greene was living rough when officer Phelps suggested she try a women’s shelter in the area. He gave her the address for Akuma. She complained, and then ten days later her sister reported her missing. She hadn’t been found yet.

There were three others involving Akuma. In almost every scenario, Phelps was trying his best to usher vulnerable women to the club. But why? And where were they? It was possible they’d found their feet since making their complaints. But the missing persons reports? Why would they not tell their families if things were going good?

Movement from across the street prompted River to shut down his reports. He took a steadying sip of his coffee, his eyes laser focused on the side door opening. A figure emerged and River initially averted his eyes from the bright reflection of the late afternoon sun on a head of hair.

She moved, the light faded, and River looked again. That girl from the photo he found in V’s car. He’d recognize that insane hair anywhere. She was followed close behind by a man. Around six foot, athletic looking, asian. His bleached blond-auburn hair was slicked back and he wore a leather vest with no shirt.

They were smiling and chatting. She didn’t seem to be in any danger. She looked sober. She waved goodbye to the man and trotted across the street down to a metro station. The man watched her go. River watched them both.

A car pulled up alongside the curb and the man headed over, climbing in the passenger side. River zoomed with his optic. The driver’s window was tinted, but he knew the car. Phelps’ Mizutani Shion. Nobody else in Night City had that disgusting custom purple color and those dirty green window tints.

The car pulled away, taking both men with it. River’s little reconnaissance mission was over, for now. He hadn’t learned much, but he knew two things.

First, Phelps was connected to whatever shit was going on at Akuma - and some shit was certainly going on.

Second, it was high time he reached out to V again.

“So you let him go?” Panam asked, one hand resting out the window of her ride as they bounded through the Badlands. As soon as Big Pete’s car was kicking up dust outside the Wraith hideout, V opened her holo and pinged her location to the Aldecaldo. She was almost regretting it now. Sure V’s MaiMai ate shit on the desert roads when she had it, but at least it wasn’t so…bouncy.

“Uhuh,” V answered, closing her eyes and breathing through her mouth, fighting the building nausea in her stomach.

“God, you’re the worst for offroading,” Panam laughed, catapulting them over a dune. “It’s a good thing I like you or I wouldn’t bother to give you the luxury of going for a spin in my baby.”

“Yeah, I’m real lucky,” V replied, wiping the sweat from her forehead. “Any progression with the clan while I’ve been gone?”

“Since the whole Nash mess? Fuck no. Saul still hates me-”

“Saul doesn’t hate you-”

“Saul still hates me. Mitch isn’t as supportive since I headed to NC. I’m trying to pick up the pieces but it’s clear they don’t want me there.” 

“You’re so wrong it’s not even funny,” V replied, looking to the canyons in the distance to keep her mind off of the constant up and down of the Thorton.

“Hey shut up?” Panam replied, half laughing, half scowling.

“I’m serious, Pan. Can’t you tell how much they need you? Saul says he disapproves and sure, it’s difficult with the Nash situation, but they need you as much as you clearly need them. You should be lucky to have such a big family who loves you so much.” V felt her stomach lurch, not just from the car as they came to a sudden stop on the outskirts of the Aldecaldo encampment. She should talk to Mama and Misty soon, maybe even get a tarot reading or something. 

Panam didn’t answer, huffing some kind of dismissive-defeated noise and comfortably hopping out of the car. V’s disembarkment was less smooth, nearly stumbling when her legs felt like jelly upon feeling solid ground beneath her.

“Still not used to these roads, huh?” V turned to see Mitch and Scorpion approaching, the former calling out and delivering a swift pat to the back. V smiled, not realizing how much she’d missed their ever-present calm. The two had kept her sane through the long journey from Atlanta, and she’d been grateful to them ever since.

“I’m not built for the ‘caldo way of driving,” she replied.

“Not sure I’d call what Panam does ‘the ‘caldo way’,” Scorpion interjected, grinning and dodging a playful punch from Panam as she passed.

“Shut up, all of you,” she interjected. “C’mon, we’ve got some prep to do if we wanna catch that Hellman guy for you.”

Whenever V came out to see the Aldecaldos, she always timed her arrival with their nightly feasts. The food was never all that great, but the company was unlike anything she’d experienced in her life. Anytime she was here, she was immediately family. Trestle tables and benches appeared from eighteen-wheelers and in a matter of minutes V was nudged into a seat between Panam and a ‘caldo she hadn’t met before. 

“Hi, sister,” the young girl said with a beaming smile, “I’m Tama.”

“This is V,” Panam leaned across her, gesturing between the two of them with a serving spoon, “Tam’s been desperate to talk to a Night City native since we moved out here.”

“Pan!” Tama complained.

“Oh yeah?” V smiled warmly. She looked at the young ‘caldo, eyes bright and mouth turned up in a nervous grin. Tama reminded her of herself when she was younger. “What did you wanna know?”

“Oh my god, so much!” Tama exclaimed. “Have you always lived there? Are your family from there? What’s with the food in NC? I’ve never had a Buck A Slice before we got here but it tastes like dirty cardboard.”

“I’ll take those one at a time,” V replied, her smile growing, “I’ve only ever lived in NC and Atlanta, and trust me, NC is somehow the better end of that deal. Honestly got no idea where either of my parents were from, but the people I call my family are all from Night City. Plus I guess you guys who are from everywhere. Aaaand, there’s really not much I can say about Buck A Slice. What were you doing eating that shit anyway? Surely Panam’s raised you better than that.”

“Well when it’s two am and I’m getting kicked outta the club I’ll take whatever I can get,” Tama laughed. 

“And what the hell are you doing in clubs?” Panam’s voice cut across the table, stern and mocking all at once.

“Not drinking, that’s for sure,” Tama replied. The obviously rehearsed line caused V and Panam to share a knowing look, both smiling despite trying to be better role models.

“Uh-huh,” V said through her grin, “And so what do you do when you’re in the clubs?”

“Honestly, it’s just one club I’ve been going to since we got here. It’s new, maybe you know it?”

V could already feel the hairs on the back of her neck starting to rise. Tama kept talking, blissfully unaware of the effect her words were having on V.

“It’s called Akuma.” 

No. No, this wasn’t happening.

“There’s this girl there who does tarot readings and sells healing crystals and all this cool shit. Her name’s Misty. I met her on my first night there and we’ve been hanging out since. She’s so awesome. She found out I was eighteen and promised to look after me. I-”

“You know Misty?” Panam interjected, “That’s V’s friend.”

“Misty Olszewski? The mystic girl?” Tama asked, looking at V for confirmation. V didn’t say anything. Couldn’t say anything. This wasn’t happening.

“That’s the one,” Panam replied, serving food on V’s plate and glossing over her silence.

“That’s crazy!” Tama’s smile only widened, taking the spoon from Panam to dish up her own plate. The two women to either side of her started eating, along with the countless other clan members, but V could barely move.

Johnny felt something kick into gear. It was like he’d been pushed into the driver’s seat, his hand forcing V to pick up a spoon and start eating, his head making sure she was looking at people when they talked, laughing when the others laughed, remembering to breathe.

V was somewhere else. He could feel her absence. A space somewhere in their mind where she was supposed to sit. He looked for her, but only found more memories. 

Girls, three of them, all around the age of this Tama kid. They were standing around V in a semi-circle outside some divey-looking club. Johnny was off to the side again, just like when he’d seen her with Dean. She looked older now. Her eyes were sunken and her skin looked ashy. She was wearing some shitty blonde wig that washed her out even more.  

V took a drag of a cigarette, folding her arms and looking between the girls like a goddamned mother hen. They watched her every move, enraptured expressions Johnny recognized from years of working the stage. They were idolizing her.

“You girls ready?” V rasped. Johnny leaned forward to assess her neck, noting the presence of the cyberware. He wondered how old she must have been here. The girls nodded excitedly.

“We’re ready, Tina, we swear.” The one in the middle beamed like she was winning the fucking lottery.

“Alright.” V nodded solemnly, “It’s gonna be loud as fuck in there so stay close to me, I won’t be able to keep an eye on any of you. I’ll take us over to Dean and the boys, introduce you guys, and make sure you get some product, okay? After that, it’s all on you to get comfortable, you got it?”

“We got it, T, don’t worry about us.” The girls looked between themselves and back to V. Johnny had no clue what was happening here but he didn’t like how it made him feel. His confusion melded with what he guessed was V’s retrospective guilt. The combination was nauseating.

Johnny blinked and everything was different. They were in the club, crowded into a tattered booth, the music some unbearable thrashy garbage. This didn’t look like any club Johnny had ever seen in his NC days or in his time hunting with V. Atlanta. Had to be. 

V was perched on the edge of Dean’s knee, one arm around his neck and the other playing a strand of her fake straw-blonde hair. She was looking at him like he was her entire world. Johnny looked closer. She looked empty behind the eyes. He couldn’t believe this was the same firebrand he’d come to know in the time they’d shared headspace.

She was so fucking…lost.

When she turned her head back to the other girls she’d led to the booth, the light hit her face differently and Johnny saw one of her eyes was bruised. His confusion was turning to anger real fucking quick.

“Girls, this is Dean. Dean, these are the girls I was telling you about. What do you think?” Her hollow smile was so performative. Johnny could feel the façade straining against her, the guilt growing behind the mask. Dean moved a possessive hand to V’s hip, exposed between her strappy top and low-slung jeans. Looked like there was another bruise around the bone. It seemed to jut out more than Johnny thought it should.

Now that he’d noticed that, Johnny took her in from more angles. She looked gaunt all over. Not exactly at death’s door, but leagues from the health he saw in her present-day self. She seemed to wince almost imperceptibly at the strength of Dean’s clutch and Johnny had to remind himself he couldn’t actually hit this motherfucker square in the jaw.

“You know what, Tina?” Dean grumbled, “I think they’re superstars. Whatdya think, girls? Ya feel like superstars?”

The girls giggled amongst each other, preening in the dim club lighting. It reminded Johnny of the countless groupie wannabes he’d seen in his life. This memory was close to fifty years after his death and some shit still didn’t change. Scumbags were always ready to take advantage of kids who didn’t know any better.

“So, do you think these superstars could get a little taste of Ichabod’s new candy?” V winked at the girls, trailing a finger up Dean’s tattooed forearm. Dean looked to the guy sat beside him. Bastard can’t have been more than 5’9 but he was so broad he looked like a square of fatty muscle.

“Gaur?” Dean asked, “You think these nice ladies could try some candy tonight?”

The square eyed up the girls, all lined up in his booth like show dogs, before nodding to Dean.

“We’ll get some of our best supply for you fine ladies,” Gaur grinned and Johnny recoiled at the sight of his gold front teeth. “Right this way.”

Gaur stood up from the booth, guiding the three girls towards a back room behind a heavy curtain. V angled herself towards Dean, leaning her head against the side of his neck.

“How was that? Was that okay?” she asked, her voice close to shaking with uncertainty.

“Yeah, T, that was great.” Dean patted her hip bone, using his other hand to nudge her chin up and planting a kiss on her. “Another group like that and we’ll be ready to move ahead with Ichabod’s newest ideas.”

“Oh yeah?” V asked, “Did I do well enough to earn a treat tonight?”

“I think you did, T. Here.” Dean took a little baggie out of his pocket, passing it to V and ushering her off his lap so she could head to the toilets.

Johnny blinked and once again the narrative lurched forward. He was watching V hunched over, lining up neat rows of pink powder on the bathroom counter. The place was a mess, trash all over the counter and the floor, indecipherable graffiti on every surface. Johnny could even feel how sticky everything was; it should have been nostalgic to his glory days, but V’s revulsion was strong enough for them both.

She straightened up, looking at her reflection above the sink. Johnny looked too, watching her look for something he couldn’t see. Her eyes were bloodshot, some garish blue contacts covering the warm brown he knew was hidden beneath. What was she trying to find? Her gaze flicked back and forth from electric blue to electric blue. 

And then she looked at him.

Her eyes shifted in the mirror and Johnny felt rooted to the spot when she stared at him. He could feel some acknowledgement of his existence bubbling up within their shared mind. It was like she was trying to reach him through the memory. 

He said the only thing he could feel in the moment.

“You don’t want drugs. You don’t need drugs to be happy. You have never been better. You have never been better. You have never been better.”

V’s eyes flicked back to her own reflection. Johnny looked and saw himself standing beside her in the mirror. He couldn’t quite decide who he’d been talking to when he spoke. He couldn’t quite decide if either of them believed the words.

Something started to ease within him. Like a snake slowly uncoiling, V’s presence filtered back into the front of their mind. The memory cleared, making way for reality. 

V sat between Tama and Panam. She’d finished her plate. She felt satisfyingly full, like she always did after eating with family. Johnny stepped back, handing the reins back over. He didn’t say anything, just grateful to have her back in the driver’s seat, laughing and smiling all by herself.

The meal ended and the conversation shifted to how they could move forward with their plans for Anders Hellman. Johnny breathed a sigh of relief, happy to be thinking about something other than the past.

It took less than a week with the Aldecaldos for V to find herself in a fight with the Raffen Shiv.

“V! Three o’ clock!” Panam’s voice crackled through the comms in V’s ear. She turned right, throwing up her forearm to block a hit from the attacking Raffen’s machete. The blade slotted halfway into her gorilla arm, getting stuck in the mechanism and wrenching out of his hand when V pulled back. She threw her left fist to his jaw, intact gorilla arm engaged and burning, and sent him crashing to the ground. 

He was on his feet again in an instant, fists raised and ready to fight. V wrenched the machete out of her forearm, ignoring the phantom pain pulsing through her veins. Before she could raise the blade up, a bullet zipped through the air between them. It hit him square between the eyes, dropping him instantly.

“You’re welcome,” came Panam’s voice on the holo again, so annoyingly smug. V scowled, taking the opportunity to turn and throw the machete, impaling the last Raffen standing. When he didn’t go down straight away, V hit him with a hack before Panam could reload her beloved sniper. “Show off,” Panam grumbled.

“You bring it out in me,” V replied, feeling some smugness of her own. She took a moment to assess the state of her right arm. It was fucked. “Shit.”

“You hit?” Scorpion asked, brows furrowed as he approached. V shook her head, lifting the arm to show the missing paneling that had fallen out when she removed the machete.

“Nah, just kind of a…malfunction. Still hurts though. Why do they always have to put the pain receptors in there?” she grumbled, holding her other hand around the area like the pressure might help relieve the pain.

“It’s so gonks like you know it’s time to get a tune-up,” Scorpion nudged her shoulder playfully. She grinned at him despite the pain. He and Mitch always treated her like their equal, even when she didn’t want it. River probably would have worried over her in that charming way of his. Fuck, here she was thinking of him again. She was supposed to be mad at him.

‘C’mon, kid,’ Johnny fizzled into existence, following behind her as she and Scorpion moved out to meet up with Panam and Mitch. ‘You’re not mad at him. Mad at yourself, maybe, but what’s he really done to make you pissed at him? Not arrest you?’

‘Well, he didn’t do anything about Phelps,’ V grumbled internally.

‘And what was he gonna do about that creepy fuck then and there? Shoot him?’

‘Are you defending him right now?’ V quirked an eyebrow, glancing over her shoulder at Johnny. He scowled at her and she felt her stomach churning with his tumultuous feelings.

‘Are you trying to change the subject?’

They reached a stalemate. V shrugged off her end of the conversation, watching Mitch and Scorpion clamber up into Panam’s Warhorse.

“You not coming, V?” Mitch asked, leaning his arm out the car window. V shook her head, insides already protesting at the idea of bounding around the badlands in that death trap again.

“Think I’m just gonna get Delamain to take me back to NC, if that’s alright?” V held her broken arm over her forehead, shading her from the sun as she looked up at the three-headed Aldecaldo chimera.

“You don’t want our ripper to get a look at that?” Panam nodded towards the exposed wiring in her forearm. It was starting to throb.

“Got a MaxDoc on ya?” V asked. Panam nodded, passing an inhaler to Mitch who underarmed it to V. She caught it with her left hand, grateful not to have fumbled in full view of the three of them. “This’ll see me through til I can see my ripper in the city.”

“The dreamy one you like?” Scorpion asked with a smirk.

“Nah, she ate shit with him, remember?” Mitch replied, laughing. “Gotta keep up, Scorpion.”

“You can both shut up,” V interjected, taking a puff of the MaxDoc. The relief was blissfully instant. “I’m not even into him anymore.”

“Who is it now?” Panam teased, revving the Warhorse to life.

“Nobody.” V could feel her cheeks burning, instantly thinking of River. For fuck’s sake, was it really this bad?

‘Yes,’ Johnny’s voice sounded behind her.

“Shut up,” she said aloud, responding to everyone all at once. The nomads laughed amicably, though V felt like she would be justified to shoot them all just a little bit right now. 

“Alright alright, we’ll lay off you,” Panam said placatingly, “Just make sure you’re ready to go at the drop of a hat when it’s time to move in on Hellman, yeah?”

“Promise,” V replied, saluting and watching the Warhorse churn up desert sand as the Aldecaldos drove away.

V sipped her third Jackie Welles slowly, tuning out the lights and sounds of the Afterlife in favor of listening to Tiny Mike’s apologetic sweet talk.

“I had no idea he was gonna call you that, I swear, babe.” Mike rasped.

“Babe?”

“Sorry.” Tiny held his hands up defensively.

“He said I was your girl, Tiny. What the fuck is that about?” She took another sip. She didn’t usually like tequila, but she felt like she needed Jacks here to remind why she wasn’t planning on killing Tiny Mike on the spot tonight. It was a sibling thing. They were family. That had to matter.

“I know, I know. Look, I showed him a coupla stills a few times, it’s not a big deal!” Mike smiled even through his supposed ‘apology’ and V found it hard not to be charmed. Charismatic motherfucker.

“Why the hell were you showing him stills of me in the first place?” She was fighting the urge to grin back at his boyishly playful face.

“Hey, hey, hey, I have good reason,” Mike said, barely holding back laughter as he took another sip from his own cocktail.

“Can’t wait to hear it, Michael,” V replied, her sternness lasting seconds before they both laughed.

“You’re gonna gimme nightmares callin’ me that,” he beamed. “Anyway, I had to show him stills to explain where the hell I kept runnin’ off to every time you were callin’ me!”

“Oh,” V replied. That was actually a pretty valid reason.

“Yeah, oh. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it was worth it for those calls.” Tiny’s mockery didn’t go very far, if his crooked smile was any indication. He winked, taking a final sip and standing to head to the bar. “Another one on me?”

“Sure, thanks, Tiny,” V replied, feeling relieved to be done with her work for today. By the time she was back in her apartment, Tiny was calling, desperate to see her to thank her and apologize for his brother’s behavior. She quickly showered, changed into her latest Jinguji purchase, and hit the streets.

Tiny came back with their drinks, sitting beside her rather than across from her as he had been. He nudged her arm when he sat down, nodding to the shitty patch-job she’d done on it since her Raffen run-in earlier.

“You not seen your ripper for that?” he asked.

“Nah, not ready for the disciplining I’ll get for being so reckless just yet, thank you,” V replied, clinking her glass with Tiny’s and taking a sip. The tequila was hitting pretty nice by now. Between that and the MaxDoc from Panam, she could barely feel the pain in her taped-up arm anymore.

“I see how it is, you can dish it out but you just can’t take it, huh?” They shared another affectionate smile and V couldn’t ignore the excitement bubbling up within her. Who cares if River fucked it up with her? She didn’t need him. Tiny would do whatever she wanted and could make jokes about it too. Plus they were both mercs. No conflict of interests there.

Johnny’s voice scoffed in her head somewhere and the man himself appeared on the other side of their table. V raised an eyebrow at him in silent question, tilting her head in his direction. Johnny huffed before responding.

‘C’mon, V, stop acting like you care more about this little pup than that beefcake cop,’ he said. V almost wanted to laugh at his choice of words, but her stomach started churning with thoughts of River. He’d pissed her off so much when they last saw each other and hadn’t even tried to contact her in the week or so since, not even to apologize.

So why was she still thinking about him all the time?

‘Why do you think?’ Johnny interjected. V thought about his words, about River, about Fornido for some reason. She thought about the fluttery feeling she got in her stomach when she looked at the plushie’s big pink nose.

“Wanna dance?” Tiny spoke up, bringing V back to the moment. The dance floor looked crowded, maybe people wouldn’t even notice her dancing with him. Then again, maybe he’d get the wrong idea about these drinks in general if she danced with him in public.

“Why don’t you go warm up the dance floor and I’ll think about if I wanna join you?” V replied, smiling around the rim of her glass before swallowing another generous sip. Tiny Mike nodded, grinning still, and gleefully made his way to the flock of dancers. He immediately started dancing with the first person he saw, effortlessly making friends and having a blast without her.

V watched him, jealous of how happy he looked until her holo pinged in her hand. Shit. A message from River. How was that possible?

‘You never actually blocked him, you know?’ Johnny supplied smugly from across the table, leaning over to look at the message.

‘Well shit,’ Johnny huffed, ‘If that ain’t good old-fashioned fate.’

‘Shut up. It is not fate,’ V replied, her stomach already twisting and churning unbearably.

‘Well what the hell else is it? C’mon, let’s go upstairs and say hi.’ Johnny’s visage stood and started walking away. V typed out a quick reply, just about buzzed enough to avoid overthinking it.

River looked at his phone in disbelief. No way was she here. She hadn’t just replied to him agreeing to come see him. That wasn’t right, surely. But no, the message didn’t disappear or change no matter how many times he closed it and opened it again.

Shit.

She really was here. She’d be here, standing in this parking lot with him, in a matter of minutes. Jesus why hadn’t he done more to look better. He quickly turned to the Bella Blanca, carefully driven and parked here to his own great discomfort. He bent at the waist to look at his reflection in the window, at least hoping he looked neat if not great.

“Detective.” There was her voice, the voice he’d heard in his head at night every day for the last week. River stood stock straight, turning to face her. To say he wasn’t prepared for what he saw would be an understatement.

She was wearing a strapless dress that went down to her knees, accented with a holographic design that sent his eyes in all directions. It was a glowing white color, with two red asian-style dragons winding around her body, their heads meeting at the neckline. The dragons bobbed in a flowing motion like parade floats, and River had no idea if she was actually moving or if he was just imagining it as he stared.

“V,” he managed to say, though it felt like a battle to get sound out of his mouth. He wasn’t sure if she had come up just to cuss him out or if she was actually going to listen and help him at all. She smiled as she got closer and he nearly fell to his knees at the sight. Her eyes shifted past him, her jaw going slack at what she saw.

“Is that Bella Blanca?” she asked, walking over to the car and placing a hand reverently on its roof. River watched her eyes widen and shine as she walked around the MaiMai, glancing back at him when he didn’t answer her.

“Uh, yeah, yeah it is. I uh, had the lab look at it. Came back clean so, it’s all yours,” he stumbled through the sentence, still trying to gauge if she was about to hack his cyberware. She came to a slow stop in front of him, still eyeing the spotless paint and body work of the car.

“What do I owe for the repairs?” she asked skeptically. 

“Nothing,” River shrugged. Before she could ask any questions, he forged ahead. “V, I wanted to apologize for how I acted last time we met. I know I wasn’t my best self, and I let you down. I’m sorry.”

She eyed him cautiously and he took a moment to be grateful that she didn’t appear to have any weapons.

“Let me get this straight. I’m not paying a dime for the extensive repairs to my car and you’re apologizing to me? Are you trying to flirt with me, River?” she giggled to herself, taking a step closer to him. River couldn’t resist smiling back at her, a tsunami of relief coursing through him at her good mood. 

“If I was trying to flirt with you, I’d tell you how fantastic that dress is,” he replied, praying he was on the right track with his interpretation of her energy. Her smile widened, almost that grin he fell asleep thinking about each night. She took another small step toward him, slowly turning in a circle so he could see her from all angles.

“It’s my latest and greatest. You like the holographics?” she asked, looking at him with gray doe eyes.

“It’s amazing. Can’t help but think it’d be distracting blasting out light from the closet, though,” he replied, suddenly considering the reality of the dress. V laughed lightly, bringing him back to the fun he was supposed to be having.

“I can turn the hologram off.” Her expression twisted into something darker, one eyebrow raising and her smile sharpening. “But, then it would just be a skin-tight see-through dress.”

Her voice dripped with playful seduction as she crossed her arms just under her chest. River’s mouth ran dry trying to picture how that would look without the holographic dragon heads. Something caught River’s eye, however, and his brain quickly scrambled out of the gutter to express his concern.

“V, what happened to your arm? Your ripper didn’t patch you like that, right?” He almost reached out to touch the tape keeping one of her forearms together but stopped himself. He was still unsure if she had forgiven him. She looked down at her arm and waved her hand dismissively.

“Of course not, silly. Had a little dust-up in the desert today, just patched it myself for the time being.” Her eyes shifted around his face, settling on his lips for a moment in a kind of haze before drifting back up to his eyes. Her wandering looks boosted his confidence.

“That’s your fine work, is it? I can see why you’re a merc and not a ripper.” River’s smile broadened when V playfully slapped his arm, taking the opportunity to shift closer to her at the contact. She smelled like tequila and perfume.

"Oh yeah?” she laughed. “And what back-alley chop-doc brutalized your pretty face like that?" She gestured to the excessive scarring around his optic. River grimaced, but embraced the opportunity to share more of himself with the woman who had come to consume so much of his mind.

"Uhm, I did," he replied, dutifully ignoring the fluttery feeling he got anytime she called him pretty.

"You did that? To yourself?" Her eyes were wide as saucers. River’s skin almost itched under her intense scrutiny. "You performed self surgery for an eye implant?"

"I know it's not great work - I was panicking. I was only thirteen. I'd been living with a patch for four years before that, and I just wanted it in there without having to go to a doc." River felt like he was rambling, but it was worth it when her face softened with sympathy.

"Shit, River," she whispered huskily.

"Yeah. I passed out pretty quick, not before completely fucking my face, of course. Woke up the next day with it installed and had to clean the doc's shop every night for three months to pay for the work. My sister had convinced one of the orphanage workers to drive me there."

"Shit." River wondered if was giving too much of himself away. He didn’t want her to pity him. Probably shouldn’t have told her about the orphanage. He hung his head, not sure what else to say.

"Yeah," he offered awkwardly. V’s heart was racing with this new information. She suddenly felt a lot less buzzed. They had a lot more in common than she’d ever anticipated. She didn’t know what to say, but she wasn’t enjoying the guilt building within her. A slideshow of memories of all the times she’d made some snarky comment about his eye wouldn’t stop playing in her mind. The weighted silence hung between them, pulling them slightly closer from the tension.

"Sorry, River," V finally croaked. River’s head snapped up to look at her watery gray eyes.

"What for?" His eyebrows arched up in surprise at her suddenly gentle voice and warm tone.

"Sorry for all the shit I give you 'bout your eye," she mumbled, looking down at her pristine white high heel, absently moving a crumpled soda can around. He felt warmth in his belly swell as he watched her shrink into herself. Guilty V was very cute indeed. It was an enormous relief to see his gatita again.

"Don't be," he said, reaching a hand out. He wanted to touch her so badly, pull her into his arms and smell her hair. He lightly patted her shoulder before bringing his hand back. Better to play it safe. "I like takin' shit from you."

She looked up at him through dark eyelashes and he thought about how they might feel against his face. A sly smile grew across her face and his heart skipped a couple of beats.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah, makes me feel special." He felt heat climb up his neck and hoped it didn't show on his face.

"Well," she started quietly, taking a considered step toward him and reaching a hand out to lightly stroke the fur lining of his coat collar. "Maybe you are special."

"Must be," he murmured, wishing he hadn't worn his coat so she'd have to touch him properly. "If you're talkin' to me."

V's smile grew into her signature grin and it hit him like buckshot. Her chrome-colored eyes seemed to light up under his gaze, that sparkling shimmer in their depths drawing him in. His arms nearly shook with the tension forcing them to stay at his sides and not reach for her hips.

“Can I make it up to you?” V asked, her grip turning firm on his coat. He would have agreed to anything she wanted for as long as she looked at him like that. So soft and sweet. He nodded, unable to speak. “Can I help you with whatever you pinged me about?”

“Right.” Right, he’d asked her to meet him. “Well, first off I wanted to make sure I gave you the keys to Bella Blanca myself. Didn’t want to leave it to the folks at the lab.”

He fished the fob out of his pocket and held it out to her. Some unique kind of pride swelled up in him when she kept one hand on his collar, using the other to take the fob. Their fingers touched and lingered. He thought about holding her hand, but didn’t want to push his luck. 

“Thank you,” she said so softly, her eyes looking at his hands, his chest, his neck. River had missed her mouth. “What else?”

“Uh,” River stalled, trying to remember anything before he’d seen her appear in this dress. “It’s about the job you helped me with, with Regina Jones and that drug lab in Watson.”

That seemed to shock her out of her trance, her eyes becoming sharp and focused on him. When she spoke again her voice was clearer, more serious.

“What do you need?”

“Do you know Mike Kowalski?” River asked, quickly adding, “Regina mentioned he’d worked a similar job for her. She said you might be able to make a connection with him.”

V barked out a laugh, using the hand on his coat to land another playful slap, this time on his chest.

“Do I know Tiny fucking Mike Kowalski?” She took a step back, turning in a circle before facing him again with a smile, shaking her head to herself. “Motherfucking fate, River Ward. That’s what this is. I’m here with Tiny tonight. Hang on, I’ll send him a message, tell him to come up.”

Her eyes flashed blue as she sent a message to Mike Kowalski. River had to take another moment. Shit, things were moving fast tonight. He supposed he should be happy. V wasn’t mad, in fact if anything she seemed happy to see him. And she was hooking him up with a contact that could further his progress. Something about it still didn’t feel great though.

“Thanks, V. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me with this.”

“It’s like I told you, this is important to me. I care a lot about it.” She stepped close to him again, speaking quietly and looking at his pendant. “Care a lot about a lotta stuff.”

“I’m grateful,” River replied. He wanted to say something but he was certain he’d get it wrong and undo whatever was working for them right now.

“What else?” V asked.

“Huh?” 

“What else can I do for you?”

“You really don’t ha-”

“I want to apologize as well,” she interrupted, pulling on the collars of his coat to bring him closer. “I’m sorry for overreacting. I know I wasn’t exactly being reasonable. I was just stressed out about everything in the moment. Can I take you out for some drinks? To make up for it?”

Shit, there were her eyes again, looking up at him and holding him. How could he have said anything else?

“Of course, when?”

“When are you free?” She smiled sweetly, stepping from foot to foot as the adrenaline ramped up. He said yes. She felt Johnny’s indignation within her screaming, of course he did, kid.

“I’ll be free whenever you need me,” River replied. “Can I take you to the Soul Cellar downtown?”

“I thought I was trying to buy you drinks?” she chuckled. He smiled back at her, lightheaded with whatever the hell was happening.

“You can buy me drinks when I take you out to the Soul Cellar, agreed?” 

“You’ve got a deal, detective,” she replied, stepping away from him at the sound of someone noisily vacating the Afterlife over River’s shoulder. River turned to see ‘Tiny’ Mike Kowalski heading towards them. 

Mike Kowalski wasn’t tiny, but he wasn’t huge either. He seemed average sized, lean and muscular like a lot of young gangers that came up on the streets of NC. His crop of blonde hair was tied in a topknot and his jaw reflected the neon lighting outside the club. The merc walked up to stand beside V with a smile on his face like he was the luckiest bastard alive. Considering he had just been clubbing with la tigresa, that seemed about right.

“Tiny,” V said, smiling at him. “This is detective River Ward, say hello.”

The blonde merc turned to him, offering a handshake as his smile firmed out to something more serious.

“Detective,” he said, nodding curtly. River nodded back, looking at their briefly joined hands. He glimpsed Tiny Mike’s other hand. A modern cyberarm. His jaw clenched and he fought his own grip to keep his chrome hand in check. “What’s this about?”

River looked back to Mike’s eyes. The man was clearly several drinks deep, in the middle of a good night on the town with V of all people. There was a flicker of something smug in his eyes that made River’s stomach clench. He was good-looking, in a fairly conventional way. Had a complete set of organic eyes and even his cyberarm matched his skin tone well.

V must have noticed River staring, stepping slightly closer to the two of them and placing a hand on each of them to steer the conversation.

“River wanted to talk to you about a job you did for Regina recently.” Her voice brought him back to the moment. Her hand on his arm made his mouth twitch up at the corners. Her other hand on Tiny Mike’s cyberarm reminded him of the handcuff pic she’d sent to him weeks ago and suddenly his jaw was tightening all over again. “Right, detective?”

“That’s right,” he nodded. “She said you worked a job clearing out a Watson drug den. Some new party drug imitation?”

“Right,” Mike replied, “Reggie sent me to some shitty apartment complex on the north side. Place was already cleared out when I got there, but they left plenty of shit behind.”

“Any samples?” River asked.

“Nah, but a bunch of equipment. Blood too. Way too much blood. If they’d all been killed by the competition I’d get it, but there were no bodies. These guys had cleared shop. No samples, no comms, nothing in storage. But blood on just about every fucking surface.”

“No bodies anywhere?” V interjected. She felt a chill come over her, picturing a drug lab like the one she’d infiltrated for River. There was blood there too. Not lots of blood, but it stood out to her. She remembered the message Regina sent about finding some interesting ingredients in the samples she’d found.

“I mean, there were bodies,” Tiny replied, “Just two civilians. They were on tables like how Scavs sometimes store them. Been dead at least a few days when I got there, sliced across the jugular and bled out.”

“So, it was their blood everywhere?” River asked.

“Nah,” Mike shook his head. “They looked drained. Buckets under the tables had blood traces in ‘em. The blood everywhere else was different. Came up different on my scans. It wasn’t bucket’s worth. More like traces, just all over. Just the same as a job I did last week for Wakko.”

“Wakko?” River asked, looking to V for guidance.

“Wakako Okada,” V supplied, “Owns Westbrook’s merc circle. If anything like this was happening in her turf, she knows more about it than any of us.”

“Do you think you could get me a meeting with her?” River asked Mike. He felt V’s hand grip his coat sleeve a little tighter and glanced her way. She had a thousand yard stare, shifting nervously and stepping closer to him. Without thinking, he lifted a hand to place it on her back, offering some kind of support. If Tiny Mike noticed, he didn’t say anything. Just nodded his head.

“Yeah, shouldn’t be a problem. Don’t know how much she’ll say to a cop, but I’ll set something up,” he replied.

“I appreciate it,” River said. He didn’t want to advertise that he wasn’t exactly working with the NCPD right now, especially not in front of this merc he was meeting for the first time. V stepped away from River, bringing Tiny Mike into a hug and patting his back affectionately. 

“Thanks, Tiny. It means a lot to me,” she mumbled. River watched as Mike Kowalski’s hands came to V’s lower back, almost on her hips, holding her close for the embrace. The merc’s cyber arm had a firm hold on her. River wondered if Tiny Mike had helped fix the last dress he’d seen V wearing with that cyber arm. He wondered what else that arm had gripped.

“Anytime,” he replied, grinning like an idiot. They separated and V turned back to face River. She put a hand on his shoulder and River had to bite back some bitter comment about how platonic she was acting. After flirting with him and asking him out for drinks she was going to pat him like a colleague?

“I hope we helped you, detective.” She spoke softly at least, her eyes still shimmering in the way that made him weak at the knees. He smiled at her and watched her own mouth turn up into a kind expression. Her cheeks were dusted with a dark pink color. Fuck, he wanted to take a picture of her looking at him like that.

“You always do, tigresa,” he replied. Before she could turn away from him, he took her hand from his shoulder and brought it to his lips for a brief kiss. “Thank you, V. I’ll pick you up for our date at seven tomorrow?”

Her eyes widened, her mouth slightly agape watching him hold her hand against his chest. River glanced behind her to see Tiny Mike’s eyebrows raised before the merc turned to face away from them. Watch her explain that. The jealous thought crept to the forefront of his mind and he couldn’t hold back a smug smile at how V looked so cute and flustered.

“Uh, yeah,” she replied, putting herself back together quick enough to flash him another grin, “Tomorrow night’s perfect. I look forward to it, River.”

Ahh, there was that sound again. Rivurr. He’d missed it more than he could explain. He slowly let go of her hand, taking a few backwards steps before offering a small wave.

“Have a great night, V,” he smiled, remembering to add as an afterthought, “Nice to meet you, Mike. Thanks for your help.”

“Yeah, sure,” the merc replied, waving half-heartedly before turning back to the club. River turned away from them, heading out of the parking lot to go back to his apartment and make more notes on the case. 

V watched him go. When he was out of sight, she looked down at the fob for Bella Blanca in her hand. The MaiMai looked brand new, better than it had when she bought it. She popped the driver’s side door and got in, smiling at the seat being as far from the wheel as possible. He must have driven it here himself.

Reaching over, she popped open the glovebox. Vaquera was right where V left her. She reached out and grabbed the pistol, turning it over in her hands to make sure nothing was different. But something was different. He’d cleaned it. V’s smile cracked into a quiet laugh, her heart soaring.

She put the gun away and headed back to the Afterlife, feeling lighter than she had for a long time.

‘I can’t believe you’re going on a date with a cop,' Johnny complained from beside her. V could feel their shared adrenaline and excitement churning through her and grinned at his rolling eyes. She was going on a date with a cop, and all she could think was finally.

Chapter Text

“So,” Tiny Mike began, looking at V pointedly, cocktail glass mid-journey to his mouth, “what the fuck was all that?”

“All what?” V replied, taking her seat opposite him at the table and sipping on the remaining dregs of her Jackie Welles. Johnny’s visage sat beside Tiny and V got the unique pleasure of watching them scoff in synchrony at her play at ignorance.

“All what? All that, that cutesy shit with the cop.” Tiny’s cyberarm flailed dramatically towards the Afterlife stairway over V’s shoulder. “You dating that guy?”

“Wouldn’t call it dating,” V shrugged. Internally, her intestines felt like they’d grown fur, writhing uncomfortably and excitingly and impossible-to-ignoringly.

“He literally said ‘I’ll pick you up for our date at seven’.” Tiny’s impersonation wasn’t exactly flattering, crudely fishing an ice cube from his glass and screwing it into one eye socket, but he managed to capture the detective’s unique gravelly-ness fairly well.

“I’m going on a date with him.” V smiled, turning her head as if this conversation was uninteresting. Johnny scoffed again, crossing his arms and shaking his head, likely fully aware of the adrenaline coursing through her at voicing such a sentence.

“I didn’t realize you were open to dates.” Tiny threw the rest of his drink back and let the glass thunk heavily into the tabletop. “‘Specially not dates with cops.”

“He’s a valuable contact to have.” V gestured with her hand like this much should be obvious to anyone. Johnny laughed, catching her attention.

‘Regina Jones, when did you get here?’ he snarked. V recoiled at the comparison, it felt like being told she was like her aunty, or her mother. ‘You are like your mother,’ Johnny interjected. She didn’t need to point out her lack of a real mother to know exactly what he meant.

‘I am not like Mama Welles.’

‘Tell yourself that if it helps,’ he shrugged, kicking back in his chair to cross his ankles on the tabletop. Tiny Mike’s energized shuffling brought V’s attention back to his restless hands, currently tapping mercilessly on the same tabletop.

“So,” he screwed his eyes closed as if trying to work out some impossible algorithm, “you’re just going on one date with this guy to keep him happy as a contact?”

“Of course.” V could feel an all-too familiar discomfort coiling up within her. Guilt. She didn’t want to lie to Tiny, but she didn’t want to hurt him either, and she definitely didn’t want word to spread about the date in the Afterlife of all places.

“V,” Tiny replied, letting the silence afterward linger for far too long.

“What?”

“V.”

“What.”

“I mean, I’m no - whoever-the-fuck, Sherlock-fuckin-Holmes - but I didn’t exactly miss him plantin’ one on your hand before he left.” He lifted his hand, one finger gently accusing in V’s direction. “And I saw how you were looking at him.”

“And how, exactly, was I looking at him, Tiny?” V’s hand buzzed with the memory of River’s lips on her skin, or maybe it was the drinks, either way she fought to keep it from her face.

“Like…like, like he was a fuckin’ hero.” Tiny blinked a few times, looking to some distant spot before coming back to the room. “Not that I can blame you, to be honest. Where’re they making guys like him anyway? Looks like he came out of a box.”

“What do you mean?” V laughed, unable to contain it at the mental image of a slab of black packing foam with a River-shaped indent in the middle.

“What do you mean, what do I mean? He’s fucking huge for one, plus that face? Sure it’s all gonked on that one eye but that kinda completes the package am I wrong?”

“Wow, Tiny, maybe it’s you that wants a date with the detective.”

“I’m just saying, if it’s more than just a contact thing I get it. Man looks like a superhero, clearly thinks the sun shines out your ass, and he seems like an actually decent person too. Must be pretty hard for a single gal in this city of all places, not sure you’d do better than that on these streets.”

“Well,” V hesitated, not sure how to feel about this change of tone. She suddenly wasn’t sure whether she should double down on the contact cover or just come clean. Johnny cleared his throat, bringing his feet back under him and leaning forward to her across the table.

‘Just tell the poor bastard,’ he hooked his thumb in Tiny’s direction, the merc himself looking to the empty bottom of his glass seemingly for some kind of wisdom. ‘He’s a grown man, he’ll be fine without you: cut him loose. Besides, you just saved his brother’s life, not like he can get mad about it now.’

Johnny was right. V hated it when Johnny was right. Didn’t stop it from happening though, once in a blue moon.

“Well, to be honest, Tiny, he’s not a contact. Not just a contact, anyway.”

“You’re actually dating the guy?”

“I’m going on a date with him, yeah. It’ll be the first.” She stopped herself to avoid over-elaboration. Tiny didn’t need to know that this would be her first first date in years. Her first first date ever, in a lot of ways.

“Damn,” Tiny smirked, a small smile already playing on his thin lips. “Lucky son of a bitch. Well he’d better earn it, V, that’s all I’m saying.”

“You’re not…upset?”

“Why would I be upset?” Tiny’s eyebrows raised.

“I mean, I probably won’t have time for what we usually do. Did.” Her response seemed like a surprise to Tiny, though he quickly shook it off and started nodding to himself like it was actually the only thing that made sense.

“That’s fair, that’s fair. Don’t worry about it, V. I know what we had ain’t exactly a relationship. Sure, I had a great fucking time with you, and it was sweet getting my brother to think you were my girl, but I knew you never were. I know I don’t know you, not any kinda real you anyway. Don’t get me wrong, I know I didn’t try to get to know you either. That’s on me.” 

V didn’t know what to say. Before she could attempt anything, Tiny took one of her hands in his and gave it a small squeeze. She looked up at him, he looked friendlier and more genuine than she’d ever seen. 

“Besides, V. You never looked at me the way I saw you look at him. And, you know I woulda looked at you however you told me to, but I’m guessing you didn’t have to tell that guy a thing to get him lookin’ at you all starry like that.”

V’s smile spread without her permission, picturing River’s face kissing her hand, holding it against his pounding chest. Tiny Mike let go of her hand, nodding as though her smile had said it all, and in a way she supposed it had. 

“You know the worst part, though?” Tiny asked, leaning back in his chair and laughing to himself. “I’m gonna have to work overtime to afford a doll that’ll be as mean to me as you were, V.”

V laughed as well, easily, happily, feeling lighter than air. When she finished her drink, she hauled herself out to Bella Blanca, slapped it in auto and let it take her home. She took her time in the shower, treating herself to a hair mask and just about every lotion she owned - she had a date tomorrow to be ready for after all.

By the time she was settling into bed, she had three messages on her phone.

Her stomach started turning thinking of that stupid fucking club. She tried to push away the feeling, telling herself she was overreacting or just plain wrong. Just because she knew they were in Night City didn’t mean they were behind Akuma specifically, right? A skeptical huff from somewhere within her voiced Johnny’s thoughts on the issue. But what did he know? He didn’t know them. 

She replied to the messages one at a time, doing her best to sound grateful, flirtatious, and excited respectively. As V closed her eyes to sleep, her skin crept with the fear of a rough night ahead.

Stuck in the endless corridors of V’s mind, rest was never an option for Johnny. Swirls of red and purple bloomed in his vision at the memories of seeing River again, his voice, his face, the way his ‘ganic eye seemed to shine for just a second before he turned away from her. All too quickly, the fizzing rush of her feelings for him melted away into another slew of memories from her past life in Atlanta.

The club was the same shithole he’d seen the last time he was thrown into her mind’s darkest corners. The same graffiti, the same mystery stick on every surface, the same godawful fucking music pounding away in the background. V looked the same as well, maybe a new shiner darkening her eye socket. She stood at the bar, one hand around a dirty glass of something dark and looking like she was trying to be invisible.

This cowering shadow was nothing like the woman he’d come to know, the one who prowled bars hunting for prey in the form of willing partners who’d bend over backwards at her word. How did she get so powerful?

Somebody shoulder-checked her reaching for their drinks at the bar and she flinched like a war vet, pulling herself in even smaller. Just as Johnny was beginning to wonder why the fuck he was seeing this, Dean made an appearance at the bar. Although V watched him from behind a curtain of fake blonde hair, he ignored her entirely. He was with a girl, looked like one of the teens V was bringing in by the pack from what he could tell. One of Dean’s tattooed arms was around her shoulders, loosely guiding her to the bar itself.

“Get this little lady a tall glass of whatever she wants,” he hollered over the din of drums and guitar. V turned slightly for a better angle as the girl took a sip of whatever fruity cocktail Dean had just bought for her. Dean laughed, the girl raising a questioning eyebrow in response.

“What?” she asked, smiling at Dean just the same as how V did in that early memory Johnny saw, when Dean picked her up for pizza. Johnny felt sick, unsure whether it was coming from V’s stomach or his own.

“Nothing, it’s just…” They both watched as Dean raised a hand, gently touching the girl’s chin. “They don’t make ‘em like you anymore.”

A flood of boiling heat rushed through Johnny as the scene fell apart before him. There was V, stumbling back to their shithole apartment, face wet with tears. There she was tearing through their things, finding a kit bag and using her teeth to tighten a tourniquet around her arm. There was the vial of syrupy red liquid, the needle, the plunger, the instant relief. Johnny heard a shaky sigh before everything went black.

“It’s gonna be okay, Tina.” Johnny heard, sounded like Dean. Still no visual.

“Why did you let her use that much?” Another voice. Some kind of accent, sounded distantly Nigerian, not a voice he’d heard in her other memories but he could take a pretty decent guess at who it could be based on the way she’d reacted to those messages on Big Pete’s computer the other week. Ichabod Adebayo.

“I didn’t.” Dean again. “She was alone, I didn’t know she knew where my stash was.”

“You left her alone?”

“Yes, Bod, she’s not a fucking toddler. I thought she’d be fine.”

“You have never valued her enough.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it, I’m a lucky guy, she’s a fuckin’ superstar, your favorite subject, whatever. Fix her.”

“Why? So you can break her again?”

“I didn’t fucking break her! Help her, man, I think she OD’d!”

“She’ll be fine, I know how to help her. It will cost you.” Johnny felt the sensation of his arm being lifted, something cold pressed against the crook of his elbow. Another needle.

“Whatever it takes, I don’t care about the eds.”

“I’m not talking about money. Let me-” Like that, all sound cut out. Nothing but blackness.

The next thing Johnny saw was three red dots, glowing in the dark in a vague triangle formation. He looked down and saw his body laid flat on an operating table, naked and cold. An incision was sewn along the bottom of his abdomen, burning and red. No, not his abdomen. Her abdomen.

Johnny blinked and he was in the apartment again, pressing one busted hand down into the middle of a dirty pillow. There was too much movement under it. His other hand twitched and he was suddenly aware of the weight of the gun. He pushed the barrel in the space between his thumb and his index finger and closed his eyes.

River Ward woke before the sun. He had been a heavy sleeper at one point in his life. Growing up on the farm, his parents used to laugh when he slept through a thunderstorm or an earthquake. It stopped being funny the night he was dragged, half-asleep, from his bed by two desperate addicts breaking into the family store. After seeing what his parent’s brains looked like with holes blown through them, he lost that trait.

These days, a car horn filtering up from the street below his apartment was enough to make his eyelid twitch open. Today, at least, he had a good reason to wake up so early. After seeing V outside the Afterlife last night, he’d barely been able to sleep at all. Through the night, he was tortured with images of her in that dress, desperate depictions of what it would look like without the hologram, how it felt when he placed his hand on her back, or when she gripped his coat collars, or when he kept a hold on her hand against his chest.

