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The four times Max kept out of Furiosa’s way and the one time he didn’t.

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Max Rockatansky was not an interfering person. In fact he did everything he could to avoid interfering with people and their lives, at least while he wasn’t on the job. He had no problem getting in the way of someone who was endangering the life or rights of someone else and as an officer of the law, he saw a lot of that. But other than that, he didn’t really like interacting with people. He didn’t even really like having friends because that meant he had to open up and converse with people instead of just solving the problem and moving on. Which is why he still doesn’t understand why he didn’t just stay away from Furiosa JoBassa and her biker gang/family comprised of elderly women and teenage girls.

The first time Max met Furiosa, there had been a car wreck involving a motorcycle and an 18 wheeled semi-truck and honestly, he was a little gut-wrenched at what he expected to find. He wasn’t ignorant to death and mangled bodies. He had seen his fair share of wrecks were people had gone through windshields because they didn’t think they needed to buckle up or were wrapped around telephone poles, cars crushing them into a ragged metal knot making it so that the first responders couldn’t even get them out as they bled to death all because of a five letter text. Before becoming a cop, he had been in the military. He knew what IEDs could do, what Humvees looked like when they became burning metal coffins to any poor soldier trapped inside. He knows what people sound like when they die in painful, slow ways. So, all he could hope for was that the wreck had been quick and the rider had suffered no pain.
Upon arriving at the crash site however, he realized that this wasn’t the case. There were three vehicles involved in the crash instead of just the motorcycle and the Semi, and while hurt, the motorcyclist was alive and not immediately dying. Turns out, the bike had been pushed off the road by a bunch of teenage boys who were either to stupid and distracted to realize that a motorcycle had been next to them, or they hadn’t cared and purposely changed lanes too close to the biker. Either way, none of the boys in the SUV had noticed the semi pull out, a little too straight forward to be able to make such a sharp turn and smacked into the front of the much bigger truck, preventing the boys from getting away with a hit-and-run. None of the idiots were hurt but, the front of the SUV, new by the looks of it and probably expensive, was totaled. There was also a presence of Alcohol in with boys, at least several years under the legal age, so he’d probably be booking them all night once he got the all clear for the medical personnel on the scene.
Max turned to the driver of the semi-truck to get a statement but stopped. A young woman, approximately between the ages of her late twenties to early thirties, around the same height as his own, with short cropped hair, just longer than a buzz cut. Her left arm ended just below the elbow before merging into a black prosthetic. She had this look on her face; challenging but in a proud sort of way. Like if he really wanted to know what had happened, she’d tell him but it might not come out as simple as she didn’t notice the SUV as she pulled out. Max blinked before deciding that he didn’t want to know.

The second time Max saw the woman was just before he was supposed to get off duty from a double shift. He was tired and he needed to go home and feed his dog. Dispatch called through the radio about a 10-28; violent noise detected along with a location. Max sighed, that area was pretty thickly populated by rival gangs and such. He didn’t really care to remember the names, they were always changing and besides, people breaking the law were people breaking the law, it didn’t matter where they came from.
He pulled up to a large warehouse type building and got out of the car, only to brace himself against it. There was yelling and crying and the smell of smoke and burning cars and it took everything that he had not be pulled back into the flashbacks of days in the sand and gunfire, back to fallen friends and broken, bullet riddled bodies. Max sucked in a breath and clenched his teeth. His tiredness both dissipated and hit him with triple the force, whatever. He knew he wasn’t sleeping tonight anyhow. He took another breath before moving his hand to his gun as he set out to the area behind the warehouse where the noise was coming from. He stopped and just looked at the scene around him.
There were three cars flipped over and on fire, another had been driven into a wall. There were at least six motorcycles that he could count along with their riders, maybe more, he couldn’t be too sure. There were five kids, all young females. The oldest one, who couldn’t have been more than fourteen or fifteen, was surrounded and holding her face as blood dripped through her fingers. The other four girls were in hysterics and as the older women, at least 50 or something, tried to sooth and comfort them. There were a few bodies scattered around, and Max wasn’t sure if they were alive or dead, and he couldn’t really focus on them when right in front of him, a woman was wailing on an older man in a way the reminded Max of how a mother bear would rip someone apart to protect her cubs.
Max shifted his weight, bring it down on a broken piece of glass that snapped and seemed to cut the atmosphere. The woman whipped her head around and snarled, but she stopped punching the man and gave him a second to see that she had obviously been attacked in some way too. He surveyed the scene again before turning and walking back to cruiser. And if he waited a few minutes before calling for backup, well, he’s had a long night. When he went back to the scene with the other officers, the women and girls were gone. Turns out, nobody was dead, just beaten unconscious and were later arrested. Turns out Ex. Colonel “Immortan” Joe Moore had quite the list of warrants for his arrest as well as all of the others he had been with, due to which, they were going away for a very long time.

