Post by Jill Park on Aug 26, 2022 20:07:13 GMT -5
“I swear to fucking god, I thought I was finally through with Kyle Kemp. Last year, in what had to be one of the most upsetting losses of my career, I watched as Kyle Kemp reached up, and took down the All-In briefcase. The briefcase, which, just moments earlier I was within fingertips of. I could hear my music playing. I could see my coronation. I could feel the World Championship around my waist.
But that was a delusion. I would not walk out the winner. I would not challenge for the Championship. Instead, I had the extreme displeasure of watching Kyle Kemp beat the shit out of that slimy fuck Dandy DiVito. I saw Kyle Kemp cash in his All-In briefcase. I saw Kyle Kemp become the fucking World Champion.
All I could think of, was it should’ve been me. I could’ve spared us all that despair. I could’ve ended Kyle Kemp’s title run before it even began.
I did still end it, eventually. Didn’t I, Kyle? At Turmoil. You wanted SO BADLY to proof you were the top dog in this company. You’d take on all comers! You talked yourself into a fatal fourway title defence, you dumb son of a bitch. I made you pay. I made you tapout. I ended your reign in disgrace and nobody saw you FOR MONTHS. It was pure bliss.
Now I know you’ve got this silly idea in your head that you’re gonna march ahead and repeat what you did one year ago. I know you’ve got this delusions of grandeur. That you’re gonna wipe the floor with EVERYONE and become a two-time World Champion.
Spoiler Alert: It’s not gonna fuckin’ happen. Not this time, Kyle. I made the mistake a year ago, of not taking you perhaps as seriously as I should have. I didn’t realize the snake you were. I know better, this time around. This time around I’ll cut your fucking head off and throw you in the trash. You’ll be nothing but a bad memory as I march forward into history. As I defy EVERYONE’S expectations ONE. MORE. TIME. As I become All-In.
You know what comes after that,
Jilly 3 belts.”
The rhythmic beep of a heart monitor is the only noise that can be heard in the otherwise silent hospital room. Remington Serroul lays under the thin hospital sheets, barely awake. She groans and shifts in the bed slightly. A knock at the door snatches her attention, and she slowly rises up to a seated position in the bed, and peers towards the doorway. A man in a black three-piece suit stares back with a smile.
“Ugh. What do you vultures want now?” Remington asked hypothetically. Her tone of voice was one of exasperation. She didn’t seem interested in an answer, as she rolled back over in the bed.
“I think you’ll want to hear me out.” He claims, nonchalantly as he takes a few steps forward, into the room and towards the bed Remington occupies.
“Fuck off.” Came her reply, without even so much as facing him.
“I know you’re a little displeased with how things turned out, but you were warned it could get dicey.”
This time, Remington did face him, lifting herself up into a sitting position again.
“She pushed me down the fucking stairs.”
“Like I said, you knew the risks.”
“That’s fucking bullshit, and you know it.”
The man nodded at Remington, saying nothing further. He then reached into his inside pocket, pulling out an envelope.
“Regardless, this is your payment.”
Remington stared blankly at him for a moment.[/color]
“So that’s it, then? You hire me to get under Jill Park’s skin, and she pushes me down a flight of stairs. She gives me a concussion, a couple of broken ribs, and a fractured ankle. So you pay me off, and pretend none of it fucking happened?”
“Well, I know that may seem harsh and unethical.” Remington still hasn’t accepted the envelope, so he drops it on the bed by her feet. “But, it’s precisely what was agreed to in your contract. Cause drama, don’t allow Miss Park to know the status of said contract, and rile her up enough. Unfortunately, you did so in a manner that has given us no choice to pull the episode to spare Miss Park the anguish of an investigation into her actions. You have been supplied an advance on your agreed upon salary, with the agreement that you sit out the remainder of said contract.”
“Figures. This is to protect her. Nothing more.”
“I suggest you take the payment, Miss Serroul. I do seem to recall your financial issues prior to License to Jill appearances. You want to keep your home, don’t you?”
Remington looked conflicted, as he walked out of the room confidently. Remington sighed and reached down for the envelope.
“CJ Phoenix is so far out of his depth, and he doesn’t even realize it. I am so fucking sick and tired of hearing about how much potential CJ has. That, given the opportunity, he has the potential to bring himself to new heights. To innovate. To astound. To rise to a whole new level.
Blah, blah, blah.
I’ve heard it the entire time I’ve been in Action Wrestling. I’ve seen it play out more times than Lissie Hope changes lovers. CJ wins a title, and you think, ‘My god, he’s done it! CJ Phoenix has realized his potential! He’s grabbed the brass ring!’ Only for him to inevitably fall flat on his face. He did it as Hardcore Champion. He did it as United States Champion. He will, without a doubt, do it as Tag Team Champion.
