by Seth Jacob
Chapter 7: The Titanson
If you think going to the gym is intimidating, try going to a superhero gym. 100 Ton Gym was the kind of place where the average bench press weight was roughly equal to that of a midsize SUV. If you were running on one of the treadmills, it’s likely that the person next to you would be clocking in at just under the speed of sound. I worked out at 100 Ton Gym for a month without seeing a single sign of the superhuman cage fighting that Dr. Delusion claimed was underneath the place. The only thing that I discovered was that superheroes take their work out routines a little too seriously.
After a month, my life had pretty much returned to normal, or as normal as it could be when a couple times a week I’d be fist fighting with crazies like Master Boson. I had stopped going to 100 Ton Gym in the hopes of discovering this underground super fighting ring that Dr. Delusion told me about, and I was actually there on this particular night because I genuinely liked working out there. It wasn’t the nicest place. Beyond Man’s franchise of gyms for superhumans, “Extradimensional Fitness,” was much cleaner, had more staff, more advanced equipment, and a delightful juice bar, but it was a little too sterile for me. 100 Ton gym had character. It had this weird vibe that hit you when you walked through the doors, this feeling that superhumans had been coming there since the superhero boom of the 60’s, and you could sense the history in the air. Or maybe it was just the mild stink of half a century of super-sweat.
I walked into the gym that night with no real intention of finding out information on a hypothetical cage fighting ring or my father’s trophy room box. It had been a slow couple of days for crimefighting, and I just wanted to get in a little exercise rather than sit around reading internet comments about myself. I pushed through the doors of 100 Ton Gym and walked through the entrance hall that had ancient carpeting, and wallpaper that had been peeling off the walls since before I was born.
The hallway walls were lined with old framed pictures of superheroes who used to be regulars at the gym. There was a funny photo from the 70’s of Doc Hyper standing next to a treadmill that he accidentally tore to pieces with his super speed. There was a photo of Queen Quantum in the 60’s before she was a founding member of the Superb 6 and she was still an up and coming superheroine. She was smiling for the camera and lifting a three ton weight on her pinky with her strong force manipulation power. There was even a picture of Jack Titan with his arm slung around the owner of 100 Ton Gym. The place could use an interior decorator and a serious remodeling, but it had a history that was appealing to me.
I noticed that there were a lot of superheroes in the gym that night as I made my way over to the rack of dumbbells. Crystallor was doing pull ups with multiple tons of metagravity weights strapped to his jagged legs, and the sound of his crystalline fingers crunching around the metal bar was like fingernails on a chalkboard. The Sci-Fighter was boxing a force field infused punching bag that lit up with energy each time his nanomachine powered fists struck it. I was surprised to see Anhur, a founding member of the Superb 6 and supposedly the Egyptian god of war, was doing clean and jerks in the corner. He was lifting a barbell that had an absurd amount of metagravity weights on it, simulating the force of at least 500 tons, and I had to wonder what a superhero of his caliber would be doing there. I hadn’t seen him there before, and it was unreal to actually see Anhur in person with his Egyptian, four feathered headdress, his fine, gold and blue linens wrapped around his waist like a skirt, and his “mystical” spear laying at his feet as he raised an insane amount of weight above his head.
I took off my costume jacket, and I stretched a little while trying very hard not to give away how star struck I was by Anhur. Then, I picked a metagravity dumbbell up off of the rack that simulated about a ton, and I started doing curls with it. I was focused on keeping the proper form while curling roughly 2000 pounds of artificial weight, just watching my arm in one of the mirrors to make sure I was executing the super strength curl correctly, and I almost dropped the dumbbell when I saw something strange behind me. Forcing myself to act calm, I stopped curling the metagravity dumbbell, and I gently put it back on the rack while I watched in the mirror. I pretended to admire my bicep in the mirror, but I was actually using the mirror to observe something behind me that I hadn’t seen in the month I had been working out there.
