Logs:First Rule of Fight Club

First Rule of Fight Club
Dramatis Personae Ion, Sarah, Tian-shin
In Absentia	2019-07-20 We gotta Fight Club! Only freaks.
Location Evolve Cafe
'Evolve Cafe': Spacious and open, this coffeeshop has a somewhat industrial feel to it, grey resin floors below and exposed-beam ceilings that have been painted up in a dancing swirl of abstract whorls and starbursts, a riot of colour splashed against a white background. The walls alternate between brick and cheerfully lime-green painted wood that extends to the paneling beneath the brushed-steel countertops. There's an abundance of light, though rather than windows (which are scarce) it comes from plentiful hanging steel lamps. The walls here are home to artwork available for sale; though the roster of prints and paintings and drawings and photographs changes on a regular basis it has one thing in common -- all the artists displayed are mutants. The seating spaced around the room is spread out enough to keep the room from feeling cluttered. Black chairs, square black tables that mostly seat two or four though they're frequently pushed around and rearranged to make space for larger parties. In the back corner of the room is more comfortable seating, a few large black-corduroy sofas and armchairs with wide tables between them. There's a shelf of card and board games back here available for customers to sit and play. The chalkboard menus hanging behind the counter change frequently, always home to a wide variety of drinks (with an impressive roster of fair-trade coffees and teas largely featured) though their sandwiches and wraps and soups and snacks of the day change often. An often-changing variety of baked goods sit behind the display case at the counter halfway back in the room, and the opposite side of the counter holds a small selection of homemade ice creams. A pair of single-user bathrooms flanks the stairway in back of the cafe; at night, the thump of music can be heard from above, coming from the adjoining nightclub of the same name that sits up the stairs above the coffeehouse. Friday evenings are a busy time at Evolve, and it takes only the briefest of glances to get a good sense of this cafe's unique atmosphere. It's true that most of its clientèle could pass for human if they wanted -- okay, that girl in the corner with the blue fur, not so much, nor the youth near the front with the enormous leathery wings or their companion with the pinkish scales and slitted eyes, or the four-armed barista -- but most. In here, though, many do not feel the need to try and pretend; it's not so much a flagrant display of powers and more a casual, everyday. An excited young girl teleporting between her table and the counter when she's ready for a refill. A man levitating his coffee cup so that he can wipe up a spill underneath. A girl chilling her iced tea back down with a touch. In the middle of all this, Ion -- doesn't look like much. A wiry and extremely bouncy man in dark jeans, grungy white tee, a very beaten up leather vest covered in many patches (the largest of which says MUTANT MONGRELS MC surrounding a Jolly Roger, the skull horned and fanged and jagged crossed lightning bolts in place of crossbones.) Just now he's bringing a HUGE plate of extremely overloaded nachos to a table by the door, a pitcher of lemonade as well. "{You think I should have put some potato skin on these too? I don't know. Maybe these need more.}" Though the chips can barely be seen under the toppings he's still eying this dubiously. Tian-shin has been slumped in a chair at the table, absorbed by her smartphone. She's wearing a red satin brocade top with a mandarin collar and black stylized Chinese bats, loose black capris, and red sandals, her hair twisted up into a neat bun at the back of her head. She stirs and sits up when Ion arrives, putting her phone away. "{Oh wow, no that's perfect, thank you!}" Sarah also doesn't look like much, almost hiding in an oversized black hoodie where she claims a smaller table all to herself. A sketchbook and a bag of colored pencils, along with a half melted bowl of ice cream, cover the tabletop. The open page of the sketchbook is covered with faint sketches of flowers, birds, a smattering of different patrons. Her bright purple combat boots hang a few inches off the ground, faded jeans cuffed at the ankle to show them off. Her jeans have their fair share of patches on them as well, though Hello Kitty faces, roses, and patchwork hearts give off a much different vibe. The lilt of an unknown language from the table in front of hers is enough to break through whatever world Sarah has temporarily put herself in. When she looks up, more curious than anything, it's the Mongrels patch that catches her eye first. It isn't her style at all, but she'd be lying to herself if she said Angie wouldn't find the design cool... Reaching for a black pencil, she (hopefully) looks down before she can be caught staring, and tries to keep the Jolly Roger design in her mind to sketch out. Click. Take a picture. Mental darkroom. "{Good good good.