Congratulations, CJ. Truly.
But, come time for Uprising and the All-In Ladder match, the honeymoon phase from your title win will be long gone. You’ll be one step away from a shot at the biggest prize in this company; in this industry. You’ll stand in MY way. That, more than anything else, is what will be your downfall. As I stated just a couple of weeks ago, I do not forget what you cost me last year, and I definitely do not forgive. You COWARDLY smashed the All-In briefcase into my face. You SCREWED me out of MY SHOT. Kyle Kemp wept the rewards of your hard work, as he always does. However it’s not going to happen this year, CJ. You have a receipt coming your way, and it isn’t going to be good for you. Over the course of the last few months, I’ve shown everyone just how dangerous I can be.
But you, CJ, you’ve shown how out of the loop that you are. Nothing more blatant than your remarks a few weeks ago about Affluenza. That we are teetering on the edge. That it’s been a “will they/won’t they” situation in regards to our allegiance to one another.
Someone’s not paying attention. Which is just so like you, isn’t it, CJ? Or perhaps Spencer is rubbing off on you just a little too much. Making you just a little too selfish. Affluenza has never been stronger. We hold two Championships now, and after Uprising, we will also have possession of the All-In briefcase.
I’m much more than a ‘toddler with a handgun’ as the commie fuck put it oh so eloquently, so many times. I’m the single most destructive force in this company. I’ve proven that week in, and week out. I snuffed out Alice Gemini’s title run just last week. I am a DOUBLE CHAMPION, and I am not anywhere close to be finished yet. There’s still one more title that I have my eye on.
You know the one.
Speaking of Championships.
I would hate to say ‘I told you so’, but, well…you know.
You can beat your chest, and you could say you could manipulate me, manipulate Regan, do whatever you please to rip through our souls and destroy us all from the inside…but it’s all just posturing, isn’t it?
I took your best last week, Alice. We waged war. We beat the hell out of one another, but, as usual…I was the one who left with my arm raised. I am the one with one more title in my possession. Don’t fret, Alice, you will be a remarkable footnote in my Hall of Fame career. You will be the answer to a trivia question for ions. You can even tell your children you battled the great Jill Park, BEFORE she inevitably became World Champion and ruled Action Wrestling as a TRIPLE CHAMPION.
I showed you the lengths I’ll go to, Alice. I showed you the fortitude and determination that I have. Everybody likes to point fingers. They like to downplay everything I’ve done and will do. It’s tiring, quite frankly. However, last Monday on Clash I once again made history. It’s like I told you heading into our match: It’s what I do. I make history.
And just like I told you a week ago, I’m gonna do it again.”
“It’s nice to throw CruiserClash a bone, I guess. Making sure there is representation from the bonafide ‘B brand’. Representation matters.
Except, when it comes to giving a shot to CruiserClash, it’s always the same story. It’s always the same person.
Teo Blaze.
The Cruiserweight Champion! The man who wants to put the brand on his back and deliver the performance of a lifetime, yet again!
Spare me this delusional, self-absorbed tale this time around, will you Teo?
If you wanted to champion the brand, if you truly wanted it to grow, perhaps you’d allow any of your counterparts that spotlight, as it clearly has never done you any good. Always the representative, but you never quite nail it, do you? No, you fall flat on your face every single time, and go back to that dreadful show, and continue as normal. Perhaps what you really want to do is keep everyone else in line, and make sure they don’t eclipse you. How sad.
Just do me a favour, and stay out of my way. Or I’ll do what a lackluster gang of Canadian wrestlers couldn’t.”
But, of course, Teo sadly isn’t the only CruiserClash hack in this match.
Serenity Holmes was supposed to be a generational talent.
She came in with much fanfare, due largely to the man that happened to bang her mom. Congratulations on being born, Serenity.
I just don’t see it. You’re Andre Holmes’ daughter, fabulous. I wish I could even pretend to care, but sadly I don’t. You came in and shockingly won your first title…on CruiserClash. Again, I really wish that sounded more impressive that it is.
Despite that, you continued to try and Champion yourself as a beacon of hope. As some icon of female empowerment. Gee, why does this sound so familiar? I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere before…
Anyways. You then allowed yourself to be duped by Alice fucking Gemini. She fucked with your head, and she took your title. You haven’t really been the same since, have you? Even having a destructive-but-no, really he’s a nice guy-simp of a boyfriend hasn’t done you any favours. While Holden is out spilling his blood seemingly every week, you’re here hoping someone, anyone will take you seriously on account of your name, and little else.
At Uprising, you’ll learn yet another important life lesson that daddy-dearest likely didn’t have the heart to teach you. You don’t always get what you want. You aren’t entitled to it, Serenity. This All-In match, hell this entire SUMMER has been about ME. Nobody else has come close. I am selling out these arenas. I am giving ONCE IN A LIFETIME performances on the regular.
