Post by Jill Park on Jun 22, 2023 20:09:13 GMT -5
“Lissie Hope is a walking existential crisis.
Her name has been synonymous with the Action Wrestling brand for as long as I can remember. Before I even signed on the dotted line, I knew who she was. I heard her story. A classic, but harrowing story of overcoming adversity and personal demons. Of addiction. Of death. It’s a story that so many of her fans, or hell- so many of Action Wrestling fans in general have come to acknowledge, respect, and relate to.
Most importantly, it’s a story that I am so sick and fucking tired of hearing about. Somehow, a story so personal; a story of how you overcame addiction and mental health struggles, has somehow morphed itself into being the absolute center of attention. From brand deals, to reality shows, to movies, and beyond. For a while I even believed it. Lissie Hope overcame her demons. She overcame her struggles. A story fit for a hollywood blockbuster, except in this case it was real. It was your life.
But, as the days turned into weeks, and months, and even years, it has become clear to me that that’s not really what happened after all. You didn’t -beat- these struggles. You became them. You personified them. They became as much a part of you as anything else.
On Monday Night Clash, I delivered what may have been my most brutal, my most honest diatribe. It wasn’t something I decided on at the spur of the moment. There was a time where I thought the two of us were becoming friends. All of this time later and it seems like a different life entirely, but those moments still happened. At a time when I broke into this company, I really did feel like I was on an island, and you were one of, if not the only person I could count on as a ‘friend’.
You and your ilk have always labeled me as this vicious and untrustworthy monster. You like to remember those times, and claim that YOU saw through ME. How incredibly revisionist of you.
Regardless of what you’d like the narrative to be, we both know the truth. We both know that I stepped away from you. That the supposed worst person in the history of this company severed their ties with you. It was real simple, you were in a cult.
Yet, all this time later, and that hasn’t changed. Philidor Holdings may have died, but you simply moved on to create your own cult. The cult of Lissie Hope. I’ve sat back and I’ve listened to your absolutely insufferable rants about how you’re a feminist. How you’re a trail blazer. How you’ve paved the way for people like ME to succeed. How incredibly egomaniacal. How self-absorbed. How conceited. You will stand out there in the ring, in front of thousands of people and proclaim that you seek to empower women.
It is perhaps the biggest lie you’ve ever told, and you’ve told so, so many. You want all the glory. When I WON THE WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP I had to stand there, and be asked the most mind numbingly STUPID questions about it. I had to sit through all of the comparisons to you, Lissie. And for a few years, I had to PRETEND that you weren’t the most insufferable fucking person I’ve ever met.
Last Clash, I finally got to say my piece. I finally had my time to make you FACE exactly what you are. You have gone to great heights. You’ve accomplished great things. Because you were protected from yourself. You didn’t have to look in the mirror. You didn’t have to truly FACE what you’ve done; who you’ve wronged.
When you finally had to face those sins; when you had to acknowledge the consequences of your actions, you crumbled.
Just like you will at Evolution.”
Jake Paul sat up in his hospital bed. It had been several weeks since his match with Lissie Hope that had resulted in a myriad of injuries at her hands. He was finally on the mend, all the bruising from his face was finally fading away.
As Jake was watching SportsCenter highlights, Jill Park walked into the room. Jake’s eyes widened as he laid eyes on her. She didn’t seem eager to be there. Her eyes diverted away. It was as if she was trying to look at anything else.
“Funny to see you here.” Jake finally said. Slowly, Jill laid eyes on him.
“You haven’t been here at all. I get it, you’re the World Heavyweight Champion. Trust me, I get it. But you couldn’t so much as call, text…anything? I mean, really. Leaving our relationship even out of the equation for a second, I’ve helped you immensely. From helping with training, to actually interfering in some of your matches. You wouldn’t be where you are today, if it wasn’t for me.”
Jake let that hang in the air, but Jill ultimately didn’t say anything. She just stared at him. Her face didn’t betray an angry state. In fact, her face offered him nothing. She was expressionless; emotionless. Which in some ways, may have been even more eerie.
“Are you that much of a coward that you can’t even face this? That you’re so fucking consumed by your own self that you couldn’t so much as check in on me, even once? Even YOUR BOSS could do that much.”
Again, Jill said nothing. Jake was clearly frustrated with the whole thing.
