The banquet hall of The Black Sapphire still looked as magnificent as ever, its decor unchanged for today's special occasion.
Only the center of the stage had been slightly adorned with some religious elements, like crosses, and the lighting was adjusted to be a bit brighter.
Hansen's body lay quietly in a half-open casket, his well-preserved upper body exposed, looking as if he were merely asleep. The casket was placed in the center of the stage.
White flowers were arranged around the casket, and the Padre murmured prayers before it. The hall, usually filled with music, was now accompanied only by the mournful concerto of a violin and piano.
Men and women in black formal wear, regardless of their status or purpose, all wore pained expressions as they took turns approaching the stage to offer a small white flower in tribute.
Mercer stood beside the casket, accepting the guests' "condolences."
They were nothing more than empty words like, "Don't be too sad," and "I'm sure you can carry on Colonel Hansen's legacy."
With a face full of sorrow, Mercer repeated "Thank you" and "Thank you for coming" over and over until the procession was complete.
Many people had come to "mourn" him.
Night City's Mayor Lucius Rhyne, his deputy, Vice Mayor Weldon Holt, several City Hall council members including Jefferson, socialites, television hosts, some wealthy Europeans, and a few corporate executives.
Of course, reporters from the major television networks were also present.
Mercer didn't even need to send out invitations. After he released the news of Hansen's passing, reporters from nearly every TV and radio station proactively emailed his work account, hoping to record some content to air on the news.
Naturally, Mercer wasn't foolish enough to let a horde of reporters in. If he had, many of the socialites, like Mayor Lucius who was currently feigning grief over fate's cruelty, wouldn't have shown up.
Hansen was something of a figure in Night City, but everyone knew that some relationships couldn't be openly exposed.
Just like the NCPD Chief, who had also come to feign mourning; he had not one iota of goodwill for Hansen. Mourning? He wished Hansen had died sooner.
But he came anyway, under this pretext, for a very simple reason: the NCPD was not a civil service organization, but a publicly traded company.
That's right, the NCPD, the official organization responsible for Night City's public safety, was a security firm whose name could be found on the stock exchange.
Simply put, Night City hired the NCPD to do its job. While maintaining public order, the NCPD also had to be responsible for its own profits and losses.
Hansen's previous attitude toward the NCPD had been far from friendly. He had secretly supported and incited forces in Pacifica to expel the NCPD, driving them out of the district. He also openly harbored fugitives wanted by the NCPD and even explicitly forbade them from entering Dogtown.
All of this had a significant impact on the NCPD's business, or more accurately, on both its revenue and its stock price.
The new chief's purpose in coming was self-evident; he wanted to sound Mercer out. If possible, he certainly wanted the NCPD to return to Pacifica.
Mercer greeted guest after guest, each with their own thoughts and agendas. Only after the basic proceedings were over did he give a slight nod to the Padre he had hired.
The Padre stopped his prayers, closed his bible, and stepped aside.
The music in the banquet hall also came to a halt.
Mercer walked to the center of the stage, stood beside Hansen's coffin, and began to speak in a somber tone, "Under God's love and mercy, we gather here today to offer our final blessings to a warrior who never bowed to fate."
Everyone remained silent with solemn expressions as Mercer read a standard eulogy from a script prepared in advance by Morning Star.
Once the speech concluded, the Padre personally closed the lid of Hansen's coffin. Then, a group of Barghest soldiers in black suits carried the coffin out along a predetermined route.
Everyone remained quiet, clearing a path until Hansen's coffin disappeared through the doorway. Then, all eyes turned in unison to Mercer, who had returned to the stage.
"First, I want to thank all our guests for your support of Barghest and Dogtown."
Mercer's expression returned to a calm state. The stage lights reverted to clean, bright illumination. Dressed in a black suit, his somewhat youthful face now seemed to have gained a touch of maturity.
He no longer looked like a child at first glance, but more like a young man in his early twenties.
Looking at the people below the stage with their varied expressions, Mercer knew they weren't here to listen to polite nonsense.
So, after a few simple pleasantries, Mercer cut straight to the chase. "Before his passing, Colonel Hansen entrusted Dogtown to me. For me, this is both an opportunity and a challenge.
I am well aware that Dogtown's development to this day is not just due to the efforts of Barghest, but more so, thanks to the support from all of you.
First, I want to make a promise to everyone."
Mercer offered a gentle, confident smile. "Although Colonel Hansen has unfortunately passed away, Dogtown's development will not stop. And our friends who have always supported Barghest will remain our friends.
I know some of you may worry that a young upstart like me, with little experience, is not very trustworthy, but I will prove with facts that the Barghest of today is already more trustworthy than the Barghest of the past.
