The War Rig sailed over limestone dusted with clumpy, fat grains of sand. Belladonna could tell from the way the Rig shook that they were now far off from the beaten path. Erratic bumps and cracks in the earth made her bob in her seat slightly, like a rider perched on his horse.
Above her were audible paces going to and fro. Heavy and without rhythm, she could tell her war boys were confused. A slap on the driver door came three times and was followed by the tugs of someone strapping to her passenger window as Sun strung himself in place and peaked his head through her open window.
"Boss, we aint goin' to Dust Town? " Belladonna gave him a brief glance in response, keeping her eyes focused on the road. "Bullet Farm?" He stacked the extra question on and tried to lean into her view. Again, Belladonna kept her attention away from him, waving her hands around the dashboard as she shifted gears and flipped switches.
"We're heading east," she eventually mumbled. Sun watched her for more instructions but saw she was done talking to him and began climbing back to the Rig's roof.
"I'll pass it down the line." As Sun disappeared, Belladonna began to contemplate the road ahead. She would have to eventually kill them. Every one of them. Or at least get as many killed as she could from recklessness and then shot the stragglers.
It was brutal, for sure, but perhaps that was why it was fair. War Fangs only knew brutality, and that was the most they had to offer themselves.
There was nothing to the east for the war fangs but death. Hiker Bikers were guarding her way through the mountains, and they would need to drive through Buzzer territory first before they even got there. Whoever the Buzzers left alive would probably be picked off by the bikers if she just allowed it all to happen.
She looked back to the ceiling when she noticed the footsteps growing quite. They had settled down for the time being. Maybe they thought they were on a secret mission. They were waiting for her to pull over and tell them what kind of grave undertaking their leader (and God) had selected especially for them.
If it came down to it, she'd use that as cover to buy time. Whatever phony excuse she cooked up would work, no matter how ludicrous it sounded. They'd follow her to their deaths. They'd have to. She knew they already trusted her with their lives, and would gladly die for the cause they fantasized over. Lucky for them, death was just over the hillside, and she was stomping on the gas.
…
Chiseled out of a mighty mesa's side was a screaming skull that marked the kingdom of Citadel. This massive statue's under-bite hid a balcony made for the royal, situated at the zenith of the tower's view, where the regal could look down on the trotted, poor and deformed.
From up there, the family of Immortan Adam ruled over the levers that held back floodgates of crisp and clean aqua cola. But those inside had access to more than water. Mothers bloated from being forced to eat generous meals sat in uncomfortable seats of leather as special pumps extracted their mother's milk from them.
Immortan Adam stood in his palace oversighted this when he took up a jug of milk to sample. One whiff and he could tell the difference between the glass in his hand and the vile liquids of the sickly, who could not taint his precious drinks up here.
Before he could indulge in a swig, a series of howls resounded from the balcony that drew Immortan from his devices. Seated in a custom hanging seat was the always vigilant and trusted companion to Immortan; Canis Secundo, the corgi.
He wagged his tale and slobbered on the eyepiece before cocking his head to see Adam beside his perch. Shuffling up excitedly behind them both was a tower of a man, Yatsu Erectus. Barking excitedly, Yatsu listened in confusion to his fluffy companion of war.
"What's that boy? Belladonna aint going to Dust Town?" Adam pulled the slobber scented eyepiece to his face and wiped the lens clear as the corgi yapped some more. "She's headin' off road, to the east?"
Peering down the sight, Adam saw that Belladonna was in fact defecting from the road.
"Why would she do that, dad?" Yatsu asked the question earnestly as the hamster manning his brain gave up trying to make his wheel spin.
"Stop calling me dad, Yatsu," he said to the strange, giant man. Adam wasted no time as he began making a swift pace for his vault.
Despite being horribly old, the steel lock that guarded Adam's personal quarters was finer looking than anything else in the tower, forged back when the world was still alive. Inside, his most precious belongings were guarded from the filthy hands of the outside world. As he spun the massive turning lock open, his quarters were revealed to him and only him.
An oasis of greenery and rushing fresh water was inside, as well as Adam's most precious belongings. Stepping inside, he quickly began to take inventory. Adorning the walls and table tops all over were his most priceless and precious of salvaged treasures.
On many of his desks he displayed them; beautifully painted models from the Demongellion series, perfectly arranged in proper order. He had collected an entire set already, and another was on the way to being complete.
He had many posters and prints to check on, ones from the Red Exorcist and Attack on Colossus were coloring almost every wall. Thankfully, they too were all still hanging in their place, (though the tape on one of their corners was worn off again).
He then began to have a panic. One of his Chocobro bird pushes was missing. He imagined Belladonna having pilfered it from his quarters while she guarded his girls. He watched in his mind as she sneered to herself while petting its beautiful fluffy feathers.
He imagined nightfall coming, and her squishing its adorable face with her head as she rested her head on it. Drooling on it in her sleep as she blatantly ignored the details that made it truly a replica to the ones from Terminal Fantasy.
He was ready burst. He was one scream away from calling the War Fangs together and demanding them to fetch him her head. As he prepared a roar of rage and bloodlust, his right toe tapped something squishy under the table and he looked to find his lost plush, laying on its side beneath the table.
He was suddenly calm again, as peaceful as a dreaming psychopath and perhaps even smiling behind his ornate, screaming gas mask. His cute little mister must have just fallen off the table again when he opened the floodgates. His quarters always trembled slightly when they let the water rush.
Why didn't one of the girls pick it up? Phyraa knows how to alphabetize all of my treasure. She must have been talked out of it by Weiss. That naughty little tsundere was always causing trouble. Still, to think the others would go along with her. Were the fanged chastity belts too harsh? Perhaps not harsh enough?
The silence in the room should have caught his attention sooner. Somehow, it had slipped past his senses until thoughts of the girls began to surface. That was when he noticed the airiness of the room. The lack of footsteps or movement in the corners of his eyes. He was alone. Alone with his body pillows and full body posters and figurines. The girls were gone.
His girls were gone.
