Outside the All Foods plant, Mercer circled around and found a suitable spot to launch the drone.
The Militech Wyvern drone soared high into the sky, quickly concealing itself at altitude. Using its ultra-high-magnification camera, it scanned the defensive layout of the food factory for Mercer.
The food factory appeared somewhat dilapidated, surrounded by a high perimeter wall topped with barbed wire. Only two gates, front and back, provided access inside.
Within the walls were dedicated security booths, stationary turrets, concealed retractable turrets, and an assortment of haphazardly parked vehicles belonging to Maelstrom gang members.
Numerous Maelstrom enforcers were gathered outside the factory building in small groups, smoking, drinking, and playing cards.
Mercer counted them; just the Maelstrom members drinking and playing cards outside numbered sixteen. Meanwhile, each of the two security rooms at the front and back gates had only one person on duty, responsible for monitoring and gatekeeping.
V and Rebecca couldn't see the drone's feed and could only stay alert, weapons at the ready.
On the way over, they had heard Mercer's brief overview of this "Saving the Bootleg Batman" mission. Mercer hadn't gone into detail about how he'd learned of this "Murk Man," only saying he'd stumbled upon the information online.
After hearing that Night City had such a peculiar man who called himself "Murk Man" and went out at night to fight crime, both V and Rebecca grew intensely curious.
Especially when Mercer mentioned that this "Murk Man" drove a modified Rayfield Caliburn supercar on his vigilante outings, their interest only deepened.
A supercar named "Caliburn" certainly didn't come as cheap as it did in the games.
As a hypercar produced by the "Rayfield" brand, which had become almost synonymous with luxury vehicles in the Cyberpunk universe, its status could be likened to a "Lamborghini" of this world.
Even the standard mass-produced Caliburn cost between 3 to 5 million eurodollars, not to mention that buyers of this model almost always requested customizations.
If it were a limited edition Caliburn, privately customized down to the interior and other details, the price could skyrocket to the range of 7 to 12 million eurodollars.
Driving a car that expensive to go out and play "superhero"?
The cost of repairing a single scratched panel could buy ten fucking bulletproof modified second-hand Mackinaws!
How rich must this guy be? V's eyes gleamed as she began fantasizing about how much money she could get her hands on after rescuing him.
"Alright, I've got a pretty good grasp of the situation. We still need to find a way in through the back gate. I'll use wall-penetration to hack the guy in the security room by the gate, then access their security system's computer and link into the local defense network."
After speaking, Mercer paused, looking at the two girls staring intently at him before continuing, "I'll mark the Maelstrom members at the back gate via the camera feed. You'll be able to see them through your cybereyes.
Take out the targets I mark in red quietly and discreetly. After that, I'll figure out how we get inside the factory."
"No problem, leave it to your girl!" V smiled and flexed her hands, while Rebecca pouted and said, "Then I'll just watch from the back. If you screw up, I'll open fire."
V, with her Sandevistan, was without a doubt the best person for this kind of assassination.
"Don't worry," Mercer said, "any difficult guys, I'll just fry their brains directly."
Mercer sat in the back seat of the van, took off his jacket, wearing only his netrunning suit, and said with a smile, tapping his own head.
V got into the driver's seat. "Should we drive straight there?"
"Yeah. Park against the wall near the back gate. By the time you've parked the van, I'll have taken out the guy in the security room," Mercer said confidently.
With the help of his cyberware, he wasn't afraid of any military-grade ICE that the cyber-psychos from Maelstrom might have installed.
Electronic countermeasures depended on two things: software and hardware.
Given Maelstrom's level, there was no way the hardware they could cobble together would be stronger than the professional ICE countermeasures inside the Behemoth that Mercer had hacked.
Although Mercer had some help from the netrunner van when he hacked that Behemoth, it wasn't like they could install countermeasures the size of the ones in a Behemoth into their own bodies.
Probably only a super-cyborg on the level of Adam Smasher could possibly fit a professional, military-grade ICE unit inside their body.
Without another word, V did as Mercer said and drove the van toward the factory's back gate. As she slowed down and approached, the camera at the back gate quickly turned toward her vehicle.
But just a second later, the camera suddenly drooped, lifeless.
Mercer's cybereye flickered with light, and a humming sound came from his back. After just three short seconds, he said in a relaxed tone, "Alright, you can get out and get ready to move."
V wasted no time, pulling out a short knife. "No need to hold back this time, right?"
"Where'd you get that?" Mercer was taken aback. "No need to hold back. If you killed every single one of those Maelstrom morons, you might get an innocent one, but if you kill every other one, you're sure to miss some. Go all out.
But I don't want to be targeted by Maelstrom just yet and fight those psychos to the death, so let's try to take them out quietly. Make it so they don't even know who hit them when they die."
V smiled and stroked the short knife in her hand. "Picked it up from a Militech store yesterday. It's crazy sharp. I'll use this as a stand-in until I get my Mantis Blades installed."
She pushed the door open and got out of the van. Rebecca, meanwhile, cocked her Guts with a click-clack and followed her out of the passenger seat.
Her Guts, now painted with a gaudy design, looked as long as a sniper rifle in her arms, and its muzzle seemed a size larger than before.
Mercer figured Pilar must have modified it for her again; its power was likely even greater than before.
"You two have to climb over. Opening the gate will make too much noise," Mercer reminded them.
V stood before the gate, which was over three meters tall, and glanced at it before turning to Rebecca. "Up you go."
She gestured, then squatted down, placing her hands on her knees to form a step.
Although Rebecca had never tried a move like this, her body was also in peak condition. Even on their first try, she and V worked together with relative harmony.
She planted one foot on V's hand and pushed off hard, while V simultaneously boosted her upward with all her strength. Rebecca grabbed the edge of the gate, her now slightly cracked Gorilla Arms making it effortless to haul herself up.
Instead of staying to pull V up, Rebecca quickly flipped over and immediately headed for the security booth beside the gate, slipping inside to avoid the sight of a few Maelstrom members smoking and chatting outside.
V, of course, was even faster than Rebecca; to avoid detection, she activated her Sandevistan for just over a second. After a running start, she leaped powerfully, clearing the gate almost without using her hands.