}" Ion doesn't sit, pressing his palms to the table and bobbing restlessly on the balls of his feet. "This the good fighting food, huh? Get you a good energy for --" He straightens, miming -- quick one-two punch in the air. "Maybe is a good night to turn someone blood in lemonade? Yeah?" He sounds very eager about this possibility, although at the next moment uncertain: "Can you do that? Maybe just punches." Tian-shin pours herself a generous glass of lemonade, but then digs right into the nachos before taking a drink, reeling in the long string of cheese that follows it. Covers her mouth, flushing slightly while she chews the too-large bite, then gulps down some lemonade. "{Sorry!} I mean, maybe it's the hypoglycemia talking, but this is the stuff." She points emphatically down at the giant bowl, telling this to the small woman at the neighboring table. "Have you had their nachos? It's amazing." She's pried another chip out of the morass and stuffed it into her mouth even as Ion suggests activities for the evening. Holds up a finger until she can speak again. "Um, lemonade...might be a bit tricky? Maybe with a couple of intermediary steps." She looks down at the cup in her hand and scrunches up her face. "Punching is less vile. Why, you got someone in mind?" Sarah's head jerks up again, her face turning pink at being 'caught.' "Oh! Um." She leaves the skull half-sketched, with one fang and one horn, to squint at the plate. There are certainly chips and cheese, along with possibly everything else available in a kitchen. It is a little surprising that there isn't also a sink weighing the table down. "I haven't. How many toppings even are there?" The talk of fighting is heard, but she blinks, let's it flow past her. As long as she isn't the one they are planning to punch, that doesn't sound like her business. "Hundred topping. Two hundred topping." Ion reconsiders this shortly after, deciding instead: "Not enough topping. Wait should I have someone? Who you want to punch?" He looks to Tian-shin intently -- but only for a moment before she addresses Sarah. The shift of his attention is quick. "What you drawing there." He leans over Sarah's table instead, whooping out a bright laugh and taking the sketchbook, holding it up for Tian-shin to see. "Hey-hey-hey you see this? Look this. Amazing. That's my skull right there. Bam." On the bam he's thumping the book back down onto the table, his grin bright and excited. "What else you draw, huh?" "It's mostly toppings, basically," Tian-shin concludes, fishing another chip out from under the mountain of melting cheese. "You should try some, if you're into this kind of thing." She peers at the sketchbook and smiles wide. "That sure is your skull!" She wipes her fingers on a napkin and picks up her lemonade again. "Just, you seemed really down to punch, so I thought maybe you could. Point me at someone?" There's an audible squeak from Sarah when Ion snatches up the sketchbook, panic flooding her. It's gone just as fast once she realizes that she hasn't offended anyone, or more importantly, that he isn't going to actually do anything to said sketchbook. She startles as it lands in front of her again, but is grinning back at Ion just as widely by the time she settles back in her chair. That's the best reaction she could have hoped for. "Draw all kinds of stuff. Really, anything I see that I like." She nudges the sketchbook back toward the other table as she leans over to grab a chip on the edge of the pile. One that is only swimming in cheese as opposed to drowning. "You can look through it if you like." Ion finally digs into the nachos -- he doesn't bother fishing for a chip, though. He just plucks a greasy wad of cheese and onions and guacamole and beans and peppers between his fingers, popping it into his mouth. "Shit, there so many fucking people I point you at right now." He frowns, his restless bouncing starting back up. "{If I only knew the right goddamn direction. Fuck.}" He licks grease off his fingertips. Slides the book closer with his opposite hand to start leafing through it. "Too bad we don't got no Purifier at Fight Club, mmm? Maybe tonight we skip it. Throw some elsewhere-punches." Tian-shin pokes at the pile of nachos, searching for another exposed chip. She leans over to peer at the sketch book while Ion flips through it. "Wow! This is great stuff. I mean -- I'm not an artist, but my brother is." She smiles, her gaze softening. "Anyway, I like how you see things." Then, pointing at Ion. "And I like how you think. Let's do it." Flight Club? Fight Club is a real thing? Sarah has so many questions and too many manners to ask them. Also it is possibly breaking the First Rule of Fight Club, but does it count if someone else already brought it up? ...To hell with manners, she's too curious. "You guys are in a Fight Club?" she asks, her voice lowering with excitement as she leans closer--and moves back just as fast at the complement and smile, her face as pink as her hair. "Thank