TITAN

The Hotel Monaco is in downtown D.C., west of the Capitol. It stands as tall as a building in D.C. can stand. No building can be taller than the Capitol and with its opulent top-floor ballroom, it was popular for all kinds of events. Weddings, bar mitzvahs, business engagements, proms and even the president organized events there. St. Paul’s Academy normally wouldn’t have stood a chance to get a late May event scheduled there if wasn’t for Kyp Carson, one of Eric’s hockey teammates, who’s dad co-owned the place. He also got them the top-floor ballroom suite. It would make for a memorable night.

Oh, would it ever.

On the top floor, the elevators opened onto a wide hallway stretching out to the right and left along a scarlet carpet with gold edging. The walls were beige and ornate with classical art and antique fixtures. Across from the elevator, two sets of thick, oak double doors opened onto the roomy, circular ballroom. Tall, pearl-hued columns led along the round edges of the room toward the open glass view of the Washington, D.C., skyline, over to the national Capital Blades Hockey Arena across the street and, ultimately, to the Washington Monument and the Capitol both on the horizon in view. Glass doors circling the room opened onto a viewing deck for guests to take in the view with the night air.

Hardwood flooring ran up the center of the room, leading to the glass doors, with a border of scarlet carpeting circling the edges of the room. The ceiling was a delicate display of architectural design and function, with a buttress connecting the columns from the opposite sides of the room. One thinks “white” and “clean”when standing at the oak doors, but that should not be mistaken for sterile or without character. No, the room just looks expensive.

A large banner, which read: “A Night to Remember – St. Paul’s Academy,” hung over the left wall along the inside of the columns—it was the gaudiest thing in the room. Other typical prom decorations dotted the walls: posters to sign, tables with props for personal photos and other knickknacks, and pictures of the graduating seniors.

Tony Frank had been working events like weddings and proms for the Hotel Monaco for almost ten years. It wasn’t his chosen profession. No, Frank got disability retirement ten years ago. He had been a detective. He wasn’t “Dirty Harry” or Frank Pembleton, but he was a solid cop. He missed a step down a flight of stairs during a foot chase and ruined his back. The bad guys were kids and he had become an old man. The fact he walked with only a limp was lucky.

The event setup gig was nice, though. Being a cop is a lot of paperwork and organization, so arranging a room for different functions was easy. He had it down to a science. Preparation, preparation, preparation. If you do good setup, take good inventory, make sure you don’t run out of anything major on game night, and keep to the schedule, the events would work themselves out. Some lousy shylock gets bar mitzvahed, a couple gets blasted at their wedding reception, or some horny teens dance and act like idiots at their prom—as long as the food was out, the drinks were served, the tables cleaned, etc., everybody was happy. Simple.

As a rule, Frank didn’t care what the event was. He was paid for all of them, but proms were something else. Kids these days were smart-mouthed, little bastards. They were rude to his staff and left messes because they were lazy shits. Geez, and their dancing... they might as well be fucking. These Catholic deals were a little better since the chaperones and other school admin types kept the floor fucking to a minimum and had a tight leash on the kids. Girls still dressed like little sluts and the guys pawed them all night, but the messes and backtalk—his departments of concern—were at a minimum.

Event prep for this prom started a day early, which was unusual, with moving tables, chairs, the dance floor sections, and the tech for sound setup. Frank’s team was good and fast, so he didn’t understand why all of the extra time was requested. Probably some “richer than God,” private school prick parent complained that it wasn’t safe enough with only one day of setup.

Things were rolling along nicely until Phil and Tommy disappeared. They weren’t the keys to the whole operation or anything, but they were good movers. He had to divert some wait staff to moving shit around, which meant there was less wait staff to assist with food prep and delivery from the storage freezer. Those two, Phil and Tommy, were usually pretty reliable, so Frank was steamed that they had just bailed on him. Whatever. Gotta get it done regardless.

A little bit later, some new faces popped up in the kitchen and started helping out. They told Frank that they were from the school’s prom committee and were there to assist with setup. Clean looking, but off. Once upon a time, Frank might’ve paid more attention to that sort of thing, but bodies were bodies.

A little later, a few more folks showed up in the ballroom and helped cart tables and chairs around. Strong mugs, dressed nicely, and polite enough, but... there was something not right about them either. Frank didn’t complain, though, because around seven or so, he noticed a few more of his folks were MIA—a few wait staff and a couple setup folks. No big deal, the setup was just about done and these school folks were supposed to help with that. Only thing was, they were wearing those annoying “tooth” phones on their ears, or whatever that shit was called. Frank barely tolerated the out-of-date cell phone he wore on his hip. Still, these new humps got their shit done.

Unfortunately, Frank realized something strange was going on a little too late. A few minutes past eight, a few more school folks had arrived, priests, and were asking around to see what their staff could help with. Of course, the problem with that was that their staff had been helping out since early in the evening. So, who were they talking about?

“Hey, Tony, can you help me figure out where this goes?” One of the older guys called out from the hall leading to the kitchen.

“Ah, balls.” Frank shook his head. How many times did he have to go over this shit with these people? Can’t they read a fucking diagram? “Look, buddy, take a look at the plan sheet…”

The older man’s left hand wrapped around Frank’s mouth like a vice. Frank had barely begun to struggle before the older man plunged a long, silver spike though his heart. Frank died and slumped into the man’s hold. Good night.

The older man—the Shadow Man—guided Frank to the trash area where giant black bags were piled up for transport to the service elevator. He dropped Frank on the edge and motioned to a pair of men in the kitchen area. They stomped over and rolled the body onto the pile and covered him.

The academy principal, Father Cook, peered around the corner. “Excuse me?”

The Colonel whirled around with a smile. “Ah, yes, Father. Is there a problem?”

“Oh, not really, but we were wondering if the music setup could be moved back about ten feet… we want to get as much dance floor space as we can. This way, too, the view out over the skyline isn’t blocked,” Father Cook motioned to the ballroom in a big wide gesture.

The Colonel slid his arm around the Father’s shoulders. “Of course, Father. Right away. Please have the DJ start getting his equipment unplugged and we’ll take care of it.”

With a big smile and a wink, the Shadow Man chuckled with Father Cook. “Don’t want anyone tripping over those cords. Safety first, right?”

* * *

The day of the prom began like most others did.

Calvin, Eric’s cat, jumped on the bed and trotted past Eric to look out the window. Eric awoke with a start. He patted Calvin and felt his butt rise as Eric stroked his fur. Grogginess gave way to consciousness and Eric sat up, rubbing a balled fist in his right eye. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand—8:15—and, for the briefest of instants, panicked.

School!

But then he remembered and he relaxed. His last official day of school was last Friday and this week’s Monday through Wednesday had been scheduled for exams. At this point, Eric only vaguely remembered what the exams were like or how he thought he had done on them. For as much as he had been feeling like he was losing himself, his mind seemed to be recovering. He probably did fine on the tests.

Everything had changed so much about him, but he was still floored by the idea that high school was over. College was just a few months off, but that was too far away to consider at the moment. It wouldn’t be real until it was here. No, for now, all that he could wrap his mind around was the end of traditional school. He didn’t know what the other kind of school was, exactly, but he knew it would be different.

Eric smiled in the satisfaction that by this time on a normal Friday in May he’d already be fighting through hallways to his locker.

Not anymore.

The thought made him giddy in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. He was fresh and rejuvenated. The scars were little more than memories on his chest and back.

Eric’s thoughts turned to the sweeping array of changes that he was undergoing. He didn’t subscribe to the idea that he needed anyone. He could live and survive, relying only on himself if he had to. That was something his parents had raised him to believe.

“Don’t count on anyone but yourself,” good ol’ Tim was known to say. And yet there was something fresh inside him. It was bright and it blotted out all of the negativity. It was even strong enough to block the swirling dark around his heart—the conduit to God or whatever it was. A thought borne on a maturity he didn’t yet have, Eric wondered if the feeling was inspired by Rose or simply by the notion that he and another person shared something deep and intimate.

