Vultana wasn't stupid.  She saw the wolf lick his lips, and knew what he was thinking as he ordered her to turn around.  As she slowly began to obey, she kept her expression frightened and teary-eyed, but inside she felt a thrill of combined excitement and fear.  He was falling for it... and he intended to<span style="font-style: italic">eat</span>her alive... and for all she knew, he intended to<span style="font-style: italic">play</span>with his meal first.  She shivered, unable to control it, but hoped he would see it as a shiver of terror and not... whatever it really was.  She wasn't sure of it herself, really...<br/><br/>She turned away from him, and flexed her wings a bit, lifting them slightly away from herself so he could get a good look at her back and rump.  She grunted, not entirely acting, as doing so<span style="font-style: italic">did</span>cause her wound some pain.  Still, she stood there, her back to him, allowing him to see her slim feathery form with its patches of rough skin and her butt, lifting her tailfeathers somewhat to expose herself to him.  She knew he wanted her to turn completely, but pretended not to... instead, she brought both her hands --- one more slowly, as it left her wound --- down behind her back, a standard position for a slave to be bound.  It was an action she'd done so many times in the past that its authenticity couldn't be denied.<br/><br/>She knew she was taking a risk.  Letting herself be bound would not be wise... but then, not flying away while she'd had the chance was a risk as well.  But she hadn't seen any rope in his equipment, and didn't think the Bitch's soldiers would be carrying cuffs in a war situation like this.  Even if he did, she didn't think he'd swallow cuffs along with his meal... and even if he did... hell, even that thought was making her tremble with excited fear.<br/><br/><span style="font-style: italic">I'm... quite insane, aren't I</span>?  She thought vaguely.  Out loud she whimpered, "P-please, Master... please don't eat me... I-I... I'll do anything you ask..."<br/><br/>Those words, she suspected, would only reinforce his intention to swallow her down... and the thought set her to trembling even more, though she still couldn't say it was from terror.<br/><br/>--- --- --- ---<br/><br/>Dreamer had been watching and waiting as Kitten drove toward him and passed him.  He'd been trying to keep his attention on Yuri, but his chief concern at that point had been the car... and with a roar of the engine and a squeal of tires, he was proven sadly correct about the danger.<br/><br/>He'd been going through possibilities in his mind already, in case the car came at him... he had the reflexes to dodge aside virtually effortlessly if he wanted, though that would leave his friends completely exposed.  He could also step aside and drive his right fist into the side of the car as it passed, powering it sideways and away from the station wagon with his friends inside... hopefully.  Hell, he could drop flat to his back on the ground and push upward with that arm of his, and he would have enough strength to flip the car onto its side, even as heavy as it was.<br/><br/>But all those reactions would expose Kitten, Sherra, Feldana... and Maeve.  And that, he refused to do.  He preferred to take the hit, and die, to risking the cars colliding and injuring, let alone killing, any of them.  Unfortunately, Yuri's ally had chosen the group's best weapon to use against the ancient enhanced soldier...<br/><br/>Dreamer's skin was reinforced against bullets and blades; his back was cybered to compensate for the strength of his cybernetic combat arm, and there were linked implants throughout his body to amplify his reflexes.  However most of his bones were very human, and very much breakable.  A salvo of bullets to his chest would hurt like hell, but his skin would hold them out... whereas the impact of an onrushing car wouldn't break his skin, but could certainly crush his ribcage.  His best reaction now, therefore, would be any one that got him the hell out of the way.<br/><br/>But he would not do that... he would not expose the others.  Even at the expense of his own life.<br/><br/>Kitten was even with him as the sedan started forward.  By the time the car actually started forward after the wheels skidded, the driver would have to turn a bit if he wanted to hit the station wagon dead center... unless his aim was Dreamer only, which seemed likely by the way he was staring right at him.  Still, even dodging the opposite way, drawing the sedan away from the station wagon, was too risky for Maeve and the others... Dreamer wouldn't do it.  Instead, his reflexes kicking in, he actually moved<span style="font-style: italic">toward</span>the sedan as it accelerated, and stepped sideways just enough that he would be center with it should the driver swerve after Maeve and the others.  Then, using every ounce of power he could draw out of it, he swung his right arm straight down like a hammer, right onto the front center of the car's hood.<br/><br/>The arm was an advanced combat limb, expensive back in the day, even experimental.  He'd heard it referred to as a<span style="font-style: italic">class five point five</span>.  It was made of the finest alloys humans had known in the day, with the strongest hydraulic systems they could put into such a compact form.<br/><br/>He couldn't simply "catch" the car and hold it there; even if his legs hadn't still been mostly human, it was simply a matter of mass... light human, multi-ton sedan.  The car would win, period.  Therefore, he aimed to transfer its momentum instead... slamming it down into the ground and breaking its axle, possibly pinning it in place and causing its hind end to rise.  He didn't consider that his vulnerable legs would surely be shattered if the car didn't stop dead... he simply<span style="font-style: italic">would not</span>let the vehicle hit his friends.