Pre-Recorded 1/19/2021

An XWF camera-crew is set up on a cheap soundstage that’s decorated to look like a gameshow. Two podiums are set up, the required six feet apart and two “contestants” stand behind them. An upbeat theme that sounded like it landed right out of the seventies begins to play and disembodied voices booms over the stage.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen and welcome to Guess… Who… Said It!”

A track of cheering people begins to play as the contestants begin to applaud.

“And now, here is your host… Betsy Graaaaaaaaaanger!”

Betsy dances out from backstage, dressed in a cute, black and pink polka-dotted skater dress. She flashes a megawatt smile at the “audience” and bows modestly, blowing kisses as she comes back up. She turns to the camera and gives it a cheeky smile.

“Hello friends, and welcome to another round of Guess Who Said It! Lets welcome today’s contestants, Kenna and Billy. The objective is simple: Keywords and clues will be given; each will be something one of my Snow Job opponents has said at least a thousand times by now and will definitely say again. Kenna and Billy will have the opportunity to ring in and tell us who they think said the line. Every correct answer is worth one hundred doll hairs. Every wrong answer… Well, honestly, that’s the bigger reward. It means you spared yourself the headache of listening to either of those banshees braying at the moon.”

With a smirk, Betsy turns towards the competitors and holds up the cue cards in her hand.

“Kenna… Billy… Good luck.”

Dramatic music plays as the lights shift to cast everything but Betsy and the contestants in the spotlight.

“Was it Geri Vayden or Jenny Myst who cleverly bestowed upon me the nickname ‘Miss Piggy’?”

Kenna is quick to buzz in. “Jenny Myst.” She says with absolute certainty. Betsy pauses dramatically before smiling.

“Jenny Myst is correct, one hundred smackaroos for Kenna. Next question: Who has been put on record as claiming they are better than I am, even though they have no actual wins over me?”

Kenna again. “Geri Vayden.”

Betsy grins. “Bonus points: What does she say the reasons for her losses are?”

“The time wasn’t right. It’s all a part of the plan. Looking ahead to her title match. Something, something, Left Hand.”

“Go ahead and give the girl two hundred more bucks. Question three: Who loves to claim technicalities as a way to deflect the fact that they know I’m better? This one has also used my relationship with James as a way to diminish my success.”

Finally Billy is quick to the buzzer. “Trick question, both of them have lobbed that low-hanging fruit your way.”

“Correct! Billy is on the board with a quick two hundo for seeing past my trickery. Question four: Who likes to call me Becky, and acts as though rudimentary insults are going to garner her any kind of serious attention or respect?”

The race to the buzzer is quick, but Billy manages to win. “Jenny Myst all day.”

“Jenny Myst all day indeed for another hundred and a tied score. This is the final question before the next round, where each correct answer is worth double. Now: Who is a walking contradiction that will talk about how much she doesn’t need the Left Hand one second, then go back to blindly worshipping her cult leaders the next?”

Kenna now. “Geri Vayden.”

“Scary Geri indeed. And so ends round one, with Kenna in a narrow lead. Round two begins after these messages.”

A promo for XWF Snow Job. Various superstar merchandise. Finally, the show returns.

“Welcome back to ‘Who’s Gonna Say It?’! Kenna and Billy went neck and neck in the first round, but the rules are about to change. In this round, I’ll ask each opponent a question in which they have ten seconds to answer. Should they guess incorrectly, the question jumps to the next player. If they answer, they win the points. Simple enough, yeah? Let’s begin: Kenna, Who is still crying over recently being a ‘dethroned queen?”

“That would be Jenny Myst.”

“Very good. Billy, How long was Jenny Mysts reign as champion?”

Billy starts to sweat above his brow. “Crap, I know it was over a hundred days… But I always tune her out… Umm…”

“We need an answer Billy.” The buzzer goes off. “Oooh, sorry about that. Kenna, the question goes to you.”

