WAR
The Journey of Martial

Dark

It was the second week on Fight Island and Tuesday morning when a knock on my door shook me from sleep.

“What now?” I groaned just low enough not to be heard.

I got up and hobbled over to the door as fast as my tired legs could carry me and opened it to find someone official-looking standing in the hallway. From what I could tell, she was a WAR employee and she was holding a tablet and wearing a friendly smile.

“Good morning, Martial,” she said. “I’m here to notify you that your WAR account is ready and your WAR-wallet has been created.”

“Huh?” I asked.

I was still pretty groggy, but I was almost certain she said ‘WAR wallet.’

“What’s a WAR-wallet?” I asked,

She chuckled.

“It’s where your funds are stored. How else are you supposed to buy stuff on the island?”

“Here, let me help you set it up.”

She stepped inside and asked me where my phone was. Then, she guided me through downloading the WAR app on my phone.

“All set!” she said when she was done with my phone.

She handed it back to me and, as soon as I logged in, a notification popped up. My eyes must have nearly popped right out of their sockets when I saw just how much was in my WAR-wallet.

“750 WARcoins? Is that right?” I asked.

So much for playing it cool.

“Yes,” she replied. “That’s about 225,000 New Zealand dollars,” she explained. “It’s part of your WAR contract.”

I figured it had to be in that ballpark because I was already so used to seeing the double pricing in all the shops around the island — WAR currency on one side and the dollar equivalent on the other.

To be honest, I was completely overwhelmed. I had always wondered what it would be like to have a large sum of money at my disposal, and now I had it. Growing up, money had always been tight and I was used to counting every dollar. This felt like a dream.

“Remember, everything is free for fighters on Fight Island provided it is reasonable,” she added. “This payment is for whatever else you like.”

“Wow,” I managed to say. “Thank you.”

“Congratulations, Martial,” she said warmly. “Good luck with the rest of your training and the upcoming matches.”

With that, she left the room.

I stood there and stared at my phone for the longest time. The screen would go dark and it would auto-lock. Then, I’d unlock it just to stare at the app’s home screen again. I had never seen this much money in my account before. The possibilities seemed endless.

‘I could buy new training gear,’ I thought. ‘Maybe treat myself to some luxuries, or even send some money back home to help my mom. The thought of being able to provide for her — even in a small way — filled me with pride. I could protect her now. I could provide for her and give her a life she didn’t need to stress over.

“If only Dad could see me now,” I said under my breath.

I sat down on the edge of my bed and my mind continued racing with thoughts and plans. But then I remembered Coach Flynn’s words. I needed to stay focused. This money was a resource, not a distraction. I took a deep breath and tried to ground myself.

“Alright,” I said to myself, “let’s make the most of this.”

I felt brand new at that point and I decided to start my day. If there was a shred of drowsiness left in me when I had answered that door, it was completely gone. Still, I knew that there was a lot of training ahead and I needed to be at my best.

‘Time to get prepared for the day.’

I had taken Coach Flynn’s words to heart before, but this really took it all the way home. The reality of my situation began to sink in. I was here, on Fight Island, with an incredible opportunity to change my life. And I wasn’t going to waste it.

For the next couple of days, everything seemed to be going perfectly. Training was great. I started to shine at strength and conditioning but sparring rounds weren’t all that bad either. In fact, everyone in training was radiating positive energy and there weren’t any spats. The atmosphere was electric. It was filled with an uncanny sense of solidarity and even more determination than ever before.

Before I knew it, four weeks had gone by in a breeze.

It was a cycle of eat, sleep, train, and repeat.

Sure, there were a lot of media obligations, but they were easy to handle. For the most part, it was the same question over and over: “What is it like to be Backup 2 for Team New Zealand?”

Eventually, media sessions became routine. It was almost like it had become a part of training. The good thing about the fact that journalists always asked the same questions was that I had learned to answer them with a kind of debonair candour that made me seem cooler than what I was — well, what I thought I was, anyway. I spoke about the honour of being part of Team New Zealand and the thrill of the competition. I detailed just how much I was learning from my teammates and coaches.

Inside, I knew that while the experience was enriching, the financial security it provided was also a huge factor in why I was there. I had to pretend it wasn’t about the money though. Actually, to be perfectly honest, money wasn’t my initial motivation. I got into this sport for the love of it alone. But now that I had the money to go along with it, money had become my focus. It was easy money to me, too, because I just had to show up and have a good time.

Were there days when I thought about what would happen with my one-tournament contract if I didn’t fight? Yes. But I pushed those thoughts aside. Negative thinking had no place here. I had my heart set on making the most of every opportunity. All I wanted was to soak in every experience and grow as much as I could — as a fighter and as a person.

That’s one of the reasons why I was grateful for the rigorous training schedule. It kept me focused. Each day started with intense strength and conditioning workouts that pushed our limits and that was followed by technical drills that honed our skills. Sparring rounds became my highlight of the day because that’s where we tested our abilities against each other. It was a chance to refine our techniques and strategies.

