The Synth looks up at you miserably, his head dipped low. "Working... With a rat...? Working..." He stares at the ground in deep thought. He ponders over who's side his fate will meet: dying by the Monarch, or working with the Mafia. Working... After a flinch of mental pain from his KAP-8 deficiency, the Synth glances back up at you. "I was made to serve... To do the bidding of the ones who made me what I am. But you've made me realize something, Cyborg. Realize that I can be something else, something that can still work." He pauses. "I was made to work, rat, and I want to work. So I will join you." He then ducks down and growls as another pulse of pain hits him.