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« on: July 15, 2025, 05:50:49 pm »Sin City Slugfest VI
Main Event - Blind Fold Match - 18
Debby Ryan vs Scarlett Johansson
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
Main Event - Blind Fold Match - 18
Debby Ryan vs Scarlett Johansson
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