“Have faith, my followers in Christ, for they have seized the consorts of the Witch!” A priest passionately fires up his flock. “They are headed for the Tower and will burn with their Mistress of Hell.”

From beneath the emerald-colored Ford Ranchero she had just gotten out of, the tree (thank you, Vortex Manipulator, muah!), Betsy Granger hears the priest's yells carry from the little town just outside the heart of London. Panic and exasperation flood through her in unison as she groans and runs her grease-covered hands down her face.

“At least they’re gathered,” she mutters, the weakest of silver linings.

Her brain was already formulating a rescue plan. Sliding back under the truck, she stabs her sonic wand in a few spots that required minor fixes after the landing it took. Satisfied the vehicle would work for its occupant, she shimmied from underneath, wiping her hands and face on the cloak she’d stolen from the farm of a peasant. Getting to her feet, she swings it over her shoulders and hides her face and hair.

Tucking away the sonic, she makes her way cautiously towards the road that would take her into London. She could already see the Thames rumbling along, royal barges and simple little fishing boats sharing the water. The Tower of London loomed in the distance, where it seemed to hold her War Games crew now.

“I wonder if I could convince Henry to give them a royal pardon?” she muses as she walks near the priest and his faithful.

“They say the Witch is deceptively golden and lovely,” whispers a woman to her husband. “A veil to hide the ugliness of her soul.”

Betsy holds back a snort as she scoots past them, ignoring the less-than-complimentary commentary from the small crowd. When she turns the corner, the poster on the rickety wood building makes her stop dead in her tracks. Her sketched face stares back at her, an admirable likeness, one must admit. After she mentally calculated the bounty on her head, she pondered turning herself in. Tearing down the wanted poster, she rolls it up and shoves it into her cloak pocket before moving along the stone road towards the Tower of London.

The town reeked with a variety of aromas as peddlers shouted their wares and guards marched through the streets. The latter had the same wanted posters that Betsy had just acquired as a souvenir; she watched as they stopped several people on the street and asked if they’d seen her. Panic stabs at her as the guards get closer; thinking fast, she grabs a dishevelled-looking man by his shirt and drags him into an alley with her.

“Crazy bitch, release me!” he cries, struggling against her.

Feigning an accent, Betsy presses herself against him suggestively. “If you come with me, I can give you pleasures you never thought to seek.”

This changes his tune as he wraps an arm around her waist and allows her to lead him to a private alley near the Tower. As he turns to put his hands on her breasts, she claps his temples hard; he drops to the ground instantly. Looking towards the Tower, her heart quickens; if only she’d had Excellence, this rescue, fuck, the entire mission, would have gone a lot smoother.

“Sit tight, fellas,” she whispers to herself as she approaches the massive walls that surround the Tower itself. Locating the entrance, she pauses for a few moments, taking several deep breaths. “I’m on my way.”

***

In the distance, we see Barney Green trapped in a cell. The one-eyed bruiser from Boston, which doesn’t even exist yet. He is munching on a turkey leg that he managed to sneak into this dimly lit place.

“What can I do to get out of this? Brigid, I am a willing vessel for this escape.”

Barney is just wandering the cell, looking for a shot at escaping. “Damn. Who knew people in the 1400s could build such a quality cell? Here I was thinking that we were amazing. This is some quality stuff right here.”

He nibbles on his turkey leg, still admiring the woodwork of his prison cell, when he hears a commotion from outside.

"TIS THE WITCH; SEIZE HER!"

Barney freezes mid-nibble, focusing on the words being yelled. The witch? Could that be Betsy? Or one of the other guys on the team? His brain races as he discards the turkey, pulling the chair over to the small window placed high up towards the ceiling. Even on the chair and tippytoes, he could barely look out. The chaos that greeted him confirmed his first instinct was correct. A streak of blonde hair parries through the guards, her more petite, lithe frame able to gracefully dodge and weave through the knights in their bulky armor.

