Kimberly Williams vs. Waylon Creek

[Konrad Raab]

2 RP Limit for singles

Deadline: 11:59:59 pm ET Sunday, September 29, 2024

[Matt Hodges]

Tiles

[The Matt]

1 of 2
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September 23rd, 2024
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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The challenge had been laid out. Waylon Creek wants to face Kimberly Williams at Apocalypse. He even went as far as to insinuate that she was a coward if she didn’t accept. But Waylon clearly doesn’t know The Woman Scorned. No one knows how Kimberly thinks. Even Kim herself doesn’t understand how her mind works at times. Lately, it has become more and more difficult to plan things out. More and more she has found herself embracing her natural state of simple yet effective chaos. Being that simple agent of chaos is what catapulted her to five reigns as SCW Underground Champion, a United States Championship reign, and a Tag Team Championship reign. Kimberly knows that embracing chaos is what makes her dangerous and when she embraces chaos she is at her best. However, her chaotic nature makes it difficult to predict just whether or not The Woman Scorned actually will show up to accept the challenge of Waylon Creek at Apocalypse. Even CHBK can sense that Kimberly is descending further into her chaotic nature. Hence why there is a great big figurative question mark out by her name on the Apocalypse card. Even management isn’t sure whether or not she will actually show up. They aren’t sure will accept the challenge. It certainly isn’t out of cowardice. A woman who has made a name for herself by fighting in death matches, spilling her blood, and getting cut up in barbed wire on a daily basis, that kind of person is hardened; too hard to walk away out of cowardice. Kim just isn’t sure this fight with Waylon is…entertaining. Even Kim herself isn’t sure what she will do. This wouldn’t be the first time she had considered walking away from a fight. She walked away with her twin sister Marie from a tag match against Selena and Deanna Frost. But that was different. Kim WANTED that fight and she only walked away simply to show support for her sister. This is entirely her decision. Does she accept the challenge and show up to fight Waylon Creek? Is it worth it? Will she be entertained? Does this further her agenda of spreading her own brand of chaos?

Most normal people in her situation would be thinking long and hard about this situation. They would be weighing their options, trying to decide what to do. But Kimberly is far from normal. She is definitely not sane, especially now that she has descended deeper and deeper into her naturally chaotic persona. Instead of planning for a possible match at Apocalypse, Kimberly is busy spending time with her teenage nephew Sean Connor Jones. Marie Jones, Sean’s mother and Kim’s identical twin sister, is out visiting her friends in Albany, New York. Kim quickly volunteered to watch Sean. Marie was surprised, knowing that Kim potentially might end up facing Waylon at Apocalypse. But Kim is far from concerned about Apocalypse. Not right now, at least.

Kimberly Williams stands casually in a shaded section of a park in Boston. Her vibrant red hair falls past her shoulders, catching the sunlight and contrasting against her simple outfit. She’s wearing a black shirt that’s plain but fitted, hinting at her no-nonsense style, while her worn, torn jeans give her a rugged, laid-back vibe. Her feet are slipped into flip flops, further enhancing her relaxed look. Kim carries bags containing Burger King fast food. Beside her, Sean Jones, her teenage nephew, stands with the easy confidence of youth. He’s dressed in casual attire—a simple t-shirt, a pair of loose jeans, and sneakers. His short brown hair is slightly tousled, and he exudes a carefree energy. Sean carries himself with the relaxed demeanor of someone comfortable with his surroundings. The pair share a close bond; Sean has always adored his aunt Kim. Kim is a big reason why Sean was inspired to follow the family tradition of becoming a professional wrestler. Around them, the park is alive with the chatter of passersby, the distant sounds of street performers, and the rustling of leaves, as they make their way toward a place to eat, blending into the casual, urban rhythm of the city.

“Alright, kiddo, we got places galore to pick from…park benches…freshly cut grass…a nice big tree with shade…pick somewhere to eat because, damn it, I’m tired of carrying these bags.” Kim smirks. Sean chuckles.

“Ok, Aunt Kim.” He points to a large tree, the one Kim referenced earlier that is massive, enormous, and whose branches provide massive amounts of shade. “There!”

“Great choice!” Kim exclaims. “Let’s just try to avoid the WASP nest.”

