How the hell did she end up here? Back presses up against a concrete wall, trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. A spider, a silent observer. Just another shadow on the wall.
Bodies milled around her, sweating, bare flesh in a writhing mass around a man in the center.
"First rule of Fight Club…" The voice sent a thrill through her, heading straight to her core. "You do not TALK about Fight Club." It was like a war chant. The collective pulse of the room quickened, and the temperature rose. The milling became faster as the men became more restless, eager, with each rule recited.
"If this is your first night at Fight Club… You have to fight."
The impact of fist upon flesh punctuated the last rule. Cheering started immediately as the two men, one of which was the man who declared the rules, went down on the cement floor, struggling for dominance. Her curiosity began to overtake her, and she peeled herself off the wall in an attempt to peer over the crowd. The smell of blood and sweat, and…and man was overwhelming, and sent her body humming. The twisting bodies on the floor began to slow as fresh blood stained the already darkened floor. The leader eventually ended up on top, arm wrapped around the other man's throat, a sadistic smile slapped across his face. The man beneath him let out a howl and a strained "stop", and the conqueror dropped him nonchalantly. Standing up and wiping blood from his eyes, he scanned the crowd, and landed dead on her.
Ducking back below the sea of men, she tried to steady her suddenly rapid heartbeat. She had attempted to dress as unremarkably as possible, but she was still one of the only ones in the room with a shirt still on. She glued herself back onto the wall, shrinking again. She dared not raise her head again, even though she missed the next three fights. But the smell was enough to keep her breath fast and her blood hot. She closed her eyes and let the sounds and smells overtake her, her fingers digging into the cement at her back. She stayed like this as the current fight ended, and the next began, her body twitching to the rhythm of the pounding fists and shouted cheers.
"What are you doing here, Snowflake?" The voice was in her ear, breath on her neck, body pressed against her side. Her eyes snapped open, and she turned sharply, ending up face to face with the leader himself. She took a step back, but he grabbed her arm, pulling her back. "You don't belong here."
As the fight raged on in the center of the basement, he dragged her up the wooden steps to the bar above, unseen by the rest of the crowd. She stumbled up the steps after him, too shocked to fight back. He pulled her into the barroom, shutting the heavy basement door behind them.
"You should leave." She stood dumbfounded. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He cocked his head, and the same sick smile spread across his face. "But you won't, won't you?" He walked casually towards her, with a predatory slowness. She backed up again, only to hit a wall. He didn't stop until he was inches from her face, and she could see the individual beads of sweat that collected on his forehead and chest, and the chip in his left front tooth. "In that case, you've gotta follow the rules."
He took a step back, sizing her up. "No shirt, no shoes." She found herself following his orders without thought, kicking off her ratty sneakers. She pulled the loose white tee-shirt over her head, and stood before him. He gazed at her for a second, then continued.
"Fights will go on as long as they have to." He paused again, and she nodded.
"And if it's your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight." He descended upon her.
Continue?