“We’ve been through all of this already. Fuck!” He exclaimed as he stood up from the bed. It seemed to still be a slight struggle, but he managed to stand on his own. He stepped towards Jill, who still showed little emotion. Jake wasn’t done quite yet, though.
“I thought we were passed all of this shit. This “fake relationship” nonsense. I see why you needed it before, but I KNOW we moved passed it. We allowed ourselves to be real with each other. I’ve seen you at your most vulnerable. That’s not a bad thing, Jill. It’s normal, whether you think so or not. But, for you to be so selfish in the time I could have used you the most, it hurts.”
Jill looked at the ground. For the first time since she walked through the door, she did show some emotion. She looked remorseful. Jake quickly saw it, and attempted to close the distance between them and hug her. As he extended his arms out, he got a stiff palm in his chest. He looked shocked and saddened that Jill had stopped him.
“I’m sorry, Jake.” She finally said.
“You failed me.” She added, coldly. She didn’t say another word, and neither did he. She turned and walked out of the room without another thought, leaving Jake to wonder what in the hell just happened.
“For a woman who has spent her entire career trying to show, to PROVE that she is her own being, that she doesn’t need anyone else…Lissie Hope has an awful lot of daddy issues. Nothing made this more evident than the spectacle that aired on Monday Night Clash when we heard from her father.
Lissie, do you honestly have no shame? Or are you just so incredibly self-unaware? You came out to cry, to bitch, to moan. You are so fucking enamoured with Torture. It was pathetic. But then again, look who we are talking about.
While I understand your frustration to a degree, how unfortunate this debacle truly was. How disappointing. How embarrassing. It was nothing more than a petulant child walking down to the ring and yelling “it should be me! Me! Me!”.
After everything you’ve been afforded. After all of the opportunities you’ve been granted. How fucking tone deaf.
But, that’s the Lissie Hope we’ve come to expect, isn’t it?
Selfish. Entitled. Loud.
The very same Lissie Hope who gladly took the mantle of the Women’s Championship after I was unjustly stripped of the Championship. That’s a detail you left out of your fairy tale, isn’t it? It was practically a participation trophy.
It’s the exact type of hypocrisy that I’ve come to expect every time you open your mouth.
It comes from a place of failure. Of heartache. Of desire to be something you’re not.
Because you’re not the face of Action Wrestling, like you so desperately crave to be.
You’re not the role model that you sell to every little girl that watches Action Wrestling every week.
You’re not even the woman you CLAIM to be. Everything about you is fabricated. A promotional fluff piece is all you are. Your true skeletons are hidden, no matter how much you attempt to display your weakness on screen.
The sad truth is that despite everything you say about me; no matter how much you try to assassinate my character…you want to be me. For I am EVERYTHING you’ve claimed to be, and so much more. I didn’t have to sleep around in the locker room. I didn’t have to publicly struggle with several addictions. I didn’t have to do any of the attention-seeking bullshit that you have.
As much as you HATE to admit it, all I did was be myself. Everything else fell into place. And that is what drives you mad. That’s what keeps you up at night. That’s what really, truly bothers you about Jill Park.
I am a pariah, it’s no secret. Many have planned my demise, and even moreso, many have wished for it. Week in and week out. I’ve been beaten, and I’ve been bloodied and all the fans and even the locker room cheered on. They wanted so badly for me to fail.
But none more than you, Lissie.
I’m everything you strive to be, Lissie. I truly am the role model that you so badly want to be. I am a success, without any of your failures. I am the reigning CHAMPION you never could be. You set out on this documentary to show how far you’ve come despite your demons and your failures. You set out to prove you are a hero.
But it’s based on a false narrative. It’s another sad attempt to live up to ME. You can’t even be honest enough with yourself to show your truth. It’s nothing but another promotional piece, designed to shove YOUR NARRATIVE down the throats of everyone else. Designed to show you in a favorable light.
You can’t even face what you are. You cannot fathom who you are, and what you’ve done. That’s the difference between us, Lissie.
I revel in it.”
As she exhales a plume of smoke from her Lemon Drop vape, Jill Park leaned back against her Porsche and looked up towards the sky. It was a rare moment of bliss that would be soon followed by a sigh, as her busy mind quickly brought her back into reality. She tossed her vape pen into her purse, and it was quickly replaced by her iPhone. She quickly swiped into her contacts and called Torture.
