“A little under two years ago I was promised something beyond my wildest dream. I was promised fame, fortune, and more video games than I could ever play.”

“And here I stand, a little further down the road, and have those promises been fulfilled?” Eugene Dewey asked, “Am I the richest of the rich, the most famous of the... famous... Do I have a stack of video games a mile high that I just can’t bash my way through?”

Of course there wasn’t anybody around to answer. It was just him, in his usual location lit only by the glow of his monitor recording with his webcam.

“Well, I’ve definitely got that last one.” He answered with a quick glace out of shot, “Although I think I may have been misled on the details there. Sure I’ve got unplayed games piling up in the corner of the room, but that’s only because Defiance has acted like a giant time sink, draining away every spare second I might have with the need to train or prepare for the next event.”

“And I guess it could be argued that it's worth it. After all, I do get the odd look of recognition here and there, and I’ve signed more autographs than I’ve had hot meals, but I’m not exactly on the cover of people, am I?” He laughed, but it was one of those forced laughs. The kind employed by people in an attempt to mask their true feelings, but it just comes across as overcompensation. “And the fortune? I’m doing OK I guess. I’ve squirrelled a little away. But, that could have had a major injection in the shape of a briefcase containing fifty thousand dollars just a few months ago.

“Only it didn’t. Because I simply wasn’t good enough.” Eugene said, sounding like he’d resigned himself to that idea long ago. “So if I’ve not got the notoriety and the cash that I was almost guaranteed I’d be swimming in, what do I have?”

“I have a Brother that doesn’t talk to me, a Mother that expects me to pay rent ‘now that i’ve got a job’,” He said in a mocking, feminine voice. (I mean, seriously, how unreasonable can you get, eh?) “And nose so misshapen I can smell what’s behind me.”

Eugene was of course referring to the broken nose he’d suffered at the hands of Bronson Box during the playoffs.

“Oh, I’ve also had a whole load of disappointment.” He added, “Which I can sum up by showing you one thing.”

Eugene lifted his arm out in front of his at shoulder height. In his chubby little fist he clutched the end of a long, brown, leather belt. He looked at it in silence for a moment and slowly shook his head.

“My Mom bought me this...” He said sounding quite pathetic. He brought the belt back back to his chest and held onto it with both hands, looking down at it he continued, “She handed it to me and told me how proud she was that her boy made it so far.”

“She said I might not have won the league, but I was a champion in her heart...” He added sounding like he was about to start bawling his eyes out.

Eugene pressed the belt into his chest and fought to stop his bottom lip from quivering. That wasn’t a difficult thing to do though, as he was the one forcing it to do so. He quickly turned and discarded the belt like a stack of Murloc Fins.

You should be impressed, that was better acting than you'll see in any Keanu Reeves movie.

“Well that’s all very well and good isn’t it Mom! Your little Eugene is a champion in your eyes isn’t he! But what about the other six point nine nine nine nine nine-” Eugene took a long, loud inhale of breath. “Nine nine nine nine million people in the world? Huh? Am I a champion in their eyes? No, I’m not, because they don’t hand out medals for twelfth place, do they?”

“But I have my chance now, don’t I?” He said, his eyes wide with excitement. “I’ve got my opportunity to hold a belt that actually means something. I’ve got the chance wear something around my waist that symbolises all of the blood, sweat and tears that I’ve put into Defiance over the last two years.”

“Because let’s face it,” He added, “Even if there is someone that’s bled and sweat more than I have since I joined Defiance, they sure as hell haven’t cried as much as me.”

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