Max had been right, he hadn’t gotten any sleep that night, or for a couple nights after that but, eventually he was able to keep the images and nightmares away. It wasn’t till a year had passed that he come in contact with anyone from that night again. He was on patrol, just driving around, waiting to be called in. It had been a good day. It was calm, there had been no morning wrecks that he had had to deal with, and the trial of Joe Moore ended the day before. The jury had unanimously found the man guilty of weapons, drug, and human trafficking and had sentenced him to at least two life times in prison along with his accomplices who hadn’t gotten deals to rat on their boss. So, all in all, it had been a good day, which is why he was a little irritated to have to turn on the sirens and deal with a driver who was swerving all over the road.
He groaned as he got out of the car, his bad knee deciding that it wanted a part in ruining his day as well as he got out of the car to deal with a possibly drunk driver in the middle of the day. He was surprised how ever to find a girl, no older than sixteen, sobbing uncontrollably in the front seat while talking on the phone. She jumped when he knocked on the glass and looked fearfully at him as she rolled it down half way. It was only then that he could see the scars that littered the side of her face in crosshatched sections on her forehead and cheek and he could hear the Joe Moore trial on the radio. That night came back in flashes as he remembered the girl with the injured face and the speculations of what Joe Moore had gotten up to with the victims of his human trafficking ring. He sighed gently as she fumbled trying to get her license out and started crying even harder, only bothering to look it over instead of taking it to his car and issuing her a ticket. He handed it back to her and gestured to her hazard lights, which she turned on quickly.
He didn’t want to leave the poor girl alone but at the same time, he didn’t wasn’t to scare her more. She was already looking at him like she was expecting him to make her life even more of a living hell. Max leaned against her car, far enough to give her space but close enough that she could watch him as he kept his hands clasped in front of him. He didn’t move an inch until the sounds of a motorcycle came closer, passing them and parking in front of the girl’s car. The woman with the short hair, prosthetic arm, and the look that told him she was in charge, got off the back seat of the bike and walked towards them. She glared at him and opened her mouth to probably snap at him but Max took no offense and moved away from the car. He got back in his own car, waited to make sure they had everything handled, and made sure they left okay before continuing on his patrol.

By the fourth time he met the woman, he was kind of used to her aggressive, protective nature and as long as she wasn’t actively beating people in the street, he really didn’t see the harm in staying out of her way. He had honestly just been wanting some coffee for the long afternoon shift he was getting ready to work, not yet fully awake. Which is, of course, the reason he was already dealing with people yelling.
The woman was with another girl today, one that was maybe ten with long dark hair and was currently burying her face into the woman’s hip as she shouted at another mother. The other mother was something he could guess would be the stereotypical soccer mom and what do you know, she had two boys, currently in soccer uniforms as they tugged on the little girl’s hair. He heard Soccer Mom say something along the lines of ‘boys will be boys’ which sent the short haired woman into another round of angry yelling.
Max had half a mind to turn and walk the other way but, he needed to walk past them so that he could get to his car. He groaned, not about how this woman was making his life difficult, but just the fact that his life was difficult in the first place. Still, he pressed forward and ignored the gleeful look that Soccer Mom had on her face as she asked him if he could he could reason with the short haired woman. He gave a grunt and nodded his head at the woman, hopping to convey that he was on the side with her instead of Soccer mom and her kids as he leveled the boys an unimpressed glare. The exchange didn’t take more than a few seconds but still, he was already done with his quota of unnecessary conflict for the day.

Max shot up into a sitting position as he took deep breath to push back against the trawls of his nightmares. Dog, the Australian cattle dog that served as his therapy dog, whined as he sat down next to him. Dog may have been able to wake him up before the nightmares had gotten too bad but still, the animal always seemed sad that it couldn’t catch them in time. He set he hand on Dog’s head and gave a little scratch behind its ears. He groaned as he got up, shuffling into the bathroom only to remember that he needed to stop by the pharmacy to pick up his refill of pills for his PTSD. Max sighed but it wasn’t too hard, it was times like these that he was glad to have a pharmacy that was open for 24 hours a day and it wasn’t like he was getting anymore sleep tonight.
He loaded up Dog in the front seat and drove the ten to fifteen minutes that it took to get to the drug store. It was a quiet night, or rather very early morning if the clock on his dash telling him it was 4:05 in the morning could be trusted. Max pulled into the parking lot and got out of his car, leaving the window down for Dog as he walked inside, little orange bottle by his side that had his prescription on it.
The woman pushed open the door just as he was pulling it, causing them to physically bump into each other. Her hair was short and the slightly disheveled texture to it really didn’t matter, nor did the way that she wasn’t wearing any make up make her seem any less attractive. Turns out, she was also slightly taller than him. Her face was slightly softer and she wasn’t wearing the prosthetic arm, but in a way it just sort of tied her all together in a way that made him feel in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. After all, he couldn’t judge. She may be an amputee but he’s got a bum knee that makes him wonder whether or not he should become one too.
So he did the opposite of what he had done all the other times he had met her. He didn’t back down and get out of her way like he had done and kept doing before. Instead he stood there, braced himself, and asked “Would you like to get coffee?”