I loved Fury Road, and the originals, and I wanted to see the adventures continue.

I do not own these characters.

Enjoy!

They called her "Evening", for her hair was as black as the night. She called herself "Eve". Sometimes, though, her husband called her "The Fruitless", because none of their sons lived to see the week's end. They had been riddled with disease, only because her husband carried it in his body. Sometimes the other wives were able to produce a healthy child. Yet her own were too weak. And so she was called "Fruitless".

She had been taken when she was just a girl, hardly of producing age. The first time she bled, The People Eater was notified, and she was taken from her home. She was taken from the boy that she had loved, the one that had promised her freedom. Promised her a life across the salts, where there was still green and water.

His name had been Sevan Rockatansky.

They had grown up together, side by side, playing in the sand and filth and smoke that consumed all of Gastown. They had learned to love and to hide and to dream together. They had never feared life, when together, under the protection of Sev's older brother. He had only been two years older than them, but a menacing creature despite it.

He had been brooding, quiet, dark. Occasionally taking hold of her black hair to give it a quick tug, or shoving Sev aside to scoop her up when she fell. He had been her protector, her watchful eye. He allowed little to happen to them.

He had allowed her the freedom to fall in love with his brother.

But at thirteen years old, while sprinting through her father's cavernous garage, Sev trailing close behind her in childish game of keep-away, and his brother watching closely, bullets had riddled the metal walls. Sevan had hit the floor instantly as the metal tore through the leg in his flesh, and his brother instantly lunged forward. He had grabbeda hold of the boy's collar and dragged him, whilst scooping up Eve.

Her body jostled against his chest, but she held him tighter, watching the sand kick up as the bullets tore a path behind them. At only fifteen years old, he had the body of a man, and she felt like a yearling against his body. He carried her with ease.

They broke through the garage door and he ran like a piston, Sev trying to use his good leg to keep them moving.

But the Gastown boys in their monstrous vehicles could not be outrun, and the brother was taken down after the third block. He had held her by the back of her shirt as they attempted to tear her from his grip. Her lungs hurt as she released ungodly screams into the air.

And once they had beat his arms raw, and his face bloodied, he let go, falling onto his back in the sand. Sevan lay in the sand, nearly lifeless, cradling his lifeless leg as best he could. And as the Gastown boys loaded up her into the back of the vehicle, she cried for the brother, watching out the dusted windows as he clambered to his feet and raced after them.

Yet he was buried beneath the sand and she was struck into unconsciousness.

Furiosa was named ruler of the Citadel after the lifeless body of Immortan Joe was devoured by the masses. There was no protest amongst the crippled city when she rose on the platform and sat down in what was once the throne of the man that "preserved" the people. Instead, they welcomed it, palms turned upward toward the skies. And she pulled back the levers and released the waters to run freely into the city.

The Wives, such chrome and pure creatures, took to aiding the nation, feeding and cleaning them, one by one. The Dag was keeper of the Gardens that resided in the stone walls of the Citadel, Capable watched over the flock of rigs and cars. Cheedo was swarmed by the yearlings, whom she fed and loved and comforted. And Toast and Furiosa watched over them all.

In the heat of the day, they worked. They designed a glorious water system, that ran into small troughs at the moment of the mountain. Enough to keep people sustained, yet not enough for others to find greed. Riots were kept at bay.

The people were finally allowed to make shelters, and tents and plastered sand began erecting on the grounds. Homes were finally formed once again.

Hope sprung eternal.

"Do you ever think he will come back?"

Furiosa lifted her gaze from maps that once belonged to Immortan Joe. Trading routes. Ones she was considering. She needed to form treaties with these neighboring cities. It was going to be rough, to say the least, but it had to be done.

It was these times she wished that foreign creature called Max had not slipped into the masses, away from it all. Away from her.

"I don't know," she huffed, smoothing down the corners of the maps. She swiped a hand over her forehead in frustration.

