A chilling breeze sweeps the brilliantly colored fall leaves like festive confetti, marking the somber occasion. Lycana is marking the grounds with symbols as she hums a melancholy tune to match her dark work. Chopping up firewood and chucking the pieces towards the pyre is James Raven, his bleak, sullen mood written clearly all over his face. His shirt had disappeared some time ago, an effect that would cause most women to swoon. His muscles ripple as he handles the ax with ease, stopping every so often to let his eyes flicker protectively towards the shallow grave.



Covered in a blanket of leaves and dirt, wrapped carefully in a decorative carpet, is the body of Betsy Granger. Lycana had wanted to bury her without the carpet, but James had balked enough at creating the makeshift grave for her. With a surly pout, he watched as Lycana drew symbols on her deathly white skin with red ochre, chanting in a language he couldn’t understand. It wasn’t long after this that we come to the present scene. The sky grows darker as clouds gather quickly, the waning moon still a bright neighbor above them. Lycana looks up from her work, basking in the glory of the gorgeous night nature was going to provide them for the ceremony.



“It’s almost time to begin,” she calls out softly to James, who had shifted his gaze over to her.



“Awesome.” He replies in a clipped tone, finishing off the last few pieces of wood before him. Once he’s completed the task, he stretches gloriously before sliding his shirt back on. “Are you positive this is going to work?”



“I can bring her back, but there are... risks,” Lycana says evenly, walking towards the grave with a bowl in her hand.



“Like?” he inquires, watching as she scoops up some of the dirt that had made direct contact with Betsy. His eyes narrow curiously as he spots the red stone being covered by the moist earth.



“When I last performed this ritual, the woman I performed it on was brought back. However, she didn’t exactly come back the same girl she’d been. Same adult body, the mind of a child.” His brown eyes grow wide as they flicker towards Betsy again.



“Christ... I must be fucking crazy to let you do this,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “Crazier still to even believe this will work.”



“James,” Lycana says gently, placing a hand on his arm. “It’s okay to be afraid, I’m nervous myself. But Excellence somehow found me when I was in hiding because she knows I can help... I know it’s a lot to ask, but you have to trust me to bring her back from where she’s gone.”



Grief causes his face to crumble as he nods, turning to get the blaze started. As he stokes the flames to make them grow, Lycana begins lighting candles in all four directions, chanting in Latin as she does. As the words of her spell hit the air, spirits long forgotten dragged from their long slumbers and begin to look on in interest.



****



As the power of the spell begins to twist through the air, Betsy stops walking and looks around. Lycana’s voice had filled the air all around her, guiding her back to the land of the living. Confusion and fear flood through her as she looks around, realizing that she’d been walking into total emptiness. There was no destination, just an endless trail of nothing. How long had she been walking now; time seemed nonexistent here as she desperately searched her clouded mind for answers.



It was then that she finally noticed the dark shadow that had always been following her... Watching and waiting oh so patiently.



Something about its presence turned her to ice as she begins to walk again, her steps quicken trying to distance herself from its malevolent presence. But even as her quick pace turned to a brisk jog, she knew she’d never been able to escape it grasp.



Lycana’s voice breaks through the fog once more, calling for her to come home.



“I’m here! Ly!” Betsy calls out, her voice filling the space she occupied. “Come on, please hear me! Ly-”



Her desperate plea turns to a scream of terror as a pair of strong arms wrap themselves around her, one tightening around her waist, the other covering her mouth as it dragged her down into another realm...



****



Heart thudding in his chest, Raven watches in morbid fascination as Lycana continues to chant in Latin. As she calls out to the growing wind, the bowl she had filled earlier ignites on its own. He lets out an inaudible gasp as a roll of thunder and a violent streak of lightning accompany it. As she moves gracefully around, Lycana places herself before the bowl and produces a small, silver dagger from her sleeve. Holding up her arm, she slices into it without hesitation, allowing her precious blood to drip down in sacrifice.



“ORTUS!” She cries out loudly, her voice carried by another clap of thunder.



Leaves swirl around them in a wicked dance as Lycana continues to call out to Death himself. The blood continues to run down her arm, earning her a concerned gaze from James. Despite his desire to say something, he can tell that reaching out to Lycana now would be dangerous; wherever she was now, she was as far away from him as Betsy still was. Yet, over and over, her strong voice carries through the sudden fall storm, commanding His presence.



“ORTUS! RISE!” Lycana screams, hoping her voice is reaching Betsy in the beyond.



