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Fght 18 Main Event - Debby Ryan vs Scarlett Johansson
DIR By: BadAssBunnies
Date: July 15, 2025, 12:50 am
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Sin City Slugfest VI
Main Event - Blind Fold Match - 18
Debby Ryan vs Scarlett Johansson
HTML https://i.imgur.com/7hLLfCm.png
Debby Ryan
Age: 30 (born May 13, 1993)
Height: 5'5" (165 cm)
Weight: 125 lbs (57 kg)
Reach: 66" (168 cm)
Background: Best known as an actress and singer, Debby Ryan is
also a dedicated and surprisingly skilled boxer. What began as
fitness training quickly evolved into a passion—so much so that
she had a professional-grade boxing ring installed in her home
basement. She trains daily, working with experienced coaches and
sparring regularly. Her dance background adds to her fluid
footwork and coordination, making her a fast, elusive opponent
with excellent rhythm and timing.
Style: A high-volume, technical striker who relies on footwork,
angles, and speed. Debby likes to wear opponents down with jabs
and combos while slipping counters with graceful movement. She’s
not just athletic—she’s developed real ring IQ.
Scarlett Johansson
Age: 40 (born November 22, 1984)
Height: 5'3" (160 cm)
Weight: 130 lbs (59 kg)
Reach: 65" (165 cm)
Background: A Hollywood powerhouse, Scarlett Johansson has spent
over a decade in physically demanding roles, especially in
action-packed films. Her martial arts and stunt training have
made her strong, balanced, and durable under pressure. She’s
used to executing combat choreography but has also trained in
real-world fight technique, including boxing and grappling.
Style: Aggressive and durable. Scarlett uses a tight,
pressure-heavy approach with compact power punches and gritty
inside work. She’s tough and relentless, looking to overwhelm
opponents with strength and tenacity.
Pre-Fight Odds & Analysis
Odds: Scarlett Johansson (-150) vs. Debby Ryan (+120)
Analysis: On paper, Scarlett brings the edge in raw strength,
toughness, and combat experience from her film training. But
Debby’s disciplined boxing regimen, daily sparring, and
high-level cardio give her a serious chance to outclass Scarlett
technically. Scarlett’s power is dangerous, but Debby’s movement
and precision could be the difference-maker. This one's closer
than the odds suggest.
Dzbby Ryan vs. Scarlett Johansson
10-Round Women's Celebrity Boxing Match
Venue: MGM Grand, Las Vegas
Backstage, Debby Ryan sat quietly, blindfold already tied tight
across her eyes. She bounced lightly on her toes, fists clenched
and heart racing.
“No idea who it is…” she muttered to herself, sucking in a
breath. “Just another actress who thinks she’s tougher than she
is. Whoever it is—she’s going down.”</blockquote></blockquote> A
crew member touched her shoulder. It was time.
With gloved hands stretched out, Debby was led down the hall and
through the roaring tunnel of the MGM Grand. The roar of the
crowd thundered around her. She smiled. She fed off it.
On the opposite side of the arena, Scarlett Johansson stood,
arms folded, already blindfolded and still as stone.
“This better not be a cupcake,” she growled. “I didn’t train for
weeks to slap around a rookie.”</blockquote>
She walked through the curtain and could feel the heat from the
overhead lights. She **** her neck and rolled her shoulders.
This was war. Whoever stood across from her—famous or not—was
getting the full storm.
Inside the ring, both women were guided to center, barely a foot
apart, blindfolds still on. The referee gave final instructions,
then counted down:
“Three… two… one… REMOVE!”
Debby whipped off her blindfold. Her jaw clenched the moment her
eyes locked on Scarlett.
“You’ve got to be kidding,” Debby hissed. Johansson.
Scarlett’s brows lifted, then her mouth curled into a predatory
grin.
“You?” she chuckled darkly. “Hope you brought a padded bra.”
Debby didn’t flinch. “I’m not on Netflix anymore, Scarlett.
