“Hello, Marf... It’s been quite some time since we had the pleasure of facing off like this. I quite fondly remember that last go-around, but don’t you worry, dear. I won’t be subjecting you to any musical numbers this time around.

Let’s be honest, I tried way too hard to come such a short way.”

Her lips twitch upward as she suppresses a mirthless chuckle.

“Relentless was a disappointing shit-show, to say the least, but why mope around about opportunities lost when there are still plenty to be gained? Take you, for example, congratulations on defeating a vampirically charged Vita for the Television Title! Your second go-around with the belt, not too shabby, my guy...

It's just such a shame this reign is doomed to be shorter than your last.”

****

As they approach the double sliding blast doors up ahead, Betsy Granger and James Raven pause for a moment to lock eyes. A trail of slaughtered Imperial Officers and Storm Troopers lay in their wake, the only challenge left was the Grand Admiral himself. Betsy had found James a disintegration rifle and found herself inconveniently aroused at how quickly he’d adapted to the weapon. In her own hand, she clutched the cool, metal hilt of her lightsaber.

“This ends tonight.” she hisses breathlessly, her emerald eyes filling with determination.

James nods his agreement, leaning down to exchange a quick kiss before turning attentively towards the doors. Igniting her lightsaber with a satisfying hiss, the magenta hue fills the space between them as she crouches into a defensive stance. Balling his hand into a fist, James slams it against the control pad, causing the blast doors to spring open invitingly. They cautiously make their way inside the Grand Admiral’s private chambers, only to find...

“He’s gone!” Betsy cries out as she scans the room. “This can’t be right, Excellence’s scanners had him located in this very spot.”

“Just as they were meant to do.” says a cold, modulated voice that was all too recognizable. The pair turn towards the chair in the center of the room to find a hologram of the Grand Admiral himself. “Lady Granger, you should know by now that I’m always ten steps ahead of my enemies.”

“So, you’ve finally given up on me, have you?” Betsy says, unable to keep the amusement out of her tone.

“On the contrary, my dearest Betsy, I still have every intention of possessing at the end of this game we continue to play. But my offer of a mutually beneficial marriage is officially void; now I shall simply take you by any means necessary.” His red eyes burn into her from the hologram. “You should have played a little nicer, Betsy. Perhaps your sister will be more inclined to accept my offer.”

“Why would...” But before she can finish, the hologram flickers and vanishes.

James’ brown eyes narrow in confusion. “Why would he bring Addy into this?”

Betsy shakes her head, her own confusion fogging her normally sharp mind. “I don’t know... there’s nothing about her he’d want, besides getting to me.” Shrugging, Betsy powers down her lightsaber and turns back to James. “Wanna loot the place before we go?”

“How about we just get the hell out of here?” James says, looking around cautiously. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”

A playful smirk touches her lips as she closes the gap between them. “Don’t tell me a Star Cruiser full of corpses creeps you out.”

Ignoring her, James continues to scan the room, his brown eyes searching every shadowy corner as intensely as he can. His behavior causes her smile to fade as the hair on the back of her neck rises. Clutching her lightsaber, Betsy now follows his lead, looking around the room carefully.

She sees the movement in her peripheral, a fast-moving blur making a beeline for James. Time slows down as she spins on her heels, her eyes now catching the dim light from the ceiling bounce off the sharp, steel tip of a blade. A blade that was aimed and heading alarmingly fast towards The People’s G.O.A.T.; crying out to him, Betsy launches herself forward, throwing herself in front of James.

Her green eyes widen as the spear is thrust between her shoulder blades; pain bursts through every inch of her body before a strange nothingness consumes her. As she slumps forward, she can feel James catch her instinctively, though he too hadn’t had time to process what had just happened. The Noghri that had attacked looked terrified at his error and attempted to escape the room. Setting Betsy’s limp body gently on the ground, James turns towards the escaping assassin, fury filling his entire face. With unnerving calm, he aims the disintegrator rifle and fires.

Bullseye.

The creature manages one, short scream of terror and pain before dematerializing into nothing. Dropping the weapon, James turns back to Betsy and drops to his knees, scooping her blood-drenched body into his arms. “No, no, no, no, don’t do this to me Bets.” He whispers to her, cradling her against him tightly. Tears escape as he rocks her gently. “Not like this Bets, don’t make it this easy for him.”

Her eyes roll towards him, the sparkle that enchanted so many fading quickly. She reaches out her hand towards his and he takes it, alarmed by how cold it had become. He squeezes it gently as his teardrops create streaks in her crimson face. “I’m... sorry.”

“Don’t you dare...” he whispers helplessly, shaking her as her eyes roll up and her body grows heavy. Grief-stricken, he continues to hold her, refusing to accept the reality before him.

