> Night won't let up and I need to move
> This stretch rings, it rings a familiar tune
> Back and forth unavoidable path
> We wait, Waited for someone to save us
> When you were stuck at the crash site
> Man I didn't want to leave
>
> 'G.M. Vincent And I' - Comeback Kid
When Serj Dimitrikov first migrated to the NUS from Siberia, he and his infant son, Vicentije, shuffled through various temporary homes until they finally settled in Heywood, Night City. Their small and shabby apartment was designed for a single tenant, but Serj made the best of it. Upon moving in, the living room had peeling wallpaper and scuffed floors marked by years of wear and tear. To make the place his own, Serj immediately stripped the walls bare and sanded the floors back.
The few pieces of furniture they owned reflected his resourcefulness: a tattered yet meticulously clean couch, an old but well-maintained television set, and a dining table found on the street, which he personally restored and revarnished. Across from the living space was the kitchen where mismatched cabinets hung tidily on the walls. Above the sink was a polished window overlooking the grimy alley below.
Vicentije, now eleven years old, sat across from his father at the dining table while his gun, named “No Mercy,” was skillfully disassembled by his calloused hands. Serj would do this often, and he would explain what each part of his gun was for. When he was finished, then he’d ask Vicentije to reassemble it.
Serj’s voice always carried a sharp edge. He never coddled and he never comforted. Every lesson was a drill, and every word a command.
“Always keep your tools in the best condition. Fix them when they are broken and modify what cannot be fixed. Show them this respect so that they serve you with loyalty.”
***
When Misty found V slumped in the alley with a black eye, he was so ashamed that he wanted to cry. But she didn’t belittle him, nor did she remind him of how low he had sunk. Instead, she reminded him of just how fucking far he had come. It was over. He won. He might not be the chromed-out solo he once was, but he survived. That had to count for something, no matter how much it hurt.
He had to admit, it was liberating to be ‘normal.’ People used to see his klepto-punk mullet, katana on his back, and gun on his belt and give him a wide berth. Now he was just another stranger in a sea of faces.
The transformation in his appearance was jarring at first. V was still getting used to it. His hair was shaved and in his natural colour, and his eyes were now hazel synth-ganics instead of the menacing skull and crossbones he was accustomed to. His mantis blades had left behind pink scar tissue divots where the implants used to connect, and he had faint scars on his face left over from where his facial chrome used to be. He felt lighter, but also incomplete.
V had spent almost a month relearning how to walk the old-school way, his only company during that time being the cute nurse and his physiotherapist. Any implant to speed up the process risked giving him a stroke.
V had been determined to make his recovery as fast as possible so he could go back home. He pushed himself hard, even when his muscles hardly worked, to be able to stand on his own two feet. The doctor was surprised by his resilience.
He explained that V might experience permanent short-term memory loss due to the coma, as well as some other complications. Those went in one ear and out the other. In short, V had the doctor on speed-dial and was due for regular checkups on the holo for the next few months.
It was a hard pill to swallow knowing that the old V died that day on the surgeon’s block, Johnny Silverhand with him. Even though he and Johnny weren’t exactly friends, Johnny was also the best fucking friend V ever had. He was close to him in a way that Jackie wasn’t and never could be. There was silence in his life now that used to be filled with Johnny’s snide commentary, his observations and his opinions. Even if he was a narcissistic fanatic, he really missed him.
After visiting Vik, V had no desire to go to the Afterlife. He didn’t want to see Rogue or meet up with any of his old contacts and Fixers. He contemplated calling Mama Welles, but as he was about to hit dial, he decided not to at the last minute. She had already mourned the death of three of her sons, and maybe she already mourned for V, too. He didn’t need to spring his shit on her and reopen old wounds. Seeing how his friends had moved on and changed without him, for better or worse, that was more than he could handle.
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Now he was at an internet cafe trying to figure out what to do next. The joint was called ‘Du Monde’s’, announcing itself with a flickering neon sign and the loud hum of an air conditioning unit that did nothing to cool the building down. He ordered a black coffee, double shot, no sugar, and sat before a computer screen, paying the fee to log on.