Tonight? You get the real me.”
Scarlett turned, smirking over her shoulder.
“Then get ready to go home bruised, Disney.”
As they returned to their corners, the crowd was electric. The
war was about to begin.
Round 1:
The bell rang, and the blindfolds were off. The moment Scarlett
Johansson saw Debby Ryan across from her, a fire lit in her
eyes. The veteran didn’t waste a second. She stormed forward
like a tank, crouched low, fists tight, using her stockier, more
muscular frame to establish control. Debby tried to circle,
bouncing on her toes and flicking out probing jabs, but Scarlett
smothered her space with ruthless intent.
Scarlett cut off the ring with expert footwork, closing the
distance and digging a stiff jab right between Debby’s eyes. The
punch snapped Debby’s head back and drew a gasp from the crowd.
Debby pivoted, trying to create space, but Scarlett stayed in
her face, relentless and compact. Another jab landed, this time
followed by a punishing right hook that thudded deep into
Debby’s ribs.
Debby winced, shuffled back, and fired a quick left-right combo
that grazed Scarlett’s cheek, showing flashes of her speed and
timing. But Scarlett barely flinched. She absorbed the shots and
bulldozed forward, backing Debby into the ropes. There, she
unleashed a barrage—short hooks to the body, a sharp uppercut
that grazed Debby’s chin, and a final thumping blow to the chest
that forced Debby to clinch.
The referee separated them, but the momentum was already firmly
in Scarlett’s hands. Every exchange favored the older
fighter—she imposed her will, landed the heavier punches, and
made it impossible for Debby to get into rhythm. Debby looked
composed, but even she knew this round had slipped away from
her.
As the bell rang, Scarlett strutted back to her corner, nodding
to the crowd with a tight smirk. She didn’t just win the
round—she sent a message. Her pressure, her power, and her
presence were undeniable.
Score: 10-9 Johansson
Scarlett leaves no doubt—she’s here to dominate.
Round 2:
Scarlett came out pressing again, determined to pick up where
she left off. She barreled forward with confidence, tossing
stiff jabs and looking to trap Debby against the ropes once
more. For the first thirty seconds, it looked like a repeat of
the first round—Scarlett crowding Debby, closing the distance,
and tossing heavy punches to the body.
But then everything changed. Debby Ryan found her rhythm.
Pivoting off the ropes, she reset her feet and started snapping
her jab—fast, sharp, and accurate. The first one landed cleanly
on Scarlett’s nose. Then another. And another. Scarlett blinked,
surprised by the sudden change in pace, and before she could
adjust, Debby stepped back and drilled a counter right into her
ribs that forced a grunt from the veteran.
Debby circled out wide, owning the center of the ring now. With
her jab as the spearhead, she began dictating every exchange.
Scarlett lunged in again—and paid the price. A crisp double jab
split her guard, followed by a right hand to the cheek. Debby’s
footwork was smooth and controlled; she danced just out of
reach, then popped Scarlett with quick combinations before
slipping away untouched.
By the midway point of the round, Debby had turned the tide
completely. Scarlett became visibly frustrated, swinging wide
and missing. Every time she overcommitted, Debby punished her
with body shots and counters that landed cleanly. The younger
fighter was in total control, bouncing on her toes, eyes
focused, breathing steady. The crowd roared as she landed a
beautiful three-punch combo late—a jab, a straight right, and a
left hook that snapped Scarlett’s head sideways.
The final thirty seconds saw Debby toy with Scarlett at range,
peppering her with jabs and light combos while avoiding damage
entirely. When the bell rang, it wasn’t close. Debby Ryan had
made a statement.
Score: 10-9 Ryan
Running Total: Ryan 19 | Johansson 19
Round 3:
Scarlett Johansson returned to her corner after a frustrating
second round, where Debby Ryan’s speed and footwork had made her
look a step behind. Her trainer was in her ear immediately—firm,
loud, and blunt.
“Keep your damn hands up. Cut off the ring and finish your
combos. You let her take that round—don’t let her take your
momentum.”
