TITAN
Heroes and Villains

No onechanges. Some people replace new clothes, bigger homes, and many cars. They mighttake trips and they might surround themselves with expensive things. But deepdown, they’re still who they are. They only change what others see. No one getsto see what’s inside. Not really. Sometimes a flash of light or darkflickers out from inside a person, but no one gets the full view.

No onechanges. What really happens is more meaningful. Most folks don’t know who theyreally are. What others see as change is really realization of who youalways were. Change isn’t really becoming something different but understandingand embracing what you are.

Many peoplehave come to these realizations throughout history. The really bombastic onesare well known—Hitler, Stalin, etc. Those men not only discovered what theywere, but they also picked their moment in history. Their legacies of evil willbe remembered forever.

But not allare bad. Jesus, Gandhi, and many others discovered who they were and sharedgoodness with the world to save it or bring it enlightenment. They, too, willbe remembered for all time. But those are the big guys, the worldchangers—literally God in the case of Jesus. He drank from the cup that came toHis lips. Everyone has that potential, too; to know who they are and take upthat mantle. Unfortunately, some refuse to know who they really are and insteadsimply exist through life. They are more pitiable than Jesus, theworld’s greatest martyr. Sure, He suffered terribly, but damn if He didn’t knowHis purpose. And you’ll replace that most people prefer to know important thingslike that, even if the news is bad.

No onechanges. Realization is not always a good thing, though. For every MotherTheresa there is a Jeffrey Dahmer. For every Abraham Lincoln there is a JohnWilkes Booth. And for every Eric Steele there is a Jim McNulty. You see,sometimes good, decent people live their lives and come to realize that theircup to claim is not one of heroism but one of villainy. In the case of JimMcNulty, his cup is one of manipulation and desperation. He drank.

No onechanges. Eric and Jim were realizing who they really were in very differentways.

* * *

Jim wasalmost gone. Inside, the rooms were empty, the paint was stripped, and thelights were burned out. What remained of his self, his “belongings,” was boxedin the basement, sealed and in the dark. Only one window remained open and itlooked out over the frail form of his little sister. If it was possible to loseone’s humanity—and Jim seemed to be proof that it was—it was also possible toreplace ways to hold onto it. Sometimes the only way to do that is through otherpeople. Beth McNulty was all the humanity that Jim had left.

Since theOld Town fight, Jim wasn’t allowed in the room with Beth, so he watched herthrough glass and tried to avoid the reflection that stared back at him. Itwasn’t human. It was the face of a monster. The rest of him was monstrous now,too.

His skinwasn’t entirely gone yet. But the patches that remained were dour and sick andstuck to his new bony exterior like loose wallpaper. Fortunately, his organsweren’t spilling out of him as his skin dwindled to nothing—his bones were growingaround him like a suit of horrific armor. The process wasn’t complete yet—so hehad been told—but if skeletons could be ripped, then Jim was 1980s ArnoldSchwarzenegger.

Rock-hardbone plates developed around his pecs. His ribs interlocked like teeth, holdinghis organs in place. His arms were wrapped in scale-like bone fragments thathad erupted through his arms and curled into place. His legs were similarlyarmored but with a gnarled kneecap on each leg. Jim’s head was a living,breathing skull without flesh. His gums had dissolved out of his mouth. Hishair had fallen out, followed by the peeling of his skull. His face had rippedopen in the fight with Eric, so it had flopped off first. His eyes were intactand so was his tongue to an extent. Though, his voice was now little more thana gravelly rasp.

Through thewhole maddening process, Jim’s heart continued to beat, his blood continued topump, and he felt pain. Oh yes, Jim’s nerves were quite alive. Histransformation had been an exercise in sadism. But the pain was diminishing andhe was gaining some perspective.

First off,Eric had to die. That was clear, if only for being a little bitch in theirfight. Eric had fought for a draw, not a win. Whether or not he wanted to admitit, Jim wished Eric had killed him. Then it would be over. Of course, had thathappened, Beth would likely have been killed and Eric would still get to live.And neither one of those scenarios was particularly enjoyable.

