[The Italian]

Elizabeth Olsen vs Scarlett Johansson



Elizabeth Olsen sat in her makeup chair, eyes fixed on the reflection of the bustling set of "Avengers: Age of Ultron" in the mirror. She felt the heat of the lights above and the weight of the costume she wore as Wanda Maximoff, the Scarlet Witch. The atmosphere on set was charged, a storm brewing beneath the surface.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the director's call for the next scene. She took a deep breath and stood up, ready to face another day of filming. As she stepped out of the trailer, she noticed Scarlett Johansson, dressed as the Black Widow, talking to the director. Scarlett's laughter was light and infectious, but Elizabeth couldn't help but feel a twinge of annoyance. The two had been butting heads for weeks now, their personalities as starkly contrasting as their on-screen personas.

The tension grew palpable as Elizabeth approached the group. Scarlett's eyes flicked up to meet hers for a brief, icy moment before returning to the director. Elizabeth's jaw clenched. She knew what was coming.

"Lizzie," Scarlett called out, her voice sugary sweet, "could you maybe run through the scene with a bit more... I don't know, urgency?" The way she emphasized 'Lizzie' made it clear she knew it was Elizabeth's pet peeve. The other cast members shifted uncomfortably, aware of the undercurrent of hostility.

"I'll give it my all," Elizabeth responded through gritted teeth, her professionalism the only thing keeping her from snapping.

As the day progressed, the barbs grew sharper. Each time Scarlett suggested a change or offered 'advice', it felt like a personal attack. Elizabeth's frustration mounted, and she found it increasingly difficult to keep her cool.

Finally, during a break, Elizabeth had had enough. "Could I have a word with you, Scarlett?" she asked, her voice tight.

Scarlett raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Sure, let's go to my trailer."

The door to the trailer clicked shut behind them, and the argument began. It started with accusations of unprofessional behavior, but quickly escalated into a heated debate about their characters, the script, and their places in the franchise.

"You think you're so much better than everyone else, just because you've been here longer," Elizabeth spat out, her eyes flashing with anger.

"Oh, please," Scarlett retorted, "You're the one who struts around like you own the place."

Their voices grew louder, and their words sharper, until finally, the dam broke. Elizabeth shoved Scarlett, and the latter stumbled back, knocking over a table covered with props. They both froze, staring at each other in shock.

The sound of the table crashing to the floor echoed in the trailer. The moment hung in the air, heavy with anticipation. Then, as if propelled by an unseen force, Elizabeth and Scarlett lunged at each other, their hands tangling in a mess of hair and fabric. The trailer's walls seemed to close in around them, a silent witness to the battle of the leading ladies.

Elizabeth felt the tug of Scarlett's grip on her fiery locks, and a surge of anger fueled her strength. She yanked back, and the pain only served to intensify her resolve. The two women stumbled around the small space, knocking over chairs and sending script pages fluttering in their wake. The smell of hairspray and makeup filled the air as their carefully constructed personas crumbled away.

With a final burst of power, Elizabeth managed to push Scarlett onto the plush sofa that lined one wall of the trailer. The sofa groaned under their weight, and the sound of fabric ripping pierced through their grunts of exertion. Scarlett's eyes flashed with surprise as Elizabeth pinned her down, holding her wrists above her head.

"This isn't a comic book, Scarlett," Elizabeth mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "In the real world, you're not the badass Black Widow. You can't just charm or fight your way through every situation."

Scarlett's eyes narrowed. "And you're not the almighty Scarlet Witch," she hissed back, trying to free her wrists. "You're just a newbie who thinks she's got it all figured out."

Elizabeth leaned in closer, her breath hot against Scarlett's face. "At least I've figured out you're a bitch," she said, her voice low and mocking.

The sudden sound of a knock on the trailer door made them both jump. "Everything okay in there, ladies?" It was the director, Joss Whedon.

Scarlett and Elizabeth exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them. "Yeah, we're fine," Scarlett called out, her voice slightly strained. "Just rehearsing the fight scene."

Elizabeth felt a flicker of annoyance at Scarlett's quick recovery, but she played along. "Yeah, just getting into character," she added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

The door handle rattled as Joss tried the lock. "Break's over, we're gearing up for the next shot."

