"Dinner's ready!"
V's voice came from outside the door. Mercer didn't even look up as he replied, "Just leave a portion for me in the ice tub. I'll eat after I finish this."
V outside didn't respond, but after a moment, she slipped into the laboratory wearing protective gear.
Mercer glanced at her and shook his head helplessly. "You'll smell like disinfectant all over. Still think you'll have an appetite?"
"None of your concern..." V muttered as she approached. Unable to understand what he was doing, she watched for a while before speaking softly, "Panam told me."
"Told you what?" Mercer paused momentarily, then chuckled. "Ah, about the poisoning idea?"
"Yeah. What were you thinking?" V didn't accuse him, merely asking calmly for his perspective. "Was it just a passing remark, or did you actually consider it?"
Mercer always had these unconventional ideas, sometimes they were just flashes of inspiration he'd mention casually.
Other times, he'd say something offhandedly, then later ponder it and decide it was feasible enough to implement directly.
Mercer kept his eyes on the instrument readings as he spoke distractedly, "I did genuinely consider it."
"Seriously? This could trigger a major epidemic in Night City ahead of schedule!" V frowned.
Mercer remained calm. "If it erupts early, we can detonate the crisis before Biotechnica is fully prepared. Without a vaccine ready in the short term, they'll inevitably face public condemnation."
"We could collaborate with media outlets, Kang Tao, Trauma Team, and other corporations, sharing virus data and vaccine development progress while attempting to drive Biotechnica out of Night City."
"Meanwhile, we could make a substantial profit and use the opportunity to purge Dogtown's hardline loyalists."
"As for the innocent Dogtown residents, we could provide free vaccines..."
He spoke a few more sentences before suddenly stopping his work, turning to look at V with an amused smile. "What's wrong? Your eyebrows are practically knotted together."
"Well, how should I put it... I don't really understand what goes through your mind, but..." V hesitated, leaving her sentence unfinished.
Mercer burst into laughter. "Alright, I'll stop teasing you. Even with all the potential benefits, I wouldn't actually do it."
V was taken aback, then punched his shoulder in annoyance. "Then why say all that? I thought you were determined!"
"More precisely, it's because I thought too much that I decided I'd better not proceed."
Mercer shrugged and sighed softly. "My rationality tells me this approach would be the fastest and most efficient solution."
"And according to my projections, if everything went smoothly, it genuinely wouldn't significantly impact the general public... But such things create precedents. If I could poison Dogtown today for so-called efficiency, tomorrow I might use the same justification to initiate a global biochemical war myself..."
"Ultimately, if I chose this method today under the banner of 'for a better tomorrow,' how would I be any different from those corporations that sacrifice ordinary people while preaching 'for humanity's future'?"
Mercer shook his head helplessly and comforted her, "Anyway, don't worry about it. Panam and I were just casually mentioning it. As for the vaccine, if I work a few extra nights and put in more hours, maybe I'll get lucky and develop it in just a few days?
Vaccine or drug development always involves an element of luck, after all.
You should focus your energy on guarding against Arasaka agents. Although Morning Star will help keep an eye out, the ctOS might not be able to monitor those high-level agents comprehensively. You'll still need to be extra careful.
Oh, and don't forget to stock up on survival supplies in advance, whether it's food or water..."
Now it was Mercer's turn to fuss over V, reminding her to take care of everyone else at home while he worked on the vaccine.
V suddenly felt a bit awkward, with Mercer saying all this, it seemed like she didn't trust him enough.
She hesitated, "Um, I understand... Just to be clear, it's not that I don't trust you. I'm just a little worried you're under too much pressure..."
Mercer curled his lips into a smile, "Oh~ I know~ It's definitely not because you're worried I'll turn into a bastard like those Biotechnica assholes."
"...Alright, fine, I am a little worried. Who told you to occasionally act like some mad scientist?"
V snorted and turned away, "I'm not putting the stuff in the ice tub. Finish up your work quickly and come out. Aren't you supposed to be smart? How come someone so clever can't even manage their work schedule properly?
We're having barbecue today. If you don't come, it might be gone in a few days. We won't have time to buy smuggled beef from Texas for you lately."
