Chapter 313
2-IN-1 chapter
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The call connected quickly.
"Leo?" she answered.
T-Bug wasn't one for small talk, and Leo didn't waste time either.
"Remember that VR training setup you once told me about? I need one now. Can you get me the best?"
"The best? You mean…"
"Yeah. The kind the megacorps use for training their private security forces."
T-Bug drew a sharp breath. Her eyes went wide on screen.
"You're serious? Leo, that kind of VR rig isn't something you find on a street market."
"So, you can't get it?"
T-Bug had a contact who ran a shop in Kabuki selling gear for netrunners. Leo wasn't expecting much—but asking didn't hurt.
"If you just want the most basic VR training chips, I might be able to scrounge up a few. But the corp-level stuff?"
"Sorry. Out of my league. Why don't you try a fixer? If anyone in Night City can help, it's them."
"Alright, then I won't keep you."
Just as Leo was about to end the call, T-Bug suddenly called out.
"Wait a second, Leo."
"Hm? You need something?"
"Kinda…" For someone like T-Bug—usually cold and sharp-tongued—to speak so hesitantly, it must have been serious.
"I heard… you're the head of a company now?"
Leo raised an eyebrow. "Who told you that?"
T-Bug hesitated. "…Jackie told me."
Leo nodded.
"I didn't mean anything by it. Just wondering if you're hiring. I figure you wouldn't turn down a hacker with experience, would you?"
Leo didn't respond immediately. He began thinking.
Currently, his team already had one netrunner—Lucy. V's hacking skills, were not as advanced as Lucy's, so she could only serve in a secondary role when needed. Don't get it twisted, that was still impressive from someone who had no formal education as a netrunner.
In Night City, it was easy to find someone who could shoot. But someone who could defend their systems while frying an attacker's neuralware—that was rare.
A good hacker was worth a dozen amateurs.
In terms of skill, T-Bug had no issue. Back when they'd infiltrated Konpeki Plaza together, her abilities were already well proven.
As for her character, Leo could trust her. They'd been through life-and-death situations together.
More importantly, even though Rocky Ridge Mountain hadn't yet attracted any unwanted attention, that didn't mean it never would.
If Leo took Lucy on a mission in the future, having a hacker stay behind to secure the network could be critical.
"You want to work for me? Sure. When do you have time? Let's meet in person to discuss salary and terms—sound good?"
"Alright. I'll head over in a couple of days."
After locking down the meeting with T-Bug, Leo called over V and Lucy and transferred €$20,000 to them.
He told them to take Panam and the others into the city and enjoy themselves—really unwind.
Leo himself got into the Delamain cab that had brought them here and headed to Afterlife to find Rogue.
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*Afterlife. Still the same as ever.*
Cyberpunk décor, pounding electronic music, and mercs in every style and make—some raising glasses after a successful job, others drowning their losses in silence.
Leo found Rogue in her private booth. After a bit of small talk, he got straight to the point.
"I need a VR training system. Can you get me one?"
"I can."
Leo had expected nothing less.
He didn't bother contacting other fixers in the city—none of them had Rogue's reach. And he was closer to her than to anyone else, aside from Padre.
"You looking for entry-level? Basic? Or both?"
"Entry-level? Basic? How many levels of VR training equipment are there?"
Rogue raised four fingers. "Four."
"The lowest is entry-level—just a training chip. Doesn't even need a braindance wreath. You just slot it into your neural port. The principle is similar to braindance, and it's mostly used for the most basic instruction."
"Of course, in places like Latin America or the Middle East, entry-level training chips are already enough to train up warlords' militias."
"A bit better is basic-level. Strictly speaking, basic-level is the real deal when it comes to VR training—not some toy like the entry-level junk pros laugh at."
"But basic-grade equipment needs at least 200 square meters of open, unobstructed indoor space. Without it, you risk injury or even damaging the gear."
"Some of the more forward-thinking African warlords install basic-level gear for their personal guards. Their legitimacy depends entirely on firepower—without loyal enforcers, they'd be torn apart."
"If even basic gear isn't enough for you, and your standards are up there with elite spec ops teams, you're looking at advanced-level VR training."
"Advanced-grade systems require no less than 400 square meters, but ideally 2,000 square meters, to unlock their full capability."
"I've never personally used one of those, but word is advanced setups simulate real environments with uncanny immersion."
Up until now, Rogue hadn't given Leo a chance to cut in. When he finally could, he asked:
"Immersion? Isn't that just braindance?"
Rogue chuckled.
She didn't usually waste words—but for Leo, she made an exception.
"My little one, when I say immersive, I'm not talking about braindance levels of immersive."
"Let me break it down. Say you're in a desert scene. In a BD, sure, you'll see the sun, feel the heat, sense the sand's texture—but your body? It's still lying there, unmoving. You follow?"
Leo nodded. "Of course."
"Good. I hate dealing with people who aren't smart. Most of the time, even after explaining everything, they still don't get it—and I really can't stand repeating myself."
Rogue waved her hand. "Alright, let's return to the previous topic... Advanced-tier VR training systems can project the sensory environment of a braindance into real space, allowing your body to physically react and move during the session."
"Wait a second—projecting braindance visuals into real life? That sounds like pure science fiction. Is something like that even possible?"
For someone who had grown up reading countless webnovels, simulating reality seemed like just the tip of the iceberg for human imagination.
But imagination was still imagination, and the gap between fiction and reality wasn't something you could just cross with ease—it was more like an insurmountable wall.
Rogue picked up a crystal-clear wine glass and took a sip.
