HOME | DD

Description
The Titan

Chapter Two: First Meeting With the Professor

When DeFoe opened his eyes, it seemed like no time had passed; the room was completely dark. His head and back ached badly. What had happened? As he shifted, he became aware of his surroundings; he was lying on a stainless steel operating table, covered up to his chin with a scratchy woolen blanket. A bag of yellow fluid hung on a metal coat rack and a tube left it and disappeared underneath the covers. He slowly pulled the covers back, revealing the needle taped into his arm.

Did Grier really hurt me that badly; did someone find me? He thought. But this room didn't look like an ordinary hospital. For one thing, he was the only patient. Also, there were no doctors around. The dark room was cluttered with books and other than the trays of sharp surgical tools lying around, the bag of fluid and the operating table, it looked very much like a basement. In fact, it looked much like the basement in the Organization's headquarters.

A door opened in the darkness, letting a square ray of white light fall across him. He squinted to see who stood in the doorway.

"It looks like he's awake." One of the two people in the doorway said.

"Bring him to the Professor at once." The other one, a Russian by his accent, commanded and left.

The man complied and entered the room.

"Up and at 'em, DeFoe," the man, a suit by the look of him, said as he approached.

In other circumstances, he would have challenged his authority, since a suit had no right to order him, who had been much more important to the Organization than any of the suits had dared dream of, but DeFoe was so confused, that he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the table. It was then that he noticed his bare chest had been wrapped in gauze. The suit approached him, detached the IV needle and tied the wound with a strip of bandage.

"What is going on?" DeFoe asked.

"The Professor wants to see you," the suit replied curtly, helping him to stand. Once he had his balance, the suit left him and walked ahead. "Get the rest of your clothes on. You are now the Professor's most prized possession."

As much as he liked the idea, the circumstances made him suspicious. "What does that mean?" he demanded as he stumbled painfully over to the table where his folded shirt, jacket and glasses were set. The suit ignored him and continued towards the doorway. DeFoe shakily pulled his shirt over his head, slipped his arms through his coat and put on his glasses.

"What does that mean!" He repeated, staggering towards the door. Suddenly, bile rose in his throat and, quickly grabbing the wastebasket by the doorway, emptied what was left of his dinner into it. When he did, fiery pain shot between his shoulder blades.

"The Professor does not like to be kept waiting," the suit said, grabbing him by the arm and leading him down the brightly lit hallway. DeFoe shielded his adjusting eyes from the glare.

He was led up stair after stair, having to stop often, until they reached the Professor's private room at the top of the building. Two suits stood guard outside the closed door. When they saw DeFoe, they stiffened.

"It's alright," the suit who had led DeFoe said. "The Professor called for him."

One of the suits nodded, opened the door and peered inside.

"Sir," he began.

"Yes?" The Professor called from inside. DeFoe was excited for a meeting with the Professor, but also afraid, given the rough treatment he had experienced from ordinary suits.

"DeFoe's here."

"Well, send him in, and stay out."

"Yes sir," the suit at the door replied. He grabbed DeFoe by the arm, pushed him inside and closed the door behind him.

DeFoe stumbled forward and felt sick to his stomach again. Not here; he begged his organs, Not in the Professor's personal quarters! It ended up being an idle threat and he stood upright as well as he could, the pain in his back now a constant throbbing.

"Come here, DeFoe," The Professor said.

No "Welcome, DeFoe"? No "How dare you, DeFoe"? What would the Professor say to him? DeFoe obeyed, careful to keep his balance. He glanced around the circular room. They were completely alone, except for the powerful Russian seeker, Rassimov, standing near the door, holding a man in street clothes. Stopping my escape. He realized, nervously. Not even Grier was there, the new head of the suits. What could be so secretive that he was not in on it?

DeFoe approached his desk and the Professor stood from his seat. "Give me your hand." He commanded. DeFoe obeyed. The Professor took it and looked into DeFoe's eyes. "It hasn't been damaged," he mentioned. DeFoe looked over his shoulder and saw the Russian nod. The Professor let go of his hand. "Now, I want you to use Ray Pulse at the wall."

DeFoe obeyed, though it wasn't his best.

"Now Poison Fang," he commanded.

He obeyed. The frightened man was dragged forward. "Erase his memory of what he has just seen," the Professor said.

DeFoe snapped his fingers and said, "Forget," weakly.

