Gabriel's Scrutiny
"Finally convinced the top brass. Well, not that they trusted it."
"Thanks, Gabriel."
"Nothing's changed. You're just a guinea pig to squeeze data out of a faulty reject."
Gabriel stroked his freshly shaved, smooth chin.
"Come to think of it, this is actually a worse spot. At least the old way gave you a shot at living longer, right?"
"……."
Gabriel shot the go-between a glance before shifting his gaze forward. Through the thin glass partition, he could see Rabe undergoing checks inside the donut-shaped device. He mumbled something, but it wasn't the sort of thing to say in front of the guy.
'This one's so damn selfish anyway.'
He held back the blunt truth to spare the man's feelings. Colleague or not, the guy was still his instructor.
"Gonna have a word with her."
"A word? What about?"
"Doesn't matter. My med team's giving this outsider the hands-on treatment—she's gotta be vetted, right?"
With that, Gabriel stepped out of the monitoring room. Right on cue, Rabe emerged from the device, having wrapped up her scan.
Whirr—
The bed I'd been lying on slid smoothly out into the open. After staring at that sleek device surface for what felt like forever, its absence left me feeling oddly exposed. The scan had already dragged on for three hours. I was starting to wear thin.
Lying there in a daze, waiting for the next nurse to haul me off somewhere, the door whirred open. But it wasn't one of the usual handlers.
"Hey, kiddo."
A tall guy with a crisp, manly voice. My bad eye made details fuzzy, but the silhouette screamed handsome.
That face suddenly filled my view as I stared up at the ceiling lights. I squinted against the backlight draping him in silhouette, peering up.
"Who…."
"Gabriel. Owner of the med team patching you up."
Gabriel. I swallowed hard.
Rank 23—solid mid-upper tier pilot. Member of AAE's elite Nexus unit, Seraphim.
Why the shock? 'First time seeing a pilot in the flesh?'
Yeah, that was it. Every other pilot I'd crossed paths with had been sealed in their Nexus, showing up only as that machine. Never like this—human-shaped, right in front of me.
Metal frames never rendered proper human forms anyway. With Gabriel, I'd only caught his voice in in-game dialogue.
'So this is what he looks like….'
Couldn't make out fine details, but enough to guess his vibe. Community fan theories about his looks, all that user speculation—it locked into one image now.
'Not far off what I figured.'
His voice had always sounded cool and a bit cocky, so the consensus was ruggedly handsome with an edge. Variations existed, but he nailed the overlap.
The surprise ebbed away.
"So you're Rabe."
Gabriel loomed by the bed, looking down.
"Yeah, definitely off-script. But I'm not buying it. Explains why that softie caved, though."
He glanced toward the glass partition.
"Fair enough—a kid tugs at heartstrings. And he's got more humanity than your average suit, rare as that is."
"……."
"Adam's story. My instructor. Gotta have some heart to train pilots or raise anyone, right? I know the type."
Gabriel muttered it with a hint of fondness, then switched gears, eyes locking on me.
"But that's pointless sentiment. Don't you think?"
"……."
"Gloomy little thing. Not very kid-like. Just the shell. Something off inside."
Gabriel let out a light sigh.
"Adam knows no sane kid pilots a Nexus stone-cold sober. Anyway…."
Thud.
He gripped the bed with both hands.
"I'm not like Adam, handing out favors for nothing. Count yourself lucky he's involved. Otherwise? Dead in the water."
"Ah, got it."
"Even now, the basics are just enough to keep you from frying in a Fallen Angel. Custom corporate aids? That's major privilege— you know that, yeah?"
Gabriel tapped my head.
"Gotta be sharp in there. I know it's no ordinary kid brain. Adult-level, probably."
"…Yeah."
Sharp as hell. I nodded like I'd heard him loud and clear.
"Right. So the extras—daily-life aids beyond just Fallen Angel piloting? Not mission essentials. Perks. You'll get 'em post-job."
"That's straight-up pay."
"Exactly. Aids to keep your body functional—as compensation. Sweet deal?"
Handing it all upfront would've felt excessive. His terms made sense, so I nodded, satisfied.
Gabriel eyed my reaction.
"See? Can't even handle basic goodwill. Gloomy."
"…? Well… no such thing as free lunch."
Assuming strings attached was just smart. He frowned deeper—shadows gathered around his brow.
"Adam's heart is wasted on you. No qualification. None."
"…Huh? What…."
He stared long, then sighed heavily and let go. As he stepped away, a nurse swapped in seamlessly.
Before exiting the exam room, Gabriel paused by the door, glancing back at the bed.
"Prove it. That's all the unqualified you can do—prove yourself."
The bed whisked me off to the next station.
The tests ran all day. Weirdly, it was just lying there getting dragged around or poked passively—yet I crashed into bed at the dorm like I'd slaved away, out cold in seconds.
'Even that wears you out….'
Munching a protein bar, I watched snow fall outside. White facility, white snow—impossible to tell where one ended and the other began. My hazy vision made it worse. Whiteout.
'How do people work in a place like this?'
Gazing past the vast complex at drifting helis, I sat on the plush bed a moment longer.
"Nngh."
Grabbed the wheelchair beside me and transferred over. Inside matched outside—all sterile white. Ceramic floors faintly mirroring surroundings, walls in pale tile. Bare feet brushing floor in transit sent a chill numbing my toes.
No heat? Winter seeped right in.
Ding!
The dorm alarm chimed. Whirr— door slid open, and an employee in drab uniform—who'd apparently been waiting—stepped in, took the chair handles, and wheeled me out.
'Devices ready, huh.'
Fast turnaround. Elite corp pilot's team moved at this speed?
'Not the full set today—just partial….'
Still a win. No reason to complain—essential for Fallen Angel anyway.
"……."
The guy said nothing, just wheeled me silently to delivery.
Mid-medical wing.
"Here—the auxiliary devices for independent merc Rabe, per Gabriel's request."
A robed tech greeted me by a pristine white crate, heavy vapor—gas-liquid hybrid?—billowing out.
"Alright, let's get you fitted."
Team swarmed, transferring me through complex steps. Unlike Hermann's install—more pro, somehow. Corp medics, naturally top-tier.
"This enhances neural transmission…."
Face-down, blind to action. Felt something at my back, then—
"Ngh…."
Twitch. Neural port tinkered with. Drill whir, click-clack of fine tools.
"Nano unit for gradual repair of damaged circuits. Installing."
Hands on back again. Click, slide.
"Ngh…."
Pure cyberpunk anime implant scene.