TITAN
Fight

Eric lay inthe middle of the sidewalk. He was covered in glass and cringing through ablinding headache. He noticed three things at once: One, Jim McNulty didn’tlook like he used to. He was taller and well-muscled. While military schoolmight have made him more fit, it wouldn’t makeyou taller. Also, someaspect of Jim was missing. It was not necessarily a physical thing, but Jim wasonly seventy percent there.

What didthey do to him?

Two, Rosewas too close to all of this. She backed away from the table, her eyes dartingbetween Jim, the human leviathan, and Eric lying on the sidewalk, squirming tosit up. And three, peculiarly, Eric saw that his clothes were ripped and torn.They were ruined. He wasn’t sure why this occurred to him.

“Get up!”Jim barked. His frame filled the opening that Eric’s body had made in therestaurant window. His voice was deranged. “Come with me or I’m gonna break youin two.”

What thehell? Eric stood up and saw Jim’seyes, yellow and bloodshot. Eric couldn’t process it. “Are you with them now?The people who killed your family?”

Jim sweptthe table at which Eric and Rose had been sitting against the interior wall,smashing it like particle board. Rose slipped out of the way. She was on allfours, watching the surreal confrontation unfold. Jim pointed at Eric, “Don’tyoudare use them! They’re dead because of you! I can still saveBeth if you come with me now.”

Beth’salive?! Eric gulped back hissurprise. He looked for anything to help him get a grip. He found it in Rose’sfrightened face as she was crouched in the upturned restaurant behind Jim andthe broken plate glass window. “I can’t go with you, Jim. Whoever you’re helping…they killed Sarah. They killed your parents. What do you think they’ll do withyou? And Beth?”

Jim steppedout of the restaurant window and loomed over Eric. He stared down at his oldfriend with rage boiling in his eyes. Eric didn’t react fast enough when Jimsnagged him by the shirt. Before Eric could think, Jim flexed his arms and Erichurtled across the street. He crashed against the brick storefront of atrinkets boutique and the brick wall trembled with the force of Eric’s body. Hepeeled off of the storefront and fell onto the sidewalk. A line of blood traceddown the side of Eric’s head into his collar and beneath his shirt. To Eric’ssurprise, he was only dazed—not unconscious or dead like you would expectsomeone to be after smashing into a brick wall at 60 MPH.

A crowd ofpedestrians watched with gape-jawed surprise. Some of them backpedaled and ranaway west on King Street or east towards the river. Traffic stopped at thecorner.

Jim stormedacross the street with long strides. A big pickup truck coming up from theriver bore down on him, but he saw it out of his periphery and threw hisshoulder into the grill, slamming the vehicle to an immediate stop. The truck’sback end squawked into the air as Jim wrapped his hands under the bumper and rolledthe truck back towards the north side of the street. A pack of young people,roughly Eric’s age, passed in front and moved too slow. The truck caught themmid-stride and pinned them against the pavement. The few that survived thetruck landing on them cried for help. The fleeing rabble ignored them and ranpast. A father in a business suit slipped between the flipped truck and the carbeside it, holding two young children, one in each arm, without missing a step.Those who couldn’t run quickened their gait to escape unnoticed. The cool, calmevening was over.

One of thepolice cars on patrol nearby stopped at the south end of King Street and anofficer stepped out with his gun drawn and his body positioned behind the opendriver’s side door. Jim saw him and snarled a curse under his breath. He lifteda Prius parked beside him onto his shoulder and bounced it end over end at thecop. The small car caromed across several vehicles and collided with the sideof the police car, which in turn rolled over on top of the officer. The cop hadnot been able to process the fact that a car had been thrown at him. He triedto dodge a moment too late.

“JIM!” Ericclimbed to his feet, woozy. “You’re killing these people!”

Jim sneered.“No. You’re killing these people by being the same selfish fuck youalways were. If you’d just come with me, it’d be over.”

“And you’dbe dead along with Beth and my parents,” Eric said. “I can’t believe this, Jim.We’re friends! Brothers. How can you just… just do this?”

Jim lurchedtoward Eric, but he didn’t budge. Jim grabbed Eric by his tattered shirt again.“I’ll show you.”

Eric grippedJim’s wrists and wrenched them loose from his shirt. Both Eric and Jim becameaware of the other’s strength in that moment. Jim didn’t feel like a mannequinlike Tim and Simon did; his strength and weight were palpable and immense. Ifhurling cars hadn’t convinced Eric, prying Jim’s arms away from him did.

Jimrealized, too, that Eric was light, but solid. With his strength beingcountered, Jim hesitated, allowing Eric to plant a two-handed shove right intoJim’s broad chest. Jim reeled across the street and connected with the side ofa panel van that was parked near the Italian restaurant. The van’s side dimpledas Jim impacted with it and the vehicle rolled onto its side, taking Jim alongwith the force of the blow. Jim ended up in a heap on the sidewalk in front ofthe restaurant where Eric had been minutes before.

