Before you even feel the recoil, the bullet pierces your shooting arm, the pain searing through you, no hope of salvation, you take your second last shot which is hopelessly off target. With one shot left, the shooter approaches you. His next shot is your end.
The chamber locks, hammer primed, trigger pulled. The bullet flies past your target. Not. Even. Close.
No bullets left. Both of your arms are fucked. No chance of running due to blood loss. With a smirk on his face, seemingly mocking your final pathetic attempt, he raises his rifle to your forehead.