A/N: So, hey guys. Tell me what you think. I've had so much fun writing this first chapter. Can't wait for you to read what happens next. Credit to Katiebees who beta'd. Favorite, follow and review. :) If you review as long as you're logged on I promise to reply back no matter how short. Thanks for giving this story a shot.

The cool evening breeze was a pleasant relief, considering the day had been long and hot, sun blazing overhead like an unending furnace, scorching the earth below. Perched on the hood of his car, Max gazed out at the desert below him. The cliff he'd parked on gave him the best vantage point for making his decision. He was still unsure which way to go.

The mountain pass he'd gone through wasn't the same range that Immortan Joe and his army had chased him, Furiosa and the wives through. It wasn't the same pass where Nux had sacrificed himself, giving his life away so that they may live. He couldn't bring himself to go back there. Besides, if there were survivors they wouldn't be too happy to see him. And he wasn't looking for a fight. He just wanted to ride.

Behind him, back through the mountain pass, lay the Citadel. The place he'd left almost a week and a half ago. The widows of Immortan Joe hadn't wanted him to go. He had protected them, after all, saved them, they didn't understand that he couldn't stay. He needed to keep moving, to wander. While the widows didn't understand, Furiosa did. No words needed to be exchanged between the two. She knew, and she made it clear that he was always welcome to return if he ever chose to do so. And maybe, someday, he'd take her up on that offer.

Taking a sip from his water flask, Max eyed the west. The distant haze of sand, indicated a large sandstorm brewing in the distance, heading toward him. It was something he could avoid. There'd been a cave a couple kilometers back, one that appeared to be large enough to keep him and his car out of the storm. Fortunately, it wasn't too deep into the mountain so he wouldn't have to worry about it caving in. It was the perfect place. If all went well then he'd hopefully be the only one to try and wait out the storm there. Looking at the great wall of sand, he estimated he had at least a couple of hours before it hit, giving him time, time to think. He didn't know what the storm hid behind it; maybe signs of a city, of civilization. Not that he was looking for a city. If he'd wanted a place to stay he would have remained at the Citadel. No, the storm didn't hold anything but endless plains of sand.

Max frowned as he turned his gaze to the East, a small dust cloud catching his attention as it headed his way. That clearly wasn't a storm.

Reaching over, he grabbed his rifle, bringing it up and peering through the scope. The rifle had been one of the many gifts given to him as a reward for helping the widows and Furiosa. The widows had even managed to find some of Max's old stuff that had been taken from him, including his little music box.

The dust cloud was trailing behind a convoy of cars, of which he counted six cars in total, all heading his way. From design and accessories alone it was clear that all six were part of the same group. However, there was something odd about the way they were driving. The lead car was driving erratically, almost appearing to be trying to get away from the others. His suspicions were confirmed when he spotted the passenger of the first car leaned out of their window, arm extended as they fired a few shots. Oddly, the cars in pursuit weren't returning fire.

Max frowned, unsure of what was going on. His curiosity was only placated by the urge to not to get involved. He didn't care. Besides, who knows, maybe those being pursued were thieves and the chasers were only trying to get their property back. The only problem with that scenario was that he couldn't understand why the other cars weren't they trying to kill the thieves? It would be easy enough, and they clearly outnumbered their target. All it would take it one good shot…

As if following his train of thoughts, Max heard the distinct and very faint sound of a single gunshot, the sound echoing around him. Instantly, the lead car swerved harshly. It was clear that the driver was trying to regain control of the vehicle, but a flat tire and the speed that they were driving made it impossible. Max didn't have to see the driver to know the exact moment that they made the deadly mistake. The car swerved one way, and the driver tried to overcompensate by the cranking the wheel in the other direction. They were moving too fast, the momentum generated forced the vehicle into a tumble, the car rolling several times before skidding to a stop on its roof.

The five chasing cars rolled to a stop, keeping a good distance away from the demolished car. Men got out of cars slowly, guns in hands, but they held a casual stance to them. Max looked back at the flipped car. No movement. He wasn't sure why this bothered him. Didn't he decide that the two were thieves?

