Not much to say, really. This is AU. I try to remain as faithful to George Miller's world as possible. Anyway, this is rated M for a reason. I don't take the high ratings for laughs.
If you enjoy, please let me know in a review or PM. Also, I'm looking for a Beta reader ^^
Deviate, an apprentice doctor of The Rebels, head of group 2, balanced on the balls of her feet on a rock. She was a good fifty feet from the ground, but she seemed unperturbed. At first glance, it would be hard to recognize her as a woman with the way she was dressed: long vest to her feet; gloves covering her young hands; a mask covered her face. Her newly developed curves barely showed beneath that outfit. Her long blonde hair was tied up in a knot, preventing it from becoming a distraction as the wind blew. In one of her hands, she held binoculars to control what laid before her.
She was eighteen now. Far too young to be a part of something this dangerous, but she had made her choice when Doctor Lamp took her in at the age of twelve after the sadistic Immortan Joe killed her family. Ever since, she swore she'd do something to help The Rebels overcome his misplaced power. For years she was taught by him to know how to deal with nasty wounds and dying comrades, but she was still too inexperienced to be called a doctor herself. She was getting better. She had to.
It had paid off as well. She'd risen in ranks quickly. She smiled slightly at the thought of what Chief Nesser would think of this. Weak little girl my ass.Deviate's jade colored eyes softened and saddened as she let out a small sigh. What if this ultimate plan wouldn't work? She had tried to tell herself that such a thing was possible. Her mentor had died trying to get vital information to them as to whether or not this was the right time.
Six months ago, Immortan Joe captured a certain man. One whose tales crossed lands. The worst being that he now worked for the tyrant himself. If what the rumors told about that man were true, something was wrong. He valued freedom, and roamed the earth in search for something else. Surely, not Immortan Joe.
Now they were off to settle a deal with him. She just hoped he wouldn't be foolish enough to say no. After all, he was known as a clever man. Deviate expected peaceful negotiations.
She tensed slightly as the head of her group signaled her to go down the hill as a car coming from the Citadel approached the gap below.
What a set of sad circumstances Deviate found herself in as she managed to lift her heavy and painful head from the stone floor. Was it stone? The cold hardness below her cheek for the last hour screamed yes, in a most ungentle way. How the hell did she pass out so rapidly? She couldn't even remember what had led to that.
You're a fool, she admonished inwardly.
Her loud groan echoed off the stone walls around her, bouncing back to mock her pain.
"Damn it, damn it."
The irony of it was almost laughable, if laughing wouldn't have hurt her head at that moment. A bargain and her own choices had landed her in the direst situation of her young life. Silently, she prayed that she was trapped in a dream but knew it was foolish to wish that. This was real. It was as real as it gets. The large throbbing goose egg hidden under mounds of long blonde locks reminded her over and over that she had made her own bed on this one.
Deviate's stomach hitched as waves of nausea crawled through her, but she wouldn't be sick. No, I won't be sick in here. Lying back down on her back, the coolness of the hard rough floor was almost a relief as she held the sore side of her head to it. The chill went right through her long vest. Fighting hard to keep the spinning sky at bay, she breathed slowly, vainly fighting to convince her insides that this was not the time to lose it.
Lifting her hands up, she took in the bindings around her slender wrists.
Useful and calculating in its design, the restraint was obviously meant for people not being able to move at all. The leather straps crisscrossed over the wrists keeping them immobile. So much for peaceful negotiations.
The position she lay in became uncomfortable and her shoulders ached with the strain of her wrist positioning. But, she didn't have much longer to dwell on it as footsteps drew near.
It was midday, a dirt filled canyon and many, many pale men engaging her group of determined rebels. But Deviate had a different target. He'd been her target for a while since she was put in charge of a mission to get to him. She wasn't here to fight.
When the moment came to put her plan into action, she found him among the fray. His strong face looked at hers from time to time as the fighting scene unfolded. There was only animal coldness, like something contemplating how easy it would be to kill you rather than waste time in a pointless fight.
