It was another "dream". This one though, was foggy and didn't seem so perfectly clear as the last one. He again stood in the wastelands, this time though it wasn't just the woman. There was a fat male, older and suffering from some sort of skin infection. He had the young woman. She needed his help, but he was frozen to help her. His body wouldn't respond to his brain's motorfunction commands.<br/><br/>He wanted to stalk forth and apprehend those whom accosted the woman but he could not. His flickering vision came in and out, blinking wildly without letting him focus. Eventually his system rebooted, but without most of the predestined protocols that he'd been manufactured with. Instead he was left with only an over whelming need to protect this beautiful young girl."<br/><br/>************<br/><br/><br/>Meanwhile back in the real world, M was still hanging from Jacks' paralyzed grip, one that would take a wrecking bar to unclench. She truly was screwed. She panicked, trying hard, using both her free hands and even her teeth in a feral like attempt to unlock the inhuman grip of the Sentinel, but to no avail.<br/><br/>"Where were her survival instincts now? What good would they do her now?" She thought to herself, scolding herself for rushing into this sort of situation so quickly. Shit, after all didn't she have 24 hours, and here she was trying to grab the first fucking android to waltz by. But that didn't change the situation.<br/><br/>It was then that the fact she still had her 'blaster' on her. It was a high-caliber plasma pistol she'd had tucked under her poncho when she'd met Stinky Jim. You know, the one that kept him from raping her on the spot. She still had it in her gear, and that might be enough to blast through the synthetic man's wrist. Sure it would damage him; which might decrease his value to Stinky Jim, but still even handless, he should fetch a decent price. Afterall, certainly a 'robot' could survive simply loosing a hand.<br/><br/>M pulled the blaster from her satchel and aimed it toward the frozen statues' wrist. She pulled the trigger and blasted through its wrist, not knowing what else to do. Her frame fell to the ground, his severed hand still locked around her wrist like a fleshy handcuff.  She knew that the sound of weapon fire would bring the Nightwatch, but she was stuck for ideas. Now all she had to do was figure how she was going to drag her victim those last desperate few hundred yards to the sewer opening where her hovercart waited, and she'd be home free.