This is a oneshot. But if feedback is really positive then I'll turn it into a mini fic.

A/N: I don't own anything related to Saints Row. Except the game, obviously.

The octagonal cage looked imposing. It had been locked down tight. But then again, my two opponents were even more imposing. Both had big muscles. Both were powerhouses. Both ate people for breakfast. A trickle of sweat ran down from my forehead. I was nervous. It'd taken ages for me to work my way up to the big leagues of Fight Club. A few months. But now, I was fighting for big money. With big competitors. The sweat made its way down to my tank top. It was quite something being the only chick to have made it to the big leagues. The smaller Fight club was a piece of piss. The basic idea is that they grab some people off of the street who want a fight and let them vent their frustrations on each other. If you start dominating, then you're given a chance to go into the real Fight Club and earn some real money. Not the loose change that floats around in your fallen opponents pockets. Real money. As I said, the public Fight Club was a piece of piss. Don't get me wrong, my first few matches were hard fought, bloody affairs but once I got into the swing of things it was easy enough. It was great that the opponents mostly didn't know how to fight. I trained quite often in self-defence and love the adrenaline that pulses through my veins when you're in a fight. It's incredible. I was wearing my tried and tested fight outfit. Rose tank top with white blocks down the side and a stamped Volition logo and some Rose fading into Cop Dark Blue track pants with white stripes running down it in a straight line down them at nearly every area. The crowd loved it because they thought I looked hot. I loved them because of the manoeuvrability they provided. So they may show off the bruises. So what? They looked and felt great. And I was going to need them.

The one on the right could sense my fear. He knew it. I knew it. Maybe weakling opponents and minimum prize money wasn't so bad after all? No! Stop it! I thought in my mind. The competitors at this level were very serious about their sport. They apparently trained every day in various styles of fighting. I don't need that. No. I can take them! They couldn't take me on their best day! I'm cocksure, admittedly. But if you aren't you have no reason to be in this business. I didn't research much about my opponents. All I knew was that the guy on the left was practicing and using the same fighting style that the Ronin used. I'd met a couple in the older tournaments. I took them. Easily. You're both dead meat. Thoughts like those ran through my head.

The bell rang. And ass-kicking time was a go.

"You scared motherfucker? You should be."

I noticed that that particular voice came from the dude on the right. He hung back for a bit, so I concentrated on Karate Kid in front of me. He attempted a kick to my face. I easily dodged it and replied with a jab. And then another jab. Time for a haymaker.
It's a good thing I always listen to my thoughts as I finished him off with a flying fist. It connected and he fell down. I nearly fell too, but landed on my hands. And then to show off I pushed myself back up.

"You fucked with the wrong girl!"

Unfortunately, I turned around to deal with Deep Bass dude and he rocked me with a powerful right arm. I tried to regain some bearings but he socked me again with a left.

"Holy Shit!"

I screamed that as he placed his arms around my shoulders, lifted me up off the floor and slammed me down on the ground with a ferocious Take Down. I didn't yell in pain. My lungs couldn't take it. I just let out a half assed "ugh" and laid there. I couldn't move. There were three things that stopped me from getting up right minute and giving everyone a violent ass whooping. One, the force on the ground as I hit it had jittered my back out of place. Two, the strength and weight of the guys arm as I landed had crushed my lungs. And Three, I just couldn't move. That one Take Down had killed all and any adrenaline that may have been in my veins. I just lay there.

"Ha ha! Your ass is a wad of cookie dough!"

You won't be laughing when I'm finished with you, asshole.

The one major difference between small Fight Club and big Fight Club is the use of curb stomping. Guess what you can't use in small Fight Club? This came as a shock as the big strapping lads took turns on stamping on my boobs.

Great! I'm going to be flat chested by the end of this!

They fortunately stopped deflating my lovely knockers because Karate Kid decided to attack Deep Bass Cheater.

Now's my chance! Gotta get up.

I took deep breaths. In and out. In and out. I pushed my chest in and then normal breathing returned. The adrenaline was back. I jumped up and got back into my brawler stance. They both looked at me. I stared back. Deep Bass Cheater stepped back, which was a sign that he wanted Karate Kid to take the first blows.

"Waazaah! Come get some!"

Karate Kid and I locked gazes whilst we circled each other.

"Don't worry, I won't do any damage your undertaker won't be able to cover up!"

Shit. He's going to take my beauty! Bring it, bitch!

I landed the first jab, I followed up with another one before performing the Backhand Pimp Slap. He went down but immediately got back up. I landed a vicious haymaker to the stomach, which should have knocked him out. But he just got back up again.

"You're pissing me off!"

The attacks only seemed to aggravate him. At the speed of light he connected with a kick to my head. I became dazed. He then continued the onslaught with a kick to the mid section.

"Dammit!"

I could so easily have blocked those attacks but instead I got cocky and was perfectly set up for the Double Spin Kick to the head. It was perfectly delivered and I would have admired it if I hadn't been on the receiving end. After performing two full spins through the air I landed face first on the floor. If this were anyone else it'd have been lights out but I'm made of sterner stuff.

