Bruce isn't himself all day - not that this is unusual lately, with the way he's been slipping into some other identity he doesn't recognize - but it's even more pronounced. He barely sleeps, but he moves as if in a dream. He's at the river in the morning when the news reaches him, and finally, he's awake. It's an easy decision to make.

When the rushing wall of half-mindless gladiators rush at him, he wishes he could be surprised. He hadn't had faith or trust, but he'd hoped and - not like it matters, now. He kicks up the handle of his sword and grabs it, glancing to his side to see who's come out alongside him. For a split-second, he considers telling them go just go, but there's no point. They were already out here - if they're going to die, it'll either be fighting head-on or being slaughtered as soon as their opponents advance.

The first gladiator to meet him goes down so fast that the one behind it skids to almost a halt and swerves, apparently deciding to let the Militia handle this one, if they're so keen on him. The rest aren't so pragmatic, but it doesn't matter to him. Bruce with his blinders off, without pulling punches, with bladed edges instead of bare hands and threads of broken bones, is an entirely different monster than the one he is in Gotham (than the one he really is). There's something soulless in the way he does this, but it's effective - a woman next to him, a powered xenian, flinches away from him after a time. She's a prisoner.

Bruce drops another gladiator - one of the few who hadn't switched sides the second chaos broke out - and then a hooded agent, and then has to switch tactics and move when the shooting starts. He grabs the prisoners nearest him and hauls them close to the wall, though he doesn't stay still for more than a moment.