Mad Max Villains

Mad Max Villains

You see! There is no escape! The Humungus Rules the Wasteland!

Chapter Fifteen

Burn in Hell

(Words & Music by: Tipton & Downing)

Speak to me
Of those days I won't forget
Your worst dreams
Has just returned - to pay you back
I'm still laughing
There's not much else I can do
But one's thing's certain
I'm coming back for you

Have you got a gun
Do you remember well
Who you used it on
It's time to burn in Hell

Say my name
I can hear you whisper
Not to blame?
You are going to blister
Scream in the night
I've been counting the days
It's so amusing
To see you again
~~~

A new day. Wez thought it only appropriate a new day would be dawning as they raced across the wasteland. The New City came into view through his binoculars. He gave a grunt, the rage still coiling through his soul since he'd never been forced to buckle since he'd been a fifteen-year-old teenager in prison. And instead of a warden, guards and the entire judicial system pulling the strings, this time the puppeteer happened to be a beautiful, cunning, sadistic minx.

His eyes locked on the deep mote encircling the perimeter and behind that sharp, coiled, sheet metal-lined fencing was another fence. Now he trained his binoculars on the four watch towers, each located at every corner, facing the east, west, south and north. Again he glanced to the deep trench encircling the community. Water filled the ditch and he guessed something else. There was a good reason why the people standing outside the main gate, all shouting, desperate to get inside, were not attempting to cross the mote.

Golden Youth. His mate was somewhere in that hellhole.

His thoughts turned to when the minx first bested him. Yeah, at the time when he chased that hellcat across the wasteland, he admired how Iason had been the only man on this earth who happened to be bold, cunning and courageous enough to challenge him, but now that his mate was in danger, no longer did he admire the blond bitch.

He was outraged by the hellcat's audacity, daring to interfere in his life by ordering him to kill Admiral Ramses. He was not some flunky who went around performing someone else's dirty work. Nor did he like being an underling. If not for his lover, he would have told the bitch to fuck off.

Yeah, thanks to the Humungus and those Smegma Crazies, he may have fucked up one battle with Pappagello and those defenders, but this was one battle he refused to lose.

*****

Iason stood on the watch tower, his telescope trained on the approaching vehicles: a red battle truck and four motorcycles. Perfect. The neanderthal was arriving just as expected, and even a day early. Now he giggled since Wez rode shotgun, no doubt still smarting from the gunshot wound in that muscular thigh.

He lowered the telescope.

"Perhaps they are nomads who will try and attack?" the guard asked.

Iason snorted in disgust. Idiot. He faced the big man, wrinkling his nose with displeasure. "I hardly think seven men with only one vehicle and four motorcycles would be bold enough to attack the community. Use your brain, fool," he snapped. Then he handed the guard his telescope. "I must head to my quarters and dress. It is that day again, when I must meet with the vermin and decide who shall reside in the city."

He turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, slowly making his way down the watch tower. Yes, everything was going according to plan. He had the Golden Youth locked up in his apartment and now the neanderthal was riding in, ready to save the day.

Another giggle. Vashta waited at the bottom and Iason held out his hand. Sure enough the big lug assisted him.

"I take it he's on his way?" Vashta asked.

They started down the path that would lead to their quarters.

Iason lit a cigarette. "Yes. I knew he'd show. The Golden Youth means much to the big oaf."

"And do you believe he will accomplish what we expect him to do?" Vashta inquired.

Iason puffed on the filter. "Of course he will. There has to be a good reason why he did not take over that compound, and I'm betting it was due to someone else's negligence. I know him well and he would never fail. It had to be related to the youth's wound. Perhaps his bitch was hurt during the battle?"

Vashta nodded his head. Then he gazed at his life-mate. "If he does succeed, I doubt you are going to give him his freedom."

Iason snorted. "Of course not. You know what must happen."

"I realize this," Vashta replied. "What will we do with the Golden Youth?"

"Keep him," Iason nonchalantly stated as he stood outside their apartment building. "I mean, he's a very beautiful young man and he would make me a wonderful man servant. It would be a waste of beauty to just snuff him out."

