Chapter 93 - The Factory, Big Purchase, Movie Night, Hot Hesitations & The Troubling Itch IV

Just then, the door shifted open, and a giant figure walked inside. Cypher had received the alert long before and was waiting.

"Maine!" Lucas chirped and ran over to the giant man who'd come alone. "You're early today."

"Hah! Ain't early, kid. This time's for biz. Your pops called me in."

"I ain't his dad," Cypher said, standing up. "I'm his legal guardian. Kinda like a big brother."

"If you say so, Mr. Blackwell."

Cypher shook hands with the man. He liked Maine, straightforward, decently competent, and able to get the job done when needed. Also, willing to take risks and try new things.

"Sit," Cypher said, walked to the nearby cabinet, and grabbed two beers. He passed one to Maine and sat down. "Rebecca was all fired up."

"Huh, when's she not? But I ain't lying, we all got hyped after seeing the news. Scanned the BD before I came through. You a straight beast, Mr. Blackwell. Inventor, corpo, and a merc? You're killing it at every one? Fuck, leave some talent for us little folks, too."

Cypher laughed. He didn't try to correct Maine to call him Cypher. The relationship between them was that of an employer and employee. He had no intention of changing that.

"Yeah, merc work's what kept me breathing after I dipped outta my nomad clan. And building random shit kept food on the table. Now I've got it down and pulled all this off. But that ain't why I called you here, Maine. I had a file put together on you. Over ninety percent success rate on the gigs your crew runs. That's damn good."

"We try our best, boss," Maine replied, his frame making the three-seater couch look small.

Cypher nodded, put his beer aside, and stood up again. He opened a different cupboard, framed into the wall itself like a locket. He took out a large rolled sheet of paper and spread it on the coffee table.

"Can you make sense of it?" he asked.

Maine looked down and instantly spoke. "It's the plans for this building?"

NUSA SpecOps, no wonder.

That was the other reason why he wanted Maine. The man was proven and a tested soldier. Someone even contacted Solomon Reed to join him in building a network of FIA spies in Night City. But Maine was a freebird and refused.

"That's right, the new plans. The top three floors are mine and the Atlantis. Down below, it's a parking lot plus a distribution center for Obsidian's products. The ground and first floors are getting a high-end restaurant, a lounge, and a grand lobby. The rest of it is hotel rooms with an early 2000s vibe, low tech, and really private."

Maine whistled and looked carefully. "Preem! I can picture this selling out quick. City's been needing something like this. Real old school in all the shine and neon. But let me guess, it ain't gonna be affordable for my kind, is it?"

"Wrong. It's specifically for you, our kind, actually. The Continental ain't gonna be some normal hotel, Maine. It's gonna be a global chain with a hidden purpose. It'll cater to mercs, assassins, spies, all the risky types. The Continental's got the data and the contacts; it'll turn into the main hub for jobs. Someone needs a job done, killing, tailing, stealing, whatever, they'll list it up anonymously in the Continental.

"Any merc, assassin, or spy can grab the job, knock it out, get paid, and never even see who hired them. But you gotta be a registered member of the Continental first. Hundred eddies to sign up and proof of your profession. Now, why Continental? Because it's a sanctuary.

"Within the walls of the Continental, all fighting, all violence is prohibited. You might have serious beef with somebody, but if you're both inside, you won't do a damn thing. Place also hooks you up with healthcare, surgeries, chrome, Ripperdocs, guns, ammo, and even bulletproof clothes. Long as you're inside, you're safe."

"And if you don't follow the rules?"

Cypher stared up at Maine's face as seriously as he could. "The Continental's gonna drop an open bounty on whoever breaks the rules. Every merc, every assassin in the city, maybe the whole country if it gets there, they'll know. They can try to hide, sure, but it won't matter. You can hide from the Continental. You won't hide from Obsidian."

Maine stayed frozen for a long while, and then slowly eased back in the seat while sipping the beer. Eventually, after digesting whatever he was thinking, he talked.

"Why you dropping all this on me, boss? If you're inviting me to join up, yeah, I'll join. Ain't seeing no harm in it."

"You're welcome, but that's not it. Maine, the hotel ain't gonna be exclusive. Normal folks are gonna be staying here, too. The members get a gold coin at registration, they flash that at check-in for the other 'services'. I'm hiring the Aldecaldos for regular hotel security, they're solid at keeping the building safe. But I need a hit squad to hunt down and kill anybody who breaks the rules. At the start, some fools won't give a damn about the rules. I want consequences everybody can see."

"You want to flatline some gonks?" asked Maine.

"No, I want you to be the official hit squad of the Continental. Your crew gets some sweet perks. Straight thirty percent off intel buys, twenty off chrome, cheaper guns and ammo too. Plus, you get a private resthouse in the hotel to kick back in, or hit the club upstairs if you want. And yeah, you pocket the bounty on every rule breaker," Cypher explained.

"And we still get to do our own gigs?"

"Long as killing the rule breakers stays the top priority, do whatever you want. I ain't your mommy." Cypher shrugged and relaxed again, finishing his beer. "Sounds too good, I know. But I need someone competent for this job. The first couple of months will decide the future of The Continental. It's gotta build its own street cred, or it's screwed."

Silence washed over the two. Cypher calmly waited.

Maine wasn't the only option he had. He could have hired Rita and her crew as well. But they belonged to Moxes. He wanted someone non-gang-affiliated to be truly neutral.

Besides, he felt the world of Cyberpunk wasn't much different from John Wick. Just like that world, where assassins were dime a dozen around the world, here as well, Mercs were dime a dozen. The future of the Continental was bright. It was troublesome for now because there was no High Table-like entity. Still, what was stopping him from making that damn table himself?

Isn't most of Europe still alright? Korea's reunited. Italy's split. Hm, the world's still fucked overall. And space, bastards got mass drivers aimed down.

"Let's do it, boss," Maine erupted, his large hand extended. "Discounts plus a preem place to chill make it worth it straight up, everything else is cherry. Where do I sign?"

"Welcome aboard." Cypher shook his hand.

Following that, he helped Maine get registered as the first member of the Continental. A gold coin was issued with a unique identification number hidden on it. He told Maine to bring the rest of the crew later to get registered as well.

Though midway, he realised he was going to need a nice concierge for the hotel. Someone who would register new members for him. Maybe a manager as well, since he won't be there forever.

Soon, Maine left. Cypher remained in the club, relaxing for a few moments. Lucas had already gone up to the penthouse to plan his conquest of the new school.

"Atlas, keep tabs on Maine. From what I remember, he's gonna snap cyberpsycho and die soon."

"Understood. I will install a failsafe within his cyberware," Atlas replied. "By the way, you have a scheduled meeting with the Ripperdoc at Character Hill."

"Work, work, work." Cypher tiredly got up and headed out, locking up his office behind him.

He took the elevator to the parking lot and drove out with a chill 90s mix running: Backstreet Boys, Britney, Christina Aguilera, Radiohead, MJ, and so on. It was saddening to him that they were all dead, and that those songs were unknown to the current generation, basically lost to the Old Net. But soon, the Atlantis would reintroduce it all.

"Atlas, what do I gotta do to fully take over the world? Like, actually dominate it and impose my will on it to improve it?" He asked as he drove through Vista Del Rey while Gangsta's Paradise played on low.

Flick!

Like a lightbulb, Atlas' body appeared on the passenger seat, his face looking at him with a big animated keenness.

"Cypher? Have you made up your mind to be the emperor of mankind?"

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