Second, itwas becoming evident that the Shadow Man reported to someone. That superior,whoever it was, probably didn’t know much about what the Shadow Man had beendoing. It would explain a lot. For instance, as well armed as these guys were,why take the time to turn him into a freak and sick him on Eric when theycould’ve just stormed Eric’s house? Low profile, that’s why. These guys weresupposed to be under the radar. Jim got the feeling that the fight in Old Townhad gotten the Shadow Man in some trouble. After all, it was a public streetfight between two freaks that smashed storefronts, windows, and walls. Iflaying low was the idea, then letting Jim loose was a bad idea.

Jim wasn’tjust clever enough to figure this stuff out, though. He had also overheardthings. Some of the Shadow Man’s men had been talking and Jim heard them eventhough his ears had melted off. They were worried and they were going to stayunderground for a while. The fight in Old Town had brought all kinds ofattention and someone was now looking into the Shadow Man’s business. Even moresuspicious, the Shadow Man had been AWOL since the fight. Jim had seen the guyevery day for months and all of a sudden he’s missing for a week? No, it didn’tmake sense, unless some ass-kickings were handed out. Jim’s skin might havebeen melting off, but his mind was still sharp.

However,despite how much everything seemed to have quieted down, Jim had been noticinga buildup of sorts. Some of the nameless thugs were carrying around a lot ofequipment—guns, body armor, black suits and tuxedoes, and other assortedequipment. They were preparing for something. And if they were preparing forsomething, then Jim was going to be in play again. He wasn’t limited byweakness any longer, he had become the monster they intended him to be.

Jim wouldkill Eric when they met next. As he stared at Beth through the glass, Jimconsidered all the ways he was going to kill his captors once he presented themwith Eric’s body. He didn’t know how he would kill the Shadow Man just yet, buthe knew he’d save him for last.

* * *

All of theyears of waiting were very vivid in the Shadow Man’s mind. None as clear as themoment it had all been taken from him—his future, his promise. With a singlestroke, his entire life had changed inasmuch as the Shadow Man was now justlike all the others destroyed by Titan.

What a namethat was… Titan… It evoked heroism and strength. In ancient mythology, Titansheld the sky on their shoulders. They were gods that towered over men. Butreally, this Titan was nothing more than a man and barely that. But hewas human. And the best thing about humans is that you can kill them. Yes, thatwas the best thing about humans the Shadow Man could think of.

The ShadowMan knew that when the beast, Bone, looked at him, he saw an evil man. Itoccurred to the Shadow Man that he didn’t really care what the toolthought. And that’s what Jim McNulty was—a tool. Something used in pursuit of agreater end. That end was no secret. At least not to him—it never was. TheShadow Man would have his revenge. His relationship with Titan had never beenrevealed to anyone, especially not his superiors. But he knew and that’s all hereally cared about anyway. He kept the knowledge—filled with pain andanger—balled up deep inside. He nurtured it and watched it grow over the long yearsand saw it blossom into rage, which consumed him whole.

Astantalizing as revenge was, it was not the Shadow Man’s only goal. It couldn’tbe. None of the people he had reported to would have allowed him to remain withthe program if they had known the truth. Now, those “people” were down to onetwo-star general who would like nothing better than to rid himself of theColonel and his secret team. His efforts demanded money, support, and time—noneof which the military had in plentiful quantities these days. This was theShadow Man’s last chance for justice and his last shot to redeem his career.

Titan wasgreat power from God, if the stories were true—and who better to wield thatpower than the United States military? The possibilities were endless: adaptivebody armor, weapons that could rebuild themselves if destroyed, and physicalenhancements to make soldiers faster, quicker, and more resilient. Though,admittedly, the physical enhancements needed some work.

Jim McNultywas a failure as far as the military was concerned. He was armored withrock-hard bone and he was incredibly strong, but he was hideous—a livingskeleton, stripped of humanity. Jim was the final test; the final proof thatwithout Titan they could not duplicate what made him so powerful. Who wouldvolunteer for that program? Obviously, if the military wanted you, they’d getyou, but the objective of physical enhancements like the ones that ultimatelyfailed on Jim and so many others was to use them on all of the troops.Super-strong, bullet-proof soldiers that could jump on legs like springs andrun on legs like pistons. Hell, if they could work out how to produce weaponryfrom their limbs like Titan could, all the better. “Army of one,” indeed.

