"Supply runs are never really about supplies," Furiosa tells Kinner grimly, wide eyes darting back and forth across the road ahead of them. "They're about territory and power."
Even if they make it back with the food and repel any immediate retaliation, Furiosa will be very surprised indeed if that ends the war. Winter may end, but if the Fallen aren't all killed or magically evaporated or something, she'd bet the good arm they'll be seeing them again. Which is going to bring up a lot of serious concerns, on her end. She has a settlement of thousands of people to think about and protect.
If the Nexus becomes more of a liability than an asset, the Council may have to reconsider their whole relationship with the place.
Of course, that's irrelevant right now. Right now, what matters is they're being fucking followed by hovering bikes. If it weren't for the risk of avalanche, Furiosa would have insisted on carrying explosives. As it is, she has two dozen incendiary rounds made from modified flares, and a pistol crossbow she cobbled together herself. It won't be enough, but it'll be something.
When Kinner shoots, she watches to see whether there's any snap of blue energy like with the captain they fought before. Seeing none is a relief. She has multiple guesses as to why they're trying to push her into rough territory, but in the end all that matters is that she not go where they want her to.
"Be ready to duck incoming fire," she tells Kinner, and swerves abruptly, letting the trailer behind her fishtail so hard it more or less does a crack-the-whip maneuver into one of their pursuers. If they lose some of their cargo but keep the bulk of it, it's still a victory.
A second later, she repeats the motion, and then uses the sudden spray of snow it causes as cover. She's got her boltcutters at her side, and jamming them between the seat and the pedals holds the gas down for her. With a fluid motion, she swings out on the door beside her and aims the crossbow. It shoots only one bolt at a time, but her aim is good. The Fallen biker closest to her will get an incendiary round in the face before she flings herself back into the driver's seat, panting.
no subject
Even if they make it back with the food and repel any immediate retaliation, Furiosa will be very surprised indeed if that ends the war. Winter may end, but if the Fallen aren't all killed or magically evaporated or something, she'd bet the good arm they'll be seeing them again. Which is going to bring up a lot of serious concerns, on her end. She has a settlement of thousands of people to think about and protect.
If the Nexus becomes more of a liability than an asset, the Council may have to reconsider their whole relationship with the place.
Of course, that's irrelevant right now. Right now, what matters is they're being fucking followed by hovering bikes. If it weren't for the risk of avalanche, Furiosa would have insisted on carrying explosives. As it is, she has two dozen incendiary rounds made from modified flares, and a pistol crossbow she cobbled together herself. It won't be enough, but it'll be something.
When Kinner shoots, she watches to see whether there's any snap of blue energy like with the captain they fought before. Seeing none is a relief. She has multiple guesses as to why they're trying to push her into rough territory, but in the end all that matters is that she not go where they want her to.
"Be ready to duck incoming fire," she tells Kinner, and swerves abruptly, letting the trailer behind her fishtail so hard it more or less does a crack-the-whip maneuver into one of their pursuers. If they lose some of their cargo but keep the bulk of it, it's still a victory.
A second later, she repeats the motion, and then uses the sudden spray of snow it causes as cover. She's got her boltcutters at her side, and jamming them between the seat and the pedals holds the gas down for her. With a fluid motion, she swings out on the door beside her and aims the crossbow. It shoots only one bolt at a time, but her aim is good. The Fallen biker closest to her will get an incendiary round in the face before she flings herself back into the driver's seat, panting.