Post by Jill Park on Oct 7, 2022 10:23:10 GMT -5
As she saw the runway of Birmingham-Shuttlesworth Internation Airport near closer, Jill Park began to feel butterflies in her stomach. She knew that once she stepped foot on the tarmac, there was no turning back. Dressed in a grey hoodie reading “Friend of Atticus” which she had pulled up to help conceal her identity, she knew she had likely given in to paranoia. She had given into Dandy DiVito’s ruthless set of mind games. What she was about to do could effectively end her partnership with Regan Voorhees, but she knew she’d never let it go otherwise.
As she gathered her luggage, she was almost constantly looking over her shoulder. Despite her casual dress and sunglasses, she was fully expectant to be recognized by someone. Somehow, she was able to gather her single piece of luggage and head to a rental car she had purchased under an alias.
As Jill stepped inside the black Chrysler 300, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Once behind the seat, she pulled the phone out to see a producer calling. She ignored the call. Nobody knew where she was, and she hoped to keep it that way.
The producer called right back. Jill turned her phone off, before sticking the key in the ignition, buckling her seat belt, and driving off toward her destination.
“I’m sure I’ve said this before but…
It just had to be Kyle fuckin’ Kemp, didn’t it?
I’ve had the best year of my career…of my LIFE. Affluenza was formed in January, and the entire roster was put on notice. I nearly won Havoc. I won Glory. I won the biggest Clash Main Event EVER. I won All-In just a week after that. I have ALREADY been pegged as a favorite for the wrestler of the year, one year after barely being an afterthought.
But yet, as fortune would have it, I’m arguably the underdog heading into this week. If there was ever one man in Action Wrestling that’s had my number, it’s Kyle Kemp. At least, that’s the preferred narrative, isn’t it?
I’m sure it's the one most suited to the mind of Kyle Kemp.
Here’s the thing though. I’m not the same Jill Park that lost to Kyle Kemp at Execution 2021, and Kyle Kemp isn’t the same man from that night, either.
A few weeks ago, I had the displeasure of hearing some of the things Kemp said heading into the number one contender’s match. One thing, in particular, caught my attention. This isn’t coming from just Kemp’s mouth, either. This is something I’ve seen repeated ad nauseam, ever since Kemp made his return to the company I BANISHED HIM FROM.
This fucking idea that we have some sort of unfinished business. That there’s anything fucking left, and it’s ridiculous. It’s insulting. It’s a fucking delusion.
Last year, Kyle Kemp won All-In. He beat me, and he went on to cash in on Dandy DiVito to win the World Heavyweight Championship. THEN he went on to put his entire foot in his mouth just a couple of months later, and accept a fourway title match at Turmoil. I’m sure everyone remembers what happened next.
I made Kyle Kemp tap out. I solved the riddle that was Kyle Kemp. I killed the mystique. I ended his title reign before it could even get started. Then, we didn’t see Kyle Kemp for MONTHS. He wants to give you some made up reason why, but it doesn’t matter because I know the truth. After months of “I’m better than you”, he was embarrassed. After weeks of telling everyone that I was worthless, that I wouldn’t last in this business, I beat him. I humiliated Kyle Kemp on one of the biggest stages there is in this industry, and he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t stand it.
Well, Kyle, I’ve grown leaps and bounds since that night, while you’ve regressed. You are not the man who beat me at Execution. You are not the man who won All-In, and you sure as hell aren’t the same man that cashed in and WON the World Heavyweight Championship, nearly a year ago.
Meanwhile, I’ve been on a hotter run than ANYONE in this company. I am closing in on 100 days as United States Champion, and I REFUSE to allow you to be the end of that. While you’ve regressed, I have evolved. I have become the maker of moments. Everything I touch turns to gold. Anyone that steps across the ring from me is elevated, due to my presence alone. So like Alice Gemini, and like Karlie Nash, I’ll give you the spotlight for one more night. I’ll allow YOU to enter my WORLD, enter my RING for an additional fifteen minutes of fame. But don’t get it twisted, it is MY WORLD.
