Canaan Club - 14. Chapter 14

If Rafe had the ability to use his eye lasers at will, he’d totally smite that scraggly, maroon wild-haired boy in front of him and vertically slice him in half. Chestnut eyes glared heatedly back at him as they circled each other. Rafe, despite his body feeling heavier than usual and his mind sort of muddled, was brimming with the need to punch something, and the uppity, second-rate barbarian was the perfect target.

The partygoers gathered around them as the two first-years stared each other down like lions preparing to maul down their prey, howling and hollering for bloodshed like an audience in a colosseum.

“You wanna throw down, stick fig?” Rafe’s voice slurred as he sneered. “I’ll shove that bat of yours up your ass! Make you as tall as your boys over there.”

Whatever was in that blue drink did quite the number on him. Superhumans couldn’t get drunk by normal means, so whatever he had drunk might be lethal to regular johns. But right now, he felt like he could do anything, such as pound this asshole’s face into the ground while his metal-wielding friends watched.

“Don’t wanna be. At least, I can still see me big willy from here,” his opponent spat in his Irish accent, lewdly grabbing his crotch through his fur tunic. “When was the last time ye even saw yours, mate? With those long legs o’ yours?”

The blond superhuman snarled. “At least, I’m not close enough to suck it! Kinda like what you’ll be doing when you’re trying to rip out that giant dildo you’re holding, Frog!”

“It’s Froddgenskaenn to ye, fecking gobshite!” the young barbarian shook an empty fist at him. “An’ you’re one to talk when ye’ve been sobbin’ a story about your da fecking you in the ass or whatever!”

To be honest, Rafe couldn’t remember what he had discussed with the barbarians. Or how he even got a seat with them. That drink really did hit him hard.

“Fucking me over, dipshit!” he bellowed over the oohing of the crowd. “What about you!? Always complaining about being the weak, little turd in your clan or some shit!? Talk about pathetic!”

Louder gasps rang out at that jibe, and even the boy’s own group had a chuckle at that, making Frodd’s face flush darkly before his thick, dark red brows lowered, his large, pointed nose flaring in fury.

“Why don’t ye come over here an’ say that, bastard!?”

“Alright, I will!”

Rafe took several stomps toward the first-year barbarian, prompting the latter to raise his weapon-wielding hand and pose threateningly, shaking the club at his opponent. The sight just made Rafe laugh, grinning mockingly at Frodd.

“Aw, what? You gonna slug me with your wooden dildo?”

“Trust me. It’s going to hurt a wee bit more than a pleaser pole in the bullocks, mate.”

Frodd then got into a batter’s stance, prepping to swing his club at the superhuman. Said blond just stood up straight, arms crossed and mouth tilted up into a self-assured smirk. As if a measly piece of wood was going to do any damage to him.

“I should warn ye. This club isn’t just some slab of timber,” the barbarian tightened his grip. “This is forged from the armor of deities during their time in our realm. A savage weapon that’ll wreck your shit, mate!”

Rafe scoffed. “They were armor made of wood? No wonder they didn’t last long then. You’re not worshipping gods. You’re worshipping ghosts.”

“You won’t be slagging me when I make ye eat those words, bleedin’ super-ape!” And without warning, the barbarian rushed for the superhuman before swinging the club at his head like an ax.

And then froze.

Fortunately for the scrawny first-year’s dignity, it wasn’t due to nerves. His brown eyes still widened in disbelief when he noticed Rafe’s left hand barely clenching the surface of his weapon, his grin almost disappointed.

“Damn! How obvious can you be?” the superhuman snickered. “You honestly thought I’d sit there and let you hit me?”

Frodd tried to retract the club, but Rafe’s grip was tighter than it appeared. “I’ve had it about up t’ here with your yammerin’! Let it go so I can give yer ass a real, proper wippin’, yeah?”

“Okay, okay. Chill out,” Rafe smiled right before he shoved his hand forward, causing the barbarian to fly back about over ten feet away, nearly bulldozing into the audience.

Frodd nearly tripped but eventually regained his footing. He repositioned his club over his left shoulder and squatted.

“Round two, clown!” And charged forth again.

