benjaminvox

[benjaminvox]

Étienne Canét (FR) vs. Benjamin Vox (EN)

Fight Club 2025 | @theundergroundlondon @etienne-canet

(Étienne)

This wasn’t the fight he signed up for. Fighting a child? That wasn’t in his books. Fighting a child with not enough experience and simply one with aggression issues? Now that was just a strike on his ego. 

As Étienne stepped into the ring, a disappointed sigh left him. He remembered what he’d done to the kids parents, and no, he did not have remorse for it. But there was an off chance the child knew and was going to try to use some kind of tricks against him.

Once again, a child trying to vent his anger.

He could easily fight the kid. There wasn’t a scenario where Étienne couldn’t. He was better trained, had way more experience and besides he had strategy which the opponent lacked. 

This wasn’t a worthy fight - this was a fucking mockery. 

–

(Benjamin)

Some part of Benjamin wished he could revert to being a child. 

When he’d been oblivious to what the world around him looked like: when his parents still walked the earth, and he’d been naive, outright clueless about the true horrors. His dining room had been where they found true happiness because it hadn’t always been present. Benjamin, after all, had been the forgotten child. 

Chucked to the wayside. So why did he miss them so? 

Because, regardless, they were his blood. His kin. 

After he’d found them at that same table, heads dipped forward: dead. That day, a part of the boy inside of him died. Unending grief had swallowed him and his brothers whole until there was no way out. 

The crowd behind him dulled to nothing, there were no cheers or roars – he didn’t even look for his people. He simply kept his eyes down, away from anything that could set him off. Knowing that Étienne was near was enough to put a shake in his leg, and a quiver in his lip.

Benjamin was not ready for this – didn’t want to be. 

He simply attempted to momentarily forget. To be anywhere else. 

This was where he’d meet him. He couldn’t run away like last time. There was no Melissa to protect him, to take the brunt just as her jaw had. 

Alive with fear, he simply stood and stared. And prayed that his parents were beside him.

–

(Étienne)

Étienne stepped into the ring; slow, deliberate. Shoulders relaxed, hands clasped neatly behind his back, like he’d wandered into the wrong kind of party and wasn’t particularly interested in staying. The Frenchman tilted his head, gaze sweeping over the twitchy little twenty-something Jack Russell who was clearly trying (and failing) to pretend he was ready for this.

Pathetic, wasn’t it?

The sight alone was just another reminder (not that he ever needed one) that this entire spectacle was an absurdity. A poorly written facade crafted purely for Lara Rutherford’s amusement.

He looked the boy up and down once more. Blinked. And then actually snorted - short, dry, disdainful. Like someone had just told him a joke that insulted his intelligence.

“You want me to fight a child?” His voice rang out, crisp and cutting - just loud enough for the front row to hear. “No, thank you. I have standards.”

And with that, he turned his back on the ring.

The boos were instant - predictable. However, Étienne didn’t even blink. He cracked his neck, shrugged his shoulders with an almost lazy confidence, and turned on his heel like he was leaving a meeting, not a fight. 

“Let the boy fight himself,” he added over his shoulder. “I'm not about to waste my time on a pathetic little show just to stroke their fragile ego.”

–

(Benjamin)

Crashing waves, the roar of a crowd and his own heartbeat filtered into his ears: a roaring, never-ending, unofficial bellow from the depths of his soul. He wanted to scream, to let out the build up in his sternum.

Étienne Canét. He couldn't get over his proximity.

The last face they ever saw.

One second, he can see the crowd – and the next he was staring at the man who’d murdered his parents for their indiscretions: looking at him like the big bad that he was. And still, Benjamin could feel the fear running rampant through him.

There’d been a part of him, a very big part, that had sought revenge in his daydreams. Imagined this moment more than he could physically count – and yet, the minute was provided with it…he cowered internally. 

He might’ve looked older, but a part of that young boy had never been able to let go of it.

That face haunted him: a living, waking, walking nightmare.

Still, his fists, as if by muscle memory, balled at his sides.

And then his world tilted on it's side.

You want me to fight a child?

Benjamin couldn't control the contortion of his features, or the way he had to handle his lips from tilting into a snarl. A child. Was that what they'd always see him as? In reality, it was the best option for him...seeing Étienne turned around.

It took him seconds to deflate, before he found a feeling he knew from spending too much time around his boss...relief? He walked away, unwilling to fight. But did it hurt his ego? Yes. Did he want to run and hide as far away from the man as possible?

Yes.

But he knew the repercussions.

The boos followed, but Benjamin didn't look for Melissa. He looked straight to Lara, and prayed this wouldn't be reason for retribution for the loss of a fight...