Shit, he was in deep. He should have been panicking, filled with dread at how he’d managed to find himself so compromised against her knees and her hair and the stud beneath her lips. And yet, the first emotion that filtered through his conscious mind was excitement. They were going on a date. 

A real date. Not an accidentally-meet-in-a-burned-out-warehouse date or a ‘accidentally’-meet-in-a-coffee-shop-and-break-in-to-a-drug-den date. A real date, with drinks, and music, and maybe even dancing, or kissing. Fuck. The excitement toed closer to the line of dread at the idea that he might finally get to kiss her tonight. What if he fucked it up? What if she didn’t like the way he kissed her? When was the last time he even kissed anyone? Probably Yawen that time in the storage closet at work, shit that was a mistake. What if V ended up thinking tonight was a mistake?

Okay, Ward, can’t beat yourself up like this all damn day. He figured it would be best if he found something to fill the time. After some morning stretches and a shower - his lower back was still trying to give him hell - he sat at his slim desk and reviewed his mountainous case notes so far.

Sanguine, the newest designer drug in Night City, was being distributed mainly through high-end corpo clubs downtown. Its first official appearance was hard to pin down, but it seemed like it only cropped up within the last three or four months. It was expensive, not something the everyday scop-consumer used to get a quick buzz. From what he could understand, it seemed like it gave a long-lasting high that was perfectly smooth, hence the exclusivity.

The biggest hub of Sanguine-related business was coming out of Akuma, the newest jewel in the city’s crown of drug-backed nightlife. So far, River had only pinned down Phelps, the young asian man, and possibly the blonde woman as creators/providers of the high. Perhaps today he could learn more. He thumbed through the stills he’d managed to grab and print. 

One of the asian man smoking by the club’s back door. One of him climbing into Phelps’ car. The window tint made it impossible to make out Phelps in the driver’s seat. He’d have to figure something else out for that. One of the woman, walking away from the club in the early hours, just after dawn. He had a few of her; she’d been the easiest to tail.

Her descending to the metro substation. Her sat on the train. Her emerging and navigating Little China, close to the megabuilding where V lived. Her entering a store, a store he had seen before. Misty’s Esoterica and Chakra Harmonization. The same store he’d watched V stroll into that very first time he saw her after they first met. 

That brought him to the last picture he had. The one he’d taken from Bella Blanca when he was cleaning her out. He felt guilty that he’d kept it, but he tried to stave off that feeling by reminding himself that he was technically using it for evidence. This woman could be involved in some way. The fact that he now had a physical image of V’s smile in his possession that he could look at whenever he wanted had nothing to do with it.

Focus on the case, Ward.

He’d trailed this woman from Akuma’s back doors to Misty’s Esoterica the last three dawns. Perhaps today was the time to approach her for questioning. He didn’t want to believe she was involved in this, but he couldn’t rule it out. She seemed like the easiest approach for some friendly, open questions. What does she do at Akuma? What does she sell in that store? How does she know V? What kind of food does V like to eat?

He allowed himself one more moment of weakness, staring into the picture, trying to iron out the creases for a better look at V’s face. Was it too early to message her about tonight? She would definitely still be asleep, that or she hadn’t even gone to bed yet. It was, however, the right time to start heading out. He’d catch the blonde woman on her way out of Akuma, she should be leaving in the next forty minutes if the last three days were any decent indicator.

Zips Sips was a 24hr coffee shop just a half-block down from Akuma. Zips was small, more of a hole-in-the-wall joint for the interns of every corpo house downtown so they could run errands through each concurrent variety of eighteen-hour-long shift. River didn’t stand out, sat in a corner, eyes focused out the glass storefront where he could make out the side doors for Akuma.

04:56.

She should be out soon. He sipped his coffee slowly, letting the steam rise up his face a little. He hoped the heat could soothe the dull aching of his eyes, organic and cybernetic both - neither one appreciated being up this early. The sky behind Akuma was beginning to pale, the earliest signs of the day showing through. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to wait long.

He checked the time again when his coffee mug was empty, wondering if he’d drank it quicker than he usually did. 

05:17.

Apparently not. She’d never been this late out. The sky was turning pink all around Akuma. Traffic was starting to pick up, even the endless stream of interns had started talking again, activated by the increasing light like twittering birds. He ordered another cup. She was probably just held up, talking to somebody, maybe cleaning, if that’s what she did. Last night could have been messy.

05:48.

She had to still be in there. He’d trailed her from when she closed up shop at the esoterica last night around 9:30. She’d gone straight there. He didn’t follow her in, didn’t dare go within view of the security cams knowing Phelps had a hand in whatever was going on, but he’d seen her go in and he hadn’t seen her leave before he went to see V. She can’t have left in the time since then; it had been a busy night for the club, some live band event. Surely they’d needed her, whatever it was she was doing.

Another cup. She’d be coming out by the time he’d finished another, agonizingly slow, cup.

06:43.

Nothing. The stream of interns had become more of a flash flood and still nothing had happened. River hadn’t seen the woman leave Akuma, hadn’t seen anyone else leave. Nobody had entered or approached the building, Phelps’ car hadn’t even passed by at a suspiciously slow speed, as he’d noted a few other times in the past. What the hell was going on?

River’s stomach growled. One more coffee and a pastry could buy him another ninety valid minutes of just being a regular customer. Nothing suspicious about four coffees and a pastry through a two-hour window. At least, nothing that would make any of the overworked Zips employees bat an eye; they probably averaged that amount every thirty minutes. 

He ate his pastry roughly one bite every minute or two, trying to stretch it out as long as possible. One part of his brain stayed on the alert for any messages from V. He had no idea what kind of time she’d wake up or when they should talk or who should talk to who first, but anxiety and excitement were both growing with the pink hue of the young day.

8:27.

Something was up. Had to be. Why had she still not come out? He’d have to approach. Right? If he was in active service right now he wouldn’t hesitate to at least perform a welfare check. Could easily call in some low-level back-up, keep things from escalating or looking too suspicious. But he was suspended. Alone against an enemy he knew almost nothing about and everything he did know was bad.

All that aside, he didn’t exactly know who to call in at a time like this anyway. Wasn’t worth dragging Jiminez into this and risk getting her suspended as well. Hanson was no good, too close to Phelps anyway. Obviously couldn’t trust Han. V was the most likely candidate, close to the only person he felt he could count on right now. Hell of a way to kick a date off almost twelve hours early. No, he couldn’t ask V. But maybe when they met up he could ask her about this woman. Could probably get some valuable intel.

08:32. Nothing else to do but try and get closer. River left Zips desperately needing to piss and practically squirming with a lethal adrenaline-caffeine combo. Walking the half-block down the street to the club, he had to squint several times to keep the pink-orange laser of the morning sun from blinding him as it beamed between buildings. No signs of her, right the way down the block.

He reached the other side of the street, hesitating again. How should he approach this? Concerned citizen? But, concerned for what? Nosy neighbor? Maybe he was at the club last night and he lost his phone. He was wondering if anyone had handed it in. That was innocent enough. 

River made it all of one foot off the curb before his phone rang. The contact came through on his optic: Jiminez. Not likely to be a social call at this time. Not that she’d ever made a social call to him. Stepping back onto the curb, he answered.

“Jiminez?”

“Sir,” she began, “I heard about your suspension. That’s bullshit, sir.”

“You can probably just call me River now, Jiminez. ‘Preciate the support.”

“Thank you, sir.” Apparently she wasn’t going to stop with that. “I actually called about something else, though.”

“What’s up?”

“Got a call through about some vandalism, buncha kids around The Pound spraying their tags everywhere? They didn’t mention him by name but I thought it sounded a bit like-”

“Randy,” River concluded, practically hearing Jiminez nodding down the line. “I’ll head there now, thanks for looking out. Keep your head down now, okay? Don’t need you getting dragged down with me.”

“Sir-” River cut her off, already hearing the argument building up within her.

“You’re a good cop, Jiminez. Night City needs you now. I’ll feel a lot better about my suspension if I know you’re still on the force scoping things out.”

“Alright,” she relented with a sigh. “I’ll call again if I need to, sir.”

“Deal. Talk later.” He ended the call with one last look across the street. Still no sign of the blonde. She’d have to wait.

Following the death of Richard Night, the newly-widowed Miriam Night went on something of a spree of do-gooding. Some of the less-informed tabloids at the time speculated it was the guilt she must have felt, since surely she put the hit out on him. Others guessed she wanted to put his fortune to good use, improving and preserving the city of his dreams. By the end of her life, there wasn’t a single charitable organization in the city that wasn’t proudly emblazoned with the Night name.

Nestled between a motorshop and a sewage treatment plant, forever shadowed by the highway over Arroyo, the Night Orphanage was the crowning jewel of her achievements. Supposedly, it had once been home to more than 2,500 children needing homes and shelter after the fallout of the Mob War. The fatality rates in the city had only risen in the sixty or so years since, of course, but that didn’t mean the Night Orphanage got any bigger or better.

These days, it was more of a dumping ground for kids with truly no other avenues left. Most orphans - the lucky ones - got in with a gang fairly early. Valentinos, Tyger Claws, and even Maelstrom could all make use of street lackeys young enough and small enough to go unnoticed, sneak into places, swipe stuff, plant stuff. Not a big ask in exchange for food and shelter.

Unlucky kids made it to the Night Orphanage, kindly nicknamed The Pound by the youth of the city. Underfunded and overcrowded, the place hadn’t seen so much as a fresh coat of paint in twenty years. Finding a foster family was more like being placed in a work camp and trying to keep any material possessions was harder than breaching the Black Wall. 

But, in a place like Night City, things could always be worse. The really unlucky kids only ever made it as far as the nearest Scav den.

River remembered his time at the Night Orphanage well. He and Joss had been carted in together by a couple of NCPD rookies on patrol in their neighborhood that night. Mom and dad were probably being carted off to landfill or biocomposting by then. Whatever was cheapest for a couple of penniless Pomo grocers. That first night had been the worst, naturally. 

There was so much noise, kids crying, screaming, fighting. Chaos in every direction. They’d been split up, a girl’s dorm and a boy’s dorm, and River had spent his entire first night clutching his puzzle book to his chest and waiting for his parents to come pick him up.

He shook those memories away for the time being, cutting Mack’s engine as he came to a stop across the street from the rusty gates of the orphanage yard. Bold lettering across the yard wall read ‘put down the pound pups’. Another nice nickname, this one for the orphans themselves. It didn’t look like Randy’s work, but possibly one of his cronies.

River took the steps up to the orphanage’s main door three at a time, ready to be here for the shortest amount of time possible. Would this be the third time he’d found Randy here? Or the fourth? The kid was a menace for this shithole. It’s like he knew how uncomfortable it made his uncle, having to come back to this place over and over again.

He knocked, loud and repeatedly, knowing Mr Sykes was adept at ignoring the goings on around him. The detective cast a sweeping glance over the yard while he waited, looking for Randy’s tag. The smell of the aerosol was still fresh, but he couldn’t spot it anywhere. After a moment, he heard the telltale shuffling, and then the door was eased open.

Mr Sykes was smaller and grayer than River remembered from the last time he was here. Maybe Randy really was growing up after all; it must have been at least a year or two since he’d had to come this way.

“Mr Sykes,” he announced, nodding as politely as he could. 

“Ward! You here about those goddamned vandals? Why’ve they got you on rookie work like this, son? Shouldn’t you have something better to do by now?” You have no idea the better things I could be doing right now, you miserable old bastard. 

“Not your son, Mr Sykes. Can I see the security footage?” 

“You can see better! I’ve got the little shits in the back, come on in.” It never ceased to amaze River how Mr Sykes always seemed completely oblivious to his blatant disdain. He followed the man through the building, trying not to look through any open doors. The fewer reminders he had of this place, the better.

“How’d you get them to agree to wait for a cop to get here?” River asked, watching Mr Sykes retrieve a cartoonishly oversized ring of keys from his belt as they approached the man’s office.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he scoffed, “I pulled my sawed-off on ‘em.”

“You really shouldn’t have done that,” River replied, sighing internally. Mr Sykes just shrugged. Of course, that meant nothing to this ancient fuck. He’d been an old man when River was nine, and it seemed time had only made him older and meaner. 

They entered the office, quickly faced with three sulking teens crammed onto the cracked brown leather of the couch. They looked up at River as Mr Sykes shut and locked the door and the detective enjoyed the play of emotions on their faces. Fear, awe, and some recognition from two of them. With a closer look - and a minor retinal scan - he knew the two in question.

“You’re Randy’s buddies, right?” he asked, glancing from one to the next, casting a cursory look to the third just in case he was a part of the crew he hadn’t met yet.

“You’re his cop uncle, right?” the middle one replied. His hair was neon yellow, sticking out in all directions like it had fallen onto his head from a great height. Between that and the piercings studding lines into the hollows of his cheeks, it was easy enough to place him in River’s memory.

“Chase,” he nodded to the kid. “Was Randy part of this?”

“Nah, he totally flaked.” Chase looked to the others for their reassurance. They nodded, the  boy he didn’t know staying mute while the girl - Natalie - chose to speak up.

“We asked him if he wanted to come, but he never replied,” she said. River could hear the hurt in her voice. Those two were supposed to be close. He’d seen the stills of them in Randy’s trailer before, they’d been going steady for a while now. She had a lot of incentive to cover for him. River took one small step closer to the couch, forcing the three of them to crane their necks that bit more.

“You’re not lying to me, are you?” he pressed, focussing mostly on Natalie but giving a good glare to Chase and the other one as well.

“I swear.” Chase shook his head, already splaying his palms out flat in front of him like River was about to slap cuffs on the poor kid. Between Chase’s determined eye contact and Natalie’s obvious upset, he was feeling inclined to believe them. He turned back to her.

“When’s the last time you heard from him?”

“A week ago,” she almost sobbed, her eyes starting to shine. “And he was being so weird. We were just messaging, talking about meeting up soon, and he was being like, super avoidant about it. Like he didn’t even wanna see me. And I don’t know what I did wrong!” And, sure enough, there were the tears. Chase patted her back awkwardly, clearly having no clue what to do. River sighed.

“Look, you’re not in trouble. I’m letting you walk away from this today, alright? But, any one of you hears anything from or about Randy, I wanna know about it. He’s not in trouble, I just need to make sure he’s okay and talk to him. Deal?” River flicked his contact to each of them, watching their eyes flash blue to ensure the intake.

“Yeah, of course, sir.” Chase was already standing up to leave, pulling the mute boy with him. Natalie stood as well, pausing beside River. Her eyes flashed blue again and he was hit with her own contact.

“That goes for you too,” she said, still teary but sniffing it up. “Please, if you hear from him, please tell me. I just wanna know he’s okay.”

River nodded, guiding her out of the room and escorting them all off the premises, much to Mr Sykes’ chagrin. Shoulda sent a real cop, he’d grumbled, which River was only too eager to ignore. He’d ignore any number of comments to get out of here right now. 

He waited to get in Mack, watching all three of the kids pile into Chase’s jalopy, grimacing as the chipped paintwork and spewing exhaust disappeared out of sight. Climbing into Mack’s driver’s seat, he drove around the corner before stopping again to collect himself; he just had to be far enough that that place wasn’t in his rearview anymore.

So, Randy had gone sour on Natalie. Probably why he went no-contact the last few days. The boy wants his space and has no idea how to get it, has no idea how much damage he’s causing by just running off to wherever. 

Usually, when Randy ran off after getting too high or too drunk or breaking something they couldn’t afford, he went to Natalie. Other than her and Chase, River had never met any of his friends, not properly. Arrested a few of the shittier ones in times gone by, back when he thought he could still make a difference for Randy, before he realized that some boys crave their own destruction.

Time to put the orphanage behind him, for now. Mr Sykes would call again if Randy came back. He recognized him by now, knew he was an easy way to get River here for more potshots and unwarranted commentary. He’d call. River shot off a quick message to Jiminez; no sign of Randy, thanks for the intel. Hopefully she’d update him if she heard anything else.

Between Akuma and the Pound, that was two dead ends today. Somewhere distantly in his mind, River heard his mother’s superstitious voice, warning bad things always come in threes, son. He held his pendant for a moment, running his fingers over the ridges of the feathers, asking her kindly to please be quiet. He had a date to get ready for, he really didn’t want a third dead end.

V assessed her reflection, seemingly for the hundredth time. Her hair was clean, glossy from the overpriced oil she’d applied. She’d toyed with her makeup a lot, but settled on simple eyeliner and her favorite dark pink lip with the silver rim. She hoped it didn’t look obvious from her eyes that she’d applied and removed at least ten different eyeshadows in the last hour. A little bloodshot, maybe. Several blinks and a shaky exhale and she was telling herself he wouldn’t know. He wouldn’t know.

‘Jesus, V,’ Johnny sighed, ‘I’ve seen you less nervous at executions.’

‘Shut up, Johnny,’ she verbalized internally. V shook her head, casting Johnny aside for the time being and taking a step back to get a look at the full head-to-toe of her outfit. The dress was black, sliced across the tops of her shoulders at the neckline and lying snug on her clavicle. Sleeves to her wrists and a hemline one inch north of her knees. The heels were simple, sharp and black and shining.

She looked stupid.

What was this, a date or a funeral? Who wears black to a first date? She should have picked something with more color, something more exciting, show some skin even, som-

‘V.’ Johnny’s voice cut through her thoughts sharper than her own blades. Seemed it was getting easier and easier for him to do that these days. ‘You look fine.’

“Fine?” V said aloud, turning to look at his visage currently half-slumped across the top of the bean bag. “You think I want to look fine this evening? Of all evenings?”

There was a moment of silence as Johnny assessed her.

‘Change the shoes.’ He nodded with certainty, gesturing to a pair of plum-colored heels she’d previously tossed across the room in the early stages of getting ready. ‘Those ones are sexier.’

V pulled her current heels off like they were on fire, flinging them from her sight and trotting over to the pair Johnny recommended. They were higher, pinching her toes slightly when she pulled them on. She walked back to the mirror. Dammit, they were sexier.

‘Told you, kid.’ Johnny spread his arms, mockingly christlike in his benevolence. ‘You’re a knockout. Now, you gonna throw a few of those blockers back before Detective Blue Moon Ward gets here and you go all gooey?’

‘Actually,’ V started, wringing her hands together and turning back to Johnny once more, ‘is it okay if I don’t do that?’

‘Wait - you want me around for your first date with robocop?’

V turned back to the mirror, making micro adjustments to the dress, the thick gold chain she added last-minute, the stud beneath her lip. She checked her nails - it was expensive to get a manicure when you had gorilla arm mods, y’know? The color matched her lips, her shoes too now, she guessed, she wondered-

‘Holy shit, you’re nervous to go without me, aren’t you?’ Johnny asked, glitching to a standing position behind her and looking at her reflection. She almost lashed out, but then thought about the idea of him disappearing on her just to spite her. Then she’d be alone. ‘What are you worried about? You don’t think he’s gonna try anything, do you?’

‘No, I know he’s a saint. Probably take better care of me than I would myself,’ V sighed, awkwardly shuffling from foot to foot for a moment. ‘I haven’t been on a date, not like this. Haven’t felt like this about someone since…’

‘Dean, right.’ Johnny’s tone was so kind and understanding, almost made V’s skin crawl. ‘You know River is not Dean, right? Man would probably lay face-down in a puddle just so you didn’t get those precious shoes wet.’

‘I know. But I’m still scared to do this on my own.’

‘Then you won’t.’ V looked up to see Johnny attempt a kind smile. He propped his hands on her shoulders and she could have sworn she actually felt it. Before she could dwell on the thought, her phone pinged.

‘No rush? ’ Johnny scoffed, laughing. ‘Christ, kid, this guy’s got it so bad. C’mon, let’s give ‘im hell.’ V couldn’t help but grin at Johnny’s reassurance. River did have it so bad. She was la tigresa, a bad bitch who wasn’t about to be scared of some drinks with him. Even if he was painfully good-looking and far better than she deserved.

Just as he said he would be, River was waiting at the entrance to the mega building, leaning back against the passenger door of his truck. The detective wore his usual coat, with smart black slacks and a dark red button up shirt. The top two buttons were undone, flashing a hint of the chain of his pendant. Black, shiny dress shoes took the place of the boots she was used to seeing him wear. He looked good, too good. When he noticed her descending the last steps and heading towards him, he broke out into that smile that made everything feel better.

“V,” he greeted. He held his arms out to her and she stepped into a half-embrace, exchanging polite cheek kisses and feeling very mature and European about it. “You look beautiful.”

“You too, bonito. You clean up nice, that a fresh shave?” She reached up to run a hand over the side of his head, coming to a stop at the corner of his jaw. She was la tigresa, goddammit, and she was gonna act like it. 

“Uh, yeah,” River mumbled, swallowing hard. “You like it?”

She ran her thumb along his jawline as she slowly brought her hand away, humming in pretend-thought. His skin felt so smooth.

“Very nice,” she concluded. “So, what’s so special about the Soul Cellar that we have to go there?”

“Best music in Night City,” River replied, turning to open the passenger door and holding a hand out to help her in. “I think you’ll like it.”

The drive there was mercifully short. V already felt like she was on fire with nerves and excitement, afraid she’d suddenly forget how to speak or what to say. She waited in her seat when Mack pulled to a halt in a parking space, knowing full well the detective enjoyed watching her get in and out of his truck as much as she liked holding his hand as she did so. 

Didn’t hurt that he could easily transition from that to gently guiding her with a hand on her lower back either.

The Soul Cellar was a classic Night City establishment, ‘hidden’ in the basement level of one of the city center’s older buildings and heavily inspired by the whole speakeasy aesthetic of the 1920s. Art Deco stylings and gold accents adorned every surface, and the back wall of the space was dominated by a low stage with one real grand piano and a ton of fake palms and feathers to complete the vibe.

The stage backdrop read The Soul Cellar, est. 2002 in big gold lettering. Probably the oldest bar in the city still in operation. V wondered if Johnny ever came here during his lifetime.

‘Once or twice,’ he answered, glitching into place on one of the barstools as V and River passed him, headed for a booth. ‘Wasn’t much for me, though, too many stuffed shirts and old folks.’

Looking around, it seemed like not a lot had changed since then. This place looked more high-class than V knew what to do with, but the intimacy of the low lights and the gentle presence of soft jazz music in the air helped soothe her nerves. 

River held an arm out, gesturing for her to take a seat at the small booth. The velvet cushions were plush and expensive, the booth walls high enough that it felt like they were in their own private world once River carefully situated himself across from her.

“You uh, been here before?” River asked, his eyes still wandering repeatedly over her face, her dress, those eyes. A part of him was yet to believe she was really here. That vision who had ambushed him at Fantaji all those weeks ago, surely she’d been to this place before. Surely with better, richer men than himself.

“Never,” she replied easily, always surprising him. “You?”

“Not once,” he grinned and they both laughed gently. It wasn’t awkward, exactly, but it wasn’t as effortless as things usually felt for them. Still warming up to the evening. V’s eyebrows pressed together at his response, charmingly at odds with her smile.

“How do you know this place has the best music in Night City if you’ve never been here before?”

“I’m a detective, right? I did some investigating. I know the music they have here. Trust me, it’s the best.”

“I’m not sure how much you know about the music I like, detective, but I’ll be very surprised if this place starts cranking out any Big Machete or Papito Gringo.” God, the way her accent rolled around words like match-etay or grrreen-go had River tonguing the inside of his cheek to keep from going too far too soon. They hadn’t even had a drink yet, christ, get a hold of yourself.

“Maybe not,” he chuckled, “but I think you’ll like it all the same.”

Before she could question him further, a waiter approached their table and performed the customary bow that seemed to be a staple at every corpo venue.

“Good evening and welcome to The Soul Cellar.” His voice was smooth enough that V wondered if he was one of those service worker dolls. His hair was perfectly coiffed and gold cyberware accented the delicate lines of his face, but there was that signature emptiness behind his eyes. “What can I get you to drink tonight?”

He turned first to V, likely modded to prioritize feminine-presenting guests in that old-timey ‘ladies first’ tradition. She smiled at him, trying her best to reach whatever was behind the flat affect of his gaze.

“I’ll have an old fashioned, please.” She turned her attention to River, who seemed to be nervously eyeing the menu in front of him. “What’ll you have, guapo?”

“V, these drinks are expensive,” he said in a low voice, leaning forward and looking apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t look properly at the prices, I’ll buy my own drink.”

“River,” she said haltingly.

“Yeah?”

“You’re being a gentleman.”

“Thank you?”

“Stop it.”

“Oh. Sorry.” God, he was fucking it up. Just like at the bar the first time they met. Just like every time he almost got what he wanted. V’s hand reached across the table and held his own before he could spiral further.

“It’s okay. You wanted to come here, so we’re here. I want to buy you some drinks, so I’m gonna buy you some drinks. What’ll you have?”

“You’re sure?”

“River.” V’s voice turned stern, but the urr hit his ears beautifully all the same.

“Sorry. I’ll have an old fashioned too, please.”

V turned back to the waiter, his face still open and charming and lingering on her own. 

“Two old fashioneds for me and el hermoso caballero, por favor,” she beamed. The waiter nodded politely, something twinkling distantly within him. Good, not completely gone then.

“Excellent choice.” The waiter left them as smoothly as he’d arrived, and V was suddenly aware her hand was still lingering over the detective’s metal digits. She let her fingers trail over the shining chrome. Had he polished it?

“Did you know I have a translator chip, by the way?” His voice brought her attention to his face, a smile in place that made her feel like she was already three drinks deep. It took a moment for her to piece together what he was saying. Shit. “Hermoso caballero? That’s ‘handsome gentleman’, right?”

“And here I thought you just knew a little Spanish.” Nice save, she thought to herself, la tigresa doesn’t get flustered or embarrassed. “Did I overestimate you, detective?”

“Learning more everyday I spend with you. Maybe one day I’ll be fluent, at least in overly-flattering compliments.” His smile grew, those crow’s feet lines deepening, V’s heart racing. His metal fingers twisted in her grasp, gently holding her hand across the table. “V, I’m really glad you agreed to go out with me tonight.”

“I didn’t just agree to it, River. I suggested it. I wanted to make it up to you for being…a little unreasonable with you. I know you were just trying to help me. Coulda probably locked me up if you wanted to, I appreciate that you didn’t.” His mouth seemed to turn down a little at the corners, his smile shrinking back.

“That what this is? Just an apology? I-it’s okay if it is, just lookin’ to know where I stand.” His hesitancy made V want to climb across the table and kiss the words out of his mouth for saying something so stupid. She settled for something a little tamer, squeezing his hand until he looked her in the eyes.

“River. Please let me be clear: this is a date. I wanted to apologize to you, that’s true, and I’ve said I’m sorry. I know we’ve had our fun back-and-forth but, I like you. I want to be here with you getting drinks, on a date, because I like you. That okay with you, mi hermoso caballero?”

“Shit,” he breathed with a chuckle. Mi hermoso caballero. Mi. “Yeah, that’s okay. More than okay. That’s fucking fantastic. I…I like you too, V.”

His smile was back and everything was right again.

“Good,” she laughed, “now tell me more about this amazing music.”

“Okay, so, the original owner of this place bought the rights to a bunch of musicians’ music and likenesses back in ‘02. Bought out basically every artist in the rhythm and blues game, including getting to the living descendants of legends like Sam Cooke and Dusty Springfield. All so he could use state-of-the-art hologram technology to have them perform here, alive or dead, didn’t matter. Hence the name.”

“Soul Cellar,” V nodded, “clever. So, who are we here to see? Cooke or Springfield?”

“Neither. Tonight’s about someone else very special. Reminds me of you, actually.”

“Color me intrigued, detective.”

River had the thought that maybe he should tell V about his suspension. Every time she called him ‘detective’, it made him feel some kind of way. Not like he was lying to her, but still didn’t sit right with him. Before he could act on it, the waiter returned, one hand perfectly balancing a golden tray carrying their drinks.

“An old fashioned for the lady, and the same for the gentleman.” A curt nod, more polite smiling, and he was in and out seamlessly. V picked up her tumbler, holding the glass out to him. River reached for his own - surprised at the hefty weight of it - and touched it to hers with a gentle ringing clink.

“Cheers, River. I’m really glad to be here with you.” Her smile was so earnest, that secret soft side of her coming to the fore. La gatita.

“Glad to be here with you too, V. Really glad.”

V saw movement from the corner of her eye, Johnny taking a seat at the empty table nearest to them, his eyes on the currently-empty stage. He leaned back in his chair and glanced at V over his shoulder.

‘And I’m just pleased as punch to be here with you both as well,’ he said, rolling his eyes at their chemistry. V took a deep breath, readying herself for what was coming. Johnny sensed it just before it came. ‘V? What are you-’

“River, I have something I want to tell you. Something important,” she announced, taking a deep drink to steel her nerves. She squeezed his fingers for reassurance, possibly a little too hard but she figured he wouldn’t mind, given that it lacked the delicate nerves and whatnot.

“Sure. Go ahead, V, please. You can tell me anything.” 

‘V, don’t do this,’ Johnny urged.

‘What - just because I’m selfish and I wanna keep him for myself? He deserves to know. For all I know, the idea of me is keeping him from someone else. Someone like Jiminez, maybe.’ Her reasoning was sound, even if she didn’t want it to be. Johnny’s shoulders sagged and he slumped forward in his chair, resting his chin in his hands and staring blankly ahead.

“V? You okay?” River asked, gently jostling her hand to bring her back to the present. Deep breath. Take the leap.

“I’m dying.”

A silent moment passed between them, like a ghost pushing its way through the space, snuffing everything in its wake. River’s voice was quiet and hoarse when he spoke, wondering if he’d imagined what she’d said.

“What?” 

“I’m sorry to kill the mood, I don’t want to be a bummer. I just thought you deserved to know. Don’t want you…wasting time on me, if there’s somewhere better you could be right now. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, I just wasn’t sure if it was worth saying or if you’d still wanna go out with me if you knew. I-”

“You’re dying?” His voice, serious and steady and certain now that he hadn’t misheard or imagined a thing, made V’s stomach flip.

“Yeah.”

River thought about that picture on Captain Faulk’s desk. The one of his wife and kids. He thought about his own tragically bare desk when he went to pack-up. The framed future he’d had in his mind vanished before him.

“How?” He vaguely registered his own voice starting to break. He took a sip of his drink. More of a gulp, really.

“Caught a virus on a job a while back. It’s slowly tearing down my own neural net, replacing it with…something else.” V saw Johnny turn to look at her, felt him nod in gratitude that she didn’t bring him into this. Not right now. Not yet, at least. River didn’t need to know all that right now.

“V, I,” River breathed, suddenly finding it harder to do, “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” she replied, trying to push a smile through her quivering lips.

“There has to be a cure, right? Something to wipe it out, erase it?” V’s heart clenched and warmed all at once. Of course this was his first thought: wanting to know how he could help her.

“Tryin’ to find something before I croak. Not looking great so far.”

“Well,” River started, taking another generous gulp and nodding, already decided in his head, “that’s because you haven’t had Night City’s best detective on your side so far.”

“River,” V smiled sadly, “that’s sweet, but-”

“Okay maybe not the best, but pretty damn good, if I say so myself. At least the most determined.” His smile reflected her own and he could feel his eye stinging, blinking rapidly to push it away. “I’m serious, V. I’m gonna help you. We’re gonna figure this out, okay?”

“I…” V didn’t know what to say. She briefly glanced at Johnny just to see him looking at River, a small smile on his face. “I don’t know what to say. You’re sure you wouldn’t rather be somewhere else? Sitting at this bar with a dying merc is what you want?”

“More than anything else, V, I mean it.” He brought her hand to his lips and softly kissed it. “Let me help you?”

“If that’s what you want,” she said, slowly nodding. River beamed, a relieved breath leaving him in a rush.

“I think I’ve made it clear that it is. Now, you’re not dying tonight, right? I shouldn’t be looking out for a hit squad or a sniper’s crosshairs or some other staples of the merc life?” That brought a laugh out of V that felt strong enough to lift the weight from both their shoulders.

“I have no immediate plans, no,” she smiled, “thought I deserved one night of drinking and dancing with someone as pretty as yourself.”

“Hey now, I promised drinking, but I don’t remember saying anything about dancing,” River replied, polishing off his old fashioned and pointing an accusatory finger at V. She beamed at him, sipping her own drink and shrugging her shoulders.

“You can’t possibly expect me to come to a bar that has the ‘best music in Night City’ and not wanna dance, can you?”

River opened his mouth to reply, but was sharply cut-off by the sudden darkening of the bar. The stage lit up, a figure made her way out to the piano and took a seat, and River’s heart nearly stopped. His jaw hung slack as a voice on the PA announced her presence.

Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Nina Simone.

‘Holy shit,’ Johnny said, sitting up in his chair like it had sent a spark up his ass.

‘What?’ V thought in his direction, looking over him to see the woman on the stage start up on the piano. The notes she played bounced up and down the length of the keys, scrambled and hypnotic. ‘Sounds good.’

‘Sounds good?’ Johnny turned in his chair to look at her, disgust evident on his face. ‘Sounds good? Jesus Christ, V, that is Nina fucking Simone. Her hologram, at least. Show some respect.’

‘Sorry, I’ve never heard of her.’ V didn’t know if she should be embarrassed or not. Who the fuck was Nina Simone?

‘Nina Simone was - is - the sound of soul, V,’ Johnny said, gesticulating with his arms like a stern tutor. ‘Wait til you hear this voice. She died when I was fifteen, I still remember it. Huge influence on my music.’

‘When you were fifteen? Why does River care so much about her if she’s that old?’

‘Clearly the man has taste beyond his years,’ Johnny said approvingly. V watched Johnny cast his gaze towards the detective, his smile broadening at River’s dazzled face. She decided to sit back and see what was so special about this Nina Simone woman.

Her hologram, as lifelike as it was, flickered just slightly as she leaned toward the microphone perched on the piano.

Baby, you understand me now, if sometimes you see that I’m mad,
Don’t you know no-one alive can always be an angel,
When everything goes wrong you’ll see some bad,
But I’m just a soul whose intentions are good,
Oh Lord, please don’t let me be misunderstood

It was instant, the way V’s heart raced in its efforts to catch up to the woman’s voice, the way it commanded her, captured her, kept her. The three of them, River, V, and Johnny, sat in silence, adrift in the reverie of Nina Simone’s voice, reaching through time more than a hundred years to reach them.

At the close of the song, the patrons broke into laidback applause befitting the relaxed atmosphere of an old fashioned jazz house. V and River clapped alongside them, their drinks finished and forgotten. There was a lull, the hologram reaching for a glass on the piano to slake some imagined thirst. V turned back to River.

“Wow,” she said quietly, almost afraid to ruin the moment. “So, she reminds you of me? Why?”

“Uhm,” River cleared his throat, rolling his shoulders briefly, hoping to dissipate his nerves. “Well, I heard her for the first time when I was, uh, fixing up the Bella Blanca. So, I guess I immediately associated her with you. Her voice makes me feel…kinda the same as yours does, I guess.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” V held up a hand. “When you were fixing up the Bella Blanca? You mean, she didn’t go to an NCPD lab and then a mechanic?”

“V, you really think your car would have come back clean if I took her to an actual NCPD lab?” They both laughed. “You’d probably be in jail right now. Not probably, actually, definitely.”

“So you fixed her all up yourself just to make sure I was available to go on a date with you, huh?” Her mouth formed a sultry curve, freeing her fingers from his grasp to trail them over the joints of his hand again, watching the motion closely. “Eres demasiado lindo.”

[You’re too cute], River’s translator supplied. He beamed and splayed his hand - palm up - on the tabletop for her. They both watched her fingers dance around his, River trying not to resent the lack of feeling in his metal digits.

They sank roughly two and a half more old fashioneds over the course of the next hour, listening to Nina Simone in rapture the entire time. Johnny stayed blissfully quiet, seemingly happy enough to enjoy the show for himself. V couldn’t tell if her own appreciation for the singer came purely from her performance, or from Johnny’s own feelings about her, or from River’s obvious infatuation. Perhaps some comforting cocktail of the three.

Couples and throuples took to the dancefloor at intervals, some songs dictating a lively shimmy while others were more withheld. The last song started, bold strings emanating from unseen speakers around the stage, and River shot up from his seat like a marionette, pulled by his own unseen strings. He threw the last of his drink back and firmly rapped a metal knuckle on the table in front her.

“Okay, V, this is it.” He gently took her hand and guided her to standing. V cocked her head at him, clearly wanting explanation. “If I’m gonna dance, I’m gonna do it right now, with you, to this song. That alright?”

“Lead the way, guapo.” V’s heart was in her mouth as he held her hand high and took them both to a clear spot on the dancefloor. He turned to her, smiling, his eyes so warm and kind. His right hand went to her hip, holding in a featherlight touch, while his left held her own at his shoulder height. She could feel some panic building, taking in the glitz and glamor of the bar. “I-I don’t know how to dance like this.”

“V,” River stopped her, that friendly face letting her know everything was okay, “do you think I have any idea what I’m doing? Relax, just go with the music, I’m sure you know how to do that.”

With that, the strings swelled to a dramatic crescendo before that voice coasted through the room again.

I put a spell on you, because you’re mine.

They swayed around in a vague circle, V trying not to get carried away at the feeling of River’s arm flexing under her touch, River trying not to get carried away at the soft give of her hip beneath his hand. 

Somewhere around the midpoint of the song, River pulled her closer, his nose gently nudging her forehead. He breathed in the smell of her hair, like jasmine and smoke, and placed a tentative kiss against that silky surface.

“I think of you all the time when I listen to this song,” he murmured, closing his eye, preserving this moment. “All the time.”

V pulled back from his chest, craning her neck and looking at him. He looked dazed, dopey with bliss, and she knew she must have looked just the same. She slipped her hand up his arm and around the back of his neck, pulling him down to her.

Their lips met for the first time and River instantly knew this was what his life had been for - this moment had been the whole point all along. The hand on V’s hip migrated to her back, bringing her closer. They stopped their swaying, giving up the façade of a dance in favor of pressing their lips together in kiss after kiss. 

Each embrace was soft, right up until the whiskey in V’s veins decided it was time to liven things up. Her tongue slid between his full lips like it belonged there, her hands held his face like they belonged there, and her heart beat in a way which seemed to spell out - for the first time in her life - you belong here. 

When her calves ached from the stretch and she pulled away from him, he followed, his head lowering, their breaths intermingling. River’s eye was closed, and even his optic appeared dim and blank. His metal hand held her cheek, thumb grazing back and forth. V brought her hands down to his chest, resting them flat against the stiff fabric of his shirt, feeling his heart racing beneath.

“V,” he breathed against her face in a soft whisper. He brought his bottom lip into his mouth, biting down on it before the whiskey let his thoughts out. “I wanna take you home.” 

“I want you to do whatever you want.” Her reply came easily and instantly. 

And I don’t care if you don’t want me, I’m yours right now,
I put a spell on you, because you’re mine.

River Ward climbed the stairs up to his apartment, apologizing for the state of the elevator along the way. He reached his apartment door, internally grateful that his elderly neighbor decided not to wander the halls in an open robe tonight. He unlocked the door quicker than he had in his life, and ushered V, la tigresa, merc extraordinaire and best living person in Night City, into his home.

“Sorry again about the mess, out there and in here,” he muttered as he turned to lock the door behind them. When he turned to look at V, she was standing in the middle of his apartment, her hand trailing the back of his couch. God, he’d touched himself sitting there thinking of her being here not even that long ago. Had to make sure she never found that out, somehow. Probably shouldn’t be thinking about it right now. Those old fashioneds must have been strong.

“Mess?” V asked, looking around possibly the tidiest apartment she’d ever been in. Sure, his desk against one wall had a lot of files and drives on it, but everything else looked immaculate. The faux leather of the couch smelled brand new, the glass of the coffee table so reflective she could touch up her makeup in it. Hell, even the air smelled cleaner in here than anywhere else she’d been today.

“Well, okay, I might have done a little nervous cleaning ahead of our date,” River shrugged, hanging his coat on the rack and taking a moment for a mental pep talk. It’s okay that V is in your apartment, she wants to be here, even. Enjoy it while it lasts, moron.

“Nervous cleaning, huh?” V smiled, bringing him back to the moment. “That’s perfect, because I happen to do nervous mess-making. You should see my apartment right now, looks like a Jinguji-branded bomb went off in there.”

“Oh yeah?” He took a few steps towards her, watching her face him and prop herself on the back of his couch. Her hands clutched the leather and he wondered if the skin of his back would wrinkle in the same way if she did that to him.

“Yeah, expensive as all hell, but I figure, I can’t take it with me. Might as well enjoy it.” Her smile dropped a fraction and pulled River’s heart with it.

“V, I wanted to say thank you for sharing that with me tonight. I can’t imagine how tough it’s been, dealing with it all this time. I’m grateful that you trusted me with that.”

“Of course,” she said quietly, moving away from the couch to plant her hands on his chest again, “but I don’t wanna talk about that right now.”

“What do you want to do?” River let his voice drop to a certain tone, hoping the whiskey was leading him down the right path.

“This.” V pulled them together, nails scraping his skin through his shirt, lips near bruising his own with the force of her kiss. River’s reaction was instant, gripping her waist and letting one hand slip up to the back of her neck. He tilted her head back and let his tongue satisfy the curiosity of feeling that lip stud from the inside.

Her mouth tasted of bitters and burning and when she moaned River felt ten years younger. V’s hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them with the practiced ease of a professional thief. She got half way down and ran out of patience, pulling at the seams just enough to expose most of his chest. Her fingers running down his pecs, slipping to his ribs and pressing into his bare skin pulled something from him.

“V, I,” he pulled back in a gasp, breaths heaving as he bit back what almost came out. He settled for something else, still a truth, but a smaller one, more palatable. “I need you.”

“Finally,” she replied. Her hand went to the front of his belt, tugging him closer and kissing him again, all fire and fury and passion. When she pulled away, her pupils were pulsing with desire, her eyebrows turned up at the corners in something akin to woe. “Finally.”

River gripped her hips and guided her backwards until her lower back hit the edge of his desk. He grabbed her thighs and hauled her onto the surface, hooking his hands around the underside of her knees to pull her to the edge and encourage her legs around his hips.

V was completely unused to this type of handling. Jesus, her ribcage was fifty pounds of pure titanium and he picked her up like she had hollow bird bones. She could barely catch her breath when he transitioned to holding her jaw with the gentlest touch she’d ever felt. He slowed everything down, giving her a moment to adjust that she didn’t know she needed.

“V, you okay?” God, between the drinks and the kissing, his voice had become gravel. He kissed her cheek, then her ear, and then he started a pilgrimage down the length of her neck, his thumb running over the gray lines of the cyberware around her larynx. She let her head roll back, the crown of it resting against his apartment wall. A blissful sigh slipped through her parted lips as River’s other hand pushed up the hemline of her dress a few inches, cold metal caressing her outer thigh.

V tried to remember herself, tried to remember any single moment in her life that had felt this fucking good, actually. She held his forearm with one hand while the other released his belt, heading further south and pressing against the hardness she found there. Her hand kept going until she had no choice but to voice the thought that had consumed her.

“Jesus, River, this all for me?” She almost chuckled before River bucked into her hand, growling lowly against her throat as the hand on her thigh squeezed, pulling her closer. His lips moved back to her ear, his breath hot and electric.

“Sí, mi tigresa.”

“Oh my god,” she moaned, letting her head fall back completely. His hand pushed further up her dress until a chrome thumb dragged down the soaked front of her panties, making her arch up into the pressure with a gasp. V’s eyes rolled back and her head lolled to the side at the rush coursing through her.

It took several blinks for her eyes to come back into focus and a few more for her brain to function beyond the feeling of River’s lips on her shoulder to really see what she was seeing. There, beside her leg on his desk, was that a picture of…her? She leaned over a little more to get a better look. Not just a picture of her. A picture of her, and Misty, and Jackie.

“River, what is that?”

“What’s what, baby?” He was undeterred from his journey, one hand now cupping her cheek as he applied some pressure with his teeth on the juncture of her neck. She placed a hand firm on his chest, pushing him back enough for him to get the picture.

“River, stop a sec. What is this?” V picked up the photo and handed it to him, watching him blink a few times until it made sense to him.

“This? Oh, this. I uh, I found this under one of the seats in the Bella Blanca.” His chest was heaving and V could feel his heart pounding through his skin. His eye flicked to the desk’s surface and she looked again to find more pictures.

Misty, outside her store. Misty waiting for a metro. Misty sitting on a metro. Misty walking around corpo plaza. V’s stomach started to turn. Those old fashioneds must have been strong. She kept a hand on River’s chest, pushing him further away as she brought herself off the desk, forcing herself not to stumble as she came back to balance on her heels.

“River, what the fuck are these?”

“They’re for a case, the drug case you’ve been helping me with.”

“Did you take these?” Her hand on his chest felt like an impenetrable wall, there was no way he was getting through without her say-so.

“Yeah, I-I’ve been tailing her for a while. Seems like she could be involved.”

“She’s not.” V’s voice turned cold and hard, that same merc affect she’d used the last time he tried to help her. “I could have told you that if you had asked me, since you apparently knew I know her. When were you gonna bring that up?”

“I swear, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about it. But then, I got so excited about tonight, a chance to just spend some time with you without it being about work. And then…” He trailed off. V gave him a small shove, just enough to get him looking her in the eyes again instead of this downcast guilty face that only made her anger grow.

“And then?” she prompted, eyebrows raised in pointed rage.

“Then you told me about how you’re…dying. I didn’t want to bring it up and risk ruining your night. I was trying to think about you.”

Her slap came quick and sharp as a blade, the blackened fingers of her gorilla arms not quite flaming but not far off. Felt like getting punched with a hot iron, and River immediately staggered back several paces from the shock. 

“How dare you make that excuse. Thinking about me? You don’t deserve to think about me!”

River opened his mouth, but V held a silencing hand to him, her eyes turning to her phone as it pinged a new message.

V looked back to River, a faint red burn starting to settle in below his optic. She already felt fucking awful. Hopefully it wouldn’t worsen the scarring there. 

“I have to go,” she said sullenly. She moved for the door, only stopping at the broken sound of River’s voice.

“V, wait. Please. I’m sorry.”

“I have to go, River,” she said over her shoulder at him. Unlocking the door, she took in the sight of him one more time. “I’ll call you.” And with that, she slipped away, pulling the door shut behind her. River was alone in his apartment once more. Hope you enjoyed it while it lasted, moron.

Chapter Text

Pulling out Dr Eyes’ dual port whatever thingy from the girl’s necks was his least favorite part of this whole gig. Seeing the needles of it sliding out from the neck skin was gross, but at least the gaping scarring it left behind was a cool signature. Theatrical, like that crazy doctor said. 

Once the donor was unplugged from everything, Haru unfurled a thick black body bag on the floor beside her cot. Phelps kept their supplies steady on both ends of the cooking - herding girls in and carting them out. They always hung heavy in his arms going down to the bag, but never as heavy as he expected - a few days of starving and draining was sure to take some of the pounds off, he reasoned.

He always felt a little scared getting their heads in the bag. Like, what if they suddenly opened their eyes? Or bit him? Or what if the head just snapped off while he moved the neck around? Haru put one steady hand around the back of her neck, supportive enough that hopefully at least one of those things definitely wouldn’t happen.

Her hair tangled in his fingers, curly and red, just like he’d promised Ichabod. Not that the doctor seemed to give a shit. Didn’t care what they looked like, didn’t fuck them even when they begged, didn’t make any sense. Didn’t matter too much to Haru, though. Once his own labs had figured out exactly how this shit worked, Dr Eyes and Gaur could both rot in a landfill for all he cared.

Until then, though, stuffing Sanguine vials in his back pocket and hauling body bags up the stairs to the garage was just another part of his job. 

Haru unlocked the van doors and heaved the bag into the back. He’d drive it out by the pier before sun-up, klep a few breezeblocks, and be done with her. For now, he had an empty lab cot to fill. Haru tossed his keys in the back of the van, knowing he’d be sure to lose them in the club otherwise.

“Now don’t you drive off anywhere,” he laughed to the bag, pulling the sliding door shut with a heavy clunk before turning back to Akuma’s maintenance doors. The club was busy tonight, lots of moving and shaking.

Working through the crowd, Haru slyly passed vial after vial of Sanguine through his fingers, accepting neat rolls of eddies in return. This op they had going was neat, slick, and - thanks to his own contacts like Phelps - easy to conduct out in the open like this. 

