"Is this what you spent over ten million eurodollars to create?"
Hansen questioned him expressionlessly as he watched Mercer descend from the sky, open his helmet's faceplate, and rub the corner of his brow, looking somewhat weary.
Mercer, however, just gave a casual "mhm" before immediately turning his head to communicate with a nearby technician: "The response time for the compression thrusters on the limbs, which are responsible for fine-tuning, is a bit slow. We might need a separate processor to manage rapid response..."
Watching Mercer start communicating with the researchers as if no one else was there, and seeing that those researchers were actually ignoring him as well, listening to Mercer with serious expressions, Hansen's brow couldn't help but furrow slightly.
But Hansen just watched his surroundings impassively. Only after Mercer finished communicating with the researchers, stepped out of the armor wearing just a custom-made nanoweave netrunning suit, did he continue his questioning: "Is this new equipment too?"
"Yes, a new nanoweave netrunning suit. It combines the heat dissipation of a netrunning suit with the muscle enhancement of a nanoweave suit, and it's adapted for my new cyberware, with slots reserved for the heat vents. In fact, the mech's interior also has a matching heat dissipation structure."
Mercer once again explained casually, then turned his head to look at another researcher. "What are the test results for the EMP module?"
"The experimental results are currently excellent. Within a 10-meter range, it has basically reached the parameters we set."
The researcher nodded, then sighed in admiration. "For a micro-EMP device to achieve a ten-meter range with this kind of intensity is truly incredible."
"Take it over for a power test. See if the power decay efficiency after ten minutes at full load meets expectations..." Mercer methodically arranged the follow-up work, and the other researchers quickly carried the armor away to continue testing.
Only then did Mercer turn his head back to look at Hansen, a smile on his face. "Colonel Hansen, are there any other questions?"
"..." Hansen didn't speak, merely staring at Mercer. After a long moment, he said directly, "Until this equipment you've built is sold, funding is temporarily unapproved. I've also shown the information on your Octopus Arm to clients, and many are very interested. Later, you'll need to create a detailed promotional report for me. It must make the advantages of our product clear to the clients at a glance, and you need to give me a reasonable price quote."
Mercer just nodded. Then, Hansen continued, "What about the Relic biochip matter?"
"None of the damaged biochips can be restored at the moment. It will take a certain amount of time, and most importantly, money," Mercer said bluntly. "I've already submitted the quote to finance, but it wasn't approved."
"I know you must still have some that aren't damaged."
Hansen stared at Mercer and said point-blank, "I've already talked it over with the Cubans and Militech. Whether they're intact or damaged, the price is very good. You should know that holding onto that thing is more harmful than helpful to you. Selling it off early will also stop Arasaka's people from keeping an eye on you."
"I know," Mercer nodded, then said with a hint of helplessness, "but they really are all damaged. It was impossible for me to leave something like that at the base. At the time, I thought the safest place was on our persons."
Of course, this was a lie for Hansen's benefit. Mercer still had five perfectly intact Relic biochips, but how could he possibly sell something like that for money?
The part about repairing them was also a lie. Mercer had no intention of fixing them at all. What was the point of having so many? The cost to repair a single one was in the tens of millions of eurodollars, with no guarantee of success. Besides, the Relics he possessed were merely prototypes.
With the effort it would take to repair one, Mercer would rather build a new one from scratch. If he delved into research and development, he might even create something better than the current Relic.
The only problem was that he truly didn't have the time. He was a genius, not a god. Even working eighteen hours a day, his energy was finite.
Although it seemed like his productivity had suddenly exploded in the production workshop at EBM Petrochem Stadium, the truth was that he could manufacture these items so quickly because he already had the relevant design concepts and even blueprints.
The reason he could only produce them at the stadium was twofold. First, Hansen had opened up the supply of raw materials and smuggling channels, helping Mercer acquire scarce resources.
This included the materials for the advanced thermal imaging module, which allowed the base's cameras to have anti-optical camouflage thermal analysis capabilities. Mercer had only obtained these precious materials because he had bowed his head to Hansen, who then opened up the supply.
The second reason was more direct: money.
Setting aside the cyberware and armor, two major expenses costing tens of millions of eurodollars, the Octopus Arms alone, which had drastically increased Mercer's production speed, were priced in the millions of eurodollars. This was already the total sum of the team funds Mercer had accumulated so far.
