Never Fade Away: Been Good To Know Ya (ch. 64) (Patreon)

Sorry for missing yesterday -- I spent all of Monday thinking that it was Sunday until I started to get the chapters prepped for 'Monday.'

...

“Oh, fuuuucckkkk…!” Johnny groaned, eyelids butterflying as his eyes felt like they were rolling from the back of his skull. He opened them, just to catch a glimpse of blinding light that stabbed daggers into his brain. It might have been a good fifty years since he had had a hangover, but it was an old hat for him and he powered through while sitting up.

The second thing he noticed was how fucking weird it was to have a body. As a bit of data on a stick, he hadn't felt much of anything. And, when he was in L's meat suit, the sensations had been there but with a delay. Lag time. It was actually more off-putting than having physical senses again -- he expected the cold of the metal table and the gel cushions he laid on to reach him in a second, but it was instantaneous.

“Soo… Uh… my name is Becca. That's Kaiden. L brought you back from the dead for… some fuckin’ reason,” Becca began and Johnny blinked rapidly, getting used to having eyes. He looked over to see the short stack and Kaiden. And V, for that matter. The three of them were watching with a sense of awe and caution. That was also an old hat for him. “He stepped out for a bit-”

Johnny glanced down at himself and frowned, “The fuck am I wearing?” He asked, pinching the paper thin cloth gown he had on. He glanced back up at Becca, “Did he leave me any actual clothes? Because I'm not wearing anything that he'd call an outfit. Cargo pants and fucking flip-flops. What the fuck.” He swore and he saw surprise flicker over her face.

Kaiden responded by tossing him a bundle of clothing that Johnny caught. It was only then that he noticed his left arm. Flesh and blood. He supposed he couldn't be called Silverhand anymore, he mused. Out of everything -- coming back from the dead, living in another gonk’s brain matter, and spending the past fifty years as data -- having his left arm was the strangest thing of all. He had more time with the prosthetic than he did with the flesh and blood it replaced.

“Thanks. And I already know who you all are. L’s output, brother in arms, and a fuckin’ ‘saka ninja. Though, there's no Arasaka now,” Johnny said, getting up and wiggling his toes. The clothes were his style, at least -- combat boots, leather pants, tank top with an old-school Samurai leather jacket. A privacy screen went up, masking their reactions. Well, Becca and V’s. He started getting dressed as he continued, “And I know that idiot went off to pick a fight with a galaxy spanning civilization. And he left me behind.”

That gave him some conflicted feelings.

He had his own meat suit now. He was free. Independent. While he had gotten used to being a voice in L’s head, this was what he wanted since the start -- a chance to get back into the world. He just had to wait for L’s magic to conjure up some miracle to make it happen. Only now the war was pretty much over. There wasn't a need to put his boot up some alien asses. And Arasaka was dead and gone for good this time.

He ached for a smoke. His new body didn't have any chemical dependencies, but he still wanted one. And some tequila. But, his gaze found a reflection of himself on the privacy screen. He almost looked like he did before he died. Almost. The thingamajig- the Furon cloning device, restored a body from a DNA sample. So, he was back in his mid thirties, just without the decades of hard living that added some age to his face.

“Fuck. John, you really brought me back,” Johnny breathed and it just then clicked into place.

He was back from the dead.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he pushed the privacy screen away with a wave of his hand. The hologram vanished and Johnny ideally realized that he knew how to do that because L did. When he emerged, the three of them were looking at him with more curiosity than caution.

It was Becca that spoke, “Okay. So, we can skip about fifty years of explanations for you. How 'bout you start explaining this to us?” She asked, crossing her arms. “Out of everyone in the world, why did L resurrect an old legend of Night City? You're a little late to destroy Arasaka,” she said, cocking her head in a way that felt very familiar.

Becca. Honestly, she was exactly the kind of girl that L needed to keep his feet on the ground.

“Because I've been a ghost in his head for the past couple of months,” Johnny answered and he saw surprise flicker across her face. “He didn't tell you because he didn't want to follow up news that he was dying because his brains were starting to leak out his ears with the fact that my personality construct on tbe Relic was trying to take over his body. Yes, it was fucking stupid. Yes, he should have told you. He's kinda emotionally stunted. And that's coming from me.”

It was strange, Johnny decided, seeing the emotions flicker across Becca's face. He felt like he already knew her. Johnny had closed his eyes and took as many steps back as he could whenever the two were having a private moment, but he had always been distantly aware of Becca. What L felt for her. Becca's expression settled on wanting to throttle L's neck, “I'm going to kill him,” she muttered with a serene kind of murderous rage that was tempered with heartfelt concern.

“You're going to have to get in line,” Johnny started. “I got a peek at what L is going to do. Don't suppose you lot have an extra space ship that L didn't know about?” He asked, though he already knew the answer. They wouldn't. He glanced over the workshop at the fabricators and gizmos.

He knew what they all were. The names and information was bouncing around his skull like a ball. Information. Specs. He didn't have those tumors in his head, but he had skimmed off the top when it came to knowledge. He knew the marshmallow robot was called a Baymax. He knew that the horse prancing around on a desk was a terraforming device that enriched soil and stimulated plant growth. He was pretty sure that he could operate them, even if he had no idea how they worked.

