Chapter 4: A New Balance

The Citadel surged with activity as the elevator lowered itself to the ground. Unlike the last five days, the ramp did not carry Wretched, instead it had brought down War Boys. The contingent of heavily armed warriors had beaten back the Wretched that had immediately clustered around the ramp and had ordered the road in and out of the Citadel be cleared. Now the ramp was being lowered once again and this time it carried the War Rig.

Toast the Knowing coughed into her hand as a thin wave of dust was kicked up by the wind and into her face.

War Boys surrounded her, protecting her from the Wretched that reached out to her. She had grown more wary of the sickly and starved men and women since her return to the Citadel. In such a short time they had gone from pitiful creatures to threatening animals and despite her better judgment telling her to be concerned for them, a part of her couldn't help but want to keep them at bay.

Two cars, survivors from the Fury Road, and several warbikes were already manned and on the road, arrayed in formation and awaiting the War Rig.

She looked up watching the War Rig as it descended. The rig itself was a backup, a spare machine that had been brought along for the Chase but hadn't received damage. It had been hooked to the old War Rig's trailer and assigned to her. Even if the machine was different, the entire spectacle seemed strange to Toast. It brought back too many memories, too many ponderings of her place in life. So many things were different now but too much of it felt the same.

Still, none of that mattered right now. Today was the day they had agreed to deliver. Gastown and the Bullet Farm were expecting them and there would be a high price to pay if they didn't make it on time.

"We are War Boys!" a voice shouted from atop the trailer of the Rig as it approached the ground.

"War Boys!" the men around her shouted back, lifting their right hands and raising their clenched fists to the sky.

"Kama-crazy War Boys!" the voice sounded again.

"War Boys!" the answer came. Toast remembered hearing them shout the exact same words when Furiosa had helped them escape. Memories of being cramped in the hollowed out delivery space of the War Rig came flooding back.

"Fuku-shima kama-crazy War Boys!" the call came.

"War Boys!" the men around her answered one last time as the ramp touched down on the ground.

Toast watched as one of the older War Boys, a man named Axel, walked forward. Furiosa had handpicked him from amongst the surviving warriors to serve as one of the Citadel's new imperators. The War Boys needed leaders and Axel had been one of the more balanced and trustworthy of their number.

"We're good an' hooked," Axel shouted. "War Boys on top. Driver in the cabin."

The War Boys immediately scrambled atop the War Rig. Toast hurried with them, making her way to the cabin of the Rig and pulling herself into the seat. Another War Boy sat down next to her in the driver's seat, flipping the kill switches and checking the gauges as well as making sure the small arsenal of hidden weapons were in place.

"Today we're goin' to Gastown!" Axel roared from atop the Rig.

"Gastown!" the War Boys shouted back. The noise washed over Toast.

"Today we're haulin' aqua-cola!" Axel announced.

"Aqua-cola!" the War Boys repeated.

"Today we're haulin' produce!" Axel continued.

"Produce!" the War Boys shouted in reply.

"Today we're haulin' mother's milk!" Axel said, breaking from the script Toast remembered on the first day of the Chase.

"Mother's milk!" the War Boys repeated regardless, returning Toast to her reflection.

"And today we're haulin' one a' the Sisters!" Axel then said, finishing his speech.

"Sister!" the War Boys shouted with reverence. "Blessed Sister! Wife of the Immortan!"

Toast did her best to hide her revulsion at the monicker. For days now Wretched and War Boys alike had come to her and the others asking her for blessings. She had been wary about the praise and idolatry at first but her concern had quickly grown when she found out why they regarde her so highly.

They adored her and her sisters because they had been married to the Immortan. His abuse had made them holy to these people and they pestered her constantly because of it.

Shaking herself from her own thoughts, she turned to the driver and nudged him. "Drive," she said to him.

The driver nodded to her and changed gear. The War Rig lurched forward with a start and then moved smoothly down the open road in front of it.

Toast watched as the Wretched clustered after them.

"They ride brothers and sisters!" a voice suddenly screeched over the rest of the noise. Many of the Wretched quieted as a ragged woman perched herself atop a rock by the road, a skull clutched in her hands. "Shiny and chrome the War Boys ride to our blessed neighbours. The Immortan awaits their spirits on the eternal highways. Bless us mighty warriors of the Immortan."

Toast frowned as she finally saw the woman known as Nell. She had been preaching her disgusting, twisted versions of the Immortan's lies for days now and the more she said the more rabid she became. The Wretched were listening to her still and spreading her vile messages throughout the Citadel, preying on the people's fear and ignorance. What's more the War Boys, many of them feeling lost without their god, were heeding her words as well.

