They flank, Felix around his side and Maine rushing in too fast with a bruteshot for North to not blow every stun round he can trying to slow him down, falling back into the cold inevitability of exhaustion and long odds. Two parries at his midsection that he manages to dodge from, knock away with the stock of his rifle before a third twists in at an oblique angle and gashes through undersuit, a second following so fast he can't track if it's a twist of the same blade or a different one. Theta's trying to tell him something but he's too busy evading Maine's latest swipe at his neck to do more than twist what should have been a gouge through hamstring and artery into a stab that buckles his knee out from under him, tumbles him into a roll that smears blood along the tiles as he scrambles back from another stab at his chest.