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Heavy footfalls echo through the night. Orange sodium lamps buzz quietly overhead as moths dance in their dim glow.

A few more steps and you stop, swearing that you hear a another set of steps behind you in this deserted corner of the city. Hood down, you look about, careful not to draw too much attention to yourself this time of night. Your black Casio reads 2:15 before you quickly shove your hand back into your pocket. "Nearly time", you muse to yourself, one hand wrapped around a wad of bills as the other grips the handle of a stolen pistol, sweat slicking its black plastic grip.

The night continues as do you, ducking behind trashcans and dessicated bushes as the occasional patrol car winds its way down the street, more than once blaring a siren as it races towards some pops in the distance. Behind you, a pile of trash stirs and the safety of your gun clicks off as you feel your thumb on the grooves of the hammer.

"H-hey m-m-m-man," a strung-out basehead stutters, "i-its n-not safe o-out h-h-here th-this time of night."

You toss them a crumpled dollar and continue walking.

"Don't say I didn't warn you," they shout, cackling, as you hurry on your way.

In the wee hours, the city seems to die, festering and wretching like a bloated carcass as you crawl across its face. Shadows distort and buildings moan as cool wind rushes past, rustling pieces of garbage and scarce dried leaves. Your steps echo off of the buildings on either side distorting and reverbing, and for a moment you could almost swear that you hear a second set of footsteps. Your pulse quickens as cold sweat drips down your back and your grip tightens around the handle of your gun. You duck into a small crack between buildings, tripping over garbage bags as the light fades and you're enveloped by shadow. Behind you movement hurries and you stumble deeper into the darkness. Shambling forward, you pass a flickering street light and the lightest rustling of garbage draws your attention behind you. A black shrouded figure approaches from the opposite side of the alleyway. The light blinks out. Either blood or sweat drips from between your fingers as you pull the gun from your pocket.

Attempt to at least, as cloth catches on the hammer and you struggle to pull your firearm free. The light blinks back on and before you stands a light brown bunny woman, with a shock of blonde hair, tracing her figure down, you see a spiked black collar tight against her neck and with a lecherous smile, she pulls her black trenchcoat open, revealing her large supple breasts, and a foot of horsecock between her legs, obviously flaccid and putting most people you've seen to shame.

What do you do?