Most of a teenaged War Boys' duties kept them in their specialization. Black Thumbs kept to various duties in the garage, for the most part, but now and then a daily assignment would fall on them that gave them the opportunity to get out and about. And sometimes when they were lucky… very lucky… it would be something that brought them up to the Immortan's personal halls. Most of the time, he would be far too busy to spare much attention to the young War Boys milling about, making sure things ran like a perfectly oiled machine, but sometimes he'd be there, up close, in person. Just to be in the same room as him was an honor.
Laundry Duty, though, was an especially coveted task. It was passed along from Boy to Boy for security reasons, mostly, and Nux could not believe his luck. Not only did it bring you that much closer to the Immortan, but even more amazing, there was the off chance you might even catch a glimpse of one of his pet Breeders. He'd only seen glimpses of them, paraded out on occasion on display, but usually kept locked away from everything and everyone. They had to keep those lovely white linens clean somehow.
The young man gripped the basket tightly, expression set in utmost seriousness and stoic determination as he passed by the Personal Guard, but his heart was in his throat, and he fought the urge to giggle manically as he passed through the Servant's Entrance. The Vault. He was actually going to the Vault. Would they be there? Lounging about in soft clean sheets and - no, no. He wouldn't be let in if they were just there, it didn't work that way. Or did it? One of the other boys he knew said when he came to get their laundry that time they were bathing. Even Slit hadn't had a Laundry Duty yet! He must have impressed someone, or else he had won a very lucky lottery. They didn't go out, usually… they had to be there, but maybe protected and distracted by Miss Giddy?
The door swung open and he poked his head inside over the basket, blue eyes wide like a frightened animal. There, waiting for him, was the filled basket. In and out, he was supposed to go. He swallowed, setting the empty basket down before hefting up the full one, eyes peeled for any sign of movement.
Red curls shifted slightly behind the doorway of the separate bedroom as a single young Wife peeked from behind it, and seemed to breathe out a sigh of relief. It wasn't the Immortan, as she'd feared. Just a boy. But he might notice the others were gone. Might suspect. Might run and tell and ruin everything. The girl set her jaw and stood up straight, stepping out into view.
"Hello, War Boy…" She said, as cooly as she could manage, and fought not to let her voice tremble.
Oh, Sweet, Merciful Immortan she was talking to him- Nux immediately threw his hands up in a salute, dropping the laundry basket in the process directly on his boots, sending linens scattering to the floor with a strangled noise in his throat.
Capable watched him fumble, too nervous to laugh as her heart leapt up into her throat, and the more time she allowed to fill with silence was more time for him to start asking questions. She squared her shoulders with a deep breath, slowly skirting the edge of the pool in the middle of the room toward him.
"What's your name?"
Now came the dilemma. He wasn't supposed to speak with them. Forbidden. Even looking at them was a Sin in the eyes of Daddy Immortan, but one that, should one happen to catch a glimpse offhandedly or under certain circumstances was forgivable, but this? The laundry lay in a heap between them, and the young War Boy's wide eyes darted from the fiery-headed woman, down to the cloth, and back up again. No, no, he wouldn't screw this up too. A simple task! Just pick it all up and leave, he could do it… but a million questions burned away in the back of his head.
He swallowed them down, crouching immediately to avert his eyes and quickly scramble to gather the strewn garments without a word, although he was already sweating through his Clay.
"Hey…" She tried to prompt him, and forced herself not to look over her shoulder, not to look back while her sisters were still fleeing through the hole they'd managed to dig, into one of the many networks of tunnels beneath them. She would catch up with them. They would be safe. But she had to be certain the War Boy wouldn't be suspicious, or go running for the Immortan.
She knelt down in front of him and reached to begin helping him with the linens, swallowed down the pearl of dread hanging in her throat, and smiled. "It's alright...He's not here. I won't tell. What's your name, War Boy?"
He was glad for his war paint hiding the heated flush on his face, eyes still wild and wary as he glanced up at her, brows furrowed, "You trying to trick me?"
She froze for a moment, just a fraction of a second as alarms screamed in her head, and something primal told her to run. But Capable held firm, smiled again, and shook her head. "I'd just like to know...He keeps us here so much, we never get to talk to anyone else but Miss Giddy."
"You are His. Not supposed to-" He glanced over his shoulder as well, heart in his throat. Slit would never believe this. Never in a million lifetimes. He cleared his throat, shoveling more thin fabrics into the basket. "Going to get me banned from Laundry Duty!" He finally growled, although there wasn't much ferocity to it. He pursed his scarred lips, gripping the edge of the basket tightly before checking around the massive, impressive room again. So many things, unfamiliar things, things he was aching to ask about, but not his place. Not his things. Not his business. His business lay in the garage. Lay down below. In the boiling tanks waiting for the various loads of laundry. But here he was, speaking with one of the Breeders… like she was just some other War Boy! He'd never seen anything quite like her, at least not from this close. Even more questions burned on his tongue, made his stomach twist, but he couldn't show weakness. Couldn't show his faltering. Couldn't show his disobedience. He stood stiffly, clutching the basket as tight as he could.
