From Bullets To Billions Chapter 624: The Shadow in the Gym

The gym skirmish followed a predictable course at the outset. Aron was engaged in a brutal clash with Skull, a battle-hardened Black Hands member. While they swapped fierce hits amid the weight benches and running machines, Aron's dominance became ever clearer. His strikes flowed with greater precision, his tempo more controlled; victory loomed just moments away.

Everything changed with Ramon's entrance.

Unlike fellow Gilt Rat fighters sporting scattered experimental equipment, Ramon donned a complete exoskeleton armor. This engineering nightmare featured pressurized arm sleeves, sturdy leg supports rising to secure his thighs for peak power, and a core chest plate serving as the system's vital hub.

His armor bestowed blistering speed and raw might far surpassing the rest. To Aron, it loomed as an impossible barrier. During their initial quick skirmish, Ramon's powered punch exploded forward; the blow shattered one of Aron's batons like brittle kindling.

Aron now positioned himself amid the gym's cleared space, breaths coming short. Ramon loomed right ahead, suit hydraulics whispering, as Skull flanked from the rear to block escape.

"Okay, this'll be tough," Aron muttered under his breath, clenching his grip on the lone baton left. He sank into a low stance, gaze flicking between the dual threats. "But these are the moments I must conquer. I need to show I'm fit to guard him."

He refused to get trapped between them. Aron whirled suddenly and rushed Skull, smashing his baton down in a savage overhead blow fueled by his full body weight. Skull countered fast, raising forearms to deflect the bar. He tensed, teeth clenched for the next assault, yet none followed.

Rather than pursue Skull, Aron twisted off the rebound's force. He darted at Ramon, who advanced from behind for the kill. The shift was seamless, as if Aron foresaw the perfect trap timing.

Ramon flinched at the unexpected pivot. Spotting Aron barreling in, he readied his armor for impact. Yet as Aron neared, no strike landed. He slid sharply sideways, nearly evading Ramon's charge entirely.

"What the hell? Is he fleeing?" Ramon bellowed, voice bouncing from the reflective walls.

Ramon tracked Aron vanishing into the gear jungle, dodging cable setups and power cages. Rage surged within him. He grabbed a hefty dumbbell off the ground, suit motors humming to handle the load.

"You think you can escape me!" Ramon thundered. He launched the weight like artillery. It sliced the air whistling, but Aron had dodged. The mass crashed into a leg press rig, warping thick metal with a grotesque groan, utterly wide of the mark.

Silence gripped the gym briefly. Ramon and Skull prowled warily through the machinery rows, searching for motion. They stalked an invisible prey in an iron labyrinth.

Out of nowhere, Aron burst from hiding behind Skull.

Skull detected the danger split-second late, wheeling to parry the baton with his arms. But Aron flowed onward. He ducked low, unleashing a vicious leg sweep that hammered Skull's shins. Skull toppled, crashing supine with a solid thump.

Skull lay exposed on his back. Aron seized the chance, driving his baton tip straight down toward the throat for a final end.

From the side, a second dumbbell hurtled viciously. Aron twisted at the brink, raising his baton to intercept. Yet Ramon's hurl packed overwhelming force. It pulverized the baton into shards that scattered wildly.

The collision hurled Aron stumbling from Skull. By the moment Skull regained footing and Ramon surged close, Aron had vanished anew. He slipped silently into the equipment gloom, steps hushed on the floor mats.

"Ramon, let me handle him," Skull urged, massaging sore legs while glancing about anxiously.

"What? So you fail him again?" Ramon sneered, chest plate pulsing with power cycles. "This punk's got some elite training."

"True, but he's switched tactics entirely," Skull countered, staring at treadmill lineup. "My guess—he's not aiming to win, just stall for time."

Skull nodded at the arena door. "I get you trust Darius, but someone else might match him. Aron's dragging this out so his boss gets max shot at victory. Darius's victor joins here, turning it two-versus-two we could lose."

Skull eyed the wrecked baton bits littering the ground. "That toss of yours wrecked his final weapon. He's unarmed now, probably hurt from the hit. I can wrap this. Go back Darius up."

Ramon paused, cybernetic gaze spinning as he weighed the plan. Unsure of Skull's read, he prioritized securing the Chairman's defeat himself.

Ramon snatched another dumbbell, flinging it dead-on at the gym door. The blast ripped hinges free, demolishing the barrier.

"He better be finished when we get back," Ramon growled. Suit legs propelled him in a mechanical streak out the door toward Max.