I know… It's a REALLY stupid idea to start ANOTHER multi-chapter fic while in the midst of two others that I'm already having trouble continuing… I just can't get this idea out of my head and I really want all ya'lls opinions on it to see if I should actually bother continuing it. I will be getting back to the other two fics asap, but for now… Here ya go.
A/N 1: I do not own Glee, nor do I own Fight Club, nor do I own any song lyrics used in this chapter.
A/N 2: This is going to have eventual Faberry, just sayin' it now. Don't like it, don't read it.
A/N 3: Semi-AU… You'll understand in the next couple chapters if I continue this.
A/N 4: Rated M for future violence, language and possible sexy times.
A/N 5: This is all un-Beta'd, so… All mistakes (Over use of commas and semi-colons, etc) are mine and mine alone.
Glancing at the clock, the brunette rolled silently out of bed. Stretching upwards, she suppressed a groan of satisfaction as her spine made several cracking noises.
Passing the closet containing her 'day time' attire, the girl knelt and opened the bottom drawer of her dresser. Reaching past the layers of jeans, she latched onto a pair of skin-tight black pants, a black sports bra and black tank-top. Slipping these on along with a black zipper-hoodie, she pulled her hair into a tight pony-tail. Lastly, she pulled on a pair of black, fingerless gloves that were marked with several silver and gold ink notches.
Checking her appearance in the mirror, the girl locked deep chocolate eyes with her mirror counter-part. Seeing the determination, excitement and playfulness reflected back at her, her lips quirked up into a smirk.
Gracefully spinning around, the brunette quietly slipped up the stairs, jumping nimbly over the steps that she'd learned would creak. Not that the sound really mattered, her basement was sound proofed, but a little precaution never hurt.
Stepping into the kitchen, she grabbed the black duffle bag hanging near the fridge. A six-pack each of water, Gatorade, beer and Red Bull along with a box of granola bars and a bag of apples joined the set of 'day' clothes already in the duffle.
One good thing about having dads that hardly acknowledged her anymore? They didn't notice anything she did, including what went in and out of the house.
Not that they would care about whatever I'm up to even if they did notice. The girl thought bitterly, before shaking away the negative thought; clearing her mind once again.
Slipping on a lightly padded leather jacket, the girl stepped out of the house, bare feet padding softly through slightly dewy grass. Grabbing her baby from where it was hidden behind the shed, she wheeled the deep red Ducati onto the road. Straddling the bike, she slipped on her helmet and wrapped the strap of the duffle bag around her waist. The engine started with a quiet roar, the vibrations of the motor coursing through the girl's body.
Blowing casually through the red lights and stop signs (the midnight to early morning police officers of Lima, Ohio seriously sucked at traffic control), she reached the warehouse in under twenty minutes and pulled up beside a truck with a tall, well muscled, mow-hawk sporting teen sitting in the bed. He was dressed similarly to the girl; loose black pants, black t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off and bare feet.
Slinging her helmet and jacket through the open truck window into the front seat, the brunette hopped over the edge of the truck bed, landing with hardly a bang due to the sound silencing foam laid into the bed. The boy silently offered her a cup of coffee which she latched onto, inhaling the warm aroma.
"Where's your girl, Puckerman?" The girl's voice was husky yet melodious.
"Has a tournament tomorrow, can't risk bruises or cuts and shit or she won't be allowed to wrestle."
Nodding the girl took a sip of coffee just as a sleek, royal blue Lamborghini pulled up next to them, followed by a dark green dirt-bike. The biker pulled off their helmet, allowing long blonde locks to cascade around her shoulders. Mirroring the brunette's earlier action, the girl tossed her helmet and riding jacket through the Lamborghini's open window into the back seat, revealing an artfully cut up, tight black t-shirt and leg-hugging black pants; she too was bare foot.
As she slipped gracefully off the bike she was joined by the driver of the car, a Latina with long black hair pulled into a pony-tail; tight black pants, a black tank-top that ended just above her belly-button and bare feet matched her to the rest of the group. The blonde pulled her own hair up into a tight pony-tail, allowing one loose lock to frame her light blue eyes.
Linking pinkies, the two girls leaned on the edge of the truck, both grabbing cups of coffee from the boy.
"Hey, Puck, Berry." The Latina greeted them with a nod.
"Satan, Britt." Rachel returned with a two-fingered wave. Finishing the last dregs of her coffee, she slid off the truck and began stretching. "Any information on who's all joining us tonight?"
"I heard there's some new blood." Puck replied as he joined her in stretching.
Rachel smirked as Santana fist pumped. "Yes! This'll be fun." She turned to Rachel, who was now doing hand stand push-ups, shirt slipping up to reveal a well defined set of abs. "Hey, Show off; you best get your gold marker ready, 'cause we gonna kick these new kids' asses." She and Brittany threw their, now empty, coffee cups into the truck bed before also beginning to stretch, using each other as balance.