Mercer chuckled, "Got it. Remember to disinfect properly as Morning Star requires before you go out..."
The lab fell silent again.
Mercer shook his head, not dwelling on the conversation, but as he turned to look at the instrument readings, he couldn't help sighing in frustration.
Damn Biotechnica. We just dealt with you, and not long after, you're already planning to pull this disgusting shit in Night City again?
They say a dog can't change its habit of eating shit, and Biotechnica seems pathologically dependent on this profit model of poisoning people first and then selling the cure.
Whenever their financial reports show a shortfall, they pull this trick to boost revenue, right?
Mercer cursed inwardly, feeling heavy-hearted.
He didn't think Biotechnica would miss this money-making opportunity, which meant Night City was probably about to face another epidemic outbreak.
Mercer didn't want to clean up Biotechnica's mess for free, but what could he do to make them truly pay for their actions?
Just do mercenary work like before? Capture and kill Biotechnica's project managers?
That would be utterly meaningless. These so-called directors and supervisors were ultimately just expendable, replaceable assets within Biotechnica Corporation.
As long as there were profits to be made, as long as no one made them face real consequences for their evil deeds, Biotechnica would keep repeating this cycle.
Mercer didn't want to think about distant problems. He just wanted...
Even if it just meant driving Biotechnica out of Night City, that would be enough!
But to achieve this, it was impossible for him to accomplish alone.
Frustrated, Mercer waited until another round of experimental results came out. After recording the data, he disinfected himself, changed clothes, and went to the living room for a meal.
By then, everyone else had already finished eating, but V had kept his portion covered with a lid in the pot. He scooped out a serving for himself and sat down by the coffee table, mechanically eating while watching TV.
Until a man's figure suddenly appeared on the news broadcast, Jefferson Peralez.
Watching Jefferson passionately speaking at that moment, Mercer gradually straightened his posture.
"What I want to say is, as it stands, most of Night City's tax revenue is being wasted... Why do I say that?
Well, let's take a simple look at Night City's financial report from last year. What do you see?"
On the screen, Jefferson spoke calmly, expressing his political philosophy: "All I see are staggering expenditures on civil servant salaries and public spending. But I want to ask all of you, have you actually seen this money being put to good use in your daily lives?
The streets are still a mess. Take the roads in Heywood, for example, the ones torn up by the clashes between 6th Street and the Valentinos. How long has it been since that happened? Even now, no one has bothered to repave those ruined roads with cement!
Every time I drive through there, I have to slow down to a crawl, afraid of scraping the undercarriage of my car!
And what about the mayor's promised clean water initiative and food subsidy programs? Why is a gallon of clean water still 99 eurodollars? Where did the clean water go?
All I see are low corporate taxes and massive subsidies for corporations being fully implemented, while any funds or projects related to public infrastructure or so-called assistance programs are still stuck in the so-called 'implementation phase.'
Last year alone, we subsidized a total of 17 companies with a whopping 72 million eurodollars. But out of those 17 companies, only four are still operating normally, the rest have either gone bankrupt or been acquired.
And where are the jobs they promised? From the first quarter to the third quarter, our unemployment rate didn't drop, instead, it rose by two percentage points!"
Jefferson sighed, "And what we need isn't just jobs, but also healthcare and poverty assistance! Right now, a full 40% of people in Night City are struggling below the poverty line!
Can you imagine it? In a city filled with major corporations, 40% of the population still can't get enough to eat, while companies that operated for just six months before folding and absconding with funds easily walked away with tens of millions in tax money..."
Mercer watched as he engaged in a continuous debate with the host, focusing on healthcare, employment, and the crime problem that everyone in Night City knew about but felt powerless to address.
After a moment of contemplation, Mercer suddenly had an idea.
Relying solely on himself, perhaps he could achieve nothing, but if he could collaborate with an excellent city council member, working together based on shared interests and common goals, the outcome might be entirely different.
Whether it's Night City's severe crime problems, poverty issues, water and food shortages, or trash corporations like Biotechnica, all require the combined efforts of Night City's municipal government and other corporations to completely drive them out.
