#cpunk 2077

The easy part was getting to the payload in the first place. With Songbird’s expert netrunner skills combined with your flawless stealth tactics, you were able to slip into the proverbial lion’s den unnoticed. You have reached the human icebox that Johnny’s body has been kept in. He’s in a steel pod fixed with a large web of wires that lead to varying monitors making a read of his vitals. He looks exactly the same as your visions; forever thirty-four with that jet black head of hair and shining steel plated arm. The clone breathes deeply into the respirator mask secured to his face. The motion of his stagnant stature is strong and serene. You almost feel bad about waking him from such a deep and dreamless slumber.

“Whoa… That’s me?” Johnny echoes in the back of your mind as he sees the very same images you’re laying your eyes on. “They even got all my scars and tats right.”

“Looks like they conducted a full scan of you, inside and out, and made an exact replica.” So Mi responds to Johnny, her additional voice in your head.

“I don’t know whether to be pissed or flattered.” Johnny scoffs, bewildered by the sight before him.

“Let’s save that talk for when we get you out of here.” You quell his concerns about the logistics and start thinking of a way to disconnect him from the system without raising the alarm “Song?”

“I am overriding the monitors.” Songbird tells you resolutely. “It will allow for a small grace period to retrieve him from the pod. After that, if the door is still open, the change in internal climate will cause a shift in readings and give away our position.”

“How small are we talking?” You request clarification so you know just how quickly you need to operate.

“Twenty-five seconds.”

“Alright, Johnny, let’s hope you’re lighter than you look.” You jokingly mutter while positioning yourself beside the pod.

“Was that a fat joke?” He antagonizes, not taking too kindly to your humorous quip.

“No, dumbass.” You chuckle. “I’m talking about all your dead weight.”

“I’ve seen you toss guys three times my size.” He argues. “Why’s dead weight an issue now?”

“I’m used to tossing guys with calcium bones. Not titanium, or whatever it is they decided to fit you with.”

“It’s carbon fiber.” Songbird clears things up for the both of you.

“No shit?” You peer into the pod and are amazed at the amount of scientific ingenuity that went into creating this synthetic vessel. “You might be lighter than me now, Johnny.”

“Hey now, don’t use this as an excuse to toss me around.” He warns.

“Don’t worry. If I were going to toss you around, I would make sure Song isn’t here.” You tell him, knowing So Mi is rolling her digital eyes at you right now.

“Yes, I would appreciate that, V.” She groans with a sigh. “Now can we please focus?”

“Sorry, sorry. You’re right.” You shake your head back and forth and laugh. “Stop distracting me, Johnny.”

“You’re distracting yourself, talking about what’s in my body.” He teases.

“Shut up!” You chuckle, cheeks straining from your silly smile. “Okay Song. I’m ready.”

Milliseconds pass as Songbird’s phantom touch cuts through every obstacle and clears a path for you to work with. You hear the clamps disengage and a prominent depressurizing hiss escapes the pod with a frosty draft. “Now, V!”

You fling the door of the pod open, taken by the sight of Johnny’s bare physique unobstructed by inconsistent glitches and warped appearances. He’s so handsome, a soft expression occupying his features. You discard these self-involved thoughts and immediately pull the cords out of the nape of his neck and spine. They line his back from the base of his head with two additional conduits secured to his shoulder blades. You lift Johnny up to slump him over your shoulder, yanking each and every one of the connections out of his torso before extracting him from the pod itself. 

His limp body lies cold and lifeless on the tile floor. You Immediately pull his entire outfit you collected during your time as a merc from a duffel bag and begin dressing him. Despite this being a drone vessel, you felt the need to protect Johnny’s dignity. A soft and quiet “Thanks” emits from your consciousness, and you smile, knowing Johnny said the word so softly hoping Songbird wouldn’t be able to register his gratefulness. 

“And with a couple seconds to spare. Nice job, V.” Songbird commends you as you seal the pod back up with the locks engaging right on time.

“What now?” You ask urgently. “How do we get him out?”

“The same way you came, just with a little monkey on your back.” So Mi tells you. “I made sure it’s clear.”

“Ha-ha. My sides are splitting.” Johnny interjects after this cutesy referral.

“I can’t wait until I get to hear you do this in person.” You playfully say with a shake of your head as you hoist the synthetic body over both shoulders, securing a firm grip on his limbs as they drape over you. He actually is surprisingly light and you’re certain escape will be a breeze.

“Is that sarcasm I detect?” He challenges. “Don’t act like you don’t love the sound of my voice.”

“Sarcasm?” You respond dramatically, playing on his woes. “What are you talking about?” 

“You both are hilarious.” He gives up on the jokes and reverts his attention back to your task at hand. “By the way, what’s the plan once we make it outta this dump?”

“I have arranged anonymous transport to take V wherever she wants to go.” Songbird adds. 

“Judy.” You say with conviction while retracing your steps through the crawlspaces and air ducts. “Take me to Lizzie’s Bar to see Judy.”

“Your wish is my command.” Songbird agrees without hesitation and programs the Delamain with automatic coordinates to Lizzie’s Bar.

“Jude, are you at work? I’m en route and I could really use your help.” You urgently hail Judy on your internal comm system, wasting no time in securing a place to take this synth to.

“Anything for you, mi calabacita. But I gotta ask, what’s with the urgency?” Her voice comes through loud and clear, your eyes glowing with the mechanical activation of cybernetic communication.

“You’ll see.” You disclose to her with a tone of mystery.

The Delamain motor transport arrives in the lot of the club and Judy’s already out front expecting to receive you. Thankfully, you appear after hours so no unseemly characters are there to witness you move what appears to be a dead body, even if that body is Johnny Silverhand.

“V! ¿Qué mierda?” The shock on her face says it all. You’re momentarily ashamed to spring such a drastic situation onto her, but So Mi doesn’t have the strength to take this all on herself. This doesn’t mean Judy is your last resort. She is your saving grace. “Wait, don’t answer. I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Just help me get him to the basement, please?” You request her to clear a path for you free of coworkers and staff. The fewer witnesses mean less questions and less intervention by Arasaka.

“Rita! Clear the place out! I want it empty in here for the rest of the day!” Judy gives the bouncer of the establishment the go-ahead to give everyone the boot, sending them away in an orderly fashion so that you can sneak the synthetic body in.

“Alright people! You don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!” Rita Wheeler swings her neon bat around, showing everyone to the exit door. Once the remaining stragglers depart, you lift Johnny into your arms again and walk him down to the lower levels of the club. Once you make it carefully down the two small flights of steps, you are greeted with the glowing red ambiance of Judy’s server room. Clouds of vapor waft about the large, blinking pillars as tall as the ceiling. She shows you into her editing lair where she tunes her virtues, and you lay the body on one of her brain dance chairs.

“I already know what you’re about to ask me.” Judy groans begrudgingly while looking at this Silverhand replica. “You want to decrypt the core programming of the engram’s construct and download it onto the synthetic brain.”

“In so many words…” You scoff when Judy calls your bluff. “Do you think it will work?”

“In theory…” She reaches for your nape, tilting your head to see the input slot where the biochip is located. “Yes.”

“And in practice?” Johnny’s voice comes through your mind, and you repeat the phrase for Judy to answer.

“Anything could happen and either one of you could come out a vegetable.” Judy inputs an auxiliary cord directly into the synth’s neck. She conducts a quick scan and determines the probability of the digital operation. “I’d say the chances are seventy to thirty. Your favor.”

“That’s comforting.” Johnny mutters when he’s told the compromising results of Judy’s capabilities on such short notice.

“It’s okay. I trust her.” You answer audibly instead of mentally and Judy listens to the exchange you have with Johnny.

“Is he here with you right now?” She gives you a look of concern that he’s privy to everything she’s saying.

“Always is.” You confirm with a smirk.

“I can see why you want to do this. Despite the risk, I promise to try to keep you both safe to the best of my abilities.” Judy soothes both yours and Johnny’s trepidations, peering into your eyes so that he can really feel the intent behind her words. “Now, climb up on the other chair.”

You do as you’re told, and she slots a cord into your neck as well. The static contact causes an electrical shiver to crawl up your spine, but it dissipates just as quickly as it comes on. Judy sits at her desk and immediately scans you as well. With both yours and the synth’s processors integrated into her software, she can look at the coding of the engram and ascertain the compatibility of a transfer.

