Just before she walked through the world promising the lore of ancient Greek life, Betsy can’t help but turn her head towards the path marked Star-Crossed. Having an idea where that road was headed, Betsy looks between it and Olympus, wondering which one would be more painful to get through. None of these situations had been ideal thus far; the idea of having to deal with a manifestation of Jenny Myst left her cringing. Rolling her green eyes in disgust, she heads towards the path and passes through it before she could change her mind...

___

“You know Jenny, I honestly thought that once I claimed this belt at Snow Job, our business would be finished. Silly me, right? But I never thought that your obsession with the belt... And with ME... Would turn you into an absolute sociopath. Carving my name into other people on live television? Really, Jenny? The fact that the idiot was stupid enough to let you do it speaks more about her than it does you. Knowing that you actually have that type of influence over ANYONE is alarming on many levels. You’re no role model, Jenny Myst, and you certainly have no business being a leader among women. You’re toxic to the core and your brain stopped developing at fifteen. Then I look at those who have chosen to blindly follow your lead, and I realize you don’t exactly have the crème de la crème to boat about.

I see this for what it really is though; I recognize a temper tantrum when I see one. You just went overboard with yours this time. I thought Jenny Myst wasn’t going to succumb to darkness like the Left Hand? I thought Jenny Myst was the lone wolf who didn’t NEED anybody to help her along? And yet, here we are, and not only do you lead a group of moronic broads, but you also aligned yourself with BoB, despite signing that RMI contract. Pretty awkward situation you’ve got there, considering your unofficial leader recently raised her Left Hand and became a puppet of the Baphomet. Fun fact, girly: The moment Miss Fury made her allegiance to the Baphomet and the Left Hand known, that pretty much committed BoB to the cause as well. Perhaps you never raised the Left Hand, but you are now guilty by association; Who knows, maybe a cult mentality would be good for someone like you. The way you think about things and look at life isn’t healthy; not that the Left Hand is going to enlighten you to anything useful for your future, but at least you’ll have more backup when I’m kicking that ass at March Madness.

So, what’s the supergroup faction going to be called? I’m going for ‘The Brotherhood of the Left Hand’, myself, which has a lovely, doomsday ring to it. It’s exactly the kind of name that inspires headlines like “Wrestlers Commit Mass Suicide After False Prophet Warps Their Weak Little Minds.”

Alright, maybe not quite as on the nose, but you catch my drift, right? Moving right along...

You’ve been on one hell of a good streak of bad luck recently, haven’t you kid? Not only did you fail to recapture the Shooting Star Championship back from Geri, but you also failed to get the job done against Demos for the TV title as well. That one you honestly shouldn’t take to heart so much; you weren’t the first to fall to the guy and you won’t be the last. The loss against Doc in the Sweet Sixteen round too was a groaner. Mostly because I was irked and maybe a little jealous that a Doc match got wasted on Jenny Myst, but that’s just this girls' opinion. I didn’t mean to turn this into a history lesson; I’m sure no one, especially you, needs reminding of all your recent shortcomings. But they just roll off the tongue so nicely, I truly couldn’t help myself. And the night Roxy came out and put you in your place... Tell me, is that the night you snapped? She really left you with one hell of a choice to make, and yet... at every opportunity you’ve had to gain something... you’ve choked epically. The bouts you’ve been involved in, the golden chances you’ve had to really propel your name, and you couldn’t even capitalize.

What the hell makes you think you’ve got a shot at regaining the Shooting Star Championship? I’ll hold while you ponder this for a few minutes...”

____

Flashing lights bombard her vision the instant she walks through the barrier; she instantly recognizes hordes of paparazzi in front of her. The swarm surrounds her as she attempts to walk down a red carpet towards a town car. James reaches out and guides her along gently by her shoulder. She looks over to give him a thankful smile, but the constant flashing of the bright camera bulbs makes him a mere silhouette. With renewed determination, she and James quicken their pace and slide into the backseat of the car. The driver shuts the door on the paparazzi; the tinted windows offer a blessed relief from the blinding lights. She blinks rapidly for a few moments, allowing her eyes to adjust to the dim lighting of the car. James’ hand sneaks under the slit in her dress and starts rubbing her thigh; she looks over at him, her green eyes already turning hazy with lust...

And gasps when the face of Noah Jackson returns her expression.

Instinctively, she pulls her thigh away from his hand and covers it with as much of the dress as she can. Noah’s eyes narrow in confusion as he looks at her quizzically. “Is something the matter?”

“Whaaaaaaaat the heck are you doing? Where are James and Atara?” Her own confusion begins to bubble over as Noah attempts to pull her into his arms.

