+Sometimes I sit here and think. There's not much else to do in this padded prison. I think about what things would have been like if I had just went along with Tyler's plan. I sure as hell wouldn't be in here, that's for certain. Tyler had an escape all planned out. Once we had watched the city take that one step closer to economic equilibrium, laughing it up with those bald headed drones, we were supposed to take the bus they had hijacked, drive to the next city with a thriving fight club, and start all over again.
Tyler had a plan. But I fucked it up. I had to be the noble little hero, sacrificing life and limb to avert the catastrophe. There was nothing I could have done. Like he said, there were ten other bombs in ten other buildings, there was nothing I could do. Yet I still acted like a self righteous little punk, and betraying the only person who really cared about me, just because I was afraid to follow through on what we had started. I was Jack's guilty conscience.
As soon as the rubble hit the streets, the police knew exactly who to look for. At least, those who weren't enlisted in Tyler's army. Thanks to my dramatic little confession to Agent Stern, not only did they know exactly who had done it, but because the space monkeys had mapped out everything in those plans, including the location of Tyler's skybox seats, they knew just where to find me. Marla was questioned and released. I haven't seen her since. I'm not allowed any visitors. Most of the space monkeys scattered once they found out their leader had been thrown in the loony bin. The ones that were caught are currently serving prison sentences for arson, destruction of public property, disturbance of the peace, vandalism, and anything else the courts threw at them.
Whatever.
I, on the other hand, was sentenced a life of solitary confinement in this shithole. You don't exactly get off light for masterminding a scheme that turned half a city into a pile of burning debris. I was only let out of my room for one hour of exercise a day.
Speaking of which....
"Lets go, Mister Mayhem, time for some exercise," chuckled the wall of flesh taking up most of the doorway. He stood six foot three, with a neck about as thick as my leg and an IQ as big as my shoe size. He obviously had nothing else to take pleasure in than making bad jokes to insult the inmates. How anyone could spent time in this pit voluntarily was beyond me. I slowly glanced over at him, with one of those looks that says "Yeah, right," and "Fuck you" at the same time, before returning my gaze to the imperfections in the pale blue paint on the ceiling. Just to piss him off.
I wanted to have some fun.
"Hey, you got a problem hearing me, jackass? Or are you too busy talking to your imaginary friend?"
"Actually, I was, Sasquach. We were just discussing how, under all that muscle, you're probably just a fuckin' pussy."
Tyler's words coming out of my mouth. I could barely contain my relief at hearing them as my guest's face turned a deep shade of red.
"What the fuck did you just say??" he barked as he stalked towards me.
"You heard me, Chuckles. Spending five hours a day in the gym doesn't make you a man. Which I doubt you are anyway," I said to the behemoth towering over me, getting him even more riled up. I stood up, almost toe to toe with him. From this close I could tell he hadn't showered in a while. I haven't had a fight since seven months ago in that garage basement with Tyler.
Far too long.
He grabbed the front of my shirt with his mammoth hands, about to do some more screaming, when I drove my knee right into his family jewels.
In fight club, there's no such thing as hitting below the belt.
His eyes popped open as he suddenly released my shirt and gasped for breath. My fist collided with his jaw in a nasty uppercut that would have dropped a guy my size right to the floor.
It barely fazed him.
I managed to get in a few more blows to his face and stomach before he shook off the effects of my low blow and came after me full force. His first punch landed square in my abdomen, deflating me like a beach ball.
I was out of practice.
He grabbed be by the back of the neck and threw me head first into the wall. Even the foam padding didn't absorb the force he sent me flying with. In a way, it was good to feel the pain flashing through my skull, like a fond memory of the times I spent in the dank basement of Lou's Tavern.
But, enough reminiscing.
The big gorilla came up behind me, ready to make me pay the price for getting out of line. As soon as he was close enough, I shot my elbow back into his face, breaking his nose. He bellowed in pain as the blood came pouring out.
By this time, all the racket had caught the attention of the other orderlies, who came rushing in to put an end to the brawl, three more guys the size of the hulking bag of testosterone I was fighting. There was no way I could take them all.
But I sure as hell tried.
By the time they were done with me, I was unconscious, but just in case I felt like starting any more trouble, they drugged me up and left me there, a bloody mess. Definitely the worst beating I've ever taken. Tyler would be proud. If that wasn't trying to hit bottom, I don't know what was.
