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Never Fade Away: Makes Me Feel Better (ch. 35)
🕑 Added 2023-08-07 15:12:46 +0000 UTC"Time for a ghost story, cowpokes. Not any old ghost story either - if you don't already know, let me tell you about what people are taking to callin'… the Ghost City.
Busan.
A city in Korea, four million lives… snuffed out in the Fourth Corpo War. Most fingers point at Militech, but thing is… it was a virus that killed Busan. Lab grown. The United Korean gov still has locked up in quarantine. One Corp in particular specializes in… biotech. And it ain't Militech.
But why am I bringing all this up? Well… Some Korean detective found some sat-images showing the Ghost City of Busan… being awful active for a dead thing.
Plenty of theories floating around, like how it's all just robots and automated systems and whatnot, but no one really knows what's going on in Busan, and deets have always been sparse on what exactly happened there...
Now, since we're tellin' ghost stories, here's Phantom 309 by Red Sovine.
~
Fear was a funny thing. Like everything in life, you could get used to it. Same way poor dumb ass gonks could get used to corpo propaganda being shoved down their throats to the point they didn't even notice it. Like you could with drugs, booze, and even pussy -- it took more to reach the same highs as before. Or the same lows, Johnny supposed. The point was, that you could be so afraid that anyone else would be pissing all over themselves but, to you… being afraid was normal. It was reality. You were so submersed into it and it was all that you ever knew.
Muted horror. That's what Johnny felt as he looked at a huge guy spazzing out, bleeding from his nose and ears. Red was the only bit of color in the sterile room with kids lined up for execution. They just didn't see the gun pointed at their heads. He did. I did? Johnny couldn't tell. Was this a dream? A memory? Couldn't be one of his but it sure did feel like a fucking nightmare.
"Rebel," Johnny demanded, feeling himself trying to swallow the rage down. Not himself. Couldn't be. He got sick of swallowing down the rage so he spat it all out into the mic. "Nothing's going to change unless you make it change. Don't look away from it. Stare right at it. Don't fucking flinch." The rage was building, a twinge of other emotions becoming a jumbled mess.
The self restraint broke. Johnny felt it. Even as the kid lashed out for the first time, finally having enough of the shit being shoved down his throat, the kid regretted it. He knew he fucked up. The sweet sound of the death of his tormentors wasn't worth what would come next.
"Better to die on your feet," Johnny tried to tell the kid as the memory played out. He watched on through the kids' eyes. The confusion had lessened significantly -- at least in the sense Johnny wasn't mistaking the kid for himself anymore. The degrees of separation were more defined, but there was still a connection. Echos of echos of emotions as the kids gathered themselves up for war. For freedom.
The human race was a stupid and unruly species. He always suspected it. One look at history would confirm as much, but he never saw greater evidence of it than what he saw before him now. The context was largely missing, but he knew what he was watching -- labrats that existed to further the corpos bottom line were drawing lines in the sand. Children who didn't even know what freedom was were craving it and were willing to die for it. Willing to kill. It was a lost battle before it even began, even if everything went exactly according to plan, they still would have lost. Damn kids had no fucking clue what they were stacked up against but he was rooting for them all the same.
They made the best play they had -- one gets out, so they could come back later to break out the others. A desperate play, but the only one that they had. The kid fought his way out and Johnny was there every step of the way. Fighting his way out of the cage he grew up in until he reached the hover car and…
Night City. The asshole of America… and home sweet home. The very sight of it made Johnny feel ill, and he was down right spoiled for choice for reasons why -- the massive fucking tower of adverts that rose up into the sky. The sea of neon below, filthy streets that were worse than they ever had been. 2023 hadn't been a good year for Night City, but it was practically paradise to what he was seeing. Above all else… Arasaka Tower. The building he fucking nuked stood taller than ever.
Yet, to the kid… a kid that only knew fear and white walls?
