"Tito, can you turn it into Maharlika's logo?" Dale exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
Ethan let out a long sigh, taking in the wide grin on his preteen nephew's face. With a few slow, deliberate sways of his fingers, he levitated the water from Dale's glass, shaping it into a stylish letter "M." "Alright, that's enough magic for now," he said, lowering his voice. "Finish your plate so you can squeeze in some playtime before your parents—"
The living room door creaked open, interrupting him. Jacob, Ethan's older brother, stepped in, instantly silencing the room. He shot Dale a blank stare before turning his weary gaze to Ethan. "Dale, go to your room. Now."
Dale nodded, offering Ethan a tight-lipped smile before quietly exiting the living room.
Ethan gently returned the water to his glass, then faced his brother, arms crossed and head bowed.
"What the hell is going on, Ethan?" Jacob whispered emphatically, hands planted firmly on his hips. "We talked about this—your ability."
"Your son was just bored. I granted his little request. I didn't do anything else," Ethan replied, exhaling heavily.
"This is the last time I want to see you entertaining my son with your powers, Ethan. Understood?" Jacob clarified, jabbing a finger toward Ethan's face. "I hope I've made myself as clear as day."
Ethan simply gazed back at his older brother.
Jacob sighed deeply. "I need some kind of acknowledgment that you understand what I'm asking, Ethan."
"Alright, alright," Ethan muttered through gritted teeth before quickly leaving the room and heading upstairs.
Jacob clicked his tongue, massaging his temples with his fingers. After shaking his head slightly, he began collecting the dirty dishes left behind by his brother and son.
Once upstairs, Ethan locked his bedroom door and flopped onto his bed, staring at the fluorescent lamp on the ceiling.
"Tito Tan…"
Ethan heard Dale's soft voice from outside his room.
"Dale, get a good night's sleep. It's a school night," he called out in a low, tired voice. As he heard Dale's footsteps retreating, he got up, stripped off his clothes, and faced the foggy mirror on his closet door. He examined his naked reflection, then, with a flick of his finger, sent beads of sweat floating off his body, shaping them into a sphere before tossing it out the window.
By eleven o'clock, the neighborhood had fallen silent. Fireflies flickered in the night sky, cicadas filled the air with their shrill chorus, and bats flitted through the darkness. Ethan was now dressed in dark attire: anchor-gray pants tucked into heavy combat boots, a sleeveless black shirt, an ivy cap perched on his head, and half-finger leather gloves. A black rubber domino mask was tied securely around his head. Gripping the metal pole outside his window, he jumped over the sill and slid down quietly.
After landing on the damp sidewalk, he walked briskly away from the house, his eyes scanning the rooftops of the buildings he passed, ears attuned to the quiet corners of the street, hands poised to detect any puddles.
His heart raced as he turned onto the adjacent street and spotted three teenage boys approaching, phones in hand.
"That's him."
"Let's go!"
"Sir, can we take pictures with you?"
"Um, what?" Ethan replied, bewildered, as he instinctively threw his arms around the two boys who had sidled up next to him, snapping photos. "Guys, what's going on?" he added when they didn't respond.
The boy in the skullcap grinned. "We're your fans, obviously," he said with a smirk.
"Fans?" Ethan chuckled, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah," another boy chimed in. "Mister—what's your monicker?"
"Monicker?" Ethan shook his head. "You've got the wrong guy. I'm not one of those superheroes you see on TV."
"But you're the superhuman who takes out aswangs, right?" the third boy said, holding up his phone to show a video clip of Ethan battling a tiyanak.
"You kind of wore me out, you son of a bitch," Ethan had said in the video.
"Oh, shit," he muttered under his breath.
"Shit indeed, Mister Waterdude," the skullcapped boy said, excitement bubbling in his voice. "You've gone viral on all the platforms, especially Schmooze!"
"Kuya will definitely see this," he added, as the three teenagers continued snapping pictures and recording videos.
Suddenly, a piercing shriek echoed through the streets. Ethan looked up to see a manananggal swooping down toward them.
"Time to run, guys!" he shouted, watching as the boys' jaws dropped in shock.
They sprinted back the way Ethan had come, secretly filming him and the approaching winged creature.
Ethan sneered at the oncoming aswang, lifting the puddles from the street toward him. "Come here, you fetus-eating freak," he growled, shaping the murky liquid into a long rope.
