Mad Max Villains

Mad Max Villains

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

Chapter Fourteen

Tyrant

(Words & Music by: Tipton & Halford)

Behold 'tis I the commander
Whose grip controls you all
Resist me not, surrender
I'll no compassion call

(Tyrant) Capture of humanity
(Tyrant) Conqueror of all
(Tyrant) Hideous destructor
(Tyrant) Every man shall fall

Your very lives are held within my fingers
I snap them and you cower down in fear
You spineless things who belly down to slither
To the end of the world you follow to be near

I listen not to sympathy
Whilst ruler of this land
Withdraw your feeble aches and moans
Or suffer smite from this my hand
~~~

Iason cocked his brow, motioning to the big tent. "Retrieve him."

Vashta nodded his head, his rifle crossbow trained and ready. He edged to the tent, using his lance to slowly draw back the flap. All was dark and he could make out a silhouette, so slim and sinewy like his bitch. He could see the outlines of a thick mane swirling to well shaped shoulders.

No sound was made. No cries or shouts came from the lean being. The smooth chin was held high, so proud and regal, refusing to cower.

Vashta edged himself in closer, still training his crossbow on the youth. And as he closed the gap between them, his eyes widened in astonishment when he could finally see the being.

Only a thick, fur robe covered the satiny flesh, so golden from the sun. This wasn't a boy but a young man. He knew so just by those keenly-defined biceps and deltoids. Yet, the muscles were so lean. He drank in the sapphire blue eyes framed by thick, black, long lashes and the slim, black brows. The bone structure was so delicate, making those high cheekbones more pronounced, along with the gently rounded chin. The lips were so silken, the color or rose, protruding to a slight pout. The nose was slim, slightly long yet so delicate, blending harmoniously with the regal features. The skin was so creamy, and even though tanned, he could see the undertone of rose flourishing within that flesh. Flawless, the Golden Youth was flawless.

Golden Youth. Yeah, he knew how this delicate rose earned such a name. That silken, thick mane was as intense as the sun when at its peak in the sky. So satiny were those strands, light bangs brushing against the forehead, wisps caressing those high cheekbones, and a slight wave surrounding the long, slim neck.

Never did he see such beauty. He only thought the coy minx capable of embodying such delicate exquisiteness. And yet, the youth did not possess the sensual, cat-like movement of the bitch. Instead, the youth epitomized grace, elegance and innocence.

"Lieutenant, bring him to me, now," Iason hissed impatiently.

Vashta slung the crossbow over his shoulder and inserted his lance into the strap across his back. Then his big hands reached for the Golden Youth. The delicate rose drew back.

"Don't be afraid," Vashta said in a soothing voice. "I know you're wounded." His gaze was locked on the wrap surrounding the youth's forehead. "I'm just going to pick you up and carry you outside."

He slipped his strong arms under the knees and he pressed the delicate body against his. His other arm cradled the slight back. He ensured the robe covered the youth's naked flesh. Then he edged himself out from the tent, standing tall now as he walked to the fire.

Wez's jaw tightened and his eyes narrowed with hate as he watched the big brunette cradle his mate. He gave a low snarl, pulling slightly on his shackles.

"Oh, take it easy, you big putz," Iason taunted. "I just want to have a look at your bitch."

The Golden Youth quickly gazed at the master. It had been the gunfire that woke him and his blue eyes were trained on the dressed wound covering his master's thigh. For some reason he did not like seeing his powerful lover chained and wounded. It was the first time he ever saw the master in such a vulnerable position.

"Well, well, well," Iason noted with interest, also drinking in what Vashta did just moments ago. And he too was alarmed, stopped slightly in his tracks as his eyes lapped up the ethereal elegance of the Golden Youth. "Hmm, now I can see why you turned a once powerful man into an ass-whipped, incompetent fool.

"I mean, after all, besides failing to secure the compound and losing an army in that road battle, I see your so-called lover also fucked up again since he failed to protect you," Iason mocked. Then he turned to Wez. "If this was my bitch, I can guarantee you the Golden Youth would not sport a severe wound. I'm surprised he's alive. Looks like someone thought to launch a nice sharp object into his forehead. And you do know he will be scarred for life now.

"What kind of idiotic lover are you to allow this to happen?"

