Immortan Joe valued his imperators. He really did. It just wasn't in a way that meant he truly cared about them…but that didn't exactly bother him. He didn't lose much sleep over what happened to them, as long as he still had control. He lost sleep over a lot of other things, mostly related to his own health, but his imperators weren't exactly at the top of his list.

He had a few of them, just the select few who proved they were better than that sea of war boys. They were commanding. They did his work for him. They did more than Rictus could, with their usual positions being among the boys, rather than how he was usually with Joe. They were good drivers, good shooters, and good fighters in general. They could bring back blood bags or supplies, or even negotiate with Bullet Farm and Gas Town on his behalf when he was needed at the Citadel. The imperators were first and foremost glorified war boys, but what set them apart was their ability to think for themselves, and while useful, that also made them dangerous.

Joe kept a close eye on them…or at least, as close as he could from his usual position at the top of the Citadel. The boys rarely saw him, but the imperators spoke with him on occasion, and were thus kept on a tighter leash than the rest of the war boys. They saw more, heard more, and knew more than the rest, and that made him paranoid. He always feared that they saw too much. Heard too much.

Knew too much.

Those suspicions were a large part of why he had his son kick imperator Warbird back down the ladder she had spent her entire life climbing. She hid her intentions well, he had noticed, behind her bad attitude and chronic pain. Pain she deserved to be in now, for doing what she had done. She thought he didn't know, didn't she? She thought she could get away with it, but nothing went on in the Citadel without his knowing. There was nothing he missed, nothing he didn't see. He was utterly confident that he was completely in charge, but that confidence was only maintained by a certain level of wariness and paranoia.

When he was notified of the need for a trip to Gastown, Joe immediately ordered that Furiosa be sent. With Warbird demoted, Furiosa was the trustworthiest imperator Joe had. She didn't go behind his back to speak to his wives, poisoning their air with her imperfect body. Furiosa did what she was told, unlike Warbird, who as of late was getting on his nerves.

He was thoroughly convinced that she was up to something. He feared that she was trying to steal his wives from him, something he would never expect from a war boy, albeit an imperator. He expected challenges from People Eater, not Warbird. He didn't know why she would want to steal them—after all, she couldn't use them for breeding, could she?—but he didn't want to give her a chance to show him. He would get rid of her completely soon enough, but her death had the potential to complicate things. The boys loved her, he knew that much, and he couldn't risk any sort of uprising. He couldn't let them find out what they could do if they put their heads together to turn against him.

No, Warbird couldn't be a martyr. That would cause too much trouble. He had to wait until she did something worth killing her over, something that was more obvious than this, something that the boys could see and recognize as bad. He needed to catch her in the act, but until then, she was free to limp and crawl around the Citadel for the remainder of what he would ensure to be a short life.

Nux had spent a good portion of the day trying to keep Warbird away from cars and boys returning from raids, and he eventually succeeded in convincing her to go to the Organic Mechanic. He waited while she lay miserably on the table, listening to Mechanic telling her things that Nux didn't understand. Organic Mechanic rubbed salves on her hip while Nux watched over them, occasionally helping by holding things or grabbing things off of shelves and tables. Mostly, though, he just stood there and kept an eye on things, trying to keep up with what was being said.

There were problems with her hip, that much he knew, problems that made other problems in other parts of her. If they were talking about cars, he would have understood, probably, but the Mechanic was an expert in putting flesh together, not metal. People didn't work like cars, and Nux only understood one of those things. But he did understand that there was something very wrong that had been going wrong for a long time, and that Warbird and the Mechanic had been dealing with attempting to treat it for almost as long as it had been a problem. It's where all her creams were from, and it's where she used to go on days where it just seemed like she could hardly move at all on her own. If any of those meetings went anything like the current one was, then it was all incredibly depressing.

They spoke little, focusing on the parts that hurt and explaining why it was that they hurt like they did. When everything was finally done and all the possible questions were asked and answered, the Mechanic stood from his stool and told her that there was nothing else he could do short of carving her in half so that her hip didn't even exist. He offered to give her blood bags, but she declined them. She didn't need blood, she needed relief. She needed to be able to feel okay enough to survive in such a harsh place.

When they were finished, Nux scooped Warbird up to carry her back so that she could sleep. The sun was already going down, and she was tired enough that she didn't even protest or try to insist on walking on her own. She didn't make any sounds at all until he set her down in the same spot they had slept the night before, and her noises started off with disgruntled huffs and pained yelps as she tried to get herself into somewhat of a comfortable sleeping position.

"Want anything to eat?" Nux asked. "Better get it quick. Boys're coming back and soon there won't be anything left."

She shook her head and pulled a blanket over herself. "I just want to lay here forever."

Nux frowned and sat down next to her. "Don't you want to die historic?"

"I used to think I did."

"Used to?"

"I'm not so sure now. Organic Mechanic said I shouldn't even try driving. What good am I if I can't drive?" she asked, looking up at him with an incredibly grouchy expression.

He realized she had a point. If she couldn't drive, he didn't suppose she would be able to be a lancer or a polecat…and besides, she was an imperator. She shouldn't have to demote herself just to do her job. "You could go with Furiosa to get guzzoline."

"Why would I do that? She has her own problems to worry about. And besides, what would I even do? Sit there on my ass while he does everything?"

Nux huffed a sigh and flopped down next to her. "So what do you want to do?"

"Nothing."

"You can't just do nothing. You won't dine in Valhalla."

Warbird frowned. He was right, and she hated it a little. "Maybe I don't care." She said stubbornly.

"You don't mean that."

She groaned. He was right. "I want to find a way to live in a place like this."

Nux scooted closer to her and tugged the edge of the blanket over himself, happily receiving the warmth of their combined body heat. It was a nice contrast to the cold air around them. He liked being so close to her, so he wiggled toward her a little more. She didn't react. He let his usually tense muscles relax and exhaled out his nose. Warbird stayed still and quiet, too tired for her grumpiness to win out over exhaustion.

"I know," he said quietly as her breathing became deeper. He laid his head down next to hers and inhaled the scent of motor oil in her hair. "I know."