As the shrieking manananggal entered his two-meter range, he hurled the liquid rope at her. The knotted end wrapped around her trunk. With a swift motion, he yanked her down, sending her crashing onto the concrete sidewalk. The aswang screeched as Ethan approached, crushing her bat-like wings with a single step.
"What now, missus?" he said sarcastically, pushing his lip out. "Where's that bravado you had up in the air, huh?"
A tear rolled down the manananggal's left cheek, and Ethan smirked.
"What the hell is this?" he rolled his eyes, tightening the liquid rope around her flesh. He dragged the now whimpering creature into the shadows, between a building and a stack of hollow blocks.
"Cool."
Ethan turned to see one of the boys still recording him, a wide grin on his face. "You son of a—" he started, then warned, "Hey, kid, you better skedaddle back to wherever you came from and watch your favorite shows, or I'll roast you alive and feed you to this tick I'm carrying."
The boy lowered his phone, eyes wide, then bolted into the darkness.
"Social media kids," Ethan muttered, shaking his head. He turned back to the manananggal sprawled on the debris-strewn ground. "Let's get back to you, missus, and the messed-up race you belong to. Why do you keep coming out when there are superhumans like me roaming the night? Are you really that clueless?" He smiled as he slowly tore one of her wings from her back, eliciting a piercing screech. "We could crush your bones with one fist."
He tossed the torn wing aside and did the same with the other one still attached to her bloodied back. "You guys really suck, don't you?" He then mentally pulled the blood from the manananggal's body, shaping it into a thin, sharp edge, which he used to slice her open slowly, the creature's shrill cries echoing through the night.
Once the manananggal was cut in half, her innards spilled onto the wet, blood-soaked ground, prompting Ethan to smile and chuckle.
He clicked his tongue, rising to his feet and glancing at the blood splattered on his boots and clothes. With a graceful flick of his hand, the blood vanished in an instant. He tossed it onto the dissected brain of the lifeless creature lying before him.
Just as he was about to leave the bloody scene, he heard a murmur from above. Looking up, he saw Lakas, a renowned and respected superhero, descending slowly.
Lakas's latex suit was inspired by the national flag of Kagitingan. The one-piece outfit hugged his muscular frame, adorned with a fawn-yellow belt and symmetrically divided: the right half navy-blue, the left half sangria-red. His elbow-length gloves and knee-high boots were powder-white, with yellow hems matching his belt. On his chest, a sun symbol was encircled by four small stars, also fawn-yellow.
Lakas was the second-in-command of Maharlika, the oldest and most powerful superhero team in Kagitingan's history. Known as the strongest fighter and fastest flier, he had been a public figure for over a decade. Maharlika, which he co-led, consisted of nine members, celebrated as the strongest superheroes and mentors to others across the country.
Lakas could fly at incredible speeds and lift immense weights, from a bus full of people to an entire seaport. His superhuman strength was legendary—he could hurl a supervillain across an entire city. With his abilities came fame and admiration; the people of Kagitingan adored him for his heroism.
"What's your name, son?" he asked Ethan, who was still processing the scene.
"Ethan, sir," Ethan replied, locking eyes with the superhero. "What's going on?"
Lakas smiled, glancing at the dismembered manananggal. "Did you know this is the seventh time I've seen you out here, doing," he looked down at the carnage beside them, then back at Ethan, "good work?"
"Interesting," Ethan muttered. "I didn't realize superheroes were into stalking."
Lakas chuckled, shaking his head. "I won't beat around the bush. I admire your ability to," he spat at Ethan, but the panhydrokinetic quickly suspended the saliva mid-air before redirecting it toward the remains of the aswang, "manipulate any kind of liquid."
Ethan stared at the superhero, intrigued.
"I'm here to invite you to join a private, prestigious competition for superhumans that Maharlika is organizing," Lakas explained. "With your unique hydrokinesis, you could easily win. What do you think?"
"I'm not sure, you know," Ethan said, tilting his head, hands on his hips. "And if I win, what's the grand prize?"
"An official seat in Maharlika."
Ethan raised an eyebrow.
Lakas chuckled softly. "I'm dead serious, son." He placed a reassuring hand on Ethan's tense shoulder. "Give it a shot; I can feel in my bones that you'll come out on top."
Ethan let out a deep sigh, bowing his head for a moment. He gazed at the sun emblem on Lakas's suit before meeting the superhero's steady gaze again. "Maybe you should find another contender for your little cockfight," he said, then turned and walked away.