Roseexploded out of the front door of the restaurant, her hair waving behind herhead like gorgeous flames. She weaved around Jim, who was climbing back on hisfeet, and grabbed Eric’s shoulder. He caught her in one arm with a spare eye onJim.

“Eric!Jesus,” Rose panted. “Let’s go!”

“I can’t!”Eric shouted over the din of screaming people and distant police sirens.“That’s Jim. Something’s wrong with him.”

Rosesnorted. “Fuck­yeah there is! He’s trying to kill you!”

Jim charged,his eyes fixed on Eric, set to kill. In the instant of time Eric had to react,he could only do two things: shove Rose clear and wrap his arms around Jim asthe freight-train son of a bitch carried him into the wall behind him andthrough it like a supercharged NFL tackle.

The next fewmoments were a tangle of bricks, debris, and fists. Eric felt the sensation ofhitting the wall as a moment of heavy pressure between Jim’s incredible forceand the brick wall’s stubborn refusal to break. When it did, the old wood floorinside the store broke beneath them as they crashed into it.

Aglassy-eyed doll stared at Eric from a metal rack tilted on an angle from thecollapse of the wall. He rolled onto his stomach over the brick pile andscrambled away from Jim, who was getting his second wind. The store owner, aslight old woman, sprinted faster than Eric thought possible out of the realdoor and into the street filled with panicked passers-by.

It was justEric and Jim now.

It was time.

Eric felthis bones run magma hot. His muscles pumped fresh blood. His fists clenchedwith the tide of force within him and pin-like needles shot through his poresand snapped into tight weaves faster than his eyes could track. It was like awave of liquid metal surged over his skin and coated him in a steel shell. Thesharp, embossed “T” etched into his chest last as Eric leveled new, sharper eyesat Jim. He rose out of the bricks and broken planks of wood. His musclesbreathed strength. His blood pumped power.

When Jim sawEric bearing Titan’s armor, it wasn’t fear or awe he felt—it was hate. TheShadow Man was right. Eric had been lying. He had killed Jim’s family to hidethis secret. Now Eric was rubbing it in his face, proving the smiling shadowbastard right with every action.

“You lyingshit!” Jim spat. Dark blood oozed from his wounds. His lacerations healedin moments, but the blood remained, staining Jim with its brackish ichor. “Thatbastard was right about you! About everything!”

“Who wasright?” Eric asked. “Who’s doing this, Jim? Who did this to you?”

Jim steppedtoward Eric, crashing through the bricks as if they weren’t there. He growled. “YOUDID THIS!”

Jim came atEric, leading with a right arm that Eric countered with his left—a whip cracksnap and Jim’s arm dropped mid-swing. Eric leveled a flat-footed kick rightinto Jim’s center of mass. Jim’s eyes bugged out and the air went out of him ashe flew backwards through the shop window and clattered across the roof of asedan parked along the street.

Eric movedthrough the hole in the wall and around the car to replace Jim ready to pounce.Jim’s fist shot up like a piston and caught Eric under the chin, jerking hishead back like a bobble. Titan’s armor hardened around Eric’s face in response,but he still saw stars and staggered, but he didn’t lose his footing. Jim ragedout of control with fists flying fast. Few landed, but the ones that didrattled Eric and sharpened the ringing in his head. Jim’s face was so twistedwith blood and rage he didn’t look human.

“It’s niceto see you’re getting back on the horse!” Jim barked. “Dating and having fun.I’m glad you’re so broken up about your best buddy getting the shitkickedout of him and about killing my family! What a pal!” Jim landed a piston blastinto Eric’s side, doubling him over. “Where is your slut, anyway?”

In the brief instant Jim feigned lookingfor Rose, Eric slipped in close and hooked a cross into Jim’s cheek, sendinghim sideways. Before Jim could recover, Eric grabbed his shirt, pulled him downto his level, and head-butted him with an iron-plated mask.

The ragingbehemoth staggered and fell on his ass, clutching his head. He wore a look ofsurprise when he pulled his hand away from his face and a piece of skin andflesh dangled between his fingers. The gushing blood running down his faceblinded him. Eric, too, stopped and flinched. A chunk of Jim’s forehead wasgone, flowing with blood, down to bare skull. His solid, pasty white bonelooked queer under the yellow streetlights.

Eric reactedlike a little kid who hurt another and didn’t want to get caught. “Oh God! Jim,I’m sorry!”

Jim’sresponse sounded something like, “Reeaahhhggg!” He was on his feet in a blink.Jim moved in a limping stagger toward Eric. His face was a mess of blood,sweat, and ruined flesh. Even though Jim was alive, Eric was struck by how muchhe looked like a zombie, covered in blood and lusting for death. Eric didn’tstop Jim when his bloody hands gripped his shoulders. “WHAT DID YOU DO TOME?!”