“I don’t see any wasp nest…”

“Not the insect. I meant white anglo-saxon protestant.”

“Huh?”

“Ask your mother.” Kim grins as she leads the way towards the tree. Kim arrives first and quickly sits down, resting the bags on the ground. Sean sits down next to her while Kim begins rummaging through the Burger King bags. She reaches in and pulls out a neatly wrapped burger and hands it to Sean. “The whopper jr for you…”

“Thanks, Aunt Kim.”

“No problemo, kiddo.” She reaches back in and pulls out another neatly wrapped burger, this one much bigger than the one she handed to Sean. “And the triple whopper for me!”

“You sure you can eat a triple whopper?”

“Probably not.” Kim says with a shrug of her shoulders. “But I can always take some home to Caligula.”

“Oh.” Sean says. “I suppose you’re right.”

“So, kiddo, we’re right here in this gorgeous park, probably being poisoned by the pollutants in the air that Oktoberfest seems so god damn worried about, we’re sharing a five star meal courtesy of the upscale establishment known as Burger King.” She looks over at her nephew with mischief. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Aren’t you and mom competing next week at Apocalypse?”

“Oh please.” Kim rolls her eyes. “Don’t remind me.”

“Huh?” Sean looks a little confused. “But it could be a big night for both of you!”

“Maybe.” Kim shrugs her shoulders. “But people talk about your mom and I all the time. I get tired of hearing my name in people’s mouths.” Kim pokes Sean on the nose. “I want to hear about you, kiddo. It has been awhile since I heard from you, kiddo. What’s been going on in your life that might be tabloid worthy? Have you had any sex scandals? Bribed any public officials? Abducted by aliens…illegal or extra-terrestrial?”

“Huh?”

“What have you been up to, kiddo?”

“Oh…” Sean grins “...well I am training to be a wrestler.”

“Seriously? That’s awesome, kiddo! Your mom finally caved!”

“I guess she did!” Sean chuckles. “Currently I’m working with mom’s boyfriend. He’s teaching me basic self-defense and some basic mma. Eventually I’ll get a proper professional wrestler to train me.”

“Well I’m happy for ya, kiddo.” Kim pats him on the back. “Do you think your mom will ever let the black sheep of the family influence you?”

“Black sheep?”

“That’s me.” Kim says, almost sounding proud. “I’m the black sheep of the family.”

“No you’re not.”

“Of course I am.” Kim insists. “And I am fairly certain your mom would never let me introduce you to hardcore wrestling.”

“Why not?”

“For starters, her little baby boy would be in big danger.” Kim smirks knowingly. “Hardcore wrestling isn’t exactly a style like lucha libre or submission or that kind of stuff. In hardcore matches there are no rules. You can do literally anything you want to make sure your opponent’s shoulders stay down for a three count. I have had so many chair shots to the head that my brain is probably mush by now. I have shed enough blood to keep an entire family of vampires happy and content for centuries.” Kim notices a strange man wearing raggedy clothes walking off in the distance. He is very dirty and has an odor about him, making it clear that he hasn’t bathed in a long time. It is clear that this man has certainly seen better days. Kimberly turns back to look at Sean. “But there’s another thing about hardcore wrestling that probably makes your mom’s skin crawl.”

“What’s that?”

“See that guy over there.” She points to the stranger. Sean nods his head. “He’s probably homeless. Now I get it, people can’t always control their circumstances, so I’m not judging the guy. But face it, the reality is that the homeless are ostracized by society and looked at as outcasts. The same can be said of hardcore wrestlers. People like me, those who embrace that style, we are looked at as outcasts in the wrestling business.”

“Oh…” Sean’s voice trails off “...I didn’t know.”

“It’s all good.” Kim hugs Sean. “I know you look up to me like I’m your hero. And I mean, c’mon, I am so damned adorable and entertaining, who wouldn’t want to look up to me, huh? But if you follow in MY footsteps, this is what you can expect…lots of pain, lots of suffering, and your peers judging you.”

“Well I don’t care what others may say.” Sean says with a warm smile. “I think you’re awesome.”

“I love you too, kiddo.”

