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capeandcowllogs2011-02-23 06:53 pm
chipsfalling.livejournal.com) wrote in capeandcowllogs2011-02-23 06:53 pm
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WHO: Tyler Durden, the Narrator and any potential members of Fight Club.
WHERE: The basement of a trashy bar.
WHEN: Sunday night.
WARNINGS: GUYS IT'S FIGHT CLUB WHATCHU EXPECT.
SUMMARY: It's Fight Club.
FORMAT: Tag in with whatever you please.
Fight Club happens in the basement of the trashiest bar in the seediest part of town. The concrete floor is stained with blood and spit, and the room is packed with men with punched out faces and bare feet, and Tyler Durden stands in the middle of them, even though he should be walking the perimeter.
This is starting from scratch. This is growing the Ebola virus in a petrie dish. This is laying the foundation. This is the beginning, and Tyler knows how this is going to end.
"Gentleman!" He shouts the word over the chatter of voices, and they fall silent. "Before we start, I'm going to go over the rules, so listen the fuck up and pay attention."
It's quiet. Tyler's footsteps are loud on the concrete, an even, slow rhythm in time with his words.
"The first rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club."
There's a pause, and Tyler holds up a hand, ticking off each option as he says, "The third rule of Fight Club is that if someone says stop, goes limp, or taps out, the fight is fucking over, and you stop."
His voice is firm and even, just loud enough to be heard as he moves within the center of the circle. The light gleams off the sunglasses dangling from the collar of his t-shirt, casting shadows on his face.
"Fourth rule, two guys to a fight. Fifth rule, one fight at a fucking time. Sixth rule, only weapons you get are your fucking fists. Nothing else. No shirt, no shoes, no weapons, whether the weapon is a metal pipe or superstrength or whatever freaky shit you can do. You are the same decaying organic matter as everyone else, and we are all part of the same compost pile. And the seventh rule, fights go on as long as they fucking have to, even if that means waiting for-fucking-ever. Got it?"
There's murmuring. This started out with just locals, normal men sitting in bars. But over time, people with fucking superpowers started showing up, and Tyler didn't turn them away. He turns a circle, looking at the expectant faces, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face as he finishes, "And the eight rule? If this is your fight night at Fight Club, well. You have to fight."
ooc | tag yourselves in. fight club contains a whole mess of non-powered npcs, and is open to any men in the City who are of legal age to get into a bar. ladies aren't allowed. :C basically just make a thread for your character, and whoever wants to fight that character will tag into it. SOUND GOOD? GOOD.
WHERE: The basement of a trashy bar.
WHEN: Sunday night.
WARNINGS: GUYS IT'S FIGHT CLUB WHATCHU EXPECT.
SUMMARY: It's Fight Club.
FORMAT: Tag in with whatever you please.
Fight Club happens in the basement of the trashiest bar in the seediest part of town. The concrete floor is stained with blood and spit, and the room is packed with men with punched out faces and bare feet, and Tyler Durden stands in the middle of them, even though he should be walking the perimeter.
This is starting from scratch. This is growing the Ebola virus in a petrie dish. This is laying the foundation. This is the beginning, and Tyler knows how this is going to end.
"Gentleman!" He shouts the word over the chatter of voices, and they fall silent. "Before we start, I'm going to go over the rules, so listen the fuck up and pay attention."
It's quiet. Tyler's footsteps are loud on the concrete, an even, slow rhythm in time with his words.
"The first rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is you do not talk about Fight Club."
There's a pause, and Tyler holds up a hand, ticking off each option as he says, "The third rule of Fight Club is that if someone says stop, goes limp, or taps out, the fight is fucking over, and you stop."
His voice is firm and even, just loud enough to be heard as he moves within the center of the circle. The light gleams off the sunglasses dangling from the collar of his t-shirt, casting shadows on his face.
"Fourth rule, two guys to a fight. Fifth rule, one fight at a fucking time. Sixth rule, only weapons you get are your fucking fists. Nothing else. No shirt, no shoes, no weapons, whether the weapon is a metal pipe or superstrength or whatever freaky shit you can do. You are the same decaying organic matter as everyone else, and we are all part of the same compost pile. And the seventh rule, fights go on as long as they fucking have to, even if that means waiting for-fucking-ever. Got it?"
There's murmuring. This started out with just locals, normal men sitting in bars. But over time, people with fucking superpowers started showing up, and Tyler didn't turn them away. He turns a circle, looking at the expectant faces, a slow, lazy smile spreading across his face as he finishes, "And the eight rule? If this is your fight night at Fight Club, well. You have to fight."
ooc | tag yourselves in. fight club contains a whole mess of non-powered npcs, and is open to any men in the City who are of legal age to get into a bar. ladies aren't allowed. :C basically just make a thread for your character, and whoever wants to fight that character will tag into it. SOUND GOOD? GOOD.
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When the speech is over, he glances around the room. Survey of the land.]
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IF YOU'D LIKE TO FIGHT TYLER DURDEN...
This is perfection. The most perfect start to everything he could have asked for. ]
YOU KNOW I'D LIKE TO FIGHT TYLER DURDEN
DOHOHO.
It's a nice ass.Tyler just looks amused. He flicks his cigarette away before stepping up, toe to toe with Hiei. The guy's small. Tiny. Tyler wonders if he's even old enough to be here. ]
Take the first shot.
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