Chapter Text
You awaken to the feeling of the cool windowpane pressed against your face, and a dull ache settling somewhere behind your eyes. Sleeping in the car, amazingly, still sucks.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” your sister coos from the driver’s seat. “Want to stop for breakfast?”
You blink slowly, taking in the rosy light of dawn starting to stretch its way over the desert. You’d left home in the dead of night, but only now, only here under the open sky does it start to feel like you’re finally free. “Yeah,” you croak. “Food sounds good.”
“Good. Means you can take over for me.” She drops a bottle in your lap with an exaggerated groan. “My legs may never move again.”
“Don’t worry, I think we’ve got an oil can in the truck bed you can use on your joints.” The water soothes the scratch in your throat, but does nothing for the anxiety starting to gnaw on your insides. “You sure we weren’t tailed?”
“V, relax. If they didn’t catch up in the past six hours, they’re not going to find us. We’ll deal with them when we get back.” Leaning forward, she frowns at the only sign of civilization dotting the horizon, that being a group of squat buildings with a tall half-lit sign advertising gas prices. “Besides, what’s the worst they can do? Ground you?”
You manage a weak chuckle as she pulls off at the exit. Even out here, there’s no outrunning your fate.
Breakfast turns out to be a hole-in-the-wall diner attached to the gas station, where the only other occupants are a half-asleep trucker and a woman in heavy glam makeup peering over a roadmap. You hear what sounds like an argument outside, which doesn’t help your headache as you force down the last dregs of the coffee.
“I think we’ve got three more days ahead of us, counting today. Maybe two if we’re lucky, but I don’t want to push the truck beyond her limits.” Your sister folds up her own map with a sigh. “Getting back will be another story. But I think by then we’ll be able to take our time.”
You nod, worrying the edge of your thumb over the truck’s key. “Panam, I…”
“You don’t have to say it.” She smiles, and there’s a surprising gentleness to her tone. She takes your hand and gives it an affectionate squeeze. “I know you want to, and I know you mean it. But save it until we get there, ‘kay? I’m doing this because it’s what you deserve, and because I want as much time with you as I can get.”
“A-alright.” You can’t manage much more than that, lest you risk crying like a total weirdo in the middle of the diner this early in the morning. Panam is one of very few people you feel you can be completely yourself around, which makes this trip even more meaningful.
The argument outside gets louder, and the woman in makeup gives a disgusted snort and storms out of the room, her boots clicking on the polished floors. You and your sister exchange bemused looks.
As you’re mentally preparing yourself for the long day of driving, you spot the woman again in the lot, a cigarette between her fingers, leaning against a large black van parked around the corner. Curiosity gets the better of you, and you poke your head around to see that the van has its hood up. A man with oddly styled hair is leaning over the engine, looking very lost. “Any luck?” he calls out.
The van splutters, trying desperately to turn over, but nothing happens. Someone in the driver’s seat swears loudly. The woman rolls her eyes and stomps out her smoke with her boot. “I guess I’m finding a payphone.”
“Want me to take a look?” The words are out of your mouth before you can think. Panam raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything to stop you as three heads swivel in your direction. “Sounds like you might have a battery issue.”
The man blinks at you for a moment, but doesn’t hesitate in stepping aside. “Be my guest.”
It doesn’t take long to find the problem - sure enough, the connection cable is almost completely hanging off, but you’re able to reattach it without much issue. You can’t see much of the driver through the tinted windshield, but they seem to be watching you intently. “Try it now!”
The engine turns over without complaint this time, purring as if nothing was wrong. The man next to you cheers and claps you enthusiastically on the shoulder. “You’re a lifesaver, kid!” he crows. “Please tell me you’re heading our way, I don’t want this happening again at our next stop.”
“Keep your pants on, Kerry. We’re not famous enough to have a mechanic on call just yet.” The driver’s side door opens, and out steps a taller man in a dark vest and aviator sunglasses, his brow a hard set line of sternness in the morning sunlight. He’s at once the most intriguing and the most intimidating person you’ve probably ever seen. “What I think my comrade means to say is thank you.” His voice is warm and smooth, and just as much an enigma as the rest of him. “Anything else we should be concerned about, Mister…?”
You have to give yourself an extra second to process what he’s asking. Mostly because you think you might be staring at him a bit too much. “It’s – V, just V. I’m V.” Wow, smooth. You smile awkwardly. “And no, you guys should be fine. That cable will hold for a while.”
Kerry, seemingly unfazed by his friend’s quips, beams brightly. “Well hey, if you’re heading out to L.A., you should come see us play! It would be great to see a familiar face in the crowd, and we could always use the turnout.”
Before you can make excuses or ask any further questions, Panam chimes in. “As it happens, we are heading that way. You guys a band or something?”
If at all possible, Kerry lights up even more, and rattles off details about names and locations faster than you can process them. You nod when appropriate, promise to try to make it to at least one of their shows, and meekly start heading back to your truck.
You’re stopped for just a moment by that voice again. “Thanks again, V. See you down the road.”
You turn just in time to catch the corner of the man’s mouth tipped in a smile. Your stomach does a flip, and you don’t know if you can entirely blame it on crappy diner food.
“C’mon Johnny, we’re burning daylight.” The woman piles into the back of the van, followed by Kerry, and you watch Johnny pull onto the road and vanish from view.
–
V didn’t sleep much in the first few days after receiving his grim prognosis. It was only after he allowed himself a full eight hours that the dreams started happening.
