Chapter 38: The Legend of Night City’s Fastest Rookie

Misty flipped over the first card with a sense of eager anticipation.

"The first card... Judgment."

"Hmm, this signifies that your old perceptions of life are fading away. You are pursuing an inner calling, searching for a brand-new, more meaningful existence. At the same time... well, it also signifies resurrection and rebirth. You have endured the trials of life and are now on a path of chasing success and learning to improve."

"The second card... The World."

Misty’s eyes lit up. "Looking at them together, your positive changes will also influence many people. Your efforts to pursue success are already bringing you good results. The third one... ah, The Emperor... a truly rare combination."

Misty flipped over the final card and fell into deep thought.

"If interpreted simply, it might mean that your power will rise alongside your career, but... combined, it implies much more. You may be bearing the responsibilities of many people, or perhaps you are attempting to shoulder the fates of many. You want to change all of this, and the process will be arduous for you... Mercer, you might encounter many heavy emotional burdens, and... the appearance of this card at the end also signifies that you will frequently deal with certain 'big players.' These big players don't just refer to political power, but also strength, and well... you might cooperate with them, or you might clash. Either way, it signifies a transformation of the existing order."

Misty set the cards down and looked at Mercer with a sigh. "You truly are a person of natural, immense luck. Generally speaking, these three cards rarely appear together. When they do, it means your destiny is far broader than that of an average person, and your influence will be even greater. As the books say, readings for those with immense luck often allow the fortune-teller to glimpse a corner of the world's future. I suppose that wasn't wrong. Perhaps all of Night City will change because of you."

"For real?" Panam was still skeptical, but Mercer already believed it. He laughed heartily, satisfied, and said, "Everything going smoothly? That’s me for you!"

"Well, from what I can see, although you will face many challenges, as long as you persist in being yourself and keep working hard, you will be able to overcome them. Overall, it is an excellent reading." Misty smiled. "Perhaps even I am moving toward a better future because of you. By the way, Miss Panam, my advice is that if you are ever unsure about something, you might want to refer to Mercer’s opinion. His intuition and advice will surely be very sharp, and the direction he points out will certainly cause the Wheel of Fortune to turn in your favor."

"Hmm..." Panam nodded and glanced at Mercer.

Mercer simply smiled, added Misty as a contact, and transferred 100 Eurodollars to her.

"Well, there’s a custom back home: when someone reads your fortune or makes a prophecy, you must pay them. The amount doesn't matter, but you have to give something, otherwise, it might bring bad luck to the fortune-teller."

Misty thought for a moment, then exclaimed happily, "Ah, Eastern divination? I’m quite interested in that too! It’s just much harder to learn than Tarot, and I can't find anyone to teach me."

"Uh-huh." Mercer smiled, drank his coffee, finished it in one gulp, and stood up. "Thanks for the reading. Now I need to go buy some things."

"Alright, I won’t keep you two any longer. Be careful on the road. The Valentinos and the 6th Street gang have been clashing frequently lately; a shootout could break out at any moment." Misty cautioned him gently.

"Thanks, I will." Mercer waved his hand and led Panam away.

Once in the car, he said, "Let's go buy some clothes. Go to Corporate Plaza... actually, forget that place, but I need new clothes. Not second-hand, you understand?"

In this world, the trendy clothes... were mostly a bit garish and neon-colored; Mercer couldn't quite bring himself to accept them. He still preferred a more "old-school" aesthetic.

"Yeah, I get it." Panam was still thinking about the fortune-telling. She started the car and struggled to squeeze out of the narrow alley, with homeless people occasionally muttering in disgust on both sides.

They didn't drive far before they found a "Street Kid" specialty store in Little China. Inside, they sold all sorts of hoodies, loud shirts, and jackets with trendy yet inexplicable decorations...

Mercer browsed for a while and bought three sets of basic, simple clothes: three pairs of black sweatpants, three solid black hoodies, and three black jackets.

Panam rolled her eyes. "You might as well have bought black socks too. Can't you at least have a pattern on them?"

Hearing this, Mercer pondered for a moment and swapped the jackets for ones with a red Chinese dragon printed on the back. That large logo and the red accents on the sleeves added a bit of color. After all, didn't Alex Mercer's jacket in the game have some patterns on it? He decided that since he was cosplaying, he might as well go all the way.

The price was quite cheap, costing him only 1,000 Eurodollars in total, including a pair of black-and-red sneakers and some socks and underwear. Before leaving, Mercer thought about it and bought sets for Daichi and Leon as well. Afterward, he dragged Panam to buy two sets of clothes for Lucy and the others. He wasn't comfortable picking out women's undergarments, so he had Panam help check sizes and pick some up.

After the shopping, Mercer bought plenty of braindances, snacks, and miscellaneous items before heading straight to Corporate Plaza. Beyond the skyscrapers, Corporate Plaza housed offline flagship stores for major corporations: Arasaka, Militech, Biotechnica, and others.