I saw five superheroes walk out of the office of the gym…but it was a tiny, cramped office, and there was no way that all five of these spandex meatheads could have all fit into that little room. They were laughing as they filed out of the office. One of them had a bleeding split lip, and another had used his cape as a sling for a broken arm. The five of them looked like they had just gotten into a fight with The Abnormalite, but they weren’t acting like it. They were acting like little kids who just had a great time on the playground, and they were still brimming with energy and excitement from a particularly rousing game of dodgeball.
Anhur lowered the 500 ton metagravity barbell to the floor like it was made out of styrofoam. One of the five superheroes, the one with the split lip dripping blood down his chin, discretely whispered something to Anhur. Anhur let out a thunderous laugh, he picked up his spear, and he enthusiastically walked into the small office with a spring in his step. The five superheroes left, loudly giving each other shit and punching each other in the shoulders and generally annoying the superhuman patrons of the gym, and Anhur slammed the office door behind him.
I sat on a bench for a few minutes and stared at the door. I looked around at the other superheroes going through their meticulously planned workout routines. No one seemed to notice or care about the five superheroes who climbed out of that office like it was a clown car. No one showed any sign of concern that Anhur had disappeared into the same office. I made eye contact with Crystallor, and then I sort of nodded at the office door. Crystallor was taking a break in between sets and keeping track of his reps in a notebook, and he shrugged his quartz-like shoulders at me. He was the only person in the room who even came close to acknowledging that something weird just went down. The Millennials had teamed up with Crystallor a few times, so I felt comfortable getting up from the bench and going over to see if he knew what was up.
“Don’t even ask, Spectacle,” Crystallor dropped his notebook and got up from the titanium reinforced bench that was supporting his eight foot tall, massive mineralized body.
“I didn’t say anything yet, Crystallor,” I tried to keep my voice down as Crystallor slid 50 tons of metagravity weights onto a barbell.
“C’mon bro…leave me alone…I don’t want to…start any…shit!” Crystallor talked to me while squatting with 50 tons on his glittering, crystal shoulders.
“Crystallor, bro, level with me…” Crystallor finished his set of squats and glared at me as he lowered the barbell off of his shoulders.
“…is this that underground fighting thing I heard—”
“Heh, no I haven’t heard if anyone good is playing tonight at the Domino Mask.” Crystallor loudly interrupted me, and he nervously glanced around us to make sure that no one heard me. Then, he motioned for me to sit down with him on the bulky titanium bench. He opened up his workout notebook and pretended to show me the details of his routine.
“Look…we got a good thing going on here, and I can get you in, but you gotta be cool. This deal isn’t exactly legal, Spectacle,” Crystallor murmured to me while pointing randomly at his chicken scratch records of reps and sets.
“You get me?” Crystallor slapped his notebook shut and stood up from the bench. He looked at me with concern, and his crystalline brow wrinkled like tectonic plates mashing together.
“I got you, I can be cool,” I stood up with him, and Crystallor led me over to the office door.
It seemed like most of the weightlifting crimefighters in the gym weren’t paying attention, and it occurred to me as I walked into the office with Crystallor that only a few of them must be aware of this secret arrangement. He shut the door behind us, and Anhur wasn’t ins
ide. Crystallor guided me through the small, seemingly normal but cluttered office to a closet door at the back of the room. He opened the closet door, and behind it was a dimly lit flight of stairs that led down beneath the gym. Crystallor went down first, I followed him and gently closed the closet door. His crystal body sparkled in the darkness of the staircase that only had a little bit of light seeping in through the crack of the closet door. We must have descended at least three floors into the ground before we reached a door at the bottom of the stairs. The door had a sign on it with a yellow and black nuclear radiation symbol on it. The sign had “Fallout Shelter” printed on it in thick capital letters.
“Alright. Just act like you’re supposed to be here.” Crystallor knocked on the door four times with his jagged, clear knuckles. He waited a moment, and knocked a fifth time.
