Moment of Clarity
Dec 1, 2021 6:46:52 GMT -5
via mobile
CJ Phoenix, Dandy DiVito, and 5 more like this
Post by Jill Park on Dec 1, 2021 6:46:52 GMT -5
“Dandy fuckin DiVito. The aCtiOn WrEsTlInG oRiGinAl. This is part of the “old guard” of Action Wrestling. We all know what that means, right? That’s the segment of the roster that was scared as hell when I came bursting through the doors. The same ones that want to be certain I don’t succeed. The same fuckin’ gnarly toothed bitch that has spent years TRYING to discredit Lissie Hope. This dumbass would yell out for anyone who had the misfortune of listening to his egomaniacal drivel, about seven day reign! Seven day reign! That didn’t age too well did it my boy? It didn’t line up well when YOU became a two pump chump at Execution. When YOU got fuckin’ embarrassed by the coronation of Kyle Kemp.
I’ve not even won that belt, so I have no room to talk, right Dandy? I ain’t got nothing to show off, let's be real. I haven’t done anything yet. That’s what you old timers keep on saying, right? And you are fuckin’ PRAYING that I listen to that gaslighting bullshit. That’s why I bring up Lissie, because it's the same fuckin’ tactic. Didn’t work then, and it ain’t gonna work now. You wanna try and act holier-than-thou and as if you’re ACTUALLY gonna be more honest, and better? Like you ain’t the fuckin’ same scumbag you’ve always been; the same fuckin’ scumbag you’ll always fucking be. That’s why when the likes of you see me crashing onto the scene, you practically wet yourself thinking about what exactly I represent.
That’s kinda the funny thing about this hate boner that Dandy and Kemp have for one another. Whether they’ll admit to it or not, they are exactly alike. They think they’re beyond reproach. They think it is their sworn duty to be some sort of gatekeepers of Action Wrestling. They’re attitudes are the same ones that I’ve been putting to rest FROM THE START. The ole boys network wanna PRETEND I ain’t a fuckin’ revolution in Action Wrestling. But that ain’t the REALITY of this situation. I ain’t some up and coming snot anymore, I’m not the fuckin’ future, I’m the god damned present.
They’ve said it all along. I’ve heard it all along. From the time I debuted MY SHOW, to Action Wrestling brass slapping me in the fuckin’ face by featuring ANOTHER reality show. Everyone in this company tried their best to undermine me. And when I accomplished something, EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM were practically lining up to denounce those successes. They, much like you, Dandy, want me to believe that any successes I have experienced in AW, mean absolutely nothing. You want me to have the perception YOU have of me, and I’ll be DAMNED if I allow YOU to shape MY reality.
You of all people should know a thing or two about shattering perceptions, Winston. At Turmoil, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Whether you want to believe it or not, whether ANYONE in AW wants to accept it or not, I will be the World Heavyweight Champion, even if I have to shatter your expectations and your perceptions with my own foot. Nothing will stand in my way, not even an ‘Action Wrestling Original’.”
Failure is always an option.
The quote from Eric Faulk rang through her mind. Of everything he’d discussed and showed her in the last couple of weeks, that was one thing that really stuck. So many in the wrestling industry practically live on cliches and there may be none more common than the “failure is not an option” trope. So to hear from her trainer that failure is always an option, it really stuck.
“Failure is always an option.” She repeated.
“What?”
Jill was thrust back into reality as she stood in the Gray Belt. A big, burly man stood across from her, with a scowl on his face. This wasn’t the rookie she’d throttled the last time she sparred here. This was clearly one of the more experienced wrestlers in the place.
He shot forward, but Jill rolled forward to evade. As he turned around, she slapped him in the face.
“Keep your head in it, Jill!
Bronson, don’t take that lying down!”
Eric Faulk yelled from the apron. Bronson nodded as Jill actually turned her back to face Faulk. A mistake she’d made before, Faulk looked displeased but did not say anything about it. As expected, Bronson looked to pounce on the blunder, but Jill caught him with a back elbow, causing the big man to stagger back as a drop of blood trickled from his nose.
Jill quickly tried to sneak past him but he caught her with one arm and tossed her backward into a corner.
“Jill! Plan, adapt, overcome!”
Bronson charged in, but another elbow caught him in the nose again, crunching it as blood freely poured now. He fell to the ground and Jill leapt forward, seeking her signature curb stomp, but Bronson caught her in a fireman’s carry.
It was a situation Jill had put herself in, countless times in the ring. She was so amped to hit that curb stomp finish, she often tried it on opponents not sufficiently weakened. She quickly elbowed her way out, but her frustration grew. She glared at Faulk for a brief second and his glare was telling. Of course he knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking it too.