Scarlett and Elizabeth scrambled to their feet, breathing heavily, their costumes disheveled. "We're coming," Scarlett called out, her voice more composed than it had been seconds ago. She shot Elizabeth a look that was a mix of anger and something else - something Elizabeth couldn't quite decipher.

The door opened, and Joss Whedon poked his head in, his eyes flicking between the two actresses. "Everything good in here?" he asked, his tone carefully neutral.

"Yes, we're just... discussing the scene," Elizabeth managed, her voice still shaking from the adrenaline rush.

Joss nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Elizabeth's for a moment. He understood the subtext, the unspoken words that hung in the air. "Good, good," he said, his voice calm. "But remember, we're a team. We need to work together to make this film great."

Scarlett straightened her costume, her eyes never leaving Elizabeth's. "Of course, Joss," she replied smoothly. "We're just ironing out some...creative differences."

Joss nodded again, his eyes still narrowed slightly. "I'll see you both on set," he said before closing the door.

The rest of the day went surprisingly smoothly. The scene they had been rehearsing earlier played out without a hitch, the tension between Elizabeth and Scarlett seemingly forgotten. As the final "Cut!" was called, the set erupted into applause, and the two actresses took their bows, plastering on smiles for the crew.

As Elizabeth was leaving the set, her assistant, a young intern with a perpetually nervous disposition, approached her with a small, folded note. "This was handed to me, miss Olsen," he said, his voice quivering. "It's from Miss Johansson."

Elizabeth took the note with a flick of her wrist, her eyes narrowing as she unfolded it. The words scrawled in hasty handwriting sent a chill down her spine. "Be there if you really stick to your words." It was an unspoken challenge, one she hadn't expected so soon after their heated altercation.

The hotel name and room number stood out starkly against the white paper. She knew what Scarlett meant. This wasn't just a peace offering or a chance to smooth things over. It was a demand for a private confrontation, a continuation of their unresolved tension. Elizabeth felt a strange mix of excitement and dread, a thrill that was almost intoxicating.

Her eyes followed Scarlett's retreating figure as she disappeared into her own trailer, the door slamming shut with finality. The shadow of a smile played on Scarlett's lips as she glanced back, a silent declaration of intent. The air between them crackled with the promise of unspoken words and actions waiting to be unleashed.

Elizabeth took a deep breath and composed herself, the makeup artist rushing to fix her smudged lipstick and straighten her costume. She had to maintain her cool, her professional facade, at least until the day's filming was over. But she knew she couldn't let this go unanswered. The note burned a hole in her pocket, a silent taunt that she had to respond to.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Elizabeth made her way to the luxurious hotel where the cast was staying. She strode through the marble lobby, ignoring the curious glances from the hotel staff and guests. She knew they recognized her, but she had no time to indulge in small talk or autographs. Her destination was clear: the penthouse suite, the most expensive room in the hotel.

Her hand hovered over the doorbell for a moment before she took a deep breath and rapped her knuckles against the heavy wood. She heard movement inside, and a moment later, the door swung open. Scarlett stood before her, dressed in a silk robe that barely contained her curves, her hair wet and loose around her shoulders. She smelled faintly of expensive perfume and something else, something... provocative.

"You came," she said, her voice low and inviting. Elizabeth stepped into the suite, her eyes scanning the room. It was dimly lit, the curtains drawn to keep out the prying eyes of paparazzi. The furniture had indeed been moved to the edges, leaving a vast, plush rug in the center. It was a stark contrast to the chaos of the trailer earlier, the perfect stage for a different kind of battle.

"Where else would I be?" Elizabeth replied, her tone even. She met Scarlett's gaze, and something in the way the older actress looked at her made her heart race.

Scarlett stepped aside, gesturing to the cleared space. "Here," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Nobody will stop us here."

Elizabeth looked at her, the challenge in her eyes unmistakable. "You want to resolve this like a couple of teenagers fighting in the schoolyard?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "Is that really what you think we've come to?"

"I'm just saying, you started it," Scarlett smirked, her voice filled with a hint of amusement. She leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed under her breasts. "But if that's what you want, then sure, let's do this."

