Furiosa hadn't been afraid during the fight on the War Rig, but she felt fear when the elevator lifted all three of them, the War Rig, Praetorian Jack, and her, toward the top of the Citadel. She hated it. She had set out with a plan in mind, or rather the outline of a plan: get rid of Praetorian Jack and the War Boys, steal the War Rig, and drive it to the Green Lands. It was a foolish plan, born from a stupid child's dream. She could see that now. Praetorian Jack wasn't one to be taken by surprise, neither by the Octoboss and his gang nor by her, and now he knew what to expect of her.

Furiosa wouldn't forget that lesson. If she wanted to use the War Rig to run away, she needed to possess it before she made her escape, not during.

If she could escape again. Furiosa's hands tightened on the gun she still held when the shadow of the Citadel swallowed them. She felt better with a weapon in her hand. For years, she had hoped to get her hands on one. Fortunately, her hand and eye had never forgotten Mary Jo Bassa's lessons. Otherwise, she and Praetorian Jack would be dead by now, their two bodies drying on the sands of the Wastelands like her mother's did years ago, instead of feeding the Green Land as they were supposed to.

Bile rose in her throat. Furiosa might be alive, but instead of being on her way to the Green Land, she would be locked up inside the Citadel's oppressive tunnels. Again. She was ashamed to be alive, like she was when she saw life abandoning her mother's tortured body. She no longer deserved to be one of the Vuvulani, but had she ever been one?

The platform stopped with an infernal creak. Furiosa forcibly tore herself away from the dark thoughts she always returned to and in which she nearly drowned, again and again. She had to keep her mind alert now that she was back in the Citadel, not to dwell on her worst failures and greatest shame. She was nervous, which was to be expected. After six years of hiding in the Citadel under the guise of a black thumb in front of everyone, it was scary to return as a girl. Her long hair and the fine features she had taken so long to erase under grease and a pair of glasses were now obvious to anyone with eyes. Furiosa should have cut them long ago and let the wind carry them far from the Citadel, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Her mother had let hers grow long, and Furiosa wanted to have at least one thing to keep Mary Jo Bassa alive.

She glanced toward Praetorian Jack. She couldn't read his features. His face was closed. His eyes looked straight ahead. What was he thinking? Was he planning to denounce her? Furiosa would find out soon enough.

The Praetorian waited for one War Boy to give them the green light. When they got it, he pressed the clutch to bring the War Rig towards its resting spot. When they stopped moving, they both stood there for a moment, still as stones, eyes fixed on the dark tunnel ahead. Finally, Furiosa stirred imperceptibly and Praetorian Jack shook himself and cut the engine. From under his seat, he pulled a piece of filthy cloth. He tossed it to Furiosa and reached for the gun. Furiosa put it closer to her chest.

"I said you could keep it, and I'll give it back to you. But where we're going, you can't have it on you."

Reluctantly, Furiosa handed it back and took the cloth. She had to trust him. She didn't trust him. Not yet. Maybe never. It would depend on him.

"Don't let a single hair stick out."

As if she'd ever been reckless with her safety. She'd lived six years hidden in plain sight, and she knew what she was doing. Even Praetorian Jack hadn't suspected a thing while they were working together on the War Rig. She still complied without protesting. Life in the Citadel was tough for a black thumb. It was either obeying or getting a beating. Furiosa didn't want to see how much worse her situation could become if or when they realized she was a girl.

Before she could open her door, Praetorian Jack grabbed her hand. He pulled away when she winced, but didn't take his eyes off her.

"Little girl... or maybe not so little. Kid. Do you know your age, at least? But it doesn't matter in the end. I'll lie for you, but I need your promise. I need you to swear to me you'll back up everything I say."

Furiosa nodded. Praetorian Jack shook his head.

"That's not enough. You're not a mute. That's part of your disguise, nothing more. I need words."

"Yes. I will."

The look that Praetorian Jack threw her was seriously doubtful. Furiosa gives him back a distrustful look. Praetorian Jack sighed.

"I'm trying to help you, but you have to help me help you. That's a dangerous game you're about to play, you realize that?"