"Right….His…" Capable frowned, words burning on her tongue that she didn't dare utter. He didn't know the cruelty of the Immortan. None of the War Boys did. Not in the way she and the other girls did. And to even speak of cruelty to one of Joe's dogs, comparing the lavish comforts afforded to her...well, they'd think she was mad. Words falling on deaf ears.
"Well, if you won't tell me your name, I'll tell you mine…" She stood with him and stepped closer, heart thundering in her chest so loudly she almost feared the War Boy could hear it, and she swallowed down another fit of choking anxiety, skin prickling and her tongue going cold in her mouth as her lips came near to the boy's ear.
"Capable. My name's Capable. Will you do something for me, War Boy?"
Capable. Capable capable capable such an odd name, but befitting he supposed- had to be. One wasn't called Capable if they weren't, right? Unless it was some sort of Irony or- he was over thinking it, panic bubbling up in him as he hugged the basket so tightly he thought he would break it. "I.. er…! I suppose, serving you is like serving The Immortan and that's er… sort of why I'm here! Yes? Perhaps. Depends!" He floundered, brain trying to rationalize any excuse to prolong this brief encounter.
"Close your eyes," she whispered, hoping her lips weren't so close that he could feel them tremble with the chill of nervous fear twisting in her gut. A War Boy like him, reverent at the very sight of the Immortan's Wife, frightened even to speak to her, would surely be too distracted with the memory of a mere moment of affection to think to tell Joe, to think of anything else...And with a gentle kiss to his cheek, Capable made certain to obtain his silence. War Boys were honest creatures. And this one wouldn't dare confess.
"Go...don't open them until you're out the door."
Nux wasn't sure what he expected. His brain had been so busy trying to comprehend the situation he was in, it didn't have time to argue when he was given a direct order as simple as "close your eyes". It was all he could do to ignore the fact the Breeder was hovering so close, that he could feel the warmth radiating off of her, that she could probably smell the sweat and terror on him. If someone walked in- those thoughts were cut short as he felt lips pressed to his cheek, and he scrambled back immediately. He knew what a Kiss was, although he hadn't had one delivered to him since he had been a small pup leaving the Nursery. There had been that time he had, in a fit of joy, kissed Slit on the cheek, but that had resulted in a broken nose. Obviously, lashing out was not the right thing to do in this sort of situation, and for a brief moment his eyes had flown open wide with horror, only to squeeze shut again upon her order, and he turned on his heel to try to run for the door- unfortunately resulting in his crashing into a stack of heavy papery things, sending them flying. Blindly, he scrambled for the laundry basket, attempted to leave once more, hit the door frame with a strangled yelp, and continued on into the dim corridor where he assumed it was safe to open them again.
What in Hell had just happened?
The tension of the moment shattered for Capable as the War Boy nearly toppled over a stack of Books, and clapped a hand over her mouth when a bubble of laughter rose up from her throat. She'd seen a lot of rough-looking boys come in and out to collect her laundry before, and usually their faces were all stern, eyes on the floor, out of respect for the Wives, and out of fear for what the Immortan would do if they broke his rules. But this one...Maybe it was only that he was one of so few who ever dared to look at her, but seeing his eyes...she almost felt he was sweet. Eyes that blue, she'd never seen. Even the Immortan's weren't so vibrant. But it left a sick feeling in her stomach to think they were so similar in color. Blue eyes were not endearing, nor kind. They were cold whirlpools, threatening to drag her under, and drown her in subjugation. Blue eyes meant tyranny, and pain.
As the Vault closed and locked, Capable rushed back to the bedroom and jumped down through the hole, running to catch up with her sisters.
Nux, meanwhile, was in a whirlwind of his own, drowning in Thoughts and Feelings and Confusion and Excitement… He had to tell Slit and the other Boys! He HAD to! But none of them would believe him! How could they? He almost didn't believe it, and he had most certainly been there to witness it… What would he even tell them? What if word spread, and the Immortan caught wind of it? No, that was a death sentence of the most dishonorable, horrifying sort. What was he supposed to even make of it?
He ghosted along almost on autopilot, a haunted expression on his face as he hurried past the Guard, down the hall, through a passage, down a ramp and a stone stairway. The boilers weren't far, but once he noted he was alone in the tunnel, he darted through yet another doorway into one of the lesser used sub-tunnels for a little privacy.
Just needed to pull himself together. A few deep breaths to calm Barry and Larry down and get his head on straight. Back against the wall, he set the laundry basket down, eyeing the contents. Another look up and down, and a careful listen confirmed he was indeed alone.
