The Cyborg closes the distance, and brutally left hooks the Corpsman out of the path of the attack, ceasing it at the same time. With a brief exertion of Kryptonian superspeed, he is there to intercept the man before he can hit the ground. With a Kryptonian mitt. To the throat.

"Hm. No." His grip tightens with beyond surgical precision, just enough to not outright kill the man. "You do not deserve the peace of the grave, Jordan." The damage to his right arm melted away, as it returned to it's designed shape under the influence of Henshaw's cybernetic transmorphing.

It winged back, ready to deliver one more seismic punch, to the chin, surrounded and augmented by a fervent golden light. Hank's eyes glowed bright red, and he anticipated Jordan's final move...