"Get her a Johnny Silverhand, and a NiCola for me, extra ice."
Mercer sat down at the bar counter. Claire, the bartender who looked not much different from her in-game counterpart, raised a hand to acknowledge him first. After filling up drinks for another table, she walked over, glancing at Panam and Mercer.
"Hmm, new faces. Hello, I'm Claire."
She poured Mercer a NiCola first, a full glass with ice, then started mixing the drink for Panam.
"Johnny Silverhand... not many people order that these days."
After saying this, Claire smiled and looked at Panam. "Girl, this drink is bitter and spicy. Most can't handle it."
"Then change it. I'm not interested in Johnny Silverhand." Panam shot a glance at Mercer, feeling he was deliberately messing with her.
Mercer shrugged. "Ha, I wanted to try it myself."
"Then order one for yourself. After all, you're the A here."
Panam said this without minding the kid drinking, nomads didn't fuss over such things. She'd been in gunfights and smuggling runs with the convoy since her teens; a couple of drinks were nothing.
Mercer thought for a moment. "Get me a small glass to try."
Claire laughed. "Alright, but not many people come here just to drink cola... are you even of age?"
"A man's age is a secret, and secrets make a man more of a man."
Mercer's nonsense made Claire even more amused.
Chuckling, she poured him a small glass, about the size of a shot glass. "Then let me see how the manliest of men handles his liquor."
Mercer picked up the glass, first examining the drink, tequila old-fashioned mixed with beer and chili peppers...
He lifted his mask, downed it in one go, and couldn't help but cough, making Panam laugh heartily without restraint. "How is it? The taste of Johnny Silverhand?"
"The way you say that sounds gross... but it definitely fits that asshole's taste. Bitter and spicy, and the heat just lingers... cough, cough."
Mercer quickly took a sip of cola, feeling much better, then sighed in relief but grew curious again:
"A shot glass, vodka on the rocks, mixed with blue NiCola, a dash of yellow lemon juice. This drink..."
This drink was originally called David Martinez, left at Afterlife after the anime protagonist David died.
But now... Mercer said with a smile, "Let's call this drink 'New Chapter'."
"Hmm, 'New Chapter'..." Claire mixed the drink as he described, even adding a tiny decorative umbrella to the rim to match the blue beverage.
Mercer picked up the glass, looked at it, then took a small sip.
The fizz mixed with fruity acidity hit his taste buds, bringing a refreshing flavor, followed by the sharpness of the vodka. Mercer savored it, then smiled. "Not bad."
"Let me try a sip." Panam was eyeing it enviously and didn't mind that Mercer had drunk from it. She took his glass, turned it to a clean spot, and took a small sip. "...Tastes like a soda. Only kids drink this stuff."
"Oh really?" Mercer scoffed, downed the "New Chapter" in one go, then didn't touch another drop of alcohol, just sipped his cola and listened to the music. Panam's nomad attire piqued Claire's curiosity. After exchanging a few words, they discovered they both had considerable knowledge about vehicles and soon fell into an enthusiastic conversation.
Although Mercer understood a thing or two as well, he had no interest in joining in. He simply waited patiently, propping his chin with one hand while his fingers absently tapped against his mask, lost in thought.
As it neared eight o'clock, a burly man approached, interrupting Panam and Claire's discussion about cars.
"Ms. Rogue requests your presence."
The bodyguard looked rough and tough. Mercer gave him a quick glance, quite a few mods: Gorilla Arms paired with a Berserk OS, heavy Subdermal Armor, standard tank loadout. Perfect bullet-sponge material.
Mercer rose leisurely. "Panam, wait here."
"You sure? I'd better go with you... wouldn't want anyone looking down on you." Panam eyed the hulking bodyguard, feeling protective and wanting to back him up. "The Aldecaldos name carries some weight in Night City, too."
"No need. What we'll be discussing isn't fit for others to hear." Mercer smiled. "But thanks, Panam."
Panam could only shake her head and sit back down. "Alright then."
—--
Mercer adjusted his mask, shoved his hands into his pockets, and followed the bodyguard deeper into the bar. His relatively short stature made him appear particularly slight among the crowd of burly, oddly modified mercenaries, drawing curious and probing glances along the way.
The walk was longer than Mercer had expected.
They weren't heading to one of the outer booths. Instead, the bodyguard pushed open a door behind the bar, leading into a dimly lit corridor. After turning a corner and opening another door, a very secluded, enclosed private room came into view.
Inside, a woman sat on the central couch, Rogue.
The "Queen of Afterlife" looked far from young, her silver-white hair swept to one side. Her striking, spirited face bore a few wrinkles that spoke of experience.
Yet the wrinkles didn't make her seem old; instead, paired with the subtle war paint on her face, they added a touch of fierceness to her appearance.
"So you're A?"
Her tone wasn't exactly friendly, her strong-willed nature was evident even in her speech.
Mercer nodded and casually took a seat on the opposite couch, his tone relaxed. "That's me. You can also call me by my name, Alex, Alex Mercer."
"So, what's this information of yours?" Rogue crossed her legs, one arm resting on the back of the couch as she slightly lifted her chin, scrutinizing Mercer's demeanor.
Mercer simply lounged back lazily, a smile forming beneath his mask. "You sure you want me to say it now?"
He glanced toward the sturdy bodyguard at the door.
Rogue waved a hand expressionlessly. "Everyone, step back. I need to talk."
The bodyguard by the door obediently moved farther away, keeping an eye on passersby to prevent any interruptions.
Then, Mercer casually dropped the bombshell that made Rogue's face drastically change.
"Johnny Silverhand is still alive."
Rogue's gaze sharpened instantly, cutting into Mercer like a blade. "You son of a-"
"Soulkiller. I imagine you know better than I do what Arasaka has turned that program into." Mercer spoke at a measured pace. Beneath his mask, the azure cybereye had faint, starlike glimmers drifting slowly around the pupil, lending him an air of mystery.
"Back when Johnny Silverhand was instantly killed by Adam Smasher with a single shot, Spider Murphy saved him."
Mercer narrated a story Rogue had never heard before. The information woven between his words made her heart ache inexplicably, and her breathing grew heavy for no clear reason.
"Realizing she couldn't escape with the storage device holding Alt's consciousness, she uploaded Alt piece by piece onto the Net. This caused some fragmentation in her own consciousness and personality.
At the same time, Spider Murphy inserted the Relic. A remarkable chip originally meant to store Alt's consciousness into the neural port at the back of Silverhand's head, which had been blown apart by Smasher.
Because of this, Johnny's consciousness was uploaded onto the chip just before it vanished completely. I imagine you might still have some recollection of Murphy's actions back then?"
After a brief pause, Mercer continued, "As for how the chip eventually made its way back into Arasaka's hands afterward, I'm not certain. But what I can confirm is that Silverhand's consciousness is once again under Arasaka's control.
What we need to discuss now is how to rescue him."
"Rescue him?" Rogue let out a cold laugh. "I've already given enough for him.
Who sent you? How do you know so many details?
Not many of my old friends are still alive nowadays."
"Well, that depends on how you define 'alive.'"
Mercer chuckled lightly before adding, "To be honest, the one who hired me... you might not like.
Alt. Alt Cunningham. I imagine that's a name you remember quite well."
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Bonus chapter @900 power stones.
7 advanced chapters on my patreon. p-atreon.com/AstartesTL