Post by Valquist on Sept 20, 2015 14:59:53 GMT -6
Infinity City, Paradise district.
Paradise at Night: Heavenly Rock Hour
20th September 2015
Staring upwards through a glass ceiling, towards a starlit night in Infinity, the Visionaries World Champion, Valquist, enjoyed the tranquil rock hour of Paradise’s lead alternative radio station. Sitting backwards a visible moon cascaded innocent, white light on Val’s light brown skin. With a set of headphones covering his ears, Val was lost to his surroundings, enjoying the company of Mother Nature. Gently rubbing the leather base of the world belt, he hears some soothing words in his ears.
“We’re live in one, Val,” the calming elderly voice repeats.
Val sits upright, and the voice he heard is a gentleman, also with black headphones on. Val sees his reflection in a scratched and black desk, with only a disconnected tablet computer in the way. The two chilled personas of Val and the unidentified radio presenter persists until time is called by an off-set director, at which time the jet white hair of the radio host is visible in the night lit sky.
“To all listeners, worldwide, and in our fair but infinite home, we salute you for your taste and your belonging. It’s your host, Jermaine Athonis, here with a strong set of arms. Not just big, but given light of his conquests across the vast ocean shores, a hero to our people. Our World Champion, Valquist.”
“Here’s hoping that the word grows old on me,” Val says, implying a lengthy title reign.
“The stars of our skies grace us both with much reason to look forward. Before we get back into the sounds of the sky, let’s talk about the war of tomorrow. Val, you’ve specified to me and my audience that we’ve got one question, and one question only to ask.”
“Each Infinite district gets one,” Val illuminates.
“Look upwards, and tell me how many stars you see,” Jermaine asks.
“I see thousands, but I also see the value in joining constellations, not separating them. I am a man of full measures, but also a man of fairness. Equal weight for equal parties.”
“No star is the same size,” Jermaine states. “No person the same.”
“To entertain this philosophical thought, no man is built from birth on a podium. We exit the same we come into this world. All that remains is a legacy, a memory. A memory forever lost to its holder.”
“So my question is this. You are a wrestler, a man of the arts. A man that leads with an eye of entertainment, but also a man that leads his expression through violent acts. Men breed as such do not squirm at the sight of blood or twisted limbs, you embrace its significance. You and countless others are admired for their devotion to perfection, as role models, but as fighters first. Snakes try to poison the pure, and politics rules the farmyard. The greater herds try to trample those who stray from the mould. Just like each star in the sky, you spend your one lifetime trying to be, as you say so often, the first and last you. Every wrestler scrambles for uniqueness, an identification that is personal, yet oddly relatable and public. You informed me that you’ll be wrestling this Sunday, against another whom the masses believe is at the pinnacle of your federation, VOW. Your memory, your legacy, your everything. Will these stars smile on your achievements, or will humanity stain them? In particular, in light of the revelation, where do you stand on the spectrum?”
Valquist
“I kind of wish humans would abandon rating people based purely off of a criteria. I am judged on my words and my actions, and now as a champion, there is a greater expectation from those around me, in the federation, to be the spokesperson of the federation. I’ve not hit that point yet, of a general consensus. This guy I’m facing, Casanova English, he’s run the length of the track over and over. He’s a veteran with a bad taste in his mouth, most likely because people so often become products of their own design. In this case, as it is with me, longevity inside the squared circle. Wrestlers are often scarred people. We are often lonely, sat behind a computer, or a piece of gym equipment, figuring out what it is we’re going to be doing and saying. Every show has to be unique, every word has to be different, even if the point is the same. Every story has to be different, and we have to stretch to find so many different ways to please an audience that has seen it all.
I sit before the sum of such expectation. For a champion to rise to the occasion. For this champion to make the most of each press opportunity. But tonight, I don’t see it as that. If I had long hair, it’d all have fallen out by now if I’d ever have dared take this seriously. The people of Infinity have learnt very hard lessons of what happens when the red we see absorbs the life around us. Instead of living in the misery that often surrounds, I'd rather relax with a new friend. So yes, I’m here because of the demand to make something of this, but begrudgingly so. It’s not in my taste to spend every waking second condoning the idea that this gold title should suck the life from your veins. I’m not seen as the main bread winner at VOW because of this guy, English. He is very much the favourite for this match if you let public opinion dictate the scale of conversation. Even with the gold on my lap in Paradise, here with you, they see a man like that as a true champion, even if every aspect of his humanity is scratched and mutated. So my concern is not with then, and the people of yesterday, but for the war of tomorrow. I'll never make it if I'm anything other than myself.
My main objective is to defend this, the only man ever to do so. But to defend it as if this gold plate was mine, and not the trademark of a company. Wrestlers rise and fall very quickly, but that’s not my speed. Not that I’ve attained the title, anyway. My only legacy will be the one future generations adorn. Of Valquist, the valiant Visionaries World Champion.
Valquist wants to be known as the pillar of excellence. Derrida wants to be forever known as the guard protecting the gate of such standards. These methods have been applauded by those in the wrestling sphere of influence, but to those closest, they have despised my actions. Isis shows everybody the cruelty of reality, but unfortunately not everybody shares this stance. Many are comfortable living in their false idyllic delusions. I may bring forth my own version, but not once have I lied about my intention, or have strayed from a path of honesty.
I’ll fade myself out with a preaching message. Don’t let a cold hand define your imprint, or any such legacy. We are but a blip of time within history. I know that this belt will not last with me forever, and that my time in the ring is nearing its sunset. Let your pocket of history be a reflection that is familiar, and not one that is lost to your own eyes. I live by my brother’s mantra, even if his projection is hollow. I owe this city and its people nothing, just as you owe my the same, but I promise my sunset has yet to cast a shadow.”
Jermaine.
“With wise vibrations filling our airwaves tonight, let’s ease ourselves back into the groove of the night. Many thanks to my friend, Valquist, for taking the time to make this quiet night one to reflect upon as you lay your heads to rest.”
_______________
Valquist.
VOW: War of Tomorrow (Part One: Paradise)
Twitter: @thevalquist