But through it all, Coach Flynn’s guidance meant the world to me. Having the one man, who my dad and I supported over the years, training me was like having a piece of my dad right there with me. He had a knack for pushing us just enough to improve without breaking our spirits and it made that feeling of unity among the team grow stronger by the day. We supported each other. We shared laughs and the struggle. Best of all, we formed bonds that felt like family.

As the weeks passed, I realized how much I had changed because of the time I had spent there. The early excitement had shifted into something different. It was a deep motivation that came from a goal that was now so deep-rooted in my mind that nothing could shake me from it. I was no longer just a kid from Auckland. I was part of something bigger than just me.

The match against Team Ireland was just around the corner, and you could feel the intensity picking up as we edged closer to it. Even the jiu-jitsu rounds were no longer light. We had to push each other to the absolute limit in training so that fight night would be easy. The atmosphere in the gym was charged with anticipation.

“Come on, push it!” Coach Flynn’s voice boomed across the training facility as we rolled on the mats.

“Fight night isn’t the time to slack off. Leave it all here so you have no regrets when it is time.”

The sessions were becoming increasingly gruelling. Every takedown and every submission attempt was hard-won. Every scramble was executed with maximum effort.

We were no longer just sparring partners. We were steel sharpening steel and honing our skills to a fine edge. The sweat poured, muscles ached, and yet we kept pushing forward. We were like madmen and women — totally driven by the challenge of facing Team Ireland.

On one of the hardest days, during a break, I wiped the sweat from my face and caught my breath. I could see that just about everyone else on the team was equally exhausted, but there was a fierce fortitude in their eyes. We were in this together and we were ready to give everything we had. I needed to rest my muscles, though, so I headed straight to the sauna.

The walk to the sauna was quiet and calm. The hallway’s wide, with smooth floors that reflected the overhead lights, had become so familiar to me. When I got to the recovery centre, I looked up at the digital panels on the walls that displayed recovery tips and schedules. I walked almost instinctively to the sauna, which was at the end of the hall. I walked through the frosted door and, inside, the walls invited me in. They were made of warm cedar and the benches curved gently to fit the body.

After a long session in the sauna, I headed back to my room. The sauna helped but I could still feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. Just as I was about to crash onto my bed, my phone buzzed.

It was Oli.

“Hey, man,” I answered as I tried to muster some energy.

“Hey, it’s been a while since we talked, superstar,” Oli said with a voice that was light and teasing. “Haven’t spoken since Jessica interrupted us last time.”

The thought of Jessica and that night made me cringe. I had come into this place so immature and out of place. To make it worse, I had let myself get too close to Jessica and I knew that I had hurt her. I didn’t want to get into it though.

“Yeah, it was a crazy night,” I replied.

“How did the night go?” Oli asked and I could hear the curious bubbling up in his tone. I knew what he was getting at, but I just wanted him to let it go.

“It was... it was fine,” I said

“Who would have thought Jessica would invite you, especially after what you did to her ex,” Oli said, chuckling.

His words triggered a flashback. The memory of that day washed over me. It was vivid and intense.

It was my last New Zealand Fight Academy Regional final and I had to fight Dan Moore in the final bout of the tournament.

Dan Moore was the golden boy of the academy. He had everything — wealthy parents, the dream girl, the dream car, and the reputation of being a killer Super Welterweight. I had always been kind of envious of him.

Unlike him, fighting was all I had and I wasn't about to let him take it away from me.

The academy arena was packed. Everyone who was affiliated with the academy, including teachers and local residents, was there. The atmosphere was electrifying and polarizing at the very same time and I could feel their expectations bearing down on me. Normally, I was able to hide my nerves behind a poker face, but this time was different.

This time, the stakes were too high.

Dan Moore walked out last and exuded heaps of confidence. He pointed at me with his 4-ounce gloves when he stepped into the cage with a smug grin on his face. The crowd roared. There was a lot on the line. Most importantly, the spot for the Super Welterweight draft.

The memory sharpened as I recalled the fight. The bell rang and we clashed in the centre of the cage. The first round was a hard striking brawl. Both of us busted each other's faces and noses.

We were bloodied but determined as we traded heavy shots. Dan got a late takedown and landed heavy elbows and punches from the top. It ended the first round in his favour.

In the second round, the pattern continued. I landed good striking combinations with punches and leg kicks, but Dan threw an overhand right that landed clean and stung me. He attempted another takedown, but I sprawled and took his back to land big punches. Dan got to the cage and managed to disengage. Without a setup, he threw a head kick that I barely blocked, which was followed by a barrage of punches. I felt one connect with my jaw, but I didn’t back down.

‘Fighting is all I have,’ I reminded myself as I pushed through the pain. ‘I’m not going to let him take this from me.’