The ShadowMan’s superiors lacked vision. The military liked things fast, on point, anddone well. Hunting down Titan’s progenitors had not been any of those things.And now it was drawing attention. The Shadow Man had always planned to unleashJim on the public. He had to justify releasing Jim by explaining that Titan’spowers had developed faster than had been anticipated—that only Jim would be amatch for Titan. Really though, they needed to test Jim in the field to see howhe would stand up. He had performed better under duress and physical strainthan the others. Jim also seemed to be getting stronger as his exteriordeteriorated.

Ultimately,however, the psychological effect of kidnapping Eric Steele’s best friend wasdisappointing. Using Eric’s best friend was supposed to be a backup plan in andof itself—if Bone couldn’t pummel him outright, it might make Titan doubthimself and pull his punches. Titan did pull his punches, but Bone wasn’t quiteready. Next time he would be.

Jim was anecessary evil. The Colonel’s men were losers and has-beens. They had failed atthe hospital. They had failed at the Steele’s house. And they could barely holdon to Jim. The Colonel couldn’t trust them to get the job done and with so muchhanging in the balance, he would do whatever he had to. His whole life had beenbuilding toward this since he was an infant. If torturing Eric’s spirit byturning his best friend into a monster brought the Steeles even the slightestagony, it was worth it.

The generalhad told the Shadow Man that he had one month to acquire Titan. One month andit was over. The cost-benefit analyses showed no benefit—just more moneypoured down a bottomless hole in the name of Titan. Jim’s terrible appearancewasn’t much help either. The whole reason for capturing the power of Titan wasto utilize it as a weapon, but not if soldiers using it turned into monsters.Milking samples from twenty years ago created freaks like Bone. They needed theoriginal.

Onemonth… ridiculous.

All theseyears preparing for Titan’s reemergence and it had come down to a month. If ithadn’t been for 9/11, maybe he would have had more time. But with the militarycommitted in so many overseas hot zones, funds were tight. Special projectswere few and far between. The “ancient superhero division” was not high on thepriority list.

In a month,the Shadow Man would either have Titan or he wouldn’t. He would be finishedwithout Titan. He hadn’t practiced medicine in a long time and his expertiseotherwise was limited. Unfortunately, knowledge in supernatural weaponry andancient legends was not a hot commodity in the War on Terror.

With solittle time left, Jim needed to be ready. They all did. Because if the ShadowMan could not have Titan, then Titan would just have to die and so would hisparents, though he hadn’t decided in what order yet. There was still time topull this off.

One month.

* * *

It hadn’t been real for Eric untilthe fight. Even when he was scorched from the inside out and felt like he wasgoing to die, it wasn’t real. What did being Titan really mean? In fact, it seemedpretty cool for a while. He had superpowers! When he learned what his abilitieswere, he tried to shoot metal cabling out of his wrists like Spider-Man and hetried to pick up a car. But the games ended when he saw Jim. His friend was amutant monster made of the same stuff that made him superhuman. Jim tried tokill him because other people wanted Titan and they were going to do anythingto get it. They once mutilated an innocent baby girl and crippled her for therest of her life just to get their hands on it.

When Ericrecovered and met a not-so-friendly demon, something changed. The joke wasover. It was time to get real. This wasn’t going to end until he ended it. Hefelt like he was being led by events, by destiny, by other people—he needed to takecharge and make some moves of his own.

But hewasn’t ready.

That’s whathis dad was for. Tim Steele was the only one left who knew what Titan was,other than the monsters trying to take it. Eric felt like he had power and areason to use it, but he had no idea where to begin. Jim and the people thattook him were missing—though, he couldn’t understand how a giant skeleton mancould just disappear without a trace. How could he replace them? Eric was not adetective. He was no hero. In his dreams, maybe.

Tim Steelehad been Titan for years, raised and trained by Arthur Steele who had beenTitan for a good deal longer. Eric needed that training, but he was yearsbehind. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do or how to do it. He knew timewas running out and he needed to be ready. The book was important, too, butEric make it work for him. Or maybe he just didn’t understand what it said.

For weeks—inthe evenings after school, on weekends, and sometimes in the middle of thenight—Eric and Tim went out and trained. They left the empty field behind andwent into D.C. and looked for trouble. Tim was not specific about whatkind of trouble they sought, only that they’d know it when they found it. Thefirst few times they didn’t replace anything. They drove in silence and Ericlooked to his dad for some kind of sign. He just drove.