Even before they answered he walked over to the fabricator and tried to tap into it. The first thing he realized was that his body was lacking any cybernetics -- he didn't even have a jack or ports. The second thing that he realized that even if he had either or, it wouldn't have mattered because a picture of his face with a big x through it appeared. L had locked him out of the fabricators. All of them. He had made sure there was no way to follow.

“Is he in danger? Any more than he was when he was punching out an entire alien fleet or attacking an Arasaka base?” Kaiden questioned and Johnny twitched. A ghost of a memory that he couldn't make any sense of made a cold shiver race down his spine.

He found a lump in his throat as he spoke around it, “Probably not. Doesn't feel good to be left behind like this.”

“No, it sure doesn't,” Becca agreed. He looked back at them to see that they were watching him with a much lowered guard. “But that's how he does things. Sounds like you've been getting a front row seat to it, until now.” There was a fond exasperation in her voice. It reminded Johnny of Rogue. ‘There goes Johnny, ranting and raving about corpos again.’ ‘There goes Johnny kidnapping an Arasaka executive. 'There goes Johnny committing some domestic terrorism.’

It was the kind of fond exasperation that told Johnny that Becca was cut from the same cloth that Rogue was. In it for the long haul, regardless of how stupid and undeserving they might be.

“So, we sit down and twiddle our thumbs, waiting for him to get back to sweep us off our feet?” Johnny asked sarcastically, annoyed with the very idea.

“Sweep me off my feet. Get your own input,” Becca said and his mind leapt to a name and a face. Rogue. The Queen of the Afterlife. Might be Queen of Night City too nowadays. His heart squeezed -- Rogue and Alt. Two women that were better off without him. Women that he ruined with his presence. Alt died because of it, and now she was a ghost. An AI. He had no idea if she was still around or not. If anyone could make it beyond the Blackwall, then it was Alt, but that put her pretty far out of reach.

His fingers twitched, aching for a guitar as much as he was a cigarette. “Just might do that,” he said, snagging L's guitar that was already sporting some wear and tear. “Let me know when L get's back. I want a turn kicking his ass for leaving me behind.” He said, waving over his shoulder as he headed out the lab.

It was as the doors were closing, he heard Becca speak up in a whisper. “I'm not crazy, right? That was Johnny fucking Silverhand? What the fu-”

The doors closed and Johnny chuckled. Shuffling the guitar over his shoulder, he took an express elevator up to the ground floor and headed out of Arasaka tower. Never thought he'd do that, but things had changed in the past fifty years.

Night City was a city whose bones were changing. Growing up on the blood and shit stained streets, no matter how much things changed, they didn't really change. Different gangoons might occupy a corner, but the same corners were always occupied. The same cracks in the foundations of a city that was meant to be a paradise were always being occupied by those that found they could thrive in those cracks. Every time he came back from a tour, no matter how much of the city seemed to change, it was only window dressing. Skin deep.

But that wasn't the case anymore. The bones and heart of Night City were being remade. He saw Tyger Claws doing charity work alongside 6th Street. People working together to pick up the pieces of the city. Hell, Johnny saw people labeling their trash for pick up so it could be recycled for the war effort. In Night City, surviving was called thriving and you did that by keeping your head down or looking for an easy mark.

It could just be the high of victory, but people were working together now. They were looking into each other's bowls -- not to see if they had something to take, but to make sure that their neighbors had enough. It was strange. About as strange as walking down the roads, joining the flow of foot traffic, and not being recognized. No one stopped him asking for an autograph, or throwing up some rockerboy horns.

Johnny expected it to be galling. He had snuffed it in a truly spectacular fashion, after all. He’d earned Night City's special brand of immortality. But, he found it more amusing than anything. Even convenient, since it let him arrive at the Afterlife without much in the way of trouble.

The bar was in full swing with mercenary types. Celebrating a win that wasn't really theirs. It was lucky, Johnny decided, striding through the doors, hearing a live band singing some of the classics. If they didn't have an open door policy, Johnny probably would have been stopped by the doorman. He pushed through a crowd of people, heading to the bar, he saw Claire looking right at home as she slung drinks left and right.

Didn't take him long to be served. “Tequila topped with beer with a chili garnish,” he ordered and Claire's eyes widened ever so slightly.

“A silverhand classic. Big fan of his?” She asked, gesturing to her face. To that, Johnny just cracked a smile.

“Something like that,” he answered as she made quick work of making the drink. Given how many gonks he saw dressing up like L, it was easier to believe that he stole the face of an old legend than he was back among the living. Seriously. Fucking flip-flops. L needed to defeat the Council to make up for making those things the new style. Grabbing his drink, toasting his thanks to her, he headed through the bar to the backrooms.

He knew where he was going. And it was only when a single door separated him from his destination that he started to feel a flash of uncertainty. He was about fifty years too late to walk back into her life, Johnny thought as he looked up at the camera. He held up his drink and, for a long moment, he thought he might be turned away.