The FIA had been holding onto a payment from his last job with them—the one where he betrayed them for Songbird in Dogtown. (The wrong decision, he lamented...) All the same, when V was leaving the hospital, Reed unofficially made sure he got it, handing him a bag of moneyshards that carried a small amount of cash each. It was safer this way in case he got mugged, the agent explained. V was glad for the forethought because when he was mugged, they only made off with a couple hundred eddies instead of the thousands he had stashed in the walls of his hotel room.
V had no idea about the state of his bank account, or if he was even able to access it anymore. He also didn’t want to risk logging into his account while in a public place, so he had to make do with his tight budget.
He tried to catch up on the news, reading articles about how Peralez was still the mayor and how Arasaka had retracted its claws in Night City, making headway for Militech and Zetatech. He then read an article about how crime was still out of control, and another about a new gang rumoured to be on the rise in the NUS.
V paused his scrolling when he read the headline of the next article: "Kerry Eurodyne’s Galactic Tour: From Night City to the Stars" His heart jumped to his throat. The blurb described how Kerry's self-titled album was triple platinum across the globe. Accompanying the article was a photo of him on stage, guitar in hand, and hair now wild and reaching his shoulders just as it had been during the brief holocall they had. V didn’t read the article, opting to close the website immediately.
Staring at the home screen, his throat tightened and his chest ached with a mixture of pride, longing, and sadness. Kerry had promised they would catch up on the holo, and in four months' - or was it three months’ time by now - they’d see each other in person again. But V wasn’t holding on to any hopes. A lotta people said a lotta things they didn't mean, and V was tired of being hazed. Besides, Kerry dated the old V. Not the new V. Why would a rockstar want to be with a regular guy with nothing special about him - nothing to offer him?
With a resigned sigh, V sipped his coffee and did what he planned to use the computer for initially—getting a one-way ticket out of Night City. The only problem was, where would he go?
He scrolled through the list of popular states available to fly to on Orbital Air’s website. Texas, Florida, Pennsylvania… The freedom to choose was overwhelming.
He pondered if there was anything that could help him make the decision. Judy was in Pittsburgh and Reed was back in Washington. Neither of those places appealed to him. He could go back to Langeley and accept the job offer, but no. For the first time in a long time, he really felt like he had a choice and he didn’t want to squander it. Misty was right to encourage him to travel. After he gets it outta his system, maybe then he will see if that job offer is still on the table?
V saw a cheap flight to New York that fit within his budget. The only family he had was his father, Serj, who he hadn’t been on speaking terms with for over a decade. Last he knew, he lived somewhere in New York, so that was crossed off the list of possibilities.
V didn’t have any aunts or uncles that he could visit and he didn’t have a mother either, but he knew he’d meet new people and make new friends. He was good at that. And this wasn’t the first time he’d thrown in the towel and moved cities. Last time he left NC, it was for Atlanta to live with his then-girlfriend, Maya. He had experience starting over from scratch. He'd be fine.
Except the doubt began to creep in. Moving in with Maya went to shit after just a few months, and Atlanta wasn’t what he’d hoped it’d be. They clashed on everything, and she eventually had enough and kicked him out. Then he came crawling back to NC with his tail between his legs.
V tapped his fingers on the desk, staring at the styrofoam cup with his drink in it. The label was green and orange with ‘Du Monde’s’ written in big curvy letters. Underneath, in a smaller font, were two words: ‘New Orleans’.
V shifted his gaze back to the computer screen. The only things he really knew about New Orleans was that it flooded at some point and that the city was famous for their kickass parties, jazz, and food. Maybe a place like that could be good for him? Maybe it could help him reset and wrap his head around everything that’s happened? Maybe then he could start to heal?
V typed ‘New Orleans’ into the website’s browser and watched nervously as the page refreshed with the flight options. The next flight was tomorrow.
Being in Night City was like being in an abusive relationship.The city's neon lights and ceaseless energy masked its dark underbelly. It beat him down, wore him out, and left him feeling like an utterly miserable pile of shit. But just when he thought he couldn't take it anymore, it offered a glimmer of false hope, a fleeting moment of euphoria that made him forget the pain. It was time to cut ties for good.
He wasn't running away. He was making a conscious decision to leave this cycle of abuse behind. No more crawling back. No more looking over his shoulder. He was going to break free.
“Fuck it.” He mumbled.
In a few clicks the flight was booked. He wondered If Judy would be proud of him, but he decided not to text her about it.