Every nowand again, they happened upon a mugging or a fight. Eric transformed into Titanand broke things up. One thief who had just struck a man on the back of thehead and stolen his wallet shot at Eric. When the bullet ricocheted off histitanium shoulder plating, the man backed away and stumbled into a bunch oftrash cans. Eric bound the criminal’s hands with crude hand cuffs and left himon the street with a disposable cell phone dangling from his neck dialed to“911.”

Eric startedto think that his dad was testing him. He didn’t talk much on these drives, butTim seemed to sense something and looked to Eric to see if he was picking it uptoo. The fight with the demon in the alley had scared him. He had been ledbeyond his control and it was a frightening to lose himself in the tunnelvision of the Source. Maybe Eric was holding back. He worried about where his“senses” would deliver him next. There was a raging river flowing through hisheart and he feared that if he stepped into it, it would sweep him away.

Tim stoppedpulled to the curb in front of the National Air and Space Museum. The eveningsun was gone from the sky, but a pink hue clung to the horizon. Short buildingscast long shadows.

“Why’d youstop?” Eric asked.

“You’rebeing lead instead of leading,” Tim said.

“What doesthat even mean?”

“It’s notyour fault. You didn’t learn this stuff as you grew up like I did,” Tim shiftedto face Eric.

“Kind oflike when Yoda told Luke he was ‘too old.’”

“So I’m thegreen dwarf Muppet in your analogy?”

“You can beObi-Wan if you want.”

“You’reletting yourself be dragged by the current. You’re not swimming,” Tim said.“That ‘sense’ you feel is from God. He’s telling you what to do. All of thetime. Everywhere you go. Like intuition or conscience. But He’s mysterious. Goddoesn’t say go kill that monster over there. He’s given you a compass, but youhave to replace north.”

Ericbelieved that this power came from God, but not the same way that his dad did.Eric thought that God had put things in motion and let people sort the rest outwhile Tim seemed to think that God made things happen. At least, he was tryinghard to impart that. Eric didn’t think it was that simple. Free will wasn’tworth a damn if God was involved in day-to-day life—God gave us the resourcesto choose. Of course, maybe there was no free will. Eric didn’t choose this.Sarah certainly didn’t.

Ruminatingideological differences with his father dried up. A chill ran up his spine likethe last time he had looked into his “sense.” Overwhelming dread filled him. Hebelieved that his “sense” was like looking into death and darkness. Or it wassomething close to that. And Tim was telling him to look again.

Tim put hishand on Eric’s shoulder. “There are others in that dark…”

Could hehear what I was thinking?

“God’s notthe only thing in there,” Tim’s face was calm, but his eyes betrayed him. He knewwhat Eric was talking about. Tim blinked and the shadow of remembrance wasgone. “The Source can help you replace the other things out there. You start toknow them.”

“I don’tknow what you mean.”

“It’s onething to understand that people steal and kill. It’s another thing to seeit in them. You’ll begin to know that, too. That’s why I stopped the car. Yousense them here.”

“I didn’tsee anything. You were driving,” Eric shook his head.

“Eric, I haven’tbeen driving around the city at random. You’re guiding me.”

“Moremuggers?”

“They’rebad, but seeing them is just scratching the surface. You’ve got to go deeper.Titan has to let himself know evil.” Tim paused a few beats too many. Eric’ssenses, as a son, told him that there was something more to that. Tim finished.“To fight it.”

“I broughtus to the Mall,” Eric said. It wasn’t a quite a question. “I should seesomething here.”

“You alreadysensed them. I’m not Titan anymore, but even I can still feel them. They rattlein my bones. But I know you can feel them deeper. I can feel them through you.Being with you is like an antenna.” Tim opened the driver’s door and steppedout of the car. Eric followed. He circled around to his dad.

“If ‘they’are here, they’ll look human. But you think I can replace them.”

Tim noddedto the folks walking around the area, moving along the sandy paths, going inand out of the museums, and standing in line at the concession areas. “Youcan.”

“Alright.”Eric avoided a couple of jackasses in cars who appeared to speed up as hecrossed. He looked back at his dad who remained beside the car.

Ericremembered how he had just slipped into the sense before. But like his dadsaid, he couldn’t let it sweep him away. He would move into it and try to replacewhat he sought. People crossed alongside him, in front of him, and behind him.Some stopped forcing Eric to move around them, only slightly aware that he’dneeded to. Eric was reminded of a term he learned in drivers ed: highway hypnosis—it’swhen you’re driving, unabated, and you become hypnotized by the road yet arestill aware of it. That’s what it was like walking through the National Malllooking for them. Whoever or whatever they were.

