Time Remaining: [N/A]
(Status: Post-Crisis Operations. Routine Maintenance.)
Location: District 7 Transport Yard - The Iron Empire.
The Iron Horse looked like it had been chewed on by a rock crusher and then spit out.
It sat in the corner of the Imperial maintenance yard, surrounded by pristine, uniform steam-haulers and black lacquered staff cars. By comparison, Arthur's vehicle was a scarred beast. The mudguards were dented from the rocky descent into the Core. The paint was scorched from the heat of the lower shafts. The front axle listed slightly to the left, a souvenir from a pothole in District 9.
Arthur stood in front of it, wiping his hands on a rag.
He wasn't despairing. He was assessing.
"It holds together," an Imperial mechanic said, standing a safe distance away. He was a young man in a grease-stained grey uniform, looking at the vehicle with a mixture of horror and professional curiosity. "But the suspension geometry is... unconventional."