Scarlett nodded, silent and steely. The bell rang, and the
difference was immediate. She came out with her guard high and
tight, head moving just enough to slip Debby’s probing jab.
Rather than rushing in recklessly, she stayed compact, stepping
forward with calculated pressure. A quick feint opened a lane,
and Scarlett drove a thudding left hook deep into Debby’s
breaasts. The shot landed flush, and Debby winced, her movement
stuttering just for a moment.
Scarlett pressed the advantage, backing Debby up with short,
deliberate punches—another hook to the body, then a tight
uppercut to the belly. Debby clinched to slow the charge, trying
to reset, but Scarlett wrestled free and shoved her toward the
ropes.
Debby responded with speed, landing a sharp right hand and
dancing away. The exchanges became fast and razor-close—Debby
popping her jab and sliding to the side, Scarlett stepping in
and working the body. Both women had moments, but it was
Scarlett who kept finishing the combinations. She’d absorb a
quick one-two, then land a heavy third shot to the ribs or hip.
Midway through the round, Scarlett pinned Debby briefly in the
corner and unleashed a wicked combo—left to the stomach, right
hook up top, and a final punch that smacked Debby across the
breasts. The crowd groaned as Debby clinched again, clearly
rattled. Scarlett’s face showed no emotion—just laser focus.
Debby stayed game, bouncing and firing back late, but Scarlett’s
punches carried more weight and authority. She was the aggressor
again, and this time, she finished her work.
Score: 10-9 Johansson
Running Total: Ryan 28 | Johansson 29
Round 4:
As Debby Ryan returned to her corner, her corner team quickly
went to work. Her top had been knocked partially askew by a
vicious uppercut in the last round, and her chest bore red
blotches from Scarlett’s brutal targeting. Debby winced as her
coach adjusted her gear, tucking her back in and icing her ribs.
“She wants to make this dirty?” Debby muttered, her eyes
narrowing. “Fine. Let’s play.”
The bell rang—and a different Debby emerged.
Scarlett came out confident, firing a double jab square to
Debby’s chest again, followed by a cruel uppercut that popped
Debby’s left breast out of her top for the second time.
“Now that’s better,” Scarlett smirked.
But Debby didn’t flinch. Her corner was ready. In seconds, they
tucked her top back in during the ref’s pause—and what returned
to the center was no longer the light-footed dancer. It was a
woman furious, focused, and fully locked in. Debby went on the
attack.
Her jab became a piston—snapping out over and over, peppering
Scarlett’s face with precision. Scarlett tried to push forward,
but Debby met her with stiff resistance. A lightning-quick combo
nailed Scarlett in the cheek, followed by a digging body shot
that made her stumble back. Debby began bullying her.
She drove Scarlett across the ring with sheer
aggression—shouldering into her, pinning her with sharp hooks,
and not letting her breathe. The crowd roared as Debby turned
into a machine, out-landing Scarlett 3-to-1, hammering her with
jabs, straights, and looping hooks.
Scarlett’s guard broke late, and Debby took full advantage. In
the final seconds, she crouched low and unleashed a brutal
uppercut that rocketed into Scarlett’s chest—just missing the
neckline of her top. Scarlett gasped, stumbling back, nearly
suffering the same wardrobe fate she’d dealt out earlier. Debby
circled out calmly, in full command.
Score: 10-9 Ryan (almost 10-8)
Running Total: Ryan 38 | Johansson 38
Round 5:
The crowd at the MGM Grand was on its feet, the atmosphere
electric as both women met in the center of the ring for Round
5. Debby Ryan looked locked in, her eyes burning with
determination after her dominant fourth round. But Scarlett
Johansson, ever the veteran, wasn’t about to let the younger
fighter run away with it.
From the bell, both women fired combinations, neither backing
down. Debby landed a stiff jab to the mouth followed by a quick
left hook to the ribs. Scarlett grunted and fired right back—two
jabs up top, then a sneaky right uppercut that caught Debby
square in the underside of her left breast. Debby gasped and
staggered back a step, her face flushing with fury.
