Jones/Riddle/Matthews Vs. Knox/Levi/Leon

Betrayal..

Bert sat quietly in catering, his beard had been trimmed down to a neat goatee and his usually shaggy dirty blonde hair was neatly combed. A job in media had served his self image and his self worth for the better. Which was a counterbalance to the recent romantic failure in his life. Not only had he misread the vibe with Adrienne, but he had apparently misread her whole vibe if you read far enough into her tweets with Slyvie.

He wasn’t bitter, not in the least. Adrienne Levi would always be special to him, she was the first person to help him haul Matt out of that hole. The first person to shoulder an ancient load with him. It was probably that relief that he let evolve into romantic feelings. Probably immature of him, for the dude had only just turned twenty six. The universe owed him a little cut slack.

The echo of approaching footsteps had broken him from his train of thought, his light eyes flicking up to meet the approaching form. He felt his heart skip a beat, in surprise more than infatuation. The form finished it’s approach, and took a seat across from him. Dressed impeccably in slacks and a dress shirt, platinum blonde hair pulled up in a tight bun. Ice blue eyes settling on his form and freezing him in place.

“Hello, Bert.”

Hope Knox’s voice was as chipper as it was quiet and restrained. Her demeanor was so eerily similar to Matthew’s, although he had yet to see how her temper stacked up. And frankly, he never wanted to.

“Hey..Hope. What’re you doing here? It’s an off week for Chaos.”

“I know. I came to see you.”

His brows furrowed, he shifted in his seat. One could see the gears turning behind Bert’s eyes as he tried to figure out the purpose of the younger Knox’s presence. Before he could verbally express these questions and concerns, Hope cut in.

“I know that Dad and you had an altercation. I know that he slid, and almost lost himself..” she trailed off, icy demeanor threatening to crack with a show of emotion for a split second, “And I know that, however bad it was between you two? It’s what snapped him back to reality.”

Bert scoffed before he knew he was going to. He rolled his eyes, sliding down in his seat looking like a defiant teenager as his arms crossed, gaze shifting to a different side of the room. He considered his words for a moment, before speaking.

“Well, i’m really glad him hitting me with a whiskey bottle could help him,” he shook his head, straightening up and leaning on the table, propping himself with his elbows “No offense, Hope but I really am not interested in smoothing that over right now.”

“Even if he just saved you from whatever tho-”

“Don’t. Don’t throw that in my face, please,” Bert’s expression soured, as Hope’s mouth drifted shut, her gaze still resting on him. If his interruption phased her, she did not show it. God, she controlled the room more than Matt did. Shaking his sudden loss of confidence and grabbing at the fraying ends, Bert continued “Whatever that was, Matt would have stepped in for anyone. It didn’t matter if it was me, so no. I’m not gonna let that affect how i’m thinking right now..”

Hope smiled a small smile, her pale lips separating to show perfect white teeth. Her head bowed as she stifled a chuckle, before raising her face and gaze back to her father’s best friend.

“So, you want to continue being mad at my father because he saved you from a kidnapping, like he would anyone else? Should I forward the sentiments to DC, tell them you’ll no longer be reading Superman until you feel he’s saving you for you?”

“Ok, first off, your dad isn’t superman. He’s an emotionally unstable, mentally unstable son of a bitch who lashes out anytime he feels like he’s failed. No matter how many people try and hold him up, he finds a way to crush them!” He burst forth in retort, face reddening with anger and embarrassment. God, she even talked shit like Knox. There was no way they weren’t blood related..

“And you want to leave that man alone?” she inquired, “That man who despite all those faults, looked out for you and brought you to this opportunity? Maybe I'm over simplifying, maybe I'm justifying his actions too much. Paternal bias, I suppose...but here’s what isn’t bias, Mister McAlroy.”

She leaned forward onto the table herself, propping her elbows as she met his eyes.

“He needs his best friend, and so do you.”

---

“I thought better of you.”

The camera cuts on to find Matthew Knox sat at the end of a nondescript pier, his back to the camera. The sky is overcast in a dark, vengeful gray. The ocean roars with the wind in a symphony of nature’s most ominous qualities. His black hair blows in the wind, cascading to the side of his head and covering the face hidden from view.

“Steve Matthews, I really thought you were a better man than you revealed yourself to be this past Chaos,” his voice drips with disappointment. He shakes his head before continuing, “You spent the first part of your journey here in Carnage as the unofficial foil to Alex Winter. Joined at the same time, shared the same debut, but you always took the high road where he slummed it.”

