#anyway i hate that they basically erased kerry's bisexuality

[romvnova]

Introduction & Chapter One: Destruction

Kerry Eurodyne. Bisexual Icon. Night City native. A rock legend world renowned.

…Yet, he is haunted by loneliness. Plagued by a trail of failed relationships weighing him down like chains of his past. From his never-was boyfriend Samurai leadman Johnny Silverhand, to his ex-wife to a slew of on again, off again boyfriends and girlfriends.

Until he meets Atlantia Bakker, of whom he hired to be his personal assistant; still trying to fill that black hole of a void ever present in his chest.

Desperate to feel anything close to resembling friendship ….at best, a business companion.

Desperate to feel anything at all.

Her friends all told her not to take the job. But you don't just turn down a job offer by Kerry Eurodyne … and you especially don't if you're a closeted Samurai fangirl.

Atlantia is given the opportunity of a lifetime but Kerry is determined to wreak havoc on the pedestal she's put him on. To show her all the sides of him: the good, the bad and the ugly.

A slow burn as to which where it'll go? Nobody truly knows.

( A shameless Wattpad link because updates will be posted on Wattpad first. )

TRIGGER WARNINGS: vulgar language, subtle hints at suicide, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, sexual themes ( in later chapters ) and mentions of violence. Please read at your own discretion.

Today we mark the anniversary of the attack on Arasaka Tower and remember the lives lost in this tragedy. Carried out by rockerboy, self fashioned rebellion and terrorist Johnny Silverhand —

With a small half angry grunt, Kerry reaches for the remote and switches the channel on the TV, going back to his concoction of alcohol — a mixture of several different hard liquors, his goal to get blasted drunk and having no consideration to how awful the flavors would mix ( if it didn't burn his gold plated throat on the way down he didn't fucking want it ) — and an assortment of neon colored pills.

One for ... well, he didn't know.

Or maybe he did know but couldn't be bothered to care.

Ariel'd left them the last time he'd spent the night.

A quick study of the muddied drink, the smell strong even in his disgruntled state, lifting the glass.

"To Johnny fucking Silverhand. May the bastard rest well in cyber hell!" Kerry declares, rising the glass in toast. The clips of Samurai flash, causing nostalgia to coil tight in his stomach and his breath to stutter in his throat. "...my best friend." He murmurs; quieter still. A breathy whisper, as if he spoke it at any more of a volume the ghost of Silverhand would hear him.

He brings the glass to his lips and downs it in a one swift swig. He does not taste but the alcohol warms and then burns.

"Ah, fuck, that's disgusting." He slams the glass down on his bar, the empty house echoing his own voice above the din of the vids of Samurai's last gig crackling thru the houses' speakers.

He grabs another round of liquor bottles and pours another random and haphazard slew into his glass.

The vids pause and Kerry's concentration is broken, fingers absently curling 'round the assortment of neon colored pills as his holo feed rolls from the front gate of his house.

"Mr. Eurodyne?" A face shows up, at first distorted before she takes a few steps back. Not the voice that matches the tentativeness in her soft, lilting voice. Aphrodite pretty. No, that was too fucking cliche.

Helen of Troy pretty. Siren-esque facial features, eyeliner sharp enough to cut a man, hair a mixture of neon and pastel pink, pilled into a sloppy bun on her head.

"Eh? Wha-what? Who're you? Whaddya want?" He asks, finding that the strong mixture of alcohols — the highest proofs he could find — have muddled his thought process. If there was any sort of familiarity in her face it was heavily addled. Mixed up with the swim of the world 'round him.

It's a struggle to focus on her facial features, watching as her body posture shifts from confident to uncertain; the soft bite of her teeth on her bottom lip.

It was meant to accompany the soft furrow of confusion in her brows, a soft birdlike cant to her head, straying tendrils of her hair wound out from the bun brushing her neck in the hot north oak breeze.

But fuck if Kerry didn't feel it stir something within him. A small spark of arousal and ... something else. Something just as equally as primal.

The first time he'd felt much of ... anything ( similar or otherwise ) in so very long. It lends a moment of clarity, as brief as a hummingbird's lifespan, but enough to allow recognition to dawn as she speaks, "It's Atlantia. Atlantia Bakker. Your new personal assistant?"

His personal assistant.

Another attempt to fill the empty, echoing loneliness that haunts his every fucking moment. In this house. In Night City.