Eric was shocked by Jim’s wound anddidn’t react fast enough when Jim threw him down King Street toward the river.Eric flew through the air long enough to think about what he was experiencing.His arms waved and his legs kicked. He was helpless.

I shouldthink about a cape like Batman; maybe I could glide?

It was toolate now and Eric was too inexperienced. Jim had a good arm. Eric glanced offthe corner of the Torpedo Factory, more than a block away from liftoff, anddovetailed into the street beside the entrance to the pier. Hard, stiff painradiated through Eric like hate raged through Jim. Every inch of his body achedand it was hard for him to breathe. However, the part of Eric’s brain that wasnot telling him how much it hurt was musing that if this had happened a monthago, he’d be splattered all over the street.

Some peoplewho had fled Jim’s initial attack were huddled behind the large, brick columnoutside the entrance to the Torpedo Factory building trying to call for help orfilm the fight on their smartphones. A young man and woman came out from behindthe column and rushed to Eric’s side.

“Jesus,buddy! How the hell’re you still in one piece?” The man sounded vaguelynortheastern. Eric wished he was Spider-Man; if he had been, maybe he wouldhave had a clever retort. Instead, his response was a pained grunt.

When Erictried to push up from the ground, the girl squeaked, “No! Stay down. You’rehurt!”

Eric shookhis head; every movement stung him. “I… have to stop him…”

“You thinkyou’re Superman or something? Dressed like that?” the girl said. “You just gotthrown like a mile!”

Ericstruggled to his feet and he found Jim racing toward him at an all-out sprint.Their eyes locked. The friendly tourists steadied Eric with a helping hand.

“Well, goodluck to ya, man,” the man backpedaled as he saw Jim approach. “But that dude’sa fuckin’ truck.”

Eric smiledbeneath the mask. The metal fibers attached to his skin pulled at the exteriorshowing the Good Samaritans his reaction. “Thanks for the pep talk. And ‘man’ain’t my name.”

“Oh yeah?What is it?” The man asked.

“Titan.”

Saying itout loud made it feel real.

“Well, I’mNeil. Don’t getcha face busted.”

Eric turnedand faced Jim, leaving Neil and his lady friend to flee. Eric took Neil’sadvice to heart and ran, too. Eric and Jim met in the center of the street in asickening clap of meat, bone, and metal. Jim swung blistering haymakers atEric, who slipped and dodged what he could and gritted his teeth through whathe couldn’t. Eric crept in tight so Jim couldn’t get a good shot. It forced Jimto backpedal, which put him off balance.

Eric tookadvantage. Jim was enhanced with strength like Eric’s. But whatever procedurethey used required adding heft and size, which made him slow. It also reducedhis maneuverability. Eric had comparable strength and he was agile, thoughwoozy with pain. He worked inside Jim’s powerhouse blows, taking a few dead onand feelingthem, but hitting Jim in the middle.

Ericcouldn’t help but hear Rocky quotes from his trainers, “The body, thebody, the body! Chop him down!”

Jim’sstaggered with every shot Eric gave him. Landing the blows gave Eric thedetermination to throw another and another. Before long, Jim wasn’t droppingbombs; he was backing away trying to protect himself. Each shot sapped Jim’senergy, but they also fueled his anger. Eric knew that if he let up, Jim wouldgo nuts.

As if hehadn’t already.

With adesperate explosion of energy, Jim pushed ahead, running through Eric, givinghim breathing room. Eric was knocked on his knees, but he quickly found hisfeet again. Jim looked terrible. The chunk of his missing forehead was stilldraining blood and the rest of Jim’s body was a red mess. Some of Eric’s bodyshots had exposed new wounds, but if Jim was in pain from these wounds, hedidn’t show it.

“You pussy,”Jim spat. “Hiding in your suit. You wanna know what they did to me? Do youreally? They gave me injections from it. But mine’s better! I’m stronger thanyou!”

Where’dthey get it from?

Sarah. They injected Jim with what they took fromSarah. Little Sarah, who was barely minutes old when they mutilated her.

“You dumb fuck!”Eric screamed. “Do you know where they got it from? HUH? From Sarah! Rememberher? That’s why she was like she was. They took her when she was a baby and...They took her life away, Jim! THESE are the people you’re with!”

A flicker ofsomething resembling humanity ignited in Jim for the space of a second. Heremembered Sarah. Whenever he went to Eric’s house for a sleepover or just tohang out, Sarah was there on the couch, watching… forced to sit or lay forever…but she’s dead…

…like myparents!