There'd been many times she'd felt fear, many times she'd made it through it, but this time was so much worse. Just say the words, she told herself, let the chips fall where they may.
"I have a proposition for you, Max," and with that she threw away her gun, accentuating her will.
He felt her let up and immediately he was on her, the tip of a blade pressed into her throat. The warm line of blood slid down her skin as she waited to see if he would respond or end her life. Such a foolish gamble. Those few seconds seemed like an eternity as her life began to flash before her.
But he just looked at her, cold, impassive, blank. He definitely had the body of a fighter, and his scarred face was proof of that.
The compulsion to ask him again was playing in her thoughts, but the blade pressed to her neck so tightly made her worry that even speaking would slit her throat. She resisted even the urge to swallow. His hand was clamped on the back of her neck as the cold steel lay across the plane of her throat.
The dark man's face was still unreadable, but for a moment his hand loosened.
"Five seconds," he said in a deep low voice.
"I'm a doctor, trained by Doctor Lamp. I'm the best you'll meet. I know Immortan Joe has you on a tight leash with a device planted on your body that will kill you as soon as you try to leave a five mile perimeter around the Citadel or when your blood stops being viable. I'll help you if you help us destroy Immortan Joe."
Was that longer than five seconds? Her mind shrieked it as her eyes scanned his forehead. The two scars on it became incredibly interesting to her as she tried so hard not to look into those hauntingly dangerous eyes. The rise of her chest was telling as she began to shake in his grasp. Never before had she felt so close to death.
"Hmm," he smirked.
She turned briefly. The head of her group was glancing at her with some strange fear amid his own battle. Time was running out. They were counting on her.
"Is it a deal?" she breathed out carefully.
"How do you know my name?" There was no emotion in his voice.
"Everyone has heard of mad Max," Deviate replied, unsure that adding his nickname was wise.
He finally let go and took two steps back. "Nux," was all he said.
"Nux..?" Deviate began to say, but a crash rang through her head and body bringing everything to darkness.
Now, as the door swung fully open ahead of her, casting the yellow glow of man-made light across the floor, she squinted at the shadow brushing towards her. Tension rose in her as he approached until he was right in front of her prone, straining form on the stone floor.
Deviate raised her bound hands to her face, hoping to thwart the blow she half expected him to give her. That cold nothingness filled Max's face as he bent to look at her.
"It's a bargain, girl, but if you don't do as you said or you break our deal, I'll kill you."
"I believe you," she whispered, trying to hide the obvious fear trickling along her body and glowering in her light eyes. She had expected to be dead by now, actually.
"Good," he seemed to smile, but it wasn't friendly.
Even if feared filled her senses, she had to make sure of one thing. "I need proof that you're in this as much as I am."
His eyes flickered briefly. "Hm?"
"The device that he put inside you has to be tracked by a certain instrument, so I can know its precise location and remove it," she gained courage with every word she spoke. "I'm sure the crazy doctor you have here has it. Get it for me, and I'll know you're serious."
Silent hung between them for a moment. He was definitely considering her terms. Then she spoke again. "Is Immortan Joe here?"
"No."
"Why not?" She asked with surprise.
"Hunting for new breeders," His answers were honest.
Her head began to throb again from the blow someone had delivered on her head. "Why did you hit me?"
He snorted. "I didn't."
Another shadow passed through the door and Max stood and turned away from her, giving his attention to the other man.
"You hit her too hard, Nux," he said quietly, no tone of anger, just indifference. "She has valuable information about The Rebels."
"If she's a doctor, she'll find a way. Why do you care? They are scum who deserve nothing better," the pale boy growled low and gravelly.
"Hmm," Max said.
Even in the dim half-light of the open doorway, Deviate could see the pale boy's sickly sadistic grin bending the skin around his mouth. What had she gotten herself into? The question seemed to ring over and over in her mind as she watched the conversation end and the two men leave.
Now, the pain began to free her from her mental burden for a little longer as the darkness overcame her once again.
