I lost my damn mind on the field - killed two guys on the other team, it was the stress. My mug got broadcasted all over the world to keep the poor distracted and the rich spending money. It happened a while after I was crowned champion of the World Combat Games.

Glory trumped friends, sleep, health, sanity. My mantra was 'glory trumps all' and I totally believed it.

But soon, winning became my high: I needed it to breathe! The crowd went NUTS when I pulled off a signature move - and that was all I cared about! The cheers, the prestige. I was grateful at the time - it was a pretty sweet setup. They invested MOUNTAINS of cash into making me the perfect athlete. I WAS pretty good, but I was just a kid who wanted to throw a ball around, man!Īnyway, Korp bought me up. Apparently I was showin' signs of a 'hyper-athletic predisposition'. When I was a tyke, just five years old, I got sold - auctioned off to whichever one of those fancy competitive sports breeders wanted me most. You know the story - I'm glorious, baby! But glory ain't all it's made out to be.

How to get juke in modern combat versus