The Mediocre Chair

icarus-suraki:

wasteland-scraps:

i-heart-war-boys:

EDIT: Based on this post  written by hellonorik

It wasn’t so bad when his legs stopped working. He could still work the turrets, still throw a thunderstick, still go out in a blaze of historic glory with the rest of his brothers. But when the lumps and bumps made his good arm go all tingly and limp, Nails knew he was going to die soft, the gates of Valhalla forever closed to him.

The war drums sounded. Nails tried to ignore how his heart beat in time with them, adrenaline coursing through his veins in preparation for a battle he wouldn’t fight, couldn’t even witness. He closed his eyes and accepted the darkness. There would be no shiny chrome eternity for him.

Someone flicked the side of his head. Nails opened his eyes, blinking from the glare of the harsh light. His driver, Chuck, was standing over him.

“Wake up ya lazy smeg! Can’tcha hear the drums? We gotta go do war!” 

Nails wanted to tell him to go away, remind him that he was no good, far too soft now to do war, but Chuck was already sliding strong arms under his and hauling him to his feet. Stint was there too, mad grin on his face. The war drums always got the gunner worked up into a frenzy. 

The two war boys got on either side of Nails and together the they made their way to the vehicle bay.

“We made you a spot, a lookout post, special on the side of the rig,” Stint was saying, nodding his head with ever word. “Calling it the mediocre chair on account of you always being so mediocre. Remember when you dropped that thundestick and almost took out the war rig? Thought Furiosa was going to turn you into boots.” 

He did remember, but now…

“And that time when you tripped and pushed Rown right into that buzzard car? Kid’s still picking metal out of his teeth.” Chuck was shaking his head, smiling. “You’re a real crap war boy, Nails, but you’re our crap war boy and we’ll get you to Valhalla yet.” 

Nails felt his heart do something funny in his chest, like the lumps and bumps were grabbing hold of it and squeezing. If they were, he didn’t care. They were war boys, kami-crazy war boys, and they would grab the sun together or die trying.

EDIT: wasteland-scraps will surely want to see this!

Oh my. 

You guys ;_;

I don’t usually reblog fic but oh holy v8, y’all…!

Reposted from http://ift.tt/1V3EMh5.

Tags: okay, which, fury road, text post, the mediocre chair, i now accept as the appropriate in-world name, thank you for helping me see.

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