Her lack of focus costs her again as Bronson cracks her with an ax handle to her shoulder. She falls into the corner again. He whips her across the ring, but Jill springboards off the ropes and backflips over a charging Bronson. As he turns, she catches him with a superkick, causing him to crumble to his knees. She thinks about the curb stomp for a moment, evident by her body language. Instead though, she runs up and kicks him in the head, and then nails a Curb Stomp!
Jill rolls to her feet and then slides out of the ring, getting face to face with Faulk. Unlike almost every other interaction she’s had with the retired wrestler, he looked pleased.
“You made a mistake. But you weathered the storm and got the chance again. This time, you recognized the situation and made sure you didn’t make the same mistake. That’s exactly the kind of awareness you’ve been lacking. Impressive.”
He patted her on the back as she went towards the locker room.
Jill Park was seated on a bench in the locker room area. She was no longer dressed in her wrestling attire, now changed into a t-shirt and jeans. Her gym bag was zipped closed and sat on the floor next to her.
Her gaze cranes up to meet Eric Faulk as he casually strolls into the room. His eyes were fixed on her. “How do you feel?” The question seemed out of place, and her reaction highlighted that. Her face contorted in a weird side glare at Eric. “What?”
“You came here for a reason. I know I’ve been pretty hard on you, because that’s what you needed. We both know that.”
“Do we?” She scoffed. Her usual attitude had washed over her briefly lived, more thoughtful demeanour.
“Yeah,” He insisted. “We do. Let me ask you one more thing. What are you scared of?”
The question hit hard. Eric Faulk was unlike any other fixture in Jill Park’s life. Different than an intern or any other staff on her reality show. Different than any number of AW personnel she could abuse and mistreat without impunity. He wasn’t going to allow her to pull the same tricks she was used to. Maybe that’s why she’d stuck around, if she was being honest with herself.
“So, am I a villain yet, sensei?”
Her tone was undoubtedly mocking. She had no interest in answering his question, despite the fact that he already knew the answer, and she was fully aware of that.
“I don’t know.” He said flatly, refusing to engage in whatever game she thought she was playing.
“I guess you’ll find out on Sunday.”
With that said, Faulk turned and exited the locker room without another word. The door swung shut, and Jill Park was once again alone. She slowly stood and briefly stared at her gym bag before walking over to a mirror.
“What am I scared of? Give me a fucking break. I’ve come here. I’ve put in the work. I’ve let myself be vulnerable. What am I scared of? Absolutely nothing.”
She chuckled at the realization that she was speaking to herself in the mirror. Despite her short temper, she realized something. This was as sure of herself as she ever. She owed that to Eric Faulk. She had come to him on a whim about a self-help book and the knowledge he was a retired professional wrestler. He had allowed-No, forced herself to look within. Something nobody else had the gall to even suggest. She had walked through life with little to no consequences. It is likely what led to the “princess complex” so many saw when they saw Jill Park.
But there was so much more. Jill always knew that. Hell, she always said that. Nobody was willing to believe that. Nobody was willing to believe in her. In a way, that reinforced her behaviour for so long. Turmoil could be the start of a fresh, new start.
“I’m no role model.” She proclaimed to herself in the mirror. “I’m not trying to be one, and I’m not one. I’m not some paragon of virtue.” She smirked. In some weird way, she needed to hear this, even if it was her that was saying it.
“Everyone wants to lay their expectations at my feet. They want their perceptions of what I am and who I am to become reality, but it’s simply not the case. This isn’t an identity crisis, it’s a revelation. When people look at me, it doesn’t matter what they think they see.
I know what I see when I look in this mirror. I see Jill Park.
The next Action Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion.
Everyone wants to deny it. To deny me. To make excuses for everyone else. They do not WANT me to ascend to the platform I am destined to claim. But that doesn’t matter. Their need for my insecurity; their need for my failure will not make it so.
I’m the one in control. Nobody is going to dictate to me who I am, or who I will be.
Nobody.”
“Everyone wants to talk about me manufacturing my own title shot, are we forgetting about Carter Shaw? I mean, don’t get me wrong. He was a great World Champion. He showed true grit and determination, something that clearly sets him apart from Kyle Kemp. I won’t lie to you, I kind of like Shaw. I thought we had a real good team on Clash, until he decided I wasn’t useful to his plan anymore. That might appear like a pretty typical play, given it was the last show before Turmoil. He left me for the wolves. It might even be inconsequential if it weren’t so typical of Shaw. That’s his whole shtick isn’t it? After Philidor Holdings propped him up and ENSURED he remained Champion on several occasions this year, isn’t that not exactly what he did to them? Once they had a clear weak point, Carter Shaw left.