For the first time since Jim had gone missing, Eric didn’t miss Jim’s presence simply because of what had been done to him or because of guilt; Eric just missed his best friend on the day of his senior prom. It was a day that friends, lovers, and even parents were supposed to remember. Eric just wished his friend could be there. He threw a glance at the strip of wall beside the door with a picture of Jim, Drew, and himself horsing around in a pool.

Eric shambled through his bedroom door and into the living room. Tim sat on the far end of the couch with The Washington Times spread open in front of him. The radio earpiece sat on the end table beside him.

“Morning, Dad,” Eric muttered.

“Hey. Big day, huh?” Tim looked over the top of the paper.

“Yeah. Hey, why aren’t you at work?”

“Your mom and I are chaperones at the prom tonight. We’re gonna be up late. Plus, I just didn’t feel like going in,” Tim said. “Besides, I thought we could go for another ride.”

“Not today,” Eric quipped. “Today, I’m Joe Schmoe. I’m going to my senior prom and enjoying it. No black vision pits or hippie vampires.”

“That’s fair.”

“It’s just...” Eric sat on the footrest in front of the loveseat. “I feel like a regular person for the first time since all of this. Let me hold on to that for today, huh?”

Tim smiled. “Believe it or not, kid, but I understand. Regular Joe. Got it.”

Eric circled into the kitchen where his mom was enjoying her morning ritual of smokes and chocolate milk. She, too, had the Times, but she was reading the Metro section and shaking her head.

“Morning, Ma,” Eric moved past her to the refrigerator.

Nancy took a drag from her cigarette and didn’t look up. “This Rose must be a real sport, hmm?”

“Must be.” Eric pulled some orange juice from the top shelf of the ‘fridge. “I like her a lot.”

“You’ve only been out with her a few times.”

“With school and my ‘extracurricular activities,’ we haven’t had a lot of time for dates. But we’ve talked a lot and gotten to know each other well.” Eric felt defensive. Youth and inexperience put him in the position of explaining himself when really he didn’t understand why he needed to. Besides, his mom knew all about Melanie, so he wanted to put Rose in a better light.

“I just know what happens at the prom,” she said, finally turning to face him. “You have to be careful. You of all people.”

“No super babies, Ma. I promise.” Eric laughed.

“It’s not a joke. And I don’t just mean that. Do you trust this girl?” Nancy asked. “She’s not going to run out and tell the Washington Post that she’s dating a superhero, right?”

“No,” Eric said. “And even if she did, who would believe her?”

“All she’d have to say is that she knows who tore up Old Town and she’d get someone’s attention,” Nancy said.

“She’s not like that, Mom. Were you like that? Huh? When you found out about Dad?” Eric’s irritation flashed hot.

“It’s different.”

“Because it’s you. The fact is that Dad trusted you… I trust Rose. She l…” Eric stopped himself, but it was too late.

“Loves you?” Nancy swiveled in her seat. “Eric, you’ve known her barely two months!”

“Hey,” Tim appeared at the other entrance to the kitchen. “I thought this was ‘happy day.’”

Eric tried a smile that didn’t stick. “It’s ‘regular day’ and this is about as regular as it gets.”

Tim chuckled. “Well, let’s worry about ‘superhero’ stuff tomorrow, eh, Nance? Wouldya leave him alone.”

“One, Timmy. We’ve got one. They took the other one. But you’re right, sure, let’s pretend like nothing bad’s ever happened.” Nancy waved dismissively. Eric took his juice and slipped out behind Tim. He wasn’t angry, but he’d had the Sarah conversation one too many times.

“Hey. It’s his prom. Not yours or mine. We can bitch at him tomorrow, but not today,” Tim said.

Nancy turned back to her newspaper and snatched up her cigarette again. Before it touched her lips, she paused and cocked a look at Tim. “You of all people know he should be taking this seriously.”

Tim looked at Nancy but didn’t quite see her. There was a dense fog in his mind and it hurt him to stare too deep into it. His jaw tensed. In his heart of hearts, Tim knew that she was right. But the memory was uncertain. He remembered what happened to Sarah, but he felt unsure of himself. All Tim could say was, “You’re right. I do know. That tells me he should try to be himself as much as he can.”

Tim returned to the living room and picked up his newspaper. Upon sitting down, an old pang returned. Clearer. An echo of pain that he once experienced, but couldn’t quite remember. It faded away again.

He decided that Eric was doing the right thing. In an honesty Tim would have never admitted, he realized that Eric probably wouldn’t have made the mistakes that he did. And it wasn’t any divine vision or sense that told him that.

Tim Steele just knew his son had a good heart.

* * *

Eric looked great in a tuxedo. That’s what he decided, anyway. What Rose thought mattered, too, he reminded himself quickly. He dressed in his room in front of a mirror that rested on the wall beside his bedroom door.

But Eric didn’t know how to tie a bow tie and his mom probably did. Moms always knew stuff like that. Eric wondered how it was that all moms had such broad and eclectic knowledge. He found Nancy in his parents’ dressing room fixing her hair. She was in a sleeveless black and white checkered evening gown.

“You look nice, Mom,” Eric said with faux cordiality.

“Nice?” Nancy puffed. “Your father and I will be the youngest parents in the place. Let’s see how the rest of the old bags dress.”

“Hmm,” was Eric’s immediate response. He learned long ago that sometimes no response was best. “Anyway,” Eric held up his bow tie. “Can you do this?”

“Yeah, gimme a sec.” Nancy fingered the sides of her hair. Nothing about her hair really changed, but she seemed to think what she did had changed its shape.

Tim appeared in the doorway in his tuxedo. His hair was spiked with gel and his sleeves were just barely too short for him—it was his broad shoulders, you see. His bow tie had already been tied, but his top button was undone.

“Check you out, kid,” Tim said. “Spiffy.”

Eric never knew how to take compliments from his dad. “Thanks, Dad. You look alright, too.”

“Well thanks. The old man can still clean up,” Tim said. “When are you getting picked up?”

“Drew said the limo will be here around eight.” Eric tapped his foot at his mom. Caught between the two of them, Eric had a feeling of déjà vu. He was a young boy again and his parents were swinging him between them. Eric remembered that Sarah had been with his grandmother at home. It was one of the few times he recalled being with just his parents by himself as a boy. Guilt stung him with remembrance of Sarah, dead on the couch.

You have them all to yourself now.

Eric stared past the image and found reality on the other side. Nancy put down her brush and took the tie from his hands, wrapping it around his neck. She laughed and said, “Heh, I could just pull and squeeze, ya know.”

Eric grinned. He lifted his right arm and a curved blade slide from his forearm out over his balled fist. “Then what?”

Tim pushed Eric’s arm down. “Enough of that.What’s your buddy Spider-Man say about ‘great power?’”

Nancy weaved the tie into a bow beneath Eric’s jaw. After about thirty seconds of egregious straightening, Eric pulled away. “Okay. It’s good. Thanks.”

“Come here, it’s crooked!” Nancy went after him, but Eric curled around Tim who didn’t move.

“Can we hurry up, please?” Tim tapped his wrist with no watch. “They want us there early and I wanna eat something.”

“Aren’t they feeding us?” Nancy picked up her brush again.

“Yeah, appetizers. This thing goes till like midnight. We’re gonna be herding horny teenagers away from the exits all night and I’m not doin’ it on an empty stomach,” Tim said.

“Right, Tim. Dinner. I got it. Always led around by your stomach,” Nancy frowned.

Tim dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Okay. I gotcha.” He stomped off back to the living room where the TV was tuned to an NFL channel countdown.

Eric’s parents sniped at each other all the time. Within minutes they were talking like nothing had ever happened. He stopped feeling uncomfortable around it long ago. Now it was just annoying. A part of him intuited that his parents’ way of bitching at one another saved and nourished their marriage. Nothing was ever bottled up or held back. It was always out there.

