“WHAT.. IS…”

“THE..”

“FIRST…”

“FUCKN…”

“RULE!?”

In between his words all you could hear was the thudding of fist against face, knuckle against bone. His opponent's facial features smashed; bloodied would be an understatement. More like rearranged, touched up with a brick, high fived with a steel chair, whatever metaphor you wanted to simply say this guy was royally fucked and would be chomping on his breakfast after a hospital stay without three of his front teeth.

The off street basement was filled with hopefuls, but not in the way others outside might be; others that were still stuck in the chase a fluffy bullshit sedative pill of a dream that the government and law enforcers were ramming down their throats. Instead, they were full of something much more liberating – freedom.

Their hope was a freedom devoid of ALL hope, as they’d given up on the empty promises and constant oppression. These men and women were done with the bullshit. Done with the lies and sales gimmicks. Done with the promises of a better tomorrow while today we bend you over. Done with all the force feeding, the power structures and even the criminal enterprises, the foundations of a system that had the exact same thing in common; they used you, abused you and tried to wrap it in cotton candy. And it almost worked. Almost.

Those that made their way into this little gathering off the well-worn streets did so looking for liberation. They sought something different, something new. They wanted that feeling, that rush of being able to say fuck you and fuck off without being reprimanded. They wanted a sanctuary to unleash all that pent up ass hurt from a system that liked to give it but wasn’t much about taking it.

This was a place you strolled into to be whoever the fuck you wanted and do whatever the fuck you wanted, and all were welcome.. as long as they followed the rules. Not the same type of bullshit social rules and laws you’d find outside this place trying to own you. They existed instead to free you.

Two men began dragging the body away of the last hopeful who tried to break those rules.

Ironic, no? He broke a rule, and he was broke in return. You could say the system did this just the same, and these guys here were no better. But when you’re here to fight, how can you argue against getting your ass beat? The punishment fit the crime because it was the same stick he carried in here that he ended up getting himself beat with. He should’ve just followed the fuckn rules.

The charismatic individual who had just finished beating the piss out of Mr lippy, stepped forward and began speaking aloud.

"And here we are, all standing in this basement off the streets looking for that something, that liberation, that freedom from feeling like you need to be a certain way, a product, a neatly packaged and groomed yes sir thank you mam. Well fuck him and fuck her too! And before you step up for your fight you best remember one thing…"

“First rule, you do not talk about fight club.”

“Second rule, you DO NOT talk about fight club.”

“Third rule, if someone says stop or goes limp, taps out, the fight is over.”

“Fourth rule, only two guys to a fight.”

“Fifth rule, one fight at a time.”

“Sixth rule, no shirts, no shoes.”

“Seventh rule, fights will go on as long as they have to.”

“Eighth rule, if this is your first night at fight club, you HAVE to fight.”

You get nudged forward to join the next fight against an unknown opponent, who just like you is looking for some heavy handed liberation. With a rowdy pack of onlookers cheering you on, what do you do? Do you go back outside and kneel? Or do you stand the fuck up for yourself and give this mother fucker a goddamn beating!?

I watch with his jaw open as the body is dragged away from the circle and he looks at there leader. But I was here to become part of this crazy club and he needed to do something to get noticed. I look around for the perfect victim of an fight, that would sway on my side. I look through many people, to tall, to muscular, and it was more difficult to find an match for him. Then he found it an medium sized guy, with long blonde hair, and he had an slim build. BunBun squeezes through the crowd and finally gets into the middle.

I jump out and walks right into the middle. I point over to the blonde man and I issue him a challenge to a fight right here and right fucking now. The crowd erupts into cheers and screams. Axel points to the blonde guy and point in the middle of the circle. I begin to circle him as he circles with me. He gets into an stance where he leans forward with his right hand forward and his left hand beheind his right. I go into some sort of stance which I saw in a movie. He comes at me with an straight right which snaps into my left cheek as my head pops back a little. I follow his punch with an uppercut into his lower torso and he crumbles a little. I run over and go for an tackle as I fall above him and he cushions the ground beneath me. The blonde throws his arms around my head and I try to get out and finally force my head out. I then bring my head down straight to his forehead and then headbutt multiple times after. I then roll back and get up. The blonde is still on the ground and he puts his legs out so I cannot scramble on him. He checks me with both of his legs and I then decide to wait till he gets up. A small gash is in the middle of his two eyebrows. But it is not big enough to cause him any annoyance. We then start to circle before he goes for an front kick which I easily go beheind. I see a opening and I throw an kick to his leg which was exposed after he missed and it connects to his thigh. 

He crumbles and falls to the side and hits the ground beneath him. I then go over hum and throw down multiple strikes till someone gets in between us. I am not sure who it is maybe his best friend but it's an taller man who is wearing an falt cap. He goes for me before Axel comes in and breaks it up. Back off if you want to take him on, you need to challenge him like everyone else here. I sigh in relief and quickly try to move back into the crowd. But I feel an hand go onto my back and I stop in my tracks.