you." Ion's hands clap together, this time with a tiny shower of sparks that accompanies the motion. They're bright but harmless, disippating in the air nearly as soon as they've formed. "Yeah we gonna do it. Damn, these great! Shit you sell arts anywhere? You know there this, this, this, uh, this arts -- what's it. What's it called --" He's snapping his fingers, pointing to Tian-shin for assistance. "Fucking hippies they do arts together. Down across the bridge, your brother he do. You don't know them you should check them out." His smile is fierce, gleeful. "We gotta Fight Club! Only freaks." Clearly, the First Rule of Fight Club does not apply: his voice does not lower, bright and excited. "Do punching, frying, zapping, all the things." This time when his hands join together, fingertips tenting into a small cage, the crackle of electricity that dances between them -- longer, brighter -- is clearly intentional. Still harmless -- but only because it's contained, held for a few short moments in the space between his palms, a faint prickling charge still able to be felt in the air around them. Then gone. "All the things," he repeats happily. "Chimaera," Tian-shin supplies helpfully to Ion's snapping fingers. "Chimaera Art Collective, they have a cooperatively run studio/performance space in DUMBO--great place to meet other artists." She gives a soft, triumphant "ah!" as she pries another chip free. "If you google it, beware that the 'Chimaera' is spelled with an 'a' in front of the 'e' and also their calendar is usually out of date." She stuffs her mouth again and nods, flailing a hand in Ion's general direction. Swallows hastily and adds, "It's not an incubator of toxic masculine philosophy like the original, either. More of a...really intense way for mutants to practice self-defense." Sarah watches the dance of electricity with wide-eyed, almost childlike, wonder. "That sounds really cool. Both things, I mean, the art space-- I gotta remember Chimaera. You really think I could sell something?" She finally eats her own nacho before any more cheese can drip onto her hand, reaches for another with a noise of appreciation. They are good. "I only learned from some books my sister got me. Angie taught me how to fight some too, but I don't think my powers would be great for any sort of fighting." It's said with only a little bitterness. "Yeah! Collective, that's the one. You go there, do arts with all them hippies." The cheer in Ion's voice doesn't imply any kind of disparagement with this sentiment. He finally takes a seat -- sortofkindof, dropping a knee down onto the chair opposite Tian-shin, stuffing a laden chip into his face. "You can sell anything you try at it hard enough! But some these, yeah? They worth buying." He shrugs, swipes Tian-shin's lemonade so that he can gulp some down. "You can do punching without no powers. Damn important to learn, too." "Some of the most amazing artists I know are self-taught." Tian-shin gives Sarah an encouraging smile. "Some Chimaera members or affiliates could probably tell you more about how to sell your art, too. Folks there support each other all kinds of ways." She sobers a little, glancing between Ion and Sarah, biting the inside of her cheek. "There's other young people who go to Fight Club, and--again, unlike the original--you don't have to fight your first time. And you don't have to fight just anyone." Sarah takes her sketchbook back with a soft smile, jotting down 'Chimaera Art Collective'--a before e-- on a blank spot of the page it's opened on. "I dunno if I'd want to fight anyone /anyway,/ it just sounds really neat." She brightens suddenly, smile widening, as an idea hits her. "Maybe I could make Fight Club into a /comic book/ or something! I bet everyone there would be really fun to draw." "Naw naw naw Fight Club it's like, like, fucking Vegas right? What happen at Fight Club --" Ion shakes his head, setting the lemonade back down and refilling it from the pitcher. "Mutant only, right? People like me," he thumps at a smaller Mutant Mongrels patch over his chest pocket, "is okay, everyone know who we are. Not everyone want that. Some people want a safe place to be, not end up in no -- book, yeah?" He wiggles another chip free from the mess. "But some fake fight club, some fake faces, somewhere else, maybe you just get ideas? Maybe." "Yeah, if you want to dramatize underground mutant fighting and you're not afraid Chuck Palahniuk is going to sue you?" Tian-shin gives an exaggerated shrug and picks at another mostly submerged chip. "Go for it! I'd probably buy that comic." "Oh, right! Of course. Duh." Face hot, Sarah starts to finish the sketch of Ion's skull and lightning crossbones. "Maybe have it be in Vegas. Part time Fight Club, part time superheroes, full time punching." "Hey, maybe you throw in some Purifier on the side. Someone who earn their beatdown. Not just for practice at. You hear that?" In his seat, Ion is bouncing again, reaching over to squeeze at Tian-shin's hand eagerly. "We gonna be superhero."