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The top contenders of their breed, these women are all tall with chiseled features, strong calves from their high-heeled boots, and their hands wielding powerful and strong weapons. One holds a two-handed battle hammer, another a fierce cutlass, a third a spear and net, hearkening back to the gladiatorial roots, a fourth with spiked iron knuckles, a fifth rocking twin shields, and a final gladiatrix, thinner than some of the others, but no less tanned, toned, and defiant, holding up a strong and pointed rapier.

“The rules are simple!" The Mistress of Ceremonies begins. “The blonde guest combatants will choose the brunette gladiatrix they will challenge, and each will face their opponents to the death! The winners of the round will then pair off with one of the winners from the other team, leaving some winners to rest on the sideline for that round, if there is an uneven side. This will make the winning team have a bigger and bigger advantage as the night goes on, making it very difficult for the underdog. This will let us find out once and for all who is the superior — blondes or brunettes!"

The combatants all stare each other down, lined up opposite each other and ready to face off. Miss Prim raises her sword, pointing it towards the gladiatrix with the rapier. “As you can see here," she says on the stage, “I go to pick the gladiatrix with the rapier first. After all, I excel in displays of flourish against wielders of my weapon."

Just then, Roberta bumps into Miss Prim and stands in her place, shouting “en garde!"

The gladiatrix flexes her muscles and raises her weapon.

“Seems like Roberta beat you to the punch, there," the analyst says. “Could you imagine what would have happened had you fought her first?"

“Quite possibly something similar to Roberta,"

“Oh, please, you think too low of yourself," Miss Jones interjected.

“I might not have had the stamina to face the others, at least," Miss Prim says, trying to keep herself as humble as she could.

The fight rushes on, as Roberta spins and clashes blades with the gladiatrix. All around them, the others have paired off with their opponents, locked in the mortal dance. This left Miss Prim with the last pick — the gladiatrix with twin shields.

“It must have been tough to get through that defense!" Betty said.

“You'd think so," Miss Prim says, “but there's nothing a little dexterity can't handle. See?" And she runs around, rolling on the sandy floor as the gladiatrix reaches out and slams the shield down where she was, kicking up sand in the air. Miss Prim stands up from the roll, slashing at the gladiatrix's exposed side, piercing through her flesh with a gush of red.

The bewildered gladiatrix drops her shield, allowing Miss Prim to continue her onslaught, rising up into the air with an uppercut right to the crotch.

The gladiatrix shrieks and doubles over, letting go of her other shield, which drops to the ground.

Miss Prim flourishes as she stands up, thrusting her sword forward and into the doubled-over stomach of the gladiatrix. With a twist and pull of the blonde's blade, the gladiatrix tumbles to the ground, splayed on her back.

“What a kill!" enthuses Betty, to cheers of endorsement from the studio audience. “Now, tell me, when was the first time you thought something was off…?" Betty asks, her voice becoming suddenly somber.

“I think it was when I did my bow to the crowd. They usually cheer, even for a slightly less provocative kill like that one. But they were dead silent."

“For good reason," the analyst adds. “Because everyone was focused on the slaughter going on all over the rest of the ring.

Throughout the arena, the blondes do not hold their own. Powerful, defiant gladiatrix after gladiatrix smash and cut and stomp and slice against the challengers. Seline's staff is broken in half with a punch from the iron-knuckled gladiatrix and sent flying back until she is sprawled on the ground. The gladiatrix raises her bloodied hand up in the air and the broken staff in another. Katricia, meanwhile, falls on to her knees as the cutlass gladiatrix spins around, slicing at her wrists, making her fall flat on her face in the sand, not standing up. Karyn, always bouncing around her opponent, zigged when she should have zagged and gets a face-full of net. In response, the gladiatrix walks up to the struggling girl and raises her harpoon, throwing it down to her over and over again. Samantha's daggers go up to parry the gladiatrix's battle hammer, but the gladiatrix's strength is enough to break through her hold, and finish her blond opponent off with that one fell crack.

Then, there's Roberta, panting as her white outfit stains red from her opponent's blows. Meanwhile, the gladiatrix flashes her teeth at her, pulling her fingers in to beckon her closer. The fencer lets out a frustrated battle cry and runs headlong into the rapier-wielder, but the gladiatrix, shorter than her sisters, but still dwarfing the fencer, dips down and thrusts upwards.

Roberta's eyes widen, her mouth aghast with dismay. She turns her eyes over towards Prim, mouthing something that the Matadora cannot hear. The gladiatrix punches the injured woman in the tits, sliding her off of her sword. The blonde stumbles back, before falling onto her knees.

The camera cuts away at the last moment, but Miss Prim sighs at the stage, gripping the hem of her skirt. “I didn't look away… I couldn't. I may have hated a rivalry with her, but I respect Roberta as a warrior."

“Hey, that's the name of the game sometimes," Betty says.

“They were all weak fools. Not real warriors."

A pang hits Prim in the heart as she looks to the person who said that, the analyst. “Ho… How can you say that?" She says. “They are… were, the best in their divisions. There's no way the organization would have picked amateurs to fight those ferocious gladiatrixes!"