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September 23rd, 2024
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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Kimberly Williams tries her best to be a good aunt but she couldn’t watch and take care of Sean all day. Shortly after their lunch in the park, Kim dropped Sean off with Jessica Lasiewicz, Kim and Marie’s half-sister. Kimberly wants the rest of this day to herself. And thus far she has spent it deep in thought, trying to decide what to do about the challenge that was laid down before her. Does she go to Apocalypse and face Waylon Creek or does she just stay home? What does her chaotic nature tell her to do? Does she face Waylon Creek? Does she step up to the plate and face off against this group, the fall of man, one more time? Even now as Kim sits comfortably in her living room of her Boston, Massachusetts home, she still isn’t sure what to do.

Her living room reflects a sense of neglect and disarray that she doesn’t seem to notice or mind. The room is small and cramped, with worn-out furniture that’s seen better days. The couch she’s lounging on is sagging in the middle, its fabric frayed and stained from years of use. A few throw pillows are scattered around, but they’re mismatched and dirty. Empty takeout containers, crumpled papers, and discarded clothes litter the floor, creating a chaotic mess. The carpet is dingy and threadbare in places, with dark stains that have long since become permanent fixtures. Dust clings to every surface—tables, shelves, even the TV in the corner that flickers with static more often than not. Despite the state of the room, Kimberly seems completely at ease. The air in the room is stale, a mix of mustiness and the faint, lingering scent of food that was likely left out too long. There’s a window in the room, but it’s covered with heavy curtains, blocking out most of the natural light, adding to the dreary, claustrophobic atmosphere. Yet, Kimberly appears unfazed by her surroundings, her expression relaxed as she glances absentmindedly around the room, as if the mess is just part of the background noise of her life. Sitting on the sofa next to her is her beloved companion and plushy pal, the penguin Wasley. Seated on a table in front of the sofa is the hamster cage containing her hamster Caligula.

“What to do…what to do…” Kim says over and over as she leans back on the sofa.

“You could start by getting a female hamster to keep me company. I need to procreate damnit.” Caligula says, though it is Kim making the voice for Caligula.

“Hush, Caligula.” Kim remarks. “You need to get your mind out of the gutter. I’m talking about Waylon Creek.”

“I thought you said he was part of that inbred hillbilly gang. He’s probably not interested in your sweet ass.”

“I meant the match at Apocalypse!” Kim exclaims. “God! Why does everything have to be about sex when it comes to you?”

“Isn’t everything about sex?”

“I’ll just ask Wasley his opinion.” Kim turns to face the plushie penguin. “What do you think I should do, Wasley?”

“You do realize that Wasley is an inanimate object and cannot talk, don’t you?”

“Hamsters can’t talk either but you’re doing just fine.” Kim snaps back. Suddenly Kim’s attention is diverted by loud noises coming from the front door. It sounds as if someone is banging loudly, almost as if they are trying to break in. Kimberly furrows her brow as she considers her options and considers her situation. This scenario isn’t unusual. Her home is in a bad part of town. But she is rather impressed that whoever this is got past her booby trapped front yard.

“You know what I think?”

“What do you think, Caligula?”

“I think you have an intruder.”

“I think you’re right.” Kim grins from ear to ear. “I guess my little debate with you will have to wait. I need to tend to my guest.”

Kimberly takes Wasley and picks him up. She walks quietly through the living room and towards the front door area. The loud banging noises continue. By the time she reaches the front door she finds that the intruder has forced the door open and has stepped inside. She cannot make any of his features out, at least not yet. The intruder is still hidden within the shadows but Kim can still make out a silhouette; enough to determine it is a male. She can also see enough to determine where he is. The Woman Scorned takes Wasley and swings wildly, striking the intruder in the gut, causing him to double over and yelp in pain. Kim then swings again, smacking him in the back with Wasley. This causes the intruder to fall face first onto the floor.

“Stupid home invaders!” Kim declares. “You think that just because my home looks like a run down wreck that it must be easy pickings, huh? Well I am impressed that you managed to avoid my booby traps outside but what you probably didn’t anticipate is that I have a penguin and I know how to use him!” She smacks him again in the gut with Wasley. “Feel that? Those are lead weights, pal!” Kimberly kneels down next to the intruder as he tries to push himself up.

