Bison thrashes with his arm a little, like he's trying to have his space for this private moment of death, to throw Batter off, but it's subconscious. It's not that he thinks he's being attacked. He just isn't thinking at all. He barely notices he's caught, thinking instead that he must have already hit the ground.

His eyes meet Batter's, but they're blind, glassed over with fear. They wouldn't recognize the eyes looking back at him as any different from the distant clouds behind the forcefield on the horizon.

Bison makes a final choking sound and then can't even gasp, unable to expel the blood in his throat enough to convulse his lungs for oxygen. His knees grind into the ground.