The air in the room seemed to solidify, broken only by the low hum of the ventilation system. Dr. Dane's question had cut like a scalpel, slicing straight through Neo's fragile disguise. He knew—clinging to the lie of being a "lucky drifter" would only tighten suspicion, and suspicion here meant interrogation, confinement… perhaps worse.
He had to reveal value—but without exposing too much.
Neo drew a deep breath, burying the ache in his ribs, steadying the turmoil in his mind. He raised his head, locking eyes with Dr. Dane's searching gaze, then flicked briefly toward Falcon standing at the door, statuesque and silent.
When he spoke again, his tone had changed. No longer weak, no longer wavering. His words carried a calm sharpness that felt too old for his borrowed body.
"Dr. Dane," his voice was still hoarse, but steady, "you're right. An ordinary scavenger could never have reactivated the Hermann Circuit."
Dr. Dane's eyes flashed—confirmation. Falcon's arms shifted slightly across her chest, a subtle tightening, as if a wire had been plucked.
"I did not mean to deceive," Neo continued, carefully pacing his words. "But my past… is not ordinary. Yes, I wandered the wastelands. But before that, I studied under a teacher."
"A teacher?" Dr. Dane leaned forward.
"A quiet old man," Neo said, weaving his half-truths with precision. "He rarely spoke of his past. He lived in an abandoned bunker, far from settlements. It was there he taught me to recognize symbols of the Old Era, to decipher broken schematics, to name things that sound like legends—'Hermann Circuit,' 'Tesla Drive Bridge,' and more."
He softened his expression, letting a thread of nostalgia and wariness bleed through. "He told me such knowledge was a fire to be guarded, precious yet dangerous. To show it recklessly was to invite death."
Neo lowered his gaze briefly.. "He died. The bunker collapsed in a quake. Everything vanished with him. I alone survived. I cannot prove he existed. All I can prove… is what he taught me."
Silence followed. Neo let it hang. He had thrown out bait: a story that explained his skill without touching the truth of his otherworldly origins. A "dead mentor" no one could verify, but whose shadow justified his knowledge. Enough to show value, but not so much as to give away everything.
Dr. Dane tapped the table softly, glasses reflecting faint light. His expression flickered between skepticism and calculation. An old hermit with ancient knowledge? Rare, improbable—but not impossible. In the wasteland, anomalies survived.
"A teacher…" Dane mused. "That would explain much. Tell me—what exactly did he teach you? Beyond mech failsafes. Did he cover energy systems, materials engineering, communications?"
The shift of questions sent a ripple through Neo. This was good. Interest meant value. Value meant survival.
"Some basics of energy and materials," Neo answered carefully. "But little hands-on experience. As for communications… he mentioned theories of signal decay, interference shielding. But I lack the practical skill to build equipment."
Enough to intrigue, not enough to overpromise.
Before Dr. Dane could press further, Falcon finally spoke. Her electronic-filtered voice cut across the room like a blade:
"Doctor. That's enough for now. His physical condition requires observation. More detailed questioning can wait—after medical stabilization. And after security clearance."
Dr. Dane blinked, then nodded. "You're right, Captain Falcon. I let curiosity get the better of me." He adjusted his glasses and gave Neo a warm smile once more.
"Young man, you're fortunate. And valuable. We'll transfer you to medical for a full examination, then provide temporary housing. Understand—it's procedure. For the base's safety."
Neo inclined his head. "I understand. Thank you."
It wasn't safety. Not yet. But it was better than being an immediate threat. Now, he was under controlled observation. A different cage—but a cage he might turn to his advantage.
Falcon gestured to the assistant. "Escort him to medical."
Neo rose slowly. As he passed Falcon at the door, he felt the weight of her gaze linger. Cold. Assessing. Yet beneath it, something else—a searching curiosity, as though she were trying to peel away his skin to see the truth beneath.