Valquist: The Glass Cube

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My name is Valquist. The current and third Visionaries World Champion.  Bound by an un-turning road which shelters all desires, thriving on the path of enlightenment, a world of black and white. I am no longer alone. Derrida, the sword to my shield, my brother, is once again sworn to my time of enlightenment. Together, the new standard bearer for the Visionaries has been set. There is no challenge, to mountain we will avoid. Our mission is simple. Become the first World Champion with meaning, with honour, with prestige. To ascend not just ourselves, but also the federation we entertain. I say to you, the set of eyes drawn to this path. To everyone that looks upwards or below. Show your worth, show Derrida that you’re more than what I know to be true. Only then will you find yourself worthy of your place at the table.

The sun once set on my un-turning road, but a new day has been cast. The Full Measures mantra is in full order, and we will accept nothing less.

Full Measures is a measure of our own worth. When our worth and value is tested, there is nothing, no odds that will overcome us. No greater value that will topple us. No force strong enough to dethrone us. No gods who can contain us.

I am The Valquist. His name is Derrida. This is a story of our world shattering.

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Chris McCarthy was not dreaming. His space was blank, his thoughts of nothing. A groggy feeling overcome him, he felt exhausted but uncomfortable. The last thing he could remember was going to sleep at home on his pillow, yet there was no pillow under his head. His neck ached and struggled to regain function, he then tried to move his fingers but he could only move the tips, they also felt sore and bruised. A few minutes later he began to muster the strength to raise his head, coughing violently until it properly awoke his mind to what was happening. His head planted on a glass table, his hands tied to the back of a chair rooted to the floor. This was not his home, this was not his bed, and this was terrifying.

“Ahh!” He screamed in panic. “Where am I?”

His eyes blurred they readjusted to his immediate surroundings. A lone figure was walking around four spotlights around the table, his steps made a crunching noise to his ears that irritated Chris greatly, every sense had been heightened and the primal fear of his situation getting the better of him. 

“You are safe.” The voice of the man retorted.

These words did not help Chris at all; it only made him more anxious. Stepping into full view with Chris still cocking his head to see where he was the figure came into full view and at first sight he instantly recognised who it was, but he still had no idea where he had been taken. 

“Valquist…” Chris said bemused, having seen the unspeakable form he harboured in the image of Isis Derrida.

“Chris.” The voice returned, unmistakably that of Isis’s and not Val’s.

“What is this?” He continued to yell, his voice scratch and throat dry.

The figure of Isis walked in front of the light; his silhouette was all that he could see.

“An intervention,” Isis revealed. “Your remarks have led you here, and there is no better time than the present to seek help for my friend.”

“Who is your friend?” Chris said startled, and he wasn’t done. “And what on earth has it got to do with me?!”

Isis did not respond immediately but instead moved closer to the table and into clear view, slamming down the Derrida Diary onto the centre of the table next to an object covered in a black blanket, he had no idea what it was but he didn’t overly care.

“Valquist, he needs my help.” Isis said.

Isis cut him off. “Looks are deceiving.” 

Chris realised this was the most fearful he had been of anyone he’d met, Valquist had deeply angered him the last time they saw each other and now he was trying to reach him through the alternative form. With no other options at hand Chris would play along with the charade, this wasn’t one of them times to be brave and reckless.

“He…Valquist, has not been right for some time. Who is to say that he can be helped in the first place?” Chris said honestly. 

“I fear my friend has lost his way on the unturning road. This mantle he has taken upon himself is going to cost him.” Isis said concerned.

Joining Chris at the table he sat down opposite him, hands crossed with eyes steely and constantly focused on the youngster who couldn’t hold his own star with him.

“And this concerns me why?” Chris said, indicating he would only cooperate with Isis if he would cooperate with him. 

Chris looked at Isis, or Valquist, he wasn’t sure which one he was actually talking to but with the effects of whatever he had done to him still in effect he pondered if what was happening was real.

“Ok, despite why you haven’t even apologised for bringing me here I will answer your questions. I may not understand why I am here but I will tell you honestly what I think, you have deserved that for all the wrong reasons.” Chris said, stuttering his words.

“I will not apologise.” Isis said unnerved, his apathy shining brighter than the lights surrounding them. 

Already venting about his capture, this only added to the long list of reasons why Chris had lost compassion for Valquist. Choosing to remain silent he only thought of ways he could get out of the chair and leave, twisting and wriggling his hand to see if he could break the ties that bound his hands.

“We are few days away from one of the biggest days in Val’s life, he has already walked through the night to find his way to becoming champion. He stands on the verge of sunrise where he will see if the day is as bright as first seemed, and if he can walk in its light.” Isis alluded to greater things for Val in the coming days.

“Armed and Dangerous is just as it is spoken for Val, he has grown dependent on having you there to provide the cutting edge, that fear factor which inspired him to success.” Chris replied.

“Do you think he can do it on his own?” Isis asked bluntly.

Chris didn’t even need a second to hesitate on his next answer. “No.” he said confidently.

“And why do you think that I am so crucial to his power?” Isis asked intently.