The clients preferred it this way as well. They didn’t want to feel like cheap losers, lurking in alleys or taking their fix from car drop-offs. No, this was the perfect combination of elevation and hedonism. Enjoy a drink, meet some girls, pass a wad to Haru and let him slip a cylinder of Sanguine in your back pocket. Just like that, your night’s gone from middling to superior. And you’ll wake up tomorrow ready for the board room again without a hitch.

No wonder these corpos were lining up halfway down the block just to get into Akuma.

“Haru!” A friendly voice called over the din, just after he’d finished distributing his last vial. Haru turned toward the sound, not surprised to see Misty’s smiling face. There was someone new with her tonight though, and already Haru’s interest was piqued.

“There’s my favorite witch in Night City,” he replied, strolling over to her tarot table and leaning a hip against it, “any fun readings tonight?”

The first step to getting a girl’s attention was ignoring her, so he made sure to angle himself away from the newcomer.

“Couldn’t tell you if there were, that’s between me and my clients. If you wanna know what’s so fun about the readings you’ll have to get one yourself,” Misty said cheekily, “is tonight the night that the brave Haru finally takes the leap?”

“Gosh, so tempting.” Haru pretended to consider it, throwing a wink in Misty’s direction to avoid offending her. “Think I’ll pass though. Gonna tell me who your friend is?”

The second step, indirect enquiry. Misty looked at the cutie across the table from her, couldn’t have been more than 5’3 with tan skin and dimples. Would make a nice change from the redhead he’d just had.

“This is Tama,” Misty began, “she’s a nomad! Dropped in for some dancing, right sister?”

“Damn right,” the new girl, Tama, replied, “how do you two know each other?”

“Haru’s a part owner,” Misty explained.

“Yeah, technically Gaur and Ichabod rent from me. Akuma is my building.” Haru let the usual amount of smugness filter through his voice - sometimes nomad chicks liked ‘crossing the line’ so to speak, getting down with a snooty city boy. He could play the part if that’s what this Tama girl liked. She grinned at his response, looking to Misty with a glimmer in her eye before replying.

“Well, I guess if you’re the owner you can comp us some free drinks, right?”

Oh yeah, he could definitely have some fun with her.

“I see how it is,” he laughed, flashing a quick smile her way, “you know what? I’ll show you some good old fashioned Night City hospitality. How about a coupla daiquiris on me?”

“Awesome,” Tama replied.

“Make Tama’s a virgin daiquiri, Haru,” Misty interjected, placing one hand on his arm before he could walk away.

“You pregnant?” Haru asked the girl. This could fuck with his plans.

“She’s eighteen,” Misty replied, “I’m making sure she doesn’t get your serving license revoked. You’re welcome.”

The three of them laughed, though Haru noticed the nomad looked a little embarrassed. He smiled at her, something more charming than cheeky this time, and headed to the bar. He needed her to be at ease for this to work how he wanted.

“Gaur,” Haru nodded across the bar to the short hulk of meat and frowns, “we got the special stuff ready tonight?”

“You found another donor already?” Gaur asked, huge forearms crossed over his chest and brows furrowed, looking like the world’s angriest uncle.

“Sure did. Was it not like this in Atlanta?”

“With Dean?” Gaur grunted, shaking his head, “Never ran this smoothly with him.”

“Oh no?” Haru hated sitting through Gaur’s nightly lectures, but at least this one seemed likely to result in some ego stroking coming his way.

“Nah, he could get girls in easy enough, but not like you. Too busy fucking around with his output.”

“He had an output and did this gig?” They never talked too much about Dean after the initial conversation of what it meant to fill his shoes. Sounded like he was either an asshole or a legend for balancing one mainline with this level of baiting with girls at the club. No wonder the donors weren’t coming in and out as smoothly when he was around. Gaur grunted again, sounding like a stuck fucking pig.

“They worked together. She brought the girls to him, he brought them to us. Paid her in product. She was good, too - better than Dean really. But you can’t trust a junkie.”

“Right.” Seemed like any ego stroking was over already, but Haru was curious about why she wasn’t still part of the gig if she had been so good at it. “So, what happened to her?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Gaur replied, shaking his head dismissively and grabbing some product, “what drink did our new donor want?”

“Two daiquiris with the house special. Plus a vodka soda for me, boss.” Haru made a mental note to try and look into this junkie, however he could. Didn’t sound like she could be a real threat to his gig, but it couldn’t hurt to know for sure. Gaur gave him a disciplined scowl.

“Two daiquiris? You know we’re not ready for two simultaneous donors yet.” Despite his words, Gaur started mixing the drinks. 

“Don’t worry, it’s just one donor. She’s definitely ready to go, just gotta get the friend out of the way.”

“Donors come alone, you know that.” He popped two vials of product open and poured them over ice in the cocktail glasses, quickly covering it over with generous jiggers of rum and mixing thoroughly.

“I know, I know, trust me, boss, she’s an ideal donor. Just some nomad kid here on her own.”

“And the friend?” Gaur squeezed a couple of limes over the mixture and topped it with syrup, pushing the crimson cocktails across the bar top. No sign of a vodka soda.

“A friend for the night, not someone who’ll care,” Haru replied flippantly, taking the cocktails and throwing Gaur a playful wink, “I’ll take care of her, boss. Promise.”

“Hey, hey.” Gaur jerked his head back toward the bar. Haru came in closer, setting the drinks down again, mentally preparing for some bullshit about professionalism or knowing his place and blah blah blah. 

“What’s up?” he asked, leaning his ear closer so Gaur wouldn’t notice him roll his eyes.

“We’re having a meeting. Not sure on when yet, probably not for a day or two, but we need you to bring in Phelps. Big Pete’s gone radio silent on us, we’re gonna need Phelps to dig him out.”

“Phelps was just telling me he wanted to meet, he’s got some news of his own to share, so he says.” Haru shrugged his shoulders. Phelps had been vague on his comms, but he always was; paranoid bastard was sure the world was out to get him.

“Make sure he’s ready, we’ll meet at the same place as last time.” Gaur nodded dismissively and Haru took that as a sign to make himself scarce, vodka soda or not. Gaur seemed to fluctuate between saying the bare minimum and running his fucking mouth, so getting out now before he switched up styles was probably for the best.

Weaving back through the crowd, Haru noticed Misty and the nomad girl looking at stills on Misty’s phone. He snuck up behind them, wrapping an arm around each of them and leaning in to check out the pic.

“Who’s the smokeshow?” he asked, nodding his head toward the still. It was a picture of Misty with a hispanic couple. The chick in the middle was a knockout, big teeth - he liked that - and gray cat eyes that looked sexy as hell.

“My friend, V,” Misty answered, stepping away to put the phone back in her pocket and taking her daiquiri with a smile, “turns out me and Tama both know her, isn’t that crazy?”

“Wild,” Haru grinned, already enjoying the mental picture of having all three of them. He pushed the other cocktail into the nomad’s hands, giving another wink when she accepted it. “How come she’s not here tonight? Can’t be girl’s night without the whole gang, right?”

“Well, she’s very busy and important,” Misty said, giggling to herself, “she’s a merc. Kind of a big deal, actually. Always running around the city, cleaning the streets, kicking ass, and taking names. She doesn’t have a lot of time to party.”

“Too bad for her I guess, huh?” Haru grinned, watching them both take sips of the drinks. “How are they, ladies? To your tastes, I hope?”

“Delicious!” Tama beamed, her gums already staining with the product as she took a generous gulp. Misty nodded in agreement, wrapping an arm around the nomad and ruffling the feathery layers of her black hair.

“So,” Haru began, smiling amiably from one to the other and back again, “I’m thinking we should finish these drinks and get outta here, what do you ladies think?”

The girls looked at one another, already starry eyed, slurping their drinks up like they were about to keel over from thirst. They smiled and both looked back at Haru, nodding and blinking with heavy eyes. He had about a half hour to get them where he wanted them. After that, the real fun could begin.

Chapter Text

“Beer?” Panam asked, fishing two Brosephs out of a cooler and jerking her head towards her Warhorse. V turned her nose up at it.

“You don’t have any whiskey? Or tequila?” 

“Of course,” Panam snorted, “but you’re not getting it. We’re on a stakeout tonight, V, waiting for Hellman’s AV to be airborne - which could be any minute. Taking the edge off is one thing but I am not letting you get wasted.”

“That’s no fun,” V sulked.

“Sorry tonight’s not about having fun, sister,” Panam chuckled, shaking her head. She gestured towards V’s borrowed cargo pants and utility boots. “Looked like you were supposed to be having a fun night when you showed up in that toy car of yours. What happened? We interrupt something?”

“Well,” V started, hesitating for a moment while she picked at a loose thread of the vest Panam loaned to her, “I was on a date, but it was fucked up by the time I got your message.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Panam offered, clambering onto the hood of the Warhorse. V climbed up behind her, leaning back against the windscreen and taking in the sight of the stars from way out here, away from the endless humming of the city proper.

“Gimme that beer,” V replied. They drank in companionable silence for a few moments before V cleared her throat. “Okay, so, don’t judge me.”

“Why would I judge you? Oh my god it’s not that old corpo guy is it?”

“Oh my god, shut up! It is not Goro,” V laughed, swatting at Panam while the nomad did an annoyingly good job of dodging her.

“I’m just saying I wouldn’t be surprised. I’ve seen the face you pull when you talk about him, like he’s some dreamy BD star. Honestly, it’s embarrassing, I’m embarrassed for you.”

“Do you want to hear about my actual date? So you can be embarrassed for me about something I actually did?” 

“I do,” Panam replied with a smirk, interjecting again before V could continue, “After you admit that you have a thing for that old man.”

“I am not admitting that-”

“Eventhoughit’strue-”

“Pan.”

“Okay, okay, I’m done. Please continue with your embarrassing date.”

“The date actually went really well. We got drinks at a fancy bar downtown, danced to some of the best music I’ve ever heard, went back to his place. And then I found stills of my best friend, Misty, all over his fucking desk. He’s been following her.”

“A stalker?”

“Worse. A cop.” V curled her lip up at herself. Sure, it was probably mostly Johnny’s disgust creeping up her throat, but it tasted awful all the same. “I mean, Christ, Pan, a cop, I dated a cop. I, a merc, dated a cop.”

“So I take it you dated a cop, then?” V didn’t respond, but her eyes sent all the daggers in the world at the nomad, who only laughed and shouldered her amicably. “But the date went well?”

“So well,” V sighed, glugging generously from the bottle before continuing. “He’s so…so…so fucking sexy for one thing, god, I can’t stop thinking about it. We’ve been dancing around it since we met and I was sure tonight was gonna be the night. Then he goes and takes pictures of my friend and leaves them out on his fucking desk. I mean, who does that?”

“Cops?”

“Exactly! What was I thinking? I can’t fuck a cop! He’s a fucking cop, I am not fucking a cop, even if I’d kill someone for the chance to fuck this particular cop.”

“Sounds like you got it bad, V,” Panam said decisively, sipping from her beer and watching the lights from AVs slowly trickling in and out of Night City airspace. V kept her eyes on the stars, throwing an arm over her forehead to block it all out every now and then. Just enough so she could close her eyes and think about River’s hands on her thighs, his lips on her neck, his voice in her ear.

“It’s awful, Pan.”

“What’s this guy look like? I need a visual to understand what’s got you so…embarrassing about it.” V could sense the mischief building up in Panam before her next words were out “Lemme guess. Old. Japanese. A corpo bodygua-”

“I will shoot you.”

“Humor me,” Panam chuckled, shifting on the hood to see more of V’s face. “He short? Tall? Black? White? Gimme something to picture.”

“He’s…tan. Skin like a creamy cappuccino I wanna drag my teeth across. And he’s tall. God, Panam, he’s huge. Taller than any one of the ‘caldos with a chest broad as a fucking highway.”

“Descriptive.”

“His biceps are as big as my legs, I swear.”

“Wow,” Panam laughed, nudging her knee into V’s leg with a low whistle, “and that’s really saying something, too.”

“Right?” V replied with a smile, finally starting to feel a little lighter about the night. “Thought tonight I was finally gonna get to smother him with my thighs. And he could crush my throat with his big chrome hand in return. You ever been so attracted to someone you wish you could just kill each other and be done with it?”

“Can’t say I have. Sounds like true love.” They snickered together, clinking their beers in agreement. “Chrome hand, huh?”

“Yeah, he’s got this ancient optic too, tried to put it in himself when he was like thirteen, can you believe that?”

“Wow. Sounds like quite the guy.” Panam’s voice had that certain tone again, the one V knew to associate with trouble. “Ancient optic, huh?” 

“What are you getting at, Pan?”

“I mean, how ancient are we talking? On the scale of ‘Oh, Panam, that guy Scorpion you run with is pretty cute, huh?’ to ‘You can trust Goro, he saved my life’?” Panam held her bottle up beside her head in a mocking swoon, batting her eyelashes and laughing when V swatted at her repeatedly.

“I am never telling you anything ever again!” V squealed, half laughing half screaming.

“So you’re saying he’s old, then? Because you’re obsessed with older guys?”

“Just because he is older than me doesn’t make him old! Besides, you haven’t seen this older guy.”

“Well, I’m picturing graying hair and a limp.”

“Okay first of all, for your information, he doesn’t have any hair.”

“So he’s old enough to go bald?”

“Shut up. He shaves his head.”

“Because he’s going bald?”

V retaliated by tossing the remainder of her beer over Panam, jerking the bottle at her like she was on fire. Panam just laughed, tilting her head away from the worst of the spray and trying to splash it back at V as much as possible.

“And he doesn’t limp either!” V cackled.

“Oh no?”

“No! He prowls around like a fucking jungle cat and I think I want him to fuck me to death!” V hucked her empty beer bottle into the abyss of desert that sat between them and the endless ticker tape of ads forever rolling into the night sky.

“Hey, V?” Panam downed the last of her own beer and threw her bottle after V’s, letting the satisfying smashing of the glass fill the air before she spoke again. “I think you might need to fuck this cop.”

“But he’s-”

“A cop, I know, but you thought you were gonna do it anyway. Why not? Sure, the Misty thing is weird, but if you’re this into him why not just hook up with him the one time and then cut him off? Satisfy your curiosity and move on.”

“It’s not that simple,” V sighed. Because she knew it wasn’t that simple. Even without the stills of Misty, she knew she couldn’t just cut him off, and she knew sleeping with him wouldn’t satisfy her curiosity so much as ignite it. Because it wasn’t just about the sex, at the end of it. “I’ve never felt like this before. I don’t know what to do about this Misty thing. Why was he following her? Why did he take those pictures? Why didn’t he ask me about it?”

“Wait, wait,” Panam interrupted with a firm hand on V’s arm, “you’re telling me you didn’t ask him any of these perfectly valid and normal questions?”

V shook her head.

“Got your message right when I found the pics. Kinda just stormed out on him,” she said, a queasy feeling building up in her stomach. 

Before Panam could respond, her radio crackled to life with Mitch’s voice.

“Hope you’re ready up there, I can see the Kang Tao AV leaving official airspace. Bring her down, Pan.”

Panam gave V an apologetic look, but V only shook her head in response. She had to get her head in the game. This was about saving her life, goddammit, no matter how much of a shit show that life was right now. She took a few deep breaths, summoning something stronger than herself. La tigresa. How would she handle this right now? Time to find out.

Dust started to clear around the AV wreckage as V and Panam pulled up to the apex of the overlook. V threw herself out of the car door and headed for the crash site at a sprint. Gunfire and muzzle flashes filled V’s vision, and she was soon crouched behind a large rock and hurling an EMP grenade into the fray.

Panam stayed up in the Warhorse, opening the roof access and setting up her rifle. Her voice came over through V’s comms, clearly trying not to panic.

“Okay, we knew they’d be armed, we can handle this,” she said, half to V and half to herself, “Mitch and Scorpion are five minutes out with back-up.”

“We can handle five minutes,” V replied, also half to herself. Another EMP grenade gave her a brief opportunity to scan the crash between rounds. Looked like there was a hole in the other side of the hull, Hellman would be getting out that way, no doubt about it. Probably what all this suppressing fire was for, so some guards could escort him to safety.

“We’re closing in,” Scorpion’s voice on the comms this time, a familiar comfort V needed more than she realized, “how you holding up down there?”

“Could be better,” V replied, “I’m a little pinned down right now.”

“Any visual on Hellman?”

“None, but I managed to scan the AV, looks like there’s a hole on the starboard side, fucker’s probably a mile from here by now.” V chanced a hack on one of the Kang Tao robots, getting some small relief when it collapsed in a pile of crackling circuits. The hack bounced to the next bot, mutating and deactivating its motor functions.

“Very nice, nerd,” Panam’s voice scoffed. A muted whoosh and a dense thud later and one of her sniper rounds had found its target’s chest. “Think we can hold the fort just fine here if you fellas wanna head straight for Hellman.”

“We can follow the scent,” Scorpion confirmed. “V, this is your gig, this is your life. What do you want to do?”

V thought about it. It would be safer if they had bigger numbers here, easier to take down the turrets and the guards if there were more targets to cause distractions and hurl some lead. At the same time, she wanted Hellman bagged, and fast. She took another quick glance at the downed AV and thought fuck it.

“Yeah, we’ll handle what’s left of the guard here,” V said, “you guys go after Hellman. Catch that rat for me, will ya, Scorpion?”

“Consider it an early birthday present,” Scorpion’s voice chuckled down the line before crackling out. V heard another body hit the ground with the force of Panam’s next bullet. Should only be two turrets, two guards, and one security drone left. Another whoosh, another thud. Make that one guard.

She pulled a knife from her thigh holster and spun up to standing height, splaying one arm out to send it flying to its target: the security drone. It sputtered, fizzed, and crashed right into one of the AV’s turrets, exploding spectacularly on impact. Damn, if their luck kept up like this, the relic would be gone by tomorrow.

The second turret honed in on V’s location and she had to make use of her fortified ankles to get out of dodge. From a new vantage point, she saw the rock she had been using for cover become dust under the rapidfire of the turret. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t going to be as easy as she’d hoped.

Several tense minutes that felt like several tense hours saw V sweating and panting, sand in every crevice and blood streaked across her face. The AV was down, turrets and all. Panam brought Warhorse down the hill, opening the passenger door and slowing down just enough for V to climb in.

“C’mon, Mitch pinged me the NAV points but something’s gone wrong - it’s an SOS code.” Panam’s voice walked the line between angry and terrified, and V’s head started to pound accordingly. What if Hellman wasn’t there? Or what if he was there and he’s been killed in the crossfire? She wasn’t ready for her journey to be over yet.

They were silent for the short journey, letting the dunes bounce them and trying not to cry out from any of the superficial wounds they’d gained. The NAV points led to a gas station, one burned-out van parked out front that V recognized as belonging to Mitch. Beside it, the bike she’d seen Scorpion fawn over a hundred times was over on its side, paintwork no doubt scratched and scuffed.

“Scorpion? Mitch?” V called out, practically falling from the Warhorse as it came to a stop. She held her pistol half-cocked, scanning the area obsessively. No sign of either of them. Panam worked around the back of the gas station, circling back around with a silent shake of her head.

The startled groaning of the metal garage door kicked them both into action, taking up positions to either side of the roller. It juddered upwards, slowly revealing several sets of Aldecaldo legs. Mitch stood to the front of the group, wincing and bloodied. V’s eyes passed over each person, recognizing them all but feeling the daunting absence of one of them.

“Scorpion?” she asked Mitch. He cast his eyes to the ground, shaking his head.

V stormed into the garage, headed straight for the stairs after Mitch pointed the way. She pushed open a little office door to find Anders fucking Hellman tied to a chair inside. He gave her one look and started running his mouth.

“Whatever Arasaka is offering you, Kang Tao will give you double to get me back to them,” he said, voice wavering. There was a spot of blood on the collar of his otherwise pristine shirt. V wondered if it was Scorpion’s. “I can p-pay.”

“This isn’t about fucking money!” V hissed, reeling back and punching Hellman square in the jaw. He was out like a light. She got her phone out to call Goro. If this prick had even half of the information she thought he did, she couldn’t start questioning him soon enough.

The particular ripper working out of this market was far from legitimate, but River was in no position to look for a legitimate ripper today. Not for the particular job he had in mind. The rain that day was enough to keep the collar of his coat close, ducking from stall to stall to avoid it, not that it was doing him much good after this much schlepping around. 

He’d already been to Akuma in the early hours, still no sign of the blonde. Of V’s friend, he reminded himself. He even swung by the esoterica on his way over here just to see it still shuttered up. A dead end. Hopefully, with today’s leg of his investigation, he could get some answers.

Over his twenty years of being a cop in Night City, River Ward had been to his fair share of shady markets, asking questions, pushing his luck. But even so, he was nervous about this one.

The ripper gave him the customary onceover the second he walked through the beaded curtain into the store. A grunt of a greeting from the ripper and his own silent nod in return was enough to relax some of the stress seeping into his bones. River took a moment to pretend to browse some of the prosthetics hanging in the store before working his way to the counter.

“Don’t talk to cops,” the ripper grumbled, not looking up from adjusting the screws of an exo glove. 

“Not here to question you, relax. Just looking to get a little work done.” That got the ripper’s attention, one thick eyebrow raising as he assessed River with more scrutiny this time.

“Don’t work on cops neither,” he replied, cigarette hanging limply from one corner of his mouth. River briefly wondered if this could be the same ripper who healed V’s lip, before deciding that surely the craftsman responsible for that was more…refined than this, to say the least.

“Not a cop,” River started replying, holding his chrome hand up in appeasement before the ripper could argue with him, “not right now, anyway. Off-duty, just looking for someone to work on this hand. Can you do it or not?”

The ripper grumbled again, seemed to be his preferred method of communication, before gesturing to River’s hand with his screwdriver.

“You wanna replace that thing? Looks a little past its prime.”

“It is,” River admitted, “but I’m keeping it. Just need you to take the palm plate off. There’s a tracking chip in there I need reconfigured.”

“Didn’t know the NCPD put tracking chips on badges these days,” the ripper replied, taking River’s hand in his own. He turned it over and over before opening various drawers and pulling out tools on his side of the counter.

“They don’t,” River replied curtly. 

“You put this thing in yourself?” the ripper asked in disbelief. He worked a set of tongs into the fine grooves around the palm plate and started fiddling with the calibrations.

“No,” River answered, clearing his throat in an attempt to keep his airways open. Thinking about her for the last day had been awful every time. 

He thought about calling, about messaging, about driving over to H10 and knocking door-to-door. But every time, he stopped himself. She said she’d call him, he had to trust that she was telling the truth. She was rightly pissed off at him and he wanted to avoid anything that might make it worse.

The gentle hissing of his palm plate brought him back into the room as the ripper shimmied it loose. He lifted the plate and flipped it over. Sure enough, there in the middle was a plain black chip, smooth and round and about the size of River’s fingernail.

“So, lemme get this straight,” the ripper began, waving the palm plate around and gesturing toward the chip, “you knew you had this tracker on you, but you didn’t put it there yourself?”

“That’s right.”

“Fuckin’ A,” the ripper laughed, throwing the plate on the counter and tweezing the chip off like it was a tick, “what’s her name, choom?”

River coughed a few times, shaking his head like he had no idea what the ripper was talking about while the man just kept chuckling on. River made a few noncommittal noises but found that no real sounds were forming from his mouth.

“Y’know, I’ve known guys who was whipped in all kindsa ways,” the ripper preached, “but never have I ever known a guy to let his woman put a fucking tracking chip on him! This is good shit, too, she spared no expense on you, choom, I’ll give you that. Either really loves you or really doesn’t trust you.”

The ripper kept laughing, and River tried not to let his mind race too much about what he was saying.

“You getting this thing taken off for a fun weekend in Dogtown or what? Up to things your missus is better not knowing about?” 

“It’s not like that,” River replied, shaking his head. The idea of V being attached to him in that way. Well, there was a point where it was something River thought about a lot, when he really let himself. But after the way he fucked up their date, after the reveal of her anticipated life expectancy, he tried not to let himself think about it anymore.

“I’ll bet it’s not like that, buddy. Must be some output if you let her put this kinda ‘ware on you. What she got, no gag reflex or somethin’?” The ripper chuckled, glancing at River’s stone-faced expression and tightened jaw before turning back to his work. “Alright, alright, easy there, officer, no need to get your cuffs out, I didn’t mean nothing by it. This thing’s all clear now, what do you wanna do with it?”

“Need you to match it to this.” River pulled his phone out, sliding it across the countertop and watching the ripper get to work. For all his shop looked shady as hell, the ripper was quick and effective. The chip was matched to his cell in no time, and the cost wasn’t extortionate, even with the kind of rates guys like him gave to badges. In the ripper’s own words, he got a discount for being ‘the most whipped man in Night City’, a fun drinking story for him to share with his buddies.

All in all, River walked out of the market with everything he needed to conduct the next part of his recon investigation. He headed to the precinct, wary to park far enough away that his truck wouldn’t be spotted.

Sure enough, there was the ugly body wrap on Phelps’ Mizutani in his usual parking bay. River skulked through the lot, winding around the larger S.W.A.T vehicles to keep himself off the security cams. One casual sweep past the rear wheel of Phelp’s car was all it took. Once the tracker was in place on the inner rim of the wheel well, River left as quickly as he’d arrived. Now he just had to bide his time and wait for the next step to reveal itself.

He didn’t know what to do about V, how to make it right, how to explain himself and get her to forgive him. He didn’t know what had happened to V’s friend. But he did know how to investigate. He did know the NCPD couldn’t be trusted with this drug case. And he knew Phelps had his fucking fingers all over it.

The gym was quiet this late in the day, but it gave him time to think and reflect whilst being too public for the full-blown spiraling he knew he would do at home. He couldn’t get too existential at the squat rack, and he was overdue a workout. Adding a few more lbs to either side of his setup, River thought of V. Of course. Seemed he was always thinking of V.

The date had gone so well, better even than he’d imagined. But, naturally, work found a way to ruin it for him. Like it had ruined every relationship he’d ever had. If she had just let him explain, she would have understood why he had those stills. She would have seen it from his side and forgiven him.

No, that wasn’t fair. He’d had days to talk to her about it before that night. Weeks probably to ask her about her connection to the blonde woman, or if she knew anything about the goings on at Akuma. He just didn’t want to because he was too busy thinking with his dick. God, that dress she’d worn. Those heels. He remembered pushing his hand up her thigh, kissing her neck, feeling her hand stroking him.

Gotta get your head in the game if you ever wanna feel any of that again, he reminded himself. He wouldn’t let himself think that he’d ruined it forever. Surely, she felt something similar to the same way he did? Surely she knew this was something else, something real. He’d never felt like this before, not with Yawen or anyone before that. This felt like a once in a lifetime thing, as terrifying as that was to face.

And then there was the matter of her health. How much longer did V really have? How was he going to help her find a cure? A darker side of himself asked the question he didn’t want to ask: was it worth getting so invested in her if she was going to die?

He squatted down, perhaps quicker than he should have, to avoid the question. He didn’t want to ask it because he already knew the answer didn’t matter. He was already way too deep. At this point, he’d do just about anything to ensure her survival, even if she never spoke to him again. He just had to know she was out there, living and breathing and - hopefully - thinking of him half as much as he thought of her.

Pushing back up into a stand, River told himself to think about Phelps. If he could figure out what happened with V’s friend, he could better explain himself to V. If he could explain his reasoning to V, hopefully she could forgive him for not coming to her sooner. 

And if she forgave him…well, he tried not to get too excited about what could blossom between them if they could actually start dating properly. A framed family portrait sprang to his mind for a millisecond before he ducked into the next squat, pushing a breath out through his mouth like he was blowing away the image.

Before anything remotely resembling that could happen, he had to figure out what Phelps was doing at Akuma. What was his connection to the blond asian man? What was his role in this drug operation? What did the string of missing women have to do with it? He just had to wait for the tracker to show him the way.

Nothing. Fucking nothing. Brought down a Kang Tao AV, followed the trail twenty-five miles to a gas station, hijacked and kidnapped Anders fucking Hellman and it was for fucking nothing.

‘Not nothing, V.’ Johnny’s voice sounded calm in a way that only served to make V more mad.

“Sure as shit feels like nothing, Johnny!” she screamed, kicking the stones at her feet and sending a powder pink cloud of errant sand up to her knees. The building light of the sunrise cast a warm hue on everything it touched. The dunes ahead of her were a churning candy floss ocean that was so beautiful it made her feel sick. A sunrise that Scorpion would never see.

V stormed to the edge of the outcrop she’d ridden to - on Scorpion’s bike, goddammit - and crashed to her knees in the dirt. She stared at the dust coating her pants, watching with detached interest as her tears dripped dark circles in the fabric. The pants were looking a little worse for wear, but what else could she expect by now?

It had been three days since she’d left the Sunset Motel. Three days that she’d spent desperately trawling the desert, Scorpion’s Apollo in tow. She was a shit rider. Tackling roads outside of the city was not her forte whether she had two or four wheels, it turned out. She’d had plenty of spills navigating the rocky crags, tearing the pants more than once in the last three days.

Three days of sweating in the sun and narrowingly avoiding freezing to death while she slept. Three days of ignoring the voice inside of her that told her she had work to do.

But what could she do? 

She’d already done too much - lost too much - to get Hellman, and got nothing for it. Nothing but the vindication of leaving Hellman alone with Goro. Hopefully he was dead by now. But she doubted it; Goro was still too honorable to kill Hellman without being ordered to, still too loyal.  

Still, it wasn’t like she could stay out here in the desert forever. She’d eventually have to crawl back into the city, face what was waiting there. V knew she was wrong to have left River the way she did, without asking any questions or waiting for any explanations - Panam was right. It was also time to face the reality of figuring out what exactly was going on with Misty and Akuma.

It had to be Gaur and Ichabod behind it. She knew that, just didn’t want to accept it. Didn’t want to think back to that time in her life. A new tributary of tears burst out of her at the memory of leaving Atlanta with Scorpion by her side.

Like he could sense her need to talk about it, Johnny materialized next to her, crossing his legs and adjusting his aviators to take in the city from this distance.

“He got me out of Atlanta, y’know? Him and Mitch. They used to run stuff for Gaur - not drugs - just some weapons and exotic goods. I got friendly with them. Scorpion was the one to ask if I needed help. He noticed my black eye, the bruises I couldn’t hide with makeup. Gave me his contact and told me to call if I ever needed help, no matter how big or small. I called him the night that I…the night that I left Atlanta. They smuggled me back here with them. I ever tell you that?”

‘I’ve seen some memories,’ Johnny replied with a solemn nod. 

“He didn’t deserve this. To die for this. For me. Shoulda never got them involved.” V sniffed around her words, her eyes settling in and out of focus on the abandoned farm building just below the outcrop. Something else to look at other than the sun. Other than Scorpion’s bike. Other than Johnny.

‘V,’ the engram started, ‘you had no idea this was gonna happen.’

“No,” she replied, “but I knew I was gonna die. Nothing’s changed. I’m still gonna die. Only now Scorpion’s gone too. My life’s not worth losing his too. It just isn’t.”

‘V-’

“I don’t wanna hear it, Johnny. I don’t wanna hear ‘Oh, V, don’t feel bad, it’s not your fault, you didn’t know what would happen’ because we all knew what could happen. Even Scorpion. He laid his life on the line for me and he lost. And what did I get? Fucking nothing! Hellman created the fucking Relic and even he can’t help me!”

‘At least you got the blueprints for it.’

“How is that gonna save my life?”

‘I don’t know!’ Johnny threw his hands up in frustration. ‘But at least it’s not nothing. It’s something you didn’t have three days ago.’

They sat in silence as the sun approached with caution, slowly breaching the dunes and beaming down on them.

Its heat felt like a reminder of her own mortality. How many more of these sunrises would V get to see? How many more times would the light touch the closed lids of her eyes and warm her blood? What would the people she loved do when she died? Mama Welles, Misty, Vikky. What would River do when she died? When would she become Johnny?

She could feel panic bubbling up at the back of her throat, and tried desperately to find something else to think about. The abandoned farm building was the only thing around for miles. It had a chain link fence and a little outbuilding to one side, at least it was something to look at, something to occupy her mind.

‘Scan it,’ Johnny prompted. She looked at him with a furrowed brow and he simply shrugged. It was something to do at least, seemed to be the unspoken suggestion. She turned back to the farm and scanned it, expecting to see no results.

Instead, the plot of land lit up with landmines.

“What the hell?” she asked nobody in particular. Johnny looked at the property over his sunglasses, whether he could see the mines as she could or not she didn’t know. “Gotta be something worth guarding down there with that much heavy protection, right?”

‘Something worth guarding? Or something worth klepping?’ Johnny asked, standing up and brushing imaginary dust from the seat of his pants. V stood up too, ready to make her way down the outcrop to see what else she could learn about the farm.

The ringing of her holo stopped her two steps into her journey. An adrenaline spike hit her, panicking in case it was River. She hadn’t heard anything from him since she left him just over three days ago and she didn’t know whether to be relieved or annoyed. She checked the contact; Goro. She answered the call with a tight throat.

“Goro?” 

“V. I have finished with Hellman. Return to the Sunset Motel. We must head into the city at once. There is still work to do.”

With that, he cut the line. V took one last look at the farm before turning back to Scorpion’s bike and mounting up. Whatever was going on there, it would have to wait for now. Like Goro said (like she already knew), there was still work to do.

The tracker didn’t leave him waiting long. River ended up rushing from the gym showers to the parking lot, climbing up into Mack’s driver seat and loading up the tracking application on his phone. Just after dark and Phelps’ Mizutani was on its way out of his usual parking bay. The drive to the station would take thirty minutes with how the traffic through the city center was at this time, but it looked like that wouldn’t be necessary.

The car wasn’t headed to Akuma. It was reasonable that Phelps could be going anywhere at this time of night, but River wanted to keep on top of him. Mack pulled out onto the darkening streets as smooth as butter, and soon enough River was following the blip of the tracker to the north of the city.

Night City’s most northern district was nothing to write home about. Before the miles of landfill and abandoned oil fields just beyond city limits, it was mostly quiet apartment blocks and the Arasaka industrial dock. The tracker was showing Phelps heading closer and closer to the latter.

River kept an easy half mile between himself and the tracker until it came to a stop around the back of the pier’s market on the north side. He killed the lights and the engine, forcing Mack to coast to a slow stop within visible range of the Mizutani. Sitting in the dark, River watched with increasing interest and anxiety as Phelps climbed out of the car, followed shortly by the blond man. He was wearing a similar leather vest to the one he’d worn the last time River saw him.

River thought about the last time he’d seen him. It was the last time he’d seen V’s friend too. He’d tailed her to the back doors of Akuma, where the asian man had been smoking and talking on the phone. She walked up to him and they exchanged smiles and waves, and then she headed in the back door. It didn’t seem like much at the time, but River could still remember the way the man had looked at her as she passed him, like she was a piece of meat.

One part of him was convinced he was reading too much into it, Christ he probably looked like that half the time when he was ogling V climbing into his truck, and it wasn’t a crime to look at a beautiful woman. Still. That was the last time River had seen V’s friend. He was growing certain she hadn’t left the club since then, at least not of her own free will. Emboldened with newfound determination to solve this case, River quietly eased his way out of Mack’s driver’s side and followed the men towards the docks.

They didn’t enter the official Arasaka industrial dock, but followed the fenceline up towards a narrow walkway. It cut around the edge of the pier, skirting the concrete trim of the city, before opening up to another, smaller dock. An old shipyard, looked like. Totally abandoned, save for the rusted shell of the building that at one time must have housed dry-docked cargo ships. The two men entered through a small side door, Phelps looking around the yard before shutting the door behind him.

River managed to duck behind some cargo crates in time to avoid being spotted, the cogs in his head turning at top speed trying to figure out what the fuck was going on here. There was one vehicle parked up outside the dry dock building, a plain looking van. Okay, so a meeting of some kind. He wondered if V’s friend could be here, though she didn’t drive and he’d only seen her interacting with the blond man, so surely she’d have arrived with him?

This seemed like an ideal opportunity to figure out who else was involved in the budding drug ring and missing women. River slowly approached the building, avoiding the various lakes of water that had gathered from the rain through the day. He couldn’t go in, that would run too many risks with all of the unknowns, but he had to get closer somehow. 

Assessing the building, it looked like he could reach the roof if he climbed the old cargo stacks and scaffolding around its eastern side. The climb was slow, taking his time to keep steady and quiet, but River made it to the flat roof and sent grateful thoughts to his ancestors for the pitched skylight windows scattered around the rooftop.

Rusted and abandoned though it may be, the structure was sound enough to hold his weight as River stalked over to the nearest skylight. Half the glass was smashed, giving him a clear line of sight and sound into the building’s hollow shell.

There was Phelps, following closely behind the blond man and still looking over his shoulder with suspicion. Up here, moron, River couldn’t help but think. He honed in on the presence of two other men already in the building. One broad, hulking with hairy arms and a miserable face. The other tall, lanky, with a total of five implanted eyes: two metal optics in place of organic eyes and a trio of red implants on his forehead.

“Haru, Phelps,” the broad one said, “‘bout time.”

Okay, the blond was Haru. River dialed his optic in, taking stills of all of them. His scanner wouldn’t work from this range, but he had an accurate image and the name ‘Haru’. He’d done more with less.

“What’s this about?” Haru replied, seeming pretty disinterested in the whole thing.

“Big Pete. He’s MIA, Bod’s not heard anything from him for the better part of a week now.” The hairy one gestured toward the tall one, who confirmed with a stiff nod. So that one was Bod. Another name down.

“Is he the one who sold to Anthony Harris?” Phelps asked. The hairy one looked to Bod, who nodded again.

“Yes,” Bod spoke, “he told me several times about selling to a contact by that name. He called him Tony.”

“Yeah? Well I call him Peter fucking Pan,” Phelps replied. A silence fell over them that felt tense and confused all at once.

“Is that supposed to mean something to me?” the broad one - clearly the leader - said.

“It will within the next 24-hour news cycle,” Phelps replied, shaking his head like a disappointed father. “He’s just been arrested.”

“For having Sanguine?” The leader was getting irate. “You’re supposed to keep that type of shit from happening, Phelps!”

“I look like a schmuck to you? Had nothing to do with Sanguine. He abducted a kid.”

“If it is not related to the product then what is the issue?” Bod interjected, crossing his arms and looking studious. Phelps sighed and paced in a tight circle, clearly on edge.

“Cops have already searched the house he was staying in and found nothing. Thing is, the kid he was caught with has been conscious long enough to give a statement. He insists there were other boys being kept where he was.”

“So?” Haru asked, turning to Phelps and looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“So, the cops are gonna keep looking to see where these other fucking boys are - if they find that fucker’s stash we could be roped up in this!” Phelps threw his arms up in anger.

“Shit,” the leader replied, rubbing his face and grimacing. “And we’ve got no way of figuring out where any of it could be because we can’t get through to Big fuckin’ Pete.”

“Perhaps you can find him?” Bod asked Phelps. “You should have greater access than us, no?”

“I gotta be careful right now,” Phelps replied. “Got this one cop, suspended for now, but I can feel him breathing down my neck.”

River felt his whole body tense up. He felt the instinctive need to hunker down and become smaller, as though even this vague mention of him would make them suddenly aware of his presence.

“Man, what did you do?” Haru asked.

“Think I musta touched up his girl. I was arresting her, this nasty hot latina, and so maybe I got a little friendly with her when I put the cuffs on. Now he’s watching me like a hawk, looking for any excuse to get me canned. Even suspended, he’s got my partner on my case. Another latina actually, maybe he’s fucking her too, I don’t know.”

River’s brow furrowed, angry at hearing him talk about V like that, angry at the memory of what he did to V, angry that this conversation wasn’t being live-streamed to Faulk’s fucking boss right now. River made a mental note to get in touch with Jiminez and tell her to lay off, or at least be more subtle. She didn’t need to get dragged into this.

“Do you still have her in custody?” Bod asked. “Perhaps we could bring her into the lab, use her as leverage?”

River’s blood was reaching a low boil.

“No dice, he made me let her go,” Phelps groaned. “She’d be hard to bring in anyway. From what I understand she’s kind of a big deal in the merc world. Came outta nowhere like six months ago and now she does NCPD subcons, among a horde of other shit. Knows a lotta movers and shakers.”

“Wait, is this chick called V?” Haru asked. River could have sworn his heart stopped for a second. How did this motherfucker know her name? His metal hand drifted to his holster, popping the tab and sliding Crash out. It made him feel just a little better knowing he had a firearm pointed at this bastard’s head.

“How’d you know that?” Phelps replied.

“Pretty sure her friend, Misty, works at the club. Saw a picture on her phone the other night, she told me it was her merc friend, V.”

“This friend a latina with cybernetic cat eyes?” Phelps asked. Haru nodded. River watched Bod and the nameless leader closely. They seemed to be having a silent conversation, exchanging meaningful looks he wished he could decipher. 

“You said this ‘V’ person only started working in the city in the last six months?” Bod interjected. When Phelps confirmed, another look passed between Bod and the leader, leaving River’s insides twisting around like he’d eaten week-old ramen.

“Look,” the leader said, “we’ll do what we can to track down Big Pete, and we’ll see what we can learn about the lady merc too. We need you to see what else you can learn about this Peter Pan guy. And if you get any leads on the merc, send ‘em our way, yeah?”

“Can do,” Phelps nodded, “for my usual fee.”

“Yeah, yeah, we got your money,” came the reply as the leader walked over to a cargo crate behind him. Lifting a bulging duffel bag, he handed it over to Phelps with a grunt. “Here’s your paycheck, officer.”

“Pleasure doing business, Gaur,” Phelps replied, turning to leave the building with Haru close behind. The remaining men left through the doors behind them. Gaur. The last name he needed. River chanted it in his mind. Phelps, Haru, Bod, Gaur. 

And Misty - not here, not part of it after all. V was right. He should have known. 

He had a lot of work to do, and it looked like it should start with learning more about Peter Pan.

Looking out over an Arasaka warehouse, the backdrop of the city humming distantly below their eagle’s nest, V felt a distinct buzzing behind her eyes. Relic malfunction. Must be the stress causing it to build up. Her head was throbbing, each too-fast movement adding a second’s delay to what her Kiroshi’s could process. Like lag in real life.

Goro must have noticed; he’d been quieter and more considerate than usual since she’d arrived. He led her up to this vantage point - a construction site eighty stories up - in silent steps. They sat now, perched on wooden palettes, watching the comings and goings in the warehouse.

“The parade is due to happen next week,” Goro said, nodding toward the building, “it is our best chance to speak to Hanako-sama properly.”

“I understand what you’re saying, Goro, just not sure if it’s the right thing to do,” V replied, squinting her eyes closed and letting the pressure provide momentary relief.

“And what would a thief know about the ‘right thing’ to do?” At one point those words would have sent her into a defensive rage, but looking at him now, V could see the telltale glint of jest in his eyes. Silver strands of hair fell about Goro’s face before V could formulate any kind of witty response, and his mirth turned sour at the realization that his hair tie had snapped.

“Here,” V said, standing up - possibly slightly too quickly - and coming around behind him, fresh hair tie at the ready, “let me help you.”

“You do not have to do that,” Goro replied, already sitting slightly straighter and letting her gather his hair in one hand.

“I know I don’t have to. Maybe it’s the ‘right thing’ to do. Maybe I just want you to think of me as something other than a low-born thief.” She combed her fingers through his hair, neatening as she went and reminding herself she definitely shouldn’t scratch at his scalp. Much like the good doctor, Viktor Vektor, Goro Takemura had also made it abundantly clear to V that any interest she had had in his direction was not reciprocated.

“You are only as low-born as I am myself, V. I do not think less of you for it, only for what you made of the future you were given.”

“I wasn’t expecting to have a future at all, to be perfectly honest,” V responded, passing his hair through the tie to recreate his usual look. “Plenty of folks from my way don’t make it this far.”

“From mine also. A future was never guaranteed to me, nor did I expect to see it. And yet look at how differently we conducted ourselves.” Goro had that way of making everything he said sound superior and sagely, so much so that V almost missed the paternal condescension in his voice.

“Alright, alright, I get it. You made the right choices, Goro, good job. I actually happen to think you’re too good for Arasaka.” Goro made a small grumbling sound of disapproval but didn’t stop her. “You know, you could always become a Nomad. Join the Aldecaldos, run away from all this Arasaka bullshit for good.”

V couldn’t quite tell if the sentiment came more from her or Johnny, but her conviction felt genuine all the same. Goro made another disagreeing noise.

“I do not think so, V.”

“Why not? Just because you’ve convinced yourself you know your place, y-your station, or whatever?” V felt some of her awareness slipping with the buzzing in her head, having to consciously remind herself that she was tying Goro’s hair when her hands froze in place.

“No.” The firm, clear tone of Goro’s response helped V clear her head, and she set about twisting his hair through the tie.

“Why then, Goro?”

“Because running away is not always the solution. In fact, it rarely helps at all,” he said. V finished with his hair, letting her hands rest on his shoulders and thinking about the depth of his words. “Tell me, V, when you ran away to Atlanta, did it solve the problems you had in Night City?”

“No.”

“And when you ran from Atlanta and came back to this place, were your problems solved then?”

“No.” V thought about Hellman. About Scorpion, about River, about Johnny, about Misty.

“And when you ran away from the Arasaka guards at Konpeki Plaza, did it solve your problems?” Goro turned where he sat to look up at her, causing V’s hands to fall to her sides.

“No.” Her throat was getting tight. The buzzing behind her eyes intensified. That familiar warning cropped up in her vision again. Relic malfunction.

“No. Your friend died, and so did you. Running away does not usually solve anything at all.”

V wanted to shout. She wanted to cuss Goro out for mentioning Jackie at all. He didn’t deserve to talk about him. She didn’t deserve to think about him, to remember him for everything that he was and everything he would never be. Because of her. Because she took that fucking chip from his hand and put it in her own head. Because she left him in the backseat of that car. Because she couldn’t stop running away. Fuck. Of course Goro was right.

‘Wise old no-good bastard,’ Johnny’s voice supplied. Although V couldn’t see him, she could hear him so clearly it was like he was standing right next to her. Relic malfunction. V sighed.

“Where were you when I needed to hear that?” She heard her own voice sounding thin, croaking around each sound.

“Perhaps it is only now that you needed to hear it, and so I am precisely where I should be.” Goro’s lips moved a quarter-inch, his own approximation of a comforting smile, and V took a seat beside him on the pallett. She looked back out over the city, wondering if this was precisely where she should be. The inevitable center of her universe.

“Thank you, Goro.”

“You are welcome.”

“For what it’s worth, I still think you’d make a better nomad than a ‘Saka guard dog any day.” He made another microscopic noise that V had come to learn was a kind of laugh.

“Thank you. Perhaps I will think about it.” The certainty in his voice told her all she needed to know.

“You won’t do it.” She looked down at her hands, they seemed to be on some kind of lag. She watched them move, each finger leaving a drifting echo of itself in her vision like old movies, the framerate trying to keep up with the motion.

“Why do you say this?”

“Think you might be as bad at doing what makes you happy as I am.” V thought about River again. The way he held her at the Soul Cellar, his lips against her hair. I think of you all the time when I listen to this song, he’d said. All the time. And she’d slapped him. Hard, blackened fingers almost flaming. Because running away had been easier than asking questions.

“Perhaps you are right,” Goro replied with a thoughtful hum.

“Look at us, just a couple of pathetic people-pleasers.” V’s sight flashed again with the warning. Relic malfunction.

‘Think we should get goin’, kid,’ Johnny said from her mind, ‘you’re lookin’ a little blue around the gills.’

“For what it is worth, V,” Goro said, unknowingly interrupting Johnny’s concern, “I would very much like to see you happy.”

“Ditto,” V replied with a smile. “Think we’ve both given enough of our lives to the Arasaka corporation, Goro. Might be time for you to retire.”

“It might be, but then I would have to live in this country forever.” Goro cast an arm out dismissively over the city. “With its food and its unclean air. I fear I would miss home too much.” 

V wondered what that was like - having a home to miss. Something about Night City had always tugged at the deepest part of herself; she clearly belonged here, but had there ever been a home for her here? H10 was a safe haven, but felt too hollow to be home. Mama Welles’ house was probably the closest she’d come, but since Konpeki it wasn’t the same. Never would be, without him. 