Gingerly, he riffled through the linens there- bed sheets, linen wraps, soft pale fabric unlike he had ever seen. A far cry from the oil-stained rags they had to work with for drop cloths and towels, nor leather or the thick, worn fabric of their uniforms. There, tangled in the fine threads of one of the wraps was a long red hair.
The color of Nitro, burning bright in his mind's eye. How could someone have hair so bright? He drew the garment up to his face, giving it a long, careful inhale, filling his head with her scent. So unlike the stench of the Barracks. The sharp metallic odors of the Garage. Unfamiliar. Comforting. Strange. Inviting. He felt like he had stolen something, just by experiencing this flavor in his nose, and maybe he had. His stomach dropped, but he kept the thing pressed to his nose and mouth, eyes watering with the drowning panic. This was undoubtedly a punishable offense- deeply punishable. Well… well, no one had to know, right?
No one but the mangle-faced War Boy ducking into the tunnels to lose a pack of other boys that had given chase. Slit stifled a cackle as they ran past, his back pressed into the engulfing shadows of the narrow hall, and flipped his blade back into its holster.
"Stupid shits," he growled, and spat a wad of phlegm into the dirt between rattling breaths as he panted. He pushed off the wall, squinting into the darkness as he made his way deeper in. It was a favorite hideout of his and Nux's, the place they brought their stolen treasures and traded, where they retreated when they needed a moment's peace from the chaos of activity in the Citadel. And it was here Slit could safely catch his breath.
Nux was so absorbed in his moment, he hardly registered someone approaching until the shadow was nearly upon him - with a start, the garment was shuffled between his hands and thrown down into the basket at his feet, frantic eyes peering through the darkness before his expression relaxed, "Slit! Gave me an attack!"
"What you got here?" Slit looked at the laundry basket full of white linens. Linens that belonged to the Wives. A grin twisted slowly across his face. War Boys were too devoted to the Immortan to ever dare more than a peek at his treasures, but many were still enthralled by their beauty (those lucky enough to see them), especially among the young teenagers so used to seeing dull brown walls and grey steel, chalk white bodies or dark shapes covered in rags, that the sight of clean flesh and white cloth was a shock. A thrill, even. And Slit was no exception.
He plucked an edge of linen from the basket and lifted it slowly, grease-stained fingers leaving smudges behind. "So soft...Did you see one?"
Nux might have been many things, but a liar was not one of them. The secret burned in his stomach, in the memory of the feeling on his cheek, burning on his tongue like Guzzline. He glanced down the tunnel again and back, expression twisted into fierce seriousness, "You must not tell, Slit. No one! Or I'll cut you in your sleep!"
At that, Slit's grin only spread wider, and he felt the weight of his knife at his hip, made suddenly aware of it, like a thirst that nagged in the blade. He stepped closer, until the heat of his stinking breath huffed across Nux's shoulder, and anchored a heavy hand there. "Out with it, smeg! Or I'll cut it out of you right now…You saw one, didn't you? What'd she look like?"
Nux snarled back, mouth twisting into an eager smile, his eyes flashing, "Not just sawr her, brother! She KISSED me!" His voice was a vicious hiss, as though he wasn't sure whether to be absolutely excited about this development, or horrified.
Slit was silent a moment, nostrils curling as a snort of disbelief rattled at the back of his sinuses. "You'd be dead! The Immortan would never let some Black Thumb slag kiss his Wives. You think I'm a fool?"
His eyes darkened under lowered brows as the Lancer pushed Nux away, and helped himself to another bit of linen, head tilting at the sight of old, dried blood staining a patch of it. That they even bled seemed impossible to Slit, such creatures he'd heard stories spun about, how they were made of light, and shimmered like well-polished chrome. He brought the fabric to his nose, surprised by the pleasantness of the smell, mixed with the dull copper of old blood.
Nux's stomach twisted as Slit took his own share of the spoils, like something secret and sacred and only his own was being stolen. He snatched the garment away with a fresh growl, "I did not kiss HER. SHE did ME. Possibly a trick to try and get me in trouble, but I was not swayed! Immortan would be Proud!" He jabbed a finger against Slit's chest.
Slit snarled, bristling at the rag being snatched from him, when there were so very many in the basket. More than enough for both of them to pick from, mementos from the Wives. And the blood of a Wife had to be a rare prize. A prize Nux seemed intent on keeping for himself.
"Why would she do you? You're nothin' special…" Slit rumbled, and plucked his blade from its sheath with a flourish. "We'll split it. Down the middle."
"You just want to throw me under the tires," Nux gave him a shove back before hesitating, glancing over his shoulder down the tunnel again, "Sssh, you hear that?"
