A transmission link breaks through the main broadcasting booth during the replay of Pro-Wrestling EXCELLENCE's debut show, Strategic Assault. Panicked board controllers hastily attempt to rectify the interference, but whoever has taken control has them hoodwinked. A hologram projection appears in the form of the Impossible Traveler herself. The image flickers a bit, giving away just how far she might actually be. She speaks loudly, wisely knowing she’d have to contend with the audio being grainy and pitched.
“This is Betsy Granger… If PWE is receiving this… My sincerest apologies and welcome aboard my impossible story…”
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The world as she knew it was frozen in the moment; unable to stop it, Betsy Granger feels the floor beneath her feet begin to rumble dangerously. Stumbling, she reaches out with both hands and manages to catch herself against the wall as the room is sent spinning. Pressing her back against the cool concrete, she looks over to where Chelsea Skye and Ross Hanson had just been walking towards her, engaging in friendly banter along the way. Now they stood perfectly frozen on the spot as though Betsy had randomly shouted out Red Light. They spun around with the room, seemingly glued to the floor and unaffected by what was happening. Chancing a glance around, Betsy spots Klayton Kross stuck in one of his flexed out, eye-rolling poses; with him with Ceila Luiz with her arms crossed and looking unimpressed. The room starts to spin faster; feeling nausea building, Betsy squeezes her eyes shut and waits, turning so that her stomach would press against the cool walls now. Stretching out her arms and legs, The Impossible Traveler clings to the bumpy concrete structure as though she were taking a ride on the Gravitron at the local carnival.
Minutes tick by like hours, but at long blessed last, the spinning ceases; with the room still, Betsy slides down the wall and comically lands on her behind. Folding her knees into her chest, she hides her head in between and wraps her arms about her legs, rocking slightly. Once she combats nausea threatening to take her, she lifts her head and slowly opens her eyes. The concrete wall had been turned to brick and was plastered in colorful decorations; wait, no, of course, it was black and white… Wait, color? Jumping to her feet, Betsy brushes out her polka-dotted flare skirt and looks around... Wait, flare skirt?! Looking down at herself, she realizes that she’s in a 1950’s style dance dress that was clearly daring for its time. The skirt stopped just above her knee while the bodice clung to her curves, offering just a hint of cleavage. The straps hugged her shoulders, revealing the entire collarbone, which was earning her disapproving looks from some of those around her. The gymnasium she stood in was clearly decorated by a peer-selected committee; colorful and glittering, a mixture of hearts and warriors were hung from the walls and ceilings, glowing under the dim lighting. The band on stage was singing a fun-packed little doo-wap diddy and the wooden “dance floor” was filled with couples bopping around.
“Oh, man… Now, what the heck have I gotten into?” Betsy asks herself quietly, facepalming as more familiar faces float into the scene…
======================
“I never meant for this to happen, not this quickly at least; unfortunately, the circumstances of my current situation are… delicate. And I’m afraid that you, my new locker room of peers, has been pulled into them with me. For those of you who remember… I’m truly sorry. You never should have been brought into this and used as pawns by the maniac who hunts me. For those of you who don’t…
Gather round. This is my confession…”
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Glenn Miller and his lively band pause for a moment between songs, allowing Betsy an opportunity to mingle among the dancers. Closest to the stage is Kayla Richards, in a tight black dress with the same style flair skirt as Betsy’s. Her thick, dark hair is brushed over a shoulder and held in place by a red rose; she looks around the dance floor with disdain at the other couples, clearly unimpressed with what she was seeing. Flanking her are Ashley Whitmore and Angel, looking equally as haughty as their “leader”. Surrounding the beautiful trio are Lochlane Kane, Nathaniel Cartwright, Kai Driscoll, and Jace Koufax; all of them are dressed in snazzy black suits, though the shirt and boutineers were different colors… Betsy’s sight blurs and now the world is in black and white again. Looking around, everyone is smiling and mingling happily amongst one another. Xaria Linette looks absolutely smashing, her flame-red locks swept gracefully into a ponytail high on her head, held by a white ribbon bow. Her dress of white and pink dress was clinging to her body like a dream. She stands on the opposite side of the gym as Kayla; with her are Holly Rhodes and Zoey Madigan-Star, both wearing pastel dresses of their own. All three girls seem to be engaged in a heated staring contest with the opposing clique; vying for the attention of these three vixens are Klayton Cross, Tank Ferdinand, TJ Alexander, and William Blake Mason.