Jefferson Peralez, a man born from the bottom rungs of society who relied on Night Corp's scholarship to complete university, resolutely returned to Night City to pursue politics.
In terms of both his background and political philosophy, he actually shares certain similarities with Mercer in some ways.
Coming from humble origins, Jefferson deeply understands the hardships of the common people and holds considerable resistance toward major corporations. If they could talk...
They might genuinely achieve mutual benefits regarding the Biotechnica situation.
Jefferson could gain reputation, while Mercer wants to expel Biotechnica and ideally ensure they gain nothing from the potential upcoming infectious disease outbreak, leaving them thoroughly discredited.
Mercer could help them profit from the medicine sales, and the earned money could be reinvested into supporting Jefferson, accumulating wealth. Meanwhile, they could also ally with companies like Zetatech, SovOil, and Trauma Team, which have conflicting interests with Biotechnica.
The more Mercer thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. He immediately instructed Morning Star to arrange a meeting with Jefferson.
But then Morning Star suddenly gave him some good news.
[Morning Star: You actually don't need to actively seek a meeting opportunity. Do you remember Colonel Hansen mentioned awarding you the 'Medal of Honor' at the Black Sapphire?]
[Mercer: I remember. Are you saying Jefferson will be there that night?]
[Morning Star: Not only him, but also Night City's Mayor Lucius Rhyne, his deputy Weldon Holt, and other Night City elites.
Hansen has also invited journalists like N54 News' Gillean Jordan, planning to formally promote Dogtown's first medal ceremony...
I suspect his goal isn't just to firmly tie you to Barghest, but also to leverage your reputation and use your equipment to negotiate deals with others.
Hasn't he repeatedly urged you lately to quickly develop a mass-producible model of the Tank One armor and asked Miss V to conduct live combat tests at their firing range while wearing it?
I think he wants to use your newly developed equipment to attract investments and demonstrate military strength.]
Mercer snorted coldly: Fine. Let's see who ends up using whom.
What's the use of attracting investments? They'd still need him for production and further development. And once production capacity stabilizes and new developments are created, Mercer estimated it would probably be time to eliminate the goose that lays the golden eggs.
Whether Hansen wants to kill him or not remains unknown, but Mercer is determined not to keep him around much longer.
After dealing with the first wave of Arasaka agents' assassination attempts, when Yorinobu returns to try stealing the chip, Mercer plans to use this timing gap to eliminate Hansen and become Dogtown's boss.
After that, he'll try to find balance among the NUSA, Cubans, and Arasaka while establishing a corporation to expand influence into Pacifica.
What follows will be the fight for survival, as long as he maintains momentum, as long as he can kill Saburo Arasaka and gain Yorinobu's support, then Mercer will have the opportunity to firmly establish himself in Night City.
By leveraging Dogtown's advantages, they could rapidly advance their technological development and recruit combat personnel.
With territory, money, and manpower, Mercer finally had the qualifications to stand on the stage where he could influence Night City's situation and fully utilize his talents.
Of course, risks and troubles would undoubtedly multiply... but what easy and pleasant methods exist to change an entire city?
The television screen cut to a commercial break, and Mercer, as if waking from a dream, hurriedly finished his meal. He got up to wash the dishes, put everything away, and then turned back to his research.
[Mercer: Morning Star, I'm assigning you a task. Investigate and gather as much evidence of Biotechnica's crimes as possible.]
[Morning Star: Understood. However, considering the completeness of the evidence chain, I'd like to request a portion of funds from you to hire some journalists for evidence collection and filming.]
[Mercer: Take it. I haven't had many expenses recently, so you can decide how to use the funds. Just make sure to earn more for me.]
[Morning Star: Understood.]
Mercer handed the money to Morning Star and didn't bother with it further. He didn't even know how much money was in his bank account anymore, under Morning Star's management, the balance changed daily.
Basically, it was value-added all the time. Morning Star enjoyed playing short-term stocks, buying and selling by the second while simultaneously manipulating thousands of accounts.