The Barghest of the future will be even better than the Barghest of today.
One day, I will make Dogtown the most prosperous core of Pacifica, and Pacifica will once again become the thriving new district that Night City envisioned."
Mercer's words were loaded with information. As soon as he said them, the expressions of many stakeholders changed slightly.
"Does Mr. Mercer mean to shift Dogtown's main business toward a more mainstream commercial direction?" one of the European tycoons asked discreetly.
Mercer immediately refuted it. "Of course not. Dogtown is what it is today thanks to our European friends and the global support from our Cuban friends.
What I mean to say is that the Dogtown of today is, in essence, just a transit hub for goods on the North American continent.
But my goal is to build Dogtown into the most important logistics hub in North America's future; I want to open more routes, build larger warehouses, handle more cargo, and deliver our goods across the globe with greater efficiency."
With these words, many faces finally relaxed, but some soured.
Among them were the NCPD Chief and several council members from Night City's City Hall.
Mercer, his face unreadable, continued, "But considering our future prospects, I believe that in addition to continuing and expanding our existing business, other commercial activities should also be given importance."
As he spoke, Mercer turned and pointed behind the stage; behind the banquet hall's stage was a massive open-air platform. Looking out, one could clearly see the somewhat dilapidated buildings of Dogtown, and beyond the high walls in the distance, the architecture of Pacifica.
"Pacifica was once a land of promising future. Countless corporations came here to develop tourism and resort projects, including The Black Sapphire hotel we are in right now.
But due to the war, the Haitians, and gang problems, this land ultimately lost its hope.
In my opinion, the root cause of all this is that everyone believes this land is no longer safe and could be destroyed by war again at any moment.
But in my view, there is still great potential here."
Mercer looked at the investors and said with a smile, "I believe you have all seen the changes in Dogtown; we have better, more comprehensive security, and the public safety environment has improved dramatically thanks to Barghest's efforts.
In the future, what I intend to do is to further optimize Dogtown's business environment, and ultimately, make Dogtown the first commercial center to be revitalized in Pacifica."
Mercer only touched upon the subject, not delving deeper. He was just planting a seed. Afterward, both opponents and supporters would come to him on their own.
But his goal was clear.
Mercer had no plans to change locations; right here, in Dogtown, he would make this place the new core business district of Night City, surpassing even Corpo Plaza.
It might sound like a pipe dream right now, but in Mercer's eyes, it was all very achievable.
Becoming completely independent of Night City might be difficult, but operating Dogtown, or even all of Pacifica, as a special economic zone of Night City was not out of the question.
Pacifica currently had a large number of unfinished buildings. The original owners of some had already gone bankrupt due to development failures, but a large portion of them were still owned by wealthy individuals and corporations.
They just couldn't see the possibility or profit in continuing development for now, believing the risk of building in Pacifica was too great. So they chose to let these buildings and business plans rot, intending to rebuild and resume commercial activities once the situation stabilized.
The original Pacifica was envisioned by many investors as a "Crystal Palace on Earth."
According to the original plans, Pacifica would have a plethora of resort facilities, amusement parks, luxury hotels, lavish casinos, high-end nightclubs, spas, resorts, and stadiums.
If everything had been built as planned, it would undoubtedly have become the best resort destination in North America and Night City's most prosperous new commercial center!
Unfortunately, all of this had to be halted due to the NUSA's Unification War. Furthermore, because everyone generally believed that the NUSA would sooner or later reignite the flames of war, with Pacifica and Dogtown on the front lines.
So, no one was willing to spend money to be a sucker right now; if another war broke out, wouldn't everything they built be for nothing? Even if it wasn't destroyed, if the NUSA occupied the area, it would be another mess.
Everyone knew that the NUSA had always been rather domineering in its conduct. In business, they were shameless scoundrels, acting like complete thugs.
And once Night City lost its independence, its current, uniquely favorable business environment would naturally cease to exist.
But Mercer had a different idea.
What merchant would stop doing business just because they were afraid of war?
It was simply that they felt the development costs were too high, the return on investment too slow, and the risk of being destroyed by war at any moment made it not worthwhile.
So, wasn't the problem Mercer needed to solve obvious?
He didn't have the power to guarantee that war wouldn't come, but for the former issue, he already had some ideas.
"Therefore, I plan to launch a long-term project called the 'Dogtown Three-Year Plan' within the next three years."
As Mercer spoke, the AR device behind him projected a 3D holographic image.
Everyone in the audience looked on with interest; the 3D projection was clearly a model based on Dogtown.
"The Black Sapphire will remain as it is, but beyond that, we will further repair the nuclear-powered engine of the cargo airship at the EBM Petrochem Stadium, optimize the energy supply, and use the nuclear engine to build a true nuclear power plant.
