Ben had landed in a dumpster full of old papers and rotting food. It had also, interestingly, acted as a kind of cushion for his fall. The impact, however, was still substantial enough to knock him unconscious.

      The pain he felt was extraordinary. The impact into the dumpster, along with wounds from his previous dealings with the Silver Assassin, had rendered his body immobile. All he could do was lay and try not to drift back into an unconscious state once more.

      "I...hate...San Diego," Ben muttered, faintly drifting towards consciousness.

      The air around him smelled stale, and the sky above was littered with clouds. As his senses cleared, the reality of the situation soon sank in. Ben had lost, and the Silver Assassin had made away with his only hope of seeing ever Diana again.

      Ben just lay in the dumpster, letting the odorous fumes waft around his battered body. Everything had abruptly shattered, and it was all because of the man in the breathing mask. The muffled, echoey, mechanical breathing resounded in Ben's thoughts and made him shudder. His body twitched when he heard a rustling noise to his left.

      He was too tired to call out. Ben continued to lay, hoping for the end to come soon. There was more shuffling, and he was convinced that it was the Silver Assassin.

      "Have you come to end it?" Ben croaked, even talking hurt.

      There was even more shuffling; footsteps outside of the dumpster. Ben swallowed as he braced himself to see the round, ominous black eyes of the mask for one last time.

      However, a small head instead poked up from the edge of the dumpster. Ben squinted in disbelief; it was a small child. As his eyes adjusted, he could clearly see that it was a girl with knotted brown hair. Her eyes, though, were darting around the dumpster with curiosity.

      "You're not the Silver Assassin, are you?" Ben asked, trying not to breathe too hard out of pain.

      The little girl shook her head, and for a moment she disappeared. Seconds later, two apples flew over the top and into the dumpster. They were a deep red, and one of them landed next to Ben's face. He tried to grab it, but any slight motion seemed to make his entire body blister in pain.

      "Hello?" Ben called, but to no response.

      He slowly moved his arm and was able to faintly touch the soft skin of the fruit. The little girl must have left, because he heard no more noises outside of the trash can. She reminded him of Hope, his own daughter.

      "Hope," Ben whispered, letting the name resonate in the air.

      His fatigue was too much, and he was not able to grip the fruit. It hurt just to lay there in the smoldering, smelly pit of the dumpster. The dumpster was his world; it was a representation of his life. For what felt like hours he continued to lie there, watching the clouds drift away in the sky and the blueness fade.

      It was almost night.

**

      The evening made things significantly cooler, and Ben couldn't stop shivering in his dumpster. The sounds of the city sounded so close to him, yet all he could do was listen. His throat was parched for water, and his stomach growled for some decent food. It was like some kind of a torture.

      The night wore on, and Ben slipped into a troubled sleep. He dreamed of Diana and Hope, but he also dreamed of Mr. Chase. Ben dreamed of the life he could've had, and the life that haunted him. He faded in and out of unconsciousness, getting confused on when he was really awake. The night lasted an eternity, but eventually the sky began to brighten with the forth-comings of dawn.

      It was in the early hours of the morning that he began to hear voices. They were dim at first, but then they grew in intensity. It sounded like an older man and his child: the girl.

      "Help," Ben whispered, but his voice was too dry to make out anything.

      He saw two heads poke out into his field of vision. One was of a grizzled-looking man with a beard and uncombed hair. The other was of the small girl he had seen just the day before. They stood on the outer rim of the dumpster as if they were inspecting him.

      "Dear God," the man whispered. "Samantha, why didn't you tell me of this earlier? The man looks like a corpse!"

      Ben weakly rolled his eyes, "Thanks."

      The pair painfully hoisted Ben out of his dumpster prison and dragged him out of the alley. There was an old car parked outside on the curb, and they loaded him in like a wounded soldier. Ben asked if he could go to a hospital, but the man replied that he couldn't afford it. Besides, he said, he had better care.

