“You like it?” Eugene asked as he readjusted the position of the plain, brown leather belt that he’d draped over his shoulder. The very same belt that he’d announced to the world earlier in the week his mom had bought him as a kind of sympathy gift, “Just imagine how it’d look if it had a huge gold plate right there...”

Eugene spread out his hand and placed it in the middle of the brown strap.

“Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom and everything, but bless her, she doesn’t quite get wrestling.” He continued, “I know, rich coming from me, right? But her idea of a belt is exactly this, practical and smart, so she doesn’t quite get why we fight over them.”

“She doesn’t understand that when we compete we do it for more than the ability to wrap a piece of leather around our waists.” He said as he pulled the strap from his shoulder and cast it aside, slightly gentler than he had done previously, “The belt that we’re awarded is merely a symbol, a physical representation of everything we fight for.”

“The Fist of Defiance won’t have any practical use, will it?” Eugene asked, “It’s not gonna hold my or anybody elses pants up, is it? It’s not going to have a grappling hook in the buckle and a wealth of batarangs attached to the side. Yet here we all are, puffing out our chests and holding our chins up high, telling everybody else is Defiance that we’re going to be the one walking out of Orlando with the title belt.”

“And why?” He continued, “Because we want what it represents, and we want to show the world that we are the embodiment of everything that makes Defiance what it is.”

“And so that begs the question ‘what is Defiance?’” Eugene asked, obviously rhetorically. After all, there was nobody around to answer him, “What are we fighting to embody?”

“Defiance is, and has always been about, rebellion.” He said emphatically. “Rebellion against those things we believe to be wrong, and making a stand for everything we feel is right.”

“And that’s why I did what I did at the Grand Champions League Final.” Eugene said as he proudly held his head up high, “I’ll admit, I was sceptical over everything Tom Sawyer said at first, but I soon saw the light. And I’m glad I did, because the actions of The Untouchables that night certainly weren’t right.”

“And they may well have had their hands raised at the end of the night,” Eugene admitted, “But being Defiant isn’t about winning every fight. It’s about coming back from the defeats, standing your ground and refusing to go down again.”

“When the Fist of Defiance match comes around I’m gonna show every single fan watching around world, everyone in the back, and most importantly The Untouchables... Eugene Dewey equals Defiance.”

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