Mesmerized by the ritual, James finds himself unable to turn away from the scene. Lycana’s arms are suspended in the air as though she were embracing an invisible being. The calm night had become violent as lightning forked across the sky, His feet carried him towards the fire, some strange, foreign force entering his body and guiding his actions. Before he realized what he was doing, he reached out and plucked Lycana’s blade from her hands. Cutting into his own arm, he reaches up and grasps Lycana’s hands, feeling the power being emitted from them. He gasps as it fills him; he can hear her gasp as their combined force quickens the task at hand.



No sooner did their fingertips brush than the dark figure Lycana had been waiting for appeared. Now James was able to see what he saw and fear he’d never known seeped through him. This dark entity was not friendly, nor was it willing to give up the prize they were coming to take away. Anger fills him then, his own desire to have Betsy back in his arms overtaking every bit of sense and caution that remained within. Looking up without care for himself, he locks eyes with Death and growls in his most dangerous voice.



“You can’t have her, you creepy fuck. Betsy is mine.”



The figure throws back his head and laughs wickedly, pointing a skeletal finger in their direction. It speaks not a word, but the message is clear.



They’re next.



Lycana and James lock eyes and nod, both of them knowing without words that time was running out. Together, they call out to Betsy desperately.



“ORTUS!”



****



When she and her abductor finally land in the dark world he presides over, Betsy stumbles away and spins around into a defensive crouch. She’s taken aback by the breathtakingly handsome man standing before her; even the fact that he only had one eye only added to his dashing good looks. He smiles at her indulgently as she continues to keep her distance.



“Who the fuck are you?”



“She’s very efficient,” he responds mildly, a charming smile appearing, ignoring her question. “Always seems to arrive at... convenient moments. Worry not, I have no intentions of keeping you on this plane. I’d hate to deprive her after all she’s going through.”



“She... You mean Lycana?” Betsy asks in confusion, but she’s met with a blank gaze. “What does she have to do with anything?”



“Everything, of course!” He replies gleefully, clapping his hands together once. “I’m going to help you get back to her and that saucy-sounding chap that joined her little chant. But you’re going to deliver a little message for me... When the time is right.”



Suddenly, a warmth fills her as his gaze intensifies; his tone is inviting as he bids her to come closer, whispering to her of things she couldn’t comprehend. Before she could ask him what he meant, he snaps his fingers and she shakes her head, smiling up at him in polite confusion. He runs a hand down her cheek; she shudders at the freezing cold touch and the feeling of slime down her cheek. Unbeknownst to her, he’d left his mark upon her, and smiled as her eyes glowed a deep red for a moment before returning to their normal shade of green.



Behind Betsy, a blue vortex suddenly bursts open, eliciting a scornful laugh from the mysterious stranger.



“It’s only a matter of a time..” he says as he turns Betsy towards the vortex and pushes her gently into it...



****



As the storm rages, Lycana and James continue their desperate bid to bring Betsy back. Death continues to play tug-of-war with her soul, reaching out to take both the blasphemers along with her. They continue to scream the sacred words until finally, a violent streak of lightning lands in the fire between their clasped hands, sending them both flying backward. Both of them are breathless and bloody, climbing slowly to their feet and looking around cautiously.



From the bed of leaves, Betsy’s eyes fly open and she begins to scream out loudly. James nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound as Lycana rushes over to the shallow grave. Recovering quickly, James rushes to her side, and together, they help Betsy to her feet.



She gazes between them fearfully, gasping for air and trembling from head to foot. Death still marked her features as Lycana steps forward, her face full of worry. “Betsy?”



“Ly? James? What happened?” Betsy stammers.



Relieved laughter escapes as she hugs Betsy tightly. “Thank the Goddess,” she whispers as she releases Betsy and allows James to scoop her up.



Betsy locks eyes with Lycana over his shoulder. A sinister smile spreads across her face as a flicker of red flashes through the green orbs.

**** Promo Baby! *****
Incessant squeaking is heard as a camera opens on a room full of caged rats in all shapes, colors, and sizes. Each one is labeled with an assigned number and coded serum name and many of them are clearly unwell. A shuffling noise towards the back of the room causes the cameraman to swivel; he’s just in time to catch Betsy Granger entering the room.



She’s dressed as Rattigan from The Great Mouse Detective.



“Rats in the Walls, eh? I’ll give you points for attempting something you watched on a Fear Factor rerun. But if you were hoping to make my skin crawl, you’ll have to do better than that.



And considering who I’m talking to, I suspect you may yet have an Ace up your sleeve.”



Her eyebrow cocks while the smug, challenging smirk remains on her lips. She allows her gloved hand to slide over the glass prisons.



“Perhaps it’s a bit rude of me to assume such a thing from you, my friend. With your history of fair fighting and sportsmanlike behavior, there’s no reason at all for me to believe you don’t have something much more... sinister planned for me.



