Cyberpunk 2077: V

Chapter 64: The Dream

The table was the only thing lit, the circular beam of light coming from the head of a disembodied lamp that hung directly overhead. The surface of the table was a strange dark red velvet, the color of dried blood. In the center of the circular table lay three tarot cards; they were face down, lined up in a perfect r—

"Oh, you have GOT to be KIDDING ME!" V cried, straining and pulling at the wooden chair she was attached to. "Not this shit again! Can't ya come up with somethin' original, huh? What's the fucking deal with this whole setup? Whatever it is you want, whatever it is you're tryin' to show me, why don't ya just come out aND JUST FUCKING SAY IT??!"

V's words ended in a hoarse, high-pitched, desperate scream. She fought against the strange hold the chair had on her, struggling to pull her legs from the floor. Her hands were free, as in the past, but instead of reaching out to turn the cards over, V swept her arm over the table's surface, sending them flying. They fluttered into the air, then hovered a moment before slowly spinning off into the void, like bits of ash.

Staring after them, gasping with anger and fear in equal measure, V listened. Silence. Nothing but the barely audible hum of the light over her head. She peered into the darkness, baring her teeth.

"I don't know what this is all about, or who's out there or what this even is!" she cried. "But I've had enough! My freakin' subconscious won't even let me alone, but lemme tell you I'm gonna get some SLEEP tonight, you hear me? I don't got time for all of this bullshit!!!"

V struggled again, leaning over to use her arms and hands to pull at her legs, still fastened to the chair by some unseen force. When that didn't work, she began to rock the chair back and forth, and when she found it could move, she took a deep breath, then threw her upper body weight backward as hard as she could. She toppled over, slamming into the ground, feeling the wood splinter and crack under her weight. Despite her best efforts, she felt her head hit the deck too, and she saw stars for a moment before the fear kicked back in and she began to scramble, finally able to move her legs. After untangling herself from the debris, she stood up, chest heaving, quickly looking out into the darkness.

No movement. No sound.

"What, no weird smile, no freakin' demon voice tonight?" V called out, hands curled into fists at her side.

No reply.

Something V couldn't describe welled up in her chest. Words that she wasn't even really thinking of welled up her throat and exploded out in an enraged snarl.

"THERE IS NO FATE, OR DESTINY!" she screamed. "YOU WON'T MAKE ME AFRAID! THERE IS A FUTURE — AND I'M GONNA TAKE IT!"

With a cry, V threw herself at the table, digging her nails into the wood and velvet, scoring long lines into it. Kicking and hitting and smashing, she kept going until the thing was in shattered pieces, her strength making quick work of it. V stared down at it, heaving and desperate and sweaty. Her hands and arms hurt from the mass destruction, shards of wood having sliced open her fingers and shoved splinters under her nails.

The light overhead flickered, and V looked up at it, peeling back her lips. With one last angry cry she leapt up, wrapped her hands around the cable that disappeared into nothingness, and pulled.

She felt the resistance give way, and the light came down. The metal clattered onto the ground, and the last thing V heard was the shattering of glass from the old lightbulb, plunging her into complete and utter darkness.

Then silence, once again.

"How do you like that, huh?" V hissed.

An eerie hum sounded.

V whirled around, hands raised as if to shield herself, terror exploding through her chest at the thought of that snarling smile and pink-red eyes coming at her out of the void. But what she saw wasn't something from the depths of hell.

It was her sword.

It was floating about thirty feet in front of her, the faintest pillar of clean blue light seeming to suspend it in a tube. It hovered, floating gently, turning ever so slowly. The strange glyphs and lights in the unnaturally black blade hummed and glowed, and at the sight of it, V felt relief wash over her. Finally, finally this stupid nightmare was turning for the better — perhaps her subconscious was throwing her a bone. V began quickly walking toward her sword, stumbling a couple of steps before breaking into a run, desperately trying to close the gap so she could get her hands on her black blade, the missing piece of her body, the weapon that felt forged from her own soul.

Twenty feet.

Ten feet.

Five.

V reached out, ready to grab her sword, when she suddenly saw a pair of eyes staring at her from the other side of the pillar of light. With a scream of horror, V slid to a stop, cowering backward despite herself in an instinctive, harsh movement.

But then she recognized the eyes. Recognized the figure that was slowly emerging out of the void.

It was... her. It was V.

V stared at herself in shock and confusion. Was there a mirror? No, the figure, the other her, wasn't following her movements. The other V was just standing there, staring with a strange, blank expression that chilled her blood. V watched her, eyes flickering over her, and realized that she wasn't wearing V's normal getup. Instead, she was in some strange white outfit, her hair pulled back into a ponytail with no Bakker braid. In fact, the longer V looked at her, the more V realized that she looked like... an older version of V.

She swallowed. Glanced at her sword. Felt the urge to reach out and grab it, to feel safe again.

But V froze when the other V suddenly spoke.

"You should've stayed in the chair."