Hana Song should be dead.

Angela has seen many extraordinary feats of endurance in her career, and read of even more in her studies. The human body is capable of truly amazing effort when pressed. Titanic, even, with the right training and mental conditioning. This ability lies not in the body, but in discarding the mental inhibitions that keep it safe from destroying itself. It lies in the ability to push past the point the body demands rest, and then keep going, and going, potentially unto death from exhaustion, or internal bleeding caused by rupturing muscles, or broken bones - the hard limits, after which crossing no amount of mental fortitude can change a thing.

For example, a soldier and a civilian of the same body strength differ greatly in how much of said strength they can use, and for how long. A soldier will, if trained to standard, keep on going long after a civilian will have collapsed from sheer fatigue even though both their bodies are, physically, in the same condition. The difference is entirely in the mind.

There is no mental conditioning that would inure one to having their brain blown out.

But then, Hana Song isn't exactly human, is she?

"hey doc"
The… words, for the lack of time for any better way to describe it, pull Angela out from the deep places of her mind
"u k?"

Is she okay. What a question to be asked by someone who just had her skull shot through. A bubble of laughter lingers on her tongue at the absurdity of it all, only to be drowned out in bile. Is she okay? No. No she's not okay. She's not been okay ever since it first occurred to her something is off about Hana Song. She's certainly not been okay since she realised it should be immediately apparent to anyone with eyes and ears, and only a little less so to those without, that everything is off about Hana Song.

Nothing's been okay since the first time she forgot all about it.

Unable to get a word out through her closed-up throat, Angela nods instead. What else is there to do?

"xoxo
keep me up
imma need 2 recharge"

Keep her up? The girl can already survive wounds that Angela can't heal, what the hell more is she supposed to do? Defy the laws of reality?

Once again, however, all she can do is nod and switch on Cadeceus staff. It seems that is all the girl expects of her, as the next thing she knows, Hana leaps out of the cover with her pistol leveled at the omnics - who only seconds ago shot her through the head - dashing madly to and fro to avoid their bullets as much as she's able without ever missing a shot of her own. It's all Angela can do to follow and keep the stream of nanites connecting her staff and the pilot unbroken as she single-handedly dismantles one omnic after the next without as much as a flinch whenever a stray bullet pierces her gut or breast, each wound closing within seconds of blooming upon her body, leaving neither a trace of blood nor torn cloth.

She doesn't question it when a new mech falls from the empty sky to replace the one Hana has lost a minute prior. She can't. Not with the omnic bullets whizzing by her ear after the ones meant for her head embed themselves in Hana's instead. Not with the girl's joyous laughter at crushing the offenders under her machine rings in her mind like the church bells. And satisfaction. And accomplishment, and vice, and derision, and heartbeat, and singing, and dancing.

Angela follows the being calling itself Hana Song - The Korean MEKA pilot who has no business arriving on the battlefield from apparently nowhere, yet only having it seem strange after taking a shot meant for Angela. A shot that would kill anything alive, and barely sparing it a thought before jumping back into the fray.

She follows knowing full well none of this will seem out of place the moment a thought to tell as much as crosses her mind.