Cyberpunk: Starting in 2071

Chapter 119 Take action!

"This is what you spent over ten million euros to produce?"

As Hansen watched Mercer fall from the sky, open his helmet visor, and rub his temples and feet looking somewhat tired, he questioned him expressionlessly.

Mercer simply grunted in response before turning to speak with the technician beside him: "The compression thrusters, which are responsible for fine-tuning the controls, are a bit slow. We might need a separate processor to manage a faster response."

Hansen frowned slightly as he watched Mercer begin to communicate with the researchers, who in turn ignored him and listened attentively to Mercer's words.

Hansen simply observed his surroundings without showing any emotion. Only after Mercer finished communicating with the researchers and emerged from the armor, wearing only a specially made hacker nanosuit, did he continue to ask, "Is this also new equipment?"

"Yes, the new nano-black customer service combines the heat dissipation of the black customer service with the muscle enhancement of the nano suit, and is compatible with my current new prosthetic body. It even has slots for heat dissipation vents. In fact, the mech also has a matching heat dissipation structure inside."

Mercer casually explained a few more things, then turned to another researcher: "The test results of the electromagnetic pulse component?"

"The experimental results are good so far, and the parameters we set have been basically achieved within a 10-meter range."

The researcher nodded, then exclaimed, "This miniature EMP device can reach a range of ten meters; such strength is truly incredible."

"Take it over and do a power test to see if the power attenuation efficiency meets expectations after ten minutes of full load." Mercer methodically arranged the follow-up work, while the other researchers quickly carried the armor back to continue testing.

Mercer then turned to Hansen and smiled, "Colonel Hansen, is there any other question?"

"Hansen didn't speak, but just stared at Mercer. After a long while, he said directly, "Until these equipment you made are sold, the funding won't be approved for the time being. I've also shown the information about your octopus arm to the clients, and many people are very interested."

Next, you need to prepare a detailed promotional report for me, making sure customers can clearly see the advantages of our product, and also provide me with a reasonable quote.

Mercer simply nodded, and then Hansen continued, "What about the Relic chip?"

“The damaged chips cannot be repaired yet; it will take some time. Most importantly, it costs money,” Mercer said bluntly. “I have already submitted the quotation to the finance department, but it hasn’t been approved yet.”

"I know you definitely have some that aren't broken yet."

Hansen stared at Mercer and said bluntly, "I've already reached an agreement with the Cubans and the military. Whether it's good or bad, the price is very good. You should know that keeping that thing is more harmful than beneficial to you. Selling it sooner will also stop the Arasaka people from keeping an eye on you."

“I know.” Mercer nodded, then said with a hint of helplessness, “But they were indeed damaged. I couldn’t leave such things in the base. At the time, I thought the safest place was on our own bodies.”

Of course, this was a lie to Hansen. Mercer still had five intact Relic chips, but why would he sell them for money?

As for repairs, that's a lie. Mercer never intended to repair them. Why would you need so many of these things? Repairing one would cost tens of millions of euros, and there's no guarantee it could be fixed. And the Relic he has is only a half-finished product.

Instead of fixing it, Mercer would rather build a new one himself. He could do some in-depth research and development, and it might even be better than the current Relic.

He simply didn't have the time—he was a genius, but not a god; even if he worked eighteen hours a day, his energy was still limited.

Don't be fooled by his seemingly explosive productivity in the stadium production workshop. In fact, the reason he was able to produce these things so quickly was because he already had the relevant design ideas and even blueprints.

The reason why it could only be made in a stadium is simply twofold: one is that Hansen opened up the supply and smuggling channels for raw materials, helping Mercer obtain scarce raw materials.

Even now, the base's cameras can perform thermal analysis against optical camouflage, all because Mercer bowed to Hansen, who then released the raw materials and provided him with valuable, high-grade infrared thermal analysis components.

The second one is more intuitive: money.

Leaving aside the prosthetic body and armor, which cost tens of millions of euros, the octopus arms alone, which greatly increased Mercer's production speed, cost several million euros, which is already the total amount of Mercer's team funds accumulated so far.