“Uh hello?”
“You’ve been ignoring me.”
“Christ, we’ve been over this. I stripped Lissie of the title. I threw her off her game. It’s on you to capitalize.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means she should have been easy pickings. Yet, you’ve almost been dropped by a Crown of Thorns multiple times in the last few weeks.”
“Why is it that you prioritize a silly personal vendetta with a bitch I already beat for the World Championship, more important to you than protecting your biggest investment, all of a sudden?”
“You beat her, huh? That’s an interesting way to remember it.”
Jill was silent. Seething.
“Now that you mention it, I HELPED you beat Jolee. I ensured you stayed Champion long enough to MAIN EVENT EVOLUTION. Something you haven’t done before, so you’re welcome for that. You also haven’t helped me a single bit when it comes to Jolee, so I would tread lightly, if I were you.”
“Everyone thinks Lissie has my number. Despite me EMBARRASSING her last week, it’s like I’ve been ruled out. I have had one of the BEST title reigns ever, and everyone continues to say Lissie has my number. It’s an absolute joke.”
Torture let her vent, but didn’t offer a reply.
“I’m starting to think maybe you share a similar opinion.”
Her tone was biting; accusatory.
“Get a grip, Jill. I believe in you, there’s a difference. At a certain point, you’ll need to stand on your own two feet. You want people to stop with the paper champion rhetoric? The bullshit about winning on your own? Go out there at Evolution, and beat Lissie Hope in the middle of the ring. Shut them the fuck up, and remind me why I chose you to begin with.
Because I sure as hell didn’t do it for you to rant at me on the phone every week.”
Jill had a reply ready, but before she could utter another word, Torture had already hung up.
“Everyone seems to have bought into her story.
As Lissie Hope marches forward as some fraudulent beacon of hope, they all buy in. They bought the ticket, they bought the hype. The newest Action Wrestling star to hype this whole thing up as a war. That the locker room needs to stand up and unite, all to take down one person.
Me.
It’s just as silly as when notable main eventers said it. Every bit as laughable as when Sam Kidsgrove and Gerard Angelo, among many others, came for the same crown. They want my head on a pike, but are unwilling to do the dirty work to get there. That’s exactly why I STILL stand before you all, six months later, as the World Heavyweight Champion. There is no war to be had. No good fight to wage. It is all hyperbole. Over exaggerated drivel from a weak mind.
In the manner of a few months, these same crisis actors went from telling you I was a choke artist; someone who would ALWAYS lose the big match, to now being the most dominant and destructive force Action Wrestling has seen since Walter.
So which is it?
I always knew the truth. As the brigade near the top worked diligently to uphold a status quo, I continued to chip away at their wall. I smashed expectations and delivered memorable performances until I could no longer be denied. I exemplified the term “breakout star”. I’ve set Championship reign records and I’ve hospitalized Hall of Fame caliber stars.
Then we have Lissie Hope. Someone who has “been there” apparently. She’s been to the top of the mountain. She’s BEEN the World Heavyweight Champion on multiple occasions. She’s felt the ecstasy of a Championship win, along with the heartbreak of losing it. Which makes it so much more strange when she stands before you all, and can’t act like she’s been here before.
Before perhaps the biggest match of her career, what is she doing?
Is she telling you how much this opportunity means? No.
Is she talking about the immeasurable task that stands before her? No.
What she’s doing is precisely what every other vapid, self-absorbed, clout vampire does.
She’s selling herself to every single person she conceivably can. She’s selling ‘Blackheart’. Normally I couldn’t possibly care less about it. Normally, I would allow Lissie Hope to continue to strain her legacy and wear out her welcome. I would be happy to, in fact.
But not this time.
For all of the BULLSHIT I’ve had to hear for YEARS about who Lissie Hope is. What she’s done, and what it all means. To finally have here in front of me, one on one, for the biggest prize in this industry. In the most important match this company has ever seen.
I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed for Lissie Hope. For all I see is a mere shadow of what her reputation builds her up as. As what her fans build her up as, hell what this COMPANY has built her up as for all of these years. It is the cult of Lissie Hope in full force. It has built her up as something she will NEVER live up to. She doesn’t care about this opportunity, she only cares about what it means for her career after wrestling. What else she can market? What other deals she can spit out before she’s undoubtedly a washed-up has been.