Nearly every transaction achieved over 10% profits, and occasionally she would manipulate the market for bigger gains. The speed of earning money had almost eliminated Mercer's need to worry about daily expenses.
The benefit of being financially supported was that Mercer no longer had to fear suddenly spending all his money like before, relying on others to support him with their savings.
Now with Morning Star around, even others' personal funds were handed over to her for management and appreciation. If others didn't spend money so quickly themselves, relying solely on Morning Star could probably achieve financial freedom within a few years of idle living.
—--
While Mercer was fully immersed in his research, the development work within Barghest continued uninterrupted.
Without even leaving the base, Mercer guided the designers in Barghest's R&D workshop through online instructions. At an astonishing pace, within half a month, they manually replicated a tank-type personal armor in Barghest's classic yellow-and-black color scheme.
This armor stood at a remarkable height of 1.95 meters, though the actual user's height requirement was around 1.85 meters.
Without any weapon modules installed, equipped only with compact compression thrusters, thick armor, and a mechanical boost operating system, the personal armor was immediately tested by Hansen within the first hour after assembly.
Cautious as Hansen was, he wouldn't foolishly try it on himself first, instead, he had his trusted subordinate Bennett test it.
Bennett put on the armor without hesitation, his face full of excitement. Ever since he first saw Rebecca's precious little suit, he had been itching to try one himself.
He usually wore nano-combat suits, which even saved the cost of built-in nano-suits. Now, having just put on the armor with the designers' assistance, he couldn't wait to start moving his limbs.
In the central screen of the design workshop, Mercer's figure participated in this 'experiment' via video call.
"Holy shit, this thing feels amazing to wear! Heavy and powerful." Bennett said excitedly, the whirring sound and sense of power from the mechanical boosters as he casually moved his limbs satisfying him immensely.
Hansen, however, spoke with a calm expression: "How's the responsiveness?"
Bennett tested it out, taking a few steps in place and performing some tactical movements: "Uh, there's some lag. I estimate if we activate the Berserk system or go full throttle, the lag would be even more noticeable. If we activate the thrusters, it would probably become even clumsier."
Hansen turned to look at the screen in the design workshop, where Mercer spoke without looking up: "Put on the helmet. Without the helmet, you're basically just wearing an exoskeleton."
Their setup didn't include AI, and the operating system heavily relied on their own neural signals.
The built-in microcomputer originally intended for AI computation and consciousness signal conversion had been modified by Mercer into a processor similar to Arasaka's cyberskeleton neural conversion system.
Mercer knew exactly what constituted true core technology. The parts involving simple exoskeletal strength enhancement and compression thrusters were shared so generously with Barghest's designers precisely because they didn't contain much technological sophistication.
At most, the transmission system for mechanical boosters was better than what was available on the market, while the compression materials and engine technology for the compression thrusters were essentially condensed versions of Arasaka's essence technology.
These were indeed significant technological breakthroughs, but they weren't the key to Mercer's powerful armor, nor were they insurmountable technical barriers for others.
If these were sold on the market, anyone could just take them apart, have technical experts study them for a month or two, and basically replicate them about seventy to eighty percent.
Bennett didn't understand these things. He simply followed orders, and after putting on the helmet, a cold authorization request came through his neural link.
Without hesitation, he followed the operational prompts step by step to connect his neural link to the helmet. After activating the operational assistance system, he suddenly felt like the heavy armor on his body had become part of his own body.
Bennett tried raising his left hand, and to his astonishment, he discovered he could no longer feel the mech's presence at all!
He couldn't even distinguish whether he was raising his own left hand, the mech's left hand, or both simultaneously?
But undoubtedly, this ultra-low latency experience made Bennett immediately respond excitedly: "The lag is gone! Holy shit! I feel like I've completely merged with the mech now!"
Mercer spoke in a businesslike manner, preemptively shifting responsibility: "This equipment places a heavy burden on the nerves. In other words, it demands high user capability.
My recommendation is not to wear it for too long normally, preferably limiting it to under five minutes. This can best ensure your mental health and effectively avoid neural overload."
