Bruce grips his bullet wound, struggling to stem the bleeding. His eyes are wide, locked onto you. He's not looking for a fight. He can't wrap his head around why his own child would be out here, sent by the Magistrate to take him down. He had believed you were gone, written off as dead...

Except, you're not the person he imagines you to be. You're not his offspring. Instead, you're a machine cobbled together from the remnants of his kid.