The ceiling fan started to whirl up his hair in the back, so Eric dialed it down. He slipped on his black loafers and collected his needed belongings—keys, wallet, cell phone, and that single trusty condom he’d kept hidden. Securing his accouterments in the pockets of his pants and jacket, Eric went to the living room with his dad.

“Should I take Rose’s flowers out of the fridge now?” Eric wondered aloud.

“Yeah. You don’t want them to be cold when you put them on her,” Tim acknowledged. “Just leave ‘em on the dining room table. You won’t forget, right?”

“Nope.” Eric sauntered into the kitchen and produced a corsage of red roses with very fresh, green surrounding leaves. It was supposed to match Rose’s dress, which, as he was told was green—but that’s all he could get out of her. He placed it on the table and headed back into the living room. A balloon of anxiousness inflated at the base of his stomach. He couldn’t tamp it down.

Nancy walked out with her purse on her arm and a corsage of her own, white roses, to match.

“You ready?” Tim said.

“Yeah, let’s hurry.” Nancy grabbed a dress sweater off the coat hooks.

“Nancy, I am not shoveling food into my mouth so we can get there an hour early to stand around staring at the other ‘duh’ parents,” Tim snorted. “Let’s try to enjoy ourselves, please.”

Nancy looked as if she hadn’t even heard Tim, a gift wives learn fast in their marriages, and looked at Eric. “Are you sure you don’t want a picture now?”

“I want one of me there, not standing in our foyer like a dope,” Eric said, waving her off. “Plus, I want pictures of everyone.”

“You just want one of you and Rose,” Nancy said. “She just better not be dressed like a slut.” Nancy and Tim headed for the door.

“I hope she is!” Eric smiled back. He grabbed the front door for them. As he did, his eye caught a glimpse of their new carpet and his mind was assaulted with a blurry flash of chopping a man in half. It felt so long ago. He let it into his mind and allowed it to pass without dwelling on it. It was a helpful but disturbing skill he had learned of late.

Tim grabbed Eric’s hand and shook it firmly. “We’ll see you there.” And with a pat on the shoulder, Tim leaned closer, “Be safe.”

Eric nodded. “Everything will be okay. I’ll see you at the hotel.”

Nancy kissed Eric’s cheek and walked out ahead of Tim. Tim followed and Eric closed the door behind them. Eric was left alone while he waited for Drew, Constance, and Rose to arrive. Anxiousness quickly turned to anticipation, but there was another feeling buried under his exuberance.

Expectation.

Not of his ride and friends, but of something else. Eric was barely aware of it until it struck him with force as he was getting into the limo.

* * *

Eric couldn’t bear to do anything but wait in the dining room and watch the street leading up to his house. He knew it was irrational, but he thought that if he watched TV or did something else, he would miss the limo. It wasn’t like they would pull up and then leave without him. His anxiousness over prom had mixed like acid with a bevy of other emotions that had seeped in over the last year and, more specifically, the last two months.

He was afraid of how much things were about to change. Even Rose played some part in his fear. High school was ending and college was about to begin. His life as he knew it would be over.

It already is.

Even though he didn’t like some of his classmates, he knew them. He knew Antonio was an asshole of Uranus proportions and he knew that wherever she was, Melanie would be staring daggers at him. Then there was Drew—kind of a flake, but he had really stepped up since Jim had gone away. What would happen to them when they went to college? And Jim.

Jim...

That was the biggest thing. Eric had been so mired in Titan and Rose and graduation that he still hadn’t been able to process what happened to Jim. In some ways, he felt like he had run it through his head a million times. But really, that was all he had done—run through it in his head like a tape. It was a cerebral exercise. He hadn’t let it sink in because if he did, then he’d have to face the truth.

Jim and I will never be friends again.

It was the kind of thing that Eric wouldn’t express, but he was beginning to feel it. There was a big part of him that wanted to call Jim and tell him about Rose. Discuss her breast size. Try to articulate what her orgasms might sound like. Maybe debate Star Wars in the middle of it. The kinds of things that guys do. The kinds of things that he and Jim had once done, but never would again. Eric almost hopedthat Jim was dead now.

I don’t want to kill him.

That was it, plain and simple. Eric knew Jim was alive if only because the bastards using him would know that Eric didn’t want to kill his friend. The very human, teen, friend parts of him didn’t want to kill Jim or even fight him. He would give those evil men his very soul if that would save his friend. For all of the terrible things Jim had done in Old Town, he wasn’t evil. There was still good in him. Eric knew it.

But Titan knew what had to be done. Jim could not be saved. He was a monster; an abomination of science and, worse, of God. Titan was meant for who it was meant for. Titan is not a sword or a gun—it cannot be used by just anyone. It is a tool of God. A tool of good. It is bigger than Eric and Jim. Eric could not just give it away because he didn’t want it. No matter how much he might want to.

The knock at the door interrupted his self-recriminations. A long, black limo was in front of his house parked parallel to the curb. He was so deep in thought that it had passed before his eyes unseen.

The knock repeated.

Eric went to the door. Through the lacey window dressing his mom had on the front door window, Eric could make out a swath of scarlet red that could only have been Rose’s beautiful hair.

The door gave way and Eric found himself staring at the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. It could have been another case of high school melodrama, but Rose looked amazing. It was a fact. Her hair was up in a flirty bob that Eric couldn’t describe if he wanted to. Her skin looked like it was made of fine liquid silk. And her dress was a brilliant green. It curved with her hips up to her bosom and tied behind her neck. An ovular opening at the breakage of her breasts produced stiffening in Eric’s formal pants, which he angled himself to hide.

“You...” That’s all Eric could say. His breath hadn’t been taken away, but it was misplaced. Rose’s cheeks took on the hue of their namesake and she failed to temper the size of her smile.

“You look very handsome.” Rose seemed to breathe the words.

“Gosh... I’m sorry for using the word ‘gosh,’ but you look, ah, ‘huminah-huminah’ if you catch my drift. I have to channel Ralph Kramden because I’m not clever enough to describe just how great you look.” Eric rambled.

“Are you ready to go?” Rose bounced a little in her heels.

Eric tried out a smarmy smile. “Can we just stay in?”

Rose rolled her eyes. “Why don’t we go to the place I bought this expensive dress for?”

“Okay, okay. Lemme get one thing.” He ducked into the dining room and snatched the corsage off the table. When he returned, he had a bit better control of himself. “This is for you.”

Rose grinned and leaned forward. “Just don’t prick me.”

Eric stifled a laugh, bringing “That’s what she said” to his lips, but he didn’t say it. “Wow. What a setup. Do you watch The Office?”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

Eric removed the flowers from the tacky plastic container. He tossed it behind him, eliciting a giggle from Rose. She stuck out her chest at Eric and playfully bit her lip.

“That’s not fair,” he said.

Eric slipped his finger behind the fabric of Rose’s dress above her left breast. Rose’s skin responded to his touch with goose bumps. Eric was very much aware of the rising and falling of her chest. He felt like it was taking forever to attach the corsage, but it was over in a moment.

“Good job,” Rose said with a wink. “Way to get the post-prom party started.”

Eric blushed like a fool. “Let’s go, sex maniac.” He pulled the door shut behind him and followed Rose down the steps. Rose smiled as Eric offered her his arm and they headed to the limo.

Take a good look at her, huh!

Eric opened the door for Rose and found Drew inside the limo with his hand down Constance’s top while her hand moved lithely over his ass. Eric cleared his throat. “Um. The sex party’s not till later. Zip up.”

Eric guided Rose through the door and put his foot on the edge of the opening when the dark blast hit him. Black swam out of Eric’s periphery like surging rapids of oil. It looked and felt like a tunnel, though it was all black and dark so he wasn’t sure how he could define it with shape. Voices and sounds too numerous to comprehend reverberated throughout his mind in a cacophony of chaos. The black seemed to wobble and shimmer with the sounds. It was like being hit over the head with a supernatural alarm...

Alarm. A warning? Was this a warning?

The visions had never been like this before. Usually it was like falling into a fast moving river or feeling heavy with unseen dark weight. But this was quite literally a flash-bang that exploded with blackness in his brain. The river reached out and slapped him.

