Funny, he thought that he'd be more prepared for this.

First Aid's venting hitches, his frame tensing as the teeth of the blade press against his neck. His hands tighten around the straps of the pack, his visor flickering, but he doesn't try turning his head to see behind him. He knows who is there from the brush of his EM field and the voice in his audio.

"Pharma," he murmurs. "You're not dead. I assume you want revenge?"

His gun is at his hip, but it's useless with Pharma behind him.