クラブ

Music shook my skull as I bounced around like a frog. The beat pounded like a machine gun, firing endlessly in the vividly red warehouse, only alit by bloody spotlights spinning against the roof. I could barely hear the sound of my own screaming. Not that I minded, that was half the appeal of a rave.

“Kivo, are we ready!” The DJ shouted, pumping her fist in the air.

“WOOO,” my friend Harper screamed, face completely flushed with alcohol, along with half her shirt. “Asta come on! You’re not nearly shitfaced enough.”

“Is there such a thing as shitfaced enough?” I screamed. No class, no police drama, no Caspian judging my every move! I snatched Harper’s beer right from her hands, chugging the can. “Only one way to find out!”

“That’s the spirit!”

“Like there's a girl in this whole room that can outdrink me.” Or guy for that matter.

“Is that a challenge?” Harper said, words ever so slightly slurred as she picked off two drinks from a nearby serving drone.

“You could take it as one.” She tossed me a drink, a cool beer-condensation dripping off the white-painted aluminum. A familiar sizzle vibrated through my arm as I opened the cap. I didn’t need to hear the pop to know what came next.

There was a strategy for drinking. Just chugging wasn’t enough, a guaranteed way to get stomach problems at best. No, anything to demolish the carbonation first. A flat beer may taste bad but who in their right mind was drinking beer for the taste? One small sip, letting the carbonated liquid fill my cheeks before smoothly flowing down my throat.

In between my wandering thoughts, Harper had wanted onto a nearby set of flimsy metal stairs, leaning on a silver keg–right past the very prominent do not enter sign. “Hey Harper…” My voice trailed off as she spun around, railing shaking like a dog's tail. “Get down from there!”

“Why? It’s so fun!” She said, the slurring of her words a bit more prominent.

“Just–I’d rather not deal with driving you to the hospital tonight.”

“Free vacation! Wherever we go we’ll be toge–” Her voice cut into a scream as the railing shattered, leaving her hands grasped tightly on the keg threatening to fall down into the crowd.

“Shit! Everyone back away!”

Somehow, I was able to herd the crowd of drunks away as Harper’s grip slowly loosened. “Harper, you ok up there?”

“Yeah! As good as a girl holding up a hundred pound barrel of alcohol can be.” I gritted my teeth. When it came to physical strength, Harper wasn’t exactly at the top of that list.

A dark, sticky liquid dripped onto the ground–corrosive to the touch. I gagged, nausea assaulting my stomach. “Harper! What the hell–”

From her arm, a stray bit of shattered railing pierced her skin. Blood dropped like rain. I wanted to puke from the smell alone, my alcohol consumption not exactly helping matters. And to make it worse she hadn’t noticed one bit.

“I’m fine… Holy shit!” Her eyes widened, hands shaking as Harper finally caught on.

“Let go!” I scrambled towards the stairs, taking them two at a time.

“But then everyone will get wet!”

“So what? Everyone will get beer all over them sometime tonight anyway. Better than bleeding out!”

“Fine! If you insist…” She roughly let the barrel fall toward the floor. Time slowed-the silver bomb bathed in a shower of red light as it sailed down. I braced myself.

“BOOM!”

Beer exploded everywhere, covering the floor in a tidal wave of cheap booze–a reward for half the crowd. It was a miracle I’d cleared the floor in time. The once pristine barrel now sat crushed, brown liquid squirting out like a water fountain in the middle of the room, or a beer fountain I guess. Personally, under normal circumstances this would be heaven on earth.

I caught Harper’s hand, slowly forcing her to sit down on the cold metal grate. “Not too bad…” Luckily, she’d let go in the knick of time, her body’s medical systems already hard at work sewing up skin and bone alike.

                                                                                * * *

It took a whole fifteen minutes to get Harper's stumbling legs to the rest area a whole hundred feet away. Compared with the zoo outside, the muffled doors and lack of people let my muscles finally relax.

“Did I screw up? I’m so sorry!” Harper said, refusing to look up from the ground.

With her, it was always a gamble. Fun drunk or sad drunk, and if I landed on green she’d show both in one night. Damn, roulette really is a scam.

“Fun night?” From across the room, a man roughly my age lay against a set of brown wooden crates. He was clean-shaven, with grayish blue eyes and dirty blonde hair that seemed to lay wherever it desired. Even lying down I could tell he was tall, a head taller than Caspian at a minimum.

He wore a simple orange t-shirt, letting his almost superhuman frame be obvious to the eye. It felt more sculpted than natural. A simple outfit on the surface, yet every inch felt calculated.

“You could say that,” I sighed, resting both arms behind my head. “Depends on your definition of fun and falling kegs. What’s got you in here?”

“My wife. I was so good at pulling chicks that she got jealous,” he sighed. “That, or our mystery keg bomb got all over her dress.” I flinched, “Don’t worry about it. She may have been pissed off, I thought it was funny as hell. If anything, I don’t get to see her cute annoyed face that often; you gave me a gift.”

“I live to serve,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“I never question where miracles come from, just give thanks that I happened to witness them.”

“Wow, poetic.” I could feel my eyelids crying out as the alcohol started to run through my system. Not even I could starve off time. “Are you a student at Protel?”

“Nah, just a traveler checking out this corner of the world. A friend of mine opened up a bank here and well, any excuse for a vacation is one worth using, at least according to my wife. I’m Soter by the way.”

“Asta, and this sobbing mess is Harper. Don’t think I’ve ever heard that name before.”

“Can’t say I know much of it myself, but a names a name. Doesn’t matter where it's from, just the legacy you attach.” Soter paused, looking out towards the crowd as another man dressed in black walked in. “Looks like my wife’s cleaned herself up.” He slapped his knees, getting up. “Welp, it was nice to meet both of you, and good luck getting your friend home.” With those parting words, he walked out of the room, having to duck under the doorframe.

I eyed Harper, whose tears had dried up a bit ago. “Are you ready to go?”

“Y-yeah.” She grasped my shoulder as we leaned on each other–the alcohol mostly gone from my brain. Damn was this ever going to be an annoying walk back to our apartments.

Yet, while we walked out of the room, that same man in black followed suit, bumping into my shoulder. “Stop investigating the Prometheus Project. This is our first and only warning.”

“Wait–” Yet by the time my words came out he was already gone.