“You’re in luck. Arasaka didn’t skimp on his cybernetics. The neural interface behaves much like a human brain, capable of interpreting raw data so as to not overwhelm the circuits.” Judy says, typing away at her monitor. “Although, these chairs won’t do you any favors in terms of thermal regulation. I’ll have to improvise.”

“Improvise?” You ask, leaning forward in your seat a bit. 

“Relax. It’s nothing I can’t fix.” Judy winks at you, then hails Rita on her intercom. “Rita, could you bring me all the ice we have in the bar?”

“All of it?” Her response comes through the speaker.

“Yes, Rita. All of it.” Judy repeats herself patiently.

“You got it, boss.” Rita says, then after a few moments, she’s grunting down the steps with a massive crate of ice bags in tow. Judy springs to her feet to greet her before she could make it all the way into the room, saving herself the awkward explanation of why she needs all this ice. “What happened? One of your towers overheat?”

“Nah, this is more like a preventative action.” Judy hastily says, vaguely referencing some minor maintenance on one of her machines. She decides to tip Rita and send her home as well. “Thanks. That’s all for today.”

“Don’t forget to restock on ice before we open up again tonight!” Rita waves to Judy making her leisurely departure, communicating her goodbyes.

Judy acts quickly and begins stacking piles of ice bags onto Johnny’s body with an additional one fashioned as a pillow. She then does the same to you, warning about the drastic shift in temperature before proceeding. “Alright, V. It’s gonna be really cold for a little bit.”

“Just do it. I’m ready.” You steel yourself, preparing to receive the sting of the ice. The jagged corners of the cubes dig into your flesh and you’re slowly going numb from the freezing temperatures. 

Once completely covered with ice from chest to ankles, Judy places a wreath on each of your heads to help monitor your vitals. With this, Judy gains access to Johnny’s memories and the coding of his engram to effectively terminate all nonessential functions that he learned to adapt to in cyberspace but are not required for human activity. Judy deposits a pseudo copy of coding onto the implanted biochip that renders it dormant and undetectable by your immune system, blending in like a fading scar.

“Okay, you still with me, V?” She calls out to you from where she’s seated at her desk, combing through countless petabytes of data. 

“Y-yeah… Feels weird but… I’m okay.” You struggle to respond clearly, feeling drunk from the lag in your cognitive functions. 

Right when you say this, the physical world collapses and you are welcomed with the sight of cyberspace. Everything is displayed like a dim hologram, reduced to a shell of what was a physical structure of life as you knew it. You’re fading quickly, disappearing into ones and zeroes while losing the ability to speak with the only thing you’re able to hear before everything goes black is Judy shouting.

“It’s processing too fast! V! Can you hear me?!” Her voice fades behind the digital obscurity of darkness. Then all that’s left is silence. This only lasts for a few milliseconds at most as life is thrust back into you in what you perceive as an instant. You come-to, blinking through foggy eyes and tunnel vision. Judy’s face is the first you see, blurred and slowly clearing up the more you focus on her. You cough fiercely, taking massive gulps of breath into your airways when you feel the disrupting sensations of revival.

“Hey, there she is.” Judy takes the wreath off your head and pets your face, removing the shroud of hair from your eyes. “You’re alright. I’m here, V.” 

“Johnny!” To hell with your discomforts. They’re all secondary when it comes to learning the outcome of the procedure. “Where is Johnny?” 

“Right here, troublemaker.” He’s standing for the first time, albeit wobbly, walking up to you from behind Judy. “Miss me?”

“As if. I was only out for-” You pause your typical jesting quips to better assess things. For one, you’re in a fresh change of clothes and there are no longer heaping bags of ice sprawled across your form. “How long was I out for?”

“It’s been a full week today.” Judy smiles, expecting your shocking rebuttal. “Your brain has to adjust to its new normal and it does that best when it’s in sleep mode.”

“A week?!” You sit up anxiously, but Johnny calms you with his hands on your shoulders. “It-it felt like a blink to me.”

“It gave him time to gain his sea legs.” Judy boasts, tilting her head in Johnny’s direction.

“Yeah, I forgot how great it is to feel… real.” Johnny holds your hand, and savors the sensation of your physical touch, your skin against his.

“You should have seen it.” Judy humorously continues, adding a bit of fun back into the tender moment. “I had to walk him through how to breathe when the download was completed. He thought he was going to suffocate before learning how to use his new lungs!”

“Hey, when you’ve been existing in code for half a century, maybe you’ll understand.” Johnny adds in his defense.

“Jokes aside… I am so glad you’re okay.” Your voice shrinks to a level just above a whisper and Johnny thoughtfully touches his forehead to yours.

“Honestly, I was more concerned about you.” Johnny confesses. “I lost connection with you for a while, and I got worried.”

“Please. I wasn’t about to have a couple of vegetables crash out on my watch.” Judy folds her arms with confidence. “Surprisingly, the process was pretty straightforward since the engram had another place to go. Arasaka’s scans were so exact, it took no time at all for his neural pathways to reintegrate.”

“So, what you’re saying is-” You create space between yourself and Johnny, getting a good look at him.

“It’s me.” Johnny nods at you, his mouth breaking into a wide grin. “All of me.”

You compulsively throw yourself at him in a passionate embrace, sharing this warmness and even venturing to engage in your first real kiss. The weight of Johnny’s face as he collides with your lips is enchanting. You can actually thread your fingers into his hair and drag your palm against the scruff on his chin. You don’t realize you’re so overwhelmed with emotion that you forget Judy is there watching the whole thing. 

“Alright, lovebirds.” She interjects playfully. “Cut it out or I’ll have to start whacking ya with a stick.

“You tune smut BDs for a living.” You counter, sheepishly while wiping Johnny’s loving evidence from your mouth. “A little PDA should be no problem.”

“I can press pause on virtues.” She retorts with a stern arc in her brow.

“Fair enough.” You chuckle, letting go of Johnny to sit up on the edge of the chair.

“Besides, don’t act like you’re not itching to take him for a spin.” Judy instigates. “The sooner you get out of here, the better. It’s only a matter of time before the both of you are getting on like a house on fire.”

“Is that right?” Johnny turns to you, riding the high your attention gives him.

“You’re seeing things.” You lie to his face, failing at playing cool in front of Judy.

“I see how you look at him. How you look at each other. It makes me sick.” Judy pretends to gag but smiles at you knowing she’s done an incredible service.

“Thank you, Jude. Seriously. Here.” You transfer five-hundred thousand eddies directly to her personal account, both your pupils and hers illuminating through the cyber exchange.

“V. C’mon. You’re insulting me. Get that out of here.” She says, immediately transferring the eddies back.

“But I want to repay you.” You persist, not wanting to let this good deed go without attempting to break even.

“I couldn’t put a price on what you two have.” Judy glances between you and Johnny. “Wouldn’t feel right.”

“Thank you, Judy.” You pull her in for a hug and she whispers something to you that Johnny cannot make out. “For everything.”

“Just promise me you fuck him like your life depends on it.” She squeezes you tighter while murmuring in your ear before letting you go. She gives you a wink and you make a wobbly departure with the assistance of Johnny leading you up the steps.

“What did she say to you just then?” Johnny asks, supporting you with your arm around his shoulders as he helps you outside the club. 

“Uhm, she said good luck.” You give a sly shrug, making up something on the spot.

“With what?” He asks curiously.

“Beats me.” You groan slightly, still dazed from the recent wakeup. It almost resembles the grogginess of a hangover. “I just want to go home.”

“Which one?” Johnny asks in reference to your numerous properties scattered through Night City. 

“The one where we first met.”

You summon Johnny’s Porsche, and he loads you into the passenger side, reveling in the thought of driving one of his last surviving personal possessions. Speeding through the congested streets, he locates your Little China apartment, and you file into the elevator that takes you directly up to your floor. Thankfully, everyone is either brain dead on BDs or drugs, so they don’t even notice this striking Silverhand look-alike appearing in their foyer. The sliding door to your apartment opens and your cat Nibbles announces your arrival with your iguana named Moxxie watching on. He deposits you into your sleeping nook and you promptly slither beneath the covers. 

