From Bullets To Billions Chapter 629: Updated Status

Skull lay unmoving on the gym floor, with no signs of rising anytime soon. The savage barrage of strikes had concluded, and though the fighter remained still, Aron was absolutely certain of one truth: Skull wasn't dead.

Aron drew in several deep breaths to calm his pounding heart, yet every one triggered a burst of intense, piercing pain in his side. In those closing clashes against the Batons, he'd only managed the suffering by holding his breath during the strain. Enduring the torment now, he simply wished Skull would remain down permanently. Pushed to his absolute edge, Aron wasn't sure he could battle on if the man got up once more.

Glancing around the silent room, Aron picked up a soft humming sound. That's when he spotted the drone still floating there, observing the fight's aftermath.

"Vivian, you’re watching this, right?" Aron said, his voice strained. "Can you deliver me some Zip ties? Or the Fortis group has handcuffs as well, right? If you can get me some of them, that will be great."

The drone bobbed up and down a bit, indicating it understood and acknowledged his ask. Then it pivoted and darted swiftly toward the supply zone.

"Didn’t that drone have a speaker?" Aron muttered to himself as he watched it go. "Why did she make it move like that? I have to admit, it does look kinda cute."

While waiting for the items to arrive, Aron shuffled slowly to the nearest lifting bench by Skull and sank onto it. He fixed his stare on the man sprawled on the floor, vigilantly monitoring his chest to make sure he stayed put. After driving himself so hard to wrap up the brawl, utter exhaustion gripped Aron. It wouldn't shock him if days passed before he could rise without issue again.

Yet in that quiet moment as he sat, Aron's mind drifted back to Skull's words from their brutal tussle.

’A fight to the death is the only option because of who we are... if either of us are alive, then it makes it harder for the other person, since the two of us are escapees,’ Aron pondered.

He glanced at his hands, still quivering faintly. Not long before, those same hands had taken a life once more—something he loathed unless utterly necessary. He hated resorting to it, but the Black Hand's dark shadow always dragged him back into the bloodshed.

The drone returned swiftly, this time carrying a pair of handcuffs suspended from below. Once it released them, Aron hauled Skull's bulky form across the mat. He locked the cuffs tightly around him and a massive gym machine. Only superhuman strength could shift that gear. Though a skilled combatant and ex-Black Hand operative, Skull lacked such power.

’For the moment, staying right here like this suits you best,’ Aron resolved. ’Any other move now might spark worse trouble, but I won't risk you slipping away unnoticed.’

Aron proceeded to rummage through Skull’s pockets, soon uncovering a phone. Pulling out his own, he tapped the screens together repeatedly—transferring data or tagging it—before slipping it back in place.

Task complete, he slumped back onto the lifting bench, clutching his side as the adrenaline ebbed away.

’Like this, I’m useless to anybody,’ Aron thought grimly. ’Even heading upstairs now to aid Max, this wound would just make me a liability.’

He envisioned it clearly. ’Max would take hits worrying about me or shielding me while I lag behind. Damn, if only I'd been more cautious. I should've realized those exoskeleton suits posed such a threat.’

The suit's power proved erratic, and Aron doubted Ramon had mastered it fully. In fact, he figured Max's best shot at victory lay early in the bout, not prolonged. The longer it dragged, the more the wearer adapted, growing deadlier with the suit's force.

Still, the real problem was Max facing not one, but two foes.

"Vivian," Aron called out again, glancing up as the drone returned to hover nearby.

"You’re watching everything from the cameras, right? So you should know everything that’s happening. Tell me... how is Max doing? Isn’t there any way you can help him with the situation he is in right now?"

In the control room, Vivian swiftly checked other parts of the building. The Rangers' skirmishes were wrapping up, but fresh attackers were storming in, climbing higher floors and breaching outer lines.

This stemmed largely from Stephen's exhaustion in the courtyard; his guards prioritized his safety over blocking entrants. Thus, no one remained free to rush upstairs and back Max.

And Max's own predicament loomed large.

"I’m not going to lie to you," Vivian’s voice emerged from a nearby terminal, laden with gravity. "It doesn’t look good."