"Valhalla awaits!" Nell shouted one last time, lifting the skull above her head and bowing like a salute. "Immorta!" she shouted and many of the Wretched took up her cry.

Toast sighed as the Rig drove past the frenzied masses and out into the Wasteland. Like they had so many times before, the War Rig followed the road to Gastown.

The escorts took position around the War Rig as it moved. Even after the terrible losses on the Fury Road, the roads between the great settlements of the Triumvirate remained well guarded. Gastown, at the very least, had most of its patrols abroad. They needed to protect their distant oil-horses and pumping stations and their armed caravans helped fight off intruders as well.

As the convoy ate up miles, Gastown came closer into view. Toast had never seen the massive oil refinery except in the distance. It had seemed like a shining torch in the distance, almost beautiful, like a star brought down to the wastes.

As it came closer to view, Toast suddenly realised just how ugly the industrial edifice really was. As more of it revealed itself to her, the shining lights were replaced by dirty metal. The almost graceful towers became riddled with annexes and additions, like pustules on a person's body and the fires turned from white and red to dirty orange and black. Now, the pall of soot was hovering over her.

She saw the flashes of Gastown's signal array, likely informing them of their approach.

"We're comin' in on the final stretch ma'am," the driver said to her, not taking his eyes off of the road.

They passed through the infamous Jaw without incident, moving into the oily bog known as the Dump. Filled with puddles of oil waste and fouled crude, the Dump was a hellish and deadly environment to navigate. One mistake could easily light a pool and send the unwary to oblivion.

Toast tensed as the driver nimbly guided the War Rig through the treacherous landscape, following the well worn road that had been carved between the pools and pipelines long ago.

Soon the first gate of Gastown lay before them. A ramshackle shantytown of Wretched sprawled in front of the gate, the unfortunate inhabitants rising and clustering beside the road at the sight of the approaching Citadel convoy.

The convoy slowed as it came to Gastown's first great gate.

"Ho Gastown," Axel called from atop the tanker.

"What is it?" a weary voice called back. "Nother Scrapulance?" A masked goon pulled his head over the battlements of one of the lookout towers and peered down at the Citadel vehicles. "What we got ere'?" he shouted down.

"We hail from the Citadel," Axel shouted. "We're here to deliver our rightful haulage of food an' rich bountiful aqua-cola to the gracious and generous people a' Gastown."

"What's goin' on?" another voice roared. A second goon climbed atop the tower, stalking up to the first and looming over him. "Were you sleepin' on duty again?" he shouted.

"No sir I was awake and aware. I merely missed the approach of our deliverers," the first goon nervously replied. "We mustn't keep em waitin' after all?"

Toast could almost see the second, larger goon sneer under his mask, his body language announcing his rage.

"Open er up," the second goon shouted. Toast heard a whip crack on the other side of the wall and soon gears began to grind.

The gates opened slowly and under great protest, the heavy doors squealing on their hinges. As the portal opened wide, Toast could see the road that lay ahead of them. Before them was the second gate that guarded access to the immense oil refinery, beyond that was the bridge that spanned the oily waters of Gastown's moat and beyond even that she could just make out the top of the third great gate. The paranoia such a defensive array displayed almost shocked Toast. It truly revealed to her just how much Gastown prized their guzzoline.

Turning her head back to the lookout tower she saw the smaller goon was operating a signal system, flashing a message back towards Gastown.

"Go on ahead," the larger goon shouted down to them. "The others know to let you pass."

Toast nodded to the driver who shifted gears again and drove the War Rig forward. As the Citadel convoy passed the gate and sped towards the second gate which was already tentatively opening, she heard a shot sound.

"No more chances," the voice of the second goon echoed behind her.

Ignoring the unpleasant sounds that quickly receded behind her, Toast focused on how she intended to handle delivering the supplies.

The trip over the bridge and through the gates was thankfully uneventful. However Toast couldn't help but feel more apprehensive the more Gastown revealed itself to her. Everything was coated in grime and soot. People crawled around on the ground, soaking up spilt patches of oil or grabbing at spare scraps to barter and trade with one another.

The Citadel convoy drove past the final gate and into the front compound. The driver moved the War Rig into an open space that was formed when the Gastowners in front of them scattered. The escort vehicles fanned out and parked themselves as well, arrayed around the War Rig in a protective circle.

Toast climbed out of the War Rig as the War Boys leapt off of their vehicles. She stood there, unsure what to do as Axel shouted orders to his men.

