Valquist: Creation

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When you live standing opposite a sword, there's a day when we all fall and feel the sharp slice rip through flesh. We all die in its image.

Death though was only the beginning. A long road of penance and perseverance waits, without the guarantee of rebirth. In defining moments remembered or forgotten when we are tested to our absolute limit, eventually toppling and conceding under the weight of our actions, the trueness of man unveils.

What must be asked is what you see beyond the veil of our buried horizon. The mantle was born to honour the actions of the valiant past, and ultimately, to eclipse and prosper. To see the good in all men, to stay rooted in the right light. Reclamation of the Infinite vision.

A new Valquist rises, and there is only one requirement. No half measures.

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Surrounded by the four squares of a wrestling ring, Chris McCarthy is running the ropes, with continued rapid speed, and on this occasion is believed to be alone. Turning back and forth, springing his ached back against the white ropes, the journalist turned real-life wrestler endures minutes of intense and gruelling sprints, causing his lungs and heavy feet to feel like they are on fire. Beyond the ring, Chris had lost focus of the surrounding training hall he occupied in the early hours of the morning, working alone so suspicions over his involvement with the Valquist were kept at bay. The optic lighting shone brightly on the ring alone, leaving TCK’s arrival as a blind arrival to the newly returned Visionary. Looking up to the ring, seeing Chris sweat through his navy blue vest and black Nike running shorts, the black suit wearing Copycat springs up to the top of the ring ropes, leaning and bobbling up and down as Chris’s runs cause vibrations each time he is slung against the ropes. Eventually slowing, Chris’s heavy breathing cools as he looks TCK dead in the eye, but without talking for a minute, creating a deliberate awkwardness between the pair.

“Friends don’t abandon each other in foreign countries,” Chris opens, reciting recent memory the group had invading an Infinity Wrestling show. “I thought you were here to help me blossom and prosper.”

“Then there was no better place than to confront your fears,” TCK replies. “No better avenue for improvement. Occasionally we all need that real fear, the skip of a heartbeat professional athletes get when thrown to the wolves.”

“So your plan was to watch me get mauled?” Chris echoes, still short of breath, pacing around the ringside area.

“I can’t condone my actions, vanishing amongst the chaos, but my presence was there. It’s not everyday somebody can identify a wolf in sheep’s clothing. My only option given our circumstance was to disappear.”

Chris rolled out of the ring, reaching for a bottle of still, clear water. Drenching his drying body and wetting his lips, an agitated Chris tried to convey calmness, but in TCK’s presence, the King of Character quickly picks up on boiled animation that his trainee struggled to handle unless opening his mouth.

“They knew me by name. What else do they know?” Chris asks, lost for answers.

“No place, no person, and no one man, can contain The Valquist. Not his name, not his image. We are solely responsible, as a team, to ensure that the message of enlightenment, the voice of good, stayed the same, and that was not conveyed. Your fear as Chris McCarthy transcended the pillars built by Valquist and Derrida. Now, not only does Infinity believe you to be alive, they know who we are, and believe us to side with darkened intent. Perhaps more worryingly, they believe the name to be their property, and will desecrate any other incarnation, just as Derrida forewarned. We to them are villains, not willing or strong enough to fight the likes of a Jingshen or a Legion.”

Chris’s frustrations were eased, with the Copycat glaring at a slowing heartrate and a calming chest. In this moment of reflection, TCK was best poised to teach Chris a lesson, in another attempt to humanise and humble the young fighter.

“In Mexico we were so concerned with the name, we forgot to honour it. Instead of taking to the fight, and proving to an infinite audience our capabilities, we drew the heat from the sun, and played our hand before the deck was shuffled, and because of it looked burnt in the public eye. That’s what happens when you hunt in the lair of a predator, one versed in your annihilation, without expecting them to be looking for you in the shadows. A man like Valquist, I believe his intentions are to ultimately aid our cause, but if he is not alone in his planning, the cause of history can always change. The last thing any of us need is Val to appear from his grave, for real, to reclaim what you have.”