Developing equipment is never 100% successful. In fact, Mercer has already lost tens of millions of euros in the development of this series of equipment. And that was after Hansen calculated the cost price for him. If Mercer had to pay for it himself, the price would have doubled.

This also made Mercer realize that he must not rashly take action to eliminate Hansen—although he always secretly criticized the guy, Hansen's excellent connections and business skills still made Mercer have to admit his worth.

The fact that he could build a global smuggling network from scratch and find suppliers for almost all materials speaks volumes about his capabilities.

Even when facing the somewhat arrogant Mercer, Hansen was able to suppress his personality flaws and make the best use of him, which shows that this guy is a true hero capable of great things.

Anyway, if Mercer were in Hansen's position, he definitely wouldn't dare to use his own people like that.

But Mercer was also well aware that his honeymoon period with Hansen would come to a complete end as his strength grew and his talent became apparent.

For Hansen, a tool he can't control is the same as having no tool at all; the optimal solution is to squeeze out its value as soon as possible and then sell it at a high price.

At this moment, when Mercer revealed that he didn't have any extra Relic chips, Hansen simply said:
"I understand. You should take a short break during this time. Once the products are sold, we can discuss any additional research budget. You've done a great job."

It was this one sentence that raised Mercer's guard to a red line.

Mercer rubbed his face, revealing a tired expression, and tentatively said in a somewhat weak tone, "Oh, is that alright? I'll go back to the base to rest for a while, and I'll come back whenever there's work."

"Sure, I recently screened the Ghost Hounds, and those scum who secretly colluded with Arasaka were all hung up at the entrance of Dog Town."

The number of security cameras has been doubled as you suggested, and smuggling routes in Dogtown have been severely cracked down on. You can go back and rest now.

Hansen smiled and said, "Of course, could you put those octopus arms of yours into the weapons production workshop?"

The basic firearms you've developed are selling quite well in Night City. In the low-end weapon market of Night City, your Glock series accounts for 40% of the market share.

Mercer smiled confidently: "Sure, I'll adjust the program later and write a production process program into it."

"Okay, thank you for your hard work. Go back and get some rest." Hansen smiled and nodded, then turned and left.

After he left, Mercer's expression remained the same, but his heart grew heavy—something was wrong.

Hansen's kindness and gentleness made Mercer realize that his time was probably running out.

Without much hesitation, Mercer immediately sent a message to V.

Mercer: I'm about to take action.

[V: Now!?]

Mercer: Yes, now.

V: We're leaving immediately. Please be very careful.

Mercer: Don't worry about me, watch yourselves. Move along.

After sending the message, Mercer immediately looked at the researcher beside him.

"Where are the octopus arms? I need to do one last test, the maximum load capacity of the octopus arms." After Mercer finished speaking, the researcher immediately brought over several multi-functional octopus arms.

Mercer turned around, and after the nano-black customer service pre-installed socket cover on his back was opened, six sockets were revealed from his shoulders and back.

"Director, you should be more cautious about this kind of alien prosthetic. Connecting six octopus arms at once, considering the current strain on your prosthetics, is quite a stretch."

One researcher hesitated, not daring to insert it into him; in his opinion, Mercer was truly a bit crazy.

Mercer, however, simply said calmly, "Plug it in and test."

The others looked at each other, but could only obediently put the octopus arm into the socket.

The heavy six octopus arms almost bent Mercer's back, but as the power was turned on, the six octopus arms flexibly supported him on the ground and slowly lifted him up.

Mercer, with his feet in the air, adapted to the strange feeling of having six extra arms, and soon began to move freely around the room using his octopus arms.

The covers on his back popped up slightly, revealing cooling slits like shark gills on his shoulders and in front. A buzzing sound came from his chest cavity. While maintaining the basic use of his octopus arms, his prosthetic eyes popped out to monitor the temperature.

Mercer simply continued testing with a blank expression, at maximum speed and maximum output, including having six pistols simultaneously fire at him from six directions at a distance of 20 meters, while he simply stood in place using his octopus arms to block.

