Chapter Text
Another gig wrapped up, some dingy hole-in-the-wall bar Johnny swore would be a solid joint to play at. Kerry tried to not act annoyed when—like always—their only audience had been the underpaid bartender, the resident alcoholics, and a few skittering roaches, they played for themselves, for their message or something, that’s what Johnny preached anyways when he wasn’t high off his ass.
Kerry was getting ready to roll out, head to his usual spot to grab coffee and a bite to eat when a hand slapped him on the back, “Ker! Hey- listen man,” Johnny, because of course it was. Kerry sighed quietly to himself, turning to face his best friend who just grinned sideways at him, “yes Johnny?”
“If I didn’t know any better I’d say you sound pissed at me Ker, but that’s impossible, anyways I got this thing I’m going to tomorrow, you joining?”
“This thing? You gonna elaborate or..?”
“It’s a street race. Yknow one of those hella gory ones where they smear each other ‘cross the pavement. Stop being a priss Ker.”
Of course Kerry knew the ones, heard about them all the time on the news and on the streets, brutal shit, lucky if more than one team actually finished the course in one piece.
He just gave Johnny an odd look, “you race now too? Really can’t stick to one thing can you Silverhand?”
His best friend scoffed, “course not dumbass, like watching them, placing bets, shit like that.”
“Seriously blowing edds on races Johnny?”
“Cmon it’s fun! Just this one, my guy is racing tomorrow night!”
“Your guy..?”
“You coming Ker or not?”
“…fine.”
The sun was setting the next day when Johnny and Kerry got to the spot where the race was starting, it was just outside Corpo Plaza, according to Johnny the race was going to go straight through the city center and prime traffic, in Silverhand’s own words, “this shit’s gonna rattle the corpos!”
There was already a decent crowd gathering, the demographic you’d expect at something like this, junkies, hookers, and gangoons, basically Samurai’s target audience at this point.
Johnny seemed chummy with enough of the people gathering on the road side, a few of them stopping to greet the rocker and eyeball Kerry like he was some trophy on a shelf in a way that had his skin crawling.
His best friend seemed completely unbothered, dragging Kerry through the crowd to the barriers that had been placed on the edge of the sidewalk to get a good view, the raven-haired man grinning the whole time, “wait till you meet my guy, dude’s a fucking beast Ker.”
“You keep saying that but you won’t explain shit Johnny.”
“Just be patient!”
It was close to midnight by the time the racers actually showed up, most of them were gangers, Tyger Claws, Maelstrom, 6th Street, even the Mox made a show, teams of 3-4 people per vehicle. It seemed any vehicle was fine, there was a jet black Thorton Merrimac for Maelstrom, the Mox were driving a suped out Quadra Type-66 680 TS, neon pink in color, the Claws were riding in a Mizutani Shion, colored with bright blues and oranges in a tiger pattern, and the 6th Street had chosen an armored up Chevillion Emperor 620, painted with the NUSA’s flag stamped on the hood.
Ker nudged Johnny beside him, “so who’s your guy?”
Johnny scoffed, “he ain’t here yet. Prick loves showing up late.”
“Now who does that remind me of? No wonder he’s ‘your guy!’”
“Fuck off Ker.”
As they were talking a man popped up beside Johnny, a wide grin on his face, “Johnny Silverhand! Betting on your usual man I bet?” The man’s eyes landed on Kerry, “and who’s your friend? He a betting man?”
Kerry’s best friend reached into the pockets of his leather pants, taking out a wad of crumpled eurodollars and shoving them into the man’s hand, “yeah, the usual Jim.”
The man—Jim apparently—took the cash with a nod before looking at Kerry, “and you? Any bets?”
Kerry shook his head, “nah, here at Johnny’s insistence, just here to watch.”
“Suit yourself!” And then the eccentric man was scooting back into the crowd.
Kerry gave Johnny an odd look, “who..?”
“Jim Jarry, he ‘oversees’ these events, handles bets and clean up.”
“Huh, okay.”
It was 15 minutes later when Kerry was jostled out of his thoughts by a Quadra-66 tearing round the corner, stopping with the other cars and right by the concrete barriers, the vehicle was a beast, jet-black and chrome, heavy armored with two machine guns integrated into the front bumper, military grade tires made to eat bullets and keep rolling.
