Disclaimer – Tyler Durdan/Jack does not belong to me. He is the property of David Fincher as is the film Fight Club. This is just for entertainment; no money is being made from this.
Title – If This Is Your First Night, You Have To Fight
Rating – R (violence and language)
Summary – A new member awaits his turn.
If This Is Your First Night, You Have To Fight
I hear it before I see it. The men, all shirtless and sweaty, circled around two of their own, watching. Like vultures waiting for weaker of the two to give up so they can begin again with a fresh victim. I can't see the fight itself, by from the sounds, I can somewhat ascertain what is going on. A loud smacking sound and then a rubbery noise as someone hits the floor hard. Over the screams and cheers I can hear the one who hit the ground, 'no, no, stop." More cheers and then the crowd separates. I see them, the defeated man still lies on the cold hard ground, the victor triumphantly raising his blooded fist to the crowd.
A bright yellow flame directly next to the side of my face startled me and I quickly turned to see him lighting a cigarette. He looked questioningly at me for a moment, sucking in and then releasing the thick white smoke from his cigarette. I knew it was him, how could I not heard of Mr. Durdan, he was the name of everyone's lips. His eyes grew smaller and suddenly he threw down his cigarette and clamped his hand on my shoulder.
"New guy, let's go."
I watched as he walked out into the makeshift ring made of cardboard and masking tape. My first fight was to be with Mr. Durdan? The men around me were giving me mild shoves with their elbows, this was somewhat of an honor, Mr. Durdan never fought new fish. I started to step towards the ring and then someone close grabbed me.
"Hey man, don't forget the rules," he said lightly pulling on my shirt.
I nodded and quickly undid my belt, pulling my shirt from the waist of my pants. I almost ripped the tie off, I was so eager to get this started. As my shirt came off and I bent to undo my shoes I thought of the important research paper due tomorrow. My company needed it in order to better discover where the people where going to for clothing, and why they weren't coming to my company. Fuck it. I received many heavy pats on the back as I reached the ring where Mr. Durdan was already waiting for me.
From looking at him, I doubted that he had fought tonight. His corporate pants were not dirty or ripped, his hair was still styled and only a few beads of sweat were visible on his thin, pale body. I did not let his lean appearance fool me for one second. Everyone said that he was like someone else when he was in the ring, a totally different person. As the men closed in a circle around us, I could feel my heart beating faster with each passing breath. I watched as Mr. Durdan came closer to me and before I could react, I felt his hard fist come into contact with my face.
I was immediately knocked backwards. I wasn't caught like I was expected to be by all those hands behind me, no, they moved out of the way so that I fell to the hard floor. No mercy for the new guy. I quickly righted myself and moved back towards Mr. Durdan who was standing with a strange little smirk on his face. I reached up and felt the sore flesh on my face then made my move. I should have known better than to try this, Mr. Durdan knew what he was doing. As I lunged towards him, his left leg darted out and kicked me square in my kneecap. That hurt. I felt myself going down again, and when my back hit that floor again, something changed within me. I was not the same man who awoke every morning to a fancy cup of expensive coffee. I was not the man who drove that silver Porsche to the same huge building every damn day into order to proceed with more heartless and soul-snatching work. I was not the guy who no matter how much money I made, no one knew my name because there where 10 million others just like me. No, I was not the same man.
I briskly pulled myself back up and ran at Mr. Durdan again, this time I moved out of the way as he tried again to knock me back with a kick of his long leg. Something in him changed as well, perhaps he realized that the fight had truly begun. We began a dance of sorts, circling around each other, firsts raised, waiting for the other to strike. For once in my life. I took the first step. I took control. I thrust my fist out towards his face and relished in the satisfying feeling of his warm flesh underneath my knuckles. I did not have long to do so however. Almost before I pulled my fist back towards me, his clenched hand came into contact with my stomach, hard. I reeled back, stunned by the pain. Never in my life had I felt something like this, and I knew I would never get enough of it.
Swallowing the pain within and coated on my skin, I charged at him again and tackled his legs. He was far to wise and skilled too ever fall for such a simple attack. I felt his firm hands on my shoulders as he drove me passed him and straight towards the floor that glistened with blood and perspiration. I didn't want that kind of pain, no, I wanted pain form him, from another human being, I wanted to know that someone at least knew I existed. He laughed at me, I could have sworn he read this from me, perhaps it was the look in my misty eyes, perhaps not. He just stood there, waiting for me to try again, this time, I would not fail myself.
I charged him again and I literally threw myself upon him. He went down, taking me with him. I was on top of him, straddling him and I was in control, I struck him with my fist again into his chest, again into his stomach. I provoked him, I angered him, I defended myself. I told myself all these things to deny the fact that I just wanted to be hurt. My wish was granted as he thrust his left hip up with a sudden spur of energy and knocked me off of him. I was on my back then and now he was the one the leaned over me. I felt his hand painfully clasp my hair before he lifted my head up and slammed it back onto the ground. Not so forceful as to knock me out, but pretty damn excruciating.
Before he could do it again, I reached for the hand that was holding my hair and grabbed his wrist, biting into his flesh quickly and painfully with my nails. He released me and I quickly pulled my legs up, placed them on his chest and pushed with all my strength. He was gone, away from me. I stood up to find that he had not yet done so. The enthusiastic roar of the crowd filled my ears. Yes, adoration, all of this, for me. As he turned to face me from his place upon the cardboard, I ran at him. As I tried to fall upon him again, both of his hands reached up to clasp my upper forearms. His foot pressed on my belly, he flipped me over him.
He stood and kicked me fiercely right between my ribs. I could not stop the cry of pain that rose from my throat. As he lowered himself upon me once again, like a tiger preparing to gash the throat of its victim, I knew I would offer no more resistance. His fist assaulted my face once, twice, three times, a cracking sound was heard on the forth, but I didn't try and make him stop. He dug his knee into my stomach, into my groin, in order to make it look like I cared to began to fail my legs about wildly. I watched as he raised his fist high into the air was this it, the deathblow?
His hard knuckles almost directly struck my nose. The world of this dirty and damp basement began to swirl. I tasted my own salty blood somewhere within me but suddenly, I couldn't think where. I knew that if he hit me again like that I would lose conscious. With all the strength I could muster I spoke.
"Stop, stop," I managed with a raise of my hand to block my face.
Mr. Durdan rose off of me and reached down towards my limp body with an outstretched hand. As I took it and he pulled me into a surprisingly warm embrace I focused on those wonderful cheers around me. For me and for Mr. Durdan. It was heaven. The sound of his voice brought me away from all of that and back to him, back to earth.
"Welcome to Fight Club."