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And the malevolent eye in the heavens remained unblinking, beating down with sweltering force. The crash into the dune brought an unwelcome stupor, leaving Zer nearly oblivious of his surroundings. Wet. He can feel something moist. What is that? Awareness slowly seeped in and the functionality (partially) returned to his extremities. His digits moved an inch, gracing the fabric of his clothes and felt the wetness. Closed eyelids obstructing his vision slowly lifted and revealed the splatter of crimson encompassing his torso. The trepidation set in instantly as he shot up to full awareness, hyperventilating some. Every breath was like breathing glass shards instead of air. Zer frantically checked himself for any entry wounds, sighing in both relief and confusion when he found nothing.

[color=f26522][i]But where'd- oh[/i][/color]

His eyes fell upon the raider sprawled on his buggy, ghostly pale and with one hand firmly grasping the steering wheel; yanked to the left. The causer of the crash. He was [i]worth[/i] putting the last 3 bullets into. [color=f26522]"Suck on that...you..fucker..".[/color] He shifted to move and the transfixing pain shocked his entire being. Nope. Not ready to move yet. Another attempt, turning his head to examine the battlefield. The corpses of vehicles and man alike dotted the grounds, wafting stygian smoke like factory plumes. Zer knew the raiders would've picked [i]everything[/i] clean, and that the chance of survivors was slim. Still, there could be something amidst the husk of twisted steel and the sand ravaged bodies. 

The series of events that led to this unfortunate situation weren't unusual, hell, if anything this was routine out here. Granted, being on the receiving end didn't feel too great but at least he was alive. Of course, alive doesn't mean too much if you're out of food, water, and guzzoline. Speaking of, lifting the seat of the opposite..well seat, he found that his meager stash of emergency supplies was untouched. Enough food and water for 3 days(4 if he rationed and 5 if he went to extremes) and a canteen of guzzoline barely amounting to a quarter tank. To make matters worse, he was completely out of ammo.

[color=f26522]Fuckin' hell, I'm buggered ou-[/color]

The telltale spurts of an engine broke the somewhat surreal silence, meaning that at least [i]someone[/i] survived. Zer tried the door. Jammed shut. [color=f26522]"Fuckin fuck..".[/color] He began, pulling himself up through the roof.[color=f26522]"This is exactly why I don't do convoys..Exactly fuckin why!".[/color] Zer slid from the top, landing with a wobbly stature. He'd been in enough crashes that the feeling of vertigo was nothing new, and was over quickly. He began to inspect his vehicle for any serious damage, and found nothing too serious, though getting it out the sand would be a pain. 

[color=ed1c24][i]"Oi, mate! You still in one piece?"[/i]
[/color]

That was...Calvin? Killian? He'd learn the name. He wasn't really addressing him though.[color=f26522]"The fuck are ya talkin- oh".[/color] Looking pass his dreadlocked companion, he spotted Sawbones, the questionable organic mechanic with questionable medical practices that made you question things. [color=f26522]"That's 2..thought we had more..well [i]had[/i] is the keyword there, eh?"[/color]