Chris took a moment away from TCK, and into the dark swallows on the gymnasium, heaped with fear in his chest. TCK knew this, but moved to sit on the ring apron, relaxing himself.

“The only war worth a dime to the world you inhabit is the grapple between Valquist and Derrida. Val must have introduced you to his internal struggled to contextualise Derrida when the man himself removed himself from sight and mind. Val manifested what he saw as the absolute truth, that his friend, his brother, was the monster veiled by a world of dangerous elements, that would capitalise on Val’s failures. If Val’s message was ultimately lost, and his path exhausted, Derrida’s own path of brutality would uphold their beliefs, but at a mental cost to the man who was ultimately responsible.”

TCK sees Chris open up a metal chair, scratching the bottom to fix it into a natural shape. Chris sits head down, drying his wet, frizzy hair with a white towel.

“What do you think will happen if you fail Derrida?” TCK furthers. “In this world, there’s always a contingency, always another person made to fill the boots. Wrestling never stands still, and only devours those who go against its grain of existence. It’s all well and good having won three matches in a row, but if the day arises and you’re a defeated man, has it crossed your mind the reality of a new day in which Derrida appears to correct your path?”

“That’s why I must move forward, always.” Chris says, reflecting, his black skin shivering in the continued cold of the night. “Not after the last Breakthrough, when he attacked me in the locker-room, claiming I was not a true representation of Val, and taking the identity for his own against Patrick Jones.”

“Chris, you simply can’t keep walk the path, believing each day will be another walkover. We’ve fought around the world getting you for moments such as these. Moments, like at Armed and Dangerous, where Ambrose will provide a genuine struggle, if you allow it. Mexico has braced us for the wider reality, and a larger concern, that this world is simply not dictated. The only way to truly ensure that your hand is raised at the end of each bout, and to have clout over your desire to be World Champion, is to get up, grit those white teeth of yours, and get back to the grind until you fall, blue in the face.”

TCK gets up, saunters over to Chris and offers out a hand. Chris is hoisted up to his feet as the pair walk back towards the elevated ring.

“The only route to success this time is a killer focus, and a continuation of what Valquist has achieved in the ring. Forget the occasion, the theme, and all the names. You want to move forward, great. Use that fear to hone your focus.

“I’ve been here all night,” Chris says, half objecting. “My legs are already shredded.”

“We’re not leaving, not until you see this face on his back, wishing for the grave that Val was once buried in.”

Chris turns around having got in the ring, seeing that TCK had transformed himself into the appearance of Tristan Ambrose. The near six feet frame of Ambrose rolled into the ring, poised to attack. Chris wasn’t wearing the technology required to transform into Valquist, so stayed as his natural form. Taking off a wet shirt, exposing a lean and muscular physique, Chris backs off into his corner of the ring, swivelling to meet his opponent in the eye. Ambrose was dead in McCarthy’s eyesight. Ambrose charged ahead, with Chris pausing for breath, already exhausted. Losing his smile, Chris simply focused, continuing his path of enlightenment.

Should these words ever reach the public eye, then all will be revealed of who I once was, and the man I became. Gifted an opportunity to travel the world with a World Champion, The Valquist, my very existence changed. A rapid rise and a quick demise saw one Valquist eventually buried alive by the wrestling federation that had grown fond to his heart, but it would not be the end for the famed name. Val and his brother Isis, they both kept diaries detailing their lives in professional wrestling, and I will be no different. This is a story of finding purpose and continuing a great legacy, and adorning the principles of Full Measures. These words once belonged just to me, but now they belong to all of you.

I’ve been sitting here for some time now, just tapping the tip of this pen against clear white paper, mustering up what to ideally say about the return of The Valquist. Kincaid. Datura. Patrick Jones. All three have fallen, comfortably, and with an ease that is placing some within Val’s federation to take notice. It is true that I placed the character in a deliberately simple yet difficult place since returning to the company. A trifecta of victories, like my expression at Breakthrough fifty-two, has created a solemn state in which I no longer feel comfortable going through the motions – a ploy which most wrestlers go through in order to look strong and powerful leading up to bigger and better contests. I’ve appreciated the customs, and live under the banner that you can only beat what is put in front of you, but now the time has come where my bait for an opponent has dragged another promising and dangerous competitor into my domain at Armed and Dangerous.

