"What a fuckin' waste of a fuckin' time," groaned Kerry as they left the Haywards' property.

He took one last look at the old-school garden. It was so hard to imagine that place was packed with spy tech like Lizzy Wizzy with chrome... Kerry wondered if Hayward was watching them at that moment, just to be sure they left. He resisted the temptation to turn around and show the middle finger at the tree to check it.

"Why d'ya think so?"

"I... what?" Kerry looked at V in disbelief. "He didn't tell us anythin'! All he spilled was that 'I dunno, I dunno'!"

"Well, it actually gives us some info," said V thoughtfully. "That Hayward isn't involved."

"You believe 'im?"

V bit his lip.

"I don't know yet. But... he didn't sound like lying to me. It's a bit hard to believe he wasn't curious what was his wife doing, true, yet… I don't think he was screwing 'round with us."

Kerry had to admit that V was right. Everything Hayward said seemed to be true indeed. Even though Kerry was bad at reading emotions and obviously he was neither that skilled nor experienced as V, he somehow could feel Hayward's despair and helplessness. That man only wanted his wife back.

I miss her so much it hurts, he said at the very end.

"Yeah, think so too," sighed Kerry. "Too bad we're left only with that BD label lead now."

At the end, Hayward told them that there were only two places in Night City he could think about which Diane might have visited – Dark Matter and the braindance studio. To save time, they decided to drop the idea of going to the club, because the staff probably wouldn't be able to tell them anything. Maybe Diane Hayward was a regular at that elite club, but Kerry was a frequent visitor too and it was the reason why he knew that discretion was paramount for Dark Matter's owners. Members of the staff would rather allow you to chop their leg off than sell out the customers' privacy. The owners must pay them a lot, Kerry was sure about that. He didn't complain, though. He himself had some little secrets he wished they would never come to light.

Besides, BD label seemed to hold more leads than a popular nightclub.

"Well, we're still waitin' for Judy," said V. "I'm sure she'll come up with something."

There was a hint of resignation in V's voice as he was saying that last sentence. Kerry noticed that V was trying to hide it, but it was clear the merc was starting to doubt the success of this investigation. And that... wasn't very reassuring.

He wished, he really wished they could solve this strange case. If that made V pleased…

Then he would do a lot.

"She will. Just like ya said," reminded Kerry in an uplifting tone, "she's the best of the best, right? If anyone can find anything, that'd be Judy. Also, there's somethin' more at stake for her than just pleasin' ya. Was serious 'bout that invitation."

V laughed quietly.

"Yeah, that helped for sure, glad she's your fan too." V's voice became more cheerful. "Get your ass into the car. We're going to the studio."

"Diane, huh? You really think I tell you anything?"

Ugh. If Kerry could hit that bitch, he'd do that without any hesitation. That woman's confident and cheeky tone reminded Kerry of Kovachek.

When they reached the BD label and asked the concierge to contact them with someone who had worked together with Diane Hayward, the old guy told them to pay a visit to the main – and the only – director. The label wasn't very big, it felt more like a family business, but Kerry was sure it was like that only to not attract unwanted attention of the police. From what V said, Diane's braindances were quite hardcore, balancing between the legal stuff and illicit BDs available on black market, so… There was a point.

The director's name was Jane Doe and Kerry wondered if her parents really hated her that much or she was particularly bad at choosing stage names. Anyway, it seemed she did what she could to appear not that ordinary.

"Wanna ask you 'bout her, that's it," V didn't seem to get rattled. "She's missing and you don't want to obstruct this investigation."

"You're not from NCPD. I don't have to tell you anything."

"Oh, I'm sure you understand the gravity of the situation," said V casually and raised his arm, as if he wanted to scratch his cheek. The steel of his mantis blades glistened in the dim light of the director's room.

"This place is monitored. We've got security."

"I'm willing to try who's faster." V's voice remained eerily calm. Not a single muscle of his face moved.

Jane frowned. She definitely wasn't used to get threatened.

