"Where must we go, we who wander this wasteland, in search of our better selves?"
-The First History Man
Once upon a time an unlucky wanderer crossed the path of the warlord Immortan Joe. Or perhaps not so unlucky, because the wanderer, the nameless road warrior, wanted nothing more than to survive, and while he did survive, he also found some sort of redemption. Some sort of hope.
Because in crossing the path of Immortan Joe, he also crossed the path of women looking for escape, for green, for home. For redemption. For hope.
He was such a man, Furiosa thought, that she would keep, but would not ask to stay. She called him the best thing she could: trustworthy.
And in the end, they brought him home.
(He left again. The road was his home, not the citadel in the sky, but he would always be welcome there and they would tell his story to their children and their children's children, and he would be named their friend.)