In an isolated green-black wilderness
In the large patches of black swamp and plains, there was a single little inn standing alone in the center. The grey-white building looked just like a wooden toy house used for children's games, in that it did not look steady at all.
Clint was sprawled on a pitch-black, broken-down Mech, holding something like a tweezer tool. He even had a few oily screws in his mouth, and was repairing his own Mech cockpit with an expression of intense concentration.
"Third screw on the left, tighten it again, and be careful of the energy circuits there, if you knock them askew, you'll have to start all over again."
Red Moon's instructions kept coming, guiding Clint to quickly settle some of the minor problems the Mech had.
Amidst the clinking noises, Clint spat out the things in his mouth.
"Lord Red Moon, can this thing even be fixed? I've been working for a few days now, but it's still exactly the same."
