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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[datbackstory]

The gaze on him was unsurprising, even after the world went to hell he was an oddity, he knew that much, had gotten used to curious and suspicious stares long ago. As it was he just nodded in response, waiting patiently for her to get back far enough that he was assured he wouldn't accidentally hit her should a bolt shear or a chain snap.

"Takes a bit more than this to hurt me, luckily." He replied, shifting hands to get a better grasp on the chains, close to where they were bolted down. If he could get them to give even a little he could unwind himself from the whole mess, nice and simple. Putting his weight into it he pulled, and soon enough with a groan and rip of metal the bolts were dragged out of the metal flooring along with the chains, sending him back onto his behind with a metallic clunk and a startled noise.

[eumenis]

He's going to get some more curious and suspicious stares before long. Maybe open-mouthed awe, too.

She has her prosthetic arm up as he pulls, to act as a shield to her head and face, but angled so she can peer through the struts. She's gauging the weight of the chains, the force he must be exerting, and damn but that's impressive, even frightening.

She wasn't expecting him to fall, though, and that ruins the effect slightly, to the point where she gives a little snuffling snort of amusement, then ducks as a piece of metal goes ping! and ricochets off the wall nearby.

"...well. That worked. You good?" She comes back toward him again, reaching for the end of a chain to help him get untangled.

[datbackstory]

The awe he could do without.

If she thought that was impressive, just wait until he has a reason to exert his full strength someday. As it was, he gave himself a sheepish shake, carefully pulling loosened chains off of himself with Furiosa's assistance, grateful she hadn't just outright laughed at him.

"Aside from the ding to my pride, yeah." He responded, mindful of where she was as he was pushing to his feet. Taking it slowly, paying attention to the shifting of servos and gears for signs of trouble but thankfully Bolt's maintenance had kept him in decent shape, and soon enough he was standing at his full seven feet, peering over at Furiosa.

"Thanks for the help."

[eumenis]

He’s taller than Rictus, if not nearly broad in the shoulder. Probably far heavier, too, given the metal construction, and when he stands up she has a very solid sense of the difference in size and strength between him and her. For all that, though, she’s good at reading body language, and his is very human, except that here’s no aggression there, no attempt to intimidate her. She notes he’s taking care not to step on her as he stands, too.

A huge masculine-shaped metal person should put her more on the defensive, but she feels as much at ease as she ever does in Gastown. That says something. She’s not sure what, yet, but she’s willing to trust her intuition. “Pride heals pretty quickly, in my experience,” she tells him. “Hold still a minute, let me get the chains out of the way so you don’t get caught up again.”

She’s guessing he’s a little weak. A human chained for as long as he must have been would probably be unable to stand, and even a V8 that hasn’t been run properly for a while needs time to warm up. She circles around him matter-of-factly, tugging and kicking the chains and loose stone and metal out of the way. “And you’re welcome. I guess you have a choice now. You can come with me, stay in Gastown, or go exploring. I think you’d better at least let me top off your boiler before you go walking off on your own, but that’s your call. Do you need…oil or anything?”

Awkward. It feels almost too personal to ask him about his inner workings like that, but also necessary. “I’d love to know what the old schlanger wanted out of you that he kept you this long, but that’s probably an ugly story.”

She doesn't need to know so badly she won't give him an out. Not this time.

[datbackstory]

In fact he was doing the exact opposite. Trying to appear less tall and imposing, seeming aware of how intimidating he could be simply by existing and trying to mitigate it through whatever means necessary. Appreciative of her consideration; while he was doing much better for more water, he was still a bit unsteady on his feet yet; balance sensors re-calibrating on the fly after so long kept down. Stepping away from the mess once Furiosa had finished clearing his way, tilting his head thoughtfully with a small puff of steam from between his lips in a facsimile of a sigh.

"Can't say I know what I want to do yet... but that can be worried about later. As far as fluids go, I should be okay on oil but it never hurts to check. That and filters, I was about due for that check when Bolts went MIA." There were crueler ways to talk about inner workings and to be fair he needed to be frank about them if he was going to get what assistance he might need. Either way he appreciated the fact that she'd left it up to him instead of just deciding it needed doing.

