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Although V was only sixteen upon enlisting, he was a Nomad, which meant no formal paperwork, which meant they had to take his word for being eighteen. And while he was short, he looked old enough to pass with his broad shoulders and the bit of stubble he’d manage to cultivate.
By then, the Unification War was in full swing, and the recruiters weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. And then it was simply off to Basic for a month of condensed conditioning.
When he arrived at the base’s entrance, with the twelve other recruits meant to train with him, his CO took one look at him and basically threw him at a panzer. V was both grateful and resentful of his height at that moment.
He was partnered with a kid a little older named Oberon, which he would later sigh to V and complain, “My parents were big fans of Shakespeare,” as if V knew who that was.
His month in Basic saw him getting proper neural hardware and getting used to what sharing a mind with someone else while simultaneously being expected to pilot a panzer was like. And while V was fairly close with most of his squad, as they were charged with covering his ass, he always felt closer to Oberon, likely due to sharing a neural interface.
So when they were shipped out to SoCal with a few other squads graduating with him, he felt ready for anything, strong enough to take down the world. His time in Basic with Oberon saw him regaining the naivety he thought he’d lost growing up around his uncle. He’d later wish he had retained his pessimism.
What Basic didn’t prepare V for was the drug cocktails shoved into his dirt-crusted hands and the adrenaline that always made him feel nauseous. And while the drugs were later banned, that didn’t stop his CO’s from using up the surplus on their troops.
The comedown from V’s first battle had him shaking so hard that when he threw up all he could do was shiver, with Oberon patting his back with similarly shaking hands.
From there on, the drugs did their job and after each battle he’d just go to his cot and shake until his next dose in the morning. What the drugs didn’t manage to stop was his burgeoning feelings toward his co-pilot, Oberon.
Later, on one of their rare leaves, they’d gotten spectacularly drunk on cheap liquor and all of a sudden, V just couldn’t stop himself anymore. He’d leaned forward and kissed Oberon, tasting the awful tequila they’d been sharing. Surprised at himself for his actions, he was only more surprised when Oberon suddenly gripped the wrist holding his cheek and kissed V back as fiercely as he could.
When they finally pulled away from each other, Oberon had a pleased, slightly smug smile while V sat there dazed. “Been waitin’ for you to grow the balls to make a move,” the other man mused. V glared halfheartedly before grabbing Oberon’s shirt and tugging him into another kiss.
For a while, things were good. V would dose up, get in the panzer, come back with the shakes, and repress with Oberon by his side. Then, orders came in that they’d be heading to Ridgecrest, California.
Everything changed at Ridgecrest.
It was early morning and they were on the edge of town. V and Oberon’s CO had just told them to dose up, they were about to head out. V had just finished repairs on the panzer the night before, a bit after they’d gotten in.
His mind was focused, head clear and body thrumming with energy, when Oberon pulled him aside before they entered the Panzer.
“I’ve heard talk ‘round camp that this battle is supposed to be a doozy,” he started, causing V to frown. “I just,” Oberon exhaled, frustrated. “Don’t take any unnecessary risks, alright? We’re manning the same machine an’ all. And, in case everything goes to shit, I love you.” And while V stood there, too surprised to say anything, Oberon gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek and climbed inside the panzer.
Later, V would wish he’d said it back.
V and Oberon were part of the first charge, alongside a few other panzers meant to clear up space and take out enemy defenses. To say it went badly would put it lightly. As V took up the guns, it looked as if the entire enemy army had shown up. But he heeded Oberon’s words. He kept them on the flanks, mostly assisting the foot soldiers when they got overrun. Occasionally, Oberon would call out a diagnostic error and he’d park the motherfucker and set whatever wire slipped loose right.
It was evening, casualties were high, and the drugs were starting to wear off. His vision would flicker and dim, and his hands were shaking on the manual controls, which were thankfully not on.
They were the only panzer not side-lined, and the increasing amount of WARNING messages were getting harder to ignore.
“We’re almost burnt out, V! We’re gonna have to pull out soon!” Oberon yelled, the sound of crunching metal and the fizzing of exposed wires nearly drowned him out. V gritted his teeth, but knew Oberon was right.
He was about to agree and turn around when everything exploded. V felt a shock of electricity run from the panzer into his neural port and felt it jutter down his body, then came the burning, screaming pain. The panzer was grounded, interface dead, and V could hardly move his arms or turn his head, bolts of agony arcing down his spine.
