The entire airframe could be manufactured for just 100 eurodollars using a 3D printer, with the remaining 700 eurodollars in costs almost entirely going toward the chip, battery, and camera.
If they could later use Zetatech's nanolithography machines to achieve independent mass production of chips, and source stable, low-cost raw materials to manufacture their own integrated circuit boards and chips... then find a stable supplier for low-cost batteries and cameras, the overall price might be cut in half again.
If this simple drone could be compressed to under 500 eurodollars in cost, Mercer felt his "Martyr" drone might redefine Night City's current arms market.
Don't be fooled by this drone's limited flight altitude, low payload capacity, and mere ten-minute battery life at full speed under maximum load; on paper, these specs seem lackluster.
But considering each one can carry up to 8KG of explosives and swarm toward you at speeds up to 80KM/H...
Mercer assigned this task to Kyoko, who usually had little to do, putting her in full charge of 3D printing and assembly. His only requirement was to produce as many as possible, as quickly as possible.
He had already decided who would be the first "live combat test" for this batch of equipment.
Without a doubt, it would be Biotechnica's transport convoy.
The day after his call with Diana, Mercer used a drone to remotely retrieve the memory chip she had prepared, which contained recorded transport information for the convoy.
Biotechnica would be using transport planes to airlift some equipment from their European Economic Community headquarters to Southern California, where all equipment would be centrally packed.
Finally, heavy transport trucks would cross the border south of Night City to deliver the goods into the city.
Timing-wise, Biotechnica's transport plan was to depart from a border city in Southern California on the evening of January 30th, arriving successfully in Night City by the evening of the 31st.
They would stop only once en route for refueling.
The route was clearly and meticulously marked by Diana, with even the transport vehicle models and personnel configurations spelled out in detail.
The convoy consisted of six vehicles: four armored cars filled with Biotechnica soldiers, and two heavy transport trucks loaded with equipment.
Each armored car carried six personnel: one driver, one vehicle-mounted machine gunner, and four Biotechnica soldiers.
In addition, there were two senior Biotechnica agents whose vehicle assignments were uncertain.
One of these senior agents was equipped with a Sandevistan and a series of high-end cyberware, while the other had a Berserk OS and a full suite of cyberware; possibly even single-soldier exoskeleton armor.
Judging by the security intensity, not only would ordinary bandits be outmatched, even typical corporations would need to deploy highly specialized tactical squads to pose any threat to this transport team.
Twenty-four professional soldiers, plus two senior agents, backed by four armored vehicles likely modified from Chevillon Emperor 720; this level of security was practically off the charts.
Not to mention... Mercer was certain Diana had prepared some extra surprises for him. What exactly it is depends on whether she has been secretly collaborating with Militech behind the scenes.
To figure this out, Mercer had to go see someone.
Stout.
—--
Nightfall, Afterlife.
V and Mercer sat in a private booth at Afterlife, idly watching TV to pass the time.
Tucked away from the main hall, this was the innermost private room of the bar, so quiet that even the rock music playing in the club was barely audible.
"What time did you arrange to meet that woman?"
V lay lazily on the sofa, legs crossed, looking thoroughly uninterested.
Mercer glanced at the time displayed on his cybereye. "She should be here soon."
Just as Mercer finished speaking, footsteps echoed outside the door. V immediately sat up straight, her gaze sharp and expression serious, giving off the vibe of a professional bodyguard.
A middle-aged woman with slicked-back hair, radiating an air of cold sternness, or perhaps icy elegance, approached the booth. Behind her was a burly man wearing military-green tactical gear, a reinforced bulletproof vest, and sunglasses.
"So you're A?" Stout scrutinized the room with a displeased expression before striding confidently into the booth and taking a seat opposite Mercer, her tone cold.
Mercer didn't respond, merely nodding slightly as he studied her in return. After a moment, his cybereye glowed faintly, and he gave V a subtle nod.
V stood up and walked over to the large bodyguard by the door, tilting her head slightly.
Stout narrowed her eyes, then nodded at the bodyguard.
Only then did the bodyguard turn to glance at V, his expression equally cold, before walking away.
Once V and the bodyguard were out of earshot, Mercer finally spoke. "Militech recently struck a deal with Biotechnica's Diana Cuno; more precisely, an investment in an virus immunity agent. Am I right?"