She was always welcome with the Aldecaldos, even if it didn’t feel like home. Panam, Mitch, and even Saul had made it clear to her that - in their eyes - she was one of them. Going back to them now, after Scorpion, seemed impossible. But, maybe if she wasn’t the only outsider, it might be easier. Maybe Goro would see there’s more to this place than Night City’s unclean air.

“Hey, Goro? Could you promise me something?” The buzzing got louder and V’s voice sounded muffled. Relic malfunction.

“What would you like me to promise?”

“That you’ll come with me to the nomad camp and look at the stars, just once before we’re through.”

Whatever Goro’s response was, V didn’t hear it. She didn’t hear anything, except the buzzing. She blinked and Night City reeled ahead of her on an endless circuit, high-rises stretched up forever only to become high-rises again at the bottom of her vision. Towers into towers into towers. And then, everything into nothing, light into dark. Blackness.

It was almost dark when she came back. The sun had finished dipping behind the taller craggy desert outcrops, an orange blaze on the horizon rapidly turning blue across the sky. She was in a motel room. The same Sunset Motel room she’d left Hellman in at the start of this same day, she slowly realized.

V’s muscles stretched and groaned beneath her skin as she sat up, wary of moving her head too fast. It was quiet, as quiet as it got around the Sunset at least. The bar was several doors down, and only one loud argument taking place in the parking lot drifted up over the balcony. Not a peep from Johnny, and no more relic malfunction notifications.

She blinked, holding her eyes closed for several long seconds. No buzzing there anymore, but it did feel like she’d gone ten rounds with several Animals. 

V gripped the edge of the bed, shifting her feet to the ground and standing with a tentative stretch. Everywhere hurt. Even her nail beds were sore and sensitive. She ran one hand through her hair, untangling as she went, and took her phone out to assess Johnny’s damage.

Shit. Johnny had taken over before, but never like this. There had been brief moments, times when she’d become too overwhelmed, and he’d taken the wheel. She trusted him enough to keep her safe, but it was getting harder to avoid the reality of what was happening.

She was dying. Becoming him. V’s breaths were labored, felt like the more she tried to steady herself the harder it was to get oxygen. Focus, in and out, in and out. For all that he’d supposedly demanded Goro bring her here, Johnny seemed to have nothing to say for himself now. Even still, V felt a certain weight in her, a knot deep in her stomach, and she knew he was still there.

V tried to remember anything about what had happened before she woke up here. She’d been on the roof, talking to Goro and doing recon ahead of the parade. Before that, wallowing in the desert. Before that, getting Scorpion killed for something as worthless as her life. Before that, she was with River, slapping him over his pics of Misty.

Misty.

V opened a new message on her phone.

She’d been putting it off for too long. Trying to run from it and avoid it. Whatever was going on at Akuma, she couldn’t ignore it any more. She had to get to the bottom of it, and she had to keep Misty safe. Her phone lit up, but V’s heart fell at the realization that it wasn’t a reply from Misty. 

Anxiety swirled through V’s stomach like an eddy, growing with each sentence. I think you're in danger. He had no idea how true that was. She headed for the door, ignoring the twisting rebellion from the knot of Johnny inside her. It didn’t matter if she’d just been knocked sideways by the relic; River needed her help, and she intended to be there for him. If she wanted any kind of chance at real happiness, she knew now that she couldn’t run forever. 

Chapter Text

Break-ins are the second-most common crime in Night City. Second only to assault - typically instigated by drugs, alcohol, or both - break-ins are the bread and butter of any NCPD rookie. River remembered his own beat-walking days in his early twenties. Fresh-faced, convinced he was going to save this city from itself, fix the NCPD from the inside, figure out his place in the world.

Now, sitting in Mack’s driver’s seat in the dark with the lights off and the engine cut, watching the last staff member leave the Heywood NCPD-contracted lab, River tried to remember everything he could about those break-ins. The ones he solved: what gave the perp away? What mistakes did they make? The ones he never solved: what made it impossible to fix? What tips could he use tonight to cover his tracks?

He’d never really broken into a building before. Even at the Red Queen’s Race, he sat back and let V do all the heavy lifting of breaking and entering, waiting until she was out in the open again to jump her. 

He checked his phone. She still hadn’t replied to his message. She already had so much to deal with, and she’d told him she’d call him. Maybe he shouldn’t have sent it at all. But he had to at least try to warn her about Phelps and the others. 

In a way, he guessed he should be thankful to have something else to occupy so much of his mind now.

Trying to get into the head of a criminal was something he’d done before, but the stakes had never been this high. His eye flashed blue as he played the clip again.

Arif Iqbal with the WNS News. A routine roadside inspection led the NCPD to the trail of a dangerous abductor and murderer. Peter Pan. Dashcam footage of the man being shot as he fled from his car, a kid gagged and bound having fallen from the passenger side. Levar Martinez, aged 17. Missing a month ago.

Randy’s shoes. The kid was wearing Randy’s shoes. He knew those shoes, he’d bought those shoes less than two years ago, watched Randy open them on his birthday, watched him put Tainted Overlord stickers all over them. Joss had been pissed at the time, saying he wasn’t being respectful of River’s gift, but River didn’t care. Just wanted to see the kid happy.

And here were those same fucking shoes. On this kid, who was now in a morgue downtown, his life ended by the septic shock that resulted from the toxic cocktail of drugs and hormones in his system. River opened his phone again, one last desperate attempt.

Randy hadn’t responded to a single thing. And now here were his shoes on the kidnapped body of Levar Martinez. River took a steadying breath and left the truck. What had been afternoon drizzle was approaching an evening downpour, and he made his way to the back of the lab building at a steady jog to avoid the worst of it.

An abandoned fire escape and a broken window shutter made entry surprisingly easy, even though River had to contort into a shape far too small for comfort. Once inside the lab, the real work began. He’d never been in this building, so he’d have to go the old-fashioned detective route: start where you are, use what you have, do what you can. 

The cops on patrol had shot Peter Pan, real name Anthony Harris, but thankfully they hadn’t killed him. River was less thankful for the perp’s apparent comatose condition. But, if what he remembered about the advances in the lab department was correct, Harris could be somewhere in this building. 

There’d been some serious development in unconscious BD retrieval in recent years. Say you’ve got a victim whose injuries are so severe they’re in a chemical coma for their own protection, but you’re still searching for the suspect. You hook the vic up to one of these high-tech lab machines, it records their unconscious thoughts, and then you get a professional BD editor to delve into the recording and work with detectives to establish what clues the victim’s mind can provide.

River figured if it worked one way, surely it could work the other; the perp’s unconscious thoughts could provide crucial information about any other potential victims. So, if the NCPD were using this technology on Harris, it would stand to reason that he’d be here in the lab.

The floor River entered on was a no-go. Plenty of procedure rooms and operating theaters, but all empty. He used the stairwell and headed down to the next level, slowly working back towards street level, hoping for a swift exit after he had what he needed.

Eventually, he found a room done up like a playroom for kids, an observation window on one wall and a row of filing cabinets on the other. The cabinets looked modern, not archival. Keeping things on paper was the safest way to keep it away from netrunners. He snuck in, checking over his shoulder before letting the door close behind him. River headed straight for the cabinets and started scanning obsessively for ‘Harris’.

He had to use his official scanner to grant access to the files, pulling open the drawer and fishing for Harris’ folder. He pulled it out and barely made it past the patient demographics when he heard a woman clearing her throat behind him.

For the tiniest moment, River’s heart leapt at the idea that it was V. She always managed to show up when he least expected her to, lending a helping hand or being a flirt or batting her eyelashes at him for a favor. Even with how they’d left things between them, even with the turmoil he was being dragged through now, he was turning to face her with half a smile already in place.

It wasn’t V.

“Yawen,” he said, smile dropping away and heart settling from its leap, “I-I didn’t think anybody was here.”

“Nobody is supposed to be here. Why are you here?”

“I’m just looking for anything that can help me.”

“Help you what - get fired? Aren’t you already suspended? What is wrong with you?” There was that shrill tone he was so used to by now. They were never a great couple, but they skated by on common interests and basic chemistry long enough to be his only ‘serious’ relationship. But River’s backbone was like wet cement when they were together, and Yawen had always been a fucking bulldozer.

“Look, I don’t need much, ju-”

“No, you look,” she interrupted, crossing the lab and snatching the file from his hands. She turned it over to look at the patient details. “You could get me fired, breaking into here like this. What do you want with Anthony Harris?”

“Have you been working on him?”

“He’s a vegetable,” she said, looking at him like he was an idiot. Shit, is that what my type is? Women who think I’m fucking stupid? “Why do you want to know what I’ve been doing with him?”

“Yawen, I’m desperate,” River began, hoping against hope that he could make her forget all the times he pissed her off and remember the handful of times he made her happy. “Randy’s missing, and I know Harris is behind it.”

“How do you know that?” River couldn’t help but notice that she didn’t offer an ounce of sympathy, though he kind of admired it. She wasn’t made for the detective life, but even as a lab technician, she was a great cop: evidence first, emotions later.

“Saw the news footage, that kid Levar Martinez was wearing Randy’s shoes when they found him. Randy’s been missing for a coupla weeks. I know it’s Harris.” River’s voice didn’t waver, he had to show her how certain he was, how right.

“River,” she paused, looking him up and down and softening a little. Maybe he looked as shitty as he felt. “I’m sorry. But, what do you want me to do? Harris’ brain scans all indicate minimal activity.”

“I’ve read you guys have been working on influencing patient’s dreams to get BD scans from them. Is that right?” He took a step closer to her, closer to the file in her hands.

“Well, we have been working on it, but only with specific candidates. Only children, and autistic children at that. From what I’ve seen, there’s no evidence that Harris is on the spectrum. This might not even work for him.”

“But it might?”

Yawen was silent. Her cyber-enhanced gaze flickered between his eyes, then down to the folder in her hands, then down to the ground as she sighed. She took a step forward, putting them centimeters apart.

“There is a minute possibility that it might work. But I don’t see how you’d be able to get access to him or the necessary equipment whilst suspended.”

“Could you?” River was sure he was pushing his luck, but surprisingly Yawen laughed. She never laughed much when they were together, too serious and ambitious to enjoy herself (or so River always assumed). One of her long-fingered hands found its place on his upper arm and she smiled at him.

“You know, I was wondering when this was going to happen,” she said, chuckling when he only looked confused, “I wondered how long it would take for you to come crawling back. You always need something, a favor, a friend, a fuck, but I had thought you were past that now, yet here you are again. How long has it been?”

River was rooted to the spot. They hadn’t spoken in probably four months, hadn’t seen each other face to face for more than six months, but she wasn’t wrong. Their relationship was short, never getting past the eighteen month mark, but their…entanglement was much longer. He’d had a lot of lonely beer-fuelled nights. She was someone familiar. Safe. When he’d felt like the least lovable orphan in all of Night City, she’d been able to make him forget about it, at least for a while.

“Right,” Yawen broke the silence, rubbing her hand up and down his arm, “that’s it. It was right at the start of the year, wasn’t it? I’m not sure if I’m even making a difference in this place, Yawen. I just need to talk to somebody who understands. We didn’t talk all that much that night as I recall.”

River’s stomach started to churn as the memories resurfaced. How he’d turned up at her door like a hopeless stray. She let him in and listened for a short time, they drank, and soon enough she’d had him naked on his back on her couch, his mind blissfully empty.

Just picturing that scene now made him feel guilty and anxious. The idea that his body was in any way her’s to touch felt innately wrong. Even her hand on his arm now, touching him somewhere that his heart knew belonged to V, had him backing up a stuttering step.

“It’s okay, River,” Yawen continued, stepping closer again, “I was almost beginning to miss you, y’know. Parts of you, at least. Maybe I can take a closer look at Harris and see if he’s responsive to stimuli, and maybe we could split a bottle of Centzon sometime. My treat, don’t worry, I know Centzon is a little out of your bracket.”

“Actually, Yawen, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Even with her cybernetic eyes, it was easy to see the shock on her face at River’s sudden development of a spine. Her obvious surprise only bolstered his confidence. “I’m seeing someone.”

Okay, so maybe it wasn’t God's honest truth, but he had every intention of making it true, which to River amounted to more or less the same thing.

“Wow.” Yawen’s calculating smile was such that River couldn’t even feel relief when she stepped away from him. “Let me guess, someone else you can use up for all she’s worth? Or, with this new attitude you’re sporting, maybe some down-and-out lost cause with a nice ass that’s finally made you feel like a real man? Lucky woman, either way.”

“You don-”

“I think it’s time you left.” Yawen’s voice reverted to the cold tone River remembered best. He had to push aside the torrent of things he wanted to say. How he wanted to defend V’s honor. Was she a down-and-out lost cause? There wasn’t time to dwell on that now, not when Randy’s life was on the line.

“What about Harris?”

“I’m suddenly feeling much less inclined to examine him.”

“You know what?” River was a pot boiling over. A rope pulled too taut. However you wanted to put it, he was ready to snap.

“What, River?!” 

“What if your bosses find out about your first exam in med school? You know the one, you passed with flying colors, got fast-tracked through the programme because of your ‘superior intellect’. What if your bosses find out about the fire that broke out in the building that day? The one that had the place evacuated and shut down, right as they were due to grade the exam papers.”

“You wouldn’t,” she seethed, metal eyelids narrowing at him.

“I would do anything to get Randy back alive.” River could tell she believed him. He had to secure her help before he left or this was all for nothing. “I will find you some relevant stimuli for Harris, can I count on you to examine him and send me what you find?”

“After this, I never want to hear from you again,” she said quietly, jaw clenched tight. River took a step closer, trying to loom over her just a little.

“That a yes?”

“Yes,” she hissed, “now get out of here before I change my mind.”

“Thank you. It really means a lot to me,” River replied, quickly shifting past her and headed for the front door as fast as possible.

River made his way back to Mack and hauled the driver side door shut just in time for the rain to reach biblical levels. His phone pinged just as he settled, and his heart pounded at seeing ‘La Tigresa’ across his screen.

She was going to meet him. She wanted his co-ords so she could see him ASAP. River sent them immediately, more than happy to wait right here in the truck until she could get to him, thanking her and apologizing once again. 

So, there was some hope. Or maybe she just wanted his intel. Either way, he needed her now more than ever. Especially after things went so badly with Yawen; he never expected to pull the blackmail card out on her, but he wasn’t lying when he said he’d do anything for his family.

Another NCPD bridge burned. Between Han, Yawen, and the likes of Phelps, River was beginning to wonder if he really was the only good cop in Night City. But no, he knew that wasn’t the case. He knew all hope wasn’t lost. He got his contacts up on his HUD and rifled through til he found her. She picked up on the second ring.

“Sir?”

“Jiminez, how many times do I have to tell you to call me River?”

“At least once more, I expect,” she laughed. He could see from what was visible of her background that she wasn’t at work, which was a relief. “How are you holding up since the suspension?”

“Not great, but I didn’t call you about that. This is about Phelps.”

“What about him, sir?” Immediately she was alert and upright, like a working dog ready for an order.

“I need you to back all the way off of him, alright?”

“But sir-”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Rosália,” he interjected, knowing it would make her cringe.

“Just Rosa is fine, please.”

“Jiminez. Rosa. I want you to focus on looking out for yourself. You’re a good cop and you’ve got the makings of a great detective. Don’t let a bad apple like Phelps sidetrack you from what matters.” He didn’t want to get too far into his concerns for her. River knew the second he mentioned anything to do with Phelps’ involvement with these Akuma guys, she’d be like a dog with a bone.

“Sir, I’ve been following Phelps for the last week.” Shit.

“The last week?"

“He attended a covert meeting with some drug runners by the Arasaka pier just last night.” Well, there goes the idea of keeping her away from danger.

“I know he did, Jiminez, I was there.”

“Sir?”

“What can I say? I’ve been following the prick too. So, if you were there, if you were listening to that meeting, you know how he talked about you?” River asked, thinking about Phelps’ implication that River and Jiminez were sleeping together. Thinking about the threatening way he talked about her.

“Phelps continues to not have a fucking clue, what else is new?” Jiminez snickered. “Honestly, I’m more worried for V. Is she okay? Have you heard from her?”

Right, the last time Jiminez saw V, it was when she stormed off on them after totalling the Bella Blanca in the side of a police cruiser. She had no idea about the Soul Cellar, or the mess that came after. 

“I’m seeing her tonight. I’ll make sure she’s safe from Phelps. I need you to make sure you keep yourself safe, okay?”

“You don’t need to worry about me, sir,” Jiminez smiled and River felt some relief, finally. It was nice to talk to somebody without malicious intent, for a change. “So, are you and her…together?” 

“Not exactly,” River began, feeling hot under the collar. He didn’t feel like he could lie to Jiminez as easily as he did Yawen, and although her tone was playful, her eyes had their usual inquisitive spark. He sighed, “I wouldn’t say so, no. To be honest, I think I messed it up.”

“Huh,” she began, a sly smile growing on her face, “I wouldn’t be too sure about that.”

“What makes you say that?”

“What she said to me that day when you let her off without an arrest.”

“What did she say?” River tried to ask in a nonchalant way, like he wouldn’t swallow glass to find out exactly what she said if it had anything to do with him still having a chance with her. Jiminez laughed, seeing straight through him.

“She said ‘no comparto, puta’: I don’t share, bitch. Think she was a little confused about our dynamic, but she’s got spirit,” Jiminez laughed again. River could picture V saying it and bit the inside of his cheek to avoid smiling like a gonk. “Seems like you’re spoken for, whether you like it or not, sir.”

“Well, I’ll bear that in mind. Have a good night, Jiminez. Keep yourself safe.”

“You too, sir. I’m gonna send you some files I dug up about one of the guys at Phelps’ meeting.” She held her hands up defensively at the look River gave her down the holo. “And then I’ll back off and mind my own business, I swear!”

They nodded their goodbyes and River sorted through what he could of the files on Haru, the only Night City native other than Phelps at that meeting. At least he could learn something while he waited for V.

Scorpion’s motorcycle was rapidly closing in on Night City, scuffed and battered, but thankfully still running fine. V couldn’t say the same for herself. Whatever sleep she got at the Sunset Motel after Johnny had taken over did nothing to restore her strength. She couldn’t remember her last proper meal, she knew she’d eaten with the Aldecaldos, but the details had blurred to nothingness after everything with Hellman.

Although her stomach twisted in hunger and pain, she couldn’t bring herself to stop anywhere to eat. The idea of putting food in her mouth made her feel sick. She had to get to River. Something in her gut knew she’d feel at least a little better when she saw his face. Oh god, his face, had she scarred it with that slap?

She’d find out soon. 

She took a corner slightly too fast on the approach to downtown, Scorpion’s bike skidding in the downpour. It only took a second to right it, but it was enough that she felt her head fill with static and pain shot through her when her boot made impact with the ground to correct her position. 

‘You should get some rest, V,’ Johnny said. His voice was in her ear like he was perched on the bike right behind her. Just the inkling of his presence had her hackles raised.

‘Got plenty of rest at the motel. Thanks for that, by the way,’ she mentally spat back at him. She was closing in on the nav point from River’s text.

‘I panicked, okay? And we both know that passing out for a few hours isn’t rest. You’re running on empty, kid.’

‘I don’t want to talk to you, Johnny,’ V replied, feeling her heart stuttering with the stress. River’s truck should be just around the corner now.

‘Oh yeah, run back to your fuckin’ badge, I’m sure he can get rid of the Relic without killing us both,’ Johnny drawled.

“Leave me alone!” V screamed into the nothingness around her. She squeezed the brake hard and threw the kickstand down at the edge of the sidewalk. The rain had plastered her hair to her head; wearing a helmet doesn’t seem worth it when you’re on borrowed time anyway. 

Her jacket, a sturdy leather one she’d borrowed from Panam, had kept the worst of the rain from her sweater beneath it, but her utility pants were soaked.

Johnny’s form fizzled into being in front of V, blocking the path between her and Mack’s glowing tail lights just ahead.

‘I’m serious, V. Keep going like this and you’re gonna make a big mistake.’ Any inkling V might have had that he was being thoughtful was overruled by his combative tone. Choosing between going home, miserable, guilty, useless, with nobody but Johnny for company, and walking less than half a block to be in the same space as the only person who could make her feel better couldn’t have been easier.

She walked straight through Johnny, reminding herself that he wasn’t really there. Her body ached everywhere, she’d caught the edge of a blade in the Hellman fight and had a small cut across her cheekbone, and she was positive that she looked like total shit. 

But she had to see River. She had to look him in the eyes and apologize. She had to hope it wasn’t too late to make amends.

Even just the silhouette of his oversized coat collar through the truck’s rear window had V’s pulse picking up. She jogged the last few steps to the passenger side door, holding herself back from a sprint, and wrenched it open in a hurry, climbing up into its shelter and looking immediately to him.

River’s eyes were already on her, V’s own concern mirrored back to her on his face. He looked pale, washed out compared to his usual bronze coloring, and he had dark bags under his eyes. He looked as bad as she felt. 

She checked his cheek. No burn, thank god.

“River,” she said quietly, almost in shock at the sight of him, the smell of him, his coat, his truck.

“V,” he replied, sounding like he was afraid she’d disappear if he acknowledged her.

“Are you o-”

“You’re okay?” They spoke over one another, stuttering and stumbling awkwardly. Then they both stopped at the same time and silence swallowed the cab of the truck once more. V was thankful that at least the hammering of the rain on the roof should have been enough to cover the sound of her heart battering into her titanium ribs.

She reached her hand out to him, moving slowly until she could rest her palm on his cheek. River’s eye closed immediately, his optic dimming in turn. She stroked her thumb back and forth; it didn’t feel scarred. V made an effort to speak again.

“Does this hurt?” she asked, her voice failing her part way through the question. River’s eyelashes fluttered as he looked at her, so beautiful. The tiniest hint of a delicate smile curled at the edge of his lips.

“No,” his voice was so low, a whisper almost. His own hand came up, cool metal caressing her cheek, just below her newly-acquired cut. “Does this?”

“Not much,” she replied, hesitantly smiling back at him. They fell quiet again, holding each other’s faces, and the initial awkwardness melted away. 

V let her eyes trail down River’s face to his mouth. Those full lips. She thought about leaning across the console and kissing him. Would that be okay? Would he still want that from her? Before she could move, he spoke again, clearer this time.

“I’m so sorry, V, I-”

“No, I’m sorry. I know we need to talk about what happened, but I want you to know that I trust you. I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you, I’m sorry I stormed out on you, and I’m so sorry that I hit you, River, oh my god I’m sor-”

He cut her off with a kiss. 

His pillowy lips were heavensent, and V started to feel better, even just from that brief contact. River’s other hand came up, holding her face so gently. It reminded her of the night he drove her home after the Red Queen’s Race; he treated her like she was made of glass. After a few blissful seconds, he pulled away.

“It’s okay, V. Honestly. Hell, in different circumstances I might have enjoyed it,” he laughed. V wanted to laugh too, but she didn’t. Her mind was still catching up with everything. She hit him. Of all people, V should have known better. River’s face fell and he slowly pulled his hands away. “I-I’m really sorry. For kissing you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“It’s okay,” she replied, bringing herself back into the moment. She wanted to kiss him again, to reassure him and get some comfort for herself, but his apology knocked her confidence. Did he regret it? V tried to focus on what mattered the most. “You said you needed my help?”

“Right,” he nodded, seemingly sobering himself, before adjusting to be more upright in the driver’s seat, “that’s right. Can I show you something?”

“Of course,” V said. River’s eye flashed and V’s HUD lit up with an incoming download. She rolled the clip as soon as it was ready, watching a news segment on her Kiroshis. Cops pulling someone over, guns drawn. The passenger door opens, a boy falls out, gagged and bound. Perp runs, cops shoot, perp falls. The clip ended and V’s vision was restored, River sat facing forward, a thousand-yard stare in his eyes.

“That’s what I need your help with,” he murmured. 

“What was that?” V could already feel bile building up at the back of her throat. Something wasn’t right.

“My nephew, Randy, is missing. The kid in that clip is wearing his shoes. I think…I know he’s been kidnapped.” 

“Oh my god, River. Are you okay?” V reached out to him, holding his arm in place of wrapping herself around him as tightly as she could. River felt his heart swelling; no cold, emotionless response, no investigator mindset, just pure warmth and concern from her. God, what a novelty that was starting to feel like.

“I…” he paused, looking at her with a sadness in his eyes that V knew all too well, “I don’t have a lot, V. But I have my family, and there is nothing I wouldn’t do to keep them safe.”

“Of course,” V nodded, squeezing his arm for some form of comfort, “of course, River. Just tell me what I can do; I’ll do anything.”

River smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He reached up for her hand, bringing it to his mouth for a quick kiss before holding it tight in his own.

“Do you think maybe you could come with me to my sister’s place?” River asked, looking at her sheepishly out of the corner of his eye. “I haven’t been in…a while. Would be great to have you by my side, to not have to go there alone.”

V wanted to cry. She wanted to tell him he would never have to go anywhere alone, never have to feel alone ever again if he didn’t want to, but she didn’t say that.

“River, of course I’ll go with you. We headed there now?” she asked. Looking at his slightly-too-prominent cheekbones, she thought about asking to stop somewhere so he could eat. When was the last time he had a proper meal with all this stress? She didn’t risk it, worried he’d be frustrated with her for slowing down their progress.

“Got one stop to make on the way, if that’s alright?”

“Of course.”

River pulled away from the curb and started heading to the outer limits of the city. Just as the perpetual reeling din of ads and skyscrapers started to fall away, he pulled up alongside a small market. Mack’s engine cut out and River turned to V.

“I just gotta pick something up, I’ll only be a second. Will you be okay here? Do you need me to get anything for you?” he asked. He didn’t offer the option of V leaving Mack, too scared she’d decide to leave altogether if she got out of the car.

“I’m fine, really,” V replied, tired but smiling, “I’ll just wait here.”

River wanted to ask if she was sure, but she was already gesturing for him to go, so he hopped out of the truck and made a beeline for his destination.

Waiting in the car, V felt her fragile bloom of what could eventually become a more positive state of mind get crushed under the digital boot of Johnny fucking Silverhand. He appeared on the back bench, leaning forward over the console to talk to her. V quietly appreciated that at least he hadn’t taken the empty driver’s seat.

‘V, you should go home. Between everything with Hellman and the relic malfunction, your brain’s fried. I should know, I’m stuck in here.’

‘I don’t wanna talk to you, Johnny,’ V replied, turning to look out the window of her door. She couldn’t see River anymore, but she’d rather watch the hustle and bustle of the market than listen to Johnny’s superior preaching.

‘I know you don’t want to, but I’m tryna look out for you, kid. How exactly are you gonna help your precious badge anyway? You really think you’re gonna find his nephew?’

‘I have to try.’ V shifted in her seat, hoping River would be back soon, like his presence would scare Johnny back to the shadows where she wanted him. ‘It’s his family.’

‘Exactly,’ Johnny replied, ‘his family. So why are you running off to we-don’t-even-know-where when you should be recovering?’

‘Leave me alone.’ V’s inner voice was stone cold. Johnny was in her head, he knew what she was thinking, what she was feeling, at least some weird approximation of it. He should know better than to talk about family to her.

Johnny shut up, perhaps sensing her building anger, but he didn’t leave. Just quietly filled the cab of the truck with his oppressive energy for the minutes it took for River to return. His presence was like a reaper, a constant reminder of her ticking clock. V was ready to start pulling her hair out by the time River was climbing back in the truck.

Johnny dissipated like a cloud, just like V hoped he would. River handed two small plastic bags to V as he started the engine up again. Nice smells wafting from one of the bags prompted her to look at the detective quizzically.

“Some food,” he smiled at her gently, “you look like you haven’t had a proper meal in days. Not had much of an appetite myself, so I just grabbed us grilled cheese each, that okay?”

“Uh-huh,” V nodded silently, feeling a little misty-eyed. When had anybody looked after her like this? Thought about her like this? She glanced in the other bag briefly before River continued.

“I also got something for Joss, my sister. Just a peace offering. She and I haven’t been on the best terms for a while.” He didn’t elaborate and V didn’t press him on it, he already looked so tense with the stress from everything else, she didn’t want to make it worse.

Looking at what was in the bag, however, V’s eyebrows bunched in confusion. A white plastic tub with a label on the side reading ‘bloodworms’. What the hell kind of peace offering was that? She didn’t dare ask.

River was driving them further and further from the city center, his shoulders tight and hunched over the steering wheel. V could feel the air between them growing awkward. There was so much still to talk about, so much to clear up between them, but River’s nephew took precedence. V tried to focus on the work ahead of them, rather than everything still unsaid.

“So, what are we gonna do at your sister’s place?” she asked, fishing her grilled cheese out of the bag and taking the first tentative bite. It was crispy and fresh, tasted good quality too. Her stomach was thankful for even just this small morsel, and soon she was taking larger bites.

“Well, I’ve been to an NCPD lab downtown, talked to one of their scientists. The perp, Anthony Harris he’s called, is in a coma, near braindead. But, my contact has told me if I can get some data that could stimulate Harris’ brain activity, there’s a chance she can extract some BDs from him that might help us locate his other victims,” River explained, glancing to V every now and then to ensure she was following along, “I figure we could search through Randy’s things, see if we find anything we can send to her.”

“Her?” V asked, hoping she sounded innocent. River nodded in response, fighting back a smile as he thought about what Jiminez claimed V had told her when they met. Maybe kissing the merc earlier wasn’t as bad of an idea as he thought.

“Yeah, Dr Yawen Packard, she’s uh, an old friend of mine there,” he replied. V started chewing the inside of her lip at his sudden change in demeanor. 

“An old friend, huh?” 

“An old girlfriend, truth be told, but not for a long time now,” River answered. He offered up the information like a compulsion. V always seemed to drag the truth out of him without even trying. After how he’d kept the lengths of his investigation into Misty from her for so long, he was only more determined to tell her everything.

“Oh,” she replied quietly. River’s eyelid twitched with the urge to apologize to her. He wanted to start grovelling like some pathetic gonk. She touched my arm, okay? But it didn’t mean anything, I swear. I told her I was seeing someone. I only want you.

He surprised himself at the thought. I only want you. But shit if it wasn’t true. He didn’t say anything else, afraid that if he opened his mouth he might actually say the words, and god only knows what would happen then.

Both grilled cheeses were finished and forgotten by the time they reached the outskirts of the city. V glanced over at River, wondering where they were going. She didn’t have to wonder for long. Not five minutes past the last city buildings and they were turning into Red Peaks trailer park. 

The rain had finally started letting up; Mack’s tyres pressed deep grooves into the red clay as River pulled to a stop in the depths of the park. There were probably five or six trailers surrounding them. A woman sat on a plastic chair on the porch of the furthest one, a lit cigarette hanging from her lips as she peered out at the truck from under the porch roof.

“That’s my sister, Joss,” River supplied, seeming to procrastinate getting out of the truck, “I used to come here a lot to see her, but…like I said it’s been a while.”

V reached across the console and took River’s hand in her own, running her thumb along his knuckles. He watched their hands intertwined, squeezing her fingers intermittently.

“I’m gonna be right here with you, okay?” V said, reaching across with her other hand to touch his jaw, softly guiding him to look at her, “you’re not alone.”

“Thank you, V.” His sad smile warmed her chest. V turned to get out of the truck, stopped by River’s hand on her arm. “Wait, I’ll get it.”

“Honestly, River, it’s okay,” V laughed.

“Please?” His eyebrows turned up in the middle and for a second V was reminded of Fornido. “I like doing it.”

“Suit yourself, hidalgo,” V replied, sitting back in her seat to wait for him to come around to her side. There was no way he was trying to check out her ass in these pants, on a day like this. No, this was just further confirmation that he was every bit the true gentleman V saw in his eyes.

He held the door open for her but notably didn’t reach for her hand, instead taking the plastic white tub of bloodworms from its bag. V forgave him, feeling the steely eyes of Joss on them even from this distance. She trailed close behind him, half using him as a shield, observing closely when Joss stood up to greet them.

“River.” Her voice sounded cool and calm, but her face was impossible to read. She looked weathered, tough, and sturdy. V instantly admired her. When V felt Joss’ eyes flicker in her direction she quickly looked to the ground, afraid she’d be admonished for making direct eye contact.

“Joss,” River replied, offering out the bloodworm tub, “brought this for the babies. How are they?”

What the fuck? V couldn’t tell if the thought was hers or Johnny’s, but either way she was feeling confused. She looked up to see Joss taking the tub, one corner of her mouth moving one miniscule fraction of a millimeter. Was that a smile?

“Not babies anymore,” Joss said, nodding her head behind her, “come on inside, let’s talk.”

River turned to V before taking the first step up onto the porch, whether he was looking for comfort or he wanted to comfort her, she couldn’t tell. They walked into the trailer, V shadowing River, one hand ghosting contact on his back for some kind of reassurance. 

Joss turned to them once they were just inside the door, twisting the lid off of the plastic tub and grabbing a pair of the longest tweezers V had ever seen from the sideboard against the wall.

“Watch this,” Joss said, plunging the tweezers into the tub and retrieving a writhing mass of living red lines. She turned to the sideboard again, which V now saw was home to an enormous tank, and dipped the tweezers into the water. 

Motion in the tank was instant. Fish emerged from behind plants and under rocks and wood pieces, swarming around the bloodworms to feast. V’s jaw dropped and she couldn’t keep her thoughts inside for any longer.

“What the fuck?” she said, amazed, “are those real fish?”

“That’s right,” Joss replied, looking proud.

“You’re not kidding about them not being babies anymore,” River interjected, leaning down enough to get a good view of the massacre, “you’ve taken good care of them.”

“At least there’s something you can say that about,” Joss said in a morose tone. Tension filled the air and V suddenly wondered if those fish would take her apart like a bloodworm if she put her hand in there.

“Joss-”

“Why don’t you just come out with it, River?” Joss interrupted, glancing between River and V, “this is about Randy, right?”

“It is,” River nodded, solemn and clearly nervous, “Joss, there’s no easy way to say this. Randy’s been kidnapped.”

“What?” she replied. The tub and the tweezers were forgotten, any hint of pride or anger or sadness replaced by the worry reserved for mothers. Joss started shaking her head, walking around a corner further into the trailer. River and V shared a brief look before following her, finding her pacing in the kitchen.

“Joss-”

“What do you mean he’s been kidnapped? How do you know that?”

“Perp’s in custody right now,” River replied, managing to stay level and calm despite looking so on edge. V felt like a fly on the wall, terrified and awkward and wishing that just about anything else was happening right now.

“So why aren’t you questioning him? Finding out where my son is?!” Joss turned on them, her gaze still shifting to V between hasty breaths.

“He’s in a coma,” River said, holding out a placating hand and gesturing to V “We’re here to look for evidence that can point us in the right direction to find Randy now. This is V. She’s agreed to help. V, this is Joss, my sister, Randy’s mom.”

“V.” Joss said like it was an accusation. River’s hand came to rest respectfully in the middle of V’s back, prompting her to look the other woman in the eye. V knew too well that she looked nothing like the sort of person anyone would want looking for their son, especially right now, but she was desperate to earn Joss’ trust. “Are you a cop?”

“No,” V replied, forcing her voice to sound sure. It felt like a test; she didn’t know if the truth was the right answer in the long seconds of silence after she spoke, but River’s hand at her back was enough to keep her on her feet at least. Joss let out a relieved sigh.

“Good,” she said with a promising finality, before turning to River, “you need to search Randy’s trailer?”

“If you don’t mind. I know he doesn’t like people going through his stuff.”

“It’s okay,” Joss nodded, despondent, turning to put her cigarette out in the kitchen sink, “go ahead.”

“C’mon, V,” River said quietly, ushering V out the way they came, “I’ll show you around.”

Chapter Text

The trailer River led V to was just beside the one they’d left. It was about half the size, and inside it looked totally trashed. It reminded V of some of the places she used to squat in as a teen. It was almost comforting in its complete disorder.

Graffiti and punch marks on the walls, pizza boxes, beer bottles, dirty clothes. Hell, all that was missing was a bong, though she was sure there was probably one in here somewhere. 

“Randy’s trailer,” River announced as they took in the dirt and mess of the kitchenette, “he’s a troubled kid, to put it lightly. Drugs, petty theft, that kind of shit.”

“Oh,” V replied, not sure what else to say. She was desperate to get a gauge on how River felt about that. In those few words, he’d summed up most of her own adolescence. Would he think less of her to know that? Was she wrong to want to live up to the tigresa persona? “Do you think it’s related to the kidnapping?”

“Most likely,” River answered with a shrug, “Randy’s the kind of kid who always knows how to find trouble. I’ll start in the bathroom, you mind searching in here?”

“S-sure,” V said with a small nod. River offered something like a comforting smile and headed into a room just beside the kitchenette. V turned to the countertops first, finding takeout menus and magazines and not a whole lot else.

With every piece of trash she moved or lifted, V was terrified to find drugs in the trailer. What would she do if she found some? Tell River, she reminded herself. She’d tell River immediately, and he would help her get rid of them. Not a big deal. Doesn’t have to be a big deal. 

V opened the fridge and immediately regretted it. It was empty, but the stale air wafted out and had her clapping a hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting. The grilled cheese turned slowly in her stomach. Her legs started to feel weak and shaky, and she stumbled to a metal-framed chair at the small table in the corner to catch her breath.

Her chest was tightening, her vision blurring slightly at the edges. Being in this room without River felt stifling. It was too familiar, like she’d been thrown into her own past and trapped there. V leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and pushing the back of her head down to focus on breathing. In and out, nice and slow. You’re okay.

Then she opened her eyes. There, in the corner of the room, discarded and forgotten under the kitchen table. A clear orange plastic cylinder with a white child-proof cap. To V, it was more terrifying than a loaded gun. The cylinder looked opaque along one side, like there was still something - or things - inside it.

Tell River. The thought entered her head in Johnny’s voice, and the surprise of it sent her across the room, knocking the chair over in her haste.

“River!” she called out desperately, her voice sounding raw even to her own ears. He came running, and the instant he was in front of her - even as worried as he was - she started to feel better.

“V? You okay? What is it?” River gave her a quick once over, finding no obvious injuries or threats. V pointed to the kitchen table shakily.

“Under there,” she said, “could you get them? Please?”

River half expected to find a dead rat or something under there. Needless to say he was surprised to find a half-empty pill bottle, rolled up against the wall of the trailer. He squatted down and reached under the table to grab it, holding it up to V questioningly. She nodded, a hand on her chest like she was trying to soothe herself.

“C-can you get rid of those? Please?” Her eyes started to shine unbearably, and tears fell easily down her cheeks. River shoved the bottle deep in his coat pocket and was back in front of her in less than a second. 

Tentatively, he reached his hands out to her arms, stroking them light enough that he wasn’t even sure she could feel it through her leather jacket.

“Of course. I’ll get rid of them right now, okay? I’m gonna go get rid of them, and then I’ll be right back, okay, V?” He waited until he’d established eye contact with her and she gave him a teary nod before running out of the trailer. 

He wanted to throw the bottle to the ground and empty a clip into it for making V upset, but he settled on emptying the leftover pills onto the metal of the porch and crushing them under his heel. When there was nothing but dust, he kicked at it until it was dissipating into the puddles in the clay dirt around the trailer. The bottle got hucked into the abyss and River scrambled back into the trailer.

V stood exactly where he’d left her, tears still pouring from her face and shaking like she’d just taken an ice bath.

“Hey,” he said softly, approaching her with his arms out, palms open and empty, “hey, I’m back. They’re gone, okay? You’re okay.”

Once River was within reaching distance, V collapsed against his chest, sobbing and clutching at him. He wrapped his arms around her immediately, tightening until he couldn’t feel her tremors anymore.

“I’m sorry,” she wailed into his chest, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” River replied instantly, one hand coming to the back of V’s head to hold her closer. He softly kissed the top of her head, stroking her hair down in a soothing motion. “It’s okay, V. You’re okay, honey, it’s alright.”

He held her there for several minutes, gently swaying them as her crying gradually died down to sniffling and then silence. V kept her face hidden in his chest, her hands somewhere between his coat and his vest, holding him against her like a security blanket. River adjusted his coat to cover as much of her as he could, still petting the back of her head and keeping his mouth rested against her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, voice strained and quiet. River kissed the top of her head again, squeezing her extra tight before releasing her enough to pull her face out to look at him.

“It’s okay, V.” The hand that had been on her head came down to her shoulder. “You wanna tell me what that was? We don’t have to talk about it, but if you do I’m ready to listen.”

“I,” V began, her throat blocking up at the thought of telling him everything. About Atlanta, about Dean. About what she did. “I’m sorry, I’m making this about me. We have to keep looking, we have to find Randy.”

“V.” River shook his head in a gentle kind of discipline. “I need to know you’re okay. I can look by myself, it’s alright.”

“Please, I really wanna help, I’ll be okay I promise.”

River smiled, the same sad smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, and V forced herself not to cry again. He guided her back to the kitchen chair, righting it and easing her down onto it, before standing tall and shrugging his coat off. Gesturing for her to lean forward, he wrapped it behind her, squatting in front of her to pull it close around her shoulders until she was totally enshrined.

“How about this,” he began, hands resting on her knees, “how about I search the trailer now so I can get rid of any more I find, give it a full clean sweep, and then you can join me and help look for more clues. That sound okay?”

“Yeah,” V nodded, absently wiping her nose. River stood and started searching the kitchenette with the thorough attention to detail of a drug dog. V took the opportunity to lean further back into his coat, resting her cheek against the furred collar and inhaling the rich smell of it. It was warm in here from River’s body heat, and the well-worn leather was soft and buttery against her fingertips.

Within a few minutes, V was more relaxed, and she took the opportunity to start taking stock of the trailer from her chair, still not willing to move from it until River had given her the all-clear. She’d seen him pocket something from the cabinet above the fridge a moment ago, before moving on towards the closet down the hall.

On the wall opposite to her, some shelving prominently featured a collection of vinyls along with a vintage-looking record player. Most of the vinyls were Tainted Overlord, and V felt a familiar nostalgic warmth curling in her stomach about it. She used to listen to them sometimes. Johnny’s approval made itself apparent too, and V felt a newfound determination to find Randy and bring him home.

“Tainted Overlord?” she called down the hall, hearing River moving boxes around before his voice came from somewhere at the back end of the trailer.

“Huh? Oh right, yeah. Randy’s favorite. I used to get him a new record every year for his birthday.”

“Sounds like you know him pretty well,” she replied, smiling at the detective when he appeared in front of her again, a small plastic bag in his hand. He smiled back and V delighted at the deepening lines around his eyes. He was so relieved to see her sounding more like herself again.

“Yeah, we were pretty close for a time. Joss had him when she was twenty-six, I was twenty-two, still felt like a kid myself. This trailer actually used to be theirs, I was here all the time when he was little, taught him how to tie his shoelaces, ride a bike, let him ride with me on my motorbike when he was six,” River laughed, “Joss did not thank me for that.”

“You had a motorbike?” V nearly snorted as she asked, though the second she started actually picturing the man in front of her on a motorbike she started to feel different pretty fast.

“Don’t laugh,” he chided playfully, “I was kind of cool once, y’know? Or at least, cooler than I am now.”

“Sure,” V replied like she didn’t believe him, still wrapped up in the visual of him in riding leathers, thick thighs braced on either side of a shining chassis.

“I’m just gonna get rid of these, okay?” He held the plastic bag slightly aloft. “Place is all-clear now. You still wanna search it with me?”

“Yes.” V hopped to her feet, pushing her arms through River’s coat and pulling it tight around her. “I wanna help. And before you ask, yes I’m sure. I’ll start in the bedroom.”

River left the trailer with a humble nod and V headed to the back of the trailer. Randy’s room looked about how she expected: messy, grungy, riddled with the knickknacks of adolescence. Fitness posters on the wall, weights on the floor, she wondered with a smile if this kid looked up to his uncle in that respect.

His nightstand had a locked drawer in it that was too tempting to ignore, and V had it open in less than a minute. A video game, weird thing to keep hidden, she thought, placing it on the table’s surface. Looking around the floor of the room, something under Randy’s bed stood out. 

A black briefcase. Bulky, heavy, almost definitely a tech carry-case. She pushed some papers aside on Randy’s desk to lay the case flat, calling out to River as she heard him re-enter the trailer.

“Hey Riv, Randy got the eddies for something like this?” She unhooked the clasps and opened the case as River entered the room, revealing a laptop she’d have killed to have when she was Randy’s age. River snorted in disbelief.

“Absolutely not. Where’d you find this?”

“Under the bed. He had that locked in his nightstand, too. Any idea why?” she replied, thumbing over her shoulder at the video game. River walked over to it, turning the packaging this way and that as he came to stand beside her.

“None. Something else he definitely couldn’t afford. The kids have never played a VR game this new, for one thing. Could be Harris sent it to him, maybe? An effort to draw him in?”

“Maybe,” V nodded, initiating a hack to override the locks on the laptop, “kids? Plural? Randy’s got siblings?”

“Yeah, Monique and Dorian, twins,” he said, smiling, “they’re younger, only eight. I’d introduce you, but they’ll be in bed by now.”

“That’s okay, not sure I’m very presentable right now anyway.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re perfect,” River replied without thinking, only realizing his wording after the fact. He cleared his throat, nodding towards the laptop. “So, anything on here?”

“I can take a look if you’d like? Scan any files, look for links to Harris?”

River nodded, not trusting himself to speak again, and pulled Randy’s desk chair out for her. V took a seat, bunching the lengths of River’s coat around her as she did. You’re perfect. And he thought she was the ridiculous one. Perfect. How could he say that after how she acted around a half-empty bottle of pills?

V was pulled back to the task when she felt one of River’s hands braced on the back of the chair. He propped his metal hand on the desk’s edge, leaning in over her to look at the screen together. Better focus up.

“Let’s take a look,” he prompted, kicking himself internally. Why did he have to let that thought slip? Hopefully he hadn’t made her too uncomfortable. 

V started browsing the laptop, beginning with Randy’s emails. Messages from his friends indicated he’d stopped replying to them a couple of weeks ago, and even then, the replies he’d sent were distant. He’d sent a link to a girl called Natalie, pretty clearly his output, and she seemed pretty disturbed by it.

V opened the link and found the hidden page Randy mentioned to Natalie. ‘Tony’s Shelter’ the heading of the webpage read. The more V scrolled, the worse she felt. The page was a trap, perfectly baited for boys like Randy - troubled kids, as River had put it. V recognized a lot of the language. It was exactly how she used to talk to girls in Atlanta. How Dean used to talk to her when she was a kid.

You’re just misunderstood, huh? Abandoned, forgotten, you don’t belong anywhere. But don’t worry, you’ve found a home now. I can be your home.

How many girls had she led down the wrong path, exactly like that? How easy had it been to follow Dean to Atlanta after he’d made her think he’d always be there to take care of her?

V started to feel choked up again, anxiety anchoring her to the chair and making her lightheaded. Don’t forget about the relic malfunction, she thought, or Johnny thought, that’s bound to be adding to this cocktail. 

She rushed back to Randy’s emails to find his conversation history with Harris. Randy called him Tony, and clearly looked up to him, found comfort in him. Harris led him on, encouraging a face-to-face meeting, Randy sounded excited about it, like Tony was the only one who really understood him. V felt like she was going to be sick.

“Are you seeing this?” she asked, voice croaking. River made a small noise of affirmation but didn’t say anything else. He didn’t feel like he could say anything, and he was worried that he might collapse to the ground if he tried. 

Randy had been groomed, expertly by the looks of it. Nothing sexual, from what River could see, but one of the emails did mention a video of some kind, and River’s mind was restless thinking about the possibilities.

“Think you can find the video Harris mentions?”

“Maybe, if Randy downloaded it, lemme check,” V replied, already scanning through the files on the laptop. It didn’t take long to find the video in question. 

It was a cartoon, an endless cycle of a grotesque smiling farmer and a cow hooked up to a milking machine. The cycle ended with the farmer beating the cow, and then instantly reverting to his smiling self. Disturbing to say the least, but River felt the briefest relief that it wasn’t sexual.

“What the fuck is this?” V asked, turning in her chair to look up at him. River wanted to hold her again, knowing he had no answers that would help. He shook his head, sighing and standing up to soothe some of the aching from his back.

“Fuck if I know. But it’s a start. If Harris sent that to Randy, it might prompt something in his mind now. Could you send it to me? I’ll get it to Yawen right away.” He paced a nervous circle around Randy’s room, looking at all the things he’d given this kid over the years. Clothes, books, his old weights set. Why had Randy gone to Harris? If he felt so alone and misunderstood. Why couldn’t he come to his uncle? There was a time when they’d been more like brothers. When did that change?

