Chapter 72: Iron Fist Club
The previously noisy and chaotic gym had suddenly gone so quiet you could hear a pin drop.
Everyone had clearly heard Chris's instructions to Hanger. Upon suddenly hearing Boss Chris issue such a brutal order, the crew members became indignantly vocal in their support:
"Who the fuck is this Brian asshole? How dare he embezzle Boss Chris's shit! I'll chop him into mincemeat and feed him to the stray dogs behind the Drunken Clam!"
"Hell yeah! Boss Chris is being way too merciful. That dog should be ground into hamburger meat!"
"Nah, I think it's better to stuff him in a cement barrel and dump him in Narragansett Bay!"
"Better yet—physically castrate the bastard first, then send him to 'entertain' some of our more aggressive clients down at the docks. Let that dog regret his life choices forever!"
Listening to these increasingly disturbing and violent suggestions from his assembled subordinates, Chris—who'd only intended to slightly punish Brian as a warning—felt his left eye twitch involuntarily.
Why does it seem like these guys hate Brian even more than I do? Chris thought with growing concern.
At this moment, Marn—noticing that Chris's expression had shifted to visible discomfort and being well aware of Brian's actual relationship with their boss—quickly stepped forward and intervened.
"Shut the hell up, all of you!" Marn barked with authority. "Whatever Boss says, that's what happens. Period. He doesn't need you idiots here running your mouths with unsolicited suggestions!"
Hearing Marn's sharp rebuke, everyone immediately quieted down. They all turned to look at Hanger expectantly, awaiting his response to the actual assignment.
After all, Boss Chris had specifically chosen Hanger for this task, not Marn.
Upon realizing that Chris was seeking him out for this particular matter—rather than to punish him for his earlier failure—Hanger breathed an enormous sigh of relief. He even marveled internally at his incredibly good fortune.
Not only was he receiving no blame whatsoever from Boss Chris, but he could also fulfill his personal wish for revenge in the process. This was genuinely perfect.
However, unlike his more bloodthirsty fellow crew members, Hanger had no intention of taking initiative or adding creative flourishes to Chris's explicit instructions. He only intended to faithfully follow Boss Chris's orders exactly as stated: break that dog's two legs. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Understood, Boss. Should I handle it immediately?" Hanger asked respectfully.
Chris looked at the composed, professional Hanger, mentally confirming that he absolutely had not chosen the wrong person for this delicate task.
If he'd selected someone more prone to overthinking or trying to impress him, they might have actually dismembered Brian completely to curry favor—which would have been a disaster.
In that scenario, Chris would have been genuinely heartbroken.
After all, an entertaining and interesting dog like Brian was remarkably hard to find and replace.
"Do it this evening, when he gets off work from the factory," Chris specified carefully. "Also, you personally shouldn't show your face during the operation. I don't want him to know I'm behind it. Make it look random—maybe a mugging gone wrong or something."
"Perfectly understood, Boss!" Hanger confirmed with a sharp nod.
He then selected a few trusted brothers and departed the gym immediately. He needed to determine the optimal execution plan to perfectly carry out Boss Chris's orders without complications.
For this delicate operation, Hanger even pulled in Johnny Test—who had a genuinely good head on his shoulders and might eventually become their organization's third-in-command—to help with tactical planning.
After efficiently arranging this relatively minor matter, Chris then shifted his attention to Marn and asked about the overall gang's development and expansion.
There wasn't much surprising news to report. With the dragon's blood beverage serving as their primary recruitment tool, essentially everyone who'd ever regularly visited the school gym had been successfully drawn into their organization.
Even several teachers had quietly joined their group—purely to secure free and continuous access to the performance-enhancing dragon's blood beverage.
Learning about the gang's impressive organic growth, Chris nodded with genuine approval. "Good work. But this current scope isn't nearly enough yet. Next phase, you need to establish branch chapters at other high schools throughout Rhode Island. I want to become the undisputed boss of every single student in this state before I officially take office as Student Council President next semester!"
Hearing Chris issue this ambitious expansion order, Marn responded with barely contained excitement, "Absolutely, Boss! I'll sit down with Hanger immediately to hammer out a comprehensive development plan and timeline."
With a resource as powerful as the dragon's blood beverage, Marn had long believed they should aggressively expand their territory and influence. But Hanger had consistently argued that without explicit instructions from Chris, they should maintain their current status quo and consolidate power.
Now, having finally received Chris's clear authorization for expansion, Marn—who'd been itching to do exactly this for weeks—immediately made an enthusiastic commitment.
However, he then became visibly troubled by a practical concern. "Boss, I need to ask—what's our gang's official name? And what are our core principles or stated mission? We'll need those established before we can effectively recruit at other schools."
Hearing Marn's entirely reasonable question, Chris was momentarily taken aback. He genuinely hadn't seriously thought about these foundational organizational issues.
Originally, he'd just wanted to casually form a small student group to help him campaign for Student Council President and build a power base.
But he hadn't anticipated that with the catalytic effect of the dragon's blood beverage, this informal small group would develop so explosively and demonstrate such tremendous potential for growth.
