Don't Talk About Fight Club (Guys Only)

[Kendrix]

Alberis sat in the cantina near the lovely dancers not his normal spot in a cantina but the bar happened to be full. The whole cantina seemed to be full. Where was he again? Naboo? He couldn't remember the name of the planet. He had been to so many here recently that he didn't know exactly where he was. The troubles of a Zeltron drifter. He looked over to see two Yuzzum complaining about someone blocking the bathroom. As Al hear the word he realized he had to go. He left his drink on the table as he stood up and walked to the bathroom noticing an Abyssin standing halfway in front of the door. Al raised his hand to push the door open when the Abyssin tossed him back.

"No one gets in," the Abyssin growled at Alberis.

Al glared up at him,"I have to take a leak." He stood his ground with the Abyssin. His inner voice yelling for him to run since the guy was so large. The Abyssin laughed however and then held the door open for Alberis. Al shrugged it off and walked on in his first sight being a bunch of shirtless and shoeless men standing around. He stares a little dumbfound wondering just how strong his drink was. A small rodian asked Al for his shirt and shoes, and he didn't argue like he probably should. He zipped off his shirt and removed his boots. A shirtless Gamorrian whistled to get everyone's attention. All of the shirtless guys step back so that the Gamorrian stands in the middle of the cirle.

"Alright listen up," the Gamorrian begins. "RULE NUMBER ONE: You do not talk about FIGHT CLUB.RULE NUMBER TWO: You DO NOT talk about FIGHT CLUB. RULE NUMBER THREE: If someone says "stop" or goes limp, taps out the fight is over. RULE NUMBER FOUR: Only two guys to a fight.RULE NUMBER FIVE: One fight at a time. RULE NUMBER SIX: No shirts, no shoes.RULE NUMBER SEVEN: Fights will go on as long as they have to. RULE NUMBER EIGHT: If this is your first night at FIGHT CLUB, you HAVE to fight."

A smirk graced Alberis' face he wasn't sure what he got himself into but knew he was going to like it.

 

[Lysle of the Hydian Way]

Theme

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In the lowest levels, in the abyssal urban depths, it was a rare thing indeed to see sunlight. For the inhabitants of the baroque and gleaming cloud cutters, sky towers and superskytowers—the latter reaching as much as two kilometres high— the sun was something taken for granted, just as were the other comforts of life. Since WeatherNet guaranteed that it never rained until dusk or later, the rich golden sunlight was simply expected, in the same way that one expected air to fill one’s lungs with every breath. But hundreds of stories below the first inhabited floors of the great towers, ziggurats, and minarets, in some places actually on or under the city-planet’s surface, it was another story. Here hundreds of thousands of humans and other species lived and died, sometimes without ever catching as much as a glimpse of the fabled sky. Here the light that filtered through the omnipresent gray inversion layer was wan and pallid. The rain that reached the surface was nearly always acidic, enough so at times to etc tiny channels and grooves into ferrocarbon foundations. It was hard to believe that anything at all could survive in these dismal trenches. Yet even here life, both intelligent and otherwise, had adjusted long ago to the perpetual twilight and structured environment. At the very bottom of the chasms, in the variegated pulsing of phosphor lights and signs, stone mites, conduit worms, and other scavengers flourished on technological detritus. Duracrete slugs blindly masticated their way through rubble. Hawk-bats built nest near power converters to keep their eggs warm. Armored rats and spider-roaches scuttled and hunted through piles of trash two stories high. And millions of other species of opportunistic and parasitic organisms, from single-celled animalcules all the way up to those self-aware enough to wish they weren’t, doggedly pursued their common quest for survival, little different from the struggles on a thousand different jungle worlds. Down here was where the jetsam of the galaxy, a motley collection of sentients dismissed by those above simply as “the underdwellers,” eked out lives of brutality and despair. It was merely a different kind of jungle, after all. And where there’s a jungle, there are always those who hunt. Lysle walked hurriedly through the colourful crowds that thronged the black markets. A layer of smoke and fog, a miasma of narcotics, alcohol and decaying lives thickened the air. He moved cautiously and stealthily through puddles of stuttering neon light. It wasn’t safe for him to be here. Heck, it wasn't safe for him to be anywhere in this sector of space. He had bounty hunters on his track, infochants trying to scrounge up anything they could on him, and more warrants for his arrest than he could remember. He slipped through crowds of various species—Bothans, Niktos, Twi’leks, and Humans—with few noticing him. A back door to a cantina opened up for him, in way of a concealed entrance. A thinly corridor stretched seemingly as far as the eye could see. Shady and less-than-honourable thugs rested themselves against the walls, murmuring to one another in intoxicated drawls. Orange luminescence shone between carved lommite, giving the wall the appearance of a thousand tiny lights that sparkled and shadowed as mysterious gangsters wandered past. As he wound his way along the halls, eyes averting towards his Nas-Tech Wrist-Mounted Datapad, he checked his current location and his end location. A tracking device of sorts to find ones way down in the hellish maze of the city. The roof was suddenly replaced not by solid permacrete but grates that let light burst down from above. He felt a trickle of water drip onto his shoulder. He looked up, to see clueless citizens walking along the grated ceiling, unaware of what was below. He moved through a set of doors, opening into a larger room, clearly the main room of the cantina, and dived left towards the bathroom and made a beeline for it. Lysle's steeled eyes took particular note of the blood on the floor, and those standing around. The Lysle people once knew, handsome, well kept, dressed sharply in only the latest trends, was gone. In his place was a down-on-his-luck smuggler, wearing a navy blue gunner's jacket over a loose white t-shirt. His jeans were dirty from what appeared to be freighter fuel, with some thrown in grease for added measure. His boots were surprisingly fashionable. Lysle was a former professional shock boxer, and continued a semi-career on Antecedent as the leader and founder of the Red Ravens. He knew the drill of these type of clubs, he took off his shoes, jacket and shirt, and gave them to the Rodian. "New bloke, eh?" Lysle asked of Alberis, he turned his eyes on the Gamorrian, "I see who I am fighting tonight." The way Lysle said those words, it wasn't a statement, it was a threat, a challenge.

