TITAN
Who Are You?

If you’reJim McNulty on the night of his fight with Titan, you are rage personified. Butyou are trapped inside of yourself because your body is so beaten and bloodiedthat you cannot unleash that fury physically. On the inside, you are thrashingthrough the rooms of your mind, knocking over tables, breaking windows,smashing bookshelves, and tearing down doors.

You go toplaces that were once happy, where good memories lived. But these memories onlyinfuriate you because they remind you of what you used to be: weak, small, andwithout control. And they remind you that you were once whole, with a family,friends, and a body that didn’t shed its skin like a snake.

No matterhow much you destroy, everything remains. You still used to be Jim McNulty:son, friend, and student. But now you’re Bone, a hideous experimentdesigned by people who hide in the dark. They won’t go into the light, so theysend you. And with all the strength and power that you have, you still failed. Yourold friend still lives. You hit him as hard as the hate in your heart wouldallow, but deep down you know… You have been friends too long to not know if hewas dead or not. And besides, you share his gift with him. The faint hummingthat speaks to your friend speaks to you, too, but yours is corrupted andviolent. You know your friend is alive because every place he hit you burnswith an unquenchable fire. His death would extinguish it, but the agony stillplagues you. Eric lives and you suffer.

You fearwhat Beth will do when she sees you. You’re covered in clotted, dark blood andchunks of your skin are missing. You’re not stupid—you know that you’ll neverbe healed again. All of the pain that drives you into yourself is focused bythe single goal of saving your sister. Your life doesn’t matter because itnever did. Your parents washed their hands of you when they sent you away.You’ve always only had yourself. But Beth is not part of that. She neverspurned you or treated you badly. She is the one person who looked up to you.Who loved you. And now she needs your help. For defense. For salvation. She’llunderstand.

Eric saidthat these people hurt his sister, Sarah. You don’t know if that’s true, butthere is a part of you that wonders. Something in you remembers a time whenthat information would have mattered. It doesn’t seem to now, though. No. Allthat matters is killing Eric.

Yes.Killing him.

Trying totake him alive was your first mistake. You held back. You remembered what wasand not what is. Eric does not care what happens to you. That is what you tellyourself as you assail the walls in your mind, enraged that they will not fallbefore you. You remember hearing these things somewhere… in the dark… at night…like a voice had whispered them into your ear for hours. But that’s notimportant. The part of you that resisted believing is now weary. It is tiredand wants to rest. What remains is sure that it’s true, so you believe it.That’s all that’s important.

If you’reJim McNulty, you think about all of this and more as you fade in and out ofconsciousness while surrounded by evil men in the back of a van.

* * *

The Steele’sfront door swung open with a twist of the knob and a little push. It had beenunlocked. Something stank like dead fish. The floor was slippery and the mens’shoes squeaked. No one inside seemed to notice.

A bundle ofblankets on the couch cloaked the target. The two men crept further into thehouse and peered around the corner down the hallway. A muzzle flash erupted andthe first man’s head rocked back in a spray of red drizzle. Someone hadnoticed.

The deadman’s partner fell back, dodging the crumpling body, and fired a few roundsdown the hallway to cover. The surviving gunman climbed back to his feet andangled to get a shot down the hall.

“Lady, Iwon’t hurt you if you just gimme the kid.” He was lying, but he thought it wasworth a shot. Another round exploded into his dead partner’s head splatteringsplinters of brain and blood droplets across his mask. He had his answer.

The manlifted his gun and held it in front of him as trained. His finger rested on thetrigger, ready to kill. But then a curious thing happened. His hand disappearedin a blur. He wasn’t sure what happened at first. The gun was in his hand,aimed to kill the mom so he could take the kid, but then it wasn’t thereanymore—just the back half of his forearm and a collecting pool of redunderneath his feet. Pain hit him at about the same time he realized that hishand had just been chopped off above the wrist.

He screamed.But it didn’t feel like him. It seemed more like someone else’s arm had droppedto the rug. And it seemed like it was someone else who saw the bloody, grayshape step out in front of him with a long scythe extended from its arm.