"Girl, what are you doing here?

Nobody calls me a girl.

I got up and prepared for the attacks. I called him out with a punch. He replied with a kick to the midsection that I blocked at the perfect moment. He tried again, to break my guard with a kick to the head.

No way, Jose.

He charged up an attack. I got prepared to block. I'd been on the receiving end of a Roundhouse Kick before. It wasn't pretty. However he instead struck his leg into my stomach and sent me flying through to the other side of the arena. I landed face first again. He must have punctured one of my ribs because breathing became a monumental struggle. Blood dribbled from my mouth. He started coming towards me.

Shit! No! After losing my perfect record, my looks are all I have left for me!

"Quit squirming!"

Fuck! Neckbreaker! Fight it! Fight it!

He was cutting off my airflow too, which was the worst part. Fortunately, he was actually really weak and all of his strength came from his legs so I could power out easily.

"My God!"

Your God isn't going to save you when I'm finished with you, bub.

I opened with a right, and then a left. I avoided the convention of piling on a special attack at the moment and concentrated on wearing him down. More rights, which was where the power came from, before I finished him off with the Nut Shot. He dropped to the ground like a fly. I locked in my Neckbreaker hold and cinched it tight.

Let's see you break out of this.

He was real easy. Because most of his power came from the legs it meant that he couldn't chew through any gaps in the hold. I leaned in real close to his ear and whispered,

"Don't worry, it happens to everyone."

He then submitted and I snapped his neck in two.

"Now you know why I'm the best!"

My celebration was short lived as Deep Bass Cheating Bastard felt the need to remind me of his presence.

"My woman hits harder than that!"

I turned and stared him down. He stared me down. He moved his hand across his neck, which was used to symbol a "You are going to die" taunt. I used this opportunity to dive in and rock him with two right hands. They fazed him enough for the Backhand Pimp Slap but he didn't go down. I tried getting him again with two more rights to his rock hard stomach, then tried a Nut Shot. He still didn't go down but had to hold onto his crotch, which meant he would be out for a few seconds. I tried to perform the same move he had on me earlier. So I got myself in position and tried lifting. He resisted. I tried again. Still, nothing.

"Big mistake."

Those words whispered into my ear as he lifted me onto his shoulders.

"What the…?"

I never got to finish. He'd scooped me up and planted me on the ground with his Dump Truck DDT.

"Aah!"

I finally let out a yell.

"I've got you, motherfucker! I've got you!"

Another Neckbreaker. I just breathed in and started working on the gaps in the hold.

This guy really needs to practice more.

What he lacked in technique he more than made up for in pure brute strength. I was repeatedly close to the breaker before I'd wrestle it back to the ground. Eventually, I broke free.

"God damn."

He seemed slightly impressed. I tried more punches but to no avail. He started landing some rights now. Hard and vicious. He landed two and then…

"Fuck…"

That was the only word that could trickle out of my mouth as my back landed hard and fast on the dude's leg.

"AAAGH!"

The scream was intense. That Backbreaker had dislocated my spine surely and I just felt like giving up whilst I had some dignity.

"Gonna wind you up like a paper cup."

Not now! Be merciful you lard-ass!

I fought hard. He so nearly had me several times but somehow I managed to break free.

I looked around. Pure strength wasn't going to win this one. I needed some extra help. I saw a chair. I tended to avoid weapons as much as possible. Show off my strength and win properly but desperate times… I grabbed the wooden chair. I looked flimsy, yet strong at the same time. I held it, charged it up, and released.

"YAH!"

The chair disintegrated and the wrestler dude lay on the floor. I grabbed him and started choking.

"You call that a hold?"

Almost as soon as I had it, he'd broken out of it. Then he made me pay for my one second of hesitation as I pondered my next move with two quick strong rights before grabbing my head and pulling it closer.

"Jesus!"

The second that that first Head Butt connected I knew it was over. The second soften me up for the third, which sent me flying backwards. I definitely had brain damage. More blood flowed out of my mouth. It was a fountain. It stained the tank top.

Not my favourite! You son of a bitch!

"You ain't got shit!" he declared.

He would have been correct had the blood not stained the tank top. With a new fire that had never been lit under my ass before I began my onslaught. 3 right jabs. All aimed at the head. Backhand Pimp Slap. 3 lefts. Again, all aimed at the head. Nut shot. He stumbled. I was getting the better of him. 3 alternating punches. Right, left, right. Then I finally finished him with my devastating Right Knee.

No one gets up from my Right Knee.

I raced over to him and cinched in the hold. It was locked in. There was nothing he could do. He even started pleading for me to let him go.

Scream, bitch, scream!

And then, in one sweeping motion, I snapped the neck. I stood. Victorious. Full of glee. I looked at the bodies and blood. I leaned towards the crowd with my hand next to my ear and said,

"What? Say it. Come on. What was that? Yeah!"

The adrenaline returned once more.

I was on fire.

So? What do you think? Comments in the reviews please. But no flaming.