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#Post#: 5774--------------------------------------------------
Fight 16 Dakota Fanning vs Sydney Sweney
By: BadAssBunnies Date: July 11, 2025, 9:24 am
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[font=trebuchet ms]Sin City Slugfest VI[/font]
[font=trebuchet ms]Blind Fold Match[/font]
[font=trebuchet ms]Dakota Fanning vs Sydney Sweeney[/font]
HTML https://i.imgur.com/KXwakch.png
[font=arial]Fighter Profiles & Tale of the Tape[/font]
[font=arial]Dakota Fanning[/font] [list]
[li][font=arial]Age:[/font] 30 (born February 23, 1994)[/li]
[li][font=arial]Height:[/font] 5'4" (163 cm)[/li]
[li][font=arial]Weight:[/font] 121 lbs (50 kg)[/li]
[li][font=arial]Reach:[/font] 65" (163 cm)[/li]
[li][font=arial]Background:[/font] Dakota is an accomplished
actress known for her roles in various films and series. While
not publicly known for athletic pursuits, her dedication to kick
boxing suggest a strong work ethic and mental fortitude.[/li]
[li][font=arial]Style:[/font] Likely to rely on agility and
strategic movement, using her reach to maintain distance and
capitalize on counterattacks.[/li]
[/list] [font=arial]Sydney Sweeney[/font] [list]
[li][font=arial]Age:[/font] 27 (born September 12, 1997)[/li]
[li][font=arial]Height:[/font] 5'3.5" (161 cm)[/li]
[li][font=arial]Weight:[/font] 119 lbs (54 kg)[/li]
[li][font=arial]Reach:[/font] 62" (160 cm)[/li]
[li][font=arial]Background:[/font] Sydney has a background in
combat sports, including boxing and MMA training, which she has
pursued for roles and personal fitness.[/li]
[li][font=arial]Style:[/font] Aggressive and powerful,
utilizing her combat training to deliver strong punches and
maintain pressure on her opponent.[/li]
[/list][font=arial]Pre-Fight Odds & Analysis[/font]
Odds: Sydney Sweeney (-120) vs. Dakota Fanning (+115)
Analysis: Sydney's combat sports background and physical
strength give her a very slight edge in this matchup. Dakota's
reach, speed, agility and strategic mindset could counter
Sydney's aggression if she effectively manages distance and
timing.
Strategic Considerations[list]
[li][font=arial]Dakota's Approach:[/font] She should focus on
maintaining distance, using her reach advantage to land
counterpunches and avoid close exchanges.[/li]
[li][font=arial]Sydney's Approach:[/font] Utilize her strength
and combat training to close the distance quickly, applying
pressure and aiming for powerful body shots to wear down
Dakota.[/li]
[/list] [font=arial]
Round 1:[/font]
The bell rang — and the crowd held its breath. The blindfolds
had only come off seconds earlier, and when Sydney Sweeney and
Dakota Fanning locked eyes for the first time in the center of
the ring, the realization hit both women like a thunderclap.
They immediately knew that they were from rival stables and
without any encouragement they each knew what was expected of
them. Completely destroy the other woman. No words were
exchanged. No smirks. No glares. Just pure, focused fury — the
kind that can only simmer beneath the surface until it explodes
in a slugfest.
And Sydney exploded first. With a grunt, she launched herself
forward like a bullet from a gun, her gloves snapping up in
front of her face, her movement crisp and deliberate. Dakota,
caught slightly flat-footed, managed to get her guard up in
time, but Sydney was already in her face, cutting the ring in
half, walking her down with utter confidence.
Hooks to the ribs, uppercuts into the solar plexus, and a short
overhand right that clipped Dakota on the ear and made her
stumble back two steps. Sydney was bullying her — plain and
simple. Dakota tried circling, tried keeping distance, but the
busty juggernaut kept her grounded with relentless body work.
Her gloves thudded into Dakota’s sides like a drumline.
Dakota’s jab flicked out in retreat — not meaningless, but not
enough to slow Sydney’s charge. A couple landed flush, but they
were range-finders, not damage dealers. Sydney kept slipping
them, ducking low and digging to the body. Two minutes in, it
looked like Dakota was already getting overwhelmed.
Laura Marano was in Dakota's corner and shouting instructions —
“Stick and move! Circle out! Don’t trade inside!” — but Sydney
was pressing, pounding, punishing.
