Chapter Text
TAKEMURA [03:43 PM]:
V. Do you still wish to continue your mentorship this evening?
“Mother fucker ,” V whispered to herself. She was lying on her bed and had almost escaped into the retreat of a lazy afternoon nap when her phone had pinged. She had spent most of the day pounding down lattes like they were water until her hands and feet were jittering uncontrollably, until the King of Excess living in her head suggested she cut herself off.
“Huh? What’d I do?” Johnny propped himself up on an elbow from where he had been reclining next to her, digital cigarette smoke mingling with shafts of sunshine from the window.
“Not you, for fuckin’ once. I’m supposed to train with Goro tonight, and my brain feels mushier than a Buck-A-Slice left out in the rain.” A still-trembling hand rubbed her eyes with frustration.
“Good. You don’t need to learn from that corpo cunt, anyway.”
“Yeah, I know how you feel, Johnny,” she sighed. Their feelings on the exiled Arasaka bodyguard differed greatly. Johnny couldn’t see past his affiliation; V had been suspicious at first too, but had quickly been swayed by Takemura’s superior analytical mind, his meticulousness, his quiet resolve, and, when he chose to deploy it, his razor-sharp wit and quick tongue. The way his glimmering silver optics studying her made her feel was not relevant. Nope. Not in the slightest.
“Ugh. Fuckin’ nasty, V.” She did not bother to dignify her digital ghost with a response. Goro had agreed to, after a lot of badgering and pleading, to help V gain confidence in more nuanced, close-combat situations, reading rooms and body language, and “other necessary skills you are sorely lacking,” as he had so kindly put it.
V [03:45 PM]:
Definitely. Where this time?
TAKEMURA [03:46 PM]:
Your apartment should be sufficient for our needs.
TAKEMURA [03:46 PM]:
Are you in possession of a basic metal folding chair?
Okay, this is getting a little weird. They had never needed equipment before; hand-to-hand combat didn’t require any beyond…well, hands. They had also always met somewhere far more spacious than her apartment: a parking garage, abandoned lots, basketball courts.
V [03:47 PM]:
I can borrow one from Wilson. Goro, what are we doing?
Wrestling? Gonna teach me to throw the People’s Elbow? : P
TAKEMURA [03:48 PM]:
What is a People’s Elbow? I am unfamiliar with this
school of combat.
V [03:49 PM]:
It’s…you know what, it’s not important.
Anything else special to do?
TAKEMURA [03:50 PM]:
Yes. Do not wear your normal clothing for sparring.
TAKEMURA [03:50 PM]:
Please dress in a manner appropriate for—what is
the phrase— a hot date.
V sat bolt upright in bed. This is definitely weird. “Goro said I needed to dress for a date for training tonight.”
A disgusted scoff sounded from behind her. “ Jesus. You better be takin’ a double dose of those magic fuckin’ pills if you’re gonna let corpo trash tap that beautiful ass, doll.”
“Thank you, but shut it.” She shook her head slightly, trying to clear the red haze that had been pushing at the edges of her vision all day long. Was it hot in here?
V [03:51 PM]:
If I ask you why, are you going to tell me?
TAKEMURA [03:52 PM]:
Certainly not. I will see you at 8 PM sharp.
---
“Nah, wear the other one. I’m tellin’ you he’s a legs man.” V rolled her eyes so hard she thought they might get stuck, but still shimmied out of the low-cut top and leather pants she had put on, pulling the long dress back over her head. It was a far simpler style than what she would normally choose for the “occasion,” but both sides of the skirt were split up to the hip. They made wearing panties a nonstarter. Just the thought of going commando made her skin prickle hotly. She checked her wrists: they were slightly pink and tender, but nothing extreme.
“Johnny, what makes you think you know what Goro likes? You are literally the opposite of each other. Rockerboy, corpo. Asshole, gentleman. Dead, alive.”
“Fuck you. Not really gonna let ‘im poke ya, are you, V?” There wasn’t any anger in his voice, continuing to lean back in the metal chair she had nicked from Wilson earlier that evening. V stuffed all of her discarded options in the bottom of her wardrobe cabinet, sliding the door shut. She was pretty sure dressing her apartment for a hot date included hiding all of her junk, so she shuffled around the apartment straightening piles of screamsheets, straightening her shelves, and tucking away toiletries in the bathroom.
“It’s just the training, Johnny, Christ. He’s not actually going to seduce me. I’m gonna take the pills now.” She rattled two red pills out of the bottle Vik had given her, leaning to slurp some water out of the faucet, but getting caught at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was down, softly waved, but maybe up is better? She pushed some of it up off her neck as she popped the medicine.
“Wear it down,” Johnny suggested by way of a goodbye. “Makes you look more like a chick and less like a murder machine.” The backhanded compliment made her eyebrows furrow, but when she emerged back into the main room, he had disappeared behind the heavy red curtain.
Not a second too soon: 7:59 PM. There was a knock at the door: three precise, sharp raps. V would know who it was even if they didn’t have an appointment.
“Coming!” She shoved one of her feet into the only pair of heels she owned, a pair of black stilettos that she knew would be pinching her toes terribly within 10 minutes. The better to keep focus with, then. She could feel the soft buzzing in the back of her brain held at bay by the blockers.
She was still wiggling one foot in as she slid the door open, a leg hanging out of her dress from the calf downward. “Hey, Goro—”
When she tilted her head up, the way he was looking at her made her breath catch in her throat. His eyes were trained on her leg with the same intensity she had seen him watch enemies with. She straightened slowly and his gaze followed. “V.”
Whatever game was afoot, Goro was already playing, and it was clear he aimed to win.