Just as the Impossible Traveler weaves her way through the two well-defined groups and makes her way to the bleachers, the music starts up again. The band strikes up a lively tune and the sudden tension between the groups dissipates as they break off into partners and start to jive again. Off on the edge of the dance floor, in a world that was completely their own, are new sweethearts Ross Hanson and Chelsea Skye. Longtime lovers, Damian and Tara Ayla are in another quiet area, heads close together; Betsy feels a grin tug at her face as she watches the chaperone hurry over to break them all up. Sweeping her green gaze to the bleachers, Betsy can’t help but chuckle at how the guys and gals sat on opposite sides. Ciela Luiz is a vision in a dark green dress, her short black hair held by a matching green hairband. Catching Betsy’s glance, she gives the Impossible Traveler a wink and holds a finger up to her lips. Smirking, Betsy looks past Ciela to the sulky face of the woman known only as The Bomb, who looked ready to drop a few of her namesakes on the dance floor. On the other side of the bleachers, Allen Chaney sat with his arms crossed over his chest, his messy suit jacket buttoned unevenly, his joke flower ready to be sprayed in some unsuspecting idiot's face. Lewis Chad Pinkston looks entirely out of his element, hanging out in the shadows at the very top of the bleachers.
Taking a seat in the very middle, Betsy stares out onto the dance floor wondrously, unwittingly falling into the scene around her. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, more or less, so who was she to interrupt the energy? Her only regret, as she looked longingly at the dancing couples, was having no one to share this with herself…
And just like that, the world shifts and she’s snapped out of the gymnasium; but all around her, the PWE roster is still decked out like it was a 50's night...
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“Before we get started with the fun bit, I’d like to get a few things out of the way.
Starting with the fact that my being here has involved all you, friends and foes alike, into an intergalactic chess match. Without getting too deep into the details, there is a more going on out there-”
The hologram gestures around herself widely
“-than some of you are willing to realize and accept. And I am only just realizing my place in the glorious, twisted mess of our little galaxy. Anyone who has ever told you that your place in the universe doesn’t matter is a liar; I want you to shake that misconception straight out of your brains and widen your gaze. Everyone has a purpose in the endless strings of stardust and time that bind us together; neverending and ever onward. Earth… Humans… Both are so young in their existence. And can we all agree that humans have no issues showing just how young and dumb we are? For every one open-minded individual are ten more following close behind who continue to resist what could be? Frightened by what possibilities lie beyond the realm of their tiny reality.
Ego at its zenith, but we’ll circle back to that.
It would be rude to turn a sincere apology into a shoot.
Sooo… Yeah. My opponent made a rather unexpected move at your expense, as well as mine. I’m afraid having Betsy Granger around is an invitation for trouble in the strangest varieties. All I ask of each of you is that you expand your mind a bit and allow yourself to suspend your disbelief for a while. The landscape is changing on a universal level and all of us will find ourselves facing the impossible. I’m afraid my own nature has invited this chaos to our doorstep, but I had to know the truth of my identity. Unfortunately, it unlocked more than just memories; malevolent forces are ripping apart the very fabric of reality to find me. And I know it’s coming, so before you point fingers of blame or call me insane, I’ll have you know this…
I’m not the only one; there are others who have made Earth their favorite place to be. Some are refugees sent here to be saved, like me; some came here like Ciela Luiz, hoping to create a better future for her life. Others are runaways and castoffs just looking to find a little peace and happiness. Earth is a simple planet, with just the right amount of evolution behind it to maintain a quiet, relatively well-hidden life. At least, it was until all of us started coming here; different time and space technology, all expelling space and time energy into a fragile atmosphere like Earth’s. It was inevitable that this charming little blue ball would gain the attention of more dangerous forces lurking outside of it.
