V stood in his corner, muscles tense and eyes focused while Viktor wrapped his hands with practiced efficiency. "Remember, V, keep your guard up and stay light on your feet. This guy's fast, but you've got the power and the skill to take him down. Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee, and all that crap."
“Thanks Vik.” V nodded, his gaze narrowing across the ring to his opponent, Lynx. He was an up and comer from the Tyger Claws who bounced on his toes like a cat and kept his eyes locked on V with a predatory intensity. A Jiu Jitsu fighter Vik told him, so V needed to avoid being knocked down at all costs.
The audience’s noise reached a crescendo before hushing as the referee climbed over the net. The match was about to begin. V glanced at the sea of faces, searching for one in particular as he took his place in the centre of the ring. Before he spotted the figure slipping in through the back door, the bell rang and the fight began. All that mattered now was winning.
Kerry Eurodyne wasn’t one for blending in, but he made an effort tonight. A worn hoodie, dark sunglasses, and a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes. He stood back between the door and the pool table, behind the bulk of the crowd to avoid any fans that might recognise him.
Ever since that night they’d shared on Kovachek’s burning boat, V’s mind had been replaying the memory of their fling on repeat. He had no idea if it meant anything. It probably didn't, despite the flirty texts they sent each other afterwards. Last night after a shot of tequila (or two, per Johnny’s encouragement), V worked himself up enough to shoot a casual message to Kerry, inviting him to the boxing match, without expecting much. It was probably a bad idea to ask Kerry to come to this particular bar, but V wasn’t really thinking about that. He was thinking that he was never the type to chase, especially not a world-famous rockstar. He had his pride. But he couldn’t deny the small hope that flickered when he saw the "message read" notification. It was embarrassing… especially when Johnny smirked at him knowingly.
“He fucked you once, don’t expect it to happen again.” He’d said.
Yeah, whatever. Johnny was probably right.
His opponent lunged forward, throwing a heavy punch that grazed V's cheek. The pain was sharp but fleeting, replaced by a surge of adrenaline, thanks to the pain editors Vik installed. V countered with a swift uppercut to the ribs, followed by a powerful right hook that sent Lynx staggering. He didn’t let up, pressing his advantage with a flurry of punches.
Through the haze of movement and noise, V caught a glimpse of Kerry in the crowd, trying to keep a low profile. But he’d recognise him anywhere thanks to his shared memories with Johnny. The sight fueled V. He was fighting for more than just the thrill of the match now; he was fighting to impress Kerry; to puff up his chest and show off.
V floated around the ring with the grace of a butterfly, just like Vik told him to. He danced around his opponent, weaving in and out, landing quick jabs that snapped his head back. The crowd’s roar became a distant hum as he focused on Lynx, channeling all his energy into the match. Every punch he threw was a statement, a show of his strength, a reminder of his resilience and an outlet for his rage.
The rest of the fight was brutal and fast-paced. V took a few hard hits and the crowd cheered at every punch. Lynx was tough and agile, splitting V’s brow open with a hook that sent him reeling. Blood gushed from the wound, blinding one of his Kiroshi’s, but he didn’t slow him down any.
Vik had insisted on not tuning the pain editors up too much, and V was starting to get tired and sore. Finally, with a well-timed uppercut, V landed the decisive blow and Lynx crumpled to the mat. The referee, screeching his whistle, called the match. Breathing heavily, V bit off his glove with his teeth before tucking it under his arm and offered a hand to Lynx.
“Nova fight.” V said. His opponent looked tense. He darted his eyes to where his gangers were - their screaming, yelling and swearing soon reaching V’s ears as the adrenaline wore off. They weren't happy that he won. V had picked up enough Japanese on the streets to know they were calling them both all sorts of colourful words. Lynx reluctantly grabbed V’s offered arm and used it as leverage to get back on his feet.
“Yeah, nova fight.” Lynx replied. His face was starting to swell up bad.
V raised his fists in victory, eyes immediately seeking out Vik and Kerry. But the celebration was short-lived. A Tyger Claw, enraged by the loss, threw the first punch, igniting a full-blown riot. The bar suddenly descended into chaos, bottles breaking and fists flying. The bartender, well-versed in such scenarios, turned up the stereo before ducking behind the counter and grabbing a metal bat, ready to defend his turf.
Frenzied rock music blared from the bar’s ancient sound system as the Valentinos and Tyger Claws came at each other’s throats. The small bar barely contained the violence. Kerry, caught up in the mayhem, grinned wildly as he snapped a pool cue over the head of an assailant who came at him. A beer bottle was thrown in the ring and V smashed it on the metal bearings of the net to fend off the Claw that jumped it, the sharp edges glinting in the neon light. Lynx was already long gone outta sight.
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“Over here, kid!” Vik shouted by the back door.
He flashed his eyes to Kerry who seemed to be enjoying the mayhem. They needed to escape. V called out to him and fought his way through the throng, dodging blows and using the cluttered environment to his advantage. V grabbed a new bottle and smashed it into the face of an attacker, huge a ‘Tino, and the sharp crack of the bottle was a punctuation mark in the cacophony.
Finally, he, Kerry and Vik burst through the back door into the alley, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat inside. Breathing heavily, adrenaline still pumping, they exchanged a look before bursting into laughter.
“Fuck me kid. That was fun.” Kerry said, hooking an arm around V’s neck.
“Shit, you’re Kerry Eurodyne!” Vik exclaimed, then cast a surprised look at V.