As her eyes cracked open this time, it was light in the small cell she was in. The walls and floors were gray, hard and dull. The door was indeed metal and had no window. It appeared to have a slot at the bottom on hinges, likely for pushing food in and out of the room. There was a wire-framed bed, typical of a jail cell, with rusty springs. A striped bedroll was rolled up on it and she hoped that it was clean. A small oil lamp burned on the wall near the door. There was a toilet, and a drain in the floor. For what, she couldn't be sure. Maybe it was to wash away the gore after a messy execution?
That isn't helping, she told herself.
Managing to sit up, Deviate was startled by the figure at the other side of the room, which she hadn't taken in yet. The man sat on the floor, unmoving. His pale skin was tinged a muted skin tone in the orange glow of the lamp fire. His eyes watched her every movement and that same dark smile was on his mouth as if it was still there from the last moment she looked at him.
"I've been waiting for you to wake up. It's been twelve hours, scum."
Twelve hours? The fear shook through her body again. How come she slept for so long? Wait… who was he? It wasn't that Nux boy from before.
"Why?" she whispered. Why was he sitting here staring at her? Without any ability to control it, she began to shiver as if the floor had turned to ice. Maybe it was infection fever? Maybe it was blinding fear, who knew? This man wouldn't be here to hurt her, would he? He would have killed her in her sleep, right? Maybe it wasn't as fun, she cringed inwardly as the sadism spread across his scarred face.
That isn't helping, she reminded herself again.
"So, rebel, I'm curious about the information you have. The blood bag genius seems to think you'll be useful somehow." He chuckled his delight at having such a play toy in his grasp.
"I'm telling you anything," she managed in an audible tone while swallowing down her fear.
His laughter filled the stone room, bouncing off the walls and invading her skin, creating painful ripples of fear. He must have seen it on her face because he laughed harder.
"I love your fear, rebel. No, you aren't telling me anything, but it doesn't mean I don't get to punish you." His tone turned softer, but no less deadly.
Her eyes snapped to his dark menacing glare and she began to shake her head in understanding of what he meant to do.
Standing up in a fluid simple motion, he man approached Deviate slowly, enjoying the way she tried to shrink into herself to avoid his incoming grasp. His strong hands grabbed her brown shirtfront and pulled her to her feet. The pain filled her body from being immobile on the stone floor for so long. Such a sudden shift in positions made her wince more loudly than she would have liked.
"He returns tomorrow. Maybe you'll recover your strength by then." His gruff intonation was so nonchalant it was almost humorous. He grinned as his hand cocked back and flew towards her face. In that split second before the heavy blow would take away consciousness again, only one thing ran through her mind.
Shit.
Let it be a dream, just a horrible nightmare I'll wake up from when that door opens, she prayed silently. Lying frigid and in extreme pain, Deviate tried, in vain, to shift her body. Every movement caused shocks of anguish to ride through her. Bastard, she gritted her teeth as she thought of his pointless beating. Just once. He'd hit her just once and she'd been knocked out cold.
He didn't seem like he wanted to hurt her for fun, well, not completely. It almost seemed like he was testing her. He hit her face once, and once only. Sadly, that was all it took to injure her cheekbone. If she could see in a mirror, she'd imagine that her eye was probably full of blood too. The socket felt damaged and the area around it was swelled and pained enough that it was impossible to touch. There was also a cut down her right arm, but she didn't remember how that happened.
Straining a little, Deviate managed to lift her head from the floor and turn enough to see feet pass in front of the doorway, breaking the small light with its shadow. Just as it had before, her heart sped up and the adrenaline stole a little of the pain for its fuel. She couldn't help the small helpless noise that escaped her lips as the doorknob turned and the light began to cut a path over the dark stone floor.
Max.
Damn it. Another day passed, she marveled inwardly. Three days gone, and it seemed like only blinks of conscious and unconscious as they passed.
This was probably it, her mind screamed; Max would come to kill her now. His steps were slow, measured and sure. He came straight towards her and stopped short of a step. One more and he would have kicked her sick stomach. Actually, she waited for the blow to land.