With deliberate slowness, Scarlett untied the sash of her robe and let it fall open. The silk whispered as it slid down her body, pooling around her ankles, leaving her naked except for a scrap of black lace that barely covered her. The sight of her bare skin was like a sucker punch to Elizabeth's gut. She felt a jolt of embarassment and anger, a volatile cocktail that only served to stoke the fire burning within her.

Without breaking eye contact, Elizabeth began to peel off her own clothes. Her eyes never left Scarlett's, the challenge in her gaze unwavering. When she was down to her underwear, she paused, her fingers hovering over the fabric of her bra and panties. Then, with a swift, decisive motion, she removed her bra, letting it fall to the floor. She stepped out of her shoes and socks, standing tall in only her crimson panties.

The room grew warmer as the two women took each other in, their eyes roving over the other's form. The weeks of training for the film had paid off, sculpting their bodies into works of art that would make even the most stoic of onlookers gasp. The muscles of Elizabeth's arms and abs were taut and defined, a testament to her dedication to her craft. Scarlett's curves were soft yet firm, a blend of strength and sensuality that was as lethal as it was alluring.


"Well, well," Elizabeth said, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she took in the sight of Scarlett's barely-there underwear. "It seems the Scarlet Witch and the Black Widow are wearing their signature colors today." She playfully tugged at the thin strip of fabric that barely covered her own backside, matching the crimson of her character's costume. The gesture was a clear jab at Scarlett, a way to lighten the tension before the storm broke.

Scarlett's smirk grew wider, the challenge in her eyes now palpable. She raised her hands like claws, the muscles in her arms flexing seductively. It was a silent declaration that she was ready to pounce, to let the pent-up frustration of weeks of snipes and slights boil over into a physical confrontation.

And pounce she did. Scarlett leaped towards Elizabeth with the grace of a panther, her legs moving in a blur as she closed the gap between them. Elizabeth, caught off-guard by the suddenness of the attack, barely had time to react. They collided, their bodies entangling in a mess of limbs and fabric. They rolled across the soft rug, their fists flying with wild abandon.

The fight was messy, fueled by passion rather than skill. Each punch and kick was driven by raw emotion, not choreography. They grappled and clawed at each other, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. The sound of skin on skin, of fabric tearing, filled the room, a cacophony of anger and desire.

Elizabeth felt the strength in Scarlett's arms as they wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground. The older actress's breasts pressed against her own, and for a fleeting moment, she was lost in the sensation. But the anger quickly reasserted itself, and she used her legs to push Scarlett away, sending them both sprawling once again.

They rolled to their feet, their eyes never leaving each other. The air was thick with anticipation, the tension in the room so potent it was almost tangible. They circled, their bodies glistening with sweat, their eyes alight with a fiery determination to best the other.

Their movements grew more deliberate, more calculated. They studied each other's stances, looking for weaknesses, for openings to exploit. Elizabeth's heart pounded in her chest, the adrenaline coursing through her veins like liquid fire.

With a snarl, Scarlett launched herself at Elizabeth, her fist connecting with a satisfying thud against the younger woman's cheek. The impact sent Elizabeth staggering back, stars dancing before her eyes. She could feel the heat of the slap spreading across her skin, the sting of the blow. But instead of backing down, she felt a surge of power, a deep, primal need to fight back.


Elizabeth's hand shot out, her nails raking down Scarlett's arm. The older woman gasped in pain, but the sound only spurred Elizabeth on. She tackled Scarlett to the ground, their bodies a tangle of limbs and anger. They rolled, each trying to gain the upper hand, the softness of the rug giving way to the unforgiving floor beneath.

Suddenly, Scarlett was behind her, her powerful legs wrapping around Elizabeth's waist like a vice. Elizabeth's breath left her in a whoosh, and she felt her opponent’s body press against her back. She struggled, her hands pushing against Scarlett's thighs, trying to break free. But the woman was too strong, too determined.