Stout simply crossed her legs and stared at his face. "A, a netrunner who suddenly emerged in Night City. Right out of the gate, you led a team to hijack a Behemoth and crushed the Voodoo Boys in Pacifica's network."
"I'm curious what kind of face lies beneath that mask of yours."
She didn't seem in a hurry to get straight to the point, and her words made it clear: you've looked into me, and I've looked into you.
But what Stout didn't know was that, just from her demeanor, Mercer had already confirmed his suspicion.
Militech's collaboration with Diana had been officially finalized.
However, Mercer had no interest in engaging in a back-and-forth game of probing. He cut straight to the chase. "I assume you're not interested in building rapport with me, so why don't we skip the formalities?"
"Fine. You've got the time it takes to smoke one cigarette to convince me to stay." Stout pulled out a cigarette, lit it, exhaled a cloud of smoke, and gestured with one hand as if to say, Go ahead.
"First, the entire immunity agent project is a scam."
The moment Mercer finished speaking, Stout let out a dismissive scoff, unimpressed. Even if they knew the other party was lying, what could they do? The drug development collaboration had only just begun.
If they wanted to deal with those people, they'd have to wait until the investment showed no returns and turned into a complete bad debt.
"Second, even if you don't believe it's a scam, I can guarantee that Militech's investment will go entirely to waste."
Mercer's words piqued Stout's interest. She rested one hand on her knee, tapping it lightly. "Should I just eliminate you now to ensure the project proceeds smoothly?"
"Bravo. A loyal Militech hound. Hope your devotion gets you promoted to operations director before you turn into an old crone."
Mercer let out a derisive snort, then leaned forward slightly, placing both hands on his knees. His piercing blue eyes, visible through his mask, fixed aggressively on Stout.
"I need to know if the ops team is planning a special operation afterward. Just help me figure that out, and I'll handle the rest."
After Mercer finished, Stout stared back coldly. "You want me to be your corporate informant? Hah, you've got the wrong idea."
Even so, Mercer knew well that when dealing with women like her, aloof and superior, you don't listen to what they say, you watch what they do.
The fact that Stout was still sitting here, obedient and unmoving, was proof enough that she was already anticipating a plan she could "consider."
"I've got a heist in mind. Biotechnica is shipping a batch of production equipment to Night City at the end of January. Equipment I'm very interested in."
Mercer spoke calmly and deliberately.
Stout narrowed her eyes. "Aren't you afraid I'll sell you out to Biotechnica?"
"Oh? But this was arranged with one of Biotechnica's directors." Mercer let out a light chuckle. "Why do you think Biotechnica is shipping this particular batch of equipment?"
He pointed at himself. "Because I want it."
Then, Mercer settled back into the couch, his tone even. "I've already got the transport route and personnel details figured out. The only thing I'm not sure about is how Militech plans to meddle in this."
Stout probed further, "So what? You plan to hit a convoy jointly escorted by Biotechnica and Militech head-on? Just you? A bunch of green mercs?"
"How I pull it off is my business. I just need you to supply the deets."
Here, Mercer's tone turned meaningful. "Think about it; your superiors and colleagues have sealed a major deal, involving tens of millions of eurodollars. The contract's already signed. That means it's irreversible. If this investment succeeds, it has nothing to do with you. They get promotions and raises, while you remain just a deputy director. But if this investment goes horribly wrong... you could be the hero who salvages it."
"Sweet talk," Stout retorted, her eyes locked on his.
"The entire collaboration is built on developing an immunity agent. To develop the agent, two things are essential: the equipment, and the R&D personnel."
Mercer raised a finger, explaining unhurriedly, "This shipment is being sent under the guise of "immunity agent development." So, in Militech's eyes, this equipment is meant for that purpose. I'd bet the Biotechnica director who convinced Militech to provide transport security did so under that very pretext; to get free protection from Militech."
"The person from Biotechnica you struck a deal with... that's Diana Cuno, the one who secured the partnership with Militech?"
Stout said keenly, not even bothering to conceal Diana's name anymore.
Mercer nodded.
Stout then nodded in sudden understanding and let out a cold laugh. "Seems your "good friend" from Biotechnica is trying to get you zeroed in one fell swoop."