The Below Boy was getting too bold for his own good, and Slit felt something raw in his gut at the accusation, lurching forward to plant one hand against the wall near Nux's head, while the other brought the knife's edge against the War Boy's side. Nose to nose, and tight lipped, he ignored Nux's warning, a diversion to be sure.
"I'll cut your wires first if you don't-"
The soft sound of whispers interrupted him, distracted with what seemed to be female voices echoing deftly in the dim tunnel.
"Honest!" Nux snarled, fist jabbing hard into Slit's stomach before he dodged under his arms.
"Hhff!" Slit lost the air in his lungs and staggered back, bent over his own stomach as he coughed, gagging on the thin wheeze he managed.
"What do you mean it's locked, I thought you said-"
"I know what I said. It was supposed to be open. She said it was usually left open for aeration."
"Obviously it's NOT."
"We'll just have to find another way. Keep your voice down."
Nux scooped up the basket just in case, creeping as quiet as his boots would let him toward the sound of echoing voices.
"What was that? There's someone in here! We have to go back!"
"Cheedo, sshh! You'll get us caught!" Capable hissed at the youngest girl, following close to Angharad as they all went still and silent.
Slit glared after Nux, wanted to tackle him to the ground and peel his flesh, but there were more important things to consider. Like who might be eavesdropping, who might peek in at two young War Boys sniffing and scrapping over the Immortan's Wives' linens. And making certain those somebodies held their tongues. He crept after Nux, but reached for another swatch of cloth from the basket to stuff into his pockets.
Nux crept around the bend, peering in a quick darting movement as though expecting gun fire. He was good at sharp glimpses, and when no bullets flew and he registered what he had seen, he frowned and shuffled around the corner again. Just an empty tunnel.
Maybe. How many crevices had he and Slit found to tuck into over the years? Crevices could save you from a beating, an awkward encounter, being trampled in an emergency… it could also help you follow. Help you spy. Let you stay out of the way.
He swatted Slit away from the basket with a sharp kick before stalking forward again, eyes ahead, but it was his peripherals he was certainly concentrating on.
"There's just two! Let me go, I'll-!" There, a breath of a whisper, just ahead where the rock dipped in for the latched doorway that connected to the next ring of hall in their beehive.
Angharad kept her hand firmly planted over The Dag's mouth, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. Don't breathe.
Capable froze. They all did. If they tried to run, the two War Boys were certain to see them, certain to tell the Immortan. Everything would be ruined. She looked over her shoulder at Cheedo, her dark eyes brimming with tears, terrified. They couldn't go back, and couldn't go forward, and Capable held her breath as the two figures came ever closer, and hoped with every fiber that the shadows would conceal her sisters as she stood and stepped forward, only to recognize the boy with his arms around the laundry basket.
"War Boy!" she said breathlessly, heart lurching into a marathon pace, and tried not to be sick. "What are you doing here…?"
Nux's first reaction was alarm and disbelief, blinking as though he couldn't fathom what he was looking at. "YOU FOLLOWED ME! Immortan Testing me!" He gasped suddenly, nearly dropping the basket before shoving it into Slit's hands to storm toward her.
Screams erupted from behind her. The others scrambled for Capable, certain the War Boy meant harm, and forgetting to stay hidden for the sake of their sister.
"Wait, wait! War Boy, stop!" Capable held out her hands and staggered back at the pull of hands behind her. They could run. But War Boys were fit and quick, and they could catch her.
Slit nearly fell over from the force of the basket shoved into his arms, and leaned hard into the wall to keep his balance, staring at the pack of girls, stunned.
"Told you I wasn't lying, Brother!" Nux hissed with delight, rocking from one foot to the other as though waiting for her to try to dart by him. "Birds out of their cage! This is what that was about! Should have known! Diligent, ever diligent! Immortan will be so pleased!"
"We have to go back!" Cheedo pleaded, a sob twisting in her throat. "Please, let's just go back!"
"No, it's just two boys." Angharad stood tall, even as The Dag ripped free from her hands.
Capable felt her stomach flip, and her blood ran cold. Keep them here. Engage them. Don't let them run off to tell.
"An' what shiny birds they are…" Slit finally said, his grin returning as he put the basket down and gathered up the linen he'd stuffed into his pocket.
"Please...you don't understand, War Boy. You don't understand what He does to us."
"Breeds you, o'course!" Slit's grin only grew as he brought the linen to his mouth, and breathed in. Glory be, but they were chrome. Clean and perfect, just the same. The women of the Citadel were nothing like them.
"And he will reward us when we bring them back!" Nux reminded Slit, but the moment he had glanced away, the pale-haired woman suddenly leaped at him, screaming like a vicious animal, a rock gripped tightly in her hand as he suddenly saw stars.
"Dag, no!"
Slit moved quickly, as if by reflex, to snatch the pale Wife by her long, powdery hair, wrenching her around to bring his knife to her throat. "Easy there, girl! All you birds keep still!"
