The Driver ripping up his own arm to secure a fence

Cesar’s steel fingers reached into the superstructure of the crippled arm and tore out one of the support struts. He screamed, and the suit’s speakers turned it into a roar. His vision fogged with white and gray static. His legs trembled. He focused on his hand, on keeping the fence tight and near the post.
The camera view cleared. A few lines of text across his vision warned him of possible structural damage. Oh, Jesus, his arm was on fire.
…
Then he reached over and ripped another strut loose. Another scream echoed off the trees and houses. He felt his knees shift. The battlesuit staggered, and he caught himself before it tipped over. He willed the static out of his vision.
The left arm wobbled. Two of five supports gone. The wrist felt weird, like it was sitting wrong. But the hand was still holding the fence up.
His free hand bent one of the supports against the post. Then he looped it around the steel pole and threaded it through the chain-link. He squeezed the ends together and bent them over each other twice like a giant twist tie.
He smacked a few more exes away and bent the other support. This one went under the hand holding the fence. It took a little longer to get this one around the post and through the fence, but then he knotted it in place.

Excerpt From Ex-Isle, pg 616-617
Peter Clines
https://books.apple.com/us/book/ex-isle/id989619017