"Fuck."

It only occurred to him as Étienne blended into the crowd that he'd had his chance-- and wasted it. But a voice came to mind, Gideon-- and he wondered if it was for the best. Or it was going to fuel that anger. "Offer goes out to anyone who wants to get in the ring with me."

It fell from his mouth before he could stop himself. Hands shaking.

This was far from over.

[benjaminvox]

Head rotating left, then right: trying to ease out the tensions that were building in the muscles based at the nape of his neck. God, when would this end? With a huff through flared nostrils, his gaze trailed over to the wealth of dark hair that belonged to Cat. Don't psych yourself out, she says, and its enough to bring a smirk to the corner of lips that hadn't upturned in a while. "Si." he replied, though his spanish was far from comprehensible.

His relationship with Catalina, like most of those associated within the org were hit and miss -- only because of his ties to Melissa. Though, she'd never voiced a bad work about Cat: and if that didn't intrigue him -- he was an idiot.

The adrenaline, though, had him halting. His parents. Étienne. It all felt like some weird fever dream he hadn't been able to let go. Waking or sleeping. "I could use some of that dutch courage, or whatever it is you've got to surprise me..."

Catalina stopped as she passed by Ben. She didn't know him super well, but she was willing to change that.

"Don't psych yourself out. Go in that ring, and give it all you've fucking got, si?" She said, raising and eyebrow. She knew this was his opportunity to try and right a wrong, though nothing would bring his parents back. "You'd be surprised what happens once your adrenaline takes over..." She said before leaning in. "And if you need an extra bit of courage...I can help with that too."

[benjaminvox]

Benjamin wished he could turn off his emotions as easily as his boss did.

But tonight, he didn't have that luck. Instead, fear ran rampant.

The kind that might be his own demise.

Turning, he saw the woman he knew as Lisette St. Clair, not too far from him — he'd never had the chance to meet them, and he never hoped to. The demise of his parents would always be at their hands, and while he understood. They'd lied, stolen and cheated the French, their sentence had been dealt. But he still felt that pain deep within him, the loss of the two people who were still supposed to be here now.

Étienne.

He simply shook his head and walked to find Melissa.

He looked younger up close. Lisette had only seen the man in passing at events. He was always attached to Melissa Lin's hip, almost as a child would their mother. Tonight, he would be standing alone.

Against Étienne.

Did he think he stood a chance? The look of dismay and words of frustration solidified Lisette's preconceived notion that he knew the trouble he was in for. All of this, in conjunction, just made her smirk before she sipped her glass.

[benjaminvox]

FOR: @mobscene-starters EVENT: Fight Club 2025. WHERE: The Underground. Pre-fights.

"Of all the fuckin' people she could've given me..." had he dreamed of this moment? Absolutely. Was he ready? Fuck no. Étienne had years of fighting experience on him, not just that — the man had been trained beyond what Benjamin had ever received. Yes, Melissa had him trained. He could protect.

But nothing of this magnitude.

He stared at that list and blinked. A flash of his parents, dead. And Étienne had been the one to deliver that grim end. "I should've known..."

[benjaminvox]

He hadn't intended to end up standing next to her.

Especially not after the shower situation back at the last gathering on the Rutherford Estate. No matter how stoic he tried to be, the rose of his cheeks soon dusted at the memory. Or sheer embarrassment, he hadn't quite decided yet. And either way, he'd never confirm or deny.

He simply had...no recollection. The lies, he told himself.

But his mind wasn't on that: it was on the list.

So when the bartender walked over, he ordered and nodded.

"Yep." the drink needed to be stiff. "What's a little murder for entertainment?"

@mobscene-starters Event: Fight Club 2025 -Pre Fights

Nadezhda wasn't entirely sure how she felt about the whole ordeal, but there was one thing she was confident about, and that was her skills. The Russian had arrived with her people, moving to the bar to grab herself a drink before returning to them, when she felt a body come up next to hers, twisting her head in their direction.

"Should be an interesting night, da?"

[benjaminvox]

"I wouldn't bet on me, if that's anything to go by." He wasn't sure if Felix had known he'd been walking by when he'd made the comment, but the gaze he set upon him was akin to the fire he hoped to match in the ring. Étienne had murdered both his parents. Made him an orphan and Lara had used that for sport.

There were many things Benjamin could deal with. But this? Was not it. He was not made of steel, and he wasn't cold like Melissa. "Maybe he's clearing out the Vox name. He's already halfway there."

@mobscene-starters Event: Fight Club 2025 -Pre Fights

Félix glanced around the room, his fingers tight around his drink.For all he tried to keep some distance between the true nature of the Rutherford family business and himself, even he wasn't above placing a bet or two on sport. Maybe not sport this bloody, but when in Rome.