Nova groaned, her entire body aching and in pain. Something warm and wet trickled down her face. Blinking blearily, she couldn't figure out why her arms were hanging limply up over her head, or how the world was upside down. The rock attached to her necklace touched her lips. Her heart leapt in her chest, she was hanging upside down. Had it not been for the fact that she'd strapped herself into her seat, she was sure she would have died when the car flipped. Fortunately, dying was counterproductive to her mission. She needed to live.

"Volt," she croaked, wincing as she turned to look at her friend, the driver of the car.

His body hung limply from his seat belt. She couldn't tell if he were breathing: he gave no indication that he was alive. Tears clouded her vision and she tried to say his name, but she could barely breathe, much less say a word. Fresh blood trickled out of a nasty gash on his forehead, soaking into part of his black mohawk. Like she'd been earlier, his arms hung limply over his head. Blood ran down his right arm, dripping from his fingertips onto the roof of the car. His skin unusually pale. He'd lost too much blood.

The sound of car doors slamming forced her to focus. She was still in trouble. Struggling with her belt, she quickly realized there was no way to unfasten it without cutting herself out. Summoning all of her energy, she curled up, ignoring how the belt dug into her body. She pulled the knife from her boot then relaxed, making it easier to breath. Reaching up, she sawed through the material, almost immediately regretting her decision when she crashed face first onto the roof of the car. Fuck, she thought.

"Idiot!" someone shouted. "If she's dead you'll be next."

The person's voice was too close. She didn't have much time. "Volt," she hissed, pushing him. No movement. "No! Don't you dare leave me," she commanded. Still, her hand trembled as she checked for a pulse. She would kill him if he died on her. They had a mission to complete. He couldn't leave her. Much to her relief, she felt a weak pulse.

She didn't have time to get him down. But then again, she didn't want to. There was a chance that if she left him there, pretended he was dead, that he could survive. Saven's men weren't going to kill her, at least, she was pretty positive that she was safe from death. But Volt, on the other hand, was a dead man if they checked. Spotting a black box in the back of the car, she quickly pulled it to the front, flipped it over and opened it, revealing what was left of their weapons stash. Rustling around, she grabbed her dual kukris, sticking them in the back of her tan cargo pants, making sure to put her grey t-shirt over the weapons to help hide them. All their remaining guns were useless, she'd used up most of their ammo up during the chase. Grabbing her revolver, Nova checked the chamber. Only two bullets left, and way more enemies than that. Mentally groaning, she holstered her gun. Taking one quick last look into the box she felt elated, seeing the last grenade. Grabbing it, she put it in the pouch attached to her belt.

The voices of the men were much closer than she cared for. She needed to draw them away.

"I'll be back," she whispered to Volt.

Carefully crawling through the debris, Nova pushed the passenger door, and it opened with a groan until the gap was wide enough she was able to squeeze through. As she moved, she realized how badly her body hurt from the effort. Nothing appeared to be broken, but she was sure she'd be black and blue for days. Her hands dug into the hot sand as she crawled out.

The men seemed to collectively sigh in relief the moment they spotted her. She gave a grim smile. They wouldn't for long though. With a quick glance, she counted seven men and five cars. She knew there would be more of them waiting. Her mind ran through quick calculations, coming up with a plan.

"Come now, Nova. A storm is coming and we-"

She didn't give the man time to speak, drawing her pistol and firing her last two bullets, hitting him and the man standing nearby. The other five quickly scurried for cover, giving her enough time to make a mad dash towards them. Focusing her attention on the middle car, she pulled the grenade out of her pouch, keeping it firmly clasped in one hand while she pulled the pin with her other hand. Drawing her arm back, she threw it towards them, the thought coming too late that she may want to keep one cars intact.

Feet slipping in the sand, she turned, skidding to a stop. Crouching low, she scurried back toward her wrecked car. Behind her, she heard the desperate shouts and sounds of car doors being thrown open as people tried to get clear from the danger.

One, two, three, four, her mind counted. She threw herself face first onto the sand behind her car, covering her head with her hands. She felt the shockwave before she heard the blast or felt the heat. The explosion was way bigger than she'd expected, the grenade must have landed near one of the gas tanks.

Peering up cautiously, she looked at the cars, her jaw dropping at the sight. She'd done way more damage than she'd thought, or planned.

"What have you done?" The scream came from her right.