[member="Alberis Nark"]

 

[Judah Dashiell]

[member="Alberis Nark"] | [member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"]


His shirt and shoes had been collected at the door, no man was allowed to enter any further. There was a small wait to get into the space and Judah waited patiently, scoping out the competition. Fighters of all shapes and sizes and species were in attendance at the underground club. A large part of him wasn't sure why he was here. [member="Thessa Kai"] certainly wouldn't approve of his underground and possibly violent activities. Yet there was something gnawing at him. Too much on his mind. Too much time away from home. Too much time away from the people and places that mattered.


Judah forced himself to stop thinking and get moving as the throng of other potential fighters started to move towards the makeshift ring. Moving along the sides, he found himself an open spot in the crowd. Arms crossed over his pale chest and he rolled back on the balls of his feet, floor cold against them.


Hope I don't get my behind kicked too terribly....

 

[Dral Ordo]

Dral handed his shirt and shoes over without a word, the massive Mandalorian entering the queue to get in. He needed to work on brawling, and this place was going to get that done. He examined his competition, not impressed. The Dar'Manda Paragon knew no one would recognize him; good. No one would give him special treatment. He was here to crack skulls and get his skull cracked; and it looked like the former would certainly happen.

[member="Judah Dashiell"]
[member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"]
[member="Alberis Nark"]

 

[Davik Tren]

The young spacer had already handed away his shoes and shirt to one of the bouncers that had been set up to work the door. This should be fun, he had been raring for some sort of action after his last few jobs had ended in nothing but boring runs through republic space. Lot of thugs around here... Hope I can walk after this. It could be said that while inspired the young smuggler was not the most imposing figure, but he was fast... Hopefully that was enough to save him from getting a nice bash against the duracrete floor.

The other fighters all stood in the dim light of the room dressed in the proper attire for the event... Or so he guessed... It was not as if this was regular to him! It looked as though a Gamorrean in the center of the makeshift arena was managing the fights. With a few cautious steps, the barefoot hunter stood near the edge of the pit with anxious breaths.

[member="Judah Dashiell"] l [member="Dral Ordo"] l [member="Alberis Nark"] l [member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"]

 

[Kendrix]

Al started to size up the rest of the guys. Most were roughly his size a few taller and shorter. No one was really out of shape. He caught a glimpse of a really beefy large man and almost had to leave for the bar to get another shot of courage. If he picked Al out of the group, Alberis made the plan to fake an emergency with a fake pregnant wife and leave. His eyes went on a round the circle to the rodian, and he watched as a man left his gunner's jacket and white shirt with the rodian. He watched him as he moved across the floor. Their eyes locked. Not something Alberis meant to do on purpose but still it happened. He looked him up and down. He was one of the more muscular men there, and Alberis could tell by his knuckles this definitely wasn't his first or second night.

New bloke, eh?" Al could tell the man didn't want an answer from him. Al cursed his colorful Zeltron appearance for a second. The man turned his eyes on the Gamorrian, "I see who I am fighting tonight."

Alberis could feel his blood boiling a bit. He didn't much care for the man's tone. He could tell this man was out for blood. Not for the fun of the fight, but why he's blood, Al wasn't sure off. Alberis wasn't sober enough to fight him. He grit his teeth then stepped forward. But then again, he too drunk to say no. He held his palms up to say 'sure why not?' and then pulled them into him and held his stance.

[member="Judah Dashiell"]
[member="Dral Ordo"]
[member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"]
[member="Davik Tren"]

 

[Lysle of the Hydian Way]

The former crime boss-turned-smuggler chalked his hands with a wrapping that came out of his trousers back pocket. Lysle clapped his fists together with the all-too familiar thud of their collision. Smothered chalk burst into insignificant clouds of white particles that gently drifted to the floor of the bathroom. He began to bounce between each foot, ready to keep himself quick on his feet. He used the balls of his feet to propel himself left and right, arching his back to keep himself down. With his knees bent, feet ready and his back arched, neck hankering down, he could easily and fluently protect his core. There was no doubting that years of experience was evident in his techniques. His eyes watched Alberis, hungry for the fight.

The two of them approached one another; Lysle wanting to get in close. He fetched into his pocket and shoved something plastic into his mouth. He grit his teeth, biting deep into his mouthguard. Lysle didn't hesitate. He skirted left, twisting his torso to propel his left arm with increased speed and kinetic energy. A direct attack that was aimed for Alberis' jaw. He would there-after follow - irregardless if his previous attack had been successful or not - with a quick right jab for Alberis' ribs, while Alberis guard would likely be recovering from the quick left shot. Lysle launched himself into a series of powerful, short bursts of jabs, left and right, for his ribs. An attempt to not only injure them - but to crack them. All the while Lysle kept his back hunched, head down, albeit ultimately exposed.

[member="Alberis Nark"] [member="Davik Tren"] [member="Dral Ordo"] [member="Judah Dashiell"]

 

[Dral Ordo]

Dral watched the fight with great interest.
He had come expecting an easy victory, but the fighters showed promise.
Perhaps he would find a worthy opponent after all.

[member="Lysle of the Hydian Way"]
[member="Alberis Nark"]
[member="Davik Tren"]
[member="Judah Dashiell"]