Furiosa thought back of the wives in their beautiful white dresses, so beautiful, so fragile. She thought of a woman screaming in pain while a screaming and deformed mass was being torn from her entrails, then begging for another chance to give birth because she knew they were worse things than being Immortan Joe's breeder. Furiosa understood the risks better than Jack did. She feared the Vault, but she'd rather die like her mother than have her belly torn apart by another Scrotus or Rictus Erectus.

She didn't trust Praetorian Jack enough to tell him her thoughts, so Furiosa just nodded once more. He didn't press the issue. Oddly enough, it made her feel even more uncomfortable than if he had yelled or hit her. She was used to violence, not to that, whatever it was. Compassion? Comprehension? Did he care or did he pretend to?

"Praetorian Jack!" a War Boy shouted from outside the War Rig, startling them both. "What happened to your men? Why are you coming back so fast? Where's the guzzoline?"

Praetorian Jack put a finger to his lips for Furiosa, then slid Furiosa's pistol under her seat where she could retrieve it there after dark, if he didn't do it first. When it was done, Praetorian Jack finally opened his door and jumped out of the War Rig.

"They're dead. We lost their cars and their bikes. I'm going to talk to Immortan. You, assess the damage and start the repairs. Get a team together. Immortan will want us to head back to Gaztown right away and salvage what we can on our way before anyone else gets the same idea."

The War Boy sniffed.

"If you survive till then. Immortan's not going to be happy with you!"

Praetorian Jack glared at him. A war boy would never have dared to say that to a praetorian, but everyone knew Immortan didn't waste his time with losers. The war boy thought him finished, but Furiosa hoped he'd lived. He was right, her plan was flawed, and she wasn't seasoned enough to survive the Wastelands on her own. She needed him, for now.

"Don't take my place until the worms eat my corpse."

The War Boy stepped back.

"Like you said, Praetorian. Hey, you! Black Thumb! With me!"

He was speaking to Furiosa, who had opened her door as quietly as possible. She paused and turned back to Praetorian Jack.

"The Black Thumb stays with me. He's the only other survivor. Immortan might want to question him."

Without waiting for the war boy's opinion on the matter, Praetorian Jack walked toward the hallway leading up to Immortan Joe's lair, a place Furiosa had avoided like the plague. She didn't want to follow him, but she had no choice, so she jumped out of the War Carrier and ran to get to his level, despite her injured leg. He slowed down, just a little, but when she tried to meet his gaze, he refused to look at her and continued to keep his gaze fixed straight ahead.

"Don't keep your shoulders high. Lower your head. Looks brave, not insolent."

Furiosa glared at him, but she did what he said.

"And don't give me that look. You're not a threat. You're not angry, you're not hateful, you don't resent anyone. Don't look afraid either. You're just sure of who you are. There. Give me that look. The one you had when you fought on the War Rig."

Hatred and anger were old friends. Furiosa tried to shut them and looked at him, but it wasn't enough for Praetorian Jack.

"Too much. Nothing you did gives you the right to be so proud. Praetorians can be proud, not Black Thumbs. It takes more deeds than yours to be allowed to be proud, and today won't count as one of your accomplishments. A kid does not save a War Rig without training. It would humiliate all the War Boys. You don't want to make enemies, so don't brag about it. Later you'll be able to, when you earned it in a way that's more acceptable to them. Don't expect that occasion to come soon. Try again? Better. In a moment, Immortan will look at you. Don't look away. Don't be proud, don't be angry, but don't show fear either. Can you do that?"

She had lost everything and survived her losses. She had been stolen and sold. Furiosa could look at Immortan without showing him how much she dreamed of seeing his body devoured by dogs and worms, his and Dementus. It would be child's play. She was more worried about Praetorian Jack. He knew who she was. He said he wanted to help Furiosa and arm her for her escape, but how much could she trust him? It might just be a ploy. He may still betray her to Immortan. The big fat monster would not hesitate to throw her in his Vault, that parody of the Green Land. Anything but that. Furiosa would rather slit her throat than serve as a womb for this monster's children. Ideally, she would prefer to slit both their throats first.

