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[rebelsamurai]

[ Amidst the impressive technological marvels and distractions present on the ship, Johnny found it impossible to resist the allure of commandeering the network for a brief moment. While he's no deckhead or with a fancy BD strapped to his head, Johnny at least knows how to work a camera. This is why everyone is getting a good view of the scowling rockerboy as he puffs smoke directly into the camera.

Yeah, he's smoking again already. Don't ask how he got his hands on another e-cigarette. It probably involved a five-finger discount and a lot of schmoozing. Despite being such a complete asshole, Johnny is at least charming.

He's a charming little parasite. ]

Okay, chucklefucks. [ He mutters before taking another drag on his cigarette. Smoke billows from his nose as he exhales, resembling an angry demon/oni graphic on his tank top. ] Let's have a little talk.

Where the fuck are all of you from? Half of y'all look like your average Joe, while others look like wannabe supermodels who just walked off a Jinguji photoshoot.

[ Johnny lets out a chuckle as he brushes some ash off his cigarette. ]

So, who wants to go first? State your name and where the hell you're from.

Comments

[rebelsamurai]

Are you a Cali chick, Vinny? That might explain why the Texan in me likes you.

But seriously, did you find anything useful at the library about this damn ship? The Theorem is like one big ass sci-fi mystery.

[mikoshi]

Course I am. Name two states that've had a greater impact on American culture.

Define useful. Found a bunch of shit about the ships I'll be repairing, as well as other stuff that was interesting.

[rebelsamurai]

Texas. The states wouldn't know what the fuck good barbecue is without Texas.

Listen, I know you're good with your hands but fuckin' around with spaceships is a whole other story.

[mikoshi]

Now now, don't understate California's impact — breaking beyond social mores and barriers, being greater than the sum of your parts... that's Cali, baby.

I know. Which is why I'm doing research. Starting small, with the spaceship equivalent of a Thorton, not a fucking Militech Chimera. Have some faith in me. Think I've earned it by now.

[rebelsamurai]

Careful, you might piss off an intergalactic Texan rockstar.

The only way I’ll be able to trust you is if I’m present, observing you as you experiment with this new shitbox. I want to see what you'll do with it, but I also want to make sure you don't blow yourself up.

[mikoshi]

Pissing you off all by my handsome self is in my job description.

Fucking rich coming from the guy who acquired fissile material. Let's worry about me when you see a suspiciously heavy gym bag, alright?

[rebelsamurai]

I wish you would fuck me by other means, you gonk.

Nah, I'm going to stay right there and make sure you don't turn us all into space dust because you wanna tinker with intergalactic bullshit. Besides, I might be the only bastard in the universe to miraculously come back to life after nuking an entire city block.

Clearly I got luck on my side.

[mikoshi]

You know this is a public BBS, right? Just wanna make sure you're okay with that before we dial up the PDA

So you think your luck is gonna save us if I make an engine go supercritical? Don't even know if these little shits are nuclear. Everything looks electrical so far.

[rebelsamurai]

C’mon, we’ve both seen worse shit happen public. I’m not scared if some little shitlord sees us fucking around. Not like I have to worry about the screamsheets out here in the vastness of space.

Vince, there’s no fucking way this ship is electric. It has to be nuclear powered or something far more renewable and reliable than nuclear energy.

[mikoshi]

Yeah, but this clearly ain't Night City. Haven't seen a single plastic dildo thrown on the floor, or joytoys earning their eddies right in front of my katsu noodle bowl

Bob, I said so far. You're right, no fucking way the big ass ship we're all in is electric, but that doesn't mean the tiny ships sitting in the hangar are running on nuclear

I don't fucking know is what I'm saying

[rebelsamurai]

Bob? Who the fuck is Bob? Definitely not me. I don’t know a Bob, Vinny.

[mikoshi]

And who the fuck is Vinny? My name is V [ We're irritating! ]

[rebelsamurai]

Go fuck yourself, gonk! Hopefully when you fuck up with your new shitbox, you’ll only kill yourself.

[mikoshi]

Nah, YOU'RE gonna fuck me tonight, like you promised — my turn to bounce on dick. And when I kill myself again you're going down with me, cause that's just the way of things — I'm the yin to your yang

[rebelsamurai]

Is that right? I guess I better clear my calendar, huh? I definitely don't want anything getting in the way of some planned R&R.

Already plotting to kill me? Shit, I'm starting to think we're husband and gonk.

[mikoshi]

[ It feels as if they're speedrunning a relationship — but then again, how many couples can claim they've soulbonded with their partner, biologically and metaphorically?

"Because it's not like you're hearing voices. You're both yourself and Silverhand, simultaneously." ] You proposing to me, Silverhand? [ A formality at this point. If destroying a man's greatest enemy wasn't the wedding ring, then what is? ]

[rebelsamurai]

[ Talk about killing the mood, Vinny. Johnny takes a sharp breath once he reads the text. While he honestly detests the commercial idea of marriage and being owned by someone thanks to some stupid ring, he isn't against the actual concept of marriage. At least, he's not against the original concept behind such a union. They should rethink their approach before things escalate, but it may already be too late for that.

