He throws the shield at the nearest thug -- it knocks the flamethrower from his hands, and his cry from probably fratcured if not broken fingers echoes through the warehouse. Steve ducks behind the crates as the rest of the thugs turn the flamethrowers his way, filling the air with the scent of burning wood.
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He throws the shield at the nearest thug -- it knocks the flamethrower from his hands, and his cry from probably fratcured if not broken fingers echoes through the warehouse. Steve ducks behind the crates as the rest of the thugs turn the flamethrowers his way, filling the air with the scent of burning wood.