Isis remained totally calm; he could see that Chris was trembling in front of him and it was obvious by his lack of eye contact. 

“Everything I do may be questionable and immoral but in the jungle they always are. We must fight and protect our rights before others will deprive them of you. Valquist wants that, and I am that vessel to earn him that place in the kingdom.” Isis said.

“Valquist has split the opinion of many with his decision to align with such a being as yourself, he is pure and true and yet is now associated with corruption and brutality. Even his opposition believe there are cracks forming on the surface and they circle awaiting their chance to strike.” Chris spoke sadly about what Val had become. 

Isis lowered his head and began laughing. There was no explanation for this.

“Did I say something funny?” Chris asked confused.

“Val is not broken,” he continued to chuckle. “Val is at the tipping point.”

“Of what exactly?” Chris said, not reciprocating the humour Isis clearly found in his comments. 

“The route to enlightenment is only seen with open eyes, his are finally opening.” Isis said with a satisfied smile on his face, he was happy that Val was coming to terms with his own darkness.

“That smile is cruel.” Chris remarked with a bad taste in his mouth forming.

“Are you worried that Val might implode at the event and lose out to Casanova?” Chris asked.

“No,” Isis whispered. “Quite the opposite actually, English is an innocent bystander who is his own god and prophet, it is quite pathetic actually to consider his challenge as legitimate.”

This was a different side to Isis than the knee-driving explosion Val summoned him to be in the ring. Chris liked to think that at the core of this issue he was finally seeing what Val interpreted Isis as in real form when he didn’t have to finish off an opponent. Chris quickly figured out that he was not Isis’s opponent, no Val’s, he was something else entirely. 

He was a trusted ally.

Isis spoke poignantly and with grace, there was not a wasted word and he sounded more self-assured than Valquist ever did. Having come back to his full senses the help that Isis sought was different than original thought. Chris felt the achievement of breakthrough; he knew why he had been taken.

Isis didn’t have to acknowledge anything to Chris; he sat there without reply or action until Chris figured it out for himself.

“Caught between two minds you want me to help you complete Val’s transformation, your help is not to restore your friend but have him become you.” Chris revealed Isis’s plan.

Isis knew that the reality would shock Chris, and by reading the expression on his face it did.

“It has become evidently clear that Val must change, he is not committed to the original mantra of our purpose. We represented a willingness to be the exception to the rule, the exemplar of what is right and wrong. As you know we adorned the Full Measures name, it is finally the time he and I become a family.” Isis chillingly spoke to Chris. 

Not knowing what to say Chris could only look on at an adamant Isis who had advanced the theory that he had for the athlete. From everything that Chris watched and studied he’d only associated Isis Derrida with a ruthless empathy that extended to everyone; at first he assumed that Isis hated anything. The unsettling thing is that Valquist and Isis were portrayed as separate entities in a group; it was quickly forming into a union of like-minded individuals separated by their emotional maturity. Valquist was aspiring to be his mentor.

Isis stood up and grabbed the black blanket on the table, “Don’t lie to me.”

Pulling the blanket off the table he revealed what was hiding underneath it, discarding the blanket onto the floor he retreated back into the shadows where he could not be seen.

“We want the same thing you and I,” Isis continued. “Although you don’t see the necessity of it just yet you want what is best for Val. In a world otherwise filled with disappointment you care enough about him to see that he must tip in the proper direction. That is why I am showing you our most treasured possession.”

Sitting dead centre of the table was a glass cube of perfect symmetry ten inches wide and tall. The glass was warped and bent the light hitting it into many dazzling colours that shone brightly. At the centre of the cube appeared to be an object of dark grey substance, its shape and true form hidden by the warped glass, underneath the many layers it was unidentifiable. Chris moved his head to get a better look but all this did was change the shape of the object within.

“What does it do?” Asked Chris, his curiosity mesmerised by the light refracting from the many layers obscuring the object it hid inside.

“Nothing. Priceless to its owner, it otherwise had no value to those who cannot comprehend its reason for existence.” Isis said, this time from behind Chris.

Isis returned from the shadows to stand directly over Chris who sweat profusely, nervous and paranoid. 

“The glass cube represents my reality. Presented to me by an old friend at Infinity it has been handed down from warrior to warrior. First it belonged to The Copycat Kid who passed it down to Aaron Destiny, after Aaron disappeared TCK reclaimed it and when I joined Infinity it was handed to me. None of its holders have ever wanted to break it, every day there is the temptation to smash it to a thousand shards and find out what was taunting me.” Isis told Chris, his voice now frustrated and in deep thought.

“So, nobody knows what is inside.” Chris assumed.

“No, this helps you understand Valquist. He has seen it before. He knows what it means. He me helped to understand why it is so important to us.” Isis said.

“Val is your friend, you want him to succeed and the kicker is that you’d stop him on the next stage of his journey if you could help Val return to the person he was before he assumed my form.” Isis labelled Chris as part of the problem. 

Derrida slid the diary right in front of him, undoing the restraint on one of his hands. Chris felt his skin, it felt real and warm, there were no illusions by this sensation that left goosebumps crawling up his spine. 