After weeks of triggering the motions that The Valquist was in the market for a real challenge in the company, I am more than happy to sit here with bruised ribs, cut eyelids, and a sore back, if it means Tristan Ambrose has taken the plunge to dethrone the mantle of Full Measures. By the nature of what he said to Valquist, atop my fallen body at Breakthrough, it is clear that he is objecting the very nature of the characters existence, believing that Val is unworthy of a place in the federation, let alone talking about a path that will eventually lead to the Visionaries World Championship. When you goad the idea that you’ll be fighting for what somebody else wants, or what he thinks he deserves, it is easy to draw them from the mud, unveiling ideals and personalities that tell me, the watching audience, and casual observers if this man is ready to assume his own mantle, and his own principles, as a champion within the federation.

Admittedly, I’m in no position to cast agendas or talk up false rhetoric, like Tristan did on this past Breakthrough when he spoke about my position within this company, but I understand his stance, and oddly enough, even appreciate why this man has taken his time to assault me live on air. There’s no question about his argument, it’s an undisputed reality. I did lose to Casanova English at Darkest Hour, and I was cast out of the company, only to return nine months later. The Valquist should have remained dead and buried, but burial was never the end. It only intensified my desires to one day take the name as my own, and to make something great and fierce out of an ideal. The name itself, Valquist, is derived from Infinity City, and in fact has no meaning. It’s an open book of infinite possibilities in a world of unparalleled opportunity. Every step on this path has been for the purpose to enlighten and capture the imagination, even when there are no cracks of light beneath the weighted earth.

But that’s not the issue. The issue with Tristan, one of his own creations, is that there is no justice in the Visionaries of Wrestling. You try to mould yourself to the framework, to standout as an individual who is like nothing ever seen before, only to end up losing. It’s never just losing. You start questioning why, and who is behind your continued damnation. Valquist fought Casanova English on this very issue. Val did all he could to get management, who we all believed swayed towards a darker, deceitful path, to see a greater and brighter future. On that day the good team lost, perhaps wrongly so, but The Valquist believed in something strongly enough to fight for his ultimate vision, even in a dying light. More so, it is so strongly believed in, that the principles alone have been resurrected. It’s the mantle, not the person which has seen Valquist’s past three opponents crumble beneath his feet.

The topic of justice is an intriguing one, because Tristan desperately seeks it, from my point of view, as an excuse and a diversion of where the actual problems lie. Wrestlers quite often have to seek their own form of justice, but what gives Tristan of all people the dignified right to take action into his own hands unless he truly believes in his own devilish prophecies? Tristan’s a born survivor, and as capable as they come, but just from my own personal thoughts, a comparative to most I’ve faced in the wrestling ring, but is he capable of imposing the will of his vision to other people? My eyes see a man drawn to the same vein of corrupt belief and power that the original Valquist fought so hard to overturn. Tristan didn’t have to appear from the weeds to bite his prey from behind, that’s what his able bodied mind told him to do. His outstanding character trait told him to do the most plausible and perhaps the most predictable thing when he attacked the Valquist.

By playing his hand before our encounter at Armed and Dangerous, Ambrose told the story of a man who is so desperate for retribution, that he played a fools card, and ultimately, a losing hand. Justice is only well and good when you’re able to fight for it, but against Valquist there will only be one reality, and for Ambrose it means a continuing path down a dark spiral. It’s incredibly apt that the Darkest Hour pay-per-view is approaching. My job in this is to make Tristan see that victory in the modern day, against a good man, can only be achieved if you are not only as honest, but more persuasive and determined, not just to tell your point, but to show it in the ring. For once in the storied career of Valquist, I’ve the trail of bodies in my shadow to prove the winning way, or any form of justice, is by dominating the basics of what we are born to do, and even though standing rightfully accused, having the heart and the technical capability to overcome any infinity of obstacles. I might stand accused, but do I believe my accuser has the weapon of execution to put this body in the ground again? The honest and true answer, is no.

