The heated desert air is boiling as footprints in the sand lead to a brown and silver old car. Two men who look around the same, black clothing and bald heads, lay on the ground, one of them propped against the wheel of the automobile. The car is started up, claw scars mark the brim of the car, the handle to the door has been ripped off and thrown away at least 10 meters. A ruffling sound comes from inside the station, where a woman in her early twenties messes through white and grey papers with long paragraphs on them. The woman has black, long, and straight hair, she wears a black jacket that is tied to her waist, a grey shirt that is ripped apart in the lower sections, a wound in her stomach that is dripping blood, but, healing rapidly. She is wearing black skinny jeans and grey sneakers with scribbled flowers on the back of them. "..."