Developing equipment was not a guaranteed success. In fact, the funds lost during the development process for Mercer's current series of equipment amounted to tens of millions of eurodollars. And that was with Hansen charging him at cost; if Mercer had to buy the materials himself, the price would have doubled.
This also made Mercer realize that he absolutely could not rashly try to eliminate Hansen. Although he often disparaged the man in his thoughts, Mercer had to admit he was impressed by Hansen's outstanding connections and trading skills.
To be able to build a global smuggling network from scratch and find suppliers for almost any material was a testament to how astonishing the man's abilities were.
And even when faced with the somewhat arrogant and talented Mercer, Hansen could suppress his own character flaws to make the best use of him, which showed that he was a formidable leader capable of great things.
In any case, if Mercer were in Hansen's position, he definitely wouldn't dare to use someone like himself in this way.
But Mercer was also well aware that his honeymoon period with Hansen would come to a complete end as his own strength and talent became more apparent.
To Hansen, a tool he couldn't control was as good as no tool at all. The optimal solution would be to squeeze every last drop of value from him and then sell him off at a high price.
At this moment, after Mercer said he had no more Relic biochips, Hansen simply replied faintly:
"Got it. Then you should rest for a while. Once the items are sold, we'll discuss the additional research budget. You've done a great job."
And it was this very sentence that raised the alarm in Mercer's mind to the red line.
Mercer rubbed his face, a weary expression appearing. He spoke tentatively, his voice somewhat weak, "Is that so... Alright, then. I'll head back to base and get some rest. I'll come back whenever there's work for me."
"You can. I've recently screened Barghest, and those bastards who were secretly colluding with Arasaka have all been strung up at the entrance to Dogtown. The cameras have also been doubled, just as you suggested, and I've cracked down hard on Dogtown's smuggling routes. So you can go back and rest without any worries."
Hansen smiled. "Of course, could we use those Octopus Arms of yours in the weapons production workshop? The few basic firearms you developed are selling quite well in Night City. Your Glock series now accounts for 40% of Night City's low-end weapons market."
A confident smile appeared on Mercer's face. "Sure. I'll adjust the programming later and write a production process routine for them."
"Good. Thanks for your hard work. Go on back and rest," Hansen said with a nod and a smile before turning to leave.
After he was gone, Mercer's expression remained unchanged, but a heavy feeling sank into his heart; this was bad.
The kindness and gentleness Hansen had just shown him made Mercer realize that his time was likely running out.
With almost no hesitation, Mercer immediately sent a message to V.
[Mercer: I'm making my move.]
[V: Now!?]
[Mercer: Yes, now.]
[V: We're heading out immediately. You be careful.]
[Mercer: Don't worry about me. Watch out for yourselves. Go.]
After sending the message, Mercer immediately looked to the researcher beside him.
"Where are the Octopus Arms? I need to do one last test on the maximum Octopus Arm payload." As Mercer finished speaking, the researcher immediately brought over several multi-functional Octopus Arms.
Mercer turned around. The cover plates for the pre-installed ports on his nanoweave netrunning suit opened, revealing six sockets on his shoulders and lower back.
"Director... you should be more cautious with this kind of exotic cyberware. Connecting six Octopus Arms at once, considering your current cyberware load..."
A researcher hesitated, not daring to plug them in. In his view, Mercer was truly a bit insane.
Mercer, however, just said with a calm expression, "Plug them in. Run the test."
The others exchanged glances but could only obediently place the Octopus Arms into the sockets.
The weight of the six heavy Octopus Arms nearly bent Mercer's back, but as they powered on, the six arms flexibly braced themselves on the floor and slowly lifted him up.
Mercer's feet dangled in the air as he adapted to the strange sensation of having six extra limbs. Soon, he was moving freely around the room, using the Octopus Arms to walk.
The cover plates on his back all popped open slightly. Heat vents resembling shark gills appeared on his shoulders and chest, and a humming sound emanated from his thoracic cavity. Just from the basic use of the Octopus Arms, a temperature monitor had already popped up in his cyberoptics.
