"I need to clean the fountain area," Martin replied simply.
Tyler moved closer, aggressively invading the older man's personal space. The height difference was brutal. The age gap was glaring.
"See, that's the issue, Pops. You think your mop schedule trumps real sweat? This gym's my ring, not your playground."
Amanda's phone tracked every second. "Ladies and gentlemen," Tyler spun to address his growing, uncomfortable audience. "Perfect example of what's wrong today. No respect for hierarchy. Our maintenance staff got too comfortable."
"I apologize if I've inconvenienced anyone," Martin said, his voice carrying clearly. "I'm simply doing my job."
Tyler's laugh was ugly, sounding like broken glass. "Your job is whatever I say it is, old man. Right now, you're in my way."
He stepped so close that Martin had to look up to meet his eyes. Tyler cracked his knuckles and rolled his massive shoulders. He wanted absolute, crushing humiliation.
"I'm throwing one punch. Just one," Tyler announced loudly, flexing for the lenses.
"If you dodge my haymaker, I'll bow down. When I connect, you'll learn your place."
He shoved Martin violently. The cleaning cart crashed over, bottles shattering and fluids spilling across the mat. Tyler screamed, slamming the 68-year-old against the gym wall. Champions Den went dead silent. Phones were raised, recording what looked like a tragic, one-shot knockout waiting to happen.