I am fucking transcendent, and I’m not fucking done. No way in hell are you going to stop me from ascending to my rightful throne.
It’s not going to happen.”
Sitting in a boardroom, flanked by producers and other executives had become a usual thing for Jill Park. Yet, that did not ease any of the tension that existed in the room. The disconnect could be seen without any speaking a word. The three-piece suits of the executives to the lowcut dress and heels that Jill Park wore. No amount of memos could get her to abide by a dresscode.
“I guess this is about Remington’s unfortunate incident.”
Jill’s blunt assertion broke the silence in the room like throwing a brick through a window. The expressions of everyone else at the table varied. Some seemed disgusted, while others showed no emotion whatsoever. Jill shrugged at the reception to her comment and lifted her feet onto the glass table, crossing them casually.
“Well in a way, yes.” An older, balding man across the table spoke up. “Miss Park, due to your actions last week, we had to pull an entire episode of License to Jill. We had to black out 24/7 camera feeds. We had to do so many things because of your negligence; because of your short-sightedness.”
“Short sightedness, is that what you call it?” Jill replied, a tinge of anger evident in her tone. She raised a pair of aviator sunglasses up off of her face, tossing them across the table. She also removed her feet from the table, now opting to lean over it toward the man.
“Is that what you call it when you bring these nobodies in here? When you bring them on my show with the expressed purpose of humiliating me? With taunting me? With causing this sort of bullshit drama you can find in any other fucking reality show out there?”
He seemed flustered now, but had to save face. If he faltered here, he may be gone by this time next week. “Well, this is a reality show?”
Jill’s face told the story. Wrong answer.
“I don’t give a fuck.
This isn’t like any number of the cookie cutter shows out there. I’ll remind you, that this company sought me out. That they wanted my story, my personality, and my fame. This show is about my life, my career, my fucking STORY. It is a living, breathing documentary unlike anything produced in this industry, ever.
But you want to bring in these low level actors to create drama? Are you fucking kidding me? Give me any fucking amount of resources, and I’ll create more entertaining content in my fucking sleep.”
It was at this time, that another man spoke up, closer to the end of the table, as he saw his colleague about to crumble. “With all due respect, Miss Park.
You pushed Remington down a flight of stairs.”
Jill’s facial expressions changed completely. But not like you may have expected. There was no surprise or fear. There was no trepidation. Her expression, for lack of a better word, was blank.
“Did I?” She asked, seemingly genuinely. She sounded confused.
He shifted in his seat, unsure of what she meant.
“Well yes, you did.”
“Do you have the footage?”
“As stated, we pulled all the footage. It’s been deleted as a cautionary measure.”
“So…you just think I did that. I never said I did that. You have no proof I did that.”
He could only muster an incredulous look. Silence quickly filled the room. Jill stood from her seat, and grabbed her glasses off of the table, sliding them back onto her face.
“Glad we settled that.
I think we’re done here.”
“Regan.
Oh, Regan. We always knew it would come down to this eventually. We both have stated from the very beginning that we both want the same thing. Our desires are the same. The World Championship was always our end goal. And here we are, both one step away from claiming a shot at that very Championship.
We both know what’s happening around us. We are both aware of the hopefulness that floods our colleagues minds. They hope this is it. This is the stage where Jill Park turns on Regan Voorhees, or Regan Voorhees turns on Jill Park.
As usual, we will leave them disappointed, angry, and upset. We know what’s at stake, and we know that once we step through the ropes at Uprising. We are no longer affiliated.
If you’re given the opportunity, Regan…rip my goddamn head off.
Because I can assure you, I can promise you, if given the chance, I will do the same thing to you.
“It is surprising to see Sam Kidsgrove here, again, so soon. I wil admit, I’m surprised he can even show his face at all. At Glory, Sam, you made history. When you beat Cassidy Adler, you became the first person to win the United States Championship 4 times. Hell of a feat.
Of course, that night ended with you losing the title in grand fashion, and being a Champion for a miniscule 48 minutes, and as such, giving you the distinction as having the shortest United States Championship reign in Action Wrestling history. Again, bravo.
That must have hurt, Sam. That must have really stung. Heartbreaking, I’m sure. THEN, at Meltdown, I graciously allowed you to have your rematch. And again, you couldn’t get the job done. Again, like it’s been all year, it was my time. It was my spotlight, and it was my moment. You were just a bystander. A footnote in the greatest year in Action Wrestling history.
You couldn’t beat my at Glory. You couldn’t beat me at Meltdown. And you will not stand in my way at Uprising.
Not a chance.”
“What did you do?”