Mercer himself thought it was pretty cool, but to others it was inexplicably terrifying—six menacing mechanical tentacles extended from a person's back, and these tentacles deftly deflected bullets as if they were alive.
Mercer's temperature alarm spiked to 42 degrees Celsius, but he ignored the warning and continued testing until he emptied five magazines before stopping to check the performance of the octopus arm.

The octopus arm itself overheated due to high-speed operation, but its mechanical performance remained stable. Furthermore, thanks to upgrades to the materials and components at the stadium, its performance was significantly improved compared to the original version.

The maximum output of a single octopus arm reaches an astonishing 5.5 tons, which means that if Mercer swings the octopus arm like a whip, the instantaneous speed at the end of the arm exceeds several times the speed of sound.

At the point of attack, it can cause an extremely terrifying physical impact.

Of course, if it's swung at full force like a whip, the robotic arm at the end will definitely be destroyed and deformed the moment it hits.

Even so, Mercer can ensure that every time he safely strikes the target, he inflicts several times the force of his own effort.

In theory, even Adam's hammer, if hit hard, would have to be sent back to the factory for major repairs immediately. If it hit his head, it could easily break his metal spine.

Mercer nodded, then had the octopus arms removed. After the armor repaired the delay issue with the compression thrusters on the hands and feet, he put the armor back on and then directly equipped the octopus arms into the armor's pre-installed slots.

This time, the octopus arm was faster and more powerful because the armor's battery had a much higher capacity than his bioelectricity and the octopus arm's own battery. The armor's built-in processor was also optimizing the octopus arm's output, allowing Mercer to control it more precisely.

A group of researchers watched with eyes that seemed to be looking at a demon or God, as Mercer, clad in armor, wielded his octopus-like arms, flying through the air like an alien monster, smashing metal targets to pieces.

After testing for more than ten minutes, Mercer landed, took a few deep breaths, and drank some iced cola to cool down: "It seems that this is the only way we can go for now."

"You've done an outstanding job. To be honest, I don't even know how you did it! With such a massive amount of data, let alone a human brain as the core control, even if you had AI, I don't think AI could necessarily achieve what you've done."

The researchers praised him, but then they discovered that Mercer showed no intention of taking off his equipment or removing his octopus arm. Instead, he walked out of the firing range on his own.

Several researchers followed Mercer, somewhat bewildered, unsure of his intentions. It wasn't until he was almost out of the workshop that they hurriedly reminded him, "You haven't taken off your armor yet!"

“I know,” Mercer said without turning his head.

"Director! The rules say we can't take things out of the work area without permission! Director! Director Mercer?"

The researchers noticed that Mercer was no longer responding to their words.

"Damn it! It's cyberpsychosis! Has he been hallucinating due to excessive mental stress? Inhibitors, quick, prepare inhibitors!"

One of the researchers suddenly shouted in a panic.

Mercer found it amusing, but simply waved his hand casually: "Now, listen to my orders, stay obediently in the workshop, and nobody goes out, understand?"

"Director! You can't!" A researcher rushed over anxiously, trying to grab Mercer to bring him to his senses, but then an octopus arm reached out, grabbed his clothes, and tossed him aside.

The researcher was like a plush toy caught in a claw machine with all the parameters set, thrown away without any resistance.

"I know what I'm doing. I'll repeat myself: stay inside, wait for the door to open, then come out. Do you understand?"

Mercer stood at the entrance of the research workshop, turned halfway around, and revealed a faint smile: "Working with you guys is quite convenient, so please help me out and don't cause any trouble. I'll be counting on you guys to work for me in the future."

They're all smart people, I don't need to say anything more, right?

Upon hearing this, everyone immediately understood what Mercer was about to do. Some people were so frightened that they quickly took several steps back, while others were flustered and at a loss. However, to Mercer's surprise, some people hesitated for a moment and whispered:

"Are you running away? Where are you going? Which company offered you the job? I... I want to continue working with you!"