"You won't do it! The Immortan will kill you if you damage her!" Capable snarled, panic charging hot through her veins.
"Please, let her go!" Cheedo sobbed, and went to her knees as she reached for The Dag's skirts. "Please, we'll go back! You can take us!"
"Cheedo, stop it! He won't do it!"
Nux groaned, rubbing his head as he gathered himself up from the ground. There was blood on his fingertips. With a snarl, he snapped his teeth at the pale-haired one, but even in Slit's grip, she merely hissed back.
"Should have hit him harder," Toast growled, eyes already scanning for a possible escape.
"We're just walking to the Garden," Angharad said casually. "We are to meet our Husband there. Be on your way, War Boys."
"We'll escort you!" Nux snapped. His head still ached. A trick, it had to be a trick. But there were five of the things, and only two of them to deal with them. "Hold that one tight. And YOU. You won't trick me again!" His irate attention was turned immediately to Capable, lunging to grab her arm.
Capable reeled back, caught by the wrist even in the haste of her retreat, and braced against the War Boy's grasp. Blue eyes. Blue and cruel, just like His. She'd known better from the start, thinking this boy was anything different. That glimpse of sweetness was nothing. She'd thought Joe was sweet, when she was just a child, when he seemed like a doting father. And her eyes glossed, nostrils flared, as she lashed out at the War Boy with a blind fist.
Slit readjusted his grip on Dag, coarse laughter rattling from his chest as he pinned her back against himself, and brought his blade toward her eyes, forcing her head back onto his shoulder as he pulled the scent of her hair into his nose. It was thrilling, being so close, touching them, smelling them, and his grin split over his discolored teeth at the unimaginable privilege.
"Maybe knock 'em out, eh, Nux? Got lots of linens to tie 'em up in."
Nux kept a firm grip on the woman's wrist, dodging and wincing with each blow, "Yes, yes, good idea! NO! No cannot harm them!" His brain was spinning. They couldn't just hit them, they could bruise! "Hold STILL!" Ignoring her flailing fists, he scrambled to grab the red head's other arm, but Toast was already diving for the Dag's fallen rock. "RICTUS! GET RICTUS!" Nux was suddenly howling at the top of his lungs, voice resonating down the corridor.
"Don't!" Angharad grabbed Toast's wrist, stopping the younger woman from swinging the makeshift weapon, "They're ignorant- This was a false end, come what may." There was bitterness in her whisper, but Toast seemed unconvinced.
The Dag suddenly sank her teeth into Slit's arm, "KILL THEM NOW AND WE CAN RUN!"
"HRNNH!" Slit braced against the bite, and only held on tighter as he swung around to pin The Dag to the wall long enough to twist her around and throw her over his shoulder. Feather-light. So thin and shiny, like a crow's wing bleached out by the sun. "I like this one, Nux!" Slit laughed, and stepped toward the other girls, Cheedo flinching back with a yelp.
Capable's eyes were wide and full of frenzy as the War Boy snatched up her other arm and held her firm. If they could do nothing but submit, it didn't mean they had to do it without defiance. She sucked her own tongue, gathering all the moisture she could, and spat into the War Boy's face.
Nux flinched back with a snarl, raising his hand instinctively, but stopped himself just in time. Mark one of The Immortan's wives? He would be lucky if the punishment was simply Death Mundane. "YOU ALL STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" He bellowed, wiping the mess from his face on Capable's shoulder before shuffling his grip to start undoing his belt. "Bind her up, Slit!" He shouted back, even as The Dag kicked and snarled, trying everything in her power to wriggle away.
Angharad thought quickly, eyes scanning, heart racing. The only direction to run was back the way they came or past the War Boys toward the center of the hive. The plan had been dependant on one factor, a factor that had been changed. It was a failure from the start. They could knock the boys out and try to work the door, pray their commotion hadn't raised any alarms, but who knew what was coming any moment around that bend? Pups and Dogs hungry for a head pat from their Master.
How could she not pity them?
She could try to reason with them, but what reasoning could sink into their programmed skulls? People would only get hurt. They couldn't kill them. "Put down the rock, Toast." They could run now, while their hands were full… but no. They would all escape together or not at all. They'd find another way.
Cheedo sniffled, still tense and trembling at the thought of what the War Boy would do with Dag. But things had gone still, Angharad was calm, and the young girl slowly stood, bracing herself against the wall.
"Just...just take us back...to the gardens. We'll go...we'll go, won't we, Angharad? Please?"
Slit kept The Dag draped over his shoulder, eyeing the girls a long moment. He didn't trust they wouldn't bolt, but the alternatives meant doing them harm. Unforgivable. The Immortan would hang them by their toes off the cliff face.
"Straight to the gardens...Then we find the Immortan."
