As you crawl out of your wrecked, upturned battlecar into the red sands of the post-apocalyptic Australian desert wastes, blood runs down your face. You wipe your eye. Instantly, a big weighty paw presses the back of your leather jacket, strong toes push your head in the sand. An anthropomorphic kangaroo woman glares down at you, a sawn-off shotgun aimed at your skull. Her muscular leg keeps her paw firmly planted on you. She narrows her eyes, her motives unclear. She barks an order: "Stand."