He could silence the crowd with his smile, but his game play left them utterly breathless. Many said he was blessed b*****d child of the goddess Victory and the god Mercury. The immortal forces blessed
Cairo Germogen with the gifts of speed, accuracy, and most importantly, charisma. It was also said he was equally cursed and plagued by the sins of Pride, Lust, Envy
and Avarice.
His jealousy drove him to make everything his own, and his alone.
He was incredible, and he knew it.
He wanted everything, and got it.
Fame. Fortune. Fans. Adoration. One by one they poured into his life, further perpetuating his unquenchable thirst to be the best. There was not a newspaper without his name and picture in the headlines. Not a screeching horde of fans chanting his name. Cairo was a god among men. A god of tennis.
It was a dark and stormy night. Fans huddled together in the freezing rain to see 'The Strutting Peacock', take on the goliath simply known as Githinji. The match was one unlike anyone had seen before, plagued with unbelievable shots, miracle saves, and career-ending dives. Cairo hacked and cleaved his way through each set, carving his name into the history books with every thunderous smash and lightning fast stroke.
The final set was a show stopper. Neck and neck, the competitors clawed and dug for any point they could scour. Countless nail-biting deuces later, Cairo managed to singe an ace serve on the back corner line. The deafening thunder and endless sheets of rain separated the competitors from the distraction of the adoring fans.
"Advantage Server."Determined to finish the set with his next shot, Cairo focused, bouncing the ball on the flooded court. The water spiraled, cutting through the rain to spray his legs, sending another chill straight to his bones. Closing his eyes, he pictured the court, replaying the best shots in his mind. Unfortunately, the key to success in any game was exploiting an opponent’s weaknesses to ones own personal advantage. In a flash, the sweet spot revealed itself. Opening his bright teal blue eyes, Cairo threw the ball into the air. The heavy rain made his racket heavy, like swinging a sledge hammer underwater. All he could hear was the sweet, soft creek of the racket strings caressing the fuzziness of the ball.
In a blinding flash, the game winning shot zipped by; cross-court and close to the net. Obscured by the down pour, Cairo laid motionless on the stiff grass. Water pooling around him as he laid there with his racket, Thor's Hammer, clutched firmly in his hand. An elated, pearly smile gleamed in utter bliss and satisfaction, as his eyes remained fixated on the heavens above. The rain baptized his body, drenching Cairo straight to his soul.
"Game-Set-Match, Mr. Germogen," the referee called from his safely sheltered stand. "Congrautlations."
Struck down by lightning, the people's champion laid spread eagle and stone dead, yet the crowd went wild.
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