Agitated and aggressive, an olive-skinned, lean-muscled hulk in workout clothes postures defensively in the middle of the aisle. Her bountiful, curly black hair, restrained but untameable, swings behind her head as she circles, aiming for a confrontation. Her stance reminds you of a wrestler. That's it! She's the captain of the college's women's wrestling team, Antonia Russo. She's a four time, consecutive champion, a real force to contend with, and she's making a run for the door!
You rush to prevent her escape, should her Olympian athleticism or pumping adrenaline allow her to leap two hundred feet to the handle or somehow tear the door from its hinges. Only two steps in pursuit, your heavy footfalls get Antonia's attention. She stops and spins, powerfully postured but unprepared for what comes at her. For all her skill and all her muscle, an inch tall wrestling champion cannot contest a confrontation with the big toe of someone your size.
You grab her easily. She struggles and shouts and curses. Her voice strikes you as strong as her physical might. Her words, little-mouthed as they might be, impact you heavily. You drop her into a glass beaker, one hopefully too tall for her to clamber out of. She makes an attempt sure enough, but cannot reach the lip of the jar or get solid footing against the smooth glass. She pounds her fists against the invisible wall.
Her mighty voice echoes up the tube, demanding you undo whatever you did to her, followed by a stream of abusive frustration culminating a threat that her whole division will kick your ass when they hear about this.
"You wanna get beat by a woman, you creep? You think you're tough? Think you're real big, huh? Take me on at your own size, lightweight! I can take you! Fuckin' bring it!"
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