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[right][hr][color=white][b][b]Smith's Rest | HQ Tram Station[/b][/b][/color]
January 16th, 2677[hr][/right]

[color=556B2F][i]I suppose it’s not very different from places like Blackstone Harbor or Dead Springs. A place that has survived on the skin of its teeth and only one or two NC pilots for the last few decades.[/i] [/color] 

Graham’s voice seemed to echo around in his head in his mind, and he realized why the man had used both those specific examples. The girl who’d spoken up, Ryn, was someone he knew all too well. He’d already been worried of her walking over and punching him in the face on the tram; but he’d survived unscathed so far. But Blackstone; that was where Ryn was from. She’d talked about it from time to time during missions. Never really [i]opening up[/i], but simple information like that was simply candidly handed off when he’d talked about his own home. 

Dead Springs was an example of a town’s plans gone awry. He’d only been 15 when he’d tested for neural compatibility, and they’d thrown together a group of NCs ready to work for the town by protecting it and doing jobs for it not too long afterwards. It’s how he’d gotten the Wolf; which at the time was barely scraped together with scrap and maintenance parts. It’d taken missions, a lot of learning and his own grit to make his NC an actual fighting machine, but they’d become reliable in no time. 

Reliable enough that Dead Springs wanted to go indie. And that was enough to get the attention of [i]raiders[/i]. Thing was, Alan had fought his fair share of raiders, and raiders didn’t pilot shiny new corporate mechs, nor did they fight with military-led precision, backed by some bastard in a shiny gold machine. 

[color=gray]”Let’s hope we’re not trying to be like those places. With the pilots you’ve gathered up here, I'd expect you want us to go bigger, stronger. No chance of getting wiped off the map.”[/color]