It was the single most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Not that he dwelled on it, Johnny saw as the memories leapt forward. He saw some faces -- some gonk named David who was shaping up to be a cyberpsycho with how much chrome he was chipping in. Becca -- she was a real firebrand. Johnny liked her. Lucy reminded him of Rogue. Stern and icy demeanor, but Johnny was willing to bet money that she was a damn freak in the sheets. They showed him the ropes and L got his feet underneath him.
Focus. Johnny, despite what many might claim, did know a thing or two about focus. To him, it was that feeling when he had to play. A song was in his heart and he would spend hours, days even, strumming at his guitar and trying to get that song out. To put what he felt into words, to let the world know. L cranked it up to eleven and then some.
All there was to him was the mission. That singular goal of getting all those kids out of that hell. Fashion? Didn't need it. Fun? Unnecessary. Taking a moment to kick back and fucking breathe in the acidic smog filled air? Every moment that he didn't dedicate to their escape was a moment wasted.
"Fucking moron," Johnny told him, his tone scornful. L was a goddamn robot for all his flesh and blood. All there was to him was that singular focus. His dedication to the kids. He killed remorselessly because they were just in the way, uncaring and unfeeling of everything he trampled to get what he wanted. "Live your life. Get drunk. Get laid. Fuckin' live, love, laugh."
L didn't. He didn't grow. He didn't mature. He got meaner and scarier, but he was still that punk kid that escaped that cage. And nothing changed that. The goalpost just got pushed further down the line -- first it was gangs. Then he started throwing down with Arasaka. Even seeing that couldn't endear L to Johnny. It couldn't. Not when Johnny felt the dispassionate way L killed and butchered. It wasn't personal to him. Arasaka was just in the way.
And now…
And now Johnny was looking at L, who got more bad news. He was dying even more than before -- Johnny Silverhand was a goddamn nuke in his head that was going to blow. He was a cancer that had to be cut out. It made Johnny sick to his stomach but what made him more ill was the fact L couldn't give a damn. No. That wasn't it. It was…
How was death supposed to scare someone that spent their entire life terrified?
It wasn't bad ass. It wasn't nova. It was fucking sad and it made Johnny want to cry just looking at him.
"I saw some of your memories," L began to conversation, his tone guarded. Johnny felt an echo of his uncertainty. He couldn't say he was a fan of that. Felt like his own. "Sorry about that."
Johnny scratched at his cheek. An apology. If it was him, he'd be putting iron in his mouth and threatening to pull the trigger if the intruder didn't get out. And if he refused, he would have opened a back door in his skull. "Suppose the road went both ways. Got the highlight reel of your life too." Sad as shit as it was. "Bet mine was more exciting." Hard not to be.
L made a noncommittal grunt, turning to face him fully. "What exactly are you wanting to talk about? How to get you out of my head?"
"Preferably. Don't want a meat suit that's going to spoil the moment I try it on," Johnny deflected. He ached for a smoke. Or a drink. Or a guitar. L was clean cut. So devoid of fun that he didn't breathe anything worse than Night City air, though Johnny was pretty sure that was worse than tobacco. "Looking around at this sci-fi shit, I'm thinking you could cook something up for me-" Johnny paused as he looked at L.
His finger was tapping. Johnny's stomach clenched, twisting itself into knots.
That was his habit. When he wanted to play the guitar but didn't have one, he'd tap out the tabs.
Fuck.
"We have a year, or thereabouts," L said, turning away from him and starting to undo the thing he had been building. They might share a brain but Johnny had no clue what the fuck that thing was. "That gives us some time to work something out. Could try cloning you a body. I could hack the Relic to get those nanites to stop attacking my brain, pop the chip out then pop you in a new body. Shouldn't be too hard." Doubts. There was the slightest delays, but Johnny felt them. L had his doubts about that.
"That easy? A bit of plug and play?" Johnny asked, watching L as he tried to come to terms with that. Was it really that easy? Fifty years was hell of a long time when it came to tech development. Cloning organs had been a thing for decades by the time Johnny started running through livers like they were shoes. Could people of tomorrow clone people now?
"Cloning isn't that advanced," L said as if he had asked that question. Had he heard it anyway? "To my knowledge, at least. Clones are brain dead upon completion. Something about the complexity of brains, I think. But I could probably improve upon the tech and the Relic should do to that brain what it's trying to do to mine. Not sure if I could call you alive, but you would be independent. And out of my head."
