The Owlman surveyed the scene before him, his face as inscrutable as ever. Then he closed his eyes and turned his back upon both the monster and it's victims. A loud beat of his wings carried him upwards, up, up, up, into the glare of the sun.

Then he reversed, letting himself fall back into a dive. Building speed, building momentum, pulling his arms in tight to his chest as he arced at terminal velocity toward his target. Not Blood boy. Blood boy wasn't important. He zoomed past him, looking to punch right through that massive clot that contained even a few survivors. 

He wouldn't look at them. He aimed only for the ones that were closest together, navigating by heartbeat alone. He would rely on speed to carry him through the blood wall, along with anyone he complected along the way. If he wasn't traveling fast enough to carry anyone out, then he'd push them out and take their place.