Through the cracked rearview mirror, Panam Palmer could see them—five heavily modified off-roaders creeping closer across the dunes, their engines growling like hyenas stalking prey.
Her jaw clenched. "Motherfuckers," she spat, slamming a fist against the steering wheel. "You just had to pull this kind of gutter-trash stunt, huh? Pathetic."
Panam was no stranger to the Badlands. Out here, everyone had blood on their hands—but this kind of open, shameless ambush? That was filth even by desert standards.
Her fingers brushed against the pistol holstered beside her seat.
Fine.
If they wanted to play dirty, she'd make it hurt.
The wind howled through broken glass and rusted steel as her Thorton Caliburn sped down the cracked highway. The pack behind her began to accelerate, headlights flashing like predators' eyes.
A male voice crackled over a megaphone from one of the off-roaders. His face was a patchwork of chrome and scars—pure scav-style.
"Panam Palmer," he drawled. "Yeah, I know you. Used to run with Aldecaldos. One of Saul's little prodigies, right?"
Panam yanked her window down, voice cutting through the wind like a whip. "Bullshit! You know who's Saul's dog? You, your crew, and your chrome-plated grandma!"
Her words hit like gunfire, but the scav only laughed louder. "Guess I deserved that. My mistake—former Aldecaldo. Former Saul's girl. Out here alone now, huh? No clan, no backup. Running jobs solo on the dirt."
"Save your breath," Panam snapped, eyes fixed on the road. "You want my money, come take it. But shut the fuck up while you try."
The scav smirked, his tone dripping with mock pity. "Feisty. Tell you what—I'll make it simple. Hand over the prize money you stole at that race, and maybe… maybe we'll keep you alive. You could even ride with us."
His grin widened obscenely. "We take care of our girls. Like golden canaries in a cage—"
BANG!
Panam didn't let him finish. She drew, fired, and blew his skull open before he even saw her move.
The bullet punched through the glass and his head in the same breath. The scav slumped sideways, lifeless, blood splattering across his passenger.
"Idiot," Panam muttered coldly, yanking the wheel.
The driverless vehicle veered, colliding with the one beside it. Tires screeched, sand exploded, and chaos followed. The chain reaction sent two more off-roaders spinning off course.
Panam slammed the brakes, drifted into a dead town on the horizon—a skeleton city long abandoned to dust and silence.
Perfect.
She grabbed the rifle from the passenger seat, leapt out, and sprinted into the ruins.
The Badlands weren't just barren wasteland. Some parts were ghost cities—old suburbs gutted by time, rusted skeletons of homes and factories, their power grids long dead but walls still standing.
This was one of them.
Cracked streets lined with hollow houses. Faded murals. Street lamps like broken bones. It was quiet—too quiet—but that was her edge.
She vaulted over a fence, ducked behind a pile of collapsed masonry, and exhaled.
Panam wasn't scared. But she wasn't stupid either.
Alone, outnumbered, low on ammo—this was a death trap.
If they caught her, the best-case scenario was a quick bullet. Worst case… she didn't let herself think that far.
"Alright," she whispered, crouching low. "Come get me, assholes."
Behind her, engines died one by one.
The scavs spilled out—ten, maybe fifteen. All heavily armed. Their laughter echoed off the empty buildings.
"Kill her!" one snarled.
"She shot Vex! That bitch dies screaming!"
"Block every exit! Nobody leaves this dump alive!"
Within minutes, they'd surrounded the hollow city, sealing every road and alley with vehicles and rifles.
Panam, perched on the second floor of a decaying building, adjusted her rifle's scope. Her heartbeat slowed, her breathing even.
One shot. Make it count.
But she hesitated.
Every scav out there knew the terrain as well as she did. Every vantage point she could think of—they could, too.
They'd find her eventually.
"Shit…" she muttered. "Think, Panam. Think—"
And then—
A shadow moved behind her.
Silent. Swift. Unannounced.
Before she could spin around, a voice—calm, deep, and far too close—cut through the tension.
"Nice shot earlier," it said. "You always open conversations with headshots, or was that a special offer?"
Panam whipped around, gun raised—only to freeze.
Neo stood there, half cloaked by the dying light filtering through the broken ceiling. The Rayfield was parked outside, humming quietly like a beast waiting to be unleashed.
Panam's pulse spiked. "What the hell—how did you—?!"
"Observation," he replied simply. "And a little intuition."
His eyes—sharp, unblinking—swept the horizon. "Twenty hostiles. Five vehicles. Two with mounted launchers. They think they've boxed you in."
Panam exhaled sharply, half in relief, half in disbelief. "You read all that from—what—thin air?"
Neo's lips curved faintly. "Something like that."
He crouched beside her, eyes scanning the street below. "You hold this spot, you die. Move, you die faster."
"Yeah, thanks for the optimism."
"Not optimism," he said. "Facts."
Down below, the scavs were regrouping, shouting orders, spreading through the ruined blocks like ants.
Neo stood, cracking his knuckles. "Stay put."
"Wait—what are you doing?"
He stepped forward, dropping off the ledge like a ghost into the street below.
Panam's breath caught. "You've got to be kidding me…"
Outside, the first scav caught sight of movement—too late.
A blur cut through the dust.
And then came the sound.
BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.
Each punch landed like an explosion. Each strike folded armor, crushed bone, or sent bodies flying into walls.
Within seconds, the quiet streets were filled with screams, shattering glass, and the unmistakable crunch of metal against flesh.
From her perch above, Panam could only stare.
One man.
No gun.
Twenty hostiles.
And yet—none of them stood a chance.
When the dust finally settled, Neo stood amid the wreckage, the desert wind pulling at his coat.
Panam stepped out from the ruins, gun still raised—but her voice was softer now. "You could've just let me handle it."
He glanced back at her, smirking. "Looked like you had it handled."
She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, sure. You always crash people's parties this way?"
"Only when they're about to die."
Panam snorted. "You're an ass."
Neo turned, the faintest ghost of a grin touching his face. "So I've been told."