His confidence surging, Rafe closed his eyes and took a step to the side, completely dodging the horizontal swing of the wooden weapon. Though, the young barbarian wasn’t done, immediately leaping back from his toes to spin and catch the superhuman from behind. The blond ducked under that attack as well, and all the other subsequent veers.

As Frodd missed another swing, Rafe lowered himself under it once more before grabbing him by the shoulders and tossing him down to the ground. The brunette first-year coughed as he bounced, making the crowd hiss in sympathy. His wits came back to him a split-second later, and he took advantage by attempting to sweep his enemy, but despite how intoxicated Rafe was, his reaction timing remained on point. The blond first-year simply jumped, gaining some distance as the barbarian shot to his feet with a snarl.

“You’re a nimble, little gowl, aren’t ye!?” Frodd gritted his teeth and widened his stance.

He darted for Rafe once again, swinging and swiping in hopes of getting at least one hit in. Meanwhile, the superhuman danced to the screaming of the mob, sliding under tables and springing off chairs in order to evade his opponent’s weapon, which he swore was getting faster based on the whistling it did every time it cut through the air. When Frodd decided to go for a kick, and of course missed, Rafe finally dove in to fight back, delivering a weak fist that the barbarian simply blocked with a knee.

“Yer still playin’ with me, mate!” Frodd drew back. “Get serious!”

This swing was a hell of a lot faster than the previous ones, and Rafe’s breath nearly caught in his throat as he leaned back to avoid a strike. Frodd grinned then, crouching low and trying out his luck with a swift, second leg sweep, knocking the superhuman off his feet.

Rafe gasped in surprise as he fell back and watched on as the skinny first-year let his club fly down.

“Shit!” he cursed himself for getting too careless, but then an idea hit him like lightning.

Only having half a second to enact it, he hurriedly bent his arms back to catch his fall, then lifted his legs to seize the wooden stick, wincing at the unexpected heat stinging his bare skin. With a single heave, he flipped over, tossing Frodd and his club over the ring of partygoers. While Rafe landed on his feet, the young barbarian struggled to roll over in the air right before he landed on a table on his back, completely obliterating it into pieces and sending food, drink, and silverware everywhere. Although, this only made the crowd go crazier.

“Damn! You almost got me there, Frog!” Rafe brushed his short hair back, smirking in his challenger’s direction. “You sure you can call yourself a barbarian? I mean, your name’s Frodd. Get it? Like ‘fraud?’ You’re a poser, dude!”

“Shut up!” Frodd bellowed, dismissing the pain as he got to his feet and bolted for the superhuman in rage.

The blond first-year shook his head, sitting still and waiting for the other boy to get close. He nonchalantly looked on as the wild-haired male vaulted into the air and went for another double-handed drop. Rafe reached out to catch it again, but this round, it stopped short inches from his hand.

He blinked, “Wha-” before he choked on a wheeze when a fist was promptly buried in his stomach.

“How’s that taste, bitch!?” Frodd cackled in celebration of his first hit.

While Rafe was winded, the brunette boy’s club restarted its journey toward his opponent’s head. Unfortunately for Frodd, this move would be cut short once more as the superhuman had enough sense to guard it with his arms, though, it did make him grimace just a bit.

Christ, this guy punched hard for a twig! Rafe thought in shock. Admittedly, he was caught off guard by the boy’s strength. As far as he knew, barbarians were just weapon-wielding neanderthals with regular human power. Apparently, that was not the case, and a small part of Rafe was happy to realize that. Maybe this will be a challenge, after all.

But before he could think any further on it, he felt a well-placed kick at his gut, reigniting the ache there and the force sending it back midair. His back crashed against the wall of the basement. Frodd didn’t give him an ounce of reprieve as ran forward to swing wildly. The superhuman did his best to block each attack, however, one was able to sneak past his defenses, and a hard one was planted on his left temple.

Rafe’s vision momentarily blurred as his head rattled. For a minute, he thought he heard a church bell go off. This was no ordinary wood. Perhaps the young barbarian was right. When he refocused, the club was quickly approaching him again, forcing him into defense mode as his enemy manically battered him.

“Let’s finish this!” Frodd yelled and did the highest jump he could, nearly touching the basement ceiling.