“NO! Morelies! You kept this from me all those years. From ME! I was your friend. YourBEST FRIEND!Now look at me!” Jim’s cries were laced with somethingcloser to humanity than his bitter roars. Something close to regret. Somethingclose to tears. “Now all I have left is to take you back to save Beth!”

Jim’sglimmer of humanity disappeared and he roared ahead. He was little more than asuper-powered bone machine, slick with blood. Eric was afraid that if they keptthings up in the middle of the street, some of the people, like good ol’ Neil,would get hurt in the collateral damage.

Ericsidestepped Jim’s charge, snagged his arm, and used the momentum to swing Jimaround, up, and over the Torpedo Factory roof toward the pier. Eric’s throwdidn’t have the mustard that Jim’s did, but Jim went where Eric meant him togo.

Towardthe water.

Eric wasn’tsure why, but something told him getting Jim to the water was a good idea. Hewas learning that listening to that “something” inside was a good idea. Itdidn’t ever give him definite directions, but in broad strokes it guided him topositive ends. Though, he wasn’t sure what could be very positive about the endcoming up here. Eric imagined that whatever end was coming, it wasn’t one hewanted to be a part of. It was likely that Jim was going to die or he was. Buthe didn’t intend to hurl Jim out there to go and get killed himself.

Despiteexhaustion and the pain plaguing every step, Eric sprinted after Jim. He didn’tmove as lightly as he had when out with his dad, but he hadn’t flown a hundredyards without wings before doing that. Eric’s mind, still mostly based in theworld he thought he knew, couldn’t wrap itself around this situation. He waswearing a super suit and fighting his best friend, who was now a monster. So hewasn’t thinking; he was just doing. Doing what needed to be done.

He heard hisfather’s voice in his mind: A man has to do some things he may not want to.But he does ‘em anyway. That’s why he’s a man. Tim had said that, but Ericheard more than a little bit of Art in the message as well.

Ericoperated on spontaneous programming for the time being. His inner connection orwhatever it was nudged him here and there. He wasn’t sure if he could trust itcompletely yet, but beggars can’t be choosers and it brought him this far.

Jim landedbeside an ice cream stand about fifty yards from the pier’s edge. He felt theskin on his chest slide down his muscles and pool in his shirt like jelly. He wasso consumed with hate that he barely processed the injuries as pain.Regardless, Jim’s working mind was aware that he was falling apart. But Jimdidn’t feel hurt. He felt mad. Eric had gotten in some good shots and slowedhim, but Jim felt powerful. He wouldn’t have even known he’d been injured if ithadn’t been for the blood and his peeling skin.

The peopleon the pier in line at the ice cream stand were understandably surprised whenJim landed beside them. Tentative looky-loos approached until Jim pushedhimself up with a grunt and they got a good look at him. He snarled and theyfled.

Jim rippedhis shirt off and a sheet of mangled, jellied skin came with it. His baredbones were thick, bulging, and overflowing with lithe muscle that pulsed like abeating heart. This wasn’t everywhere; his arms had retained their skin andmost of his face was still intact.

Eric ranalong the back of the Torpedo Factory. His dull silver suit was pocked andtorn. A smear of blood ran from the bottom of the face mask down his neck andlooked like it was part of the suit. The fight was taking a toll on him. If Jimcould get just a couple of shots… Eric skidded to a stop about ten feet away.Jim couldn’t read Eric’s expression through his mask, but he sensed Eric wasdisgusted…

…sorrowful…he’s your best friend… doyou think he’s happy about this?

YES. Hedid this. I’m ripped to pieces and my sister’s a hostage because of him! Butnot for long.

As Jim’slast vestiges of conscience and emotion, struggled to surface against the tideof his surging rage, Eric spoke. It was a plea. The final one.

“Jim… God,look at you… Let me get you to a hospital. We can still make this right. Tellme where Beth is and I’ll replace her. I can save her, Jim,” Eric said.

“I’m gonnasave her. Because whether or not I get you, he’ll get you,” Jim said. “But I’mgoing to.” Jim stepped forward.

“Jim, wait!No!” Eric braced himself and then sidestepped Jim again. But this time, Jim’sboulder-like arm flicked out and caught Eric like a clothesline. Eric spun inthe air and came down on his chest, the air exploding from his lungs in a greatcough. Eric tried to roll away, still coughing, but Jim whirled on him andkicked him down the dock. Eric skidded into a heap near the steakhouse near thewater’s edge. More pedestrians screamed and ran. Jim ignored them. Hisattention was fixed.

Somethingfelt broken inside Eric. He wasn’t sure what exactly, but his stomach stabbedhim with a piercing ache he had never felt before. A broken rib, maybe?

Wow, I’venever broken a bone before…

It sucks.

