November 23rd, 2020
Toronto
On-Camera

The home office of James Raven is currently occupied by the aforementioned People’s G.O.A.T., as well as his girlfriend, Betsy Granger, their friend, Genevieve Tate, and a select few of the XWF camera crew. They’ve already started rolling silently, so have a seat and take in the scene. Genie, dressed in a fashionable blue pantsuit, stands behind an old fashioned movie reel. James stands off to the side in the shadows, arms crossed over his chest. Betsy sits in a folding chair, dressed down in Snoopy exercise pants and a red hoodie, front and center to the screen.

“So we've heard from all three women,” Genie begins, fidgeting with the clicker in her hand. “Ash Quinn is... A thing, but Jenny Myst and Geri Vayden certainly had some choice things to say.”

“Nothing too terrible, I hope?” Betsy asks, though there’s a slight quiver in her tone.

“About what you’d expect. Both women question why you’re in the match and assume they know who you are based off of nothing but a few guesses in the dark and their own insecurities.”

“Or the knowledge that I’m the newcomer who found herself in a match she never even asked for.” Betsy says, visibly concerned.

“You wouldn’t have been selected if the bookers didn’t think you were capable of keeping up with the other three. Remember, they brought this opportunity to you. I didn’t pull strings or sell you to them to make it happen.” James chimes in, kicking himself away from the wall and sitting down next to his anxious lady. “You need to relax and just let things fall into the place. They will.”

“It’s just a bit nerve-wracking still… Neither of them are wrong in saying that I don’t belong in the match. On a low level, I agree. It’s just the rest of the stuff they said… Jenny with her asinine cheapshots, Geri trying to get into my head… It’s just not…”

“Nice?” Genie finishes Betsy’s sentence, spitting out the last word as though it left a foul taste in her mouth. “Of course they aren’t going to play nice, that’s not what they are here for. Those women came to win. Do you want to win this match and the Shooting Star championship, or do you want to try in vain to make a new friend? Don’t be afraid to sling a little mud their way if necessary. You have to show them that you won’t let them walk all over you. Don’t give them the chance to define who you are… SHOW them.”

Leaning forward, Betsy plants her elbows into her thighs, resting her head in her hands. The three of them re-watch Geri’s promo again, specifically the section where she addresses Betsy directly. As the words invade Betsy’s mind again, she sighs and shakes her head. “I’m going to have to get my hands dirty.”

“Not necessarily.” Genie pauses the movie reel and daydreams for a moment as she thinks. “Jenny is so focused on winning this match for all the wrong reasons. She claims to be the best female athlete in the world and that she isn’t doing this for anyone but herself. Yet, she obsesses over what everyone seems to think of her and all the ways that want to see her fail. Eventually, she’ll trip over her own feet, so to speak.”

“But a little push along the way to ensure she faceplants wouldn’t hurt, either.” Betsy pipes in. Genie smiles and nods her head.

“Exactly.”

“Still… I don’t think Jenny is as bad as she’s made out to be. I get the impression of a desperate woman who is still trying to turn her life around. Her intentions are good, but she’s already on a path to hell. She throws out mediocre insults and calls herself a queen because she needs to believe she’s better than the rest. It’s kind of sad, when you think about it. She wants to be better, but she doesn’t know how. She thinks clinging to the Shooting Star championship and belittling the other women around her will make her a more viable threat. Although... “

Betsy lets her voice trail off, green eyes sweeping around the room as she attempts to suppress a smirk

“I do find it comical, for someone who can’t find a more creative title than ‘queen’, to comment on how generic my name is. Really, Jenny… You too, Geri.” Betsy leans backwards in her chair, eyeing up the camera. “If I had a nickel for every ‘queen’ I’ve met on this planet, even the universe itself, I’d own all of Europe and most of Asia. If either of you are really as good as you say you are, you should aspire to be something greater. Or at least show a crumb of originality. However, if it pleases your highnesses, I have a selection of nicknames I’ve been given over time and space that you may choose from. The most common is Bets, but that’s probably too boring for you. I’ve also gone by Danger Granger, QuaterBetsy, and Brainy Betsy. All of those are pretty meh though, right? Then there’s my personal favorite, which came from a rather extraordinary friend of mine. They showed me sights, sounds, smells, and tastes I could have never imagined. She was always rather fond of Italian, though. All three of you may call me Il Viadante.”

Betsy’s face takes on a sort of melancholy as she reminisces. Her eyes stare off into nothing, clearly seeing a memory unfold that no one else was privy to. Finally, she smiles softly and looks back into the camera.

