As he reaches to deal with Degaton's wounds, Mid-Nite's hands pass through him. The villain's eyes flicker, immaterial. Shaking, his hand reaches for his stomach, where intangible blood still flows from him.

"You think ... I'd permit ... scum like you ... to save me?" he says, bitterly. "You will not ... lay hands on ... my person. If I die, so be it."

He's in agony, a writhing ghost. It's only hatred and contempt that's fueling him now.