//

Pew pew: pewpewpew; the constant flash of laser pistol fire blinds Betsy slightly as she peeks through the door of the closet she was currently trapped in…

And to think that just thirty minutes prior, she’d been floating idly along the outer rings of Andromeda, sitting in the doorway of Excellence and eating a sandwich (a Fluffernutter, the best kind of sandwich) while she stared down at the Milky Way, towards home. Her heart yearned for the little blue marble mixed in with the mess of stars, planets, and other heavenly objects that made up the little galaxy. She’d been lost in her musings and memories as she chewed her sticky snack, wondering how her family and friends were doing…

… At least she had been until the buzzing of the distress beacon cut through her thoughts.

Pulling herself up, she pops the last bite of sandwich into her mouth as she strides over to the communication center. She takes a long swig of milk as she flips the switch and listens to the jumbled SOS. Her eyes narrow as she makes out a strained female voice giving coordinates to a nearby planetary system. Pistol fire in the background drowned out the tinny voice, desperately describing her location and situation. Having heard enough, Betsy sets down her milk and types the complicated code of coordinates into the navigation system. Excellence gives an excited little shudder before disappearing into the time vortex, bound for her destination.

In a matter of moments, Excellence lands in the small craft storage compartment of a much bigger ship. The quiet outside seems unsettling to Betsy, and she creeps up to the door, slowly opening it a crack. Nothing there. She opens the door a bit wider and pokes her head out, looking around. She sees quickly that she’s the only life form in this room; sweeping curious green eyes around, she takes in the rest of her location.

Across the room, the door leading to the rest of the ship was a good forty paces away from where she stood. Plenty of room for an ambush from one of the other smaller ships that lined the walls; another quick observation told her that they were two-manned fighter crafts. Likely equipped to the teeth for local attacks on smaller areas, and something about the symbols told Betsy these weren’t friendlies. Taking a breath, she steps out of Excellence and takes a few paces across the room towards the door. Halfway there, the hair on the back of her neck stands on end, and as she turns around, she narrowly avoids being blasted by the precision shot of a laser.

She reaches to her waist for the lightsaber, only for her hand to close over empty air. She looks down and realizes with sinking horror that she’d left everything of import back on Excellence. Another shot interrupted her thoughts, causing her to drop to her stomach and begin army crawling towards the door. As she wiggles across the floor, she hears two voices speaking a language she can’t make out without the translator on Excellence. She reaches for the compass to start making sense of direction, only to find that it too was left back on the ship. Cursing her own ineptitude in the moment, she manages to find the door. Getting to her knees, she looks around and sees her assailants scurrying down the ladder of the same ship.

She had an advantage, but only for a few moments. Forcing herself to keep a level head, Betsy twists the knob of the door and allows herself to fall through it. This didn’t go unnoticed by her two assailants, who began to shout and shoot again; fortunately, Betsy managed to kick the door shut before they could reach her. Scrambling back to her feet, she quickly looks around and sees nothing but sweeping hallways on both sides of her. The footsteps on the other side of the door get louder, so Betsy decides to haul ass left; as she turns the corner and out of view, she hears the door bust open where she’d just been standing.

Betsy hurries along the hallway, passing by a multitude of doors with no markers or windows for her to peek into. As she turns another curve in the hall, alarms begin to blare across the entire ship, marking her presence. Rolling her eyes and cursing to herself again, she continues along, keeping an eye out for a suitable place to conceal herself and regroup. And perhaps, hopefully, find a weapon to defend herself and a map of the ship to figure out where the fuck she was. She doesn’t have long to ponder over this, as footsteps from both sides begin to dash closer to her, closing in. Looking around desperately, Betsy notices what appears to be a janitor's closet and slides inside.

Leaving the door open just a crack so she can peek out, Betsy watches as two sets of armed guards meet just outside where she was hiding. Leading up to the group coming from the direction she’d come from was one of the two assailants she had met in the cargo hold. His arms flailed about as he spoke rapidly in the language of these beings. Now having a better chance to observe, Betsy noticed the humanoid build with the very bug-like features. Something between a praying mantis and a hornet; long and thin with oddly long arms and legs. Betsy was relieved to find that none of them had a stinger, but it was short-lived when she saw the size of their teeth.

