Cyberpunk 2077: V

Prologue: Chapter 12 - Closure

FOUR YEARS LATER

V inhaled slowly through her mouth, taking care to not let the smoke from the cigarette dangling from her lips get into her throat. She held the smoke for moment, exhaled, and watched it spiral and flicker in the air before disappearing completely.

Judging by the position of the sun, she'd been sitting on the edge of that dry rocky cliff for a few hours as she mulled over her past. The memories were sharp and clear, almost as if V had been reliving them in excruciating detail once again. She tuned back into the present, hearing the whisper of wind through the sand and the quiet sound of dry grass rubbing together. She glanced at the bottle of whisky that sat next to her boot, and huffed without humor.

Bet it's fuckin' boilin' now. Freddy'd hate that.

V wiped the sweat of her brow before tapping the ash off the end of her cigarette, the first and last one she would ever smoke. She reached for the whisky bottle and held it in front of her. It was Freddy's favourite; some cheap gas station concoction that might as well have been bottled gasoline. V pulled the stopper with a small pop! and took a sniff before darting away from it. She had no idea how Freddy drank the stuff; but he liked it, so it would do for what V was doing here.

The cigarette burned to the end, leaving nothing but a little bit of ashy paper and filter as V took the butt and dropped it into the whisky bottle. It made a little hiss! when it made contact with the liquid, and V half expected the thing to explode in her hand. Luckily the bottle didn't ignite, and after a quick sigh of relief V stood, popped the stopper back into the bottle, and moved to the edge of the cliff.

It was here...it was here that V died the first time. Here died the V that still clung to any sort of hope that the Bakkers were her family, and would one day grow to love and accept her for who she was.

V twitched as a sudden memory of Jake's smiling face cut through her mind's eye. She closed her eyes, remembering the way his lips felt on hers. Her hand reached up to her neck, slowly looping a finger under a chain that sat dangling around her neck. V opened her eyes and looked at the old metal in her hand.

Jake's dogtags. The only thing she'd taken of his to remember him by. When she was scared she would clutch at them and feel a surge of strength flow through her.

The breeze kicked up again, harder this time, blowing the worn flannel shirt V was wearing around her bare waist. When she was younger and thinner Freddy's shirts would practically swallow her, always causing him a laugh or two. Now that V was older, the shirts fit pretty well.

V hugged herself then, rubbing her cheek into the soft shirt and closing her eyes. If she concentrated, she could almost swear she smelled Freddy again.

She stood there, clinging to her memories (the good ones at least), remembering every detail of the two men in her life. The two men who'd actually given a damn about her; who cared whether she lived or died. One had raised her, the other had sacrificed his life for her. They saw something in V, what she couldn't comprehend...but had been enough for them to love her.

V took a deep breath and opened her eyes as she straightened, shifting her eyes to the horizon and the warped, barely visible speck that hovered there.

Night City. Her target; her destination. She would never find a way to live a life worthy of the sacrifices that Freddy and Jake had given if she stayed out in the desert, border hopping and running random gigs. Even when she was with the Bakkers she felt unfulfilled; like something was calling to her. Something that told V she could do more; no, that she needed to do more. She didn't have to be some Nomad evicted from her clan and left to fade away into the sand. V had worth.

She was going to change the world.

The resolve settled like a steel cage around V's heart, strengthening her spine. She set the whisky bottle down next to her boot, then gently took off the flannel shirt she was wearing. Taking the shirt, she wrapped it gingerly around the whisky bottle. Then she did the same with Jake's dogtags, looping them around the shirt and bottle. When she was done, she held the items in her hands and stared down at them.

The last pieces of her past; the only things other than the Galena, revolver, and sword that V ever held in her hands that meant anything to her. They were her last link to the V before; the innocent V who had no idea that she was different from her family. The V who, despite all of the hatred she faced, tried to make herself become a part of the clan. 

The V who couldn't be there when her father died suddenly.

The V who had to hold the man she loved in her arms as she watched him bleed out and die.

V's chin wobbled along with her resolve, and before she could sink back into the painful memories, she grabbed the bit of fabric and chain, leaned back, and threw it as hard as she could. It sailed through the air, tumbling, before disappearing out of sight over the lip of the cliff.