Jill Park stands in front of the one person she wouldn’t lie to. The one place where she could be real. Where she could spout off on nonsensical rants or share he deepest concerns or fears. Where she could profess her biggest regrets with no hesitation. Where she wouldn’t be judged.
She was staring herself in the mirror.
Memories of Turmoil came flooding back. She had done the very same thing. She had gone to a new gym. She’d met with a new trainer and learned new insights on why she acted and reacted in the manner in which she had. After sessions with a therapist, she looked deep into her soul and answered hard-hitting questions about herself. She faced difficult truths and even more difficult feelings.
She learned new techniques. She thought she was doing all this to better herself. So that, when the Turmoil Pay-Per-View came around, she would rip through the competition. So that she would ascend the ladder, all in one night. So that she would become the Action Wrestling World Champion.
But that isn’t what happened. She was foiled by Richard DiVito and Dandy DiVito. Her “moment in the sun” as it were, was eclipsed by darkness. All of her work, her insights, her personal growth…it was all for not.
As she looked at herself in the mirror, into her own eyes…that is all that she could remember. Since that day last December, she had been on the roll of a lifetime. Winning the first Hell in a Cell ever on Clash. Nearly winning Havoc, finishing second. Winning the Glory tournament and with it, the United States Championship. Most recently, becoming a double Champion after winning the first ever Title for Title match in Action Wrestling history.
But yet, that is what she would remember. What she had always referred to as her biggest failure. So, when she asked herself what she had done? The answer wasn’t so clear. She had pushed a woman down a flight of stairs, and for what?
Evidently, because she was too much like Jill. Jill knew what that meant, what lengths she could go to if she really was just like her. So, Jill acted swiftly, and without remorse. In fact, she hadn’t appeared to even question her actions for a single moment. It had all been excused by the ends she had been working towards. And she hadn’t faced any consequences from those horrible actions. The company had covered it up for her, whether she was aware of it or not. Perhaps she did know. Perhaps that’s what gave her the audacity to do what she had done. Perhaps not. That’s only a question that Jill Park knew the answer to. When it came to why she did it?
When she actually thought about it, the answer was really quite simple.
“I did what I had to.
Just like what I will do at Uprising. At All-In. What I couldn’t get done at Turmoil. What I couldn’t get done at Havoc.
I’ll do whatever I have to.”
“Then there’s Downfall.
The troubled soul who has walked to the edge of the abyss and fought his way back. The man who has looked the devil in his eyes and never backed down. The man who is so tormented that it has enveloped every aspect of his life, and he has no recourse other than to embrace the darkness and be the man he was always destined to be, regardless of who he wants to be.
Or something like that.
Seriously, Downfall.
I don’t know you expect to be taken seriously. I don’t buy into this whole paradigm shift you’re throwing down for us all. Sure, you used to be a lackey for James Nightingale. You’ve had a twisted history, I guess.
But what have you done for me lately? Simply put, Downfall, you’ve been lackluster. You wanted to create a revolution with Dionysus; with the Vanguard. But did you? Sure, you had a long reign as AW Tag Team Champions, but I would hardly quantify that as a revolution. Instead, what I remember is whining from yourself all year long. From how you lost your World Championship, to how the tag team division was so lacking. And now that you’ve lost those Championships, you want to take credit for those that DO hold that gold.
It’s all very weak.
So you go and bash in Johnny Bacchus’ brains for being a troll, is that it? While I will commend the result, I don’t quite buy the motive. I don’t see it as some big change in demeanour or a monster being awakened.
I’ve been doing big time shit all damn year. It’s about time you do something noteworthy. Sure, it’s a start, what you did on Clash, a couple of weeks ago. Just a start. A few baby steps into a new AW. Into a new world.
But that world, Downfall?
It’s MY WORLD.
Two Championships might be enough for most. Hell, it could even be described as once in a lifetime, sort of accomplishment.
But not for me. Not for Jill Park. My eyes are set firmly on what is at stake at Uprising. The World Championship. The be all, end all. I was robbed of my chance last year. I didn’t seize the opportunity. Just like at Turmoil. Like at Havoc. I gave everyone career-defining performances. I gave them my blood, sweat, and tears. But at the end of the day, on those days, that just wasn’t enough.
That’s the difference between then and now.
Last year at Uprising, I was a little too confident; too cocky. I was talked about as the rising star, taking the company by storm. I really thought All-In was in the bag. I failed to realize the level of brutality that would exist within those ropes. I wouldn’t admit to it then, but I wasn’t ready for what I was about to experience.
But now? Now I have slayed legends. Tapped out Hall of Famers. Ended careers. I have won Championshiips. I have BEEN the person I needed last year. It’s a different Jill Park stepping into the Athur Ashe this week. The same one that defied odds over and over. Became US and Women’s Champions by throttling all competition. I’m not scared of anyone.