Yes, a scythe.

The kid.

He wasawake. He snarled like a demented Rottweiler. The kid’s arm moved up and downbefore the man in black could react. Blackness stole him away the moment thelong blade cleaved his heart in two. He was dead and matters of perspective nolonger mattered to him.

The grayshape slumped to the ground and fell into his own world of blackness.

* * *

Eric didn’tdream that night.

* * *

Days passed.Eric healed. He didn’t talk much—he didn’t want to so his parents left himalone. They didn’t insist upon long talks about his feelings. What could hesay? What shouldhe say? Thefirst fight Eric ever had in his life was with his best friend. They tried tokill each other. How do you talk about that? You don’t.

Long,gnarled scars faded to dim lines and soon disappeared. His parents told him hecould stay home from school—that he probably should—but Eric went. Scars andall. This was his life and he wouldn’t just give it up. He told peoplethat he’d been in a car accident. The questions faded just as his scars did. Inabout five days, his scars were down to slight, pinkish trails on his skin. Andby the following weekend, his scars were all but gone. No one seemed to noticehow fast he had healed. Not all of the scars healed, though.

There was ascar deep inside that wouldn’t ever heal. Eric felt like there was broken glassin his chest. It jabbed him wherever he went and kept him awake at night. Theshards of jabbing pain were made up of every blow, every punch, and every throwof that night. This pain would never diminish. Eric’s grief graduallyturned to anger at everything associated with what had happened to Jim.Something changed him. He was a monster now. There wasn’t a standard emotionavailable to reconcile that knowledge. It didn’t seem to fit into a category ofsadness or fury—it was both and neither.

Eric hadn’tfelt anything from The Source in a while either. No darkness. No danger. And nodraw toward something he didn’t understand. He felt like himself. He felt theway he used to feel before he’d been burned alive from the inside out. But hedidn’t talk about it. His dad might have suspected but said nothing. There wasan abundance of “saying nothing” in the Steele household.

Eric didn’tsay much until he saw Rose.

* * *

Time movedslow since the fight. Eric felt like a year had passed since his best friendhad tried to kill him when it had only been a week. His memories of that nightwere becoming dim. Eric supposed that his mind was trying to protect him bysuppressing the bad ones. They weren’t gone; they were just under the surface.

The drive toRose’s house was quiet. Usually, Eric would listen to a CD or the radio whilehe drove, but this time he drove in silence. The car noise soothed him.Everything disappeared in the thrum of the highway. For the briefest ofmoments, he thought he might keep driving. Just leave. Just go. He was made ofmetal. Gold is a metal. He could survive on it. Leave everything behind andstop caring.

No.

He took theexit to Rose’s house and abandoned those thoughts with his memories of Jim,gnarled and monstrous.

* * *

Rose wasstill beautiful. Her eyes were a little darker and her hair was less fine—moretousled—but she was stunning. Her spirit was alive. Rose wore a pair ofsweatpants and a tee shirt with a picture of Mr. Feeney from Boy Meets World.The clothes weren’t curve hugging like what she wore on their date, but Ericknew the curves were there. Despite everything that had happened, he still feltdrawn to Rose’s light.

“Hi.” Ericcouldn’t think of anything else to say.

“You lookbetter,” Rose said.

He smiled,which hurt his face. “I heal pretty fast. Apparently, I have a lot of mineralsand vitamins inside.”

Rose steppedback from the doorframe, her invitation implicit. Eric crossed in front of herand caught a whiff of something flowery.

Does she ever smell bad?

“Thanks,”Eric said. He slipped his coat off and held it in his hand. “Look, I camebecause I didn’t get to say goodbye the other night. And to apologize… I laid alot on you at dinner and… what happened after was...”

“Unbelievable?Crazy?”