The dark lightened and the voices lessened. Eric was now in pseudo-control again, but he was being led. He knew he was driving. Nothing was clearly visible or less surreal, but he knew it. The road was beneath him and he was in a car. Turns and stops and speed—sensations flooded him as he stood, cocked to get into the limo.

There were other voices. Eric? Eric! They didn’t matter. No. This was getting interesting. An image was making itself clear in his mind’s eye. He understood the path, but not the destination. There was a journey, somewhere he was supposed to go, and it led to the hangar. The hangar. Go to the hangar.

Go.

To.

The.

Hangar.

They were words without context. Just an image of an old, rusty plane hangar. It didn’t make sense. Why…?

“Eric.” A voice in the dark.

It was Jim McNulty. Jim was at the hangar. Eric had to go to the hangar. No, strike that—Titan had to go to the hangar. The dark swam away from his vision as fast as it had come.

Eric gasped, not realizing that he hadn’t taken a breath in a minute and a half. Air filled his lungs and he regained himself. His senses returned.

“Eric?” Rose looked up at him with her impossibly green, gorgeous eyes. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. He didn’t know what he could possibly say. Instead, he took Rose’s hand and pulled her close for a kiss. The scent of her citrus perfume took hold. He drew back and leaned to Rose’s ear to say, “I can’t go with you, but I’ll be there.”

When Eric drew back, Rose’s eyes held a look he couldn’t shake. But then she put on another face for Drew and Constance. “Right. You should take care of that first.”

Drew tucked his shirt in and glared. “Wait, dude. What?”

“He has to meet us down there. His parents got a flat and he has the jack in his car. It’s fine. Go help them,” Rose said.

Eric met her gaze. “Right. I’ll hurry. Go on and have fun.”

Rose’s sparkling green eyes lost their luster and reflected what might have been tears. Without a word she told him: Be careful.

And maybe, I love you.

Eric watched the limo go. His normal day was gone. And he got an inkling that maybe more than that was gone. He wasn’t sure why or how, but he felt that when he didgo to the prom, it wouldn’t be for laughs.

But first things first, it was time to find Jim and whoever was behind this.

* * *

Eric drove along the tree line that ran beside the edge of the small tarmac leading to the old airplane hangar in the distance. He didn’t know how he found the place, but he at least remembered driving this time. He had somehow known every turn and every highway exit from his house leading to this barren runway in the middle of nowhere even though he had never been here before. He knew it from the dark images that stopped him from taking the limo. The Source coursed through him and he rode the current.

Eric knew there was a reason.Something didn’t want him going to the prom. He was sure of it. A combination of regular common sense and his new preternatural sense told him that his vision was deliberate. But it told him no more. That worried him. His parents were at the prom and so were Rose and Drew.

It’s a test. Am I Eric Steele or Titan?

Was it one or the other, or could it be both? He didn’t know. Even now.

Maybe he had already made his choice. Maybe that’s what the test was. Choose to go to the prom with Rose and embrace humanity or go to the hangar and face evil as Titan. If he could manage it, Eric wanted to do both. To him, this seemed to suggest that he was leaning towards humanity—or selfishness. Only an imperfect person would try to save the world and then go to a dance. He’d see if he could fit both in.

Any doubts about his destiny dissolved when a line of gunfire stitched a line up the hood of his car and into the windshield, splintering the glass. In a moment of instinct born of neither human nor Titan, but survival, Eric yanked the steering wheel to the left and his car broke from the tree line and onto the open tarmac. Steam and smoke skewered up from the bullet holes in his hood and wrapped up and over the car. Eric smelled something like a burning tire. He flinched when the hood exploded open and flew off over the back of the car.

“Enough,” Eric growled.

His hands tightened on the wheel and he released the beast. Literally. He didn’t let Titan take him. He unleashed it. The tiny strands of strange, liquid metal leaped from his skin and curled down around his hands, arms, and face—everywhere—until he was Titan.

He felt the change.

He had sensed it during the vampire fight that he had become something new, but here, behind the wheel of his green Nissan Sentra, Eric Steele became Titan.

The gunfire found him again. Pop! Pop! Pop! It came from so far away that it didn’t seem to be menacing until it chewed into the hood, throwing up more smoke. The noise of the rattling, dying engine and the reverberating pops had deafened him to sound. He ignored it. Titan—not Eric—sighted the gunman, perched on one knee between the main hangar doors, letting go of a torrent of fire. Another burst tore open something in the engine block that exploded over the surface of the exposed compartment in a blinding flash.

Titan gritted his teeth beneath his mask as the car became harder to control. Strength wasn’t the problem; the drive control failed. He did the only thing he could think to: he centered on the gunner, rammed the pedal down, the speedometer needle sputtered to climb, leveling out at about sixty, and he thumbed the cruise control. Gunfire intensified as the plane hangar loomed larger ahead. Titan knew the machine gun was firing exploding rounds because when it glanced off his shoulder it stung like a bitch, ripping away his armor. He ripped the seatbelt out of its mooring and crouched in the driver’s seat until the hangar was only about a hundred yards away.

Titan shattered through the windshield looking like an ancient gladiator riding atop a flaming carriage from hell. He launched himself up and out, arcing up and behind the car. Landing in a clumsy roll, Titan looked up just in time to see the car roar into the hangar doors with a grinding crunch! A quick boom-clap rattled over the tarmac and a flash of light resonated through the hangar’s new doorway. The gunfire stopped.

Titan sprinted for the hangar. He embraced the situation and burst through the gaping entrance into the flame-lit hangar bay. The tarmac gunner must have dodged to his left when he saw the kamikaze car screaming at him because he brought his gun on Titan from his prone position and toppled the metallic shape over with a burst of fire.

Fireworks exploded in Titan’s head as the gunner laid into him at close range with what looked like an M249 SAW—that knowledge courtesy of Call of Duty. His armor stiffened and thickened to protect him, but he wasn’t ready for the shots, so the burst of pain igniting along his right backside drove him to the concrete. He rolled onto his screaming back and flicked his wrist at the guard. A spinning metal “T” embedded itself in the guard’s shoulder, knocking the rifle to the ground. The guard yelped and recoiled, clutching his wound.

Titan was on him in an instant. “Shoot me, you fuck?” The voice saying the words was both Eric and something else, something deep and instinctive.

He grabbed the guard by the neck and slammed him into the metal sheeting wall, denting it in the shape of a grown man. A whisper told him not to kill the man. Titan never quite knew if that inclination came from Eric or something higher up the food chain. Instead of snapping his neck, Titan tossed the guard over to the right side of the hangar. He’d live. Not pain free, but he’d be fine with a few broken bones.

Turning back into the hangar, Titan took notice of how small it was. The open area was probably fifty yards long and across. Beyond that, pre-fabricated cubicles were arranged against the back section with a large solid structure placed near the back corner. Eric’s car had torn through the hangar doors and crashed into the outer rooms.

Titan moved into the narrow main hall. The colors were green and drab, not what he had expected. No skull and crossbones as the “Team Evil” logo, but it was still dark and radiated with evil. The hangar stank of fear and darkness.

Moving through the hallways and plain, empty rooms, he knew that none of the men had wanted to be there. Except for one. Titan’s body clenched against the sensation of intense hatred. Evil, yes, but evil was broad and bad—this was focused. This was a specific hatred of Titan and Eric knew it with every fiber of his being. It was an old hatred, too. He thought of Arthur Steele.

Titan was disappointed by how ordinary the base was. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it was something more nefarious than plain camouflage walls and empty rooms. Maybe a medieval castle on a dark mountain with storm clouds and lightning flashing above would have been better, hmm? Unless...

Unless they were leaving, you stupid ass. Orthey were all gone for one last mission...

