Aug 31: Get Up
Title: Get Up (and Put Your War Clothes On)
Author: Vashti (tvashti)
Fandom: Mad Max, BtVS
Character(s): Max, Buffy, Faith, Cheedo the Fragile
Rating: PG/FR-13
Summary: Max and the Green Place warriors come back just in time for a battle.
Length: ~1160 words
Disclaimer: Only the words are mine, and that’s probably up for philosophical debate.
Notes: Once again, this did not go where I thought (or intended for) it to go. I should probably just give up on planning. Also I decided to write a battle fic. Why did I decide to write a battle fic? Why?
Max tapped Slayer's shoulder. "They with you," he shouted over the roar of her engine.
Slayer shot him a sharp look. "I can see the dust but can't see vehicles. Whatsit lookin?"
So Max described the rigs he could see. He wasn't even halfway through when that ululating Green Place war cry tore from her throat. Suddenly their rig was leaping ahead of the others. The cry was picked up car by car as they passed, until they were as wild and raucous as Old Joe’s war party. And Max and Slayer at the tip of the spear.
He could see the question in her eyes whenever she glanced over at him, but Slayer never stopped her war cry. Her rig never slowed.
“We’ll make better time if I drive my own rig.”
Slayer nodded sharply.
Max wasted no time in climbing out of the lightweight vehicle, along the back. Straddling both, he undid the simple latch that kept the two together, quickly scrambling across the hood of his rig as it continued to roll, the Green Place warriors zipping past. Everything was where he’d left them--supplies thrown into the back, guns and ammo on the front seat. And there was more than enough guzz in the tank to get him back to the Citadel with the rest.
Max floored it, chasing Slayers rig...and whoever was attacking their new Green Place.
*-*-*
“Max! Down!”
He dropped into a painful crouch, ignoring his knee in favor of keeping himself from getting new holes.
He had somehow acquired a machete along with his gun. It had already saved his life more than once. They’d fought their way up to the top of the Citadel, climbing a series of unconnected internal stairs dusty and painfully dry from disuse.
All around him Green Place warriors fought the invaders in the tight corridors. Max popped up, impaling a dirty, half-painted War Boy. The invaders seemed to be a hodge-podge of Bullet Budgers, War Boy survivors and wasteland rats. “Bullet Farmer tryna take whats ours,” Toast had growled at them when they caught up with her in the armory.
“Don’t know who he’s up ‘gainst,” Slayer had responded, a feral light in her eyes. She and Toast had grasped necks and bumped heads before Slayer turned out of the room.
“Good to have you back, Fool,” Toast had said, wrapping the machete around his waist along with a bandolier of ammo while he wasn’t looking.
“Max.”
“Live and I’ll remember. Die and I won’t care.” Then she’d grabbed his neck and smacked their heads together before pushing him away.
The armory was the best guarded area of the Citadel, after Old Joe’s room and the gardens above. But it had also been the treasury, near the bottom of the tower, with it’s own hidden air shaft and fresh flowing water.
They had been fighting their way up ever since.
“Max! Take point!” one of the Green Place warriors shouted. It might have been Slayer, but just as likely not. The two of them had been trading leads, but all the young women knew his name--and his skill.
He led the way into the next room.
And almost got a blackened wooden staff through his gut. Some instinct honed out of long survival pulled him back. Not before he took a blow to the chest though.
Which was quickly followed a strike to his arm, and a blow to the solar plexus. Max was coughing and on his knees in seconds. He felt the air shift as whoever had attacked him geared up for a blow meant to kill.
“Mother Buffy, no!” That was Slayer. “It’s Max the Fool. He’s with us.”
The blow never came. “Furiosa’s boo bear?”
Still trying to breath, Max looked up at his attacker. She was as old as any of the Vuvalini, probably older. Her face was deeply line and weather-beaten, but her green eyes were sharp and sparkling. Like the other Green Place warriors, she seemed to be physically perfect. Max couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so many elders, genuine elders, alive and well.
Mother Buffy whistled. “Furiosa’s got good taste. If I was a hundred years older, we’d have to talk. But right now, we’ve got a city to save.
“Aby, how’s it looking?”
Slayer--or Aby--quickly gave Mother Buffy their current status. “Good,” she said in response. “You guys came back just in time. We’ve got the skills, but they’ve got numbers. This would’ve gone all darkness before the dawn if you hadn’t shown up.”
Max stared, but Slayer Aby gave her a fierce grin. “The Mothers are always drilling us about timing.”
“Last minute is the best minute?”
Slayer Aby’s grin only grew.
“Alright, alright! We’ve got work to do. Take Max, Libby--”
“Lavvy--”
“Whatever, and Thyme up to Faith and the others, and *guard that door*!”