“Her reign lasted exactly one hundred and one days. It’s hard to miss, she obsesses over it.”

“Girl, tell me about it,” Betsy says snarkily. “Another hundred points to Kenna, making the score 500 to 300 now. Billy, I’m feeling a bit bad for you, so I’ll make you an offer: Answer this next question in detail and I’ll give you double points. Here we go: What are the actual odds of either of those two blithering idiots making it out of Snow Job with the Shooting Star Championship.”

Billy grins. “I’m going to have to go with a confident zero percent chance of those two getting past you.”

“Quite right you are, here are two hundred points for wisely kissing ass.”

Kenna looks ready to spit bullets. Betsy shrugs. “Calm down dear, and focus on your next question, which is: Who has made it a point to no-sell and make light of me up until this point, even after I crushed her in that cage?”

Kenna grins. “That would be every bit of Geri Vayden. And if I may say, I’d like to tell her just where she can stick that left hand of hers.”

Betsy makes a perfect O shape with her lips as she feigns shock.“My, my, I like that fire, Kenna! And, incidentally, you are correct. Alright kids, last question! Ring in if you know it, worth five hundred points and the game! Sudden Death for the win, because I can!”

Kenna and Bill grip their buzzers tightly. Betsy pauses for dramatic effect then draws herself to her full five foot nine inches.

“Who has made it clear that no matter what they say; nay, no matter what they try, they’ll never make it out of Snow Job unscathed? That no matter how tightly one grips the title in her slimy, goat blood-covered hands or the other obsesses over repossession and her own reflection, neither will walk out with the belt? Who finishes what she started at High Stakes on January thirty-first?”

Both contestants look slightly unnerved at the hard glint in Betsy’s eye. Hesitantly, Kenna buzzes in. The sound snaps Betsy out of her fog and she smiles.

“I believe the answer to that is the Impossible Traveler, Betsy Granger.”

“Winner winner, chicken dinner. Congratulations Kenna, you’ve won today’s game of Guess Who Said It!”

Kenna hops up and down excitedly, joining Betsy on the stage. They shake hands as Billy slowly sulks over. The two contestants shake hands and begin to talk as Betsy turns back to the camera.

“As always, welcome for joining us tonight. We hope you had as much fun as we did and be sure to tune in to XWF: Snow Job, coming to you live from Green Bay on January 31st, only on Pay-Per-View! Good night, everybody!”

Betsy waves exuberantly at the camera and turns back to chatter with the contestants as the credits roll across the screen. Finally, the production logo flashes against a black screen.

Part 2: Confront Your Corruption

“It’s as unwise as it is dangerous. Completely out of the question. And you, Vivienne… I’m surprised you would even consider such a request. Especially with someone untrained and untested in the arts of the Goddess.”

Sitting in Vivienne’s private tent, Betsy, the aforementioned Priestess, and the High Merlin himself, Ambrosius sat together in a circle of wooden chairs. The acrid smoke of Ambrosius’s tobacco tickled Betsy’s nose. Ignoring it, she presses her palms into her knees and leans forward. Vivienne had just informed Ambrosius as to what Betsy wanted to do and he was less than keen on the idea. She opens her mouth to make her appeal, but Vivienne raises a hand to silence her. Vivienne and Ambrosious are embroiled in an intense staredown.

“Were she not up to the task,” Vivienne said in a measured tone, “I would have never considered allowing this.”

Ambrosius considers Vivienne with a stern expression. “You should have come straight to me. This request should have never made it this far.”

Vivienne’s dark eyes flash and she draws her power to herself. She suddenly looms tall and intimidating, her very presence filling up the room. “You forget yourself, my dear friend. We grew up together, we studied together. But it is I who have been chosen as the Lady of the Lake; therefore, it is I who will decide whether Betsy is up to the ritual.”

