Fiction: Stormwolf and Basalt

I had him on a clock. I could set up a lightning strike in a couple of minutes, but he looked stronger and faster, I'd have to last out till then. I'd been tweaking the air pressure down bit by bit as fast as I'd dared since Magmae suggested the match, and as soon as the match started. That felt fair, and more to the point, felt dramatic.

He was doing some basic stretches, and as he moved, his flesh seemed to flex and boom like stone. I expected he'd be that hard underneath. I recognised some of the stretches; I expected he'd had some training.

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