Hearing this, Bennett suddenly felt somewhat intimidated, but then he reconsidered and said confidently: "I've previously undergone training for operating the Basilisk and Militech Chimera tanks. Those things also rely on neural links. Shouldn't be a problem."
Hearing this, Hansen relaxed somewhat but still eyed Mercer suspiciously: "But your men always seem to be wearing their armor at all times?"
"As long as the neural link connection isn't activated, this suit is just an ordinary exoskeleton."
Mercer's reply mostly dispelled Hansen's doubts, and then Mercer added, "Besides, my people are genuine genius-level experts."
His confident words made Bennett curl his lip involuntarily, but then he just said excitedly, "I request to test it at the firing range. The compression thruster and the compatible smart weapons are the main highlights. I also want to check the compatibility with the Berserk system."
Hansen nodded and approved his request, while Mercer casually reminded him, "Don't use it for too long. For the first time, five minutes should be enough."
"No problem," Bennett said, then immediately got up and headed to the stadium's firing range for testing. In the spacious outdoor range, he tested his flight speed, turning speed, and even accidentally fell a few times. But each time, he got up without feeling any pain and continued testing excitedly.
Watching the strength, speed, and agility Bennett displayed, Hansen raised an eyebrow. As a seasoned veteran, he could tell at a glance just how much this armor enhanced an individual soldier. With such flexible mobility and ultra-thick armor comparable to a tank's, this thing was practically a small assault tank in urban combat!
He ordered Bennett to test various weapons, including shotguns, submachine guns, machine guns, smart weapons, and even the kind of melee weapons Rebecca used. He also tested Bennett's performance under the Berserk system. In the end, Hansen had to admit that this thing was indeed impressive.
Even he, if he activated his Sandevistan, wasn't entirely confident he could defeat this hunk of metal. Because if things went south, it could just take off, and if it lay on the ground, conventional weapons couldn't penetrate its armor. Under the Berserk system, its speed was ridiculously fast!
Although it couldn't match a Sandevistan at full speed, it wasn't completely defenseless. It was 20–30% slower than a Sandevistan user, but its armor was more than an order of magnitude thicker, and it had an absolute advantage in strength. If a Sandevistan user made even a slight mistake and got hit, it would likely be fatal...
Especially against ordinary soldiers, Hansen felt that if Bennett wore this armor to take on regular Barghest troops, even if they had defenses like Minotaurs, automated turrets, and vehicle-mounted machine guns, Bennett could just charge in bare-handed and zero out twenty of them. If you can't break their defense, aren't as durable, and aren't faster than them, the only chance of winning might be if someone could consistently target the relatively weak head armor and joint areas with precise shots...
But ordinary Barghest soldiers don't have that level of combat skill, only elite soldiers could pull that off. And how many elite soldiers would it take to overwhelm such an armored warrior? Not to mention, this thing could also be equipped with various types of heavy firepower!
If it started with a volley of long-range micro-missiles from its back, followed by sustained suppression from its shoulder cannon and heavy machine guns mounted on its arms, and then got up close to punch two enemies into pancakes with a single blow...
Hansen shook his head and said, "You can stop now, Bennett."
"No, I want to try again! Give me some practice targets, drones or something!" Bennett was still flying excitedly around the firing range, holding the machine gun as he blasted away at the targets until they were completely shredded, yet he still didn't stop.
"Bennett!" Hansen frowned, and only then did Bennett reluctantly cease his actions. He walked over to Hansen and tossed the machine gun, its barrel still smoking and hot, to a nearby Barghest.
"Got it, boss." He still looked somewhat regretful.
Hansen, however, cut straight to the point: "Turn off your neural link."
"What? I feel... there's no need. I'm not under any strain right now. I just think that kid was exaggerating. The first time I piloted a Basilisk, I operated it for a full two hours! My training partner threw up all over the vehicle, but I could still run five kilometers afterward!" Bennett spoke with reluctance, but as Hansen's gaze turned cold, he obediently removed his helmet.
However, the moment he took off the helmet, Bennett suddenly seemed to feel uncomfortable all over, and his head started throbbing with pain. Rubbing his temples, he looked puzzled. "Damn, the aftereffects are this strong?"
