Wonderful. A smart one. Damn it. Methos lets out a long, put-upon sigh.

"I don't suppose you at least had the decency to get stabbed in the kidney."

Metal arm. Sniper rifle. Something about that rings a bell, but he can't quite put his finger on it. Methos sets his subconscious to working on it, and instead takes stock of his situation, which, well. He's alive, but it doesn't look good, otherwise.