"I figured as much. Even if it fails and the equipment gets hijacked, she can smoothly pin the blame on Militech and her own security team. After all, she's gone to such lengths to protect this shipment; if it still gets snatched, she'll walk away completely clean."
After a pause, Mercer continued, "Then, she can demand that Militech provide even higher-level security for her. And because this incident has humiliated both Militech and Biotechnica and caused significant losses, I'll become a wanted man by both corporations. She won't have to lift a finger; agents and soldiers will keep coming after me endlessly."
Stout watched Mercer quietly.
Mercer simply chuckled and added, "Most importantly, if her research ultimately fails, she'll have an excuse; how can she develop new drugs without the equipment? And among this shipment are some rare, discontinued devices kept only as technical reserves. I doubt even someone of her caliber could secure a second set."
Stout pondered for a moment before saying, "What else? Even if the operation fails, someone will have to answer for the losses, but the investment project wouldn't necessarily have to be terminated."
"What if Diana Cuno is also zeroed?"
After Mercer said this, Stout raised an eyebrow. "You mean you plan to hit the joint Biotechnica-Militech transport convoy first, steal the equipment, and then go after Diana Cuno..."
"If she's dead and the equipment is gone, can Militech's investment really continue?" Mercer retorted.
Stout looked at him, then after a long moment, laughed softly. "Then the project would have to be urgently terminated, no question. But without a doubt, you'd bring serious trouble upon yourself. You don't actually think stealing all this and derailing Militech's investment plan is a good thing for you, do you?"
Mercer replied coldly, "But I suspect you'll smoothly get promoted to Operations Director afterward."
"So you're offering all this in exchange for my "leniency" when I come after you later?" Stout said.
"What I need is for you to turn a blind eye after becoming Operations Director and focus on your other duties. As for me; I don't think you'd want to become my enemy."
After a pause, Mercer added, "Militech was just being used by Diana Cuno in this whole affair. I'll keep evidence of everything she did. Perhaps..." He tilted his head slightly, proposing a more cost-effective solution: "You could use that evidence to seek compensation from Biotechnica?"
"At its core, this is about Diana Cuno exploiting Militech to try and eliminate me, her big problem. She was willing to betray corporate interests and deceive Militech into facing an unexpectedly powerful enemy, causing massive losses in the process."
"If we can prove this; prove that Diana Cuno used Militech, deceived Militech, then the so-called "investment" becomes "fraud." Given Militech's power and status, even if the evidence chain isn't complete, I believe Biotechnica would be willing to grit their teeth and offer compensation to cover Militech's losses, just to maintain their honeymoon phase."
"Oh?" Stout's eyes lit up. "To solidly prove that, we might need a living Diana Cuno."
"I can hand her over to you for interrogation. Follow your procedures to solidify the evidence, but I must personally witness her death."
Mercer's voice was icy. "Those who betray me must die."
As he spoke, he stared fixedly at Stout, who responded with an equally cold, hard smile. "Funny, I also despise being betrayed. Maybe we do have some common ground after all."
"An investment failure; hold the responsible party accountable. And you can become the "hero" who recouped Militech's losses, get a promotion and a raise. All you have to do is give me the deets."
After Mercer finished, Stout simply chuckled and said, "I'm interested in your proposal, but as a member of Militech, I would never betray the company's interests. I'll pretend I didn't hear any of this today. I hope the next time I see you, you're still alive. Trying to steal from a joint Militech-Biotechnica transport convoy? That's suicide. I won't get involved. And I suggest you don't contact anyone else. I hope I don't hear about your death tomorrow."
After saying this, she stood up and walked away without looking back. Mercer watched silently as she left, until V strolled into the room.
"Deal done? That was quick?"
She glanced around curiously.
"She verbally refused," Mercer said, stretching lazily as he leaned back on the sofa, clearly still deep in thought.
V was taken aback. "Verbally refused? So it didn't work out?"
"Well, take a look over there. Our high-level Militech agent was so "careless" as to drop a business card."
Mercer pointed to a small electronic card on the sofa.
V walked over, picked up the card, and opened it. "What does this mean? She wants to meet you here?"
"I suppose there might be a simpler way," Mercer said, his lip twitching slightly as he looked at the card displaying the name "No-Tell Motel."
He took the card, examining both sides, and finally noticed a scratched "307" on the inn's contact number.