Calm. Like a serene pond without so much as a ripple insight. So used to swallowing shit that he didn't even think to spit the taste out.
"T'ill then?" Johnny asked, trying to imagine it. He all too easily recalled his death -- strapped to a chair, Soul Killer placed on him as Saburo Arasaka monologues in the face of a mushroom cloud. A hard memory to forget. Following that up was years of a state between consciousness and being asleep. Just aware enough to know that time was passing by. And now… well, calling it a second chance at life would be a fucking stretch, but it was something.
"I focus on more important things," L dismissed, taking apart the thingamajig with practiced ease.
"Arasaka," Johnny knew, leaning his head back to look up at the ceiling. "You killed the king." The admission didn't come easy. Before, if he got a second lease on life, he would have said that he'd continue the fight. Blow up 'saka Tower again. Preferably with Saburo in it.
Frustration. Borderline anger. "They're not dead."
"Maybe not, but it seems to me you got the second best thing. So, crack a smile. It might kill you, sure, but you're already dying so why does that matter?" A flash of fear. More uncertainty. All of it swallowed down by that laser focus of his.
"If you have something to say, then say it. You're already living rent free in my head. Don't pussy foot around like a Nancy." Even as L said the words, Johnny could tell he was disquieted by them. He didn't talk like that.
Johnny talked like that. "Plenty to say, but none of it is going to get through that head of yours," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. A flash of fear came from him.
Johnny knew exactly who he was. He was always, one hundred percent, completely unashamed of being exactly who he was at all times, no matter who he was meeting. As a byproduct of that, he told the truth and his opinions without any pussy footing about other people's feelings. If they couldn't handle that, then they could fuck off.
So, why did that just change? Why did he try to hide his thoughts and opinions?
Indignation swelled in Johnny. The road went both ways. "Actually, strike that -- I'm already in your head. You aren't the only one that has to deal with your bitching and moaning now. Swallow that shit down and get back to work - killing corpos. That's the one thing you're good at and the only reason I'm willing to entertain this farce." Indignation swelled in L. Or was he getting an echo of what Johnny felt?
"Hm. Then stay quiet and don't bother me," L dismissed him, making Johnny frown. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was being ignored.
"I-" Johnny began, about to fly off the handle, only to pause when the door opened, revealing Kaiden. L was surprised, checking his systems-
"I slipped a bug in your security," Kaiden admitted. "I figured you'd come here when you woke up so I had a notification sent to me."
L frowned while Johnny just laughed. "How'd you know I'd be here?" He asked, sounding a bit put out. To that, Kaiden simply scoffed as he entered the… Johnny wasn't even sure what to call it. But he spent most of his attention on Kaiden. He was a mainstay in the snippets of memories that Johnny saw -- looked pretty different now his skull was the right shape, but it would be a lie to say that he knew the kid well. All the same, Johnny could say that he had some respect for him.
A rebel. A real one. One grasping for a better life when he didn't even know what laid beyond that room.
"Because I've literally known you for every day of your life," came Kaiden's dry response, taking a seat on the desk that L was working at. "I know what you do when you're feeling the pressure. Like you did when we planned to escape. You played that circuit game all hours of the day, repeating the same puzzle again and again."
L looked away to focus on taking apart the thingamajig. "I had to get the time down."
"You did," Kaiden agreed. "When you feel the pressure, you just buckle down and work." That about sums it up, Johnny thought.
"You should listen to your friend. He's smarter than you are," he chimed in, only to go ignored by L. Prick. Dumb brat thought he knew everything and no one knew better than he did. It reminded Johnny of himself when he was that age, the difference being was that he actually had known better. And at least he had fun when he was self destructing.
L paid him no mind and simply grunted a response, proving Kaiden right when he continued to break down the doohickey. "There's a lot of work to do."