"Are they even allowed in the gardens?" Nux hissed back to his Brother, giving Capable's wrists a yank as he tightened the belt around them behind her back, "Are we allowed in the gardens?"
Capable could hardly contain her panic and rage as Nux twisted her round, but forced herself not to struggle. The look in Angharad's eyes told her everything. All was lost. No point in fighting. And it chipped away at their fragile hope.
"We are when we're the ones kept these treasures from escaping!" Slit snarled. "Rictus or an Imperator finds us first, these things'll spin whatever story they want! Rictus'll crack our skulls without asking questions!"
"Yes… YES! Yes, we'll find him ourselves! Bring them in ourselves! He'll invite us to sit at his table! He'll be in our debt! We'll be heroes! Aaah, you thought you were so clever, didn't you!" Nux shoved Capable over, digging in the linens for something else to tie up the rest, grabbing for Cheedo next to bind her wrists as well. "No running! If you know what's good for you you'll be good little Treasures! What luck! What a day!"
Cheedo yelped as her red-headed sister crashed to the floor without the aid of her hands to catch her. Cruel and thoughtless of the War Boy, whose rough hands forced her own into the tight wrap of linens. Everything would be alright. They would go to the gardens, and the Immortan would forgive them. She would plead, if she must, would run into Joe's arms and kiss his cheek and tell him how sorry she was.
Slit didn't release the pale Treasure until he, too, joined Nux in the chore of binding the birds, moving between them until each one was robbed of the use of her hands. He hauled the fallen one back up to her feet, lips pursing at the sight of blood sliding from her nose. She flinched back, but he squeezed hard on her arm, holding her still as his free hand moved upward, thumb gently wiping the evidence of harm away.
"That's the one that did it, Brother! Thought she could trick me! Be careful of that one!" Nux babbled, testing the knots that strung the prisoners together before giving the linens a tug. "Thought you were so clever! Make a fool of ME! Maybe he'll give me those Parts I've been missing- maybe fresh tires!" While he was day dreaming of the possibilities of their rewards, Nux hardly noticed the sounds of footsteps thundering toward them.
"You really kissed him?" Slit asked, and his grin never seemed to fade or falter, even as the red-head's eyes burned across at him, green as the gardens.
His answer came with a shuddering below from behind, and he whipped around, only to see Rictus and a pack of War Boys charging down the tunnel.
"We got 'em! Got 'em for Immortan Joe!" He tugged Capable around as if to show her off, elation in his tattered face. "They were tryin' to run!"
Rictus was red-faced as he and his cohorts barrelled their way down the hall, and the Wives were powerless to do anything but glare defiantly. "Not s'posed to be out of their room!" He turned a wild-eye down to the laundry strewn about the floor, tying them together, and the two bright-eyed young War Boys next to the empty basket. "That is not how Laundry goes!"
"Come on, you lot," A less simple-minded War Boy pushed his way past his prince, grabbing the makeshift linen rope from Nux's hands.
"We caught 'em! They tried to be tricky but we caught 'em!" Nux bounced around his superior, ducking his head with a reverent salute to Rictus while the tower of a young man stepped along the line of women, taking account, mouth moving as he very very carefully counted them. Yes, all there- "Oooy, wait, this one's got red on!"
"Er, I think she was born that way, sir," Castrol, who was used to working with Rictus, offered patiently.
"No, RED." A thick finger was run under Capable's nose, the blood that smeared there flicked at his cohort as it was pointedly shaken. "WHO HURT DADDY'S THINGS?"
Slit went tense, eyes darting over to Nux as cold dread gripped his gut. But it was Capable, who actually looked at him, and jerked her jaw at the War Boy.
"He pushed me."
Three words. That was all it took to seal Nux's fate, and Slit hardly had time to react when the behemoth snatched his Brother by the throat and slammed him against the wall.
"Castrol! You'n that one take 'em back!" came his growling order, and Slit looked to the other War Boy with hesitant unease.
"Wait! I was just helping!" Nux yelped, but his voice was cut off in a tight wheeze as the wind was knocked out of him. "She… she tricked me!"
"C'mon, Boy," Castrol murmured, elbowing Slit and giving the wives a tug as though guiding a herd of spooked horses.
Slit swallowed down the instinct to hurl himself at Rictus, his blood boiling at the sight of Nux in the brute's grasp. He'd suffered the young man's temper before, and his cheeks ached at the memory, reluctant to turn his back on what he knew would be a bloody beating.
He turned angry eyes on Capable. Rat. A red-haired rat. And she glared right back at him as Castrol gripped one of her arms to guide her forward. The sound of Rictus' fist slamming into Nux's flesh, scuffling, yelping, all made Slit wince as he followed along, unable to bring himself to look back at what the Immortan's son was doing. The sounds were bad enough, and it would be a miracle of the Immortan's mercy if he didn't end up on Organic's table by the end of it.