"And you call me a show off." Rachel scoffed as she flipped, landing lightly on her feet, in order to watch the girls whose left legs were now pointing straight up, forming sideways splits; the only thing balancing them being their clasped hands, which were held at waist level. They didn't wobble a millimeter. Without breaking her concentration, the blonde bent the leg in the air farther, leaning more weight on her brunette counter-part. Santana showed no signs of struggle as she bent herself farther to accommodate her partner. Their legs brushed and they twisted them around each other before slowly releasing hands, still without a wobble. Hands reached to grasp the foot connecting each girl to the ground. Unwrapping their in-air legs, they slowly lowered them until they once more stood upright, matching triumphant grins gracing their faces.
Puck stepped forward. "My turn, babes." Backing up a good twenty feet from the three girls, he faced the back of his truck. Sprinting forward, he dove into a series of front flips. He reached the truck with his hands on the ground and, without missing a beat, bent his elbows, pushing off from the ground. With his hands landing on the truck edge, his body was still perpendicular to the ground and he performed another flip, landing upright, facing the cab of his truck. Placing his palms onto the roof of the truck, he slowly lifted his body back into the hand-stand position. Once more pushing off the vehicle, he 360-ed in mid-flip and landed in a crouch in front of his truck. Standing, he dusted off his hands and clothing, breath only flowing slightly heavier to and from his lungs.
"Damn it!" Rachel groaned. "Now you guys make me feel like I did nothing."
"Don't worry, Rach." Brittany slung an arm around the petite girl's shoulders. "You'll have plenty of time to show off while teaching the new people that you're a tiny concentrated steel wall and dynamite all rolled into one." Rachel smiled at the image of smirks being smashed off the faces of the unsuspecting and stereotyping new comers. Her body was small, but it was completely made up of muscle, energy and stamina. They wouldn't know what hit them.
The other three also should never be underestimated, and together the four were a deadly combination. They ruled with a combination of intense training, raw talent and an unbreakable bond of loyalty and trusted with each other.
Hopping back into the truck bed, Rachel pulled open her duffle bag, tossing a Gatorade to each of her companions. Tapping the four bottles together, they each took a long sip. Brittany then pulled a set of arm bands from a compartment under the seat of her bike; passing the red one to Rachel, the blue one to Santana, the white one to Puck and keeping the green on for herself. Finally, Santana passed out small black towels and equally black medical tape to wrap around their hands, forearms, feet and ankles; protecting them from broken bones.
It was their ritual every time they had a club meet. Puck brought the coffee. Rachel brought food and drink. Brittany brought their bands and make-up for them to conceal any visible injuries from teachers, classmates, friends, family and acquaintances (only Puck could get away with regular signs of injury, since his participation in 'random brawls' was common knowledge). Lastly, Santana brought medical equipment (her house was always stocked with it due to having two doctors for parents) and towels.
When Lauren joined them she brought nothing but insults; however, the girls tolerated her for Puck's sake and because she was a capable fighter.
Just as Rachel slipped her gloves back over her freshly wrapped hands, each of their cell phone alarms went off simultaneously.
I fight authority, Authority always wins. Well, I fight authority, Authority always wins. Well, I've been doing it since I was a young kid; I come out grinnin'. Well, I fight authority, Authority always wins. (Puck)
Yeah, you're fucked all right – and all for spite. You can kiss your sorry ass goodbye. Totally fucked – will they mess you up?Well you know they're gonna try.
Blah, blah, blah blah, blah, blah, blah
Blah, blah, blah blah, blah, blah, blah (Rachel)
Take me, I'm alive. I never was a girl with a wicked mind; But everything looks better when the sun goes down. I had everything, opportunities for eternity, and I could belong to the night.
Eyes, your eyes; I can see in your eyes, your eyes, you make me wanna die. (Santana)
But when schoolgirl pigtails won't do, and I need to control my do; you're the only one I can count on. My headband; you're my headband. (Brittany)
They formed a familiar line; Rachel's arms wrapped around Puck and Brittany's waists; Brittany and Santana each with an arm wrapped around the other's upper back, halfway to groping each other; and Puck with an arm draped around Rachel's shoulders, keeping its distance from her boob (He'd learned his lesson after receiving a broken pinky as a warning the first time). Confidence radiated off of them as they entered the warehouse.
So… How do you like my quadrangle of badassery?
Puck = Authority Song – John Mellencamp
Rachel = Totally Fucked – Spring Awakening
Santana = Makes Me Wanna Die – The Pretty Reckless
Brittany = My Headband – Lea Michele
Anyways… Thoughts? Comments? Concerns? Anger? Love?
Seriously, please Review, I would be forever grateful, and it might help spur me into working on updates for all my fics.