I’ll promise you the same thing I’ve promised everyone else.
It’s not gonna happen again.”
But that was a delusion. I would not walk out the winner. I would not challenge for the Championship. Instead, I had the extreme displeasure of watching Kyle Kemp beat the shit out of that slimy fuck Dandy DiVito. I saw Kyle Kemp cash in his All-In briefcase. I saw Kyle Kemp become the fucking World Champion.
All I could think of, was it should’ve been me. I could’ve spared us all that despair. I could’ve ended Kyle Kemp’s title run before it even began.
I did still end it, eventually. Didn’t I, Kyle? At Turmoil. You wanted SO BADLY to proof you were the top dog in this company. You’d take on all comers! You talked yourself into a fatal fourway title defence, you dumb son of a bitch. I made you pay. I made you tapout. I ended your reign in disgrace and nobody saw you FOR MONTHS. It was pure bliss.
Now I know you’ve got this silly idea in your head that you’re gonna march ahead and repeat what you did one year ago. I know you’ve got this delusions of grandeur. That you’re gonna wipe the floor with EVERYONE and become a two-time World Champion.
Spoiler Alert: It’s not gonna fuckin’ happen. Not this time, Kyle. I made the mistake a year ago, of not taking you perhaps as seriously as I should have. I didn’t realize the snake you were. I know better, this time around. This time around I’ll cut your fucking head off and throw you in the trash. You’ll be nothing but a bad memory as I march forward into history. As I defy EVERYONE’S expectations ONE. MORE. TIME. As I become All-In.
You know what comes after that,
Jilly 3 belts.”
The rhythmic beep of a heart monitor is the only noise that can be heard in the otherwise silent hospital room. Remington Serroul lays under the thin hospital sheets, barely awake. She groans and shifts in the bed slightly. A knock at the door snatches her attention, and she slowly rises up to a seated position in the bed, and peers towards the doorway. A man in a black three-piece suit stares back with a smile.
“Ugh. What do you vultures want now?” Remington asked hypothetically. Her tone of voice was one of exasperation. She didn’t seem interested in an answer, as she rolled back over in the bed.
“I think you’ll want to hear me out.” He claims, nonchalantly as he takes a few steps forward, into the room and towards the bed Remington occupies.
“Fuck off.” Came her reply, without even so much as facing him.
“I know you’re a little displeased with how things turned out, but you were warned it could get dicey.”
This time, Remington did face him, lifting herself up into a sitting position again.
“She pushed me down the fucking stairs.”
“Like I said, you knew the risks.”
“That’s fucking bullshit, and you know it.”
The man nodded at Remington, saying nothing further. He then reached into his inside pocket, pulling out an envelope.
“Regardless, this is your payment.”
Remington stared blankly at him for a moment.[/color]
“So that’s it, then? You hire me to get under Jill Park’s skin, and she pushes me down a flight of stairs. She gives me a concussion, a couple of broken ribs, and a fractured ankle. So you pay me off, and pretend none of it fucking happened?”
“Well, I know that may seem harsh and unethical.” Remington still hasn’t accepted the envelope, so he drops it on the bed by her feet. “But, it’s precisely what was agreed to in your contract. Cause drama, don’t allow Miss Park to know the status of said contract, and rile her up enough. Unfortunately, you did so in a manner that has given us no choice to pull the episode to spare Miss Park the anguish of an investigation into her actions. You have been supplied an advance on your agreed upon salary, with the agreement that you sit out the remainder of said contract.”
“Figures. This is to protect her. Nothing more.”
“I suggest you take the payment, Miss Serroul. I do seem to recall your financial issues prior to License to Jill appearances. You want to keep your home, don’t you?”
Remington looked conflicted, as he walked out of the room confidently. Remington sighed and reached down for the envelope.
“CJ Phoenix is so far out of his depth, and he doesn’t even realize it. I am so fucking sick and tired of hearing about how much potential CJ has. That, given the opportunity, he has the potential to bring himself to new heights. To innovate. To astound. To rise to a whole new level.
Blah, blah, blah.
I’ve heard it the entire time I’ve been in Action Wrestling. I’ve seen it play out more times than Lissie Hope changes lovers. CJ wins a title, and you think, ‘My god, he’s done it! CJ Phoenix has realized his potential! He’s grabbed the brass ring!’ Only for him to inevitably fall flat on his face. He did it as Hardcore Champion. He did it as United States Champion. He will, without a doubt, do it as Tag Team Champion.
Congratulations, CJ. Truly.