“It would be a good idea for us to eat something.” Johnny looks around your room for a local food menu to order a delivery from. “Pop-Turds and Moonchies don’t really count as grub, but it was all Judy had up there, save for the occasional Buck-A-Slice.”

“Order whatever you want.” You tell Johnny while pulling the sheets over your head. “Everything is spinning too fast for me to even think about food right now.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time. I’ll order everything on the menu at Pepper & Spice if that’s the case.”

“Go nuts. You deserve it.” You yawn; the energy slowly being drained from you. “Wake me up when it’s here. I know it usually takes forever.”

You are fast asleep not long after Johnny places the order, glancing at you to find your eyes have shut and your body is still. He takes in the serenity of your sleepiness, turning on the radio to add some white noise to your dreams. The sensation of objects within his grasp is still taking some getting used to as he walks around your living space and examines your belongings, keepsakes and evidence of his existence. He underestimates how easily this makes him feel at home in this tiny little apartment when he has lived within these very same walls with you for a long time now. 

It’s not Johnny that wakes you up, but the scent of barbecue fried rice and sweet and sour sauce. He’s at the door, taking the order from the delivery boy’s possession and engaging in his first human interaction that did not involve you or Judy. 

“Hey, you look a little familiar. Are you by chance a Silverhand impersonator?” The delivery boy asks, stricken by Johnny’s uncanny resemblance to… himself.

“Sure am, kid. You can catch me in front of the Afterlife playing Samurai covers.” He plays along, annoyedly so, but doesn’t raise suspicion.

“Preem! I’ll try to see ya! Thanks!” The delivery boy ecstatically shouts, further rousing you from your drowsiness. The nausea and headache have disappeared, and your stomach rumbles with a sudden spike in appetite. 

“Fucking dipshit.” Johnny gripes to himself while walking the loaded bags of food to your cluttered coffee table. He discards empty pizza boxes, dirty glasses and overflowing ashtrays to make room for you both to enjoy the meal comfortably. 

“Impersonator, huh?” You laugh at the hilarity of the kid’s assumption, even more at Johnny’s quick-thinking cover and flustered aggravation. “Should I start calling you Silverhand 2.0?”

“Don’t you start with that too.” He rolls his eyes at you, opening up carton after carton of appetizers, side dishes and main courses. “Are you gonna come help me eat all this or what?”

“Mmmm… It smells good.” Kicking off the covers, you inch to the edge of the nook and stand, deeply inhaling the exotic aromas as your mouth waters with the detection of savory spices and seasonings.

“That’s an understatement.” Johnny adds, reaching for a plastic tub of beef and broccoli yakisoba. Using a pair of complementary chopsticks, he picks up a morsel of synthsirloin and brings it up to his mouth, sniffing it for a few moments first and then putting it into his mouth. “I didn’t realize how badly I would miss my own sense of smell. Or even taste.”

“What other things do you miss?” You ask, digging into some rice and skewers of Tofu’d chicken.

“Oh, you know, the usual suspects like sand between my toes, wind in my hair and the way a woman’s thighs feel around my face.” Johnny discloses nonchalantly while shoveling more noodles into his mouth.

“Then why are we wasting our time eating then?” You respond, unphased by his brazen vernacular. He breaks his focus from the carton of noodles in his grasp, setting them down to be replaced with a different meal entirely. He gulps down a couple swigs of water, swishing thoroughly to help cleanse his palate. 

“The plan was for you to regain some of your strength, but I guess that nap will have to do.” Johnny closes the distance, leaning into your space as far as you will allow. He kisses you softly on the lips, then again on your chin, continuing atop your chest until he’s slipping your shirt off to sample a taste of your bare nipples. You quietly whine at the tingly euphoria, letting him explore your body as he moves to pull your pajama pants down at the waistline. You fall back into the curvature of the sofa, letting Johnny kiss you along your stomach all the way until his head is nestled comfortably between your legs. Though, before he could kiss you there, he tests the strength of his new physique and lifts you in his arms, your knees hooked over his shoulders as he walks over and slams you back down on your bed. You bounce with a flagrant jiggle of your plush assets and Johnny’s mouth is watering for them more than he was craving the food. 

“This is a good thing.” You peel his shirt off as well, revealing the perfections in him you could only catch small glances of through the digitized manifestation in your mind’s eye. “By the time we’re done, I’ll be starving for that takeout.”

“Mmmm… Say what you will, but right now I’m starving for you.” Johnny pulls your legs apart by the knees and dives in, devouring your center like it’s his last meal. His tongue slithers between your crevices, soaking you with his spittle as he spreads the mess around your thighs with his scruffy beard. You let him feast upon you, suckling on your clit without rest until you ride the waves of one long and rolling climax. His hands grip your legs, keeping them spread as he familiarizes himself with your decadent flavor. It is only after you’re so deep in the pleasure pit that he forcefully rouses you to sit up and reposition yourself on your knees, enhanced with his face beneath you. He pulls down on your thighs, crushing himself under your divine feminine weight as he aims to smother himself with your sex, continuing to devour you every second through.

You prop yourself up against the shelves and corner of the nook’s wall, riding Johnny’s face until you feel his angular, pointed nose pressing into the hypersensitive bead at the cusp of your entrance. With Johnny’s tongue never ceasing its swirling, you rock your hips back and forth to really grind yourself into his strong features. He lets out muffled moans that harmonize with your melodic mewls, rutting the air with his cock still jailed by his pants. Oh, how he wishes to just plunge deep inside you, imagining it already as he causes yet another orgasm to course through your body.

You reach behind yourself, stroking your palm against the firmness of his cock so closely confined by textile, just begging to be released. Johnny is surprised when you shift your position, turning completely around to slump over him with your face hovering above his waist. Before he could acknowledge your move, you crush him with your pussy again, nonverbally ordering him to proceed with his feast while you unwrap the gift he bears before you.

Johnny’s arms hook around your thighs again as his hands trace circles around the crest of each ass cheek. His mechanical arm is surprisingly not cold to the touch, having acclimated to a comfortable temperature against your skin. He squeezes you, alternating from one hand to the other to really play around with your curves.

While he’s occupied with his sinful banquet, he jolts at the prospect of you unbuckling his belt and pulling at the zipper of his pants. With a little help of your dexterous maneuvers, you free his rock hardness and begin vigorously stroking its length. The heat of his breath warms you up with every groan of elation and you take this as a sign to lean forward and place your mouth around the tip.

Johnny grasps your hips even tighter, really pressing you down onto his face as he kisses you off once again, one long and persistent rise up an exhilarating summit that challenges your ability to concentrate on sucking his cock. The texture of the synth skin is uncannily reminiscent of the real thing, and by the looks of it, reacts the same too. Shining, rewarding beads of moisture appear at the tip when you pull your mouth off it, evidence that Johnny’s excitement is making itself known. You lean back down to run your tongue over it, tasting the zippy tang of his precum with a frisky little twirl that finally drives Johnny mad.

Before you know it, he’s pushed himself out from under you, taken you into his grasp and laid you flat on your back against your will, not that you’d have any objections about it. The combatting forces of his metal arm in contrast with his flesh and blood excites you as he hovers above, strands of his hair tickling your brow. He holds you down, submitting you to his will as his cock slides against the sopping wet exterior of your pussy. He doesn’t drive himself in just yet, watching your face contort when he drags his veiny ridges across with absolutely no resistance.

“You already feel… better than I imagined.” Johnny stammers, moving his silver hand to intimately grasp your throat. His half-lidded eyes peer at yours with immense urgency, desperate to impale you on his fully extended and throbbing cock.

“So, you admit that you have thought about fucking me.” Both your hands clasp the arm that is pressing you into the mattress, urging him to squeeze tighter.

“Yes…” He obeys your passive command, restricting your airways until you’re left gasping for breath. He watches your face contort with shock when the swollen tip finally makes its entrance. The displacement is revolutionary as you receive him, parting your walls with such accomplished fervor. He slides in so easily and in no time, he’s slamming himself into your core. “And I consider this a dream come true.”