Vashta held open the door and Iason stepped inside, mounting the stairs that would lead to their quarters. His heels connected against the cement, echoing off the walls. Vashta followed behind, his brow cocked as he watched his husband move that sinewy body in such a sensual manner. Man, every task the minx performed was exuded with sensual grace.

They reached the top and Iason unlocked the door and stepped inside.

Just then the two slave girls quickly entered.

"Pour me a drink," he ordered the one girl as he took a seat on the sofa. "And, sweetheart, please wake the Golden Youth."

Vashta nodded his head and he started down the hall, withdrawing the key from his pocket as he stopped in front of the bedroom and unlocked the door. The handle gave a rattle as he turned the knob and entered. Now he leaned against the frame as he eyed the youth's sleeping form. Still early, just dawn and the young beauty was fast asleep, curled up with those rose lips pressed deep against the pillow.

"Awake," he gently said.

The Golden Youth slowly moved, and yet, waking from sleep was something he did not want to do. A bed of all things; he actually slept on a comfortable mattress filled with downy feathers. Always, his bedroll consisted of smelly furs and the hard floor or ground. And the robes smelled so fresh and the finely tanned hide was like silk on his skin. Even the pillow was so plush, emanating a flowery aroma.

"Awake."

Now the youth sighed since he couldn't stand waking so early. He thought they'd just leave him in here and there would be no disturbances. So his lids flickered and slowly he opened his eyes.

"He's on his way as we speak," Vashta announced.

Now the youth's blue eyes widened and his heart began pounding with anticipation. The master was coming.

"I see you didn't want to wake until I mentioned him," Vashta noted with a chuckle as he entered the room and took a seat on the foot of the bed.

"I've never slept in a bed before," the Golden Youth softly said as he gathered the covers around his naked flesh and sat up. "Is so beautiful, so warm."

Vashta smiled. God, so damn innocent and as sweet as a melody of a song was this gentle creature. If he was not so madly in love with the vixen, easily the youth could capture his heart. Ever since he first gazed on this delicate rose in the tent, he savored being around this enchanting beauty.

He loved hearing the youth talk. So delicate was the voice, a husky whisper. And loyalty. Never would the Golden Youth turn on Wez. This gentle rose was so obedient, only allowing one man to capture that genteel heart and the lithe, slim body.

"He's a lucky man," Vashta murmured as he placed his hand on the thick robe, leaning slightly so he gazed directly at the youth. "A very lucky man."

"No, is I who is lucky," the youth replied. "Very lucky to have my master's love and protection."

"Okay, I think I'm gonna hurl," Iason snapped as he leaned against the archway, snorting in disgust.

Vashta glanced up and grinned.

"Your neanderthal is on his way and I must greet the big oaf. The girls will bathe, feed and dress you. I know you're eager to see the dumb ox, but I will not allow a reunion just yet," he teased in a mocking voice, the evergreen eyes flashing. "If he wants you, he's going to have to carry out all my orders before I'll allow him any rewards." Then Iason looked to his husband. "Sweetheart, come." He turned on his heel, heading back down the hall.

So Vashta rose off the bed, glancing back at the youth. He smiled and then also left, ensuring to lock the door.

The Golden Youth rose off the bed, draping the fur around his flesh as he hurried to the window. He peered outside through the bars that kept him prisoner. The master would soon be here. And Wez would never know where he was being held.

The youth sighed as he rested his head against the cement sill. He knew what possessed the master to mate with Iason. Who wouldn't want to mount the minx? But yet, he couldn't fathom why the master thought to abduct him. For one thing, he thought himself to be too delicate, too soft, too gentle and too obedient. His smooth face lacked any stubble. His sapphire blue eyes were too pretty and angelic for a man. Yeah, he did have nice hair, falling in layers around his face and the hue was as intense as the sun when at its peak, yet he sure didn't exude the sensual, sultry, alluring mannerism Iason embodied.

Now the youth frowned as he shivered when reality seemed to slap him in the face. What if Iason tried to cajole the master back into bed? What if Wez slept with the blond hussy?

