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@edgeruns
#EDGERUNS: a private writing blog for VALENTINE "V" CASTILLO of cd projekt red's CYBERPUNK 2077 universe. streekid origin path with valentino background. don't fear the reaper + temperance ending. character information here. adaptable to modern + futuristic settings. plot heavy, low activity. do not interact if you are under the age of twenty-one.
chooms with ... @novastrella, @pamurais alternate blogs ... @countrys
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it’s a new year and i miss him.
you ever miss your boy 😭
and there is a part of her that knows this is off mission, and that part is combatted by her newly awakened rebellion that sees herself for what she truly is — yet another weapon in a growing arsenal, conditioned to know nothing more than the objectives laid out in front of her. v's survival requires the cold calculation of a job well done but so mi struggles to sever the ties that bind them, the ties that prevent her from seeing this as the objective clusterfuck that it is — there is hope in this delusion and so she stays in it, with him.
the hand that she outstretches towards him is a test, tentative, delicate in ways that can later be used to deny it's presence as her fingers tenderly wrap around v's wrist. the pulse there is soothing, hopeful — so mi clings to it.
" what do you want ? "
she can hardly believe it when it's spoken but she realizes, through his pained laughter, that she is no better than those she professes does not have his best interests at heart. " if you could tell everyone to fuck off — what would you do ? "
" look, so mi. i just ... " his gaze settles on the connection between them. her hand on his wrist. the warmth. he places his other hand on top of hers as a shaky breath escapes him. " i just wanna live. like, i don't wanna die alone. feelin' all pathetic. reduced to nothin' because the relic has taken everything for me. i don't wanna tell everyone to fuck off, i just want to breathe again. to live again. to actually enjoy this fuckin' polluted ass air without the threat of bein' another number on the death count. "
it's hard to say all of this. his heart bleeds into the words that fall from his lips. suddenly, it feels like a shared moment at clouds again. him pouring his soul onto the ground, and someone else trying to make sense of it all. death is a scary thing. you can go your entire life fighting everything life throws your way, but when death comes knocking on the door, it all feels so heavy.
" i remember back when it all went down in dogtown. you said you didn't want to die. that you wanted to live. got the feelin' you'd do anything to live then. and i think ... i think that's all i want too. "
his eyelids blanket his gaze for a moment. another shaky breath. the relic is constantly malfunctioning now. always interfering with his systems, his vitals, his everything. johnny was bleeding into him, v was slowly slipping away. the hand on top of hers lingers for a moment longer before he pulled away to fight off a coughing attack.
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IMPROMPTU STARTER , @edgeruns .
" you. " direct, impossible to mistake just who he was talking to. with a flourish of metallic wrist the younger figure was beckoned forward, the WHY plain to see ; stories laid out on the table before him, all dated recently, all from different sources, but all ( as trace had come to find ) involving v in one way or another. " what ... the fuck is your deal. " and did he sound, possibly, impressed? it wasn't out of the question. but more than anything else his tone was that of curiosity, bordering on suspicion though never quite crossing that boundary.
when you see a string map of all the bullshit you've been caught up in, it's understandable to be a little on edge. it doesn't take valentine more than a few seconds to make the connection, to see where this is going. but the prideful part of him is looking at it all like it's some fuckin' resume. this is the kinda shit he can bring to the table when people questioned his competence. well, maybe a third of it.
the gold of his eyes briefly flicker a different color as he analyzes the table one more time. attention soon focuses on the other man, noting the vague undertones that maybe this wasn't some FIA stick up. " you been followin' me? " he asks, like every job he ever takes up doesn't blow up in his face. turd wrapped in crepe paper. gotta remember that. half of these jobs are wakako's gigs too. note: tell her to fuck off next time. quietly. maybe. " you FIA or somethin'? figured half this shit woulda disappeared when meyers flew back home. it's the least she could've done. "
IMPROMPTU STARTER, @edgeruns .
