Mad Max: Death Road (fan fiction)

- OVERRIS – PENFLICK CHALLENGE # 3

I.

“loyalty is bought. either with power, or with fear. the rest is insignificant...”

“Rough times... They changed us in the wrong way. The people?! No... Mankind! Mankind, yes! We boastingly rejected hundreds of thousands of years’ worth of civilization. Advancement and life as we know it ceased to exist; we lost everything we held dear to our heart... For good, I tell ya'! Raw, simple and merciless we became. Our primal instincts surfaced across the world and took control over most people. Nobody was safe anymore... You always had to watch your back… Violence, anger, hatred, jealousy were an everyday sight. It became the true survival of the fittest. For the minority, that is. The weak are gathered and ruled over like lambs... What happened to us? What? I have no idea!? The once intelligent race now became a mere shadow of itself and the only difference that separates us from animals is the ability of speech… Now go, leave me alone! I have work to do...” – Max finally sealed the conversation off with one of his shadows. He often had to do this, to prevent himself from getting trapped in an endless loop. After regaining his consciousness, he quickly remembered what he was doing before he was rudely interrupted. He scouted the horizon for possible threats before heading for his temporary nightstand, and witnessed another marvelous sunset in the Wastelands. The last rays of the Sun were tinted with amber and rose as they slowly disappeared behind the horizon. Knowing these harsh circumstances, Max somehow always managed to find some peace to relax and gather his thoughts from time to time. Not many were capable of doing that. As he grabbed his belongings from his blanket (from the floor where he had a small pick-nick) he saw a thick black storm headed his way. He knew these were no joke, so he had no moment to spare. He jumped back into his car and was on the road again, just like he use to do, back in the good old days...

II.

Many years have passed since Max Rockatansky was a police officer. Sometimes he thought that his past life was in another world. As years increasingly passed faster, the lesser he was capable of remembering ever being in that one. It was not just the fault of getting old, but also due to his never ending nightmares, which slowly dissolved his mind: he became a mirage of himself; a split person. On rare occasions he would speak just like a normal human being, but other times he would rage and only use short phrases and jagged gestures. Sadly, Max was no longer in full control of his body and mind. He lived through horrible things; saw a great deal of bloodshed, violence, fear and lost way too many loved ones, he swore to protect. The fact that he could not keep his promises tipped him over the edge and made him insane. As his scars never fully healed, he remained delusional and ill-tempered. Strangely enough, somehow he recognized his sickness and false behavior. No one could really tell the reasons behind this, but because he understood his position, Max continuously tried to keep his distance from people to ever get in touch with them. Thus, he became a rouge road warrior; a man, who freely roamed these horrid lands as a lonely wolf. He was skilled enough to not to be messed around, yet surprisingly kindhearted and honest. This hermit of a man had had his own strange sets of rules which he firmly believed and lived by…

His vehicle was a heavily modified 1973, Ford Falcon XB GT Coupe. The chasse was mostly intact (apart from smaller bumps and scratches) and had a simple paintjob: matte black with rusted chrome bars underneath the sides; which was right beside some thick cover plates; which protected the car from landmines and such. The car’s suspensions where modified, both in the front (fortified and rose to hold a 20” tire) and the rear (same as the front, but with 25” off-road tires). The exhaust pipes where funneled underneath the passenger’s seat to exit on the sides; spilling hot flames every time he forcefully stepped on the gas paddle. The bonnet was cut in the middle, to hold the modified V8 engine (with a custom set of turbo charger, with a massive chrome intake); also had two extra nitro boosters attach to it. The trunk was heavily modified and turned into a mobile storage room, where Max kept his personal belongings and supplies, such as: weapons, armors, clothings, old relics, some old newspapers and books, and of course food and water. He managed to squeeze
an extra tank into the car; where the spare wheel would be. To round it off, he also put a neat spoiler in the back; which was really just an extension of the roof. The interior had an extra safety bar (in case of the car would flip on itself), some minor bits and bobs which Max gathered over the years; like a shiny plastic skull which he used as a gear nob.

