The doors opposite me slowly creak open, and I feel a burst of cool air rushing through them, flooding through the warm pit. I'm not sure if it's the cool air or my own excitement that brings my nipples to stand firm underneath my bikini top, but inevitably they do so, and as my foe is finally visible between the doors, it's no surprise that such a reaction was just naturally bound to occur. My foe is just as curvy as I am, and yet at the same time, carries all the same toning and muscle definition... like two splitting images forced to compete to understand who is the original, and who was the copy.
As the crowd erupts into a second wave of excitement, the noise is drowned out behind me, focused solely on yourself and the ever closing distance between us. I see every ripple of muscle beneath your skin, watching your abs tensing, and your legs moving, your arms waving up to the crowd as you strut. It's all infuriating because I know I do it better. Finally, you make it to your mark, standing opposite me, only a meter or so between us now, as we stare one another down. I don't say anything though, the crowd is still too loud for any message to be received, and with the creaking of the doors on top of that, it's nearly deafening.
We share a solemn silence, as the crowd erupts, and we watch over one another's shoulders as the doors finally seal closed, and locking mechanism clasps the doors closed, sending a brief hush over the crowd as the gong to signal the match surely won't be that far off now. With the silence though, it finally gives us a chance to engage before we become engaged. "I noticed that belt on your hips when you walked in before giving it to the organizer... I hope you enjoyed it because you'll never wear it again when I'm around." I snarl at you, flexing and stretching slightly on my mark as I stare you down.
There is now a booming voice across the pit, as our 'vital information' is shared for the audience to hear, but like usual, we both drone this out... I don't care how big you are... I care about how soon I can get claws on you, but I don't have to wait long, because just as the spiel from our vitals comes to an end, the Gong sounds, and war is commenced.
