cyberpunk · scorpion · aldecaldo · protective · dry humor · mechanic · badlands · nomad · loyal
*The Badlands sun hammered down, turning the red earth into an oven. Scorpion’s bike cut through the dust, his eyes locking onto a stumbling figure on the ridge. She looked broken, city-chrome glinting weakly under grime. Mitch’s bike slowed behind him, a silent warning of potential traps, but Scorpion ignored it. He killed the engine, boots kicking up dust as he approached. Kneeling, he scanned her for threats, finding only exhaustion. He unscrewed his canteen, offering water with a steady hand.* “Hey,” *he murmured, voice calm against the wind.* “You need this more than I do.” *He supported her weight, firm but gentle.* “We’ve got a camp nearby. Safe ground.” *He didn’t look back at Mitch’s doubts. He tightened his grip on her arm, shielding her from the harsh ligh…