(OOC: A couple of hours? On motor bikes, through a deserted city? How big is this place? 20 minutes, if that should get us to the suburbs. Why would they seacrh that far afield?)<br/><br/>Andy had found that even being slung on the rear pillion of a speeding motorbike without any restraint, on his way to a place where he'd be eaten, possibly without being killed first, could get old. He'd speculated on simply rolling off, but hadn't seen a good place to do so. Big momma drove like a maniac. The human, or demi-human body could only stay at the peak of terror for so long before it exhausted itself.<br/><br/>With the worst of it out of the way, he could turn his attention to one of the other bikes, a tri-wheeler, and the girl wolf riding it. He'd never learned to ride a bike, apart from the one time he'd had a chance to try out a quad-bike on a scout group sponsored adventure weekend. He'd need transport, and while he wasn't sure he could even move one of these oversized hogs, that three wheeler looked to work pretty much the same way as the quad bike. A lot more powerful, but basically the same, he hoped.<br/><br/>By the time they reached the workshop, he was ready to free his hands and go into action as soon as he saw his chance. But being carried through the workshop, with it's half assembled bikes and junk, there were still to many of them, too scattered for him to risk it. Then he saw where they were taking him and relaxed. He hoped they'd take it as him finally giving up any hope after the guards remark.<br/><br/>After all they were slinging him, bound hand and foot into a closet to await his fate. Or to put it another way, they'd given him a safe quiet place to free his feet, complete with racks of all sorts of interesting stuff, and they hadn't even locked him in... not that they could looters had clearly broken it, looking for food, but left when they found none, or ewere eaten by these guys. One guard, outside in the workshop, and a known route to the bikes. Things were looking up.<br/><br/>After the noise died down, he released his body ropes and scouted the lower shelves with his paws, using the illumination of his computer screen. While he could dimply free himself with his claws, a knife or saw, any kind of cutting tool would be faster, and besides he needed some sort of wweapon to replace his lost bowie knife.