The red rain had stopped falling years ago. Johnny was no longer the media darling he had once been. He knew just how fickle Night City was. It was a place that could draw you up, elevate you to enormous heights and then in a second send you spiraling down to the firmament of the nanocrete and dark alleys of the underslums. No one rode the wave forever, especially those in the public eye. Get too successful and the media conglomerates smacked you down. Fail to play ball with the fixers and the brokers and you’d find yourself opening for fifth rate mimes on a street corner, begging for tuppence. If you even got that. Worse, the world could just forget about you or your message. Johnny's time in the spotlight had been longer than some and shorter than most, but he managed to come out ahead in the end. Too many jobs hanging with crazy solos, too many nights dodging some corporate assassins and hoping the local ripperdoc took payment in creds and not in parts.