“So, about my disappearance after War Games…”

Betsy Granger sits in the middle of a dark room. There are no chairs, nothing of comfort, and a single overhead light, dim and swinging from the chain it hangs from. The Traveler herself sits on a dirty floor, knees drawn up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs.

“To those who were thinking, or hoping, that I was tucking tale and running again… Happy to disappoint. I’m afraid you won’t be rid of me that easily.”

The swinging light reveals her hair, matted and unclean, hanging in clumps down her back. Holding the mini mic in her hand, she keeps her face down.

“I can bounce back from a loss; I’ve been doing it for years now. It’s just that… Look, after War Games, I found myself swept up in… urgent business.”

Swing. She lifts her head up as the light flies overhead. Her skin was sallow, her cheeks more sunken into her face than normal.

“You wouldn’t believe the… Well, exactly, you wouldn’t believe what happened, so why bother trying to explain? Everyone saw what they were supposed to see, and in the end, that becomes their truth.”

As she rambles, the light takes more sweeps overhead, revealing more. Her arms were smaller, showing a significant weight loss.

“It becomes THE truth, and that’s all people care about, because it’s easier than thinking on your own. I have a truth that should be heard, but I no longer think the occupants on this planet are ready to receive it; so with mercy, I’ll allow them to continue the lie as I readjust to whatever all of this is supposed to be.”

She gestures around as the light finally slows to a stop, remaining directly over her now. Licking her dry, cracked lips between words, she sits back, resting comfortably on her knees now.

“To those who cared, it’s been rough, but I’m back and alive. To those who wished me gone for good, fuck you, I’m worse than a cockroach. To those in my match, what the actual fuck is going on here?”

She switches her position so that she’s sitting cross-legged. Reaching into the deep pockets of her hoodie, she pulls out an icepick that would make a lobotomist breathe heavy.

“By the way; hey, XWF? Thanks so much for picking my exact nightmare location for this fucking event. We’re too close to some Forty Days of Night shit for my comfort… And somewhere along the way, the Corporate Bros got together and said ‘Hey, how can we pour fuel into this chaos and really set Betsy ablaze?”

Betsy makes a stabbing motion with the ice pick towards the camera.

“Let's put a shot at the Revolution Title on the line. Then we could throw her into a tightly confined space with a master sadist whose abby-normal brain thought up the stipulation; and a Bonafide hottie patottie who has a face I’d hate to see rearranged. Though methinks you like the pain and lady to lady, I can support that. It’s why we’re here, isn’t it? And lately, I’ve had a taste for blood myself.”

She stabs the ice pick into the dirt buildup and begins to draw.

“I hope you can take as much as you can dish, Ozzy, because a caged animal tends to go feral preeeeeetty quickly. This match may have me on some of my fears… and some of my fears. I’m not a fan of being trapped in a freezer specifically, and the company I’ve been given only complicates things. Then there’s the fucking Icepick of Damacles swinging overhead, gonna have to parkour my way up there.”

‘There’s an easier way to get out of your situation, you know.’ Paulie’s voice whispers, sending ice down her spine.

A head twitch, eyes shut, clear your mind. Taking a deep breath, Betsy opens her eyes and looks down. Her drawing was intact. Relieved, she picks up.

“I’ve taken too many losses to take it easy and play friendly. Now there’s something at stake, a chance to move forward. And I’ve got variety of pent-up emotions that need an outlet; so, if I end up sticking one of you to the wall with an icepick, please don’t take it personally. The longer I stay trapped in that room, the more unhinged I’ll become and that won’t be good for anybody. I don’t… want…”

Squeezing her eyes shut, Betsy moans as Paulie’s giggle fills her mind. ‘You can do much better than that.’

“I don’t want to hurt them.” Betsy cries out, dropping the ice pick and clapping her hands over her head.

‘Of course, not right now, but you’ll soon come around.’ Paulie replies in a gleeful tone. ‘It's cute watching you try and fight it.' His laugh reverberates through her head, driving her near to madness.

“Fuck… OFF!” Betsy growls this loudly, half a scream tearing from her throat. She redirects her attention to the camera.

“I will not fall… I can’t, for I have a Revolution to claim. Once I get through this-“ she spins the icepick in her hand. “and the two obstacles attacked. Fuck it, if I don’t get my shit together, this is gonna big tine hurt. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’ve got more of a kink for the emotional pain. Not that I can’t handle getting tossed around, but being shanked with an icepick by a big ass pain daddy doesn’t sound like a good fucking time to me. Getting pinned against the wall by Summer does, however, unless she has some of the same ideas with the icepick that I do…”

She stabs it into the floor again.

“All jokes aside, it’s time to remind folks who the fuck I am. The name is Betsy, aka the Impossible Traveler, aka the next number one contender to the Revolution Championship."

A mocking salute with the Icepick.

/End