His HUD pinged with the file from V and he forwarded it to Yawen without opening it. He didn’t want to see that shit ever again if he could help it. Yawen’s response came soon after, she would work on it through the night as a final favor to him. She’d signed off ‘Hope whoever she is, she’s worth it, asshole’.

He huffed half a laugh at the shock of it, in the midst of all this shitstorm around him.

“Everything okay?” V asked, still perched on the chair, still wrapped up in his coat, still wide-eyed and sweet and soft and perfect.

“Yeah,” he replied, “Yawen said she’ll get started straight away. She also said I’m an asshole, and…some other stuff too. Doesn’t matter.”

V nodded, pulling the coat a little closer and looking around the room, a little lost. River thought about her reaction to the drugs; they obviously had a lot to talk about, but he didn’t know how to navigate asking. 

She let out a quiet yawn into the sleeve of his coat and he checked the time on his HUD. 23:47. He had no idea how long they’d have to wait for Yawen to get back to him, but he knew he didn’t want V to leave. He wondered when she’d slept last.

“V,” he began, hoping he was about to ask this in the right way, “would you mind…staying here? Until Yawen gets back to me, anyway? Don’t know what’s gonna happen from there, and I’d really like to have your help when it happens.”

“Of course,” she smiled, looking exhausted, “I’m too beat to head home right now anyway. I’d only be thinking about you - about Randy.” River couldn’t help but smile at her last-minute shift. God, she was so sweet.

“Thank you. Some of my stuff is still in the guest room in the main trailer. I’ll go grab you something more comfortable and dry to sleep in. You mind staying in here for the night?”

“Sure,” V replied. She wanted to stay in the same room as him, feeling too shaky to be alone, but there was no way she was going to be in the same room as Joss without knowing where Randy was first. She could handle five minutes alone in the trailer.

River left quick and quiet, not even asking for his coat back even though V knew it must have been cold outside tonight after all that rain. Johnny walked through the door more or less as soon as River left it.

‘So, a slumber party in a missing teen’s room tonight, huh? How romantic,’ he drolled unbearably. V swivelled in her chair to avoid looking at him, waiting for River to scare him off again. ‘He doesn’t scare me, cupcake.’

‘Sure, Johnny,’ V replied, deadpan and disinterested.

‘I just want to get you to look after yourself and I know you won’t listen to me when he’s here.’

V said nothing else, bringing her legs up onto the chair and wrapping her arms around her knees. She looked down into the dark corner she’d created of herself, hoping for some modicum of comfort. Johnny’s presence was inescapable, but he didn’t say anything else. 

Soon, the trailer door opened again, and River’s footsteps down the short hallway were blissfully loud and normal. He hovered in the doorway and V thought she should probably uncurl if she didn’t want him to worry about her.

“You okay?” he asked, eyebrows raised with obvious worry and his arms full of what looked like bedding. Well shit, she tried at least.

“Yeah, just tired,” she replied, trying something that could pass for a smile. River reciprocated it and dumped the bedding on Randy’s bed, separating it from an oversized flannel.

“Well, I brought you this to sleep in. It’s one of my flannels, pretty old now but I remember it being comfortable. I’ll make up the bed while you get changed if you want? Bathroom’s just down the hall.” He held the flannel out to her with a face so kind she almost cried again. But V held herself together long enough to stand from the chair and shrug his coat off, hanging it over the chair back and heading down the hall.

She spared one look at him over her shoulder before she went into the bathroom. He was in the throes of stripping the bed, tossing the old sheets to one side and shaking out the pillow and the duvet. Something so domestic and ordinary and it made V’s heart swell. That he’d take the time to do that for her, at a time like this, when he must be feeling so much himself. 

She pushed her way into the bathroom and shut the door behind her before she actually did start crying again. She dropped the flannel on the closed lid of the toilet and went about removing her rain-soaked layers.

V peeled off her borrowed jacket and boots, quickly followed by her thick socks and scuffed up pants, creating a small pile on the floor. Her arms ached as the still-damp sweater came off over her head. The debate to leave her bra on lasted one second, ultimately deciding it was also too damp and uncomfortable, throwing it on the pile as well. 

Picking up the old flannel, V brought it to her nose for a quick sniff. Sure enough, the familiar, comforting smell of River filled her senses. She took a steadying breath and pulled the shirt on, taking her time to do up enough buttons to cover all of her newly acquired bruises. 

Looking down at herself felt like an out-of-body experience; the shirt went down to her mid-thigh, nearly hanging off one shoulder, the sleeves overhanging her hands significantly.

Before she could leave the room, V caught sight of herself in the mirror and stopped short. Distantly, she realized she hadn’t seen her own face for days, and she barely recognized herself. Who was that girl? She definitely wasn’t La Tigresa.

La Tigresa seemed so far away now, stood here in some man’s old flannel like an output. Without the leather shell she came here in, V felt totally exposed. Vulnerable. 

God, what must River think of her now? Looking so small and pathetic, crying over a plastic bottle. Her days of being the sexy, untouchable La Tigresa were surely long gone after that display.

She leaned on the sink, forcing herself to look closer at her reflection, taking in the bloodshot Kiroshis and the new scratches and the gaunt skin on her face. 

She was a haunted house, filled with the ghosts of every version of her she’d killed and tried to bury. The naive girl, starving on the streets of Heywood. The optimistic idiot faithfully following a man to Atlanta in hopes of a new life. The manipulative spider, luring other girls to the same fate as her’s. The killer. The runaway. The merc. The fugitive. 

A mass grave with no room left for anyone to live. She wondered, almost absently, if there was any point in trying to live, in trying to really be someone, to embody herself. Before long, the last whispers of whoever she was would be gone, replaced by a ghost more powerful than any of hers.

‘Don’t think like that, kid,’ the ghost said mournfully, glitching into place behind her in the mirror. His gaze held hers more strongly than it used to only days ago.

‘Sorry, Johnny.’ Even in her head, her voice was weak and frail, cracking under the weight of his name.

‘We’re gonna fix this. You’re gonna live. Start acting like it.’ Contrastingly, he sounded clear and strong, speaking over her internal monologue effortlessly.

‘Not sure I’ve ever known how to do that.’ V slipped into a somber silence, her eyes drifting out of focus. Not looking at herself, not looking at him, neither here nor there. 

That’s how it had been her whole life, she supposed, never fully committing to one single state of existence. She’d had one foot in the grave since she was old enough to walk. She wasn’t sure she’d ever had something worth this kind of fight.

‘V.’ The severity of Johnny’s voice cut through her, refocusing her eyes on him. ‘You have something in the next room that’s absolutely worth this fight.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘Yeah I do, kid. Doesn’t take a detective to notice how you two look at each other. Plus I’ve got a front row seat to the insane hormone rushes you get around him.’

‘But you don’t even like him.’

‘What does it fuckin’ matter what I like?’ He spoke louder, gesticulating with his metal arm, his brow deeply furrowed. ‘This is your life, V. Your real, actual, fucking life happening right in front of you. It’s time to start taking part and making some fucking choices for yourself.’

Stood in this unfamiliar bathroom, barefoot, in this oversized shirt, V felt herself shrink into obscurity. Johnny, perhaps sensing this shift, suddenly softened. His eyes looked kinder, his voice quieter when he spoke again.

‘You’re still young, V. You could have any kind of life you want. If you want to be the sappy housewife of that ungainly beast out there - and I know you secretly do - you should go for it. He could make you happy. Don’t you wanna be happy, V?’

Before she could formulate any kind of response, Johnny blinked out and she was alone with herself again, heavier and lighter than she was five minutes ago.

She walked out of the bathroom, mentally listing objects in her surroundings to try and ground herself again, not feeling her feet hitting the floor beneath them. 

Tainted Overlord records. Teen magazines. Freshly made bed. River, sat at an angle in the desk chair, legs far forward and head leaning back over the backrest. She smiled at him, watching him adjust to sit upright as she approached.

Maybe, just this once, Johnny was right. He could make her happy. But would he want to, if he knew everything there was to know about her? About what she’d done? Now was hardly the time, but her mind wouldn’t settle until she’d told him everything. After everything he’d done for her, she felt like she owed him.

“Can I sit here, detective?” she asked, her voice sounding broken but her smile feeling genuine. 

“Of course.” River started getting up, stopping short when V placed a hand firmly on his shoulder.

“I mean, can I sit right here?” She gestured to his lap and watched him nod with a slack jaw. She tentatively rested her hands around his neck for leverage and brought her legs up across his thighs. He offered a hand to hold her crossed knees against him and supported her back with his other hand. V closed her eyes, getting that same blissful feeling she’d had at the Soul Cellar. You belong here.

“You okay?” River’s voice was quiet and soft, close enough to her ear to raise goosebumps along what remained of her original skin. V opened her eyes, facing him, close enough to breathe the same air. 

She brought one hand to the side of his face, gently stroking the rough stubble on his cheek and chin. Slowly, achingly slowly, she leaned her forehead against his own, closing her eyes once more. Just taking in the comfort of him for a moment before she had to start talking.

“I have…a lot to tell you. It’s not good and I don’t know how you’ll feel about it or how you’ll feel about me afterward. So, with that in mind, can I please kiss you before I start? Just in case?” she asked, pulling away far enough to look at his face in full.

River’s expression stayed neutral, but his hands held her tighter, closer, inviting her inward. She cupped the back of his head and brought their lips together. Their kiss was soft and slow and sad. Both of them exhausted, drained, feeling hopeless.

River didn’t want her to pull away from him. From his lips, his arms, his lap. His life. Whatever she had to tell him, he was determined to be okay with it. Maybe that was fucking stupid, but right now, especially right now, he couldn’t stomach losing someone else.

Their lips had to part eventually, he supposed. V’s face came into view and River’s heart stuttered at the wet streaks down her cheeks. He brought the hand that had been on her knee up to wipe them away, holding her face while she took a few deep breaths, gearing up.

“So,” she began shakily, “when I was a kid, I lived pretty rough. Didn’t know my dad, mom died young. Your classic Heywood orphan story, I guess. Lived mostly in dumpsters and alleys and sometimes in the church if Padre had the space for me. Went hungry a lot for a long time. 

“And then one day I met this guy. He was nice. Talked to me like an adult, listened to me, made me feel special. He’d bring me food, and then eventually pick me up to take me out for food, and then eventually asked me to be his output.”

V took a moment, looking at River for any signs that he was about to throw her out on her ass. Instead, he looked indescribably sad. He shifted his hand back to her knees to pull her a fraction closer, the hand at her back rubbing small, slow circles.

“Of course I said yes. He always took care of me, it seemed like the obvious choice. Anyway, when I was twenty-three, he convinced me that moving to Atlanta with him was a good idea. We could start over in a new place, really make something of ourselves. I was excited. Excited to be somebody else, to actually be somebody for the first time in my life.

“He had a couple of buddies out that way who had their own business. A club. So, we had jobs waiting for us. I thought I was gonna be tending bar or some shit,” V scoffed, “turned out the club was only one part of the business. See, one of his little chooms was studying to be a ripperdoc. More of a mad scientist, actually, and he was cooking up his own formulas for a bunch of popular drugs in the city. Didn’t take long for my input, Dean his name was, to get me hooked. I was strung out every day. There are entire years of my life I hardly remember.”

V stopped again, taking a few breaths, thinking of that life she used to live. River still didn’t speak. He didn’t want to interrupt her, and he was scared that if he started to speak then he would cry. Instead, he kept gently rubbing her back. He relaxed the hand that perched on her crossed knees to allow for a slow circling there too. Anything that might help. V cleared her throat to try to continue.

“My job, once I was a useless addict, was to bring in more girls. Girls like me, no families, nobody to miss them. They were gonna work in the club as dealers, like I did. Butter up some clients, get them interested with a taste. Sell their bodies, if they had to, I don’t know how far it went. I was only focused on making sure I got my fix.

“I used to overdose, I never knew how to limit myself. Especially when Dean was focused on other girls, the younger ones I’d brought in, or when he…when he would hit me. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I’d just snort or shoot up, whatever, until I couldn’t feel anything anymore. That’s when he’d take me to his ripperdoc friend.” V had to take several seconds to build the strength to say his name. “Ichabod Adebayo.”

The silence following his name was explosive. V had to push through before she couldn’t speak anymore.

“One time, Dean took me to Ichabod because I OD’d after he beat me so bad he crushed my voice box. And when I woke up I had this,” she paused, leaning her head back to run her fingers over the gray cyberware lines across her throat.

“Another time after I OD’d, Dean took me to Ichabod again, and…when I woke up…he had sterilized me. I had told Dean tons of times before that that I never wanted kids. Didn’t think I’d be a good parent. But…I never thought he would agree to something like that.” It was the first time she’d ever said it out loud. The first time she’d heard the words coming from her own mouth, in her own voice. She faltered. Collapsing forward, V’s head came to rest on River’s chest, her hands covering her face as much as possible.

His arms were around her immediately, his eye burning and his throat impossibly narrow. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know if he should say anything at all. His brain was frying out, processing everything she’d just said, thinking about Randy, thinking about the daydreams he’d once had of a family portrait with her in it.

“That night,” V said, sniffing heavily to clear the tears and snot from her face, slowly pulling back from River’s chest to look at him again, “that night I killed Dean. Waited til he was asleep and then used his own pistol and shot him through a pillow. I called my Aldecaldo friends and they got me out of the city that night. Brought me back to NC, to a ripper they knew. I had an infection, felt like I was on fire. He treated it, saved my life, and got me clean. 

“I’ve been in debt to him ever since. He says otherwise. But I started merc work to make money so I could pay him back, pay them all back, him and the Aldecaldos, for everything they did for me. My ripper introduced me to this real chico duro, Jackie Welles.”

A teary smile broke out across V’s face thinking about him. She sniffed again, thinking about how much further she had to go before she was done getting this weight off her chest. She couldn’t stop now, it would be an insult to Jackie’s memory.

“I had known Jackie when we were kids, but we grew apart. He joined the Valentinos, and I was trying to keep away from gangs, little good that did me. Anyway, Jackie took me in when I came back to NC. I moved into his mama’s house, his old room. He showed me around the merc world, landed us this huge gig. We were gonna be Night City legends, he always used to say.

“The gig was at Konpeki plaza. Klepping from Yorinobu fucking Arasaka, of all people, except Saburo showed up and got himself patricided. Everything went wrong and we had to get outta there fast. Jackie didn’t…Jackie didn’t make it,” she choked, pushing through the pain once again. Just a little bit farther, she told herself, “he didn’t make it and I had to store the fucking thing. It was an engram, the Relic it’s called. Slotted it in my neural port without a second thought.

“Turns out that was a huge mistake. Saburo’s death was pinned on us and the fixer for the job, Dexter DeShawn, put a bullet in my head. Dumped me in a landfill north of the city.” 

River didn’t speak but he could feel the tears running from his one organic eye, staining his face and dropping from his jaw. V waited until he gave the slightest nod to know he was ready for her to continue.

“And then…then the Relic. The engram. It booted up, restarted my brain, my heart, everything. Brought me back. Back from the dead. With Johnny fucking Silverhand in my head.” V stopped, feeling like surely River was about to throw her out. This all sounded completely ridiculous. Either he thought she was a liar or thought she was insane, but no way did he buy any of this bullshit.

But, when she looked at him, his eyes were totally focused on her. He didn’t frown, or yell, or push her off his lap or throw things. He just waited. Listening. Ready. Totally open. Just a little bit more, she told herself.

“The Relic was an engram of Johnny Silverhand’s consciousness, taken by Arasaka back in the day. Because it was in my neural port when I died, it thinks I am a virus, that my neural network needs to be erased. So, it’s doing that. Erasing me, bit at a time. Eventually, Johnny’s consciousness will be all that’s left. He’ll inherit my body, and I’ll be gone.”

V sat in silence, perched on River’s lap and feeling like she had finally lost her mind. There was no way back from this. No way back to La Tigresa who flirts with the cute cop in their fun cat-and-mouse game. This would be her last job. Save River’s nephew. Then at least she knew she would have done one worthwhile thing with her time before Johnny took over. Somewhere deep in the bowels of her mind, Johnny was furious, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Now, I know that all of that sounds totally crazy. And I’m so sorry to dump it all on you now, when you’re already going through so much, but I just wanted you to know that I’m going to do everything I can to bring Randy home, and then I’ll leave you alone. I won’t bother you with my bullshit, I promise. I just want to do one good thing. Something to help counteract all the bad. Just once. And then I’ll go.”

V’s voice was barely there, rasping, both too-wet and too-dry. Sharp in her mouth like a chipped tooth. Wiping her face on the long sleeves of the flannel, she went to move from River’s lap. 

His hands had other ideas, however, and they only encouraged her closer. The hand on her back came up to her neck’s nape, gently stroking. The hand on her knees hooked them and pulled them up to his hip, bringing her as near as was physically possible. His face was overflowing with sorrow, but his mouth was set with certainty. When he spoke his voice was grave and gravelled.

“V,” he began, moving the hand from her knees to her face, guiding her to look right at his face, right into his eyes, black and brown and each filled with mismatched light and darkness, “I’m always afraid that I’ve gone too far with you, made myself too obvious, given myself away. But, clearly, I haven’t. So please, let me just cut to the chase: I don’t want you to leave. Ever. I want you to be with me, all the time. Every day. Please, please, promise me you won’t leave after we bring Randy home. Please?”

“You don’t mean that,” she mumbled, heart seizing and racing in a tortuous asynchrony.

“I do. And I meant what I said at the Soul Cellar. I’m gonna help you find a cure for this, V. I’ll do whatever it takes. Just please don’t leave. Don’t give up.” He ran his hand through her hair, dirty as it was, coming to rest at her jaw, tilting her chin the tiniest amount until they were eye-to-eye again. “For me, V. Please?”

“I don’t understand why you want to help me,” V sniffled, “didn’t you hear me? I’m a killer. I have a terrorist’s psyche in my brain, sharin’ headspace. And before that I was a worthless addict, bringing in girls with messages just like the ones Harris sent to Randy. I’m just like him-”

“You are nothing like Harris.” River’s voice left no room for argument. “I don’t know how else to tell you how I feel, V. So let me show you.” He pulled her face to his, kissing her with a firm insistence that deflated her. V’s hands settled around his neck, holding him close, anchoring herself in the feeling of the shorn hairs on the back of his head and the metal chain at the base of his neck.

River’s tongue pushed into her mouth slowly, easing her into it. Her lips were rougher than they’d been at the Soul Cellar, most likely from whatever the hell she’d been up to since then. But she’d tell him about it, in time. He’d make sure there was time. He wanted to know everything about her, everything there was to know.

One of River’s hands returned to V’s legs, sliding from the knee up to her thigh, squeezing the thick muscle and slipping his hand under the lower hem of her flannel. His flannel, his brain reminded him, sending him into something like a frenzy. V whimpered and it was like his mind went into overdrive. 

He pulled back to shuffle her around until she was straddling him, bringing his hands once more to the bend of her knees and finishing with one firm tug until she was as far onto him as the chair would allow. It groaned and creaked under him but River couldn’t hear it, only aware of the blood rushing in his ears and V’s broken little noises of overwhelmed surprise.

“River,” she started, leaning into him, caressing his face and going to kiss the edge of his mouth. He turned his head to catch her lips in full, one hand holding her close by the back while the other relished in the bare skin of her exposed thighs.

“Baby,” he replied, not interested in whatever she was about to say to try and convince him his life was about anything other than her, “please. Please let me show you how I feel about you.”

She was putty in his arms, pliant and pathetic. But safe. Comforted. Content. The same mantra that always seemed to come around in his presence was still reverberating in her ribcage. You belong here. 

The flannel had ridden up significantly since he’d pulled her on top of him, and V was faintly aware that her ass was probably most of the way out. She wriggled a little higher on his lap, hoping the shirt could drop down farther, and felt him, hard and aching through his pants, right along her core.

“River,” she sighed, pressing herself down against that hardness and feeling something like static fizzing through her bloodstream. He moaned, a rumbling sound from within his chest that set her on fire inside. His hands slid under the flannel, gripping her hips and driving her into him again.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned. He could feel the lace trim of whatever panties she was wearing. His mind was falling apart. Distantly, he registered some kind of banging sound, but he spared it no conscious thought.

“River?” His brain logged back on at the sound of Joss’ voice coming through the front door of the trailer. V shot backwards off his lap like she’d been electrocuted, throwing herself under the duvet on Randy’s bed so she looked covered and respectable. 

River stood up too, hauling his coat off the back of the desk chair and pulling it over as much of his crotch as he could. He was back in the chair again just in time for Joss to make it to the door of the bedroom, a thick blanket bundled in her arms.

“You forgot this quilt,” she started, seemingly oblivious of what had just been transpiring, “I know it gets cold in here since the generator’s been acting up, just thought V might need this tonight.”

“Thank you,” V said, clearing her throat and reaching out for the blanket, “I really appreciate it.”

“Yeah, well, I really appreciate you comin’ here to help find Randy. How’s it going? You find anything?”

“Some promising leads, we sent some evidence to one of River’s NCPD lab contacts, she’s gonna get back to us ASAP.” V tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and River felt his mouth drying out. His hand twitched against his leg, half remembering the feeling of that lace trim, half wishing it could be him reaching out to touch her hair again. Joss’ snarky laugh brought him properly back into the room.

“Tell me it’s not Dr Yawen Packard?” She turned to face him, arms crossed and hip cocked to the side and looking every bit like the cooler older sister she’d always been.

“The same,” River replied, realizing only when he spoke how husky his voice had become. Joss started to look at him with an expression that made him anxious, like she could read his mind and saw everything that had just happened between him and V, but thankfully V spoke up and got her attention.

“That’s his ex, right?” V asked, half a smile on her face. Joss scoffed.

“Yeah, real piece of work. She hated me,” she said scornfully.

“She didn’t hate you,” River interjected, “she could just tell that you hated her.”

“Whatever it was, it was mutual,” Joss replied with another little laugh.

“Well, she might be able to get us a half-way decent lead to finding Randy,” River responded. One half-conversation with his sister and he was suddenly feeling the exhaustion that had been pursuing him for days now. Weeks, even. It’s not like he was sleeping soundly before Randy went missing.

“Well then all will be forgiven.” Joss’ tone turned solemn, looking around her oldest son’s room and clearly feeling a lot. “I’m gonna go to bed, but you can wake me if you need anything or if you have any updates.”

“Sure, thanks,” River said, standing up to usher Joss out of the trailer, “goodnight, Joss.”

“Goodnight.” They got to the main door of the trailer before Joss turned to him, speaking in a hushed tone. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this, River.”

“Hm?” His eyebrows raised, already feeling guilty and caught.

“Whatever it is that’s going on between you two, you’ve gotta tell me everything-”

“There’s nothing to tell, Joss,” River said with quiet urgency, half shoving her out of the trailer, “Goodnight.” He pushed the trailer door shut on her disappointed-looking sisterly face and waited until he heard the metal creaking of the steps to Randy’s trailer so he could be sure she’d left.

He rubbed his face for a moment, trying to clear his head, before he walked back to the bedroom. His heart seized at the sight of V, curled up in a ball on the bed, ensconced in the duvet and the blanket with her eyes closed. She looked beautiful, even in her exhaustion. The way her eyelashes rested on her cheek made him itch to touch her face.

“V,” he said softly as he came to a stop beside the foot of the bed, smiling at her tired eyes when she looked at him, “I’m sorry. About all of that. I know now probably isn’t the best time, just got carried away I guess.”

“That’s okay,” she replied, “I…I liked it.”

“Me too,” River grinned, giddiness coursing through him at the memory of her solid weight in his lap. He tongued the inside of his cheek, trying to calm down before he tried it on with her again when they were both so tired. “We should get some rest, though. No idea how long Yawen will take but we should try to sleep as much as we can.”

He turned to leave but was stopped at the sound of her voice.

“River?” He faced her again, dropping to one knee beside the head of the bed and holding the hand she had partially outstretched to him. “Will you stay here? Please?”

“You want me to sleep in here?” he asked, squeezing her hand. He was already visualizing slipping under the duvet beside her, having to hold her against him all night to fit on the single bed.

“I’ll sleep better if I know you’re here.” She took a few quiet breaths, looking between their connected hands and River’s face before she continued. “You make me feel safe.”

God, he wanted to kiss her all over again. He stopped himself, remembering how sleep-deprived she clearly was, and reached out to stroke a hand across the side of her face and into her hair.

“Of course I’ll stay. I’ll sit right here and watch over you, and I promise you if anything happens, I’ll keep you safe, sound good?” he asked, smiling and pulling the desk chair over to sit at the foot of the bed.

“Sounds perfect,” V replied with her eyes closed, already slipping into sleep. River kicked off his boots and brought his feet up to rest on the end of the bed. He leaned back in the chair, resting his hands on his chest, and took in the sight before him. V, looking comfortable and relaxed, her feet almost touching his where they were crossed.

He closed his eyes and let himself drift off to the image of her, back on his lap, whimpering in his ear. Anything to avoid thinking about anything else that had happened that night.

Yawen’s message came in just after 3am. The ping woke River with a start and he shot upright in the desk chair, pulling out his agent to review what she’d sent. Three raw braindances, no further message. Wow, she really must have been done with him. Didn’t matter, not right now.

“V,” he said, leaning forward to gently shove her shoulder, “V, honey, you gotta wake up.”

“Huh?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes as she slowly sat up in the bed. He retrieved her BD wreath from her jacket pocket in the bathroom and came back, pushing it into her hands and transferring the files to her.

“These came through from Yawen, can you edit them?” He sat back in the desk chair, pulling it over to sit directly in front of where she perched on the edge of the bed. Her bare legs were out, golden brown and beautiful even with prominent yellowed bruising around one knee.

“Sure, lemme take a look.” Her voice had become all business in the single minute that she’d been awake; River couldn’t help but be impressed. No wonder the Peralezes hired her, she looked focused and determined. 

“Can you connect to Randy’s laptop? I wanna be able to see what you’re seeing, might see more with two sets of eyes.” He brought the laptop over to the bed to open it up beside V. She connected to it and put the BD wreath in place, firing up the first file and streaming to the laptop screen.

“Alright, detective,” V said with a crack of her blackened knuckles, “let’s see what we can find.”

The first braindance was a trip. Some snapshot of Anthony Harris’ life as a child, getting torn into by a teacher at school. He’d been injecting hormones into the class pet, trying to make it feel better, supposedly.

River tried to keep a balance between looking at the screen and keeping an eye on V’s face. He knew enough about braindances to know that she was currently feeling some of the same things Harris had been feeling when the BD was recorded. With everything she’d told him last night, he felt shitty for making her do this right now.

Still, she soldiered on to the end of the BD, gasping when suddenly a masked cow appeared in the school hallway. River recognized the mask, something they used to use at the farm he grew up on. Whenever a cow got sick, they used the masks to give them medicine directly and also prevent spread to the rest of the herd.

“It’s alright, V,” he said, reaching for her hand and holding it on her knee, “I’m here.”

“Thank you,” she whispered, jumping straight into the next BD. Maybe she just wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible. Either way, there was nothing significant in that first BD that could lead them to Randy; it was a relief to move on.

Harris was still a child in the next video, but it looked like he was on the family farm instead of at school. Definitely another memory. V raised one hand to cover her mouth and nose as she looked around at the cows in the barn.

“It smells awful,” she offered, voice shaky, “like disease and shit.”

“I’m still here, V.” It was all he could think to say to her, knowing he’d never understand how she was feeling right now. She squeezed his hand and continued through the BD. Harris’ dad was yelling at him for not loading the medicinal drip for one of the cows. 

River saw the dad’s hand raising and before he could prepare for it the slap came down hard. V gasped and recoiled, holding his hand higher up her leg after the initial jump.

“It’s okay, V, it’s okay,” he said in a tone he hoped was soothing, speaking a little louder to ensure she heard him over the sound of the braindance. He rubbed his fingers over her knuckles in an effort to further ground her. She continued the braindance but River noticed the tears trickling down her face under the BD wreath.

Made him feel like fucking shit. Why was he making her do all this when she could die tomorrow?

“V,” he started, tugging her hand a little to get her attention, “you don’t have to do this. Come on, we can figure something else out.”

“No,” she replied, suddenly stern, “Randy is out there right now, you know you would do this if you could. Let me do this for you.”

“V-”

“River. If you meant anything you said last night, you’ll let me do this for you.” Well what the fuck else could he say to that? He went quiet, still holding her hand so she knew he was supporting her as best she could. The braindance ended with a young Harris looking at a TV screen in the back of the barn, playing that same fucking cartoon they’d found on Randy’s laptop.

“Just one more, V, you’re nearly done.” River could feel his guts churning as V nodded and sniffed her tears up as best she could. The last BD started and it was clearly the same barn, only completely fucked up. Harris was an adult, the cartoon was still playing, and he started walking from the back room through to the main area with the cattle stalls.

“This feels recent,” V supplied, absently wiping her face, “I can feel it in him, it’s like a memory.”

River looked at the laptop monitor and felt his stomach drop through the floor. Boys, all around Randy’s age, one in every livestock stall. The barn was dark, only the nutritional machines providing any light. Blood splatters streaked the ground.

The place looked like a fucking morgue. Each boy was laid out on a table and hooked up to the machines. They wore the same masks as the sickly cows, connected to the medicinal pumps. Harris walked down the central walkway between the pens and River noticed a boy crawling towards the barn door.

The boy wasn’t Randy, but he easily could have been. Looked like his legs couldn’t move, dragging along behind him as he pulled himself forward on his elbows as fast as he could. Harris didn’t hurry, simply strolled over towards the boy, almost chuckling to himself.

“River,” V whimpered. His heart broke at the sound of her distress, torn between his worry for her right now and his horror for what any of this could mean for Randy. He squeezed her hand as hard as he could, placing his other hand on her bare knee, anything to connect with her as much as possible. 

Harris got to the barn door, looking out onto Night City from somewhere in the Badlands and V’s jaw dropped.

“River, I’ve been here.”

“What? What do you mean?”

“I’ve been here, I’ve seen this barn, I know where this is.” Her voice sounded cold and distant; River tried to push his worry about what this process was doing to her to the back of his mind, at least for now. There was no time, not when they were this close.

“Could you direct me there from here?” he asked, already standing from the chair.

“Yeah,” V replied, pulling her BD wreath off and standing shakily from the bed. River helped steady her, taking a moment to assess her. He held her face in his hands, brushing her hair back, and took in the fear in those feline eyes.

“It’s all gonna be okay.” He couldn’t tell if he was talking more to her or himself. V’s hands were on his wrists and he could feel his own adrenaline building to the point of pain in his chest. Before he could think, he leaned in and kissed her, hard. Of course she knew where they needed to go, perfect being that she was. He pulled back to take a breath. “I knew I could count on you, V. You’re amazing.”

“Come on,” she said, pulling back in a hurry to grab her pants from the bathroom, “we gotta get going.”

“I’ll start the car,” he replied, already speeding towards the trailer’s front door. His heart was pounding. Randy wasn’t in that last BD, but River was certain he’d be at the farm. Hooked up to one of those fucking machines. 

Throwing open Mack’s driver’s side door, River felt a renewed sense of purpose. With V at his side, there was nothing he couldn’t do. He was going to find Randy. He was going to bring him home safe. And then he was going to do whatever it took to save V’s life and fill it with anything she wanted.

In the bathroom, V took one last look in the mirror. She’d deal with the overwhelming guilt later. The fact that she’d been at that fucking farm less than 24 hours ago. If she’d been less in her own way, she could have saved Randy already. Fuck, no time to deal with that now. She threw her jacket on over the borrowed flannel and ran out the door. Please, Randy, please be okay.

Chapter Text

A cacophony of flies. The smell of death and damp. And the boys. 

Edgewood Farm lived up to expectations. Anthony Harris was sicker in the head than they’d feared. Thankfully, though, his hidden web link wasn’t easy to find; there were only four boys on tables like lab rats when V and River arrived at the farm. Two of them were already dead.

But not Randy. V thanked Santa Maria when they pulled the medical mask off his face and the kid coughed up half his stomach contents on the table.

“Hey hey hey, easy,” she said, leaning down to cradle his face gently in her shaking hands, “you’re alright, Randy. It’s gonna be okay.”

She looked up to River, who was busy collapsing with relief against the metal bars of the cattle pen. He nodded as the breath rushed out of him; they’d done it. V turned back to Randy, pressing the cool of her fingers to his forehead. He had a fever, probably an infection too. His eyes were clouded, but she saw the fear in them.

“You did great, Randy. You led us right to you, you’re gonna be okay, alright?” He was still breathing erratically but he nodded. She stayed with him while River helped the other surviving boy; she couldn’t bear to look at another face she could have saved sooner.

River checked in on her again after Trauma Team had Randy in the medivac. At first he was afraid she’d left - or been detained by one of the two dozen cops swarming the farm - but he found her in the cramped farmhouse beside the barn. 

She stood in front of a desk, holding some vials and scanning them with her optics. He noticed the computer screen behind her was smashed in, looked like her blackened fingers were scratched up too. She looked smaller than he’d ever seen her before, hunched over and curled in on herself, drowned in his old flannel and her oversized jacket.

“V,” he said softly as he approached, putting a hand on her shoulder in something resembling an effort to comfort them both, “what you got there?”

“Samples,” she replied, pocketing them in case any nosy cops decided to check out the farmhouse, “the drugs Harris used on the boys are almost the same as the ones we picked up in that Maelstrom hideout. You remember those Maelstrom were trying to replicate something for that Claw, Haru? I think this might be it.”

She didn’t tell River that she’d hacked the PC and found Harris’ comms. Seen the messages between him and Big Pete. Anthony Harris was Tony, weirdo Tony with his boys on the fucking farm. If she’d worked harder, maybe she could have found Randy way back then.

‘You didn’t know the kid even existed, V,’ Johnny’s voice tried to reason, ‘might not have even been missing then.’

He was right, but still. It didn’t sit well with her. It made her think of Misty. She checked her phone, still no response from her. V would have to investigate that. She couldn’t let it become another Edgewood Farm. She wouldn’t.

“You gonna give those to Regina Jones?” River asked, the hand on her shoulder hesitantly finding her hand and offering what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze.

“Yeah,” V nodded, “I need to get to the bottom of this whole thing. Get this shit out of NC for good, figure out what the hell’s going on with Misty.”

“Look, about that, I know we haven’t really talked about it properly, but I have some intel about this whole thing that I need you to know. It’s not safe for you, V. The guys behind this, they’re onto you.” 

“What do you know?” It was instinctive the way that V’s blood ran cold and her heart started palpitating at the idea of River somehow learning something else awful about her, even after everything he’d said last night.

“Not much, but I managed to listen in on a meeting of theirs. The Claw, Haru, was there. So was fucking Phelps, the cop that arrested you. He talked about you at the meeting, seemed like the guys behind this knew you.”

“You see these guys at the meeting?” V asked, her mind reeling with questions and fears.

“I did,” he replied, nodding dutifully and looking every bit the good-guy badge, “one was stocky. Hairy guy called Gaur, seemed like he was in charge. Then a taller black guy with five cyber eyes, two gray and three red in a triangle formation on his forehead. Name was Bod.”

“Fuck,” V sighed shakily, sagging backwards against the desk and placing a flat palm in the middle of her chest. River stepped closer, still holding her other hand, and spoke with his lips almost against her forehead.

“I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, V, it’s just that everything started with Randy so fast and I knew I needed your help to save him. Couldn’t stand the idea of losing any time. If we’d gotten here any later-”

“It’s okay, River,” V interrupted, reaching up to stroke the stubble on his jaw, “I get it. I’m glad I could help you with this. Glad Randy’s okay. It’s just that you’re right.”

“I’m right?”

“Those guys do know me,” V nodded, pulling away from River, suddenly stifled, “Gaur was the owner of the club that Dean took me to in Atlanta. And ‘Bod’? That’s Ichabod Adebayo.”

“The ripper who-” River couldn’t bring himself to say it.

“Yeah,” V answered anyway, head spinning, “so they’re in Night City. And they know I’m here too. Shit, Misty. I gotta go to her, River, I gotta make sure she’s okay.”

“I’ll go with you,” River supplied with no hesitation. His chest was already filling out with a special type of rage he’d never felt before. The shit these scumbags had done, the shit they’d done to her. It would feel like gleeful righteousness to empty every last round he had into them both. Haru and Phelps too, for even associating with them.

Before V could say anything, one of the Trauma Team was pushing into the farmhouse. The figure, bedecked in the standard too-white hazmat suit, turned to address River.

“The patient is asking for you, detective. We need to leave now - are you coming?”

River looked at V with such clear conflict warring on his face and V wanted nothing more than to kiss him and tell him everything would be okay. “Go,” she said instead, nodding with certainty, “Randy needs you, River. You know Joss would never forgive you if you let him go to the hospital by himself.”

“You’re right.” River turned to nod at the Trauma Team agent, gesturing that he’d follow behind. Once they were alone again, he pulled V into a quick hug, holding her tight against himself. “Thank you, V, for everything. Promise me you won’t do anything before I can help you?”

“I’ll keep in touch, and you update me about Randy. Let me know if I can do anything else for him, okay?” V held his face again, daring a short peck on his cheek. River smiled the same sad smile she’d seen on him since she joined up with him the previous day.

“Like there’s anything more you could do. You’ve already done everything, V.” He half-turned to leave, before pulling her back for another small kiss, this time on the lips. “Do me one small favor though?”

“Of course, what is it?” V asked, practically starry eyed. River reached for the collar of the flannel shirt that poked out from her jacket and gave it a playful tug.

“Keep this? I like how it looks on you more than I ever liked it on me.” They exchanged more genuine smiles and then River was walking away. V heard the medivacs lifting off and headed for the door of the farmhouse.

She would call a Delamain and take it straight to Misty’s shop. Maybe Vik knew where she was, maybe she’d told him something about the club. After that, she’d head to the club itself. If Misty was there, V would find her and bring her home safe. And if she came across Haru, Phelps, Gaur, or Ichabod fucking Adebayo, then they’d better pray to Santa Maria for some kind of mercy, because they weren’t gonna get it from her.

V pushed the farmhouse door open, squinted at the blazing desert light of the early morning, and promptly blacked out.

The first four or five hours after they arrived at the hospital were the longest of River’s life. Randy’s condition was critical, hooked up to IVs and monitors, his eyes closed and his brows sweating. The doctors rushed in and out of his room like a steady stream, taking blood or injecting something else to fight the infection and bring his temperature down.

Joss arrived about an hour after they got there, eyes bleary and hair messily thrown up.

“River?” she called out as she entered the ward. He left Randy’s bedside and stood in the doorway to flag her down. “How is he? Is he okay? Oh my god, River, is he okay?”

“Seems like he might be, we don’t know yet.” He ushered her to the chair he had been using and stood over her with a hand on her shoulder. “He’s got an infection but they’re doing everything they can to stabilize him. Hopefully he’ll wake up soon.”

“God, Randy, what did you do?” Joss sighed, reaching up to wipe a maternal hand across her son’s forehead. River watched her watching Randy. Her hand was shaking as she stroked his cheek and the peach fuzz on his chin. He looked so fragile under her touch.

“He did good, Joss,” River said, pulling up another chair to sit beside her, taking her free hand and squeezing until she turned to face him, “he was just scared, lost, just like we were around that age. He led us right to him, though. He did good.”

Joss nodded, taking it in. He knew she needed to hear it. That Randy was still good, even after whatever the fuck he’d been through. River only hoped the poor kid would be able to tell them exactly what happened, using his own words and his own voice and his own mind. That he’d come out of this.

The brother and sister duo sat in silence for several minutes, watching as Randy breathed steadily in and out. Joss flinched every time his fingers twitched, and River’s throat tightened with every eyelid flicker. Eventually, Joss broke the monotonous beeping of the heart monitor.

“Where’s V?”

“Hmm?” River replied, finally letting himself think about her for the first time since leaving her that morning.

“You said Randy led ‘us’ right to him, was she there?”

“Yeah, she was, to be honest she did all the hard work. Found the evidence, found the farm, comforted him while we waited for the cavalry. She did it all.” The admiration in his voice was obvious, and Joss’ face morphed into something distantly related to the smile of a pleased big sister.

“She seems pretty special. Where is she now? Sounds like I owe her a huge thank you at the very least.”

“Her friend is in trouble, missing too. She’s getting intel together so we can go find her together.” River took a moment to check his phone to see if there’d been any progress on that front, but nothing had come through.

“Typical of this fucking city,” Joss scoffed, “the best people deal with the worst shit.” Joss freed her hand from River’s to wrap it around his arm, leaning her head on his shoulder and releasing a sigh she’d clearly been holding in since the last time she’d seen Randy.

River rested his head against the top of his big sister’s. The smell of her hair was nostalgic and comforting, and the way she protectively held his arm made him feel more secure than he’d felt in a long time. This was what he’d missed since things went south between them. The simple comfort of knowing she was looking out for him, even now, after everything.

“River,” she announced from beneath his head, “you help find V’s friend, make sure she’s safe. And then you bring that girl back to Red Peaks for a proper thank you, got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” River replied, smiling.

“And do yourself a favor and ask her out if you haven’t already. It’s embarrassing.” They both laughed, leaning on each other a little heavily as they did. River thought about telling her a little more about things between him and V, but decided for now it would be best to just be here for her.

The sun was setting when Randy’s eyes finally opened. He slowly reached up to try and pull off his oxygen mask, his arm slow and uncoordinated. Joss jolted upright, waking River from an extremely uncomfortable nap, and reached forward to help her son.

“It’s okay, Randy, I got it, I got it, baby,” she cooed, slowly unhooking the elastics from around his ears and pulling the mask down from his face. Slowly, Randy’s eyes were finally able to focus in on his mother. After that the tears were more or less immediate. 

“I’m sorry, mom, I’m so sorry,” he cried, his weak voice cracking. His body looked weak as a baby bird, shoulders jolting with sobs. Joss was on her feet with her arms around him in a second, cradling the back of his head like he was a newborn.

“It’s okay, Randy. Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart, you’re okay. You’re okay.” Her voice was wavering and River didn’t need to see to know she was crying too. Randy looked to him over Joss’ shoulder, summoning him with one hand, and soon River’s arms were around them both.

It wasn’t until he felt one of Randy’s hands on his face, wiping his cheek, that he realized he was crying too. 

River had no idea how long they stayed like that.

Eventually, doctors and nurses came back in and checked Randy’s vitals, took yet more blood, confirmed with relief that his infection was subsiding. They were pumping him with the good painkillers, and Randy was laughing and smiling soon after.

“Uncle River,” he started, chuckling to himself already, “Uncle River.”

“What is it, kid?” River replied from his chair to Randy’s side. Joss was sitting on the other side of the bed, texting the babysitter to update the twins on their brother’s condition.

“Who was that? Back there, I remember a girl with you.”

“That was V. She’s a merc, she helped me find you.”

“I wanna thank her.” River’s heart warmed at Randy being so mature and thinking of someone else at a time like this. He was certain there was a long and shitty road ahead of his nephew, but this moment gave him hope that there might be a brighter future waiting for him. “I wanna ask her out.”

“What?” River heard his own voice harden and had to check himself when Joss scoffed a laugh from the other side of Randy’s hospital bed. He told his eyebrows to unfurrow and reminded himself that the kid was flying high.

“I wanna ask her out,” Randy repeated, goofy smile intact, “she was hot…pretty mouth…nice hair…big ti-”

“Okay, Mr Morphine,” Joss interrupted, patting Randy’s arm to get his attention, “let’s stop now before we embarrass ourselves, shall we?”

“Huh?” Randy’s mind had apparently not caught up enough to understand such complex ideas.

“Do you want some food?” Joss redirected, standing up and nodding as if to lead Randy to agreeing with her, “We’ll get you some food, okay bud? Be right back.” Joss patted River’s shoulder on her way out and he followed her into the hallway. It was quieter now that Randy was awake and stable, and River felt like he could breathe a little easier.

“Wow,” she laughed, shaking her head, “looks like you got some competition.”

“Apparently. Didn’t even realize he was conscious enough to know anyone was there, let alone wanting to ask her out.” 

“Little brat,” Joss scoffed, leading them towards a vending machine and scanning the snacks on offer. River stood back, watching his sister, his mind racing through everything his life had become in the last few months. “You’re gonna have to keep an eye on him when V’s around, make sure he doesn’t encroach on your turf,” she said, laughing to herself.

“He’s a minor,” River replied sternly, still struggling to find the humor in his teenage nephew ogling V.

“Well,” Joss started, making a face River knew he shouldn’t like, “it’s not like she’s…your age.”

“Okay, so she’s a little younger, but she’s a hell of a lot older than Randy.”

“How old is she?”

“Almost thirty, okay? A full decade older than him.”

“A full decade younger than you,” Joss smirked, turning to him more earnestly, “River?”

“Hm?” Joss must have noticed his turmoil, hand on his arm and playing the mother hen. 

“I’m messing with you, okay? Randy’s alive. You and V did that. Mrs Park said she’d take the twins for a couple of days so I can stay here. What are you still doing here?”

“What do you mean?” He couldn’t decide if he should be glad to see his efforts acknowledged or pissed off at being dismissed so flippantly.

“I mean, you’ve done enough. Randy’s gonna be okay, I’m gonna be okay. V needs your help now. It’s clear she means a lot to you, and you fucking owe her.”

“Well, she hasn’t sent any updates yet,” River practically stuttered, ignoring the clenching of his stomach, “I don’t even know if she’s ready.”

“Ready?” Joss raised an eyebrow in that way that River was all too used to by now, that did you really just say that, little brother? way that made him feel like a loser. “Who cares if she’s ready? You care about her, right?”

“Of course I do, but-”

“No, I mean seriously. You really care about her, do you not?” She folded her arms and cocked one hip to the side, managing to look down her nose at River despite being half a foot shorter.

“Well, yeah, I do.”

“So get the hell out of here and go help her - I don’t care if she’s ready or not - before I give Randy her number and let him ask her out.” Joss smirked to herself, turning away from her brother and choosing a bag of chips from the vending machine. 

River stood for a moment, nervous, shocked, exhausted? He had no idea. Joss gave him one last sisterly pat and headed back to Randy’s room, calling one last, “get out of here,” over her shoulder.

She was right. What did it matter if V hadn’t sent a message yet? Surely they’d gotten past the point now of needing to wait to hear from her? Even if she didn’t have the intel yet, the least he could do was help her out any way he could. 

Thankfully, one of the cops at the farm agreed to bring Mack to the hospital, so he didn’t have to haul himself back out into the Badlands for it. He’d start at her place. 

No, he’d start by picking up some takeout. That grilled cheese from the night before might have been the last time she ate.

He’d bring her food, he’d help her find Misty. He’d tell her how much she meant to him. He’d help her get rid of these Atlanta assholes. He’d put Phelps in the ground himself. He’d get Johnny Silverhand’s ghost out of her head without killing her. Fuck. The more he thought about it the heavier it all became. How the fuck was he supposed to do all that?

Just start with the food, he told himself. Pulling out of the hospital parking lot, he repeated it like a grounding mantra. He’d bring her food. He’d bring her food. He’d bring her food.

V’s throat felt like sandpaper. She swallowed, slowly crawling to consciousness in her bed in Megabuilding H10. Her hair was clean and fresh-smelling, and she was wearing nothing but River’s old flannel. She sat up and saw she’d used Fornido as a pillow. The plushie’s pink fur was streaked with what could only be drool.

“What the fuck?” she mused aloud, her voice groaning into existence. “Johnny?”

The man in question flickered into existence on the edge of the couch, leaning forward on his elbows and holding his hands out like empty offerings.

‘Don’t get mad at me,’ he started, ‘if you didn’t rest - and do it fucking soon - you were gonna get another Relic malfunction, probably worse than the last one.’

“You brought me home? Showered me? Washed my hair?” V stopped herself just short of ‘put me in River’s flannel to sleep?’ for the sake of offering some semblance of an olive branch to the engram. Johnny nodded quietly.

‘I also sent your fucking drug samples to Regina Jones so you wouldn’t have to worry about having them in here, you’re welcome! Look, that farm was somethin’ else. Never seen something so fucked up, V. You needed to reset. I mean, look how easy it was for me to take over!’

“When I left the farmhouse-”

‘Yes, I took over the second you were out that door, and I did it because I knew you were not gonna wait for the badge’s help. You were going straight to the doc to ask about the witch and you know you were.’ He pointed a silver finger at her like a strict teacher.