Titan stepped up the pace and surged through the airless halls and ill-lit rooms. Allowing his senses to guide him, he followed a trail that he didn’t fully understand. Upon rounding the last corner—leading to a larger, more-permanent-looking structure—a rifle butt crashed across Titan’s head. He recoiled and recovered to find a man in a tuxedo with an M4 aimed at his chest. Titan grabbed the gun barrel and drove it to one side before the guard could squeeze off a shot. The weapon rattled with auto fire as the two men struggled for the gun. Bullets ripped a line down one wall, across the floor, and up another wall before Titan thought to just punch the guy over the top of the rifle, breaking the man’s nose. The guard crumpled; problem solved. Titan ripped the gun in half and let the pieces drop at his sides.

Titan arrived at a heavy metal door, which was not locked. He pushed it open slowly, not quite sure if he was ready to see inside. It was empty like all the others. But this room had more character. It had concrete walls with iron supports and lining. There was a long stretched out, distressed bed in the corner and a collapsed medical table in the middle of the room.

This was Jim’s room.

Wait, no, his sense tuned in. Not exactly. It was Bone’s room now...

There was another door that was ajar. Titan stepped through, unafraid of any additional shooters. It was a hallway with an observation window. A metal stool lay on its side under the glass, twisted and crushed like something heavy had been sitting on it. Titan looked through the window and found a child’s bedroom. The bed frame was wood and the mattress was plump with fluffy light blue covers. There was a nice dresser along the wall and a pink carpet. But Titan could barely contain himself when he saw what lie on the floor beside the door.

A pink teddy bear monogramed with: “Bethy Bear.”

Jim wasn’t lying. Beth is alive.

Titan went back to the guard in the tuxedo who was crawling to his feet. Titan grabbed the man by the back of the neck and slammed his head into the wall.

“Where are Jim and Beth McNulty?!” Titan couldn’t help his rage and neither could Eric—they were finally working together.

The man trembled. “Surrey, William. Private. United States Air Force.”

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” Titan bashed him into the wall again. “Don’t gimme that bullshit!” Titan spun the guard around and felt through his tux jacket. The guard tried to run.

Titan produced a long metal spike and stabbed him through the tender muscle between his neck and left shoulder, pinning him to the wall.

“AAUUGGHH!” The man trembled.

Titan produced another spike and held it in front of the man’s face. “OPEN YOUR EYES! I know this hurts. Look at this. If you move, I’ll put it through your balls. Why are you dressed in a tux?”

Titan knew deep down, but it wouldn’t be true until he saw proof. Not until…

The car keys and the photograph of Rose and her beautiful green dress in the guard’s jacket pocket told Titan everything he needed to know. Titan grabbed the spike pinning the guard to the wall and twisted it.

“AUUGHHGOD! Oh, GOD!” The guard tried to push Titan away with a flimsy arm.

Titan’s face was an inch from the guard’s. “God can’t help you. Now. Your life depends on how you answer the next question. Are your people already at the prom?”

“YES, GOD, YES!” the guard sobbed. “They’re the wait staff! That’s what the tux is for! PLEASE take it out! Please take it out! Take it OUT!!”

Titan ripped the spike out of the soldier’s shoulder and reabsorbed it, blood and all. The guard crumpled to the floor. Titan stared at him with murder in his heart.

“After all you people have done to my family and my friends, you’re lucky I’m not like you.”

Titan left the crying man where he lay.

My cell!

Titan receded back into Eric and he rummaged through his pocket for the phone. He yanked it free and ran outside the hangar with his phone to his ear. Eric moved around to the side of the hangar and found a black Crown Victoria.

“This is Tim. Leave a message after the bloop sound… *BLOOP*”

Eric slammed the phone shut. “Dammit, Dad! Pick up the damn phone!”

He didn’t bother unlocking the driver’s side door; Eric punched through the window and slid in the opening, slicing his skin and suit on the loose glass shards. It didn’t hurt. He jammed the keys home and spun the car engine up.

Eric ratcheted the car into drive and sped off the tarmac back toward the main highway. Toward Washington, D.C. Toward his destiny. Whatever it might be.

* * *

Nancy Steele loved to get dressed up and go out. It was rare that she got to do it. Tim hated to dress up, so they steered clear of places that required it. He was like a child. He bitched and moaned that he was uncomfortable in dress shoes since he had fat feet. Of course, whenever she wanted to go shopping for shoes that would fit better, Tim balked.

Eric’s prom was good if only because it was an event that Tim couldn’t turn down. Ever since Sarah died, Nancy and Tim tried to become more active in Eric’s school and life. Only one of them had been able to attend his school functions for so long that they felt like they owed it to him. They’d never say it that way, of course.

Besides, Nancy was easily the youngest mom in the place. All of these other crows had popped their kids out in their late thirties or so. Some of them in their forties even.

Geez. How do you keep up with an eighteen-year-old kid in your fifties and sixties?

Nancy felt exhausted doing it and she was only forty three. But as she watched some of the early prom arrivals laugh and cavort like little monsters, she guessed that their parents hadn’tkept up with them. She relished reading the newspaper stories about parents getting arrested for throwing parties for their underage kids and serving them alcohol—it was one thing to give your kid a sip of beer or a glass of wine at a family event, but to go out and buy the booze for a horny, teen romp? Ha. Those were the same folks who lit up a joint with their kids.

Good luck working at the kitty litter plant when you grow up, kids!

Oh, and look at some of these old bats’ dresses, too—in their fifties and offloading a truckload of cleavage. If you got it, flaunt it, Nancy figured, but most of these gals probably sagged to their knees. You could measure their ages by the craggily wrinkles between their old lady fun bags. Yeah, Nancy liked how she looked by comparison.

Besides, seeing Eric’s classmates helped Nancy appreciate how good he had been for her and Tim. Other kids might’ve been little shits after the death of a sibling, and with good reason, but not Eric. He took it in stride. Probably too much. Eric internalized his feelings more than he should have. Nancy only hoped it didn’t blow up in him one day.

Of course, she should judge, right?

Nancy had been internalizing her feelings about Sarah for years. Crying, loneliness, depression... all leaves on a deeply-rooted tree. No one can ever understand what it’s like to lose a child until they do. There’s nothing like it.

Even losing your parents isn’t as bad. It’s the natural course of life. But a child? How is fifteen years a young girl’s time? It’s not. It can’t be. She took care of Sarah and would’ve done it every day for the rest of her life.

And that was it, wasn’t it?

That creeping voice—the nagging sensation that she had wanted Sarah to die. To release her. To release herself. It fueled the rage that burned her up from the inside. Sarah was sick and in pain. No one wants that for their child. No one. If Nancy could have taken Sarah’s pain and sickness away, she would have. She would have taken it unto herself if that had been possible. But it wasn’t. No one can do that, save for God. He won’t. No, Nancy wanted Sarah’s pain to end but not for her to go. Never that. Never that. Never. Never. Never. Her baby—her little girl.

Her anger was never about the fact that Sarah died. It was the lost potential. What might Sarah have been? Other than a superhero. A dancer? A musician? A doctor? A cop? Anything besides what she currently was. Dirt. Dust. Gone.

Nancy realized that she was clenching her fists. She took a breath and threw her smile back on. She was genuinely happy for Eric and happy about everything he had accomplished, but still it took effort to smile. Especially when it seemed like there was worse to come. Jim hadn’t been her child, but she watched him grow up. It was hard to imagine those two awkward little boys that used to trip over their own feet and spill juice boxes grown up and killing each other.

“Something’s wrong here,” Tim said.

“What?”

Tim held up the radio he took off of the dead man at the hospital. “I’ve been trying to listen in on this. It wasn’t working before. Too far out of range from the transmitter, I think. I’m getting something now. It’s coded, so I can’t listen… but they’re close.”

“Here?” Nancy breathed.

“I don’t know. But I feel them.” Tim gritted his teeth. It was like he was feeling something genuinely, physically unpleasant.

Nancy faced him. “Like before?”

“Just like the night Sarah was born,” Tim said. “They’re here.”

“They?” Nancy’s smile was gone.