“Where Alex Winter would make an off color comment, you would lend a compliment. Where Alex stood on the necks of his fellow competitor to get ahead and sold his soul, you did all you could to show you had one that wasn’t on the market.”

Matthew stood slowly, keeping his back to the camera. The left side of his face is revealed though, as he turns his head north, into the wind. His face paint is on, Glasz eye popping from the black that circled it. He took in a deep inhale of the wind, releasing it once more before continuing.

“All that good faith. All that respect you earned. Thrown away in an instant, and why? If we were to listen to you, it’s because I was never around to help you. Despite you having saved my ass more than once,” he bowed his head, shaking his head before rotating his face back to the easy, across the Atlantic.

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Steve. I should have thanked you for your help. So I’ll do it now. Thank you, Steve Matthews. Thank you for attacking Alex Winter at the given opportunities. Thank you for saving Jon Willis and I from Ryker and Seven. Thanks for running down with like, five other people when I had gone out to make the save when Alex was about to murder Belle Silva.”

“So, now that that is out of the way...I have a theory,” He shoved his hands in his pockets, face turning to the south now. The face revealed shows only that of Matt Knox, free of the markings and paint that make him The Raven to the legion, and his enemies alike.

“I think you realized, that you are just too fucking boring to stand on your own two feet. You don’t have the fortitude, or the personality to work for or win over the appreciation and the adoration you crave the same as the rest of us. So, you sit back there. You see Alex and all the attention he gets - No press is bad press, right Steve?” he chuckles, face rotating east.

“And so, you threw your lot in with him. Took out Pearce in the process because you’d have to, eventually. So two birds with one stone, right? You get rid of a man causing problems for you and your lady friend, and Steve Matthews finally grabs some headlines that aren’t about how bad Alex Winter whipped his ass at We Are Relentless.”

He shakes his head, a sigh escaping him, “Green was a bad color on you, Steve. But not as bad as Yellow. You spineless, rotten coward. Choosing rot, disease, and filth over obscurity.”

He pauses, collecting himself. He looks up toward heaven, glasz eyes scanning the clouds for answers before his voice cuts through that symphony once more.

“I suppose in the end, Steve. It doesn’t matter.”

“And Neither do you.”

---

A W h i s p e r..

Matthew took a long drag off his cigarette, before turning it out in the ashtray of the Jaguar and blowing the smoke out of the cabin. He tapped his foot impatiently as he stared out the windshield, at the Hells Gate training facility in Grand Junction, Colorado. He had taken off in his Jaguar after getting Pearl home safe from all the crazy cult shit. Driven all night as the upcoming competition played in his mind. He’d get her finally, and teach her the lesson she had practically begged to learn when she surprised him the other night.

His face twisted into a sneer as he thought of her. Of the brazen stunt she pulled. Of the way she walked away, acting like she’d actually done something. Like she’d gotten into his head.

It insulted him.

He threw the door open, stepping out into the crisp, frigid air. In the dark of the moonless, overcast night he looked like a reaper come to claim someone’s unfortunate son or daughter. Long, pale and moving with an unearthly gate. His pale form seemed to glide around the jaguar, opening the trunk and producing his old, beaten up adidas gym bag.

He walked up to the door, giving it a test pull. Locked, as expected. With a cautionary glance, he located the nearest CCTV and paid it a broad, toothy grin. He waved in a friendly manner, before setting the Adidas bag down, and unzipping it. He produced a plastic shopping bag, and knelt as he set to his work.

As his long, pale fingers moved deftly with the admittedly immature task he had laid upon them, he let his mind wander to the incident with Kat, and then over the rest of their brief history with one another. Close enough to Steve Matthews, but in a different order. He had seen both of her faces speak. In person, on Twitter. Playing both sides of the fence.

He had extended a hand to her, cautioning what the other side would bring. Hoping that the face he had chosen was’t the mask. But, hours later she had gone above and beyond to prove him wrong. It was her, after all, who dealt the blow that landed Zephyr Quinn in the hospital for as long as she had been. Pomp and circumstance with a baseball bat, the night Kat Jones became a wild card.

And sealed her fate.

Then, it was weeks of taunts and barbs until it culminated the night after he had lost the match with JC and Amber. Waking up, feeling her weight upon him. The edge of the knife tracing his skin. Powerless, exactly where he hated to be. She had gotten under his skin, thankfully in a figurative manner, but she had overestimated the damage she caused.

Her sneer, when he challenged Alex.

She really thought she was in control.