But so far he hadn't acted, he just stood there and she was afraid to look up at his face. After a while, he crouched low in front of her. Reacting to his movement, Deviate's hands lifted, still bound in front of her face for what small protection she could give herself. She knew her hands were shaking but she didn't care. Maybe he wouldn't want to touch her blood? Yeah, right.
Somewhere in her mind, she figured he was going to make good use of that drain in the floor now.
"Look at me, girl," he said in a low, unreadable tone. It was as emotionless as the creased line that passed for his mouth.
She could only make a small sound of pain as she kept her eyes shut, bound hands shaking above her. It was then that the heat of his hand clung around one forearm, but not harshly, not to hurt her. He lowered her hands away from her face, and he felt like fire against her freezing skin. Another small noise of pain escaped her, but in more of a hiss this time.
A second figure entered the room behind his figure, and Deviate could tell by the way her back straightened, that it was the man that had hit her yesterday.
"Useless rebel," he almost laughed, "It would be my pleasure to kill her for you. I doubt she has any information."
"Look at me, girl. Now," Max said again with a hint of assertiveness, but no malice.
With some curiosity of how she'd managed to live past the first few seconds of his entrance, she lowered her hands to look up at him. Bright eyes stared down at her.
"Why did you hit her?" he asked the man, his eyes still focused on the pained girl.
"Unlike you, I have no sympathy for those rebels. They should all be blown to bits."
"She won't tell us anything if you keep beating her, Fly."
The tall man stood there staring at the Max's back. Max was so calm, so close to a whisper that Deviate was misunderstanding the situation a little bit. Was he angry?
"Again, she can't be beaten like the others."
Something was escalating; she could feel it.
"You overestimate her, blood bag. She should be killed," he growled.
"I overestimate you. Maybe I should kill you."
Something strange happened at that moment. Max was no longer in front of her, but beside that man. He was doubled over and blood dripped on the floor.
"Get out."
The man called Fly looked up at him with a mixed look of something between pain, anger and apology. The last emotion seemed the weakest, of course. Slowly, he hobbled towards the door, a low growl trickling out of his throat. But it wasn't directed at his partner, it was directed at Deviate.
But the anger died fast as Max turned back to face her, a bloody blade held in his hand and an impassive look on his face. He was the sort of man who could stab a war boy and not blink twice.
His steps moved him towards her as she struggled to move away.
Maybe this was it? And death was creeping up with quiet feet.
She closed her eyes.
Deviate couldn't take her eyes off the blade dangling loosely in his fingers, tinged with Fly's blood. The deep red tint made a hot flash of adrenaline run through the young doctor as he approached where she lay.
He stopped momentarily to wipe the blood off the silver weapon using the bedroll, which was still rolled up on the rusty makeshift bed. The fabric ripped with the touch of the extremely sharp blade dragging across it.
Turning his attention to the shivering girl, Max squatted in front of her, gripping her hands and lifting them up towards him. Deviate hissed audibly as he clutched her wrists, observing the bindings.
"Your wrists are bruised," he said quietly.
"Yes," she managed to whisper out from her dry lips and parched throat.
She couldn't be sure if it was her tone or what she said that made him pause, but his movement stopped abruptly. Coming back to himself, he used the blade to cut the restraint away from her clasped wrists, easily tugging the leather away from her.
"Did he break anything?" Max sounded curious, rather than concerned. She doubted if concern was even possible for him.
"I don't think so," she answered, trying to rub the angry red marks left on her wrists by the restraints.
It seemed that he thought on that for a moment as well, but his face was unreadable. She noticed he had a bag on his back.
Max stood up as she rubbed her legs trying to get heat, but two pained hands were not enough.
"Stand up," he directed as he stepped back.
Making a marked attempt, she knew that lying on the stone floor for two days made it impossible. Her body was cramped, sore, and what she might even term as 'seized up' with the cold she'd lay captive of for so long.
"I…I…" Admitting that she couldn't was something she really didn't want to do. She didn't want to sound weak to him.
