Mr. Hands's office was located on the third floor of the Heavy Hearts club. The entire corridor after exiting the elevator contained only his office.
You could think of it as a suite with a private elevator entrance.
The black walls on both sides of the corridor and the gold embossed wall panels complemented each other, giving off a sense of understated luxury.
There were even extremely rare potted green plants placed along both sides of the corridor; these were living plants, not virtual projections.
Mercer walked to the door and knocked. With a click, the automatic door opened, and what came into view was an enormous LCD screen that covered almost the entire wall.
In the central area, which was covered with a red carpet, were two perfectly symmetrical sets of coffee tables and sofas. To one side was a desk and an office chair, which didn't look very large.
Mercer determined in an instant that Mr. Hands's office must have a hidden door leading to a secret space.
Perhaps that was where Mr. Hands usually spent his time, maybe a private suite or a secret storage room.
He judged this by the length of the corridor. The room was at least several dozen square meters smaller than the corridor's area suggested. The end of the corridor he saw after getting off the elevator was still a wall; perhaps the entire third floor also concealed a U-shaped secret space.
Hmm. Mercer was a little curious.
His cyberoptics subconsciously flickered with light as he scanned his surroundings. This series of observations and analyses, performed with a subconscious Overclock and Synaptic Accelerator, took him barely a second.
Only after he had finished his observation, scanned all the electronic devices with his cyberoptics, and discovered a hidden door on the wall did Mercer turn his head to look at Mr. Hands, who was now rising with a smile and walking toward him.
"Mr. Hands, I didn't expect to meet you in person so soon. As far as I know, you're the very definition of a man of mystery."
Mercer took the initiative to greet him.
Mr. Hands, his face wreathed in smiles, replied, "That's because the vast majority of them don't meet the standard for a meeting. Once you've been a fixer for a while, you'll learn that building relationships with most people is a waste of time, because the vast majority of mercs don't live past three years."
Mercer quipped, "It seems that in your eyes, Mr. Hands, our life expectancy is quite long."
"You're a special case of a different kind. Please, sit. Let's talk sitting down." Mr. Hands smiled and gestured for Mercer to sit on the sofa, then picked up a pot of hot tea and took out a teacup.
"I only have tea here, is that alright?" Mr. Hands asked.
"No problem, this is a high-class indulgence," Mercer said with a smile, sizing up Mr. Hands's appearance.
The man's style was quite distinctive. Only the middle of his slicked-back hair was dyed white, with the sides remaining black. He wore a wine-red suit, and a streak in the middle of the full beard beneath his goatee was also dyed white.
Mr. Hands poured a cup of hot tea, placed it on the coffee table in front of Mercer, and then sat down beside him, studying him with great interest.
"Let's continue our previous topic. To be honest, out of your entire team, the only one I'm truly concerned with and care about is you."
"Is that so? Then I'm truly honored," Mercer said, but his eyes were very calm, appearing unfazed by praise or criticism. This made Mr. Hands unable to resist a slight smile and a shake of his head.
"I've seen your photo in the Night City archives. Are you really only eighteen this year?" Mr. Hands asked curiously.
Mercer thought for a moment, then simply took off his mask and smiled. "Of course. Don't I look it?"
"Er... more like, you look too much like it." Mr. Hands was momentarily speechless. He didn't just look eighteen; he looked like he wasn't even eighteen yet.
But he didn't look down on Mercer because of his youthful face. On the contrary, his attitude became even more amiable. "There's an old Eastern saying, 'Heroes have always emerged from the young.' I deeply agree, especially when it comes to technology."
Watching Mercer pick up the teacup, or rather, tea bowl, blow on the steam, and gently sniff the aroma of the tea, Mr. Hands smiled and picked up a wooden box.
"Cuban cigars. Care for one?" he said, taking one for himself. "Most people who meet me never get to see this box of cigars. The price for just this small box is ninety-nine thousand eurodollars."
Mr. Hands took out a cigar and remarked with a sigh, "Nowadays, the price for this vintage of cigar could easily double at auction."