"There is," Kaiden agreed. "Which is why I didn't tell Jack or Becca before I left." That made L's hand pause for a brief moment, a flash of shame and regret that was quickly pushed aside. "We still have Yorinobu. Jackie left after dropping him off, but he said he wanted a word with you if you got the chance after you woke up."
Yorinobu. The rebellious son of Saburo. A poser rebel, as far as Johnny was concerned. It was easy to play the part when daddy dearest was playing with the kid gloves on. As much as Yorinobu might claim it, he hadn't been fighting in the trenches against Arasaka. Not like he had. No one fought Arasaka like he had.
"Arasaka is gone," L muttered with an edge of bitterness. "I'm not sure what good he could do for anyone now. I imagine that Saburo punished him for his treason."
"Yup. Locked and emptied his accounts, and without a megacorp with his last name on it, he's kind of useless. He says that he still has funds, though -- he always expected that his father would do something like that eventually." Kaiden agreed before pausing a moment. "Families are weird."
L nodded, "Families are weird." A pang of longing. Anger. Resentment. "It doesn't feel right leaving him in the wind, though. It didn't go to plan, but I think he hated his dad more than we did." Impossible. No one hated Saburo Arasaka like Johnny Silverhand did. And that hate ran both ways.
"I feel the same. I floated the idea of him picking up the pieces that Saburo hadn't sold off, but he was pretty against the idea. The only people happier about Arasaka's banishment would be Militech. I think they're planning to take Night City now that Arasaka's gone." Kaiden said, handing L a wrench that he needed it and he wordlessly took it.
"But I'm still here," L replied. For now. "I'll remind them why that's a bad idea."
"You're here for now," Kaiden said, echoing Johnny's thoughts. That made L freeze in place. You'd think Kaiden just pulled some iron on him with how he reacted. "I know," he continued, his tone telling L exactly what he knew about.
There was a long silence that was only broken by L setting the wrench down. "How'd you find out?" He asked, his voice neutral, but Johnny felt an echo of the panic that L felt. He was less bothered throwing down with Smasher. Another enemy of Johnny's. An enemy that L killed.
"Because I know you," Kaiden answered with a small shrug. "You never mentioned how close you were to dying when you checked out our medical records. That tipped me off that you didn't want to talk about it. Add that to the nose bleeds… and your power… something like that doesn't come without a cost, L."
A sigh escaped L as he half fell into his chair. "The additional brain matter produces charges, and those charges end up manifesting as tumors in my brain. A handful of them, and it's fine, but the more I use it…" he trailed off before his gaze flickered to Johnny. "The Relic is helping, ironically enough. It's healing the damage that they're doing." There was a flash of suspicion that L felt but didn't say, but his eyes flickered to him again. An action that didn't go unnoticed by Kaiden, who looked at Johnny.
A frown tugged at his lips, "...L, are you seeing someone there?" He asked and Johnny… Johnny wasn't sure what he felt, but it wasn't anything good. He was invisible. A figment of the imagination of a snot nose brat that didn't know shit about shit but was convinced he knew all about the world he needed to know.
"Hm. Silverhand. He's kind of annoying," L confessed and Johnny flipped him off.
"Right back at you," Johnny retorted.
"He's very annoying," L corrected and Kaiden's frown deepened. "I'm working on it."
Kaiden's gaze flickered to the GN Drive, his expression doubtful. "I trust you, L. If you say you're on it, then you're on it." Johnny saw it -- he didn't believe him. L didn't, who just nodded, feeling a pang of relief that Kaiden had bought the lie so easily. "And it's not going to have any side effects? You have someone stuck in your head."
L frowned and offered a small shrug, "Not as far as I can tell." More lies. "Except I have a weird craving for cheese and chips." Fucking nachos. God, what he wouldn't give for a small mountain of them.
"Nachos?" Kaiden offered and Johnny thought that said a lot -- Kaiden had been in the world for a fraction of the time, but he knew it better than L.
"Is that what they're called?" L muttered before shrugging again. "Well, beyond wanting nachos, I'm not seeing anything serious. Vik said that it would take some time for any bleed through to occur."