“I hope youcan understand why I didn’t tell you. I don’t really understand it myself and Ithought it would be dangerous for you to know. I think I was probably right.”Eric wanted to look at her but couldn’t. Her eyes were too demanding—toohonest. The fact that she hadn’t thrown him out or shut the door in his faceseemed to suggest that she felt something genuine for him, but whatever it was,it was tenuous and he saw it on her face. He wanted to keep it alive.

There wasonly one way to do that. He decided to do something a teenage boy would neverdo: be completely honest with a girl about his feelings. “You know, I feelsomething I haven’t felt in a long time. I know this sounds like high schoolmelodrama, but I didn’t think I could feel this way. It’s not the same asbefore… it’s better. I want it to keep going. I can’t know what this soundslike to you… only a few days ago you saw me getting smashed into brick walls.But this is how I feel. Of everything that’s happened to me lately, this is theonly thing I feel for sure. The only thing I know.”

The thinsheen of water hugging Rose’s eyes told him everything he needed to know. Shemoved to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders and squeezed. Erichugged her and every ache and pain in his body faded away.

“What doesthis mean?” Rose said, barely a whisper.

“I dunno. Ijust want to be with you. You make me feel good.”

She chuckled.“So that’s what that is…”

* * *

Whiledriving home, Eric took the I-395 north ramp instead of south. He didn’tnotice. He just drove. Soon he was in Washington, D.C. The city swallowed himup. The buildings cast large shadows and guided his way. Eric kept driving.There were other cars and people, but Eric didn’t notice them. He just keptgoing. Eventually, he parked along the curb. His was the only car on thisparticular block, but he didn’t notice that either.

It wasn’tuntil Eric was walking down the hazy alley that he realized where he was.

What?

He stoppedin his tracks, disoriented, and examined his surroundings. The alley wassurprisingly clean—for an alley. Dumpsters dotted along each side, runningagainst the buildings. A few slips of paper, wrappers, and other garbage sweptacross the ground past him. There was no one in sight. The lights in the alleywere dim ochre and provided little illumination. The sky above was also of nohelp, offering only pure black. Even the moon hid tonight.

That’s whenhe felt the curious pit in his stomach like anxiety but pervasive. Darkness.It had drawn him here. But why?

“Why?”A voice. Definitely real. Not in his head. It was in front of him—but there wasnothing there until a shape stepped out of the shadow beneath the nearest lightfixture. It was a man, but Eric couldn’t make out anything beyond that. He wastallish but not terribly broad. Although the figure was in sight, he was stillbathed in shadow. But Eric felt his stare and something disconcerting occurredto him: not human.

“Who areyou?”

“That’s not as important as who you are. Do youknow?” There was somethingthreatening in the tone.

“Uh-huh...now back to my question.”

A laugh.Very throaty and thick—if a laugh could have thickness. “I’m a demon. What are you going to do about it, Titan?”

Ericclenched his fists but didn’t know it. He felt the power stir inside. WhateverTitan was, it had instincts of its own. Just the word “demon” set him on alert.He knew that Titan fights demons, but he had never met one…

Whyshould just the mention of a demon put me on edge? Maybe my Catholicupbringing?

“It’s who you are,” the demon said, having heard Eric’s thoughts asclearly as words. “Fish swim. Monkeysclimb. Dogs sniff assholes. And you fight evil. You killit wherever youreplace it.”

Eric shookhis head as though he could shake the demon out of his thoughts. “How do youknow what I’m thinking? If I kill demons, why would you come to me?”

Finally, thedemon stepped from the shadows. It was bald with skin that wasn’t quite skin,something akin to dried-out cactus hide. Its eyes were set deep in its skulland glimmered like a cat’s eyes, but they were not green or yellow, no, theseeyes were red. They looked into Eric. He could feel it.

The demonstepped closer—its every move was deliberate and dangerous. It wore clothesthat Eric would have imagined on a cool 1970s pimp: a double-breasted mahoganyleather jacket with dark slacks or jeans and stylish shoes. Its face wassomething like a piranha crossed with a lizard—a mouthful of tiny, sharp teethgleamed out from behind its thin lips. Its mouth was a perpetual smile.

