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Excited chatter buzzed through the Syndicate tunnels and the rapping of boots on concrete echoed off the curved walls and low ceilings. The air was chilled and nipping but the bodies of the gang members were warm and sticky with sweat. They had been running, causing a bustle as they prepared themselves for whatever was to come. News travelled quickly in the underground and the word was that their esteemed leader Trix had something in store for them and that in itself was enough to arouse an eager soul.

It wasn’t unheard of for Trix to call a gathering of the whole gang but it always meant that something big was coming. Sometimes it meant a party or celebration, other times it meant a huge mission was underway. In the past it had meant war on the Blood Bond gang. What was in store no one but Trix herself knew and to find out they had but one choice: to gather.

At the core of the underground, right at the heart of the city, Trix stood. Her gang gathered around her, filing in and standing shoulder to shoulder, their eyes fixed on her with a wire cord. She wore her classic underground get up mixed with her training wear: black steel cap boots, black jeans, black vest top, fingerless training gloves and straps around her elbows and knees to protect them from impact. Her blue eyes scanned through the crowd as they continued to gather and a smirk gradually grew upon her features. Her babies were going to enjoy this.

The last of the Syndicate joined the gathered and Trix slowly raised a fist into the air above her head. She turned on the spot, making eye contact with as many as possible. After a few seconds the tunnels hushed until they fell into a silence eerie to any that weren’t the Syndicate. To them it was a form of stealth; it was natural. The brunette withdrew her hand and began strolling around the rim of the circle created by the people focused on her, her boots tapped quietly on the ground. She spoke, lifting her voice for all to hear.

“This ain’t just any old gatherin’, my darlin’s. This is a gatherin’ to go down in the record books an’ to be remembered through your life to your dyin’ days. We’re gonna start something today, right in this second and you’re all gonna to be part of it. Every single one of you are gonna make a tradition with me. Do you know what that tradition is?” She stopped and asked of a young girl with scruffy blonde bunches tied at either side of her head. The kid just eagerly shook her head up at the tall woman, excitement brimming at her eyes and displaying in her dimpled cheeks. Trix affectionately patted the girl on the head and smiled to her before continuing on, still catching eyes with as many people as humanly possible. “We’re gonna have a fight club, boys and girls. Fight club ain’t about winnin’ or losin’ a stoush. It ain’t about glory an’ fancy taunts. This ain’t a place for jaunts or lastin’ disagreements. It’s about becomin’ chiselled an’ carved. Not out of muscle – that’s what trainin’s for – but in your mentality. What happens in fight club stays there an’ what happens out of it don’t come nowhere into it. In fight club everyone’s equal. I don’t give a fuck if you’re a scout or a missionary or a cook or a cleaner – everyone fights everyone.”

Trix ceased in her strolling and she nodded to herself, letting her words settle in the air and embed themselves into everyone’s skulls. She couldn’t feel the anticipation building in the room and she couldn’t hold her own excitement in any longer. A grin broke out on her features and she continued on with the rules.

“The fight ends when the fighters call it, when a fighter taps out, when a fighter can’t fight no more, or when I call it. No one interferes with a fight. If you do, you fight me. Only encouragement shouted, no hecklin’. If you heckle, you fight me. Only those scheduled to fight, fight. Anyone tries to mess with that schedule, you fight me. You get the idea, lovelies. Over there,” Mummy Syndicate pointed her fingerless gloved hand at a large chalkboard that had a series of names scrawled on it in her handwriting, “Is the stousher board. You’re name’ll be next to someone else’s. That means you fight ‘em this month. Next month the names’ll change. Everyone fights everyone. This ain’t about bein’ strong and quick and bein’ the best fighter. This is about mentality. This is about bein’ the best that YOU can be. I think we can do this, darlin’s. Let’s get started.”

This task should help you to develop your character and think in more detail about what kind of person they are; what motivates them, and what holds them back.

You have until the 4th of August to complete this writing task.

Please tag the task with #fringetask and submit us a link to the post.

Please write this piece in past-tense, third person.

The minimum word count for this piece is 500 words, but there is no maximum. Go wild.