Every fiber of her being wanted to sneak back to Excellence and leave, but her instincts told her that the person calling for help was too important to leave behind….

//

“It’s good to see me, isn’t it?”

Betsy grins into the camera of her phone, broadcasting for the loyal XWF fans, current roster, and whoever the fuck else may tune in.

“I’m sure many of you thought I was gone for good, and to be entirely fair… I thought I was.”

The grin fades slightly as her face and tone take on a serious expression.

“When last we met, I wasn’t in the best place. My entire life fell apart, and instead of handling it like a big girl… I ran away like a child. Like a coward.”

Now her face darkens as she reminisces.

“I ran because I blamed others for why my life was in shambles instead of embracing the path I was on. I didn’t want to acknowledge my part in how my life got so screwed up so quickly; it’s easier being mad at others than it is to look at yourself with honest eyes and admit to yourself that you were the wrong one.”

Betsy takes a shaky breath as emotion smacks her around for a second.

“I don’t say that everything that happened was deserved, but I’d be a fool who learned nothing if I didn’t accept my part of the blame. I have amends to make now that I’m back; the obvious ones will know who they are, but there are others… But that’s for another time and place.”

Her dark expression clears, causing her green eyes to sparkle like emeralds and the coy smile to play across her lips once more.

“At present, we look to Warfare and my soon-to-be triumphant return to the only other place I called home. Back in that ring where I belong, reminding the world why they never truly forgot me.”

Her grin gets cockier as she points a finger into the camera.

“And anyone who did is about to be reintroduced to the most impossible chick you’ll ever meet. Starting with the sacrificial lamb they’ve chosen to pit me against so that I might brush off any ring rust. Latoya Hixx… Do I have that right?”

The angle of the camera changes slightly to an upward view of Betsy’s face as she checks the Wikipedia page created for her opponent. Whatever she reads makes her smirk playfully, a charming giggle bubbling up from her throat.

“It says here you call yourself,“ another giggle, this one a touch more malicious. “Come on, you mean to tell me you’re so generic that you couldn’t think of anything better than “The Storm’ as a moniker?”

The camera corrects itself once more to a full, upright view of Betsy’s amused expression.

“They say you can learn a lot about a person from a name they’ve chosen for themselves. Many people believe that naming themselves after a force of nature inspires fear in those around them. All I think of when I hear someone call themselves “Storm” is a walking catastrophe and ultimately, rather lackluster to what was promised. Perhaps it’s quite fitting that you consider yourself a natural disaster, because from what I’ve seen of you, the description is apt.”

Green eyes glitter with mirth, her grin becoming much more challenging now.

“It’s a good thing you’re pretty, because you have a long way to go before you reach my level, kiddo. It looks like you’ve got heart, I’ll give you that; I wish you had an ounce more brain and a lot less hot air blowing from your lips. I saw you in that battle royal, girlfriend… If you thought that was hard, you’re gonna hate me by the time our dance is done.”

Her tone flits between mocking and challenging as she continues.

“How does it feel, knowing that you’re little more than a warm-up for me, a trivial little test from the higher-ups to make sure I haven’t lost my step in the ring? Are you even aware of what the bookers have done to you this week?”

The expression changes to one of sympathy as Betsy’s eyes soften, and the mocking grin becomes a more genuine smile.

“Listen Stormy Daniels-Hixx, in the grand scheme of things, I’ve got no problems, no qualms against you. The only reason you’re even a blip on my radar is because someone upstairs decided they wanted you to have a bad day. I’m merely telling you the truth by letting you know just what and who you’re dealing with come Monday. I used to think I was the nice girl, the woman who could save the world and everyone in it… But I was wrong.”

Her entire demeanor intensifies as her expression hardens once again.