This will not only guarantee the entire power supply for Dogtown but even allow us to export electricity to Pacifica.
Secondly, we will further optimize our existing services. I plan to use Dogtown's servers to build a professional online sales platform that will help buyers from all over the world conduct freer and more convenient transactions on a secure network."
Mercer gestured at the projected map, speaking eloquently about his ideas. Some people dismissed him as a naive youth spouting unrealistic dreams, but others smelled a business opportunity.
But at this moment, no one was foolish enough to voice their thoughts publicly. They simply applauded and praised him after his speech ended; who said there was no social etiquette in Night City?
Standing on the stage, Mercer's eyes swept across the crowd, accurately making a rough categorization of the people there.
Those who heard his vision and development plan for Dogtown could be roughly divided into four types.
The first type represented Night City's interest groups, like the mayor. For them, whether Dogtown developed well or not was unimportant, but it was very important to them that Dogtown return to Night City's system.
The second type was a group of thrill-seekers, represented by wealthy Europeans and some of Night City's socialites.
The reason they loved to party at The Black Sapphire and in Dogtown was that they didn't have to worry about Night City's laws and regulations and could have fun without restraint. They just wanted to know if Dogtown would continue to be fun and safe in the future.
And from the looks of it, not only did Mercer plan to maintain Dogtown's independence, but he also intended to significantly enhance security, and even provide them with a more secure, dedicated network and continue repairing the supporting entertainment facilities.
What more was there to say? Applaud!
The third type consisted of people from various corporations, including the invited Militech executive, now a full-fledged Director of Operations, Ms. Stout, whom Mercer hadn't seen in a long time.
Militech was very interested in getting involved in Dogtown's reconstruction. After all, in the original Pacifica construction plan, Militech had intended to build a corporate headquarters there!
This headquarters was meant to rival Arasaka Tower.
If Mercer were to relax commercial regulations and allow corporations to enter, other companies might be hesitant, but Militech would definitely jump at the chance, even if it meant losing money.
Then, by leveraging Dogtown's unique environment, they would have more confidence in competing with Arasaka.
The fourth type of person was the stakeholders in the smuggling trade routes, represented by the Cubans.
Mercer could see the dark-skinned Cuban fixer, Aguilar, standing expressionlessly behind a booth. In front of him, a middle-aged Cuban man in a suit and fedora sat in the center of the booth.
At that moment, the middle-aged man was scrutinizing Mercer. When he saw Mercer's gaze meet his, he stared back without flinching, a playful look in his eyes.
This middle-aged Cuban man was a high-ranking figure sent by the Cubans. He was quite famous in NUSA territory, the second-in-command of the Cuban crime syndicate's gangs in the NUSA, a true figure of power.
Besides Aguilar behind him, a group of Cubans in black suits, with cold faces and clearly formidable combat skills, were scattered around his seat.
Their formation seemed random, but it was actually a star-like pattern that sealed off all potential assassination routes; a very professional security detail.
Mr. Hands was also at the banquet, seated right next to this Cuban gentleman. He was currently smiling at Mercer; for him, Mercer taking the stage was a great thing.
This fourth group was the one Mercer was most focused on and valued most at this banquet.
It was this group, led by the Cubans, that supported all of Barghest's and Dogtown's current commercial activities. It could be said that without them, Dogtown would not exist.
When his speech ended, Mercer smiled and walked off the stage. He first had a brief chat with some acquaintances, explaining that he had an important guest waiting and would talk to them in detail later, then headed straight for the booth where the Cubans were.
V, geared up and standing at the edge of the stage the whole time, followed him closely, displaying her might while also protecting his safety.
As they approached, Aguilar, who had fought V before, couldn't help but fix his gaze on her. He narrowed his eyes, his hand unconsciously moving toward the revolver at his waist.
V, in turn, flashed the red light on her helmet's visor without hesitation, giving him a provocative lift of her chin.
But then, she stood properly behind Mercer, maintaining a certain distance from Aguilar. She stood ramrod straight, scanning the surroundings, looking very much like a heavy providing backup during a gang negotiation; which, in fact, was pretty much the situation.
Mr. Hands smiled and spoke first. "Long time no see, Mercer. Oh, I suppose I should call you Mr. Mercer now."
"Given our relationship, Mr. Hands, you can still call me A. Mr. El Fantasma, it's a great honor to meet you in person. I'm Mercer. Alex Mercer. You can call me by my name, or by my codename, A."
Mercer first responded to Mr. Hands' greeting, then respectfully addressed the Cuban man sitting on the sofa, whose name was Diego "El Fantasma" Mendoza.