“Let’s see who you are, shall we?” She says with a mischievous grin. “My name is Kim and you are…” she grabs him by his graying hair and is a little surprised at first when she recognizes him as the homeless person she saw earlier today in the park with her nephew Sean. Kim quickly regains her composure and grins nastily. “You’re that guy from the park.”

“Huh?” He says through gritted teeth, the pain from being beaten by Kim coursing through his body.

“Yeah, yeah, I know who you are and I am fairly certain you know me. You might know who I am but I guarantee you’ve been following me since the park earlier today.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to be Bobby.”

“My name isn’t Bobby.”

“It is now.” Kim winks. “Now don’t lie to me Bobby. I don’t like being lied to.”

“My name isn’t Bobby.” He sighs. “But yeah, I saw you in the park, you and the kid. I followed you. I was hoping…” His voice trails off.

“Hoping you could find something of value here?” Kim shakes her head. “Doubt that. My place is a dump. I prefer it that way. No one with even half a brain would think anything of value is kept here. But maybe you were hoping that this place, as dumpy and crappy as it looks on the outside, might be abandoned and that you could just stay here. Huh? You could just invade my home, my property, and keep it as your own?” She smirks. “That was your genius plan, right Bobby? Because you are homeless. Aren’t you?”

“Yeah…”

“Good. We’re being honest with each other. We’re making progress.” Kim playfully pats him on the head. “So what is your real name, Bobby?”

“It’s Gerald.”

“Ok, Gerald. So you’re homeless. Really homeless.” Kim smirks devilishly. “That means no one will miss you. No one will even notice that you’re gone.”

“What…what are you talking about?”

“You have no people, do you? No family. Nothing.”

“Uh…” Gerald starts to speak but Kim cuts him off.

“You don’t have to say anything. I can see the fear in your eyes. You know I’m right.” She smirks. “But don’t worry, I have a place for you to stay…my basement is a very comfortable place…”

[The Matt]

2 of 2
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September 24th, 2024
Boston, Massachusetts
Off Camera
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Kimberly Williams and her descent into her natural, comfortable persona of simple yet beautiful chaos has grown at a rapid pace. It began with her losing the Underground Championship, the formation of the fall of man faction and them targeting her, and now all of it seems to be coming to a head at Apocalypse where Waylon Creek wants to face her one on one. Kimberly, though, still isn’t sure if she even wants the match. It is a standard match, not the underground that she prefers. It isn’t even a title match. Kim still feels as if she deserves a one on one shot at the Underground Title but she wasn’t included in the Underground Title contenders match. She wasn’t even considered. Instead, if Kim wants on the Apocalypse card, she has to face Waylon Creek. And she isn’t certain of what she will do. She had made such progress under the tutelage of her mother, Angelica Jones. It wasn’t long ago that Kimberly would have jumped at the chance to face anyone in any type of match. But that was Angelica’s influence, Angelica’s attitude rubbing off on her. Kimberly is starting to become her old chaotic self again. Everything that has happened to her these past few months have only further sent her back into her natural chaotic state. And when Kim is operating on nothing but chaos, even she isn’t sure what she might do. She isn’t certain if she will show up to face Waylon Creek and if she does show up she isn’t sure she will abide by the rules.

Those who know Kim the best have given her space. They know that right now is not the time to push her or to pressure her. Unfortunately not everyone knows this. Not everyone knows that this strange, erratic woman is a chaotic psychopath just waiting to bubble over and strike. Anything at all, the slightest wrong move, could set her off. And just twenty four hours ago, one individual, a homeless man by the name of Gerald, did make one wrong move. He did set Kimberly off. The Woman Scorned had taken notice of him in a park in Boston, Massachusetts where she was having a lunch with her nephew Sean. She noticed he was following them but never said anything. She just kept it in the back of her mind. Later that same night she caught him breaking into her home. But she took him down thanks to the help of her beloved pal Wasley the penguin. What did she do from there? Normal people would have called the police. Some might have set the poor guy free, knowing he was homeless and only decided to break the law out of desperation. But Kim is far from normal. She is descending back into her chaotic persona. Setting him free or letting the police handle this would not be fun. It would not be chaos. No one is waiting on him. No one would miss him. So, Kim reasoned, why not have some fun with this individual first?

