"Kill them all." That was an order Alexandra was more than capable of executing without a word. Flicking the firing mode on the bolt pistol to single shot, she leaned out from behind the waste barrels and began taking targeted shots at the foe as they attempted to reorganise themselves. One, two, three kills; the fourth round missed, and the fifth, since she'd ducked back behind the barrels of waste to avoid supressive fire.

It was as she took her sixth and seventh shots that a frag grenade skidded across the ground next to her, and furthermore to her allies. Without thinking, she dropped her gun and scooped up the bomb with one hand, hurling it back to explode several meters away. This resulted in minimal enemy casualties at best; far more pertinent was the shard of shrapnel that wound up flying toward her, smacking into her right arm at the joint. The power armour itself wasn't damaged, but the yell-drawing burst of intense pain indicated that something nasty had been done to the flesh within.

Getting back into cover, she clutched her arm for a moment, teeth clenched as she held back any further noise. That wasn't going to be usable without attention, was it... damnable weapons, grenades, when you had to handle them being thrown at, rather than by you. There were relatively few handheld weapons that power armour couldn't fend off at least reasonably, but even moderately powerful grenades had every opportunity to damage or destroy it and the person within with both the shockwave and high-speed shrapnel, not to mention the possibility of it physically flinging you away if close enough. That wasn't even accounting for the stronger grenade types, those designed to destroy heavy protection, or cut through it like it wasn't there, or simply vaporise a portion of the field and everything- every[i]body[/i]- that happened to be in the blast radius.

Nonetheless, she didn't have time to be concerned about a mere useless limb. That could be fixed later. Grabbing her bolt pistol with her left hand where it had dropped- three rounds left, at least two shots wasted- she moved round the blast-damaged barrels and the contents they had begun spilling over the ground and began to seek new cover. Since it was convenient, she rushed to the side of the Inquisitor she had been charged with protecting, eyes open for new cover she could move into, closer to the foe, that she might slay them with her gun's melee attachment now that ranged combat was far less suitable an option. Even in power armour, bolt weapons had enough kick to make wielding them one-handed difficult. And her ammunition was relatively limited, besides.