Without making her answer fully, Max bent and scooped her up. The sensation of being held in a killer's arms was so strange that she tensed her body in an attempt to weigh nothing. Resisting the urge to lay her tired head on his shoulder, she forced herself to remain unmoving in his strong hold. But he was warm, warmer than anything she had ever felt. The frigidity of the floor had managed to saturate her with the chill, right down to her bones. Even through his leather jacket, she could feel his heat.
Max carried her out the door of her 'cell' and down a long stone hallway.
Pushing open another door, he entered wordlessly and set Deviate down on her feet. Two hanging lamps on either side of the door flooded the room in warm light. There was also a decent sized bed on the other side of the room. A solitary bedside table held a half-burned candle.
Letting her try to stand of her own volition, Max kept his arm wrapped around her waist as she limped to sit on the bed. The entire time, Deviate avoided making eye contact with him.
The bed was soft under her, and she sank into it without falling, fighting the urge to lie back and sleep. Shocking her a little, he took a seat as well. His warm fingers gripped the underside of her face, gently angling it towards him. He was so close that had he been a friend, she might have thought he was going to kiss her.
"You're close to hypothermia. You also have a concussion."
Deviate just nodded feebly against his fingers. Was that a smirk? She tried hard not to look at his face.
"Your eye is filled with blood." His gaze dropped to her bloody arm. "This needs to be fixed."
Listening to the large number of words he was letting fall from his mouth, Deviate was sort of stunned with the one sided banter. Strange really, she imagined he'd say almost nothing, much like her mental picture of him. His voice was rough, though.
Yes, he was right, she needed to see to her arm, but the overwhelming sleepiness was getting too close behind her eyes. Maybe just a few more hours sleep. A concussion? This was most likely the reason for the lack of alertness, but perhaps if she slept, she'd die. The possibility occurred to her, but just didn't sink in.
Lifting her hand to fully take in her arm with her half lidded eyes, she got another shock as she felt his hand grab onto her wrist. He turned and tugged her body close to him. Her chin banged his shoulder as her chest crushed up to his jacket. Trying to ignore the comfort of his body heat, she gave a slight tug back. Her arm was suddenly wrenched under his and the realization of his intention became clear as his arm pinned hers to his body.
Grasping feebly at his back, she twisted his jacket as she felt the first soft touches along where the deep cut began.
"Please, don't," she begged, "Don't…"
Immediately, she felt him rub something on it and amid her pained shriek, she feared he might make things worse. As the endorphins rushed to the injury, blood flooded through her body at an impressive speed. Her arm throbbed and pulsed in agony. Deviate thought for a moment that she might pass out. All of a sudden, she felt his warmth under her cheek finding herself collapsed against his back while she tried to breathe through the nausea. Her other hand had grabbed his shoulder, but if it bothered him, he didn't let on.
His head turned slightly to look at her. At the angle she laid on him there would be no way to see her.
Again, his fingers passed over her wound again and she gritted her teeth. She made a small noise in anticipation of the excruciating pain about to happen. He ignored her as another jarring pain encompassed her arm, making white flashes dance in front of her eyes. She made a small shriek into the back of his shoulder as it happened. He didn't even flinch. She reckoned whatever he was using on her wound was meant to prevent infection and clean it.
It took three full minutes before Deviate found the constriction in her throat give way.
"I'm going to be sick," she whispered into his back. The waves of pain and nausea drove through Deviate's stomach and she resisted heaving. The lack of eating for so long was probably a huge contributor to her current condition, but there wasn't much she could do about that now. She just pressed her forehead against his shoulder and fought it. Throwing up on him was not a good idea.
Max immediately turned around and she collapsed forward without his body propping her up. He caught her by her upper arms and pulled her close so that their faces were almost touching. Deviate's eyes opened up to look into those eyes. Fear made her rigid in his grasp.
But suddenly, it didn't matter. Suddenly, nothing mattered. It was like floating on a warm breeze that lulled you to sleep. Nothing hurt, nothing was cold, and there was no nausea. It was all just nothing now.