It wasn't just the headache, the most critical issue was that he could feel the exosuit and his body operating independently again. The sensation of transitioning from being one with the suit to becoming two separate entities made him feel as if he had suddenly lost an arm or a leg.
His entire body felt itchy, as if something was missing.
"Take off the armor and go see a doctor for a full check-up." Hansen's expression darkened as he decisively ordered Bennett to seek medical attention.
Bennett wasn't foolish either. While wearing the helmet, he had only felt excitement, thrill, and satisfaction. But the abnormal symptoms that appeared after removing the helmet made him realize the dangers of this suit.
More than the simple headache, what concerned him more was this feeling akin to 'withdrawal symptoms.'
He had only heard of similar incidents from some pilots. It was said that certain pilots who used neural links excessively would sometimes suffer sudden mental breakdowns, leaping from tall buildings because they mistakenly believed the ability to fly an aircraft was an innate skill of their own.
Bennett keenly sensed that his current feelings were somewhat similar. Even while walking, he found himself wanting to activate the thrusters on his back again...
And this was after just a few minutes of test flight!
"Something's not right, boss." Bennett gave his assessment.
Hansen nodded with a cold expression, then without another word, returned to the research lab. Staring at the dark screen, he said coldly, "Director Mercer, I need an explanation."
"An explanation for what?" Mercer's voice retorted as the screen lit up, revealing him once again in the frame.
"Bennett has ample operational experience and extensive firsthand knowledge of directly piloting vehicles via neural links. Yet, he still suffered from neural overload due to your armor and exhibited signs of potential psychological issues. I need an explanation, and don't give me that 'my people are special' excuse. I am well aware of the standard neural load limits for humans!"
Hansen questioned with a grim face.
Mercer simply wore an indifferent expression and sneered, "How about this, I'll go to your base right now, pilot that suit of armor myself, and operate it for twenty minutes right in front of you.
If I perform as usual, you'll approve an additional five hundred million eurodollars' worth of equipment for me, with no restrictions on its purpose or type. How does that sound?"
Hansen stared coldly at him. "I know you've pulled some trick on me."
"Wow~ You actually figured it out~" Mercer replied in an exaggerated tone. Meanwhile, in the design workshop, everyone was too terrified to make a sound.
Watching Hansen's darkened face through the camera, Mercer spoke bluntly, "I gave you the equipment, and you've seen the results. It's an experimental prototype, high load is normal.
If you can't handle it, maybe you should look inward. Have you been slacking off all these years? Not training hard enough? Not using your brains enough...
If you don't want this armor, I'll take it. My own people are lining up to use it."
Mercer said irritably, "Let me repeat this one last time, it's a first edition, an experimental product. My people can use it because they're just preem. What's Bennett's skill level?"
Hansen's expression grew increasingly grim. "Fine. In that case, let your people try it. That guy named Jackie, his build matches the armor almost perfectly. Let him test it, how about that?
I want to see whether it's a human problem or an armor problem."
For the first time in the video call, Mercer showed his full face, feigning anger. "Alright then. If my guy has no issues, what's in it for me?"
"Didn't you state your terms? Five hundred million eurodollars worth of equipment, for whatever purpose, as long as it's placed in the research workshop." Though furious, Hansen hadn't lost his composure.
Mercer chuckled coldly. "In that case, I've been interested in chemistry and medicine lately. I want a separate advanced sterile laboratory with full R&D and production equipment. How about that?"
"Agreed." After speaking, Hansen cut straight to the point. "Now, bring your man over immediately."
"Wait for it." Mercer ended the video call directly.
Hansen remained where he was, his face dark, not speaking for a long while.
Standing beside him, a seemingly refined Barghest whispered a reminder, "We can't keep spending recklessly. Last quarter's profits are already exhausted, and we still have outstanding payments for some items..."
Hansen replied expressionlessly, "I know. It's not like the laboratory can be set up in one day, right?"
The Barghest breathed a sigh of relief. As a newcomer who had recently joined the Barghest and was specializing in financial matters, the man named Jago was under considerable pressure.