"Not as ugly as it could be from what I know about him. Mostly a case of 'if I can't have it no-one can' topped with a egocentric certainty that I'd come around to his way of thinking." Likely not even realizing he'd referred to himself as an object even in that casual sense- it was an issue that without family around to correct him on, he would often slip back into. Plenty of issues there even before Joe had gotten his hands on the bot.

It wasn't the first time military men had laid claim to him after all.

[eumenis]

Furiosa is used to evaluating war boys based on attitudes, speech and body language. At first, it was to vet them as potentials for her own crew. These days she's always double and triple checking before she lets them get too close to the Council. The Sisters are tough, probably tougher than anyone knows, but all it takes is one angry bullet...

Well. Regardless, she's watching the Spine for similar reasons, and pleased with what she sees so far. Big men who are aware of how imposing they are and save the gift for when it's needed are few and far between.

"Filters? Hm." Makes sense, but she rubs the back of her neck awkwardly, moving off. "If you need tools, I can see if we have them...but I don't know any 'Bolts'. I'm probably the best blackthumb on the crew I've got with me." They're good men and women, courageous and loyal, but they're young and not very experienced with war or machinery.

"And nice vocabulary use." She smirks faintly and heads slowly for the door. Egocentric...she could think of harsher words for the man, but maybe understatement is a more appropriate legacy for him, considering how he made himself out to be a god.

"Why don't you follow me for now, then? No tricks, no strings attached. We'll see what I can do for you until you decide where you're headed."

[datbackstory]

That gift was one he was happy never sharing if he got his way. Vow of peace or not, he still didn't like when people responded to his presence with fear.

"Most of my function is pretty simplistic in design thankfully... can do some repairs myself but definitely will need help with others." Aside from a few more advanced features, he'd last had a complete overhaul in the 50's so luckily everything was basic. Gears and pistons and hydraulics. The more complicated stuff was better left alone, didn't need to be touched so long as he didn't get too badly injured that was.

"Gotta make use of that thesaurus I read where I can." Not forgotten, never forget mistakes lest they be repeated, but told like he was. A horrible man who did horrible things and ultimately paid the price for it. Content to let Furiosa take the lead as he was feeling steadier for the movement, paying more attention to his internals for the time being, making sure nothing was pulling or resisting, that everything felt as it should. Better to be aware of any warning signs of problems from being chained up so long before they became serious after all.

"That sounds just fine to me, definitely appreciated."

[eumenis]

Gears and pistons and hydraulics she can handle. She can't help but wonder, though, if it's uncomfortable or even painful to have bits worked on like that. Like going to see a redthumb. Does a metal man feel physical pain? It might be kinder if he didn't, under the circumstances.

She hesitates briefly, then gathers and winds a length of the chain to take with her before going. She'll send a war boy back for the rest. It's good, solid metal, and good scrap is not to be wasted. Just because she has no intention of claiming the Spine as a possession doesn't mean she won't take charge of legitimately inanimate objects around his prison. Slinging the chain over her right shoulder, she nods toward the door and leads him out. "So. As I said, Immortan Joe is dead. So is the People Eater and the Bullet Farmer. There's a little...mm, discussion going on about who will be running Gastown from here on out. If you stick with us, we'll give you a ride, but if not, you better keep your ear to the ground in case you have to make a quick exit."

She's leading him more or less exactly back the way she came. It's dusk now, and the smell of ozone and diesel is heavy in the cooling air. The streets are quiet for the moment, save for the occasional stray rat.

[datbackstory]

Luckily there are procedures in place, ways to cut down on sensation before repairs so that pain isn't something to be concerned about. Not that he'll worry about that until they settle somewhere to get that work done. For now he's focused more on the area that they're walking through. Keeping an eye on things as he listened to her commentary with a small nod.

"Probably best if I stick with you. Can decide if I want to set out on my own once I've got a better idea of what's been going on." He hadn't been out of stasis long before captured by Joe, long after everything had gone to hell though. Disconcerting if he was honest. Some time somewhere safe to get an idea of what he'd missed? He'd certainly take it.

"Don't mind helping out either." Paying his way not wanting to be a burden when he knew things were hard, and just generally wanting to be helpful.

[eumenis]

She nods, turning down a better-lit street. Gastown alleys are lit with lanterns, not electricity. It makes for smoky, heavy air, but there is light enough to see the uneven road by. "You must...have existed before the old world fell."