She landed like a blur and slipped into the security booth just as quickly.
"All personnel visible on cameras are highlighted. All security measures have been disabled, and I've hacked into the factory's security server using the turrets placed at the back entrance. Once you've dealt with the enemies, you can enter directly from the rear."
Mercer's voice echoed in their ears. V and Rebecca exchanged a glance, then used their cybereyes to see through the walls, spotting enemies highlighted in bright red.
"So damn cool. Feels like cheating in a game," Rebecca said, itching for action. "Leave one for me?"
"Let's go together then. You take the left, I'll take the right. We'll take out those two chatting by the car first. If things go south, I'll activate my Sandevistan."
V thought it over and decided to give her little sister a chance to shine, and to see what those Gorilla Arms could do.
Rumor had it those arms alone cost 130,000 eurodollars, and Rebecca had outfitted them with a 10,000-eurodollars shock mod that could supposedly punch a hole through concrete walls.
They crept out of the security booth, using the haphazardly parked Maelstrom vehicles and the visual advantage Mercer's highlighted markers provided to stay hidden.
Silently, they closed in on the two Maelstrom members smoking and drinking by a car not far from the gate.
Rebecca and V shared another look, then sprang out from behind the vehicle simultaneously. One of the Maelstrom members caught a glimpse of movement in his peripheral vision and turned warily, just as a small fist smashed through the back of his skull and curved out through his mouth.
The other Maelstrom member, who'd been chatting with him, nearly screamed in terror; anyone would jump if their friend suddenly sprouted a fist from his face.
But he found himself unable to make a sound. V's knife had already slit most of his throat, and one of her hands clamped tightly over his mouth as she dragged him behind the car.
Rebecca had a tougher time; she'd thrown the punch while jumping, and now her hand was stuck inside the guy's head, wedged between metal bones, messy flesh, synthetic fluid, and mechanical components. The sensation made her skin crawl.
She decided to force her way out, yanking so hard she tore the head off entirely, then disgustedly tossed it away with her other hand.
V stared, slightly nauseated. She usually kept her kills clean and efficient, nothing like Rebecca's... brutality.
[Rebecca: Ugh, never trying that again! That felt disgusting! V, you take it from here.]
[V: Whoa, you're really packing a punch.]
[Rebecca: Haha, impressive, right~?]
The two were actually casually texting through squad chat.
Mercer rolled his eyes and sent a message.
[Mercer: Hurry up, stop dawdling.]
V gave a thumbs-up to a random camera, knowing Mercer would definitely see it.
Then, taking a deep breath, she activated her Sandevistan.
Mercer instinctively triggered his Synaptic Accelerator, trying to track V's movements through the camera feed, only to find she was moving so fast the cameras were struggling to keep up, dropping frames.
It looked like she was teleporting in stuttering jumps across the camera footage.
Once V activated the Sandevistan, stealth went out the window; it was all about raw speed. She'd zip past enemies from behind, slash twice in the blink of an eye to scramble their brains, then immediately move on to the next target.
Almost matching Mercer's hacking efficiency, within three seconds, V was already standing by the warehouse's back door, hands on her hips, giving Mercer a thumbs-up. Behind her, the last two Maelstrom gangers she'd taken down were only now slowly slumping to the ground.
Rebecca clicked her tongue, feeling more convinced than ever that she needed to install an operating system and Kerenzikov ASAP. She kicked aside a Maelstrom corpse blocking her path and walked over to the back door.
[Mercer: Toss the bodies into the dumpster. With any luck, it'll buy us a little time.]
[Rebecca: Got it~]
She bent down, grabbed two bodies with one hand, and tossed them into the dumpster like trash.
V disdainfully used a head ripped off by Rebecca to shoot a three-pointer into the dumpster, landing it perfectly before shaking her hand and smugly raising an eyebrow at Mercer as he approached from the back door.
"Alright, enough showing off. I only hacked the main gate and a few cameras near the door using this turret by the back entrance. We still don't know what's inside, so keep it low-key."
Mercer walked up to the back door, and the factory's rear entrance slowly rose to open, revealing a folded turret hidden in the ceiling behind it.
Unfortunately for the turret, it was facing Mercer, whose cybereye could scan through walls up to 32 meters away. If not for signal interference, Mercer would have already hacked it and the security server behind it long ago.
"It's still working hours, so we'll need to take the employee passage."
After Mercer said this, V looked puzzled: "This food factory is still operational?"
"Yep, though who knows what they're actually producing, could be counterfeit food, or maybe they're using it to manufacture drugs. Who knows what these Maelstrom maniacs are doing with the machinery inside."
Mercer then pointed down a corridor at a fork in the hallway: "My guess is our target is being held in the basement at the very back.
Our objective isn't to charge in guns blazing, so first, help me find a server connected to the basement network."
"Understood. But how do we find it?" V blinked at him.
"Are you relying on me a bit too much here?" Mercer turned to look at her.
V retorted, annoyed: "I don't even know which way leads where in this factory. I can't just check every single room, can I? Besides, aren't you the one with high Intelligence? What, now you need me to do the thinking?"
"Fair point. That's actually a manifestation of the wisdom of the fool." Mercer said approvingly.
V gritted her teeth, clenching her fists as she calculated that if this job paid well, she'd have to repay Mercer first; otherwise, she just couldn't bring herself to do it.
"Let's go. I'll use my cybereye to identify the network equipment, wherever there's a dense concentration of network signals, that's where the server is."
Mercer spoke as he stepped into the employee corridor, cradling his L-69 Zhuo shotgun. The weapon was already linked to his smart-hand interface, primed and ready to fire at a moment's notice.
Mercer moved through the hallway at a steady, unhurried pace. Nearly every security camera would "lower its gaze" the moment it spotted him, leaving Rebecca and V exchanging amazed glances. What was supposed to be a stealth operation had seemingly turned into a leisurely stroll.
Click. A Maelstrom ganger suddenly pushed open a door from one of the hallway rooms. Before V could even react, the ganger's head erupted in a shower of sparks. His mouth hung agape as he crumpled to the ground, emitting only a brief, guttural gasp.