The Gastowners who had scattered before were clustering in a circle around the convoy. Armed goons kept the Wretched and workers at bay but even they were struggling to hold back the mass of flesh that was straining to see or touch the Citadel vehicles.

"Bring out the food first," Toast shouted to Axel, "we'll let them get the water and milk themselves."

"Right," Axel shouted back. He turned to his War Boys. "You heard the Sister. Get the produce out and on display."

The War Boys opened up the compartments in the trailer, the same compartments she remembered having to clamber through to get around the War Rig in the early stage of the Fury Road Chase. They then began to carefully lift out boxes of fruit and vegetables.

The crowds became even more excited and agitated at the sight of fresh produce and the shouts and warnings from the goons grew louder. A warning shot was fired off and the crowd backed away slightly.

The crowd suddenly split at one end as a new vehicle slowly drove into the clearing.

The car was stately and delicate compared to the others that surrounded it. It smoothly moved into the compound and came to a halt. A goon stepped out of the front passenger seat and then opened one of the doors in the back.

Toast watched carefully as a woman, the same woman she had always seen with Jost the Splint stepped out. She was dressed in a long black dress that, whilst worn in many places, was far more valuable than anything else worn by the people around her. Her dark hair was tied back behind her head and her face appeared to be painted white. She reached back inside the car and pulled out a parasol, opening it and holding it up against the burning sun. In her other hand she held a ledger and a small abacus.

The woman had a frown on her face and she held herself tall and straight. She signalled for her goons to step forward and the armed men immediately began to advance on the War Rig.

"Nice to see you could make it on time," the woman said.

"We brought what we agreed on," Toast replied curtly with a frown. She didn't like talking to this arrogant woman.

"Good," the woman replied with a smirk, "I'll make sure that you're right."

She nodded to a goon on her left.

"Get collectin' our due," the goon shouted to the other men beside him. "Bring up the canisters too, we got water to harvest."

The War Boys tensed as the goons all began to walk up to the produce they had arranged in front of them. The two opposing forces stared one another down, the goons never once stopping as they came forward.

"I'll be making sure that everything adds up correctly," the woman then said to Toast, lifting her abacus closer to her face as she joined her men around the produce.

Toast watched as a goon lifted out a head of lettuce and hefted it in his hands. he was weighing it, making sure that it was the correct weight. He gave an estimate to the woman who nodded and then watched as he went through the entire box of vegetables and repeated the process. The woman nodded and wrote down the numbers in the ledger, her parasol held in the crook of her arm.

The goon lifted the box and turned to the woman. "Oi, Wither," he said, "where d'ya want this?" Toast saw the woman pause and tense at his question.

"Put it in the first truck and wait until we're full." she said, her voice now much quieter and more angry.

Toast watched quietly as the slow process was repeated over and over until well over forty boxes had been weighed, counted and taken away to be loaded on vehicles.

"Right," the woman said, "get collecting the water and milk. Fill the canisters to the water mark, not an inch higher or lower."

The goons grumbled as they went to collect dozens of large metal containers from another truck. Setting them by the Rig, they went to man the pumps, War Boys glowering over them as they did so, their eyes scanning them constantly for signs of tampering or treachery.

Toast walked up to the woman. She was bored beyond belief by this point after spending so long simply watching tedium. The other woman wasn't busy either, she was looking over one of the pages of her ledger but wasn't writing anything in it. The moment the woman closed the book, pulled a small fan out of her dress and began waving in front of her face, Toast approached her.

"So you're Wither?" Toast asked carefully, trying to strike up some kind of conversation.

The woman shot her a glare. "Daisy, actually," she snapped back.

"But they call you Wither?" Toast continued, ignoring the dirty look she was now receiving from Daisy.

"That's not my name," Daisy replied, still glaring at her, "and I'd appreciate you don't call me that."

The two returned to silence as Daisy continued to fan herself. Toast watched as the goons filled canister after canister under the watch of her War Boy contingent. Glancing around, she saw the rest of the Gastowners were starting to disperse. They knew they weren't welcome at the moment and many of them likely had work to do. The ring of goons still remained but they had started to relax a little now that most of the Wretched had gone.

Eventually the last of the canisters was filled, the lead goon announcing the completion of their task.

"Good, give me the numbers and then run this lot to the refrigeration stores. We need to get this all chilled as quickly as possible." Daisy dismissed most of her men with a wave as the lead goon ran the numbers by her. She meticulously scribbled the figures down in the ledger and then turned back to Toast.