Max on the other hand wore a mixture of clothing and looked like someone who took a bath in the sand. He had a thick scarf around his neck, which he could easily turn into a turban; alongside with a windproof motorcycle eyewear around his neck. Over the years, he slowly had to patch up his good ‘n old black leather jacket and trousers, which now resembled more the appearance of Frankenstein’s beast. His right sleeve was missing from a previous fight, so he cleverly covered it with bandages. On top of all, he wore a tactical west and a right shoulder protector; for better positioning his weapons, when aiming down sight. As one might have guessed: he was filled with all sorts of combat knifes, high caliber pistols, replacement ammo and several gadget from a survivor’s kit (e.g.: compass, ropes, etc.). In the end, all these junk in his pockets weighted him down quite a bit. And finally, there was his prized possession: a custom, shortened double-barreled shotgun on his back; for extra safety of course. It was also customized and bared the weathering of his misterious past.

III.

It was a clear and somewhat boring day. The Sun was as bright as it ever was and shone with pure power. As the ground constantly bounced back the rays, not many could stand bare foot, before they got third degree burnings. Mountains rose as far as the eye could see: it was somewhere near the long forgotten ridges of Colorado. There was no greenery or wildlife around anywhere close; just dust and sand. The further you peaked the more blurred your vision became as dunes climbed high above the horizon, almost erasing the border between land and sky.

This place belonged to no one; as in many believed in, just like the Tager’s. Fred, Emily and their infant Nicole where heading East. They gave up on waiting for something miraculous to happen and took control over their own life’s; by leaving their main camp, they took quite a dangerous route. However, luck was in their favor. They barely encountered anyone on their several weeks long trip and hardly had any issues; up until now. After a couple of days, right after their previous stop with a travelling merchant, they had their first major problem: their 1934 Ford 3 muscle car had a leaking radiator. It had to be fixed quickly so they stopped at a small valley. It was not a good omen to break down at this hour. Emily soon enough, stated her opinion:

– See? I told you! – she burst out in anger. – This was the same thing I was warning you about last time! We should've fixed this stupid car back at San Emanuel's! Why do you have to love this car so much? –
– Hey now! Now take it easy, honey! It's not that big of a deal! Let me have a look at it! All right? – as Fred pulled over Emily had a strange feeling:
– Make it quick, I don't like this place! Something is about to happen, I can feel it! –
– Nonsense! – Fred arrogantly waved, as he did not believe in such superstition. – It won’t take too long, I promise! – Fred gave Emily a calming look and gave a gently kiss to her. It cooled the misses down a bit, but she held Nicole ever closer to her chest. The little one did not notice anything as she just silently fed from her mother’s tit.

As Fred stepped out from their car and slowly closed the door, a slightly unpleasant cracking of metal squeak have left the car and echoed through the valley. He stopped for a second to realize his stupid mistake, but did not bother himself with it. He made a few steps in the hot dust and opened the cars bonnet. He princely knew where the damage was, because he participated that one of the corners will eventually break; judging by their condition. As so, he already made a plan on how to quickly fix this problem; as he was too lazy to repair it beforehand, and tried to postpone it as long as he could. To reassure his wife, he turned toward Emily and said:

– It's all right hon’, we have a minor leakage, nothing to worry about. Give me five minutes and we're back on track!
– Well... ok! – Emily replied worryingly, as she was not fully satisfied with their situation. Just in case she also continuously scouted their surroundings. After a couple of minutes, she saw a small reflection on top of a hill, just a tiny bit of flickering, not far ahead of them. All of a sudden she became extreme paranoid:
– Fred, we have to move. Now! – but even before she could let out another word out of her mouth, something terrible has happened. A stupendously large .905 caliber gunshot tore through the air and hit Fred right in the skull. His head immediately exploded and his insides scattered on the bonnet and partially on the windscreen. The bullet came from a camouflaged sniper, who was stationary in this region; and heard that loud noise from not long ago. Fred died instantly. Right after Emily cried out in pain and agony:

– FRED! Omygod! O' MY GOD! FRED! – she immediately went into panic mode and barely could control herself. She froze from the shock and was motionless for couple of seconds. The image what she saw earlier and the gore in front of her late husband burned into her mind. She did not knew what to do, but wanted to get out of the car as fast as she could. While she was still confused and was fiddling with the door, she failed to realize another threat, from the other side of the car. A war boy was already aiming with a handgun at her head. The person was playing with his stance, to get the perfect and most glamorous shot on his subject (and tried to fiercely concentrate whilst playing with his tongue) just before he finally pulled the trigger...

