Either do, or do not. There is no try.

As much fun as creating total mayhem in this carnival-slash-circus-slash-freak-show might be, getting "Vixen" away in a talking condition is priority number uno. So you roll your dice for persuasion.

"Hey chill dude. We can sort this out in peace. Me and my friend here have a few questions we'd like you to answer, so if we can just go somewhere quiet and have a chat, well, it would just be grand", you explain.

"My friend and I", Vixen says.

Fuck that shit.

"Okay, maybe you didn't understand. You're coming with us, right now, or there will serious trouble", you growl at her/him/it. Damn, it's tricky to keep this stuff straight. Definitely a her right now. Vixen stares at you defiantly, clearly calculating her odds. Then her eyes grow large as saucers. Oh man, you are so intimidating. While you're busy mentally high-fiving yourself, Fox checks behind you to see what got Vixen spooked.

"That's one pissed off looking blondie", the dark elf mutters. You glance around and sure enough, it's the Genetech head goon, Sebastian Krause. Built like a brickhouse and carrying a sword, the dude radiates an aura of danger. Despite your gigantic self-confidence, boosted as it has been by the wake of destruction you've left behind, you feel a sliver of doubt. This dude is BAD NEWS. And Vixen certainly agrees with you.

"Okay yes, let's go right now then, okay, come on", Vixen almost babbles as she turns and pushes her way through the crowd. Fox shoots you a worried glance and follows her. You shrug your shoulders. On one hand, you're tempted at the opportunity to really test your mettle against a heavily augmented BAD DUDE of epic proportions. On the other hand, there are two shapely butts to follow.

"Okay Chrome, I'm gonna cut the connection to my eyes now", you tell your driver. "Hang tight nearby, I'll probably need you pretty soon", you continue.

"Sure man, sure, I'll wait! Looks like it could get exciting reeeeeeeaaaal soon", the orc answers glibly.

In the end, you don't make it. Fox and Vixen probably would have made it on their own. The two women glide through the unwashed wave of metahumanity like slippery eels, avoiding gropers and vomiters with equal ease. You, not so much. Your height and width mean that you're literally plowing a path through the crowd, like an iceberg through frozen flotsam. This makes you Stand Out. And guys who are oblivious to things that Stand Out, don't rise to head goon level.

Ince the bloodhound spots you, it doesn't take long for his augmented vision to pick out Lynx-Candy-Amber-Vixen. Your attention coprocessor helpfully notifies you that the German Kolossus will, at his current rate of movement, catch you in 97 seconds and counting.

Well, you kinda did want to see how much of a bad ass you really can be. You shoot the coordinates to Chrome's van to Fox and flip a message to commlink: 'Take Vixen to the van, get to a safe location, get anything you can about the prototype out of him. Meet you later'.

She takes a quick look at you - is that worry you see? Then she pushes closer to Vixen and the duo vanish into another throng of people.

'Tagged target will reach you in 33 seconds and counting'

You flex your shoulders, pull the rifles out of their holsters, turn all the safeties off, shoot off a radar pulse and trigger your enhanced reflexes. You lift the guns as your Move-By-Wire system turns you 180 degrees in about eight microseconds. The world slows down around you.

But Sebastian Krause doesn't.

Both of your opening bursts go high as the Kolossus started to dive the moment you started to turn. Some hapless bystanders behind him get a lethal case of lead poisoning. Before anyone else can even react, you correct your aim and let loose with both shotgun and grenade launcher. He takes the shotgun blast straight in the chest and it's obvious he's wearing a proper vest. Simultaneously, his left hand moves almost imperceptibly, swatting the grenade to the side. His right hand is bringing up a deadly looking heavy pistol, the sort of hand cannon that could probably stop an elephant.

Good thing your grenades can be detonated by a Smart Link command and not just by an impact fuse.

The explosion and hail of shrapnel ruin his day. His fancy suit is shredded for sure and he missed the shot he was about to take. But that's the only good news. The bad news is, he isn't bleeding. Like anywhere, not even on his face. Two 3-round bursts to the chest stagger him. Still no bleeding. The hand cannon has gotten back to its position and barks. It feels like someone whacked you with a baseball bat. In the real world.

Your Biomonitor is super duper useful as it informs you that two of your ribs on the left side have cracked and that there is a foreign object lodged between them. The heavy slug went straight through your vest, your dermal sheath, and your tough troll skin. Which means that removing that cannon from play is suddenly your most urgent priority.

