Mortal Combat

Mortal Combat is my upcoming novel. It is a parody of Fight Club set in London. Rather than go into fine details, I wish to show you some excerpts from the book.

These are quotes from the main man in the book called Gabriel Delourve, done in the form of speeches.

Gabriel's Speech

With the light flickering off his shaved head, Gabriel says, “In the arena of Mortal Combat, I witness the most unparalleled strength and intelligence of men throughout an entire era. I witness prowess, yet I see shadows. My word, the birth of an entire generation hooked up to screens, payment plans and flash sales. Consumer society has us worried about barcodes and credit scores. Bound by the chains of commercials singing at us with the illusion of happiness persistent enough through the latest label. We work in offices, to feed the monster for the now. We are the forgotten tribe of an epoch. There is no battlefront, no enemy. Our battlefront is a mental battle. Our enemy is ourselves. We’ve all been trapped in the cycle of acquisition with the promise one day we will be titans, immortals and legends. We will never be. And the realisation of that is slowly sinking in. And we are going to get very angry about this.”

The Signature Smiley Scar

“To steal blood,” says Gabriel, “We go to the blood bank.”

So later Gabriel had already jumped down from the fence with my red jacket used as the protection on the barbed wire. I was top of the fence and the barbed wire has still got me wobbling so that my white shirt is snagged until I fall. My shirt ripped. Gabriel helped me up.

This was the blood blank at The Royal London Hospital.

We can hear footsteps.


Gabriel pulled me behind one of the dozen large containers. The flashlight leads the way as we can see the silhouette move along the area.

We emerge and get down to business.

Gabriel grabs the lid of the large container. Gabriel says, “The best blood for our needs comes from humans and it’s rich with life.” Gabriel lifts the lid very carefully to make no sound. From the dumpster, Gabriel pulls out an industrial sized, thick plastic bag full of red liquid.

Gabriel says, “Blood donations.” From society’s healthiest veins and arteries. Gabriel and I climb back over the fence, carrying the bags of blood. One of my bags rip on the barbwire.

The liquid is spilling down the chain link fence. Gabriel was trying to save the running blood by using his hands to try and guide it back into the path of the bag.

A blood stain is orange after you wash it. I slipped until I fell again and Gabriel laughed. Then we head back to Gabriel’s house.

Gabriel and I poured the blood into the best wine glasses we had.

“Since the dawn of civilization blood has been a tightly regulated and secretive business," Gabriel says. “It’s strange to think about, isn’t it? Garlic is our first line of defense. Sunlight provides us vitamin D. Yet blood? Blood is the most energizing of all drinks. The idea of blood as a precious commodity isn’t as far fetched as it might initially seem. In fact, blood has long been trafficked in the shadowy underbelly of a society where the black market is the stage and the human is trafficked for the blood from their own veins. People will never believe it but it is the tradition that stretches back to ancient times. Once, in the forgotten corners of history, there were secret societies that venerated the blood of life. To them, blood was the ultimate currency, a token of power that transcended any material possession. They believed that by consuming the blood of the strong, they could absorb their strength and their power. Their beliefs were buried in the sands of time and the myths were born whilst the rest of blood drinkers gave rise to the clandestine trade that goes on until this day. Blood is collected, stored, and sold to the highest bidder, under the lies, secrecy and cover ups of the night. This blood market never disappeared. The selling of blood evolved as the trade adapted to our modern world. Today, they say that blood is donated out of goodwill, a lifesaving alchemy for those in need. The curious thing is there always seems to be a shortage. Demand beats supply every day. Those ancient tribes discovered an increase in their strength if they drank the spilled blood of a killed warrior. With each passing year, battles were fought and the blood fell. The first drink was made from the blood of the warriors. Like the first men on the front line sent into war.”

“Without war, without warriors,” Gabriel says. “Without blood, there is nothing.”

Gabriel picks up a combat knife from the table.

“This is a weapon,” Gabriel says.

Gabriel stood before me with the knife in his hand.

Gabriel says, “Recall what you agreed three times.”

A spec of blood dripped from his lips.

“If there was just enough blood,” Gabriel says. “Then the blood would be everything. Without your sacrifice, without your blood, you are nothing.”

“Your hand will be seriously damaged for some time if not completely lost. This is going to hurt but you are going to adapt.” Gabriel says, my hand was on the table as I leaned. “You will have a superficial stab wound in your hand.” Gabriel stabbed the knife right through my hand and the table.