You better forget everything you thought you knew about Jill Park. You better go back and watch all the tape, Kemp. See what I’ve evolved into, and then, maybe, you’ll realize you are in for the fight of your life. Maybe then you’ll realize winning this match is futile, you’ll just want to survive your next encounter with me.
The woman you said would eventually spit out the bottom of the porn industry, broken. I’ve remembered that line for a long time, Kemp. You were the poster child for my haters and my critics. Those that wanted to see my fail; that wished for it. So remember, when you’re waiting in the ring. When my music hits and that crowd comes alive. It may be pure hatred, but it’s emotion nonetheless. Remember when I’m standing across the ring from you, All-In briefcase by my side, and TWO Championships in hand.
Remember, Kemp.
That you brought this on yourself. But also remember.
I never forget. And I never forgive.”
Pulling up the long white gravel driveway, Jill was greeted with a picturesque view of Voorhees Farms. Unlike the owner’s namesake, the farm was inviting. The front-facing farm which appeared to be mostly for visitors had a large and meticulously cultivated field where a myriad of farm animals seemed to live in harmony. A fancy and expensive-looking farmhouse was off in the distance, behind the visitor center, but it appeared to be off-limits, with a locked white fence extending all the way around.
Jill pulled over to the side, to the designated parking area, which had only a few other vehicles. This wasn’t surprising, as it was getting closer to dusk. Jill found it odd that she was able to secure a spot in a Voorhees Farms tour so late in the day, but figured it was the best shot at finding out if Regan truly did have dealings with Dandy DiVito. She also assumed it was her best shot at ensuring Regan would not be on the premises.
Jill grabbed her purse and exited the vehicle, pulling her hood back up and her sunglasses back on. As with the airport, it was of the utmost necessity that she kept a low profile. It was probably even more important, now.
After taking a moment to collect her thoughts and her composure, she began her walk towards the front-facing barn. Staring down at her feet the entire way, she almost bumped into an employee near the entrance. She quietly mumbled a ‘sorry’, but the bubbly attendant waved her through. Jill quickly saw the line up for the tour on the right. To her surprise, there was perhaps a dozen people already in line. This could make her job easier than anticipated.
A tour guide quickly came before the line. A middle-aged blonde woman who’s smile was so wide it most assuredly had to be fake. She introduced herself as “Michelle” and welcomed the group to Voorhees Farms. Jill made her best attempt to not make eye contact, again electing to stare at the floor. This made drowning out where the tour was going, and what it was about, rather easy. Before she knew it, the line was moving. She was the last one in line, thankfully. The tour passed by a gift shop and a pair of restrooms before they’d reach anything else, and Jill was able to subtly slip into the ladies restroom. After realizing that she was alone in there, she let out a sigh of relief. She also knew that was likely the easiest part of her night.
She hunched over the countertop that housed three sinks, staring at herself in the reflection of a pristine mirror. “What am I doing here?” She mumbled to herself. Perhaps she did realize how ridiculous she was being, this whole time, thanks to the mindgames of DiVito. This thought didn’t seem to linger long, unfortunately. Jill shook it off before once again pulling her hood back up. She waited a few more minutes as a precaution, before exiting the restroom.
As she had expected, the tour was long gone, and her absence had not been noted. As it was later in the day, there was also a lack of employees present, and she was able to slip back out of the visitors building. She was certain there would be nothing to find there. She needed to go to the more private farmhouse.
Cautiously making her way there, she was careful to stick to the shadows and to move slowly. From what she could tell, most of the lights were already out. Most of the light present on the premises came from the more public building. As she approached the building, she could hear what could only be described as a chant, but she could not quite figure out the source, or what was being chanted. An eerie feeling crept over her as she reached the front doors. She was careful not to open them, unsure of what she may find on the other side. Peering through, what she saw certainly wasn’t anything she would expect.