"Go to Room 307 at the inn tomorrow night. I suspect there might be a conveniently "forgotten" storage chip or something inside."
After Mercer finished, V took the card back and turned it over a few times. "Damn, why did she pick such a shady place?"
"What's shady about it? An anonymous inn, no cameras around, even the front desk is an unmanned self-service counter. For people needing a secret rendezvous, it's practically holy ground."
As soon as he finished, Mercer noticed V eyeing him suspiciously.
"How do you know so much about this?" she asked, staring at him with a teasing tone. "Been there before?"
"Nah, never been to a place like that in my life. Let's go check it out together tomorrow," Mercer said with a grin.
"Get lost. Go ask your Rebecca to join you tomorrow; bet she wouldn't mind spending extra time inside with you."
V snorted, then stood up and headed out. "Come on, I've got something I need you for today."
"Oh?" Mercer looked surprised but followed her out. "What is it?"
"Jackie Welles; you know him, right? I remember him saying he met you once. You even tried to recruit him, but the guy didn't have the luck. Turned you down himself," V said.
"You meeting up with him?" Mercer asked.
"Yeah, he said he's got something he wants my help with. But since we're about to pull a big job, I didn't want to agree outright. With you there, if it seems right, I'll do it. If not, I'll turn him down."
After a pause, she looked at him seriously. "Our priority is the big score. Don't go getting soft or worrying about owing me favors."
"Sounds good. Meeting him could work out. The Valentinos and 6th Street are going at it hard right now; might be a chance to talk business, see if we can sell them some gear."
Mercer's mind was already racing. "Our storefront's basically just for show. The real money's in finding clients right here in Night City."
"You already have stuff to sell?" V eyed him skeptically. "It hasn't been that long."
"Yep. Pilar and I whipped up a design for a market-ready pistol; cheap, durable, and basic parts can be printed on a 3D printer. Costs under 200 eddies, barely more than those disposable printed pistols on the street, but reusable. Sure, it's not built to last, but we'll sell it for 500 eddies. Where else are you gonna get a full-auto pistol with a 17-round mag of 9mm for that price? Plus, you can add a drum mag; holds 40 rounds of 9mm. Yeah, the material limits it to 10 rounds per second, but still; can't beat that value."
Mercer added, "We're calling it the "Easy Kill." All our plastic-metal hybrid printed weapons will use the "Easy Kill" line. Later, we'll roll out upgraded versions: one with more metal parts for better durability and reliability; the "Overkill" series, and another with a smart weapon system, the "Slaughterhouse" series."
V listened with interest. "Get me a prototype to test. I'll know if it's any good once I get my hands on it."
"Pilar and I made a prototype, tested it, then left it lying around. You can grab it and try it out when you're back. Basically, it's a step up from "Budget Arms" printed guns."
After Mercer finished speaking, V eagerly insisted she must go back and try it out. But then, as if remembering something, she couldn't help but chuckle mischievously, looking at him with a slightly embarrassed expression.
"I get it. Hand over your pistol; I'll upgrade it for you over the next couple of days."
As soon as Mercer said this, V happily threw an arm around his neck. "I knew you wouldn't forget your choom! Go all out with the mods; I want it to pack a serious punch!"
"Alright, alright, I promise I'll get you that hand cannon." Mercer rolled his eyes, grabbing her hand to move her arm away; this girl really didn't know how to hold back when throwing her weight around.
V chuckled, eagerly sliding into the driver's seat of the Mizutani Shion that Mercer had brought out, ready to chauffeur him. Once Mercer settled in, she sped off toward the Heywood district.
When the sleek, modified Mizutani Shion pulled up outside El Coyote Cojo, it turned more than a few heads.
For most street kids, even a modified Shion, worth just 200,000 to 300,000 eddies, was already an unattainable "dream car."
V practically radiated smugness as she pushed the car door open, chin slightly raised, flaunting the gilded chain around her neck that she'd picked up who-knows-when. She swaggered toward the bar without a care.
Mercer, stepping out after her, finally caught on as he watched her show off; she'd insisted on driving just to make a flashy entrance here.
Damn, and he thought she was being nice because he'd modded her gun.
Guess even an Intelligence of 6 can grow a little.
Mercer mused to himself as he followed her into the bar.
Pushing open the door to El Coyote Cojo, they found the place about half full. V glanced around. "Not bad, huh?"
