Night City. Son of a b1tch. Maybe you are too. Jackass.

A merc with a messed-up brain, a tumor lurking like a bad joke. You’ve had it with this day. A rough one—another on the street. Bruises still fresh, and in your mind, Evelyn in that damn bathtub, plans with Goro, endless chases, the never-ending hum of cyberware under your skin. Trash in the alleys, smoke in the air, the city’s scent—sinful and toxic. You twisted the cig in your fingers, the embers matching the flickering lights of the skyline. Fumes and building exhaust slapped your face as you sat on the window edge, staring down. The city buzzed below like a robotic ant nest—climbing to the skies like Babel, only for you to laugh bitterly. Who needs God’s wrath when the city’s already falling apart?

It might’ve been funny if you weren’t an overcooked grenade of irritation, exhaustion, and frustration, stewing in the stink of takeout and regrets. At least Johnny shut up for once. Only to be replaced by River. It was supposed to be a chill night. You know, cuddles and shit. But it ended in a big argument. About what? Hell if you know—everything and nothing, and it got messy. You didn’t mean it, and neither did he. Still, it left the air heavy, suffocating.

You ran a hand over your face, letting out a tired sigh. The shower was running—he hadn’t left. You stared ahead at the holo-ads plastered across the skyline, eyes stinging but refusing to water.

Footsteps. Then the weight of him behind you. His lips brushed your shoulder—a kiss, quiet and steady.

You didn’t react. Not immediately. Just kept staring at the city that mocked you. You didn’t react.

“City’s louder than you tonight,” River muttered, voice low and rough. He leaned on the edge beside you. "Guess that’s saying something." You don’t answer. Not yet. But for now, the quiet sits a little easier.