“So, the portal is somewhere in the studio, most likely her dressing room?” Betsy whispers into the nondescript mic disguised as earrings as she briskly walks across the freshly paved parking lot. The mink stole draped over her shoulders flapped in the breeze; the slinky black gown shimmered against the sinking sun.

After days of heated conversation and planning, Betsy and Terra’s version of Legacy found themselves working together to restore what had been turned upside down. Using pieces of information each of them had to lead to certain events, it was determined that the barrier had acted as a mirror in this instance; in an impossible set of circumstances, both Betsy’s hands been on either side at the same time. When Earth Betsy had stepped through, Terra Betsy had been involuntarily pulled through to Earth. She couldn’t help but chuckle at the idea of a Betsy in love with Noah Jackson coping with James’ affections. Then again, even knowing the situation at hand, that hadn’t stopped the Sick Cunt from shooting his shot at her while she was here.

Snapping her thoughts back to the job at hand, she flashes ID at the security guards who block the doors to the television studio she’s trying to enter. After examining it for a moment, they step aside the one to the right opening the door for her. With a curt nod of her head, she steps through and lifts her chin in the air, taking on the role she’d been instructed to play. It had disheartened her to learn that Terra-Bets was massively stuck-up and bitchy. Indeed, everyone she passed by either glared or trembled in their shoes; she struggled to keep from apologizing to everyone and quietly continue on with her head down. She stops dead as her breath leaves her in a hiss; she spots the door to the private dressing room she’d been looking for. Her heart racing, she quickens her pace, brushing past everyone along the way. So close now...

“There you are!” A familiar voice from behind reflexively makes her want to puke. Even though she knows that she and the owner are best friends here, the automatic revulsion threatens to overwhelm her. Counting down from ten, Betsy forces a smile onto her face and turns as Jenny Myst bounds over gracefully to her. “I’ve been looking for you all over, sister!”

“Oh? What’s happening, girl?” Betsy asked, trying not to grimace as Jenny loops her arm around Betsy’s and begins tugging her towards the main stage.

“We’re due on set; don’t tell me you forgot we were due for the Blondeshelle’s Bash event tonight?!” Jenny’s neon blue eyes peer up into Betsy’s with concern. “Are you feeling alright, Bets? You do look a little fevered.”

“You know, I’ve been running on a headache all day and my throat is sore. Maybe I have been running myself ragged. How long do we have until we HAVE to be on stage?” Betsy asks, forcing her eyes to remain steadily on Jenny.

“Hmm... Maybe ten minutes? You don’t have time for one of your catnaps if that’s what you’re aiming for.”

Unlinking her arm from Jenny’s, Betsy veers herself towards the nearest restroom and slips inside quickly. Locking the door, she flips on the exhaust fan and sighs heavily. “Well, that’s inconvenient... And unsettling.”

“Get it together and get to that dressing room. The sooner we get this shit done, the better.” Came the throaty voice of Atara Themis. Betsy’s heart sank as it always did when she heard the frosty tones dripping with disdain.

Opening the door and poking her head around it carefully, she spots Jenny engaged in conversation with her personal assistant. Slinking away, she walks quickly back towards the dressing rooms and moves quickly to the one that displays the “Blondeshelle’s” name. She does a quick sweep of her surroundings before pushing her way through the heavy door. The nightmarish amount of pink that assaults her eyes makes her gasp out loud and press herself against the door. Reminded grimly of Professor Umbridge of Harry Potter lore, Betsy steps forward once again and taps on the mic. “I’m in.”

“Perfect. On the left, camouflaged among that hideous feng shui, is a walk-in closet. If there’s a portal hiding anywhere, it’d likely be in there.” Shawn tells her in a matter-of-fact tone.

“You’ll have to give me a sec, my eyes are still adjusting.” Her voice is thick with sarcasm as she blinks rapidly and heads to where Shawn instructed. “Do me a favor though: when the switch is made, get this girl some help. Both of them, if you can manage it. This is... sickening.”

Shawn’s snort is full of mirth, earning him a grin he’d never see from the Impossible Traveler. Feeling her way along the oddly silky wallpaper with her fingertips, her fingers finally stumble over a latch. She gives it an exploratory tug and it pulls open easily. The first thing she notices is the drastic lighting difference. Gone are the brilliant colors of the walls and blinding fluorescents; the closet was comfortingly dim and surprisingly cooler than the room outside. Stepping further inside, she feels around in the air for a moment before catching the pull string to the light in her fingers. The light floods the room in a soothing green glow; as she begins to look around, something begins to dawn on her.

“You know, we focused so much on what happened and how to fix it, we missed a rather important detail,” Betsy says as a mounting feeling of unease begins to form in her chest.

