It's a long time before Nux comes to again, and at first, all he knows is that he should be dead and isn't. It doesn't take long for the pain to come blazing along after that to confirm it. This is no Valhalla. He's not sure at first that it isn't someplace else; someplace much, much worse. Eventually, though, when he gets upright and pain recedes and memory starts kicking back into gear, he starts to understand the truth. The remains of the war rig and the war drums lie smouldering in the canyon pass, what seems like miles of wreckage behind them. Corpses everywhere, glorious and inglorious. And Nux, thrown clear of the battle, bizarrely alive and alone.
After a time, he starts scavenging, because he doesn't know what else to do. He cobbles together something like a car out of spare parts and leaking guzzoline. It's not even close to chrome, but it limps along better than he can. He stows away the few supplies he can find and then... then he makes for the Citadel, because whoever holds it, it's still the only place he knows to go.
Still, he prays to whatever he can pray to now that what he did meant something. That the Wives have their water and that Capable still lives. He clasps his hands in makeshift prayer over the best approximation of a steering wheel he can make, and then he sets out west.
Threadstarter #1: The Fix It Thread
After a time, he starts scavenging, because he doesn't know what else to do. He cobbles together something like a car out of spare parts and leaking guzzoline. It's not even close to chrome, but it limps along better than he can. He stows away the few supplies he can find and then... then he makes for the Citadel, because whoever holds it, it's still the only place he knows to go.
Still, he prays to whatever he can pray to now that what he did meant something. That the Wives have their water and that Capable still lives. He clasps his hands in makeshift prayer over the best approximation of a steering wheel he can make, and then he sets out west.