“Oh my god, Misty. What time is it? How long have I been out?” V asked, scrambling from the bed and stumbling over to the gutted innards of her closet, picking up dress after dress until she found something useful.

‘Not long enough. Only a few hours, just to tide you over. You should really get more rest, but I know you won’t,’ Johnny said with a sigh, turning in his seat to watch her peel the flannel off and throw it back to the bed.

“Of course I won’t, Johnny,” V huffed, pulling on a tight, black slip of a dress, grateful for something that would cover her from neck to knee - she still felt supremely battered from the last few days. 

She found her phone, abandoned in her jacket pocket on the floor, and saw no messages from Misty still. She’d go to Vik’s first. Maybe he knew something she didn’t. Misty’s family was in town, her phone died, she was on some mysterious vacation. Something.

“Can’t believe you just took over like that,” V scolded as she flicked her hair around in search of some club-appropriate heels.

‘I can’t believe it was that easy, V! Can’t you see that we’re running out of time?’ Johnny appeared in front of her, pointing to a matching pair half-hidden under a different outfit. V bent to grab them and pulled them on, hopping on one foot with the effort while she huffed at her parasite.

“Of course I can see that, Johnny! Of course I know we’re running out of time. I feel myself fading more and more every fucking day - of course I know it’s almost over.” V stopped when tears choked up into her throat, the constriction like glass on her windpipe. “That doesn’t mean I can just give up on my best friend.”

‘I know,’ Johnny sighed, resigned. V rushed through putting on her most basic makeup - she still had to blend in at Akuma - and headed over to Vik’s place as fast as she could.

She found Viktor Vektor standing in the middle of his clinic, adjusting the collar of a suit jacket more formal than anything she’d ever seen him wear before.

“Vikky?” she asked incredulously, concentration temporarily thrown at the sight of the ripper dressed to the nines.

“V? You okay, kid? How’s that arm repair treating you?” He acted like it was normal to be so dressed up but the way he kept fiddling with his cufflinks betrayed his nerves. 

“Fine, what’s going on with you? Going somewhere?”

“Uh, yeah, just a…thing.”

“You got a hot date or something, Vikky?” V said teasingly, though the ripper’s grimace was all too revealing. “Oh my god, you do! You’re dating? Who are you dating? Oh my god. Who?”

“Nuh-uh, that’s none of your business, I’m not telling you a thing. What are you doing here, anyway? Shop’s closed.” Vik was already walking over to her, making as if to usher her back up the steps to street level. V propped a hand on his arm and tightened her grip, hoping to get him in a serious mood.

“I’m looking for Misty, have you heard from her lately?”

“Misty? Sure, she sent me a message yesterday, said she’s under the weather, some kinda viral infection. I told her rest and fluids, she’ll be herself again in no time,” Vik shrugged. V’s gut didn’t like it. She still had no reply from the message she sent before she met back up with River. Why would Misty message him and not her?

“Can I see your messages?” she asked, getting into the ripper’s space only for him to gently push her away.

“What? No. Why?” He squinted with cartoonish suspicion, pulling his phone out of his pocket and holding it out of her reach.

“Stop playing around, I’m serious. I think something’s going on, I need to see those messages. Please?” Even before he grumbled with his signature droopy frown, V knew she’d broken him. He always cracked when she pulled out the doe-eyed ‘please’. Vik handed the phone over and V was scrolling through his messages in seconds.

Her brows furrowed. This wasn’t right. None of this was right.

“Vikky,” V said, shaking her head, “you sweet, stupid, old man.”

“Hey, what’s all that for?” Vik said, snatching the phone out of her hands before she could indulge her curiosity about who he could possibly be dating. 

“Misty did not send you those messages. No abbreviations, no smiley faces, no ‘xoxo’. C’mon, you’re smarter than that,” V sighed, already turning to leave the clinic; she had to get to Akuma. Vik frowned intensely at his phone before stopping V at the bottom of the stairs.

“Wait, wait. What is this, then? What’s going on? Is there anything you need me to do?” His worry would have been adorable in less scary circumstances, and V treasured the brief comfort of his familiar face. She held his arm again, partly for him, partly for herself.

“I need you to go on your date, Vikky. I’m looking into it, don’t worry. Just…keep your phone handy. If I need you, I’ll let you know, promise.” She tried to smile reassuringly, though even she could feel its fakery.

“You sure?” 

“I’m certain. I’ll keep you updated. Have fun on your date with…?” 

“Nice try,” Vik said, letting out a soft laugh and turning V back towards the stairs, “alright get outta here, kid. I’m not telling you a thing.”

V was soon back on the streets and hailing a Delamain to Akuma, wanting to dwell on Vikky’s secret date for the sake of thinking of something other than Misty. 

Sitting in the Delamain, Johnny appeared on the seat beside her. He stayed quiet for several minutes before finally broaching his concerns.

‘Why haven’t you sent a message to the badge? Thought you promised him not to do something like this without him?’ he asked hesitantly.

‘Didn’t promise him anything. I can update him after, once Misty’s safe.’ Despite the obvious iciness, Johnny seemed set on persisting.

‘Would be good to have at least some backup for this, V. What about Tiny Mike?’

‘Why? So he can end up like Scorpion?’ 

Akuma was every bit the cool-but-grimy shithole Johnny expected it to be - looked like exactly the type of place he’d have loved in his time. The music was loud and heavy on the lead guitar. Every corner was perfectly dark and shady, alcoves and booths with tables that may as well have ‘snort coke here’ engraved into their slick black surfaces.

V looked around like she was going to see Misty reading someone’s tarot, ordering a drink at the bar, befriending a stranger with a shake of her blonde halo of hair. But, of course, the girl was nowhere to be found. V even checked her phone again, to no avail. 

After another quick scan of the club, V strutted up to the bar with her head high. Johnny took note of the eyes on her as she weaved through the crowd. Guys and girls alike followed the easy sway of her hips and the shining curtain of her hair, and she ignored them all equally.

Her skin didn’t crawl at their closeness, her pulse didn’t spike when they breathed way too close. She was entirely focused on reaching the bar, and everyone that wasn’t Misty was a total nobody.

Johnny had to admit that he was impressed; she stepped into the role of La Tigresa like she hadn’t seen some of the most harrowing shit possible in the last twenty-four hours. Like she wasn’t even dying.

At the bar she ordered an old fashioned, of course, and pretended to sip at it slowly, keeping a close eye on the goings on around her while she perched on a stool. No sign of Gaur anywhere, or Ichabod, but that wasn’t a surprise. He was never on front-of-house. Too off-putting.

It took less than ten minutes of sitting and shining like a gemstone for V to reel in a stinker. Some slick young stud in a leather vest, sunglasses propped on top is his bleached-blonde hair.

“Excuse me,” the guy started, one hand ghosting against her elbow to get her attention, “do I know you?”

“No,” V deadpanned, having to remind herself that this guy could be a font of intel if she played her cards right, “think I’d remember meeting you.”

“Very nice,” he smirked, “can I get you a drink?”

“What’s good here? I ordered an old fashioned but I gotta say it leaves a lot to be desired.” V’s smile was practiced and perfect, one Johnny could remember seeing on her face in her memories of Atlanta. It was like watching a master painter at work, the way she swished her hair over one shoulder and tilted her head like this schmuck was fascinating.

Her once-over of him revealed two pockets on the front of his tight-fitting pants: one with what looked like rolls of eddies stuffed into it, the other with vials of what looked exactly like the samples she’d found at Edgewood Farm. Okay, so this guy was someone to know after all.

“There’s a house special positively filled with desire,” he said, leaning in towards her slightly and ogling her with all the subtlety of a neon moron, “can I tempt you?”

“Why not?” V replied with a demure smile and a carefree shrug. “Do you come here a lot?”

“All the time.” The man leaned on the bar and hollered over to the tender for a house special, ‘for the lady’. V twitched internally hearing that. Johnny wondered if it triggered memories of Atlanta. Of Dean parading other girls around the club right in front of her while she pretended not to exist.

“I’ve heard a lot about this place. Heard it’s a good spot if you’re looking for more…unique experiences.” V watched the man smile at her, looking for signs of calculation. His eyebrows raised and he shook his head with a playful laugh. So far, this was just like a hundred other barside encounters. Still, she was hopeful to learn more.

“It’s got a vibe all of its own,” he nodded, nudging her drink closer when the bartender was finished. V took a moment to consider the drink - tall like a Long Island iced tea, with a rich red color filtering down through the ice. She took a slow sip, surprised at the dull flavor.

Johnny’s head, however, immediately felt different. That wasn’t even possible, as far as he could tell, but still. Something was going on. He tried to ignore it, focusing on what V could learn about Akuma and Misty and this asshole instead.

“What d’ya think?” he asked, nodding his head toward the drink. V took another, larger sip, making a play of savoring it even though she found it pretty bland. It wasn’t bad, just…boring.

“I can see why it’s the house special,” she smiled. Johnny knew she was smiling but his face - her face? Their face? - the face felt totally numb. Felt pretty good. He tried to communicate with V, through vibes or whatever, and tell her what was going on with him. He didn’t know if she knew it was happening; he felt disconnected from her somehow.

“Oh yeah? Well, if you like that, you’re sure to like our other best seller.”

“Sounds like it,” V giggled. It was an act, but feeling the giggles coming out of her mouth actually did make her feel better, which was weird. She pushed on. “I heard they have, like, acts here, right? Fire breathers and tarot readers and stuff?”

“Yeah, that’s right. Tarot Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. The fire breathers are new, I don’t know if they have a schedule yet, but you’ve gotta check ‘em out, they’re awesome.” His enthusiasm was infectious, and V found herself smiling along with him, leaning in towards him with an easy laugh. She had to remind herself to focus on Misty.

“Tarot sounds so fun! Where’s the tarot tonight? I’d love a reading.” She was already turning her head, looking from dark booth to dark booth, hoping for any sign of Misty’s presence. 

“It’s the third booth on the left here, see?” the guy said, jerking his head over his shoulder towards the wall behind him. V leaned out from her barstool, just far enough to see the tarot reader. Some androgynous practitioner with multicolored dreadlocks, shuffling cards and circling an acrylic-nailed hand over an old-timey crystal ball. “Armistice, our resident reader. Comes here a few times a week and tells folks how much Bliss it’ll take to undo their sins.” His laugh was a slimy noise that made V twitch again.

“Our?” V asked, taking another sip of her drink. It was starting to taste pretty good now. Johnny’s tongue felt like it had grown fur, and it still seemed like V couldn’t understand the energy he was putting out, or if she did she just didn’t care. He was getting impatient.

“What can I say? You got lucky; I’m a part-owner. Technically, the place is mine. The building, that is.” He was so pleased with himself, Johnny wanted to punch him in the face. V was more focused on trying not to panic. Too many things were starting to line up.

“Wow, a part-owner. That’s so cool.” V’s voice was starting to sound like someone else to her ears, to Johnny’s ears. She took a bigger sip of her drink, finishing it off with an exaggerated gulp. “Got any more of these?”

“Wow,” he laughed, eyebrows raised in apparent disbelief.

“What?” V giggled, suddenly giddy as a school kid as she twirled a piece of hair around her fingers. The man stopped laughing and turned to her, suddenly serious. He had a look on his face that made her freeze - mid-twirling motion.

He reached a hand out, slowly, painfully, horribly slowly, and touched his fingertips in a delicate stroke across her chin.

“It’s just,” he started, V’s stomach already dropping like she’d jumped from the top of Konpeki Plaza, “they don’t make ‘em like you anymore.”

And that was it. 

V was gone, or at least, Johnny couldn’t feel her anywhere. He was seeing with her eyes and looking around by twisting her neck but he could barely get a grip on what the fuck was going on. He laughed, or maybe made V laugh, not wanting to give anything away to this asshole if he could help it.

“You’re funny,” V’s voice said, pulling away from the guy and going to stand from the stool, “I’ll be right back, just gotta use the ladies’ room.”

“Sure, you know where to find me,” the guy winked, what an asshole, and watched with entirely too much interest as V stood up. It was surprisingly easy to get through the crowds. Johnny felt completely legless, but it seemed like V wasn’t fairing too badly.

They beelined for the exit, Johnny flailing internally as V strode through the dancing throngs like she was programmed for this. 

The air outside was cool and crisp and it hit V’s face like an ocean wave, bringing her back. She breathed deep, ragged breaths, her mind fuzzy like old tv static. Normally, something like this would have her in a tailspin of panic and fear. But, surprisingly, she felt none of that. Something was swirling within her, but it didn’t make her scared. It didn’t upset her. It was just there.

Johnny, however, was having less fun. V’s steps were confident and sure, but Johnny felt like he was eternally falling over. He wished he wasn’t alone. Wished V wasn’t alone. Wished the fucking cop was here.

“V?” Johnny looked up and couldn’t believe V’s eyes. The fucking cop.

“River!” she called out, strutting over to him with outstretched arms. He held her, and Johnny felt more grounded immediately. She kept one possessive hand on his chest when she pulled back. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean?” River replied, looking at her with transparent concern, “you sent me a message.”

“I did?” V asked, her head tilting and eyes widening. River had no idea what was going on but he couldn’t fight the swell of his heart at her looking so adorable.

“Yeah, you did, look.” He got his phone out and showed her the message she’d sent.

“Are you alright?” he asked, noticing her overall state with growing concern while she just looked down at his phone, smiling. 

“Gatita?” she asked his phone screen, gray eyes peering up at him. His gut twisted, certain he was about to get an earful for the overstep.

“Shit, sorry. I-I changed it earlier, I shouldn’t have, I’m sorry, I-”

“I love it!” V enthused. She grinned and River’s heart stuttered, though his concern skyrocketed at the sight of her blood-red gums. She stepped closer to him and he saw the glazed-over look in her eyes.

“Shit, V, are you feeling okay? How many drinks have you had?”

V threw her head back in a chuckle, taking River’s phone and slipping it back into his pocket so she could grab his hands and hold them firmly on her hips.

“I’m feeling amazing, don’t you think?” She moved his hands around in a slow circle on the swell of her hips before reaching for his coat collars to hold him close. “I’ve only had two drinks, detective, and I promise I’m not driving - but I’ll say I am if you’re looking for excuses to cuff me.”

“V, I’m serious, how much have you had?” River brought his hands up to cover her own. It felt dirty to touch her body like this.

“Two drinks!” V slapped a hand against River’s coat collar with her conviction, then brushed a sharp talon along the planes of his face and spoke softer. “I wouldn’t lie to you, baby, I swear.”

“Well, what else have you had?” River tried not to take her too seriously. It was obvious something was off, he’d be an idiot to take her at her word.

“There somethin’ in your ears, guapo? Two. Drinks. I will admit though, that second drink was a little special, never had anything like that before,” V chuckled - a musical little sound that River would have loved in just about any other context, but the detective in him only noticed another flash of her gums.

“V?” He mentally prepared himself for whatever response this was bound to get. “Can I look at your gums, please?”

“Sure thing, bonito - and you don’t have to call me ‘V’, I like ‘gatita’ just fine,” V winked, grinning and jutting her jaw forward to present her mouth to him. River swallowed hard and told himself to forget everything she was saying to him at his earliest convenience.

Holding her face with one hand, he pulled gently at her lip with the other. Her gums were stained a deep red, each tooth highlighted like she’d been punched square in the mouth.

“You get into any trouble in there?” he asked, slowly turning her head from side to side. The staining was extensive; when she took a breath to answer him, he noticed her tongue was blood-red too.

“No, officer,” V said in a purr, flicking her tongue out to catch River’s thumb as he touched her lower lip. He snatched his hand back with a sharp inhale, feeling his heart beating out of his chest. What the fuck was going on? “Just met a nice guy who got me a drink. Next thing I know, I’m out here with you and you’re looking bien como el infierno.” 

River’s translator caught it as [fine as hell] and told himself not to read too deeply into it.

“What did this guy look like?” 

“Tall, though not as tall as you, guapo. Asian guy, bleached blond hair, had a leather vest on.”

“Shit,” River sighed, “that was Haru. You know, the Claw that’s working with Gaur and Ichabod?”

“Is that bad?” V asked, tilting her head again in that way that made River’s heart hurt.

“It’s not good,” he replied, shaking his head and wondering what the fuck to do.

“I’m sorry.” V’s voice was small and sad and River debated going inside and pulling Haru out by his bleached hair and choking the life out of him. Thankfully, comforting V came to him more naturally.

“It’s okay, V, it’s not your fault. We need to get you some help, though. You’ve got that great ripper, right?”

“Yeah, Vikky’s the best. He told me to call him if I needed him.”

“Well, you need him.” River still remembered her brushing him off when he commented about wanting to meet the craftsman behind her perfectly healed lip. He liked to think they were closer now, but he would still respect her boundaries. For all he knew, this was like her apartment, a no-go zone. It was worth asking, just in case. “Can you do something for me?” 

“For you, River? Right now? Anything. You can ask for anything and I’ll do it. I’m serious. Suck your toes, peg you, call you daddy, whatever you want.” Her sultry tone and words were doing far too much to him, and River knew he had to get her away from Akuma and in front of a qualified ripper as soon as fucking possible.

“Can you please show me the way to your ripper’s clinic? I need to make sure you’re okay.”

“That is so sweet,” V giggled, turning away from River and pressing herself back-first into him. She took one of his hands and wrapped it around her, pulling the other to her mouth to kiss it. With a happy sigh, V craned her neck back to plant a kiss on the edge of River’s jaw. “You’re so good to me, guapo.”

“Thank you, V,” River said, clearing his throat and delicately unraveling them. Whether he liked it or not, he was going to replay a lot of this conversation later. He kept hold of her hand, tugging her in the direction of Mack. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

They arrived at the clinic less than twenty minutes later, V having devoured the food River brought for her in the first five minutes, and River was surprised to see the ripper waiting at the top of the stairs already. He looked so familiar but River couldn’t place him, only hoped he hadn’t arrested him at some point in the past.

V said he’d been out on a date, said she felt bad for interrupting, but she was swayed easily enough when River asked her to call him anyway. She was more than happy to do anything River suggested; something was definitely wrong with her.

“V, who’s this guy?” The ripper eyed him with obvious suspicion, and River hung back while V sauntered up to the man and hugged him tight.

“Vikky,” she sang, “this is River Ward, Night City detective and exceptionally sexy bachelor.”

She reached a blind hand out behind her and River hesitantly took it, feeling his cheeks burning and wondering how he was supposed to explain this. V turned to face him, reaching her other hand out to hold the ripper’s - very much against his will, by the look of things.

“River, this is the best goddamn ripper this side of the Mississippi: Viktor Vektor. And this-” she pulled them both towards her until she was firmly sandwiched and both men were trying to break free “- is just like several dreams I’ve had coming true.”

“V, mija, what are you doing?” A new voice snapped V out of her focus and River and the ripper both took several steps back. Before he had time to think about that name - the Viktor Vektor? - an attractive older latina lady was coming up the last few steps from the clinic, shaking her head disapprovingly at V, who at least had the wherewithal to look embarrassed.

“Mama? What are you doing here?” She looked between the woman and the ripper several times before gasping dramatically. “Oh my god! Your date? Your date, Vikky?!”

“Look, kid, we were gonna tell you, we just didn’t know how.” The ripper replied, practically hiding behind the older woman as V crossed her arms and sneered.

“I can’t believe you! Jackie would never have let you do this.” 

“Let us?” Mama Welles seethed, flicking her hair over a shoulder exactly like V would. River was caught between feeling awkward, intimidated, and strangely delighted to get this behind-the-scenes glimpse at la tigresa’s world. “Mija, you know as well as I do that nobody decides my life but me. Viktor treats me right and we’re very happy together.”

She said his name like Veektor and River couldn’t help but wonder if it did the same thing for the man as hearing V call him Rivurr. He risked a glance at the man in question - looked every bit as embarrassed as River felt.

“River!” V hollered, turning to stomp in his direction, “Come on, we’re leaving.”

“Wait wait wait,” he urged, reaching out to hold her shoulders and getting her to look up at him properly. There was still a fogginess in her eyes that made him feel sick. “Can you stay for me, V, please?”

“Of course, baby,” she sighed dreamily. River glanced past her to see growing concern on Viktor and Mama Welles’ faces and felt relieved; he was with people who knew her well enough to know how wrong this was.

“Alright,” he started, trying to sound authoritative, “cards on the table: I asked V to bring me here because I think she’s been drugged.”

“What? That’s not possible.” The latina lady hissed, stepping forward and pointing an accusatory finger in River’s direction. After a beat, she turned to face the ripper. “Viktor, tell me that’s not possible. Not after all the work she’s done.”

“I’ll need to check her blood to know for sure. C’mon, V, let’s run some tests and see what we can do for you, huh?” Viktor and Mama Welles approached V from either side and started guiding her down the stairs like she was a newborn foal. 

River wondered if he should leave - V seemed to be with her family, after all - but V stopped and turned to look at him.

“You’re coming, right, baby?” Her cat-eye pupils were dilated and round and River stood zero chance of doing anything but nodding and following close behind. He did notice, however, a series of glances between Mama Welles and Viktor that spelled trouble.

“Of course,” he said, wondering if it was wrong that he wasn’t asking her to stop calling him that.

The ripper’s clinic - Viktor fucking Vektor’s clinic - looked like any rundown back-alley ripper setup, but River trusted him. He’d seen how good V’s lip looked, and he knew first-hand how bad it had been. Besides, the guy was a Night City boxing legend.

They brought V over to the operating table and gently sat her upright, chromed-out gorilla hands bundled nervously in her lap. When Doctor Vektor approached with a needle, V grabbed River’s arm and pulled him close.

“Hey, V, you okay?” River asked.

“I’m nervous,” she replied, pressing her face into the arm of River’s coat, “have I been bad?”

“What? No, no you’re okay.”

“V, mija, Viktor just needs to take a little blood, alright? Just a tiny bit so we can make you feel better.” Mama Welles rubbed a comforting hand up V’s arm and the merc was offering it out easily within a minute. Seemed like maybe whatever she’d taken made her susceptible to anyone’s suggestions. River didn’t dwell on what that could have meant for her if he hadn’t got to her in time.

Doctor Vektor took a few samples and wheeled his stool straight over to a counter at the edge of the room, flipping switches that lit up an array of microscopes and other contraptions River couldn’t name.

V’s hands slipped around one of his, squeezing his fingers and smiling up at him with total trust. God, she could have been looking at Haru with that expression if things had gone differently. He tried to return her smile, hoping to keep her calm, when a click of Mama Welles’ tongue got his attention.

“So, you are detective River Ward of the NCPD?” With her arms crossed and her hip cocked to one side, River started to wonder if this woman somehow was V’s actual mother.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You patched my niña’s lip?” She flicked her hair in V’s direction, who was busy sitting quietly and smiling like it was her birthday party.

“I did.” 

“And what are your intentions with our V, hmm, joven?” One perfectly-manicured eyebrow raised and River felt his pulse in the side of his neck. His translator suggested she’d called him [young man]. Is this what it felt like to be interrogated at the station? When was the last time anyone had referred to him as a young man?

“Uhh, right now I just want to keep her safe and do everything I can to help her. She’s told me about her…predicament, with Silverhand.” That got Mama Welles and Doctor Vektor staring at him with unreadable expressions, the tension rising. “I just want to help. I care about her. A hell of a lot, ma’am.”

“No,” she shook her head, holding one finger up to waggle it around like she was scolding a dog, good to see where V got it from, “not ‘ma’am’. I am Mama Welles, mijo, so you’ll call me Mama or not at all.”

“Yes, Mama.” River had never called his own mother ‘mama’, but it still gave him a childlike sense of comfort to say the word out loud. The knowing look she gave him made River think she knew she already had him, hook, line, and sinker.

“So, mija, mijo, do you two want to tell me what’s going on here?” She waggled her pointing finger between them, leaning her other hand on her hip and tapping one foot.

“Can’t you see that he’s the best-looking guy in town?” V giggled, apparently moved well past her previous fear and nervousness. Mama gave River a very pointed once-over and he was feeling hot under the collar all over again. 

“El es muy guapo,” she said. [He is very handsome]. River choked out a smile and something between an embarrassed cough and a laugh.

“Thank you, Mama. I would say I can see where V gets her good looks, but you honestly look more like a sister than a mother.” That got him a laugh from Mama Welles complete with a playful slap on the chest. 

“Adulador,” [Flatterer], “River, que lindo.” [how cute]. Her voice came out in a purr that sounded so similar to V, he could feel his wires crossing. Between Mama Welles calling him handsome and now cute, River was confident he was getting points with her - something he was certain he’d need going forward.

“Mama,” V whined in a sulk, “first Vikky and now this? C’mon.”

“Okay, kid,” Vik sighed, strolling over from his equipment, “I got some questions for you.”

“Sure, Vikky, what is it?” V asked, jealousy and sulking already forgotten. Something about this stuff was clearly impacting her mood like crazy.

“Just tell me honestly, have you taken anything tonight? You’re not in trouble, I just need to know.”

“It’s like I already told River, I’ve only had two drinks,” she shrugged. Doctor Vektor looked to River for confirmation.

“She sent me a text asking for help at a club called Akuma.” Mama Welles gasped, spitting on the ground and throwing her hand in a cross formation on her chest. River paused, confused and a little scared, but she urged him to continue with more hand gestures. 

“We were supposed to go there together to look for Misty, but I don’t know, something happened, she went without me. When I found her she said she’d only had two drinks. But look at her mouth, her gums. V, can you show Doctor Vektor your gums, please?” River could hear himself rambling, starting to panic. What the fuck did Haru do to her. Why didn’t she wait for River? Why was he so stupid to wait for her text? Joss was right.

“Alright, son, thank you,” Viktor brushed him off with a nod, shining a torch in V’s open mouth and assessing the crimson coloring, “V, somebody drugged you tonight. Spiked your drink. How do you feel?”

“Honestly? I feel…easy,” V shrugged. She looked between Mama Welles, Doctor Vektor, and River. He couldn’t help but feel a little proud and a little pleased when her smile grew looking at him. “I feel like I could do anything.”

“Heard anything from Johnny since you had your drinks tonight?” Viktor asked. V seemed to take a moment to think about it before shaking her head and smiling wide again.

“Not a peep, no wonder I feel so free.” She started laughing and then suddenly stopped, hand clasped over her mouth. Her shoulders shook with a hiccup and she sighed with relief. “Thought I was gonna throw up, but I’m good. Anyway, what should we do now?”

“We need you to get some rest, kid.” Viktor started walking over to a trolley in the corner, rifling through boxes of meds and coming back with a strip of pills. “Pretty standard hangover cure. Take two tonight, two in the morning, and gimme a call straight away when you’re up. We’re gonna have to go over a few things.”

“You’re not gonna give her anything else?” River asked, looking at the pills with concern.

“Nothing I can give her,” Viktor replied with a resigned shrug of his shoulders, “nothing’ll push the drugs out of her system any faster, and I don’t even know what drugs are there in the first place. Gotta talk to Reggie about this.”

“Regina Jones?” 

“The same. We go way back. I called her right after V called me, she said V sent her some samples earlier tonight, could be the same thing. I need to take her blood samples over to Reggie’s lab to find out.” Viktor turned to Mama Welles. “Do you think you could stay with her tonight and watch her?”

“No!” V interrupted, squinting at Mama Welles and tugging on River’s arm. “I don’t want her to stay with me. Home-wrecker.”

“Mija, how could I be a home-wrecker? If anything you are the home-wrecker. You think Viktor hasn’t told me about how you flirt with him all the time?” It turned out mothers were mothers 24/7, whether you were drugged or not. River didn’t know how to feel about the revelation that V was apparently flirting with her ripper all the time, but it didn’t slip his notice that it was his arm she was hanging on, not Doctor Vektor’s.

“I don’t want her to stay with me tonight,” V reiterated, looking only at Doctor Vektor and ignoring Mama Welles.

“Well, kid, somebody has to keep an eye on you.” An uneasy silence fell over them and River noticed their gazes all shifting in his direction. 

“I, uh, I thought you didn’t let men into your apartment?” River asked V, wondering how to best navigate taking home the woman of his dreams in front of her de facto parents. V stepped off the table and started walking across to the stairs, gearing up to leave. 

“I make an exception for you, guapo. C’mon, you have to read me my bedtime story.” Her voice reminded him of that first night they met. Sexy as hell, of course, but somewhat impersonal. Not the gatita he’d come to know. River turned back to look at Mama and Viktor, seeking some direction.

“Well,” Mama Welles sighed, “that’s decided. It’s okay, mijo, I know you’ll look after her. I know you know what I could have done to you if you don’t.” The steel of her threat had River’s spine straightening.

“Yes ma’-Mama,” he corrected himself at the last minute, seeing her nod approvingly. Viktor got close to him, planting one heavy bear paw on his shoulder and handing him the pills.

“Make sure she takes these, should be easy enough since she seems happy to do whatever you want.” The doctor’s grip firmed up to the point of hurting and he gave River a tight jostle. “I trust you know better than to abuse that type of power, son?”

“Of course, sir. I promise, I just wanna look after her.” When was the last time anyone called him son without being an asshole about it?

“I know, otherwise you wouldn’t’a brought her here. I’ll send you my contact, let me know if anything happens, other than that, just make sure she doesn’t choke on her own vomit.” And with that, they sent River on his way, holding V’s hand like a real couple and letting her guide him through Megabuilding H10 to her apartment.

He didn’t know what he expected V’s apartment to be like, but it wasn’t this. Clothes on every surface, a huge white fluffy rug, overstuffed pink pillows cushioning every corner. 

He told his eyes not to perceive her bed capsule in the corner. That was none of his business, even if his heart did pound at the sight of Fornido on it. He was here as a bodyguard, not a boyfriend.

River walked slowly, keeping a respectable distance between V and himself. He shucked off his coat and hung it on the back of the couch, taking a seat and rubbing a hand over his face. Fuck, he was tired. 

V stood in front of him, a goofy smile in place that reminded him of Randy earlier that same day.

“Can I get you something to drink?” he asked, “Some water maybe?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that? I am the host, after all,” V giggled, twirling a piece of her oil-spill hair around in her fingers, “besides, I’ve got a tall drink of water right here.”

She slipped onto his lap, knees either side of his hips, dress riding up way too high, just like how she’d been at the trailer only last night. Her hands were smoothing up his chest and River was already scared of how long this night was going to be.

“V-”

She cut him off with a kiss, leaning her chest into his and pushing them both back against the couch cushions. River hated that he didn’t hate it. He tried to reason that he was just a man, and she was the woman he wanted, but it didn’t help.

Her lips were soft again, her nails digging in just the right amount on the tops of his shoulders, and her amazing smell was all around him. In the end, he had to hold her upper arms and ease her away from him just as he felt her tongue start to tease his bottom lip. 

“V, we can’t.” She looked at him like an abandoned kitten and he felt like the meanest bastard alive.

“Why not? Don’t you like me?” A punch to the fucking gut. Why did life always have to make him feel like an idiot?

“Of course I like you, V. You know I like you.”

“So why are you calling me ‘V’ then?” Her fingers were running delicate circles over the filigree of his pendant. River’s arms were near shaking with the effort to keep his hands where they were. Don’t look down. Don’t look at her legs, her beautiful knees, the vast expanse of toned caramel thighs and could that possibly be a hint of her underwe-

Don’t look.

“What do you mean?” he asked instead.

“Why aren’t you calling me ‘baby’ like you did last night? Or ‘tigresa’ like you did after the Soul Cellar?” She leaned closer again, a playful sparkle in her eyes. “Or ‘gatita’ like you clearly want to?”

“I, uh, I…You’re not sober. I don’t wanna cross any lines here. At least, any more lines; I’m already in your apartment, where you once told me you didn’t invite men if you remember.” With as much regret as his heart could fit, River eased V over to the end of the couch, sitting her down before drawing back to his original seat. A respectable five or six feet between them, his conscience could take a breath.

“I have a name I wanna call you too, y’know,” she said with a slick smile, flicking her hair over one shoulder, “wanna hear it?”

God, more than anything.

“Why don’t you sleep on it and decide if you wanna tell me in the morning?”

“Aw, you don’t wanna hear the cheesy lines I have geared up for you, detective?” V’s voice turned dangerous and, when River looked, sure enough she was on her hands and knees on the couch, slinking toward him.

“V, please don’t make this hard for me,” he sighed, resigned, arms heavy at his sides as she clambered back onto him. At least this time she sat side-on so her dress stayed put.

“Is that one of your cheesy lines?” she giggled, wrapping an elegant arm around the back of his neck and hooking her fingers together to dangle from him like a second necklace. “I’m surprised it’s not cat-themed for your gatita. Are you a nice pussycat? Do you purr?”

She used a goofy voice to recall some of the weirdest and worst pick-up lines he’d ever heard from way back in that diner. 

“I’m not like those guys,” River said, recoiling at the idea of being associated with them, whoever they were.

“Yeah, well, you get to know something those guys never did.” Her conspiratorial smile had River’s mouth turning up at the corners, despite it all. She leaned close to him to whisper. “I do purr.”

Whatever was in her was some strong stuff. 

“Huh?” She only beamed at his confusion, broad and bright and red, grabbing his good hand and placing it against the cyberware on her throat.

“Feel,” she declared, and before River could even process what she said, her throat was vibrating under his skin. A steady, breathing trill of a purr resonated in her neck for a few brief seconds before she stopped to explain. “When I got my Kiroshis, I asked Vikky to mod the ‘ware on my voicebox - thought it’d be something fun for me, make it feel more like a choice and less like a consequence.”

River felt his mouth open and close a few times but he knew no words were coming out. His hand was still on her throat and his heart skipped several beats when she started up purring again. He shouldn’t enjoy this so much. This was a vulnerable moment for her.

She placed a hand on top of his and encouraged him to press down a fraction harder, squeezing the tiniest amount at the sides of her neck. The purring kicked up a notch, louder, stronger. Her eyes were closed and her head slightly tilted back, hair cascading down like a black silk curtain.

Was this a vulnerable moment for her?

She shifted in his lap, the most subtle little grind she could manage, and her purring cut off for her to let a tiny gasp slip when her ass came into contact with the solid bulge in his pants.

Not vulnerable. Or possibly far too vulnerable. But either way, he was already deciding that he was a bad man who was definitely going to hell. 

He pulled his hand away and readjusted her on his lap so she was sat closer to his knees. Before she could complain, he held a hand to her cheek, brushing his thumb across the smattering of freckles there.

“V, I’d like to sit here with you and stroke your hair and just unwind. Can we do that? Will you do that for me?” River’s chest was motionless as he awaited her response. V smiled, soft and easy, her eyelids seeming to grow heavy.

“Of course, baby.” She let him guide her head until it rested on his shoulder, the heavenly smelling crown of her head nestled just under his chin. His fingers were twining through her hair immediately, desperate for some way to relieve the tense energy coursing in his veins.

After a couple of minutes, her purring started up again, this time seemingly by accident. He didn’t comment on it. It was nice, enjoying the peaceful, predictable rhythm of it. When he gently scraped his nails against V’s scalp at the top of her neck, the purring intensified. It must have felt especially nice there. He matched his breathing to that slow, steady pace, and felt much calmer.

Pinned to the couch by the solid weight of a near-sleeping V, River’s mind wandered. His gatita. If she remembered any of this tomorrow, the cat was probably out of the bag on that nickname, so to speak. 

He only hoped she didn’t beat herself up too much about falling off the wagon. Or being pulled off. By Haru. The list of hurts River planned to inflict on the Claw started to grow as he let himself get creative.

A relaxed nuzzle from V’s head against his chest brought him back into the room. This room, her living room, in her apartment. Where he was stroking her head while she literally purred on his lap like his own domesticated cat. 

He was almost ashamed to admit that he liked the idea of having her like this. At least liked the idea of a sober her like this. Sober, but still comfortable enough to be this unguarded with him. To trust him to keep her safe.

Not that she needed the help, most of the time. La tigresa was alive and well somewhere under that heavy layer of whatever poison was in her, and she’d probably kick his ass if she could see this scene. She intimidated him and delighted him in equal measure, and his respect for her made him fiercely protective of her softer side - even if she was only this for tonight.

Lost in thought again, he missed the first mumbled words she spoke, giving a questioning hum for her to repeat herself.

“Was just thinkin’, wonder what we coulda been if things were different. If I wasn't dyin’. If you weren't a cop.” Her voice was small and heavy, bone-deep relaxation keeping her motionless. The comedown must have been starting.

“What if you weren’t dying?” River wasn’t about to let any version of V, sober or not, seriously consider the possibility of her dying. She wasn’t going to die. He was going to make sure that she wasn’t going to die.

“You’d still be a cop,” V scoffed with a tired snort. It was only then that he realized he’d never told her about the suspension. She still thought he was an active and committed NCPD detective. Shit, and he never told Mama Welles or Doctor Vektor. And with how he treated her after that run-in with Phelps, she probably thought he was a die-hard badge.

“And what if I wasn't a cop?” he asked, thinking again about the fictional framed family photo of his future. Who he wanted in that picture, where he wanted it to hang. NCPD headquarters? Not fucking likely. The walls of that place didn’t deserve to be blessed with a face as perfect as hers. Against his chest, V sighed dreamily.

“Then you'd be all mine.” It came out of her in a quiet breath, and just like that she was asleep.

Chapter Text

“You fucking had her!” Gaur yelled, slamming a fist on his desk in Akuma’s back office, only getting more pissed off when his monitor rocked back and forth from the shock. “She was here and you had her and you dosed her and still she got away?! How the fuck could you fuck up this much?!”

“I told you!” Haru replied, fists gesticulating with indignation, “She said she was going to the bathroom so I tailed her and she went straight for the exits - that fucking cop was there! The one Phelps warned us about. He was waiting for her. I couldn’t exactly go pull her outta his arms, not without bringing a shitstorm to everything we’ve got going on here!”

“Why didn’t you give her the strong stuff? Knock her out quick and be done with it?!”

“I did! I watched her finish her drink in less than a minute, every fucking drop, and she walked out of there like it was water.”

This revelation deflated some of Gaur’s anger. She’d had the stuff before, after all, although not quite this version. Still, between that and all the other shit Dean used to pump into her, she probably had an insane tolerance.

“Shit,” Gaur sighed, dropping back to his chair, ignoring its creaking complaint at the sudden weight. “Shit.”

“We can still get her,” Haru started bargaining, probably to deflect from the veritable shitshow that was waiting for them downstairs. Fat fucking chance, kid. “Phelps said he’s been tracing her files, tracking her movements. He’s keeping tabs on her, her and the cop both.”

“If she knows you dosed her - which she absolutely does - there’s no way she’s coming back here. Especially not with her cop bodyguard.” Gaur leaned his elbows on his desk and pushed his thick brow into his fingertips, trying to alleviate the inevitable migraine this was sure to give him. Things had never been this complicated when they were starting out, just him and Dean as two young idiots chasing the bag.

Silence drifted around the room for a minute, and Gaur wondered if Haru had taken himself out like the trash he was, but when his thick brow surfaced from his fingertips, the kid was leaning forward, conspiratorial over the desk.

“I can get her back here,” he said, voice low, uncertain. “I’ve got something that can get her here whenever we want. We can set up a plan, take all the time we need, and have her here whenever you’re ready.”

“And what fucking magic spell is it that you’ve got hidden up your ass then, huh?”

At this prompt, Haru sat back enough to worm a hand into the tight front pocket of his leather pants, retrieving a small phone and flipping it dismissively to the desktop. Gaur looked at the phone, from what he could tell it was a completely normal device. Nothing like a magic spell. In fact, the only odd thing about it was a keychain dangling from it. A chain of pink and purple beads leading to a crystal charm. Not exactly Haru’s taste.

“Gonna tell me what the fuck I’m looking at?”

“It’s Misty’s,” Haru replied, face taut with anticipation for Gaur’s response, “I might have dosed her when I got the nomad chick. She’s in my apartment. I can use this to send a message to the merc and get her here thinking she’s meeting Misty.”

Gaur let Haru stew in his idiocy for a few moments before releasing a breath and accepting that it was the best shot they had.

“Fuck, alright,” he sighed, “speaking of which, come with me. Right now you got bigger problems than the witch.”

The men stood from their chairs and headed down the grated metal stairs that led to the lab. The door whooshed open, revealing another dimension of the fucking mess they were currently in. Gaur walked up to the table in the middle of the lab, gesturing for Haru to stand on the opposite side, both of them looking down at its contents.

“You’re telling me,” Gaur drawled, scrubbing at his jaw with one hand while the other was busy clenching and unclenching, “that you didn’t see this fucking tattoo before you brought her down here?”

The ‘her’ in question lay on a metal tabletop in Ichabod Adebayo’s lab, eyelids flickering, drool bubbling at her lips and limbs limply protesting the chemicals coursing through her. Haru, loudmouth little shit that he was, scoffed with his own self righteous disbelief.

“You think I fucked her before I brought her here or somethin’? How would I have seen that?”

There, on the ‘her’s chest, artistically placed between her breasts, was a tattoo of three skeletal horses. The largest’s head was reared dramatically, mocking Gaur and his efforts to avoid any further fuck-ups in his latest business venture.

“This is a fucking Aldecaldo tattoo.”

“I know.” The little punk was already rolling his eyes like he was getting a real telling off from his old man, and Gaur felt his blood pressure rising.

“And you know that this fucking operation only works if we all follow the rules. You said she was a nomad on her own, which is what she needed to be. Nobody with a trail. Nobody with folks to come fucking looking. A-k-fucking-a, not a fucking Aldecaldo!”

“I’ll handle it!” Haru threw his arms up in a sulk, pacing around the lab. “I’ll get rid of her!”

“Don’t get rid of her,” Gaur instructed, “take her back. They’ll look for her if you dump her anywhere else and they’re bound to come here when they do.”

“How’m I supposed to do that without being spotted?”

“Not my fucking problem.” Gaur left before Haru could give him any more fucking lip. There was only so much of that kid he could take before his blood vessels started bursting. 

Ichabod asked him to come to the safehouse once he’d dealt with the Aldecaldo situation. Something about the project he’d been working on since Atlanta. The project for her. A different ‘her’ this time. Tina. Traitorous fucking Tina. The bitch had to pay, and there wasn’t a mind alive like Ichabod Adebayo’s for making people pay.

He was still reeling from Haru’s fuck up when he arrived at the safehouse: a veritable stronghold built embedded deep into the sloping sewer walls along the city’s riverside. Difficult to find, difficult to access, perfect for laying low and getting shit done - Ichabod’s specialty.

“Alright,” he called out when he arrived, “what is it? Tell me it’s something good for chrissake.” 

“It is good,” Ichabod’s distinct timbre sounded before he entered the room, clutching a datapad and nodding assertively. “He is awake.”

“No shit, really?” More assertive nodding, “Didn’t think you’d actually be able to do it.”

“He is still heavily sedated from the intravenous Sanguine, but I am reducing his doses until he is mobile and responsive. The chip is already proving effective.”

“No shit?”

“Come and see for yourself.” Ichabod led Gaur through the winding corridors of their makeshift hideout until they were both in an observation room, peering in at their latest patient. The man was laid in the hospital bed they’d set up. It would be easy to say he was asleep except for the way his head slowly swayed from side to side.

“Not much,” Gaur grunted, “but it’s a damn sight better than the way shit’s goin’ at the lab."

“Have you resolved the issue with the donor?”

“The kid’s gonna take her back. I’ll make sure we’ve got someone new in this week.”

At this, Ichabod nodded thoughtfully. “What if he encounters the nomads whilst returning her?”

“Then let’s hope they fuckin’ kill him on the spot so we don’t have to deal with him anymore. It’s what we’d be doing once the chips are working anyway, doesn’t make a difference if the Aldecaldos do the work for us. Then we’d just have to deal with Phelps.”

“The officer may still be a valuable asset to us.”

“How so?” Gaur watched Ichabod watching their almost-but-not-quite-sleeping patient. The red dots of the chemist’s additional eyes seemed to whir to life with endless scans, while his gunmetal gray optics flickered around the information on the datapad. Gaur never got used to the sight of him at work, clinical and distant.

“If the chips work as we expect, which I will ensure they do, then there is real government potential. The officer could be an avenue to getting a MaxTac contract, or even military.”

“I see your point,” Gaur conceded, rubbing at his jaw once more and looking back at the lolling head of the man in the next room. “How close are we to full function?”

“Well, he’s handling the cyberware well so far. The chip installation was smooth. All that remains is to test his obedience once the Sanguine wears off. And then some time monitoring his condition for side effects.”

“By side effects you mean Cyberpsychosis?”

“Among other options,” Ichabod nodded again, back to his assertive style. “Organ failure, muscular degeneration, and brain damage are all possibilities.”

“Not much brain left to damage,” Gaur chuckled to himself.

“His brain stem still shows electromagnetic activity.” Despite his wealth of knowledge and intellect, Ichabod never could identify a joke when he encountered one.

“So for now it’s a waiting game,” Gaur confirmed, crossing his thick arms over his chest. More assertive nodding in response. “And you’re sure she’s already got one?”

“She has a prototype,” Ichabod answered, all eyes focusing on Gaur, “it’s something I devised more than a year ago. If we can sedate her, I can update the software to my newest design.”

“Man,” Gaur said in an exhale, starting to get excited, “between her face, her body, the ‘ware she’s got now, and that fucking chip, can you imagine how much she’ll make for us?”

“I hope enough to pay what she owes.”

“She’ll pay. I’ll make sure she fuckin’ does.”

Gaur left the safehouse in better spirits. He pulled out his phone and brought up Phelps’ contact. Haru hadn’t wanted to give it up, but after the fucking mess he’d made of Tina and the Aldecaldo girl, he didn’t have much choice.

After three rings, the badge answered, visibly annoyed.

“You’re not supposed to contact me,” he said, deadpan and uninterested.

“Just calling to give you the good news,” Gaur replied, “we’ve got a solid lead on the merc. Gonna set a tasty trap and get her away from the cop. After that, should be easy enough to take him down. He’ll be off your back, and you can clear out anything incriminating from the Peter Pan case. Sound good?”

“What’re you gonna do with her?” Gaur struggled to tell if Phelps was prying for something specific. He sounded hesitant to accept what was clearly a win-win.

“What’s it to you?”

“I’m just hoping I can take another crack at her before I wipe her boyfriend out,” Phelps cackled down the line, “You know I think she was into me really, she’s just shy.”

“I’ll make sure we keep her in mint condition for you,” Gaur chuckled, hoping to appease the badge and get him feeling grateful.

“Alright, that’s what I’m talking about! Hit me up when she’s ready.” The line cut off. What an asshole. At least, once they had Tina, they could prep her. Update the chip, make sure she was ready and operational. Then they could use her as leverage to get Phelps to connect them with MaxTac, or military. And if all else failed, Phelps could be their first test of her brand new skills.

Chapter Text

V’s legs were concrete. The titanium of her ribcage pinned her down and she wasn’t sure how her lungs were still expanding. Was she breathing? The thought formed fully and sent a streak of panic through her that was strong enough to jolt her awake, though she was still too heavy to get up. 

She was in her bed. Safe. The previous night was a blur. V’s arm came into focus in front of her face, an oversized flannel sleeve rumpled with her slow movements. River’s flannel, she realized, was laid over the top of her like a shield. She turned her head to breathe deeply from the fabric, immediate comfort settling into her heavy bones.

River. He was there last night, wasn’t he? Yes, he had to have been. He brought her home. V’s stomach started dropping from some unseen height as moments came back to her in flashes. Standing in River’s arms outside Akuma. Climbing into his lap in her apartment. His hands in her hair. 

God, he’d been in her apartment. What did they do? Did he stay the night? Did he take advantage of her?

‘Ha, good one,’ Johnny’s voice said from somewhere in her apartment. V’s eyes looked for the source of the sound. In the low light, she saw Johnny sitting on the couch next to a fast-asleep River Ward. The detective was fully dressed, sat upright with his big boots flat on the floor, looking ridiculous against the fluffiness of the white rug under them. ‘Speaking of ridiculous,’ Johnny snickered, jutting his chin at River’s torso.

One of V’s favorite pink blankets she kept on her couch was thrown over River’s chest, covering him from neck to knee. His head was flopped forward a little, body slowly heaving with the breaths of his deep sleep. He looked adorable. Johnny snorted again, glitching from his place on the couch to prop himself on the end of V’s bed.