Then, with under a minute to go, everything changed. Sydney
stepped in with another right to the ribs — but she over
committed. She leaned just a little too far forward, her weight
coming off balance. Dakota, retreating, paused — and let fly.
A lightning-fast straight left. It wasn’t heavy. It wasn’t even
part of a combo. It was a desperate, instinctive,
textbook-perfect counter punch. Sydney’s eyes widened as it
landed square on her chin right on the button. Sydney's head
jolted back. Her knees buckled. Her arms froze. And just like
that, the unstoppable force collapsed.
Sydney fell straight to her backside, blinking at the lights
overhead, mouth slightly open in shock, her legs splayed as if
someone had yanked the power cord. The arena exploded in
disbelief. Dakota stood frozen, eyes wide, staring down at the
woman she had barely been surviving against for most of the
round.Sydney blinked, shook her head, and slapped the canvas
once before pushing herself up to her knees. The ref was
counting.
“Four... Five...”
“Six... Seven...”
She took a breath, then stood at Eight — arms up, jaw clenched,
nodding to the official.
“I’m good,” she growled, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.
The ref gave her a hard look, then waved the fight back on.
Dakota surged forward, her corner screaming at her, “SUGAR T!TS
IS DONE! FINISH HER!”
But Sydney wasn’t out of it — not by a long shot.
She circled, gloves tight, footwork firm, and weathered Dakota’s
last push. Dakota, trying to close the gap, didn’t have the
speed or power to capitalize. She let her hands go, but Sydney
covered up, clinched, tied her up, and burned the clock as
Dakota pounded away with everything she had until the bell rang.
Dakota raised her arms and Sydney took a step back her left leg
almost collapsing still reeling from the after effects knock
down.
The crowd was split — some screaming for Dakota’s miracle punch,
others in awe of Sydney’s early destruction. Both corners were
frenzied. Dakota’s team shouted with glee, slapping her
shoulders, yelling about how she just stole the round. Sydney’s
crew got ice on her neck, barked about staying composed, and
reminded her she had nearly knocked Dakota out for two full
minutes.
Back in their stools, both women stared across the ring —
breathless, bruised, and now very aware of exactly who they were
up against. This was far from over.
Score: 10-8 Dakota Fanning (with knockdown)
Damage: Dakota — swelling left cheek, sore ribs starting; Sydney
— still groggy after the knockdown
Round 2:
The bell rings and Dakota Fanning, still energized from the
unexpected knockdown she delivered in the first, looks to build
on the momentum. She bounces lightly on her toes, gloves up,
trying to keep Sydney Sweeney at bay with a flurry of fast
combinations.
Dakota lands a couple of crisp jabs that snap Sydney’s head
back, drawing gasps from the crowd. She seems to be finding a
rhythm—in and out, circling left, popping the jab. But Sydney is
done playing games. She narrows her eyes, keeps her chin tucked,
and absorbs the shots with minimal reaction. Then, like a loaded
spring finally releasing, she explodes forward.
A brutal right cross detonates on Dakota’s cheek, rocking her
back on her heels. The blonde’s head snaps violently to the
side, and her knees wobble. The crowd roars. Before Dakota can
retreat, Sydney is already inside, punishing her midsection with
a thudding left hook that buries itself into Dakota’s ribs.
Dakota grunts, mouthpiece flashing as she doubles over slightly.
Her gloves drop. Sydney doesn’t hesitate. She steps in and fires
a savage right uppercut, launching Dakota’s head backward. The
punch lifts Dakota’s feet an inch off the canvas before she
crashes to the mat on her back, her limbs sprawled, blinking up
at the lights. The crowd is on its feet.
The ref is immediately down, counting.
"One! Two! Three!"
Dakota blinks, eyes fluttering. She rolls to her side, then to
her knees. She grabs the middle rope and pulls herself upright
by the count of eight, but she’s clearly dazed. Her ribs are
heaving. Her cheek is swelling.
The referee looks at her closely, asks her to raise her gloves.
She does—barely. The ref waves the fight back on, and Sydney
storms forward again. But Dakota, to her credit, survives. She
backpedals, clinches when necessary, and throws just enough
counter jabs to keep the ref from stepping in. Still, the round
is all Sydney. The bell finally rings, saving Dakota from
further punishment.
Back in their corners, Dakota’s team scrambles to work on her
ribs and cheek, shouting encouragement while applying ice and
checking her vision. Meanwhile, Sydney’s corner is calm and
confident, pouring water over her back.