By pulling the first swing it is Ambrose, a man without an acclaim to much within this federation, to eclipse the actions that he’s previously performed. He must prove to the audience, and to himself, that he’ll be good enough to stand the test of time against a living spirit whose mortality has no bounds within the Visionaries of Wrestling. What he does have is a manager, Alexander Cappotelli, who is an astute speaker and motivator, one that will direct Tristan’s path towards the top, eventually. I truly admire the work Tristan has done, and his ambition to reach the top, as I know that he was been at the summit before, and believes that his relevance and status will only be justified and understood when he has made that leap. At Armed and Dangerous the fear of determination that my mind wonders too on occasion brings a confident grin, knowing that it is he who has to prove that he’s worthy of lifting the hammer.

When these words eventually reach daylight, and they figure out that I had taken on the mantle of The Valquist, they’ll understand why my eyes only roared with focus, and why the personification of the character you’ll have seen for years was a distinct in-ring ability, capable of beating any and all wrestlers that set foot amongst the continued path of enlightenment. Today’s topic, justice, is not on a linear line, with any definitive, with its very usage a veiled signpost of unrest. Soon, the great wall of Tristan Ambrose will be thrown in my direction, and in the telling moment, the name Valquist, and not the person, must stand strong and resolute in the presence of evil. Justice only prevails if you’ve the capacity to tell the tale from the winning side. At Armed and Dangerous, and all roads leading to, this tale has been told by just one name. Valquist.

When you look to know a man you must first look into his origins, his hometown. The world to which they are raised can paint the picture of the man to be, an image of their personality and upbringing can be valuable information to know what motivates man to heed their call to arms. Men can leave their homes to look for better things, some have no option, some have to escape, and some don’t feel at home to begin with. 

Where does that leave us with Tristan Ambrose? Born and raised in the famous city of Seattle I have learnt some quirky things about this scenic location, even its dark upbringing originating with troubles with Native Americans. Did you know the following Isis?

1. 56.5% of people in Seattle hold a Bachelor’s degree or higher.

2. Seattle is twinned to Kaohsiung, Taiwan, since 1991. 

3. Aerospace contributes to at least 9% of the economy.

4. Sheraton Seattle Hotel has 1,258 Guestrooms

5. Seattle is a derivative of the Indian name “Sealth.” Sealth was a chief of the Suquamish tribe at the time the first white settlers arrived in 1851.

Do you know why I am bringing up these facts instead of breaking down the identity of Tristan Ambrose? Easy answer…these facts are more relevant and interesting than the entire personality he has cultivated. You have to really work to get to know Tristan; there isn’t a lot on the surface except for the raw data. He wrestles, albeit not that good, he can talk, albeit not that good, he wakes up in the morning and goes by his normal routine like every average Joe out there. Seattle surprised me the more I read into the fascinating city, it is a shame that not one shred of its great heritage rubbed off on Tristan. Mr Ambrose does not surprise me.

Prime example of this is his wrestling style. One minute he is brawling with his opponents, furious fists, non-stop motion; the next he is controlling moves from the top of the turnbuckle, and then to top it all off he is trying to do power moves like a much bigger wrestler. Tristan doesn’t even know who he is or what makes him strong; his exploration of this craft is a desperate attempt to find all the jigsaw pieces to the puzzle that is Tristan Ambrose. Errors are born in this style, he isn’t content with following a strict discipline, he wants you to think that he can do it all when in honest truth he is making it up as he goes along.

That is why he attacked you. No forethought, only hindsight. An animal attracted by bait, a creature that was lured to bite into the hunk of meat without even thinking. The small victory is owned by him, obtaining a morsel of spotlight he craves, Tristan can have his one big moment. Let him have it. Learn to move on from this, the animal is getting fat after his big win. Allow the beast to feel control, which is how you always best them…by living in his fantasy of deserved domination he believes that he is the master of his own destiny. Enable any delusions he thinks are true, and then strip him of it, in the case of Tristan Ambrose it shouldn’t be hard to starve him of what he craves most. After all, you were the only to put out the bait in the first place, so who was the only truly in control? 

