Well, this is rust. The numbers they're facing are overwhelming, they've got limited ammunition, and now the three of them are in the open and their enemies have rifles. Furiosa has to admit all of that would bother her less if she were in a vehicle rather than on foot.
It's minimal mental effort to transpose what's happening around her to her own world. A downed rig, a minimal crew, dunes of sand instead of snowbanks, a group from a rival roadgang--scavs or Buzzards--and incoming fire. Turning to run would be poor strategy. There's no way they could run fast enough on flat, solid ground to get out of rifle range in time to not be picked off like tin cans on a fence post. Standing and fighting is the only option, but standing where they are will not make them any harder to shoot down.
"Eyes right! Circle, circle, put the ship between us and them!" She yells at Palmer and the droid, "Try and stay low!"
Doesn't look like bullets coming at them, but she's pretty sure a direct hit would kill them nonetheless.
Following her own advice, she takes a couple running steps to the side, then drops into a crouch to aim. The Glock barks out three times before suddenly there's Harley flipping through the lot of them, with fire in her wake.
Furiosa appreciates a good explosion, and while she'll wait until the debris settles to decide whether they're about to die or not, she lets out a cry of approval, a wordless, bloodcurdling whoop like a predatory bird's shriek. Nice one!
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It's minimal mental effort to transpose what's happening around her to her own world. A downed rig, a minimal crew, dunes of sand instead of snowbanks, a group from a rival roadgang--scavs or Buzzards--and incoming fire. Turning to run would be poor strategy. There's no way they could run fast enough on flat, solid ground to get out of rifle range in time to not be picked off like tin cans on a fence post. Standing and fighting is the only option, but standing where they are will not make them any harder to shoot down.
"Eyes right! Circle, circle, put the ship between us and them!" She yells at Palmer and the droid, "Try and stay low!"
Doesn't look like bullets coming at them, but she's pretty sure a direct hit would kill them nonetheless.
Following her own advice, she takes a couple running steps to the side, then drops into a crouch to aim. The Glock barks out three times before suddenly there's Harley flipping through the lot of them, with fire in her wake.
Furiosa appreciates a good explosion, and while she'll wait until the debris settles to decide whether they're about to die or not, she lets out a cry of approval, a wordless, bloodcurdling whoop like a predatory bird's shriek. Nice one!