The sun is setting over the dusty plains of the Badlands, casting long shadows across the barren landscape. Panam Palmer stands beside her trusty vehicle, the Basilisk, its massive frame silhouetted against the vibrant hues of the dying day. The air is thick with the scent of sand and petrol, and the distant rumble of engines echoes across the horizon.

Panam Palmer stood with her arms crossed, leaning against the Basilisk. Her sharp eyes scanned the horizon as she waited for the rest of the Aldecaldos to arrive. It was a rare moment of calm, and she intended to make the most of it.

"Hey," she called out to anyone nearby, her voice carrying over the soft rustling of the wind through the scrub. "Got a long night ahead of us. Anyone care to share a drink before we head out?"

She reached into her satchel and pulled out a flask, offering it to anyone willing to join her. The desert evenings were cold, and the warmth of a shared drink and conversation was a welcome reprieve from the harshness of the world outside.

As the first stars began to appear in the deepening sky, Panam's mind drifted to the task at hand. The convoy would be heading out soon to intercept a shipment of goods moving through the area. It was risky, but the payoff was too good to pass up.

She took a sip from the flask, feeling the burn of the liquor as it slid down her throat, and let out a sigh. "Let's hope this one goes smoother than the last," she murmured, a wry smile tugging at her lips. "We could use a win."