‘I might have a lot of opinions about this Neanderthal, but it’s safe to say you never have to worry about that sort of thing, V,’ he said, bringing one leg up onto the bed and resting his chin on his knee, ‘ the man’s a boy scout. Who do you think tucked you in with his flannel like that?’ 

‘Oh,’ she thought, ‘yeah, you’re right.’ Slowly, she flattened her palms beside her and hauled herself into an upright position. Despite her body feeling heavy and dense, V was surprisingly okay. Her head didn’t pound, her throat wasn’t dry, her vision wasn’t blurred or fuzzy. She didn’t feel hungover at all.

What the hell had she had? 

She couldn’t remember large chunks of the previous night, but she knew she’d been spiked. A year. An entire year of sobriety, down the drain. Sure, she wasn’t hungover, there didn’t seem to be any specific comedown other than how heavily she’d slept - and a little bit of memory loss - but wasn’t that so much worse?

What she could remember was feeling so light and easy. Not worried about what to say or how to act around River, not worried about her past catching up to her, not worried about her non-existent future thanks to Johnny’s presence in her life. Everything felt so good.

When was the last time she’d ever felt that good? And there was no terrible comedown?

‘V.’ Johnny’s voice was so firm and clear that V actually flinched on hearing it. ‘Stop before you start going down that path. It’s time to wake up the badge. Look at your phone.’

V shifted on the bed, untangling from the flannel and the sheets (and Fornido, whom she found beside her under the covers - had River put him there too?) to place her feet on the floor. The smooth, cool surface helped her focus, and thankfully it seemed like she’d ditched her phone on the floor at some point in the night, so it was within easy reach.

Why would Vik be sorry? Before V could dwell on it, she opened another message on her phone and some memories came rushing back.

Oh. Right. Mama and Vikky. Christ, could she go back to bed yet? One more unopened message on her phone beckoned her.

So no hope of going back to bed any time soon. 

‘What the hell is the Night City vampire?’ Johnny asked, his pixelated form back on the couch beside River, feet crossed on the coffee table.

‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ V responded, standing from the bed and realizing for the first time that she was wearing the same dress she’d put on the previous day. In desperate need of some steaming, but intact. The heels she’d worn were neatly placed by the foot of the bed.

River really had just laid her down and covered her over with some blankets and his flannel, putting Fornido somewhere in the mix. V looked at him again, asleep sitting up on her couch, and felt her heart floating in her chest.

She padded over to the back of the couch and ran one arm along the top of it until she reached his shoulder.

“Good morning, detective,” she said softly, leaning forward as River woke, wrapping her arms around his shoulders from behind, “sorry to wake you, guapo.”

“Hmm,” he murmured. His voice had a sleep-rich depth that made V’s legs tingle. Focus, she thought, trying not to get distracted by the smile in his voice. “V, you okay?”

“I actually am. I mean, obviously I’m not, for a lot of reasons, but right now at this moment I feel okay.” She stood up straight again as he started shifting on the couch to face her.

“How’s your head?” He looked so tired. V wanted to wrap the blanket around him again and hold him until he was asleep.

“Honestly? It’s clear. I’m not even nauseous. I don’t remember a lot from last night though. I take it I needed you to babysit me?” 

“I’m sure you would’ve been fine by yourself, but yeah, we were worried about you. I couldn’t leave you alone like that. I’d have just worried about you all night anyway,” River said with a small smile. 

“We?”

“Me, Doctor Vektor, Mama Welles.”

“Right.” Some memories were coming back. “You were there with me at Vikky’s place. And so was Mama. And they’re together. And was I super weird about it?”

“Uhh,” River started, reaching to scratch awkwardly at the back of his neck. His arm looked huge. Focus, V. “You weren’t very pleased. Seemed like you were a little disappointed that Doctor Vektor was off the market. Called Mama Welles a home-wrecker.”

“Oh my god.” V flattened her hands against her face in an effort to disappear entirely. “I’m so sorry you had to see that. Did I say anything else embarrassing?”

River looked at her, the object of his affections, the woman of his dreams, standing in her crumpled dress and hiding her face in her hands, and replayed the previous night’s highlights in his head.

Suck your toes, peg you, call you daddy, whatever you want.

This is just like several dreams I’ve had coming true.

Aw, you don’t wanna hear the cheesy lines I have geared up for you, detective?

And, of course, the line that would play on a loop in River’s mind in perpetuity.

Then you'd be all mine.

“Not really.” He couldn’t risk telling her about it just to have her take it back. Maybe it was selfish, but he wanted to keep that moment alive and real, needed to believe it even if it meant keeping it to himself.

“I can only imagine,” V grumbled, her voice gravely with the morning. River bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling too much; this was still serious, even if she was feeling better. She brushed a hand back through her hair and stepped around the couch until she could perch on the edge of the coffee table in front of him. Their knees were almost touching. “Did you sleep alright?”

“Fine, honestly,” River replied, reaching out for V’s hand. She looked down at their intertwined fingers with a smile. “Do enough stakeouts and you can sleep anywhere.”

“I bet.” She looked at him, still smiling, but there was that same barrier he’d seen at the diner had come up in her eyes. Just looking at her, like this, in this moment, was the push River needed to make up his mind. He squeezed her hand tight, giving himself the courage.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you. I’m leaving the NCPD.”

“What?” A deep line appeared in her forehead where her brows anchored down, her pouty mouth bunched up in confusion. “River, I…I hope you haven’t done this because of me?”

“No, no. At least, not just because of you. I’ve been struggling for a long time. This business with Han, how the force has reacted to it, or should I say how they haven’t reacted at all? I’ve been treading water for too long. I’m realizing that if I want to make real change, I’m gonna have to do it elsewhere.” It was only as he said it that he felt the decision become final. This was the right thing to do. Sure, it was scary as hell, but he’d learned over the years to trust his instincts.

“Well, I, I don’t know what to say to that.” V glanced down at their hands again, seemingly nervous, before she looked at him with that beaming smile that made him feel fifty feet tall. “Is it too soon to say good riddance?”

They laughed for a moment and River had to hold himself back from kissing her. They’d just woken up, and he was in her apartment, which still felt like a cardinal sin even though she seemed pleased to have him there.

“Well, since you’re surely desperate for work, do you think I could hire you as my bodyguard? I have to go see Regina and Vikky today and I could really use some good company to keep me sane. There’s food in it for you?” She said, still grinning, leaning towards him and playing with his hand. 

“Like you even had to ask,” River replied, lifting her hand to his lips for the kiss he wished he had the courage to give her mouth.

“God, I love it when you do that,” V mumbled, almost under her breath. She suddenly stood up, pulling her hand away to run it over her dress, straightening out the creases as best she could. “I have to get ready, before you distract me too much, guapo. I’m gonna have a shower, you want one after?”

“Please,” River nodded, “if you don’t mind.”

“Hmm, let me think: having a big hunky man naked in my apartment - do I mind? I guess I can come to terms with it,” she chuckled, mostly to herself, as she strolled over to the bathroom. The door slid shut behind her and River was left to take in his surroundings alone. Damn it, he still had the pink fluffy blanket over his lap, probably looked ridiculous. Still, he couldn’t pretend she hadn’t stroked his ego with that comment.

He figured he should do some stretches before she came back out - he could only imagine how stiff his back would feel the instant he started moving, and she really didn’t need to see that if she was gonna call him a big hunky man ever again. 

The speed at which he was able to stand up was embarrassing, but thankfully he warmed himself up enough to avoid V ever seeing it. He checked out the view from her apartment window until he heard the gentle whoosh of the bathroom door opening. River was pretty sure his heart stopped when he turned to see V wrapped up in a towel and nothing else.

“All yours, big guy,” she smiled, eyeing him up and down in a way that had him rushing to the bathroom and locking the door before she could see the extent of the effect she had on him.

Returning to the door of Regina Jones’ apartment-turned-lab-slash-fixer-hub had River thinking about how much had changed since the first time he was here. He’d learned about Tiny Mike here. He remembered how jealous and uncertain he’d felt. And now here he was, anchored to V’s side by their joined hands. Hell, he’d woken up in her apartment this morning.

“You’re sure you don’t mind doing this with me?” V turned to ask as she knocked. He smiled down at her and kissed her hand, half just to see the way it made her blush.

“Of course, V. I’m here for you.”

It wasn’t Regina who answered the door but Viktor Vektor himself. River let go of V’s hand, slightly queasy with the rush of disbelief - the man was a boxing legend, for chrissakes.

“How you doin’, kid?” he said warmly, bringing V in for a hug. She held on to him with a desperation that she’d done a good job of hiding from River that morning. When she pulled back, Doctor Vektor held her face and looked her dead in the eyes. “It’s all gonna be alright, okay? We’re gonna get through this. You’re gonna be okay.”

V nodded, and River was pretty sure he heard her sniffling. Viktor’s attention flicked to him for one stern nod, then back to V’s face, still cushioned by his hands. “This guy treat you okay?”

“Yes, Vikky, you know he did,” V said with a little chuckle, stepping back from Viktor to pull River into Regina’s apartment, calling out, “Regina, we’re here.”

The woman herself appeared, storming around with the same importance River had seen the last time. She stopped short when she made eye contact with him before a wry grin spread across her face.

“Ward,” she nodded, “fancy seeing you here.”

“V asked me to come.” River scorned himself internally at how pathetic he sounded. Regina had an uncanny ability to bring that out in him it seemed. Thankfully, V spoke up before he could embarrass himself further.

“I did. He’s been much-needed support through a rough night, and I have a feeling you didn’t invite me here for tea and cake.”

“That I did not,” Regina replied, her smile falling to something more stoic and familiar. “Come this way.”

She led them to a sort of conference table with a monitor at one end of it and instructed them to sit, Doctor Vektor filtering in behind them.

“What do you know about the Night City Vampire case?” she asked.

“Nothing at all,” V shrugged, “didn’t even know it was a case.”

“That’s because it’s not.” Regina flicked the monitor on and turned her attention to it. “Look at this.”

An image, looked like a still from some security footage, showed a woman’s body washed up in the outflow pipes by the canal downtown. Another pic overlaid it with a closer view of the woman’s head, bodycam clip probably. Her head was to one side, revealing a pair of holes in the side of her neck, like puncture marks.

“She was found ten days ago,” Regina said, her tone skirting around thinly-veiled rage, “she had no injuries other than those marks in her neck, no defensive wounds, no post-mortem bruising. Oh - and no blood.”

“What?” V replied. She’d gone pale.

“Not a drop of blood left in her body. And she still hasn’t been identified. And guess what? There are more.” She hit a button on her remote and the monitor started reeling through a montage of equally eerie images. There must have been nine or ten women in total. All of them with the twin marks in their necks.

“Regina, what is this?” V’s voice was a broken whisper, her eyes large and shining. River couldn’t help but think of the drug den Tiny Mike had described. Blood everywhere. Too much blood.

“Nine women have been found at different sites across the city in the last two months. None of them are injured except for these marks, and they’ve all been totally drained of blood.”

“The Night City Vampire?” River heard his own voice before he realized he was speaking. How was this possible?

“That’s what we’re calling it.” Regina nodded, mercifully turning the monitor off. “My team and I are getting it out in the media today. It’s only through lucky merc-work and clever hacking of the NCPD’s files that I even have this proof. The first body was found and reported to them five weeks ago. And there’s been no publicity, no investigation, no nothing. Hate to say it, detective, but it looks like your NCPD buddies are in on this.”

“They’re not my buddies, believe me,” River replied, feeling his jaw start to tense up. Sure, he was scared about how uncertain his future was suddenly looking, but with the way this day was going only made him more confident that he’d said the right thing to V that morning.

“He’s leaving the force,” V supplied, nodding to him with a steely stare. Maybe she could feel his fears too. Maybe she was saying it more for herself. He reached for her knee under the table and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“That’s too bad. Could use as many eyes on the inside as I can get.”

“I can get you some eyes,” River responded, thinking of Jiminez. “I’ll get a list together and send it to you ASAP.”

“Appreciated.”

“Regina, why are you showing us this?” V’s voice sounded so small, croaky in a way that made River’s throat seize up. He wanted to get her away from here, away from anything that would make her sound like that.

“The samples you gave me from the drug den in Watson. The ones you sent to me from Edgewood Farm. They weren’t exactly the same but.” Regina stopped, looking to Doctor Vektor and seeming to wait for some sort of signal from him. The doctor leaned forward, reaching a hand out to hold V’s on the table.

“The blood I took from you last night matched the samples from the farm, sweetheart. Whatever that Peter Pan guy gave to those kids is the same stuff you were spiked with.” His voice was steadfast, and his grip looked like firm support. When V spoke again, however, River didn’t have to look to know she was crying.

“But what does it have to do with this?” She already knew. They all knew she already knew. She just needed to hear somebody else say it. Regina leaned on the table’s surface, heavy lines drawn on her forehead.

“The key component in the Watson drugs and the ones from Edgewood Farm was blood. A cocktail of blood, clearly taken from multiple victims. The blood sample Viktor brought to me last night had your blood, trace elements of blood from as many as three others, and all the same core ingredients in the sample from Edgewood. I believe these women were used to get that blood.”

“The drugs from Edgewood are the same as what I had?” V asked with a quiver in her voice. She glanced back and forth between Regina and Doctor Vektor, watching them nod. “So it’s them then? They did this to me. Oh my god, Vikky, they have Misty. What am I gonna do?” she sobbed.

“You’re gonna be alright, V, it’s alright.” Doctor Vektor shot River a look that said wanna gimme a hand here, schmuck? River wrapped an arm around V’s shoulders, pulling her into his side.

“We’re gonna get Misty back, V. It’s all gonna be okay. I promise.” The cop in him knew it was wrong to promise, but his heart couldn’t offer her anything less. He’d do whatever it took to make everything alright for her.

“V, do you know who’s behind this?” Regina inquired, a spark in her eye that showed the journalist she used to be. V nodded, still sniffling.

“It was them, the guys from Atlanta. Dean’s crew. Gaur, Ichabod, and this new guy Haru they’ve got in Dean’s place. He’s a Tyger Claw, low-level, but he’s the one who owns the building.”

“What building? Where are they based?”

“Akuma, the club downtown. Misty’s been working there. That’s where I was last night when I was spiked. Haru did it.” 

“And he has Misty?” Doctor Vektor spoke up, his voice hardened into concrete by this point. V nodded, still curled into River’s side, reaching a hand up to wipe her eyes. “I’ll kill the bastard myself.”

“Steady, Vik,” Regina said, arm outstretched commandingly, “we’re gonna do this right. V, I need you to give me everything you know about all of these fucks.”

“S-sure, yeah,” V replied shakily. River squeezed her shoulder, leaning forward to prop his metal hand on the table.

“I’ve staked the place out a few times, know the basic ins and outs. Plus I’ve listened in on a meeting between them and an NCPD officer I have the unique displeasure of knowing pretty well. Name’s Cal Phelps, a real piece of shit. I’ll send you everything I have.” He felt V touch a hand to his chest, clutching slightly at his shirt. She was looking at him with so much trust in those shining eyes. He spoke low, turning to be closer to her ear. “It’s gonna be okay, V.”

“I could talk to Tama?” V offered, “she’s this Aldecaldo girl I met. She knew Misty, they met at Akuma, she said. She might know more about it, I don’t remember much of what it was like inside.”

“Sounds like a plan, send anything you learn from her,” Regina said, nodding firmly. She leaned further across the table, her face serious and intense. “Listen to me V, we’re going to get every last one of those fuckers. Here’s what I need from you. Get some breakfast - Ward makes sure she gets something decent - and once you’ve eaten, you drive out to the Alecaldos and learn whatever you can. By the end of the day, we’re gonna have a plan of action, I don’t care what it takes.”

“I’ll stay and help,” Vik said, standing from the conference table and gesturing for V to get up too, “you kids get outta here, we’ll call if we need you.”

River took V straight to the nearest diner that served real food. He led her to a booth and ushered her into one side of it, only to be grabbed on the sleeve when he went to sit on the other side. In a silent exchange he understood what she needed, and took a seat beside her.

“Sorry,” she said as he awkwardly adjusted to the limited space, “don’t know why I did that.”

“It’s alright, I’ll just miss the view I get when I sit opposite you,” he replied, doing his best to make her smile.

“Shut up.” Her voice was quiet, but her lips were undoubtedly curled up at the corners. A waitress brought them some coffee and a couple of menus, and River felt the inevitable groan of his stomach starting up. “I don’t think I want anything.”

“V, you heard Regina. I’m under strict instruction to make sure you get something decent to eat.” Before she could back out of it, he continued. “I’m getting pancakes if you wanna share? I know you don’t want anything, but you have to eat something.”

“If I choose something, will you kiss the back of my hand again?” she asked, peering between the menu and his face with a mischievous smile. He had to capitalize on this and make her laugh again, lift the mood any way he could while he had the chance.

“Of course.” He leaned a little closer, conspiratorial. “I’ll kiss you anywhere you want if you eat something.”

She didn’t laugh. Instead, she looked at him with dazzling eyes and parted lips and he suddenly remembered the existence of his libido. She smiled and looked away, swatting his arm and then not letting go.

“River! What did I tell you this morning - you’re gonna distract me too much with talk like that.” Her voice was a musical riff that River wanted to replay again and again.

“Seems like you could use some distraction, at least for a little while.” He jostled his arm free only to wrap it around her like he did at Regina’s, pulling her against his side and adjusting his coat so it covered them both. “C’mon, eat some pancakes with me and then I’ll drive us out to the Aldecaldo camp.”

“You’re staying with me?”

“Uh-unless you don’t want me to?” He started to lift his arm again, ready to make some space between them, but V quickly pulled him closer, their thighs pressed against each other from hip to knee.

“No, I want you to. I really, really don’t wanna do any of this by myself, if I’m honest.” He grabbed her hand and kissed it over and over until she was pulling away laughing. They shared a stack of pancakes (although River was confident V ate two and he polished off the rest), and he had them both in Mack and heading away from Watson soon after.

They rode most of the way in agreeable quiet, letting the radio fill the air between them. River let V choose a station, and some type of Latin R&B he knew nothing about beat a punchy rhythm for a while. V flitted between looking out the windows, tapping her legs to the music, and stroking his arm for most of it. River just tried to focus on the road.

When they were truly out in the desert, the Night City skyline behind them, she pulled out her phone and opened her contacts.

“I should really tell them you’re coming,” she explained, “they know my car, but if we pull up unannounced I think Mack’s likely to get shot up.”

“Then definitely, yeah, please tell them I’m coming,” River joked with a smile, internally clenching way too much at the idea of Mack shot to shit. V clearly noticed, her grin widening as the line went through to her Aldecaldo connection.

“Hey Pan, I need some help with something pretty big, hoping the ‘caldos can come to my rescue a little here. It alright if I head out your way?”

“You know you’re always welcome,” Pan, whoever that was, replied through the crackle of the speaker.

“Great. I’m bringing someone with me so I don’t have to drive, so tell folks to be on the lookout and please do not open fire if you see a red Thorton Mackinaw truck pull up or you’ll be breaking a grown man’s heart,” V chuckled.

“A grown man, you say?” Her voice sounded impish. “Is he really tall? Chest broad as a highway? Tan skin like a creamy cappuccino you wanna drag your teeth acro-”

“Bye Pan see you soon!” V cut her off urgently, shoving her phone back into her pocket and brushing her hair out of her face. River couldn’t fight the smug smile spreading across his face, clearing his throat to keep the attempts at laughter in check. “Shut up.”

He let the silence linger for a moment.

“A creamy cappuccino, huh?”

“I said shut up, River.” She was laughing even as she said it, her face coloring up beautifully.

“You can drag your teeth across my skin if you want, V. I won’t stop you.” That got him a firm swat to the shoulder. He glanced to see her wiping tears from the corners of her eyes as she hiccuped with laughter.

“Stop trying to get me in trouble. It’s bad enough I’m gonna have to actually introduce you to Panam. It’s gonna be so embarrassing.” She hid her head in her hands.

“Do I embarrass you, V?” River was still smiling, but he was starting to feel nervous as the Aldecaldo camp came into view in the near distance.

“God, no,” V said hurriedly, bracing a hand on River’s forearm and shooting him an earnest glance. “I embarrass myself plenty just fine, you’ll see.”

It was immediately clear that V was adored by the Aldecaldos. The ones guarding the camp perimeter gave them friendly waves, and when River pulled up alongside a cluster of vehicles, a woman was already jogging over to them. V climbed out of Mack before he could open the door for her - somewhat disappointing, but seeing the smile on her face at the other woman made up for it.

“It’s so good to see you,” V called as they embraced, “sorry I’ve been so quiet.”

“That’s alright, sister.” River recognized her voice as being the one V called on the way in: Panam. They pulled apart and Panam gave him a piercing look and a wicked grin. “Think I know why you’ve been quiet.”

“Panam,” V said, smiling but with daggers in her eyes, “this is River Ward. River, this is Panam Palmer. It was her and a few others here who got me out of Atlanta in the first place.”

“In that case, I owe you,” River said, receiving a surprisingly firm handshake from the Aldecaldo. 

“It’s nice to finally meet you.” Panam’s grin only got more boisterous as she cast a glance to V before continuing, laying it on thick. “After all, I’ve heard so much about you. Too much, some might say.”

“Okay, Pan-” 

“An embarrassing amount, in fact. Say - how old actually are you?”

“Okay, Panam,” V hissed, bodily pushing Panam away. River couldn’t help but smile through his confusion; it was nice to see V so relaxed, even when she was embarrassed. Her face had colored up to a beautiful plum when she looked at him apologetically. “Sorry about her, she was dropped on her head a lot as a kid.”

“Hey!” Panam cried, still clearly delighted with her mischief. She started walking away, calling over her shoulder. “Come see us in the mess when you’re done sucking face!”

“I’m sorry about her, really.” V stood in front of him, blocking his view of the ‘caldo camp and of Panam striding off gleefully. 

“Why did she ask me how old I am?”

“I uh, I. Uh.” It was strange, seeing V so far out of her comfort zone. Strange and extremely endearing. He watched her flailing with a smile on his face. “Okay so I might have a thing for guys older than me and I might have told Panam about you and she might love making fun of me and my old man fetish.”

“Do you think I’m an old man?” River scoffed, eyebrows raised.

“Not an old man, but older. An older man.” V’s voice took on a tone that reminded River of her rhythmic purring the previous night, stepping close to him and propping one hand in the middle of his chest. “You get it, right, River?”

He nodded, hoping she couldn’t feel how hard his heart was beating. “And you like that? Me being an ‘older’ guy?”

V turned a shy smile up at him, pinching his top between her fingers for stability as she stepped so close he could feel her pressed against him from chest to knee. When she spoke, her voice was so quiet and private he had to lean down to hear her, her breath tickling his ear. “I like it a lot.”

“Maybe I should stop trying to be young and cool then,” River murmured, letting his hands find a home on her hips. He thought about touching her face, about guiding it towards his own and uniting their lips properly. Before he could move, V’s giggling ushered him away from the idea.

“Is that what you’ve been trying to do? With your old truck and your old coat and your old music?”

“That’s enough out of you,” River dismissed, playfully shoving his chest out so she was off-balance, ignoring her pealing laughter. He turned her in his arms and pointed her towards the Aldecaldo camp. “Time to show me how you embarrass yourself more, please.”

River stood back and let V talk through everything they’d learned that morning with the Aldecaldo group she knew best. He met Mitch, who told him about Scorpion, both of them instrumental in getting V out of Atlanta. 

Mitch caught him up on how Scorpion caught a bullet on the Hellman mission. V took it pretty hard, she’d been sweet on Scorp since the start, the poor kid. River wondered if that was why she hadn’t been more specific about who exactly helped her escape from Dean.

When it was all out in the open, the club, the assholes, the drugs, Saul Bright - who River knew to be the leader of the Aldecaldos - turned to Panam. “When’s the last time you saw Tama?”

“Three days ago. I’m supposed to drive into the city tomorrow and meet her.”

“Has anybody heard from Tama today?” Saul announced, standing to get a better look at the people in the mess hall. They looked from one to the other, all shrugging and uncertain.

A siren blared through the tent, playing over a tannoy River hadn’t noticed. Everyone was on their feet instantly, picking up weapons and funneling outside.

“What is that?” V asked, looking between him and Panam urgently.

“Security alert,” Panam replied, gesturing for them to follow her, “somebody approaching the perimeter. Could be Raffen.”

The three of them followed Saul up a series of steps on some scaffolding, getting to a vantage point and looking out across the desert. Initially, River couldn’t see anything. It was mid-afternoon, the sun was high and bright, all he could recognize was the heat sizzling in the air above the sand.

And then he saw her.

A girl, couldn’t have been older than twenty, stumbling through the terrain. Long black hair shrouded most of her face, her arms curled up against her torso, trying to cover herself. She was completely naked, sunburned and scraped on her arms and legs.

“Tama!” Panam called, already running down the way they’d come, “Tama! I’m coming!”

River and V followed while Saul called for a medic to get ready to treat her. River’s heart was pounding, running through the brush that this girl had been walking through barefoot for what looked like hours. 

As the three of them approached her, he pulled his coat off and wrapped it around her. She was so small, it covered her completely. The girl collapsed in his arms, and he bent to prop her over one shoulder, turning to carry her back to the camp. Her feet were cut up like she’d been walking on glass all night.

Panam got behind him, angling herself to be within Tama’s eyeline. “Tama? Tama, can you hear me? Blink if you can hear me.” She must have blinked, if Panam’s response was any indicator. “Okay, okay, you’re gonna be alright, okay?”

River looked at V, walking beside him and looking back at him with glossy wet eyes. Her mouth was a quivering pout, her arms crossed in a self-soothing shield. He reached his empty hand out to hers, giving a squeeze before he had to let go when they reached the medical tent.

“What’s happened to her?” Saul asked, helping River to lower Tama down onto the ripper’s chair. The Aldecaldo medic was scrubbed up and ready, nodding to Panam to close up the tent behind them.

“No idea,” Panam replied, “she hasn’t said anything.”

“Saul,” said the medic, an older woman he hadn’t met before, jerking her head towards the tent entrance, “you should speak to them, see if anyone knows anything else.”

“I’ll come with you,” River added, “she should be with women she knows.” He looked at V, waiting for a sign that she’d be okay. She gave a teary nod, and he ducked out of the tent behind Saul, ensuring it was closed tight behind him. As automatic as if he was back walking a beat, River stood guard while Saul made the rounds through the camp.

Inside the tent, V was trying to stay calm. Panam held Tama’s hand while V brushed her hair out of her face. The ripper brought a medical tunic and laid it over Tama’s body, adjusting River’s coat to fall open under her and lifting her arm to take a blood sample.

“Tama, honey, it’s Lorna, can you hear me?” the ripper said, “can you tell me what happened?”

“I,” Tama started to reply. Her voice sounded like she’d swallowed sand. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright, you have nothing to be sorry for - where have you been?”

Panam crowded around Tama’s face, carefully wiping sweat from her brow. V could see the skin on her lips was pale and cracked. She looked around the tent until she found a mini-fridge with bottled water.

“Here,” she urged, opening the bottle while Panam supported Tama enough to sit half-upright, “small sips.”

She’d done it for herself a million times. Talked herself through the hangover, the comedown, the aftermath. It was the least she could do for Tama. After a few slow sips, Tama flopped back down onto the chair, limp and tired.

“Went to Akuma,” she croaked, so quiet that V, Panam, and Lorna had to lean over her head to hear. “Saw Misty. Met a guy. Woke up in the desert, near the Sunset Motel, just before dawn.”

“You walked here from the Sunset Motel? That’s gotta be more than fifteen miles. You’ve been walking all day?” Panam’s questions rolled out one after another, only stopping for a break when Tama started shaking her head.

“Couldn’t walk. Couldn’t stand. Crawled.” Tama’s voice was frail, breaking into silence every few words. V guessed she would probably be crying if she wasn’t so dehydrated.

“What happened to you at Akuma, Tama?” Panam pressed. Tama started shaking her head again.

“Don’t remember. I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“But you saw Misty there?” V couldn’t stop herself from asking, even when she could see Tama had no strength left. “Was she okay? Did something happen to her?”

“Don’t remember. V, I’m so sorry.” Tama started hiccuping with would-be tears and the three women rushed to comfort her. Lorna started an IV drip, cooing about getting some fluids into her system. Panam was dabbing a cool compress to her forehead, her neck, her collarbones, mumbling about how everything was gonna be okay. Through it all, Tama held V’s eyes, silent but pleading.

“Tama, it’s not your fault.” It seemed like the right thing to say, what she would want to hear right now. “You did nothing wrong. I am so sorry this happened to you. I’m gonna get those bastards, okay? I’m gonna make it all alright.”

Tama nodded, a weight released from her, and closed her eyes to rest. V turned to the tent’s opening, ignoring Panam’s questioning tone. River was outside the tent, but she ignored him too, even when he was trying to reach out for her. She just shrugged his hand away, walking until she was running until she was sprinting. Away from the camp and into the craggy hills beyond.

V wasn’t sure when she stopped running. When she turned, the Aldecaldo camp was a dot on the horizon. Her lungs felt tight, pushing up against her ribcage insistently. It was quiet, only the whispering wind crept into her ears. The buzzing of flies started to build, the hum of farm machinery, the gasping, choking hiccups of Randy finally breathing real air.

No, she wasn’t there. She wasn’t back there. 

Trying to bring her mind into the present brought thoughts of Misty. Where was she? What had they done to her? Was she even alive? God, what would V do if she was dead? What if it was too late?

‘It’s not too late,’ Johnny’s visage appeared before her, his hands out like he was pacifying a wild animal.

“Where the hell have you been?!” she screeched. She wanted to throttle him. Wrap her arms around his neck and feel something real under her, squeeze until he couldn’t fight back anymore. “A day like today and I don’t hear a fucking peep from you since this morning? And now you wanna tell me it’s not too late?!”

‘I’m sorry!’ he yelled, her own anger reflecting the mutual rage in their shared headspace, ‘whatever the fuck those drugs were took it outta me! I don’t have your tolerance or whatever. I couldn’t stay…I don’t know - awake, or whatever! Could only just about actually tell what the fuck’s going on for the last hour maybe.’

“So the drugs just what - muted you? Suppressed you? Easy as that?”

‘Something like that, yeah,’ he shrugged. Of course. Of course the one thing that would get Johnny out of her mind and out of her life for more than a couple of hours would be fucking drugs. V screamed her frustration into the desert air in one long lungful. 

She fell to her knees when it was out of her, palms out to catch herself before she could fall flat on her face. A whole year of sobriety, gone, and she was fucking dying anyway. Johnny got closer to her.

‘V, you’re gonna be alright.’ She felt a hand reach out to touch her shoulder and pulled back so sharply that she fell onto her ass, scurrying away through the sand.

“What the fuck?” she gasped, breaths heaving, “I felt you.”

‘I felt you too,’ Johnny replied, squatting in front of her. He looked scared.

“What does that mean?” V could feel her voice quavering weakly. Johnny took off his aviators, pretending to wipe an invisible smudge rather than look her in the eyes.

‘What do you think it means, kid? We’re running out of time.’ V wondered, if she touched his face right now, would he feel it? ‘Probably.’

“God, I need this to be over,” V cried, looking up at the endless blue reaches of the sky for help.

She wondered how easy it would be to get back on her feet, keep walking into that dusty abyss, and never look back. How long would she make it before she died of dehydration? Or a sandstorm killed her. Or she just got in the way of the wrong Raffen Shiv and they took care of her. She wished she’d brought her guns, she could get it over with already.

But then she thought of Misty. Misty, maybe alone and scared somewhere. Maybe not alone. A shiver wracked through her. She knew she couldn’t give in. She was going to save Misty, even if it killed her. Maybe that would even be the ideal.

Get back to the city, march into Akuma guns blazing, save Misty’s life and leave everybody else out of it. Vik and Regina and the Aldecaldos. River. They all had more important things to concern themselves with than V’s fate. She could get Misty to safety and know that she’d done the right thing, and nobody else had to die for her. Nobody else had to get hurt.

‘You’re being ridiculous,’ Johnny said with a dismissive smirk, straightening up and crossing his arms like a strict teacher. ‘You couldn’t do this alone, for one thing, and you definitely couldn’t do it alone and expect nobody else to get hurt.’

“I could do it alone!” V knew she was being unreasonable, somewhere deep within herself. But the combination of fear, rage, and ego within her refused to listen to anything else.

‘You couldn’t even leave this desert alone!’ Johnny yelled, throwing his arms out at her as if to emphasize the sheer size of the mess she was in. ‘Don’t forget how you got out here. You think that cop wouldn’t come looking for you if you decided death by Raffen was better than living? You think he wouldn’t do everything in his power to save Misty’s life? You think he’d be just fine and dandy if you disappeared forever?!’

“Why are you being so difficult?!” V shrieked, hands in her hair, throat raw. Johnny didn’t respond at first, waiting for her to settle from her nervous rocking. It was only when she was still that she looked up and saw the firm set of his jaw, his intentional motionless. 

‘I guess I’m feeling pretty jealous, to be perfectly fucking honest, V.’ His tone was cold as concrete and he spoke in a measured way that dragged shivers up V’s spine, pushing her to stand up. She barely knew how to respond, but she understood that he wouldn’t accept silence.

“Of River?” V watched as his face slipped from practiced frustration to raging disbelief.

‘No. I’m not jealous of your fucking cop! I’m not jealous of him, or your Arasaka dog, or Tiny fucking Mike, or any other piece of shit you’ve taken to bed. I’m jealous of you, V!’

“Me?”

‘You! You know, sometimes I wish you’d fuckin’ die already just so it was over!’ His arm swung too close and V flinched away, scared. She felt sixteen again.

They registered the interaction in a strange kind of disturbing harmony, forced to contemplate if that thought was more hers or his. The still air was unbearable, and V felt the words leave her mouth breathlessly, slipping into the vacuum between them.

“I mean, technically I guess I’m already dead, right? I did die.” It only served to stir up his rage again.

‘Yeah, you died, but you came back. And not after fifty fuckin’ years. You got to come straight back into your life, whether it was because of me or not doesn’t matter. You’re alive. I’m not.’ 

A silence hung between them, dense and heavy and suffocating. 

‘Do you know what I would give to be alive right now? I didn’t get to come back, V. I only exist in your fuckin’ head and it’s not the same. You don’t think I miss living? I miss it every day. And being this close to it, watching it through your fucking eyes, watching you waste it? Kills me.’

“So why don’t you just push me out, take it for yourself?” She knew it was a mistake even as the words left her mouth.

His eyes narrowed at her response, but he didn’t make another move toward her. Venom was thick in his voice when he spoke again.

‘Because I could never take that away from you, V. I can’t tell you what I’d give to be able to go back and make things right. With Rogue. With Alt. Fuck, even with Kerry. But I can’t go back, V. My life is over. It’s been over for fifty years, I don’t like it, but I have to accept it. But, with you, I have a chance to do something right, right now. I’d kill anyone that tried to keep you from living.’ He paused, shrugging and growing distant. ‘But what am I supposed to do when the only person stopping you is yourself?’

“What do you want from me?” Her voice was as small and frail as she felt.

‘I want you to fight for your fucking life!’ The clarity and severity made her wince. ‘I want you to decide that you’re worth it. You’re a real person, V. Not an engram, not a ghost, not a fuckin’ burial mound of past lives. You deserve whatever life you want, I just wanna help you get there and make my time here worthwhile.’

He disappeared before she could even process his words, let alone respond to them. Late afternoon in the Badlands had never felt so cold.

River found her in the desert not long after Johnny left. She heard Mack approaching and felt the combination of relief and guilt build within her. Everything he was going through, with Randy, leaving the NCPD, hell, all the shit about his own partner’s involvement in the former mayor’s assassination, and here he was dealing with her mess. If he regretted it, he hid it well, smiling warmly as he walked her over to the truck.

He picked up food for them on the way back to her apartment, explaining what happened during her hiatus; he was even kind enough not to ask why she stormed off into the desert. Regina and Vik were now coordinating with the Aldecaldos for a full infiltration of Akuma. Regina was getting Tiny to look into the Claw, working his angle with Wakako for all it was worth. Between them all, Misty was as good as found. Hopefully.

By the time the sun had set, V and River were side-by-side on her couch sharing a pizza. He’d put some music on, Nina Simone, she realized with a smile. 

“Thank you,” she murmured around a mouthful, “for doing so much for me today. Can’t imagine what I would’ve done without you.”

“Don’t mention it,” he replied with a shrug of one broad shoulder. V was on the cusp of doubling down when he held a hand out to her, stopping before she could start. “I’m serious, V. Everything we’ve been through together? The stuff you’ve done for me? I would hope it’s obvious that I’m ride or die at this point.”

Well, what could she say to that? She ate the rest of her food in silence, closing her eyes every now and then to take in the sounds of certain songs. River didn’t speak either, but his presence beside her brought such an overwhelming sense of comfort and safety, even now, after a day like today. 

V watched him when he set about clearing up once they were finished. She twisted on the couch to lean over the back of it and watch him take the pizza box out to the garbage disposal, collect and fold the jacket she’d tossed at her bean bag when she’d come in, neaten up their shoes beside the door. He did it all like he’d done it a thousand times; she felt the same swollen sensation in her chest that she had watching him make up the bed for her in Randy’s trailer.

It was only when she let her eyes linger on the way his biceps strained the fabric of his t-shirt that she fully registered the absence of his coat. “Did you get your jacket back from Tama?” she asked, leaning her head in her hand and reminding herself to make eye contact rather than ogling his other assets.

“Uh, I did. Panam brought it to me while you were gone.” V could see River’s movements tighten up a little as he swept over her desk, collating piles of obvious work and obvious trash. She bit down on a building smile as her own nerves emerged.

“So you guys talked, huh?” 

“We uh, had a chat, shall we say,” he replied, glancing back over his shoulder at her, catching her eyeline moving to his face just a little too late. “It was mostly about the various ways I can expect a slow and painful death if I ever hurt you.”

“Sounds about right,” V chuckled, “you guys talk about anything else?”

“Well, I asked about how they got you out of Atlanta, and she explained how Scorpion was the mastermind behind it. Panam and Mitch told me all about him. Sounds like he was a really great guy.” River moved back to the couch, taking a seat beside her and pulling her into his side for an embrace. “Sorry you had to lose him like that.”

“Thanks,” V said quietly, holding on to River’s t-shirt in a grip she hoped wasn’t too tight. Her throat sharpened at the memory of Scorpion. A really great guy, who died trying to save her life. A really great guy just like the one in her arms, who was now also trying to save her life. 

“They told me how much he meant to you. Panam said if he was around I’d have some real competition, Mitch said you were real sweet on him.” V pulled away from the embrace to see mischief mingling with the earnestness on River’s face. She could feel the color building in her cheeks as she tried to look away. River playfully tugged her closer. “So there’s Scorpion, and Doctor Vektor, and Tiny Mike. Anyone else I should be worried about?”

“Shut up, I don’t even know what you’re talking about,” V said with an embarrassed squirm. River didn’t let her escape, pulling her closer and chuckling, a low sound so close to her ear that she felt herself get hot all over.

“Well Panam says otherwise, la tigresa.” His voice was a playful rumble so deep she felt his chest vibrate against her shoulder with the sound. “Who is Goro Takemura?”

“Oh my god, I have no idea what you’re saying.” She couldn’t fight her own giddy laughter as she wriggled out of River’s arms. He grabbed her before she could get more than two steps away from the couch, pulling her backwards onto his lap and locking his arms around her waist. She kept laughing, turning slightly when he hooked his chin over her shoulder.

“Well I heard he’s an octogenarian you’re in love with, and I have a pretty reliable source.”

“I am not in love with him!” she gasped, twisting in River’s grip so her legs were thrown over one of his knees, a perfect mirror of how she’d been the previous night. River hoisted her closer with one hand on her legs, using the other to hold her around her back.

“Ah-ha!” he said with a pantomime point at her face. “So you do know who I’m talking about!”

“Wow,” V laughed, “with interrogation techniques like that it’s no wonder you’re such a good detective!”

The playful energy slowed down then, making way for something more genuine. When River spoke again it was with an air of reverence.

“Well, not anymore.” He brought a hand to her face, brushing her hair to the side and holding her cheek, his thumb gentle on her jaw. “Found something more important to me.”

He pulled her close, pressing their lips together. V’s arms joined around his neck, one hand flattening against the top of his spine, feeling the thick swathes of muscle there. The hand on her thigh slid up to her hip, metal digits gripping firmly and pulling her closer.

The strength of his hold had V jumping slightly, slipping from River’s lap and onto the couch beside him. Undeterred, he simply leaned further, coaxing her onto her back and settling over her, their mouths never parting for more than a breath. 

V felt her way around his shoulders and his neck, coming to rest on the soft, full muscle of his chest. She pulled away from his mouth long enough to open her eyes and take a good look at the world from this vantage point. 

One of his arms was extended over her, propped up on the back of the couch, the muscles taut, veins protruding. His pendant hung down between them in a connection that kept him from drifting too far from her. The cool sensation of River’s metal fingertips glided under her top, caressing her skin so softly that V wondered if he could feel it at all. If he knew how his touch sent goosebumps rippling across her torso.

She touched his face, to see if he felt it. To see if he felt as real as Johnny had earlier. Or realer. He was so warm, so alive, and there was so much life in him. In the rich honeyed brown color of his eye, the quirk of one thick lip and the catch in his breath when her thumb skimmed over the scars stretching across his cheek.

He was alive. He was real. He had a whole life.

“Are you sure you don’t need to head home? Joss doesn’t need any help with Randy or the twins?” The words were out of her mouth before she could think about them. She saw the confusion in his face, followed by something she was too scared to recognize as hurt.

“V, are you trying to send me away?” He pulled back into a seated position, a mile between them now if there was a foot. V was quick to follow him, to close the gap, to reassure him any way she could. Couldn’t he see how alive he was? How alive she wasn’t?

“It’s not that. It’s just. Can’t help but think you don’t need to be in this mess. You have a family, people who need you. Don’t need to be wasting your time on a lost cause like me.” Why was her throat so damn tight? Why was the downward slope to his mouth so painful to look at? Why was he only pulling her closer?

“V. I know my family needs me, and I’ll always be there for them. But you need me too, been saying as much all day. And hey, if you don’t, well the truth is I need you. Need to know I’m doing everything I can for you. It’s my time, okay? Let me waste it how I want.” He brought his hands to her face, cradling her like he had done many times before. In that way that made her feel totally fragile and completely safe. “Let me take care of you.”

“Please.” She wasn’t sure if her eyes were wet but it didn’t matter. He pulled her close, so close she was on his lap, and then he was standing up, taking them both over to her bed, and V’s heart was beating out of her titanium chest.

He laid her down with all the care in the world, cradling the back of her head with one hand while the other supported her legs. Climbing onto the bed beside her, he quickly pulled her to be half under the shelter made by the breadth of his body. V leaned up to connect their lips, lifting a leg to wrap it around his waist, desperation coursing through her.

She needed to feel as alive as he did, and every touching point gave her something she didn’t have before. Pulling him closer with her leg caused him to press at the cradle of her hips, the hardness between his legs pushing her as far from the brink as possible - she felt eternal, infinite. He was so real. So alive.

V pushed a hand up the front of River’s t-shirt, grasping at the fabric and tugging frantically. “Please,” she rasped between kisses, rewarded when he pushed away long enough to grab the hem of the offending article and pull it off in one smooth motion, throwing it who-cares-where.

It was only after a moment or two of caressing his bare shoulders and biceps that V realized she’d never seen him shirtless before. Even that morning, when he’d showered at the apartment, he’d fully dried and dressed before leaving the bathroom. She took a moment, watching her hands on his skin, tracing the fine, pale stretch marks, the faint scars, the occasional mole. “You’re so beautiful,” she said quietly, looking at his face when he laughed.

“You’re one to talk.” His voice had taken on a roughened quality that made V’s thighs clench, only serving to pull him closer. He brought a hand to her cheek, stroking his thumb in a soft circle, his eyes pouring devotion over her. She needed to be naked. She was acutely aware that she needed that look to cover all of her, every bare inch.

She half sat up, pulling her top over her head, followed swiftly by the bralette she’d thrown on that morning. It was far from what she’d wished she was wearing at that moment. Totally lacking the pageantry she was capable of, nothing like the visage of la tigresa she’d once cultivated so carefully. She’d thought about this moment so many times, and it never looked like her begging please with weepy eyes and a downtrodden heart at the end of such a shitty day.

Still, his eyes were there, pouring that look all over her, hot as molten gold. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back down, moving so he covered her completely. His fingers clutched at her waist, squeezing against the feeling of her ribs, tugging her close enough to truly grind his hips down into hers. 

His mouth was on her ear, kissing and licking and biting and breathing, all things that coaxed small gasps and whines from her. V felt her nails digging in, dragging down his shoulder blades as he trailed his kisses along her neck. The hand on her ribs made the move further north, gently squeezing a breast before getting firmer, a more desperate hold.

River pulled his mouth away, choosing instead to look at his hand, to see how it didn’t quite cover all of what she had on show; she overflowed him like entirely too much of the best thing he’d ever had. He brushed a thumb over the raised bump of her nipple and she arched up into his touch in a way that brought painful throbs of pleasure through him.

“River.” Her voice, low and quiet and crystal clear, brought his eyes back to her face. Her perfect, beautiful face, with that obscene mouth parted and open. Those ridiculous cat eye pupils were round and black in the low light of her apartment, beseeching, shining too much. 

He leaned closer to kiss her. To kiss the freckles across her nose, the stud under her bottom lip, the scar on her forehead where she’d already managed to cheat death once. His kiss was a promise; she wasn’t going to have another close call. “V,” he murmured against her lips, laying down promise after promise.

“My name is Valentina,” she whispered to his mouth. River had never been more turned on at the sound of someone’s name before. Something about it, whispered to him like a secret, felt like a final reveal. The last wall she kept around her heart coming down for him. He grinned, couldn’t do anything but, and pushed such a firm kiss against her mouth that they both broke away from it breathless but laughing.

“That’s a beautiful name,” he said, holding her chin to turn her head this way and that, thoroughly marking every spot with kisses. She pushed a hand into his face, pushing him away with a little giggle.

“Yeah yeah, get your pants off already, guapo.” Her hands skirted around the top of his pants, gentle trickles of touch around the most sensitive exposed skin. He leaned on one bent elbow, unbuckling his belt with one hand and pushing his pants down until his feet were awkwardly shuffling out of them, depositing them next to the bed so he could focus on the real task at hand.

“Your turn,” he murmured against the skin of V’s stomach, kissing and nipping at the softest parts, relishing in the gasps it drew from her. He hooked firm fingers in the waistband of her pants and peeled until he had to tug against the resistance of the thickness at her ass and thighs. Within seconds, miles of golden skin was revealed to him, only black panties covering what he craved the most. “You’re so fucking beautiful, V.”

“That’s my line,” she replied in a sultry simper, letting her arms stretch above her head. Like she could get any more gorgeous, spread out for him like a platter. River lifted an ankle, gently manoeuvring it to press a kiss there before firmly wrapping it around him, locking him into place where he belonged. He began his pilgrimage up her body.

“Love your knees,” he mumbled as he kissed the bend before working up to the plushness of her thighs, “so perfect.” Her thighs were warm and soft and inviting, parted just enough for his face to fit at their apex. It was like fate. He pushed a hard kiss against the front of her panties, jutting his chin out to get as much contact as possible. The sweet musk that filled his nostrils had him groaning.

The sound of his name falling from her lips as V tossed her head back was enough to get him to pull away. To peel those panties down her thighs, around the bend of her knees, delicately disentangling them from her ankles and flinging them to the same fate as the rest of their clothes.

He was back on her immediately, wrapping his arms around her thighs until his thumbs could reach out and hold her open. The shining rosy brown of her folds parted, slick and glossy, and River was in heaven. More beautiful than anything he’d have been able to conjure in any of his many fantasies of this moment. He gazed with wonder until she started to squirm under him, clenching his arms to squeeze her thighs tight and hear her gasp and whine.

He couldn’t restrain himself any longer, and he leaned into her with parted lips, kisses and licks featherlight against her overwhelming heat. Even with the faintest touch, River moaned at the tangy taste on his tongue. Somehow exactly what he’d been hoping for and also surpassing any expectations he’d had. He listened closely to her every breath and whisper, determined to work her to ecstasy under him.