The man fell unconscious and Rassinov dragged him to the door and pushed him out into the hallway before closing the door and standing in front of it again. DeFoe was now thoroughly confused.

"His powers aren't very strong, but that could be because of his physical condition and will improve as he heals," the Professor noted.

Rassimov nodded and said, "There is no evidence that the operation did not succeed."

"What operation?" DeFoe asked, nervously.

"I suppose we'll see," the Professor said, moving away from his desk and approaching DeFoe. DeFoe had half a mind to run; what if Grier had heard him ranting to himself about stealing titans from the Organization and had told the Professor? It was a foolish plan, however, since he knew he would hardly make it to the door before he was captured again, if he could make it that far even. No doubt the Professor had at least three amulets on him.

"Emerge. Grifitus!" the Professor shouted.

DeFoe looked around, wildly, trying to see where the enemy titan was attacking from, but then something didn't feel right inside himself. The wound on his back began to burn white hot and his figure began to change. Large, feathery wings sprouted on his back and opened wide, his neck grew thicker and longer, and his face elongated into a beak. A lion's tale wrapped around him from behind and his body stretched and expanded, his feet growing into two golden lion's paws and his arms into thinner lion's forepaws, yet still keeping his fingers.

He was terrified, but he couldn't stop it and by the time he had finished transforming, he had forgotten about stopping it. He was someone else, or at least a part of him was. And more devoted to the Professor than even Grier.

The Professor was speechless with delight; he walked closer to DeFoe and held out his hand to touch his cheek.

"Careful, sir. He may be unruly. The titan is physically bonded to that rebel, DeFoe," the Russian warned.

"But in every way that counts, Grifitus is bonded to me and has been for over twenty years," the Professor countered.

"Yes, sir," Rassimov consented.

The Professor reached for his cheek and, without knowing why, DeFoe bent lower so he could reach it. He touched his beak and DeFoe wanted so badly to snap up his fingers, but he couldn't make himself do it.

"Now comes the real challenge," the Professor said. "Bright the target down!" he ordered Rassimov.

Rassimov shot Augerfrost at the latch on the ceiling that caused a wooden target to swing down into place.

The Professor pointed to it. "Fly up there and shoot it with one of your powers!" he commanded DeFoe.

DeFoe thrust into the air and soared about the room. He flew towards the target, held out a hand and a beam of Poison Fang demolished the target without DeFoe having to say a word, leaving nothing but the smoldering hinge and the acid-eaten debris filtering to the floor. He dropped lightly to the floor and faced the Professor.

The Professor flicked his wrist to make Grifitus retreat. DeFoe tightened and a terrible wind-like force poured inward from all over his body until the titan was completely absorbed into the amulet. DeFoe regained control of himself and once the tightness ceased, he fell limply to the floor, meaning to catch himself on his hands and knees but not having the strength to. He shakily pushed himself to his knees and tried to stand, but he lost his balance and fell to his knees again.

His hair stuck out in odd directions, his glasses were crooked on his face and his eyes were wild with fright and bewilderment. "Wha—?" he panted, "What have you done to me?"

"You have been bound to a titan in a way no seeker ever has," the Professor answered, coolly. "The amulet containing Grifitus is sautered to your backbone, safely inside your ribcage. The most secure guarding box and weapon all rolled into one. Let's see Dante Vale or anyone from the Huntik Foundation try to steal my amulets now."

This would be a serious blow against Dante Vale, DeFoe admitted. He had planned on stealing some amulets from the Organization anyway; now, one was laid in him that could not be taken away. Perhaps this was a good thing.

"It appears to have been a success, Professor," Rassimov said as he approached the two. DeFoe was finally able to stand, however uncertain it was.

"Yes," the Professor agreed, "I believe we should insert all of them right away."

All of them? DeFoe took a step back. "You— you're going to put more of those things inside me?" he asked, struggling to keep the shake out of his voice.

"As soon as possible. Which pretty much means now." He replied.

On cue, suits appeared out of nowhere and apprehended DeFoe by the arms and tied a gag around his mouth to keep him from using any spells. He struggled, but there was no fighting the whole group of them; he was being walked forcibly towards the door and, he suspected, back to the operating room in the basement.

"Don't fret, DeFoe," the Professor said, taking his seat behind his desk. "You fought for a permanent place in the Organization, and now you have it. You'll be working closer to me than just about anyone."

DeFoe stared anxiously over his shoulder at the Professor as he was muscled out of the door and down the hallway.