Mercer visited the Kang Tao store first, drooling over their various smart weapons, but ultimately avoided impulse buying. He hadn't even installed a smart-link cyberware in his hand, so getting smart weapons would be pointless as he’d only be able to use the iron sights.

He dragged a weary-looking Panam through the stores of Militech, Biotechnica, and Zetatech. He looked at all sorts of bizarre cyberware, but in the end, aside from minor accessories like a braindance wreath, he didn't dare buy any major components.

After comparing prices, he ultimately chose to buy the hacking equipment he desperately needed from Zetatech. As a large enterprise that built its fortune on computer technology at the turn of the century, Zetatech’s computer-related hardware and software were top-tier. Today, Zetatech was a giant in the transportation industry, with significant stakes in aerospace electronics and manufacturing.

Mercer ordered a Zetatech hacking chair, the latest model known as the "Zeta Speed-Killer 2071." This chair didn't just connect directly to a hacker's cyberdeck; its built-in advanced network receiver, massive memory, and Zeta’s latest processor chip essentially turned a hacker into a portable, small-scale server.

He also bought the accompanying hacking laptop, the "Zeta Hacker Pro MAX." When used alone, this laptop featured massive memory, a top-tier CPU, and excellent cooling. It was touted as blast-proof; when closed, the sturdy casing could supposedly withstand a rocket hit... a rather abstract claim. Its most important function, however, was its ability to connect to the hacking chair via data cable, importing and syncing data while enhancing computing power. When connected, the two built-in CPUs could be treated as dual-core processing, further strengthening the system. Both devices also featured large ports for direct server connection.

Then came the essential cooling system. Mercer chose the professional "The Zone" hacking cooling kit, which included a hacking suit and professional coolers compatible with both the chair and the suit. The hacking suit featured advanced thermal management, drawing heat away through the skin, and included professional cooling line slots to interface with certain cyberware for internal circulation—like plugging a water-cooling line into your own body or head.

What drew Mercer to this suit was its modularity. It was a rare modular structure rather than a single integrated piece, meaning the parameters for heat dissipation in every section could be set independently. This allowed professional hackers to overclock specific components for maximum cooling efficiency. If a part broke, you could just replace that specific section instead of the whole suit. It was also highly adaptable to various cyberware, leaving plenty of room for DIY at both the software and hardware levels.

The suit also came with a brain-cooling component—a helmet-like piece used while lying in the chair to provide ice-pack-like relief to the head. Mercer touched the demo suit; aside from the joints, it felt soft both inside and out. It was hard to imagine it was packed with circuits and countless tiny electronic components. The whole suit looked a bit like the gear from *Gantz*, which was quite stylish. No wonder the hackers in anime and games ran around in these suits, usually just throwing a jacket over them. A hacking suit was essentially an exquisite mobile cooler—what hacker wouldn't want to carry a giant radiator around?

The purchase included spare electronic components and specialized maintenance/DIY tools, proving this was a truly professional-grade product. The price, however... Mercer sighed. The laptop was 40,000 Eurodollars, the chair 120,000, and the cooling kit 70,000. Damn, his money hadn't even warmed up in his pocket before 230,000 Eurodollars were gone!

Panam watched in amazement—the most expensive thing she had ever owned was her beloved car, bought for 3,000 Eurodollars as a wreck from a junkyard, with the rest built from scrap. What Mercer bought was basically the top-tier setup for a solo hacker. Anything better would be custom-grade, costing hundreds of thousands of Eurodollars, meant for corporate-level ops that average hackers never touched.

The Zetatech employee smiled, trying to get Mercer’s information, but Mercer used Panam’s details, leaving nothing for them but a contact number. The employee guaranteed delivery within eight hours, even to a nomad camp in the Badlands—a claim that made the employee look a bit strained, though they eventually agreed.

Afterward, Mercer visited other shops, his mouth watering at the sight of all the good equipment, but one look at his wallet made him sigh and restrain himself.

Mercer and Panam got their hair cut, mostly to dye his hair back to black. His previous red buzz cut had grown out quite a bit; after dyeing it black, he didn't cut it short, just trimmed it into a small side-part, making him look much more "gentle."

"What next? It's almost dark." Panam was losing patience—people in Corporate Plaza, mostly middle-class or management, kept looking at her like she was a nomad who had taken a wrong turn, which really annoyed her.

"Hmm, next is a proper meal... I haven't had real meat in ages. You?" Mercer asked.

"Huh? I'm not interested. That stuff is insanely expensive... let's just grab something cheap later." Panam said dismissively.

Mercer looked at her firmly. "I want beef!"

"...Fine, young master." Panam sighed and took him to a Western restaurant in Corporate Plaza that supposedly served real beef from Texas, owned by a local enterprise called "Texas Star." It was rumored that when Biotechnica originally planned to enter Texas, they intended to follow their "usual path"—poisoning the local agriculture and flora first to destroy local food industries before forcing their own "Whole Foods" and "Chroma-2 Wheat" into the market. But the plot was exposed, and the Texans nearly burned down the Biotechnica office, forcing them to preserve some local agricultural and livestock production. "Texas Star" was the most famous, supplying real beef to several neighboring states. However, it was also rumored that they had accepted massive investment from Biotechnica and were effectively a subsidiary, just like Whole Foods.