" HEY , BABY. LOOKIN' FOR A GOOD TIME? " if that was the case, & a 'good time' was in fact being sought, he'd come to the wrong place ── or, rather, the wrong place had come to him.
as valerie made herself known with an obnoxiously ( & faux ) flirty wave, full body weight leaning on the sun-warmed cement wall behind her, it was with the same lack of urgency which she always seemed to carry ; too calm, too collected, the world as a whole seen as little more than something to shrug at. " gotta' go for a ride. come with me ... pwease ? "
propositions are expected on the streets of night city. he was desensitized. programmed to ignore it. if he was looking for something, he would go out and find it. but the tone of voice, the amount of leisure weaved between it, valentine could only pin one name. valerie. the other side of his respective enny.
he'd turned his gaze with a lazy shrug. they were magnets. always finding each other on the streets, in the middle of shitty jobs, in shit deals gone wrong. the sun hits his hair just right, bits of gold and brown are illuminated. it was a nice day. as good as it can get in this shithole. " do i get to pick the radio station? "
" no one in their right mind can deny the call of bubble wrap. felt like a safe bet. " a joke, though not presented as such. tone steady, the hint of a smile gone ── but a joke nonetheless. ( CLEARLY a joke, because those in their right mind and those who frequented the afterlife? they didn't quite overlap on the venn diagram of life. it was a place for the unwell, of that rogue was sure. )
as the sound of silence was broken only by the front door being locked shut for the night, slender arms would reach towards the ceiling before sweeping inches above the floor, the need to stretch paramount after hours of sitting and talking and being just congenial enough to set her teeth on edge.
had someone years prior told rogue that the portion of her career that would consist entirely of sitting would be the most exhausting years of her life, she'd have laughed directly in their face ... and yet there she was, worn out for no real reason at all. oh well. things could have been worse.
stretching was one thing, an action innocent enough to be ignored by most, but no other signs of being sleepy would be put on display before rogue made her way behind the bar, a large claw clip seemingly pulled out of nowhere as hair was clipped out of the way and attention claimed by v once more.
" not always, but as often as i can. " she would answer ; in other words, ALMOST always. not only did she want to make sure things were done right the first time, but the bar had at some point become a majority of her life, and going home to palatial nothingness was ( quite frankly ) not all that appealing of a thought, hence the bed, clothing, and personal photos kept in her office.
even after closing, the afterlife ( ironically ) had a heartbeat, something which her actual home sorely lacked. choosing to sleep within its walls more often than not was a matter of comfort more than it was convenience. not that such a thing would ever be shared.
" you have options tonight, v, you lucky little duck. inventory IS up for grabs, but if cleaning is more your speed feel free to speak up, 'cause i'd be more than happy to bless you with that opportunity. there's no bubble wrap involved, but it's the quicker option if you're looking to get out of here in a hurry. " with a clipboard in one hand and a bottle of disinfectant in the other, rogue would turn to v with an exaggerated fluttering of eyelashes as she waited for the younger to pick his poison.
part of why he liked the concept of a quiet life was things like this. monotonous tasks, shit that needed to get done. it was here that he knew there wasn't a gun waiting for him around the corner. instead, it was the familiar smell of cleaning supplies and filtering through inventory. boring shit. the good shit. there's a little shit-eating grin on his face, like he might be a little too excited to engage in this kind of job. he holds out his cyberware plated hands, beckoning the clipboard in his direction.
" don't got a lot planned for the night. it's either this or bummin' my way back to the apartment, maybe watch a little mind numbin' television before rotting away for the night. so you're in luck and y'got me for inventory. love countin' shit and playin' with bubble wrap. "
he sheds his coat like a second skin, leaves it hanging on the back of one of the bar stools. the air of the afterlife becomes cooler when he's not being weighed down by his attire. the valentino themed tattoos all over his upper body are the star of the show now, given that he always seemed to operate shirtless under coats and vests.
v is chewing at the end of the pen, like some neurotic squirrel, as his eyes scan the list of items he'll have to inventory behind the bar. " no way. i didn't even know you carried half the shit on this list. don't certainly advertise it. is it for special drinks for special people? gotta let me try half of this shit sometime, rogue. y'got some vintage shit on here too. shit that'll run anyone a pretty enny. "
at some point during don’t fear the reaper, you hear the arasaka people going: he’s really trying it! and that quickly turns to them being absolutely SCARED and being like: no, no, no, no. and i think, that’s what makes valentine feel like he made it. going from some lil street kid rat to being someone highly trained arasaka corpos are literally afraid of for having the steel ass balls to 1v18288392 them and win.
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and it almost breaks her resolve when she stands and watches v hunch over, gargling through blood and gasping for her air only to do it all over again. so mi steps forward with her arms outstretched but stops just short of embracing him - lame she stands, feeling foolish for her regret and how easily her resolve is swayed by the sight of his suffering. this whole town is a fucking wasteland and even the living are doing nothing more than rotting, some faster than others.
