Osiris' mechanical tentacles unconsciously traced a complex trajectory in the air, as if outlining some grand blueprint.
"To complete the gig, you gotta be re-chromed. Not just some flatline weaponry or simple chrome tweaks, but a total, custom overhaul from your basic frame to your tactical thinking. Only then will you even have a sliver of a chance to pull this off." The future he described was both alluring and filled with an unknown dread.
Re-chromed? After that, would they still be themselves?
These words plunged Maine into an even deeper dilemma.
On one side was Sasha, his comrade in life and death, whom he could never watch die; on the other was leading the entire team, these partners he considered family, into an unknown, extremely dangerous situation, possibly even losing the independence and freedom they had struggled to maintain.
His fists were clenched, knuckles white from the effort, the muscles on his rugged face taut, his heart battling internally. Dorio stood silently beside him; she could feel Maine's body stiffen and understood his inner struggle.
Falco pushed up his sunglasses, his gaze behind the lenses flickering with calculation and deliberation.
Pilar nervously rubbed his hands, looking at Maine, then at Sasha on the medical bed, finally lowering his head.
Just then, Rebecca's voice rang out again, breaking the heavy atmosphere, with her characteristic, reckless defiance: "Choom! What's the hes? Maine! Sasha's preem fam! For fam, we flatline for the gig!"
She abruptly turned to Osiris, her green optical implants fixed on him, as if to brand him into her soul, "Red-robed boss! I am good for my word! You save Sasha, my life's yours! You point east, I ain't lookin' west; you tell me to deck a corp, I'm chippin' in! Preem!"
Her declaration was simple, direct, and powerful, stemming from the most basic street logic of loyalty. For her, the safety of family outweighed abstract freedom and future risks.
Rebecca's almost reckless declaration was like a key, instantly unlocking the shackles in Maine's heart.
He looked around—Dorio's eyes were steady, and she gave him a slight nod, expressing support for Rebecca's decision; Falco pushed up his glasses, silent but firm; even Pilar, who was usually afraid of death, swallowed, cringed, but didn't voice any objection.
They were a unit; the safety of family was above all else, including his own stubbornness about "freedom."
He saw the same determination in his partners' eyes; for Sasha, they were willing to gamble their future.
Maine exhaled a long, deep breath, as if expelling all the struggles and worries from his chest.
He raised his head, his gaze once again firm, meeting Osiris' unfathomable optical lens, his voice low and strong, with the resolve of someone who had laid down a heavy burden: "Alright, Boss... you got the jackpot. You help Sasha... I, Maine, representin' the Edgerunners crew, pledge our ourselves to you. We're your rig, now. Your gigs, we run 'em."
As these words left his mouth, he felt a strange sense of relaxation, as if he had unburdened himself of the long-standing weight of leading the team alone, yet a hint of gloom quietly settled in his heart—where would they go?
Osiris seemed to have anticipated this outcome.
He nodded slightly, the crimson glow flickering steadily, without much joy, only the calm of a "deal concluded": "A wise choice. Your loyalty will earn Sasha's life, and... the path to greater power. This deal is fair."
For him, this was merely the beginning of a plan, another integration of resources and power.
"Then, Boss," Maine immediately pressed, needing to know what they would face, "can you lay out the gig? What exactly is the mission that requires us to flatline our independence to complete?"
Rebecca also perked up her ears, guessing: "Is it to steal preem ware from Arasaka or Militech? Like that underground base last time?"
Upon hearing this, Osiris let out a short, almost scoffing exhalation, the sound carrying undisguised contempt through his faceplate.
"Stealin' from corpos? Hmph. Are those little bits of junk developed based on their shallow understanding and short-sighted pursuit of eddies worth me goin' to such lengths, specially buildin' a crew to raid?" His disdain was heartfelt, stemming from the vast differences in technological levels and cognitive dimensions between the two worlds.
The technology of the Cyberpunk world, in his eyes, was mostly primitive and crude in design and utilitarian in application, lacking a deep understanding of the universe's fundamental laws.