****

“I wanted to start by thanking you for stepping aside the way you have so Lycana and I could explore this... rather unique bond we share. I know it couldn’t have been easy to watch her try for the tag titles with someone else, the Dissentients have been a fixture around here for as long as I have. Whether you were being exploited into doing someone else's dirty work and waging war against the Tag Division, for the longest time, where there was one, the other wasn’t far behind. And in the majority of the era of the Dissentients, it’s very publicly known that the two tended not to agree with the Impossible Traveler on... Well, anything.

Ah hell, Marf, let's be real: you and I still don’t, do we?

Despite our tentative understanding, I can still feel the tension thick in the air between us... And even a blind man can see the strain it’s put on you and Lycana. And I’m here to suggest that everyone just needs to calm the fuck down and take a second to breathe.”

Betsy rolls her eyes dramatically at this.

“But we’re not about that life around here, are we? We’re reactionary types, we let our feelings guide us and when we get in them, we get as stupid as we get dangerous. That’s the line you’re walking right now, Marf; you see Lycana slipping away and desperation is guiding you into unwise decisions. Don’t push away the ones who have stuck by you through it all; just because Lycana and I find ourselves entwined by fate doesn’t mean her attachment to you has lessened. Don’t push her away first because you mistakenly believe she’s leaving you out in the cold.

It’s okay for her to play nice with others; it wouldn’t hurt you to try it sometime.

Alliances and friendships are in flux right now; the strength of your bond is being put through its greatest test to date. It’s so much easier when it’s ‘us against the world’, but when that world begins to open up and others begin to come through? That’s when you know who the real ride-or-die homies are and Marf... I can tell you without a shadow of a doubt that Lycana never stopped being yours.

Yes, we may have something happening between us that we can’t explain. Yes, perhaps she finds herself in a strangely opportunistic place that pulls away from the core goal of the Dissentients.

But never have I ever gotten the impression that the end of the Dissentients was nigh.”

She tries for a friendly expression but fails miserably. Her eyebrows narrow as her face grows harder.

“Be a fucking man is basically what I’m saying today, Marf. If she means as much to you as you’ve said, then act like it. Don’t just say that shit to sound good, prove it with your actions. You couldn’t have made your reluctance to share her any clearer and you haven’t done a single thing to make the situation easier for any of us. It’s time to put on your big boy pants and accept the fact that her social circle is going to expand past you.

And for the record bruh, you were always welcome to join her.”

****

Hours pass as James stares mournfully at Betsy’s body, his sorrow burrowing deep into the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t help but feel that he had failed her; that spear had been meant for him and she’d thrown herself without hesitation into it. Nothing in his skills could have prepared him for this, nor could it have done anything to save her in the first place. A bitter taste prickles his tongue as momentary self-loathing and survival’s guilt threaten to destroy him. He wraps his arms around his knees and buries his head into them, attempting to control the constant, furious buzzing of his mind.

Betsy Granger was dead. The woman he had planned to share the rest of his life with was gone and he couldn’t save her.

A choked sob escapes him as another wave of anguish crashes over him. Desolation begins to set in as he looks at a nearby blaster, considering his options. In the fog of his despair, insane options started to play through his mind that ranged from full-on war to suicide. Turning his head, his eyes land on Betsy once more and he crawls back to her side, curling up beside her and holding her as if they were in bed together. As his brain continues to grab at desperate, wild ideas to bring her back, his hands slide down to her hips where her tool belt still clung to her hips. His fingers brush against something surprisingly cold and smooth; pulling it from its pocket, he holds a dark red stone in his hand that seems to be pulsating slightly.

Suddenly, a familiar sound fills the air, causing James to get slowly to his feet. As the sweeping light circulates through the room, a sound he never thought he’d be happy to hear fills the air. As Excellence materializes around them, James begins to laugh maniacally, scooping Betsy’s body into his arms. Once the ship has engulfed them completely, he carries her to the showers and tenderly cleans the blood off of her. He shudders at the sight of the wound, noting how the blade had pierced lean body straight through her back and heart. Once she was cleaned, he laid her out on the bed and rummaged through her closest. Inside, he found the black dress that he had told her long ago was his favorite. Humming, he dresses her and once complete, takes a step back to admire his work. Nodding, he heads back out into the main cabin and sits down in the pilot's chair, pulling the Nav-Screen towards him.

He didn’t know where they were going, but Excellence was promising that they were close. A strange comfort settles over him as he palms the red stone and loses himself in his darkest thoughts.

****

“Alright, alright, I’m done scolding you like the bad pup you’ve acted like. I’m not here to kick a man when he’s down, though, with the TV title in your hands, one would think you’d be in a better mood.

But I digress.

