Compared to the hellish Warhammer universe Cairo had just escaped from—where there were warp daemons constantly wanting to devour souls, green-skinned Orks crazed with bloodlust for war, cold and ruthless Necrons seeking to assimilate everything, and humanity's Imperium itself with its dark, oppressive, insane atmosphere that treated technology as heresy...
This equally problematic cyberpunk world before him could practically be called "friendly"!
At least humans were still the dominant species here (though they might be full of cyberware), at least there were no Chaos whispers directly corrupting your brain, at least the tech tree here was something he could roughly understand and use freely without being branded a heretic!
Most importantly, there was cola here, there was a network (though broken), and relatively "normal" city and social structures (though thoroughly rotten)!
"Servo-skull, reassess the environment." His voice was once again filled with pleasure and lightness.
«Assessment revision: Based on currently observable data. Environmental parameters: Stable, but radioactive contamination and extreme weather present. Native organisms: Moderately threatening mutant species exist, behavioral patterns predictable.
Technology traces: Confirmed late Information Age to mass cyberization civilization characteristics. Remote communication attempts and energy signals detected, but network architecture highly fragmented. No warp contamination traces, Ork spore clouds, Tyranid hive fleet signals, or large-scale warfare indicators detected.
Comprehensive determination: Current area survival environment harsh but not continuous combat zone, survival probability significantly elevated compared to most extreme environment templates in database.»
"Exactly." Cairo gently patted the servo-skull's metal cranium, the motion almost describable as "cheerful."
"Energy levels low, but this isn't a frontline battlefield. Network fragmented, but nodes are still usable. Mutant monsters exist, but ten thousand times easier to deal with than Genestealers."
A sense of loss remained—after all, he couldn't return to his real home. But more than that was an enormous sense of relief and... desire for challenge?
"Alright," he said to himself, beginning to scan what else was usable in the repair shop. "First step, find myself reliable energy, then renovate this place, at least build myself a laboratory."
This world was terrible, but for him, this might be a place where he could start over, and even... live quite well.
His boots (or rather, precise multi-terrain adaptive mechanical feet) tread on weathered concrete ground, making nearly soundless light impacts, only producing faint crunching sounds when crushing gravel to break the silence.
Cairo walked through the abandoned town's streets like a red specter from another spacetime.
The servo-skull on his shoulder rotated steadily, faint scanning beams flickering in its hollow eye sockets, overlaying completed building structure x-rays and real-time biological heat signatures like a translucent veil across his optical sensor field of vision.
The air was thick with dust, ozone, and some indescribable scent of rust—the smell of metal's slow death.
Radiation levels remained high, but for his enhanced respiratory filtration system and internal circulation, this was merely one environmental parameter to be recorded.
Absolute silence blanketed this place, only the wind—this land's eternal master—tirelessly shuttling between dilapidated porches and hollow window frames, playing an empty and desolate dirge.
Following several low-intensity biological signal clusters marked by the servo-skull, he first walked toward a half-collapsed covered garage.
As soon as he approached the twisted and deformed rolling door remnants, harsh and threatening hissing sounds came from deep within the shadows.
Immediately after, several hideously formed creatures suddenly burst out—their skin covered in thick, tumor-like keratinous growths, eyes degenerated to cloudy white films, bared fangs glinting with unhealthy yellow light, clearly products of severe radiation mutation.
"Inefficient evolution, ugly forms twisted purely for survival." Cairo commented calmly, his tone carrying that particular scrutiny of inferior creations characteristic of Tech-Priests. He didn't even consider using any energy-consuming weapon systems.
With a thought, two slender yet incredibly tough mechanical tentacles (Mechadendrites) tipped with precision tools shot out like lurking vipers from beneath his robe sleeves!
Whoosh! Whoosh! Two light sounds, and the sharp probes or grippers at the tentacle tips had already pierced with perfect precision through the skulls of the two mutant weasels charging at the front.
Another attempting to attack his lower limbs from the side was casually but precisely stepped on by his ceramite-reinforced foot. A slight application of force produced an unpleasant sound of shattering bones.
The last one was more cunning, attempting to use debris cover to circle behind, not knowing all its actions had already been captured by the servo-skull's omnidirectional sensors.
The skull's jaw opened and closed, emitting an extremely weak directional electric pulse—not for killing, but precisely hitting the ground in front of its nose, splashing up a small cluster of sparks and burnt smell.
The instant the mutant creature retreated in fright, another opportunistic mechanical tentacle thrust out like a spear, ending its misery.
"Threat eliminated. Biological tissue contains weak corrosiveness and radioactivity, recommend isolation during subsequent processing." He calmly assessed, manipulating the tentacles to flexibly shake off the viscous foul blood, as if merely completing routine equipment cleaning.
Having dealt with these small troubles, he could finally carefully examine this garage. The space wasn't large, about forty square meters, but the main structure was actually still intact, not completely buried by sand.
A heavy metal workbench, though covered in rust, remained solid. Tools and several metal boxes of unknown purpose were piled in the corner, and there was even an old vehicle lift with completely failed hydraulic systems.
"Space compact, structural integrity assessed as good, basic tools usable... not bad. With slight organization, can serve as qualified temporary workshop and shelter." He satisfactorily marked this location as a core resource point.
Continuing toward the town center, in a store with damaged facade and long-fallen signage, he encountered a second "resident."
A disc-shaped old cleaning robot. What should have been a smooth white shell was now covered in dents, scratches, and rust-brown stains.
Its optical sensors were completely cloudy, flickering with unstable red light. While meaninglessly repeating the broken electronic voice "Clea—ning—mode—activa—ted... er—ror—," it spun the cleaning brush on top at high speed like a headless chicken and charged straight at Cairo.
Clearly its underlying logic circuits were damaged, identifying any moving object as an obstacle needing elimination.
"Oh? Still executing initial directives after so many years? This persistence is... somewhat touching, though its logic is thoroughly scrambled." Cairo easily sidestepped the chaotic charge.
Physical destruction was the inferior approach for dealing with such low-tech autonomous machines.
A data probe quietly popped out from his wrist, lightning-fast connecting to the maintenance port exposed by the robot's damaged shell on its back.
"Forcibly overwriting core instructions. Execute: Deep sleep protocol. May your circuits find peace."
The robot's frantic movements instantly froze. The red optical sensors flickered a few times before finally going completely dark. The clanking motor also quieted down, becoming a pile of truly quiet scrap metal.
"Servo units, sensors, and some alloy frame components may be recyclable." He noted this down with the principle of making full use of all materials.