“The first rule of Bright Club is, do not
talk about Bright club. The second rule of Bright Club is: do not
talk about Bright Club.” Excuse me for breaking that all-importing
first and second rule, but some stories are just too good, too weird and wild and borderline
unbelievable, to pass up telling. It had been an exceptionally boring day at
the SCP Foundation, the sort of boredom not even his usual pranks had been able to break
up, so Dr. Bright was unwinding with a good old-fashioned movie night. He settled into his favorite overstuffed bean
bag chair, sat down a big bowl of popcorn, and pressed play on his first flick of the
night. This one was a recommendation from Dr. Clef,
a 90s film called "Fight Club." He didn't pay too much attention to the bit
about the nihilistic struggles of the modern American, but when the fighting scenes started...he
couldn't help but get pumped up. Look at all that punching! The sight of those guys standing in a circle,
cheering each other on as they fist fought in a dark basement. It looked...awesome! Dr. Bright had seen more than enough, why
would he need to watch the last hour of the movie? He turned off the tv, and began outlining
a plan of his own. When he needed it the most, "Fight Club" had
given him the inspiration he so desperately wanted. It was all so clear: He, Dr. Jack Bright,
would start his own Fight Club- but with an SCP Foundation twist! But before he could set his plan into motion,
he needed to run it by the most logical person he could think of. "Dr. Gears!" He called, knocking on the man's office door. "I'm busy, Jack. What is it?" Dr. Gears looked up from the stack of paperwork
in front of him. "I've been thinking...what if I started a
Fight Club of my own, here at the Foundation?" Dr. Gears sighed heavily. "That's the worst idea I've heard all week. And yesterday you asked if we could leash
train SCP-682." "You sure? I thought it would be a really cool idea." Dr. Bright pouted. "No. It's terrible. Don't do it. Could you shut the door when you leave?" Dr. Gears took a large sip of black coffee,
and turned back to his paperwork without another word. Dr. Bright was a little disappointed that
Dr. Gears wasn't on board with his amazing plan, but hey, in this world some people are
true visionaries, and others just can't wrap their minds around innovative new ideas. It would have been nice to have a numbers
guy to help with the basic ins and outs of running a Fight Club, but, like all his best
ideas, it seemed that he would just have to handle everything himself. Gears would thank him later, when he saw firsthand
how completely awesome it was to pack a room full of anomalies and make them fight each
other. So, now that he was resigned to his role as
a maverick, setting out on his grand venture alone, it was time to recruit the best anomalies
he could find and assemble the ultimate Dream Team. First, he would need a referee, someone to
keep the competitors in line and make sure they didn't break any of his rules. Of course, he'd also have to come up with
more than two rules first, but he'd cross that bridge when he got to it. That was Future Jack's problem. For now, who would be impartial enough, fair
and balanced enough, to keep everyone on their best behavior? A proverbial lightbulb went off over Dr. Bright's
head, and he knew just who to ask. SCP-343, also known as God, was sitting in
the canteen and enjoying a grilled cheese sandwich when he turned to see Dr. Bright
looking at him with the kind of beaming grin that said "I need a favor." "Oh, hello Jack! What can I do for you?" 343 asked. Dr. Bright gave him the pitch, including a
few visual aids in the form of posters he had hastily drawn depicting various SCP battles
he hoped to see take place. On the final poster, he had drawn a stick
figure depiction of SCP-343, wearing a striped uniform and holding a whistle, keeping the
peace in the ring. "So, what do you think?" Dr. Bright asked. "You're going to go through with this whether
I agree to help or not, aren't you?" God sighed. Dr. Bright nodded enthusiastically. "Alright, I'll participate. I don't have anything else going on today." With a referee officially on board, Dr. Bright
set out to find his next recruit. He popped in to SCP-049's containment cell,
where the Plague Doctor was working on reanimating a cow's heart. "Good day, Dr. Bright!" The Plague Doctor greeted him cheerfully. "You look to be in good health!" Dr. Bright explained the Fight Club concept
to him, and asked if he would like to join. The Plague Doctor shook his head. "I am afraid not, my friend. As a physician, I took an oath to do no harm,
and to participate in such a club would be a violation of my life's mission. However! Should you require a doctor to treat any injuries
incurred during your club activities, I would be delighted to offer you my services." Dr. Bright was a bit disappointed that he
wouldn't get to see the Plague Doctor bring his deadly touch into a combat scenario, but
he understood. He accepted the Doctor's offer, and moved