Hansen, his face still stern, turned to several designers nearby and commanded, "Prepare the testing procedures. Keep a close watch on everything. I want to determine once and for all whether it's a design issue or a human problem. Understood?"
The designers exchanged glances. Finally, one of them spoke up, "Actually, the onboard computer has built-in–"
"Then switch to a system you wrote yourselves right now! And add a hacking alert for me, got it?" Hansen finally lost his temper, raising his voice. "What a bunch of fucking gonks, can't you see why I'm angry?"
The designers quickly nodded in agreement: "Yes, Colonel!"
The team hurriedly began searching for other inspection programs. Writing one from scratch now was impossible, but fortunately most of them had some technical reserves stored in their computers. They could temporarily find an old system, modify it, and install it on the armor.
One designer hesitated and quietly defended Mercer: "Colonel, the system Mercer designed is actually quite good. Neural load... is really hard to predict."
"I don't need you to tell me what's reasonable!" Hansen glared coldly at him, making the designer immediately lower his head.
Hansen didn't understand technology, but he understood people. Honestly, from a personal perspective, he admired Mercer's overflowing talent and his leadership in bringing his team together, including their team cohesion.
Turning a group of street punks into a collective that would follow him fearlessly into danger time and again, this was absolutely not something just anyone could achieve.
He could see that Mercer treated his people well, and precisely because of this, he could be certain: if this mech suit would cause severe abnormal reactions like Bennett's after just a few minutes of use, Mercer would never give it to his own people.
This was his judgment of Mercer, he wasn't the type to experiment with his people's lives.
Therefore, Hansen deduced that Mercer must have some secret method for reducing neural load hidden away.
Individual differences?
Hah. Hansen could acknowledge V's capabilities, but what about that young girl named Rebecca? Her naivety and foolishness were obvious from eight hundred meters away. Was he supposed to believe such a girl could handle more than Bennett?
Don't joke around. Bennett had undergone numerous professional trainings, while Rebecca probably didn't even know what it felt like to directly control machinery through a neural link before encountering the mech suit!
Hansen didn't believe Mercer had simply found a group of geniuses. He was almost certain there must be something fishy going on here.
With a grim expression, he gave a Barghest member a meaningful glance. The other immediately nodded and without a word, jogged off to secretly prepare the ultimate weapon against Mercer and the Kindling Squad.
A set of ultra-high specification ECM, theoretically capable of instantly blocking all of the opponent's network signals and then engaging in electronic countermeasures.
Moreover, this was a special ECM device that could launch ultra-high intensity EMP attacks at any time.
In fact, ever since he understood Mercer's capabilities, he had secretly had people prepare to activate the program every time he met with Mercer.
No matter how powerful the cyborg or netrunner, they couldn't withstand equipment attacks of this level.
If such ECM couldn't deal with them, he could always launch an EMP, forcibly paralyzing and disabling all electronic equipment, even rendering cyberware useless. And since Mercer didn't have a cyberdeck, he would be completely powerless.
To be honest, Hansen was growing increasingly homicidal. He absolutely hated being treated like a gonk, and he believed he had shown Mercer more than enough sincerity. Yet Mercer remained an ungrateful wolf that couldn't be tamed, even now, he was still playing petty games.
After waiting with a grim expression for a long time, Mercer finally arrived with Jackie, along with V and Rebecca in their armored suits.
Without wasting any words, Mercer cut straight to the point: "Where is it?"
Hansen stared darkly at the designers, who hurriedly explained, "Just a moment, we need to reload the detection system..."
"Heh..." Mercer chuckled, then simply crossed his arms and met Hansen's gaze fearlessly.
His utterly confident demeanor made Hansen, who had been one hundred percent certain he was up to something, suddenly doubt his own judgment.
After the designers spent twenty minutes fussing over the equipment, Mercer unhesitatingly ordered Jackie to put on the armor.
Only after the designers cautiously inspected it several more times did Jackie finally put on the helmet with clear irritation. "Alright, what now?"
"Head to the firing range. I'll provide drone targets and various other targets. We also have a dedicated CQB training house. Test it for ten minutes, then remove the helmet. I'll have someone assess your condition. That's all," Hansen said.