Description
The Titan

Chapter Two: First Meeting With the Professor

When DeFoe opened his eyes, it seemed like no time had passed; the room was completely dark. His head and back ached badly. What had happened? As he shifted, he became aware of his surroundings; he was lying on a stainless steel operating table, covered up to his chin with a scratchy woolen blanket. A bag of yellow fluid hung on a metal coat rack and a tube left it and disappeared underneath the covers. He slowly pulled the covers back, revealing the needle taped into his arm.

Did Grier really hurt me that badly; did someone find me? He thought. But this room didn't look like an ordinary hospital. For one thing, he was the only patient. Also, there were no doctors around. The dark room was cluttered with books and other than the trays of sharp surgical tools lying around, the bag of fluid and the operating table, it looked very much like a basement. In fact, it looked much like the basement in the Organization's headquarters.

A door opened in the darkness, letting a square ray of white light fall across him. He squinted to see who stood in the doorway.

"It looks like he's awake." One of the two people in the doorway said.

"Bring him to the Professor at once." The other one, a Russian by his accent, commanded and left.

The man complied and entered the room.

"Up and at 'em, DeFoe," the man, a suit by the look of him, said as he approached.

In other circumstances, he would have challenged his authority, since a suit had no right to order him, who had been much more important to the Organization than any of the suits had dared dream of, but DeFoe was so confused, that he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the table. It was then that he noticed his bare chest had been wrapped in gauze. The suit approached him, detached the IV needle and tied the wound with a strip of bandage.

"What is going on?" DeFoe asked.

"The Professor wants to see you," the suit replied curtly, helping him to stand. Once he had his balance, the suit left him and walked ahead. "Get the rest of your clothes on. You are now the Professor's most prized possession."

As much as he liked the idea, the circumstances made him suspicious. "What does that mean?" he demanded as he stumbled painfully over to the table where his folded shirt, jacket and glasses were set. The suit ignored him and continued towards the doorway. DeFoe shakily pulled his shirt over his head, slipped his arms through his coat and put on his glasses.

"What does that mean!" He repeated, staggering towards the door. Suddenly, bile rose in his throat and, quickly grabbing the wastebasket by the doorway, emptied what was left of his dinner into it. When he did, fiery pain shot between his shoulder blades.

"The Professor does not like to be kept waiting," the suit said, grabbing him by the arm and leading him down the brightly lit hallway. DeFoe shielded his adjusting eyes from the glare.

He was led up stair after stair, having to stop often, until they reached the Professor's private room at the top of the building. Two suits stood guard outside the closed door. When they saw DeFoe, they stiffened.

"It's alright," the suit who had led DeFoe said. "The Professor called for him."

One of the suits nodded, opened the door and peered inside.

"Sir," he began.

"Yes?" The Professor called from inside. DeFoe was excited for a meeting with the Professor, but also afraid, given the rough treatment he had experienced from ordinary suits.

"DeFoe's here."

"Well, send him in, and stay out."

"Yes sir," the suit at the door replied. He grabbed DeFoe by the arm, pushed him inside and closed the door behind him.

DeFoe stumbled forward and felt sick to his stomach again. Not here; he begged his organs, Not in the Professor's personal quarters! It ended up being an idle threat and he stood upright as well as he could, the pain in his back now a constant throbbing.

"Come here, DeFoe," The Professor said.

No "Welcome, DeFoe"? No "How dare you, DeFoe"? What would the Professor say to him? DeFoe obeyed, careful to keep his balance. He glanced around the circular room. They were completely alone, except for the powerful Russian seeker, Rassimov, standing near the door, holding a man in street clothes. Stopping my escape. He realized, nervously. Not even Grier was there, the new head of the suits. What could be so secretive that he was not in on it?

DeFoe approached his desk and the Professor stood from his seat. "Give me your hand." He commanded. DeFoe obeyed. The Professor took it and looked into DeFoe's eyes. "It hasn't been damaged," he mentioned. DeFoe looked over his shoulder and saw the Russian nod. The Professor let go of his hand. "Now, I want you to use Ray Pulse at the wall."

DeFoe obeyed, though it wasn't his best.

"Now Poison Fang," he commanded.

He obeyed. The frightened man was dragged forward. "Erase his memory of what he has just seen," the Professor said.

DeFoe snapped his fingers and said, "Forget," weakly.