The statement made when Tristan so foolishly attacked you was a simple one to dissect because it was done more out of giving him the attention he wanted. After all, when you are the bland vanilla pudding on offer there is nothing really go get excited about if your name is Tristan Ambrose. Average name. Average height. Average hype. Nothing that makes me want to jump out my seat and cheer for this guy, or even boo him. The crowd doesn’t know what to make of him or if they should be bothered to get behind him or try boo him out the building. Nobody cares about Tristan’s emotional character because he is a husk of personality, a sap for all things charismatic. The audience can relate to Tristan as closely as a deep see whale can enjoy the splendid sights of space travel. Nothing connects, nothing relates, just blank expressions and sighs of ‘Oh, him.’

In this week’s media I was quizzed on the evolution of Valquist, and I got rightly offended. ‘Evolve’ is such a derogatory word. Evolution is expected, it is nature’s law, anything that doesn’t learn to adapt eventually dies, it is only right that everything goes through the slow and incremental changes required to merely survive in this shifting world. These small changes are normally never felt, seen, or even experienced. You are a creator, a source of what is right in this time, and unlike evolution the forces of creation can be born out of something that already exists. Truth is what you create. Chris McCarthy would still be nobody living out of New York trying to make ends meet if this wasn’t the case, and the Valquist would have merely been a dream to him. 

Evolve is a simple word better used to describe people like Tristan…they exist to merely keep pace. The mantle of Valquist is an instrument of truth and change that can be felt in the here and now. Tristan is an evolution; he follows the exact mould of what is expected in this industry, a slow moving necessity. Jobbers are necessary, and that is why men like you exist when the ordinary continue to stagnate, confusing the word ‘evolution’ with ‘progress’. Creatures evolve, men progress. 

Vanilla pudding thinking that it is chocolate cake is only heading for disappointment. That is all I am saying.

Work hard, stay true to the battle plan. Average is always bested by being better than the standard expectation which Tristan usually is: generic. 

Even if you have to keep putting down these sub-standard opponent’s week-in, week-out, so be it. VOW has been scraping the bottom of the barrel and sooner or later they are faced with the truth that you are going to reclaim what was so wrongfully taken from you. The stokes that burn within the fire are eternal, passion does not change, the ideal neither. Valquist does not know anything other than excellence, it may not be done in the classiest manner, but it is effective. Tristan is a pawn, an attempt at putting yet another stumbling block onto the unturning road. The insult is that that they know it too.

It is not fair to write much about Tristan because he is a bit of a blank page, the boring reminder that mediocrity plagues this federation. Tristan is no threat to you if you starve him.

You know your worth, be the very instrument that they all fear. Make Tristan your example, which is all he deserves. Rising up to the Valquist is punishable by sentence of enlightenment. 

You have read my notes on how you want to change your entrance to the ring every week. Valquist has since been associated with the focus on you, and not take any offence but it isn’t. Full Measures is much more than just the sole focus on one person, we are not about the ego that other men desire…we are here to elevate. Only me and TCK know the identity of Valquist, a mantle cannot be from one place anymore, it must be a constant threat. Valquist can be anyone…from anywhere. 

No longer will the camera be pointing at your front, instead they will follow you out to the ring and be there over your shoulder when you come face-to-face with your opponent. 

You can’t introduce an enigma; the introduction of Valquist is debate to the very purpose of your existence. You now exist as greater ideal, and we need to start reflecting that in every action you undertake no matter how small it may be. You will still bear the silver mask, but you will no longer be announced on your way down to the ring. Everything will be from your perspective as it should be. 

Valquist is a name in VOW that people should know, and if they have been living under a rock they will be enlightened to your purpose.  You are larger than the ego of singular men in this federation. Valquist deserves better than to be compared in a similar light to the other competitors. You are now moving forward, the people watching will only see that, not Valquist emerging from something in the past. The truth of enlightenment can only be fulfilled if they see things from your vantage point, because you don’t need to care what people think about you, what matters is how they perceive Valquist’s mission. Seeing the vision, living the walk, seeing what you see, and your view on the world. Doubters cannot be turned into believers without perspective.

