They had finally settled on how to begin with the many scenes; for days, they'd been doing great work on how to revolutionize cinema. But it was the next scene that Billy would love. Now that he had the time to take on a powerful scene, all he needed was to prepare, drawing on a vibe that felt closer to his inner thoughts.
–Alright, gentlemen, we need to shoot this the best way possible.– said Billy. He was so deeply immersed in his role that it seemed he was completely reconnected. He made love to Monica every day in the most indecent ways, always with that daring flair of his, writhing for three hours straight—and during those hours, the two of them floated through beautiful paradises, counting the minutes for everything to fall into perfect rhythm. Billy's rough, intense energy began when they started filming in the courtyard, where the courtyard gave life, and life became the base to plug into, and when every feature was etched in.
–Then you'd better be ready for Fight Club.– Edward chimed in, also entrenched and leaning in to bring the moment to life.
Although it didn't always show, Helena was strikingly beautiful. There was heat to her being—each of her features gave them space to connect, yet she was undeniably fiery. There was something raw and rotten that stirred between them when they danced in their unique styles.
Wearing her red jacket and a white shirt with purple stripes, she had a perfect look for the scene. One of those iconic moments where everything seems to align, where everything draws attention, and Billy's monologue was so compelling that it drew people in by the mere mention of it. It would someday be remembered as a great film, perfectly tailored for those sticky, jagged gaps.
–Action.–
INTERIOR. TAVERN BASEMENT – SAME
A BOMB SHELTER. Concrete walls. A bare light bulb overhead. Tyler stands just below the bar. Everyone's eyes are on the crowd around them, time slipping in and out like a distant trace. Cameras were rolling, many were watching, but everything moved quickly—and when Helena's bohemian spirit entered the mix, it always hit the mark.
TYLER: Welcome to Fight Club.
The guys gather, searching for a partner. Everyone is brimming with excitement, trying to act composed. The chatter grows louder.
They all spread out, forming a circle, with Tyler at the center.
For now, the filming and narration would focus on a single, quick, restrained portrait.
JACK (V.O.): Every week, Tyler laid out the rules that he and I had come up with.
The murmur intensifies until Tyler raises his arms, and everything quiets down.
A few coughs. Shuffling feet. Then—silence.
TYLER: The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club. The third rule is: if someone yells "Stop!" or taps out, the fight is over. The fourth rule: only two guys to a fight. The fifth rule: one fight at a time. The sixth rule: no shirts, no shoes. The seventh rule: fights will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule: if this is your first night at Fight Club, you have to fight.
Tyler steps back. A short guy, Ricky, and a man with a goatee take off their shirts and shoes and head to the center.
JACK (V.O)
This guy, Ricky, a store clerk, couldn't even remember if you asked for blue or black pens…
The two fighters circle, then start throwing PUNCHES...
–Cut.–
–Adjust cameras three and four. And you, take off your shirt. Get some makeup on him. I want to see men get beaten up.– said David.
–I'll do what I can, boss.– said Alex McDowell, head of design and production. —his job was like painting over, sealing in the right features.
–Action.–
JACK V.OO.)
But for ten minutes last week, Ricky was a god—when he beat an actuary twice his size.
Fists fly faster and harder between them. Sweat arcs through the air.
The SHOUTS grow deafening. Ricky's taking the upper hand over the Goatee Man, BEATING HIM...
JACK V.O.O..)
Sometimes all you could hear was the sharp, hard slaps over the yelling—or the wet gasp when someone caught their breath and sprayed…
They filmed the scene from multiple angles, capturing every form and movement.
GOATEE MAN
(lips pressed tight)
Stop!
Tyler crashes to the ground, face-first. His opponent drops onto him, wrestling to choke him out. The crowd around them, including Jack, yells at them...
Tyler and his opponent wrestle wildly. Tyler flips him over, climbs on top, and stretches to pin him. Then Tyler shifts and starts punching his opponent in the groin... It's curious—when there are no stunt doubles, and sometimes a punch slips through. The way they approached the choreography—it was fake, but it was real. David added a layer of foam to the floor that looked hard, but wasn't. It was soft, like cotton.
Jack lands a few blows to his opponent's stomach, then delivers a left uppercut that crushes his jaw.
Small splashes of blood stain the walls, mixing with sweat.
Jack sees Tyle, his face swollen, watching him with admiration, a slow smile forming on his lips.
JACK V.O.)
Fight Club wasn't about winning or losing. It wasn't about words.
The opponent recovers and locks Jack in a headlock. Jack pulls his arm back to counter. They wrestle like wild animals. The crowd cheers frantically.
JACK V.O.O.)
The screams were like tongues in a Pentecostal church.
The spectators kneel to follow the fight, shouting LOUDER.
The opponent slams Jack's head into the ground again and again.
JACK
...stop...
JACK (V.O)
When the fight was over, nothing was resolved—but nothing mattered.
Everyone gathers as the opponent steps away. Tyler pushes through the crowd. Others help Jack to his feet. They look down at the floor, where Jack's blood-smeared face mirrors the tear-stained shirt of Bob.
TYLER: Awesome.
Jack weakly shakes his opponent's hand.
OPPONENT: How about next week?
JACK: Look at me. How about next month?
They help Jack walk. He's drenched in sweat, bleeding, and smiling.
JACK V.O.O.)
Afterwards, we all felt safe.
–Cut.–
–That's a lot of scenes.– Edward whispered, looking wrecked after the pounding against the mats.
–It's satisfying when we hit each other.– said Billy.
–I'm gonna hit you hard next time.– replied Edward.
–Shut up. I'd beat you with one hand tied.– laughed Billy. –Ahhahaha, man, I wish things were like a colorful diorama, where each of us did our part, like toys on a farm.–
–Seems tough—people struggle with that. It wouldn't be a diorama. It'd be a 3D model.– said Edward.
–You're nuts. You even respond to my dumbest ramblings.– Billy laughed. –Try listening—if I start talking about shoulder injuries, you'll probably bring up your own.–
–Sorry, I've been up for thirty hours.– said Edward.
–I think it's time to rest.– said Billy.
A woman came over to apply makeup—painting his forehead, adding prosthetics to his face. Eight hours in a small studio, simulating blows in that dry, lethargic fashion.
...