The man fell unconscious and Rassinov dragged him to the door and pushed him out into the hallway before closing the door and standing in front of it again. DeFoe was now thoroughly confused.

"His powers aren't very strong, but that could be because of his physical condition and will improve as he heals," the Professor noted.

Rassimov nodded and said, "There is no evidence that the operation did not succeed."

"What operation?" DeFoe asked, nervously.

"I suppose we'll see," the Professor said, moving away from his desk and approaching DeFoe. DeFoe had half a mind to run; what if Grier had heard him ranting to himself about stealing titans from the Organization and had told the Professor? It was a foolish plan, however, since he knew he would hardly make it to the door before he was captured again, if he could make it that far even. No doubt the Professor had at least three amulets on him.

"Emerge. Grifitus!" the Professor shouted.

DeFoe looked around, wildly, trying to see where the enemy titan was attacking from, but then something didn't feel right inside himself. The wound on his back began to burn white hot and his figure began to change. Large, feathery wings sprouted on his back and opened wide, his neck grew thicker and longer, and his face elongated into a beak. A lion's tale wrapped around him from behind and his body stretched and expanded, his feet growing into two golden lion's paws and his arms into thinner lion's forepaws, yet still keeping his fingers.

He was terrified, but he couldn't stop it and by the time he had finished transforming, he had forgotten about stopping it. He was someone else, or at least a part of him was. And more devoted to the Professor than even Grier.

The Professor was speechless with delight; he walked closer to DeFoe and held out his hand to touch his cheek.

"Careful, sir. He may be unruly. The titan is physically bonded to that rebel, DeFoe," the Russian warned.

"But in every way that counts, Grifitus is bonded to me and has been for over twenty years," the Professor countered.

"Yes, sir," Rassimov consented.

The Professor reached for his cheek and, without knowing why, DeFoe bent lower so he could reach it. He touched his beak and DeFoe wanted so badly to snap up his fingers, but he couldn't make himself do it.

"Now comes the real challenge," the Professor said. "Bright the target down!" he ordered Rassimov.

Rassimov shot Augerfrost at the latch on the ceiling that caused a wooden target to swing down into place.

The Professor pointed to it. "Fly up there and shoot it with one of your powers!" he commanded DeFoe.

DeFoe thrust into the air and soared about the room. He flew towards the target, held out a hand and a beam of Poison Fang demolished the target without DeFoe having to say a word, leaving nothing but the smoldering hinge and the acid-eaten debris filtering to the floor. He dropped lightly to the floor and faced the Professor.

The Professor flicked his wrist to make Grifitus retreat. DeFoe tightened and a terrible wind-like force poured inward from all over his body until the titan was completely absorbed into the amulet. DeFoe regained control of himself and once the tightness ceased, he fell limply to the floor, meaning to catch himself on his hands and knees but not having the strength to. He shakily pushed himself to his knees and tried to stand, but he lost his balance and fell to his knees again.

His hair stuck out in odd directions, his glasses were crooked on his face and his eyes were wild with fright and bewilderment. "Wha—?" he panted, "What have you done to me?"

"You have been bound to a titan in a way no seeker ever has," the Professor answered, coolly. "The amulet containing Grifitus is sautered to your backbone, safely inside your ribcage. The most secure guarding box and weapon all rolled into one. Let's see Dante Vale or anyone from the Huntik Foundation try to steal my amulets now."

This would be a serious blow against Dante Vale, DeFoe admitted. He had planned on stealing some amulets from the Organization anyway; now, one was laid in him that could not be taken away. Perhaps this was a good thing.

"It appears to have been a success, Professor," Rassimov said as he approached the two. DeFoe was finally able to stand, however uncertain it was.

"Yes," the Professor agreed, "I believe we should insert all of them right away."

All of them? DeFoe took a step back. "You— you're going to put more of those things inside me?" he asked, struggling to keep the shake out of his voice.

"As soon as possible. Which pretty much means now." He replied.

On cue, suits appeared out of nowhere and apprehended DeFoe by the arms and tied a gag around his mouth to keep him from using any spells. He struggled, but there was no fighting the whole group of them; he was being walked forcibly towards the door and, he suspected, back to the operating room in the basement.

"Don't fret, DeFoe," the Professor said, taking his seat behind his desk. "You fought for a permanent place in the Organization, and now you have it. You'll be working closer to me than just about anyone."

DeFoe stared anxiously over his shoulder at the Professor as he was muscled out of the door and down the hallway.