“That all you’ve got?” Scarlett sneered, already pressing
forward.</blockquote> </blockquote> Debby came back with a
flurry—three quick punches to the face that snapped Scarlett’s
head back, then a low shot to the ribs. But Scarlett answered
with another tight uppercut, this one catching Debby again on
the chest, just under the right cup. It wasn’t powerful—but it
was humiliating, and Debby’s reaction showed it.
The round turned into a wild back-and-forth, each woman landing
hard, punishing shots to the body and head. Debby backed
Scarlett up with a jab-cross-hook combo, but Scarlett pivoted
out of danger and landed a sharp right to the belly followed by
another sneaky breast uppercut in the clinch. Debby groaned
under the crushing blow.
Debby shoved Scarlett at the break, jaw clenched, eyes narrowed.
She was incensed, shouting something unintelligible over the
roar of the crowd. Scarlett just smirked, her face flushed but
confident. The final moments were frantic, both fighters
swinging heavy, landing shots on arms, bellies, chests, and
shoulders. But it was Scarlett who landed the final, clean right
hand to the jaw that stole the round.
Score: 10-9 Johansson
Running Total: Ryan 47 | Johansson 48
Round 6:
By now, the wear and tear was showing on both women, but Debby
Ryan looked fresher, sharper, and far more composed. Scarlett
Johansson, breathing heavily between rounds, was slow getting
off her stool. Her corner iced her ribs and dabbed at her
swelling left eye. Meanwhile, Debby stood in her corner,
bouncing on her toes, gloves already up and ready.
From the bell, Debby made her intentions clear—she was going to
the body, and she wasn’t letting up. She surged forward with
controlled aggression, peppering Scarlett with quick 1-2s to the
stomach and ribs. Her gloves thudded into Scarlett’s softening
core again and again, each punch drawing a grunt or gasp.
Scarlett tried to jab her way out of trouble, but her legs were
slower now. Her guard, once tight, began to drop—leaving her
midsection exposed. Debby exploited every opening.
A digging left hook to the liver bent Scarlett forward; a right
cross to the belly button snapped her upright again. Debby
followed with a crushing shot under the left breast, making
Scarlett stumble into a clinch, gasping. The referee broke them,
but Scarlett looked dazed, her chest and torso now bright pink
from the cumulative punishment.
Debby circled like a predator, calm and focused. She pounded
away—right-left to the ribs, double jab to the belly, then a
hammering uppercut that grazed the bottom of Scarlett’s right
breast. Scarlett’s hands dropped, her body wilting under the
sustained assault. The crowd could see it—Scarlett’s mouth was
open, gasping for air, her face drenched in sweat. Her punches
were sluggish now, thrown more out of instinct than intent
Debby never let up. She owned every second of the round, beating
the fight—and the stamina—out of Scarlett with clinical,
exhausting body work. By the time the bell rang, Scarlett’s legs
gave out beneath her as she collapsed onto her stool, her body
visibly trembling, breath coming in ragged gasps.
Score: 10-9 Ryan (borderline 10-8)
Running Total: Ryan 57 | Johansson 57
Round 7:
After absorbing a round of sheer punishment, Scarlett Johansson
came out for Round 7 with a bruised torso and a swelling eye—but
a look in her face that screamed: not done yet b!tch. The
veteran had taken enough to know Debby Ryan was feeling
confident—maybe too confident. And Scarlett was about to use
that against her.
She baited Debby in early, letting the younger fighter score a
few more body shots. Debby obliged, pounding Scarlett’s ribs and
belly with sharp, thumping hooks. The crowd roared, thinking
another dominant round was beginning. But Scarlett wasn’t just
covering—she was setting a trap.
They clinched mid-ring, both women tangled, breathing hard.
