Out of his peripheral vision, Top saw Andrea kneeling behind the pump house, engaging the last two remaining Fixers in a gun battle. One of them edged around to get a better angle, but three fast shots from the trees sent him sprawling backward, blood jetting from his throat. Belle, by intention or—likelier an accident—had found the vulnerable sweet spot. 

“Jackpot! Fixer down, Fixer down! Get out of the—” It was all he got out before the Fixer’s body armor exploded.

...

Mia saw the blast through a gap in the trees. She heard Top’s warning, and then a fireball enveloped his fighting machine.

...

Top Sims was in hell, and the fires were really damned hot. 

He fought to clear his head, to make sense of what was happening, and clarity of mind brought no comfort. He lay inside Hot Mama, and the fighting machine was wreathed in flame. Most of it was burning debris from when the Fixer in the body armor had exploded, and even though the shell of his cybernetic battle suit was heat resistant, the driver could still cook. 

Top fought to make the K-110’s arms and legs move. They did, but not well. The blast had seriously damaged the servos. He threw all his muscle into turning over. It seemed to take an age, but he finally thudded down on his chest. Next he brought the hands up. No … just the left was working. The right arm of the machine wouldn’t move at all. Lifting the ponderous suit one-handed was agony. His back was burning in a different way. Something was wrong. A sprain, a strain. He prayed to god it wasn’t worse. When the blast happened, he’d been thrown and hit rolling. The suit was never intended to protect the driver from something like that.

-Relentless pg. 468-476, Kindle Edition.