Oh, fuck! Rafe panicked. He couldn’t block this one lest his arms and face be rearranged. He needed to do something and fast!

Summoning all the might his tipsy body would allow, he stretched his hands out and waited until the club was milliseconds from caving his nose in and back out the other end. The impact was like a miniature bomb going off, a shockwave blasting around the room and creating a web of cracks in the wall and floor. Hardware rumbled and several onlookers were nearly swept off her feet.

There was a moment of silence as the audience waited for the dust to settle, and what they saw was nothing short of jaw-dropping.

The superhuman was on the floor, but amazingly, he wasn’t down for the count. Frodd stood over him, but his victory had come up short for Rafe had a strong grasp on the end of the club, his arms trembling as he held it back centimeters from his face.

“Get off!” Rafe snarled through gritted teeth.

Frodd pushed, trying to bring his club down on him. “What’s the problem, lil’ lad? Fucked off now that yer on the bottom?”

“Get the fuck off me!”

“Rafe, was it? Sounds a lot like ‘riffraff’, mate,” the first-year barbarian smirked viciously. “Which makes you rubbish, don’t it?”

If this guy kept talking…

Frodd laughed uproariously. “No wonder your da threw you out! With a mistake of a name like that, I’d-”

Rafe’s roar was deafening, but not as shocking as the red that suddenly enveloped the room. The mob covered their eyes and gawked as they witnessed Frodd go airborne, being forcibly elevated by a stream of scarlet energy.

“Woah, woah, woah, woah!” the young barbarian held steadfast to his club while it battled out against the laser.

When his back hit the basement ceiling, the wood pressed itself against his chest, and he screamed in fear and pain as the surface caved just the slightest bit. The beam abruptly split into several different rays, each lethal line severing anything that stood in their path. A banner was cut in two, a cabinet of drinks and other party paraphernalia fell apart, and scorch marks seared themselves into the underground walls. Screams rang out below under the temporary but deadly strobe lights.

A moment later, it was over.

And there was a loud thump as Frodd landed on a wet, alcohol-stained patch of ground, forcing out all the air from his lungs.

It was utterly silent for a minute, nobody saying a word, before the crowd erupted into a frenzy. Thunderous applause reverberated throughout the basement as they whooped and hollered for the two first-year fighters.

“Rafe! Rafe! Rafe!” the audience cheered repeatedly, ogling at the blond superhuman, their amazement and intrigue written across their faces.

Meanwhile, Rafe could see none of it. At least, for several seconds. Though, when his sight came back, he was face-to-face with a worried Andre.

“You okay, dude?” the omé kneeled before him.

Rafe went to respond, but a sudden headache caught up to him. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

Andre winced as he stared at the wound. It was bleeding, thin trails of crimson leaking past the blond’s eye, but it wasn’t egregious. The same went for the bruises on his arms, his flannel shirt’s sleeves ripped apart to reveal littered blue and purple marks.

Suddenly, as if remembering he was in a fight, he brushed Andre aside and searched the area for his opponent.

“Where is he!?” he growled, shooting up to stand as his rage spiked again. “I gonna tear out his fuckin’ throat!”

“Woah, man! Calm down! Calm down!” Andre placed his hands on his friend’s shoulders, trying to get him to sit back down. “I think you’ve had too much to drink. What did you-”

“Hey! Callin’ in reinforcements already!?”

Everyone turned to Frodd, who was back up and staring angrily at the superhuman and omé.

“I don’t need help to kick your ass!” Rafe stomped forward, ignoring his friend’s protests. “Come down here so I can show you exactly what I mean!”

“Chill, dude,” Andre moved to get in front of Raf once more, to which Frodd misinterpreted completely.

Frodd scoffed in disgust, figuring the wolf was going to aid his adversary in battle, and glared at Andre. “How about I show you an’ your damn cur! Eat this!”

And before anything else could be said or done, Frodd unexpectedly reeled back and pitched his own club towards the omega, hoping to take him out first. The weapon spun like a wheel, and Rafe, stunned in disbelief, could only watch as it headed towards an unsuspecting Andre.

It was inches away before Rafe finally fell out of his shocked stupor and made to do something.

But it was too late.

