Mercy ill spent then. The alley rings with the clash of metal and Wrath's arm stings from the shock, but the machete stays within his white-knuckled grasp. And with the hood over-extended from that sweeping strike, Wrath takes his chance to counter.
Letting go of the windowframe he shifts all his weight forward and pushes off with his good leg, trying to grab his assailant just under the shoulders and bring them both to the ground. Risky, but wounded as he is, he needs to bring this fight to close quarters.
That and the little voice in the back of his head told him it was a good idea.