"That boy doesn't deserve that," Angharad whispered.
"Sure did. That and more. They all do." The Dag sullenly hissed back.
"You could have said something," Toast's eyes drifted back to the eldest, not daring to look behind them as they were lead away.
"Quiet, all of you! Regardless of what happened, Immortan will NOT be pleased. And you," Castrol's attention went to Slit, "Once they're back locked up safe, you run them linens down below - not walk, RUN 'em down, you hear?"
"Yeah…" Slit grumbled, still glaring holes into the back of Capable's head, glad that Nux had made her bleed. She might be one of the Immortan's Things, one of his previous Treasures, but a bloody nose wasn't a fair trade for the punishment Nux received. Was still receiving, by the fading echos in the tunnels.
Capable said nothing. Torn. Segmented. Her thoughts warred with themselves over how she felt as every hard impact of Rictus' fists, and the cries of the War Boy beneath them, slid like poison into her ears. The boy wasn't Joe. Brainwashed, like all the rest, cruel because that was part of his world. She could have lied...could have said she stumbled and fell on her own, and spared him the pain he suffered now. Angharad had made her own opinion clear. He hadn't deserved it. He was kami-crazy. And Capable had been just as quick as him to be cruel.
When they reached the room, Slit worked alongside Castrol to untie each Wife, scowling bitterly as he pulled the belt free of the red-head's wrists, and snuck a swatch of linen into a pocket. A gift for Nux. He could tear it, burn it, whatever he wanted. It was about all the vengeance they'd ever get against the girl's trickery.
Everyone knew once Rictus started barreling, there was no stopping him. Let him get it out of his system. That was the only way, unless you had at least ten Boys ready to drag him off.
Nux was lucky to be alive.
After a good solid pummeling, the brute had grabbed the scrawny War Boy by his trousers, dragging his limp form into the Alter Hall where he had, somehow, managed to hang him up from one of the pillars by his remaining belts. "Make an example of you! What happens when you mess wif' Daddy's things!"
And left him there.
Bleeding and quiet, Nux could do nothing but hang and try to ignore the snickering Boys passing through. It was a misunderstanding… but what could he do about it? He'd live, that's what mattered. Figure out a way down after a nap, maybe. At least the hall had gone quiet for now, and all he could hear was the gentle pitter patter of his own Red spilling out. Oil leak. Get the sand. He almost laughed, if it didn't hurt to move.
There was work to be done once the Wives were secure in their cage, but Slit's stomach was in knots the moment he saw the bloodstains in the tunnels, the only evidence left of what had happened to Nux. Fury burned, his mind turning over all the gruesome possibilities in the extent of Rictus' punishment. If he had mangled Nux…
What could he do? Nothing. A great heap of fucking nothing, and he resented his own helplessness. The Immortan would have known better. Their Redeemer never would have reacted in such a way. He would have understood. He would have rewarded them. And if it wouldn't have sacrificed his place in Walhalla, Slit would feel less hesitation to find Rictus in the night, and push his blade deep into his damaged lungs.
But he had to content himself with waiting, and worrying, and brooding over Nux until the day's chores were done. He searched the Organic Mechanic's facility. Nothing. He checked their usual haunts, in case Nux had managed to drag himself somewhere safe. But when he found him in the Altar room, not hitched to a Blood Bag, but hanging by his belts, dripping blood, rage tightened in his gut.
"Nux! Hey, Nux!" He scaled the Altar, pressing rough fingers against the War Boy's neck. Still alive. Still warm. But his hand came back bloody.
A vague noise came from the boy, an attempt at words, but he was lost under the bruises and blood marring his white clay. At the touch, he flinched, and the vague noises turned into a tight whimper.
Slit's jaw clenched. "Alright, Below Boy...c'mon…" He braced himself against Nux, one arm hooking under him and grabbing hold of the Altar while his free hand brought his knife to the belt strap snagged over a pipe. Slit grunted as Nux's weight bore down on him, shuffling the position of his arm until he got the Boy draped across his shoulder.
It took longer to scale down to the floor. Each second felt like minutes. He wouldn't let Nux bleed out. Wouldn't let him die soft. Not for the sake of that treacherous red bird. Once his feet were squarely on the ground, Slit hauled him over to the line of Blood Bags, and unlatched every one, reading their tattooed backs until he found Nux's blood type, and hooked him up.
The world passed by in a groggy, sparkling haze. Nux found himself transfixed by the Wheels slipping past him as Slit carried him down, letting his limp, numb hand pass over them gently until they pulled out of reach. He tried to ask where they were going, ask if he was still in trouble, if it was time for supper, (not that he was hungry,) but he couldn't pull the words from his mouth. It was difficult to stay upright, and he could feel his Mates squeezing on his throat, making each breath slow and labored. Everything hurt.