A thought and your rifles switch to full auto. As does your shotgun. And your grenade launcher. The little bit that you earlier cared about collateral damage has completely vanished. Funny how self-preservation works. The hail of bullets, shells and mini-grenades, some of which the thrice-cursed German just fucking dodges, hit his right arm and hand with sufficient **** that the fucking slug thrower is torn from his grip.

All four of your weapons click empty. But at least you've made an impact. Sebastian's right arm is dangling uselessly on his side and - FINALLY - he is bleeding. Looks like superficial cuts but he is bleeding!

"If it bleeds, we can kill it", you shout as you holster your guns and pull out your monofilament knife as Sebastian had used his left hand to unsheath a katana.

"Seriously? A fucking katana? You watch too much anime", you grin. Sure, it's a far longer blade than your knife but your arms are like way longer than his. And you've already handled a 2-on-1 melee.

As the German Kolossus gets into a fancy sword-stance, now wearing tattered rags, and synth-skin peeling off cybernetic limbs, and multiple lacerations and contusions bleeding, you wave your knife in a circle eight in front of you, daring him to lunge. In the corner of your mind, you in passing register the screams and shouts of the people around you two. There's at least a dozen mangled corpses just lying around, which makes footwork trifle challenging.

"Come Sebastian, let's dance!" You taunt the German. Oh how you wish his name had been Bennet, this would have been perfect. It does work though. The BAD DUDE yells incoherently, leaps into the air and with both knees pulled up to his chest, swings the katana down in an overhead chopping motion at your head.

He's definitely watched too much anime.

You easily side step the telegraphed move and as the German lands on the corpses, he loses his balance. You help him along with a snap kick that sends him tumbling. Your knife leading, you charge after him, confident of your victory.

Except a god damn railroad spikes stab out of his heels, punching into the concrete and completely arresting his movement. You weren't expecting that. Which means that your knife thrust hits his left arm instead of his head and your right knee hits his katana instead of his testicles.

Monofilament knife is super sharp. Basically, a single molecule sharp. Meaning it will literally cut anything and everything. Including a heavily armoured cyber limb. Basically you turn his left arm into a shish-kebab. Hitting a katana, edge-on, with your knee however, is not a pleasant experience. Your trouser sleeve gets badly cut, as gets your kneecap. Lucky as you are, his katana isn't a monofilament one, or you wouldn't have a leg at all. Your tough skin and the dermal sheath mean that a regular katana just cuts your skin and disables your knee for the foreseeable future.

What a bummer.

Both of you react at the same time. Your left fist strikes his head. Sadly, his cyber-skull is tougher than your fingers and you feel your bones snapping like twigs. His right hand lets go of the katana and hits yours right wrist with such **** that it goes numb, making you drop your knife. You almost headbutt him but, at the last minute, realize you would just knock yourself out so instead you twist your head at the last moment and your fangs puncture his throat as his last working fingers go for your eyes.

That eye-shield thing just became really fucking useful, as it dents the strike that otherwise would've blinded you. A faint thud tells you that his leg-spurs have retracted, meaning that he is going to kick you anytime now. So you decide to roll away from him, forgetting for a moment that your fangs are still lodged between his larynx and trachea. You fall on your back, pull your legs close and let the momentum throw the wounded Kolossus over you.

Which means that your fangs just ripped out his entire throat.

Pink and red gooey shits rains on your face and if you weren't high on adrenaline, you'd probably be disgusted. Instead you manage to get back to your feet and throw another snap kick at Krause. You're not sure how many Newtons your kick had, but there's a loud enough crack from the base of his skull, that you're pretty sure you just disconnected his spine from his cyber-skull.

"Fuck, I can't recall a single Arnold one-liner", you mutter. On autopilot, you pickup your knife and holster it, as you stumble away.

Your face is covered in blood and bits of human skin. Your right kneecap is cut open. Your right wrist is broken as are all five fingers of your left hand. You got two cracked ribs and a big bullet lodged between them. Oh and you're still missing half of one thumb from the last adventure.

Good thing you got enough cyber in your massive body to curtail the blood loss and the pain, allowing you to stumble to that van that's oh so gloriously painted with busty naked orcs on both sides. The back doors open just before you would have crashed into them. You barely make out three female faces as you slide inside.

And then you finally pass out.