Kimberly Williams descends the creaky, narrow staircase into the dimly lit basement of her run-down, barely livable house in Boston, Massachusetts. The wood beneath her feet groans with each step, the walls around her chipped and stained, revealing years of neglect. Cobwebs cling to the low ceiling, and dust rises with every movement. She doesn’t seem to notice or care, moving with a casual air of comfort, as if this is all perfectly normal for her. She’s dressed in her typical comfortable attire: a loose-fitting, faded sweatshirt with sleeves pushed up to her elbows, and torn denim jeans that hang loosely around her hips. Her red hair is tied messily into a loose bun at the back of her head, several stray strands falling around her face. Her bare feet, a little grimy from the state of the house, lightly brush the cool, uneven wood as she descends.

In her hands, Kimberly carefully cradles a small cage that houses her pet hamster, Caligula. The cage is as worn and dingy as the house itself, with scratches along the plastic sides and bits of bedding scattered within. Caligula, a pudgy little creature with brown and white fur, busily scurries around the cage, seemingly unaware of his rundown surroundings. Kimberly glances down at him with a soft, almost affectionate smile, as if the hamster is one of the few bright spots in her life. The basement itself is dark and damp, with cracked concrete floors and exposed pipes running along the ceiling. Boxes, old furniture, and broken appliances are stacked haphazardly in the corners, covered in layers of dust. A faint, musty odor fills the air, the scent of mold and old wood. Kimberly makes her way to a small table in the corner, where she sets Caligula’s cage down. She seems entirely at home in the gloom, unbothered by the peeling paint on the walls or the flickering, bare bulb overhead. To her, it’s just another part of the world she’s grown accustomed to. And there, nearby off in the corner, she sees him; chained to a wall is Gerald, the homeless man from yesterday, still wearing the same raggedy attire Kim first saw him wearing.

“Hi, Bobby!” Kim says cheerfully as she brings a wooden chair over and places it in front of Gerald. She sits down in the chair. “How ya doin’, Bobby?”

“My name is Gerald!”

“I know that, Bobby, but we’re not here to talk about that.” She points to the hamster cage. “Meet my pet hamster, Caligula. Say hi to Caligula.”

“What?”

“I said tell Caligula hello.”

“Why?!”

Kim grows frustrated. She finds a piece of broken glass on the ground. She picks it up and holds it menacingly close to his face. “Tell…Caligula…hello.”

“Uh…hello, Caligula.”

“How sweet!” Kim tosses the broken glass aside. Gerald breathes a sigh of relief. Kim turns her attention to the hamster. “Now Caligula, greet our guest! His name is Bobby.”

“How the fuck are ya, you fat piece of crap?”

“Huh?” Gerald isn’t sure what to think. This woman, Kimberly, just gets stranger and stranger each passing minute. Now she is speaking on behalf of the hamster. She is providing the voice for the hamster.

“Now that’s not nice, Caligula!” Kim scolds the hamster. “Apologize! Bobby here is our special guest!”

“First of all, ya dumb bitch, his name is Gerald. Not Bobby. Second, if he’s such a special guest, why ya got him chained to a wall in your god damn basement?”

“Hey! This is where I keep all of my special guests. I chained my own twin sister to that wall once!” Kim pauses. “Well, not once; I kept her there for a full month…she nearly lost her mind…”

“A month?!” Gerald exclaims. Kim chuckles.

“Oh don’t worry, Bobby. I don’t plan to keep you here that long. Just long enough to get your advice on some things. I mean, I have spoken to a lot of people about this. My mother…my sisters…even my friend Abi…but all of that advice left me still with so many unanswered questions. It left my mind still full of fog. It was then that I realize what I did wrong…” Kim grins nastily “...asking my friends, my family, my loved ones for advice, well that’s just too normal. That isn’t chaos. Chaos would be to let some total stranger dictate my next move! Chaos would be to let some random homeless guy who has no fucking clue who I am dictate my important life choices.” Kim pats him on the head. “That’s where you come in, Bobby.”

“Gerald!”

“Whatever. Point is I have very important decisions to make and you are going to help me make them.”