Eric heldhis ground. “Don’t come closer.”

The demon’ssmile grew into a demented, sharp-toothed grin. “Or what? What will you do, hero? Huh? Do you even know? Can you kill?”

Eric wasblinded by the sight of the man with the gun in his living room—his arm on theground, twitching, and then the man split right down the middle. Eric did that.The haze in his mind lifted so he could see it with clarity. Eric’s sure tonewas lost as the memory repeated again and again…

“I alreadyhave.”

The creaturedismissed Eric with a croak, its cruel eyes narrowing. “Instinct in a moment of panic. It wasn’t you; it was the thing insideyou that wears your skin as its suit. It’s hardwired to protect you. That only goes so far. Can you kill?”

Eric knewthe demon was right. He had done it, but he didn’t remember meaning to kill theman. He never thought: You sonofabitch, I’m gonna kill you dead. Incourt, the distinction would hardly matter, but he wasn’t in court. This was adark alley with bad lighting and a demon for his judge.

Ericcouldn’t answer the demon’s question. When Jim had been beating him to deathand Eric was looking at a kill-or-be-killed situation, he still didn’t knowwhat to do. Jim was his friend… still… No. Eric refused to thinkof him as anything else. Jim didn’t choose to become a monster—it was done tohim.

“Does it matter?” The demon began to circle Eric. It had heardhis thoughts again. “Whether or not he’syour friend, he tried to kill you. Obviously, he doesn’t hold you in such highregard. He was going to kill you, your girlfriend, and everyone else to getwhat he wanted.”

“He tried tohelp me…” Eric said. “He called and tried to warn us, but they got him. Theybrainwashed him.”

“Did it ever occur to you that they gave him abetter offer? Hmm? Maybe he weighed the pros and cons of being Eric Steele’sfriend and decided that what they offered was better. Who can say why we makethe choices we do? What you need to know is that he made a choice… a bad onefor you… and why he did it isn’t important. If a man tries to rape a woman, doyou stop and ask him why he’s doing it? No. You draw upon that medieval arsenaland stop him.” The demoncontinued to circle Eric not unlike a predator.

“How do youknow all of this? You’re just a demon,” Eric said.

It glared atEric through eyes like blood, glittering in the sickly yellow light. “Just a demon… yes, just a demon. I knowwhat I know because I need to. Just like you’re Titan because you need to be.It’s important that Titan exists. Especially now. Your sister was a cripple andsheknew that. Just like I know that you’re too weak. Too conflicted todo what you need to do. Too in love to see the danger right around the corner.”

The demonlunged. Eric had been lulled by the casual conversation that he didn’t see itcoming. A maw of teeth rushed at his face. Eric caught him but was driven downonto the pavement. The demon, as skinny and lithe as it was, had real weight toit and Eric was using a lot of his strength to just keep it at arm’s length.Its snapping teeth glittered at him from only inches away.

“Don’t you get it, yet?! Huh, boy? I’m not yourfriend! I’m a message from on high: you need to get your shit together!Evil’s coming. You’re not here to play Dawson’s Creek with the cuteredhead… you’re here to be God’s instrument on Earth. His warrior against evillike me!” Delight waswritten all over the demon’s face as Eric struggled to hold him back. “C’mon, HERO! Man up!”

Ericsearched deep inside himself and found what he was looking for. Just like hisdad had said, it gets easier every time. Raw strength pumped into his musclesand lined his bones with steel. He let the demon get close just as the masksealed over his face and hardened. The demon’s teeth shattered as they bit hardmetal. It recoiled with an awful howl. Eric planted both his feet against thecreature’s chest and as it rose up, Eric launched it back. Then he climbed tohis feet and he was wearing Titan.

The demonslithered to its feet and wiped its clawed hand across its mouth. The hand cameaway dripping with blood. Despite obvious pain, the demon smiled revealing thejagged remains of its teeth and pieces of torn gums. It spat a big wad of bloodand saliva onto the pavement. “You fightdirty, kid… that’s good. You’ll need to.” It moved again, this time withmurder in its terrible eyes.