As Jimapproached—his twisted, bloody grin growing—Eric realized that his head wouldget broken if he didn’t do something. He concentrated on his arm. He felt itsplace, attached to his shoulder, and focused on his elbow, his forearm, and hishand. He remembered the sensation of an appendage extending outward from hishand. A long beam, more solid and focused than what he had made before, slidfrom his palm. It was a silvery piece of rebar with a sharp point. Eric rolledonto his back and hurled it at Jim. The spear cut the air.

Jim reached to snag it in midair and did.Kind of. His large hand, sloppy with blood and jellied flesh, slipped the gripand the spear shot through his palm and pinned his hand to his chest. Half ofthe spear disappeared into Jim’s chest. He staggered, mewling in pain orfrustration—probably both.

Eric knewthat this was his last chance. The pain in his lower torso was blinding andevery hit from Jim was like a jackhammer; he couldn’t take anymore. He grindedonto his feet and ran to Jim. He gripped the spear and shoved it deeper,effectively taking Jim’s right arm out of the fight. Jim screamed and struckwith his left arm, but it was a sweep of blind defense and Eric dodged. Ericthrew two hard body blows into Jim’s stomach, doubling him over, and thenconnected with a knee to Jim’s head. A spray of blood and skin splashed overEric as Jim fell back, mewling blood-choked hate.

But Jimwasn’t done yet. He tore the spear from his chest using the hand that it wasimpaled through. Then he ripped it out of his palm and stepped into a batter’sswing. The rod caught Eric in the upper chest and lifted him up and out like apop fly. This time he was too blindsided to marvel at soaring through the air.

Eric landedon the railing at the edge of the dock with a terrible crack and splashed intothe murky water below. He floundered for a few moments before dipping under thebrown-green current and into darkness.

Jim smiledwith satisfaction. He took one step before falling on his face. He tried topush himself up, but he only made it halfway before thundering back to thedeck. Figures in dark clothes appeared from nearby and swarmed over Jim. One ofthem moved at his own pace. A streetlight illuminated the man’s aged face andrevealed the familiar grin of the Shadow Man. He was most at home in darknessand lithely moved against the backdrop of queer light cast by the rising moonand pier lamps.

Jim’swrithing body was lifted into the air on the backs of dark shoulders. One ofthe men not carrying Jim motioned to the pier’s edge and said, “What about thetarget, sir?”

The sirensthat had been distant long ago were now right on top of them as squad carswheeled around the side of the Torpedo Factory, within sight. The Shadow Mantilted his head toward the commotion and his smile dimmed. “We’re out of time.Leave him for now. If he’s dead, we’ll get him out of the morgue. If not, he’llbe too weak to fight back when we come for him. For now, get Bone to thevan. We’ll get lost in the confusion. Move.” Slipping along the dark crevicesbehind the factory, bathed in the shadows cast under the moon, the Shadow Manand his men disappeared into the night.

* * *

Eric hadnever tasted piss, but the Potomac River probably tasted just like it. The coldriver water shocked him awake. He broke the river’s surface with a gasp. He hadsome sense of where he had landed and he could tell that he must have drifteddown river. It only took a few weak kicks and paddles to bring him to the edgeof the lower pier on the riverside of the steak place. With reserves of energyEric didn’t know he had, he pulled himself onto the pier and lay there in apool of polluted, muddy river water coughing.

Titan wasgone. Jim’s “homerun” blast must have knocked it right back into his bones. Hefelt like a massive bleeding wound. His head had a knot on it the size ofGreece, his bottom lip was split and bleeding, and at least two of his ribswere broken. On top of all that, every foul pollutant in the Potomac River hadcommingled with his blood. When he tried to sit up, lightning bolts of painsettled him on his back again. He swore he could feel the broken edges of hisribs rubbing against each other. Before today, Eric had never broken a bone. Nowhe had a few of them, at least.

Jim!Where’s Jim?! The thoughtflooded into his mind with the force of a hurricane. Pain or no pain, hescrambled to his feet feeling warm blood dance over his tongue.

Jim was goneand so were most of the people. Loud sirens and the faint red and blue flickerof police lights sharpened his senses. He had to leave. Now. It wouldn’ttake long to put two and two together to figure out that Titan had been knockedinto the river and Eric Steele came out. Also, he didn’t want a cop to see himand insist on getting him to a hospital. One trip per year was enough. Everystep was a serrated dagger of pain in his side, but he gritted through it andmade his way to Union Street, which crossed in front of the Torpedo Factory.People were clustered together and milling around as police officers wadedamong them trying to put order to the mobs.

God… ifthey don’t see me, they’ll smellme…

Everyone wasso preoccupied with telling each other what they had seen or heard that Ericslipped through unnoticed. The hobbling, teenage kid skulking into the shadowswas able to wade through without incident. He leaned on a building to catch hisbreath when he realized that he’d forgotten where he was going. I gotta getto my car!But there wassomething else…

Rose.