In that moment, the roar of the crowd became a distant sound. It was just me and Dan — fighting for everything we believed in. The bell rang and I threw everything I had — every ounce of strength and every bit of technique — at Dan. He was tough, but I was relentless.

Going into the third round, I knew Dan was up 2-0, but I was not finished. I pressed the fight with clean strikes and I could sense that Dan was starting to mentally break down. I pushed the pace and refused to let up.

I saw an opening. Dan dropped his guard for a split second and I capitalized. I threw a combination of strikes and ended with a powerful right hook. It connected cleanly and Dan staggered. I didn’t give him a chance to recover. I moved in and secured a clinch to deliver knee strikes to his body. He tried to break free, but I tightened my grip. Then I swept Dan’s leg and took him to the ground. I mounted him and rained down punches.

The referee moved in and signalled the end of the fight.

I had won.

The roar of the crowd was deafening.

My face was completely busted up. My nose was swollen, my lip was split, and I could feel a bruise forming around my eye.

This was why I never liked bringing my mum to my fights — it was always too much for her. The sight of me battered and bruised would have broken her heart.

The flashback faded, and I was back in my room, holding my phone. Oli was still talking.

“Who would have thought, right?” he said with a laugh. “But seriously, how are you holding up? Training must be intense.”

“Yeah, it’s been tough,” I admitted. “But I'm focused. I've got to stay sharp.”

“Good to hear, bro,” Oli said. “Just remember, we’re all rooting for you back home.”

“Thanks, man. It means a lot,” I replied.

We talked a bit more before hanging up. As I put my phone down, I couldn’t help but feel a mix of emotions. The past was behind me, but its lessons were always present. They were right there in the forefront of my mind. I had come a long way since that fight with Dan Moore, but the journey was far from over.

The next day came and everything was going as usual. We were deep into a wrestling session and working on our takedowns as well as our defence. The atmosphere was focused and intense because all any of us wanted was to be in peak condition for the upcoming match against Team Ireland.

Suddenly, a loud scream pierced the air and broke our concentration. We all turned toward the source of the noise.

Tama Rangi was on the mat and clutching his knee in obvious pain. Coach Flynn rushed over and I could see a look of urgent concern on his face.

“What happened?” he demanded as he kneeled beside Tama, whose face was contorted in agony.

“My knee,” he gasped. “I can’t feel…help.”

Kahu Walker, who had been grappling with Tama, looked horrified.

“I’m so sorry, Tama,” he stammered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” Coach Flynn said as he tried to calm the situation. “It was an accident. Let’s focus on getting Tama the help he needs.”

The medical team arrived quickly, carrying a stretcher. They assessed Tama’s injury and stabilized his leg before carefully lifting him onto the stretcher.

But Tama’s face was pale and his pain was clear for all of us to see in every strained breath. As they carried him out of the training facility, the room fell into a heavy silence. The session ended early and the energy in the room was down. We all felt the impact of what had happened. Tama was one of our key fighters and seeing him in such pain was a harsh reminder of the physical toll this sport could take.

Coach Flynn stood up with a grave look on his face.

“Alright, everyone,” he said firmly. “I know this is tough, but injuries are part of this game. We’ll get through this. Let’s regroup tomorrow.”

We all gathered our things but I couldn’t shake the image of Tama’s face twisted in pain. The reality of our situation was sinking in deeper. Every one of us was putting our bodies on the line and the risks were very real. Back in my room, I sat down and tried to process everything. The bad energy from the training room was a serious contrast to the usual buzz of excitement and it had followed me all the way back to my room like a bad stink.

I hoped that Tama would recover quickly, but I also knew that his injury would have ripple effects on the entire team. The match against Team Ireland was so close and we needed to be at our best. This setback could cost us.

“Come on, Martial,” I said to myself, “we have to stay focused and united on this one.”

I wanted to clear my mind, so I crashed onto the couch and tried to relax, but the day’s events kept playing in my head. Just as I began to unwind, my phone buzzed.

It was a call from Jessica.

I didn’t want to answer but I didn’t want her to think that I was some chump that had shut her out.

So, I answered.

“Hey, Jessica.”

“Hey, Martial,” she replied, but I could hear that her voice was strained and upset. “How’ve you been? It’s been a while, but… I need to talk to you. Can I come see you?”

“I’m really tired, Jessica,” I said. My voice was heavy with exhaustion. “It’s been a long day, but… what’s going on?”

“Please, Martial. I really need to talk to you,” she pleaded. “Can I come over to your room? Please.”

I sighed.

“I wish you could, but it’s not safe, Jess,” I said as I lowered my voice. “You know how closely everything’s monitored here. I don’t want to risk getting us both in trouble.”

“Please, Martial,” she repeated as her voice broke. “I don’t know what to do, and I can’t go through this alone.”

