The sky was surprisingly clear overhead as Slag's eyes flicked open. The pain gone now, his body feeling cold and numb as he lay in the broken heap beside the highway, his buggy long since burnt out nearby. He wondered how long he'd been there, how long since the dust storm had ripped into the convoy with the raiders hiding inside. After a while it didn't seemed to matter anymore, and with one final gasp Slag breathed his last.
"Shiny and chrome, shiny and..." he whispered, before his eyes fluttered closed forever.
Further away other scattered hulks and broken bodies lay spread across the Wasteland, the tattered remnants of the ambush with raiders and victims mixed together haphazardly amongst the corpses and wreckage. Far too many victims and nowhere near enough raiders to have made a difference. Only a few of the defenders had managed to survive, and with their Organic Mechanic and Blackfinger making their way through the aftermath, patching and splinting what they could while taking account for the losses with heavyy hanging heads.
Between them only a few of the convoys vehicles remained, all the heavier ones either escaped in the chaos of the duster or destroyed by the unknown attackers. Of the raiders there was little sign, the few buggies remaining just as worthless now as their victims' wreck and the bodies burnt to a crisp where they lay. Nothing remained to be salvaged and what few supplies the survivors had wouldn't last for long.