Praetorian Jack wanted something from her. Obviously. Since she had been torn from her Green Land, Furiosa had met nothing but men expecting something from her, whether it was the path to the Green Land, her fear, or her healthy body. But she couldn't guess what he wanted from her. Her body? No, he would have raped her on the road. Easiest and faster. Must be something else, but what? Furiosa had only heard good things about him in the Workshop. Good driver, a good leader of men, a good strategist, a quick thinker, and an amazing shooter... The perfect praetorian. But Furiosa did not trust rumors. The war boys were all kami crazy at the end of their lives with their heads full of Immortan's lies, and the black thumbs listened with envy to their tales, disgusted as they were of their weak bodies that prevented them from dying historically on the Fury Road, as they all said. Insane, the lot of them.

But, compared to the other praetorians who believed in kicks in the teeth as a method of learning, Praetorian Jack was seen as a kindly hero. That meant little to Furiosa. In this devastated world, everyone wore a mask to write their own legend, usually in blood. Furiosa would watch him and keep to his right, so she could easily grab his knife and stick it in his stomach if he betrayed her.

"Here we are," Praetorian Jack hissed. "Stay three steps behind me. Stop when I stop. Don't get noticed until I draw attention to you."

Not getting noticed. It was a skill Furiosa had been working on since her first day in the Citadel. Hiding her reluctance as best she could, she stepped away from the knife to position herself exactly three steps behind him.

Inside Immortan's lair, a heavy silence greeted them, promising death if the monster wasn't pleased with their answers. The same men Furiosa had last seen with him were there, the Man-Eater, Rictus, and Scrotus. The difference was that Furiosa knew some of their weaknesses and what buttons to push or not to push to get certain reactions from them this time, even if she had never been foolish enough to try. Last time, even stuck between them and Dementus, she had not been afraid. She was too busy stirring up her hatred and hoping they would all kill each other. And she still wasn't afraid of them now. They were only men in the end, whatever their reputation was. Furiosa only feared what they could do to her, but she had escaped the Vault once. She could do it again, even if it was by killing herself.

Her heartbeat slowed. She mentally prepared herself for a fight, because this was one, even if another one might fight for her today. Maybe.

"Praetorian Jack," Immortan greeted coldly. "You're coming back twice as fast as expected, without your men and your escort. Tell me why."

He was a completely different monster from Dementus, cold and thoughtful, whereas Dementus was excited and unpredictable, but still a monster. Furiosa refused to be fooled by his quietness. Ahead of her, she could see the tension in Praetorian Jack's shoulders. He too, was expecting the worst.

"I brought you your War Rig back, Immortan," he replied calmly.

"Intact?"

"No. But the damage is minor and repairable. Two hours will be enough to dismantle the boom and remove most of the damage. After that, we'll be ready to go back on the road. The real repairs can wait. Since this was the War Carrier's first outing, it won't be too obvious it's not functioning at its full capacity."

"Maybe. That doesn't explain what happened to my War Rig."

"We were attacked by the Octoboss and his gang."

"And you run from them?, Scrotus spat. "We should hang you on the front of the War Rig, schlanger, as a warning to all cowards! You said it would be untouchable!"

"I said it would surprise anyone who tried to attack it, and it's still ours. I turned around because I thought it was better to deliver our aqua cola late rather than to show up unescorted and with too visible traces of a fight. It was a close call. I won't deny it. But the War Rig did its job. The Octoboss and his men are dead."

The Man-Eater tilted his head to the side, in a way that could be appreciative or mocking.

"All of them?"

"We finished the few survivors on the way back."

No one commented on his use of the plural. They had seen Furiosa but chose to ignore her for now.

"I'd like to leave with a bigger escort," Praetorian Jack proceeded. "If there were other groups of marauders around, they won't have had time to organize a new strategy to counter the little surprises of the War Rig, but there's equipment to recover from the wreckage, including at least two parachutes, maybe three, and as many propellers. We can tow back the escort vehicles. They weren't that damaged, and I think we can recover the fuel, the engines, and part of the carcass of two to four other cars."

