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Of all places to take a moment to himself Pacifica wasn’t on the top of his list. It wasn’t like he wanted to think, he had bigger things to do than think about life and yet here he was inside his car holding his steering wheel as if he was going to drive off at any moment. V knew it would be easy to blame Johnny and shake off the profound dread he was feeling, the truth was he had stumbled into this strange mood. To think that a simple desolate scenery was the thing that made V rethink his brutal breakneck pace and cold execution of his gigs was simply a joke within itself. He saw what they did to Evelyn and how she was ruined unfairly, used by the Voodoo Boys as a token in their stupid and fruitless plan. They were forced by a greater hand to work against each other, how couldn’t he see that? That should’ve been enough to make him angry about this fucked system instead he pressed forward and used that as crude fuel for revenge.
How is it that he ignored the brutality of Night City, the chokehold that Corpos had on everyone’s life, so much so that a construct was lecturing him to awareness? He always knew life was unfair, it was a bit of a mantra said over a smile and alcohol that he’d grown numb to. There was no reason to think of it any further than that, why not? Did they really give the masses enough lies and dreams to continue to fuel the city with their own lives? Night City didn’t care about the people inside it and really only cared about their vulnerability. And working for a corp didn’t protect you from anything, in fact it still made you a slave only with no chances of escape. There were no exceptions; he, too, was a pathetic slave to this system since the day he was born.
What could he do about it, nuke another Arasaka building in a blaze of glory? A lone actor in the city, no one would dare try to repeat history, he wouldn’t get as far as Johnny did the first time. It would be difficult to execute when they’re already on high alert since their shard is stuck in someone else’s head. But if he did manage to get help, would that make it easier? The fact he was entertaining the idea was so insane that V laughed at himself. A part of him knew should be worried that he was becoming too understanding of Johnny’s own viewpoint on life and the growing desire to become an enemy of the corporations but, it was sometimes easier not to resist it.
The issue about his philosophy was that despite burning everything to the ground to prove his point, Silverhand’s legacy has been largely whitewashed and forgotten a mere 50 years later. His remaining admirers were considered senile, stuck in a movement that no longer exists, and blinded by their nostalgia fueled delusions. The city wasn’t seeking another Johnny Silverhand when they were fighting for survival. It was a bleak reality that was underscored by technological vanity and constant new ways to lose yourself. V didn’t think his sacrifice would mean anything. What was the point, then, if no one is even listening?
The unmistakable static noise of Johnny choosing to appear in front of him interrupted his thoughts, he sighed as he glanced over to the passenger seat where sure enough the rockerboy sat there as obnoxiously as ever. V didn’t want to get used to him appearing and disappearing in front of him even though this was already a routine visit from the man. He sounded more sincere than normal, didn’t even look at V while he spoke, “You have to give them a chance, V. We’ll make everyone fucking listen, I’ll make sure of it.”
If he felt like he could trust the people placated by the strong hand of the Corpos, their promises of a better life, and the idea that the ideology of the city is borne of its people as opposed to manufactured by the richest people above, would he be filled with such depthless fear? He didn’t even trust himself, fuck! V could only frown at the overconfident man next to him, he leaned against the steering wheel and humourlessly asked,“You’ll make sure of it, huh? Using my body, right Johnny?”
Johnny was so easy to rile up, before anyone could blink he was practically nose to nose with V as he made his point once more, “I’ve already told you if you don’t have the balls to get it done, I’ll use you if I have to! How hard is that to understand?” He snarled with such palpable vitriol that V smiled at him in an attempt to make him more upset. If he grew angry they wouldn’t have to talk about how much his mind was changing. Misty was right, she often was, he was starting to feel like he wouldn’t be recognized by the V that came back from Atlanta, or worse the V that took Dex’s botched job with Jackie.
“It’s not. I just don’t like your attitude.”
Unfortunately, V’s plan failed in such a spectacular fashion it was hard not to squint at Johnny’s grin. The rockerboy backed off and even looked proud of him for pushing back, “Hah. You’re lying,” He sounded confident, so assured that the cat was in the bag, “You do realise our minds are connected, or are you dumber than I thought?”
V was done with this conversation, he didn’t know what it meant for him if he’s agreeing with Johnny so quickly. He felt stupid for thinking that he could lie to him, they were sharing a body already and it shouldn’t take a fool to assume their minds had begun to intertwine with one another. “You’re jumping to conclusions,” V looked outside as leaned back into his headrest, he tried to firmly tell Johnny, “I’m not interested.”
There was no threatening tone to it, no bite to his words, only a warning that he heard loud and clear, “You better be when the time comes.”
His body was his body as much as it was becoming Johnny’s body too. One could guess that he’d be ready to do some Silverhand level terrorism soon, it sure seemed to be going that way. What was he doing wasting time chasing after gangs, turning gigs into shootouts because his patience ran thin, and begging for answers about the relic every corner he turned? The answer was staring right at him: You’re dying, V. Now you’re worth as much as any old Arasaka pawn. There are only so many ways to fight the inevitable.
Growing angry with this line of thought he hit the steering wheel and yelled, “Fuck!” The better part of himself, he thought, was slipping away by the second. There had to be something he could do to stop Johnny Silverhand from turning him into another piece of damned history. It was difficult to hold onto hope when the people around him already started treating him differently. What was expected of him if all the cards in front of him seemed to lead to him dying?
V ran a hand over his face knowing that he’d spiral if he didn’t have a distraction, he checked the time to see what were his options for the time of day. He blinked in disbelief when it occurred to him that he had stayed up another 24 hours when he promised Vik that he’d start sleeping regularly. God, the old man was justified in worrying about him if he couldn’t lay his head down for a few hours. He had to make a better effort for Vik just so that he could see him relax. V could tell this whole situation was just as hard on him no matter how much he tried to convince the merc otherwise. At least since it was early morning he could call Vik without any worries, the stubborn man never missed his morning training. Now he couldn’t be more grateful that he was in shape and ready to defend himself, V worried that a corpo would try to track him down and cause trouble when he was off on a gig at the other side of Night City.
He reluctantly got out of his claustrophobic car to look towards the coast where the sun rose and for a brief moment he could see the glimmer of what this place was before it became Pacifica. It wasn’t necessarily better in his mind but it was different. He made his way to the parking lot ledge and sat on top of it to watch the sunrise. Perhaps the Zen Master had a point because it felt like appreciating nature made his world slow down for a moment. Today was a new day for V, he needed to make progress while he still had half a mind to. But for now, he closed his eyes and listened carefully to the tide crashing against the coast.