Octavio flipped his phone around in his fingers before stowing it in his pocket again. If that thing weren’t in a lifeproof ™ case, it would have been shattered into a million pieces by now. Even so, he wondered if he should put it somewhere else and just..stand near it? How serious was this fight club? He was ready for just about anything. He bounced from foot to foot, keeping vigilant and looking about for this Felix guy he’d never actually met in person.
He had, however, looked him up on that handy dandy internet, so he wasn’t flying completely blind. When he saw a brief glimpse of that black ponytail, he was thankful for his rare bout of foresight.
With an audible snap, Octavio donned his goggles and slipped his mask back up over his face. He tapped the small camera strapped to the side of his goggles, activating the recording feature.
❝ ¡Hola! ❞ He called out to alert the other to his presence. ❝ What took you so long? Can’t keep up? We haven’t even started yet! ❞ He didn’t wait around after that. Step one: tire the poor guy out with a little cat and mouse. Turning on his heel, he sprinted off, hopped over the nearest low obstacle, and booked it away from the scene. Only occasionally did he check back over his shoulder to see if Felix was still there.
Fight Club was a very controversial club.
In its pledge, submitted by a certain sword-waving-fanatic, the goal was to appreciate the martial arts—combat and the likes— and how studying it would please whatever liberal arts requirements the faculty wanted to hear.
At its core? Well, that was subjective to each member.
And if anyone asked, these were just two, very passionate members studying the art of guerilla warfare.
With a pin on his map, Felix struggled, biting his lip to keep the smile on his face from spreading out any further. A man with an unstable face carrying a very real, very sharp sword doing a full-out sprint across campus should have been a giant red flag to some school security but at this point, they knew Felix by first name from his frequent civil arrests. In fact, there was a relationship Felix had to maintain to ensure, to the safety of everyone, that he was just a quirky student and not a threat. Of course, Felix did abuse this partnership with a shadier member of the campus security that also had a fascination with old weaponry.
Octavio interested Felix excessively for one of the current members of Fight (Choreography) Club. They held similar interests—video game influencers and ‘eccentric’ characters that resonated the same vibe within the club— as well as a certain rivalry Felix didn’t know he desired. Their online correspondence ended in a dare the other decided to take Felix up on. Felix, a man who never made threats, but promises, would fucking deliver.
The goggles-donning fool was as loud as Felix expected him to be, he could probably hear him a block away. And just as he approached, he began running. Oh, this was a mistake on Octavio’s part and he’d come to learn with his tin legs that Felix hated a chase.
For his two years at the school, Felix mapped out his surroundings carefully. If there was a hidden basement in the blueprints of the old bones of the university he knew about it. If there was a secret corridor or shortcut around the campus, he knew about it. Aside from his interest in war planning and a survivalist lifestyle (don’t get him started on how he’d survive in doom’s day prepping), it was just plain convenient getting around to his classes. Or avoiding them altogether. By turning his location on, it gave Felix a headstart in refreshing himself on their surroundings, and with that, Felix picked up his phone and dialed a contact, “...yeah, still on shift? ...Perfect.”
If Octavio were checking it would seem like he’d lost Felix completely. To Felix, that clown was in his direct sights. “You can’t run forever bitch!” In all fucking likelihood, Felix was hanging out the passenger side of a campus security go-cart, sword (still sheathed for visible safety to onlookers) in hand, pulling a pincer to mow him down at a nice 15MPH.
“You know I can’t actually run him over—” The driver, the aforementioned security officer who was conveniently on patrol.
“Just hit it, it’s to scare him obviously.” Felix, stomping a foot down on the gas pedal himself for an accelerant of 5MPH more, going full Mad M*x in broad daylight.
