At least it wasn't paranoia clawing at the back of his mind when the company started to describe the place. Really, the hunter was not uninitiated to the Combat Zone's "delights" as this, just the pleasure of having never needed to delve into one. That made the experience all a novelty for the better, rather than just some other plunge into nightmare waters of glowing, unidentifiable cybernetic horror; all the glitter and glamour of the actual city itself and its cheesy, corporate facade really hid the monster to anyone who never went outside the walls. God forbid someone went outside the Zone even into the wasteland, but the man couldn't help but think [i]this[/i] was still worse, undefinable mysterious fluids and all.

As requested however, with a slight, almost sick laugh under his breath, not quite sure what he was even doing now with himself at this point, the gloved hands took up the near murky fluids in their containers. One by one he handed them to the overseer of this demented little experiment, who seemed to grasp them with a remarkable steadiness they had not shown before. Whoever they were, really whatever they were was the best way to describe anything in this pit now, was an entirely different person from what they were outside. Theron went with that, accepting it as the most reasonable mindset, observing carefully every port, connector, wire, and tap that hung limply out of Golemeth.

Kneeling down, giving a sidelong glance to Tracy, the hunter stayed to the side of the mauled frame, shaking his head as his fingers worked to remove some of the wiring that had been damaged, "Fortunate for us he ain't about to go anywhere fast with no limbs and only his essentials still kicking. So once he's on, shouldn't be too trying for you. You seem to know [i]way[/i] too much for your own good on how to make a bot talk."

The exploratory prodding found one of the taps to Golemeth's spinal chord, the wiring laced deep into the nerve fibers, probably some mishmash of flesh and optics. Didn't matter now really, as the man booted the arm of his jacket; sure it wasn't [i]meant[/i] to do this, jump starting an unconscious cyborg, but it would be good enough. Browsing the panel, he disabled it for the moment, opened the face plate, and ported him in.

"Whatever else you need plugged in to get him running now, your go, just hand me the connectors. No assurances this thing will work right to stabilize him either, best I can do is anything physical, this just being our medium." The man remarked as after all it was a monitor and if the components were not synchronizing right in it? Who knew? Tracy, presumably, this seemed to be his forte. 

Worst thing otherwise was that they couldn't get him to sync and see his vitals, not wholly knowing then how to jump him; Theron wasn't a doc after all. If it had a hole in it? Sure, that can be patched. Forcing a boot on a wired up solo back to consciousness? Good luck, he hadn't been too sure how the gangers even took his wiring down. Presumably just too much catastrophic damage from being pieced out like some old junker.

[@Terminal]