Vivienne climbs out of her chair and approaches Betsy. Taking her hand, she stands Betsy up and scrutinizes her. “What you’re asking me to perform will not be easy on you. It will tax you, mentally and physically. You’ll be forced to confront every shred of corruption and rot that festers within your soul; It’ll be up to you to cast them out to allow the ritual to work. I promise you this, child,” Vivienne said, a foreboding tone in her voice now. “This is not going to be easy, even for a mind as strong as yours. Many have had their minds broken when they realize just how evil their souls had become. Are you absolutely certain this is what you want?”

Betsy nods determinedly and gives Vivienne’s hand a gentle squeeze. She then shifts her emerald eyes to The Merlin, who is watching her every move. “I know you don’t approve, and I don’t blame you. I know what I’m asking for and I know what the potential cost for it is. I’m prepared to pay that price; though, I wouldn’t be asking for this cleansing at all if I didn’t think it was a necessary step in my personal evolution. I’ve allowed my mind and soul to become clouded and I’ve lost sight of my true dreams and goals. It’s time to get back on track.”

Green eyes still bright with youth hold a steady gaze with the older, wiser blue eyes of Ambrosius. Finally, he sighs and sits back in his chair, puffing on his clay pipe. Looking pleased, Vivienne loudly claps her hands twice. A young maiden who was the very image of Vivienne enters the tent and greets everyone respectfully. Though she keeps her face neutral, Betsy could tell the young priestess wanted to study her. She turns her head to hide a slight smile. Vivienne gestures towards the young maiden, who obediently moves to Vivienne’s side.

“This is my niece, Morgana,” Vivienne said, gently touching the young girl’s wild curls. “She recently joined us here on the Isle to begin her training. I selected her personally to be your guide about the island.”

Betsy bestows a friendly smile on the girl who’s lips quirk upward briefly. Vivienne leans in and whispers something to the girl. Whatever it was, Morgana’s eyes grew wide and her indifference quickly changed to avid interest. Rushing forward, she takes Betsy by the arm and gently tugs her towards the flaps of the tent. “My Lady would be pleased if I were to show you to your quarters, so that you may wash up and change before dinner.”

Nodding agreeably, Betsy gives out her farewells to the High Priestess and The Merlin and follows Morgana. Before they can leave, Vivienne’s voice rings out strong and clear.

“Tomorrow night, under the light of the waning moon, your cleansing begins. Be at the Tor by sundown.”

******

The sun looms overhead, hot rays warming the land, signaling high noon. Morgana and Betsy had just finished lunch with the other training priestesses and were now back in the little tent that Vivienne had given Betsy for her stay. It was deafeningly quiet compared to the chatter and laughter that still rang in her ears. Morgana had grabbed a brush and a basket full of bright, little flowers and had decided to braid Betsy’s hair. Sure, gentle hands began massaging her scalp causing green eyes to slip shut. Little fingers deftly comb out and plait wildflowers into Betsy’s golden curls. The warmth of the sun and the comfortable silence spread like a comfortable blanket around them. Despite herself, Morgana begins to hum as she works.

Vivienne had sat with them at breakfast and casually suggested that Betsy take time during her day to meditate. As relaxation overtakes her, the last lucid thought of the Impossible Traveler was that Morgana had known exactly what she was doing. Her thoughts began to chase one another, over and over, the same list over and over.

Eat the Left Hand.

Bring back credibility to the Shooting Star Division.

Bring the GCWA World Heavyweight Title back to Legacy.

Keep the XHF Phoenix Title out of the grasp of the ReVenants.

Restore some semblance of order and honor within the companies.

All of it begins to bleed into one another, creating a terrifying confusion of visions. Through it all, different images repeat, clearer than the rest: The sigil of the inverted pentagram with the hand in the middle. The dark, probing eyes of The Baphomet. The looming threat of the unknown Pale Rider. Flitting through her mind, rooting themselves in deeper still. Her heart begins to pound as the memories from the cave begin to creep in.