He doesn’t break eye contact for as long as he fucks you. As far as you can tell, you’re his stationary plaything, pleasuring him to oblivion as he unleashes himself on the first real session of love making he’s had in half a century. He gruffly exclaims obscenities at you with every thrust. Salacious, staccato whispers of swear words like fuck, goddamn, and Jesus Christ. Your jaw hangs open, mewling and moaning with his hand still clasped around your throat. He sees this as an invitation to dip his middle finger into your mouth and you promptly bite down on it, sucking it hard and provocatively with little streams of drool collecting at your chin. 

The sting of your teeth pinching his artificial nerves coupled with that delicious swirling of your tongue that Johnny likes so much, he does not realize just how effective these sensations would be in pushing him up that glorious summit. Your walls tighten around him, adding lush resistance with each drag and pull of his cock inside every time he slams his hips into you.

“V…” Johnny sighs, the pace in his thrusts slowly faltering but he tries to persist through the uncontrollable spasms and jolts of exhilaration. “Where should I-”

“Me.” You tell him through a rasp in your voice from how hard he’s got you by the throat. You don’t wish for him to release you as you can sense your own extravagant end closing in. “In me.”

Johnny was expecting to pull out and paint your breasts and midsection with his spend, but the notion of emptying himself directly into you awakens a primal necessity to fully claim you as his. He lets go of the firm grip he had on your throat at last, changing his tune and opting to chomp your jugular in a ferocious love bite. The moan that escapes you is loud and pitched at the raptors, an estuary of screams and enthusiastic vocalizations fill the air, punctuated by Johnny’s desirous grunting. 

You wrap your legs around Johnny, hooking them behind his back to further aid in the depth he’s reaching. Upon his final moves, he retracts his fangs and lifts his head up to look down at you once more. You feel the gradual stiffness inside throb and bounce with his climactic spasms just as he crashes his lips into yours again. His tongue dances behind your teeth, blending your saliva with his in lascivious unity. 

Then, it happens. The great finale arrives at last. Johnny’s mouth being pressed so forcibly to yours causes your breath to hotly swirl and cloud your faces. He takes your head in his hands, pumping so rhythmically until he succumbs to his core bodily functions, all the while never ceasing his kisses. Milliseconds fill the space between each thrust, and within these pauses you could detect a scorching heat fill you to the brim from the inside, seeping out and making a mess of the sheets.

Johnny doesn’t exit you so fast, soaking up every bit of your delicious arousal. He drags himself almost completely out, stopping at the tip and then pushing himself back inside to feel more of his cum ooze onto the bed. He breaks the kiss, propping himself up on his elbows to get a good view of your eyes. He brushes your messy hair away from your features, revealing your beautiful face for him to see. While still inside, getting softer by the second, he grows anxious as if something is weighing on his heart. 

“V, I want to tell you something.” Johnny says while catching his breath, still sliding his cock in and out of you as it slowly goes flaccid.

“And I want to listen.” You smile at him with all walls of jokes and sarcasm having been demolished.

“I think…” Johnny pauses, stroking his chrome thumb against your cheek. “I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

After a few weeks of domestic bliss, your perfect happily ever after is interrupted when you fall ill. This challenges Johnny’s faith in Judy’s work, fearing the worst and that the dud of a biochip has turned malignant once again, threatening to claim your life for good this time. Johnny refuses to humor the thought of living in this world without you, frantically thinking of ways to assist your suffering.

“I don’t care. I’m calling her, V. Something isn’t right.” Johnny is holding your hair back as you spill your guts into the toilet bowl tucked away beside the walk-in shower of your apartment. The cold tile is a stark contrast to your burning skin, flushed and ablaze. “What if she didn’t actually know what she was doing?”

You finish retching, wiping your mouth with a square of tissue before tossing it into the bowl, flushing the mess down. “I can’t have her thinking she hurt me, Johnny. I begged her to do this, and I am prepared to deal with the consequences.”

“Well, I’m not.” Johnny ignores your pitiful request to save face and thinks about saving your soul instead. He has Judy’s contact information saved since they formally met, immediately calling her up to troubleshoot your symptoms.

“Hey, V. How’s the honeymoon going?” Judy sounds cheerful but distorted, like something is interfering with her signal.

“It’s Johnny.” He clarifies, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

“Oh shit, sorry.” She chuckles, entertained by the mistake. “Anything I can help ya with, Johnny-boy?”

“I need to take V to see you.” He tells her sternly. “She’s sick.”

“Sick? What with? Is she okay?” Judy grows worried, but nothing about this illness would suspect that it has anything to do with her.

“I don’t know. It reminds me of the attacks the biochip was giving her.” Johnny grimaces then shifts his tone to a deeper, more serious octave. “If I come to find that it’s not deactivated…”

“Woah woah woah! Slow your roll, Silverhand. First of all, I know my work and I can promise you it’s inactive. V has only ever done right by me, and I stand to gain nothing if she’s dead. As for seeing her, I can’t. I’m not in town. I’m hundreds of miles away at my gramps.” 

“It’s okay, Jude. I can swing by Vik’s.” You interject loud enough for Judy to hear you. “Say hi to your grandparents for me.”

“V!? I’m sorry! I wish I could do more!” She shouts through the other line. “Keep me posted!”

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“Have you eaten any strange foods lately? Sampled from some exotic menus perhaps?” Viktor shines a bright, pen-sized flashlight into your eyes, analyzing their reaction to light to rule out cybernetic calibration.

“Not any different than the usual scop Night City has to offer.” You wince at the glare of the beam, squinting when Viktor concentrates it too harshly on one eye, then the other. 

“Install any new soft?” He asks while putting an icy stethoscope to your sternum. 

“No. The opposite actually. Judy managed to pacify the only virus I have.” You disclose between deep breaths, cooperating with Viktor’s examination. “Without doing that, he wouldn’t be here.”

“I see.” Viktor peers in Johnny’s direction, silent for once as his only worry right now is your well-being.

“Then in that case, he should probably head upstairs before I tell you my verdict.” Viktor addresses him through a seamless disclaimer given directly to you.

“Anything you have to say to me can be said in front of him.” You deny Viktor’s request, reaching for Johnny’s hand to hold instead.

“There’s no way I’m leaving her alone.” Johnny steps forward to further back you up.

“Alright, then how long have you two been… uh.” Viktor starts, awkwardly touching both his fists together.

“Been what?” You ask, unfamiliar with the hand signals he’s using.

“Kind of a cradle robber, this guy, huh?” Vik shields his mouth from one side in a comedic fashion, speaking to you in regard to Johnny.

“We don’t count the decades I was on ice.” He shuts down Viktor’s instigating comment, attitude shining through as he leans on his hip. “Enough bullshitting. Just give it to us straight, doc.”

“Jesus Christ, I’m a ripper, not a fucking gyno.” Viktor pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration. “Do I gotta break it down for ya by using the birds and the bees?”

“Vik, what the hell are you talking about?” You begin to catch on, terror setting in.

“You knocked her up, wise ass.” Viktor reaches over to pat Johnny on the back. “This ain’t no flu, food poisoning or kidney stone.”

“You’re pregnant?!” Johnny shouts in surprise as if he wasn’t there when it happened.

“How is that even possible?” You collapse in on yourself, everything as you know it having shattered.

“Well, it turns out Johnny’s not only a synthetic replica, but he’s also a clone of himself. Granted, he’s mostly borg, but the basic template uses real living cells containing his own genomes. Stem cells, red, white…” Viktor’s speech gets caught on the way out, giving way to a long, awkward pause filled by an inciting clear of his throat. “Sperm.” 

“You cannot be serious.” It all begins to make sense. The sudden episodes of nausea and vomiting, the exhaustion, the powerful mood swings.

Viktor glances at you, then to Johnny, sharing a look of understanding and patience. “Your organs may be synthetic, but their contents are completely real.”

“Fuck, V. I-I didn’t know.” Johnny practically disintegrates, wrought with guilt for doing this to you.

“You couldn’t have known. Neither of us did.” You hold his hand tightly, reminded of the lustful request you made that first night together.

“What do you want to do with it?” Johnny reaches for your other hand, looking directly into your eyes with grave apprehension.

“It?” You slightly release the grip you have on Johnny’s palms as those words hit you like a pair of Gorilla Arms.

“The baby.” Johnny reiterates, the weight of his voice nearly crushing you.