As though she could feel his eyes following her every move, the figure pauses for the briefest of moments and green eyes glance up his way. Barney waves through the window bars before Betsy continues her way in on light feet. When he turns back around, his eyes land on the turkey leg he had thrown away. Now he picks it up and examines it, dusting it off as much as he can. Then the smell of stale, years-old piss wafts through his nose again, causing him to throw away the turkey leg for good.

Muffled crashes and men's yells floated up to Barney's cell from down below. He's unable to keep the grin off his face, as it's evident that Betsy was single-handedly getting the best of his jailors. The noises grew ever louder as Betsy approached his cell; a few moments later, he could hear her voice.

"Seb? Barney? Corey? Are any of you nearby?" Her usual cheerful tone was dripping with tension.

"In here, Bets!" Barney calls out, balling up a fist and banging on the door of the cell. "I'm right over here."

The sound of keys jangling can be heard outside his door. A moment later, Betsy is peering in at him from the doorway. Her lips are pursed, and she's got a large ring of keys in one hand and a rapier in the other.

"C'mon, legend, we still have to go find the other two," Betsy says after a few moments, her expression finally softening.

With a nod of agreement, Barney happily follows Betsy to the next row of stone cells...

***


“How do I have a signal?” Seb asked, looking down at his phone, which proudly showed five bars. He groaned as he looked around his cell, the door sealed shut, and bars on the small windows.

It smelled like piss - the previous guest had decided that he didn’t need to aim inside the saturated bucket in the corner. Seb dialled a saved number.

“Hello, Jack? I find myself in something of a pickle - could you call me back, please? I need someone to get me out of a cell. Yes, in 1485,” said Seb. “Speak soon.”

He hung up the phone and leaned back against the wall. On his way to the cell, he’d been reliably informed that the “witch” had been captured, along with two other “warlocks”. Clearly, they were doing incredibly well with their little jaunt into history.

“Fucking brilliant,” he said. “How exactly am I supposed to be the all-conquering hero and save the distressing damsel when I’m locked in here?”

His phone beeped - a text message from Jack.

"How the fuck did you get caught already? I just dropped you off 15 minutes ago.
The Buick won't fit in there, you moron - so you'll have to get out yourself, then I'll come pick you up.
You really are useless."

“Wow, rude,” he said, before pushing his phone back into his pocket, “Alright, Seb - think. You need to find your way out of this cell, get Betsy, Corey, and Barney released, and then find somewhere for Jack to pick you all up in the Buick… Nice and easy…”

Except it really wasn’t easy at all. Because how the fuck was he meant to do anything with just his… Phone… An idea blossomed in his mind.

He quickly got to his feet and walked to the cell door - through the bars, he called to the guard.

“Hello there,” said Seb.

“Away from the door, Warlock!” said the man.

“But, I have something that might interest you,” said Seb. He held his phone tightly as he pushed it through the bars.

“Magic wielder! Evil doer!” said the guard.

“No, no, no,” said Seb. “This is Twitter! Well… Technically… X these days. And, now that I come to think about it, yes, it is inherently evil. BUT, this specifically isn’t… These… Are THOT pics…”

“So much… Evil…” said the guard, tilting his head. “Is there… Anymore… Evil?”

“So much evil,” said Seb. “Just open up the door, and I’ll show you all the evil you could ever want…”

“I don’t know if I…” began the guard, before there was a loud thud, and he fell forward onto the ground. Seb’s eyes widened as a figure in a hood stepped forward, pulling it back to reveal…

“Betsy!” said Seb. “I’m here to save you!”

“You’re doing a brilliant job, sweetie,” said the Wayward Wanderer herself. “Let me unlock this door, and you can start trying to save me from there, alright?”

“Fuck sake,” said Seb. “Yes, fine, but let’s be quick - and don’t tell Corey I was showing him Amber's Twitter account…”

Betsy began to chuckle as she started to unlock the door.