It was now or never. Hurriedly drawing her kukris and discarding their sheaths, Nova rose to her feet, slashing the first guy who come too close. As her blades sunk into his belly, he cried out in pain, folding over as he clutched the wound. Using his body as a surface, she rolled over his back, using the momentum to rush at the other four who were still standing in shock. She wouldn't give them a chance to regain their composure.

The first man barely had time to raise his gun to block her incoming blades. Twisting her blades, she shifted their trajectory, her movements fluid as she compensated, kicking in his knee. As soon as he dropped his guard, she delivered the killing strike.

She wasn't sure why they didn't try to shoot a leg or arm to stop her. Maybe they were too scared that they would make a mistake and accidentally kill her. But that wasn't going to stop her from killing them. Or maybe they didn't want to damage her more than they had. Fools.

She didn't give herself time to think as she darted towards the remaining three. This time, they didn't hesitate, surrounding her and blocking her attacks. One of the men dropped his gun, moving in with a knife, while another man distracted her. She felt a biting pain along her right thigh as the blade dug in just deep enough to force her to her knees. That very same blade nicked her right side. She bit back a scream of pain, tasting blood.

Throwing her strength into her left arm, she slashed the kukri out and up, feeling the blade go through flesh. She heard a gurgle as blood sprayed through the air, the warm liquid splattering on her skin.

An unexpected blow came from behind her, hitting her in the back of the head, and for a moment she nearly blacked out from the pain, falling to her hands and knees. Stars danced in front of her vision as she shook her head, trying to clear it. A hand roughly grabbed hers, yanking and twisting her right wrist, forcing her to drop the kukri. With a cry, she swung her left arm up and behind her, but he caught that wrist as well, holding on tightly. He twisted her arms painfully backwards and up, forcing her onto her face in the sand.

"I will break your wrists," he growled. She couldn't help but cry out in pain when he purposely twisted her arm, showing that he meant to follow through with his threat.

Everyone jumped when a warrior like scream pierced the air, and her head snapped around just on time to see Volt launch himself at one of the remaining enemy. She gritted her teeth when the man who held her didn't loosen his grip.

"Kill him!" he ordered.

But it quickly became apparent that Volt had the advantage. His quick speed and lethality with his knives didn't give his victims even a moment to retaliate.

Nova's captor pushed her further into the sand, body tensing up as he watched his comrades fall. She heard him look around and saw his pistol on the ground, just within reach, as long as he loosened his hold on her. She waited for the right moment. Her captor reached out grabbing his gun. Loosening his hold on her, but not quite enough.

Volt turned, spotting the two. He prepared to throw a knife. A shot rang out, hitting his left shoulder and sending his body back a little. He moved, trying to throw his knife, but another bullet hit him in the chest. Then, from behind, a sword pierced through. Volt spun, knife successfully hitting his attacker in the throat.

"Volt!" Nova heard herself scream in terror.

Her captor aimed his gun at Volt's head, in that moment she felt his grip loosen just enough to free her right wrist. Grabbing her kukri with her left arm she took her captor's momentary distraction to her advantage, awkwardly slicing the blade up, cutting his arm. He let out a curse, throwing himself back, releasing her. Quickly scrambling forward, she grabbed her other blade out of the sand and got to her feet ready to kill the last man.

"Nova!" Volt yelled, trying to warn her. Blood flying out of his mouth. He was kneeling on the ground, sword still through his chest, but he wasn't looking at her. He was looking behind her.

The sound of feet pounding on the desert sand registered too late in her brain. She spun around, not expecting a body to slam into her so soon, tackling her to the ground. The force of the impact felt like it jarred all the bones in her body, rattling her brain around inside her skull. Her grip on her weapons unwillingly loosened and she felt them fly out of her hands. She hit the ground hard, breath forcefully knocked out of her lungs and her vision fading black around the edges.

Coughing and spluttering, she tried to regain her breath, but she hardly had time to take a single breath before a large hand wrapped around her throat, tightening painfully, cutting off her air supply.

Above her crouched a giant of a man, his weight settled entirely on her chest, easily pinning her down. Neither she nor Volt had noticed him. Where the hell did he come from? She'd thought there was only one guy left, but she could see her former captor out of the corner of her eye, nursing his wound. She couldn't tell if there were others behind him, or if she was starting to see double as her vision blurred.

The large man kept a sneer on his face as he choked the life out of her. Panic flared through her. She didn't understand: they weren't supposed to kill her.