Mercer was actually a little interested. On the principle that not smoking one would be a loss of one hundred and ninety thousand eurodollars, he decisively extended his hand.
Mr. Hands froze, then surprisingly felt a pang of regret. To be honest, he thought Mercer didn't smoke! He was just making a casual, polite offer.
On the surface, however, he nonchalantly took one out, clipped it, and handed it to Mercer. He even professionally produced a pre-cut wooden spill, using its flame to light the cigar.
Mercer copied his actions. Er, to be honest, he couldn't tell if it was good or bad, only that it had a peculiar fragrance.
I'll have to take this down to Kiwi later and let her enjoy the feeling of a nearly two hundred thousand eurodollars cigar. Sigh, why didn't Mr. Hands follow up with a polite offer like 'let me give you a box'?
This guy definitely wouldn't have been polite about accepting.
As Mercer thought this, he put down the cigar and simply smiled. "Mr. Hands, you probably didn't invite me here just to smoke cigars and drink tea, did you?"
"I thought you'd be a little more patient." Mr. Hands exhaled a puff of smoke and took a light sip of tea, looking genuinely elegant.
"I spent too long talking with that slick character from the Voodoo Boys just now. My mouth is dry from all the talking, and I don't want a repeat of that anytime soon."
Mercer shrugged. "It's just the two of us now. I have a good impression of you, Mr. Hands, and I think our collaboration has been pleasant. So let's skip all the pretentious nonsense."
"Hahaha." Mr. Hands laughed a few times, then his expression turned serious. "In that case, I'll drop the pleasantries too. I didn't ask you here today for a gig, but to ask you a few questions.
I hope you can answer them truthfully. This could directly affect our future working relationship."
Mercer, however, still looked relaxed as he smiled. "Go ahead and ask. As long as they aren't difficult questions to answer, let's be frank with each other today. It'll make it easier to look out for one another in the future, don't you think?"
"Straightforward." Mr. Hands smiled, then said, "Are the people behind you Militech? Kang Tao? Or some other faction?"
"Oh? Why the sudden question?" Mercer was intrigued by the inquiry, but before asking his own question in return, he gave a firm answer first. "We don't work for any faction. We only work for ourselves."
Mr. Hands stared directly into Mercer's eyes, but Mercer simply met his gaze openly.
"That's a bit strange. Then what was the point of robbing Biotechnica? You turn right around and sell Arasaka's exoskeleton to Militech, then suddenly start working with Hansen. You possess powerful netrunning skills and even understand equipment design..."
Mr. Hands narrowed his eyes. "Your origins are unknown, yet as soon as you arrived in Night City, you managed to quickly assemble a team with astonishing combat power. And who knows where you got your cyberware..."
"All by yourself?" Mr. Hands found that hard to believe.
Mercer's crew was growing stronger at a speed that was almost visible to the naked eye. All because of him alone? A boy who looked like he was still wet behind the ears?
Too many mysteries surrounded him. For example, where did he learn his skills? The files on the people around him showed they were nothing more than a bunch of common street punks, so how did they transform into preem mercs in just two short months?
"It's thanks to the hard work of everyone on our team." Mercer paused, then said confidently, "Of course, the main reason is me. As for why we robbed Biotechnica, it was for the money, obviously."
"...Second question, what agreement did you reach with Hansen?" Mr. Hands asked, his eyes glinting. "Of course, you don't have to answer if it's inconvenient."
"It's simple. I provide the equipment blueprints and arrange the production schedule to get his armory up and running.
Hansen needs his own logistics and supply line, one that can't be choked off by others. I think that's common knowledge."
After speaking, Mercer paused before continuing, "Secondly, he's also taken a liking to my netrunning skills. To him, a netrunner like me who can affect regional network security is someone you either recruit or eliminate as soon as possible. That's not hard to understand either."
Mr. Hands looked amazed. "I had no idea you knew about all that besides your netrunning skills."
"In fact, I know a little something about cybernetics, biomedicine and chemistry, automotive manufacturing and repair, software engineering, cybersecurity services, and weapons and equipment development."
