Work Header

These Boots Are Made For Walking

Work Text:

The first thing that Cord did upon hearing that Immortan Joe was dead was… nothing at all, frankly. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. Joe had been alive as long as there’d been warboys and before warboys, well, he doesn’t think too hard on it. Who needs the past?

But the first thing that Cord did when he could do a thing, after all the hubbub was settled, was to get out the chrome stilts he’d hidden that’d given the Imperator Prime a fit. The Imperator roared at him to get rid of all of them, bury down the store as he’d found it in the mall, and never speak of the matter again, especially not to the Immortan.

But Cord thought that “Divine Footwear” was an excellent find and couldn’t figure why the Imperator looked as if he’d brought down Vahalla itself.

“Cord, whatcha doin’?” Bass poked his head over Cord’s shoulder— and after Cord swung at him and Bass ducked and Cord shoved him away a little, Cord rolled his eyes and hauled the box up to his lap.

“Remember those stilts I found?”

“…the ones that made Prime turn all red?  Thought he told you to bury it all.”

“Yeah! Managed to just board up the store, smuggled a pair out for myself.”

“You browneye!  Keepin’ that shiny all to yourself!”

“Ain’t it just,” Cord grinned as he lifted the lid and Bass let out a long whistle.

“Those look to kill a man.”

“Pretty sure there’s good metal in those spikes.”

“Have to be.”

“I'mma try ‘em on, only got a bit of practice last time…”

Gale nudged Janey’s shoulder, staring. There was a crowd of warboys making “ooooo!” sounds as a pair sparred in the middle of the circle. It was parted just enough to see that the combatants were equal in height.

Sort of.

A stiletto heel whipped across a cheekbone leaving a trail of red.

The crowed roared.

Janey’s voice held disbelief, “Are. Are those…”

The match apparently ended at first blood, Cord ran up to her, practically bouncing, heels echoing against the walls. “That was shine! And there’s a whole shop full of these, practically untouched!”

“But they're—”

A pale hand patted across her face and the Dag popped up on her other side.

“They’re excellent.” Dag pronounced, “You should get the rest, for the warboys who want ‘em.”

Cord saluted at her, grinning, and then ran off. Heels click clacking all the way, heads popping up out of tunnels and doorways to check out the noise.

“Innit it a bit strange though?” the Nightingale looked at her. Even in the Old World, boys didn’t much take to wearing those things.

I’m a bit strange,” the Dag singsonged, “those shoes were in hiding, and came out when Joe’s dead. I say anything Joe hated merits a bit of looking into.”

They all watched the warboy run off. It did do to amazing things to his posture, she thought.


(wait, no you need visual reference)