Aron stood perfectly straight amidst the settling dust, his grip tight on the cold grips of his two heavy steel batons. Under normal tactical circumstances, he would have honorably taken on his opponent straight ahead, facing him face-to-face from the very start. But he had deliberately decided on a lethal surprise attack from the ceiling to desperately try and secure the upper hand.
Even if he didn't manage to completely beat the intruder in a single, skull-crushing hit, he reasoned that he could have at least severely injured him to gain some type of physical advantage for the brutal fight ahead.
Because when Aron had intensely watched this masked man through the security cameras—analyzing the simple, terrifyingly efficient movements he had used while casually slaughtering the frontline guards—he had absolutely no doubt in his mind. This person was an elite, trained killer bred by the Black Hand.
