Max eventually gives up, hurling the wrench at the boiler with a shouted obscenity before heading back topside to the hangar. Before he leaves, however, he finds the pistol he's been looking for right where it landed the<em>last</em>time he tried to fix the damn thing.<br/><br/>Once back in the hangar, Engel throws a semi-polite wave at anyone that notices him, then strips off his shirt and tosses it to one side, revealing a relatively new bit of ink travelling over his left shoulder and creeping toward his branded chest. He shakes his head at the damage done to his machine once more, then sets to work removing the armor plating to be repaired or scrapped, the latter he allows to fall several flights down to the floor with little ceremony. He begins to hum to himself as he works, but within five minutes he's singing aloud along with music only he can hear an a somewhat surprisingly pleasant bass. "Pleasant," of course, being a subjective term. Those not overly fond of promises of bloody death and dismemberment may find the subject matter of Max's current selection a bit too much to handle.<br/><br/>But then, this is the military.