Knox ran his fingers over the finishing touch of his latest bear poke. He stood up, pulling the gym bag with him. He let a smile crack his features as he looked over the handiwork that had carried him halfway across the country.

Three dog collars, three tags. The names Alex, Kat, and Cyrus etched into them proudly. A leash ran from each, dangling from the collars and the door handle like so many streamers. He reached into his bag once more, producing a bright red glassboard marker he wrote a message above the display.

Use These” - Foxy Knoxy

Now, he had invaded her home.

---

“You must have lost a lot, gutter rat. Or maybe you’re just lost”

The camera fades back in now, on the same pier. Except Knox has turned to face the camera now, and he was missing his shirt. He sat in the lotus position, eyes closed as the wind whipped at his hair and marched an army of goosebumps across his bare skin.

“Or, maybe they abandoned you. Because they could see how fucking awful you were destined to be.”

He bent his arms, resting his elbows on his knees and leaning forward, letting out a deep breath as he opened his eyes, glasz eyes piercing into the viewer’s. He shakes his head as he formulates his next musing.

“You certainly laid a lot at my feet during our recent discussion, Kat. A long winded pity story, if i’m being honest. All about the big, mean Raven and his friends not trusting you. Expounding all the reasons we should have, and blaming me for the bed you made. God, it stinks as bad as Matthews’ bullshit.”

Matthew shook his head, disappointed. His face remains emotionless, as he rotates his head in contemplation. The waves behind him crashed into one another, an ominous rumbling rang forth from the Baltimore sky. And slowly, the storm of a smirk broke across his lips.

“But people like you, people like Steve? Maybe even people like Cyrus, for all I know or care to know about him? Boring, weak people? You need a set of shoulders stronger than your own to lay your problems upon. You need a bad guy to point at. ‘Him, he’s the one. He made me this way. He’s why I do such awful things, fuck him’” This earned a roll of the eyes, and a shake of the head, “Pathetic, Kat. You are so fucking Pathetic and you know it. You know it, and it disgusts you far worse than it disgusts me.”

“You came into Carnage acting shady, playing coy, keeping everyone at arm’s length but trying to tempt them to come closer. It’s boring, Kat. It’s boring, and so are you. ‘I never said I was good’. Good people never do, you were given the benefit of the doubt like anyone else. But all you’ve done is disappoint. And not just on a personal level, no. No you’re pathetic at our sport, too Kat.”

He chuckles out loud then, white teeth fully bared as he almost doubled over with humor.

“How in the world are you going to start out 3-0, and then just lose, lose, lose, lose, LOSE?! Jesus, woman. Two opportunities at a title shot. Chaos, and Tag. And you Failed, you failed. The only person you’ve pinned, or defeated lately? Was a cardboard cut out. And the Legion cared more about the loss of a cut-out, than it did about you gaining an elimination.”

“A cardboard cutout, Kat. A cardboard cutout got more of a reaction in two seconds, than you have since you got here.” He shakes his head yet again, amused. “But who am I kidding? These kind of barbs, they don’t even annoy you, do they Kat? No, you’re shaking your head, dismissive. Because those losses, they don’t matter do they? Hell, does anything matter? I can never tell with you. When you’re in danger, you mock the danger. When you’re insulted? You brush it off.”

“Guess the gutter builds a pretty tough shell, don’t it Kat? See, I think it’s different. Not that what I think matters. Of course not, nothing does right? But, let me put it into the universe, anyway.”

Another roll of the eyes, face full of contempt and annoyance. He felt as if he was fighting a group of uncouth, petulant teenagers who had decided to rebel against their father this cycle. However, he was glad that not a one of them were his children.

Too bad, they were someone’s though.

“I think you're a scared little girl. Clinging to her invisible, irrelevant brother for support and looking for strength in a herd of sheep. You KNOW you’re not as good as me. You KNOW you’re not as good as any of my friends who rejected you. Just like you KNOW I'm not just talking about in a fight. No, you’re a shit person. You’re a shit fighter. You’re shit.”

He took a deep inhale, before letting the breath out and nodding, raising a hand to ask Kat, Cyrus, Steve, and the Legion for a second to calm himself and get composed. He opened his eyes, focusing on the lens. He spoke once more, tone calm but deathly serious.

“The niceties, this game we’ve been playing for so long? It was fun, Kat. I’ll never profess otherwise. But it’s over now. You crossed a line, trying to prove a point. And I toed one to tweak all the noses in your corner. I’m sure I'll be dismissed. Or threatened. But you’ll come to know, by the end of this match?”