Wez gave a growl as he once again pulled on his shackles. Oh God, he was ready to murder this bitch. He wanted to slap that big mouth silly and then slowly kill the minx. How dare the hussy ridicule him in front of his mate and men?

"And your futile attempt to dress his wound is also pathetic," Iason snapped. Then he looked to his guards. "When we get back to camp, I want those herbs readied since the youth is fevered and he'll need something to rid him of his infection. He also needs nutrients to give him back his strength. Make sure and ready vegetables and fruit for him.

"Nobody is to touch him. If I find out anyone has dared to harm the Golden Youth . . ." He let the threat linger. Then he looked to Vashta. "Burn everything. Have three of the guards salvage the motorcycles. And ensure to chain our prisoners all together and walk them back to the camp.

"Lieutenant, be on full alert," he hissed, gesturing to Wez. "He is full of many tricks, his reflexes faster than a snake and he's as stealth as they come. Don't even give him an inch. Not one inch. All he needs is one-tenth of a second and he will take advantage of the opportunity. Don't you dare fail me.

"Now start up the battle truck. I will see to the youth. You will accompany the guards and our prisoners back to camp."

"As you wish, General Manning," Vashta replied as turned to the truck.

The Golden Youth looked over his shoulder to his master as he was carried away. Their eyes locked and he could feel his lover's powerful strength slowly feeding his own soul. Be brave. Be strong. Don't flinch. Say nothing. Just trust the master. So he continued to gaze at Wez, even when he was set into the battle truck. Yes, he would handle his captivity with dignity, courage and pride because this is what the master expected from him. And he had complete faith his mighty lover would find a way to get them out of this situation.

*****

The Golden Youth sat in the huge tent, so huge one could stand at full attention without squatting. No longer did he possess the smelly, fur robe. Instead, he sat on plush covers that gave off a sensual aroma and the thick furs were new, the hides carefully scraped and tanned which made the underlining as soft as satin. He leaned against feathery pillows, amazed such comfortable bedding existed. A canvas lined the ground, keeping all sand outside. Kerosene lamps were lighted, casting a delicate warmth within the interior.

And his gentle mouth bit down on the berry, so amazed since he never tasted fruit in his life. So sweet was this food, even a bit tangy, melting on his tongue.

"If you think you're beautiful now, wait till you start nourishing your body with vitamins that are required to hold onto one's youth," Iason said as he gathered his satin wrap around his slim body, giving the belt a knot.

"And when we ride, you will be covered. Sunlight is not good for one's skin. Your tan is beautiful but you'll regret having that golden skin when you get older. It causes nothing but wrinkles," Iason continued on.

Now the youth cast the sassy minx a curious glance.

Iason laughed. "You don't have a clue just how lovely you are, do you?

"Can you speak or are you mute?"

"Not mute," the youth replied. "I only speak to my master."

"Master?" Iason blanched, wrinkling his nose. "Oh heavens, you call that idiotic ogre master? M'dear, you have much to learn about men. You are the master, not Alex. You possess all the control, not that big buffoon."

The Golden Youth cast the minx a peculiar stare. Alex? Yes, he knew the master's real name since Wez thought to share with him before they rode over the cliff. But how did the sassy blond know the master's name?

"Your so-called master and I go way back," Iason smirked as he lit a cigarette. "We were in juvenile prison together. I was his bitch." Now he giggled.

The Golden Youth's eyes widened in alarm. The master mounted the sinewy blond? Wez had been this sensual minx's mate? For some reason his heart stopped beating and he could feel his skin growing so hot, and he knew it wasn't the fever. Why did he feel so betrayed? Why did he feel as if the master plunged a knife into his back?

"Easy, beautiful one," Iason said in a soothing, yet mocking voice. "I may have let that imbecile fuck me for three years, but I left the idiot high and dry. We planned an escape together and guess who found their freedom and who was stuck to rot in prison?" Now he burst into another fit of giggles.

The Golden Youth gazed at his lap. Double-cross. Iason turned on the master. The minx defied Wez, using the strong man as nothing but a tool and then escaped. Now why did this hurt even more? Why was he so upset that it was the minx who ended the love affair and not Wez? Why did his heart feel so wounded knowing Iason bested his master?