Shut the eyes. Quickly. I am going to find The Forest of Serendipity. I need to go inside my mind and find my inner child. I’m going inside my mind and I’m go to find the cliff on the top of mountainside. Don’t think of anything right now. Nothing. Just find the spiritual child.

I say, this is hurting.

“No,” shouts Gabriel. “Forget about the mindfulness. Forget about how ordinary people get through this. Forget everything you have ever bothered to learn.”

My mind is racing.

I can see Ai in the forest, she is pulling her heart and showing it to me in the palm of her hands with a wicked smile on her face and she is in the red dress.

“Listen to me.” Gabriel says. “You have been going through the false negative of becoming death. No.” I can see the mountaintop cliff side with the fire.

I say, I might lose this hand.

“No.” Gabriel shouted. “Stop with the bullshit. Follow my voice. Come back to real world. Open your eyes for once in your life.”

I’m looking into the eye of the Godzilla amphibian and the eye gets closer and deep inside pupil I see red as it becomes the fire on the top of the mountainside.

“No. Wake up.” Gabriel shouted. “The role models everywhere are the prototypes for ancestors and the gods. So to the role models, if ignorance is bliss, then what does this tell us about the ancestors and the gods?”

I say, what?

With in my mind is the glass of blood being poured so much it overfills and runs over so that the blood spills everywhere until that blood becomes someone’s red dress and it is Ai by the tree and she has that wicked smile in the red dress. She lifts her head up to see me coming towards her. Ai is smiling as I walk towards her and she seems excited. Ai stands up and begins to dance.

“No.” says Gabriel. “Listen. The probability here is if we look at role models as the prototypes then whoever God is out there, has no knowledge of you at all. He does not know you. He wouldn’t want to know you and just like the illegitimate son or the illegitimate daughter born out of wedlock, He would not believe something like you was real but this is one of the greatest things that could happen. Fuck salvation. Fuck transubstantiation. Fuck this entire façade of a God committing suicide in an abortion of his discarded sons and daughters. We have no civilization anymore as it was previously known, with no understanding of how we have got here. Be that as it may, if we are all God’s illegitimate offspring? Then we are the living dead, so to speak, as we unconsciously enter the twilight of idols where you have corruption of devils masquerading as heroes, whilst the rest of us are left to pick up the pieces like a pack of hungry dogs, and so the mask of the hero is counterfeited always, as the reflection cast back at the society concerned with the propaganda of images where once man’s greatest defiance becomes the mimicry belonging to hypocrites. The prevalent rhetoric is recycled perpetually into the repressed worship of material possessions where the misunderstood finite resource is amalgamated right back into the awoken cadaver that was ritually possessed as the imitated clone of the very notion of God that is gone now. God is not only dead but surely damned and in hell if there was one. Civilization must be destroyed.”

The human hand is made of twenty seven bones, along with muscles, tendons, ligaments, nerves and blood vessels. There might be damage to the deep structure, mostly involving flexor tendons and there might even be damage to the median nerve which is connects to the fingers and thumb. Gabriel says, “No. Listen to me. Don’t rush over to the sterile trays and pour antiseptic over your wound. Do not block anything out, the light will be blinding as you open your eyes and they will hurt as you have never used your sight before. You can take the shot of the anesthetic injection from me, but the first step is you will never back down and you always fight to the death. Consider one day you are in the fields of Ireland and you are free from anything, where you have found peace. So do fear not my son, for you are in Anthen Rye and you are dead.”

I say, have you ever had a knife stabbed through your hand?

Gabriel smiled. He pulls back his sleeve to show me, revealing the signature smiley scar, where no doubt Gabriel had once stabbed himself just like this.

My eyes had welled up by.

Gabriel yanked the knife out and as he held up the knife to the light, I collapsed to the ground. Gabriel injected the syringe into my hand covered in blood.