“The entire designation was ‘Lei che cammina tra le stelle’, but that was a mouthful for even the most skilled ring announcer. After much thought, I changed it to something I found to be much more apt for myself. The Wanderer. Remember, Jenny, Geri and Ash… Not all who wander are lost. With that said, Jenny… Good lord, where do I even start unpacking this mess?”

Betsy bites her lip and taps her finger for a few moments. She finally chuckles.

“I’ve got news for you, champ. Your days holding that belt are numbered. It’s literally written in my nickname that I’m walking out of High Stakes with the Shooting Star title. You may have a particular method in which you get things done, but I’ll never stoop to your level of doing things. You can say whatever ridiculous shit you want to try and insult me. It’s juvenile at best, and is further proof of your mediocrity. You wear an air of entitlement around you like armor, you’ve made the title belt your security blanket. I find you to be insufferably whiny for someone who doesn’t care what others think of her. You couldn’t have said more times that you’re doing this for you; so why do you still care so much about how people are trying to label you and keep you down? Lawd, the way you ramble on about it, it clearly consumes you to the deepest depths of your being. No queen would ever air that much dirt about herself, would never shame herself so publicly. Enjoy your final days as the champion, Jenny. If you want to be a queen, I’m happy to oblige. You’ll be Marie Antoninette and I’ll be the guillotine.”

Betsy finally silences and hoists herself back into a sitting position. James and Genie look at one another and grin. No two people knew Betsy Granger better these days, and anyone who knew Betsy knew this was a sign that the fire was being lit from within. Indeed, there were sparks in Betsy’s eyes now as she turned to straddle the chair, looking right into the camera now.

“And then there’s Geri Vayden, who has made her opinion of me implicitly explicit. The shroud of mystery has dissipated and what did I find? Just another self-proclaimed queen. How disappointing.”

Betsy contorts her face into an absurd sad clown smile, but doesn’t hold it for very long.

“You know something, toots? I’m glad you seem to think so little of me. I’m stoked that you’ve written me off as a nobody, a never-was, and completely irrelevant. Please, continue to underestimate me at every turn.”

Betsy cracks her knuckles and neck.

“I’ll give a little. Yes, I have attempted wrestling twice. And yes, both times, circumstances forced me to quit. But let me assure you of something, Geri dear. Never did those circumstances include lacking the skill necessary to kick ass, take names, and win titles.”

Betsy’s face grows dark as she begins looking inward again.

“I haven’t always been who I am now, Geri. I hate failing. I’ve always been top of the class, no matter where I was. Everything I touched turned to gold under my fingers. Except for wrestling. Two times, I tried. Two times, I went down in flames. I was fragile of mind, you see. I was so young, had gone through life so quickly. I thought I could handle something like this… Oh, I was so wrong. I admit that now. My talents were light years beyond my psyche… Until now.”

The grin that slowly crosses Betsy’s face is uncharacteristically malevolent.

“I spent some time wandering. I saw things you couldn’t even imagine. When you reach the stars, you’re bound to pick up a thing or two. I trained with the best to ease my troubled mind and you’d be amazed at how liberating letting go of your fears can be. The ability to battle them off when they threaten to creep in… What a power. A power that no one can ever take away from you. If I’ve rambled off course a bit, let me get us both back on track. The point I’m making here is that nothing you can say is going to take away from my ability to make you eat your words.”

Betsy lowers her hood, revealing her long, thick hair in a golden braid. A come and get me grin lights up her entire face.

“If you really think pinning me is going to be a cakewalk, I dare you to try. You know, I was actually looking forward to pinning the champ directly to take the weight of the gold off her shoulders. Let her take a vacation and relax a bit, you know? Let go of some of that anger. Yet, I now find myself thinking that making you tap out in the center of the ring could be just as sweet. Of course, Jenny will take advantage of the situation for her rematch. Something tells me that girl is an obsessive workaholic. I can deal with all that. But you can’t even be honest about wanting the championship. First you don’t give a shit about whether you win the title or not. The championship is beneath you and you belong at the top. Next minute, you refuse to lose and you’ll do whatever it takes to win. Flip flop, wishy washy. Girl, you really need to sort out your priorities. Do you want the thing or not? Because I do. I thought I’d be content just making a splash, getting my name out there. But the more I train, the more I focus… I’ll do what it takes. My star is only just beginning to rise. And I want you to be the first one I extinguish on my way upward. I’ll bask in the melody of your screams as I stretch you past the point the body is supposed to go… I do believe that would be the perfect melody to go with the ‘tap tap tap’ of your defeat. You want to be a queen, Anne Boleyn? Have at thee, but you’ve just met the executioner's sword.”

