Post by Matt Knox on Apr 24, 2024 20:30:31 GMT -5
The silence was deafening.
Even in the middle of the crowded room, his senses were numb. All of his attention staring at the greatest foe he’d ever come across.
The blank document.
Matthew breathed in once, reaching for the green tea on the table before him and taking a sip as if it might fuel the one last pickled neuron and will it to drive his muse into action. He was already behind on the new, last episode of Gumshoe and lord knew that getting Amber to participate was gonna eat up half the time he had left.
He reached up, plucking the glasses from his face and tossing them to the keyboard before him to clatter upon the surface. He pinched the bride of his nose, a tired sigh escaping him only to be cut short as he sucked in air from the jolt of pain in his side. He reached over, brushing his fingers over the tender spot as if they would be any sort of salve.
“Damn Rogues…” He muttered, the ghost of their inevitable betrayal gnawing at his flesh and muscle. Story of his life. Carry some ungrateful jackass to levels of relevance and notoriety they’d never dare dream only to be cut off at the knees.
He scoffed at himself. Okay, maybe it hadn’t beent hat much, but he’d carried their team to victory and had done so honestly. Suppose that was his fault for trusting Rogues.
At least there was comfort in knowing he’d get his shot at one of them again, before sharing both their carcasses with the lioness that was his partner.
A familiar, icy warmth gripped him at the thought of her that he soon shoved back into the deep recesses of wherever he stored everything he kept buried. Forcing his attention back to the screen,he found no treasure and only the familiar sight of a tree he’d passed already in the dense forest of this writer’s block.
Matthew's gaze wandered across the room, his internal monologue drowned out by the hum of idle chatter. He was about to reattempt another assault on the blank document before him when a voice cut through the din.
"Excuse me, aren't you Matthew Knox? From Gumshoe?"
Startled, he looked up into the inquisitive eyes of a woman whose face did not immediately register in his memory. She was clutching her phone, likely with episodes of the series just a few taps away.
"Guity as charged," he replied, his surprise evident. It was not often that his web series overshadowed his in-ring work.
"I've just binged the latest season. Your portrayal is phenomenal, and the cliffhangers are killing me!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm genuine.
Matthew felt a small, unexpected swell of pride. "Thank you. It's always nice to meet a fan of the series."
They chatted for a moment, exchanging theories and insights into the series' twisting plotlines and enigmatic characters. It was a brief but welcome distraction from the relentless pressure of his creative block.
"You know," he confessed with a half-hearted chuckle, "I'm actually supposed to be working on the script for the new episode right now. It seems my creativity has decided to take a detour."
"Oh, don't say that. Every creator hits a wall now and then," she reassured him with a sympathetic smile. "You'll find your way. The show's too good to leave us hanging."
Her words were a small balm to his frayed nerves. He was about to thank her when his phone buzzed in his pocket, jarring him from the conversation. He glanced at the caller ID—it was Amber.
"Excuse me, I need to take this," he said, standing up.
"Of course, go ahead. And hang in there, the inspiration will come," she called after him as he stepped away to answer the call.
Matthew walked off, his voice trailing behind him as he began the conversation. The woman watched him go, a thoughtful look on her face. She reached into her purse, pulling out her own phone. Her fingers danced over the screen, composing a text message with a cryptic air of significance.
"Yeah, it's him."
She hit send and slipped the phone back into her purse, her eyes lingering on Matthew's retreating figure for a moment longer before she too disappeared into the crowd.
“You know, sometimes even -I- get tired of this crap sometimes.
There was a time where that ‘Crap’ would have been the man standing besie me for this plumbing problem but no, Larry Tact might be the easiest-to-digest part of this whole fudging debacle”
The camera comes on to reveal a barren movie set, equipment lined against the wall neatly waiting to be rolled back out as needed. Set pieces covered in tarps to keep the dust off of them and in the middle of it all, seated in a director’s chair, is Matthew Knox.
“I’ve been told, ad nauseum, that I hide behind the films I make. That you don’t see enough of the REAL me anymore…” He trails off, brow furrowing “I can’t help but wonder, why you care so much though? Or rather, I couldn’t because it dawned on me just earlier today….You don’t want to see more of me, you want to see less of you.”
He snaps his fingers, a spotlight comes to life just as the rest of the lights go out, it’s shined right upon him.
“This heat….that I endure? It melts people like you, Maxwell. Or is it 999 again? I can’t really keep track with whats in my rear view mirror, or the office below mine these days you see. You beat JMont, which was nice. Then you carried me on your shoulder in the same night. Right beside the man you now seem to want dead…
Fickle, Fickle, Fickle…” he ‘tsks’ at the camera as the lights fade back in and the spotlight turns off. He leans back into the chair, steepling his fingers beneath his nose and letting out another breath, this one hitches though as a hand drops to his ribs. His eyes narrow, finding the camera as the lights around him shift to a deep red.
