“Hock, taking all known variables into account I estimate that you will be dead in the next 90 seconds,” said a chromatic monotone voice inside of Hock’s left inner ear.

“At least I can take comfort knowing that you will soon be haunting someone else Spirit Crusher,” replied Hock sub-vocally.

A cold tingling radiated through Hock’s fingers and toes letting him know that the second adrenal stim was beginning to wear off… either that or an errant round may have penetrated his armor and he was slowly bleeding out. Either way, the Spirit Crusher’s predictions were infuriatingly accurate which meant there was nothing left to do but roll the dice.

Hock snapped off the scope, brought up the holographic range finder, and toggled the rifle’s firing mechanism to full-auto – there was only be enough power left for one shot at this. Ejecting the tactical knife from his gauntlet Hock ran the blade over his exposed knuckle drawing a long line of blood across the blade. Good old fashioned pain works just as good as any stim. Riding the surge of awareness Hock tossed the blade over his left shoulder rolling out from behind the wrecked land rover to his right.