Damage: Dakota — bruised cheek, sore ribs, heavy breathing;
Sydney — slight redness on jaw.
Score: 10-8 Sydney Total 18-18
Round 3:
The bell echoes through the arena, and surprisingly, Dakota
Fanning comes out looking sharp. The earlier knockdown doesn’t
seem to have broken her spirit. With her guard tight and feet
light, she establishes distance and begins working her jab
slipping back and staying just out of range. Fast, clean, and
accurate. Sydney backs away. Takes in a long deep breath then
resets.
Dakota flicks two stiff jabs into Sydney’s face, both landing
cleanly and snapping the blonde’s head back. Sydney blinks, and
suddenly the faint mouse under under her left eye begins to
swell. The crowd reacts with appreciative murmurs—this was not
what they expected. Not what Sydney expected.
For the first thirty seconds, Dakota controls the range. She
steps to her right, peppering Sydney with jabs and the
occasional straight right. It’s not fight-ending power, but it’s
effective and controlled and she is scoring in bunches. Sydney
resets, narrowing her eyes, lets out a feral groan and starts
closing the distance.
Then it shifts.
With a sharp feint, Sydney gets Dakota to freeze just enough to
step inside and dig a brutal left hook to the body. The sound
echoes—a meaty thud against soft flesh. Dakota’s mouth opens in
a silent gasp. She tries to move, but Sydney throws her against
the ropes. A right hook to the ribs. A left to the liver. An
uppercut splits Dakota’s guard and jolts her head back. Now
she’s covering up, leaning back, trying to spin away—but Sydney
is in predator mode.
A left hook crashes under Dakota’s left arm then an uppercut to
the chin sends sweat and spit flying. Her knees buckle, but she
stays up. Sydney drills a right into Dakota’s stomach, forcing a
wheeze from her lungs. Then a left to the temple. A hook to the
body. A cross to the nose. Dakota’s defense quickly begin to
unravel.
Sydney has her pinned in the corner, and with each shot she
throws, Dakota seems to shrink a little more. The crowd roars as
Sydney pours on the pressure—a 5-punch combo: hook to the ribs,
cross to the cheek, uppercut to the solar plexus, jab to the
nose, hook to the right breast. Dakota finally clinches, but
even there, Sydney is punishing. Short rabbit punches to the
ribs. A sneaky uppercut to the chin and a left cross to the
side of the boobs. Laura is screaming foul as he ref steps in to
separate them. Dakota stumbles slightly as they part.
With less than thirty seconds to go, Sydney barrels in again,
throwing punches in bunches. A looping right cross lands flush
and turns Dakota’s head violently. Another uppercut follows, and
for a moment it looks like she might go down again—but somehow,
Dakota holds.
The bell rings, mercifully and Dakota staggers back to her
corner, ribs heaving, face red and puffy. Sydney returns to her
side with a satisfied nod.
Score: 10-8 Sydney Sweeney
Damage: Dakota — swelling eye, bruised ribs, starting to limp
slightly; Sydney — minor swelling jaw – swelling under her left
eye.
Total:28-26 Sydney
Round 4:
The bell rings and there’s fire in Sydney Sweeney’s eyes. She’s
found her rhythm now, and Dakota Fanning knows it. Dakota
emerges from her corner looking unsteady—her body aching and
sore, still heaving for air after the brutal punishment she took
in Round 3. Sydney wastes no time. She launches forward like a
predator, gloves up, chin tucked, feet gliding smoothly as she
cuts off the ring. Dakota tries to stay long, flicking out a
desperate jab, but Sydney parries it with ease.
Then the real punishment begins. A deep, sickening thud echoes
through the arena as Sydney buries a left hook into Dakota’s
ribs, just under her bra line. Dakota gasps, her knees buckling
slightly. She tries to retreat, but Sydney is relentless.
Another hook—this one lower—slams into her right side, folding
her over. Sydney drives a straight right into the pit of
Dakota’s stomach, just above the waistband. It lands flush.
Dakota throws an overhand right but Sydney duck and buries an
uppercut under Dakota's right armpit then drives a hook into her
navel.
THUD.
Air blasts out of Dakota’s lungs. Her mouthpiece flies out like
a cork from a bottle, bouncing across the canvas. Her jaw hangs
open as her hands instinctively cradle her belly, eyes wide with
pain. Sydney backs her into the ropes and leans in, her chin
brushing Dakota’s shoulder, her body weight pinning her there.