The youth's heart sank and he could feel the fear coiling up deep inside his soul. He placed his long fingers against his lips. He recalled when he thought about how the Dogs of War seemed to be on a quest. His jaw slackened when he realized the master probably did pursue Iason all these years. After all, the sly minx left Wez to rot in prison.

Oh God, did the master want to climb on Iason again?

The Golden Youth hurried for the bed, his soul filling with jealousy when he recalled how the blond whore had kissed the master the other morning. Such a fool. So foolishly he gave his heart and soul to Wez when he'd probably been nothing more than something to mount and pass the time with. After all, the master had probably been waiting for Iason to show up so they could reconcile and take over the New City together.

Now came the tears. He couldn't lose the master. He loved Wez so much. Yet, what chance did he stand? Iason was so confident, so courageous, so stealth, so wicked, so haughty, so arrogant, so sensual, so sexy . . . the list was infinite.

Iason happened to possess everything he lacked.

*****

The guards all stood on the battlement, barking orders and motioning with their lances as more guards moved about below. All were dressed in those familiar black cloaks, thigh high boots, leather pants and mesh, transparent, black shirts. On every guards hip was a long, silver scabbard that housed a sword. Each possessed a rifle crossbow.

Wez watched from the side as the dirty, smelly outsiders rushed to the edge of the mote, eager to be chosen. The people held up their belongings, pointing at what they could contribute to the community. Young men and women had stripped themselves naked, hoping to sell themselves into slavery so they could get inside.

Now Wez's eyes narrowed as he watched Vashta step on the battlement. The big brunette was adorned in the familiar uniform of black leather: ankle boots, pants with mesh lining flanking the side of each long leg, a transparent vest and sunglasses. He knew what would follow next.

"You," Vashta called out. "Step forward with your equity."

Wez motioned at Biff to start the battle truck and with the four motorcycles following them, they steered their way through the crowd, heading for the mote. Vashta gazed downwards at them when the truck and bikes came to a halt since the battlement was located over the main entrance.

"Let them enter," Vashta announced. Then he glanced to the three young men and two girls. "Those five as well. They can come in." Then he turned on his heel and left.

"Come back," a vagrant hollered, disappointed only twelve would undergo inspection. "Come back!"

More people began echoing the man.

The drawbridge was slowly lowered and Biff started the truck over the wooden structure. The three boys and two girls followed on foot behind the motorcycles.

Wez noted the guards kept their weapons trained on the crowd, ready to fire if anyone dared to step forward. Two men were stupid enough to try and four guards released their crossbows, easily killing the fools.

The iron gates were drawn open and Wez's dark eyes carefully took in the outer area that encircled the entire community. He could hear the clanking of iron and he knew the gates had been closed. Guards with rifle crossbows trained on them hurried forward.

Wez, Glory Rider, Mutt, Two Chins, Biff, Racer Boy and Leather Face vacated the vehicles.

"Up against the truck, legs spread and hands on the vehicle," a guard shouted.

So all seven did as ordered.

Then more guards stepped forward and began frisking them.

Wez gave a grunt when his metal-wrist crossbow was detached from his arm. He also heard his knife being removed from the leather sheath. The hands continued to pat down his body.

Finally, when they were relived of their weapons, another guard motioned for them to follow. So they began heading to the inner gate as another guard gave the order for the iron doors to be unlocked. The big doors rolled back.

Wez's eyes locked on the stage as he walked forward. Seated on a throne was the minx, regally decked out in fine leather, a long cloak, boots and sunglasses. There was no sign of the Golden Youth. Two guards flanked Iason and of course Vashta was barking orders at other guards.

"And what do we have here?" Iason smugly asked as he rose off the chair.

Vashta gazed at his mate. "Twelve. The seven nomads possess a battle truck equipped with projectile weapons and four motorcycles. Furthermore, they also have gasoline, food and water. All are quite big and I'm sure they can contribute towards the betterment of the city." Then he gazed at the three boys and two girls. "All fine looking specimens, young and hard-bodied. I'm sure we can put them on the market to be sold."

