"Paine! Paine! Paine! Paine! Paine!"
I'm not sure if they're shouting my name or shouting for more. I'm standing, a Statue of David over a man, a man who should have been my friend, should have been my comrade. He had a kid I believe, a son. Maybe someday that son, raised by a woman, will come to fight club. Maybe he will have a chance to fight me; maybe I won't live to see that day. At the moment it doesn't matter to me, as my bruised, broken body is standing over the crumpled form of a man covered in his and my own blood. My fists burn, my arms ache, and cuts adorn my knuckles. My right eye is swollen shut (he was a lefty, I should've known that), my lips are busted, and my nose feels broken. I have a cut along the left side of my jaw, adding to many scars and bruises from past fights. None of those had been like this one. A man had died.
Finally, the shouting crowd interrupts my reverie. They all love me, they all will die for me, and they all will kill for me. Across the room, Tom catches my eye and nods. I blink in return. All that runs through my mind is this; "My name is Kendrick Paine; Tyler Durden would be proud." I don't realize I've said this aloud as the shouting intensifies.
"Here's your check sir." The waitress said as she laid the paper down in front of him. Paine and Tom were sitting in the local Great Wall Chinese Buffet, a cover for one of their fight clubs, and had just finished with their food.
"Uh, forgive her Mr. Paine sir, she's new," a male waiter said as he quickly snapped his hand out and took the check away.
"It's quite all right Lei." Kendrick said, a small smirk forming on his lips. "Leave the fortune if you would."
Lei grinned with a gleam in his blackened eye, "Of course Mr. Paine sir, we just got a new shipment of fortune cookies in today, and these should be especially filling." Lei dropped two fortune cookies onto the table for the two men and waved his hand for the waitress to leave. "Ah," Lei hesitated, "what are we going to do about the, uh, situation?"
"You leave that to me Lei, understand?" Paine replied hotly. "You just make sure there's no way anyone can get into the basement."
"Yes sir, you don't have to worry about a thing." Lei disappeared back into the kitchen. Paine turned toward his companion.
"What do you think about this? Do you think this is a good idea, killing a man? I know I'm in charge of this, and whatever I say will go, but I need your advice. What should I do?" Paine practically pleaded with his friend.
"You know I don't give a shit, I don't actually like the guy anyway, and it's his own damn fault for getting involved in something like this. I asked around the department, he volunteered for this assignment, he knows the risks. Plus, he's heard the rumors; he knows not to fuck with us." Tom said. Tom and Paine were members of the Seattle Police Department. Paine had long ago tried to get out of his boring desk job at the department by infiltrating a fight club he heard about and busting the leaders. However, his first fight happened to be against the man himself, Tyler Durden…
I hate my life. I live in a rundown apartment in the 'bad part of town', I have the shittiest desk job at the Seattle Police Department, and I pretty much have no friends. My name is Kendrick Paine.
I drink a lot, which is normal with someone who has a life like mine: meaningless. So while I was drowning myself in Kentucky Bourbon shots at one of the multiple bars I attend regularly, I overheard two guys talking about a 'fight club' starting up at a local Great Wall Chinese Buffet restaurant. I had seen reports at the station about these clubs starting up all over America, and the Police Chief wanted any found in Seattle to be crushed immediately before it became some kind of cult. So imagine my delight to hear talk of one being started here! If I could single-handedly arrest these crazy bastards, maybe I could get the field job I've always wanted!
So I casually, at least as casually as a drunken man can, asked these two gentlemen when I might be able to go to this 'fight club'. They looked at me suspiciously, and then looked at each other. The one on the left shrugged and said, "The man himself is coming in tonight at the Great Wall, 9 o'clock. Ask for Lei to let you in."
"Thanks man, you're a big help." I said as I stumbled out into the street.
That night around 8:45 p.m., I arrived at the Great Wall in jeans and a black tight t-shirt to highlight my physique; I weight-lifted, wrestled, and boxed with the field officers at the department gym. I made it my goal to stay even with the guys I wanted to replace. So needless to say, I was ripped. I also had shaved my goatee off, I didn't want to look familiar in case any criminals who had been inside the station could recognize me, and I left my class ring at home. I didn't actually think I would be fighting, but I didn't want to completely destroy someone's face with my ring if I did.
So when I entered the restaurant, I found the small Asian waiter with the nametag 'Lei' and asked him where the fight club was. He looked at me like I was crazy and said, "The first rule of fight club is you do not talk about fight club."
"I mean I'm here to join man, some guys in a bar told me to come here and ask for you."
"Oh, in that case, you should have repeated the first rule to them, but you're new, so I'll let this one slide. Go on back to the washroom and open the basement staircase door. There should already be a few guys inside."
"Thanks."
