[Wait him out Master B. Alfred's voice travels to him like a memory, but then that's everything Bruce has heard since these hallucinations started. There's nothing new and creative, only repetitions of conversations that have already happened, that can't be changed. Maybe there's something telling in that- that the things that haunt Bruce most are in the past. Things that can't be prepared for. Things that are part of him.
The snap-punch of Riku's fist slams the inside of Bruce's cheek against his jaw, tearing tissue and splitting his lip, flooding his mouth with the taste of blood. But the blow he lands is enough; Bruce has his opening, and he takes it.
His teeth grit, streaked with red, and he shoves, rolls. Dirt is dug up beneath their heels and behind his head, it's under his clothes and in his hair and Bruce doesn't stop for anything. Riku seems to falter immediately, a whole body recoil to finding himself on his back. His hand comes up between them and spasms, tries to maintain a few inches of space and with it a few inches of leverage. His fingers flex in the fabric at Bruce's throat, they slap against his collar bone. But Bruce keeps bearing forward, drives his knees into the soil over Riku's hips, low enough that he can't get momentum beneath his legs when he tries to swing, low enough that the socket is trapped in a half-rotation. Bruce turns his face and spits, clears the worst of the copper and jerks back around.
He expects the fight in Riku to accelerate, fueled by rage and adrenaline, but instead he watches his attention divide. It looks like his awareness is half inside the woods and before Bruce can wonder at the cause, about why Riku's punches have slowed, he screams Sora?!
It's a horrible sound. He doesn't need to ask, to know what he's imagining.
His body starts to go taut, the moment before he'll inevitably begin to break free with renewed desperation and Bruce's relative safety will be moot. He reaches immediately for the smoke grenade inside the cuff of his shoe and takes a deep breath, holds it tight in his lungs. The detonates it. Bruce's fingers go to his waist again, something he's practiced, as he reaches for the cable fastened there. It means that he's left himself open out of necessity- because he can't effectively pin Riku to the dirt while he draws it free. He has to hold him down with the weight of his body alone, slow him by bending his knees and locking his feet around Riku's own as if he's riding a horse.]
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The snap-punch of Riku's fist slams the inside of Bruce's cheek against his jaw, tearing tissue and splitting his lip, flooding his mouth with the taste of blood. But the blow he lands is enough; Bruce has his opening, and he takes it.
His teeth grit, streaked with red, and he shoves, rolls. Dirt is dug up beneath their heels and behind his head, it's under his clothes and in his hair and Bruce doesn't stop for anything. Riku seems to falter immediately, a whole body recoil to finding himself on his back. His hand comes up between them and spasms, tries to maintain a few inches of space and with it a few inches of leverage. His fingers flex in the fabric at Bruce's throat, they slap against his collar bone. But Bruce keeps bearing forward, drives his knees into the soil over Riku's hips, low enough that he can't get momentum beneath his legs when he tries to swing, low enough that the socket is trapped in a half-rotation. Bruce turns his face and spits, clears the worst of the copper and jerks back around.
He expects the fight in Riku to accelerate, fueled by rage and adrenaline, but instead he watches his attention divide. It looks like his awareness is half inside the woods and before Bruce can wonder at the cause, about why Riku's punches have slowed, he screams Sora?!
It's a horrible sound.
He doesn't need to ask, to know what he's imagining.
His body starts to go taut, the moment before he'll inevitably begin to break free with renewed desperation and Bruce's relative safety will be moot. He reaches immediately for the smoke grenade inside the cuff of his shoe and takes a deep breath, holds it tight in his lungs. The detonates it. Bruce's fingers go to his waist again, something he's practiced, as he reaches for the cable fastened there. It means that he's left himself open out of necessity- because he can't effectively pin Riku to the dirt while he draws it free. He has to hold him down with the weight of his body alone, slow him by bending his knees and locking his feet around Riku's own as if he's riding a horse.]