" hanako arasaka. still ? " so mi stills mid-breath, sorting through the rebuttals and rationale that fight to be heard which leave her stammering. and he'd have better options too if it weren't for you, she thinks to herself. " have you run anything on her ? " her question is a resignation, one that leaves so mi no choice to trust the fruit of the arasaka dynasty and the near-puppeteering imprint of the man who had blown it all up ... and still there was v, right in the middle, suffering for it.
" just ... just give a day, alright ? let me see what i can find on her before you take her up on it. " she's pleading now, it's written on her face - it's in the way that she breaches the space between them to wipe away the blood on his hand with the pulled down sleeve of her shirt.
" for real. " so mi's smile is bittersweet as it tilts up to meet his gaze, wavering at the sound of his heavy sigh for only a moment. " you saved my life. "
YOU SAVED MY LIFE. god, she doesn't know how deep those words burrow into him. it's what this is all for, right? some poetic reasoning for all this suffering? v supposes that it makes this easier for him, to come to terms with it all. at least, something good came from it. he has wasted so much time, pouring his heart and soul into people, hoping that what they say about night city is wrong. sure, there's so much bad in this shithole, but - there's good too. people who have touched him in the same ways that he has over extended himself. so mi was one of them.
he smiles, soft and tired. god, he's so tired. but there's no harm in letting her do what she needs to do. if it means scrubbing everything for information on hanako arasaka, he would allow her that. v nods his head, instincts have him leaning towards her. they had been through so much and so little together. but she fuckin' mattered. this all mattered.
" you can work your magic on it all. but from what i understand, hanako's got a ticket to the moon for me too. they gotta be able to reverse what their tech has done. now that i see how things've worked out for you, the moon doesn't sound too rough. always wanted to go, figured it was above my paygrade. " he laughs. " don't got much else beyond that. johnny wants to storm the tower again. aldecaldos think we should just leave, live out the rest of my days in peace. but i don't know. "
why do all the awkward, uncomfortable conversations have to happen in the dim lit kitchen , around this specific fucking hour ? all of this is just splittin' open a real old wound that he thought had healed over .. just like johnny , before he flung himself at arasaka, except johnny never really belonged to him .. can he even say v did ? this was real, wasn't it ? they had something good, in a city that did nothing but take, and take ..
and take. they just got each other, too. and, here we go .. that stubborn part of him, that wants to be angry, wants to churn all this pain and anxiety into something .. that might numb this. fight back for once. he knows what it is, though. all these nights , deep into workin' on his next album, parties for corpo shit, was it even fair at this point to get mad at himself for not asking ? he didn't even know the relic could even do that .. fuck, except that first time they met, when v swallowed those pills to exorcise johnny .. he had passed out on his floor.
johnny said it would happen .. but once again, man of so many fucking words. ʺ been doing this all by your lonesome ? .. ʺ he finally said, scared his voice was gonna betray him. but, he doesn't skip a beat. ʺ wish you would've said somethin' .. I want .. ʺ he stops, crossing his arms. ʺ I would want t' be there for you.. ʺ who knows, maybe his past relationships wouldn't have been so fucked if he was more .. present. neither here nor there. ʺ .. I'm glad, you've been lookin' into it. but either way, I would have worried. how could I not ? ʺ
pushing himself off the counter, he reaches out to grasp his forearms, running his thumb across the line of the tattoos cross' the skin there. ʺ alright, c'mon. ʺ his throat, scratches. pulls him out of the kitchen into the living room ( he hates this goddamn house. ) this conversation's anything but over, call him selfish for wanting to salvage this night.
ʺ hey v .. ʺ he starts, stopping at the edge of the couch. ʺ wait here, I'll grab some clothes. shower if you want. you know where it is. ʺ he winked, stepping back & turning up the stairs.
