Shit. 

The Viking was way too fast. 

In the time it had taken for him to raise his gun and fire, the warrior had accelerated and even landed right in front of him. Way too close for comfort. 

And that meant that he had less than a second to react to the sword that was hurtling straight for his chest. 

His brain comprehended the absolute danger of the blade and made action, pushing his body too turn to the side to try and avoid most of the deadly strike. 

Alas, too slow. The blade cleaved through his side as he turned, missing it's intended target but opening up a huge gash under his left arm that immediately began pouring with blood. He recoiled and back pedalled immediately, gasping in shock as his body fell into survival mode. His head went light, limbs went slack as he fell to a knee. His Vector clattered uselessly to the ground, empty. The sword had cut clean through his ballistic plating and rigging. Now he knew how his team had felt. 

Fighting through the black fog that threatened to overcome him, he rose unsteadily to his feet, drawing his sniper rifle from his back. With shaking hands he took aim at the Viking's shield, dead center, and fired a shot. The sheer recoil made the rifle jolt out of his weak hands right after, and he fell to his knees, the blood loss making him weak. 

He was going to die, even if he didn't want to.