Wanna Bet?

[TN:Last chapter of the week see yall next week]

When V opened her eyes again, the braindance wasn't over yet.

The eternal sound of ocean waves still echoed in her ears. But unlike during the day, the seabirds were nowhere to be heard.

She opened her eyes. The stars were densely scattered across the sky, the Milky Way stretched across the heavens. Away from the city, the night was deeper, and the sea shimmered with the reflection of starlight.

It was too quiet.

No pop-up notifications in her field of view, no crackling of static, no humming of implanted cyberware.

"Guess only a virtual world can pull this off…"

A wave of loneliness hit her. V stared blankly at the sky, suddenly realizing she'd lost the ability to think.

"This world actually exists."

Huh?

V turned her head in surprise—and saw Leo was in the braindance too!

Wait a second—seeing Leo made her suddenly unsure if this was reality or not.

This braindance was too pure. Too real!

"Where did you get this? If it's real, then where is this place?"

"Somalia. Off the African coast."

"Sounds familiar... that's Orbital Air's turf, right?"

Leo shot V a helpless glance: in this day and age, the only thing her brain could associate geography with was which corporation owned it.

But he played along and replied, "Yeah. Orbital Air."

Coincidentally, Leo had also chosen to build his base in the Kilimanjaro region, where Orbital Air had its largest launch site.

After saying that, V fell silent, staring at the sky. Then she suddenly cursed:

"Goddammit! Orbital Air's hogging such a beautiful spot and not doing shit with it?"

"Well, technically, they're in the mountains. Not the sea. Bit different."

"Like the Badlands?"

"Better than the Badlands. I'll find you some mountain footage next time. This braindance's about to end. Time to log out."

"Mm." V stretched lazily. "Fell asleep watching again. Your brain dances get weirder every time."

"Hey, could you get me some of those old Soviet vids? Kinda curious."

"Not right now." Leo shrugged. "But I'll find a way. Ever seen snow?"

"Nope. Heard it's like ice falling from the sky."

"I'll show you someday."

Ding—

A long chime signaled the end of the experience. Their senses returned to reality.

And really, there's no comparison—Night City hit them like a punch to the gut. Every corner reeked of oil and chemicals.

And the lights… aside from the rich districts, about 70% of the lights flickered constantly. It was painful.

They were in Jimmy's warehouse now, which had been taken over by the Burger King gang, once his workshop, now his prison.

V wrinkled her nose and sniffed. "Wait… I thought you weren't supposed to stay in a braindance more than 30 minutes. How long was I in this time?"

"24 hours. Every time. Don't bother checking."

"You tryna kill me!?"

Leo replied irritably, "I'm not trying to kill you. But it feels like your brain's not listening to you anymore!"

As they took off their headgear, an annoying voice rang out:

"Those kinds of braindances are either for learning or total garbage—no thrill at all. You should try mine. Ten minutes, and you'll feel something real."

That disgusting voice belonged to Jimmy Kurosaki, the black market braindance dealer.

His face was bruised and swollen, tied to the wall. If it weren't for the clear signs of withdrawal—his twitching, the crazy gleam in his eyes—Leo might've thought he was still calm.

Yes, Jimmy was going through withdrawal.

Powerful braindances overstimulate the nervous system. Over time, that raises your sensitivity threshold. The result? Normal life becomes dull. Without stimulation, you spiral from apathy to depression, then straight into mania. All you can think is: Give me something to feel alive!

Jimmy was a top-tier editor. A good one always tests the raw footage personally—cutting out messy or unwanted thoughts, enhancing the intended emotional impact.

Years of this can really mess with your head. And he specialized in braindances that induced cyberpsychosis.

Leo looked at him. "Honestly, I just wanted to get some product from you."

Jimmy's act instantly collapsed—

"Why didn't you just say so!? Do you know what I've been through these past days!?"

Thirty days. Thirty. At first, he was worried about financial losses. But now, his mind only screamed: Please—just give me something, anything, so I know I'm alive!

The David crew and Jackie clicked their tongues. They remembered how calm and smug Jimmy had been when they first grabbed him.

Guess this kind of guy needs a few days of lockdown to understand what withdrawal feels like.

Then David noticed Lucy staring at him.

"…What?"

"I just realized—you used to watch these all the time, right? No wonder you were always such a reckless idiot."

David turned away awkwardly and stared at Leo.

Leo opened a bottle of Spunky Monkey soda and took a big swig.

V watched him in amazement—he didn't choke at all.

Last time she'd come out of one of Leo's "domestic" braindances, synthetic drinks always tasted off.

But Leo didn't even flinch?

Putting the bottle down, Leo said, "But from what I hear, you've been stuffing unlucky folks with braindances and military-grade cyberware. That's a problem."

"That's just what they want! Like you…" Jimmy paused. "Like you guys!"

Indeed, Leo and V both had military-grade spinal implants. David's was nearly military-level too.

And Jackie? His inhuman strength was already legendary in merc circles. No one knew what kind of implants he had—but they sure weren't standard.

Even Maine, the weakest among them, had two full prosthetic arms—one with a projectile launcher. Those things were military tech, no doubt.

Having the power to crush people like bugs was the key factor for cyberpsychosis. In Jimmy's opinion, at least three people here were guaranteed to snap.

Actually, maybe it wasn't that Burger King liked them.

Maybe it was that they liked Burger King.

Leo raised an eyebrow. A mechanical arm at his waist slapped Jimmy across the face. "I'm not here to chat. You listening or not?

If you don't want the job, plenty of editors will take your place."

"I'm listening…" Jimmy forced a smile.

But inside?

He felt so wronged. Sure, people had sent him footage of some sketchy stuff—but he always turned it down!

Those cyberpsychos probably watched stuff before they got implants—but what did that have to do with him?

These three idiots beat him up for that?

Pretending to be respectful, Jimmy said, "So we're cool now?"

Leo didn't feel guilty at all. Like hell he was gonna buy black-market braindances. That'd make him a criminal!

As a boss, he had to take a stand against this kind of behavior. This was just a warning—and a convenient chance to review Jimmy's content.

"Not quite. Bring out all your original copies of black braindances. I want to verify everything you said."

Jimmy's eyes lit up. His overstimulated nerves suddenly loved this man: So you're into black braindances too, huh? And original cuts, no less!

He didn't even care about being forced anymore. In his mind, Leo would probably die soon anyway. And when that day came, his footage would sell like wildfire!

Eagerly, he said, "Easy! I've got eleven original cuts in the back—my best sellers!"

"Bring them all. I want to watch them now. I'm on a schedule."

Everyone froze at Leo's decisiveness—even the two Soviets in Jimmy's cage.

Black braindances weren't unheard of to them.

As elite mercs, they stayed away from anything that might wreck their combat ability—like neural-damaging entertainment.

But eleven black braindances? Right here, right now? Watch all of them?

Was everyone in Night City this insane?

I don't buy it.

Jimmy's shackles clicked open. Shedding all signs of defeat, he rushed to the safe by his desk.

"The best stuff goes in the best safe. Arasaka-grade. Only someone truly special like you deserves it.

But just to be clear—these originals are extremely stimulating.

What happens next… that's on you."

As he opened the lock, he buttered Leo up with every word—afraid this "big bro" might change his mind.

Every cyberpsycho thinks they're unique. That they'll never snap.

But in the end, no one escapes the curse.

Jimmy presented the discs with reverence—

In his excitement, he blurted out what he was thinking:

"Let's see how long Night City's top dog can last watching these."

Leo glanced at the fantasizing man and suddenly asked:

"How much cash do you have on you? Wanna make a bet?"