“Yes, ‘they.’ This feeling… it’s old,” Tim inched closer. “It’s like if you were bitten by a dog as a child, you’d always kind of have that fear. I know it…”

“Where’s Eric?” Nancy scanned the room. Drew and Constance had just walked in with Rose but not Eric.

Tim gripped Nancy’s hand tight and seemed to sniff the air, sensing. “Not here.”

* * *

Rose had dreamed about riding to the prom since she was a little girl. The reality wasn’t quite like she had imagined. Her heart was with Eric. He would not have left her right before the prom unless it had been important. She knew that. They had only been together for about a month, but she was sure how he felt about her. The look on his face when he told her he couldn’t go... it was something important, but terrible, too.

Drew and Constance didn’t make things easy either. Rose explained Eric’s absence with the flat-tire thing, but she knew they didn’t buy it.

“Where’d they breakdown?”

“How’d they forget the jack?”

“Why’s Eric gotta help them on prom night?”

Eventually, they yielded. Then they started feeling each other up again. Rose still couldn’t believe that Constance’s dress was see-through. She was looking at her bare midriff the whole damn limo ride. That wasn’t what Drew was looking at—no, he had his eyes on the two powdered rolls squeezing out of the top of Constance’s dress. And her damn midriff... it didn’t even pucker when she sat; it just wrinkled. Rose’s midriff was flat, but it still pooched out when she sat. How the hell did Constance do that? It wasn’t even from working out. She was too lazy.

God! What am I thinking about while Eric is in danger?

Rose occupied herself with internal reproach the whole way to the hotel. She hoped that Eric would be there when they arrived. It was a trick. He was going to surprise her with a big bouquet of flowers.

But when they pulled in front of the hotel, there was no Eric. Nothing except for some other limos, some regular cars, and a smattering of prom attendees congregating in the little groups for which that high schoolers and college freshman are known.

Safety in numbers...

Rose’s lip curled at the thought and she brushed a wisp of hair out of her eyes wishing so badly that Eric was with her—that he was anywhere but where he was.

The hotel was beautiful in the late-evening, May light. It wasn’t yet summer, so the sun was all but gone when they arrived, but it had painted the horizon with streaks of fire and periwinkle. It wasn’t too warm either; a slight chill in the air cooled Rose’s bare shoulders and back. It felt good.

A girly thought entered her head as she, Drew, and Constance entered the gorgeous hotel lobby: I’m attending my senior prom. A peculiar thought, given the circumstances, but Rose thought she was entitled. She was eighteen years old. Worry and fear should have to wait until tomorrow.

They wouldn’t, but she could wish.

There was an actual elevator attendant on the ride up to the ballroom—a guy who pushed the buttons for them. Since it wasn’t 1939 anymore with those old manual elevators that had levers, Rose supposed this was just an example of the hotel’s opulence.

The elevator doors opened into a wide hallway across which large wooden doors were propped open allowing a view into the ballroom. The D.C. skyline looked bright from inside the elevator and Rose could only imagine how magnificent it would look from the observation deck. A few of the waiters passed by and eyed her. She might have been more weirded out by it on any other day, but not on prom night.

Every feeling she had was tempered by worry for Eric. Damn him. This was supposed to be a night to remember. She chuckled later when she saw the banner. And all at once, Rose wondered if she could live this kind of life—waiting, wondering, and worrying about where Eric was and what he was doing. The thought was premature, but she was a girl and thought ahead like that. Could she stay up late and wonder whether or not Eric was dead in some gutter somewhere? She didn’t know. But she knew that this night’s worries were taking a toll.

Eric’s parents rushed over. “Where’s Eric?” Nancy demanded. Rose jumped out of her skin.

“I thought he was with you,” Drew shot back. Then he looked at Rose.

“With us? Why would he be with us?” Nancy asked.

“Because Rose said that he had to help you fix a flat,” Drew turned on Rose. “Where’d he really go?”

Rose turned a bright red and her mouth hung open for a long time. Finally, she walked between Tim and Nancy and spun them around with her, taking them out of Drew and Constance’s range of hearing. “He told me he had to leave. He said it was about Jim.”

Nancy’s face tightened and her eyes shined with tears. Tim took a breath. “That’s it? He didn’t say anything else?”

“No. We were getting in the limo when he looked like he was gonna pass out. Then he told me to go ahead. He promised to be here,” Rose said.

Confronted with what Eric had told her, Rose found her own eyes were wet. It occurred to her that she should have tried to stop him. Faced with his parents, who looked terrified, Rose knew that was what she should have done. But she was too concerned with her perfect night.

Tim clutched at his forehead. It looked like he had just been hit with a headache eerily similar to the one Eric had gotten. Rose and Nancy both reached out to steady him.

“Are you okay?” Rose asked.

Tim looked at Rose with terror in his eyes. His mouth was open, but he wasn’t speaking. He grabbed Rose’s arm. “You have to leave, now.” He began walking her to the door.

Rose was too surprised to struggle, but Drew crossed in front of them. “Whoa, Mr. Steele, what’s going on? Where’s Eric?”

“Not now, Drew, we have to get you all home.” Tim started hustling towards the oak doors.

Tim felt something hard and metal press into his back.

“Do. Not. Move. Take your hands off the girl. Slowly,” a voice whispered into Tim’s ear.

Tim cocked his head and saw that one of the waiters had a gun pressed into Nancy’s side too. Nancy looked at Tim with fear in her eyes. But he knew that it wasn’t about him or herself. She knew, as he did, who these men were and what they were after.

“Hey, man...” Tim began, “let these kids go, huh?”

The man smiled—Tim heard it in his tone. “Can’t do that. We need the girl. And havin’ you won’t hurt, neither. Let’s step out into the hall, sir.”

Tim gritted his teeth. He wanted to tear this asshole in half. But he’d get himself shot dead. And then what? Would they kill everyone?

A few other waiters grabbed Drew and Constance and brought them along, too. The man with the voice pushed Tim, Nancy, and Rose into the hall where a small band of other waiters were standing. Their guns were discreet, held low.

“Mrs. Steele... I see you recovered nicely from the circumstances of your pregnancy...”

That voice…

Tim’s eyes went wide.

The Colonel walked out from the group of “waiters.” Tim and Nancy were paralyzed as he approached. They knew him from another life. Another time.

The Colonel stepped into the light, finally, illuminated all at once—almost as though it was his will that had cloaked him in shadows all this time. He hadn’t always lived in the dark. He had been a doctor once. Back then, he went by the name Dr. Smithe.

Nancy tried backing away—an instinct she couldn’t ignore—but the “waiter” held her in place. The man who murdered Sarah over the course of sixteen painful years advanced on her. His eyes were alive with elation. A lifetime of waiting, of planning, was finally fulfilled.

“You sonofabitch!” Tim launched himself at the Colonel. The guard behind him barely grabbed Tim’s tuxedo jacket in time. He rapped Tim on the back of the head with the butt of his pistol. Tim went down in a heap, seeing stars and black hands ripping at the edges of his vision.

Rose and Constance screamed. Drew made a move on Tim’s guard and was met with a similar result as Tim. Drew clutched the back of his head and dazedly pushed up from the floor. “What the fuck?”

The scuffle did not go unnoticed. Another scream echoed from inside the ballroom. Someone had heard Rose and Constance and seen Tim and Drew go down. Most of the waiters in the hall shuffled into the ballroom with their MP5s raised. The single scream was joined by a chorus of others and shouts of surprise.

The Colonel shook his head, faux disappointed. “Aw, you ruined the surprise, guys.”

He knelt down in front of Tim, drawing shadows back into the creases of his face like a mask. “Guess the cat’s out of the bag, Mr. Steele.” The Colonel raised his right arm and held it out for Tim to see; then he removed his black glove. He revealed a fake hand with a metallic finish. “Do you know how much it hurts to lose a hand, Mr. Steele?” He backhanded Tim in the side of the head, knocking back to the floor.

