However, facing Sasha's inquiry and everyone's hopeful gazes, Osiris simply countered with a question: "Why should I jack in for you?"
A dead silence fell over the workshop, with only the low hum of the energy core and the faint whoosh of the equipment's heat dissipators echoing.
The excited hope on the faces of Maine's crew members was like a flame extinguished by ice water, leaving only wisps of smoke and a biting chill.
Osiris' steady, synthesized voice broke the silence. His tone still lacked inflection, yet it precisely dissected reality: "Helping Sasha execute the 'Blackwall Announcement' plan is technically feasible.
But targeted operations against the Blackwall require a corresponding price.
Energy, rare materials, my time, and specific knowledge are all limited resources. You need to provide a reason sufficient to balance this cost."
His words carried the directness characteristic of a technician. His crimson optical sensors steadily swept over everyone, as if conducting a necessary assessment.
This purely rational scrutiny made Rebecca uncomfortable. She disliked the feeling of being quantified and analyzed.
Maine took a deep breath and stepped forward. His tall stature still seemed somewhat imposing before Osiris, but his tone was solemn: "Boss, this time, consider it me, consider our whole crew, owing you a massive biz-favor.
Going forward, whenever you need us, as long as you ask, and it ain't crossin' our red line, we'll straight up never refuse a gig."
This was the heaviest promise he could make as a team leader. In Night City, a favor from a top Edgerunners team indeed held considerable value.
He tried to use a street-level approach, to exchange future potential value for this critical assistance.
Osiris shook his head slightly, as if correcting a technical parameter: "The concept of a favor is too soft. Difficult to quantify and value, and it cannot balance the actual risks and resource consumption I would incur by breaching the Blackwall.
I understand the weight of this promise in your value system, but to me, it is not enough to offset the entire cost. This proposal is insufficient."
In his logical framework, unfulfilled promises were indeed no different from empty checks. He needed a price that was clearer and easier to measure in value.
"What about me, then?!" Rebecca suddenly darted forward, her green cybernetic eyes flashing with excitement. She almost used her small body to shield the medical bed, her voice filled with desperate resolve: "Don't you do mods? What's my chrome worth to you? I... I can be your... your on-call input! Anytime! Just help Sasha!"
Her words carried the bluntness of a street girl, placing herself as the final chip on the betting table.
This was the most "direct" way of giving she could think of, even if the idea itself carried naive impulsiveness.
At her words, Pilar was so startled he forgot to rub his aching chest. Dorio's brows furrowed, and Maine immediately barked, "Becca! Shut your trap!"
He knew Rebecca would do anything for Sasha, but such a sacrifice was something they absolutely did not want to see.
A very faint sound, like air passing through, came from beneath Osiris' faceplate.
His optical sensors lingered for a moment on Rebecca's clearly childish face and short stature, his tone steady but clear: "Firstly, I am not a lolicon; I have no interest in your physiological characteristics.
Secondly, although I retain some biological instincts, my emotional needs outweigh purely physiological ones.
Your proposal does not conform to the principle of efficiency, and... it lacks practical significance." He paused briefly, then added, maintaining the objectivity of a technical assessment, "From the perspective of biological compatibility and social adaptability, this proposal does not meet the optimal choice and would cause me inconvenience."
Rebecca's face immediately flushed red, whether from shame or anxiety. She tried to argue further but was stopped by Maine's gaze.
A sense of powerlessness enveloped her. She realized that before this red-robed entity, even "sacrificing" herself seemed so impractical.
Maine realized that Osiris was not deliberately making things difficult, nor was he completely unmoved by Sasha's plight.
He was simply following a set of efficiency-oriented exchange principles that they had not yet fully understood.
What he needed was not vague promises or impulsive dedication.
Maine took a deep breath, suppressing his inner anxiety, and looked steadily at Osiris' deep red optical sensors: "Boss, straight up. What's the deal? You know we won't kill the only hope for Sasha, and you also know we can't deck the kind of eddies your Blackwall tech is worth. What exactly do you want? Just lay it out."
He gave up on maneuvering, preparing to accept the most direct terms.
Osiris seemed to approve of Maine's directness. He nodded slightly, finally stating his specific conditions, his voice steady and clear: "My demands are very clear. I need you, Maine, and your entire Edgerunners team, to swear allegiance to me.
We will establish a solid subordinate relationship, not a loose collaboration. You need to obey my commands and serve my objectives. On these terms, I will offset the cost and risks I incur by using Blackwall technology to help Sasha."
"Allegiance?" Maine's brows immediately furrowed. This word triggered his instinctive resistance.
As a veteran who survived the Unification War, he had personally witnessed too much callousness from corporations and those in high positions.
He left the military to form this team precisely to escape the fate of being controlled by others, to retain the last bit of autonomy in this city with his trusted "family."
Swearing allegiance to another "superior" with a mysterious identity and unfathomable technology?
This almost touched his bottom line.
Images of comrades falling under corporate armed fire flashed through his mind. Those moments of freedom bought with blood constantly reminded him.
"What kind of gigs are we talking about?" Maine did not immediately refuse but asked in a deep voice. He needed to assess the actual risks. "If it's just high-difficulty commissions, my squad can execute them immediately, and the rewards can offset the cost of your intervention this time."
He was still trying, hoping to maintain the relationship at a relatively equal level of employment.
Osiris shook his head again, rejecting Maine's proposal: "No, Maine. You underestimate the danger of future tasks, and you overestimate your team's current strength.
In your current state—dead gear, low-spec chrome, and tactical thinking still limited to street-level scraps—executing the tasks I plan would inevitably result in total annihilation."
His analysis was calm and accurate, like a diagnostic report revealing the flaws beneath Maine's crew's apparent strength.
His words clearly reached everyone's ears: "The survival of the team itself is not my primary consideration; that would merely be the loss of some test data and potential tools.
But the failure of the mission is something I cannot accept. This concerns matters far more important than Sasha's life, even more important than the existence of your entire team."
Osiris did not hide his "pragmatist" stance; this frankness actually made him seem genuine.
In his view, Maine's crew's value lay in its malleability and future potential, and to unlock that potential, they first needed to be brought completely under his control.