Jackie then swaggered off toward the range, helmet on, appearing to have already connected directly to his neural link.
Hansen didn't follow. Instead, he stayed in the room, turning on the monitor and closely watching the readings on the detection equipment.
It would take some time for Jackie to reach the firing range, and Hansen used the opportunity to turn to Mercer, saying meaningfully, "Seems you're quite confident."
"Seems you have very little confidence in me," Mercer shot back with the same phrasing. He had worn his helmet when he came out, but now he had lifted the faceplate, his expression visibly displeased.
Hansen sneered, "Since you're here, why not leave the armored suits of the two girls with us for some data checks?"
"No," Mercer turned to stare at him, his gaze icy. "Those are mine."
"Funding..." Hansen began, but before he could finish,
Mercer calmly stated, "I have complete financial records of all the funding related to Barghest. Want to see where your money actually went and whether it has anything to do with these two suits? Colonel Hansen, I believe I've given you more than enough face. You wanted me to stay in Dogtown, I haven't left since. You wanted free armor from me, I shared the technology. You wanted to award me a medal, I accepted. I don't know why you still distrust me so much. To be honest, if we really can't work together, I might consider which company would be willing to hire a new project supervisor."
Mercer spoke bluntly, "I'm sure they'd be happy to build me a private research facility in some scenic location, give me a cut of the projects, and honestly, even if I wanted a team of maids to wait on me, it wouldn't be a problem. I think I've done more than enough, but clearly Colonel Hansen still has many complaints about me. In that case, let's keep things strictly business."
"From now on, I won't be responsible for any subsequent development of this armor suit. You can give me the profit share or not, I don't care. But if you still want to get technology from me, then pay up.
And don't expect to get design projects worth tens of millions of eurodollars from me for just a few hundred eddies anymore."
He genuinely seemed furious, even discarding the face-saving courtesy they had maintained between them all this time.
Hansen narrowed his eyes but managed to maintain his composure: "Now listen to you. Didn't I treat you well enough? I was even willing to give you an entire top floor in the Sapphire Tower, but your team refused.
Which of your research projects haven't I approved? I only asked you to work from the stadium facilities, and you weren't willing.
All this time, what actual results have you produced in the design workshop at the stadium?"
"Oh, the breaches of Militech weapon systems, the designs for new standard equipment, including the previous improvements to the Minotaur AI system..."
Mercer chuckled coldly, directly placing a hand on the shoulder of a researcher who was trembling beside him: "I remember you used to work at Arasaka?"
"Hai!" The researcher was so startled he blurted out in his native language.
"At Arasaka, for the projects I just mentioned, the ones I personally oversee, how long would it typically take to achieve results? How many personnel would be required? How much funding?"
Mercer's questions made the researcher hesitate to speak. He cautiously glanced at Hansen's expression, but Hansen simply said: "Tell the truth."
"Well, your progress has been remarkably fast. To be honest, at current Arasaka standards, all the projects you mentioned would require at least six months each, with project teams of at least forty people.
As for funding, depending on the project, it would generally range from several hundred thousand to several million eddies... Particularly your improvements to the Minotaur robot's AI system, that could definitely qualify for project approval of several million eddies..."
The researcher answered honestly, even casting an admiring look toward Mercer. Despite the surprisingly young face revealed when Mercer opened his helmet visor, the researcher genuinely respected Mercer's capabilities.
This forced Hansen to soften his tone somewhat: "But every time you delivered results, didn't I approve special bonuses for you?"
"I suspect that if I embezzled two million eddies for entertainment at Arasaka, then used just one million to complete the project, my superiors would still be fawning over me. What do you think?" Mercer's words left Hansen speechless.
But Mercer wasn't finished. Staring directly at Hansen, he delivered a thundering question.
"So, Colonel Hansen, I want to ask, with things having come to this point today..."
Mercer sighed, then spread his hands: "Whose fault do you think it is?"
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6300 words
Bonus chapter @500 power stones
I'm translating a new story, "Monster Hunter:The Wilderness Compass." I'll drop the link in the chapter comments for anyone who wants to check it out.