***

Elsewhere, a soldier begins his shift standing against a wooden door. He leans on the stone wall beside this door, swinging a spear around and pretending he's actually good at it. From a tray slot three-quarters of the way down the door, Corey Black's eyes roll.

Inside, he stands up and walks over to the dirty blanket provided. A mound of dirt seems to form his bed, and there's just a single ray of light shining into his cell.

"Honestly, guard dude, this is kind of my aesthetic." Corey says, trying to get the guard's attention, "Just get me a Slayer poster and I'm good to go."

"SILENCE, WARLOCK, DO NOT USE YOUR MAGICS UPON ME!" screams the guard, causing Corey to burst out in laughter for a moment. Then he stops, his brain kicking in.

"You want to release me," Corey begins, slowly putting his hand out of the slot. "The keys to this place would be very beneficial in protecting your life."

Nothing happens. Of course it doesn't, that's not magic, that's just.. Corey pulls his phone out and loads up a saved song. He hits play on motherfucking "Angel of Death" by Slayer.

"IT IS UNLIKE ANYTHING I HAVE EVER HEARD, YOU HEATHEN, YOU.. DEMONIC ENTITY!" The guard has an absolute freakout, throws his hands over his ears, and runs as fast as he can as thrash metal echoes through this bleak dungeon.

"Haha, hell yeah," Corey says with a chuckle, before pulling on the door. It cracks open. "Oh, these fucking dipshits didn't even lock this!?"

There's a wooden plank stretched across the doorway as if to keep a prisoner inside. "I guess I don't know when the mechanical lock was invented, but now I can see why people have never trusted the police."

Corey slowly crept out of his cell and out of the dungeon, noticing his teammates gathered in the distance. He waits until the coast is clear and darts over to them, surprising everyone.

"Hi guys, how the fuck did you all get out?!" Corey says, out of breath.

Barney smiles, "SEB showed them thot pictures of Amber."

SEB and Betsy's jaws drop as their heads crank toward Barney. Then slowly to Corey. SEB begins to speak, but Corey cuts him off.

"Shit, I should have thought of that, I'd have been out three guard changes ago," Corey says with a hint of sadness.

“Alright, everyone grab hold,” said Betsy, as she furiously poked at the Vortex Manipulator on her wrist.

“To WHAT!?” asked Seb.

“Me, obviously!” she said again.

“Are you sure about this? This is the kind of thing that leads to meetings with HR,” said Seb.

“Seb, buddy, pal- we’re on a bit of a time crunch here. Just hold tight to me,” said Betsy.

“Don’t need to ask me twice,” said Barney, grabbing Betsy by the arm.

“Just… No one tell Amber about this. I’ll never hear the fucking end of it…” said Corey, rolling his eyes as he grabbed hold of Betsy’s other arm. The flash of a camera has him turning his head to face Seb, who smirks.

“I have a feeling you might be doing me a favour or two,” said Seb.

“You’re such a prick,” said Corey.

“Sebastian Everett-Bryce, I am about to press this button and leave you the fuck behind. Suppose you do make it past the guards and the Shrek villagers, how do I explain leaving you behind?” snapped Betsy.

“Yeah, that probably wouldn’t go over well with some…,” said Seb, surveying her for a place to grab hold of that won’t end with him being put on a list. “I just… Can’t…”

“Oh my fuck, just hug me, bro,” said Betsy, “3… 2…”

“Fuck,” said Seb, as he lurched forward, and all four of them seemed to be compressed into a space that was clearly meant for one person. It was pretty cramped as they passed through the time vortex, and for a moment, this team of four was a single, solitary being.

Honestly - poor Betsy.

Fresh air hit all four of them, and Barney and Corey staggered backwards. The air was rent with the sound of clashing swords, yells of agony, and screams of fury. But above it all was the sound of a horse bellowing in terror. All four looked to their left just in time to see a horse rear onto its hind legs, having just witnessed four people materialise from thin air.