on to the next potential member on his list. He found SCP-999, the Tickle Monster, resting
in its pen after a hearty meal of chocolate pudding and candied strawberries. It cooed delightedly at the sight of him,
oozing over to nuzzle his leg and give him a big hug. He immediately felt his mood lift, and it
gave him the extra boost he knew he'd need to see this plan through to the end! He did his best to explain the notion of a
Fight Club to the slimy little friend, but he couldn't be sure if the slime creature
actually understood or not. Either way, it was excited about the attention,
and would be following Dr. Bright around for the rest of the day. Worst case scenario, he supposed it could
provide a necessary morale boost to any combatants that needed it. He didn't have great luck recruiting his first
two ideas, so Dr. Bright decided to switch gears a bit. Instead of talking to anomalies with complex
relationships to violence, or even an aversion to it altogether, he would reach out to a
creature that hated absolutely everything in the world except for violence. SCP-682 was in its acid bath, doing what it
did every single day: seething with rage against all living things. "Hey there you big beautiful lizard!" Dr. Bright called as he opened the door to
the monster's cell. Before the creature could say a single word,
he launched into his pitch. "You like fighting, don't you? Well have I got an offer for you..." When he finished, he waited for 682's response. "Dissgussssting..." It hissed. "So I'll put you down as a 'maybe' then?" The creature snapped its jaws at him in response,
and he took that as his cue to leave. It would be enough for anyone else to get
discouraged, but once Dr. Bright had an idea, he stuck to it! At least until something better came along. But until he thought of a more entertaining
plan, he was all in on the SCP Fight Club. Thankfully, his next batch of potential members
were a lot more receptive to the idea. SCP-082 gave Dr. Bright an unsettlingly enormous
smile at the invitation, exclaiming "Perfect! I was once a heavyweight champion fighter,
you know. Yes, I won many trophies over the years, I
was the very best in the sport! Perhaps you've heard of me, John Sullivan
the Boston Strong Boy!" "I thought your name was Fernand?" Dr. Bright asked. "That too!" After ringing SCP-662, the Butler's Hand Bell,
the attached proper English butler immediately manifested, ready to attend to any task. "Yes, sir?" Mr. Deeds stood at attention. "I need you to participate in a very special
club..." Dr. Bright began. It was an offer he quite literally couldn't
refuse. SCP-847, the Mannequin, was extremely receptive
to the idea. At least, Dr. Bright was pretty sure she was. She mostly responded with a series of wordless
shrieks and jerky movements. But she seemed plenty ready for a good brawl! SCP-2273 was a bit reluctant at first, insisting
that "Combat is not a game," and "You can't fathom the things I've seen on the battlefield,
the men I held in my arms as they drew their last breath." But, after a bit of spirited debate, and the
promise that all the fighting would be relatively lighthearted and not at all like his time
at war, Alexei Belitrov finally agreed to join in on the fun. "Are we speaking of a bout of fisticuffs?" A jaunty voice rang out. Dr. Bright turned to look for the source of
the sound, and the voice shouted, "Wait a moment there old boy, you're about to step
on me!" He looked down and found the person the voice
belonged to: a brightly-colored sea slug sliming his way across the floor. "Oh, Lord Blackwood! Do you want to join my fight club?" Dr. Bright asked. "Indeed it would be my pleasure! I was a member of many a private gentleman's
club in my day, and I find nothing keeps the blood pumping and the body in tip top shape
like a round of boxing! I confess I've been neglecting my fitness
of late, and this would be just the shake-up that my routine demands! Thank you for your invitation!" Dr. Bright wasn't exactly sure how SCP-1867
would be able to throw a punch when he didn't have arms, but he wasn't about to question
it. Never look a gift slug in the mouth, as they
say! So far he had a giant cannibal, a supersoldier
from another universe, a living mannequin, and a very dapper sea slug. What next… Before he even had a chance to check his list,
Dr. Bright heard a robotic voice coming from down the hall. "It is I, Punchbot 5000, the ultimate fighting
robot!" Now that was a perfect candidate if there
ever was one. He rounded the corner and found SCP-1370 there,
lying on its back, kicking its legs uselessly as it tried to climb back onto its feet. "I've got the perfect place for you to work
out that fighting spirit, Punchbot." He extended a hand to help the robot up, and
it slapped the hand away. "Don't help me! I can do it myself!" It insisted, and continued to struggle for
several more minutes before it finally managed to climb back to an upright position. So with Pesterbot on board, Dr. Bright could