Johnny practically started buzzing with excitement when the beast rolled up and Kerry guessed this must have been ‘his guy,’ and given the way the rest of the teams glared at the vehicle nobody was too excited to be on the track with the tech marvel.
The driver side door raised up to open, and Kerry wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting but it certainly wasn’t the man who got out of the Quadra.
First, he was tall, easily 6’2 or taller, well muscled too, his forearms and hands completely chromed out with sleek black prosthetics, along with his neck from collarbone to jaw.
His hair was a dark brown, combed back out of his face, even if a few strands fell astray, paired with stubble mottling his squared jawline.
His eyes were robotic, inhumane, their irises a stark, luminous white, clearly military-grade implanted optics, and his skin was almost a sickly pale, like he was a robot with synthetic skin stapled on carelessly.
Those eerie eyes surveyed the crowd for a moment, like the man was assessing for threats, before he found Johnny and he grinned, teeth reflecting the neon lights of the city too cleanly.
He walked around the front of his vehicle, “Silverhand! And here I thought you’d lost faith in me!” The chromed-out man said, leaning against the barrier, forearms resting on the concrete.
Johnny crossed his arms, “you could try showing up on time V.”
The man—V—shrugged, “nah, can’t be confused with these gonks can I?” He said, nodding to the 5 other teams waiting by their cars, before his eyes moved to scan Kerry, “new face, who’s your friend?”
Kerry tried to not shiver under the scrutinizing gaze, like V was sizing him up, but Johnny just grabbed his best friend’s shoulder, “this is Ker, his first time so put on a good show V.”
The chromed out man grinned wider, the expression bordering on a snarl, “of course Silverhand, just for you and your friend,” he said confidently, eyes sweeping over Kerry, “don’t blink or you’ll miss it.”
The blond hated the way his skin crawled at that before the uncanny man stood straight and walked back to his car, doing a final sweep over the beast’s systems.
Kerry turned to his best friend eyes wide, “how did you meet this guy?!”
Johnny shrugged, “V? Oh yeah, he’s ex-Militech turned Edgerunner. Rogue hired him for a job, met at the Afterlife.”
“You being friendly with a corporat? Who are you and where is Johnny?” Kerry asked snidely, his friend rolled his eyes, leaning against the barriers, “please, V’s not some corporat. You saw the guy, Militech chromed him up, shipped him out, then got rid of him when he served his purpose. He hates corps more than I do Ker.”
“Didn’t think that was possible,” the blond said sarcastically.
Johnny just shoved his friend playfully with his metal arm, “yeah just shut up and watch the race. They’ll have drones followin’ them,” he said, pointing to a screen projecting nearby on a concrete pillar supporting the highway above them.
After a few more minutes Jim Jarry hopped over the barriers, jogging over to the middle of the road between the two lines of cars, “we about to start! Everyone ready?! Ah, too late to back out anyways! Strap in! Pray to your gods! And get ready to go for pay dirt!”
With that the racers all got into their cars, including V who was seemingly going solo unlike everyone else who had a team.
“Rev your engines I wanna hear that CHOOH2 burning!”
The roar of the vehicles was deafening, the ground beneath Kerry felt like an earthquake was starting, the rumble vibrating his very bones, and as he glanced to Johnny beside him the man had a borderline maniacal grin on his face as he watched the vehicles rev to life.
“3! 2! 1! Go!”
With the countdown from Jim the line surged forward, just past the announcer leaving nothing but dust in their wake as they blew by.
Kerry and Johnny both turned to watch the screen as the drone followed the racers. The event immediately getting off to a rough start as Maelstrom and 6th street crashed into each other, their gunners dumping mags into the rival’s vehicle, ricochet taking out the Maelstrom driver, sending the black Thorton Merrimac careening into the median with a deafening crash as metal bent and the gunner was sent flying out the window, viscera splattering over the asphalt in a way that had the Maelstrom behind Kerry who were watching the race crying out in outrage at lost bets.