Betsy pauses briefly, a look mingled with confusion and amusement crossing her face.


“Ash… Girl… Why are you even here? Quite frankly, you’ve been the most unremarkable thus far. I’ve been doing my homework and… Okay, look. I know I’m the new kid, but I feel like I’ve got a better reason for being here than you do. What have you actually done with your career? A large part of me thinks your overpaid, glorified eye-candy. When I study Jenny Myst and Geri Vayden, I see actual threats. Athletes of accomplishment. Women of note who will be remembered through time. When I see you, I see someone who looks out of place. You talk a big game, but I’ve seen little to prove it means much. I mean, I don’t know you and honestly, I have no ill will towards you. But having you in no this match seems like a colossal waste of space. Any of the three of us could make quick work of you, with plenty of energy to spare. I think Geri came after the wrong competitor when she spoke of a non-factor and a never-was. I don’t think I have a full year in the business between my two former stints, and I still have more acclaim than you did on your best days. There’ll be no worrying about any rookie mistakes when it comes to you. I almost feel bad for you… Almost. But if I had to pick which of the three I’d want to defeat, it would never be you. Pinning you would be like shooting fish in a barrell. No one would remember it in 24 hours and the victory would be hollowed for it.”

Betsy scrunches up her nose.

“I can’t do it anymore, I’m wasting words on this one. I sort of hope she comes out swinging and proves me wrong. Until then, I need to focus on the bigger picture. Four corners match means I’m going to have to fight my way into the ring every chance I get.”

Genie grins and nods eagerly, snapping out of her reverie. “As to that, I have some training ideas. I thought I’d run them by you and James and see what we can do. Gregor and Armond are ready and waiting to jump in and assist in your training again.”

Later, Off-Camera

“Laser tag? Really, Genie?” James has a chuckle in his tone as he and Betsy exchange an amused glance.

Genie, Gregor, and Armond are already gearing up for battle. The young attendant comes over and hands Betsy and Raven their vests. Betsy slips into purple armor and picks up the purple laser gun.

“I appreciate the thought, but what does this have to do with my match?” Betsy asked, utterly perplexed.

For the first time in days, Genevieve’s natural mischievous grin returns to her face and she shrugs. “Nothing at all. I just thought it would be a fun way to let loose and relax while getting in a little cardio. I know the owners, and they owe me a few favors. I have the entire complex rented out for just the six of us.”

“Six?” Betsy and James say in unison.

Genie only smirks and finishes helping Gregor and Armond strap on their armor. James and Betsy share a confused expression unaware the query had seemingly become an invocation.

"Hello Doves." From behind a scent of ivory and rose permeated air and was followed close by the sprightly rasp of Atara Themis.

“Atty!” Betsy lets out a gleeful shriek and rushes over to hug her friend. Atara lets out a throaty chuckle.

“It’s good to see you too, darling.” Atara catches Betsy by her elbows and pulls her in for a slight hug, kissing each of Betsy’s cheeks. Betsy returns the kisses and leads her over to where James is standing.

“It seems we have an Atty for our team.” Betsy beams at the prospect.

James gives the women an appraising look as Betsy assists Atara into her gear. “You two don’t make a bad looking pair, if you don’t mind my saying. Tag gold would look good on you.”

“Competition for Legacy?” Betsy quips, a sly grin crossing her face as she glances over at James with an eyebrow arched.

“HA!” he exclaims, tossing his head back for a moment before winking to the two shooting stars, “I’m smart enough to recognize bait when I see it. I have no doubt you two would be competition for anyone unfortunate enough to be lined up against you.”

“Aaaaaand?” Betsy presses sweetly.

“And that includes Legacy,” he relents with a soft sigh, pulling down a blue gun and blue armored vest from the racks and pulling the ensemble around his shoulders.

“Damn straight,” Atara says staunchly.

“Easy, Wonder Woman, this is a friendly gathering,” James shoots back, pointing a finger at Atara before shifting focus to Betsy and offering her a quick pregame kiss, “Now. I’d like to go shoot someone I’m pretending is Jenny Myst, please.”

“Pew pew pew, it’s time to blast some nerf herders!” Betsy lets loose a Xena style war scream before disappearing in the darkness. James, Genie, and Atara all exchange an amused glance before following her in.