Now Chris genuinely needed to plan the organization's subsequent development more carefully and strategically. He could no longer allow it to grow so wildly without proper structure and direction.
After several moments of thoughtful contemplation, Chris decided, "The official name will be the Iron Fist Club. Our primary stated mission and recruiting pitch will be 'physical fitness and self-improvement through strength training.' Let's promote that angle publicly for now. We can add additional principles and objectives later as needed."
With a clear organizational mission established, Marn immediately felt substantially more confident about the expansion campaign.
After all, when they'd been developing and recruiting within Adam West High School, they'd always informally called themselves "the Chris Griffin Fan Club" or just "Chris's crew"—which worked fine internally but sounded incredibly stupid and unprofessional.
But now that they were expanding externally to other schools and communities, they definitely needed a powerful, memorable name and some distinctive characteristics that set their gang apart from random student cliques.
The name "Iron Fist Club" actually sounded quite appropriate and intimidating—perfect for their purposes.
"Alright, Boss. So should our official emblem be a clenched iron fist icon?" Marn asked, already mentally sketching design concepts.
Responding to Marn's follow-up question, Chris waved his hand impatiently. "You handle those minor aesthetic details yourself. I only have one strict requirement: whatever you design, it absolutely must look cool. If it looks lame or generic, I'll reject it."
"YES, SIR!" Marn straightened up sharply, delivered an exaggerated military salute, then immediately scurried off to begin coordinating logistics and design work.
Chris figured there were no other urgent organizational matters requiring his immediate attention, so he casually strolled around the gym, openly admiring the impressively fit athletic girls working out.
With a genuinely groundbreaking product like the dragon's blood beverage available, anyone who'd tried it quickly lost all interest in using other commercial fitness supplements or workout aids.
As a result, the athletic girls in the gym all maintained shapely, aesthetically pleasing figures without developing into excessively muscular, masculine forms that many female athletes worried about.
Even several hardcore muscular guys who'd previously used anabolic steroids and other performance-enhancing drugs had now completely stopped those substances. They exclusively drank dragon's blood beverage for their workout supplementation.
This beverage truly lived up to its mythological marketing—like the actual dragon's blood from ancient legends, with the transformative effect of turning ordinary people into legendary heroes and warriors.
So these crew members' intense fanaticism and loyalty toward Chris was entirely understandable and predictable. He'd given them genuine superhuman strength while simultaneously preserving their long-term physical health—something steroids and other drugs could never accomplish.
However, while these people genuinely respected and idolized Chris, Chris himself was strategically thinking about how to recover his substantial investment in cultivating these subordinates.
It wasn't that he couldn't afford the resources required to develop these people into a proper organization. But any completely unconditional giving always seemed particularly cheap and unappreciated—people didn't value what they received for free.
Looking at the defined mermaid lines and sculpted abs of an attractive brunette working out in front of him, a flash of inspiration suddenly struck Chris's mind. He had an idea.
He politely declined a fairly explicit special invitation conveyed through meaningful eye contact from the fit girl, then Chris tracked down Marn again. He wanted to raise the entry threshold for official membership significantly.
After informing Marn of his preliminary thoughts, Chris prepared to hear his lieutenant's professional feedback and suggestions.
"Speak freely and honestly," Chris encouraged. "This is just my initial concept. It can absolutely be modified if you identify problems or better alternatives."
With Chris's explicit permission to critique, Marn responded directly and professionally, "Boss, your idea about implementing membership fees is actually excellent strategy. We definitely should increase the entry threshold substantially—that'll help filter out casual wannabes and ensure we're only recruiting people who genuinely want to join our organization and contribute.
The question is—how much should we charge? And our school has a free gym available to students, but other schools throughout Rhode Island might not offer that amenity. Without consistent gym access, the dragon's blood beverage's full physical potential can't be properly utilized through training. If recruits can't actually develop strong, impressive physiques, should they still be considered legitimate members of the Iron Fist Club?"
Chris had proposed two specific membership thresholds: first, collect monthly membership dues from all members. Second, require all recruits to develop a measurably strong, athletic physique within three months of joining.
Only after meeting both requirements would someone be considered an official, fully recognized member of the Iron Fist Club rather than just a probationary recruit.
Hearing Marn's entirely valid logistical concern, Chris naturally already had a practical solution prepared.
"The membership fee will be ten dollars per month—affordable enough that most students can manage it, but substantial enough that people will value their membership," Chris explained. "As for the training location problem, I've already made arrangements to open my own private gym facility through my business ventures.
Once it officially opens for business—probably within the next month—all members of the Iron Fist Club will be able to train there for a heavily discounted monthly rate of just one dollar. That's essentially free compared to normal gym memberships, but the nominal fee ensures people will actually show up and use it."
Hearing that Chris had already strategically planned for these logistical challenges, Marn's concerns evaporated completely. Instead, he enthusiastically returned his full attention to planning the gang's aggressive multi-school expansion campaign.
The Iron Fist Club was about to go statewide.
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