I sighed again. This time it was an agitated sound. I could feel her desperation through the phone and it irritated me a little. I could barely keep my own emotional head above water. I didn’t need to be risking it all for Jessica.

But she sounded so lost that my irritation soon faded.

“Alright, there’s a nice restaurant someone recommended down by the harbour. We can talk there.”

“Ok,” she blubbered.

“Give me 20 minutes,” I said as I took a whiff of my pits. There was no way I was going to meet her for the first time since our falling out smelling like this.

I speed-showered and it seemed to do the trick. I got dressed even faster and made my way to the Tickled Crab.

It was a fancy place with dim lighting and an intimate atmosphere. By the time I got there, Jessica was already sitting at a table near the back. I could tell just by looking at her that she seemed really down. As we sat down and started looking at the menu, I could see even more of the sadness in her eyes.

“Jessica, I’m really sorry for being distant,” I said as I tried to bridge the gap I had created. “I didn’t think you thought much of me. If I had known you’d be this upset, I would’ve tried harder to work my way around the system.”

Jessica’s eyes welled up with tears.

“It’s not that,” she said as her voice trembled.

“Then what is it?” I asked.

She paused and I could tell that she was struggling to find the words. Finally, she looked up at me with her eyes full of fear and uncertainty.

Just then, the waiter came over and said, “What can I get the two lovebirds this evening?”

“I think I'm pregnant,” Jessica blurted out.

“Okay, I’ll come back later,” the waiter said as he scooted out of there faster than a crab trying to escape a soup pot.

Her words hit me like a truck and my world started spinning out of control.

“What...What do you mean you’re pregnant?” I managed to ask, but my voice was barely a whisper.

She nodded and more tears streamed uncontrollably down her face. It was like someone had turned a tap on behind her eyes.

“I tried multiple pregnancy tests. They all came back positive.”

I was speechless and my mind was racing. The implications of her words were overwhelming and Jessica’s crying only grew worse. I felt a deep pang of guilt and responsibility. She looked at me and her eyes searched for reassurance, but I had none to give. I was just as shocked as she was.

“What are we going to do, Martial?”

Frustration boiled over inside me.

“How am I supposed to know?” I snapped as I was overcome with what this could mean. “Does anyone else know about this?”

“No,” she said through her sobs. “You’re the only one.”

I sat back and felt completely distraught. But just as I was trying to process everything, a young girl approached our table.

“Excuse me, are you Jessica Lee?” the stranger asked with a hopeful smile on her face.

Jessica quickly wiped her tears and managed a weak smile.

“Yes, that’s me.”

“I can’t believe it! I used to watch your vlogs on Youfight,” the girl gushed.

“We’re talking right now, and it’s not a good time,” I cut in. I was annoyed by the intrusion.

Undeterred, the fan continued, “Can I get a picture with you? My friend also loved to watch JessicaLeeLive. She will not believe this.”

My patience snapped.

“PLEASE, leave us alone!” I shouted.

My voice echoed through the restaurant and the fan’s face fell. She quickly walked away and murmured an apology.

I sighed heavily as the tension between Jessica and me only grew thicker.

Jessica’s annoyance was obvious as she glared at me.

“Was that really necessary?”

I couldn’t contain my frustration any longer.

“I can't believe this,” I muttered as I shook my head. “I’m no Dan Moore. This is my one shot. I owe this to my mother. I can’t let this slip away. This is my chance to change my family’s legacy and their future.”

Jessica sniffled and looked down at her hands.

“I’m sorry, Martial. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

I rubbed my temples and tried to think clearly.

“I know, Jessica. We just... We need to figure this out. One step at a time. First, we need to confirm this with a doctor. Then, we’ll figure out the next steps together.”

She nodded, but she still looked miserable.

“Okay. I guess...” she stammered. “I guess we need to see a doctor. I didn’t ask for this either, you know.”

I tried to calm down and took a deep breath.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. This is just... a lot to handle.”

Jessica nodded. Her eyes were still red from crying.

“Let’s just get through this, okay?” she said.

“Okay,” I agreed. “One step at a time.”

We finished our meal in a tense silence and as we left the restaurant, I couldn't help but feel that my life had taken a dramatic turn. The challenges ahead would be crazy. There was no doubting that much. But I knew I had to face them head-on — for Jessica, for the potential life she was carrying, and for myself.

After we reached the facility, Jessica turned to me before we entered.

“I'm heading to my room,” she said softly. Her eyes were still glistening with the remnants of her earlier tears.

“Good night,” I replied as I gave her a reassuring nod.

“Thank you, Martial,” she added. “And you’re right. You’re no Dan Moore. You’re better.”

We hugged tightly and she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek before walking away.

I headed to my room and my mind churned with everything that had happened. Once inside, I closed the door and collapsed onto my bed. I grabbed a pillow, pressed it to my face, and let out a muffled scream. It was the only way for me to release the pent-up frustration and fear that had been building up inside me.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still as I lay there and my screams faded into the silence of the room. I knew that things were only going to get more complicated from here, but I also knew that I had to stay strong. The next day, I woke up feeling the heaviness of the news Jessica had shared with me.