“Yes, ma’am!” Aby sprinted out of the room to get the other two.
Struggling to his feet, Max said, “You’re their Mother.”
Mother Buffy made a rude sound. “Try again next decade, Tall, Dark and Scruffy.”
“Wha--” But Slayer Aby rushed in with the other young women. “We’re ready, Mother Buffy.”
“If you see Bon-bon--”
“Ribbon.”
“Whatever. Take her up with you. We need another sharp-shooter”
Slayer Aby nodded sharply, grasping Mother Buffy’s arm before passing deeper into the Citadel. Last to go up, Max watched her join the fray.
*-*-*
Still watching their backs, and so he was the last one to enter the room. And the only one that Slayer Aby didn’t introduce.
“No!” rang sharply behind him. But he looked back in time to have the sharp end of a gleaming red axe.
“Mother,” he breathed. She looked a lot like the deadly old woman below, but dark-eyed and possibly even more battle hungry. “Mother Faith.”
The axe dug a little deeper into his neck. “Just the Mother to you.”
Max grunted.
“Damn he’s cute. Y’all are sure I don’t have to kill him.”
Cheedo broke free from the knot of women in the room. “Mother!” Her hand landed on the old woman’s shoulder. “This is Furiosa’s Fool.”
She turned and spat over her shoulder. “Should’ve known he was taken.”
Max made a noise...gesturing to the axe at his neck.
“Oh. Yeah. That.” The Mother pulled the axe away. Then she turned to the still stunned women in the room. “Chop chop people! Unless you want to see us overrun by Bullet Buggers. Ribbon, go up and help Furiosa. Lavender, Thyme, Abundance, go to your stations. Chee-chee, you’re stickin’ with me. And Fool--”
“Max.”
“Whatever, kid. What can you do? You any good at sharp-shooting?”
Max nodded.
“Well get out of here! Abundance! Point him.”
Slayer--Aby--Abundance winked and slapped his shoulder even as the Mother’s words followed them down the stone hall. “Are we fighting a war or having a social club? Jesus!”
“Your Mothers are... They’re not what I thought.”
Slayer Abundance laughed. “None of them are.”
Fin[ite]
Notes2: Happy End of the FAD everyone! I have so enjoyed reading everyone's stories. It's amazing every year, and this year doesn't disappoint. I wish I had gotten this story in on time for 8/30, but maybe I'll post a bonus and finally put this I-had-no-intentions-of-this-being-a-series to rest.
Author: Vashti (tvashti)
Fandom: Mad Max, BtVS
Character(s): Max, Buffy, Faith, Cheedo the Fragile
Rating: PG/FR-13
Summary: Max and the Green Place warriors come back just in time for a battle.
Length: ~1160 words
Disclaimer: Only the words are mine, and that’s probably up for philosophical debate.
Notes: Once again, this did not go where I thought (or intended for) it to go. I should probably just give up on planning. Also I decided to write a battle fic. Why did I decide to write a battle fic? Why?
Max tapped Slayer's shoulder. "They with you," he shouted over the roar of her engine.
Slayer shot him a sharp look. "I can see the dust but can't see vehicles. Whatsit lookin?"
So Max described the rigs he could see. He wasn't even halfway through when that ululating Green Place war cry tore from her throat. Suddenly their rig was leaping ahead of the others. The cry was picked up car by car as they passed, until they were as wild and raucous as Old Joe’s war party. And Max and Slayer at the tip of the spear.
He could see the question in her eyes whenever she glanced over at him, but Slayer never stopped her war cry. Her rig never slowed.
“We’ll make better time if I drive my own rig.”
Slayer nodded sharply.
Max wasted no time in climbing out of the lightweight vehicle, along the back. Straddling both, he undid the simple latch that kept the two together, quickly scrambling across the hood of his rig as it continued to roll, the Green Place warriors zipping past. Everything was where he’d left them--supplies thrown into the back, guns and ammo on the front seat. And there was more than enough guzz in the tank to get him back to the Citadel with the rest.
Max floored it, chasing Slayers rig...and whoever was attacking their new Green Place.
*-*-*
“Max! Down!”
He dropped into a painful crouch, ignoring his knee in favor of keeping himself from getting new holes.
He had somehow acquired a machete along with his gun. It had already saved his life more than once. They’d fought their way up to the top of the Citadel, climbing a series of unconnected internal stairs dusty and painfully dry from disuse.
All around him Green Place warriors fought the invaders in the tight corridors. Max popped up, impaling a dirty, half-painted War Boy. The invaders seemed to be a hodge-podge of Bullet Budgers, War Boy survivors and wasteland rats. “Bullet Farmer tryna take whats ours,” Toast had growled at them when they caught up with her in the armory.
