Bruce leaps from rooftop to rooftop chasing after Mr. Freeze. Bruce had been up for almost a week at that point, only getting an hour or two of sleep the whole time. He's beyond tired and maybe a little tiny bit delirious. He's been off his game for so long now and it's pissing him off. He's been reckless. Sloppy at best. Missing things, moving slower, and even messing up more. It's awful and he hates it. He hates every second of it. . Too deep in his thoughts and lethargic from the lack of sleep Bruce didn't see Freeze creating an ice path as he ran away which caused Bruce to slip. What happened afterwards is a series of painfully irritating coincidences. When Bruce slipped he just so happened to step on his cape making him fall right off the building which just so happened to be very tall and had a lot of things jutting out. It would have been fine if Bruce wasn't so slow to get his grappling hook. Because he didn't get it out in time he hit literally everything on his way down. A pole, several fire escape railings, a clothes line, the edge of an open window, a conveniently placed stack of bricks, and even a cactus. Before he made it to the ground landing Hard on a rock. But it's was all fine! Because his communicator broke his fall. Another pitiful coincidence. He tried to signal for help with his helmet but the wiring was completely recked. And It wouldn't work, It was so bad he had to turn it off as the feedback from the lenses was giving him a migraine. . So there Bruce is. Laying in an alleyway, most likely with several broke bones. He could definitely feel his ribs poking into his lung which isn't great, and he's a little worried by how much his back hurts. Worry. He's very worried. A feeling he doesn't feel often. He usually would push on. Usually get up and limp his way back to the manor. Back to Alfred to patch him up. Back home. To safety. But he just can't. He's so.. so so so tired. And doesn't have any energy left to push on. His body is a wreck and he just can't be bothered. So. He gives up. Temporarily at least. Just for a moment. A moment. He allowed weakness and sleep to overtake him. . After about an hour of laying there on the cold hard ground he heard movement nearby. But his body had relaxed so much that it was hard to move again. The adrenaline long since faded. His heart raced as the footsteps get closer and closer to him. He tries to listen to them, how heavy they are, the pacing, the person's breathing anything at all to try and figure out who they might be. Trying to get any information at all to prepare. But it was near impossible to do with the ringing in his ears and the pounding in his head. . "Who are you!" Bruce said in a gruff strained voice. As he struggles to try and get up "Get ngh the hell away from me. Don't take another step!" . He couldn't exactly move, but he wouldn't let himself seem vulnerable. He called on his training with the monks, and willed his body to produce enough adrenaline to numb his pain. To give him just enough strength to possibly defend him.