Then, he opened the door, and we walked into a room packed with superheroes. It was a surprisingly big space with gray concrete walls, and there was a circular cage in the center of the room. Superheroes surrounded the ring in a multicolored sea of bright spandex, watching and cheering and screaming as Anhur and Photoneer fought inside the cage. Crystallor and I pushed through the crowds of superheroes to get a closer look, and I felt waves of force ripple outward from the ring with each super strength punch.
Photoneer floated a foot above the ground in front of Anhur. Photoneer, the “Master of Light,” was not in great shape. He looked like he had just gone twelve rounds with Anhur, but the so called god of war had gone down there only a few minutes ago. Photoneer was wobbling in the air as he hovered around Anhur. His gold and silver costume torn to shreds in what must have been an intensely one sided brawl, his golden gloves sheered away at the knuckles from punching invulnerable skin with enough force to shatter the face of a mountain, and it looked like a stiff breeze would be all Anhur would need to knock the punch drunk Master of Light out of the air. Photoneer pulled his radiant, light saturated fist back for a haymaker, and Anhur just swatted him to the ground with a flick of his spear. The light drained from Photoneer like a light bulb going out as he lost consciousness. The crowd of superheroes went absolutely ape shit.
Anhur threw his huge, brown arms into the air and screamed triumphantly. He stomped around the ring in a little victory lap, shaking his spear at the crowd vigorously, and his every pore was oozing swagger and confidence. A couple of superheroes dragged Photoneer out of the ring, and Anhur, who didn’t even look like his opponent had touched him with a single photon, strode out of the ring and into the mob of masked crimefighters. He was surrounded by the grumbles of losers who had bet on Photoneer and lost, and the frenzied excitement of those who had bet big on Anhur and won. Their faith in the alleged Egyptian god of war had been rewarded.
“Alright man. Try to mingle a bit, I’m gonna place a few bets. Daddy needs a new pair of shoes, and you would not believe how expensive crystal resistant size 25’s are.” Crystallor moved his way through the crowd, shook Anhur’s hand and congratulated him on his win, and then the two of them made their way to Silver Scribe.
Apparently, he was doing the bookkeeping for this highly illegal superhuman fighting ring. I saw him furiously writing in his glowing Hyper-Tome, and then he handed a fat wad of cash to Anhur. Anhur stuffed the money into the blue and gold fabric wrapped around his waist, and he spoke to Crystallor for a second. Crystallor raised an angular eyebrow while Anhur talked to him, and then he looked at me while he responded to him. Anhur chuckled, he turned away from Crystallor while he talked to Silver Scribe about arranging his next fight, and then Anhur started walking directly towards me.
“You! Boy! My condolences!” Anhur put a hand on my shoulder, and I was almost in shock that he was actually talking to me.
“Your…uh, I’m sorry, for what?”
“For your father’s death…you are the Spectacle, yes? The Titanson?” Anhur frowned in confusion, and his Pharaoh-like, black beard shifted with his facial expression. I couldn’t help but laugh at the word “Titanson.”
“Heh, yeah, yeah I guess I am the Titanson. Yeah, my dad was Jack Titan.”
“Ultra Lady mentioned your name to me at the most recent gathering of the Superb 6. He was a great man, your father. I have no doubt that Anubis will weigh his heart in the Underworld, and he shall find it balanced with Ma’at, the feather of truth.”
“Uh, right. Whatever you say. I mean, thank you, I appreciate the kind words.”
“You doubt me, boy?” Anhur’s eyes blazed at me. He did not look happy with my less than enthusiastic answer.
“No….well, kind of. I don’t really believe in, you know, the underworld, or gods.”
“Excuse me? You don’t believe in gods? You are speaking to the god of war, boy! You are addressing Anhur, the Slayer of Enemies! Anhur, the Sky Bearer! Your very father was descended from the Titans themselves!” Anhur was fuming now. His body language became extremely aggressive, and honestly, he was scaring the shit out of me.