The next thing she knew, Scarlett's hands were on her breasts, squeezing them with a brutal force that made Elizabeth scream out in agony. The pain was intense, a blaze that seemed to consume her entire being. She tried to arch away, but Scarlett's grip only tightened, her fingers digging into the tender flesh with a mercilessness that took Elizabeth's breath away.

"Is that all you've got, you weak, pathetic girl?" Scarlett's voice was a sneer in her ear, her breath hot against Elizabeth's neck. "You think you can come at me like this and not expect to get hurt?"

The words cut through Elizabeth like a knife. She bucked wildly, trying to dislodge Scarlett's grip. But the other woman was relentless, her legs like steel bands holding Elizabeth in place. With a snarl of her own, Elizabeth reached back, her hand connecting with Scarlett's face. She felt the wetness of Scarlett's lip as it split beneath her knuckle, and she heard the other woman's gasp of pain. But it was a victory short-lived.

Scarlett's response was swift and brutal. She sank her teeth into the fleshiest part of Elizabeth's shoulder, biting down hard. Elizabeth's eyes went wide, and she screamed, the pain like nothing she'd ever felt before. It was a stark reminder that this wasn't a movie scene, that there were no stunt doubles or CGI to save her.

The shock of the bite was enough to make Elizabeth's hand jerk away from Scarlett's face. She bucked and writhed, trying to dislodge the woman on top of her. But Scarlett's grip was like iron, her teeth embedded in Elizabeth's skin. Elizabeth felt the warm trickle of blood run down her arm, and her survival instincts took over.

With a roar of anger and pain, Elizabeth reached back again, her hand a blur as she clawed at Scarlett's face. Her nails raked across the soft skin of Scarlett's cheek, leaving deep, red furrows in their wake. Scarlett's grip loosened, and she released the bite with a howl of pain,, clutching her face.

Elizabeth took advantage of the momentary distraction, planting her nails into the flesh of Scarlett's thighs and digging deep. Scarlett's legs tightened around her waist in reflex, and she grunted with pain, but Elizabeth didn't relent.

Her nails scored down Scarlett's legs, leaving a trail of crimson behind. Scarlett's eyes widened in shock and pain, and she released her scissor-like grip around Elizabeth's waist with a howl, her hands flying to her face to cover the stinging scratches. The sudden release of pressure allowed Elizabeth to wiggle free, and she rolled away, panting and gasping for air.

They both sat up, panting heavily, staring at each other with wild, unbridled anger in their eyes. The hotel room was a mess, their discarded clothing scattered across the floor, the smell of sweat and blood mingling with the expensive scent of the suite. The rug was rumpled, a stark testament to the ferocity of their battle.

Elizabeth crouched low, her eyes never leaving Scarlett. Her shoulder throbbed from the bite, and the taste of blood coated her tongue. She felt the fabric of her own underwear stick to her skin, torn and wet from their struggle. Her breasts heaved with every breath, her heart pounding in her chest like a drum. The only thing that mattered in that moment was the burning need to show Scarlett that she wasn't a pushover, that she wouldn't be talked down to or belittled anymore.

Scarlett mirrored her stance, her eyes glinting with a mix of anger and something else - something almost... hungry. The scratches on her face were already swelling, beads of crimson blood forming on the surface. The pain only seemed to fuel her determination, her teeth bared in a snarl as she eyed Elizabeth with the intensity of a predator.

With a roar that seemed to come from the depths of their shared frustration, they both charged forward, their bodies colliding with a sound that was more of a wet smack than a thud. They fell to the floor, the plush carpet doing little to cushion their impact as they rolled across it, limbs tangling and untangling in a frenzy of rage.

Elizabeth's nails dug into Scarlett's skin, leaving red trails on her arms and chest. Scarlett retaliated with slaps that echoed through the suite, each one stinging Elizabeth's face and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. The pain was a strange, twisted pleasure, driving Elizabeth to fight even harder.

In a sudden, animalistic move, Elizabeth leaned forward, her teeth bared. She latched onto Scarlett's right nipple, biting down hard. Scarlett's scream of pain was music to Elizabeth's ears. The sensation of the firm, sensitive flesh between her teeth sent a shockwave through her body, a mix of pleasure and power. She felt Scarlett's grip on her loosen as the other woman's hands flew to her chest, trying to push her away.