"What's the over/under that Vox walks out of that ring with his spleen intact?" Judging from the look of his opponent, not good.

[benjaminvox]

BENJAMIN VOX | FIGHT CLUB 2025

Accompanied by Melissa Lin. ( @msmelissalin )

[benjaminvox]

He didn't even get to say another word.

A car door creaked open a street away: the Lexus.

Melissa wasn’t waiting any longer.

Benjamin exhaled sharply through his nose, fuck this, and fuck that, and fuck everyone. She didn't trust him enough to give him five minutes with Ayda, did she? To assess if there was trouble...putting herself at risk yet again.

Ben and Melissa had spoken in length, recently, may he add, about her constantly putting herself in harm's way. And she'd said she'd try to be better...fuck.

All he did was tilt his head slightly in that direction, a cue for Ayda to follow. He didn’t like standing around talking, not here, not now. Of all places, out in the open. It was bad enough just being seen, but standing still?

It made him feel like a walking-fucking-bullseye.

Melissa had been wound tight for weeks now, growing every second she stagnated. Whatever was in that envelope had better be good. He lowered his voice so only Ayda could hear. "What is it, quickly, before she hears?"

Could he spin this for her if Melissa took it badly?

Ayda still wasn't sure how she felt about working alongside Melissa Lin when it came to her political career. It was something she was keeping to herself and making sure she didn't get in too deep that she couldn't pull herself out. The woman had grown up around these games, and she would like to think, that over time, she understood how to play them.

Her meeting went longer than she intended, knowing that she was meeting Melissa to talk business, quickly excusing herself once more, making her way over to arranged spot.

It didn't surprise her when she found Ben standing there. "I know." A faint smile dances on her lips. "My meeting went longer than intended." She held up manila envelope. "I think she'll like what I have here."

[benjaminvox]

"Yeah, well," emotionless in his laugh, he could've almost resmbled his mentor for a moment. "you try babysitting a ticking time bomb and see how relaxed you feel."

Nevra wasn’t wrong.

Benjamin had been on edge for some time. Things were never truly settled in London, and Melissa was always on the verge of doing something disastrous. He bore the brunt of those emotions.

All it took was a swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing in recognition of her statement, before he nodded. The state had only worsened over the past three months, and the tensions hadn't eased any. It was the constant battle of which fights he should pick, and those he should leave be.

This time, he'd opted to do as he was told. Do his job.

"You aren't the one that has to deal with her every day when shit goes awry. And recently...." It'd been endless. Ben rubbed at his jaw, the scrape of stubble, trying to calm that aggitation that'd been building up over the day.

Nevra's question of if things were bad, had him crack a smile, albeit a hollow one. "usual bullshit," though, he was sure she'd get the jist. "...Italian's still haven't got their pound of flesh, Russian's...are being fuckin' Russian, and the Kerem took his people to them..." It was never ending. "Am I wasting my time standing out here, or is there something worth the trouble?" he said it was no malice, or ill intent. Instead, it was in hope. That whatever she had might relieve some of the tension that was waiting in that car over there.

One look at him up and down was enough to confirm her thoughts and she wasn't about to hold them back. Why waste a jab when you have one? "Looks like she's not the only one." She was even with him now, having approached from behind. "Between you and me, isn't she always in that state? Why worry about something you can't change." Less of a question, more of statement. Something Nevra found herself doing more and more these days.

She wasn't exactly sure what Melissa needed or wanted but she had called and Nevra had answered. Although it didn't seem so pressing now seeing that she'd sent her right hand man instead of coming herself. That either meant it was nothing of consequence or something that needed a preamble. Personally she was hoping for the former as she'd just come off a month-long assignment out of country. It had been tedious but wasn't that always the way with murder?

"You're looking good by the way. You know, minus the whole stiff as a board look you have going on at the moment. Are things really that bad?"

Please say no.

[benjaminvox]

FINN COLE for BRITISH GQ, ph josh upton

source

[benjaminvox]

FOR: OPEN TO ALL. WHEN: March, 2025. WHERE: Some side street in Belgravia.

Uncomfortable wasn't the word.

Even the soles of his expensive shoes felt like barefeet upon cement on a hot day. It was that itch to be anywhere else: and yet, there he stood. Out in the fucking open, likely with a target on his back. It's the way his gaze tracks every shadow, every potential threat that might be lurking around some unsuspecting corner. His fists clench, unclench and then repeat: the telling sign matched alongside the scowl etched deep into his forehead. Benjamin wanted to be anywhere else.