“And what’s that?” James’ voice floats into her ear for the first time, sending that familiar wave of comfort through her. It’s gone as quickly as it came as she remembers which one was speaking to her.

“Who did this and why,” Betsy says firmly as she tackles a large shoe display rack. Lavishly designed shoes of all styles adorn the case, most of which she could never imagine herself wearing. Spotting a button to the bottom left, she taps it out of habit. The rack swings to life, the displays spreading outward on either side, revealing a door in the middle. Through the cracks, Betsy sees bright, erratically pulsing light coming from behind it. “Guys, I think I found it.” She whispers excitedly, her mouth suddenly dry. Reaching out her hand, she wraps her fingers around the handle and-

“Stop right there, Granger.”

______

“I took everything from you? Is that really the hand you want to play at this juncture?

Alright, suit yourself.

No Jenny, allow me to correct you: the only thing I took from you was the Shooting Star Championship that should have rightly been around my waist ever since High Stakes. No, I’m going into that tirade all over again, I’m just driving the point home once and for all. The Shooting Star Championship is finally where it belongs. Around the torso of a fighting champion; one who embodies the spirit of the business and puts it before everything else in their life. Someone who looks down at their reflection in the nameplate and feels the pain of every loss along with the glory of every win. You may as well etch the name of any of the champions in blood; shit, scratch that, I wouldn’t want to give you any more ideas. Tell me again what I’ve actually taken from you, Jenny. Last I checked, you were up to your neck in acting gigs, product endorsements, sponsorships, the works. Say what I want about your devotion to the industry, your work ethic in entrepreneurial ventures is unmatched. From what I’ve sneaked peeks of in Tommy’s paperwork, you’ve got your hands in a little bit of everything for at least the next two years. Congratulations, we’re all really impressed... Not fucking really.

Did you EVER care about what having this, or any, championship meant? Or have you just completely lost sight of possessing this title actually meant to the others who held it before and after you. It became clear to me quickly that this wasn’t about the blood, sweat, and tears you put towards getting this around your waist; oh no, you just had your eye on the perks and cash prizes that came along with it. Are you beginning to understand why my winning the strap is about than just trolling you, Jenny? You may have had a long reign, but how many defenses did you actually put up? How have you been doing ever since you’ve lost the belt? This obsession with the Shooting Star Title and me is playing out quickly. I may have a lot on my plate for March Madness, but don’t believe for a fucking second that I’m losing an ounce of focus on you. If putting you away for good in your own hometown is what it takes to humble you out of the spotlight for a bit, so be it. Be sure to take as many looks skyward as you can during our match; it’ll be the last time you’re that close to the Shooting Star title for a long time."

_____

She freezes on the spot as commanded by the now cold voice of Jenny Myst. Betsy slowly brings her hands up and turns around to face her. Holding a blaster to her at face level, Jenny bores her unnervingly blue eyes into Betsy. “Leaving so soon? You only just got here; see the sites, experience the culture... Stay awhile, in other words.”

Jenny gestures towards the main room with the point of her blaster. Betsy obediently heads for the door, her mind racing as she desperately goes through several escape sequences at once. Her objective was the portal she was now getting farther away from; contacting Legends was impossible with Jenny keeping an eagle eye on her. Realizing she only had her wits and maybe a little time to save her, Betsy takes a seat in one of the soft lounge chairs and gazes steadily up at a now pacing Myst. “So... That’s a portal to another realm.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t worked out exactly what it is, we both know you’re much cleverer than this,” Jenny replies with a sneer.

Betsy nods, conceding involuntarily to Jenny’s point. “Alright, I do know what it is. What I don’t know is why a wormhole portal is hanging out in a dressing room closet. Maybe you could fill in some of the blanks since you obviously know a thing or two about it.”

Jenny smirks, lowering the blaster slightly. “You really don’t know, do you? We’ve been following you around for months and you still haven’t noticed we were there. And you love to brag so much about your superior skills of observation and wit. Where were they when we were tracking your every move?”

The color drains from her face as Jenny continues to revel in her distress. Each word eats at her anxiety. “For months? You’ve been following me for months while building a wormhole portal? But... Why?”

Snarling, Jenny turns and for the first time, Betsy realizes that there’s something off in the features. Distortion sets in for a moment, causing her to rub her eyes and stare harder. Her eyes focus on Jenny, looking completely like Jenny, but her eyes glow like molten aquamarine. “It must be so much fun to be the famous Impossible Traveler, Betsy the Star Skipper; just hopping from planet to planet without a care in the entire universe.”

The accusations of such callous behavior draw a gasp from Betsy; she shakes her head vehemently against Jenny’s vitriol. “If ever I caused you any harm, I’m sorry. But everything I’ve ever done was to try and help. I’ve helped stave off wars; I’ve helped clean up after them. Yes, I’ve fought in my fair share and had moments when my morals started to blur, but I always did what I believed was right in the end. Again, if that had some sort of negative effect on you... I’m sorry.”

