Frederick was a doctor, and he helped people; it was what he had done, and it was what he would always do. He didn't know Ben, and he didn't know about his past. Frederick didn't know about the Stone of Ascension, Ben's cooperation with the Black Dragon, or the amount of times he had scored positive on a breathalyzer. All he knew was that his kid had found a man in a dumpster, so he did what all doctors had to do.

     Ben wished that there were more people like him in the world, but the sad truth was that there weren't. As his wounds healed over the next couple of days, Ben began to talk more with Frederick. He told him small parts about his past, and in return Frederick told Ben some parts about his. But there was that sense of vagueness that always accompanies a conversation between two strangers. Neither of them wanted to give all the details.

     Frederick Dodgers had used to be a surgeon at one of the hospitals located in the heart of San Diego. He refused to name specifically, but all he said was that there had been an incident and his career was terminated. Frederick stated that there was some under the table stuff going on with funds for the hospital that he got caught up in.

     "Whatever happened, it wasn't my fault," Frederick tried to explain. "I just got blamed, and then my career went out the window. Tell me about you Cain, what's your story?"

     Ben averted the gaze of the man, "I'm from the streets of the New York, that should be self-explanatory in it of itself."

     Frederick nodded, sipping a beer, "I understand."

**

     Ben felt claustrophobic among all the boxes. They were piled high around him, pressing in from all sides. Inside, valuable papers and files spilled out of them.

     "I'm holding them for people," was all Frederick would say about the boxes. "It's a second-hand job I have. I transport files, and I make a buck off of it."

     Ben felt slightly uneasy in the apartment, but Frederick showed no hostilities toward him so he tried to relax. At night, as he lay on the couch recovering from his wounds, he would try to push the uncertainty out of his mind. He would, instead, turn his thoughts to his true enemy: the Silver Assassin.

     He was angered by how the Stone of Ascension had been taken from him. Ben wanted to track down the murderer, but he knew not where he was. He didn't even know if the Silver Assassin would still have the stone once he found him either. Everything was so messed up, and all Ben could do was chase fragmented flickers of hope about his future.

     Hope.

     His daughter, whom he might never see again. It pained him inside that the man in the mask had made off with the only hope of holding his daughter again. The event was almost like having his family painfully ripped from him once more, and it hurt a pain deeper than any physical wound.

**

     Days passed by, and Frederick was frequently on the move. He was always disappearing in the morning with the boxes, and then coming back late at night. Sometimes he would bring new boxes, which he would just added to the ever-growing pile in his living room. Ben would just lay there, eating cans of peaches with a spork. Soon, though, his wounds got to the point where he could actually get up and move around. It was encouraging, and it felt good to be on his feet again.

     Samantha would often sit in her chair and stare at him for hours. She looked young, maybe three or four. She was so young, and yet she was so unaware of the world around her. Ben would look at her and be continuously reminded of Hope. It was sometimes painful to even be in the same room with her.

**

     More time passed, and it was almost a week since Ben had first arrived in the house. There were no Black Dragon operatives coming for him, but he doubted they even knew where he was. The operatives he had been in contact with were all dead, so it seemed logical to reason that the Silver Assassin had not been working for the Black Dragon. The assassin did say, however, that he was working for someone to steal the stone. It was just a matter of who.

     Ben would stay up late into the night thinking about the problems. He had no idea what to do, or what to make of anything. His life experience on the streets gave him some confidence, but at the end of the day he was just a man. He was just one man against so many others.

     There would be times when Ben would think back home. He would think about his 1962 Chevrolet Corvette and how it was doing. Ben had won the car in a bet several years prior, and he loved it. He used to take Diana riding in it sometimes, and she would love the way the wind flowed through her hair. It was an exhilarating experience driving the car, and Ben wished that he was behind the wheel.

**
     One day, though, everything died.

     Ben opened his eyes and stared across the room. There was, at first, an obvious change in the arrange of the boxes around him. The light from a half-drawn curtain lazily drifted across the room and alighted itself upon a secluded box. It was hidden behind several others, but the most intriguing part was that a small file seemed to be exposed. A peculiar name was illuminated among the rest. One, single file seemed to have an odd name labeled in the corner tab.

     It read, from a distance, "Bellator".

     Ben pulled himself up from his couch, and he gingerly walked over to the boxes. He pulled out the manila folder, which was stuffed with papers, and opened it up. His shock almost made him drop it when he read: Black Dragon Project Bellator Experiments.