I think that’s incredibly telling. Shaw wants to be a revolution. He wants to be the change in the business. He wants to usher in a new era, but he doesn’t wanna do the leg work. Shaw prides himself, seemingly, on work ethic and determination but it’s a smoke and mirrors show. Shaw is not gonna be a revolution, merely a footnote in MY revolution. I am the one that’s going to break the barriers, and I’m the one that’s gonna fuckin’ change Action Wrestling forever, not some weak-willed snake oil salesman with daddy issues.
Shaw may be slightly less intolerable than Dandy or Kemp, but just barely. I mean, I do have to respect the fact that Shaw played both Dandy and Kemp like a couple of fiddles for months on end. Hell, Shaw probably had more to do with the destruction of The Following than any of its members did, and that’s community service if nothing else. So, I thank you for that.
But you ain’t got a friend in me, Shaw. Saying you’re more tolerable than either Kemp or Dandy isn’t much of a compliment. That’s a bar that’s flush with the ground. We all know the end game here, ain’t no friends here. No alliances. No nothing. But that also don’t mean you don’t have a receipt coming your way for your actions from Clash.
Fret not, Shaw. There will be plenty of those when I hold the Action Wrestling World Championship. You won’t be alone. In fact, I may even let you shine up the belt for my coronation on the following Monday Night Clash, since your corporate gig is now up in smoke. I may be a big star, and I may become an even bigger star on December 5th, but I never forget the little guy!
I hope you don’t forget either, Shaw. I hope you don’t forget that you were once the budding rookie, and look at you now. You may have been smart about it, but I’m not an idiot. You don’t think much more differently than Kemp or Dandy. And that’s fine, cause you’ll fall all the same. The coronation of Jill Park will still be at your expense, like it will theirs.
“My phone has been going nuts all week.”
The voice of Jill Park’s voice cuts through the darkness, and the scene slowly fades in to show her in her kitchen. She’s dressed in a bright red parka with a matching scarf, along with a pair of black leggings. A couple of suitcases that sat at the end of the room by the door, pointed to the fact that she was about to depart for Chicago.
“I’m getting interview requests, commercial requests, everything. I’m already a STAR in every sense of the word. There is just ONE thing missing.”
With a devious smirk, she motions around her waist, that unmistakable gesture for Championship gold.
That’s what it all comes down to is I am facing the World Champion, and two former World Champions. I am the only person in this match that has not won that title, or even challenged for it before. Yet, in just nine months I’m as big a deal as ANY of them. You can scoff at that, or try and dispute it, I don’t care. Troll on twitter, bitch on facebook, do whatever incel fuckin’ marks like to do. I’ve proved people wrong since day one, and Turmoil ain’t gonna be no different.
“While the likes of Kemp, Shaw, and Dandy have engaged in dick-waving exercises, I have quietly moved mountains. I’ve defeated highly respected veterans. I’ve destroyed legends. I didn’t need The Following. I didn’t need Philidor Holdings. I didn’t need anybody.
Just Jill. GODDAMN. PARK.
And that’s all I’ll need at Turmoil, when I become the NEW World Heavyweight Champion.”
There she was again. Standing in front of a mirror. This time however, she wasn’t at Gray Belt. She wasn’t in the midst of training. She didn’t have someone in her ear, telling her what she ought to think or what she ought to do about those thoughts. She was alone, in her bathroom, having just stepped from the shower. She had to wipe down the fogged up glass just to see her reflection. This time, it wasn’t her ‘showtime’ face. It wasn’t her face after undergoing an MTV sponsored beauty regimen before License to Jill. It wasn’t an Action Wrestling employed makeup artist’s masterpiece. It was Jill Park, as natural as she could be. Both literally and figuratively, as she once again stared into her own powerful blue eyes.
Her mind raced. She wasn’t thinking about how pale her skin was without her usual foundation or how her lashes seemed below average in this light. It was as if, in this moment, all sense of narcissism had been wiped from her mind. Instead, her failures had begun flashing through her mind. She remembered losing to Sam Kidsgrove at Glory. She remembered watching Kyle Kemp pull down the All-In briefcase at Uprising. She then saw Kemp again, laughing and celebrating his win over her at Execution. More recently, she recalled being planted by Dandy DiVito on Clash, despite her having won the match for her team moments earlier.
She slammed her first on the marble vanity top, shaking the entire thing. A scowl found its way to her face. Her failures were all she remembered. She had a phenomenal rookie year in Action Wrestling, despite debuting in late March. In nine months, she had become a household name in Action Wrestling. She had risen to Main Event stature and invoked a level of response from the crowd that most wrestlers can only hope for, and very few actually achieve. She had put down legends, and proved her critics wrong at every turn.