And the so-called "real beef"... the cows were real, but they were clones. They selected the best-quality meat, cloned it, and used genetic modification so the cows were ready for slaughter in a month, packed with perfect marbling. It just showed what kind of company Biotechnica—which claimed to be "neutral" and "fighting for nature"—truly was. They had the technology to feed the world, yet they hungered to destroy all agriculture and livestock to control every market. The Mexican-based "Whole Foods" company they acquired only produced synthetic protein food made from bugs... wasn't that just because bugs were high-profit, short-cycle, and easy to monetize?

The result was that Biotechnica, through monopoly, made sure no one had proper food, forcing everyone to eat garbage synthetic rations. Meanwhile, the rich kept singing and dancing, with marbled beef to go around... Damn this stupid world.

While waiting for his steak, Mercer cursed Biotechnica's management in his heart several times. But cursing aside, he ate with gusto. He devoured a filet mignon and a sirloin, and shared a full platter of smoked beef brisket with Panam, finally paying the bill with satisfaction.

Well, 5,000 Eurodollars gone just like that. But... damn... it was truly delicious. From this moment on, a new goal in Mercer's life became concrete—he was going to start his own farm in Night City. If he wanted chicken, he’d have chicken; if he wanted pork, he’d have pork! Biotechnica, you really deserve to die!!

Panam had enjoyed the meal, and the frustration she’d built up in Corporate Plaza vanished. She asked, "Heading back now?"

"To the Afterlife bar." Mercer let out a long breath, then thought for a moment and said, "Stop by Kabuki district on the way; I need to buy a mask. I’ll wear one for a while."

"Scared of being identified? Hackers really are fragile..." she teased. "Why not learn to shoot from a pro like me?"

Mercer snorted. "You aren't necessarily a better shot than me... It's just to avoid idiots who judge a book by its cover. If I wear a mask, people will think I'm just some short kid with a soft voice. If I take it off, what idiot wants to deal with a child?"

"Makes sense." Panam paused, then glared at him, looking annoyed. "Ha, so I'm an idiot, is that it?"

"Hey! Watch your mouth! Don't get physical! I'll call the NCPD on you, you know! Molesting a young boy, are we?" Mercer defended himself urgently.

Panam rolled her eyes. "I'd have to be hallucinating to see you as a kid now..."

She drove Mercer to the Kabuki district to buy a mask. Mercer searched for a long time, mostly finding Japanese-style demon masks favored by the Tyger Claws. Finally, he managed to pick out a plain, pure black hockey mask. From Mercer’s perspective, it looked a bit like the serial killer Jason from the movies he’d watched in his past life.

"You might as well just wear a helmet," Panam commented honestly.

But Mercer was very satisfied. He even found some dye and wrote a large letter "A" on the forehead of his mask. "You just don't understand the fun, kid."

Copying the title and look of Alex Mercer from *Prototype* and pairing it with the Jason Voorhees mask from *Friday the 13th*, Mercer felt he looked incredibly cool. Some people wore masks to hide their true selves, but he felt that with the mask on, he was more eager to let loose.

The car sped toward the Afterlife. It wasn't even eight o'clock yet. Mercer walked in with his hands in his pockets. The Afterlife was located underground, supposedly converted from a funeral home or crematorium. Looking at the graffiti-covered walls, he descended the stairs, passed through an automatically opening door, and walked a few steps before a burly guard blocked the entrance with a cold face.

Behind the guard was the neon-lit Afterlife, with rock music playing at a restless but not deafening volume.

"Sorry, the Afterlife doesn't serve nobodies. You have an appointment?"

"This guard is quite arrogant," Panam remarked, her temper flaring—her temper seemed even more volatile than in the game, probably because she was only eighteen and hadn't been beaten down by society yet.

"I have an appointment with Rogue at eight. Just tell her 'A' is here."

After Mercer spoke, the guard nodded, his cybernetic eye glowing as he clearly communicated with Rogue. After a moment, the guard said, "You can go in. Wait at the bar for a while; Ms. Rogue is in the middle of a business deal. She'll have someone call you when she's done."

"A woman named V will be here at eight-thirty. She's here to see me. Let her in."

"Understood." The guard studied Mercer, memorizing the features of this short man.

Seeing the guard’s tone become much more polite, Panam just glared at him and followed Mercer inside. The guard didn't look for trouble. Not many people could meet with Rogue, and those who could were definitely qualified to enter the Afterlife, because Rogue was the boss—it was that simple.

Inside, the colorful neon lights, the underground-style decor, and the rough-looking mercenaries scattered about were striking. The bar was shaped like a square, with a large bar in the center and booths and pool tables on the perimeter. All of it made Panam, a genuine "country bumpkin," click her tongue in awe. "It's huge."

Mercer just looked around and took a deep breath.

The Afterlife...

Ha, on his first day in Night City, he was already qualified to enter this place... did that make him the fastest-rising newcomer legend in Night City?