Bruce caught himself on one hand and both feet, skidding to a halt. 

His music hadn't been returned full volume, but he could at least hear it. He straightened, took a deep breath to center himself, and reforged his blade in his right hand. On his left, chains lined his forearm and circled his wrist, a long length falling to the floor, a spiked ball attached at the end. Separate, lighter chains wrapped his fingers.

Bruce sighed, neither in contentment nor exasperation. He lifted the spiked ball off the ground, and began spinning the chain on his left side, steadily faster. 

Without comment, he ran forward, no foreplay or indirect approach, just a straight shot, his right arm upraised in front of him with his blade set to intercept Nexus' katana.