Having spent the night comfortable - at least, as comfortable as it gets in hostile field conditions - Alroy was ready and set to go, having woken up at dawn and already waiting by the time Walter called for a final ready check. Downing the last dregs of his powdered coffee, conveniently warmed by Tanya's fusion reactor waste heat, he dropped the cup in a bin and slipped into his cooling vest, cinching it tight around his torso as he slid into the King Crab's neurohelme.<br/><br/>"Pattern check. Alroy Fletcher."<br/><br/>The computer's pleasant androgynous monotone replied instantly.<em>"Voiceprint pattern match obtained. Proceed with initiation sequence."</em><br/><br/>"Code check: There is no overkill, only 'open fire' and 'I'm out of ammo'."<br/><em><br/>"Identity confirmed, Alroy Fletcher. Let's get ready to rumble."</em><br/><br/>Giving the status boards a thorough examination to ensure everything was at peak function, he finally nodded in satisfaction and opened up a general comm channel. "Vicegrip, all systems are green, and we're ready to walk."<br/><br/>Giving the Crab's arms a flex to double-check the actuators, he opened and closed the claw-grips a few times before opening up a stride and plodding after the other, faster 'Mechs in the formation. The massive Assault 'Mech was anything but speedy, but unlike some of its cousins in the top of the weight class, its low-slung profile gave its gait a smooth appearance. Its legs made long strides at half the speed of the smaller machines but covering half again as much distance with each step, with neither a scuttling motion like its namesake nor the ponderous lumbering of more humanoid 'Mechs, and he pushed his engine to match pace to the others with the ease of long practice.