Remainder Theorem

Sometimes all you're left with
Is your raw gut and instinct
With no promise of backup,
Because your team is Hell's own option.
Special times as these are
Your wits' on a hair trigger
Your every impulse is a weapon,
A follicle is a band of Teflon.
There is no room for second thought
When all you have is one shot.
You aim with your eyes shut tight
Straight from a singleness of mind
Your weakness is your target
And that sets you off at a tangent.
All of your senses
Are heightened to the maximum.
Cause your task is stripped
Down to the barest minimum.

Akpan