In 2077, braindances weren't just entertainment — they were a way to jack into someone else's life, to feel every beat of a story a BD star had lived through.
So far, the only thing Vash had sampled was Judy's own dreamwork — Island of Doom. If he was going to work with Evelyn's material, he needed to experience a real black-market BD first.
He lay back on the operating chair while Judy moved around him, hands quick and practiced, tweaking settings and checking the rig.
"V, since you've never run a traditional BD, we'll start you on a sample." She said, "Once you're used to the ride, we'll switch to Evelyn's."
When Judy called her full name, Evelyn's eyes flickered for a heartbeat — then she smoothed her expression back into that cool, polished mask.
"Okay."
With everything dialed in, Vash let his breathing slow as the system pulled him down into a light, floating sleep.
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A burst of white.
Then Vash was someone else — hands tight on a cheap pistol, nerves buzzing, about to stick up a corner supermarket. Beside him, another robber muttered instructions like they were talking about a routine errand.
"It's simple. Stay cool. Don't get fancy." The guy said, "You go in, grab the cash, get out. We sell the recording to those studio freaks."
"Got it." Vash answered, voice rough in a throat that wasn't his.
"Once you're inside, make noise. The hotter it is, the more they pay. Now move." The man tapped his agent, running something that killed the store's cams.
Vash racked the slide, stepped out from the corner, and walked straight through the doors. He snapped the gun up and shouted, "Nobody move!"
The muzzle alone did the work — screams, frantic shuffling, people dropping into crouches with their hands over their heads.
He aimed at the cashier and yanked a bag free with his other hand, "Now. Cash in the bag. Try anything and I'll put you down!"
The cashier shook so hard his hands looked boneless, stuffing bills from the drawer into the bag.
Vash registered it with a detached kind of disgust. A robbery… his first — and, if he had anything to say about it, his last. This was bottom-feeder work, the kind he'd never do on his own.
Then the door slammed open.
Armed security flooded in and opened fire without a word.
In a real BD, you didn't get to "decide" you were good at combat. You didn't get to pull out your own reflexes, your own instincts. With nothing but a small handgun, the robber body was shredded under the barrage.
Gunshots tore through the store, sound turning into impact — into heat — into sudden emptiness.
The character died on the spot.
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Vash jolted out of the BD, his whole body shaking. He knew it had been a recording — pixels, signals, synapses — but the sensation of dying still kicked his nervous system like a boot to the ribs.
"V, breathe. Deep and slow." Judy said, steadying him, "It's normal."
His vision snapped back into focus, and her face was right there — close enough to count the fine details.
"Slow breaths." She repeated, "Your cortisol and adrenaline spiked hard, but the hormone blockers I loaded are doing their job. You're fine. You're alive."
Vash rubbed his brow, exhaling shakily, "That… was awful."
"Rest a minute." Judy said, "Then we'll run it again in editor mode."
BD editor mode was different: you stepped outside the experience and watched from third person, like a sandbox — angles, overlays, sensory tracks, all laid bare.
Once he'd replayed the robbery in editor mode and gotten the hang of the interface, it was time for the real target.
"Hold up." Vash said, as if something had just clicked, "Let's go straight to editor mode."
The braindance Evelyn brought — her private moment with Yorinobu — had recorded everything.
If Vash experienced it full-sense, he'd be riding through a man's perspective at points — crossing swords with another guy. He wasn't interested in that, not even as a "mission requirement".
"V." Evelyn said carefully, "Each segment is different. If you skip straight to editor mode, you'll miss details."
Vash looked at her, "Then maybe you should've hired a merc who's into men."
His expression made it clear he'd walk away if she pushed. Evelyn swallowed whatever she was going to say and went quiet.
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In Evelyn's BD editor mode, Vash immediately had Friday copy every angle, every sensory track, every data layer it could pull — clean, complete, and fast.
He watched the "live show" with the detached focus of a pro. Evelyn looked good — no surprise there. Yorinobu, on the other hand, was… underwhelming.
A moment later, Vash pulled out of editor mode.
"V, you should—" Evelyn started.
Vash nodded once, "Save it. I don't take battle plans — I write them."
Evelyn had nothing to say to that. The air turned uncomfortable, and she finally turned on her heel and left.
Vash lingered a little longer with Judy. Then his agent pinged — Sandra's message.
As he started to get up, Judy stopped him, "V. Wait. I've got something for you."
She handed him a pistol: a Militech M-76e Omaha. Purple finish, Mox logo stamped into the grip — no mistaking it. The iconic Lizzie, the piece tied to Susie "Q", the Mox boss.
"This is what they gave me when I joined the Mox." Judy said quietly, "I'm not into violence, so it's never been fired. But… I want you to have it."
She hesitated, then added, almost awkwardly.
"Call it a good-luck charm. Just… come back alive."
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