And Consequences Be Damned

Justine watched as everyone slowly got to their positions. She saw the sour look on Mica’s face. She smirked. Well, Mica had to be better at clearly indicating who she was pointing to at any given moment. Time to get this show rolling again. She darted to the top of the bleachers and into a small commentator's box. Settling down, she waited for the master, and the non-participants of this challenge were in the bleachers.

She cleared her throat and tapped on the mic, “Wǒmen huíláile! Welcome to Mica’s challenge course. This is the first of many challenges facing our competitors in seeking the Master's favour. Mica has chosen her opponents, and the stage is primed for your viewing pleasure.”

She grinned as the sounds of thousands of people echoed over the track. Everyone she saw flinched at the abrupt sound. In a way, she was glad that the set had proved a variety of goodies. It wouldn’t be fun otherwise. Of course, she could have done it all by herself, but where's the fun in that? Precisely the reason this set was on her shortlist. Much easier to persuade and rewire the set to handle minor niggles.

She focused back to her part, “A brief description of what exactly Miss Mica Norwood faces in this challenge. From her teaching ability to a younger audience and her speaking to her parents about a delicate subject, she decided that her physical ability was her best shot at getting her points and your vote. How you want to judge her and future contestants is up to you.”

She purred out, “Right, right description of the challenge. Since the early days of humanity, we have been testing ourselves physically throughout the eons. The pinnacle of this is the Olympics. And in conjunction with Mica’s modifier earlier, we will be honoring the early parts of that history.”

Mica stared forlornly at that commentator’s box. What’s with the clapping? Were there invisible people she couldn’t see? She felt her heart drop into her stomach. Calm down, it‘s only you and several colleagues present … Colleagues that she would see again after this … competition was over. Cross that bridge when it happens.

Her attention returned to the voice smugly booming over the speakers, “However, to admire what has gone before, let’s take a look at what current professional wear looks like, taken, of course, from the Modern Olympics familiar to Thomas and co.”

A puff of smoke emanated from her left side. As she turned to look, she felt a chill run up her spine. That person’s clothes had warped from a nice cardigan and pants to a very tight-fitting white and blue crop top and a pair of bikini-looking bottoms. That fuzzy hair got tied into a fuzzy ponytail. At least that person had skin that suggested infrequent time outdoors.

“All very sexy, is it not?” Boomed that host person over the speakers. “There is also a more conservative style of dress from the beginning of these Modern Olympics. The lovely lieutenant will demo that for you to see.”

As Mica’s gaze turned towards the lieutenant, a bright flash like a camera flash blinded her. Her hands flew up and rubbed at her eyes. When she could see, the outdoorsy lieutenant looked as she expected. While not tanned per se, she had that healthy glow of someone who was outdoors for a good chunk of the day. The basic T-shirt and loose gym shorts she had on revealed the tone of her limbs. Besides, she had a figure with generous curves, compared to her own flatness. It just was not fair that she was also closer to what Mica admired and wanted for herself. At least be tall enough to meet other women in the eyes without tilting her head.

“Not much different. A bit longer on the sleeves and leggings.”

Mica turned her attention to the commenters' box. A cold, clammy feeling gripped her throat. Calm down. Take long breaths, exhale. What that host said or did couldn't be that bad, right? This is the first challenge, right? These shows had a ramp-up in action to hold the audience's attention, right?

“Now for Mica sojourn into olden times. While it is true that the ancient Greeks were unrepentantly against women participating in many things, we’ll ignore that since none of them are here today. And it is well known that those fabulous Greeks compete with what they were born with and maybe some oil.”

Mica prepared for something. The only thing that happened was that a breeze picked up and some dust blew away. Wait. Where did all those particles come from?

“Isn’t she lovely?”

She glanced down at herself. For a moment, all she could do was stare. Her grampa once compared something to a dial-up modem. She looked it up out of a bored curiosity. Now the screams of her brain and body filled her head. And after what felt like forever but probably only a few seconds, her voice box also produced its own screech as she covered herself as best she could. How could this get any worse?

The booming smugness spilling from the commentators' box recovered a piece of her attention.

“As a reminder for those tuning in: in the challenges, the only way to earn VP unless stated otherwise is to complete the challenge. Anything that would otherwise be awarded VP is not valid during the challenges. Right now is a good example. Mica, if she had undressed in front of Thomas, would have earned some points; however, since this is within the challenge time, she will not be awarded those points.”