This Maelstrom member had modded himself to extremes; his head was practically all cyberware, with eyes, nose, and mouth all replaced. Mercer almost felt a twinge of guilt hacking him; sending a virus to make all that cyberware turn against its user was a brutal way to go.
Inside the room, only one other Maelstrom remained, lost in the euphoria of a BD. Mercer mercifully hit him with nothing more than a Synapse Burnout. The ganger likely never even felt his brain frying, dying peacefully within his dream world.
They hadn't gone much farther when Mercer's cybereye scanned what appeared to be a security room.
But seeing its location on the second floor of the factory workshop, and then spotting the seven Maelstrom members gathered on the ground floor, drinking, chatting, and casually monitoring the machinery, Mercer knew the tough part had arrived.
I need to think...
Mercer paused at a corner of the employee passage, considering his options. Hack them all at once?
Simultaneously breaching seven minds seemed daunting. The main issue was ensuring he could take them all out instantly; if any alarm was triggered, they'd have to fight the entire factory's worth of Maelstrom.
Even if his brain could handle it, his cyberdeck's memory had its limits. Running too many programs at once might overwhelm its data transmission capacity.
This was precisely why Mercer had chosen to use a netrunner van against the Behemoth back then. In net combat, beyond raw brain processing power, cyberdeck memory and data transfer speed were critical factors.
What about activating Overclock and the Synaptic Accelerator?
After a moment's thought, Mercer decided this might actually be a perfect opportunity. With V backing him up, he could test the limits of his capabilities.
"V, I'm going to Overclock and accelerate to hack their minds. If anything goes wrong, you'll need to step in. Be ready."
As soon as Mercer finished speaking, V drew her pistol, chambered a round with a sharp click, and nodded.
Rebecca, who had been growing bored waiting, now gleefully hugged her shotgun, eagerly anticipating the chance for action.
Mercer took a deep breath and preemptively activated his cooling systems. V and Rebecca watched as the panels on his back and neck snapped open in unison, the hum of machinery whirring like a small engine.
Synaptic Accelerator!
The moment Mercer leaned out, he activated the Synaptic Accelerator. As his world slowed to a crawl, his cybereye precisely locked onto the distant signal.
Overclock!
The instant his brain went into overdrive, Mercer's cybereye began emitting a conspicuous blue glow.
In his field of vision, a series of red malware windows abruptly materialized above the heads of the nearly motionless Maelstrom gang members.
Morning Star, execute program!
Mercer gave Morning Star a chance to prove itself in combat. It immediately began utilizing the Quickhacks stored in Mercer's Cyberdeck to initiate hacks against the enemies.
Mercer's role was simply to provide it with as much computational power as possible.
Within 0.5 seconds, electrical sparks burst from the heads of four Maelstrom members. Then, programs were deployed onto the remaining three.
First came the fastest-loading "Sonic Shock"; the gang members suddenly heard an overwhelming noise in their ears, their minds buzzing, instantly losing control of their cyberware briefly.
Next was Synapse Burnout. Their neural links were forcibly overclocked, electric currents scorching their brains, causing some to instinctively open their mouths to cry out in pain.
But immediately following was a Memory Wipe, a sensation similar to being struck hard and momentarily stunned, leaving their minds blank for an instant. It was this blankness that robbed them of their final instinct to call for help.
Only one, equipped with specialized ICE, resisted for a fraction of a second longer, letting out a wretched scream.
Mercer clicked his tongue in annoyance, stepped forward, and leaped vigorously. Through the second-floor security room window, his eyes met those of a Maelstrom member who had just turned to see what was happening outside. In that instant, Mercer made the man's head erupt in flames and sparks.
The distance was too great, and there were too many devices inside. Mercer's cybereye scan showed overlapping signals, forcing him to rely on this direct line of sight to accurately lock onto the target's signal and hack it.
"All done?" Rebecca asked, seeing Mercer stagger slightly as he landed, the blue glow fading from his cybereye. She instinctively reached out to steady him.
Mercer nodded. "Hopefully, no one in the security room triggered the alarm. It really takes practical experience to uncover problems."
Instantly killing enemies and making them die without even a sound are two entirely different levels of difficulty.
Especially since Mercer relies on program-based hacking; this loading process, no matter how fast, still takes time.
If these guys were all equipped with professional ICE, meaning corporate-level configurations, it would be nearly impossible for Mercer to simultaneously take them all out without letting a single scream escape.
When Mercer uses all the RAM in his cyberdeck at once, he can only send 4-7 programs simultaneously; the exact number depends on the memory each program occupies during runtime.
This is a limitation even his enhanced mind can't overcome, because humans can't run programs directly with their brains; they must rely on an external carrier.
Moreover, to burn out someone's brain through their neural link, you first have to run a program within it, and that takes time too. Not even a rogue AI, not even a Blackwall AI, could bypass this fundamental constraint.
[Morning Star: Apologies, I was unable to perfectly complete the task you assigned.]
[Mercer: Not your fault. It's a limitation of netrunning techniques.]
[Morning Star: I'm terribly sorry.]
[Mercer: Next time I'll allocate more computing power to you. I might have set my own limits a bit too low this time.]
Mercer did not blame Morning Star. Its precision during program execution was already remarkably high, barely wasting any of Mercer's computing resources. The only shortcoming was its real-time responsiveness, which still fell slightly short due to technological limitations.
The ICE-breaking methods were just the same few recycled techniques, still largely confined within the framework of Mercer's quickhack programs, unable to flexibly fine-tune according to each individual's unique ICE like Mercer could.
Perhaps it was time to hand over some of the core program code from Bartmoss's "Deathwish" to it.
"Seems quiet."
V remained on high alert for a while longer, hearing neither alarm sounds nor any footsteps, before finally relaxing.
Rebecca was still supporting Mercer, looking at him with concern: "You alright? It's been so long, and the cooling system hasn't fully quieted down yet."
"Not a big issue. If it were the same situation as before, I could probably hold out for about seven or eight seconds before needing to stop and rest for a bit."
Mercer spoke as he straightened up, appearing largely unaffected. Rebecca let go of him: "Where to next?"