Despite all of that, her failures were what was front and center in her mind. Her failures were what drove her further ahead, not her successes. More recently, it drove her to enroll in Gray Belt and work on the weak spots she begrudgingly admitted to having. It had been an awkward transition, but an important one.
“The night is nearly here.
December 5th. Turmoil. The World Heavyweight Championship.”
She had said the words before, but hadn’t really listened. Her heart raced as she spoke them aloud this time. It sank in that this was what was at stake. The war of words with Kemp all the way back during the road to Uprising had ultimately led to this moment. Once Dandy and Shaw were thrown into the mix, Jill had suddenly found herself in a potential career-defining match.
She looked down for a brief moment, and then back up into the mirror. She was reminded of a familiar question she had heard many times in the last couple of weeks.
“What do you see?”
This time, self-doubt was not what was clearly evident on her features.She smirked. She said it one more time, with enthusiasm. She was telling herself. This was a fact, not an opinion.
“I’m a villain.”
“Here we are again, Kemp. It’s only been a few short months, but we’ve been intertwined ever since Uprising. Through it all you’ve done everything in your power to discredit me, and to pretend that I wasn’t a threat to you, or later, a threat to your title. Even after I BEAT YOU on Clash. You’re determined to play this tired little game. This too cool for school bullshit you wanna play. This whole persona is based around the lame old catchphrase of “I’m better than you”. Every single time I hear that STUPID phrase spat from your mouth, I swear to GOD, I want to cave your fucking skull in. But there you are, gleefully spouting it every chance you get. The only problem with that, Kemp, is it's a fallacy, and you know it. When people remember Execution, they will undoubtedly remember the ending of you, Kemp, cashing in on Dandy and becoming World Champion, and rightfully so.
But that’s not what I remember. You know what I remember? I remember Kyle Kemp barely surviving Jill Park. I remember you getting me with a fucking ROLLUP and getting the hell out of the ring. You thought it was hilarious. I was embarrassed. Maybe not as embarrassed as Dandy DiVito was later in the night, but still. I also remember hanging out in my five-star hotel accommodations and seeing you cash in on DiVito. I remember seeing the man who just BARELY survived his match with me, holding up the Action Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship. I had to hear you gloat, and I had to hear that dreadful catch phrase time and time again, all the while knowing deep down. I had you. I could have prevented this entire reign. I could have STOPPED Kyle Kemp.
But I didn’t.
Fast-forward to now. Turmoil. You wanted this match. That’s the funny thing to me, Kemp. For all your posturing and all of your insistence on being simply better, you need this as much as any of the challengers do. You need this ego trip. You just NEEDED to try and flex and challenge all three of us. You need, more than anything, to be viewed as THE GUY. But by now, I’m sure the realization is starting to sink in. You can’t do it. You’ve made your bed, and at Turmoil, it will be time to lie in it. Your ego trip that you’ve been on for months will finally catch up to you. You will FINALLY feel the consequences of your own actions.
It won’t just be your ego taking a hit. It won’t be just losing your title before your reign can even begin. It will also be a once in a lifetime event. With your downfall, will be the coronation of Jill Park. It will be everything I’ve strived for since I got here. Nobody wanted me in this spot, and nobody believes I will ascend to that spot. Not one person believes in my passion, and they label me as a reality star or fame drunk or any number of other dismissive phrases.
What really is amusing to me is, you asked for this you dumb mother fucker. You had such an ego trip that YOU REQUESTED this fatal fourway match. I can’t actually think of anything that could be more of a karmic justice than for you to LOSE the World Title, in your very first defence, due to your own dick swinging. The undeniable fact is that yes, I may be an underdog. I may be the odd one out in this title picture in alot of minds, but you, Kemp? Nobody believes in you. Nobody thinks FOR A SECOND that you will be Champion after Turmoil. It’s a situation that has been entirely created by you, and that’s glorious.
That’s only part of the equation though, Kemp. You may have dug your grave from the start, but I’m about to be the one to fill it.
When I stand tall, the World Heavyweight Championship firmly in my grasp. You, and the rest of this company will be forced to bow at my feet and accept that I’m better than Kyle Kemp. Better than Dandy DiVito. Better than Carter Shaw. Better. Than. Everyone.
Nothing will stand in my way, not even the first Grand Slam Champion. Not even you, Kemp. It’s fitting that it ends this way. You’ve run your mouth the entire time you’ve been at odds with me. You’ve played mind games and you’ve tried to discredit me.
It’s payback time.”
December 5th
Chicago Illinois
After all the talk, the attacks, the wins...the losses...after it all, Jill Park’s rookie year would culminate on this night. This was Turmoil. Everything Jill had strived for, everything she had endured had led to this moment. The reality show to get her name out there. The attacks on FPV and QDT gave her a level of infamy unrivaled by most. Her feud with Kemp put her on the map and now she had his title reign; she had the World Heavyweight Championship in her sights. She had missed before with Kemp, and she knew she couldn’t do it again. She may be a household name now, but to win here tonight in Chicago? That meant everything.