"Honey, like I said, you have much to learn," Iason purred as he took another puff on the cigarette. "Your beauty is more powerful than brawn or brain. Sex and beauty combined are the most powerful weapons of the universe. With sex and beauty, you can have it all."

The youth held the minx's stare. Ink Man once spoke those words to him when he'd been fifteen. The big biker told him just how powerful he was. And now Iason was once again reaffirming the statement to be true.

"He will do anything for you," Iason said with a wicked gleam in his eye. "Anything. He will risk death for you just so he can keep mounting your body and fucking your hole. He will betray everyone and everything to stay in your bed, beautiful one. You have all the power."

Then Iason reached for the bottle. He grabbed the two glasses and poured the sparkling liquid into the long stemmed cups. "Is wine. Taste." He held out the one glass.

The Golden Youth hesitated.

"Try," Iason coaxed.

"No. My master would not . . ."

"Enough about that pathetic idiot," Iason hissed as his evergreen eyes narrowed. "Goodness, so obedient you are, such loyalty and all for that buffoon. I said drink."

So the Golden Youth took the glass, lacing his fingers around the slim stem. He did not like that look in those cat-shaped eyes. The minx was like a kitten, one moment purring and gentle, then with a flip of the coin, became a hissing, spitting cougar. Slowly, he pressed his lips against the rim, sniffing the sweet essence, so flavorful. Then he slowly sipped and he couldn't believe the taste and the way his insides warmed. The wine was just like the fruit he sampled, but so much richer.

"It is good, is it not?" Iason teased.

The Golden Youth could not believe how quick the sweet cat surfaced again. Heavens, he only thought his master's moods were this extreme. And now he slowly realized the minx was just like his master: cunning, vicious, wicked and without mercy. But the hellcat did not possess Wez's intimidating, powerful build. That evil lurked inside, hidden under a facade of beauty meant to lure one into the trap by tempting one to taste the poisonous buds.

"A thinker," Iason noted. "And I know what you're thinking. And it's all true, sweetheart."

Just then they could hear the footsteps and motorcycles.

"Get some rest," Iason gently ordered. "I have duties to see to." He rose off the robe, glancing over his shoulder. "If you try and run, I will kill Alex. So if you want that big buffoon alive, you'll obey me. Now sleep."

He turned then and sashayed from the tent.

*****

Wez glanced to the bonfire. A pole had been erected, driven deep into the ground. Shackled around the pole was Glory Rider, Biff, Mutt, Racer Boy, Two Chins and Leather Face. Just he was cuffed, chained and lashed to the sand-runner. He sat on the ground, his eyes focused on the big tent where his Golden Youth was held captive.

God, his rage was so great. For years he'd pursued that bitch and failed to capture the minx. And this time the stupid whore had sought him out, easily locating his base camp. Dammit, he couldn't believe how the blond slut kept besting him. And he did not like how the bitch easily conquered his warriors and now held him prisoner. He wanted to kill the minx. If that hellcat dared to lay one finger on his Golden Youth . . .

Just then the big brunette assisted Iason from the fire, those big hands laced through the delicate fingers. Wez grunted as they approached him.

"Comfortable?" Iason asked in his mocking voice. "I see your wound has been redressed. Give it a couple of days and you'll be as good as new."

"Want to see my Golden Youth," Wez growled.

"No, you cannot see him," Iason taunted. "He's mine now. I'm his master."

Oh God, that made the pot boil over and he tried to lunge at the minx, straining against the chains, ropes and shackles.

Iason burst into a fit of laughter. "Oh, how sweet you look, ready to avenge your pretty lover. Well, perhaps if you cooperate, he will be your mate once again."

"Enough games," Wez snarled, his eyes filled with hate. "You seek me out. Why?"

"Get me my chair, a glass of wine and my cigarettes. I feel like finally talking to this big buffoon," Iason announced.

Vashta nodded his head and stalked away.

Wez gave a growl.

"Oh my, if I thought you were an animal while in prison, I'd say this wasteland has turned you into something even worse," Iason teased. "Did you forget how to speak?"

Wez said nothing and just continued to glare a the minx.

Just then Vashta and a guard approached them. The guard set down the chair while Vashta poured the wine and set the glass in the arm holder. Then he set down the cigarettes and matches.

"Is there anything else, General Manning?" he asked.

"No, Lieutenant, that will be all. Just wait for me at the bonfire and once I'm finished with Alex, we shall retire to our tent," Iason replied.

