Aaron kept running until his breath was forced and ragged. Likewise, the corruption had made him... physically, better but for the gummy black residue that gathered on his palms and chest no matter what he did.

Riddler obviously heard enough to make him incensed. More than he was already. Good, Aaron thought vindictively. He kept running even as his lungs got worse, like they were on fire.

The ribbon lacerated his clothing and skimmed his flesh-- he cried out-- before his own magic made a protective covering.

He could escape into the farmlands if he wanted to run a lot, or merely into the commercial district-- it entailed running past more apartments and the mall. That, he could do. He called on some gooey, icky shadow to congeal where his feet touched the ground to stop Riddler in his tracks, should he step in Aaron's footsteps.