Mercer curled the corners of his lips, then walked out of the workshop without saying a word. The metal door of the workshop then clicked shut and locked itself, and the entire R&D workshop was lit up with red lights.

The next moment, the researchers discovered that their communication software and prosthetic body permissions had also been locked. "Damn it, Director Mercer has really gone mad!?" someone muttered, looking around anxiously. "No, we have to find a way to tell Colonel Hansen! Otherwise, if something goes wrong, we're all doomed!"

However, some people looked thoughtful, as if they had thought of something but couldn't believe it. They just looked at the people around them and showed a helpless expression.

Some people simply took matters into their own hands and tried to unlock the door, intending to run away: "Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have run away from the company to work here."

But then, something terrifying happened to them.

Because someone saw something terrifying on the surveillance footage: "Those robots! Look! On our production line!"

Someone came over for a look and immediately gasped.

The octopus arms, which had been lying quietly in the production workshop and working non-stop for 24 hours, suddenly stopped moving in unison. In their place, the robots that had been produced and placed aside to await inspection suddenly started moving.

The robots walked expressionlessly to the octopus arms, and then the octopus arms on the production line suddenly began to open the robot's shoulders, making grooves and installing it. In just three minutes, two connection grooves appeared on the robot's shoulders.

The octopus arms and the robot worked together, and soon, the robot, which had no equipment, grew terrifying octopus arms on its shoulders.

The researchers couldn't help but swallow hard. But what was even more terrifying was that when someone tried to switch to another camera, they witnessed an even more horrifying scene.

"The warehouse... The armored vehicles and robots in the warehouse are all moving on their own, my God!"

Someone spoke in a trembling voice, and then everyone saw the warehouse where these robots and individual armored soldiers were stored. The door was wide open, and some of the guard hounds were already lying on the ground with sparks flying from their heads.

And those robots and individual armored soldiers actually started moving on their own!
A rustling sound then rang out in the testing workshop, followed by a female voice.

"Director Mercer, my master, has ordered me to take over all electronic facilities in the stadium. All researchers are to immediately cease any interference with the equipment and stop any attempts to transmit information."

Otherwise, I will execute the extermination order.

Warning, and I repeat—all researchers must cease immediately.

After the voice of the Morning Star rang out, the door opened, and several robots appeared in the doorway, carrying the weapons of the Netherhounds, some of which were even stained with blood.

The researchers gasped at the sight, but then, under the gaze of the robots, they obediently raised their hands, stood still, and dared not move.

One person, who considered himself highly skilled, even tried to secretly crack Mercer's blocking program, but in fact, his actions could not be hidden from Morning Star, who was monitoring the scene in real time.

Without any hesitation, a robot raised its weapon, aimed it at his head, and pulled the trigger.

As blood splattered and a corpse fell to the ground with a thud, a female researcher screamed. Then all the researchers consciously remained silent and stayed put.

Qi Mingxing nodded with satisfaction using the camera, then switched the perspective, shifting most of his attention to Mercer.

"Director Mercer!" As Mercer, clad in armor, stepped out of the workshop, the Ghost Hound on duty at the door immediately drew his gun and blocked his path, his expression serious yet revealing a hint of tension: "According to the terms of service, you are not permitted."

Before the two hounds could finish speaking, a burst of electric sparks suddenly erupted from their heads.

Mercer's cooling system hummed, and the blue data beams peeking out from the helmet visor resembled a long river carrying away the souls of the dead.

"Now, I'm in charge here."

Mercer's voice came from his helmet, and almost at the same moment the two ghost hounds' corpses fell, a team of ghost hounds responsible for both security and surveillance, not far from the doorway, had already realized what had happened.

Two-thirds of them raised their weapons without hesitation and aimed at Mercer, but the moment they fired, they realized that Mercer's figure had suddenly disappeared not far away.

Among that pack of ghostly hounds, only a handful of soldiers equipped with neuro-acceleration prosthetics could barely catch a glimpse of whip-like afterimages flashing by.

Then, the heads of those soldiers with guns instantly turned into a pile of shattered human tissue, flying onto the walls, ceiling, and floor.

