Trilogies are, for lack of a better term, fucking epic.

There’s no denying it.

Who doesn’t remember the anticipation felt during the ads before ‘Return Of The King’?

Or, if you’re old enough, the butterflies that flitted around your stomachs in the run up to Episode VI’s release.

Who wasn’t stoked beyond belief the day before Gears of War 3 hit the shelves?

I know I was.

This week wrestling fans around the world will be treated to the long awaited third installment in a saga that has spanned almost 16 months as Eugene Dewey takes on Bronson Box once more.

And this time it’s Playoff related.

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Allow me to catch you up.

A year and a half ago Eugene Dewey’s life was very, very different. He didn’t have a lot of money, he didn’t have a lot of friends... well, real ones anyway, and he most certainly didn’t leave his mother’s basement for much more than ten minutes at a time. But then things change, don’t they?

Most of his time was spent trying to improve his tanking abilities, ganking low level tauren in Mulgore, or achievement whoring all so he could claim to have more points than that dick Mage in his guild, ‘Pompom’.

How he loathed that guy.

Needless to say, when Eugene Dewey joined the ranks of Defiance all that changed. His tanking abilities started to slip, he had no time for griefing of any kind, and Pompom stormed ahead collecting many of the new achievements added in Cataclysm.

Yet that didn’t bother Eugene as much as one may think

You see, Eugene developed a whole new set of problems on a weekly basis, and one of them was an absolute doozy. For Eugene Dewey developed one major problem in the form of ‘Bombastic’ Bronson Box.

It all started off fairly innocently. Eugene and Box were to face off in a one on one match, there was the usual posturing from both men before said match up, but then something nobody expected occured.

Eugene Dewey defeated the former Defiance champion.

I know, shock horror, right?

Anyway, following that match Bronson Box went a little... ok, a lot more mental, even by his standards as he injured, cut up and wrote off not one, but two young upstarts in one match. Meanwhile, on that exact same show, Eugene’s brother Wayne managed to anger Eric Dane so much that Dane scheduled a rematch for the following week.

Eugene Dewey v. Bronson Box II.

Once again the gorilla impressions commenced and once again, although still surprisingly, Eugene picked up another victory.

Bronson Box snapped.

I think we’re all aware of what happened from there.

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By the flickering light of his monitor, Eugene Dewey sat absentmindedly turning a scrap of paper between his fingers. He yawned heavily and looked to the bottom right corner of the screen in front of him.

03:39

“Bedtime soon.” He whispered to himself as he slumped lower into his swivel chair and used his free hand to rub his eyes. The light hurt his eyes as he opened them again, but that was the least of his worries right now.

“There’s the Shoryuken! But Bronson Box is still standing! What’s it gonna take to put this madman down!?” Came Cito Connari’s voice from the 7.1 system situated around Eugene’s desk.

“More than Dewey can muster.” Said the unmistakable voice of Angus Skaaland.

“Dewey’s trying to lift Box, Can he do it?! YES!! DEWEY SLAMS BOX!” Cito screamed, “AND NOW HE’S HEADED UP THE ROPES! WHAT’S HE GONNA DO FROM THERE?!”

Eugene reached out and almost hammerfisted his spacebar, stopping the video dead. Aside from the reverberations of his strike through his desk his basement fell into complete silence.

“What a mess.” He said to himself in disgust. “Look at yourself.”

On the screen sat a still frame anyone would be ashamed to see. Eugene Dewey stood on the second rope, bent over, clinging onto the ring post for dear life while sticking his moon-sized ass out two thirds of the way across the ring. Beads of sweat hung in the air as they dripped from his face and his shirt had become almost see through from the drenching it had taken over the course of the match previous.

“Mess...” Eugene repeated in a whisper before hitting the spacebar once again to set the video playing again.

Instantly the Eugene in the recording fell backwards down onto the Bombastic one below and scrambled to cover him in any manner he possibly could.

“Lucky, me?” Eugene snorted, “Box was lucky he still had a sternum after that.”

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The screen filled with Eugene’s eyes, nose, mouth and chubby cheeks. Kind of like Cancer Jiles’ headshot, only the owner of said features was far less of a C word.

And I’m not talking about COOL.

“I didn’t roll you up, nor did I win by mistake. I beat you fair and square in the middle of that ring, not by disqualification or countout, by pinfall. Twice.

“One. Two. Three.

“When we meet in the playoffs things are going to be a little different for both of us. Sure, last time I had Wayne in my corner, and I had the words of... I want to say wisdom... of The Mage, while you had nobody but that imaginary friend you call ‘God’ in yous.

“This time though I’m the one walking out to the ring alone and you’re the one bringing backup.

“No surprise really, considering your record against me you’re going to need every bit of help you can muster.

“I’m not the boy I was last year, Bronson. I’ve grown, I’ve learned, and I’ve improved so don’t be mistaken in thinking you’ll facing the same Eugene Dewey you met twice before.

“You though? You’re the same as ever.

“You dismissed me twice before and what happened? You think you can realistically look forward to Christian Light while I’m stood in your way.”

Black.

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