Infinity has brought me into contact with individuals of extreme character, but none more so than TCK, The Copycat Kid. After watching me in my first match he met me after the show at my home and presented me with a gift, a strange glass cube. For two days now I have looked into it and saw no clear image of the object, it toys with me; it knows it cannot be judged. When I asked TCK why he gave me the cube he told me that it belonged to someone who sought perfection. The object is warped and imperfect, but the meaning behind it is much more beautiful when you begin to think it through. 

TCK called me unique, he knew that I acted with controlled empathy towards all people from all walks, he connected to me through a shared belief that kindness can derive from even the most unspeakable forms of callousness. This Infinity Chairman confessed his fears that I was not the same normal and functioning man from three years ago, the cube was meant to give me perspective and work myself out. After telling me its history I wanted to understand its meaning, instead I began to understand it, but not why it mattered. My search for enlightenment would continue.

One week has passed to the day that TCK handed the glass cube. It sits there on my living room table an entity of its own. All my guests couldn’t stop talking about it if I had them over, it was a talking point because anyone wanted to guess as to what was in the middle of the cube. Each person had their wild theories, none of them made sense to me as I viewed it as an invitation to challenge the perception of its purpose. At this very moment it felt like it was designed to make me want to break it, it was inviting me to destroy it and laugh triumphantly in my victory, and each time I held it in my hand I felt the urge to drop it and examine the pieces on my living room floor. No matter how hard I wanted to, I accepted the invitation to try harder and not concede to its taunts. This was no coffee table ornament; this was a mystery I sought to unravel. 

I had to show Valquist this cube; days of meditation and contemplation had only complicated the matter of this meaning of the cube. The mystery alone was testing my patience, and knowing Val and his own limits to patience I thought of all the people he would help me crack its puzzle. At first he seemed not too interested, he’d seen how obsessed I had turned into figuring it out and he reached out to me to let me know that my perspective was wrong. Val took it from me for a few days, and to see him at my doorstep it was clear he had not slept well the last two nights. To the day I die I will remember what he told me, and why he thought TCK presented this to me in the first place. Val and I both agreed the cube was viewed differently by any beholder; there would always be debate over its nature, shape, purpose, and meaning. The reality Val shared with me was much more daunting, that all men are obsessed with solutions and answers to the problems we face. Val viewed the cube as a problem to solve, not a search for clues. The problem he recognised was that you never could identify with the cube even if you could touch it, hold it, and see it. All along the cube was anything you wanted it to be in any form, it was an unsolvable problem. No words could deform it, no person could decode it. 

That night Val crashed at my apartment because he was not in a fit state to drive home. He had shown me the truth…the cube was an exemplar, what anyone wanted to ever be. The two of us were spent trying to figure it out; it was perfect because it was unique. It was unknown. Since that day I strived for that power, so did Val, it was our mantra, our symbol.

Speaking so passionately this was Isis Derrida speaking from the heart, the wellbeing and future of his friend his only thoughts. Chris felt guilty and torn as to what he wanted to believe, the image of the cube in front of him consolidated in his mind his own thoughts of Valquist…did he even know who he was anymore, was he even his friend?

“Never, ever, did I want to aid indoctrination. Yet, your mind is concluded Isis. There seems to be a direction taken, and a direction avoided. I know you’re going to tell me anyway, so just get to it already.” Chris sounded defeated in his struggle to contemplate Isis.

“Val returns to who he was, he will struggle and toil, he will retain his values and principles as both a warrior and man, but it will hinder him and become his end.” Isis opened. 

Chris contemplated this option, and with all the facts at hand he understood where Isis was coming from.

“And the other side…” Chris prompted Isis to reveal the option his friend sought.

“Is this what you want?” Chris asked, his voice tinged with indecision.

The feeling that this choice was his sunk in, the eyes staring at him was looking for approval. For now Chris McCarthy was not an opponent, he was an obstacle for Val to move forward with his plan. That could quickly change with anything he said.

“That is all I ever wanted. Val is my friend, and he sees me as his biggest obstacle to overcome…not this timid Casanova English. Val is the essence of this cube and its shapeless form. He fights against me, the image he sees is not of Casanova it is me, it succumbs him and he is consumed. I just hope he will one day be exhumed and infused to his true potential.” Talking as he re-entered the spotlights he took a deep breathe, he had reduced Chris down to a wreck by facing him with the cube. 

Leaning over the table he reached the glass cube and touched it, it was smooth and heavy to touch; this explained so much about Valquist knowing that he had been conditioned by the mind of a pathological revolutionist called Isis Derrida. Val looked up to his mentor and friend as a hero and symbol, even as dark and as cruel as he presented himself. 

Isis had one last thing to add, but before he did he took the cube and diary from the reach of Chris, he held both under one arm.

Stunned and silenced by the poetic and charged Isis Derrida the shell-shocked Chris McCarthy took one last look at the cube, the exemplar of Full Measures. Before he left, Isis turned off the four spotlights and retreated back into the darkness he was most comfortable. As he heard the sounds of his cluttering shoes depart the building he heard an echo of Derrida’s voice, it would leave a lasting impression on the traumatized Chris McCarthy.