Mercer, expressionless, continued the test, maximum speed, maximum power output. He even had people rapid-fire at him with six pistols from six different directions at a distance of 20 meters, while he simply used the Octopus Arms to block the shots from a stationary position.
To Mercer, this scene was quite cool, but to onlookers, it was inexplicably terrifying: six menacing mechanical tentacles extended from a man's back, yet they nimbly blocked bullets as if they were alive.
The temperature warning in Mercer's vision soared to 42 degrees Celsius, but he simply ignored the alert and continued the test. He only stopped after five magazines had been emptied to check the Octopus Arm's performance.
The Octopus Arm itself was somewhat overheated from the high-speed operation, but its mechanical performance remained stable. And thanks to the material and component upgrades at the EBM Petrochem Stadium, its performance had improved by more than just a little compared to the initial version.
A single Octopus Arm's maximum output reached an astonishing 5.5 tons. This meant that if Mercer were to swing the Octopus Arm like a whip, the instantaneous speed of its tip would exceed the speed of sound several times over.
At the point of impact, it could inflict an incredibly terrifying physical force.
Of course, if he swung it with full force like a whip, the mechanical hand component at the tip would certainly not survive the moment of impact; deformation was a given.
But even so, Mercer could guarantee that every time he safely whipped a target, he would inflict a destructive force several times greater than the arm's output.
Theoretically, even Adam Smasher would have to be sent back to the factory for a major overhaul if he took a solid hit. If it struck his head, it wouldn't be a problem to snap his metal spine.
Mercer nodded, then had someone detach the Octopus Arm. After waiting for the armor's hand and foot compression thrusters to be repaired for their delay issue, he put the armor back on and directly equipped the Octopus Arm onto the armor's reserved slots.
This time, the Octopus Arm's speed and power were even greater, as the armor's battery was far more powerful than his bioelectricity and the arm's built-in battery combined. The armor's internal processor also optimized the Octopus Arm's output, allowing Mercer more precise control.
A group of researchers, with expressions that were a mix of looking at a demon and a god, watched as Mercer, clad in armor, flew through the air like an alien monster, swinging the Octopus Arm and smashing metal targets to pieces.
After testing for over ten minutes, Mercer landed, took a few deep breaths, and drank some ice-cold NiCola to cool down. "It seems this is as far as I can take it for now."
"You've already done an outstanding job! To be honest, I have no idea how you managed it! With such a massive amount of data, let alone using a human brain as the core control, I don't think even an AI could perform to your level."
The researcher praised him, but then noticed that Mercer had no intention of taking off the equipment or detaching the Octopus Arm. Instead, he walked out of the firing range on his own.
A few researchers followed behind Mercer, somewhat bewildered, not knowing what he was about to do. It wasn't until he was about to leave the workshop that they hurriedly reminded him, "You haven't taken off the armor!"
"I know," Mercer said without turning his head.
"Director! The regulations don't allow us to take things out of the workshop without permission! Director! Director Mercer?"
The group of researchers realized Mercer was no longer responding to them.
"This is bad! It's Cyberpsychosis! Has the mental load become too great and sent him into a hallucination? Inhibitors, quick, prepare the inhibitors!"
A researcher suddenly cried out in alarm.
Mercer found it amusing, but still just waved his hand casually. "Now, listen to my orders. Stay put in the workshop. No one goes out. Understood?"
"Director! You can't..." A researcher ran over, his face full of urgency, trying to grab Mercer to snap him to his senses. But then, an Octopus Arm extended, casually grabbed his clothes, and tossed him aside.
The researcher was thrown aside like a doll caught by a claw machine with its grip strength maxed out, completely powerless to resist.
"I know what I'm doing. I'll repeat myself: stay inside. Come out when the door opens. Understood?"
Mercer stood at the entrance of the research workshop, half-turned, revealing a faint smile. "Working with you all is quite hassle-free, so do me a favor and don't cause any trouble. I'm still counting on you to work for me in the future. You're all smart people. I don't need to say more, do I?"
As soon as he said this, everyone instantly understood what Mercer was about to do. Some were so frightened they quickly took several steps back, while others were flustered and at a loss. However, to Mercer's surprise, someone actually hesitated for a moment before whispering:
"Are you making a run for it? Where to? Which corporation sent you an offer? I, I want to keep working with you!"