really see his vision taking shape before his eyes. He followed the humming sound of a giant sun
lamp to the modified humanoid containment chamber that housed the hero no one was looking
for, but the hero Dr. Bright truly needed, and believed he deserved. SCP-2800 sat inside, curled up in the fetal
position beneath the glow of his lamp, soaking up the rays. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Cactusman? The spiked menace?" Dr. Bright knocked on the door. SCP-2800 sprang into action, scrambling to
his feet at the mention of his self-given heroic moniker. "Afternoon, doc!" Cactusman rushed to the door, opening it to
let Dr. Bright in. "Looking for someone to help you crack a case? Take down some criminals? Bust some baddies? I'm the man for the job! The cactus man, that is! Ha ha!" SCP-2800 kept talking, but Dr. Bright didn't
really listen to what he was saying. All he was thinking about was how amazing
it would be to see those spikes in action in a bare-knuckled brawl. Luckily, Cactusman was so starved for something
to do, for any way he could feel useful, that he jumped at the chance to join in on the
fun. Now, Dr. Bright had really enjoyed watching
the small portion of "Fight Club" that he had seen before he got bored, but there was
one thing he didn't like about the club featured in the movie. It was all-male. That didn't seem fair to him. Why shouldn't women get to fight too? He was nothing if not a feminist - Hell, thanks
to his body-swapping necklace, he’d actually been a woman many times. So, he decided to seek out a few more female
anomalies to recruit. He followed the humming sound of a giant sun
lamp to the modified humanoid containment chamber that housed the hero no one was looking
for, but the hero Dr. Bright truly needed, and believed he deserved. SCP-2800 sat inside, curled up in the fetal
position beneath the glow of his lamp, soaking up the rays. "Excuse me, I'm looking for Cactusman? The spiked menace?" Dr. Bright knocked on the door. SCP-2800 sprang into action, scrambling to
his feet at the mention of his self-given heroic moniker. "Afternoon, doc!" Cactusman rushed to the door, opening it to
let Dr. Bright in. "Looking for someone to help you crack a case? Take down some criminals? Bust some baddies? I'm the man for the job! The cactus man, that is! Ha ha!" SCP-2800 kept talking, but Dr. Bright didn't
really listen to what he was saying. All he was thinking about was how amazing
it would be to see those spikes in action in a bare-knuckled brawl. Luckily, Cactusman was so starved for something
to do, for any way he could feel useful, that he jumped at the chance to join in on the
fun. Now, Dr. Bright had really enjoyed watching
the small portion of "Fight Club" that he had seen before he got bored, but there was
one thing he didn't like about the club featured in the movie. It was all-male. That didn't seem fair to him. Why shouldn't women get to fight too? He was nothing if not a feminist - Hell, thanks
to his body-swapping necklace, he’d actually been a woman many times. So, he decided to seek out a few more female
anomalies to recruit. Next, Dr. Bright plugged his nose to avoid
the swampy smell of SCP-811's enclosure, where she lounged in the water, humming a little
song to herself. She was more than happy to come with Dr. Bright,
especially when he offered her a tasty snack in the form of a whole live chicken. She was a very food-motivated gal, and he
could respect that. He knew he would get in trouble for this next
pick in his lineup, but Dr. Bright couldn't resist bringing SCP-029, the Daughter of Shadows,
into the fold. Notable for her extreme hostility and penchant
for strangling people to death, he couldn't wait to watch her in action up against some
of his other members. Dr. Bright was finally ready to put his Fight
Club into action, and he herded his merry band of miscreants toward the break room to
get started. But wait...he was forgetting something. How could he have been so foolish?! They would be perfect! Quickly, he sprinted over to SCP-056's containment
room, and opened the door. He already knew what form it would take on
before he even saw it, but still he was delighted at the vision that awaited him inside. SCP-056 had transformed into the shape of
Brad Pitt as Tyler Durden in the movie Fight Club. A perfect, handsome fighting specimen, ready
for action. "Would you do me the honor of joining my--" "Of course, you pathetic little worm." SCP-056 didn't let Dr. Bright even finish
his question. "This is my time to shine. Out of my way." It swept past him and out the door, walking
toward the break room with the confidence of a champion. Finally, it was time. Dr. Bright dimmed the lights in the break
room, moved all furniture off of the floor, and prepared for the bloodshed to begin. He clapped his hands together delightedly,
taking in the sight of his brand new, completely perfect, Unofficial SCP Foundation Fight Club. "Listen up, everyone!" He began. "The rules: Don't talk about Bright Club. No weapons, just fists- or whatever limbs