Then, she heard it.
“I ain’t your friend or anything, Damn.”
She snapped out of it. She was mere feet from the entrance ramp.
“Showtime.”
I’ve not even won that belt, so I have no room to talk, right Dandy? I ain’t got nothing to show off, let's be real. I haven’t done anything yet. That’s what you old timers keep on saying, right? And you are fuckin’ PRAYING that I listen to that gaslighting bullshit. That’s why I bring up Lissie, because it's the same fuckin’ tactic. Didn’t work then, and it ain’t gonna work now. You wanna try and act holier-than-thou and as if you’re ACTUALLY gonna be more honest, and better? Like you ain’t the fuckin’ same scumbag you’ve always been; the same fuckin’ scumbag you’ll always fucking be. That’s why when the likes of you see me crashing onto the scene, you practically wet yourself thinking about what exactly I represent.
That’s kinda the funny thing about this hate boner that Dandy and Kemp have for one another. Whether they’ll admit to it or not, they are exactly alike. They think they’re beyond reproach. They think it is their sworn duty to be some sort of gatekeepers of Action Wrestling. They’re attitudes are the same ones that I’ve been putting to rest FROM THE START. The ole boys network wanna PRETEND I ain’t a fuckin’ revolution in Action Wrestling. But that ain’t the REALITY of this situation. I ain’t some up and coming snot anymore, I’m not the fuckin’ future, I’m the god damned present.
They’ve said it all along. I’ve heard it all along. From the time I debuted MY SHOW, to Action Wrestling brass slapping me in the fuckin’ face by featuring ANOTHER reality show. Everyone in this company tried their best to undermine me. And when I accomplished something, EVERY LAST ONE OF THEM were practically lining up to denounce those successes. They, much like you, Dandy, want me to believe that any successes I have experienced in AW, mean absolutely nothing. You want me to have the perception YOU have of me, and I’ll be DAMNED if I allow YOU to shape MY reality.
You of all people should know a thing or two about shattering perceptions, Winston. At Turmoil, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Whether you want to believe it or not, whether ANYONE in AW wants to accept it or not, I will be the World Heavyweight Champion, even if I have to shatter your expectations and your perceptions with my own foot. Nothing will stand in my way, not even an ‘Action Wrestling Original’.”
Failure is always an option.
The quote from Eric Faulk rang through her mind. Of everything he’d discussed and showed her in the last couple of weeks, that was one thing that really stuck. So many in the wrestling industry practically live on cliches and there may be none more common than the “failure is not an option” trope. So to hear from her trainer that failure is always an option, it really stuck.
“Failure is always an option.” She repeated.
“What?”
Jill was thrust back into reality as she stood in the Gray Belt. A big, burly man stood across from her, with a scowl on his face. This wasn’t the rookie she’d throttled the last time she sparred here. This was clearly one of the more experienced wrestlers in the place.
He shot forward, but Jill rolled forward to evade. As he turned around, she slapped him in the face.
“Keep your head in it, Jill!
Bronson, don’t take that lying down!”
Eric Faulk yelled from the apron. Bronson nodded as Jill actually turned her back to face Faulk. A mistake she’d made before, Faulk looked displeased but did not say anything about it. As expected, Bronson looked to pounce on the blunder, but Jill caught him with a back elbow, causing the big man to stagger back as a drop of blood trickled from his nose.
Jill quickly tried to sneak past him but he caught her with one arm and tossed her backward into a corner.
“Jill! Plan, adapt, overcome!”
Bronson charged in, but another elbow caught him in the nose again, crunching it as blood freely poured now. He fell to the ground and Jill leapt forward, seeking her signature curb stomp, but Bronson caught her in a fireman’s carry.
It was a situation Jill had put herself in, countless times in the ring. She was so amped to hit that curb stomp finish, she often tried it on opponents not sufficiently weakened. She quickly elbowed her way out, but her frustration grew. She glared at Faulk for a brief second and his glare was telling. Of course he knew what she was thinking, because he was thinking it too.
Her lack of focus costs her again as Bronson cracks her with an ax handle to her shoulder. She falls into the corner again. He whips her across the ring, but Jill springboards off the ropes and backflips over a charging Bronson. As he turns, she catches him with a superkick, causing him to crumble to his knees. She thinks about the curb stomp for a moment, evident by her body language. Instead though, she runs up and kicks him in the head, and then nails a Curb Stomp!
Jill rolls to her feet and then slides out of the ring, getting face to face with Faulk. Unlike almost every other interaction she’s had with the retired wrestler, he looked pleased.