But, come time for Uprising and the All-In Ladder match, the honeymoon phase from your title win will be long gone. You’ll be one step away from a shot at the biggest prize in this company; in this industry. You’ll stand in MY way. That, more than anything else, is what will be your downfall. As I stated just a couple of weeks ago, I do not forget what you cost me last year, and I definitely do not forgive. You COWARDLY smashed the All-In briefcase into my face. You SCREWED me out of MY SHOT. Kyle Kemp wept the rewards of your hard work, as he always does. However it’s not going to happen this year, CJ. You have a receipt coming your way, and it isn’t going to be good for you. Over the course of the last few months, I’ve shown everyone just how dangerous I can be.
But you, CJ, you’ve shown how out of the loop that you are. Nothing more blatant than your remarks a few weeks ago about Affluenza. That we are teetering on the edge. That it’s been a “will they/won’t they” situation in regards to our allegiance to one another.
Someone’s not paying attention. Which is just so like you, isn’t it, CJ? Or perhaps Spencer is rubbing off on you just a little too much. Making you just a little too selfish. Affluenza has never been stronger. We hold two Championships now, and after Uprising, we will also have possession of the All-In briefcase.
I’m much more than a ‘toddler with a handgun’ as the commie fuck put it oh so eloquently, so many times. I’m the single most destructive force in this company. I’ve proven that week in, and week out. I snuffed out Alice Gemini’s title run just last week. I am a DOUBLE CHAMPION, and I am not anywhere close to be finished yet. There’s still one more title that I have my eye on.
You know the one.
Speaking of Championships.
I would hate to say ‘I told you so’, but, well…you know.
You can beat your chest, and you could say you could manipulate me, manipulate Regan, do whatever you please to rip through our souls and destroy us all from the inside…but it’s all just posturing, isn’t it?
I took your best last week, Alice. We waged war. We beat the hell out of one another, but, as usual…I was the one who left with my arm raised. I am the one with one more title in my possession. Don’t fret, Alice, you will be a remarkable footnote in my Hall of Fame career. You will be the answer to a trivia question for ions. You can even tell your children you battled the great Jill Park, BEFORE she inevitably became World Champion and ruled Action Wrestling as a TRIPLE CHAMPION.
I showed you the lengths I’ll go to, Alice. I showed you the fortitude and determination that I have. Everybody likes to point fingers. They like to downplay everything I’ve done and will do. It’s tiring, quite frankly. However, last Monday on Clash I once again made history. It’s like I told you heading into our match: It’s what I do. I make history.
And just like I told you a week ago, I’m gonna do it again.”
“It’s nice to throw CruiserClash a bone, I guess. Making sure there is representation from the bonafide ‘B brand’. Representation matters.
Except, when it comes to giving a shot to CruiserClash, it’s always the same story. It’s always the same person.
Teo Blaze.
The Cruiserweight Champion! The man who wants to put the brand on his back and deliver the performance of a lifetime, yet again!
Spare me this delusional, self-absorbed tale this time around, will you Teo?
If you wanted to champion the brand, if you truly wanted it to grow, perhaps you’d allow any of your counterparts that spotlight, as it clearly has never done you any good. Always the representative, but you never quite nail it, do you? No, you fall flat on your face every single time, and go back to that dreadful show, and continue as normal. Perhaps what you really want to do is keep everyone else in line, and make sure they don’t eclipse you. How sad.
Just do me a favour, and stay out of my way. Or I’ll do what a lackluster gang of Canadian wrestlers couldn’t.”
But, of course, Teo sadly isn’t the only CruiserClash hack in this match.
Serenity Holmes was supposed to be a generational talent.
She came in with much fanfare, due largely to the man that happened to bang her mom. Congratulations on being born, Serenity.
I just don’t see it. You’re Andre Holmes’ daughter, fabulous. I wish I could even pretend to care, but sadly I don’t. You came in and shockingly won your first title…on CruiserClash. Again, I really wish that sounded more impressive that it is.
Despite that, you continued to try and Champion yourself as a beacon of hope. As some icon of female empowerment. Gee, why does this sound so familiar? I’m sure I’ve heard it somewhere before…
Anyways. You then allowed yourself to be duped by Alice fucking Gemini. She fucked with your head, and she took your title. You haven’t really been the same since, have you? Even having a destructive-but-no, really he’s a nice guy-simp of a boyfriend hasn’t done you any favours. While Holden is out spilling his blood seemingly every week, you’re here hoping someone, anyone will take you seriously on account of your name, and little else.
At Uprising, you’ll learn yet another important life lesson that daddy-dearest likely didn’t have the heart to teach you. You don’t always get what you want. You aren’t entitled to it, Serenity. This All-In match, hell this entire SUMMER has been about ME. Nobody else has come close. I am selling out these arenas. I am giving ONCE IN A LIFETIME performances on the regular.