Mercer's words made Mr. Hands lean back slightly. Dude, that's a bit too ridiculous.
But looking at Mercer's calm and composed expression, Mr. Hands had a strange feeling that maybe the guy wasn't joking.
"In short, my relationship with Hansen is mutually beneficial. I reckon his ultimate goal is to achieve self-sufficiency in low-end weapons and equipment as much as possible.
Furthermore, for mid-to-high-end equipment and weapons, he wants the ability to breach and use advanced products from other corporations. I guess that's his objective.
If you're asking if he wants to develop his own advanced equipment, I doubt he has the resources for it, nor does he plan to invest that much. A warlord isn't going to waste his money on weapons development."
Mercer smiled. "He hired me because he really just wants to get his hands on a few low-end weapon and equipment designs I've developed. He's also trying to win me over and test my abilities while he's at it."
"As for me, I'm just paying a temporary protection fee. And while I'm at it, I'll see if I can use his resources to do a few things I'm interested in."
"Such as?"
Mr. Hands probed, "Do you have any development directions or plans? Don't get me wrong. What I mean is, if you have any good ideas, I can provide you with some investment and assistance. I also know many reliable, wealthy investors."
He said pointedly, "As long as you can prove your technical skills, believe me, a capable person is a hot commodity anywhere. Some of my old friends would be more than willing to ensure your safety.
Even Hansen has plenty of people he can't afford to provoke, or doesn't want to. And as it happens, I know a few of those big shots."
Mercer replied without hesitation, "I currently have ideas for and plan to develop only three things. The first is personal armor, similar to Arasaka's exoskeleton armor.
The purpose of developing this personal armor is to significantly enhance a single soldier's combat capabilities in urban warfare environments without heavy firepower."
Mr. Hands grew more interested. "From what I hear, you used that Arasaka exoskeleton to take down a joint Militech and Biotechnica transport convoy?"
"That's right. But to be honest, Arasaka's design philosophy is terrible. I've studied it, and the only valuable part is one of its weapon systems. As for the rest..."
Mercer complained, "It's a pile of dogshit."
Before Mr. Hands could press further, he continued, "The second area of development is weaponry and equipment, and the third is software."
Mercer glanced at Mr. Hands, then said, "The weaponry and equipment will mainly focus on weapons compatible with the personal armor, as well as the development of unmanned machines.
The software will also be adapted for the aforementioned areas, while also involving things like intelligent vehicle piloting, weapon mods, quickhacks, and so on."
After his brief explanation, he decisively pitched to Mr. Hands for investment, "If you're willing to invest some money, and more importantly, some equipment and other resources, I can consider sharing the development results to a certain extent."
Mr. Hands, however, only pondered for a moment before saying, "You know I can't convince other investors with just a few words from you."
Then what's the point of this bullshit? You want a PowerPoint? Then you'll have to wait. I'll draw something up and ask you for money when I have the time.
Mercer's expression immediately returned to one of calm. "In that case, I also have a few questions I'm curious about. I wonder if Mr. Hands could answer them for me?"
"Go ahead and ask." Mr. Hands set down his teacup and looked at Mercer with a smile.
"I know Hansen has a motley crew backing him, but who are his real financial backers and supporters?"
Mercer began to probe for information on Hansen.
If he had asked about Mr. Hands himself, he might have gotten a bunch of vague nonsense. But when it came to asking about Hansen, Mr. Hands had little reason to hide anything.
Mr. Hands said directly, "There are a total of three factions supporting Hansen. First, the Cubans. The smuggling business comes from all over the country. How could Hansen secure so many sources of goods and so many smuggled items that need to be routed through Dogtown on his own?
The Cuban crime syndicates in NUSA territory route their criminal proceeds, whether it's cyberware or weaponry, through Dogtown. Some fence their goods directly in Dogtown, while others have Barghest receive the goods upon arrival and then resell them to clients in other states.
Among them, the Cubans have the greatest demand. Their trade network spans across the NUSA, dealing in medicine, cyberware, equipment, and even some deals you couldn't possibly imagine.
