"What is it, Fletcher? Is that all you've got?" Victor teased, but without a trace of emotion.
Fletcher stood slowly, his eyes burning with anger. The cruel smile was still there, though more forced now. "You think you've beaten me, Victor? I still have an ace up my sleeve."
Then Fletcher pulled a small glass ball, about the size of a thumb, from his pocket. In one swift motion, he smashed the sphere against the floor. A blinding flash of light filled the warehouse courtyard, blinding Victor for a moment. He felt the heat spread through the room, and a supernatural wind began to circulate, kicking up dust and debris.
When Victor's vision returned to normal, he saw that Fletcher was surrounded by a pulsating energy field, a yellow aura.
"That, my dear, is portable magic. Now you'll see what I'm really capable of." Fletcher said, clenching his right fist.
Victor raised both fists, his guard up. "Magic won't save you, Fletcher. I've faced much worse."