It was now clear why there weren’t many Voorhees Farms employees in the visitor's building. As Jill peered into the farmhouse, what she saw were at least forty men and women of varying sizes, all with demented Pig masks, chanting “ATTI-CUS” over and over, as they repeatedly bowed to a statue of the famous pig. Strewn across the walls were several propaganda-style posters that read things like “ATTICUS WANTS YOU…TO STOP EATING PORK” and “P0RK IS THE WAY” alluding to Voorhees Farms’ supposed pork substitute.
As Jill recoiled in horror of what she was seeing, or perhaps what she thought she was seeing, she heard footsteps nearby. She quickly escaped to the side of the farmhouse when she noticed one more young man fumbling with a pig mask and heading toward the doors.
“Ugh, fuck.” He mumbled to himself as he dropped the pig mask. He stood there for a second in frustration, peering down at the mask as if it were mocking him. He slowly crouched down to get the mask, and as he looked back up after retrieving it, all he saw was the right fist of Jill Park coming for his face.
Then everything went dark.
A single dimly lit bulb illuminated very little of the utility shed, but it was enough to make the young man uneasy. Despite doing practically no recon on her mission, Jill Park may have caught a break when she ambushed the Voorhees Farm employee. He sat directly under the bulb, duct-taped to a rickety old wooden chair, that seemed like it barely withstood his weight. In front of him was Jill Park. She seemed much less concerned and nervous than she had all night. For the first time in her little adventure, she finally felt like she was in control.
“So, Leon…nice of you to keep your ID handy.” Jill remarked casually, letting him know she at least knew that much about him. He of course didn’t reply, given that there also happened to be a strip of duct tape over his mouth.
“I don’t really have a lot of time here, Leon. I need your help.” Again, she was met with no reply, not that she had been expecting any.
“I need to know where I can find invoices. Purchase orders. Anything. I need access to records.”
Despite a lack of verbalization, Jill could tell Leon was confused. She took a deep breath, and continued. “I need to know if Regan is working with Dandy DiVito. It’s all too…fishy. I obviously can’t ask her again, she’ll think I can’t trust her. But can I? I don’t even…”
Noticing she was spiraling, shook her head. She took a step closer to Leon, quickly ripping the duct tape from his mouth in one fluid but painful motion. He yelled out, which forced her to cover his mouth. She leaned her face up to his right ear and whispered “Be. Fucking. Quiet.” . There was a level of evil in her voice that was not present before. Leon was visibly shaken.
After a long, stressful and tense pause, Leon said “Who the fuck is Dandy DiVito?”.
Jill backed up a step, running a hand through her hair, frustrated. “Don’t fucking play with me.” Another long pause followed, before Leon said “I’ve never heard that name before.”
Jill turned away from him, walking to the door and back, in a silent rage. She then produced a small knife from her boot, unsheathing it. Leon’s eye grew wide.
“I said, don’t fucking play with me. I don’t know what kind of fucked up shit is happening at this Farm with the fucking masks and the chanting and all the other bullshit. Honestly, I don’t even care what it’s all about. But do not, I repeat, do not play these fucking mind games with me.”
Jill got right into Leon’s face, the knife held only mere inches from his throat.
“I’ll ask you again. Where, the fuck, is Regan Voorhees’ office? Where can I see the PROOF I need?”
An audible gulp could be heard, emanating from Leon. He broke almost immediately.
“Don’t hurt me, okay. Okay. I know where her office is. I can take you there.”
Jill quickly put the knife away.
“Tell me.”
“I’ve had alot of success this year. Some say it’s me finally realizing my potential. Others try to downplay what I’ve done, but that’s something they’ve always done. I could win the World Heavyweight Championship on the next show, and they would still find a way to downplay it. The fact remains, I’ve had one of the best years of anyone in Action Wrestling HISTORY.
But it doesn’t mean a god damn fucking thing if I can’t beat Kyle Kemp on Monday night. If I can’t beat Kemp, it shows one thing. It shows that I really haven’t come all that far, after all. As much as my run in the last few months have been a step forward, a loss to Kyle Kemp would be two giant steps backward.