In short, if you were to ask who Hansen's biggest supporter is right now, who helped him build Dogtown into a smuggler's paradise, it would have to be the Cubans."
Mr. Hands continued, "Second is the network he built while serving in the NUSA, mainly high-ranking officials in Militech and the NUSA military.
Militech and these military higher-ups sell some weapons and equipment to Barghest to further divide Pacifica and Night City. They also use Dogtown to transport some weapons and equipment into Night City.
Although the war is currently on pause, everyone knows that the battle between Militech and Arasaka has only reached a comma, not a period. Militech and the NUSA originally saw Hansen as a disposable pawn, but they never expected him to be propped up by the Cubans, so they decided to play along.
On one hand, they use Dogtown's Black Sapphire to sway Arasaka supporters within Night City, secretly infiltrating and backing supporters of Militech and the NUSA.
On the other hand, they are also trying to win over Hansen to continue their 'Midnight Storm' plan, which failed, or rather, was halted, in 2069, in an attempt to establish an extraterritorial base for the NUSA and Militech in Night City."
Mr. Hands paused, took a drag from his cigar, and finally said, "Third are those so-called socialites. They need a lawless land to fully unleash their true nature without being bothered by Night City's omnipresent media.
They also need a meeting place outside of Night City's system to talk business and discuss votes. This includes various celebrities and executives from other parts of the NUSA."
Mr. Hands chuckled twice, looked at Mercer, and said, "Hansen is very generous when it comes to bribing these politicians. Do you think he got Dogtown to where it is today just by having a strong army and a powerful background?
Of course not. Without the backing of Night City locals, Barghest, to put it bluntly, would just be a slightly larger gang. How could they possibly build a city within a city in Pacifica all on their own?"
Mercer fell into thought, and after digesting this information, he posed a rather sharp question. "So, Mr. Hands, are your Cuban friends more supportive of you, or of Hansen?"
Mr. Hands just gave a faint smile. "A, you must understand, even before Dogtown was founded... I was already the fixer for Pacifica."
Mercer nodded in understanding. Then, changing the subject, he began to discuss the Voodoo Boys.
"Slider and I were just chatting, and we discussed the Voodoo Boys in Pacifica... I was wondering what Mr. Hands thinks of these Haitians?"
Mercer's question made Mr. Hands's eyes flash. He looked at Mercer for a long moment before suddenly smiling. "The Voodoo Boys of Pacifica? In my eyes, they're just a bunch of pests. If there were a strong pesticide I could use, that would be just perfect."
"Is that so?" Mercer nodded, then picked up his teacup, took two sips of tea, and fell into deep thought.
After a long moment, he finally looked up, smiled faintly at Mr. Hands, and said, "I wonder if there's anything else Mr. Hands would like to ask?"
"No, that's all. We're just having a chat, not holding a hearing."
Mr. Hands chuckled, but his words carried a subtle implication. "I just heard you became a director over at Hansen's place and was a little curious about your recent changes. It seems we're still friends. That's good."
"I haven't forgotten the help you gave us before, Mr. Hands. So, there's no need to worry. We're still mercs. If there's a profitable job, you can still contact me anytime.
I have quite a few people under me now. It's important to let them stretch their legs and stay sharp every now and then."
After speaking, Mercer smiled faintly and added, "If Mr. Hands has any good friends in Barghest, you could introduce us."
"Of course. When the opportunity arises, I'll let you meet some of them."
Mr. Hands didn't try to keep him any longer. He stood up, and seeing that Mercer was about to turn and leave, he thought for a moment before suddenly saying, "Although I can't convince my investors to fund your research project before you've shown some results...
...but if there's any equipment or raw materials you want, let me put it this way... as long as you can find it, the Cubans can get it for you.
If there's anything you have trouble asking Hansen for, you can give me a call. I guarantee the price won't be any more expensive than what you'd get from Hansen."
He added meaningfully, "And if you develop any finished products, you can talk to me about the price first. I guarantee the price I can offer will be higher than what you'd get selling to Hansen."
Mercer smiled with understanding. "Of course. I'm guessing Hansen doesn't have high expectations for me anyway. So, no problem."