One of the surviving Ghosthound soldiers didn't even realize what had happened. He blankly touched the visor of his bulletproof helmet, and then his hands were covered in crimson and a little white: "Holy crap!"

"To reiterate, I am now in charge here. Everyone lay down your weapons and submit to control. We will make further arrangements after this is over."

Mercer repeated his words once more, and the remaining hounds trembled as they lowered their weapons and surrendered immediately.

Anyone would know that Mercer is no ordinary person who can handle him right now—he is dressed in a full set of matte black armor, and there are several octopus arms slowly waving behind him. Just looking at him gives people a terrifying sense of suffocation.

Several robots arrived late and took over their weapons. Some of them went to the workshop, while others pointed their weapons at their heads and ordered them to go to the closed firing range to await further instructions.

One of the hounds sent out an urgent communication with a glint in its eyes, but nothing happened the next moment.

Mercer remained silent, allowing the robot to pull the trigger and execute the ghost hound soldier before continuing forward on its own.

The remaining Ghosthound soldiers trembled, and one of them couldn't help but ask, "Commander Mercer! What are you doing!?"

The hound beside him instinctively took two steps back—what a fucking idiot, rebelling! What else could it be! Don't let the blood splatter on me!

But Mercer's tone was surprisingly calm: "Take over Dogtown."

After Mercer had walked away, the few hound soldiers finally dared to catch their breath. One of the hounds muttered in disbelief, "Take over Dogtown? My God, did he transform himself into that kind of cyber-psychotic?"

A robot behind him suddenly smashed his head with the butt of its gun, then said in a cold, slightly angry mechanical voice, "Please show respect to your master."

Upon hearing this, the other Netherhounds swallowed hard—Holy crap, there are even roaming AIs!?
Meanwhile, Mercer walked straight to the training base of the Netherhounds in the stadium as if it were his own backyard. Simply put, to leave this place, one had to pass through the camp where the Netherhounds were stationed, which is why only one team of Netherhounds remained in the workshop.

The moment Mercer appeared, some people immediately realized something was wrong. Some raised their weapons, while others quickly called for their superiors.

Finally, Bennett appeared before Mercer, his face full of anger, dressed in a black tank armor: "Damn it, I knew you bastard couldn't be trusted!"

Remove your equipment right now, and I might even plead with Colonel Hansen on your behalf. But if you remain obstinate…

Even when facing Mercer, who looked intimidating, Bennett remained fearless, glaring at Mercer with the shoulder cannon of his armor pointed at his face, gripping a large shotgun: "The dozens of brothers here aren't joking with you!"

Mercer simply tilted his head: "Aren't you afraid? You should know better than me that the armor I'm wearing isn't the ordinary mass-produced kind you're wearing."

“You? A little brat in full armor?” Bennett laughed, then his gaze turned cold: “I’ll make you regret choosing to be a traitor.”

But Mercer remained motionless until Bennett's expression changed repeatedly, finally prompting him to exclaim in disbelief, "What did you do?"

"You don't think I've been at the base all this time just fiddling with this gear, do you?"

Mercer's voice was somewhat mocking; even though he was the one surrounded, Mercer still appeared calm and composed.

"Large-scale electronic jamming equipment, EMP impact, hiring outside hackers to insert hard drives into the server to try and put a virus into my brain, secretly adding locking devices to the equipment, and even preparing a neurotoxin that could instantly lock down the entire stadium."
Oh, and they even had someone change the program on the already manufactured equipment, thus revoking my control permissions.
But have you ever considered this: to a hacker, all you're doing is deleting and modifying my system and scribbling on my programs?
What practical significance does it have besides tainting my code?

As Mercer's playful voice faded, Bennett's expression suddenly changed, because his arm suddenly began to act out of control—to be precise, the tank armor he was wearing suddenly seemed to have a mind of its own!
He slowly raised the shotgun in his hand and aimed it at his own chin!
"I know Colonel Hansen must have found a master, but what I want to say is, are the masters in your eyes really that skilled?"
I know you specially disconnected the internet for these little surprises you prepared for me, but unfortunately, I seem to have been a bit oblivious and opened all the gifts beforehand.