And that, more than anything else, is why I can not lose to Kyle Kemp on Monday night. Many in my position would likely talk about the United States Championship. My first title reign. Of course, that is important. I will always remember that night at Glory, when the United States Championship was handed to me. When I sat on my knees in the ring, and leaned back in exhaustion. Sweat dripping down my body. Aches shooting in all directions. Fans yelling insults and booing me as loudly as ever. Yet, when I peered down at the United States Championship, that all faded away. I was in my own world as I held that title for the first time. People can talk about whether or not I’ve ‘made it’ or perhaps even when I did. I know one thing for certain. In that moment, as I stood tall, and slung that title over my shoulder. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. That was the moment in which I ‘made it’.
It’s a similar feeling I thought I had last year. I thought I captured lightning in a bottle. I was wrong, and it was Kyle Kemp who proved that to me. He handed me not one but two crushing defeats. I may have returned that favor to him at Turmoil, but those moments from Uprising and Execution still live in my mind. I will never forget those matches, those moments. They paved the way for what I’ve accomplished this year.
That is why losing to Kyle Kemp again, just isn’t an option.
Kyle Kemp brought me back into reality last year. Brought me back down to earth. Now, he will no doubt intend on doing that very same thing all over again.
This time is different. Just like at Uprising, it was different. I’m not living in a fantasy world this time around. I know exactly how good I am, but I also know how good Kyle Kemp is. Something I failed to see this time last year.
This time, I am not living in Kyle Kemp’s world. This time HE is stepping into MY ring. He is coming face to face with the strongest FORCE this company has seen all year long. Despite everything, I’ve continually come out on top to forge my own destiny. I’ve told my story how I wanted it to be told.
Kyle Kemp isn’t going to take that away from me, and if thinks he is?
He’s the one living in a fantasy world.”
Jill Park rooted around in a small office, mostly in the dark. The only source of light coming from a small lamp. There were papers strewn about all over a small desk, as well as all over the floor. She frantically opened and closed drawers. She stopped after seemingly searching ever inch of the only desk.
“Fuck.” She sighed, dejected.
“Nothing.”
“Jill?” Came a voice from the doorway. A chill ran up Jill’s spine. Regan Voorhees stood in the doorway.
“What are you doing?”
As she gathered her luggage, she was almost constantly looking over her shoulder. Despite her casual dress and sunglasses, she was fully expectant to be recognized by someone. Somehow, she was able to gather her single piece of luggage and head to a rental car she had purchased under an alias.
As Jill stepped inside the black Chrysler 300, she felt her phone buzz in her pocket. Once behind the seat, she pulled the phone out to see a producer calling. She ignored the call. Nobody knew where she was, and she hoped to keep it that way.
The producer called right back. Jill turned her phone off, before sticking the key in the ignition, buckling her seat belt, and driving off toward her destination.
“I’m sure I’ve said this before but…
It just had to be Kyle fuckin’ Kemp, didn’t it?
I’ve had the best year of my career…of my LIFE. Affluenza was formed in January, and the entire roster was put on notice. I nearly won Havoc. I won Glory. I won the biggest Clash Main Event EVER. I won All-In just a week after that. I have ALREADY been pegged as a favorite for the wrestler of the year, one year after barely being an afterthought.
But yet, as fortune would have it, I’m arguably the underdog heading into this week. If there was ever one man in Action Wrestling that’s had my number, it’s Kyle Kemp. At least, that’s the preferred narrative, isn’t it?
I’m sure it's the one most suited to the mind of Kyle Kemp.
Here’s the thing though. I’m not the same Jill Park that lost to Kyle Kemp at Execution 2021, and Kyle Kemp isn’t the same man from that night, either.
A few weeks ago, I had the displeasure of hearing some of the things Kemp said heading into the number one contender’s match. One thing, in particular, caught my attention. This isn’t coming from just Kemp’s mouth, either. This is something I’ve seen repeated ad nauseam, ever since Kemp made his return to the company I BANISHED HIM FROM.