"Okay," she snarled finally. "Whaddya want to know, smartasses?"

"Everythin' that can be useful. Anythin' about her… job here," V hesitated. "We already know she isn't very popular."

The director seemed to relax a bit, she didn't look that pissed off at least. She lit a cigarette and sat down in her chair behind a huge, wooden desk. Kerry noticed it was real wood, not synthetic fake, which would mean the label was profitable.

"Nah." Jane blew smoke into the air and pondered for a moment. "She always wanted the most hardcore scripts, even those that no one accepted, but had one condition. The stage needed to be darkened. Always. Too bad," she continued, "I could make Diane a star."

"How is that a problem?" asked V. "Seen lotsa dim lit BDs."

"My, my, you really have no idea about that business, sweetie." Jane laughed mockingly. "The BDs she recorded… The viewers want a clear image of the person they humiliate. They want to see the face, the emotions. Poor lightning doesn't sell well."

"Why'd Diane want that?" wondered V.

"No idea," said Jane and shrugged. "I don't think she ever planned to become famous. I've always felt she treats it more like a… hobby?"

"Fuckin' moneybags and their weird hobbies," snorted Kerry, loud enough that everyone in the room could hear him.

V coughed a few times, hiding his mouth behind an open palm.

"You ever had any problems with Diane?" asked V, when he was finally able to speak again. "Like, I dunno, bein' late or comin' drunk to the set?"

"Nope," replied Jane without hesitation. "Absolutely no problems. She's the nicest person you could ever meet. Diane's always so sweet to the staff."

Didn't Hayward say somethin' similar 'bout his wife? Kerry thought it would be great to meet Diane Hayward in person, since everyone seemed to talk only good things about her. And then… he remembered the photo in which she didn't look friendly at all. The nicest person ever? Sounded like a good joke.

"Okay." V nodded. "Cool. Are there any other people here we could ask? Any friends of her?"

Jane shook her head.

"Diane's not making any friends here. She only comes to either record or get her eddies. That's kinda weird, if you think about that," wondered Jane. "Angelo would get her the moon if she asked."

"Maybe she needed more than the moon," said V dryly. "When did you see her last time?"

"On Friday. She came here for the first time in three weeks. Wanted cash for 'The Devil Wears Nada'."

Friday?

Kerry noticed the surprised look that V gave him. He immediately knew what V must have had in mind.

According to Hayward, Diane left home about ten days ago and the producer hadn't hear from her since that time. That happened in the past, so he wasn't worried. On Friday, Diane came here to claim her royalties. A day later, on Saturday, Hayward got the braindance showing his kidnapped wife and that was the same day when he called River.

The problem was – it didn't make any sense. Kerry didn't have to be a detective to notice that. He saw the braindance with his own eyes and the girl was obviously imprisoned for longer than one day. Diane looked exhausted, her clothes were dirty and Kerry clearly remembered her long blue hair being all messy and tangled, as if she wasn't able to wash it for a few days at least.

What the fuck?

The silence was interrupted by the sound of V's phone. He glanced at the screen quickly, thanked Jane Doe for the information and waved at Kerry to leave the place.

"Gonna put it on the speaker mode," said V, as they closed the door to the room. "It's Judy. Hiya."

"Hey, guys!" chirped a happy, slightly distorted voice. "Sorry it took me so long."

"Nah, that's okay," reassured Kerry. "You're our sweet lil' angel, girl. Hope you bring a ray of hope."

"Yeah. About that..." Judy's voice became flat.

"Don't tell me…" started V.

"I'm sorry. Have no idea how to crack that BD. I tried, but… I'm not skilled enough. It's a new thing and…"

V and Kerry glanced at each other. That… wasn't good news. Somehow, deep inside, Kerry expected that. It would be too easy if Judy served all the answers up on a plate.

"No need to explain, Judy," said V softly. "You did great and I owe you."