Or us. You are about those ratings, after all. And I’d be remiss if I didn’t give you credit for always being willing to get your hands dirty. At least nowadays, you don’t have some pussy ass fucktard holding on to your leash; it’s almost like you do things on your own time in your own way.



But we both know that isn’t really the way, don’t we?



We’re all just rats scrambling around in a cage for the delight of people like Theo Pryce and Marcus Welsh. We kill ourselves night in and night out to impress them, some of us even selling our sells to further their vanity crusades. Have you ever seen the trained rats that are taught to do flips, run through mazes, jump through tiny rings of fire? That’s all we are to them, Marf, insignificant little rodents good for nothing more than their frivolous ideas that they consider entertainment.



And when they’ve had enough, that’s a wrap on us. I woke up on Sunday as the TransAtlantic Champion of OCW; today I stand before you empty-handed. Well, not completely, I still have my Islands Championship with New Status Quo in Fight! NYC, but there’s a blank space on my wall now where the TransAtlantic Championship previously sat.



I’m thinking the XWF Television Championship would fill that void quite nicely.”



Her face hardens, losing all of its natural warmth.



”It’s a literal rat race out here, all of us scrambling like starving pests to grab at whatever nibble we can get. The suits at the top laugh as they dangle our treats before us, keeping them just out of reach until we run through more mazes for their amusement.



It’s fucking disgusting and I’m beyond done getting my fingertips within grasp to have it yanked away once more.



Saturday night, I take what I fucking what, once and for all.



My era as Television Champion has been long in the making. Remember back in July when I was meant to face Corey Smith for that very strap? Outside forces interfered and I was once again denied something I wanted sorely. I was forced to watch and swallow bitter bile down my throat as Bobby Bourbon came through and made the most of what should have been my moment.



Now it’s time to take back what should have been mine months ago.”[bg]



She begins to glow slightly, her body illuminating through the costume. Her eyes take on a toxic glowing shade of green.



[bg]”Consider this the first page in my next chapter, Marf; fucking aye, you should be honored to have such an important place in it. My inevitable defeat over you marks the next part of my story, and YOU get to kick things off.



Doesn’t that just make you feel so warm and fuzzy inside?



Or are you dead like me?”



She holds a glowing hand out towards the camera as her voice takes on a huskier timber. As she speaks again, a deeper tone overlaps with her own, booming through the laboratory. The rats that are well enough to pay attention are glued to the front of their cages.



”Your defeat over the vampire was... anticipated. Vita seems like a sweet gal, but fuck, she really is one dizzy bitch sometimes. She thought she could tangle with the forces of the undead, but merely accomplished looking like a fool in the end. Bless her heart, I hope she manages to find her true identity and gets her shit together. Maybe then she’ll have a better shot at hanging on to whichever title she manages to win next.



But she was in over her head from the very start. Her slip of a win amounted to very little in the end, and all it took was a little push from you to send her crashing back down. Tell me the truth, did you have garlic in your pocket or did you piss holy water down her throat?



Then again, who gives a fuck? In the end, as it always happens, the vampire was slain.”



Waving her hand through the air, a visible wave of energy surges through the room, causing all the doors to the glass prisons to fly open. The rats that were still healthy starts jumping to the floor and running towards the nearest cracks in the walls they could find.



”Bring your worst and give me your best; I want this to hurt us both, Marf. I know how much menace and ill-intent lurk underneath that smile; show me how much you hate me for showing Lycana there’s more to the world than the Dissentients. Make me taste your wrath and show me why you deserve to hold on to that Television Title. I want you to throw everything you’ve possibly got at me, because honey, you’re going to need every last ounce of it.



Because once you’ve tapped the well dry and exhausted yourself, I’m going to come through and prove to you why nothing you have is ever going to be enough. It doesn’t matter how far you’ve come since last we met one on one; I was better then and I eagerly await proving that I remain so.



I hope you’ve been paying attention to the bits of my story I’ve allowed into the world, Marfalicious. Remember what I left you with previously? This is the story of how I died... I’m changing every day and I don’t know how to stop it. Maybe the more accurate way to tell it is that I don’t WANT to stop it. Tis the season to be spooky and I’ve decided to take that shit to heart. It took being dead to realize how alive I’m ready to feel.



The good news is, by the time we get to Savage, my appearance on your adorable little variety act will have boosted to its highest ratings to date. Your Cinderella moment was fun while it lasted, but tick-tock mate, it’s about to strike midnight. Call me your Fairy Asskicker cause I’m about to bippity boppity that ass all over the ring and conjure myself up a TV Title.



Prepare to be canceled; the Marf Show reaches its thrilling conclusion this Saturday on Spooky Savage!”



Betsy throws her arms outward, causing the camera to shut itself down.

FORMER