Noah looks utterly perplexed now, letting his arms fall limply into his own lap. “Last I checked, I was just talking with my fiancé and maybe trying to cop a feel or two. As for the lovey-dovey cunts, I’m sure they’re with Dad in their weird sex dungeon or whatever the fuck they call it these days.”

“Their what... Your who?” Betsy stumbles over her words as her breath leaves her. Noah looks genuinely worried now as he leans forward and peers into her eyes.

“Are you feeling alright, Bets? You were looking kind of pale in the arena; maybe we should stop somewhere for food.” He brushes a lock of her hair tenderly out of her face, using the opportunity to put his arm around her.

Even though her brain was slowly starting to put some things together, she couldn’t help but stiffen under his touch. Noah notices; guilt hits her when he’s unable to hide the look of hurt in his eyes. Sucking in a deep breath and attempting to calm her racing brain, Betsy reaches out and tentatively places her hand over his own.“I’m sorry, love; I suppose I am feeling a bit out of it. Food sounds good, let's go get some grub.”

She can’t help but smile a bit as his enthusiasm and relief light up his face. Sliding his fingers under her chin, he gently pulls her face to his and plants a sweet kiss on her lips. James’ face instantly comes to mind and guilt begins to stomp its way through her. Even still, she forced herself to return it as convincingly as possible. Noah smiles lustily down at her when he pulls his lips away and caresses her face. “There’s more where that came from when we get home tonight.”

The pit of her stomach flutters with nerves as she immediately tries to come up with ways to get out of that one. It’s not long before they reach a small diner set outside of the city they had just left. It’s set up as an old-fashioned malt shop, right down to the waitresses in 1950s uniforms and roller-skates. Betsy looks at the building with a smile as Noah helps her out of the car; it’s short-lived when he pulls her against him for a much more heated kiss than the last one. Despite all her reservations, she finds herself enjoying it and is soon responding enthusiastically. That was until a familiar voice turned her blood to ice.

“You two just can’t keep your hands off each other, can you?”

Noah snickers as he turns away from Betsy to greet James. “Talk about the cunt calling the kettle black."

Her heart jumps into her throat as Raven’s eyes land on her. “James... I can explain...”

James holds up a hand as he laughs. “That’s alright Bets, I really don’t need those details. I know what men and women do when they love each other.”

“Ooooh, are we having the sex talk?” The unmistakable throaty, Greek accents floats over to Betsy from behind James,

A moment later, Atara appears behind him. Her arms wrap around his torso as she slides to his side. Betsy watches in horror as the two lock lips passionately and gets tangled up in each other’s arms. She instinctively steps forward to object, until Shawn Warstein approaches the scene as well. Fear flutters in her stomach as he walks up to the lip-locked couple; Betsy watches as he watches, his face giving away nothing. When Atty and James finally pull apart, Shawn walks in between them, facing Atty. “Save some for me.” He says and grabbing her by the hair, pulls her face to his for another lust-filled kiss.

Frozen on the spot, Betsy watches this display in clear shock as James smiles warmly at the both of them. Noah whispers in her ear as he wraps an arm around her waist. “Why don’t we give the three of them a moment? You know how they get sometimes.” Allowing Noah to steer her into the diner, Betsy looks back over her shoulder to see James joining in the kiss, and then she’s through the doors. Lost in thought, she’s barely aware of Noah greeting the hostess, sliding into the booth, or even picking up the menu. It isn’t until Noah pinches her arm gently that she snaps back to reality. “Hey, what’s going on with you tonight?”

Betsy stares up into his concerned eyes and tries to smile, but fails. “Is there any chance Jax might be joining us tonight?"

"Jax? Who the fuck is Jax?” Noah asks, clearly startled by the question.

Betsy’s suspicions are confirmed, leaving her stomach feeling queasy. James, Shawn, and Atara walk-in then and take up the booth in front of them. Betsy eyes them all, still weirded out at all the touching going on between the three. Forcing herself to move on from that, she sighs and places her hands on the table. Her expression is troubled as she regards each of them individually. “Guys... We need to talk...”

____

“Times up, Jenny. Did you come up with a laundry list of bullshit for me yet? LOL who am I kidding, all you ever spout off is bullshit. Do you know what else could be classified under the category of bullshit? You even being my opponent in this defense. I’ll grant you one thing so that you can taste some of the validation you clearly still seek: When I won the belt at Snow Job, you were right. I had intended to vacate. My goal in winning this was merely to tick you off; watching you lunge into an actual crowd for it was even funnier. But then it got me thinking...

