Sixteen tall, slender beauties are ushered into a large, darkly lit room. Some walk with a clear air of confidence, while others are shy, eyes flittering around the room nervously. They make their way in single-file onto a large podium, after which the sound of a siren resonates through the area. A dark figure appears at the other end of the room, behind a desk. Some of the girls squeal, some cover their mouths in anticipation. One bites her nails.
The lights flicker on to reveal the show's host, supermodel Lyra Hanks.
“We're back, bitches!” Lyra shouts, grinning as the girls begin to lose their s***. “Welcome to the semifinals of America's Next Top Model, Cycle Two!
It's been a long time coming, and I couldn't be more excited! I scoured the country and found sixteen amazing girls who I think have what it takes to be the next big thing – the next Roxy; the next Skye.”
A few of the girls start to cry, and Lyra chuckles. “During this semifinal you ladies will face your very first judging panel, which like last cycle, will take the form of a model casting session. You will each do a runway walk towards my desk, after which you will - in the clothes you're wearing - take your very first photo of the competition. You will then state your name, age and location, after which you will be asked a few questions by myself, which I will use to determine who has the most reality televi-- uh, er… model potential. Are you all ready?"
"Hell yeah!" A statuesque black girl fist-pumps the air.
"Fantastic! I expect each of you to bring your a-game and show me your potencial, because things aren't going to be as easy as last cycle - four of you will be sent home by the end of this."
There are a fair few gasps and a high-pitched, nervous laugh. One of the girls is already crying.
"First up," Lyra prowls as she takes a seat at her desk, flicking through a bunch of papers at her side. After a moment, she thrusts her finger toward one of the girls, eyes narrowing. "You."
The competition begins.