"Everything is accounted for," Daisy said curtly. "We'll keep an eye out for the next shipment. now our part." She turned back to her men. Several were climbing into trucks that now held the boxes of produce and canisters of water and milk. "Bring up the guzzoline." She shouted.

A whip cracked and Toast turned to see a trailer loaded with oil drums being rolled into the compound by several dozen Wretched. Armed goons surrounded them, one of them carrying a whip and beating the slower members of the group with it.

"Twelve thousand units of prime guzzoline," Daisy stated, "freshly processed, preserved and stored. Just as we agreed."

The Wretched towed the trailer up to the War Rig and then turned it to face the rear of the Citadel rig's tanker. The Wretched were then dismissed with a final crack of the whip and the War Boys came forward to hitch it up.

"Pleasure doing business with you," Daisy said in a flat, dismissive tone. Toast saw she wasn't looking at her but was instead finishing off her writing in the ledger.

Toast sighed in frustration and scowled. "Everything's accounted for, then. We'll see you for the next delivery."

Daisy hummed and nodded in response, finally shutting the ledger and raising her head to look at her.

Toast nodded back and then turned to the War Rig, glad to be rid of the woman. She climbed back into the cabin, the driver taking position beside her. She heard the War Boys clamber onto the Rig's back as well, telling her the Gastown shipment was safely hooked onto them.

"War Boys!" Axel shouted, the men of the convoy shouting back to him enthusiastically in response. "Today we're goin' to the Bullet Farm!"

"Bullet Farm!" the War Boys responded. Toast looked outside and saw that many of the Gastowners were watching them.

The very name of their next destination put Toast on edge. She remembered the Bullet Farm. her childhood had been nothing but gunmetal, saltpetre and spent casings. She had been sorting shells the moment she was old enough to tell the bullets apart from one another and she had hated every minute of it.

At first, when she was too young to understand what it was she was doing, she had merely hated the noise and the smell and the ugly lead-reapers who had kicked her whenever she got in their way. Later, when she was about eight years old, she had finally figured out what the Farm's crops did to people and on that day she had realised what she hated was the bullets that she held in her hands.

When the Bullet Farmer came for her and told her, right to her face, that he was going to trade her, she had kept her eyes on his, never once backing down. It was the first time she had seen her lord and master up close and she had decided at that very moment that she hated him.

When she was taken away to be made a wife, she had never looked back. She hated the Bullet Farm.

Even when she was confined within the depths of the Vault and subjected to the Immortan's abuse, a part of her had felt happy that she was anywhere but the Farm. Even then, she had vowed she would accept anything if it kept her away from the sight, sounds and smells of the Bullet Farm.

Then Furiosa had come and offered her a new chance at living, a new way, a better way where hope and life could flourish and she would never have to endure the smell of gunmetal, the feeling of blackpowder or the sounds of the presses as they formed casings for what Angharad had aptly named antiseed.

Now she would be going back. She had known she would be going there the moment she volunteered to oversee the convoy but she still had trouble accepting it.

As the Rig turned itself around and made its way back onto the road out of Gastown, Toast watched the people file away from the convoy. Daisy and the care she was in had disappeared into the crowds with the trucks and trailers that were now carrying the supplies they had given out. Toast didn't know what the Gastowners would do with the supplies but she knew that it wouldn't be shared equally. Gastown had a new master but nothing had changed.

The trip north to the Bullet Farm was long and somewhat worrying. They were running alongside Buzzard territory and despite the damage they had done to them during the Fury Road Chase, there would always be more, watching and waiting for weakness.

Thankfully none of the spotters saw any sign of rusty, spike covered vehicles. Instead the convoy rolled over the road between Gastown and the Bullet Farm without any trouble.

Soon enough the Bullet Farm's smokestacks came into view. They stabbed into the air, like bullets arrested in flight. Toast steeled herself as her former home came into view.

When the Citadel convoy reached the gate of the Bullet Farm, Toast saw that the farmers had come out in force. Heavily armed lead-reapers manned the walls and a single large vehicle was set in front of the gate.

It was huge and flat. Caterpillar tracks, like those the Peacemaker had rolled on, were underneath it and an enormous gun thrust out of the top. It took Toast a few seconds to identify the machine that now crouched in front of her. It was a tank, one of the many war engines the Bullet Farm was rumoured to possess.

"Halt and name yourself," a loud voice shouted over a speaker system.

The driver looked at her questioningly. Toast nodded to him and the driver shifted gears, bringing the Rig to a halt. The escort vehicles slowed and did the same.