I have seen the real Lissie Hope. Ironically, so has every fan that has ever been to an event, but they believe in Lissie Hope. They drink the kool-aid. They’ve been on Lissie in this journey, and they want to see the climax.
And that’s what you think this is, isn’t it Lissie? You think that Evolution is the culmination of all this work. All the pandering. The crying to Torture. The woe is me, daddy issue bullshit. The jealousy, all of it. Your successes and your failures. You expect to walk into MetLife and slay the beast.
You’ve overcome a lot of demons in your past, Lissie. But, you have no IDEA what awaits for you at Evolution.
You have one more demon standing in your way. It’s not addiction. It’s not the loss of a beloved friend or family member. It’s unlike any of these traumatic episodes that you’ve whored out to try and fake likability and relatability.
Instead, it’s the greatest challenge you’ve ever faced.
Jill fucking Park.”
“Bourbon.”
Jill Park’s snappy reply to the waitress surprised Mazy. It was time for their weekly meeting at a local cafe in Venice Beach. Mazy looked astonished, so much so that she didn’t notice the waitress ask her for her own order. After scrambling and stuttering, she ordered her usual, a mimosa. As the waitress nodded and stepped away, Mazy frantically tried to compose herself.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah?” Jill said, confused by the blunt question. “Why?”
“Because you just ordered bourbon at 11AM.”
A long pause followed, as Jill stared across the table at Mazy, unsure of if she could trust her, even after everything she’d done.
“Is it your match against Lissie Hope, at Evolution?” Mazy finally asked. Jill did not look pleased by the question.
“No.” She replied, emphatically. The tension was briefly broken as the waitress came back with their drinks. Jill eyed her glass of bourbon and took a drink immediately. Mazy didn’t. She continued to stare at Jill, with a worried look on her face.
“Do you think I’m going to lose?” Jill bluntly asked, annoyed. She was perhaps showing her true feelings in regards to the match at hand.
“No, of course not! You just look…worried.”
“Everyone has it in their mind that my days are numbered. Despite everything I have done; everything I have accomplished. The Lissie Hope hype train is as strong as ever, despite the fact that it’s hurtling towards a wall. I embarrassed Lissie Hope on live television. That wasn’t a sign of weakness, and it wasn’t even a statement on the match. I showed her that I could bring her crumbling down to reality, on a whim.
I did it because I fucking could.”
“Is that why you met with those producers? And that girl, Emma?” Mazy inquired, after finally taking a sip of her drink. She seemed very casual, despite the nature of the conversation. Jill on the other hand, seemed a little more guarded. Her eyes darted all around, almost as if she expected others to be eavesdropping.
“You think it was desperate.” Jill accused.
“No!” Mazy exclaimed, trying to diffuse. Regardless of what she actually did think about it, it was clear that JILL thought it was desperate. Her tone, her defensiveness, and her own words betrayed her. She was desperate, no doubt about it.
“I did what I had to do.” Jill added, finally.
“How’s Jake?” Mazy attempted to change the subject. Jill didn’t look any more impressed with this topic, either.
“We’re through.”
Mazy looked shocked.
“Oh my god! Why?!”
Jill promptly emptied the rest of her glass, before waving to the waitress for a refill.
“He’s useless. It’s embarrassing.”
“Anyways, I think it’s time we talked about the girls. How is everything going?”
Mazy suddenly looked excited again.
“Great! Everyone is turning on Raquel, as you wanted. Megan AND Tiffany have both expressed to me that they want her gone.”
Jill smiled for the first time all day.
“Good. She wanted all the attention. All the glory. It’s about time she’s taken down a peg. It’s time she’s destroyed.”
Jill was practically salivating. Mazy wondered if they were still even talking about the same thing anymore.
“Excuse me?”
Jill suddenly snapped back into reality.
“Nothing. I need another drink.”
“Let me make one thing perfectly clear. I don’t give a fuck what happened to Mae Ashby. I don’t care whose life you made a living hell in the pursuit of being accepted. But to watch you squirm in that ring when it’s mentioned, when you are so terribly mortified by the weight of your own actions, it’s too perfect. You sabotaged yourself.
I didn’t have to do anything more than acknowledge that it happened. Something you can’t even fathom. Something you clearly thought you could brush under the rug and forget about.