Nancy cried out and the Colonel’s good hand snapped out and gripped her neck. “Don’t feel sorry for him, Nance. Because I’m just gonna put a bullet in the back of your heads. But not before I rip your son’s back open and suck every drop of Titan out of him. And guess what? You’re going to watch. If I have to cut off your eyelids, you’re going to watch.”

Nancy spit in the Colonel’s eye.

He winced. “You bitch.”

The hallway shuddered and a presence too imposing to not be seen appeared, framed by the entrance to the kitchen:

Bone.

Rose pulled back against the guard holding her to get away from him. Drew was out of it, but he, too, tried sliding back as a reflex. Constance cried, begging to be let go.

Tears ran down Nancy’s face as she looked up at the monstrosity she used to know. “Jim... Jesus...”

“Bone, Mrs. Steele,” the beast croaked. His voice was a grumble of anger. “That’smy name now.”

The Colonel smiled. “Oh, right. Before I rip God’s happy juice out of your boy, Bone here gets first crack at him.”

“God, Jim, why are you helping them? Eric’s your friend! We love you like you’re our own son!” Nancy said.

Bone’s twisted snarl of a skeleton face leaned over Nancy. “DON’T SAY THAT TO ME. He lied to me. All of you did. And my family is dead.”

A few gunshots rang out in the ballroom and Rose cried out, her bright cheeks stained with tears. More shouts and scuffling broke out, but the Colonel kept his attention where it was. His men would handle the lambs in the other room. The Colonel had waited his whole life for this. It was perfect and only getting better. He drank greedily of every second of every moment that transpired.

Nancy shut her eyes, wishing she could close her ears to the sounds of struggle. Tears would have just been redundant. She stayed with Jim saying, “Eric didn’t know until he changed. We didn’t even know. This monster experimented on Sarah, but Timmy stopped him. We thought it died with her! We didn’t know!”

Bone’s craggily hand reached out and clutched the top of Nancy’s head like a basketball. He applied a bit of pressure; Nancy cried and struggled to break free. Bone seethed. “You’re lying!”

“He killed them, Jim! Put it where it belongs!” Nancy looked up at the eyes staring out of the living skull. That south-side-of-Buffalo toughness knotted up in Nancy’s gut. She stared into the eyes of the monster. They were Jim’s eyes. The only human thing left of him.

Bone hesitated and glanced at the Colonel, who couldn’t have been calmer. “Beth is all I have left, Mrs. Steele.”

The Colonel laughed. “Right! I forgot.” He motioned to someone out of sight in the service entryway. Beth McNulty shuffled from the door to the Colonel. She looked half asleep.

Nancy shook loose of Bone’s grasp and he let go. “She’s just a little girl!”

Drew’s head lolled as he climbed onto all fours. “Jim? Oh my God.”

Ignoring him, the Colonel’s eyes met Nancy’s. “You and I both know I don’t care about trifling matters like that.” He looked up at Bone. “And remember, Jimmy: you help us out and Beth is home free. Now, why don’t you go introduce yourself to your old classmates? Have some fun. I’m sure a few of them pissed you off.”

Bone lowered his gaze down at Drew. “You’re last. Right before Eric.” He hunched through the doorway into the ballroom and was met by a joined cry of terror from the assembled crowd. Nancy looked back at the Colonel, who was stroking Beth’s hair like one might stroke a pet. Nancy’s “Buffalo” roiled in the back of her throat again. “You’re gonna get yours.”

The Colonel held up his fake hand. “I already got mine. Your animal husband just didn’t finish the job. Now look at all these innocent people who are going to suffer.”

Nancy knew she was looking at pure evil. There was no doubt in her mind. She didn’t need superpowers to know it—her regular senses were good enough. All she could do was hope that Eric would stay away.

But she knew he wouldn’t.

* * *

The police blocked F Street. The Hotel Monaco was on the corner of F and 7th streets. Eric hit a wall of traffic when he turned off 14th Street onto F Street. Nothing moved. Since it was now dark, Eric could see the flickering red and blue lights five blocks away. He didn’t need Titan senses to tell him where those squad cars were set up.

“Shit.”

Hopefully, Titan would have something more. Eric looked around frantically. People and cars were everywhere. He wanted to become Titan and tear over the tops of the cars, but he had drawn enough attention today. The Virginia state police had almost arrived to the plane hangar, probably drawn by the plume of smoke, when he had merged back onto I-95 in his stolen Crown Vic.

Eric looked up the street and his eyes drifted up to where the police spotlights were pointing. Up. A thought he didn’t like much occurred to him. Eric dug into his pocket and came out with his prom ticket:

“Join us for Prom Night magic on the Hotel Monaco’s beautiful top-floor ballroom overlooking the National Mall skyline! Your life’s hopes and dreams await you! Say ‘hello’ to your future!”

“Ugh. An exclamation point after every line…” Eric muttered.

Top floor... This just started.

Even if he got out and ran up the block, the police wouldn’t let him in. And he wasn’t Batman—they weren’t going to invite Titan in. Eric looked to the top of the line of buildings leading up F Street toward the hotel—an obvious path that the police would not have coned off.

Obvious, right. Everybody would think to jump from rooftop to rooftop to reach the hotel.

Titan would.

He had to get up there and this was wasting time.

What about snipers set up on the next-door roof?

Eric’s TV-cop-show logic could not be denied. The police would want a view into the ballroom and that would be the best way to get it. He didn’t know they were there, but they would certainly notice the boy in the silver suit jumping across rooftops to the crime scene.

One problem at a time.

Eric took a slow breath. “Shit. Shit. Fuck.”

Super suit or not, Eric did not want to fall ten stories. He checked his cell phone again and thumbed the “5” key to speed dial his dad. This time it didn’t even ring; it went straight to voicemail.

“Shit, Dad.”

A squawk of worry pitched his voice. He heard it and was embarrassed by it all at once.

Man up. Enough pulling trucks and throwing bricks. No more annoying green demons and hippie vampires. It’s time.

Eric climbed out of the car and drew Titan from within. He could feel it now, simmering on his bones. It began to move throughout his body, surging inside until it crackled from his skin in rapid threads of metal and element—knotting, interlacing, and tightening into a second skin. Eric had breathed in and Titan breathed out.

A group of college students walking by on the sidewalk saw this happen from behind. “Oh, shit! It’s that guy from the news!” one of them pointing at Titan.

Titan gave them a quick salute. Then he launched into the air, over his car, and onto the side of the National Theater building. Instinctively, he knew to grow claws on his hands and feet. Titans before him must have scaled tall heights—his hands, feet, and knees were ridged with tiny burrs that grasped the concrete wall. Titan slammed into the fourth-floor layer of brick and dug his clawed fingers in. The National Theater building was built like a cake—layered brick and glass, brick and glass, all the way to the top. The brick sections protruded like balconies, but no regular person would go out on those narrow bastards. It made the climb to the top easier than Titan had hoped, but still Eric grew impatient inside. His parents and friends were in trouble. Currents of the dark source had been surging through his heart and mind all along the drive up, but now it was a steady stream that told him he was walking into a hornets’ nest.

About twenty yards from the top, Titan shaped a long strand of cable with a grappling hook on the end from his arm and swung it up and over the roof. When it locked in, Titan scrambled up.

Titan felt alive looking out over the city. For the first time since this whole mess began, Titan belonged. It might not have been the kind of belonging that Eric might have wanted, but he made his peace with it. Eric was Titan now.

The distance to the next building, the Warner Theater, was easily thirty to fifty yards away. But time was running out. He ran to the opposite side of the roof and sprinted back. His metal infused legs pumped like pistons and an inherent part of his mind, the force that had been Titan for all of history, knew to coil metal around the bones in his legs to spring the jump and soften the landing. Titan reached the end of the roof and sprang forward, into the air, over 13th Street. The Eric part of him was scared, but the Titan in him was exhilarated. The silvery shape landed on the roof of the Warner Theater with a roll, but still a good landing for a first try.