Scarlett whispered something no one could hear… then suddenly
leaned forward, bumping Debby hard enough to knock her off
balance. Debby’s footing slipped, her arms slightly out of
position—and that’s when Scarlett struck like a viper.
Two thunderous hooks slammed into Debby’s liver—WHAP-WHAP!
Debby’s eyes went wide. Her body froze.
Then came the rest—an uppercut that smashed her left breast, a
vicious hook to the pit of her stomach, and finally, a
devastating uppercut straight to the chin that cut her strings
like a puppet. Debby’s mouthpiece flew, her knees buckled—her
left leg gave out first—and she twisted, spinning into a
crumpled heap on the canvas, stunned and folded awkwardly on
herself.
Scarlett backed off, smirking. Debby was gobsmacked—trying to
rise, but her legs were tangled under her.
The ref thundered:
“ONE!” “TWO!” “THREE!”
Debby pawed at the mat.
“FOUR!” “FIVE!”
She rolled to her knees, gasping.
“SIX!” “SEVEN!”
She crawled to the ropes.
“EIGHT!” “NINE!”
Debby yanked herself up by the ropes, legs trembling, arms
shaking.
“TEN—WAIT!” The ref stopped the count just in time—she was up!
The fight continued—but now Scarlett was hunting. Debby hung on,
clinched, blocked, dodged—but then—something shifted. With
thirty seconds left, her legs came back. She planted her feet
and started digging into Scarlett’s gut with furious hooks. Left
to the ribs. Right to the belly. A brutal uppercut grazed
Scarlett’s chest and she moaned, visibly wilting. Her body was
screaming.
Debby didn’t win the round—but she reminded everyone she wasn’t
done.
Score: 10-8 Johansson
Running Total: Ryan 65 | Johansson 67
Round 8:
By Round 8, the roles had reversed completely. Scarlett
Johansson—the battle-hardened action star with all the
experience and toughness in the world—was now the one gasping
for air, her chest heaving, legs heavy. And Debby Ryan was the
one walking her down.
Debby came out of her corner like a machine—calm, focused, and
relentless. She didn’t go headhunting. She didn’t try to get
flashy. She went right back to the game plan that had been
bleeding Scarlett dry: the body.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Her gloves pounded into Scarlett’s sides, stomach, and ribs ,
and breasts like pistons. A left hook to the ribs bent Scarlett
over, and Debby snapped a right uppercut into her belly that
made her grunt, nearly doubling her over. Scarlett clinched,
wrapping her arms around Debby’s shoulders and leaning all her
weight onto the younger fighter—stalling, surviving, dragging
the round out second by second.
But Debby wasn’t discouraged. She kept at it. Her cardio
showed—bouncing on her toes, working short punches inside,
breaking free from clinches and digging her gloves right back
into Scarlett’s breaking body. The older woman’s guard started
to slip. Debby saw it—and shifted gears.
A stiff jab landed directly on Scarlett’s swollen left eye, then
another, then a straight right. Scarlett winced, her legs
buckling slightly. The eye was nearly shut, forcing Scarlett
into a desperate southpaw stance to shield it. But that only
opened up more targets—and Debby took full advantage, ripping
more shots to Scarlett’s ribs and side, making the veteran
wheeze and retreat. The crowd roared as Debby drove Scarlett
into the ropes with a five-punch flurry, all to the body.
Scarlett’s moans were audible. She was breaking down by the
second, just barely holding on.
Then, at the final bell—just as the ref moved to separate
them—Scarlett got one last dirty trick in. From the clinch, she
drove her elbow sharply across Debby’s chest, the point landing
squarely into the soft underside of Debby’s left breast. Debby
cried out, stumbling back, clutching her chest in shock as the
crowd booed. The ref warned Scarlett, but the damage was done.
Score: 10-9 Ryan
Running Total: Ryan 75 | Johansson 76
Round 9:
Debby Ryan came off her stool like a woman possessed. Still
fuming from the cheap elbow Scarlett had buried into her breast
at the end of the last round, Debby wasn’t interested in jabs or
footwork anymore—she wanted to punish. And she went straight for
the rack.