The man on its back also yelled in terror, not from their unexpected appearance. Instead, it was the feeling of falling that caused his yell of fear. The knight fell backwards from the horse and crashed down onto many discarded swords - with his helmet nowhere to be found, his head collided with a blade.

“Ouch,” said all four of them at the same time.

“Uh… Seb… You can let go now,” said Betsy. Seb turned his head back towards her, realising he still had both arms wrapped around her in a crushing embrace. There was another flash, and Seb glanced at Corey, who grinned.

“I’ll delete mine if you delete yours,” he said.

“Fucking hell,” said Seb. Who still hadn’t let go. “Sorry, Cap’n,”

Seb released her and stepped backwards.

“It’s fine,” said Betsy, her eyes suddenly finding a familiar face - one that she’d met earlier that same day. Or maybe, later that day, depending upon your perspective.

“Oh fuck,” said Barney as he recognised Henry Tudor striding towards them. “Think I can convince him that I’m Reginald Collins The Fifteenth?”

“I think we might be utterly, completely, and totally fucked,” said Corey.

“Maybe not,” said Betsy, a dawning realisation on her face.

Henry paused as he stood over the fallen man - he glanced down at them, and then back up at Betsy. He placed his foot upon the chest of the fallen man and raised his sword into the air.

“King Richard is dead! I claim these lands in the name of Tudor, by right of conquest!” he called. Betsy’s eyes flashed with an idea.

“The Usurper is dead. Long live the House of Tudor,” she called, her voice lowered to a growl. She nudged Barney.

“Oh… Right…” he said. “Long live the King!”

“Long live the King!” shouted Corey, before he lowered his voice and looked at Seb with a smirk. “Me, obviously.”

“Emperors are much better,” said Seb with his own smirk, before calling out. “Long live the King!”

Betsy steps between Corey and Seb, a cheeky grin on her face. She wraps an arm over each of their shoulder and pulls them in with a playful headlock. “Yeah, but gods are the best. Why rule a kingdom when we could build a pantheon?”

She gives them each a noogie before walking away, singing loudly and cheerfully.

And as the singular shouts became chants, the sound of swords started to disappear behind the joy of victory. And in the midst of the chaos, Betsy slowly led her Wayward Wanderers away from the field of battle.

__________________

“So,” said Seb, as the four of them stood looking over the ruins of Bosworth field, having watched Richard III’s forces scatter in the wake of their liege's death. “We killed Richard III.”

“Yup, pretty fucking cool,” said Corey.

“It is, until you realise that probably makes us technically responsible for Henry VIII,” said Barney. “And I’m not sure I want that on my conscience.”

“I’m pretty sure Henry would have won either way - Henry’s men surrounded us, otherwise I don’t think we’d have managed to walk away so easily,” said Betsy. “Still, it's kind of cool to know we were in the midst of history.”

“Okay, but does that mean we were always here to kill Richard III, or did we just get lucky and perpetuate what happened anyway?” asked Seb. “Like, are we an actual part of history, or did we just get really, really good seats to what actually happened?”

“You’re making my fucking head hurt,” said Corey.

“Yeah, I don’t think we need to be thinking this deeply about it,” said Barney. “Let's just assume everything happened as it was supposed to, and we didn’t fuck anything up.”

“I guess we’ll never know which one is true,” said Betsy, a knowing smile on her face. She turned to look at Seb, whose brow was furrowed. “What?”

“I did a project on Henry VII at school,” he said. “And something just came back to me… He had a daughter, Elizabeth. Named after her mother, but… She died when she was very young. And apparently, Henry was inconsolable when it happened…”

“Okay?” said Corey. “English king gets sad about his daughter dying…”

“Not very 'stiff upper lip', but not exactly shocking either,” said Barney.

“Yes, but she was his favourite child,” said Seb, tilting his head and looking at their Captain. “And he used to call her… Betsy…”

The Captain of the Wayward Wanders raised her eyebrows as she looked across Bosworth Field towards Crown Hill, where Henry VII was being crowned.