Finally, he realized he hadn’t heard anything from Oberon. “Oberon?” V choked out, mouth bloody from biting his tongue during the shock. No answer came. He finally managed to turn his head and nearly gagged at the sight. Oberon was slumped forward, the entire back of his neck where his neural port was had been blown off, leaving behind only bits of exposed spine and tissue barely managing to keep the head on its shoulders from rolling right off.
V wanted to look away. He wanted to look away so fucking bad, but it was like his body was frozen. Suddenly, he could feel each and every pain individually. Could feel where his legs had been pinned against the crushed controls, the throbbing of the breaks in them. Could feel the electricity still coming from the fucked jack zipping along his spine like it was pleased to be there. Could feel the burning, agonizing, overwhelming amount of pain encompassing his arms.
Finally, he managed to look away, to his arms to see why they wouldn’t cooperate, and saw them practically burned to a crisp where the diagnostics board on Oberon’s side had arced over and zapped him. The only thing that saved him was the rubber on the manual controls he’d been gripping. And, it seemed, the fact that Oberon had been on the side of the initial impact and took the brunt of the damage himself.
V choked on a sob, helpless. He couldn’t move, couldn’t get out, and he could already feel the panzer juddering under several more lesser impacts. He couldn’t breathe. It felt like his lungs were encased in an iron grip and every exhale tightened it like a snake with its prey. He glanced over at Oberon and gasped desperately for air. Another impact shook the panzer and slid it back several feet, and through the haze of terror V came to a decision.
Oberon wouldn’t want V to die here with him, wouldn’t want to be the reason V died. Oberon deserved better.
Another desperate inhale followed by a choked off sob and V managed to muster all his strength to reach behind him with numb fingers and yank the jack out of his damaged port. Then, he bit his lip to the point of bleeding while leaning forward to engage the emergency release. The next moment, his harness was released and the hatch to his seat had popped off.
The sound of the battle flooding his senses all at once was deafening, but his mind was on a mission and he ignored it. He grabbed the edges of the hatch, pulled his elbows out, and used the muscles in his shoulders to try and haul his legs out from where they were pinned. A few blackouts, and a few more concerning cracking noises later, his legs were free, but still useless in aiding his escape.
V… couldn’t quite remember most of what happened later. What did happen was once he got enough of himself out, he leaned over and let gravity take over, blacking out as he plummeted off the side of the panzer and onto the hard-caked dirt below. Someone from another squad would have seen him and had run over to check if V was still alive, soon dragging him to a medic, who then sent him near the back of the front in a makeshift hospital. He’d spend three days there comatose before being shipped back to NorCal to be treated in a proper hospital. That hospital was in Night City.
It was another two weeks before V woke with two metal arms, a new neural port, and steel femurs. The doctors said he had a bit of cybernetic rejection, but his body gradually accepted the new parts and began to heal. They told him he’d be able to leave and heal at home in a few days. They told him he’d been medically discharged. The damage from the panzer caused damage that wouldn’t let him pilot a panzer for extended periods, and that’s all they’d wanted him for.
The doctors tell him that he’s grown four inches above the height listed on his enlistment chart.
He’s discharged with two metal arms, a hole in his chest, and nowhere to go.
Night City was huge, and he hadn’t an enny to his name.
For a while, he chauffeured some bigwigs in a company-rented car while living out of a tent in City Center, grew tired of that scene, and moved to lower Watson where he lived in an abandoned apartment building and gained a minor reputation for being able to fix cars up cheap. He made a name for himself, was making enough to keep nicer clothes and eat better food, and that was enough.
He ignored the nightmares, the smell of burnt flesh that never left his nose, the sneer on his uncle’s face. The trembling hands, the persistent headaches, the never ending longing for the mix of chemicals they fed him in that panzer, even years later. He’d wake up sweating, body trembling for a fix it hadn’t felt in years.
He’d wake up trembling, shakily make a cup of caf, and head to his makeshift garage for another young upstart to try and rob him while he was under a car.
He’d survived, but was he living, was this all worth the effort of sticking around this lousy hole?
Life went on; cars came in, wanna-be-robbers left a few guns lighter, and V woke up trembling.
And then he met Jackie Welles.