In the opening twenty seconds, Debby launched into an
unrelenting assault. A savage hook slammed into the side of
Scarlett’s right breast—THWACK!—followed by a brutal jab that
flattened her left one, forcing a yelp from the battered action
star. Debby ripped an uppercut into the underside of Scarlett’s
chest, then another—each one drawing louder grunts and groans.
The crowd was electric as Debby pounded Scarlett’s body like a
heavy bag.
Backpedaling just long enough to reset her footing, Debby then
bulldozed Scarlett into the corner. She lowered her stance,
bobbing and weaving under Scarlett’s weak arm swipes, then went
to work—digging into the belly, ribs, and flanks with cruel
precision. Scarlett was hunched forward, arms glued to her body,
elbows tucked in desperately to shield her core. Her gloves were
up around her bruised face, leaving her frozen in a shell.
“Fight back!” the referee barked. “Scarlett, fight back!” She
didn’t—she couldn’t.
The ref stepped in and administered a standing eight count,
giving Scarlett a precious lifeline.
“FIGHT!”
Scarlett nodded, lips bloodied and body trembling, and slid
sideways trying to escape—but Debby cut off the ring and shoved
her into the ropes. From there, it was a body beatdown of the
highest order. Scarlett clinched. Debby broke free and hammered
her ribs. Scarlett clinched again. Another break—more body
shots. Hooks to the side. Crosses to the solar plexus. Lefts to
the liver. Rights into the sternum. Uppercuts to the breasts. It
was vicious, efficient punishment, and Scarlett was absorbing
every ounce of it with nowhere to go.
By the final bell, Debby stood tall, raising her arm with fire
in her eyes. Scarlett couldn’t raise hers—her arms hung limp at
her sides, her body a wrecked, quivering mess barely able to
make it back to the stool.
Score: 10-8 Ryan
Running Total: Ryan 85 | Johansson 84
Round 10;
Both corners knew what was at stake. Debby Ryan was likely
ahead—but not by much. Scarlett Johansson’s face was swollen,
her body bruised and crumbling under the punishment, but the
look in her eye said it all: She wasn’t done.
The bell rang and.Scarlett sprang into action, surprising
everyone with a sudden burst of movement. She played possum
again, retreating just enough to bait Debby forward—and Debby,
full of adrenaline, took the bait. She stepped into range,
trying to rip a right to the body—BAM!
An uppercut exploded through her guard. Debby’s head snapped
violently back, sweat flying from her hair as her legs gave way,
her body slumping into the ropes. The crowd gasped. Scarlett
pounced, throwing everything she had left—short hooks,
uppercuts, overhands—but her body had nothing left in the tank.
The punches landed, but the power was gone.
Debby absorbed them, covering up and clinching. Scarlett’s
breathing became ragged; she backed off, hunched forward with
her gloves resting on her knees, chest heaving. Across the ring,
Debby’s backside sagged heavily on the second rope, arms limp
over the top strand. Both women looked spent.
“Come on, ladies—FIGHT!” the ref barked. For a moment, neither
moved. Then, with a grunt, Debby forced herself off the ropes.
Scarlett straightened, her legs barely holding, but still
standing.
The ref waved them in. Scarlett cocked her right fist and threw
a wild, desperate overhand—her last haymaker. Debby saw it
coming at the last second and leaned back. The punch missed by
inches, and Scarlett stumbled past her, nearly falling. When she
turned around—Debby was waiting.
A left hook buried itself into Scarlett’s belly. Her knees
wobbled. She winced, mouth open in pain. Her gloves drooped. The
final minute became a savage assault—Debby hammering her
midsection, ripping uppercuts to her chest, and snapping jabs to
her now-exposed, battered face. Scarlett clinched whenever she
could, hanging on with sheer grit.
The bell rang. Debby raised her hands in exhausted triumph—then
dropped to her knees, completely spent. Scarlett wobbled, arms
at her sides, legs trembling—but still standing.
