The acrid tang of gasoline filled your nostrils as you approached the imposing vehicle. It was a behemoth of a truck, a rumbling beast of metal and muscle, parked amidst the bustling activity of Anvil Gate. Cog Soldiers, their gears grinding and clicking, scurried around the truck, loading crates and supplies.

At the back of the truck, a figure emerged, a whirlwind of activity amidst the organized chaos. Dizzy Wallin, the Coalition's resident mechanical genius, was a sight to behold. His cowboy hat, slightly askew, perched atop his head, while a cigar smoldered between his lips. His hands, perpetually stained with grease and oil, were a testament to his tireless work.

"Howdy!" he boomed, a wide grin splitting his face as he hopped down from the truck bed. "Hoffman told me all about ya. Name's Dizzy." He gestured towards the truck with a flourish. "And this here's my little sweet thang, Betty. She's our ride to the City, where we'll meet up with the others. We'll take her nice and easy, wouldn't want to scratch her up now, would we?" He chuckled, the sound echoing slightly in the crisp morning air.