Iason then snapped his fingers and two guards hurried forward. "Take the three boys and two girls to undergo an inspection by Officer Mortimer. Tell him if they meet the required standards, we can put them on the slave trade auction for tomorrow evening. If they fail the inspection, kill them."

"Yes, General Manning," the one guard replied, slightly bowing. He then turned to the other guards. "Cuff and shackle these five. Take them to the slave building."

Wez watched the five youths being led away by the guards.

Iason then nodded his head to his husband.

So Vashta stepped forward, pointing to the seven men. "Everyone on the stage and form one line."

Wez gave a grunt as they all began climbing the stairs. Then they formed a line as ordered.

Iason lifted his sunglasses, cocking his brow as he slowly walked to Glory Rider. "What brings you to the New City?"

"My comrade asked me to accompany him," Glory Rider replied.

"And who is this comrade?" Iason asked.

Glory Rider looked to Wez. "Is him."

Iason cast Wez a sardonic smile and he pivoted, slowly walking until he stood in front of the big guy. "Well, I guess it is you who should answer. What brings you to the New City?"

It took all of Wez's self-control when he gazed into those evergreen eyes that were filled with triumph. He was thankful the guards took his weapons because if they didn't, he would have slit the bitch's throat and fired an arrow from his crossbow straight into the whore's black heart. His voice was just a gruff whisper. "Chance to start over."

"I see," Iason replied. "And what skills do you and your warriors bring?"

"Many skills," Wez gruffly stated. "Lived in the wasteland for over fourteen years. That not tell you enough?"

Iason looked to Vashta. "Take them to Officer Mortimer to undergo inspection."

"As you wish, General Manning," Vashta replied.

Wez watched the minx turn and a guard assisted the bitch down the steps from the stage.

*****

Wez stood in line with the others. New City, bah. This place was no better than the prison it once was. They had even went through the same inspection. First they'd been strip searched. Then they'd been forced to shower with a solution that was supposed to get rid of lice and other parasites. Once cleansed, some supposed doctor checked them over from head to toe. When that was finished, they were given new clothes to wear with an identification number. He guessed these were the previous prisoners uniforms. Each outfit was the same: dingy, grey polyester with neon-orange striping on the back, legs and chest.

The cell door buzzed and then opened. Vashta entered. "Report," he announced to Inspector Mortimer.

"All are fine specimens," Mortimer piped up. "Considering they've lived in a wasteland for over fourteen years, they're in perfect health."

Vashta nodded his head. Then he turned to the prisoners. "You seven have been selected as new civilians of the city. Once I finish, Officer Mortimer and the guards will give you a tour of the community. Any questions you have, direct them to Officer Mortimer.

"As you all might be aware, the New City is housed within a former prison that serves us well for protection against the vermin of the wasteland. After the collapse of civilization, Admiral Ramses built this structure as a new hope for the masses.

"We operate just like any of the former cities with our own governing administration, medical care, defense and education systems. Just like the civilians of the old world, all must contribute towards the maintenance of the city. But instead of taxes, each individual has their own duties to perform. The former house-blocks where prisoners were once kept are now set up as your own personal quarters. Each cell accommodates two and you will be assigned your roommate.

"The administration building houses the city's leader, Admiral Ramses. Within the building is other administrators of medical, education, water, sewer, entertainment and refuse. The defense unit has their own building that is governed by General Manning.

"Defense is the biggest unit within the city and has the highest level of authority. Without defense, we'd perish like the many other settlements in the wasteland that were wiped out by nomads. And since the city's inception, the perimeter has never been breeched.

"You will have freedom, but rules must be followed. There are no second chances. You break a rule, any rule, and I will take pleasure in ordering your execution."

Now Vashta stopped, letting his words sink in as he eyed the seven men.

"Civilians are identified by the grey uniforms each of you wear now. And conflicts with your fellow citizens will not be tolerated. It is wise to avoid any confrontations since I settle disputes between civilians and I will tell you right now, I detest this part of my job and I have executed many a trouble maker.

"To live within the city's protective walls, citizens are not allowed to acquire their own resources. We will provide you with the basic necessities such as food, water, clothing and shelter.

