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Shura gazes at his brother. Two slavers who still remain faithful, brought and presented the body. Achu lies on the sofa from where he enjoyed his old films, now with his eyes forever sealed shut, his left one shattered. If you ignore the wound, he almost looks asleep.

Shura's legs give out, unable to stand, he plants his knees. She takes that limp hand, kisses it, sticks her forehead in it, and weeping, begs forgiveness for her weaknesses as a woman, for her failings as a sister, and for never telling him face to face how much she loved him. Will she have to slave alone in the wilderness from now on? Maybe not...

"Shura..."

A hoarse voice with no echo of obeisance startles him from behind. With spasms, Shura turns his face, and discovers the human scrap with posters dangling. But this time El Poste's eyes don't move tremblingly between the line of madness and being, on the contrary, they seem competent and possessive of initiative. Shura senses that he is no longer El Poste, deranged by years of humiliation, but the man who gave him life and whom Achú overthrew in revenge for the mistreatment and mockery of his childhood.

The man, after learning of Achú's death, rather than rejoicing, regained a lost courage. Revitalised, he managed to understand that everything that had happened was partly his responsibility, a symptom of the mistake he had made in failing with his children, from the moment he assumed that a hard and cruel hand would make them strong enough to survive this stormy world. It pained her to know that with Achu she would never stand a chance of redemption again, but there was still a light in the form of Shura. It could help her, it could reveal to her that there is more to life than the horror of chains. Cloaked in such determination, he approaches Shura and wraps her in an embrace.

"I know I made a thousand mistakes with you, and your brother.... But now, in this time of need, I want you to know that I am here for you, to be with you, and to help you, and to bring you to your senses. Because I know, my daughter, that anger and pain are choking you. But before I let anger take over and condemn you to a fate of more loss and blood, I want you to know that just because you come from a rotten man, who instilled violence and domination as the only way to live, does not mean that you are incapable of change, let alone turning away from this suffering wasteland. Shura, my wish is that, instead of seeking revenge, you will find happiness"

The old man's words stem the flood of tears as the woman gently pulls away to look up into the man's face, pale and dumbfounded, her expression soon evoking red and gritting her teeth.

"Shura...?"

...

El Poste is bound hand and foot, blaster-style, in a caravan truck. The swarm is made up of spiked cars, tuned motorbikes, powerful tanks, and motorised artillery. The hundred or so assembled slavers roar for war and blood. They attack any of the stragglers who try to flee or who deny the conflict, be they slaves or chain gangs, it doesn't matter.

In what is left of the workshop, cadeneros use the surviving resources to recharge the missile battery and the GAU-8 Avengers. Shura, wearing the Achu mask, climbs the ladder of the burnt and twisted duct, and steps into the cockpit of the Crocodile. He flips the switches on the back of the chair, and takes his place. He doesn't need the shackles, that beast was built for them, and if the tests under the burned man's supervision confirmed anything, it's that his mind and will is even stronger than that of his beloved brother. After sliding the transparent visor of the helmet up, putting it on (it is designed to fit perfectly with the mask), and counting to 30, the connection is made, and his world becomes that of the Crocodile.

Shura speaks. His voice and instructions are transmitted by powerful surround amplifiers. The slavers free the Crocodile from the drag chains and, with the job done, flee to the ramparts. Shura pushes his tons forward, the caterpillars on his feet reacting and pulverising everything in their path. His wingspan finishes crumbling the remains of the wall as he crosses to the outside.

The face of the man who broke his nose flashes in his mind. She recalls the testimony of those who brought his brother: Achu, killed during the search for a mysterious tribal, the same indigenous woman he saw escaping in a jeep with the Lancasterian. Shura's fury reaches its zenith, and ignites his back. Rockets spew fire and smoke, lift caterpillars from the ground, and spread an incinerating carpet across the settlement.

The dome is transformed into a torch, the buildings into fathoms, the stragglers into ashes, and the remains of Achu into stardust. The Crocodile rises 20 metres above the inferno. The woman piloting it honours her brother, bids farewell to the past, and adopts a new name that brings together the strength of the two. She vows to herself, to turn away from the vanities and dullness that shackled her old self.

"My name is Ashura!" The Crocodile roars with her. From the caravan all look up with a mixture of reverence and awe. "To all the glorious bastards who listen and support me, I have but one demand in exchange for a prosperous future! Bring me the head of Chester Lancaster!"

For the first and last time, there is thunder in the dome, and instead of coming from a hurricane with a woman's name, it comes from a woman with the mercy of a storm. The Crocodile lands, generating a small earthquake. The carava follows... But it takes off the nitro so as not to overtake it.