And it turns out professional wrestling is a hotbed for folks like us.”
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Betsy looks around, startled out of her reverie as the frozen images around her fade in and out like static. From black and white 50’s teens to the modern-day warriors they truly were, in and out; wash, rinse, repeat. Rising from the bleachers on which she sat, she begins walking around the room again, this time taking a closer look at her surroundings. The gymnasium flickers and flashes between the arena she had just been walking through. Green eyes harden like emeralds as they narrow, her hands slowly cupping her hips as she halts herself.
“You’re getting sloppy,” she remarks over her shoulder as a powerful presence emerges from behind.
Black and white fill the world as the band picks up right where it left off. The dancers were still scattered about the floor, none of them the wiser of what was happening around them. This time, however, Betsy wasn’t taken in by the illusion; she shimmies her way between the odd couples and makes her way to the stage. That’s when she realizes that “Glenn Miller” was nothing more than an android, mindlessly conducting a mechanical band. Peering out into the crowd, Betsy begins looking in earnest for the being that was tampering with her world. A voice echoes through the room from the shadows as a pair of glowing red eyes finally emerge from the darkness.
“Or perhaps you are just catching on faster.” The voice that responds is modulated and cool; stepping from the shadows, a tall, powerful-looking male Chiss presents himself to her. He’s dressed in traditional Chiss military garb; despite his noble status, it was no secret this particular man was prouder of his status as an Admiral. Jet black hair is slicked back against his scalp, his blue skin brighter than normal due to Earth’s rich oxygen levels. His loose garbs rustle as he joins her by the stage, holding an inviting hand out to her.
Even though the man repulses her to the very core of her being, Betsy accepts his hand as everything flickers back into sudden motion. The music is loud and cheery and the wrestlers trapped in the time freeze were once again boogying down. Her mysterious partner dances her around the floor with surprising grace, allowing them to blend in with her unsuspecting peers. Betsy glares up into his face, but he remains unrattled by her hostility, the polite smile remaining on his lips. Even though the man disgusted her, one couldn’t help but admire the chiseled features of his face, or the powerful form he carried around under his military garb. It was a pity, if he had been a touch less ruthlessly evil, the prospect wouldn’t be as horrible in practice as it was in thought. Not for her, of course; the Admiral was well aware that he’d have a better chance ripping apart the very fabric of time and space before willingly taking her from the arms of James Raven.
He was as yet undeterred in his quest…
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“That brings me to the most common thing I tend to hear when people finally DO begin to accept what is. ‘Why don’t you go back and change the future, Betsy?’ Come on, has nobody watched ANYTHING about messing with time? Fixed points are a thing, folks; never forget the ever-present butterfly. If I were to pluck its precious, pretty wings off, I could single-handedly bring about World War 3, 4, and 5. And believe me, people, when they happen… They aren’t pretty. We’re not ready, so don’t rush it along. And that’s not even getting into the paradoxes I could cause by having more than one Betsy Granger in a single timeline. Bad news, peeps; best not to mess with all that noise. Losing a few matches compares to ripping apart reality itself… I know which one I’ll choose.
If you’re still with me at this point, bless your bored heart. But I promise we’re getting to the meat of the story now.”
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Betsy manages to spin away from his firm grip and disappears into the crowd. A soft chuckle escapes the unerringly patient Admiral as he crosses his hands behind his back. If she could get to Excellence before he reached her again, she might be able to get him back to his ship without jeopardizing anybody else.
“I know you want to get to that clever little ship of yours, Lady Orianna; I wouldn’t bother trying, you must know that I have it well-guarded.” He pauses the world around them, allowing his soft voice to float between the bodies into her ear.