"Decent. Cozy little spot, feels comfortable," Mercer replied.
"Let me treat you to some fries; had 'em last time, salty, savory, with a bit of kick. Really good stuff." V pulled him toward the bar, declaring grandly that she'd cover everything today.
Mercer looked curious. "They serve food here? What's good?"
The bartender approached with a smile. "Mostly Mexican dishes; pretty spicy, small portions, mostly bar snacks."
"Gimme a beef taco; wait, scratch that, beef-flavored insect meat taco." Mercer recoiled slightly. "And a NiCola, please."
V snorted. "Why come to a bar just to drink NiCola? Man up, have a few drinks with me."
"Netrunners need clear, calm minds, got it?" Mercer wagged a finger. "Besides, too much booze messes with Intelligence."
"Ah, screw you! One of these days you're gonna really piss me off." V shook her fist, then tossed her white hair back. "One 400 Rabbits, on the rocks."
She turned to the bartender. "Where's Jackie? He asked me to meet him here, but I don't see him."
"Took two hits to the arm, didn't cover it well enough. Getting chewed out by his mom right now. That's her over there; the bar owner, Guadalupe Alejandra Welles. Just call her Mamá Welles; everyone here does."
As the bartender finished, Mercer and V both turned to see a silver-haired middle-aged woman emerging from the back, looking less than pleased.
Jackie trailed behind her, all apologetic smiles, occasionally gesturing toward them as he whispered to his mom.
Clearly, he was trying to save face with some version of "My friends are here, cut me some slack."
Mamá Welles shot a glance at V and Mercer, gave Jackie's back a firm smack, and stalked off, still simmering; but at least she'd let him off for now. Jackie finally relaxed as he watched her walk away, straightened his back, and ambled over with a swaying gait. "Yo! V, A, you're here?"
He greeted them warmly, walking over to the seat next to Mercer. As he sat down, he chuckled and said, "Your names put together are kinda funny. I almost don't wanna say A before V."
"Go to hell. Just call him Mercer then. I don't care what you call him anyway," V said with a laugh, turning to Mercer. "You never told me before; how exactly did you two meet?"
"At Vik's clinic. Ran into him bringing two of his young guys to get some gear installed. Gotta say, Jackie's a good guy, but the youngsters under him... not so much. By the way, where are those two lackeys of yours today?"
Mercer told it straight.
Jackie's expression suddenly turned heavy. After a long pause, he sighed. "Yeah, they really weren't much. Actually, not long after we met you, one of them bought it. The other's still lying in the hospital even now."
Mercer's mind quickly flashed back to the news from those days. "The 6th Street Gang did it? I remember hearing about it on Night City's Body Lotto; 6th Street raided your turf?"
"Yeah, I remember that night. A whole crew stormed right into our gang's warehouse, set a fire, killed a lot of our people. We got the message and rushed to back them up, but got ambushed halfway there. I reacted fast and ducked for cover, but those two gonks... One of 'em stuck his whole body out the window to spray bullets and got taken out by a single precise shot. The other took five rounds; his kidneys were completely shredded. By the time we got him to the hospital, it was almost too late."
Jackie sighed again. "Then just a few days ago, those assholes came back. We had a fierce shootout with 'em right on the street. Look at my arm; still got two holes that haven't closed up yet."
"Your Valentinos didn't retaliate?" Mercer shot back. "Don't gangs usually believe in blood for blood?"
"'Course we hit back. Yesterday morning, we organized a counterattack, but... it didn't go well."
Jackie spoke through gritted teeth. "The 6th Street bastards got their hands on some powerful weapons from somewhere. The moment we moved in, five or six heavy machine guns blew the lead car to bits in the blink of an eye. And there was this preem sniper, no idea which rooftop he was camped on, picking us off. Our boss charged out with his rifle, but he barely took down a few before getting domed. With him down, the rest of us couldn't mount a proper counterattack against their crossfire. In the end, we had to bail in our cars; and even then, we lost over twenty chooms on the way out."
"And guess what? Before we'd even driven one block, the NCPD showed up. Arrested half the guys we had left, using some bullshit excuse like "gang violence." They brought counterterrorism robots, heavy NCPD units, even an armored vehicle... This was a fucking planned ambush from the start!"