I don't know how long I lay there, slipping in and out of consciousness, when I woke up to the sound of a voice I hadn't heard in seven months, that calm, confident voice, that had always reassured me that everything would be ok.
"I told ya you needed me."
Tyler had a plan. But I fucked it up. I had to be the noble little hero, sacrificing life and limb to avert the catastrophe. There was nothing I could have done. Like he said, there were ten other bombs in ten other buildings, there was nothing I could do. Yet I still acted like a self righteous little punk, and betraying the only person who really cared about me, just because I was afraid to follow through on what we had started. I was Jack's guilty conscience.
As soon as the rubble hit the streets, the police knew exactly who to look for. At least, those who weren't enlisted in Tyler's army. Thanks to my dramatic little confession to Agent Stern, not only did they know exactly who had done it, but because the space monkeys had mapped out everything in those plans, including the location of Tyler's skybox seats, they knew just where to find me. Marla was questioned and released. I haven't seen her since. I'm not allowed any visitors. Most of the space monkeys scattered once they found out their leader had been thrown in the loony bin. The ones that were caught are currently serving prison sentences for arson, destruction of public property, disturbance of the peace, vandalism, and anything else the courts threw at them.
Whatever.
I, on the other hand, was sentenced a life of solitary confinement in this shithole. You don't exactly get off light for masterminding a scheme that turned half a city into a pile of burning debris. I was only let out of my room for one hour of exercise a day.
Speaking of which....
"Lets go, Mister Mayhem, time for some exercise," chuckled the wall of flesh taking up most of the doorway. He stood six foot three, with a neck about as thick as my leg and an IQ as big as my shoe size. He obviously had nothing else to take pleasure in than making bad jokes to insult the inmates. How anyone could spent time in this pit voluntarily was beyond me. I slowly glanced over at him, with one of those looks that says "Yeah, right," and "Fuck you" at the same time, before returning my gaze to the imperfections in the pale blue paint on the ceiling. Just to piss him off.
I wanted to have some fun.
"Hey, you got a problem hearing me, jackass? Or are you too busy talking to your imaginary friend?"
"Actually, I was, Sasquach. We were just discussing how, under all that muscle, you're probably just a fuckin' pussy."
Tyler's words coming out of my mouth. I could barely contain my relief at hearing them as my guest's face turned a deep shade of red.
"What the fuck did you just say??" he barked as he stalked towards me.
"You heard me, Chuckles. Spending five hours a day in the gym doesn't make you a man. Which I doubt you are anyway," I said to the behemoth towering over me, getting him even more riled up. I stood up, almost toe to toe with him. From this close I could tell he hadn't showered in a while. I haven't had a fight since seven months ago in that garage basement with Tyler.
Far too long.
He grabbed the front of my shirt with his mammoth hands, about to do some more screaming, when I drove my knee right into his family jewels.
In fight club, there's no such thing as hitting below the belt.
His eyes popped open as he suddenly released my shirt and gasped for breath. My fist collided with his jaw in a nasty uppercut that would have dropped a guy my size right to the floor.
It barely fazed him.
I managed to get in a few more blows to his face and stomach before he shook off the effects of my low blow and came after me full force. His first punch landed square in my abdomen, deflating me like a beach ball.
I was out of practice.
He grabbed be by the back of the neck and threw me head first into the wall. Even the foam padding didn't absorb the force he sent me flying with. In a way, it was good to feel the pain flashing through my skull, like a fond memory of the times I spent in the dank basement of Lou's Tavern.
But, enough reminiscing.
The big gorilla came up behind me, ready to make me pay the price for getting out of line. As soon as he was close enough, I shot my elbow back into his face, breaking his nose. He bellowed in pain as the blood came pouring out.
By this time, all the racket had caught the attention of the other orderlies, who came rushing in to put an end to the brawl, three more guys the size of the hulking bag of testosterone I was fighting. There was no way I could take them all.
But I sure as hell tried.
By the time they were done with me, I was unconscious, but just in case I felt like starting any more trouble, they drugged me up and left me there, a bloody mess. Definitely the worst beating I've ever taken. Tyler would be proud. If that wasn't trying to hit bottom, I don't know what was.
I don't know how long I lay there, slipping in and out of consciousness, when I woke up to the sound of a voice I hadn't heard in seven months, that calm, confident voice, that had always reassured me that everything would be ok.
"I told ya you needed me."