Max watched the wide jade eyes close sleepily, glazed over with the drug-like effects of the liquid he had poured in her wound. She was still caught in his firm grasp, and he admired the way his ability engulfed her. This was all very knew to him.
Damn it, why do I keep waking up like this? Again she awoke to stone walls and almost utter silence, but at least this time no one was looming over her with the intent to kill her. That was a definite improvement, as was her quarters for the moment. The bed she was on was soft and larger than the rusty looking one in the last room. The heavy red blanket kept her warm and so she resisted moving out of the heated niche her body had carved in the feather mattress.
For the first time since Max manhandled her arm, she managed to take a look at it. It had a better color, even though the wound could still be seen, but it was definitely healing.
Stretching out her limbs a little, Deviate realized that a great deal of her body felt better. As she did this, she noticed something on her arm, a bracelet of some sort. Her fingers traced over it. It was a simple silver band, with various signs stamped on it. Admittedly it wasn't ugly or unattractive, but she began to wonder why it was there.
She tried to slide it off, but couldn't. It was too small to slip over her hand and there was no clasp that she could see. Strange, she mused. Turning it slowly around her wrist, she dropped into inner thoughts until she heard a sound in the room. How careless to not even notice someone else was there. Oh yeah, concussion.
"That is a tracking device," Max's voice drifted quietly through the room. She couldn't see him as he sat somewhere near the door behind the head of the bed.
"Why?" But she knew the answer.
"So I will know where you are at all times."
"Fine," she mumbled as she took great difficulty in sitting up and turning to look at him.
"You won't be able to remove it."
"I understand. Thank you for helping me with my arm," she added, but there was no tone of appreciation. Somehow, the fact that he had placed a tracking device on her made her feel angry. They shared a mutual interest, after all.
"You've been asleep for six hours. Has your nausea passed?"
Deviate took a moment to figure out if it had or not. Seemed for now she didn't need to throw up. But the tickle of hunger was making that change, little by little.
"I'm a little queasy," she replied.
"There is a glass of milk here." His eyes shifted slightly to beside the bed and just then she realized she had been looking into them. Quickly, she turned to look at the bedside table, which held a small tray with a glass full of white liquid.
Mother's milk, of course.
"Thank you," she said softly as her gaze remained on the floor. So as not to insult him, she tried to lift the tray from the table. Unfortunately, her previously wrists and still weak body prevented it and in a moment of shock, she could see it start to fall. Closing her eyes, she waited for the crash that never came.
As she opened them, Max was standing beside the bed, the glass in his hands.
How did he get so close so fast?
"I'm sorry," she said tiredly, her wide eyes drew to his glaring at her before she realized what she was doing. Her head dropped down with her realization.
The shift of the bed indicated he had sat down beside her, and she began to get a little nervous at his close proximity. She felt like she was the most defenseless she had ever been. Her body was sore, and without strength, she was virtually at his mercy. He set the glass of milk on her outstretched legs
Then she realized. "It's hot," she marveled.
"Drink," His voice was still quiet
Bringing the glass to her lips, her hand shook so hard that the milk almost spilled. Vainly, she tried to control her hand spasms, managing to get it near her mouth, but she hesitated. Poison, maybe it was poisoned or drugged? If she had thought hard enough about it, she might have realized that Max wouldn't need poison, but there was something preventing coherent thought right now.
He watched her. He made no move to leave while she tried feebly to drink.
As if he understood what she was thinking, and most likely he did, he cocked his head before speaking. "It's clean."
Her shaking hand still held the glass in front of her. She continued to hesitate.
Clearly losing his patience, Max grasped her hand and brought it to his own mouth, drinking. Deviate's eyes widen in surprise.
After quite a while, she drank the liquid in one shot. It spread throughout her body in a pleasurable way.
Max stood up then. "You're covered in blood. There is a sink in the bathroom. There's not much water, so don't waste it. Clean only the essential," He spoke as if he was reading a book. "Also, you have ten minutes before I come and get you."