Oh, so there was a way it could be worse. Shit.

“However, if Mica went to Thomas in her birthday suit after this challenge, she would get those VPs for doing so. And after all, it would be easier since Mica has already done so.”

Mica's heart leapt into her throat. The nerve of the … woman. She wished … No point in doing that. It wouldn’t change the heat thundering on her face nor dispel the ants crawling on her arms and legs.

“One last thing for those wondering. Their clothes have been returned to their rooms.”

Oh, joy. Mica hoped she could slip away to dress once this humiliating scene was done with.

“Now that clarification is done with, onto the rest of this challenge. Mica and her two opponents will compete in three track and field events. First up, since they are at the start line, are the hurdles.”

As the woman spoke, hurdles dropped down from the sky in front of her. A quick count of the ones in front of her showed ten hurdles. She presumed that the others also had the same amount. On the far end of the track, a blue finish line burst into view.

“For those not familiar with this event, here is how it goes. This hurdle race is a one-hundred-meter race with obstacles. The obstacles, or hurdles, are three feet tall and are spaced nine meters apart. The runners are to clear the course as quickly as possible. What makes the hurdles different is that competitors have to jump over them, not go around them or run through them. Of course, in normal hurdles, all that matters is getting to the other side as fast as possible. As long as you attempt to jump the hurdle, it doesn’t really matter if you knock the hurdles down or not. However, what would be the fun in that? So each time a hurdle is knocked down, something interesting will be applied going forward for Mica’s challenge.”

Mica stared forlornly. Of course, this was the challenge with the modifier. Well, there wasn’t a lot more of her dignity left. Hopefully, Dr Haywood was covering his eyes.

The voice in the commenters' box smugly boomed, “So good luck, everyone. You start at the sound of the gun.”

Mica shook herself a little. It was go time, whether she wanted it to be or not. Ok, maybe focus on running the damn race. Not like anyone besides the two people next to her could see anything anyway.

Waiting. Waiting. She heard the starting gun. As best as she could while covering herself, she sprinted towards the hurdles. Even by the first one, her legs were twinging. When was the last time she ran seriously? Not important now. Jumping the hurdle, she felt her back foot catch on … Shit! The hurdle! Can’t stop now.

There’s no penalty at that moment. Oh shit, already at the next one. Jump!

Nothing caught that time. She caught a blur of movement beside her. The outdoorsy one raced ahead, jumping like a gazelle. Have to push ahead. Next one up.

Lungs burning. Ok, can’t have a hand covering bottom. Felt the hurdle with the tips of fingers. Reposition the arm over the chest. Jump.

Legs cramping. How many more? Shit, more than half.

Or about that now. God, there’s a cramp in her butt. Got to move forward.

Hell, why did I pick this? Let me fall into a deep sleep after this.

Was that a bang? Keep running.

Tummy burning. Why?

Shit.

Mica crossed the finish line, snot and other fluids leaking out of her face. She sank onto her knees, one hand moving to be on her abdomen. A few moments passed by. The fading of the sound of blood to her brain allowed her to hear what, apparently, the host was chatting about the race.

“It seems that everyone has finished. Now then, onto the results. Coming in a clean first place is Ms. Clara Poulin. Besides slight wobbles of the hurdles, she dashed through without any effort.”

“Although crossing the line second, Ms. Mica Norwood knocked over two hurdles. Ms. Norwood will be facing the consequences there. You might even say she’ll feel the heat with that. Besides that, her reduction of time puts her behind Ms. Alexa Goldstain.”

Mica braced for something to happen. All that happened was that the fire in her stomach grew a little stronger.

“And speaking of our last competitor, I haven’t seen a performance that slow since they substituted a shot putter in. It is a testament that neither knocked down any hurdles. However, I disapprove of the lack of effort shown. So I am giving Ms. Goldstain a penalty. Since you like being slow, how about being a little tied up?”

Mica stared at the woman called Alexa. It would be good for someone else to be in as much discomfort as she was. As she watched, a piece of the finish line snaked up and started tying up Alexa. It snaked around her body, making a web on her body. It was followed by tying one arm to her side. Well, at least, she looked uncomfortable with the arrangement and hoped it would impede her progress even more.

“With that done, we’ll have a little break for a commercial, and we'll be right back.”