I am fucking transcendent, and I’m not fucking done. No way in hell are you going to stop me from ascending to my rightful throne.
It’s not going to happen.”
Sitting in a boardroom, flanked by producers and other executives had become a usual thing for Jill Park. Yet, that did not ease any of the tension that existed in the room. The disconnect could be seen without any speaking a word. The three-piece suits of the executives to the lowcut dress and heels that Jill Park wore. No amount of memos could get her to abide by a dresscode.
“I guess this is about Remington’s unfortunate incident.”
Jill’s blunt assertion broke the silence in the room like throwing a brick through a window. The expressions of everyone else at the table varied. Some seemed disgusted, while others showed no emotion whatsoever. Jill shrugged at the reception to her comment and lifted her feet onto the glass table, crossing them casually.
“Well in a way, yes.” An older, balding man across the table spoke up. “Miss Park, due to your actions last week, we had to pull an entire episode of License to Jill. We had to black out 24/7 camera feeds. We had to do so many things because of your negligence; because of your short-sightedness.”
“Short sightedness, is that what you call it?” Jill replied, a tinge of anger evident in her tone. She raised a pair of aviator sunglasses up off of her face, tossing them across the table. She also removed her feet from the table, now opting to lean over it toward the man.
“Is that what you call it when you bring these nobodies in here? When you bring them on my show with the expressed purpose of humiliating me? With taunting me? With causing this sort of bullshit drama you can find in any other fucking reality show out there?”
He seemed flustered now, but had to save face. If he faltered here, he may be gone by this time next week. “Well, this is a reality show?”
Jill’s face told the story. Wrong answer.
“I don’t give a fuck.
This isn’t like any number of the cookie cutter shows out there. I’ll remind you, that this company sought me out. That they wanted my story, my personality, and my fame. This show is about my life, my career, my fucking STORY. It is a living, breathing documentary unlike anything produced in this industry, ever.
But you want to bring in these low level actors to create drama? Are you fucking kidding me? Give me any fucking amount of resources, and I’ll create more entertaining content in my fucking sleep.”
It was at this time, that another man spoke up, closer to the end of the table, as he saw his colleague about to crumble. “With all due respect, Miss Park.
You pushed Remington down a flight of stairs.”
Jill’s facial expressions changed completely. But not like you may have expected. There was no surprise or fear. There was no trepidation. Her expression, for lack of a better word, was blank.
“Did I?” She asked, seemingly genuinely. She sounded confused.
He shifted in his seat, unsure of what she meant.
“Well yes, you did.”
“Do you have the footage?”
“As stated, we pulled all the footage. It’s been deleted as a cautionary measure.”
“So…you just think I did that. I never said I did that. You have no proof I did that.”
He could only muster an incredulous look. Silence quickly filled the room. Jill stood from her seat, and grabbed her glasses off of the table, sliding them back onto her face.
“Glad we settled that.
I think we’re done here.”
“Regan.
Oh, Regan. We always knew it would come down to this eventually. We both have stated from the very beginning that we both want the same thing. Our desires are the same. The World Championship was always our end goal. And here we are, both one step away from claiming a shot at that very Championship.
We both know what’s happening around us. We are both aware of the hopefulness that floods our colleagues minds. They hope this is it. This is the stage where Jill Park turns on Regan Voorhees, or Regan Voorhees turns on Jill Park.
As usual, we will leave them disappointed, angry, and upset. We know what’s at stake, and we know that once we step through the ropes at Uprising. We are no longer affiliated.
If you’re given the opportunity, Regan…rip my goddamn head off.
Because I can assure you, I can promise you, if given the chance, I will do the same thing to you.
“It is surprising to see Sam Kidsgrove here, again, so soon. I wil admit, I’m surprised he can even show his face at all. At Glory, Sam, you made history. When you beat Cassidy Adler, you became the first person to win the United States Championship 4 times. Hell of a feat.
Of course, that night ended with you losing the title in grand fashion, and being a Champion for a miniscule 48 minutes, and as such, giving you the distinction as having the shortest United States Championship reign in Action Wrestling history. Again, bravo.
That must have hurt, Sam. That must have really stung. Heartbreaking, I’m sure. THEN, at Meltdown, I graciously allowed you to have your rematch. And again, you couldn’t get the job done. Again, like it’s been all year, it was my time. It was my spotlight, and it was my moment. You were just a bystander. A footnote in the greatest year in Action Wrestling history.
You couldn’t beat my at Glory. You couldn’t beat me at Meltdown. And you will not stand in my way at Uprising.
Not a chance.”
“What did you do?”
Jill Park stands in front of the one person she wouldn’t lie to. The one place where she could be real. Where she could spout off on nonsensical rants or share he deepest concerns or fears. Where she could profess her biggest regrets with no hesitation. Where she wouldn’t be judged.