“And you…you’ll promise to let me go?”

“Do you really think you have a choice here, Bobby?” Kim smirks. “But if it makes you feel better, yes…I promise.”

“Ok, I’ll help you I guess.” He sighs. Kim claps her hands happily.

“Yay! The big problem I got is this guy. His name is Waylon Creek and he is a hillbilly and I am fairly certain he has sex with farm animals.”

“Is he hitting on you?” Gerald asks. Kim starts to gag.

“God no!”

“Ha! Told ya it was always about sex!” Kim turns back to face her hamster.

“Shut the hell up, Caligula, or I feed you to the next door neighbor’s dog!” She turns back to face Gerald. “But no, Bobby, Waylon isn’t interested in dating me. He wants to fight me. He thinks I’m a threat or some shit like that. Isn’t crazy, Bobby? Do I really look like a threatening individual to you?” Kim stares at Gerald who is still shivering with fear. Kim chuckles. “Oh…right…I have you chained up in the basement at my mercy. Maybe you shouldn’t answer that last question.”

“Ok…”

“Anyway. He wants to fight me. But I’m not sure I’m particularly interested in fighting him. What do you think? Should I take time out of my busy schedule to fight this clown or do I just tell him to shove it?”

“I don’t…” Gerald shakes his head “...I don’t know! Hell, I don’t know the guy. I don’t know you. If you want to fight him, fight him. If not, don’t! Why should I make that call?”

“Because I have you at my mercy you blithering idiot!” Kim spits at him. “God, Bobby, you are so dense. You are also not very helpful. My sister, when I had her locked up in this basement, she was very helpful. Gave me her credit cards, her social security number, shit, gave me her whole identity.”

“You stole that, bitch.” Kim turns back to face Caligula.

“I said can it, you stupid ass rodent!” Kim exclaims angrily. She turns back to face Gerald. “Ok, Gerald, so you were a complete bust in helping me decide if I’m gonna fight Inbred Hillbilly Creek. But maybe you can help me with this other matter. So many people in my life…my sisters…my mother…all of them think, for some reason, that I belong. They think that I am capable of being normal.” She grins sadistically. “But you tell me…am I capable of being normal? Or am I crazy? Am I psychotic?”

“Trust me lady…” Gerald nods his head vehemently “...you are psychotic!”

With that answer Kimberly smiles warmly. She stands up and pushes the wood chair she had just been sitting in to the side. She leans over and kisses Gerald on the forehead. “Thank you for your honesty. I knew everyone was wrong about me. I knew that I am incapable of being normal. Crazy Kim is who I am. Chaos is what I do best. So thank you for confirming what I already knew.”

“So…uh…” Gerald stutters as a cold, evil look washes across Kimberly’s face “...are you going to let me go?”

“Let you go?” Kim asks. “I said I would let you go, didn’t I?”

“Yes! Yes you did!”

“But I never said I would let you go…free…”

“What?!”

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do yet. Maybe I’ll let Caligula here decide?” Kim smirks nastily. “But I WILL get rid of you tonight, I guarantee you that. HOW I get rid of you, well, that’s up to chaos to decide.”

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On Camera
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Apocalypse: The term evokes strong images of chaos and destruction. Biblical images of war and hell fire. But if you aren’t a Bible beater then maybe the word Apocalypse evokes imagery of a zombie apocalypse! Flesh eating, brain eating, undead zombies wreaking havoc on a civilization on the brink of total collapse!

That kind of apocalypse sounds fun!

The funny thing is, the actual term apocalypse means nothing like a zombie apocalypse or a biblical war involving hell fire. The term actually comes from a Greek word meaning a revelation. Now that is definitely nowhere near as fun or entertaining as zombies. It’s actually quite boring.

So allow me to use the term apocalypse in its literal usage. I have had an apocalypse recently. I had a revelation. I’m no hero. I’m not meant to fight the good fight nor am I interested in fighting the good fight. And fighting the newest big bad, the fall of man, I am not interested.

Waylon Creek. I heard your little challenge and, quite frankly, the prospects of facing you at Apocalypse just doesn’t appeal to me. For one it’s a normal match. Not underground, not a death match, nothing fun. And then there’s the fact that your Television Title isn’t on the line. The only two things that could tempt me into making the trip to Apocalypse…a death match or a title match…and you couldn’t give me either one.