"Let me connect in first. With some luck, this security room might have direct access to their internal server. That'll make our next target clear."
Mercer said, passing through the still-operating server room. He glanced at the Maelstrom corpses with their heads on fire and couldn't help shaking his head.
From the burn patterns, it was clear that what was burning wasn't flesh and blood but a mess of mechanical structures. These people had truly modified even their mouths and throats into machinery, probably spoke with synthesizer voices.
From the nose up, they still had the signature Maelstrom large red eyes; they loved modifying their faces with clusters of red eyes, making it look like a human head stuffed full of cameras.
No wonder the most famous cocktail at the Maelstrom's exclusive nightclub, "Totentanz," called "The Armageddon," contained roach killer spray, car antifreeze, and human blood among other bizarre ingredients.
Only these mechanical lunatics could drink that stuff without dropping dead on the spot.
"Compared to them, my level of modification is practically beginner tier."
Mercer sighed, while Rebecca shot the group a disgusted look: "Don't you dare copy them. They're hideous."
"I agree with that... At least you should still look human, right? Look at this maniac, he added two auxiliary wheels below his legs. Absolutely insane."
V also complained while examining a corpse. The Maelstrom's obsession with cyberware modification was beyond most people's comprehension.
If Adam Smasher came here, he'd probably feel right at home.
"Definitely insane. Even if they weren't crazy to begin with, installing this much would drive anyone to the brink of madness."
After Mercer finished speaking, the group had already reached the second-floor security room built from iron frames. He walked in, found a laptop, remotely uploaded a program to scan it first, then plugged in the cable.
"Let me see... Got it! Lucky us, or maybe the Maelstrom only has one internal security server? Anyway, I've got access to the basement cameras now."
Mercer's cybereye glowed as he switched to the camera feed.
"Good, looks like they're still torturing our hero, not planning to kill him immediately. V, Rebecca, both of you follow the route I've mapped out and head to the marked locations. Once you're in position, I'll start hacking to take out the marked targets. The remaining two are Maelstrom's third-in-command, or de facto second, Royce and his lackey.
I'll signal when I begin the hack. Move immediately and prioritize the hostages' safety."
After Mercer finished speaking, V and Rebecca nodded, gripping their weapons as they set off.
Mercer had no intention of joining them; this way, the two could fight freely without worrying about protecting their squishy netrunner. He could handle remote hacking through the cameras, even if it was a bit slower.
He settled into the security room, maneuvering the basement cameras via computer to survey the scene.
Down in the basement, the poor "Murk Man" was being beaten to a pulp.
Tied to a chair, he hung his head low, his face bruised and swollen beyond recognition. One of his arms had been dislocated, and a Maelstrom thug waved a chainsaw menacingly beside him.
Royce sat opposite in another chair, a hulking Maelstrom member standing behind him with arms crossed. Six other gang members loitered nearby, watching the spectacle.
Mercer maintained his connection, amplifying the camera's audio to listen in.
"You've got a tough hide, I'll give you that. Most people crack after a night of this. You're holding up surprisingly well," Royce drawled, staring at the self-proclaimed "Murk Man" with disdain.
Murk Man replied weakly, "It's because I have nothing to tell you. That's why you're getting nowhere."
"So we're supposed to buy your 'justice hero' bullshit? Damn it, I say we toss him in the microwave and cook him alive, payback for our fallen chooms!" The chainsaw-wielding thug behind Murk Man snarled, then turned to Royce for approval. "Should I take one of his legs next?"
"You expect me to believe some corpo, someone who spends his days obediently serving the corps, squeezing the life out of this city, suddenly grows a conscience at night and becomes a 'superhero'?" Royce let out a cold laugh. "You must think I'm a fucking idiot."
"What a joke... To end up in the hands of morons who can't even string a coherent sentence together. What a pathetic way to go." Murk Man gave a bitter smile, seeming to surrender all hope.
Royce's red cybereye glowed fiercely as he stared, deep in thought. Finally, he decisively drew his pistol. "Fine. I'll just assume you're a delusional dumbass..."
Mid-sentence, Royce's expression suddenly shifted. He glanced toward the camera, instinctively raising his gun and pulling the trigger.
But before the bullet could fire, his movements froze. First, his arm went limp against his will, then he managed only a furious curse before turning with murderous intent toward Murk Man.
Before he could act, several gunshots rang out, sending him collapsing sideways to the floor.
"You're the dumbass..." Before Murk Man could even finish his retort, his swollen eyes barely open saw a flicker of red light, followed by the rapid sound of gunfire.
He flinched, instinctively thinking the trigger had been pulled on him.
However, what followed was the deafening roar of a shotgun blast.
The Maelstrom ganger holding the chainsaw behind Murk Man took the full brunt of the hit.
The shotgun blast sent the chainsaw-wielder flying backward. His sturdy metal frame absorbed some of the pellets but magnified the impact, sending him crashing to the ground two or three meters away.
Rebecca dropped down from above, shouting excitedly, "Fuck yeah! That was a solid hit!"
V casually holstered her pistol and deactivated her Sandevistan; the remaining Maelstrom gangers around them had already been hacked by Mercer, now writhing on the ground with their heads in their hands, human torches screaming in agony.
"Pretty quick work," she said, giving a thumbs-up to the camera.
The camera nodded up and down in acknowledgment of her praise.
"So you're the Murk Man?" V walked over to him and put a bullet into the squirming lieutenant behind Royce, ending his suffering.
"Who are you?" Murk Man strained to open his bruised eyes, trying to make out V's face.
V nodded, then glanced at the camera. When it nodded back at her, she knew she had the right person.
"Don't worry about who we are for now. Let's just say we're here to save you. My boss's philosophy is to help guys like you whenever we can. And since you're pretty well-off, we won't be operating at a loss."
As V spoke, Rebecca walked over, grabbed the ropes binding him, and snapped the handcuffs on his wrists with her bare hands.
Murk Man instinctively muttered thanks, then asked, confused, "So you don't actually know me? You just knew I was the Murk Man and came to rescue me? How did you even know I was captured..."
A voice cut him off.