She was staring herself in the mirror.
Memories of Turmoil came flooding back. She had done the very same thing. She had gone to a new gym. She’d met with a new trainer and learned new insights on why she acted and reacted in the manner in which she had. After sessions with a therapist, she looked deep into her soul and answered hard-hitting questions about herself. She faced difficult truths and even more difficult feelings.
She learned new techniques. She thought she was doing all this to better herself. So that, when the Turmoil Pay-Per-View came around, she would rip through the competition. So that she would ascend the ladder, all in one night. So that she would become the Action Wrestling World Champion.
But that isn’t what happened. She was foiled by Richard DiVito and Dandy DiVito. Her “moment in the sun” as it were, was eclipsed by darkness. All of her work, her insights, her personal growth…it was all for not.
As she looked at herself in the mirror, into her own eyes…that is all that she could remember. Since that day last December, she had been on the roll of a lifetime. Winning the first Hell in a Cell ever on Clash. Nearly winning Havoc, finishing second. Winning the Glory tournament and with it, the United States Championship. Most recently, becoming a double Champion after winning the first ever Title for Title match in Action Wrestling history.
But yet, that is what she would remember. What she had always referred to as her biggest failure. So, when she asked herself what she had done? The answer wasn’t so clear. She had pushed a woman down a flight of stairs, and for what?
Evidently, because she was too much like Jill. Jill knew what that meant, what lengths she could go to if she really was just like her. So, Jill acted swiftly, and without remorse. In fact, she hadn’t appeared to even question her actions for a single moment. It had all been excused by the ends she had been working towards. And she hadn’t faced any consequences from those horrible actions. The company had covered it up for her, whether she was aware of it or not. Perhaps she did know. Perhaps that’s what gave her the audacity to do what she had done. Perhaps not. That’s only a question that Jill Park knew the answer to. When it came to why she did it?
When she actually thought about it, the answer was really quite simple.
“I did what I had to.
Just like what I will do at Uprising. At All-In. What I couldn’t get done at Turmoil. What I couldn’t get done at Havoc.
I’ll do whatever I have to.”
“Then there’s Downfall.
The troubled soul who has walked to the edge of the abyss and fought his way back. The man who has looked the devil in his eyes and never backed down. The man who is so tormented that it has enveloped every aspect of his life, and he has no recourse other than to embrace the darkness and be the man he was always destined to be, regardless of who he wants to be.
Or something like that.
Seriously, Downfall.
I don’t know you expect to be taken seriously. I don’t buy into this whole paradigm shift you’re throwing down for us all. Sure, you used to be a lackey for James Nightingale. You’ve had a twisted history, I guess.
But what have you done for me lately? Simply put, Downfall, you’ve been lackluster. You wanted to create a revolution with Dionysus; with the Vanguard. But did you? Sure, you had a long reign as AW Tag Team Champions, but I would hardly quantify that as a revolution. Instead, what I remember is whining from yourself all year long. From how you lost your World Championship, to how the tag team division was so lacking. And now that you’ve lost those Championships, you want to take credit for those that DO hold that gold.
It’s all very weak.
So you go and bash in Johnny Bacchus’ brains for being a troll, is that it? While I will commend the result, I don’t quite buy the motive. I don’t see it as some big change in demeanour or a monster being awakened.
I’ve been doing big time shit all damn year. It’s about time you do something noteworthy. Sure, it’s a start, what you did on Clash, a couple of weeks ago. Just a start. A few baby steps into a new AW. Into a new world.
But that world, Downfall?
It’s MY WORLD.
Two Championships might be enough for most. Hell, it could even be described as once in a lifetime, sort of accomplishment.
But not for me. Not for Jill Park. My eyes are set firmly on what is at stake at Uprising. The World Championship. The be all, end all. I was robbed of my chance last year. I didn’t seize the opportunity. Just like at Turmoil. Like at Havoc. I gave everyone career-defining performances. I gave them my blood, sweat, and tears. But at the end of the day, on those days, that just wasn’t enough.
That’s the difference between then and now.
Last year at Uprising, I was a little too confident; too cocky. I was talked about as the rising star, taking the company by storm. I really thought All-In was in the bag. I failed to realize the level of brutality that would exist within those ropes. I wouldn’t admit to it then, but I wasn’t ready for what I was about to experience.
But now? Now I have slayed legends. Tapped out Hall of Famers. Ended careers. I have won Championshiips. I have BEEN the person I needed last year. It’s a different Jill Park stepping into the Athur Ashe this week. The same one that defied odds over and over. Became US and Women’s Champions by throttling all competition. I’m not scared of anyone.
I’ll promise you the same thing I’ve promised everyone else.
It’s not gonna happen again.”