The Shooting Star title, since I’ve been around, has been held by two of the most unsavory women I’ve ever had the displeasure of knowing. Geri has all but disappeared, and I don’t think anyone is upset about that. But you... Not you, Jenny. And that’s the difference between a punk-like her and determination like yours. You’ve got a tenacity flowing through you that’s worth admiring, but that’s about the end of your list of positive qualities. What you do with that ‘can-do’ attitude are all the ‘don’t do it’ things that make you one of the most hated people in XWF. But you already know that. You’ve gone on record enough times, whining endlessly about how nobody likes you and the man wants to hold you down. Get over yourself. If the man were truly smothering you, you never would have had the opportunities handed to you leading into our ladder match. The TV Title shot against Demos. A golden opportunity for an impressive advancement in March Madness; But don’t get too down on that one, I’ll bet even your buddy CCP would have his hands full against Doc.

So here we come full circle; after all your crying and moaning and endless opportunities, after all my triumphs and meteoric rise through the roster, we find ourselves facing one another once again. I’m all about a good repeat Jenny but mark my words: When you lose again, that’s it. Back of the line, I don’t even want to hear a whisper of my name from your lips. The fact that there are other women on this roster that deserve this opportunity more than you hurts my soul. And that’s the other realization I came to at Snow Job, Jenny: You simply don’t deserve this belt. You never did. You correctly accused me of only wanting it just to troll you, but believe me when I say those feelings have passed. Actually, holding it, experiencing what it’s like to be in the championship ranks... It reminds me of why I tried this business again for the third time.

The Shooting Star title is mine, Jenny, and it’s going to remain that way. I see now what it meant to you; you never cared for its history or representation in the business in which you won it. You only cared for the glory it could bring you: sponsorships, acting gigs, marketing campaigns. If you wanted to be an entrepreneur, there were easier ways to go about it than polluting a perfectly good wrestling ring. If you wanted to be the face on the poster, there are modeling agencies everywhere that could plaster your face all over the world. If you wanted to see your face widespread on TV, you should have been hitting up acting couches, not locker rooms. You may have held the belt for an impressive one hundred and one days, but you tainted its history with your behavior and whims. I suppose I feel personally responsible for guiding the history of the Shooting Star title back into a positive light.

March Madness will be upon us before we know it and you had better come ready for the fight of your life. Because whatever this is between us... It ends.”

____

Four pairs of confused eyes bore into her as Betsy explains the situation as she can see it. “I’m not sure if this is a parallel universe or something; All I know is, things go much differently where I come from. Like you three....” She says, indicating Atara, James, and Shawn. “This is only a portion correct. Atara and Shawn are definitely together and in love. But there’s no James in that equation, he’s-”

“I would get the short straw in another world,” says James, his bitterness clear in his tone. Atara looks over at him, her Aegean blue eyes soft, and leans in to kiss his cheek softly. Jealousy and anger tug at Betsy, but she’s determined to continue. She rips her eyes away from them and catches Shawn observing her closely; his expression is sympathetic and curious.

“You and James are together in your universe, aren’t you?” This earns some snickers from Noah and Atty, but now James watches Betsy with the same wondrous expression. Slowly nodding her head yes, she meets James’ eyes and attempts to decipher what he could be thinking.

Beside her, Noah stops laughing and begins to process things. “So, if you cunts are all paired off, where does that leave me?”

Betsy smiles up at him, green eyes shining. “In my world, there’s another one of us named Jackson Hart. You and he are the proverbial bachelors and trust me when I say neither of you lacks for female company.”

“But you and I...” His voice trails off when Betsy shakes her head no. “Well, fuck me, then...”Abruptly, Noah rises from his chair and heads to the door. Betsy automatically stands as well and gives him a pleading look that begs him to stay. Noah looks at her with sad eyes and shakes his head. “It’s fine, Bets... I just need a minute to sort this out.”

“Let him go.” James calls out as Noah slinks out the door and sits on the hood of his car with his hand over his face. “He’ll be back, he just needs to absorb.”

“In the meantime, we should probably put our heads together to figure out a few other things. The main one being: Where is YOUR Betsy?” The Impossible Traveler can’t help but chuckle at the words leaving her mouth. Then her emerald eyes grow concerned as another thought crosses her head. “I hope this doesn’t create a paradox...”

“Let’s just take all of this one step at a time, shall we? Maybe if we figure out how you got here, we can locate OUR Betsy.” Atara suggests coldly, eyeing Betsy with open distrust.

It hurts her to see the expression on Atty’s face, but she finds herself oddly understanding about it, given the situation and such. She nods her head in agreement as Noah bursts back through the doors to join them...

FORMER