But Elizabeth was relentless. She clamped down harder, her teeth sinking deeper into the softness of Scarlett's breast, even as the older actress's nails dug into her scalp. The pain in her head was a distant second to the triumph of causing her tormentor agony. Scarlett's breasts were the ultimate symbol of her dominance, and now Elizabeth had claimed one for herself.

With a final, brutal twist, she released her bite, her teeth marks already forming a dark purple bruise on the alabaster skin. Scarlett's eyes watered with pain, and she gasped for breath, her chest heaving. Elizabeth took the opportunity to crawl over her, planting her knees firmly on Scarlett's midsection, effectively pinning her to the floor.

Her hands moved to Scarlett's breasts, and she grabbed them with a ferocity that belied her usually gentle nature. With a grimace of determination, Elizabeth began to squeeze, twisting the soft flesh in a way that was both painful and degrading. Scarlett's eyes went wide with shock, and she bucked beneath her, trying to dislodge the younger woman.

"Had enough?" Elizabeth sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. "Want to admit that you're not as tough as you think you are?"

Through gritted teeth, Scarlett managed to spit out, "You're just a nobody, Elizabeth. Famous only because of your sisters."

That was the final straw. All the frustration and anger that had been building inside Elizabeth for weeks erupted in a fiery blaze. Her hand shot out like a whip, the palm connecting with Scarlett's cheek with a crack that echoed through the suite. The force of the slap sent Scarlett's head snapping to the side, her eyes momentarily glazed over with shock.

But then, to Elizabeth's astonishment, a smile began to spread across Scarlett's face. It was a smile that said she'd been waiting for this, that the pain was exactly what she'd wanted. The smile grew wider, more taunting, as Elizabeth's hand stung from the impact. The words had hit home, and Scarlett knew it. She reveled in the knowledge that she had struck a nerve, that she had gotten under Elizabeth's skin in a way that was far deeper than any physical blow could manage.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?" Scarlett said, her voice a low purr of satisfaction. "But you know what they say, darling: if you can't take the heat..."

Before Scarlett could finish her sentence, Elizabeth's hand shot out again, aiming for her smug smile. But the seasoned actress was ready for it. With a swift twist of her body, she buckled her hips and unseated Elizabeth, sending her crashing down onto the rug once more. Elizabeth's hand grazed her cheek, but the intended slap never landed.

With surprising agility, Scarlett flipped herself over, her legs wrapping around Elizabeth's neck and arm. The strength in those long limbs was astonishing, the vice-like grip cutting off Elizabeth's airflow, her arm overstretched by Scarlett. She felt the panic rise within her, her vision swimming as the world grew darker. But even in the face of suffocation, she wouldn't give in.

Scarlett smiled while mercilessly squeezing Elizabeth neck. "You know why you're here, don't you?" she whispered, her voice a mix of pain and mockery. "You're just the poor little Olsen who got lucky because everyone feels sorry for your nutjob sister. That's your claim to fame, sweetheart."

Elizabeth's rage grew, burning away the last shreds of control she had left. With a roar that seemed to come from the depths of her soul, she began to thrash wildly, her body contorting as she desperately tried to break free from Scarlett's ironclad hold. Her legs kicked and flailed, her arm reaching out for anything that could help her escape, but Scarlett's grip was unyielding.

"You're pathetic," Scarlett continued, her voice a seductive whisper. "You think you can play with the big girls? That just because you have a pretty face and a famous last name, you belong here?" She tightened her legs, the pressure on Elizabeth's neck increasing. "You're just a charity case, Olsen. A sad attempt to make your family look normal."

But Elizabeth had had enough. With a surge of adrenaline, she felt a sudden opening. She twisted her body, bringing her free arm up with all the strength she could muster. Her fist shot out like a bullet, slamming into Scarlett's exposed stomach with a sound like a watermelon cracking. Scarlett's eyes went wide with shock, the air rushing from her lungs in a pained "oof." The grip on Elizabeth's neck loosened just enough for her to pull free.

