Stukov cursed as he ducked a piece of burning debris, an overhead support strut by the looks of it, as it half collapsed and blocked part of the hallway. And damn near took his head off as well. Smiles had stormed off, and without any extinguishers of his own to beat back the flames it was a rather perilous trek back through this forsaken burning building. Falling debris trying to kill him did [i]not[/i] help in the slightest either, and he could feel the sweat dripping off his face and around the rebreather as he ran to try and catch up with the others. He would be the last one out of the building, considering he had also been the first one into the place it would make sense he would be the last one out, considering the deteriorating conditions. That trinket that Smiles had found lingered in the back of his head, it had just felt wrong in his gut, to put it metaphorically, and he would try to figure out why later. Moving with agility he finally made it out of the building, having missed the assassination attempt on Boss, but having heard the yelling on about it. He stepped out of the burning building, spotting the downed rogue Arbites, and saw the vest just in time to realize what was about to happen. And not enough time to really get away either, not fully. [color=9e0b0f]"Oh that is just [i]fucking[/i]...."[/color]

Stukov either didn't finish the sentence, or no one could hear him finish it, as he went the only direction he could in the face of the bomb blast. Right back into the burning building, having thrown himself back towards uncertain injury instead of certain injury, possibly death, in the face of a suicide bomb. Granted, the pressure wave from the explosion threw him into a door frame, lacking the time to brace, the shield, and armor that Boss had to resist the blast wave and shrapnel from it. Stukov groaned, forcing himself upwards despite the fact he had some shrapnel embedded in his carapace chest plate. Grabbing the chunk, he wrenched it out and could find no blood. Good, it hadn't gone through, and all his gear was somehow intact. A damn miracle, there, but the main doorway was bust, damaged and half buried in now burning debris. Not much time, had to get clear, and Stukov ran into the room he had already been half thrown into, heading for the window and smashing it out with the stock of his autogun before vaulting out, wincing and coughing again as he landed. Great, impact probably agitated things again.

[color=9e0b0f]"That was eventful, a little forewarning next time might be nice. One plate of carapace off from having a piece of dead traitor wedged in my lung."[/color] Stukov checked himself over properly to take stock of how much damage he had taken. Minor burns and singe marks on his clothing and armor, the coughing had reared its ugly head again, all gear intact, minor scrapes and cuts from being tossed bodily into a burning building by suicide bomb, overall, another miserable day. Checking over his gear, he glanced at Smiles, protected from the blast by Boss, and spoke directly to her, tone calmer after having a chance to get his breath back in his lungs. [color=9e0b0f]"Want to run Boss by what you found, Smiles?"[/color]