"The Octoboss had been growing bolder for a long time," acknowledged the Man-Eater. "An attack from his gang was hanging over our heads. Better to have wiped them out the first time, even at this price, than to see the threat growing. War boys are more easily replaced than engines."

"And those are now fighting in Valhalla," approved Immortan in an indifferent voice. "You did well to come back immediately. You did not disgrace the Praetorians."

"Thank you, Immortan. However, there is another problem we must discuss."

"The Black Thumb, I presume. He witnessed the fight, but I don't remember more than one Black Thumb getting on board."

Praetorian Jack made an imperceptible wave of his hand. Furiosa immediately moved two feet to the right. She forced herself to remain indifferent and serene. The moment of truth had come.

"We had a stowaway. Some mechanics like to admire how their machines work a little too close."

"And he survived where the others died," the Man-Eater continued. "Will he talk about what happened?"

The threat was obvious. He thought it best to kill her. Given his venomous looks, Scrotus thought the same. Rictus didn't think, and Immortan hid his thoughts too well. Furiosa remained impassive under their gaze. Praetorian Jack had kept his word, keeping for himself her intentions to flee. As long as he keeps doing that, they were good.

"Only a moron would say how close we were to defeat outside this room. If I thought it was a risk, there would be one more body on the road, left for the crow. The problem I talked about is of another nature."

He turned to her and gave her something that looked like an apologetic look before he pulled down the makeshift hood that hid her hair. Furiosa's first instinct was to bite him, to strike and flee, but she forced herself to stay still. She had no choice at this point but to trust him.

Immortan loomed over her. She probably should have shaken in fear or opened her mouth to show him her fervor, like the War Boys did. Instead, she calmly returned his gaze, trying to ignore the anger and hatred she felt for him, just as Praetorian Jack told her to do. Both their head would pay the price if he understood, but Furiosa wouldn't get a quick, or dignified, death. As she stared into the abyss of coldness that served as Immortan's eyes, she tried to remember which gods people prayed to in the Green Land, but her memories were already fading. But not the path toward the Green Land. She engraved it on her skin and in her soul. The greatest of the Wasteland's secrets.

Did Immortan Joe sense she was hiding such a big secret from everyone? His inquisitive eye lingered on her more than it should have. Perhaps he wondered if he had seen her somewhere before. Furiosa dared to hope she hadn't stayed long enough in the Vault for that. Back then, her hair had been dyed red. Dementus had called her "Little D." She had never given her real name to the Wives who had welcomed her into the Vault. It had to be enough.

"She looks like a full-life," Immortan finally said. "A little frail, but strong."

He hadn't recognized her. Whatever the gods of the Green Land were, they must still be watching over her. Furiosa had a growth spurt recently. She was now thin for her age, especially compared to the well-fed wives. The half-life Black Thumbs, easily expendable, were less well-fed than the pretty prisoners of Dementus and Immortan.

"I think she is," Praetorian Jack replied.

"You found her in the marauders' bags?"

He had to say no, or the story would sound too much like her real one. Furiosa should have given him a story.

"She was hidden under the War Rig. She had been hiding among the Black Thumbs for years. Her leader must have known her secrets. I suspect he was her father, and that he never said so, even to her.

"Wife stealer!" Scrotus shouted. "Traitor! He must pay!"

"He did, even if I had nothing to do with it. He died during the attack. She took over, repairing the War Rig which was slowing down dangerously. Apparently, she wanted to see it moving by herself, after working on it."

"Interesting", Immortan said, without taking his eyes off her. "Do you confirm this story, little one?"

"Little D" had been almost mute, which meant that Furiosa could not be. Any resemblance was to be avoided so that her secret would remain a secret.

"Yes. I didn't know about the mechanic, not for sure. He never told me anything. And I helped build the War Rig. It wasn't fair that I didn't come, when some others did, so I hid."

Immortan nodded. He almost looked amused. That probably wasn't a reason to believe herself safe.

"How did he get you into the Black Thumbs?"

