“She’s been in that phone booth for days.” Elena Granger remarks of her youngest daughter, Betsy, to her husband. Joel joins Elena at the window she was currently looking out of and follows her gaze. The concern is etched all over his face as he wraps an arm around his wife’s slim waist. Elena leans into him and sighs softly. “I’m worried about her.”

“Me too, baby, but we’ve got to let her work this one out on her own time and terms.” He touches a finger to Elena’s full, cherry lips as she turns her head to object. “No, we screwed this one up big time. We thought we were doing the right thing, now I see that all we did was make things worse. Betsy is a good girl with a big heart; she’ll come around when she’s ready.”

“I hope you’re right, Joel; I wasted so much time being scared of her and being a terrible mother...” Joel holds his wife closer as her voice cracks. “I don’t want to lose my second chance before I could show her I wanted to make it alright between us.”

“She’ll come around,” Joel repeats firmly. Even still, a flicker of doubt went through his mind as he continued to stare out at the odd phone box his daughter had taken up residence in.

Adelaide had come back into the room after taking a jog in the cool night air. She spots her folks in the kitchen, staring out at Betsy’s ship with mournful expressions on their faces. Sighing heavily, she pulls the earbuds from her head and walks on quiet feet to stand beside them. “She needs time, guys. As far as bombshells go, I’d be hard put to find one bigger than this; she’s having a rough time.”

“She’s going to hate us forever for this. She’ll never trust me again, the way she used to. She’s angrier than I’ve ever seen her and rightfully so. And I’ve got no one to blame but myself.” Joel’s voice leaves him as he begins to weep. Elena walks him to the couch and holds her husband tightly as he sobs in her arms. Addy looks down at them, sympathy vying its way through her disapproval.

“She’s not going to hate you forever, though it is going to take a while to rebuild her trust. But it’s Betsy we’re talking about; she’ll never turn her back on you for this. It’s just not in her nature.”

“I hope you’re right, Adelaide.” Joel lifts his tear-stained face to his elder daughter. Her heart breaks at the hurt written all over his handsome features. Approaching them, she gently rests her hand on her father's shoulder and squeezes it gently.

“I’ll try her again in an hour. I called James and explained what was going on, so he’s on his way as well. We’ll get her out of there soon enough. She can’t possibly keep herself locked away from the world for too much longer…”

Meanwhile, inside of Excellence

For days since the confrontation with her parents, Betsy had kept herself locked safely behind the doors of Excellence. Her heart was torn between the anger towards her parents and wanting to run into her father’s arms for comfort. Sleep had become as elusive as the words on the letter her birth parents had left for her. This came between bouts of existential crisis, as it hit her again and again that her entire life with the Grangers had been a lie. The comfort of knowing exactly who she was and where she had come from had been taken away so quickly, she couldn’t grab it back quickly enough. Dropping to her knees, she clutches at the letter she’s desperate to decipher. So far, her computers had come up empty, finding no trace of the symbols used on the paper. The scanners beneath her feet were still computing the materials the ship was made of, though her hope of finding answers through that was fading as well.

Grumbling, she sets the letter down carefully on the scanner again, allowing the computer to run it through once more. Snatching up the Time Lord technology book she kept stashed under the control panel, she flops down into the captain's chair and opens it up. Flicking her finger over the pages quickly, she finds what she’s searching for: a way to enhance the translation circuit. She nibbles on her lower lip as she reads through the complicated instructions, but she’s determined to make it happen. Setting the book down carefully and setting the letter in the crevice of the spine, Betsy sprints to the left and through the hallway to another set of doors. One section of the back wall was dedicated to tools of all varieties. Looking through them, she picks out the ones specified in her book and hurries back to the engine. Dropping down to her knees, she spreads the different tools out around her; selecting a screwdriver from the mix, she goes to work at the panels protecting the complicated electronics beneath it.

After working deftly, she finally tugs the panel away carefully and observes the brightly lit wires inside. They glow a blinding orange, wisps of visible energy coming off the surface of the machinery like a fog. Slipping on a pair of protective gloves and goggles, Betsy grabs the book and sets it down beside her before sliding down onto her back and underneath the panel. She begins to tinker away, sliding out occasionally to take in the next few steps of the process. Hours pass without her noticing, just as they had the past two days since she’d confined herself. As she works, her mind goes over the sequence of events that led her to this maddening effort to translate this letter. She could be mad at no one but herself for unlocking such secrets. Seeking out Dock to play with her mind had come with consequences she realized she wasn’t ready to pay for. Irritation fills her as she continues to work away on the rows of delicate wires, forcing herself to put her mind back to the task at hand. She’s soon rewarded by a series of loud beeps as the translating computer begins to chug to life.