“You made a mistake. But you weathered the storm and got the chance again. This time, you recognized the situation and made sure you didn’t make the same mistake. That’s exactly the kind of awareness you’ve been lacking. Impressive.”
He patted her on the back as she went towards the locker room.
Jill Park was seated on a bench in the locker room area. She was no longer dressed in her wrestling attire, now changed into a t-shirt and jeans. Her gym bag was zipped closed and sat on the floor next to her.
Her gaze cranes up to meet Eric Faulk as he casually strolls into the room. His eyes were fixed on her. “How do you feel?” The question seemed out of place, and her reaction highlighted that. Her face contorted in a weird side glare at Eric. “What?”
“You came here for a reason. I know I’ve been pretty hard on you, because that’s what you needed. We both know that.”
“Do we?” She scoffed. Her usual attitude had washed over her briefly lived, more thoughtful demeanour.
“Yeah,” He insisted. “We do. Let me ask you one more thing. What are you scared of?”
The question hit hard. Eric Faulk was unlike any other fixture in Jill Park’s life. Different than an intern or any other staff on her reality show. Different than any number of AW personnel she could abuse and mistreat without impunity. He wasn’t going to allow her to pull the same tricks she was used to. Maybe that’s why she’d stuck around, if she was being honest with herself.
“So, am I a villain yet, sensei?”
Her tone was undoubtedly mocking. She had no interest in answering his question, despite the fact that he already knew the answer, and she was fully aware of that.
“I don’t know.” He said flatly, refusing to engage in whatever game she thought she was playing.
“I guess you’ll find out on Sunday.”
With that said, Faulk turned and exited the locker room without another word. The door swung shut, and Jill Park was once again alone. She slowly stood and briefly stared at her gym bag before walking over to a mirror.
“What am I scared of? Give me a fucking break. I’ve come here. I’ve put in the work. I’ve let myself be vulnerable. What am I scared of? Absolutely nothing.”
She chuckled at the realization that she was speaking to herself in the mirror. Despite her short temper, she realized something. This was as sure of herself as she ever. She owed that to Eric Faulk. She had come to him on a whim about a self-help book and the knowledge he was a retired professional wrestler. He had allowed-No, forced herself to look within. Something nobody else had the gall to even suggest. She had walked through life with little to no consequences. It is likely what led to the “princess complex” so many saw when they saw Jill Park.
But there was so much more. Jill always knew that. Hell, she always said that. Nobody was willing to believe that. Nobody was willing to believe in her. In a way, that reinforced her behaviour for so long. Turmoil could be the start of a fresh, new start.
“I’m no role model.” She proclaimed to herself in the mirror. “I’m not trying to be one, and I’m not one. I’m not some paragon of virtue.” She smirked. In some weird way, she needed to hear this, even if it was her that was saying it.
“Everyone wants to lay their expectations at my feet. They want their perceptions of what I am and who I am to become reality, but it’s simply not the case. This isn’t an identity crisis, it’s a revelation. When people look at me, it doesn’t matter what they think they see.
I know what I see when I look in this mirror. I see Jill Park.
The next Action Wrestling World Heavyweight Champion.
Everyone wants to deny it. To deny me. To make excuses for everyone else. They do not WANT me to ascend to the platform I am destined to claim. But that doesn’t matter. Their need for my insecurity; their need for my failure will not make it so.
I’m the one in control. Nobody is going to dictate to me who I am, or who I will be.
Nobody.”
“Everyone wants to talk about me manufacturing my own title shot, are we forgetting about Carter Shaw? I mean, don’t get me wrong. He was a great World Champion. He showed true grit and determination, something that clearly sets him apart from Kyle Kemp. I won’t lie to you, I kind of like Shaw. I thought we had a real good team on Clash, until he decided I wasn’t useful to his plan anymore. That might appear like a pretty typical play, given it was the last show before Turmoil. He left me for the wolves. It might even be inconsequential if it weren’t so typical of Shaw. That’s his whole shtick isn’t it? After Philidor Holdings propped him up and ENSURED he remained Champion on several occasions this year, isn’t that not exactly what he did to them? Once they had a clear weak point, Carter Shaw left.
I think that’s incredibly telling. Shaw wants to be a revolution. He wants to be the change in the business. He wants to usher in a new era, but he doesn’t wanna do the leg work. Shaw prides himself, seemingly, on work ethic and determination but it’s a smoke and mirrors show. Shaw is not gonna be a revolution, merely a footnote in MY revolution. I am the one that’s going to break the barriers, and I’m the one that’s gonna fuckin’ change Action Wrestling forever, not some weak-willed snake oil salesman with daddy issues.
