"Hmph... scavengers," Dreamer muttered, eyeing the four human men feeding from the cold furry bodies.  "Carrion filth."  He sneered for a moment before smoothing his expression.  "They may not even be actual guards.  Keep driving, Kitten... slow down, but get us through the gap."  He frowned, not seeing any firearms at first glance... though the men could easily have set them down to enjoy their meal.  Bloated as the four were, even if there<span style="font-style: italic"> were </span>firearms nearby, they might not be able to get to them quickly enough to use them... assuming that would even be a problem.  "They'll be sure to at least ask us who we are... I don't suppose it's a good idea to leave witnesses behind..." his old training was kicking in.  Sure, leaving four corpses behind would say something to any eventual persuit also, but not as much as living witnesses.  "Dead men tell no tales.  Stop when you get through the gap... I'll go<span style="font-style: italic"> talk </span>to them..." he paused.  "Unless Sherra feels like using that SMG to hose down the men on one side, and I handle the other side?"  He gripped his handgun and smirked.<br/><br/>--- --- --- ---<br/><br/>Vultana grimaced.  Shit, she'd forgotten the service elevator!  Not good... not good at all.  Still... she wasn't quite done yet.  The ones still trapped in the one elevator wouldn't be able to harm her for a bit, and the others would have to reach the roof first before getting to her... and they would have to shoot or blow the door to get inside, assuming she was even there anymore.  She knew this place well, and...<br/><br/>She blinked suddenly, her golden eyes widening as something occurred to her.  Yes... yes, of<span style="font-style: italic"> course! </span>How had she forgotten that?  She turned and headed back to the control panels for the elevators, and she smirked inside her beak as she looked upon it.<span style="font-style: italic"> Berus, you always <span style="text-decoration: underline"> were </span> a paranoid son of a vixen, </span>she thought.  She reached out, flicked a cover, and pressed the unmarked red button.<br/><br/>Inside both stairwells, a loud series of bangs echoed.  Small charges, placed there years before, exploded with just enough force to destroy both elevators' emergency brakes.  As she listened to one of them start to freefall behind her, accompanied by the screams of its occupants, she silently thanked Lady Shaffa for not having Berus' crazy precautions removed.  As it turned out, he'd been worth something, after all.<br/><br/>A distant, hollow boom echoed up the shaft, and the entire building shook from the impact.  She wondered idly how many soldiers she'd managed to get rid of... and how many were still making their way up the stairs toward her.  Two?  Three? Four?  there hadn't been many of them in the street below, but she couldn't assume there were too few.  Better to estimate high rather than low.<br/><br/>Oddly, she didn't fear death.  She'd faced it so very many times that it didn't matter to her anymore... if it came, it came, period.  She'd try to hold it at bay, but she wasn't kidding herself.  She was a slave girl, recently freed; these were trained soldiers.  In a straight fight her odds were limited... and in fact, she probably would still be quite healthy when one shoved her down his throat.<br/><br/>She stood there, and she smiled again, though again her beak concealed her lips.  She set the rifle aside for a moment and without a word she pulled off her red dress, and she set it in a corner, mostly but not completely concealed.  She picked up the rifle again, standing defiantly though her body was completely bared now.  The soldiers, if they lived long enough to see her, would be faced with a nude, scarred woman covered in soft downy brown feathers and scarred, bare skin, with wings at her back.  It might give her just one moment as they took in the sight, and that might be the one moment she needed to survive.<br/><br/>She folded her wings back and smiled, feeling several small lumps tied loosely inside the feathers there.  If all else failed there was always her back-up plan.  She wasn't a trained warrior, but she<span style="font-style: italic"> had </span>come prepared.<br/><br/>She quickly hung the red dress from some pipes, half-concealed in shadow but still visible because of its color, and she hurried out of the machinery room.  Hoping the soldiers would head for the machinery room, she used her wings and easily vaulted up to the top of the roof-access shed, a good ten feet up, where she flattened herself down completely, out of sight.  She kept the rifle down also, and vowed not to move until she heard the door to the machinery room open... one way or the other.<br/><br/>She hoped the people she'd been helping would be all right... but right now, her own life was the priority.