A second (older and more mature) warboy arrived, then smacked his partner on the head; while he was laughing and enjoying his own mediocre brilliance. He had a few words to spare:
– You fucking dipshit! What the fuck was that? Huh? Who the fuck told you to kill her? We're supposed to capture every cargo we can. INCLUDING WOMEN! – then he slapped the youngster (named Baurk) again; as he was still giggling at himself.
– All right, all right Scratches, I was just practicing! You know how long has it been since I fired a gun? Damn too long! You know... I wanted to shoot someone, so badly! You, know! – he looked at his partner, with eyes seeking for companionship.
– I'll shoot you all right! You dickhead! – the scolding made the somewhat half-witted Baurk feel a tad sad about himself; but his sorrow did not last long enough. Scratches than continued, right after he sign Joumo (the sniper) to regroup:
– Fuck it, man… Now I have to make up an excuse. Why am I the one who has to deal with this shit anyways? – he rambled a bit, but eventually got his spirit back: – At least we have something to bring back! Finaly! Get the dude, I’ll handle the bitch! – a long awaited wide smile appeared on his face while he spoke those words.

They simply pulled the bodies away from the car and leave them to rot. While they were doing their business, Baurk constantly interrupted Scratches with his idiotic blabbering. Thus they managed to miss the neatly tucked in infant within her mother’s grasps and left the tiny person behind. After the third warboy slowly arrived, they pulled their car up, hooked the old-timer, and set off into the distance.

Several hours passed by now. The Sun was slowly setting behind the cloudy horizon. A patrolling motorcycle, rode by a militia, spotted the bloody scene from a small hill with her telescope. She went straight down to check if she could salvage something from the bodies. For her big surprise, she found a little girl, unharmed. The rider was amazed how this little person could survive thus far. The only reminder of the incident was her mother’s blood on her head. The lone raider quickly gave some water to the child and freed her from her. Then she grabbed some clothes of hers (being an experienced mother herself), made a small nest for the child to rest on her chest. Then she suited back up and took off. This was a day which forever changed their destiny, as many years later she found out…

IV.

No matter how much Max hated it, eventually he had to stop for rare spare parts for his car. He managed to figure out a reliable food and water supply for himself, but the mechanical items he was looking for were hard to come by. He hated these dangerous detours, as at any time someone could easily salvage his own ride, take his all possessions; and possibly kill him as well. Max usually went for smaller junkyards or abandoned cities; rarely went for populated outposts, just to limit the amount of danger he was exposed to. This time however, he had no choice, but to stop at Marsk. It was a city at the middle of nowhere; somewhere around the South supposed to be seashore. Before he entered the city, he made sure that he hid ride in a somewhat safe of a place; under a camouflage blanket and some sand. This was his standard procedure, before entering any place of sorts.

This neighborhood was on a famous new trading route (called Route 66), in a vast seabed; surrounded by dozens and dozens of old reefs. One of them held a special object on top of it: a massive tanker ship which split into half. At first, many thought it was a lake itself (from a distance) with its blue tinted coverings. This caught the attention of many, as rumors spread the word of this place; eventually marking this place on the new World’s map. At first it was just a mere resting sight; with several hopeless wanderers, scattered around the ship; in hope of ever finding some drinkable, fresh water. Later, as more arrived, an outpost began to form and a small community started to develop. The big turning point was, when the cruel gang leader, Immortan Joe took this settlement. His idea was to use his water (from his secret underground water springs) and win over the weak hearts of the people; to control them later on. He cunningly persuaded the inhabitants to follow his leadsmen-ship (by leaving a large stationary force), and offered them limited fake benefits and other supplies through various operations and second hand traders. This decision ensured his position, kept his secret and gave him additional advantage over the other leaders. He truly became the head of the region.