I had barely slept.

All I could think about was the future. I was exhausted but I had to push through. Training waited for no one.

As I joined the team for warm-ups, Coach Flynn approached me.

“Martial, can I see you in my office for a moment?”

‘Not this again,’ I thought as my heart raced. ‘Did Coach Flynn somehow know about Jessica’s pregnancy?’

I followed him to his office as my brain worked a number on me with worst-case scenarios. When I walked in, I saw Caleb Scott already seated and staring at the floor.

Coach Flynn got straight to the point.

“Sit down, Martial,” he said as he gestured to the chair next to Caleb.

“I have some important news. Tama Rangi is out. He tore his ACL and won’t be medically cleared for the upcoming matches.”

The news hit hard. Tama’s injury was serious. Coach Flynn continued, “Caleb, you’re now the official Super Welterweight. Martial, you’re moving up to Backup 1.”

Coach looked between the two of us.

“I know there have been issues between you two. I need you both to clear it up and focus. We are getting closer to the fights, and we can’t afford any distractions.”

We shook hands, but Caleb avoided eye contact. Still, even though the tension was thick, we both understood we had to move forward.

Training that day was brutal. I pushed through my exhaustion in a bid to prove myself. After the session, I noticed Jessica training with the women’s Super Flyweights and Super Bantamweights.

She looked over and gave me a small smile. It was a brief moment of solace in my chaotic day. We had plans to see an offsite doctor that evening and it couldn’t come any sooner.

By the time the sessions were over, Jessica and I were both anxious to confirm what we already knew to be true.

We walked into the cold, sterile embrace of the doctor’s office. The room was uncomfortably bright — illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights that buzzed faintly in the silence. The walls were painted a pale, unremarkable grey and adorned with framed certificates along with anatomy charts that seemed to watch over us. A faint smell of antiseptic hung in the air.

Jessica sat nervously on the examination bed and its crinkling paper sheet rustled beneath her shifting weight. She was dressed in a loose sweatshirt and leggings, and her hair was tied back in a hurried ponytail. Her hands fidgeted in her lap and she trembled slightly as she avoided eye contact with me. I could see every emotion run through her — fear, apprehension, sadness, shame, even a little disgust… maybe in me. Maybe I was reading too much into it. I sat beside her and perched awkwardly on a cold, metal chair that groaned under my weight. My elbows rested on my knees as I tried to steady my breathing.

The medical equipment in the room made weird ticking noises that grated on me and the monitors and tools lining the counter to the side added this feeling of clinical detachment to what felt like the most personal and life-altering moment of our lives. My heart was off to the races again as I looked toward the closed door. I knew that the answers waiting on the other side would change everything.

After what felt like an eternity, the door creaked open and the doctor stepped in. He was a middle-aged man with a pointy nose, salt-and-pepper hair, sharp glasses that reflected the harsh overhead lights, and a clipboard tucked under his arm. His white coat looked like he had just ironed it before he walked in and he had this calm authority about him.

He walked toward us with steps that felt a little too purposeful for how I had been feeling about the whole situation. His eyes scanned the room before settling on Jessica. He cleared his throat and he began.

“Well, I have the results,” he said. “Jessica, the tests confirm it — you’re pregnant.”

Jessica let out a shaky breath and her eyes welled up with fresh tears. She lowered her head into her hands and her shoulders trembled as the reality of his words sank in. I felt my own stomach drop and the gravity of the situation hit me like a tidal wave. I leaned back in my chair and scrambled to make sense of what I had just heard.

The doctor paused for a moment and gave us time to absorb the news. Then, with a slight smile, he turned to me.

“And you must be Martial Wilson,” he said. “Congratulations.”

His words caught me off guard. I blinked and tried to make sense of what he had just said.

“What? Why?” I asked.

The doctor raised an eyebrow and was clearly surprised by my question. He adjusted his glasses and let out a faint sigh as if the answer should have been obvious.

“Well, you’re the father,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Why else would you be here?”

The words hung in the air. I knew it. Jess knew it. The doctor knew it. But hearing it said out loud was like a punch to the gut. It was heavy and unshakable. My heart skipped a beat, and I instinctively leaned forward in my chair.

“How… how do you know that?” I stammered.

The question slipped out before I could stop myself and I could feel Jess’s eyes burning a hole in the side of my head almost as soon as they left my lips.

“Well, we have all of your DNA on file. A simple cervical swab from Miss Lee was able to provide us with enough trace sloughing of the embryo to give us that answer,” the doctor replied.

“Look, I’m no doctor,” I said. “But is that even possible?”

“Not anywhere outside Fight Island, but our technology is superior.”