“You’ll come to know, and understand...just how out of your depth you are.”

He contemplates for a moment, quietly. He allows himself one more chuckle, before speaking in a soft, almost comforting tone.

“A whisper in a windstorm.”

---

The V12 hummed as Matthew Knox pulled into Baltimore, Maryland after his cross country trek to pull a childish prank on a childish group of people. Did he regret it? Not really. The pandemic had made traffic lighter, and being in the wind? Away from a hotel room filled with vices? Probably the best thing for him. He took the exit for the inner harbor, paying the camera gear a glance as he did so.

However, he was snapped from his thoughts by the ringing of his phone. He dug it out of his pocket, answering and tapping the speaker button without checking the caller ID. Anyone who had this number? He’d want to talk to them whenever, anyway.

“This is Matt”

“Yo, Matt..”

The soft rasp of Bert McAlroy’s voice almost caused him to slam on the brakes. A mix of excitement and shame gripped his heart. He was silent for a beat, before snapping out of it and responding.

“Hey, Bert what’s up?”

Now, it was Bert’s turn to be silent for a beat. He audibly cleared his throat, before answering.

“I was just callin’ to check on you. Went by the hotel, but you weren’t there. Hope came by, said you were down after what happened-”

“I’m fucking sorry about tha-”

“Let me finish, man. “ Matthew fell silent then, listening to Bert draw in a breath. He pulled off to the side of the road, deciding that the last thing he wanted was distraction from these words, and the last thing Baltimore’s drivers would want were him to be distracted by them.

“I get that you process shit different, man. But...but it’s wrong, Matt. I know you probably heard this plenty but...that was so unnecessary. Even if the belt was on the line in that match, You are relevant here Matt! You’re still in line for a shot, fuck what Chris says or decrees--”

“What? What did Chris d-”

“I’m not done, yo! Come on!”

“My bad. Carry on, Bert.”

“Look man...short and sweet, I can’t do it again. I can’t deal with you if you crawl back in that hole. I got something here, I owe it to you like you owe your spot to JC. And i’ll always be thankful, Matt I will. But this circus? This mad shit you get into? You gotta moth ball it, man. Because I got something I can bury myself in, too. You get it?”

Matthew remained silent, a twinge in his heart strings pulling the corners of his mouth down in a frown. He took in a sharp breath, clearing his throat.

“I get it, Robert. I’m sorry. I..fuck, I can’t say it enough. I know it gets old fast, but it’s true. I fucked up, and if you need time, you got all of it. Because you’re right, you got something here now. You’ve found your calling, and you’re getting all the respect in the world for it. Ray wouldn’t put the kind of trust he has in you if you weren’t.” He paused, a smile forming.

“I know I’ve been so fucking locked up in my own world, but I been meaning to say that I’m proud of you, Bert. So fucking proud. And look, JC may have hired me? But you got me to Baltimore. Don’t ever undersell that. I love you, brother.”

A pause, quiet and then a response.

“I love you too, brother. Knock em dead. Stoked to see you team with Levi, and Sil again.”

The smile that formed over his face as he listened to his best friend, his little brother begin gushing about the first official match featuring “The Set” since We Are Relentless was the purest, happiest display of emotion he had allowed himself over the past month.

It felt right.

---

November 14th, 2020

I have no love in my heart for people who can’t accept their own accountability. I refuse to be the martyr for the ego of a fragile man or woman. I refuse to be the first win to a nameless face. I don’t give a shit who’s brother you are, who’s sister you are, who’s child you are. I will never, ever be your stepping stone.

Where my love lies? It’s with the hands who would lift my miserable ass up when it falls down. Silvio, Adrienne? These two were the first ones to lay a hand upon me that was free of malice. The first two of the set we’ve created. Mitch Heart? Our Heart? Somewhere between a younger brother, and the son i never had.

I realized, when i stumbled and I fell that I don’t want to be the hermit again. That I can’t take another step alone.

And then, it hit me that i am not alone.

To love, and be loved are the greatest gifts God blessed his children with. And in our small circle, our tiny set? There is more love, warmth, power and success than a hand full of Wild Cards.

And now, shoulder to shoulder, we stand against that hand. Against hypocrites. Against yet another cancer infecting our home. No, it’s not the old guard. In fact, most of them are newer than us. But these are the people who took up with a man who threatened my child, who sided with the man who would turn us fighters into indentured servants. Violent play thing he won’t pay a proper stipend.

And just like the last time we stood shoulder to shoulder..

They won’t survive.