Adam stepped into the cockpit of All Nerves, others had already brought their NCs online despite his brisk pace. He looked down to the floor of his NC's bay, the black case resting on the ground, ready to be picked up. He turned to the darkness of his NC's cockpit and wordlessly entered, the internal lights responding to his arrival by casting their light over the spartan cockpit. There was no doubt what this NC would demand. He sat in the cramped seat as the cockpit re-sealed with the hiss of pressurization and reached back, wrapping his hands around a single thick cable. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly.

Adam pressed the Link to the contact at the base of his skull and [b]felt[/b] the connection. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind. In the silence of his cockpit he relaxed, his limbs going slack even as the pilot harness closed around him.

[color=8F8F8F][center][i]NEURAL COMBATANT PILOT INTERFACE v1.7.36[/i]

[i]Pre-Sortie Check:

Physical Link:[/i]				[i]Neural Link:[/i]
[color=lime]CONFIRMED[/color]				[color=lime]CONFIRMED[/color]

[i]Sync Rate:[/i]				[i]Structural Integrity:[/i]				[i]Reactor Output:[/i]
[color=lime]100%[/color]					[color=lime]100%[/color]						[color=lime]100%[/color]

[i]NavSat Link:[/i]				[i]Location Data[/i]
[color=red]LOST[/color]					[color=yellow]Map File Found[/color]

[i]Connecting...[/i][/center][/color]

Adam barely noticed the change in his senses, his body denied it's natural connection to his brain as All Nerves took control of everything it touched. It was like ice in his head, an unnatural calm and clarity infusing him. He felt memories bubble to the surface, only to be whisked away. He opened his eyes, and saw the catwalk finish retracting. He reached down and felt his hands touch the floor, the case. He felt along the package for the handles and, grasping his cargo, stood in his bay.

"[color=D1A060]NC All Nerves, leaving the hangar.[/color]"
Before his voice even finished echoing through the hangar, the NC was marching out of it's bay and down the line painted on the floor. All Nerves's footsteps beat a war-drum's steady rhythm upon the floor of the hangar, a machine of war calling it's brothers and sisters to their purpose.