His swing continued, reaching an angle where he had to decide if he wanted to cut the cable, or reel in and hope that the wooden wall would fail to withstand the force of his body. In hindsight, he should have bought another reel of steel wire before coming here. Oh well. His sword was brought down upon the wire, and he kept flying ahead. His speed became less of a problem, when it more or less nullified his fall, approaching the ground like a plane would approach a runway. It was for moments like these, that he even bothered wearing hard plastic leg guards. Hitting the ground lightly, he skid along the ground for 10 meters, his upper body leaned slightly backwards, and his right foot up front, and left knee down. The metal-reinforced boots produced sparks as he went. He wasn't attempting to slow down too much, as that would probably result in that he would suddenly come to a complete halt, and break every fricking bone in his lower body, and then some. Skidding also looked a lot cooler, so there's that. 

As he slowed down further down the street, and came to a stop, he pulled something from a pouch, and rose to his feet slowly. He put on his shades, and pushed the trigger on the detonator that he retrieved right after. It was a moment he expecting to be very Cool-guys-don't-look-at-explosions-esque. Instead, it turned out to be nothing more than.. Well, nothing. He faced the building he had just swung around. A steel wire hanging one third across the street. A mix of anger, and excitement on his face. "Fuck it." 

He started walking back towards where he had left Bobby Brown. He figured he'd just hit him with his sword until he fell down, or something. Guy had a metal stick, big deal. He rounded the corner, sword in hand. "Okay. So you're not retarded. Congratulations. Keep that shit up, and I will be very.. very.. satisfied." He pointed his sword forwards. "How about we solve this in a more direct manner, hm?"