This fucking idea that we have some sort of unfinished business. That there’s anything fucking left, and it’s ridiculous. It’s insulting. It’s a fucking delusion.
Last year, Kyle Kemp won All-In. He beat me, and he went on to cash in on Dandy DiVito to win the World Heavyweight Championship. THEN he went on to put his entire foot in his mouth just a couple of months later, and accept a fourway title match at Turmoil. I’m sure everyone remembers what happened next.
I made Kyle Kemp tap out. I solved the riddle that was Kyle Kemp. I killed the mystique. I ended his title reign before it could even get started. Then, we didn’t see Kyle Kemp for MONTHS. He wants to give you some made up reason why, but it doesn’t matter because I know the truth. After months of “I’m better than you”, he was embarrassed. After weeks of telling everyone that I was worthless, that I wouldn’t last in this business, I beat him. I humiliated Kyle Kemp on one of the biggest stages there is in this industry, and he couldn’t take it. He couldn’t stand it.
Well, Kyle, I’ve grown leaps and bounds since that night, while you’ve regressed. You are not the man who beat me at Execution. You are not the man who won All-In, and you sure as hell aren’t the same man that cashed in and WON the World Heavyweight Championship, nearly a year ago.
Meanwhile, I’ve been on a hotter run than ANYONE in this company. I am closing in on 100 days as United States Champion, and I REFUSE to allow you to be the end of that. While you’ve regressed, I have evolved. I have become the maker of moments. Everything I touch turns to gold. Anyone that steps across the ring from me is elevated, due to my presence alone. So like Alice Gemini, and like Karlie Nash, I’ll give you the spotlight for one more night. I’ll allow YOU to enter my WORLD, enter my RING for an additional fifteen minutes of fame. But don’t get it twisted, it is MY WORLD.
You better forget everything you thought you knew about Jill Park. You better go back and watch all the tape, Kemp. See what I’ve evolved into, and then, maybe, you’ll realize you are in for the fight of your life. Maybe then you’ll realize winning this match is futile, you’ll just want to survive your next encounter with me.
The woman you said would eventually spit out the bottom of the porn industry, broken. I’ve remembered that line for a long time, Kemp. You were the poster child for my haters and my critics. Those that wanted to see my fail; that wished for it. So remember, when you’re waiting in the ring. When my music hits and that crowd comes alive. It may be pure hatred, but it’s emotion nonetheless. Remember when I’m standing across the ring from you, All-In briefcase by my side, and TWO Championships in hand.
Remember, Kemp.
That you brought this on yourself. But also remember.
I never forget. And I never forgive.”
Pulling up the long white gravel driveway, Jill was greeted with a picturesque view of Voorhees Farms. Unlike the owner’s namesake, the farm was inviting. The front-facing farm which appeared to be mostly for visitors had a large and meticulously cultivated field where a myriad of farm animals seemed to live in harmony. A fancy and expensive-looking farmhouse was off in the distance, behind the visitor center, but it appeared to be off-limits, with a locked white fence extending all the way around.
Jill pulled over to the side, to the designated parking area, which had only a few other vehicles. This wasn’t surprising, as it was getting closer to dusk. Jill found it odd that she was able to secure a spot in a Voorhees Farms tour so late in the day, but figured it was the best shot at finding out if Regan truly did have dealings with Dandy DiVito. She also assumed it was her best shot at ensuring Regan would not be on the premises.
Jill grabbed her purse and exited the vehicle, pulling her hood back up and her sunglasses back on. As with the airport, it was of the utmost necessity that she kept a low profile. It was probably even more important, now.
After taking a moment to collect her thoughts and her composure, she began her walk towards the front-facing barn. Staring down at her feet the entire way, she almost bumped into an employee near the entrance. She quietly mumbled a ‘sorry’, but the bubbly attendant waved her through. Jill quickly saw the line up for the tour on the right. To her surprise, there was perhaps a dozen people already in line. This could make her job easier than anticipated.
