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

"And good practice," Tahiri agreed. With a glance toward the mats, she added, "Although I get the feeling we might get out of here with more than just bruises."

"Are you concerned?" Alice frowned, glancing at the rules again. "It says that we aren't to push fights beyond the other person's limits. If one person resists, the other must cease. As when animals roll to show one another their vulnerable spots, as a sign of surrender."

Tahiri shrugged one shoulder. "Pain doesn't bother me," she said, trying to sound casual about it. "I've had worse."

Alice nodded uncertainly. "What is it that worries you, then?" she asked, as delicately as she could manage. "That you fear we will leave with, beyond bruises?"

"I'm not worried," Tahiri said, even though she was. Just not for a reason she cared to go into. "It's just a little more intense than your standard friendly spar in the gym tends to be."

"It might be," Alice nodded, looking around again. "Though if you cared to have a light, friendly match, you may find one who could accomodate."

Her own conversation with Leto, earlier, was floating back to her. Her own fears of how the fight itself might take over. Perhaps if things were kept on a careful footing ...

"That sounds like about my speed right now," Tahiri agreed; the last thing she wanted, today, was for Riina to make a surprise appearance. "Are you up for it, maybe?"

"I believe I should like to," Alice said. She was mildly surprised to be so, but it seemed a more secure setting than she had imagined. No chance for desperate instincts to push her farther than was acceptable, in a friendly match. No need to go for the kill. "Though it seems strangely awkward to nod politely and then being punching at one another."

"Less awkward than just coming at me with a kick out of nowhere?" Tahiri asked, the corner of her mouth quirking up.

[OOC: And I have to crash now -- handwaved or SP works for me either way!]

And for that, Alice laughed. "There ought to be a scale, you know. Whether punches, kicks, or hair-pulling is the least socially egregious."

She lifted her arms defensively, hoping her face didn't betray her nerves.

(OOC: me too, on all counts! crashing, and handwavey/SP, either are fine!)

Atlas Gym, Fandom Fight Club [Sunday Evening]

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