While the technology of the Warhammer Universe might appear terrifyingly crude and primitive in appearance, its actual technological content... you could understand it as a vertebrate that hasn't yet evolved into a monkey looking at a spaceship that has already landed on the moon.
"My goal is far beyond any material wealth in this world." Osiris' tone remained calm, but the meaning it contained sent a strange chill down Maine and the others' spines. "The domain it involves is beyond your current knowledge structure. Knowing the details too early would be of no benefit to you, only adding unnecessary psychological burden and risk."
He wasn't being mysterious but making a factual judgment.
Explaining the multiverse, dimensional travel, or even the horrors of the Warhammer Universe to them would only cause confusion and fear, doing no good for the mission.
He changed the subject, pulling everyone's attention back to reality: "Now, your primary task is to survive and become stronger. Focus on improving your own strength.
Transformation, training, familiarizing yourselves with new equipment and tactics... this is the only thing you need to worry about at this stage."
He glanced at Sasha, whose vital signs were weak on the medical bed, and continued: "As for Sasha, I will continue to push forward, but you need to understand that infiltrating the Blackwall is not a simple matter. Although it's effortless for me, it still requires time to do it.
And my time is very precious; I need to carve out time from my existing work schedule specifically for this, which is also a huge investment of resources for me."
Osiris turned to Maine, his tone returning to a businesslike calm: "Although you have pledged loyalty, this does not mean I will provide everything unconditionally. Weapons, equipment, special materials required for modification surgeries... these still need to be 'paid' for.
Of course, as my direct subordinates, you can get internal prices, much cheaper than before. And you can prioritize the use of my workshop's facilities and resources."
Rebecca muttered softly to the side: "Damn, thought chippin' in with a big choom meant free chrome..."
But there wasn't much dissatisfaction on her face.
Having grown up scrambling in the streets, she knew better than anyone that there was no free lunch in the world.
If Osiris really provided everything for free, it would instead mean that the price they had to pay might be even more terrifying, perhaps even their souls or their ultimate utility.
This clear pricing method, on the contrary, made her feel more "real."
"Got it, Boss. Just flash us the bill." Maine nodded in understanding, knowing that the priority was to save Sasha; everything else could wait.
He glanced at his team members. Although there was confusion about their new gig—a little worried about being fully Osiris's chooms now—there was more determination to save their comrade.
"Very good." Osiris said no more, gesturing for Maine's crew to temporarily leave the workshop. He needed to focus his energy on Sasha's initial stabilization: "Hit the street. Keep your comms open; I'll buzz you when I need you to haul some gear."
Maine took a deep look at Sasha, then nodded to his team members.
The group silently turned and left the workshop, the heavy metal door slowly closing behind them, separating inside and out into two worlds.
The atmosphere in the ride was heavy; no one spoke. Everyone was immersed in the complex emotions brought by the fate-deciding negotiation they had just experienced.
Watching Maine and the others leave, Osiris turned, the hem of his dark red robe sweeping the ground as he walked towards the central workbench.
His mechanical tentacles deftly operated the terminal, pulling up Sasha's detailed scan data, and continuing to adjust the subsequent treatment process.
At the same time, he allocated a portion of his processing threads to reconnect to the external monitoring interface of the Dimensional Transporter.
In the internal visual interface, invisible to Maine and the others, a vast data stream surged like a galaxy.
Osiris' logic core operated at high speed, not only calculating the optimal path for Sasha's body repair but also deducing a new, more cautious plan.
His original intention was to personally return to the Warhammer Universe once he confirmed that the Dimensional Transporter could stably communicate between the two worlds and after he had initially cracked the coordinate positioning technology.
There, he had a laboratory he couldn't take with him, accumulated technical resources, and even a small detachment of Adeptus Mechanicus forces entirely under his command.
Those forces were crucial for his foothold and development in this unfamiliar world.
However, the risk of personally returning always existed.