“I trust you can all get home from here?” she said, turning back to them, changing the subject quickly. They each nodded their confirmation. “Do you have the invitations I sent you?”

One by one, Corey, Seb, and Barney all pulled out the small cards and handed them to her.

“Awesome - saves me making new ones,” she said.

“Wait… You didn’t send them to us yet?!” Barney exclaimed. “If you don’t send the invites, we’ll never show up, and you’ll never need to save us!”

“And then maybe Richard III never dies…” said Corey. “So now you have to go back and invite us, just to make sure…”

Betsy offered him a nod of confirmation.

“Which means you don’t know whether you peaked while I was in the shower,” said Seb.

“Oh, Sebastian - after the way you grabbed me on our way here? I think I’m owed a peak…” said Betsy. Seb blushed. Actually blushed.

“Fuck - I think he’s actually speechless… You need to teach me how to do that,” said Corey.

Seb extended his middle finger as Betsy chuckled.

“I’ll see you all back here in about five hundred and forty years?” she said, punching her fingers against the vortex manipulator.

“Aye, aye, Captain,” said Corey, offering a lazy salute.

“Wouldn’t miss it, boss,” said Barney with a nod.

“Suppose I’m not doing anything more interesting,” said Seb with a smirk.

“Alright then, Wanderers, I’ll see you at War Games,” said Betsy. “And thank you… For coming when I ask.”

And with that, Betsy disappeared into nothingness, leaving Seb, Corey, and Barney standing in the middle of the field.

“So,” said Corey. “Which one of us is providing the ride back home?”

“I can’t promise my spell would get us all back in one piece,” said Barney.

“And I think the Ranchero might be stuck in a tree - or it went back home,” said Corey. “We could go check, I guess…”

“That settles it then - we just need to choose between a Ranchero in a tree and a Buick with an angry, insulting driver,” said Seb.

“Will he insult you?” asked Corey.

“Probably,” said Seb.

“Then I vote for that one,” said Barney.

“Me too,” said Corey.

“Brilliant,” said Seb, pulling out his phone and starting to type a text message. “Just fucking brilliant.”

The phone shows no signal at the moment. Seb angrily pockets the phone.

“Do you want me to try?” said Barney

Barney looked around at this motley group of people. None of them has a genuine connection to one another. Just knowing they got chosen by Betsy for War Games. Barney reaches into his pocket and still sees half the black candle left.

“We can try to get back in one piece, but I cannot guarantee we all arrive in the same area,” said Barney

“Where will we wind up?” asked Corey

“I tend to wind up in the most random of places. This time, I wound up in the crapper that wasn’t what you think of in a bathroom,” said Barney

“Just great.” Said Seb

They are just staring at the open field.

“Yeah, and I need to be a little more tipsy for it to work,” said Barney

“Where are we gonna find the mead?” asked Corey

Just then, a man walking by holding a bottle of Mead appears on the field. Barney quickly sneaks up behind the guy and knocks him out with quick precision. He grabs the bottle of mead.

“This should do. I think I can make it work.” Said Barney.

“Any other random things you need?” Asked Seb

Barney, Corey, and Seb start booking it out of that area.

“I think we should be good. Just find something like a mirror or shiny metal? Said Barney.

“Just get us out of here in one piece. I am not ready to die in the 1400s.” Said Corey.

They come across a shiny piece of metal leaning against a building. Barney takes a big gulp of the mead. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out the lighter. He quickly lights the candle.

“Brigid! I am calling for you to help get me and my friends back to our current time!” Shouts Barney

The sky starts to darken as we see a massive flash of light.

“What's happening, Barney?” Asks Seb

“We are willing hosts for your power, Brigid!” Shouts Barney

There is a huge flash as the world begins to shift.

“Just stay calm, Guys. We are coming back home.” Says Barney.

Barney walks through the flash, and we see him vanish, followed by Corey and then Seb. Who knows if they even truly make it back in time?