Inside the gym, the atmosphere had shifted into a tense, suffocating game of hide-and-seek. Aron was no longer fighting out in the open; he moved like a phantom, utilizing the rows of heavy iron and cable machines as a makeshift fortress. He wasn't retreating out of fear, but out of necessity, fighting a war of attrition while his body screamed in protest.
Skull paced the open floor near the center, his eyes darting toward the exit. He kept a constant watch on the door Ramon had recently demolished, assuming that Aron's loyalty would eventually force him to make a desperate break for it. He knew that for a man like Aron, the thought of his "precious chairman" facing a full exoskeleton alone would be a slow-acting poison.