They both lay there, panting and gasping for air, their bodies entwined in a mess of limbs and bruises. Elizabeth felt the burning in her throat subside, her eyes stinging with the tears that had threatened to fall. She looked at Scarlett, her chest heaving, and saw the surprise and pain in the other woman's eyes.

Suddenly, Scarlett's expression changed, and she saw the realization dawn. The seether rage in Elizabeth's eyes had turned the tide of the fight. Scarlett knew she had pushed too far, crossed a line that even she didn't intend to. With a sudden jolt of fear, she rolled away from Elizabeth, her hands and feet moving quickly to propel her backward across the floor. The rug burned her bare skin, but she ignored it, her eyes never leaving the younger woman's face.

Elizabeth followed, crawling on all fours like a beast stalking its prey. The pain in her throat was forgotten, replaced by a fiery determination to silence Scarlett's spiteful words. She was no longer the composed, professional actress; she was a creature of wrath, driven by a need to prove herself.

Scarlett flailed her legs, trying to kick Elizabeth away, but her movements were slow and clumsy. She had underestimated Elizabeth's strength and resilience. Elizabeth ducked and weaved, dodging the wild kicks that came her way. Each one that connected was a testament to Scarlett's desperation, the thuds of her bare feet hitting Elizabeth's body echoing through the suite like the beating of a drum.

But Elizabeth was single-minded in her pursuit. She lunged forward, her teeth bared like an animal. With a snarl, she grabbed Scarlett's ankles, her nails digging into the soft flesh. Scarlett's eyes went wide with shock as she felt Elizabeth's mouth clamp down on her right foot, her teeth sinking into the arch with a ferocity that was almost terrifying.

The pain was intense, a white-hot needle piercing through the bone. She kicked and screamed, her body writhing in an attempt to free herself from the agonizing bite. But Elizabeth was relentless, her jaw locked tight around Scarlett's foot. She bit down harder, her teeth breaking the skin and drawing blood.

Scarlett's eyes watered with pain, her voice a high-pitched squeal of agony. "Elizabeth, stop!" she begged, her legs kicking in a desperate attempt to break free. But Elizabeth was beyond reason, her mind a haze of anger and adrenaline. She felt a twisted pleasure in making the woman who had belittled her suffer, in showing her that she was not someone to be trifled with.

Her teeth moved from Scarlett's foot to her toes, biting down hard on the delicate digits. The sound of Scarlett shrieks of pain was obscene in the otherwise quiet room, the taste of blood on her tongue only serving to fuel her rage. Scarlett's nails scraped against Elizabeth's scalp as she tried to pull away, her legs thrashing wildly. But Elizabeth held firm, her jaw a vice around her opponent's foot.

With a grunt of effort, she released Scarlett's ankle and began to crawl over her body, her eyes never leaving the other woman's. Scarlett's eyes grew wider with fear and pain as Elizabeth loomed above her, her teeth still bared. Elizabeth's hands moved to Scarlett's wrists, pinning them to the floor with surprising strength. She straddled the older woman, sitting down on the soft flesh of Scarlett's stomach.

Her hand rose again, and she brought it down hard on Scarlett's cheek, the slap resonating through the suite. Scarlett's head snapped to the side, and Elizabeth felt a twisted satisfaction at the sound of her opponent's cry. The taste of victory was sweet on her tongue, mingling with the coppery tang of blood from her own shoulder.

Scarlett's eyes flashed with a mix of anger and something else, something darker. But Elizabeth didn't care. She brought her hand up again and again, slapping Scarlett's face with a rhythm that was almost mesmerizing. Each strike left a red handprint on the pale skin, and with every hit, Scarlett's once-beautiful features grew more and more contorted with pain.

Her slaps grew in intensity, her hand moving from Scarlett's cheeks to her breasts, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing in the room like a macabre symphony. Elizabeth felt the softness of Scarlett's flesh give way under her palm, and she watched with grim satisfaction as the other woman's eyes filled with tears. The woman who had once looked down on her with such disdain was now at her mercy, her body bruised and her spirit broken and Elizabeth smiled wildly as she tortured Scarlett's world famous rack: slaps, claws, pinches, bites transformed Scarlett's soft breasts into a pain map of scratches and bruises.

