Pilar took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down, and began explaining as clearly and thoroughly as possible their names, occupation, how they got into trouble, and everything they knew about Night City's gangs, corporations, important locations, surrounding nomad camps, and wasteland rumors.
Rebecca occasionally added a few comments, her tone brash but information accurate, strenuously emphasizing their local knowledge and practical value, trying to make this terrifying red giant find them useful.
"Rogue at the Afterlife bar? Right, heard of her, supposedly a tough character." Cairo suddenly interjected, voice still steady but startling them both—he actually knew about Rogue? "Continue."
Pilar swallowed and continued, feeling even more uneasy inside.
Rebecca's eyes lit up, seemingly finding common ground: "You know Rogue too? Then do you know her rules? She's Night City's most badass fixer! The Queen of Night City!"
Cairo's lenses slightly rotated, focusing on Rebecca: "My database contains relevant records. Continue providing valid information, do not deviate from topic."
The siblings had to continue reporting, feeling like they were participating in a life-or-death interview.
Cairo listened silently, optical lenses occasionally making minute focus adjustments, recording information into his database for cross-verification.
The servo-skull hovered quietly at his shoulder, silently recording everything.
When hearing certain particularly interesting information, the brow beneath his helmet might have moved imperceptibly, some dusty memory fragments slightly touched, but quickly filed by logic processors as "potentially verifiable data" rather than emotional fluctuations.
"...That's everything we know," Pilar finally said, voice carrying a plea, feeling like he'd endured a long and agonizing defense, "We just want to survive, sir, meant no offense to you. If possible, we'll leave immediately."
Cairo was silent for a moment, seemingly processing information, his massive frame like a silent red colossus, bringing tremendous psychological pressure to the two.
Then he stepped forward, his metal boot sole striking the concrete floor with a clear sound.
The siblings' heartbeats accelerated again, nearly leaping from their throats.
However, Cairo didn't attack them.
One of his tentacles flexibly reached toward those corpses like the most dexterous robotic arm, disregarding those gruesome death states, precisely and efficiently dismantling still-valuable cyberware, chips, and usable parts. The movements were so fluid they were dazzling, neatly organizing and categorizing them before placing them aside.
The entire process was as calm as processing scrapped equipment, carrying a pure focus on material value itself rather than life's cessation. This inhuman calm was somehow more chilling than rage.
"Waste is shameful," he seemed to see through their thoughts, calmly explaining, "Resources should be efficiently utilized."
Only after finishing did he redirect attention to the nervous, nearly rigid pair.
"Situation assessment: You are being pursued by armed organization, vehicle destroyed, resources scarce. Based on current environmental data and threat model calculations, independent survival probability below eighteen percent." His voice remained steady, like delivering an objective technical report. "Proposal: Work for me. Exchange for shelter, necessary survival resources."
He paused briefly, a tentacle rolling up a prototype power gauntlet he'd crafted—integrated with various tools—from the workbench. That arm-armor-like power gauntlet had hard lines radiating brutal beauty.
"And high-performance weapons." He added, lenses seemingly scanning Pilar's left shoulder. "Additionally, can provide necessary physiological function repair and optimization."
That arm armor gleamed with cold, efficient luster under the light, representing for them—currently possessing nothing, living hand-to-mouth—an opportunity for survival and temptation of power that was difficult to refuse.
Rebecca's eyes were immediately drawn to it, pure desire for powerful weapons almost making her forget her fear.
"Whoa, that thing looks like it could punch through walls!" she exclaimed.
Pilar also swallowed, looking at that power-radiating gauntlet, then unconsciously touching his vaguely aching shoulder that affected operations, eyes interweaving fear with intense desire, and surprise: "How did you know my shoulder was injured?"
"Your stance and arm range of motion indicate approximately 11.7% signal degradation in left shoulder neural network," Cairo directly interrupted him, "High probability caused by improper cheap cyberware installation or subsequent collision damage. Affects precise operation."
Pilar opened his mouth, speechless. That observational ability was terrifying.
"Specifically... what would we need to do?" Rebecca pressed, tone softening considerably, wariness mixed with probing, gaze barely leaving that power gauntlet.
"Resource collection, information reconnaissance, miscellaneous processing, equipment testing. Your local knowledge and non-standard operational patterns possess certain value." Cairo answered directly, not concealing their utilitarian purpose. "Compensation includes: security guarantee within my domain, customized enhancement to improve survival rate, including repairing your left shoulder's neural interface wear and signal degradation to stabilize shooting accuracy, and," he looked at Rebecca, lens red light flickering slightly, "adapting more efficient weapon equipment for your combat style."
Rebecca's eyes brightened: "More efficient weapon equipment? Like what?"
"Depends on your performance and resource acquisition." Cairo's answer was quite pragmatic. "Could be enhanced firepower platform, or more flexible mobility equipment."
Pilar's body trembled, clearly very interested in Cairo's proposal.
Rebecca also blinked, extremely interested in those words "more efficient weapon equipment," temporarily overcoming her fear of the red-robed giant.
The siblings exchanged glances, rapidly communicating with their eyes.
Refuse? Outside were the prowling Maelstrom and dangerous wasteland, while this red-robed person, though terrifying, seemed to follow some logic, was reasonable (on some level), and was unimaginably powerful.
Accept? Meant working for this mysterious, inhuman technician, losing some freedom, but also gaining precious opportunity to survive and even grow stronger.
"Does it include meals and lodging?" Rebecca suddenly asked, trying to secure one last concrete thing in this bizarre, unequal negotiation, eyes not leaving that arm armor, as if it were negotiating leverage.
The voice beneath the face mask paused for half a second, as if parsing this overly basic request deviating from technical core.
"Basic energy supplement and physiological maintenance guarantee can be provided. Including synthetic nutrients and water supplementation." Cairo finally confirmed, tone like stating a standard technical support clause, flat and calm.