Jackie's voice was tight with anger. "In the end, it was Padre who worked his magic. Don't know how he did it, but he rooted out a mole. That's when we found out someone in our gang had been feeding intel to 6th Street."
"Joder (Damn)! That bastard got skinned alive by the chooms the same day, forcing his own mother to move out of the neighborhood; raising a son who sold out his own kind? The families of the dead brothers must've hated her and her son to the core. But it's too late now. So many died; we lost nearly half our core fighters, and the other half got hauled off by NCPD to holding. They won't be out for months, and some might even catch heavy charges."
Jackie heaved a heavy sigh, taking a beer from the bartender and downing a few gulps. "Those of us left have no choice but to lay low and hold our ground for now."
"Goddammit, who was that piece of shit?" V cursed, sharing the outrage. "What kind of Heywood native does something that fucking vile?"
"Let it go, chica. He's dead now. Leave the rest to God." Jackie's expression was grim.
After Mercer pieced things together, he asked, "So you reached out to V because..."
"Wasn't actually me. Padre wants to talk to her. You know him, right? Heywood's preem fixer; everyone from the neighborhood respects him."
As Jackie spoke, he glanced over. "Speak of the devil. This is Padre."
Mercer and V turned simultaneously.
A middle-aged man with a receding hairline, dressed in priestly robes, wearing a cross, slowly entered from outside.
Jeweled rings adorned his fingers, tattoos peeked out from his wrists, and even his cross necklace looked like solid gold. He gave off the vibe of both a church padre and a gang boss.
Padre studied the two for a moment, his gaze finally settling on Mercer with a smile. "You must be the renowned A, I presume?"
Hearing this, Mercer felt a sudden twinge of suspicion.
With a line like that... this gig is probably gonna be all hassle and low pay, isn't it?
Padre spoke slowly, unhurried. He nodded to both as a greeting before turning to Jackie. "Let's talk in the back."
"No problem. Got a table reserved upstairs." Jackie replied.
Padre nodded, then looked at V. "And this must be... Valerie, if I'm not mistaken?"
Uncharacteristically, V turned demure, nodding respectfully. "Just V is fine, Padre."
"A and... well, V. You two working together now?" Padre paused, as if unsure how to pair the two letters.
"Yeah, I'm with him." V nodded earnestly, then couldn't help adding, "We go by Kindling Squad now. Don't worry, whatever the job is, you can count on us! A might not be tall, but his skills are top-notch!"
V gave a thumbs-up. "Hands down the most nova netrunner I've ever seen."
"Jackie mentioned as much. Sounds impressive indeed." Padre smiled, gesturing for them to follow upstairs.
Once Mercer and V settled into the quiet booth on the second floor, Padre's expression turned serious, cutting straight to the point. "Since you've spoken with Jackie, you probably already have an idea why I asked for you today."
"Take on those 6th Street thugs? I'm definitely in!" V assured, then grinned sheepishly at A: "But he's the one who calls the shots."
"I need you to cause chaos in 6th Street territory; make them hurt, by any means necessary."
Padre spoke concisely: "I despise 6th Street collaborating with NCPD. Gang business should follow rules. If they won't play by them, neither will Heywood."
"Burn their strongholds, zero every last one of those ambitious scum trying to invade Heywood. Let God judge their sins afterward."
Mercer asked casually, "How far do we go? What's the pay?"
"Base pay is 100k eddies. For each of their bases you wreck, I'll add another 100k. I'll also give you a target list; three names. Zero one of them and you get 50k extra."
Padre stated calmly, "Theoretically, the max payout is 550k eddies."
He expected some shock at that number, but even V just nodded coolly.
That made Padre reassess the so-called "Kindling Squad's" capabilities on the spot.
Mercer turned to V: "This job's got a lot of moving parts. With our other commitments, we'll need to split up and wrap it up fast. You in?"
"Hell yeah. I'm Heywood born and bred. These 6th Street shitheads are knocking at my door; time to teach 'em a lesson," V said, cracking her knuckles.
Mercer nodded, then told Padre: "We'll take it. No need to hire others; 6th Street's perfect for my team to cut their teeth and test some gear."
"Send me the list. Mark threat levels if you can; helps with planning."
Padre gave Mercer a meaningful look: "Sounds like you're confident. But A, 6th Street isn't as simple as you think."