Shaw may be slightly less intolerable than Dandy or Kemp, but just barely. I mean, I do have to respect the fact that Shaw played both Dandy and Kemp like a couple of fiddles for months on end. Hell, Shaw probably had more to do with the destruction of The Following than any of its members did, and that’s community service if nothing else. So, I thank you for that.
But you ain’t got a friend in me, Shaw. Saying you’re more tolerable than either Kemp or Dandy isn’t much of a compliment. That’s a bar that’s flush with the ground. We all know the end game here, ain’t no friends here. No alliances. No nothing. But that also don’t mean you don’t have a receipt coming your way for your actions from Clash.
Fret not, Shaw. There will be plenty of those when I hold the Action Wrestling World Championship. You won’t be alone. In fact, I may even let you shine up the belt for my coronation on the following Monday Night Clash, since your corporate gig is now up in smoke. I may be a big star, and I may become an even bigger star on December 5th, but I never forget the little guy!
I hope you don’t forget either, Shaw. I hope you don’t forget that you were once the budding rookie, and look at you now. You may have been smart about it, but I’m not an idiot. You don’t think much more differently than Kemp or Dandy. And that’s fine, cause you’ll fall all the same. The coronation of Jill Park will still be at your expense, like it will theirs.
“My phone has been going nuts all week.”
The voice of Jill Park’s voice cuts through the darkness, and the scene slowly fades in to show her in her kitchen. She’s dressed in a bright red parka with a matching scarf, along with a pair of black leggings. A couple of suitcases that sat at the end of the room by the door, pointed to the fact that she was about to depart for Chicago.
“I’m getting interview requests, commercial requests, everything. I’m already a STAR in every sense of the word. There is just ONE thing missing.”
With a devious smirk, she motions around her waist, that unmistakable gesture for Championship gold.
That’s what it all comes down to is I am facing the World Champion, and two former World Champions. I am the only person in this match that has not won that title, or even challenged for it before. Yet, in just nine months I’m as big a deal as ANY of them. You can scoff at that, or try and dispute it, I don’t care. Troll on twitter, bitch on facebook, do whatever incel fuckin’ marks like to do. I’ve proved people wrong since day one, and Turmoil ain’t gonna be no different.
“While the likes of Kemp, Shaw, and Dandy have engaged in dick-waving exercises, I have quietly moved mountains. I’ve defeated highly respected veterans. I’ve destroyed legends. I didn’t need The Following. I didn’t need Philidor Holdings. I didn’t need anybody.
Just Jill. GODDAMN. PARK.
And that’s all I’ll need at Turmoil, when I become the NEW World Heavyweight Champion.”
There she was again. Standing in front of a mirror. This time however, she wasn’t at Gray Belt. She wasn’t in the midst of training. She didn’t have someone in her ear, telling her what she ought to think or what she ought to do about those thoughts. She was alone, in her bathroom, having just stepped from the shower. She had to wipe down the fogged up glass just to see her reflection. This time, it wasn’t her ‘showtime’ face. It wasn’t her face after undergoing an MTV sponsored beauty regimen before License to Jill. It wasn’t an Action Wrestling employed makeup artist’s masterpiece. It was Jill Park, as natural as she could be. Both literally and figuratively, as she once again stared into her own powerful blue eyes.
Her mind raced. She wasn’t thinking about how pale her skin was without her usual foundation or how her lashes seemed below average in this light. It was as if, in this moment, all sense of narcissism had been wiped from her mind. Instead, her failures had begun flashing through her mind. She remembered losing to Sam Kidsgrove at Glory. She remembered watching Kyle Kemp pull down the All-In briefcase at Uprising. She then saw Kemp again, laughing and celebrating his win over her at Execution. More recently, she recalled being planted by Dandy DiVito on Clash, despite her having won the match for her team moments earlier.
She slammed her first on the marble vanity top, shaking the entire thing. A scowl found its way to her face. Her failures were all she remembered. She had a phenomenal rookie year in Action Wrestling, despite debuting in late March. In nine months, she had become a household name in Action Wrestling. She had risen to Main Event stature and invoked a level of response from the crowd that most wrestlers can only hope for, and very few actually achieve. She had put down legends, and proved her critics wrong at every turn.
Despite all of that, her failures were what was front and center in her mind. Her failures were what drove her further ahead, not her successes. More recently, it drove her to enroll in Gray Belt and work on the weak spots she begrudgingly admitted to having. It had been an awkward transition, but an important one.
“The night is nearly here.
December 5th. Turmoil. The World Heavyweight Championship.”
She had said the words before, but hadn’t really listened. Her heart raced as she spoke them aloud this time. It sank in that this was what was at stake. The war of words with Kemp all the way back during the road to Uprising had ultimately led to this moment. Once Dandy and Shaw were thrown into the mix, Jill had suddenly found herself in a potential career-defining match.