Praying she has enough time to pull off her madcap plan, Betsy ducks behind the mammoth figure of Jace Koufax, who seemed to have his eyes trained on the ample behind of Angel. Looking around, she spots the Admiral getting closer, his pace never slowing as he heads to where she’s hiding. A small beep from the contraption in her hand gives away her location fully; just as she reaches her feet, the Admiral reaches her. Strong arms wrap around her, trapping her in place as his eyes brighten a bit more. Betsy tips her head back and looks up at him demurely, a sly smile spreading across her lips.
“Looks like you’ve caught me, Admiral.” She says with a purr.
The Admiral looks pleased for all of a moment before his red eyes narrow, his gaze suspicious. “You wouldn’t make it this easy.”
“There's no getting anything past you, is there?” Betsy says with a smirk, and before he could stop her, she presses the button of the vortex manipulator.
The Admiral continues to cling to her tightly as the obvious signs of nausea cross his face. The trip is a short one for him, however, moments later, they are on the command deck of his personal Star Cruiser. The rough landing forces the Admiral to let her go, giving Betsy enough time to spin out of his reach. She quickly taps the buttons of the Navi-pad, hoping the startled galactic soldiers aboard the ship would be slow to react. The Admiral himself recovers quickly and his voice is no longer cool and even. His anger shows on his face as he points a finger in her direction, walking towards her with a domineering gait. She crouches into a defensive stance, hiding the vortex manipulator behind her.
“This ends here,” Betsy growls, causing the Admiral to halt his pace.
His gaze and tone of voice match hers. “This doesn’t end until you deliver on what was promised, Lady Orianna.”
“For the last time, Admiral… My name is Betsy Granger, always and forever. And it’s time for you to go.”
Before he can object, something strikes from outside of the ship; everyone staggers as the ship lurches wildly. The Admiral looks to Betsy, who has managed to stumble away from any nearby Chiss soldiers. They lock eyes, glowing red on bright green for only a moment; grinning cheekily, Betsy holds up the vortex manipulator. As the Admiral lunges for her, she presses the button and dematerializes from the spot, causing the Admiral to catch empty air.
======================
“So that’s about where we’re at, but I’m still in the middle of a battle zone. I don’t want any of the Chiss ships to follow me back into Earth’s orbit; nor do I want them chilling anywhere in our galaxy. I’m pressing my luck, but I wanted to make sure PWE didn’t think I was slipping on the uptake already.
On the contrary, I’m coming into the inaugural Victory to make history by becoming your first EXCELLENCE Champion.”
A shot clearly hits Excellence as Betsy is momentarily taken off balance. The hologram turns to static for several moments before Betsy reconnects the transmission.
“The stage has been set and my first round is no picnic from the looks of things. Starting right off the bat with one half of my newest favorite ship, Ross Hanson. We’ve already gotten to be buddy-buddy over the Twittersphere, but this isn’t the time for friendly banter or sympathy. I know you’ve gotten a lot of unlucky shit thrown your way recently, but take heart in what you’ve gained. No matter what gets thrown your way, the universe (and myself) saw fit to throw you a bone named Chelsea Skye. And since I brought her up, I’ll tell both of you this together as much as you hate to hear it: Klayton and Kayla were right.”
Betsy physically gags as she says the last three words. Putting one hand over her mouth, she holds up a finger on the other asking for a moment. When she'd regained her composure, she carries on.
“Part of being a wrestling couple is having the inevitable task of staring down your lover from across the ring. Take it from someone who thought she’d be facing her man for a world title a mere three months into the revival of her career: it’s exhilarating. It’s exhausting, emotionally, mentally and if you’re lucky, physically. Unfortunately, I never did get a chance to go at it with James, which is a shame and a blessing. Foreplay at its finest, but with the richest prize in that company at stake, how long until it gets TOO personal? If you can’t find the balance it takes to accept that one or the other may have to go over, maybe this pairing wasn’t a good idea.