The corner of Mercer's mouth twitched into a smile. Without another word, he walked out of the workshop. Then, the workshop's metal door clicked shut and locked automatically. The entire research workshop was then bathed in red light.
The next moment, the researchers discovered that their communication software and cyberware permissions had all been locked.
"Holy shit, has Director Mercer really lost his mind!?" someone muttered, looking around in a panic. "No, we have to find a way to tell Colonel Hansen! Otherwise, if something goes wrong, we're all screwed!"
But others wore pensive expressions, as if they had thought of something but couldn't quite believe it, merely looking at the people around them with shared expressions of bewilderment.
Some, on the other hand, simply started trying to disable the door lock, planning to escape. "Dammit, I knew I shouldn't have left my old company to work here..."
But then, something terrifying happened.
Someone saw a horrifying scene on the surveillance monitor. "Those bots! Look! On our production line!"
Someone else leaned over for a look and immediately sucked in a sharp breath.
The Octopus Arms, which were supposed to be lying quietly in the production workshop, working 24/7, had now all stopped moving in unison. Instead, the bots that had just been produced and placed aside to await inspection suddenly began to move.
The expressionless bots walked over to several Octopus Arms. The Octopus Arms on the production line then suddenly began to open up the bots' shoulders, cutting slots and installing components. In just three minutes, two connection slots appeared on a bot's shoulders.
The Octopus Arms and the bots worked in coordination. Soon, the bot, which had been without any equipment, now had terrifying Octopus Arms sprouting from its shoulders.
The researchers couldn't help but swallow hard. But what was even more terrifying was that when someone tried to switch to other camera feeds, they saw an even more horrifying scene.
"The warehouse... the armor and bots in the warehouse... they're all moving on their own... Oh my god!"
Someone spoke with a trembling voice, and then everyone saw the warehouse where the bots and individual combat armor were stored. Its doors were now wide open, and a few Barghests who had been guarding it were already collapsed on the ground, sparks flying from their heads.
And those bots and individual combat armor were actually moving on their own!
A rustling sound echoed through the test workshop, followed by a female voice.
"Director Mercer, my master, has ordered me to take control of all electronic facilities in the EBM Petrochem Stadium. All research personnel are to immediately cease any interference with equipment operations and stop all attempts to transmit information. Otherwise, I will execute the kill command. Warning, I repeat, all research personnel are to immediately cease..."
As Morning Star's voice sounded, the door slid open, and several bots appeared in the doorway, carrying Barghest weapons that were still stained with a bit of blood.
The sight made the researchers gasp, but then, under the gaze of the bots, they obediently raised their hands and stood rooted to the spot, not daring to move.
One researcher, who fancied himself a skilled technician, even tried to secretly breach Mercer's lockdown program. But in truth, his actions couldn't possibly escape the notice of Morning Star, who was monitoring the scene in real-time.
Without any hesitation, a bot raised its weapon, aimed at his head, and pulled the trigger.
As blood splattered and a body fell to the ground with a thud, a female researcher let out a scream. Then, all the researchers consciously fell silent, remaining quietly where they were.
Morning Star nodded in satisfaction through a camera, then switched its perspective, shifting most of its attention to Mercer.
"Director Mercer!" As Mercer, clad in armor, walked out of the workshop, the Barghests on duty at the door immediately raised their guns to block his path, their stern expressions betraying a hint of nervousness. "According to the work regulations, you are not permitted–"
Before the two Barghests could finish, their heads suddenly exploded in a shower of electric sparks.
Mercer's heat sinks whirred, and the blue streams of data flowing across his helmet's visor were like a river carrying away the souls of the dead.
"I'm in charge here now."
Mercer's voice came from his helmet, almost in sync with the moment the two Barghests' bodies hit the floor. Not far from the door, a squad of Barghests responsible for both security and surveillance had already realized what was happening.
Two-thirds of them raised their weapons and aimed at Mercer without hesitation, but the instant they were about to fire, they found that Mercer's figure had suddenly vanished.
Among that group of Barghests, only a few soldiers equipped with neural acceleration cyberware could faintly see several whip-like afterimages flash past.