“Stay whereyou are or I’ll kill you.”

“Let’s replace out.”

The demonran at Eric. Its hands were cocked, ready to stab with impossibly long andsharp claws. Eric’s arm snapped to the side and a long rod of metal extendedfrom his grasp and coalesced into a sword. He cocked it back and met the demonwith its point. A loud shhhlacckk ripped through the demon’s body as thesword stabbed clean through it. A roar escaped the monster’s lips as it threwits head back and mewled with death.

The demongrabbed Eric’s shoulder and pulled itself closer, impaling itself deeper.Thick, viscous blood dribbled from between its broken teeth, yet the demonstill wore its knowing smile. Its face was only inches away, but this time itmade no move to bite.

“How does it feel? Hmm? Do you feel my lifedraining out of me? It’s all over your hands… you should. Look me in the eye,boy. Do you see it? Look close and know it well.”

Eric didn’twant to, but he realized that was the point: he needed to see it. He needed towatch this monster die. He had to feel it shudder and shake. He had to feel itsbreath quicken and then sputter out.

Before thedemon’s life spilled out of it, it whispered. “Who are you? Eric Steele or Titan?”

The demondied on the point of Eric’s sword. Eric retracted the blade into himself andthe demon slumped to the ground. The mask slipped from his face and Eric lookedup at the sky. It wasn’t black any longer; the moon shone down at him, queerand orange.

He knew theanswer to the demon’s question. He didn’t like it.

* * *

Tim Steelefilled the bucket with warm water for what seemed like the hundredth time. Hewatched the suds froth on the water’s surface around the column of waterpouring from the faucet. Watching the water almost helped him forget what hewas doing. Almost. When he reached for a new rag and saw all of the others, hewas silently reminded.

Nancy was onall fours beside the large dark red stain next to the entertainment center. Shescrubbed at the stain with a lot of elbow grease, but it only lightened a bit.Looking up at Tim, she said, “I think we’re gonna need a new rug. This isn’tcoming out.”

Tim knelt beside her. “Probably.”

“Do I wantto know where the bodies went?” Nancy looked at Tim, but he didn’t look back.

“No.”

Tim dug intothe carpet. The fresh soap and water mix was working a little better, but Nancywas right—the stain was too deep, too dark, and too in the open. The rug had togo.

Nancy staredat Tim. “We have to go, don’t we?”

Tim finallylooked at her, his face a mask of steel. “We ran once. They found us. We’re notrunning again.”

“Timmy,these people break into people’s houses and set kids on fire! They’re not abovetorturing and experimenting on people… Jim… Sarah…” Nancy almost chokedon her daughter’s name, but she held it together.

Tim couldn’tlook at her and say what needed to be said. “That’s why we have to kill them.Every last one of them. If they’re not alive, they can’t come after us.”

Nancy choseher words with care. “Did that work last time? Sarah was still sick and whathappened to you? Is that what Eric’s supposed to do now? Pick up where you leftoff?”

Too many badchoices had led them here. Tim didn’t know anymore, but the only way to changeit was to start making good ones. At the very least, better choices.

Almost as ifon cue, the front door opened and Eric appeared. “It’s time, Dad.”

Tim climbedto his feet. There was something unspoken between them. Eric looked like he wascarrying something new on his shoulders. As a mother, Nancy could always seechanges in her child, even if she didn’t understand what they were. Everyinstinct she had told her the change was grave. It was a burden from which he wouldnever escape.

Eric keptthe door open. Calvin, the cat, tried sneaking by, but with a glance from Eriche darted back the way he came. Tim circled around Nancy and grabbed his keys.

She calledafter them, “Where are you going? Time for what?”

“Time to bewho I’m supposed to be,” Eric said with resignation. He exited the house. Timmet Nancy’s eyes before he left the house too.

Nancy wasalone with the blood.