"Why are you keeping me here?" She asked, almost not believing in all of these offerings.
He looked back down at her darkly before leaving. "Do you want to die?" The door snapped shut behind him.
What did you get yourself into? She thought angrily, realizing she was still hungry.
Sliding her legs out from under the heavy blanket, she felt dizzy and lightheaded. She teetered on her tired feet, managing to stand up, but winced from the freezing cold on her bare toes. Someone had removed her shoes.
She walked slowly to the door he had indicated and opened it, fully expecting to see Fly on the other side. But he wasn't there, just an open door across the hall with some steam billowing around a large sink.
The thought of taking off her clothes was frightening, but she really wanted to clean herself as fast as possible.
The boiler, heated by fire, sat just outside a window and she could see it seemed to be either early evening or early morning. With the hours of unconsciousness and the unfamiliarity of her surroundings, she was baffled as to what time it must be.
As she slid through the doorway of the bedroom, and into the bathroom, she noticed the band on her arm grew warm for a moment. Deviate took off her bloody and ripped vest to slide her hands into the steaming sink. The water calmed her almost immediately, and made her aching body so much more comfortable.
Taking a moment, she wondered if he had any plan on stealing the tracking device from the doctor. She had explicit orders not to help him if he didn't comply with the proposition, but he also didn't have much of a choice. As soon as his universal blood gets too poisoned by the atmosphere, the device will kill him even if he's an excellent fighter. Immortan Joe only wants people that can be useful to him, and Max would stop being one as soon as he got sick as well.
The water began to soothe as she washed her face and arms. Water was so rare to come by these days that Deviate just wanted to savor the feeling of it rolling down her body. There was soap and a towel on the floor. Her gaze rested on the small stool at the other side of the room and she saw what looked like dark pants and a white tank top. Those wouldn't surely fit her as she supposed those were meant for Max.
He truly is crazy if he thinks I'm going to wear that, she sneered inwardly.
She estimated that she had about five minutes left before he would come, so she grabbed the towel on the floor and started to rub the wetness off her body.
Looking at her wrist, the silver band had a blue hue glowing around it. "What does that mean?" she whispered.
"It means you're out of time," Max's voice said from across the room. He was leaning on the wall. His face was cold and unreadable.
As if her life depended on it, she covered her upper half. Thankfully, it was the only part of her body completely bare. Redness splattered across her face as she was filled with humiliation.
"I didn't realize I had taken so long," she said with placation. She kept her eyes on the towel, instead of his eyes.
"Yes, I noticed."
"If you leave, I'll be ready in a minute," she said as calmly as possible, somewhat pleased with the strength of her voice.
"I don't like to wait," he began. "We'll discuss the terms of our agreement again now."
"I'm half-naked!" she hissed, finally finding her embarrassment overcoming her fear.
"You aren't offending me," he said plainly.
"I'm not offe….this wasn't part of the deal," she pressed. Her eyes met his.
It wasn't like he was getting nothing from their deal. Maybe two could play this game? Really, she did have some leverage with the situation. "This is a bargain. You aren't doing me a favor. Can't I have a minute? I'd prefer to keep my dignity."
Silence rode through the room, making the air thick with intensity.
Max suddenly stood near the sink. His face was unreadable. He didn't seem angry, though. The adrenaline surged through her and she tried to remain calm. The fear was getting to her, as well as the pain and she turned away from him, covering herself with her arms as well.
"Is this what you want? You win. I'm scared. I'm damn well terrified," she said, her tone fraught with sarcasm. She let the towel fall on the damp floor, her chest exposed to him. Silence filled the room, and the waiting began to kill her. Curiosity on whether he'd kill her for crossing the line or drag her out first played in her pounding head.
But Max just stood there, no words, no actions, just a statue. When he finally moved, he bent and picked up the towel from the floor, handing it to her.
"One minute," he said in a low voice, then turned and left.
Deviate looked down at her wrist, the blue hue of the silver band died away as she just stood there in shock.
