Stage 1: The Beauty Pageant’s Field of Honor

There she stood in front of all those spectators. Her gi revealed thick powerful alabaster legs, Her blond hair was tied into a thick braid. The words Miss Idaho were crammed through the belt loops of her robe. The judges were gob smacked and had no idea what this get up had to do with baton twirling.

“My talent is the ability to best Miss Illinois in unarmed combat.”

There had been an unscheduled change to the programming and no one inside of The Miss Juniper Hope Pageant knew a damn thing about it, save Doris Walters, Miss Idaho. Well, Miss Illinois had an inkling. It’s sort of a sixth sense; game knows game and fight sure as hell knows fight. The moment Miss Idaho looked over at Ife Smith one of the two was sure to be broken soon. When Miss Idaho and Miss Illinois exchanged glances, they could feel the drums beating. Whether or not Miss Illinois would answer the call remained to be seen.

“If you don ‘t come out, I will kill everyone here.”

Anyone that could make that drum beat, should not be underestimated. No, Ife had to rise to the occasion. The evening wear was torn away and left on the ground. In it’s place (quicker than a screencap can be shot), Ife wore green camo cargo pants and a white husband beater. She was a beautiful woman in combat boots. Under the lights, she glowed and her lean frame was revealed to be ever inch a weapon. As she walked onto the stage she heard someone scream FIGHT.

The tempo changed to something faster. Idaho was opening with a horribly swiftly tilting roundhouse. As the cowgirl turned like a blender in midair, our Chitown champion could only block. Her arms grew sore against the onslaught but before Doris could land, Ife was hitting with the hardest haymaker she could manage. It was a whole second before Doris was jumping off the ground and running towards.

Doris was moving like she was on a horizontal stair climber, fastest setting. At the last and only possible second, Ife tried to catch the blond blue eyed human kicking mackine. She failed but succeeded in dodging. There was time now, not much, but time. Ife didn’t have the stamina to survive more. It would end now.

Moving back one step, she tried as her brother had shown her, as her father had done before him, as no woman had ever done. Move back one pace, cup your hands, push forward with only your arms, then your soul. To her amazement there was fire, blue flames extending from her palm flying off her fingers. In the blaze, her rival fell back to the ground after just rising. There was still stamina left in her but Doris was beat, aghast with the wonder of something new.

There was a new challenger for the tournament. Every scrapper from Hong Kong to Lima knew it. One burly mountain of a man in Komchatka heard the sound of drums. The bears had practiced but now he had a real fight coming.

Previous Older Entries