Kerry was used to this—the star-struck eyes, the excitement, the stares. Vik, however, quickly snapped out of his uncharacteristic shock, trying his best to to regain his professionalism as Night City’s best ripperdoc. “See me tomorrow, V. I need to tune those pain editors so you don’t end up as crazy as a Maelstrommer. I’ll also need to check over your other chrome for damage.”
Kerry chuckled. “You're a ripper and his boxing coach? Convenient.”
V grinned. “Yeah, Vik's the best.”
Vik took a moment to pat V on the shoulder, a mentor's pride in his eyes. “You did good tonight. Now get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow
V nodded, feeling a sense of gratitude. “Thanks, Vik. I will.”
Vik nodded to Kerry, a hint of a smile on his face. “Take care of him, Eurodyne. He’s a good kid.” He said before turning and walking away, leaving V and Kerry alone.
They stood in the alley for a moment, the sounds of the bar fight still echoing behind them. Kerry's arm was still draped over V's shoulder, and he gave a small squeeze.
“You were fuckin' awesome in there!”
V shrugged. “It’s just another fight. Keeps me sharp.”
Kerry chuckled, the sound light and genuine. “You’re way too modest, you know that? I'd be bragging my ass off after a performance like that.”
“Thanks. But don’t praise me too hard. Lynx was good and real fast, but inexperienced. Gave himself away too easily with his wide swings.” V glanced around the alley, the neon lights from the bar casting a colourful glow on the rain-damp tarmac. “Let’s delta. I know a place nearby we can grab a drink and actually talk.”
Kerry raised an eyebrow. “Is that a date?”
V laughed. “Maybe.”
They walked together, leaving the chaos of The Brat behind. As they moved out of the dark street and into the centre of Heywood, the distant hum of the city came to life.
V couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of comfort. Despite the unpredictability of his life, there was something grounding about Kerry’s presence. They’d shared a wild night on a boat, and now this— Kerry accepting his drunken invitation to watch his fight. Maybe there was more to their connection than he’d initially thought.
As they reached a busier and safer part of the neighborhood, V led Kerry into El Coyote Cojo. It was a far cry from the chaos of the fight club, with a more relaxed, almost cozy atmosphere. It was quiet at this hour and most patrons had gone home, leaving only a few stragglers nursing their drinks. Mama Welles had already left for the night, but Pepe was still behind the bar, wiping down glasses and occasionally glancing at the door. He gave V a nod as they entered, recognising him immediately. They ordered drinks and found a booth in the corner, away from prying eyes.
After a few minutes of Kerry chattering about his new album and a possible world tour, finally he asked with a curious smile, “So, what’s on your mind?”
V took a sip of his tequila, gathering his thoughts. The bruises on his knuckles were blossoming into red welts as the gloves could only do so much, and the gash on his brow throbbed. Despite the pain, he felt electric. It gave him the courage to speak. “I’ve been thinking about what happened on the boat. That taste of anarchy,” He paused, watching Kerry’s smile turn devilish. “I liked it.”
Kerry leaned back in his chair. Unbeknownst to him, Johnny glitched beside him, silently leaning back with his hands resting behind his head, eyeing V from across the table.
“Go on, tell him how you feel, hotshot.”
“Didn't you just tell me yesterday that whatever happened between Kerry and I probably wouldn't happen again?” V snarled.
Johnny shrugged. “He's here, isn't he? The Kerry I knew 50 years ago wouldn't have shown up.”
“Ugh, hello? V?” Kerry asked. Johnny was gone. “Got hit in the head too hard tonight or what?”
“Sorry, not great with this shit.” V leaned forward, brushing away Kerry’s concern. “Look, the last time I—y'know, it was with my ex-girlfriend half a year ago. I don’t wanna make assumptions, but...”
“That cuz I'm a world famous rockerboy with millions of fans I got people jumping on my dick on the regular? Eh, you’d be right, but I'm clean, don't worry. Get tested semi-regularly. ‘sides, you were the first person in a wh- uh, nevermind.”
V snorted, choking on his mouthful of tequila. It sounded like Kerry was about to admit he was having a dry spell, too. “No, that's not what I meant—”
“Relax, I know what you're getting at. I think.” He paused. “You're wonderin’ if it meant anything.”
V’s chest fluttered with nerves. “Yeah. I'm not foolin’ myself I hope.” He laughed awkwardly, a departure from his usual self assured attitude.
Kerry reached across the table, his hand covering V’s. “I, uh, don’t do flings, not anymore, I'm too old for that shit.”
V used his free hand to trace the rim of his glass with a finger. “So it doesn't bother you?”
“Does what bother me?”
“That I'm dyin’?”
There was a pregnant pause and Johnny glitched beside the booth, standing with his arms folded.
Kerry wasn't the type of guy to be careful with his words. He knew V didn't wear his heart on his sleeve like so many others and he had the thickest skin of anyone he'd met, but he still didn't wanna upset the guy.
“‘Course it bothers me. But you're still here. Eh, I don't know how I feel about Johnny comin’ back, takin’ over your body n’all. But you're resourceful and you're tough. You keep provin’ that.”
“Just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page is all.” Said V.
“We are.”
The mercenary nodded, a genuine smile splitting his face. “Nova.”
Johnny glitched beside V, rolling his eyes. “Ugh, you're gonna make me puke with all this talk about your feelings.” He growled.
V mentally sighed. “Mind your own fuckin’ business, Johnny.”
Johnny’s image flickered, his smirk lingering. “Fine. Just don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” He said and flashed his middle finger at him before disappearing.