Then, the heads of the soldiers who had raised their guns were pulverized into a mass of human tissue in the blink of an eye, splattering across the walls, ceiling, and floor.
One surviving Barghest soldier didn't even have time to process what had happened. He dazedly touched the visor of his ballistic helmet, and his hand came away covered in crimson and bits of white. "F-fuck!"
"Let me repeat, I am taking over here now. Everyone, drop your weapons and submit to my authority. Further arrangements will be made after this is over."
Mercer repeated his words, and the remaining Barghests tremblingly dropped the weapons in their hands and immediately surrendered.
Anyone could tell that the current Mercer was not someone an ordinary person could handle. He was clad in matte black battle armor, and behind him, several octopus-like arms were slowly waving. The mere sight of him was enough to induce a terrifying sense of suffocation.
A few bots belatedly arrived to take their weapons. Some of them went to the workshop, while the others pointed their guns at the soldiers' heads, ordering them all to a sealed firing range to await further instructions.
One of the Barghest soldiers, with a flicker in his eyes, sent out an emergency communication. The next moment, nothing happened.
Mercer said nothing. He simply let the bot pull the trigger, executing the Barghest soldier, before continuing on his way.
The remaining Barghest soldiers trembled. One of them couldn't help but cry out, "Director Mercer! What are you doing!?"
The Barghest soldier next to him instinctively shuffled two steps away. What a fucking idiot. A rebellion! What else could it be? Just don't let the blood splash on me!
But Mercer, unexpectedly, replied in a calm tone, "Taking over Dogtown."
Only after Mercer had walked far away did a few Barghest soldiers finally dare to breathe heavily again. One of them muttered in disbelief, "Taking over Dogtown? My god, did he get so chromed up that he's gone full cyberpsycho?"
A bot behind him suddenly smashed the butt of its rifle into his head, then spoke in a cold, angry mechanical voice, "Show respect to the master."
Hearing this, the other Barghest soldiers couldn't help but swallow hard. Holy shit, there's a rogue AI too!?
Meanwhile, Mercer walked straight toward the Barghest training grounds in the EBM Petrochem Stadium as if no one was there. Simply put, to leave this place, one had to pass through the camp where this group of Barghest soldiers was stationed, which was why only one squad of Barghest had been left in the workshop.
The moment Mercer's figure appeared, someone immediately realized something was wrong. Some raised their weapons, while others quickly called for their superior officer.
Finally, the one who appeared before Mercer was Bennett, his face contorted with rage, clad in a suit of black Tank armor. "Damn it, I knew you were an unreliable bastard! Take off your equipment right now, and I can still plead with Colonel Hansen for you. But if you insist on being stubborn..."
Even facing the now-intimidating Mercer, Bennett showed no fear. He glared at Mercer, the shoulder cannon on his armor aimed at his face, and gripped a large shotgun. "The dozens of chooms here aren't joking around!"
Mercer just tilted his head. "You're not afraid? You should know better than I do that this suit of armor I'm wearing isn't some common, mass-produced junk like yours."
"You? A brat in a suit of armor?" Bennett laughed, then his gaze turned cold. "I'll make you regret choosing to be a traitor."
But Mercer just stood motionless on the spot until Bennett's expression changed again and again, finally questioning in a strained voice, "What did you do?"
"You didn't think I spent all this time in the base just tinkering with this equipment for myself, did you?"
Mercer's voice was laced with mockery. Even though he was the one surrounded, he still appeared perfectly composed.
"The jamming transmitter, the EMP blast, hiring an outside netrunner to plug a drive into the server to try and upload a virus into my head, secretly adding a locking device to my equipment, and even preparing a neurotoxin that could seal off the entire EBM Petrochem Stadium in an instant... Oh, and for the equipment that was already produced, you found someone to change the programming and revoke my control permissions... But have you ever considered something? For a netrunner, you're all just making minor edits to the system I wrote, scribbling all over the program I coded... Besides defiling my code, what's the actual point?"
As Mercer's playful voice faded, Bennett's expression suddenly changed. His arm had stopped obeying him, or to be more precise, the Tank armor he was wearing suddenly seemed to have a mind of its own!
He slowly raised the shotgun in his hand, aiming it at his own chin!