“Listen, I’m no expert in this field, but a surgery is a surgery.” Viktor kindly offers to handle it for you and erase its existence. He’s like the father you never had. No judgement. No shame. Just trying to do right by you. “I can handle it now while you’re here. You’re barely coming up on four weeks. I’ll take good care of you.”

“No!” You let go of Johnny’s hands, distancing yourself from the both of them. They assumed at first you would want to discard it as any woman would in this day and age, but you’re not just any other woman. Something changed when Viktor dropped this news on you, and you’re prepared to make a decision that will forever alter the course of your life. “I’m keeping it.”

“V, you don’t have to do this for me.” Johnny urges, unsure if he’s even ready for what this entails. “But if you decide to take this leap, you won’t do it alone.”

“I know.” You look down at your stomach and smile. “I’m doing it for me.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Viktor asks once more so that he knows for certain which direction to take this.

“I’m sure, Vik.” You grin at him and he caresses your cheek. Despite not having your own family to help you through this journey, you have enough love here that you know this child will never want for a place to belong. “Thank you. Grandpa Vik.”

“Grandpa, huh?” Viktor rolls the title around in his head for a bit, really liking the sound of it while being taken by its foreign nature. “I gotta get used to that.”

“You’re tellin’ me.” Johnny nuzzles your face, giving you a kiss on the cheek. “I never thought I’d live long enough to be called daddy.”

“You got one tough cookie here; I’ll tell ya that much. As for this grandpa business, we gotta get you some vitamins if this is gonna be the real deal. Misty!” Viktor departs up the stairs to share the big news as well as to gather all the best supplements and health tonics for you to have through the whole pregnancy as well as when you recover after. The pip in his step is mightily evident as he skips stairs in order to climb them faster.

“I bet he didn’t cheer half as much as that when he earned his boxing title.” Johnny laughs, leaning in closer to you while placing his silver hand on your stomach. 

“This is so weird. A month ago, you were still a voice in my head. Now… I’m having your kid.” 

“If there’s anything I’ve learned since getting to know you, it’s that the goalposts for ‘weird’ are always moving.” Johnny says while tracing circles around your precious tummy.

“That should make the next few months rather interesting then.” You tell him, lifting your head to reach up for a kiss.

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Viktor and Misty set you up with enough prenatals to survive the apocalypse. As the months go by, they start amassing the likes of formula, diapers, and other nesting materials. Mama Welles heard tell of the news through Misty and next thing you know, she’s coming over with tubs and tubs of clothes and toys from Jackie’s childhood she would love to see put to good use instead of collecting dust in her garage. Suddenly, the apartment you first moved into upon your arrival to Night City has been rendered far too small for your growing family. You and Johnny pick up and head out to your loft property in The Glen, a great place to make new memories.

Viktor conducts your checkups and of course will inevitably handle your labor and delivery. He’s been committed to learning all he can in this field so that you can put your health entirely in his hands and that leaves Johnny to handle everything else in between. 

The first trimester has ended, and you feel a proverbial second wind come through as you actually have more energy, and the periodic episodes of gastrointestinal upset have ceased. Though, these bothersome symptoms have been replaced by irritability, extreme cravings for certain foods and a violent aversion to others. Your days and nights lie in the fate of mealtimes, capable of being delightful periods of indulgence or absolute disasters.

“What is that smell?” You barge into the kitchenette while Johnny is in the middle of cooking some fresh stir-fry.

“It’s the stir-fry you told me to make.” Johnny rotates the wooden spoon about the wok to incorporate the flavors. “See? I think it looks pretty good.”

“Does it have the Tofu’d chicken in it?” You ask, almost wanting to cover your nose to save yourself the repulsion.

“Your favorite.” Johnny confirms, lifting the spoon to show the cubes of soy-based protein.

“I don’t think it’s Peanut’s favorite.” You say, swallowing hard to hold back a painful gag, but soon failing as you make a rush for the bathroom. “Oh God… Peanut hates it.”

Johnny removes the rice from the heat and immediately runs to dump it off the balcony. He can hear you throwing up in the other room, saddened by your unseemly reaction to one of your favorite meals. He realizes in retrospect that he probably shouldn’t have emptied a piping hot wok full of fried rice onto the street from the upper levels, but he couldn’t bear to have it in the house knowing the misery its smell causes you.

Johnny is standing at the sink, washing the dishes after the counters have already been cleaned of any and all evidence of the dinner and its ingredients. 

“Where’s the food?” You wrap your arms around him from behind.

“Fed it to the birds.” He proudly says while scrubbing. 

“Johnny!” You crane your head forward to get his attention. “You could have eaten that! I just wasn’t going to have any.”

“I could have, but don’t you feel better?” He smiles, laying his head against yours while still handling all the washing up.

You realize he has incense going, and the window is still open. He’s airing out the house while replacing the greasy scent with sandalwood and palo santo.“Oh… Yeah. I do.”

“Then we can have cereal tonight. Or graham crackers and pie filling. Or I can go down to the store and get you a slush and a bag of cheese puffs.” Johnny concludes the dishes, drying his hands to better offer himself to you. The sleeves of his sweater expose his forearms, so strong and robust.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” You collect his sweater in your fists, pulling him close until he collides with your bump.

“Yes, but keep going.” He kisses you once, his lips hovering over yours. “I never want to stop hearing it.”

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“Goddammit.” You exclaim in frustration from your closet.

“What’s the matter?” Johnny is getting ready as well, combing his fingers through his hair and applying a couple dabs of cologne behind his ears in preparation of a date to visit Kerry and friends. 

“Johnny, I am about to fucking scream.” You respond, still hidden by the obscurity of standing around the corner from him.

Johnny walks into the closet, and you’re ensnared by one of your dresses. The forgiving, elastic style of fabric had you thinking you could squeeze into it but are quickly realizing that you’re far too big for one of your most favorite articles of clothing you own. The zipper on the side rests at the base of your hip, pushed down by the roundness of your stomach. There’s no way you’re going to be able to fit into this, no matter which way you try to put it on. You yank and tug on the zipper in anger, your irritability being pushed to its limits. Your breasts have increased three cup sizes, your limbs are permanently swollen and sore, and you can’t wear anything other than slippers or soft running shoes for more than twenty minutes without feeling like you want to rip everything off. “I’m a hideous fucking cow.”

“Hey, don’t talk about my wife like that.” Johnny says jovially, helping you slip out of the dress to discard on a pile with the rest.

“I don’t have anything to wear, Johnny.” You feel a breakdown coming on, unable to find the merriment in the way he speaks to you just yet, a rather annoying aspect of pregnancy you’ve had to adapt to. Things that would cause no trouble at all bother you to the ends of the Earth with no remedy in sight. “It’s all either too itchy, too hot, or too small.” 

Your hotheadedness is raising your body temperature, anger manifesting in flushed cheeks and a furrowed brow. You’re furious, but for the wreason. Sure, you could put on one of your oversized blouses and some stretchy pants, but you won’t feel your best in that. You won’t look beautiful in your eyes, despite this man always telling you differently. “I need to get out of here, Johnny.”

“The closet?” He asks, innocently.

“The house.” You explain, enraged to the point that you could punch a hole into the wall, but restrain yourself. “But not if I look like a gonkin hobo.”

“How about a compromise.” Johnny moves so that he’s flush with your body, your belly pressed against his chiseled abdomen. “I’ll call Kerry and set up a raincheck. If you can handle wearing a maternity outfit for a couple hours, I’ll take you to shop for a proper fashionable wardrobe full of things that fit and make you feel elegant.”

“No, I can’t have you do that.” You press your palm to Johnny’s chest, his strong heartbeat slowly doing the trick to soothe your cranky nerves. “We’ve rescheduled on him already twice before.”

“And I ghosted him for over fifty years once.” Johnny puts your worries down and reminds you of the truly important things while always making you feel wanted and loved. “I think he can stand to wait another day. On a better note, seeing you stand here with nothing on has me thinking we would be late to see him anyway.”

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“Wait, I don’t understand, this friend of yours was… a Spontaneous Craving Satisfaction Machine?”

“D-don’t you remember him?” You stutter through the uncontrollable stream of crocodile tears leaking from your eyes. The sting of this sob is unbearable, but you also can’t help but laugh at the silliness of your emotional outburst. “We went down to Sofsys and- and they were g-getting him ready for a m-memory wipe.”