He lit a cigarette then, taking a sip of his wine. Well, he had to agree manhood sure suited Alex. Lord, the big guy's aggressiveness, his powerful muscles, his deep, authoritative voice and his smoldering, intense gaze reeked of sexual magnetism. Even his natural scent, sultry sweat glistening on his taught, tight skin, embodied raw masculinity. Iason swore he could almost smell the testosterone emanating from this man.

"Well," he purred. "I can now see why your Golden Youth is just so enamored with you."

Wez shook his head in disgust. "Only mate with my Golden Youth. So get thoughts out of your head."

Iason burst into a fit of giggles as he grabbed his wine glass. "Oh God, is that what you're thinking? Please, Alex, don't flatter yourself. Why would I want to knock boots with you when I've already had your body?" Then he sipped his wine. "And why would I pick you over the Golden Youth? Please, sweetheart, your lover has you beat, hands down."

"You not touch him," Wez roared.

Iason puffed on the cigarette, expelling the smoke through his mouth. "Hon, I won't touch him. I'm a married man." He gave the ashes a flick.

Married? Alex frowned when he noted the tattooed ring on the minx's left ring finger. "Who stupid enough to make you their life-mate?"

"It doesn't really matter," Iason replied. "I've been married since this morning, and look at how I must spend my honeymoon," he said in a teasing voice. Then he crossed his one long leg over the other and took another sip of wine. He shook back his loose-curled hair. "Instead of having my big stud fuck me, I get to pass the night with you."

"Enough games," Wez growled. "What you want?"

"Hmm, I forgot how you loathe small talk," Iason taunted. "Truly, you are an animal. Just because civilization fell to shit doesn't mean one has to live like a barbarian, sweetheart. When life went to hell, you sure didn't see me living like a caveman. I built my own civilization instead."

"Yeah, New City. So you and your life-mate run it?" Wez asked.

"Unfortunately, no," Iason replied. "This is why I tracked you down. Do you really think I sought you out so I could look at your scary face again? Yeah right. But I do need your big muscles, Alex."

Wez shook his head. Yep, nothing had changed about this hellcat. Always, Iason had a hidden agenda, using everyone and everything to feed that greedy heart.

"And what you need me for?" he asked.

"Well, I must first say I'm disappointed your lost that big gang in the road battle," Iason began as he took another puff on the cigarette. "I see you're down to six warriors now. But, I do believe this is still doable.

"I want you to kill my leader. It's that simple."

"Why not you kill him?" Wez snorted. "You not helpless. I know you take good care of yourself."

"Well, for one thing, he's surrounded by a legion of bodyguards all well over six feet. And besides his bodyguards, we have eight units of strong, powerful men who guard the city, all under my command, but very loyal to Admiral Ramses.

"In order to bring him down, I need an outsider to do it. Someone who will enter the city with his cronies, prove his worthiness and join the guards, and then kill him."

Wez watched those evergreen eyes narrow, saw the malicious evil in those eyes. No soul. Not a speck of humanity. He was amazed the minx actually got married since this cunning bitch didn't give two shits about anyone.

"Brunette man always keep close eye on you," Wez noted since he was carefully watching the camp while conversing with the minx. "He your life-mate?"

Iason slowly nodded his head.

Wez gave a snort of disgust. "Always pick weak lovers, don't you? Always choose men you can control. Is why you ran from me, bitch. You knew you not ever be able to control me. You knew who was master. And you not like it I not stupid enough to fall under your spell."

Iason's evergreen eyes flashed. "Don't flatter yourself, Alex. I left because . . ."

"Words, I not forget words, bitch. I know why you left. You say: you thought nothing of using me. Is your exact words. I hurt the minx. I hurt you. Admit it. You not like that I make you sleep with guard. You wanted me to feel for you what I feel for my Golden Youth. Cause you know I would never ask my mate to do what I made you do . . ."

"Enough," Iason hissed as he stood. "We are talking about taking over the New City. I really have no desire to reminisce about my childhood years."

"And what if I not take over city for you?" Wez asked.

"You know what will happen, Alex. I'll kill your lover. I will rape him, torture him and then kill him. Such a stupid question, seeing how you seem to think you're an expert on my feelings."

Iason took a seat, giving a smug smile, pleased the conversation was working in his favor again. He grabbed his wine. "I am responsible for allowing all people into the city. When you show up with your men, you will have the equity required to get in. I will leave it here with you.