Titan continued leaping across rooftops until he arrived on top of the building at 8th and F streets, across from the hotel. The police lights shined up into the night sky with a bleary quality that queered the night air. He heard a helicopter in the distance and wondered if it was a police chopper on its way or the usual military crafts that ferried back and forth over the city.

The police snipers, as it turned out, sat on this roof shouldering rifles pointed over at the hotel’s top floor. Eric had never been to the Hotel Monaco, so Titan was momentarily in awe of the glassed-in rooftop ballroom. Ignoring, for the moment, how he would deal with the police, Titan considered how to approach the hotel; it was in the open and had a half-glassed-in observation area. The bad guys would see him coming.

I’ll have to come from the back of the building.

Titan dealt with the police snipers with as little force as possible. Then he wrapped them up in heavy chains and bound them together. They threatened arrest and pledged to find him, but Titan ignored them. He had work to do. After circling around the back of the hotel, where the occupants could not see out, Titan launched himself across the street and landed on his feet in a crouch. The Washington Monument loomed behind him lit by the moon.

Titan belly crawled to the edge of the solid part of the roof so he could look down through the glass. He peered over the edge. From his vantage point, all he could see was a podium, a DJ sound board, and part of the dance floor. Bone’s kidnappers were smart enough to keep the students and chaperones out of sight. They were also smart enough to stay out of sight themselves.

Titan flinched as a whip crack of darkness lashed his mind, but he had no time to react. The roof opened all around him and a monstrous skeleton arm groped through the opening and caught his leg. The arm dragged Titan down. The next few moments were a jumble of brief images and sounds. Brick, columns, tables, faces, screams, and an inhuman growl.

When Titan recovered, he was lying on a collapsed dining table in the center of the ballroom. Something shifted next to him and Bone roared into view. Titan tried to react, but the fall knocked the wind out of him and he was a step too slow. Bone’s craggily fist caught him square in the back and sent him spinning.

“Jim!” a voice called out. Frightened whispers and other voices hung over the room.

Titan climbed off of his hands and knees and sized up his opponent. Bone loomed over him by almost two feet and his broad, skeleton-armored shoulders were as wide as a refrigerator. Jim was gone. Bone remained.

Titan was more interested, however, in the man that called Jim’s name from the other end of the room. Channeling his connection to the Source, the man appeared in his like a column of absolute black. Nothingness. Pure evil.

The man behind all of this stood in the doorway of the ballroom. Tim, Nancy, Rose, Drew, and Constance were to his side with guns trained on them. Tim’s face was bloody and Drew wobbled on his feet. The rest of Eric’s class was there, too, mouths agape at the scene unfolding in front of them—a sea of innocent faces at gunpoint.

“We’ve got him, there’s no need for that now,” the man said.

“Who are you?” Titan demanded.

“An old friend,” the man smiled casually as if they were talking over coffee. “I met your sister a long time ago.”

A memory that Eric never had flashed before his eyes.

A man in a lab clutching a bleeding nub of an arm. Screaming. Seething.

Titan knew this man. The man behind all of it. Not just Jim, but Sarah, too. He knew it like he had been there. Titan had been there, only it had been worn by his father then. Echoes of his grandfather reverberated in his heart as well.

“Now, if you’ll come with us, all of these nice folks can get on with their evening,” the Colonel said.

“You’ve made too big of a splash. You won’t leave anyone here alive. This was your last shot, wasn’t it? That’s why you came in here guns blazing,” Titan said. He kept a wary eye on Bone, who was like a rabid dog, seething on a leash.

“What’s to hide from anymore? You’re done,” Titan stalled. He needed to upset the balance. He needed some kind of distraction. He was the only bulletproof person in the room.

“If you come with us, I promise none of these people will be hurt. And your friend gets his sister back,” the Colonel motioned to Beth standing off to the right side.

“That’s NOT what you promised me,” Bone rasped. “You said I got to do it.”

“Bone, this is what we want. This way none of these nice people have to be hurt… right, Titan?” The Colonel spoke fast and gestured to the “waiters” holding Eric’s parents and Rose off to the side. He pointed to one man who knelt down and reached into a black bag that was sitting at his feet.

“He must pay for this,” Bone glared at Titan. The “waiter” to which the Colonel motioned removed a big gun from the bag. But as any fan of Terminator 2: Judgment Day would know, which Eric was, the gun was actually an M79 grenade launcher. The man aimed at Bone.

Titan moved fast. “Wait, don’t!”

He shoved Bone out of the way. Titan’s arm came up and hurled a spinning metal “T” that caught the gunman in the arm, redirecting the soldier’s aim up and into the ceiling. The weapon erupted and blew a hole in the ceiling about a yard across. The hazy night shone through, indifferent.

Bone backhanded Titan across the ballroom, sending him into one of the pillars and smashing the pillar in two. Titan disappeared in the burst of dust and column pieces. Not the distraction Titan would have personally chosen, but those were the breaks.

Tim seized his opportunity. He slammed his head back into the nose of the guard holding a gun on him. The guard clutched his face and Tim wrestled with him for the gun. The other guards took aim, but hesitated when Tim wrestled the guard into the Colonel’s path. These two actions, Titan saving Bone and Tim turning on his captor, set in motion a series of events that no one but God could have foreseen.

The Source is not a power that only belongs to Titan. Everyone and everything is joined with The Source. Some call it conscience. Some call it intuition. Some even call it the Will of God. But whatever it’s called, every human being is joined to the unending river of The Source. Few can consciously access it like Titan can, but on those occasions when someone looks in the right place at the right time, it is not always luck or coincidence. Sometimes you can tap into The Source. And sometimes a greater force is at work.

Will Coulier, from Eric’s lunch table, had been covered by one of the guards now trying to shoot Tim Steele. He had a sense that he should turn around and when he did, he saw the guard distracted by the scuffle between Titan and Bone at the head of the room. Glancing around at the rest of the room, he noticed that all of the other guards were also looking away from the students standing only feet from them. Their attention was diverted.

John Stanton was nearby, holding his date behind him, observing the same thing. Will and John shared a quick look. They understood each other.

Will turned on the guard behind him and pushed his gun so it was aimed at the other guard behind John and his date. He fingered the trigger before the guard could react and the gun fired, catching John’s guard in the side and neck. John’s guard dropped without a sound. Will’s opponent, now engaged, ran a stiff elbow into Will’s temple, knocking him off balance. But Will held on to the gun with his life. John shoved his date to the floor and charged at Will and the guard, taking both of them down in a tumble. With the guard’s arms pinned between the gun and Will, John straddled Will’s back and landed a flurry of punches to the guard’s head.

Throughout the room, students, parents, and teachers alike took advantage of the distracted, outnumbered “waiters.” The Colonel’s men had lost control. They should have heeded event planning coordinator Tony Frank’s motto of “preparation.”

The guards didn’t know where to focus. On Titan? On Tim Steele? On Bone? They looked in all directions, seeing nothing but waves of “hostages” swarming them. The final stroke in the hostages’ favor was when Father Cook broke a plate across a “waiter’s” face and wrestled his gun away. The ballroom dissolved into chaos. Using military washouts and back-benchers had finally proved fatal for the Colonel.

The Colonel’s dark eyes went wide with disbelief.

No… not like this! It’s not over yet!

He snatched up Beth McNulty and retreated into the hallway. Bone moved to follow him when the broken pillar pieces moved. Titan rose from the debris.

“Jim!” Titan roared.

Bone’s head click-clacked in Titan’s direction. His mouth, forever smiling the cruel grin of death, opened with hot rage and shouted, “Stay dead!”

Bone stormed across the ballroom, alive with fighting, and approached his opponent. Titan didn’t wait. He sprang off his feet and touched down on the dance floor, holding his ground. “Remember: you wanted this.”

Bone slammed several tables out of his way to reach Titan. The broken pieces shattered through the ballroom’s glass walls and doors, hitting the Colonel’s men and party-goers alike. He knew Beth was in danger, but the white hot furnace in his heart steered him at Titan—everything else forgotten.

They met in the middle. Titan versus Bone.

Eric versus Jim. For the last time.