V stayed in the back as the other’s clashed with each other, skillfully swerving around lose pieces of debris as they flew back and it wasn’t very long before the Mox slammed into the Tyger Claws’ Mizutani, the sport car swerving unsteadily as the driver tried desperately to get control of the vehicle.
At that moment V hit the gas surging past the Claws and slamming the heavily armored bumper of his Type-66 hard into the Mox’s 680 TS, sending the hot pink vehicle careening onto its side, colliding with the Mizutani Shion and sending both teams off track into oncoming traffic on the opposite side of the highway.
More cries and cheers erupted from the crowd around Kerry and Johnny, Johnny himself basically started leaping up and down with that shit-eating grin on his face at the carnage.
With the Mox and Tyger’s out of the race now, it left only V and the 6th street team still riding steady in their armored Chevillion, their gunners firing steadily at the tank of a Quadra steadily gaining on them, the bullets bouncing off the armored windshield.
The route took them around a sharp turn into the huge traffic circle that made up Corpo Plaza and the Chevillion barely made it around the turn while V’s Type-66 seamlessly drifted past, easily overtaking the armored truck.
The race took them around Corpo Plaza, swerving through oncoming traffic and back around towards where the race had started for the final stretch but by then V’s lighter Quadra had easily blown out the hulking Chevillion Empire.
The two vehicles shot down the street with screeching tires but at the last minute V slammed on his breaks and as 6th street flew past him he slammed hard into their rear right tire, the force knocking the armored vehicle off balance and off the side of the road into one of the corporate buildings lining the street.
With the last team out more members of the audience cursed in outrage and Jim moved to the front of the crowd, “by elimination we have our winner! V!” Just as the blacked out Quadra Type-66 roared past him, its driver slamming on his breaks and drifting to a stop just past the finish line.
Those who had betted on the merc cheered and Johnny grabbed Kerry, shaking his best friend viciously with a grin, “cmon! That was a show Ker!”
Kerry just stared blankly at the Quadra, unsure if he actually had enjoyed watching the gory race that had been like a modern gladiator fight. V purposefully eliminating some poor gonks for no reason other than a body count had his gut turning but he reasoned that it was simply part of the sport, all of the contestants knew the risks when they got in their cars.
V got out of his car as Jim distributed the bets appropriately, and Kerry watched as the man popped the hood of his vehicle with a furrowed brow leaning over the engine as the crowd dispersed, satisfied with the gore of the race.
Johnny hopped over the barrier, motioning for Kerry to follow him as he walked over to the hulking Edgerunner as the man stared at his engine with attention.
The man glanced up at the pair, “enjoy the show?” He asked flatly, uncanny eyes drilling into Kerry as they approached.
Johnny grinned, “I always enjoy winning. You were vicious out there choom.”
“Hm, client wanted those 6th street guys gone. Just doin’ my job,” the brunette said with a quiet groan as he seemingly noticed something wrong with his car, “fucking leaking again?!”
Johnny smothered a laugh, “wanna grab drinks at the Afterlife? Me and Ker ain’t got nothin’ better to do. Right Ker?”
Kerry froze at the prospect of further forced proximity with the chromed out mercenary but steeled himself quickly, Johnny would never stop giving him shit if he chickened out right now, “yeah, right. Nothing better to do.”
V straightened up, “would love to chooms but I gotta meet my client and take my baby to the garage for another repair, hit that fucker hard. ‘Nother night?”
Johnny groaned, “you and these fucking clients man-“
“Hey it’s your input that won’t get off my ass ‘bout these gigs. Tell Rogue to fuck off.”
“I’m good. I like my dick in proximity to my balls.”
“Yeah, well then drinks will have to wait,” V said, slamming the hood of his car down with a huff before throwing a grin and wink at Kerry, “make sure you tag along pretty boy.”
Then he was back in his car and tearing off down the road, leaving the two men standing there, Kerry’s jaw basically on the floor while Johnny gave him a bewildered look, “I didn’t think you were his type.”
Kerry glared at him, “absolutely not! He makes my skin crawl!”
The raven-haired man just laughed, “relax man, V’s chill.”
“I just watched him stack up like 16 bodies Johnny!”
“All part of the game!”