Warhammer: The Time Traveler

Chapter 16 Mann's Decision

Rebecca and Pila, carrying the plates Dorio had given them, found a relatively quiet corner to sit down.

On the plate were several pieces of browned synthetic protein, topped with a layer of sticky, artificially shiny orange sauce, a lump of nutrient paste, and two boiled cultured bean pods that barely resembled vegetables.

The food smelled of cheap flavorings and basic carbohydrates mixed together, barely masking the inherent smell of machine oil and dust in the warehouse.

"Damn, I'm starving." Rebecca grabbed her fork, stabbed into the egg white block, took a big bite, and chewed mechanically.

The taste of the synthetic meat was as bland as ever, with an indescribable chemical aftertaste, but at least it filled my stomach.

Pila carefully picked up a bean pod with his newly repaired metal fingers, but didn't eat it right away.

He peered through his flashy goggles at Mann, Dorio, and Falco, who were whispering to each other on the other side of the warehouse, and lowered his voice: "They're still watching us... Little sister, do you think the boss really believes it?"

"Eat your food and stop talking nonsense." Rebecca didn't even look up, pointing at his plate with her fork. "Whether we believe it or not is not up to us. If we're exposed now, forget about all the good stuff, Boss Mann will be the first to dismantle us and sell us for scrap."

She swallowed the sticky stuff in her mouth, then scooped out a spoonful of the nutritional paste. "It tastes like poop, but it'll give you the strength to take a beating."

Pila sighed, finally stuffing the pod into his mouth and eating it with a bland taste.

“I know…it’s this thing,” he subconsciously touched his temple with his fingertip. “It’s so fucking quiet. It used to always have a buzzing sound, but now there’s nothing at all, which is creepy. And this arm, it feels so light it doesn’t feel like my own…”

He swung his left arm with astonishing fluidity, even creating a faint gust of wind.

Rebecca stopped chewing, her green prosthetic eye scanning his uneasy face in the dim light.

“Listen, you idiot,” her voice was unusually low, devoid of its usual irritability, “we’re still alive, the car isn’t stolen, and our gear has been upgraded—that’s the result. The process… doesn’t matter.”

“Once we get the batteries he wants and complete the first transaction, let Mann see the benefits firsthand, then we can slowly explain those… weird parts. If we tell him now, he'll definitely think the risk is too high and cut off the deal immediately.” She slurped up some sauce. “Eat up, and then we’ll check where we can get those damn military-grade energy batteries. They’re not easy to find.”

The brother and sister fell silent, swallowing their typical Night City low-class meal—efficient, cheap, and enough to sustain life, but utterly devoid of enjoyment.

The air was thick with the chemical smell of food, the unspoken tension between the two, and the whispers from the other end of the warehouse, creating the background music for a dangerous dinner.

As night deepened, most of the warehouse was plunged into darkness, with only the dim yellow light and buzzing of the work lights in the corners emanating from them.

Mann, Dorio, and Falco sat around a scratched metal table, in the center of which floated a holographic projection of the data chip and supply list that Rebecca had brought back. "What do you think?" Mann's voice was deep, his knuckles tapping the table with a dull thud.

“Rebecca’s eyes are custom-made, high-end products; even military-grade technology on the black market doesn’t have this level of clean integration.” Falco pulled up the data stream for comparison. “Pira’s neural interface repair…”

The technique was incredibly precise, almost non-invasive, resembling direct tissue remodeling at the nanoscale. This surpasses the level of most street clinics and even corporate medical services.

Dorio leaned forward with her arms crossed, casting a large shadow under the light: "But they really did come back, and they're in better shape than when they left. That tech lone wolf, whoever he is, showed ability and sincerity."

“Look at this list,” she said, pointing to the projector. “What he wanted—military-grade batteries, specific alloys, prototype neural interfaces…these aren’t common items; they’re hard to get, and sometimes risky. But what he’s giving back is real, high-tech and medical technology.”

“The price is information and these hard-to-get supplies,” Falco calmly pointed out. “What would a lone tech wolf need these for? It doesn’t make sense. I’m more suspicious that it’s a trap set by some company—maybe biotechnology, or even a new player. They’re using the benefits of technology as bait to lower our guard, to collect intelligence or procure contraband for them, and then we end up as test subjects or consumables.” He had seen too many companies’ dirty tricks, and his mind always tended to think the worst.

“Companies usually have a more direct and brutal approach; they don’t go through such a roundabout way, nor are they so picky about ‘junk’,” Mann pondered. “But their stories are definitely exaggerated. That repair shop, a tech lone wolf capable of this level of modification, couldn’t have done it without leaving a trace. The equipment Rebecca described doesn’t seem like something you’d find at an abandoned site.”

His prosthetic eye flickered as he weighed the various possibilities. "I'm worried about something worse...maybe involving something...that we can't understand." He thought of urban legends about remnants of the old internet, roaming AI, or something even more bizarre.

“But we need to strengthen our capabilities, Mann,” Dorio said pragmatically. “The work has been getting tougher lately, the competition is fierce, and the company’s lackeys are getting better and better equipped. If… I mean if, this guy really just wants to make a deal, it’s an opportunity for us. The technical support he can provide could be key. These things are difficult to obtain, but with our channels, we can get them.”

“The risk is too high,” Falco insisted. “The unknown is the same as the uncontrollable. We can’t gamble the safety of the team on a mysterious figure of unknown origin and his strange demands.”

Mann looked at his two most important partners, who represented different perspectives within the team: Dorio saw opportunities and the accumulation of survival capital; Falco saw omnipresent threats and traps.

He pondered for a long time. As the leader, he had to strike a balance on the edge. Complete rejection might mean missing out on a powerful resource and ally, while blind trust could drag the team into an abyss.

“Approach with caution.” Mann made his final decision, his voice calm and decisive. “Falco, you analyze the list and assess the difficulty and risks of acquiring it. Let’s try to complete a small part first to see what he really wants and what he can offer. Let’s start with… that ‘Thunder-7’ high-energy battery. These things can be found occasionally in junkyards and old warehouses, but intact ones are rare. It’s worth testing the waters.”

He looked at Dorio: "Next time, you take a few people with you and keep an eye on things from the outside. If things don't look right, retreat immediately."

Finally, his expression turned particularly serious: "Everything about this tech lone wolf is limited to the three of us. Don't tell the rest of the team yet, especially Rebecca and Pila... I need to observe them further."

Dorothy nodded in understanding. Falco, though still frowning, accepted this relatively safe solution.

The warehouse returned to silence, but a new, tense sense of anticipation filled the air.

(End of this chapter)