“I may not be the villain of the story, but life has forced me to see that neither am I the hero, in my story or anyone else’s. And I’m done pretending to be… Oh, calm down, this isn’t a heel turn.” A nervous, short laugh follows this. “But if my time away has taught me anything, it’s that sometimes… Bending the rules in your favor is not only necessary… but the best kind of fun, as well.”

Betsy pauses at this, her eyes glazing over for a few seconds as she loses herself to her thoughts. A cool gust of breeze brushes her hair across her face. Her voice is dreamy and distant when she speaks.

“Don’t let this discourage you from attempting great things, Stormy. If you believe you can do it, then one day, maybe you will. Shit, eight years ago, I was just some dumb college kid, sitting in Section B of the local Indy wrestling show that was held on campus. I dared to dream that I could do that someday, and I’ll be damned if I didn’t make that happen. There’s nothing to say that you can’t do the same.”

Snapping back to the moment at hand, Betsy smiles charmingly into the camera.

“Just don’t put your hopes on that part of your journey starting at Warfare. You still have to attempt to get through me, and I’m afraid THAT is just not in the cards for you, babes. But hey, chin up; there’s always the next opponent, am I right?”

Giving the camera a dramatic wink and a thumb up, complimented by a broad smile, Betsy blows a kiss before cutting the stream.

//

Clutching the mop she'd repurposed for a weapon, Betsy crept down the hallway. She had finally managed to escape the broom closet after a crash somewhere to her right caused the two groups of armed aliens to book it in that direction. Knowing in her heart that the crash had to do with the person who’d sent the distress signal, Betsy had waited for five minutes before leaving the closet and following where all the commotion was coming from. Once or twice, she’d almost crept up on a straggler or two at the back of the group, but her survival mode was fully activated now.

Female shouts suddenly poured from the door to her left, causing Betsy to nearly jump through the ceiling. But the inflection was unmistakable; this was the same person who had sent the SOS. Laser pistols could be heard blasting from every point in the room. Looking down at the pathetic make-shift weapon she carried, Betsy groaned as she looked up towards the heavens. She’d been in some tough spots before, but this one was shaping up to be a top tenner.

Before she could move again, the door was pushed out from its frame and landed fully on top of Betsy. A shriek of pain and indignation escaped her as Besty was shoved to the ground, the door on top of her. Whoever had been on the other side was still lying on top of it, adding weight down on Betsy’s body. She could feel her breathing getting heavy from the weight of the door against her chest. Desperate now, she balls up her fist and slams it as hard as she can against the door, making as much noise as possible.

The unmistakable sound of a female voice saying, “Oh shit!”; the next moment, to Betsy’s sweetest relief, the extra weight is removed, followed by the door itself. Wheezing, Betsy desperately gulps in great gasps of air. She manages to lift herself to her knees and looks up at the figure standing before her. Aegean blue eyes stare down at her, wide in shock despite the grin that has spread across the divinely beautiful face.

“You again?!” both women say in unison.

A moment passes as they stare at each other before they both burst into inappropriate laughter. Izzy helps Betsy to her feet. Once she’s sure Betsy is steady, Izzy claps her on the shoulder; Betsy never gets to return the gesture. She opens her mouth, but a laser beam shoots past her face, missing by mere inches. This snaps Betsy out of her fog, and she begins dashing away, keeping pace with Izzy. The two begin to chat breathlessly as they run, Betsy grabbing Izzy’s hand to pull her in the direction of Excellence.

“What the fuck did you get into THIS time?!” Betsy asks incredulously, her head swimming with a million thoughts.

Izzy gives Betsy a cheeky grin. “These fish fuckers stole something of mine, so I decided to take it back.”

“Right on their own base of operations, at full capacity? You’re either sloppy as fuck or whatever they took means the world to you.” Betsy croaks, her lungs still recovering.

Izzy clutches at something against her chest before replying. “It’s more important to me than life itself. I’ll catch you up on everything once we’re on that nifty little ship of yours.”

Her curiosity alone was enough to ensure they survived the trip back to Excellence. Then she remembered, with a rueful expression to Izzy, she confessed her blunder.

“All my shit is on Excellence, by the way. I kinda forgot it in all the excitement.”