Now, he was no sleep expert, nor was he well versed in how this biochip was affecting every aspect of his neurology. He was more a pistol expert, or an infiltration expert, or a sucker-for-lost-causes, always-in-over-his-head expert. It didn’t seem like something worth bothering Vik over, seeing as he barely knew how the chip worked in the first place, nor did seeking Misty’s advice seem particularly sound, as she would probably give him some cryptic instruction on lucid dreaming or some crap like that.
He definitely wasn’t going to talk to Silverhand about it. The less words exchanged with that prick about the contents of his own head, the better.
With memories of that prewar fuel station still fresh in his mind, V decided one morning to spend some time on the net, and get some answers as to what the dreams could mean, or why they were happening, or how the hell he managed to pick up so much detail about ancient history.
He didn’t find much about dreams that wasn’t hidden behind a BioTech paywall, and breaking in on his own just for this didn’t seem worth the risk. The last thing he needed was a corp flagging his net activity as a reason to hunt him down. The most he could gather was that vivid dreams could be caused by intense periods of stress, and fuck if that wasn’t the long and short of it.
Eventually he found a historical preservation company dedicated to something called ‘old Americana’, that apparently being a term for the glitzy façade of prewar American culture. Most of what they had was photos of cars and vintage fashion, and a few ads said braindances with a classic flair would be coming soon. A dead end. Nothing that even remotely resembled the dream, and nothing to explain how the dream was so specific with its tech and time period.
“Doing a homework assignment?”
V pried off a shoe and threw it through Silverhand’s engrammic chest, where it rebounded off the wall and landed with a thud. “Piss off.”
“Aw, now that’s not very nice. And here I thought roommates were supposed to get along.” V heard the click of the lighter, and grimaced as even the virtual smoke somehow managed to sting the inside of his nose. “Whatever it is you’re looking for, you won’t find it in that crap. ‘S all smoke and mirrors. Anything worth knowing about history probably went up in flames on some book burning pile decades ago.”
“Yeah, yeah. The net is dead, long live the net.” Part of V wondered if the reasons behind the dreams lay just beyond the Blackwall, but just the notion of attempting something like that made him shiver. Closing out of his station, V pointedly did not look at Silverhand as he crossed the room to pick up his shoe.
Silverhand glitched out somewhere in the corner of his eye, suddenly standing much closer to him. “What were you looking for, anyway?”
“C’mon. Wakako will have my head if I’m late again.”
-
“I’ll meet you there. Thanks again, V.”
“Thank me when we find your friend. Wish me luck.” Cutting the call to Judy, V jogged down the stairs towards where he knew was the closest rail station. It was starting to rain, and with his car still in the shop from that freak crash, the maglev beat walking.
For a moment, things were quiet. Peaceful, even. The street at this time of night was relatively empty, thunder rumbled distantly over the echoing sounds of advertisements, the smell of rainfall on the pavement was pleasantly familiar. Then the right side of his head throbbed, and he knew seconds before his HUD told him that the chip was acting up again.
“Well, isn’t this romantic?” a deep voice deadpanned somewhere to his right. “Two gonks out past curfew, just taking in the sights of Night City?” Silverhand glitched into existence strolling next to him, his usually hard to read expression now plainly one of boredom. “Hold me, V. It’s so cold.”
V pinched the bridge of his nose. At this point, these chip-induced headaches weren't even worth the MaxDoc. “What is it now, Johnny? If you’re just out to whine about Mikoshi some more, I swear – “
“Oh, lighten up, killjoy.” There was another click of the lighter, which only bolstered V’s growing bad mood. “Whatever’s got your thoughts all twisted up lately has me curious, is all. Not to mention, what the fuck are we doing meeting this Mox chick on a wild goose chase?”
V chose to ignore Silverhand’s first line of questioning. “Evelyn’s the only lead we have right now. Unless you want to take your chances asking Arasaka nicely to just let us in?”
“Man, whoever taught you humor fucked it up big time.” Silverhand appeared a few paces ahead of V, giving him a fixed stare. “I know why we need the doll. I’m asking why you’re going out of your way to make nice with her girlfriend. Seems like you’re not going to get much out of it except more thank yous. I don’t think you’re her type. Unless – “
V could sense where this was heading. He stopped immediately in his tracks, anger roiling hot and heavy like a stone in his gut. “Shut the fuck up,” he hissed, his fists clenching reflexively. “Whatever you’re about to say, don’t fucking say it. I don’t need to hear it from you, I don’t need to hear it from anybody. You don’t know a fucking thing about me. Who I am, who I was, what I want – it’s none of your fucking business. So get that through your thick virtual skull, because if you think for one goddamn second that I’m going to help you, then any discussion about my body ends here. One more word, and I swear to Christ I will cut your chip out myself and throw it into the fucking ocean. Got it?”
Silverhand blinked twice, stunned at last into blissful silence. “Yeah, V. I got it.”
V stormed past him, so caught up in agitated frustration that he missed the turn for the station. He kept walking forward, hand shoved into his pockets and gaze pointed at the ground. Rain was starting to soak through his jacket and into his shoes.
Silverhand didn’t appear again, but V heard his stupid voice speak in his head. “I could just go digging. But I’m trying to make nice, so I won’t for now. What’s a dead guy gotta do to get on your good side, huh?”
V sighed and closed his eyes. “Start with some quiet. We’ll go from there.”