This gonk. "That was assuming you were a real boy, L. But you aren't, are you? No taste in music, no sense of style, no hobbies, eating the same damn thing day in and day out -- you're a blank canvas and I'm splashing all over you." Johnny stated and L didn't so much as twitch. He suspected it too. That's why his guard was all the way up. "You need to work your magic and get me the fuck out of here. There can only be one Johnny Silverhand and a sequel is never as good as the original." The very idea of it rubbed him wrong like sandpaper in all the wrong places.
Infesting another human being, taking their body like some kind of snatcher from a flick. His personality overwriting L's, killing him as a person before taking his body. It made him sick to his stomach. Even the prospect of a super power couldn't entice him -- especially since it was killing him.
Johnny's nausea went ignored and the answer did seem to reassure Kaiden a bit. "Sooner than later, right?"
"Right." To that, Kaiden thumped him on the shoulder before getting off of the desk.
"I'll leave you to it then. I'm off to check in on the kids," he informed and L felt another pang of longing that was swallowed down. "They're doing alright. Pissed to hell and back that they didn't get to throw down with Smasher, and I'm pretty sure some of them have wisened up to your game. I'd expect some trouble from them if I were you." That got a genuine sigh from L as Kaiden headed for the door.
Johnny watched him go, “He’s a good friend.” He remarked, feeling… not fucking jealous. Nostalgic, he supposed. Long were the days when he had friends he could count on. The ones that he could trust with the heavy shit. Ones who didn’t need words to hear what went unsaid. The corpos saw to that -- first with the war, then one by one when the PTSD, radiation, and experimental drugs took them.
L wasn’t special in that. He wasn’t the only lab rat.
“He is,” L agreed, staring at the GN Drive- fuck. He knew what it was called now. What the fuck? “I’m feeling something. I want to play something,” L said, deciding to look back at him with a pinched expression. “Is that you?”
It was. “I’m itching to play the guitar,” Johnny admitted… wait… if he was just a figment of L’s imagination… then…? Johnny looked down at his hands and static blurred between them before his guitar appeared. That got an honest smile out of him. “Fuckin’ nova,” he remarked, strumming the strings.
L listened for a moment, “That’s not helping me.” He pointed out with some frustration.
“Don’t give a shit. It’s helping me,” Johnny dismissed, continuing to play. L watched him for a long moment, his lips thinning with displeasure before he turned around and queued something up in that weird microwave of his. It came to life with a flash of light and- what the fuck? Was that a fucking shrink ray?! His playing stopped, gobsmacked as L casually pulled a guitar from the microwave.
“Teach me,” L demanded, and Johnny knew it was a demand because it sure as shit wasn’t a request. Johnny cocked an eyebrow in response, and L chewed on something for a bit, wrestling with it. The truth, he suspected. “I’m… I don’t have any control over my charges. I can’t force them to work. With what’s happening to me… It might be that I just can’t use my power to save myself, or it might be because I don’t feel the pressure yet. I’ve never really cared if I died. It… it was never about me. It was always about them,” L confessed, giving Johnny pause.
That was depressing as fuck, he decided.
“If I’m going to get you out of my head, it’s not going to be for my sake,” L admitted, looking down at the guitar and stuming the stings. He saw how Jonny was holding his and decided to do the exact opposite. It was genuinely hilarious to see -- he was trying to play a right-hand guitar with his left hand with his prosthetic doing the strumming and his flesh-and-blood hand doing the fingering.
“I’ve never taught anyone how to play,” Johnny told him, caught a little flatfooted. It went right for the throat, which shouldn’t surprise him since that was L’s style. Directness. L was trying to save him. A cancer in his head, who he just met, and… A selfless act in place of a selfish one.
“I don’t care,” L dismissed the issue with a thoroughly indifferent shrug. An olive branch.
Fuck.
“Alright. Don’t go thinking you’re going to be half as good as me, but this here? That’s the fretboard…” Johnny began, rambling off what he knew. He was self-taught, so he didn’t know much about the technical stuff, but he knew a damn bit about playing. L listened attentively, nodding on occasion…
And, if Johnny had to admit it, there were worse people whose head he could be stuck in.
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