Because she can't imagine how anyone now would have the equipment, knowledge, or technology to create a being like him. "Do you remember it?"

That's a vague-as-hell question and she knows it, but she wants to see what knowledge he does have. Anything from science to poetry would be valuable. They have old books at the Citadel, but their History Woman is gone. Maybe not all of the old world is worth preserving, but some of it must be.

[datbackstory]

He couldn't help but smile faintly at the comment, nodding in response. It was easy enough to see here for him, the light more than enough for him to see the way.

"I was built in 1896, as a matter of fact." He wasn't surprised by the question; even if he wasn't technically allowed, Bolts had talked with him while he worked, asked questions in a way that made it obvious that whatever information there was? Was hard to come by, scattered. "Aside from a few blank spots here and there I remember all of it. Liked to read, remember all of that too." A soft chuckle, giving a light tap against the side of his forehead. "Photographic memory comes in handy like that."

[eumenis]

She looks up at him (And damn it, that's going to take some getting used to. She matches most war boys for height within a few inches...), brows knit thoughtfully as she tries to parse what she knows of history. Her time is measured in seasons from the founding of the Green Place, and days from the founding of Joe's Citadel, and moon cycles from the end of the Road War. None of that really helps her equate '1896' to today, or figure out how long ago it really was. But she's guessing several human lifetimes. That's impressive enough to go on.

It also firms up her opinion that for all his charisma and savvy, Joe was a fool more often than not. The amount of knowledge the Spine must have is staggering. "Anything you can share with is would be appreciated," she says, and hopefully manages not to sound too eager.

"Not right out here, though. The Rig is parked just inside the bridge gate. We can--"

She pauses at the sound of running feet, distinct in the quiet street, and puts her hand on the holstered gun at her hip. It's a needless precaution, though, because the man running toward them is one of her own crew. He staggers to a halt when he sees her, waving frantically and out of breath. "Boss! Boss, there's somethin' you need to see..."

[datbackstory]

He'd be happy to clarify once he knew just how things were tracked, how the passing of time was measured by folks now.

"No good having all this info if I don't share it." He replied helpfully, an assurance that he was happy to share what he knew. She'd saved him from languishing in that room to possibly die; while it had been chance and perhaps not hard for her, he certainly wanted to repay her in some way that was as close to as meaningful as he could manage.

Hearing the running approaching them though he straightened, not to be intimidating but simply to be alert, optics brightening as he focused on the figure running their way once the man was in view. Armed, but no weapons in hand, clearly alarmed by something, the guess confirmed by his exclamations when he came to a stop. For now? Spine would be quiet, let Furiosa deal with the situation without him butting in.

[eumenis]

She knows perfectly well he owes her a debt. She's a little reluctant to call it in in a serious way. She meant it when she said she doesn't want slaves, but whatever he can give her of his own free will, whether it be labor, knowledge, or simply friendship, she'll take it.

"Throttle," she says, greeting the war boy, and braces him with a hand on either shoulder. "Easy, boy. Anyone hurt or dead?"

"None of ours," he huffs, looking sheepish and grateful for the support.

"Well, it can't be that dire, then. Breathe first."

"...yes, boss. It's just--glory me!" He breaks off, noticing the Spine at last, a glint of metal in the lamplight. His eyes get very round behind the white and black paint.

"This is the Spine," is all Furiosa says, as if she was introducing two war pups on their first day working in the garages. "Spine, this is Throttle, one of my Lancers."

"...um." Throttle says softly, and gives a V8 salute to no one in particular.

[datbackstory]

He's reassured of any lingering worry about Furiosa with the way she interacts with the war boy that came to report. That she was concerned more with her crew's well-being over the more scarce supplies spoke well, giving him a good idea of the sort of person she was.

When Throttle noticed him, he gave a wry, sheepish sort of smile.

"Good to meet you, Throttle." Offering a hand to shake, preferring that to the odd salute that he knew was some manner of religious gesture. Once that was taken care of, he'd just edge back again, both to give Throttle the reassurance of his personal space, as well as to let focus go back to Furiosa and whatever he had to tell the woman.

