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.
The comment wasn’t directed at anyone in particular, since there was no sign of Felix. Octavio had grown used to talking to himself--commentary could make or break a stream, after all. He slowed to a light jog as he looked over his shoulder for any sign of the other guy.
Octavio slowed to a stop, planting his hands on his hips and gazing disappointingly at the students milling about campus. ❝ Well, that was bo--heh... ❞
Cut off by the threat, he jogged in place, staring down the golf cart that came careening at him. He had to admit, he was kind of impressed at the speed he was getting on that thing. Fortunately, he knew from experience that the turning radius on those things was crap, and if they tried at the speed they were going, they’d tip.
❝ You wish! ❞ he called, breaking into a full sprint directly at the golf cart. Bravery and stupidity went hand in hand, and Octavio didn’t look the least bit afraid at the potential of being flattened by the campus security mobile. ❝ My legs never get tired anymore! ❞
It really did look like Octavio was just going to run head on into the golf cart. He was trying his own scare tactic--a game of chicken with a moving vehicle. At the very last moment he could spare, he dodged to the side, using a nearby water fountain to ricochet off of and launch himself upwards. There was an audible crunch as he cratered both feet into a sizable dent on the roof of the golf cart. It wobbled under the added unsteady weight, and he leaped off, tearing away behind them.
❝ You said no items! I was ready to excuse the sword, but this is cheating! ❞ He gave a raspy laugh, clearly not that upset about it. This just made things more exciting!