I think you’ve both got a handle on this though… And if not, well... We can still get burgers and beer after the fight? You seem like a solidly cool cat, but you really do display a bit of a meathead mentality from time to time. If you’re genuinely worried I can’t find a way to get you over the top rope, never fear; I’d like to invite you to watch the 2020 GCWA Righteous Rumble. It’s not always about overpowering your opponent, amigo, and as you’ll soon find out, I’ve toppled much bigger than you.”
She smirks as she taps her temple, indicating a superior source of power.
“That said, please don’t give Kayla Richards another opportunity to be right. Just saying the very words make me want to projectile vomit everywhere; I’m talking full-on pea-soup, Exorcist style shit. I know you’ve got a beef growing with her, Chels, but I have a feeling she and I will be seeing one another soon enough… Isn’t that right, Kay? It’s well documented that Kay-Kay doesn’t like me, which pretty much tracks as she doesn’t like ANYONE. She kind of reminds me of the monster that’s been pursuing me: a frigid, soul-sucking drag of a human with nothing to her but a haughty glare and a mean streak a mile wide. Lucky for me, I didn’t come here to try and sway her opinion; if nothing else, I’ll turn her dislike into loathing by the end of Victory numero uno. Because there’s a pretty solid chance it could come down to her and me for the EXCELLENCE championship and the look on her face when I defeat her for it would be glorious. I don’t mean that as a slant to those like The Bomb and TJ Alexander… Or most of you new-ish kids, for that matter. Not at all meant as a slight; as it happens, I’m looking forward to furthering my character studies on this roster. I get to experience at least one of you in that first round alone…Angel, looking at you girlie…
For as glittery-new as Angel is looking about now, it makes some of the others look like relics in a museum. Most of them get better with experience… Hell, can we take a moment to talk about William Blake Mason? Talk about aging like a vintage out of Bordeaux; you look amazing, bud. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you in top physical form like this; I can’t wait to see how that translates in the ring. Here’s hoping you haven’t lost it where it counts in there. I always did admire the work you put out; it’s just too bad you’re kind of a dick of a human being. At least, that’s how I seem to remember you, but take that with a grain of salt; I only had the POV and opinions of an ignorant mark at that point. I’m not here to judge, I learned quickly how much this business can change the character of a man. Second chances are something I take very seriously and if you’re here seeking yours, I’m here to support that energy. I’m sure you don’t give a fuck one way or the other, but I’m letting you know either way. Since I’m still on the subject of tenure around these parts, would now be a good time to come to Xaria Linette and my not-so-well-hidden admiration? I’ve had very few women I’ve looked up to in my life, especially inside the Holy Grounds… But when one thinks of successful female wrestling dynasties, how does one not immediately have the name Xaria Linette pass from their lips? I know, this is turning into more of a love song than a promo, but you don’t understand how hard it is for me to say something trash against her right now. My biggest hope is that the brackets allow us to face off against one another for the EXCELLENCE Championship at the end of the night…”
Betsy fans her face dramatically before her next thought turns it sour.
“Then there are those like that washed-up whale that has the nerve to call himself a comedian. Mister ‘I can’t make em’ chuckle worth a fuck’ Allen Chaney; hey buddy, fuck you. That’s it, that’s all you get out of me, you narrow-minded hack.”
She flips him off from the hologram projection before moving on.
“Then there are others, like Zoey Madigan-Star who has quietly made a name for themselves over the years. I say quietly because after doing a quick study of your accolades, it occurs to me that tag-team wrestling isn’t going to get you very far in this contest. I’d be remiss, however, if I didn’t mention that impressive reign as SRW Queen of the South champion. Not to take the shine off such a feat, I mean 439 days is impressive; but it calls into question the level of competition you had… or didn’t have, from the looks of it. I’d call into question how many defenses you actually had, but you strike me as a fighting champion. Look girlfriend, I’m not here to shit all over what you’ve accomplished, you could easily be a dark horse pick for this match. You could… But you won’t get far enough to find out. I’ve got mad respect for you girl, I’ve been watching you make moves for years. We may not have had the pleasure of each other’s company in the ring as of yet, but I look forward to finding out just what you’re made of. As far as I’m concerned, as far as our match goes? The Sorceress Supreme is the one to beat… And I’m the Impossible Traveler that’s going to make it happen. You’re magic versus my science? The fans aren’t going to know what to do with themselves.