Holding her sore back now, she hobbled over to the steamed up mirror hanging over the sink. In the initial rush to get into the bath she'd forgotten to check her swelled face. Using the towel to wipe off the misty glass, she took in her bruised cheek.
The swelling was still profuse, and the blue-black-purple mess looked as painful as it felt. But it was the blood-filled eye that concerned her most. Her vision was still alright, but it still scared her. Damn war boys.
Her gaze finally pried away from the mirror and rested on the clothing on the stool. That top would be too large for her petite body. Its neckline probably wouldn't cover anything.
Drying off as best she could once more, Deviate threw the towel on the sink. Next she dressed in the pants, which didn't fit quite well, but it would do. The top was obviously too large and when she slipped into it, she realized she'd have to tie the hem into a big knot or her breasts would be completely exposed. She double knotted it out fear of the darker images that slid through her mind when she Max was in the bathroom. How long had he been there while she dried her exposed body?
A last rub of the towel went through her blonde locks before Deviate discarded the terrycloth to the silver rail near the sink
Pushing open the door almost too slowly, Deviate slid out of the small opening she made. For a moment, the band grew warm on her wrist as she passed the threshold. Standing beside the partially opened door, she could see Max standing in the room. He said nothing.
Sitting down on the bed, Deviate folded her hands in her lap. Her stomach suddenly felt much emptier. Unfortunately, three gulps of hot milk were not enough.
"It's time to work out the details of our deal, girl," Max began as he leaned against the wall. He looked like he could use a bath as well, in all honesty. He was covered in dust and dirt from head to toes. Apparently, that wasn't a priority.
Taking a deep breath, she tried to seem a little stronger than she was feeling. "Deviate," she said softly.
"Hmm?" Max seemed almost surprised.
"My name is Deviate."
He nodded. "Deviate, I've placed you in danger by bringing you here. Fly wants to kill you. But I believe you're true to what you have promised." Deviate could feel his eyes boring into the top of her head, but she resisted looking up.
She nodded a little. "Yes. I grew up seeing my mentor track that device inside people who fled the Citadel," She explained. "But you have to help our cause. Immortan Joe has to be stopped."
"How do you propose I do that?" Max asked quietly.
Deviate thought on that for a minute. She supposed the only true way to stop him would be to kill him. But she still needed to contact her superiors regarding that matter. For now, she didn't know how to answer him.
"You want me to kill Joe?" Max answered for her.
"I ask that you do whatever is necessary to get exterminate his ruling. Nothing more, nothing less." Deviate tried to be as vague as possible. It would seem wrong to let the dark deeds she expected from him to pass her lips.
"Very well," Max watched her closely.
Deviate nodded a third time, hoping that he would not push the issue any further.
"Then our deal is made," he said coolly. "But you have to take this off me."
Taking a deep breath, she figured he wouldn't move an inch without her proving her side of the deal as well.
Slowly, she looked up at his eyes. Was it to test that promise or just because her neck was hurting from looking straight down? Either way, he seemed true to his word for the moment. Her eyes went to the food from there and she found her stomach begging her to take something with small rumbles.
"Now, the rules," he began. "While you're here, you'll stay in in this room. You don't exit unless you absolutely must. If you need something from the outside, I'll try to get it for you."
Deviate looked at him with wide eyes, wondering if eventually she'd only be allowed to sit on a bed and think.
"That band on your wrist will allow me to know where you are." He reminded her.
"I know," she answered.
"I'm not finished. If anyone knocks or enters, you hide. Don't try to fight them." He still continued to act as if they were just two friends discussing a road map or something insignificant.
Deviate heaved a sigh again. "I still need that tracking device."
With a fast movement, he threw a bag at her. When she peered inside she saw a small metal rod."Was it that easy to steal?"
He just shrugged.
With no further announcement, he took of his jacket, and started stripping.
"Hey! What are you doing?" She asked, looking away from him.
No answer came, and when she looked back at him, he was fully naked.
"Let's begin." Was all he said.
Sorry for the long chapter. I got carried away! Hope you enjoyed!