"Maybe you'll owe me even more," she started mysteriously. "Found someone who could help you. Actually, I contacted a techie who invented this whole thing and the guy agreed to meet with you today. Sent him the BD already. And yes, before you tell me I'm wonderful, I know that already."

When Kerry heard the name 'Blue Velvet', he was absolutely sure that Judy directed them to a brothel. Not that it would surprise him, good techies were often hiding themselves in that neon labyrinth to avoid prying eyes. Like, Judy herself had her studio in a braindance club, so this guy – called Sloth – might as well be working in a place like that. However, as they found the right address in Japantown, it turned out to be a music club. The Blue Velvet looked like any other backstreet club in this city: sleazy, stinky and dirty. Kerry couldn't recollect having been here before, which meant the place was either a true third-rate club or he was too drunk to remember. Since the venue was located in the worst part of Japantown, it surprised Kerry that all the windows were still in one piece.

Well, he thought, there was a fair chance they might simply be bulletproof.

There also seemed to be a huge event today, as Kerry noticed a crowd at the main door. It was a late afternoon, so it was still too early for a concert, but… maybe someone famous was about to play and all those people wanted to have the front row at any cost. Kerry had seen such hardcore fans, more often than he would like to. Some of them had no problems with arriving at the club the day before the event and spend the whole night on the pavement, curled up in a ball and shivering with cold. Such gonks should be banned from attending the concerts for life.

"Well, well, isn't that fuckin' preem. Audience is all we need right now."

"How can you be bothered?" mocked V. "You're a star."

"But you're not," cheeked Kerry. "Wanna get the security on your ass while breakin' into? I don't."

Before V even managed to reply, someone bumped into them from behind, so hard that Kerry almost fell.

"The fuck!" yelled Kerry and turned around to call the stranger names. "You…" he started, but all insults got stuck in his throat.

He was looking at his own face.

For a second or two, Kerry was absolutely sure he was losing his mind. There was no doubt it was him, the same hair, cyberware, eye colour and even the freckles were matching perfectly. But it didn't take him long to realise what it meant.

They apparently just met a twin. Someone who impersonates their idols and is dedicated to this to such an extent they even decide to undergo multiple surgeries.

The thing was, copying Kerry Eurodyne's biometric data wasn't legal anymore. After Kerry became "the god of rock", thousands of people of every gender wanted to be like him. It wouldn't have been a big deal if they wanted to get identical tattoos or buy the same clothes. That didn't seem creepy at all, it's normal that people look up to someone, right? But no, that wasn't enough for a group of the most hardcore fans who desired to look exactly like Kerry which, in turn, was a perfect opportunity for crafty ripperdocs. Their services were springing up like weeds which finally made Kerry compelled to put a copyright claim on his biometric data. In addition to that, he signed an agreement with the NCPD to scan for unauthorised replications of his facial structure.

And yet there was a fucking twin in front of them, in the middle of the day, grinning like an idiot. Kerry did his best to fight that overwhelming urge to call the police. Or to smash the twin's face in, at least. It would actually be funny, beat the shit out of himself. Maybe a bit relieving also.

"Whoa!" gasped the twin and pointed at Kerry's throat cyberware. "Cool chrome! Looks so real! Where didya get that?"

Kerry raised his eyebrows.

"Clinic," he replied harshly.

"It works?" The twin's eyes widened. "Man, that must've cost a lot. I have no chance to win the contest at Blue Velvet now…"

"Wha-," started Kerry, but V interrupted him.

"There's always the second place," noticed V.

Kerry gave V a surprised look. What're you doin', kid. What the fuck are you doin'. V looked away and shook his head. The move was barely noticeable, but the message was clear: don't say anything. I'll handle it.

"Not interested in anything below the top." The twin frowned. "They evaluate your look and your singing skills. The closer to Kerry, the better. Get the most points and the trophy's yours."

"Need to register before the contest?" continued V.

"Nah," said the twin casually. "You should have the card they sent you back and that's it. There's a guy who checks it at the entrance. Gotta run, folks, need to check my axe before the big event."