Whileabsorbing pile drivers from Jim, Eric had lost track of Rose. The last time heremembered seeing her was when he shoved her out of Jim’s way. He never evensaw where that shove had landed her.

Damn…think, think…

Eric reachedinto his pocket and came out with his cell phone and a splash of water. Thephone was cracked and smashed.

“Damn…” Heknew where his car was, but every step was a battle. Eric wasn’t sure if it wasjust night blindness, but things were becoming hazy. His head was swimming andthe pain in his side was blinding. His mind became gripped with horror as allthings lost light at the edges of his sight—they became black like walls… likein the room…

­…whereSarah waited…

“No… no…”Eric stumbled on a slice of raised sidewalk, but he kept moving. He traveled ina deliberate semi-circle around the crowds and the police. He had no idea howfar he’d gone or where he was until he slammed into the side of his car.

“Eric?!” afamiliar voice called from far away. He wasn’t sure he had actually heard ituntil a sweet smell wafted into his nostrils and he recognized Rose’s perfume.He managed to smell it over the rank river sludge that soaked him through. Whenhe saw her, a wave of black washed over him. When his awareness returned, hewas lying on the sidewalk with Rose looking down at him.

“Eric,please wake up!” Rose said while shaking him. Her ear hovered over his mouthand his breathing was shallow.

His eyesopened into little slits. “Memorable first date, huh?”

Rose laughednervously and brushed clotted blood and debris out of Eric’s eyes. “You’regetting negative feedback on OKCupid for sure, but you can make it up to me.First, we have to get you to a hospital.”

“No…” Ericshook his head—or thought he did; agony rose into the back of his throat justbelow his ears made him think so. “Just… I gotta get home… gotta get youhome… I’m so sorry…”

Rose leanedclose. Her scent brought Eric out of his haze if only for a moment. “Eric… I…did I see what I thought I did?” Eric nodded absently. Rose’s heart skipped abeat and her mind wrestled with asking the next, final question: “And… thatman… the guy in the suit… was that you?”

Eric’s eyesopened and he looked at her. She was shivering. Her eyes were red and her chestpulsed with pounding heart beats. Eric wanted to tell her. He didn’t want tolive a secret that only his parents knew—that was too lonely for his tastes.His dad had never told him, specifically, that he couldn’t reveal who he was toothers. But the reasons against it were obvious. Especially where this enemywas concerned. They didn’t care who they hurt or how; they only cared aboutgetting Titan.

But… I trust her…

It was assimple as that. There were some people that engendered trust. There wereindividuals who were open, honest people. Eric sensed that quality in Rose.He’d already told her so much.

“Pleasedon’t tell anyone,” Eric said before he disappeared again into the black.

* * *

Eric wasn’tgoing to wake up any time soon. Surprised that he had even made it as far as hedid, Rose set about getting him home like he had asked. She found his car keysin one of his pockets and allowed a brief smile at the condom in his left frontpocket.

Wishfulthinking?

Eric’swallet was in his back pocket. Rose found his driver’s license and addressinside. She remembered seeing a power cable that wasn’t for a cell phone in thecup holder of Eric’s car; after some searching, she came up with a GPS in hisglove compartment. The “Home” button was programmed with Eric’s address.

Getting Ericinto the car was the hard part. He was dead weight. But after some heaving,pulling, and pushing, Rose guided him into the backseat. His right arm dangledover the side onto the floor like an upside down metronome. She considered thatshe might have been hurting him by moving him, but Eric’s last wish was to gohome. Rose felt like she should honor that.

The drive toEric’s house was fairly uneventful, though it gave her time to go overeverything that had happened. Not everything was easily processed, of course.Coming to grips with people tackling other people through walls and hurlingthem down city streets wasn’t so easy. And Eric’s display of strength and thatsuit…

…with hismuscles tightly outlined…

Rose skirtedout of Old Town along the same back roads Eric had used to get there. She wasafraid the police would close down the nearby roads, but they must have stillbeen getting a handle on the pandemonium that had erupted during the fight, notto mention dealing with the dead cop.

And whatabout that guy, Jim? Eric talked about him in his story about his ex. You had seen him. Eric didn’t just tell you. You livedthe story with him.

Everythinghappened so fast after Eric shared his story about Melanie that Rosecouldn’t process what she had experienced. She had actually seen whatEric had described—she had been in the story with him, seeing what he had seen,and feeling what he had felt. She had felt his emotions, both in the moments ofthe past and as he told the story. Rose experienced an up swell of butterfliesin her stomach, like Eric had, when he first kissed Melanie and she sensed hisfeelings of regret and longing as he relived the memory. She sensed, too, hisselfishness and cruelty as he broke Melanie down so she would cry. Rose sensedhow, as he did it, he knew it was wrong, but he did it anyway. She sensed howmuch he loved her all the same. At the time, she had been so caught up inreliving the memory with him that she couldn’t react or fully process howextraordinary—and scary—the experience was of actually sharing another person’smemories. One person’s emotions and thoughts were complex enough withoutprocessing another’s.