I’ve had to deal with these stupid fucking comparisons to you for three years. All the what if’s. All the thoughts about a dream match. It’s absolute fucking dogshit. The fact of the matter is, when I signed with Action Wrestling, I considered you a pillar of the company. I thought you were one of the top dogs.
After maybe a year I realized that was nothing more than fluff. It was your promotional machine at work. Kudos on having the best twitter fingers in Action Wrestling. Congratulations on being the biggest fucking fraud I’ve ever met.
I don’t use that label lightly like so many do. I’ve been called a fraud by so many of your peers during my ascent to the top of this company. I’ve been called vapid and cold. I’ve been accused of ‘sleeping around’ to get to the top. Ironically, many of the same labels and insults you’ve been accustomed to.
That’s where our comparison ends. I lit the world on fire, while yours began burning to the ground. I was sure of myself, while you turn to Wild Turkey when you have a bad day. I am EVERYTHING you aspire to be. You talk about building women up, and creating a wave of feminism for a new generation of wrestlers, of people. I’ve done ALL OF THAT without having to subject the audience to a single insufferable monologue about how important I am to the industry. How about I’m creating change.
There’s a simple reason for that, well actually two.
One, I don’t actually give a fuck about anyone else. MY success is just that: mine. I don’t need to placate to the masses, and I don’t need a fucking pat on the back like you do, Lissie. I don’t need a runner-up trophy like the Women's Championship. I don’t need any of the echo chamber and you surround yourself with.
All I need is what I already have, fastened around my waist: The World Heavyweight Championship. I’ve worked very hard to get to this spot, while Lissie Hope just waited and waited for her next shot. She knew that eventually, the cult of Lissie Hope would be appeased.
I showed you on the last Clash that I could get to you. That I could stare into your soul, and show the world how shallow that void is. How uncaring you truly are. If you were more like me, and channeled it for your own self-gain, maybe I could at least respect it. Instead, you use it to try and prop yourself up to some imaginary moral high ground while simultaneously sticking your nose up at me for my success. You think you are the greatest to ever do it, we all think that about ourselves. But you Lissie, you’ve amassed a cult following that will feed you these lies no matter how poorly you perform. You are not allowed to feel pain or anguish any longer. The cult of Lissie will not allow you to feel bad.
At Evolution, you will be in for a culture shock. After all of your posturing and all of your holier-than-thou BULLSHIT you will come face to face with the one demon you’ll never overcome.
Me.
When I beat you in the middle of the ring, you will hit rock bottom…again.
Everything around you will come crashing down, and you’ll have me to thank for this hard reset.
You’re welcome.”
Mazy
Everything is set to go.
What awaited her on the other door was surprising, to say the least.
Mazy, Tiffany, Megan, Raquel.
All four cast members sat on the sectional together. They all had glasses of champagne, and were laughing it up. Maybe Mazy was still working them, but Jill could sense that wasn’t the case. Jill made it a couple of steps inside before Mazy finished off her glass and stood up, glaring at Jill. For the first time since she’d met her, Mazy made Jill uncomfortable.
“What’s going on here?”
The four ladies once again shared a laugh, with Mazy taking a step forward.
“We’re having a meeting. Just like you wanted.” Mazy’s words were said with such malice. Jill wasn’t sure what to think.
“You tried to poison everyone against me.” Raquel spat, as she stood up as well. “You needed a common enemy. You needed a fall guy. You crave that animosity; that chaos.”
Jill was flabbergasted. It takes alot to make Jill Park speechless, but this did the trick.
“You never had us.” Megan said as stood, followed by Tiffany. “We knew from the start, you stupid fucking bitch.”
Mazy stepped closer to Jill. She had completely changed. It now seemed like she was the leader of the group.
“You really bought it, Jill. The whole act.”
Jill was infuriated. “What the hell is this about?”
“Remington.”
Jill’s face betrayed her. She was in shock.
“I knew her. She didn’t deserve what you did to her. She didn’t deserve to be tossed away like yesterday’s trash. Your actions should have consequences, but they never do, do they?”
Mazy continued towards Jill, but the click of a switchblade stopped her. She stared in Jill in a confused horror. Jill Park was brandishing a switchblade all right.
“You want to come for me? You want to fucking destroy what I’ve built? You don’t get it.
I could get away with murder.”