“…I don’t want to be disrespectful or anything, we don’t have to talk about this…if you knew my dad, actually I’d love to ask you about him—”
“Titanson, do not change the subject. You cannot insult me to my face and then switch to the paltry small talk of tiny minds. Tell me true…what is this no gods nonsense of yours?”
“I mean…what can I say, I don’t believe in gods, I don’t believe in heaven or hell. No disrespect intended, but personally, I don’t think you’re really the Egyptian god of war.”
“Oh? Then what am I? No, really, boy, tell me. Do not coat it in sweet sugars.”
“I think you’re just some Egyptian guy who took SUHP and unlocked an enormous genetic potential for superhuman ability. I mean I get it, I’ve read the articles about you, I know that you do this whole ancient god of war character, and it’s a great marketing strategy. I dunno, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you really are thousands of years old, but I’m pretty sure you’re just a dude from Cairo who happens to be genetically gifted with an insane amount of superhuman power. Again, I’m not trying to be disrespectful, this is just what I believe.”
Anhur was taken aback. He didn’t know what to say to me, and he looked like he wanted to jab that spear of his straight through my heart. Some superheroes around us looked uneasy and tried to pretend like they weren’t listening to our conversation. A space around us cleared as a lot of nearby superheroes decided that it was an excellent time to get in line to talk to Silver Scribe about placing their next bets. I was sweating bullets, but what can I say? He asked. I even tried to change the subject.
“You dishonor your father greatly, boy. Jack Titan was descended from the mighty Titans! He carried on a legacy established by his forebearer Prometheus! He was a man of honor! We fought many battles together! He was like a brother to me…and you not only besmirch me, Anhur, the god of war, but you spit on the memory of your own father?”
“It’s not like that, I’m pretty sure that my dad didn’t think he was related to actual Titans, I think it was just like a cool theme that he ran with…don’t take it personally Anhur, really, I’m a huge fan of yours—” Anhur raised a hand in my face and cut me off mid-sentence.
“Boy, you are no Titanson. No son of Jack Titan, the Man of Myth, would be so insolent, so…dishonorable. And look at you…Jack Titan was a man, a man who would make his Titan ancestors proud. He was the spitting image of Atlas. You? You’re just a weaselly little child.”
Anhur took a final look at me and scowled like I was a bag of flaming shit that he had just found on the front porch of his pyramid. He turned away from me, and I still can’t believe I was stupid enough to do this, but I grabbed him by the arm.
“Release me, or I swear by the burning light of Ra that I will pound that hand into a fine paste,” Anhur whirled around and his eyes were filled with such an intense rage that there was no doubt in my mind that he would follow through on his threat, and I let go of his arm…but I just couldn’t let go of my stupid search for information on my d
ad.
“Sorry, I just…you said you knew my dad really well? I’ve been sort of trying to find out about his superhero career, like the places he hung out and the people he knew, and a box of his stuff was stolen, and well, anything you could tell me might help…”
Anhur smiled at me, and somehow his smile was even scarier than his wrath-filled glare.
“You want me to tell you about your father? I don’t even believe that you are Jack Titan’s son! Why should I waste one minute of my immortal life speaking with some illegitimate bastard boy who insults my divinity and the titanic blood of my fallen friend?”
“…Anhur, please. I don’t know what to say…I’m just asking for a little information, he was my dad and, you know, you keep talking about honor…I’m trying to honor him. I want to take back a box that was filled with his life’s work. I want to find the son of a bitch who stole it and beat the shit out of him. You can understand that, right?”
Anhur stroked his black, conic beard. He looked away from me and at the empty ring in the middle of the room, and then he looked back at me with that terrifying, broad smile.
“Let us strike a bargain, boy. You prove to me that you are truly the Titanson, and I shall tell you everything that you could want to know, and more.”
“Come on, what do you want from me? You want to go do a blood test? How can I prove that I’m really Jack Titan’s son?”
Anhur looked at the ring, and he nodded his four feathered headdress in its direction.