Fight Club Graphic Novels & Stories

Might as well enjoy some tits while I wait. I flip up my hood for the walk; the probability that I’ll run into somebody I know is slim, but one can never be too safe. When I open the door, the music and the smell of cheap perfume and liquor assault my senses. I walk up to the bouncer standing beside a little table with a cash box on it. He’s almost my height but significantly larger and he’s got a handgun holstered on his right side. Makes sense. If you’re gonna run an underground fight club, just being intimidating is not enough protection. I’m sure this guy knows he would lose in a fight to most of the fighters that walk through those doors. “Cover is 10$,” He tells me. I pull my wallet ou

He pinned her to a tree “Do not move, I won’t take too long.” She rolled her eyes and scoffed. He looked at her more sternly and she shrugged and nodded. He ran in the direction of the oncoming men. She watched his accurate movements, the three of them circled him and attacked. He ducked when a punch came, and moved sideways to avoid the jab of a knife. Xavier pulled out his sword and slit a throat. He wiped some blood from his face, he faced the remaining two.

He felt ashamed, which I assumed it was from him forgetting my abilities. “I’ll manage.” I took a deep breath and collected myself. Damian was rubbing his hand up and down my back, trying to help relax me. As we got to the door, I took one last deep breath and prepared myself. The bouncer held out his hand as Damian put a yellow card into it. He looked at it before opening the door, allowing us to enter. I had never been to an undergrown fight club, but this wasn’t what I pictured. It was a large wrestling ring in the middle of a chain-link fence. There were vampires, witches and wolves mixed in with humans and no one gave a shit about the other. I kept my aura deep within as I watched a vam

Alice sighed before she stood up straight and delivered the final bullet to his head. It was almost nine when she got to Walsh Hanson’s fight club. Walsh was a stubby fellow, polite when he needed to be and always paid his dues to Don Diablo on time. He had been running this fighting ring for as long as Alice could remember, and a lot of men came in to fight for cash and a few additional strings. If some were lucky, they were offered the opportunity to join Walsh’s club if they wanted. This was the place to be on a Saturday night, if someone was interested in seeing women and men kicking the shit out of each other. Alice had heard that a skilled fighter was coming to fight one of Walsh’s box

He raised his knuckle right then, projecting his pure vigor and materializing a steel gauntlet as he launched a punch at Frank's cheek. The jailer was actually Birthright ranked! "Watch out!" Scarface, who was panting after taking down the flunkie, barely had the time to react when he saw Tigris launching a jab at Frank's face. And judging from the thick pure vigor enveloping Tigris' knuckle, he was not just intent on beating Frank—he clearly intended to kill! If the punch struck true… Scarface flinched—if he were in Frank's face, his face would blow up like a watermelon, with the pieces scattering everywhere.

I practically snatch the phone out of Mika’s hand, staring intensely at the digital poster glowing on the screen. It’s a promotional fight flyer for an underground match. In the center of the dark, gritty graphic sits Trey. He’s shirtless, his mouthwatering physique on display, those icy orbs staring nonchalantly into the camera. Next to him is another fighter–a huge bald guy whose biceps look like tree trunks. He appears even bigger and broader than Trey. The bold, bloody typography across the flyer reads: THE VAULT UNDERGROUND: NIGHT OF BLOOD & GLORY DON'T MISS THE EPIC SHOWDOWN OF THE CENTURY!

"I'm here now. And the rules in this city have officially changed. Elena is my woman. If you breathe in her direction, you answer to me." "Never!" Graham shouted, his eyes going totally wide and wild with a sudden, manic burst of adrenaline. He swung his right fist toward my jaw with a clumsy, slow trajectory that was honestly embarrassing to watch. Years behind a desk had made him soft, stripped away whatever fighting instinct he might have once possessed. The punch telegraphed itself from a mile away, all shoulder and no technique. I didn't even bother dodging. I just reached out, my left hand snapping around his wrist like a steel handcuff before his knuckles could even brush my skin.

They knew clashing with me would land them into a unnecessary bloodshed on a fair day let alone when I was pissed. And I was goddamn apoplectic today. I already tore down three training halls, dismantled fifty punching bags and sent my half-breed manager at Vilkas Corp. to the ER. Underground fight club was my ultimate choice. Nothing beat the pleasure of releasing aggression on raw flesh and self-healing bones, and I had enough rushing through my veins like rough vesicular lava ready to overflow and massacre the whole world down to ashes. Specifically, one man. Vicente Allard.

“You may not believe it, but fighting in that ring was how I got the capital to start my club.” I twist to look at him. “You… fought?” He nods. “I did.” “You must’ve fought a lot to save that much.” “It wasn't just about the money. I love taking punches.” I don't have time to react to that before a bell rings. Two new fighters enter the ring. One is bald, lean, with a long scar down the side of his jaw. The other is thicker, broader. The crowd leans in closer, like wolves scenting fresh meat.

Swoosh, swoosh, swoosh! At that moment, a group of people rushed out and beat Longman and his entourage up on the ground. The people cried out for their mommies and daddies. They were covered in bruises. The people who appeared were Fatty Frank, Angel, and the other members of Team Five. As they beat Longman and the others up, they also taught them a lesson. “No, f*ck you! You’d better watch your mouth.” “How dare you act so arrogantly here?”