The Warhammer Universe was far more dangerous than here. An accidental spatial disturbance, an unstable teleportation landing, or even being detected by certain entities in that universe upon his return could all lead to severe consequences.
He could not put all his bets on a single high-risk personal action.
Now, with Maine's crew's allegiance, he had a new, more efficient option.
"Perhaps… I don't need to risk it myself." This thought flashed through Osiris' consciousness.
He recalled legends he had heard in the Warhammer Universe about certain Archmagos, such as the enigmatic Belisarius Cawl.
It was said that they could create "Cogitator" systems capable of carrying their memories and thought patterns, and even create replicas or proxies with independent operational capabilities.
Although his technology was far from Cawl's miraculous level, the basic principles were similar.
A bold plan gradually formed in his mind.
He could try to create a precise "Cogitator" core, inject it with highly efficient logical code parsed, purified, and reconstructed from rogue AIs, enabling it to possess a high degree of autonomous judgment and learning capabilities.
Then, he would deeply synchronize and simulate this core with some of his own key memories, technical knowledge, understanding of the Warhammer world, and pre-set mission directives to a limited extent.
The "proxy" thus created, while not possessing his full emotions and intuition, would be sufficient to simulate most of his decisions when handling pre-set tasks and responding to known situations, especially when dealing with Adeptus Mechanicus subordinate units, where it could mimic his behavioral patterns and authorization commands.
Then, he would have this deeply modified and enhanced Edgerunners squad escort this "proxy" back to the Warhammer world.
Maine and the others' loyalty, their combat experience, and their enhanced survival capabilities after customized modifications were enough to serve as a temporary, small-scale "Adeptus Mechanicus" or exploration squad.
They would not need to directly challenge the terrifying entities of that world; they only needed to protect the "proxy" to safely reach the designated coordinates—his former laboratory or secret stronghold—and assist the "proxy" in completing tasks such as resource recovery, data download, activating pre-set protocols, or linking up with the Servitor and Adeptus Mechanicus forces left behind.
Their street-smarts and adaptability might play an unexpected role in dealing with certain levels of chaos in the Warhammer Universe.
Even if the mission failed, the "proxy" was destroyed, or the squad suffered losses, he would only lose an exploratory branch and some investment. His core body and technical foundation would remain intact, allowing him to re-plan.
This conformed to the principle of risk diversification.
"A plan worth trying." Osiris silently confirmed the feasibility of this idea.
This perfectly explained why he needed Maine's crew's absolute loyalty and thorough modification—they would become his tentacles for exploring multiple dimensions, an extension of his power in another world, and an important barrier to reduce risks to his main body.
His investment in them was, in essence, an investment in his own safety and future development.
Of course, this plan was currently only a prototype.
Both the creation of the "proxy" Cogitator and the deep modification of Maine's crew would require time and massive resources.
The initial team calibration and Sasha's treatment could proceed simultaneously, laying the groundwork for subsequent deeper modifications.
The development of the "proxy" would need to be built upon more stable energy and a deeper analysis of the rogue AI code, which brought him back to his need for underground base modifications and energy core upgrades.
He pulled back his wandering thoughts, refocusing his main processing threads on Sasha's life support system and the real-time data monitoring of the Dimensional Transporter.
Inside the workshop, the cold hum of machinery continued, but beneath that metal mask, a grand plan connecting two dimensions and utilizing local resources to explore another world had quietly planted its seeds.
And Maine and his Edgerunners, without fully knowing their future fate, had, for the sake of saving a family member, involuntarily stepped into the center of this trans-dimensional vortex, beyond their imagination.
Their loyalty, their strength, and even their future forms would be re-chromed to adapt to their creator's ambition and needs, which transcended this world.
Osiris began injecting Sasha with specialized nanite repair agents and neural stabilizing fluid.
At the same time, another part of his consciousness had already begun drafting preliminary enhancement plans for each member of Maine's crew, as well as the basic design framework for the "proxy" Cogitator. The work had only just begun.