you might have, if you don't have hands. If your opponent taps out or goes limp, the
fight is over. And if it's your first night here, which is
the case for literally everyone in the room right now? You have to fight. Okay, who's up first?" Before he could so much as select a pair of
fighters to step into the center of the room, the Polymorphic Humanoid was lunging at SCP-056
with a shriek, fangs bared and claws out. She struck the beautiful figure, still in
the shape of 1990s Brad Pitt, and though the Beautiful Person held their own, they were
unable to stop the fox woman from beating the living hell out of their face. "I've had enough of this!" SCP-056 stumbled to their feet, gave a haughty
huff, and ran from the room. The Polymorphic Humanoid wiped some blood
from her beautiful face, and, feeling the eyes of the room on her, shrugged. "I felt like destroying something beautiful." "Okay..." Dr. Bright laughed nervously. "Who's up next?" The Daughter of Shadows was already strangling
Cactusman, who was fighting back by poking her with his spikes defensively. "Okay, that's not really...in the spirit of
the game...a little help here?" He looked over to God, who snapped his fingers
and teleported the two offending fighters back to their respective containment cells. In spite of his best efforts, this was not
quite going to plan. Who would have thought that putting a bunch
of anomalous creatures in a room together and telling them to fight would be a bad idea? Absolutely no one could have foreseen this. "Tally ho! Who is up for a round in the ring with Lord
Theodore Blackwood?!" The slug slid into the center of the room,
waiting for a worthy opponent. Silence fell over the room. No one seemed interested in facing off against
such a diminutive fighter. "Come on now, get your dukes up old chaps!" The Swamp Woman licked her lips, salivating
a bit at the sight of the slug, but no one made a move to engage him. Dr. Bright had to do something, anything,
to get the energy back in the room. In a stroke of inspiration, he shoved SCP-2430,
the Immortal Hitler Clone, into the center of the room. "Who wants to hit this guy, huh?" Immediately, every anomaly in the room descended
on the man, punching and hitting his mustached face with everything they had. Now this was more like it! "I did say the fights should be one on one
but what the hell, this is great!" Suddenly, the door to the break room flew
off its hinges with a crash as someone kicked it open. "What is this?!" A voice boomed. Dr. Bright turned, and his stomach dropped
at the sight of SCP-076-2, Able, entered the room, wearing a menacing scowl. "Engaging in acts of brutality without me? Fighting? Without me?!" He turned his steely gaze onto the Doctor,
who swallowed a lump of pure terror in his throat. He hadn't seen Able much since, well...He
reflexively covered the amulet around his neck, thinking of the fateful day that his
consciousness was sealed inside and his old body was destroyed. Able brandished his bladed weapon with a bellowing
war cry. "I have come to fight you all!" "Um, actually, it's a no weapons situation
in here..." Dr. Bright started to say, but one look from
Able shut him up. "Never mind, it's fine, do your thing." Able began swinging his blade wildly, slicing
massive gashes into the walls of the room and chopping the microwave clean in half. Watching the chaos unfold before him, God
rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Hm. This doesn't seem great," he remarked. The entire room was a blur of motion, of screams
and growls and grunts of effort as everyone inside descended into a flurry of uncontrollable
violence. Able cackled wildly as he chopped off Pesterbot's
head, holding it up above him in a show of vicious glee. Dr. Bright collapsed to his knees as he watched
it all, powerless to stop a thing. How was he supposed to know that starting
a Fight Club would lead to an all-out whirlwind of unstoppable discord and violence, that
he was creating a monster he could never hope to quell?! It's not like this happened in the movie! This whole project had ended in absolute mayhem! Suddenly the chaos was broken up, as a group
of armored Mobile Task Force operatives rushed into the room, pulling everyone apart and
dragging them back to their respective containment cells. He recognized their uniforms as belonging
to members of the elite Mobile Task Force: The Red Right Hand. They cuffed Dr. Bright - the indignity!- and
brought him before the O5 council for judgment. "You absolute cretin, you tiny-minded little
imbecile..." O5-1 sneered. "I'd ask what you were thinking, but I already
know the answer: you weren't." "What are you going to do to me?" Dr. Bright cowered before the power of the
council. "Something that truly fits the crime." O1 smirked. "Your movie privileges have been officially
revoked, until further notice." Now go check out “SCP Edition - Weirdest
Things on Amazon - Dr Bright's Great Idea!” and “HILARIOUS List of Things Dr. Bright
is Not Allowed to Do!” for more wacky and wonderful incidents from Dr. Bright!