     The file was pertaining to the Black Dragon.

     There was a brief summary on the opening page. It depicted an effort to create genetically-enhanced soldiers through the use of gene-splicing techniques. The final result would have been a person with extraordinary gifts.

     That is, if they survived the experiment.

     According to the file, what was contained was a list of subjects for the experiment. Their status after the experiment was also listed in the file. There were hundreds of names, all from different people who had been given the dosages. Everything was listed in alphabetical order.

     When he saw the name, all the blood drained from his face. Time slowed down, and the muscles in his hands abruptly slackened. He blinked, and there was silence in the room. All of the pain from his wounds became nonexistent as his soul screamed an unearthly howl. It was the howl of a wounded man.

     "Cain, Diana" was printed within the file. Next to her name: "Terminated".

     They had lied. His family had been taken from him for...experiments. They were dead.

     They were dead. 

     Ben scrolled down the list, praying that his worst fears wouldn't be realized. When he saw Hope's name he dropped the file. He couldn't bear to look anymore. It felt like a harpoon had been struck through his heart, and Ben's scream of fury tore through the house. He heard Frederick run into the room, and he saw the files.

     "Benedict," he said, "let's calm down here for a moment."

     Ben turned on the man who had nursed him back from near-death, "Calm? You fucking knew!"

     He grabbed Frederick's neck, hoisting him in the air. Frederick kicked and gasped for air, but all Ben did was squeeze harder.

     "You were with them, weren't you?" Ben hissed, through gritted teeth. "You knew all along! How they lied to me! My family is dead!"

     He threw Frederick against the wall. Tears swam down Ben's face as the anger inside of him grew in ferocity. As he slammed Frederick's face into the wall, the man tried to explain that he never looked at the files, and that all he did was transport them.

     "Liar!" Ben shouted, punching Frederick again.

     The anger flowed through him, and it tightened his focus. He fixed it on a focal point and channeled it.

     "I hate you!" Ben cried, while tears continued down his face and as he slammed his fist into Frederick's head.

     Frederick's body fell to the ground, more than likely barely conscious. Ben stood over him like a monster, blood dripping from his knuckles. He had the power to end it; the power to wreak vengeance on him. Then he would take it to the Shadow himself. Ben knelt down and grabbed a fistful of hair. He pulled Frederick's head up and stared into the vacant eyes.

     He was going to do it...but then he stopped. Far off, in the corner, was Samantha. She was curled up, and trembling at the sight of Ben.

     But Ben didn't see Samantha, he saw Hope.

     Ben stood motionless for a second as the realization sunk in, and then he dropped Frederick's bloody head. He stormed out of the apartment and into the streets, not knowing where he was going. Nothing made sense anymore, so all he did was wander. Ben wandered through the city and to the bay. He wandered away from the bay and to the outskirts of the city. People would stare, but he did not notice them.

      All he could see were ghosts.

     Diana, Hope, Frederick, Samantha, or even Mr. Chase. All they were to him were ghosts, and they mocked him from the corners of his mind. They mocked him for believing that there was hope, and that there was a chance. They mocked him for playing into the palm of the Black Dragon, and they mocked him for living a fantasy. He had been played.

     The player had been played.

**

     Far away, a lone soldier stood before his master. They had just received word on the one they had hired to take the Stone of Ascension, and according to the reports all operatives in the San Diego District were dead. Only one conclusion could be drawn: that Benedict Cain had turned on his benefactors and slaughtered them. The soldier trembled as he relayed the information, but his master remained silent for a moment.

     The Shadow, leader of the Black Dragon, sat in a throne-like chair, contemplating the failure of the project. He cleared his throat, frustration brewing in his heart.

     "Evidently, we were wrong to think that Mr. Cain could be trusted," the Shadow remarked. "I mourn the passing of my loyal disciples, but in this hour of desperation there is hope for vengeance."

     "How so, sir?" the soldier asked.

     The Shadow slowly pushed himself up from his throne, and he took just a few steps toward the shaking soldier. He towered over the man, and his eyes bore through the trembling figure.

     "He is but a renegade now," the Shadow stated. "He will be treated as such. Hunt him down, and kill him."

     "Yes, my lord," the soldier stated.

     "The trials have been completed," the Shadow proclaimed. "Send some of our newly-enhanced to extinguish the renegade's life."

     The soldier nodded.

     "He killed my disciples," the Shadow whispered. "Now his debt will be fulfilled."

     The soldier left the chamber, eager to deliver his new orders.