She fruitlessly hit the hand around her neck, trying to dislodge it, but his grip was solid. Unrelenting.

I can't die, she thought to herself. She hadn't - she needed - Her thoughts began to unfocus, as oxygen failed to reach her brain. Her arms were soon lead heavy and she knew that she was barely hitting him. She'd failed. She'd failed everyone. She didn't want to give up. But the back of her mind lulled her. She no longer had to fight. She could finally rest in peace.

A single shot shattered the quiet and the giant's shoulder lurched back, his grip around her throat slackening. Inhaling deeply, she enjoyed the feeling of sweet hot air as it filled her lungs, not noticing as the man above her look around wildly, searching for the source of the bullet. A second shot echoed, this time the bullet hitting the man straight in the head, sending him flying back, sprawled out across her legs.

Her attackers examined the ridgeline above them, trying to pinpoint their shooter. There were only three men left, desperately trying to find cover. As one of the men tried to duck behind a smoldering car he cried out as his body spun, a bullet lodged in his shoulder. The other two were quick to run for their own cover, desperately hiding behind her car.

Nova wasn't sure if their shooter was going to kill her or not. Nor did she care to find out. She could worry about that in a second, right now there were still two guys that were too close for comfort. Rolling out from beneath the giant's legs, Nova got to her feet, keeping her head down as she rubbed her neck. Straightening, she nearly cried out, when a sharp pain flared up her leg and side, causing her to fall back to her knees. Her body was no longer allowing her to ignore her wounds completely. The cut she'd received earlier demanded attention. Looking up, she barely had the time to dodge a bat to the face. Using the man as leverage, she pulled herself to her feet, giving her the opportunity to strike out at his neck with the sharp blade she held in hand.

The edges of her vision blurred as her body swayed, and she fought to stay upright. She could feel her body shut down, but there were still two more men. She tensed, bringing the blade up defensively as one of them stood up from behind her car, only to drop dead a moment later when his head snapped back from a bullet.

One. Her determined and fearless gaze met the last man's terrified one. There was no doubt he'd expected an easy mission when he'd been sent to capture her. He should have realized his error a long time ago. He should have realized it when the fifteen cars that had been sent had whittled down to five.

She took a step toward him, switching the dagger from her right hand to her left, then pressing her right hand against her bleeding thigh. Pain flared up from her wound, but she couldn't look at it, not yet. Soon she'd be able to sleep. Take a nice long nap...Shaking her head, she blinked blearily. She had to focus. Just one more left.

There was desperation in his eyes, anger as he glared at her. His buddies were dead and it was her fault. He must have forgotten about the shooter, or just didn't care. Pulling out a dagger, he shuffled back and forth on his feet. So, he was going to try to kill her. With a war cry he ran at her, weapon raised, readily to strike. He jerked as a bullet hit him from behind, sending him stumbling forwards. Her legs refused to obey her commands to move, but her arms did. She struck out, burying her knife deep into the side of his skull. If the bullet hadn't killed him then the knife certainly had.

His body fell on her and she fell back, staring up at the sky.

The sun beat down on her and she tried to get out from under the heavy body, but she had no more strength. It was difficult for her to breathe. Remembering the mysterious shooter, Nova summoned all the strength she had to roll the body off of her and move to her stomach. To her right, just past the wreckage of her car, she could see a sandstorm coming. In front of her was the mountain. Her and Volt had been so close to it. Safety was there.

Grabbing a handful of sand, she pulled her body up an inch toward the safety of the car then collapsed. Her strength was gone. The mysterious shooter was still out there, no doubt trying to find a way down to them to look for loot. She couldn't trust whoever it was to help her. She could only hope that they'd not kill her and leave her to whatever fate the sandstorm had in store for her.

Letting out a shaky breath, Nova embraced the darkness.

It was a stupid idea on his end to help the thieves. But something had stirred in him the moment he'd seen the large man choking the life out of the smaller woman. He couldn't stand there and watch it happen. So he'd shot the man, first in the shoulder, not his best shot. But his second shot was true, hitting the man straight in the head.