Between speaking, you forfeit all control of the dam that holds your crying at bay. You throw your head back, a lamenting cackle throttling you from the inside. Every time you think you’ve got it all out, it starts back up again, coming back with a vengeance. Your nose burns and your eyes generate more and more water. The tightness in your throat causes every other word to get caught in your speech, leading to more interrupting sniffles as a headache slowly builds from how many times you’ve already blown your nose.

“This sounds kinda sad.” Johnny infers through your sniveling. “So… why exactly are you laughing?”

“Because it’s so funny!” Your whimpers shift to roaring laughs and back again, punishing you with stirring whiplash. “But I saw him die and that’s why it makes me so saaaaad!”

Johnny smiles beside you on the couch, pulling you closer so that you lay over him. He lets you cry on his shoulder, petting your head and giving you sweet kisses at the nape of your neck. “Why did they wipe him? Surely, he was a goldmine if so many people were using that unit.”

“He was!” You scream into his chest, howling at the misfortune of his loss. “He-he was considered to be m-monopolizing services, all for the crime of m-making friends with his c-customer-her-her-herrrs!”

“What a corpo thing to do.” Johnny shakes his head in distaste of the capitalist execution of this SCSM named Brendan. “Kill the competition.”

“The worst part was Theo.” You add, wiping your tears.

“Theo?” Johnny asks, tucking a lock of hair behind your ear, softened by the sweetness in your vulnerability with him. You’re so comfortable with each other, you know he doesn’t mind seeing you this way. In fact, you are pretty sure he likes it.

“When they picked Brendan up, this girl asked me to track him down after some maintenance guy told her the bad news.” You manage to enunciate better, albeit still rattled by your own nerves to completely shake the uneasiness in your speech. “There was nothing I could do. It was like telling a widow her husband passed away.”

“So, she loved this guy? This vending machine?” Johnny suspects he must have tuned the interactions out while presiding deep in your subconscious.

“Don’t act like it’s so far-fetched.” You counter. “I might as well be in her shoes if we didn’t get this biochip mess handled.”

“How so?” Johnny wishes to know more, to really delve deep into the psychology that pains you so.

“To Theo, he saved her when she was in a low place in her life. Call it programming if you want, but he had more humanity than the average Joe walking the street.” Your lip quivers as you try to say these final declarations, giving into another incident of sobs and wails. “He was kind! And he listened! He was just trying to figure it all out like the rest of us! And- and what’s more, he was as real as you or me.”

“It’s clear this SCSM had some intricate programming. It wasn’t rudimentary, but nothing that could exceed the processing power of a truly conscious AI.” Johnny reasons, and at first you think he’s over analyzing your assertions. He presses his lips to your nose, loving how you look when you get yourself worked up. “That being said, it doesn’t account for his ability to learn and exist in society. And what is indoctrination if not programming?”

“Brendan may not have had free will as we know it, but who in Night City does anyway?” You continue, dabbing your eyes with some tissue. “I often think about if things ended differently. If he could live the life he wanted. With Theo. He talked about her every chance he got. I know he cared about her.”

“Love is powerful.” Johnny hugs you closer, stroking the crest of your stomach to invite soft kicks to tap the steel plating of his hand. “It’s the one thing that will never fade away.”

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It’s the dead of night and Johnny wakes up to find you missing from your place in bed with him. He sits up immediately, looking down into the floor below to see if he can manage to catch any sight of you to no avail.

“V?” He calls out your name, concerned. No answer. “It’s a little late for hide and seek, isn’t it?”

The loft is not expansive by any means, but there are a lot of little cubbies and crannies you could tuck yourself away into. Once he’s descended the stairs, he scans the living area and determines that it’s empty. He ventures past the elevator and looks into the clear sliding door to the armory, immediately relieved by the view of you sitting on one of the stools in there.

“What are you doing alone down here?” Johnny closes in after passing through the threshold, curious about your sudden isolation. He runs his hand along your back then the other at the side of your round stomach before taking a seat next to you. With a kiss on your crown, he realizes why you’re down here. “Ah. You’re avoiding the nightmares again.”

“I can’t have them if I don’t sleep.” You’re holding the bullet Viktor pulled from your head and fashioned into a necklace. You rub it between your thumb and index finger, sniffling to yourself as you remember the path it took to get here. All you ever wanted was the world to know that you mattered. And now, this little Peanut is your entire world with Johnny as your North Star. On one side of the coin, you were inflicted with a debilitating curse with death as the only solution, but the newfound cure has revealed that your world increased exponentially. You only hope that you don’t fail.

“Oh, V.” Johnny pulls you in with an arm over your shoulder. He’s wearing his Samurai tank top and that pair of gray sweatpants he likes so much. He smells like the bed, a sweet mixture of lavender fabric softener and earthy incense. He reaches for the necklace, but you tighten your grip on it with a close of your fist, clutching it to your chest. “Don’t look at that while you’re like this. You need to rest.”

“I earned this fighting for someone who didn’t even believe in me.” You say, reminded of the grave cost your first promising gig was and what it looked like to see your best friend take his last breaths before you ended up shot and discarded like so much trash. “Just to lose Jackie in the process.”

“There’s no easy victories in Night City, V.” Johnny nestles his head into your neck, pressing his scruffy cheek to yours like he always does, knowing it does the trick to pull you out of your mind. He looks at your growing belly, both hands dying to cradle the holy gift within. “Just the things we choose to care about.”

“Back then, all I cared about was becoming a legend and making a name for myself in this shithole.” You toss the necklace on the desk in front of you with disgust, clattering away. “But now? As far as I know, the real major-league is this family. You, Johnny.”

“I think you’ve had the thought of death in the back of your mind for too long, V.” Johnny takes you by the chin and tilts your head up to look at him. The fluorescent, blue-tinted lights shine on your soaked face absolutely streaming with tears. You avoid Johnny’s gaze all you can, but he’s remarkably coordinated in meeting your eyes at every attempt. “It’s not enough to just live. We have to lean into love, not fear.”

“But what if-” You start, your mind constantly racing with worst case scenarios, disaster outcomes and intrusive thoughts, but Johnny interrupts you from spiraling even more.

“It was you.” Johnny cuts you off, the cold steel of his mechanical hand gives you something to focus on, grounding you to him. “You taught me the freedom that comes when fear loses its ability to control us. Nothing will ever harm you two. I will protect you both with everything that I am because that’s what I care about.”

After a few moments of quiet reflection on Johnny’s words, you make a decision that’s been nagging you for months now. “I decided on a name.”

“A name?” Johnny feels a smile turn up the corners of his mouth, altering the mood from forlorn to exciting. “Well don’t keep me waiting.”

“Jackie.” You beam at him through your tears, placing your hand atop his from where it lay on your belly. “It will suit little Peanut whether they’re a girl or boy.”

Johnny can’t help but well up at the honor you’ve posthumously bestowed on your valued companion, wishing he received even a modicum of this reverence from the people closest to him when he perished all those years ago. He was too selfish to see the harmful impact he made on their lives and how it pushed them all away. This is a mistake he refuses to repeat with his future son or daughter. From this point on, he vows to never fall back on it. “Jackie it is.”

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“Alright, V. I need you to focus on breathing for me, okay?” Misty has set the mood with dim, ambient lighting and comforting candles. She’s keeping her distance, giving Johnny and Viktor primary care over your physical condition while she manages your emotional and spiritual. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”

“And if you feel like you need to push, just do it. Listen to your body, not me.” Viktor is walking you through the technical process of your labor, but it’s up to you to execute it in practice. You’re on all fours, a hospital gown loosely draped over yourself to conceal your decency. Viktor managed to arrange for a birthing bed to be delivered to his clinic in anticipation for this very moment so that you are as comfortable as possible. Johnny is at your side, both his hands clutching yours as you feel the heavy rush of pressure through contractions. The seconds between each one are growing few and far between, giving you absolutely no time to recover before automated actions take over.

“I’m here, V. Squeeze my hand if you need. As hard as you can. You know I can take it.” Johnny gives you permission to administer all your might on his extremely durable prosthetic, but the pain is getting to be too much and your confidence to continue plummets.