He hadn't. Scrotus did gave her the job, but Furiosa couldn't say that. Immortan's son took badly what even remotely resembled an accusation. She shrugged.

"I was small. I don't remember."

The Man-Eater tapped the ring on his nipple.

"We can suppose that her mother belongs to the scum that lurks on the ground. She put the child on the platform. They always try to give us their sons. Maybe there are others like her, hidden here and there. It's worth investigating."

"Especially if there are other full-lives girls hidden inside the Citadel or around. Take care of that as soon as possible. As for that one..."

That was it. The moment that Furiosa had feared and expected. Immortan was going to thank Praetorian Jack and reward him for bringing a new wife to him. The praetorian would bow, abandoning her there to her fate. But Furiosa had learned a thing or two since her last stay in the Vault. If Immortan tried to approach her with his big sausage fingers, she would rip off his nose or his ear, depending on what was within reach. Or better yet, the flaccid penis he was trying to impregnate woman after woman with to produce a healthy heir he didn't deserve.

"If I may, Immortan…"

The war leader held up a hand to silence him with an imperious gesture.

"I know. You brought back a War Rig that most of the other Praetorians would have lost. Respect and fear of the Citadel will increase when news of the Octoboss' death and his gang's defeat are known. You can ask a lot of me, but not a healthy potential wife who has not yet been put through trial."

Furiosa's stomach churned. She guessed all too well what test he was talking about, the three chances he gave a woman to give him an heir before he made them pay for his failures. Monster.

"If it's a woman you want, I can put aside the next one that fails to give me a heir for you," Immortan finally offered magnanimously.

"Thank you, Immortan, but that's not what I asked," Praetorian Jack replied with ill-concealed loathing. "I ask for nothing. Just serving you is enough, but I would advise you to think twice before taking this one as your wife. She survived where seasoned war boys died for a reason. She fought alongside us and helped a lot with getting the War Rig up and running again."

Furiosa blinked. Could he really be an ally?

"That little thing?" the Man-Eater wondered.

"The girl was hidden at the start of the assault, but showed herself when she felt we needed more hands. She has good instincts, a steady hand, and a good footing. She single-handedly knocked two men out of the sky. The shots were clumsy, but she used her mechanical knowledge to aim where she needed to. Two out of three shots missed, but the third was the right one."

Furiosa bit her lip. Her shots weren't perfect, but they weren't clumsy either. She forced herself not to react. The Story Man had told her once she had to be useful if she wanted to survive in the Wasteland. Useful couldn't mean dangerous or threatening. Not yet, anyway. One day soon, if Praetorian Jack trained her like he'd promised, and only if Immortan Joe agreed with his arguments. But what were the chances that this time everything would go as Furiosa wanted? It never did before.

"Get to the point," Immortan said. He was getting irritated.

"I know how precious a full-life wife is to you. But this girl has lived for years in the promiscuity of the workshops. It's not exactly a healthy place."

"Your wives are all chrome and shiny, Father," Scrotus cried. "You can't have her spoil them!"

"I need a healthy little brother with all his fingers," Rictus added, crying like a big baby his mother was threatening to confiscate his toy.

"It wouldn't be the first time we found a wife in the Wastelands and it never was a problem. Few places are as infested as a War Boy's nest, but I do not think it is your only fear, Praetorian."

"You're right, it isn't. I talked to her on the way back. Black Thumbs learn a bit about fighting. They live in a brutal world. This one has learned to be tough in return. She bites and she scratches, and I suspect that's on her good days. She has an attitude problem, and I wonder what influence she could have on your wives."

"She's just a child," the Man-Eater interjected. "They're not that hard to break."

Immortan hummed. He still hadn't taken his eyes off Furiosa, and she refused to give in first, even if she might not be able to hide her desire to slit Immortan Joe's throat for much longer. He kneeled down with difficulty to get eye to eye with her.

"I don't know. There is a fire in her eyes, a fire that I don't want to see spread throughout the Vault. She would resist, perhaps even inspire others to do the same. Most of my wives arrive already broken, but the war pups' training aims to break them and make them anew. She wouldn't break so easily. What's her name?"