A ball of emotion was wallowing in his stomach, conflicted, frustrated. Rictus. Hated him. Hated his stupid face, his stupid head, his stupid fists, but he was Kin to the Immortan. A demi-god himself. Untouchable. Served their Immortan far more loyally than any of them ever could- he was Blood of His Blood. Daft as the behemoth of a man-child was, whatever got into his simple mind was Law, like it or not. After a while, the world swam into a bit more focus, which unfortunately made everything hurt all the more. He could hear arguing, distantly.
"-Can't just come in here and hook him up without Clearance! Those Bloodbags are spoken for!" It was the Organic, irate about something.
"Wasn't gonna just let him die! There's blood everywhere! He needed it!" Slit argued with sharp gestures, his own clay flesh stained red. "Wasn't gonna chase your ass an' leave him to bleed out!"
The mechanic gave a frustrated noise, throwing his hands up, "It's coming out of YOUR rations to refill the thing. Fine. Unhook him the moment he's coherent."
"Sss… Ssslit?" Nux's head lolled, trying to focus on the more familiar of the voices.
Slit rushed over to him, grabbing his wobbling head to steady it. "Almost tried to leave without me, you shit...eh? How you feel?"
"Like… hit by… War Rig," Nux laughed and immediately regretted it, hissing through his teeth as he tried to sit upright. "Alive. Unbroken." He groggily tested each limb to confirm. Everything moved still, which was what really mattered.
Slit stayed with him as the minutes passed, and spat venom with every word as he cursed Rictus, and the red-head. Immortan Joe deserved better than the likes of them. The world was not worthy, earthly Wives unable to give him fit and perfect children as they ought to. Instead they gave him creatures like Rictus, dim-witted and infantile and flawed. The Immortan would have rewarded them, if his Son hadn't ruined it all.
"I believe you," he finally added, after a good hour's worth of ranting. "About the kiss...How's it feel, anyway? Gettin' a Wife kiss?"
"Kiss?" Nux blinked, trying to recall. It seemed like such a far away thing, he had almost forgotten it entirely. How did it feel? After how things had panned out, he had fully intended on suppressing the entire afternoon and pretend it had never happened.
But that was right… before things had gone sour… they had been a lot better. "It…" He tried to remember, but winced again. What did it matter? It had been a trick. A trick that he fell for and had paid dearly for. A Kiss hurt. But at the time it had seemed a lot different… His brain ached, and it had little to do with Rictus' fists.
"Soft," He settled for. Whether this was a good thing or a bad thing was unclear, the word simply slipping from his swollen, scarred lips as the best explanation he could muster. "Warm? Inside."
Slit's lips screwed, uncertain of Nux's description. The closest comparison he had was the fire that stoked in his belly when he was angry, heat in his ears. Adrenaline. A Kiss was something like that, he guessed. At least, if it came from a Wife. He never felt those things when the Matrons kissed him as a pup. It was hard to remember anything but poison, pain, and rage when it came to his festering insides.
"Hm…" was all he had to offer on the subject of Kisses, and reached into his pocket to pull free the long white linen he stole. "Here. Kept it for you."
Clumsily, groggily, Nux reached for it, holding it between his hands for a moment as his mind churned over the afternoon, and finally settled on using it to mop at the blood and sweat on his face and arms before handing it back. "Torch it. Trouble if we're caught wif' it."
"Feelin' good enough yet?" Slit took the bloodied rag and stuffed it into his pocket again. There'd be a chance to burn it tomorrow. Or keep it for himself.
Nux grunted with a faint nod. Good enough. He didn't like sitting in the Organic Mechanic's hall for long. He'd spent enough time here when his tank naturally started to run dry. "Laundry duty… Almost died on Laundry Duty. Pathetic."
Slit smirked, and clapped Nux on the back before helping him to his feet, tugging one of his arms around his own shoulders to anchor him as they walked. "At least it wasn't schlanger duty, eh?"
He braced an arm around his Brother, and lead him to the Den of Pups and Boys, all quiet or in the midst of bedding down for the night. And he hated Rictus as he eased Nux down onto his old cot mattress, hated the Red Bird for giving him an excuse, hated the twisting feeling in his stomach at the sight of Nux's face, all cuts and bruises and swollen flesh. There was no sleep waiting for him as he eased down beside him rather than lying in the tarp hammock above. Knew it helped Nux, ever since they were pups, having him there within arm's reach. Helped when the night fevers hit. Even if it was always Slit's back turned to him, for whatever reason beyond Slit's understanding, it helped. And he fumed and festered on his thoughts as they lay in the dark, lingering on fantasies of tearing Rictus apart, and beating the Red Wife until she was just as bloody as Nux. Impossibilities. He'd never touch either of them, for the sake of his father, the Immortan. Someday, they would be rewarded…
Someday, it wouldn't feel like it was all for nothing.