PSL post (for datbackstory)

[eumenis]

Even after Immortan Joe is dead and the Citadel won, they all know Gastown will be a problem. The lack of leadership from the People Eater doesn't make much difference; he was never a war leader so much as a businessman. The ranks of Gastown boys, flamers and polecats, are decimated, but guzzoline draws all sorts of desperates. Where trained soldiers are lacking, mercenaries are easily obtainable. All it would take is one charismatic leader to fill the power vacuum, and they would have the might of a very large city coming at them.

Of course, Furiosa and the Sisters have faced terrible odds already and come out better than they had any right to. She dares to hope even if the worst happened, they could survive and win. But if they can head off trouble at the pass, they should make the attempt. As the only one of them that's ever actually been to Gastown before, Furiosa is the only sensible choice for diplomatic effort. She's not much of a diplomat when it comes down to it. She can talk down a frightened feral, evidently, but diplomacy requires more patience than that.

Still, after several days of meetings in the city--some of them more like physical sparring matches than discussions--she thinks things are going well, and feels like she can breathe again. She slips away from the half-dozen war boys she's brought along as an entourage, and goes walking in the quieter alleys, the hovels on the edge of the marl pits. Half of them are being swallowed by sinkholes, and the rest are foul, but she won't be attacked here. The population is too sparse this far out.

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[eumenis]

When the car rocks and starts sinking, Throttle yelps, eyes wide, and gets tumbled to the side. He's quick to try scrambling back up, but the Spine's fears are justified; the way the vehicle is being thrashed and worried, he keeps getting hurled into the dash and the seats awkwardly before he can reach the door handles.

Furiosa still has her gun drawn, and once she's released she crouches, hastening toward the back of the car where the monster has it gripped. She squeezes off a round or two, but there's no way to get a good shot in. The sand and the car itself block her way, and she swears loudly.

The hiss of steam from the Spine's vents make her turn, wide eyed, and really look at what he's doing. Fukushima. It's a tug of war between a ridiculously powerful monster, and a silver metal man pouring steam and fog like some kind of angel of the Fury Road. She's struck by the image, just for a split second.

Then Throttle hurls himself through an open front window and scrambles away. He's managed to grab the rifle, which is good because as soon as the Spine lets go or loses his grip, their car is going down.

[datbackstory]

He didn't even think about how absolutely ridiculous the situation was, or how things might look. More concerned with keeping Throttle from being dragged under the ground. When he finally saw the warboy all but fall out the window, he finally let go with a startled huff of steam, stumbling back to keep from getting caught up.

Whatever the creature was, it wasn't expecting the sudden loss of resistance, and as the car was suddenly dragged much farther, much faster, there was a screech from under the sand before everything went deathly silent and still aside from the slide of sand into the sumbmerged vehicle, the small pings and creaks of the metal settling.

The creature hadn't cared for being hit by the Septireme like that, and with the abundance of easier prey elsewhere? It was not sticking around for this group.

Not that The Spine had waited to see this, moving to help Throttle to his feet in case they had to run, optics bright as he turned his attention to the car. "...don't think it was expecting that much resistance, it's leaving pretty quick."