Sliding out and wiping her hands on her shirt, Betsy gets to her feet and peers hopefully at the letter in her hand. Her heart begins to pound with excitement against her ribs as the symbols begin to translate into American English. A few minutes later, the letter was completely readable; sitting down hard, Betsy began to scour every word.

Dearest Orianna,

With a breaking heart, I’m forced to write out these final words of my life through parchment and ink. Your mother and I wish dearly that we could have survived what happened here, but alas; it wasn’t meant to be. Even as I write these thoughts, I can hear the Chis forces marching towards our door, ready to take your mother and me away. Our civilization is falling apart at the seams; by the time you are old enough to receive and read this letter, our planet will have been long dead. Our refusal to cooperate with the new Empiric regime was met with charges of treason, made by Emperor Palpatine himself. There is nowhere left for us to run, but we were determined that you would escape. We knew the possibility for the invasion was imminent, so we prepared for the very scenario we found ourselves in.

A little about us, as much as I can give you in such a slim amount of time. Your mother’s name is Tautania and mine is Alcanda; your true name given to you by us, as you’ve likely noticed, is Orianna. I don’t know where you might end up or who may take you in, but I only hope this letter finds you happy, healthy, and curious. To give you a brief history of our people and world, you come from the planet Aurellias. Our people are known as the Aurellians; you come from a long line of noble warriors and scientists. Chosen unanimously by the surrounding governed planets in our system, we acted as protectors of the galaxy against the darkest of forces. We fought alongside many powerful allies in an attempt to keep the balance of good and evil in the galaxy at bay. Unfortunately, the Chis were determined in their efforts and led by Grand Admiral Thrawn, there was no stopping them.

Within the hulls of the ship, you will find several data cards about your heritage, our planet’s history, and what your surviving means for us. Explore as you like, but take heed; before we sent you off, we inserted a temporary memory damper into your brain. It was an extreme move, especially on a months-old infant, but we were forced to take desperate measures. The reason for this was to prevent you from remembering anything too soon. In our particular race, most of the magic-wielders, as they call us, come into our abilities in our teens. I’m not sure what growing up off-world will do to invite or inhibit your powers, but there is no doubt in our minds that you are destined to carry the burden. While we hope that you have, by now, discovered your unique abilities, be warned of the grave danger that comes with it. The Chis know that some of the children of Aurellias escaped and they’ll never stop looking until they’ve wiped us out completely.

Once your powers have been unlocked from within, they’ll sense it. Grand Admiral Thrawn is a frightening adversary in how he manages to collect information. He’ll no doubt by now have come up with a way to locate you once your powers appeared. The memory damper was our last-ditch effort to hold you off from the truth of your heritage until you were able to hold your own in a fight against the Admiral and his ruthless armies. It was foretold to us that our daughter would one day be the most powerful of our kind; a force to be reckoned with throughout the universe itself. A force of unparalleled good.

We have no doubt that’s what you have become. Just know that we love you, so very much, and we’re proud of the woman you are today. In the future, when you’re ready, you’ll arrive in our great beyond, we will meet again. Until then, my darling little love, live your best life and never stop shining. Never give in to your fear, anger, or hatred, and guide those who slip down that path. Never be cruel, or cowardly; mind your heart and intuition, both will serve you best. You were born to do great things, Orianna; we only wish we could have survived long enough to see them. Even still, we’ll be with you, always, in spirit and through the history contained in the data cards. We hope you can forgive us and manage to find yourself a good home with a good family. We love you, Ori, forever and always.

With all our hearts, Mom and Dad

Betsy sets the letter down as tears drop from her eyes. Setting the letter down, she finally exits Excellence for the first time in days. Blinded by the hot tears stinging her eyes, she walks towards the house, only to run into Joel on the way in. Her vision clears and looking down at her is the lined, yet still handsome face of her father. And at that moment, Betsy knew for certain that this man had been the father her birth parents had hoped she would find. Love floods through her and without saying a word, she throws her arms around him and hugs him tight. Joel squeezes her tightly as relief races through him, causing a lump to form in this throat. Comfortable silence hangs between them as their hug continues...