I stared at him and tried to piece together what this meant for me and for Jessica. For everything. It felt like the walls of the room were closing in, but the cold metal of the chair beneath me was grounding me to a reality I wasn’t ready to face.

Jessica sat silently on the hospital bed with her hands gripping the edges of the crinkling paper sheet. Her tear-streaked face turned toward me and I could see that her eyes were searching mine for some kind of reassurance. I reached out and placed a hand over hers and, in an instant, that little bit of contact steadied both of us in the moment.

“Pregnant,” I whispered again.

The word felt so foreign and heavy in my mouth.

“Yes,” the doctor confirmed as his voice softened slightly. “And while this is undoubtedly overwhelming, I recommend you both start preparing. Parenthood isn’t something you can delay or ignore — it’s happening now, Martial Wilson.”

I nodded numbly and felt my fingers tightening around Jessica’s hand. The room seemed quieter now.

This wasn’t just another fight I could train for or a challenge I could overcome with strategy. This was life — raw and unfiltered. And it was happening to us.

The doctor handed us a pamphlet filled with a bunch of information about pregnancy, prenatal vitamins, nutrition, parenting, and the months to come. I barely glanced at it. My eyes were fixed on Jessica, who was staring down at the bed sheet as if trying to make sense of the moment.

As the doctor began to leave, I found my voice again.

“Doctor,” I said — stopping him at the door. “Please, can we keep this private? Just between us?”

He turned back and his expression was stern but not unkind.

“That’s not my job nor is it my call to make,” he replied. “Still, WAR has strict guidelines about disclosing situations like this. If you don’t report it yourselves, you could face serious consequences — up to and including elimination from the competition. You are both adults, you will have to handle it.”

“Thank you,” I replied.

His words hit me like a sledgehammer, which added another layer of weight to an already unbearable situation.

Jessica and I exchanged a look and the unspoken understanding between us was clear: we were in this together, no matter how impossible it felt.

The doctor gave us one last look before stepping out and leaving us alone in the room. The silence was deafening and broken only by Jessica’s soft sobs as I held her hand tightly in mine.

“We’ll figure this out,” I whispered. “Together. It’s going to be okay.”

Jessica hesitated, her gaze shifting away as if searching for an answer in the distance. Then, almost in a whisper, she asked, “How can you be so sure?”

“Because we didn’t come this far just to come this far. We’ve got this,” I said.

Jessica looked up at me, and in that moment, I knew one thing for certain: no matter how unprepared I felt, I wasn’t going to let her face this alone. We stepped out of the hospital and the night air was warm. I was grateful for it because it wrapped around us like a heavy blanket.

An autonomous taxi was already waiting at the curb and Jessica climbed in first. She was so quiet and drained. I followed close behind and as soon as I sat down, she leaned into me almost immediately and rested her head against my chest. I instinctively put my arm around her and held her close. I could only imagine what was going through her mind. She had to carry this life. She wouldn’t get a moment to just disconnect from the situation and just think. She was living and breathing it…literally.

She felt so small and so fragile in that moment and I didn’t know if it was for her comfort or mine, but I didn’t let go.

The taxi moved soundlessly through the streets and glided smoothly toward the Team New Zealand facility located on West Fight Island.

Outside the windows, West Fight Island came alive with its usual energy. The city was bursting with this electric atmosphere that seemed almost surreal in contrast to the heavy silence inside the car. Neon lights bathed the streets in these insane hues of blue and pink that rebounded off the towering skyscrapers that disappeared into the clouds above. Massive holographic billboards floated above and cycled through advertisements.

The streets were alive.

Crowds of fans and tourists filled the sidewalks, but their laughter and chatter sounded on the night air in such a way that made me feel like I was on the outside again. They were free to come and go as they pleased. I was strapped to this contract and I was bound by its terms. I was only here for however long I was useful to the organizations that kept this place turning. My thoughts were rattled by the scents though and they were a welcome distraction. Food vendors lined the streets with their stalls glowing softly under string lights. That distinct smell of sizzling meat and exotic spices wafted through the car every time we passed. Well, it was a pleasant distraction for me, at least.

For Jessica…

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” she said as she hit the emergency stop button a few miles before we made it to the facility.

She clambered out of the taxi and barfed all over the street beside the car. Passers-by gasped and gagged as they ran from the over-splash.

A group of people gathered around a street performer on one corner and were completely oblivious to what was going on with us. He strummed a guitar and his music carried a soulful rhythm that mingled with the distant hum of voices and the occasional cheer from a nearby bar. It would have been the perfect night under any other circumstance

“Oh no, Jess,” I said as I bounded out of the car toward her. “Are you ok?”

‘Thank you for using e-cabs!’ the animatronic voice blared from our taxi and drove away.

“No! Wait! Come back!” I shouted after it as I realized I had left my phone on the backseat. But it just kept driving.

“I’m sorry,” Jessica blubbered as she blushed in embarrassment and began to cry again.

