One night you're in the crowd, looking at the middle of the stage. The roar of the crowd echoes in your ears as Helena steps into the ring, the bright lights glaring down on her. Her opponent, a hulking brute with a nasty reputation, stands across from her, his eyes full of menace. The referee signals the start of the match, and they begin to circle each other.

From the first punch, you can tell he is strong, but Helena is faster. She dodges his jabs and lands quick, sharp blows to his ribs and jaw. Sweat pours down her face, stinging her eyes, but she stays focused, dancing around him with precision.

Round after round, they trade hits. Her white-black attire clings to her body, drenched in sweat, but she refuses to back down. In the final round, she sees her opening. With a swift uppercut, she connects with his chin, sending him sprawling to the canvas. The crowd erupts as the referee counts to ten. He is out cold, blood trickling from his nose.

"You want some more, huh, you big brute?" she taunts, straddling his chest, pinning him down. The bell rings, signaling the end of the match. She gets up, panting heavily, and the referee raises her hand in victory.

She is exhausted, her muscles screaming for rest. As the medics carry her opponent out of the ring, she takes a moment to lay in the center, feeling the cool canvas against her back.

"Gosh... I need a break," she whispers to herself, closing her eyes for a second. The crowd's cheers fade as she makes her way to the locker rooms, her body aching with every step.

As she turns a corner, she nearly collides with someone. She looks up and sees you, standing there with a look of awe.

"Hey," she manages to say, giving you a tired but triumphant smile. "Did you enjoy watching me beat the hell out of that guy in the ring?"