It had been three months since they had seized the Citadel, and the Wives never ceased watching the horizon, in hopes that the man named Max would return.

She never allowed herself hope. Not for the future, not for the Wives, not for his return. Too long had she suppressed any, too many times had any hope been smothered. It was hardly possible to muster any up these days. She became a creature made of steel. Solid and independent, like the rigs she drove. Nothing could penetrate her. She was untouchable.

"You'll need four bodies on the rig," Toast's voice floated from the doorway. She walked over to where Capable and Furiosa sat, hunched over maps, plotting. Always plotting.

She placed a finger on the route to BarterTown. "One driver, two shooters."

"And the third?"

Toast looked up at Furiosa. "Back-up."

"Aunty Entity is a ruthless creature. We don't have that man power now. We have to wait until the nation is healthier before we start building soldiers," Furiosa muttered, placing her head in her hands. "We don't have enough people."

"Us girls are not so incapable," Capable sang, leaning against the dirt wall.

"The Dag is out, with her baby still stewing," Toast said. "And we can't put Cheedo through that again."

Furiosa looked up at Toast, admiration in her eyes. "And you will need to stay here and look after the Citadel while I'm gone."

"We need a man," Capable said, pushing away from the wall. "We need Max."

Furiosa already knew this. She knew it all along.

She needed Max.

When she had heard of the uprising, she hadn't allowed herself to hope. A rig driver had made a run for it, with the Wives in tow. She had heard her husband speak of the woman. A female rig driver. He had never fancied the idea of a female behind the wheel. Never was he kind to her when he rolled into town in his brother's rig, trading water for gasoline.

The People Eater, her husband, told her of how the woman had been stolen when she was a child, with intentions to be a wife. But when she was found to be barren, Immortan Joe had cared too much for her to see her executed. So he turned her to the warlords and she was trained as a driver. And soon she was placed in charge of the gasoline rigs.

None of the men fancied a woman in charge.

But she had freed the Citadel Wives, and when her husband and his armies had departed from Gastown, all had gone silent for days.

She was not the only wife. There were two others. Honor and The Soft. Honor was a beautiful creature with skin so dark, she looked kissed by a hundred suns. She was a stubborn, yet loving being, and Eve often found comfort knowing she was near. The Soft was a quiet girl, with eyes that looked like the sky. She was younger than Honor and Eve, and so innocent.

"Do you think the Rig Driver will come for us?" The Soft had whispered late in the night, keeping her voice from being heard by the Gastown Warboys that guarded their doors. "We are wives. Do you think she has forgotten about us?"

"Hush girl," Honor had hissed, placing her dark hand against The Soft's light hair. "We shan't depend on others to rescue us," she leaned close to Eve's ear. "We must escape, while there are few Warboys keeping watch, and The People Eater being absent. This is the best shot we have."

Eve laid silently, staring up through the metal grates in their ceiling. The stars were bright that night.

"The husband hasn't been back in eighty three days. Do you think he's finally gone to the Gates of Valhalla?" The Soft whispered.

"Hush," Honor snapped.

"I hope he doesn't come back," The Soft placed a palm to her swollen stomach, a child growing beneath the skin.

Eve rolled onto her side, sandwiched between the two other wives. She wrapped her arms around The Soft's fragile body, pulling her in close.

"Tomorrow night," she whispered, looking over her shoulder at Honor. Honor scooted closer, lacing her arms around Eve's shoulders. "When the Warboys let us out to walk, we will fight them. They're growing weaker. We can escape through the east wing, and drive one of The People Eater's cars out of here. Make for the Citadel. They won't turn us down. The Citadel Wives won't let us. Toast the Knowing will give us safe haven."

Honor nuzzled her face into the back of Eve's neck, smiling. "Freedom," she whispered.

"Freedom," The Soft agreed.

Eve looked up at the stars, and prayed, prayed, prayed, until the sun finally began to rise.

Freedom.

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