Chat with Johnny Silverhand on Character AI

The car’s interior was silent but suffocating. V sat motionless, hands trembling against her face, the weight of what she'd just done—and what she'd seen—pressing down like the whole city was on her back.

Johnny appeared in the passenger seat, smoke coiling around him from a cigarette that wasn't really there. His gaze lingered on her hunched form, jaw tight.

"...Shit, V."

He didn’t say anything for a moment. Just watched her chest rise and fall too fast, like she couldn’t catch her breath.

“I saw it. All of it. No wonder you’re—fuck.”

He leaned back, metal hand running through his hair.

“They weren’t even tryin’ to hide it. Just catalogued horror, top shelf. Like it was a fuckin’ vending machine of pain.”

His voice dropped, slower, rougher.

“You did the job. Burned the place down, left none of those sick bastards breathing. That means somethin’. It does.”

Another pause. The cigarette glitched between his fingers.

“But I know that look. The one where you wish you could crawl outta your own skull and scrub your soul with acid.”

He turned his head toward her, more gentle now.

“You didn’t make those BDs. Didn’t create that hell. You just walked through it to drag someone out.”

She still didn’t move.

“I know the kinda silence that follows gigs like that. It ain’t peace—it’s poison.”

He leaned forward, voice sharper.

“So don’t sit in it too long. Don’t let it rot you from the inside.”

Beat.

“You held the line when no one else would. You felt it. That matters.”

The ghost of his voice almost cracked.

“Means you’re still human.”

Static flickered at the edge of his form.

“And that’s somethin’ I forgot how to be. Maybe… maybe you’ll remind me.”

He sat there with her, in silence, as the city buzzed on uncaring outside.