The crunching of his thighs could be heard throughout the stadium as Bimone Smiles stepped up to the floor. He was the crowd favorite, and as long as he could land his routine perfectly, the gold medal would indeed be his. The sound rang for him to begin his routine, but it wasn't the beep he was expecting; it was the gong.
"No," he whispered. "Why during my routine?" But before he could finish his thought, dozens of ninjas streamed through the various entrances, and down from the rafters. For every Olympic event there was a one in eighty-seven-thousand chance that the athlete would instead have to face a ninja attack, and today that athlete was Bimone.
With little time to think, Bimone took to the floor and began his routine as rehearsed; he'd have to make up the rest on thy fly as he defended himself from the attacking ninjas. The first three onto the floor attacked him from all directions, but they were no match for his quads, which he used to kick his lower legs back and bludgeon their faces with his heels. Like a hulking Irish step dancer, he continued this approach with the first few waves; it was effective, and it bought him time to think about how to approach the remaining hundred or so.
Bimone didn't want it to come down to such an inelegant method, but the only idea he could think of next was to return to his breakdancing days. He spun into a windmill, and whenever a ninja got close, he would flare out, taking them down with his mace-like calves. Another twenty down, Bimone needed to rest. He halted in a baby freeze, scanning his surroundings. It looked like the ninjas were bringing weapons now.
"Ain't no rest for the winded" he sighed.
Like an explosion of pure muscle, Bimone leapt from his freeze, and landed facing the nearest enemy, his legs crunching once again. He sensed throwing stars whizzing toward him, so vaulted into a series of backflips, reflecting each projectile back to its owner with his mighty glutes.
After the stars came grappling hooks. They were teaming together to try and take him down, and no doubt bind him, if they could. But Bimone wouldn't let that happen. He decided to decrease the total surface area he presented them to grapple by dropping completely to the floor.
The ninjas clearly thought he'd given up because they nearly pounced on him to try and immobilize him. Instead, with grappling hooks snagging each of his limbs, he swiftly pulled himself into a tight ball, sending those still gripping the ropes flying into each other, their heads going completely coconuts.
Then Bimone wrapped the ropes around each of his limbs and once again began spinning and twirling across the floor. Remember elegance and remember the boundary he recalled. This was not the performance he expected to give, but it still counted, and all the rules were still in place. With grace, he swung the ropes around, snaring and tangling ninjas with each rotation. He was a maelstrom of woven ninja-vanquishing.
Eventually he felt the ropes spinning too freely and realized he'd defeated all of the ninjas. all of them, except one. The boss he thought.
A crazed look appeared on the boss' face, and then he ran like a maniac into the middle of the floor. He approached Bimone with flailing movements which could only be a poor rendition of taijutsu. The poor ninja.
Bimone was hoping for a challenge, but a simple pirouette-powered kick to the stomach knocked him out. The ninjas were defeated, and Bimone looked to the judges table. Suspense hung in the air as they wrote down their scores.
Then they lifted up their scores. 7.5s across the board. Bimone grew furious.
"Seven point five! Are you kidding me! I didn't cross the line for a second, and I defeated every single one of them!"
Security had to step in to protect the judges. Once he'd been calmed down enough, Bimone stomped off the floor, leaving giant holes behind each step. The Olympics continued on, but Bimone stayed in the locker room, seething.
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