"Bruce Weyna, senior project director at Night Corp. Let's see... Yep, his parents were the lead managers of Night City's light rail project. They had their own construction and finance companies while they were alive. But when he was twelve, they were killed in a robbery-turned-murder. He survived by pure luck, sold off his parents' companies, went to college, and joined the corporate world, standard elite resume."
Mercer's voice put Bruce on alert. He turned to see a man about 176 cm tall step out of the shadows.
Gotta admit, the scanning software hacked from NCPD is damn useful. For lawful citizens like Bruce, NCPD's database has pretty comprehensive records.
"I'm A. Don't ask how I know. Let's just say you got lucky running into us."
Mercer paused before adding, "We came specifically to save you. No conspiracy or hidden agenda like you might be thinking. Plain and simple, I felt like it, so I did."
"As your savior, I think I deserve some reward. For instance, I quite like that Caliburn of yours, wouldn't be a wasted effort."
Hearing Mercer say this, Bruce actually felt relieved; it was good that he wanted something.
He quickly composed himself, turning to look at Royce, who was still alive on the ground, clutching his head and groaning softly:
"Alright, we can discuss the reward once I'm safe. I never shortchange those who save my life. But what do you plan to do with this Royce?"
As soon as he finished, Mercer chuckled. "Let's see if there's any valuable intel in his head. If not, we'll just kill him. What, you wanna do it yourself?"
"No, I don't kill casually," Bruce firmly shook his head.
"Oh? You have a no-kill rule too?" Mercer tilted his head, studying him.
"You're serious? One second later, and they would've blown your head off!" V stared at Bruce in disbelief.
Bruce, his face swollen like a pig's, replied solemnly:
"I never finish off enemies who've lost the ability to fight. I'd rather apprehend him and hand him over to the NCPD."
V sneered, "Come on, what good is the NCPD? Night City's laws are a joke. A guy like Royce would be out of prison in a few years."
"Then we'll just catch him again when that happens!" Bruce said resolutely.
Mercer found it increasingly amusing; this guy really was becoming more and more like Batman.
But then, a sudden alertness struck him. Was this really just an ordinary easter egg in the game?
Could someone like Bruce truly exist in a place like Night City?
At that moment, Royce, who had nearly been hacked into unconsciousness, finally came to his senses and rasped angrily, "Who the fuck are you people?"
"Watch your mouth!" Rebecca kicked him hard, her unexpected strength twisting his face sideways.
His angry gaze, or rather, the flickering red glow from the cybereye covering half his face, burned with rage. "Fine, I'm done for today. Name your price, give me a chance to buy my life. You're not really planning to kill me, are you? Maelstrom ain't easy to take down! I'll give you 500,000 eddies for my life; that's no small sum, pal!"
Royce had thought the two women might waver a bit, but to his surprise, neither of the street kid-looking girls even glanced his way.
V even let out a scornful laugh.
Royce hurriedly added, "500,000 eddies each! As long as I stay alive!"
"Then pay up first," Mercer said with a smile.
"Of course I can't pay now..." Before Royce could finish, Mercer walked over and yanked the CredChip from his head.
"Only 10,000 eddies in your CredChip, and you're throwing around numbers like 500,000? You think we're idiots?"
After transferring all the money from Royce's CredChip, Mercer sneered, uploaded a lie-detection program directly into his brain, and asked:
"How much money do you actually have? 100,000? 200,000? 300,000, damn, only 300,000? And you're Maelstrom's second-in-command?"
Royce was shocked. "What the hell did you just upload into my head?!"
"It seems you're beyond saving." Mercer looked at V with regret, while V cooperatively raised her pistol to aim at his head.
Royce immediately protested, "I just don't have that much money in the bank! Who in our line of work keeps such a huge sum sitting in a bank account? Look, I recently got my hands on something rare. Let me go, and I'll give it to you. That thing's worth nearly a million eurodollars, absolutely one-of-a-kind!"
Mercer stared at him and asked, "Is it in your possession or your boss's? Never mind, let me ask you one last time, where's your own three hundred thousand eurodollars?"
Royce's expression turned fierce as he glared silently at Mercer.
Could it be stored as cash? Mercer probed.
Royce remained silent, but Mercer guessed the answer from the approximate fluctuations detected by the lie-detection program in his mind.
Mercer rolled his eyes, sounding somewhat disappointed. "Looks like there's no chance for extra earnings this time. V, do it."
Royce opened his mouth, unsure whether to curse or beg for mercy.
But without another word, V pulled the trigger. Surprisingly, the shot only knocked Royce's head to the side instead of blowing it apart.
"Damn it!" V cursed, then angrily fired several more times until Royce's head was riddled with holes.
Rebecca burst into laughter, picked up her shotgun, and blasted Royce's head point-blank.
In the next moment, green and white matter splattered everywhere.
"See? I told you that antique of yours needs replacing. Even after modifying the caliber, it's still not enough," Rebecca boasted triumphantly.
V glared defiantly at her pistol. "Who says? I think it's the ammunition that's the problem. Just wait till I modify it to use armor-piercing rounds. With a caliber this big, one shot would blow his head to bits!"
"Why bother with all that effort? Why are you so attached to that old relic? Honestly, even a large-caliber revolver would perform better than that thing. The design of your gun limits its potential; you should know its upgrade ceiling better than I do."
After Rebecca's remark, V could only mutter something about it being "the first good gun she ever owned," which made Rebecca laugh even harder as she proudly showed off her Guts.
Bruce watched in stunned silence; these two women certainly didn't seem like the good sort!
Royce's mechanical synthetic fluids were still steaming hot as they flowed from his head, yet the two women were already discussing how to refine their killing tools.
"Alright, can you still walk?" Mercer smiled and extended a hand to Bruce.
Bruce gritted his teeth and struggled to his feet. "I'll manage, just don't go too fast."
"Let's get out of here first, then we can talk about your situation. Honestly, I'm quite curious about you." As Mercer finished speaking, a prompt from Morning Star flashed before his eyes.
[Morning Star: I recommend an immediate evacuation. Someone's coming.]
Morning Star also pulled up camera footage for Mercer; five Maelstrom vehicles were passing through the main gate of the factory.
