[I] psuedo_endo_trizine_1

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If you're not drunk,
Not high,
Not having sex,
Not stealing,
Not scamming,
Not dealing,
The fuck are you doing in Night City then?

If you're not carrying iron,
Or got the best cyberwear,
If you're not in a gang
Or have a few extra pair of eyes on your side,
If you don't have half a billion eddies to your name
Or know someone on the inside literally anywhere,
Might as well flatline yourself.

Night City isn't a place for babies and simple minded people.
Either you corrupt others or get corrupted yourself.
Whether you're a corpo scumbag, a nomad scav, or some streetkid punk,
One thing remains forsure;
In Night City
You either become a legend or flatline trying.

___ ______ _______ _____ _____ ____ _____

Static pierced my eardrums as I finally regained conscious, sweating profusely in my grey muscle tank and some grey joggers, slightly marked with splatters of foriegn blood.

"Good, you're awake," I looked up to find Jackie sitting at the edge of my bed. "Was afraid you'd flatline."

"Why would I? What happened?" I groaned as I rubbed the back of my head.

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Coughing and spitting out a bit of blood never freaked me out. Maybe it should've.

"Relic...corruption..." I read aloud as I coughed.

"You don't look so well, V."

"Jackie..." I spat out a little more blood before my coughing fit ceased. "It's probably a virus or something. I'll go see Vik in the morning and watch, I'll be fine in no time." He frowned as he stood to his feet. "Why the long face, Jack?"

"You're not okay, V. You'll flatline soon if you don't get help."

"I won't flatline. I'm fine."

"Says the corspe talking to a ghost." And then it hit me. Like a bullet to the brain. Jackie was still gone and I was alone in my apartment.

"I see you're no stranger to illusions, granted I am one," as much as I hated his voice that plagued my head, quite literally, Johnny's voice was quite calming after "seeing" Jackie. "When I was alive, I use to hallucinate all the fucking time. Granted, maybe it was from all the drugs and alcohol." I chuckled a bit.

"Haven't smoked in days and I haven't drank since Jackie's....." I left the sentence there.

"Ya know he's right though. Sure I wanted ya dead at first but now, hell, why not make the best of it?"

"I'm 'posed to just live with a terrorist in my head forever?"

"At the rate you're wasting away, we won't be around to see sunrise," Johnny lit up another cigarrette. "I'm already a goner, if I take you down with me then....," he shrugged his shoulder as he took another drag. "You should go see the ripper before you see the reaper." That was the moment something snapped inside of me.

"IF I WANNA WASTE AWAY LET ME FUCKIN FLATLINE, WHAT DO I HAVE TO LIVE FOR ANYMORE?!" Johnny shrugged as he vanished from my sights. I've had it. I threw an empty bottle of beer at the wall, shattering it on impact. And then another. I grabbed my baseball bat and smashed my tv, smashed my windows pane. Smashed the bathroom mirrow and saw my distorteted reflection in the broken shards. Nothing could make me feel calm. Nothing could make me feel happy. Nothing could take the pain away, the sadness away. Nothing....
"Why even bother trying anymore." I grabbed the bottle of pseduos and looked at the destruction I've already caused. "Well, Johnny. Today's your lucky day." I swallowed the pill whole before everything felt heavy and tiring.

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