Inside the wasteland stronghold, Maine's crew was conducting routine maintenance and training.
Rebecca at the firing range calibrating her new accessories. Pilar at the workbench fiddling with his flashy cyberware paint jobs. Falco checking vehicle sand filters. Dorio in the clearing conducting strength training.
Kiwi huddled at a corner terminal monitoring outer sensor data streams.
A seemingly loose yet highly alert atmosphere permeated the stronghold.
At that moment, the servo-skull test unit #1—always in standby—suddenly emitted monotone electronic tones, breaking the calm: "All Maine crew members, Creator Cairo summons you. Proceed to main workshop immediately."
Voice dropping, the stronghold instantly quieted.
Everyone's movements stopped. Gazes uniformly turned toward Maine.
Rebecca jumped up first, green optics excitedly flickering: "It's here! Finally here! The boss is upgrading us!"
Pilar also excitedly dropped his spray gun, slender mechanical arms waving: "Finally waited for this day! These old relics can finally retire!"
Even usually-steady Falco adjusted shades, mouth corners unable to suppress slight upturns. Dorio stopped training. Fine sweat beaded on bronze skin. She looked toward Maine—gaze steady yet questioning.
Maine took deep breaths. Thick fingers clenched then released. He surveyed crew members with varied emotions, voice grave: "Everyone heard? Pack up. Depart in five minutes. Don't lose composure before the boss."
Kiwi silently stood from terminals, pulling up deep-red coat collars, hiding half her face in shadows. She both anticipated and feared modifications. Cairo's power felt unfathomably deep to her.
The group silently crossed wasteland town's desolate streets, walking toward that workshop emitting low humming.
The closer they got, the more obvious that mixed ozone and high-temperature metal scent in air became. The workshop's massive metal doors silently slid open, revealing interiors illuminated by constant cold light sources—vast spaces.
Cairo's tall dark-red figure stood before central control consoles. Crimson optical lenses swept across entering individuals—zero pleasantries. Morell like a silent guardian stood in shadows at his rear flanks, presence nearly merging with environments.
"You've arrived." Cairo's synthesized voice stayed level and emotionless, cutting directly to topics. "Based on materials you've recently collected plus subsequent mission demands, timing for comprehensively enhancing you has matured."
Rebecca nearly cheered aloud but forcibly restrained herself, only clenching fists tightly. Pilar excitedly rubbed hands, gaze sweeping between Cairo and surrounding oddly-shaped mechanical devices.
Maine stepped forward, attitude respectful: "Boss, we've been awaiting your summons. What missions need us executing?"
Cairo's mechanical fingers lightly tapped control consoles. A complex energy structure diagram floated in air—core being a constantly-twisting, ghostly-light-flickering rift model.
"Mission objective: conduct one live cross-dimensional transport experiment." Cairo's voice carried zero fluctuations, as if stating the most ordinary matters. "You will serve as experimental samples, passing through dimensional rifts I'll soon stabilize, arriving at worlds on the other end, collecting basic environmental data, standing by at preset coordinates awaiting recovery."
These words—like cold water splashing into oil pans—instantly froze everyone's excited expressions.
"Live... cross-dimensional transport?" Pilar's voice somewhat dry. "Boss, you mean... send us... to another world?"
Rebecca also put away excitement, green optics widening: "What's the other side like? Is there air? Won't we drop straight into stars, right?"
Dorio's brow furrowed tightly, looking toward Maine—eyes full of worry. This mission sounded far more dangerous and bizarre than they'd imagined.
Maine's heart also sank sharply.
He'd guessed missions wouldn't be simple but hadn't expected something completely exceeding cognitive categories.
He forced himself staying calm, asking: "Boss, how's this mission's risk assessment? Are coordinates on the other end safe?"
"Risks exist." Cairo's answer remained concise. "Rift stability, coordinate precision on the other end, unknown environmental adaptability—all variables. But necessary safety measures and survival guarantees will integrate into your modifications.
Coordinates on the other end—after preliminary scans—possess basic conditions suitable for carbon-based life continuation."
Cairo didn't reveal Warhammer world information to Maine's crew—just told them preparing. Knowing too much held no benefits for them.
He paused. Crimson optical lenses swept each person: "Choice lies with you. Accept modifications, execute missions—or maintain status quo. But maintaining status quo means your value to me remains at current levels."
The implications were clear.
Not accepting meant abandoning further possibilities, possibly even losing existing shelters.
Maine almost didn't hesitate.
He looked back at his crew members, seeing from their eyes shock, hesitation, but more—a desire pulled by powerful forces, irresistible—especially after witnessing powers Morell and Dorio displayed.
He turned back, heavily nodding toward Cairo: "We accept, Boss. Serving you—we've long been prepared."
Cairo seemed completely unsurprised by his answer.
"Good. Modifications will proceed according to your positioning and mission demands. Maine—as captain and primary firepower. Dorio—close guard and assault. Morell—high-speed assassination and reconnaissance. Rebecca—assault specialist. Pilar—technical support and area control. Falco—vehicle operations and logistics. Sasha, Kiwi—electronic warfare and communications support." He listed each person's responsibilities, as if inventorying tools.
"Modification processes will proceed in batches. Now, leave your existing cyberware data and usage habit feedback. Then return to strongholds awaiting. Specific modification sequences and contents—I'll notify you." No further explanations. No morale-boosting words either.
Cairo finished speaking, then turned back, redirecting attention into data streams jumping across holographic interfaces. That massive dimensional transport device emitted low resonance, as if responding to his focus.
Maine and others silently left data, then under servo-skull "guidance," departed workshops.
On return routes, atmosphere felt somewhat oppressive. Pilar couldn't help speaking first: "Fuck, transporting to another world... this gig sounds cursed just hearing it."
Rebecca quickly recovered spirits, forcefully patting the plasma pistol on her back: "What's there to fear?! Didn't the boss say there are safety measures? Plus after modifications we'll definitely be way stronger than now! Maybe even tougher than Morell!"
Dorio looked toward Maine, quietly saying: "What do you think?"
Maine's expression serious, slowly stating: "We have no retreat paths. From the day we decided following the boss, we were destined facing this level 'troubles.' Plus, thinking about post-modification power... worth the gamble."
Falco sighed: "Yeah, worth gambling. Just didn't expect stakes this high."
Kiwi remained silent throughout, but her hands unconsciously trembled slightly—both fearing unknown missions plus burning anticipation for soon-obtaining electronic warfare cyberware far exceeding current netrunner comprehension capabilities.
They knew—once stepping into modification chambers, there'd be no turning back. But powerful forces ahead—like mirages in deserts—attracted them, these people struggling surviving in Night City, step by step forward.
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