Scene: Center ring at the MGM Grand, moments after the bell of
Round 10. Both fighters are pulled to the middle, flanked by
their corners. The referee stands between them, holding each
woman's wrist, waiting for the official decision.
Debby Ryan stands tall—her face bruised, her nose still
trickling blood—but she’s upright, alert, and breathing
steadily. She shifts from foot to foot, biting her lower lip,
arms tense and ready.
Scarlett Johansson, in stark contrast, looks like she’s been hit
by a freight train. Her swollen left eye is nearly shut, her
ribs wrapped tightly by her corner during the final seconds. She
leans slightly forward, her gloves resting on her thighs,
gasping in shallow, pained breaths. Her entire body is pink and
blotched from the relentless body assault.
The ref glances toward the officials. No delay. The scores are
already tallied. He turns and gives a nod to the ring announcer,
who steps to the center with the card in hand.
ANNOUNCER: “Ladies and gentlemen… after ten grueling rounds of
intense action, we go to the judges’ scorecards. All three
judges score the bout… 95 to 93… for your winner by unanimous
decision…”
“DEBBY RYAN!”
The crowd erupts.
Debby’s eyes widen—then she jumps up and down, fists raised high
in exhausted joy.
Scarlett doesn’t move. Her mouth is slightly open, eyebrows
scrunched in disbelief. She turns to the ref, blinking through
her good eye.
“What?” Debby asks, laughing in shock as if she didn’t quite
believe it herself.
Scarlett shakes her head slowly. “You know… you know,” she
mutters under her breath.
Still semi-hunched over, she steps back, pulling away from the
center. One hand clutches her side, the other wipes blood from
her lip. The ref reaches for her, but she shrugs him off. And
with no fanfare, Scarlett exits the ring—alone—while Debby
climbs a corner post, arms raised, soaking in the roar of
victory.
Winner by Unanimous Decision: Debby Ryan (95-93 on all cards)
Scene: Debby Ryan’s locker room, minutes after her unanimous
decision win over Scarlett Johansson. Her face is bruised, her
ribs wrapped in ice, and her top loosely hanging from a shoulder
as she sits slumped on the bench, sipping water. The crowd
outside is still buzzing. Erin Andrews kneels down beside her
with a recorder.
ERIN: Debby… congratulations. That was a war. How are you
feeling?
DEBBY:(laughs tiredly) Like I got hit by a bus. But a really...
slow-moving, relentless, Scarlett Johansson-shaped bus.
ERIN: You've been in some tough fights, but this was next-level.
Did you expect it to get that brutal?
DEBBY: Honestly? I expected hard—but not that. Scarlett and I
were teammates for years and we used to throw down during
training. I know how good she is and I know that Scarlett’s a
legend for a reason. She's tough as nails and fights like she’s
got something to prove. She caught me clean more than I care to
admit. That uppercut in the tenth? Thought my soul left my body
for a second.
ERIN: She nearly had you down again, but you rallied in that
final minute. Where does that come from?
DEBBY:(pauses, breathing heavily) My basement.
ERIN: Your...?
DEBBY: I’ve got a full-size boxing ring in my basement. I train
every day. Not just cardio or a few drills—real rounds, real
sparring. I take this seriously. So when my legs went jelly and
my chest felt like it’d been run over, I just told myself:
You’ve done worse at home. Now finish the damn fight.
ERIN: There was a point where you were really targeting her
body, especially in rounds 6 through 9. Was that the plan going
in?
DEBBY: Absolutely. I knew I didn’t have her power, but I had the
lungs. She’s experienced and durable, but you can’t fight when
you can’t breathe. I just kept digging to the ribs, liver,
sternum… yeah, even the boobs. It worked. She clinched because
she had to, not because she wanted to.
ERIN: At the end of round 8, she caught you with that
elbow—looked like it hurt.
