Although the itinerary data of Director Blackwell was successfully stolen, the kidnapping plan itself failed to move forward.
The man was too cautious.
His daily routes changed constantly. His escorts rotated unpredictably. His vehicles never followed the same pattern twice. There were no blind spots, no moments of carelessness—not even a single opening large enough for Maine's crew to exploit.
In the end, Maine had no choice but to change strategy.
Instead of forcing the issue, he ordered Sasha and the others to dig deeper into Director Blackwell's personal data, hoping to uncover hidden weaknesses—habits, addictions, secrets—anything that could be turned into leverage.
After considerable effort, Kiwi finally cracked Blackwell's private encrypted hard drive.
What she found, however, made her regret it.
She leaned back in her chair, face twisted in disgust.
"Ugh… it's all trash," she complained. "Gore. Violence. Some of it's straight-up cyberpsychosis recordings."
Even for someone as numb as Kiwi—long accustomed to the twisted tastes of corporate elites—Blackwell's preferences were extreme.
After skimming through the files, she added,
"Most of these black braindances are sourced from the same person. A guy named Jk."
In Night City, a braindance was never released raw.
A complete braindance experience transmitted everything—sight, sound, pain, fear, pleasure, even mental instability. Without professional editing, most people would suffer permanent trauma after just one session.
That was why braindance editors mattered.
Their job wasn't just to cut footage—it was to balance intensity with survivability.
Black braindances were different.
They weren't just illegal.
They were unpredictably dangerous.
Some people actively sought unedited, extreme experiences—believing that raw fear and pain made them feel more "alive."
Those people rarely ended well.
"Lucy," Kiwi suddenly said, turning her head, "don't you like braindances?"
"I like moonscapes," Lucy replied flatly. "Not black braindances."
She preferred peaceful immersion—the quiet beauty of space—not sensory overload that shredded the mind.
James, who had been listening quietly, spoke up.
"I know someone at Lizzy's Bar. She might have information about black braindances."
He was thinking of Rita.
James knew a little about Jk, but not enough to track him. For that, he needed someone from inside the braindance circle.
"Lizzy's Bar?" Maine grinned knowingly. "Moxes territory. Best dolls on the street. Didn't know your connections ran that deep, James."
The smile froze halfway.
Lucy and Sasha both looked at him—cold, sharp stares.
James didn't even blink.
"Don't talk nonsense. I've never touched dolls."
And he was telling the truth.
"Tonight," Maine announced quickly, sensing danger, "we're going to Lizzy's. Drinks on me."
Pilar immediately started hooting.
---
Night fell quickly.
Neon lights ignited the streets, turning Night City into a glowing ocean of color and noise.
Inside Lizzy's Bar, the bass thumped like a second heartbeat.
When James explained his purpose, Rita's eyes flickered.
"Black braindances?" she asked carefully, glancing toward the dance floor where Jackie and the others were fully immersed.
She asked a few more questions before finally saying,
"Why are you digging into that mess?"
"I'm looking for someone. Jk. You know him."
Rita's brows rose slightly.
"Jimmy Kurosaki. Yeah, I know him. Real famous."
"So you can help?"
Rita shrugged. "I'm just a bouncer, not a techie. But—I can introduce you to someone who is."
Her lips curved with pride.
"She's one of the best braindance editors in Night City."
James didn't hesitate.
"Then let's go."
Rita called someone to cover her shift and led James alone through a hidden passage inside Lizzy's Bar, toward a sealed studio.
She knocked.
"Hey! Judy, I brought someone you should meet."
The door opened slightly.
A woman stepped into view.
Short hair dyed purple and green. White tank top. Black industrial overalls. Rose tattoos winding across her shoulders and arms.
Judy.
Her eyes sharpened instantly when she saw James. She kept the door half-closed.
Rita spoke quickly.
"Relax. This is BT."
Judy paused.
"…BT?"
Recognition flashed in her eyes.
She'd heard the name—many times. Among the Moxes, James's reputation had grown fast. He completed jobs cleanly, protected their people, and never crossed lines.
And—unfortunately—he was also dangerously good-looking, which didn't help.
Judy stepped back and opened the door fully.
"Didn't expect this," she muttered, studying him closely.
"Talk inside," she said.
Before leaving, Rita shot James a warning look.
"Don't bully our Judy."
James smiled faintly.
Inside, the studio was dim, cluttered with high-end equipment. Organized chaos.
Judy crossed her arms.
"Speak. You here for a custom braindance, or something else?"
Her tone was cool—especially since James was a man.
"Custom braindance?" James asked.
Judy nodded. "Top-tier stuff is custom-only. I usually don't take those jobs. But you've helped our people, so I'd make an exception."
Private braindances were luxury goods, reserved for corporate elites and gang bosses.
Only editors like Judy could make them.
"I'm not here for that," James said calmly. "I'm looking for Jimmy Kurosaki. You know him."
Judy's expression darkened.
"Pervert," she said bluntly.
Unlike Judy's erotic productions, Jimmy specialized in cyberpsychosis content.
"In this city, erotic braindances are tame," she continued. "Jimmy's stuff isn't."
She didn't ask why James wanted him.
"He only works through referrals. No one knows where his studio is. But I do have identity data."
"That's enough," James said. "I owe you a favor."
Judy nodded. "Good. Remember that."
They exchanged data.
James looked around the shelves.
"Got any moon braindances?"
Judy tilted her head. "Why?"
"My girlfriend likes them."
She paused.
"…I don't have any ready. I'll edit some."
Her voice softened just a little.
Men who cared about their partners' preferences were rare in Night City.
James smiled.
"Looking forward to it."
For a moment, Judy froze.
Why does an Edgerunner have to be this handsome…
She silently repeated Evelyn's name in her mind until the feeling passed.
"I've given you what you need. Please leave," Judy said quickly.
James sent her a contact request.
She accepted without hesitation.
He left.
---
With Judy's data, tracking Jimmy became easy.
That night, Sasha pinpointed his routine.
Jimmy liked to visit Embers, Night City's most exclusive club.
Money wasn't enough to enter. You needed status.
But kidnapping a braindance editor was far easier than kidnapping a corpo executive.
The next day—
James stared at the Caliburn luxury car parked ahead of them.
"…Are braindance editors really this rich?"
Lucy's voice echoed in his mind.
"James. He's here."
A tall, slender man approached, face adorned with expensive golden cyberware.
"Jimmy Kurosaki?" James asked.
"That's me. And you are?"
"My name is BT."
Jimmy froze.
"…You?"
He remembered.
He'd seen James before—in a braindance.
He had been experiencing Mark's perspective when Mark was executed by James.
That recording had haunted him ever since.
"Get in the car," James said calmly.
Jimmy didn't resist.
As James started the engine, he casually removed a miniature EMP device from Jimmy's body.
"Good hardware," James remarked.
Jimmy swallowed.
So this is BT…
Even scarier than the rumors.
The Caliburn pulled away into the neon night.
And the hunt moved to its next stage.
-----------------------
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