She looked down for a brief moment, and then back up into the mirror. She was reminded of a familiar question she had heard many times in the last couple of weeks.
“What do you see?”
This time, self-doubt was not what was clearly evident on her features.She smirked. She said it one more time, with enthusiasm. She was telling herself. This was a fact, not an opinion.
“I’m a villain.”
“Here we are again, Kemp. It’s only been a few short months, but we’ve been intertwined ever since Uprising. Through it all you’ve done everything in your power to discredit me, and to pretend that I wasn’t a threat to you, or later, a threat to your title. Even after I BEAT YOU on Clash. You’re determined to play this tired little game. This too cool for school bullshit you wanna play. This whole persona is based around the lame old catchphrase of “I’m better than you”. Every single time I hear that STUPID phrase spat from your mouth, I swear to GOD, I want to cave your fucking skull in. But there you are, gleefully spouting it every chance you get. The only problem with that, Kemp, is it's a fallacy, and you know it. When people remember Execution, they will undoubtedly remember the ending of you, Kemp, cashing in on Dandy and becoming World Champion, and rightfully so.
But that’s not what I remember. You know what I remember? I remember Kyle Kemp barely surviving Jill Park. I remember you getting me with a fucking ROLLUP and getting the hell out of the ring. You thought it was hilarious. I was embarrassed. Maybe not as embarrassed as Dandy DiVito was later in the night, but still. I also remember hanging out in my five-star hotel accommodations and seeing you cash in on DiVito. I remember seeing the man who just BARELY survived his match with me, holding up the Action Wrestling World Heavyweight Championship. I had to hear you gloat, and I had to hear that dreadful catch phrase time and time again, all the while knowing deep down. I had you. I could have prevented this entire reign. I could have STOPPED Kyle Kemp.
But I didn’t.
Fast-forward to now. Turmoil. You wanted this match. That’s the funny thing to me, Kemp. For all your posturing and all of your insistence on being simply better, you need this as much as any of the challengers do. You need this ego trip. You just NEEDED to try and flex and challenge all three of us. You need, more than anything, to be viewed as THE GUY. But by now, I’m sure the realization is starting to sink in. You can’t do it. You’ve made your bed, and at Turmoil, it will be time to lie in it. Your ego trip that you’ve been on for months will finally catch up to you. You will FINALLY feel the consequences of your own actions.
It won’t just be your ego taking a hit. It won’t be just losing your title before your reign can even begin. It will also be a once in a lifetime event. With your downfall, will be the coronation of Jill Park. It will be everything I’ve strived for since I got here. Nobody wanted me in this spot, and nobody believes I will ascend to that spot. Not one person believes in my passion, and they label me as a reality star or fame drunk or any number of other dismissive phrases.
What really is amusing to me is, you asked for this you dumb mother fucker. You had such an ego trip that YOU REQUESTED this fatal fourway match. I can’t actually think of anything that could be more of a karmic justice than for you to LOSE the World Title, in your very first defence, due to your own dick swinging. The undeniable fact is that yes, I may be an underdog. I may be the odd one out in this title picture in alot of minds, but you, Kemp? Nobody believes in you. Nobody thinks FOR A SECOND that you will be Champion after Turmoil. It’s a situation that has been entirely created by you, and that’s glorious.
That’s only part of the equation though, Kemp. You may have dug your grave from the start, but I’m about to be the one to fill it.
When I stand tall, the World Heavyweight Championship firmly in my grasp. You, and the rest of this company will be forced to bow at my feet and accept that I’m better than Kyle Kemp. Better than Dandy DiVito. Better than Carter Shaw. Better. Than. Everyone.
Nothing will stand in my way, not even the first Grand Slam Champion. Not even you, Kemp. It’s fitting that it ends this way. You’ve run your mouth the entire time you’ve been at odds with me. You’ve played mind games and you’ve tried to discredit me.
It’s payback time.”
December 5th
Chicago Illinois
After all the talk, the attacks, the wins...the losses...after it all, Jill Park’s rookie year would culminate on this night. This was Turmoil. Everything Jill had strived for, everything she had endured had led to this moment. The reality show to get her name out there. The attacks on FPV and QDT gave her a level of infamy unrivaled by most. Her feud with Kemp put her on the map and now she had his title reign; she had the World Heavyweight Championship in her sights. She had missed before with Kemp, and she knew she couldn’t do it again. She may be a household name now, but to win here tonight in Chicago? That meant everything.
Then, she heard it.
“I ain’t your friend or anything, Damn.”
She snapped out of it. She was mere feet from the entrance ramp.
“Showtime.”