"Hold your fire, I repeat, hold your fire!!" the soldier at the front of the strike team yelled out, his gun still trained at the blood-soaked man standing in front of him, handgun in hand. When they breached the compound door, they expected many things - a lone researcher was not one of them.

"Oh," the man said with a tired voice, "Mr Harding, is that you under there?"

"Doctor Marchetti?!" the soldier yelled out with audible shock.

"Yes, yes, I- I apologize for my manners, it's just-" Marchetti said and turned around, yet his demeanour was off, slowly, sluggish, like he was in a daze.

"Get me a medic! Doctor, is anyone with you?"

"It's... not my blood," he chuckled slowly. "No, I... don't think, I- I was alone in my office, the gloomhags overrun the facility- there was a breach you see- I-" he said but stumbled forward, unable to stand properly.

"Doc, come on, sit," Harding said and helped the man. "Let me take the gun."

"The... gun? Oh, yes, yes, the... you know, I'm a better shot... than I thought. Maybe I missed... my calling," Marchetti said and slowly handed the soldier his firearm. It was splattered with blood and stank of gunpowder. It seemed that it was not only fired numerous times but used as a blunt weapon as well.

"Alright Doc," Harding continued, "let's get you looked at." He looked the man over and noticed his other hand was clenched tight to the point where the doctor's knuckles turned white. "What's in your other-"

"NO!" Marchetti yelled suddenly with far more vigour than expected, "no no you- you mustn't touch it! It's..." he slowly opened his hand and showed Harding the thus far tightly held brass pocket watch.

"A watch?" Harding said incredulously.

"7663-B," Marchetti said with a slight smile as he slumped back down, his outburst of energy taking its toll.

"Wait, that's-" Harding's face turned pale and he shifted slightly away from the doctor.

"I know... I know, Martin," Marchetti said quietly. "I just- I thought that I could help some of the survivors but there... were none."

Another soldier approached the duo.

"Sir, I need you to step back, I need to take a look at him," he said. Harding turned and saw the red cross on the soldier's uniform.

"I'm- uh, Jenkins, I-" Harding stuttered.

"What he means to say is that you can't help me, sir," Marchetti said. "Used the watch, you see?" he said and weakly lifted his hand. The medic looked at the two men confused.

"It's..." Harding croaked, "it's one of the unique items we store. Compresses the rest of your life into one hour. Gives you..."

"Speed and vigour of many years in one hour to fight off a tide of ugly critters," Marchetti chuckled. He looked at the watch. It was one minute 'till twelve.

"Is there anyone you want us to contact?" Harding solemnly asked.

"Everyone I knew here is dead," Marchetti said. "Just... Miss Laurits in HR, she recruited me."

"I know her, yes."

"Tell her not to blame herself," Marchetti continued. "I may have died here, but... because of the things I have seen here... I've lived as well."

Harding nodded and put his hand on Marchetti's shoulder.

"It's been a pleasure, Doc," Harding said.

"Don't let anyone touch... the watch..." Marchetti said and went limp. The brass timepiece slid out of his hand and hit the concrete floor with a metallic clang.

And the minute hand ticked to midnight.