Once I stepped down into that basement, I had a terrible feeling that I would never leave. Some of the guys in there already had their shirts off, and I was mistaken in thinking that my police training would help me much. These guys had muscles that I didn't even know existed, their arms and abs bulged like they were being pushed out by more muscles underneath. They all had busted or mangled noses, black eyes, bruised bodies, or all three, and there were close to twenty of them down there.
I stood in the corner by the stairs for the next fifteen minutes, waiting for something to happen. As soon as it turned 9:00, the door to the upstairs closed, and I heard two people walking down. Lei along with someone I didn't recognize. Lei went and stood with the rest of the crowd, while the other man walked straight out into the center of the room.
"My name is Tyler Durden." I knew then that this man was going to kill me; kill me and make me into a new person, a space monkey. "The first rule of fight club is you don't talk about fight club." The room was silent, the men started to grin eagerly. "The second rule of fight club is you do not talk about fight club! The third rule of fight club, if someone taps out, goes limp, or says stop, the fight is over. The fourth rule of fight club, two men to a fight. The fifth rule of fight club one fight club, one fight at a time. The sixth rule of fight club, fight with no shirt, no shoes. The seventh rule of fight club, a fight will go on as long as it has to. And the eighth rule of fight club is; if this is your first time at fight club, you have to fight." He looked me straight in the eye, and then raised one finger towards me. "I got the new guy first fight."
A rough hand grabbed me by the shoulder and pulled me into the ring that had formed around Tyler. Another pair of hands peeled my tight shirt off over my head. I started to have second thoughts about this. I had never been in a real fight with anyone outside of sparring at the station; I was sure this was nothing like that.
"Ready?" Tyler asks.
"I guess." I was finished before I started. Let me try and recap how this went down as best I can. He let me throw the first punch, I guess out of pity, so I swing underhanded into his gut as hard as I can. Tyler has a very tight, toned stomach, so my fists did jack-shit to him. Next he slams his forearm into the front of my skull, slinging my head back and forcing me to stagger back a couple of steps. His next hit was a right-handed chop to my neck, while I tried to turn and block him; his left hand formed a fist and crushed the right side of my face. You've never felt pain like a crushed cheekbone.
By then I was effectively done for this fight, but I had forgotten the third rule, so the fight kept going for a little while. I fall down onto my hands and knees, and he lands a swift kick to my ribs, causing me to flip over onto my back. He lowers himself to my face and crouches on my chest.
Pulling me up by my hair, he whispers, "Be free. I know where you work, I know what you are. You are NOT your shitty paycheck; you are NOT your worthless job. Be free. I baptize you, born again in blood and sweat and tears, go in peace." This is the last thing I remember as I see him raise his right hand and curl it into a fist.
When I awoke, the club had been over for about an hour. I could smell the copper-smell of blood in the air, with a mixture of sweat and testosterone. The man Lei was there with me, waiting for me to regain consciousness.
"Mr. Durden left this for you." He said as he handed me a slip on yellow notepaper. It read:
Kendrick Paine, I leave the Seattle Great Wall Fight Club in your hands.
You will run the fight clubs with Lei's help and you will recruit more men; you will be these men's father, their brother. Know the rules, live by them, teach them .I know who you are, you are NOT your worthless job.
"What the fuck is this? I didn't ask for this! What makes him think I can do this?" I slurred to Lei, my mouth was pretty messed up from Tyler's fist.
"If Mr. Durden says you are in charge, then you are in charge. He knows these things. But I know how things are supposed to run, so I'll be your second in command," Lei replied solemnly.
And that was the beginning of the Seattle Great Wall Fight Club.
Paine and Tom both cracked open their fortune cookies to read what fate had in store for them.
You are NOT your inscribed destiny, read Paine's.
You are NOT your pathetic career, read Tom's.
"It looks like they got everything under control." Tom said to Paine. In the year since Paine had been placed in charge of fight club, the Seattle branch had become one of the most well known in all of America. Especially when news came that Tyler Durden had died doing a major project mayhem job in some other city. Some didn't believe it, but Kendrick Paine didn't care. Tyler's death meant nothing; he was a martyr in the cause. His ideas and his beliefs would live on as long as fight clubs still existed. Paine became the new Tyler Durden, known throughout the underground organization as Tyler's handpicked successor, his prodigy. Paine at first was very hesitant to join fight club; he was after all, a cop. But something inside him was awakened while Tyler was beating him, something that had been with him since he grew out of childhood, but had never been able to thrive. Until Tyler had shown Paine the light, now he was Tyler's Prophet, spreading the word.
"Just make sure you're ready tonight ok?" Paine said.
"You're the boss."
"Yes, I am."