Hetouched me. Eric touched myhand.

Roseremembered now. Eric had touched her hand as he began to talk and he pulled hishand away when it was over. In the moment that Eric touched her hand, aconnection bridged between their minds. She lost the emotions and the visualsthat had filled her up as soon as their hands separated. In that moment ofseparation, Rose felt drained and exhausted just like after a good, hard cry.It made sense. She had experienced the emotions of three people at once: Ericthen, Eric now, and her own reactions.

Rose glancedat Eric in the rearview mirror as though she could replace answers by looking athim.

How isthat possible? How could I have seen his memories?

What tickledher most was that she was all wrapped up in trying to figure out how it waspossible for her to have shared Eric’s memories and she was ignoring the factthat Eric had become someone else. She hadn’t seen him transform, but he wentthrough the wall of the store and when Jim came flying out, the other onewalked through the rubble onto the street. And here Eric was now, all beaten tohell, just like the man in the silver suit had been—the man in the form-fittingsilver suit.

How isthis even a question? That was Eric. Somehow, Eric became that man. SomehowEric shared his memories. What the hell have I gotten myself into? Who IS thisguy?

Rose hadfelt something special about Eric when they met, but how could she have evertranslated that to mean: Oh, of course, this guy is a telepathic superhero!She was scared and excited. It was a secret only she knew. Besides that, Erichad shared his most private memories and emotions with her.

Rose hadfelt Eric’s loneliness at the end of the story, when they passed through thememories of Jim leaving. Eric and Jim were best friends. They had grown uptogether and knew each other like only best friends can. But what had happenedback there in Old Town? That was a story Rose didn’t know.

All she didknow was that Jim was Eric’s best friend—or used to be. Rose had seen Jim enterthe restaurant. He looked right at Eric, his eyes yellow with feral anger. Andwhen those eyes had passed over her, she felt cold inside. Eric must havethought she was reacting to his story. Glancing back over her shoulder at Ericlying on the backseat, twisted and broken, Rose regretted not acting. Sheshould have said something sooner. The scene had been so surreal, though, andshe had been so overwhelmed.

God, Ihope his parents are home.

Eric lookedlike he was sleeping, but his breathing was shallow. Rose was terrified that hewould die in the backseat before she could get him help. Her mind was wrestlingbetween the reality that she used to know, where men didn’t flip cars withtheir bare hands, and this new improbable one.

But thenagain, he was really strong and had that suit. It looked like leather, spandex,and sheet metal had a baby.

Who cares?He’ll die!

Rose cameclose to wheeling the car around and speeding to the nearest hospital. But shedidn’t. Eric stirred in the backseat, making sounds that were maybe attempts atwords but made no sense. At least no sense she could intuit. At least he wasstill alive; it convinced her to keep going. He wanted to go home and that’swhere she’d take him.

Hell of afirst date. I’d be better off with one of Constance’s ass-pinching freaks.

Rose knewshe didn’t believe that. She had thought Eric was special before. Now she knewit. That was enough to keep driving.

* * *

Tim sawEric’s car speed up the street toward the house from the dining room window. Hegot a feeling—that feeling—something was wrong. His senses weren’t aspronounced as Eric’s, but he had intuition like anyone else. But this wasstronger. The sight of the car barreling up the street vibrated though hisbones like an electric shaver running up his spine. It never occurred to himthat maybe it was simply his sense as a father. And when the pretty girl withred hair jumped out of the car and ran toward the house, Tim ran to the frontdoor.

He pulledthe door open and before he could say anything, the young girl started talking.“My name’s Rose. I was on a date with Eric when he was attacked. He’s hurt realbad and he said to bring him home.”

Tim almoststepped through Rose. “He’s in the car?”

“Yeah.”

Tim leanedinto the house for a moment and called out, “Nancy, get some blankets and thefirst aid kit!”

“What? What’sgoing on?” Nancy asked from somewhere else inside.

“Dammit,Nance… just do it!” Tim ran to Eric’s car with Rose on his heels.

As Tim gotto the door, Rose tried to warn him. “He was in the river, so he smells kinda…”

Tim’snostrils flared when he pulled the back door open. The sickly sour brine smellof the Potomac River washed over him. But it lasted only a moment; his son washurt. He looked back at Rose and examined her expression. Whoever she was, shecared enough to replace out where Eric lived and drive him home. Damn brave. “’Rose,’you said?”

She nodded.Her eyes were wide and red.

“Help mewith him. Can you get his feet?” Tim asked, though it sounded more like anorder.