Scarlett couldn’t believe what was happening, she never thought Elizabeth would ever had a chance to dominate her that way. Through the haze of pain and humiliation, she found her voice. "Elizabeth, please," she whispered, her voice cracking. "Please stop." The words were barely audible, a stark contrast to the fiery taunts she had hurled moments before.

Ignoring the plea, Elizabeth's hand shot out, wrapping around Scarlett's throat. She squeezed, not too hard, but enough to make the other woman's eyes widen in fear. "Why should I leave you alone?" she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. "After everything you've said? After everything you've done?"

Scarlett's eyes searched Elizabeth's, the fire in them slowly dying down to be replaced with desperation. "I'm sorry," she choked out, the words barely audible. "Please, I….I take it back….just stop hurting me...."

Elizabeth felt a strange mix of emotions. The anger that had fueled her was now wavering, the desire to cause more pain giving way to a sense of dominance. She leaned in closer, her hand moving from Scarlett's throat to gently cup her face, her thumb tracing the swollen cheek. "You will never speak to me that way again," she murmured, her voice low and menacing. "You will never look down on me or treat me like I'm beneath you."

Scarlett's eyes searched hers, the fight draining from her body. "I won't," she whispered, the defeat in her voice unmistakable. Elizabeth's grip on her face tightened, her nails piercing the skin, before sliding down to squeeze the soft mound of her tit once more. The pain was sharp, a stark reminder of the power dynamics that had shifted so dramatically in the last few minutes.

With a final, almost tender squeeze, Elizabeth released Scarlett's tit and pushed herself off the prone woman. She rose to her feet, her body aching from their intense scuffle, but she ignored the pain. It was nothing compared to the hurtful words that had been thrown her way for weeks. She looked down at her torn and bruised body, the fabric of her underwear clinging to her in a mockery of modesty.

With a sharp intake of breath, she began to collect her discarded clothing, her movements mechanical as she dressed herself. The fabric whispered against her skin, each item a reminder of the battle she had just endured. Her hands shook as she buttoned her shirt, the material sticking to the sweat and blood that coated her torso. The pain in her shoulder was a constant throb, a stark reminder of Scarlett's teeth marks.

Before leaving the suite, Elizabeth paused, turning to cast a final, disdainful look at the woman who had once thought herself untouchable. Scarlett lay on the floor, her body a canvas of bruises and scratches, her eyes red and swollen from crying out in pain. The sight filled Elizabeth with a strange mix of triumph and disgust. She felt a sudden urge to mark her victory, to leave a symbol of her dominance behind.

Without a word, she leaned down and spat in Scarlett's face. The glob of saliva hit her cheek with a wet splat, sliding down to mix with the blood and tears that already stained her skin. Scarlett flinched, her eyes closing briefly as if she couldn't bear to look at Elizabeth anymore. But Elizabeth didn't care. She had made her point, had shown the woman who was truly in charge here.

Elizabeth turned away, her breath coming in ragged gasps. She could feel the adrenaline slowly leaving her body, the exhaustion of the fight settling in. She picked up her shoes and slipped them on, the heels clicking against the marble floor as she strode towards the door. The sound was like a gunshot in the tense silence of the suite.

In another room of the hotel, Joss Whedon sighed heavily as he watched the scene unfold on the monitor connected to the hotel's security system. His assistant, a young man with a worried expression, hovered by his side. "Is this really necessary?" he asked, his voice tentative.

Joss leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes. "Sometimes," he said wearily, "you have to let them sort it out themselves. Hollywood is a jungle, kid. And those two are the lionesses fighting for the throne." He took a swig of his coffee, wincing at the bitter taste. "It's not pretty, but it's how things get done."

The assistant nodded, his eyes never leaving the monitor. "But what about the production schedule?" he ventured. "We're already behind."

Joss took another sip of his coffee, his gaze unfocused. "We'll have to call a temporary hold," he said, his voice resigned. "A couple of days, tops. After this... display, I suspect they'll both be more inclined to keep their claws sheathed on set." He sighed heavily, his eyes flicking to the side. "And I'm going to have to eat crow with Robert. I had a bet with him that Scarlett would come out on top of this little spat."