“Hey, no,” I said as I ran back to comfort her. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“No, I’m not!” she wailed. “I’m a mess!”

“Okay. And that’s fine. Let’s just go be a mess somewhere else, okay?”

“So, you’re saying that I am a mess?” Jessica cried.

“Oh, brother. Let’s get another one,” I said as I hailed down another cab. We were right near the Team New Zealand facility, but that wasn’t why I wanted one. I wanted to file an emergency with the company to bring my phone back. I thanked my lucky stars that I caught the cab number as it sped off earlier and hopped in the new taxi.

When we got in, instead of inputting our destination, I pressed the help button and within minutes I could see our first taxi travelling up to meet us. I got my phone from the first taxi, got back into the second one, and entered the address. Then our second taxi started driving off to the facility. I stared out the window and tried to make sense of it all, but the more I looked at the world outside, the more disconnected I felt from it.

As we approached the entrance to the Team New Zealand facility, the city’s vibrant life faded behind us and was replaced by an eerie calm. The facility was tucked away in a secluded area. Its high walls and towering gates stood as an imposing barrier between the outside world and the fighters within.

The towering structure came into full view with its sleek design glowing faintly against the night sky. This was supposed to be the place where dreams were built and where fighters like me came to shape their futures. But right now, it felt like just another part of the strange, uncharted world we had found ourselves in.

Suddenly, the taxi slowed to a halt. A small device mounted at the security checkpoint had overridden the car’s controls and forced it to stop. Two guards stepped forward. Their expressions were professional and alert. One held a sleek tablet-like device, which he used to assume full control of the taxi. The vehicle’s lights dimmed slightly as it synced with the facility’s secure network.

“Identity confirmation required,” the guard said with his voice sharp but routine. He glanced at the display on his device before addressing us. “Martial Wilson and Jessica Lee?”

“Yes,” I replied.

The guard nodded and tapped a command into his tablet. The taxi jerked slightly as the gates hissed open. The massive steel barriers slid apart to reveal the sprawling grounds as the taxi moved forward under their control and weaved its way toward the residential wing.

I had never noticed just how massive the facility really was. It stretched across acres of perfectly maintained grounds. Neatly trimmed trees and softly lit pathways framed the main structures. Glass, steel, and neon accents dominated the architecture. It had seemed so inviting before. Now it seemed like a place where I would meet an unceremonious end to my dreams. It felt strict and clinical — almost cold even.

The taxi finally came to a smooth stop under the overhang at the residential wing’s main entrance. Jessica had fallen asleep during the last few miles of the ride and I knew she must have been losing sleep over this. Her face, even in sleep, looked peaceful despite the weight of the evening. For a moment, I just watched her and took in the way the soft light from outside highlighted her delicate features. There was something undeniably beautiful about her in that moment — a quiet strength beneath the exhaustion.

I hesitated to disturb her, but I leaned in slightly and said softly, “We’re here.”

Her eyes fluttered open and they were so hazy with sleep as she shifted slightly. “Already?” she murmured drowsily.

“Yeah,” I said as I smiled gently. “Let me help you.”

I slid out of the car first and reached back to steady her as she stepped out.

The lobby was as sleek as the rest of the facility. Polished marble floors reflected the ambient lighting above and the air smelled faintly of citrus and ozone — clean, modern, and sterile. The halls stretched out in either direction and their quiet emptiness amplified all of my thoughts.

I led Jessica toward her room and our footsteps echoed softly in the stillness. When we reached her door, I hesitated for a second. I was totally unsure of what to say or do. What does one even say in these situations? It wasn’t like we were official or anything and definitely wasn’t as if we had planned this. It was all so surreal. My chest felt tight and my mind just wouldn’t stop replaying everything we had just learned.

Jessica turned to face me and her tired eyes met mine. For a moment, the impact of the day seemed to melt away. It was replaced by something softer…something unspoken.

“I’ll be okay,” she said quietly tenderly. It was a complete 180 from how she had been reacting before her taxi nap. She stepped closer and her hand brushed against mine. “I just need some time.”

Before I could respond, she leaned in and her lips met mine in a soft, lingering kiss. The world seemed to pause. It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a promise. It was the same reassurance that I had given her that we’d face this together. When she pulled back, her hand stayed on mine for a moment. Her touch was warm and grounding.

“Thank you,” she whispered. “For everything.”

I nodded, but I was unable to find the words to respond. She gave me a small smile and then turned and slipped into her room, with the door closing quietly behind her.

I stood there for a moment just staring at the door. If anyone happened to be walking past at that moment, they might have thought I was either on something or some kind of weird stalker kid. I just stood there — rooted to the spot.

I heard footsteps coming and they were the only thing to snap me back to reality. So, I decided to head back to my room. As I made my way, the faint sounds in the facility’s corridors did little to settle the storm in my mind. Just as I rounded a corner, I nearly walked straight into Kieran Fitzpatrick, Team New Zealand’s Super Featherweight. His wiry frame and sharp, quick movements always reminded me of how lightning-fast he was in training.