Ariel had been a whim decision too and that decision had bit him in the ass. Betrayal. Differences that could not be worked out. A good fucking riddance where ache was supposed to be.

Kerry gives a grunt in lieu of a verbal response, fingers tightening 'round the neon pills; deliberating.

"I believe you had suggested that I start today?" She offers it like a suggestion, a question; pinning it on herself instead of pointing out that he'd forgotten. He appreciates it, even if it doesn't the lessen the feeling like he was an ass.

"Right. Right. Buzzin' you in." He leans against the bar, leather Moto jeans feeling a bit too tight, fussing with the wrinkles in his white tank top; fighting the swim in his mind. His thoughts race 'round and any attempt to catch even one of them is met with a disappearing act like smoke slithering thru his fingers.

"Hey, you wanna a drink?" He asks, turning to face her as the sound of her footfalls grows louder, quickly chucking the neon pills he'd had cradled in the cup of his palm into the trashcan under the bar.

She was dressed what Kerry would've called 'office casual' in his day: black straight legged slacks and a burnt orange silk blouse and black ballet flats. Over her shoulder is a black leather strap of a small backpack which she deposits upon the right side of his couch as he gestures for her to take a seat and tells her to make herself comfortable.

The data pad she clutches to her chest as if it were her lifeline makes Kerry wonder if she was nervous.

It feeds the monster of his ego and he clears his throat as he reminds his hazy brain to keep this business and not act in any way that might give her the wrong idea.

Though she was fucking pretty. He'd have to be a utter gonk not to see it. Not to admire subtly, at the least.

She declines his drink offer politely; spurring within him the thought that Johnny would've immediately pinned her as a corporat and would've hated her prim and proper mannerisms.

"I know we've, uh, discussed starting today ... but let's make tomorrow your official start day, yeah? Today's a bit fucked." Kerry takes a seat across from her, staring at the sloshing muddied liquor in his glass; leaning forward to sit it on the coffee table between them.

His desire to down it has quickly dissipated.

"Ok," Atlantia agrees, which causes Kerry to shift uncomfortably in the leather couch. Of course she agreed with him: he was her boss. But ... that wasn't what he wanted. Not really. He yearned for companionship in a desperate attempt to fill the giant fucking crater left inside him with the death of Johnny.

"Hey, uh. I know I'm your boss but ... none of that yes, sir gonk shit, ok? Just be honest with me." Kerry watches as she nods in agreement, fighting the sinking feeling that she wasn't going to.

An awkward silence stretches and the more it yawns on, the more Kerry dreads that she's going to quit. That she'll decide that this is ... that he is so much more than she signed up for. She could've been a PR for any celebrity and yet, she'd chose to apply for to his ad.

More and more, he feels his fingers itching to down the alcohol.

"Tell me about Samurai," Atlantia says suddenly, her attention trained on the vids, still paused. She looks at him, the unnatural gold of her Kiroshi optics startling. She pauses when he doesn't reply immediately, watching as she shifts in the leather, leaning towards him slightly. "Tell me about your time in Samurai. About you. Whatever you're comfortable sharing."

The change is almost dizzying. No, it was dizzying.

Or maybe that was the copious amounts of alcohol Kerry'd already consumed prior to her arrival.

He hated everything about this fucking day and if he could drink himself to sleep before the shit hit the fan: the better.

"You can learn anything you want about me in the scream sheets." He reminds her.

"No," She offers a wiry smile; mirthless. "I want to know the real Kerry Eurodyne. Not the one the scream sheets have made up."

For a moment, Kerry feels something inside him slip; words bubbling up his gold plated throat, threatening to spill from his lips. He stops them. He does not let her honeyed words, the unyielding pierce of her gaze lure him into spilling his guts to her.

His image was perfectly and meticulously curated and he didn't know her at all. Certainly no where close enough to let his guard down.

"Ask me tomorrow. Maybe then I'll tell ya." It was a lie as it slips betwixt Kerry's lips; but to his relief it appears to have appeased her.

At least for the day, for she dutifully does not bring it up again, not even when he walks her out to the front gate, an exchange of holo numbers given and a promise that he would be in touch.

A lie too.

#second conflict #kerry eurodyne #cyberpunk 2077 #fanfiction #au fanfiction #not v #samurai #anyway i hate that they basically erased kerry's bisexuality #also on wattpad #wattpad fanfiction