She must not have noticed the five who were able to escape from their vehicles before the five vehicles went up in flames. One of them snuck up, taking care of her companion, before the larger man attacked her. When Max opened fired on them he expected the remaining three to run for cover, but only two did. The woman surprised Max by killing the third man who decided it was best to attack her, but she looked half dead, arms drooping forward as she swayed on her feet. He didn't think she had enough strength or stamina in her to take down two remaining men. He took a quick shot at the first guy he saw leave the safety of the car. The last guy they took down together. He knew his shot had been fatal, seeing the man's body falter, but if he hadn't killed the guy she certainly had with her knife.

Max slowed his car to a crawl as he reached the site of the scuffle. Blood and bodies covered the sand around wrecked car. Behind that, four of the five cars were blackened by the fire. Parking his car, he gave a quick glance to the incoming sandstorm. He had to hurry, he was running out of time. He couldn't waste to much time searching.

Stopping by the wrecked car, he glanced around, pulling out a black box. It was filled with weapons, mostly guns. No bullets though. Practically useless. Dragging the black box out behind him, he walked toward the only other car that actually looked intact. Max paused a couple of times, gazing around, listening intently, making sure that the bodies in his immediate area were dead. He wanted no surprises.

This car actually had worthwhile gear. Filling the box with leftover bullets, food, water, and just about anything else that didn't look broken or were of interest, Max brought the items to his car, stuffing everything inside. Returning to the driver's side, he was about to get in, when a thought struck him.

Don't do it, he warned himself. But he'd already started moving toward the other side of the wreck, in the direction where he's seen the woman take her fall.

A strange sound, not quite a cough and yet not a wheeze, caught his attention and he froze, turning slightly towards the sounds. Eyes searching the area wildly, he realized it was coming from the young man, lying on his right side, who still had a sword through his chest. He looked like he was in his early twenties at most, reminding Max a little of Nux. The lad looked up, his whole body shook from his effort, ice blue eyes piercing Max's.

"Do-do-don-" he tried to say, but it was too much effort for him.

Twitching his mouth, Max slowly approached the dying young man, crouching down by his side. The sword was the only thing keeping him alive. He knew that the moment he took it out then the kid would bleed out.

"You're going to die," Max told him simply.

The young man's breathed shakily, the sound rasping and wet. The young man looked at his unconscious companion. Regret and guilt clear in his eyes. "Fo-for-forg," he tried to say, clearly wanting forgiveness. He looked up at Max. Was he asking for forgiveness because he failed in protecting the woman? Perhaps failing his mission, whatever that was?

Reaching over, Max grabbed the hilt of the sword. The lad gave him only the smallest of nods. Pulling the sword out, blood quickly pulled out. Now there really wasn't much time left. Gently, Max helped the young man lay back.

"Pa-pa-pa-please," he stammered, hands holding the necklace he wore. The necklace wasn't anything special. A grey rock wrapped in a silver chain. He took a couple more shuddering breaths and then his arms went slack, dropping the necklace as his eyes glazed over.

Sighing, Max unfastened the chain and put it in his pocket before cautiously moving towards the nearby woman. He was wary, alert for any movement. He knew she was alive, and he'd seen her surprise her enemies enough times, to know that she could handle herself. And wasn't quite ready to get a knife to the belly.

Gazing down at her, he found her hands empty, knives nowhere to been seen. Her eyes were close, and for a second he wondered if she was even breathing. Leaning down, he placed his fingertips against her neck, checking for a weak pulse. It was there, and weak as he suspected.

She wore a short-sleeved grey T-shirt and tan military corset-vest with black twin leg holsters that were currently empty. Her hooded grey cowl covered her head, although dark hair peaked through.

Going back to his car, he grabbed a small piece of rope and returned to her, tying her hands in front of her, before picking her up and placing her in his car. Returning back to the area, he searched around for her weapons, finding her knives partly buried in the sand. They were well made. Taking one last look through her car, Max grabbed a bag of belonging that he saw in the back, along with a few more scattered items. He would rather her not throw a fit if he left any of her stuff behind. Not that he would go back for them, especially since he had no doubt that the sandstorm would do away with them anyways. But he knew what it was like miss his own things.

Items in hand, he returned to his car, eyeing the sandstorm. There would be just enough time for him to make it to the small cave that he'd seen. Getting in, he gave the unconscious woman a second glance. He knew of a safe place to take her too. Hopefully, that would be the end of this little adventure.