From the western horizon, a massive buggy made its way through the vast expanse of the empty wasteland, flanked by two motorcycles. The men making up the group wore pieces of armor made from scraps of metal and a unique type of carbon lining, which gave them an appearance of protection against projectiles and heat.

Perched on top of the buggy, a strong figure near a large machine gun, prepared to unleash a burst of fire. It was a huge magnetic cannon that employed magnetism to propel a swift discharge of small metallic projectiles. Since gasoline was truly scarce and technology was advanced enough, nearly all vehicles or weapons operated on raw electricity.

Next to the driver, the man in the passenger seat cast a watchful glance at a portable monitor. The frequency of its beeps intensified as they progressed.

"Boss, they're likely there, on the hill," he announced.

"We've been chasing them for days. They won't have enough energy," interjected the driver, his voice tinged with skepticism.

As the vehicle roared forward, the man with the small monitor checked the panel in front of him, with detailed statistics of the buggy.

"Boss, we're almost out of energy, and only Jano's bike has a full battery."

"First we exterminate the scum, then we rest," declared the boss, determination marking lines on his face.

The party continued their journey towards the imposing rock formation. As they approached, the portable monitor emitted erratic signals, its beeps turning frantic in the proximity of the shadow cast by the rock column.

Once close, they stopped their vehicles. The three men from the buggy disembarked, joining their counterparts who arrived on the two motorcycles.

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"They're just Low-Tech scum," spat the boss as he stretched his large body. "But they probably have some kind of projectile weapons. No lasers or plasma."

One of the men expressed concern.

"Boss, only you have decent armor. What if they hit us?"

A malicious smile spread across the boss's face, tinged with sadistic resolve.

"If they hit you, you'd better die. I'm not going to waste my time dragging your injured ass back to the city."

The individual with the portable monitor pressed a button, silencing the constant beep.

"The signal ends here," announced the man with the monitor, pointing towards the entrance. "They'll be hiding in the shadow. If we take their aero-car, the one they stole from Molyn, they won't escape."

"Good idea. Three men with me. Jano, your job is to block their escape route. Climb and follow the trail. We'll be the ones on the ground," ordered the boss.

"What? I don't want to be under the damn sun. I want..."

"You'll do what I tell you," retorted the boss, a sly smile forming as he showed a small flask. "Perform well, and maybe I'll reward you with some Powerjuice."

The group approached their vehicles, retrieving their chosen weapons. The boss armed himself with a single-projectile grenade launcher and a holster containing five grenades filled with a glowing green liquid.

The rest selected simpler weapons: pipe rifles that used energy to spin a metal cord, leveraging torsional power to propel large nails, and powered by basic energy batteries that recharged with the sun and heat.

"For the job, each of you will receive a hundred units," announced the boss. "Fifty for the father, twenty for the boy."

The men exchanged looks, their eyes shining with a mix of anticipation and greed. They understood the importance of their mission: to recover what was stolen from Lord Mortis, one of the greatest warlords of the Far West.

Normally, murdering someone meant you were going to be paid only five units, but the high price for these seemed like easy money. They could buy something to alleviate the effects of the Withering, but they would use their units to buy the adrenaline rush of the Powerjuice, not the safety of a healthy life.

Before delving into the breach of the rock formation, they cast one last glance at Excalibur. The huge tower could be seen from almost anywhere in the Wasteland. It was a reminder of the power of the Dust Knights.