Tornado (18+)

26- Tez

These last eight days have passed by in a blur of eat, sleep, train, repeat. With the mounting pressure of the Russo fight and the immediate spotlight it's shining on me, I've barely had time to process how my life already seems world's away from what it was a week ago.

I thought Brent might cancel my undercard gig in London so I can concentrate on my training. Fat chance of that. He sees this as the perfect opportunity for me to get back in the cage and give my floundering MMA career the kick up the arse he claims it needs.

He's also assured me this event isn't a big deal. It's being held in an old warehouse in Soho with portacabins on site to use as temporary dressing rooms. Brent says that only a couple of hundred tickets have sold so it won't be a big crowd.

I'm not sure if I should be pleased that I'll be fighting to a smaller crowd or insulted that none of his headliners are known enough to rally any interest.

Either way, it hasn't stopped the sickness steamrolling its way through me for the last hour. And as Jackson finishes bandaging my hands, another wave hits me forcing me to rush off to the gents again.

The guy I'm fighting, Garrett Masters, is fairly big, maybe fifteen to twenty pounds heavier than me, but his downfall is he's slow. Which gives me a little confidence in thinking that I could beat him.

"You're never going to make it past the first round if you keep going like this. You're dehydrating yourself," Jackson says somewhere behind me.

I grab a handful of toilet roll and wipe my face, flushing it down the loo along with everything I've eaten today. "I'm nervous," I say following him back into the main room of the portacabin and taking a seat. I drop my head to my knees to hold off another bout that's brewing.

"Drink this," Jackson orders holding out a bottle of coconut water. "I don't want you going out there weak. Remember, I don't lose, and neither do you."

I take it with thanks and screw off the lid, swilling down half the bottle in one go. "Eat," he demands, handing me a couple of protein bars. "These will help."

I rip the foil packet and take a bite. The bars taste like dry cardboard but they're packed with all the nutrients you need for an energy boost. "Any last-minute tips before I go out there?" I ask between mouthfuls.

An easy and relaxed smile plays on his lips. "Make the chubby shit come for you but stay out of his reach as much as possible. Nothing will tire him quicker than him having to do all the chasing."

I nod and rip open the another protein bar, feeling slightly better already.

"In the second round, you start using your power. Drive your fists into every legal part of him, he'll be too tired to block. And then by the third, you unleash the Tornado and knock him the fuck out."

"A knockout? Not a submission?"

"A win is a win regardless of how it's achieved. The choice is yours how you end him, but I know you can take it past a submission, Terence."

A knock at the door cuts our conversation and when I look up, I see Paisley coming inside looking as nervous as I feel.

"You have five minutes," Jackson says as he leaves us to a few moments of privacy.

She rushes towards me, her arms outstretched for an embrace. "How are you feeling?"

I slam her body to mine and kiss under her ear, breathing in her familiar and comforting fragrance. "Terrified. Do you think I can win this?"

Her arms slide around my neck and she looks up at me doe-eyed. "I have every faith you will."

She leans closer to kiss me, but I pull away not wanting to after being sick. That's just gross. She rolls her eyes and brushes her palms over my chest instead. "Just think, win or lose, we'll be able to make up properly tonight, and I'll finally be able to replace Viktor Vibro with the real thing."