" yeah, " he responds, vacant, distant. there's doubt there. not in their relationship. shit, this was the best thing to happen to him ever since konpeki plaza. kerry had wedged his way into his life, making shit matter along the way. relationships were few and far between for the merc. gang life made it hard growing up, merc life makes it harder. people close to you get hurt, especially in this line of work. jackie was dead. his parents were dead. so many friends, so many people that mattered. so, this thing - this little dance their doing? it's terrifying. it's doomed.
he watches kerry disappear into the upper levels of the mansion. as soon as v is certain that he's going to be preoccupied with whatever, his legs can't carry him to the bathroom faster. the door slams a little too hard. hopefully, the assumption is that he didn't just crash into the floor again. but fuck. it's not like he cares now. the cat is out of the fuckin' bag. kerry knows. shit it ain't gonna be the same. and it all feels so fuckin' real now.
in truth, v was afraid of dying. he remembers dexter deshawn's question. quiet life? blaze of glory? he'd clung to the concept of dying like a legend, going out with a fight and being remembered for it. but his heart was in a quiet life. somewhere he can be happy. maybe they could've had that? in a another life? currently, his eyes are fixated on his features mirrored back at him. is it weird that there's already pieces of johnny silverhand there? in the cracks, like some fuckin' roach.
before he knows it, v's gritting his teeth in frustration while fingers grip at the side of the sink. months of holding it all in, pretending everything was fine, was just sitting on the edge of a steep ledge. " fuck, " he breathes, ragged, trying to fight back the relic malfunctioning. maybe its the surge of emotions triggering it. misty had taught him some breathing exercises. so, he huffs and puffs and tries to stabilize. " breathe. fuckin' breathe, " he coaches himself through it. but it's not going to work and he feels really fuckin' anxious, so he's fumbling for the pills to toss them back.
when it all subsides, he looks back at the mirror again. he doesn't look like johnny anymore. it's just him. valentine. and he can feel the tears welling up in his eyes as he moves to undress, folding his clothes neatly on the counter. the shower switches on, it's cold, it's grounding. he presses his forehead against the granite wall, like he's leaning his weight against something, looking for stability, while the water trickles down his body.
@edgeruns , NOT-AT-ALL-PLOTTED STARTER.
" in the mood for a little real work? " closing time ( a thought which forced to mind a very old and very awful song, a thought which rogue didn't dwell on. ) brought with it the mass exodus of patrons ── those who were there until the bitter end waiting for a worthwhile job to be dropped in their lap, those who had returned from a job in order to get piss drunk, and those who had only managed to get in due to sheer luck and for the sole purpose of leering at those who they thought of as modern day chaos-gods ;
no matter their station in life at the end of the night they all left through the same door, the first time in what felt like countless hours where rogue could experience peace ... though what did or didn't count as peace could vary wildly from person to person. and for rogue? peace included the breaking down of boxes, and restocking of shelves.
it was with a hand placed on v's arm that rogue posed her question, making sure that attention was grabbed before the other could get caught up in the sea of abandoning bodies.
was he in the mood for real work? as if she ( more than anyone ) wasn't well aware of just how REAL mercenary work truly was. but a a smile would be offered nonetheless ── not of the sinister and manipulative nature which so often graced her features, but instead there was true kindness there ... somewhere, if you were willing to look for it. " it doesn't pay, but i'll let you keep all the bubble wrap you find. "
THE AFTERLIFE WAS A FORM OF PURGATORY. a chaotic, stagnant in between all the happenings of night city. he didn't spend much time in the place before konpeki plaza. shit, the reality was that he wouldn't have even cut it. too small time, too inexperienced. barely made it through the doors that first time. now, there's a little more weight to his name. valentine castillo, the merc who stole from arasaka and somehow lived to tell the tale. a good reputation to drown all past failures, right? right? he supposes, beyond all the death on the horizon, he managed to make it big. after all, he was bumping shoulders with people like rogue amendiares.
he's only a couple drinks in. not enough to be drunk, but just enough to be relaxed. v doesn't expect her touch. doesn't ever expect her to acknowledge his existence unless there's a job to be done. or johnny's itching to bother her. but shoulders relax, dropping slightly, as she speaks.
" shit, how'd you know i was into bubble wrap? " he replies, cheeky little grin pulling across his face. it was nice to see a smile on her face. johnny's got something to say about it too. this was a different side of rogue. didn't fit into that cookie cutter, bad bitch persona that tagged along with her during operating hours. but he'd seen some of that before, little glimpses here and there whenever johnny's poking around or influencing his decisions.
challenge accepted, either way. didn't need to get paid all the time. he watched as the last of the patrons escaped through the front door. the place was quiet now. empty. a ghost town, perfectly named the afterlife. he turns, looks at the supplies that claire had pulled out behind the bar. a little preemptive prep for closing time. " ... you always close this place out? "
@novastrella said: in another life, i would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.
they're bundled together, laying atop the hood of his shitbox car, eyes turned to the sky above them. for once, it didn't feel like the weight of the world was on their shoulders. they were kids again - things were simple. he remembers distant talks of falling stars and the moon. something he wanted to experience with her. didn't have the time then. now, they're here, his arm falling asleep under her head. a smile pulls, his gaze shifts from the tiny stars flickering to her, the biggest star in his solar system.