Then she starts chugging away—left, right, left, right—fists
pounding the same spot on Dakota’s midsection again and again.
This isn’t boxing. This is pure punishment.
Dakota’s arms drop. Her legs lock. Her body sags.
“Break!” Laura Marano screams from the Aries’ corner, her voice
cracking with desperation. “F&cking Break, dammit!”
The referee finally steps in, eyes scanning Dakota. She isn’t
defending. She’s barely upright. He waves Sydney off and begins
the standing eight count.
1… 2… 3…
Dakota leans heavily on the ropes, arms still wrapped around her
stomach, her breath coming in short, shallow gasps. Sweat drips
from her chin. Her knees threaten to give.
4… 5… 6…
She nods that she wants to continue, but there’s no fire in her
eyes.
7… 8…
The referee gives her a final long look. Dakota raises her
gloves—weakly.
“You good?”
She nods.
“Fight!”
Sydney doesn’t hesitate. She presses Dakota into the ropes again
and unleashes another savage barrage: looping hooks to the ribs,
short uppercuts to the abs, and a crushing left to the liver.
Dakota’s legs buckle. She crashes to the mat, curling into a
fetal position, arms once again wrapped around her midsection.
The referee starts another count.
1… 2… 3…
Laura is screaming from the corner. “Get your ass up! Awesome
Aries NEVER QUIT!”
4… 5… 6…
Dakota remains on her side, her face twisted in agony.
7… 8…
She groans, then plants her gloves on the canvas.
9…
Somehow, she stands. She’s swaying, trembling—but standing. The
crowd explodes with cheers. The referee walks over to the
timekeeper, glancing at Laura, clearly about to wave the fight
off.
“Your girl is done,” he mouths.
“NO SHE’S NOT!” Laura roars, leaping onto the apron. “Give her a
second!”
The delay buys Dakota precious time. Her legs are still shaky,
but there’s a flicker—just a flicker—of fire back in her eyes.
When the referee shouts “FIGHT!” again, she’s ready enough with
her gloves up in a high guard.
But Sydney rushes in too fast, too eager to finish. Dakota
sidesteps and, with pure instinct, drives a tomahawk right into
the back of Sydney’s head as she stumbles past into the ropes.
“FOUL!” the ref screams, leaping between them.
Official Warning: Illegal Blow – Dakota Fanning
Sydney’s face twists in fury. The shot wasn’t devastating, but
it was deliberate—and that made it unforgivable.
“That’s how you want to play it?” she growls.
When they reset, Sydney explodes. A hook smashes into Dakota’s
jaw. She stumbles. A vicious left crashes into her breast,
making her shriek in pain. Then an uppercut snaps her head back,
lifting her off her toes. A straight right follows, tearing open
her nose. Blood sprays from her nostrils, streaking down her
lips, staining her chest.
Dakota is slammed back into the corner. Sydney unloads. Hooks to
the ribs. Crosses to the breasts. Uppercuts to the solar plexus.
Dakota’s body jerks with each hit. Her legs go rubbery. She
slumps deeper into the turnbuckles, almost seated, her body
absorbing every vicious blow.
The referee jumps in.
It’s over.
Dakota’s back slides down the ropes, her body collapsing into a
trembling heap on the mat. Blood seeps from her nose. Her belly
is visibly bruised and heaving. Her limbs twitch. Her face is
vacant.
“That’s it!” the ref says, waving off the fight and pulling
Sydney away.
TKO – Sydney Sweeney – 2:41 of Round 4
Laura Marano dives into the ring, lifting Dakota to her feet.
“You’re okay,” she whispers, holding her close. Laura turns,
furious, and storms toward the official. “You stopped it too
early! She had more fight in her! She wasn’t done!”
But Dakota’s legs give out again, and she crumples. Medics and
the ref rush in. As Laura rages, Dakota lies on her back, arms
draped over her aching belly, eyes fixed on the lights above.
The crowd erupts as Sydney climbs the ropes, arms raised, her
glistening body bathed in sweat and triumph.
Summary:
Sydney’s superior boxing skill and power dominated from the
start. Dakota showed courage but was overwhelmed by Sydney’s
accurate, heavy punches, resulting in four knockdowns that
forced an early stoppage. Sydney’s crisp combinations and
relentless body attacks broke down Dakota quickly.
Badass Barbies Locker Room – Post-Fight
Reporter: Sydney, congratulations. That was one of the most
convincing turnarounds we’ve seen in a long time. You were
knocked down in Round 1 but came back to dominate. How did you
pull yourself together?