From the camera's perspective, two vaguely familiar faces were in the driver and passenger seats of the lead car, deliberately enlarged and displayed to Mercer by Morning Star.
"Time to go. Brick, the boss of Maelstrom, and his second-in-command Dum Dum are here."
Mercer's warning cut through the tension as Rebecca and V swiftly yanked out the CredChips from the remaining Maelstrom gangers, a scattered but decent haul of eddies.
"Brace yourself," Mercer grunted, hoisting Bruce's wobbling arm over his shoulder and half-carrying him toward the exit. Rebecca wanted to help, but at her height, she'd probably just end up dragging Bruce across the floor.
Bruce was tough as nails. Missing an arm and with legs that looked like they'd taken a serious beating, he didn't make a sound, just kept pace with Mercer's support as they moved quickly.
They nearly crossed paths with Brick's group; Mercer's team had just reached the factory's back exit via the employee passage when Brick and his crew entered the main entrance leading to the basement.
Unsurprisingly, the sight of Maelstrom corpses littering the floor, cleared by Mercer, put Brick and his men instantly on edge.
"Move! Check the basement now!" Brick barked, rifle raised as he scanned the bodies before shouting, "Everyone, activate your ICE early! Get the facility's netrunner to review the security system!"
While supporting Bruce, Mercer kept monitoring the factory's interior and exterior via security cams. Seeing the alert go up, he immediately began deploying a virus through the cameras.
But Brick was sharp. The moment his ICE registered unusual activity, he snapped his rifle up and blew out a distant camera, cutting off the hack in progress.
"Shit! Everyone, stay sharp! Take out all the cameras!" Brick roared. "There's a netrunner on us! My ICE almost buckled! Watch your damn systems!"
As he fired at another camera, he cursed under his breath, "Those Voodoo Boys assholes swore my ICE could hold off corp netrunners for ten seconds. Bullshit! They're full of it!"
And just like that, the Voodoo Boys took the blame.
With Maelstrom quickly destroying all cameras, Mercer lost his eyes inside the factory. He shook his head, unconcerned. He'd already tested Brick's defenses through the feed.
If he activated Overclock and Synpase Accelerator, bypassing cameras to hack Brick face-to-face, Mercer was confident he could breach his systems in about a second.
If even the Maelstrom boss's skills were this lacking in his eyes, then Mercer felt assured; nine out of ten people in Night City would be helpless against him.
The only real threats were being swarmed by multiple skilled opponents, facing high-power electronic countermeasures, or taking fire from extreme range.
Mercer wasn't looking to start a massacre. After backtracking, they reached the factory's rear exit, where Maelstrom guards had already noticed something wrong; despite Mercer dumping the bodies in trash bins, the bloodstains on the floor were impossible to hide.
The alerted gangers quickly pieced together where the intruders had slipped through.
"They're at the back door!"
A Maelstrom gang member shouted, but was met with Rebecca kicking the door open, laughing as she pulled the trigger of her shotgun.
The moment the high-powered shotgun blast sent the Maelstrom flying backward, V activated her Sandevistan and charged into the fray.
Mercer stayed low behind cover, helping V hack the Maelstrom gangers who were trying to take cover and shoot. After neutralizing the threat from the backdoor, he continued supporting Bruce, evacuating the factory before tossing him into the car.
V flipped into the driver's seat: "Shit, we gotta move! Those bastards will be on us any second!"
"Any good spots if we head out of the city?" Mercer didn't want to lead the Maelstrom to the Aldecaldos.
"Go... go to my secret hideout." Bruce coughed, gasping for air. Moving meant enduring the relentless pain radiating from all over his body. Though he didn't cry out, his face was already drenched in cold sweat.
"Where?" V asked.
"Drive out of the city, take the highway toward the Badlands. I'll guide you. There's an abandoned tunnel, I've converted it into my secret base."
As Bruce spoke, Mercer assessed his condition and concluded, "You need to stop the bleeding immediately, get a blood transfusion, and have an internal hemorrhage scan. Surgery might be necessary if it's severe."
"My base has basic medical equipment. And they canceled my Trauma Team membership. If needed, I'll call Trauma Team."
Bruce spoke weakly.
Rebecca, confused, asked, "Then why not just call Trauma Team right away?"
Bruce simply replied, "You don't understand. My Trauma Team membership was bought through the company, and it goes through corporate insurance reimbursement. That could expose my identity to the corporation."
"A corpo like you, why would you ever think of doing something like this?" Rebecca was genuinely curious. "Was it really for justice, or just for thrills?"
Bruce fell silent for a moment before saying, "This city needs me."
"As a 'superhero'?" V clearly disapproved.
She glanced in the rearview mirror, mainly at Mercer, and said, "I heard from A what you do every day: just replacing the NCPD, stopping crimes on the streets, taking down some criminals. What difference does that really make for this city?"
"At least it's better than no one doing anything!" Bruce suddenly grew agitated. "Should we just sit back and watch crimes escalate, innocent people keep dying?"
"Who are the innocent? Those driven by corporations to the brink of starvation, with no water to drink, forced to join gangs, are they innocent?"
V retorted sharply: "Those who rob a supermarket for a loaf of bread to survive, are they born evil, or just desperate people with nowhere left to turn?"
"I only target violent crimes," Bruce insisted.
But V fired back, "To save you, we killed a bunch of Maelstrom gangers. What does that make us? Under NCPD and Night City law, we should all get life sentences. Would you come arrest us?"
Bruce fell silent.
V pressed on relentlessly: "Corporations like Biotechnica, everyone knows they poison the world, trick innocent people into human experiments. Why don't you go after them? Playing hero on the streets, taking down small-time punks with no backing and sending them to jail, what kind of hero is that?"
Bruce opened his mouth, a flicker of confusion flashing in his eyes, but then his expression grew increasingly resolute. "That doesn't mean what I've done is meaningless!"
"I'm not saying your actions are meaningless. I just think, someone like you, with all your wealth, why choose this approach? Even if you invested in the NCPD and pushed them to enforce the law properly, wouldn't that be more effective than you running around like this on your own?"