“Johnny I- I can’t. I can’t do this. I don’t think I can do this.” The breathing patterns that Misty instructed you to implement are interrupted by gasping sobs as your anxious nerves fully take over. “I’m scared, Johnny…”

“Hey, look at me. If anyone can do this, if anyone has the strength and sheer power of will to do this, it’s you, V.” He threads his warm fingers into your hair, pressing your forehead to his for a second before continuing to speak. “I am fucking petrified, V. Absolutely shitting myself. But you know what’s getting me through it? The fact that we’re having a baby today. Our baby.”

“He’s right V.” Viktor adds a paternal air about his calming mentoring style that, when combined with Johnny’s encouragement, gives you that final bit of support you need to get through the point of no return. He’s rubbing your lower back to try and soothe your afflictions, fully prepared to catch your baby when you finally deliver it. “No one can have ‘em for you. Not to mention I’ve yet to see you shy away from a challenge.”

“You’re way stronger than you give yourself credit for.” Misty adds. “My Jackie would be so proud of you if he were here now!”

“Arrrrgh!” You growl through another ripping contraction, the pain reaching its peak. “Fuck you all for being right!”

You channel all your strength in following through with what your body is already initiating. While concentrating, you double down on the grip you have on Johnny’s hand and push as hard as you are able. All the while you’re struggling to make progress through the strain, Johnny leans into your space, petting you softly and peppering your dampened, flushed features with kisses. Gravity is your best friend as that heaviness that was once plaguing you gives way to allow your baby to finally drop. 

“Atta girl, V! I see the head!” Viktor roars triumphantly with Misty excitedly jumping up and down where she stands, watching this miracle of life unfold. 

“That’s it. Keep going, V.” Johnny says between sweet, precious smooches. “Our Peanut is almost here.”

“ARRRGHHH!” You bellow one last time, putting your heart and soul into a guttural shriek no one in your present company has ever heard you make before. The sudden emptiness brings with it the release of euphoric endorphins that soothe the shock of your delivery, replacing pain and turmoil with numbness and relief.

“Got her!” Viktor takes your baby in his arms while Johnny assists you in laying on your back. Viktor immediately places her on your chest, vigorously rubbing all the blood and excess from the surface of her skin to elicit a cry. 

“Wait, did you say her?” Johnny watches as Viktor operates quickly, realizing that it is indeed a baby girl.

“Congratulations!” Misty squeals. “You have a daughter!”

One look at you holding your newborn baby girl and it’s all over for him. Johnny is completely engulfed by pure elation. It’s at this point in time that everything disappears. That’s his whole world in front of him compressed into you and little Jackie, his girls forever and always. He moves the strands of hair from your face, really taking in the second he became a father. The cries emitting from little Jackie fill the room with her incredible presence, taking after you already. Their pitch hits Johnny’s ears in a way he never thought possible, moved by the vibrant signs of life in his darling daughter.

Viktor takes little Jackie to clean her up properly and fit her in a swaddle for her to rest in. While he does this, Johnny and Misty help clean you up and tend to any priorities following this procedure so that you have the best path to recovery. Once your dressings have been changed, a new IV has been administered and you’re lying in a clean set of sheets and clothes, Viktor wheels your baby on his medical cart he retrofitted into a bassinet, the wiggling little bundle of joy still too lively for a nap just yet. 

“You want to hold her?” Viktor asks Johnny. He breaks his attention from Viktor, exchanging looks with you as if to silently ask ‘what kind of question is that?’

“I’ve waited long enough.” Johnny’s fortitude shines brightly at his unmatched enthusiasm to take little Jackie in his arms. “Hand me my daughter.”

Johnny holds her like she’s made of porcelain, making sure his silver hand is buffered by the swaddle. He supports her head with his other palm, looking right into the face of this babbling baby. Little Jackie’s rosy cheeks are puffy and voluptuous like a cherub, truly an angel to behold. He doesn’t even attempt to hide his sentiments, letting them flow through him at full force.

“She’s got your thick, dark hair.” You say, still gathering yourself from the exhausting primal trials you just accomplished. Viktor and Misty step away to allow for you and Johnny to have this intimate time together, completely focused on little Jackie. “Look at all those luscious locks.”

You have been too wrapped up in your own anguish, you barely notice the glistening of Johnny’s waterline as his own tears threaten to spill over. Johnny buries his face in his elbow for a second, soaking them up with his sleeve. “And she’s got your eyes.”

“We did it.” You declare heartily, petting the scruff of his beard.

“You did it.” Johnny says, making the distinction of your flawless victory, his head bowing towards yours to meet you halfway for a kiss.

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With a few drags of your fingertips along the strings, you can detect that this guitar is frightfully out of tune. You continue strumming, giving each peg a twist until you land on the right key. When you have repeated the process with all six strings, you take a deep breath, hoping to not overwhelm yourself with the process. You’re used to writing songs. It’s your favorite pastime. Though, since the first of November, you sparked the idea to write Johnny a little something for his birthday. The sixteenth is right around the corner, and you can’t seem to get through the whole thing without your nerves getting the better of you, sabotaging all your efforts.

Pulling a trusty capo out of your jacket pocket, you wedge it on the fourth fret while placing your hand directly beside it. Using the opposite hand, you lightly glide the little pick caught between your index finger and thumb from top to bottom through each of the four resonant chords. Once you determine that everything is in tune, you begin.

The progression is relatively consistent throughout with some sparks of flare in the fingerings between transitions. It is a soft tone. Folkish. The more you play, that bloom of embarrassment forms in the pit of your gut again. You question if he will like this at all, as it is nothing like what he writes himself.

Just when you feel confident enough to begin humming the melody, a cursed knock appears at the transparent glass door. You scramble to discard any evidence that would reveal what you were just doing. You sit as stationary as you can after trying and failing to conceal the guitar inside a closeable hatch built into the armory occupying your loft apartment in The Glen.

The door slides open, and Johnny enters, wondering what you’re up to. “There you are. I was looking all over.”

“Yeah, I was just uhm…” Your voice trails off, unable to fill the blanks with a believable lie when his eyes land on the hatch left ajar. Instead, you exhale a deep breath, saddened that you’ve been caught red handed. “I chose to practice here because you weren’t supposed to hear anything yet.”

“Hear what?” He nonchalantly swings open the hatch, retrieving the instrument from the cubby you had it stowed away in. “You holding my acoustic hostage? You know, this thing can never keep its tune.”

“I can tell.” You roll your eyes, annoyedly reminded of the layers of accumulated dust you had to swipe off before you could even use it.

“There’s a reason I keep this one put away.” Johnny gives you justification for the neglect of this instrument, almost apologetic for its unintended mistreatment. “Let me get you one of my better pieces.”

“I figured you wouldn’t mind if I used it.” You humbly make known. “Besides, I kind of need it to be acoustic. I haven’t had the time to replace the strings on mine yet.”

“Of course I wouldn’t mind.” Johnny scoffs, inspecting the guitar to admire the stained and polished rosewood with his cybernetic appendage before holding it out for you to take. “Maybe it’ll behave better in your hands.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you still ruined the surprise.” You grumble in displeasure. “A birthday surprise I might add.”

“Huh. It’s been a while since I even gave a damn about that.” He lets the thought roll around in his head for a moment, trying to remember the last time he celebrated his birthday, coming up short. “Well, let’s hear it.”

“What!?” You exclaim at the notion, shaking your head back and forth in automatic disagreement. “No, I-I can’t! It’s not even ready!”

“Then we’ll do it together.” Climbing into the bench, he nestles in behind you, draping the length of the guitar over your lap so that the waist rests comfortably on your knee. “Tell me how it goes.”

“Now that I am thinking about it, this is stupid.” You attempt talking your way out of it, scooting apart from Johnny and trying to pass him the guitar. “It isn’t even going to sound like the music you write.”

“What if I don’t want it to sound like my music?” He suggests assertively, pulling the guitar back down by the neck to rest on your lap again, locking you into his snare. The firm touch of his metal arm finds your hip, digging his digits into your flesh to keep you in place. Your mind starts spinning as so many obstacles come rushing to confront you before you could even prepare to face them. “This is about you. Not me.”

