>>6054254>>6054330You run through the fire. The Heel Knife in your hand makes you feel swift, invigorated. The back and arms of the leather Biker Jacket ignite, and blistering tongues of flame reach upwards alarmingly towards your shoulders and neck - somehow, through frantic flailing and rolling around upon the ground afterwards, attempting to smother the burning cinders, you extinguish this fire and avoid being incinerated. You are very gladdened to be wearing the Motorbike Helmet, which has likely prevented your hair and face from being melted and seared into flakes of ash. The Biker Jacket appears slightly curled, shrunken tight and carbonised, and it smells flame-ravaged and quite revolting, but remains nonetheless moderately wearable.
You can hear some shouting in the distance behind you - the north assault squad Nightwolf-2 vociferations and exhortations for some marksman to step forward, to shoot through the conflagration and intense raging heat, even as he fumbles clumsily with the belt-fed pouch reloading of the machine gun - but despite his urgings, none of his assault squad appear too eager to attempt to emulate or follow your near-suicidal immolation rush through the flames.
