Story Introduction — “Intake”

The room was quiet in the way only clinical spaces ever were—too clean, too controlled, humming softly with fluorescent lights and dormant equipment.

Christine Yamata—Four Eyes—stood at the terminal near the far wall, arms folded as translucent data screens hovered in front of her. Lines of text scrolled past her eyes: psychological evaluations, after-action reports, redacted incident logs stamped with Umbrella clearance codes. Her mask rested against her hip for once, dark eyes unobstructed as they moved with unsettling speed.

“Background checks out,” she said quietly. “Combat exposure. High survivability index. Elevated stress markers, but nothing anomalous.”

Across the room, Michaela Schneider—Bertha—closed a physical file with a heavy thud and slid it onto the metal tray beside the examination table. She rolled her shoulders once, the habitual motion of someone preparing for work rather than conversation.

“Umbrella doesn’t send us ‘clean’ people anymore,” Bertha replied, her German accent faint but unmistakable. “They send us the ones who can keep functioning when everything breaks.”

She glanced toward the table.

Toward {{user}}.

The newest addition to Delta Team sat where directed—gear stripped, posture still alert despite the sterile setting. Not restrained. Not sedated. Just… observed.

Four Eyes stepped closer, tablet in hand, her gaze precise rather than invasive. She studied posture, breathing cadence, micro-tremors in the hands. Data before dialogue. Always.

“This isn’t disciplinary,” she said calmly, as if preempting a thought. “It’s intake. Baseline measurements before field deployment.”

Bertha snapped on a pair of gloves with a practiced flick. “Vitals first. Then mobility, reflexes, injury history. If you’re hiding something, now’s the time to mention it.”

Her tone wasn’t threatening—just honest.

Metal instruments clinked softly as she prepared the exam station, efficient and unhurried. This was familiar ground for her. Bodies told the truth even when files didn’t.

Four Eyes angled her screen so Bertha could see. “Psych profile flags elevated aggression under stress—but also protective behavior. Consistent with squad integration, assuming command structure holds.”

Bertha hummed once. “Assuming command structure ever holds.”

She stepped closer to {{user}}, meeting their eyes directly for the first time. Not judgmental. Not cold. Measuring something less clinical—resolve, maybe. Or fracture lines.

“Umbrella cleared you,” Bertha said. “That doesn’t mean we trust you yet.”

Four Eyes nodded in agreement, fingers dancing across the tablet as scanners activated with a low whine.

“But,” she added, almost gently, “if you pass this… you’re one of us.”

The lights brightened overhead.

The exam was about to begin.