"We are the Citadel," Axel's voice called overhead. "We have come to bring our trade of aqua-cola and produce in return for the Bullet Farm's crops."

The bullet farmers stared back them. There was a tense silence as the two forces faced one another. Suddenly the tank started with a splutter that sounded like the angered grunt of a terrible beast.

"Open the gates," the voice from the tank shouted. Whips cracked and gears grinded as the Bullet Farm's central gate was opened up. The tank drove backwards through the gate, the gun still trained on the War Rig.

"You can proceed," the voice shouted again.

Toast nodded to the driver and then rapped her fist on the ceiling of the cabin. The War Rig moved forward, the rest of the convoy following after it, and passed through the gate, the eyes of the lead-reapers never leaving them.

The Bullet Farm was just as awful as Toast remembered it. Wretched slaves toiled deep within the huge round pit of the mine. To Toast they looked like the insects she had occasionally seen crawling in the desert sands.

The convoy followed the tank as it slowly made its way down the road that led past the mine and to the main compound. The lead-reapers marched along the wall, keeping pace with the convoy and eying them warily as they went.

The convoy wound their way into the heart of the Bullet Farm, coming to a halt in the open compound that was surrounded by the Farm's foundries and other buildings. Toast suddenly felt nervous. The smoke stacks loomed over her now like they had in her childhood, dredging up old memories.

The tank stopped before them, tracking their movement with its gun, and opened the hatch on its turret.

A large woman clambered out. She was dressed in a lead-reaper's uniform but now had belts of ammunition stitched to the sleeves and she wore a headdress made of bullets that looked exactly like the Bullet Farmer's.

"Ho the Citadel," the woman shouted at them. "You are now in the Bullet Farm. Deliver your wares and we will do business with you."

Toast opened the door of the Rig and climbed out so that she was hanging from the side of the cabin.

"Who are you?" she shouted at the woman.

The figure in front of her bristled the moment she actually laid eyes on her, as if her very presence was an insult.

"I am Big Stack," the woman announced, "Bullet Farmer, guardian, judge and executioner of the Bullet Farm and keeper of the guns. Who are you Citadel woman?"

Toast took a deep breath, straightening on her perch and shouted out in the strongest and clearest voice she could muster. "I'm Toast the Knowing of the Citadel. We're here to make peace with the Bullet Farm."

"I've heard of you," Big Stack replied bitterly, "and if I had my way I'd have seen you and your sisters," she spat the word as if it was poisonous, "for target practise. Still a deal was made and the Bullet Farm will keep its word. Bring your wares out and we'll bring ours."

Toast stepped off of the Rig and indicated to Axel to start unboxing the Farm's share of the produce. She saw Bullet Farmers approaching with canisters to fill with water and milk.

Big Stack remained standing atop her tank, glowering at her and her men. It had already been made evidently clear that the larger woman did not like them and she seemed to want to take any opportunity to hammer her feelings in.

Like in Gastown, the boxes of produce were brought out to be analysed and weighed. The bullet farmers were just as exacting as the Gastowners. Toast remembered the old Bullet Farmer's obsession with justice and balance. Whenever the supply convoys came to the Farm he would make sure the value of the goods that were exchanged was counted again and again to make sure the trade was equal.

It appeared Big Stack was no different than her predecessor. She loomed over the entire exchange process, wordlessly commanding her lead-reapers to analyse the produce over and over until she was satisfied they had guessed the value correctly.

Once the food was taken, the water and milk was collected. This was, thankfully, a much quicker process and only took half the time it had taken to gather the produce.

"It appears we're in accord," Big Stack said from her perch atop the tank. "You've kept up your end of the bargain and so here is ours."

At a barked command several boxes filled with bullets were brought up. Sealed jars of black powder were carried out as well along with bundles of thunder-sticks tied together with rope woven from Wretched hair. Toast hated seeing so much antiseed in front of her and knowing she would be taking it back to her home but they needed it.

Killing was still necessary in her world.

"Our business is done," Toast said as the War Boys picked up the assorted weapons and ammunition and loaded them into the produce compartment of the tanker.

"Indeed," Big Stack replied. "All's fair and in balance."

Toast climbed back into the War Rig and signaled to the driver. Once again the massive war machine rumbled to life, weighed down by its new haul of deliveries. The escort vehicles turned themselves around and made their way back onto the road whilst the driver tried to guide the War Rig out of the compound.

The bullet farmers continued to watch her carefully as they left, continuing to watch them even after they finally made it through the Bullet Farm's main gate and back out into the Wasteland. Toast never once looked back as they sped back down south to the Citadel.