Stukov nodded curtly, not having really expected anything more than that. The Inquisitor walked out with his assistant, after having instructed them as to where the stashed clothing was, and to NOT enter the armory. Once the Inquisitor and his acolyte had left, the Armsman crossed his arms, looking over the few people remaining as the one fellow from Armageddon left to change. The midget dwarf didn't really sit well with the Armsman, reminded him of some mutant strains of humanity that were not so friendly to the Imperium and its cause. Stukov also excused himself to leave and gather some different clothing to sneak about in, without being noticed as obvious Imperial military personnel. That would defeat the purpose of the warband being tasked with going and gathering information and finding the page they were looking for. The lack of information on what they were specifically looking for struck him too much of typical operating procedure for the Imperium, but he could do little about it right now. All he could do is change and get ready to leave.

Stukov let himself into the personal wardrobe, careful to heed the Inquisitor's warning and not walk into the armory. Still didn't set well with him that there could be unknown amount of trouble in that armory, and no one knew about it, but he could do little about it yet. First off, Stukov's entire attire had to be changed out, or at the very least altered. The carapace chest piece was hidden under a plain looking vest, with a trench coat thrown over it. The green slacks, normally part of his uniform and rolled to expose his simple mechanical leg replacement, was dropped down to conceal it better, while any imperial insignia was removed. The inside of the trench coat was lined with pockets, so he loaded his ammo there vice its usual carry method. Everything else, his pistol, knife, and various explosives, all were hidden beneath the coat. Looking at his new attire in the mirror, he wasn't sure whether he looked more like an undercover Arbites, from the stories, or a freelance merc. The latter was far better than the former, but he decided the attire would suit his purposes. One last item caught his attention, a pair of goggles that appeared to be flash resistant. They also looked completely handmade, lacking any sort of formal or mass manufactured appearance. Leaving them to hang around his neck, he walked out of the wardrobe and had what few things he was not taking with him dropped off at his quarters.

Walking back, Stukov paused outside the forbidden armory, as the Armsman was going to call it from here on out, and sighed. That nagging feeling that something was in there that was not just idle and disabled, but was an active threat to the ship he was sworn to defend, would not go away. But he knew full well that, should he try to go in, odds were some sort of defensive mechanisms would kick in and, knowing the reputation the Inquisition had, he wouldn't live long enough to be chastised or executed for his invasion of the space. He spent several moments in the silence, filtering out the ambient noise of the operation of the ship, listening for anything unusual. Not overtly, but leaning against the wall, shotgun slung over his shoulder while he readjusted his attire quietly. He would eventually move on to where the Warband was preparing to head down to the surface, but until then he would do one last quiet round of the ship, where he could within reasonable time. It wasn't easy letting go of the job he had been doing his whole life, but one should not complain about where the Emperor sent them, or so the priest would tell him. Well, he was, but it wasn't changing anything.