They watched the twin approaching the Blue Velvet club but before entering, the impostor decided to have a smoke. He passed the crowd and leaned against the wall near the corner of the building.

Kerry turned to V.

"Hoo boy, the police'll have somethin' to do here," he murmured and took out his phone.

But before Kerry managed to dial the number, V grabbed his wrist.

"Wait, Ker. We need to talk to Sloth first before the NCDP storms the place."

"I know you're right, kid," sighed Kerry, "but this ain't makin' me happy. Get your ass inside, grill the guy and we're out."

"Actually," started V and let Kerry's hand, "was thinkin' that we both may enter unnoticed. But you have to… enter this contest."

Kerry blinked, not wanting to believe what he just heard.

"You've gotta be fuckin' kiddin' me," he said finally.

"Don't have to perform, Ker. Just get inside and as soon as we're in, we disappear into thin air."

"Can't ya just… Break in and I wait 'ere…" tried Kerry.

V shrugged.

"'Course I can. But I don't wanna get worried 'bout you. Can't do two kidnapping cases at the same time."

Oh.

Worried? He's worried?

"No need to sweat," said Kerry, doing his best to sound as if he actually meant that. "But yeah, fine. Fine. Will do it and will win this fuckery."

"Huh?" V looked surprised. "Win?"

"There's only one Kerry Eurodyne. Gonna show them who's the man. And," he run his fingers through the hair, "then call the police."

Subduing the twin was easier than Kerry thought. V said he wasn't the best netrunner in the town, but he still knew how to mess up with someone's software enough to take things into his own hands. Literally.

Since the twin didn't have any firewall – apparently all the money has been invested into plastic surgeries – the quickhack took only a few seconds to activate. The cigarette slipped out of the twin's hand and fell to the ground. The man didn't move for a second, as if he was thinking about what to do next, but finally staggered towards the back of the building.

"Impressive." Kerry whistled with unfeigned appreciation. "But is my butt really that flat?"

"Hard to tell. Would have to compare them side by side."

V and Kerry waited for a couple of seconds and followed the twin casually, as if nothing happened. As they reached the piles of stacked bin bags behind the Blue Velvet, they found the impostor sitting on the ground, staring at the wall with a blank expression on his face.

V didn't waste any time. He approached the twin and knocked the man out by one fast smack to the head. Then he unceremoniously shoved his hand inside the twin's pockets.

"Gotcha," said V after going over all the papers he found. "There's the card. You can now legally enter Blue Velvet as a contestant and I'm gonna be your manager. Your new alter ego is…" V's eyes widened and his mouth corners twitched as he read the name on the card.

"What? What is it?"

In response, V burst into laughter. He didn't answer, but passed the card to Kerry.

"It's… what the fuck." Kerry winced with disgust as he read the name. "Jerry Dollardyne, the professional impersonator of the America's God of Rock? Seriously? That's all he came up with?"

"Copyright's a bitch," said V and wiped a little tear. "Guess his ripperdoc couldn't copy your creativity… Jerry."

"Shut the fuck up," snarled Kerry and grabbed the twin's guitar. "At least the axe is quite cool, I'd say. Need one more thing I always have before a gig an' we can go."

"Don't tell me you're one of those stars who demand a hundred of white roses and counterclockwise stirred coffee with organic sugar for backstage."

Kerry looked directly into V's eyes in complete silence.

"Okay, I get it," surrendered V finally. "What's your wish?"

"Mint ice cream."

"What a fuckin' diva."

"What's your problem, kid? We're in."

"Could've been earlier if it wasn't for that." V looked at the small cup in Kerry's hands.

"Can't play without that," protested Kerry. "Besides, it's super tasty. Want some?" He scooped some of the ice cream with a plastic spoon and pointed it towards V.

V let out a heavy sigh but leaned closer and opened his mouth.