" yeah, " he speaks, breaking a silence that fell between them. it was hard to find happiness in night city. sure, it was the city of dream, but those dreams didn't usually belong to people like them. happy endings were few and far between. and given the state of the relic, it was hard not to succumb to the idea of what was on the horizon for them. v had told her tonight was special. tonight was about them. a small dinner, a flick at the old drive in, and the falling stars.
" y'know. sometimes i think about ... atlanta. all of it. thought i'd be happy doing something different, but i guess that was all doomed. maybe it'd've been different if you were there. i think i coulda been happy there with you. "
his focus is still on her. the stars don't matter anymore. if he died here, right now, he might die a happy man. but it was hard to give up the ghost now, especially when he's got so many outcomes at this fork in the road. but it's nice to look at the star, to hold her, and to forget about arasaka and the relic.
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kerry watches him haplessly swipe, turning deep red into pink, and a part of him wants to sit here, convince him that he's not taking up space he had not already welcomed him in. there's a hilariously large elephant in the room that both of em' are .. hilariously, ignoring. fine. fine. that can come later, stubborn sees, stubborn fucking does. ❛ oh yeah ? .. huh.. ❜ he's still crouched down, fingers pulling open the plastic bag. there was nothin' close to the flavors to be found back home, and shit .. wasn't it always like that ? s'different if the joint was run by folks from back home, but in night city, it's always a fuckin' gamble.
but, kerry tries not to judge. sometimes, even tasting the comfort of it was enough .. especially when he sometimes couldn't rush back on home. it meant so much. ❛ you get this at kabayan ? ❜ the food took a mess of a fumble when v hurdled over the way he had, but worse for wear, kerry hadn't cared about his food touching — and , if he's honest, it's been way too long since somebody's brought him food .. that didn't come from a delivery service pushed into his hands after a show.
picking up the bag, he carefully relocated it to the counter. ❛ you know .. I wasn't really expectin' you tonight, ❜ he glances in his direction briefly, allowing the words to settle between them as he took a bite out of some lumpia that got caught in a mix of it all, and v was right. it WAS fuckin' nice.
❛ so, you took a joy ride far off the other side of the city just for me ? damn .. v ❜ now he kinda felt bad for gettin' mad in the first place, or even just getting mildly .. frustrated that he couldn't get a hold of him lately. ❛ ..that bein' said .. when.. ❜ he leaned back into the edge of the counter. ❛ I mean, were you gonna say anything ? .. ❜
fuck. there's an internal panic as the topic of their conversation takes a dramatic shift. it was easier to pretend that everything was fine. they could enjoy themselves without the possibility of his own mortality weighing heavy on their hearts. he wanted what little time he had left to fuckin' matter, to not be stained with regret and pity. v continues to swipe at his face, thinking a nosebleed was going to follow. this shit never came without aftershocks, never made it easy. his gaze is cast to the ground, his mind is trying to grasp at a starting point.
how do you tell someone who really fuckin' matters that this is the end? that you can and will bite the fuckin' dust at a moment's notice. johnny knows they don't have much more relic malfunctions left. maybe its the chip anticipating the permanence of its being. the rockerboy has wandered off, not wanting to be present for this conversation, but not leaving them alone completely.
even he knows the heavy implications of all of this. this is why i told you not to fuck with him, v. he's been through enough. been through my shit. now he's gonna lose you too. so, there's a guilty conscience weighing on his mind. maybe it was too selfish to want one good thing out of all of this, to want to look for love in this shithole of a city.
" had thought about it, at least," he admits in truth. the thought was fleeting. v couldn't stomach the idea of pulling something like that out so early in this - whatever good this was between them. " but i just, didn't want you worryin' about it. didn't want it to ruin what we got, you know? been tryin' to figure somethin' out. got a few leads. hopin' one of them pans. was hopin' to fix it all before you even knew about it. "
he swipes away a drop of blood, a little residual from the first attack. it disappears into the fabric of his clothes. " relics tryin' to kill me, though. if that much wasn't apparent. "
— roach-works