As time went on, the city’s specialty and uniqueness slowly shifted from being the “oasis of heaven” to the “den of gambling”. Many tried to play their luck, but lost to it, losing their life or getting imprisoned; just to have a small snippet of that nontoxic water. Joe also realized that he could combine this success with his prized drug; called "The gift of Ra". It was a heavy psychedelic drug, which resembled those yellowish old Indian spices of sorts. It was frightening, double edged sword: on one hand it eased several types of pain, energized the mind and body, made people feel invulnerable and lessened the effects of radiation and poisoning; turning man into pure, mindless killing machines. It also slowly consumed the user’s soul. It was highly addictive and destructive to the nervous system, damaged most cells in a person’s body and immensely dried out the entire body; turning them into living zombies. Rapid death waves amongst the users were quite often. Knowing this, Joe usually offered this “miracle” to his troops on rare occasions (to gain tactical advantage), as he could not fully control those whom were under the influence of the drug. After he decided to share it with the less fortunate; he bound those to his sick cult. Eventually, almost everyone became his puppet…

The layout of the city resembled an oil spill: the inner areas around the crack were the densest, and became sparse as further it got from the ship. Countless of tents were on top of each other, guarded by watchtowers and patrolling units; surrounded by vendors, tradesman, mechanics and plethora of different shaped and sized vehicles. It truly was a buzzing junkyard, roaring from the constant noise of banging metals and raging gamblers. Joe however, made it sure that his state would remain intact: so he somewhat shared his harvest with the rest of the gang leaders, befriending them till it was time for their termination. The ship also held a great fighting arena within, alongside with a large number of prison cells.

To ensure that the flock is behaving to Joe’s bidding, a set of rules where created: called the "food" chain (or laws of enlightenment). The main principle was simple: the wealthier you are, the better your protection of gear was; from the deadly rays of the Sun or any other chemicals and radiations. This resulted in a skewed hierarchy, with tremendous gaps between the rich and the poor. The lowest of the lowest where the common people, who had to scavenge their own protections and medicine, and served the great one (just like slaves). They whore mostly hand built cloths, and as they could not fully cover their parts from the rough conditions, they all showed various degrees of decays from radiation poisoning, sunburn and poisonous chemicals. All in all, they were not in good conditions which Joe could rely on.

Warboys where the first real level: they were bread to be a true drone for their leader. They were the byproduct of a half successful inbreed project. They lived in constant pain because of their several organ defects. They also had low blood white cells and their skin was so sensitive to light that they could not withstand a day’s light. To counter their skin conditions, they were covered in thick white paste at all times; turning them into living ghosts. Some also painted their face to match of a skull’s, just to enhance their frightening appearance. As they were not particularly strong or fit either, they became easily dispensable; as it did not matter too much, knowing how fast they were “produced”. The next level was the Tipper’s (officers), followed by the commanders. The first one was responsible for several groups of warboys at a time; the second one commanded two or three Tippers. Both of them wore skins of metal plating and other protective gears (like breathing equipment), and were allies of Joe (not his relatives and breeds).

***

Max had an eye for spotting great things. He always carefully browsed his surroundings and was always on the watch. He did not miss anything around him, as this ability of his helped him out many times in the past. As soon as he entered through the main gate, he had no time to spare. It would be only matter of time, before something unpleasant would happen to him – or seemingly he though. After asking a guard for guidance, he went deeper into the establishment. The marketplace he entered; was somewhat empty and oddly quiet. Just a couple of old persons lingered around their shops. Max sought out an old lady’s stand; who looked quite the familiar and was sharp as she could get. She greeted her next customer as Max cut right to the chase:

– I need some filters, two pistons, several sealing rings, a battery and some pipe. How much? – as Max looked deeply in the woman’s eyes he suddenly got an adrenaline pump; his heart started to rush like crazy. He heard a loud screaming voice, then several images of his past shocked him; instantly. His mind suddenly went dark and gave him a horrid look on his face, as he stood there. Regardless, the lady continued as nothing has happened (as she was accustomed to those who had the effects of the drug):

– Well young man, that’s quite the hefty order. Let me think about it for a second... Ahh, yes! At least, half a gallon of water! No, wait a minute. Make it one! – and she marked her words by crossing her arms. Max shook his head vigorously as a desperate reaction and said nothing. He gestured the woman to wait for a second. Then he pulled out a tin flask from his inner pocket and put it on the table. Than he stated the following (now in a much deeper and crispier voice):