“Uknown….God….You just keep dodging bullets, don’t you? I ask for you one on one, they put you on my team and set you and Jeremy up for the cheap shot and now they give you a partner who’s so desparate for the attention of any and everyone that you might just be able to duck and weave enough to evade any real injury…
You have a CHANCE right now, Unknown.
A chance to breathe just a little bit longer.”
He rises from the chair slowly, the lights fading save for those directly over him. The spotlight returns, now in an orange hue that just adds to the hellish aesthetic.
“Retromania is a breath away, a breath you and Jeremy feel on the back of your neck every waking moment now. Its inevitable, whats going to happen at Retromania. Inevitable as the fate of all Rogues.
Inevitable as Me.
I am Raze.
I am Ruin.
I am The Raven.
Undeniably….
Inevitably….
Him.”
The night had cloaked the city in its inky shroud as Matthew Knox made his way back to his apartment. The street lights cast long shadows on the pavement, giving the quiet neighborhood a haunting glow. Unbeknownst to him, a car idled at the far end of the street, its engine purring softly, its headlights dark.
Inside the car sat a mysterious figure, features obscured by the dim dashboard light. Their eyes never left Matthew as he walked, the faintest hint of a smile playing on their lips. Next to the figure, a companion shifted uneasily in the passenger seat, their gaze flickering between Matthew and the enigmatic profile of their associate.
"Why don't we just grab him now?" the companion whispered, a sense of urgency in their voice.
The figure raised a hand, signaling for patience. "We can't take him without the girl," they responded, their voice low and calm. "They're a package deal. Besides, the timing isn't right."
"But he's right there," the companion insisted, a note of frustration seeping through.
The figure turned, their eyes locking onto those of their companion, a serious intensity within them. "If we move too soon, we risk everything. The girl is the key. He won't go quietly without her. We need them both, and we need them to come willingly. It's the only way this works."
The companion fell silent, subdued by the resolute certainty in the figure's tone. They watched as Matthew reached the entrance to his apartment building. He paused for a moment, a frown creasing his brow as if sensing something amiss. Then, he entered the building, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
The figure in the car leaned back, their eyes never leaving the apartment's entrance. "We'll wait," they murmured. "Our time will come."
Even in the middle of the crowded room, his senses were numb. All of his attention staring at the greatest foe he’d ever come across.
The blank document.
Matthew breathed in once, reaching for the green tea on the table before him and taking a sip as if it might fuel the one last pickled neuron and will it to drive his muse into action. He was already behind on the new, last episode of Gumshoe and lord knew that getting Amber to participate was gonna eat up half the time he had left.
He reached up, plucking the glasses from his face and tossing them to the keyboard before him to clatter upon the surface. He pinched the bride of his nose, a tired sigh escaping him only to be cut short as he sucked in air from the jolt of pain in his side. He reached over, brushing his fingers over the tender spot as if they would be any sort of salve.
“Damn Rogues…” He muttered, the ghost of their inevitable betrayal gnawing at his flesh and muscle. Story of his life. Carry some ungrateful jackass to levels of relevance and notoriety they’d never dare dream only to be cut off at the knees.
He scoffed at himself. Okay, maybe it hadn’t beent hat much, but he’d carried their team to victory and had done so honestly. Suppose that was his fault for trusting Rogues.
At least there was comfort in knowing he’d get his shot at one of them again, before sharing both their carcasses with the lioness that was his partner.
A familiar, icy warmth gripped him at the thought of her that he soon shoved back into the deep recesses of wherever he stored everything he kept buried. Forcing his attention back to the screen,he found no treasure and only the familiar sight of a tree he’d passed already in the dense forest of this writer’s block.
Matthew's gaze wandered across the room, his internal monologue drowned out by the hum of idle chatter. He was about to reattempt another assault on the blank document before him when a voice cut through the din.
"Excuse me, aren't you Matthew Knox? From Gumshoe?"
Startled, he looked up into the inquisitive eyes of a woman whose face did not immediately register in his memory. She was clutching her phone, likely with episodes of the series just a few taps away.
"Guity as charged," he replied, his surprise evident. It was not often that his web series overshadowed his in-ring work.
"I've just binged the latest season. Your portrayal is phenomenal, and the cliffhangers are killing me!" she exclaimed, her enthusiasm genuine.
Matthew felt a small, unexpected swell of pride. "Thank you. It's always nice to meet a fan of the series."
They chatted for a moment, exchanging theories and insights into the series' twisting plotlines and enigmatic characters. It was a brief but welcome distraction from the relentless pressure of his creative block.