Morgana’s terrified shriek finally pulls her out of her thoughts. Emerald eyes pop open wide and she jumps from her chair. Morgana had dropped the comb and knocked over the near-empty basket of flowers. She rocked back and forth, cradling her knees to her chin. She was whispering frantically, too low Betsy to hear. Kneeling over, Betsy places a comforting hand on Morgana’s shoulder. The young girl looks up, her dark brown eyes are wide and blank. She had fallen into a trance, thanks to her strong connection with The Sight. The two women had unwittingly allowed their minds to connect just long enough for Morgana to see what troubled her. She begins to speak loudly now as she stares blindly at Betsy, chanting the same words over and over.

“Raise the Left Hand.”

The blood of the Impossible Traveler turned to ice. She falls backward as Morgana leans forward, reaching out to touch her cheek.

“Raise the Left Hand”

“No… Not you, Morgana, please.” Her voice shakes as she begins to shake Morgana gently by her shoulders. The possessed priestess responds only with a toothy smile and the same words.

“Raise the Left Hand.”

“She will do no such thing, and neither will you.”

Relief floods through Betsy as Vivienne’s strong voice rings out from the tent flaps. Before Betsy had a chance to turn, the Lady of the Lake had already approached. The waif-like Vivienne pulled her tiny niece into her lap and touched her forehead gently. Her dark eyes slip shut as she links herself to what Morgana could see while transferring her calming energy into the young girl. Shaken to the core, Betsy flops into a chair and curls into a ball while she watches. The expressions that flit across Vivienne’s face range from great sadness to terror. With a gasp, she removes her hand from Morgana’s forehead and rises quickly to her feet.

“This is the entity you fear, the reason you’ve come here?”

Anger flashes in Vivienne’s eyes as Betsy nods, shrinking away from her. There’s an ominous roll of thunder from outside as Vivienne’s rage momentarily consumes her. Panic stabs at Betsy as she begins to fear Vivienne’s rejection. The High Priestess was clearly disturbed by what she had seen in Morgana’s mind. Guilt gnaws away at her now as Vivienne rages for a few moments more. At last, the tiny woman recovers herself and looks upon Betsy with a somber expression. She holds out her hands, and Betsy gladly accepts them shakily.

“There is a great evil that you have allowed inside of you, child. Demented, twisted, dangerous. You’ve been poisoned by this false prophet who calls himself The Baphomet. I can see your temptation to turn to the blackness that calls out; it talks sweetly to your ego and feeds into your desires. It corrupts you.”

Morgana has sat up now and looks on with confusion, rubbing her head. Vivienne releases Betsy’s hands and kneels over to check on her niece. Trembling from head to toe, Betsy can only watch as Morgana assures her aunt that she’s fine. She looks up at Betsy, who breathes a heavy sigh of relief to see clarity in those deep brown eyes.

“Betsy... “

Vivienne claps her hands sharply and walks back towards the tent flaps. “Sunset is in an hour. Morgana, help Betsy into her gowns and begin making your way to the Tor.”

With that, the High Priestess vanishes. Obediently, the two young women begin to prepare in haste. Both remain silent as Morgana helps Betsy slip into a white gown, lacing up the back loosely. Slipping into her sandals, Betsy and Morgana head towards the front of the tent. Before she could slip through, Morgana grabs her arm and holds it tightly for a moment. Betsy smiles in confusion. Morgana’s eyes are wide.

“I saw another. Hidden between the scenes, intentionally casting shadows. But he’s there, ever-present. Be patient with him. Be kind to him. It won’t be long now. He wanted to tell you to… To...”

Green eyes widen in confusion as Morgana struggles to remember what was said. Fear stabs at her heart as she realizes that there were more invaders to her mind than she’d realized. When finally Morgana remembers, her words bring an unstoppable grin to Betsy’s face.

“He wanted to tell you…

Eat the Left Hand.”

FORMER