The only problem the fight clubs had now was infiltration. Just as Paine had tried to infiltrate fight club to shut it down his first night there, so many other small fight clubs had been shut down from the inside by spies. Since Paine's Seattle fight club was so well-known, it was the perfect target for police officers. Officers, like Kendrick Paine. After taking over the fight club, Paine stopped being the polite, orderly, pushover cop he used to be, and started acting like the badass that had been awakened by Tyler's fists. Kendrick was written up by his chief for brutality, insubordination, and absenteeism multiple times over the past year. His police officer profile said that he had grown, 'apathetic and inconsiderate of others in the department', and that he 'was an unreliable hothead' while in the field. This, combined with the numerous injuries he suspiciously sustained weekly, all lead to his suspension from the force on three separate occasions.
One week ago, Paine had been returned to duty after a 1-month suspension, and while he was inside the station, he took a look at the current operations the department had going on. He discovered that the FBI attaché', Michael Valentine, had discovered the meeting place of our fight club through an interrogated member. He was going undercover there the next Friday to take down its leader. Paine did not take kindly to having someone want to 'take him down'. Paine called together his two most trustworthy lieutenants, Lei and Tom. After discussing their options, they decided to martyr this man for the fight club's members, to immortalize their power and presence in Seattle. Tonight was the night.
Nine o'clock came, and Michael arrived at the Great Wall basement behind a group of regulars, apparently trying to act nonchalant. Everyone made a circle around the center of fighting area. Lei came down and shut the door to the upstairs, while Tom shut off all the lights but those in the center. Mr. Durden had made news rules after the death of Robert Paulson, the leaders walked around the fighters in the dark, the only men allowed in the light were those fighting. So Paine walked, and shouted the rules the same as any other night in any other fight club. At the seventh rule, he was behind Michael. As he reached the eighth rule, he put his hand in the center of his back, and shoved hard. Michael fell forward into the ring of men. Paine then stepped forward into the ring and took his button-up shirt off. Dead silence filled the room. Paine had not had a fight in some time, most assumed he was too busy running everything to fight. Everyone instantly turned their attention to the surprised, yet determined man opposite Paine. They all realized something must be wrong, that this man must be an infiltrator or Paine wouldn't be fighting. Michael began to smell the rage mounting within the room.
"Are you ready?" I hear myself say without much concern in my voice. This man is trying to destroy us, trying to destroy me, trying to destroy Tyler. But we cannot be destroyed, he has made a grave error, and for that he must be punished.
"You are all under arrest! You hear me? If one hand is laid on me you all are going to prison!" Michael began to scream out to the crowd in desperation. They would not hear these cries of weakness.
"Many are scared their first fight, don't be afraid, it will be quick, I assure you." I tell him, the crowd thinks this is outrageous.
"You bastard! You're a Seattle Police Officer! How the hell can you do something like this? You're insane!" He yells as I close the 10 or so feet between us in a few short strides. I bring my right fist up into the bridge of his nose. He immediately falls back onto the ground, taking advantage of the pause; I bend down and rip his shirt off his back.
He quickly recovers however, and jumps up into my gut, slamming punch after punch into my ribs. Bringing my fists together, I slam them down like a hammer onto his spine. Instantly he snaps his head up rapidly and connects the top of his skull with my chin. I taste blood and I see the light on the ceiling. As he stands up the light is obscured by his face, a look of hatred and anger splayed onto it. Stunned, I am helpless as he picks me up off the floor and crashes punch after punch into my face. My eyes, my nose, my cheeks, my jaw; all is obliterated as he mangles me.
Pausing for breath, he stares me in the eye; I can see his confidence disappears as I bring my foot into his crotch with lightning-speed. As he crumples over I swiftly jump up and kick him in the stomach half a dozen times. The crowd cheers raucously. I am their leader, their prophet. Lifting his chin with my left hand and smashing his face with my right, I end any hope of an open-casket funeral. Then I lift his limp body up, he weighs much less than I do (muscle weighs more than fat), and pound away on his chest and gut. The sound of cracking ribs fills the air, even over the loud chants of the crowd. Even unconscious, Michael coughs up blood with a whistle as I deliver punch after punch. Finally I lift him high above my head and slam his limp down onto the hard concrete floor with a loud, wet smack. Blood pours from numerous wounds in his face, and a puddle is forming on the ground behind his head. His chest no longer rises and falls with breath.
"Paine! Paine! Paine! Paine! Paine!" My head aches, and their incessant screaming does not help, but it is done. The mole is gone. Our men will handle how and why, and give alibis to anyone who becomes suspect. This man's sacrifice will strengthen us, we will grow and adapt to all challenges. I have trained these men well. Maybe they no longer need me, is my job is done? All I know is this; "My name is Kendrick Paine, Tyler Durden would be proud." I don't realize I've said this aloud as the shouting intensifies.