– One. Just, one! Look... – he gently pulled the lady's right hand towards the flask, to encourage her to open the bottle. – Fine! Very fine! – he added. The tradeswoman was not pleased; she was not easily been tricked. But for some odd reason, she accepted this fools offers and decided to give it a try. She pulled out a small bag beneath the counter, filled with a white powder, and poured some water from the flask. She stirred the components into a thin paste like substance and waited a few moments for the chemical reaction to happen. The paste slowly started to change its color; from white to a pale blue. The lady's eyes went wide open and drew a surprised expression on her face. She was impressed by the fine quality of the product:

– I haven’t seen such clean water in decades!? How did you come by it? Do you have more of it? – she burst out in excitement. Max however was not pleased by her enthusiasm and quickly tried to tone down the lady:
– No. No! Hussh. – Max now weirdly gestured with his hands, as if he had problems with his motor skills. That scared the woman, but Max was restlessly, and continued: – I make it! Thought doing! Please... Take, it! Quick! – he could barely speak at this point. Luckily enough, the woman positively settled this matter in her head, and stopped asking questions from the visitor. She went on to gather the items she was ordered to fetch in the first place.

Max just stood there as best as he could; while sometimes wobbled from left to right. This meant that his mental breakdown was about to end; but unfortunately for him, his relief was quite short lived. He was monitored ever since he spoke to the guard. Not to mention that their conversation was overheard. Max then rialized that he was about to be captured: two warboys were heading his way. He had no time to waste, so he abandoned his goods and hoped for them to still be his; by the time he got back. He saw that some of the guards in the closer towers were also watching him, so he put on his turban, and ran towards the center. Max was no coward, but was experienced enough to know, when to flee a battle when you are heavily outnumbered. Regardless, he was a one of a kind, highly trained and skilled. As Max got closer to the Arena, the crowd got denser and denser. An unfamiliar event was happening right in front of him. It was his chance to vanish between the lines; a true blessing from those (the dead), who cared about him…

V.

Death Road was the reason for the gathering. It was a somewhat organized event by the five most despicable gang leaders, led by Immortan Joe. The goal was simply to gamble with people’s life in a somewhat newly fashioned, more exiting way; and of course it had to be pretty gruesome. Each leader had the task of capturing their own set of prisoners from the wasteland, in order to participate in the event. They usually went for smaller families or groups; which were mostly easy prays anyways. Gender, age, race, condition did not matter; everyone was captured as long as they could be seated into a vehicle. Then they brought their prisoners and locked them inside the belly of the shipwreck, and selected two contestants for the race. The goal was to drive from A to B and survive; as five cars went in and one came out. Afterwards they supposed to set everyone free – at least that what they used to tell the poor fools. They usually threatened the contesters in case they refused to cooperate. Sometimes unnecessary blood was shed, and many were killed way before the race had even started. The biggest and most hidden catch of the race was, the fact that the gang leaders bet on who would die last…

***

Max finally found a suitable place to avoid getting any attention. The announcer – who was a tiny man, with a remarkable deep voice – was about to call out all contestants and their rides. First a war drag racing car rolled to the starting line; it was a relatively short, one of those triangular shaped ones (equipped with several explosive spears and side guns). Then an old Citroën 7cv appeared (with a removed bonnet, shortened exhaust pipes, fit for off-road, with a harpoon seat at the back, and several loose chains hanging all over it). Followed by a 1985’s IROC-Z Camaro (brushed metal body, with an intake on the bonnet which covered the half of the view, and a straightened body to the ground to hold an extra collision bar around the car), a 1960’s dodge charger (had matte black paintjob, with lowered suspensions, 20” rims, darkened windows, straight horizontal exhaust underneath the doors, blackened lights, and front and rear spoilers) and a 1940’s VW Beetle (had a rusted, huge snowplow in front, had thick front wheels, and huge monstrous wheels in the back, and a tuned and replaced V12 engine). As these cars took their position, something unexpected happened. The second passenger from the VW Bug was taken out and shot in the chest, by a raging commander. He was enjoying himself way too greatly, when the woman he just killed refused his offerings and he decided to kill her.