*****

“Oh me, oh my, the Criminal finally speaks and did he ever have some things to say.”

The camera focuses on Betsy walking along the Superheroes' halls at the Smithsonian National Museum of American History. After glancing at a few of the priceless displays, she stops in front of an old Superman costume. The placard states that it had been worn by George Reeves in the 1930s version of The Adventures of Superman. She stares at it as she allows her thoughts to tumble from her lips.

“Good to finally hear from you, comrade. I was beginning to worry YOU were the one not taking this fight seriously. You accuse me of having my attention focused elsewhere, yet I’ve been the one attempting to draw you out this entire time. I’ll get to you in a moment, dear. I just want to finish up some reflecting before I carry on with the task at hand. I can’t help but pause before the Supes suit, as recent revelations in my private life made me realize that Clark Kent and I walk very similar paths on this planet. He may be a work of fiction, but the Impossible Traveler is very real. But that has nothing to do with why we’re here today.”

She turns from the suit but continues to stand before it, arms behind her back. She glances into the camera, her expression emotionless.

"I’ve heard what you’ve had to say about me. I’m here to say that you’ve got me all wrong, friend. You’ve taken my words as a sign of weakness; you’ve twisted them to suit your needs. This makes you no different from the rest of the cretins who would turn me into little more than a weak child, a spoiled brat. Because that’s how you see me, isn’t it? I imagine that’s how a lot of people see me anymore, that’s what happens when I don’t put my best foot forward.

I’ve confessed my sins and bared my soul for all the world to see. Come Warfare, with your defeat, I will be absolved of my selfish vanity and covetous whims. I will finally be able to move forward.

Because you see, NKWC, I’m not the frightened child you mistake me for. Don’t mistake my looking over my shoulder as an act of fear; it's merely self-preservation when entering the war zone. Do you think I’m not focused enough on you, comrade? Did I wound your precious pride by not giving you enough of my attention leading into this? My bad, I’d been waiting to see if you had anything to say to me before giving you another ounce of my time. BoB is a bigger picture problem, but you, friend… You’re my current focus, you have been ever since this match was announced.

You call me arrogant, talk about the pot calling the kettle black. You used all your words to assume the core of my character, yet you completely missed the mark in your blind hate. You sneer in my direction, assuming I’m no longer the threat you’d hoped for when the match was announced. That’s walking on your pride my friend, something I know quite a bit about. That kind of self-righteous, short-sighted attitude will lead to your downfall if you aren’t careful. Of course, I’m arrogant, you damnable fool, we all are in this business. Even the best of us want our egos stroked constantly, that’s why we’re here. The difference is, I try not to let it consume me; it can’t be allowed to happen or it will destroy me.

You can quote me all you like to try and make a weak case against me, but it won’t change the results. I’m no longer seeking glory and gold; rather, I desire absolution and purpose. I allowed the worst traits of my personality to rule the roost and I’ve paid for them thoroughly these last several weeks. I come before you now, humbled and empty-handed, with nothing to lose and everything to prove. You aren’t destined to be the final nail in my coffin, NKWC; you serve as the first stepping stone back to where I was before.”

Her voice grows husky as she stares into the camera, her expression still unreadable.

“I’m not finished here in the XWF and it’s going to take a lot more than a North Korean War Criminal to put me down. You may hate what America stands for; hell, I’m not a fan of the state of things at the moment, either. We’re a laughing stock and we’ve devolved into the very thing we sought to escape. That said, I’ll be damned if you’re gonna come up in here and talk about trashing priceless relics as you threaten to dominate and destroy me. I’m not distracted by the location of our fight, I’m merely imagining all the ways I can utilize it to put you out for the night. Imagination is a powerful weapon when one is blessed with a creative one; something you lack.

Don’t feel too badly for that, NKWC, most adults lose them. I’m one of the lucky ones.

So worry not, my hate-fueled opponent, for come Warfare, I and all of my attention will belong only to you when that bell rings. You might not be so glad for it when it happens, because this fight isn’t going to go down the way you seem to think. No blood will be spilled, no one will be destroyed and Betsy Granger WILL walk out victorious.

End of story. Good night and fuck off.”