[eumenis]

Life is cheap in the Wasteland, but Furiosa picks a crew carefully. She knows her people well, as workers and as individuals, and that means she knows they're irreplaceable. Some of them she's even watched grow up.

Throttle looks dazed, not sure what to make of the silvery, 7-foot hallucination greeting him. He does clasp hands gingerly, makes a couple uncertain grunts or mumbles, then jumps as Furiosa elbows him in the ribs. "I know. Enough. Tell me what's happened." That's clearly an order.

The war boy glances from her to the Spine and back, then nods, snapping out of it. "A group of scavs just came in, said somethin' big attacked them on the road."

"Buzzards?"

"An animal," he clarifies. "They brought a piece of it. Said it tore up a car and all, and dragged three of their people under the sand."

Furiosa looks skeptical now, but she motions to him to lead the way back to their caravan. "I'll believe there are sand monsters when I see the teeth, but go on. I'll talk to them."

[datbackstory]

He couldn't blame the man for the surprise and uncertainty when the metal hand he shook was solid and real. As it was he was wiling to stay quiet as Throttle was making his report, unable to help the lift of his brows at the description of the strange threat.

"...I've heard of spiders like that before, they drag prey under through 'trapdoors'... with all the radiation out there now I can't see why it might be possible that caused some... growth." Though to attack a car like that and drag humans underground it would have to be a hell of a lot of growth, even his suggestion is uncertain as he mulls over the problem.

But still, more than willing to follow along, curious to see what they'd find at the scene.

[eumenis]

Furiosa is following Throttle in a businesslike fashion now, but spares a second to glance at the Spine over her shoulder, one eyebrow raised as if to ask what the hell, are you trying to scare my crew? "One vote for giant spiders: check."

"Dunno, Boss," Throttle looks horrified by the thought, but he's seen the animal part. "It don't look hairy or hard. Kind of like a...fleshy snake thing?" Actually, what it looks like to him, he doesn't want to say. It's huge and pink and phallic and that kind of makes it worse than if it were a giant spider's leg.

"Oh, and it smells! Like a thousand-day-old latrine." He adds, with a grimace.

"Guess no one's going to be stealing it to eat, then." She smirks a little, but that's a very real possibility in Gastown. Even if it does stink. "Maybe we'll have time to look it over, at least."

[datbackstory]

The Spine couldn't help but look a bit sheepish at that raised brow; he hadn't meant to try and scare anyone with his musings. As it was he listened to what Throttle was telling them, frowning slightly at the description of it.

"Times like these I'm glad I don't smell things like you humans do." Sure he could take a whiff of something and know what bacteria or chemicals were airborne, a useful thing for a bot versed in search and rescue when chemical weapon use was at it's peak. That might not be as common now, but the upgrade had never been reversed, and in fact had been offered to the other bots as well; being able to 'smell' smoke or burning rubber or overheated parts was a good diagnostic tool after all.

[eumenis]

"There's a sentence I never thought I'd hear anybody say," Furiosa says mildly to the Spine. "How do you smell?"

Throttle breaks into a dazzling grin. He's missing several teeth. "A little bit musty, but he don't smell too bad to me!" If it were an earlier, less apocalyptic time, there might be a cymbal crash after that joke, and Furiosa drops her head into her right hand with a little groan.

She's half amused, in fact, but she kicks sand at the war boy anyway. "Sending you home in the cargo hold for that."

They're close enough to the lot that they can see the Rig now, though, and the dozen war boys and assorted others gathered around in a knot. Whatever fleshy piece they've gotten out of the desert, it's on the ground, and the smallest war boy--probably a war girl, judging from the androgynous build and long braids--is poking at it with a spanner.

[datbackstory]

The Spine had been about to reply when Throttle spoke up, unable to help the startled snort of laughter the enthusiastic teasing caught from him, steam chasing the sound. It felt good to have something to chuckle at after so long, the smile on his face easing a bit at the joke and Furiosa's response, both of which just reminded him enough of his own siblings to have a sentimental edge.

"Throttle that one was pretty pun-gent." He couldn't help it, and he wasn't sorry, not if that little smirk was any hint.

"As far as the details go, the way it was explained to me is there's a sensor that lets me know what chemicals or bacteria are in the air- basically anything other than normal breathable air gets flagged and I get an alert. Was pretty useful for picking up on odorless things that might not do good things to you humans."

