The temporary workshop was located in a specially reinforced, standalone building in Charter Hill.
This was originally a defunct security laboratory of a Biotechnica company, offering excellent basic conditions.
After Osiris took over, he did not redecorate or renovate it. Instead, he directly utilized its sturdy structure and existing energy interfaces to deploy core equipment.
The interior space was expansive with sufficient height, retaining the laboratory's original clean lines and reinforced partitions.
The walls were made of dense, bulletproof composite materials, and the floor was covered with conductive metal grids. Thick energy pipelines, temporarily laid, were neatly routed along the base of the walls and the ceiling, connecting to the main control console of the dimensional teleporter in the central area and several server cabinets emitting a low hum.
The air was filled with a faint ozone smell from equipment heat dissipation, and the fresh sensation of air circulated by an efficient filtration system, starkly different from the typical polluted air of Night City.
Several servo-skulls quietly patrolled along their preset paths.
Sekhmet and her Guard Corps heavy guard squad stood silently around key entrances and the main control console. Their exquisitely crafted armor and stern demeanor blended with the modern yet lifeless laboratory space, creating a professional and austere atmosphere.
Maine's crew, Valerie, Jackie, David, and Morris followed the guiding Servitor into this workshop, which combined high technology with temporary setup.
Osiris' massive body, covered in dark red composite armor, stood silently before the main control console in the center of the workshop, his crimson optical lenses turning towards the newcomers.
That inhuman gaze caused everyone except Maine's crew and Morris to feel an instinctive tremor of unease.
"You've arrived," Osiris' voice resonated steadily within the workshop, without any superfluous pleasantries. "I've gathered you all today to clarify our future relationship."
His optical lenses scanned each person present in turn, invisible sensors capturing everyone's physiological signals and subtle facial expression changes.
"I am not of this world," Osiris' opening statement was simple and direct, like stating an established fact: "I come from another universe, a dimension defined by eternal war, profound darkness, and an endless thirst for knowledge.
My identity is an Exploration Archmagos; this is my duty."
He paused deliberately, giving everyone time to process the information.
Maine crossed his arms, his strong prosthetics unmoving; Dorio stood at his side, her expression normal; Lucy and Kiwi exchanged a knowing glance—having experienced dimensional travel, they were not surprised by this truth.
Rebecca, however, was excitedly craning her neck, as if searching for traces of another world.
Valerie and Jackie were clearly stunned.
The two exchanged a look, both reading disbelief on the other's face.
Although they had personally witnessed the Guard Corps' invincibility and the eerie demise of the Arasaka fleet, the straightforward answer of "visitor from another world" still exceeded their understanding.
Jackie's lips moved, instinctively wanting to use a witty remark to lighten the mood, but he swallowed his words under Osiris' calm gaze.
A trace of bewilderment flickered across young David's face, and he subconsciously turned his head to look at Lucy.
The time spent fighting side-by-side had created a certain unspoken understanding between the two young people; this subtle movement now conveyed an imperceptible reliance.
Lucy's gaze briefly met his, and she nodded slightly.
Morris stood quietly in front, her respectful posture already indicating her stance.
"My work is far from over," Osiris continued, his voice as steady as ever, yet carrying an undeniable weight: "I will use this place as a starting point to explore this world and traverse dimensions, journeying to more worlds.
This requires reliable personnel.
You are among the earliest individuals I contacted in this world and invested resources in for observation and testing.
Data shows that you possess the value and potential for further training."
He gave no room for interruption, directly revealing the core issue, without a hint of circumlocution in his words: "Now is the time for you to make a choice. Voluntarily pledge allegiance, dedicating your skills and lives to my exploratory endeavors, and unconditionally abide by my rules and directives.
In return, you will gain resources beyond this world's imagination, cutting-edge technological enhancements, and security and status under the protection of my order."
He paused slightly; within the workshop, even the hum of the equipment seemed to deepen, and the servo-skull's patrol trajectory appeared to become heavier.
Although Sekhmet and the Guard Corps did not move an inch, the invisible pressure suddenly tightened.
"Or," Osiris' voice remained absolutely steady, but every word seemed to be condensed with ice, "you choose to refuse. In that case, based on the fundamental principles of efficiency and resource management, I must recover the initial investment in observation costs, testing resources, and the expenses of providing protection.
The most effective way to compensate is to 'reformat' you—stripping away unnecessary personal will and emotional redundancies, transforming you into absolutely obedient, highly efficient Servitors.
Your physiological functions and some skills will be retained, serving my research in another, purer form."
The choice was laid bare, simple, direct, and cruel.
On one side was retaining one's self and embarking on a path to the unknown but full of possibilities; on the other was losing everything completely, becoming a tool to compensate for resource loss.
There was no middle option, no room for negotiation.
The scene fell into a dead silence, with only the low hum of the cooling system's continuous operation and the subtle sounds of the servo-skull's optical lenses turning, tapping at everyone's nerves.
Maine's thick fingers unconsciously rubbed the joints of his mechanical prosthetic hand, emitting a faint metallic friction sound.
He looked around at his team members—Dorio met his gaze, subtly lifting her chin; Lucy and Kiwi looked calm, as if they had long anticipated this situation; Rebecca was grinning, looking eager for some big action.
They had blown up Arasaka Tower together, set foot in another world, and returning to Heywood to take on gang wars or stakeouts and catching cheaters did indeed seem a bit... demeaning.
In Night City, who you followed as a boss was more important than anything, and this one, clearly, was not a boss in the ordinary sense.
He cleared his throat, his voice slightly hoarse from years of smoking: "Alright. Having seen your big moves, boss, going back to scraping by on the streets really is boring."
He spoke very directly, without any flowery language, "Working for you, boss, sounds like it has more potential."
Dorio gave a brief "Mm," as if in agreement.
Sasha and Kiwi exchanged a look; as netrunners who had witnessed Osiris' terrifying abilities, they had no thought of defying him whatsoever.
Rebecca was already excitedly nudging Pilar next to her with her elbow: "Hear that? From now on, we're going to be doing big things!"
Osiris' optical lenses swept over Maine's crew members one by one, the cold red light subtly adjusting its focus.
"A wise choice," he responded blandly, data streams silently recording each person's reaction pattern.