      They drove out of the city, but Ben didn't really care on where they were going. Every bump the car hit caused him excruciating pain. The constant bantering between the man and his daughter weren't helping either.

      "I gave him food!" the daughter, Samantha, said.

      The father appeared to shake his head, "Yes, but a man of his condition needs immediate care! You should've approached me about this yesterday."

      Ben licked his dry lips, "Water..."

      The man turned his head for a brief moment, "Is he talking? What's he asking for Sam?"

      "W-Water..." Ben repeated, in a barely audible whisper.

      "Water?" the man repeated. "Sam, get the man some water."

      The little girl shuffled around in the front seat, Ben was draped along the back, and came into his view with a plastic water bottle. She unscrewed the cap and tried to tilt it into his mouth, but a bump sent the precious liquid all over his face.

      "Oh, for God's sake," Ben moaned, clutching his bruised side.

      Finally, the car abruptly came to a halt and Ben bumped his head when the car braked. They were outside some kind of a shelter; it was an old apartment building. The door to the car opened, and he was painstakingly dragged out onto the sidewalk. Ben was brought inside and placed on a dusty old sofa. The father of the daughter began to bark orders to his child.

      "Get me some bandages, splints, and pain reliever," he ordered. "Get me some more water too, this man needs water."

      Ben was patched up as best as possible. His bruises were taken care of, his cuts were bandaged, and he was given some water. The blissful liquid seemed to pour life into Ben, and his moistened throat finally allowed him to speak.

      "Who are you?" was his first question.

      The man averted his gaze.

      "I asked you...a question," Ben wheezed.

      "My name...is Frederick Dodgers," the father explained, seemingly a little hesitant. "Samantha, whom you met earlier, is my daughter."

      He wrapped bandages around his arm as he talked. Ben asked more questions, wanting to know the identity of the man.

      "A-Are you a doctor?" grimaced Ben, closing his eyes to the pain. "Why are you helping me?"

      "Yes," Frederick replied, tying off a bandage. "Well, I was a doctor...but that was a long time ago. These days, I'm just kind of...whatever. I try my best to do the, uh, right thing," he looked at Ben. "You could call it atonement."

      "You don't have a job?" Ben replied, suddenly doubtful of the stranger saving his life.

      Frederick shook his head, still tying up the bandages, "Nope, I'm just a one-man show for right now."

      Ben nodded his head, as he relaxed, "I can relate."

      He looked around the old apartment, and could see that parts of it were literally rotting away. The furniture looked ancient, and the television had a spider-web crack in the upper corner of its screen. All over the place were cardboard boxes with papers spilling out of them.

      "Is this your place?" asked Ben.

      Frederick paused, as he looked around, "Yeah...and I know it looks like an abandoned crap-shack. It's just that I haven't had the money to keep this place...looking presentable."

      "It's alright," replied Ben. "My place was the same way."

      Frederick shook his head as he muttered sarcastically, "And they say this is the land of opportunity..."

      Ben chuckled, and he shook his head, "From day one, I was on the streets. I had a family once...but then that all disappeared."

      Frederick left his side and went to get some food. Out of the corner of his eye, Ben could see Samantha curiously staring at him from across the room. She looked so much like Hope that it scared him. He missed her so much right at that moment.

      "Bon-appetit," Frederick said, as he brought back a can of peaches with a spork in it.

      Ben nodded, as accepting the meal, "Thanks."

      "You didn't tell me your name," Frederick asked, passing a can to his daughter. "Who're you?"

      Ben swallowed his food, "Benedict Cain."

      "Strong name," Frederick replied, scooping a can of sweet fruit into his own mouth. "Now, get some rest for God's sake. I don't need people dying in this apartment...it's cursed enough as it is."

      Ben nodded his head as he finished the can. Then, he instantly fell asleep out of pure exhaustion.
**
      Far away, a man pulled off his gas-mask, setting a strange container before himself. Carefully, he unlatched the secure bondages and opened the container. The Stone of Ascension illuminated the surrounding space with its unearthly glow.

      The man smiled: his clients were going to be very pleased.