Seems like Furiosa's 1-0 on ridiculous things so far, might as well continue the streak.
No traps in the dim little hallway, no sign of threats other than that looming metal door that looks even more sturdy than the last one, though in much better condition for being shut away from the elements and sand. It wasn't even locked, and in fact when Furiosa tapped it, it pushed in a half an inch before catching on the half-opened latch.
Not that the Spine had any idea what might be out there at this point. He'd spent a long, long time chained in the middle of the room, only his captor's careful management of water rations keeping him from having the power to break free. He'd tried it once before, gotten a good way out but unfortunately his boiler ran dry before his pursuer's patience and he'd woken again in the room that was his impromptu prison. And he knew what was wanted to give him freedom, it hadn't changed since the first time he'd woken up in this miserable place, but he would be dismantled for parts before he gave in, he decided that the first time he laid eyes on the man they'd called Immortan.
And so he'd been left, with only the regular visits from an old mechanic called Bolts to mark the passage of time, the small rations of water to keep him functioning but not enough to give him the strength to break free again. The occasional visit from the Immortan himself, during which The Spine simply said nothing to him, staring stubbornly as he noted the illness that was clawing it's way through the man further with each visit.
But then suddenly there was nothing. No visits, no mechanic, and for the first time that dull worry that was his constant companion flared up a bit more. That he'd been forgotten. Did anyone other than Joe and his mechanic know about him? Had Bolts finally died? If so, it was just a matter of if Joe realized before the bot's condition deteriorated without that skilled hand keeping him functional. He was already low on water as it was, by the time he heard that thumping at the door there was little more than sputtering steam from vents.
"...Bolts? That you?" Feeling a small bit of relief that he'd not realized he could at this point- if he broke down there was a risk to everyone in the area, including the poor folk just trying to scratch out a living in the misery that the world had become. They didn't deserve that kind of death. As it was he lifted his gaze, expecting to see the elderly mechanic come in, complaining as usual about the doors and everything else around him. And if not, well that deep baritone certainly had scared away those bolder scavengers before if that was what was lurking.
Weakened or not he'd certainly not look it, chained in the middle of the room as he was, the ends of the chains bolted to the floor around him, keeping him pinned on his knees. Even so it was clear that he was tall, the sharp green glow of optics and that dulled glint of metal illustrating that what Furiosa found in that room was certainly not human.
no subject
No traps in the dim little hallway, no sign of threats other than that looming metal door that looks even more sturdy than the last one, though in much better condition for being shut away from the elements and sand. It wasn't even locked, and in fact when Furiosa tapped it, it pushed in a half an inch before catching on the half-opened latch.
Not that the Spine had any idea what might be out there at this point. He'd spent a long, long time chained in the middle of the room, only his captor's careful management of water rations keeping him from having the power to break free. He'd tried it once before, gotten a good way out but unfortunately his boiler ran dry before his pursuer's patience and he'd woken again in the room that was his impromptu prison. And he knew what was wanted to give him freedom, it hadn't changed since the first time he'd woken up in this miserable place, but he would be dismantled for parts before he gave in, he decided that the first time he laid eyes on the man they'd called Immortan.
And so he'd been left, with only the regular visits from an old mechanic called Bolts to mark the passage of time, the small rations of water to keep him functioning but not enough to give him the strength to break free again. The occasional visit from the Immortan himself, during which The Spine simply said nothing to him, staring stubbornly as he noted the illness that was clawing it's way through the man further with each visit.
But then suddenly there was nothing. No visits, no mechanic, and for the first time that dull worry that was his constant companion flared up a bit more. That he'd been forgotten. Did anyone other than Joe and his mechanic know about him? Had Bolts finally died? If so, it was just a matter of if Joe realized before the bot's condition deteriorated without that skilled hand keeping him functional. He was already low on water as it was, by the time he heard that thumping at the door there was little more than sputtering steam from vents.
"...Bolts? That you?" Feeling a small bit of relief that he'd not realized he could at this point- if he broke down there was a risk to everyone in the area, including the poor folk just trying to scratch out a living in the misery that the world had become. They didn't deserve that kind of death. As it was he lifted his gaze, expecting to see the elderly mechanic come in, complaining as usual about the doors and everything else around him. And if not, well that deep baritone certainly had scared away those bolder scavengers before if that was what was lurking.
Weakened or not he'd certainly not look it, chained in the middle of the room as he was, the ends of the chains bolted to the floor around him, keeping him pinned on his knees. Even so it was clear that he was tall, the sharp green glow of optics and that dulled glint of metal illustrating that what Furiosa found in that room was certainly not human.