“Martial!” he said as he caught me before I could pass by. “Hey, how are you holding up?”

I forced a small smile, even though I wanted nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. “I’m alright, thanks, Kieran. How about you?”

“I’m good, mate,” he replied. His thick accent carried a warmth that made it hard not to feel slightly better. “I just wanted to say — you’ve really impressed me in training. You’ve got some serious skills, man. Honestly, you’re a natural.”

“Thanks, Kieran,” I said with my voice quieter than usual. I appreciated the words, but they barely registered against everything else.

He must’ve picked up on my subdued tone because his expression softened. He hesitated before speaking again. “Look, I know you’re probably feeling it like the rest of us. Tama’s injury… it’s been rough on the whole team. But you know, we’ve got to stay strong for him. He’d want that, yeah?”

I blinked at him. I was caught off guard by the assumption but also relieved that he didn’t pry deeper into what was really going on. I nodded and let the excuse carry the conversation.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “Tama’s a fighter. He’d want us to keep pushing forward.”

“That’s the spirit,” Kieran said as he jabbed me lightly in the stomach. “We’ll get through this, mate. Just got to stick together.”

“Thanks, Kieran,” I said again and offered him a more genuine smile this time. “I appreciate it.”

“No worries,” he said.

He gave me a reassuring nod before continuing down the hallway.

As I walked the last stretch to my room, I let out a small sigh of relief. Kieran’s kindness was genuine and I knew he meant well, but the guilt of hiding what was really going on weighed heavily on me. Still, it wasn’t something I could share — not yet.

I headed back to my room and my muscles finally ached for the first time since training ended. It was almost as if the adrenaline of everything had been keeping me glued together and now that I could breathe, it was all coming undone. My mind was in turmoil and I felt like I was carrying the entire world on my shoulders. As soon as I walked in, I collapsed onto my bed and stared blankly at the ceiling.

I pulled out my phone and saw a missed call from my mum.

Normally, we talked every day, but right now, I couldn’t bring myself to have a conversation with her. I couldn’t lie to her. I knew I’d have to. I just didn’t know how to handle anything yet. Jessica’s pregnancy, the threat of disqualification, the pressure of the upcoming fight, and Coach’s eye being kept on me at all times felt like it might become too much to bear. I knew I had to keep pushing forward, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I had already messed everything up before it had even begun. I thought about the WARcoins that I had been given and how that was just the tip of the iceberg for a fighter like me.

‘Have I thrown it all away?’ I thought.

I stared at my phone and my mum’s number stared back at me. The thought of her, of how much she had sacrificed for me to get here, made my chest tighten. She always believed in me and supported me in everything I did — even if she didn’t always like or understand it. The idea of disappointing her was unbearable but I couldn’t talk to her right that second.

I couldn’t tell her about Jessica or about the fact that my dream was hanging by a thread. I put my phone down and let out a long, frustrated sigh.

Sitting there, I realized that everything from here on out was about to change. I had to focus, to regroup, and to figure out a way to navigate this mess. I couldn’t let my personal life derail the opportunity I had worked so hard for. So, I took a deep breath and stood up to walk over to the window and think things through.

The view of Fight Island was stunning. I had to find a way to stay here. I had to find a way to pull myself together, for my mum, for Jessica, and most importantly, for myself.

I spent the next few hours trying to calm my thoughts. I did some light stretching and tried to ease the tension in my muscles. I thought about the training sessions and about Coach Flynn’s words. More than all of it, I thought about the upcoming match against Team Ireland.

The pressure was immense, but I had to remind myself why I was here. This was my shot to prove myself and to make a name for myself. I couldn’t afford to let anything or anyone distract me from that goal. Eventually, I found some semblance of calm and I decided to call my mum back. I knew that I couldn’t avoid her forever and I didn’t need her worrying on top of everything else. The phone rang a few times before she picked up.

“Martial, sweetheart, how are you?” she asked with a voice so warm and comforting that it made me want to immediately cry and tell her everything.

“I’m okay, Mum,” I lied and tried to keep my voice steady. “Just been really busy with training and everything.”

“I understand, darling. I miss you every day, you know, but I’m so proud of you,” she said.

“I know, Mum. You always tell me that.”

“Because I always mean it,” she replied.

Hearing her say that made my heart ache.

“And I miss you too, Mum. I’ll call you again soon, okay?”

“Alright, take care of yourself, Martial. I love you,” she said.

“I love you too, Mum.”

I hung up and sat there for a moment as the silence washed over me. I had to keep moving forward, no matter what. I had to stay strong and focused. Everything was about to change, but I had to be ready to face whatever came next.

“I’m sorry, Mum,” I said to the empty room as a single tear rolled down my cheek.