"So?" asked Kerry after V swallowed the ice cream. "Fuckin' awesome, huh?"

"Yeah, not bad," admitted V and licked his lips in a way that Kerry felt a strange warmth through his body, even though he just ate half a cup of mint ice cream. "Think I prefer banana latte flavour, though. Gonna leave you here, Ker, and look for Sloth. There're seven participants but for some miraculous reason you're the first one… so after you're done, we'll go to the guy's lair together."

"Whoa. You're already a better manager than Kovachek."

"Could take that job if it wasn't more dangerous than bein' a merc," laughed V and disappeared in the crowd.

The contest was about to start in five minutes so Kerry decided to slowly head over to the backstage. He didn't want to spend there more time than necessary and to look at all those fucking twins. Seriously, how dared they… Right in the middle of Night City. From what he understood, there were around twenty of his doubles working in the underground. Those who came here today could sing and they were often hired to perform at private parties for people who couldn't afford to invite real Kerry. Not that he would ever accept such an offer, but… The rest of twins were either adult models or – even worse – sexworkers. How desperate you have to be, thought Kerry with disgust. But at least some things finally made sense, like all those fake nudes leaking from time to time. Kerry used to think the photos were fake, made by obsessed fans, but it turned out it was the model who was fake.

Hope my lawyers are bored, thought Kerry in a fit of anger. He lost his appetite for mint ice cream and threw the cup away.

Someone who seemed to be a host came up to Kerry. The guy was wearing a neon-yellow suit and looked like a long lost brother of Us Cracks.

"Yo, you're out in a second. Jerry Dollardyne, right?" When Kerry recultantly nodded, he continued. "Gonna introduce you and you can start," he said in an impatient tone and left the backstage.

Kerry squeezed the guitar neck and headed to the stage.

"Fuck," he cursed to himself and covered his eyes.

Apparently, it was too much to expect from this third rate club to adjust the spotlights correctly, so the bright light blinded Kerry as soon as he stepped out. Somehow he managed to reach the microphone in the middle of the stage, but he still wasn't able to see the audience clearly, he only heard the loud applause. It seemed that Jerry guy was quite famous in the underground and Kerry could only wish that it was solely because of the singing skills.

He touched the strings gently, to check the instrument. Ah, the sweet sound of a guitar. That moment when he was just about to start playing was one of Kerry's favourite things in life and if he were to lose everything he owned but one item, he would choose a guitar. Without a doubt.

Kerry's vision became less blurry. He took one last look at the audience and when he wanted to start singing, he froze. Near the middle of this small music venue, leaning against a pillar, stood V. But he was about to infiltrate the club, wasn't he?

Kerry closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He didn't even have to choose the song, the fingers were already on the right track. They always knew better.

"Your first contact, you hit a lonely soul… It cut deep enough," he hummed.

There it was. The goosebump. Just like every time on the stage. Over the decades, playing had eventually become the only thing that was able to invoke any emotions in Kerry. Until…

"Until we break it, until the air flows, you shiver until we touch. Until these butterflies leave my head, until the day breaks we go dark, but… Let's not forget who we are."

Even from the stage Kerry was able to notice that little, encouraging smirk. V hadn't taken his eyes off Kerry for even a second. It wasn't anything new, Kerry was used to all kinds of hungry eyes but that… that felt different. If it was someone else, he'd probably feel uneasy. Here…

He couldn't stop looking into those red eyes too.

"There's a danger in your eyes, you're a predator, a little predator."

Wouldn't it be cool if that moment could last a little, just a little longer than the song? That there was no investigation waiting for them after?

"Escape the streets tonight, I don't know where to run, just let the tyres burn."

Clapping and cheering filled the venue. Kerry shook his head, trying to focus on the reality again. He grinned and waved at the audience which didn't seem to him like a bunch of idiots anymore. He even didn't mind that they appreciated him as a twin, not as a real Kerry Eurodyne. The endorphin rush was the same as ever.