“Just… Please don’t laugh.” You meekly request of him before retrieving the pick from where you had it pinned between the strings. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Johnny admits, giving you an honorable nod to further convince you of his genuine claims.

You begin strumming like you were before, testing the sequence that will soon carry your melody, all while trying to ignore that incinerating flame of self-consciousness. Instead of trying to execute the song in its entirety, you opt to walk him through each verse, giving yourself a chance to fortify your own dignity with each preparation. Though, just as you complete the first instrumental section, you cut it off short, unable to follow through.

“Why did you stop?” He asks, massaging his stubbled cheek against yours. He thinks he’s being sweet, but you are finding it incredibly difficult to concentrate with his watchful eye taking in your every move.

“Well, there are lyrics but-”

“So, sing them.” He’s so certain in his requests, thinking that the words will come as easily as breathing, but if only he knew of the unfathomable degree of apprehension he causes you. You are experiencing fiery bouts of anxiety, taken by stage fright when the only one in your audience is him. “I love your voice.”

Swallowing the remnants of your pride, you bite the bullet and ease the tune out, slow and steady with anticipatory explanations to get yourself started. “Okay… so. The first part goes like: I’ve been wandering through this dead city, with the devil’s voice inside my head.”

You can feel Johnny’s smile curve upwards as the pressure of his cheek increases when you progress to the next section. 

“And the streets, they’re all, they’re after fortune. And the sky is painted blind dark gray.”

You change fingering positions, adding more power to the sequence of your strumming as the tune dips before switching back to your speaking voice. “And then the next part goes uhh: But I keep hanging on. I keep hanging on. And on.”

You stop playing again, and Johnny looks at you tenderly, patient but still encouraging you to keep going. “Don’t quit now. It was just getting good.”

“The thing is this is a sort of duet.” You disclose it to him. “I was planning on recording myself harmonizing so that way I could sing the melody over it. I’m supposed to whistle and then it repeats, but I never got the chance.”

“I’ll whistle. What’s it sound like?” He is so involved; there’s no way you’re going to get off the hook now.

You demonstrate, starting high then easing out to a more mediated tone that mirrors the melody.

“Like this?” Johnny reciprocates at a lower octave, matching pitch perfectly.

“Just like that.” You confirm, feeling the unfettered joy in accomplishing this as a unit. It sounds better than it would have if you were still isolating yourself. You revert your strumming back to the gentle form before, repeating the flow of the song when it started. “Now I’m a thousand miles away from nowhere, and the night is turning, it’s turning bleak. Fear comes upon me now, and I feel just like some ill-fated beast.”

As you sing these lyrics, you can sense Johnny lose himself in the heavenly range of your voice, swaying back and forth with you in his arms. He lightly begins to hum the missing harmony, filling the space with even more serenading worship. There is something about the words that speak to him, like you’re addressing him specifically as you sing. He is amazed at how you’ve managed to capture the disparity of the setting in Night City while carving out your own oasis of hope at the center of it all. The poignancy of your poetry warms his heart as he begins to treasure this gift you’ve created for him more than anything he’s been offered in his entire life.

This effectively quells the nerves forming within you, giving you the strength needed to finish it. You increase the authority of your strums just before the next verse, maintaining that exertion all the way through. In turn, you also raise your voice to sing louder. 

“But I keep hanging on. I keep hanging on. And on.” As you finish this line, you turn to look at him, giving him the cue to whistle just after you. He does. Both times, still swaying back and forth to the beat.

Now, this is where the finale comes in. You have memorized the outro down to a science, looking directly at Johnny as you belt these lines directly into his heart. “Now I don’t have much to offer. I thought that was plain to see. Explain, I’m just an unbeliever, and I believe you can count on me.”

Johnny recognizes the repetition of the following lines, singing the words in unison just as you did before. He exceeds the expectations you had when giving him the directions simply for the whistle. He proves to you that not only was he listening, but he was also learning. Learning the sound of your love and committing it to memory, making the venture to add his own improvised backing vocals. “If you keep (I’ll keep) hanging on. Just keep (I’ll keep) hanging on. And on.”

You whistle back and forth to each other a total of eight times, ending the song as if you’ve always known how to play this tune, a professional musician at heart. Johnny almost didn’t want it to end, adding one extra whistle when you finally stopped strumming. The silence hangs in the air for a few beats as the tune reverberates through the space before fading away. 

Johnny presses his lips to your neck, dragging his mouth along your jugular in appreciation of your song. He continues to kiss you, trailing up your jawline until your lips meet. The scruff of his chin rubs against yours as his mustache molds to your upper lip. He parts your maw with his, slipping in a playful swipe of his tongue behind your teeth before pulling away to look at you. “You’re gonna perform it for me again on my birthday, right?”

“That was my original plan, yes.” You humorously quip at him before lunging forward to place a smooch on his lips again. “Before you foiled it.”

“Spoken like a true mastermind.” He teases you for your terminology, making you sound akin to a plotting villain trying to execute world domination. “So, that means you’re not opposed to playing it for me again, are you? Seeing as you need the practice n’ all.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” You shimmy out of his hold, standing on both feet and placing the guitar strap on your shoulders. You lean towards him, hovering above his face as each word you say subtly collides with his lips. His hands linger on your hips, giving you a possessive squeeze.

“No.” Johnny admits sarcastically, his mouth grazing yours as he voices a response. “I’d love it.”

“Here goes.” You step back, straightening your posture in order to regain some of your stage presence. “No intermissions this time.”

“No intermissions.” Johnny repeats you, grinning like a giddy fool all the while.

“I’ve been wandering through

“This dead city

“With the devil’s voice inside my head

“And the streets they’re all, they’re after fortune

“And the sky is painted blind dark grey

“But I keep hanging on

“I keep hanging on

“And on

“Now I’m a thousand miles away from nowhere

“And the night is turning, it’s turning bleak

“Fear comes upon me now

“And I feel just like some ill-fated beast

“But I keep hanging on

“I keep hanging on

“And on

“Now I don’t have

“Much to offer

“I thought that was plain to see

“Explain I’m just an unbeliever

“And I believe you can count on me

“If you keep (I’ll keep) hanging on

“Just keep (I’ll keep) hanging on

“And on.”

On this second and uninterrupted run of the song, Johnny can pinpoint the meaning behind the lyrics, envisioning the path you’ve traversed to get you to this point and able to truly feel that they were written for him. He never expected that such an unbreakable bond would be forged so contemporarily. Despite being completely synthetic, his heart holds a beat just for you. This song is likewise a proclamation of love. With every breath, you declare the very promises you’ve made to him. This attachment proves to be more than enough to carry you for the rest of your days, no matter what the future may hold.

Johnny closes his eyes after a few verses, removing his sunglasses and hooking them on the collar of his muscle shirt where they rattle against his steel dog tags. He crosses his arms and leans into the bench, fully relaxing now. Your voice acts like his own personal siren hymns, giving him a revolutionary depth of gratitude for you as well as a window to look into your euphonious tastes.

His chest rises and falls as he breathes, letting you know the levels of tranquility he is achieving. You conclude the song, setting the guitar down to climb next to him on the bench with your head beneath his chin. He unfolds his arms, wrapping you in a delicate embrace while easing you into his lap. After a while, your breathing has become synchronized, but it doesn’t last long as he begins to hum the song in its entirety, over and over again. 

“That’s like a lullaby.” Johnny caresses your face, stroking his thumb along your temple when he stops humming. “My own lullaby.”

“Happy birthday.” You shrug, thankful that you actually managed to perform for him without a violent and humiliating crash and burn. “Do you like your gift?”

“You tell me.” Johnny’s rhetorical answer strikes you when he taps a few buttons on the console built into the bench. It is a playback of your song through the PA system from start to finish. He must have initiated the recording sequence when you had your back turned to pull the guitar’s support strap over your shoulders. 

With a blazing glimmer of your pupils, you activate the Hud embedded into your Kiroshi optics, discovering that a new file is occupying the saved music section amongst your internal storage. Now, you both can listen to it whenever you want. He sets it to repeat, holding you a little tighter.

“I love you.” The words fall from your lips so easily, floating directly into his mouth like a golden stream of honey.

“I love you more.” He accepts your decree as law, abiding by it as if it were a holy commandment from the divine.

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