Sydney: (smirks) You don’t stay down just because you get
caught. Dakota landed a clean shot, no doubt. I was too eager,
leaned in too far, and she took her chance. Props to her for
that. But that’s not enough to stop me. I’ve trained for real
damage. The second I hit the canvas, my brain clicked back on. I
remembered who I am. And she paid the price the next three
rounds.
Reporter: A lot of fans forgot that you played Christy Martin in
that biopic, but tonight felt like we were watching the real
thing. Did that role change the way you fight?
Sydney: Oh, it did more than change it—it defined it. Christy
Martin fought like she had something to prove every time she
stepped in the ring. That energy, that grit? I studied it, lived
it, became it. That wasn’t acting. That was me transforming. The
movie taught me how to stay composed under pressure and hit with
intent. I’m not some Hollywood chick throwing pretend punches. I
know how to break down a fighter now—mentally, physically, and
piece by piece. Just like I did to Dakota.
Reporter: Speaking of breakdowns—those body shots were brutal.
Did you know she was done when you started digging into her
midsection in Round 4?
Sydney: The moment I landed that liver shot, yeah. She bent over
like someone pulled her spine out. From that point on, it was
just about forcing the stoppage. I didn’t need to knock her out
cold. I wanted her to feel every single punch. Make her question
whether she ever belonged in the ring with me in the first
place.
Reporter: Let’s talk about Laura Marano. She was in Dakota’s
corner tonight, screaming for the ref to let the fight continue.
What’s your take on her?
Sydney: (laughs) Laura? She's loud. She’s dramatic. And she’s
delusional if she thought Dakota was coming back from that
beating. I get it—she’s loyal to her stable and the girls is too
stupid to quit. But screaming from the apron won’t save someone
from a body beating like that. Nobody around here really likes
Laura. She stirs the pot, throws tantrums, and acts like she’s
above the rest of us. It’s pathetic if you ask me.
Reporter: Would you fight Laura?
Sydney: Hell yes, I’d fight her. I’d love to. And I’m very
confident I’d put her down faster than I did Dakota. She runs
her mouth, but I’ve seen her fights. She’s never gives in – I'll
give her that but she has her weaknesses. She flails when she’s
pressured. She wouldn’t last two rounds with me. Not unless the
ref steps in and throws her a life preserver. If you ask her I
think that Laura knows it.
Reporter: That comment will definitely get a reaction from her.
Sydney: Good. Let her come at me. She wanted attention, right?
Well, here it is. Laura Marano—step into my ring. But be ready
to eat every word you’ve ever said about my stable. I won’t just
beat her—I’ll humiliate her.
Reporter: Switching gears—your name’s now being mentioned in the
same breath as Katharine McPhee. That’s a whole different kind
of fight. Is that one you’re ready for?
Sydney: Katharine is a problem. She’s strong, experienced, and
she’s beaten some real heavy hitters. Am I ready? I don’t know.
But I want it. I want to test myself against the best. She’s the
benchmark. If I’m going to keep climbing, I’ve got to go through
her eventually. And when that day comes, I’ll be sharper,
smarter, and stronger than I was tonight. Believe that.
Reporter: So let’s get this straight—Sydney Sweeney is calling
out Laura Marano and eyeing Katharine McPhee?
Sydney: Absolutely. I’ve already handled Dakota. Laura’s just
noise—I’ll shut her up if she wants to step up. And Katharine?
She’s the mountain I want to climb. Because once I beat her, no
one will question where I stand in this division.
Reporter: Final thoughts?
Sydney: Just this—tonight wasn’t luck. It wasn’t a fluke. It was
earned. Anyone who steps in there with me from now on better
know what they’re signing up for. I’m not here to play nice. I’m
here to end careers.
Reporter: Sydney Sweeney, victorious by TKO in Round 4. Loud.
Clear. And calling names.
Sydney: (winks) Print that. I want Laura to see it first thing
tomorrow morning.
Awesome Aries Locker Room – Post-Fight
The energy in the room is low, the silence thick. Dakota Fanning
sits on a bench, slouched forward, her arms resting on her
knees, a towel draped loosely around her neck. Her cheeks are
puffed, her nose is still bleeding slightly, and there's a heavy
bruise already blooming along her ribs and abs. Every breath she
takes is shallow, painful. Her body is battered, but it’s the
weight on her shoulders that seems heavier than anything else.