"Furiosa," she replied, tired of being talked over.

"An adequate name. Very well. I'm listening, Jack. What would you do with her?"

"Wives are precious, but so are full-life fighters. We're in short supply, you know that as well as I do. That girl can more or less shoot. She already knows how to improvise. With training, she could learn to obey orders. Maybe even give them."

Scrotus choked.

"You want to make her your second? A woman?"

"Before the Fall, some females were useful to other things than procreation," the Man-Eater admitted almost reluctantly. "But today, it's wombs that humanity needs, more than anything else."

"Then take hers, father! Fertilize her!"

"I know that look in your eyes," Immortan said.

Furiosa's blood froze. Not that. Anything but that. He couldn't recognize her. She consciously avoided turning her gaze to Praetorian Jack, looking for support where they wouldn't be, or to Rictus, who more than the others was likely to recognize her if he remembered to think for once.

"Furiosa. A good name indeed. She would try to kill me. You can see it in her eyes. She would force me to make an example of her, and that kind of thing is hard to forget afterward. We don't want to set bad examples for my wives. Besides, the Vault is getting crowded, with eleven wives inside, all dedicated to giving me an heir. One more may not be necessary."

"She could be the one, father."

"When? She's too young, too thin, too… You say she can shoot?"

"Better than some war boys when they came to us. She wasn't afraid. She used her size and the terrain to her advantage. And as she helped build the War Rig, she knows it like the back of her hand."

"You say she obeys orders?"

"She did, during the fight. Unlike most young War Boys in their first supply run. And what she doesn't know, she can learn."

What had the History Man said to Furiosa in the first days of her imprisonment? To make herself indispensable. He spoke of becoming a History Woman tattooed with the knowledge of the past, but Furiosa had already decided that she would take up arms against her torturers. That said, she could still use his advice.

"I can be useful to you", she promised. "I'm strong. I move silently. I'm better than I look."

Useful people didn't get killed, they were used. And, if Furiosa was very, very lucky, she could use them in return. She waited for the final verdict. She got nervous, but Immortan didn't seem eager to take his decision. Behind him, Rictus didn't seem to understand what they were talking about, but Scrotus made a face that made him look even uglier.

"Girls don't belong among the War Boys," he stormed. "What message does that send? The wretched are going to send us their deformed daughters now. As if we weren't already having trouble absorbing their degenerate sons! Not to mention that we need them to produce soldiers for us."

He shut up on a sign from Immortan. He rushed to help his father up.

"An exception never makes a rule, Scrotus," the tyrant continued after he caught his breath. "And it is the gods and kings who decide what is the exception and what is the rule, not the vermin. You can have her, Praetorian Jack, but make no mistake. Her successes will reflect on you, but so will her failures. She will have to prove herself worthy of being the exception. Push her twice as hard and twice as far as any war boy."

"I will."

"Be sure you train a soldier, not a wimp or a whore. If I hear of promiscuity, I'll kill the culprit myself and my sons will punish her."

Furiosa forced herself not to react to the threat. She ignored the fear growing inside her. She could see Immortan Joe's lips moving, but all she could hear was a high-pitched ringing in her ears. Only when Praetorian Jack bowed to Immortan and placed his hand on her shoulder did Furiosa remember to breathe. Immortan and his advisors had already moved on. They were talking over a map on the table. Furiosa lingered just long enough to check that Rictus wasn't recognizing her, then rushed after Praetorian Jack.

As she walked just behind him, Furiosa observed that he had the same mark at the base of his neck as she did, the mark that had been inflicted on her before they threw her into the Vault. She shouldn't have been surprised. Full-lives or half-lives, male or female, praetorians or breeders, all lives here belonged to Immortan.

"Don't put your hood back on," he told her as she made a gesture toward it. "You've lost that right. Don't cut your hair off either. Everyone must see you succeed or fail as a woman. Immortan won't accept anything else. If they bother you, tie them up. Understood?"

She nodded and let go of her hair. There were worse things to sacrifice than her comfort. She wouldn't go unnoticed anymore, so what? She would sacrifice so much more to see the Green Land again.