"I know Colonel Hansen must have found some experts, but what I want to know is, are the experts in your eyes really all that expert? I also know you took special care to disconnect all these little surprises you prepared for me from the network. But unfortunately, I seem to be a bit of a spoilsport. I already unwrapped all those gifts beforehand."
Several small spiderbots were now scurrying through Barghest's ventilation ducts; they were the ones that had previously disabled all the deadly traps.
And the Barghest soldiers were completely unaware of the existence of these spiderbots.
Mercer calmly stared at Bennett's face. At that moment, dozens of Barghest soldiers simultaneously raised their guns and aimed at Mercer, many of them wielding heavy firepower.
"Stop! If you kill Bennett–"
Before a Barghest soldier could finish, Mercer's gaze shifted eerily toward him. He spoke, enunciating every word, "In five seconds, those who lower their weapons will live. Those still holding them will die. We've been colleagues for a while, after all. If possible, I'd rather not crush your skulls with my own hands."
Bennett's eyes were wide with fury. He struggled desperately against his own armor, which even began to creak and groan under the strain. But in the end, his hand still gripped the shotgun tightly, aimed squarely at his own head.
"You're finished, Mercer! You're finished!" Bennett was still trying to threaten Mercer into lowering his weapon. "What can a netrunner like you do, even in a suit of armor? Even if that paramour of yours, V, came here, she wouldn't be able to–"
"Five," Mercer interrupted him and began the countdown with a deadpan expression. He was surrounded by all kinds of weapons, yet he just calmly counted down, right on schedule.
"Four."
Some of the Barghest soldiers began to hesitate, torn between opening fire and surrendering. But at that moment, Bennett suddenly roared, "Fire!"
A few of the Barghest soldiers pulled their triggers without hesitation.
A swinging Octopus Arm violently batted away several bullets heading for his head, and then, Mercer's figure abruptly vanished.
Bennett's eyes widened. That lunatic actually integrated a Sandevistan into his cyberware?
But it didn't matter. Barghest had dealt with similar opponents before...
Just two seconds later, Bennett's lips began to tremble uncontrollably.
Because the heads of the Barghest soldiers who had chosen to open fire were now erupting with blinding electric sparks.
"I've activated the electronic jammer!" one Barghest soldier roared, but then a blur streaked past, and an Octopus Arm smashed both him and the electromagnetic jamming device he was carrying to pieces.
Bullets filled the air, even colliding with each other in mid-flight. Hidden snipers struggled to lock onto their targets, only to find their cyberoptics displaying a hacked notification.
Mercer had forcefully taken over Barghest's server permissions, and the EBM Petrochem Stadium's cameras became his eyes. No matter where they hid, they were completely exposed to his sight.
Mercer didn't need to fire, didn't need a weapon. His brain was the most powerful weapon at this moment. Countless Quickhacks began to spread, and a virus with rapid infection properties started running rampant in the minds of the Barghest soldiers.
He even had time to finish the final countdown.
Then, one by one, the Barghest soldiers screamed and collapsed to the ground. Bennett watched in disbelief as his own hand pulled the trigger of the shotgun he was holding, his helmet had even automatically opened its faceplate!
A spray of blood and metal parts was blasted apart inside his helmet, while the other Barghest soldiers could do nothing but scream.
When the five-second countdown ended, Mercer's figure transformed into a violent meat grinder. The compression thruster on his back roared, and white steam billowed from his entire body, his cooling system working desperately to lower the temperature of his body and armor processors.
Mercer chose to spin. The moment his body began to rotate, his Octopus Arms whipped out like lashes. He crossed a distance of several dozen meters in the blink of an eye, and the Barghest soldiers around him were reduced to shredded flesh and blood.
When a conspicuous, bloody path appeared before the remaining Barghest soldiers, those who could still move almost simultaneously broke down and dropped their weapons.
"We surrender! We surrender!"
Mercer, however, simply began to clean up the battlefield with a blank expression.
At the same time, messages coming through his cyberoptics reported on V's progress.
[V: Sticking to the plan, dealing with key Barghest figures separately. I'm responsible for capturing Hansen alive as planned.]
[Mercer: I can come help right away.]
[V: What about the Barghest soldiers on your end!??]
Mercer turned his head and took a look.
[Mercer: They're almost all dead.]
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