Furiosa was shocked and started to rage as she got left alone in the car. Usually she was quite the tempered soul, but times have drastically changed over the past few weeks for her. She had no real family, but was taken and saved by one of the “many mothers”. They raised her as their own, until they got separated. However, not long ago she managed to reunite with them, when they got ambushed and imprisoned. Now all of her past was hanging on a thin thread. She was an intelligent and cunning woman; marked by two striking characteristics: she was bold and her head was painted black, and her left arm was mechanically replaced by a simple metal prosthetics. As far as the rules went: by killing her companion meant immediate death for her and her sisters. She tried to ask for desperate help, but nobody answered, while the crowd went silent. Warboys started to gather around her car to finish her off, when suddenly the announcer raised his voice once again and said:

– Look, you fools! We just got a new copilot for our lost friend here! What a marvelous turn of events! – It was none other than Max himself, whom got pushed out, into the front row. He was just catching his breath and minding his own business when a young girl (sitting on her father’s shoulders) started to play with Max's folded turban. He tried to buzz the little devil off with his hands but it did not work; and his cover was blown away. The announcer took his backwards waving gestures as an offering for the call of help. Max immediately knew at this point, that this day was clearly not in his favor…

At this point, Immortan Joe already knew about the stranger, and he did no mind if he was killed in action; so he did not interfere. The warboys forcefully brought Max up to the car and pushed him over the sister’s dead body: then he got another shocking image of another lost relative of his, thus his ears began to ring like crazy. It made him dizzy and almost lost his consciousness again. Furiosa looked at her and said:

– This is just great! I can’t believe this is happening right now! GOD FUCKING DAMN IT! – she continuously hit the dashboard while she was speaking. – Now, what am I supposed to do with you? Huh? Look at you!? – Even though Max was mentally disillusioned and in constant tremor, his body movements somehow became manageable: he pulled out one of his guns and pointed at Furiosa’s face; then he shook the gun toward the steering wheel. She shut up immediately. Then they continued, as they had to prepare themselves for the race:

– So… So, do you have a name, stranger? I’m Furiosa. – Only a brief burp of an answer came out, in response: Max. She was somewhat confused and tried to salvage the situation:
– Look! I know this might be hard for you, but if you understand me then help me out! I’ll need your help to survive this! Are you with me? – she tried to pull an answer out of him, but none came. She had no choice but to go with the situation.

The announcer cleared their path and set up the race to begin. All drivers where anxious to start; they had lot on the line. Furiosa looked once again to his partner and became terrified of their possible outcome. But there was no time to think about as the starting flag was waved ahead of them. Wheels spun up and sand was kicked into the air as they left.

The drag racer immediately took the lead, followed by the rest. They only had around two hundred yards to go, before they reached the front opening (of the ship). As they inched closer and closer to the exit, the guys in the front started to taunt the others. This was a big mistake from their part: the harpooned car acted swiftly and shot one of their tires, just right before they could escape. The first car vigorously spun, and flipped over themselves as they smashed into the walls and partially exploded. Their blasted bits and bobs where flying all over, as the rest crossed their flaming wreckage. This was just the beginning, as outside more surprises where waiting for them.

Most of the contestants thought, they could rest for a bit; as they fled to the open. However, right before any of them could act, gunfire echoed through the air. Most of them missed by far, but a couple flew extremely close; making them to rapidly change their directions. Then somebody at the nearest watchtower brought up his prized possession: a shoulder guided RPG-7. Then a couple of other warboys picked up the same weapon and unleashed hell on the riders. Dozens of rockets hit the ground around the convoy. They not just had to deal with the constant explosions but also with the terrain: several hidden net traps, metal spikes, holes and various sized rocks where in their ways. It was almost like a maze itself. It would only take a matter of time, and reckless driving, to drop one of them out. The driver in the Camaro got a strong wince, as a rocket almost got them. They got extremely tense in the car. Then a shot came and pierced through the roof and hit the drivers right hand, with a bounced off metal piece. He immediately cried out in pain, and vigorously yanked the steering wheel off to the left; the vehicle was completely out of control at this point. Just after a few seconds later, they encountered a descent sized rock and smashed right into it. The second person, survived the crash, but was blacked out for a bit. After regaining his consciousness he tried to free himself quickly as possible, despite the fact that both of his legs were now broken and couple of his ribs pierced through his lungs. To make things worse, other shots of rockets were approaching his position on after another; there was no escape for the poor fellow. Then the final shot came, as he was most desperate; creating a nasty explosion and a thick, tall black cloud. Back at the town, they showed no mercy and viciously executed those who’s drivers where already dead; the crowd roared out of pure entertainment in unison, as the prisoners blood was spilled onto the ground. This was the exact moment, when Furiosa came to a bitter realization: they are all going to die, just like a beaten, defenseless dog. Her face showed no hope as they drove out of reach from their accusers.