A medic quietly checks her blood pressure while Laura Marano
paces like a caged animal just a few feet away, her eyes burning
with frustration.
Reporter: Dakota, first of all, are you okay? That was… a brutal
four rounds.
Dakota: (softly) I don’t know. I mean… I’ll live. It hurts to
breathe. My ribs feel like they’re filled with broken glass. But
yeah, I think I’ll be okay. Eventually.
Reporter: Sydney landed well over 150 punches on you—body, head,
chest, everything. Did it feel like she was just overwhelming
you?
Dakota: Yeah… I mean, from the second round on, I felt like I
was drowning. I’d land a couple jabs and think, okay, I’ve got
this, and then bam—she’d be in my body, just drilling me. She
didn’t give me any space to think. It was like being in
quicksand. Every time I moved, I sank deeper.
Reporter: You dropped her in Round 1, though. That was a clean
shot. Did you think she was out?
Dakota: (nods slowly) For a second? Yeah. Her eyes went blank
and I thought lights out for Sweeney. She hit the mat hard. I
thought, This is my moment. But she got up fast. Too fast. And
after that, she was... different. Like I’d woken something up in
her. She wasn’t just boxing after that—she was hunting me.
Reporter: Looking back… do you think you were prepared?
Dakota: (sighs) Maybe not. Maybe I should’ve trained more. Spent
more time sparring. I don’t know. Sydney had this energy—like
she knew she was going to beat me. She didn’t just want to win.
She wanted to humiliate me and send a message to my stable.
And for the last two rounds, she kind of did.
Reporter: Laura, you were screaming at the ref. Do you think the
stoppage came too soon?
Laura Marano: (whips around) Too soon? Are you kidding? Dakota
was still standing. She took everything Sydney threw and she
stood. Yeah, she went down, but she got up. She looked the ref
in the eye. She raised her gloves. She wanted to fight. That
fight should have gone to Round 5.
Reporter: Sydney had some pretty harsh words after the fight…
Dakota: (frowns) What kind of words?
Laura: (coldly) Let me guess, she called you soft. Said you
didn’t belong in the same ring as her.
Dakota: (winces) Figures.
Laura: Did she have anything to say about me, too.
Reporter: (shrugs, trying to look casual) You’ll find out in the
morning.
Laura: (sits up straighter) Tell me now, what did that
over-inflated **** say?
Reporter: (snaps) She said she’d whoop my ass. That your're all
talk. That you wouldn’t last two rounds with her.
Laura: (takes a step toward the door) And I swear, I'm two
seconds away from walking down that hallway and planting my fist
in her mouth.
Reporter: Laura—do you think that fight might actually happen?
Laura: If Sydney keeps running her mouth? Oh, it's happening. I
don’t care what promotion wants it. I don’t care where it is.
She wants to see what a real fighter looks like? I’ll show her.
Reporter: Dakota… do you think what Laura said is true? That you
could’ve made it to the fifth round?
Dakota: (quietly) I think so. I wasn’t done. My body was
wrecked, yeah—but I wasn’t mentally out. I still believed I
could land something again. One more round, maybe I could’ve
slowed her down. Maybe not won… but survived.
Laura: (nods fiercely) We’re Aries. We don’t quit. You hear me?
Dakota: (manages a faint smile) Right. We don’t quit.
Reporter: If you could do it again—would you change anything?
Dakota: I wouldn’t let her walk me down so easily. I’d stay off
the ropes. I let her bully me, and I gave her my body. That’s on
me. I’d fight smarter. Train harder. She hurt me in a way I
didn’t expect—but I’ve learned now.
Reporter: Laura, if you do get in the ring with Sydney, what
happens?
Laura: I shut her up. I beat her to the body, slow her legs
down, and then I pick her apart. She thinks she’s some queen
because she mauled Dakota while she was already hurt? Let her
try that on me. I’ll knock that smug look off her face and
flatten those annoying **** she flashes in everybody's face. The
second she gets punched by someone who doesn’t break? She’s in
for a very rude awakening.
The air thickens in the locker room as Laura storms off toward
the back, her fists clenched, eyes glowing with fury. Dakota
leans her head back against the wall, eyes closed, still
aching—but her spirit a little more intact. The fire that
defines the Awesome Aries may have flickered—but it’s far from
out.
And somewhere down the hallway, Sydney Sweeney is still
celebrating.
But she won’t be alone in that spotlight for long.
Written bu The Badass Barbies
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