Amidst thedark, shadowy shapes that flanked his vision both in his eyes and mind, flashesof Jim came unbidden. The sting of punches landed. Terrible skeleton featuresimpossibly alive. Eric didn’t realize it, but he winced as he walked. Theywere here. Eric still had no idea what that meant, but all the people aroundhim carried with them a kind of presence, like a cool wind—constant, withoccasional fluctuations here and there. Amidst the cool “breeze” of the peoplearound him, there was a warm current—a heavier and thicker swath of air that hedetected. It was out of place. It stank and only Eric could smell it. It gotstronger as got closer.

Eric was inthe wide-open park of the National Mall beneath the trees across from theNational History Museum. He stalked through the twisted shadows cast by thetrees and their newborn spring leaves. People crossed ahead of him, behind him,and beside him; they moved in his presence like wind through tree leaves.

The hot,thick, stifling gust was ahead of him. There was a set of beach umbrellascocked to the west. Beneath them, a few groups of kids, more or less collegeage, were kissing, talking, and doing what people do. Eric passed alongsidethem. They wereall doing what people do, but they weren’t all people.The darkness around Eric’s vision cleared and he saw the world around him likehe always had—but with enhanced visual acuity.

Eric’s veinsstirred with heat and he felt Titan well up in his muscles, in his bones, andeven behind his smile. He crossed back so he was in front of the group. Ericdidn’t know what to do or say, but that didn’t worry him like it used to.Warmth surrounded him and he wasn’t sure if that was hot metal radiatingthrough his skin or something else. He went with what felt right.

“How’s itgoin,’ Guys?”

One of the“kissing guys” rolled over from the sloppy kisses of his lady friend andglanced up at Eric. He was tall, but not broad, with shoulder-length, stickybrown hair. Simply sitting, he was about three-quarters as tall as Eric. “Youneed something?”

Kissing Guywas one of them. Eric wasn’t sure how he knew, but he did. Instead of fear orworry, Eric felt excitement. The feeling was old, innate, like instinct; it wasa feeling he had never experienced but somehow remembered. “Yeah, actually.Uuumm, I’m gonna need you and...” Glancing over the rest of the group, Ericpicked out the others. He knew. His eyes had adjusted, so to speak.“...him, him, and her to go hang out somewhere else.” The three others Eric hadpointed out shifted into seated positions as well, with queer amusement ontheir faces.

Kissing Guyclimbed onto his long legs and looked down at Eric, who didn’t budge. The mangrinned like a surfer, happy but with nothing behind it. “And why would we…”Kissing Guy paused. His fake, L.A. smile faded into something akin to agrimace. Kissing Guy knew too. He sampled the air like a cat who sensessomething no one else does. Whatever this guy was, he knew what Eric was, too.Maybe not exactly but enough to know he was a threat.

“It’s beenawhile since we ran into anyone like you.” Kissing Guy held his ground.

Eric wasinterested in that remark—“anyone like you.” There were others?

Eric’s firstimpulse was to clear out the kids who weren’t one of them. He motioned to theother kids lying on the grass, who were perplexed by what was happening. “Youguys oughta leave.”

Kissing Guyturned back to them. “Nah, stick around. This won’t take long.”

It didn’t.Kissing Guy’s head was off his shoulders and exploding over the grass inburning embers within fifteen seconds.

* * *

It happenedfast. Kissing Guy threw a punch at Eric. Using quickness that was still new andunwieldy, Eric pulled his head back. The punch missed, but Eric could feel theknuckles pass just in front of his face. It wasn’t so much speed as it was Ericanticipating his attacker’s motion building up. Speed would come later.

That’s whenKissing Guy and his brethren revealed their true faces. Quite literally. Asound like cracking twigs and meat ripping accompanied their transformations.Each of their faces expanded at the forehead, revealing a long bone acrosstheir brow, and their mouths grew wider unveiling large canine teeth. Eric’sfirst thought was silly: Cavemen! But then he saw the teeth—long viciouscanines beneath yellow, piercing eyes.

Vampires.

Actual vampires.