The salty seabed became flat, and surprisingly calm; only a barely visible path remained. They were out, but still not safe. Soon enough, the rest of the convoy realized that the desert is not a safe place to drive: their tires started to sink into the soft ground; they had no choice but to stay on the main track. The sounds of tuned, powerful cars where quickly outnumbered by constants gunfire between them; the doge started to pursue the WV Bug, while the harpooned car stayed behind. They were neck and neck; moving at a fairly decent speed when Max spotted the other masked copilot (climbing over their cars rooftop), wielding a chainsaw. He struck down and cut deep into the chassis of the VW, spilling hot sparks of metal all over inside; smoke started to arise from the burning materials. Max could not do much, as he was out of ammo; Furiosa then took the initiative and used her final, one shot gun; pulled out from a secret hidden pocket, next to the gear change. It blew the guys hand into bits, and made him drop the chainsaw; which ended up cutting his left arm off, and partially his left leg. As blood spilled everywhere, the guy fell off the Dodge and got run over by the last car. The lone driver now cursed and shouted at them, and swore revenge. He became more violent as his adrenalin rushed to his head; he quickly grabbed a small tin container out of his glove box and snipped a large amount of psychedelic drug; and spilled some of it on his face and into the car (it was none other than “The gift of Ra”). Refreshed and with his newly acquired energy, he drove the Dodge once again next to the VW Bug. The two car started to somewhat wrestle, as they plowed through the salty desert.

Several abandoned cars, busses and other larger truck started form ahead of them; strangely clustered around the main road. While Max tried to punch the now idiotic and enraged driver (who swung a flail towards him), he spot something familiar on the other side of the Dodge (on the ground), whilst missing a hit with his made up bat (which was his shotgun): a small round metal plate was poking out from the ground. Despite his discovery, he had not time to think about this, until Furiosa interrupted him:

– There’s a road block ahead! We need to get off the road. Get ready! – Max had to miraculously pay attention to both sides, but managed to answer:
– No… No! We go, straight! – and Max grabbed Furiosa’s right arm and nagged her to pull the trigger which lowered the plover.
– Are you out of your mind? – but her companion did not back up, and grabbed her even more strongly.
– Do it! Now! – Max shouted.

The other driver failed to realize their potential outcome; as he’s mind now was completely occupied by pure revenge. Furiosa, just in the last moment, pulled the trigger and smashed into the roadblock. They went through, but the Dodge got pushed off from the path. It quickly ran over a landmine and got blown up to bits and pieces. This was the signal for the harpooned car to interfere. It pulled closer and closer itself to the now pole positioned VW.

As Furiosa was relieved, Max’s mind started to recover; he regain his full consciousness. The fight was still not over: they had to deal with the last enemy vehicle. Explosive shots were fired on them, from the harpoon, as they continued to push on. Max looked behind and now realized something unexpected on the back seats:

– So when were you supposed to tell me, that there was a flamethrower in the back? – Furiosa just smiled at him and said:
– I completely forgot! My bad… So what? Go on and grab it! –

Max was upset by this idiocy, but went on and reached back for the gun. He poked out from the side and started to pour molten flames on their chasers. It helped a little (as he put the harpooned car on fire), but not enough to stop them. Soon after, he ran out of liquid gas, and was left unarmed. This was the chance for the other vehicle to tighten their space and have their final shot on the Bug; they were aiming at Max and almost got a direct hit. However Max pulled himself out of harm’s way, just in the right moment, but got stuck on the floating sharp metal pieces of the car. He’s vest got stuck for good.

The other car then moved up on their left side, to now get Furiosa; who tried to bend that one bar, to free Max. They wrestled back and forth (and they got stuck to each other), while the copilot of the Citroën started rain fire on them. Furiosa had no choice, but to take desperate actions: she clogged the gas paddle, freed Max and reached outside from her side of the car (to prepare herself to jump over). Meanwhile they all started to drift far off the main road, into the wild. They were heading into no man’s land as the Sun was about to set. They did not knew, that Joe dispatched several units his and companions to hunt them down; and had to face an approaching dangerous black storm…