“This façade of cluelessness doesn’t work well for someone like you, Granger. But if you really want to play dumb, I suppose I have enough time to play along. My mother always said not to play with my food, but you’re providing such entertainment. How is a girl to resist?”

“Then don’t. At least tell me your name?” Betsy implores. At that moment, a small device begins to vibrate gently against her left thigh. Hoping Myst wouldn’t spot it, she looks up at her captor again, but she’s met with a mysterious grin.

“Really, Betsy, you haven’t figured out any of this yet? I set up this entire world in order for you to face the physical and mental obstacles holding you back the most. I’m the one who tried to steer you into something better. Six different worlds, Betsy, and you’ve rejected every one you’ve entered thus far...” A grin plays on Jenny’s lips that leaves Betsy’s pulse racing with fear. “And now, because of your own curiosity and somehow breaking free of the memory binding charm, you and your impossible existence end here.” Before Betsy could react, the blaster had been aimed between her eyes again.

Heart racing, she tries to work out how to save her life, but the time for talking had clearly passed. She squeezes her eyes shut, resigning herself to the inevitable... Until suddenly, the doors to the room burst open and Legends burst inside. Atara, James, and Shawn ran in first with smoke canisters, throwing them wildly towards Myst. She hisses and backs away from the foul-smelling smoke as Noah rushes inside and whisks her back towards the closet. An ear-splitting scream from Myst is heard as Atara and James reach her first and begin the task of securing her. Shawn begins spraying a neutralizer to the chemical compound contained within the poisonous canisters. Taking in this last view of them hard at work, she allows Noah to push her gently inside the room. Once they are alone, he turns on her and pulls her tightly against him. Before she could stop him further, he leans down and steals one last kiss from her.

“Are you sure you won’t stay here with me? I’ll make you forget all about him if you give me a chance...”

Having pulled herself out of his embrace, Betsy looked back at him while placing one hand on the doorknob. “I can’t stay here, Noah... This isn’t my world. I don’t belong here.” Looking back at the door, she opens it up wide and blinks against the blinding, quivering light of the portal. “You’ll forget about me soon enough and everything will go back to normal... I hope. I’m glad to know you exist though, for what it’s worth.”

Turning back to give him one more sweet smile, she sticks out her hand to shake his. He reaches out to take it; but instead of shaking her hand, he pushes her hard through the portal with a sad look in his eyes. Her last view of Terra was Noah waving goodbye sadly...

… And then she was skidding to a halt next to an identical version of herself. For several long moments, they stare at each other in fascination and horror. Then Betsy gestures towards the rapidly decreasing wormhole. “You better get in there before it closes... This is a paradox I don’t need to clean up right now.”

Wisely deciding to ask no questions, Terra-Betsy salutes and dives through the shrinking wormhole... Right in the nick of time. With a small pop, it fades out of existence; heaving a sigh of relief, Betsy finally looks around to take in where she was. Much to her relief, she was back where all this madness had started: The Fork.

Exhaustion breaks over her and she slumps down, cross-legged, onto the soft dirt. It quickly begins to soak through the thin cotton of her pants again, but she hardly notices it this time around. Her full attention is now on the path that leads to Olympus, her heart already thumping in anxiety-riddled anticipation. Though there were no guarantees as to what lay hidden beyond the barrier, Betsy had a sinking feeling she had an idea of what awaited her on the other side. Shaking her head, she gets lost in her thoughts as she continues to procrastinate in this next, oh-so-important step in her adventures...

___

“You coming into our match with the idea that I’ve taken everything from you makes you the most dangerous version of yourself that I’ve ever faced. You’ve made it very clear that this tunnel-vision obsession needs to be put behind us, one way or another, come March Madness. And I came to discovery as I pondered over your words again and I realized something rather profound and shocking, Jenny.

You’re right.

I did take everything from you and it started the night I made my debut in the XWF. It was a slow burn and happened in steps, but I did in fact take everything away from you. It wasn’t just the title I took that night... It was the last shred of dignity you managed to hang on to. I also snagged the spotlight you depend so much on to validate your pathetic existence. Just by being here and doing what I do, I managed to strip you of your over-confidence, arrogance, ego, and vanity. But most of all, I washed away the delusion that you were ever worth a damn to the Shooting Star Division.

My arrival inadvertently heralded your downfall; the pieces were unwittingly set in place as early as High Stakes. This was always going to be the way this played out, kiddo. Everything you’ve lost is the result of one thing, Jenny:

Karma. And she’s made me her agent.”

FORMER