Kissing Guycame at Eric again. Eric lowered his head and when it came back up, he revealedhis true face. Titan swam from his veins and slathered over him in awash of heat and strength. Eric’s arm snapped to his side and unleashed ascythe’s blade from his forearm, which extended a foot and a half beyond hishand. In this case, Kissing Guy’s best weapon, his snapping teeth, was hisbiggest weakness. When he lunged forward with his neck stretched out, Ericcleaved through it. His body dropped and his head rolled across the grasstowards his friends. The decapitated body shriveled into itself, burning inwardlike a leaf put to flame. The head did much the same, but it flickered andflashed with heat and coals of fire like an immolating pumpkin.

The guests whohadn’t heeded Eric’s “suggestion” to leave screamed and scrambled over thebeach umbrellas to clear the scene. The umbrellas weren’t necessary any longeranyway. The setting sun disappeared behind the Washington Monument, casting along column of shadow over the Mall where sun-allergic citizens could safelycongregate.

Otherpatrons of the National Mall saw the exploding body and either fled or tried tocatch the fight on their camera phones. Others who didn’t see anything, but sawscreaming masses flee followed suit and on it went. Park police and HomelandSecurity officials were swept up in the panic and drawn away from the scene.Fortunately, it worked in Eric’s favor to shield his identity so that no onewould remember the short, average-looking white kid that had been at the centerof it all.

For now,though, he was faced with three pissed off vampires dressed like hippies. Thepart of his brain that was still enthralled by the fantastic nature of what hewas, let alone the other fantastical things of the world, was momentarily inawe. He watched ­Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel religiously.But that faded fast as all three vampires attacked at once. Fists and feet camefrom all sides and Eric received the initial onslaught without a ready response.As it happened, it occurred to Eric that these vampires could have been alivefor hundreds of years and fought together for just as long. He had been Titanfor a little over a month.

Eric wasn’ta fighter by nature and in the panic of the moment, he unleashed the only thinghe knew he had—raw strength. As the vampires swarmed over the top of him, heexploded upward throwing them off. It worked; though the vampires were strongtoo. It gave him a space of seconds to formulate a defense. The girl recoveredfirst and caught him in the stomach with a damn good shot; Eric suspected shehad been aiming lower. He brought his arm across, meaning to take her head offlike Kissing Guy, but she ducked. Just not low enough. The blade sliced theside of her head, taking off a mane of hair and her ear. She shrieked andwobbled to the side. Her two buddies then came at Eric, one from the front andone from the back. Eric anticipated both and charged backward, lowering historso and flipping his aft attacker over the top of his body. The vampattacking from the front clobbered into his buddy and they collapsed into atangle together.

The femalevamp was royally pissed. Streamers of blood and hair whipped off the side ofher head and there was more than murder in her eyes. With blind rage, she camestraight ahead. Eric sliced her across the chest—sideways, up, and down. Across. She roiled with pain, rage, and globs of blood, reeling back to thegrass.

Her twofriends regained themselves and charged at Eric again. Eric ducked under thefirst punch but ducked right into a kick that sent him back in a flash of pain.He was more surprised than anything. His armor seemed to harden in anticipationof hits and lessened the impacts. Flat on his back, he drilled the first vampto arrive right in its ancient balls. That hurt vampires too apparently. Goodto know.

The othervamp sidestepped Eric’s kick and came at his side, meaning to pin him. Anothershape entered Eric’s blind spot and swung something like a tire iron into thevamp’s face. The loud crack sickened him and he thought the vampire’s skullcracked. It landed on the grass hard. Tim appeared over Eric.

“Cops arecoming. We gotta go,” Tim said.

“How do Ikill them?” Eric climbed back to his feet.

“You’rekidding, right? All that TV you watch and you don’t know?!”

The vampwhose balls Eric kicked came at them. Eric dropped him with one swing, thenturned to his dad. “I’m not made of wood.”

“Silver,”Tim said.

“That’swerewolves.”

“Andvampires, too.”

“How do Imake silver? I can pick?” Eric asked as the vamp he just punched recovered andtackled him.

The momentbecame confused in a mish-mash of grass, sweat, terrible breath, and policesirens. Eric rose and forged a sharp spike extending from his palm. He jammedit deep into his attacker’s chest right between his pecs, generally where heknew the heart to be. The vampire gasped and then went into a rage, biting andclawing and kicking.

