A bit too insane

So Tyler had spent his day bitching at everyone in the gym, and had been way too honesty with the people who paid his salary.

He'd finally got sent home for calling someone who wanted to fight him his first day in the gym delusional.

"I hate the world and I need a drink," he yelled into the living room. This ... passed for hello.

Right, so Tyler had spent the last two weeks of his life (since he got his life back) sabotaging a Project Mayhem plan to blow up a bridge. He'd pulled it off, but barely, and not in the prettiest of ways.

He really, really was not in the mood to deal with asshole security guards just so he could see his ... whatever-Tony-was-these-days.

Sadly, his mood didn't matter. He had to pitch a fit to end all fits at the front desk until somebody called Pepper. She'd sounded pinched on the phone, like she thought she was done with this particular headache and good riddance, but had given the guards permission to escort Mr. Durden into the inner sanctum.

He thanked them as elegantly as a guy with a busted nose could manage, then called into the depths of the lab. he thought there was motion back there. "Tony?" he said, as if it hadn't been three months. "It's me."

[OOC: For that guy.]

Tyler had a feeling he was going to have that black eye for a long fucking time. It was all right. It helped draw attention from the swollen jaw.

He'd finally tracked down a Fight Club branch that was more than a couple drunk guys who liked to pound on each other. It wasn't a terrorist cell, yet, but he could tell they were on the brink. So he'd gone to a meeting and tried to fight his way into a position of influence.

The problem was, he was way out of practice. He'd beaten the numbnuts who called himself Tyler, but the fight had left him in a sorry state. He winced when he checked himself in the mirror of his motel room. He had a feeling people in Fandom would have something to say about the way he looked. Hell, he had something to say about the way he looked, and it wasn't very nice.

Ice pack against his chin and feeling a bit sorry for himself, he pulled out his phone and texted Tony.

buffalo = rainy. me = beat up but ok. you?

[OOC: NFB. For Tony, please.]

Right, so the chatter online about Project Mayhem 2.0 had intensified instead of dying down. Wednesday night, Tyler had gotten into a three-hour IM war with one of the ringleaders that ended with the numskull proclaiming "We are all Tyler Durden," as if that settled things. But what Tyler had gotten out of the guy before he retreated behind a wall of cliché was not reassuring. They'd finally found somebody who could make paraffin bombs work. The list of targets was a couple screens long.

It was time for Tyler to have a little chat with them. The kind of chat that took place in person.

They sounded disorganized enough that he figured he had a few days -- long enough to make sure Tony was someplace relatively safe and stick around to see the last few people who had started at Fandom with him graduate. For now, though, he sent out an ( email )

In Tyler-speak, that meant "I'll miss you all." He settled in to box things up, leaving the office door open.

[OOC: This is probably one of his last posts, at least for the time being. *clings* If you want to stop by and see him and weren't on the email, feel free to handwave other notification.]

Tyler was sleeping.

well, kind of.

Okay, so he was watching QVC. But he was lying down, so it counted.

He knew the day after prom traditions on the island, but he wasn't all that concerned about the kids. Estella had been ... surprisingly sweet, once he got used to her. He wouldn't mind if she showed up again. And if nobody did, well, that meant more time to stare at the idiot box and contemplate how much plastic surgery it took to look like Joan Rivers.

He shifted just enough to turn the volume up, relatively at peace.

[OOC: For two, I believe.]

Hi,

We've hit the part of the year where every weekend is a different random bout of awesome, and that tends to cut into Fight Club participation for some strange reason. As it looks right now, the only normal Fight Club sessions left in the school year are April 4 and April 18. We plan to have open sparring the other weekends. It's likely FC will go to some kind of alternate schedule for the summer, too, so those may be the last meetings for a while.

If you want an RNG'd fight, please sign up below. We'll try to set up everybody who asks for one.

(... also, where did this school year go?)

It wasn't anything new for baby Tyler to wake up in his car seat in a strange place, and this strange place wasn't all that bad. It smelled okay. There were all kinds of interesting things to look at on the floor. A man lay in the bed making funny noises.

He wasn't sure where Mommy was, though. She wasn't in bed next to the man making the funny noises the way she usually was. That unsettled him, but not too badly. Mommy always turned up.

He relaxed, wet his diaper, and sucked on a few fingers as he watched shadows play against the walls.

Eventually, he realized he was hungry. He whimpered a few times, and when Mommy didn't come, he let out a full-blown -

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH."


( And a detective goes to work. )

[OOC: Preplayed with the shiny not_ironmaiden. NFI. Tyler is the baby from The Hangover, Tony is Sherlock Holmes himself.]

Tyler spent his office hours today getting into yet more squabbles on the Internet. It turned out that saying one of the brothers on Spooky Things was hotter than the other one was all you needed to do.

Fangirls made for easy prey.

[OOC: Open office hours, sure.]

Tyler was trying to work on his lecture for Monday, but it wasn't going so well. He kept letting little things distract him: The flash of a new message in Gmail, the hiss of his heater, the dark brown rain hitting his window.

He leaned back to stare at the rain, pretty much spaced out. It was a good thing no one was sneaking up behind him.

[OOC: Open office hours!]

There was fighting to do. Of course two superheroes, a samurai, and a .... guy who randomly liked to blow things up would be out, trying to defend the island.

Tyler was armed with high, heavy boots, a baseball bat, and a handgun tucked into his jeans. He just had one question as the group assembled:

"Nate, you're seriously going to use a sword?"

[OOC: For Steve, Tony + Algren, pls.]