A tour guide quickly came before the line. A middle-aged blonde woman who’s smile was so wide it most assuredly had to be fake. She introduced herself as “Michelle” and welcomed the group to Voorhees Farms. Jill made her best attempt to not make eye contact, again electing to stare at the floor. This made drowning out where the tour was going, and what it was about, rather easy. Before she knew it, the line was moving. She was the last one in line, thankfully. The tour passed by a gift shop and a pair of restrooms before they’d reach anything else, and Jill was able to subtly slip into the ladies restroom. After realizing that she was alone in there, she let out a sigh of relief. She also knew that was likely the easiest part of her night.
She hunched over the countertop that housed three sinks, staring at herself in the reflection of a pristine mirror. “What am I doing here?” She mumbled to herself. Perhaps she did realize how ridiculous she was being, this whole time, thanks to the mindgames of DiVito. This thought didn’t seem to linger long, unfortunately. Jill shook it off before once again pulling her hood back up. She waited a few more minutes as a precaution, before exiting the restroom.
As she had expected, the tour was long gone, and her absence had not been noted. As it was later in the day, there was also a lack of employees present, and she was able to slip back out of the visitors building. She was certain there would be nothing to find there. She needed to go to the more private farmhouse.
Cautiously making her way there, she was careful to stick to the shadows and to move slowly. From what she could tell, most of the lights were already out. Most of the light present on the premises came from the more public building. As she approached the building, she could hear what could only be described as a chant, but she could not quite figure out the source, or what was being chanted. An eerie feeling crept over her as she reached the front doors. She was careful not to open them, unsure of what she may find on the other side. Peering through, what she saw certainly wasn’t anything she would expect.
It was now clear why there weren’t many Voorhees Farms employees in the visitor's building. As Jill peered into the farmhouse, what she saw were at least forty men and women of varying sizes, all with demented Pig masks, chanting “ATTI-CUS” over and over, as they repeatedly bowed to a statue of the famous pig. Strewn across the walls were several propaganda-style posters that read things like “ATTICUS WANTS YOU…TO STOP EATING PORK” and “P0RK IS THE WAY” alluding to Voorhees Farms’ supposed pork substitute.
As Jill recoiled in horror of what she was seeing, or perhaps what she thought she was seeing, she heard footsteps nearby. She quickly escaped to the side of the farmhouse when she noticed one more young man fumbling with a pig mask and heading toward the doors.
“Ugh, fuck.” He mumbled to himself as he dropped the pig mask. He stood there for a second in frustration, peering down at the mask as if it were mocking him. He slowly crouched down to get the mask, and as he looked back up after retrieving it, all he saw was the right fist of Jill Park coming for his face.
Then everything went dark.
A single dimly lit bulb illuminated very little of the utility shed, but it was enough to make the young man uneasy. Despite doing practically no recon on her mission, Jill Park may have caught a break when she ambushed the Voorhees Farm employee. He sat directly under the bulb, duct-taped to a rickety old wooden chair, that seemed like it barely withstood his weight. In front of him was Jill Park. She seemed much less concerned and nervous than she had all night. For the first time in her little adventure, she finally felt like she was in control.
“So, Leon…nice of you to keep your ID handy.” Jill remarked casually, letting him know she at least knew that much about him. He of course didn’t reply, given that there also happened to be a strip of duct tape over his mouth.
“I don’t really have a lot of time here, Leon. I need your help.” Again, she was met with no reply, not that she had been expecting any.
“I need to know where I can find invoices. Purchase orders. Anything. I need access to records.”
Despite a lack of verbalization, Jill could tell Leon was confused. She took a deep breath, and continued. “I need to know if Regan is working with Dandy DiVito. It’s all too…fishy. I obviously can’t ask her again, she’ll think I can’t trust her. But can I? I don’t even…”
Noticing she was spiraling, shook her head. She took a step closer to Leon, quickly ripping the duct tape from his mouth in one fluid but painful motion. He yelled out, which forced her to cover his mouth. She leaned her face up to his right ear and whispered “Be. Fucking. Quiet.” . There was a level of evil in her voice that was not present before. Leon was visibly shaken.
