No. She quits.

Ali shook her head.

"No," She said firmly. "I'm done."

Jack arched an eyebrow. She was pretty sure he hadn't expected that answer.

"Are you now?" He asked, curious. "You're choosing to remain a sexed up goth girl who cums herself stupid and transforms people around her by accident?"

She nodded.

"My decision's made. I can mitigate the intelligence loss. The powers are actually pretty cool, and I have a feeling if I stay in the game, things are just going to get worse."

He frowned.

"Well, I suppose if that's your choice..."

He snapped a finger, and Ali vanished.

"That was a disappointing outcome," He admitted to the camera. "But let's see who our next contestant is?"

*****

Ali felt disoriented as she suddenly found herself in her room. Not the room in her spacious two bedroom apartment, though. Her own room that she had back when she was a kid. She looked around it, stunned.

It was full of her things, and slightly messy, just like it had been when she was actually 18. Like when she was 18, there were some track trophies, a few posters of bands she liked and a smattering of punkish clothes strewn about.

All of that was normal enough, but some differences existed, too. She'd had a desktop when she was this age; a crude thing with a dial up connection. That had changed now, and her computer was a sleek, sticker baring laptop. There were arcane spell books tucked onto her shelf as well. And the years on those trophies were all wrong. Hadn't she won the regional cross country in 06? Why did it read 2020 instead?

The confusion was amplified as a pretty redhaired girl appeared in her doorway. She wore much preppier clothes than Ali, sported a curvy figure and looked to be about Ali's own age, in stark contrast to the 29 year old she'd seen last.

"Hey. You about ready?" Her younger-turned-twin sister Erica asked her. "Mom's gonna flip if we wait around much longer."

Ali blinked.

"Uhm...yeah," She finally managed. "Tell her I'll be down in a minute."

"Girls!" her mother's voice called. "Time to go. It's 7:30 already."

Cautiously, Ali slipped her way downstairs. She found her mother there, once again a vivacious woman in her late 40s rather than a tired one in her early 60s. Her hair, though beginning its turn to white, was now naturally read instead of dyed that way.

What was going on? Had the show turned back the clock on her entire life? There was really only one way to find out.