"You know," he confessed with a half-hearted chuckle, "I'm actually supposed to be working on the script for the new episode right now. It seems my creativity has decided to take a detour."
"Oh, don't say that. Every creator hits a wall now and then," she reassured him with a sympathetic smile. "You'll find your way. The show's too good to leave us hanging."
Her words were a small balm to his frayed nerves. He was about to thank her when his phone buzzed in his pocket, jarring him from the conversation. He glanced at the caller ID—it was Amber.
"Excuse me, I need to take this," he said, standing up.
"Of course, go ahead. And hang in there, the inspiration will come," she called after him as he stepped away to answer the call.
Matthew walked off, his voice trailing behind him as he began the conversation. The woman watched him go, a thoughtful look on her face. She reached into her purse, pulling out her own phone. Her fingers danced over the screen, composing a text message with a cryptic air of significance.
"Yeah, it's him."
She hit send and slipped the phone back into her purse, her eyes lingering on Matthew's retreating figure for a moment longer before she too disappeared into the crowd.
“You know, sometimes even -I- get tired of this crap sometimes.
There was a time where that ‘Crap’ would have been the man standing besie me for this plumbing problem but no, Larry Tact might be the easiest-to-digest part of this whole fudging debacle”
The camera comes on to reveal a barren movie set, equipment lined against the wall neatly waiting to be rolled back out as needed. Set pieces covered in tarps to keep the dust off of them and in the middle of it all, seated in a director’s chair, is Matthew Knox.
“I’ve been told, ad nauseum, that I hide behind the films I make. That you don’t see enough of the REAL me anymore…” He trails off, brow furrowing “I can’t help but wonder, why you care so much though? Or rather, I couldn’t because it dawned on me just earlier today….You don’t want to see more of me, you want to see less of you.”
He snaps his fingers, a spotlight comes to life just as the rest of the lights go out, it’s shined right upon him.
“This heat….that I endure? It melts people like you, Maxwell. Or is it 999 again? I can’t really keep track with whats in my rear view mirror, or the office below mine these days you see. You beat JMont, which was nice. Then you carried me on your shoulder in the same night. Right beside the man you now seem to want dead…
Fickle, Fickle, Fickle…” he ‘tsks’ at the camera as the lights fade back in and the spotlight turns off. He leans back into the chair, steepling his fingers beneath his nose and letting out another breath, this one hitches though as a hand drops to his ribs. His eyes narrow, finding the camera as the lights around him shift to a deep red.
“Uknown….God….You just keep dodging bullets, don’t you? I ask for you one on one, they put you on my team and set you and Jeremy up for the cheap shot and now they give you a partner who’s so desparate for the attention of any and everyone that you might just be able to duck and weave enough to evade any real injury…
You have a CHANCE right now, Unknown.
A chance to breathe just a little bit longer.”
He rises from the chair slowly, the lights fading save for those directly over him. The spotlight returns, now in an orange hue that just adds to the hellish aesthetic.
“Retromania is a breath away, a breath you and Jeremy feel on the back of your neck every waking moment now. Its inevitable, whats going to happen at Retromania. Inevitable as the fate of all Rogues.
Inevitable as Me.
I am Raze.
I am Ruin.
I am The Raven.
Undeniably….
Inevitably….
Him.”
The night had cloaked the city in its inky shroud as Matthew Knox made his way back to his apartment. The street lights cast long shadows on the pavement, giving the quiet neighborhood a haunting glow. Unbeknownst to him, a car idled at the far end of the street, its engine purring softly, its headlights dark.
Inside the car sat a mysterious figure, features obscured by the dim dashboard light. Their eyes never left Matthew as he walked, the faintest hint of a smile playing on their lips. Next to the figure, a companion shifted uneasily in the passenger seat, their gaze flickering between Matthew and the enigmatic profile of their associate.
"Why don't we just grab him now?" the companion whispered, a sense of urgency in their voice.
The figure raised a hand, signaling for patience. "We can't take him without the girl," they responded, their voice low and calm. "They're a package deal. Besides, the timing isn't right."
"But he's right there," the companion insisted, a note of frustration seeping through.
The figure turned, their eyes locking onto those of their companion, a serious intensity within them. "If we move too soon, we risk everything. The girl is the key. He won't go quietly without her. We need them both, and we need them to come willingly. It's the only way this works."
The companion fell silent, subdued by the resolute certainty in the figure's tone. They watched as Matthew reached the entrance to his apartment building. He paused for a moment, a frown creasing his brow as if sensing something amiss. Then, he entered the building, the door closing behind him with a soft click.
The figure in the car leaned back, their eyes never leaving the apartment's entrance. "We'll wait," they murmured. "Our time will come."