His plan was based on the crude suggestion of his caretaker, refined for this specific situation.  Where he was fighting for his life, after sustaining the wounds on his back.

With blood running down his back, Cole retreated down the hallway. Once again, being literally stabbed in his back, making him question how strong his armor was. Knowing the spectacle, it provided his attacker and the fun they'd have when they collapsed. Throwing himself on the ground after pretending to trip. Having his armor fade away, leaving him a pitiful sight.

Staying face down even when he was picked up by his hair. He didn't say a word. He didn't even spit in someone's face.  Staring before, a smile formed on his bloody face.  Letting  his new weapon form in his hand and swung. He didn't count on the single swing being enough, he struck again and again with the morning star not even caring about contact or accuracy. Playing the part of a wounded animal for his trap, something desperate just delivered a new weapon.  But he was careful, precise for his plan.

Destroying one wall before fracturing a mask.  He was hoping it would count with a jaw instead and shatter it.  Enjoying the chain, the reach his weapon provided before coming in close. Stirking again and again before leaving his closing remarks.