FHumanity Speech

“Picture this,” Gabriel says. “You are hiding amongst the ancient ruins of a lost civilization, where the city centres have become lush forests and the remnants of humanity dwell amidst the shadow of the beasts; once grand malls and theatres are now the hunting grounds of leopards and wild dogs, and you will be living in underground safe havens in subway stations that have become your refuge. The apex predators will stalk you, whilst you scavenge in an equilibrium where the superstore is dead and replaced by the wild. The branches will be your pathways and the open wide trunks will be your home. You will climb the trees and swing and hang, and you will look down and see the tribespeople collecting berries at the bushes and reaping apples for their reward. You’ll track away from lions in the overgrown streets around the remnants of Piccadilly Circus, and on the morrow you will wash in the clear streams that flow where The Shard once pierced the heavens. The countries will be a playground for the wild, with crows ruling from its towers and foxes making dens in the courtyards. The secret garden will echo with the chirps and melodies of birds. Every sunset, humanity will huddle in ancient halls, gazing out as the night is claimed by owls. You will running near the grapevine entwined remains of the London Eye and you’ll climb the forearm wide sinews of ivy enveloped around the Tower Bridge. You’ll walk through thick green canopies where the air is so pristine and then you’ll see clans building fires and children laughing on the deserted platforms of the London Underground, with the hustle silenced by the heartbeat of the natural renaissance, ushered in by the return to the age of the wilderness.”

Extreme Measures

The Major in London was giving his speech at City Hall. We all saw it on the news.

Some street fighters were at the speech, watching The Major talk as ordinary citizens.

The Major says, “Ladies and gentlemen, citizens of London, we have recently unearthed information regarding underground MMA groups which seem to be linked to an animal rights activist group known as FHumanity. London has always been for individual rights and peaceful protest but we will not tolerate actions that endanger lives and break our laws. I’m announcing a new formal investigation into this matter, to ensure the safety of every Londoner.”

Later that day, the Mayor of London rode his bicycle. Turning off the main road, he navigated the narrower streets. I see this as clearly as Gabriel does.
We ambushed him in the alleyway.

There was fourteen of us, Gabriel and I included and we were all dressed in black tuxes with monkey masks on. Gabriel attacks the Major, pulling him by the neck deeper into the alleyway. He quickly wraps duct tape around the Major’s mouth.

The rest of the members of FHumanity close in and guard the situation. I was standing by the end of the alleyway on watch. Gabriel and the other street fighters hold the Major, as two of the street fighters remove his trousers. In his hand, Edward clinks a heavy duty bolt cutter.

Gabriel says, “Get it into position.”

Edward says, “His dick is too small.” Edward proceeds to position the bolt cutter around The Major’s genitals. The Major looks horrified as his eyes stare at the monkey masks. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing.

Gabriel says, “Your formal investigation is over, Major. You are going to go on record and declare that any information about the MMA group was fabricated. Otherwise, we have situation that ends with you walking home without your masculinity. Don’t fret though, gender is exclusive.”

The Major could only speak in vowels due to the duct tape on his mouth.

Gabriel says, “We will castrate you. We will cut your penis into four quarters, one for each part of the UK. We will send the first part to the Guardian, the second part to The Times, the third part to The Daily Telegraph and the fourth part to The Independent. Breaking news style. You will be known as the eunuch. Get it, big shot? The enemy before you are the very souls you lean upon so willfully. We are your security. We are your friends. We are everywhere. You can’t escape us. We serve you drinks, we bring you food. We drive your posh cars and we take your children to school.    We are the eyes which you do not see. You cannot fuck with us.”

The fifth law in FHumanity is without Gabriel, we have not trust. The Major of London had the shock of his lifetime.

As we departed, I saw Gabriel patting devil eyes on the back, as he began to send street fighters off in different directions.

My name is Moe’s forlorn shadow of doubt.

FHumanity Speech II

Terrible footage of animals in dire living conditions began to play. Scenes from factory farms depicted animals facing horrific treatments and eventual slaughter in the modern industrial practice.

Gabriel’s voice arose through the speakers, “Or maybe is it because we sing praises for Elon Musk’s grand visions for the future, even when we’re aware that he smashed Neuralinks into Chimpanzee’s skulls for a glimpse of technological evolution? Or maybe it’s because the realisation has dawned on us that most our eco warriors are just more brand ambassadors and all our sustainable efforts are just another mere drop in the ocean. We sit around and share photos of vegan meals, whilst we collectively turn that blind eye to the mass slaughterhouses and the horrors of factory farming. Our activism is reduced to bullshit hashtags. How much longer will we dare not to look? Do we accept this? Perhaps not through our heartfelt speeches but we do through our clicks, our views and our shares. This isn’t a conspiracy. We’re well aware of our decadent hypocrisy. It’s not because of our reusable straws or faux leather jackets that apparently define our commitment, but because as usual we all want to fit in. The truth is a drug that none of us can handle. When the tide comes in, we are all danger of drowning. Damn it. FUCK HUMANITY."