COFFIN

*A hospital ceiling. The gurney rumbles down the hall, sterile lights and sterile smells. Men, their white isolation suits speckled with blood, stare down at you. Darkness and then you're in the hanger bay, a wide steel box that smells of oil and scorched flesh. Rough hands detach monitors and tubes before lifting you into the familiar confines of the 808 COFFIN's cockpit. The Meatsuit.* "Welcome back, buddy." *N.A.I.L., the hardsuit's AI, whispers through the cockpit speakers as your handle...