The north of England, one of the cornerstones of industry in the mechanical age. And indeed our story is set in the heart of an industrial town, Manchester.
A city where hard, impoverished workers and business tycoons lived within a few short minutes of one another. It was a smelting pot of culture, close to boiling over, a workers uprising was brewing…
Oblivious to this fact and walking down the unpaved slum which formed part of the journey to his home was a young rabbit by the name of Spitfire. Spitfire was the owner of a local metal foundry, and by the by, was not a pleasant fur to be around, he was cold, heartless, and treated his workers like slaves.
He stood tall, at 6 feet 2 inches excluding his long ears, and had light brown fur which was ingrained with soot, and the smell of stale tobacco smoke from constantly smoking a cigar, and had badly discoloured and crooked teeth, which poked out in the usual rabbit fashion. He was always dressed immaculately, at the height of late Victorian fashion, black three piece suits and leather gloves, accompanied by a stovepipe hat.
As he walked down the street, seemingly unaware of the foul smog from the factories, he swung a black cane, which had a large, heavy iron gear at the handle end for decoration. He veered off from his usual route, having some business to attend to in the septic tank most of his workers called home, he approached an unassuming door, checking the number, and hit the door quite firmly three times with the iron gear cane ornament.
