WW9, Fools, Group UNO

A shock goes through my arm as the mesh of my racket swiftly collides with the bright green hollow sphere flying its way. His serve was solid, sure, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I narrow my gaze in on the ball as it soars over the net, back onto my opponent’s side. I take a quick glance downward, catching view of my stance. My brand new, all white Nikes instantly take dominance in the court. Glowing brighter than the court lines, they extend from my leg, creating quick flashes of light as I dart from one end of the court to the other. Cut to the left- flash. Cut to the right- flash. Flash, like lightning- fast, dominant, bright, and beautiful. They should nickname me Zeus. How fitting.