After V said this, even Rebecca looked surprised, and Mercer couldn't help but chuckle.
But before Mercer could speak, V glared fiercely into the rearview mirror. "If you dare say 'wisdom of the fool' again, I swear I'll punch you right now!"
"Hahaha, but V, this time I actually agree with you."
Mercer laughed a few times before speaking seriously. "For this city, just fighting crime is meaningless. Of course, I'm not saying we should stop doing things like that. But if you really want to change anything, just being a street hero isn't enough."
After Mercer finished, Bruce simply lowered his head in silence, not saying a word.
Even Rebecca agreed with V and Mercer's perspective. "I think so too. If just fighting crime could make Night City better, someone would have done it already. Since you love doing this kind of thing so much, why didn't you join the NCPD instead of going to work at Night Corp?"
Then, with a tone of certainty, she added, "I bet Night Corp has done plenty of shady stuff too. You're a high-level executive there, why haven't you done anything about it?"
Bruce lowered his head even further. Mercer shook his head, signaling for everyone to stop. Otherwise, this guy might have a mental breakdown and crash the car; then saving him would have been for nothing.
"Think it over yourself. Hold on tight, Maelstrom's here." V's eyes suddenly sharpened as she spotted several motorcycles speeding toward them in the rearview mirror.
The bikes were weaving rapidly through traffic, slipping between cars as they closed in on their Mackinaw.
"These idiots have a death wish! Let me handle this!" Rebecca leaned halfway out of the passenger window, gripping Guts, and fired a blast behind them.
"Get out of my way if you wanna live!" she shouted, but the blocked traffic behind them became an obstacle to her shots.
Rebecca had to consider these innocent people, but Maelstrom didn't. One of the gang members on a motorcycle raised a smart submachine gun with one hand and opened fire recklessly at Rebecca.
Bullets whizzed toward them. Rebecca barely had time to curse before ducking back into the car to avoid the onslaught.
"Drive faster!" she urged V.
V rolled her eyes. "Take a look at this traffic, how fast do you expect me to go?"
To make a quick exit from the city, they had taken the urban expressway instead of back roads. The heavy flow of vehicles meant that even with V flooring the accelerator, constant lane changes slowed them down.
The motorcycles, on the other hand, had it easy; zipping flexibly through gaps in traffic. In the time it took to speak, they had closed the distance by another dozen meters.
Mercer stood up decisively. "I'll handle it."
"Are you kidding? You're not even wearing body armor!" Rebecca protested, refusing to let him move closer.
But Mercer simply rolled over and squeezed in, placing Rebecca's petite frame on top of himself without hindering his ability to sit in the passenger seat, lean out the window, and aim his L-69 Zhuo.
In terms of raw strength, Rebecca could have pinned him down with one hand, but after flexing her Gorilla Arms, she ultimately yielded and shifted aside to make room. "Be careful! They're using Smart weapons too!"
"You call that target lock?" Mercer retorted with unwavering confidence. The moment he leaned out, he activated Overclock and his Synaptic Accelerator. Instead of opting to hack, he raised his L-69 Zhuo and achieved target lock in under 0.1 seconds.
Then, he tilted the barrel up slightly and fired two consecutive shots.
The smart-targeting pellets arced through the air, whistling as they struck both motorcycle riders squarely in the face.
Every pellet landed in a perfectly circular pattern, not a single one off mark.
The Maelstrom gang had no time to react. Even though they instinctively tried to dodge upon seeing the shotgun, the tracking projectiles paid no heed; in the blink of an eye, their half-modified red cybereyes were turned into genuinely red eyes.
Both motorcycles instantly lost control. One veered off the expressway, its Maelstrom rider shrieking as he crashed into the concrete-and-steel guardrail, effectively embedded into it.
The other fared even worse, getting dragged under a nearby car and terrifying the civilian driver so badly his face turned pale; screams from the driver's seat could be heard dozens of meters away.
Mercer leisurely pulled himself back inside, a smirk curling his lips. "See that? Marksmanship."
"Ugh, target lock counts as marksmanship now?" V remarked, sounding inexplicably bitter as she watched the scene unfold in the rearview mirror.
Wasn't this smart weaponry just downright cheap?
Rebecca, however, just grinned and tilted her head back, snuggling deeper into his embrace. "Not bad shooting~ See, shotguns are way better, right?"
Only then did Mercer realize how intimate their position had become.
Rebecca giggled, her arms now wrapping around him as she sat facing him. "Don't squirm, what if you fall?"
"Damn it," V muttered under her breath, "What are you two doing?!"
"Hey, since we're already here," Rebecca chuckled, her Gorilla Arms securing Mercer in the passenger seat like a seatbelt.
Mercer merely let out a soft laugh and didn't resist; after all, he was just a frail netrunner; what could he possibly do?
Turning his head, Mercer glanced at Bruce, who seemed to be sulking. "Hey, you holding up alright?"
"I'm fine," Bruce grumbled in response, lost in his thoughts.
"Ease up a bit, don't crush me. Move over, I need to activate the cooling system." As soon as Mercer spoke, Rebecca loosened her grip with a playful laugh, relaxing into a more comfortable position in his lap.
Then, Mercer launched the Watch Dogs program from his cyberdeck, putting Morning Star to work.
[Morning Star: Utilizing city traffic systems to plot a route for you.]
[Morning Star: Maelstrom vehicles marked via urban surveillance cameras. Analyzing optimal escape routes. Estimated time: 52 seconds.]
[Morning Star: Three evacuation routes have been identified for you.]
Mercer glanced at the map displayed by Morning Star and couldn't help but smile.
[Mercer: Send the third evacuation route to V's cybereye. Well done, Morning Star.]
[Morning Star: I recommend you expedite the completion of the ctOS. The current method of analysis and planning remains inefficient without utilizing the computing resources you provide me.]
[Mercer: Now you're rushing me? Fine.]
[Morning Star: I am merely offering a suggestion. The ctOS you conceptualize is truly remarkable. Once developed, it will enable me to provide you with better service.]
Mercer didn't respond further. After sending the evacuation route to V, he heard her exclaim, "What the hell did you just push to my cybereye?"