“Don’t know who he’s up ‘gainst,” Slayer had responded, a feral light in her eyes. She and Toast had grasped necks and bumped heads before Slayer turned out of the room.
“Good to have you back, Fool,” Toast had said, wrapping the machete around his waist along with a bandolier of ammo while he wasn’t looking.
“Max.”
“Live and I’ll remember. Die and I won’t care.” Then she’d grabbed his neck and smacked their heads together before pushing him away.
The armory was the best guarded area of the Citadel, after Old Joe’s room and the gardens above. But it had also been the treasury, near the bottom of the tower, with it’s own hidden air shaft and fresh flowing water.
They had been fighting their way up ever since.
“Max! Take point!” one of the Green Place warriors shouted. It might have been Slayer, but just as likely not. The two of them had been trading leads, but all the young women knew his name--and his skill.
He led the way into the next room.
And almost got a blackened wooden staff through his gut. Some instinct honed out of long survival pulled him back. Not before he took a blow to the chest though.
Which was quickly followed a strike to his arm, and a blow to the solar plexus. Max was coughing and on his knees in seconds. He felt the air shift as whoever had attacked him geared up for a blow meant to kill.
“Mother Buffy, no!” That was Slayer. “It’s Max the Fool. He’s with us.”
The blow never came. “Furiosa’s boo bear?”
Still trying to breath, Max looked up at his attacker. She was as old as any of the Vuvalini, probably older. Her face was deeply line and weather-beaten, but her green eyes were sharp and sparkling. Like the other Green Place warriors, she seemed to be physically perfect. Max couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen so many elders, genuine elders, alive and well.
Mother Buffy whistled. “Furiosa’s got good taste. If I was a hundred years older, we’d have to talk. But right now, we’ve got a city to save.
“Aby, how’s it looking?”
Slayer--or Aby--quickly gave Mother Buffy their current status. “Good,” she said in response. “You guys came back just in time. We’ve got the skills, but they’ve got numbers. This would’ve gone all darkness before the dawn if you hadn’t shown up.”
Max stared, but Slayer Aby gave her a fierce grin. “The Mothers are always drilling us about timing.”
“Last minute is the best minute?”
Slayer Aby’s grin only grew.
“Alright, alright! We’ve got work to do. Take Max, Libby--”
“Lavvy--”
“Whatever, and Thyme up to Faith and the others, and *guard that door*!”
“Yes, ma’am!” Aby sprinted out of the room to get the other two.
Struggling to his feet, Max said, “You’re their Mother.”
Mother Buffy made a rude sound. “Try again next decade, Tall, Dark and Scruffy.”
“Wha--” But Slayer Aby rushed in with the other young women. “We’re ready, Mother Buffy.”
“If you see Bon-bon--”
“Ribbon.”
“Whatever. Take her up with you. We need another sharp-shooter”
Slayer Aby nodded sharply, grasping Mother Buffy’s arm before passing deeper into the Citadel. Last to go up, Max watched her join the fray.
*-*-*
Still watching their backs, and so he was the last one to enter the room. And the only one that Slayer Aby didn’t introduce.
“No!” rang sharply behind him. But he looked back in time to have the sharp end of a gleaming red axe.
“Mother,” he breathed. She looked a lot like the deadly old woman below, but dark-eyed and possibly even more battle hungry. “Mother Faith.”
The axe dug a little deeper into his neck. “Just the Mother to you.”
Max grunted.
“Damn he’s cute. Y’all are sure I don’t have to kill him.”
Cheedo broke free from the knot of women in the room. “Mother!” Her hand landed on the old woman’s shoulder. “This is Furiosa’s Fool.”
She turned and spat over her shoulder. “Should’ve known he was taken.”
Max made a noise...gesturing to the axe at his neck.
“Oh. Yeah. That.” The Mother pulled the axe away. Then she turned to the still stunned women in the room. “Chop chop people! Unless you want to see us overrun by Bullet Buggers. Ribbon, go up and help Furiosa. Lavender, Thyme, Abundance, go to your stations. Chee-chee, you’re stickin’ with me. And Fool--”
“Max.”
“Whatever, kid. What can you do? You any good at sharp-shooting?”
Max nodded.
“Well get out of here! Abundance! Point him.”
Slayer--Aby--Abundance winked and slapped his shoulder even as the Mother’s words followed them down the stone hall. “Are we fighting a war or having a social club? Jesus!”
“Your Mothers are... They’re not what I thought.”
Slayer Abundance laughed. “None of them are.”
Fin[ite]
Notes2: Happy End of the FAD everyone! I have so enjoyed reading everyone's stories. It's amazing every year, and this year doesn't disappoint. I wish I had gotten this story in on time for 8/30, but maybe I'll post a bonus and finally put this I-had-no-intentions-of-this-being-a-series to rest.