Titan

When You Hear the Music...

Titan didn't let Eric hold him back anymore.

He was in this fight to win. Eric gave in and embraced the power and instinct thrumming in his veins. He had trained with his father, Titan before him, to strengthen and hone his abilities. He was full-on Titan now and that's how he fought. Standing broad shouldered and staring his opponent in his lifeless eyes, Eric Steele stood as Titan with the sum of all Titans that had come before him welled up inside.

Bone attached with rage and power. He launched haymakers which Titan deftly dodged. Titan whirled back on his hands and launched himself, feet first, into Bone's chest. The blow knocked Bone back a few steps, but he was otherwise unfazed.

Titan sized up the situation in a matter of milliseconds like Eric always did when he was just a Regular Joe: Bone was big, powerful, armored, heavy, pissed off, and moved better in his skin (so to speak) than before. Titan then compared those attributes with his own in the same span of time: small, fast, strong, accurate, driven, and he had an untold arsenal of moves inside begging to be used. Plus, with his parents and friends in the balance, there was something for which to fight. Bone's motivation was more toxic: blind rage and hate. All variables considered, Titan decided to start hitting Bone and see what came of it.

Bone walked into a flurry of punches. Titan struck and jived—his position always changing, always moving. His blows drove Bone back and cracked bones here and there, but the hits were just pissing Bone off. Titan's fists grew thick with metal; his fingers became jagged brass knuckles. He peppered Bone in the chest and stomach, rending and chopping boned armor across his torso. Bone reacted to this with a thick, gurgling roar and caught Titan by the arm in a swinging punch. With a hearty tug, Bone loosed Titan right off his feet and slammed him through the podium at the head of the dance floor and through the DJ's equipment. Red and black exploded in Titan's vision and he struggled to free himself from Bone's grip, which was, sorry to say, rock hard.

"You little shit!" Bone cackled with dry, lifeless laughter. Causing pain was the only pleasure he had left. Titan grappled with the hold on his arm, bracing for impact with anything and everything the big bastard could find to hit him against—tables, columns, the floor, and, of course, the walls.

Moves I don't even know...

Titan couldn't think of a move to get out of this, but Tim always taught him: fight to win. With his free hand, Titan formed a dagger like an ice pick and jammed it in Bone's arm as deep as it would go.

"RRhhaaaaa!" Bone threw Titan away and yanked the pick out of his arm. A jet of viscous scarlet blood erupted from the wound. Those rocky bones protected vulnerable muscle and organs.

Titan crashed through a few tables and people before his inertia was cut by physics and he skidded to a stop. He climbed to his feet and noticed that his suit was slick with blood. His blood comingled with the fibers of metal extending from his pores. Eric was truly joined with Titan.

On Titan's left, two students, John from lunch and a thick, football player-type, were whaling on one of the soldiers and trying to get his gun out of his hands. Another soldier broke out of the scrum he'd been in and raced to help his comrade. Titan dashed into the man's path and clotheslined him before he could intervene. Titan tossed the fallen man's gun to John. "Don't shoot the good guys."

John caught the gun and nodded to Titan, astonished. He held the gun on the waiter-soldier. "Ease up, bitch."

Titan saw his father and mother struggling with the big guard who had been holding them. Tim chopped him down with a couple good shots to the solar plexus, but he really ended things when he flash-jabbed the guy in the throat. The Colonel's goon gagged on his broken windpipe. Nancy pulled the gun out of his hands before he fell and threw the weapon to Tim. Father and son exchanged looks and Tim called out, "We're going after Smithe! Do your job."