He didn’t have to move at all. The end of the club was centimeters from touching Andre’s temple. And what would have been a total knockout and a wicked headache when he woke up was deterred by the meaty hand of a large, imposing, bald man in barbarian garb, narrowed black eyes on his much younger associate.

“O-Oh, thank-”

“Froddgenskaenn!” he called in a baritone bellow, interrupting Andre’s gratitude. “Get down here!”

It worked like magic, Frodd suddenly shrinking in size at the sight and attention of the huge man. “M-Master Daupligdoth!?”

Rafe nearly snorted out a laugh. What the hell was with these guys and their names?

“S-Sir, I-”

Daupligdoth, or Daup, cut his anxious stammering off with a sneer. “Your excuses better remain on that tongue, boy, or I shall remove it once and for all.”

The first-year was reduced to a kneeling, subservient mess. “Yes. S-Sorry, Master.”

“We’re leavin’. Not only have you ruined my partyin’ mood by actin’ the maggot all night, but you’ve also embarrassed us by making others think we’re nothing but a bunch of psychotic, stone-pitching buffoons!”

“Oh, no. I got so angry, I-”

“Boy!” he pointed Frodd’s club at him in warning as if looking to stab him in the chest with it.

That shut Frodd up immediately, his sullen face aimed at the floor, but not before he sent a heated glare Rafe’s way. The superhuman just smirked back haughtily.

Daup then turned to stare down at Rafe. “As for you-”

“I ain’t one of your lackeys,” the blond glowered back, “so you can just shove it.”

There was no way he was going to be threatened by this big oaf even if he was-

“Actually, I was gonna say that I’m impressed by your skill. You’re somewhat shit-faced, but you’re still able to think on your feet when need be. Rafe, was it? You’d make a deadly brute, mate.”

He nodded with a light smile, and before Rafe could respond, he spun around and headed toward the exit. “On that note, we take our leave.”

The group of barbarians stood from their table and followed him obediently, a few of them grumbling and slapping the head of a sulking Frodd, who gave the superhuman one last scowl before heading out.

While Andre fussed over Rafe, Joe and Lindsay finally broke through the crowd and stood behind Andre, throwing out questions after questions at him.

“You sure took a bit of a walloping,” Lindsay said, softly patting Rafe on the back. “Those barbarians may look regular, old human beings, but their forte is in strength. I’ve heard that they were the original superhumans.”

“That and they have crazy long-ass names,” Joe shook his head while snickering.

Rafe was barely paying attention to them now as black spots began to pool like spilled milk in his vision. His mind was beginning to shut down, the adrenaline from the fight evaporating alongside the strength in his limbs.

“Did you take something?” Andre’s voice permeated through his fogging head. “I thought you weren’t able to get drunk?”

“Not anything… serious,” he slurred. “Just some… bluish-greenish drink some lizard guy gave me.”

“Hm. Darkshine,” Lindsay nodded, though, she seemed unalarmed. “A tasty drink, but only in small doses. It’s meant for fae, but it will only put you to sleep for, like, a couple of hours or so.”

Rafe sniffed, quiet for a minute before quirking his eyebrow in confusion. “For what?”

Andre put an arm around him, keeping his friend from faceplanting. “Yeah, we definitely need to get you out of here. Our first day’s tomorrow. We’re going to leave now, Lindsay. Are you coming?”

She shook her head. “Nah. I’ll stay here. I didn’t see Zoel show up, and Cain is still around. I need to watch him hand his packmate’s ugly ass to him on a platter, so I’m gonna stick around. You guys stay alive out there. I’d like to see you around sometime.”

The blue-haired girl winked as Joe went to a fading Rafe’s other side.

“You, too. See ya!”

“Bye!” the omé waved.

Lindsay reciprocated and let them go on their way. As they trudged towards the exit, several partygoers whistled and exclaimed their congratulations. It seemed the fight gained them some of those “cool points” Lindsay mentioned earlier.

“W-We’re goin’?” Rafe tried to hold up his head. “But I’m not done… kicking that tryhard’s teeth in yet.”

“Why did you guys start fighting anyway?” Andre asked.

The blond superhuman went so quiet that the omé thought he passed out, but a moment later, the former grinned and said, “Frogs have big mouths, man…”

After that, it was lights out for him.