Seeing they were drawing closer, he fell quiet again, letting Furiosa and Throttle take the lead on interacting with the others, not wanting to start a panic when obviously tensions were already a little raised from the unknown find they were currently gathered around.

[eumenis]

It's hard to say whether Throttle gets the Spine's pun--he's no better educated than any other war boy, and his vocabulary isn't that big. Still, he knows he's entertained them both, and that's more than enough occasion to make him cackle with delight, ducking the shower of sand.

Furiosa snorts softly, smiling, but she's back to business quickly. "You could sense bad air, then, without it hurting you? What about radiation?"

Not that she has any plans to ask him to be their canary-in-a-mineshaft, but that is one useful talent he's got there.

The group gathered around looks unsettled despite the Spine's best intentions, and two of the scavs scatter to watch from an alleyway, but Furiosa's crew stands firm, watching her body language, and Throttle's. That they're both relaxed in the presence of the shiny metal giant says enough. The girl with the spanner straightens with a nod. She's got some kind of brace on one leg, and she's missing an eye on the same side. "Hey, Boss," she greets Furiosa. "This is our day for discovering things, I guess. Who...?"

"This is the Spine. He's a friend." Furiosa gestures at the robot casually, crouching to study the monster bits. Evidently she doesn't plan on addressing the fact that her new friend is made of metal. At least not yet. She's more interested in the thing on the ground right now. It is, as they were warned, extremely smelly, but not in a dead way. She prods cautiously with her metal hand, then picks it up by what might be the throat, eyeing the maw and the surrounding structures.

"This is not a snake. No scales, no eyes...more like a huge worm. Ugh."

[datbackstory]

He nodded at that guess, confirming the idea. "I don't need air beyond there being enough for my bellows but that's more a side-function than anything. Bad air or poisons won't hurt me." He'd spent enough time dragging soldiers away from dangerous gasses to know that for a fact.

He can't help the slight wince that flits across his expression at the way the two scavs flee when he comes close, feeling a bit comforted that the crew that's plainly there with Furiosa doesn't seem nearly so skittish. Just giving a small nod at the introduction before leaning slightly over the shorter woman's shoulder as she crouched, grimacing at the ugly thing she was picking up.

"I was really hoping it wasn't this gross."

[eumenis]

More and more, she's getting a clear idea of why Immortan Joe wanted to keep him. And, having known the Immortan all too well, she can imagine some of the uses his talents would have been put to. Best for all concerned that he resisted, and that Joe wanted him intact.

A couple of the crew whisper to one another, staring at the Spine and at Furiosa as if trying to sort out where she got him from and what good he'll be--or what danger. Throttle's the only one who seems inclined to speak to him directly, though. "Slimy," he tells him, nodding earnestly. "Even after being dragged in the dust. They said it must've held their truck so they thought they was bogged in the sand. When they got here, they found it wrapped around the back axle."

Furiosa grimaces with mild disgust and drops the thing, only to pick up and inspect the ripped-off end. Some of the people around make little gagging sounds and back up; she just seems to be very determinedly regulating her breath. "It's torn, all right. Nasty thing. Did you say it killed some of theirs?"

The younger woman points to the scavs who've gone to hide in the alley. "They had a caravan, they say. Lost a car, a bike, and three people."

"...well, then, there must have been more than one." She drops the creature and rises to glance at the Spine. "Any theories, other than giant spiders?"

[datbackstory]

He ignored the stares and whispers, not letting on that he can definitely hear them not with as unsettled as they obviously were about him. And in all honesty he was more concerned with the creature that Furiosa was poking.

"It not getting dried out is weird. It's not acidic I can tell that much, so it's not just cutting through the grit that way." Frowning, he leaned over Furiosa's shoulder with a murmured 'excuse me' to carefully nudge it with a finger himself, making a disgruntled noise at the unpleasant feel of it. As she was looking at the torn end, he noted something that he really didn't like the implications of, and as she was moving to stand, he shifted to one knee to pluck the thing up by the damaged end, nudging aside the shredded hide.

"Starting to get an idea here, but I don't think you're going to like it." Because that sure was what looked like the torn end of a rudimentary brainstem that he'd discovered.