With a snarl, Baz catches the arm right in the chest. His flak-jacket is shredded by the long claws. The armoured panels save his live, but the thick kevlar is scarred and ripped free, scything into the wall and imbedding. He grins, sinking one of the knives into his adversary's chest. Then he spots the plasma and fireball.<br/><br/>"Yew fuckin mad?" he asks, guesturing around. "Petrol bombs, ya silly Southern wazzock. You'll blow us all sky-high! Scarper!" His strong legs propell him through the window, shattering the glass. "Get outta here- on the truck or somethin- but keep that berzerker immobilised if ya can!"