The match stipulation... theme... whatever they want to call it, is to be chosen by you, which should prove interesting. You’re known for having quite a twisted view of the world and a penchant for merciless violence in the ring. To be honest, given that it’s to be a Halloween or H.P. Lovecraft theme, I should be much more intimidated by what that mind of yours could come up with. Instead, I find myself eagerly awaiting whatever insanity you decide to muster up for us.

Because if you’ve learned one thing about me by now, it’s that there’s nothing you can throw at me that I haven’t seen worse of. I’ve barely touched the surface of what lives in all of time and space, but nothing YOU can conceive of could possibly surprise me at this point. Your imagination is admirable, I’ve seen glorious works of art in the violence you’ve rained down on others. But much like Van Gogh, nobody in your time appreciates the artwork you’ve presented to the world. Instead of being viewed as the visionary of violence you truly are, the people around you only see a rabid dog foaming at the mouth, ready to bite his next victim.

They see a dangerous threat that needs to be put down.”

Green eyes peer through shadows into the camera lens.

“I won’t put you down, Marf, not yet at least. You haven’t crossed that line and I’m not as quick as others to play judge, jury, and executioner. But I will relieve you of the burden of carrying around that championship week after week. Let's be honest, people would rather see my gorgeous face toting this belt everywhere, and it would look quite sharp with my TransAtlantic Title. One belt over each shoulder and maybe the Islands Championship around this perfectly sculpted waist?

Sounds fucking good to me.

Either way, I’m here to have a spooktacular time. If you choose to throw us in with demons and ghosts, I’m game baby. Call me Winchester and let's go hunting.

If you want to call upon the power of Cthulhu to guide us, I dig it. I haven’t had a decent plate of calamari in a minute.

It doesn’t matter what you choose, the end result remains the same.

Granger Victorious.”

****

Excellence lands smoothly, causing James to jerk abruptly from a light sleep. He’s slumped over in the pilot’s chair still, the Nav-Screen pushed slightly back so that he could rest over the panel. He looks with bleary eyes at the monitor, but his vision is still blurred. Rubbing his eyes, he tries again and this time he catches that Excellence had brought them back to Earth.

California, to be exact.

Confused but unwilling to question the ship itself, James rises to his feet and heads towards the doors. He opens them up and shields his eyes from the invasive sun that beams directly into his face. In the distance, mountains pierce the azure sky majestically, their snow-capped peaks shimmering in the sunlight. Just before him stands a tranquil, wooden building that advertised itself as an Airbnb. His eyebrows furrow in confusion as he takes a step outside, the dry ground crunching under his feet. Just as he goes to take another step towards the quaint little cottage, the front door swings open.

And out walks the Sapphire Vixen herself.

“Lycana?” James gasps, his surprised expression matching hers.

“James?” she asks, walking gracefully down the porch stairs and approaching her unexpected visitor. “How did you find me? Where’s Betsy?”

“She...” His voice trails off as anguish fills his face. Lycana’s own heart races as she realizes that something was seriously wrong. That’s when she spots the red stone glowing in his hand.

“James... Where is Betsy?” she asks in a soft, but firm tone.

He swallows hard and gestures towards the ship. “We thought we had Thrawn pinned down, she insisted we strike. But it was a trick... He set us up, with the intention of having me killed and her taken. But... she...” And his voice cuts out again as he chokes back a sob.

Brushing past him quickly, Lycana strides briskly into the ship and looks around. Her blue orbs quickly find the trail of blood and she follows it to the bed chambers. A soft gasp escapes her as she takes in her friend's lifeless body, moving to stand next to the bed. Looking down at the Impossible Traveler, a deep rage ignites inside of her as she hears James shuffle in behind her, remaining in the doorway.

“Excellence got us off that ship and brought us here... I don’t know why, but if it’s because you can help...” Lycana turns to look at him and their eyes lock. His voice is full of desperation, the child-like plea in his tone tearing at Lycana’s heart. “Please help her.”

Nodding, Lycana turns back to Betsy and uses a finger to gently remove a lock of golden hair from her face. “I can help you, James. But you have to do exactly as I say... No matter what it is.” She looks back to him, her expression grave. “Are you willing to go as far as it takes to bring her back?”

The look on his face told her the answer before his words could reach his lips. “Whatever it fucking takes.”

****

“Have you ever considered what wicked beings lurk beyond our world, Marf?

You caught a whiff when you were at the beck and call of the Baphomet, but you never truly tasted the fermented, putrid flavor of pure evil. A force to be handled, but never a true threat to the universe and all she holds within her.

Would you like to know what it’s like to be kissed with the curse of pure malevolence? What horrors creep beyond your wildest imagination?

Then allow me a few hours of your time.

My name is Betsy Granger... And this is how I died.”

FORMER