Play it cool, bro -- the mantra he'd repeated since his arrival.

One street away was Melissa's car. Waiting.

The gravel behind him crunched, footsteps approaching and his back instantly stiffened. As he slow turned around to face the person arriving. Benjamin was to be Melissa's messanger once again. To see if the coast was clear before she stepped foot outside the comfort of her private hired Lexus. Jarrad, her new driver staying close by.

Setting his jaw, he raised his gaze to meet the new arrival.

Bout' time, was what he wanted to say. Instead, he kept that to himself. "you know s"She doesn't like to be kept waiting -- she's on edge now." he was trying to stay casual, but even his tone remained strained.

[benjaminvox]

FINN COLE Peaky Blinders 5.01 "Black Tuesday"

[benjaminvox]

It was a rarity Benjamin found himsel at home these days. With each passing day, he could feel the rising tensions within the Rutherford Organization. And what most would've swept under the rug and chalked up to anticipation on an a public answer regarding the russians...this was not one of those things. He might've been Melissa's eyes and ears, her confidant, but he held strong friendships throughout the organization...and the rumblings seemed to keep turning, amassing. Benjamin wasn't sure when or what exactly was coming.

But he sure as fuck could feel it.

And his boss also seemed to be aware: he could see it in the constant furrow of her brow, or the deep line that had tattooed itself to her lips. Being given the night off had shocked him, head rising from the desk as he watched her: was she drunk, had been his first thought. But he could see it in the way she sagged over her desk...she also needed it.

Without a word, he'd slipped out. His friends had urged him to go out, but instead, he'd put his feet up as old re-runs of Only Fools and Horses, his lips moving along with the show, even if no sound was omitted. It was the knock at the door that snapped him out of his relaxive bubble.

If that was George or Barnaby, he was gonna' kick their arses for disturbing him.

However, as he yanked the door back, his eyes -- for the second time that evening, conveyed shock. "Ayda," he uttered, head cocking to the side as he regarded her face first. She wasn't hurt, okay... "Yeah, course'." already moving out of the way.

"Is everything alright?"

where: his flat who: @benjaminvox

What happened prior to the event and at the event, should have stayed there, leave it to poor choices and move on. Yet, Ayda found herself standing in front of his flat door, staring at the wood, wondering if turning around to leave would be the best option. Nothing good would ever come of this.

Her mind screamed on thing and her hand raised, fingers closing, where she rapped on the door, announcing her presence, though, he knew she was there, letting her into the building.

Her body twisted, examining the painting on the wall, taking in the beauty, only to quickly return to her position when the door opened. An innocent smile seeps on her lips.

"Hi." What was there for them to talk about, they clearly had nothing in common. "Can I come in?"

[benjaminvox]

"Loss is loss," Benjamin shrugs his shoulder, huffing a distant sound. Nowhere near a laugh, but more of an acknowledgment. "You shouldn't have had to go through that, anymore than I shouldn't have had to go through the things I did. Fuck, man. We were kids." watching as the beer arrived, and tilting his head in thanks.

The difference between the two men though? Benjamin's anger. That darkness that had been bred, and then honed. Living with vengeance was the only way he'd found any modicum of peace.

'You think it might right a wrong, give you closure — it won't'

Benjamin doesn't agree, and it says so as he shifts in his seat, causing the upturn of the corner of his lips. "Did you seek revenge? For your parents?" a pause. "Or are you guessing that it won't make me feel better?" There was a reason he'd been likened to Johnathan...that unwielded rage that most hadn't yet seen. The need to serve. The need to hurt. It lay under that young boy smile, the yet to age face.

And he needed somewhere to direct it. Finely educated, the only credentials he had was working for Melissa Lin. A title, and a fine reputation in itself...he'd bore quickly. He needed this.

'Whose fault is it then, Benjamin? Hers or yours?'

Benjamin doesn't answer immediately.

He sits on it. Traces condensation dripping down the glass in hand, cold seeping into his fingertips. His first instinct is to deflect, throw some biting comment back at Gideon that might force the conversation in some other direction, but the weight of it all, that fucking question settles heavily on top of him. His life, Melissa, his parents, Étienne...his brothers.

Benjamin felt like the world was weighing down on him, and he was it's sole bearer. It's not the first time he's wondered about it, too many times has it found it's way into his thoughts, his dreams...but having someone like Gideon ask it so bluntly strips away any excuse he might've leaned on.

Any chance he could escape those nightmares.

He's fucking lost. Staring. Like the young boy he was still, rummaging to the surface.

Benjamin hadn't quite lost that to his years yet.