"How many are packing cyberware on par with a Sandevistan?" Mercer asked bluntly.
"Two of the three targets on your list are that caliber," Padre admitted.
Troublesome for the pay, Mercer thought.
Then it hit him; high-end cyberware stripped from corpses was still worth a fortune.
Get some containers from Vik, have Pilar do the harvesting. Those arms of his came off corpses; he won't mind similar work.
Refurbish and resell. Even second-hand Sandevistan pulled from a body could fetch over 100k eddies.
Mercer saw no issue with it; he hated Scavengers for kidnapping and tricking live victims to harvest their cyberware, treating people like walking credit chips.
But looting gear from enemies he'd zeroed? That felt fair.
He'd even confiscated cyberware from Scavengers; no idea where they dug it up, but that didn't stop him from having V zero them and taking the loot for research or resale.
Of course, digging up corpses isn't something you'd want to do all the time; it's a bit unethical. If you come across worthless ones, it's better to leave them intact unless absolutely necessary.
"Alright, got it." Mercer agreed. "I need very detailed information, including intel on the hideout, high-risk targets, and so on. The more detailed, the better."
"No problem. A, should I entrust this job to you? I was originally planning to hire several teams for it."
Padre probed cautiously.
But Mercer nodded decisively. "If you bring others in, I'm out. It's not worth risking trouble with 6th Street over a hundred thousand eurodollars."
"Alright." Seeing his confidence, Padre said no more. Whether he could deliver would become clear soon enough.
Mercer stood up and extended his hand. Padre was momentarily surprised but then rose and shook it.
"V is from Heywood, and Jackie is a friend of mine. I won't haggle over the price for this job. If you have similar work in the future, feel free to refer it to me. I might not bother with it myself, but my people might be interested."
"If there's any work requiring netrunning skills, you can also come to me. I have a few netrunners under me; they can handle minor issues, and I'll step in if it's something they can't manage."
After saying this, Mercer released Padre's hand and smiled. "So, whether it's simple or complex, our team can take on jobs at different price points. I look forward to working with you in the future."
"Alright, I understand."
Padre always judged people by their actions. Mercer spoke with confidence, but his skills would only be proven by the results.
The merc business was full of complexities; some talked a big game but performed as sloppily as any gang kid once they got to work.
At the same time, Mercer added with a smile, "Also, we take on jobs like equipment and weapon production, customization, and so on. Perhaps you have some channels to help us move our products?"
"Like kamikaze drones, cheap fully automatic pistols, or standard-issue rifles?"
Padre nodded gently. "You can prepare some samples and give them to Jackie. I'll put in a word with the Valentinos. If your gear is up to standard, I'm sure they'd be willing to spend some eurodollars to boost their firepower."
Hearing this, Mercer grinned widely beneath his mask. "Thank you, Padre."
"Don't mention it. Isn't this what fixers do? If you handle the job well, I might even try to help you distribute your products to other gangs."
After exchanging a few more pleasantries with Mercer and V, Padre hurried off.
V even personally walked him out the door alongside Jackie.
"First time I've seen you show someone so much respect," Mercer remarked, munching on the fries the bartender had brought over, as V returned.
V casually picked up a fry and took a bite. "For folks in Heywood, Padre isn't just any fixer."
"When I was a kid and had no money for food, I ate meals provided by the church; all because Padre kept donating and rallying people to do things like that. Though he'd started taking jobs from all over after becoming a fixer, no longer limiting himself to Heywood clients, truth be told, every kid who grew up in Heywood respected him. In Heywood, whether you're in a gang or running any kind of business, there's one thing you've gotta understand; you respect Padre and you listen to what he says."
Mercer summed it up: "Community leader, huh?"
"Pretty much," V shrugged.
But then, V suddenly grew serious. "You're tied up with that Biotechnica business right now. If you don't have the time or energy to handle this, just leave it to us. Or we could talk to Padre, see about pushing this job back a bit; wait till we've wrapped up the Biotechnica gig."
"No, it's not just because of Padre's job that I'm getting involved in this."
Mercer's cybereye glinted. Padre had already sent the files to his inbox. After reviewing the data Padre provided, he'd found exactly what he was looking for.
"You remember what happened to Rebecca's old man, right?" Mercer said.
V paused, then her expression turned grim.
----------
5800 words.
Bonus chapter @1800 power stones!