Mr_Jet passes through the back door of an abandoned soup kitchen with his face in awe as he reaches the entrance to the lavish BunBun fighters arena.

He waves his body guard Jasper off as he approaches BunBun to shake the mans blood stained hand. Good day to you brother BunBun he cheerily greets!

He takes a seat and has his man servant Jasper bring him some popcorn.

Axel places his hand on BunBun's back, then pats it a few times as the crowd cheer on. The rowdy bloody pool of delinquents by upper class standards are in their prime. Raw, aggressive, animalistic, it's the energy of warriors, of men being men and women being whatever the fuck they wanted. Some dames didn't want the lavish life. The high heels and pretty dresses. The make up and hair stylists. The proper social etiquette that spoke of high distinction. The fuckn surname that spoke of even higher distinction, the recognition of the bloodlines of old.

These men and women wanted what the system couldn't give them, not just freedom, but sincere happiness. An option to choose their own fates, their own destinies, and although this seemed like a throw back to the gladiator days of kill or be killed, it was much more than that. It was a revolution. A new way of showing ones face, by beating the absolute shit out of another's.

As the crowd simmered down, Axel raised BunBun's hand high in the air for the peer group to kick on once more. Fists were pumping high, extremely aggressive high fives were exchanged between soldiers, between combatants on life's battlefield. The economy had already shit itself as the 30's rolled into town, so this is what they had, a solace built on free action and free speech.

BunBun acknowledged the fight club conglomerate in return, showing his pride yet appreciation. He was a man who recognized his own fallacy even after winning the battle, like a wounded soldier with humility knowing he could've not come out with his hand raised. It was a mixture of self worth built on self respect, and a group respect dynamic built on that which held it all together, the rules.

Axel clapped and pointed back at BunBun as he starting to walk through the crowd.

"It really is that simple. If it's your first time here, you fight. You may win, you may lose, but it's between those two men and those two alone."

Axel paused, stroked his hand through his rough mane on top his scalp, then pointed in the direction of the guy that tried to go BunBun to defend the other's honour.

"You! Step up here."

Axel motions for the man to come over to him. In response the forty something father of four looked around. He looked for the reaction of his peers, who at this point were all silent, watching on. They knew the rules, as this man should've.

"Come on, don't be shy. We won't bite... much."

A low level of laughter spread through the crowd. Axel motioned again for the man to join him, waving him over.

"Do you really want me to go over to you?"

Another man close to the one being called over pushed him forward with a strong hand on his back. The push started a chain, and one after another, different people started nudging this man forward. When he reached Axel, he dropped to his knees and tore his own hat from his head, clutching it to his chest. He was fearful of the consequences of breaking the rules, and as fear struck him, he began pleading his case aloud.

"I didn't mean to. Please."

As the pleading continued it then turned into sobbing. He was literally on his knees, begging for forgiveness.

"The other was my son. He's my son. I couldn't keep watching him get beat like that. Please. Please!"

Axel put his hand down on the man's head. He patted it, then stroked his hand through his hair. His right hand eventually took a strong grip and began pulling the man by his hair to his feet, yanking him up by his bushy brown curly locks. As the man kneeling felt the tug, he complied and rose to his feet.

Now Axel and the sobbing blubbering father were standing squarely opposite one another, making direct eye contact. Axel reached his hand out and touched the man's cheek softly, then slapped the absolute shit out of it, palm open. It was very much a strong pimping' bitch slap, and forced the face being slapped to turn and look at the ground, nearly falling over.

The crowd had been silent since the father of four started his pleading, and now not even a cough could be heard. It wasn't exactly tense, either, as most gathered were quite use to the shenanigans here. They simply watched on, closely, attentively, for what would transpire.

With a show of defiance, the father clenched his fist and stood up straight. He took a step forward and looked Axel directly in the eyes. Their noses were almost touching, the man's arm clenched fist shaking at his waist by the force of it being closed. As if by some kind of motivational tool the man was slapped back from his pissant peasant mentality and into that of an animalistic fervour.

Without any further words from Axel or his direction, the man assertively pulled off his button down shirt, ripping it over his head. He aggressively threw it at Axel's feet with his brown cap following. He yanked off his undershirt, his sweat soaked singlet and it followed the same treatment. He spat to the side then turned away from Axel and faced the crowd yelling out...

"Who the fuck here wants to fight me next?"

Axel smirked as the crowd erupted again. The man who had been on his knees was now standing, strong and defiant, ready to beat a mother fucker. The only question now was, which one would step up and challenge? Which other new face would step up, step out and take life by the fuckn balls. Who would it be? Would it be you?