DEBBY:(touches her bruised left breast and winces) Yeah. That
was dirty, no way around it. It lit a fire in me. That next
round, I let her feel what legal payback looked like. And I
don’t think she liked it.
ERIN: She never went down, though.
DEBBY: And that’s what makes her dangerous. I threw everything I
had in that last minute. Her body was folding, her hands were
barely up… but she wouldn’t drop. Mad respect for that.
ERIN: Final thoughts? What does this win mean to you?
DEBBY: It means I’m not just some actress putting on gloves for
fun. I earned that win. I outlasted a legend. And I’ve got a
hell of a lot more to prove.
ERIN: Thanks, Debby. Rest up—you’ve earned it.
DEBBY:(grinning despite the bruises) I’ll rest when I stop
hearing her grunts echoing in my ears. God, she hits like a
freight train.
Scene: Scarlett Johansson’s locker room. The atmosphere is
heavy. Ice packs are taped to her ribs and across her left eye,
which is nearly swollen shut. A trainer helps unlace her gloves
as a ERIN cautiously steps forward.
ERIN: Scarlett… can we get a few words?
SCARLETT:(sighs, eyes narrowed) Sure. Why not? Let’s talk about
how I just got robbed in front of thousands of people.
ERIN: You feel the decision was unfair?
SCARLETT: Unfair? Please. I won that fight. But when you're up
against someone from Disney, you're not just fighting the girl
in front of you. You're fighting the crowd, the cameras, the
narrative. Everybody wants to see the sweet, underdog “princess”
win. Judges eat that sh!t up in big mouthfuls.
ERIN: But Debby out-landed you by 45 punches. She doubled your
body shots in the last four rounds and left your midsection a
mess.
SCARLETT:(irritated) Yeah? But did she knock me down?
ERIN: No… but she had you reeling more than once. And—
SCARLETT:I knocked her down. Officially. Her legs buckled, she
folded into a heap, and I had her on the ropes. A couple of
those other moments? Should’ve been standing eights. What about
when she just sagged into the corner and couldn’t throw back? Or
when I stunned her with that uppercut in the tenth? If roles
were reversed, I guarantee the ref jumps in, give her an 8 or
waves off the fight. But nooooooo, not for Debby. Not for
America’s sweetheart.
ERIN: For clarity—Debby had the only standing eight count. That
was after she backed you into the corner and you didn’t respond.
SCARLETT:(waves it off) Whatever. Was it a knock down? Was it?
No it wasn't! I won, and I know it. The judges don’t matter.
This was an exhibition. It’s a damn show for the Vegas crowd. In
the real world? The UCC is what matters.
ERIN: Right—speaking of the UCC… you and Debby are 1–1 against
each other now. Pretty even.
SCARLETT:(cuts in coldly) No. I beat her the first time. And she
got a split decision the second time. Total garbage. You know
what that proves? The Disney girls get the calls. They get the
love, they get the hype, and apparently, they get the win even
when they’re getting wrecked.
ERIN: If that's true, why are the Disney Princesses 1–4 so far
in the Sin City Slugfest?
SCARLETT:(glares, voice dripping with sarcasm) Maybe they just
suck. (winces in pain as she tries to shift on the bench)
She groans, clutching her ribs as her trainer tries to help her
stand. Scarlett bats his hands away.
SCARLETT: Don’t help me—I’m fine.
She takes a deep, ragged breath and limps toward the exit. Her
robe draped over one arm, the ice pack on her ribs slipping
slightly as she turns back.
SCARLETT: Let Debby have this one. Let her wave to the crowd
like she just won a title. But next time? No lights, no crowd,
no stacked judges—just gloves, grit, and pain. We’ll see who’s
still standing.
She stares down the ERIN one last time.
SCARLETT: And tell the Princesses this—I'm not done. Not by a
long shot.
With that, Scarlett grits her teeth, lets out a low grunt of
pain, and storms out of the locker room, her bare feet slapping
against the cold floor as her entourage scrambles to catch up.
Written by The Badass Barbies
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