So will I show up? I never signed a contract to face you. Yet. Calling me a coward, appealing to my pride. That won’t work. I have no pride. I walked out on a tag match against the Frost girls. Don’t think for a second I wouldn’t walk out on a member of the fall of hillbilly.

Or maybe I should send Marie out there in my place. She could be announced as Kimberly Williams and no one would know the difference. That’s the joy of being an identical twin.

Who knows? Maybe I will show up? I might show up, kick your ass, and humble you in front of the world. You just don’t know what I will do. No one knows what I will do. Hell, I don’t even know what I might do from one moment to the next. That’s what makes me dangerous.

I had grown complacent. I had become too predictable. But that’s changing because I am returning to my roots to what I am known for…beautiful chaos. Simple. Effective. I am not interested in new challenges. After Apocalypse is over, when I have moved on from you…assuming that’s me in the ring, wink wink…I am going to return to the world that I rightfully belong in…

…the Underground.

To hell with new challenges. To hell with advancing my career. I am the god damn Underground. And that’s where I intend to stay.

But first you and your ridiculous challenge. You assume I am interested but did nothing to make it interesting. So will I show up to beat you down? Maybe. Maybe I will. I don’t want to let my Kimmymaniacs down. Then again, I really have no interest in involving myself with the fall of inbred trash and this match just means further involvement.

So how do I wrap this up? Let’s try some sportsmanship! Congratulations, Waylon, on your forfeit victory! Or if I decide to show up, good luck and prepare for war! Or maybe if I bribe Marie to sneak in and wrestle in my place, good luck against Marie! To everyone ready to watch Apocalypse…no one knows what to expect. Not even you, Waylon.

Now that’s chaos.

CHBK. I hope you’re paying attention because this is a warning. No one can control Kimberly Williams. People have tried. Just ask Shaun Cruiserweight. I drove him batshit crazy. If you think that somehow my mother has tamed me, then you are mistaken. I am not some trained circle animal jumping through hoops. I do whatever I want to do based on the whims of chaos. And do not think for one second that me not showing up to face Waylon at Apocalypse is out of the question. It very much is a possibility. I did it once before. And do not think that the fact that I was overlooked when you were picking names out of a god damn hat to participate in that Underground Title contender’s match. I want a one on one Underground Title rematch and I did not appreciate you overlooking me.

If I do show up to fight Waylon Hillbilly Creek, then keep in mind I am not doing it for you. I am not doing it for SCW. I am damn sure not doing it because Waylon or The Fall of Man are evil jerks who need to be stopped. If I show up to kick his ass from pillar to post it is because I refuse to let down my fans. It is because I refuse to walk away from my Kimmymaniacs. I would walk away from SCW in an instant, I would walk away from you in an instant. I am not loyal to you. I am loyal, fiercely loyal, to my Kimmymaniacs, to my fans who have supported me through even the toughest of times. I will fight for them, I will bleed for them, I will leave years of my life in that ring for them.

And I also do it for chaos.

So Waylon, you view me as a threat? I don’t give a fuck. But if you want to fight me that’s fine but don’t expect me to play by the rules. SCW can make this a standard match but I am not here to prove that I am a wrestling expert. I don’t care if people believe I am a good mat wrestler. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone. So if I walk into Apocalypse and accept your stupid little challenge, do not expect a mat wrestling Kimberly Williams ready to play by the rules. Expect the Queen of the Death Match who will throw the rules out the window. If I get disqualified, who the hell cares? I am not looking for a win. If I accept your challenge, it isn’t because I want to beat you, it’s because I want to maim you. It’s because I want to make you bleed.

What can you expect at Apocalypse? I don’t even know the answer to that. What you can expect is chaos. Unpredictable, beautiful, chaos. I might show up, I might not. It might be me fighting you, it might not. I might play by the rules, or I might throw the rules out the window and just fucking maim you. No one knows what will happen. I don’t know and you don’t know either. That’s called chaos and that is what makes this so god damn beautiful.

[Matt Hodges]

Emma