"What do you take modern tech for? You think we're still living in the 20th century? Equipment capable of simulating reality was invented over fifty years ago."
"The only difference was, back then, that level of tech was monopolized by megacorps."
"Ever heard this saying? 'The tech available to the public lags behind what corporations really have by thirty to fifty years.'"
"Let's go back to the desert example. In a regular braindance, no matter how far you run or how long you go, it's only your brain that's moving—your body just lies there, motionless."
"But in the desert projected by an advanced-tier VR training setup, you'd actually feel the scorching sun, the sweltering air, and the burning sand beneath your feet. And more importantly, your body would be moving. You'd be running. For real."
"Crazy, right? When I first heard about it, I made the same face you're making now—but that's the truth."
Rogue set the glass down and lit a cigarette. Smoke curled upward.
Leo frowned slightly, but the tactical goggles he wore filtered out the secondhand smoke, so he didn't breathe any of it in.
Rogue noticed and stubbed out the cigarette. "My bad. Old habit."
"When you really think about it calmly," Rogue continued, "it's not that unbelievable. We've already merged metal and flesh, installed software directly into our brains, and even colonized the moon—something that once seemed like a distant fantasy."
"So, yeah, creating a device that simulates reality? Totally within reach."
Leo nodded in understanding. "You only mentioned three models. What about the last one?"
"The top-tier one? Don't even bother. It's strictly controlled by megacorps. No middleman or arms dealer can get their hands on it."
"Not even you?"
Rogue chuckled. "I'm just a middleman, not some wish-granting koi fish."
If Rogue herself was saying that, then it really was off-limits.
Leo lowered his expectations.
"Alright then. I'll take one of the advanced-tier VR training units."
But to Leo's surprise, Rogue still shook her head. "Sorry, I don't have that either."
"Seriously?"
"I already told you. I only have entry-level and basic-tier systems," Rogue explained patiently. "This isn't some off-the-shelf toy. Only a few top-tier corps can make this kind of gear, and they guard it tightly."
"They're willing to export smart weapons overseas, but they'll never put VR training systems on the market—not even if someone offers big money."
Leo frowned.
"So there's really no way at all?"
If he was going to set up a VR training room, of course he wanted the best system possible. Not just for himself, V, and Lucy—but also for Panam's crew and future clients who needed specialized services.
Rogue thought for a moment, then looked Leo in the eye.
"If you're absolutely set on it, I know someone who might be able to help. I'll need to reach out first. I'll call you after."
"But even if they can get one, do you have the cash? This won't be cheap."
Leo started calculating.
His main revenue right now came from manufacturing smart weapons using the materials and components provided by Padre. After subtracting costs and Padre's cut, he now netted about €$350,000 per day.
That's €$10.5 million a month.
From the rescue of José and the elimination of Hector Salamanca, they had earned €$18 million total.
€$8 million of that had been split evenly between him, V, Lucy, and Jackie—since the four of them had handled José's rescue together.
As for taking out Hector, Jackie hadn't participated, so the remaining €$10 million was split between Leo, V, and Lucy.
Leo now had nearly €$30 million on hand. At least €$10 million had to be set aside for Rocky Ridge operations and paying Panam's crew.
So he had just under €$20 million available.
He didn't know if that would be enough—but even if it wasn't, he could ask Dante González for a loan. Rogue herself might even be a viable option if needed.
Besides, next month he'd bring in another €$10.5 million from smart weapon sales.
All in all, it wasn't a crisis.
Of course, if Rogue's contact quoted an outrageously high price, Leo wasn't going to force it.
The VR training room was important—but not urgent. If the cost was too steep, he could wait. There would be another opportunity.
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While waiting for Rogue's call, Leo returned to Rocky Ridge Mountain.
Though the place still looked like a construction site, it was his future company. Thinking of that gave the chaotic activity a sense of purpose and vitality.
Before Rogue got back to him, however, an unexpected visitor arrived at the mountain.
A man in a blue suit sat waiting in one of the temporary prefab rooms. What stood out was that all of his fingers had been replaced with gleaming silver cybernetic ones.
"You are…?"
"Mr. Leo, apologies for showing up unannounced. You can call me Mr. Hands."
Mr. Hands—a fixer from Pacifica.
He was the only well-known fixer in Night City that Leo hadn't crossed paths with yet.
Fixers from Pacifica weren't exactly rare, but they weren't too common either. Aside from Mr. Hands, the only other famous one was that dead bastard Faraday—also from Pacifica.
Pacifica itself? It was like a city within a city.
Heywood chaotic? Sure.
Watson chaotic? Also yes.
But compared to Pacifica? Those places were child's play.
Pacifica was practically a warzone—explosions every day, it was a place of sheer madness. No one could figure out how ordinary civilians managed to survive there.
What baffled people even more was how Mr. Hands managed to thrive in that environment.
He used to be like El Capitan—just another corpo grunt. His real name was Wade Black, and he worked for Petrochem.
He had climbed pretty high in the corporate ladder—until someone above decided to make him a scapegoat during a restructuring. That's when he walked away from Petrochem, abandoned his past, and reinvented himself as Mr. Hands, a fixer of Pacifica.
He barely escaped with his life.
But Petrochem still had a bounty on his head, so he altered his appearance.
From that point on, no one ever saw his real face again. Even during holo-calls, he always used visual filters—covering his upper body in shadow so no one could get a clear look.
And now, this always-reclusive fixer had suddenly shown up in person at Rocky Ridge?
What was going on?
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