"All civilians must work to earn their keep. When you have worked for at least two weeks, then you can put in your request to be a guard. And, honey, you'd better not fail the try-out because it will be against three of my best whom you must disarm and you will not have any means of defense but your physical strength and wits.

"You need to become a guard since I do not allow civilians anywhere near Ramses."

"You are a good general," Wez replied. "Good right-hand who stop at nothing for safety of city. But your leader is careless since he not choose his second-in-command wisely. You betray everyone to get what you want. You would even turn on your life-mate. If you or him, you will choose you."

Iason gave a malicious smile. "Well, as I told you once, honey, it's me or them, and I'll always choose me."

*****

There was another ulterior motive. Wez sat on the ground, watching the guards begin dismantling the camp and storing all the supplies and equipment into the sand runners. His eyes were still locked on the big tent since Iason had yet to rise. He also waited for his Golden Youth to emerge. So far the only one who stepped from the big tent was the minx's husband.

He'd seen water carried to Iason's quarters so he knew the minx was bathing. Now the jealousy ate at his soul. Was the blond bitch washing in front of the Golden Youth? Was that bitch cleansing the Golden Youth? Oh God, he wanted out of these shackles so he could wrap his hands around that hellcat's throat.

Now his eyes narrowed as his thoughts once again turned to that ulterior motive. Of course the minx had to make it look like an outsider killed Ramses. As second-in-command, the hellcat would then become the leader of the New City and all those guards would easily give Iason their loyalty. As for the one who killed Ramses . . .

Another trap. That bitch! That whore! That slut! He was but a means to an end and nothing more. The minx would set all those guards on him. He would be executed for killing Ramses. Somehow he had to beat this slut at the hussy's own game. He could not fail. His Golden Youth needed him to succeed.

Just then Iason emerged and then his heart filled when he watched the Golden Youth step from the tent. His mate was dressed from head to toe in black, most likely wearing some of the minx's clothing. The cloak covered his lover's delicate body and sunglasses shield the youth's sapphire blue eyes. The scarf hid the rose colored lips and satiny face.

The youth then looked to him. Both just stared at one another.

Then the minx sashayed over as the guards began working on taking down the big tent and loading away the supplies.

"Good morning, Alex," Iason teased. "How was your sleep?"

Wez glowered at the bitch.

"Well, we are off. I expect to see you in two days time. And of course the Golden Youth will be travelling with me. I do believe he will be stimulating company since he's a very intelligent man when you can finally get him to talk. And, well, he's just so beautiful to look at."

"Bitch, I say you not touch my . . ."

Wez gasped and he sucked in the pain when he felt the whip lash his right arm. Then his eyes filled with hate.

Iason snapped the whip again on the ground. "Enough. I will not tolerate this kind of disobedience. And if you don't want to receive another lashing, you'll keep that big mouth shut."

Now he smiled since he was greeted with silence. "Your equity will be left in the battle truck. And this is for you, big guy." From his cloak he withdrew a steel handle saw. "This is sharp enough to cut through your shackles. I will leave another with your men. I do believe with your power, it will take you a good half-day, maybe a bit longer to cut through.

Then he bent down, planting a soft kiss on Wez's cheek. "See you later, big guy," he purred.

Wez snarled, moving his head since he loathed those lips near him, and he also couldn't help but notice how his Golden Youth stiffened.

Iason sashayed away, snapping his fingers as he headed for the sand runner with the Golden Youth and Vashta. The guards began getting into their vehicles as well. Another guard dumped the weapons, fuel, water and food into the battle track. Then he left the other hand-saw with Glory Rider.

A cloud of dust swirled up as the big, powerful vehicles began driving away.

Wez stared at the sand runner which held his Golden Youth. He had no choice but to follow. His mate was counting on him. And he now had to play by Iason's rules until he could formulate a plan with his men to best the minx so they could walk away with their lives once they brought down Ramses.

Next Page - Chapter Fifteen

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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