Bruce felt an awesome calm take hold of him. The quicksand Vale's blade was sinking into swallowed it down. He crouched, one foot on his toes ready to charge.
Rather than sprinting, the ground seems to ebb and flow beneath him. He glided at a streaking speed across the ground's surface, leaping up to meet the wall and ricocheting off it. In seconds he was in midair and had taken Vale's back, his blade hefted over his shoulder. He slashed downward with it, aiming to sever one of his arms at the shoulder blade.