My name is Vespa Rum. I have dedicated my life to everything that is shiny and chrome, and our supreme God King, Immortan Joe. The world has changed so rapidly, none of us can barely remember life before the Oil Wars and the Water Wars. Then, the Apocalypse happened. I was lucky to be one of the first War Boys Immortan Joe recruited when he became ruler of the Citadel. The only other woman who served was a recently promoted Imperator named Furiosa. She's a bit wet behind the ears, but she's got brains.
It's blazing out there in the Wasteland. The paint adorning my body and face is cracking, but that just adds to our other-wordly look.
I was tasked with two other War Boys, Wart and a new guy named Slit. Immortan wanted us to scout an area to the North. Supposedly there was an abanonded mine that later became home to a radical militia in the old world. We were to see if anything was salvageable, return to the Immortan, and then contact the Bullet Farmer to pick up the materials.
I headed out with Wart and Slit in my Jeep. I customized it as did all the other War Boys. Where there once was a white star belonging to a far off land once called America, I replaced with the sign of Immortan Joe. The V8 made sure enemies could hear us coming from miles away. Now that civilization no longer exists, the world is quiet, except for the sound of those V8s, and the cries of war parties.
We were escorted by two cyclers, just in case. In this world, it is killed or be killed. Drive or be driven over.
Wart manned the machine gun, Slit was our spearman. I carried the handgun known as USP. Thank you Brother Heckler and Brother Koch. Your mastery in the art of weaponry gives the War Boys a fighting chance. Most others rely on crossbows or other weapons. But now that we have assimilated the Bullet Farm into our military force, we gained the upperhand against all marauders and scavengers.
The wind in our face, we rode off towards this cache.
We approached a hilltop and slowed down. Slit handed me binoculars and I looked out. There it was. The mine.
But we weren't alone. There was a black V8 Interceptor parked near the entrance. A man in leather was loading up weapons and ammunition into it. Possibly food too, if they were military rations.
"Damn." I muttered. "We're going back to the citadel."
"Going back?" One of the cyclers asked.
"A vulture picked that cache." I explained. "I need to tell the Immortan."
The men looked at me nervously, but they trusted me. I always knew when to give commands. I may not be an Imperator, but I was more experienced than many of the War Boys.
That vulture, whoever he is. He will regret the day he took from Immortan Joe.