V was writhing, eyes rolling in disbelief not only at how amazing he was at this but his pure strength. Her legs were hitched over his shoulders and locked into place, thighs intermittently pressured on all sides by his biceps when he had to pin her down. His tongue started so light it was like a tickle, slowly building in pressure to a steady thrum that seemed impossible.

“River, what are you doing to me?” she moaned, bringing one hand down to hold the back of his head. The stubble of hair growing in there felt soft under her palm, contrasting with the roughness of his jaw against her thighs when she squeezed down on him. How was he even breathing?

He growled against her, vibrations intensifying every motion he made. He had to have some type of tongue modification, she thought in her borderline hysteria. There was no other explanation for how it felt this good. It was like a diode existed at the tip of his tongue, the partner to which she assumed must be in her clit, applying pressure and electricity in the same moment, making her clench and moan with total abandon.

“River, I’m serious, I think I’m dying,” she gasped, lightheaded but firm in her grip on the back of his head. If she was going out, this is exactly how she wanted it to happen. Instead, River chuckled, pulling back just enough to look up her body, lust and determination and adoration in his eyes.

“You ain’t dying, baby.” He took his right arm from around her thigh, pushing her leg out with his elbow and planting his chrome hand firmly over her lower abdomen, trapping her in place. Then he dove back into her mouth-first, the pressure of his tongue and the suction of his lips so overwhelming that V started to see stars.

He moved his other arm, dropping her limp legs all together, and she felt the warmth of his thick fingers beginning to push at her entrance. Between his spit running down and her own arousal, the resistance was so minimal that he pushed two in at once, inch by inch. V’s hips started moving of their own volition, canting into his face and fingers like waves against the shore.

River moved with her, pushing a little further on every downward stroke, his metal hand keeping a rhythmic pressure for them to follow. The sounds she was making, combined with the obscene noise of their wet, shining movements, was sending him crazy. He opened his eyes when he started to feel her tightening around his fingers, desperate to see her face. Her mouth hung open with desperate, breathy pants, her eyebrows upturned and tears forming at the outer corners of her eyes, squeezed shut at the overwhelming sensation.

When she came she was gasping his name. Her pussy pulsed around him, constricting so tight; River imagined what that would feel like around his cock and had to stop imagining it straight away if he wanted to avoid embarrassment. He slowly wound down the movements of his mouth and hands until he felt her clutching at the tops of his shoulders, urging him to return to her face - like he needed any encouragement.

He swept a few strands of hair out of her face with his metal hand, cradling her jaw and coaxing her to open her eyes. It turned out he wasn’t patient enough for that, too eager to taste her mouth again, for her to learn how sweet she was on his tongue. He plunged into her mouth recklessly, taking any breath she had for himself, rutting the crotch of his underwear into the sensitive wetness of her pussy as he did.

When he pulled away, he held himself over her, drinking her in. Her eyes were endless pools of black, limned with only the tiniest sliver of gray. The color in her face matched the rosy hue he’d licked at ravenously, emphasizing the smattering of freckles across her cheekbones. She looked at him and smiled, not her dazzling grin, but something smaller, sweeter. Gatita.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a rasp, wiping away the dewy tears still stuck to her cheeks. She nodded, taking a few breaths before trusting her voice to hold.

“Perfect. I’m just perfect.” V wrapped a fist around River’s pendant, slowly pulling him down to press more kisses against that plush mouth. His lips seemed even plumper, probably from the workout they’d just done. The hard line of his cock rested heavy through his underwear, pushed up against her thigh, making her even wetter. “I need you inside me. Please?”

“Of course,” River replied, nodding dumbly, planting a few more kisses and then continuing. “Of course, yeah. Do you wanna go on top? Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Okay, “ V said sweetly. River was grateful she didn’t want him to elaborate; he’d hate to talk about his other experiences right now, when he was having the most important sexual experience of his life. He just knew, historically, his partners were more comfortable when they had control over the first time. 

He laid beside her, half sitting up against the mountains of pillows at the head of her bed, hastily throwing Fornido to one side - he didn’t need to be here for this. River felt the tiniest, and perhaps pettiest, form of victory, remembering the jealousy he’d had over the plushie when he’d seen V fawning over it in his truck. Looks like I’m the real winner pal, a part of him wanted to say.

Thankfully, V moved to sit on top of him before he could go too far down that pitiful path. She flattened her palms against his stomach and he resisted the urge to engage his core or hold his breath. Still, she ran her hands up and down his torso in a trance, watching her fingers rise and fall with the dips of his pecs, the very faint outline of his abdomen that sat firmly beneath a layer of stubborn fat he’d never been able to work off.

“You’re so gorgeous,” she mused, leaning forward to glide her hands across the breadth of his shoulders, gripping his biceps, “you must work so hard to look this good, guapo.”

“It’s good for me,” he replied, amazed he could even say words when ninety percent of his blood was in his cock. He’d always told himself he worked out and ate right for his health, to keep him sane, but he wasn’t about to pretend like this wasn’t the new reason he’d keep working at his body. He let his hands wrap around her hips, pulling her closer and watching her tits sway until she was so close they were pressed against his bare chest. “You’re so soft.”

“You’re not,” she said with an impish smile, sitting back to grind down against him. River hissed through his teeth at the sensation, gripping her waist jealously.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he groaned, pushing her down into him again for more of that perfectly agonizing pleasure. She chuckled, shuffling down his legs until she was perched across his thighs, letting her hands scrape over the tent in his boxer briefs. After a few playful palms rubbing along his length, she slipped her deft fingers into his pants and pulled them down his legs.

He felt the familiar exposed uncertainty of being seen naked for the first time, but the usual level of nerves was nowhere to be seen. It was like he innately understood that V was always supposed to see him like this. That she’d never laugh, or scoff, or turn him away. In fact, if he didn’t know any better, he’d say the look on her face was more hungry than anything else.

She reached a hand out with no hesitation, wrapping it around his length as best as she could and slowly working up to his leaking head. River brought a fist up to his mouth to bite on his knuckles when she rubbed her thumb through the pre leaking from his cock, smearing it around the head before pumping his length in earnest.

“Y-you really don’t need to do that,” he managed to get out through gritted teeth, “at least not if you don’t want me to cum like, right now.”

She only smiled in response, a play at something demure, before she raised up on her knees and moved closer to him. Keeping a firm hand on him, she dragged him through the slick heat of her folds, once, twice, enough times to make him look up to the ceiling for strength, jaw clenched and veins bulging.

V thought he looked perfect. Practically statuesque, his shoulders so wide and heaving, his neck thick and long and extended so beautifully. And that jaw, she could take a bite out of it. When she was ready, she propped one hand on his shoulder, half for support and half just to feel more of that muscle. 

Slowly, she started lowering down, unable to hold back a gasp at the initial stretch. It hadn’t been an illusion when she was feeling him up after the Soul Cellar. He was entirely…proportionate. His hands settled on her hips, squeezing and massaging as he laid back against the pillows. The steady, intentional pattern of his breathing helped her ease herself further and further.

The more full she felt, the more emotional she felt. The tears from before were right on the cusp of forming again. When she was fully seated, feeling the warmth of River’s hips directly under her, the gentle comfort of his hands on her skin, his heartbeat throbbing through her core, she knew she was going to cry.

He looked at her and she realized with an overwhelming suddenness that every time she’d looked into Fornido’s eyes it wasn’t the tiger she was falling for.

“I love you,” she said, gasping and wincing when he shot forward to sit up straight, his hands at her back keeping her close.

“Shit, sorry,” he said, using one hand to hold her face, wiping the tears that were already rolling, “are you okay?”

“I’m sorry. I know it’s crazy. I know we’ve only known each other a few months and I know it’s a crazy thing to say, I jus-”

His lips pressed against hers, soft but sure, silencing and stilling her. He spoke immediately when their lips were parted.

“I love you. I love you, baby. I’ve always loved you.” His kisses grew more intense, their tongues finding and losing and finding each other again as she started to rock back and forth. Every motion had the pleasure building within her, the feel of him so permanent and inescapable. Everywhere and all-consuming. He never stopped saying it, I love you, I love you, V, I love you so much. Like there was any way she could get more emotional in that moment.

V started riding him with more force, keeping a hand on his arm and using her other one to periodically pull his face in for more kisses on those lush lips. River started rising up into her movements more when she was getting comfortable, alternating between clutching her hips and grabbing her breasts. He tweaked a nipple until she gasped, her pussy clenching around him and grinding hard.

“Shit, River,” she gasped, “more. Please, more.”

Of course, he gave her what she wanted. He adjusted her in his lap so he could thrust up into her, taking a perfect brown nipple into his mouth, letting his hand tug and tease at the other one. V felt herself gushing, squeezing, coming apart in his hands. His mouth was so hot and wet on her skin, the muscle of his tongue teasing at her bud until it was so hard and pointed it was almost sore. He switched sides, rubbing his thumb around the spit soaking her nipple as he took the other one into his mouth. The way he suckled at her had her feeling like the nerves in her nipples were connected directly to her clit; there was no other way to explain the synchronised throbbing she felt throughout her body.

“Oh my god, River, don’t stop. I’m gonna cum,” she moaned, really throwing her body into the sinuous motions driving him closer to his own end. Dutifully, perfectly River continued thrusting, tugging, and teasing at that exact pace. V threw her head back, pushing her breast further into his mouth, grinding down harder to get his cock even deeper. It was like she could feel it behind her belly button, rubbing incessantly at every spot that made her veins tingle. As she came, she called out “River!”

Rivurr.

Fuck, it was perfect. What else could he do but cum? He pulled away from her tits to embrace her, his hands tight around her back, holding her as close as he could, rocking up into her in rabbiting thrusts. One hand cradled the back of her head, keeping her steady as he kissed along the side of her neck, her ear.

“I love you,” he murmured, every muscle in his body clenching as he held her firm, coming entirely undone for her. Her nails carved into his back, scratches that he was certain would welt into red, raised marks. Fuck, he hoped so. When he could move no more, he fell back against the pillows, keeping hold of her so she moved with him. 

River wrapped his arms over V’s back in an admittedly sweaty embrace, but neither one of them made any effort to be apart. For the first time that River could remember, he felt completely whole and content. Nothing else seemed to matter in that moment, and the world felt briefly at peace. Rain had started up at some point, battering against the window of V’s apartment in a pleasant droning sound, and the dulcet tones of Nina Simone wafted across the room.

He never remembered how or when they fell asleep, only that they were in each other’s arms, that he’d never felt so happy, and that he hoped - now more than ever - that Night City wouldn’t give him this gift only to take it away.

Chapter Text

Sleep hadn’t come to River so easily in more than twenty years. Still, old habits die hard, and he found himself jerking awake at the sound of some commotion out in the hallway beyond the apartment door. Sounded like somebody wrestling a vending machine. He sighed, reminding himself that he wasn’t in his memories; this wasn’t his parents’ old grocery, nobody had broken in, nothing was wrong. His usual routine of reminders. 

Normally, the next step would be to look around his apartment to remind himself he was alone, but not today. On this day, in the blue light before the dawn, he wasn’t alone. Breathing steadily beside him was unarguably the love of his life. V faced away from him, and when she shifted, her hair moved in an inky spill and exposed her bare shoulder. River’s blood started to stir. 

Becoming fully cognizant and realizing he was naked in the same bed as her had River feeling like he was seventeen again. A highlight reel of the previous night rolled a red carpet of horniness through his mind, ending in a finale of V’s voice telling him she loved him. He had to rub his chest to calm the racing of his heart. She was right there, living and breathing and in love with him.

“V,” he whispered, daring to reach his hand out to her hip. The soft give of her caramel skin had him shifting closer. “V, are you awake?”

“Durmiendo,” she murmured groggily. River’s translator picked it up as [Sleeping]. He chuckled under his breath; she probably didn’t even realize she was speaking Spanish, she sounded so out of it still. River wasn’t dissuaded. If anything, hearing her unique rasp in her native tongue had him more riled up than before. He jostled her hip a bit more insistently.

“V, baby,” he encouraged. She shifted under him, turning and easing him onto his back - eyes closed throughout - and coming to a peaceful rest with her head against his chest and one hand splayed comfortably across his sternum.

“Hmm, sí, papi?” 

“Holy shit.” It was out of his mouth before he could think, he’d never heard anything so sexy before. That woke her up. V’s eyes blinked blearily at him, an adorably confused upturn to her brow making him smile. She smiled back, speaking again with that tired croak.

“Huh?”

“Do you have any idea how sexy you are?”

“What are you talking about?” She propped herself up on an elbow and River got an eyeful of the beauty of her naked chest. He slipped his arm under her and pulled her close enough to feel the soft heat of her skin on his.

“Do you know what you just called me?” he said, smirking once he saw reality set in for her. She weasled away from his hold, turning back to her side of the bed and facing away from him. He couldn’t help but notice her face was beet red.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she replied, burying her face in her pillow.

“You called me papi,” he said, grinning from ear to ear.

“No I didn’t.”

“Do it again,” he prompted, nudging her shoulder with his hand as he shuffled closer to spoon against her, “please, baby?”

“Make me.” She turned towards him enough to stick her tongue out at him before burrowing back into the sheets. River’s jaw was almost aching from the grin he couldn’t hold back. He brought his hand to her shoulder, caressing a delicate circle and watching goosebumps form under his chrome digit.

“You remember when you told me about the terrible pick-up lines you’ve heard from gonks about your optics?” He nuzzled his head into the thickness of her hair, smelling jasmine and a smokiness that never seemed to leave her.

“Uh, sure?” She clearly thought he was moving on altogether, which is exactly what he was counting on. He reached over to gently kiss the corner of her slender jaw, nosing at her neck as he moved his lips along her throat.

River’s metal hand slipped down to the gunmetal gray cyberware he now understood to be aiding her larynx. Tracing those lines that had entranced him for so long and feeling her breath hitch under his hand was addictive. “Do you remember what you told me the other night? When I picked you up from Akuma?”

There were a few long seconds of silence as V was clearly casting her mind back to the night that was surely foggy in her memory. River spent his time running soft lines along the bump of her collar bone, working down to drift lightly around the curve of her breast, to the infinite warmth of her stomach. He thought he could probably occupy himself for a lifetime with this while he waited for her response.

“My memories aren’t super clear, but I definitely remember saying some embarrassing shit.” He noticed her voice was a little strained, her breathing starting to pick up in pace with his movements.

“Like what?” he asked with a smile, wishing for a glimpse into her mind right now.

“Liiike, telling you I would suck your toes, for example,” V replied with a breathy laugh, a subtle shiver running through her as River worked a circle on the padded jut of her hip bone.

“S’not all you told me you’d do. Said you’d call me something as well.” River could feel his giddy grin growing with V’s staggered breaths. Her body started a miniscule writhe, the exceptional roundness of her ass beginning to grind back against him in a way that tightened his grip on her.

“I do recall some of that, yes. Is that where this is going?” Her teasing tone sounded so good with a sleep-tired thickness layered on top. He grinded against her, using his grip to pull her more firmly against him, only encouraged further by the raspy gasp she released. He nuzzled her hair away from her neck, kissing the warm skin there before responding.

“Nah, don’t worry, I’m not gonna make you say anything, gatita.” At this, she made the tiniest noise, sounded almost disappointed, as she tossed her head and extended her back in a sinuous arch. A part of River wanted to bite her for being this perfect. He was sure she’d taste like a dripping peach. “I was actually gonna ask if you remember telling me about something special you can do. Something those gonks used to guess at.”

“Oh my god,” V said, groaning in obvious embarrassment but still squirming against River’s deft-handed machinations, “I told you about that?”

“And gave me a live demonstration. Which - I’ll add - you seemed to enjoy a lot.” He eased the hold he had on her hip, slowly bringing his hand back up to her neck to caress those lines again. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

“Oh yeah?” She freely stretched out, exposing her neck to his hand. River remembered what she’d done that night, and took it upon himself to carefully place his palm across her throat. He applied gentle pressure with his fingertips to the sides of her neck, squeezing slowly until he heard her gasp and push herself into his hold. 

“Yeah, and it turns out I do have a corny line of my own for you.” Before he could get carried away, he relinquished his grasp, letting her take his hand in her own and push it down to the apex of her thighs. Her skin was dewy with sweat and wetness that had him delving his fingertips into her glossy folds, slipping around until he found the spot that made her moan and memorizing it.

“You do?”

“Mhm.” River moved his fingers to frame her clit, stroking in motions that added pressure on both sides until she was practically panting. “I was wondering, if I pet this pretty pussy just right, are you gonna purr for me, gatita?”

“Oh my god,” V moaned, rolling until she was facing him and hitching her leg up over his hip. “River, papi, fuck me. Please? God.”

“Like you even need to ask,” he said, pressing their lips together as he maneuvered them so he was on top of her. Even in his wildest, stupidest fantasies he couldn’t have come up with a woman like this saying these words like this and looking up at him with these trusting eyes that made him want to give her the world.

He watched those eyes roll and her head fall back as he pushed into her, relishing in the way her nails dug into him. He tried to be gentle, not sure if she’d be sore or if this position would be too much for her. She quickly wrapped her legs around his hips and tightened until all of her lower half was lifted away from the bed, closer to him, pulling him in as deep as she could, erasing any of his previous concerns.

He used one hand to help hold her up, bicep straining against her weight, the other making a fist-shaped dent in the mattress beside her head. He wanted her to say it again already but he was almost certain he’d cum if she did. Instead, he focused on the pain of her talons in his shoulder, although if he were honest with himself he knew that was also getting him closer.

V’s eyes opened, half-lidded, gazing up at him and lit up a silvery blue that was turning warmer as the sun got closer to the horizon. River watched her go from using a hand to brace on the cubicle wall surrounding three sides of her bed to trailing it down her body. She released his shoulder with her other hand, drifting to his jaw and tilting his head up so he’d hold her eye contact.

River strained the abilities of his peripheral vision to see she was stroking her glossy folds, and then he felt her fingertips against the skin of his shaft that was exposed. She positioned her hand so two fingers were pressing against either side of him; every stroke fucking divine with the added tightness and warmth. Fuck, was she vibrating? No, she was purring, literally fucking purring and stroking his cock while he fucked her.

His eye squeezed shut, fighting the inevitable end. Their united writhing got faster, more desperate, panting and painted the color of morning. Every part of her, fingertips to toes, got tighter around him. River became aware of V’s hand caressing his jaw, working up to the back of his head and pulling him nearer. Her sleepy breath hitting his neck, and then her lips, full and soft, and then her teeth. A moan tore out of him and he would have felt embarrassed were it not for how debilitatingly tightly her body held him in response.

They began stuttering, clearly reaching their peak. V gasped after a particularly powerful stroke, holding River’s face against hers and dragging her thumb across his lips.

“River, look at me, baby.” Her voice was smooth, even with their breathless movements. He shook his head minutely, grinning.

“I’m trying not to cum too soon,” he replied with a laugh. 

“Don’t.” The command in her voice was impossible to ignore: pure tigresa. He looked at her, at her swollen pupils, lips, nipples, and held himself back again to stay sane.

“Don’t try? Or don’t cum?” he asked between gasping pants. She gripped his head so firmly he could look nowhere else.

“Don’t try.” Fuck, of course he was going to cum now. La tigresa owned his fucking soul and he was entirely, blissfully without hope already. The silver lining in her cat eyes was practically glowing as he moved faster, deaf to his lower back’s complaints. He was a breath away from his end when she said it. “Fuck, yes, papi.”

Yep, that one hit where it counted. It was all over for both of them in a few beautiful, long seconds. His back was killing him. He pressed his face into her neck, breathing in the smell of her skin until she gently eased him away.

“I’ll be right back,” she said with a kiss. She was smiling under him, sultry and slinky as she slipped her way out of the bed and into the bathroom. 

River pulled himself to sit on the edge of the bed, slowly stretching and wincing. He had to make sure he got this stupid pained look off his face before her return. He felt like a lame old work horse, quietly hoping that she didn’t want another round. At least, not without a serious warm-up for his sad old joints. 

“Are you okay, papi?” She was back sooner than he expected, and he jolted in a panic to avoid her noticing, obviously making the pain worse. “Is your back hurting?”

“Uh, a little,” he said awkwardly, trying to avoid eye contact as she urgently clambered onto the bed and knelt behind him, “happens sometimes when I haven’t done my stretches.”

“That’s so sexy,” she murmured, draping her arms around his shoulders.

“What?” he replied with a frown. Was she crazy? 

“I wasn’t kidding when I said I was into older guys, guapo. I meant it.” She leaned closer to plant a soft kiss against the side of his head, bringing her hands up to rub at his shoulders. “Lemme look after you. Maybe I could give you a massage?”

“Uh, yeah, I mean, that’d be, yeah.” Stuttering idiot. Her hands were firm, pressing into muscle to the point of perfect painful relief. Fuck, she wanted another round. It’s not that he didn’t, her tits were touching his bare back, of course he wanted her again. He just wasn’t sure he’d survive it.

“Don’t get too excited though. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I’m way too sore to do anything else today.” She sounded adorably sheepish. His heart was so full.

“Nothing to be embarrassed about,” he said with a smile, grabbing her hand and kissing it. It was like she could read his mind. The clear confirmation was a relief, and he let himself relax and enjoy her affections, even if it had his mind racing with ideas for another time.

They weren’t up for long before Joss was calling, asking River to come and watch Randy in the hospital for a while with the twins. He didn’t want to go, but V made him. She was serious about him being there for his family, and if that meant she went with him to the hospital downtown then so be it.

The journey there was awful. Breaking news of the Night City Vampire was on every screen they passed, poorly-pixelated bodycam footage making V’s stomach churn. She tried not to look, but she knew she’d fail; she was trying to avoid holos in Night fucking City of all places. Even just getting the elevator to the parking lot was overwhelming. River always kept within easy reach of her, often propping his arm around her like he could shield her from the world around them, at least a little bit.

When they reached the hospital, V was swallowing back bile in her efforts to calm herself. River held her tightly in the elevator and she was grateful to only hear the muffled sound of her heartbeat from inside the safety of his coat. They were outside the door to Randy’s room when River turned to her with a mischievous look on his face, seeming like he was trying to cheer her up.

“I should warn you, Randy totally has a crush on you.”

“What? How does he even remember me?” she said with a huff, smiling despite herself.

“I mean, how could he forget meeting someone like you?” River replied with a grin and a shrug. V felt her own smile growing, egging him on. “He told me when he first came around from his anaesthetic that he wanted me to give him your contact so he could ask you out. Said you had nice hair, a pretty mouth…some other pleasing assets.”

“Wow, well I guess you’d better up your game, detective, since there’s competition on the scene.” She was doing her best to hold in laughter.

“He wishes,” River replied with an eye roll, shouldering his way into his nephew’s room before V could tease him any further. “Hey guys, how we doin’?”

“Uncle River!” An adorable little girl ditched the book she was holding to run over to him, hugging his leg before he squatted down to her height.

“Hey, Monique! I have someone I want you to meet, this is my friend V, she helped me find Randy.” He angled himself so Monique could get a good look at her and V made sure to smile in as friendly and un-scary way as possible. It must have paid off since the kid beamed at her like she was a rockstar. 

“Hi Monique!”

Monique went quiet, clearly getting shy and pushing herself into the fur of River’s coat collar. The little boy in the room took the opportunity to wander over, seeming more confident than his sister.

“I’m Dorian,” he announced proudly, shifting his weight around and staring up at V, totally unabashed.

“Hello Dorian, I’m V.” She offered her hand out to him, but he was already turning away, walking back towards the window to stare out at the cityscape.

“I know,” he said, “Randy told me. He said he was gonna kiss you.”

“Oh he did, did he?” V laughed, looking up to see the teen was still asleep - probably for the best, the poor kid. Joss was smiling sympathetically at her, already getting up from her chair at Randy’s bedside and grabbing her purse.

“Hi, V. I’m so sorry. About him, and Randy, and calling you down here. I’m sorry.” She was brushing a hand through her hair, looking like the most stressed mother in the world.

“It’s fine, honestly, I’m happy to be here. I’m just so glad Randy’s okay.”

“Thanks to you.” Joss approached her, looking unsure of herself for a moment, before grabbing V’s arms in her own and pulling her in for a hug. “Oh, c’mere. Thank you so much, V. I owe you so much.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Joss, really.” Joss squeezed her for one moment before releasing her, clearly feeling as awkward about the whole thing as V did. Instead, she moved on to River, giving him an equally quick hug before patting Monique on the head on her way out.

“Thank you both so much,” she called out behind her, “I’ll try to be quick, I’ll call you when I’m on my way back!”

V looked to River for some kind of comfort and felt immediate relief when he smiled at her, wide and easy and enough to have her relaxing. She walked over to sit on the other side of Monique, who was now back to the stack of books she’d been holding when they walked in.

“Wow, look at these books!” V smiled at her, hoping she got a ‘cool grownup’ vibe from her. Monique smiled back brightly and V was so relieved she wanted to hug her. Maybe this stuff wasn’t so hard.

“They’re from the orphanage,” River explained, looking sheepish, “older than I am and pretty outdated. But it’s important to Joss that they read real books.”

“Reading anything good?” V asked, glancing at the raggedy textbook she was flicking through. The spine was frayed and the colors looked faded as hell, but the little girl was clearly proud of it.

“This book is about the animals of Asia.” Monique’s wide smile made V’s heart hurt; she was adorable. “I’m reading about gaurs!”

River and V shared a look. She felt goosebumps down the back of her neck and a bolt of ice down her spine. Monique was still looking at her, clearly expecting some kind of feedback.

“What’s a gaur?” she asked, shuffling closer so Monique could show her the page in the book. Looked like a gaur was a really fat, muscly cow - which seemed appropriate.

“It’s the largest species of wild cattle in India,” she provided, still beaming, “it has a distinct ridge down its back and a dewlap on its throat - that’s like a funny dangly skin flap.”

“I see.” V glanced between River and the textbook, angling it slightly towards him so he could look at the images. He scoffed at the sight, nodding in agreement; the fat square of beef was a perfect representation of that piece of shit. Poor things were probably all extinct now, V thought. At least all except the bastard from Atlanta. Speaking of.. “So, tell me, Monique, what eats gaur?”

“Tigers!” Monique grinned. There was a pause when River and V shared another look. 

“Or tigresses,” River added with a small smile on his face. V nodded, excusing herself for a moment to grab some water. At the door, she looked over to River asking Monique more questions about her textbook, leaning over further to point excitedly at the pictures with her. They both looked so happy. V left the room.

Her heart raced as her stomach dropped. Her pace quickened through the hospital corridors. It was like fate, hearing those words from that sweet kid. She could do this. And she should do it alone. Nobody else had to get hurt. She couldn’t risk taking that man away from his family. She would make up an excuse to tell him and be at Akuma before he could stop her.

When she got back to the room, Randy was awake. River stood by his bedside, Dorian clambering up his back in an effort to get onto his shoulders. She was making the right decision. She smiled at the teen, a relief she hadn’t had for too long coursing through her at the sight of him looking so well.

“Randy!” She pulled him in for a hug as soon as she was close enough, feeling him tense in her arms. “I’m so happy to see you! How are you? You feeling okay?”

His face was so flushed, V wanted to squeeze him - he was so cute. Seeing healthy color in his face lifted her mood so much she couldn’t resist toying with him a little. “You remember me, right? Your uncle told me you did.”

“Uh, yeah, I do. It’s V, right?”

“That’s right! I’m so glad you’re doing okay.” Her cheeks almost hurt from grinning so wide and she wondered if she might cry, though whether it was from her relief over Randy or her anxiety over Misty she couldn’t tell.

“Y-yeah. Yeah, thank you for everything, V. I owe you my life,” he replied, glancing between her and River, still looking unsure of himself.

“You don’t owe me anything, Randy. I can’t imagine what you’ve been through, but just know that I’m here if you need me.” She held his hand with a gentle squeeze, doing her best impression of someone reassuring. Randy squeezed back, and when she looked in his eyes she could see his confidence rising to potentially dangerous, teen-thinks-you’re-flirting-with-him levels. She made a point of looking to River and adding: “We all are.”

“That’s right,” River said, propping a firm hand on Randy’s shoulder and giving him a little jostle, “right here, bud.”

V was still smiling, but something else must have been showing on her face. River dropped Dorian on his big brother and ushered her over to the corner of the room. “Hey,” he said gently, “are you okay?”

“I’m fine, really. I just got a call from Mama Welles, she wants to see me. It’s about Misty.”

“Shit, okay. I’ll call Joss.” V put her hand on his arm to stop him, already trying to get his phone out.

“Don’t. I’m serious, River, you need to stay here.” She moved closer to him, lowering her tone. “These kids need you to be here. Randy needs you. After what’s happened to him, what’s been done to him, he needs to be able to talk to you. Without his mother around, without me around. I’ll be fine.”

River glanced over his shoulder at his nephews, currently play-wrestling on the hospital bed. He looked nervous. “What if he doesn’t talk to me? What should I say to him?”

“You don’t have to say anything. Just be there.” She laid her palm flat on his chest. “Trust me. It’ll make all the difference. I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied quietly. He grabbed her hand and kissed it, speaking barely above a whisper. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she beamed. She was doing the right thing. She left the room, taking a moment to look back and watch River return to his family. She was doing the right thing. If everything went right, she’d get Misty out safe and be back with him before he figured anything out. If things didn’t go so well, she’d at least get Misty out safe. She was doing the right thing.

V tried her best to keep her ears closed for the duration of the metro ride across town. Gillean Jordan’s face was everywhere, telling her in grotesque detail about how the unlucky women found abandoned across Night City had had their blood drained. How the Vampire of Night City was on the prowl, and every darkened corner could be an opportunity, like the people in this city needed more reasons to be paranoid.

Ten minutes of that was more than she could take, and V had to turn in toward herself for any degree of comfort. She needed to remember why she was doing this. The image of Randy, breathing and smiling and blushing and living played in her mind. River by his side, unsure but ready to support him through whatever comes next.

The image of Misty, shuffling tarot cards and smoking cigarillos at Mama’s and reminiscing about Jackie. V was going to save her. They were going to drink and smoke and eat fresh sopapillas together again. It was all going to be okay.

She closed her eyes, focusing on her breathing as the metro rattled around its tracks through Watson. She could do this. She was going to be alright. Everything was going to be alright.

‘Yeah right.’ Johnny’s voice shook her out of her thoughts and V opened her eyes to see him sitting opposite her. The glitching blue lines she was used to seeing around him weren’t there, and he looked more real than ever. She wondered if she’d see his reflection if she turned around to the window behind her. ‘What are you doing, kid?’

‘What do you mean, what am I doing? I’m saving Misty’s life.’ The palpitations were starting up. The last time they were heavy like this was on the roof with Goro.

‘You’re walking into a disaster waiting to happen. You’re weak, V.’ He pulled his aviators off, folding them up and tucking them in the front of his vest. The disappointed paternal look on his face was enough to have her grimacing.

‘Misty needs me.’

‘She needs you to be alive,’ he interrupted, pointing a metal digit at her in accusation, ‘what the fuck is this suicide mission bullshit?’

‘You know what it is, Johnny!’ V had to keel over and hold her head, eyes squeezed shut again. Everything was fizzing, buzzing. Like the flies at the farm. ‘I have to save her. I have to.’

‘You don’t have to do it alone!’ He must have stood up, his voice was so close to her. All around her. Buzzing. ‘So why are you doing this?!’

“I don’t wanna lose them!” V snapped, looking up at him, her jaw so tight she thought she’d crack a tooth. If she’d had the wherewithal to look around her, she’d have seen that people were staring. Crazy Lady Yells At Empty Space On Metro was hardly breaking news in Night City, but entertainment is entertainment. “I am sick of losing people! Over and over! Jackie, Scorpion, all those girls in Atlanta! I can’t lose anyone else.”

‘So instead they all get to lose you?’ She was crying now, she could tell. Crazy Lady Cries On Metro was also pretty run-of-the-mill. Johnny sat beside her, seeming as exhausted as she felt. He put his arm around her and she felt it. Heavy, warm, comforting on her shoulder. The metro gently jostled them as they snaked to a stop in the city center. ‘C’mon, kid. This is our stop.’

They were walking down the street, toward Akuma, when Johnny spoke again.

‘It’s not too late to stop. Just stop right here and call up the cop. Or Regina Jones, she could send you some backup at least.’ V didn’t respond right away, too focused on putting one foot in front of the other, too focused on ignoring the buzzing.

‘Sorry, Johnny.’ Her voice sounded distant even to herself, like she was walking away from her mind down some long, unending corridor. The buzzing was getting louder. Johnny sped up to walk ahead of her, turning to face her with his palms out like she was some feral animal he was wanting to tame.

‘I’m serious, V. Stop it. This is your last warning.’ She walked right through him, expecting him to disappear. But the instant her body touched his, the buzzing wiped out everything else. 

And then Johnny was in charge. 

He looked down and saw her hands, her expensive long nails and gorilla arm mods. He looked further and saw she’d stopped walking. He lifted her foot, placed it back down, turned her around. Then he stopped to see if there would be any resistance from her body. She didn’t move. Good.

River couldn’t help checking his phone every five minutes. It’s not like he asked V to keep him updated, but it still had him spiralling that he hadn’t heard a word from her since she left. He decided to branch out first, sending a feeler out; he was being a supportive partner, letting her know he was here to help.

He put his phone away and brought his mind back into the room, telling himself to take his mind off it for now. The twins were sharing a textbook (miraculous), taking turns to impersonate the different animals on the page. Randy’s eyes were closed, but he was clearly still awake, tapping out a soft rhythm against his chest.

“How’s the fatigue?” River asked, taking a seat next to Randy’s bed, trying not to look too analytical. Randy’s eyes opened, seeming to consider him for a moment before answering.

“It’s rough. Sometimes I’m waking up and thinking everything’s normal, and then I remember where I am. And then I’m tired again. Guess I just keep waiting for it to be over.” He picked at his fingertips as he spoke, shutting out the rest of the room. River wanted to grab him and tell him it was over. It was all over and nobody was going to hurt him ever again. He remembered what V told him; he didn’t have to say anything. Probably not what the kid needed to hear right now anyway. From where we stood it was probably far from over. Instead, he reached out and held Randy’s hand in his own, prompting the teen to look at him. “What’s happened to him? To Tony.”

“You wanna know? You sure?” He waited until Randy gave him a confident nod. “He got caught on a routine stop with a boy bound and gagged in his car. Tried to flee the scene, got shot in the head. He’s in a coma, total vegetable.”

“So he’s alive?” Randy’s hands tightened, his jaw clenching. River brought his other hand to cover the hold they had, rubbing at the back of the teen’s hand.

“Only by the strictest legal definition.” He adjusted in his seat, shuffling closer to his nephew and speaking quietly. “Trust me, Randy, it’s not worth what you’re thinking about.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking about?” he replied, squinting and giving River a look that every teenager knows how to make.

“You think I haven’t thought about it?” Randy looked surprised, and River felt the need to press on, only sparing a brief glance at the twins to make sure they weren’t listening. “You think I didn’t want to end the life of the motherfucker who hurt my family? I broke into the room they’re keeping him in, pointed my gun at his head. I almost did it, too.”

They were quiet for a few moments until Randy seemed to know what he wanted to say.

“Why didn’t you?” It was hard to tell if he was bitter or just upset. Either way, River tried his best to be fair to the kid.

“Has your mom ever told you about the night our parents died?” 

“They were shot.” Randy started looking back at his hands again, clearly uncomfortable. Normally, River would want to make him engage more, make him keep looking or something. But he knew better at this moment. 

“That’s right. The gonks that did it put a gun in my hand and told me to do it. When I didn’t, they took it from me, beat my ass, and did it themselves anyway. When I stood in Horváth’s room, pointing my gun at him, I felt like I did that night. I just knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. He’s gone, Randy. He’s not coming back.”

They were quiet a lot longer after that. River kept their hands intertwined, turning to watch Dorian and Monique continuing to play. He didn’t want to keep staring at Randy, even though he was desperate to know what he was thinking. Desperate to know he was okay. Still, he couldn’t imagine being on the receiving end of that story, after everything Randy had been through, and having your lame uncle staring at you like an asshole.

“I didn’t know that part,” Randy said meekly, “about them making you do that, hurting you.”

“It’s how I lost my eye. They smashed my face in with a bottle.”

“I thought you lost your eye in a motorcycle accident?” he said with a furrowed brow. River laughed, remembering that particular story.

“That’s just something your mom made up to get you to stop riding it with me,” River replied. His heart felt a little lighter at the sight of Randy smiling and laughing with him.

“I can’t believe her!” Randy stopped laughing to let out a yawn he’d clearly been fighting. River released his hands, patting them one final time before leaning back in his chair.

“Get some rest. Your mom will be back when you wake up again, you can take it up with her.” 

“Thank you, uncle River,” Randy began, sitting up a little straighter to look him in the eyes, “for telling me that. For trusting me. And also thanks for not being weird about V. Mom said I said some embarrassing shit about her, thanks for not bringing it up.”

“Don’t mention it.” River was caught somewhere between wanting to laugh at his poor nephew’s embarrassment and wanting to hug him for being so mature. He decided it was kindest not to tell him that he’d definitely told V about some of it. His phone buzzed in his pocket and he forced himself not to flail too desperately pulling it out. Finally, some kind of response from V.

Except it wasn’t from V.

He tried to tell himself it wasn’t a big deal. Probably nothing, maybe V just needed to be picked up. But then wouldn’t she just call him? Maybe her phone broke. Would explain why she never responded to his text. He excused himself from the room and called the unknown number, pacing a small circle at the doorway.

“Who is this?” He recognized her voice immediately, that familiar musical rhythm that was so similar to V’s.

“It’s River Ward, Mrs Welles, you texted me?”

“Mama Welles, please, mijo. Is V with you?”

“No, isn’t she with you? She said you told her to come over.” His heart was already pounding. What the hell was going on?

“I tried calling her to see how she’s feeling today but it didn’t go through. I think her phone is off. This is what I was afraid of; I think she’s done something stupid. Alone. Can you come to Regina Jones’ place? We’re planning our move on Akuma. If V is there already we need to prepare.”

“Yeah, yeah of course. I’ll be there as soon as possible. Thank you, Mama, for calling me.” 

“Of course, mijo, you’re family now.” Her response triggered a warm feeling in his chest and the line ended before he could respond. Scrolling through his contacts with shaky hands, he found his sister’s number and dialled straight away.

“Hi Joss, I’m so sorry but I gotta call you back. It’s V, I think she’s gone after her missing friend on her own. I gotta help her. How soon can you be back?” He could already feel the clock ticking against him, every second was one he might never get back with V. He had to hurry.

Johnny took a few steps in V’s shoes, reminding himself how it feels to be in control. The last time he did this she was also trying some stupid shit. He had to wonder how she’d even made it this far in life with these renegade solo ideas. Didn’t she realize what she was throwing away? Then again, maybe it was his influence over her making her so reckless. Shit.

Once he was confident that there was no trace of her in control, he thought about what the fuck he should do now.

His first thought was to go back to the hospital, but he figured the badge would be onto them by now. Pulling her phone from her pocket, he saw a message from that lovesick fuck that had come in more than fifteen minutes ago. Surely he was already spiralling from her total lack of response.

A bunch of missed calls from Mama Welles and the ripperdoc as well. She must have set it to some do not disturb mode before she left the hospital. So basically an entire fucking search party would be out for them soon. Fuck’s sake. He would say that the poor cop must be tearing his hair out, if the bastard had any to begin with.

Johnny got a brainwave, opening the tracker app V used to follow that bloodhound after their first date at Fantaji. He could meet up with the cop wherever he was and then relinquish control once he knew V was safe again. Sure, she’d be mad at him, but she’d forgive him when she saw the relief in her beau’s face at the sight of her alive and well.

They could still save the witch without fucking dying in the process. Or at least Johnny wasn’t about to die for her. So, tracker it is. The flashing dot on the tracker suggested the cop was downtown; Johnny knew he couldn’t get there soon enough.

After he got oriented with where he was going, it was clear the tracker was taking them towards an NCPD station. He guessed he shouldn’t be surprised. Sure, the badge was resigning, but there might be more red tape involved there. Or maybe he was hoping to use any connections he had there to try to track V down. Or, he was a lying sack of shit and he never actually planned on resigning. Not likely, but Johnny enjoyed throwing the idea around in his mind like a cat with a mouse.

Following the tracker, he rounded the corner to the parking lot. It was hard to tell if Mack was in the lot somewhere, crowded as it was, so Johnny started walking the aisles, checking the spaces. The tracker suggested he was somewhere near the back, but still no truck that Johnny recognized. This badge was about to get an earful for making her walk around this lot like a fucking lost tourist, though he knew V would probably just go all gooey and useless once she saw him again.

Once he was as close as it seemed like was possible on the tracker, Johnny assessed what the fuck he was looking at. A Mizutani Shion - already a shitty car, in his opinion - but not just that. Some hideous purple color he’d never seen, paired with a sickly green tint on all the windows that was too thick to see anything through. What the fuck was this shit?

Before he could think anything else about it, a hand was over his mouth, grip tight and immovable. V’s arms still felt slow in his control, she really was too weak to be doing this. He was pulled sharply backwards, a larger body crowding around him and a disgustingly familiar voice in his ear.

“Hola, chica.” Fucking Phelps. “I knew you’d come crawling back to me, little lady.” And then he felt a heavy impact to his head and everything went black.

River was starting to get sick of spending any amount of time in Regina Jones’ apartment. The place was busier than he’d ever seen it, it seemed like everybody V had ever mentioned was here planning. Mama Welles had been the one to let him in, pulling him in for a tight motherly hug that helped stop his racing mind for at least a moment. 

Viktor Vektor was going through scans all visible on the conference table in the centre of the space, making notes all over the place. Panam Palmer and several Aldecaldos were surrounding Regina, pointing to the wall of screens in front of them and talking amongst themselves.

What looked like an endless stream of worker ant interns weaved around, bringing every bite of data they found to the legendary fixer. The screens seemed to show a mix of police bodycam footage, security footage, and aerial maps of Corpo Plaza. Panam snapped River out of his overwhelmed state, turning away from her posse to speak to him.

“Good to see you, brother. What time did V leave the hospital?” she asked. He was grateful to be straight to business, it reminded him of the part of his job he was always best at: analysis and action. He pulled his phone up to check the time he first sent her a text.

“I messaged her around fifteen minutes after she left, so she must have gone around one-thirty.”

“Okay, so that gives us about ninety minutes for her to get herself good and dead,” Panam replied, scoffing to herself before she saw River’s stony expression, “sorry, just trying to make myself feel better.”

“Strange way of doing that.” In one shared look, they established an understanding that this conversation would quickly become a waste of time. Instead, Panam turned back to Regina, standing at an angle that included River in the conversation. 

“So, Saul’s committed us to helping any way we can, to free V and Misty and anyone else still holed up at Akuma. We’ve got an overview of the blocks surrounding the club, we can split into groups and I can command from here with your cams if that’s alright?”

“That’s good,” Regina replied, “we know V’s probably trying to move in on Akuma, and we’re gonna do everything we can to help her. Vik’s checking out the victim scans I’ve accessed so he and Mama Welles can prep his shop for Misty as soon as we extract her.”

A rhythmic rap-tap-tap on the door interrupted Regina’s outline and she nodded at River to open it. Part of him couldn’t help but think of how great it would be if V was on the other side of that door. That famous la tigresa grin on her face and a broken phone in her hand. The sweet relief that would give him. He reached for the door handle and took a breath to brace himself before pulling it open in a big, optimistic swing.

“Hey, superman!” Tiny fucking Mike. Of course, somehow this was the person with the cheerful knock-knock at a time like this. Didn’t he know what was at stake here? “Boy are you gonna love me.”

“Tiny,” Regina called, prompting River to step aside and let the merc into the apartment, “whaddya got for me?”

“Well, I told V some time ago I’d put some pressure on Wakko to give me any deats she knew about the warehouse job I did for her that looked like a knock-off of the Akuma douchebags’ work, right? But she was being so shady about it, literally wouldn’t tell me shit and kept telling me to shut up and do my job, so I’m like, what’s that about?”

“Cut to the chase, Tiny.” River wanted to worship at Regina Jones’ feet for her directness at that moment.

“Right, so I hacked her-”

“You hacked Wakako Okada? Are you crazy?” Regina asked, genuine concern on her face. River had never met Wakako Okada, but he’d heard stories. Enough stories that he was also wondering if Tiny was crazy.

“Obviously! She was being avoidant, and besides, V would have done it for me.” River cleared his throat to keep from tearing up at Tiny’s words; he was right about V, and his transparent loyalty to her was heartwarming - whatever else had gone on between them aside. “So, anyway, I hacked her and you’ll never guess what. This Haru kid is her kid. The ninth of nine sons. His dad is some dead corpo suit who left him a bunch of properties in his will - like basically just giving the kid some shit to do with his time since he was never inheriting shit from his mommy and daddy. Well, I only went and scraped the updated Akuma blueprints through the stiff’s will, you’re welcome!”

“Wow, Tiny, good work.” Regina’s screens lit up with the blueprints, detailed and updated with all the changes Gaur and Ichabod had made since they came to Night City. “This is perfect. Ward, come get a closer look at this.”

River walked around the conference table to get closer to the screens. At a glance, it was like a typical club: a dancefloor, dj booth, bar, storage. But in the layers of the blueprint, the workings of something else became clear.

“Tell me, detective, what does that look like to you?” Regina asked.

“Looks like a drug lab,” River replied, turning to Panam to add, “I’d bet money that’s where they kept Tama when they had her.”

“Then that’s where I’ll cut their dicks off,” Panam said through gritted teeth.

“Easy, Palmer,” Regina interjected, “I want any of them we can get alive and well. The Vampires of Night City deserve to see all the sights our glittering prison system has to offer, dontcha think?”

“Depends on what they’ve done to V,” Panam replied.

“I’m with her,” River agreed, blood already boiling in his veins. “I think V should choose what happens to them once we get her out of there.”

“Not very law-abiding of you, detective.” Regina raised one eyebrow at River and he felt that same raw feeling she seemed expertly able to bring out in him, like she could see through him down to his fibers and tendons.

“I’ve left the force,” he supplied with an attempt at a casual shrug that Regina blatantly didn’t buy. Panam smirked. He felt like he was under a microscope, surrounded by powerful and hopefully benevolent scientists.

“Wonder what brought that on,” Panam joked, “the influence of a certain cat-eyed merc, perchance?” He was starting to squirm in his petri dish.

“Realized the change I wanna make isn’t possible from inside the NCPD. Figured it’s time to try something new.” He felt like every person in the room had stopped what they were doing to analyze him, despite the ongoing flurry in all corners.

“Well, that is a surprise,” Regina said, “I have to say I’m impressed, Ward. Glad V had this type of influence on you. I still want your insight as a detective as far as the best approach for this infiltration though.”

It was such a relief to have their focus back on the task at hand. River looked at the lab in detail. Only one entrance, down a flight of stairs at the heart of the building. “Gonna need a small group for the actual break-in - no sense getting clogged in the door of the lab to get picked off. Odds are they don’t have extensive security as far as bodies, never even seen more than one bouncer on the door during business hours. Looking at the rest of the building though, there’s a lot of potential exits. It’d be best to have some back-up outside, in case any of them try to flee.”

“We can provide cover for a block radius in three groups?” Panam suggested, gesturing to the Aldecaldos around her. River nodded, assessing their numbers and guesstimating an idea of their capability.

“Yeah, that would work. You know who you’d be looking for?”

“Regina’s shared everything she has,” Panam replied with a determined tone that gave River confidence, “we’re ready.”

“Okay,” Regina said loudly, casting her commanding eye over all of them in turn, “Ward, you and Tiny are gonna infiltrate Akuma. I’ll be commanding from here, using the blueprints and Tiny’s comms to keep you updated. Vik and Mama Welles, you two get over to Vik’s shop and get everything ready for when Misty’s coming your way. V too if she’s injured. The Aldecaldos will provide backup in quadrants surrounding the club, led by Panam. Everybody clear?”

“Fuck yeah!” Tiny Mike exclaimed, clapping River on the shoulder like they were brothers in arms. “C’mon, superman, let’s go get these girls!”

River had no idea what to say in the face of Mike’s bravado, but he at least felt good about the organization and structure, something comforting and familiar to a cop in times of strife. On his way to Mack’s driver’s side, he tried to picture V. Hopefully she hadn’t made it to Akuma yet, though he knew that wasn’t likely. La tigresa wasn’t going to wait for a better chance. So, he tried to picture her in Akuma. Tried to picture her safe there. An impossible task. Hold on, V, I’m coming.