A normal entrance is about how a wrestler wants the world to view him.

Valquist wants the world to see what he does.

That begins with Tristan, a soul of pathetic ego. 

Stepping out of the ordinary will be good for you, you’re different. 

Be the first and last you.

Tucked away from the limelight and fandom of the event at Armed and Dangerous, Chris finishes his preparations ahead of his encounter with Tristan Ambrose later on in the show. Having already begun, Chris’s locker-room was padded, creating a vacuum of noise, and a spot of relaxation and focus. Having been alerted via text that TCK had taken his seat, disguised as a member of the audience, members of VoW security waited outside to call Valquist out to the arena. The least fashionably part of Chris’s existence was Valquist was wearing the nano-suit before battle. Its tight fitting nature was acceptable in a wrestling sense, but became uncomfortable to wear throughout the day at media appearances for the company. On the day of the pay-per-view, Chris had been doing promotion all day as Val, and due to the size difference of Chris and Val, needed the technology on hand to create the filled illusion of Val’s size and stature. Transformed into the Infinity based wrestler, a knock at the door is heard, with the door automatically opening into the furnished suite with an all-black and white interior. Val stood to attention, not to see Darius Yates, but that of Isis Derrida. Having the door closed behind him, the ever present scene of Derrida involving himself just before Chris’s matches had been the constant reminder of fear that he’s come to expect.

“I was told we could have a moment before you tear the head off Tristan Ambrose,” Isis claims. “I’m not here to apologise for last time, or here to put fear in your heart, but to follow through on what you and the Copycat have come to create.”

Behind his back, Isis unveils a solid silver mask of the Valquist, a prop the Valiant wrestler once used when conducting in-ring promos in the company.

“You’re right, it has to be forward, always.” Isis backs away having gifted Chris the weighted mask. “Creating the truth in people they didn't see before, it doesn’t come from the spotlight being on you. It is showing the people through your eyes the honesty of your enlightenment.”

Placing the mask down by his side, Chris isn’t eager to respond to Derrida, but is relaxed despite Val’s number one rival standing directly opposite.

“Tonight, the world finally sees what my brother saw for the last two decades. Val, he too didn’t want me around. My presence usually implied that my own version of reality, one you are already accustomed with here in halls decked of blood and veil intent, would override the work to turn water into wine. That’s partially right, Chris. I am here to seize your lost opportunities, and to clean up the errors in the wake of your failures. We’re not in the business of conceding defeat, we are here to ultimately gain control, rule, and present our bettered image across to a company that hasn’t caught up with your potential or your ability to inspire and lead. But that doesn’t mean by any stretch of the imagination that I’m your enemy.”

Isis quickly realises that Chris’s intent is to keep his lips firmly sealed tight, to keep a focus on tonight’s match, in which Val would be debuting new theme music. Derrida heads for the door, but hesitates when he hears Chris begins to inhale stale air.

“I’m not here to pay the price of the past, we’re here to carve the air and the earth in our favour. The Valquist will not lay his head to rest, or told what has come of him, until that infamous word is roared in celebration. The singular element of justice stands before you.”

Chris turns putting the silver mask over his head, his voice personified and echoed through the chrome outline.

“To me, this is all an undying focus, a never ending tale of betterment. Full Measures is only a name if its protagonists aren’t aligned.”

Chris moves towards Isis, hearing another knock at the door. Before opening to a joyless and bored security staff, Chris reaches up, putting a firm hand on Isis’s left shoulder.

“Now go home, friend. Tonight, the spotlight isn’t on either of us, it’s on the message. The world can be saved, and it is well worth saving. Even standing accused, this world needs a hero.”

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Courageousness will lead us to victory. Courageous people carry integrity, respect, and humbleness, know their strengths and weaknesses, and keep to their vows. For me, the biggest attribution of courage is the ability to speak truthfully and know that all it takes for evil to triumph is for good men to do nothing.

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.

My name is Valquist.

His name is Derrida.

Full Measures.

Be the first and last you.