“Who’s the sloppy one now?” Izzy quips, flashing a dazzling smile that makes Betsy’s heart flutter. “Lazerella never leaves my person.” Izzy pushes her deep blue duster jacket aside to show Betsy the unique laser pistol holstered at her hip.

Once again, Betsy found herself hypnotized by her mysterious companion, having now run into Izzy twice. It wasn’t lost on her that both had been rescues of a variety, having been pulled in by the call Izzy would send out. Just as they managed to break down the door (it had been locked after the first alarms sounded), two groups of fish-people with weapons came from each side of the hallway. Betsy gets pushed through the door by Izzy, who uses her free hand to whip out her laser pistol. Managing to keep on her feet, Betsy makes a mad dash towards Excellence. She bursts through the doors and runs straight over to the console, grabbing up her lightsaber and getting back out to the chaos.

Betsy is impressed to see how many bodies Izzy has put down with her scary, impressive accuracy with her weapon. Rushing towards her, Betsy covers her companion with the lightsaber, blocking as much of the enemy fire as she can. Pain surges through her again, reminding her of the weight her body had taken when the door crashed on top of her. Working back-to-back, Betsy deflected fire while Izzy shot her own out towards the fish-folks until finally, their shoulders bumped into the side of Excellence. Glancing to her left, Betsy saw the doors she’d left open; grabbing Izzy by the arm, she pulled them both inside.

They both fell inside, Izzy kicking the door shut in desperation as fish-folk started to dash towards them. Betsy scrambles to her feet and races to the navigation pad, pushing buttons and pulling levers. Izzy slowly backs her way up the ramp; her gun pointed towards the doors as the fish-folk begin to slam themselves against it.

“How much longer, Blondie?” Izzy hisses.

“Just.. one… second!” As she finishes saying this, Excellence gives a heaving groan and begins to dematerialize.

An unexpected lurch sends them both careening across this engine room; Betsy cusses loudly, rubbing her head as she crawls back to the center of the room. Excellence lurches again, but Betsy manages to grab a hold of the control center and hangs on for dear life. Izzy isn’t so lucky, as she is sent crashing to the opposite side of the ship. Betsy yells for her to hang on, and she slams down on the big red emergency button, sending them on an unsteady, dangerous ride straight into the time vortex…

//

From her bed, Betsy’s eyes snap open wide, and she sits up with a loud gasp. Her body is tense and coiled, ready to fight as she springs up to her feet in a defensive position. Her book and water cup are sent crashing to the floor, the glass shattering and splitting through the silence of the night. A moment later, Joel peeks his head into her room, his eyes full of concern.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” he asks as Betsy begins plucking pieces of glass from the floor.

“I’m fine, Papa, just… Just another weird dream, is all…” Her voice trails off as she collects as many of the shards as she can and deposits them into the little trash bin by the door.

Joel watches her silently before disappearing; a minute later, he returns with a broom and dustpan in his hand. Betsy reaches out to take them, but Joel waves her away and cleans up the mess himself. Betsy watches him, her eyes and heart filled with love for the man she is lucky to call her father. Once he’s done, he sets aside the broom and dustpan and sits down next to Betsy. He runs his thumb down her cheek before giving her a hug and a kiss on the top of her head.

“I know you’ll tell me everything you went through out there,“ he gestures a hand towards the window to indicate the great beyond. “In time, when you’re ready. Just know, I worry about you… Are you happy, going back there?”

His meaning wasn’t lost on Betsy, and she sighs heavily.

“Happy isn’t the right word…  bittersweet is more on point.” She tries to smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “But I have things to do, things to fix, and a lot of them start there… So for better or worse, it’s off to XWF I go.”

“Then give 'em hell, kiddo,” Joel says, kissing his daughter on her forehead and wishing her goodnight.

Betsy watches him go, her eyes lingering on the door as she settles back into her bed. The same excitement didn’t burn in her belly the way it had before when she thought about getting back into action. Troubled by this, she closes her eyes, allowing a restless sleep to fall over her…