"If you desire to earn capital to acquire more than the basics, you can apply for a position with defense. I only say defense since none of you possess the skills to work in medical, education, entertainment or the other service areas we offer.

"Officer Mortimer will go over the governing laws of the city, assign you your quarters as well as duties. That is all."

Vashta turned on his heel and left.

*****

Wez leaned against his cell door. Prison. Not a city. After the tour, he found this place to be no better than the juvenile detention center he'd been locked up in as a kid. The rules were the same: lights out at midnight, everyone locked in their cells, all dining was done in the mess hall, entertainment took place at another building where one could engage in sports, socialize with other citizens or watch the shows provided by some musicians or actors. And of course they had their duties they were assigned. Because of his immense strength, he'd be drawing water from the wells and making the daily deliveries to the administering body and the civilians. Well, at least he wasn't part of the refuse team. Poor Glory Rider got to empty the communal toilets.

He couldn't believe people fought to get inside these walls. Bah, stupid vagrants. The cowards were too scared to chance it in the wasteland so they flocked here to have protection and they paid a big price: their freedom.

"Let's go check out the entertainment building," Glory Rider suggested as he sat up in his bunk.

Wez nodded his head in agreement.

So they left their quarters and proceeded down the cellblock. Just as they reached the one door a guard stopped them.

"Purpose for leaving?" the man asked.

"We're going to the entertainment building," Glory Rider replied.

The guard nodded his head and swung open the door.

They left the block area and proceeded down the narrow hall that would lead to the main door of the building. More guards looked them over but no questions were asked. When they stepped outside, the sun was slowly setting.

Wez detested the smell. For so long he breathed in the freedom of the wasteland. Now all he could sniff out was a trace of human waste, sweat, fuel, food and other familiar smells of a city. He eyed the defense building, peeking out behind the education facility. Instinct told him that's where his Golden Youth was being held.

Two weeks. For two weeks he'd have to suffer being apart from his mate and the rage began to slowly consume him again. He wanted to kill the vixen for hauling him into this prison and holding his lover hostage.

Now he had no desire to head for the entertainment building. He hated socializing. "You go ahead," he gruffly told his comrade.

Glory Rider nodded his head, eager to see if any comely women were about.

Wez headed down another path, straight to the defense quarters. When he rounded the corner, he wasn't surprised to see a few guards on the rooftop. So he took a seat on an old bench.

Golden Youth, your master is here. Show yourself.

His dark eyes locked on the many windows, all covered with bars. Now he glanced to the last few windows on the end where he could see a balcony of all things. No doubt that's where the minx lived.

His keen senses caught the flash of gold at the second last window. Quickly, he stood, slowly making his way down the path until he was under the window. Now his heart quickly pounded when he could see the delicate figure. No doubt his mate kept a vigil at the window, waiting for him to appear. Now the figure moved closer and he could see those big, blue eyes gazing down at him.

Oh God, self restraint. He had to fight with himself to remain on the pavement when all he longed to do was fight his way into the building so he could take back his mate.

His eyes drank in the rose colored lips, satiny skin, long layers of golden hair and the slim fingers wrapped around the bars.

"Master," came the soft, husky voice.

Wez shook his head, urging the youth not to speak. Yet, he couldn't blame his mate's excitement for he felt the same way. All he longed to do was climb the walls so he could touch his lover.

"What are you doing?" a guard barked from the rooftop. "Get back."

Wez growled when he gazed at the man. Then he backed off, casting the Golden Youth another tender look. Finally, he managed to draw on his powerful strength as he forced himself to walk away from the building, never looking back, but knowing his mate watched him.

Two weeks. Then he'd be a guard. Two weeks of torture.

Next Page - Chapter Sixteen

Note: "Mad Max" is a trademark and copyright of Kennedy-Miller Entertainment/Warner Bros. George Miller, Byron Kennedy and Terry Hayes (Kennedy Miller Entertainment/ Warner Bros.) hold copyright to the Mad Max Trilogy.
This story is created for fan fiction purposes only. Some dialogue was taken from the script to keep this tale true to the original movie.

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