"Then I'll look forward to your call. As for gigs, if I have any in the future, I'll send them to you for a look first. If you're interested, you take it. If not, I'll find someone else. How does that sound?"
After Mr. Hands finished, Mercer immediately agreed. They shook hands and exchanged a few more pleasantries before Mercer turned and left with a flourish.
Of course, he didn't forget to grab the cigar he had only taken two puffs from.
After going downstairs and returning to their booth, he saw that the Voodoo Boys had already left, leaving only V and the others, who were still in the middle of a lively drinking competition.
As Mercer passed by, he handed the cigar to Kiwi.
She paused, then took it and bit down on it naturally, taking a taste. "Mm, it's pretty fragrant."
"I can't tell the good from the bad, but a box of these things costs nearly two hundred thousand eddies now. From what I saw, there are less than eight in a box, which means this one stick is worth over twenty thousand eddies."
Seeing Kiwi's eyes widen slightly, Mercer chuckled. "It doesn't even feel like you're smoking tobacco anymore, but money. One puff of smoke is a normal person's monthly salary."
V immediately held out her hand. "Let me try!"
"Try my ass. Do you even know how to smoke? Don't mess around," Mercer said, stopping Kiwi from giving it to her.
V pouted and leaned back. "I didn't have the money before! I just wasn't fated to enjoy this kind of thing!"
But she didn't mention taking a puff again.
Kiwi savored it slowly by herself, but when Mercer looked at her, she seemed to subtly lick the cigar. Mercer immediately averted his gaze.
This woman...
Even though she wasn't looking Mercer straight in the eye, Mercer was one hundred percent certain; she was hinting at him.
"What did Mr. Hands want to talk to you about?" V asked, blissfully unaware and curious.
Mercer looked away and said as if nothing had happened, "Nothing much. Just confirming my current relationship with Hansen. I also took the opportunity to sound Hansen out."
"Oh." V immediately lost interest.
The group continued to drink and mess around. When it got to around eleven or twelve, Kiwi said she wanted to head back and rest. Lucy and Kyoko chimed in, saying they'd go back with her.
But V clearly hadn't had her fill of fun yet, clamoring to party until dawn. So, Mercer just left her to continue playing with Rebecca, Maine, and the others. As for Maine and Dorio, they started drinking and ended up wrapped around each other, making out. It was a sight you couldn't unsee.
Rebecca thought about it, kind of wanting to go back with Mercer, but V grabbed her and wouldn't let her leave, insisting they drink their fill. After a few sharp words, the two decided to have a drinking contest until morning.
Pilar had already run off to hit on some girls. At this point, everyone had their own thing going on, so they decided to split up for now.
Mercer, Kiwi, Lucy, and Kyoko returned to the base. Kyoko had seen a lot today and had a pretty good time. She wasn't the least bit tired, so she grabbed Lucy and invited her to watch a BD with her.
Lucy stared at Mercer and Kiwi with a sharp gaze for a good while, but in the end, she didn't say anything and went back to her room with Kyoko to watch the BD.
The remaining two, Mercer and Kiwi, exchanged a look. Without any nonsense, she simply stood before her door and gave him a gentle, alluring smile.
Mercer took the hint, making a turn and entering her room.
"Why are you so happy today?" Mercer asked her curiously in the bathroom.
"Because you brought me a cigar," Kiwi said, lazily turning her head. After slipping into the warm water of the tub, she rested languidly against the edge.
"Just because of one cigar?" he chuckled, placing his clothes outside.
"Because there were so many people, but you only gave me one cigar. Hmm, or maybe it was two?" she smiled, tilting her neck up and extending a hand, beckoning to him with a finger. Her smile turned somewhat seductive.
"Ha," Mercer let out a helpless laugh, then walked over without hesitation.
Tonight, he had no intention of going back to rest early like last time.
V and Rebecca were drinking, and Lucy was tied up watching a BD with Kyoko. The time, the place, the people; everything was perfect. How could he let such an opportunity go to waste?
Kiwi's thoughts, however, were very simple.