This Cuban with the incredibly long name actually only had his first and last names as his formal name. The middle part was a gang-specific "nickname."
El Fantasma meant "The Ghost" in Spanish. People on the street usually called him Mr. Ghost to show their respect.
It was just like Aguilar behind him; the name Aguilar didn't actually refer to a single person.
According to street legend, there were two Aguilars, a man and a woman. They both dressed the same, had the same cold personality, were ruthless in their work, and used the same custom-made pistol. The name Aguilar represented their status as legendary Cuban fixers.
Some also said that Aguilar was a clone, which would explain why Aguilar, as a fixer, had dominated the underworld for decades and was still alive to this day, a terror across the North American continent.
But even a legendary fixer like Aguilar was nothing before this Mr. Ghost.
Because El Fantasma's fame was simply too great. In the NUSA, many people didn't even know the Vice President's name, but they all knew that the Cubans had an all-powerful "Mr. Ghost."
Currently, nearly sixty percent of Dogtown's smuggling business was provided by this Mr. Ghost.
Within the Cuban crime syndicate, almost all smuggling and arms dealing operations were handled by him. It could be said that before Dogtown was founded, he monopolized more than half of the smuggling routes from the entire North American continent to Cuba.
The founding of Dogtown and the prosperity of its smuggling business were absolutely inseparable from this Mr. Ghost's support.
At this moment, El Fantasma simply sized Mercer up and down with a deadpan expression, then said bluntly, "Sit. My time is precious. I have one hour left."
Mercer smiled and sat down on one side of the booth.
Then, Mr. Ghost looked at Mercer and asked directly in a calm tone, "In your three-year plan, how will you achieve rapid growth in Dogtown's trade volume?"
The question was a bit unexpected for Mercer, but he answered fluently, "Dogtown's business has been too crude before. It was either we pay first, someone drops the goods in, we pay the balance, and then sell the stuff.
Or, we take a deposit, receive the goods for transit, and only when the recipient shows up can we send the goods out and collect the final payment.
If the goods get stuck in our hands and don't move, it lowers the efficiency of our capital turnover. Even if we find a buyer, we still have to ship the goods over or wait for them to pick them up. It's too inefficient.
But going forward, I will renovate the EBM Petrochem Stadium and our trading methods. Sellers and buyers will be able to negotiate deals through an online program, using a European bank's online banking service as an intermediary. We'll sign a third-party commission agreement directly with the bank.
This will save us a lot of trouble with bookkeeping and reconciling accounts.
At the same time, we will standardize the entire smuggling market in Dogtown, using our own software to list and sell goods, and our own people to handle express delivery within Night City."
Mercer briefly explained the business process he planned to implement. "Simultaneously, we will also regularly host high-end auctions, sending some rare items to the Black Sapphire to be auctioned off.
This will allow us to sell good items for higher prices and also attract more high-end smuggled goods to flow through Dogtown.
Also, in the past, it was often the sellers looking for buyers, while the buyers didn't know where to find sellers. But I believe Dogtown can solve this problem.
Again, using software, buyers can select and purchase goods through online orders. Once an order is placed, we handle the entire process; door-to-door delivery, cash on delivery. I bet those rich folks would absolutely love that feeling.
You know, many wealthy people buy smuggled or contraband items purely on a whim, and online shopping is the easiest way to make people act on impulse.
It's very possible that while browsing a website, they might suddenly see some valuable, rare item and decide to buy it for fun.
Of course, we also need to open up more trade routes. Relying solely on airdrops for imports and exports is still too slow. We need a dedicated port for shipping goods in and out, and Pacifica happens to have the right conditions for developing one."
"Your pitch is tempting, but Dogtown is your limit. The cake is too big for you to handle."
Mr. Ghost was not optimistic about this, but he did agree with some of Mercer's ideas. "But it seems you're not some gonk.
Let's talk about what's important; our demand is that the previous partnership and profit-sharing arrangement remain unchanged, but you must guarantee that you will prioritize our needs when we have them."
Mercer nodded readily. "Of course, no problem."
"Furthermore," Mr. Ghost narrowed his eyes, "we want your armor."
Before Mercer could reply, Mr. Ghost added with a heavier tone, "What we want is the kind of armor your ordinary soldiers can use for extended periods without going insane. Understand?"
Oh... Mercer understood.
So, this was the main reason for Mr. Ghost's gracious visit.
Mercer fell silent for a moment, then suddenly made a bold proposal.
"Are the Cubans interested in making an investment?"
"An investment? We've already invested more than enough in Dogtown."
"Not in Dogtown."
"Hm?"
"The investment I'm talking about is... me."