fandomtownies | Atlas Gym, Fandom Fight Club [Sunday Evening]

There was a poster tacked up on the door to the main gym, with the following text written in alternating handwriting, as if the marker had been shared between two people:

Rules of Fandom Fight Club
1. What happens here, stays here. We can't keep the squirrels out, but if somebody tells you something on the mat, you don't repeat it off the mat.
2. No weapons or powers unless everyone knows in advance and is fighting within their weight class.
3. No shoes.
4. If someone says "stop" or goes limp, the fight is over.
5. Two people to a fight.
6. Fights go on as long as they have to.
7. No tourists. If you need to take a week to see what this is like, cool, but no coming back just to watch. You wanna watch, get a TV; here, everybody fights.
8. No fighting if you're sick or injured. You wanna screw up your body, you do it on your own time.
9. The organizers reserve the right to remove you from the club at any time for violation of these rules.

Underneath the sign was a table with a sign-in sheet, where people could print their name and if they'd fought before ~~which is handwavey since y'all already did it~~, which would be collected once the meeting started.

Inside, Tyler was pacing, barefoot and holding himself so erect he looked about three inches taller than he normally did. He clapped his hands in a way designed to silence anyone still talking.

"Welcome to Fight Club," he began. "In this room, you are not a teacher or a student or the guy who works behind the bar at Caritas. You are not what you own or what you wear. You are not a special, unique snowflake. You are a body. You hit, you bleed, you feel pain, you cause pain, you come back for more. You get better. You might even find redemption."

He glanced at the group as if daring anyone to argue with him on these points.

"The purpose of this group is catharsis and self-improvement through unarmed combat," Ghanima said briskly. For once, she was not wearing her usual ornate gowns, but a simple woven tunic and slacks and was barefoot like Tyler. "There is absolutely nothing wrong with therapeutic violence - no matter what the armchair shrink of the week says - and this place is here to provide you with that option."

"That said, should you wish to have a friendly spar with someone using practice weapons, you should feel free so long as both parties agree. Please refrain from using actual weapons until you've worked with someone more than once."

"And while we're being the buzzkill jerks with all the rules," Tyler said, "here's a quick gym tour. Padding's over here -- beginners, wear gloves, everyone else, it's at your discretion -- practice weapons are there, and these soft blue things? These are mats. We fight on the mats."

"Speak for yourself," Ghanima murmured, bemused. "I may occasionally be evil, but I am not a jerk or a buzzkill."

"Now, my favorite part. We're going to randomly pick some fights." It was possible Ghanima looked a bit too gleeful about this. "You and you. You two. You two too. You and you, and hrm, you, and ... you." There was practically a halo over her head as she pointed at Tyler. "There. Get to know your new friends, then get to know the mat. Anyone I didn't just pair up, find your own partner."

[Up early for massive SP! ~~Wait for the~~Massive OCD is massive and up.]

ETA:You people are breaking my browser! Mingle | RNG Fights | Open Sparring | Ghanima and Tyler | OOC | Next Week's RNG

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"So? We never officially met before, and now we have. What's so weird about that?" Tahiri asked, grinning a bit.

"Yeah okay, be logical about it," he waved off her protest. "Keep being a smartass and I'm going to have to kick your ass for it." It was said grumpily, but he was grinning.

"If you can," Tahiri shot back good-naturedly; not a challenge, just playful banter.

"Well," he eyed her. "You're one of those people who's got powers, right?"

"Yeah, but I'm not going to go around using them on just anybody. How would that be fair?" Tahiri asked.

"Depends on if they've got something to match it," Ichigo replied, but he was used to fights that didn't start out on fair grounds. "Depends on who you're fighting. You can't get better if you don't get challenged."

And competition was, as she'd said in class, a breeder of strength according to the Yuuzhan Vong. Tahiri looked briefly troubled by that, but she had to acknowledge that Ichigo's point wasn't any less true.

"Point. It'd be stupid to expect nothing but fair fights."

"Che," he let out a breath and gave her an amused look. He'd learned that the hard way, even if he'd somehow managed to get out of whatever fight he'd gotten himself in to. Because you had your ass saved for you, a voice supplied at the back of his head.

"Sounds about right. You get into a lot of fights?"

"You make it sound like I go looking for them," Tahiri complained. "I'm a Jedi. This stuff finds us."

And okay, she might as well have gone looking for fights, given how much of a trouble magnet she and Anakin had been when they were together.

"So you didn't decide for yourself that you wanted to be a Jedi?" he asked. "What are Jedis anyway?"

"Well, I didn't know until one of them came to Tatooine and told me I was going to the academy because I was strong in the Force," Tahiri explained, "but I found out later my grandfather was one, too. Jedi are supposed to be guardians of peace and justice in the galaxy," she added, sounding like she was reciting from memory, and if there was a bit of a disgusted undertone to her voice, she was still a little annoyed about her galaxy's current hostility to the Order.

"As for whether it's what I wanted . . ." She hesitated, and chose not to fully answer. "It's what I am." What she had to be, really; it was either that or Riina Kwaad.

He tilted his head as he watched her curiously, some of what she was saying seem to resonate, but he wasn't sure why. "So you get born as Jedi?"

Tahiri laughed briefly. "Not exactly. You're born being sensitive to the Force or not. You have to be Force-sensitive to be a Jedi, but not all Force-sensitives choose to be Jedi." Or have the option, like her parents.

"So then you did in a way chose to be a Jedi," he concluded.

The look Tahiri gave him clearly said you're a pain, but she nodded. "I did," she said, not really talking about Tionne coming to find her on Tatooine six years ago.

Ichigo was well used to that look, he was well used to ignore it too. "So are there a lot of Jedis?"

"More than there were, not as many as they used to be," Tahiri said cryptically, because she could be a pain too.

He raised an eyebrow, but was undeterred by the response. "How come?"

"How come you ask so many qu --" Tahiri bit off the end of the sentence and shook her head ruefully. "It's like talking to a younger me."

"Yes," Ichigo said dryly, leaning forward to study her. "Because you look ancient."

"I could be older than I look," Tahiri pointed out, narrowing her eyes at him.

Still being a brat.

"Yeah? Like what? Five?" He could be a brat too.

"You little kreetle. Five? Five?" Tahiri exclaimed mock-indignantly.

"What the hell is a kreetle?" Ichigo asked, because that was the important bit.

"It's an insect from Tatooine that lives on garbage," Tahiri said, somehow completely unsurprised that he'd go for that question. "I hear some species think they make good snacks."