He'll beat himself up over that well enough for both of them later, alone and quiet the way that he gets, but if he's good at anything, it's flicking that switch from caring about things like the person whose grey matter is half all over you and not.
Right now, he cares about Bruce's grey matter. And grappling hooks. The line pulls taut with a sickening jolt of real muscle and tendon strained hard against their combined weight, but they won't be putting any innocent bystanders off pudding for life tonight. A decently-aimed pendulum-swing sends them careening through a plate glass window instead of a beam, the soldier twisting to take the brunt of the impact because what are super-soldiers good for if not human canon balls, really.
(This isn't, apparently, one of those matrixes where he's a few shades short of indestructible, but it helps that he never seems to remember he isn't, anyway.)
"14th and Sumac," he manages to hack out when they land, pushing to his feet again. An exit. "Diner. Basement."
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Right now, he cares about Bruce's grey matter. And grappling hooks. The line pulls taut with a sickening jolt of real muscle and tendon strained hard against their combined weight, but they won't be putting any innocent bystanders off pudding for life tonight. A decently-aimed pendulum-swing sends them careening through a plate glass window instead of a beam, the soldier twisting to take the brunt of the impact because what are super-soldiers good for if not human canon balls, really.
(This isn't, apparently, one of those matrixes where he's a few shades short of indestructible, but it helps that he never seems to remember he isn't, anyway.)
"14th and Sumac," he manages to hack out when they land, pushing to his feet again. An exit. "Diner. Basement."