Chapter Text
“Jonny dies in a barfight, on some nameless backwater asteroid.” That’s what he’d said at the Mechanisms’ final gig. As was the case with the story of his origin, the story of his death contained some lies.
The “nameless backwater asteroid” he’d spoken of wasn’t necessarily nameless. It was “New Texas”, his home planet. Though, whatever its original name was, was long since forgotten by both Jonny and every sorry loser that still lived there. The backwater part had been true, once. Now though? That planet was a bustling metropolis, well renowned for its trade with other planets and systems.
The layout of the streets were different, but he still found himself in the place where One Eyed Jack’s had once been. He didn’t know how but he just knew. This was where Jonny Vangelis had died and Jonny d’Ville had risen from the ashes. He figured he should feel something about that sentiment. Sadness at what he’d become, anger at what Carmilla had done to him, anything. But no, instead all he felt was emptiness. That same emptiness that had accompanied him for the last millennia or two, as his crew had dwindled and his life had lost its spark.
He knew he was going to die here, everyone in the crew did. So why prevent it? Why delay it? Who knows, maybe this wasn’t even when he was meant to die. He had no clue when he was supposed to die. Only that, when he did, he’d laugh his first genuine laugh and feel his first real scrap of joy in a millennia.
Where One Eyed Jack’s had once stood there was… a bar, coincidentally. Jonny couldn’t read the name of it, the language on the planet now strange and unfamiliar from its evolution and his rustiness in his own mother tongue. …Rustiness was the wrong word, he hadn’t spoken even a single word of his native language since the day he’d left on Carmilla's ship. He didn’t have anything to lose, really, so in he went.
It was just as grimy and crime-riddled as One Eyed Jack’s had been. The furniture looked to be older than most, if not all, of the bar’s patrons and tension thick enough to cut with a knife filled the air. This was a bar where everyone was blackout drunk and itching for a fight. Perfect.
He slumped into a barstool and gestured to the bartender to bring him the strongest drink they had. They slid a glass of dark brown liquid towards Jonny. He raised the glass to take a sip when the bartender held out their hand for payment. He tossed a couple of credits onto the bar. The bartender examined one for a moment before pushing the money back at him and holding out their hand once more, talking to him in some unfamiliar, chittering language. Presumably whatever strange language the inhabitants of the planet spoke now. Jonny shrugged. He didn’t have anything else for the bartender, seeing as credits were no longer accepted there.
The bartender narrowed their eyes at Jonny and pulled a shotgun out from under the bar, levelling it at his head and cocking it to prove their point. How cliché. Jonny downed the rest of his drink and smashed the glass over the bartender’s head. They sunk to the ground as everyone else in the bar turned to stare at him.
After a moment, all hell broke loose. Limbs, glass and barstools were all flying through the air as the bar’s patrons took the opportunity to well and truly let loose. Jonny took advantage of it, too. He leapt into the fray in a frenzy. Punching, clawing, elbowing. No one in his path escaped unharmed.
And that included him. He felt a stabbing pain in his back and heard the sound of metal chewing up metal. The barfight stopped as suddenly as it had started at the sound of a laugh. A crazed, loud, startling laugh. Jonny’s laugh. He knew he would die here but didn't know it would be that very day. This was it. He would finally meet his maker, perhaps even find out why the fuck he’d been cursed to live such an unnatural, messed up life. Perhaps he would see Marius, Nastya… He didn’t know what he thought would come next but it would certainly be better than this.
And as the blood loss took hold and his eyes began to slip shut, just like any other time. He knew that, this time, his eyes wouldn’t be opening again.