"Both," he finally says, eyes vacant, blue a vast nothingness. He doesn’t look at Gideon, can't bare it, honestly: instead, his eyes finds the drink in his hand. "It'd be hers for pulling the trigger. Mine for giving her the reason to, I guess."

Loyalty was a dog: and he was her hound. Benjamin knows it’s not the answer Gideon wants, not the clean division of responsibility he'd probably hoped to hear. And he wouldn't lie to him, his mind had been moulded to Melissa Lin's tactics some eleven years ago...there was no changing his heel. But it’s the truth as Benjamin sees it. Melissa isn’t without her flaws, but she’s always been clear about the stakes. He accepted them the day he stepped into her world.

Into the Rutherford name. And while she commanded it, he obeyed.

He leans back, letting the chair creak under his weight. "Look, I’m not saying she’s perfect. Far from it, fuckin' hell...I'm meant to be smart, right. But... I owe her. A fuckin' lot. Not just for keeping me alive, but for making me into something. Someone. And yeah, that comes with risks. But doesn’t everything?"

Jabbing a finger over his shoulder, he shakes his head -- aware that there were parts of Melissa that Gideon refused to see. To acknowledge. "My parent's killer is here...drinking, laughing...and Melissa's checked in on me every two hours." The side eye, shoulders shrugging. She was his family. Benjamin knows he's justifying, fuckin' rationalizing. Gideon can probably see through it, but it’s the only way he’s ever been able to make peace. "I know you think I’m just another pawn in her game. And maybe I am. But...I chose this life. I know exactly what I signed up for."

Raising his glass, he huffs. "So if she shoots me one day? At least I’ll go down knowing I didn’t sit back and let the world tear me a-fuckin-part." He leans forward, his elbows on the table. "What about you? You’ve seen the same shit I have. What made you realise you'd never want...this" he knew Melissa well, knew a lot of what went on in the Rutherford's -- it was his job to know.

[benjaminvox]

That very first time, felt like it was yesterday, when Melissa had invited Benjamin into her office, he'd been just a wide eyed boy-- his knowledge learned only from his brothers...he was quick to learn the true meaning of respect. And it'd stuck with him every day since — the way she spoke, the way she expected him to know when not to...and he'd quickly learned, unless invited to speak...even if he failed at times. It'd been a complicated amalgamation of making mistakes, and stepping on toes until he'd mastered it to a level that was what was expected from the ice queen.

But that respet for her was never wavering, it didn't falter.

And due to the fact that Melissa held a strong friendship, and Jordana's ranking: that sentiment was extended to her, in turn. Walking through the door to her office, he offered a murmur of thanks to her assistant. While he didn't doubt Jordana treated her employees well: it was a thankless job.

"Mrs. Velasquez," he responds, taking the seat opposite her, the tell tale sign of a hardened jaw found it's way to his features. Melissa, per usual, hadn't told him why he was here. Though, it loosened when Jordana spoke of debriefing. "Yes, that would be good. My boss doesn't like to tell me the details of my endeavours."

where: her office who: @benjaminvox when: 16th of december, 2024

It was an odd message to receive a message requesting that she deal with a matter for Melissa Lin, and more so, with the assistance of Benjamin Vox. She knew of the male, not usually in a position where they conversed, but giving what was being asked, she would not refuse help, not when it came to her boss.

"Come in," a knock placed at her door, her assistant opening it.

"There is a Mr. Vox here for you."

"Send him in." Jordana closed what she was working on, pushing down the laptop screen when her guest walked in. "Benjamin, have a seat." A hand gestures to the seat across from her. "I thought we could debrief a little before we head out." She was not one that left anywhere without a plan. Her promise to come home every night to Mateo.

[benjaminvox]

Texting - Ayaz.

Benjamin: Incoming. Benjamin: She cooked you a fucking feast and gave me the scraps like the good lil 'doggie' I am. Benjamin: Enjoy. It tastes fantastic. Benjamin: These heads up are becoming a common thing... :)

[benjaminvox]

"So you saw me naked and now you're...." turning, his head tilted "what? Coming to get a second look..." Benjamin was confident, enough so, that he didn't shy away this time. Instead, he gestured to the seat, even though she'd already taken too it. With the current balance of the Rutherford's and Russian's, he knew enough to be wary...but with Melissa trying to maintain business relations...he'd play along. "No one better to spend your time with?"

where: the bar when: a few hours after their encounter who: @benjaminvox

Nadezhda spotted him sat at one of the couches at the bar for those on the rich side. She had promised him a drink, and one to keep her word, she fetched them both a drink.

"Thought you could use some company." She sat down beside him, placing a drink in his hand.