After a long, stressful and tense pause, Leon said “Who the fuck is Dandy DiVito?”.
Jill backed up a step, running a hand through her hair, frustrated. “Don’t fucking play with me.” Another long pause followed, before Leon said “I’ve never heard that name before.”
Jill turned away from him, walking to the door and back, in a silent rage. She then produced a small knife from her boot, unsheathing it. Leon’s eye grew wide.
“I said, don’t fucking play with me. I don’t know what kind of fucked up shit is happening at this Farm with the fucking masks and the chanting and all the other bullshit. Honestly, I don’t even care what it’s all about. But do not, I repeat, do not play these fucking mind games with me.”
Jill got right into Leon’s face, the knife held only mere inches from his throat.
“I’ll ask you again. Where, the fuck, is Regan Voorhees’ office? Where can I see the PROOF I need?”
An audible gulp could be heard, emanating from Leon. He broke almost immediately.
“Don’t hurt me, okay. Okay. I know where her office is. I can take you there.”
Jill quickly put the knife away.
“Tell me.”
“I’ve had alot of success this year. Some say it’s me finally realizing my potential. Others try to downplay what I’ve done, but that’s something they’ve always done. I could win the World Heavyweight Championship on the next show, and they would still find a way to downplay it. The fact remains, I’ve had one of the best years of anyone in Action Wrestling HISTORY.
But it doesn’t mean a god damn fucking thing if I can’t beat Kyle Kemp on Monday night. If I can’t beat Kemp, it shows one thing. It shows that I really haven’t come all that far, after all. As much as my run in the last few months have been a step forward, a loss to Kyle Kemp would be two giant steps backward.
And that, more than anything else, is why I can not lose to Kyle Kemp on Monday night. Many in my position would likely talk about the United States Championship. My first title reign. Of course, that is important. I will always remember that night at Glory, when the United States Championship was handed to me. When I sat on my knees in the ring, and leaned back in exhaustion. Sweat dripping down my body. Aches shooting in all directions. Fans yelling insults and booing me as loudly as ever. Yet, when I peered down at the United States Championship, that all faded away. I was in my own world as I held that title for the first time. People can talk about whether or not I’ve ‘made it’ or perhaps even when I did. I know one thing for certain. In that moment, as I stood tall, and slung that title over my shoulder. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind. That was the moment in which I ‘made it’.
It’s a similar feeling I thought I had last year. I thought I captured lightning in a bottle. I was wrong, and it was Kyle Kemp who proved that to me. He handed me not one but two crushing defeats. I may have returned that favor to him at Turmoil, but those moments from Uprising and Execution still live in my mind. I will never forget those matches, those moments. They paved the way for what I’ve accomplished this year.
That is why losing to Kyle Kemp again, just isn’t an option.
Kyle Kemp brought me back into reality last year. Brought me back down to earth. Now, he will no doubt intend on doing that very same thing all over again.
This time is different. Just like at Uprising, it was different. I’m not living in a fantasy world this time around. I know exactly how good I am, but I also know how good Kyle Kemp is. Something I failed to see this time last year.
This time, I am not living in Kyle Kemp’s world. This time HE is stepping into MY ring. He is coming face to face with the strongest FORCE this company has seen all year long. Despite everything, I’ve continually come out on top to forge my own destiny. I’ve told my story how I wanted it to be told.
Kyle Kemp isn’t going to take that away from me, and if thinks he is?
He’s the one living in a fantasy world.”
Jill Park rooted around in a small office, mostly in the dark. The only source of light coming from a small lamp. There were papers strewn about all over a small desk, as well as all over the floor. She frantically opened and closed drawers. She stopped after seemingly searching ever inch of the only desk.
“Fuck.” She sighed, dejected.
“Nothing.”
“Jill?” Came a voice from the doorway. A chill ran up Jill’s spine. Regan Voorhees stood in the doorway.
“What are you doing?”