“Of course.”She stood beside Tim as he dragged Eric out by his leg. Tim guided Eric’s legsto Rose’s hands. She took them while Tim lifted the rest of Eric’s broken formin his arms. He cradled Eric’s head with his chest and held him beneath hisshoulders.

They hauledEric into the house and Tim led Rose to the couch in the living room. They laidEric out, one leg hanging over the side, while Tim guided a pillow under hisneck. Nancy brought out an old, tin first aid kit from down the hall. Shehesitated at the sight of Eric on the couch, but she called upon some secretreserve of strength to move ahead.

Tim gesturedto Rose. “Nancy, this is Rose. Rose, could you shut the front door?” His voicewas calm but urgent.

Rose was inher own world, staring at Eric lying still on the couch, and almost didn’t hearhim. “O-oh. Yes. Sure.” She walked back and slid the door into place, almostthankful to be out of the living room where she didn’t feel that she belonged.She was an outsider. But she cared about Eric and wanted to know if he wasokay.

“Rose.”Eric’s dad called her name and it made her jump. Anything that tied her to thisweird reality was a shock.

“Yeah?”

“Tell meexactly what happened.” Tim asked as he was checking Eric’s limbs and torso.When he pressed Eric’s side, Eric stirred with a groan but remained passed out.

Rose didn’t tell them about the sharedmemory. She wasn’t sure why. Besides, it didn’t really impact what had happenedto Eric afterward. She told them everything else.

Tim noddedas he examined Eric’s wounds. Nancy stroked his hair and wiped the dirt andblood off of his face with a washcloth. “What happened to Jim?”

Rose nibbledher fingernails and clutched her side with her other arm. “I thought he was ondrugs… and I didn’t see what happened to him. He ran after Eric when he threwhim. There were so many people running and screaming I got caught up in thecrowd…”

“It’s okay,”Nancy put her arm around Rose’s shoulders. “You got him home.”

Rose decidedthat she was already halfway in; she might as well dive in. “What did I see?How could Eric do those things? And the other guy…?”

Tim dabbed Eric’sknuckles with hydrogen peroxide and wiped the blood off them with cotton swabs.He smirked, but Rose didn’t know if it was amusement or not. “It’s not a briefexplanation. But the short version is that Eric is special. He’s got somethingthat some bad people want. I dunno what they did to Jim, but…” He shook hishead. “Jim is… was… Eric’s best friend. I don’t know how they got himinto this.”

“Beth…” Ericmuttered. His lips were dry and cracked. His eyes remained closed, but he wasawake. His hand touched his dad’s arm. “Beth isn’t dead. They…” His closed eyesclenched tighter, responding to some stinging pain inside. “They have her…”

“Christ…”Nancy breathed. “Timmy, who are these people?” Her hand covered her mouth asthoughts of her daughter swirled. Imagining the kind of life Sarah might havehad plagued Nancy as it always did. But now these bastards were hurting otherpeople, too. All in order to get Titan. For something they could manipulateinto a weapon… a fucking weapon…

Tim saidnothing. How do you fight men you can’t replace? Men whose lives are dedicated toknowing everything about you. Men who have no qualms about hurting or killingpeople to get what they want. Tim felt old rage well up inside his heart. Hebelieved the only way to beat these guys was to get down in the gutter withthem.

Ericwon’t do that, though. He’snot made that way. Superpowers or no, he’s got a heart. He’s not a murderer…he’s not me…

Tim wrappedthe last bandage and stood up. “Thanks for bringing him home, Rose. He’ll beokay.” Rose stared at Eric and nodded. Her eyes lifted up at Tim and he sawfear, worry, and about a hundred other things that flash across her face. Hegestured to Eric. “He heals fast. He’ll be up and around tomorrow.”

“Could I seehim?” Rose asked.

“Sure,” Timnodded. “Now let me take you home.”

“Okay.”Nancy guided her to the front door. They all walked outside into the night,illuminated by the porch light.

“Rose… Ihope you won’t tell anyone about this,” Tim said. “Eric’s in a lot of danger.”

“I won’t. Iwouldn’t. He saved me. I’ll keep his secret,” Rose said. She looked Tim andNancy in the eyes, moving between them.

“I thoughtso,” Tim said. Rose followed Tim to his truck and they hopped in. Nancy watchedthem disappear up the street.

* * *

A Mercedes,much like the one that was usually parked in the driveway next door to theSteele residence, was parked in the neighboring garage. The two men inside thecar observed Rose pull up. They had also watched Tim and Rose carry the limpbody of Eric Steele into the house.

They radioedthis information to their base, which retransmitted it to the nondescript vanthat was circling out of Old Town with Jim McNulty smuggled in the back. Themessage transmitted back was: “If you see an opening, take him. The father willbe a problem, so kill him in his sleep.”

As Tim andRose disappeared around the corner, the two men slipped their goggles and maskson. Before they got out of the car, they cocked their guns.