Johnny knows how V feels about him and vice versa. They're two halves of the same soul at this point. They've merged in such a way that they can still hear the ghostly echoes of each other's thoughts. It's freaky, very freaky. Johnny had never had this kind of connection with anyone before. It used to scare him but over the long months, he stopped being scared of V and realized that he needed him.

They both need each other. ]

Fuck. [ He takes longer than it seems necessary to text back. His thoughts are spiraling out of control. ]

There's only one Mr. Silverhand, you know? Just as there's only one Mr. Tanaka, though I'm open to finding a middle ground.

But that shit will have to wait until after we figure out what the hells going on.

[ So yeah, that wedding ring is definitely happening someday. But they need to get their shit together while on this spooky-ass spaceship. ]

[mikoshi]

[ Part of Vincent is disappointed at the rebuttal — leaves him feeling shamed, as if he miscalculated somehow, a scary thought. Does this mean they're drifting apart once more? Becoming different people, or different enough what they feel for each other will change? There's a desperation in the pit of his stomach at the possibility of losing Johnny once more, but this time not to circumstances out of their control, but rather to their own actions, which is worse.

But another part, the pragmatic solo, understands. There are more important matters at hand than a white wedding. ] Okay. [ Uncharacteristically succinct. But he's not going to admit he's at the edge of crashing out over a 'later' rather than a 'no'. Embarrassing. Get it together, Vincent. ]

[rebelsamurai]

[He can almost feel the disappointment behind that “okay”, and he can’t help but mentally kick himself for it. However, they don’t get the luxury of planning a wedding just yet. Not when they have this weirdo space odyssey happening but it’s definitely not a “no” in Johnny’s book.

But how can he prove that to Vince?]

So, what’s it going to be?

[Wait, what is he talking about now?]

Silverhand-Tanaka or Tanaka-Silverhand?

[mikoshi]

Johnny.

[ He knows exactly why Johnny is asking this. ]

It's okay. Jumped the gun. Let's just drop it.

[rebelsamurai]

No. You didn’t jump the gun.

I’m just—shit, maybe we should just talk in person. I don’t want to admit how I feel over text like some shitty input. Fuck that, not with you.

I’ve already fucked up one too many relationships with my bullshit. So let’s just…talk. In person.

Text > Action

[mikoshi]

Okay. Hangar.

[ What the fuck is going on with his emotions? It's all the manic depression of teenagerdom with the spiraling of young adulthood. Unsightly. Ridiculous.

As Vincent paces around his ship, zipping up his bright orange utility jumpsuit, he wishes he had an actual cigarette. Nicotine would calm him the fuck down. Throwing himself into Arasaka Tower, one against hundreds? Who gives a shit.

But talking to Johnny about whatever this is? Sends his whole body into a shake. ]

[rebelsamurai]

[ One might assume that confronting a gun would be more terrifying than dealing with V at this moment, but Johnny would actually rather face that than engage in this discussion. He struggles to articulate his feelings, often masking them as righteous anger. In fact, a part of Johnny finds it challenging to understand his emotions after years of being emotionally cold. Yet, here he is, making his way to the hangar to undertake the daunting task of discussing his feelings before a man who truly loves him.

It's like he's being sent to the gallows with blades pressed against his back. He's so fucking scared right now that he brought back the shades. Classic Silverhand tactic 101: don't let them see the fear in your eyes. Those dark brown sunglasses come in handy in a pinch and this is a huge pinch. ]

Vince.

[As soon as he catches sight of the orange jumpsuit, he calls out to him. His tone is neutral for the time being. No malice, no anger, nothing of the sort. Johnny is trying his best to hide his emotions for now.

However, that doesn't really last when a smile curls onto his lips.]

I see you couldn't help yourself. You just had to start tinkering away, huh?

[mikoshi]

It's too clean. [ Vincent rubs at his oil-stained fingers with a rag, twisting the fabric atop his nails. Always seeps there, hands reeking of garage for hours — he always reeks of motors and metals no matter how clean he is.

Makes sense for a man who has more in common with an engine than a human. ] Needed a personal touch. [ Needs to tell a story, which cannot develop without experience. But you couldn't rush that in the Badlands and can't rush it here either. People see through inauthenticity like no other.

Doesn't mean one shouldn't try. Painted in a thick brushstroke, ink black as night outlined in shining white, a kanji lies drying. ] Can't save the world if you don't look cool.

[ They're both dancing around the subject. Fine. Let Johnny have his shades, Vincent his quips. They'll get to it when they get to it. ]

[rebelsamurai]

It's definitely too clean. [ Johnny agrees with a hint of a smirk on his lips. While he never been the one for chitchat, Johnny can't help but fall into this easygoing conversation with a smile. After all, he genuinely enjoys V's company. Maybe that's why he's so scared about fucking everything up. ] A little too clean for Night City's living legends, that's for sure.

[ He pauses when he sees the kanji. Johnny's Japanese may be a bit rusty, but he's had recent practice thanks to the gonk next to him, so he lets out an amused chuckle. ]

Death, huh? [ He gives V a glance from beneath those dark shades. ] Now who's trying to look cool here?

[Johnny mumbles while giving Vinny a playful elbow in the ribs.]