Ahead of her, Praetorian Jack slowed his pace.

"I'm sorry I didn't do more. But it's the best I could get you."

"It's okay," Furiosa lied.

"No. I understand. I'd be angry too. It was your only defense, and you'll miss it. But even if you can still pass for a boy, when you don't show your face too much, it won't last very long. Even war boys aren't completely blind or completely stupid."

"I'll survive. When do we start my training?"

"Tomorrow."

Furiosa opened her mouth to protest.

"We're both injured and exhausted. Tomorrow, after a good night's sleep."

He appeared to regret that, but Furiosa's trust in him was limited. He promised to get her out of this shithole and give her the tools to escape. That didn't mean he would not ask for something in return. She wouldn't say a thing about the Green Land, but he had to know she had a destination in mind. Maybe he hoped to learn how to get there, or planned to come with her and wanted to become a new Immortan in a new place. Or did he want her body? If she had to trade her body for a chance to escape... Furiosa wanted to puke. She was willing to give up a lot to get home, to make compromises. She would, if she was going to work for Immortan. But where should she put an end to the compromises?

"I'm taking you to the Organic Mechanic," Praetorian Jack said. "And once he's taken care of our wounds, I'll find you a place to sleep. In the meantime, do you have questions?"

A ton, but almost none that Furiosa would dare to ask out loud, at least for now. First, Praetorian Jack would have to prove to her he was worthy of her trust. He would need to work hard for that. Even if he had spoken for her to Immortan, it would take much, much more for Furiosa to give him her trust. For now, and until proven otherwise, he was no different from the other Praetorians of the Citadel, as ambitious, as treacherous, and as dangerous as they were.

"Why Praetorian Jack?" she asked suddenly.

"That's what you want to know? Of all the questions you could ask…"

"Scrotus. Dementus. Rictus. Immortan. Man-Eater. There's an Ace among the war boys and a Dreameater in the workshop. War boys or full-lives, almost all the men take menacing names, or what they think is threatening. Or they have a name that explains their role so that we understand they are useful and that we are not trying to kill them, like Organic Mechanic or History Man. But they are not warriors. Praetorian Jack is not threatening. It's just a title."

This time, she saw the shadow of a smile appear on Praetorian Jack's face.

"Like you said, they all take threatening names. But are they really threatening?"

Furiosa raised an eyebrow at her, half in mockery, half in defiance.

"Seriously, who came up with the idea of Scrotus as a name for a warlord? Do they know what it sounds like? No. It makes them look stupid, or insane."

"Is Furiosa any better?"

She frowned. Her mother had chosen her name. It was the only thing Furiosa still had left of her in a world ruled by the madness of men, not an object of mockery. She had once asked her mother why women with names like Mary Jo Bassa had named their daughters Valkyrie or Furiosa. "A new world demands new names," her mother had said, "and we wanted names that would give you the protection you'll need as you grow up." She had never known how much Furiosa would need help, any protection the gods or her mother's memory could give her. Furiosa cherished that name. It had given her the strength to endure all those days and months in the Citadel. She would not let anyone mock it.

"My name made them uncomfortable," Praetorian Jack finally said.

"What do you mean?"

"You said it. Wastelands warriors make a big deal out of their names. They try to outdo each other, at the risk of ridicule. That I was just called Jack made them uncomfortable. The day I let them add Praetorian in front, I think they were all relieved. I sometimes wonder if Immortan didn't promote me just for that."

Furiosa bit back a snicker. Praetorian Jack gave her another of his half-smiles, then led her toward the Organic Mechanic's workshop, which Furiosa had carefully avoided since she had hidden among the war pups. Perhaps wrongly, she felt slightly reassured to have heard this story. Sense of humor was not widespread in the Citadel, especially if it concerned anything other than stories of guts spilled on the floor. Maybe Praetorian Jack was indeed different from the others. Maybe his promises were sincere. Perhaps he really was going to offer her the keys to free herself.

Maybe… For the first time, Furiosa hoped she had found an ally.