Then the door slid open, welcoming him into the private room where the VIP booth was. And it was there that he saw her -- Rogue. A little older. A little grayer. But still the same woman as she watched him approach the booth. “This had better be good,” she greeted him with a cocked eyebrow. And that was proof enough that she didn't believe that it was him.

So, he took a seat in the chair across from her, set his drink on the table before unslinging L’s guitar.

And then he played.

He was lacking guitarist calluses. And he was lacking his prosthetic. But the movements were all the same. It felt like getting on an old bike. Slowly, he watched as the amusement and suspicion fade away from Rogue’s face. It gave way to confusion, then apprehension, then outright disbelief. Then, finally, a cautious hope.

“... Johnny?” Rogue breathed, her lips parting and she seemed as stunned as he had ever seen her.

“Yeah, it's me. L pulled a miracle out of his ass and brought me back from the dead,” he explained, his strumming slowing to a crawl. “Spent a couple of months in his head because he was dumb enough to slot in a Relic with my personality construct to free up a hand fighting Smasher. So, I'm up to date on things. He just printed me off a body and went to kick the alien’s front door in.” In hindsight, Johnny realized he was babbling. Dumping information onto her.

Rogue sat there for a moment, simply looking at him like she couldn't believe that he was there. That he was here. Alive and more whole than he had been in years. “I need a drink,” Rogue decided and he slid his over to her. She looked down at it, and it seemed to really sink in when she saw it was his drink of choice. “Out of everyone to be brought back, it was really you, huh?”

“I've always been lucky,” Johnny replied with a stinging and Rogue searched his face for something. What it was, only she knew, and she seemed to find it.

“You were in L’s head? That actually explains some things. He has that smirk of yours. And your anger,” She noted and Johnny looked down at the guitar. It was L’s, but he felt like it was one of his own. That the hours L spent learning were his own time. And L had gotten good in a short amount of time. About as good as Johnny was.

“There was some bleed through. On both of our ends,” Johnny admitted after a moment. It was a strange thought that he might not be wholly himself.

Rogue seemed to consider that. “You seem calmer,” she noted.

“Not sure that's because of L. Arasaka is dead -- for good. Before I got my new meat suit, L and I came back from Jupiter where we put the old man down,” Johnny stated and there was a flicker of surprise pass over Rogue's face. “It's been a busy couple of days.”

Too busy. He suddenly regretted passing his drink along when Rogue bought herself a moment to think by taking a sip. Inhaling that green shit had kicked L's brain into overdrive, and it had knocked down a big wall that had divided them. Johnny did his best to pull back, half terrified that they had ran out of time. That he was going to end up in control over L's body. The wall had started going back up as soon as it came down, but it took time. And Johnny…

Thankfully, Rogue distracted him from his thoughts. “So the old man is dead and L is about to win the war for humanity. What now?” Rogue asked, and the question was only marginally better than thinking about what he saw in his final hours inside of L's head.

“Fucked if I know,” Johnny admitted after a long second. “A lot of changes coming to the world. Might kick my feet up and watch ‘em go by,” He mused and Rogue tilted her head.

“You are much calmer. L was a good influence on you,” She noted, sounding amused. “But you know that's not what I meant, Johnny.” Yeah, he did.

He stopped strumming, his lips thinning. “You had pretty shit taste in men, you know that?” He started, and Rogue just blinked. “Don't look so shocked. I am capable of self-reflection. Just didn't do it much. Never felt the need. But… I'm not here to try to rekindle the past with an old flame. If you had any sense, you'd have forgotten all about me.” Now she looked really surprised, the mask cracking.

He cheated on her. A lot. And he always came back to her because against all reason and good sense, she always took him back. Part of that was because she was a one of a kind woman -- smart, deadly, and great in bed. A bigger part, Johnny knew, was because it fed into his ego. He was irresistible. Unstoppable. A living legend even before he punched his ticket. Before L redefined what that meant.

It was hard to maintain that ego when you were in the passenger seat to a snot-nosed kid that was doing everything you ever wanted to do, but better.

Rogue looked down into her drink. “I wanted to… but I never did,” she admitted and, despite himself, Johnny chuckled.

“Like I said. Shit taste in men,” he said and he found that he managed to get a smile out of her.

“So, you're going to kick your feet up and flirt with an old woman?” Rogue questioned, and Johnny paused before he began to strum again.

It would be wrong to call them memories. They were more like flashes. Snippets of information that hadn't managed to untangle from his head before L popped him out if it. But, Johnny saw enough.

Cities laid to waste by massive cuttlefish. Whole planets exploding. Seas of undead monsters rushing forward, uncaring of their losses. Dry dusty deserts becoming lush green gardens. Animals reclaiming nature. People that Johnny never met before plotting out a course for the future…

“Maybe less kicking up my feet,” Johnny admitted. Then he plastered a smile on his face, “And more flirting.”

Rogue seemed to accept that, relaxing ever so slightly. “In that case, to L-” she toasted him, “A good influence on wayward rockerboys.”

He didn't have anything to toast with, so he just strummed a chord.

“To L -- the savior who can't be saved.”