Several tiny spider robots were crawling around in the ventilation ducts of the Ghost Hound—it was they who had gone ahead to shut down those deadly traps.

The people of the Ghost Hounds, however, were completely unaware of the existence of these spider robots.

Mercer stared calmly at Bennett's face. At that moment, dozens of hounds almost simultaneously raised their guns and aimed at Mercer, including various heavy weapons.

"Stop! If you kill Bennett!"

Before the hound could finish speaking, Mercer's gaze turned to him, and he said, word by word, "Within five seconds, those who put down their weapons live, those who still hold their weapons up die."

Having spent some time with you all, if I could, I wouldn't want to crush your heads with my own hands.

Bennett's eyes were wide with rage as he desperately struggled against his armor, causing it to rattle and creak. In the end, however, he still gripped the shotgun tightly, aiming it at his own head.

"You're finished! Mercer! You're finished!" Bennett was still trying to threaten Mercer into dropping his weapon: "So what if you're a hacker, wearing a suit of armor? Even if your lover V came, she wouldn't stand a chance."

"Five." Mercer interrupted him, then began the countdown with a blank expression. Various weapons surrounded him, but he simply counted down at the standard time without any rush.

"Four."

Some of the hounds hesitated, unsure whether to fire or surrender, but Bennett suddenly shouted, "Fire!"

Some of the hounds pulled the trigger without hesitation.

With a swing of his octopus arms, Mercer deflected several bullets hurtling toward his head, and then his figure vanished abruptly.

Bennett's eyes widened—this madman actually integrated S.A.W.S. into his prosthetic body?

But that's alright, the Ghost Hound has dealt with similar opponents before.
Just two seconds later, Bennett's lips began to move involuntarily.

Because those hounds that chose to fire were now having their heads crack with blinding sparks.

"I've activated electronic jamming!" a ghostly hound roared, but then a blur flashed by, and he and his electromagnetic jamming equipment were smashed to pieces by an octopus arm.

Bullets flew through the air, even colliding with each other. The sniper, hidden in the shadows, tried desperately to lock onto his target, but then discovered that his prosthetic eye had been hacked.

Mercer forcibly took over the server access of the Ghosthound, and the stadium's cameras became its eyes. No matter where it hid, it was always clearly visible to Mercer.

Mercer didn't need to fire or use weapons; his brain was the most powerful attack at that moment. Countless rapid cracks began to spread, while viral programs with rapid infectivity began to run rampant in the mind of the Ghost Hound.

"one."

He even had time to complete the final countdown.

Then, one by one, the hounds suddenly howled and collapsed to the ground. Bennett looked in disbelief as his hand pulled the trigger of his shotgun—his helmet even opened its visor automatically!
A spray of blood mixed with metal parts was blasted into his helmet, while the other ghost hounds could only howl in agony.

After a five-second countdown, Mercer's figure transformed into a brutal meat grinder. The compressor thrusters on his back roared, and white mist billowed from his body as the heat dissipation system worked frantically to lower the temperature of his body and the armor's processor.

Mercer chose to spin—the instant his figure began to spin, his octopus arms lashed out like whips, and he covered dozens of meters in the blink of an eye, while the ghost hounds beside him were reduced to shattered flesh.

When a striking crimson path appeared in the vision of the Netherhounds, those Netherhounds who were still able to move almost simultaneously collapsed and dropped their weapons.

"Surrender! We surrender!"

Mercer, however, simply began cleaning up the battlefield with a blank expression.

Meanwhile, the messages coming through the eyes of the righteous ones reported on V and the others' progress.

[V: We are proceeding according to plan, dealing with the key figures of the Ghost Hound separately—I am in charge of capturing Hansen alive, as planned.]

Mercer: I can go help right away.

[V: Where's your ghost hound over there?! ? ? ]

Mercer turned his head and glanced at it.

[Mercer: They're almost all dead.]

(End of this chapter)