“Okay… thatmust be, what, iron?” He changed something, not really understanding what orhow he was doing it, and his arm shifted color to a metallic sparkly hue. Thecolor change moved down his forearm, over his hand, and onto the spike. Now,the vamp looked worried. He threw his head back in a mask of fright, pain, andhowling. His body turned to burning ash in an ever expanding wave away from thestake. When it reached his head, his yellow eyes turned orange and popped intoballs of ochre light. The beast burned away. Streamers of flame fizzled againstEric’s suit.

The vamp Timclobbered with a tire iron was back up and after him. Tim caught the creatureby the shoulders, holding his thrashing, snapping jaw at bay. Eric leaned tothe side and flicked his wrist towards Tim. The silver spike stuck itself inthe vampire’s shoulder. Tim ripped it out of the creature’s shoulder andplunged it into its chest. The vamp exhaled ash and burst into a hazy cloud ofburning smoke. Tim kicked away, singed by the heat.

Eric gotback on his feet and met the charging female vamp head on. She was a mess ofblood and sweat. She smeared the “T” on his chest with gloppy, sticky blood.Eric pushed off on her and came across with the now silver scythe blade takingher arms clean off in a puff of ashy flame. She screamed, but not for long.Eric backhanded the blade through her neck and ended her. She shuddered to theground in a jetting, fountain of embers and crumbling ash.

Unable tostop himself, Eric looked to Tim for approval. Tim flashed a grin he couldn’thold back either. Eric was oddly reminded of playing catch with his dad andseeing a similar sign of approval. But there wasn’t time to dwell on theirpeculiar, demented bonding.

Policesirens echoed around the Mall. Eric slipped out of Titan, regaining his short,average persona. Tim grabbed his shoulder and hustled them both among thefleeing crowd. Thankfully, no one seemed to take notice—it was strictly a “keepyour head down and run” affair.

They movedwith the flow of panicked tourists and found the car. After jumping into theirseats, Tim started the engine and pulled the car into the street amid a lull inrunning bodies. They disappeared around a corner and eventually made their wayback to the highway, no one the wiser.

* * *

“...thirteenpeople were trampled. Two were transported to GW Hospital in serious condition.Other injuries consisted of bruises and cuts,” the anchorwoman explained.

“Policeand Homeland Security officials reiterated no suspicion of terrorism. However,authorities noted a ‘person of interest’ resembling one of the participants inthe Alexandria, Virginia fight from a few weeks ago was sighted butdisappeared. He is wanted for questioning as well as a large male with blondehair, six feet two or taller, with a large contusion on his face.

“In othernews, Lindsay Lohan got a stomach ache today in court...”

Rose flippedthe TV off. She ran a furtive hand through her hair and switched off herbedside lamp. Sleep was elusive.

* * *

The Colonelturned off his TV.

“The newsisn’t very reassuring this evening,” he muttered.

There weremore appearances of the “metal man” throughout the region. His anger grew.Frustration fueled it and he gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. A knock athis door distracted him from focusing on the pain.

“Yes?”

A younglieutenant entered with a manila folder. He saluted and held it, waiting forthe Colonel, who eyed him for a few moments. The Colonel wanted to kill him.Not for any particular reason, but because he could. Titan seemed so far out ofhis grasp now. He couldn’tget Titan, so killing this dumb boy mightreaffirm his power. Or maybe it would just make him feel better.

Eh.Wasted effort.

The Colonelreturned the salute. “What?”

“We obtainedthe information. The event’s at the Hotel Monaco downtown on Friday, May 22,”the lieutenant reported. “A busy spot, sir.”

“Meaningwhat?” the Colonel wasn’t really asking. “That we shouldn’tdo it?”

“Ah, no,sir. It’s just a busy place. I thought this was deep cover.”

“There’syour problem, Lieutenant. Stop thinking. Execute orders. We’re out of time. Wehave to catch Titan where he’s vulnerable. Where better than a place surroundedby family, friends, and that cute little redhead? Hmm?”

“Won’t we beseen, sir?”

“People havea way of forgetting details like that. Who’s going to remember well-dressed menin tuxedoes at a prom? But our boy will worry about being seen. Moreimportantly, he’ll worry about all his friends and the girl. He knows what’llhappen if we let Bone loose on the place...” the Colonel felt a rare pang ofjoy.

“Hell,let’s do that anyway.”