Tom refused to engage properly with Baaron.
Every time Baaron committed to a strike, Tom create more distance between them, using his amazing tactical positioning to keep Baaron at the distance he liked.
Every time Baaron tried to close the gap, Tom's golden flame gloves flashed and pushed him back with a burst of heat that reset the distance between them every single time.
Tom wasn't trying to kill Baaron.
He was wasting his time. And he was enjoying every minute of it.
"You know what I love about the young generation?" Tom said speaking to Baaron as if the two of them were old friends catching up over drinks rather than enemies at the peak of power in the middle of a battlefield. "Every ten years or so, one of them comes along and reminds me why I never fully retired."
Baaron scowled.
Tom kept talking, one hand casually resting on his hip.