Kerry glanced quickly at V. He was clapping together with everyone, but when their eyes met again, he beckoned Kerry with a hand gesture.

"Couldn't miss the opportunity to finally see Kerry Eurodyne live," explained V as they met near the back wall of the club.

"And? Wild show, right? Feed my ego, kid. Do it."

"Too short to tell."

Kerry snorted.

"Come to one of my shows, then. Can get you the first row."

"You bet I will." V grinned. "And guess what, as I was waitin' for your performance, I located Sloth."

"No way you did."

"Seriously. Gonks here are not exactly discreet. The guy's upstairs," said V and pointed at the ceiling. He seemed much more relaxed than he was before they came to Blue Velvet. "Let's talk to Sloth and maybe we'll be back just on time to hear the contest results."

Kerry didn't think it was possible, but the first floor looked even shabbier than the main room. The wall paint was peeling off and there was a lot of stuff scattered on the floor.

"Cool. Reminds me of good ol' times," said Kerry, when he almost stepped on an old syringe.

"Not sure if envy or feel sorry."

"Both, V. Both."

There were only three rooms upstairs and they peeked into two of them. Since one turned out to be a toilet, the other was a broom closet, it became clear that Sloth's studio must have been behind the last door. V knocked, but no one answered. He did it again, but since there was no response at all, he pushed the door and entered.

The studio reminded Kerry of Judy's place. The same mess on the desk, the same dim lights, the same smell of cigarettes and cheap pizza. But he could smell something else too. Something metallic, something like…

Blood?

"Wait, Ker," ordered V with sharp voice. "Something's not right. Gonna check the room."

Kerry immediately recognised the revolver that V pulled. Archangel. He wasn't exactly sure if he wanted to see that gun again, it reminded him of that intense, overwhelming fear but somehow it made him happy that V was actually using that beauty.

Maybe this time Archangel could save them both.

"Shit. Fuck!" cursed V as he checked the floor under the desk. "Someone's been here… just before us!" he snarled and slammed his fist on the top of the desk, so hard that a few items fell off.

Kerry came closer. He could feel his heart beating like crazy, but carefully looked at the floor.

Maybe if he saw only the face of that young man, he would think the guy was sleeping. The pool of blood and multiple stab wounds on the chest, however, proved that Sloth didn't come up with the idea of sleeping on the floor. There was no point in checking if the man was alive, nobody could survive such an attack. Kerry was sure of that.

"Someone really doesn't want us to unlock this BD," said V bitterly and hid the revolver. "Which means there's an answer, right on that chip. You okay, Ker?"

"Think I'm gonna puke."

"Chill, man. Nothing to do here. Let's delta befo…" he cut off in the middle of the word.

"What?"

"Shhhh," whispered V and put down a finger on his lips.

He stood still for a few seconds and then, without any warning, the mantis blades came out of his arms with a quiet clink. V turned out very fast, too fast for a normal eye to be able to track the moves and jumped into the darkened corner of the room.

"Who the fuck are you?!" he yelled, ready to strike at any moment.

The mysterious person stayed hidden in the darkness, but now Kerry was able to see their silhouette and a few details. The killer had a mask on their face, covering the eyes too, so it was absolutely impossible to recognise who it was. They were slim and of average height but that didn't tell anything.

Kerry realised he was trembling like a leaf. He didn't want to die… not yet.

And he was deathly afraid that something might happen to V.

Apparently, the killer didn't wish to risk fighting against two people, so they made a quick move towards the open window. But V was fast too. He got to the stranger in a flash, grabbed them by the clothes and they both fell out the window.

Kerry, still inside the room, heard a loud thump one floor below and then there was dead silence.

His first instinct was to run to the window, but his knees became weak so all he could do was to walk very slowly. Kerry knew he had to check what happened, despite all his instincts screaming to not do this. He had to. He…

He looked out of the window, with ringing in the ears. The killer was nowhere to be seen, there was only V, laying on the ground face down.

In a pool of blood.