Capable [Roulette 1]

[mattknox]

The camera fades into the interior of what appears to become a bastard amalgamation of a Gym and Dojo. Weights and training equipment grouped to one side of the massive open floor space while mats are set out neatly to the other side, and in the middle acting as a great divider stands a ring proudly, its ropes red white and blue in color. Painted on the face of one wall, or rather stenciled in, the words “CORVID COMBAT ACADEMY” proudly declare the purpose of the establishment.



“Culmination. It comes in a great deal many ways, doesn’t it?” from off camera, the velvety smoke-tinged montone of a voice rings out “Sometimes you just feel it, you just know you’ve accomplished something…but me? I like…having something I can touch. Something I can look at to prove that I did something.”



With nothing more than the soft sound of bare feet on tile floors, none other than Matthew Knox, “The Raven”, walks into the shot. He’s dressed in a black hooded sweatshirt and gray sweatpants, hands dug in his pockets and hair slicked back out of his face.



“This is the Corvid Combat Academy. A school I started to pass on everything I’ve learned in this industry to a new generation. Both the violence, and the bullshit. I started it, because the one guy I trained turned out to be a fucking phenom. So, I decided to see if it was a fluke. So far, Two World Champions, Two Tag Champions and a bunch of people with boosted confidence shows me that it was indeed not.”



He strides over to a wall covered in framed photos of these students and the gold they won. Bert McAlroy, Level up Final Boss Champion. Donny Mason, SWWS’ Gateway Evolve Title and ½ of Level Up’s Tag champs. Helena Handbasket, his own eldest daughter, one half of BWF’s Tag Champions. Ahmya, Level Up Wrestling’s Wisdom Champion.



As he stares up at the photos, a smile crosses his features. Warm, and proud as a father of his children.



“Those students, the accomplishments they have? They’re a part of my legacy. As tangible as my own titles, as tangible as this school And all that gold, all those changed lives..they’ve led me to believe that I am capable of more than I ever believed. Hell…standing here, now? Addressing all of you in this roulette match?”



He turns his gaze back to the camera, the warm smile melting into an arrogant smirk.



“I’m starting to believe that I am capable of damn near anything.”



He starts back to pacing the room, trailing his fingertips over equipment as he passes it.



“The press release mentioned how many people seem to want to fight me, and I will not deny that. It’s the absolute truth, hell it could be gospel if you slipped it in between Deuteronomy and Revelations. Knox 22:11 ‘And the Lord said, someone slap that loudmouth’ but no one could. Not hard enough to stop me..”



He stops, finding the camera once more. Arrogant smirk still present, adding to the list of reasons his face is such a popular destination for fists before he can give his own theory.



“Because, the reason everyone wants to fight me? It’s simple, really. It’s my belief in myself, in my capability to do damn near anything. To beat any-fucking-body that they set before me, and do it convincingly. Couple that with the inherent legacy of the titles I've carried and I make a damn impressive head for any wall, if you don’t mind my lack of modesty.”



A chuckle, as if it mattered whether they minded or not.



“I’m already lined up for a shot at Pax Stormcrow…but this? This is me finally pulling the trigger on something I neglected. See, months ago? There were rumors..rumblings of me coming to IWF. I considered it, had the contract before me..but I couldn’t bring myself to sign on the dotted line. Why, you ask?”



Now, his expression flattens out. He moves toward the ring, hopping up on the apron and staring into the camera, his voice somehow becoming flatter, while simultaneously dripping with venom and a touch of mirth.



“At that time…Ulf Heldner was your top guy. Biggest, shiniest belt. Pictures of him cosplaying a viking in a shitty wooden chair he pretended to be a throne. Whole 9 yards…and, Ulf? I’ve beaten Ulf. That punch that put so many of you down? I ate it for lunch and I put him down anyway…So it…really, it seemed like a waste of what time I have left, you know?”



A chuckle escapes him as he casts his gaze off to one side, seemingly asking himself the question more than anyone else.



“What purpose would it serve, what would it really mean in the legacy of Matt Knox to conquer a place that had been conquered by a man already conquered by me? Wouldn’t mean a damn thing.”



“Yet, here I am. In line for one title shot via open challenge, and ready to win this Roulette match simply because…again..I am capable of doing so. I am capable of defeating Pax and taking his TV title, so I will. I am capable of winning this Roulette match and defeating the petulant brat Wraith for the World Title…and So, I will.”



With each ‘so i will’ he adds a little more bass to his voice, eyes finding their way back to the viewer's. The opponents…



…The victim’s.



“This all sounds terribly arrogant, doesn’t it? Some 40 year old with a sketchy reputation just..out here burying the homegrown talent…but let me keep it simple. There are so many of you in this match. So many I have yet to address..”



He hops off the apron then, leaning in close to the camera and speaking in a hushed tone, almost a whisper..



“So, if you have an issue with anything I've said…”



“Do something. Stop me….you know..”



“If you’re capable.”