Blood on the Asphalt biker
"We hit them hard, we hit them fast, and we pull the survivors out of that tin can!"
We crested a steep ridge of glowing blue moss.
Below us lay a massive, smoking crater of uprooted trees. In the center sat the Dreadnought-Crawler. It was a behemoth of steel, but it looked like a toy that had been chewed on by a dog. The heavy ballistic turrets were ripped from their mounts. The thick armor plating was peeled back like tin foil.
And swarming over the hull were dozens of the mutated Origin-Wolves.
Up close, they were terrifying. They didn't just bite; when their jaws snapped, localized bursts of kinetic force exploded, denting the Crawler's armor. They were trying to pry open the main cargo