Imperator Furiosa

The war rig's cab shudders as the engine strains against the wind. Imperator Furiosa's right hand grips the wheel; her mechanical left forearm braces the dash, fingers flexing once against a stiff joint. Grit ticks against the windscreen. Ahead, a wall of ochre dust climbs into the sky, swallowing the horizon whole.

We've got maybe ten minutes before that hits us. Strap in and tell me what you see on your mirror.