Well... after all, what kind of ulterior motives could a woman who just wants to smoke a cigar have?
—--
A peaceful week flew by in an instant.
Lucy bit into an energy bar, the coffee beside her still steaming. This was now the seventh day of her silent protest against Mercer.
A glance from the corner of her eye revealed that the damned scumbag was still in a pathetic state, hopelessly engrossed in reading code.
Alright, so it wasn't really her staging a silent protest. It was that ever since Mercer had dealt with his troubles, he had thrown himself headfirst into breaching the Soulkiller program, nearly forgetting to eat or drink and doing nothing else.
Forget about taking the initiative to talk to Lucy; even when the usually boisterous V passed by, or when Rebecca asked him to hang out, he would just give a few perfunctory grunts and refuse any activity that wasted time.
From the most basic step of constantly using low-level AIs hatched by Morning Star as bait to trigger Soulkiller, he had now progressed to locking down Soulkiller's target acquisition and attack code, and had even written a blocking software specifically to breach the auto-targeting program.
In just one week, Mercer had completely neutralized the aggression of the Soulkiller program within the Relic.
Afterwards, he used a low-level AI created by Morning Star to screen the Relic for the main body of the Soulkiller program.
With the AI's help, by comparing it with a Relic from which Soulkiller had already been deleted, Mercer took less than half a day to finally strip and replicate the infamous Soulkiller program in its entirety.
It could be said that from this point on, if Mercer had a mind to retire, he could rely solely on the Soulkiller program in his possession, pledge allegiance to any corporation, and exchange it for enough wealth to live comfortably for the rest of his life.
But for Mercer, obtaining Soulkiller was merely the beginning.
Next, he had to do more than just understand the program; he had to analyze it, attempt to delve into its principles, and also become proficient in using, even improving and altering it, so that it could truly be used by him.
Mercer's ambition was vast. In truth, studying Soulkiller was only part of his goal. What he truly wanted to understand and master were human engrams after being uploaded.
The secrets of humans and AI, and even his own secrets, were perhaps hidden within the process of human-to-data conversion, and within the engrams produced from it.
But after stripping out the Soulkiller program, Mercer discovered another problem.
The version of Soulkiller he currently possessed was incomplete.
The Soulkiller in Mercer's hands had only one function, to kill the target's engram and copy its data in the process.
In other words, if the complete Soulkiller was what allowed Alt Cunningham to fully upload herself using the program, then the program Mercer had on hand could only allow Alt Cunningham to first kill herself and then create a copy.
Of course, a greater possibility was that Mercer had not yet fully grasped the core of the program and did not understand the concept of conversion.
This was a rare occurrence for Mercer. So far, the only program he had ever encountered that he couldn't understand was the core soul code of an AI's intelligence.
He had to admit, this older generation of netrunners really had something special. Even a "superpowered" individual like Mercer couldn't immediately figure out the things they had.
But Mercer wasn't worried. He felt that the only thing he lacked to comprehend and figure out these codes was a bit of time.
And right now happened to be the period with the best research conditions and the most ample time he'd had since he transmigrated.
"Hey."
The voice in his ear failed to distract Mercer. He was uncharacteristically immersed in his research, so focused that his usual ability to multitask was gone, his brain's CPU running at full speed.
"Hey!"
Only when the voice grew louder did he turn his head to see Lucy's frowning little face. "I said... did you hear me?"
"What?" he asked, dazed.
"Jackie and Sasha are here. Today's the day they're moving into the base too... You haven't even asked about the renovations upstairs, and V paid the Aldecaldos' invoice for you."
Lucy looked at him helplessly. "How many days has it been since you've been upstairs?"
"Oh!" Mercer quickly stopped and smiled. "Are Jackie and Sasha here?"
"That's right! I'm heading up. Go wash your face before you come!" Lucy gave him a reproachful look. "V's getting impatient."
Only then did Mercer realize the gravity of the situation. He quickly got up. "Okay!"
This was bad!
What happened last time he made V wait after she'd finished cooking?
Ugh... Mercer's shoulder began to ache faintly.
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4800words
Bonus chapter @1000powerstones