This is a far cry from Holly Rhodes, who wrestled five professional matches before taking a hiatus. Or Tank Ferdinand, whose entire entity remains unknown to me; though I gotta say, I’d really love to visit Rainbow City, so if you can give me those coordinates, I’d be forever grateful for it. I don’t know about the rest of you gals… and Ross… but Tank looks about as fun as a Sunday morning hangover. And judging from the size of those fists he’s carrying around, he could probably provide one just as efficiently. My god, you are something to behold, my Rainbow Brite of a friend. Of the two mysterious elements going into this, you are the one I’d rather not trifle with. But as I told Ross earlier, size doesn’t intimidate or stop me, so don’t mistake my hesitation for fear; I’d actually really just enjoy picking your brain and getting to Rainbow City. Maybe Holly would like to come along if she can hang with us in the match. Look girl, I understand the need to take a hiatus; I’m on my third attempt at this silly shit myself. But only five professional matches under your belt to show since 2016? Alright, look… You are a peak female specimen. You’ve got size and clear athleticism to your advantage, not to mention you are gorgeous; I have a feeling many men are going to turn to you for Death by Snu Snu. I’m just afraid you might be a bit over your head; then again, you may find yourself exactly in your element. There’s little to know about you thus far, so much like Tank, you pose an interesting enigma as far as how this match dynamic is going to go.
Or perhaps I’m just rambling to feed your ego a bit before I knock every last one of you over the top rope.”
The transmission turns static again; it takes a bit longer for Betsy to come back through this time. Her eyes are wide as another shot connects with Excellence.
“It’s time for this Impossible Traveler to sign off and take care of the business at hand, but fear not PWE!
Betsy Granger is here and I am ready to fulfill my destiny as the universe has foreseen.
For I am the Epitome of Excellence.”
With that, the transmission flickers and dies. The broadcast has returned to its regularly scheduled program.
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The silence around her was louder than the battle she had just been in the midst of. Thanks to the actions of the Rebels, she had managed to get herself out of danger and back to Earth; but where? And had everything been returned to normal? Taking in a deep breath, Betsy pushes open the doors to Excellence and looks around. Standing before the doors, staring up at her curiously, is Ollie Dorito. Their gazes lock as Betsy's breath gets shallow, her nerves working against her. Moving slowly, she steps through the doors and closes them behind her. Squatting down to Ollie's level, she tips her head and studies him. He tips his head, mimicking her.
"You aren't a Flerkin, are you buddy?"
His response is between a meow and a chirp, but Betsy smiles and reaches out a hand to scratch behind his ears. Ollie purrs and leans into it, allowing the pets to continue.
"Well, if even if you are, we're cool, okay?"
A playful nip of her fingers lets Betsy know that Ollie was finished. He turns away from her and promptly lifts his tail, proudly displaying his butthole. Getting upright again, Betsy looks around and relief fills her when she spots Klayton Kross, wearing one of his many Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirts.
"Hey you, stop trying to hit on my sister!"
His mouth drops comically as he struggles to find a reply to deny her words. With a chuckle, Betsy gives him a playful noogie before heading back to Excellence and disappearing through the doors. Suddenly exhausted, she falls into the Captain's chair in front of her control panel and falls into a restless sleep.
As soon as her eyes close, a pair of glowing red eyes appear from the shadows. They watch her, unblinking, as the sleep-inducing toxin their owner released into the air continues to send her into a disturbed, deep nap...
