It’s role call time!

Six foot tall?

Here, Sir!

260lbs?

Here!

Out of shape

...

Out of shape?

Oh, my mistake... that’s the other guy.

-------

Never before had Eugene looked so good.

I mean, his face was still covered in pock marks and blemishes, his hair still looked more like a bushfire than an actual style, and he still needed his coke bottle glasses to see anything that wasn’t the end of his own nose, but from the neck down he looked better than he had done since he was about seven years old.

But then you’d expect that after half a year of rigorous training, wouldn’t you?

“If you’d told me, a year ago today, I’d be standing here at a lifetime low of two hundred and sixty pounds... I’d have laughed in your face.”

Gone were Eugene’s multiple chins, he only had the two to speak of now. Also gone was the permanent red tint to his face. However If anything that served to make him look unwell, considering how pale he was naturally.

“And if you’d told me I’d be standing here addressing a man that outweighed me by two pounds... Well, I’d have thought you were talking about Jan Gin Xiao.”

Eugene allowed a smile to slowly develop. It did feel good to be the ‘thin’ one for a change. And bahgawd was he? He’d dropped to a 40” waist! Sure, he was no Kate Moss, and he wouldn’t be buying any drainpipes for a while, but being able to wear a pair of 40” pants out of the store was better than sex.

Probably.

“And if you’d told me I’d be walking out in front of...”

Gulp.

“18000 plus people...”

Deep, deep breath.

“All alone...”

No choice but shallow breaths now. Just quick, panic stricken shallow breaths.

“No... No...”

Eugene dove into his pocket and pulled out an inhaler. He took a puff on it and held his breath for a moment, obviously counting in his head. Finally he released a long drawn out and closed his eyes.

“Come on, you’ve done it before.”

He wasn’t addressing the camera now, no, he was talking to himself on his own little side bar.

“You’ve stood out there in front of thousands and thousands of people. It’s just... been a while.”

That was true, Eugene hadn’t been in the ring for almost three months. Well, that’s a lie, he hadn’t been in a DEFIANCE ring for almost three months. And those that he had been gracing barely had ten eyes on them at a time, let alone whatever eighteen thousand is doubled.

“And you’ve faced worse than Jeremy Knyte before as well.”

Also true. Remember when Eugene stood toe to toe with Jeff Andrews, reigning DEFIANCE world champion? Remember when he sat ass to chest with Bronson Box and pinned his shoulders to the floor?

For the second time.

Normally you’d expect a nod of the head and a confident look, but that’s not what happened. No, instead Eugene shook his head and looked back at the camera, if his expression had to be described in any way it would be ‘uneasy’.

“I have faced worse... or better... whichever way you want to look at it. But every time I’ve stepped in that ring I’ve been the underdog... Nobody expected anything from me, yet I pulled out upsets more frequently than Activision release a new version of COD.”

He ran a hand backwards over his hair and cupped the back of his neck. For the first time ever Eugene’s bicep bulged under his T-shirt

“But that’s all different now. Now there’s just this...this pressure.”

Eugene pushed into his own chest.

“It’s like a weight, pushing down on me. Knowing that I’m going to walk into the Lakefront Arena and there’s going to be eighteen thousand people expecting so much from me...”

“Three months away, training every day. Cardio, weights, diet, every mental exercise you can imagine, all of them designed to help me reach my full potential. If I was winning matches and taking champions to the limit before that, where should I be now?”

Obviously rhetoric.

“A guy past his prime shouldn’t be a problem, should he?”

Eugene buried his face in his hands and rubbed his eyes.

“But what if I’ve reached my full potential? What if it’s all downhill from here?”

“What if runner up to Jeff Andrews is the best I’ll ever manage?”

“All that training, all that time, all the blood, the sweat and the tears, all so I could be Eugene Dewey-ed by Jeremy Knyte?”

Eugene closed his eyes and shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter how much speed or strength Jeremy might have lost, I know full well they’re not the tools that make a man dangerous.”

“Just like Jeremy Knyte, I’ve been the punch line. I’ve been, for lack of a better term, the underdog. I’ve been the guy nobody expected to win. I know having nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

“They are what make a man dangerous.”

“I don't have that element of surprise at my disposal any more. Training with Sergei, Tom, Boston and all the rest here at the Training Temple has given me a whole new toolset to utilise...”

Almost involuntarily Eugene puffed out his chest and flexed his arms, and if he could subconsciously suplex someone he’d have probably done that as well.

“And it’s given me something else as well... It’s given me something to lose...”

“Pride.”

“Honor.”

“And the only way to keep them is it fight harder than I’ve ever fought before.”

 

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