"Evacuation route. Follow it," Mercer replied.
V rolled her eyes. "No shit it's an evacuation route! I mean, how is this thing so detailed? It's even marked traffic jams, red light durations, recommended speeds, hell, it's suggesting overtaking lanes! This is insane!"
Mercer rubbed his slightly overheating head. "It better be."
The current method, relying on AI to scrape data and perform real-time calculations, was still too crude. Just maintaining a simple route and monitoring a few vehicles was already causing noticeable thermal buildup in his head. If they ever tried to surveil the entire city, his brain would fry. And this was with the AI handling the processing, sparing him from direct analysis.
It was clear: developing the ctOS and securing a dedicated server for Morning Star had become imperative.
The system proved its worth almost immediately. According to the real-time map data provided by Morning Star, several Maelstrom vehicles were visibly falling behind. Others that had taken alternate routes, attempting to intercept at highway exits, stood almost no chance of catching up.
Every intersection they passed turned red at just the right time. Even NCPD patrol cars were subtly redirected into the Maelstrom's path. While the NCPD typically turned a blind eye to minor infractions, they couldn't ignore Maelstrom members blatantly running red lights and speeding; once noticed, they had to intervene.
In other words, once Morning Star began leveraging the NCPD database to simulate ctOS functionality, the Maelstrom had effectively lost any chance of catching Mercer.
Meanwhile, every NCPD unit along Mercer's escape route became clearly visible on his map; he could even overhear dispatch chatter about his own pursuit.
[NCPD Radio: All units, be advised: reports of extreme speeding and gunfire on the eastbound highway toward the suburbs. Suspected Maelstrom engagement with unknown targets. Acknowledge?]
[NCPD Officer: 3-0-1, acknowledged. En route to highway.]
[NCPD Officer: 3-0-22 calling dispatch, severe speeding incident in Watson District. Requesting backup. Unknown who provoked these maniacs, they're running red lights at high speed and appear to be targeting people on the expressway.]
[NCPD Officer: 3-0-1 to dispatch! What's wrong with the traffic signals today? All I'm getting are red lights! Can you clear me a green route?]
[NCPD Radio: Dispatch received, coordinating now.]
[NCPD Officer: 3-0-1 calling, any license plate or vehicle characteristics?]
[NCPD Radio: Cameras are currently being jammed. Suspects may have installed signal interference devices, no visual ID possible. Only confirmed Maelstrom vehicles visible. Currently gathering details about the second vehicle from the complainant.]
Mercer switched off the NCPD internal comms with satisfaction.
V drove the Mackinaw, effortlessly steering it out of the city limits; beyond this point, NCPD rarely pursued.
Out in the Badlands beyond Night City, there were no urban surveillance cameras to help NCPD track suspects. If you walked into an ambush here, you'd die for nothing; backup would never arrive in time.
Unless you'd directly provoked NCPD, they generally didn't pursue ordinary crimes relentlessly. Night City saw countless violent incidents daily; if they chased down every one, NCPD officers would never clock out.
As for the "secret base" Bruce had mentioned, it was actually the abandoned tunnel where players can freely acquire a Caliburn in the game.
By 2077, Raffen Shiv had taken over this tunnel as their covert hideout, with the Caliburn stashed inside one of the containers.
It was unclear why Raffen Shiv hadn't discovered what was inside that container, but regardless, it remained Bruce's territory for now.
V drove the Mackinaw into the deserted mountain tunnel and asked curiously, "What was this place originally for? They carved through a whole mountain, built a road, and even wired it for lighting."
"Probably used for smuggling," Mercer said, then added with sudden bitterness, "After Dogtown emerged, smugglers in Night City really drew the short straw."
As they drove deeper, Bruce suddenly spoke up: "Right here. See that container? Open it and go inside, there's a hidden room."
V parked the vehicle. Bruce struggled to his feet, stepped out, and walked over to what appeared to be a randomly discarded container near the tunnel wall. After some tinkering, the container door swung open.
Inside sat the Caliburn that Mercer had been dreaming of.
The black sports car sat there unassumingly, with several toolboxes and a table arranged behind it.
"This container is your secret base?" V felt a tinge of disappointment.
Without a word, Bruce walked to the table, opened a wardrobe, felt around inside, and flipped a hidden switch.
A low rumbling sound followed. V turned to see a section of rock wall slide open.
Beyond it was a carved-out room, roughly twenty square meters, something even Mercer hadn't encountered in the game.
"Come in. We need to talk."
Bruce limped toward the room, passing by the black Caliburn when the car suddenly flashed its headlights: "I logged out of the vehicle system. Weren't you interested in it? It's yours now, consider it payment for saving me."
"Holy shit, man. I really think you're a good guy now." V's breathing grew heavy. If someone had handed her a few million eurodollars straight up, she might not have reacted like this, but this was a Caliburn!
For street kids, aside from making a name for themselves, their lifelong desires were things like big gold chains, luxury watches, fancy cars, and lavish homes; these were also among their life goals.
And for the vast majority of street kids, a high-end Quadra Type-66 muscle car or a modified, top-tier Mizutani Shion was the peak of their aspirations.
A Caliburn?
Damn, she wouldn't even dare to dream of it!
"You can drive it to your heart's content later." Mercer chuckled, following Bruce into his secret base hidden in the tunnel.
Once inside, Bruce took out a medical kit, first giving himself an injection, then pulling out a hemostatic bandage.
Mercer took it and skillfully wrapped up Bruce's severed left shoulder: "Lucky they stopped the bleeding for you, even if they were a bit rough about it."
"If searing your arm shut with a flamethrower counts as stopping the bleeding, then I guess we should thank them." Bruce's voice was hoarse as he spoke, taking out a MaxDoc and taking a few deep inhales from it.
After the painkiller took effect, Bruce's expression finally relaxed a bit: "Give me a moment to recover... I'll need you to take me to a ripperdoc."
"Sure." Mercer casually found a table to sit at: "Let's talk. Where do you want to start?"
Bruce turned to look at Mercer, his tone calm: "I think we might as well start with your introductions?"
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9300 words.
Bonus chapter @600 power stones.